XXIII.
MARTHA JOHNSON PATTERSON.
The resemblance to her father is a marked attribute of Mrs. Patterson’s face; a reproduction, though moulded in a softer cast, of his distinct and strong features and expressive eyes. She inherited his executive ability, his comprehensiveness, and many of his characteristic peculiarities. Her countenance denotes strength, and the organs of the head indicate a harmonious and perfect blending with the finer sentiments of the heart.
Eyes large and full discover her power of language, and the development of form, color, size and weight, attest her ability to judge correctly and estimate proportions unerringly. Viewed from a phrenological standpoint, hers is a remarkable organism. The head is symmetrical, tending upward from the brow, indicating spirituality, and gently sloping to the ears and neck, embracing in its outlines the faculties of firmness, generosity and benevolence.
Never led off by persuasion from what her judgment decides correct, she rarely makes a mistake in regard to persons or places, and is the firm advocate of those less fortunate than herself. Like her heart, her mouth is large, the lips partaking more of the intellectual than of the sensual. The length, prominence, and compression of the upper lip, bespeaks the firmness and strength of character which stamps her, wherever she goes, a woman of rare powers. Adapting herself to circumstances, she quickly masters any situation in which she is placed, and controls rather than follows the will of others. The intellectual lobe is large, the perceptive and reflective faculties are harmoniously blended, and withal hers is an educated intellect, with an available mind. She is possessed of almost sleepless energy, and her slight, frail form seems knitted for endurance. Never restless or impatient, she comprehends at a glance her position and requirements, and by the force of her will overcomes obstacles and bears up with fortitude under accumulated trials.
Reared in the mountains of East Tennessee, her nature is untrammeled by artistic contortions, and her manners are as free from ostentation as are the feelings which prompt them. The eldest of five children, she was to her mother an efficient aid in the care of her brothers and sister, and in the management of her house. When she was old enough to attend school, it was her task to assist in keeping house, and no duty was neglected. It has been remarked that she never had time to play. While other school-girls amused themselves in the sports of the season, the pale, quiet Martha Johnson hastened back to relieve her mother, and by her indefatigable industry performed the many deeds so grateful to a parent, when offered by a child. The neighbors called her a strange, silent being, indifferent to the ordinary amusements of the young, but she felt herself ennobled by the work she daily made a part of her life, and passed these younger years in her own earnest way.
She was placed by her father, who was then a member of Congress, at school in Georgetown, where she remained three terms, and there laid the foundation of the structure which, as she grows older, develops her native strength of mind.
It happened that, during her school life in Georgetown, President Polk, of Tennessee, occupied the White House, and she became his frequent guest, spending most of her holidays in the mansion in which, later in life, she was to preside. Her own accounts of her sojourn are amusing, deprecating as she does the awkward conduct of the timid, bashful girl, in the stately residence, through which the voices of children never resounded. She was shy and distant, and the stately kindness of the hostess could not overcome her shrinking reserve; it was her greatest delight then to observe persons, and the opportunity afforded was not lost upon her. She returned home in 1851, and was married to Judge David T. Patterson, on the 13th of December, 1856. No wedding festivities marked the occasion, it being congenial to her habits to have a quiet ceremony. After which she visited Nashville, where her father was residing as Governor of the State. Extending her tour through the Southern cities to New Orleans, she returned to her old home in Tennessee, where she continued to live until the war in 1860 disturbed the private relations of the entire family. Throughout the stormy years of ’61 and ’62, she remained in East Tennessee, nor did she leave there till, late in the next year, she visited her mother’s family at Nashville. It was her intention to remain several months and then go back to her home; but before she again crossed its threshold, the two contending armies had passed through the place, leaving nothing but the empty house. Every particle of furniture, every prized relic of her own and her children’s infant years were gone, and their home was desolated. She trod its familiar apartments where she had left so many mementos of a happy past, and nothing remained save the bare walls. Well she remembered the arranging and adjusting of everything before closing it up, and as she gazed upon its comfortless appearance, her mind dwelt upon the time she had spent in adding to its adornment.
The family were in Nashville when the nomination of the father, then Military Governor of Tennessee, as Vice-President was announced, and they witnessed the delight of the Union men of the Capital, as the news spread of his success.
Early in February, the Vice-President proposed to leave Tennessee, and his children decided to seek once more their home in Greenville. The news of the assassination of President Lincoln flashed over the wires on the morning of the 15th of April, as the drums were beating and soldiers parading for a grand review and procession in honor of the recent victories. It reached the family of Mr. Johnson as they were preparing for their removal home, and awakened in their breasts anxious fears for the fate of the husband and father. Assurances of his safety calmed their minds, and with deep thankfulness that he was spared, they sorrowed for the untimely death of the President. The Nashville papers of the 19th of April thus speak of the funeral procession in honor of the murdered Chief Magistrate:
“All places of business were closed, and every store and dwelling appropriately draped in mourning. The procession numbered upward of fifteen thousand persons; among them were Generals Thomas, Miller, Whipple and Donaldson, and in the line of civilians which swelled its length was seen the carriage of Mrs. James K. Polk, occupied by herself and Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson.”
The family of the new President reached Washington in June, and soon after took up their residence in the White House. Here was a new field entirely for the diffident woman who was compelled to do the honors in lieu of her mother, who was a confirmed invalid. After the harrowing scenes through which the former occupants had passed, the House looked anything but inviting to the family. Soldiers had wandered unchallenged the entire suites of parlors; and the East Room, dirty and soiled, looked as little like itself as could be imagined. Guards had slept upon the sofas and carpets until they were ruined, and the immense crowds who, during the preceding years of war, filled the President’s house continually, had worn out the already ancient furniture. No sign of neatness or comfort greeted their appearance at their new home, but evidences everywhere of neglect and decay met their eyes. To put aside all ceremony and work constantly, was the portion of Mrs. Patterson, under whose control were placed the numerous servants connected with the establishment.
“The first reception held by President Johnson was on the first of January, 1866, assisted by Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover, his two daughters. Their softness and ease of manner had an eloquent external expression in the simple neatness of their apparel, and surpassed in quiet dignity all who gathered to see them. The house had not been renovated, and the apartments were dingy and destitute of ornament save two kinds, which are more touchingly beautiful than gems of the East. Natural flowers were in profusion, and left their fragrance, while the little children of the house were living, breathing ornaments attracting every eye. The old injured furniture of the East Room was removed, and the worn-out carpets covered with linen. The supervision of Mrs. Patterson made the house quite presentable. Mrs. Patterson was attired in a blue velvet, white lace shawl, and point lace collar. Her dark hair was put back from her face, with pendent tresses, and adorned with a single white flower. Mrs. Stover, who was yet in half-mourning for her gallant husband, wore a heavy black silk, with no ornaments in her light hair.”
During the early spring an appropriation was made by Congress of thirty thousand dollars to refurnish the Executive Mansion, and during the long and warm summer succeeding, Mrs. Patterson struggled unceasingly with the atlas-heaps of lumber and old furniture scarcely worth repairing, but which was renovated for use. The firmness and decision of her character was fully tested in this trying ordeal, but she triumphed over every difficulty, and so managed the amount appropriated that the Executive Mansion was once more comfortable and more beautiful than ever before.
Appreciating the condition of the country just emerging from a long strife, she determined to make the funds voted sufficient to satisfy the demands of the upholsterer, and to do so she constituted herself agent.
Hearing the proposals of various firms, she found, to put the matter in other hands, she could not more than furnish the parlors and reception-rooms, and then her determination was formed to superintend the purchases. By dint of perseverance and the co-operation of competent assistants, she had the house completed when the winter season approached. Old and abused sets were repolished and covered, and the papering which she had not the means to remove entirely, was made to assume a brighter appearance by the addition of panelings and gilt ornaments.
The warm weather, which had ever found her before the war in her mountain home, now came upon her in its intensity, as she labored with her numerous assistants in arranging the comfortless residence over which she presided. Who, while admiring the elegant and refined atmosphere of the historic house during her father’s administration, imagined that the entire labor was accomplished by the tact and energy of the daughter who received and entertained her visitors so unostentatiously?
Tenderly caring for her invalid mother, and her children, who grew weary of the restraints imposed upon them, she struggled on and succeeded in making the house not only attractive to her friends, but to citizens and strangers, who pronounced it handsomer than it ever was in times past. The exquisite walls of the Blue Room long remained a lasting proof of her artistic and cultivated taste, and the graceful adornments of the hitherto stiff and ungainly East Room were evidences of her ability. A newspaper correspondent who visited the White House complimented Mrs. Patterson upon the Republican simplicity of the establishment, to which she replied, “We are a plain people, sir, from the mountains of Tennessee, and we do not propose to put on airs because we have the fortune to occupy this place for a little while.” “There is a homeliness in this utterance,” said the Albany Evening Journal, “which will shock the sensitive refinement of ‘ottar of roses and lavender water classes,’ but it has a sentiment in it which must meet with response from every true lover of democratic ideas and practices.”
Throughout the White House there existed not a single evidence of tawdry gaudiness or coarseness in color or quality; and from cellar to garret it was overhauled and adorned by the unaffected hostess, who called herself “a plain person from East Tennessee.”
“The reference of Mrs. Patterson to the mountain home of her family, is suggestive of the fact that when the tornado of war was sweeping over Tennessee, President Johnson’s kin dwelt where its ravages were most dreadful, and that while some who are now leading the shoddy aristocracy of the metropolis were coining their ill-gotten dollars from the sufferings and blood of brave men, they were being hunted from point to point, driven to seek a refuge in the solitude of the wilderness, forced to subsist on coarse and insufficient food, and more than once called to bury with secret and stolen sepulture those whom they loved: murdered because they would not join in deeds of odious treason to union and liberty. A family with such a record of devotion and suffering, needs for its recognition none of the adventitious aids of show and pretence. It is refreshing in these days of extravagant and pompous display, when silly pretence is made to pass current for gentility, when bombast and fustian are palmed off as good breeding, when the shopman’s wife emulates the luxury of a duke’s household, when no one is presumed to be worthy the honors of good society who does not ‘put on airs,’ to hear that the President’s daughter, who, by courtesy of her new position as his housekeeper, is the first lady of the land, proposes to set the example of a truly republican simplicity all too rare among those who influence the customs of the land.”
In September, 1867, Mrs. Patterson accompanied the Presidential party on their tour through the Northern and Western States, leaving her two children with her mother at the White House. Returning in a few weeks, she resumed the routine of her life, and prepared for the approaching season.
Mrs. Patterson is the first instance of the wife of a Senator and a daughter of the President presiding over the Executive Mansion. President Jefferson’s second daughter, Mrs. Eppes, held a similar position, but she never presided over the Mansion, and was but once a visitor at the President’s house during her short life, after her father’s election. The threefold responsibilities were accepted and endured with a calm reliance, on the energies of a mind ever ready for the occasion, and the world has already rendered the verdict of “many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.”
Simple but elegant in her apparel, never descending to a disregard of place, yet not carried away by the follies of fashion, Mrs. Patterson pleased the eye, and gratified the pride of all who felt an interest in her success. Golden opinions of her taste were won by the rich simplicity of her toilet on every public occasion, and the beauty of her dress in part consisted in the artless, unassuming manner of the wearer.
In the combined elements which go to form the marked character of Mrs. Patterson, she was not unlike Mrs. John Adams, and her will-power, guided by superior common sense, recalls to mind the life of that brave woman of the Revolution; but the current of circumstances into which she has been thrown, has been almost too strong to allow her perfect freedom of action. In her life there has never come a time when she might choose between diverging pathways; but if she could not alter the stern fiats of fate, she had the power of dignifying little insignificant things, and, by her manner of meeting them, making the pleasantest side appear. In an eminent degree she inherits that most marked trait of her father’s character, patient endurance, and knows “how sublime a thing it is, to suffer and be strong.” Treading unmurmuringly the appointed way of life, she depends upon her judgment to guide her bark, recognizing the fact that when nature fills the sails the vessel goes smoothly on; and when judgment is the pilot the insurance need not be high.
In the higher walks of literary pursuits she will never shine, nor yet as a conspicuous person in any department of life. She has essentially a Southerner’s love of home; and the duties devolving upon her as a mother, daughter, and wife, fill the meed of her ambition. True to principle, she will perform the duties of her station, be it high or low, and the amount of courage hidden away in the recesses of her nature would lead her in emergencies to dare—if need be—to die.
Simple to a fault in her desires, she has learned to gather happiness from within, and to rely upon the cold charity of the world for nothing. She would not pine for luxuries which others deem necessities, but even rather scorns the value many set upon them. Reared as she was in childhood by parents remarkable for ceaseless industry, she imbibed the lessons taught her by example, and is energetic to restlessness, and vigilant in working while the day lasts.
During the impeachment trial of her father, Mrs. Patterson was asked what she thought of it, and how it would terminate. “I have so much to do,” she replied, “that I have no time to discuss the subject, and I suppose my private opinion is not worth much; I do not know how it will end, but all we can do is to wait.” And she did wait, bending every energy to entertain as became her position, and wearing always a patient, suffering look. Through the long weeks of the trial, she listened to every request, saw every caller, and served every petitioner (and only those who have filled this position know how arduous is this duty), hiding from all eyes the anxious weight of care oppressing her. If she was indisposed after the acquittal, it surprised no one who had seen her struggling to keep up before.
There are no triumphs or displays to record of her life, no travels in foreign lands, nor novel sights of strange places. She has not stood in the Orient and watched the great stars swim down hot southern skies, nor heard from the distant palm groves the orioles and nightingales. The even tenor of her way has been spent far from the palaces of luxury or the frivolities of fashion. She has not trodden the gilded halls of ephemeral wealth, nor basked in the sunlight of uninterrupted prosperity, but from the emanations of her father’s genius she has gathered the forces which strengthen her own mind, and the rounds she has mounted in the ladder of progressive development have been won by earnest thought and the gradual experiences of a still young life.
She more than any other of her name and race, appreciated the giant efforts of her father, and upon her he devoted most attention. The companion in childhood of the village tailor, she became in womanhood the counsellor and friend of the successful statesman.
Louis Napoleon, in his Life of Julius Cæsar, says: “How little able are common men to judge of the motives which govern great souls.” The history of Mrs. Patterson’s stay in the Executive Mansion suggests the thought how unappreciated she was by those who fawned around her in her hour of triumph. Possessing native intellect to a high degree, she knows her latent powers, and her head thinks and her soul feels the difference between her sound principles and practical sense, and the flippant, vain women who consider her unfashionable. With such a class she could have no sympathy; and it is foreign to her nature to dissemble. Circumventing all attempts at advice and assistance, she taught many who insisted upon helping her, that a sensible woman is never at a loss for words or manners, and to such Presidents’ houses are as simple residences, requiring only the refinement of the lady and the ability of a resolute, determined person. Genial and social to familiar friends, she was generally distant and reserved toward promiscuous visitors; while, at the same time, she had a high sense of the justice due the masses from the family of the first official in the nation. This feeling of duty toward others actuated her course in keeping the White House ready always to be seen by the crowds who daily throng it. Parlors and conservatories were kept open as much as consistent, though many times very annoying to the inmates, and rendering the privacy of their own apartments rather a matter of chance than of certainty. It was not unfrequent that idle curiosity-seekers ventured through the closed doors which separated the private from the public wing of the building, and intruded upon the forbearing occupants; yet such occurrences were never made the occasion of trouble—a polite request and pleasant acceptance of the proffered apology sufficed, and not unfrequently added the offenders of etiquette to her list of new-made friends.
It was the custom of Mrs. Patterson to rise early; and after a simple toilet, to skim the milk and attend to the dairy before breakfast. In the hall connecting the conservatory to the main building, her clean pails might be seen ranged in regular order. When, on Saturday afternoons, the greenhouses were thrown open to the public, these evidences of her housekeeping propensities were removed. Fond of the delicacies of the table, she valued home-made articles, and the delicious food found always upon her table gave evidence of her personal oversight and thoughtfulness.
Caring for real comforts, to the exclusion of costly expenditures, she prided herself upon gratifying the wants and tastes of her household, and rendering the domestic life of the White House a reality.
In the possession of such principles, and actuated by motives which redound to her praise, Mrs. Patterson’s life cannot fail to be worthy of emulation, and the satisfaction of her conscience must be a well-spring of pleasure, sparkling like sunshine through the darkest places in her earthly career.
The last levee held by President Johnson was discussed by a Washington paper after the following manner:
“The levees at the Executive Mansion have always been occasions of especial interest to strangers who chanced to be in Washington during the session of Congress; but never before, since receptions were inaugurated, has there been such an ovation at a Presidential levee as was last night at President Johnson’s closing reception. The attendance comprised not only an unusual number of our own citizens, but also a greater multitude of visitors from all parts of the world, than was ever present on a similar occasion. As early as half-past seven, and long before the doors were opened, there were numerous arrivals at the Presidential Mansion. An hour later, and the rush had commenced in good earnest. A long line of carriages extended from the street to the portico in front of the house; every car on the F street and avenue lines added fresh accessions to the crowd; while hundreds, availing themselves of the pleasant weather, came on foot. Although an extra police force had been detailed for the evening, and every arrangement had been made in the cloak-room for the accommodation of all, so great was the rush that confusion was, in a measure, unavoidable. The dressing-rooms and corridors were closely packed with people mainly striving to reach the entrance to the Reception-room, and it was found necessary to close the outside doors, and also the door leading from the hall into the Red Parlor. The crowd here was fearful, but, fortunately, it was composed mainly of the male sex.
“Those in front were pushed on by those behind, and the position of every one was most uncomfortable, while at one time, persons were in actual danger of being crushed. However, the utmost good humor prevailed, and we heard of no accidents. In the ladies’ dressing-room, the pressure was also very great, and the breaking down of a table caused some thoughtless person to raise an alarm of fire, which for a few moments created terror and consternation among the timid fair ones. At ten o’clock, the line of equipages not only filled the carriage-way from the east to the west gate, but extended for two squares on Pennsylvania Avenue.
“The space in front of the Mansion, and the sidewalk from the portico to the gate, was crowded with people, waiting in the hope of gaining admission to the house. Policemen were now stationed at the front entrance, and only a few were admitted at a time. Those who made their exit from the mansion were obliged to pass under the arms of the policemen, who were stationed to keep back the surging crowd. Hundreds left unable even to reach the portico. The door leading to the ladies’ dressing-room was blocked by gentlemen looking for those under their charge, while scores of bright eyes searched anxiously through the throng seeking in vain for escorts not to be found. Many of the ladies, unable to find their escorts, were pushed on by the crowd, and were obliged to make their entrance into the Blue Room unattended, and in several instances it was not until the close of the reception that parties who had been separated at the commencement of the evening were again united.
“The President occupied his usual position near the entrance of the Blue Parlor, the visitors being presented by Marshal Gording. From eight o’clock until after eleven, the crowd poured through the apartments, and to each person, however humble his or her station, President Johnson extended a pleasant and cordial greeting. Mrs. Patterson, who stood at the right of the President, and a few steps farther back in the room, was attired with customary taste and elegance. She wore a Lyons black velvet, handsomely trimmed with bands of satin and black lace. A shawl of white thread lace fell in graceful folds over her dress. Her hair was simply and becomingly ornamented, and her jewelry was of the most chaste description. The ceremony of introduction was graciously performed by General Mickler. In the vast concourse assembled to pay their respects to the retiring Chief Magistrate were many persons of distinction from abroad, as well as an unusual number of Washington celebrities. From Maine to Florida, and from the Atlantic coast to the seaboard on the Pacific, there was scarcely a State or Territory that was not represented last night, at the farewell reception of Andrew Johnson, whose kindly grasp and sincere smile called forth many a hearty wish for his future happiness and prosperity. Exquisite bouquets of choice exotics were scattered through the rooms. The superb East Parlor was dazzlingly illuminated. Magnificent mirrors flashed back the light from the quivering crystals of the massive chandeliers. From the ante-chamber came the sweet strains of the Marine Band, floating in softened cadence through the sumptuous apartments. The scene was one of unrivalled interest, and will never be forgotten by those who were present. The display of wealth and beauty was bewildering. It would be a difficult task to describe the toilettes of the many lovely ladies present, and it would be still harder to decide, among so large a number of magnificent dresses, which was the most beautiful.”
Another prominent daily contained a lengthy and interesting account of this reception, the largest ever held in the Executive Mansion, and from all the circumstances connected with the unpleasant political life of the President, was a significant proof that he was socially pre-eminently popular. Every grade of citizens, representing every party and creed, vied with each other in their expressions of admiration for the honest, upright conduct of the retiring Executive and his charming daughters.
“Last night, President Johnson held his farewell reception at the White House, and certainly quite in a blaze of glory, as far as social attention is concerned. Perhaps the whole history of the Presidential Mansion gives no record of such a crowded reception. It is estimated that some five thousand people sought admittance in vain, while fully as many must have gained an entrance, almost each individual member of this successful crowd submitting the host of the evening to the inevitable hand-shaking. He bore it well, and until the last moment a sweet, suffering smile irradiated his countenance. The band struck up ‘Hail Columbia,’ and the doors were thrown open. The President received the crowd in the Blue Room, which was handsomely lighted up, and adorned in the centre with a magnificent stand of fragrant flowers. As the crowd increased, the sagacious official abandoned the system of announcing names, so that the President accepted without explanation all who presented themselves.
“A few steps from the President, and near the stand of flowers, Mrs. Patterson, a handsome, though not tall lady, of very pleasing manners and appearance, ‘received’ the lady guests. She wore an elegant white lace shawl, which quite enveloped her person, and a long curl fell down her back. The simply unaffected grace of this lady, and her entire freedom from pretension, either in garb or manner, attracted highly favorable comment. Mrs. Patterson is quite a young lady, and when some of the bare-armed, bare-necked, would-be-juvenile dowagers were presented to her, the contrast was entirely in favor of the President’s daughter.”
Of the many elegant entertainments given by President Johnson, none surpassed the State dinners. They were conducted on a most generous and princely scale, and reflected lasting honor upon the taste and judgment of his daughter, to whom was left the entire arrangement of every social entertainment. The magnificent State dining-room, which had been closed during the last few years of President Lincoln’s administration, became again a scene of hospitality, and resounded once more with the voices of welcome guests and personal friends.
Nothing contributed more than these “affairs of State” to win for the family that popularity, apart from their lofty social position, which they enjoyed whilst in Washington. A letter written by a lady who was familiar with the home-life of Mrs. Patterson, may not prove uninteresting, pertaining, as it does, particularly to the subject of State dinners.
“Late in the afternoon I was sitting in the cheerful room occupied by the invalid mother, when Mrs. Patterson came for me to go and see the table. The last State dinner was to be given this night, and the preparations for the occurrence had been commensurate with those of former occasions. I looked at the invalid, whose feet had never crossed the apartment to which we were going, and by whom the elegant entertainments over which her daughters presided, were totally unenjoyed. Through the hall and down the stairway, I followed my hostess and stood beside her in the grand old room. It was a beautiful and altogether rare scene which I viewed in the quiet light of this closing winter day, and the recollections and associations of the time linger most vividly in memory now. The table was arranged for forty persons, each guest’s name being upon the plate designated in the invitation list.
“In the centre stood three magnificent ormolu ornaments filled with fadeless French flowers, while beside each plate was a bouquet of odorous green-house exotics. It was not the color or design of the Sevres china, of green and gold—the fragile glass, nor yet the massive plate which attracted my admiration, but the harmony of the whole, which satisfied and refreshed. From the heavy curtains, depending from the lofty windows, to the smallest ornament in the room, all was ornate and consistent. I could not but contrast this vision of grandeur with the delicate, child-like form of the woman who watched me with a quiet smile as I enjoyed this evidence of her taste and appreciation of the beautiful.
“All day she had watched over the movements of those engaged in the arrangement of this room, and yet so unobtrusive had been her presence and so systematically had she planned, that no confusion occurred in the complicated household machinery. For the pleasure it would give her children hereafter, she had an artist photograph the interior of the apartment, and he was just leaving with his trophy when we entered.
“Long we lingered, enjoying the satisfaction one experiences in beholding a beautiful and finished task. All was ready and complete, and when we passed from the room, there was still a time for rest and repose before the hour named in the cards of invitation.
“Through the Red and Blue parlors we sauntered slowly, she recalling reminiscences of the past four years, and speaking with unreserved frankness of her feelings on her approaching departure. It was almost twilight as we entered the East Room, and its sombreness and wondrous size struck me forcibly. The hour for strangers and visitors had past, and we felt secure to wander in our old-fashioned way up and down its great length. It was softly raining, we discovered as we peered through the window, and a light fringe of mist hung over the trees in the grounds, and added a shade of gloom to the cheerless view. The feeling of bodily comfort one has in watching it rain, from the window of a cozy room, was intensified by the associations of this historic place, and the sadness of time was lost in the outreachings of eternity.
“Its spectral appearance as we turned from the window and looked down its shadowy outlines—the quickly succeeding thoughts of the many who had crowded into its now deserted space, and the remembrance of some who would no more come, were fast crowding out the practical, and leaving in its place mental excitement, and spiritualized, nervous influences, not compatible with ordinary every-day life. Mrs. Patterson was first to note the flight of time, and as we turned to leave with the past the hour it claimed, her always grave face lighted up with a genuine happy expression, as she said, ‘I am glad this is the last of entertainments—it suits me better to be quiet and in my own home. Mother is not able to enjoy these things. Belle is too young, and I am indifferent to them—so it is well it is almost over.’ As she ceased speaking the curtains over the main entrance parted, and the President peered in, ‘to see,’ he said, ‘if Martha had shown you the portraits of the Presidents?’ Joining him in his promenade, we passed before them, as they were hanging in the main hall, he dwelling upon the life and character of each, and we listening to his descriptions, and personal recollections. The long shadows of twilight and deepening gloom disappeared before the brilliant glare of the gas, and we turned from this place of interest, reminded that the present was only ours, and with the past we could have no possible business when inexorable custom demanded of us speedy recognition and attention.”
On the morning of the 4th of March, 1869, President Johnson, accompanied by his family, bade adieu to the servants and employés of the Mansion, and were driven to the residence of Mr. Coyle, on Missouri Avenue. Mrs. Patterson accepted the hospitality of Secretary Wells, and reached there soon after twelve o’clock.
Thus closed the administration of President Johnson. The most perilous, stormy, and trying one ever known in the history of this country; a record of rude unpleasant contact with defiled revilers, and a continued struggle from first to last to maintain untarnished the oath too sacred to be violated. Not here, but in the annals of history will all its triumphs be written; not in this day or generation can its untainted and correct measures be fully estimated, but to the coming men of America it is bequeathed, a sad acknowledgment of the tyrannous oppression of a President, and a testimony of his undeviating course, moving onward, swerving neither to the right nor to the left, but forward to the cradles of posterity who will pass judgment and wreathe immortelles to the memory of the patriot, whose truth will not be doubted, whose honesty cannot be impeached.
During the afternoon of the day the President left the Executive Mansion, the house in which he was a visitor was crowded to overflowing with friends and admirers who gathered about the members of his family to express their attachment. For two weeks the same scene was re-enacted, and day and night the numerous callers crowded the spacious dwelling. One continued ovation of people of every political party assured them of their popularity, too wide-spread to be circumscribed by party lines. Behold them, reader, as they were seen that last night in Washington! The invalid wife is in her room, too feeble to walk, but surrounded by hearts softened and eyes moistened at the prospect of seeing her no more. Mrs. Patterson is bidding a farewell to the sorrowing band of employés who have asked as a last favor for a photograph, and she makes the gift the more acceptable by presenting them with pictures of all the family, accompanied by her deeply felt and eloquently expressed thanks for faithful services and personal friendship. Ever and anon the familiar face of a servant appears, and is not disappointed in the welcome received, or the parting token of well-merited reward for faithful services. Flowers, “recalling all life’s wine and honey,” shed their aroma through space, and soften by their delicate beauty the feelings of all kindly natures.
Time unheeded passes, and yet the advent of callers forbids the wearied eyes to close, or the final preparations to be made. With a hand raw and swollen from the hand-shakings in Baltimore a few days before, Mr. Johnson stands placid, earnest, and deeply interested in the final words of all. The lateness of the hour, not the last of the stream of visitors ended the affecting scene, and a weary but happy household slept at last, and their public life in Washington was ended.