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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24968-8.txt b/24968-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1badf7a --- /dev/null +++ b/24968-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6707 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Behind the Scenes, by Elizabeth Keckley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Behind the Scenes + or, Thirty years a slave, and Four Years in the White House + +Author: Elizabeth Keckley + +Release Date: March 31, 2008 [EBook #24968] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +ELIZABETH +KECKLEY + +Behind the Scenes, + +Or, +Thirty Years a Slave, +and Four Years in the White House + + + * * * * * + + +Contents + +BEHIND THE SCENES + +Preface 3 +Chapter I. Where I was born 7 +Chapter II. Girlhood and its Sorrows 13 +Chapter III. How I gained my Freedom 19 +Chapter IV. In the Family of Senator Jefferson Davis 28 +Chapter V. My Introduction to Mrs. Lincoln 34 +Chapter VI. Willie Lincoln's Death-bed 41 +Chapter VII. Washington in 1862-3 50 +Chapter VIII. Candid Opinions 57 +Chapter IX. Behind the Scenes 62 +Chapter X. The Second Inauguration 68 +Chapter XI. The Assassination of President Lincoln 77 +Chapter XII. Mrs. Lincoln leaves the White House 89 +Chapter XIII. The Origin of the Rivalry between + Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincol 101 +Chapter XIV. Old Friends 106 +Chapter XV. The Secret History of Mrs. Lincoln's + Wardrobe in New York 119 +Appendix--Letters from Mrs. Lincoln to Mrs. Keckley 147 + + + * * * * * + + +BEHIND THE SCENES. + +BY + +ELIZABETH KECKLEY, + +FORMERLY A SLAVE, BUT MORE RECENTLY MODISTE, +AND FRIEND TO MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. + +OR, + +THIRTY YEARS A SLAVE, AND FOUR YEARS IN +THE WHITE HOUSE. + + +NEW YORK: +G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers. +M DCCC LXVIII. + + + * * * * * + + +PREFACE + + +I have often been asked to write my life, as those who know me know that +it has been an eventful one. At last I have acceded to the importunities +of my friends, and have hastily sketched some of the striking incidents +that go to make up my history. My life, so full of romance, may sound +like a dream to the matter-of-fact reader, nevertheless everything I +have written is strictly true; much has been omitted, but nothing has +been exaggerated. In writing as I have done, I am well aware that I have +invited criticism; but before the critic judges harshly, let my +explanation be carefully read and weighed. If I have portrayed the dark +side of slavery, I also have painted the bright side. The good that I +have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the +evil that I have said of it. I have kind, true-hearted friends in the +South as well as in the North, and I would not wound those Southern +friends by sweeping condemnation, simply because I was once a slave. +They were not so much responsible for the curse under which I was born, +as the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the +United States. The law descended to them, and it was but natural that +they should recognize it, since it manifestly was their interest to do +so. And yet a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of +my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have +been human had I not rebelled against the robbery. God rules the +Universe. I was a feeble instrument in His hands, and through me and the +enslaved millions of my race, one of the problems was solved that +belongs to the great problem of human destiny; and the solution was +developed so gradually that there was no great convulsion of the +harmonies of natural laws. A solemn truth was thrown to the surface, and +what is better still, it was recognized as a truth by those who give +force to moral laws. An act may be wrong, but unless the ruling power +recognizes the wrong, it is useless to hope for a correction of it. +Principles may be right, but they are not established within an hour. +The masses are slow to reason, and each principle, to acquire moral +force, must come to us from the fire of the crucible; the fire may +inflict unjust punishment, but then it purifies and renders stronger the +principle, not in itself, but in the eyes of those who arrogate judgment +to themselves. When the war of the Revolution established the +independence of the American colonies, an evil was perpetuated, slavery +was more firmly established; and since the evil had been planted, it +must pass through certain stages before it could be eradicated. In fact, +we give but little thought to the plant of evil until it grows to such +monstrous proportions that it overshadows important interests; then the +efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of the victims of slavery I +drank of the bitter water; but then, since destiny willed it so, and +since I aided in bringing a solemn truth to the surface _as a truth_, +perhaps I have no right to complain. Here, as in all things pertaining +to life, I can afford to be charitable. + +It may be charged that I have written too freely on some questions, +especially in regard to Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think so; at least I have +been prompted by the purest motive. Mrs. Lincoln, by her own acts, +forced herself into notoriety. She stepped beyond the formal lines which +hedge about a private life, and invited public criticism. The people +have judged her harshly, and no woman was ever more traduced in the +public prints of the country. The people knew nothing of the secret +history of her transactions, therefore they judged her by what was +thrown to the surface. For an act may be wrong judged purely by itself, +but when the motive that prompted the act is understood, it is construed +differently. I lay it down as an axiom, that only that is criminal in +the sight of God where crime is meditated. Mrs. Lincoln may have been +imprudent, but since her intentions were good, she should be judged more +kindly than she has been. But the world do not know what her intentions +were; they have only been made acquainted with her acts without knowing +what feeling guided her actions. If the world are to judge her as I have +judged her, they must be introduced to the secret history of her +transactions. The veil of mystery must be drawn aside; the origin of a +fact must be brought to light with the naked fact itself. If I have +betrayed confidence in anything I have published, it has been to place +Mrs. Lincoln in a better light before the world. A breach of trust--if +breach it can be called--of this kind is always excusable. My own +character, as well as the character of Mrs. Lincoln, is at stake, since +I have been intimately associated with that lady in the most eventful +periods of her life. I have been her confidante, and if evil charges are +laid at her door, they also must be laid at mine, since I have been a +party to all her movements. To defend myself I must defend the lady that +I have served. The world have judged Mrs. Lincoln by the facts which +float upon the surface, and through her have partially judged me, and +the only way to convince them that wrong was not meditated is to explain +the motives that actuated us. I have written nothing that can place Mrs. +Lincoln in a worse light before the world than the light in which she +now stands, therefore the secret history that I publish can do her no +harm. I have excluded everything of a personal character from her +letters; the extracts introduced only refer to public men, and are such +as to throw light upon her unfortunate adventure in New York. These +letters were not written for publication, for which reason they are all +the more valuable; they are the frank overflowings of the heart, the +outcropping of impulse, the key to genuine motives. They prove the +motive to have been pure, and if they shall help to stifle the voice of +calumny, I am content. I do not forget, before the public journals +vilified Mrs. Lincoln, that ladies who moved in the Washington circle in +which she moved, freely canvassed her character among themselves. They +gloated over many a tale of scandal that grew out of gossip in their own +circle. If these ladies, could say everything bad of the wife of the +President, why should I not be permitted to lay her secret history bare, +especially when that history plainly shows that her life, like all +lives, has its good side as well as its bad side! None of us are +perfect, for which reason we should heed the voice of charity when it +whispers in our ears, "Do not magnify the imperfections of others." Had +Mrs. Lincoln's acts never become public property, I should not have +published to the world the secret chapters of her life. I am not the +special champion of the widow of our lamented President; the reader of +the pages which follow will discover that I have written with the utmost +frankness in regard to her--have exposed her faults as well as given her +credit for honest motives. I wish the world to judge her as she is, free +from the exaggerations of praise or scandal, since I have been +associated with her in so many things that have provoked hostile +criticism; and the judgment that the world may pass upon her, I flatter +myself, will present my own actions in a better light. + + ELIZABETH KECKLEY. + 14 Carroll Place, New York, + March 14, 1868. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHERE I WAS BORN + + +My life has been an eventful one. I was born a slave--was the child of +slave parents--therefore I came upon the earth free in God-like thought, +but fettered in action. My birthplace was Dinwiddie Court-House, in +Virginia. My recollections of childhood are distinct, perhaps for the +reason that many stirring incidents are associated with that period. I +am now on the shady side of forty, and as I sit alone in my room the +brain is busy, and a rapidly moving panorama brings scene after scene +before me, some pleasant and others sad; and when I thus greet old +familiar faces, I often find myself wondering if I am not living the +past over again. The visions are so terribly distinct that I almost +imagine them to be real. Hour after hour I sit while the scenes are +being shifted; and as I gaze upon the panorama of the past, I realize +how crowded with incidents my life has been. Every day seems like a +romance within itself, and the years grow into ponderous volumes. As I +cannot condense, I must omit many strange passages in my history. From +such a wilderness of events it is difficult to make a selection, but as +I am not writing altogether the history of myself, I will confine my +story to the most important incidents which I believe influenced the +moulding of my character. As I glance over the crowded sea of the past, +these incidents stand forth prominently, the guide-posts of memory. I +presume that I must have been four years old when I first began to +remember; at least, I cannot now recall anything occurring previous to +this period. My master, Col. A. Burwell, was somewhat unsettled in his +business affairs, and while I was yet an infant he made several +removals. While living at Hampton Sidney College, Prince Edward County, +Va., Mrs. Burwell gave birth to a daughter, a sweet, black-eyed baby, +my earliest and fondest pet. To take care of this baby was my first +duty. True, I was but a child myself--only four years old--but then I +had been raised in a hardy school--had been taught to rely upon myself, +and to prepare myself to render assistance to others. The lesson was not +a bitter one, for I was too young to indulge in philosophy, and the +precepts that I then treasured and practised I believe developed those +principles of character which have enabled me to triumph over so many +difficulties. Notwithstanding all the wrongs that slavery heaped upon +me, I can bless it for one thing--youth's important lesson of +self-reliance. The baby was named Elizabeth, and it was pleasant to me +to be assigned a duty in connection with it, for the discharge of that +duty transferred me from the rude cabin to the household of my master. +My simple attire was a short dress and a little white apron. My old +mistress encouraged me in rocking the cradle, by telling me that if I +would watch over the baby well, keep the flies out of its face, and not +let it cry, I should be its little maid. This was a golden promise, and +I required no better inducement for the faithful performance of my task. +I began to rock the cradle most industriously, when lo! out pitched +little pet on the floor. I instantly cried out, "Oh! the baby is on the +floor;" and, not knowing what to do, I seized the fire-shovel in my +perplexity, and was trying to shovel up my tender charge, when my +mistress called to me to let the child alone, and then ordered that I be +taken out and lashed for my carelessness. The blows were not +administered with a light hand, I assure you, and doubtless the severity +of the lashing has made me remember the incident so well. This was the +first time I was punished in this cruel way, but not the last. The +black-eyed baby that I called my pet grew into a self-willed girl, and +in after years was the cause of much trouble to me. I grew strong and +healthy, and, notwithstanding I knit socks and attended to various kinds +of work, I was repeatedly told, when even fourteen years old, that I +would never be worth my salt. When I was eight, Mr. Burwell's family +consisted of six sons and four daughters, with a large family of +servants. My mother was kind and forbearing; Mrs. Burwell a hard +task-master; and as mother had so much work to do in making clothes, +etc., for the family, besides the slaves, I determined to render her all +the assistance in my power, and in rendering her such assistance my +young energies were taxed to the utmost. I was my mother's only child, +which made her love for me all the stronger. I did not know much of my +father, for he was the slave of another man, and when Mr. Burwell moved +from Dinwiddie he was separated from us, and only allowed to visit my +mother twice a year--during the Easter holidays and Christmas. At last +Mr. Burwell determined to reward my mother, by making an arrangement +with the owner of my father, by which the separation of my parents could +be brought to an end. It was a bright day, indeed, for my mother when it +was announced that my father was coming to live with us. The old weary +look faded from her face, and she worked as if her heart was in every +task. But the golden days did not last long. The radiant dream faded all +too soon. + +In the morning my father called me to him and kissed me, then held me +out at arms' length as if he were regarding his child with pride. "She +is growing into a large fine girl," he remarked to my mother. "I dun no +which I like best, you or Lizzie, as both are so dear to me." My +mother's name was Agnes, and my father delighted to call me his "Little +Lizzie." While yet my father and mother were speaking hopefully, +joyfully of the future, Mr. Burwell came to the cabin, with a letter in +his hand. He was a kind master in some things, and as gently as possible +informed my parents that they must part; for in two hours my father must +join his master at Dinwiddie, and go with him to the West, where he had +determined to make his future home. The announcement fell upon the +little circle in that rude-log cabin like a thunderbolt. I can remember +the scene as if it were but yesterday;--how my father cried out against +the cruel separation; his last kiss; his wild straining of my mother to +his bosom; the solemn prayer to Heaven; the tears and sobs--the fearful +anguish of broken hearts. The last kiss, the last good-by; and he, my +father, was gone, gone forever. The shadow eclipsed the sunshine, and +love brought despair. The parting was eternal. The cloud had no silver +lining, but I trust that it will be all silver in heaven. We who are +crushed to earth with heavy chains, who travel a weary, rugged, thorny +road, groping through midnight darkness on earth, earn our right to +enjoy the sunshine in the great hereafter. At the grave, at least, we +should be permitted to lay our burdens down, that a new world, a world +of brightness, may open to us. The light that is denied us here should +grow into a flood of effulgence beyond the dark, mysterious shadows of +death. Deep as was the distress of my mother in parting with my father, +her sorrow did not screen her from insult. My old mistress said to her: +"Stop your nonsense; there is no necessity for you putting on airs. Your +husband is not the only slave that has been sold from his family, and +you are not the only one that has had to part. There are plenty more men +about here, and if you want a husband so badly, stop your crying and go +and find another." To these unfeeling words my mother made no reply. She +turned away in stoical silence, with a curl of that loathing scorn upon +her lips which swelled in her heart. + +My father and mother never met again in this world. They kept up a +regular correspondence for years, and the most precious mementoes of my +existence are the faded old letters that he wrote, full of love, and +always hoping that the future would bring brighter days. In nearly every +letter is a message for me. "Tell my darling little Lizzie," he writes, +"to be a good girl, and to learn her book. Kiss her for me, and tell her +that I will come to see her some day." Thus he wrote time and again, but +he never came. He lived in hope, but died without ever seeing his wife +and child. + +I note a few extracts from one of my father's letters to my mother, +following copy literally: + + "SHELBYVILE, Sept. 6, 1833. + + "MRS. AGNES HOBBS + + "Dear Wife: My dear biloved wife I am more than glad to meet + with opportun[i]ty writee thes few lines to you by my + Mistress who ar now about starterng to virginia, and sevl + others of my old friends are with her; in compeney Mrs. Ann + Rus the wife of master Thos Rus and Dan Woodiard and his + family and I am very sorry that I havn the chance to go with + them as I feele Determid to see you If life last again. I am + now here and out at this pleace so I am not abble to get of + at this time. I am write well and hearty and all the rest of + masters family. I heard this eveng by Mistress that ar just + from theree all sends love to you and all my old frends. I am + a living in a town called Shelbyville and I have wrote a + greate many letters since Ive beene here and almost been + reeady to my selfe that its out of the question to write any + more at tall: my dear wife I dont feeld no whys like giving + out writing to you as yet and I hope when you get this letter + that you be Inncougege to write me a letter. I am well + satisfied at my living at this place I am a making money for + my own benifit and I hope that its to yours also If I live to + see Nexct year I shall heve my own time from master by giving + him 100 and twenty Dollars a year and I thinke I shall be + doing good bisness at that and heve something more thean all + that. I hope with gods helpe that I may be abble to rejoys + with you on the earth and In heaven lets meet when will I am + detemnid to nuver stope praying, not in this earth and I hope + to praise god In glory there weel meet to part no more + forever. So my dear wife I hope to meet you In paradase to + prase god forever * * * * * I want Elizabeth to be a good + girl and not to thinke that becasue I am bound so fare that + gods not abble to open the way * * * * + + "GEORGE PLEASANT, + "_Hobbs a servant of Grum_." + +The last letter that my mother received from my father was dated +Shelbyville, Tennessee, March 20, 1839. He writes in a cheerful strain, +and hopes to see her soon. Alas! he looked forward to a meeting in vain. +Year after year the one great hope swelled in his heart, but the hope +was only realized beyond the dark portals of the grave. + +When I was about seven years old I witnessed, for the first time, the +sale of a human being. We were living at Prince Edward, in Virginia, and +master had just purchased his hogs for the winter, for which he was +unable to pay in full. To escape from his embarrassment it was necessary +to sell one of the slaves. Little Joe, the son of the cook, was selected +as the victim. His mother was ordered to dress him up in his Sunday +clothes, and send him to the house. He came in with a bright face, was +placed in the scales, and was sold, like the hogs, at so much per pound. +His mother was kept in ignorance of the transaction, but her suspicions +were aroused. When her son started for Petersburgh in the wagon, the +truth began to dawn upon her mind, and she pleaded piteously that her +boy should not be taken from her; but master quieted her by telling her +that he was simply going to town with the wagon, and would be back in +the morning. Morning came, but little Joe did not return to his mother. +Morning after morning passed, and the mother went down to the grave +without ever seeing her child again. One day she was whipped for +grieving for her lost boy. Colonel Burwell never liked to see one of his +slaves wear a sorrowful face, and those who offended in this particular +way were always punished. Alas! the sunny face of the slave is not +always an indication of sunshine in the heart. Colonel Burwell at one +time owned about seventy slaves, all of which were sold, and in a +majority of instances wives were separated from husbands and children +from their parents. Slavery in the Border States forty years ago was +different from what it was twenty years ago. Time seemed to soften the +hearts of master and mistress, and to insure kinder and more humane +treatment to bondsmen and bondswomen. When I was quite a child, an +incident occurred which my mother afterward impressed more strongly on +my mind. One of my uncles, a slave of Colonel Burwell, lost a pair of +ploughlines, and when the loss was made known the master gave him a new +pair, and told him that if he did not take care of them he would punish +him severely. In a few weeks the second pair of lines was stolen, and my +uncle hung himself rather than meet the displeasure of his master. My +mother went to the spring in the morning for a pail of water, and on +looking up into the willow tree which shaded the bubbling crystal +stream, she discovered the lifeless form of her brother suspended +beneath one of the strong branches. Rather than be punished the way +Colonel Burwell punished his servants, he took his own life. Slavery had +its dark side as well as its bright side. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GIRLHOOD AND ITS SORROWS + + +I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I +was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son, +a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with +a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life. +She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with +contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their +only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me, +so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the +benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three +servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years +passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew +into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed +from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell +took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to +practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the +village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he +was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress +seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and +Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually +kind to me; he was naturally a good-hearted man, but was influenced by +his wife. It was Saturday evening, and while I was bending over the bed, +watching the baby that I had just hushed into slumber, Mr. Bingham came +to the door and asked me to go with him to his study. Wondering what he +meant by his strange request, I followed him, and when we had entered +the study he closed the door, and in his blunt way remarked: "Lizzie, I +am going to flog you." I was thunderstruck, and tried to think if I had +been remiss in anything. I could not recollect of doing anything to +deserve punishment, and with surprise exclaimed: "Whip me, Mr. Bingham! +what for?" + +"No matter," he replied, "I am going to whip you, so take down your +dress this instant." + +Recollect, I was eighteen years of age, was a woman fully developed, and +yet this man coolly bade me take down my dress. I drew myself up +proudly, firmly, and said: "No, Mr. Bingham, I shall not take down my +dress before you. Moreover, you shall not whip me unless you prove the +stronger. Nobody has a right to whip me but my own master, and nobody +shall do so if I can prevent it." + +My words seemed to exasperate him. He seized a rope, caught me roughly, +and tried to tie me. I resisted with all my strength, but he was the +stronger of the two, and after a hard struggle succeeded in binding my +hands and tearing my dress from my back. Then he picked up a rawhide, +and began to ply it freely over my shoulders. With steady hand and +practised eye he would raise the instrument of torture, nerve himself +for a blow, and with fearful force the rawhide descended upon the +quivering flesh. It cut the skin, raised great welts, and the warm blood +trickled down my back. Oh God! I can feel the torture now--the terrible, +excruciating agony of those moments. I did not scream; I was too proud +to let my tormentor know what I was suffering. I closed my lips firmly, +that not even a groan might escape from them, and I stood like a statue +while the keen lash cut deep into my flesh. As soon as I was released, +stunned with pain, bruised and bleeding, I went home and rushed into the +presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Robert, +why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be +so punished?" + +"Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me." + +I would not be put off thus. "What _have_ I done? I _will_ know why I +have been flogged." + +I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his +feet, and on my refusing to go without an explanation, seized a chair, +struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead +with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I +could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I +was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled +against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I +tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to +me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more calm, and I believe +that I could then have forgiven everything for the sake of one kind +word. But the kind word was not proffered, and it may be possible that I +grew somewhat wayward and sullen. Though I had faults, I know now, as I +felt then, harshness was the poorest inducement for the correction of +them. It seems that Mr. Bingham had pledged himself to Mrs. Burwell to +subdue what he called my "stubborn pride." On Friday following the +Saturday on which I was so savagely beaten, Mr. Bingham again directed +me come to his study. I went, but with the determination to offer +resistance should he attempt to flog me again. On entering the room I +found him prepared with a new rope and a new cowhide. I told him that I +was ready to die, but that he could not conquer me. In struggling with +him I bit his finger severely, when he seized a heavy stick and beat me +with it in a shameful manner. Again I went home sore and bleeding, but +with pride as strong and defiant as ever. The following Thursday Mr. +Bingham again tried to conquer me, but in vain. We struggled, and he +struck me many savage blows. As I stood bleeding before him, nearly +exhausted with his efforts, he burst into tears, and declared that it +would be a sin to beat me any more. My suffering at last subdued his +hard heart; he asked my forgiveness, and afterwards was an altered man. +He was never known to strike one of his servants from that day forward. +Mr. Burwell, he who preached the love of Heaven, who glorified the +precepts and examples of Christ, who expounded the Holy Scriptures +Sabbath after Sabbath from the pulpit, when Mr. Bingham refused to whip +me any more, was urged by his wife to punish me himself. One morning he +went to the wood-pile, took an oak broom, cut the handle off, and with +this heavy handle attempted to conquer me. I fought him, but he proved +the strongest. At the sight of my bleeding form, his wife fell upon her +knees and begged him to desist. My distress even touched her cold, +jealous heart. I was so badly bruised that I was unable to leave my bed +for five days. I will not dwell upon the bitter anguish of these hours, +for even the thought of them now makes me shudder. The Rev. Mr. Burwell +was not yet satisfied. He resolved to make another attempt to subdue my +proud, rebellious spirit--made the attempt and again failed, when he +told me, with an air of penitence, that he should never strike me +another blow; and faithfully he kept his word. These revolting scenes +created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and +neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had +conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit +upon them. + +The savage efforts to subdue my pride were not the only things that +brought me suffering and deep mortification during my residence at +Hillsboro'. I was regarded as fair-looking for one of my race, and for +four years a white man--I spare the world his name--had base designs +upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is +fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four +years, and I--I--became a mother. The child of which he was the father +was the only child that I ever brought into the world. If my poor boy +ever suffered any humiliating pangs on account of birth, he could not +blame his mother, for God knows that she did not wish to give him life; +he must blame the edicts of that society which deemed it no crime to +undermine the virtue of girls in my then position. + +Among the old letters preserved by my mother I find the following, +written by myself while at Hillsboro'. In this connection I desire to +state that Rev. Robert Burwell is now living[A] at Charlotte, North +Carolina:-- + + "HILLSBORO', April 10, 1838. + + "MY DEAR MOTHER:--I have been intending to write to you for a + long time, but numerous things have prevented, and for that + reason you must excuse me. + + "I thought very hard of you for not writing to me, but hope + that you will answer this letter as soon as you receive it, + and tell me how you like Marsfield, and if you have seen any + of old acquaintances, or if you yet know any of the + brick-house people who I think so much of. I want to hear of + the family at home very much, indeed. I really believe you + and all the family have forgotten me, if not I certainly + should have heard from some of you since you left Boyton, if + it was only a line; nevertheless I love you all very dearly, + and shall, although I may never see you again, nor do I ever + expect to. Miss Anna is going to Petersburgh next winter, but + she says that she does not intend take me; what reason she + has for leaving me I cannot tell. I have often wished that I + lived where I knew I never could see you, for then I would + not have my hopes raised, and to be disappointed in this + manner; however, it is said that a bad beginning makes a good + ending, but I hardly expect to see that happy day at this + place. Give my love to all the family, both white and black. + I was very much obliged to you for the presents you sent me + last summer, though it is quite late in the day to be + thanking for them. Tell Aunt Bella that I was very much + obliged to her for her present; I have been so particular + with it that I have only worn it once. + + "There have been six weddings since October; the most + respectable one was about a fortnight ago; I was asked to be + the first attendant, but, as usual with all my expectations, + I was disappointed, for on the wedding-day I felt more like + being locked up in a three-cornered box than attending a + wedding. About a week before Christmas I was bridesmaid for + Ann Nash; when the night came I was in quite a trouble; I did + not know whether my frock was clean or dirty; I only had a + week's notice, and the body and sleeves to make, and only one + hour every night to work on it, so you can see with these + troubles to overcome my chance was rather slim. I must now + close, although I could fill ten pages with my griefs and + misfortunes; no tongue could express them as I feel; don't + forget me though; and answer my letters soon. I will write + you again, and would write more now, but Miss Anna says it is + time I had finished. Tell Miss Elizabeth that I wish she + would make haste and get married, for mistress says that I + belong to her when she gets married. + + "I wish you would send me a pretty frock this summer; if you + will send it to Mrs. Robertson's Miss Bet will send it to me. + + "Farewell, darling mother. + + "Your affectionate daughter, + "ELIZABETH HOBBS." + +[Footnote A: March, 1868.] + + + + +CHAPTER III + +HOW I GAINED MY FREEDOM + + +The years passed and brought many changes to me, but on these I will not +dwell, as I wish to hasten to the most interesting part of my story. My +troubles in North Carolina were brought to an end by my unexpected +return to Virginia, where I lived with Mr. Garland, who had married Miss +Ann[e] Burwell, one of my old master's daughters. His life was not a +prosperous one, and after struggling with the world for several years he +left his native State, a disappointed man. He moved to St. Louis, hoping +to improve his fortune in the West; but ill luck followed him there, and +he seemed to be unable to escape from the influence of the evil star of +his destiny. When his family, myself included, joined him in his new +home on the banks of the Mississippi, we found him so poor that he was +unable to pay the dues on a letter advertised as in the post-office for +him. The necessities of the family were so great, that it was proposed +to place my mother out at service. The idea was shocking to me. Every +gray hair in her old head was dear to me, and I could not bear the +thought of her going to work for strangers. She had been raised in the +family, had watched the growth of each child from infancy to maturity; +they had been the objects of her kindest care, and she was wound round +about them as the vine winds itself about the rugged oak. They had been +the central figures in her dream of life--a dream beautiful to her, +since she had basked in the sunshine of no other. And now they proposed +to destroy each tendril of affection, to cloud the sunshine of her +existence when the day was drawing to a close, when the shadows of +solemn night were rapidly approaching. My mother, my poor aged mother, +go among strangers to toil for a living! No, a thousand times no! I +would rather work my fingers to the bone, bend over my sewing till the +film of blindness gathered in my eyes; nay, even beg from street to +street. I told Mr. Garland so, and he gave me permission to see what I +could do. I was fortunate in obtaining work, and in a short time I had +acquired something of a reputation as a seamstress and dress-maker. The +best ladies in St. Louis were my patrons, and when my reputation was +once established I never lacked for orders. With my needle I kept bread +in the mouths of seventeen persons for two years and five months. While +I was working so hard that others might live in comparative comfort, and +move in those circles of society to which their birth gave them +entrance, the thought often occurred to me whether I was really worth my +salt or not; and then perhaps the lips curled with a bitter sneer. It +may seem strange that I should place so much emphasis upon words +thoughtlessly, idly spoken; but then we do many strange things in life, +and cannot always explain the motives that actuate us. The heavy task +was too much for me, and my health began to give way. About this time +Mr. Keckley, whom I had met in Virginia, and learned to regard with more +than friendship, came to St. Louis. He sought my hand in marriage, and +for a long time I refused to consider his proposal; for I could not bear +the thought of bringing children into slavery--of adding one single +recruit to the millions bound to hopeless servitude, fettered and +shackled with chains stronger and heavier than manacles of iron. I made +a proposition to buy myself and son; the proposition was bluntly +declined, and I was commanded never to broach the subject again. I would +not be put off thus, for hope pointed to a freer, brighter life in the +future. Why should my son be held in slavery? I often asked myself. He +came into the world through no will of mine, and yet, God only knows how +I loved him. The Anglo-Saxon blood as well as the African flowed in his +veins; the two currents commingled--one singing of freedom, the other +silent and sullen with generations of despair. Why should not the +Anglo-Saxon triumph--why should it be weighed down with the rich blood +typical of the tropics? Must the life-current of one race bind the other +race in chains as strong and enduring as if there had been no +Anglo-Saxon taint? By the laws of God and nature, as interpreted by +man, one-half of my boy was free, and why should not this fair +birthright of freedom remove the curse from the other half--raise it +into the bright, joyous sunshine of liberty? I could not answer these +questions of my heart that almost maddened me, and I learned to regard +human philosophy with distrust. Much as I respected the authority of my +master, I could not remain silent on a subject that so nearly concerned +me. One day, when I insisted on knowing whether he would permit me to +purchase myself, and what price I must pay for myself, he turned to me +in a petulant manner, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a +bright silver quarter of a dollar, and proffering it to me, said: + +"Lizzie, I have told you often not to trouble me with such a question. +If you really wish to leave me, take this: it will pay the passage of +yourself and boy on the ferry-boat, and when you are on the other side +of the river you will be free. It is the cheapest way that I know of to +accomplish what you desire." + +I looked at him in astonishment, and earnestly replied: "No, master, I +do not wish to be free in such a manner. If such had been my wish, I +should never have troubled you about obtaining your consent to my +purchasing myself. I can cross the river any day, as you well know, and +have frequently done so, but will never leave you in such a manner. By +the laws of the land I am your slave--you are my master, and I will only +be free by such means as the laws of the country provide." He expected +this answer, and I knew that he was pleased. Some time afterwards he +told me that he had reconsidered the question; that I had served his +family faithfully; that I deserved my freedom, and that he would take +$1200 for myself and boy. + +This was joyful intelligence for me, and the reflection of hope gave a +silver lining to the dark cloud of my life--faint, it is true, but still +a silver lining. + +Taking a prospective glance at liberty, I consented to marry. The +wedding was a great event in the family. The ceremony took place in the +parlor, in the presence of the family and a number of guests. Mr. +Garland gave me away, and the pastor, Bishop Hawks, performed the +ceremony, who had solemnized the bridals of Mr. G.'s own children. The +day was a happy one, but it faded all too soon. Mr. Keckley--let me +speak kindly of his faults--proved dissipated, and a burden instead of a +help-mate. More than all, I learned that he was a slave instead of a +free man, as he represented himself to be. With the simple explanation +that I lived with him eight years, let charity draw around him the +mantle of silence. + +I went to work in earnest to purchase my freedom, but the years passed, +and I was still a slave. Mr. Garland's family claimed so much of my +attention--in fact, I supported them--that I was not able to accumulate +anything. In the mean time Mr. Garland died, and Mr. Burwell, a +Mississippi planter, came to St. Louis to settle up the estate. He was a +kind-hearted man, and said I should be free, and would afford me every +facility to raise the necessary amount to pay the price of my liberty. +Several schemes were urged upon me by my friends. At last I formed a +resolution to go to New York, state my case, and appeal to the +benevolence of the people. The plan seemed feasible, and I made +preparations to carry it out. When I was almost ready to turn my face +northward, Mrs. Garland told me that she would require the names of six +gentlemen who would vouch for my return, and become responsible for the +amount at which I was valued. I had many friends in St. Louis, and as I +believed that they had confidence in me, I felt that I could readily +obtain the names desired. I started out, stated my case, and obtained +five signatures to the paper, and my heart throbbed with pleasure, for I +did not believe that the sixth would refuse me. I called, he listened +patiently, then remarked: + +"Yes, yes, Lizzie; the scheme is a fair one, and you shall have my name. +But I shall bid you good-by when you start." + +"Good-by for a short time," I ventured to add. + +"No, good-by for all time," and he looked at me as if he would read my +very soul with his eyes. + +I was startled. "What do you mean, Mr. Farrow? Surely you do not think +that I do not mean to come back?" + +"No." + +"No, what then?" + +"Simply this: you _mean_ to come back, that is, you _mean_ so _now_, but +you never will. When you reach New York the abolitionists will tell you +what savages we are, and they will prevail on you to stay there; and we +shall never see you again." + +"But I assure you, Mr. Farrow, you are mistaken. I not only _mean_ to +come back, but _will_ come back, and pay every cent of the twelve +hundred dollars for myself and child." + +I was beginning to feel sick at heart, for I could not accept the +signature of this man when he had no faith in my pledges. No; slavery, +eternal slavery rather than be regarded with distrust by those whose +respect I esteemed. + +"But--I am not mistaken," he persisted. "Time will show. When you start +for the North I shall bid you good-by." + +The heart grew heavy. Every ray of sunshine was eclipsed. With humbled +pride, weary step, tearful face, and a dull, aching pain, I left the +house. I walked along the street mechanically. The cloud had no silver +lining now. The rosebuds of hope had withered and died without lifting +up their heads to receive the dew kiss of morning. There was no morning +for me--all was night, dark night. + +I reached my own home, and weeping threw myself upon the bed. My trunk +was packed, my luncheon was prepared by mother, the cars were ready to +bear me where I would not hear the clank of chains, where I would +breathe the free, invigorating breezes of the glorious North. I had +dreamed such a happy dream, in imagination had drunk of the water, the +pure, sweet crystal water of life, but now--now--the flowers had +withered before my eyes; darkness had settled down upon me like a pall, +and I was left alone with cruel mocking shadows. + +The first paroxysm of grief was scarcely over, when a carriage stopped +in front of the house; Mrs. Le Bourgois, one of my kind patrons, got out +of it and entered the door. She seemed to bring sunshine with her +handsome cheery face. She came to where I was, and in her sweet way +said: + +"Lizzie, I hear that you are going to New York to beg for money to buy +your freedom. I have been thinking over the matter, and told Ma it would +be a shame to allow you to go North to _beg_ for what we should _give_ +you. You have many friends in St. Louis, and I am going to raise the +twelve hundred dollars required among them. I have two hundred dollars +put away for a present; am indebted to you one hundred dollars; mother +owes you fifty dollars, and will add another fifty to it; and as I do +not want the present, I will make the money a present to you. Don't +start for New York now until I see what I can do among your friends." + +Like a ray of sunshine she came, and like a ray of sunshine she went +away. The flowers no longer were withered, drooping. Again they seemed +to bud and grow in fragrance and beauty. Mrs. Le Bourgois, God bless her +dear good heart, was more than successful. The twelve hundred dollars +were raised, and at last my son and myself were free. Free, free! what a +glorious ring to the word. Free! the bitter heart-struggle was over. +Free! the soul could go out to heaven and to God with no chains to clog +its flight or pull it down. Free! the earth wore a brighter look, and +the very stars seemed to sing with joy. Yes, free! free by the laws of +man and the smile of God--and Heaven bless them who made me so! + +The following, copied from the original papers, contain, in brief, the +history of my emancipation:-- + + + "I promise to give Lizzie and her son George their freedom, + on the payment of $1200. + + "ANNE P. GARLAND. + + + "June 27, 1855." + + "LIZZY:--I send you this note to sign for the sum of $75, and + when I give you the whole amount you will then sign the other + note for $100. + + "ELLEN M. DOAN. + + + "In the paper you will find $25; see it is all right before + the girl leaves." + + + "I have received of Lizzy Keckley $950, which I have + deposited with Darby & Barksdale for her--$600 on the 21st + July, $300 on the 27th and 28th of July, and $50 on 13th + August, 1855. + + "I have and shall make use of said money for Lizzy's benefit, + and hereby guarantee to her one per cent. per month--as much + more as can be made she shall have. The one per cent., as it + may be checked out, I will be responsible for myself, as well + as for the whole amount, when it shall be needed by her. + + "WILLIS L. WILLIAMS. + + + "ST. LOUIS, 13th August, 1855." + + "Know all men by these presents, that for and in + consideration of the love and affection we bear towards our + sister, Anne P. Garland, of St. Louis, Missouri, and for the + further consideration of $5 in hand paid, we hereby sell and + convey unto her, the said Anne P. Garland, a negro woman + named Lizzie, and a negro boy, her son, named George; said + Lizzie now resides at St. Louis, and is a seamstress, known + there as Lizzie Garland, the wife of a yellow man named + James, and called James Keckley; said George is a bright + mulatto boy, and is known in St. Louis as Garland's George. + We warrant these two slaves to be slaves for life, but make + no representations as to age or health. + + "Witness our hands and seals, this 10th day of August, 1855. + + "JAS. R. PUTNAM, [L.S.] + "E. M. PUTNAM, [L.S.] + "A. BURWELL, [L.S.]" + + + "THE STATE OF MISSISSIPPI, WARREN COUNTY, + CITY OF VICKSBURG. } _SS._ + + "Be it remembered, that on the tenth day of August, in the + year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five, + before me, Francis N. Steele, a Commissioner, resident in the + city of Vicksburg, duly commissioned and qualified by the + executive authority, and under the laws of the State of + Missouri, to take the acknowledgment of deeds, etc., to be + used or recorded therein, personally appeared James R. Putnam + and E. M. Putnam, his wife, and Armistead Burwell, to me + known to be the individuals named in, and who executed the + foregoing conveyance, and acknowledged that they executed the + same for the purposes therein mentioned; and the E. M. Putnam + being by me examined apart from her husband, and being fully + acquainted with the contents of the foregoing conveyance, + acknowledged that she executed the same freely, and + relinquished her dower, and any other claim she might have in + and to the property therein mentioned, freely, and without + fear, compulsion, or undue influence of her said husband. + + "In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed + my official seal, this 10th day of August, A.D. 1855. + + [L.S.] "F. N. STEELE, + "_Commissioner for Missouri_." + + + "Know all men that I, Anne P. Garland, of the County and City + of St. Louis, State of Missouri, for and in consideration of + the sum of $1200, to me in hand paid this day in cash, hereby + emancipate my negro woman Lizzie, and her son George; the + said Lizzie is known in St. Louis as the wife of James, who + is called James Keckley; is of light complexion, about 37 + years of age, by trade a dress-maker, and called by those who + know her Garland's Lizzie. The said boy, George, is the only + child of Lizzie, is about 16 years of age, and is almost + white, and called by those who know him Garland's George. + + "Witness my hand and seal, this 13th day of November, 1855. + + "ANNE P. GARLAND, [L.S.] + "Witness:--JOHN WICKHAM, + "WILLIS L. WILLIAMS." + + + _In St. Louis Circuit Court, October Term, 1855. November 15, + 1855._ "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "Be it remembered, that on this fifteenth day of November, + eighteen hundred and fifty-five, in open court came John + Wickham and Willis L. Williams, these two subscribing + witnesses, examined under oath to that effect, proved the + execution and acknowledgment of said deed by Anne P. Garland + to Lizzie and her son George, which said proof of + acknowledgment is entered on the record of the court of that + day. + + "In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal + of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, the day + and year last aforesaid. + + [L.S.] "WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_." + + + "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "I, Wm. J. Hammond, Clerk of the Circuit Court within and for + the county aforesaid, certify the foregoing to be a true copy + of a deed of emancipation from Anne P. Garland to Lizzie and + her son George, as fully as the same remain in my office. + + "In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal + of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, this + fifteenth day of November, 1855. + + "WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_. + "By WM. A. PENNINGTON, D.C." + + + "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "I, the undersigned Recorder of said county, certify that the + foregoing instrument of writing was filed for record in my + office on the 14th day of November, 1855; it is truly + recorded in Book No. 169, page 288. + + "Witness my hand and official seal, date last aforesaid. + + [L.S.] "C. KEEMLE, _Recorder_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN THE FAMILY OF SENATOR JEFFERSON DAVIS + + +The twelve hundred dollars with which I purchased the freedom of myself +and son I consented to accept only as a loan. I went to work in earnest, +and in a short time paid every cent that was so kindly advanced by my +lady patrons of St. Louis. All this time my husband was a source of +trouble to me, and a burden. Too close occupation with my needle had its +effects upon my health, and feeling exhausted with work, I determined to +make a change. I had a conversation with Mr. Keckley; informed him that +since he persisted in dissipation we must separate; that I was going +North, and that I should never live with him again, at least until I had +good evidence of his reform. He was rapidly debasing himself, and +although I was willing to work for him, I was not willing to share his +degradation. Poor man; he had his faults, but over these faults death +has drawn a veil. My husband is now sleeping in his grave, and in the +silent grave I would bury all unpleasant memories of him. + +I left St. Louis in the spring of 1860, taking the cars direct for +Baltimore, where I stopped six weeks, attempting to realize a sum of +money by forming classes of young colored women, and teaching them my +system of cutting and fitting dresses. The scheme was not successful, +for after six weeks of labor and vexation, I left Baltimore with +scarcely money enough to pay my fare to Washington. Arriving in the +capital, I sought and obtained work at two dollars and a half per day. +However, as I was notified that I could only remain in the city ten days +without obtaining a license to do so, such being the law, and as I did +not know whom to apply to for assistance, I was sorely troubled. I also +had to have some one vouch to the authorities that I was a free woman. +My means were too scanty, and my profession too precarious to warrant my +purchasing [a] license. In my perplexity I called on a lady for whom I +was sewing, Miss Ringold, a member of Gen. Mason's family, from +Virginia. I stated my case, and she kindly volunteered to render me all +the assistance in her power. She called on Mayor Burritt with me, and +Miss Ringold succeeded in making an arrangement for me to remain in +Washington without paying the sum required for a license; moreover, I +was not to be molested. I rented apartments in a good locality, and soon +had a good run of custom. The summer passed, winter came, and I was +still in Washington. Mrs. Davis, wife of Senator Jefferson Davis, came +from the South in November of 1860, with her husband. Learning that Mrs. +Davis wanted a modiste, I presented myself, and was employed by her on +the recommendation of one of my patrons and her intimate friend, Mrs. +Captain Hetsill. I went to the house to work, but finding that they were +such late risers, and as I had to fit many dresses on Mrs. Davis, I told +her that I should prefer giving half the day to her, working the other +in my own room for some of my other lady patrons. Mrs. D. consented to +the proposition, and it was arranged that I should come to her own house +every day after 12 M. It was the winter before the breaking out of that +fierce and bloody war between the two sections of the country; and as +Mr. Davis occupied a leading position, his house was the resort of +politicians and statesmen from the South. Almost every night, as I +learned from the servants and other members of the family, secret +meetings were held at the house; and some of these meetings were +protracted to a very late hour. The prospects of war were freely +discussed in my presence by Mr. and Mrs. Davis and their friends. The +holidays were approaching, and Mrs. Davis kept me busy in manufacturing +articles of dress for herself and children. She desired to present Mr. +Davis on Christmas with a handsome dressing-gown. The material was +purchased, and for weeks the work had been under way. Christmas eve +came, and the gown had been laid aside so often that it was still +unfinished. I saw that Mrs. D. was anxious to have it completed, so I +volunteered to remain and work on it. Wearily the hours dragged on, but +there was no rest for my busy fingers. I persevered in my task, +notwithstanding my head was aching. Mrs. Davis was busy in the adjoining +room, arranging the Christmas tree for the children. I looked at the +clock, and the hands pointed to a quarter of twelve. I was arranging the +cords on the gown when the Senator came in; he looked somewhat careworn, +and his step seemed to be a little nervous. He leaned against the door, +and expressed his admiration of the Christmas tree, but there was no +smile on his face. Turning round, he saw me sitting in the adjoining +room, and quickly exclaimed: + +"That you, Lizzie! why are you here so late? Still at work; I hope that +Mrs. Davis is not too exacting!" + +"No, sir," I answered. "Mrs. Davis was very anxious to have this gown +finished to-night, and I volunteered to remain and complete it." + +"Well, well, the case must be urgent," and he came slowly towards me, +took the gown in his hand, and asked the color of the silk, as he said +the gas-light was so deceptive to his old eyes. + +"It is a drab changeable silk, Mr. Davis," I answered; and might have +added that it was rich and handsome, but did not, well knowing that he +would make the discovery in the morning. + +He smiled curiously, but turned and walked from the room without another +question. He inferred that the gown was for him, that it was to be the +Christmas present from his wife, and he did not wish to destroy the +pleasure that she would experience in believing that the gift would +prove a surprise. In this respect, as in many others, he always appeared +to me as a thoughtful, considerate man in the domestic circle. As the +clock struck twelve I finished the gown, little dreaming of the future +that was before it. It was worn, I have not the shadow of a doubt, by +Mr. Davis during the stormy years that he was the President of the +Confederate States. + +The holidays passed, and before the close of January the war was +discussed in Mr. Davis's family as an event certain to happen in the +future. Mrs. Davis was warmly attached to Washington, and I often heard +her say that she disliked the idea of breaking up old associations, and +going South to suffer from trouble and deprivation. One day, while +discussing the question in my presence with one of her intimate +friends, she exclaimed: "I would rather remain in Washington and be +kicked about, than go South and be Mrs. President." Her friend expressed +surprise at the remark, and Mrs. Davis insisted that the opinion was an +honest one. + +While dressing her one day, she said to me: "Lizzie, you are so very +handy that I should like to take you South with me." + +"When do you go South, Mrs. Davis?" I inquired. + +"Oh, I cannot tell just now, but it will be soon. You know there is +going to be war, Lizzie?" + +"No!" + +"But I tell you yes." + +"Who will go to war?" I asked. + +"The North and South," was her ready reply. "The Southern people will +not submit to the humiliating demands of the Abolition party; they will +fight first." + +"And which do you think will whip?" + +"The South, of course. The South is impulsive, is in earnest, and the +Southern soldiers will fight to conquer. The North will yield, when it +sees the South is in earnest, rather than engage in a long and bloody +war." + +"But, Mrs. Davis, are you certain that there will be war?" + +"Certain!--I know it. You had better go South with me; I will take good +care of you. Besides, when the war breaks out, the colored people will +suffer in the North. The Northern people will look upon them as the +cause of the war, and I fear, in their exasperation, will be inclined to +treat you harshly. Then, I may come back to Washington in a few months, +and live in the White House. The Southern people talk of choosing Mr. +Davis for their President. In fact, it may be considered settled that he +will be their President. As soon as we go South and secede from the +other States, we will raise an army and march on Washington, and then I +shall live in the White House." + +I was bewildered with what I heard. I had served Mrs. Davis faithfully, +and she had learned to place the greatest confidence in me. At first I +was almost tempted to go South with her, for her reasoning seemed +plausible. At the time the conversation was closed, with my promise to +consider the question. + +I thought over the question much, and the more I thought the less +inclined I felt to accept the proposition so kindly made by Mrs. Davis. +I knew the North to be strong, and believed that the people would fight +for the flag that they pretended to venerate so highly. The Republican +party had just emerged from a heated campaign, flushed with victory, and +I could not think that the hosts composing the party would quietly yield +all they had gained in the Presidential canvass. A show of war from the +South, I felt, would lead to actual war in the North; and with the two +sections bitterly arrayed against each other, I preferred to cast my lot +among the people of the North. + +I parted with Mrs. Davis kindly, half promising to join her in the South +if further deliberation should induce me to change my views. A few weeks +before she left Washington I made two chintz wrappers for her. She said +that she must give up expensive dressing for a while; and that she, with +the Southern people, now that war was imminent, must learn to practise +lessons of economy. She left some fine needle-work in my hands, which I +finished, and forwarded to her at Montgomery, Alabama, in the month of +June, through the assistance of Mrs. Emory, one of her oldest and best +friends. + +Since bidding them good-by at Washington, early in the year 1860, I have +never met any of the Davis family. Years of excitement, years of +bloodshed, and hundreds of thousands of graves intervene between the +months I spent in the family and now. The years have brought many +changes; and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a +slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced +the heart and soul tortures of a slave's life, can say to Mr. Jefferson +Davis, "Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace." + +In the winter of 1865 I was in Chicago, and one day visited the great +charity fair held for the benefit of the families of those soldiers who +were killed or wounded during the war. In one part of the building was a +wax figure of Jefferson Davis, wearing over his other garments the dress +in which it was reported that he was captured. There was always a great +crowd around this figure, and I was naturally attracted towards it. I +worked my way to the figure, and in examining the dress made the +pleasing discovery that it was one of the chintz wrappers that I had +made for Mrs. Davis, a short time before she departed from Washington +for the South. When it was announced that I recognized the dress as one +that I had made for the wife of the late Confederate President there was +great cheering and excitement, and I at once became the object of the +deepest curiosity. Great crowds followed me, and in order to escape from +the embarrassing situation I left the building. + +I believe it now is pretty well established that Mr. Davis had on a +water-proof cloak instead of a dress, as first reported, when he was +captured. This does not invalidate any portion of my story. The dress on +the wax figure at the fair in Chicago unquestionably was one of the +chintz wrappers that I made for Mrs. Davis in January, 1860, in +Washington; and I infer, since it was not found on the body of the +fugitive President of the South, it was taken from the trunks of Mrs. +Davis, captured at the same time. Be this as it may, the coincidence is +none the less striking and curious. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY INTRODUCTION TO MRS. LINCOLN + + +Ever since arriving in Washington I had a great desire to work for the +ladies of the White House, and to accomplish this end I was ready to +make almost any sacrifice consistent with propriety. Work came in +slowly, and I was beginning to feel very much embarrassed, for I did not +know how I was to meet the bills staring me in the face. It is true, the +bills were small, but then they were formidable to me, who had little or +nothing to pay them with. While in this situation I called at the +Ringolds, where I met Mrs. Captain Lee. Mrs. L. was in a state bordering +on excitement, as the great event of the season, the dinner-party given +in honor of the Prince of Wales, was soon to come off, and she must have +a dress suitable for the occasion. The silk had been purchased, but a +dress-maker had not yet been found. Miss Ringold recommended me, and I +received the order to make the dress. When I called on Mrs. Lee the next +day, her husband was in the room, and handing me a roll of bank bills, +amounting to one hundred dollars, he requested me to purchase the +trimmings, and to spare no expense in making a selection. With the money +in my pocket I went out in the street, entered the store of Harper & +Mitchell, and asked to look at their laces. Mr. Harper waited on me +himself, and was polite and kind. When I asked permission to carry the +laces to Mrs. Lee, in order to learn whether she could approve my +selection or not, he gave a ready assent. When I reminded him that I was +a stranger, and that the goods were valuable, he remarked that he was +not afraid to trust me--that he believed my face was the index to an +honest heart. It was pleasant to be spoken to thus, and I shall never +forget the kind words of Mr. Harper. I often recall them, for they are +associated with the dawn of a brighter period in my dark life. I +purchased the trimmings, and Mr. Harper allowed me a commission of +twenty-five dollars on the purchase. The dress was done in time, and it +gave complete satisfaction. Mrs. Lee attracted great attention at the +dinner-party, and her elegant dress proved a good card for me. I +received numerous orders, and was relieved from all pecuniary +embarrassments. One of my patrons was Mrs. Gen. McClean, a daughter of +Gen. Sumner. One day when I was very busy, Mrs. McC. drove up to my +apartments, came in where I was engaged with my needle, and in her +emphatic way said: + +"Lizzie, I am invited to dine at Willard's on next Sunday, and +positively I have not a dress fit to wear on the occasion. I have just +purchased material, and you must commence work on it right away." + +"But Mrs. McClean," I replied, "I have more work now promised than I can +do. It is impossible for me to make a dress for you to wear on Sunday +next." + +"Pshaw! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday;" +and she spoke with some impatience. + +"I am sorry," I began, but she interrupted me. + +"Now don't say no again. I tell you that you must make the dress. I have +often heard you say that you would like to work for the ladies of the +White House. Well, I have it in my power to obtain you this privilege. I +know Mrs. Lincoln well, and you shall make a dress for her provided you +finish mine in time to wear at dinner on Sunday." + +The inducement was the best that could have been offered. I would +undertake the dress if I should have to sit up all night--every night, +to make my pledge good. I sent out and employed assistants, and, after +much worry and trouble, the dress was completed to the satisfaction of +Mrs. McClean. It appears that Mrs. Lincoln had upset a cup of coffee on +the dress she designed wearing on the evening of the reception after the +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, which +rendered it necessary that she should have a new one for the occasion. +On asking Mrs. McClean who her dress-maker was, that lady promptly +informed her, + +"Lizzie Keckley." + +"Lizzie Keckley? The name is familiar to me. She used to work for some +of my lady friends in St. Louis, and they spoke well of her. Can you +recommend her to me?" + +"With confidence. Shall I send her to you?" + +"If you please. I shall feel under many obligations for your kindness." + +The next Sunday Mrs. McClean sent me a message to call at her house at +four o'clock P.M., that day. As she did not state why I was to call, I +determined to wait till Monday morning. Monday morning came, and nine +o'clock found me at Mrs. McC.'s house. The streets of the capital were +thronged with people, for this was Inauguration day. A new President, a +man of the people from the broad prairies of the West, was to accept the +solemn oath of office, was to assume the responsibilities attached to +the high position of Chief Magistrate of the United States. Never was +such deep interest felt in the inauguration proceedings as was felt +today; for threats of assassination had been made, and every breeze from +the South came heavily laden with the rumors of war. Around Willard's +hotel swayed an excited crowd, and it was with the utmost difficulty +that I worked my way to the house on the opposite side of the street, +occupied by the McCleans. Mrs. McClean was out, but presently an aide on +General McClean's staff called, and informed me that I was wanted at +Willard's. I crossed the street, and on entering the hotel was met by +Mrs. McClean, who greeted me: + +"Lizzie, why did you not come yesterday, as I requested? Mrs. Lincoln +wanted to see you, but I fear that now you are too late." + +"I am sorry, Mrs. McClean. You did not say what you wanted with me +yesterday, so I judged that this morning would do as well." + +"You should have come yesterday," she insisted. "Go up to Mrs. Lincoln's +room"--giving me the number--"she may find use for you yet." + +With a nervous step I passed on, and knocked at Mrs. Lincoln's door. A +cheery voice bade me come in, and a lady, inclined to stoutness, about +forty years of age, stood before me. + +"You are Lizzie Keckley, I believe." + +I bowed assent. + +"The dress-maker that Mrs. McClean recommended?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"Very well; I have not time to talk to you now, but would like to have +you call at the White House, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, where I +shall then be." + +I bowed myself out of the room, and returned to my apartments. The day +passed slowly, for I could not help but speculate in relation to the +appointed interview for the morrow. My long-cherished hope was about to +be realized, and I could not rest. + +Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, I crossed the threshold of the White +House for the first time. I was shown into a waiting-room, and informed +that Mrs. Lincoln was at breakfast. In the waiting-room I found no less +than three mantua-makers waiting for an interview with the wife of the +new President. It seems that Mrs. Lincoln had told several of her lady +friends that she had urgent need for a dress-maker, and that each of +these friends had sent her mantua-maker to the White House. Hope fell at +once. With so many rivals for the position sought after, I regarded my +chances for success as extremely doubtful. I was the last one summoned +to Mrs. Lincoln's presence. All the others had a hearing, and were +dismissed. I went up-stairs timidly, and entering the room with nervous +step, discovered the wife of the President standing by a window, looking +out, and engaged in lively conversation with a lady, Mrs. Grimsly, as I +afterwards learned. Mrs. L. came forward, and greeted me warmly. + +"You have come at last. Mrs. Keckley, who have you worked for in the +city?" + +"Among others, Mrs. Senator Davis has been one of my best patrons," was +my reply. + +"Mrs. Davis! So you have worked for her, have you? Of course you gave +satisfaction; so far, good. Can you do my work?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have much work for me to do?" + +"That, Mrs. Keckley, will depend altogether upon your prices. I trust +that your terms are reasonable. I cannot afford to be extravagant. We +are just from the West, and are poor. If you do not charge too much, I +shall be able to give you all my work." + +"I do not think there will be any difficulty about charges, Mrs. +Lincoln; my terms are reasonable." + +"Well, if you will work cheap, you shall have plenty to do. I can't +afford to pay big prices, so I frankly tell you so in the beginning." + +The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and I measured Mrs. Lincoln, +took the dress with me, a bright rose-colored moiré-antique, and +returned the next day to fit it on her. A number of ladies were in the +room, all making preparations for the levee to come off on Friday night. +These ladies, I learned, were relatives of Mrs. L.'s,--Mrs. Edwards and +Mrs. Kellogg, her own sisters, and Elizabeth Edwards and Julia Baker, +her nieces. Mrs. Lincoln this morning was dressed in a cashmere wrapper, +quilted down the front; and she wore a simple head-dress. The other +ladies wore morning robes. + +I was hard at work on the dress, when I was informed that the levee had +been postponed from Friday night till Tuesday night. This, of course, +gave me more time to complete my task. Mrs. Lincoln sent for me, and +suggested some alteration in style, which was made. She also requested +that I make a waist of blue watered silk for Mrs. Grimsly, as work on +the dress would not require all my time. + +Tuesday evening came, and I had taken the last stitches on the dress. I +folded it and carried it to the White House, with the waist for Mrs. +Grimsly. When I went up-stairs, I found the ladies in a terrible state +of excitement. Mrs. Lincoln was protesting that she could not go down, +for the reason that she had nothing to wear. + +"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me--deceived me. Why do you bring +my dress at this late hour?" + +"Because I have just finished it, and I thought I should be in time." + +"But you are not in time, Mrs. Keckley; you have bitterly disappointed +me. I have no time now to dress, and, what is more, I will not dress, +and go down-stairs." + +"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Mrs. Lincoln, for I intended to +be in time. Will you let me dress you? I can have you ready in a few +minutes." + +"No, I won't be dressed. I will stay in my room. Mr. Lincoln can go down +with the other ladies." + +"But there is plenty of time for you to dress, Mary," joined in Mrs. +Grimsly and Mrs. Edwards. "Let Mrs. Keckley assist you, and she will +soon have you ready." + +Thus urged, she consented. I dressed her hair, and arranged the dress on +her. It fitted nicely, and she was pleased. Mr. Lincoln came in, threw +himself on the sofa, laughed with Willie and little Tad, and then +commenced pulling on his gloves, quoting poetry all the while. + +"You seem to be in a poetical mood to-night," said his wife. + +"Yes, mother, these are poetical times," was his pleasant reply. "I +declare, you look charming in that dress. Mrs. Keckley has met with +great success." And then he proceeded to compliment the other ladies. + +Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moiré-antique. She wore +a pearl necklace, pearl ear-rings, pearl bracelets, and red roses in her +hair. Mrs. Baker was dressed in lemon-colored silk; Mrs. Kellogg in a +drab silk, ashes of rose; Mrs. Edwards in a brown and black silk; Miss +Edwards in crimson, and Mrs. Grimsly in blue watered silk. Just before +starting downstairs, Mrs. Lincoln's lace handkerchief was the object of +search. It had been displaced by Tad, who was mischievous, and hard to +restrain. The handkerchief found, all became serene. Mrs. Lincoln took +the President's arm, and with smiling face led the train below. I was +surprised at her grace and composure. I had heard so much, in current +and malicious report, of her low life, of her ignorance and vulgarity, +that I expected to see her embarrassed on this occasion. Report, I soon +saw, was wrong. No queen, accustomed to the usages of royalty all her +life, could have comported herself with more calmness and dignity than +did the wife of the President. She was confident and self-possessed, and +confidence always gives grace. + +This levee was a brilliant one, and the only one of the season. I became +the regular modiste of Mrs. Lincoln. I made fifteen or sixteen dresses +for her during the spring and early part of the summer, when she left +Washington; spending the hot weather at Saratoga, Long Branch, and other +places. In the mean time I was employed by Mrs. Senator Douglas, one of +the loveliest ladies that I ever met, Mrs. Secretary Wells, Mrs. +Secretary Stanton, and others. Mrs. Douglas always dressed in deep +mourning, with excellent taste, and several of the leading ladies of +Washington society were extremely jealous of her superior attractions. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WILLIE LINCOLN'S DEATH-BED + + +Mrs. Lincoln returned to Washington in November, and again duty called +me to the White House. The war was now in progress, and every day +brought stirring news from the front--the front, where the Gray opposed +the Blue, where flashed the bright sabre in the sunshine, where were +heard the angry notes of battle, the deep roar of cannon, and the +fearful rattle of musketry; where new graves were being made every day, +where brother forgot a mother's early blessing and sought the lifeblood +of brother, and friend raised the deadly knife against friend. Oh, the +front, with its stirring battle-scenes! Oh, the front, with its ghastly +heaps of dead! The life of the nation was at stake; and when the land +was full of sorrow, there could not be much gayety at the capital. The +days passed quietly with me. I soon learned that some people had an +intense desire to penetrate the inner circle of the White House. No +President and his family, heretofore occupying this mansion, ever +excited so much curiosity as the present incumbents. Mr. Lincoln had +grown up in the wilds of the West, and evil report had said much of him +and his wife. The polite world was shocked, and the tendency to +exaggerate intensified curiosity. As soon as it was known that I was the +modiste of Mrs. Lincoln, parties crowded around and affected friendship +for me, hoping to induce me to betray the secrets of the domestic +circle. One day a woman, I will not call her a lady, drove up to my +rooms, gave me an order to make a dress, and insisted on partly paying +me in advance. She called on me every day, and was exceedingly kind. +When she came to take her dress away, she cautiously remarked: + +"Mrs. Keckley, you know Mrs. Lincoln?" + +"Yes." + +"You are her modiste; are you not?" + +"Yes." + +"You know her very well; do you not?" + +"I am with her every day or two." + +"Don't you think you would have some influence with her?" + +"I cannot say. Mrs. Lincoln, I presume, would listen to anything I +should suggest, but whether she would be influenced by a suggestion of +mine is another question." + +"I am sure that you could influence her, Mrs. Keckley. Now listen; I +have a proposition to make. I have a great desire to become an inmate of +the White House. I have heard so much of Mr. Lincoln's goodness that I +should like to be near him; and if I can enter the White House no other +way, I am willing to go as a menial. My dear Mrs. Keckley, will you not +recommend me to Mrs. Lincoln as a friend of yours out of employment, and +ask her to take me as a chambermaid? If you will do this you shall be +well rewarded. It may be worth several thousand dollars to you in time." + +I looked at the woman in amazement. A bribe, and to betray the +confidence of my employer! Turning to her with a glance of scorn, I +said: + +"Madam, you are mistaken in regard to my character. Sooner than betray +the trust of a friend, I would throw myself into the Potomac river. I am +not so base as that. Pardon me, but there is the door, and I trust that +you will never enter my room again." + +She sprang to her feet in deep confusion, and passed through the door, +murmuring: "Very well; you will live to regret your action today." + +"Never, never!" I exclaimed, and closed the door after her with a bang. +I afterwards learned that this woman was an actress, and that her object +was to enter the White House as a servant, learn its secrets, and then +publish a scandal to the world. I do not give her name, for such +publicity would wound the sensitive feelings of friends, who would have +to share her disgrace, without being responsible for her faults. I +simply record the incident to show how I often was approached by +unprincipled parties. It is unnecessary to say that I indignantly +refused every bribe offered. + +The first public appearance of Mrs. Lincoln that winter was at the +reception on New Year's Day. This reception was shortly followed by a +brilliant levee. The day after the levee I went to the White House, and +while fitting a dress to Mrs. Lincoln, she said: + +"Lizabeth"--she had learned to drop the E--"Lizabeth, I have an idea. +These are war times, and we must be as economical as possible. You know +the President is expected to give a series of state dinners every +winter, and these dinners are very costly; Now I want to avoid this +expense; and my idea is, that if I give three large receptions, the +state dinners can be scratched from the programme. What do you think, +Lizabeth?" + +"I think that you are right, Mrs. Lincoln." + +"I am glad to hear you say so. If I can make Mr. Lincoln take the same +view of the case, I shall not fail to put the idea into practice." + +Before I left her room that day, Mr. Lincoln came in. She at once stated +the case to him. He pondered the question a few moments before +answering. + +"Mother, I am afraid your plan will not work." + +"But it _will_ work, if you will only determine that it _shall_ work." + +"It is breaking in on the regular custom," he mildly replied. + +"But you forget, father, these are war times, and old customs can be +done away with for the once. The idea is economical, you must admit." + +"Yes, mother, but we must think of something besides economy." + +"I do think of something else. Public receptions are more democratic +than stupid state dinners--are more in keeping with the spirit of the +institutions of our country, as you would say if called upon to make a +stump speech. There are a great many strangers in the city, foreigners +and others, whom we can entertain at our receptions, but whom we cannot +invite to our dinners." + +"I believe you are right, mother. You argue the point well. I think that +we shall have to decide on the receptions." + +So the day was carried. The question was decided, and arrangements were +made for the first reception. It now was January, and cards were issued +for February. + +The children, Tad and Willie, were constantly receiving presents. Willie +was so delighted with a little pony, that he insisted on riding it every +day. The weather was changeable, and exposure resulted in a severe cold, +which deepened into fever. He was very sick, and I was summoned to his +bedside. It was sad to see the poor boy suffer. Always of a delicate +constitution, he could not resist the strong inroads of disease. The +days dragged wearily by, and he grew weaker and more shadow-like. He was +his mother's favorite child, and she doted on him. It grieved her heart +sorely to see him suffer. When able to be about, he was almost +constantly by her side. When I would go in her room, almost always I +found blue-eyed Willie there, reading from an open book, or curled up in +a chair with pencil and paper in hand. He had decidedly a literary +taste, and was a studious boy. A short time before his death he wrote +this simple little poem: + + "WASHINGTON, D. C., October 30, 1861. + + DEAR SIR:--I enclose you my first attempt at poetry. + + "Yours truly, + "WM. W. LINCOLN. + + "_To the Editor of the National Republican._" + + LINES ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL EDWARD BAKER. + + THERE was no patriot like Baker, + So noble and so true; + He fell as a soldier on the field, + His face to the sky of blue. + + His voice is silent in the hall + Which oft his presence graced; + No more he'll hear the loud acclaim + Which rang from place to place. + + No squeamish notions filled his breast, + _The Union_ was his theme; + "_No surrender and no compromise_," + His day-thought and night's dream. + + His Country has _her_ part to pay + To'rds those he has left behind; + His widow and his children all, + She must always keep in mind. + +Finding that Willie continued to grow worse, Mrs. Lincoln determined to +withdraw her cards of invitation and postpone the reception. Mr. Lincoln +thought that the cards had better not be withdrawn. At least he advised +that the doctor be consulted before any steps were taken. Accordingly +Dr. Stone was called in. He pronounced Willie better, and said that +there was every reason for an early recovery. He thought, since the +invitations had been issued, it would be best to go on with the +reception. Willie, he insisted, was in no immediate danger. Mrs. Lincoln +was guided by these counsels, and no postponement was announced. On the +evening of the reception Willie was suddenly taken worse. His mother sat +by his bedside a long while, holding his feverish hand in her own, and +watching his labored breathing. The doctor claimed there was no cause +for alarm. I arranged Mrs. Lincoln's hair, then assisted her to dress. +Her dress was white satin, trimmed with black lace. The trail was very +long, and as she swept through the room, Mr. Lincoln was standing with +his back to the fire, his hands behind him, and his eyes on the carpet. +His face wore a thoughtful, solemn look. The rustling of the satin dress +attracted his attention. He looked at it a few moments; then, in his +quaint, quiet way remarked-- + +"Whew! our cat has a long tail to-night." + +Mrs. Lincoln did not reply. The President added: + +"Mother, it is my opinion, if some of that tail was nearer the head, it +would be in better style;" and he glanced at her bare arms and neck. She +had a beautiful neck and arm, and low dresses were becoming to her. She +turned away with a look of offended dignity, and presently took the +President's arm, and both went down-stairs to their guests, leaving me +alone with the sick boy. + +The reception was a large and brilliant one, and the rich notes of the +Marine Band in the apartments below came to the sick-room in soft, +subdued murmurs, like the wild, faint sobbing of far-off spirits. Some +of the young people had suggested dancing, but Mr. Lincoln met the +suggestion with an emphatic veto. The brilliance of the scene could not +dispel the sadness that rested upon the face of Mrs. Lincoln. During the +evening she came upstairs several times, and stood by the bedside of the +suffering boy. She loved him with a mother's heart, and her anxiety was +great. The night passed slowly; morning came, and Willie was worse. He +lingered a few days, and died. God called the beautiful spirit home, and +the house of joy was turned into the house of mourning. I was worn out +with watching, and was not in the room when Willie died, but was +immediately sent for. I assisted in washing him and dressing him, and +then laid him on the bed, when Mr. Lincoln came in. I never saw a man so +bowed down with grief. He came to the bed, lifted the cover from the +face of his child, gazed at it long and earnestly, murmuring, "My poor +boy, he was too good for this earth. God has called him home. I know +that he is much better off in heaven, but then we loved him so. It is +hard, hard to have him die!" + +Great sobs choked his utterance. He buried his head in his hands, and +his tall frame was convulsed with emotion. I stood at the foot of the +bed, my eyes full of tears, looking at the man in silent, awe-stricken +wonder. His grief unnerved him, and made him a weak, passive child. I +did not dream that his rugged nature could be so moved. I shall never +forget those solemn moments--genius and greatness weeping over love's +idol lost. There is a grandeur as well as a simplicity about the picture +that will never fade. With me it is immortal--I really believe that I +shall carry it with me across the dark, mysterious river of death. + +Mrs. Lincoln's grief was inconsolable. The pale face of her dead boy +threw her into convulsions. Around him love's tendrils had been twined, +and now that he was dressed for the tomb, it was like tearing the +tendrils out of the heart by their roots. Willie, she often said, if +spared by Providence, would be the hope and stay of her old age. But +Providence had not spared him. The light faded from his eyes, and the +death-dew had gathered on his brow. + +In one of her paroxysms of grief the President kindly bent over his +wife, took her by the arm, and gently led her to the window. With a +stately, solemn gesture, he pointed to the lunatic asylum. + +"Mother, do you see that large white building on the hill yonder? Try +and control your grief, or it will drive you mad, and we may have to +send you there." + +Mrs. Lincoln was so completely overwhelmed with sorrow that she did not +attend the funeral. Willie was laid to rest in the cemetery, and the +White House was draped in mourning. Black crape everywhere met the eye, +contrasting strangely with the gay and brilliant colors of a few days +before. Party dresses were laid aside, and every one who crossed the +threshold of the Presidential mansion spoke in subdued tones when they +thought of the sweet boy at rest-- + +"Under the sod and the dew." + +Previous to this I had lost my son. Leaving Wilberforce, he went to the +battle-field with the three months troops, and was killed in +Missouri--found his grave on the battle-field where the gallant General +Lyon fell. It was a sad blow to me, and the kind womanly letter that +Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me when she heard of my bereavement was full of +golden words of comfort. + +Nathaniel Parker Willis, the genial poet, now sleeping in his grave, +wrote this beautiful sketch of Willie Lincoln, after the sad death of +the bright-eyed boy: + +"This little fellow had his acquaintances among his father's friends, +and I chanced to be one of them. He never failed to seek me out in the +crowd, shake hands, and make some pleasant remark; and this, in a boy of +ten years of age, was, to say the least, endearing to a stranger. But he +had more than mere affectionateness. His self-possession--_aplomb_, as +the French call it--was extraordinary. I was one day passing the White +House, when he was outside with a play-fellow on the side-walk. Mr. +Seward drove in, with Prince Napoleon and two of his suite in the +carriage; and, in a mock-heroic way--terms of intimacy evidently +existing between the boy and the Secretary--the official gentleman took +off his hat, and the Napoleon did the same, all making the young Prince +President a ceremonious salute. Not a bit staggered with the homage, +Willie drew himself up to his full height, took off his little cap with +graceful self-possession, and bowed down formally to the ground, like a +little ambassador. They drove past, and he went on unconcernedly with +his play: the impromptu readiness and good judgment being clearly a +part of his nature. His genial and open expression of countenance was +none the less ingenuous and fearless for a certain tincture of fun; and +it was in this mingling of qualities that he so faithfully resembled his +father. + +"With all the splendor that was around this little fellow in his new +home, he was so bravely and beautifully _himself_--and that only. A wild +flower transplanted from the prairie to the hot-house, he retained his +prairie habits, unalterably pure and simple, till he died. His leading +trait seemed to be a fearless and kindly frankness, willing that +everything should be as different as it pleased, but resting unmoved in +his own conscious single-heartedness. I found I was studying him +irresistibly, as one of the sweet problems of childhood that the world +is blessed with in rare places; and the news of his death (I was absent +from Washington, on a visit to my own children, at the time) came to me +like a knell heard unexpectedly at a merry-making. + +"On the day of the funeral I went before the hour, to take a near +farewell look at the dear boy; for they had embalmed him to send home to +the West--to sleep under the sod of his own valley--and the coffin-lid +was to be closed before the service. The family had just taken their +leave of him, and the servants and nurses were seeing him for the last +time--and with tears and sobs wholly unrestrained, for he was loved like +an idol by every one of them. He lay with eyes closed--his brown hair +parted as we had known it--pale in the slumber of death; but otherwise +unchanged, for he was dressed as if for the evening, and held in one of +his hands, crossed upon his breast, a bunch of exquisite flowers--a +message coming from his mother, while we were looking upon him, that +those flowers might be preserved for her. She was lying sick in her bed, +worn out with grief and over-watching. + +"The funeral was very touching. Of the entertainments in the East Room +the boy had been--for those who now assembled more especially--a most +life-giving variation. With his bright face, and his apt greetings and +replies, he was remembered in every part of that crimson-curtained hall, +built only for pleasure--of all the crowds, each night, certainly the +one least likely to be death's first mark. He was his father's +favorite. They were intimates--often seen hand in hand. And there sat +the man, with a burden on his brain at which the world marvels--bent now +with the load at both heart and brain--staggering under a blow like the +taking from him of his child! His men of power sat around +him--McClellan, with a moist eye when he bowed to the prayer, as I could +see from where I stood; and Chase and Seward, with their austere +features at work; and senators, and ambassadors, and soldiers, all +struggling with their tears--great hearts sorrowing with the President +as a stricken man and a brother. That God may give him strength for all +his burdens is, I am sure, at present the prayer of a nation." + +This sketch was very much admired by Mrs. Lincoln. I copy it from the +scrap-book in which she pasted it, with many tears, with her own hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WASHINGTON IN 1862-3 + + +In the summer of 1862, freedmen began to flock into Washington from +Maryland and Virginia. They came with a great hope in their hearts, and +with all their worldly goods on their backs. Fresh from the bonds of +slavery, fresh from the benighted regions of the plantation, they came +to the Capital looking for liberty, and many of them not knowing it when +they found it. Many good friends reached forth kind hands, but the North +is not warm and impulsive. For one kind word spoken, two harsh ones were +uttered; there was something repelling in the atmosphere, and the bright +joyous dreams of freedom to the slave faded--were sadly altered, in the +presence of that stern, practical mother, reality. Instead of flowery +paths, days of perpetual sunshine, and bowers hanging with golden fruit, +the road was rugged and full of thorns, the sunshine was eclipsed by +shadows, and the mute appeals for help too often were answered by cold +neglect. Poor dusky children of slavery, men and women of my own +race--the transition from slavery to freedom was too sudden for you! The +bright dreams were too rudely dispelled; you were not prepared for the +new life that opened before you, and the great masses of the North +learned to look upon your helplessness with indifference--learned to +speak of you as an idle, dependent race. Reason should have prompted +kinder thoughts. Charity is ever kind. + +One fair summer evening I was walking the streets of Washington, +accompanied by a friend, when a band of music was heard in the distance. +We wondered what it could mean, and curiosity prompted us to find out +its meaning. We quickened our steps, and discovered that it came from +the house of Mrs. Farnham. The yard was brilliantly lighted, ladies and +gentlemen were moving about, and the band was playing some of its +sweetest airs. We approached the sentinel on duty at the gate, and asked +what was going on. He told us that it was a festival given for the +benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers in the city. This suggested an +idea to me. If the white people can give festivals to raise funds for +the relief of suffering soldiers, why should not the well-to-do colored +people go to work to do something for the benefit of the suffering +blacks? I could not rest. The thought was ever present with me, and the +next Sunday I made a suggestion in the colored church, that a society of +colored people be formed to labor for the benefit of the unfortunate +freedmen. The idea proved popular, and in two weeks "the Contraband +Relief Association" was organized, with forty working members. + +In September of 1862, Mrs. Lincoln left Washington for New York, and +requested me to follow her in a few days, and join her at the +Metropolitan Hotel. I was glad of the opportunity to do so, for I +thought that in New York I would be able to do something in the +interests of our society. Armed with credentials, I took the train for +New York, and went to the Metropolitan, where Mrs. Lincoln had secured +accommodations for me. The next morning I told Mrs. Lincoln of my +project; and she immediately headed my list with a subscription of $200. +I circulated among the colored people, and got them thoroughly +interested in the subject, when I was called to Boston by Mrs. Lincoln, +who wished to visit her son Robert, attending college in that city. I +met Mr. Wendell Phillips, and other Boston philanthropists, who gave me +all the assistance in their power. We held a mass meeting at the Colored +Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes, in Boston, raised a sum of money, and +organized there a branch society. The society was organized by Mrs. +Grimes, wife of the pastor, assisted by Mrs. Martin, wife of Rev. Stella +Martin. This branch of the main society, during the war, was able to +send us over eighty large boxes of goods, contributed exclusively by the +colored people of Boston. Returning to New York, we held a successful +meeting at the Shiloh Church, Rev. Henry Highland Garnet, pastor. The +Metropolitan Hotel, at that time as now, employed colored help. I +suggested the object of my mission to Robert Thompson, Steward of the +Hotel, who immediately raised quite a sum of money among the dining-room +waiters. Mr. Frederick Douglass contributed $200, besides lecturing for +us. Other prominent colored men sent in liberal contributions. From +England[B] a large quantity of stores was received. Mrs. Lincoln made +frequent contributions, as also did the President. In 1863 I was +re-elected President of the Association, which office I continue to +hold. + +For two years after Willie's death the White House was the scene of no +fashionable display. The memory of the dead boy was duly respected. In +some things Mrs. Lincoln was an altered woman. Sometimes, when in her +room, with no one present but myself, the mere mention of Willie's name +would excite her emotion, and any trifling memento that recalled him +would move her to tears. She could not bear to look upon his picture; +and after his death she never crossed the threshold of the Guest's Room +in which he died, or the Green Room in which he was embalmed. There was +something supernatural in her dread of these things, and something that +she could not explain. Tad's nature was the opposite of Willie's, and he +was always regarded as his father's favorite child. His black eyes +fairly sparkled with mischief. + +The war progressed, fair fields had been stained with blood, thousands +of brave men had fallen, and thousands of eyes were weeping for the +fallen at home. There were desolate hearthstones in the South as well as +in the North, and as the people of my race watched the sanguinary +struggle, the ebb and flow of the tide of battle, they lifted their +faces Zionward, as if they hoped to catch a glimpse of the Promised Land +beyond the sulphureous clouds of smoke which shifted now and then but to +reveal ghastly rows of new-made graves. Sometimes the very life of the +nation seemed to tremble with the fierce shock of arms. In 1863 the +Confederates were flushed with victory, and sometimes it looked as if +the proud flag of the Union, the glorious old Stars and Stripes, must +yield half its nationality to the tri-barred flag that floated grandly +over long columns of gray. These were sad, anxious days to Mr. Lincoln, +and those who saw the man in privacy only could tell how much he +suffered. One day he came into the room where I was fitting a dress on +Mrs. Lincoln. His step was slow and heavy, and his face sad. Like a +tired child he threw himself upon a sofa, and shaded his eyes with his +hands. He was a complete picture of dejection. Mrs. Lincoln, observing +his troubled look, asked: + +"Where have you been, father?" + +"To the War Department," was the brief, almost sullen answer. + +"Any news?" + +"Yes, plenty of news, but no good news. It is dark, dark everywhere." + +He reached forth one of his long arms, and took a small Bible from a +stand near the head of the sofa, opened the pages of the holy book, and +soon was absorbed in reading them. A quarter of an hour passed, and on +glancing at the sofa the face of the President seemed more cheerful. The +dejected look was gone, and the countenance was lighted up with new +resolution and hope. The change was so marked that I could not but +wonder at it, and wonder led to the desire to know what book of the +Bible afforded so much comfort to the reader. Making the search for a +missing article an excuse, I walked gently around the sofa, and looking +into the open book, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was reading that +divine comforter, Job. He read with Christian eagerness, and the courage +and hope that he derived from the inspired pages made him a new man. I +almost imagined that I could hear the Lord speaking to him from out the +whirlwind of battle: "Gird up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of +thee, and declare thou unto me." What a sublime picture was this! A +ruler of a mighty nation going to the pages of the Bible with simple +Christian earnestness for comfort and courage, and finding both in the +darkest hours of a nation's calamity. Ponder it, O ye scoffers at God's +Holy Word, and then hang your heads for very shame! + +Frequent letters were received warning Mr. Lincoln of assassination, but +he never gave a second thought to the mysterious warnings. The letters, +however, sorely troubled his wife. She seemed to read impending danger +in every rustling leaf, in every whisper of the wind. + +"Where are you going now, father?" she would say to him, as she observed +him putting on his overshoes and shawl. + +"I am going over to the War Department, mother, to try and learn some +news." + +"But, father, you should not go out alone. You know you are surrounded +with danger." + +"All imagination. What does any one want to harm me for? Don't worry +about me, mother, as if I were a little child, for no one is going to +molest me;" and with a confident, unsuspecting air he would close the +door behind him, descend the stairs, and pass out to his lonely walk. + +For weeks, when trouble was anticipated, friends of the President would +sleep in the White House to guard him from danger. + +Robert would come home every few months, bringing new joy to the family +circle. He was very anxious to quit school and enter the army, but the +move was sternly opposed by his mother. + +"We have lost one son, and his loss is as much as I can bear, without +being called upon to make another sacrifice," she would say, when the +subject was under discussion. + +"But many a poor mother has given up all her sons," mildly suggested Mr. +Lincoln, "and our son is not more dear to us than the sons of other +people are to their mothers." + +"That may be; but I cannot bear to have Robert exposed to danger. His +services are not required in the field, and the sacrifice would be a +needless one." + +"The services of every man who loves his country are required in this +war. You should take a liberal instead of a selfish view of the +question, mother." + +Argument at last prevailed, and permission was granted Robert to enter +the army. With the rank of Captain and A. D. C. he went to the field, +and remained in the army till the close of the war. + +I well recollect a little incident that gave me a clearer insight into +Robert's character. He was at home at the time the Tom Thumb combination +was at Washington. The marriage of little Hopo'-my-thumb--Charles +Stratton--to Miss Warren created no little excitement in the world, and +the people of Washington participated in the general curiosity. Some of +Mrs. Lincoln's friends made her believe that it was the duty of Mrs. +Lincoln to show some attention to the remarkable dwarfs. Tom Thumb had +been caressed by royalty in the Old World, and why should not the wife +of the President of his native country smile upon him also? Verily, duty +is one of the greatest bugbears in life. A hasty reception was arranged, +and cards of invitation issued. I had dressed Mrs. Lincoln, and she was +ready to go below and receive her guests, when Robert entered his +mother's room. + +"You are at leisure this afternoon, are you not, Robert?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"Of course, then, you will dress and come down-stairs." + +"No, mother, I do not propose to assist in entertaining Tom Thumb. My +notions of duty, perhaps, are somewhat different from yours." + +Robert had a lofty soul, and he could not stoop to all of the follies +and absurdities of the ephemeral current of fashionable life. + +Mrs. Lincoln's love for her husband sometimes prompted her to act very +strangely. She was extremely jealous of him, and if a lady desired to +court her displeasure, she could select no surer way to do it than to +pay marked attention to the President. These little jealous freaks often +were a source of perplexity to Mr. Lincoln. If it was a reception for +which they were dressing, he would come into her room to conduct her +downstairs, and while pulling on his gloves ask, with a merry twinkle in +his eyes: + +"Well, mother, who must I talk with to-night--shall it be Mrs. D.?" + +"That deceitful woman! No, you shall not listen to her flattery." + +"Well, then, what do you say to Miss C.? She is too young and handsome +to practise deceit." + +"Young and handsome, you call her! You should not judge beauty for me. +No, she is in league with Mrs. D., and you shall not talk with her." + +"Well, mother, I must talk with some one. Is there any one that you do +not object to?" trying to button his glove, with a mock expression of +gravity. + +"I don't know as it is necessary that you should talk to anybody in +particular. You know well enough, Mr. Lincoln, that I do not approve of +your flirtations with silly women, just as if you were a beardless boy, +fresh from school." + +"But, mother, I insist that I must talk with somebody. I can't stand +around like a simpleton, and say nothing. If you will not tell me who I +may talk with, please tell me who I may _not_ talk with." + +"There is Mrs. D. and Miss C. in particular. I detest them both. Mrs. B. +also will come around you, but you need not listen to her flattery. +These are the ones in particular." + +"Very well, mother; now that we have settled the question to your +satisfaction, we will go down-stairs;" and always with stately dignity, +he proffered his arm and led the way. + +[Footnote B: The Sheffield Anti-Slavery Society of England + contributed through Mr. Frederick Douglass, to the Freedmen's + Relief Association, $24.00; Aberdeen Ladies' Society, $40.00; + Anti-Slavery Society of Edinburgh, Scotland, $48.00; Friends at + Bristol, England, $176.00; Birmingham Negro's Friend Society, + $50.00. Also received through Mr. Charles R. Douglass, from the + Birmingham Society, $33.00.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CANDID OPINIONS + + +Often Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln discussed the relations of Cabinet officers, +and gentlemen prominent in politics, in my presence. I soon learned that +the wife of the President had no love for Mr. Salmon P. Chase, at that +time Secretary of the Treasury. She was well versed in human character, +was somewhat suspicious of those by whom she was surrounded, and often +her judgment was correct. Her intuition about the sincerity of +individuals was more accurate than that of her husband. She looked +beyond, and read the reflection of action in the future. Her hostility +to Mr. Chase was very bitter. She claimed that he was a selfish +politician instead of a true patriot, and warned Mr. Lincoln not to +trust him too far. The daughter of the Secretary was quite a belle in +Washington, and Mrs. Lincoln, who was jealous of the popularity of +others, had no desire to build up her social position through political +favor to her father. Miss Chase, now Mrs. Senator Sprague, was a lovely +woman, and was worthy of all the admiration she received. Mr. Lincoln +was more confiding than his wife. He never suspected the fidelity of +those who claimed to be his friends. Honest to the very core himself, +and frank as a child, he never dreamed of questioning the sincerity of +others. + +"Father, I do wish that you would inquire a little into the motives of +Chase," said his wife one day. + +The President was lying carelessly upon a sofa, holding a newspaper in +his hands. "Mother, you are too suspicious. I give you credit for +sagacity, but you are disposed to magnify trifles. Chase is a patriot, +and one of my best friends." + +"Yes, one of your best friends because it is his interest to be so. He +is anything for Chase. If he thought he could make anything by it, he +would betray you to-morrow." + +"I fear that you are prejudiced against the man, mother. I know that you +do him injustice." + +"Mr. Lincoln, you are either blind or will not see. I am not the only +one that has warned you against him." + +"True, I receive letters daily from all parts of the country, telling me +not to trust Chase; but then these letters are written by the political +enemies of the Secretary, and it would be unjust and foolish to pay any +attention to them." + +"Very well, you will find out some day, if you live long enough, that I +have read the man correctly. I only hope that your eyes may not be +opened to the truth when it is too late." The President, as far as I +could judge from his conversation with his wife, continued to confide in +Mr. Chase to the time of his tragic death. + +Mrs. Lincoln was especially severe on Mr. Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of +State. She but rarely lost an opportunity to say an unkind word of him. + +One morning I went to the White House earlier than usual. Mr. Lincoln +was sitting in a chair, reading a paper, stroking with one hand the head +of little Tad. I was basting a dress for Mrs. Lincoln. A servant +entered, and handed the President a letter just brought by a messenger. +He broke the seal, and when he had read the contents his wife asked: + +"Who is the letter from, father?" + +"Seward; I must go over and see him today." + +"Seward! I wish you had nothing to do with that man. He cannot be +trusted." + +"You say the same of Chase. If I listened to you, I should soon be +without a Cabinet." + +"Better be without it than to confide in some of the men that you do. +Seward is worse than Chase. He has no principle." + +"Mother, you are mistaken; your prejudices are so violent that you do +not stop to reason. Seward is an able man, and the country as well as +myself can trust him." + +"Father, you are too honest for this world! You should have been born a +saint. You will generally find it a safe rule to distrust a +disappointed, ambitious politician. It makes me mad to see you sit still +and let that hypocrite, Seward, twine you around his finger as if you +were a skein of thread." + +"It is useless to argue the question, mother. You cannot change my +opinion." + +Mrs. Lincoln prided herself upon her ability to read character. She was +shrewd and far-seeing, and had no patience with the frank, confiding +nature of the President. + +When Andrew Johnson was urged for military Governor of Tennessee, Mrs. +Lincoln bitterly opposed the appointment. + +"He is a demagogue," she said, almost fiercely, "and if you place him in +power, Mr. Lincoln, mark my words, you will rue it some day." + +General McClellan, when made Commander-in-Chief, was the idol of the +soldiers, and never was a general more universally popular. "He is a +humbug," remarked Mrs. Lincoln one day in my presence. + +"What makes you think so, mother?" good-naturedly inquired the +President. + +"Because he talks so much and does so little. If I had the power I would +very soon take off his head, and put some energetic man in his place." + +"But I regard McClellan as a patriot and an able soldier. He has been +much embarrassed. The troops are raw, and the subordinate officers +inclined to be rebellious. There are too many politicians in the army +with shoulder-straps. McClellan is young and popular, and they are +jealous of him. They will kill him off if they can." + +"McClellan can make plenty of excuse for himself, therefore he needs no +advocate in you. If he would only do something, and not promise so much, +I might learn to have a little faith in him. I tell you he is a humbug, +and you will have to find some man to take his place, that is, if you +wish to conquer the South." + +Mrs. Lincoln could not tolerate General Grant. "He is a butcher," she +would often say, "and is not fit to be at the head of an army." + +"But he has been very successful in the field," argued the President. + +"Yes, he generally manages to claim a victory, but such a victory! He +loses two men to the enemy's one. He has no management, no regard for +life. If the war should continue four years longer, and he should remain +in power, he would depopulate the North. I could fight an army as well +myself. According to his tactics, there is nothing under the heavens to +do but to march a new line of men up in front of the rebel breastworks +to be shot down as fast as they take their position, and keep marching +until the enemy grows tired of the slaughter. Grant, I repeat, is an +obstinate fool and a butcher." + +"Well, mother, supposing that we give you command of the army. No doubt +you would do much better than any general that has been tried." There +was a twinkle in the eyes, and a ring of irony in the voice. + +I have often heard Mrs. Lincoln say that if Grant should ever be elected +President of the United States she would desire to leave the country, +and remain absent during his term of office. + +It was well known that Mrs. Lincoln's brothers were in the Confederate +army, and for this reason it was often charged that her sympathies were +with the South. Those who made the hasty charge were never more widely +mistaken. + +One morning, on my way to the White House, I heard that Captain +Alexander Todd, one of her brothers, had been killed. I did not like to +inform Mrs. Lincoln of his death, judging that it would be painful news +to her. I had been in her room but a few minutes when she said, with +apparent unconcern, "Lizzie, I have just heard that one of my brothers +has been killed in the war." + +"I also heard the same, Mrs. Lincoln, but hesitated to speak of it, for +fear the subject would be a painful one to you." + +"You need not hesitate. Of course, it is but natural that I should feel +for one so nearly related to me, but not to the extent that you suppose. +He made his choice long ago. He decided against my husband, and through +him against me. He has been fighting against us; and since he chose to +be our deadly enemy, I see no special reason why I should bitterly mourn +his death." + +I felt relieved, and in subsequent conversations learned that Mrs. +Lincoln had no sympathy for the South. "Why should I sympathize with the +rebels," she would say; "are they not against me? They would hang my +husband to-morrow if it was in their power, and perhaps gibbet me with +him. How then can I sympathize with a people at war with me and mine?" +She always objected to being thought Southern in feeling. + +Mr. Lincoln was generous by nature, and though his whole heart was in +the war, he could not but respect the valor of those opposed to him. His +soul was too great for the narrow, selfish views of partisanship. Brave +by nature himself, he honored bravery in others, even his foes. Time and +again I have heard him speak in the highest terms of the soldierly +qualities of such brave Confederate generals as Lee, Stonewall Jackson, +and Joseph E. Johns[t]on. Jackson was his ideal soldier. "He is a brave, +honest Presbyterian soldier," were his words; "what a pity that we +should have to fight such a gallant fellow! If we only had such a man to +lead the armies of the North, the country would not be appalled with so +many disasters." + +As this is a rambling chapter, I will here record an incident showing +his feeling toward Robert E. Lee. The very morning of the day on which +he was assassinated, his son, Capt. Robert Lincoln, came into the room +with a portrait of General Lee in his hand. The President took the +picture, laid it on a table before him, scanned the face thoughtfully, +and said: "It is a good face; it is the face of a noble, noble, brave +man. I am glad that the war is over at last." Looking up at Robert, he +continued: "Well, my son, you have returned safely from the front. The +war is now closed, and we soon will live in peace with the brave men +that have been fighting against us. I trust that the era of good feeling +has returned with the war, and that henceforth we shall live in peace. +Now listen to me, Robert: you must lay aside your uniform, and return to +college. I wish you to read law for three years, and at the end of that +time I hope that we will be able to tell whether you will make a lawyer +or not." His face was more cheerful than I had seen it for a long while, +and he seemed to be in a generous, forgiving mood. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BEHIND THE SCENES + + +Some of the freedmen and freedwomen had exaggerated ideas of liberty. To +them it was a beautiful vision, a land of sunshine, rest and glorious +promise. They flocked to Washington, and since their extravagant hopes +were not realized, it was but natural that many of them should bitterly +feel their disappointment. The colored people are wedded to +associations, and when you destroy these you destroy half of the +happiness of their lives. They make a home, and are so fond of it that +they prefer it, squalid though it be, to the comparative ease and luxury +of a shifting, roaming life. Well, the emancipated slaves, in coming +North, left old associations behind them, and the love for the past was +so strong that they could not find much beauty in the new life so +suddenly opened to them. Thousands of the disappointed, huddled together +in camps, fretted and pined like children for the "good old times." In +visiting them in the interests of the Relief Society of which I was +president, they would crowd around me with pitiful stories of distress. +Often I heard them declare that they would rather go back to slavery in +the South, and be with their old masters, than to enjoy the freedom of +the North. I believe they were sincere in these declarations, because +dependence had become a part of their second nature, and independence +brought with it the cares and vexations of poverty. + +I was very much amused one day at the grave complaints of a good old, +simple-minded woman, fresh from a life of servitude. She had never +ventured beyond a plantation until coming North. The change was too +radical for her, and she could not exactly understand it. She thought, +as many others thought, that Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln were the government, +and that the President and his wife had nothing to do but to supply the +extravagant wants of every one that applied to them. The wants of this +old woman, however, were not very extravagant. + +"Why, Missus Keckley," said she to me one day, "I is been here eight +months, and Missus Lingom an't even give me one shife. Bliss God, +childen, if I had ar know dat de Government, and Mister and Missus +Government, was going to do dat ar way, I neber would 'ave comed here in +God's wurld. My old missus us't gib me two shifes eber year." + +I could not restrain a laugh at the grave manner in which this good old +woman entered her protest. Her idea of freedom was two or more old +shifts every year. Northern readers may not fully recognize the pith of +the joke. On the Southern plantation, the mistress, according to +established custom, every year made a present of certain under-garments +to her slaves, which articles were always anxiously looked forward to, +and thankfully received. The old woman had been in the habit of +receiving annually two shifts from her mistress, and she thought the +wife of the President of the United States very mean for overlooking +this established custom of the plantation. + +While some of the emancipated blacks pined for the old associations of +slavery, and refused to help themselves, others went to work with +commendable energy, and planned with remarkable forethought. They built +themselves cabins, and each family cultivated for itself a small patch +of ground. The colored people are fond of domestic life, and with them +domestication means happy children, a fat pig, a dozen or more chickens, +and a garden. Whoever visits the Freedmen's Village now in the vicinity +of Washington will discover all of these evidences of prosperity and +happiness. The schools are objects of much interest. Good teachers, +white and colored, are employed, and whole brigades of bright-eyed dusky +children are there taught the common branches of education. These +children are studious, and the teachers inform me that their advancement +is rapid. I number among my personal friends twelve colored girls +employed as teachers in the schools at Washington. The Colored Mission +Sabbath School, established through the influence of Gen. Brown at the +Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church, is always an object of great +interest to the residents of the Capital, as well as to the hundreds of +strangers visiting the city. + +In 1864 the receptions again commenced at the White House. For the first +two years of Mr. Lincoln's administration, the President selected a lady +to join in the promenade with him, which left Mrs. Lincoln free to +choose an escort from among the distinguished gentlemen that always +surrounded her on such occasions. This custom at last was discontinued +by Mrs. Lincoln. + +"Lizabeth!"--I was sewing in her room, and she was seated in a +comfortable arm-chair--"Lizabeth, I have been thinking over a little +matter. As you are well aware, the President, at every reception, +selects a lady to lead the promenade with him. Now it occurs to me that +this custom is an absurd one. On such occasions our guests recognize the +position of the President as first of all; consequently, he takes the +lead in everything; well, now, if they recognize his position they +should also recognize mine. I am his wife, and should lead with him. And +yet he offers his arm to any other lady in the room, making her first +with him and placing me second. The custom is an absurd one, and I mean +to abolish it. The dignity that I owe to my position, as Mrs. President, +demands that I should not hesitate any longer to act." + +Mrs. Lincoln kept her word. Ever after this, she either led the +promenade with the President, or the President walked alone or with a +gentleman. The change was much remarked, but the reason why it was made, +I believe, was never generally known. + +In 1864 much doubt existed in regard to the re-election of Mr. Lincoln, +and the White House was besieged by all grades of politicians. Mrs. +Lincoln was often blamed for having a certain class of men around her. + +"I have an object in view, Lizabeth," she said to me in reference to +this matter. "In a political canvass it is policy to cultivate every +element of strength. These men have influence, and we require influence +to re-elect Mr. Lincoln. I will be clever to them until after the +election, and then, if we remain at the White House, I will drop every +one of them, and let them know very plainly that I only made tools of +them. They are an unprincipled set, and I don't mind a little +double-dealing with them." + +"Does Mr. Lincoln know what your purpose is?" I asked. + +"God! no; he would never sanction such a proceeding, so I keep him in +the dark, and will tell him of it when all is over. He is too honest to +take the proper care of his own interests, so I feel it to be my duty to +electioneer for him." + +Mr. Lincoln, as every one knows, was far from handsome. He was not +admired for his graceful figure and finely moulded face, but for the +nobility of his soul and the greatness of his heart. His wife was +different. He was wholly unselfish in every respect, and I believe that +he loved the mother of his children very tenderly. He asked nothing but +affection from her, but did not always receive it. When in one of her +wayward impulsive moods, she was apt to say and do things that wounded +him deeply. If he had not loved her, she would have been powerless to +cloud his thoughtful face, or gild it with a ray of sunshine as she +pleased. We are indifferent to those we do not love, and certainly the +President was not indifferent to his wife. She often wounded him in +unguarded moments, but calm reflection never failed to bring regret. + +Mrs. Lincoln was extremely anxious that her husband should be re-elected +President of the United States. In endeavoring to make a display +becoming her exalted position, she had to incur many expenses. Mr. +Lincoln's salary was inadequate to meet them, and she was forced to run +in debt, hoping that good fortune would favor her, and enable her to +extricate herself from an embarrassing situation. She bought the most +expensive goods on credit, and in the summer of 1864 enormous unpaid +bills stared her in the face. + +"What do you think about the election, Lizabeth?" she said to me one +morning. + +"I think that Mr. Lincoln will remain in the White House four years +longer," I replied, looking up from my work. + +"What makes you think so? Somehow I have learned to fear that he will be +defeated." + +"Because he has been tried, and has proved faithful to the best +interests of the country. The people of the North recognize in him an +honest man, and they are willing to confide in him, at least until the +war has been brought to a close. The Southern people made his election a +pretext for rebellion, and now to replace him by some one else, after +years of sanguinary war, would look too much like a surrender of the +North. So, Mr. Lincoln is certain to be re-elected. He represents a +principle, and to maintain this principle the loyal people of the loyal +States will vote for him, even if he had no merits to commend him." + +"Your view is a plausible one, Lizabeth, and your confidence gives me +new hope. If he should be defeated, I do not know what would become of +us all. To me, to him, there is more at stake in this election than he +dreams of." + +"What can you mean, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not comprehend." + +"Simply this. I have contracted large debts, of which he knows nothing, +and which he will be unable to pay if he is defeated." + +"What are your debts, Mrs. Lincoln?" + +"They consist chiefly of store bills. I owe altogether about +twenty-seven thousand dollars; the principal portion at Stewart's, in +New York. You understand, Lizabeth, that Mr. Lincoln has but little idea +of the expense of a woman's wardrobe. He glances at my rich dresses, and +is happy in the belief that the few hundred dollars that I obtain from +him supply all my wants. I must dress in costly materials. The people +scrutinize every article that I wear with critical curiosity. The very +fact of having grown up in the West, subjects me to more searching +observation. To keep up appearances, I must have money--more than Mr. +Lincoln can spare for me. He is too honest to make a penny outside of +his salary; consequently I had, and still have, no alternative but to +run in debt." + +"And Mr. Lincoln does not even suspect how much you owe?" + +"God, no!"--this was a favorite expression of hers--"and I would not +have him suspect. If he knew that his wife was involved to the extent +that she is, the knowledge would drive him mad. He is so sincere and +straightforward himself, that he is shocked by the duplicity of others. +He does not know a thing about any debts and I value his happiness, not +to speak of my own, too much to allow him to know anything. This is +what troubles me so much. If he is re-elected, I can keep him in +ignorance of my affairs; but if he is defeated, then the bills will be +sent in, and he will know all;" and something like a hysterical sob +escaped her. + +Mrs. Lincoln sometimes feared that the politicians would get hold of the +particulars of her debts, and use them in the Presidential campaign +against her husband; and when this thought occurred to her, she was +almost crazy with anxiety and fear. + +When in one of these excited moods, she would fiercely exclaim-- + +"The Republican politicians must pay my debts. Hundreds of them are +getting immensely rich off the patronage of my husband, and it is but +fair that they should help me out of my embarrassment. I will make a +demand of them, and when I tell them the facts they cannot refuse to +advance whatever money I require." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE SECOND INAUGURATION + + +Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments one day towards the close of the +summer of 1864, to consult me in relation to a dress. And here let me +remark, I never approved of ladies, attached to the Presidential +household, coming to my rooms. I always thought that it would be more +consistent with their dignity to send for me, and let me come to them, +instead of their coming to me. I may have peculiar notions about some +things, and this may be regarded as one of them. No matter, I have +recorded my opinion. I cannot forget the associations of my early life. +Well, Mrs. Lincoln came to my rooms, and, as usual, she had much to say +about the Presidential election. + +After some conversation, she asked: "Lizzie, where do you think I will +be this time next summer?" + +"Why, in the White House, of course." + +"I cannot believe so. I have no hope of the re-election of Mr. Lincoln. +The canvass is a heated one, the people begin to murmur at the war, and +every vile charge is brought against my husband." + +"No matter," I replied, "Mr. Lincoln will be re-elected. I am so +confident of it, that I am tempted to ask a favor of you." + +"A favor! Well, if we remain in the White House I shall be able to do +you many favors. What is the special favor?" + +"Simply this, Mrs. Lincoln--I should like for you to make me a present +of the right-hand glove that the President wears at the first public +reception after his second inaugural." + +"You shall have it in welcome. It will be so filthy when he pulls it +off, I shall be tempted to take the tongs and put it in the fire. I +cannot imagine, Lizabeth, what you want with such a glove." + +"I shall cherish it as a precious memento of the second inauguration of +the man who has done so much for my race. He has been a Jehovah to my +people--has lifted them out of bondage, and directed their footsteps +from darkness into light. I shall keep the glove, and hand it down to +posterity." + +"You have some strange ideas, Lizabeth. Never mind, you shall have the +glove; that is, if Mr. Lincoln continues President after the 4th of +March next." + +I held Mrs. Lincoln to her promise. That glove is now in my possession, +bearing the marks of the thousands of hands that grasped the honest hand +of Mr. Lincoln on that eventful night. Alas! it has become a prouder, +sadder memento than I ever dreamed--prior to making the request--it +would be. + +In due time the election came off, and all of my predictions were +verified. The loyal States decided that Mr. Lincoln should continue at +the nation's helm. Autumn faded, winter dragged slowly by, and still the +country resounded with the clash of arms. The South was suffering, yet +suffering was borne with heroic determination, and the army continued to +present a bold, defiant front. With the first early breath of spring, +thousands of people gathered in Washington to witness the second +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. It +was a stirring day in the National Capital, and one that will never fade +from the memory of those who witnessed the imposing ceremonies. The +morning was dark and gloomy; clouds hung like a pall in the sky, as if +portending some great disaster. But when the President stepped forward +to receive the oath of office, the clouds parted, and a ray of sunshine +streamed from the heavens to fall upon and gild his face. It is also +said that a brilliant star was seen at noon-day. It was the noon-day of +life with Mr. Lincoln, and the star, as viewed in the light of +subsequent events, was emblematic of a summons from on high. This was +Saturday, and on Monday evening I went to the White House to dress Mrs. +Lincoln for the first grand levee. While arranging Mrs. L.'s hair, the +President came in. It was the first time I had seen him since the +inauguration, and I went up to him, proffering my hand with words of +congratulation. + +He grasped my outstretched hand warmly, and held it while he spoke: +"Thank you. Well, Madam Elizabeth"--he always called me Madam +Elizabeth--"I don't know whether I should feel thankful or not. The +position brings with it many trials. We do not know what we are destined +to pass through. But God will be with us all. I put my trust in God." He +dropped my hand, and with solemn face walked across the room and took +his seat on the sofa. Prior to this I had congratulated Mrs. Lincoln, +and she had answered with a sigh, "Thank you, Elizabeth; but now that we +have won the position, I almost wish it were otherwise. Poor Mr. Lincoln +is looking so broken-hearted, so completely worn out, I fear he will not +get through the next four years." Was it a presentiment that made her +take a sad view of the future? News from the front was never more +cheering. On every side the Confederates were losing ground, and the +lines of blue were advancing in triumph. As I would look out my window +almost every day, I could see the artillery going past on its way to the +open space of ground, to fire a salute in honor of some new victory. +From every point came glorious news of the success of the soldiers that +fought for the Union. And yet, in their private chamber, away from the +curious eyes of the world, the President and his wife wore sad, anxious +faces. + +I finished dressing Mrs. Lincoln, and she took the President's arm and +went below. It was one of the largest receptions ever held in +Washington. Thousands crowded the halls and rooms of the White House, +eager to shake Mr. Lincoln by his hand, and receive a gracious smile +from his wife. The jam was terrible, and the enthusiasm great. The +President's hand was well shaken, and the next day, on visiting Mrs. +Lincoln, I received the soiled glove that Mr. Lincoln had worn on his +right hand that night. + +Many colored people were in Washington, and large numbers had desired to +attend the levee, but orders were issued not to admit them. A gentleman, +a member of Congress, on his way to the White House, recognized Mr. +Frederick Douglass, the eloquent colored orator, on the outskirts of the +crowd. + +"How do you do, Mr. Douglass? A fearful jam to-night. You are going in, +of course?" + +"No--that is, no to your last question." + +"Not going in to shake the President by the hand! Why, pray?" + +"The best reason in the world. Strict orders have been issued not to +admit people of color." + +"It is a shame, Mr. Douglass, that you should thus be placed under ban. +Never mind; wait here, and I will see what can be done." + +The gentleman entered the White House, and working his way to the +President, asked permission to introduce Mr. Douglass to him. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Lincoln. "Bring Mr. Douglass in, by all means. I +shall be glad to meet him." + +The gentleman returned, and soon Mr. Douglass stood face to face with +the President. Mr. Lincoln pressed his hand warmly, saying: "Mr. +Douglass, I am glad to meet you. I have long admired your course, and I +value your opinions highly." + +Mr. Douglass was very proud of the manner in which Mr. Lincoln received +him. On leaving the White House he came to a friend's house where a +reception was being held, and he related the incident with great +pleasure to myself and others. + +On the Monday following the reception at the White House, everybody was +busy preparing for the grand inaugural ball to come off that night. I +was in Mrs. Lincoln's room the greater portion of the day. While +dressing her that night, the President came in, and I remarked to him +how much Mr. Douglass had been pleased on the night he was presented to +Mr. Lincoln. Mrs. L. at once turned to her husband with the inquiry, +"Father, why was not Mr. Douglass introduced to me?" + +"I do not know. I thought he was presented." + +"But he was not." + +"It must have been an oversight then, mother; I am sorry you did not +meet him." + +I finished dressing her for the ball, and accompanied her to the door. +She was dressed magnificently, and entered the ball-room leaning on the +arm of Senator Sumner, a gentleman that she very much admired. Mr. +Lincoln walked into the ball-room accompanied by two gentlemen. This +ball closed the season. It was the last time that the President and his +wife ever appeared in public. + +Some days after, Mrs. Lincoln, with a party of friends, went to City +Point on a visit. + +Mrs. Lincoln had returned to Washington prior to the 2d of April. On +Monday, April 3d, Mrs. Secretary Harlan came into my room with material +for a dress. While conversing with her, I saw artillery pass the window; +and as it was on its way to fire a salute, I inferred that good news had +been received at the War Department. My reception-room was on one side +of the street, and my work-room on the other side. Inquiring the cause +of the demonstration, we were told that Richmond had fallen. Mrs. Harlan +took one of my hands in each of her own, and we rejoiced together. I ran +across to my work-room, and on entering it, discovered that the girls in +my employ also had heard the good news. They were particularly elated, +as it was reported that the rebel capital had surrendered to colored +troops. I had promised my employees a holiday when Richmond should fall; +and now that Richmond had fallen, they reminded me of my promise. + +I recrossed to my reception-room, and Mrs. Harlan told me that the good +news was enough for her--she could afford to wait for her dress, and to +give the girls a holiday and a treat, by all means. She returned to her +house, and I joined my girls in the joy of the long-promised holiday. We +wandered about the streets of the city with happy faces, and hearts +overflowing with joy. The clerks in the various departments also enjoyed +a holiday, and they improved it by getting gloriously fuddled. Towards +evening I saw S., and many other usually clear-headed men, in the +street, in a confused, uncertain state of mind. + +Mrs. Lincoln had invited me to accompany her to City Point. I went to +the White House, and told her that if she intended to return, I would +regard it as a privilege to go with her, as City Point was near +Petersburg, my old home. Mrs. L. said she designed returning, and would +be delighted to take me with her; so it was arranged that I should +accompany her. + +A few days after we were on board the steamer, _en route_ for City +Point. Mrs. Lincoln was joined by Mrs. Secretary Harlan and daughter, +Senator Sumner, and several other gentlemen. + +Prior to this, Mr. Lincoln had started for City Point, and before we +reached our destination he had visited Richmond, Petersburg, and other +points. We arrived on Friday, and Mrs. Lincoln was much disappointed +when she learned that the President had visited the late Confederate +capital, as she had greatly desired to be with him when he entered the +conquered stronghold. It was immediately arranged that the entire party +on board the River Queen should visit Richmond, and other points, with +the President. The next morning, after the arrangement was perfected, we +were steaming up James River--the river that so long had been +impassable, even to our gunboats. The air was balmy, and the banks of +the river were beautiful, and fragrant with the first sweet blossoms of +spring. For hours I stood on deck, breathing the pure air, and viewing +the landscape on either side of the majestically flowing river. Here +stretched fair fields, emblematic of peace--and here deserted camps and +frowning forts, speaking of the stern vicissitudes of war. Alas! how +many changes had taken place since my eye had wandered over the classic +fields of dear old Virginia! A birthplace is always dear, no matter +under what circumstances you were born, since it revives in memory the +golden hours of childhood, free from philosophy, and the warm kiss of a +mother. I wondered if I should catch a glimpse of a familiar face; I +wondered what had become of those I once knew; had they fallen in +battle, been scattered by the relentless tide of war, or were they still +living as they lived when last I saw them? I wondered, now that Richmond +had fallen, and Virginia been restored to the clustering stars of the +Union, if the people would come together in the bonds of peace; and as I +gazed and wondered, the River Queen rapidly carried us to our +destination. + +The Presidential party were all curiosity on entering Richmond. They +drove about the streets of the city, and examined every object of +interest. The Capitol presented a desolate appearance--desks broken, and +papers scattered promiscuously in the hurried flight of the Confederate +Congress. I picked up a number of papers, and, by curious coincidence, +the resolution prohibiting all free colored people from entering the +State of Virginia. In the Senate chamber I sat in the chair that +Jefferson Davis sometimes occupied; also in the chair of the +Vice-President, Alexander H. Stephens. We paid a visit to the mansion +occupied by Mr. Davis and family during the war, and the ladies who +were in charge of it scowled darkly upon our party as we passed through +and inspected the different rooms. After a delightful visit we returned +to City Point. + +That night, in the cabin of the River Queen, smiling faces gathered +around the dinner-table. One of the guests was a young officer attached +to the Sanitary Commission. He was seated near Mrs. Lincoln, and, by way +of pleasantry, remarked: "Mrs. Lincoln, you should have seen the +President the other day, on his triumphal entry into Richmond. He was +the cynosure of all eyes. The ladies kissed their hands to him, and +greeted him with the waving of handkerchiefs. He is quite a hero when +surrounded by pretty young ladies." + +The young officer suddenly paused with a look of embarrassment. Mrs. +Lincoln turned to him with flashing eyes, with the remark that his +familiarity was offensive to her. Quite a scene followed, and I do not +think that the Captain who incurred Mrs. Lincoln's displeasure will ever +forget that memorable evening in the cabin of the River Queen, at City +Point. + +Saturday morning the whole party decided to visit Petersburg, and I was +only too eager to accompany them. + +When we arrived at the city, numbers crowded around the train, and a +little ragged negro boy ventured timidly into the car occupied by Mr. +Lincoln and immediate friends, and in replying to numerous questions, +used the word "tote." + +"Tote," remarked Mr. Lincoln; "what do you mean by tote?" + +"Why, massa, to tote um on your back." + +"Very definite, my son; I presume when you tote a thing, you carry it. +By the way, Sumner," turning to the Senator, "what is the origin of +tote?" + +"Its origin is said to be African. The Latin word _totum_, from _totus_, +means all--an entire body--the whole." + +"But my young friend here did not mean an entire body, or anything of +the kind, when he said he would tote my things for me," interrupted the +President. + +"Very true," continued the Senator. "He used the word tote in the +African sense, to carry, to bear. Tote in this sense is defined in our +standard dictionaries as a colloquial word of the Southern States, used +especially by the negroes." + +"Then you regard the word as a good one?" + +"Not elegant, certainly. For myself, I should prefer a better word; but +since it has been established by usage, I cannot refuse to recognize +it." + +Thus the conversation proceeded in pleasant style. + +Getting out of the car, the President and those with him went to visit +the forts and other scenes, while I wandered off by myself in search of +those whom I had known in other days. War, grim-visaged war, I soon +discovered had brought many changes to the city so well known to me in +the days of my youth. I found a number of old friends, but the greater +portion of the population were strange to me. The scenes suggested +painful memories, and I was not sorry to turn my back again upon the +city. A large, peculiarly shaped oak tree, I well remember, attracted +the particular attention of the President; it grew upon the outskirts of +Petersburg, and as he had discovered it on his first visit, a few days +previous to the second, he insisted that the party should go with him to +take a look at the isolated and magnificent specimen of the stately +grandeur of the forest. Every member of the party was only too willing +to accede to the President's request, and the visit to the oak was made, +and much enjoyed. + +On our return to City Point from Petersburg the train moved slowly, and +the President, observing a terrapin basking in the warm sunshine on the +wayside, had the conductor stop the train, and one of the brakemen bring +the terrapin in to him. The movements of the ungainly little animal +seemed to delight him, and he amused himself with it until we reached +James River, where our steamer lay. Tad stood near, and joined in the +happy laugh with his father. + +For a week the River Queen remained in James River, anchored the greater +portion of the time at City Point, and a pleasant and memorable week was +it to all on board. During the whole of this time a yacht lay in the +stream about a quarter of a mile distant, and its peculiar movements +attracted the attention of all on board. General Grant and Mrs. Grant +were on our steamer several times, and many distinguished officers of +the army also were entertained by the President and his party. + +Mr. Lincoln, when not off on an excursion of any kind, lounged about +the boat, talking familiarly with every one that approached him. + +The day before we started on our journey back to Washington, Mr. Lincoln +was engaged in reviewing the troops in camp. He returned to the boat in +the evening, with a tired, weary look. + +"Mother," he said to his wife, "I have shaken so many hands to-day that +my arms ache tonight. I almost wish that I could go to bed now." + +As the twilight shadows deepened the lamps were lighted, and the boat +was brilliantly illuminated; as it lay in the river, decked with +many-colored lights, it looked like an enchanted floating palace. A +military band was on board, and as the hours lengthened into night it +discoursed sweet music. Many officers came on board to say good-by, and +the scene was a brilliant one indeed. About 10 o'clock Mr. Lincoln was +called upon to make a speech. Rising to his feet, he said: + +"You must excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I am too tired to speak +to-night. On next Tuesday night I make a speech in Washington, at which +time you will learn all I have to say. And now, by way of parting from +the brave soldiers of our gallant army, I call upon the band to play +Dixie. It has always been a favorite of mine, and since we have captured +it, we have a perfect right to enjoy it." On taking his seat the band at +once struck up with Dixie, that sweet, inspiring air; and when the music +died away, there were clapping of hands and other manifestations of +applause. + +At 11 o'clock the last good-by was spoken, the lights were taken down, +the River Queen rounded out into the water and we were on our way back +to Washington. We arrived at the Capital at 6 o'clock on Sunday evening, +where the party separated, each going to his and her own home. This was +one of the most delightful trips of my life, and I always revert to it +with feelings of genuine pleasure. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN + + +I had never heard Mr. Lincoln make a public speech, and, knowing the man +so well, was very anxious to hear him. On the morning of the Tuesday +after our return from City Point, Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments, +and before she drove away I asked permission to come to the White House +that night and hear Mr. Lincoln speak. + +"Certainly, Lizabeth; if you take any interest in political speeches, +come and listen in welcome." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln. May I trespass further on your kindness by +asking permission to bring a friend with me?" + +"Yes, bring your friend also. By the way, come in time to dress me +before the speaking commences." + +"I will be in time. You may rely upon that. Good morning," I added, as +she swept from my room, and, passing out into the street, entered her +carriage and drove away. + +About 7 o'clock that evening I entered the White House. As I went +up-stairs I glanced into Mr. Lincoln's room through the half-open door, +and seated by a desk was the President, looking over his notes and +muttering to himself. His face was thoughtful, his manner abstracted, +and I knew, as I paused a moment to watch him, that he was rehearsing +the part that he was to play in the great drama soon to commence. + +Proceeding to Mrs. Lincoln's apartment, I worked with busy fingers, and +in a short time her toilette was completed. + +Great crowds began to gather in front of the White House, and loud calls +were made for the President. The band stopped playing, and as he +advanced to the centre window over the door to make his address, I +looked out, and never saw such a mass of heads before. It was like a +black, gently swelling sea. The swaying motion of the crowd, in the dim +uncertain light, was like the rising and falling of billows--like the +ebb and flow of the tide upon the stranded shore of the ocean. Close to +the house the faces were plainly discernible, but they faded into mere +ghostly outlines on the outskirts of the assembly; and what added to the +weird, spectral beauty of the scene, was the confused hum of voices that +rose above the sea of forms, sounding like the subdued, sullen roar of +an ocean storm, or the wind soughing through the dark lonely forest. It +was a grand and imposing scene, and when the President, with pale face +and his soul flashing through his eyes, advanced to speak, he looked +more like a demigod than a man crowned with the fleeting days of +mortality. + +The moment the President appeared at the window he was greeted with a +storm of applause, and voices re-echoed the cry, "A light! a light!" + +A lamp was brought, and little Tad at once rushed to his father's side, +exclaiming: + +"Let me hold the light, Papa! let me hold the light!" + +Mrs. Lincoln directed that the wish of her son be gratified, and the +lamp was transferred to his hands. The father and son standing there in +the presence of thousands of free citizens, the one lost in a chain of +eloquent ideas, the other looking up into the speaking face with a +proud, manly look, formed a beautiful and striking tableau. + +There were a number of distinguished gentlemen, as well as ladies, in +the room, nearly all of whom remarked the picture. + +I stood a short distance from Mr. Lincoln, and as the light from the +lamp fell full upon him, making him stand out boldly in the darkness, a +sudden thought struck me, and I whispered to the friend at my side: + +"What an easy matter would it be to kill the President, as he stands +there! He could be shot down from the crowd, and no one be able to tell +who fired the shot." + +I do not know what put such an idea into my head, unless it was the +sudden remembrance of the many warnings that Mr. Lincoln had received. + +The next day, I made mention to Mrs. Lincoln of the idea that had +impressed me so strangely the night before, and she replied with a sigh: + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Lincoln's life is always exposed. Ah, no one knows what +it is to live in constant dread of some fearful tragedy. The President +has been warned so often, that I tremble for him on every public +occasion. I have a presentiment that he will meet with a sudden and +violent end. I pray God to protect my beloved husband from the hands of +the assassin." + +Mr. Lincoln was fond of pets. He had two goats that knew the sound of +his voice, and when he called them they would come bounding to his side. +In the warm bright days, he and Tad would sometimes play in the yard +with these goats, for an hour at a time. One Saturday afternoon I went +to the White House to dress Mrs. Lincoln. I had nearly completed my task +when the President came in. It was a bright day, and walking to the +window, he looked down into the yard, smiled, and, turning to me, asked: + +"Madam Elizabeth, you are fond of pets, are you not?" + +"O yes, sir," I answered. + +"Well, come here and look at my two goats. I believe they are the +kindest and best goats in the world. See how they sniff the clear air, +and skip and play in the sunshine. Whew! what a jump," he exclaimed as +one of the goats made a lofty spring. "Madam Elizabeth, did you ever +before see such an active goat?" Musing a moment, he continued: "He +feeds on my bounty, and jumps with joy. Do you think we could call him a +bounty-jumper? But I flatter the bounty-jumper. My goat is far above +him. I would rather wear his horns and hairy coat through life, than +demean myself to the level of the man who plunders the national treasury +in the name of patriotism. The man who enlists into the service for a +consideration, and deserts the moment he receives his money but to +repeat the play, is bad enough; but the men who manipulate the grand +machine and who simply make the bounty-jumper their agent in an +outrageous fraud are far worse. They are beneath the worms that crawl in +the dark hidden places of earth." + +His lips curled with haughty scorn, and a cloud was gathering on his +brow. Only a moment the shadow rested on his face. Just then both goats +looked up at the window and shook their heads as if they would say "How +d'ye do, old friend?" + +"See, Madam Elizabeth," exclaimed the President in a tone of enthusiasm, +"my pets recognize me. How earnestly they look! There they go again; +what jolly fun!" and he laughed outright as the goats bounded swiftly to +the other side of the yard. Just then Mrs. Lincoln called out, "Come, +Lizabeth; if I get ready to go down this evening I must finish dressing +myself, or you must stop staring at those silly goats." + +Mrs. Lincoln was not fond of pets, and she could not understand how Mr. +Lincoln could take so much delight in his goats. After Willie's death, +she could not bear the sight of anything he loved, not even a flower. +Costly bouquets were presented to her, but she turned from them with a +shudder, and either placed them in a room where she could not see them, +or threw them out of the window. She gave all of Willie's +toys--everything connected with him--away, as she said she could not +look upon them without thinking of her poor dead boy, and to think of +him, in his white shroud and cold grave, was maddening. I never in my +life saw a more peculiarly constituted woman. Search the world over, and +you will not find her counterpart. After Mr. Lincoln's death, the goats +that he loved so well were given away--I believe to Mrs. Lee, _née_ Miss +Blair, one of the few ladies with whom Mrs. Lincoln was on intimate +terms in Washington. + +During my residence in the Capital I made my home with Mr. and Mrs. +Walker Lewis, people of my own race, and friends in the truest sense of +the word. + +The days passed without any incident of particular note disturbing the +current of life. On Friday morning, April 14th--alas! what American does +not remember the day--I saw Mrs. Lincoln but for a moment. She told me +that she was to attend the theatre that night with the President, but I +was not summoned to assist her in making her toilette. Sherman had swept +from the northern border of Georgia through the heart of the Confederacy +down to the sea, striking the death-blow to the rebellion. Grant had +pursued General Lee beyond Richmond, and the army of Virginia, that had +made such stubborn resistance, was crumbling to pieces. Fort Sumter had +fallen;--the stronghold first wrenched from the Union; and which had +braved the fury of Federal guns for so many years, was restored to the +Union; the end of the war was near at hand, and the great pulse of the +loyal North thrilled with joy. The dark war-cloud was fading, and a +white-robed angel seemed to hover in the sky, whispering "Peace--peace +on earth, good-will toward men!" Sons, brothers, fathers, friends, +sweethearts were coming home. Soon the white tents would be folded, the +volunteer army be disbanded, and tranquillity again reign. Happy, happy +day!--happy at least to those who fought under the banner of the Union. +There was great rejoicing throughout the North. From the Atlantic to the +Pacific, flags were gayly thrown to the breeze, and at night every city +blazed with its tens of thousand lights. But scarcely had the fireworks +ceased to play, and the lights been taken down from the windows, when +the lightning flashed the most appalling news over the magnetic wires. +"The President has been murdered!" spoke the swift-winged messenger, and +the loud huzza died upon the lips. A nation suddenly paused in the midst +of festivity, and stood paralyzed with horror--transfixed with awe. + +Oh, memorable day! Oh, memorable night! Never before was joy so +violently contrasted with sorrow. + +At 11 o'clock at night I was awakened by an old friend and neighbor, +Miss M. Brown, with the startling intelligence that the entire Cabinet +had been assassinated, and Mr. Lincoln shot, but not mortally wounded. +When I heard the words I felt as if the blood had been frozen in my +veins, and that my lungs must collapse for the want of air. Mr. Lincoln +shot! the Cabinet assassinated! What could it mean? The streets were +alive with wondering, awe-stricken people. Rumors flew thick and fast, +and the wildest reports came with every new arrival. The words were +repeated with blanched cheeks and quivering lips. I waked Mr. and Mrs. +Lewis, and told them that the President was shot, and that I must go to +the White House. I could not remain in a state of uncertainty. I felt +that the house would not hold me. They tried to quiet me, but gentle +words could not calm the wild tempest. They quickly dressed themselves, +and we sallied out into the street to drift with the excited throng. We +walked rapidly towards the White House, and on our way passed the +residence of Secretary Seward, which was surrounded by armed soldiers, +keeping back all intruders with the point of the bayonet. We hurried on, +and as we approached the White House, saw that it too was surrounded +with soldiers. Every entrance was strongly guarded, and no one was +permitted to pass. The guard at the gate told us that Mr. Lincoln had +not been brought home, but refused to give any other information. More +excited than ever, we wandered down the street. Grief and anxiety were +making me weak, and as we joined the outskirts of a large crowd, I began +to feel as meek and humble as a penitent child. A gray-haired old man +was passing. I caught a glimpse of his face, and it seemed so full of +kindness and sorrow that I gently touched his arm, and imploringly +asked: + +"Will you please, sir, to tell me whether Mr. Lincoln is dead or not?" + +"Not dead," he replied, "but dying. God help us!" and with a heavy step +he passed on. + +"Not dead, but dying! then indeed God help us!" + +We learned that the President was mortally wounded--that he had been +shot down in his box at the theatre, and that he was not expected to +live till morning; when we returned home with heavy hearts. I could not +sleep. I wanted to go to Mrs. Lincoln, as I pictured her wild with +grief; but then I did not know where to find her, and I must wait till +morning. Never did the hours drag so slowly. Every moment seemed an age, +and I could do nothing but walk about and hold my arms in mental agony. + +Morning came at last, and a sad morning was it. The flags that floated +so gayly yesterday now were draped in black, and hung in silent folds at +half-mast. The President was dead, and a nation was mourning for him. +Every house was draped in black, and every face wore a solemn look. +People spoke in subdued tones, and glided whisperingly, wonderingly, +silently about the streets. + +About eleven o'clock on Saturday morning a carriage drove up to the +door, and a messenger asked for "Elizabeth Keckley." + +"Who wants her?" I asked. + +"I come from Mrs. Lincoln. If you are Mrs. Keckley, come with me +immediately to the White House." + +I hastily put on my shawl and bonnet, and was driven at a rapid rate to +the White House. Everything about the building was sad and solemn. I was +quickly shown to Mrs. Lincoln's room, and on entering, saw Mrs. L. +tossing uneasily about upon a bed. The room was darkened, and the only +person in it besides the widow of the President was Mrs. Secretary +Welles, who had spent the night with her. Bowing to Mrs. Welles, I went +to the bedside. + +"Why did you not come to me last night, Elizabeth--I sent for you?" Mrs. +Lincoln asked in a low whisper. + +"I did try to come to you, but I could not find you," I answered, as I +laid my hand upon her hot brow. + +I afterwards learned, that when she had partially recovered from the +first shock of the terrible tragedy in the theatre, Mrs. Welles asked: + +"Is there no one, Mrs. Lincoln, that you desire to have with you in this +terrible affliction?" + +"Yes, send for Elizabeth Keckley. I want her just as soon as she can be +brought here." + +Three messengers, it appears, were successively despatched for me, but +all of them mistook the number and failed to find me. + +Shortly after entering the room on Saturday morning, Mrs. Welles excused +herself, as she said she must go to her own family, and I was left alone +with Mrs. Lincoln. + +She was nearly exhausted with grief, and when she became a little quiet, +I asked and received permission to go into the Guests' Room, where the +body of the President lay in state. When I crossed the threshold of the +room, I could not help recalling the day on which I had seen little +Willie lying in his coffin where the body of his father now lay. I +remembered how the President had wept over the pale beautiful face of +his gifted boy, and now the President himself was dead. The last time I +saw him he spoke kindly to me, but alas! the lips would never move +again. The light had faded from his eyes, and when the light went out +the soul went with it. What a noble soul was his--noble in all the noble +attributes of God! Never did I enter the solemn chamber of death with +such palpitating heart and trembling footsteps as I entered it that day. +No common mortal had died. The Moses of my people had fallen in the hour +of his triumph. Fame had woven her choicest chaplet for his brow. Though +the brow was cold and pale in death, the chaplet should not fade, for +God had studded it with the glory of the eternal stars. + +When I entered the room, the members of the Cabinet and many +distinguished officers of the army were grouped around the body of their +fallen chief. They made room for me, and, approaching the body, I lifted +the white cloth from the white face of the man that I had worshipped as +an idol--looked upon as a demi-god. Notwithstanding the violence of the +death of the President, there was something beautiful as well as grandly +solemn in the expression of the placid face. There lurked the sweetness +and gentleness of childhood, and the stately grandeur of godlike +intellect. I gazed long at the face, and turned away with tears in my +eyes and a choking sensation in my throat. Ah! never was man so widely +mourned before. The whole world bowed their heads in grief when Abraham +Lincoln died. + +Returning to Mrs. Lincoln's room, I found her in a new paroxysm of +grief. Robert was bending over his mother with tender affection, and +little Tad was crouched at the foot of the bed with a world of agony in +his young face. I shall never forget the scene--the wails of a broken +heart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, the wild, +tempestuous outbursts of grief from the soul. I bathed Mrs. Lincoln's +head with cold water, and soothed the terrible tornado as best I could. +Tad's grief at his father's death was as great as the grief of his +mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy into silence. Sometimes +he would throw his arms around her neck, and exclaim, between his broken +sobs, "Don't cry so, Mamma! don't cry, or you will make me cry, too! You +will break my heart." + +Mrs. Lincoln could not bear to hear Tad cry, and when he would plead to +her not to break his heart, she would calm herself with a great effort, +and clasp her child in her arms. + +Every room in the White House was darkened, and every one spoke in +subdued tones, and moved about with muffled tread. The very atmosphere +breathed of the great sorrow which weighed heavily upon each heart. Mrs. +Lincoln never left her room, and while the body of her husband was being +borne in solemn state from the Atlantic to the broad prairies of the +West, she was weeping with her fatherless children in her private +chamber. She denied admittance to almost every one, and I was her only +companion, except her children, in the days of her great sorrow. + +There were many surmises as to who was implicated with J. Wilkes Booth +in the assassination of the President. A new messenger had accompanied +Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln to the theatre on that terrible Friday night. It +was the duty of this messenger to stand at the door of the box during +the performance, and thus guard the inmates from all intrusion. It +appears that the messenger was carried away by the play, and so +neglected his duty that Booth gained easy admission to the box. Mrs. +Lincoln firmly believed that this messenger was implicated in the +assassination plot. + +One night I was lying on a lounge near the bed occupied by Mrs. Lincoln. +One of the servants entering the room, Mrs. L. asked: + +"Who is on watch to-night?" + +"The new messenger," was the reply. + +"What! the man who attended us to the theatre on the night my dear, good +husband was murdered! He, I believe, is one of the murderers. Tell him +to come in to me." + +The messenger had overheard Mrs. Lincoln's words through the half-open +door, and when he came in he was trembling violently. + +She turned to him fiercely: "So you are on guard to-night--on guard in +the White House after helping to murder the President!" + +"Pardon me, but I did not help to murder the President. I could never +stoop to murder--much less to the murder of so good and great a man as +the President." + +"But it appears that you _did_ stoop to murder." + +"No, no! don't say that," he broke in. "God knows that I am innocent." + +"I don't believe you. Why were you not at the door to keep the assassin +out when he rushed into the box?" + +"I did wrong, I admit, and I have bitterly repented it, but I did not +help to kill the President. I did not believe that any one would try to +kill so good a man in such a public place, and the belief made me +careless. I was attracted by the play, and did not see the assassin +enter the box." + +"But you should have seen him. You had no business to be careless. I +shall always believe that you are guilty. Hush! I shan't hear another +word," she exclaimed, as the messenger essayed to reply. "Go now and +keep your watch," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand. With +mechanical step and white face the messenger left the room, and Mrs. +Lincoln fell back on her pillow, covered her face with her hands, and +commenced sobbing. + +Robert was very tender to his mother in the days of her sorrow. + +He suffered deeply, as his haggard face indicated, but he was ever manly +and collected when in the presence of his mother. Mrs. Lincoln was +extremely nervous, and she refused to have anybody about her but myself. +Many ladies called, but she received none of them. Had she been less +secluded in her grief, perhaps she would have had many warmer friends +to-day than she has. But far be it from me to harshly judge the sorrow +of any one. Could the ladies who called to condole with Mrs. Lincoln, +after the death of her husband, and who were denied admittance to her +chamber, have seen how completely prostrated she was with grief, they +would have learned to speak more kindly of her. Often at night, when Tad +would hear her sobbing, he would get up, and come to her bed in his +white sleeping-clothes: "Don't cry, Mamma; I cannot sleep if you cry! +Papa was good, and he has gone to heaven. He is happy there. He is with +God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma, or I will cry too." + +The closing appeal always proved the most effectual, as Mrs. Lincoln +could not bear to hear her child cry. + +Tad had been petted by his father, but petting could not spoil such a +manly nature as his. He seemed to realize that he was the son of a +President--to realize it in its loftiest and noblest sense. One morning, +while being dressed, he looked up at his nurse, and said: "Pa is dead. +I can hardly believe that I shall never see him again. I must learn to +take care of myself now." He looked thoughtful a moment, then added, +"Yes, Pa is dead, and I am only Tad Lincoln now, little Tad, like other +little boys. I am not a President's son now. I won't have many presents +any more. Well, I will try and be a good boy, and will hope to go some +day to Pa and brother Willie, in heaven." He was a brave, manly child, +and knew that influence had passed out of their hands with the death of +his father, and that his position in life was altered. He seemed to feel +that people petted him, and gave him presents, because they wanted to +please the President of the United States. From that period forward he +became more independent, and in a short time learned to dispense with +the services of a nurse. While in Chicago, I saw him get out his clothes +one Sunday morning and dress himself, and the change was such a great +one to me--for while in the White House, servants obeyed his every nod +and bid--that I could scarcely refrain from shedding tears. Had his +father lived, I knew it would have been different with his favorite boy. +Tad roomed with Robert, and he always took pride in pleasing his +brother. + +After the Committee had started West with the body of the President, +there was quite a breeze of excitement for a few days as to where the +remains should be interred. Secretary Stanton and others held frequent +conferences with Robert, Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lincoln's cousin, and Dr. Henry, +an old schoolmate and friend of Mr. Lincoln. The city authorities of +Springfield had purchased a beautiful plat of ground in a prosperous +portion of the city, and work was rapidly progressing on the tomb, when +Mrs. Lincoln made strenuous objection to the location. She declared that +she would stop the body in Chicago before it should be laid to rest in +the lot purchased for the purpose by the City of Springfield. She gave +as a reason, that it was her desire to be laid by the side of her +husband when she died, and that such would be out of the question in a +public place of the kind. As is well known, the difficulty was finally +settled by placing the remains of the President in the family vault at +Oak Ridge, a charming spot for the home of the dead. + +After the President's funeral Mrs. Lincoln rallied, and began to make +preparations to leave the White House. One day she suddenly exclaimed: +"God, Elizabeth, what a change! Did ever woman have to suffer so much +and experience so great a change? I had an ambition to be Mrs. +President; that ambition has been gratified, and now I must step down +from the pedestal. My poor husband! had he never been President, he +might be living to-day. Alas! all is over with me!" + +Folding her arms for a few moments, she rocked back and forth, then +commenced again, more vehemently than ever: "My God, Elizabeth, I can +never go back to Springfield! no, never, until I go in my shroud to be +laid by my dear husband's side, and may Heaven speed that day! I should +like to live for my sons, but life is so full of misery that I would +rather die." And then she would go off into a fit of hysterics. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MRS. LINCOLN LEAVES THE WHITE HOUSE + + +For five weeks Mrs. Lincoln was confined to her room. Packing afforded +quite a relief, as it so closely occupied us that we had not much time +for lamentation. + +Letters of condolence were received from all parts of the country, and +even from foreign potentates, but Mr. Andrew Johnson, the successor of +Mr. Lincoln, never called on the widow, or even so much as wrote a line +expressing sympathy for her grief and the loss of her husband. Robert +called on him one day to tell him that his mother would turn the White +House over to him in a few days, and he never even so much as inquired +after their welfare. Mrs. Lincoln firmly believes that Mr. Johnson was +concerned in the assassination plot. + +In packing, Mrs. Lincoln gave away everything intimately connected with +the President, as she said that she could not bear to be reminded of the +past. The articles were given to those who were regarded as the warmest +of Mr. Lincoln's admirers. All of the presents passed through my hands. +The dress that Mrs. Lincoln wore on the night of the assassination was +given to Mrs. Slade, the wife of an old and faithful messenger. The +cloak, stained with the President's blood, was given to me, as also was +the bonnet worn on the same memorable night. Afterwards I received the +comb and brush that Mr. Lincoln used during his residence at the White +House. With this same comb and brush I had often combed his head. When +almost ready to go down to a reception, he would turn to me with a +quizzical look: "Well, Madam Elizabeth, will you brush my bristles down +to-night?" + +"Yes, Mr. Lincoln." + +Then he would take his seat in an easy-chair, and sit quietly while I +arranged his hair. As may well be imagined, I was only too glad to +accept this comb and brush from the hands of Mrs. Lincoln. The cloak, +bonnet, comb, and brush, the glove worn at the first reception after the +second inaugural, and Mr. Lincoln's over-shoes, also given to me, I have +since donated for the benefit of Wilberforce University, a colored +college near Xenia, Ohio, destroyed by fire on the night that the +President was murdered. + +There was much surmise, when Mrs. Lincoln left the White House, what her +fifty or sixty boxes, not to count her score of trunks, could contain. +Had the government not been so liberal in furnishing the boxes, it is +possible that there would have been less demand for so much +transportation. The boxes were loosely packed, and many of them with +articles not worth carrying away. Mrs. Lincoln had a passion for +hoarding old things, believing, with Toodles, that they were "handy to +have about the house." + +The bonnets that she brought with her from Springfield, in addition to +every one purchased during her residence in Washington, were packed in +the boxes, and transported to Chicago. She remarked that she might find +use for the material some day, and it was prudent to look to the future. +I am sorry to say that Mrs. Lincoln's foresight in regard to the future +was only confined to cast-off clothing, as she owed, at the time of the +President's death, different store bills amounting to seventy thousand +dollars. Mr. Lincoln knew nothing of these bills, and the only happy +feature of his assassination was that he died in ignorance of them. Had +he known to what extent his wife was involved, the fact would have +embittered the only pleasant moments of his life. I disclose this secret +in regard to Mrs. Lincoln's debts, in order to explain why she should +subsequently have labored under pecuniary embarrassment. The children, +as well as herself, had received a vast number of presents during Mr. +Lincoln's administration, and these presents constituted a large item in +the contents of the boxes. The only article of furniture, so far as I +know, taken away from the White House by Mrs. Lincoln, was a little +dressing-stand used by the President. I recollect hearing him say one +day: + +"Mother, this little stand is so handy, and suits me so well, that I do +not know how I shall get along without it when we move away from here." +He was standing before a mirror, brushing his hair, when he made the +remark. + +"Well, father," Mrs. Lincoln replied, "if you like the stand so well, we +will take it with us when we go away." + +"Not for the world," he exclaimed; but she interrupted him: + +"I should like to know what difference it makes if we put a better one +in its place." + +"That alters the question. If you will put a stand in its place worth +twice as much as this one, and the Commissioner consents, then I have no +objection." + +Mrs. Lincoln remembered these words, and, with the consent of the +Commissioner, took the stand to Chicago with her for the benefit of +little Tad. Another stand, I must not forget to add, was put in its +place. + +It is charged that a great deal of furniture was lost from the White +House during Mr. Lincoln's occupation of it. Very true, and it can be +accounted for in this way: In some respects, to put the case very +plainly, Mrs. Lincoln was "penny wise and pound foolish." When she moved +into the White House, she discharged the Steward, whose business it was +to look after the affairs of the household. When the Steward was +dismissed, there was no one to superintend affairs, and the servants +carried away many pieces of furniture. In this manner the furniture +rapidly disappeared. + +Robert was frequently in the room where the boxes were being packed, and +he tried without avail to influence his mother to set fire to her vast +stores of old goods. "What are you going to do with that old dress, +mother?" he would ask. + +"Never mind, Robert, I will find use for it. You do not understand this +business." + +"And what is more, I hope I never may understand it. I wish to heaven +the car would take fire in which you place these boxes for +transportation to Chicago, and burn all of your old plunder up;" and +then, with an impatient gesture, he would turn on his heel and leave the +room. + +"Robert is so impetuous," his mother would say to me, after the closing +of the door. "He never thinks about the future. Well, I hope that he +will get over his boyish notions in time." + +Many of the articles that Mrs. Lincoln took away from the White House +were given, after her arrival in Chicago, for the benefit of charity +fairs. + +At last everything was packed, and the day for departure for the West +came. I can never forget that day; it was so unlike the day when the +body of the President was borne from the hall in grand and solemn state. +Then thousands gathered to bow the head in reverence as the plumed +hearse drove down the line. There was all the pomp of military +display--drooping flags, battalions with reversed arms, and bands +playing dirge-like airs. Now, the wife of the President was leaving the +White House, and there was scarcely a friend to tell her good-by. She +passed down the public stairway, entered her carriage, and quietly drove +to the depot where we took the cars. The silence was almost painful. + +It had been arranged that I should go to Chicago. When Mrs. Lincoln +first suggested her plan, I strongly objected; but I had been with her +so long, that she had acquired great power over me. + +"I cannot go West with you, Mrs. Lincoln," I said, when the idea was +first advanced. + +"But you must go to Chicago with me, Elizabeth; I cannot do without +you." + +"You forget my business, Mrs. Lincoln. I cannot leave it. Just now I +have the spring trousseau to make for Mrs. Douglas, and I have promised +to have it done in less than a week." + +"Never mind. Mrs. Douglas can get some one else to make her trousseau. +You may find it to your interest to go. I am very poor now, but if +Congress makes an appropriation for my benefit, you shall be well +rewarded." + +"It is not the reward, but--" I commenced, by way of reply, but she +stopped me: + +"Now don't say another word about it, if you do not wish to distress me. +I have determined that you shall go to Chicago with me, and you _must_ +go." + +When Mrs. Douglas learned that Mrs. Lincoln wished me to accompany her +West, she sent me word: + +"Never mind me. Do all you can for Mrs. Lincoln. My heart's sympathy is +with her." + +Finding that no excuse would be accepted, I made preparations to go to +Chicago with Mrs. L. + +The green car had specially been chartered for us, and in this we were +conveyed to the West. Dr. Henry accompanied us, and he was remarkably +attentive and kind. The first night out, Mrs. Lincoln had a severe +headache; and while I was bathing her temples, she said to me: + +"Lizabeth, you are my best and kindest friend, and I love you as my best +friend. I wish it were in my power to make you comfortable for the +balance of your days. If Congress provides for me, depend upon it, I +will provide for you." + +The trip was devoid of interest. We arrived in Chicago without accident +or delay, and apartments were secured for us at the Tremont House, where +we remained one week. At the expiration of this time Mrs. Lincoln +decided that living at the hotel was attended with too much expense, so +it was arranged that we should go to the country. Rooms were selected at +Hyde Park, a summer resort. + +Robert and Tad accompanied their mother to Hyde Park. We arrived about 3 +o'clock in the afternoon of Saturday. The place had just been opened the +summer before, and there was a newness about everything. The +accommodations were not first-class, the rooms being small and plainly +furnished. It was a lively day for us all. Robert occupied himself +unpacking his books, and arranging them on the shelves in the corner of +his small but neat room. I assisted him, he talking pleasantly all the +while. When we were through, he folded his arms, stood off a little +distance from the mantel, with an abstracted look as if he were thinking +of the great change in his fortunes--contrasting the present with the +past. Turning to me, he asked: "Well, Mrs. Keckley, how do you like our +new quarters?" + +"This is a delightful place, and I think you will pass your time +pleasantly," I answered. + +He looked at me with a quizzical smile, then remarked: "You call it a +delightful place! Well, perhaps it is. Since you do not have to stay +here, you can safely say as much about the charming situation as you +please. I presume that I must put up with it, as mother's pleasure must +be consulted before my own. But candidly, I would almost as soon be +dead as be compelled to remain three months in this dreary house." + +He seemed to feel what he said, and going to the window, he looked out +upon the view with moody countenance. I passed into Mrs. Lincoln's room, +and found her lying upon the bed, sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"What a dreary place, Lizzie! And to think that I should be compelled to +live here, because I have not the means to live elsewhere. Ah! what a +sad change has come to us all." I had listened to her sobbing for eight +weeks, therefore I was never surprised to find her in tears. Tad was the +only cheerful one of the party. He was a child of sunshine, and nothing +seemed to dampen the ardor of his spirits. + +Sunday was a very quiet day. I looked out of my window in the morning, +upon the beautiful lake that formed one of the most delightful views +from the house. The wind was just strong enough to ripple the broad +bosom of the water, and each ripple caught a jewel from the sunshine, +and threw it sparkling up towards the sky. Here and there a sail-boat +silently glided into view, or sank below the faint blue line that marked +the horizon--glided and melted away like the spectral shadows that +sometimes haunt the white snow-fields in the cold, tranquil light of a +winter's moon. As I stood by my window that morning, looking out upon +the lake, my thoughts were etherealized--the reflected sunbeams +suggested visions of crowns studded with the jewels of eternal life, and +I wondered how any one could call Hyde Park a dreary place. I had seen +so much trouble in my life, that I was willing to fold my arms and sink +into a passive slumber--slumber anywhere, so the great longing of the +soul was gratified--rest. + +Robert spent the day in his room with his books, while I remained in +Mrs. Lincoln's room, talking with her, contrasting the present with the +past, and drawing plans for the future. She held no communication, by +letter or otherwise, with any of her relatives or old friends, saying +that she wished to lead a secluded life for the summer. Old faces, she +claimed, would only bring back memories of scenes that she desired to +forget; and new faces, she felt assured, could not sympathize with her +distress, or add to the comforts of her situation. + +On Monday morning, Robert was getting ready to ride into Chicago, as +business called him to the city. + +"Where you goin', brother Bob?"--Tad generally called Robert, brother +Bob. + +"Only into town!" was the brief reply. + +"Mayn't I go with you?" + +"Ask mother. I think that she will say no." + +Just then Mrs. Lincoln came in, and Tad ran to her, with the eager +question: + +"Oh, Ma! can't I go to town with brother Bob? I want to go so badly." + +"Go to town! No; you must stay and keep me company. Besides, I have +determined that you shall get a lesson every day, and I am going to +commence to-day with you." + +"I don't want to get a lesson--I won't get a lesson," broke in the +impetuous boy. "I don't want to learn my book; I want to go to town!" + +"I suppose you want to grow up to be a great dunce. Hush, Tad; you shall +not go to town until you have said a lesson;" and the mother looked +resolute. + +"May I go after I learn my book?" was the next question. + +"Yes; if Robert will wait for you." + +"Oh, Bob will wait; won't you, Bob?" + +"No, I cannot wait; but the landlord is going in this afternoon, and you +can go with him. You must do as mother tells you, Tad. You are getting +to be a big boy now, and must start to school next fall; and you would +not like to go to school without knowing how to read." + +"Where's my book, Ma? Get my book quick. I will say my lesson," and he +jumped about the room, boisterously, boy-like. + +"Be quiet, Tad. Here is your book, and we will now begin the first +lesson," said his mother, as she seated herself in an easy-chair. + +Tad had always been much humored by his parents, especially by his +father. He suffered from a slight impediment in his speech, and had +never been made to go to school; consequently his book knowledge was +very limited. I knew that his education had been neglected, but had no +idea he was so deficient as the first lesson at Hyde Park proved him to +be. + +Drawing a low chair to his mother's side, he opened his book, and began +to slowly spell the first word, "A-P-E." + +"Well, what does A-p-e spell?" + +"Monkey," was the instant rejoinder. The word was illustrated by a small +wood-cut of an ape, which looked to Tad's eyes very much like a monkey; +and his pronunciation was guided by the picture, and not by the sounds +of the different letters. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed his mother. "A-p-e does not spell monkey." + +"Does spell monkey! Isn't that a monkey?" and Tad pointed triumphantly +to the picture. + +"No, it is not a monkey." + +"Not a monkey! what is it, then?" + +"An ape." + +"An ape! 'taint an ape. Don't I know a monkey when I see it?" + +"No, if you say that is a monkey." + +"I do know a monkey. I've seen lots of them in the street with the +organs. I know a monkey better than you do, 'cause I always go out into +the street to see them when they come by, and you don't." + +"But, Tad, listen to me. An ape is a species of the monkey. It looks +like a monkey, but it is not a monkey." + +"It shouldn't look like a monkey, then. Here, Yib"--he always called me +Yib--"isn't this a monkey, and don't A-p-e spell monkey? Ma don't know +anything about it;" and he thrust his book into my face in an earnest, +excited manner. + +I could not longer restrain myself, and burst out laughing. Tad looked +very much offended, and I hastened to say: "I beg your pardon, Master +Tad; I hope that you will excuse my want of politeness." + +He bowed his head in a patronizing way, and returned to the original +question: "Isn't this a monkey? Don't A-p-e spell monkey?" + +"No, Tad; your mother is right. A-p-e spells ape." + +"You don't know as much as Ma. Both of you don't know anything;" and +Master Tad's eyes flashed with indignation. + +Robert entered the room, and the question was referred to him. After +many explanations, he succeeded in convincing Tad that A-p-e does not +spell monkey, and the balance of the lesson was got over with less +difficulty. + +Whenever I think of this incident I am tempted to laugh; and then it +occurs to me that had Tad been a negro boy, not the son of a President, +and so difficult to instruct, he would have been called thick-skulled, +and would have been held up as an example of the inferiority of race. I +know many full negro boys, able to read and write, who are not older +than Tad Lincoln was when he persisted that A-p-e spelt monkey. Do not +imagine that I desire to reflect upon the intellect of little Tad. Not +at all; he is a bright boy, a son that will do honor to the genius and +greatness of his father; I only mean to say that some incidents are +about as damaging to one side of the question as to the other. If a +colored boy appears dull, so does a white boy sometimes; and if a whole +race is judged by a single example of apparent dulness, another race +should be judged by a similar example. + +I returned to Washington, with Mrs. Lincoln's best wishes for my success +in business. The journey was devoid of incident. After resting a few +days, I called at the White House, and transacted some business for Mrs. +Lincoln. I had no desire to enter the house, for everything about it +bitterly reminded me of the past; and when I came out of the door, I +hoped that I had crossed the threshold for the last time. I was asked by +some of my friends if I had sent my business cards to Mr. Johnson's +family, and my answer was that I had not, as I had no desire to work for +the President's family. Mr. Johnson was no friend to Mr. Lincoln, and he +had failed to treat Mrs. Lincoln, in the hour of her greatest sorrow, +with even common courtesy. + +Having promised to make a spring trousseau for Mrs. Senator Douglas as +soon as I should return from Chicago, I called on her to meet the +engagement. She appeared pleased to see me, and in greeting me, asked, +with evident surprise: + +"Why, Keckley"--she always called me Keckley--"is this you? I did not +know you were coming back. It was reported that you designed remaining +with Mrs. Lincoln all summer." + +"Mrs. Lincoln would have been glad to have kept me with her had she been +able." + +"Able! What do you mean by that?" + +"Simply this: Already she is laboring under pecuniary embarrassment, and +was only able to pay my expenses, and allow me nothing for my time." + +"You surprise me. I thought she was left in good circumstances." + +"So many think, it appears. Mrs. Lincoln, I assure you, is now +practising the closest economy. I must do something for myself, Mrs. +Douglas, so I have come back to Washington to open my shop." + +The next day I collected my assistants, and my business went on as +usual. Orders came in more rapidly than I could fill them. One day, in +the middle of the month of June, the girl who was attending the door +came into the cutting-room, where I was hard at work: + +"Mrs. Keckley, there is a lady below, who wants to see you." + +"Who is she?" + +"I don't know. I did not learn her name." + +"Is her face familiar? Does she look like a regular customer?" + +"No, she is a stranger. I don't think she was ever here before. She came +in an open carriage, with a black woman for an attendant." + +"It may be the wife of one of Johnson's new secretaries. Do go down, +Mrs. Keckley," exclaimed my work-girls in a chorus. I went below, and on +entering the parlor, a plainly dressed lady rose to her feet, and asked: + +"Is this the dressmaker?" + +"Yes, I am a dressmaker." + +"Mrs. Keckley?" + +"Yes." + +"Mrs. Lincoln's former dressmaker, were you not?" + +"Yes, I worked for Mrs. Lincoln." + +"Are you very busy now?" + +"Very, indeed." + +"Can you do anything for me?" + +"That depends upon what is to be done, and when it is to be done." + +"Well, say one dress now, and several others a few weeks later." + +"I can make one dress for you now, but no more. I cannot finish the one +for you in less than three weeks." + +"That will answer. I am Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President +Johnson. I expect my sister, Mrs. Stover, here in three weeks, and the +dress is for her. We are both the same size, and you can fit the dress +to me." + +The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and after measuring Mrs. +Patterson, she bade me good morning, entered her carriage, and drove +away. + +When I went up-stairs into the work-room, the girls were anxious to +learn who my visitor was. + +"It was Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson," I answered, +in response to several questions. + +"What! the daughter of our good Moses. Are you going to work for her?" + +"I have taken her order." + +"I fear that Johnson will prove a poor Moses, and I would not work for +any of the family," remarked one of the girls. None of them appeared to +like Mr. Lincoln's successor. + +I finished the dress for Mrs. Patterson, and it gave satisfaction. I +afterwards learned that both Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover were +kindhearted, plain, unassuming women, making no pretensions to elegance. +One day when I called at the White House, in relation to some work that +I was doing for them, I found Mrs. Patterson busily at work with a +sewing-machine. The sight was a novel one to me for the White House, for +as long as I remained with Mrs. Lincoln, I do not recollect ever having +seen her with a needle in her hand. The last work done for the Johnsons +by me were two dresses, one for each of the sisters. Mrs. Patterson +subsequently wrote me a note, requesting me to cut and fit a dress for +her; to which I replied that I never cut and fitted work to be made up +outside of my work-room. This brought our business relations to an +abrupt end. + +The months passed, and my business prospered. I continually received +letters from Mrs. Lincoln, and as the anniversary of her husband's death +approached, she wrote in a sadder strain. Before I left Chicago she had +exacted the promise that should Congress make an appropriation for her +benefit, I must join her in the West, and go with her to visit the tomb +of the President for the first time. The appropriation was made one of +the conditions of my visit, for without relief from Congress she would +be unable to bear my expenses. The appropriation was not made; and so I +was unable to join Mrs. Lincoln at the appointed time. She wrote me that +her plan was to leave Chicago in the morning with Tad, reach Springfield +at night, stop at one of the hotels, drive out to Oak Ridge the next +day, and take the train for Chicago the same evening, thus avoiding a +meeting with any of her old friends. This plan, as she afterwards wrote +me, was carried out. When the second anniversary approached, President +Johnson and party were "swinging round the circle," and as they were to +visit Chicago, she was especially anxious to be away from the city when +they should arrive; accordingly she hurried off to Springfield, and +spent the time in weeping over the tomb where repose the hallowed ashes +of her husband. + +During all this time I was asked many questions about Mrs. Lincoln, some +prompted by friendship, but a greater number by curiosity; but my brief +answers, I fear, were not always accepted as the most satisfactory. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE ORIGIN OF THE RIVALRY BETWEEN MR. DOUGLAS AND MR. LINCOLN + + +Mrs. Lincoln from her girlhood up had an ambition to become the wife of +a President. When a little girl, as I was told by one of her sisters, +she was disposed to be a little noisy at times, and was self-willed. One +day she was romping about the room, making more noise than the nerves of +her grandmother could stand. The old lady looked over her spectacles, +and said, in a commanding tone: + +"Sit down, Mary. Do be quiet. What on earth do you suppose will become +of you if you go on this way?" + +"Oh, I will be the wife of a President some day," carelessly answered +the petted child. + +Mrs. Lincoln, as Miss Mary Todd, was quite a belle in Springfield, +Illinois, and from all accounts she was fond of flirting. She generally +managed to keep a half-dozen gentlemen biting at the hook that she +baited so temptingly for them. The world, if I mistake not, are not +aware that the rivalry between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Stephen A. Douglas +commenced over the hand of Miss Mary Todd. The young lady was ambitious, +and she smiled more sweetly upon Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincoln than any of +her other admirers, as they were regarded as rising men. She played her +part so well that neither of the rivals for a long time could tell who +would win the day. Mr. Douglas first proposed for her hand, and she +discarded him. The young man urged his suit boldly: + +"Mary, you do not know what you are refusing. You have always had an +ambition to become the wife of a President of the United States. Pardon +the egotism, but I fear that in refusing my hand to-night you have +thrown away your best chance to ever rule in the White House." + +"I do not understand you, Mr. Douglas." + +"Then I will speak more plainly. You know, Mary, that I am ambitious +like yourself, and something seems to whisper in my ear, 'You will be +President some day.' Depend upon it, I shall make a stubborn fight to +win the proud position." + +"You have my best wishes, Mr. Douglas; still I cannot consent to be your +wife. I shall become Mrs. President, or I am the victim of false +prophets, but it will not be as Mrs. Douglas." + +I have this little chapter in a romantic history from the lips of Mrs. +Lincoln herself. + +At one of the receptions at the White House, shortly after the first +inauguration, Mrs. Lincoln joined in the promenade with Senator Douglas. +He was holding a bouquet that had been presented to her, and as they +moved along he said: + +"Mary, it reminds me of old times to have you lean upon my arm." + +"You refer to the days of our youth. I must do you the credit, Mr. +Douglas, to say, that you were a gallant beau." + +"Not only a beau, but a lover. Do you remember the night our flirtation +was brought to an end?" + +"Distinctly. You now see that I was right. I am Mrs. President, but not +Mrs. Douglas." + +"True, you have reached the goal before me, but I do not despair. Mrs. +Douglas--a nobler woman does not live--if I am spared, may possibly +succeed you as Mrs. President." + +A few evenings after Mr. Douglas had been discarded, Mr. Lincoln made a +formal proposal for the hand of Miss Todd, but it appears that the young +lady was not willing to capitulate at once. She believed that she could +send her lover adrift to-day and win him back to-morrow. + +"You are bold, Mr. Lincoln." + +"Love makes me bold." + +"You honor me, pardon me, but I cannot consent to be your wife." + +"Is this your final answer, Miss Todd?" and the suitor rose nervously to +his feet. + +"I do not often jest, Mr. Lincoln. Why should I reconsider to-morrow my +decision of to-day." + +"Excuse me. Your answer is sufficient. I was led to hope that I might +become dearer to you than a friend, but the hope, it seems, has proved +an idle one. I have the honor to say good night, Miss Todd," and pale, +yet calm, Mr. Lincoln bowed himself out of the room. + +He rushed to his office in a frantic state of mind. Dr. Henry, his most +intimate friend, happened to come in, and was surprised to see the young +lawyer walking the floor in an agitated manner. + +"What is the matter, Lincoln? You look desperate." + +"Matter! I am sick of the world. It is a heartless, deceitful world, and +I care not how soon I am out of it." + +"You rave. What has happened? Have you been quarrelling with your +sweetheart?" + +"Quarrel! I wish to God it was a quarrel, for then I could look forward +to reconciliation; the girl has refused to become my wife, after leading +me to believe that she loved me. She is a heartless coquette." + +"Don't give up the conquest so easily. Cheer up, man, you may succeed +yet. Perhaps she is only testing your love." + +"No! I believe that she is going to marry Douglas. If she does I will +blow my brains out." + +"Nonsense! That would not mend matters. Your brains were given to you +for different use. Come, we will go to your room now. Go to bed and +sleep on the question, and you will get up feeling stronger to-morrow;" +and Dr. Henry took the arm of his friend Lincoln, led him home, and saw +him safely in bed. + +The next morning the doctor called at Mr. Lincoln's room, and found that +his friend had passed a restless night. Excitement had brought on fever, +which threatened to assume a violent form, as the cause of the +excitement still remained. Several days passed, and Mr. Lincoln was +confined to his bed. Dr. Henry at once determined to call on Miss Todd, +and find out how desperate the case was. Miss Todd was glad to see him, +and she was deeply distressed to learn that Mr. Lincoln was ill. She +wished to go to him at once, but the Doctor reminded her that she was +the cause of his illness. She frankly acknowledged her folly, saying +that she only desired to test the sincerity of Mr. Lincoln's love, that +he was the idol of her heart, and that she would become his wife. + +The Doctor returned with joyful news to his patient. The intelligence +proved the best remedy for the disease. Mutual explanations followed, +and in a few months Mr. Lincoln led Miss Todd to the altar in triumph. + +I learned these facts from Dr. Henry and Mrs. Lincoln. I believe them to +be facts, and as such have recorded them. They do not agree with Mr. +Herndon's story, that Mr. Lincoln never loved but one woman, and that +woman was Ann Rutledge; but then Mr. Herndon's story must be looked upon +as a pleasant piece of fiction. When it appeared, Mrs. Lincoln felt +shocked that one who pretended to be the friend of her dead husband +should deliberately seek to blacken his memory. Mr. Lincoln was far too +honest a man to marry a woman that he did not love. He was a kind and an +indulgent husband, and when he saw faults in his wife he excused them as +he would excuse the impulsive acts of a child. In fact, Mrs. Lincoln was +never more pleased than when the President called her his child-wife. + +Before closing this rambling chapter I desire to refer to another +incident. + +After the death of my son, Miss Mary Welsh, a dear friend, one of my old +St. Louis patrons, called to see me, and on broaching the cause of my +grief, she condoled with me. She knew that I had looked forward to the +day when my son would be a support to me--knew that he was to become the +prop and main-stay of my old age, and knowing this, she advised me to +apply for a pension. I disliked the idea very much, and told her +so--told her that I did not want to make money out of his death. She +explained away all of my objections--argued that Congress had made an +appropriation for the specific purpose of giving a pension to every +widow who should lose an only son in the war, and insisted that I should +have my rights. She was so enthusiastic in the matter that she went to +see Hon. Owen Lovejoy, then a member of the House from Illinois, and +laid my case before him. Mr. Lovejoy was very kind, and said as I was +entitled to the pension, I should have it, even if he had to bring the +subject before Congress. I did not desire public agitation, and Mr. +Lovejoy prepared my claim and laid it before the Commissioners. In the +meantime he left Washington, and Mr. Joseph Lovejoy, his brother, +prosecuted the claim for me, and finally succeeded in securing me a +pension of eight dollars per month. Mr. Joseph Lovejoy was inclined to +the Democratic party, and he pressed my claim with great earnestness; he +hoped that the claim would not be allowed, as he said the rejection of +it would make capital for his party. Nevertheless the pension was +granted, and I am none the less thankful to Mr. Joseph Lovejoy for his +kindness to me, and interest in my welfare. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +OLD FRIENDS + + +In order to introduce a pleasant chapter of my life, I must take a +slight retrospective glance. Mrs. Ann[e] Garland, the mistress from whom +I purchased my freedom in St. Louis, had five daughters, all lovely, +attractive girls. I used to take pride in dressing the two eldest, Miss +Mary and Miss Carrie, for parties. Though the family labored under +pecuniary embarrassment, I worked for these two young girls, and they +were always able to present a good appearance in society. They were much +admired, and both made the best matches of the season. Miss Mary married +Dr. Pappan, and Miss Carrie, Dr. John Farrow. I loved them both +tenderly, and they were warmly attached to me. Both are now dead, and +when the death-film was gathering in the eyes, each called for me and +asked to die in my arms. Miss Carrie did not long survive her sister, +and I wept many tears over the death-beds of the two lovely flowers that +had blossomed so sweetly beneath my eyes. Each breathed her last in the +arms that had sheltered them so often in the bright rosy period of life. +My mother took care of my son, and Miss Nannie Garland, the fourth +daughter, when a wee thing, became my especial charge. She slept in my +bed, and I watched over her as if she had been my own child. She called +me Yiddie, and I could not have loved her more tenderly had she been the +sister of my unfortunate boy. She was about twelve years old when I +purchased my freedom, and resigned my charge to other hands. After Mr. +Garland's death, the widow moved to Vicksburg, Mississippi, and I lost +sight of the family for a few years. My mother accompanied them to +Vicksburg, where she died. I made two visits to Vicksburg as a free +woman, the object of my second visit being to look after the few +effects left by my mother. As I did not visit my mother's grave at the +time, the Garlands were much surprised, but I offered no explanation. +The reason is not difficult to understand. My mother was buried in a +public ground, and the marks of her grave, as I learned, were so obscure +that the spot could not be readily designated. To look upon a grave, and +not feel certain whose ashes repose beneath the sod, is painful, and the +doubt which mystifies you, weakens the force, if not the purity, of the +love-offering from the heart. Memory preserved a sunny picture of my +mother's face, and I did not wish to weave sombre threads--threads +suggestive of a deserted grave-yard--into it, and thus impair its +beauty. After spending a few weeks with the family, I returned to St. +Louis, and then came North. The war broke out, and I lost all trace of +the Garlands. Often, during my residence in Washington, I recalled the +past, and wondered what had become of those who claimed my first duty +and my first love. When I would mention their names and express interest +in their welfare, my Northern friends would roll up their eyes in +surprise. + +"Why, Lizzie, how can you have a kind thought for those who inflicted a +terrible wrong upon you by keeping you in bondage?" they would ask. + +"You forget the past is dear to every one, for to the past belongs that +golden period, the days of childhood. The past is a mirror that reflects +the chief incidents of my life. To surrender it is to surrender the +greatest part of my existence--early impressions, friends, and the +graves of my father, my mother, and my son. These people are associated +with everything that memory holds dear, and so long as memory proves +faithful, it is but natural that I should sigh to see them once more." + +"But they have forgotten you. They are too selfish to give a single +thought to you, now that you no longer are their slave." + +"Perhaps so, but I cannot believe it. You do not know the Southern +people as well as I do--how warm is the attachment between master and +slave." + +My Northern friends could not understand the feeling, therefore +explanation was next to useless. They would listen with impatience, and +remark at the close, with a shrug of the shoulders, "You have some +strange notions, Lizzie." + +In the fall of 1865 a lady called on me at my apartments in Washington. +Her face looked familiar, but I could not place her. When I entered the +room, she came towards me eagerly: + +"You are surprised to see me, I know. I am just from Lynchburg, and when +I left cousin Ann[e] I promised to call and see you if I came to +Washington. I am here, you see, according to promise." + +I was more bewildered than ever. + +"Cousin Ann[e]! Pardon me--" + +"Oh, I see you do not recognize me. I am Mrs. General Longstreet, but +you knew me when a girl as Bettie Garland." + +"Bettie Garland! And is this indeed you? I am so glad to see you. Where +does Miss Ann[e] live now?" I always called my last mistress, Miss +Ann[e]. + +"Ah! I thought you could not forget old friends. Cousin Ann[e] is living +in Lynchburg. All the family are in Virginia. They moved to the old +State during the war. Fannie is dead. Nannie has grown into a woman and +is married to General Meem. Hugh was killed in the war, and now only +Spot, Maggie, and Nannie are left." + +"Fannie, dead! and poor Hugh! You bring sad news as well as pleasant. +And so my little pet is married? I can hardly believe it; she was only a +child when I saw her last." + +"Yes, Nannie is married to a noble man. General Meem belongs to one of +the best families in Virginia. They are now living at Rude's Hill, up +beyond Winchester, in the Shenandoah Valley. All of them want to see you +very badly." + +"I should be delighted to go to them. Miss Bettie, I can hardly realize +that you are the wife of General Longstreet; and just think, you are now +sitting in the very chair and the very room where Mrs. Lincoln has often +sat!" + +She laughed: "The change is a great one, Lizzie; we little dream to-day +what to-morrow will bring forth. Well, we must take a philosophical view +of life. After fighting so long against the Yankees, General Longstreet +is now in Washington, sueing for pardon, and we propose to live in +peace with the United States again." + +I had many questions to ask her about old friends, and the time passed +rapidly. She greeted me with the frankness that she had always extended +to me, and I was transported to days of the long-ago. Her stay in +Washington was brief, as the General arranged his business, and they +left the capital the next day. + +Mrs. Longstreet gave me the Garlands' address, and I wrote to them, +expressing the hope that I would be able to see them before long. In +reply came letters full of tender sympathy and affection. In the winter +of 1865, Miss Nannie wrote to me that she had the best husband in the +world; that they designed going to housekeeping in the spring, and that +they would be glad to have me make them a visit in July, 1866. She sent +me a pressing invitation. "You must come to me, dear Lizzie," she wrote. +"We are now living at Rude's Hill. I am dying to see you. Ma, Maggie, +Spot, and Minnie, sister Mary's child, are with me, and you only are +needed to make the circle complete. Come; I will not take no for an +answer." + +I was anxious to go myself, and when I received the urgent invitation I +concluded to go at once, and I wrote them to expect me in August. On the +10th of August I left Washington for Virginia, taking the train for +Harper's Ferry. The journey was attended with several disappointments. +We arrived at Harper's Ferry in the night, and being asleep at the time, +I was carried to the station beyond, where I had to wait and take the +return train. After returning to Harper's Ferry, where I changed cars +for Winchester, I missed the train, and was detained another day. From +Winchester the only way to reach Rude's Hill was by a line of stages. We +commenced the weary drive in the evening, and rode all night. A young +gentleman in the stage said that he knew General Meem well, and that he +would tell me when we reached the place. Relying upon him, I went to +sleep, and it appears that the polite young gentleman followed my +example. About four o'clock in the morning one of the passengers shook +me, and asked: + +"Aunty, don't you want to get out at Rude's Hill?" + +I started up, rubbing my eyes. "Yes. Are we there?" + +"More than there. We have passed it." + +"Passed it!" + +"Yes. It is six miles back. You should not sleep so soundly, Aunty." + +"Why _did_ you not tell me sooner? I am _so_ anxious to be there." + +"Fact is, I forgot it. Never mind. Get out at this village, and you can +find conveyance back." + +The village, New Market, was in a dilapidated condition; everything +about it spoke plainly of the sad destruction of war. Getting out of the +stage I went into a house, by courtesy named a hotel, where I obtained a +cup of coffee. + +"Is there no conveyance from here to Rude's Hill?" I asked. + +"Yes; the stage returns this evening," answered the landlord. + +"This evening! I want to go as soon as possible. I should die if I had +to stay all day in this lonely place." + +A colored man behind the bar, seeing how earnest I was, came forward, +and informed me that he would drive me over to General Meem's place in +an hour. This was joyful news, and I urged him to get ready to start as +soon as possible. + +While standing in the door of the hotel, impatiently waiting for my +colored friend to drive round with his little wagon, a fat old lady +waddled across the street and greeted me. + +"Ain't you Lizzie?" + +"Yes," I answered, surprised that she should know my name. + +"I thought so. They have been expecting you at Rude's Hill every day for +two weeks, and they do but little but talk about you. Mrs. Meem was in +town yesterday, and she said that she expected you this week certain. +They will be mighty glad to see you. Why, will you believe it! they +actually have kept a light burning in the front window every night for +ten nights, in order that you might not go by the place should you +arrive in the night." + +"Thank you. It is pleasant to know that I am expected. I fell asleep in +the stage, and failed to see the light, so am here instead of at Rude's +Hill." + +Just then the colored man drove up with the wagon, and I got in with +him, and was soon on the road to General Meem's country-seat. + +As we drove up to Rude's Hill, I observed a young man standing in the +yard, and believing it to be Spot, whom I had not seen for eight years, +I beckoned to him. With an exclamation of joy, he came running towards +me. His movements attracted the attention of the family, and in a minute +the door was crowded with anxious, inquiring faces. "It is Lizzie! It is +Lizzie!" was the happy cry from all parties. In my eagerness to get to +them, I stepped from the wagon to the top of the stile, intending to +make a triumphant leap into the yard; but, alas! my exultation was +brief. My hoop-skirt caught on one of the posts, and I fell sprawling +into the yard. Spot reached me first and picked me up, only to put me +into the arms of Miss Nannie, her sister Maggie, and Mrs. Garland. Could +my friends of the North have seen that meeting, they would never have +doubted again that the mistress had any affection for her former slave. +I was carried to the house in triumph. In the parlor I was divested of +my things, and placed in an easy-chair before a bright fire. The +servants looked on in amazement. + +"Lizzie, you are not changed a bit. You look as young as when you left +us in St. Louis, years ago," and Mrs. Meem, my foster child, kissed me +again. + +"Here, Lizzie, this is Minnie, Minnie Pappan, sister Mary's child. +Hasn't she grown?" and Miss Maggie led a tall, queenly lady up to me. + +"Minnie! Poor dear Miss Mary's child! I can hardly believe it. She was +only a baby when I saw her last. It makes me feel old to see how large +she has grown. Miss Minnie, you are larger than--your mother was--your +dear mother whom I held in my arms when she died;" and I brushed a tear +from each of my eyes. + +"Have you had your breakfast, Lizzie?" asked Mrs. Garland. + +"No, she has not," exclaimed her children in a chorus. "I will get her +breakfast for her," and Nannie, Maggie, and Minnie started for the +kitchen. + +"It is not necessary that all should go," said Mrs. Garland. "Here is +the cook, she will get breakfast ready." + +But the three did not heed her. All rushed to the kitchen, and soon +brought me a nice hot breakfast. + +While I was eating, the cook remarked: "I declar, I nebber did see +people carry on so. Wonder if I should go off and stay two or three +years, if all ob you wud hug and kiss me so when I cum back?" + +After I had finished my breakfast, General Meem came in. He greeted me +warmly. "Lizzie, I am very glad to see you. I feel that you are an old +acquaintance, I have heard so much of you through my wife, her sister, +and her mother. Welcome to Rude's Hill." + +I was much pleased with his appearance, and closer acquaintance proved +him to be a model gentleman. + +Rude's Hill, during the war, was once occupied by General Stonewall +Jackson for his head-quarters, which gave more than ordinary interest to +the place. The location was delightful, but the marks of war could be +seen everywhere on the plantation. General Meem was engaged in planting, +and he employed a large number of servants to assist him in his work. +About a mile from Rude's Hill was Mount Airy, the elegant country-seat +of the General's brother. The two families visited each other a great +deal, and as both entertained plenty of company, the Autumn months +passed pleasantly. I was comfortably quartered at Rude's Hill, and was +shown every attention. We sewed together, talking of old times, and +every day either drove out, or rode on horseback. The room in which I +sat in the daytime was the room that General Jackson always slept in, +and people came from far and near to look at it. General Jackson was the +ideal soldier of the Southern people, and they worshipped him as an +idol. Every visitor would tear a splinter from the walls or windows of +the room, to take away and treasure as a priceless relic. + +It did not take me long to discover that I was an object of great +curiosity in the neighborhood. My association with Mrs. Lincoln, and my +attachment for the Garlands, whose slave I had once been, clothed me +with romantic interest. + +Colonel Harry Gilmore, well known as a partisan leader in Maryland and +Virginia during the war, was a frequent visitor at Mount Airy and Rude's +Hill. One day I accompanied a party to a tournament, and General Meem +laughed pleasantly over the change that had come to me in so short a +time. + +"Why, Lizzie, you are riding with Colonel Gilmore. Just think of the +change from Lincoln to Gilmore! It sounds like a dream. But then the +change is an evidence of the peaceful feeling of this country; a change, +I trust, that augurs brighter days for us all." + +I had many long talks with Mrs. Garland, in one of which I asked what +had become of the only sister of my mother, formerly maid to Mrs. G's +mother. + +"She is dead, Lizzie. Has been dead for some years. A maid in the old +time meant something different from what we understand by a maid at the +present time. Your aunt used to scrub the floor and milk a cow now and +then, as well as attend to the orders of my mother. My mother was severe +with her slaves in some respects, but then her heart was full of +kindness. She had your aunt punished one day, and not liking her +sorrowful look, she made two extravagant promises in order to effect a +reconciliation, both of which were accepted. On condition that her maid +would look cheerful, and be good and friendly with her, the mistress +told her she might go to church the following Sunday, and that she would +give her a silk dress to wear on the occasion. Now my mother had but one +silk dress in the world, silk not being so plenty in those days as it is +now, and yet she gave this dress to her maid to make friends with her. +Two weeks afterward mother was sent for to spend the day at a neighbor's +house, and on inspecting her wardrobe, discovered that she had no dress +fit to wear in company. She had but one alternative, and that was to +appeal to the generosity of your aunt Charlotte. Charlotte was summoned, +and enlightened in regard to the situation; the maid proffered to loan +the silk dress to her mistress for the occasion, and the mistress was +only too glad to accept. She made her appearance at the social +gathering, duly arrayed in the silk that her maid had worn to church on +the preceding Sunday." + +We laughed over the incident, when Mrs. Garland said: "Lizzie, during +the entire war I used to think of you every day, and have longed to see +you so much. When we heard you were with Mrs. Lincoln, the people used +to tell me that I was foolish to think of ever seeing you again--that +your head must be completely turned. But I knew your heart, and could +not believe that you would forget us. I always argued that you would +come and see us some day." + +"You judged me rightly, Miss Ann[e]. How could I forget you whom I had +grown up with from infancy. Northern people used to tell me that you +would forget me, but I told them I knew better, and hoped on." + +"Ah! love is too strong to be blown away like gossamer threads. The +chain is strong enough to bind life even to the world beyond the grave. +Do you always feel kindly towards me, Lizzie?" + +"To tell you candidly, Miss Ann[e], I have but one unkind thought, and +that is, that you did not give me the advantages of a good education. +What I have learned has been the study of after years." + +"You are right. I did not look at things then as I do now. I have always +regretted that you were not educated when a girl. But you have not +suffered much on this score, since you get along in the world better +than we who enjoyed every educational advantage in childhood." + +I remained five weeks at Rude's Hill, and they were five of the most +delightful weeks of my life. I designed going direct to Richmond, but +the cholera was reported to be raging in that city, so I took the train +for Baltimore. In Baltimore I stopped with Mrs. Annette Jordan. Mrs. +Garland had given me a letter to Mrs. Douglas Gordon, who introduced me +to several Baltimore ladies, among others Mrs. Doctor Thomas, who said +to me, with tears in her eyes: "Lizzie, you deserve to meet with success +for having been so kind to our friends in the days of the past. I wish +there were more women in the world like you. I will always do what +little I can to promote your welfare." + +After remaining in Baltimore a few days, I came to the conclusion that I +could do better in Washington; so I returned to the capital, and +reopened my business. + +In the spring of 1867, Miss Maggie Garland paid a visit to Baltimore. +Before leaving Virginia she said to some of her friends in Lynchburg +that she designed going by Washington to see Lizzie. Her friends +ridiculed the idea, but she persisted: + +"I love Lizzie next to mother. She has been a mother to us all. Half the +pleasure of my visit is that I will be able to see her." + +She wrote me a letter, saying that she designed visiting me, asking if +it would be agreeable. I replied, "Yes, come by all means. I shall be so +glad to see you." + +She came and stayed at my rooms, and expressed surprise to find me so +comfortably fixed. + +I can not do better than conclude this chapter with two letters from my +dear young friends, the first from Mrs. General Meem, and the second +from Miss Maggie Garland. These letters show the goodness of their +hearts and the frankness of their natures. I trust that they will not +object to the publicity that I give them: + + "RUDE'S HILL, Sept. 14, 1867. + + "MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am nearly ashamed of myself for + neglecting to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and the + very acceptable box of patterns, some weeks ago; but you will + pardon my remissness, I know, for you can imagine what a busy + time I've had all summer, with a house full of company most + of the time, and with very inefficient servants, and in some + departments _none at all_; so I have had to be at times + dining-room servant, house-maid, and the last and most + difficult, dairy-maid. But I have turned that department over + to our gardener, who, though as green at the business as + myself, seems willing to learn, and has been doing the + milking all summer. These are a _few_ of the reasons why I + have not written to you before, for I hope you will always + believe that you occupy a large place in my memory and + affection, whether I write to you or not; and such a poor + correspondent as yourself ought not to complain. Mother, Mag, + Uncle John, and Spot are still with us; the former will pass + the winter with me, but the others all talk of leaving before + long. The approach of winter always scatters our guests, and + we have to spend the long, dreary winters alone. But we are + to have the railroad to Mt. Jackson by Christmas, perhaps + sooner; and then, if we can raise the wind, we can spend a + portion of the winter in the city, and I hope you will find + time to come up and _spend the day_ with me, as we will be + near neighbors. I so seldom indulge in the pleasant task of + writing letters that I scarcely know what will interest my + correspondent, but I flatter myself that _you_ will be glad + to hear anything and everything about us all, so I'll begin + with the children. Hugh has improved a great deal, and is + acknowledged to be the smartest child and the finest looking + in the State; he talks as plainly as I do, and just as + understandingly as a child of ten years old; his nurse often + says we need not set our hearts on that child, he is too + smart ever to be raised; but I trust his _badness_ will save + him, for he is terribly spoilt, as such interesting children + are bound to be. Miss Eliza, no longer called _Jane_, is + getting to be a little 'star girl,' as her Papa calls her; + she is just learning to walk, and says a good many words + quite plainly. You would never take her for the same little + _cry-baby_ of last summer, and she is a little beauty too--as + white as the driven snow, with the most beautiful blue eyes, + and long, dark lashes you ever saw. She will set _somebody_ + crazy if she grows up to be as lovely as she now promises to + be. My dear good husband has been, like myself, run to death + this summer; but it agrees with him, and I never saw him + looking better. He has fallen off a little, which is a great + improvement, I think. He often speaks of you, and wonders if + you were sufficiently pleased with your visit last summer to + repeat it. I hope so, for we will always be glad to welcome + you to Rude's Hill, whenever you have time to come; provided, + of course, you have the wish also. Spot expects to hang out + his shingle in St. Louis next winter. His health is greatly + improved, though he is still very thin, and very, very much + like dear father. Mag has promised to teach a little cousin + of ours, who lives in Nelson County, until February, and will + leave here in two weeks to commence her labors. I hate to see + her leave, but she is bent on it, and our winters are so + unattractive that I do not like to insist on her shutting + herself up all winter with three old people. She will have + very pleasant society at Cousin Buller's, and will perhaps + spend the rest of the winter with Aunt Pris, if Uncle + Armistead remains in Binghampton, New York, as he talks of + doing. Do write to me before you get too busy with your fall + and winter work; I am so anxious to hear all your plans, and + about your stay in New York. By the by, I will have to + direct this to Washington, as I do not know your New York + address. I suppose your friends will forward it. If you are + going to remain any length of time in New York, send me your + address, and I will write again. * * I have somehow made out + a long letter, though there is not much in it, and I hope you + will do the same before long. _All_ send love. + + "Yours affectionately, + "N. R. G. MEEM. + + "My pen and ink are both so wretched that I fear you will + find some difficulty in making out this scratch; but _put on + your specks_, and what you can't read, just guess at. I + enclose a very poor likeness of Hugh taken last spring; don't + show it to anybody, for I assure you there is scarcely the + faintest resemblance to him now in it. + + "N. R. G. M." + +I give only a few extracts from the pleasant letter from Miss Maggie +Garland. The reader will observe that she signs herself "Your child, +Mag," an expression of love warmly appreciated by me: + + "SEDDES, Dec. 17, 1867. + + "So many months have passed, my dear Lizzie, since I was + cheered by a sight of your welcome handwriting, that I must + find out what is the matter, and see if I can't persuade you + to write me a few lines. Whatever comes, 'weal or woe,' you + know I shall always love you, and I have no idea of letting + you forget me; so just make up your mind to write me a nice + long letter, and tell me what you are doing with yourself + this cold weather. I am buried in the wilds of Amherst, and + the cold, chilling blasts of December come whistling around, + and tell us plainly that the reign of the snow-king has begun + in good earnest. Since October I have been teaching for my + cousin, Mr. Claiborne, and although I am very happy, and + every one is so kind to me, I shall not be sorry when the day + comes when I shall shut up school-books forever. None of + 'Miss Ann[e]'s' children were cut out for 'school-marms,' + were they, Yiddie? I am sure I was only made to ride in my + carriage, and play on the piano. Don't you think so? * * * + You must write me where you are, so I can stop and see you on + my way North; for you know, dear Lizzie, no one can take your + place in my heart. I expect to spend the Christmas holidays + in Lynchburg. It will be very gay there, and I will be glad + enough to take a good dance. This is a short letter to send + you after such a long silence, but 'tis too cold to write. + Let me hear from you very soon. + + "Your child MAG. + + "Please write, for I long to hear from you." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SECRET HISTORY OF MRS. LINCOLN'S WARDROBE IN NEW YORK + + +In March, 1867, Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me from Chicago that, as her +income was insufficient to meet her expenses, she would be obliged to +give up her house in the city, and return to boarding. She said that she +had struggled long enough to keep up appearances, and that the mask must +be thrown aside. "I have not the means," she wrote, "to meet the +expenses of even a first-class boarding-house, and must sell out and +secure cheap rooms at some place in the country. It will not be +startling news to you, my dear Lizzie, to learn that I must sell a +portion of my wardrobe to add to my resources, so as to enable me to +live decently, for you remember what I told you in Washington, as well +as what you understood before you left me here in Chicago. I cannot live +on $1,700 a year, and as I have many costly things which I shall never +wear, I might as well turn them into money, and thus add to my income, +and make my circumstances easier. It is humiliating to be placed in such +a position, but, as I am in the position, I must extricate myself as +best I can. Now, Lizzie, I want to ask a favor of you. It is imperative +that I should do something for my relief, and I want you to meet me in +New York, between the 30th of August and the 5th of September next, to +assist me in disposing of a portion of my wardrobe." + +I knew that Mrs. Lincoln's income was small, and also knew that she had +many valuable dresses, which could be of no value to her, packed away in +boxes and trunks. I was confident that she would never wear the dresses +again, and thought that, since her need was urgent, it would be well +enough to dispose of them quietly, and believed that New York was the +best place to transact a delicate business of the kind. She was the wife +of Abraham Lincoln, the man who had done so much for my race, and I +could refuse to do nothing for her, calculated to advance her interests. +I consented to render Mrs. Lincoln all the assistance in my power, and +many letters passed between us in regard to the best way to proceed. It +was finally arranged that I should meet her in New York about the middle +of September. While thinking over this question, I remembered an +incident of the White House. When we were packing up to leave Washington +for Chicago, she said to me, one morning: + +"Lizzie, I may see the day when I shall be obliged to sell a portion of +my wardrobe. If Congress does not do something for me, then my dresses +some day may have to go to bring food into my mouth, and the mouths of +my children." + +I also remembered of Mrs. L. having said to me at different times, in +the years of 1863 and '4, that her expensive dresses might prove of +great assistance to her some day. + +"In what way, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not understand," I ejaculated, the +first time she made the remark to me. + +"Very simple to understand. Mr. Lincoln is so generous that he will not +save anything from his salary, and I expect that we will leave the White +House poorer than when we came into it; and should such be the case, I +will have no further need for an expensive wardrobe, and it will be +policy to sell it off." + +I thought at the time that Mrs. Lincoln was borrowing trouble from the +future, and little dreamed that the event which she so dimly +foreshadowed would ever come to pass. + +I closed my business about the 10th of September, and made every +arrangement to leave Washington on the mission proposed. On the 15th of +September I received a letter from Mrs. Lincoln, postmarked Chicago, +saying that she should leave the city so as to reach New York on the +night of the 17th, and directing me to precede her to the metropolis, +and secure rooms for her at the St. Denis Hotel in the name of Mrs. +Clarke, as her visit was to be _incog._ The contents of the letter were +startling to me. I had never heard of the St. Denis, and therefore +presumed that it could not be a first-class house. And I could not +understand why Mrs. Lincoln should travel, without protection, under an +assumed name. I knew that it would be impossible for me to engage rooms +at a strange hotel for a person whom the proprietors knew nothing about. +I could not write to Mrs. Lincoln, since she would be on the road to New +York before a letter could possibly reach Chicago. I could not telegraph +her, for the business was of too delicate a character to be trusted to +the wires that would whisper the secret to every curious operator along +the line. In my embarrassment, I caught at a slender thread of hope, and +tried to derive consolation from it. I knew Mrs. Lincoln to be +indecisive about some things, and I hoped that she might change her mind +in regard to the strange programme proposed, and at the last moment +despatch me to this effect. The 16th, and then the 17th of September +passed, and no despatch reached me, so on the 18th I made all haste to +take the train for New York. After an anxious ride, I reached the city +in the evening, and when I stood alone in the streets of the great +metropolis, my heart sank within me. I was in an embarrassing situation, +and scarcely knew how to act. I did not know where the St. Denis Hotel +was, and was not certain that I should find Mrs. Lincoln there after I +should go to it. I walked up to Broadway, and got into a stage going up +town, with the intention of keeping a close look-out for the hotel in +question. A kind-looking gentleman occupied the seat next to me, and I +ventured to inquire of him: + +"If you please, sir, can you tell me where the St. Denis Hotel is?" + +"Yes; we ride past it in the stage. I will point it out to you when we +come to it." + +"Thank you, sir." + +The stage rattled up the street, and after a while the gentleman looked +out of the window and said: + +"This is the St. Denis. Do you wish to get out here?" + +"Thank you. Yes, sir." + +He pulled the strap, and the next minute I was standing on the pavement. +I pulled a bell at the ladies' entrance to the hotel, and a boy coming +to the door, I asked: + +"Is a lady by the name of Mrs. Clarke stopping here? She came last +night, I believe." + +"I do not know. I will ask at the office;" and I was left alone. + +The boy came back and said: + +"Yes, Mrs. Clarke is here. Do you want to see her?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, just walk round there. She is down here now." + +I did not know where "round there" exactly was, but I concluded to go +forward. + +I stopped, however, thinking that the lady might be in the parlor with +company; and pulling out a card, asked the boy to take it to her. She +heard me talking, and came into the hall to see herself. + +"My dear Lizzie, I am so glad to see you," she exclaimed, coming forward +and giving me her hand. "I have just received your note"--I had written +her that I should join her on the 18th--"and have been trying to get a +room for you. Your note has been here all day, but it was never +delivered until to-night. Come in here, until I find out about your +room;" and she led me into the office. + +The clerk, like all modern hotel clerks, was exquisitely arrayed, highly +perfumed, and too self-important to be obliging, or even courteous. + +"This is the woman I told you about. I want a good room for her," Mrs. +Lincoln said to the clerk. + +"We have no room for her, madam," was the pointed rejoinder. + +"But she must have a room. She is a friend of mine, and I want a room +for her adjoining mine." + +"We have no room for her on your floor." + +"That is strange, sir. I tell you that she is a friend of mine, and I am +sure you could not give a room to a more worthy person." + +"Friend of yours, or not, I tell you we have no room for her on your +floor. I can find a place for her on the fifth floor." + +"That, sir, I presume, will be a vast improvement on my room. Well, if +she goes to the fifth floor, I shall go too, sir. What is good enough +for her is good enough for me." + +"Very well, madam. Shall I give you adjoining rooms, and send your +baggage up?" + +"Yes, and have it done in a hurry. Let the boy show us up. Come, +Elizabeth," and Mrs. L. turned from the clerk with a haughty glance, and +we commenced climbing the stairs. I thought we should never reach the +top; and when we did reach the fifth story, what accommodations! Little +three-cornered rooms, scantily furnished. I never expected to see the +widow of President Lincoln in such dingy, humble quarters. + +"How provoking!" Mrs. Lincoln exclaimed, sitting down on a chair when we +had reached the top, and panting from the effects of the climbing. "I +declare, I never saw such unaccommodating people. Just to think of them +sticking us away up here in the attic. I will give them a regular going +over in the morning." + +"But you forget. They do not know you. Mrs. Lincoln would be treated +differently from Mrs. Clarke." + +"True, I do forget. Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with the +annoyances. Why did you not come to me yesterday, Lizzie? I was almost +crazy when I reached here last night, and found you had not arrived. I +sat down and wrote you a note--I felt so badly--imploring you to come to +me immediately." + +This note was afterwards sent to me from Washington. It reads as +follows: + + ST. DENIS HOTEL, BROADWAY, N.Y. + + "Wednesday, Sept. 17th. + + "MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I arrived _here_ last evening in utter + despair _at not_ finding you. I am frightened to death, being + here alone. Come, I pray you, by _next_ train. Inquire for + + "MRS. CLARKE, + "Room 94, 5th or 6th Story. + + * * * * * + + "House so crowded could not get another spot. I wrote you + especially to meet me here last evening; it makes me wild to + think of being here alone. Come by _next train_, without + fail. + + "Your friend, + "MRS. LINCOLN. + + * * * * * + + "I am booked Mrs. Clarke; inquire for _no other person_. + _Come, come, come._ I will pay your expenses when you arrive + here. I shall not leave here or change my room until you + come. + + "Your friend, M. L. + + "Do not leave this house without seeing me. + + "_Come!_" + +I transcribe the letter literally. + +In reply to Mrs. Lincoln's last question, I explained what has already +been explained to the reader, that I was in hope she would change her +mind, and knew that it would be impossible to secure the rooms requested +for a person unknown to the proprietors or attachés of the hotel. + +The explanation seemed to satisfy her. Turning to me suddenly, she +exclaimed: + +"You have not had your dinner, Lizzie, and must be hungry. I nearly +forgot about it in the joy of seeing you. You must go down to the table +right away." + +She pulled the bell-rope, and a servant appearing, she ordered him to +give me my dinner. I followed him down-stairs, and he led me into the +dining-hall, and seated me at a table in one corner of the room. I was +giving my order, when the steward came forward and gruffly said: + +"You are in the wrong room." + +"I was brought here by the waiter," I replied. + +"It makes no difference; I will find you another place where you can eat +your dinner." + +I got up from the table and followed him, and when outside of the door, +said to him: + +"It is very strange that you should permit me to be seated at the table +in the dining-room only for the sake of ordering me to leave it the next +moment." + +"Are you not Mrs. Clarke's servant?" was his abrupt question. + +"I am with Mrs. Clarke." + +"It is all the same; servants are not allowed to eat in the large +dining-room. Here, this way; you must take your dinner in the servants' +hall." + +Hungry and humiliated as I was, I was willing to follow to any place to +get my dinner, for I had been riding all day, and had not tasted a +mouthful since early morning. + +On reaching the servants' hall we found the door of the room locked. The +waiter left me standing in the passage while he went to inform the clerk +of the fact. + +In a few minutes the obsequious clerk came blustering down the hall: + +"Did you come out of the street, or from Mrs. Clarke's room?" + +"From Mrs. Clarke's room," I meekly answered. My gentle words seemed to +quiet him, and then he explained: + +"It is after the regular hour for dinner. The room is locked up, and +Annie has gone out with the key." + +My pride would not let me stand longer in the hall. + +"Very well," I remarked, as I began climbing the stairs, "I will tell +Mrs. Clarke that I cannot get any dinner." + +He looked after me, with a scowl on his face: + +"You need not put on airs! I understand the whole thing." + +I said nothing, but continued to climb the stairs, thinking to myself: +"Well, if you understand the whole thing, it is strange that you should +put the widow of ex-President Abraham Lincoln in a three-cornered room +in the attic of this miserable hotel." + +When I reached Mrs. Lincoln's rooms, tears of humiliation and vexation +were in my eyes. + +"What is the matter, Lizzie?" she asked. + +"I cannot get any dinner." + +"Cannot get any dinner! What do you mean?" + +I then told her of all that had transpired below. + +"The insolent, overbearing people!" she fiercely exclaimed. "Never mind, +Lizzie, you shall have your dinner. Put on your bonnet and shawl." + +"What for?" + +"What for! Why, we will go out of the hotel, and get you something to +eat where they know how to behave decently;" and Mrs. Lincoln already +was tying the strings of her bonnet before the glass. + +Her impulsiveness alarmed me. + +"Surely, Mrs. Lincoln, you do not intend to go out on the street +to-night?" + +"Yes I do. Do you suppose I am going to have you starve, when we can +find something to eat on every corner?" + +"But you forget. You are here as Mrs. Clarke and not as Mrs. Lincoln. +You came alone, and the people already suspect that everything is not +right. If you go outside of the hotel to-night, they will accept the +fact as evidence against you." + +"Nonsense; what do you suppose I care for what these low-bred people +think? Put on your things." + +"No, Mrs. Lincoln, I shall not go outside of the hotel to-night, for I +realize your situation, if you do not. Mrs. Lincoln has no reason to +care what these people may say about her as Mrs. Lincoln, but she should +be prudent, and give them no opportunity to say anything about her as +Mrs. Clarke." + +It was with difficulty I could convince her that she should act with +caution. She was so frank and impulsive that she never once thought that +her actions might be misconstrued. It did not occur to her that she +might order dinner to be served in my room, so I went to bed without a +mouthful to eat. + +The next morning Mrs. Lincoln knocked at my door before six o'clock: + +"Come, Elizabeth, get up, I know you must be hungry. Dress yourself +quickly and we will go out and get some breakfast. I was unable to sleep +last night for thinking of you being forced to go to bed without +anything to eat." + +I dressed myself as quickly as I could, and together we went out and +took breakfast, at a restaurant on Broadway, some place between 609 and +the St. Denis Hotel. I do not give the number, as I prefer leaving it to +conjecture. Of one thing I am certain--the proprietor of the restaurant +little dreamed who one of his guests was that morning. + +After breakfast we walked up Broadway, and entering Union Square Park, +took a seat on one of the benches under the trees, watched the children +at play, and talked over the situation. Mrs. Lincoln told me: "Lizzie, +yesterday morning I called for the _Herald_ at the breakfast table, and +on looking over the list of diamond brokers advertised, I selected the +firm of W. H. Brady & Co., 609 Broadway. After breakfast I walked down +to the house, and tried to sell them a lot of jewelry. I gave my name as +Mrs. Clarke. I first saw Mr. Judd, a member of the firm, a very pleasant +gentleman. We were unable to agree about the price. He went back into +the office, where a stout gentleman was seated at the desk, but I could +not hear what he said. [I know now what was said, and so shall the +reader, in parentheses. Mr. Brady has since told me that he remarked to +Mr. Judd that the woman must be crazy to ask such outrageous prices, +and to get rid of her as soon as possible.] Soon after Mr. Judd came +back to the counter, another gentleman, Mr. Keyes, as I have since +learned, a silent partner in the house, entered the store. He came to +the counter, and in looking over my jewelry discovered my name inside of +one of the rings. I had forgotten the ring, and when I saw him looking +at the name so earnestly, I snatched the bauble from him and put it into +my pocket. I hastily gathered up my jewelry, and started out. They asked +for my address, and I left my card, Mrs. Clarke, at the St. Denis Hotel. +They are to call to see me this forenoon, when I shall enter into +negotiations with them." + +Scarcely had we returned to the hotel when Mr. Keyes called, and Mrs. +Clarke disclosed to him that she was Mrs. Lincoln. He was much elated to +find his surmise correct. Mrs. L. exhibited to him a large number of +shawls, dresses, and fine laces, and told him that she was compelled to +sell them in order to live. He was an earnest Republican, was much +affected by her story, and denounced the ingratitude of the government +in the severest terms. She complained to him of the treatment she had +received at the St. Denis, and he advised her to move to another hotel +forthwith. She readily consented, and as she wanted to be in an +out-of-the-way place where she would not be recognized by any of her old +friends, he recommended the Earle Hotel in Canal street. + +On the way down to the hotel that morning she acceded to a suggestion +made by me, and supported by Mr. Keyes, that she confide in the +landlord, and give him her name without registering, so as to ensure the +proper respect. Unfortunately, the Earle Hotel was full, and we had to +select another place. We drove to the Union Place Hotel, where we +secured rooms for Mrs. Clarke, Mrs. Lincoln changing her mind, deeming +it would not be prudent to disclose her real name to any one. After we +had become settled in our new quarters, Messrs. Keyes and Brady called +frequently on Mrs. Lincoln, and held long conferences with her. They +advised her to pursue the course she did, and were sanguine of success. +Mrs. Lincoln was very anxious to dispose of her things, and return to +Chicago as quickly and quietly as possible; but they presented the case +in a different light, and, I regret to say, she was guided by their +counsel. "Pooh," said Mr. Brady, "place your affairs in our hands, and +we will raise you at least $100,000 in a few weeks. The people will not +permit the widow of Abraham Lincoln to suffer; they will come to her +rescue when they know she is in want." + +The argument seemed plausible, and Mrs. Lincoln quietly acceded to the +proposals of Keyes and Brady. + +We remained quietly at the Union Place Hotel for a few days. On Sunday +Mrs. Lincoln accepted the use of a private carriage, and accompanied by +me, she drove out to Central Park. We did not enjoy the ride much, as +the carriage was a close one, and we could not throw open the window for +fear of being recognized by some one of the many thousands in the Park. +Mrs. Lincoln wore a heavy veil so as to more effectually conceal her +face. We came near being run into, and we had a spasm of alarm, for an +accident would have exposed us to public gaze, and of course the +masquerade would have been at an end. On Tuesday I hunted up a number of +dealers in secondhand clothing, and had them call at the hotel by +appointment. Mrs. Lincoln soon discovered that they were hard people to +drive a bargain with, so on Thursday we got into a close carriage, +taking a bundle of dresses and shawls with us, and drove to a number of +stores on Seventh Avenue, where an attempt was made to dispose of a +portion of the wardrobe. The dealers wanted the goods for little or +nothing, and we found it a hard matter to drive a bargain with them. +Mrs. Lincoln met the dealers squarely, but all of her tact and +shrewdness failed to accomplish much. I do not care to dwell upon this +portion of my story. Let it answer to say, that we returned to the hotel +more disgusted than ever with the business in which we were engaged. +There was much curiosity at the hotel in relation to us, as our +movements were watched, and we were regarded with suspicion. Our trunks +in the main hall below were examined daily, and curiosity was more +keenly excited when the argus-eyed reporters for the press traced Mrs. +Lincoln's name on the cover of one of her trunks. The letters had been +rubbed out, but the faint outlines remained, and these outlines only +served to stimulate curiosity. Messrs. Keyes and Brady called often, and +they made Mrs. Lincoln believe that, if she would write certain letters +for them to show to prominent politicians, they could raise a large sum +of money for her. They argued that the Republican party would never +permit it to be said that the wife of Abraham Lincoln was in want; that +the leaders of the party would make heavy advances rather than have it +published to the world that Mrs. Lincoln's poverty compelled her to sell +her wardrobe. Mrs. L.'s wants were urgent, as she had to borrow $600 +from Keyes and Brady, and she was willing to adopt any scheme which +promised to place a good bank account to her credit. At different times +in her room at the Union Place Hotel she wrote the following letters: + + + CHICAGO, Sept. 18, 1867. + + "MR. BRADY, _Commission Broker, No. 609 Broadway, + New York_: + + "I have this day sent to you personal property, which I am + compelled to part with, and which you will find of + considerable value. The articles consist of four camels' hair + shawls, one lace dress and shawl, a parasol cover, a diamond + ring, two dress patterns, some furs, etc. + + "Please have them appraised, and confer by letter with me. + + Very respectfully, + "MRS. LINCOLN." + + + "CHICAGO, ----. + + "MR BRADY _No 609 Broadway, N.Y. City_ + + "**** DEAR SIR:--The articles I am sending you to dispose of + were gifts of dear friends, which only urgent necessity + compels me to part with, and I am especially anxious that + they shall not be sacrificed. + + "The circumstances are peculiar, and painfully embarrassing; + therefore I hope you will endeavor to realize as much as + possible for them. Hoping to hear from you, I remain, very + respectfully, + + "MRS. A. LINCOLN." + + + "Sept. 25, 1867. + + "W.H. BRADY, ESQ.:--My great, great sorrow and loss have made + me painfully sensitive, but as my feelings and pecuniary + comforts were never regarded or even recognized in the midst + of my overwhelming bereavement--_now_ that I am pressed in a + most startling manner for means of subsistence, I do not know + why I should shrink from an opportunity of improving my + trying position. + + "Being assured that all you do will be appropriately + executed, and in a manner that will not startle me very + greatly, and excite as little comment as possible, again I + shall leave all in your hands. + + "I am passing through a very painful ordeal, which the + country, in remembrance of my noble and devoted husband, + should have spared me. + + "I remain, with great respect, very truly, + + "MRS. LINCOLN. + + "P.S.--As you mention that my goods have been valued at over + $24,000, I will be willing to make a reduction of $8,000, and + relinquish them for $16,000. If this is not accomplished, I + will continue to sell and advertise largely until every + article is sold. + + "I must have means to live, at least in a medium comfortable + state. + + "M. L." + + +The letters are dated Chicago, and addressed to Mr. Brady, though every +one of them was written in New York; for when Mrs. L. left the West for +the East, she had settled upon no definite plan of action. Mr. Brady +proposed to show the letters to certain politicians, and ask for money +on a threat to publish them if his demands, as Mrs. Lincoln's agent, +were not complied with. When writing the letters I stood at Mrs. +Lincoln's elbow, and suggested that they be couched in the mildest +language possible. + +"Never mind, Lizzie," she said; "anything to raise the wind. One might +as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb." + +This latter expression was a favorite one of hers; she meaning by it, +that if one must be punished for an act, such as theft for instance, +that the punishment would be no more severe if a sheep were taken +instead of a lamb. + +Mr. Brady exhibited the letters quite freely, but the parties to whom +they were shown refused to make any advances. Meanwhile our stay at the +Union Place Hotel excited so much curiosity, that a sudden movement was +rendered expedient to avoid discovery. We sent the large trunks to 609 +Broadway, packed the smaller ones, paid our bills at the hotel, and one +morning hastily departed for the country, where we remained three days. +The movement was successful. The keen-eyed reporters for the daily +papers were thrown off the scent, and when we returned to the city we +took rooms at the Brandreth House, where Mrs. Lincoln registered as +"Mrs. Morris." I had desired her to go to the Metropolitan Hotel, and +confide in the proprietors, as the Messrs. Leland had always been very +kind to her, treating her with distinguished courtesy whenever she was +their guest; but this she refused to do. + +Several days passed, and Messrs. Brady and Keyes were forced to +acknowledge that their scheme was a failure. The letters had been shown +to various parties, but every one declined to act. Aside from a few +dresses sold at small prices to secondhand dealers, Mrs. Lincoln's +wardrobe was still in her possession. Her visit to New York had proved +disastrous, and she was goaded into more desperate measures. Money she +must have, and to obtain it she proposed to play a bolder game. She gave +Mr. Brady permission to place her wardrobe on exhibition for sale, and +authorized him to publish the letters in the _World_. + +After coming to this determination, she packed her trunks to return to +Chicago. I accompanied her to the depot, and told her good-by, on the +very morning that the letters appeared in the _World_. Mrs. Lincoln +wrote me the incidents of the journey, and the letter describes the +story more graphically than I could hope to do. I suppress many +passages, as they are of too confidential a nature to be given to the +public: + + "CHICAGO, October 6th. + + "My DEAR LIZZIE:--My ink is like myself and my spirits + failing, so I write you to-day with a pencil. I had a + solitary ride to this place, as you may imagine, varied by + one or two amusing incidents. I found, after you left me, I + could not continue in the car in which you left me, owing to + every seat's berth being engaged; so, being simple _Mrs. + Clarke_, I had to eat 'humble-pie' in a car less commodious. + My thoughts were too much with my 'dry goods and interests' + at 609 Broadway, to care much for my surroundings, as + uncomfortable as they were. In front of me sat a middle-aged, + gray-haired, respectable-looking gentleman, who, for the + whole morning, had the page of the _World_ before him which + contained my letters and business concerns. About four hours + before arriving at Chicago, a consequential-looking man, of + formidable size, seated himself by him, and it appears they + were entirely unknown to each other. The well-fed looking + individual opened the conversation with the man who had read + the _World_ so attentively, and the conversation soon grew + warm and earnest. The war and its devastation engaged them. + The bluffy individual, doubtless a Republican who had + pocketed his many thousands, spoke of the widows of the land, + made so by the war. My reading man remarked to him: + + "'Are you aware that Mrs. Lincoln is in indigent + circumstances, and has to sell her clothing and jewelry to + gain means to make life more endurable?' + + "The well-conditioned man replied: 'I do not blame her for + selling her clothing, if she wishes it. I suppose _when sold_ + she will convert the proceeds into five-twenties to enable + her to have means to be buried.' + + "The _World_ man turned towards him with a searching glance, + and replied, with the haughtiest manner: 'That woman is not + dead yet.' + + "The discomfited individual looked down, never spoke another + word, and in half an hour left his seat, and did not return. + + "I give you word for word as the conversation occurred. May + it be found through the execution of my friends, Messrs. + Brady and Keyes, that 'that woman is not yet dead,' and being + alive, she speaketh and gaineth valuable hearers. Such is + life! Those who have been injured, how gladly the injurer + would consign them to mother earth and forgetfulness! Hoping + I should not be recognized at Fort Wayne, I thought I would + get out at dinner for a cup of tea. * * * will show you what + a creature of _fate_ I am, as miserable as it sometimes is. I + went into the dining-room alone; and was ushered up to the + table, where, at its head, sat a very elegant-looking + gentleman--at his side a middle-aged lady. My black veil was + doubled over my face. I had taken my seat next to him--he at + the head of the table, I at his left hand. I immediately + _felt_ a pair of eyes was gazing at me. I looked him full in + the face, and the glance was earnestly returned. I sipped my + water, and said: 'Mr. S., is this indeed you?' His face was + as pale as the table-cloth. We entered into conversation, + when I asked him how long since he had left Chicago. He + replied, 'Two weeks since.' He said, 'How strange you should + be on the train and I not know it!' + + "As soon as I could escape from the table, I did so by + saying, 'I must secure a cup of tea for a lady friend with me + who has a head-ache.' I had scarcely returned to the car, + when he entered it with a cup of tea borne by his own + aristocratic hands. I was a good deal annoyed by seeing him, + and he was so agitated that he spilled half of the cup over + my _elegantly gloved_ hands. _He_ looked very sad, and I + fancied 609 Broadway occupied his thoughts. I apologized for + the absent lady who wished the cup, by saying that 'in my + absence she had slipped out for it.' His heart was in his + eyes, notwithstanding my veiled face. Pity for me, I fear, + has something to do with all this. I never saw his manner + _so_ gentle and sad. This was nearly evening, and I did not + see him again, as he returned to the lady, who was his + sister-in-law from the East. * * * What evil spirit possessed + me to go out and get that cup of tea? When he left me, + _woman-like_ I tossed the cup of tea out of the window, and + tucked my head down and shed _bitter tears_. * * At the depot + my darling little Taddie was waiting for me, and his voice + never sounded so sweet. * * * My dear Lizzie, do visit Mr. + Brady each morning at nine o'clock, and urge them all you + can. I see by the papers Stewart has returned. To-morrow I + will send the invoice of goods, which please to not give up. + How much I miss you, tongue cannot tell. Forget my fright and + nervousness of the evening before. Of course you were as + innocent as a child in all you did. I consider you my best + living friend, and I am struggling to be enabled some day to + repay you. Write me often, as you promised. + + "Always truly yours, + "M. L." + +It is not necessary for me to dwell upon the public history of Mrs. +Lincoln's unfortunate venture. The question has been discussed in all +the newspapers of the land, and these discussions are so recent that it +would be useless to introduce them in these pages, even if I had an +inclination to do so. The following, from the New York _Evening +Express_, briefly tells the story: + +"The attraction for ladies, and the curious and speculative of the other +sex in this city, just now, is the grand exposition of Lincoln dresses +at the office of Mr. Brady, on Broadway, a few doors south of Houston +street. The publicity given to the articles on exhibition and for sale +has excited the public curiosity, and hundreds of people, principally +women with considerable leisure moments at disposal, daily throng the +rooms of Mr. Brady, and give himself and his shop-woman more to do than +either bargained for, when a lady, with face concealed with a veil, +called and arranged for the sale of the superabundant clothing of a +distinguished and titled, but nameless lady. Twenty-five dresses, folded +or tossed about by frequent examinations, lie exposed upon a closed +piano, and upon a lounge; shawls rich and rare are displayed upon the +backs of chairs, but the more exacting obtain a better view and closer +inspection by the lady attendant throwing them occasionally upon her +shoulders, just to oblige, so that their appearance on promenade might +be seen and admired. Furs, laces, and jewelry are in a glass case, but +the 'four thousand dollars in gold' point outfit is kept in a +paste-board box, and only shown on special request. + +"The feeling of the majority of visitors is adverse to the course Mrs. +Lincoln has thought proper to pursue, and the criticisms are as severe +as the cavillings are persistent at the quality of some of the dresses. +These latter are labelled at Mrs. Lincoln's own estimate, and prices +range from $25 to $75--about 50 per cent less than cost. Some of them, +if not worn long, have been worn much; they are jagged under the arms +and at the bottom of the skirt, stains are on the lining, and other +objections present themselves to those who oscillate between the dresses +and dollars, 'notwithstanding they have been worn by Madam Lincoln,' as +a lady who looked from behind a pair of gold spectacles remarked. Other +dresses, however, have scarcely been worn--one, perhaps, while Mrs. +Lincoln sat for her picture, and from one the basting threads had not +yet been removed. The general testimony is that the wearing apparel is +high-priced, and some of the examiners say that the cost-figures must +have been put on by the dressmakers; or, if such was not the case, that +gold was 250 when they were purchased, and is now but 140--so that a +dress for which $150 was paid at the rate of high figures cannot be +called cheap at half that sum, after it has been worn considerable, and +perhaps passed out of fashion. The peculiarity of the dresses is that +the most of them are cut low-necked--a taste which some ladies attribute +to Mrs. Lincoln's appreciation of her own bust. + +"On Saturday last an offer was made for all the dresses. The figure +named was less than the aggregate estimate placed on them. Mr. Brady, +however, having no discretionary power, he declined to close the +bargain, but notified Mrs. Lincoln by mail. Of course, as yet, no reply +has been received. Mrs. L. desires that the auction should be deferred +till the 31st of the present month, and efforts made to dispose of the +articles at private sale up to that time. + +"A Mrs. C-- called on Mr. Brady this morning, and examined minutely each +shawl. Before leaving the lady said that, at the time when there was a +hesitancy about the President issuing the Emancipation Proclamation, she +sent to Mrs. Lincoln an ashes-of-rose shawl, which was manufactured in +China, forwarded to France, and thence to Mrs. C--, in New York. The +shawl, the lady remarked, was a very handsome one, and should it come +into the hands of Mr. Brady to be sold, would like to be made aware of +the fact, so as to obtain possession again. Mr. Brady promised to +acquaint the ashes-of-rose donor, if the prized article should be among +the two trunks of goods now on the way from Chicago." + +So many erroneous reports were circulated, that I made a correct +statement to one of the editors of the New York _Evening News_. The +article based upon the memoranda furnished by me appeared in the _News_ +of Oct. 12, 1867. I reproduce a portion of it in this connection: + +"Mrs. Lincoln feels sorely aggrieved at many of the harsh criticisms +that have been passed upon her for travelling incognito. She claims that +she adopted this course from motives of delicacy, desiring to avoid +publicity. While here, she spoke to but two former acquaintances, and +these two gentlemen whom she met on Broadway. Hundreds passed her who +had courted her good graces when she reigned supreme at the White House, +but there was no recognition. It was not because she had changed much in +personal appearance, but was merely owing to the heavy crape veil that +hid her features from view. + +"She seeks to defend her course while in this city--and with much force, +too. Adverting to the fact that the Empress of France frequently +disposes of her cast-off wardrobe, and publicly too, without being +subjected to any unkind remarks regarding its propriety, she claims the +same immunity here as is accorded in Paris to Eugenie. As regards her +obscurity while in this city, she says that foreigners of note and +position frequently come to our stores, and under assumed names travel +from point to point throughout our vast domain, to avoid recognition and +the inconveniences resulting from being known, though it even be in the +form of honors. For herself she regards quiet preferable to ostentatious +show, which would have cost her much indirectly, if not directly; and +this she felt herself unable to bear, according to the measure of her +present state of finances. + +"In a recent letter to her bosom friend, Mrs. Elizabeth Keckley, Mrs. +Lincoln pathetically remarks, 'Elizabeth, if evil come from this, pray +for my deliverance, as I did it for the best.' This referred to her +action in placing her personal effects before the public for sale, and +to the harsh remarks that have been made thereon by some whom she had +formerly regarded as her friends. + +"As to the articles which belonged to Mr. Lincoln, they can all be +accounted for in a manner satisfactory even to an over-critical public. +During the time Mr. Lincoln was in office he was the recipient of +several canes. After his death one was given to the Hon. Charles Sumner; +another to Fred. Douglass; another to the Rev. H. H. Garnet of this +city, and another to Mr. Wm. Slade, the present steward of the White +House, who, in Mr. Lincoln's lifetime, was his messenger. This +gentleman also received some of Mr. Lincoln's apparel, among which was +his heavy gray shawl. Several other of the messengers employed about the +White House came in for a share of the deceased President's effects. + +"The shepherd plaid shawl which Mr. Lincoln wore during the milder +weather, and which was rendered somewhat memorable as forming part of +his famous disguise, together with the Scotch cap, when he wended his +way secretly to the Capitol to be inaugurated as President, was given to +Dr. Abbot, of Canada, who had been one of his warmest friends. During +the war this gentleman, as a surgeon in the United States army, was in +Washington in charge of a hospital, and thus became acquainted with the +head of the nation. + +"His watch, his penknife, his gold pencil, and his glasses are now in +possession of his son Robert. Nearly all else than these few things have +passed out of the family, as Mrs. Lincoln did not wish to retain them. +But all were freely given away, and not an article was parted with for +money. + +"The Rev. Dr. Gurley of Washington was the spiritual adviser of the +President and his family. They attended his church. When little 'Willie' +died, he officiated at the funeral. He was a most intimate friend of the +family, and when Mr. Lincoln lay upon his death-bed Mr. Gurley was by +his side. He, as his clergyman, performed the funeral rites upon the +body of the deceased President, when it lay cold in death at the City of +Washington. He received the hat worn last by Mr. Lincoln, as we have +before stated, and it is still retained by him. + +"The dress that was worn by Mrs. Lincoln on the night of the +assassination was presented to Mrs. Wm. Slade. It is a black silk with a +little white stripe. Most of the other articles that adorned Mrs. +Lincoln on that fatal night became the property of Mrs. Keckley. She has +the most of them carefully stowed away, and intends keeping them during +her life as mementos of a mournful event. The principal articles among +these are the earrings, the bonnet, and the velvet cloak. The writer of +this saw the latter on Thursday. It bears most palpable marks of the +assassination, being completely bespattered with blood, that has dried +upon its surface, and which can never be removed. + +"A few words as regard the disposition and habits of Mrs. Lincoln. She +is no longer the sprightly body she was when her very presence illumed +the White House with gayety. Now she is sad and sedate, seeking +seclusion, and maintaining communication merely with her most intimate +personal friends. The most of her time she devotes to instructive +reading within the walls of her boudoir. Laying her book aside +spasmodically, she places her hand upon her forehead, as if ruminating +upon something momentous. Then her hand wanders amid her heavy tresses, +while she ponders for but a few seconds--then, by a sudden start, she +approaches her writing-stand, seizes a pen, and indites a few hasty +lines to some trusty friend, upon the troubles that weigh so heavily +upon her. Speedily it is sent to the post-office; but, hardly has the +mail departed from the city before she regrets her hasty letter, and +would give much to recall it. But, too late, it is gone, and probably +the secrets it contains are not confidentially kept by the party to whom +it was addressed, and soon it furnishes inexhaustible material for +gossip-loving people. + +"As some citizens have expressed themselves desirous of aiding Mrs. +Lincoln, a subscription-book was opened at the office of her agent, Mr. +Brady, No. 609 Broadway, this morning. There is no limitation as to the +amount which may be given, though there was a proposition that a dollar +should be contributed by each person who came forward to inspect the +goods. Had each person who handled these articles given this sum, a +handsome amount would already have been realized. + +"The colored people are moving in this matter. They intend to take up +collections in their churches for the benefit of Mrs. Lincoln. They are +enthusiastic, and a trifle from every African in this city would, in the +aggregate, swell into an immense sum, which would be doubly acceptable +to Mrs. Lincoln. It would satisfy her that the black people still have +the memory of her deceased husband fresh in their minds. + +"The goods still remain exposed to sale, but it is now announced that +they will be sold at public auction on the 30th of this month, unless +they be disposed of before that at private sale." + +It is stated in the article that the "colored people are moving in this +matter." The colored people were surprised to hear of Mrs. Lincoln's +poverty, and the news of her distress called forth strong sympathy from +their warm, generous hearts. Rev. H. H. Garnet, of New York City, and +Mr. Frederick Douglass, of Rochester, N.Y., proposed to lecture in +behalf of the widow of the lamented President, and schemes were on foot +to raise a large sum of money by contribution. The colored people +recognized Abraham Lincoln as their great friend, and they were anxious +to show their kind interest in the welfare of his family in some way +more earnest and substantial than simple words. I wrote Mrs. Lincoln +what we proposed to do, and she promptly replied, declining to receive +aid from the colored people. I showed her letter to Mr. Garnet and Mr. +Douglass, and the whole project was at once abandoned. She afterwards +consented to receive contributions from my people, but as the services +of Messrs. Douglass, Garnet, and others had been refused when first +offered, they declined to take an active part in the scheme; so nothing +was ever done. The following letters were written before Mrs. Lincoln +declined to receive aid from the colored people: + + + "183 BLEECKER ST., NEW YORK, October 16th, 1867. + "J. H. BRADY, ESQ.:-- + + "I have just received your favor, together with the + circulars. I will do all that lies in my power, but I fear + that will not be as much as you anticipate. I think, however, + that a contribution from the colored people of New York will + be worth something in a moral point of view, and likely that + will be the most that will be accomplished in the + undertaking. I am thoroughly with you in the work, although + but little may be done. + + "I am truly yours, + "HENRY HIGHLAND GARNET. + + "P.S.--I think it would be well if you would drop a line to + Mr. Frederick Douglass, at Rochester, New York. + + "H. H. G." + + + "ROCHESTER, Oct. 18, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--You judge me rightly--I am willing to + do what I can to place the widow of our martyr President in + the affluent position which her relation to that good man and + to the country entitles her to. But I doubt the wisdom of + getting up a series of lectures for that purpose; that is + just the last thing that should be done. Still, if the thing + is done, it should be done on a grand scale. The best + speakers in the country should be secured for the purpose. + You should not place me at the head nor at the foot of the + list, but sandwich me between, for thus out of the way, it + would not give _color_ to the idea. I am to speak in Newark + on Wednesday evening next, and will endeavor to see you on + the subject. Of course, if it would not be too much to ask, I + would gladly see Mrs. Lincoln, if this could be done in a + quiet way without the reporters getting hold of it, and using + it in some way to the prejudice of that already much abused + lady. As I shall see you soon, there is less reason to write + you at length. + + "I am, dear madam, + "With high respect, + "Very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + + "POTTSVILLE, Oct. 29, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--You know the drift of my views + concerning the subscription for Mrs. Lincoln. Yet I wish to + place them more distinctly before you, so that, if you have + occasion to refer to me in connection with the matter, you + can do so with accuracy and certainty. + + "It is due Mrs. Lincoln that she should be indemnified, as + far as money can do so, for the loss of her beloved husband. + Honor, gratitude, and a manly sympathy, all say yes to this. + I am willing to go farther than this, and say that Mrs. + Lincoln herself should be the judge of the amount which shall + be deemed sufficient, believing that she would not transcend + reasonable limits. The obligation resting on the nation at + large is great and increasing, but especially does it become + colored men to recognize that obligation. It was the hand of + Abraham Lincoln that broke the fetters of our enslaved + people, and let them out of the house of bondage. When he + was slain, our great benefactor fell, and left his wife and + children to the care of those for whom he gave up all. Shame + on the man or woman who, under such circumstances, would + grudge a few paltry dollars, to smooth the pathway of such a + widow! All this, and more, I feel and believe. But such is + the condition of this question, owing to party feeling, and + personal animosities now mixed up with it, that we are + compelled to consider these in the effort we are making to + obtain subscriptions. + + "Now, about the meeting in Cooper Institute; I hold that that + meeting should only be held in concert with other movements. + It is bad generalship to put into the field only a fraction + of your army when you have no means to prevent their being + cut to pieces. It is gallant to go forth single-handed, but + is it wise? I want to see something more than the spiteful + _Herald_ behind me when I step forward in this cause at the + Cooper Institute. Let Mr. Brady out with his circulars, with + his list of commanding names, let the _Herald_ and _Tribune_ + give a united blast upon their bugles, let the city be + placarded, and the doors of Cooper Institute be flung wide + open, and the people, without regard to party, come up to the + discharge of this national duty. + + "Don't let the cause be made ridiculous by failure at the + outset. Mr. Garnet and I could bear any mortification of this + kind; but the cause could not. And our cause must not be + damaged by any such generalship, which would place us in the + van unsupported. + + "I shall be at home by Saturday; please write me and let me + know how matters are proceeding. Show this letter to Messrs. + Brady and Garnet. + + "I am, dear madam, + "Very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + + "ROCHESTER, Oct. 30, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--It is just possible that I may not + take New York in my route homeward. In that case please write + me directly at Rochester, and let me know fully how the + subscription business is proceeding. The meeting here last + night was a grand success. I speak again this evening, and + perhaps at Reading tomorrow evening. My kind regards to all + who think of me at 21, including Mrs. Lawrence. + + "Very truly yours, + "FREDK. DOUGLASS." + + + "ROCHESTER, Nov. 10, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--I very easily read your handwriting. + With practice you will not only write legibly but elegantly; + so no more apologies for _bad_ writing. Penmanship has always + been one of my own deficiencies, and I know how to sympathize + with you. + + "I am just home, and find your letter awaiting me. You should + have received an earlier answer but for this absence. I am + sorry it will be impossible for me to see you before I go to + Washington. I am leaving home this week for Ohio, and shall + go from Ohio to Washington. I shall be in New York a day or + two after my visit to Washington, and will see you there. Any + public demonstration in which it will be desirable for me to + take part, ought to come off the last of this month or the + first of next. I thank you sincerely for the note containing + a published letter of dear Mrs. Lincoln; both letters do + credit to the excellent lady. I prize her beautiful letter to + me very highly. It is the letter of a refined and spirited + lady, let the world say what it will of her. I would write + her a word of acknowledgment but for fear to burden her with + correspondence. I am glad that Mr. Garnet and yourself saw + Mr. Greeley, and that he takes the right view of the matter; + but we want more than right views, and delay is death to the + movement. What you now want is action and cooperation. If Mr. + Brady does not for any reason find himself able to move the + machinery, somebody else should be found to take his place; + he made a good impression on me when I saw him, but I have + not seen the promised simultaneous movement of which we spoke + when together. This whole thing should be in the hands of + some recognized solid man in New York. No man would be better + than Mr. Greeley; no man in the State is more laughed at, and + yet no man is more respected and trusted; a dollar placed in + his hands would be as safe for the purpose as in a + burglar-proof safe, and what is better still, everybody + believes this. This testimonial must be more than a negro + testimonial. It is a great national duty. Mr. Lincoln did + everything for the black man, but he did it not for the black + man's sake, but for the nation's sake. His life was given for + the nation; but for being President, Mr. Lincoln would have + been alive, and Mrs. Lincoln would have been a wife, and not + a widow as now. Do all you can, dear Mrs. Keckley--nobody can + do more than you in removing the mountains of prejudice + towards that good lady, and opening the way of success in the + plan. + + "I am, dear madam, very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + +Many persons called at 609 Broadway to examine Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe, +but as curiosity prompted each visit, but few articles were sold. +Messrs. Brady & Keyes were not very energetic, and, as will be seen by +the letters of Mrs. Lincoln, published in the Appendix, that lady +ultimately lost all confidence in them. It was proposed to send +circulars, stating Mrs. Lincoln's wants, and appealing to the generosity +of the people for aid, broad-cast over the country; but the scheme +failed. Messrs. Brady & Keyes were unable to obtain the names of +prominent men, whom the people had confidence in, for the circular, to +give character and responsibility to the movement--so the whole thing +was abandoned. With the Rev. Mr. Garnet, I called on Mr. Greeley, at the +office of the _Tribune_, in connection with this scheme. Mr. Greeley +received us kindly, and listened patiently to our proposals--then said: + +"I shall take pleasure in rendering you what assistance I can, but the +movement must be engineered by responsible parties. Messrs. Brady & +Keyes are not the men to be at the head of it. Nobody knows who they +are, or what they are. Place the matter in the hands of those that the +people know and have some confidence in, and then there will be a chance +for success." + +We thanked Mr. Greeley for his advice, for we believed it to be good +advice, and bowed ourselves out of his room. When Messrs. Brady & Keyes +were informed of the result of our interview, they became very much +excited, and denounced Mr. Greeley as "an old fool." This put an end to +the circular movement. The enterprise was nipped in the bud, and with +the bud withered Mrs. Lincoln's last hope for success. A portion of the +wardrobe was then taken to Providence, to be exhibited, but without her +consent. Mr. Brady remarked that the exhibition would bring in money, +and as money must be raised, this was the last resort. He was of the +impression that Mrs. Lincoln would approve of any movement, so it ended +in success. This, at least, is a charitable view to take of the subject. +Had the exhibition succeeded in Providence, it is my opinion that the +agents of Brady & Keyes would now be travelling over the country, +exposing Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe to the view of the curious, at so much +per head. As is well known, the city authorities refused to allow the +exhibition to take place in Providence; therefore Mr. Brady returned to +New York with the goods, and the travelling show scheme, like the +circular scheme, was abandoned. Weeks lengthened into months, and at +Mrs. Lincoln's urgent request I remained in New York, to look after her +interests. When she left the city I engaged quiet lodgings in a private +family, where I remained about two months, when I moved to 14 Carroll +Place, and became one of the regular boarders of the house. Mrs. +Lincoln's venture proved so disastrous that she was unable to reward me +for my services, and I was compelled to take in sewing to pay for my +daily bread. My New York expedition has made me richer in experience, +but poorer in purse. During the entire winter I have worked early and +late, and practised the closest economy. Mrs. Lincoln's business +demanded much of my time, and it was a constant source of trouble to me. +When Mrs. L. left for the West, I expected to be able to return to +Washington in one week from the day; but unforeseen difficulties arose, +and I have been detained in the city for several months. As I am writing +the concluding pages of this book, I have succeeded in closing up Mrs. +Lincoln's imprudent business arrangement at 609 Broadway. The firm of +Brady & Keyes is dissolved, and Mr. Keyes has adjusted the account. The +story is told in a few words. On the 4th of March I received the +following invoice from Mr. Keyes: + +"March 4, '68. + +"_Invoice of articles sent to Mrs. A. Lincoln:_ + + 1 Trunk. + 1 Lace dress. + 1 do. do. flounced. + 5 Lace shawls. + 3 Camel hair shawls. + 1 Lace parasol cover. + 1 do. handkerchief. + 1 Sable boa. + 1 White do. + 1 Set furs. + 2 Paisley shawls. + 2 Gold bracelets. + 16 Dresses. + 2 Opera cloaks. + 1 Purple shawl. + 1 Feather cape. + 28 yds. silk. + +ARTICLES SOLD. + + 1 Diamond ring. + 3 Small do. + 1 Set furs. + 1 Camel hair shawl. + 1 Red do. + 2 Dresses. + 1 Child's shawl. + 1 Lace Chantilly shawl." + +The charges of the firm amounted to eight hundred dollars. Mrs. Lincoln +sent me a check for this amount. I handed this check to Mr. Keyes, and +he gave me the following receipt: + + "Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, + eight hundred and twenty dollars by draft on American National + Bank, New York. + + "S. C. KEYES." + +I packed the articles invoiced, and expressed the trunks to Mrs. +Lincoln at Chicago. I then demanded and received a receipt worded as +follows: + + "Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, + eight hundred and twenty dollars in full of all demands of + every kind up to date. + + "S. C. KEYES." + +This closed up the business, and with it I close the imperfect story of +my somewhat romantic life. I have experienced many ups and downs, but +still am stout of heart. The labor of a lifetime has brought me nothing +in a pecuniary way. I have worked hard, but fortune, fickle dame, has +not smiled upon me. If poverty did not weigh me down as it does, I would +not now be toiling by day with my needle, and writing by night, in the +plain little room on the fourth floor of No. 14 Carroll Place. And yet I +have learned to love the garret-like room. Here, with Mrs. Amelia +Lancaster as my only companion, I have spent many pleasant hours, as +well as sad ones, and every chair looks like an old friend. In memory I +have travelled through the shadows and the sunshine of the past, and the +bare walls are associated with the visions that have come to me from the +long-ago. As I love the children of memory, so I love every article in +this room, for each has become a part of memory itself. Though poor in +worldly goods, I am rich in friendships, and friends are a recompense +for all the woes of the darkest pages of life. For sweet friendship's +sake, I can bear more burdens than I have borne. + +The letters appended from Mrs. Lincoln to myself throw a flood of light +upon the history of the "old clothes" speculation in New York. + + + + +APPENDIX + +LETTERS FROM MRS. LINCOLN TO MRS. KECKLEY. + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday Morning, Oct. 6. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am writing this morning with a broken heart after a +sleepless night of great mental suffering. R. came up last evening like +a maniac, and almost threatening his life, looking like death, because +the letters of the _World_ were published in yesterday's paper. I could +not refrain from weeping when I saw him so miserable. But yet, my dear +good Lizzie, was it not to protect myself and help others--and was not +my motive and action of the purest kind? Pray for me that this cup of +affliction may pass from me, or be sanctified to me. I weep whilst I am +writing. * * * * I pray for death this morning. Only my darling Taddie +prevents my taking my life. I shall have to endure a round of newspaper +abuse from the Republicans because I dared venture to relieve a few of +my wants. Tell Mr. Brady and Keyes not to have a line of mine once more +in print. I am nearly losing my reason. + + "Your friend, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Oct. 8. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Bowed down with suffering and anguish, again I write +you. As we might have expected, the Republicans are falsifying me, and +doing _just_ as they did when they prevented the Congressional +appropriation. Mrs. ---- knows something about these same people. As her +husband is _living_ they dare not utter all they would desire to speak. +You know yourself how innocently I have acted, and from the best and +purest motives. They will _howl_ on to prevent my disposing of my +things. What a _vile, vile_ set they are! The _Tribune_ here, Mr. +White's paper, wrote a very beautiful editorial yesterday in my behalf; +yet knowing that I have been deprived of my rights by the party, I +suppose I would be _mobbed_ if I ventured out. What a world of anguish +this is--and how I have been made to suffer! * * * You would not +recognize me now. The glass shows me a pale, wretched, haggard face, and +my dresses are like bags on me. And all because I was doing what I felt +to be my duty. Our minister, Mr. Swazey, called on me yesterday and said +I had done perfectly right. Mrs. F-- says every one speaks in the same +way. The politicians, knowing they have deprived me of my just rights, +would prefer to see me starve, rather than dispose of my things. They +will prevent the sale of anything, so I have telegraphed for them. I +hope you have received from B. the letters I have consigned to his care. +See to this. Show none of them. Write me every day. + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Wednesday, October 9th. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--It appears as if the fiends had let loose, for the +Republican papers are tearing me to pieces in this border ruffian West. +If I had committed murder in every city in this _blessed_ Union, I could +not be more traduced. And you know how innocent I have been of the +intention of doing wrong. A piece in the morning _Tribune_, signed 'B,' +pretending to be a lady, says there is no doubt Mrs. L.--_is_ +deranged--has been for years past, and will end her life in a lunatic +asylum. They would doubtless like me to begin it _now_. Mr. S., a very +kind, sympathizing minister, has been with me this morning, and has now +gone to see Mr. Medill, of the _Tribune_, to know if _he_ sanctioned his +paper publishing such an article. * * * Pray for me, dear Lizzie, for I +am very miserable and broken-hearted. Since writing this, I have just +received a letter from Mr. Keyes, begging and pleading with me to allow +them to use my name for donations. I think I will consent. * * + + "Truly yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday, Oct. 13. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am greatly disappointed, having only received one +letter from you since we parted, which was dated the day after. Day +after day I sent to Mrs. F. for letters. After your promise of writing +to me every other day, I can scarcely understand it. I hope to-morrow +will bring me a letter from you. How much I miss you cannot be +expressed. I hope you have arrived safely in Washington, and will tell +me everything. * * * Was there ever such cruel newspaper abuse lavished +upon an unoffending woman as has been showered upon my devoted head? The +people of this ungrateful country are like the 'dogs in the manger;' +will neither do anything themselves, nor allow me to improve my own +condition. What a Government we have! All their abuse lavished upon me +only lowers themselves in the estimation of all true-hearted people. The +Springfield _Journal_ had an editorial a few days since, with the +important information that Mrs. Lincoln had been known to be _deranged_ +for years, and should be _pitied_ for all her _strange acts_. I should +have been _all right_ if I had allowed _them_ to take possession of the +White House. In the comfortable stealings by contracts from the +Government, these low creatures are allowed to hurl their malicious +wrath at me, with no one to defend me or protect me, if I should starve. +These people injure themselves far more than they could do me, by their +lies and villany. Their aim is to prevent my goods being sold, or +anything being done for me. _In this_, I very much fear, they have +succeeded. + +"Write me, my dear friend, your candid opinion about everything. I +wished to be made better off, quite as much to improve your condition as +well as for myself. * * * Two weeks ago, dear Lizzie, we were in that +_den_ of discomfort and dirt. _Now_ we are far asunder. Every other day, +for the past week, I have had a chill, brought on by excitement and +suffering of mind. In the midst of it I have moved into my winter +quarters, and am now very comfortably situated. My parlor and bedroom +are very sweetly furnished. I am lodged in a handsome house, a very +kind, good, _quiet_ family, and their meals are excellent. I consider +myself fortunate in all this. I feel assured that the Republicans, who, +to cover up their own perfidy and neglect, have used every villanous +falsehood in their power to injure me--I fear they have _more_ than +succeeded, but if their day of reckoning does not come in this world, it +_will surely_ in the next. * * * * + +"_Saturday._--I have determined to shed no more tears over all their +cruel falsehoods, yet, just now, I feel almost forsaken by God and +man--except by the _latter_ to be vilified. Write me all that Keyes and +Brady think of the result. For myself, after _such_ abuse, I _expect_ +nothing. Oh! that I could see you. Write me, dear Lizzie, if only a +line; I cannot understand your silence. Hereafter direct your letters to +Mrs. A. Lincoln, 460 West Washington street, Chicago, Ill., care of D. +Cole. Remember 460. I am always so anxious to hear from you, I am +feeling so _friendless_ in the world. I remain always your affectionate +friend. + + M. L." + + +POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER OF OCT. 24. + +"I cannot send this letter off without writing you two little incidents +that have occurred within the past week. We may call it _justice_ +rendered for _evil words_, to say the least. There is a paper published +in Chicago called the _Republican_, owned and published by Springfield +men. Each morning since my return it has been thrown at my door, filled +with abuse of myself. Four days ago a piece appeared in it, asking 'What +right had Mrs. L. to diamonds and laces?' Yesterday morning an article +appeared in the same paper, announcing that the day previous, at the +house of Mr. Bunn (the owner of the paper), in Springfield, +Illinois--the house had been entered at 11 in the morning, by burglars, +and had been robbed of _five_ diamond rings, and a quantity of fine +laces. This morning's paper announces the recovery of these articles. +Mr. Bunn, who made his hundreds of thousands off our government, is +running this paper, and denouncing the wife of the man from whom he +obtained his means. I enclose you the article about the recovery of the +goods. A few years ago he had a _small grocery_ in S----. These facts +can be authenticated. Another case in point: The evening I left my house +to come here, the young daughter of one of my neighbors in the same +block, was in a house not a square off, and in a childish manner was +regretting that I could not retain my house. The man in the house said: +'Why waste your tears and regrets on Mrs. Lincoln?' An hour afterward +the husband and wife went out to make a call, doubtless to gossip about +me; on their return they found their young boy had almost blinded +himself with gunpowder. Who will say that the cry of the 'widow and +fatherless' is disregarded in _His_ sight! If man is not merciful, God +will be in his own time. + + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, October 29. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I received a very pleasant note from Mr. F. Douglass +on yesterday. I will reply to it this morning, and enclose it to you to +hand or send him immediately. In this morning's _Tribune_ there was a +little article _evidently_ designed to make capital _against_ me just +now--that _three_ of my brothers were in the Southern army during the +war. If they had been friendly with me they might have said they were +_half_ brothers of Mrs. L., whom she had not known since they were +infants; and as she left Kentucky at an early age her sympathies were +entirely Republican--that her feelings were entirely with the North +during the war, and always. I never failed to urge my husband to be an +_extreme_ Republican, and now, in the day of my trouble, you see how +_this_ very party is trying to work against me. Tell Mr. Douglass, and +every one, how deeply my feelings were enlisted in the cause of freedom. +Why _harp_ upon these _half_ brothers, whom I never knew since they were +infants, and scarcely then, for my early home was truly at a _boarding_ +school. Write to him all this, and talk it to every one else. If we +succeed I will soon send you enough for a very large supply of trimming +material for the winter. + + Truly, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 2nd. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letter of last Wednesday is received, and I +cannot refrain from expressing my surprise that before now K. and B. did +not go out in _search_ of names, and have sent forth all those +circulars. Their conduct is becoming mysterious. We have heard enough of +_their talk_--it is time now they should be _acting_. Their delay, I +fear, has ruined the business. The circulars should all have been out +before the _election_. I cannot understand their slowness. As Mr. +Greeley's home is in New York, he could certainly have been found had he +_been sought_; and there are plenty of other good men in New York, as +well as himself. I venture to say, that _before_ the election not a +circular will be sent out. I begin to think they are making a political +business of _my clothes_, and not for _my_ benefit either. Their delay +in acting is becoming very suspicious. Their slow, bad management is +_ruining_ every prospect of success. I fear you are only losing your +time in New York, and that I shall be left _in debt_ for what I am owing +the firm. I have written to K. and B., and they do nothing that I +request. I want neither Mr. Douglass nor Garnet to lecture in my behalf. +The conduct in New York is disgusting me with the whole business. I +cannot understand what they have been about. Their delay has only given +the enemies time to _gather_ strength; what does it all mean? Of course +give the lady at 609 permission to sell the dresses cheaper. * * * I am +feeling wretchedly over the slowness and _do-nothing_ style of B. & K. I +believe in my heart I am being used as a tool for party purposes; and +they do not design sending out a circular. * * * + + "Your friend, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 9, 1867. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--* * * Did you receive a letter a few days since, with +one enclosed for F. Douglass? also a printed letter of mine, which I +wished him to read? Do write me every other day at least, I am so +_nervous and miserable_. And Lizzie, dear, I fear we have not the +_least_ chance of success. _Do_ remain in New York a little longer, and +occupy yourself with the sewing of your friends. _Then_ I shall be able +to learn _some_thing about my business. In _your heart_ you know there +will be no success. _Why_ do you not candidly express yourself to me? +Write me, if only a few lines, and that very frequently. R. called up on +yesterday, with Judge Davis. * * * R. goes with Judge D. on Tuesday, to +settle the estate, which will give us each about $25,000, with the +income I told you of, $1,700 a year for each of us. You made a mistake +about my house costing $2,700--it was $1,700. The $22,000 Congress gave +me I spent for house and furniture, which, owing to the smallness of my +income, I was obliged to leave. I mention about the division of the +estate to you, dear Lizzie, because when it is done the _papers_ will +harp upon it. You can explain everything in New York; please do so to +every one. Please see H. G., if it should come out in the papers. I had +hoped, if something was gained, to have immediately placed _you_ in more +pleasant circumstances. Do urge F. D. to add his name to the circular; +also get them to have Beecher's. There must not be an hour's delay in +this. R. is very spiteful at present, and I think hurries up the +division to _cross_ my purposes. He mentioned yesterday that he was +going to the Rocky Mountains so soon as Edgar Welles joined him. He is +very _deep_. * * * Write me, _do_, when you receive this. Your silence +pains me. + + "Truly yours, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, NOV. 9. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I closed and sent off my letter before I had finished +all I had to say. Do not hint to K. or B., or any one else, my doubts of +them, _only watch them_. As to S. so many falsehoods are told in the +papers that all the stuff about his wife and himself may be untrue. I +hope it may prove so. I received a letter from Keyes this morning. I +believe I wrote you that I had. How hard it is that I cannot see and +talk with you in this time of great, _great_ trouble. I feel as if I had +not a friend in the world save yourself. * * I sometimes wish myself out +of this world of sorrow and care. I fear my fine articles at B.'s are +getting pulled to pieces and soiled. I do not wish you to leave N.Y. +without having the finest articles packed up and returned to me. The +_single_ white camel's hair shawl and the two Paisleys I wish returned +to me, if none of them are sold. Do you think there is the least chance +of _their_ being sold? I will give you a list of the articles I wish +returned to me from Mr. Brady's before _you leave_ New York for +Washington. + + "1 Camel's hair shawl, double black centre. + 1 Camel's hair shawl, double white centre. + 1 Single white camel's hair shawl. + 2 Paisley shawls--white. + 1 Pair bracelets and diamond ring. + 1 Fine lace handkerchief. + 3 Black lace shawls. + 2 Black lama shawls. + 1 Dress, silk unmade, white and black. + 1 White boa. + 1 Russian sable boa. + 1 Russian sable cape. + 1 A. sable cape, cuffs and muff. + 1 Chinchilla set. + +"The lace dress, flounce, and shawl, if there is no possibility of their +being sold. Also all other fine articles return me, save the dresses +which, with prices lowered, may be sold. * * + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 15, '67. + +"MY DEAR KECKLEY;--Your last letter has been received, and believe me, I +duly appreciate your great interest in my affairs. I hope the day _may_ +arrive when I can return your kindness in _more_ than words. As you are +aware of my beloved husband's great indulgence to me in pecuniary +matters, thereby allowing me to indulge in bestowing favors on those +whom I considered worthy of it, it is in this respect I feel chiefly the +humiliation of my small circumscribed income. If Congress, or the +Nation, had given me the four years' salary, I should have been able to +live as the widow of the great President Lincoln should, with sufficient +means to give liberally to all benevolent objects, and at my death +should have left at least half of it to the freedmen, for the liberty of +whom his precious sacred life was sacrificed. The men who prevented +_this_ being done by their villanous unscrupulous falsehoods, are no +friends of the colored race, and, as you well know, have led Johnson on +in his wicked course. + +"'_God is just_,' and the day of retribution will come to all such, if +not in this world, in the great hereafter, to which those hoary-headed +sinners are so rapidly hastening, with an innocent conscience. I did not +feel it necessary to raise my weak woman's voice against the +persecutions that have assailed me emanating from the tongues of such +men as Weed & Co. I have felt that their infamous false lives was a +sufficient vindication of my character. They have never forgiven me for +standing between my pure and noble husband and themselves, when, for +their own vile purposes, they would have led him into error. _All this_ +the country knows, and why should I dwell longer on it? In the blissful +home where my worshipped husband dwells God is ever merciful, and it is +the consolation of my broken heart that my darling husband is ever +retaining the devoted love which he always so abundantly manifested for +his wife and children in this life. I feel assured his watchful, loving +eyes are always watching over us, and he is fully aware of the wrong and +injustice permitted his family by a country he lost his life in +protecting. I write earnestly, because I feel very deeply. It appears to +me a very remarkable coincidence, that most of the good feeling +regarding my straitened circumstances proceeds from the colored people, +in whose cause my noble husband was so largely interested. Whether we +are successful or not, Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet will always have +my most grateful thanks. They are very noble men. If any _favorable_ +results should crown their efforts, you may well believe at my death, +whatever sum it may be, will be bequeathed to the colored people, who +are very near my heart. In yesterday's paper it was announced that Gov. +Andrew's family were having $100,000 contributed to them. Gov. A. was a +good man, but what did _he_ do compared to President Lincoln? Right and +left the latter gave, when he had but little to bestow, and in +consequence his family are now feeling it; yet for my life I would not +recall a dollar he ever gave. Yet his favorite expression, when I have +playfully alluded to the 'rainy day' that might be in store for _himself +and his own_ on several occasions, he has looked at me so earnestly and +replied, 'Cast your bread upon the waters.' Although the petty sum of +$22,000 was an insufficient return for Congress to make me, and +allowanced to its meagreness by men who traduced and vilified the loved +wife of the great man who _made them_, and from whom they amassed great +fortunes--for _Weed, and Seward, and R._ did this last. And yet, _all +this_ was permitted by an American people, who owed _their_ remaining a +nation to my husband! I have dwelt too long on this painful subject, but +when I have been compelled from a pitiful income to make a +boarding-house of my home, as I now am doing, think you that it does +not rankle in my heart? + +"Fortunately, with my husband's great, great love for me--the knowledge +of this future for his petted and idolized wife was spared him, and yet +I feel in my heart _he_ knows it all. Mr. Sumner, the intimate friend of +better days, called to see me two or three weeks since--he who had been +an habitué of the White House--both the rooms of the President and my +own reception-room, in either place he was always sure of a heartfelt +welcome; my present situation must have struck a painful chord in his +noble, sympathizing heart. And yet, when I endeavored to ameliorate my +condition, the cry has been so fearful against me as to cause me to +forget my own identity, and suppose I had plundered the nation, indeed, +and committed murder. This, certainly, cannot be America, 'the land of +the _free_,' the 'home of the _brave_.' The evening before Mr. Sumner's +last call I had received Mr. Douglass's letter; I mentioned the +circumstance to Mr. Sumner, who replied: 'Mr. Frederick Douglass is a +very noble, talented man, and I know of no one who writes a more +beautiful letter.' I am sending you a long letter, Lizzie, but I rely a +great deal on your indulgence. My fear is that you will not be able to +decipher the scrawl written so hastily. + + "I remain, truly yours, + "MARY LINCOLN." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 17. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--By the time you receive this note, you will doubtless +find the papers _raving_ over the large income which we are each _said_ +to have. Knowing exactly the amount we each will have, which I have +already informed you, I was going to say, I have been shocked at the +_fabulous_ sum set down to each, but I have learned not to be surprised +at anything. Of course it is gotten up to defeat success. _You_ will +_now_ see the necessity for those circulars being issued weeks since. I +enclose you a scrap from yesterday's _Times_ of C., marked No. 1; also +No. 2, to-day's _Times_. The sum of $11,000 has been subtracted in +twenty-four hours from the same paper. If it continues for a few days +longer, it will soon be right. It is a secesh paper--says Congress gave +me $25,000 as a _present_, besides $20,000 of remaining salary. The +$25,000 _you_ know to be utterly false. You can show this note to B. & +K., also the scraps sent. Let no one see them but themselves, and then +burn them. It is all just as I expected--that when the division took +place, a 'mountain would be made of a mole-hill.' And I fear it will +succeed in injuring the premeditated plans. If the _war rages_, the +_Evening News_ might simply say that the sum assigned each was false, +that $75,000 was the sum the administrator, Judge Davis, filed his bonds +for. But by all means _my authority_ must not be given. And then the +_Evening News_ can descant on the $25,000 each, with income of $1,700 +each, and Mrs. Lincoln's share, she not being able to touch any of her +sons' portion. My _word_ or _testimony_ must not appear in the article; +only the paper must speak _decidedly_. It must be managed very +judiciously, and without a day's delay. + + "Yours truly, + "M. L." + + +"Nov 17--(Private for yourself). + +"LIZZIE:--Show the note enclosed with this to B. & K.; do not let them +retain it an instant after reading, nor the printed articles. I knew +these falsehoods would be circulated when the estate was divided. What +_has_ been the cause of the delay about the circulars? I fear, between +ourselves, we have reason to distrust those men,----. Whatever is raised +by the colored people, I solemnly give my word, at my death it shall +_all_, every cent, be returned to them. And out of the sum, if it is +$50,000, _you_ shall have $5,000 at my death; and I cannot live long, +suffering as I am now doing. If $25,000 is raised by your people, you +shall have the sum at my death; and in either event, the $25,000 raised, +or $50,000, I will give you $300 a year, and the promised sum at my +death. It will make your life easier. I have more faith in F.D.'s and +G.'s efforts, than in B. & K., I assure you. This division has been +trumped up just now through spite. * * I have written to Judge Davis for +an exact statement, which I will send to you when received. Write if +any thing is doing. * * * + + "Truly, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, November 21. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letter of Tuesday is just received. I have just +written B. a note of thanks for his kindness; also requesting the +articles of which I gave you a list. Do see Keyes about it; K. will have +it done. And will you _see_ that they are forwarded to _me_ before _you_ +leave New York? K. sent me a telegram on yesterday that eight names were +on the circulars, and that they would be sent out _immediately_. What +success do you think they will have? By all means assure K. & B. I have +great confidence in them. These circulars must bring some money. Your +letter made me quite sad. Talk to K. & B. of the _grateful feelings_ I +express towards them. Do pet up B., and see my things returned to me. +Can you not, dear Lizzie, be employed in sewing for some of your lady +friends in New York until December 1st? If I _ever_ get any money you +will be well remembered, be assured. R. and a party of young men leave +for the Rocky Mountains next Monday, to be absent three weeks. If the +circulars are sent out, of course the _blasts_ will be blown over again. +So R. is out of the way _at the time_, and money comes in, I will not +care. Write the hour you receive this. I hope they will send out 150,000 +circulars. Urge K. & B. to do this. + + "Your friend, + "M. L." + + +"Saturday Morning, November 23d. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Although I am suffering with a fearful headache +to-day, yet, as your note of Wednesday is received, I must write. I am +grieved to find that you are so wretchedly low-spirited. * * * On +Wednesday, the 20th of November, K. sent me the telegram I send you. If +he is not in earnest, what does it mean? What is the rate of expenses +that B. has gone to in my business, that he dares to withhold my immense +amount of goods? Do you believe they _intend_ sending out those +circulars? Of course you will be well rewarded if we have any success, +but as to $500 'now,' I have it not for myself, or any one else. Pray, +what does B. propose to charge for _his expenses_? I pray God there will +be some success, although, dear Lizzie, entirely between ourselves, I +fear I am in villanous hands. As to money, I haven't it for myself just +now, even if nothing comes in. When I get my things back, if ever, +from----, I will send you some of those dresses to dispose of at +Washington for your own benefit. If we get something, you will find that +_promises_ and performance for _this_ life will be forth-coming. * * * * +It is _mysterious_ why B. NEVER writes, and K. _once_, perhaps, in three +weeks. All this is very strange. * * + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday, Nov. 24th. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I wrote you on yesterday and am aware it was not a +pleasant letter, although I wrote what I fear will turn out to be +_truths_. It will be two weeks to-morrow since the legally attested +consent from me was received by B. and K., and yet _names_ have not been +obtained for it, when last heard from. * * However, we will soon see for +ourselves. If you and I are honest in our motives and intentions, it is +no reason _all_ the world is so. * * * If I should gain nothing +pecuniarily by the loud cry that has been made over my affairs, it has +been a losing game indeed. * * * * And the laugh of the world will be +against me if it turns out as I _now_ think; there is no doubt it will +be _all_ failure. If they had issued those circulars when they should +have done, before the election, then it would have been all right. Alas! +alas! what a mistake it has all been! I have thought seriously over the +whole business, and know what I am about. I am grateful for the sympathy +of Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet. I see that F. D. is advertised to +lecture in Chicago some time this winter. Tell him, for me, he must call +and see me; give him my number. If I had been able to retain a house, I +should have offered him apartments when he came to C.; as it is, I have +to content _myself_ with lodgings. An ungrateful country this! I very +much fear the malignity of Seward, Weed, and R. will operate in Congress +the coming winter, and that I will be denounced _there_, with their +infamous and villanous falsehoods. The father of wickedness and lies +will get those men when they 'pass away;' and such fiends as they are, +always linger in this mortal sphere. The agitation of mind has very much +impaired my health. * * * * Why, why was not I taken when my darling +husband was called from my side? I have been allowed no rest by those +who, in my desolation, should have protected me. * * * * How dearly I +should love to see you _this very sad day_. Never, dear Lizzie, think of +my great nervousness the night before we parted; I had been so harassed +with my fears. * * * * + + "Always yours, + "M. L." + + +"December 26. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letters just received. I have just written to K. +to withdraw the C. Go to him yourself the moment you receive this. The +idea of Congress doing anything is ridiculous. How much ---- could +effect _if he chose_, through others. Go to B. & K. the moment you +receive this. + + "Yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, December 27. + +"DEAR LIZZIE:--I wrote you a few lines on yesterday. I have twice +written to Mr. K. to have the C. stopped. Go and see him on the subject. +I believe any more newspaper attacks would _lay me low_ * * * As +_influence_ has passed away from me with my husband, my slightest act is +misinterpreted. '_Time makes all things_ right.' I am positively +suffering for a decent dress. I see Mr. A. and _some recent_ visitors +eyeing my clothing askance. * * Do send my black merino dress to me very +soon; I must dress better in the future. I tremble at the bill that B. & +K. may send me, I am so illy prepared to meet any expense. All my +articles not sold must be sent to me. I leave _this_ place _early_ in +the spring; had you better not go with me and share my fortunes, for a +year or more? * * Write. + + "Yours, etc., + M. L." + + +"CLIFTON HOUSE, January 12. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your last letter was received a day or two since. I +have moved my quarters to _this house_, so please direct all your +letters _here_. Why did _you_ not urge them _not_ to take my goods to +Providence? For heaven's sake see K. & B. when you receive this, and +have them immediately returned to me, _with their bill_. I am so +miserable I feel like taking my own life. My darling boy, my Taddie +_alone_, I _fully_ believe, prevents the deed. Your letter announcing +that my clothes[C] were to be paraded in Europe--those I gave you--has +almost turned me wild. R. would go _raving distracted_ if such a thing +was done. If you have the _least regard_ for our reason, pray write to +the bishop that it _must_ not be done. How little did I suppose you +would do _such a thing_; you cannot imagine how much my overwhelming +sorrows would be increased. May kind Heaven turn your heart, and have +you write that _this_ exhibition must not be attempted. R. would blast +us all if you were to have this project carried out. Do remember _us_ in +our unmitigated anguish, and have those clothes, worn on those fearful +occasions, recalled. * * I am positively dying with a broken heart, and +the probability is that I shall be living but a _very_ short time. May +we all meet in a better world, where _such grief_ is unknown. Write me +all about yourself. I should like you to have about four black widow's +caps, just such as I had made in the fall in New York, sent to me. * * * +Of course you would not suppose, if I had you come out here and work for +me six weeks, I would not pay your expenses and pay you as you made +_each_ dress. The probability is that I shall need _few_ more clothes; +my rest, I am inclined to believe, is _near at hand_. Go to B. & K., and +have my clothes sent me without further publicity. * * * I am feeling +too weak to write more to-day. Why are you so silent? For the sake of +_humanity_, if not _me_ and my children, _do not_ have those black +clothes displayed in Europe. The thought has almost whitened every hair +of my head. Write when you receive this. + + "Your friend, + M. L." + +FOOTNOTE: + + [Footnote C: The clothes that I have given for the benefit of + Wilberforce College. They have been deeded to Bishop Payne, + who will do with them as he thinks best, for the cause to + which they are dedicated. The letter on page 366 will explain + more fully.] + + +"NEW YORK CITY, Jan. 1st, 1868. + +"BISHOP PAYNE, D.D.--DEAR SIR:--Allow me to donate certain valuable +relics, to be exhibited for the benefit of Wilberforce University, where +my son was educated, and whose life was sacrificed for liberty. These +sacred relics were presented to me by Mrs. Lincoln, after the +assassination of our beloved President. Learning that you were +struggling to get means to complete the college that was burned on the +day our great emancipator was assassinated, prompted me to donate, in +trust to J. P. Ball (agent for Wilberforce College), the identical cloak +and bonnet worn by Mrs. Lincoln on that eventful night. On the cloak can +be seen the life-blood of Abraham Lincoln. This cloak could not be +purchased from me, though many have been the offers for it. I deemed it +too _sacred_ to sell, but donate it for the cause of educating the four +millions of slaves liberated by our President, whose private character I +revere. You well know that I had every chance to learn the true man, +being constantly in the White House during his whole administration. I +also donate the glove[D] worn on his precious hand at the last inaugural +reception. This glove bears the marks of thousands who shook his hand on +that last and great occasion. This, and many other relics, I hope you +will receive in the name of the Lincoln fund. I also donate the dress +worn by Mrs. Lincoln at the last inaugural address of President Lincoln. +Please receive these from-- + + Your sister in Christ, + "L. KECKLEY." + +FOOTNOTE: + + [Footnote D: I have since concluded to retain the glove as a + precious _souvenir_ of our beloved President.] + + +"CLIFTON HOUSE, Jan. 15, 1868. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--You will think I am sending you a deluge of letters. I +am so very sad today, that I feel that I must write you. I went out last +evening with Tad, on a little business, in a street car, heavily veiled, +very imprudently having _my month's living_ in my pocket-book--and, on +return, found it gone. The loss I deserve for being so careless, but it +comes very hard on poor me. Troubles and misfortunes are fast +overwhelming me; may _the end_ soon come. I lost $82, and quite a new +pocket-book. I am very, very anxious about that bill B. & K. may bring +in. Do go, dear Lizzie, and implore them to be moderate, for I am in a +very narrow place. Tell them, I pray you, of this last loss. As they +have not been successful (BETWEEN OURSELVES), and only given me great +sorrow and trouble, I think their demand should be very small. (Do not +mention this to them.) _Do_, dear Lizzie, go to 609, and talk to them on +this subject. Let my things be sent to me immediately, and _do_ see to +it, that nothing is left behind. I can afford to lose nothing they have +had placed in their hands. I am literally suffering for my black dress. +Will you send it to me when you receive this? I am looking very shabby. +I hope you have entirely recovered. _Write_ when you receive this. + + "Very truly yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Feb. 7. + +"MR. BRADY:--I hereby authorize Mrs. Keckley to request my bill from +you; also my goods. An exact account must be given of everything, and +all goods unsold returned to me. Pray hand Mrs. Keckley my bill, without +fail, immediately. + + "Respectfully, + "MRS. LINCOLN." + + +"SATURDAY, Feb. 29. + +"DEAR LIZZIE:--I am only able to sit up long enough to write you a line +and enclose this check to Mr. K. Give it to him when he gives you up my +goods, and require from him an exact inventory of them. I will write you +to-morrow. The hour you receive this go to him, get my goods, and do +not _give him the check until_ you get the goods, and be sure you get a +receipt for the check from him. * * In his account given ten days since, +he said we had borrowed $807; now he writes for $820. Ask him what this +means, and get him to deduct the $13. I cannot understand it. A letter +received from K. this morning says if the check is not received the +first of the week, my goods _will be sold_ so do delay not an hour to +see him. * * My diamond ring he writes has been sold; the goods sold +have amounted to $824, and they appropriate all this for their expenses. +A precious set, truly. My diamond ring itself cost more than that sum, +and I charged them not to sell it under $700. Do get my things safely +returned to me. * * * + + "Truly, + "M. L." + + + * * * * * + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Behind the Scenes, by Elizabeth Keckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + +***** This file should be named 24968-8.txt or 24968-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/6/24968/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Behind the Scenes + or, Thirty years a slave, and Four Years in the White House + +Author: Elizabeth Keckley + +Release Date: March 31, 2008 [EBook #24968] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>BEHIND THE SCENES.</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ELIZABETH KECKLEY,</h2> + +<p class="center"><b>FORMERLY A SLAVE, BUT MORE RECENTLY MODISTE, AND FRIEND TO MRS.<br /> +ABRAHAM LINCOLN.</b><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center"><b>OR,</b></p> + +<h2>THIRTY YEARS A SLAVE, AND FOUR YEARS IN<br /> +THE WHITE HOUSE.<br /><br /><br /><br /></h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 78px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="78" height="50" alt="logo" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"><big>NEW YORK:<br /> +<i>G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers.</i></big><br /> +<small>M DCCC LXVIII.</small> +</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Preface</span> </td><td class="tdc"><a href="#PREFACE">3</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter I.</span> Where I was born</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">7</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter II.</span> Girlhood and its Sorrows</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">13</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter III.</span> How I gained my Freedom</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">19</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV.</span> In the Family of Senator Jefferson Davis</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">28</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter V.</span> My Introduction to Mrs. Lincoln</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">34</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI.</span> Willie Lincoln's Death-bed</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">41</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII.</span> Washington in 1862-3</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">50</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter VIII.</span> Candid Opinions</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">57</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter IX.</span> Behind the Scenes</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">62</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter X.</span> The Second Inauguration</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">68</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter XI.</span> The Assassination of President Lincoln</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">77</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter XII.</span> Mrs. Lincoln leaves the White House</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">89</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIII.</span> The Origin of the Rivalry between Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincoln</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">101</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIV.</span> Old Friends</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">106</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Chapter XV.</span> The Secret History of Mrs. Lincoln's Wardrobe in New York</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">119</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdb"><span class="smcap">Appendix</span> --Letters from Mrs. Lincoln to Mrs. Keckley</td><td class="tdc"><a href="#APPENDIX">147</a></td></tr> + +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>I have often been asked to write my life, as those who know me know that +it has been an eventful one. At last I have acceded to the importunities +of my friends, and have hastily sketched some of the striking incidents +that go to make up my history. My life, so full of romance, may sound +like a dream to the matter-of-fact reader, nevertheless everything I +have written is strictly true; much has been omitted, but nothing has +been exaggerated. In writing as I have done, I am well aware that I have +invited criticism; but before the critic judges harshly, let my +explanation be carefully read and weighed. If I have portrayed the dark +side of slavery, I also have painted the bright side. The good that I +have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the +evil that I have said of it. I have kind, true-hearted friends in the +South as well as in the North, and I would not wound those Southern +friends by sweeping condemnation, simply because I was once a slave. +They were not so much responsible for the curse under which I was born, +as the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the +United States. The law descended to them, and it was but natural that +they should recognize it, since it manifestly was their interest to do +so. And yet a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of +my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have +been human had I not rebelled against the robbery. God rules the +Universe. I was a feeble instrument in His hands, and through me and the +enslaved millions of my race, one of the problems was solved that +belongs to the great problem of human destiny; and the solution was +developed so gradually that there was no great convulsion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> of the +harmonies of natural laws. A solemn truth was thrown to the surface, and +what is better still, it was recognized as a truth by those who give +force to moral laws. An act may be wrong, but unless the ruling power +recognizes the wrong, it is useless to hope for a correction of it. +Principles may be right, but they are not established within an hour. +The masses are slow to reason, and each principle, to acquire moral +force, must come to us from the fire of the crucible; the fire may +inflict unjust punishment, but then it purifies and renders stronger the +principle, not in itself, but in the eyes of those who arrogate judgment +to themselves. When the war of the Revolution established the +independence of the American colonies, an evil was perpetuated, slavery +was more firmly established; and since the evil had been planted, it +must pass through certain stages before it could be eradicated. In fact, +we give but little thought to the plant of evil until it grows to such +monstrous proportions that it overshadows important interests; then the +efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of the victims of slavery I +drank of the bitter water; but then, since destiny willed it so, and +since I aided in bringing a solemn truth to the surface <i>as a truth</i>, +perhaps I have no right to complain. Here, as in all things pertaining +to life, I can afford to be charitable.</p> + +<p>It may be charged that I have written too freely on some questions, +especially in regard to Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think so; at least I have +been prompted by the purest motive. Mrs. Lincoln, by her own acts, +forced herself into notoriety. She stepped beyond the formal lines which +hedge about a private life, and invited public criticism. The people +have judged her harshly, and no woman was ever more traduced in the +public prints of the country. The people knew nothing of the secret +history of her transactions, therefore they judged her by what was +thrown to the surface. For an act may be wrong judged purely by itself, +but when the motive that prompted the act is understood, it is construed +differently. I lay it down as an axiom, that only that is criminal in +the sight of God where crime is meditated. Mrs. Lincoln may have been +imprudent, but since her intentions were good, she should be judged more +kindly than she has been. But the world do not know what her inten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>tions +were; they have only been made acquainted with her acts without knowing +what feeling guided her actions. If the world are to judge her as I have +judged her, they must be introduced to the secret history of her +transactions. The veil of mystery must be drawn aside; the origin of a +fact must be brought to light with the naked fact itself. If I have +betrayed confidence in anything I have published, it has been to place +Mrs. Lincoln in a better light before the world. A breach of trust—if +breach it can be called—of this kind is always excusable. My own +character, as well as the character of Mrs. Lincoln, is at stake, since +I have been intimately associated with that lady in the most eventful +periods of her life. I have been her confidante, and if evil charges are +laid at her door, they also must be laid at mine, since I have been a +party to all her movements. To defend myself I must defend the lady that +I have served. The world have judged Mrs. Lincoln by the facts which +float upon the surface, and through her have partially judged me, and +the only way to convince them that wrong was not meditated is to explain +the motives that actuated us. I have written nothing that can place Mrs. +Lincoln in a worse light before the world than the light in which she +now stands, therefore the secret history that I publish can do her no +harm. I have excluded everything of a personal character from her +letters; the extracts introduced only refer to public men, and are such +as to throw light upon her unfortunate adventure in New York. These +letters were not written for publication, for which reason they are all +the more valuable; they are the frank overflowings of the heart, the +outcropping of impulse, the key to genuine motives. They prove the +motive to have been pure, and if they shall help to stifle the voice of +calumny, I am content. I do not forget, before the public journals +vilified Mrs. Lincoln, that ladies who moved in the Washington circle in +which she moved, freely canvassed her character among themselves. They +gloated over many a tale of scandal that grew out of gossip in their own +circle. If these ladies, could say everything bad of the wife of the +President, why should I not be permitted to lay her secret history bare, +especially when that history plainly shows that her life, like all +lives, has its good side as well as its bad side! None of us are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +perfect, for which reason we should heed the voice of charity when it +whispers in our ears, "Do not magnify the imperfections of others." Had +Mrs. Lincoln's acts never become public property, I should not have +published to the world the secret chapters of her life. I am not the +special champion of the widow of our lamented President; the reader of +the pages which follow will discover that I have written with the utmost +frankness in regard to her—have exposed her faults as well as given her +credit for honest motives. I wish the world to judge her as she is, free +from the exaggerations of praise or scandal, since I have been +associated with her in so many things that have provoked hostile +criticism; and the judgment that the world may pass upon her, I flatter +myself, will present my own actions in a better light.</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth Keckley.</span></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">14 Carroll Place, New York,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">March 14, 1868.</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<h2>WHERE I WAS BORN</h2> + + +<p>My life has been an eventful one. I was born a slave—was the child of +slave parents—therefore I came upon the earth free in God-like thought, +but fettered in action. My birthplace was Dinwiddie Court-House, in +Virginia. My recollections of childhood are distinct, perhaps for the +reason that many stirring incidents are associated with that period. I +am now on the shady side of forty, and as I sit alone in my room the +brain is busy, and a rapidly moving panorama brings scene after scene +before me, some pleasant and others sad; and when I thus greet old +familiar faces, I often find myself wondering if I am not living the +past over again. The visions are so terribly distinct that I almost +imagine them to be real. Hour after hour I sit while the scenes are +being shifted; and as I gaze upon the panorama of the past, I realize +how crowded with incidents my life has been. Every day seems like a +romance within itself, and the years grow into ponderous volumes. As I +cannot condense, I must omit many strange passages in my history. From +such a wilderness of events it is difficult to make a selection, but as +I am not writing altogether the history of myself, I will confine my +story to the most important incidents which I believe influenced the +moulding of my character. As I glance over the crowded sea of the past, +these incidents stand forth prominently, the guide-posts of memory. I +presume that I must have been four years old when I first began to +remember; at least, I cannot now recall anything occurring previous to +this period. My master, Col. A. Burwell, was somewhat unsettled in his +business affairs, and while I was yet an infant he made several +removals. While living at Hampton Sidney College, Prince Edward County, +Va., Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> Burwell gave birth to a daughter, a sweet, black-eyed baby, +my earliest and fondest pet. To take care of this baby was my first +duty. True, I was but a child myself—only four years old—but then I +had been raised in a hardy school—had been taught to rely upon myself, +and to prepare myself to render assistance to others. The lesson was not +a bitter one, for I was too young to indulge in philosophy, and the +precepts that I then treasured and practised I believe developed those +principles of character which have enabled me to triumph over so many +difficulties. Notwithstanding all the wrongs that slavery heaped upon +me, I can bless it for one thing—youth's important lesson of +self-reliance. The baby was named Elizabeth, and it was pleasant to me +to be assigned a duty in connection with it, for the discharge of that +duty transferred me from the rude cabin to the household of my master. +My simple attire was a short dress and a little white apron. My old +mistress encouraged me in rocking the cradle, by telling me that if I +would watch over the baby well, keep the flies out of its face, and not +let it cry, I should be its little maid. This was a golden promise, and +I required no better inducement for the faithful performance of my task. +I began to rock the cradle most industriously, when lo! out pitched +little pet on the floor. I instantly cried out, "Oh! the baby is on the +floor;" and, not knowing what to do, I seized the fire-shovel in my +perplexity, and was trying to shovel up my tender charge, when my +mistress called to me to let the child alone, and then ordered that I be +taken out and lashed for my carelessness. The blows were not +administered with a light hand, I assure you, and doubtless the severity +of the lashing has made me remember the incident so well. This was the +first time I was punished in this cruel way, but not the last. The +black-eyed baby that I called my pet grew into a self-willed girl, and +in after years was the cause of much trouble to me. I grew strong and +healthy, and, notwithstanding I knit socks and attended to various kinds +of work, I was repeatedly told, when even fourteen years old, that I +would never be worth my salt. When I was eight, Mr. Burwell's family +consisted of six sons and four daughters, with a large family of +servants. My mother was kind and forbearing; Mrs. Burwell a hard +task-master; and as mother had so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> work to do in making clothes, +etc., for the family, besides the slaves, I determined to render her all +the assistance in my power, and in rendering her such assistance my +young energies were taxed to the utmost. I was my mother's only child, +which made her love for me all the stronger. I did not know much of my +father, for he was the slave of another man, and when Mr. Burwell moved +from Dinwiddie he was separated from us, and only allowed to visit my +mother twice a year—during the Easter holidays and Christmas. At last +Mr. Burwell determined to reward my mother, by making an arrangement +with the owner of my father, by which the separation of my parents could +be brought to an end. It was a bright day, indeed, for my mother when it +was announced that my father was coming to live with us. The old weary +look faded from her face, and she worked as if her heart was in every +task. But the golden days did not last long. The radiant dream faded all +too soon.</p> + +<p>In the morning my father called me to him and kissed me, then held me +out at arms' length as if he were regarding his child with pride. "She +is growing into a large fine girl," he remarked to my mother. "I dun no +which I like best, you or Lizzie, as both are so dear to me." My +mother's name was Agnes, and my father delighted to call me his "Little +Lizzie." While yet my father and mother were speaking hopefully, +joyfully of the future, Mr. Burwell came to the cabin, with a letter in +his hand. He was a kind master in some things, and as gently as possible +informed my parents that they must part; for in two hours my father must +join his master at Dinwiddie, and go with him to the West, where he had +determined to make his future home. The announcement fell upon the +little circle in that rude-log cabin like a thunderbolt. I can remember +the scene as if it were but yesterday;—how my father cried out against +the cruel separation; his last kiss; his wild straining of my mother to +his bosom; the solemn prayer to Heaven; the tears and sobs—the fearful +anguish of broken hearts. The last kiss, the last good-by; and he, my +father, was gone, gone forever. The shadow eclipsed the sunshine, and +love brought despair. The parting was eternal. The cloud had no silver +lining, but I trust that it will be all silver in heaven. We who are +crushed to earth with heavy chains,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> who travel a weary, rugged, thorny +road, groping through midnight darkness on earth, earn our right to +enjoy the sunshine in the great hereafter. At the grave, at least, we +should be permitted to lay our burdens down, that a new world, a world +of brightness, may open to us. The light that is denied us here should +grow into a flood of effulgence beyond the dark, mysterious shadows of +death. Deep as was the distress of my mother in parting with my father, +her sorrow did not screen her from insult. My old mistress said to her: +"Stop your nonsense; there is no necessity for you putting on airs. Your +husband is not the only slave that has been sold from his family, and +you are not the only one that has had to part. There are plenty more men +about here, and if you want a husband so badly, stop your crying and go +and find another." To these unfeeling words my mother made no reply. She +turned away in stoical silence, with a curl of that loathing scorn upon +her lips which swelled in her heart.</p> + +<p>My father and mother never met again in this world. They kept up a +regular correspondence for years, and the most precious mementoes of my +existence are the faded old letters that he wrote, full of love, and +always hoping that the future would bring brighter days. In nearly every +letter is a message for me. "Tell my darling little Lizzie," he writes, +"to be a good girl, and to learn her book. Kiss her for me, and tell her +that I will come to see her some day." Thus he wrote time and again, but +he never came. He lived in hope, but died without ever seeing his wife +and child.</p> + +<p>I note a few extracts from one of my father's letters to my mother, +following copy literally:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +"SHELBYVILE, Sept. 6, 1833.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent">"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Agnes Hobbs</span></p> + +<p class="noindent">"Dear Wife: My dear biloved wife I am more than glad to meet +with opportun[i]ty writee thes few lines to you by my +Mistress who ar now about starterng to virginia, and sevl +others of my old friends are with her; in compeney Mrs. Ann +Rus the wife of master Thos Rus and Dan Woodiard and his +family and I am very sorry that I havn the chance to go with +them as I feele<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> Determid to see you If life last again. I am +now here and out at this pleace so I am not abble to get of +at this time. I am write well and hearty and all the rest of +masters family. I heard this eveng by Mistress that ar just +from theree all sends love to you and all my old frends. I am +a living in a town called Shelbyville and I have wrote a +greate many letters since Ive beene here and almost been +reeady to my selfe that its out of the question to write any +more at tall: my dear wife I dont feeld no whys like giving +out writing to you as yet and I hope when you get this letter +that you be Inncougege to write me a letter. I am well +satisfied at my living at this place I am a making money for +my own benifit and I hope that its to yours also If I live to +see Nexct year I shall heve my own time from master by giving +him 100 and twenty Dollars a year and I thinke I shall be +doing good bisness at that and heve something more thean all +that. I hope with gods helpe that I may be abble to rejoys +with you on the earth and In heaven lets meet when will I am +detemnid to nuver stope praying, not in this earth and I hope +to praise god In glory there weel meet to part no more +forever. So my dear wife I hope to meet you In paradase to +prase god forever * * * * * I want Elizabeth to be a good +girl and not to thinke that becasue I am bound so fare that +gods not abble to open the way * * * *</p> + +<p class="author"> +"<span class="smcap">George Pleasant</span>,<br /> +"<i>Hobbs a servant of Grum</i>."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>The last letter that my mother received from my father was dated +Shelbyville, Tennessee, March 20, 1839. He writes in a cheerful strain, +and hopes to see her soon. Alas! he looked forward to a meeting in vain. +Year after year the one great hope swelled in his heart, but the hope +was only realized beyond the dark portals of the grave.</p> + +<p>When I was about seven years old I witnessed, for the first time, the +sale of a human being. We were living at Prince Edward, in Virginia, and +master had just purchased his hogs for the winter, for which he was +unable to pay in full. To escape from his embarrassment it was necessary +to sell one of the slaves. Little Joe, the son of the cook, was selected +as the victim. His mother was ordered to dress him up in his Sunday +clothes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> and send him to the house. He came in with a bright face, was +placed in the scales, and was sold, like the hogs, at so much per pound. +His mother was kept in ignorance of the transaction, but her suspicions +were aroused. When her son started for Petersburgh in the wagon, the +truth began to dawn upon her mind, and she pleaded piteously that her +boy should not be taken from her; but master quieted her by telling her +that he was simply going to town with the wagon, and would be back in +the morning. Morning came, but little Joe did not return to his mother. +Morning after morning passed, and the mother went down to the grave +without ever seeing her child again. One day she was whipped for +grieving for her lost boy. Colonel Burwell never liked to see one of his +slaves wear a sorrowful face, and those who offended in this particular +way were always punished. Alas! the sunny face of the slave is not +always an indication of sunshine in the heart. Colonel Burwell at one +time owned about seventy slaves, all of which were sold, and in a +majority of instances wives were separated from husbands and children +from their parents. Slavery in the Border States forty years ago was +different from what it was twenty years ago. Time seemed to soften the +hearts of master and mistress, and to insure kinder and more humane +treatment to bondsmen and bondswomen. When I was quite a child, an +incident occurred which my mother afterward impressed more strongly on +my mind. One of my uncles, a slave of Colonel Burwell, lost a pair of +ploughlines, and when the loss was made known the master gave him a new +pair, and told him that if he did not take care of them he would punish +him severely. In a few weeks the second pair of lines was stolen, and my +uncle hung himself rather than meet the displeasure of his master. My +mother went to the spring in the morning for a pail of water, and on +looking up into the willow tree which shaded the bubbling crystal +stream, she discovered the lifeless form of her brother suspended +beneath one of the strong branches. Rather than be punished the way +Colonel Burwell punished his servants, he took his own life. Slavery had +its dark side as well as its bright side.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<h2>GIRLHOOD AND ITS SORROWS</h2> + + +<p>I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I +was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son, +a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with +a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life. +She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with +contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their +only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me, +so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the +benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three +servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years +passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew +into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed +from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell +took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to +practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the +village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he +was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress +seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and +Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually +kind to me; he was naturally a good-hearted man, but was influenced by +his wife. It was Saturday evening, and while I was bending over the bed, +watching the baby that I had just hushed into slumber, Mr. Bingham came +to the door and asked me to go with him to his study. Wondering what he +meant by his strange request, I followed him, and when we had entered +the study he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> closed the door, and in his blunt way remarked: "Lizzie, I +am going to flog you." I was thunderstruck, and tried to think if I had +been remiss in anything. I could not recollect of doing anything to +deserve punishment, and with surprise exclaimed: "Whip me, Mr. Bingham! +what for?"</p> + +<p>"No matter," he replied, "I am going to whip you, so take down your +dress this instant."</p> + +<p>Recollect, I was eighteen years of age, was a woman fully developed, and +yet this man coolly bade me take down my dress. I drew myself up +proudly, firmly, and said: "No, Mr. Bingham, I shall not take down my +dress before you. Moreover, you shall not whip me unless you prove the +stronger. Nobody has a right to whip me but my own master, and nobody +shall do so if I can prevent it."</p> + +<p>My words seemed to exasperate him. He seized a rope, caught me roughly, +and tried to tie me. I resisted with all my strength, but he was the +stronger of the two, and after a hard struggle succeeded in binding my +hands and tearing my dress from my back. Then he picked up a rawhide, +and began to ply it freely over my shoulders. With steady hand and +practised eye he would raise the instrument of torture, nerve himself +for a blow, and with fearful force the rawhide descended upon the +quivering flesh. It cut the skin, raised great welts, and the warm blood +trickled down my back. Oh God! I can feel the torture now—the terrible, +excruciating agony of those moments. I did not scream; I was too proud +to let my tormentor know what I was suffering. I closed my lips firmly, +that not even a groan might escape from them, and I stood like a statue +while the keen lash cut deep into my flesh. As soon as I was released, +stunned with pain, bruised and bleeding, I went home and rushed into the +presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Robert, +why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be +so punished?"</p> + +<p>"Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me."</p> + +<p>I would not be put off thus. "What <i>have</i> I done? I <i>will</i> know why I +have been flogged."</p> + +<p>I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his +feet, and on my refusing to go without an explana<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>tion, seized a chair, +struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead +with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I +could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I +was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled +against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I +tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to +me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more calm, and I believe +that I could then have forgiven everything for the sake of one kind +word. But the kind word was not proffered, and it may be possible that I +grew somewhat wayward and sullen. Though I had faults, I know now, as I +felt then, harshness was the poorest inducement for the correction of +them. It seems that Mr. Bingham had pledged himself to Mrs. Burwell to +subdue what he called my "stubborn pride." On Friday following the +Saturday on which I was so savagely beaten, Mr. Bingham again directed +me come to his study. I went, but with the determination to offer +resistance should he attempt to flog me again. On entering the room I +found him prepared with a new rope and a new cowhide. I told him that I +was ready to die, but that he could not conquer me. In struggling with +him I bit his finger severely, when he seized a heavy stick and beat me +with it in a shameful manner. Again I went home sore and bleeding, but +with pride as strong and defiant as ever. The following Thursday Mr. +Bingham again tried to conquer me, but in vain. We struggled, and he +struck me many savage blows. As I stood bleeding before him, nearly +exhausted with his efforts, he burst into tears, and declared that it +would be a sin to beat me any more. My suffering at last subdued his +hard heart; he asked my forgiveness, and afterwards was an altered man. +He was never known to strike one of his servants from that day forward. +Mr. Burwell, he who preached the love of Heaven, who glorified the +precepts and examples of Christ, who expounded the Holy Scriptures +Sabbath after Sabbath from the pulpit, when Mr. Bingham refused to whip +me any more, was urged by his wife to punish me himself. One morning he +went to the wood-pile, took an oak broom, cut the handle off, and with +this heavy handle attempted to conquer me. I fought him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> but he proved +the strongest. At the sight of my bleeding form, his wife fell upon her +knees and begged him to desist. My distress even touched her cold, +jealous heart. I was so badly bruised that I was unable to leave my bed +for five days. I will not dwell upon the bitter anguish of these hours, +for even the thought of them now makes me shudder. The Rev. Mr. Burwell +was not yet satisfied. He resolved to make another attempt to subdue my +proud, rebellious spirit—made the attempt and again failed, when he +told me, with an air of penitence, that he should never strike me +another blow; and faithfully he kept his word. These revolting scenes +created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and +neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had +conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit +upon them.</p> + +<p>The savage efforts to subdue my pride were not the only things that +brought me suffering and deep mortification during my residence at +Hillsboro'. I was regarded as fair-looking for one of my race, and for +four years a white man—I spare the world his name—had base designs +upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is +fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four +years, and I—I—became a mother. The child of which he was the father +was the only child that I ever brought into the world. If my poor boy +ever suffered any humiliating pangs on account of birth, he could not +blame his mother, for God knows that she did not wish to give him life; +he must blame the edicts of that society which deemed it no crime to +undermine the virtue of girls in my then position.</p> + +<p>Among the old letters preserved by my mother I find the following, +written by myself while at Hillsboro'. In this connection I desire to +state that Rev. Robert Burwell is now living<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> at Charlotte, North +Carolina:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +"HILLSBORO', April 10, 1838.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR MOTHER:—I have been intending to write to you for a +long time, but numerous things have prevented, and for that +reason you must excuse me.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I thought very hard of you for not writing to me, but hope +that you will answer this letter as soon as you receive it, +and tell me how you like Marsfield, and if you have seen any +of old acquaintances, or if you yet know any of the +brick-house people who I think so much of. I want to hear of +the family at home very much, indeed. I really believe you +and all the family have forgotten me, if not I certainly +should have heard from some of you since you left Boyton, if +it was only a line; nevertheless I love you all very dearly, +and shall, although I may never see you again, nor do I ever +expect to. Miss Anna is going to Petersburgh next winter, but +she says that she does not intend take me; what reason she +has for leaving me I cannot tell. I have often wished that I +lived where I knew I never could see you, for then I would +not have my hopes raised, and to be disappointed in this +manner; however, it is said that a bad beginning makes a good +ending, but I hardly expect to see that happy day at this +place. Give my love to all the family, both white and black. +I was very much obliged to you for the presents you sent me +last summer, though it is quite late in the day to be +thanking for them. Tell Aunt Bella that I was very much +obliged to her for her present; I have been so particular +with it that I have only worn it once.</p> + +<p>"There have been six weddings since October; the most +respectable one was about a fortnight ago; I was asked to be +the first attendant, but, as usual with all my expectations, +I was disappointed, for on the wedding-day I felt more like +being locked up in a three-cornered box than attending a +wedding. About a week before Christmas I was bridesmaid for +Ann Nash; when the night came I was in quite a trouble; I did +not know whether my frock was clean or dirty; I only had a +week's notice, and the body and sleeves to make, and only one +hour every night to work on it, so you can see with these +troubles to overcome my chance was rather slim. I must now +close, although I could fill ten pages with my griefs and +misfortunes; no tongue could express them as I feel; don't +forget me though; and answer my letters soon. I will write +you again, and would write more now, but Miss Anna says it is +time I had finished. Tell Miss Elizabeth that I wish she +would make haste and get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> married, for mistress says that I +belong to her when she gets married.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would send me a pretty frock this summer; if you +will send it to Mrs. Robertson's Miss Bet will send it to me.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, darling mother.</p> + +<p > +"Your affectionate daughter,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"ELIZABETH HOBBS."</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[Footnote A]</span></a> March, 1868.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<h2>HOW I GAINED MY FREEDOM</h2> + + +<p>The years passed and brought many changes to me, but on these I will not +dwell, as I wish to hasten to the most interesting part of my story. My +troubles in North Carolina were brought to an end by my unexpected +return to Virginia, where I lived with Mr. Garland, who had married Miss +Ann[e] Burwell, one of my old master's daughters. His life was not a +prosperous one, and after struggling with the world for several years he +left his native State, a disappointed man. He moved to St. Louis, hoping +to improve his fortune in the West; but ill luck followed him there, and +he seemed to be unable to escape from the influence of the evil star of +his destiny. When his family, myself included, joined him in his new +home on the banks of the Mississippi, we found him so poor that he was +unable to pay the dues on a letter advertised as in the post-office for +him. The necessities of the family were so great, that it was proposed +to place my mother out at service. The idea was shocking to me. Every +gray hair in her old head was dear to me, and I could not bear the +thought of her going to work for strangers. She had been raised in the +family, had watched the growth of each child from infancy to maturity; +they had been the objects of her kindest care, and she was wound round +about them as the vine winds itself about the rugged oak. They had been +the central figures in her dream of life—a dream beautiful to her, +since she had basked in the sunshine of no other. And now they proposed +to destroy each tendril of affection, to cloud the sunshine of her +existence when the day was drawing to a close, when the shadows of +solemn night were rapidly approaching. My mother, my poor aged mother, +go among strangers to toil for a living! No,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> a thousand times no! I +would rather work my fingers to the bone, bend over my sewing till the +film of blindness gathered in my eyes; nay, even beg from street to +street. I told Mr. Garland so, and he gave me permission to see what I +could do. I was fortunate in obtaining work, and in a short time I had +acquired something of a reputation as a seamstress and dress-maker. The +best ladies in St. Louis were my patrons, and when my reputation was +once established I never lacked for orders. With my needle I kept bread +in the mouths of seventeen persons for two years and five months. While +I was working so hard that others might live in comparative comfort, and +move in those circles of society to which their birth gave them +entrance, the thought often occurred to me whether I was really worth my +salt or not; and then perhaps the lips curled with a bitter sneer. It +may seem strange that I should place so much emphasis upon words +thoughtlessly, idly spoken; but then we do many strange things in life, +and cannot always explain the motives that actuate us. The heavy task +was too much for me, and my health began to give way. About this time +Mr. Keckley, whom I had met in Virginia, and learned to regard with more +than friendship, came to St. Louis. He sought my hand in marriage, and +for a long time I refused to consider his proposal; for I could not bear +the thought of bringing children into slavery—of adding one single +recruit to the millions bound to hopeless servitude, fettered and +shackled with chains stronger and heavier than manacles of iron. I made +a proposition to buy myself and son; the proposition was bluntly +declined, and I was commanded never to broach the subject again. I would +not be put off thus, for hope pointed to a freer, brighter life in the +future. Why should my son be held in slavery? I often asked myself. He +came into the world through no will of mine, and yet, God only knows how +I loved him. The Anglo-Saxon blood as well as the African flowed in his +veins; the two currents commingled—one singing of freedom, the other +silent and sullen with generations of despair. Why should not the +Anglo-Saxon triumph—why should it be weighed down with the rich blood +typical of the tropics? Must the life-current of one race bind the other +race in chains as strong and enduring as if there had been no +Anglo-Saxon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> taint? By the laws of God and nature, as interpreted by +man, one-half of my boy was free, and why should not this fair +birthright of freedom remove the curse from the other half—raise it +into the bright, joyous sunshine of liberty? I could not answer these +questions of my heart that almost maddened me, and I learned to regard +human philosophy with distrust. Much as I respected the authority of my +master, I could not remain silent on a subject that so nearly concerned +me. One day, when I insisted on knowing whether he would permit me to +purchase myself, and what price I must pay for myself, he turned to me +in a petulant manner, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a +bright silver quarter of a dollar, and proffering it to me, said:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, I have told you often not to trouble me with such a question. +If you really wish to leave me, take this: it will pay the passage of +yourself and boy on the ferry-boat, and when you are on the other side +of the river you will be free. It is the cheapest way that I know of to +accomplish what you desire."</p> + +<p>I looked at him in astonishment, and earnestly replied: "No, master, I +do not wish to be free in such a manner. If such had been my wish, I +should never have troubled you about obtaining your consent to my +purchasing myself. I can cross the river any day, as you well know, and +have frequently done so, but will never leave you in such a manner. By +the laws of the land I am your slave—you are my master, and I will only +be free by such means as the laws of the country provide." He expected +this answer, and I knew that he was pleased. Some time afterwards he +told me that he had reconsidered the question; that I had served his +family faithfully; that I deserved my freedom, and that he would take +$1200 for myself and boy.</p> + +<p>This was joyful intelligence for me, and the reflection of hope gave a +silver lining to the dark cloud of my life—faint, it is true, but still +a silver lining.</p> + +<p>Taking a prospective glance at liberty, I consented to marry. The +wedding was a great event in the family. The ceremony took place in the +parlor, in the presence of the family and a number of guests. Mr. +Garland gave me away, and the pastor, Bishop Hawks, performed the +ceremony, who had solemnized the bridals of Mr. G.'s own children. The +day was a happy one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> but it faded all too soon. Mr. Keckley—let me +speak kindly of his faults—proved dissipated, and a burden instead of a +help-mate. More than all, I learned that he was a slave instead of a +free man, as he represented himself to be. With the simple explanation +that I lived with him eight years, let charity draw around him the +mantle of silence.</p> + +<p>I went to work in earnest to purchase my freedom, but the years passed, +and I was still a slave. Mr. Garland's family claimed so much of my +attention—in fact, I supported them—that I was not able to accumulate +anything. In the mean time Mr. Garland died, and Mr. Burwell, a +Mississippi planter, came to St. Louis to settle up the estate. He was a +kind-hearted man, and said I should be free, and would afford me every +facility to raise the necessary amount to pay the price of my liberty. +Several schemes were urged upon me by my friends. At last I formed a +resolution to go to New York, state my case, and appeal to the +benevolence of the people. The plan seemed feasible, and I made +preparations to carry it out. When I was almost ready to turn my face +northward, Mrs. Garland told me that she would require the names of six +gentlemen who would vouch for my return, and become responsible for the +amount at which I was valued. I had many friends in St. Louis, and as I +believed that they had confidence in me, I felt that I could readily +obtain the names desired. I started out, stated my case, and obtained +five signatures to the paper, and my heart throbbed with pleasure, for I +did not believe that the sixth would refuse me. I called, he listened +patiently, then remarked:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Lizzie; the scheme is a fair one, and you shall have my name. +But I shall bid you good-by when you start."</p> + +<p>"Good-by for a short time," I ventured to add.</p> + +<p>"No, good-by for all time," and he looked at me as if he would read my +very soul with his eyes.</p> + +<p>I was startled. "What do you mean, Mr. Farrow? Surely you do not think +that I do not mean to come back?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"No, what then?"</p> + +<p>"Simply this: you <i>mean</i> to come back, that is, you <i>mean</i> so <i>now</i>, but +you never will. When you reach New York the aboli<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>tionists will tell you +what savages we are, and they will prevail on you to stay there; and we +shall never see you again."</p> + +<p>"But I assure you, Mr. Farrow, you are mistaken. I not only <i>mean</i> to +come back, but <i>will</i> come back, and pay every cent of the twelve +hundred dollars for myself and child."</p> + +<p>I was beginning to feel sick at heart, for I could not accept the +signature of this man when he had no faith in my pledges. No; slavery, +eternal slavery rather than be regarded with distrust by those whose +respect I esteemed.</p> + +<p>"But—I am not mistaken," he persisted. "Time will show. When you start +for the North I shall bid you good-by."</p> + +<p>The heart grew heavy. Every ray of sunshine was eclipsed. With humbled +pride, weary step, tearful face, and a dull, aching pain, I left the +house. I walked along the street mechanically. The cloud had no silver +lining now. The rosebuds of hope had withered and died without lifting +up their heads to receive the dew kiss of morning. There was no morning +for me—all was night, dark night.</p> + +<p>I reached my own home, and weeping threw myself upon the bed. My trunk +was packed, my luncheon was prepared by mother, the cars were ready to +bear me where I would not hear the clank of chains, where I would +breathe the free, invigorating breezes of the glorious North. I had +dreamed such a happy dream, in imagination had drunk of the water, the +pure, sweet crystal water of life, but now—now—the flowers had +withered before my eyes; darkness had settled down upon me like a pall, +and I was left alone with cruel mocking shadows.</p> + +<p>The first paroxysm of grief was scarcely over, when a carriage stopped +in front of the house; Mrs. Le Bourgois, one of my kind patrons, got out +of it and entered the door. She seemed to bring sunshine with her +handsome cheery face. She came to where I was, and in her sweet way +said:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, I hear that you are going to New York to beg for money to buy +your freedom. I have been thinking over the matter, and told Ma it would +be a shame to allow you to go North to <i>beg</i> for what we should <i>give</i> +you. You have many friends in St. Louis, and I am going to raise the +twelve hundred dollars required among them. I have two hundred dollars +put away for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> present; am indebted to you one hundred dollars; mother +owes you fifty dollars, and will add another fifty to it; and as I do +not want the present, I will make the money a present to you. Don't +start for New York now until I see what I can do among your friends."</p> + +<p>Like a ray of sunshine she came, and like a ray of sunshine she went +away. The flowers no longer were withered, drooping. Again they seemed +to bud and grow in fragrance and beauty. Mrs. Le Bourgois, God bless her +dear good heart, was more than successful. The twelve hundred dollars +were raised, and at last my son and myself were free. Free, free! what a +glorious ring to the word. Free! the bitter heart-struggle was over. +Free! the soul could go out to heaven and to God with no chains to clog +its flight or pull it down. Free! the earth wore a brighter look, and +the very stars seemed to sing with joy. Yes, free! free by the laws of +man and the smile of God—and Heaven bless them who made me so!</p> + +<p>The following, copied from the original papers, contain, in brief, the +history of my emancipation:—<br /></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I promise to give Lizzie and her son George their freedom, +on the payment of $1200.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"ANNE P. GARLAND.<br /><br /><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright">"June 27, 1855."</p> + +<p>"LIZZY:—I send you this note to sign for the sum of $75, and +when I give you the whole amount you will then sign the other +note for $100.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"ELLEN M. DOAN.<br /><br /><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"In the paper you will find $25; see it is all right before +the girl leaves."<br /><br /><br /></p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have received of Lizzy Keckley $950, which I have +deposited with Darby & Barksdale for her—$600 on the 21st +July, $300 on the 27th and 28th of July, and $50 on 13th +August, 1855.</p> + +<p>"I have and shall make use of said money for Lizzy's benefit, +and hereby guarantee to her one per cent. per month—as much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +more as can be made she shall have. The one per cent., as it +may be checked out, I will be responsible for myself, as well +as for the whole amount, when it shall be needed by her.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"WILLIS L. WILLIAMS.<br /><br /><br /> +</p></div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright">"ST. LOUIS, 13th August, 1855."</p> + +<p>"Know all men by these presents, that for and in +consideration of the love and affection we bear towards our +sister, Anne P. Garland, of St. Louis, Missouri, and for the +further consideration of $5 in hand paid, we hereby sell and +convey unto her, the said Anne P. Garland, a negro woman +named Lizzie, and a negro boy, her son, named George; said +Lizzie now resides at St. Louis, and is a seamstress, known +there as Lizzie Garland, the wife of a yellow man named +James, and called James Keckley; said George is a bright +mulatto boy, and is known in St. Louis as Garland's George. +We warrant these two slaves to be slaves for life, but make +no representations as to age or health.</p> + +<p>"Witness our hands and seals, this 10th day of August, 1855.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"JAS. R. PUTNAM, [L.S.]<br /> +"E. M. PUTNAM, [L.S.]<br /> +"A. BURWELL, [L.S.]"<br /><br /><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="noindent">"<span class="smcap">The State of Mississippi, Warren County, City of Vicksburg. } +<i>SS.</i></span></p> + +<p>"Be it remembered, that on the tenth day of August, in the +year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five, +before me, Francis N. Steele, a Commissioner, resident in the +city of Vicksburg, duly commissioned and qualified by the +executive authority, and under the laws of the State of +Missouri, to take the acknowledgment of deeds, etc., to be +used or recorded therein, personally appeared James R. Putnam +and E. M. Putnam, his wife, and Armistead Burwell, to me +known to be the individuals named in, and who executed the +foregoing conveyance, and acknowledged that they executed the +same for the purposes therein mentioned; and the E. M. Putnam +being by me examined apart from her husband, and being fully +acquainted with the contents of the foregoing conveyance, +acknowledged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> that she executed the same freely, and +relinquished her dower, and any other claim she might have in +and to the property therein mentioned, freely, and without +fear, compulsion, or undue influence of her said husband.</p> + +<p>"In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed +my official seal, this 10th day of August, A.D. 1855.</p> + +<p class="author"> +[L.S.] "F. N. STEELE,<br /> +"<i>Commissioner for Missouri</i>."<br /><br /><br /> +</p></div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Know all men that I, Anne P. Garland, of the County and City +of St. Louis, State of Missouri, for and in consideration of +the sum of $1200, to me in hand paid this day in cash, hereby +emancipate my negro woman Lizzie, and her son George; the +said Lizzie is known in St. Louis as the wife of James, who +is called James Keckley; is of light complexion, about 37 +years of age, by trade a dress-maker, and called by those who +know her Garland's Lizzie. The said boy, George, is the only +child of Lizzie, is about 16 years of age, and is almost +white, and called by those who know him Garland's George.</p> + +<p>"Witness my hand and seal, this 13th day of November, 1855.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"ANNE P. GARLAND, [L.S.]</p> +<p class="noindent">"Witness:—JOHN WICKHAM,<br /> + "WILLIS L. WILLIAMS."<br /><br /><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="noindent"><i>In St. Louis Circuit Court, October Term, 1855. November 15, +1855.</i> "<span class="smcap">State of Missouri, County of St. Louis.} <i>SS.</i></span></p> + +<p>"Be it remembered, that on this fifteenth day of November, +eighteen hundred and fifty-five, in open court came John +Wickham and Willis L. Williams, these two subscribing +witnesses, examined under oath to that effect, proved the +execution and acknowledgment of said deed by Anne P. Garland +to Lizzie and her son George, which said proof of +acknowledgment is entered on the record of the court of that +day.</p> + +<p>"In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal +of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, the day +and year last aforesaid.</p> + +<p class="author"> +[L.S.] "WM. J. HAMMOND, <i>Clerk</i>."<br /><br /><br /> +</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noindent"> +"<span class="smcap">State of Missouri, County of St. Louis.} <i>SS.</i></span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"I, Wm. J. Hammond, Clerk of the Circuit Court within and for +the county aforesaid, certify the foregoing to be a true copy +of a deed of emancipation from Anne P. Garland to Lizzie and +her son George, as fully as the same remain in my office.</p> + +<p>"In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal +of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, this +fifteenth day of November, 1855.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"WM. J. HAMMOND, <i>Clerk</i>.<br /> +"By WM. A. PENNINGTON, D.C."<br /><br /><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">State of Missouri, County of St. Louis.} <i>SS.</i></span></p> + +<p>"I, the undersigned Recorder of said county, certify that the +foregoing instrument of writing was filed for record in my +office on the 14th day of November, 1855; it is truly +recorded in Book No. 169, page 288.</p> + +<p>"Witness my hand and official seal, date last aforesaid.</p> + +<p class="author"> +[L.S.] "C. KEEMLE, <i>Recorder</i>."<br /><br /><br /> +</p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<h2>IN THE FAMILY OF SENATOR JEFFERSON DAVIS</h2> + + +<p>The twelve hundred dollars with which I purchased the freedom of myself +and son I consented to accept only as a loan. I went to work in earnest, +and in a short time paid every cent that was so kindly advanced by my +lady patrons of St. Louis. All this time my husband was a source of +trouble to me, and a burden. Too close occupation with my needle had its +effects upon my health, and feeling exhausted with work, I determined to +make a change. I had a conversation with Mr. Keckley; informed him that +since he persisted in dissipation we must separate; that I was going +North, and that I should never live with him again, at least until I had +good evidence of his reform. He was rapidly debasing himself, and +although I was willing to work for him, I was not willing to share his +degradation. Poor man; he had his faults, but over these faults death +has drawn a veil. My husband is now sleeping in his grave, and in the +silent grave I would bury all unpleasant memories of him.</p> + +<p>I left St. Louis in the spring of 1860, taking the cars direct for +Baltimore, where I stopped six weeks, attempting to realize a sum of +money by forming classes of young colored women, and teaching them my +system of cutting and fitting dresses. The scheme was not successful, +for after six weeks of labor and vexation, I left Baltimore with +scarcely money enough to pay my fare to Washington. Arriving in the +capital, I sought and obtained work at two dollars and a half per day. +However, as I was notified that I could only remain in the city ten days +without obtaining a license to do so, such being the law, and as I did +not know whom to apply to for assistance, I was sorely troubled. I also +had to have some one vouch to the authorities that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> was a free woman. +My means were too scanty, and my profession too precarious to warrant my +purchasing [a] license. In my perplexity I called on a lady for whom I +was sewing, Miss Ringold, a member of Gen. Mason's family, from +Virginia. I stated my case, and she kindly volunteered to render me all +the assistance in her power. She called on Mayor Burritt with me, and +Miss Ringold succeeded in making an arrangement for me to remain in +Washington without paying the sum required for a license; moreover, I +was not to be molested. I rented apartments in a good locality, and soon +had a good run of custom. The summer passed, winter came, and I was +still in Washington. Mrs. Davis, wife of Senator Jefferson Davis, came +from the South in November of 1860, with her husband. Learning that Mrs. +Davis wanted a modiste, I presented myself, and was employed by her on +the recommendation of one of my patrons and her intimate friend, Mrs. +Captain Hetsill. I went to the house to work, but finding that they were +such late risers, and as I had to fit many dresses on Mrs. Davis, I told +her that I should prefer giving half the day to her, working the other +in my own room for some of my other lady patrons. Mrs. D. consented to +the proposition, and it was arranged that I should come to her own house +every day after 12 <span class="smcap">m.</span> It was the winter before the breaking out of that +fierce and bloody war between the two sections of the country; and as +Mr. Davis occupied a leading position, his house was the resort of +politicians and statesmen from the South. Almost every night, as I +learned from the servants and other members of the family, secret +meetings were held at the house; and some of these meetings were +protracted to a very late hour. The prospects of war were freely +discussed in my presence by Mr. and Mrs. Davis and their friends. The +holidays were approaching, and Mrs. Davis kept me busy in manufacturing +articles of dress for herself and children. She desired to present Mr. +Davis on Christmas with a handsome dressing-gown. The material was +purchased, and for weeks the work had been under way. Christmas eve +came, and the gown had been laid aside so often that it was still +unfinished. I saw that Mrs. D. was anxious to have it completed, so I +volunteered to remain and work on it. Wearily the hours dragged on, but +there was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> rest for my busy fingers. I persevered in my task, +notwithstanding my head was aching. Mrs. Davis was busy in the adjoining +room, arranging the Christmas tree for the children. I looked at the +clock, and the hands pointed to a quarter of twelve. I was arranging the +cords on the gown when the Senator came in; he looked somewhat careworn, +and his step seemed to be a little nervous. He leaned against the door, +and expressed his admiration of the Christmas tree, but there was no +smile on his face. Turning round, he saw me sitting in the adjoining +room, and quickly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"That you, Lizzie! why are you here so late? Still at work; I hope that +Mrs. Davis is not too exacting!"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," I answered. "Mrs. Davis was very anxious to have this gown +finished to-night, and I volunteered to remain and complete it."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, the case must be urgent," and he came slowly towards me, +took the gown in his hand, and asked the color of the silk, as he said +the gas-light was so deceptive to his old eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is a drab changeable silk, Mr. Davis," I answered; and might have +added that it was rich and handsome, but did not, well knowing that he +would make the discovery in the morning.</p> + +<p>He smiled curiously, but turned and walked from the room without another +question. He inferred that the gown was for him, that it was to be the +Christmas present from his wife, and he did not wish to destroy the +pleasure that she would experience in believing that the gift would +prove a surprise. In this respect, as in many others, he always appeared +to me as a thoughtful, considerate man in the domestic circle. As the +clock struck twelve I finished the gown, little dreaming of the future +that was before it. It was worn, I have not the shadow of a doubt, by +Mr. Davis during the stormy years that he was the President of the +Confederate States.</p> + +<p>The holidays passed, and before the close of January the war was +discussed in Mr. Davis's family as an event certain to happen in the +future. Mrs. Davis was warmly attached to Washington, and I often heard +her say that she disliked the idea of breaking up old associations, and +going South to suffer from trouble and deprivation. One day, while +discussing the question<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> in my presence with one of her intimate +friends, she exclaimed: "I would rather remain in Washington and be +kicked about, than go South and be Mrs. President." Her friend expressed +surprise at the remark, and Mrs. Davis insisted that the opinion was an +honest one.</p> + +<p>While dressing her one day, she said to me: "Lizzie, you are so very +handy that I should like to take you South with me."</p> + +<p>"When do you go South, Mrs. Davis?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I cannot tell just now, but it will be soon. You know there is +going to be war, Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"But I tell you yes."</p> + +<p>"Who will go to war?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"The North and South," was her ready reply. "The Southern people will +not submit to the humiliating demands of the Abolition party; they will +fight first."</p> + +<p>"And which do you think will whip?"</p> + +<p>"The South, of course. The South is impulsive, is in earnest, and the +Southern soldiers will fight to conquer. The North will yield, when it +sees the South is in earnest, rather than engage in a long and bloody +war."</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Davis, are you certain that there will be war?"</p> + +<p>"Certain!—I know it. You had better go South with me; I will take good +care of you. Besides, when the war breaks out, the colored people will +suffer in the North. The Northern people will look upon them as the +cause of the war, and I fear, in their exasperation, will be inclined to +treat you harshly. Then, I may come back to Washington in a few months, +and live in the White House. The Southern people talk of choosing Mr. +Davis for their President. In fact, it may be considered settled that he +will be their President. As soon as we go South and secede from the +other States, we will raise an army and march on Washington, and then I +shall live in the White House."</p> + +<p>I was bewildered with what I heard. I had served Mrs. Davis faithfully, +and she had learned to place the greatest confidence in me. At first I +was almost tempted to go South with her, for her reasoning seemed +plausible. At the time the conversation was closed, with my promise to +consider the question.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>I thought over the question much, and the more I thought the less +inclined I felt to accept the proposition so kindly made by Mrs. Davis. +I knew the North to be strong, and believed that the people would fight +for the flag that they pretended to venerate so highly. The Republican +party had just emerged from a heated campaign, flushed with victory, and +I could not think that the hosts composing the party would quietly yield +all they had gained in the Presidential canvass. A show of war from the +South, I felt, would lead to actual war in the North; and with the two +sections bitterly arrayed against each other, I preferred to cast my lot +among the people of the North.</p> + +<p>I parted with Mrs. Davis kindly, half promising to join her in the South +if further deliberation should induce me to change my views. A few weeks +before she left Washington I made two chintz wrappers for her. She said +that she must give up expensive dressing for a while; and that she, with +the Southern people, now that war was imminent, must learn to practise +lessons of economy. She left some fine needle-work in my hands, which I +finished, and forwarded to her at Montgomery, Alabama, in the month of +June, through the assistance of Mrs. Emory, one of her oldest and best +friends.</p> + +<p>Since bidding them good-by at Washington, early in the year 1860, I have +never met any of the Davis family. Years of excitement, years of +bloodshed, and hundreds of thousands of graves intervene between the +months I spent in the family and now. The years have brought many +changes; and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a +slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced +the heart and soul tortures of a slave's life, can say to Mr. Jefferson +Davis, "Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace."</p> + +<p>In the winter of 1865 I was in Chicago, and one day visited the great +charity fair held for the benefit of the families of those soldiers who +were killed or wounded during the war. In one part of the building was a +wax figure of Jefferson Davis, wearing over his other garments the dress +in which it was reported that he was captured. There was always a great +crowd around this figure, and I was naturally attracted towards it. I +worked my way to the figure, and in examining the dress made the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +pleasing discovery that it was one of the chintz wrappers that I had +made for Mrs. Davis, a short time before she departed from Washington +for the South. When it was announced that I recognized the dress as one +that I had made for the wife of the late Confederate President there was +great cheering and excitement, and I at once became the object of the +deepest curiosity. Great crowds followed me, and in order to escape from +the embarrassing situation I left the building.</p> + +<p>I believe it now is pretty well established that Mr. Davis had on a +water-proof cloak instead of a dress, as first reported, when he was +captured. This does not invalidate any portion of my story. The dress on +the wax figure at the fair in Chicago unquestionably was one of the +chintz wrappers that I made for Mrs. Davis in January, 1860, in +Washington; and I infer, since it was not found on the body of the +fugitive President of the South, it was taken from the trunks of Mrs. +Davis, captured at the same time. Be this as it may, the coincidence is +none the less striking and curious.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<h2>MY INTRODUCTION TO MRS. LINCOLN</h2> + + +<p>Ever since arriving in Washington I had a great desire to work for the +ladies of the White House, and to accomplish this end I was ready to +make almost any sacrifice consistent with propriety. Work came in +slowly, and I was beginning to feel very much embarrassed, for I did not +know how I was to meet the bills staring me in the face. It is true, the +bills were small, but then they were formidable to me, who had little or +nothing to pay them with. While in this situation I called at the +Ringolds, where I met Mrs. Captain Lee. Mrs. L. was in a state bordering +on excitement, as the great event of the season, the dinner-party given +in honor of the Prince of Wales, was soon to come off, and she must have +a dress suitable for the occasion. The silk had been purchased, but a +dress-maker had not yet been found. Miss Ringold recommended me, and I +received the order to make the dress. When I called on Mrs. Lee the next +day, her husband was in the room, and handing me a roll of bank bills, +amounting to one hundred dollars, he requested me to purchase the +trimmings, and to spare no expense in making a selection. With the money +in my pocket I went out in the street, entered the store of Harper & +Mitchell, and asked to look at their laces. Mr. Harper waited on me +himself, and was polite and kind. When I asked permission to carry the +laces to Mrs. Lee, in order to learn whether she could approve my +selection or not, he gave a ready assent. When I reminded him that I was +a stranger, and that the goods were valuable, he remarked that he was +not afraid to trust me—that he believed my face was the index to an +honest heart. It was pleasant to be spoken to thus, and I shall never +forget the kind words of Mr. Harper. I often recall them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> for they are +associated with the dawn of a brighter period in my dark life. I +purchased the trimmings, and Mr. Harper allowed me a commission of +twenty-five dollars on the purchase. The dress was done in time, and it +gave complete satisfaction. Mrs. Lee attracted great attention at the +dinner-party, and her elegant dress proved a good card for me. I +received numerous orders, and was relieved from all pecuniary +embarrassments. One of my patrons was Mrs. Gen. McClean, a daughter of +Gen. Sumner. One day when I was very busy, Mrs. McC. drove up to my +apartments, came in where I was engaged with my needle, and in her +emphatic way said:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, I am invited to dine at Willard's on next Sunday, and +positively I have not a dress fit to wear on the occasion. I have just +purchased material, and you must commence work on it right away."</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. McClean," I replied, "I have more work now promised than I can +do. It is impossible for me to make a dress for you to wear on Sunday +next."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday;" +and she spoke with some impatience.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," I began, but she interrupted me.</p> + +<p>"Now don't say no again. I tell you that you must make the dress. I have +often heard you say that you would like to work for the ladies of the +White House. Well, I have it in my power to obtain you this privilege. I +know Mrs. Lincoln well, and you shall make a dress for her provided you +finish mine in time to wear at dinner on Sunday."</p> + +<p>The inducement was the best that could have been offered. I would +undertake the dress if I should have to sit up all night—every night, +to make my pledge good. I sent out and employed assistants, and, after +much worry and trouble, the dress was completed to the satisfaction of +Mrs. McClean. It appears that Mrs. Lincoln had upset a cup of coffee on +the dress she designed wearing on the evening of the reception after the +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, which +rendered it necessary that she should have a new one for the occasion. +On asking Mrs. McClean who her dress-maker was, that lady promptly +informed her,</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lizzie Keckley."</p> + +<p>"Lizzie Keckley? The name is familiar to me. She used to work for some +of my lady friends in St. Louis, and they spoke well of her. Can you +recommend her to me?"</p> + +<p>"With confidence. Shall I send her to you?"</p> + +<p>"If you please. I shall feel under many obligations for your kindness."</p> + +<p>The next Sunday Mrs. McClean sent me a message to call at her house at +four o'clock P.M., that day. As she did not state why I was to call, I +determined to wait till Monday morning. Monday morning came, and nine +o'clock found me at Mrs. McC.'s house. The streets of the capital were +thronged with people, for this was Inauguration day. A new President, a +man of the people from the broad prairies of the West, was to accept the +solemn oath of office, was to assume the responsibilities attached to +the high position of Chief Magistrate of the United States. Never was +such deep interest felt in the inauguration proceedings as was felt +today; for threats of assassination had been made, and every breeze from +the South came heavily laden with the rumors of war. Around Willard's +hotel swayed an excited crowd, and it was with the utmost difficulty +that I worked my way to the house on the opposite side of the street, +occupied by the McCleans. Mrs. McClean was out, but presently an aide on +General McClean's staff called, and informed me that I was wanted at +Willard's. I crossed the street, and on entering the hotel was met by +Mrs. McClean, who greeted me:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, why did you not come yesterday, as I requested? Mrs. Lincoln +wanted to see you, but I fear that now you are too late."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Mrs. McClean. You did not say what you wanted with me +yesterday, so I judged that this morning would do as well."</p> + +<p>"You should have come yesterday," she insisted. "Go up to Mrs. Lincoln's +room"—giving me the number—"she may find use for you yet."</p> + +<p>With a nervous step I passed on, and knocked at Mrs. Lincoln's door. A +cheery voice bade me come in, and a lady, inclined to stoutness, about +forty years of age, stood before me.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are Lizzie Keckley, I believe."</p> + +<p>I bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"The dress-maker that Mrs. McClean recommended?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam."</p> + +<p>"Very well; I have not time to talk to you now, but would like to have +you call at the White House, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, where I +shall then be."</p> + +<p>I bowed myself out of the room, and returned to my apartments. The day +passed slowly, for I could not help but speculate in relation to the +appointed interview for the morrow. My long-cherished hope was about to +be realized, and I could not rest.</p> + +<p>Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, I crossed the threshold of the White +House for the first time. I was shown into a waiting-room, and informed +that Mrs. Lincoln was at breakfast. In the waiting-room I found no less +than three mantua-makers waiting for an interview with the wife of the +new President. It seems that Mrs. Lincoln had told several of her lady +friends that she had urgent need for a dress-maker, and that each of +these friends had sent her mantua-maker to the White House. Hope fell at +once. With so many rivals for the position sought after, I regarded my +chances for success as extremely doubtful. I was the last one summoned +to Mrs. Lincoln's presence. All the others had a hearing, and were +dismissed. I went up-stairs timidly, and entering the room with nervous +step, discovered the wife of the President standing by a window, looking +out, and engaged in lively conversation with a lady, Mrs. Grimsly, as I +afterwards learned. Mrs. L. came forward, and greeted me warmly.</p> + +<p>"You have come at last. Mrs. Keckley, who have you worked for in the +city?"</p> + +<p>"Among others, Mrs. Senator Davis has been one of my best patrons," was +my reply.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Davis! So you have worked for her, have you? Of course you gave +satisfaction; so far, good. Can you do my work?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have much work for me to do?"</p> + +<p>"That, Mrs. Keckley, will depend altogether upon your prices. I trust +that your terms are reasonable. I cannot afford to be extravagant. We +are just from the West, and are poor. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> you do not charge too much, I +shall be able to give you all my work."</p> + +<p>"I do not think there will be any difficulty about charges, Mrs. +Lincoln; my terms are reasonable."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you will work cheap, you shall have plenty to do. I can't +afford to pay big prices, so I frankly tell you so in the beginning."</p> + +<p>The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and I measured Mrs. Lincoln, +took the dress with me, a bright rose-colored moiré-antique, and +returned the next day to fit it on her. A number of ladies were in the +room, all making preparations for the levee to come off on Friday night. +These ladies, I learned, were relatives of Mrs. L.'s,—Mrs. Edwards and +Mrs. Kellogg, her own sisters, and Elizabeth Edwards and Julia Baker, +her nieces. Mrs. Lincoln this morning was dressed in a cashmere wrapper, +quilted down the front; and she wore a simple head-dress. The other +ladies wore morning robes.</p> + +<p>I was hard at work on the dress, when I was informed that the levee had +been postponed from Friday night till Tuesday night. This, of course, +gave me more time to complete my task. Mrs. Lincoln sent for me, and +suggested some alteration in style, which was made. She also requested +that I make a waist of blue watered silk for Mrs. Grimsly, as work on +the dress would not require all my time.</p> + +<p>Tuesday evening came, and I had taken the last stitches on the dress. I +folded it and carried it to the White House, with the waist for Mrs. +Grimsly. When I went up-stairs, I found the ladies in a terrible state +of excitement. Mrs. Lincoln was protesting that she could not go down, +for the reason that she had nothing to wear.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me—deceived me. Why do you bring +my dress at this late hour?"</p> + +<p>"Because I have just finished it, and I thought I should be in time."</p> + +<p>"But you are not in time, Mrs. Keckley; you have bitterly disappointed +me. I have no time now to dress, and, what is more, I will not dress, +and go down-stairs."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Mrs. Lincoln, for I in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>tended to +be in time. Will you let me dress you? I can have you ready in a few +minutes."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't be dressed. I will stay in my room. Mr. Lincoln can go down +with the other ladies."</p> + +<p>"But there is plenty of time for you to dress, Mary," joined in Mrs. +Grimsly and Mrs. Edwards. "Let Mrs. Keckley assist you, and she will +soon have you ready."</p> + +<p>Thus urged, she consented. I dressed her hair, and arranged the dress on +her. It fitted nicely, and she was pleased. Mr. Lincoln came in, threw +himself on the sofa, laughed with Willie and little Tad, and then +commenced pulling on his gloves, quoting poetry all the while.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be in a poetical mood to-night," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, these are poetical times," was his pleasant reply. "I +declare, you look charming in that dress. Mrs. Keckley has met with +great success." And then he proceeded to compliment the other ladies.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moiré-antique. She wore +a pearl necklace, pearl ear-rings, pearl bracelets, and red roses in her +hair. Mrs. Baker was dressed in lemon-colored silk; Mrs. Kellogg in a +drab silk, ashes of rose; Mrs. Edwards in a brown and black silk; Miss +Edwards in crimson, and Mrs. Grimsly in blue watered silk. Just before +starting downstairs, Mrs. Lincoln's lace handkerchief was the object of +search. It had been displaced by Tad, who was mischievous, and hard to +restrain. The handkerchief found, all became serene. Mrs. Lincoln took +the President's arm, and with smiling face led the train below. I was +surprised at her grace and composure. I had heard so much, in current +and malicious report, of her low life, of her ignorance and vulgarity, +that I expected to see her embarrassed on this occasion. Report, I soon +saw, was wrong. No queen, accustomed to the usages of royalty all her +life, could have comported herself with more calmness and dignity than +did the wife of the President. She was confident and self-possessed, and +confidence always gives grace.</p> + +<p>This levee was a brilliant one, and the only one of the season. I became +the regular modiste of Mrs. Lincoln. I made fifteen or sixteen dresses +for her during the spring and early part of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> summer, when she left +Washington; spending the hot weather at Saratoga, Long Branch, and other +places. In the mean time I was employed by Mrs. Senator Douglas, one of +the loveliest ladies that I ever met, Mrs. Secretary Wells, Mrs. +Secretary Stanton, and others. Mrs. Douglas always dressed in deep +mourning, with excellent taste, and several of the leading ladies of +Washington society were extremely jealous of her superior attractions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<h2>WILLIE LINCOLN'S DEATH-BED</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln returned to Washington in November, and again duty called +me to the White House. The war was now in progress, and every day +brought stirring news from the front—the front, where the Gray opposed +the Blue, where flashed the bright sabre in the sunshine, where were +heard the angry notes of battle, the deep roar of cannon, and the +fearful rattle of musketry; where new graves were being made every day, +where brother forgot a mother's early blessing and sought the lifeblood +of brother, and friend raised the deadly knife against friend. Oh, the +front, with its stirring battle-scenes! Oh, the front, with its ghastly +heaps of dead! The life of the nation was at stake; and when the land +was full of sorrow, there could not be much gayety at the capital. The +days passed quietly with me. I soon learned that some people had an +intense desire to penetrate the inner circle of the White House. No +President and his family, heretofore occupying this mansion, ever +excited so much curiosity as the present incumbents. Mr. Lincoln had +grown up in the wilds of the West, and evil report had said much of him +and his wife. The polite world was shocked, and the tendency to +exaggerate intensified curiosity. As soon as it was known that I was the +modiste of Mrs. Lincoln, parties crowded around and affected friendship +for me, hoping to induce me to betray the secrets of the domestic +circle. One day a woman, I will not call her a lady, drove up to my +rooms, gave me an order to make a dress, and insisted on partly paying +me in advance. She called on me every day, and was exceedingly kind. +When she came to take her dress away, she cautiously remarked:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keckley, you know Mrs. Lincoln?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You are her modiste; are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You know her very well; do you not?"</p> + +<p>"I am with her every day or two."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you would have some influence with her?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say. Mrs. Lincoln, I presume, would listen to anything I +should suggest, but whether she would be influenced by a suggestion of +mine is another question."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that you could influence her, Mrs. Keckley. Now listen; I +have a proposition to make. I have a great desire to become an inmate of +the White House. I have heard so much of Mr. Lincoln's goodness that I +should like to be near him; and if I can enter the White House no other +way, I am willing to go as a menial. My dear Mrs. Keckley, will you not +recommend me to Mrs. Lincoln as a friend of yours out of employment, and +ask her to take me as a chambermaid? If you will do this you shall be +well rewarded. It may be worth several thousand dollars to you in time."</p> + +<p>I looked at the woman in amazement. A bribe, and to betray the +confidence of my employer! Turning to her with a glance of scorn, I +said:</p> + +<p>"Madam, you are mistaken in regard to my character. Sooner than betray +the trust of a friend, I would throw myself into the Potomac river. I am +not so base as that. Pardon me, but there is the door, and I trust that +you will never enter my room again."</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet in deep confusion, and passed through the door, +murmuring: "Very well; you will live to regret your action today."</p> + +<p>"Never, never!" I exclaimed, and closed the door after her with a bang. +I afterwards learned that this woman was an actress, and that her object +was to enter the White House as a servant, learn its secrets, and then +publish a scandal to the world. I do not give her name, for such +publicity would wound the sensitive feelings of friends, who would have +to share her disgrace, without being responsible for her faults. I +simply record the incident to show how I often was approached by +unprincipled parties. It is unnecessary to say that I indignantly +refused every bribe offered.</p> + +<p>The first public appearance of Mrs. Lincoln that winter was at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> the +reception on New Year's Day. This reception was shortly followed by a +brilliant levee. The day after the levee I went to the White House, and +while fitting a dress to Mrs. Lincoln, she said:</p> + +<p>"Lizabeth"—she had learned to drop the E—"Lizabeth, I have an idea. +These are war times, and we must be as economical as possible. You know +the President is expected to give a series of state dinners every +winter, and these dinners are very costly; Now I want to avoid this +expense; and my idea is, that if I give three large receptions, the +state dinners can be scratched from the programme. What do you think, +Lizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"I think that you are right, Mrs. Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear you say so. If I can make Mr. Lincoln take the same +view of the case, I shall not fail to put the idea into practice."</p> + +<p>Before I left her room that day, Mr. Lincoln came in. She at once stated +the case to him. He pondered the question a few moments before +answering.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am afraid your plan will not work."</p> + +<p>"But it <i>will</i> work, if you will only determine that it <i>shall</i> work."</p> + +<p>"It is breaking in on the regular custom," he mildly replied.</p> + +<p>"But you forget, father, these are war times, and old customs can be +done away with for the once. The idea is economical, you must admit."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, but we must think of something besides economy."</p> + +<p>"I do think of something else. Public receptions are more democratic +than stupid state dinners—are more in keeping with the spirit of the +institutions of our country, as you would say if called upon to make a +stump speech. There are a great many strangers in the city, foreigners +and others, whom we can entertain at our receptions, but whom we cannot +invite to our dinners."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right, mother. You argue the point well. I think that +we shall have to decide on the receptions."</p> + +<p>So the day was carried. The question was decided, and arrangements were +made for the first reception. It now was January, and cards were issued +for February.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>The children, Tad and Willie, were constantly receiving presents. Willie +was so delighted with a little pony, that he insisted on riding it every +day. The weather was changeable, and exposure resulted in a severe cold, +which deepened into fever. He was very sick, and I was summoned to his +bedside. It was sad to see the poor boy suffer. Always of a delicate +constitution, he could not resist the strong inroads of disease. The +days dragged wearily by, and he grew weaker and more shadow-like. He was +his mother's favorite child, and she doted on him. It grieved her heart +sorely to see him suffer. When able to be about, he was almost +constantly by her side. When I would go in her room, almost always I +found blue-eyed Willie there, reading from an open book, or curled up in +a chair with pencil and paper in hand. He had decidedly a literary +taste, and was a studious boy. A short time before his death he wrote +this simple little poem:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright">"WASHINGTON, D. C., October 30, 1861.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent">DEAR SIR:—I enclose you my first attempt at poetry.</p> + +<p class="author">"Yours truly,<br /> +"WM. W. LINCOLN.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent">"<i>To the Editor of the National Republican.</i>"<br /> +<br /> +LINES ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL EDWARD BAKER.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">THERE was no patriot like Baker,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So noble and so true;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He fell as a soldier on the field,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His face to the sky of blue.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His voice is silent in the hall</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which oft his presence graced;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No more he'll hear the loud acclaim</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which rang from place to place.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No squeamish notions filled his breast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The Union</i> was his theme;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>No surrender and no compromise</i>,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His day-thought and night's dream.</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Country has <i>her</i> part to pay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To'rds those he has left behind;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His widow and his children all,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She must always keep in mind.</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Finding that Willie continued to grow worse, Mrs. Lincoln determined to +withdraw her cards of invitation and postpone the reception. Mr. Lincoln +thought that the cards had better not be withdrawn. At least he advised +that the doctor be consulted before any steps were taken. Accordingly +Dr. Stone was called in. He pronounced Willie better, and said that +there was every reason for an early recovery. He thought, since the +invitations had been issued, it would be best to go on with the +reception. Willie, he insisted, was in no immediate danger. Mrs. Lincoln +was guided by these counsels, and no postponement was announced. On the +evening of the reception Willie was suddenly taken worse. His mother sat +by his bedside a long while, holding his feverish hand in her own, and +watching his labored breathing. The doctor claimed there was no cause +for alarm. I arranged Mrs. Lincoln's hair, then assisted her to dress. +Her dress was white satin, trimmed with black lace. The trail was very +long, and as she swept through the room, Mr. Lincoln was standing with +his back to the fire, his hands behind him, and his eyes on the carpet. +His face wore a thoughtful, solemn look. The rustling of the satin dress +attracted his attention. He looked at it a few moments; then, in his +quaint, quiet way remarked—</p> + +<p>"Whew! our cat has a long tail to-night."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln did not reply. The President added:</p> + +<p>"Mother, it is my opinion, if some of that tail was nearer the head, it +would be in better style;" and he glanced at her bare arms and neck. She +had a beautiful neck and arm, and low dresses were becoming to her. She +turned away with a look of offended dignity, and presently took the +President's arm, and both went down-stairs to their guests, leaving me +alone with the sick boy.</p> + +<p>The reception was a large and brilliant one, and the rich notes of the +Marine Band in the apartments below came to the sick-room in soft, +subdued murmurs, like the wild, faint sobbing of far-off spirits. Some +of the young people had suggested dancing, but Mr. Lincoln met the +suggestion with an emphatic veto.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> The brilliance of the scene could not +dispel the sadness that rested upon the face of Mrs. Lincoln. During the +evening she came upstairs several times, and stood by the bedside of the +suffering boy. She loved him with a mother's heart, and her anxiety was +great. The night passed slowly; morning came, and Willie was worse. He +lingered a few days, and died. God called the beautiful spirit home, and +the house of joy was turned into the house of mourning. I was worn out +with watching, and was not in the room when Willie died, but was +immediately sent for. I assisted in washing him and dressing him, and +then laid him on the bed, when Mr. Lincoln came in. I never saw a man so +bowed down with grief. He came to the bed, lifted the cover from the +face of his child, gazed at it long and earnestly, murmuring, "My poor +boy, he was too good for this earth. God has called him home. I know +that he is much better off in heaven, but then we loved him so. It is +hard, hard to have him die!"</p> + +<p>Great sobs choked his utterance. He buried his head in his hands, and +his tall frame was convulsed with emotion. I stood at the foot of the +bed, my eyes full of tears, looking at the man in silent, awe-stricken +wonder. His grief unnerved him, and made him a weak, passive child. I +did not dream that his rugged nature could be so moved. I shall never +forget those solemn moments—genius and greatness weeping over love's +idol lost. There is a grandeur as well as a simplicity about the picture +that will never fade. With me it is immortal—I really believe that I +shall carry it with me across the dark, mysterious river of death.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln's grief was inconsolable. The pale face of her dead boy +threw her into convulsions. Around him love's tendrils had been twined, +and now that he was dressed for the tomb, it was like tearing the +tendrils out of the heart by their roots. Willie, she often said, if +spared by Providence, would be the hope and stay of her old age. But +Providence had not spared him. The light faded from his eyes, and the +death-dew had gathered on his brow.</p> + +<p>In one of her paroxysms of grief the President kindly bent over his +wife, took her by the arm, and gently led her to the window. With a +stately, solemn gesture, he pointed to the lunatic asylum.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mother, do you see that large white building on the hill yonder? Try +and control your grief, or it will drive you mad, and we may have to +send you there."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln was so completely overwhelmed with sorrow that she did not +attend the funeral. Willie was laid to rest in the cemetery, and the +White House was draped in mourning. Black crape everywhere met the eye, +contrasting strangely with the gay and brilliant colors of a few days +before. Party dresses were laid aside, and every one who crossed the +threshold of the Presidential mansion spoke in subdued tones when they +thought of the sweet boy at rest—</p> + +<p>"Under the sod and the dew."</p> + +<p>Previous to this I had lost my son. Leaving Wilberforce, he went to the +battle-field with the three months troops, and was killed in +Missouri—found his grave on the battle-field where the gallant General +Lyon fell. It was a sad blow to me, and the kind womanly letter that +Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me when she heard of my bereavement was full of +golden words of comfort.</p> + +<p>Nathaniel Parker Willis, the genial poet, now sleeping in his grave, +wrote this beautiful sketch of Willie Lincoln, after the sad death of +the bright-eyed boy:</p> + +<p>"This little fellow had his acquaintances among his father's friends, +and I chanced to be one of them. He never failed to seek me out in the +crowd, shake hands, and make some pleasant remark; and this, in a boy of +ten years of age, was, to say the least, endearing to a stranger. But he +had more than mere affectionateness. His self-possession—<i>aplomb</i>, as +the French call it—was extraordinary. I was one day passing the White +House, when he was outside with a play-fellow on the side-walk. Mr. +Seward drove in, with Prince Napoleon and two of his suite in the +carriage; and, in a mock-heroic way—terms of intimacy evidently +existing between the boy and the Secretary—the official gentleman took +off his hat, and the Napoleon did the same, all making the young Prince +President a ceremonious salute. Not a bit staggered with the homage, +Willie drew himself up to his full height, took off his little cap with +graceful self-possession, and bowed down formally to the ground, like a +little ambassador. They drove past, and he went on unconcernedly with +his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> play: the impromptu readiness and good judgment being clearly a +part of his nature. His genial and open expression of countenance was +none the less ingenuous and fearless for a certain tincture of fun; and +it was in this mingling of qualities that he so faithfully resembled his +father.</p> + +<p>"With all the splendor that was around this little fellow in his new +home, he was so bravely and beautifully <i>himself</i>—and that only. A wild +flower transplanted from the prairie to the hot-house, he retained his +prairie habits, unalterably pure and simple, till he died. His leading +trait seemed to be a fearless and kindly frankness, willing that +everything should be as different as it pleased, but resting unmoved in +his own conscious single-heartedness. I found I was studying him +irresistibly, as one of the sweet problems of childhood that the world +is blessed with in rare places; and the news of his death (I was absent +from Washington, on a visit to my own children, at the time) came to me +like a knell heard unexpectedly at a merry-making.</p> + +<p>"On the day of the funeral I went before the hour, to take a near +farewell look at the dear boy; for they had embalmed him to send home to +the West—to sleep under the sod of his own valley—and the coffin-lid +was to be closed before the service. The family had just taken their +leave of him, and the servants and nurses were seeing him for the last +time—and with tears and sobs wholly unrestrained, for he was loved like +an idol by every one of them. He lay with eyes closed—his brown hair +parted as we had known it—pale in the slumber of death; but otherwise +unchanged, for he was dressed as if for the evening, and held in one of +his hands, crossed upon his breast, a bunch of exquisite flowers—a +message coming from his mother, while we were looking upon him, that +those flowers might be preserved for her. She was lying sick in her bed, +worn out with grief and over-watching.</p> + +<p>"The funeral was very touching. Of the entertainments in the East Room +the boy had been—for those who now assembled more especially—a most +life-giving variation. With his bright face, and his apt greetings and +replies, he was remembered in every part of that crimson-curtained hall, +built only for pleasure—of all the crowds, each night, certainly the +one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> least likely to be death's first mark. He was his father's +favorite. They were intimates—often seen hand in hand. And there sat +the man, with a burden on his brain at which the world marvels—bent now +with the load at both heart and brain—staggering under a blow like the +taking from him of his child! His men of power sat around +him—McClellan, with a moist eye when he bowed to the prayer, as I could +see from where I stood; and Chase and Seward, with their austere +features at work; and senators, and ambassadors, and soldiers, all +struggling with their tears—great hearts sorrowing with the President +as a stricken man and a brother. That God may give him strength for all +his burdens is, I am sure, at present the prayer of a nation."</p> + +<p>This sketch was very much admired by Mrs. Lincoln. I copy it from the +scrap-book in which she pasted it, with many tears, with her own hands.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<h2>WASHINGTON IN 1862-3</h2> + + +<p>In the summer of 1862, freedmen began to flock into Washington from +Maryland and Virginia. They came with a great hope in their hearts, and +with all their worldly goods on their backs. Fresh from the bonds of +slavery, fresh from the benighted regions of the plantation, they came +to the Capital looking for liberty, and many of them not knowing it when +they found it. Many good friends reached forth kind hands, but the North +is not warm and impulsive. For one kind word spoken, two harsh ones were +uttered; there was something repelling in the atmosphere, and the bright +joyous dreams of freedom to the slave faded—were sadly altered, in the +presence of that stern, practical mother, reality. Instead of flowery +paths, days of perpetual sunshine, and bowers hanging with golden fruit, +the road was rugged and full of thorns, the sunshine was eclipsed by +shadows, and the mute appeals for help too often were answered by cold +neglect. Poor dusky children of slavery, men and women of my own +race—the transition from slavery to freedom was too sudden for you! The +bright dreams were too rudely dispelled; you were not prepared for the +new life that opened before you, and the great masses of the North +learned to look upon your helplessness with indifference—learned to +speak of you as an idle, dependent race. Reason should have prompted +kinder thoughts. Charity is ever kind.</p> + +<p>One fair summer evening I was walking the streets of Washington, +accompanied by a friend, when a band of music was heard in the distance. +We wondered what it could mean, and curiosity prompted us to find out +its meaning. We quickened our steps, and discovered that it came from +the house of Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> Farnham. The yard was brilliantly lighted, ladies and +gentlemen were moving about, and the band was playing some of its +sweetest airs. We approached the sentinel on duty at the gate, and asked +what was going on. He told us that it was a festival given for the +benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers in the city. This suggested an +idea to me. If the white people can give festivals to raise funds for +the relief of suffering soldiers, why should not the well-to-do colored +people go to work to do something for the benefit of the suffering +blacks? I could not rest. The thought was ever present with me, and the +next Sunday I made a suggestion in the colored church, that a society of +colored people be formed to labor for the benefit of the unfortunate +freedmen. The idea proved popular, and in two weeks "the Contraband +Relief Association" was organized, with forty working members.</p> + +<p>In September of 1862, Mrs. Lincoln left Washington for New York, and +requested me to follow her in a few days, and join her at the +Metropolitan Hotel. I was glad of the opportunity to do so, for I +thought that in New York I would be able to do something in the +interests of our society. Armed with credentials, I took the train for +New York, and went to the Metropolitan, where Mrs. Lincoln had secured +accommodations for me. The next morning I told Mrs. Lincoln of my +project; and she immediately headed my list with a subscription of $200. +I circulated among the colored people, and got them thoroughly +interested in the subject, when I was called to Boston by Mrs. Lincoln, +who wished to visit her son Robert, attending college in that city. I +met Mr. Wendell Phillips, and other Boston philanthropists, who gave me +all the assistance in their power. We held a mass meeting at the Colored +Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes, in Boston, raised a sum of money, and +organized there a branch society. The society was organized by Mrs. +Grimes, wife of the pastor, assisted by Mrs. Martin, wife of Rev. Stella +Martin. This branch of the main society, during the war, was able to +send us over eighty large boxes of goods, contributed exclusively by the +colored people of Boston. Returning to New York, we held a successful +meeting at the Shiloh Church, Rev. Henry Highland Garnet, pastor. The +Metropolitan Hotel, at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> that time as now, employed colored help. I +suggested the object of my mission to Robert Thompson, Steward of the +Hotel, who immediately raised quite a sum of money among the dining-room +waiters. Mr. Frederick Douglass contributed $200, besides lecturing for +us. Other prominent colored men sent in liberal contributions. From +England<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> a large quantity of stores was received. Mrs. Lincoln made +frequent contributions, as also did the President. In 1863 I was +re-elected President of the Association, which office I continue to +hold.</p> + +<p>For two years after Willie's death the White House was the scene of no +fashionable display. The memory of the dead boy was duly respected. In +some things Mrs. Lincoln was an altered woman. Sometimes, when in her +room, with no one present but myself, the mere mention of Willie's name +would excite her emotion, and any trifling memento that recalled him +would move her to tears. She could not bear to look upon his picture; +and after his death she never crossed the threshold of the Guest's Room +in which he died, or the Green Room in which he was embalmed. There was +something supernatural in her dread of these things, and something that +she could not explain. Tad's nature was the opposite of Willie's, and he +was always regarded as his father's favorite child. His black eyes +fairly sparkled with mischief.</p> + +<p>The war progressed, fair fields had been stained with blood, thousands +of brave men had fallen, and thousands of eyes were weeping for the +fallen at home. There were desolate hearthstones in the South as well as +in the North, and as the people of my race watched the sanguinary +struggle, the ebb and flow of the tide of battle, they lifted their +faces Zionward, as if they hoped to catch a glimpse of the Promised Land +beyond the sulphureous clouds of smoke which shifted now and then but to +reveal ghastly rows of new-made graves. Sometimes the very life of the +nation seemed to tremble with the fierce shock of arms. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>In 1863 the +Confederates were flushed with victory, and sometimes it looked as if +the proud flag of the Union, the glorious old Stars and Stripes, must +yield half its nationality to the tri-barred flag that floated grandly +over long columns of gray. These were sad, anxious days to Mr. Lincoln, +and those who saw the man in privacy only could tell how much he +suffered. One day he came into the room where I was fitting a dress on +Mrs. Lincoln. His step was slow and heavy, and his face sad. Like a +tired child he threw himself upon a sofa, and shaded his eyes with his +hands. He was a complete picture of dejection. Mrs. Lincoln, observing +his troubled look, asked:</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, father?"</p> + +<p>"To the War Department," was the brief, almost sullen answer.</p> + +<p>"Any news?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, plenty of news, but no good news. It is dark, dark everywhere."</p> + +<p>He reached forth one of his long arms, and took a small Bible from a +stand near the head of the sofa, opened the pages of the holy book, and +soon was absorbed in reading them. A quarter of an hour passed, and on +glancing at the sofa the face of the President seemed more cheerful. The +dejected look was gone, and the countenance was lighted up with new +resolution and hope. The change was so marked that I could not but +wonder at it, and wonder led to the desire to know what book of the +Bible afforded so much comfort to the reader. Making the search for a +missing article an excuse, I walked gently around the sofa, and looking +into the open book, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was reading that +divine comforter, Job. He read with Christian eagerness, and the courage +and hope that he derived from the inspired pages made him a new man. I +almost imagined that I could hear the Lord speaking to him from out the +whirlwind of battle: "Gird up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of +thee, and declare thou unto me." What a sublime picture was this! A +ruler of a mighty nation going to the pages of the Bible with simple +Christian earnestness for comfort and courage, and finding both in the +darkest hours of a nation's calamity. Ponder it, O ye scoffers at God's +Holy Word, and then hang your heads for very shame!</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Frequent letters were received warning Mr. Lincoln of assassination, but +he never gave a second thought to the mysterious warnings. The letters, +however, sorely troubled his wife. She seemed to read impending danger +in every rustling leaf, in every whisper of the wind.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going now, father?" she would say to him, as she observed +him putting on his overshoes and shawl.</p> + +<p>"I am going over to the War Department, mother, to try and learn some +news."</p> + +<p>"But, father, you should not go out alone. You know you are surrounded +with danger."</p> + +<p>"All imagination. What does any one want to harm me for? Don't worry +about me, mother, as if I were a little child, for no one is going to +molest me;" and with a confident, unsuspecting air he would close the +door behind him, descend the stairs, and pass out to his lonely walk.</p> + +<p>For weeks, when trouble was anticipated, friends of the President would +sleep in the White House to guard him from danger.</p> + +<p>Robert would come home every few months, bringing new joy to the family +circle. He was very anxious to quit school and enter the army, but the +move was sternly opposed by his mother.</p> + +<p>"We have lost one son, and his loss is as much as I can bear, without +being called upon to make another sacrifice," she would say, when the +subject was under discussion.</p> + +<p>"But many a poor mother has given up all her sons," mildly suggested Mr. +Lincoln, "and our son is not more dear to us than the sons of other +people are to their mothers."</p> + +<p>"That may be; but I cannot bear to have Robert exposed to danger. His +services are not required in the field, and the sacrifice would be a +needless one."</p> + +<p>"The services of every man who loves his country are required in this +war. You should take a liberal instead of a selfish view of the +question, mother."</p> + +<p>Argument at last prevailed, and permission was granted Robert to enter +the army. With the rank of Captain and A. D. C. he went to the field, +and remained in the army till the close of the war.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>I well recollect a little incident that gave me a clearer insight into +Robert's character. He was at home at the time the Tom Thumb combination +was at Washington. The marriage of little Hopo'-my-thumb—Charles +Stratton—to Miss Warren created no little excitement in the world, and +the people of Washington participated in the general curiosity. Some of +Mrs. Lincoln's friends made her believe that it was the duty of Mrs. +Lincoln to show some attention to the remarkable dwarfs. Tom Thumb had +been caressed by royalty in the Old World, and why should not the wife +of the President of his native country smile upon him also? Verily, duty +is one of the greatest bugbears in life. A hasty reception was arranged, +and cards of invitation issued. I had dressed Mrs. Lincoln, and she was +ready to go below and receive her guests, when Robert entered his +mother's room.</p> + +<p>"You are at leisure this afternoon, are you not, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother."</p> + +<p>"Of course, then, you will dress and come down-stairs."</p> + +<p>"No, mother, I do not propose to assist in entertaining Tom Thumb. My +notions of duty, perhaps, are somewhat different from yours."</p> + +<p>Robert had a lofty soul, and he could not stoop to all of the follies +and absurdities of the ephemeral current of fashionable life.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln's love for her husband sometimes prompted her to act very +strangely. She was extremely jealous of him, and if a lady desired to +court her displeasure, she could select no surer way to do it than to +pay marked attention to the President. These little jealous freaks often +were a source of perplexity to Mr. Lincoln. If it was a reception for +which they were dressing, he would come into her room to conduct her +downstairs, and while pulling on his gloves ask, with a merry twinkle in +his eyes:</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, who must I talk with to-night—shall it be Mrs. D.?"</p> + +<p>"That deceitful woman! No, you shall not listen to her flattery."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, what do you say to Miss C.? She is too young and handsome +to practise deceit."</p> + +<p>"Young and handsome, you call her! You should not judge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> beauty for me. +No, she is in league with Mrs. D., and you shall not talk with her."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, I must talk with some one. Is there any one that you do +not object to?" trying to button his glove, with a mock expression of +gravity.</p> + +<p>"I don't know as it is necessary that you should talk to anybody in +particular. You know well enough, Mr. Lincoln, that I do not approve of +your flirtations with silly women, just as if you were a beardless boy, +fresh from school."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, I insist that I must talk with somebody. I can't stand +around like a simpleton, and say nothing. If you will not tell me who I +may talk with, please tell me who I may <i>not</i> talk with."</p> + +<p>"There is Mrs. D. and Miss C. in particular. I detest them both. Mrs. B. +also will come around you, but you need not listen to her flattery. +These are the ones in particular."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother; now that we have settled the question to your +satisfaction, we will go down-stairs;" and always with stately dignity, +he proffered his arm and led the way.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noindent"><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[Footnote B]</span></a> The Sheffield Anti-Slavery Society of England contributed +through Mr. Frederick Douglass, to the Freedmen's Relief Association, +$24.00; Aberdeen Ladies' Society, $40.00; Anti-Slavery Society of +Edinburgh, Scotland, $48.00; Friends at Bristol, England, $176.00; +Birmingham Negro's Friend Society, $50.00. Also received through Mr. +Charles R. Douglass, from the Birmingham Society, $33.00.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<h2>CANDID OPINIONS</h2> + + +<p>Often Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln discussed the relations of Cabinet officers, +and gentlemen prominent in politics, in my presence. I soon learned that +the wife of the President had no love for Mr. Salmon P. Chase, at that +time Secretary of the Treasury. She was well versed in human character, +was somewhat suspicious of those by whom she was surrounded, and often +her judgment was correct. Her intuition about the sincerity of +individuals was more accurate than that of her husband. She looked +beyond, and read the reflection of action in the future. Her hostility +to Mr. Chase was very bitter. She claimed that he was a selfish +politician instead of a true patriot, and warned Mr. Lincoln not to +trust him too far. The daughter of the Secretary was quite a belle in +Washington, and Mrs. Lincoln, who was jealous of the popularity of +others, had no desire to build up her social position through political +favor to her father. Miss Chase, now Mrs. Senator Sprague, was a lovely +woman, and was worthy of all the admiration she received. Mr. Lincoln +was more confiding than his wife. He never suspected the fidelity of +those who claimed to be his friends. Honest to the very core himself, +and frank as a child, he never dreamed of questioning the sincerity of +others.</p> + +<p>"Father, I do wish that you would inquire a little into the motives of +Chase," said his wife one day.</p> + +<p>The President was lying carelessly upon a sofa, holding a newspaper in +his hands. "Mother, you are too suspicious. I give you credit for +sagacity, but you are disposed to magnify trifles. Chase is a patriot, +and one of my best friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes, one of your best friends because it is his interest to be so. He +is anything for Chase. If he thought he could make anything by it, he +would betray you to-morrow."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fear that you are prejudiced against the man, mother. I know that you +do him injustice."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincoln, you are either blind or will not see. I am not the only +one that has warned you against him."</p> + +<p>"True, I receive letters daily from all parts of the country, telling me +not to trust Chase; but then these letters are written by the political +enemies of the Secretary, and it would be unjust and foolish to pay any +attention to them."</p> + +<p>"Very well, you will find out some day, if you live long enough, that I +have read the man correctly. I only hope that your eyes may not be +opened to the truth when it is too late." The President, as far as I +could judge from his conversation with his wife, continued to confide in +Mr. Chase to the time of his tragic death.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln was especially severe on Mr. Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of +State. She but rarely lost an opportunity to say an unkind word of him.</p> + +<p>One morning I went to the White House earlier than usual. Mr. Lincoln +was sitting in a chair, reading a paper, stroking with one hand the head +of little Tad. I was basting a dress for Mrs. Lincoln. A servant +entered, and handed the President a letter just brought by a messenger. +He broke the seal, and when he had read the contents his wife asked:</p> + +<p>"Who is the letter from, father?"</p> + +<p>"Seward; I must go over and see him today."</p> + +<p>"Seward! I wish you had nothing to do with that man. He cannot be +trusted."</p> + +<p>"You say the same of Chase. If I listened to you, I should soon be +without a Cabinet."</p> + +<p>"Better be without it than to confide in some of the men that you do. +Seward is worse than Chase. He has no principle."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are mistaken; your prejudices are so violent that you do +not stop to reason. Seward is an able man, and the country as well as +myself can trust him."</p> + +<p>"Father, you are too honest for this world! You should have been born a +saint. You will generally find it a safe rule to distrust a +disappointed, ambitious politician. It makes me mad to see you sit still +and let that hypocrite, Seward, twine you around his finger as if you +were a skein of thread."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is useless to argue the question, mother. You cannot change my +opinion."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln prided herself upon her ability to read character. She was +shrewd and far-seeing, and had no patience with the frank, confiding +nature of the President.</p> + +<p>When Andrew Johnson was urged for military Governor of Tennessee, Mrs. +Lincoln bitterly opposed the appointment.</p> + +<p>"He is a demagogue," she said, almost fiercely, "and if you place him in +power, Mr. Lincoln, mark my words, you will rue it some day."</p> + +<p>General McClellan, when made Commander-in-Chief, was the idol of the +soldiers, and never was a general more universally popular. "He is a +humbug," remarked Mrs. Lincoln one day in my presence.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so, mother?" good-naturedly inquired the +President.</p> + +<p>"Because he talks so much and does so little. If I had the power I would +very soon take off his head, and put some energetic man in his place."</p> + +<p>"But I regard McClellan as a patriot and an able soldier. He has been +much embarrassed. The troops are raw, and the subordinate officers +inclined to be rebellious. There are too many politicians in the army +with shoulder-straps. McClellan is young and popular, and they are +jealous of him. They will kill him off if they can."</p> + +<p>"McClellan can make plenty of excuse for himself, therefore he needs no +advocate in you. If he would only do something, and not promise so much, +I might learn to have a little faith in him. I tell you he is a humbug, +and you will have to find some man to take his place, that is, if you +wish to conquer the South."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln could not tolerate General Grant. "He is a butcher," she +would often say, "and is not fit to be at the head of an army."</p> + +<p>"But he has been very successful in the field," argued the President.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he generally manages to claim a victory, but such a victory! He +loses two men to the enemy's one. He has no management, no regard for +life. If the war should continue four years longer, and he should remain +in power, he would depopulate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> the North. I could fight an army as well +myself. According to his tactics, there is nothing under the heavens to +do but to march a new line of men up in front of the rebel breastworks +to be shot down as fast as they take their position, and keep marching +until the enemy grows tired of the slaughter. Grant, I repeat, is an +obstinate fool and a butcher."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, supposing that we give you command of the army. No doubt +you would do much better than any general that has been tried." There +was a twinkle in the eyes, and a ring of irony in the voice.</p> + +<p>I have often heard Mrs. Lincoln say that if Grant should ever be elected +President of the United States she would desire to leave the country, +and remain absent during his term of office.</p> + +<p>It was well known that Mrs. Lincoln's brothers were in the Confederate +army, and for this reason it was often charged that her sympathies were +with the South. Those who made the hasty charge were never more widely +mistaken.</p> + +<p>One morning, on my way to the White House, I heard that Captain +Alexander Todd, one of her brothers, had been killed. I did not like to +inform Mrs. Lincoln of his death, judging that it would be painful news +to her. I had been in her room but a few minutes when she said, with +apparent unconcern, "Lizzie, I have just heard that one of my brothers +has been killed in the war."</p> + +<p>"I also heard the same, Mrs. Lincoln, but hesitated to speak of it, for +fear the subject would be a painful one to you."</p> + +<p>"You need not hesitate. Of course, it is but natural that I should feel +for one so nearly related to me, but not to the extent that you suppose. +He made his choice long ago. He decided against my husband, and through +him against me. He has been fighting against us; and since he chose to +be our deadly enemy, I see no special reason why I should bitterly mourn +his death."</p> + +<p>I felt relieved, and in subsequent conversations learned that Mrs. +Lincoln had no sympathy for the South. "Why should I sympathize with the +rebels," she would say; "are they not against me? They would hang my +husband to-morrow if it was in their power, and perhaps gibbet me with +him. How then can I sympathize with a people at war with me and mine?" +She always objected to being thought Southern in feeling.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Lincoln was generous by nature, and though his whole heart was in +the war, he could not but respect the valor of those opposed to him. His +soul was too great for the narrow, selfish views of partisanship. Brave +by nature himself, he honored bravery in others, even his foes. Time and +again I have heard him speak in the highest terms of the soldierly +qualities of such brave Confederate generals as Lee, Stonewall Jackson, +and Joseph E. Johns[t]on. Jackson was his ideal soldier. "He is a brave, +honest Presbyterian soldier," were his words; "what a pity that we +should have to fight such a gallant fellow! If we only had such a man to +lead the armies of the North, the country would not be appalled with so +many disasters."</p> + +<p>As this is a rambling chapter, I will here record an incident showing +his feeling toward Robert E. Lee. The very morning of the day on which +he was assassinated, his son, Capt. Robert Lincoln, came into the room +with a portrait of General Lee in his hand. The President took the +picture, laid it on a table before him, scanned the face thoughtfully, +and said: "It is a good face; it is the face of a noble, noble, brave +man. I am glad that the war is over at last." Looking up at Robert, he +continued: "Well, my son, you have returned safely from the front. The +war is now closed, and we soon will live in peace with the brave men +that have been fighting against us. I trust that the era of good feeling +has returned with the war, and that henceforth we shall live in peace. +Now listen to me, Robert: you must lay aside your uniform, and return to +college. I wish you to read law for three years, and at the end of that +time I hope that we will be able to tell whether you will make a lawyer +or not." His face was more cheerful than I had seen it for a long while, +and he seemed to be in a generous, forgiving mood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<h2>BEHIND THE SCENES</h2> + + +<p>Some of the freedmen and freedwomen had exaggerated ideas of liberty. To +them it was a beautiful vision, a land of sunshine, rest and glorious +promise. They flocked to Washington, and since their extravagant hopes +were not realized, it was but natural that many of them should bitterly +feel their disappointment. The colored people are wedded to +associations, and when you destroy these you destroy half of the +happiness of their lives. They make a home, and are so fond of it that +they prefer it, squalid though it be, to the comparative ease and luxury +of a shifting, roaming life. Well, the emancipated slaves, in coming +North, left old associations behind them, and the love for the past was +so strong that they could not find much beauty in the new life so +suddenly opened to them. Thousands of the disappointed, huddled together +in camps, fretted and pined like children for the "good old times." In +visiting them in the interests of the Relief Society of which I was +president, they would crowd around me with pitiful stories of distress. +Often I heard them declare that they would rather go back to slavery in +the South, and be with their old masters, than to enjoy the freedom of +the North. I believe they were sincere in these declarations, because +dependence had become a part of their second nature, and independence +brought with it the cares and vexations of poverty.</p> + +<p>I was very much amused one day at the grave complaints of a good old, +simple-minded woman, fresh from a life of servitude. She had never +ventured beyond a plantation until coming North. The change was too +radical for her, and she could not exactly understand it. She thought, +as many others thought,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> that Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln were the government, +and that the President and his wife had nothing to do but to supply the +extravagant wants of every one that applied to them. The wants of this +old woman, however, were not very extravagant.</p> + +<p>"Why, Missus Keckley," said she to me one day, "I is been here eight +months, and Missus Lingom an't even give me one shife. Bliss God, +childen, if I had ar know dat de Government, and Mister and Missus +Government, was going to do dat ar way, I neber would 'ave comed here in +God's wurld. My old missus us't gib me two shifes eber year."</p> + +<p>I could not restrain a laugh at the grave manner in which this good old +woman entered her protest. Her idea of freedom was two or more old +shifts every year. Northern readers may not fully recognize the pith of +the joke. On the Southern plantation, the mistress, according to +established custom, every year made a present of certain under-garments +to her slaves, which articles were always anxiously looked forward to, +and thankfully received. The old woman had been in the habit of +receiving annually two shifts from her mistress, and she thought the +wife of the President of the United States very mean for overlooking +this established custom of the plantation.</p> + +<p>While some of the emancipated blacks pined for the old associations of +slavery, and refused to help themselves, others went to work with +commendable energy, and planned with remarkable forethought. They built +themselves cabins, and each family cultivated for itself a small patch +of ground. The colored people are fond of domestic life, and with them +domestication means happy children, a fat pig, a dozen or more chickens, +and a garden. Whoever visits the Freedmen's Village now in the vicinity +of Washington will discover all of these evidences of prosperity and +happiness. The schools are objects of much interest. Good teachers, +white and colored, are employed, and whole brigades of bright-eyed dusky +children are there taught the common branches of education. These +children are studious, and the teachers inform me that their advancement +is rapid. I number among my personal friends twelve colored girls +employed as teachers in the schools at Washington. The Colored Mission +Sabbath School, established through the influence of Gen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> Brown at the +Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church, is always an object of great +interest to the residents of the Capital, as well as to the hundreds of +strangers visiting the city.</p> + +<p>In 1864 the receptions again commenced at the White House. For the first +two years of Mr. Lincoln's administration, the President selected a lady +to join in the promenade with him, which left Mrs. Lincoln free to +choose an escort from among the distinguished gentlemen that always +surrounded her on such occasions. This custom at last was discontinued +by Mrs. Lincoln.</p> + +<p>"Lizabeth!"—I was sewing in her room, and she was seated in a +comfortable arm-chair—"Lizabeth, I have been thinking over a little +matter. As you are well aware, the President, at every reception, +selects a lady to lead the promenade with him. Now it occurs to me that +this custom is an absurd one. On such occasions our guests recognize the +position of the President as first of all; consequently, he takes the +lead in everything; well, now, if they recognize his position they +should also recognize mine. I am his wife, and should lead with him. And +yet he offers his arm to any other lady in the room, making her first +with him and placing me second. The custom is an absurd one, and I mean +to abolish it. The dignity that I owe to my position, as Mrs. President, +demands that I should not hesitate any longer to act."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln kept her word. Ever after this, she either led the +promenade with the President, or the President walked alone or with a +gentleman. The change was much remarked, but the reason why it was made, +I believe, was never generally known.</p> + +<p>In 1864 much doubt existed in regard to the re-election of Mr. Lincoln, +and the White House was besieged by all grades of politicians. Mrs. +Lincoln was often blamed for having a certain class of men around her.</p> + +<p>"I have an object in view, Lizabeth," she said to me in reference to +this matter. "In a political canvass it is policy to cultivate every +element of strength. These men have influence, and we require influence +to re-elect Mr. Lincoln. I will be clever to them until after the +election, and then, if we remain at the White House, I will drop every +one of them, and let them know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> very plainly that I only made tools of +them. They are an unprincipled set, and I don't mind a little +double-dealing with them."</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Lincoln know what your purpose is?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"God! no; he would never sanction such a proceeding, so I keep him in +the dark, and will tell him of it when all is over. He is too honest to +take the proper care of his own interests, so I feel it to be my duty to +electioneer for him."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lincoln, as every one knows, was far from handsome. He was not +admired for his graceful figure and finely moulded face, but for the +nobility of his soul and the greatness of his heart. His wife was +different. He was wholly unselfish in every respect, and I believe that +he loved the mother of his children very tenderly. He asked nothing but +affection from her, but did not always receive it. When in one of her +wayward impulsive moods, she was apt to say and do things that wounded +him deeply. If he had not loved her, she would have been powerless to +cloud his thoughtful face, or gild it with a ray of sunshine as she +pleased. We are indifferent to those we do not love, and certainly the +President was not indifferent to his wife. She often wounded him in +unguarded moments, but calm reflection never failed to bring regret.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln was extremely anxious that her husband should be re-elected +President of the United States. In endeavoring to make a display +becoming her exalted position, she had to incur many expenses. Mr. +Lincoln's salary was inadequate to meet them, and she was forced to run +in debt, hoping that good fortune would favor her, and enable her to +extricate herself from an embarrassing situation. She bought the most +expensive goods on credit, and in the summer of 1864 enormous unpaid +bills stared her in the face.</p> + +<p>"What do you think about the election, Lizabeth?" she said to me one +morning.</p> + +<p>"I think that Mr. Lincoln will remain in the White House four years +longer," I replied, looking up from my work.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so? Somehow I have learned to fear that he will be +defeated."</p> + +<p>"Because he has been tried, and has proved faithful to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> best +interests of the country. The people of the North recognize in him an +honest man, and they are willing to confide in him, at least until the +war has been brought to a close. The Southern people made his election a +pretext for rebellion, and now to replace him by some one else, after +years of sanguinary war, would look too much like a surrender of the +North. So, Mr. Lincoln is certain to be re-elected. He represents a +principle, and to maintain this principle the loyal people of the loyal +States will vote for him, even if he had no merits to commend him."</p> + +<p>"Your view is a plausible one, Lizabeth, and your confidence gives me +new hope. If he should be defeated, I do not know what would become of +us all. To me, to him, there is more at stake in this election than he +dreams of."</p> + +<p>"What can you mean, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not comprehend."</p> + +<p>"Simply this. I have contracted large debts, of which he knows nothing, +and which he will be unable to pay if he is defeated."</p> + +<p>"What are your debts, Mrs. Lincoln?"</p> + +<p>"They consist chiefly of store bills. I owe altogether about +twenty-seven thousand dollars; the principal portion at Stewart's, in +New York. You understand, Lizabeth, that Mr. Lincoln has but little idea +of the expense of a woman's wardrobe. He glances at my rich dresses, and +is happy in the belief that the few hundred dollars that I obtain from +him supply all my wants. I must dress in costly materials. The people +scrutinize every article that I wear with critical curiosity. The very +fact of having grown up in the West, subjects me to more searching +observation. To keep up appearances, I must have money—more than Mr. +Lincoln can spare for me. He is too honest to make a penny outside of +his salary; consequently I had, and still have, no alternative but to +run in debt."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Lincoln does not even suspect how much you owe?"</p> + +<p>"God, no!"—this was a favorite expression of hers—"and I would not +have him suspect. If he knew that his wife was involved to the extent +that she is, the knowledge would drive him mad. He is so sincere and +straightforward himself, that he is shocked by the duplicity of others. +He does not know a thing about any debts and I value his happiness, not +to speak of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> own, too much to allow him to know anything. This is +what troubles me so much. If he is re-elected, I can keep him in +ignorance of my affairs; but if he is defeated, then the bills will be +sent in, and he will know all;" and something like a hysterical sob +escaped her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln sometimes feared that the politicians would get hold of the +particulars of her debts, and use them in the Presidential campaign +against her husband; and when this thought occurred to her, she was +almost crazy with anxiety and fear.</p> + +<p>When in one of these excited moods, she would fiercely exclaim—</p> + +<p>"The Republican politicians must pay my debts. Hundreds of them are +getting immensely rich off the patronage of my husband, and it is but +fair that they should help me out of my embarrassment. I will make a +demand of them, and when I tell them the facts they cannot refuse to +advance whatever money I require."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<h2>THE SECOND INAUGURATION</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments one day towards the close of the +summer of 1864, to consult me in relation to a dress. And here let me +remark, I never approved of ladies, attached to the Presidential +household, coming to my rooms. I always thought that it would be more +consistent with their dignity to send for me, and let me come to them, +instead of their coming to me. I may have peculiar notions about some +things, and this may be regarded as one of them. No matter, I have +recorded my opinion. I cannot forget the associations of my early life. +Well, Mrs. Lincoln came to my rooms, and, as usual, she had much to say +about the Presidential election.</p> + +<p>After some conversation, she asked: "Lizzie, where do you think I will +be this time next summer?"</p> + +<p>"Why, in the White House, of course."</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe so. I have no hope of the re-election of Mr. Lincoln. +The canvass is a heated one, the people begin to murmur at the war, and +every vile charge is brought against my husband."</p> + +<p>"No matter," I replied, "Mr. Lincoln will be re-elected. I am so +confident of it, that I am tempted to ask a favor of you."</p> + +<p>"A favor! Well, if we remain in the White House I shall be able to do +you many favors. What is the special favor?"</p> + +<p>"Simply this, Mrs. Lincoln—I should like for you to make me a present +of the right-hand glove that the President wears at the first public +reception after his second inaugural."</p> + +<p>"You shall have it in welcome. It will be so filthy when he pulls it +off, I shall be tempted to take the tongs and put it in the fire. I +cannot imagine, Lizabeth, what you want with such a glove."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I shall cherish it as a precious memento of the second inauguration of +the man who has done so much for my race. He has been a Jehovah to my +people—has lifted them out of bondage, and directed their footsteps +from darkness into light. I shall keep the glove, and hand it down to +posterity."</p> + +<p>"You have some strange ideas, Lizabeth. Never mind, you shall have the +glove; that is, if Mr. Lincoln continues President after the 4th of +March next."</p> + +<p>I held Mrs. Lincoln to her promise. That glove is now in my possession, +bearing the marks of the thousands of hands that grasped the honest hand +of Mr. Lincoln on that eventful night. Alas! it has become a prouder, +sadder memento than I ever dreamed—prior to making the request—it +would be.</p> + +<p>In due time the election came off, and all of my predictions were +verified. The loyal States decided that Mr. Lincoln should continue at +the nation's helm. Autumn faded, winter dragged slowly by, and still the +country resounded with the clash of arms. The South was suffering, yet +suffering was borne with heroic determination, and the army continued to +present a bold, defiant front. With the first early breath of spring, +thousands of people gathered in Washington to witness the second +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. It +was a stirring day in the National Capital, and one that will never fade +from the memory of those who witnessed the imposing ceremonies. The +morning was dark and gloomy; clouds hung like a pall in the sky, as if +portending some great disaster. But when the President stepped forward +to receive the oath of office, the clouds parted, and a ray of sunshine +streamed from the heavens to fall upon and gild his face. It is also +said that a brilliant star was seen at noon-day. It was the noon-day of +life with Mr. Lincoln, and the star, as viewed in the light of +subsequent events, was emblematic of a summons from on high. This was +Saturday, and on Monday evening I went to the White House to dress Mrs. +Lincoln for the first grand levee. While arranging Mrs. L.'s hair, the +President came in. It was the first time I had seen him since the +inauguration, and I went up to him, proffering my hand with words of +congratulation.</p> + +<p>He grasped my outstretched hand warmly, and held it while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> he spoke: +"Thank you. Well, Madam Elizabeth"—he always called me Madam +Elizabeth—"I don't know whether I should feel thankful or not. The +position brings with it many trials. We do not know what we are destined +to pass through. But God will be with us all. I put my trust in God." He +dropped my hand, and with solemn face walked across the room and took +his seat on the sofa. Prior to this I had congratulated Mrs. Lincoln, +and she had answered with a sigh, "Thank you, Elizabeth; but now that we +have won the position, I almost wish it were otherwise. Poor Mr. Lincoln +is looking so broken-hearted, so completely worn out, I fear he will not +get through the next four years." Was it a presentiment that made her +take a sad view of the future? News from the front was never more +cheering. On every side the Confederates were losing ground, and the +lines of blue were advancing in triumph. As I would look out my window +almost every day, I could see the artillery going past on its way to the +open space of ground, to fire a salute in honor of some new victory. +From every point came glorious news of the success of the soldiers that +fought for the Union. And yet, in their private chamber, away from the +curious eyes of the world, the President and his wife wore sad, anxious +faces.</p> + +<p>I finished dressing Mrs. Lincoln, and she took the President's arm and +went below. It was one of the largest receptions ever held in +Washington. Thousands crowded the halls and rooms of the White House, +eager to shake Mr. Lincoln by his hand, and receive a gracious smile +from his wife. The jam was terrible, and the enthusiasm great. The +President's hand was well shaken, and the next day, on visiting Mrs. +Lincoln, I received the soiled glove that Mr. Lincoln had worn on his +right hand that night.</p> + +<p>Many colored people were in Washington, and large numbers had desired to +attend the levee, but orders were issued not to admit them. A gentleman, +a member of Congress, on his way to the White House, recognized Mr. +Frederick Douglass, the eloquent colored orator, on the outskirts of the +crowd.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Douglass? A fearful jam to-night. You are going in, +of course?"</p> + +<p>"No—that is, no to your last question."</p> + +<p>"Not going in to shake the President by the hand! Why, pray?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The best reason in the world. Strict orders have been issued not to +admit people of color."</p> + +<p>"It is a shame, Mr. Douglass, that you should thus be placed under ban. +Never mind; wait here, and I will see what can be done."</p> + +<p>The gentleman entered the White House, and working his way to the +President, asked permission to introduce Mr. Douglass to him.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Mr. Lincoln. "Bring Mr. Douglass in, by all means. I +shall be glad to meet him."</p> + +<p>The gentleman returned, and soon Mr. Douglass stood face to face with +the President. Mr. Lincoln pressed his hand warmly, saying: "Mr. +Douglass, I am glad to meet you. I have long admired your course, and I +value your opinions highly."</p> + +<p>Mr. Douglass was very proud of the manner in which Mr. Lincoln received +him. On leaving the White House he came to a friend's house where a +reception was being held, and he related the incident with great +pleasure to myself and others.</p> + +<p>On the Monday following the reception at the White House, everybody was +busy preparing for the grand inaugural ball to come off that night. I +was in Mrs. Lincoln's room the greater portion of the day. While +dressing her that night, the President came in, and I remarked to him +how much Mr. Douglass had been pleased on the night he was presented to +Mr. Lincoln. Mrs. L. at once turned to her husband with the inquiry, +"Father, why was not Mr. Douglass introduced to me?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I thought he was presented."</p> + +<p>"But he was not."</p> + +<p>"It must have been an oversight then, mother; I am sorry you did not +meet him."</p> + +<p>I finished dressing her for the ball, and accompanied her to the door. +She was dressed magnificently, and entered the ball-room leaning on the +arm of Senator Sumner, a gentleman that she very much admired. Mr. +Lincoln walked into the ball-room accompanied by two gentlemen. This +ball closed the season. It was the last time that the President and his +wife ever appeared in public.</p> + +<p>Some days after, Mrs. Lincoln, with a party of friends, went to City +Point on a visit.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln had returned to Washington prior to the 2d of April. On +Monday, April 3d, Mrs. Secretary Harlan came into my room with material +for a dress. While conversing with her, I saw artillery pass the window; +and as it was on its way to fire a salute, I inferred that good news had +been received at the War Department. My reception-room was on one side +of the street, and my work-room on the other side. Inquiring the cause +of the demonstration, we were told that Richmond had fallen. Mrs. Harlan +took one of my hands in each of her own, and we rejoiced together. I ran +across to my work-room, and on entering it, discovered that the girls in +my employ also had heard the good news. They were particularly elated, +as it was reported that the rebel capital had surrendered to colored +troops. I had promised my employees a holiday when Richmond should fall; +and now that Richmond had fallen, they reminded me of my promise.</p> + +<p>I recrossed to my reception-room, and Mrs. Harlan told me that the good +news was enough for her—she could afford to wait for her dress, and to +give the girls a holiday and a treat, by all means. She returned to her +house, and I joined my girls in the joy of the long-promised holiday. We +wandered about the streets of the city with happy faces, and hearts +overflowing with joy. The clerks in the various departments also enjoyed +a holiday, and they improved it by getting gloriously fuddled. Towards +evening I saw S., and many other usually clear-headed men, in the +street, in a confused, uncertain state of mind.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln had invited me to accompany her to City Point. I went to +the White House, and told her that if she intended to return, I would +regard it as a privilege to go with her, as City Point was near +Petersburg, my old home. Mrs. L. said she designed returning, and would +be delighted to take me with her; so it was arranged that I should +accompany her.</p> + +<p>A few days after we were on board the steamer, <i>en route</i> for City +Point. Mrs. Lincoln was joined by Mrs. Secretary Harlan and daughter, +Senator Sumner, and several other gentlemen.</p> + +<p>Prior to this, Mr. Lincoln had started for City Point, and before we +reached our destination he had visited Richmond, Petersburg, and other +points. We arrived on Friday, and Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> Lincoln was much disappointed +when she learned that the President had visited the late Confederate +capital, as she had greatly desired to be with him when he entered the +conquered stronghold. It was immediately arranged that the entire party +on board the River Queen should visit Richmond, and other points, with +the President. The next morning, after the arrangement was perfected, we +were steaming up James River—the river that so long had been +impassable, even to our gunboats. The air was balmy, and the banks of +the river were beautiful, and fragrant with the first sweet blossoms of +spring. For hours I stood on deck, breathing the pure air, and viewing +the landscape on either side of the majestically flowing river. Here +stretched fair fields, emblematic of peace—and here deserted camps and +frowning forts, speaking of the stern vicissitudes of war. Alas! how +many changes had taken place since my eye had wandered over the classic +fields of dear old Virginia! A birthplace is always dear, no matter +under what circumstances you were born, since it revives in memory the +golden hours of childhood, free from philosophy, and the warm kiss of a +mother. I wondered if I should catch a glimpse of a familiar face; I +wondered what had become of those I once knew; had they fallen in +battle, been scattered by the relentless tide of war, or were they still +living as they lived when last I saw them? I wondered, now that Richmond +had fallen, and Virginia been restored to the clustering stars of the +Union, if the people would come together in the bonds of peace; and as I +gazed and wondered, the River Queen rapidly carried us to our +destination.</p> + +<p>The Presidential party were all curiosity on entering Richmond. They +drove about the streets of the city, and examined every object of +interest. The Capitol presented a desolate appearance—desks broken, and +papers scattered promiscuously in the hurried flight of the Confederate +Congress. I picked up a number of papers, and, by curious coincidence, +the resolution prohibiting all free colored people from entering the +State of Virginia. In the Senate chamber I sat in the chair that +Jefferson Davis sometimes occupied; also in the chair of the +Vice-President, Alexander H. Stephens. We paid a visit to the mansion +occupied by Mr. Davis and family during the war, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> ladies who +were in charge of it scowled darkly upon our party as we passed through +and inspected the different rooms. After a delightful visit we returned +to City Point.</p> + +<p>That night, in the cabin of the River Queen, smiling faces gathered +around the dinner-table. One of the guests was a young officer attached +to the Sanitary Commission. He was seated near Mrs. Lincoln, and, by way +of pleasantry, remarked: "Mrs. Lincoln, you should have seen the +President the other day, on his triumphal entry into Richmond. He was +the cynosure of all eyes. The ladies kissed their hands to him, and +greeted him with the waving of handkerchiefs. He is quite a hero when +surrounded by pretty young ladies."</p> + +<p>The young officer suddenly paused with a look of embarrassment. Mrs. +Lincoln turned to him with flashing eyes, with the remark that his +familiarity was offensive to her. Quite a scene followed, and I do not +think that the Captain who incurred Mrs. Lincoln's displeasure will ever +forget that memorable evening in the cabin of the River Queen, at City +Point.</p> + +<p>Saturday morning the whole party decided to visit Petersburg, and I was +only too eager to accompany them.</p> + +<p>When we arrived at the city, numbers crowded around the train, and a +little ragged negro boy ventured timidly into the car occupied by Mr. +Lincoln and immediate friends, and in replying to numerous questions, +used the word "tote."</p> + +<p>"Tote," remarked Mr. Lincoln; "what do you mean by tote?"</p> + +<p>"Why, massa, to tote um on your back."</p> + +<p>"Very definite, my son; I presume when you tote a thing, you carry it. +By the way, Sumner," turning to the Senator, "what is the origin of +tote?"</p> + +<p>"Its origin is said to be African. The Latin word <i>totum</i>, from <i>totus</i>, +means all—an entire body—the whole."</p> + +<p>"But my young friend here did not mean an entire body, or anything of +the kind, when he said he would tote my things for me," interrupted the +President.</p> + +<p>"Very true," continued the Senator. "He used the word tote in the +African sense, to carry, to bear. Tote in this sense is defined in our +standard dictionaries as a colloquial word of the Southern States, used +especially by the negroes."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you regard the word as a good one?"</p> + +<p>"Not elegant, certainly. For myself, I should prefer a better word; but +since it has been established by usage, I cannot refuse to recognize +it."</p> + +<p>Thus the conversation proceeded in pleasant style.</p> + +<p>Getting out of the car, the President and those with him went to visit +the forts and other scenes, while I wandered off by myself in search of +those whom I had known in other days. War, grim-visaged war, I soon +discovered had brought many changes to the city so well known to me in +the days of my youth. I found a number of old friends, but the greater +portion of the population were strange to me. The scenes suggested +painful memories, and I was not sorry to turn my back again upon the +city. A large, peculiarly shaped oak tree, I well remember, attracted +the particular attention of the President; it grew upon the outskirts of +Petersburg, and as he had discovered it on his first visit, a few days +previous to the second, he insisted that the party should go with him to +take a look at the isolated and magnificent specimen of the stately +grandeur of the forest. Every member of the party was only too willing +to accede to the President's request, and the visit to the oak was made, +and much enjoyed.</p> + +<p>On our return to City Point from Petersburg the train moved slowly, and +the President, observing a terrapin basking in the warm sunshine on the +wayside, had the conductor stop the train, and one of the brakemen bring +the terrapin in to him. The movements of the ungainly little animal +seemed to delight him, and he amused himself with it until we reached +James River, where our steamer lay. Tad stood near, and joined in the +happy laugh with his father.</p> + +<p>For a week the River Queen remained in James River, anchored the greater +portion of the time at City Point, and a pleasant and memorable week was +it to all on board. During the whole of this time a yacht lay in the +stream about a quarter of a mile distant, and its peculiar movements +attracted the attention of all on board. General Grant and Mrs. Grant +were on our steamer several times, and many distinguished officers of +the army also were entertained by the President and his party.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lincoln, when not off on an excursion of any kind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> lounged about +the boat, talking familiarly with every one that approached him.</p> + +<p>The day before we started on our journey back to Washington, Mr. Lincoln +was engaged in reviewing the troops in camp. He returned to the boat in +the evening, with a tired, weary look.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said to his wife, "I have shaken so many hands to-day that +my arms ache tonight. I almost wish that I could go to bed now."</p> + +<p>As the twilight shadows deepened the lamps were lighted, and the boat +was brilliantly illuminated; as it lay in the river, decked with +many-colored lights, it looked like an enchanted floating palace. A +military band was on board, and as the hours lengthened into night it +discoursed sweet music. Many officers came on board to say good-by, and +the scene was a brilliant one indeed. About 10 o'clock Mr. Lincoln was +called upon to make a speech. Rising to his feet, he said:</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I am too tired to speak +to-night. On next Tuesday night I make a speech in Washington, at which +time you will learn all I have to say. And now, by way of parting from +the brave soldiers of our gallant army, I call upon the band to play +Dixie. It has always been a favorite of mine, and since we have captured +it, we have a perfect right to enjoy it." On taking his seat the band at +once struck up with Dixie, that sweet, inspiring air; and when the music +died away, there were clapping of hands and other manifestations of +applause.</p> + +<p>At 11 o'clock the last good-by was spoken, the lights were taken down, +the River Queen rounded out into the water and we were on our way back +to Washington. We arrived at the Capital at 6 o'clock on Sunday evening, +where the party separated, each going to his and her own home. This was +one of the most delightful trips of my life, and I always revert to it +with feelings of genuine pleasure.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<h2>THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN</h2> + + +<p>I had never heard Mr. Lincoln make a public speech, and, knowing the man +so well, was very anxious to hear him. On the morning of the Tuesday +after our return from City Point, Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments, +and before she drove away I asked permission to come to the White House +that night and hear Mr. Lincoln speak.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Lizabeth; if you take any interest in political speeches, +come and listen in welcome."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln. May I trespass further on your kindness by +asking permission to bring a friend with me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, bring your friend also. By the way, come in time to dress me +before the speaking commences."</p> + +<p>"I will be in time. You may rely upon that. Good morning," I added, as +she swept from my room, and, passing out into the street, entered her +carriage and drove away.</p> + +<p>About 7 o'clock that evening I entered the White House. As I went +up-stairs I glanced into Mr. Lincoln's room through the half-open door, +and seated by a desk was the President, looking over his notes and +muttering to himself. His face was thoughtful, his manner abstracted, +and I knew, as I paused a moment to watch him, that he was rehearsing +the part that he was to play in the great drama soon to commence.</p> + +<p>Proceeding to Mrs. Lincoln's apartment, I worked with busy fingers, and +in a short time her toilette was completed.</p> + +<p>Great crowds began to gather in front of the White House, and loud calls +were made for the President. The band stopped playing, and as he +advanced to the centre window over the door to make his address, I +looked out, and never saw such a mass of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> heads before. It was like a +black, gently swelling sea. The swaying motion of the crowd, in the dim +uncertain light, was like the rising and falling of billows—like the +ebb and flow of the tide upon the stranded shore of the ocean. Close to +the house the faces were plainly discernible, but they faded into mere +ghostly outlines on the outskirts of the assembly; and what added to the +weird, spectral beauty of the scene, was the confused hum of voices that +rose above the sea of forms, sounding like the subdued, sullen roar of +an ocean storm, or the wind soughing through the dark lonely forest. It +was a grand and imposing scene, and when the President, with pale face +and his soul flashing through his eyes, advanced to speak, he looked +more like a demigod than a man crowned with the fleeting days of +mortality.</p> + +<p>The moment the President appeared at the window he was greeted with a +storm of applause, and voices re-echoed the cry, "A light! a light!"</p> + +<p>A lamp was brought, and little Tad at once rushed to his father's side, +exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Let me hold the light, Papa! let me hold the light!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln directed that the wish of her son be gratified, and the +lamp was transferred to his hands. The father and son standing there in +the presence of thousands of free citizens, the one lost in a chain of +eloquent ideas, the other looking up into the speaking face with a +proud, manly look, formed a beautiful and striking tableau.</p> + +<p>There were a number of distinguished gentlemen, as well as ladies, in +the room, nearly all of whom remarked the picture.</p> + +<p>I stood a short distance from Mr. Lincoln, and as the light from the +lamp fell full upon him, making him stand out boldly in the darkness, a +sudden thought struck me, and I whispered to the friend at my side:</p> + +<p>"What an easy matter would it be to kill the President, as he stands +there! He could be shot down from the crowd, and no one be able to tell +who fired the shot."</p> + +<p>I do not know what put such an idea into my head, unless it was the +sudden remembrance of the many warnings that Mr. Lincoln had received.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next day, I made mention to Mrs. Lincoln of the idea that had +impressed me so strangely the night before, and she replied with a sigh:</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Mr. Lincoln's life is always exposed. Ah, no one knows what +it is to live in constant dread of some fearful tragedy. The President +has been warned so often, that I tremble for him on every public +occasion. I have a presentiment that he will meet with a sudden and +violent end. I pray God to protect my beloved husband from the hands of +the assassin."</p> + +<p>Mr. Lincoln was fond of pets. He had two goats that knew the sound of +his voice, and when he called them they would come bounding to his side. +In the warm bright days, he and Tad would sometimes play in the yard +with these goats, for an hour at a time. One Saturday afternoon I went +to the White House to dress Mrs. Lincoln. I had nearly completed my task +when the President came in. It was a bright day, and walking to the +window, he looked down into the yard, smiled, and, turning to me, asked:</p> + +<p>"Madam Elizabeth, you are fond of pets, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"O yes, sir," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, come here and look at my two goats. I believe they are the +kindest and best goats in the world. See how they sniff the clear air, +and skip and play in the sunshine. Whew! what a jump," he exclaimed as +one of the goats made a lofty spring. "Madam Elizabeth, did you ever +before see such an active goat?" Musing a moment, he continued: "He +feeds on my bounty, and jumps with joy. Do you think we could call him a +bounty-jumper? But I flatter the bounty-jumper. My goat is far above +him. I would rather wear his horns and hairy coat through life, than +demean myself to the level of the man who plunders the national treasury +in the name of patriotism. The man who enlists into the service for a +consideration, and deserts the moment he receives his money but to +repeat the play, is bad enough; but the men who manipulate the grand +machine and who simply make the bounty-jumper their agent in an +outrageous fraud are far worse. They are beneath the worms that crawl in +the dark hidden places of earth."</p> + +<p>His lips curled with haughty scorn, and a cloud was gathering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> on his +brow. Only a moment the shadow rested on his face. Just then both goats +looked up at the window and shook their heads as if they would say "How +d'ye do, old friend?"</p> + +<p>"See, Madam Elizabeth," exclaimed the President in a tone of enthusiasm, +"my pets recognize me. How earnestly they look! There they go again; +what jolly fun!" and he laughed outright as the goats bounded swiftly to +the other side of the yard. Just then Mrs. Lincoln called out, "Come, +Lizabeth; if I get ready to go down this evening I must finish dressing +myself, or you must stop staring at those silly goats."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln was not fond of pets, and she could not understand how Mr. +Lincoln could take so much delight in his goats. After Willie's death, +she could not bear the sight of anything he loved, not even a flower. +Costly bouquets were presented to her, but she turned from them with a +shudder, and either placed them in a room where she could not see them, +or threw them out of the window. She gave all of Willie's +toys—everything connected with him—away, as she said she could not +look upon them without thinking of her poor dead boy, and to think of +him, in his white shroud and cold grave, was maddening. I never in my +life saw a more peculiarly constituted woman. Search the world over, and +you will not find her counterpart. After Mr. Lincoln's death, the goats +that he loved so well were given away—I believe to Mrs. Lee, <i>née</i> Miss +Blair, one of the few ladies with whom Mrs. Lincoln was on intimate +terms in Washington.</p> + +<p>During my residence in the Capital I made my home with Mr. and Mrs. +Walker Lewis, people of my own race, and friends in the truest sense of +the word.</p> + +<p>The days passed without any incident of particular note disturbing the +current of life. On Friday morning, April 14th—alas! what American does +not remember the day—I saw Mrs. Lincoln but for a moment. She told me +that she was to attend the theatre that night with the President, but I +was not summoned to assist her in making her toilette. Sherman had swept +from the northern border of Georgia through the heart of the Confederacy +down to the sea, striking the death-blow to the rebellion. Grant had +pursued General Lee beyond Richmond, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> the army of Virginia, that had +made such stubborn resistance, was crumbling to pieces. Fort Sumter had +fallen;—the stronghold first wrenched from the Union; and which had +braved the fury of Federal guns for so many years, was restored to the +Union; the end of the war was near at hand, and the great pulse of the +loyal North thrilled with joy. The dark war-cloud was fading, and a +white-robed angel seemed to hover in the sky, whispering "Peace—peace +on earth, good-will toward men!" Sons, brothers, fathers, friends, +sweethearts were coming home. Soon the white tents would be folded, the +volunteer army be disbanded, and tranquillity again reign. Happy, happy +day!—happy at least to those who fought under the banner of the Union. +There was great rejoicing throughout the North. From the Atlantic to the +Pacific, flags were gayly thrown to the breeze, and at night every city +blazed with its tens of thousand lights. But scarcely had the fireworks +ceased to play, and the lights been taken down from the windows, when +the lightning flashed the most appalling news over the magnetic wires. +"The President has been murdered!" spoke the swift-winged messenger, and +the loud huzza died upon the lips. A nation suddenly paused in the midst +of festivity, and stood paralyzed with horror—transfixed with awe.</p> + +<p>Oh, memorable day! Oh, memorable night! Never before was joy so +violently contrasted with sorrow.</p> + +<p>At 11 o'clock at night I was awakened by an old friend and neighbor, +Miss M. Brown, with the startling intelligence that the entire Cabinet +had been assassinated, and Mr. Lincoln shot, but not mortally wounded. +When I heard the words I felt as if the blood had been frozen in my +veins, and that my lungs must collapse for the want of air. Mr. Lincoln +shot! the Cabinet assassinated! What could it mean? The streets were +alive with wondering, awe-stricken people. Rumors flew thick and fast, +and the wildest reports came with every new arrival. The words were +repeated with blanched cheeks and quivering lips. I waked Mr. and Mrs. +Lewis, and told them that the President was shot, and that I must go to +the White House. I could not remain in a state of uncertainty. I felt +that the house would not hold me. They tried to quiet me, but gentle +words could not calm the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> wild tempest. They quickly dressed themselves, +and we sallied out into the street to drift with the excited throng. We +walked rapidly towards the White House, and on our way passed the +residence of Secretary Seward, which was surrounded by armed soldiers, +keeping back all intruders with the point of the bayonet. We hurried on, +and as we approached the White House, saw that it too was surrounded +with soldiers. Every entrance was strongly guarded, and no one was +permitted to pass. The guard at the gate told us that Mr. Lincoln had +not been brought home, but refused to give any other information. More +excited than ever, we wandered down the street. Grief and anxiety were +making me weak, and as we joined the outskirts of a large crowd, I began +to feel as meek and humble as a penitent child. A gray-haired old man +was passing. I caught a glimpse of his face, and it seemed so full of +kindness and sorrow that I gently touched his arm, and imploringly +asked:</p> + +<p>"Will you please, sir, to tell me whether Mr. Lincoln is dead or not?"</p> + +<p>"Not dead," he replied, "but dying. God help us!" and with a heavy step +he passed on.</p> + +<p>"Not dead, but dying! then indeed God help us!"</p> + +<p>We learned that the President was mortally wounded—that he had been +shot down in his box at the theatre, and that he was not expected to +live till morning; when we returned home with heavy hearts. I could not +sleep. I wanted to go to Mrs. Lincoln, as I pictured her wild with +grief; but then I did not know where to find her, and I must wait till +morning. Never did the hours drag so slowly. Every moment seemed an age, +and I could do nothing but walk about and hold my arms in mental agony.</p> + +<p>Morning came at last, and a sad morning was it. The flags that floated +so gayly yesterday now were draped in black, and hung in silent folds at +half-mast. The President was dead, and a nation was mourning for him. +Every house was draped in black, and every face wore a solemn look. +People spoke in subdued tones, and glided whisperingly, wonderingly, +silently about the streets.</p> + +<p>About eleven o'clock on Saturday morning a carriage drove up to the +door, and a messenger asked for "Elizabeth Keckley."</p> + +<p>"Who wants her?" I asked.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I come from Mrs. Lincoln. If you are Mrs. Keckley, come with me +immediately to the White House."</p> + +<p>I hastily put on my shawl and bonnet, and was driven at a rapid rate to +the White House. Everything about the building was sad and solemn. I was +quickly shown to Mrs. Lincoln's room, and on entering, saw Mrs. L. +tossing uneasily about upon a bed. The room was darkened, and the only +person in it besides the widow of the President was Mrs. Secretary +Welles, who had spent the night with her. Bowing to Mrs. Welles, I went +to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not come to me last night, Elizabeth—I sent for you?" Mrs. +Lincoln asked in a low whisper.</p> + +<p>"I did try to come to you, but I could not find you," I answered, as I +laid my hand upon her hot brow.</p> + +<p>I afterwards learned, that when she had partially recovered from the +first shock of the terrible tragedy in the theatre, Mrs. Welles asked:</p> + +<p>"Is there no one, Mrs. Lincoln, that you desire to have with you in this +terrible affliction?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, send for Elizabeth Keckley. I want her just as soon as she can be +brought here."</p> + +<p>Three messengers, it appears, were successively despatched for me, but +all of them mistook the number and failed to find me.</p> + +<p>Shortly after entering the room on Saturday morning, Mrs. Welles excused +herself, as she said she must go to her own family, and I was left alone +with Mrs. Lincoln.</p> + +<p>She was nearly exhausted with grief, and when she became a little quiet, +I asked and received permission to go into the Guests' Room, where the +body of the President lay in state. When I crossed the threshold of the +room, I could not help recalling the day on which I had seen little +Willie lying in his coffin where the body of his father now lay. I +remembered how the President had wept over the pale beautiful face of +his gifted boy, and now the President himself was dead. The last time I +saw him he spoke kindly to me, but alas! the lips would never move +again. The light had faded from his eyes, and when the light went out +the soul went with it. What a noble soul was his—noble in all the noble +attributes of God! Never did I enter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> the solemn chamber of death with +such palpitating heart and trembling footsteps as I entered it that day. +No common mortal had died. The Moses of my people had fallen in the hour +of his triumph. Fame had woven her choicest chaplet for his brow. Though +the brow was cold and pale in death, the chaplet should not fade, for +God had studded it with the glory of the eternal stars.</p> + +<p>When I entered the room, the members of the Cabinet and many +distinguished officers of the army were grouped around the body of their +fallen chief. They made room for me, and, approaching the body, I lifted +the white cloth from the white face of the man that I had worshipped as +an idol—looked upon as a demi-god. Notwithstanding the violence of the +death of the President, there was something beautiful as well as grandly +solemn in the expression of the placid face. There lurked the sweetness +and gentleness of childhood, and the stately grandeur of godlike +intellect. I gazed long at the face, and turned away with tears in my +eyes and a choking sensation in my throat. Ah! never was man so widely +mourned before. The whole world bowed their heads in grief when Abraham +Lincoln died.</p> + +<p>Returning to Mrs. Lincoln's room, I found her in a new paroxysm of +grief. Robert was bending over his mother with tender affection, and +little Tad was crouched at the foot of the bed with a world of agony in +his young face. I shall never forget the scene—the wails of a broken +heart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, the wild, +tempestuous outbursts of grief from the soul. I bathed Mrs. Lincoln's +head with cold water, and soothed the terrible tornado as best I could. +Tad's grief at his father's death was as great as the grief of his +mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy into silence. Sometimes +he would throw his arms around her neck, and exclaim, between his broken +sobs, "Don't cry so, Mamma! don't cry, or you will make me cry, too! You +will break my heart."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln could not bear to hear Tad cry, and when he would plead to +her not to break his heart, she would calm herself with a great effort, +and clasp her child in her arms.</p> + +<p>Every room in the White House was darkened, and every one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> spoke in +subdued tones, and moved about with muffled tread. The very atmosphere +breathed of the great sorrow which weighed heavily upon each heart. Mrs. +Lincoln never left her room, and while the body of her husband was being +borne in solemn state from the Atlantic to the broad prairies of the +West, she was weeping with her fatherless children in her private +chamber. She denied admittance to almost every one, and I was her only +companion, except her children, in the days of her great sorrow.</p> + +<p>There were many surmises as to who was implicated with J. Wilkes Booth +in the assassination of the President. A new messenger had accompanied +Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln to the theatre on that terrible Friday night. It +was the duty of this messenger to stand at the door of the box during +the performance, and thus guard the inmates from all intrusion. It +appears that the messenger was carried away by the play, and so +neglected his duty that Booth gained easy admission to the box. Mrs. +Lincoln firmly believed that this messenger was implicated in the +assassination plot.</p> + +<p>One night I was lying on a lounge near the bed occupied by Mrs. Lincoln. +One of the servants entering the room, Mrs. L. asked:</p> + +<p>"Who is on watch to-night?"</p> + +<p>"The new messenger," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"What! the man who attended us to the theatre on the night my dear, good +husband was murdered! He, I believe, is one of the murderers. Tell him +to come in to me."</p> + +<p>The messenger had overheard Mrs. Lincoln's words through the half-open +door, and when he came in he was trembling violently.</p> + +<p>She turned to him fiercely: "So you are on guard to-night—on guard in +the White House after helping to murder the President!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, but I did not help to murder the President. I could never +stoop to murder—much less to the murder of so good and great a man as +the President."</p> + +<p>"But it appears that you <i>did</i> stoop to murder."</p> + +<p>"No, no! don't say that," he broke in. "God knows that I am innocent."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't believe you. Why were you not at the door to keep the assassin +out when he rushed into the box?"</p> + +<p>"I did wrong, I admit, and I have bitterly repented it, but I did not +help to kill the President. I did not believe that any one would try to +kill so good a man in such a public place, and the belief made me +careless. I was attracted by the play, and did not see the assassin +enter the box."</p> + +<p>"But you should have seen him. You had no business to be careless. I +shall always believe that you are guilty. Hush! I shan't hear another +word," she exclaimed, as the messenger essayed to reply. "Go now and +keep your watch," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand. With +mechanical step and white face the messenger left the room, and Mrs. +Lincoln fell back on her pillow, covered her face with her hands, and +commenced sobbing.</p> + +<p>Robert was very tender to his mother in the days of her sorrow.</p> + +<p>He suffered deeply, as his haggard face indicated, but he was ever manly +and collected when in the presence of his mother. Mrs. Lincoln was +extremely nervous, and she refused to have anybody about her but myself. +Many ladies called, but she received none of them. Had she been less +secluded in her grief, perhaps she would have had many warmer friends +to-day than she has. But far be it from me to harshly judge the sorrow +of any one. Could the ladies who called to condole with Mrs. Lincoln, +after the death of her husband, and who were denied admittance to her +chamber, have seen how completely prostrated she was with grief, they +would have learned to speak more kindly of her. Often at night, when Tad +would hear her sobbing, he would get up, and come to her bed in his +white sleeping-clothes: "Don't cry, Mamma; I cannot sleep if you cry! +Papa was good, and he has gone to heaven. He is happy there. He is with +God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma, or I will cry too."</p> + +<p>The closing appeal always proved the most effectual, as Mrs. Lincoln +could not bear to hear her child cry.</p> + +<p>Tad had been petted by his father, but petting could not spoil such a +manly nature as his. He seemed to realize that he was the son of a +President—to realize it in its loftiest and noblest sense. One morning, +while being dressed, he looked up at his nurse,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> and said: "Pa is dead. +I can hardly believe that I shall never see him again. I must learn to +take care of myself now." He looked thoughtful a moment, then added, +"Yes, Pa is dead, and I am only Tad Lincoln now, little Tad, like other +little boys. I am not a President's son now. I won't have many presents +any more. Well, I will try and be a good boy, and will hope to go some +day to Pa and brother Willie, in heaven." He was a brave, manly child, +and knew that influence had passed out of their hands with the death of +his father, and that his position in life was altered. He seemed to feel +that people petted him, and gave him presents, because they wanted to +please the President of the United States. From that period forward he +became more independent, and in a short time learned to dispense with +the services of a nurse. While in Chicago, I saw him get out his clothes +one Sunday morning and dress himself, and the change was such a great +one to me—for while in the White House, servants obeyed his every nod +and bid—that I could scarcely refrain from shedding tears. Had his +father lived, I knew it would have been different with his favorite boy. +Tad roomed with Robert, and he always took pride in pleasing his +brother.</p> + +<p>After the Committee had started West with the body of the President, +there was quite a breeze of excitement for a few days as to where the +remains should be interred. Secretary Stanton and others held frequent +conferences with Robert, Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lincoln's cousin, and Dr. Henry, +an old schoolmate and friend of Mr. Lincoln. The city authorities of +Springfield had purchased a beautiful plat of ground in a prosperous +portion of the city, and work was rapidly progressing on the tomb, when +Mrs. Lincoln made strenuous objection to the location. She declared that +she would stop the body in Chicago before it should be laid to rest in +the lot purchased for the purpose by the City of Springfield. She gave +as a reason, that it was her desire to be laid by the side of her +husband when she died, and that such would be out of the question in a +public place of the kind. As is well known, the difficulty was finally +settled by placing the remains of the President in the family vault at +Oak Ridge, a charming spot for the home of the dead.</p> + +<p>After the President's funeral Mrs. Lincoln rallied, and began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> to make +preparations to leave the White House. One day she suddenly exclaimed: +"God, Elizabeth, what a change! Did ever woman have to suffer so much +and experience so great a change? I had an ambition to be Mrs. +President; that ambition has been gratified, and now I must step down +from the pedestal. My poor husband! had he never been President, he +might be living to-day. Alas! all is over with me!"</p> + +<p>Folding her arms for a few moments, she rocked back and forth, then +commenced again, more vehemently than ever: "My God, Elizabeth, I can +never go back to Springfield! no, never, until I go in my shroud to be +laid by my dear husband's side, and may Heaven speed that day! I should +like to live for my sons, but life is so full of misery that I would +rather die." And then she would go off into a fit of hysterics.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<h2>MRS. LINCOLN LEAVES THE WHITE HOUSE</h2> + + +<p>For five weeks Mrs. Lincoln was confined to her room. Packing afforded +quite a relief, as it so closely occupied us that we had not much time +for lamentation.</p> + +<p>Letters of condolence were received from all parts of the country, and +even from foreign potentates, but Mr. Andrew Johnson, the successor of +Mr. Lincoln, never called on the widow, or even so much as wrote a line +expressing sympathy for her grief and the loss of her husband. Robert +called on him one day to tell him that his mother would turn the White +House over to him in a few days, and he never even so much as inquired +after their welfare. Mrs. Lincoln firmly believes that Mr. Johnson was +concerned in the assassination plot.</p> + +<p>In packing, Mrs. Lincoln gave away everything intimately connected with +the President, as she said that she could not bear to be reminded of the +past. The articles were given to those who were regarded as the warmest +of Mr. Lincoln's admirers. All of the presents passed through my hands. +The dress that Mrs. Lincoln wore on the night of the assassination was +given to Mrs. Slade, the wife of an old and faithful messenger. The +cloak, stained with the President's blood, was given to me, as also was +the bonnet worn on the same memorable night. Afterwards I received the +comb and brush that Mr. Lincoln used during his residence at the White +House. With this same comb and brush I had often combed his head. When +almost ready to go down to a reception, he would turn to me with a +quizzical look: "Well, Madam Elizabeth, will you brush my bristles down +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Lincoln."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he would take his seat in an easy-chair, and sit quietly while I +arranged his hair. As may well be imagined, I was only too glad to +accept this comb and brush from the hands of Mrs. Lincoln. The cloak, +bonnet, comb, and brush, the glove worn at the first reception after the +second inaugural, and Mr. Lincoln's over-shoes, also given to me, I have +since donated for the benefit of Wilberforce University, a colored +college near Xenia, Ohio, destroyed by fire on the night that the +President was murdered.</p> + +<p>There was much surmise, when Mrs. Lincoln left the White House, what her +fifty or sixty boxes, not to count her score of trunks, could contain. +Had the government not been so liberal in furnishing the boxes, it is +possible that there would have been less demand for so much +transportation. The boxes were loosely packed, and many of them with +articles not worth carrying away. Mrs. Lincoln had a passion for +hoarding old things, believing, with Toodles, that they were "handy to +have about the house."</p> + +<p>The bonnets that she brought with her from Springfield, in addition to +every one purchased during her residence in Washington, were packed in +the boxes, and transported to Chicago. She remarked that she might find +use for the material some day, and it was prudent to look to the future. +I am sorry to say that Mrs. Lincoln's foresight in regard to the future +was only confined to cast-off clothing, as she owed, at the time of the +President's death, different store bills amounting to seventy thousand +dollars. Mr. Lincoln knew nothing of these bills, and the only happy +feature of his assassination was that he died in ignorance of them. Had +he known to what extent his wife was involved, the fact would have +embittered the only pleasant moments of his life. I disclose this secret +in regard to Mrs. Lincoln's debts, in order to explain why she should +subsequently have labored under pecuniary embarrassment. The children, +as well as herself, had received a vast number of presents during Mr. +Lincoln's administration, and these presents constituted a large item in +the contents of the boxes. The only article of furniture, so far as I +know, taken away from the White House by Mrs. Lincoln, was a little +dressing-stand used by the President. I recollect hearing him say one +day:</p> + +<p>"Mother, this little stand is so handy, and suits me so well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> that I do +not know how I shall get along without it when we move away from here." +He was standing before a mirror, brushing his hair, when he made the +remark.</p> + +<p>"Well, father," Mrs. Lincoln replied, "if you like the stand so well, we +will take it with us when we go away."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world," he exclaimed; but she interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"I should like to know what difference it makes if we put a better one +in its place."</p> + +<p>"That alters the question. If you will put a stand in its place worth +twice as much as this one, and the Commissioner consents, then I have no +objection."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln remembered these words, and, with the consent of the +Commissioner, took the stand to Chicago with her for the benefit of +little Tad. Another stand, I must not forget to add, was put in its +place.</p> + +<p>It is charged that a great deal of furniture was lost from the White +House during Mr. Lincoln's occupation of it. Very true, and it can be +accounted for in this way: In some respects, to put the case very +plainly, Mrs. Lincoln was "penny wise and pound foolish." When she moved +into the White House, she discharged the Steward, whose business it was +to look after the affairs of the household. When the Steward was +dismissed, there was no one to superintend affairs, and the servants +carried away many pieces of furniture. In this manner the furniture +rapidly disappeared.</p> + +<p>Robert was frequently in the room where the boxes were being packed, and +he tried without avail to influence his mother to set fire to her vast +stores of old goods. "What are you going to do with that old dress, +mother?" he would ask.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Robert, I will find use for it. You do not understand this +business."</p> + +<p>"And what is more, I hope I never may understand it. I wish to heaven +the car would take fire in which you place these boxes for +transportation to Chicago, and burn all of your old plunder up;" and +then, with an impatient gesture, he would turn on his heel and leave the +room.</p> + +<p>"Robert is so impetuous," his mother would say to me, after the closing +of the door. "He never thinks about the future. Well, I hope that he +will get over his boyish notions in time."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Many of the articles that Mrs. Lincoln took away from the White House +were given, after her arrival in Chicago, for the benefit of charity +fairs.</p> + +<p>At last everything was packed, and the day for departure for the West +came. I can never forget that day; it was so unlike the day when the +body of the President was borne from the hall in grand and solemn state. +Then thousands gathered to bow the head in reverence as the plumed +hearse drove down the line. There was all the pomp of military +display—drooping flags, battalions with reversed arms, and bands +playing dirge-like airs. Now, the wife of the President was leaving the +White House, and there was scarcely a friend to tell her good-by. She +passed down the public stairway, entered her carriage, and quietly drove +to the depot where we took the cars. The silence was almost painful.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that I should go to Chicago. When Mrs. Lincoln +first suggested her plan, I strongly objected; but I had been with her +so long, that she had acquired great power over me.</p> + +<p>"I cannot go West with you, Mrs. Lincoln," I said, when the idea was +first advanced.</p> + +<p>"But you must go to Chicago with me, Elizabeth; I cannot do without +you."</p> + +<p>"You forget my business, Mrs. Lincoln. I cannot leave it. Just now I +have the spring trousseau to make for Mrs. Douglas, and I have promised +to have it done in less than a week."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Mrs. Douglas can get some one else to make her trousseau. +You may find it to your interest to go. I am very poor now, but if +Congress makes an appropriation for my benefit, you shall be well +rewarded."</p> + +<p>"It is not the reward, but—" I commenced, by way of reply, but she +stopped me:</p> + +<p>"Now don't say another word about it, if you do not wish to distress me. +I have determined that you shall go to Chicago with me, and you <i>must</i> +go."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Douglas learned that Mrs. Lincoln wished me to accompany her +West, she sent me word:</p> + +<p>"Never mind me. Do all you can for Mrs. Lincoln. My heart's sympathy is +with her."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Finding that no excuse would be accepted, I made preparations to go to +Chicago with Mrs. L.</p> + +<p>The green car had specially been chartered for us, and in this we were +conveyed to the West. Dr. Henry accompanied us, and he was remarkably +attentive and kind. The first night out, Mrs. Lincoln had a severe +headache; and while I was bathing her temples, she said to me:</p> + +<p>"Lizabeth, you are my best and kindest friend, and I love you as my best +friend. I wish it were in my power to make you comfortable for the +balance of your days. If Congress provides for me, depend upon it, I +will provide for you."</p> + +<p>The trip was devoid of interest. We arrived in Chicago without accident +or delay, and apartments were secured for us at the Tremont House, where +we remained one week. At the expiration of this time Mrs. Lincoln +decided that living at the hotel was attended with too much expense, so +it was arranged that we should go to the country. Rooms were selected at +Hyde Park, a summer resort.</p> + +<p>Robert and Tad accompanied their mother to Hyde Park. We arrived about 3 +o'clock in the afternoon of Saturday. The place had just been opened the +summer before, and there was a newness about everything. The +accommodations were not first-class, the rooms being small and plainly +furnished. It was a lively day for us all. Robert occupied himself +unpacking his books, and arranging them on the shelves in the corner of +his small but neat room. I assisted him, he talking pleasantly all the +while. When we were through, he folded his arms, stood off a little +distance from the mantel, with an abstracted look as if he were thinking +of the great change in his fortunes—contrasting the present with the +past. Turning to me, he asked: "Well, Mrs. Keckley, how do you like our +new quarters?"</p> + +<p>"This is a delightful place, and I think you will pass your time +pleasantly," I answered.</p> + +<p>He looked at me with a quizzical smile, then remarked: "You call it a +delightful place! Well, perhaps it is. Since you do not have to stay +here, you can safely say as much about the charming situation as you +please. I presume that I must put up with it, as mother's pleasure must +be consulted before my own. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> candidly, I would almost as soon be +dead as be compelled to remain three months in this dreary house."</p> + +<p>He seemed to feel what he said, and going to the window, he looked out +upon the view with moody countenance. I passed into Mrs. Lincoln's room, +and found her lying upon the bed, sobbing as if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>"What a dreary place, Lizzie! And to think that I should be compelled to +live here, because I have not the means to live elsewhere. Ah! what a +sad change has come to us all." I had listened to her sobbing for eight +weeks, therefore I was never surprised to find her in tears. Tad was the +only cheerful one of the party. He was a child of sunshine, and nothing +seemed to dampen the ardor of his spirits.</p> + +<p>Sunday was a very quiet day. I looked out of my window in the morning, +upon the beautiful lake that formed one of the most delightful views +from the house. The wind was just strong enough to ripple the broad +bosom of the water, and each ripple caught a jewel from the sunshine, +and threw it sparkling up towards the sky. Here and there a sail-boat +silently glided into view, or sank below the faint blue line that marked +the horizon—glided and melted away like the spectral shadows that +sometimes haunt the white snow-fields in the cold, tranquil light of a +winter's moon. As I stood by my window that morning, looking out upon +the lake, my thoughts were etherealized—the reflected sunbeams +suggested visions of crowns studded with the jewels of eternal life, and +I wondered how any one could call Hyde Park a dreary place. I had seen +so much trouble in my life, that I was willing to fold my arms and sink +into a passive slumber—slumber anywhere, so the great longing of the +soul was gratified—rest.</p> + +<p>Robert spent the day in his room with his books, while I remained in +Mrs. Lincoln's room, talking with her, contrasting the present with the +past, and drawing plans for the future. She held no communication, by +letter or otherwise, with any of her relatives or old friends, saying +that she wished to lead a secluded life for the summer. Old faces, she +claimed, would only bring back memories of scenes that she desired to +forget; and new faces, she felt assured, could not sympathize with her +distress, or add to the comforts of her situation.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>On Monday morning, Robert was getting ready to ride into Chicago, as +business called him to the city.</p> + +<p>"Where you goin', brother Bob?"—Tad generally called Robert, brother +Bob.</p> + +<p>"Only into town!" was the brief reply.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Ask mother. I think that she will say no."</p> + +<p>Just then Mrs. Lincoln came in, and Tad ran to her, with the eager +question:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Ma! can't I go to town with brother Bob? I want to go so badly."</p> + +<p>"Go to town! No; you must stay and keep me company. Besides, I have +determined that you shall get a lesson every day, and I am going to +commence to-day with you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to get a lesson—I won't get a lesson," broke in the +impetuous boy. "I don't want to learn my book; I want to go to town!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you want to grow up to be a great dunce. Hush, Tad; you shall +not go to town until you have said a lesson;" and the mother looked +resolute.</p> + +<p>"May I go after I learn my book?" was the next question.</p> + +<p>"Yes; if Robert will wait for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bob will wait; won't you, Bob?"</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot wait; but the landlord is going in this afternoon, and you +can go with him. You must do as mother tells you, Tad. You are getting +to be a big boy now, and must start to school next fall; and you would +not like to go to school without knowing how to read."</p> + +<p>"Where's my book, Ma? Get my book quick. I will say my lesson," and he +jumped about the room, boisterously, boy-like.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Tad. Here is your book, and we will now begin the first +lesson," said his mother, as she seated herself in an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>Tad had always been much humored by his parents, especially by his +father. He suffered from a slight impediment in his speech, and had +never been made to go to school; consequently his book knowledge was +very limited. I knew that his education had been neglected, but had no +idea he was so deficient as the first lesson at Hyde Park proved him to +be.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>Drawing a low chair to his mother's side, he opened his book, and began +to slowly spell the first word, "A-P-E."</p> + +<p>"Well, what does A-p-e spell?"</p> + +<p>"Monkey," was the instant rejoinder. The word was illustrated by a small +wood-cut of an ape, which looked to Tad's eyes very much like a monkey; +and his pronunciation was guided by the picture, and not by the sounds +of the different letters.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" exclaimed his mother. "A-p-e does not spell monkey."</p> + +<p>"Does spell monkey! Isn't that a monkey?" and Tad pointed triumphantly +to the picture.</p> + +<p>"No, it is not a monkey."</p> + +<p>"Not a monkey! what is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"An ape."</p> + +<p>"An ape! 'taint an ape. Don't I know a monkey when I see it?"</p> + +<p>"No, if you say that is a monkey."</p> + +<p>"I do know a monkey. I've seen lots of them in the street with the +organs. I know a monkey better than you do, 'cause I always go out into +the street to see them when they come by, and you don't."</p> + +<p>"But, Tad, listen to me. An ape is a species of the monkey. It looks +like a monkey, but it is not a monkey."</p> + +<p>"It shouldn't look like a monkey, then. Here, Yib"—he always called me +Yib—"isn't this a monkey, and don't A-p-e spell monkey? Ma don't know +anything about it;" and he thrust his book into my face in an earnest, +excited manner.</p> + +<p>I could not longer restrain myself, and burst out laughing. Tad looked +very much offended, and I hastened to say: "I beg your pardon, Master +Tad; I hope that you will excuse my want of politeness."</p> + +<p>He bowed his head in a patronizing way, and returned to the original +question: "Isn't this a monkey? Don't A-p-e spell monkey?"</p> + +<p>"No, Tad; your mother is right. A-p-e spells ape."</p> + +<p>"You don't know as much as Ma. Both of you don't know anything;" and +Master Tad's eyes flashed with indignation.</p> + +<p>Robert entered the room, and the question was referred to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> him. After +many explanations, he succeeded in convincing Tad that A-p-e does not +spell monkey, and the balance of the lesson was got over with less +difficulty.</p> + +<p>Whenever I think of this incident I am tempted to laugh; and then it +occurs to me that had Tad been a negro boy, not the son of a President, +and so difficult to instruct, he would have been called thick-skulled, +and would have been held up as an example of the inferiority of race. I +know many full negro boys, able to read and write, who are not older +than Tad Lincoln was when he persisted that A-p-e spelt monkey. Do not +imagine that I desire to reflect upon the intellect of little Tad. Not +at all; he is a bright boy, a son that will do honor to the genius and +greatness of his father; I only mean to say that some incidents are +about as damaging to one side of the question as to the other. If a +colored boy appears dull, so does a white boy sometimes; and if a whole +race is judged by a single example of apparent dulness, another race +should be judged by a similar example.</p> + +<p>I returned to Washington, with Mrs. Lincoln's best wishes for my success +in business. The journey was devoid of incident. After resting a few +days, I called at the White House, and transacted some business for Mrs. +Lincoln. I had no desire to enter the house, for everything about it +bitterly reminded me of the past; and when I came out of the door, I +hoped that I had crossed the threshold for the last time. I was asked by +some of my friends if I had sent my business cards to Mr. Johnson's +family, and my answer was that I had not, as I had no desire to work for +the President's family. Mr. Johnson was no friend to Mr. Lincoln, and he +had failed to treat Mrs. Lincoln, in the hour of her greatest sorrow, +with even common courtesy.</p> + +<p>Having promised to make a spring trousseau for Mrs. Senator Douglas as +soon as I should return from Chicago, I called on her to meet the +engagement. She appeared pleased to see me, and in greeting me, asked, +with evident surprise:</p> + +<p>"Why, Keckley"—she always called me Keckley—"is this you? I did not +know you were coming back. It was reported that you designed remaining +with Mrs. Lincoln all summer."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lincoln would have been glad to have kept me with her had she been +able."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Able! What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Simply this: Already she is laboring under pecuniary embarrassment, and +was only able to pay my expenses, and allow me nothing for my time."</p> + +<p>"You surprise me. I thought she was left in good circumstances."</p> + +<p>"So many think, it appears. Mrs. Lincoln, I assure you, is now +practising the closest economy. I must do something for myself, Mrs. +Douglas, so I have come back to Washington to open my shop."</p> + +<p>The next day I collected my assistants, and my business went on as +usual. Orders came in more rapidly than I could fill them. One day, in +the middle of the month of June, the girl who was attending the door +came into the cutting-room, where I was hard at work:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keckley, there is a lady below, who wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I did not learn her name."</p> + +<p>"Is her face familiar? Does she look like a regular customer?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is a stranger. I don't think she was ever here before. She came +in an open carriage, with a black woman for an attendant."</p> + +<p>"It may be the wife of one of Johnson's new secretaries. Do go down, +Mrs. Keckley," exclaimed my work-girls in a chorus. I went below, and on +entering the parlor, a plainly dressed lady rose to her feet, and asked:</p> + +<p>"Is this the dressmaker?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am a dressmaker."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Keckley?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lincoln's former dressmaker, were you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I worked for Mrs. Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"Are you very busy now?"</p> + +<p>"Very, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Can you do anything for me?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon what is to be done, and when it is to be done."</p> + +<p>"Well, say one dress now, and several others a few weeks later."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can make one dress for you now, but no more. I cannot finish the one +for you in less than three weeks."</p> + +<p>"That will answer. I am Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President +Johnson. I expect my sister, Mrs. Stover, here in three weeks, and the +dress is for her. We are both the same size, and you can fit the dress +to me."</p> + +<p>The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and after measuring Mrs. +Patterson, she bade me good morning, entered her carriage, and drove +away.</p> + +<p>When I went up-stairs into the work-room, the girls were anxious to +learn who my visitor was.</p> + +<p>"It was Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson," I answered, +in response to several questions.</p> + +<p>"What! the daughter of our good Moses. Are you going to work for her?"</p> + +<p>"I have taken her order."</p> + +<p>"I fear that Johnson will prove a poor Moses, and I would not work for +any of the family," remarked one of the girls. None of them appeared to +like Mr. Lincoln's successor.</p> + +<p>I finished the dress for Mrs. Patterson, and it gave satisfaction. I +afterwards learned that both Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover were +kindhearted, plain, unassuming women, making no pretensions to elegance. +One day when I called at the White House, in relation to some work that +I was doing for them, I found Mrs. Patterson busily at work with a +sewing-machine. The sight was a novel one to me for the White House, for +as long as I remained with Mrs. Lincoln, I do not recollect ever having +seen her with a needle in her hand. The last work done for the Johnsons +by me were two dresses, one for each of the sisters. Mrs. Patterson +subsequently wrote me a note, requesting me to cut and fit a dress for +her; to which I replied that I never cut and fitted work to be made up +outside of my work-room. This brought our business relations to an +abrupt end.</p> + +<p>The months passed, and my business prospered. I continually received +letters from Mrs. Lincoln, and as the anniversary of her husband's death +approached, she wrote in a sadder strain. Before I left Chicago she had +exacted the promise that should Congress make an appropriation for her +benefit, I must join her in the West, and go with her to visit the tomb +of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> President for the first time. The appropriation was made one of +the conditions of my visit, for without relief from Congress she would +be unable to bear my expenses. The appropriation was not made; and so I +was unable to join Mrs. Lincoln at the appointed time. She wrote me that +her plan was to leave Chicago in the morning with Tad, reach Springfield +at night, stop at one of the hotels, drive out to Oak Ridge the next +day, and take the train for Chicago the same evening, thus avoiding a +meeting with any of her old friends. This plan, as she afterwards wrote +me, was carried out. When the second anniversary approached, President +Johnson and party were "swinging round the circle," and as they were to +visit Chicago, she was especially anxious to be away from the city when +they should arrive; accordingly she hurried off to Springfield, and +spent the time in weeping over the tomb where repose the hallowed ashes +of her husband.</p> + +<p>During all this time I was asked many questions about Mrs. Lincoln, some +prompted by friendship, but a greater number by curiosity; but my brief +answers, I fear, were not always accepted as the most satisfactory.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<h2>THE ORIGIN OF THE RIVALRY BETWEEN MR. DOUGLAS AND MR. LINCOLN</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln from her girlhood up had an ambition to become the wife of +a President. When a little girl, as I was told by one of her sisters, +she was disposed to be a little noisy at times, and was self-willed. One +day she was romping about the room, making more noise than the nerves of +her grandmother could stand. The old lady looked over her spectacles, +and said, in a commanding tone:</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mary. Do be quiet. What on earth do you suppose will become +of you if you go on this way?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will be the wife of a President some day," carelessly answered +the petted child.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lincoln, as Miss Mary Todd, was quite a belle in Springfield, +Illinois, and from all accounts she was fond of flirting. She generally +managed to keep a half-dozen gentlemen biting at the hook that she +baited so temptingly for them. The world, if I mistake not, are not +aware that the rivalry between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Stephen A. Douglas +commenced over the hand of Miss Mary Todd. The young lady was ambitious, +and she smiled more sweetly upon Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincoln than any of +her other admirers, as they were regarded as rising men. She played her +part so well that neither of the rivals for a long time could tell who +would win the day. Mr. Douglas first proposed for her hand, and she +discarded him. The young man urged his suit boldly:</p> + +<p>"Mary, you do not know what you are refusing. You have always had an +ambition to become the wife of a President of the United States. Pardon +the egotism, but I fear that in refusing my hand to-night you have +thrown away your best chance to ever rule in the White House."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, Mr. Douglas."</p> + +<p>"Then I will speak more plainly. You know, Mary, that I am ambitious +like yourself, and something seems to whisper in my ear, 'You will be +President some day.' Depend upon it, I shall make a stubborn fight to +win the proud position."</p> + +<p>"You have my best wishes, Mr. Douglas; still I cannot consent to be your +wife. I shall become Mrs. President, or I am the victim of false +prophets, but it will not be as Mrs. Douglas."</p> + +<p>I have this little chapter in a romantic history from the lips of Mrs. +Lincoln herself.</p> + +<p>At one of the receptions at the White House, shortly after the first +inauguration, Mrs. Lincoln joined in the promenade with Senator Douglas. +He was holding a bouquet that had been presented to her, and as they +moved along he said:</p> + +<p>"Mary, it reminds me of old times to have you lean upon my arm."</p> + +<p>"You refer to the days of our youth. I must do you the credit, Mr. +Douglas, to say, that you were a gallant beau."</p> + +<p>"Not only a beau, but a lover. Do you remember the night our flirtation +was brought to an end?"</p> + +<p>"Distinctly. You now see that I was right. I am Mrs. President, but not +Mrs. Douglas."</p> + +<p>"True, you have reached the goal before me, but I do not despair. Mrs. +Douglas—a nobler woman does not live—if I am spared, may possibly +succeed you as Mrs. President."</p> + +<p>A few evenings after Mr. Douglas had been discarded, Mr. Lincoln made a +formal proposal for the hand of Miss Todd, but it appears that the young +lady was not willing to capitulate at once. She believed that she could +send her lover adrift to-day and win him back to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"You are bold, Mr. Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"Love makes me bold."</p> + +<p>"You honor me, pardon me, but I cannot consent to be your wife."</p> + +<p>"Is this your final answer, Miss Todd?" and the suitor rose nervously to +his feet.</p> + +<p>"I do not often jest, Mr. Lincoln. Why should I reconsider to-morrow my +decision of to-day."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Excuse me. Your answer is sufficient. I was led to hope that I might +become dearer to you than a friend, but the hope, it seems, has proved +an idle one. I have the honor to say good night, Miss Todd," and pale, +yet calm, Mr. Lincoln bowed himself out of the room.</p> + +<p>He rushed to his office in a frantic state of mind. Dr. Henry, his most +intimate friend, happened to come in, and was surprised to see the young +lawyer walking the floor in an agitated manner.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Lincoln? You look desperate."</p> + +<p>"Matter! I am sick of the world. It is a heartless, deceitful world, and +I care not how soon I am out of it."</p> + +<p>"You rave. What has happened? Have you been quarrelling with your +sweetheart?"</p> + +<p>"Quarrel! I wish to God it was a quarrel, for then I could look forward +to reconciliation; the girl has refused to become my wife, after leading +me to believe that she loved me. She is a heartless coquette."</p> + +<p>"Don't give up the conquest so easily. Cheer up, man, you may succeed +yet. Perhaps she is only testing your love."</p> + +<p>"No! I believe that she is going to marry Douglas. If she does I will +blow my brains out."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! That would not mend matters. Your brains were given to you +for different use. Come, we will go to your room now. Go to bed and +sleep on the question, and you will get up feeling stronger to-morrow;" +and Dr. Henry took the arm of his friend Lincoln, led him home, and saw +him safely in bed.</p> + +<p>The next morning the doctor called at Mr. Lincoln's room, and found that +his friend had passed a restless night. Excitement had brought on fever, +which threatened to assume a violent form, as the cause of the +excitement still remained. Several days passed, and Mr. Lincoln was +confined to his bed. Dr. Henry at once determined to call on Miss Todd, +and find out how desperate the case was. Miss Todd was glad to see him, +and she was deeply distressed to learn that Mr. Lincoln was ill. She +wished to go to him at once, but the Doctor reminded her that she was +the cause of his illness. She frankly acknowledged her folly, saying +that she only desired to test the sincerity of Mr. Lincoln's love, that +he was the idol of her heart, and that she would become his wife.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Doctor returned with joyful news to his patient. The intelligence +proved the best remedy for the disease. Mutual explanations followed, +and in a few months Mr. Lincoln led Miss Todd to the altar in triumph.</p> + +<p>I learned these facts from Dr. Henry and Mrs. Lincoln. I believe them to +be facts, and as such have recorded them. They do not agree with Mr. +Herndon's story, that Mr. Lincoln never loved but one woman, and that +woman was Ann Rutledge; but then Mr. Herndon's story must be looked upon +as a pleasant piece of fiction. When it appeared, Mrs. Lincoln felt +shocked that one who pretended to be the friend of her dead husband +should deliberately seek to blacken his memory. Mr. Lincoln was far too +honest a man to marry a woman that he did not love. He was a kind and an +indulgent husband, and when he saw faults in his wife he excused them as +he would excuse the impulsive acts of a child. In fact, Mrs. Lincoln was +never more pleased than when the President called her his child-wife.</p> + +<p>Before closing this rambling chapter I desire to refer to another +incident.</p> + +<p>After the death of my son, Miss Mary Welsh, a dear friend, one of my old +St. Louis patrons, called to see me, and on broaching the cause of my +grief, she condoled with me. She knew that I had looked forward to the +day when my son would be a support to me—knew that he was to become the +prop and main-stay of my old age, and knowing this, she advised me to +apply for a pension. I disliked the idea very much, and told her +so—told her that I did not want to make money out of his death. She +explained away all of my objections—argued that Congress had made an +appropriation for the specific purpose of giving a pension to every +widow who should lose an only son in the war, and insisted that I should +have my rights. She was so enthusiastic in the matter that she went to +see Hon. Owen Lovejoy, then a member of the House from Illinois, and +laid my case before him. Mr. Lovejoy was very kind, and said as I was +entitled to the pension, I should have it, even if he had to bring the +subject before Congress. I did not desire public agitation, and Mr. +Lovejoy prepared my claim and laid it before the Commissioners. In the +meantime he left Washington, and Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> Joseph Lovejoy, his brother, +prosecuted the claim for me, and finally succeeded in securing me a +pension of eight dollars per month. Mr. Joseph Lovejoy was inclined to +the Democratic party, and he pressed my claim with great earnestness; he +hoped that the claim would not be allowed, as he said the rejection of +it would make capital for his party. Nevertheless the pension was +granted, and I am none the less thankful to Mr. Joseph Lovejoy for his +kindness to me, and interest in my welfare.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<h2>OLD FRIENDS</h2> + + +<p>In order to introduce a pleasant chapter of my life, I must take a +slight retrospective glance. Mrs. Ann[e] Garland, the mistress from whom +I purchased my freedom in St. Louis, had five daughters, all lovely, +attractive girls. I used to take pride in dressing the two eldest, Miss +Mary and Miss Carrie, for parties. Though the family labored under +pecuniary embarrassment, I worked for these two young girls, and they +were always able to present a good appearance in society. They were much +admired, and both made the best matches of the season. Miss Mary married +Dr. Pappan, and Miss Carrie, Dr. John Farrow. I loved them both +tenderly, and they were warmly attached to me. Both are now dead, and +when the death-film was gathering in the eyes, each called for me and +asked to die in my arms. Miss Carrie did not long survive her sister, +and I wept many tears over the death-beds of the two lovely flowers that +had blossomed so sweetly beneath my eyes. Each breathed her last in the +arms that had sheltered them so often in the bright rosy period of life. +My mother took care of my son, and Miss Nannie Garland, the fourth +daughter, when a wee thing, became my especial charge. She slept in my +bed, and I watched over her as if she had been my own child. She called +me Yiddie, and I could not have loved her more tenderly had she been the +sister of my unfortunate boy. She was about twelve years old when I +purchased my freedom, and resigned my charge to other hands. After Mr. +Garland's death, the widow moved to Vicksburg, Mississippi, and I lost +sight of the family for a few years. My mother accompanied them to +Vicksburg, where she died. I made two visits to Vicksburg as a free +woman, the object of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> second visit being to look after the few +effects left by my mother. As I did not visit my mother's grave at the +time, the Garlands were much surprised, but I offered no explanation. +The reason is not difficult to understand. My mother was buried in a +public ground, and the marks of her grave, as I learned, were so obscure +that the spot could not be readily designated. To look upon a grave, and +not feel certain whose ashes repose beneath the sod, is painful, and the +doubt which mystifies you, weakens the force, if not the purity, of the +love-offering from the heart. Memory preserved a sunny picture of my +mother's face, and I did not wish to weave sombre threads—threads +suggestive of a deserted grave-yard—into it, and thus impair its +beauty. After spending a few weeks with the family, I returned to St. +Louis, and then came North. The war broke out, and I lost all trace of +the Garlands. Often, during my residence in Washington, I recalled the +past, and wondered what had become of those who claimed my first duty +and my first love. When I would mention their names and express interest +in their welfare, my Northern friends would roll up their eyes in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, Lizzie, how can you have a kind thought for those who inflicted a +terrible wrong upon you by keeping you in bondage?" they would ask.</p> + +<p>"You forget the past is dear to every one, for to the past belongs that +golden period, the days of childhood. The past is a mirror that reflects +the chief incidents of my life. To surrender it is to surrender the +greatest part of my existence—early impressions, friends, and the +graves of my father, my mother, and my son. These people are associated +with everything that memory holds dear, and so long as memory proves +faithful, it is but natural that I should sigh to see them once more."</p> + +<p>"But they have forgotten you. They are too selfish to give a single +thought to you, now that you no longer are their slave."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so, but I cannot believe it. You do not know the Southern +people as well as I do—how warm is the attachment between master and +slave."</p> + +<p>My Northern friends could not understand the feeling, therefore +explanation was next to useless. They would listen with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> impatience, and +remark at the close, with a shrug of the shoulders, "You have some +strange notions, Lizzie."</p> + +<p>In the fall of 1865 a lady called on me at my apartments in Washington. +Her face looked familiar, but I could not place her. When I entered the +room, she came towards me eagerly:</p> + +<p>"You are surprised to see me, I know. I am just from Lynchburg, and when +I left cousin Ann[e] I promised to call and see you if I came to +Washington. I am here, you see, according to promise."</p> + +<p>I was more bewildered than ever.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Ann[e]! Pardon me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see you do not recognize me. I am Mrs. General Longstreet, but +you knew me when a girl as Bettie Garland."</p> + +<p>"Bettie Garland! And is this indeed you? I am so glad to see you. Where +does Miss Ann[e] live now?" I always called my last mistress, Miss +Ann[e].</p> + +<p>"Ah! I thought you could not forget old friends. Cousin Ann[e] is living +in Lynchburg. All the family are in Virginia. They moved to the old +State during the war. Fannie is dead. Nannie has grown into a woman and +is married to General Meem. Hugh was killed in the war, and now only +Spot, Maggie, and Nannie are left."</p> + +<p>"Fannie, dead! and poor Hugh! You bring sad news as well as pleasant. +And so my little pet is married? I can hardly believe it; she was only a +child when I saw her last."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Nannie is married to a noble man. General Meem belongs to one of +the best families in Virginia. They are now living at Rude's Hill, up +beyond Winchester, in the Shenandoah Valley. All of them want to see you +very badly."</p> + +<p>"I should be delighted to go to them. Miss Bettie, I can hardly realize +that you are the wife of General Longstreet; and just think, you are now +sitting in the very chair and the very room where Mrs. Lincoln has often +sat!"</p> + +<p>She laughed: "The change is a great one, Lizzie; we little dream to-day +what to-morrow will bring forth. Well, we must take a philosophical view +of life. After fighting so long against the Yankees, General Longstreet +is now in Washington, sueing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> for pardon, and we propose to live in +peace with the United States again."</p> + +<p>I had many questions to ask her about old friends, and the time passed +rapidly. She greeted me with the frankness that she had always extended +to me, and I was transported to days of the long-ago. Her stay in +Washington was brief, as the General arranged his business, and they +left the capital the next day.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Longstreet gave me the Garlands' address, and I wrote to them, +expressing the hope that I would be able to see them before long. In +reply came letters full of tender sympathy and affection. In the winter +of 1865, Miss Nannie wrote to me that she had the best husband in the +world; that they designed going to housekeeping in the spring, and that +they would be glad to have me make them a visit in July, 1866. She sent +me a pressing invitation. "You must come to me, dear Lizzie," she wrote. +"We are now living at Rude's Hill. I am dying to see you. Ma, Maggie, +Spot, and Minnie, sister Mary's child, are with me, and you only are +needed to make the circle complete. Come; I will not take no for an +answer."</p> + +<p>I was anxious to go myself, and when I received the urgent invitation I +concluded to go at once, and I wrote them to expect me in August. On the +10th of August I left Washington for Virginia, taking the train for +Harper's Ferry. The journey was attended with several disappointments. +We arrived at Harper's Ferry in the night, and being asleep at the time, +I was carried to the station beyond, where I had to wait and take the +return train. After returning to Harper's Ferry, where I changed cars +for Winchester, I missed the train, and was detained another day. From +Winchester the only way to reach Rude's Hill was by a line of stages. We +commenced the weary drive in the evening, and rode all night. A young +gentleman in the stage said that he knew General Meem well, and that he +would tell me when we reached the place. Relying upon him, I went to +sleep, and it appears that the polite young gentleman followed my +example. About four o'clock in the morning one of the passengers shook +me, and asked:</p> + +<p>"Aunty, don't you want to get out at Rude's Hill?"</p> + +<p>I started up, rubbing my eyes. "Yes. Are we there?"</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"More than there. We have passed it."</p> + +<p>"Passed it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is six miles back. You should not sleep so soundly, Aunty."</p> + +<p>"Why <i>did</i> you not tell me sooner? I am <i>so</i> anxious to be there."</p> + +<p>"Fact is, I forgot it. Never mind. Get out at this village, and you can +find conveyance back."</p> + +<p>The village, New Market, was in a dilapidated condition; everything +about it spoke plainly of the sad destruction of war. Getting out of the +stage I went into a house, by courtesy named a hotel, where I obtained a +cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>"Is there no conveyance from here to Rude's Hill?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the stage returns this evening," answered the landlord.</p> + +<p>"This evening! I want to go as soon as possible. I should die if I had +to stay all day in this lonely place."</p> + +<p>A colored man behind the bar, seeing how earnest I was, came forward, +and informed me that he would drive me over to General Meem's place in +an hour. This was joyful news, and I urged him to get ready to start as +soon as possible.</p> + +<p>While standing in the door of the hotel, impatiently waiting for my +colored friend to drive round with his little wagon, a fat old lady +waddled across the street and greeted me.</p> + +<p>"Ain't you Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, surprised that she should know my name.</p> + +<p>"I thought so. They have been expecting you at Rude's Hill every day for +two weeks, and they do but little but talk about you. Mrs. Meem was in +town yesterday, and she said that she expected you this week certain. +They will be mighty glad to see you. Why, will you believe it! they +actually have kept a light burning in the front window every night for +ten nights, in order that you might not go by the place should you +arrive in the night."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. It is pleasant to know that I am expected. I fell asleep in +the stage, and failed to see the light, so am here instead of at Rude's +Hill."</p> + +<p>Just then the colored man drove up with the wagon, and I got in with +him, and was soon on the road to General Meem's country-seat.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>As we drove up to Rude's Hill, I observed a young man standing in the +yard, and believing it to be Spot, whom I had not seen for eight years, +I beckoned to him. With an exclamation of joy, he came running towards +me. His movements attracted the attention of the family, and in a minute +the door was crowded with anxious, inquiring faces. "It is Lizzie! It is +Lizzie!" was the happy cry from all parties. In my eagerness to get to +them, I stepped from the wagon to the top of the stile, intending to +make a triumphant leap into the yard; but, alas! my exultation was +brief. My hoop-skirt caught on one of the posts, and I fell sprawling +into the yard. Spot reached me first and picked me up, only to put me +into the arms of Miss Nannie, her sister Maggie, and Mrs. Garland. Could +my friends of the North have seen that meeting, they would never have +doubted again that the mistress had any affection for her former slave. +I was carried to the house in triumph. In the parlor I was divested of +my things, and placed in an easy-chair before a bright fire. The +servants looked on in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, you are not changed a bit. You look as young as when you left +us in St. Louis, years ago," and Mrs. Meem, my foster child, kissed me +again.</p> + +<p>"Here, Lizzie, this is Minnie, Minnie Pappan, sister Mary's child. +Hasn't she grown?" and Miss Maggie led a tall, queenly lady up to me.</p> + +<p>"Minnie! Poor dear Miss Mary's child! I can hardly believe it. She was +only a baby when I saw her last. It makes me feel old to see how large +she has grown. Miss Minnie, you are larger than—your mother was—your +dear mother whom I held in my arms when she died;" and I brushed a tear +from each of my eyes.</p> + +<p>"Have you had your breakfast, Lizzie?" asked Mrs. Garland.</p> + +<p>"No, she has not," exclaimed her children in a chorus. "I will get her +breakfast for her," and Nannie, Maggie, and Minnie started for the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary that all should go," said Mrs. Garland. "Here is +the cook, she will get breakfast ready."</p> + +<p>But the three did not heed her. All rushed to the kitchen, and soon +brought me a nice hot breakfast.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>While I was eating, the cook remarked: "I declar, I nebber did see +people carry on so. Wonder if I should go off and stay two or three +years, if all ob you wud hug and kiss me so when I cum back?"</p> + +<p>After I had finished my breakfast, General Meem came in. He greeted me +warmly. "Lizzie, I am very glad to see you. I feel that you are an old +acquaintance, I have heard so much of you through my wife, her sister, +and her mother. Welcome to Rude's Hill."</p> + +<p>I was much pleased with his appearance, and closer acquaintance proved +him to be a model gentleman.</p> + +<p>Rude's Hill, during the war, was once occupied by General Stonewall +Jackson for his head-quarters, which gave more than ordinary interest to +the place. The location was delightful, but the marks of war could be +seen everywhere on the plantation. General Meem was engaged in planting, +and he employed a large number of servants to assist him in his work. +About a mile from Rude's Hill was Mount Airy, the elegant country-seat +of the General's brother. The two families visited each other a great +deal, and as both entertained plenty of company, the Autumn months +passed pleasantly. I was comfortably quartered at Rude's Hill, and was +shown every attention. We sewed together, talking of old times, and +every day either drove out, or rode on horseback. The room in which I +sat in the daytime was the room that General Jackson always slept in, +and people came from far and near to look at it. General Jackson was the +ideal soldier of the Southern people, and they worshipped him as an +idol. Every visitor would tear a splinter from the walls or windows of +the room, to take away and treasure as a priceless relic.</p> + +<p>It did not take me long to discover that I was an object of great +curiosity in the neighborhood. My association with Mrs. Lincoln, and my +attachment for the Garlands, whose slave I had once been, clothed me +with romantic interest.</p> + +<p>Colonel Harry Gilmore, well known as a partisan leader in Maryland and +Virginia during the war, was a frequent visitor at Mount Airy and Rude's +Hill. One day I accompanied a party to a tournament, and General Meem +laughed pleasantly over the change that had come to me in so short a +time.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, Lizzie, you are riding with Colonel Gilmore. Just think of the +change from Lincoln to Gilmore! It sounds like a dream. But then the +change is an evidence of the peaceful feeling of this country; a change, +I trust, that augurs brighter days for us all."</p> + +<p>I had many long talks with Mrs. Garland, in one of which I asked what +had become of the only sister of my mother, formerly maid to Mrs. G's +mother.</p> + +<p>"She is dead, Lizzie. Has been dead for some years. A maid in the old +time meant something different from what we understand by a maid at the +present time. Your aunt used to scrub the floor and milk a cow now and +then, as well as attend to the orders of my mother. My mother was severe +with her slaves in some respects, but then her heart was full of +kindness. She had your aunt punished one day, and not liking her +sorrowful look, she made two extravagant promises in order to effect a +reconciliation, both of which were accepted. On condition that her maid +would look cheerful, and be good and friendly with her, the mistress +told her she might go to church the following Sunday, and that she would +give her a silk dress to wear on the occasion. Now my mother had but one +silk dress in the world, silk not being so plenty in those days as it is +now, and yet she gave this dress to her maid to make friends with her. +Two weeks afterward mother was sent for to spend the day at a neighbor's +house, and on inspecting her wardrobe, discovered that she had no dress +fit to wear in company. She had but one alternative, and that was to +appeal to the generosity of your aunt Charlotte. Charlotte was summoned, +and enlightened in regard to the situation; the maid proffered to loan +the silk dress to her mistress for the occasion, and the mistress was +only too glad to accept. She made her appearance at the social +gathering, duly arrayed in the silk that her maid had worn to church on +the preceding Sunday."</p> + +<p>We laughed over the incident, when Mrs. Garland said: "Lizzie, during +the entire war I used to think of you every day, and have longed to see +you so much. When we heard you were with Mrs. Lincoln, the people used +to tell me that I was foolish to think of ever seeing you again—that +your head must be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> completely turned. But I knew your heart, and could +not believe that you would forget us. I always argued that you would +come and see us some day."</p> + +<p>"You judged me rightly, Miss Ann[e]. How could I forget you whom I had +grown up with from infancy. Northern people used to tell me that you +would forget me, but I told them I knew better, and hoped on."</p> + +<p>"Ah! love is too strong to be blown away like gossamer threads. The +chain is strong enough to bind life even to the world beyond the grave. +Do you always feel kindly towards me, Lizzie?"</p> + +<p>"To tell you candidly, Miss Ann[e], I have but one unkind thought, and +that is, that you did not give me the advantages of a good education. +What I have learned has been the study of after years."</p> + +<p>"You are right. I did not look at things then as I do now. I have always +regretted that you were not educated when a girl. But you have not +suffered much on this score, since you get along in the world better +than we who enjoyed every educational advantage in childhood."</p> + +<p>I remained five weeks at Rude's Hill, and they were five of the most +delightful weeks of my life. I designed going direct to Richmond, but +the cholera was reported to be raging in that city, so I took the train +for Baltimore. In Baltimore I stopped with Mrs. Annette Jordan. Mrs. +Garland had given me a letter to Mrs. Douglas Gordon, who introduced me +to several Baltimore ladies, among others Mrs. Doctor Thomas, who said +to me, with tears in her eyes: "Lizzie, you deserve to meet with success +for having been so kind to our friends in the days of the past. I wish +there were more women in the world like you. I will always do what +little I can to promote your welfare."</p> + +<p>After remaining in Baltimore a few days, I came to the conclusion that I +could do better in Washington; so I returned to the capital, and +reopened my business.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1867, Miss Maggie Garland paid a visit to Baltimore. +Before leaving Virginia she said to some of her friends in Lynchburg +that she designed going by Washington to see Lizzie. Her friends +ridiculed the idea, but she persisted:</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I love Lizzie next to mother. She has been a mother to us all. Half the +pleasure of my visit is that I will be able to see her."</p> + +<p>She wrote me a letter, saying that she designed visiting me, asking if +it would be agreeable. I replied, "Yes, come by all means. I shall be so +glad to see you."</p> + +<p>She came and stayed at my rooms, and expressed surprise to find me so +comfortably fixed.</p> + +<p>I can not do better than conclude this chapter with two letters from my +dear young friends, the first from Mrs. General Meem, and the second +from Miss Maggie Garland. These letters show the goodness of their +hearts and the frankness of their natures. I trust that they will not +object to the publicity that I give them:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright"> +"RUDE'S HILL, Sept. 14, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I am nearly ashamed of myself for +neglecting to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and the +very acceptable box of patterns, some weeks ago; but you will +pardon my remissness, I know, for you can imagine what a busy +time I've had all summer, with a house full of company most +of the time, and with very inefficient servants, and in some +departments <i>none at all</i>; so I have had to be at times +dining-room servant, house-maid, and the last and most +difficult, dairy-maid. But I have turned that department over +to our gardener, who, though as green at the business as +myself, seems willing to learn, and has been doing the +milking all summer. These are a <i>few</i> of the reasons why I +have not written to you before, for I hope you will always +believe that you occupy a large place in my memory and +affection, whether I write to you or not; and such a poor +correspondent as yourself ought not to complain. Mother, Mag, +Uncle John, and Spot are still with us; the former will pass +the winter with me, but the others all talk of leaving before +long. The approach of winter always scatters our guests, and +we have to spend the long, dreary winters alone. But we are +to have the railroad to Mt. Jackson by Christmas, perhaps +sooner; and then, if we can raise the wind, we can spend a +portion of the winter in the city, and I hope you will find +time to come up and <i>spend the day</i> with me, as we will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> be +near neighbors. I so seldom indulge in the pleasant task of +writing letters that I scarcely know what will interest my +correspondent, but I flatter myself that <i>you</i> will be glad +to hear anything and everything about us all, so I'll begin +with the children. Hugh has improved a great deal, and is +acknowledged to be the smartest child and the finest looking +in the State; he talks as plainly as I do, and just as +understandingly as a child of ten years old; his nurse often +says we need not set our hearts on that child, he is too +smart ever to be raised; but I trust his <i>badness</i> will save +him, for he is terribly spoilt, as such interesting children +are bound to be. Miss Eliza, no longer called <i>Jane</i>, is +getting to be a little 'star girl,' as her Papa calls her; +she is just learning to walk, and says a good many words +quite plainly. You would never take her for the same little +<i>cry-baby</i> of last summer, and she is a little beauty too—as +white as the driven snow, with the most beautiful blue eyes, +and long, dark lashes you ever saw. She will set <i>somebody</i> +crazy if she grows up to be as lovely as she now promises to +be. My dear good husband has been, like myself, run to death +this summer; but it agrees with him, and I never saw him +looking better. He has fallen off a little, which is a great +improvement, I think. He often speaks of you, and wonders if +you were sufficiently pleased with your visit last summer to +repeat it. I hope so, for we will always be glad to welcome +you to Rude's Hill, whenever you have time to come; provided, +of course, you have the wish also. Spot expects to hang out +his shingle in St. Louis next winter. His health is greatly +improved, though he is still very thin, and very, very much +like dear father. Mag has promised to teach a little cousin +of ours, who lives in Nelson County, until February, and will +leave here in two weeks to commence her labors. I hate to see +her leave, but she is bent on it, and our winters are so +unattractive that I do not like to insist on her shutting +herself up all winter with three old people. She will have +very pleasant society at Cousin Buller's, and will perhaps +spend the rest of the winter with Aunt Pris, if Uncle +Armistead remains in Binghampton, New York, as he talks of +doing. Do write to me before you get too busy with your fall +and winter work; I am so anxious to hear all your plans, and +about your stay in New York. By the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> by, I will have to +direct this to Washington, as I do not know your New York +address. I suppose your friends will forward it. If you are +going to remain any length of time in New York, send me your +address, and I will write again. * * I have somehow made out +a long letter, though there is not much in it, and I hope you +will do the same before long. <i>All</i> send love.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"Yours affectionately,<br /> +"N. R. G. MEEM.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"My pen and ink are both so wretched that I fear you will +find some difficulty in making out this scratch; but <i>put on +your specks</i>, and what you can't read, just guess at. I +enclose a very poor likeness of Hugh taken last spring; don't +show it to anybody, for I assure you there is scarcely the +faintest resemblance to him now in it.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"N. R. G. M."<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>I give only a few extracts from the pleasant letter from Miss Maggie +Garland. The reader will observe that she signs herself "Your child, +Mag," an expression of love warmly appreciated by me:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright"> +"SEDDES, Dec. 17, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"So many months have passed, my dear Lizzie, since I was +cheered by a sight of your welcome handwriting, that I must +find out what is the matter, and see if I can't persuade you +to write me a few lines. Whatever comes, 'weal or woe,' you +know I shall always love you, and I have no idea of letting +you forget me; so just make up your mind to write me a nice +long letter, and tell me what you are doing with yourself +this cold weather. I am buried in the wilds of Amherst, and +the cold, chilling blasts of December come whistling around, +and tell us plainly that the reign of the snow-king has begun +in good earnest. Since October I have been teaching for my +cousin, Mr. Claiborne, and although I am very happy, and +every one is so kind to me, I shall not be sorry when the day +comes when I shall shut up school-books forever. None of +'Miss Ann[e]'s' children were cut out for 'school-marms,' +were they, Yiddie? I am sure I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> only made to ride in my +carriage, and play on the piano. Don't you think so? * * * +You must write me where you are, so I can stop and see you on +my way North; for you know, dear Lizzie, no one can take your +place in my heart. I expect to spend the Christmas holidays +in Lynchburg. It will be very gay there, and I will be glad +enough to take a good dance. This is a short letter to send +you after such a long silence, but 'tis too cold to write. +Let me hear from you very soon.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"Your child MAG.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Please write, for I long to hear from you."</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<h2>THE SECRET HISTORY OF MRS. LINCOLN'S WARDROBE IN NEW YORK</h2> + + +<p>In March, 1867, Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me from Chicago that, as her +income was insufficient to meet her expenses, she would be obliged to +give up her house in the city, and return to boarding. She said that she +had struggled long enough to keep up appearances, and that the mask must +be thrown aside. "I have not the means," she wrote, "to meet the +expenses of even a first-class boarding-house, and must sell out and +secure cheap rooms at some place in the country. It will not be +startling news to you, my dear Lizzie, to learn that I must sell a +portion of my wardrobe to add to my resources, so as to enable me to +live decently, for you remember what I told you in Washington, as well +as what you understood before you left me here in Chicago. I cannot live +on $1,700 a year, and as I have many costly things which I shall never +wear, I might as well turn them into money, and thus add to my income, +and make my circumstances easier. It is humiliating to be placed in such +a position, but, as I am in the position, I must extricate myself as +best I can. Now, Lizzie, I want to ask a favor of you. It is imperative +that I should do something for my relief, and I want you to meet me in +New York, between the 30th of August and the 5th of September next, to +assist me in disposing of a portion of my wardrobe."</p> + +<p>I knew that Mrs. Lincoln's income was small, and also knew that she had +many valuable dresses, which could be of no value to her, packed away in +boxes and trunks. I was confident that she would never wear the dresses +again, and thought that, since her need was urgent, it would be well +enough to dispose of them quietly, and believed that New York was the +best place to transact a delicate business of the kind. She was the wife +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> Abraham Lincoln, the man who had done so much for my race, and I +could refuse to do nothing for her, calculated to advance her interests. +I consented to render Mrs. Lincoln all the assistance in my power, and +many letters passed between us in regard to the best way to proceed. It +was finally arranged that I should meet her in New York about the middle +of September. While thinking over this question, I remembered an +incident of the White House. When we were packing up to leave Washington +for Chicago, she said to me, one morning:</p> + +<p>"Lizzie, I may see the day when I shall be obliged to sell a portion of +my wardrobe. If Congress does not do something for me, then my dresses +some day may have to go to bring food into my mouth, and the mouths of +my children."</p> + +<p>I also remembered of Mrs. L. having said to me at different times, in +the years of 1863 and '4, that her expensive dresses might prove of +great assistance to her some day.</p> + +<p>"In what way, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not understand," I ejaculated, the +first time she made the remark to me.</p> + +<p>"Very simple to understand. Mr. Lincoln is so generous that he will not +save anything from his salary, and I expect that we will leave the White +House poorer than when we came into it; and should such be the case, I +will have no further need for an expensive wardrobe, and it will be +policy to sell it off."</p> + +<p>I thought at the time that Mrs. Lincoln was borrowing trouble from the +future, and little dreamed that the event which she so dimly +foreshadowed would ever come to pass.</p> + +<p>I closed my business about the 10th of September, and made every +arrangement to leave Washington on the mission proposed. On the 15th of +September I received a letter from Mrs. Lincoln, postmarked Chicago, +saying that she should leave the city so as to reach New York on the +night of the 17th, and directing me to precede her to the metropolis, +and secure rooms for her at the St. Denis Hotel in the name of Mrs. +Clarke, as her visit was to be <i>incog.</i> The contents of the letter were +startling to me. I had never heard of the St. Denis, and therefore +presumed that it could not be a first-class house. And I could not +understand why Mrs. Lincoln should travel, without protection, under an +assumed name. I knew that it would be impossi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>ble for me to engage rooms +at a strange hotel for a person whom the proprietors knew nothing about. +I could not write to Mrs. Lincoln, since she would be on the road to New +York before a letter could possibly reach Chicago. I could not telegraph +her, for the business was of too delicate a character to be trusted to +the wires that would whisper the secret to every curious operator along +the line. In my embarrassment, I caught at a slender thread of hope, and +tried to derive consolation from it. I knew Mrs. Lincoln to be +indecisive about some things, and I hoped that she might change her mind +in regard to the strange programme proposed, and at the last moment +despatch me to this effect. The 16th, and then the 17th of September +passed, and no despatch reached me, so on the 18th I made all haste to +take the train for New York. After an anxious ride, I reached the city +in the evening, and when I stood alone in the streets of the great +metropolis, my heart sank within me. I was in an embarrassing situation, +and scarcely knew how to act. I did not know where the St. Denis Hotel +was, and was not certain that I should find Mrs. Lincoln there after I +should go to it. I walked up to Broadway, and got into a stage going up +town, with the intention of keeping a close look-out for the hotel in +question. A kind-looking gentleman occupied the seat next to me, and I +ventured to inquire of him:</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir, can you tell me where the St. Denis Hotel is?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we ride past it in the stage. I will point it out to you when we +come to it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>The stage rattled up the street, and after a while the gentleman looked +out of the window and said:</p> + +<p>"This is the St. Denis. Do you wish to get out here?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>He pulled the strap, and the next minute I was standing on the pavement. +I pulled a bell at the ladies' entrance to the hotel, and a boy coming +to the door, I asked:</p> + +<p>"Is a lady by the name of Mrs. Clarke stopping here? She came last +night, I believe."</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I will ask at the office;" and I was left alone.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boy came back and said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Clarke is here. Do you want to see her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, just walk round there. She is down here now."</p> + +<p>I did not know where "round there" exactly was, but I concluded to go +forward.</p> + +<p>I stopped, however, thinking that the lady might be in the parlor with +company; and pulling out a card, asked the boy to take it to her. She +heard me talking, and came into the hall to see herself.</p> + +<p>"My dear Lizzie, I am so glad to see you," she exclaimed, coming forward +and giving me her hand. "I have just received your note"—I had written +her that I should join her on the 18th—"and have been trying to get a +room for you. Your note has been here all day, but it was never +delivered until to-night. Come in here, until I find out about your +room;" and she led me into the office.</p> + +<p>The clerk, like all modern hotel clerks, was exquisitely arrayed, highly +perfumed, and too self-important to be obliging, or even courteous.</p> + +<p>"This is the woman I told you about. I want a good room for her," Mrs. +Lincoln said to the clerk.</p> + +<p>"We have no room for her, madam," was the pointed rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"But she must have a room. She is a friend of mine, and I want a room +for her adjoining mine."</p> + +<p>"We have no room for her on your floor."</p> + +<p>"That is strange, sir. I tell you that she is a friend of mine, and I am +sure you could not give a room to a more worthy person."</p> + +<p>"Friend of yours, or not, I tell you we have no room for her on your +floor. I can find a place for her on the fifth floor."</p> + +<p>"That, sir, I presume, will be a vast improvement on my room. Well, if +she goes to the fifth floor, I shall go too, sir. What is good enough +for her is good enough for me."</p> + +<p>"Very well, madam. Shall I give you adjoining rooms, and send your +baggage up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and have it done in a hurry. Let the boy show us up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> Come, +Elizabeth," and Mrs. L. turned from the clerk with a haughty glance, and +we commenced climbing the stairs. I thought we should never reach the +top; and when we did reach the fifth story, what accommodations! Little +three-cornered rooms, scantily furnished. I never expected to see the +widow of President Lincoln in such dingy, humble quarters.</p> + +<p>"How provoking!" Mrs. Lincoln exclaimed, sitting down on a chair when we +had reached the top, and panting from the effects of the climbing. "I +declare, I never saw such unaccommodating people. Just to think of them +sticking us away up here in the attic. I will give them a regular going +over in the morning."</p> + +<p>"But you forget. They do not know you. Mrs. Lincoln would be treated +differently from Mrs. Clarke."</p> + +<p>"True, I do forget. Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with the +annoyances. Why did you not come to me yesterday, Lizzie? I was almost +crazy when I reached here last night, and found you had not arrived. I +sat down and wrote you a note—I felt so badly—imploring you to come to +me immediately."</p> + +<p>This note was afterwards sent to me from Washington. It reads as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="noindent">ST. DENIS HOTEL, BROADWAY, N.Y.</p> + +<p>"Wednesday, Sept. 17th.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I arrived <i>here</i> last evening in utter +despair <i>at not</i> finding you. I am frightened to death, being +here alone. Come, I pray you, by <i>next</i> train. Inquire for</p> + +<p>"MRS. CLARKE,</p> + +<p>"Room 94, 5th or 6th Story.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>"House so crowded could not get another spot. I wrote you +especially to meet me here last evening; it makes me wild to +think of being here alone. Come by <i>next train</i>, without +fail.</p> + +<p>"Your friend,</p> + +<p>"MRS. LINCOLN.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>"I am booked Mrs. Clarke; inquire for <i>no other person</i>. +<i>Come, come, come.</i> I will pay your expenses when you arrive +here. I shall not leave here or change my room until you +come.</p> + +<p>"Your friend, M. L.</p></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Do not leave this house without seeing me.</p> + +<p> +"<i>Come!</i>"<br /><br /></p></div> + +<p>I transcribe the letter literally.</p> + +<p>In reply to Mrs. Lincoln's last question, I explained what has already +been explained to the reader, that I was in hope she would change her +mind, and knew that it would be impossible to secure the rooms requested +for a person unknown to the proprietors or attachés of the hotel.</p> + +<p>The explanation seemed to satisfy her. Turning to me suddenly, she +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You have not had your dinner, Lizzie, and must be hungry. I nearly +forgot about it in the joy of seeing you. You must go down to the table +right away."</p> + +<p>She pulled the bell-rope, and a servant appearing, she ordered him to +give me my dinner. I followed him down-stairs, and he led me into the +dining-hall, and seated me at a table in one corner of the room. I was +giving my order, when the steward came forward and gruffly said:</p> + +<p>"You are in the wrong room."</p> + +<p>"I was brought here by the waiter," I replied.</p> + +<p>"It makes no difference; I will find you another place where you can eat +your dinner."</p> + +<p>I got up from the table and followed him, and when outside of the door, +said to him:</p> + +<p>"It is very strange that you should permit me to be seated at the table +in the dining-room only for the sake of ordering me to leave it the next +moment."</p> + +<p>"Are you not Mrs. Clarke's servant?" was his abrupt question.</p> + +<p>"I am with Mrs. Clarke."</p> + +<p>"It is all the same; servants are not allowed to eat in the large +dining-room. Here, this way; you must take your dinner in the servants' +hall."</p> + +<p>Hungry and humiliated as I was, I was willing to follow to any place to +get my dinner, for I had been riding all day, and had not tasted a +mouthful since early morning.</p> + +<p>On reaching the servants' hall we found the door of the room locked. The +waiter left me standing in the passage while he went to inform the clerk +of the fact.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>In a few minutes the obsequious clerk came blustering down the hall:</p> + +<p>"Did you come out of the street, or from Mrs. Clarke's room?"</p> + +<p>"From Mrs. Clarke's room," I meekly answered. My gentle words seemed to +quiet him, and then he explained:</p> + +<p>"It is after the regular hour for dinner. The room is locked up, and +Annie has gone out with the key."</p> + +<p>My pride would not let me stand longer in the hall.</p> + +<p>"Very well," I remarked, as I began climbing the stairs, "I will tell +Mrs. Clarke that I cannot get any dinner."</p> + +<p>He looked after me, with a scowl on his face:</p> + +<p>"You need not put on airs! I understand the whole thing."</p> + +<p>I said nothing, but continued to climb the stairs, thinking to myself: +"Well, if you understand the whole thing, it is strange that you should +put the widow of ex-President Abraham Lincoln in a three-cornered room +in the attic of this miserable hotel."</p> + +<p>When I reached Mrs. Lincoln's rooms, tears of humiliation and vexation +were in my eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Lizzie?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot get any dinner."</p> + +<p>"Cannot get any dinner! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>I then told her of all that had transpired below.</p> + +<p>"The insolent, overbearing people!" she fiercely exclaimed. "Never mind, +Lizzie, you shall have your dinner. Put on your bonnet and shawl."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"What for! Why, we will go out of the hotel, and get you something to +eat where they know how to behave decently;" and Mrs. Lincoln already +was tying the strings of her bonnet before the glass.</p> + +<p>Her impulsiveness alarmed me.</p> + +<p>"Surely, Mrs. Lincoln, you do not intend to go out on the street +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes I do. Do you suppose I am going to have you starve, when we can +find something to eat on every corner?"</p> + +<p>"But you forget. You are here as Mrs. Clarke and not as Mrs. Lincoln. +You came alone, and the people already suspect that everything is not +right. If you go outside of the hotel to-night, they will accept the +fact as evidence against you."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nonsense; what do you suppose I care for what these low-bred people +think? Put on your things."</p> + +<p>"No, Mrs. Lincoln, I shall not go outside of the hotel to-night, for I +realize your situation, if you do not. Mrs. Lincoln has no reason to +care what these people may say about her as Mrs. Lincoln, but she should +be prudent, and give them no opportunity to say anything about her as +Mrs. Clarke."</p> + +<p>It was with difficulty I could convince her that she should act with +caution. She was so frank and impulsive that she never once thought that +her actions might be misconstrued. It did not occur to her that she +might order dinner to be served in my room, so I went to bed without a +mouthful to eat.</p> + +<p>The next morning Mrs. Lincoln knocked at my door before six o'clock:</p> + +<p>"Come, Elizabeth, get up, I know you must be hungry. Dress yourself +quickly and we will go out and get some breakfast. I was unable to sleep +last night for thinking of you being forced to go to bed without +anything to eat."</p> + +<p>I dressed myself as quickly as I could, and together we went out and +took breakfast, at a restaurant on Broadway, some place between 609 and +the St. Denis Hotel. I do not give the number, as I prefer leaving it to +conjecture. Of one thing I am certain—the proprietor of the restaurant +little dreamed who one of his guests was that morning.</p> + +<p>After breakfast we walked up Broadway, and entering Union Square Park, +took a seat on one of the benches under the trees, watched the children +at play, and talked over the situation. Mrs. Lincoln told me: "Lizzie, +yesterday morning I called for the <i>Herald</i> at the breakfast table, and +on looking over the list of diamond brokers advertised, I selected the +firm of W. H. Brady & Co., 609 Broadway. After breakfast I walked down +to the house, and tried to sell them a lot of jewelry. I gave my name as +Mrs. Clarke. I first saw Mr. Judd, a member of the firm, a very pleasant +gentleman. We were unable to agree about the price. He went back into +the office, where a stout gentleman was seated at the desk, but I could +not hear what he said. [I know now what was said, and so shall the +reader, in parentheses. Mr. Brady has since told me that he remarked to +Mr. Judd that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> woman must be crazy to ask such outrageous prices, +and to get rid of her as soon as possible.] Soon after Mr. Judd came +back to the counter, another gentleman, Mr. Keyes, as I have since +learned, a silent partner in the house, entered the store. He came to +the counter, and in looking over my jewelry discovered my name inside of +one of the rings. I had forgotten the ring, and when I saw him looking +at the name so earnestly, I snatched the bauble from him and put it into +my pocket. I hastily gathered up my jewelry, and started out. They asked +for my address, and I left my card, Mrs. Clarke, at the St. Denis Hotel. +They are to call to see me this forenoon, when I shall enter into +negotiations with them."</p> + +<p>Scarcely had we returned to the hotel when Mr. Keyes called, and Mrs. +Clarke disclosed to him that she was Mrs. Lincoln. He was much elated to +find his surmise correct. Mrs. L. exhibited to him a large number of +shawls, dresses, and fine laces, and told him that she was compelled to +sell them in order to live. He was an earnest Republican, was much +affected by her story, and denounced the ingratitude of the government +in the severest terms. She complained to him of the treatment she had +received at the St. Denis, and he advised her to move to another hotel +forthwith. She readily consented, and as she wanted to be in an +out-of-the-way place where she would not be recognized by any of her old +friends, he recommended the Earle Hotel in Canal street.</p> + +<p>On the way down to the hotel that morning she acceded to a suggestion +made by me, and supported by Mr. Keyes, that she confide in the +landlord, and give him her name without registering, so as to ensure the +proper respect. Unfortunately, the Earle Hotel was full, and we had to +select another place. We drove to the Union Place Hotel, where we +secured rooms for Mrs. Clarke, Mrs. Lincoln changing her mind, deeming +it would not be prudent to disclose her real name to any one. After we +had become settled in our new quarters, Messrs. Keyes and Brady called +frequently on Mrs. Lincoln, and held long conferences with her. They +advised her to pursue the course she did, and were sanguine of success. +Mrs. Lincoln was very anxious to dispose of her things, and return to +Chicago as quickly and quietly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> as possible; but they presented the case +in a different light, and, I regret to say, she was guided by their +counsel. "Pooh," said Mr. Brady, "place your affairs in our hands, and +we will raise you at least $100,000 in a few weeks. The people will not +permit the widow of Abraham Lincoln to suffer; they will come to her +rescue when they know she is in want."</p> + +<p>The argument seemed plausible, and Mrs. Lincoln quietly acceded to the +proposals of Keyes and Brady.</p> + +<p>We remained quietly at the Union Place Hotel for a few days. On Sunday +Mrs. Lincoln accepted the use of a private carriage, and accompanied by +me, she drove out to Central Park. We did not enjoy the ride much, as +the carriage was a close one, and we could not throw open the window for +fear of being recognized by some one of the many thousands in the Park. +Mrs. Lincoln wore a heavy veil so as to more effectually conceal her +face. We came near being run into, and we had a spasm of alarm, for an +accident would have exposed us to public gaze, and of course the +masquerade would have been at an end. On Tuesday I hunted up a number of +dealers in secondhand clothing, and had them call at the hotel by +appointment. Mrs. Lincoln soon discovered that they were hard people to +drive a bargain with, so on Thursday we got into a close carriage, +taking a bundle of dresses and shawls with us, and drove to a number of +stores on Seventh Avenue, where an attempt was made to dispose of a +portion of the wardrobe. The dealers wanted the goods for little or +nothing, and we found it a hard matter to drive a bargain with them. +Mrs. Lincoln met the dealers squarely, but all of her tact and +shrewdness failed to accomplish much. I do not care to dwell upon this +portion of my story. Let it answer to say, that we returned to the hotel +more disgusted than ever with the business in which we were engaged. +There was much curiosity at the hotel in relation to us, as our +movements were watched, and we were regarded with suspicion. Our trunks +in the main hall below were examined daily, and curiosity was more +keenly excited when the argus-eyed reporters for the press traced Mrs. +Lincoln's name on the cover of one of her trunks. The letters had been +rubbed out, but the faint outlines remained, and these outlines<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> only +served to stimulate curiosity. Messrs. Keyes and Brady called often, and +they made Mrs. Lincoln believe that, if she would write certain letters +for them to show to prominent politicians, they could raise a large sum +of money for her. They argued that the Republican party would never +permit it to be said that the wife of Abraham Lincoln was in want; that +the leaders of the party would make heavy advances rather than have it +published to the world that Mrs. Lincoln's poverty compelled her to sell +her wardrobe. Mrs. L.'s wants were urgent, as she had to borrow $600 +from Keyes and Brady, and she was willing to adopt any scheme which +promised to place a good bank account to her credit. At different times +in her room at the Union Place Hotel she wrote the following letters:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +CHICAGO, Sept. 18, 1867.<br /></p> + +<p class="noindent">"MR. BRADY, <i>Commission Broker, No. 609 Broadway, New York</i>:<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I have this day sent to you personal property, which I am +compelled to part with, and which you will find of +considerable value. The articles consist of four camels' hair +shawls, one lace dress and shawl, a parasol cover, a diamond +ring, two dress patterns, some furs, etc.</p> + +<p>"Please have them appraised, and confer by letter with me.</p> + +<p class="author"> +Very respectfully,<br /> +"MRS. LINCOLN."<br /><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright"> +"CHICAGO, ——.</p> + +<p class="noindent">"<span class="smcap">Mr Brady</span> <i>No 609 Broadway, N.Y. City</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>"**** DEAR SIR:—The articles I am sending you to dispose of +were gifts of dear friends, which only urgent necessity +compels me to part with, and I am especially anxious that +they shall not be sacrificed.</p> + +<p>"The circumstances are peculiar, and painfully embarrassing; +therefore I hope you will endeavor to realize as much as +possible for them. Hoping to hear from you, I remain, very +respectfully,</p> + +<p class="author"> +"MRS. A. LINCOLN."<br /><br /> +</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright"> +"Sept. 25, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"W.H. BRADY, ESQ.:—My great, great sorrow and loss have made +me painfully sensitive, but as my feelings and pecuniary +comforts were never regarded or even recognized in the midst +of my overwhelming bereavement—<i>now</i> that I am pressed in a +most startling manner for means of subsistence, I do not know +why I should shrink from an opportunity of improving my +trying position.</p> + +<p>"Being assured that all you do will be appropriately +executed, and in a manner that will not startle me very +greatly, and excite as little comment as possible, again I +shall leave all in your hands.</p> + +<p>"I am passing through a very painful ordeal, which the +country, in remembrance of my noble and devoted husband, +should have spared me.</p> + +<p>"I remain, with great respect, very truly,</p> + +<p class="author"> +"MRS. LINCOLN.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"P.S.—As you mention that my goods have been valued at over +$24,000, I will be willing to make a reduction of $8,000, and +relinquish them for $16,000. If this is not accomplished, I +will continue to sell and advertise largely until every +article is sold.</p> + +<p>"I must have means to live, at least in a medium comfortable +state.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"M. L."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>The letters are dated Chicago, and addressed to Mr. Brady, though every +one of them was written in New York; for when Mrs. L. left the West for +the East, she had settled upon no definite plan of action. Mr. Brady +proposed to show the letters to certain politicians, and ask for money +on a threat to publish them if his demands, as Mrs. Lincoln's agent, +were not complied with. When writing the letters I stood at Mrs. +Lincoln's elbow, and suggested that they be couched in the mildest +language possible.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Lizzie," she said; "anything to raise the wind. One might +as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb."</p> + +<p>This latter expression was a favorite one of hers; she meaning by it, +that if one must be punished for an act, such as theft for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> instance, +that the punishment would be no more severe if a sheep were taken +instead of a lamb.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brady exhibited the letters quite freely, but the parties to whom +they were shown refused to make any advances. Meanwhile our stay at the +Union Place Hotel excited so much curiosity, that a sudden movement was +rendered expedient to avoid discovery. We sent the large trunks to 609 +Broadway, packed the smaller ones, paid our bills at the hotel, and one +morning hastily departed for the country, where we remained three days. +The movement was successful. The keen-eyed reporters for the daily +papers were thrown off the scent, and when we returned to the city we +took rooms at the Brandreth House, where Mrs. Lincoln registered as +"Mrs. Morris." I had desired her to go to the Metropolitan Hotel, and +confide in the proprietors, as the Messrs. Leland had always been very +kind to her, treating her with distinguished courtesy whenever she was +their guest; but this she refused to do.</p> + +<p>Several days passed, and Messrs. Brady and Keyes were forced to +acknowledge that their scheme was a failure. The letters had been shown +to various parties, but every one declined to act. Aside from a few +dresses sold at small prices to secondhand dealers, Mrs. Lincoln's +wardrobe was still in her possession. Her visit to New York had proved +disastrous, and she was goaded into more desperate measures. Money she +must have, and to obtain it she proposed to play a bolder game. She gave +Mr. Brady permission to place her wardrobe on exhibition for sale, and +authorized him to publish the letters in the <i>World</i>.</p> + +<p>After coming to this determination, she packed her trunks to return to +Chicago. I accompanied her to the depot, and told her good-by, on the +very morning that the letters appeared in the <i>World</i>. Mrs. Lincoln +wrote me the incidents of the journey, and the letter describes the +story more graphically than I could hope to do. I suppress many +passages, as they are of too confidential a nature to be given to the +public:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +"CHICAGO, October 6th.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"My DEAR LIZZIE:—My ink is like myself and my spirits +failing, so I write you to-day with a pencil. I had a +solitary ride to this place, as you may imagine, varied by +one or two amusing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> incidents. I found, after you left me, I +could not continue in the car in which you left me, owing to +every seat's berth being engaged; so, being simple <i>Mrs. +Clarke</i>, I had to eat 'humble-pie' in a car less commodious. +My thoughts were too much with my 'dry goods and interests' +at 609 Broadway, to care much for my surroundings, as +uncomfortable as they were. In front of me sat a middle-aged, +gray-haired, respectable-looking gentleman, who, for the +whole morning, had the page of the <i>World</i> before him which +contained my letters and business concerns. About four hours +before arriving at Chicago, a consequential-looking man, of +formidable size, seated himself by him, and it appears they +were entirely unknown to each other. The well-fed looking +individual opened the conversation with the man who had read +the <i>World</i> so attentively, and the conversation soon grew +warm and earnest. The war and its devastation engaged them. +The bluffy individual, doubtless a Republican who had +pocketed his many thousands, spoke of the widows of the land, +made so by the war. My reading man remarked to him:</p> + +<p>"'Are you aware that Mrs. Lincoln is in indigent +circumstances, and has to sell her clothing and jewelry to +gain means to make life more endurable?'</p> + +<p>"The well-conditioned man replied: 'I do not blame her for +selling her clothing, if she wishes it. I suppose <i>when sold</i> +she will convert the proceeds into five-twenties to enable +her to have means to be buried.'</p> + +<p>"The <i>World</i> man turned towards him with a searching glance, +and replied, with the haughtiest manner: 'That woman is not +dead yet.'</p> + +<p>"The discomfited individual looked down, never spoke another +word, and in half an hour left his seat, and did not return.</p> + +<p>"I give you word for word as the conversation occurred. May +it be found through the execution of my friends, Messrs. +Brady and Keyes, that 'that woman is not yet dead,' and being +alive, she speaketh and gaineth valuable hearers. Such is +life! Those who have been injured, how gladly the injurer +would consign them to mother earth and forgetfulness! Hoping +I should not be recognized at Fort Wayne, I thought I would +get out at dinner for a cup of tea. * * * will show you what +a creature of <i>fate</i> I am, as miserable as it sometimes is. I +went into the dining-room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> alone; and was ushered up to the +table, where, at its head, sat a very elegant-looking +gentleman—at his side a middle-aged lady. My black veil was +doubled over my face. I had taken my seat next to him—he at +the head of the table, I at his left hand. I immediately +<i>felt</i> a pair of eyes was gazing at me. I looked him full in +the face, and the glance was earnestly returned. I sipped my +water, and said: 'Mr. S., is this indeed you?' His face was +as pale as the table-cloth. We entered into conversation, +when I asked him how long since he had left Chicago. He +replied, 'Two weeks since.' He said, 'How strange you should +be on the train and I not know it!'</p> + +<p>"As soon as I could escape from the table, I did so by +saying, 'I must secure a cup of tea for a lady friend with me +who has a head-ache.' I had scarcely returned to the car, +when he entered it with a cup of tea borne by his own +aristocratic hands. I was a good deal annoyed by seeing him, +and he was so agitated that he spilled half of the cup over +my <i>elegantly gloved</i> hands. <i>He</i> looked very sad, and I +fancied 609 Broadway occupied his thoughts. I apologized for +the absent lady who wished the cup, by saying that 'in my +absence she had slipped out for it.' His heart was in his +eyes, notwithstanding my veiled face. Pity for me, I fear, +has something to do with all this. I never saw his manner +<i>so</i> gentle and sad. This was nearly evening, and I did not +see him again, as he returned to the lady, who was his +sister-in-law from the East. * * * What evil spirit possessed +me to go out and get that cup of tea? When he left me, +<i>woman-like</i> I tossed the cup of tea out of the window, and +tucked my head down and shed <i>bitter tears</i>. * * At the depot +my darling little Taddie was waiting for me, and his voice +never sounded so sweet. * * * My dear Lizzie, do visit Mr. +Brady each morning at nine o'clock, and urge them all you +can. I see by the papers Stewart has returned. To-morrow I +will send the invoice of goods, which please to not give up. +How much I miss you, tongue cannot tell. Forget my fright and +nervousness of the evening before. Of course you were as +innocent as a child in all you did. I consider you my best +living friend, and I am struggling to be enabled some day to +repay you. Write me often, as you promised.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"Always truly yours,<br /> +"M. L."<br /> +</p> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is not necessary for me to dwell upon the public history of Mrs. +Lincoln's unfortunate venture. The question has been discussed in all +the newspapers of the land, and these discussions are so recent that it +would be useless to introduce them in these pages, even if I had an +inclination to do so. The following, from the New York <i>Evening +Express</i>, briefly tells the story:</p> + +<p>"The attraction for ladies, and the curious and speculative of the other +sex in this city, just now, is the grand exposition of Lincoln dresses +at the office of Mr. Brady, on Broadway, a few doors south of Houston +street. The publicity given to the articles on exhibition and for sale +has excited the public curiosity, and hundreds of people, principally +women with considerable leisure moments at disposal, daily throng the +rooms of Mr. Brady, and give himself and his shop-woman more to do than +either bargained for, when a lady, with face concealed with a veil, +called and arranged for the sale of the superabundant clothing of a +distinguished and titled, but nameless lady. Twenty-five dresses, folded +or tossed about by frequent examinations, lie exposed upon a closed +piano, and upon a lounge; shawls rich and rare are displayed upon the +backs of chairs, but the more exacting obtain a better view and closer +inspection by the lady attendant throwing them occasionally upon her +shoulders, just to oblige, so that their appearance on promenade might +be seen and admired. Furs, laces, and jewelry are in a glass case, but +the 'four thousand dollars in gold' point outfit is kept in a +paste-board box, and only shown on special request.</p> + +<p>"The feeling of the majority of visitors is adverse to the course Mrs. +Lincoln has thought proper to pursue, and the criticisms are as severe +as the cavillings are persistent at the quality of some of the dresses. +These latter are labelled at Mrs. Lincoln's own estimate, and prices +range from $25 to $75—about 50 per cent less than cost. Some of them, +if not worn long, have been worn much; they are jagged under the arms +and at the bottom of the skirt, stains are on the lining, and other +objections present themselves to those who oscillate between the dresses +and dollars, 'notwithstanding they have been worn by Madam Lincoln,' as +a lady who looked from behind a pair of gold spectacles remarked. Other +dresses, however, have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> scarcely been worn—one, perhaps, while Mrs. +Lincoln sat for her picture, and from one the basting threads had not +yet been removed. The general testimony is that the wearing apparel is +high-priced, and some of the examiners say that the cost-figures must +have been put on by the dressmakers; or, if such was not the case, that +gold was 250 when they were purchased, and is now but 140—so that a +dress for which $150 was paid at the rate of high figures cannot be +called cheap at half that sum, after it has been worn considerable, and +perhaps passed out of fashion. The peculiarity of the dresses is that +the most of them are cut low-necked—a taste which some ladies attribute +to Mrs. Lincoln's appreciation of her own bust.</p> + +<p>"On Saturday last an offer was made for all the dresses. The figure +named was less than the aggregate estimate placed on them. Mr. Brady, +however, having no discretionary power, he declined to close the +bargain, but notified Mrs. Lincoln by mail. Of course, as yet, no reply +has been received. Mrs. L. desires that the auction should be deferred +till the 31st of the present month, and efforts made to dispose of the +articles at private sale up to that time.</p> + +<p>"A Mrs. C— called on Mr. Brady this morning, and examined minutely each +shawl. Before leaving the lady said that, at the time when there was a +hesitancy about the President issuing the Emancipation Proclamation, she +sent to Mrs. Lincoln an ashes-of-rose shawl, which was manufactured in +China, forwarded to France, and thence to Mrs. C—, in New York. The +shawl, the lady remarked, was a very handsome one, and should it come +into the hands of Mr. Brady to be sold, would like to be made aware of +the fact, so as to obtain possession again. Mr. Brady promised to +acquaint the ashes-of-rose donor, if the prized article should be among +the two trunks of goods now on the way from Chicago."</p> + +<p>So many erroneous reports were circulated, that I made a correct +statement to one of the editors of the New York <i>Evening News</i>. The +article based upon the memoranda furnished by me appeared in the <i>News</i> +of Oct. 12, 1867. I reproduce a portion of it in this connection:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lincoln feels sorely aggrieved at many of the harsh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> criticisms +that have been passed upon her for travelling incognito. She claims that +she adopted this course from motives of delicacy, desiring to avoid +publicity. While here, she spoke to but two former acquaintances, and +these two gentlemen whom she met on Broadway. Hundreds passed her who +had courted her good graces when she reigned supreme at the White House, +but there was no recognition. It was not because she had changed much in +personal appearance, but was merely owing to the heavy crape veil that +hid her features from view.</p> + +<p>"She seeks to defend her course while in this city—and with much force, +too. Adverting to the fact that the Empress of France frequently +disposes of her cast-off wardrobe, and publicly too, without being +subjected to any unkind remarks regarding its propriety, she claims the +same immunity here as is accorded in Paris to Eugenie. As regards her +obscurity while in this city, she says that foreigners of note and +position frequently come to our stores, and under assumed names travel +from point to point throughout our vast domain, to avoid recognition and +the inconveniences resulting from being known, though it even be in the +form of honors. For herself she regards quiet preferable to ostentatious +show, which would have cost her much indirectly, if not directly; and +this she felt herself unable to bear, according to the measure of her +present state of finances.</p> + +<p>"In a recent letter to her bosom friend, Mrs. Elizabeth Keckley, Mrs. +Lincoln pathetically remarks, 'Elizabeth, if evil come from this, pray +for my deliverance, as I did it for the best.' This referred to her +action in placing her personal effects before the public for sale, and +to the harsh remarks that have been made thereon by some whom she had +formerly regarded as her friends.</p> + +<p>"As to the articles which belonged to Mr. Lincoln, they can all be +accounted for in a manner satisfactory even to an over-critical public. +During the time Mr. Lincoln was in office he was the recipient of +several canes. After his death one was given to the Hon. Charles Sumner; +another to Fred. Douglass; another to the Rev. H. H. Garnet of this +city, and another to Mr. Wm. Slade, the present steward of the White +House, who, in Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Lincoln's lifetime, was his messenger. This +gentleman also received some of Mr. Lincoln's apparel, among which was +his heavy gray shawl. Several other of the messengers employed about the +White House came in for a share of the deceased President's effects.</p> + +<p>"The shepherd plaid shawl which Mr. Lincoln wore during the milder +weather, and which was rendered somewhat memorable as forming part of +his famous disguise, together with the Scotch cap, when he wended his +way secretly to the Capitol to be inaugurated as President, was given to +Dr. Abbot, of Canada, who had been one of his warmest friends. During +the war this gentleman, as a surgeon in the United States army, was in +Washington in charge of a hospital, and thus became acquainted with the +head of the nation.</p> + +<p>"His watch, his penknife, his gold pencil, and his glasses are now in +possession of his son Robert. Nearly all else than these few things have +passed out of the family, as Mrs. Lincoln did not wish to retain them. +But all were freely given away, and not an article was parted with for +money.</p> + +<p>"The Rev. Dr. Gurley of Washington was the spiritual adviser of the +President and his family. They attended his church. When little 'Willie' +died, he officiated at the funeral. He was a most intimate friend of the +family, and when Mr. Lincoln lay upon his death-bed Mr. Gurley was by +his side. He, as his clergyman, performed the funeral rites upon the +body of the deceased President, when it lay cold in death at the City of +Washington. He received the hat worn last by Mr. Lincoln, as we have +before stated, and it is still retained by him.</p> + +<p>"The dress that was worn by Mrs. Lincoln on the night of the +assassination was presented to Mrs. Wm. Slade. It is a black silk with a +little white stripe. Most of the other articles that adorned Mrs. +Lincoln on that fatal night became the property of Mrs. Keckley. She has +the most of them carefully stowed away, and intends keeping them during +her life as mementos of a mournful event. The principal articles among +these are the earrings, the bonnet, and the velvet cloak. The writer of +this saw the latter on Thursday. It bears most palpable marks of the +assassination, being completely bespattered with blood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> that has dried +upon its surface, and which can never be removed.</p> + +<p>"A few words as regard the disposition and habits of Mrs. Lincoln. She +is no longer the sprightly body she was when her very presence illumed +the White House with gayety. Now she is sad and sedate, seeking +seclusion, and maintaining communication merely with her most intimate +personal friends. The most of her time she devotes to instructive +reading within the walls of her boudoir. Laying her book aside +spasmodically, she places her hand upon her forehead, as if ruminating +upon something momentous. Then her hand wanders amid her heavy tresses, +while she ponders for but a few seconds—then, by a sudden start, she +approaches her writing-stand, seizes a pen, and indites a few hasty +lines to some trusty friend, upon the troubles that weigh so heavily +upon her. Speedily it is sent to the post-office; but, hardly has the +mail departed from the city before she regrets her hasty letter, and +would give much to recall it. But, too late, it is gone, and probably +the secrets it contains are not confidentially kept by the party to whom +it was addressed, and soon it furnishes inexhaustible material for +gossip-loving people.</p> + +<p>"As some citizens have expressed themselves desirous of aiding Mrs. +Lincoln, a subscription-book was opened at the office of her agent, Mr. +Brady, No. 609 Broadway, this morning. There is no limitation as to the +amount which may be given, though there was a proposition that a dollar +should be contributed by each person who came forward to inspect the +goods. Had each person who handled these articles given this sum, a +handsome amount would already have been realized.</p> + +<p>"The colored people are moving in this matter. They intend to take up +collections in their churches for the benefit of Mrs. Lincoln. They are +enthusiastic, and a trifle from every African in this city would, in the +aggregate, swell into an immense sum, which would be doubly acceptable +to Mrs. Lincoln. It would satisfy her that the black people still have +the memory of her deceased husband fresh in their minds.</p> + +<p>"The goods still remain exposed to sale, but it is now announced that +they will be sold at public auction on the 30th of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> this month, unless +they be disposed of before that at private sale."</p> + +<p>It is stated in the article that the "colored people are moving in this +matter." The colored people were surprised to hear of Mrs. Lincoln's +poverty, and the news of her distress called forth strong sympathy from +their warm, generous hearts. Rev. H. H. Garnet, of New York City, and +Mr. Frederick Douglass, of Rochester, N.Y., proposed to lecture in +behalf of the widow of the lamented President, and schemes were on foot +to raise a large sum of money by contribution. The colored people +recognized Abraham Lincoln as their great friend, and they were anxious +to show their kind interest in the welfare of his family in some way +more earnest and substantial than simple words. I wrote Mrs. Lincoln +what we proposed to do, and she promptly replied, declining to receive +aid from the colored people. I showed her letter to Mr. Garnet and Mr. +Douglass, and the whole project was at once abandoned. She afterwards +consented to receive contributions from my people, but as the services +of Messrs. Douglass, Garnet, and others had been refused when first +offered, they declined to take an active part in the scheme; so nothing +was ever done. The following letters were written before Mrs. Lincoln +declined to receive aid from the colored people:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noindent"> +"183 BLEECKER ST., NEW YORK, <span class="smcap">October 16th</span>, 1867.<br /> +"J. H. BRADY, ESQ.:—<br /> +</p> + +<p>"I have just received your favor, together with the +circulars. I will do all that lies in my power, but I fear +that will not be as much as you anticipate. I think, however, +that a contribution from the colored people of New York will +be worth something in a moral point of view, and likely that +will be the most that will be accomplished in the +undertaking. I am thoroughly with you in the work, although +but little may be done.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"I am truly yours,<br /> +"HENRY HIGHLAND GARNET.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I think it would be well if you would drop a line to +Mr. Frederick Douglass, at Rochester, New York.</p> + +<p class="author">"H. H. G."<br /><br /></p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +"ROCHESTER, Oct. 18, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:—You judge me rightly—I am willing to +do what I can to place the widow of our martyr President in +the affluent position which her relation to that good man and +to the country entitles her to. But I doubt the wisdom of +getting up a series of lectures for that purpose; that is +just the last thing that should be done. Still, if the thing +is done, it should be done on a grand scale. The best +speakers in the country should be secured for the purpose. +You should not place me at the head nor at the foot of the +list, but sandwich me between, for thus out of the way, it +would not give <i>color</i> to the idea. I am to speak in Newark +on Wednesday evening next, and will endeavor to see you on +the subject. Of course, if it would not be too much to ask, I +would gladly see Mrs. Lincoln, if this could be done in a +quiet way without the reporters getting hold of it, and using +it in some way to the prejudice of that already much abused +lady. As I shall see you soon, there is less reason to write +you at length.</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I am, dear madam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"With high respect,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Very truly yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"FREDERICK DOUGLASS."</span><br /><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright">"POTTSVILLE, Oct. 29, 1867.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:—You know the drift of my views +concerning the subscription for Mrs. Lincoln. Yet I wish to +place them more distinctly before you, so that, if you have +occasion to refer to me in connection with the matter, you +can do so with accuracy and certainty.</p> + +<p>"It is due Mrs. Lincoln that she should be indemnified, as +far as money can do so, for the loss of her beloved husband. +Honor, gratitude, and a manly sympathy, all say yes to this. +I am willing to go farther than this, and say that Mrs. +Lincoln herself should be the judge of the amount which shall +be deemed sufficient, believing that she would not transcend +reasonable limits. The obligation resting on the nation at +large is great and increasing, but especially does it become +colored men to recognize that obligation. It was the hand of +Abraham Lincoln that broke the fetters of our enslaved +people, and let them out of the house of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> bondage. When he +was slain, our great benefactor fell, and left his wife and +children to the care of those for whom he gave up all. Shame +on the man or woman who, under such circumstances, would +grudge a few paltry dollars, to smooth the pathway of such a +widow! All this, and more, I feel and believe. But such is +the condition of this question, owing to party feeling, and +personal animosities now mixed up with it, that we are +compelled to consider these in the effort we are making to +obtain subscriptions.</p> + +<p>"Now, about the meeting in Cooper Institute; I hold that that +meeting should only be held in concert with other movements. +It is bad generalship to put into the field only a fraction +of your army when you have no means to prevent their being +cut to pieces. It is gallant to go forth single-handed, but +is it wise? I want to see something more than the spiteful +<i>Herald</i> behind me when I step forward in this cause at the +Cooper Institute. Let Mr. Brady out with his circulars, with +his list of commanding names, let the <i>Herald</i> and <i>Tribune</i> +give a united blast upon their bugles, let the city be +placarded, and the doors of Cooper Institute be flung wide +open, and the people, without regard to party, come up to the +discharge of this national duty.</p> + +<p>"Don't let the cause be made ridiculous by failure at the +outset. Mr. Garnet and I could bear any mortification of this +kind; but the cause could not. And our cause must not be +damaged by any such generalship, which would place us in the +van unsupported.</p> + +<p>"I shall be at home by Saturday; please write me and let me +know how matters are proceeding. Show this letter to Messrs. +Brady and Garnet.</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I am, dear madam,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Very truly yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"FREDERICK DOUGLASS."</span><br /><br /> +</p></div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright"> +"ROCHESTER, Oct. 30, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:—It is just possible that I may not +take New York in my route homeward. In that case please write +me directly at Rochester, and let me know fully how the +subscription business is proceeding. The meeting here last +night was a grand success. I speak again this evening, and +perhaps at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> Reading tomorrow evening. My kind regards to all +who think of me at 21, including Mrs. Lawrence.</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Very truly yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"FREDK. DOUGLASS."</span><br /><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="indright"> +"ROCHESTER, Nov. 10, 1867.<br /> +</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:—I very easily read your handwriting. +With practice you will not only write legibly but elegantly; +so no more apologies for <i>bad</i> writing. Penmanship has always +been one of my own deficiencies, and I know how to sympathize +with you.</p> + +<p>"I am just home, and find your letter awaiting me. You should +have received an earlier answer but for this absence. I am +sorry it will be impossible for me to see you before I go to +Washington. I am leaving home this week for Ohio, and shall +go from Ohio to Washington. I shall be in New York a day or +two after my visit to Washington, and will see you there. Any +public demonstration in which it will be desirable for me to +take part, ought to come off the last of this month or the +first of next. I thank you sincerely for the note containing +a published letter of dear Mrs. Lincoln; both letters do +credit to the excellent lady. I prize her beautiful letter to +me very highly. It is the letter of a refined and spirited +lady, let the world say what it will of her. I would write +her a word of acknowledgment but for fear to burden her with +correspondence. I am glad that Mr. Garnet and yourself saw +Mr. Greeley, and that he takes the right view of the matter; +but we want more than right views, and delay is death to the +movement. What you now want is action and cooperation. If Mr. +Brady does not for any reason find himself able to move the +machinery, somebody else should be found to take his place; +he made a good impression on me when I saw him, but I have +not seen the promised simultaneous movement of which we spoke +when together. This whole thing should be in the hands of +some recognized solid man in New York. No man would be better +than Mr. Greeley; no man in the State is more laughed at, and +yet no man is more respected and trusted; a dollar placed in +his hands would be as safe for the purpose as in a +burglar-proof safe, and what is better still, everybody +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>lieves this. This testimonial must be more than a negro +testimonial. It is a great national duty. Mr. Lincoln did +everything for the black man, but he did it not for the black +man's sake, but for the nation's sake. His life was given for +the nation; but for being President, Mr. Lincoln would have +been alive, and Mrs. Lincoln would have been a wife, and not +a widow as now. Do all you can, dear Mrs. Keckley—nobody can +do more than you in removing the mountains of prejudice +towards that good lady, and opening the way of success in the +plan.</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I am, dear madam, very truly yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"FREDERICK DOUGLASS."</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Many persons called at 609 Broadway to examine Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe, +but as curiosity prompted each visit, but few articles were sold. +Messrs. Brady & Keyes were not very energetic, and, as will be seen by +the letters of Mrs. Lincoln, published in the Appendix, that lady +ultimately lost all confidence in them. It was proposed to send +circulars, stating Mrs. Lincoln's wants, and appealing to the generosity +of the people for aid, broad-cast over the country; but the scheme +failed. Messrs. Brady & Keyes were unable to obtain the names of +prominent men, whom the people had confidence in, for the circular, to +give character and responsibility to the movement—so the whole thing +was abandoned. With the Rev. Mr. Garnet, I called on Mr. Greeley, at the +office of the <i>Tribune</i>, in connection with this scheme. Mr. Greeley +received us kindly, and listened patiently to our proposals—then said:</p> + +<p>"I shall take pleasure in rendering you what assistance I can, but the +movement must be engineered by responsible parties. Messrs. Brady & +Keyes are not the men to be at the head of it. Nobody knows who they +are, or what they are. Place the matter in the hands of those that the +people know and have some confidence in, and then there will be a chance +for success."</p> + +<p>We thanked Mr. Greeley for his advice, for we believed it to be good +advice, and bowed ourselves out of his room. When Messrs. Brady & Keyes +were informed of the result of our interview, they became very much +excited, and denounced Mr. Greeley as "an old fool." This put an end to +the circular movement. The enterprise was nipped in the bud, and with +the bud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> withered Mrs. Lincoln's last hope for success. A portion of the +wardrobe was then taken to Providence, to be exhibited, but without her +consent. Mr. Brady remarked that the exhibition would bring in money, +and as money must be raised, this was the last resort. He was of the +impression that Mrs. Lincoln would approve of any movement, so it ended +in success. This, at least, is a charitable view to take of the subject. +Had the exhibition succeeded in Providence, it is my opinion that the +agents of Brady & Keyes would now be travelling over the country, +exposing Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe to the view of the curious, at so much +per head. As is well known, the city authorities refused to allow the +exhibition to take place in Providence; therefore Mr. Brady returned to +New York with the goods, and the travelling show scheme, like the +circular scheme, was abandoned. Weeks lengthened into months, and at +Mrs. Lincoln's urgent request I remained in New York, to look after her +interests. When she left the city I engaged quiet lodgings in a private +family, where I remained about two months, when I moved to 14 Carroll +Place, and became one of the regular boarders of the house. Mrs. +Lincoln's venture proved so disastrous that she was unable to reward me +for my services, and I was compelled to take in sewing to pay for my +daily bread. My New York expedition has made me richer in experience, +but poorer in purse. During the entire winter I have worked early and +late, and practised the closest economy. Mrs. Lincoln's business +demanded much of my time, and it was a constant source of trouble to me. +When Mrs. L. left for the West, I expected to be able to return to +Washington in one week from the day; but unforeseen difficulties arose, +and I have been detained in the city for several months. As I am writing +the concluding pages of this book, I have succeeded in closing up Mrs. +Lincoln's imprudent business arrangement at 609 Broadway. The firm of +Brady & Keyes is dissolved, and Mr. Keyes has adjusted the account. The +story is told in a few words. On the 4th of March I received the +following invoice from Mr. Keyes:</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="indright">"March 4, '68.</p> + +<p class="noindent">"<i>Invoice of articles sent to Mrs. A. Lincoln:</i></p> + +<ul class="lsoff"> +<li>1 Trunk.</li> +<li>1 Lace dress.</li> +<li>1 do. do. flounced.</li> +<li>5 Lace shawls.</li> +<li>3 Camel hair shawls.</li> +<li>1 Lace parasol cover.</li> +<li>1 do. handkerchief.</li> +<li>1 Sable boa.</li> +<li>1 White do.</li> +<li>1 Set furs.</li> +<li>2 Paisley shawls.</li> +<li>2 Gold bracelets.</li> +<li>16 Dresses.</li> +<li>2 Opera cloaks.</li> +<li>1 Purple shawl.</li> +<li>1 Feather cape.</li> +<li>28 yds. silk.</li> +</ul> + +<p class="noindent">ARTICLES SOLD.</p> + + +<ul class="lsoff"><li>1 Diamond ring.</li> +<li>3 Small do.</li> +<li>1 Set furs.</li> +<li>1 Camel hair shawl.</li> +<li>1 Red do.</li> +<li>2 Dresses.</li> +<li>1 Child's shawl.</li> +<li>1 Lace Chantilly shawl."</li></ul> + +</div> + +<p>The charges of the firm amounted to eight hundred dollars. Mrs. Lincoln +sent me a check for this amount. I handed this check to Mr. Keyes, and +he gave me the following receipt:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, eight +hundred and twenty dollars by draft on American National Bank, New York.</p> + +<p class="author">"S. C. KEYES."</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>I packed the articles invoiced, and expressed the trunks to Mrs. +Lincoln at Chicago. I then demanded and received a receipt worded as +follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, +eight hundred and twenty dollars in full of all demands of +every kind up to date.</p> + +<p class="author"> +"S. C. KEYES."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>This closed up the business, and with it I close the imperfect story of +my somewhat romantic life. I have experienced many ups and downs, but +still am stout of heart. The labor of a lifetime has brought me nothing +in a pecuniary way. I have worked hard, but fortune, fickle dame, has +not smiled upon me. If poverty did not weigh me down as it does, I would +not now be toiling by day with my needle, and writing by night, in the +plain little room on the fourth floor of No. 14 Carroll Place. And yet I +have learned to love the garret-like room. Here, with Mrs. Amelia +Lancaster as my only companion, I have spent many pleasant hours, as +well as sad ones, and every chair looks like an old friend. In memory I +have travelled through the shadows and the sunshine of the past, and the +bare walls are associated with the visions that have come to me from the +long-ago. As I love the children of memory, so I love every article in +this room, for each has become a part of memory itself. Though poor in +worldly goods, I am rich in friendships, and friends are a recompense +for all the woes of the darkest pages of life. For sweet friendship's +sake, I can bear more burdens than I have borne.</p> + +<p>The letters appended from Mrs. Lincoln to myself throw a flood of light +upon the history of the "old clothes" speculation in New York.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="APPENDIX" id="APPENDIX"></a>APPENDIX</h3> + +<h2>LETTERS FROM MRS. LINCOLN TO MRS. KECKLEY.</h2> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Sunday Morning, Oct. 6.</p> + +<p class="noindent">"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I am writing this morning with a broken heart after a +sleepless night of great mental suffering. R. came up last evening like +a maniac, and almost threatening his life, looking like death, because +the letters of the <i>World</i> were published in yesterday's paper. I could +not refrain from weeping when I saw him so miserable. But yet, my dear +good Lizzie, was it not to protect myself and help others—and was not +my motive and action of the purest kind? Pray for me that this cup of +affliction may pass from me, or be sanctified to me. I weep whilst I am +writing. * * * * I pray for death this morning. Only my darling Taddie +prevents my taking my life. I shall have to endure a round of newspaper +abuse from the Republicans because I dared venture to relieve a few of +my wants. Tell Mr. Brady and Keyes not to have a line of mine once more +in print. I am nearly losing my reason.</p> + +<p class="author">"Your friend,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Oct. 8.</p> + +<p class="noindent">"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Bowed down with suffering and anguish, again I write +you. As we might have expected, the Republicans are falsifying me, and +doing <i>just</i> as they did when they prevented the Congressional +appropriation. Mrs. —— knows something about these same people. As her +husband is <i>living</i> they dare not utter all they would desire to speak. +You know yourself how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> innocently I have acted, and from the best and +purest motives. They will <i>howl</i> on to prevent my disposing of my +things. What a <i>vile, vile</i> set they are! The <i>Tribune</i> here, Mr. +White's paper, wrote a very beautiful editorial yesterday in my behalf; +yet knowing that I have been deprived of my rights by the party, I +suppose I would be <i>mobbed</i> if I ventured out. What a world of anguish +this is—and how I have been made to suffer! * * * You would not +recognize me now. The glass shows me a pale, wretched, haggard face, and +my dresses are like bags on me. And all because I was doing what I felt +to be my duty. Our minister, Mr. Swazey, called on me yesterday and said +I had done perfectly right. Mrs. F— says every one speaks in the same +way. The politicians, knowing they have deprived me of my just rights, +would prefer to see me starve, rather than dispose of my things. They +will prevent the sale of anything, so I have telegraphed for them. I +hope you have received from B. the letters I have consigned to his care. +See to this. Show none of them. Write me every day.</p> + +<p class="author">"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Wednesday, October 9th.</p> + +<p class="noindent">"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—It appears as if the fiends had let loose, for the +Republican papers are tearing me to pieces in this border ruffian West. +If I had committed murder in every city in this <i>blessed</i> Union, I could +not be more traduced. And you know how innocent I have been of the +intention of doing wrong. A piece in the morning <i>Tribune</i>, signed 'B,' +pretending to be a lady, says there is no doubt Mrs. L.—<i>is</i> +deranged—has been for years past, and will end her life in a lunatic +asylum. They would doubtless like me to begin it <i>now</i>. Mr. S., a very +kind, sympathizing minister, has been with me this morning, and has now +gone to see Mr. Medill, of the <i>Tribune</i>, to know if <i>he</i> sanctioned his +paper publishing such an article. * * * Pray for me, dear Lizzie, for I +am very miserable and broken-hearted. Since writing this, I have just +received a letter from Mr. Keyes, begging and pleading with me to allow +them to use my name for donations. I think I will consent. * *</p> + +<p class="author">"Truly yours,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Sunday, Oct. 13.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I am greatly disappointed, having only received one +letter from you since we parted, which was dated the day after. Day +after day I sent to Mrs. F. for letters. After your promise of writing +to me every other day, I can scarcely understand it. I hope to-morrow +will bring me a letter from you. How much I miss you cannot be +expressed. I hope you have arrived safely in Washington, and will tell +me everything. * * * Was there ever such cruel newspaper abuse lavished +upon an unoffending woman as has been showered upon my devoted head? The +people of this ungrateful country are like the 'dogs in the manger;' +will neither do anything themselves, nor allow me to improve my own +condition. What a Government we have! All their abuse lavished upon me +only lowers themselves in the estimation of all true-hearted people. The +Springfield <i>Journal</i> had an editorial a few days since, with the +important information that Mrs. Lincoln had been known to be <i>deranged</i> +for years, and should be <i>pitied</i> for all her <i>strange acts</i>. I should +have been <i>all right</i> if I had allowed <i>them</i> to take possession of the +White House. In the comfortable stealings by contracts from the +Government, these low creatures are allowed to hurl their malicious +wrath at me, with no one to defend me or protect me, if I should starve. +These people injure themselves far more than they could do me, by their +lies and villany. Their aim is to prevent my goods being sold, or +anything being done for me. <i>In this</i>, I very much fear, they have +succeeded.</p> + +<p>"Write me, my dear friend, your candid opinion about everything. I +wished to be made better off, quite as much to improve your condition as +well as for myself. * * * Two weeks ago, dear Lizzie, we were in that +<i>den</i> of discomfort and dirt. <i>Now</i> we are far asunder. Every other day, +for the past week, I have had a chill, brought on by excitement and +suffering of mind. In the midst of it I have moved into my winter +quarters, and am now very comfortably situated. My parlor and bedroom +are very sweetly furnished. I am lodged in a handsome house, a very +kind, good, <i>quiet</i> family, and their meals are excellent. I consider +myself fortunate in all this. I feel assured that the Republicans, who, +to cover up their own perfidy and neglect, have used every villanous +falsehood in their power to injure me—I fear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> they have <i>more</i> than +succeeded, but if their day of reckoning does not come in this world, it +<i>will surely</i> in the next. * * * *</p> + +<p>"<i>Saturday.</i>—I have determined to shed no more tears over all their +cruel falsehoods, yet, just now, I feel almost forsaken by God and +man—except by the <i>latter</i> to be vilified. Write me all that Keyes and +Brady think of the result. For myself, after <i>such</i> abuse, I <i>expect</i> +nothing. Oh! that I could see you. Write me, dear Lizzie, if only a +line; I cannot understand your silence. Hereafter direct your letters to +Mrs. A. Lincoln, 460 West Washington street, Chicago, Ill., care of D. +Cole. Remember 460. I am always so anxious to hear from you, I am +feeling so <i>friendless</i> in the world. I remain always your affectionate +friend.</p> + +<p class="author">M. L."<br /></p> + + +<p>POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER OF OCT. 24.</p> + +<p>"I cannot send this letter off without writing you two little incidents +that have occurred within the past week. We may call it <i>justice</i> +rendered for <i>evil words</i>, to say the least. There is a paper published +in Chicago called the <i>Republican</i>, owned and published by Springfield +men. Each morning since my return it has been thrown at my door, filled +with abuse of myself. Four days ago a piece appeared in it, asking 'What +right had Mrs. L. to diamonds and laces?' Yesterday morning an article +appeared in the same paper, announcing that the day previous, at the +house of Mr. Bunn (the owner of the paper), in Springfield, +Illinois—the house had been entered at 11 in the morning, by burglars, +and had been robbed of <i>five</i> diamond rings, and a quantity of fine +laces. This morning's paper announces the recovery of these articles. +Mr. Bunn, who made his hundreds of thousands off our government, is +running this paper, and denouncing the wife of the man from whom he +obtained his means. I enclose you the article about the recovery of the +goods. A few years ago he had a <i>small grocery</i> in S——. These facts +can be authenticated. Another case in point: The evening I left my house +to come here, the young daughter of one of my neighbors in the same +block, was in a house not a square off, and in a childish manner was +regretting that I could not retain my house. The man in the house said: +'Why waste your tears and regrets on Mrs. Lincoln?' An hour afterward +the husband and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> wife went out to make a call, doubtless to gossip about +me; on their return they found their young boy had almost blinded +himself with gunpowder. Who will say that the cry of the 'widow and +fatherless' is disregarded in <i>His</i> sight! If man is not merciful, God +will be in his own time.</p> + +<p class="author">M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, October 29.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I received a very pleasant note from Mr. F. Douglass +on yesterday. I will reply to it this morning, and enclose it to you to +hand or send him immediately. In this morning's <i>Tribune</i> there was a +little article <i>evidently</i> designed to make capital <i>against</i> me just +now—that <i>three</i> of my brothers were in the Southern army during the +war. If they had been friendly with me they might have said they were +<i>half</i> brothers of Mrs. L., whom she had not known since they were +infants; and as she left Kentucky at an early age her sympathies were +entirely Republican—that her feelings were entirely with the North +during the war, and always. I never failed to urge my husband to be an +<i>extreme</i> Republican, and now, in the day of my trouble, you see how +<i>this</i> very party is trying to work against me. Tell Mr. Douglass, and +every one, how deeply my feelings were enlisted in the cause of freedom. +Why <i>harp</i> upon these <i>half</i> brothers, whom I never knew since they were +infants, and scarcely then, for my early home was truly at a <i>boarding</i> +school. Write to him all this, and talk it to every one else. If we +succeed I will soon send you enough for a very large supply of trimming +material for the winter.</p> + +<p class="author">Truly,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Nov. 2nd.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Your letter of last Wednesday is received, and I +cannot refrain from expressing my surprise that before now K. and B. did +not go out in <i>search</i> of names, and have sent forth all those +circulars. Their conduct is becoming mysterious. We have heard enough of +<i>their talk</i>—it is time now they should be <i>acting</i>. Their delay, I +fear, has ruined the business. The circulars should all have been out +before the <i>election</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> I cannot understand their slowness. As Mr. +Greeley's home is in New York, he could certainly have been found had he +<i>been sought</i>; and there are plenty of other good men in New York, as +well as himself. I venture to say, that <i>before</i> the election not a +circular will be sent out. I begin to think they are making a political +business of <i>my clothes</i>, and not for <i>my</i> benefit either. Their delay +in acting is becoming very suspicious. Their slow, bad management is +<i>ruining</i> every prospect of success. I fear you are only losing your +time in New York, and that I shall be left <i>in debt</i> for what I am owing +the firm. I have written to K. and B., and they do nothing that I +request. I want neither Mr. Douglass nor Garnet to lecture in my behalf. +The conduct in New York is disgusting me with the whole business. I +cannot understand what they have been about. Their delay has only given +the enemies time to <i>gather</i> strength; what does it all mean? Of course +give the lady at 609 permission to sell the dresses cheaper. * * * I am +feeling wretchedly over the slowness and <i>do-nothing</i> style of B. & K. I +believe in my heart I am being used as a tool for party purposes; and +they do not design sending out a circular. * * *</p> + +<p class="author">"Your friend,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Nov. 9, 1867.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—* * * Did you receive a letter a few days since, with +one enclosed for F. Douglass? also a printed letter of mine, which I +wished him to read? Do write me every other day at least, I am so +<i>nervous and miserable</i>. And Lizzie, dear, I fear we have not the +<i>least</i> chance of success. <i>Do</i> remain in New York a little longer, and +occupy yourself with the sewing of your friends. <i>Then</i> I shall be able +to learn <i>some</i>thing about my business. In <i>your heart</i> you know there +will be no success. <i>Why</i> do you not candidly express yourself to me? +Write me, if only a few lines, and that very frequently. R. called up on +yesterday, with Judge Davis. * * * R. goes with Judge D. on Tuesday, to +settle the estate, which will give us each about $25,000, with the +income I told you of, $1,700 a year for each of us. You made a mistake +about my house costing $2,700—it was $1,700. The $22,000 Congress gave +me I spent for house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and furniture, which, owing to the smallness of my +income, I was obliged to leave. I mention about the division of the +estate to you, dear Lizzie, because when it is done the <i>papers</i> will +harp upon it. You can explain everything in New York; please do so to +every one. Please see H. G., if it should come out in the papers. I had +hoped, if something was gained, to have immediately placed <i>you</i> in more +pleasant circumstances. Do urge F. D. to add his name to the circular; +also get them to have Beecher's. There must not be an hour's delay in +this. R. is very spiteful at present, and I think hurries up the +division to <i>cross</i> my purposes. He mentioned yesterday that he was +going to the Rocky Mountains so soon as Edgar Welles joined him. He is +very <i>deep</i>. * * * Write me, <i>do</i>, when you receive this. Your silence +pains me.</p> + +<p class="author">"Truly yours,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, NOV. 9.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I closed and sent off my letter before I had finished +all I had to say. Do not hint to K. or B., or any one else, my doubts of +them, <i>only watch them</i>. As to S. so many falsehoods are told in the +papers that all the stuff about his wife and himself may be untrue. I +hope it may prove so. I received a letter from Keyes this morning. I +believe I wrote you that I had. How hard it is that I cannot see and +talk with you in this time of great, <i>great</i> trouble. I feel as if I had +not a friend in the world save yourself. * * I sometimes wish myself out +of this world of sorrow and care. I fear my fine articles at B.'s are +getting pulled to pieces and soiled. I do not wish you to leave N.Y. +without having the finest articles packed up and returned to me. The +<i>single</i> white camel's hair shawl and the two Paisleys I wish returned +to me, if none of them are sold. Do you think there is the least chance +of <i>their</i> being sold? I will give you a list of the articles I wish +returned to me from Mr. Brady's before <i>you leave</i> New York for +Washington.</p> + +<ul class="lsoff"> +<li>"1 Camel's hair shawl, double black centre.</li> +<li>1 Camel's hair shawl, double white centre.</li> +<li>1 Single white camel's hair shawl.</li> +<li>2 Paisley shawls--white.</li> +<li>1 Pair bracelets and diamond ring.</li> +<li>1 Fine lace handkerchief.</li> +<li>3 Black lace shawls.</li> +<li>2 Black lama shawls.</li> +<li>1 Dress, silk unmade, white and black.</li> +<li>1 White boa.</li> +<li>1 Russian sable boa.</li> +<li>1 Russian sable cape.</li> +<li>1 A. sable cape, cuffs and muff.</li> +<li>1 Chinchilla set.</li> +</ul> + +<p>"The lace dress, flounce, and shawl, if there is no possibility of their +being sold. Also all other fine articles return me, save the dresses +which, with prices lowered, may be sold. * *</p> + +<p class="author">"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Nov. 15, '67.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR KECKLEY;—Your last letter has been received, and believe me, I +duly appreciate your great interest in my affairs. I hope the day <i>may</i> +arrive when I can return your kindness in <i>more</i> than words. As you are +aware of my beloved husband's great indulgence to me in pecuniary +matters, thereby allowing me to indulge in bestowing favors on those +whom I considered worthy of it, it is in this respect I feel chiefly the +humiliation of my small circumscribed income. If Congress, or the +Nation, had given me the four years' salary, I should have been able to +live as the widow of the great President Lincoln should, with sufficient +means to give liberally to all benevolent objects, and at my death +should have left at least half of it to the freedmen, for the liberty of +whom his precious sacred life was sacrificed. The men who prevented +<i>this</i> being done by their villanous unscrupulous falsehoods, are no +friends of the colored race, and, as you well know, have led Johnson on +in his wicked course.</p> + +<p>"'<i>God is just</i>,' and the day of retribution will come to all such, if +not in this world, in the great hereafter, to which those hoary-headed +sinners are so rapidly hastening, with an innocent conscience. I did not +feel it necessary to raise my weak woman's voice against the +persecutions that have assailed me emanating from the tongues of such +men as Weed & Co. I have felt that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> their infamous false lives was a +sufficient vindication of my character. They have never forgiven me for +standing between my pure and noble husband and themselves, when, for +their own vile purposes, they would have led him into error. <i>All this</i> +the country knows, and why should I dwell longer on it? In the blissful +home where my worshipped husband dwells God is ever merciful, and it is +the consolation of my broken heart that my darling husband is ever +retaining the devoted love which he always so abundantly manifested for +his wife and children in this life. I feel assured his watchful, loving +eyes are always watching over us, and he is fully aware of the wrong and +injustice permitted his family by a country he lost his life in +protecting. I write earnestly, because I feel very deeply. It appears to +me a very remarkable coincidence, that most of the good feeling +regarding my straitened circumstances proceeds from the colored people, +in whose cause my noble husband was so largely interested. Whether we +are successful or not, Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet will always have +my most grateful thanks. They are very noble men. If any <i>favorable</i> +results should crown their efforts, you may well believe at my death, +whatever sum it may be, will be bequeathed to the colored people, who +are very near my heart. In yesterday's paper it was announced that Gov. +Andrew's family were having $100,000 contributed to them. Gov. A. was a +good man, but what did <i>he</i> do compared to President Lincoln? Right and +left the latter gave, when he had but little to bestow, and in +consequence his family are now feeling it; yet for my life I would not +recall a dollar he ever gave. Yet his favorite expression, when I have +playfully alluded to the 'rainy day' that might be in store for <i>himself +and his own</i> on several occasions, he has looked at me so earnestly and +replied, 'Cast your bread upon the waters.' Although the petty sum of +$22,000 was an insufficient return for Congress to make me, and +allowanced to its meagreness by men who traduced and vilified the loved +wife of the great man who <i>made them</i>, and from whom they amassed great +fortunes—for <i>Weed, and Seward, and R.</i> did this last. And yet, <i>all +this</i> was permitted by an American people, who owed <i>their</i> remaining a +nation to my husband! I have dwelt too long on this painful subject, but +when I have been compelled from a pitiful income to make a +boarding-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>house of my home, as I now am doing, think you that it does +not rankle in my heart?</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, with my husband's great, great love for me—the knowledge +of this future for his petted and idolized wife was spared him, and yet +I feel in my heart <i>he</i> knows it all. Mr. Sumner, the intimate friend of +better days, called to see me two or three weeks since—he who had been +an habitué of the White House—both the rooms of the President and my +own reception-room, in either place he was always sure of a heartfelt +welcome; my present situation must have struck a painful chord in his +noble, sympathizing heart. And yet, when I endeavored to ameliorate my +condition, the cry has been so fearful against me as to cause me to +forget my own identity, and suppose I had plundered the nation, indeed, +and committed murder. This, certainly, cannot be America, 'the land of +the <i>free</i>,' the 'home of the <i>brave</i>.' The evening before Mr. Sumner's +last call I had received Mr. Douglass's letter; I mentioned the +circumstance to Mr. Sumner, who replied: 'Mr. Frederick Douglass is a +very noble, talented man, and I know of no one who writes a more +beautiful letter.' I am sending you a long letter, Lizzie, but I rely a +great deal on your indulgence. My fear is that you will not be able to +decipher the scrawl written so hastily.</p> + +<p class="author">"I remain, truly yours,<br /> +"MARY LINCOLN."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Nov. 17.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—By the time you receive this note, you will doubtless +find the papers <i>raving</i> over the large income which we are each <i>said</i> +to have. Knowing exactly the amount we each will have, which I have +already informed you, I was going to say, I have been shocked at the +<i>fabulous</i> sum set down to each, but I have learned not to be surprised +at anything. Of course it is gotten up to defeat success. <i>You</i> will +<i>now</i> see the necessity for those circulars being issued weeks since. I +enclose you a scrap from yesterday's <i>Times</i> of C., marked No. 1; also +No. 2, to-day's <i>Times</i>. The sum of $11,000 has been subtracted in +twenty-four hours from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> same paper. If it continues for a few days +longer, it will soon be right. It is a secesh paper—says Congress gave +me $25,000 as a <i>present</i>, besides $20,000 of remaining salary. The +$25,000 <i>you</i> know to be utterly false. You can show this note to B. & +K., also the scraps sent. Let no one see them but themselves, and then +burn them. It is all just as I expected—that when the division took +place, a 'mountain would be made of a mole-hill.' And I fear it will +succeed in injuring the premeditated plans. If the <i>war rages</i>, the +<i>Evening News</i> might simply say that the sum assigned each was false, +that $75,000 was the sum the administrator, Judge Davis, filed his bonds +for. But by all means <i>my authority</i> must not be given. And then the +<i>Evening News</i> can descant on the $25,000 each, with income of $1,700 +each, and Mrs. Lincoln's share, she not being able to touch any of her +sons' portion. My <i>word</i> or <i>testimony</i> must not appear in the article; +only the paper must speak <i>decidedly</i>. It must be managed very +judiciously, and without a day's delay.</p> + +<p class="author">"Yours truly,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"Nov 17—(Private for yourself).</p> + +<p>"LIZZIE:—Show the note enclosed with this to B. & K.; do not let them +retain it an instant after reading, nor the printed articles. I knew +these falsehoods would be circulated when the estate was divided. What +<i>has</i> been the cause of the delay about the circulars? I fear, between +ourselves, we have reason to distrust those men,——. Whatever is raised +by the colored people, I solemnly give my word, at my death it shall +<i>all</i>, every cent, be returned to them. And out of the sum, if it is +$50,000, <i>you</i> shall have $5,000 at my death; and I cannot live long, +suffering as I am now doing. If $25,000 is raised by your people, you +shall have the sum at my death; and in either event, the $25,000 raised, +or $50,000, I will give you $300 a year, and the promised sum at my +death. It will make your life easier. I have more faith in F.D.'s and +G.'s efforts, than in B. & K., I assure you. This division has been +trumped up just now through spite. * * I have written to Judge Davis for +an exact statement,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> which I will send to you when received. Write if +any thing is doing. * * *</p> + +<p class="author">"Truly,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, November 21.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Your letter of Tuesday is just received. I have just +written B. a note of thanks for his kindness; also requesting the +articles of which I gave you a list. Do see Keyes about it; K. will have +it done. And will you <i>see</i> that they are forwarded to <i>me</i> before <i>you</i> +leave New York? K. sent me a telegram on yesterday that eight names were +on the circulars, and that they would be sent out <i>immediately</i>. What +success do you think they will have? By all means assure K. & B. I have +great confidence in them. These circulars must bring some money. Your +letter made me quite sad. Talk to K. & B. of the <i>grateful feelings</i> I +express towards them. Do pet up B., and see my things returned to me. +Can you not, dear Lizzie, be employed in sewing for some of your lady +friends in New York until December 1st? If I <i>ever</i> get any money you +will be well remembered, be assured. R. and a party of young men leave +for the Rocky Mountains next Monday, to be absent three weeks. If the +circulars are sent out, of course the <i>blasts</i> will be blown over again. +So R. is out of the way <i>at the time</i>, and money comes in, I will not +care. Write the hour you receive this. I hope they will send out 150,000 +circulars. Urge K. & B. to do this.</p> + +<p class="author">"Your friend,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"Saturday Morning, November 23d.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Although I am suffering with a fearful headache +to-day, yet, as your note of Wednesday is received, I must write. I am +grieved to find that you are so wretchedly low-spirited. * * * On +Wednesday, the 20th of November, K. sent me the telegram I send you. If +he is not in earnest, what does it mean? What is the rate of expenses +that B. has gone to in my business, that he dares to withhold my immense +amount of goods? Do you believe they <i>intend</i> sending out those +circulars?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> Of course you will be well rewarded if we have any success, +but as to $500 'now,' I have it not for myself, or any one else. Pray, +what does B. propose to charge for <i>his expenses</i>? I pray God there will +be some success, although, dear Lizzie, entirely between ourselves, I +fear I am in villanous hands. As to money, I haven't it for myself just +now, even if nothing comes in. When I get my things back, if ever, +from——, I will send you some of those dresses to dispose of at +Washington for your own benefit. If we get something, you will find that +<i>promises</i> and performance for <i>this</i> life will be forth-coming. * * * * +It is <i>mysterious</i> why B. NEVER writes, and K. <i>once</i>, perhaps, in three +weeks. All this is very strange. * *</p> + +<p class="author">"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Sunday, Nov. 24th.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—I wrote you on yesterday and am aware it was not a +pleasant letter, although I wrote what I fear will turn out to be +<i>truths</i>. It will be two weeks to-morrow since the legally attested +consent from me was received by B. and K., and yet <i>names</i> have not been +obtained for it, when last heard from. * * However, we will soon see for +ourselves. If you and I are honest in our motives and intentions, it is +no reason <i>all</i> the world is so. * * * If I should gain nothing +pecuniarily by the loud cry that has been made over my affairs, it has +been a losing game indeed. * * * * And the laugh of the world will be +against me if it turns out as I <i>now</i> think; there is no doubt it will +be <i>all</i> failure. If they had issued those circulars when they should +have done, before the election, then it would have been all right. Alas! +alas! what a mistake it has all been! I have thought seriously over the +whole business, and know what I am about. I am grateful for the sympathy +of Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet. I see that F. D. is advertised to +lecture in Chicago some time this winter. Tell him, for me, he must call +and see me; give him my number. If I had been able to retain a house, I +should have offered him apartments when he came to C.; as it is, I have +to content <i>myself</i> with lodgings. An ungrateful country this! I very +much fear the malignity of Seward, Weed, and R. will operate in Congress +the coming winter, and that I will be denounced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> <i>there</i>, with their +infamous and villanous falsehoods. The father of wickedness and lies +will get those men when they 'pass away;' and such fiends as they are, +always linger in this mortal sphere. The agitation of mind has very much +impaired my health. * * * * Why, why was not I taken when my darling +husband was called from my side? I have been allowed no rest by those +who, in my desolation, should have protected me. * * * * How dearly I +should love to see you <i>this very sad day</i>. Never, dear Lizzie, think of +my great nervousness the night before we parted; I had been so harassed +with my fears. * * * *</p> + +<p class="author">"Always yours,<br /> +"M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"December 26.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Your letters just received. I have just written to K. +to withdraw the C. Go to him yourself the moment you receive this. The +idea of Congress doing anything is ridiculous. How much —— could +effect <i>if he chose</i>, through others. Go to B. & K. the moment you +receive this.</p> + +<p class="author">"Yours,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, December 27.</p> + +<p>"DEAR LIZZIE:—I wrote you a few lines on yesterday. I have twice +written to Mr. K. to have the C. stopped. Go and see him on the subject. +I believe any more newspaper attacks would <i>lay me low</i> * * * As +<i>influence</i> has passed away from me with my husband, my slightest act is +misinterpreted. '<i>Time makes all things</i> right.' I am positively +suffering for a decent dress. I see Mr. A. and <i>some recent</i> visitors +eyeing my clothing askance. * * Do send my black merino dress to me very +soon; I must dress better in the future. I tremble at the bill that B. & +K. may send me, I am so illy prepared to meet any expense. All my +articles not sold must be sent to me. I leave <i>this</i> place <i>early</i> in +the spring; had you better not go with me and share my fortunes, for a +year or more? * * Write.</p> + +<p class="author">"Yours, etc.,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /> +</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CLIFTON HOUSE, January 12.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—Your last letter was received a day or two since. I +have moved my quarters to <i>this house</i>, so please direct all your +letters <i>here</i>. Why did <i>you</i> not urge them <i>not</i> to take my goods to +Providence? For heaven's sake see K. & B. when you receive this, and +have them immediately returned to me, <i>with their bill</i>. I am so +miserable I feel like taking my own life. My darling boy, my Taddie +<i>alone</i>, I <i>fully</i> believe, prevents the deed. Your letter announcing +that my clothes<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> were to be paraded in Europe—those I gave you—has +almost turned me wild. R. would go <i>raving distracted</i> if such a thing +was done. If you have the <i>least regard</i> for our reason, pray write to +the bishop that it <i>must</i> not be done. How little did I suppose you +would do <i>such a thing</i>; you cannot imagine how much my overwhelming +sorrows would be increased. May kind Heaven turn your heart, and have +you write that <i>this</i> exhibition must not be attempted. R. would blast +us all if you were to have this project carried out. Do remember <i>us</i> in +our unmitigated anguish, and have those clothes, worn on those fearful +occasions, recalled. * * I am positively dying with a broken heart, and +the probability is that I shall be living but a <i>very</i> short time. May +we all meet in a better world, where <i>such grief</i> is unknown. Write me +all about yourself. I should like you to have about four black widow's +caps, just such as I had made in the fall in New York, sent to me. * * * +Of course you would not suppose, if I had you come out here and work for +me six weeks, I would not pay your expenses and pay you as you made +<i>each</i> dress. The probability is that I shall need <i>few</i> more clothes; +my rest, I am inclined to believe, is <i>near at hand</i>. Go to B. & K., and +have my clothes sent me without further publicity. * * * I am feeling +too weak to write more to-day. Why are you so silent? For the sake of +<i>humanity</i>, if not <i>me</i> and my children, <i>do not</i> have those black +clothes displayed in Europe. The thought has alm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>ost whitened every hair +of my head. Write when you receive this.</p> + +<p class="author">"Your friend,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noindent"><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[Footnote C]</span></a> The clothes that I have given for the benefit of +Wilberforce College. They have been deeded to Bishop Payne, who will do with them as he thinks best, for the cause to +which they are dedicated. The letter on page 366 will explain more fully.</p></div> + + +<p class="indright">"NEW YORK CITY, Jan. 1st, 1868.</p> + +<p>"BISHOP PAYNE, D.D.—DEAR SIR:—Allow me to donate certain valuable +relics, to be exhibited for the benefit of Wilberforce University, where +my son was educated, and whose life was sacrificed for liberty. These +sacred relics were presented to me by Mrs. Lincoln, after the +assassination of our beloved President. Learning that you were +struggling to get means to complete the college that was burned on the +day our great emancipator was assassinated, prompted me to donate, in +trust to J. P. Ball (agent for Wilberforce College), the identical cloak +and bonnet worn by Mrs. Lincoln on that eventful night. On the cloak can +be seen the life-blood of Abraham Lincoln. This cloak could not be +purchased from me, though many have been the offers for it. I deemed it +too <i>sacred</i> to sell, but donate it for the cause of educating the four +millions of slaves liberated by our President, whose private character I +revere. You well know that I had every chance to learn the true man, +being constantly in the White House during his whole administration. I +also donate the glove<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> worn on his precious hand at the last inaugural +reception. This glove bears the marks of thousands who shook his hand on +that last and great occasion. This, and many other relics, I hope you +will receive in the name of the Lincoln fund. I also donate the dress +worn by Mrs. Lincoln at the last inaugural address of President Lincoln. +Please receive these from—</p> + +<p class="author">Your sister in Christ,<br /> +"L. KECKLEY."<br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<div class="footnote"><p class="noindent"><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[Footnote D]</span></a> I have since concluded to retain the glove as a +precious <i>souvenir</i> of our beloved President.<br /><br /></p></div> + + +<p class="indright">"CLIFTON HOUSE, Jan. 15, 1868.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR LIZZIE:—You will think I am sending you a deluge of letters. I +am so very sad today, that I feel that I must write you. I went out last +evening with Tad, on a little business, in a street car, heavily veiled, +very imprudently having <i>my month's living</i> in my pocket-book—and, on +return, found it gone. The loss I deserve for being so careless, but it +comes very hard on poor me. Troubles and misfortunes are fast +overwhelming me; may <i>the end</i> soon come. I lost $82, and quite a new +pocket-book. I am very, very anxious about that bill B. & K. may bring +in. Do go, dear Lizzie, and implore them to be moderate, for I am in a +very narrow place. Tell them, I pray you, of this last loss. As they +have not been successful (BETWEEN OURSELVES), and only given me great +sorrow and trouble, I think their demand should be very small. (Do not +mention this to them.) <i>Do</i>, dear Lizzie, go to 609, and talk to them on +this subject. Let my things be sent to me immediately, and <i>do</i> see to +it, that nothing is left behind. I can afford to lose nothing they have +had placed in their hands. I am literally suffering for my black dress. +Will you send it to me when you receive this? I am looking very shabby. +I hope you have entirely recovered. <i>Write</i> when you receive this.</p> + +<p class="author">"Very truly yours,<br /> +M. L."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"CHICAGO, Feb. 7.</p> + +<p>"MR. BRADY:—I hereby authorize Mrs. Keckley to request my bill from +you; also my goods. An exact account must be given of everything, and +all goods unsold returned to me. Pray hand Mrs. Keckley my bill, without +fail, immediately.</p> + +<p class="author">"Respectfully,<br /> +"MRS. LINCOLN."<br /><br /></p> + + +<p class="indright">"SATURDAY, Feb. 29.</p> + +<p>"DEAR LIZZIE:—I am only able to sit up long enough to write you a line +and enclose this check to Mr. K. Give it to him when he gives you up my +goods, and require from him an exact inventory of them. I will write you +to-morrow. The hour you re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>ceive this go to him, get my goods, and do +not <i>give him the check until</i> you get the goods, and be sure you get a +receipt for the check from him. * * In his account given ten days since, +he said we had borrowed $807; now he writes for $820. Ask him what this +means, and get him to deduct the $13. I cannot understand it. A letter +received from K. this morning says if the check is not received the +first of the week, my goods <i>will be sold</i> so do delay not an hour to +see him. * * My diamond ring he writes has been sold; the goods sold +have amounted to $824, and they appropriate all this for their expenses. +A precious set, truly. My diamond ring itself cost more than that sum, +and I charged them not to sell it under $700. Do get my things safely +returned to me. * * *</p> + +<p class="author">"Truly,<br /> +"M. L."<br /></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a></span></p> + + +<div class="trans_note"> +<p class="center"><big>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</big></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Behind the Scenes, by Elizabeth Keckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + +***** This file should be named 24968-h.htm or 24968-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/6/24968/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/24968-h/images/logo.jpg b/24968-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21775a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/24968-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/24968.txt b/24968.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d4badd --- /dev/null +++ b/24968.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6707 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Behind the Scenes, by Elizabeth Keckley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Behind the Scenes + or, Thirty years a slave, and Four Years in the White House + +Author: Elizabeth Keckley + +Release Date: March 31, 2008 [EBook #24968] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +ELIZABETH +KECKLEY + +Behind the Scenes, + +Or, +Thirty Years a Slave, +and Four Years in the White House + + + * * * * * + + +Contents + +BEHIND THE SCENES + +Preface 3 +Chapter I. Where I was born 7 +Chapter II. Girlhood and its Sorrows 13 +Chapter III. How I gained my Freedom 19 +Chapter IV. In the Family of Senator Jefferson Davis 28 +Chapter V. My Introduction to Mrs. Lincoln 34 +Chapter VI. Willie Lincoln's Death-bed 41 +Chapter VII. Washington in 1862-3 50 +Chapter VIII. Candid Opinions 57 +Chapter IX. Behind the Scenes 62 +Chapter X. The Second Inauguration 68 +Chapter XI. The Assassination of President Lincoln 77 +Chapter XII. Mrs. Lincoln leaves the White House 89 +Chapter XIII. The Origin of the Rivalry between + Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincol 101 +Chapter XIV. Old Friends 106 +Chapter XV. The Secret History of Mrs. Lincoln's + Wardrobe in New York 119 +Appendix--Letters from Mrs. Lincoln to Mrs. Keckley 147 + + + * * * * * + + +BEHIND THE SCENES. + +BY + +ELIZABETH KECKLEY, + +FORMERLY A SLAVE, BUT MORE RECENTLY MODISTE, +AND FRIEND TO MRS. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. + +OR, + +THIRTY YEARS A SLAVE, AND FOUR YEARS IN +THE WHITE HOUSE. + + +NEW YORK: +G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers. +M DCCC LXVIII. + + + * * * * * + + +PREFACE + + +I have often been asked to write my life, as those who know me know that +it has been an eventful one. At last I have acceded to the importunities +of my friends, and have hastily sketched some of the striking incidents +that go to make up my history. My life, so full of romance, may sound +like a dream to the matter-of-fact reader, nevertheless everything I +have written is strictly true; much has been omitted, but nothing has +been exaggerated. In writing as I have done, I am well aware that I have +invited criticism; but before the critic judges harshly, let my +explanation be carefully read and weighed. If I have portrayed the dark +side of slavery, I also have painted the bright side. The good that I +have said of human servitude should be thrown into the scales with the +evil that I have said of it. I have kind, true-hearted friends in the +South as well as in the North, and I would not wound those Southern +friends by sweeping condemnation, simply because I was once a slave. +They were not so much responsible for the curse under which I was born, +as the God of nature and the fathers who framed the Constitution for the +United States. The law descended to them, and it was but natural that +they should recognize it, since it manifestly was their interest to do +so. And yet a wrong was inflicted upon me; a cruel custom deprived me of +my liberty, and since I was robbed of my dearest right, I would not have +been human had I not rebelled against the robbery. God rules the +Universe. I was a feeble instrument in His hands, and through me and the +enslaved millions of my race, one of the problems was solved that +belongs to the great problem of human destiny; and the solution was +developed so gradually that there was no great convulsion of the +harmonies of natural laws. A solemn truth was thrown to the surface, and +what is better still, it was recognized as a truth by those who give +force to moral laws. An act may be wrong, but unless the ruling power +recognizes the wrong, it is useless to hope for a correction of it. +Principles may be right, but they are not established within an hour. +The masses are slow to reason, and each principle, to acquire moral +force, must come to us from the fire of the crucible; the fire may +inflict unjust punishment, but then it purifies and renders stronger the +principle, not in itself, but in the eyes of those who arrogate judgment +to themselves. When the war of the Revolution established the +independence of the American colonies, an evil was perpetuated, slavery +was more firmly established; and since the evil had been planted, it +must pass through certain stages before it could be eradicated. In fact, +we give but little thought to the plant of evil until it grows to such +monstrous proportions that it overshadows important interests; then the +efforts to destroy it become earnest. As one of the victims of slavery I +drank of the bitter water; but then, since destiny willed it so, and +since I aided in bringing a solemn truth to the surface _as a truth_, +perhaps I have no right to complain. Here, as in all things pertaining +to life, I can afford to be charitable. + +It may be charged that I have written too freely on some questions, +especially in regard to Mrs. Lincoln. I do not think so; at least I have +been prompted by the purest motive. Mrs. Lincoln, by her own acts, +forced herself into notoriety. She stepped beyond the formal lines which +hedge about a private life, and invited public criticism. The people +have judged her harshly, and no woman was ever more traduced in the +public prints of the country. The people knew nothing of the secret +history of her transactions, therefore they judged her by what was +thrown to the surface. For an act may be wrong judged purely by itself, +but when the motive that prompted the act is understood, it is construed +differently. I lay it down as an axiom, that only that is criminal in +the sight of God where crime is meditated. Mrs. Lincoln may have been +imprudent, but since her intentions were good, she should be judged more +kindly than she has been. But the world do not know what her intentions +were; they have only been made acquainted with her acts without knowing +what feeling guided her actions. If the world are to judge her as I have +judged her, they must be introduced to the secret history of her +transactions. The veil of mystery must be drawn aside; the origin of a +fact must be brought to light with the naked fact itself. If I have +betrayed confidence in anything I have published, it has been to place +Mrs. Lincoln in a better light before the world. A breach of trust--if +breach it can be called--of this kind is always excusable. My own +character, as well as the character of Mrs. Lincoln, is at stake, since +I have been intimately associated with that lady in the most eventful +periods of her life. I have been her confidante, and if evil charges are +laid at her door, they also must be laid at mine, since I have been a +party to all her movements. To defend myself I must defend the lady that +I have served. The world have judged Mrs. Lincoln by the facts which +float upon the surface, and through her have partially judged me, and +the only way to convince them that wrong was not meditated is to explain +the motives that actuated us. I have written nothing that can place Mrs. +Lincoln in a worse light before the world than the light in which she +now stands, therefore the secret history that I publish can do her no +harm. I have excluded everything of a personal character from her +letters; the extracts introduced only refer to public men, and are such +as to throw light upon her unfortunate adventure in New York. These +letters were not written for publication, for which reason they are all +the more valuable; they are the frank overflowings of the heart, the +outcropping of impulse, the key to genuine motives. They prove the +motive to have been pure, and if they shall help to stifle the voice of +calumny, I am content. I do not forget, before the public journals +vilified Mrs. Lincoln, that ladies who moved in the Washington circle in +which she moved, freely canvassed her character among themselves. They +gloated over many a tale of scandal that grew out of gossip in their own +circle. If these ladies, could say everything bad of the wife of the +President, why should I not be permitted to lay her secret history bare, +especially when that history plainly shows that her life, like all +lives, has its good side as well as its bad side! None of us are +perfect, for which reason we should heed the voice of charity when it +whispers in our ears, "Do not magnify the imperfections of others." Had +Mrs. Lincoln's acts never become public property, I should not have +published to the world the secret chapters of her life. I am not the +special champion of the widow of our lamented President; the reader of +the pages which follow will discover that I have written with the utmost +frankness in regard to her--have exposed her faults as well as given her +credit for honest motives. I wish the world to judge her as she is, free +from the exaggerations of praise or scandal, since I have been +associated with her in so many things that have provoked hostile +criticism; and the judgment that the world may pass upon her, I flatter +myself, will present my own actions in a better light. + + ELIZABETH KECKLEY. + 14 Carroll Place, New York, + March 14, 1868. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHERE I WAS BORN + + +My life has been an eventful one. I was born a slave--was the child of +slave parents--therefore I came upon the earth free in God-like thought, +but fettered in action. My birthplace was Dinwiddie Court-House, in +Virginia. My recollections of childhood are distinct, perhaps for the +reason that many stirring incidents are associated with that period. I +am now on the shady side of forty, and as I sit alone in my room the +brain is busy, and a rapidly moving panorama brings scene after scene +before me, some pleasant and others sad; and when I thus greet old +familiar faces, I often find myself wondering if I am not living the +past over again. The visions are so terribly distinct that I almost +imagine them to be real. Hour after hour I sit while the scenes are +being shifted; and as I gaze upon the panorama of the past, I realize +how crowded with incidents my life has been. Every day seems like a +romance within itself, and the years grow into ponderous volumes. As I +cannot condense, I must omit many strange passages in my history. From +such a wilderness of events it is difficult to make a selection, but as +I am not writing altogether the history of myself, I will confine my +story to the most important incidents which I believe influenced the +moulding of my character. As I glance over the crowded sea of the past, +these incidents stand forth prominently, the guide-posts of memory. I +presume that I must have been four years old when I first began to +remember; at least, I cannot now recall anything occurring previous to +this period. My master, Col. A. Burwell, was somewhat unsettled in his +business affairs, and while I was yet an infant he made several +removals. While living at Hampton Sidney College, Prince Edward County, +Va., Mrs. Burwell gave birth to a daughter, a sweet, black-eyed baby, +my earliest and fondest pet. To take care of this baby was my first +duty. True, I was but a child myself--only four years old--but then I +had been raised in a hardy school--had been taught to rely upon myself, +and to prepare myself to render assistance to others. The lesson was not +a bitter one, for I was too young to indulge in philosophy, and the +precepts that I then treasured and practised I believe developed those +principles of character which have enabled me to triumph over so many +difficulties. Notwithstanding all the wrongs that slavery heaped upon +me, I can bless it for one thing--youth's important lesson of +self-reliance. The baby was named Elizabeth, and it was pleasant to me +to be assigned a duty in connection with it, for the discharge of that +duty transferred me from the rude cabin to the household of my master. +My simple attire was a short dress and a little white apron. My old +mistress encouraged me in rocking the cradle, by telling me that if I +would watch over the baby well, keep the flies out of its face, and not +let it cry, I should be its little maid. This was a golden promise, and +I required no better inducement for the faithful performance of my task. +I began to rock the cradle most industriously, when lo! out pitched +little pet on the floor. I instantly cried out, "Oh! the baby is on the +floor;" and, not knowing what to do, I seized the fire-shovel in my +perplexity, and was trying to shovel up my tender charge, when my +mistress called to me to let the child alone, and then ordered that I be +taken out and lashed for my carelessness. The blows were not +administered with a light hand, I assure you, and doubtless the severity +of the lashing has made me remember the incident so well. This was the +first time I was punished in this cruel way, but not the last. The +black-eyed baby that I called my pet grew into a self-willed girl, and +in after years was the cause of much trouble to me. I grew strong and +healthy, and, notwithstanding I knit socks and attended to various kinds +of work, I was repeatedly told, when even fourteen years old, that I +would never be worth my salt. When I was eight, Mr. Burwell's family +consisted of six sons and four daughters, with a large family of +servants. My mother was kind and forbearing; Mrs. Burwell a hard +task-master; and as mother had so much work to do in making clothes, +etc., for the family, besides the slaves, I determined to render her all +the assistance in my power, and in rendering her such assistance my +young energies were taxed to the utmost. I was my mother's only child, +which made her love for me all the stronger. I did not know much of my +father, for he was the slave of another man, and when Mr. Burwell moved +from Dinwiddie he was separated from us, and only allowed to visit my +mother twice a year--during the Easter holidays and Christmas. At last +Mr. Burwell determined to reward my mother, by making an arrangement +with the owner of my father, by which the separation of my parents could +be brought to an end. It was a bright day, indeed, for my mother when it +was announced that my father was coming to live with us. The old weary +look faded from her face, and she worked as if her heart was in every +task. But the golden days did not last long. The radiant dream faded all +too soon. + +In the morning my father called me to him and kissed me, then held me +out at arms' length as if he were regarding his child with pride. "She +is growing into a large fine girl," he remarked to my mother. "I dun no +which I like best, you or Lizzie, as both are so dear to me." My +mother's name was Agnes, and my father delighted to call me his "Little +Lizzie." While yet my father and mother were speaking hopefully, +joyfully of the future, Mr. Burwell came to the cabin, with a letter in +his hand. He was a kind master in some things, and as gently as possible +informed my parents that they must part; for in two hours my father must +join his master at Dinwiddie, and go with him to the West, where he had +determined to make his future home. The announcement fell upon the +little circle in that rude-log cabin like a thunderbolt. I can remember +the scene as if it were but yesterday;--how my father cried out against +the cruel separation; his last kiss; his wild straining of my mother to +his bosom; the solemn prayer to Heaven; the tears and sobs--the fearful +anguish of broken hearts. The last kiss, the last good-by; and he, my +father, was gone, gone forever. The shadow eclipsed the sunshine, and +love brought despair. The parting was eternal. The cloud had no silver +lining, but I trust that it will be all silver in heaven. We who are +crushed to earth with heavy chains, who travel a weary, rugged, thorny +road, groping through midnight darkness on earth, earn our right to +enjoy the sunshine in the great hereafter. At the grave, at least, we +should be permitted to lay our burdens down, that a new world, a world +of brightness, may open to us. The light that is denied us here should +grow into a flood of effulgence beyond the dark, mysterious shadows of +death. Deep as was the distress of my mother in parting with my father, +her sorrow did not screen her from insult. My old mistress said to her: +"Stop your nonsense; there is no necessity for you putting on airs. Your +husband is not the only slave that has been sold from his family, and +you are not the only one that has had to part. There are plenty more men +about here, and if you want a husband so badly, stop your crying and go +and find another." To these unfeeling words my mother made no reply. She +turned away in stoical silence, with a curl of that loathing scorn upon +her lips which swelled in her heart. + +My father and mother never met again in this world. They kept up a +regular correspondence for years, and the most precious mementoes of my +existence are the faded old letters that he wrote, full of love, and +always hoping that the future would bring brighter days. In nearly every +letter is a message for me. "Tell my darling little Lizzie," he writes, +"to be a good girl, and to learn her book. Kiss her for me, and tell her +that I will come to see her some day." Thus he wrote time and again, but +he never came. He lived in hope, but died without ever seeing his wife +and child. + +I note a few extracts from one of my father's letters to my mother, +following copy literally: + + "SHELBYVILE, Sept. 6, 1833. + + "MRS. AGNES HOBBS + + "Dear Wife: My dear biloved wife I am more than glad to meet + with opportun[i]ty writee thes few lines to you by my + Mistress who ar now about starterng to virginia, and sevl + others of my old friends are with her; in compeney Mrs. Ann + Rus the wife of master Thos Rus and Dan Woodiard and his + family and I am very sorry that I havn the chance to go with + them as I feele Determid to see you If life last again. I am + now here and out at this pleace so I am not abble to get of + at this time. I am write well and hearty and all the rest of + masters family. I heard this eveng by Mistress that ar just + from theree all sends love to you and all my old frends. I am + a living in a town called Shelbyville and I have wrote a + greate many letters since Ive beene here and almost been + reeady to my selfe that its out of the question to write any + more at tall: my dear wife I dont feeld no whys like giving + out writing to you as yet and I hope when you get this letter + that you be Inncougege to write me a letter. I am well + satisfied at my living at this place I am a making money for + my own benifit and I hope that its to yours also If I live to + see Nexct year I shall heve my own time from master by giving + him 100 and twenty Dollars a year and I thinke I shall be + doing good bisness at that and heve something more thean all + that. I hope with gods helpe that I may be abble to rejoys + with you on the earth and In heaven lets meet when will I am + detemnid to nuver stope praying, not in this earth and I hope + to praise god In glory there weel meet to part no more + forever. So my dear wife I hope to meet you In paradase to + prase god forever * * * * * I want Elizabeth to be a good + girl and not to thinke that becasue I am bound so fare that + gods not abble to open the way * * * * + + "GEORGE PLEASANT, + "_Hobbs a servant of Grum_." + +The last letter that my mother received from my father was dated +Shelbyville, Tennessee, March 20, 1839. He writes in a cheerful strain, +and hopes to see her soon. Alas! he looked forward to a meeting in vain. +Year after year the one great hope swelled in his heart, but the hope +was only realized beyond the dark portals of the grave. + +When I was about seven years old I witnessed, for the first time, the +sale of a human being. We were living at Prince Edward, in Virginia, and +master had just purchased his hogs for the winter, for which he was +unable to pay in full. To escape from his embarrassment it was necessary +to sell one of the slaves. Little Joe, the son of the cook, was selected +as the victim. His mother was ordered to dress him up in his Sunday +clothes, and send him to the house. He came in with a bright face, was +placed in the scales, and was sold, like the hogs, at so much per pound. +His mother was kept in ignorance of the transaction, but her suspicions +were aroused. When her son started for Petersburgh in the wagon, the +truth began to dawn upon her mind, and she pleaded piteously that her +boy should not be taken from her; but master quieted her by telling her +that he was simply going to town with the wagon, and would be back in +the morning. Morning came, but little Joe did not return to his mother. +Morning after morning passed, and the mother went down to the grave +without ever seeing her child again. One day she was whipped for +grieving for her lost boy. Colonel Burwell never liked to see one of his +slaves wear a sorrowful face, and those who offended in this particular +way were always punished. Alas! the sunny face of the slave is not +always an indication of sunshine in the heart. Colonel Burwell at one +time owned about seventy slaves, all of which were sold, and in a +majority of instances wives were separated from husbands and children +from their parents. Slavery in the Border States forty years ago was +different from what it was twenty years ago. Time seemed to soften the +hearts of master and mistress, and to insure kinder and more humane +treatment to bondsmen and bondswomen. When I was quite a child, an +incident occurred which my mother afterward impressed more strongly on +my mind. One of my uncles, a slave of Colonel Burwell, lost a pair of +ploughlines, and when the loss was made known the master gave him a new +pair, and told him that if he did not take care of them he would punish +him severely. In a few weeks the second pair of lines was stolen, and my +uncle hung himself rather than meet the displeasure of his master. My +mother went to the spring in the morning for a pail of water, and on +looking up into the willow tree which shaded the bubbling crystal +stream, she discovered the lifeless form of her brother suspended +beneath one of the strong branches. Rather than be punished the way +Colonel Burwell punished his servants, he took his own life. Slavery had +its dark side as well as its bright side. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GIRLHOOD AND ITS SORROWS + + +I must pass rapidly over the stirring events of my early life. When I +was about fourteen years old I went to live with my master's eldest son, +a Presbyterian minister. His salary was small, and he was burdened with +a helpless wife, a girl that he had married in the humble walks of life. +She was morbidly sensitive, and imagined that I regarded her with +contemptuous feelings because she was of poor parentage. I was their +only servant, and a gracious loan at that. They were not able to buy me, +so my old master sought to render them assistance by allowing them the +benefit of my services. From the very first I did the work of three +servants, and yet I was scolded and regarded with distrust. The years +passed slowly, and I continued to serve them, and at the same time grew +into strong, healthy womanhood. I was nearly eighteen when we removed +from Virginia to Hillsboro', North Carolina, where young Mr. Burwell +took charge of a church. The salary was small, and we still had to +practise the closest economy. Mr. Bingham, a hard, cruel man, the +village schoolmaster, was a member of my young master's church, and he +was a frequent visitor to the parsonage. She whom I called mistress +seemed to be desirous to wreak vengeance on me for something, and +Bingham became her ready tool. During this time my master was unusually +kind to me; he was naturally a good-hearted man, but was influenced by +his wife. It was Saturday evening, and while I was bending over the bed, +watching the baby that I had just hushed into slumber, Mr. Bingham came +to the door and asked me to go with him to his study. Wondering what he +meant by his strange request, I followed him, and when we had entered +the study he closed the door, and in his blunt way remarked: "Lizzie, I +am going to flog you." I was thunderstruck, and tried to think if I had +been remiss in anything. I could not recollect of doing anything to +deserve punishment, and with surprise exclaimed: "Whip me, Mr. Bingham! +what for?" + +"No matter," he replied, "I am going to whip you, so take down your +dress this instant." + +Recollect, I was eighteen years of age, was a woman fully developed, and +yet this man coolly bade me take down my dress. I drew myself up +proudly, firmly, and said: "No, Mr. Bingham, I shall not take down my +dress before you. Moreover, you shall not whip me unless you prove the +stronger. Nobody has a right to whip me but my own master, and nobody +shall do so if I can prevent it." + +My words seemed to exasperate him. He seized a rope, caught me roughly, +and tried to tie me. I resisted with all my strength, but he was the +stronger of the two, and after a hard struggle succeeded in binding my +hands and tearing my dress from my back. Then he picked up a rawhide, +and began to ply it freely over my shoulders. With steady hand and +practised eye he would raise the instrument of torture, nerve himself +for a blow, and with fearful force the rawhide descended upon the +quivering flesh. It cut the skin, raised great welts, and the warm blood +trickled down my back. Oh God! I can feel the torture now--the terrible, +excruciating agony of those moments. I did not scream; I was too proud +to let my tormentor know what I was suffering. I closed my lips firmly, +that not even a groan might escape from them, and I stood like a statue +while the keen lash cut deep into my flesh. As soon as I was released, +stunned with pain, bruised and bleeding, I went home and rushed into the +presence of the pastor and his wife, wildly exclaiming: "Master Robert, +why did you let Mr. Bingham flog me? What have I done that I should be +so punished?" + +"Go away," he gruffly answered, "do not bother me." + +I would not be put off thus. "What _have_ I done? I _will_ know why I +have been flogged." + +I saw his cheeks flush with anger, but I did not move. He rose to his +feet, and on my refusing to go without an explanation, seized a chair, +struck me, and felled me to the floor. I rose, bewildered, almost dead +with pain, crept to my room, dressed my bruised arms and back as best I +could, and then lay down, but not to sleep. No, I could not sleep, for I +was suffering mental as well as bodily torture. My spirit rebelled +against the unjustness that had been inflicted upon me, and though I +tried to smother my anger and to forgive those who had been so cruel to +me, it was impossible. The next morning I was more calm, and I believe +that I could then have forgiven everything for the sake of one kind +word. But the kind word was not proffered, and it may be possible that I +grew somewhat wayward and sullen. Though I had faults, I know now, as I +felt then, harshness was the poorest inducement for the correction of +them. It seems that Mr. Bingham had pledged himself to Mrs. Burwell to +subdue what he called my "stubborn pride." On Friday following the +Saturday on which I was so savagely beaten, Mr. Bingham again directed +me come to his study. I went, but with the determination to offer +resistance should he attempt to flog me again. On entering the room I +found him prepared with a new rope and a new cowhide. I told him that I +was ready to die, but that he could not conquer me. In struggling with +him I bit his finger severely, when he seized a heavy stick and beat me +with it in a shameful manner. Again I went home sore and bleeding, but +with pride as strong and defiant as ever. The following Thursday Mr. +Bingham again tried to conquer me, but in vain. We struggled, and he +struck me many savage blows. As I stood bleeding before him, nearly +exhausted with his efforts, he burst into tears, and declared that it +would be a sin to beat me any more. My suffering at last subdued his +hard heart; he asked my forgiveness, and afterwards was an altered man. +He was never known to strike one of his servants from that day forward. +Mr. Burwell, he who preached the love of Heaven, who glorified the +precepts and examples of Christ, who expounded the Holy Scriptures +Sabbath after Sabbath from the pulpit, when Mr. Bingham refused to whip +me any more, was urged by his wife to punish me himself. One morning he +went to the wood-pile, took an oak broom, cut the handle off, and with +this heavy handle attempted to conquer me. I fought him, but he proved +the strongest. At the sight of my bleeding form, his wife fell upon her +knees and begged him to desist. My distress even touched her cold, +jealous heart. I was so badly bruised that I was unable to leave my bed +for five days. I will not dwell upon the bitter anguish of these hours, +for even the thought of them now makes me shudder. The Rev. Mr. Burwell +was not yet satisfied. He resolved to make another attempt to subdue my +proud, rebellious spirit--made the attempt and again failed, when he +told me, with an air of penitence, that he should never strike me +another blow; and faithfully he kept his word. These revolting scenes +created a great sensation at the time, were the talk of the town and +neighborhood, and I flatter myself that the actions of those who had +conspired against me were not viewed in a light to reflect much credit +upon them. + +The savage efforts to subdue my pride were not the only things that +brought me suffering and deep mortification during my residence at +Hillsboro'. I was regarded as fair-looking for one of my race, and for +four years a white man--I spare the world his name--had base designs +upon me. I do not care to dwell upon this subject, for it is one that is +fraught with pain. Suffice it to say, that he persecuted me for four +years, and I--I--became a mother. The child of which he was the father +was the only child that I ever brought into the world. If my poor boy +ever suffered any humiliating pangs on account of birth, he could not +blame his mother, for God knows that she did not wish to give him life; +he must blame the edicts of that society which deemed it no crime to +undermine the virtue of girls in my then position. + +Among the old letters preserved by my mother I find the following, +written by myself while at Hillsboro'. In this connection I desire to +state that Rev. Robert Burwell is now living[A] at Charlotte, North +Carolina:-- + + "HILLSBORO', April 10, 1838. + + "MY DEAR MOTHER:--I have been intending to write to you for a + long time, but numerous things have prevented, and for that + reason you must excuse me. + + "I thought very hard of you for not writing to me, but hope + that you will answer this letter as soon as you receive it, + and tell me how you like Marsfield, and if you have seen any + of old acquaintances, or if you yet know any of the + brick-house people who I think so much of. I want to hear of + the family at home very much, indeed. I really believe you + and all the family have forgotten me, if not I certainly + should have heard from some of you since you left Boyton, if + it was only a line; nevertheless I love you all very dearly, + and shall, although I may never see you again, nor do I ever + expect to. Miss Anna is going to Petersburgh next winter, but + she says that she does not intend take me; what reason she + has for leaving me I cannot tell. I have often wished that I + lived where I knew I never could see you, for then I would + not have my hopes raised, and to be disappointed in this + manner; however, it is said that a bad beginning makes a good + ending, but I hardly expect to see that happy day at this + place. Give my love to all the family, both white and black. + I was very much obliged to you for the presents you sent me + last summer, though it is quite late in the day to be + thanking for them. Tell Aunt Bella that I was very much + obliged to her for her present; I have been so particular + with it that I have only worn it once. + + "There have been six weddings since October; the most + respectable one was about a fortnight ago; I was asked to be + the first attendant, but, as usual with all my expectations, + I was disappointed, for on the wedding-day I felt more like + being locked up in a three-cornered box than attending a + wedding. About a week before Christmas I was bridesmaid for + Ann Nash; when the night came I was in quite a trouble; I did + not know whether my frock was clean or dirty; I only had a + week's notice, and the body and sleeves to make, and only one + hour every night to work on it, so you can see with these + troubles to overcome my chance was rather slim. I must now + close, although I could fill ten pages with my griefs and + misfortunes; no tongue could express them as I feel; don't + forget me though; and answer my letters soon. I will write + you again, and would write more now, but Miss Anna says it is + time I had finished. Tell Miss Elizabeth that I wish she + would make haste and get married, for mistress says that I + belong to her when she gets married. + + "I wish you would send me a pretty frock this summer; if you + will send it to Mrs. Robertson's Miss Bet will send it to me. + + "Farewell, darling mother. + + "Your affectionate daughter, + "ELIZABETH HOBBS." + +[Footnote A: March, 1868.] + + + + +CHAPTER III + +HOW I GAINED MY FREEDOM + + +The years passed and brought many changes to me, but on these I will not +dwell, as I wish to hasten to the most interesting part of my story. My +troubles in North Carolina were brought to an end by my unexpected +return to Virginia, where I lived with Mr. Garland, who had married Miss +Ann[e] Burwell, one of my old master's daughters. His life was not a +prosperous one, and after struggling with the world for several years he +left his native State, a disappointed man. He moved to St. Louis, hoping +to improve his fortune in the West; but ill luck followed him there, and +he seemed to be unable to escape from the influence of the evil star of +his destiny. When his family, myself included, joined him in his new +home on the banks of the Mississippi, we found him so poor that he was +unable to pay the dues on a letter advertised as in the post-office for +him. The necessities of the family were so great, that it was proposed +to place my mother out at service. The idea was shocking to me. Every +gray hair in her old head was dear to me, and I could not bear the +thought of her going to work for strangers. She had been raised in the +family, had watched the growth of each child from infancy to maturity; +they had been the objects of her kindest care, and she was wound round +about them as the vine winds itself about the rugged oak. They had been +the central figures in her dream of life--a dream beautiful to her, +since she had basked in the sunshine of no other. And now they proposed +to destroy each tendril of affection, to cloud the sunshine of her +existence when the day was drawing to a close, when the shadows of +solemn night were rapidly approaching. My mother, my poor aged mother, +go among strangers to toil for a living! No, a thousand times no! I +would rather work my fingers to the bone, bend over my sewing till the +film of blindness gathered in my eyes; nay, even beg from street to +street. I told Mr. Garland so, and he gave me permission to see what I +could do. I was fortunate in obtaining work, and in a short time I had +acquired something of a reputation as a seamstress and dress-maker. The +best ladies in St. Louis were my patrons, and when my reputation was +once established I never lacked for orders. With my needle I kept bread +in the mouths of seventeen persons for two years and five months. While +I was working so hard that others might live in comparative comfort, and +move in those circles of society to which their birth gave them +entrance, the thought often occurred to me whether I was really worth my +salt or not; and then perhaps the lips curled with a bitter sneer. It +may seem strange that I should place so much emphasis upon words +thoughtlessly, idly spoken; but then we do many strange things in life, +and cannot always explain the motives that actuate us. The heavy task +was too much for me, and my health began to give way. About this time +Mr. Keckley, whom I had met in Virginia, and learned to regard with more +than friendship, came to St. Louis. He sought my hand in marriage, and +for a long time I refused to consider his proposal; for I could not bear +the thought of bringing children into slavery--of adding one single +recruit to the millions bound to hopeless servitude, fettered and +shackled with chains stronger and heavier than manacles of iron. I made +a proposition to buy myself and son; the proposition was bluntly +declined, and I was commanded never to broach the subject again. I would +not be put off thus, for hope pointed to a freer, brighter life in the +future. Why should my son be held in slavery? I often asked myself. He +came into the world through no will of mine, and yet, God only knows how +I loved him. The Anglo-Saxon blood as well as the African flowed in his +veins; the two currents commingled--one singing of freedom, the other +silent and sullen with generations of despair. Why should not the +Anglo-Saxon triumph--why should it be weighed down with the rich blood +typical of the tropics? Must the life-current of one race bind the other +race in chains as strong and enduring as if there had been no +Anglo-Saxon taint? By the laws of God and nature, as interpreted by +man, one-half of my boy was free, and why should not this fair +birthright of freedom remove the curse from the other half--raise it +into the bright, joyous sunshine of liberty? I could not answer these +questions of my heart that almost maddened me, and I learned to regard +human philosophy with distrust. Much as I respected the authority of my +master, I could not remain silent on a subject that so nearly concerned +me. One day, when I insisted on knowing whether he would permit me to +purchase myself, and what price I must pay for myself, he turned to me +in a petulant manner, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a +bright silver quarter of a dollar, and proffering it to me, said: + +"Lizzie, I have told you often not to trouble me with such a question. +If you really wish to leave me, take this: it will pay the passage of +yourself and boy on the ferry-boat, and when you are on the other side +of the river you will be free. It is the cheapest way that I know of to +accomplish what you desire." + +I looked at him in astonishment, and earnestly replied: "No, master, I +do not wish to be free in such a manner. If such had been my wish, I +should never have troubled you about obtaining your consent to my +purchasing myself. I can cross the river any day, as you well know, and +have frequently done so, but will never leave you in such a manner. By +the laws of the land I am your slave--you are my master, and I will only +be free by such means as the laws of the country provide." He expected +this answer, and I knew that he was pleased. Some time afterwards he +told me that he had reconsidered the question; that I had served his +family faithfully; that I deserved my freedom, and that he would take +$1200 for myself and boy. + +This was joyful intelligence for me, and the reflection of hope gave a +silver lining to the dark cloud of my life--faint, it is true, but still +a silver lining. + +Taking a prospective glance at liberty, I consented to marry. The +wedding was a great event in the family. The ceremony took place in the +parlor, in the presence of the family and a number of guests. Mr. +Garland gave me away, and the pastor, Bishop Hawks, performed the +ceremony, who had solemnized the bridals of Mr. G.'s own children. The +day was a happy one, but it faded all too soon. Mr. Keckley--let me +speak kindly of his faults--proved dissipated, and a burden instead of a +help-mate. More than all, I learned that he was a slave instead of a +free man, as he represented himself to be. With the simple explanation +that I lived with him eight years, let charity draw around him the +mantle of silence. + +I went to work in earnest to purchase my freedom, but the years passed, +and I was still a slave. Mr. Garland's family claimed so much of my +attention--in fact, I supported them--that I was not able to accumulate +anything. In the mean time Mr. Garland died, and Mr. Burwell, a +Mississippi planter, came to St. Louis to settle up the estate. He was a +kind-hearted man, and said I should be free, and would afford me every +facility to raise the necessary amount to pay the price of my liberty. +Several schemes were urged upon me by my friends. At last I formed a +resolution to go to New York, state my case, and appeal to the +benevolence of the people. The plan seemed feasible, and I made +preparations to carry it out. When I was almost ready to turn my face +northward, Mrs. Garland told me that she would require the names of six +gentlemen who would vouch for my return, and become responsible for the +amount at which I was valued. I had many friends in St. Louis, and as I +believed that they had confidence in me, I felt that I could readily +obtain the names desired. I started out, stated my case, and obtained +five signatures to the paper, and my heart throbbed with pleasure, for I +did not believe that the sixth would refuse me. I called, he listened +patiently, then remarked: + +"Yes, yes, Lizzie; the scheme is a fair one, and you shall have my name. +But I shall bid you good-by when you start." + +"Good-by for a short time," I ventured to add. + +"No, good-by for all time," and he looked at me as if he would read my +very soul with his eyes. + +I was startled. "What do you mean, Mr. Farrow? Surely you do not think +that I do not mean to come back?" + +"No." + +"No, what then?" + +"Simply this: you _mean_ to come back, that is, you _mean_ so _now_, but +you never will. When you reach New York the abolitionists will tell you +what savages we are, and they will prevail on you to stay there; and we +shall never see you again." + +"But I assure you, Mr. Farrow, you are mistaken. I not only _mean_ to +come back, but _will_ come back, and pay every cent of the twelve +hundred dollars for myself and child." + +I was beginning to feel sick at heart, for I could not accept the +signature of this man when he had no faith in my pledges. No; slavery, +eternal slavery rather than be regarded with distrust by those whose +respect I esteemed. + +"But--I am not mistaken," he persisted. "Time will show. When you start +for the North I shall bid you good-by." + +The heart grew heavy. Every ray of sunshine was eclipsed. With humbled +pride, weary step, tearful face, and a dull, aching pain, I left the +house. I walked along the street mechanically. The cloud had no silver +lining now. The rosebuds of hope had withered and died without lifting +up their heads to receive the dew kiss of morning. There was no morning +for me--all was night, dark night. + +I reached my own home, and weeping threw myself upon the bed. My trunk +was packed, my luncheon was prepared by mother, the cars were ready to +bear me where I would not hear the clank of chains, where I would +breathe the free, invigorating breezes of the glorious North. I had +dreamed such a happy dream, in imagination had drunk of the water, the +pure, sweet crystal water of life, but now--now--the flowers had +withered before my eyes; darkness had settled down upon me like a pall, +and I was left alone with cruel mocking shadows. + +The first paroxysm of grief was scarcely over, when a carriage stopped +in front of the house; Mrs. Le Bourgois, one of my kind patrons, got out +of it and entered the door. She seemed to bring sunshine with her +handsome cheery face. She came to where I was, and in her sweet way +said: + +"Lizzie, I hear that you are going to New York to beg for money to buy +your freedom. I have been thinking over the matter, and told Ma it would +be a shame to allow you to go North to _beg_ for what we should _give_ +you. You have many friends in St. Louis, and I am going to raise the +twelve hundred dollars required among them. I have two hundred dollars +put away for a present; am indebted to you one hundred dollars; mother +owes you fifty dollars, and will add another fifty to it; and as I do +not want the present, I will make the money a present to you. Don't +start for New York now until I see what I can do among your friends." + +Like a ray of sunshine she came, and like a ray of sunshine she went +away. The flowers no longer were withered, drooping. Again they seemed +to bud and grow in fragrance and beauty. Mrs. Le Bourgois, God bless her +dear good heart, was more than successful. The twelve hundred dollars +were raised, and at last my son and myself were free. Free, free! what a +glorious ring to the word. Free! the bitter heart-struggle was over. +Free! the soul could go out to heaven and to God with no chains to clog +its flight or pull it down. Free! the earth wore a brighter look, and +the very stars seemed to sing with joy. Yes, free! free by the laws of +man and the smile of God--and Heaven bless them who made me so! + +The following, copied from the original papers, contain, in brief, the +history of my emancipation:-- + + + "I promise to give Lizzie and her son George their freedom, + on the payment of $1200. + + "ANNE P. GARLAND. + + + "June 27, 1855." + + "LIZZY:--I send you this note to sign for the sum of $75, and + when I give you the whole amount you will then sign the other + note for $100. + + "ELLEN M. DOAN. + + + "In the paper you will find $25; see it is all right before + the girl leaves." + + + "I have received of Lizzy Keckley $950, which I have + deposited with Darby & Barksdale for her--$600 on the 21st + July, $300 on the 27th and 28th of July, and $50 on 13th + August, 1855. + + "I have and shall make use of said money for Lizzy's benefit, + and hereby guarantee to her one per cent. per month--as much + more as can be made she shall have. The one per cent., as it + may be checked out, I will be responsible for myself, as well + as for the whole amount, when it shall be needed by her. + + "WILLIS L. WILLIAMS. + + + "ST. LOUIS, 13th August, 1855." + + "Know all men by these presents, that for and in + consideration of the love and affection we bear towards our + sister, Anne P. Garland, of St. Louis, Missouri, and for the + further consideration of $5 in hand paid, we hereby sell and + convey unto her, the said Anne P. Garland, a negro woman + named Lizzie, and a negro boy, her son, named George; said + Lizzie now resides at St. Louis, and is a seamstress, known + there as Lizzie Garland, the wife of a yellow man named + James, and called James Keckley; said George is a bright + mulatto boy, and is known in St. Louis as Garland's George. + We warrant these two slaves to be slaves for life, but make + no representations as to age or health. + + "Witness our hands and seals, this 10th day of August, 1855. + + "JAS. R. PUTNAM, [L.S.] + "E. M. PUTNAM, [L.S.] + "A. BURWELL, [L.S.]" + + + "THE STATE OF MISSISSIPPI, WARREN COUNTY, + CITY OF VICKSBURG. } _SS._ + + "Be it remembered, that on the tenth day of August, in the + year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five, + before me, Francis N. Steele, a Commissioner, resident in the + city of Vicksburg, duly commissioned and qualified by the + executive authority, and under the laws of the State of + Missouri, to take the acknowledgment of deeds, etc., to be + used or recorded therein, personally appeared James R. Putnam + and E. M. Putnam, his wife, and Armistead Burwell, to me + known to be the individuals named in, and who executed the + foregoing conveyance, and acknowledged that they executed the + same for the purposes therein mentioned; and the E. M. Putnam + being by me examined apart from her husband, and being fully + acquainted with the contents of the foregoing conveyance, + acknowledged that she executed the same freely, and + relinquished her dower, and any other claim she might have in + and to the property therein mentioned, freely, and without + fear, compulsion, or undue influence of her said husband. + + "In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed + my official seal, this 10th day of August, A.D. 1855. + + [L.S.] "F. N. STEELE, + "_Commissioner for Missouri_." + + + "Know all men that I, Anne P. Garland, of the County and City + of St. Louis, State of Missouri, for and in consideration of + the sum of $1200, to me in hand paid this day in cash, hereby + emancipate my negro woman Lizzie, and her son George; the + said Lizzie is known in St. Louis as the wife of James, who + is called James Keckley; is of light complexion, about 37 + years of age, by trade a dress-maker, and called by those who + know her Garland's Lizzie. The said boy, George, is the only + child of Lizzie, is about 16 years of age, and is almost + white, and called by those who know him Garland's George. + + "Witness my hand and seal, this 13th day of November, 1855. + + "ANNE P. GARLAND, [L.S.] + "Witness:--JOHN WICKHAM, + "WILLIS L. WILLIAMS." + + + _In St. Louis Circuit Court, October Term, 1855. November 15, + 1855._ "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "Be it remembered, that on this fifteenth day of November, + eighteen hundred and fifty-five, in open court came John + Wickham and Willis L. Williams, these two subscribing + witnesses, examined under oath to that effect, proved the + execution and acknowledgment of said deed by Anne P. Garland + to Lizzie and her son George, which said proof of + acknowledgment is entered on the record of the court of that + day. + + "In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal + of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, the day + and year last aforesaid. + + [L.S.] "WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_." + + + "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "I, Wm. J. Hammond, Clerk of the Circuit Court within and for + the county aforesaid, certify the foregoing to be a true copy + of a deed of emancipation from Anne P. Garland to Lizzie and + her son George, as fully as the same remain in my office. + + "In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal + of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, this + fifteenth day of November, 1855. + + "WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_. + "By WM. A. PENNINGTON, D.C." + + + "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._ + + "I, the undersigned Recorder of said county, certify that the + foregoing instrument of writing was filed for record in my + office on the 14th day of November, 1855; it is truly + recorded in Book No. 169, page 288. + + "Witness my hand and official seal, date last aforesaid. + + [L.S.] "C. KEEMLE, _Recorder_." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +IN THE FAMILY OF SENATOR JEFFERSON DAVIS + + +The twelve hundred dollars with which I purchased the freedom of myself +and son I consented to accept only as a loan. I went to work in earnest, +and in a short time paid every cent that was so kindly advanced by my +lady patrons of St. Louis. All this time my husband was a source of +trouble to me, and a burden. Too close occupation with my needle had its +effects upon my health, and feeling exhausted with work, I determined to +make a change. I had a conversation with Mr. Keckley; informed him that +since he persisted in dissipation we must separate; that I was going +North, and that I should never live with him again, at least until I had +good evidence of his reform. He was rapidly debasing himself, and +although I was willing to work for him, I was not willing to share his +degradation. Poor man; he had his faults, but over these faults death +has drawn a veil. My husband is now sleeping in his grave, and in the +silent grave I would bury all unpleasant memories of him. + +I left St. Louis in the spring of 1860, taking the cars direct for +Baltimore, where I stopped six weeks, attempting to realize a sum of +money by forming classes of young colored women, and teaching them my +system of cutting and fitting dresses. The scheme was not successful, +for after six weeks of labor and vexation, I left Baltimore with +scarcely money enough to pay my fare to Washington. Arriving in the +capital, I sought and obtained work at two dollars and a half per day. +However, as I was notified that I could only remain in the city ten days +without obtaining a license to do so, such being the law, and as I did +not know whom to apply to for assistance, I was sorely troubled. I also +had to have some one vouch to the authorities that I was a free woman. +My means were too scanty, and my profession too precarious to warrant my +purchasing [a] license. In my perplexity I called on a lady for whom I +was sewing, Miss Ringold, a member of Gen. Mason's family, from +Virginia. I stated my case, and she kindly volunteered to render me all +the assistance in her power. She called on Mayor Burritt with me, and +Miss Ringold succeeded in making an arrangement for me to remain in +Washington without paying the sum required for a license; moreover, I +was not to be molested. I rented apartments in a good locality, and soon +had a good run of custom. The summer passed, winter came, and I was +still in Washington. Mrs. Davis, wife of Senator Jefferson Davis, came +from the South in November of 1860, with her husband. Learning that Mrs. +Davis wanted a modiste, I presented myself, and was employed by her on +the recommendation of one of my patrons and her intimate friend, Mrs. +Captain Hetsill. I went to the house to work, but finding that they were +such late risers, and as I had to fit many dresses on Mrs. Davis, I told +her that I should prefer giving half the day to her, working the other +in my own room for some of my other lady patrons. Mrs. D. consented to +the proposition, and it was arranged that I should come to her own house +every day after 12 M. It was the winter before the breaking out of that +fierce and bloody war between the two sections of the country; and as +Mr. Davis occupied a leading position, his house was the resort of +politicians and statesmen from the South. Almost every night, as I +learned from the servants and other members of the family, secret +meetings were held at the house; and some of these meetings were +protracted to a very late hour. The prospects of war were freely +discussed in my presence by Mr. and Mrs. Davis and their friends. The +holidays were approaching, and Mrs. Davis kept me busy in manufacturing +articles of dress for herself and children. She desired to present Mr. +Davis on Christmas with a handsome dressing-gown. The material was +purchased, and for weeks the work had been under way. Christmas eve +came, and the gown had been laid aside so often that it was still +unfinished. I saw that Mrs. D. was anxious to have it completed, so I +volunteered to remain and work on it. Wearily the hours dragged on, but +there was no rest for my busy fingers. I persevered in my task, +notwithstanding my head was aching. Mrs. Davis was busy in the adjoining +room, arranging the Christmas tree for the children. I looked at the +clock, and the hands pointed to a quarter of twelve. I was arranging the +cords on the gown when the Senator came in; he looked somewhat careworn, +and his step seemed to be a little nervous. He leaned against the door, +and expressed his admiration of the Christmas tree, but there was no +smile on his face. Turning round, he saw me sitting in the adjoining +room, and quickly exclaimed: + +"That you, Lizzie! why are you here so late? Still at work; I hope that +Mrs. Davis is not too exacting!" + +"No, sir," I answered. "Mrs. Davis was very anxious to have this gown +finished to-night, and I volunteered to remain and complete it." + +"Well, well, the case must be urgent," and he came slowly towards me, +took the gown in his hand, and asked the color of the silk, as he said +the gas-light was so deceptive to his old eyes. + +"It is a drab changeable silk, Mr. Davis," I answered; and might have +added that it was rich and handsome, but did not, well knowing that he +would make the discovery in the morning. + +He smiled curiously, but turned and walked from the room without another +question. He inferred that the gown was for him, that it was to be the +Christmas present from his wife, and he did not wish to destroy the +pleasure that she would experience in believing that the gift would +prove a surprise. In this respect, as in many others, he always appeared +to me as a thoughtful, considerate man in the domestic circle. As the +clock struck twelve I finished the gown, little dreaming of the future +that was before it. It was worn, I have not the shadow of a doubt, by +Mr. Davis during the stormy years that he was the President of the +Confederate States. + +The holidays passed, and before the close of January the war was +discussed in Mr. Davis's family as an event certain to happen in the +future. Mrs. Davis was warmly attached to Washington, and I often heard +her say that she disliked the idea of breaking up old associations, and +going South to suffer from trouble and deprivation. One day, while +discussing the question in my presence with one of her intimate +friends, she exclaimed: "I would rather remain in Washington and be +kicked about, than go South and be Mrs. President." Her friend expressed +surprise at the remark, and Mrs. Davis insisted that the opinion was an +honest one. + +While dressing her one day, she said to me: "Lizzie, you are so very +handy that I should like to take you South with me." + +"When do you go South, Mrs. Davis?" I inquired. + +"Oh, I cannot tell just now, but it will be soon. You know there is +going to be war, Lizzie?" + +"No!" + +"But I tell you yes." + +"Who will go to war?" I asked. + +"The North and South," was her ready reply. "The Southern people will +not submit to the humiliating demands of the Abolition party; they will +fight first." + +"And which do you think will whip?" + +"The South, of course. The South is impulsive, is in earnest, and the +Southern soldiers will fight to conquer. The North will yield, when it +sees the South is in earnest, rather than engage in a long and bloody +war." + +"But, Mrs. Davis, are you certain that there will be war?" + +"Certain!--I know it. You had better go South with me; I will take good +care of you. Besides, when the war breaks out, the colored people will +suffer in the North. The Northern people will look upon them as the +cause of the war, and I fear, in their exasperation, will be inclined to +treat you harshly. Then, I may come back to Washington in a few months, +and live in the White House. The Southern people talk of choosing Mr. +Davis for their President. In fact, it may be considered settled that he +will be their President. As soon as we go South and secede from the +other States, we will raise an army and march on Washington, and then I +shall live in the White House." + +I was bewildered with what I heard. I had served Mrs. Davis faithfully, +and she had learned to place the greatest confidence in me. At first I +was almost tempted to go South with her, for her reasoning seemed +plausible. At the time the conversation was closed, with my promise to +consider the question. + +I thought over the question much, and the more I thought the less +inclined I felt to accept the proposition so kindly made by Mrs. Davis. +I knew the North to be strong, and believed that the people would fight +for the flag that they pretended to venerate so highly. The Republican +party had just emerged from a heated campaign, flushed with victory, and +I could not think that the hosts composing the party would quietly yield +all they had gained in the Presidential canvass. A show of war from the +South, I felt, would lead to actual war in the North; and with the two +sections bitterly arrayed against each other, I preferred to cast my lot +among the people of the North. + +I parted with Mrs. Davis kindly, half promising to join her in the South +if further deliberation should induce me to change my views. A few weeks +before she left Washington I made two chintz wrappers for her. She said +that she must give up expensive dressing for a while; and that she, with +the Southern people, now that war was imminent, must learn to practise +lessons of economy. She left some fine needle-work in my hands, which I +finished, and forwarded to her at Montgomery, Alabama, in the month of +June, through the assistance of Mrs. Emory, one of her oldest and best +friends. + +Since bidding them good-by at Washington, early in the year 1860, I have +never met any of the Davis family. Years of excitement, years of +bloodshed, and hundreds of thousands of graves intervene between the +months I spent in the family and now. The years have brought many +changes; and in view of these terrible changes even I, who was once a +slave, who have been punished with the cruel lash, who have experienced +the heart and soul tortures of a slave's life, can say to Mr. Jefferson +Davis, "Peace! you have suffered! Go in peace." + +In the winter of 1865 I was in Chicago, and one day visited the great +charity fair held for the benefit of the families of those soldiers who +were killed or wounded during the war. In one part of the building was a +wax figure of Jefferson Davis, wearing over his other garments the dress +in which it was reported that he was captured. There was always a great +crowd around this figure, and I was naturally attracted towards it. I +worked my way to the figure, and in examining the dress made the +pleasing discovery that it was one of the chintz wrappers that I had +made for Mrs. Davis, a short time before she departed from Washington +for the South. When it was announced that I recognized the dress as one +that I had made for the wife of the late Confederate President there was +great cheering and excitement, and I at once became the object of the +deepest curiosity. Great crowds followed me, and in order to escape from +the embarrassing situation I left the building. + +I believe it now is pretty well established that Mr. Davis had on a +water-proof cloak instead of a dress, as first reported, when he was +captured. This does not invalidate any portion of my story. The dress on +the wax figure at the fair in Chicago unquestionably was one of the +chintz wrappers that I made for Mrs. Davis in January, 1860, in +Washington; and I infer, since it was not found on the body of the +fugitive President of the South, it was taken from the trunks of Mrs. +Davis, captured at the same time. Be this as it may, the coincidence is +none the less striking and curious. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MY INTRODUCTION TO MRS. LINCOLN + + +Ever since arriving in Washington I had a great desire to work for the +ladies of the White House, and to accomplish this end I was ready to +make almost any sacrifice consistent with propriety. Work came in +slowly, and I was beginning to feel very much embarrassed, for I did not +know how I was to meet the bills staring me in the face. It is true, the +bills were small, but then they were formidable to me, who had little or +nothing to pay them with. While in this situation I called at the +Ringolds, where I met Mrs. Captain Lee. Mrs. L. was in a state bordering +on excitement, as the great event of the season, the dinner-party given +in honor of the Prince of Wales, was soon to come off, and she must have +a dress suitable for the occasion. The silk had been purchased, but a +dress-maker had not yet been found. Miss Ringold recommended me, and I +received the order to make the dress. When I called on Mrs. Lee the next +day, her husband was in the room, and handing me a roll of bank bills, +amounting to one hundred dollars, he requested me to purchase the +trimmings, and to spare no expense in making a selection. With the money +in my pocket I went out in the street, entered the store of Harper & +Mitchell, and asked to look at their laces. Mr. Harper waited on me +himself, and was polite and kind. When I asked permission to carry the +laces to Mrs. Lee, in order to learn whether she could approve my +selection or not, he gave a ready assent. When I reminded him that I was +a stranger, and that the goods were valuable, he remarked that he was +not afraid to trust me--that he believed my face was the index to an +honest heart. It was pleasant to be spoken to thus, and I shall never +forget the kind words of Mr. Harper. I often recall them, for they are +associated with the dawn of a brighter period in my dark life. I +purchased the trimmings, and Mr. Harper allowed me a commission of +twenty-five dollars on the purchase. The dress was done in time, and it +gave complete satisfaction. Mrs. Lee attracted great attention at the +dinner-party, and her elegant dress proved a good card for me. I +received numerous orders, and was relieved from all pecuniary +embarrassments. One of my patrons was Mrs. Gen. McClean, a daughter of +Gen. Sumner. One day when I was very busy, Mrs. McC. drove up to my +apartments, came in where I was engaged with my needle, and in her +emphatic way said: + +"Lizzie, I am invited to dine at Willard's on next Sunday, and +positively I have not a dress fit to wear on the occasion. I have just +purchased material, and you must commence work on it right away." + +"But Mrs. McClean," I replied, "I have more work now promised than I can +do. It is impossible for me to make a dress for you to wear on Sunday +next." + +"Pshaw! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday;" +and she spoke with some impatience. + +"I am sorry," I began, but she interrupted me. + +"Now don't say no again. I tell you that you must make the dress. I have +often heard you say that you would like to work for the ladies of the +White House. Well, I have it in my power to obtain you this privilege. I +know Mrs. Lincoln well, and you shall make a dress for her provided you +finish mine in time to wear at dinner on Sunday." + +The inducement was the best that could have been offered. I would +undertake the dress if I should have to sit up all night--every night, +to make my pledge good. I sent out and employed assistants, and, after +much worry and trouble, the dress was completed to the satisfaction of +Mrs. McClean. It appears that Mrs. Lincoln had upset a cup of coffee on +the dress she designed wearing on the evening of the reception after the +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, which +rendered it necessary that she should have a new one for the occasion. +On asking Mrs. McClean who her dress-maker was, that lady promptly +informed her, + +"Lizzie Keckley." + +"Lizzie Keckley? The name is familiar to me. She used to work for some +of my lady friends in St. Louis, and they spoke well of her. Can you +recommend her to me?" + +"With confidence. Shall I send her to you?" + +"If you please. I shall feel under many obligations for your kindness." + +The next Sunday Mrs. McClean sent me a message to call at her house at +four o'clock P.M., that day. As she did not state why I was to call, I +determined to wait till Monday morning. Monday morning came, and nine +o'clock found me at Mrs. McC.'s house. The streets of the capital were +thronged with people, for this was Inauguration day. A new President, a +man of the people from the broad prairies of the West, was to accept the +solemn oath of office, was to assume the responsibilities attached to +the high position of Chief Magistrate of the United States. Never was +such deep interest felt in the inauguration proceedings as was felt +today; for threats of assassination had been made, and every breeze from +the South came heavily laden with the rumors of war. Around Willard's +hotel swayed an excited crowd, and it was with the utmost difficulty +that I worked my way to the house on the opposite side of the street, +occupied by the McCleans. Mrs. McClean was out, but presently an aide on +General McClean's staff called, and informed me that I was wanted at +Willard's. I crossed the street, and on entering the hotel was met by +Mrs. McClean, who greeted me: + +"Lizzie, why did you not come yesterday, as I requested? Mrs. Lincoln +wanted to see you, but I fear that now you are too late." + +"I am sorry, Mrs. McClean. You did not say what you wanted with me +yesterday, so I judged that this morning would do as well." + +"You should have come yesterday," she insisted. "Go up to Mrs. Lincoln's +room"--giving me the number--"she may find use for you yet." + +With a nervous step I passed on, and knocked at Mrs. Lincoln's door. A +cheery voice bade me come in, and a lady, inclined to stoutness, about +forty years of age, stood before me. + +"You are Lizzie Keckley, I believe." + +I bowed assent. + +"The dress-maker that Mrs. McClean recommended?" + +"Yes, madam." + +"Very well; I have not time to talk to you now, but would like to have +you call at the White House, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, where I +shall then be." + +I bowed myself out of the room, and returned to my apartments. The day +passed slowly, for I could not help but speculate in relation to the +appointed interview for the morrow. My long-cherished hope was about to +be realized, and I could not rest. + +Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, I crossed the threshold of the White +House for the first time. I was shown into a waiting-room, and informed +that Mrs. Lincoln was at breakfast. In the waiting-room I found no less +than three mantua-makers waiting for an interview with the wife of the +new President. It seems that Mrs. Lincoln had told several of her lady +friends that she had urgent need for a dress-maker, and that each of +these friends had sent her mantua-maker to the White House. Hope fell at +once. With so many rivals for the position sought after, I regarded my +chances for success as extremely doubtful. I was the last one summoned +to Mrs. Lincoln's presence. All the others had a hearing, and were +dismissed. I went up-stairs timidly, and entering the room with nervous +step, discovered the wife of the President standing by a window, looking +out, and engaged in lively conversation with a lady, Mrs. Grimsly, as I +afterwards learned. Mrs. L. came forward, and greeted me warmly. + +"You have come at last. Mrs. Keckley, who have you worked for in the +city?" + +"Among others, Mrs. Senator Davis has been one of my best patrons," was +my reply. + +"Mrs. Davis! So you have worked for her, have you? Of course you gave +satisfaction; so far, good. Can you do my work?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have much work for me to do?" + +"That, Mrs. Keckley, will depend altogether upon your prices. I trust +that your terms are reasonable. I cannot afford to be extravagant. We +are just from the West, and are poor. If you do not charge too much, I +shall be able to give you all my work." + +"I do not think there will be any difficulty about charges, Mrs. +Lincoln; my terms are reasonable." + +"Well, if you will work cheap, you shall have plenty to do. I can't +afford to pay big prices, so I frankly tell you so in the beginning." + +The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and I measured Mrs. Lincoln, +took the dress with me, a bright rose-colored moire-antique, and +returned the next day to fit it on her. A number of ladies were in the +room, all making preparations for the levee to come off on Friday night. +These ladies, I learned, were relatives of Mrs. L.'s,--Mrs. Edwards and +Mrs. Kellogg, her own sisters, and Elizabeth Edwards and Julia Baker, +her nieces. Mrs. Lincoln this morning was dressed in a cashmere wrapper, +quilted down the front; and she wore a simple head-dress. The other +ladies wore morning robes. + +I was hard at work on the dress, when I was informed that the levee had +been postponed from Friday night till Tuesday night. This, of course, +gave me more time to complete my task. Mrs. Lincoln sent for me, and +suggested some alteration in style, which was made. She also requested +that I make a waist of blue watered silk for Mrs. Grimsly, as work on +the dress would not require all my time. + +Tuesday evening came, and I had taken the last stitches on the dress. I +folded it and carried it to the White House, with the waist for Mrs. +Grimsly. When I went up-stairs, I found the ladies in a terrible state +of excitement. Mrs. Lincoln was protesting that she could not go down, +for the reason that she had nothing to wear. + +"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me--deceived me. Why do you bring +my dress at this late hour?" + +"Because I have just finished it, and I thought I should be in time." + +"But you are not in time, Mrs. Keckley; you have bitterly disappointed +me. I have no time now to dress, and, what is more, I will not dress, +and go down-stairs." + +"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Mrs. Lincoln, for I intended to +be in time. Will you let me dress you? I can have you ready in a few +minutes." + +"No, I won't be dressed. I will stay in my room. Mr. Lincoln can go down +with the other ladies." + +"But there is plenty of time for you to dress, Mary," joined in Mrs. +Grimsly and Mrs. Edwards. "Let Mrs. Keckley assist you, and she will +soon have you ready." + +Thus urged, she consented. I dressed her hair, and arranged the dress on +her. It fitted nicely, and she was pleased. Mr. Lincoln came in, threw +himself on the sofa, laughed with Willie and little Tad, and then +commenced pulling on his gloves, quoting poetry all the while. + +"You seem to be in a poetical mood to-night," said his wife. + +"Yes, mother, these are poetical times," was his pleasant reply. "I +declare, you look charming in that dress. Mrs. Keckley has met with +great success." And then he proceeded to compliment the other ladies. + +Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moire-antique. She wore +a pearl necklace, pearl ear-rings, pearl bracelets, and red roses in her +hair. Mrs. Baker was dressed in lemon-colored silk; Mrs. Kellogg in a +drab silk, ashes of rose; Mrs. Edwards in a brown and black silk; Miss +Edwards in crimson, and Mrs. Grimsly in blue watered silk. Just before +starting downstairs, Mrs. Lincoln's lace handkerchief was the object of +search. It had been displaced by Tad, who was mischievous, and hard to +restrain. The handkerchief found, all became serene. Mrs. Lincoln took +the President's arm, and with smiling face led the train below. I was +surprised at her grace and composure. I had heard so much, in current +and malicious report, of her low life, of her ignorance and vulgarity, +that I expected to see her embarrassed on this occasion. Report, I soon +saw, was wrong. No queen, accustomed to the usages of royalty all her +life, could have comported herself with more calmness and dignity than +did the wife of the President. She was confident and self-possessed, and +confidence always gives grace. + +This levee was a brilliant one, and the only one of the season. I became +the regular modiste of Mrs. Lincoln. I made fifteen or sixteen dresses +for her during the spring and early part of the summer, when she left +Washington; spending the hot weather at Saratoga, Long Branch, and other +places. In the mean time I was employed by Mrs. Senator Douglas, one of +the loveliest ladies that I ever met, Mrs. Secretary Wells, Mrs. +Secretary Stanton, and others. Mrs. Douglas always dressed in deep +mourning, with excellent taste, and several of the leading ladies of +Washington society were extremely jealous of her superior attractions. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WILLIE LINCOLN'S DEATH-BED + + +Mrs. Lincoln returned to Washington in November, and again duty called +me to the White House. The war was now in progress, and every day +brought stirring news from the front--the front, where the Gray opposed +the Blue, where flashed the bright sabre in the sunshine, where were +heard the angry notes of battle, the deep roar of cannon, and the +fearful rattle of musketry; where new graves were being made every day, +where brother forgot a mother's early blessing and sought the lifeblood +of brother, and friend raised the deadly knife against friend. Oh, the +front, with its stirring battle-scenes! Oh, the front, with its ghastly +heaps of dead! The life of the nation was at stake; and when the land +was full of sorrow, there could not be much gayety at the capital. The +days passed quietly with me. I soon learned that some people had an +intense desire to penetrate the inner circle of the White House. No +President and his family, heretofore occupying this mansion, ever +excited so much curiosity as the present incumbents. Mr. Lincoln had +grown up in the wilds of the West, and evil report had said much of him +and his wife. The polite world was shocked, and the tendency to +exaggerate intensified curiosity. As soon as it was known that I was the +modiste of Mrs. Lincoln, parties crowded around and affected friendship +for me, hoping to induce me to betray the secrets of the domestic +circle. One day a woman, I will not call her a lady, drove up to my +rooms, gave me an order to make a dress, and insisted on partly paying +me in advance. She called on me every day, and was exceedingly kind. +When she came to take her dress away, she cautiously remarked: + +"Mrs. Keckley, you know Mrs. Lincoln?" + +"Yes." + +"You are her modiste; are you not?" + +"Yes." + +"You know her very well; do you not?" + +"I am with her every day or two." + +"Don't you think you would have some influence with her?" + +"I cannot say. Mrs. Lincoln, I presume, would listen to anything I +should suggest, but whether she would be influenced by a suggestion of +mine is another question." + +"I am sure that you could influence her, Mrs. Keckley. Now listen; I +have a proposition to make. I have a great desire to become an inmate of +the White House. I have heard so much of Mr. Lincoln's goodness that I +should like to be near him; and if I can enter the White House no other +way, I am willing to go as a menial. My dear Mrs. Keckley, will you not +recommend me to Mrs. Lincoln as a friend of yours out of employment, and +ask her to take me as a chambermaid? If you will do this you shall be +well rewarded. It may be worth several thousand dollars to you in time." + +I looked at the woman in amazement. A bribe, and to betray the +confidence of my employer! Turning to her with a glance of scorn, I +said: + +"Madam, you are mistaken in regard to my character. Sooner than betray +the trust of a friend, I would throw myself into the Potomac river. I am +not so base as that. Pardon me, but there is the door, and I trust that +you will never enter my room again." + +She sprang to her feet in deep confusion, and passed through the door, +murmuring: "Very well; you will live to regret your action today." + +"Never, never!" I exclaimed, and closed the door after her with a bang. +I afterwards learned that this woman was an actress, and that her object +was to enter the White House as a servant, learn its secrets, and then +publish a scandal to the world. I do not give her name, for such +publicity would wound the sensitive feelings of friends, who would have +to share her disgrace, without being responsible for her faults. I +simply record the incident to show how I often was approached by +unprincipled parties. It is unnecessary to say that I indignantly +refused every bribe offered. + +The first public appearance of Mrs. Lincoln that winter was at the +reception on New Year's Day. This reception was shortly followed by a +brilliant levee. The day after the levee I went to the White House, and +while fitting a dress to Mrs. Lincoln, she said: + +"Lizabeth"--she had learned to drop the E--"Lizabeth, I have an idea. +These are war times, and we must be as economical as possible. You know +the President is expected to give a series of state dinners every +winter, and these dinners are very costly; Now I want to avoid this +expense; and my idea is, that if I give three large receptions, the +state dinners can be scratched from the programme. What do you think, +Lizabeth?" + +"I think that you are right, Mrs. Lincoln." + +"I am glad to hear you say so. If I can make Mr. Lincoln take the same +view of the case, I shall not fail to put the idea into practice." + +Before I left her room that day, Mr. Lincoln came in. She at once stated +the case to him. He pondered the question a few moments before +answering. + +"Mother, I am afraid your plan will not work." + +"But it _will_ work, if you will only determine that it _shall_ work." + +"It is breaking in on the regular custom," he mildly replied. + +"But you forget, father, these are war times, and old customs can be +done away with for the once. The idea is economical, you must admit." + +"Yes, mother, but we must think of something besides economy." + +"I do think of something else. Public receptions are more democratic +than stupid state dinners--are more in keeping with the spirit of the +institutions of our country, as you would say if called upon to make a +stump speech. There are a great many strangers in the city, foreigners +and others, whom we can entertain at our receptions, but whom we cannot +invite to our dinners." + +"I believe you are right, mother. You argue the point well. I think that +we shall have to decide on the receptions." + +So the day was carried. The question was decided, and arrangements were +made for the first reception. It now was January, and cards were issued +for February. + +The children, Tad and Willie, were constantly receiving presents. Willie +was so delighted with a little pony, that he insisted on riding it every +day. The weather was changeable, and exposure resulted in a severe cold, +which deepened into fever. He was very sick, and I was summoned to his +bedside. It was sad to see the poor boy suffer. Always of a delicate +constitution, he could not resist the strong inroads of disease. The +days dragged wearily by, and he grew weaker and more shadow-like. He was +his mother's favorite child, and she doted on him. It grieved her heart +sorely to see him suffer. When able to be about, he was almost +constantly by her side. When I would go in her room, almost always I +found blue-eyed Willie there, reading from an open book, or curled up in +a chair with pencil and paper in hand. He had decidedly a literary +taste, and was a studious boy. A short time before his death he wrote +this simple little poem: + + "WASHINGTON, D. C., October 30, 1861. + + DEAR SIR:--I enclose you my first attempt at poetry. + + "Yours truly, + "WM. W. LINCOLN. + + "_To the Editor of the National Republican._" + + LINES ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL EDWARD BAKER. + + THERE was no patriot like Baker, + So noble and so true; + He fell as a soldier on the field, + His face to the sky of blue. + + His voice is silent in the hall + Which oft his presence graced; + No more he'll hear the loud acclaim + Which rang from place to place. + + No squeamish notions filled his breast, + _The Union_ was his theme; + "_No surrender and no compromise_," + His day-thought and night's dream. + + His Country has _her_ part to pay + To'rds those he has left behind; + His widow and his children all, + She must always keep in mind. + +Finding that Willie continued to grow worse, Mrs. Lincoln determined to +withdraw her cards of invitation and postpone the reception. Mr. Lincoln +thought that the cards had better not be withdrawn. At least he advised +that the doctor be consulted before any steps were taken. Accordingly +Dr. Stone was called in. He pronounced Willie better, and said that +there was every reason for an early recovery. He thought, since the +invitations had been issued, it would be best to go on with the +reception. Willie, he insisted, was in no immediate danger. Mrs. Lincoln +was guided by these counsels, and no postponement was announced. On the +evening of the reception Willie was suddenly taken worse. His mother sat +by his bedside a long while, holding his feverish hand in her own, and +watching his labored breathing. The doctor claimed there was no cause +for alarm. I arranged Mrs. Lincoln's hair, then assisted her to dress. +Her dress was white satin, trimmed with black lace. The trail was very +long, and as she swept through the room, Mr. Lincoln was standing with +his back to the fire, his hands behind him, and his eyes on the carpet. +His face wore a thoughtful, solemn look. The rustling of the satin dress +attracted his attention. He looked at it a few moments; then, in his +quaint, quiet way remarked-- + +"Whew! our cat has a long tail to-night." + +Mrs. Lincoln did not reply. The President added: + +"Mother, it is my opinion, if some of that tail was nearer the head, it +would be in better style;" and he glanced at her bare arms and neck. She +had a beautiful neck and arm, and low dresses were becoming to her. She +turned away with a look of offended dignity, and presently took the +President's arm, and both went down-stairs to their guests, leaving me +alone with the sick boy. + +The reception was a large and brilliant one, and the rich notes of the +Marine Band in the apartments below came to the sick-room in soft, +subdued murmurs, like the wild, faint sobbing of far-off spirits. Some +of the young people had suggested dancing, but Mr. Lincoln met the +suggestion with an emphatic veto. The brilliance of the scene could not +dispel the sadness that rested upon the face of Mrs. Lincoln. During the +evening she came upstairs several times, and stood by the bedside of the +suffering boy. She loved him with a mother's heart, and her anxiety was +great. The night passed slowly; morning came, and Willie was worse. He +lingered a few days, and died. God called the beautiful spirit home, and +the house of joy was turned into the house of mourning. I was worn out +with watching, and was not in the room when Willie died, but was +immediately sent for. I assisted in washing him and dressing him, and +then laid him on the bed, when Mr. Lincoln came in. I never saw a man so +bowed down with grief. He came to the bed, lifted the cover from the +face of his child, gazed at it long and earnestly, murmuring, "My poor +boy, he was too good for this earth. God has called him home. I know +that he is much better off in heaven, but then we loved him so. It is +hard, hard to have him die!" + +Great sobs choked his utterance. He buried his head in his hands, and +his tall frame was convulsed with emotion. I stood at the foot of the +bed, my eyes full of tears, looking at the man in silent, awe-stricken +wonder. His grief unnerved him, and made him a weak, passive child. I +did not dream that his rugged nature could be so moved. I shall never +forget those solemn moments--genius and greatness weeping over love's +idol lost. There is a grandeur as well as a simplicity about the picture +that will never fade. With me it is immortal--I really believe that I +shall carry it with me across the dark, mysterious river of death. + +Mrs. Lincoln's grief was inconsolable. The pale face of her dead boy +threw her into convulsions. Around him love's tendrils had been twined, +and now that he was dressed for the tomb, it was like tearing the +tendrils out of the heart by their roots. Willie, she often said, if +spared by Providence, would be the hope and stay of her old age. But +Providence had not spared him. The light faded from his eyes, and the +death-dew had gathered on his brow. + +In one of her paroxysms of grief the President kindly bent over his +wife, took her by the arm, and gently led her to the window. With a +stately, solemn gesture, he pointed to the lunatic asylum. + +"Mother, do you see that large white building on the hill yonder? Try +and control your grief, or it will drive you mad, and we may have to +send you there." + +Mrs. Lincoln was so completely overwhelmed with sorrow that she did not +attend the funeral. Willie was laid to rest in the cemetery, and the +White House was draped in mourning. Black crape everywhere met the eye, +contrasting strangely with the gay and brilliant colors of a few days +before. Party dresses were laid aside, and every one who crossed the +threshold of the Presidential mansion spoke in subdued tones when they +thought of the sweet boy at rest-- + +"Under the sod and the dew." + +Previous to this I had lost my son. Leaving Wilberforce, he went to the +battle-field with the three months troops, and was killed in +Missouri--found his grave on the battle-field where the gallant General +Lyon fell. It was a sad blow to me, and the kind womanly letter that +Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me when she heard of my bereavement was full of +golden words of comfort. + +Nathaniel Parker Willis, the genial poet, now sleeping in his grave, +wrote this beautiful sketch of Willie Lincoln, after the sad death of +the bright-eyed boy: + +"This little fellow had his acquaintances among his father's friends, +and I chanced to be one of them. He never failed to seek me out in the +crowd, shake hands, and make some pleasant remark; and this, in a boy of +ten years of age, was, to say the least, endearing to a stranger. But he +had more than mere affectionateness. His self-possession--_aplomb_, as +the French call it--was extraordinary. I was one day passing the White +House, when he was outside with a play-fellow on the side-walk. Mr. +Seward drove in, with Prince Napoleon and two of his suite in the +carriage; and, in a mock-heroic way--terms of intimacy evidently +existing between the boy and the Secretary--the official gentleman took +off his hat, and the Napoleon did the same, all making the young Prince +President a ceremonious salute. Not a bit staggered with the homage, +Willie drew himself up to his full height, took off his little cap with +graceful self-possession, and bowed down formally to the ground, like a +little ambassador. They drove past, and he went on unconcernedly with +his play: the impromptu readiness and good judgment being clearly a +part of his nature. His genial and open expression of countenance was +none the less ingenuous and fearless for a certain tincture of fun; and +it was in this mingling of qualities that he so faithfully resembled his +father. + +"With all the splendor that was around this little fellow in his new +home, he was so bravely and beautifully _himself_--and that only. A wild +flower transplanted from the prairie to the hot-house, he retained his +prairie habits, unalterably pure and simple, till he died. His leading +trait seemed to be a fearless and kindly frankness, willing that +everything should be as different as it pleased, but resting unmoved in +his own conscious single-heartedness. I found I was studying him +irresistibly, as one of the sweet problems of childhood that the world +is blessed with in rare places; and the news of his death (I was absent +from Washington, on a visit to my own children, at the time) came to me +like a knell heard unexpectedly at a merry-making. + +"On the day of the funeral I went before the hour, to take a near +farewell look at the dear boy; for they had embalmed him to send home to +the West--to sleep under the sod of his own valley--and the coffin-lid +was to be closed before the service. The family had just taken their +leave of him, and the servants and nurses were seeing him for the last +time--and with tears and sobs wholly unrestrained, for he was loved like +an idol by every one of them. He lay with eyes closed--his brown hair +parted as we had known it--pale in the slumber of death; but otherwise +unchanged, for he was dressed as if for the evening, and held in one of +his hands, crossed upon his breast, a bunch of exquisite flowers--a +message coming from his mother, while we were looking upon him, that +those flowers might be preserved for her. She was lying sick in her bed, +worn out with grief and over-watching. + +"The funeral was very touching. Of the entertainments in the East Room +the boy had been--for those who now assembled more especially--a most +life-giving variation. With his bright face, and his apt greetings and +replies, he was remembered in every part of that crimson-curtained hall, +built only for pleasure--of all the crowds, each night, certainly the +one least likely to be death's first mark. He was his father's +favorite. They were intimates--often seen hand in hand. And there sat +the man, with a burden on his brain at which the world marvels--bent now +with the load at both heart and brain--staggering under a blow like the +taking from him of his child! His men of power sat around +him--McClellan, with a moist eye when he bowed to the prayer, as I could +see from where I stood; and Chase and Seward, with their austere +features at work; and senators, and ambassadors, and soldiers, all +struggling with their tears--great hearts sorrowing with the President +as a stricken man and a brother. That God may give him strength for all +his burdens is, I am sure, at present the prayer of a nation." + +This sketch was very much admired by Mrs. Lincoln. I copy it from the +scrap-book in which she pasted it, with many tears, with her own hands. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WASHINGTON IN 1862-3 + + +In the summer of 1862, freedmen began to flock into Washington from +Maryland and Virginia. They came with a great hope in their hearts, and +with all their worldly goods on their backs. Fresh from the bonds of +slavery, fresh from the benighted regions of the plantation, they came +to the Capital looking for liberty, and many of them not knowing it when +they found it. Many good friends reached forth kind hands, but the North +is not warm and impulsive. For one kind word spoken, two harsh ones were +uttered; there was something repelling in the atmosphere, and the bright +joyous dreams of freedom to the slave faded--were sadly altered, in the +presence of that stern, practical mother, reality. Instead of flowery +paths, days of perpetual sunshine, and bowers hanging with golden fruit, +the road was rugged and full of thorns, the sunshine was eclipsed by +shadows, and the mute appeals for help too often were answered by cold +neglect. Poor dusky children of slavery, men and women of my own +race--the transition from slavery to freedom was too sudden for you! The +bright dreams were too rudely dispelled; you were not prepared for the +new life that opened before you, and the great masses of the North +learned to look upon your helplessness with indifference--learned to +speak of you as an idle, dependent race. Reason should have prompted +kinder thoughts. Charity is ever kind. + +One fair summer evening I was walking the streets of Washington, +accompanied by a friend, when a band of music was heard in the distance. +We wondered what it could mean, and curiosity prompted us to find out +its meaning. We quickened our steps, and discovered that it came from +the house of Mrs. Farnham. The yard was brilliantly lighted, ladies and +gentlemen were moving about, and the band was playing some of its +sweetest airs. We approached the sentinel on duty at the gate, and asked +what was going on. He told us that it was a festival given for the +benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers in the city. This suggested an +idea to me. If the white people can give festivals to raise funds for +the relief of suffering soldiers, why should not the well-to-do colored +people go to work to do something for the benefit of the suffering +blacks? I could not rest. The thought was ever present with me, and the +next Sunday I made a suggestion in the colored church, that a society of +colored people be formed to labor for the benefit of the unfortunate +freedmen. The idea proved popular, and in two weeks "the Contraband +Relief Association" was organized, with forty working members. + +In September of 1862, Mrs. Lincoln left Washington for New York, and +requested me to follow her in a few days, and join her at the +Metropolitan Hotel. I was glad of the opportunity to do so, for I +thought that in New York I would be able to do something in the +interests of our society. Armed with credentials, I took the train for +New York, and went to the Metropolitan, where Mrs. Lincoln had secured +accommodations for me. The next morning I told Mrs. Lincoln of my +project; and she immediately headed my list with a subscription of $200. +I circulated among the colored people, and got them thoroughly +interested in the subject, when I was called to Boston by Mrs. Lincoln, +who wished to visit her son Robert, attending college in that city. I +met Mr. Wendell Phillips, and other Boston philanthropists, who gave me +all the assistance in their power. We held a mass meeting at the Colored +Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes, in Boston, raised a sum of money, and +organized there a branch society. The society was organized by Mrs. +Grimes, wife of the pastor, assisted by Mrs. Martin, wife of Rev. Stella +Martin. This branch of the main society, during the war, was able to +send us over eighty large boxes of goods, contributed exclusively by the +colored people of Boston. Returning to New York, we held a successful +meeting at the Shiloh Church, Rev. Henry Highland Garnet, pastor. The +Metropolitan Hotel, at that time as now, employed colored help. I +suggested the object of my mission to Robert Thompson, Steward of the +Hotel, who immediately raised quite a sum of money among the dining-room +waiters. Mr. Frederick Douglass contributed $200, besides lecturing for +us. Other prominent colored men sent in liberal contributions. From +England[B] a large quantity of stores was received. Mrs. Lincoln made +frequent contributions, as also did the President. In 1863 I was +re-elected President of the Association, which office I continue to +hold. + +For two years after Willie's death the White House was the scene of no +fashionable display. The memory of the dead boy was duly respected. In +some things Mrs. Lincoln was an altered woman. Sometimes, when in her +room, with no one present but myself, the mere mention of Willie's name +would excite her emotion, and any trifling memento that recalled him +would move her to tears. She could not bear to look upon his picture; +and after his death she never crossed the threshold of the Guest's Room +in which he died, or the Green Room in which he was embalmed. There was +something supernatural in her dread of these things, and something that +she could not explain. Tad's nature was the opposite of Willie's, and he +was always regarded as his father's favorite child. His black eyes +fairly sparkled with mischief. + +The war progressed, fair fields had been stained with blood, thousands +of brave men had fallen, and thousands of eyes were weeping for the +fallen at home. There were desolate hearthstones in the South as well as +in the North, and as the people of my race watched the sanguinary +struggle, the ebb and flow of the tide of battle, they lifted their +faces Zionward, as if they hoped to catch a glimpse of the Promised Land +beyond the sulphureous clouds of smoke which shifted now and then but to +reveal ghastly rows of new-made graves. Sometimes the very life of the +nation seemed to tremble with the fierce shock of arms. In 1863 the +Confederates were flushed with victory, and sometimes it looked as if +the proud flag of the Union, the glorious old Stars and Stripes, must +yield half its nationality to the tri-barred flag that floated grandly +over long columns of gray. These were sad, anxious days to Mr. Lincoln, +and those who saw the man in privacy only could tell how much he +suffered. One day he came into the room where I was fitting a dress on +Mrs. Lincoln. His step was slow and heavy, and his face sad. Like a +tired child he threw himself upon a sofa, and shaded his eyes with his +hands. He was a complete picture of dejection. Mrs. Lincoln, observing +his troubled look, asked: + +"Where have you been, father?" + +"To the War Department," was the brief, almost sullen answer. + +"Any news?" + +"Yes, plenty of news, but no good news. It is dark, dark everywhere." + +He reached forth one of his long arms, and took a small Bible from a +stand near the head of the sofa, opened the pages of the holy book, and +soon was absorbed in reading them. A quarter of an hour passed, and on +glancing at the sofa the face of the President seemed more cheerful. The +dejected look was gone, and the countenance was lighted up with new +resolution and hope. The change was so marked that I could not but +wonder at it, and wonder led to the desire to know what book of the +Bible afforded so much comfort to the reader. Making the search for a +missing article an excuse, I walked gently around the sofa, and looking +into the open book, I discovered that Mr. Lincoln was reading that +divine comforter, Job. He read with Christian eagerness, and the courage +and hope that he derived from the inspired pages made him a new man. I +almost imagined that I could hear the Lord speaking to him from out the +whirlwind of battle: "Gird up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of +thee, and declare thou unto me." What a sublime picture was this! A +ruler of a mighty nation going to the pages of the Bible with simple +Christian earnestness for comfort and courage, and finding both in the +darkest hours of a nation's calamity. Ponder it, O ye scoffers at God's +Holy Word, and then hang your heads for very shame! + +Frequent letters were received warning Mr. Lincoln of assassination, but +he never gave a second thought to the mysterious warnings. The letters, +however, sorely troubled his wife. She seemed to read impending danger +in every rustling leaf, in every whisper of the wind. + +"Where are you going now, father?" she would say to him, as she observed +him putting on his overshoes and shawl. + +"I am going over to the War Department, mother, to try and learn some +news." + +"But, father, you should not go out alone. You know you are surrounded +with danger." + +"All imagination. What does any one want to harm me for? Don't worry +about me, mother, as if I were a little child, for no one is going to +molest me;" and with a confident, unsuspecting air he would close the +door behind him, descend the stairs, and pass out to his lonely walk. + +For weeks, when trouble was anticipated, friends of the President would +sleep in the White House to guard him from danger. + +Robert would come home every few months, bringing new joy to the family +circle. He was very anxious to quit school and enter the army, but the +move was sternly opposed by his mother. + +"We have lost one son, and his loss is as much as I can bear, without +being called upon to make another sacrifice," she would say, when the +subject was under discussion. + +"But many a poor mother has given up all her sons," mildly suggested Mr. +Lincoln, "and our son is not more dear to us than the sons of other +people are to their mothers." + +"That may be; but I cannot bear to have Robert exposed to danger. His +services are not required in the field, and the sacrifice would be a +needless one." + +"The services of every man who loves his country are required in this +war. You should take a liberal instead of a selfish view of the +question, mother." + +Argument at last prevailed, and permission was granted Robert to enter +the army. With the rank of Captain and A. D. C. he went to the field, +and remained in the army till the close of the war. + +I well recollect a little incident that gave me a clearer insight into +Robert's character. He was at home at the time the Tom Thumb combination +was at Washington. The marriage of little Hopo'-my-thumb--Charles +Stratton--to Miss Warren created no little excitement in the world, and +the people of Washington participated in the general curiosity. Some of +Mrs. Lincoln's friends made her believe that it was the duty of Mrs. +Lincoln to show some attention to the remarkable dwarfs. Tom Thumb had +been caressed by royalty in the Old World, and why should not the wife +of the President of his native country smile upon him also? Verily, duty +is one of the greatest bugbears in life. A hasty reception was arranged, +and cards of invitation issued. I had dressed Mrs. Lincoln, and she was +ready to go below and receive her guests, when Robert entered his +mother's room. + +"You are at leisure this afternoon, are you not, Robert?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"Of course, then, you will dress and come down-stairs." + +"No, mother, I do not propose to assist in entertaining Tom Thumb. My +notions of duty, perhaps, are somewhat different from yours." + +Robert had a lofty soul, and he could not stoop to all of the follies +and absurdities of the ephemeral current of fashionable life. + +Mrs. Lincoln's love for her husband sometimes prompted her to act very +strangely. She was extremely jealous of him, and if a lady desired to +court her displeasure, she could select no surer way to do it than to +pay marked attention to the President. These little jealous freaks often +were a source of perplexity to Mr. Lincoln. If it was a reception for +which they were dressing, he would come into her room to conduct her +downstairs, and while pulling on his gloves ask, with a merry twinkle in +his eyes: + +"Well, mother, who must I talk with to-night--shall it be Mrs. D.?" + +"That deceitful woman! No, you shall not listen to her flattery." + +"Well, then, what do you say to Miss C.? She is too young and handsome +to practise deceit." + +"Young and handsome, you call her! You should not judge beauty for me. +No, she is in league with Mrs. D., and you shall not talk with her." + +"Well, mother, I must talk with some one. Is there any one that you do +not object to?" trying to button his glove, with a mock expression of +gravity. + +"I don't know as it is necessary that you should talk to anybody in +particular. You know well enough, Mr. Lincoln, that I do not approve of +your flirtations with silly women, just as if you were a beardless boy, +fresh from school." + +"But, mother, I insist that I must talk with somebody. I can't stand +around like a simpleton, and say nothing. If you will not tell me who I +may talk with, please tell me who I may _not_ talk with." + +"There is Mrs. D. and Miss C. in particular. I detest them both. Mrs. B. +also will come around you, but you need not listen to her flattery. +These are the ones in particular." + +"Very well, mother; now that we have settled the question to your +satisfaction, we will go down-stairs;" and always with stately dignity, +he proffered his arm and led the way. + +[Footnote B: The Sheffield Anti-Slavery Society of England + contributed through Mr. Frederick Douglass, to the Freedmen's + Relief Association, $24.00; Aberdeen Ladies' Society, $40.00; + Anti-Slavery Society of Edinburgh, Scotland, $48.00; Friends at + Bristol, England, $176.00; Birmingham Negro's Friend Society, + $50.00. Also received through Mr. Charles R. Douglass, from the + Birmingham Society, $33.00.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CANDID OPINIONS + + +Often Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln discussed the relations of Cabinet officers, +and gentlemen prominent in politics, in my presence. I soon learned that +the wife of the President had no love for Mr. Salmon P. Chase, at that +time Secretary of the Treasury. She was well versed in human character, +was somewhat suspicious of those by whom she was surrounded, and often +her judgment was correct. Her intuition about the sincerity of +individuals was more accurate than that of her husband. She looked +beyond, and read the reflection of action in the future. Her hostility +to Mr. Chase was very bitter. She claimed that he was a selfish +politician instead of a true patriot, and warned Mr. Lincoln not to +trust him too far. The daughter of the Secretary was quite a belle in +Washington, and Mrs. Lincoln, who was jealous of the popularity of +others, had no desire to build up her social position through political +favor to her father. Miss Chase, now Mrs. Senator Sprague, was a lovely +woman, and was worthy of all the admiration she received. Mr. Lincoln +was more confiding than his wife. He never suspected the fidelity of +those who claimed to be his friends. Honest to the very core himself, +and frank as a child, he never dreamed of questioning the sincerity of +others. + +"Father, I do wish that you would inquire a little into the motives of +Chase," said his wife one day. + +The President was lying carelessly upon a sofa, holding a newspaper in +his hands. "Mother, you are too suspicious. I give you credit for +sagacity, but you are disposed to magnify trifles. Chase is a patriot, +and one of my best friends." + +"Yes, one of your best friends because it is his interest to be so. He +is anything for Chase. If he thought he could make anything by it, he +would betray you to-morrow." + +"I fear that you are prejudiced against the man, mother. I know that you +do him injustice." + +"Mr. Lincoln, you are either blind or will not see. I am not the only +one that has warned you against him." + +"True, I receive letters daily from all parts of the country, telling me +not to trust Chase; but then these letters are written by the political +enemies of the Secretary, and it would be unjust and foolish to pay any +attention to them." + +"Very well, you will find out some day, if you live long enough, that I +have read the man correctly. I only hope that your eyes may not be +opened to the truth when it is too late." The President, as far as I +could judge from his conversation with his wife, continued to confide in +Mr. Chase to the time of his tragic death. + +Mrs. Lincoln was especially severe on Mr. Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of +State. She but rarely lost an opportunity to say an unkind word of him. + +One morning I went to the White House earlier than usual. Mr. Lincoln +was sitting in a chair, reading a paper, stroking with one hand the head +of little Tad. I was basting a dress for Mrs. Lincoln. A servant +entered, and handed the President a letter just brought by a messenger. +He broke the seal, and when he had read the contents his wife asked: + +"Who is the letter from, father?" + +"Seward; I must go over and see him today." + +"Seward! I wish you had nothing to do with that man. He cannot be +trusted." + +"You say the same of Chase. If I listened to you, I should soon be +without a Cabinet." + +"Better be without it than to confide in some of the men that you do. +Seward is worse than Chase. He has no principle." + +"Mother, you are mistaken; your prejudices are so violent that you do +not stop to reason. Seward is an able man, and the country as well as +myself can trust him." + +"Father, you are too honest for this world! You should have been born a +saint. You will generally find it a safe rule to distrust a +disappointed, ambitious politician. It makes me mad to see you sit still +and let that hypocrite, Seward, twine you around his finger as if you +were a skein of thread." + +"It is useless to argue the question, mother. You cannot change my +opinion." + +Mrs. Lincoln prided herself upon her ability to read character. She was +shrewd and far-seeing, and had no patience with the frank, confiding +nature of the President. + +When Andrew Johnson was urged for military Governor of Tennessee, Mrs. +Lincoln bitterly opposed the appointment. + +"He is a demagogue," she said, almost fiercely, "and if you place him in +power, Mr. Lincoln, mark my words, you will rue it some day." + +General McClellan, when made Commander-in-Chief, was the idol of the +soldiers, and never was a general more universally popular. "He is a +humbug," remarked Mrs. Lincoln one day in my presence. + +"What makes you think so, mother?" good-naturedly inquired the +President. + +"Because he talks so much and does so little. If I had the power I would +very soon take off his head, and put some energetic man in his place." + +"But I regard McClellan as a patriot and an able soldier. He has been +much embarrassed. The troops are raw, and the subordinate officers +inclined to be rebellious. There are too many politicians in the army +with shoulder-straps. McClellan is young and popular, and they are +jealous of him. They will kill him off if they can." + +"McClellan can make plenty of excuse for himself, therefore he needs no +advocate in you. If he would only do something, and not promise so much, +I might learn to have a little faith in him. I tell you he is a humbug, +and you will have to find some man to take his place, that is, if you +wish to conquer the South." + +Mrs. Lincoln could not tolerate General Grant. "He is a butcher," she +would often say, "and is not fit to be at the head of an army." + +"But he has been very successful in the field," argued the President. + +"Yes, he generally manages to claim a victory, but such a victory! He +loses two men to the enemy's one. He has no management, no regard for +life. If the war should continue four years longer, and he should remain +in power, he would depopulate the North. I could fight an army as well +myself. According to his tactics, there is nothing under the heavens to +do but to march a new line of men up in front of the rebel breastworks +to be shot down as fast as they take their position, and keep marching +until the enemy grows tired of the slaughter. Grant, I repeat, is an +obstinate fool and a butcher." + +"Well, mother, supposing that we give you command of the army. No doubt +you would do much better than any general that has been tried." There +was a twinkle in the eyes, and a ring of irony in the voice. + +I have often heard Mrs. Lincoln say that if Grant should ever be elected +President of the United States she would desire to leave the country, +and remain absent during his term of office. + +It was well known that Mrs. Lincoln's brothers were in the Confederate +army, and for this reason it was often charged that her sympathies were +with the South. Those who made the hasty charge were never more widely +mistaken. + +One morning, on my way to the White House, I heard that Captain +Alexander Todd, one of her brothers, had been killed. I did not like to +inform Mrs. Lincoln of his death, judging that it would be painful news +to her. I had been in her room but a few minutes when she said, with +apparent unconcern, "Lizzie, I have just heard that one of my brothers +has been killed in the war." + +"I also heard the same, Mrs. Lincoln, but hesitated to speak of it, for +fear the subject would be a painful one to you." + +"You need not hesitate. Of course, it is but natural that I should feel +for one so nearly related to me, but not to the extent that you suppose. +He made his choice long ago. He decided against my husband, and through +him against me. He has been fighting against us; and since he chose to +be our deadly enemy, I see no special reason why I should bitterly mourn +his death." + +I felt relieved, and in subsequent conversations learned that Mrs. +Lincoln had no sympathy for the South. "Why should I sympathize with the +rebels," she would say; "are they not against me? They would hang my +husband to-morrow if it was in their power, and perhaps gibbet me with +him. How then can I sympathize with a people at war with me and mine?" +She always objected to being thought Southern in feeling. + +Mr. Lincoln was generous by nature, and though his whole heart was in +the war, he could not but respect the valor of those opposed to him. His +soul was too great for the narrow, selfish views of partisanship. Brave +by nature himself, he honored bravery in others, even his foes. Time and +again I have heard him speak in the highest terms of the soldierly +qualities of such brave Confederate generals as Lee, Stonewall Jackson, +and Joseph E. Johns[t]on. Jackson was his ideal soldier. "He is a brave, +honest Presbyterian soldier," were his words; "what a pity that we +should have to fight such a gallant fellow! If we only had such a man to +lead the armies of the North, the country would not be appalled with so +many disasters." + +As this is a rambling chapter, I will here record an incident showing +his feeling toward Robert E. Lee. The very morning of the day on which +he was assassinated, his son, Capt. Robert Lincoln, came into the room +with a portrait of General Lee in his hand. The President took the +picture, laid it on a table before him, scanned the face thoughtfully, +and said: "It is a good face; it is the face of a noble, noble, brave +man. I am glad that the war is over at last." Looking up at Robert, he +continued: "Well, my son, you have returned safely from the front. The +war is now closed, and we soon will live in peace with the brave men +that have been fighting against us. I trust that the era of good feeling +has returned with the war, and that henceforth we shall live in peace. +Now listen to me, Robert: you must lay aside your uniform, and return to +college. I wish you to read law for three years, and at the end of that +time I hope that we will be able to tell whether you will make a lawyer +or not." His face was more cheerful than I had seen it for a long while, +and he seemed to be in a generous, forgiving mood. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BEHIND THE SCENES + + +Some of the freedmen and freedwomen had exaggerated ideas of liberty. To +them it was a beautiful vision, a land of sunshine, rest and glorious +promise. They flocked to Washington, and since their extravagant hopes +were not realized, it was but natural that many of them should bitterly +feel their disappointment. The colored people are wedded to +associations, and when you destroy these you destroy half of the +happiness of their lives. They make a home, and are so fond of it that +they prefer it, squalid though it be, to the comparative ease and luxury +of a shifting, roaming life. Well, the emancipated slaves, in coming +North, left old associations behind them, and the love for the past was +so strong that they could not find much beauty in the new life so +suddenly opened to them. Thousands of the disappointed, huddled together +in camps, fretted and pined like children for the "good old times." In +visiting them in the interests of the Relief Society of which I was +president, they would crowd around me with pitiful stories of distress. +Often I heard them declare that they would rather go back to slavery in +the South, and be with their old masters, than to enjoy the freedom of +the North. I believe they were sincere in these declarations, because +dependence had become a part of their second nature, and independence +brought with it the cares and vexations of poverty. + +I was very much amused one day at the grave complaints of a good old, +simple-minded woman, fresh from a life of servitude. She had never +ventured beyond a plantation until coming North. The change was too +radical for her, and she could not exactly understand it. She thought, +as many others thought, that Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln were the government, +and that the President and his wife had nothing to do but to supply the +extravagant wants of every one that applied to them. The wants of this +old woman, however, were not very extravagant. + +"Why, Missus Keckley," said she to me one day, "I is been here eight +months, and Missus Lingom an't even give me one shife. Bliss God, +childen, if I had ar know dat de Government, and Mister and Missus +Government, was going to do dat ar way, I neber would 'ave comed here in +God's wurld. My old missus us't gib me two shifes eber year." + +I could not restrain a laugh at the grave manner in which this good old +woman entered her protest. Her idea of freedom was two or more old +shifts every year. Northern readers may not fully recognize the pith of +the joke. On the Southern plantation, the mistress, according to +established custom, every year made a present of certain under-garments +to her slaves, which articles were always anxiously looked forward to, +and thankfully received. The old woman had been in the habit of +receiving annually two shifts from her mistress, and she thought the +wife of the President of the United States very mean for overlooking +this established custom of the plantation. + +While some of the emancipated blacks pined for the old associations of +slavery, and refused to help themselves, others went to work with +commendable energy, and planned with remarkable forethought. They built +themselves cabins, and each family cultivated for itself a small patch +of ground. The colored people are fond of domestic life, and with them +domestication means happy children, a fat pig, a dozen or more chickens, +and a garden. Whoever visits the Freedmen's Village now in the vicinity +of Washington will discover all of these evidences of prosperity and +happiness. The schools are objects of much interest. Good teachers, +white and colored, are employed, and whole brigades of bright-eyed dusky +children are there taught the common branches of education. These +children are studious, and the teachers inform me that their advancement +is rapid. I number among my personal friends twelve colored girls +employed as teachers in the schools at Washington. The Colored Mission +Sabbath School, established through the influence of Gen. Brown at the +Fifteenth Street Presbyterian Church, is always an object of great +interest to the residents of the Capital, as well as to the hundreds of +strangers visiting the city. + +In 1864 the receptions again commenced at the White House. For the first +two years of Mr. Lincoln's administration, the President selected a lady +to join in the promenade with him, which left Mrs. Lincoln free to +choose an escort from among the distinguished gentlemen that always +surrounded her on such occasions. This custom at last was discontinued +by Mrs. Lincoln. + +"Lizabeth!"--I was sewing in her room, and she was seated in a +comfortable arm-chair--"Lizabeth, I have been thinking over a little +matter. As you are well aware, the President, at every reception, +selects a lady to lead the promenade with him. Now it occurs to me that +this custom is an absurd one. On such occasions our guests recognize the +position of the President as first of all; consequently, he takes the +lead in everything; well, now, if they recognize his position they +should also recognize mine. I am his wife, and should lead with him. And +yet he offers his arm to any other lady in the room, making her first +with him and placing me second. The custom is an absurd one, and I mean +to abolish it. The dignity that I owe to my position, as Mrs. President, +demands that I should not hesitate any longer to act." + +Mrs. Lincoln kept her word. Ever after this, she either led the +promenade with the President, or the President walked alone or with a +gentleman. The change was much remarked, but the reason why it was made, +I believe, was never generally known. + +In 1864 much doubt existed in regard to the re-election of Mr. Lincoln, +and the White House was besieged by all grades of politicians. Mrs. +Lincoln was often blamed for having a certain class of men around her. + +"I have an object in view, Lizabeth," she said to me in reference to +this matter. "In a political canvass it is policy to cultivate every +element of strength. These men have influence, and we require influence +to re-elect Mr. Lincoln. I will be clever to them until after the +election, and then, if we remain at the White House, I will drop every +one of them, and let them know very plainly that I only made tools of +them. They are an unprincipled set, and I don't mind a little +double-dealing with them." + +"Does Mr. Lincoln know what your purpose is?" I asked. + +"God! no; he would never sanction such a proceeding, so I keep him in +the dark, and will tell him of it when all is over. He is too honest to +take the proper care of his own interests, so I feel it to be my duty to +electioneer for him." + +Mr. Lincoln, as every one knows, was far from handsome. He was not +admired for his graceful figure and finely moulded face, but for the +nobility of his soul and the greatness of his heart. His wife was +different. He was wholly unselfish in every respect, and I believe that +he loved the mother of his children very tenderly. He asked nothing but +affection from her, but did not always receive it. When in one of her +wayward impulsive moods, she was apt to say and do things that wounded +him deeply. If he had not loved her, she would have been powerless to +cloud his thoughtful face, or gild it with a ray of sunshine as she +pleased. We are indifferent to those we do not love, and certainly the +President was not indifferent to his wife. She often wounded him in +unguarded moments, but calm reflection never failed to bring regret. + +Mrs. Lincoln was extremely anxious that her husband should be re-elected +President of the United States. In endeavoring to make a display +becoming her exalted position, she had to incur many expenses. Mr. +Lincoln's salary was inadequate to meet them, and she was forced to run +in debt, hoping that good fortune would favor her, and enable her to +extricate herself from an embarrassing situation. She bought the most +expensive goods on credit, and in the summer of 1864 enormous unpaid +bills stared her in the face. + +"What do you think about the election, Lizabeth?" she said to me one +morning. + +"I think that Mr. Lincoln will remain in the White House four years +longer," I replied, looking up from my work. + +"What makes you think so? Somehow I have learned to fear that he will be +defeated." + +"Because he has been tried, and has proved faithful to the best +interests of the country. The people of the North recognize in him an +honest man, and they are willing to confide in him, at least until the +war has been brought to a close. The Southern people made his election a +pretext for rebellion, and now to replace him by some one else, after +years of sanguinary war, would look too much like a surrender of the +North. So, Mr. Lincoln is certain to be re-elected. He represents a +principle, and to maintain this principle the loyal people of the loyal +States will vote for him, even if he had no merits to commend him." + +"Your view is a plausible one, Lizabeth, and your confidence gives me +new hope. If he should be defeated, I do not know what would become of +us all. To me, to him, there is more at stake in this election than he +dreams of." + +"What can you mean, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not comprehend." + +"Simply this. I have contracted large debts, of which he knows nothing, +and which he will be unable to pay if he is defeated." + +"What are your debts, Mrs. Lincoln?" + +"They consist chiefly of store bills. I owe altogether about +twenty-seven thousand dollars; the principal portion at Stewart's, in +New York. You understand, Lizabeth, that Mr. Lincoln has but little idea +of the expense of a woman's wardrobe. He glances at my rich dresses, and +is happy in the belief that the few hundred dollars that I obtain from +him supply all my wants. I must dress in costly materials. The people +scrutinize every article that I wear with critical curiosity. The very +fact of having grown up in the West, subjects me to more searching +observation. To keep up appearances, I must have money--more than Mr. +Lincoln can spare for me. He is too honest to make a penny outside of +his salary; consequently I had, and still have, no alternative but to +run in debt." + +"And Mr. Lincoln does not even suspect how much you owe?" + +"God, no!"--this was a favorite expression of hers--"and I would not +have him suspect. If he knew that his wife was involved to the extent +that she is, the knowledge would drive him mad. He is so sincere and +straightforward himself, that he is shocked by the duplicity of others. +He does not know a thing about any debts and I value his happiness, not +to speak of my own, too much to allow him to know anything. This is +what troubles me so much. If he is re-elected, I can keep him in +ignorance of my affairs; but if he is defeated, then the bills will be +sent in, and he will know all;" and something like a hysterical sob +escaped her. + +Mrs. Lincoln sometimes feared that the politicians would get hold of the +particulars of her debts, and use them in the Presidential campaign +against her husband; and when this thought occurred to her, she was +almost crazy with anxiety and fear. + +When in one of these excited moods, she would fiercely exclaim-- + +"The Republican politicians must pay my debts. Hundreds of them are +getting immensely rich off the patronage of my husband, and it is but +fair that they should help me out of my embarrassment. I will make a +demand of them, and when I tell them the facts they cannot refuse to +advance whatever money I require." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE SECOND INAUGURATION + + +Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments one day towards the close of the +summer of 1864, to consult me in relation to a dress. And here let me +remark, I never approved of ladies, attached to the Presidential +household, coming to my rooms. I always thought that it would be more +consistent with their dignity to send for me, and let me come to them, +instead of their coming to me. I may have peculiar notions about some +things, and this may be regarded as one of them. No matter, I have +recorded my opinion. I cannot forget the associations of my early life. +Well, Mrs. Lincoln came to my rooms, and, as usual, she had much to say +about the Presidential election. + +After some conversation, she asked: "Lizzie, where do you think I will +be this time next summer?" + +"Why, in the White House, of course." + +"I cannot believe so. I have no hope of the re-election of Mr. Lincoln. +The canvass is a heated one, the people begin to murmur at the war, and +every vile charge is brought against my husband." + +"No matter," I replied, "Mr. Lincoln will be re-elected. I am so +confident of it, that I am tempted to ask a favor of you." + +"A favor! Well, if we remain in the White House I shall be able to do +you many favors. What is the special favor?" + +"Simply this, Mrs. Lincoln--I should like for you to make me a present +of the right-hand glove that the President wears at the first public +reception after his second inaugural." + +"You shall have it in welcome. It will be so filthy when he pulls it +off, I shall be tempted to take the tongs and put it in the fire. I +cannot imagine, Lizabeth, what you want with such a glove." + +"I shall cherish it as a precious memento of the second inauguration of +the man who has done so much for my race. He has been a Jehovah to my +people--has lifted them out of bondage, and directed their footsteps +from darkness into light. I shall keep the glove, and hand it down to +posterity." + +"You have some strange ideas, Lizabeth. Never mind, you shall have the +glove; that is, if Mr. Lincoln continues President after the 4th of +March next." + +I held Mrs. Lincoln to her promise. That glove is now in my possession, +bearing the marks of the thousands of hands that grasped the honest hand +of Mr. Lincoln on that eventful night. Alas! it has become a prouder, +sadder memento than I ever dreamed--prior to making the request--it +would be. + +In due time the election came off, and all of my predictions were +verified. The loyal States decided that Mr. Lincoln should continue at +the nation's helm. Autumn faded, winter dragged slowly by, and still the +country resounded with the clash of arms. The South was suffering, yet +suffering was borne with heroic determination, and the army continued to +present a bold, defiant front. With the first early breath of spring, +thousands of people gathered in Washington to witness the second +inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. It +was a stirring day in the National Capital, and one that will never fade +from the memory of those who witnessed the imposing ceremonies. The +morning was dark and gloomy; clouds hung like a pall in the sky, as if +portending some great disaster. But when the President stepped forward +to receive the oath of office, the clouds parted, and a ray of sunshine +streamed from the heavens to fall upon and gild his face. It is also +said that a brilliant star was seen at noon-day. It was the noon-day of +life with Mr. Lincoln, and the star, as viewed in the light of +subsequent events, was emblematic of a summons from on high. This was +Saturday, and on Monday evening I went to the White House to dress Mrs. +Lincoln for the first grand levee. While arranging Mrs. L.'s hair, the +President came in. It was the first time I had seen him since the +inauguration, and I went up to him, proffering my hand with words of +congratulation. + +He grasped my outstretched hand warmly, and held it while he spoke: +"Thank you. Well, Madam Elizabeth"--he always called me Madam +Elizabeth--"I don't know whether I should feel thankful or not. The +position brings with it many trials. We do not know what we are destined +to pass through. But God will be with us all. I put my trust in God." He +dropped my hand, and with solemn face walked across the room and took +his seat on the sofa. Prior to this I had congratulated Mrs. Lincoln, +and she had answered with a sigh, "Thank you, Elizabeth; but now that we +have won the position, I almost wish it were otherwise. Poor Mr. Lincoln +is looking so broken-hearted, so completely worn out, I fear he will not +get through the next four years." Was it a presentiment that made her +take a sad view of the future? News from the front was never more +cheering. On every side the Confederates were losing ground, and the +lines of blue were advancing in triumph. As I would look out my window +almost every day, I could see the artillery going past on its way to the +open space of ground, to fire a salute in honor of some new victory. +From every point came glorious news of the success of the soldiers that +fought for the Union. And yet, in their private chamber, away from the +curious eyes of the world, the President and his wife wore sad, anxious +faces. + +I finished dressing Mrs. Lincoln, and she took the President's arm and +went below. It was one of the largest receptions ever held in +Washington. Thousands crowded the halls and rooms of the White House, +eager to shake Mr. Lincoln by his hand, and receive a gracious smile +from his wife. The jam was terrible, and the enthusiasm great. The +President's hand was well shaken, and the next day, on visiting Mrs. +Lincoln, I received the soiled glove that Mr. Lincoln had worn on his +right hand that night. + +Many colored people were in Washington, and large numbers had desired to +attend the levee, but orders were issued not to admit them. A gentleman, +a member of Congress, on his way to the White House, recognized Mr. +Frederick Douglass, the eloquent colored orator, on the outskirts of the +crowd. + +"How do you do, Mr. Douglass? A fearful jam to-night. You are going in, +of course?" + +"No--that is, no to your last question." + +"Not going in to shake the President by the hand! Why, pray?" + +"The best reason in the world. Strict orders have been issued not to +admit people of color." + +"It is a shame, Mr. Douglass, that you should thus be placed under ban. +Never mind; wait here, and I will see what can be done." + +The gentleman entered the White House, and working his way to the +President, asked permission to introduce Mr. Douglass to him. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Lincoln. "Bring Mr. Douglass in, by all means. I +shall be glad to meet him." + +The gentleman returned, and soon Mr. Douglass stood face to face with +the President. Mr. Lincoln pressed his hand warmly, saying: "Mr. +Douglass, I am glad to meet you. I have long admired your course, and I +value your opinions highly." + +Mr. Douglass was very proud of the manner in which Mr. Lincoln received +him. On leaving the White House he came to a friend's house where a +reception was being held, and he related the incident with great +pleasure to myself and others. + +On the Monday following the reception at the White House, everybody was +busy preparing for the grand inaugural ball to come off that night. I +was in Mrs. Lincoln's room the greater portion of the day. While +dressing her that night, the President came in, and I remarked to him +how much Mr. Douglass had been pleased on the night he was presented to +Mr. Lincoln. Mrs. L. at once turned to her husband with the inquiry, +"Father, why was not Mr. Douglass introduced to me?" + +"I do not know. I thought he was presented." + +"But he was not." + +"It must have been an oversight then, mother; I am sorry you did not +meet him." + +I finished dressing her for the ball, and accompanied her to the door. +She was dressed magnificently, and entered the ball-room leaning on the +arm of Senator Sumner, a gentleman that she very much admired. Mr. +Lincoln walked into the ball-room accompanied by two gentlemen. This +ball closed the season. It was the last time that the President and his +wife ever appeared in public. + +Some days after, Mrs. Lincoln, with a party of friends, went to City +Point on a visit. + +Mrs. Lincoln had returned to Washington prior to the 2d of April. On +Monday, April 3d, Mrs. Secretary Harlan came into my room with material +for a dress. While conversing with her, I saw artillery pass the window; +and as it was on its way to fire a salute, I inferred that good news had +been received at the War Department. My reception-room was on one side +of the street, and my work-room on the other side. Inquiring the cause +of the demonstration, we were told that Richmond had fallen. Mrs. Harlan +took one of my hands in each of her own, and we rejoiced together. I ran +across to my work-room, and on entering it, discovered that the girls in +my employ also had heard the good news. They were particularly elated, +as it was reported that the rebel capital had surrendered to colored +troops. I had promised my employees a holiday when Richmond should fall; +and now that Richmond had fallen, they reminded me of my promise. + +I recrossed to my reception-room, and Mrs. Harlan told me that the good +news was enough for her--she could afford to wait for her dress, and to +give the girls a holiday and a treat, by all means. She returned to her +house, and I joined my girls in the joy of the long-promised holiday. We +wandered about the streets of the city with happy faces, and hearts +overflowing with joy. The clerks in the various departments also enjoyed +a holiday, and they improved it by getting gloriously fuddled. Towards +evening I saw S., and many other usually clear-headed men, in the +street, in a confused, uncertain state of mind. + +Mrs. Lincoln had invited me to accompany her to City Point. I went to +the White House, and told her that if she intended to return, I would +regard it as a privilege to go with her, as City Point was near +Petersburg, my old home. Mrs. L. said she designed returning, and would +be delighted to take me with her; so it was arranged that I should +accompany her. + +A few days after we were on board the steamer, _en route_ for City +Point. Mrs. Lincoln was joined by Mrs. Secretary Harlan and daughter, +Senator Sumner, and several other gentlemen. + +Prior to this, Mr. Lincoln had started for City Point, and before we +reached our destination he had visited Richmond, Petersburg, and other +points. We arrived on Friday, and Mrs. Lincoln was much disappointed +when she learned that the President had visited the late Confederate +capital, as she had greatly desired to be with him when he entered the +conquered stronghold. It was immediately arranged that the entire party +on board the River Queen should visit Richmond, and other points, with +the President. The next morning, after the arrangement was perfected, we +were steaming up James River--the river that so long had been +impassable, even to our gunboats. The air was balmy, and the banks of +the river were beautiful, and fragrant with the first sweet blossoms of +spring. For hours I stood on deck, breathing the pure air, and viewing +the landscape on either side of the majestically flowing river. Here +stretched fair fields, emblematic of peace--and here deserted camps and +frowning forts, speaking of the stern vicissitudes of war. Alas! how +many changes had taken place since my eye had wandered over the classic +fields of dear old Virginia! A birthplace is always dear, no matter +under what circumstances you were born, since it revives in memory the +golden hours of childhood, free from philosophy, and the warm kiss of a +mother. I wondered if I should catch a glimpse of a familiar face; I +wondered what had become of those I once knew; had they fallen in +battle, been scattered by the relentless tide of war, or were they still +living as they lived when last I saw them? I wondered, now that Richmond +had fallen, and Virginia been restored to the clustering stars of the +Union, if the people would come together in the bonds of peace; and as I +gazed and wondered, the River Queen rapidly carried us to our +destination. + +The Presidential party were all curiosity on entering Richmond. They +drove about the streets of the city, and examined every object of +interest. The Capitol presented a desolate appearance--desks broken, and +papers scattered promiscuously in the hurried flight of the Confederate +Congress. I picked up a number of papers, and, by curious coincidence, +the resolution prohibiting all free colored people from entering the +State of Virginia. In the Senate chamber I sat in the chair that +Jefferson Davis sometimes occupied; also in the chair of the +Vice-President, Alexander H. Stephens. We paid a visit to the mansion +occupied by Mr. Davis and family during the war, and the ladies who +were in charge of it scowled darkly upon our party as we passed through +and inspected the different rooms. After a delightful visit we returned +to City Point. + +That night, in the cabin of the River Queen, smiling faces gathered +around the dinner-table. One of the guests was a young officer attached +to the Sanitary Commission. He was seated near Mrs. Lincoln, and, by way +of pleasantry, remarked: "Mrs. Lincoln, you should have seen the +President the other day, on his triumphal entry into Richmond. He was +the cynosure of all eyes. The ladies kissed their hands to him, and +greeted him with the waving of handkerchiefs. He is quite a hero when +surrounded by pretty young ladies." + +The young officer suddenly paused with a look of embarrassment. Mrs. +Lincoln turned to him with flashing eyes, with the remark that his +familiarity was offensive to her. Quite a scene followed, and I do not +think that the Captain who incurred Mrs. Lincoln's displeasure will ever +forget that memorable evening in the cabin of the River Queen, at City +Point. + +Saturday morning the whole party decided to visit Petersburg, and I was +only too eager to accompany them. + +When we arrived at the city, numbers crowded around the train, and a +little ragged negro boy ventured timidly into the car occupied by Mr. +Lincoln and immediate friends, and in replying to numerous questions, +used the word "tote." + +"Tote," remarked Mr. Lincoln; "what do you mean by tote?" + +"Why, massa, to tote um on your back." + +"Very definite, my son; I presume when you tote a thing, you carry it. +By the way, Sumner," turning to the Senator, "what is the origin of +tote?" + +"Its origin is said to be African. The Latin word _totum_, from _totus_, +means all--an entire body--the whole." + +"But my young friend here did not mean an entire body, or anything of +the kind, when he said he would tote my things for me," interrupted the +President. + +"Very true," continued the Senator. "He used the word tote in the +African sense, to carry, to bear. Tote in this sense is defined in our +standard dictionaries as a colloquial word of the Southern States, used +especially by the negroes." + +"Then you regard the word as a good one?" + +"Not elegant, certainly. For myself, I should prefer a better word; but +since it has been established by usage, I cannot refuse to recognize +it." + +Thus the conversation proceeded in pleasant style. + +Getting out of the car, the President and those with him went to visit +the forts and other scenes, while I wandered off by myself in search of +those whom I had known in other days. War, grim-visaged war, I soon +discovered had brought many changes to the city so well known to me in +the days of my youth. I found a number of old friends, but the greater +portion of the population were strange to me. The scenes suggested +painful memories, and I was not sorry to turn my back again upon the +city. A large, peculiarly shaped oak tree, I well remember, attracted +the particular attention of the President; it grew upon the outskirts of +Petersburg, and as he had discovered it on his first visit, a few days +previous to the second, he insisted that the party should go with him to +take a look at the isolated and magnificent specimen of the stately +grandeur of the forest. Every member of the party was only too willing +to accede to the President's request, and the visit to the oak was made, +and much enjoyed. + +On our return to City Point from Petersburg the train moved slowly, and +the President, observing a terrapin basking in the warm sunshine on the +wayside, had the conductor stop the train, and one of the brakemen bring +the terrapin in to him. The movements of the ungainly little animal +seemed to delight him, and he amused himself with it until we reached +James River, where our steamer lay. Tad stood near, and joined in the +happy laugh with his father. + +For a week the River Queen remained in James River, anchored the greater +portion of the time at City Point, and a pleasant and memorable week was +it to all on board. During the whole of this time a yacht lay in the +stream about a quarter of a mile distant, and its peculiar movements +attracted the attention of all on board. General Grant and Mrs. Grant +were on our steamer several times, and many distinguished officers of +the army also were entertained by the President and his party. + +Mr. Lincoln, when not off on an excursion of any kind, lounged about +the boat, talking familiarly with every one that approached him. + +The day before we started on our journey back to Washington, Mr. Lincoln +was engaged in reviewing the troops in camp. He returned to the boat in +the evening, with a tired, weary look. + +"Mother," he said to his wife, "I have shaken so many hands to-day that +my arms ache tonight. I almost wish that I could go to bed now." + +As the twilight shadows deepened the lamps were lighted, and the boat +was brilliantly illuminated; as it lay in the river, decked with +many-colored lights, it looked like an enchanted floating palace. A +military band was on board, and as the hours lengthened into night it +discoursed sweet music. Many officers came on board to say good-by, and +the scene was a brilliant one indeed. About 10 o'clock Mr. Lincoln was +called upon to make a speech. Rising to his feet, he said: + +"You must excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I am too tired to speak +to-night. On next Tuesday night I make a speech in Washington, at which +time you will learn all I have to say. And now, by way of parting from +the brave soldiers of our gallant army, I call upon the band to play +Dixie. It has always been a favorite of mine, and since we have captured +it, we have a perfect right to enjoy it." On taking his seat the band at +once struck up with Dixie, that sweet, inspiring air; and when the music +died away, there were clapping of hands and other manifestations of +applause. + +At 11 o'clock the last good-by was spoken, the lights were taken down, +the River Queen rounded out into the water and we were on our way back +to Washington. We arrived at the Capital at 6 o'clock on Sunday evening, +where the party separated, each going to his and her own home. This was +one of the most delightful trips of my life, and I always revert to it +with feelings of genuine pleasure. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN + + +I had never heard Mr. Lincoln make a public speech, and, knowing the man +so well, was very anxious to hear him. On the morning of the Tuesday +after our return from City Point, Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments, +and before she drove away I asked permission to come to the White House +that night and hear Mr. Lincoln speak. + +"Certainly, Lizabeth; if you take any interest in political speeches, +come and listen in welcome." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln. May I trespass further on your kindness by +asking permission to bring a friend with me?" + +"Yes, bring your friend also. By the way, come in time to dress me +before the speaking commences." + +"I will be in time. You may rely upon that. Good morning," I added, as +she swept from my room, and, passing out into the street, entered her +carriage and drove away. + +About 7 o'clock that evening I entered the White House. As I went +up-stairs I glanced into Mr. Lincoln's room through the half-open door, +and seated by a desk was the President, looking over his notes and +muttering to himself. His face was thoughtful, his manner abstracted, +and I knew, as I paused a moment to watch him, that he was rehearsing +the part that he was to play in the great drama soon to commence. + +Proceeding to Mrs. Lincoln's apartment, I worked with busy fingers, and +in a short time her toilette was completed. + +Great crowds began to gather in front of the White House, and loud calls +were made for the President. The band stopped playing, and as he +advanced to the centre window over the door to make his address, I +looked out, and never saw such a mass of heads before. It was like a +black, gently swelling sea. The swaying motion of the crowd, in the dim +uncertain light, was like the rising and falling of billows--like the +ebb and flow of the tide upon the stranded shore of the ocean. Close to +the house the faces were plainly discernible, but they faded into mere +ghostly outlines on the outskirts of the assembly; and what added to the +weird, spectral beauty of the scene, was the confused hum of voices that +rose above the sea of forms, sounding like the subdued, sullen roar of +an ocean storm, or the wind soughing through the dark lonely forest. It +was a grand and imposing scene, and when the President, with pale face +and his soul flashing through his eyes, advanced to speak, he looked +more like a demigod than a man crowned with the fleeting days of +mortality. + +The moment the President appeared at the window he was greeted with a +storm of applause, and voices re-echoed the cry, "A light! a light!" + +A lamp was brought, and little Tad at once rushed to his father's side, +exclaiming: + +"Let me hold the light, Papa! let me hold the light!" + +Mrs. Lincoln directed that the wish of her son be gratified, and the +lamp was transferred to his hands. The father and son standing there in +the presence of thousands of free citizens, the one lost in a chain of +eloquent ideas, the other looking up into the speaking face with a +proud, manly look, formed a beautiful and striking tableau. + +There were a number of distinguished gentlemen, as well as ladies, in +the room, nearly all of whom remarked the picture. + +I stood a short distance from Mr. Lincoln, and as the light from the +lamp fell full upon him, making him stand out boldly in the darkness, a +sudden thought struck me, and I whispered to the friend at my side: + +"What an easy matter would it be to kill the President, as he stands +there! He could be shot down from the crowd, and no one be able to tell +who fired the shot." + +I do not know what put such an idea into my head, unless it was the +sudden remembrance of the many warnings that Mr. Lincoln had received. + +The next day, I made mention to Mrs. Lincoln of the idea that had +impressed me so strangely the night before, and she replied with a sigh: + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Lincoln's life is always exposed. Ah, no one knows what +it is to live in constant dread of some fearful tragedy. The President +has been warned so often, that I tremble for him on every public +occasion. I have a presentiment that he will meet with a sudden and +violent end. I pray God to protect my beloved husband from the hands of +the assassin." + +Mr. Lincoln was fond of pets. He had two goats that knew the sound of +his voice, and when he called them they would come bounding to his side. +In the warm bright days, he and Tad would sometimes play in the yard +with these goats, for an hour at a time. One Saturday afternoon I went +to the White House to dress Mrs. Lincoln. I had nearly completed my task +when the President came in. It was a bright day, and walking to the +window, he looked down into the yard, smiled, and, turning to me, asked: + +"Madam Elizabeth, you are fond of pets, are you not?" + +"O yes, sir," I answered. + +"Well, come here and look at my two goats. I believe they are the +kindest and best goats in the world. See how they sniff the clear air, +and skip and play in the sunshine. Whew! what a jump," he exclaimed as +one of the goats made a lofty spring. "Madam Elizabeth, did you ever +before see such an active goat?" Musing a moment, he continued: "He +feeds on my bounty, and jumps with joy. Do you think we could call him a +bounty-jumper? But I flatter the bounty-jumper. My goat is far above +him. I would rather wear his horns and hairy coat through life, than +demean myself to the level of the man who plunders the national treasury +in the name of patriotism. The man who enlists into the service for a +consideration, and deserts the moment he receives his money but to +repeat the play, is bad enough; but the men who manipulate the grand +machine and who simply make the bounty-jumper their agent in an +outrageous fraud are far worse. They are beneath the worms that crawl in +the dark hidden places of earth." + +His lips curled with haughty scorn, and a cloud was gathering on his +brow. Only a moment the shadow rested on his face. Just then both goats +looked up at the window and shook their heads as if they would say "How +d'ye do, old friend?" + +"See, Madam Elizabeth," exclaimed the President in a tone of enthusiasm, +"my pets recognize me. How earnestly they look! There they go again; +what jolly fun!" and he laughed outright as the goats bounded swiftly to +the other side of the yard. Just then Mrs. Lincoln called out, "Come, +Lizabeth; if I get ready to go down this evening I must finish dressing +myself, or you must stop staring at those silly goats." + +Mrs. Lincoln was not fond of pets, and she could not understand how Mr. +Lincoln could take so much delight in his goats. After Willie's death, +she could not bear the sight of anything he loved, not even a flower. +Costly bouquets were presented to her, but she turned from them with a +shudder, and either placed them in a room where she could not see them, +or threw them out of the window. She gave all of Willie's +toys--everything connected with him--away, as she said she could not +look upon them without thinking of her poor dead boy, and to think of +him, in his white shroud and cold grave, was maddening. I never in my +life saw a more peculiarly constituted woman. Search the world over, and +you will not find her counterpart. After Mr. Lincoln's death, the goats +that he loved so well were given away--I believe to Mrs. Lee, _nee_ Miss +Blair, one of the few ladies with whom Mrs. Lincoln was on intimate +terms in Washington. + +During my residence in the Capital I made my home with Mr. and Mrs. +Walker Lewis, people of my own race, and friends in the truest sense of +the word. + +The days passed without any incident of particular note disturbing the +current of life. On Friday morning, April 14th--alas! what American does +not remember the day--I saw Mrs. Lincoln but for a moment. She told me +that she was to attend the theatre that night with the President, but I +was not summoned to assist her in making her toilette. Sherman had swept +from the northern border of Georgia through the heart of the Confederacy +down to the sea, striking the death-blow to the rebellion. Grant had +pursued General Lee beyond Richmond, and the army of Virginia, that had +made such stubborn resistance, was crumbling to pieces. Fort Sumter had +fallen;--the stronghold first wrenched from the Union; and which had +braved the fury of Federal guns for so many years, was restored to the +Union; the end of the war was near at hand, and the great pulse of the +loyal North thrilled with joy. The dark war-cloud was fading, and a +white-robed angel seemed to hover in the sky, whispering "Peace--peace +on earth, good-will toward men!" Sons, brothers, fathers, friends, +sweethearts were coming home. Soon the white tents would be folded, the +volunteer army be disbanded, and tranquillity again reign. Happy, happy +day!--happy at least to those who fought under the banner of the Union. +There was great rejoicing throughout the North. From the Atlantic to the +Pacific, flags were gayly thrown to the breeze, and at night every city +blazed with its tens of thousand lights. But scarcely had the fireworks +ceased to play, and the lights been taken down from the windows, when +the lightning flashed the most appalling news over the magnetic wires. +"The President has been murdered!" spoke the swift-winged messenger, and +the loud huzza died upon the lips. A nation suddenly paused in the midst +of festivity, and stood paralyzed with horror--transfixed with awe. + +Oh, memorable day! Oh, memorable night! Never before was joy so +violently contrasted with sorrow. + +At 11 o'clock at night I was awakened by an old friend and neighbor, +Miss M. Brown, with the startling intelligence that the entire Cabinet +had been assassinated, and Mr. Lincoln shot, but not mortally wounded. +When I heard the words I felt as if the blood had been frozen in my +veins, and that my lungs must collapse for the want of air. Mr. Lincoln +shot! the Cabinet assassinated! What could it mean? The streets were +alive with wondering, awe-stricken people. Rumors flew thick and fast, +and the wildest reports came with every new arrival. The words were +repeated with blanched cheeks and quivering lips. I waked Mr. and Mrs. +Lewis, and told them that the President was shot, and that I must go to +the White House. I could not remain in a state of uncertainty. I felt +that the house would not hold me. They tried to quiet me, but gentle +words could not calm the wild tempest. They quickly dressed themselves, +and we sallied out into the street to drift with the excited throng. We +walked rapidly towards the White House, and on our way passed the +residence of Secretary Seward, which was surrounded by armed soldiers, +keeping back all intruders with the point of the bayonet. We hurried on, +and as we approached the White House, saw that it too was surrounded +with soldiers. Every entrance was strongly guarded, and no one was +permitted to pass. The guard at the gate told us that Mr. Lincoln had +not been brought home, but refused to give any other information. More +excited than ever, we wandered down the street. Grief and anxiety were +making me weak, and as we joined the outskirts of a large crowd, I began +to feel as meek and humble as a penitent child. A gray-haired old man +was passing. I caught a glimpse of his face, and it seemed so full of +kindness and sorrow that I gently touched his arm, and imploringly +asked: + +"Will you please, sir, to tell me whether Mr. Lincoln is dead or not?" + +"Not dead," he replied, "but dying. God help us!" and with a heavy step +he passed on. + +"Not dead, but dying! then indeed God help us!" + +We learned that the President was mortally wounded--that he had been +shot down in his box at the theatre, and that he was not expected to +live till morning; when we returned home with heavy hearts. I could not +sleep. I wanted to go to Mrs. Lincoln, as I pictured her wild with +grief; but then I did not know where to find her, and I must wait till +morning. Never did the hours drag so slowly. Every moment seemed an age, +and I could do nothing but walk about and hold my arms in mental agony. + +Morning came at last, and a sad morning was it. The flags that floated +so gayly yesterday now were draped in black, and hung in silent folds at +half-mast. The President was dead, and a nation was mourning for him. +Every house was draped in black, and every face wore a solemn look. +People spoke in subdued tones, and glided whisperingly, wonderingly, +silently about the streets. + +About eleven o'clock on Saturday morning a carriage drove up to the +door, and a messenger asked for "Elizabeth Keckley." + +"Who wants her?" I asked. + +"I come from Mrs. Lincoln. If you are Mrs. Keckley, come with me +immediately to the White House." + +I hastily put on my shawl and bonnet, and was driven at a rapid rate to +the White House. Everything about the building was sad and solemn. I was +quickly shown to Mrs. Lincoln's room, and on entering, saw Mrs. L. +tossing uneasily about upon a bed. The room was darkened, and the only +person in it besides the widow of the President was Mrs. Secretary +Welles, who had spent the night with her. Bowing to Mrs. Welles, I went +to the bedside. + +"Why did you not come to me last night, Elizabeth--I sent for you?" Mrs. +Lincoln asked in a low whisper. + +"I did try to come to you, but I could not find you," I answered, as I +laid my hand upon her hot brow. + +I afterwards learned, that when she had partially recovered from the +first shock of the terrible tragedy in the theatre, Mrs. Welles asked: + +"Is there no one, Mrs. Lincoln, that you desire to have with you in this +terrible affliction?" + +"Yes, send for Elizabeth Keckley. I want her just as soon as she can be +brought here." + +Three messengers, it appears, were successively despatched for me, but +all of them mistook the number and failed to find me. + +Shortly after entering the room on Saturday morning, Mrs. Welles excused +herself, as she said she must go to her own family, and I was left alone +with Mrs. Lincoln. + +She was nearly exhausted with grief, and when she became a little quiet, +I asked and received permission to go into the Guests' Room, where the +body of the President lay in state. When I crossed the threshold of the +room, I could not help recalling the day on which I had seen little +Willie lying in his coffin where the body of his father now lay. I +remembered how the President had wept over the pale beautiful face of +his gifted boy, and now the President himself was dead. The last time I +saw him he spoke kindly to me, but alas! the lips would never move +again. The light had faded from his eyes, and when the light went out +the soul went with it. What a noble soul was his--noble in all the noble +attributes of God! Never did I enter the solemn chamber of death with +such palpitating heart and trembling footsteps as I entered it that day. +No common mortal had died. The Moses of my people had fallen in the hour +of his triumph. Fame had woven her choicest chaplet for his brow. Though +the brow was cold and pale in death, the chaplet should not fade, for +God had studded it with the glory of the eternal stars. + +When I entered the room, the members of the Cabinet and many +distinguished officers of the army were grouped around the body of their +fallen chief. They made room for me, and, approaching the body, I lifted +the white cloth from the white face of the man that I had worshipped as +an idol--looked upon as a demi-god. Notwithstanding the violence of the +death of the President, there was something beautiful as well as grandly +solemn in the expression of the placid face. There lurked the sweetness +and gentleness of childhood, and the stately grandeur of godlike +intellect. I gazed long at the face, and turned away with tears in my +eyes and a choking sensation in my throat. Ah! never was man so widely +mourned before. The whole world bowed their heads in grief when Abraham +Lincoln died. + +Returning to Mrs. Lincoln's room, I found her in a new paroxysm of +grief. Robert was bending over his mother with tender affection, and +little Tad was crouched at the foot of the bed with a world of agony in +his young face. I shall never forget the scene--the wails of a broken +heart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, the wild, +tempestuous outbursts of grief from the soul. I bathed Mrs. Lincoln's +head with cold water, and soothed the terrible tornado as best I could. +Tad's grief at his father's death was as great as the grief of his +mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy into silence. Sometimes +he would throw his arms around her neck, and exclaim, between his broken +sobs, "Don't cry so, Mamma! don't cry, or you will make me cry, too! You +will break my heart." + +Mrs. Lincoln could not bear to hear Tad cry, and when he would plead to +her not to break his heart, she would calm herself with a great effort, +and clasp her child in her arms. + +Every room in the White House was darkened, and every one spoke in +subdued tones, and moved about with muffled tread. The very atmosphere +breathed of the great sorrow which weighed heavily upon each heart. Mrs. +Lincoln never left her room, and while the body of her husband was being +borne in solemn state from the Atlantic to the broad prairies of the +West, she was weeping with her fatherless children in her private +chamber. She denied admittance to almost every one, and I was her only +companion, except her children, in the days of her great sorrow. + +There were many surmises as to who was implicated with J. Wilkes Booth +in the assassination of the President. A new messenger had accompanied +Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln to the theatre on that terrible Friday night. It +was the duty of this messenger to stand at the door of the box during +the performance, and thus guard the inmates from all intrusion. It +appears that the messenger was carried away by the play, and so +neglected his duty that Booth gained easy admission to the box. Mrs. +Lincoln firmly believed that this messenger was implicated in the +assassination plot. + +One night I was lying on a lounge near the bed occupied by Mrs. Lincoln. +One of the servants entering the room, Mrs. L. asked: + +"Who is on watch to-night?" + +"The new messenger," was the reply. + +"What! the man who attended us to the theatre on the night my dear, good +husband was murdered! He, I believe, is one of the murderers. Tell him +to come in to me." + +The messenger had overheard Mrs. Lincoln's words through the half-open +door, and when he came in he was trembling violently. + +She turned to him fiercely: "So you are on guard to-night--on guard in +the White House after helping to murder the President!" + +"Pardon me, but I did not help to murder the President. I could never +stoop to murder--much less to the murder of so good and great a man as +the President." + +"But it appears that you _did_ stoop to murder." + +"No, no! don't say that," he broke in. "God knows that I am innocent." + +"I don't believe you. Why were you not at the door to keep the assassin +out when he rushed into the box?" + +"I did wrong, I admit, and I have bitterly repented it, but I did not +help to kill the President. I did not believe that any one would try to +kill so good a man in such a public place, and the belief made me +careless. I was attracted by the play, and did not see the assassin +enter the box." + +"But you should have seen him. You had no business to be careless. I +shall always believe that you are guilty. Hush! I shan't hear another +word," she exclaimed, as the messenger essayed to reply. "Go now and +keep your watch," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand. With +mechanical step and white face the messenger left the room, and Mrs. +Lincoln fell back on her pillow, covered her face with her hands, and +commenced sobbing. + +Robert was very tender to his mother in the days of her sorrow. + +He suffered deeply, as his haggard face indicated, but he was ever manly +and collected when in the presence of his mother. Mrs. Lincoln was +extremely nervous, and she refused to have anybody about her but myself. +Many ladies called, but she received none of them. Had she been less +secluded in her grief, perhaps she would have had many warmer friends +to-day than she has. But far be it from me to harshly judge the sorrow +of any one. Could the ladies who called to condole with Mrs. Lincoln, +after the death of her husband, and who were denied admittance to her +chamber, have seen how completely prostrated she was with grief, they +would have learned to speak more kindly of her. Often at night, when Tad +would hear her sobbing, he would get up, and come to her bed in his +white sleeping-clothes: "Don't cry, Mamma; I cannot sleep if you cry! +Papa was good, and he has gone to heaven. He is happy there. He is with +God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma, or I will cry too." + +The closing appeal always proved the most effectual, as Mrs. Lincoln +could not bear to hear her child cry. + +Tad had been petted by his father, but petting could not spoil such a +manly nature as his. He seemed to realize that he was the son of a +President--to realize it in its loftiest and noblest sense. One morning, +while being dressed, he looked up at his nurse, and said: "Pa is dead. +I can hardly believe that I shall never see him again. I must learn to +take care of myself now." He looked thoughtful a moment, then added, +"Yes, Pa is dead, and I am only Tad Lincoln now, little Tad, like other +little boys. I am not a President's son now. I won't have many presents +any more. Well, I will try and be a good boy, and will hope to go some +day to Pa and brother Willie, in heaven." He was a brave, manly child, +and knew that influence had passed out of their hands with the death of +his father, and that his position in life was altered. He seemed to feel +that people petted him, and gave him presents, because they wanted to +please the President of the United States. From that period forward he +became more independent, and in a short time learned to dispense with +the services of a nurse. While in Chicago, I saw him get out his clothes +one Sunday morning and dress himself, and the change was such a great +one to me--for while in the White House, servants obeyed his every nod +and bid--that I could scarcely refrain from shedding tears. Had his +father lived, I knew it would have been different with his favorite boy. +Tad roomed with Robert, and he always took pride in pleasing his +brother. + +After the Committee had started West with the body of the President, +there was quite a breeze of excitement for a few days as to where the +remains should be interred. Secretary Stanton and others held frequent +conferences with Robert, Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lincoln's cousin, and Dr. Henry, +an old schoolmate and friend of Mr. Lincoln. The city authorities of +Springfield had purchased a beautiful plat of ground in a prosperous +portion of the city, and work was rapidly progressing on the tomb, when +Mrs. Lincoln made strenuous objection to the location. She declared that +she would stop the body in Chicago before it should be laid to rest in +the lot purchased for the purpose by the City of Springfield. She gave +as a reason, that it was her desire to be laid by the side of her +husband when she died, and that such would be out of the question in a +public place of the kind. As is well known, the difficulty was finally +settled by placing the remains of the President in the family vault at +Oak Ridge, a charming spot for the home of the dead. + +After the President's funeral Mrs. Lincoln rallied, and began to make +preparations to leave the White House. One day she suddenly exclaimed: +"God, Elizabeth, what a change! Did ever woman have to suffer so much +and experience so great a change? I had an ambition to be Mrs. +President; that ambition has been gratified, and now I must step down +from the pedestal. My poor husband! had he never been President, he +might be living to-day. Alas! all is over with me!" + +Folding her arms for a few moments, she rocked back and forth, then +commenced again, more vehemently than ever: "My God, Elizabeth, I can +never go back to Springfield! no, never, until I go in my shroud to be +laid by my dear husband's side, and may Heaven speed that day! I should +like to live for my sons, but life is so full of misery that I would +rather die." And then she would go off into a fit of hysterics. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MRS. LINCOLN LEAVES THE WHITE HOUSE + + +For five weeks Mrs. Lincoln was confined to her room. Packing afforded +quite a relief, as it so closely occupied us that we had not much time +for lamentation. + +Letters of condolence were received from all parts of the country, and +even from foreign potentates, but Mr. Andrew Johnson, the successor of +Mr. Lincoln, never called on the widow, or even so much as wrote a line +expressing sympathy for her grief and the loss of her husband. Robert +called on him one day to tell him that his mother would turn the White +House over to him in a few days, and he never even so much as inquired +after their welfare. Mrs. Lincoln firmly believes that Mr. Johnson was +concerned in the assassination plot. + +In packing, Mrs. Lincoln gave away everything intimately connected with +the President, as she said that she could not bear to be reminded of the +past. The articles were given to those who were regarded as the warmest +of Mr. Lincoln's admirers. All of the presents passed through my hands. +The dress that Mrs. Lincoln wore on the night of the assassination was +given to Mrs. Slade, the wife of an old and faithful messenger. The +cloak, stained with the President's blood, was given to me, as also was +the bonnet worn on the same memorable night. Afterwards I received the +comb and brush that Mr. Lincoln used during his residence at the White +House. With this same comb and brush I had often combed his head. When +almost ready to go down to a reception, he would turn to me with a +quizzical look: "Well, Madam Elizabeth, will you brush my bristles down +to-night?" + +"Yes, Mr. Lincoln." + +Then he would take his seat in an easy-chair, and sit quietly while I +arranged his hair. As may well be imagined, I was only too glad to +accept this comb and brush from the hands of Mrs. Lincoln. The cloak, +bonnet, comb, and brush, the glove worn at the first reception after the +second inaugural, and Mr. Lincoln's over-shoes, also given to me, I have +since donated for the benefit of Wilberforce University, a colored +college near Xenia, Ohio, destroyed by fire on the night that the +President was murdered. + +There was much surmise, when Mrs. Lincoln left the White House, what her +fifty or sixty boxes, not to count her score of trunks, could contain. +Had the government not been so liberal in furnishing the boxes, it is +possible that there would have been less demand for so much +transportation. The boxes were loosely packed, and many of them with +articles not worth carrying away. Mrs. Lincoln had a passion for +hoarding old things, believing, with Toodles, that they were "handy to +have about the house." + +The bonnets that she brought with her from Springfield, in addition to +every one purchased during her residence in Washington, were packed in +the boxes, and transported to Chicago. She remarked that she might find +use for the material some day, and it was prudent to look to the future. +I am sorry to say that Mrs. Lincoln's foresight in regard to the future +was only confined to cast-off clothing, as she owed, at the time of the +President's death, different store bills amounting to seventy thousand +dollars. Mr. Lincoln knew nothing of these bills, and the only happy +feature of his assassination was that he died in ignorance of them. Had +he known to what extent his wife was involved, the fact would have +embittered the only pleasant moments of his life. I disclose this secret +in regard to Mrs. Lincoln's debts, in order to explain why she should +subsequently have labored under pecuniary embarrassment. The children, +as well as herself, had received a vast number of presents during Mr. +Lincoln's administration, and these presents constituted a large item in +the contents of the boxes. The only article of furniture, so far as I +know, taken away from the White House by Mrs. Lincoln, was a little +dressing-stand used by the President. I recollect hearing him say one +day: + +"Mother, this little stand is so handy, and suits me so well, that I do +not know how I shall get along without it when we move away from here." +He was standing before a mirror, brushing his hair, when he made the +remark. + +"Well, father," Mrs. Lincoln replied, "if you like the stand so well, we +will take it with us when we go away." + +"Not for the world," he exclaimed; but she interrupted him: + +"I should like to know what difference it makes if we put a better one +in its place." + +"That alters the question. If you will put a stand in its place worth +twice as much as this one, and the Commissioner consents, then I have no +objection." + +Mrs. Lincoln remembered these words, and, with the consent of the +Commissioner, took the stand to Chicago with her for the benefit of +little Tad. Another stand, I must not forget to add, was put in its +place. + +It is charged that a great deal of furniture was lost from the White +House during Mr. Lincoln's occupation of it. Very true, and it can be +accounted for in this way: In some respects, to put the case very +plainly, Mrs. Lincoln was "penny wise and pound foolish." When she moved +into the White House, she discharged the Steward, whose business it was +to look after the affairs of the household. When the Steward was +dismissed, there was no one to superintend affairs, and the servants +carried away many pieces of furniture. In this manner the furniture +rapidly disappeared. + +Robert was frequently in the room where the boxes were being packed, and +he tried without avail to influence his mother to set fire to her vast +stores of old goods. "What are you going to do with that old dress, +mother?" he would ask. + +"Never mind, Robert, I will find use for it. You do not understand this +business." + +"And what is more, I hope I never may understand it. I wish to heaven +the car would take fire in which you place these boxes for +transportation to Chicago, and burn all of your old plunder up;" and +then, with an impatient gesture, he would turn on his heel and leave the +room. + +"Robert is so impetuous," his mother would say to me, after the closing +of the door. "He never thinks about the future. Well, I hope that he +will get over his boyish notions in time." + +Many of the articles that Mrs. Lincoln took away from the White House +were given, after her arrival in Chicago, for the benefit of charity +fairs. + +At last everything was packed, and the day for departure for the West +came. I can never forget that day; it was so unlike the day when the +body of the President was borne from the hall in grand and solemn state. +Then thousands gathered to bow the head in reverence as the plumed +hearse drove down the line. There was all the pomp of military +display--drooping flags, battalions with reversed arms, and bands +playing dirge-like airs. Now, the wife of the President was leaving the +White House, and there was scarcely a friend to tell her good-by. She +passed down the public stairway, entered her carriage, and quietly drove +to the depot where we took the cars. The silence was almost painful. + +It had been arranged that I should go to Chicago. When Mrs. Lincoln +first suggested her plan, I strongly objected; but I had been with her +so long, that she had acquired great power over me. + +"I cannot go West with you, Mrs. Lincoln," I said, when the idea was +first advanced. + +"But you must go to Chicago with me, Elizabeth; I cannot do without +you." + +"You forget my business, Mrs. Lincoln. I cannot leave it. Just now I +have the spring trousseau to make for Mrs. Douglas, and I have promised +to have it done in less than a week." + +"Never mind. Mrs. Douglas can get some one else to make her trousseau. +You may find it to your interest to go. I am very poor now, but if +Congress makes an appropriation for my benefit, you shall be well +rewarded." + +"It is not the reward, but--" I commenced, by way of reply, but she +stopped me: + +"Now don't say another word about it, if you do not wish to distress me. +I have determined that you shall go to Chicago with me, and you _must_ +go." + +When Mrs. Douglas learned that Mrs. Lincoln wished me to accompany her +West, she sent me word: + +"Never mind me. Do all you can for Mrs. Lincoln. My heart's sympathy is +with her." + +Finding that no excuse would be accepted, I made preparations to go to +Chicago with Mrs. L. + +The green car had specially been chartered for us, and in this we were +conveyed to the West. Dr. Henry accompanied us, and he was remarkably +attentive and kind. The first night out, Mrs. Lincoln had a severe +headache; and while I was bathing her temples, she said to me: + +"Lizabeth, you are my best and kindest friend, and I love you as my best +friend. I wish it were in my power to make you comfortable for the +balance of your days. If Congress provides for me, depend upon it, I +will provide for you." + +The trip was devoid of interest. We arrived in Chicago without accident +or delay, and apartments were secured for us at the Tremont House, where +we remained one week. At the expiration of this time Mrs. Lincoln +decided that living at the hotel was attended with too much expense, so +it was arranged that we should go to the country. Rooms were selected at +Hyde Park, a summer resort. + +Robert and Tad accompanied their mother to Hyde Park. We arrived about 3 +o'clock in the afternoon of Saturday. The place had just been opened the +summer before, and there was a newness about everything. The +accommodations were not first-class, the rooms being small and plainly +furnished. It was a lively day for us all. Robert occupied himself +unpacking his books, and arranging them on the shelves in the corner of +his small but neat room. I assisted him, he talking pleasantly all the +while. When we were through, he folded his arms, stood off a little +distance from the mantel, with an abstracted look as if he were thinking +of the great change in his fortunes--contrasting the present with the +past. Turning to me, he asked: "Well, Mrs. Keckley, how do you like our +new quarters?" + +"This is a delightful place, and I think you will pass your time +pleasantly," I answered. + +He looked at me with a quizzical smile, then remarked: "You call it a +delightful place! Well, perhaps it is. Since you do not have to stay +here, you can safely say as much about the charming situation as you +please. I presume that I must put up with it, as mother's pleasure must +be consulted before my own. But candidly, I would almost as soon be +dead as be compelled to remain three months in this dreary house." + +He seemed to feel what he said, and going to the window, he looked out +upon the view with moody countenance. I passed into Mrs. Lincoln's room, +and found her lying upon the bed, sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"What a dreary place, Lizzie! And to think that I should be compelled to +live here, because I have not the means to live elsewhere. Ah! what a +sad change has come to us all." I had listened to her sobbing for eight +weeks, therefore I was never surprised to find her in tears. Tad was the +only cheerful one of the party. He was a child of sunshine, and nothing +seemed to dampen the ardor of his spirits. + +Sunday was a very quiet day. I looked out of my window in the morning, +upon the beautiful lake that formed one of the most delightful views +from the house. The wind was just strong enough to ripple the broad +bosom of the water, and each ripple caught a jewel from the sunshine, +and threw it sparkling up towards the sky. Here and there a sail-boat +silently glided into view, or sank below the faint blue line that marked +the horizon--glided and melted away like the spectral shadows that +sometimes haunt the white snow-fields in the cold, tranquil light of a +winter's moon. As I stood by my window that morning, looking out upon +the lake, my thoughts were etherealized--the reflected sunbeams +suggested visions of crowns studded with the jewels of eternal life, and +I wondered how any one could call Hyde Park a dreary place. I had seen +so much trouble in my life, that I was willing to fold my arms and sink +into a passive slumber--slumber anywhere, so the great longing of the +soul was gratified--rest. + +Robert spent the day in his room with his books, while I remained in +Mrs. Lincoln's room, talking with her, contrasting the present with the +past, and drawing plans for the future. She held no communication, by +letter or otherwise, with any of her relatives or old friends, saying +that she wished to lead a secluded life for the summer. Old faces, she +claimed, would only bring back memories of scenes that she desired to +forget; and new faces, she felt assured, could not sympathize with her +distress, or add to the comforts of her situation. + +On Monday morning, Robert was getting ready to ride into Chicago, as +business called him to the city. + +"Where you goin', brother Bob?"--Tad generally called Robert, brother +Bob. + +"Only into town!" was the brief reply. + +"Mayn't I go with you?" + +"Ask mother. I think that she will say no." + +Just then Mrs. Lincoln came in, and Tad ran to her, with the eager +question: + +"Oh, Ma! can't I go to town with brother Bob? I want to go so badly." + +"Go to town! No; you must stay and keep me company. Besides, I have +determined that you shall get a lesson every day, and I am going to +commence to-day with you." + +"I don't want to get a lesson--I won't get a lesson," broke in the +impetuous boy. "I don't want to learn my book; I want to go to town!" + +"I suppose you want to grow up to be a great dunce. Hush, Tad; you shall +not go to town until you have said a lesson;" and the mother looked +resolute. + +"May I go after I learn my book?" was the next question. + +"Yes; if Robert will wait for you." + +"Oh, Bob will wait; won't you, Bob?" + +"No, I cannot wait; but the landlord is going in this afternoon, and you +can go with him. You must do as mother tells you, Tad. You are getting +to be a big boy now, and must start to school next fall; and you would +not like to go to school without knowing how to read." + +"Where's my book, Ma? Get my book quick. I will say my lesson," and he +jumped about the room, boisterously, boy-like. + +"Be quiet, Tad. Here is your book, and we will now begin the first +lesson," said his mother, as she seated herself in an easy-chair. + +Tad had always been much humored by his parents, especially by his +father. He suffered from a slight impediment in his speech, and had +never been made to go to school; consequently his book knowledge was +very limited. I knew that his education had been neglected, but had no +idea he was so deficient as the first lesson at Hyde Park proved him to +be. + +Drawing a low chair to his mother's side, he opened his book, and began +to slowly spell the first word, "A-P-E." + +"Well, what does A-p-e spell?" + +"Monkey," was the instant rejoinder. The word was illustrated by a small +wood-cut of an ape, which looked to Tad's eyes very much like a monkey; +and his pronunciation was guided by the picture, and not by the sounds +of the different letters. + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed his mother. "A-p-e does not spell monkey." + +"Does spell monkey! Isn't that a monkey?" and Tad pointed triumphantly +to the picture. + +"No, it is not a monkey." + +"Not a monkey! what is it, then?" + +"An ape." + +"An ape! 'taint an ape. Don't I know a monkey when I see it?" + +"No, if you say that is a monkey." + +"I do know a monkey. I've seen lots of them in the street with the +organs. I know a monkey better than you do, 'cause I always go out into +the street to see them when they come by, and you don't." + +"But, Tad, listen to me. An ape is a species of the monkey. It looks +like a monkey, but it is not a monkey." + +"It shouldn't look like a monkey, then. Here, Yib"--he always called me +Yib--"isn't this a monkey, and don't A-p-e spell monkey? Ma don't know +anything about it;" and he thrust his book into my face in an earnest, +excited manner. + +I could not longer restrain myself, and burst out laughing. Tad looked +very much offended, and I hastened to say: "I beg your pardon, Master +Tad; I hope that you will excuse my want of politeness." + +He bowed his head in a patronizing way, and returned to the original +question: "Isn't this a monkey? Don't A-p-e spell monkey?" + +"No, Tad; your mother is right. A-p-e spells ape." + +"You don't know as much as Ma. Both of you don't know anything;" and +Master Tad's eyes flashed with indignation. + +Robert entered the room, and the question was referred to him. After +many explanations, he succeeded in convincing Tad that A-p-e does not +spell monkey, and the balance of the lesson was got over with less +difficulty. + +Whenever I think of this incident I am tempted to laugh; and then it +occurs to me that had Tad been a negro boy, not the son of a President, +and so difficult to instruct, he would have been called thick-skulled, +and would have been held up as an example of the inferiority of race. I +know many full negro boys, able to read and write, who are not older +than Tad Lincoln was when he persisted that A-p-e spelt monkey. Do not +imagine that I desire to reflect upon the intellect of little Tad. Not +at all; he is a bright boy, a son that will do honor to the genius and +greatness of his father; I only mean to say that some incidents are +about as damaging to one side of the question as to the other. If a +colored boy appears dull, so does a white boy sometimes; and if a whole +race is judged by a single example of apparent dulness, another race +should be judged by a similar example. + +I returned to Washington, with Mrs. Lincoln's best wishes for my success +in business. The journey was devoid of incident. After resting a few +days, I called at the White House, and transacted some business for Mrs. +Lincoln. I had no desire to enter the house, for everything about it +bitterly reminded me of the past; and when I came out of the door, I +hoped that I had crossed the threshold for the last time. I was asked by +some of my friends if I had sent my business cards to Mr. Johnson's +family, and my answer was that I had not, as I had no desire to work for +the President's family. Mr. Johnson was no friend to Mr. Lincoln, and he +had failed to treat Mrs. Lincoln, in the hour of her greatest sorrow, +with even common courtesy. + +Having promised to make a spring trousseau for Mrs. Senator Douglas as +soon as I should return from Chicago, I called on her to meet the +engagement. She appeared pleased to see me, and in greeting me, asked, +with evident surprise: + +"Why, Keckley"--she always called me Keckley--"is this you? I did not +know you were coming back. It was reported that you designed remaining +with Mrs. Lincoln all summer." + +"Mrs. Lincoln would have been glad to have kept me with her had she been +able." + +"Able! What do you mean by that?" + +"Simply this: Already she is laboring under pecuniary embarrassment, and +was only able to pay my expenses, and allow me nothing for my time." + +"You surprise me. I thought she was left in good circumstances." + +"So many think, it appears. Mrs. Lincoln, I assure you, is now +practising the closest economy. I must do something for myself, Mrs. +Douglas, so I have come back to Washington to open my shop." + +The next day I collected my assistants, and my business went on as +usual. Orders came in more rapidly than I could fill them. One day, in +the middle of the month of June, the girl who was attending the door +came into the cutting-room, where I was hard at work: + +"Mrs. Keckley, there is a lady below, who wants to see you." + +"Who is she?" + +"I don't know. I did not learn her name." + +"Is her face familiar? Does she look like a regular customer?" + +"No, she is a stranger. I don't think she was ever here before. She came +in an open carriage, with a black woman for an attendant." + +"It may be the wife of one of Johnson's new secretaries. Do go down, +Mrs. Keckley," exclaimed my work-girls in a chorus. I went below, and on +entering the parlor, a plainly dressed lady rose to her feet, and asked: + +"Is this the dressmaker?" + +"Yes, I am a dressmaker." + +"Mrs. Keckley?" + +"Yes." + +"Mrs. Lincoln's former dressmaker, were you not?" + +"Yes, I worked for Mrs. Lincoln." + +"Are you very busy now?" + +"Very, indeed." + +"Can you do anything for me?" + +"That depends upon what is to be done, and when it is to be done." + +"Well, say one dress now, and several others a few weeks later." + +"I can make one dress for you now, but no more. I cannot finish the one +for you in less than three weeks." + +"That will answer. I am Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President +Johnson. I expect my sister, Mrs. Stover, here in three weeks, and the +dress is for her. We are both the same size, and you can fit the dress +to me." + +The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and after measuring Mrs. +Patterson, she bade me good morning, entered her carriage, and drove +away. + +When I went up-stairs into the work-room, the girls were anxious to +learn who my visitor was. + +"It was Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson," I answered, +in response to several questions. + +"What! the daughter of our good Moses. Are you going to work for her?" + +"I have taken her order." + +"I fear that Johnson will prove a poor Moses, and I would not work for +any of the family," remarked one of the girls. None of them appeared to +like Mr. Lincoln's successor. + +I finished the dress for Mrs. Patterson, and it gave satisfaction. I +afterwards learned that both Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover were +kindhearted, plain, unassuming women, making no pretensions to elegance. +One day when I called at the White House, in relation to some work that +I was doing for them, I found Mrs. Patterson busily at work with a +sewing-machine. The sight was a novel one to me for the White House, for +as long as I remained with Mrs. Lincoln, I do not recollect ever having +seen her with a needle in her hand. The last work done for the Johnsons +by me were two dresses, one for each of the sisters. Mrs. Patterson +subsequently wrote me a note, requesting me to cut and fit a dress for +her; to which I replied that I never cut and fitted work to be made up +outside of my work-room. This brought our business relations to an +abrupt end. + +The months passed, and my business prospered. I continually received +letters from Mrs. Lincoln, and as the anniversary of her husband's death +approached, she wrote in a sadder strain. Before I left Chicago she had +exacted the promise that should Congress make an appropriation for her +benefit, I must join her in the West, and go with her to visit the tomb +of the President for the first time. The appropriation was made one of +the conditions of my visit, for without relief from Congress she would +be unable to bear my expenses. The appropriation was not made; and so I +was unable to join Mrs. Lincoln at the appointed time. She wrote me that +her plan was to leave Chicago in the morning with Tad, reach Springfield +at night, stop at one of the hotels, drive out to Oak Ridge the next +day, and take the train for Chicago the same evening, thus avoiding a +meeting with any of her old friends. This plan, as she afterwards wrote +me, was carried out. When the second anniversary approached, President +Johnson and party were "swinging round the circle," and as they were to +visit Chicago, she was especially anxious to be away from the city when +they should arrive; accordingly she hurried off to Springfield, and +spent the time in weeping over the tomb where repose the hallowed ashes +of her husband. + +During all this time I was asked many questions about Mrs. Lincoln, some +prompted by friendship, but a greater number by curiosity; but my brief +answers, I fear, were not always accepted as the most satisfactory. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE ORIGIN OF THE RIVALRY BETWEEN MR. DOUGLAS AND MR. LINCOLN + + +Mrs. Lincoln from her girlhood up had an ambition to become the wife of +a President. When a little girl, as I was told by one of her sisters, +she was disposed to be a little noisy at times, and was self-willed. One +day she was romping about the room, making more noise than the nerves of +her grandmother could stand. The old lady looked over her spectacles, +and said, in a commanding tone: + +"Sit down, Mary. Do be quiet. What on earth do you suppose will become +of you if you go on this way?" + +"Oh, I will be the wife of a President some day," carelessly answered +the petted child. + +Mrs. Lincoln, as Miss Mary Todd, was quite a belle in Springfield, +Illinois, and from all accounts she was fond of flirting. She generally +managed to keep a half-dozen gentlemen biting at the hook that she +baited so temptingly for them. The world, if I mistake not, are not +aware that the rivalry between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Stephen A. Douglas +commenced over the hand of Miss Mary Todd. The young lady was ambitious, +and she smiled more sweetly upon Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lincoln than any of +her other admirers, as they were regarded as rising men. She played her +part so well that neither of the rivals for a long time could tell who +would win the day. Mr. Douglas first proposed for her hand, and she +discarded him. The young man urged his suit boldly: + +"Mary, you do not know what you are refusing. You have always had an +ambition to become the wife of a President of the United States. Pardon +the egotism, but I fear that in refusing my hand to-night you have +thrown away your best chance to ever rule in the White House." + +"I do not understand you, Mr. Douglas." + +"Then I will speak more plainly. You know, Mary, that I am ambitious +like yourself, and something seems to whisper in my ear, 'You will be +President some day.' Depend upon it, I shall make a stubborn fight to +win the proud position." + +"You have my best wishes, Mr. Douglas; still I cannot consent to be your +wife. I shall become Mrs. President, or I am the victim of false +prophets, but it will not be as Mrs. Douglas." + +I have this little chapter in a romantic history from the lips of Mrs. +Lincoln herself. + +At one of the receptions at the White House, shortly after the first +inauguration, Mrs. Lincoln joined in the promenade with Senator Douglas. +He was holding a bouquet that had been presented to her, and as they +moved along he said: + +"Mary, it reminds me of old times to have you lean upon my arm." + +"You refer to the days of our youth. I must do you the credit, Mr. +Douglas, to say, that you were a gallant beau." + +"Not only a beau, but a lover. Do you remember the night our flirtation +was brought to an end?" + +"Distinctly. You now see that I was right. I am Mrs. President, but not +Mrs. Douglas." + +"True, you have reached the goal before me, but I do not despair. Mrs. +Douglas--a nobler woman does not live--if I am spared, may possibly +succeed you as Mrs. President." + +A few evenings after Mr. Douglas had been discarded, Mr. Lincoln made a +formal proposal for the hand of Miss Todd, but it appears that the young +lady was not willing to capitulate at once. She believed that she could +send her lover adrift to-day and win him back to-morrow. + +"You are bold, Mr. Lincoln." + +"Love makes me bold." + +"You honor me, pardon me, but I cannot consent to be your wife." + +"Is this your final answer, Miss Todd?" and the suitor rose nervously to +his feet. + +"I do not often jest, Mr. Lincoln. Why should I reconsider to-morrow my +decision of to-day." + +"Excuse me. Your answer is sufficient. I was led to hope that I might +become dearer to you than a friend, but the hope, it seems, has proved +an idle one. I have the honor to say good night, Miss Todd," and pale, +yet calm, Mr. Lincoln bowed himself out of the room. + +He rushed to his office in a frantic state of mind. Dr. Henry, his most +intimate friend, happened to come in, and was surprised to see the young +lawyer walking the floor in an agitated manner. + +"What is the matter, Lincoln? You look desperate." + +"Matter! I am sick of the world. It is a heartless, deceitful world, and +I care not how soon I am out of it." + +"You rave. What has happened? Have you been quarrelling with your +sweetheart?" + +"Quarrel! I wish to God it was a quarrel, for then I could look forward +to reconciliation; the girl has refused to become my wife, after leading +me to believe that she loved me. She is a heartless coquette." + +"Don't give up the conquest so easily. Cheer up, man, you may succeed +yet. Perhaps she is only testing your love." + +"No! I believe that she is going to marry Douglas. If she does I will +blow my brains out." + +"Nonsense! That would not mend matters. Your brains were given to you +for different use. Come, we will go to your room now. Go to bed and +sleep on the question, and you will get up feeling stronger to-morrow;" +and Dr. Henry took the arm of his friend Lincoln, led him home, and saw +him safely in bed. + +The next morning the doctor called at Mr. Lincoln's room, and found that +his friend had passed a restless night. Excitement had brought on fever, +which threatened to assume a violent form, as the cause of the +excitement still remained. Several days passed, and Mr. Lincoln was +confined to his bed. Dr. Henry at once determined to call on Miss Todd, +and find out how desperate the case was. Miss Todd was glad to see him, +and she was deeply distressed to learn that Mr. Lincoln was ill. She +wished to go to him at once, but the Doctor reminded her that she was +the cause of his illness. She frankly acknowledged her folly, saying +that she only desired to test the sincerity of Mr. Lincoln's love, that +he was the idol of her heart, and that she would become his wife. + +The Doctor returned with joyful news to his patient. The intelligence +proved the best remedy for the disease. Mutual explanations followed, +and in a few months Mr. Lincoln led Miss Todd to the altar in triumph. + +I learned these facts from Dr. Henry and Mrs. Lincoln. I believe them to +be facts, and as such have recorded them. They do not agree with Mr. +Herndon's story, that Mr. Lincoln never loved but one woman, and that +woman was Ann Rutledge; but then Mr. Herndon's story must be looked upon +as a pleasant piece of fiction. When it appeared, Mrs. Lincoln felt +shocked that one who pretended to be the friend of her dead husband +should deliberately seek to blacken his memory. Mr. Lincoln was far too +honest a man to marry a woman that he did not love. He was a kind and an +indulgent husband, and when he saw faults in his wife he excused them as +he would excuse the impulsive acts of a child. In fact, Mrs. Lincoln was +never more pleased than when the President called her his child-wife. + +Before closing this rambling chapter I desire to refer to another +incident. + +After the death of my son, Miss Mary Welsh, a dear friend, one of my old +St. Louis patrons, called to see me, and on broaching the cause of my +grief, she condoled with me. She knew that I had looked forward to the +day when my son would be a support to me--knew that he was to become the +prop and main-stay of my old age, and knowing this, she advised me to +apply for a pension. I disliked the idea very much, and told her +so--told her that I did not want to make money out of his death. She +explained away all of my objections--argued that Congress had made an +appropriation for the specific purpose of giving a pension to every +widow who should lose an only son in the war, and insisted that I should +have my rights. She was so enthusiastic in the matter that she went to +see Hon. Owen Lovejoy, then a member of the House from Illinois, and +laid my case before him. Mr. Lovejoy was very kind, and said as I was +entitled to the pension, I should have it, even if he had to bring the +subject before Congress. I did not desire public agitation, and Mr. +Lovejoy prepared my claim and laid it before the Commissioners. In the +meantime he left Washington, and Mr. Joseph Lovejoy, his brother, +prosecuted the claim for me, and finally succeeded in securing me a +pension of eight dollars per month. Mr. Joseph Lovejoy was inclined to +the Democratic party, and he pressed my claim with great earnestness; he +hoped that the claim would not be allowed, as he said the rejection of +it would make capital for his party. Nevertheless the pension was +granted, and I am none the less thankful to Mr. Joseph Lovejoy for his +kindness to me, and interest in my welfare. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +OLD FRIENDS + + +In order to introduce a pleasant chapter of my life, I must take a +slight retrospective glance. Mrs. Ann[e] Garland, the mistress from whom +I purchased my freedom in St. Louis, had five daughters, all lovely, +attractive girls. I used to take pride in dressing the two eldest, Miss +Mary and Miss Carrie, for parties. Though the family labored under +pecuniary embarrassment, I worked for these two young girls, and they +were always able to present a good appearance in society. They were much +admired, and both made the best matches of the season. Miss Mary married +Dr. Pappan, and Miss Carrie, Dr. John Farrow. I loved them both +tenderly, and they were warmly attached to me. Both are now dead, and +when the death-film was gathering in the eyes, each called for me and +asked to die in my arms. Miss Carrie did not long survive her sister, +and I wept many tears over the death-beds of the two lovely flowers that +had blossomed so sweetly beneath my eyes. Each breathed her last in the +arms that had sheltered them so often in the bright rosy period of life. +My mother took care of my son, and Miss Nannie Garland, the fourth +daughter, when a wee thing, became my especial charge. She slept in my +bed, and I watched over her as if she had been my own child. She called +me Yiddie, and I could not have loved her more tenderly had she been the +sister of my unfortunate boy. She was about twelve years old when I +purchased my freedom, and resigned my charge to other hands. After Mr. +Garland's death, the widow moved to Vicksburg, Mississippi, and I lost +sight of the family for a few years. My mother accompanied them to +Vicksburg, where she died. I made two visits to Vicksburg as a free +woman, the object of my second visit being to look after the few +effects left by my mother. As I did not visit my mother's grave at the +time, the Garlands were much surprised, but I offered no explanation. +The reason is not difficult to understand. My mother was buried in a +public ground, and the marks of her grave, as I learned, were so obscure +that the spot could not be readily designated. To look upon a grave, and +not feel certain whose ashes repose beneath the sod, is painful, and the +doubt which mystifies you, weakens the force, if not the purity, of the +love-offering from the heart. Memory preserved a sunny picture of my +mother's face, and I did not wish to weave sombre threads--threads +suggestive of a deserted grave-yard--into it, and thus impair its +beauty. After spending a few weeks with the family, I returned to St. +Louis, and then came North. The war broke out, and I lost all trace of +the Garlands. Often, during my residence in Washington, I recalled the +past, and wondered what had become of those who claimed my first duty +and my first love. When I would mention their names and express interest +in their welfare, my Northern friends would roll up their eyes in +surprise. + +"Why, Lizzie, how can you have a kind thought for those who inflicted a +terrible wrong upon you by keeping you in bondage?" they would ask. + +"You forget the past is dear to every one, for to the past belongs that +golden period, the days of childhood. The past is a mirror that reflects +the chief incidents of my life. To surrender it is to surrender the +greatest part of my existence--early impressions, friends, and the +graves of my father, my mother, and my son. These people are associated +with everything that memory holds dear, and so long as memory proves +faithful, it is but natural that I should sigh to see them once more." + +"But they have forgotten you. They are too selfish to give a single +thought to you, now that you no longer are their slave." + +"Perhaps so, but I cannot believe it. You do not know the Southern +people as well as I do--how warm is the attachment between master and +slave." + +My Northern friends could not understand the feeling, therefore +explanation was next to useless. They would listen with impatience, and +remark at the close, with a shrug of the shoulders, "You have some +strange notions, Lizzie." + +In the fall of 1865 a lady called on me at my apartments in Washington. +Her face looked familiar, but I could not place her. When I entered the +room, she came towards me eagerly: + +"You are surprised to see me, I know. I am just from Lynchburg, and when +I left cousin Ann[e] I promised to call and see you if I came to +Washington. I am here, you see, according to promise." + +I was more bewildered than ever. + +"Cousin Ann[e]! Pardon me--" + +"Oh, I see you do not recognize me. I am Mrs. General Longstreet, but +you knew me when a girl as Bettie Garland." + +"Bettie Garland! And is this indeed you? I am so glad to see you. Where +does Miss Ann[e] live now?" I always called my last mistress, Miss +Ann[e]. + +"Ah! I thought you could not forget old friends. Cousin Ann[e] is living +in Lynchburg. All the family are in Virginia. They moved to the old +State during the war. Fannie is dead. Nannie has grown into a woman and +is married to General Meem. Hugh was killed in the war, and now only +Spot, Maggie, and Nannie are left." + +"Fannie, dead! and poor Hugh! You bring sad news as well as pleasant. +And so my little pet is married? I can hardly believe it; she was only a +child when I saw her last." + +"Yes, Nannie is married to a noble man. General Meem belongs to one of +the best families in Virginia. They are now living at Rude's Hill, up +beyond Winchester, in the Shenandoah Valley. All of them want to see you +very badly." + +"I should be delighted to go to them. Miss Bettie, I can hardly realize +that you are the wife of General Longstreet; and just think, you are now +sitting in the very chair and the very room where Mrs. Lincoln has often +sat!" + +She laughed: "The change is a great one, Lizzie; we little dream to-day +what to-morrow will bring forth. Well, we must take a philosophical view +of life. After fighting so long against the Yankees, General Longstreet +is now in Washington, sueing for pardon, and we propose to live in +peace with the United States again." + +I had many questions to ask her about old friends, and the time passed +rapidly. She greeted me with the frankness that she had always extended +to me, and I was transported to days of the long-ago. Her stay in +Washington was brief, as the General arranged his business, and they +left the capital the next day. + +Mrs. Longstreet gave me the Garlands' address, and I wrote to them, +expressing the hope that I would be able to see them before long. In +reply came letters full of tender sympathy and affection. In the winter +of 1865, Miss Nannie wrote to me that she had the best husband in the +world; that they designed going to housekeeping in the spring, and that +they would be glad to have me make them a visit in July, 1866. She sent +me a pressing invitation. "You must come to me, dear Lizzie," she wrote. +"We are now living at Rude's Hill. I am dying to see you. Ma, Maggie, +Spot, and Minnie, sister Mary's child, are with me, and you only are +needed to make the circle complete. Come; I will not take no for an +answer." + +I was anxious to go myself, and when I received the urgent invitation I +concluded to go at once, and I wrote them to expect me in August. On the +10th of August I left Washington for Virginia, taking the train for +Harper's Ferry. The journey was attended with several disappointments. +We arrived at Harper's Ferry in the night, and being asleep at the time, +I was carried to the station beyond, where I had to wait and take the +return train. After returning to Harper's Ferry, where I changed cars +for Winchester, I missed the train, and was detained another day. From +Winchester the only way to reach Rude's Hill was by a line of stages. We +commenced the weary drive in the evening, and rode all night. A young +gentleman in the stage said that he knew General Meem well, and that he +would tell me when we reached the place. Relying upon him, I went to +sleep, and it appears that the polite young gentleman followed my +example. About four o'clock in the morning one of the passengers shook +me, and asked: + +"Aunty, don't you want to get out at Rude's Hill?" + +I started up, rubbing my eyes. "Yes. Are we there?" + +"More than there. We have passed it." + +"Passed it!" + +"Yes. It is six miles back. You should not sleep so soundly, Aunty." + +"Why _did_ you not tell me sooner? I am _so_ anxious to be there." + +"Fact is, I forgot it. Never mind. Get out at this village, and you can +find conveyance back." + +The village, New Market, was in a dilapidated condition; everything +about it spoke plainly of the sad destruction of war. Getting out of the +stage I went into a house, by courtesy named a hotel, where I obtained a +cup of coffee. + +"Is there no conveyance from here to Rude's Hill?" I asked. + +"Yes; the stage returns this evening," answered the landlord. + +"This evening! I want to go as soon as possible. I should die if I had +to stay all day in this lonely place." + +A colored man behind the bar, seeing how earnest I was, came forward, +and informed me that he would drive me over to General Meem's place in +an hour. This was joyful news, and I urged him to get ready to start as +soon as possible. + +While standing in the door of the hotel, impatiently waiting for my +colored friend to drive round with his little wagon, a fat old lady +waddled across the street and greeted me. + +"Ain't you Lizzie?" + +"Yes," I answered, surprised that she should know my name. + +"I thought so. They have been expecting you at Rude's Hill every day for +two weeks, and they do but little but talk about you. Mrs. Meem was in +town yesterday, and she said that she expected you this week certain. +They will be mighty glad to see you. Why, will you believe it! they +actually have kept a light burning in the front window every night for +ten nights, in order that you might not go by the place should you +arrive in the night." + +"Thank you. It is pleasant to know that I am expected. I fell asleep in +the stage, and failed to see the light, so am here instead of at Rude's +Hill." + +Just then the colored man drove up with the wagon, and I got in with +him, and was soon on the road to General Meem's country-seat. + +As we drove up to Rude's Hill, I observed a young man standing in the +yard, and believing it to be Spot, whom I had not seen for eight years, +I beckoned to him. With an exclamation of joy, he came running towards +me. His movements attracted the attention of the family, and in a minute +the door was crowded with anxious, inquiring faces. "It is Lizzie! It is +Lizzie!" was the happy cry from all parties. In my eagerness to get to +them, I stepped from the wagon to the top of the stile, intending to +make a triumphant leap into the yard; but, alas! my exultation was +brief. My hoop-skirt caught on one of the posts, and I fell sprawling +into the yard. Spot reached me first and picked me up, only to put me +into the arms of Miss Nannie, her sister Maggie, and Mrs. Garland. Could +my friends of the North have seen that meeting, they would never have +doubted again that the mistress had any affection for her former slave. +I was carried to the house in triumph. In the parlor I was divested of +my things, and placed in an easy-chair before a bright fire. The +servants looked on in amazement. + +"Lizzie, you are not changed a bit. You look as young as when you left +us in St. Louis, years ago," and Mrs. Meem, my foster child, kissed me +again. + +"Here, Lizzie, this is Minnie, Minnie Pappan, sister Mary's child. +Hasn't she grown?" and Miss Maggie led a tall, queenly lady up to me. + +"Minnie! Poor dear Miss Mary's child! I can hardly believe it. She was +only a baby when I saw her last. It makes me feel old to see how large +she has grown. Miss Minnie, you are larger than--your mother was--your +dear mother whom I held in my arms when she died;" and I brushed a tear +from each of my eyes. + +"Have you had your breakfast, Lizzie?" asked Mrs. Garland. + +"No, she has not," exclaimed her children in a chorus. "I will get her +breakfast for her," and Nannie, Maggie, and Minnie started for the +kitchen. + +"It is not necessary that all should go," said Mrs. Garland. "Here is +the cook, she will get breakfast ready." + +But the three did not heed her. All rushed to the kitchen, and soon +brought me a nice hot breakfast. + +While I was eating, the cook remarked: "I declar, I nebber did see +people carry on so. Wonder if I should go off and stay two or three +years, if all ob you wud hug and kiss me so when I cum back?" + +After I had finished my breakfast, General Meem came in. He greeted me +warmly. "Lizzie, I am very glad to see you. I feel that you are an old +acquaintance, I have heard so much of you through my wife, her sister, +and her mother. Welcome to Rude's Hill." + +I was much pleased with his appearance, and closer acquaintance proved +him to be a model gentleman. + +Rude's Hill, during the war, was once occupied by General Stonewall +Jackson for his head-quarters, which gave more than ordinary interest to +the place. The location was delightful, but the marks of war could be +seen everywhere on the plantation. General Meem was engaged in planting, +and he employed a large number of servants to assist him in his work. +About a mile from Rude's Hill was Mount Airy, the elegant country-seat +of the General's brother. The two families visited each other a great +deal, and as both entertained plenty of company, the Autumn months +passed pleasantly. I was comfortably quartered at Rude's Hill, and was +shown every attention. We sewed together, talking of old times, and +every day either drove out, or rode on horseback. The room in which I +sat in the daytime was the room that General Jackson always slept in, +and people came from far and near to look at it. General Jackson was the +ideal soldier of the Southern people, and they worshipped him as an +idol. Every visitor would tear a splinter from the walls or windows of +the room, to take away and treasure as a priceless relic. + +It did not take me long to discover that I was an object of great +curiosity in the neighborhood. My association with Mrs. Lincoln, and my +attachment for the Garlands, whose slave I had once been, clothed me +with romantic interest. + +Colonel Harry Gilmore, well known as a partisan leader in Maryland and +Virginia during the war, was a frequent visitor at Mount Airy and Rude's +Hill. One day I accompanied a party to a tournament, and General Meem +laughed pleasantly over the change that had come to me in so short a +time. + +"Why, Lizzie, you are riding with Colonel Gilmore. Just think of the +change from Lincoln to Gilmore! It sounds like a dream. But then the +change is an evidence of the peaceful feeling of this country; a change, +I trust, that augurs brighter days for us all." + +I had many long talks with Mrs. Garland, in one of which I asked what +had become of the only sister of my mother, formerly maid to Mrs. G's +mother. + +"She is dead, Lizzie. Has been dead for some years. A maid in the old +time meant something different from what we understand by a maid at the +present time. Your aunt used to scrub the floor and milk a cow now and +then, as well as attend to the orders of my mother. My mother was severe +with her slaves in some respects, but then her heart was full of +kindness. She had your aunt punished one day, and not liking her +sorrowful look, she made two extravagant promises in order to effect a +reconciliation, both of which were accepted. On condition that her maid +would look cheerful, and be good and friendly with her, the mistress +told her she might go to church the following Sunday, and that she would +give her a silk dress to wear on the occasion. Now my mother had but one +silk dress in the world, silk not being so plenty in those days as it is +now, and yet she gave this dress to her maid to make friends with her. +Two weeks afterward mother was sent for to spend the day at a neighbor's +house, and on inspecting her wardrobe, discovered that she had no dress +fit to wear in company. She had but one alternative, and that was to +appeal to the generosity of your aunt Charlotte. Charlotte was summoned, +and enlightened in regard to the situation; the maid proffered to loan +the silk dress to her mistress for the occasion, and the mistress was +only too glad to accept. She made her appearance at the social +gathering, duly arrayed in the silk that her maid had worn to church on +the preceding Sunday." + +We laughed over the incident, when Mrs. Garland said: "Lizzie, during +the entire war I used to think of you every day, and have longed to see +you so much. When we heard you were with Mrs. Lincoln, the people used +to tell me that I was foolish to think of ever seeing you again--that +your head must be completely turned. But I knew your heart, and could +not believe that you would forget us. I always argued that you would +come and see us some day." + +"You judged me rightly, Miss Ann[e]. How could I forget you whom I had +grown up with from infancy. Northern people used to tell me that you +would forget me, but I told them I knew better, and hoped on." + +"Ah! love is too strong to be blown away like gossamer threads. The +chain is strong enough to bind life even to the world beyond the grave. +Do you always feel kindly towards me, Lizzie?" + +"To tell you candidly, Miss Ann[e], I have but one unkind thought, and +that is, that you did not give me the advantages of a good education. +What I have learned has been the study of after years." + +"You are right. I did not look at things then as I do now. I have always +regretted that you were not educated when a girl. But you have not +suffered much on this score, since you get along in the world better +than we who enjoyed every educational advantage in childhood." + +I remained five weeks at Rude's Hill, and they were five of the most +delightful weeks of my life. I designed going direct to Richmond, but +the cholera was reported to be raging in that city, so I took the train +for Baltimore. In Baltimore I stopped with Mrs. Annette Jordan. Mrs. +Garland had given me a letter to Mrs. Douglas Gordon, who introduced me +to several Baltimore ladies, among others Mrs. Doctor Thomas, who said +to me, with tears in her eyes: "Lizzie, you deserve to meet with success +for having been so kind to our friends in the days of the past. I wish +there were more women in the world like you. I will always do what +little I can to promote your welfare." + +After remaining in Baltimore a few days, I came to the conclusion that I +could do better in Washington; so I returned to the capital, and +reopened my business. + +In the spring of 1867, Miss Maggie Garland paid a visit to Baltimore. +Before leaving Virginia she said to some of her friends in Lynchburg +that she designed going by Washington to see Lizzie. Her friends +ridiculed the idea, but she persisted: + +"I love Lizzie next to mother. She has been a mother to us all. Half the +pleasure of my visit is that I will be able to see her." + +She wrote me a letter, saying that she designed visiting me, asking if +it would be agreeable. I replied, "Yes, come by all means. I shall be so +glad to see you." + +She came and stayed at my rooms, and expressed surprise to find me so +comfortably fixed. + +I can not do better than conclude this chapter with two letters from my +dear young friends, the first from Mrs. General Meem, and the second +from Miss Maggie Garland. These letters show the goodness of their +hearts and the frankness of their natures. I trust that they will not +object to the publicity that I give them: + + "RUDE'S HILL, Sept. 14, 1867. + + "MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am nearly ashamed of myself for + neglecting to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, and the + very acceptable box of patterns, some weeks ago; but you will + pardon my remissness, I know, for you can imagine what a busy + time I've had all summer, with a house full of company most + of the time, and with very inefficient servants, and in some + departments _none at all_; so I have had to be at times + dining-room servant, house-maid, and the last and most + difficult, dairy-maid. But I have turned that department over + to our gardener, who, though as green at the business as + myself, seems willing to learn, and has been doing the + milking all summer. These are a _few_ of the reasons why I + have not written to you before, for I hope you will always + believe that you occupy a large place in my memory and + affection, whether I write to you or not; and such a poor + correspondent as yourself ought not to complain. Mother, Mag, + Uncle John, and Spot are still with us; the former will pass + the winter with me, but the others all talk of leaving before + long. The approach of winter always scatters our guests, and + we have to spend the long, dreary winters alone. But we are + to have the railroad to Mt. Jackson by Christmas, perhaps + sooner; and then, if we can raise the wind, we can spend a + portion of the winter in the city, and I hope you will find + time to come up and _spend the day_ with me, as we will be + near neighbors. I so seldom indulge in the pleasant task of + writing letters that I scarcely know what will interest my + correspondent, but I flatter myself that _you_ will be glad + to hear anything and everything about us all, so I'll begin + with the children. Hugh has improved a great deal, and is + acknowledged to be the smartest child and the finest looking + in the State; he talks as plainly as I do, and just as + understandingly as a child of ten years old; his nurse often + says we need not set our hearts on that child, he is too + smart ever to be raised; but I trust his _badness_ will save + him, for he is terribly spoilt, as such interesting children + are bound to be. Miss Eliza, no longer called _Jane_, is + getting to be a little 'star girl,' as her Papa calls her; + she is just learning to walk, and says a good many words + quite plainly. You would never take her for the same little + _cry-baby_ of last summer, and she is a little beauty too--as + white as the driven snow, with the most beautiful blue eyes, + and long, dark lashes you ever saw. She will set _somebody_ + crazy if she grows up to be as lovely as she now promises to + be. My dear good husband has been, like myself, run to death + this summer; but it agrees with him, and I never saw him + looking better. He has fallen off a little, which is a great + improvement, I think. He often speaks of you, and wonders if + you were sufficiently pleased with your visit last summer to + repeat it. I hope so, for we will always be glad to welcome + you to Rude's Hill, whenever you have time to come; provided, + of course, you have the wish also. Spot expects to hang out + his shingle in St. Louis next winter. His health is greatly + improved, though he is still very thin, and very, very much + like dear father. Mag has promised to teach a little cousin + of ours, who lives in Nelson County, until February, and will + leave here in two weeks to commence her labors. I hate to see + her leave, but she is bent on it, and our winters are so + unattractive that I do not like to insist on her shutting + herself up all winter with three old people. She will have + very pleasant society at Cousin Buller's, and will perhaps + spend the rest of the winter with Aunt Pris, if Uncle + Armistead remains in Binghampton, New York, as he talks of + doing. Do write to me before you get too busy with your fall + and winter work; I am so anxious to hear all your plans, and + about your stay in New York. By the by, I will have to + direct this to Washington, as I do not know your New York + address. I suppose your friends will forward it. If you are + going to remain any length of time in New York, send me your + address, and I will write again. * * I have somehow made out + a long letter, though there is not much in it, and I hope you + will do the same before long. _All_ send love. + + "Yours affectionately, + "N. R. G. MEEM. + + "My pen and ink are both so wretched that I fear you will + find some difficulty in making out this scratch; but _put on + your specks_, and what you can't read, just guess at. I + enclose a very poor likeness of Hugh taken last spring; don't + show it to anybody, for I assure you there is scarcely the + faintest resemblance to him now in it. + + "N. R. G. M." + +I give only a few extracts from the pleasant letter from Miss Maggie +Garland. The reader will observe that she signs herself "Your child, +Mag," an expression of love warmly appreciated by me: + + "SEDDES, Dec. 17, 1867. + + "So many months have passed, my dear Lizzie, since I was + cheered by a sight of your welcome handwriting, that I must + find out what is the matter, and see if I can't persuade you + to write me a few lines. Whatever comes, 'weal or woe,' you + know I shall always love you, and I have no idea of letting + you forget me; so just make up your mind to write me a nice + long letter, and tell me what you are doing with yourself + this cold weather. I am buried in the wilds of Amherst, and + the cold, chilling blasts of December come whistling around, + and tell us plainly that the reign of the snow-king has begun + in good earnest. Since October I have been teaching for my + cousin, Mr. Claiborne, and although I am very happy, and + every one is so kind to me, I shall not be sorry when the day + comes when I shall shut up school-books forever. None of + 'Miss Ann[e]'s' children were cut out for 'school-marms,' + were they, Yiddie? I am sure I was only made to ride in my + carriage, and play on the piano. Don't you think so? * * * + You must write me where you are, so I can stop and see you on + my way North; for you know, dear Lizzie, no one can take your + place in my heart. I expect to spend the Christmas holidays + in Lynchburg. It will be very gay there, and I will be glad + enough to take a good dance. This is a short letter to send + you after such a long silence, but 'tis too cold to write. + Let me hear from you very soon. + + "Your child MAG. + + "Please write, for I long to hear from you." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SECRET HISTORY OF MRS. LINCOLN'S WARDROBE IN NEW YORK + + +In March, 1867, Mrs. Lincoln wrote to me from Chicago that, as her +income was insufficient to meet her expenses, she would be obliged to +give up her house in the city, and return to boarding. She said that she +had struggled long enough to keep up appearances, and that the mask must +be thrown aside. "I have not the means," she wrote, "to meet the +expenses of even a first-class boarding-house, and must sell out and +secure cheap rooms at some place in the country. It will not be +startling news to you, my dear Lizzie, to learn that I must sell a +portion of my wardrobe to add to my resources, so as to enable me to +live decently, for you remember what I told you in Washington, as well +as what you understood before you left me here in Chicago. I cannot live +on $1,700 a year, and as I have many costly things which I shall never +wear, I might as well turn them into money, and thus add to my income, +and make my circumstances easier. It is humiliating to be placed in such +a position, but, as I am in the position, I must extricate myself as +best I can. Now, Lizzie, I want to ask a favor of you. It is imperative +that I should do something for my relief, and I want you to meet me in +New York, between the 30th of August and the 5th of September next, to +assist me in disposing of a portion of my wardrobe." + +I knew that Mrs. Lincoln's income was small, and also knew that she had +many valuable dresses, which could be of no value to her, packed away in +boxes and trunks. I was confident that she would never wear the dresses +again, and thought that, since her need was urgent, it would be well +enough to dispose of them quietly, and believed that New York was the +best place to transact a delicate business of the kind. She was the wife +of Abraham Lincoln, the man who had done so much for my race, and I +could refuse to do nothing for her, calculated to advance her interests. +I consented to render Mrs. Lincoln all the assistance in my power, and +many letters passed between us in regard to the best way to proceed. It +was finally arranged that I should meet her in New York about the middle +of September. While thinking over this question, I remembered an +incident of the White House. When we were packing up to leave Washington +for Chicago, she said to me, one morning: + +"Lizzie, I may see the day when I shall be obliged to sell a portion of +my wardrobe. If Congress does not do something for me, then my dresses +some day may have to go to bring food into my mouth, and the mouths of +my children." + +I also remembered of Mrs. L. having said to me at different times, in +the years of 1863 and '4, that her expensive dresses might prove of +great assistance to her some day. + +"In what way, Mrs. Lincoln? I do not understand," I ejaculated, the +first time she made the remark to me. + +"Very simple to understand. Mr. Lincoln is so generous that he will not +save anything from his salary, and I expect that we will leave the White +House poorer than when we came into it; and should such be the case, I +will have no further need for an expensive wardrobe, and it will be +policy to sell it off." + +I thought at the time that Mrs. Lincoln was borrowing trouble from the +future, and little dreamed that the event which she so dimly +foreshadowed would ever come to pass. + +I closed my business about the 10th of September, and made every +arrangement to leave Washington on the mission proposed. On the 15th of +September I received a letter from Mrs. Lincoln, postmarked Chicago, +saying that she should leave the city so as to reach New York on the +night of the 17th, and directing me to precede her to the metropolis, +and secure rooms for her at the St. Denis Hotel in the name of Mrs. +Clarke, as her visit was to be _incog._ The contents of the letter were +startling to me. I had never heard of the St. Denis, and therefore +presumed that it could not be a first-class house. And I could not +understand why Mrs. Lincoln should travel, without protection, under an +assumed name. I knew that it would be impossible for me to engage rooms +at a strange hotel for a person whom the proprietors knew nothing about. +I could not write to Mrs. Lincoln, since she would be on the road to New +York before a letter could possibly reach Chicago. I could not telegraph +her, for the business was of too delicate a character to be trusted to +the wires that would whisper the secret to every curious operator along +the line. In my embarrassment, I caught at a slender thread of hope, and +tried to derive consolation from it. I knew Mrs. Lincoln to be +indecisive about some things, and I hoped that she might change her mind +in regard to the strange programme proposed, and at the last moment +despatch me to this effect. The 16th, and then the 17th of September +passed, and no despatch reached me, so on the 18th I made all haste to +take the train for New York. After an anxious ride, I reached the city +in the evening, and when I stood alone in the streets of the great +metropolis, my heart sank within me. I was in an embarrassing situation, +and scarcely knew how to act. I did not know where the St. Denis Hotel +was, and was not certain that I should find Mrs. Lincoln there after I +should go to it. I walked up to Broadway, and got into a stage going up +town, with the intention of keeping a close look-out for the hotel in +question. A kind-looking gentleman occupied the seat next to me, and I +ventured to inquire of him: + +"If you please, sir, can you tell me where the St. Denis Hotel is?" + +"Yes; we ride past it in the stage. I will point it out to you when we +come to it." + +"Thank you, sir." + +The stage rattled up the street, and after a while the gentleman looked +out of the window and said: + +"This is the St. Denis. Do you wish to get out here?" + +"Thank you. Yes, sir." + +He pulled the strap, and the next minute I was standing on the pavement. +I pulled a bell at the ladies' entrance to the hotel, and a boy coming +to the door, I asked: + +"Is a lady by the name of Mrs. Clarke stopping here? She came last +night, I believe." + +"I do not know. I will ask at the office;" and I was left alone. + +The boy came back and said: + +"Yes, Mrs. Clarke is here. Do you want to see her?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, just walk round there. She is down here now." + +I did not know where "round there" exactly was, but I concluded to go +forward. + +I stopped, however, thinking that the lady might be in the parlor with +company; and pulling out a card, asked the boy to take it to her. She +heard me talking, and came into the hall to see herself. + +"My dear Lizzie, I am so glad to see you," she exclaimed, coming forward +and giving me her hand. "I have just received your note"--I had written +her that I should join her on the 18th--"and have been trying to get a +room for you. Your note has been here all day, but it was never +delivered until to-night. Come in here, until I find out about your +room;" and she led me into the office. + +The clerk, like all modern hotel clerks, was exquisitely arrayed, highly +perfumed, and too self-important to be obliging, or even courteous. + +"This is the woman I told you about. I want a good room for her," Mrs. +Lincoln said to the clerk. + +"We have no room for her, madam," was the pointed rejoinder. + +"But she must have a room. She is a friend of mine, and I want a room +for her adjoining mine." + +"We have no room for her on your floor." + +"That is strange, sir. I tell you that she is a friend of mine, and I am +sure you could not give a room to a more worthy person." + +"Friend of yours, or not, I tell you we have no room for her on your +floor. I can find a place for her on the fifth floor." + +"That, sir, I presume, will be a vast improvement on my room. Well, if +she goes to the fifth floor, I shall go too, sir. What is good enough +for her is good enough for me." + +"Very well, madam. Shall I give you adjoining rooms, and send your +baggage up?" + +"Yes, and have it done in a hurry. Let the boy show us up. Come, +Elizabeth," and Mrs. L. turned from the clerk with a haughty glance, and +we commenced climbing the stairs. I thought we should never reach the +top; and when we did reach the fifth story, what accommodations! Little +three-cornered rooms, scantily furnished. I never expected to see the +widow of President Lincoln in such dingy, humble quarters. + +"How provoking!" Mrs. Lincoln exclaimed, sitting down on a chair when we +had reached the top, and panting from the effects of the climbing. "I +declare, I never saw such unaccommodating people. Just to think of them +sticking us away up here in the attic. I will give them a regular going +over in the morning." + +"But you forget. They do not know you. Mrs. Lincoln would be treated +differently from Mrs. Clarke." + +"True, I do forget. Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with the +annoyances. Why did you not come to me yesterday, Lizzie? I was almost +crazy when I reached here last night, and found you had not arrived. I +sat down and wrote you a note--I felt so badly--imploring you to come to +me immediately." + +This note was afterwards sent to me from Washington. It reads as +follows: + + ST. DENIS HOTEL, BROADWAY, N.Y. + + "Wednesday, Sept. 17th. + + "MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I arrived _here_ last evening in utter + despair _at not_ finding you. I am frightened to death, being + here alone. Come, I pray you, by _next_ train. Inquire for + + "MRS. CLARKE, + "Room 94, 5th or 6th Story. + + * * * * * + + "House so crowded could not get another spot. I wrote you + especially to meet me here last evening; it makes me wild to + think of being here alone. Come by _next train_, without + fail. + + "Your friend, + "MRS. LINCOLN. + + * * * * * + + "I am booked Mrs. Clarke; inquire for _no other person_. + _Come, come, come._ I will pay your expenses when you arrive + here. I shall not leave here or change my room until you + come. + + "Your friend, M. L. + + "Do not leave this house without seeing me. + + "_Come!_" + +I transcribe the letter literally. + +In reply to Mrs. Lincoln's last question, I explained what has already +been explained to the reader, that I was in hope she would change her +mind, and knew that it would be impossible to secure the rooms requested +for a person unknown to the proprietors or attaches of the hotel. + +The explanation seemed to satisfy her. Turning to me suddenly, she +exclaimed: + +"You have not had your dinner, Lizzie, and must be hungry. I nearly +forgot about it in the joy of seeing you. You must go down to the table +right away." + +She pulled the bell-rope, and a servant appearing, she ordered him to +give me my dinner. I followed him down-stairs, and he led me into the +dining-hall, and seated me at a table in one corner of the room. I was +giving my order, when the steward came forward and gruffly said: + +"You are in the wrong room." + +"I was brought here by the waiter," I replied. + +"It makes no difference; I will find you another place where you can eat +your dinner." + +I got up from the table and followed him, and when outside of the door, +said to him: + +"It is very strange that you should permit me to be seated at the table +in the dining-room only for the sake of ordering me to leave it the next +moment." + +"Are you not Mrs. Clarke's servant?" was his abrupt question. + +"I am with Mrs. Clarke." + +"It is all the same; servants are not allowed to eat in the large +dining-room. Here, this way; you must take your dinner in the servants' +hall." + +Hungry and humiliated as I was, I was willing to follow to any place to +get my dinner, for I had been riding all day, and had not tasted a +mouthful since early morning. + +On reaching the servants' hall we found the door of the room locked. The +waiter left me standing in the passage while he went to inform the clerk +of the fact. + +In a few minutes the obsequious clerk came blustering down the hall: + +"Did you come out of the street, or from Mrs. Clarke's room?" + +"From Mrs. Clarke's room," I meekly answered. My gentle words seemed to +quiet him, and then he explained: + +"It is after the regular hour for dinner. The room is locked up, and +Annie has gone out with the key." + +My pride would not let me stand longer in the hall. + +"Very well," I remarked, as I began climbing the stairs, "I will tell +Mrs. Clarke that I cannot get any dinner." + +He looked after me, with a scowl on his face: + +"You need not put on airs! I understand the whole thing." + +I said nothing, but continued to climb the stairs, thinking to myself: +"Well, if you understand the whole thing, it is strange that you should +put the widow of ex-President Abraham Lincoln in a three-cornered room +in the attic of this miserable hotel." + +When I reached Mrs. Lincoln's rooms, tears of humiliation and vexation +were in my eyes. + +"What is the matter, Lizzie?" she asked. + +"I cannot get any dinner." + +"Cannot get any dinner! What do you mean?" + +I then told her of all that had transpired below. + +"The insolent, overbearing people!" she fiercely exclaimed. "Never mind, +Lizzie, you shall have your dinner. Put on your bonnet and shawl." + +"What for?" + +"What for! Why, we will go out of the hotel, and get you something to +eat where they know how to behave decently;" and Mrs. Lincoln already +was tying the strings of her bonnet before the glass. + +Her impulsiveness alarmed me. + +"Surely, Mrs. Lincoln, you do not intend to go out on the street +to-night?" + +"Yes I do. Do you suppose I am going to have you starve, when we can +find something to eat on every corner?" + +"But you forget. You are here as Mrs. Clarke and not as Mrs. Lincoln. +You came alone, and the people already suspect that everything is not +right. If you go outside of the hotel to-night, they will accept the +fact as evidence against you." + +"Nonsense; what do you suppose I care for what these low-bred people +think? Put on your things." + +"No, Mrs. Lincoln, I shall not go outside of the hotel to-night, for I +realize your situation, if you do not. Mrs. Lincoln has no reason to +care what these people may say about her as Mrs. Lincoln, but she should +be prudent, and give them no opportunity to say anything about her as +Mrs. Clarke." + +It was with difficulty I could convince her that she should act with +caution. She was so frank and impulsive that she never once thought that +her actions might be misconstrued. It did not occur to her that she +might order dinner to be served in my room, so I went to bed without a +mouthful to eat. + +The next morning Mrs. Lincoln knocked at my door before six o'clock: + +"Come, Elizabeth, get up, I know you must be hungry. Dress yourself +quickly and we will go out and get some breakfast. I was unable to sleep +last night for thinking of you being forced to go to bed without +anything to eat." + +I dressed myself as quickly as I could, and together we went out and +took breakfast, at a restaurant on Broadway, some place between 609 and +the St. Denis Hotel. I do not give the number, as I prefer leaving it to +conjecture. Of one thing I am certain--the proprietor of the restaurant +little dreamed who one of his guests was that morning. + +After breakfast we walked up Broadway, and entering Union Square Park, +took a seat on one of the benches under the trees, watched the children +at play, and talked over the situation. Mrs. Lincoln told me: "Lizzie, +yesterday morning I called for the _Herald_ at the breakfast table, and +on looking over the list of diamond brokers advertised, I selected the +firm of W. H. Brady & Co., 609 Broadway. After breakfast I walked down +to the house, and tried to sell them a lot of jewelry. I gave my name as +Mrs. Clarke. I first saw Mr. Judd, a member of the firm, a very pleasant +gentleman. We were unable to agree about the price. He went back into +the office, where a stout gentleman was seated at the desk, but I could +not hear what he said. [I know now what was said, and so shall the +reader, in parentheses. Mr. Brady has since told me that he remarked to +Mr. Judd that the woman must be crazy to ask such outrageous prices, +and to get rid of her as soon as possible.] Soon after Mr. Judd came +back to the counter, another gentleman, Mr. Keyes, as I have since +learned, a silent partner in the house, entered the store. He came to +the counter, and in looking over my jewelry discovered my name inside of +one of the rings. I had forgotten the ring, and when I saw him looking +at the name so earnestly, I snatched the bauble from him and put it into +my pocket. I hastily gathered up my jewelry, and started out. They asked +for my address, and I left my card, Mrs. Clarke, at the St. Denis Hotel. +They are to call to see me this forenoon, when I shall enter into +negotiations with them." + +Scarcely had we returned to the hotel when Mr. Keyes called, and Mrs. +Clarke disclosed to him that she was Mrs. Lincoln. He was much elated to +find his surmise correct. Mrs. L. exhibited to him a large number of +shawls, dresses, and fine laces, and told him that she was compelled to +sell them in order to live. He was an earnest Republican, was much +affected by her story, and denounced the ingratitude of the government +in the severest terms. She complained to him of the treatment she had +received at the St. Denis, and he advised her to move to another hotel +forthwith. She readily consented, and as she wanted to be in an +out-of-the-way place where she would not be recognized by any of her old +friends, he recommended the Earle Hotel in Canal street. + +On the way down to the hotel that morning she acceded to a suggestion +made by me, and supported by Mr. Keyes, that she confide in the +landlord, and give him her name without registering, so as to ensure the +proper respect. Unfortunately, the Earle Hotel was full, and we had to +select another place. We drove to the Union Place Hotel, where we +secured rooms for Mrs. Clarke, Mrs. Lincoln changing her mind, deeming +it would not be prudent to disclose her real name to any one. After we +had become settled in our new quarters, Messrs. Keyes and Brady called +frequently on Mrs. Lincoln, and held long conferences with her. They +advised her to pursue the course she did, and were sanguine of success. +Mrs. Lincoln was very anxious to dispose of her things, and return to +Chicago as quickly and quietly as possible; but they presented the case +in a different light, and, I regret to say, she was guided by their +counsel. "Pooh," said Mr. Brady, "place your affairs in our hands, and +we will raise you at least $100,000 in a few weeks. The people will not +permit the widow of Abraham Lincoln to suffer; they will come to her +rescue when they know she is in want." + +The argument seemed plausible, and Mrs. Lincoln quietly acceded to the +proposals of Keyes and Brady. + +We remained quietly at the Union Place Hotel for a few days. On Sunday +Mrs. Lincoln accepted the use of a private carriage, and accompanied by +me, she drove out to Central Park. We did not enjoy the ride much, as +the carriage was a close one, and we could not throw open the window for +fear of being recognized by some one of the many thousands in the Park. +Mrs. Lincoln wore a heavy veil so as to more effectually conceal her +face. We came near being run into, and we had a spasm of alarm, for an +accident would have exposed us to public gaze, and of course the +masquerade would have been at an end. On Tuesday I hunted up a number of +dealers in secondhand clothing, and had them call at the hotel by +appointment. Mrs. Lincoln soon discovered that they were hard people to +drive a bargain with, so on Thursday we got into a close carriage, +taking a bundle of dresses and shawls with us, and drove to a number of +stores on Seventh Avenue, where an attempt was made to dispose of a +portion of the wardrobe. The dealers wanted the goods for little or +nothing, and we found it a hard matter to drive a bargain with them. +Mrs. Lincoln met the dealers squarely, but all of her tact and +shrewdness failed to accomplish much. I do not care to dwell upon this +portion of my story. Let it answer to say, that we returned to the hotel +more disgusted than ever with the business in which we were engaged. +There was much curiosity at the hotel in relation to us, as our +movements were watched, and we were regarded with suspicion. Our trunks +in the main hall below were examined daily, and curiosity was more +keenly excited when the argus-eyed reporters for the press traced Mrs. +Lincoln's name on the cover of one of her trunks. The letters had been +rubbed out, but the faint outlines remained, and these outlines only +served to stimulate curiosity. Messrs. Keyes and Brady called often, and +they made Mrs. Lincoln believe that, if she would write certain letters +for them to show to prominent politicians, they could raise a large sum +of money for her. They argued that the Republican party would never +permit it to be said that the wife of Abraham Lincoln was in want; that +the leaders of the party would make heavy advances rather than have it +published to the world that Mrs. Lincoln's poverty compelled her to sell +her wardrobe. Mrs. L.'s wants were urgent, as she had to borrow $600 +from Keyes and Brady, and she was willing to adopt any scheme which +promised to place a good bank account to her credit. At different times +in her room at the Union Place Hotel she wrote the following letters: + + + CHICAGO, Sept. 18, 1867. + + "MR. BRADY, _Commission Broker, No. 609 Broadway, + New York_: + + "I have this day sent to you personal property, which I am + compelled to part with, and which you will find of + considerable value. The articles consist of four camels' hair + shawls, one lace dress and shawl, a parasol cover, a diamond + ring, two dress patterns, some furs, etc. + + "Please have them appraised, and confer by letter with me. + + Very respectfully, + "MRS. LINCOLN." + + + "CHICAGO, ----. + + "MR BRADY _No 609 Broadway, N.Y. City_ + + "**** DEAR SIR:--The articles I am sending you to dispose of + were gifts of dear friends, which only urgent necessity + compels me to part with, and I am especially anxious that + they shall not be sacrificed. + + "The circumstances are peculiar, and painfully embarrassing; + therefore I hope you will endeavor to realize as much as + possible for them. Hoping to hear from you, I remain, very + respectfully, + + "MRS. A. LINCOLN." + + + "Sept. 25, 1867. + + "W.H. BRADY, ESQ.:--My great, great sorrow and loss have made + me painfully sensitive, but as my feelings and pecuniary + comforts were never regarded or even recognized in the midst + of my overwhelming bereavement--_now_ that I am pressed in a + most startling manner for means of subsistence, I do not know + why I should shrink from an opportunity of improving my + trying position. + + "Being assured that all you do will be appropriately + executed, and in a manner that will not startle me very + greatly, and excite as little comment as possible, again I + shall leave all in your hands. + + "I am passing through a very painful ordeal, which the + country, in remembrance of my noble and devoted husband, + should have spared me. + + "I remain, with great respect, very truly, + + "MRS. LINCOLN. + + "P.S.--As you mention that my goods have been valued at over + $24,000, I will be willing to make a reduction of $8,000, and + relinquish them for $16,000. If this is not accomplished, I + will continue to sell and advertise largely until every + article is sold. + + "I must have means to live, at least in a medium comfortable + state. + + "M. L." + + +The letters are dated Chicago, and addressed to Mr. Brady, though every +one of them was written in New York; for when Mrs. L. left the West for +the East, she had settled upon no definite plan of action. Mr. Brady +proposed to show the letters to certain politicians, and ask for money +on a threat to publish them if his demands, as Mrs. Lincoln's agent, +were not complied with. When writing the letters I stood at Mrs. +Lincoln's elbow, and suggested that they be couched in the mildest +language possible. + +"Never mind, Lizzie," she said; "anything to raise the wind. One might +as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb." + +This latter expression was a favorite one of hers; she meaning by it, +that if one must be punished for an act, such as theft for instance, +that the punishment would be no more severe if a sheep were taken +instead of a lamb. + +Mr. Brady exhibited the letters quite freely, but the parties to whom +they were shown refused to make any advances. Meanwhile our stay at the +Union Place Hotel excited so much curiosity, that a sudden movement was +rendered expedient to avoid discovery. We sent the large trunks to 609 +Broadway, packed the smaller ones, paid our bills at the hotel, and one +morning hastily departed for the country, where we remained three days. +The movement was successful. The keen-eyed reporters for the daily +papers were thrown off the scent, and when we returned to the city we +took rooms at the Brandreth House, where Mrs. Lincoln registered as +"Mrs. Morris." I had desired her to go to the Metropolitan Hotel, and +confide in the proprietors, as the Messrs. Leland had always been very +kind to her, treating her with distinguished courtesy whenever she was +their guest; but this she refused to do. + +Several days passed, and Messrs. Brady and Keyes were forced to +acknowledge that their scheme was a failure. The letters had been shown +to various parties, but every one declined to act. Aside from a few +dresses sold at small prices to secondhand dealers, Mrs. Lincoln's +wardrobe was still in her possession. Her visit to New York had proved +disastrous, and she was goaded into more desperate measures. Money she +must have, and to obtain it she proposed to play a bolder game. She gave +Mr. Brady permission to place her wardrobe on exhibition for sale, and +authorized him to publish the letters in the _World_. + +After coming to this determination, she packed her trunks to return to +Chicago. I accompanied her to the depot, and told her good-by, on the +very morning that the letters appeared in the _World_. Mrs. Lincoln +wrote me the incidents of the journey, and the letter describes the +story more graphically than I could hope to do. I suppress many +passages, as they are of too confidential a nature to be given to the +public: + + "CHICAGO, October 6th. + + "My DEAR LIZZIE:--My ink is like myself and my spirits + failing, so I write you to-day with a pencil. I had a + solitary ride to this place, as you may imagine, varied by + one or two amusing incidents. I found, after you left me, I + could not continue in the car in which you left me, owing to + every seat's berth being engaged; so, being simple _Mrs. + Clarke_, I had to eat 'humble-pie' in a car less commodious. + My thoughts were too much with my 'dry goods and interests' + at 609 Broadway, to care much for my surroundings, as + uncomfortable as they were. In front of me sat a middle-aged, + gray-haired, respectable-looking gentleman, who, for the + whole morning, had the page of the _World_ before him which + contained my letters and business concerns. About four hours + before arriving at Chicago, a consequential-looking man, of + formidable size, seated himself by him, and it appears they + were entirely unknown to each other. The well-fed looking + individual opened the conversation with the man who had read + the _World_ so attentively, and the conversation soon grew + warm and earnest. The war and its devastation engaged them. + The bluffy individual, doubtless a Republican who had + pocketed his many thousands, spoke of the widows of the land, + made so by the war. My reading man remarked to him: + + "'Are you aware that Mrs. Lincoln is in indigent + circumstances, and has to sell her clothing and jewelry to + gain means to make life more endurable?' + + "The well-conditioned man replied: 'I do not blame her for + selling her clothing, if she wishes it. I suppose _when sold_ + she will convert the proceeds into five-twenties to enable + her to have means to be buried.' + + "The _World_ man turned towards him with a searching glance, + and replied, with the haughtiest manner: 'That woman is not + dead yet.' + + "The discomfited individual looked down, never spoke another + word, and in half an hour left his seat, and did not return. + + "I give you word for word as the conversation occurred. May + it be found through the execution of my friends, Messrs. + Brady and Keyes, that 'that woman is not yet dead,' and being + alive, she speaketh and gaineth valuable hearers. Such is + life! Those who have been injured, how gladly the injurer + would consign them to mother earth and forgetfulness! Hoping + I should not be recognized at Fort Wayne, I thought I would + get out at dinner for a cup of tea. * * * will show you what + a creature of _fate_ I am, as miserable as it sometimes is. I + went into the dining-room alone; and was ushered up to the + table, where, at its head, sat a very elegant-looking + gentleman--at his side a middle-aged lady. My black veil was + doubled over my face. I had taken my seat next to him--he at + the head of the table, I at his left hand. I immediately + _felt_ a pair of eyes was gazing at me. I looked him full in + the face, and the glance was earnestly returned. I sipped my + water, and said: 'Mr. S., is this indeed you?' His face was + as pale as the table-cloth. We entered into conversation, + when I asked him how long since he had left Chicago. He + replied, 'Two weeks since.' He said, 'How strange you should + be on the train and I not know it!' + + "As soon as I could escape from the table, I did so by + saying, 'I must secure a cup of tea for a lady friend with me + who has a head-ache.' I had scarcely returned to the car, + when he entered it with a cup of tea borne by his own + aristocratic hands. I was a good deal annoyed by seeing him, + and he was so agitated that he spilled half of the cup over + my _elegantly gloved_ hands. _He_ looked very sad, and I + fancied 609 Broadway occupied his thoughts. I apologized for + the absent lady who wished the cup, by saying that 'in my + absence she had slipped out for it.' His heart was in his + eyes, notwithstanding my veiled face. Pity for me, I fear, + has something to do with all this. I never saw his manner + _so_ gentle and sad. This was nearly evening, and I did not + see him again, as he returned to the lady, who was his + sister-in-law from the East. * * * What evil spirit possessed + me to go out and get that cup of tea? When he left me, + _woman-like_ I tossed the cup of tea out of the window, and + tucked my head down and shed _bitter tears_. * * At the depot + my darling little Taddie was waiting for me, and his voice + never sounded so sweet. * * * My dear Lizzie, do visit Mr. + Brady each morning at nine o'clock, and urge them all you + can. I see by the papers Stewart has returned. To-morrow I + will send the invoice of goods, which please to not give up. + How much I miss you, tongue cannot tell. Forget my fright and + nervousness of the evening before. Of course you were as + innocent as a child in all you did. I consider you my best + living friend, and I am struggling to be enabled some day to + repay you. Write me often, as you promised. + + "Always truly yours, + "M. L." + +It is not necessary for me to dwell upon the public history of Mrs. +Lincoln's unfortunate venture. The question has been discussed in all +the newspapers of the land, and these discussions are so recent that it +would be useless to introduce them in these pages, even if I had an +inclination to do so. The following, from the New York _Evening +Express_, briefly tells the story: + +"The attraction for ladies, and the curious and speculative of the other +sex in this city, just now, is the grand exposition of Lincoln dresses +at the office of Mr. Brady, on Broadway, a few doors south of Houston +street. The publicity given to the articles on exhibition and for sale +has excited the public curiosity, and hundreds of people, principally +women with considerable leisure moments at disposal, daily throng the +rooms of Mr. Brady, and give himself and his shop-woman more to do than +either bargained for, when a lady, with face concealed with a veil, +called and arranged for the sale of the superabundant clothing of a +distinguished and titled, but nameless lady. Twenty-five dresses, folded +or tossed about by frequent examinations, lie exposed upon a closed +piano, and upon a lounge; shawls rich and rare are displayed upon the +backs of chairs, but the more exacting obtain a better view and closer +inspection by the lady attendant throwing them occasionally upon her +shoulders, just to oblige, so that their appearance on promenade might +be seen and admired. Furs, laces, and jewelry are in a glass case, but +the 'four thousand dollars in gold' point outfit is kept in a +paste-board box, and only shown on special request. + +"The feeling of the majority of visitors is adverse to the course Mrs. +Lincoln has thought proper to pursue, and the criticisms are as severe +as the cavillings are persistent at the quality of some of the dresses. +These latter are labelled at Mrs. Lincoln's own estimate, and prices +range from $25 to $75--about 50 per cent less than cost. Some of them, +if not worn long, have been worn much; they are jagged under the arms +and at the bottom of the skirt, stains are on the lining, and other +objections present themselves to those who oscillate between the dresses +and dollars, 'notwithstanding they have been worn by Madam Lincoln,' as +a lady who looked from behind a pair of gold spectacles remarked. Other +dresses, however, have scarcely been worn--one, perhaps, while Mrs. +Lincoln sat for her picture, and from one the basting threads had not +yet been removed. The general testimony is that the wearing apparel is +high-priced, and some of the examiners say that the cost-figures must +have been put on by the dressmakers; or, if such was not the case, that +gold was 250 when they were purchased, and is now but 140--so that a +dress for which $150 was paid at the rate of high figures cannot be +called cheap at half that sum, after it has been worn considerable, and +perhaps passed out of fashion. The peculiarity of the dresses is that +the most of them are cut low-necked--a taste which some ladies attribute +to Mrs. Lincoln's appreciation of her own bust. + +"On Saturday last an offer was made for all the dresses. The figure +named was less than the aggregate estimate placed on them. Mr. Brady, +however, having no discretionary power, he declined to close the +bargain, but notified Mrs. Lincoln by mail. Of course, as yet, no reply +has been received. Mrs. L. desires that the auction should be deferred +till the 31st of the present month, and efforts made to dispose of the +articles at private sale up to that time. + +"A Mrs. C-- called on Mr. Brady this morning, and examined minutely each +shawl. Before leaving the lady said that, at the time when there was a +hesitancy about the President issuing the Emancipation Proclamation, she +sent to Mrs. Lincoln an ashes-of-rose shawl, which was manufactured in +China, forwarded to France, and thence to Mrs. C--, in New York. The +shawl, the lady remarked, was a very handsome one, and should it come +into the hands of Mr. Brady to be sold, would like to be made aware of +the fact, so as to obtain possession again. Mr. Brady promised to +acquaint the ashes-of-rose donor, if the prized article should be among +the two trunks of goods now on the way from Chicago." + +So many erroneous reports were circulated, that I made a correct +statement to one of the editors of the New York _Evening News_. The +article based upon the memoranda furnished by me appeared in the _News_ +of Oct. 12, 1867. I reproduce a portion of it in this connection: + +"Mrs. Lincoln feels sorely aggrieved at many of the harsh criticisms +that have been passed upon her for travelling incognito. She claims that +she adopted this course from motives of delicacy, desiring to avoid +publicity. While here, she spoke to but two former acquaintances, and +these two gentlemen whom she met on Broadway. Hundreds passed her who +had courted her good graces when she reigned supreme at the White House, +but there was no recognition. It was not because she had changed much in +personal appearance, but was merely owing to the heavy crape veil that +hid her features from view. + +"She seeks to defend her course while in this city--and with much force, +too. Adverting to the fact that the Empress of France frequently +disposes of her cast-off wardrobe, and publicly too, without being +subjected to any unkind remarks regarding its propriety, she claims the +same immunity here as is accorded in Paris to Eugenie. As regards her +obscurity while in this city, she says that foreigners of note and +position frequently come to our stores, and under assumed names travel +from point to point throughout our vast domain, to avoid recognition and +the inconveniences resulting from being known, though it even be in the +form of honors. For herself she regards quiet preferable to ostentatious +show, which would have cost her much indirectly, if not directly; and +this she felt herself unable to bear, according to the measure of her +present state of finances. + +"In a recent letter to her bosom friend, Mrs. Elizabeth Keckley, Mrs. +Lincoln pathetically remarks, 'Elizabeth, if evil come from this, pray +for my deliverance, as I did it for the best.' This referred to her +action in placing her personal effects before the public for sale, and +to the harsh remarks that have been made thereon by some whom she had +formerly regarded as her friends. + +"As to the articles which belonged to Mr. Lincoln, they can all be +accounted for in a manner satisfactory even to an over-critical public. +During the time Mr. Lincoln was in office he was the recipient of +several canes. After his death one was given to the Hon. Charles Sumner; +another to Fred. Douglass; another to the Rev. H. H. Garnet of this +city, and another to Mr. Wm. Slade, the present steward of the White +House, who, in Mr. Lincoln's lifetime, was his messenger. This +gentleman also received some of Mr. Lincoln's apparel, among which was +his heavy gray shawl. Several other of the messengers employed about the +White House came in for a share of the deceased President's effects. + +"The shepherd plaid shawl which Mr. Lincoln wore during the milder +weather, and which was rendered somewhat memorable as forming part of +his famous disguise, together with the Scotch cap, when he wended his +way secretly to the Capitol to be inaugurated as President, was given to +Dr. Abbot, of Canada, who had been one of his warmest friends. During +the war this gentleman, as a surgeon in the United States army, was in +Washington in charge of a hospital, and thus became acquainted with the +head of the nation. + +"His watch, his penknife, his gold pencil, and his glasses are now in +possession of his son Robert. Nearly all else than these few things have +passed out of the family, as Mrs. Lincoln did not wish to retain them. +But all were freely given away, and not an article was parted with for +money. + +"The Rev. Dr. Gurley of Washington was the spiritual adviser of the +President and his family. They attended his church. When little 'Willie' +died, he officiated at the funeral. He was a most intimate friend of the +family, and when Mr. Lincoln lay upon his death-bed Mr. Gurley was by +his side. He, as his clergyman, performed the funeral rites upon the +body of the deceased President, when it lay cold in death at the City of +Washington. He received the hat worn last by Mr. Lincoln, as we have +before stated, and it is still retained by him. + +"The dress that was worn by Mrs. Lincoln on the night of the +assassination was presented to Mrs. Wm. Slade. It is a black silk with a +little white stripe. Most of the other articles that adorned Mrs. +Lincoln on that fatal night became the property of Mrs. Keckley. She has +the most of them carefully stowed away, and intends keeping them during +her life as mementos of a mournful event. The principal articles among +these are the earrings, the bonnet, and the velvet cloak. The writer of +this saw the latter on Thursday. It bears most palpable marks of the +assassination, being completely bespattered with blood, that has dried +upon its surface, and which can never be removed. + +"A few words as regard the disposition and habits of Mrs. Lincoln. She +is no longer the sprightly body she was when her very presence illumed +the White House with gayety. Now she is sad and sedate, seeking +seclusion, and maintaining communication merely with her most intimate +personal friends. The most of her time she devotes to instructive +reading within the walls of her boudoir. Laying her book aside +spasmodically, she places her hand upon her forehead, as if ruminating +upon something momentous. Then her hand wanders amid her heavy tresses, +while she ponders for but a few seconds--then, by a sudden start, she +approaches her writing-stand, seizes a pen, and indites a few hasty +lines to some trusty friend, upon the troubles that weigh so heavily +upon her. Speedily it is sent to the post-office; but, hardly has the +mail departed from the city before she regrets her hasty letter, and +would give much to recall it. But, too late, it is gone, and probably +the secrets it contains are not confidentially kept by the party to whom +it was addressed, and soon it furnishes inexhaustible material for +gossip-loving people. + +"As some citizens have expressed themselves desirous of aiding Mrs. +Lincoln, a subscription-book was opened at the office of her agent, Mr. +Brady, No. 609 Broadway, this morning. There is no limitation as to the +amount which may be given, though there was a proposition that a dollar +should be contributed by each person who came forward to inspect the +goods. Had each person who handled these articles given this sum, a +handsome amount would already have been realized. + +"The colored people are moving in this matter. They intend to take up +collections in their churches for the benefit of Mrs. Lincoln. They are +enthusiastic, and a trifle from every African in this city would, in the +aggregate, swell into an immense sum, which would be doubly acceptable +to Mrs. Lincoln. It would satisfy her that the black people still have +the memory of her deceased husband fresh in their minds. + +"The goods still remain exposed to sale, but it is now announced that +they will be sold at public auction on the 30th of this month, unless +they be disposed of before that at private sale." + +It is stated in the article that the "colored people are moving in this +matter." The colored people were surprised to hear of Mrs. Lincoln's +poverty, and the news of her distress called forth strong sympathy from +their warm, generous hearts. Rev. H. H. Garnet, of New York City, and +Mr. Frederick Douglass, of Rochester, N.Y., proposed to lecture in +behalf of the widow of the lamented President, and schemes were on foot +to raise a large sum of money by contribution. The colored people +recognized Abraham Lincoln as their great friend, and they were anxious +to show their kind interest in the welfare of his family in some way +more earnest and substantial than simple words. I wrote Mrs. Lincoln +what we proposed to do, and she promptly replied, declining to receive +aid from the colored people. I showed her letter to Mr. Garnet and Mr. +Douglass, and the whole project was at once abandoned. She afterwards +consented to receive contributions from my people, but as the services +of Messrs. Douglass, Garnet, and others had been refused when first +offered, they declined to take an active part in the scheme; so nothing +was ever done. The following letters were written before Mrs. Lincoln +declined to receive aid from the colored people: + + + "183 BLEECKER ST., NEW YORK, October 16th, 1867. + "J. H. BRADY, ESQ.:-- + + "I have just received your favor, together with the + circulars. I will do all that lies in my power, but I fear + that will not be as much as you anticipate. I think, however, + that a contribution from the colored people of New York will + be worth something in a moral point of view, and likely that + will be the most that will be accomplished in the + undertaking. I am thoroughly with you in the work, although + but little may be done. + + "I am truly yours, + "HENRY HIGHLAND GARNET. + + "P.S.--I think it would be well if you would drop a line to + Mr. Frederick Douglass, at Rochester, New York. + + "H. H. G." + + + "ROCHESTER, Oct. 18, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--You judge me rightly--I am willing to + do what I can to place the widow of our martyr President in + the affluent position which her relation to that good man and + to the country entitles her to. But I doubt the wisdom of + getting up a series of lectures for that purpose; that is + just the last thing that should be done. Still, if the thing + is done, it should be done on a grand scale. The best + speakers in the country should be secured for the purpose. + You should not place me at the head nor at the foot of the + list, but sandwich me between, for thus out of the way, it + would not give _color_ to the idea. I am to speak in Newark + on Wednesday evening next, and will endeavor to see you on + the subject. Of course, if it would not be too much to ask, I + would gladly see Mrs. Lincoln, if this could be done in a + quiet way without the reporters getting hold of it, and using + it in some way to the prejudice of that already much abused + lady. As I shall see you soon, there is less reason to write + you at length. + + "I am, dear madam, + "With high respect, + "Very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + + "POTTSVILLE, Oct. 29, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--You know the drift of my views + concerning the subscription for Mrs. Lincoln. Yet I wish to + place them more distinctly before you, so that, if you have + occasion to refer to me in connection with the matter, you + can do so with accuracy and certainty. + + "It is due Mrs. Lincoln that she should be indemnified, as + far as money can do so, for the loss of her beloved husband. + Honor, gratitude, and a manly sympathy, all say yes to this. + I am willing to go farther than this, and say that Mrs. + Lincoln herself should be the judge of the amount which shall + be deemed sufficient, believing that she would not transcend + reasonable limits. The obligation resting on the nation at + large is great and increasing, but especially does it become + colored men to recognize that obligation. It was the hand of + Abraham Lincoln that broke the fetters of our enslaved + people, and let them out of the house of bondage. When he + was slain, our great benefactor fell, and left his wife and + children to the care of those for whom he gave up all. Shame + on the man or woman who, under such circumstances, would + grudge a few paltry dollars, to smooth the pathway of such a + widow! All this, and more, I feel and believe. But such is + the condition of this question, owing to party feeling, and + personal animosities now mixed up with it, that we are + compelled to consider these in the effort we are making to + obtain subscriptions. + + "Now, about the meeting in Cooper Institute; I hold that that + meeting should only be held in concert with other movements. + It is bad generalship to put into the field only a fraction + of your army when you have no means to prevent their being + cut to pieces. It is gallant to go forth single-handed, but + is it wise? I want to see something more than the spiteful + _Herald_ behind me when I step forward in this cause at the + Cooper Institute. Let Mr. Brady out with his circulars, with + his list of commanding names, let the _Herald_ and _Tribune_ + give a united blast upon their bugles, let the city be + placarded, and the doors of Cooper Institute be flung wide + open, and the people, without regard to party, come up to the + discharge of this national duty. + + "Don't let the cause be made ridiculous by failure at the + outset. Mr. Garnet and I could bear any mortification of this + kind; but the cause could not. And our cause must not be + damaged by any such generalship, which would place us in the + van unsupported. + + "I shall be at home by Saturday; please write me and let me + know how matters are proceeding. Show this letter to Messrs. + Brady and Garnet. + + "I am, dear madam, + "Very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + + "ROCHESTER, Oct. 30, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--It is just possible that I may not + take New York in my route homeward. In that case please write + me directly at Rochester, and let me know fully how the + subscription business is proceeding. The meeting here last + night was a grand success. I speak again this evening, and + perhaps at Reading tomorrow evening. My kind regards to all + who think of me at 21, including Mrs. Lawrence. + + "Very truly yours, + "FREDK. DOUGLASS." + + + "ROCHESTER, Nov. 10, 1867. + + "MY DEAR MRS. KECKLEY:--I very easily read your handwriting. + With practice you will not only write legibly but elegantly; + so no more apologies for _bad_ writing. Penmanship has always + been one of my own deficiencies, and I know how to sympathize + with you. + + "I am just home, and find your letter awaiting me. You should + have received an earlier answer but for this absence. I am + sorry it will be impossible for me to see you before I go to + Washington. I am leaving home this week for Ohio, and shall + go from Ohio to Washington. I shall be in New York a day or + two after my visit to Washington, and will see you there. Any + public demonstration in which it will be desirable for me to + take part, ought to come off the last of this month or the + first of next. I thank you sincerely for the note containing + a published letter of dear Mrs. Lincoln; both letters do + credit to the excellent lady. I prize her beautiful letter to + me very highly. It is the letter of a refined and spirited + lady, let the world say what it will of her. I would write + her a word of acknowledgment but for fear to burden her with + correspondence. I am glad that Mr. Garnet and yourself saw + Mr. Greeley, and that he takes the right view of the matter; + but we want more than right views, and delay is death to the + movement. What you now want is action and cooperation. If Mr. + Brady does not for any reason find himself able to move the + machinery, somebody else should be found to take his place; + he made a good impression on me when I saw him, but I have + not seen the promised simultaneous movement of which we spoke + when together. This whole thing should be in the hands of + some recognized solid man in New York. No man would be better + than Mr. Greeley; no man in the State is more laughed at, and + yet no man is more respected and trusted; a dollar placed in + his hands would be as safe for the purpose as in a + burglar-proof safe, and what is better still, everybody + believes this. This testimonial must be more than a negro + testimonial. It is a great national duty. Mr. Lincoln did + everything for the black man, but he did it not for the black + man's sake, but for the nation's sake. His life was given for + the nation; but for being President, Mr. Lincoln would have + been alive, and Mrs. Lincoln would have been a wife, and not + a widow as now. Do all you can, dear Mrs. Keckley--nobody can + do more than you in removing the mountains of prejudice + towards that good lady, and opening the way of success in the + plan. + + "I am, dear madam, very truly yours, + "FREDERICK DOUGLASS." + + +Many persons called at 609 Broadway to examine Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe, +but as curiosity prompted each visit, but few articles were sold. +Messrs. Brady & Keyes were not very energetic, and, as will be seen by +the letters of Mrs. Lincoln, published in the Appendix, that lady +ultimately lost all confidence in them. It was proposed to send +circulars, stating Mrs. Lincoln's wants, and appealing to the generosity +of the people for aid, broad-cast over the country; but the scheme +failed. Messrs. Brady & Keyes were unable to obtain the names of +prominent men, whom the people had confidence in, for the circular, to +give character and responsibility to the movement--so the whole thing +was abandoned. With the Rev. Mr. Garnet, I called on Mr. Greeley, at the +office of the _Tribune_, in connection with this scheme. Mr. Greeley +received us kindly, and listened patiently to our proposals--then said: + +"I shall take pleasure in rendering you what assistance I can, but the +movement must be engineered by responsible parties. Messrs. Brady & +Keyes are not the men to be at the head of it. Nobody knows who they +are, or what they are. Place the matter in the hands of those that the +people know and have some confidence in, and then there will be a chance +for success." + +We thanked Mr. Greeley for his advice, for we believed it to be good +advice, and bowed ourselves out of his room. When Messrs. Brady & Keyes +were informed of the result of our interview, they became very much +excited, and denounced Mr. Greeley as "an old fool." This put an end to +the circular movement. The enterprise was nipped in the bud, and with +the bud withered Mrs. Lincoln's last hope for success. A portion of the +wardrobe was then taken to Providence, to be exhibited, but without her +consent. Mr. Brady remarked that the exhibition would bring in money, +and as money must be raised, this was the last resort. He was of the +impression that Mrs. Lincoln would approve of any movement, so it ended +in success. This, at least, is a charitable view to take of the subject. +Had the exhibition succeeded in Providence, it is my opinion that the +agents of Brady & Keyes would now be travelling over the country, +exposing Mrs. Lincoln's wardrobe to the view of the curious, at so much +per head. As is well known, the city authorities refused to allow the +exhibition to take place in Providence; therefore Mr. Brady returned to +New York with the goods, and the travelling show scheme, like the +circular scheme, was abandoned. Weeks lengthened into months, and at +Mrs. Lincoln's urgent request I remained in New York, to look after her +interests. When she left the city I engaged quiet lodgings in a private +family, where I remained about two months, when I moved to 14 Carroll +Place, and became one of the regular boarders of the house. Mrs. +Lincoln's venture proved so disastrous that she was unable to reward me +for my services, and I was compelled to take in sewing to pay for my +daily bread. My New York expedition has made me richer in experience, +but poorer in purse. During the entire winter I have worked early and +late, and practised the closest economy. Mrs. Lincoln's business +demanded much of my time, and it was a constant source of trouble to me. +When Mrs. L. left for the West, I expected to be able to return to +Washington in one week from the day; but unforeseen difficulties arose, +and I have been detained in the city for several months. As I am writing +the concluding pages of this book, I have succeeded in closing up Mrs. +Lincoln's imprudent business arrangement at 609 Broadway. The firm of +Brady & Keyes is dissolved, and Mr. Keyes has adjusted the account. The +story is told in a few words. On the 4th of March I received the +following invoice from Mr. Keyes: + +"March 4, '68. + +"_Invoice of articles sent to Mrs. A. Lincoln:_ + + 1 Trunk. + 1 Lace dress. + 1 do. do. flounced. + 5 Lace shawls. + 3 Camel hair shawls. + 1 Lace parasol cover. + 1 do. handkerchief. + 1 Sable boa. + 1 White do. + 1 Set furs. + 2 Paisley shawls. + 2 Gold bracelets. + 16 Dresses. + 2 Opera cloaks. + 1 Purple shawl. + 1 Feather cape. + 28 yds. silk. + +ARTICLES SOLD. + + 1 Diamond ring. + 3 Small do. + 1 Set furs. + 1 Camel hair shawl. + 1 Red do. + 2 Dresses. + 1 Child's shawl. + 1 Lace Chantilly shawl." + +The charges of the firm amounted to eight hundred dollars. Mrs. Lincoln +sent me a check for this amount. I handed this check to Mr. Keyes, and +he gave me the following receipt: + + "Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, + eight hundred and twenty dollars by draft on American National + Bank, New York. + + "S. C. KEYES." + +I packed the articles invoiced, and expressed the trunks to Mrs. +Lincoln at Chicago. I then demanded and received a receipt worded as +follows: + + "Received, New York, March 4, 1868, of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, + eight hundred and twenty dollars in full of all demands of + every kind up to date. + + "S. C. KEYES." + +This closed up the business, and with it I close the imperfect story of +my somewhat romantic life. I have experienced many ups and downs, but +still am stout of heart. The labor of a lifetime has brought me nothing +in a pecuniary way. I have worked hard, but fortune, fickle dame, has +not smiled upon me. If poverty did not weigh me down as it does, I would +not now be toiling by day with my needle, and writing by night, in the +plain little room on the fourth floor of No. 14 Carroll Place. And yet I +have learned to love the garret-like room. Here, with Mrs. Amelia +Lancaster as my only companion, I have spent many pleasant hours, as +well as sad ones, and every chair looks like an old friend. In memory I +have travelled through the shadows and the sunshine of the past, and the +bare walls are associated with the visions that have come to me from the +long-ago. As I love the children of memory, so I love every article in +this room, for each has become a part of memory itself. Though poor in +worldly goods, I am rich in friendships, and friends are a recompense +for all the woes of the darkest pages of life. For sweet friendship's +sake, I can bear more burdens than I have borne. + +The letters appended from Mrs. Lincoln to myself throw a flood of light +upon the history of the "old clothes" speculation in New York. + + + + +APPENDIX + +LETTERS FROM MRS. LINCOLN TO MRS. KECKLEY. + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday Morning, Oct. 6. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am writing this morning with a broken heart after a +sleepless night of great mental suffering. R. came up last evening like +a maniac, and almost threatening his life, looking like death, because +the letters of the _World_ were published in yesterday's paper. I could +not refrain from weeping when I saw him so miserable. But yet, my dear +good Lizzie, was it not to protect myself and help others--and was not +my motive and action of the purest kind? Pray for me that this cup of +affliction may pass from me, or be sanctified to me. I weep whilst I am +writing. * * * * I pray for death this morning. Only my darling Taddie +prevents my taking my life. I shall have to endure a round of newspaper +abuse from the Republicans because I dared venture to relieve a few of +my wants. Tell Mr. Brady and Keyes not to have a line of mine once more +in print. I am nearly losing my reason. + + "Your friend, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Oct. 8. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Bowed down with suffering and anguish, again I write +you. As we might have expected, the Republicans are falsifying me, and +doing _just_ as they did when they prevented the Congressional +appropriation. Mrs. ---- knows something about these same people. As her +husband is _living_ they dare not utter all they would desire to speak. +You know yourself how innocently I have acted, and from the best and +purest motives. They will _howl_ on to prevent my disposing of my +things. What a _vile, vile_ set they are! The _Tribune_ here, Mr. +White's paper, wrote a very beautiful editorial yesterday in my behalf; +yet knowing that I have been deprived of my rights by the party, I +suppose I would be _mobbed_ if I ventured out. What a world of anguish +this is--and how I have been made to suffer! * * * You would not +recognize me now. The glass shows me a pale, wretched, haggard face, and +my dresses are like bags on me. And all because I was doing what I felt +to be my duty. Our minister, Mr. Swazey, called on me yesterday and said +I had done perfectly right. Mrs. F-- says every one speaks in the same +way. The politicians, knowing they have deprived me of my just rights, +would prefer to see me starve, rather than dispose of my things. They +will prevent the sale of anything, so I have telegraphed for them. I +hope you have received from B. the letters I have consigned to his care. +See to this. Show none of them. Write me every day. + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Wednesday, October 9th. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--It appears as if the fiends had let loose, for the +Republican papers are tearing me to pieces in this border ruffian West. +If I had committed murder in every city in this _blessed_ Union, I could +not be more traduced. And you know how innocent I have been of the +intention of doing wrong. A piece in the morning _Tribune_, signed 'B,' +pretending to be a lady, says there is no doubt Mrs. L.--_is_ +deranged--has been for years past, and will end her life in a lunatic +asylum. They would doubtless like me to begin it _now_. Mr. S., a very +kind, sympathizing minister, has been with me this morning, and has now +gone to see Mr. Medill, of the _Tribune_, to know if _he_ sanctioned his +paper publishing such an article. * * * Pray for me, dear Lizzie, for I +am very miserable and broken-hearted. Since writing this, I have just +received a letter from Mr. Keyes, begging and pleading with me to allow +them to use my name for donations. I think I will consent. * * + + "Truly yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday, Oct. 13. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I am greatly disappointed, having only received one +letter from you since we parted, which was dated the day after. Day +after day I sent to Mrs. F. for letters. After your promise of writing +to me every other day, I can scarcely understand it. I hope to-morrow +will bring me a letter from you. How much I miss you cannot be +expressed. I hope you have arrived safely in Washington, and will tell +me everything. * * * Was there ever such cruel newspaper abuse lavished +upon an unoffending woman as has been showered upon my devoted head? The +people of this ungrateful country are like the 'dogs in the manger;' +will neither do anything themselves, nor allow me to improve my own +condition. What a Government we have! All their abuse lavished upon me +only lowers themselves in the estimation of all true-hearted people. The +Springfield _Journal_ had an editorial a few days since, with the +important information that Mrs. Lincoln had been known to be _deranged_ +for years, and should be _pitied_ for all her _strange acts_. I should +have been _all right_ if I had allowed _them_ to take possession of the +White House. In the comfortable stealings by contracts from the +Government, these low creatures are allowed to hurl their malicious +wrath at me, with no one to defend me or protect me, if I should starve. +These people injure themselves far more than they could do me, by their +lies and villany. Their aim is to prevent my goods being sold, or +anything being done for me. _In this_, I very much fear, they have +succeeded. + +"Write me, my dear friend, your candid opinion about everything. I +wished to be made better off, quite as much to improve your condition as +well as for myself. * * * Two weeks ago, dear Lizzie, we were in that +_den_ of discomfort and dirt. _Now_ we are far asunder. Every other day, +for the past week, I have had a chill, brought on by excitement and +suffering of mind. In the midst of it I have moved into my winter +quarters, and am now very comfortably situated. My parlor and bedroom +are very sweetly furnished. I am lodged in a handsome house, a very +kind, good, _quiet_ family, and their meals are excellent. I consider +myself fortunate in all this. I feel assured that the Republicans, who, +to cover up their own perfidy and neglect, have used every villanous +falsehood in their power to injure me--I fear they have _more_ than +succeeded, but if their day of reckoning does not come in this world, it +_will surely_ in the next. * * * * + +"_Saturday._--I have determined to shed no more tears over all their +cruel falsehoods, yet, just now, I feel almost forsaken by God and +man--except by the _latter_ to be vilified. Write me all that Keyes and +Brady think of the result. For myself, after _such_ abuse, I _expect_ +nothing. Oh! that I could see you. Write me, dear Lizzie, if only a +line; I cannot understand your silence. Hereafter direct your letters to +Mrs. A. Lincoln, 460 West Washington street, Chicago, Ill., care of D. +Cole. Remember 460. I am always so anxious to hear from you, I am +feeling so _friendless_ in the world. I remain always your affectionate +friend. + + M. L." + + +POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER OF OCT. 24. + +"I cannot send this letter off without writing you two little incidents +that have occurred within the past week. We may call it _justice_ +rendered for _evil words_, to say the least. There is a paper published +in Chicago called the _Republican_, owned and published by Springfield +men. Each morning since my return it has been thrown at my door, filled +with abuse of myself. Four days ago a piece appeared in it, asking 'What +right had Mrs. L. to diamonds and laces?' Yesterday morning an article +appeared in the same paper, announcing that the day previous, at the +house of Mr. Bunn (the owner of the paper), in Springfield, +Illinois--the house had been entered at 11 in the morning, by burglars, +and had been robbed of _five_ diamond rings, and a quantity of fine +laces. This morning's paper announces the recovery of these articles. +Mr. Bunn, who made his hundreds of thousands off our government, is +running this paper, and denouncing the wife of the man from whom he +obtained his means. I enclose you the article about the recovery of the +goods. A few years ago he had a _small grocery_ in S----. These facts +can be authenticated. Another case in point: The evening I left my house +to come here, the young daughter of one of my neighbors in the same +block, was in a house not a square off, and in a childish manner was +regretting that I could not retain my house. The man in the house said: +'Why waste your tears and regrets on Mrs. Lincoln?' An hour afterward +the husband and wife went out to make a call, doubtless to gossip about +me; on their return they found their young boy had almost blinded +himself with gunpowder. Who will say that the cry of the 'widow and +fatherless' is disregarded in _His_ sight! If man is not merciful, God +will be in his own time. + + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, October 29. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I received a very pleasant note from Mr. F. Douglass +on yesterday. I will reply to it this morning, and enclose it to you to +hand or send him immediately. In this morning's _Tribune_ there was a +little article _evidently_ designed to make capital _against_ me just +now--that _three_ of my brothers were in the Southern army during the +war. If they had been friendly with me they might have said they were +_half_ brothers of Mrs. L., whom she had not known since they were +infants; and as she left Kentucky at an early age her sympathies were +entirely Republican--that her feelings were entirely with the North +during the war, and always. I never failed to urge my husband to be an +_extreme_ Republican, and now, in the day of my trouble, you see how +_this_ very party is trying to work against me. Tell Mr. Douglass, and +every one, how deeply my feelings were enlisted in the cause of freedom. +Why _harp_ upon these _half_ brothers, whom I never knew since they were +infants, and scarcely then, for my early home was truly at a _boarding_ +school. Write to him all this, and talk it to every one else. If we +succeed I will soon send you enough for a very large supply of trimming +material for the winter. + + Truly, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 2nd. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letter of last Wednesday is received, and I +cannot refrain from expressing my surprise that before now K. and B. did +not go out in _search_ of names, and have sent forth all those +circulars. Their conduct is becoming mysterious. We have heard enough of +_their talk_--it is time now they should be _acting_. Their delay, I +fear, has ruined the business. The circulars should all have been out +before the _election_. I cannot understand their slowness. As Mr. +Greeley's home is in New York, he could certainly have been found had he +_been sought_; and there are plenty of other good men in New York, as +well as himself. I venture to say, that _before_ the election not a +circular will be sent out. I begin to think they are making a political +business of _my clothes_, and not for _my_ benefit either. Their delay +in acting is becoming very suspicious. Their slow, bad management is +_ruining_ every prospect of success. I fear you are only losing your +time in New York, and that I shall be left _in debt_ for what I am owing +the firm. I have written to K. and B., and they do nothing that I +request. I want neither Mr. Douglass nor Garnet to lecture in my behalf. +The conduct in New York is disgusting me with the whole business. I +cannot understand what they have been about. Their delay has only given +the enemies time to _gather_ strength; what does it all mean? Of course +give the lady at 609 permission to sell the dresses cheaper. * * * I am +feeling wretchedly over the slowness and _do-nothing_ style of B. & K. I +believe in my heart I am being used as a tool for party purposes; and +they do not design sending out a circular. * * * + + "Your friend, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 9, 1867. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--* * * Did you receive a letter a few days since, with +one enclosed for F. Douglass? also a printed letter of mine, which I +wished him to read? Do write me every other day at least, I am so +_nervous and miserable_. And Lizzie, dear, I fear we have not the +_least_ chance of success. _Do_ remain in New York a little longer, and +occupy yourself with the sewing of your friends. _Then_ I shall be able +to learn _some_thing about my business. In _your heart_ you know there +will be no success. _Why_ do you not candidly express yourself to me? +Write me, if only a few lines, and that very frequently. R. called up on +yesterday, with Judge Davis. * * * R. goes with Judge D. on Tuesday, to +settle the estate, which will give us each about $25,000, with the +income I told you of, $1,700 a year for each of us. You made a mistake +about my house costing $2,700--it was $1,700. The $22,000 Congress gave +me I spent for house and furniture, which, owing to the smallness of my +income, I was obliged to leave. I mention about the division of the +estate to you, dear Lizzie, because when it is done the _papers_ will +harp upon it. You can explain everything in New York; please do so to +every one. Please see H. G., if it should come out in the papers. I had +hoped, if something was gained, to have immediately placed _you_ in more +pleasant circumstances. Do urge F. D. to add his name to the circular; +also get them to have Beecher's. There must not be an hour's delay in +this. R. is very spiteful at present, and I think hurries up the +division to _cross_ my purposes. He mentioned yesterday that he was +going to the Rocky Mountains so soon as Edgar Welles joined him. He is +very _deep_. * * * Write me, _do_, when you receive this. Your silence +pains me. + + "Truly yours, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, NOV. 9. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I closed and sent off my letter before I had finished +all I had to say. Do not hint to K. or B., or any one else, my doubts of +them, _only watch them_. As to S. so many falsehoods are told in the +papers that all the stuff about his wife and himself may be untrue. I +hope it may prove so. I received a letter from Keyes this morning. I +believe I wrote you that I had. How hard it is that I cannot see and +talk with you in this time of great, _great_ trouble. I feel as if I had +not a friend in the world save yourself. * * I sometimes wish myself out +of this world of sorrow and care. I fear my fine articles at B.'s are +getting pulled to pieces and soiled. I do not wish you to leave N.Y. +without having the finest articles packed up and returned to me. The +_single_ white camel's hair shawl and the two Paisleys I wish returned +to me, if none of them are sold. Do you think there is the least chance +of _their_ being sold? I will give you a list of the articles I wish +returned to me from Mr. Brady's before _you leave_ New York for +Washington. + + "1 Camel's hair shawl, double black centre. + 1 Camel's hair shawl, double white centre. + 1 Single white camel's hair shawl. + 2 Paisley shawls--white. + 1 Pair bracelets and diamond ring. + 1 Fine lace handkerchief. + 3 Black lace shawls. + 2 Black lama shawls. + 1 Dress, silk unmade, white and black. + 1 White boa. + 1 Russian sable boa. + 1 Russian sable cape. + 1 A. sable cape, cuffs and muff. + 1 Chinchilla set. + +"The lace dress, flounce, and shawl, if there is no possibility of their +being sold. Also all other fine articles return me, save the dresses +which, with prices lowered, may be sold. * * + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 15, '67. + +"MY DEAR KECKLEY;--Your last letter has been received, and believe me, I +duly appreciate your great interest in my affairs. I hope the day _may_ +arrive when I can return your kindness in _more_ than words. As you are +aware of my beloved husband's great indulgence to me in pecuniary +matters, thereby allowing me to indulge in bestowing favors on those +whom I considered worthy of it, it is in this respect I feel chiefly the +humiliation of my small circumscribed income. If Congress, or the +Nation, had given me the four years' salary, I should have been able to +live as the widow of the great President Lincoln should, with sufficient +means to give liberally to all benevolent objects, and at my death +should have left at least half of it to the freedmen, for the liberty of +whom his precious sacred life was sacrificed. The men who prevented +_this_ being done by their villanous unscrupulous falsehoods, are no +friends of the colored race, and, as you well know, have led Johnson on +in his wicked course. + +"'_God is just_,' and the day of retribution will come to all such, if +not in this world, in the great hereafter, to which those hoary-headed +sinners are so rapidly hastening, with an innocent conscience. I did not +feel it necessary to raise my weak woman's voice against the +persecutions that have assailed me emanating from the tongues of such +men as Weed & Co. I have felt that their infamous false lives was a +sufficient vindication of my character. They have never forgiven me for +standing between my pure and noble husband and themselves, when, for +their own vile purposes, they would have led him into error. _All this_ +the country knows, and why should I dwell longer on it? In the blissful +home where my worshipped husband dwells God is ever merciful, and it is +the consolation of my broken heart that my darling husband is ever +retaining the devoted love which he always so abundantly manifested for +his wife and children in this life. I feel assured his watchful, loving +eyes are always watching over us, and he is fully aware of the wrong and +injustice permitted his family by a country he lost his life in +protecting. I write earnestly, because I feel very deeply. It appears to +me a very remarkable coincidence, that most of the good feeling +regarding my straitened circumstances proceeds from the colored people, +in whose cause my noble husband was so largely interested. Whether we +are successful or not, Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet will always have +my most grateful thanks. They are very noble men. If any _favorable_ +results should crown their efforts, you may well believe at my death, +whatever sum it may be, will be bequeathed to the colored people, who +are very near my heart. In yesterday's paper it was announced that Gov. +Andrew's family were having $100,000 contributed to them. Gov. A. was a +good man, but what did _he_ do compared to President Lincoln? Right and +left the latter gave, when he had but little to bestow, and in +consequence his family are now feeling it; yet for my life I would not +recall a dollar he ever gave. Yet his favorite expression, when I have +playfully alluded to the 'rainy day' that might be in store for _himself +and his own_ on several occasions, he has looked at me so earnestly and +replied, 'Cast your bread upon the waters.' Although the petty sum of +$22,000 was an insufficient return for Congress to make me, and +allowanced to its meagreness by men who traduced and vilified the loved +wife of the great man who _made them_, and from whom they amassed great +fortunes--for _Weed, and Seward, and R._ did this last. And yet, _all +this_ was permitted by an American people, who owed _their_ remaining a +nation to my husband! I have dwelt too long on this painful subject, but +when I have been compelled from a pitiful income to make a +boarding-house of my home, as I now am doing, think you that it does +not rankle in my heart? + +"Fortunately, with my husband's great, great love for me--the knowledge +of this future for his petted and idolized wife was spared him, and yet +I feel in my heart _he_ knows it all. Mr. Sumner, the intimate friend of +better days, called to see me two or three weeks since--he who had been +an habitue of the White House--both the rooms of the President and my +own reception-room, in either place he was always sure of a heartfelt +welcome; my present situation must have struck a painful chord in his +noble, sympathizing heart. And yet, when I endeavored to ameliorate my +condition, the cry has been so fearful against me as to cause me to +forget my own identity, and suppose I had plundered the nation, indeed, +and committed murder. This, certainly, cannot be America, 'the land of +the _free_,' the 'home of the _brave_.' The evening before Mr. Sumner's +last call I had received Mr. Douglass's letter; I mentioned the +circumstance to Mr. Sumner, who replied: 'Mr. Frederick Douglass is a +very noble, talented man, and I know of no one who writes a more +beautiful letter.' I am sending you a long letter, Lizzie, but I rely a +great deal on your indulgence. My fear is that you will not be able to +decipher the scrawl written so hastily. + + "I remain, truly yours, + "MARY LINCOLN." + + +"CHICAGO, Nov. 17. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--By the time you receive this note, you will doubtless +find the papers _raving_ over the large income which we are each _said_ +to have. Knowing exactly the amount we each will have, which I have +already informed you, I was going to say, I have been shocked at the +_fabulous_ sum set down to each, but I have learned not to be surprised +at anything. Of course it is gotten up to defeat success. _You_ will +_now_ see the necessity for those circulars being issued weeks since. I +enclose you a scrap from yesterday's _Times_ of C., marked No. 1; also +No. 2, to-day's _Times_. The sum of $11,000 has been subtracted in +twenty-four hours from the same paper. If it continues for a few days +longer, it will soon be right. It is a secesh paper--says Congress gave +me $25,000 as a _present_, besides $20,000 of remaining salary. The +$25,000 _you_ know to be utterly false. You can show this note to B. & +K., also the scraps sent. Let no one see them but themselves, and then +burn them. It is all just as I expected--that when the division took +place, a 'mountain would be made of a mole-hill.' And I fear it will +succeed in injuring the premeditated plans. If the _war rages_, the +_Evening News_ might simply say that the sum assigned each was false, +that $75,000 was the sum the administrator, Judge Davis, filed his bonds +for. But by all means _my authority_ must not be given. And then the +_Evening News_ can descant on the $25,000 each, with income of $1,700 +each, and Mrs. Lincoln's share, she not being able to touch any of her +sons' portion. My _word_ or _testimony_ must not appear in the article; +only the paper must speak _decidedly_. It must be managed very +judiciously, and without a day's delay. + + "Yours truly, + "M. L." + + +"Nov 17--(Private for yourself). + +"LIZZIE:--Show the note enclosed with this to B. & K.; do not let them +retain it an instant after reading, nor the printed articles. I knew +these falsehoods would be circulated when the estate was divided. What +_has_ been the cause of the delay about the circulars? I fear, between +ourselves, we have reason to distrust those men,----. Whatever is raised +by the colored people, I solemnly give my word, at my death it shall +_all_, every cent, be returned to them. And out of the sum, if it is +$50,000, _you_ shall have $5,000 at my death; and I cannot live long, +suffering as I am now doing. If $25,000 is raised by your people, you +shall have the sum at my death; and in either event, the $25,000 raised, +or $50,000, I will give you $300 a year, and the promised sum at my +death. It will make your life easier. I have more faith in F.D.'s and +G.'s efforts, than in B. & K., I assure you. This division has been +trumped up just now through spite. * * I have written to Judge Davis for +an exact statement, which I will send to you when received. Write if +any thing is doing. * * * + + "Truly, + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, November 21. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letter of Tuesday is just received. I have just +written B. a note of thanks for his kindness; also requesting the +articles of which I gave you a list. Do see Keyes about it; K. will have +it done. And will you _see_ that they are forwarded to _me_ before _you_ +leave New York? K. sent me a telegram on yesterday that eight names were +on the circulars, and that they would be sent out _immediately_. What +success do you think they will have? By all means assure K. & B. I have +great confidence in them. These circulars must bring some money. Your +letter made me quite sad. Talk to K. & B. of the _grateful feelings_ I +express towards them. Do pet up B., and see my things returned to me. +Can you not, dear Lizzie, be employed in sewing for some of your lady +friends in New York until December 1st? If I _ever_ get any money you +will be well remembered, be assured. R. and a party of young men leave +for the Rocky Mountains next Monday, to be absent three weeks. If the +circulars are sent out, of course the _blasts_ will be blown over again. +So R. is out of the way _at the time_, and money comes in, I will not +care. Write the hour you receive this. I hope they will send out 150,000 +circulars. Urge K. & B. to do this. + + "Your friend, + "M. L." + + +"Saturday Morning, November 23d. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Although I am suffering with a fearful headache +to-day, yet, as your note of Wednesday is received, I must write. I am +grieved to find that you are so wretchedly low-spirited. * * * On +Wednesday, the 20th of November, K. sent me the telegram I send you. If +he is not in earnest, what does it mean? What is the rate of expenses +that B. has gone to in my business, that he dares to withhold my immense +amount of goods? Do you believe they _intend_ sending out those +circulars? Of course you will be well rewarded if we have any success, +but as to $500 'now,' I have it not for myself, or any one else. Pray, +what does B. propose to charge for _his expenses_? I pray God there will +be some success, although, dear Lizzie, entirely between ourselves, I +fear I am in villanous hands. As to money, I haven't it for myself just +now, even if nothing comes in. When I get my things back, if ever, +from----, I will send you some of those dresses to dispose of at +Washington for your own benefit. If we get something, you will find that +_promises_ and performance for _this_ life will be forth-coming. * * * * +It is _mysterious_ why B. NEVER writes, and K. _once_, perhaps, in three +weeks. All this is very strange. * * + + "M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Sunday, Nov. 24th. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--I wrote you on yesterday and am aware it was not a +pleasant letter, although I wrote what I fear will turn out to be +_truths_. It will be two weeks to-morrow since the legally attested +consent from me was received by B. and K., and yet _names_ have not been +obtained for it, when last heard from. * * However, we will soon see for +ourselves. If you and I are honest in our motives and intentions, it is +no reason _all_ the world is so. * * * If I should gain nothing +pecuniarily by the loud cry that has been made over my affairs, it has +been a losing game indeed. * * * * And the laugh of the world will be +against me if it turns out as I _now_ think; there is no doubt it will +be _all_ failure. If they had issued those circulars when they should +have done, before the election, then it would have been all right. Alas! +alas! what a mistake it has all been! I have thought seriously over the +whole business, and know what I am about. I am grateful for the sympathy +of Mr. F. Douglass and Mr. Garnet. I see that F. D. is advertised to +lecture in Chicago some time this winter. Tell him, for me, he must call +and see me; give him my number. If I had been able to retain a house, I +should have offered him apartments when he came to C.; as it is, I have +to content _myself_ with lodgings. An ungrateful country this! I very +much fear the malignity of Seward, Weed, and R. will operate in Congress +the coming winter, and that I will be denounced _there_, with their +infamous and villanous falsehoods. The father of wickedness and lies +will get those men when they 'pass away;' and such fiends as they are, +always linger in this mortal sphere. The agitation of mind has very much +impaired my health. * * * * Why, why was not I taken when my darling +husband was called from my side? I have been allowed no rest by those +who, in my desolation, should have protected me. * * * * How dearly I +should love to see you _this very sad day_. Never, dear Lizzie, think of +my great nervousness the night before we parted; I had been so harassed +with my fears. * * * * + + "Always yours, + "M. L." + + +"December 26. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your letters just received. I have just written to K. +to withdraw the C. Go to him yourself the moment you receive this. The +idea of Congress doing anything is ridiculous. How much ---- could +effect _if he chose_, through others. Go to B. & K. the moment you +receive this. + + "Yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, December 27. + +"DEAR LIZZIE:--I wrote you a few lines on yesterday. I have twice +written to Mr. K. to have the C. stopped. Go and see him on the subject. +I believe any more newspaper attacks would _lay me low_ * * * As +_influence_ has passed away from me with my husband, my slightest act is +misinterpreted. '_Time makes all things_ right.' I am positively +suffering for a decent dress. I see Mr. A. and _some recent_ visitors +eyeing my clothing askance. * * Do send my black merino dress to me very +soon; I must dress better in the future. I tremble at the bill that B. & +K. may send me, I am so illy prepared to meet any expense. All my +articles not sold must be sent to me. I leave _this_ place _early_ in +the spring; had you better not go with me and share my fortunes, for a +year or more? * * Write. + + "Yours, etc., + M. L." + + +"CLIFTON HOUSE, January 12. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--Your last letter was received a day or two since. I +have moved my quarters to _this house_, so please direct all your +letters _here_. Why did _you_ not urge them _not_ to take my goods to +Providence? For heaven's sake see K. & B. when you receive this, and +have them immediately returned to me, _with their bill_. I am so +miserable I feel like taking my own life. My darling boy, my Taddie +_alone_, I _fully_ believe, prevents the deed. Your letter announcing +that my clothes[C] were to be paraded in Europe--those I gave you--has +almost turned me wild. R. would go _raving distracted_ if such a thing +was done. If you have the _least regard_ for our reason, pray write to +the bishop that it _must_ not be done. How little did I suppose you +would do _such a thing_; you cannot imagine how much my overwhelming +sorrows would be increased. May kind Heaven turn your heart, and have +you write that _this_ exhibition must not be attempted. R. would blast +us all if you were to have this project carried out. Do remember _us_ in +our unmitigated anguish, and have those clothes, worn on those fearful +occasions, recalled. * * I am positively dying with a broken heart, and +the probability is that I shall be living but a _very_ short time. May +we all meet in a better world, where _such grief_ is unknown. Write me +all about yourself. I should like you to have about four black widow's +caps, just such as I had made in the fall in New York, sent to me. * * * +Of course you would not suppose, if I had you come out here and work for +me six weeks, I would not pay your expenses and pay you as you made +_each_ dress. The probability is that I shall need _few_ more clothes; +my rest, I am inclined to believe, is _near at hand_. Go to B. & K., and +have my clothes sent me without further publicity. * * * I am feeling +too weak to write more to-day. Why are you so silent? For the sake of +_humanity_, if not _me_ and my children, _do not_ have those black +clothes displayed in Europe. The thought has almost whitened every hair +of my head. Write when you receive this. + + "Your friend, + M. L." + +FOOTNOTE: + + [Footnote C: The clothes that I have given for the benefit of + Wilberforce College. They have been deeded to Bishop Payne, + who will do with them as he thinks best, for the cause to + which they are dedicated. The letter on page 366 will explain + more fully.] + + +"NEW YORK CITY, Jan. 1st, 1868. + +"BISHOP PAYNE, D.D.--DEAR SIR:--Allow me to donate certain valuable +relics, to be exhibited for the benefit of Wilberforce University, where +my son was educated, and whose life was sacrificed for liberty. These +sacred relics were presented to me by Mrs. Lincoln, after the +assassination of our beloved President. Learning that you were +struggling to get means to complete the college that was burned on the +day our great emancipator was assassinated, prompted me to donate, in +trust to J. P. Ball (agent for Wilberforce College), the identical cloak +and bonnet worn by Mrs. Lincoln on that eventful night. On the cloak can +be seen the life-blood of Abraham Lincoln. This cloak could not be +purchased from me, though many have been the offers for it. I deemed it +too _sacred_ to sell, but donate it for the cause of educating the four +millions of slaves liberated by our President, whose private character I +revere. You well know that I had every chance to learn the true man, +being constantly in the White House during his whole administration. I +also donate the glove[D] worn on his precious hand at the last inaugural +reception. This glove bears the marks of thousands who shook his hand on +that last and great occasion. This, and many other relics, I hope you +will receive in the name of the Lincoln fund. I also donate the dress +worn by Mrs. Lincoln at the last inaugural address of President Lincoln. +Please receive these from-- + + Your sister in Christ, + "L. KECKLEY." + +FOOTNOTE: + + [Footnote D: I have since concluded to retain the glove as a + precious _souvenir_ of our beloved President.] + + +"CLIFTON HOUSE, Jan. 15, 1868. + +"MY DEAR LIZZIE:--You will think I am sending you a deluge of letters. I +am so very sad today, that I feel that I must write you. I went out last +evening with Tad, on a little business, in a street car, heavily veiled, +very imprudently having _my month's living_ in my pocket-book--and, on +return, found it gone. The loss I deserve for being so careless, but it +comes very hard on poor me. Troubles and misfortunes are fast +overwhelming me; may _the end_ soon come. I lost $82, and quite a new +pocket-book. I am very, very anxious about that bill B. & K. may bring +in. Do go, dear Lizzie, and implore them to be moderate, for I am in a +very narrow place. Tell them, I pray you, of this last loss. As they +have not been successful (BETWEEN OURSELVES), and only given me great +sorrow and trouble, I think their demand should be very small. (Do not +mention this to them.) _Do_, dear Lizzie, go to 609, and talk to them on +this subject. Let my things be sent to me immediately, and _do_ see to +it, that nothing is left behind. I can afford to lose nothing they have +had placed in their hands. I am literally suffering for my black dress. +Will you send it to me when you receive this? I am looking very shabby. +I hope you have entirely recovered. _Write_ when you receive this. + + "Very truly yours, + M. L." + + +"CHICAGO, Feb. 7. + +"MR. BRADY:--I hereby authorize Mrs. Keckley to request my bill from +you; also my goods. An exact account must be given of everything, and +all goods unsold returned to me. Pray hand Mrs. Keckley my bill, without +fail, immediately. + + "Respectfully, + "MRS. LINCOLN." + + +"SATURDAY, Feb. 29. + +"DEAR LIZZIE:--I am only able to sit up long enough to write you a line +and enclose this check to Mr. K. Give it to him when he gives you up my +goods, and require from him an exact inventory of them. I will write you +to-morrow. The hour you receive this go to him, get my goods, and do +not _give him the check until_ you get the goods, and be sure you get a +receipt for the check from him. * * In his account given ten days since, +he said we had borrowed $807; now he writes for $820. Ask him what this +means, and get him to deduct the $13. I cannot understand it. A letter +received from K. this morning says if the check is not received the +first of the week, my goods _will be sold_ so do delay not an hour to +see him. * * My diamond ring he writes has been sold; the goods sold +have amounted to $824, and they appropriate all this for their expenses. +A precious set, truly. My diamond ring itself cost more than that sum, +and I charged them not to sell it under $700. Do get my things safely +returned to me. * * * + + "Truly, + "M. L." + + + * * * * * + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Behind the Scenes, by Elizabeth Keckley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEHIND THE SCENES *** + +***** This file should be named 24968.txt or 24968.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/6/24968/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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