When finished, this mansion was three stories in height, being perfectly plain with the exception of two fine doorways, the one on the front being much the more elaborate. These have never been changed since the days they were placed there. Whether the walls were built to resist attacks of the Indians or not will never be known, but they are eighteen inches thick, making the house one of the warmest of that period.
The plans of the house were designed in accordance with the wishes of the bride, who was no less a personage than Sarah Wentworth, the daughter of Governor John Wentworth, and one of the reigning belles of Portsmouth. That it was an expensive house is shown from the fact that it cost six thousand pounds or thirty thousand dollars, a considerable sum to be spent in those early days, when money was not plentiful. The furniture was all imported, brought over in Captain Macphaedris' ships and especially designed for the house. It was in many respects quite different from much of the furniture that had been brought into the colony, and as much of the original is still shown, we realize how carefully the captain must have sought to combine beauty and comfort.
The house was most carefully built, for it was first commenced in 1718 and not completed until five years later, in 1723. In all probability the opening of the house was attended by a large housewarming, to which the dignitaries of Portsmouth, including Governor John Wentworth, were invited, but the event was considered of too little importance to be mentioned in the annals that are left concerning the mansion.
By a strange irony of fate, the name of the man whose money and brains built the house is rarely associated with it; the fine old pile is known far and near by the name of the man who married the captain's daughter Mary, a comely lass who was a great belle in the town. He was the Hon. Jonathan Warner, a member of the King's Council until the Revolution made his commission ineffective. Mr. Warner was a familiar figure about Portsmouth in the latter days of the eighteenth century and is spoken of, in an old review, as "one of the last of the cocked hats." He invariably wore a long-skirted brown coat, small clothes, silk stockings, and buckles on his shoes. He always carried a cane, and his dignified bearing never failed to impress the youngsters of the place with proper respect, and they always courteously saluted him as he passed. And to-day the visitor at Portsmouth has the Macphaedris-Warner house pointed out to him as the Warner house.
There can be no better proof that this house was well built than the fact that it has withstood the ravages of New England weather for nearly two hundred years and is still in good condition, the eighteen-inch walls of honest Dutch brick as staunch as the day they were laid. The gambrel roof, the Lutheran windows, and the quaint cupola all mark this three-storied house as a genuine old-timer, and the broad, simply ornamented doorways are suggestive of good old colonial hospitality, for this house was the scene of many a merrymaking. Over the brick pavement, laid herring-bone pattern, and up the stone steps came many a dignitary of the land, who lifted the ponderous brass knocker, and as the panelled door swung back on its long, strapped hinges, entered the spacious hall, which extends the entire length of the house.
There are a few pieces of the old mahogany furniture left, showing to best advantage against the white panelling of the wall. The staircase at the extreme left is hand-carved, the newel post being exceedingly plain.
The heavy iron bar that still securely fastens the entrance door bespeaks a time when the red men lurked in Portsmouth and made this protection a necessity. If reliance is to be placed on old traditions, the captain was a great friend of the Indians. The fact that two portraits of Indian chiefs are still hanging upon the wall seems to corroborate this story.
But the most distinctive and remarkable feature of this hall is the wall fresco, reaching from the foot of the stairs to the second-story landing, on the rough plaster of which are depicted various scenes, all the work of a master hand. These wonderful frescoes, covering an area of from four to five hundred feet, were hidden many years ago, and have only been exposed within the last sixty years. As proof of the fact that the frescoes must have been covered up for many years, the story is told of an old lady eighty years of age who was a constant visitor at the Warner house during her girlhood days. When shown these paintings she looked at them wonderingly and asserted that their existence was unknown at the time when she was an intimate of the family.
Opening from the hallway on the right is the parlor, a spacious apartment, panelled from floor to ceiling. A great fireplace, faced with quaint Dutch tiles, occupies one corner; and on the narrow mantel above, resting against a beautiful old mirror, is the Warner coat of arms. Beside this is the coat of arms of the Sherburne family, into whose possession the old house passed in the early part of the nineteenth century. At one side of the room is a broad, arched doorway, where once stood a large pipe organ which was removed some years ago.
Several fine pieces of Chippendale and Sheraton furniture are placed about the room, and from the panelled walls stately dames and old-time gallants deign to give the intruder a haughty glance. These fine old portraits, all painted by the famous Copley, were originally encased in Paul Revere frames. During the great fire which swept through the town a number of years ago, the pictures were removed to insure their safety, and before their return all the frames, with the exception of the one encasing the portrait of Mary Macphaedris Warner, had mysteriously disappeared, and no trace of them has ever been found. Included in the collection are portraits of Captain Macphaedris, Hon. Jonathan Warner, and his daughter Mary. The latter is pictured as an old-time belle, in a gown of stiff brocade and rich red lace.
Opposite the parlor is the living-room, panelled like the hall, and possessing the same charm as the rest of the house. The walls are adorned by queer, old-fashioned pictures and heavy, gilt-framed mirrors, the latter reflecting in their depths the beauty of the rare old mahogany with which the room is furnished.
Beside the broad fireplace, tiled in brown, is a spacious cupboard, deftly concealed in the panelling, where are stored quantities of fine old silver and china, the treasured possessions of many generations of Warners and Sherburnes. This fireplace is framed in quaint Dutch tiles, but instead of grate and andirons it contains a Franklin stove, surmounted by a queer coffee-urn once owned by Governor Langdon. Although quaintly attractive, this stove is not nearly so interesting from an historic point of view as is a stove still used in one of the chambers. The latter, although not nearly so pretentious, has the distinction of having been set up by Franklin himself, one of three in Portsmouth whose installment he personally supervised.
A fine example of mahogany is shown in a beautiful secretary standing at one side of the room, and through its traceried-glass doors are caught glimpses of curious shells and bits of pink and red coral—brought home by some seafaring Sherburne—as well as numerous Indian relics. It has also a few old books left from a rare collection. Near by is a diminutive desk, interesting from the fact that it is said to be an exact reproduction in every detail of one brought to this country by John Alden.
Each chamber shows wonderful four-posters, hand-knotted spreads, odd candlesticks, foot-stoves, and powder-horns, each piece enhancing the flavor and romance that clings to every nook and corner of the old house. All these relics, as well as the fire-buckets hanging in the rear hall, have been in the family for generations.
Carefully treasured in an old chest up-stairs are many things connected with Colonel Jonathan Warner. There is the embroidered military suit which he wore when serving in the Continental army, together with his sword and cocked hat. These, with a bill of lading presented with much of the family plate and imported furniture, have been preserved in the family ever since 1713. Indeed, every piece of furniture and every treasure is historic and has its own distinctive story.
The fine simplicity of colonial designs is well illustrated by the outside of this house. Its simplicity verges almost upon the forbidding, as there is nothing but flat walls of brick, windows of severe design, and a simple cornice that sets off fine old doorways enriched with delicate dentations and supported by hand-carved Corinthian columns.
To-day, after nearly two centuries of existence, the house is as solid as it was on the day it was erected, and with its quiet atmosphere of age, its old-time flavor obtained through steady and long continued use, and the treasury of relics shown here, is conceded to be the most picturesque house in Portsmouth.
One of the most historic houses in New Hampshire is situated at Little Harbor, about two miles from the city of Portsmouth. It was built in the latter sixteenth century, or early seventeenth, the exact date not being known, for the records of the early days were carelessly kept, so that there is nothing legible to determine the time of its erection. The houses that were built during this period are generally of such a distinct type that there is little or no difficulty in placing them and ascertaining their age.
This is not true of the Wentworth Mansion, for its design does not definitely indicate the architecture of any special period. One does not wonder, when history tells us that it was bought by Governor Bennington Wentworth in 1750, that it was at that time simply a farmhouse of moderate size which had been occupied by one of the earliest settlers in this section, whose name has never been handed down.
After its purchase, great pains were taken to make it an attractive and habitable house. Rooms were added, and ells were built, until it assumed its present size. It is a stately pile, with wings joined to either side of the long main building, occupying three sides of a hollow square, and showing open ends facing the water.
Its original appearance has been carefully maintained by the present owner, who occupies the estate as a summer residence. With great care the garden has been restored to the distinctly old-fashioned type, while all the memorable traditions of the building have been preserved. There is about it an atmosphere differing from most houses of that time, partly due to its retired situation.
From the high road one enters the curving avenue to seek the house, hidden from the entrance behind hills and trees. The main entrance is the same as in the governor's day. There is a second entrance, however, nearer the house, through which we get glimpses of the mansion beyond. This is flanked by two marble statues, one of which represents an angler dressed in colonial costume, while the second is a hunter, armed with a Rip Van Winkle fowling-piece.
They seem to extend, with outstretched arms, a mute welcome to the guest, for hospitality has ever been a characteristic of the Wentworth mansion.
The grounds are extensive and are laid out in lawns and grass lands. The house is surrounded by shade trees, some of which were there when the governor occupied the mansion.
Its exterior shows a gray finish, the same coloring that was originally in use. The porch through which the house is entered is the same one through which Washington passed when, during his visit to Portsmouth, he came to this mansion on his return from a fishing trip, and was royally entertained by the widow of Governor Wentworth.
The rear of the house faces the harbor, at the spot where the governor's wharf used to be, for in the early days ships were anchored near by, and their officers were frequently entertained at the mansion.
It is said that in the early days of its occupancy by the governor, a secret passage connected the house with the wharf, and boats were kept always in waiting, ready to be off at a moment's notice. This was done so that the unpopular head of the government might escape at any time if an attempt was made to take his life.
On a neighboring island which is in plain sight, there were several small houses, moved there on a scow.
Governor Wentworth, who was the first owner of this house, was the governor of New Hampshire during the most troublesome times of our country's history. He was elected in 1741 and served for twenty-five years, during which period he conducted the affairs of government through stormy times and two bloody wars, and there is little doubt that he administered the affairs as well as most men could have done under such trying circumstances. It is well known, however, that he pleased neither people nor king. At the end of his term of office he was courteously superseded by his nephew, John Wentworth, whose popularity had won him favor.
It was then, in 1767, that Governor Wentworth retired to the colonial home at Portsmouth. During his administration, his wife and his children had died. Lonely and discouraged, he offered himself in marriage to one Molly Pitman, who chose instead Richard Shortridge, a mechanic by trade. Doubtless through his instigation, because piqued at the indignity of her refusal, a press gang seized Shortridge and carried him away. He was sent from ship to ship, until a friendly officer listened to his sad tale and allowed him to escape and return home, to find his wife still true, although tempted by the allurements of wealth.
Not cast down, however, by his ill luck, the governor soon after made the house at Little Harbor his all-the-year-round home. The house became the rendezvous for prominent personages—not only in New Hampshire, but through the land. During one dinner party given to distinguished guests an important event occurred. In the governor's employ was a girl of most attractive personality, who had entered the house as a domestic, and bore the name of Martha Hilton. Her beauty attracted the attention of the governor, so that he desired to marry her. Among the guests was one Reverend Arthur Brown, of the Episcopal church. The dinner was served in the style becoming to the governor's table. Just as it was over, the governor whispered, so low that no one else could hear, to a messenger who stood near by. Then Martha Hilton came in through the hall door, on the west side of the parlor, and looking down, a blush upon her cheek, took her stand in front of the open fireplace.
She did not bring anything with her, nor did she seem to expect to take anything out. The governor, his hair bleached with the frost of sixty winters, arose, and turning to the rector, he asked: "Mr. Brown, will you marry me?"
The pastor looked up aghast. "To whom?" he asked.
Stepping to Martha's side, and taking her hand in his, the governor answered: "To this lady."
The rector still stood confounded, and the governor, angered by the delay, in an imperative manner said: "As the Governor of New Hampshire, I command you to marry us."
Then and there, in the presence of the assembled guests, the ceremony was duly performed, and Martha Hilton became Madam Wentworth. As a careless, laughing girl, barefooted, and carrying a pail of water, with a dress scarcely sufficient to cover her, Martha was said to have declared: "No matter how I look, I shall ride in my chariot yet," and she now achieved her ambition. In a charming little poem Longfellow relates this incident and assures us that she filled the position with great dignity.
The old governor did not live long to enjoy his New Hampshire home. His widow, however, soon forgot her solitude, after rejecting many offers of marriage, for we read of her marriage not very long afterwards to Michael Wentworth, a retired colonel of the British army. One daughter, Martha, was born as the fruit of their marriage.
In 1789 Washington came to Portsmouth to visit the Wentworth mansion. He sailed into the harbor on one of his ships and was received with characteristic hospitality by Colonel Michael Wentworth and his lady, both of whom accorded him a royal welcome.
The colonel was a high liver and prided himself on his horsemanship. The legend runs that he started from Boston at eight o'clock in the morning and arrived in Portsmouth at 6 o'clock in the afternoon, a feat which was considered remarkable.
He was not master of the house for many years, for he died suddenly in 1795. After his death, Sir John Wentworth, a lawyer in Portsmouth, married Martha Wentworth, the daughter, and they occupied the house in Little Harbor together with Madam Wentworth until the time of her death in 1805. Upon their departure to Europe in 1816, the house passed out of the family.
The house stands as it was built, the massive door, three inches in thickness, at its main entrance, showing enormous locks and strapped hinges that extended eighteen inches in either direction. Strap hinges were a necessity in those days, as the doors were fastened together with wooden pegs, and unless this precaution was taken, they would sag.
One enters a narrow vestibule which gives into an inner hallway. This, too, is narrow, severely plain, and strictly colonial in type. The old staircase has hand-carved balusters. There is no change in the panelling upon the walls, and the original bull's-eyes are in the door opposite the entrance.
The hallway leads at the left into a colonial dining-room, with rich panelling, and an old fireplace which is large enough to hold a yule log. The room is spacious and fitted with furnishings of colonial type. Over the mantel is hung an old powder-horn and flint-lock, while at one side are colonial relics: a cabinet of old china and a Sheraton table with late mahogany chairs form the furnishings.
Adjoining the dining-room is a large pantry, which contains some ovens that were at one time used for the making of rum, doubtless partaken of very freely during the governor's residence there.
At the right of the hallway is the present living-room, where are many relics of the old governor; in one corner is a chair in which he sat. The old fireplace before which Martha Hilton stood on her wedding night is in this room.
Passing through, one reaches a narrow landing and a short flight of stairs which connect with the hallway below, where we come upon the original entrance. The walls on either side over the door are decorated with arms. These are thirteen in number, and are the muskets of the governor's guard, so long ago dismissed. Yonder is the Council Chamber. In this spacious apartment for many years were discussed public affairs of the utmost importance; heated debates were carried on in the stormy times that ante-dated the Revolution. It is finished in the best style of the last century, the carved work around the mantel taking more than a year's work with the knife and chisel of a master carpenter.
Around the room were formerly a great many pictures of the family. Among them was a choice painting by Copley of the beautiful Dorothy Quincy who became the wife of John Hancock, and who came frequently to visit in Portsmouth. There were wonderful pictures of Secretary Waldron, who was killed by the Indians at Dover, and also of his son Westbrook. Sofas and rare bits of colonial furniture furnished the room in the governor's day, and the closely jointed, smooth white floors, which are none the worse for a century's wear, have been pressed by the feet of many a merry dancer.
We look at pictures of the old-time occupants, in periwigs and silver buckles, who people the shadows in the dim grandeur of this wonderful old room. In one corner still stands a rack, with sixteen flint-locks, some of which have bayonets attached. This stand of arms was discovered by the present owner hidden away under plaster. Just what is concealed to-day in the old house is not known, for it has never been fully explored. Naturally one conjectures secret closets and hidden passageways, such as were built in many houses of that period.
Beyond is the billiard-room. There is now no billiard table but instead a spinning-wheel, and a dainty, old-fashioned spinet upon which little Martha Wentworth learned to play. One wonders if it was in this room that Madam Wentworth dropped her ring to be picked up by the maid. All at once the maid became near-sighted, and it was not until Martha herself stooped down and touched her ring that it could be found.
Several smaller rooms lead out of the billiard-room. They were used in the olden times as card-rooms, and here many a close rubber was played by the great and reverend patriots of the land.
Underneath is a huge, rambling cellar where the builder of the mansion kept stalls for thirty horses, ready at a moment's notice to be off. The gun-rack in the hall of the Council Chamber does much to convince us that the great man whose personality is stamped so deeply on this interesting pile, must have led a very uneasy life. There were no descendants to inherit the old home, but he left a lasting memorial to himself in the house which embodied so many of his ideals.
In the little town of Hillsboro, New Hampshire, stand two notable houses. One of them was formerly the home of Governor Benjamin Pierce, while the other was occupied by his son, Franklin Pierce, who was the fourteenth president of the United States. Both houses are in a good state of preservation, the former being used as a village inn, while the latter, still filled with interesting mementoes connected with the life of President Pierce, is now occupied by his nephew, Mr. Kirk Pierce. These houses are not in the village proper but just outside, in a location known as Hillsboro Bridge, a romantic, wooded section on the main road, where in the early days the stage-coach passed on its way to Concord, New Hampshire, not so very far away.
Franklin Pierce was born on November 23, 1804, in the old homestead where his father, Governor Pierce, lived, and here he passed his early days. The old governor was a prominent character in the history of New Hampshire, being one of the heroes of Bunker Hill, afterwards becoming governor of the State of New Hampshire, a man revered and loved, not only by the military element of the State but by politicians as well.
Even when Franklin Pierce was a child, there existed a true companionship between the boy and his father. He was an attractive lad, with light curling hair that fell to his shoulders, blue eyes, and a winsome face. Not particularly fond of study, he was the ringleader in all the pranks played in the neighborhood; yet he was beloved by all the townspeople, who were a bit suspicious of him, however, never knowing what tricks would be played on them through his love of fun and influence with the other boys.
It was a pleasant sight during the long winter evenings to see this fair-haired boy sitting upon his father's knee, listening to stories of his army life. These filled the boy with a desire to enter the militia and win for himself glory on the battlefield.
His early education was obtained in a little brick schoolhouse that is still standing at Hillsboro Centre, about a mile and a half distant from his home. Here in his boyhood days he attended school with twenty other children. At one time during his school life here, a visitor who was talking to the children told them to have a high aim in life, for in that very room might be a future president of the United States,—a prophecy that rang true.
Later on Pierce was sent to Hancock to enter the academy. Unused to discipline, he became very homesick and walked all the way home to see his family. It was on a Sunday morning that he appeared in the yard and found that the household had gone to church. On their return, they found him sitting on a bench waiting for them. When asked the reason why he came home unannounced, he pleaded homesickness. His father was a stern disciplinarian and without a word had a horse harnessed into a chaise; Franklin was driven into the midst of a dense wood and left to walk the rest of the way back to the academy. It was a dark day and a heavy thunder shower came up, so that he was drenched to his skin by the time he reached school. In speaking of it afterwards he said: "It was the turning-point of my life. I learned the lesson that my father wished to impress upon me."
At the age of sixteen he entered Bowdoin College and became one of the most popular students. Not inclined to study, the first two years of his life were spent in partial idleness, until suddenly he awoke to the value of education and was graduated with honors.
Another turning-point in his life lay in the time when he first met Nathaniel Hawthorne. This meeting was in a stage-coach, in 1821, when Pierce was returning to college during his sophomore year. In the same coach also were Jonathan Cilley and Alfred Mason, both intimates then and in after years.
It might be said that Pierce's political campaign commenced at college, for here he held his first civic office as chairman of the Athenean Society, also being elected captain of a little company formed in the college.
There are still treasured in the college library at Brunswick, Maine, two mementoes of his college life. The one is a silhouette found in a little red book containing the pictures of the members of the class, which was made before the art of photography was known. The second is a theme that was written in Latin, one of his later works.
He followed his father's career as politician, making his first stump speech in favor of the victor of New Orleans and against John Quincy Adams. He entered Congress at the age of twenty-nine and quickly rose to high political favor; he was elected to the Senate in 1837, being at that time its youngest member.
During his term of office, he stood firm for his party against the opposing members, and yet so popular was he that when his hour of departure came, the senators crowded around him as though he were a personal friend, and no member of the Senate ever retired with warmer friends. Among his associates in Congress were such men as Calhoun, Wentworth, and Clay,—men who were helpful to him in his political life. He decided, however, that he had had enough of politics so he returned to his own State and took up his profession of attorney, devoting much of his time to caring for his invalid wife.
His views, nevertheless, did not meet with the approbation of the people. Soon the Mexican War broke out, and he was forced to enter the fight, accepting the position of Colonel of the Ninth Regiment. During all this time Hawthorne and he remained intimates.
Across the road is a simple little farmhouse where Pierce spent his early married life, and where Hawthorne was a frequent guest. The life of Hawthorne is connected with that of Franklin Pierce far more than is realized, unless one has delved deep into the unusual friendship of these two men. The one, standing at the front of the literary world, sad, morbid, and needing the helpful hand of a friend, was encouraged to work by the other, whom he loved. He shows his appreciation by his dedication of Our Old Home and Biographical Sketches. In the preface he tells of the love and appreciation of his work given to him by Pierce, and the praise the latter considered his due.
On the other hand stood Franklin Pierce, the lawyer, soldier, statesmen, friend, one who had battled with the world and whose term of office fell at a time when it was hardest to fill—when the slavery question was being weighed. These two men, strongly differing from each other in every trait, were peculiarly united by strong ties of mutual love and helpfulness.
It was not to the Hillsboro house alone that Hawthorne came, but also to the colonial mansion where Pierce spent his childhood days. There is still seen on the grounds an old tree where one can just decipher, cut on the bark, the names of Hawthorne and Franklin Pierce.
This old homestead in which Franklin Pierce's father lived, has on the drawing-room wall a wonderful old paper as fresh and bright as when placed there a century ago by the original owner. During the governor's lifetime, this mansion was on the direct route of the Washington stage, which brought many a distinguished guest to enjoy the bounteous hospitality that was dispensed here. Nearly all the leading men of New Hampshire visited Squire Pierce's house, among them being Judge Woodbury, Governor Steele, and the McNeils.
The grounds were not extensive, comprising a little more than an acre of land, but were for those days wonderfully laid out with walks, gardens, summer-house, and artificial pond, well stocked with trout. The garden was considered to be one of the show places of the time, and here from the summer-house the casual visitor fished for trout in the pond beneath.
The mansion, a colonial type, stands just back of the road. It was a pretentious house in the olden days, as revealed by the broad stairs and hand-carved balusters. The walls are lined with family portraits, representing three generations of this distinguished family. The great parlor at the left shows heavy cornices, massive hearthstones, and many historical relics. The wall-paper shows landscapes, tournaments, and festivals. In this house Franklin Pierce lived until he was married in 1834 to Jane Means, daughter of Rev. Dr. Appleton.
Following this event, he purchased the farmhouse across the way, which remains in the family and which contains a wonderful collection of fine paintings, autograph letters, and historical relics. Among the latter is a picture of William H. Marcy, Secretary of State under President Pierce, who ordered the picture painted at a cost of one thousand dollars. Near by is one of the best paintings of Hawthorne extant, which was also painted at the same cost by order of the president. In addition to these paintings are many others of distinguished men, including one of Pierce's father and many of himself. His wife's picture is not among the collection, but is owned by Mrs. Charles M. Stark of Dunbarton, New Hampshire, who descended from the same ancestry.
Many mementoes connected with the life of Franklin Pierce are still treasured in the old house and include several swords, one of which was given by the ladies of Hillsboro when Pierce entered service in the Mexican War. This, together with a letter that accompanied it, is shown to the visitor, as well as a second sword given him by the State of New Hampshire at the close of the war. There can also be seen many interesting and historical canes.
But the most important collection in the house is that of autograph letters representing correspondence with his old friend Hawthorne, whose friendship was terminated only by death; of Presidents Jackson and Polk, and many others of equal note. Perhaps the most pathetic of this collection of letters, however, is a little one written in a childish hand by his son Benjamin, who was killed in a railroad accident near Andover. This letter is as follows:
"Andover, Mass.,
"June 11, 1852.
"Dear Mother:
"I am having a pleasant time at Aunt Mary's and I should like to stay until next week. To-day is a rainy day. I don't go out much but stay in the house and play with Jamie. Edward has just brought the news from Boston that father is a candidate for the presidency. I hope he won't be elected, for I should not like to live in Washington, and I know you would not either. I am very well and so are the rest of the family. Little Fanny is quite well again and as bright as a bird. Little Mary can walk if somebody takes hold of her hands. Aunt Rebecca sends love to you. I hope you are much better than when you went away. I want you to excuse my bad writing. I have an extra bad pen. It is full of everything but ink. Give my love to father. I will now end this letter, so good-bye.
"Your affectionate son,
"Benjamin."
He had his wish gratified, for on the threshold of the presidency his father's heart was broken by the untimely death of his son.
Among the many treasured letters of Hawthorne's is one written from the Old Manse.
"Concord, Dec. 3, 1861.
"Dear Pierce:
"Here is a letter from old Sullivan, and as he wished a portion of it to be communicated to you, I think it best to send the whole. After reading it, please return it. You will be glad to see how confidently he writes respecting the success of his copper mines, but I shall hardly share his hopes at present. After knowing him for so many years and seeing him always on the verge of making a fortune and always disappointed, poor fellow, I am not sure that the fate he half anticipates would not be the best thing for him—to be shot or hung—but perhaps I am as usual too despondent as he is too sanguine.
"We are all perfectly well and as happy as the times will permit anybody to be.
"With kindest regard to Mrs. Pierce,
"Sincerely yours,
"Nathaniel Hawthorne."
There is another letter from Hawthorne showing the close intimacy that existed between the two men.
"I suppose your election to Congress is absolutely certain. Of course, however, there will be opposition and I wish you would send me papers laudatory and abusive of you. I shall read them with great interest, be what they may. It is a pity that I am not in a situation to use my pen in your behalf though you do not seem to need the assistance of newspaper scribblers. I do not feel very well and will close my letter here, especially as your many associations will not permit you to read a longer one. I shall be happy to hear from you as often as you find leisure and inclination to write.
"I observe the paper styled you as Hon. Franklin Pierce. Have you already an official claim to that title?
"Your friend,
"Nathaniel Hawthorne, alias Hath."
And again we find a letter written later.
"Dear General:
"I deeply regret we are not to have our mountain excursion together, and especially grieved that the disappointment should be on account of Mrs. Pierce's ill health. As the greater part of my pleasure would have been your companionship I question whether I shall press the matter any farther, although I do not as yet decidedly give up the idea.
"Some spiteful abolitionist took trouble to send to me a compendium of abusive paragraphs from the newspapers in reference to you, and it seems to me that the best way of disappointing his malice was to lay them aside without reading one of them, which I accordingly did.
"With best regard to Mrs. Pierce and most earnest wishes for a speedy recovery,
"Faithfully yours,
"Hath."
In addition to the Hawthorne letters are some written by Jefferson Davis, who was a close friend of President Pierce, and who was appointed by the latter Secretary of War during his administration. The friendship between Jefferson Davis and President Pierce commenced during the time when Pierce was a member of the Senate. Mr. Davis thus writes concerning him to one of his personal friends.
"Mr. Pierce, then a member of the Senate, sustained every cardinal principle asserted by Mr. Calhoun, and there was not a member of the Senate who more uniformly voted to sustain them. As an auditor I heard the debate, watched the votes, and then commenced the affectionate esteem and high appreciation of Mr. Pierce which grew and strengthened with every succeeding year of his life. The position he then assumed clearly indicated the views subsequently expressed in the extract you have incorporated in your article.
"Like many other practical statesmen, he was not disposed to disturb the 'Missouri Compromise,' but I have little doubt that at any period of his political career he would have said that it should have never been adopted. When he saw by the legislation of 1850, with which he was no more connected than that of 1820, the manifestation of a purpose to assert sound political principles and follow more closely the Constitution as it was written, he could but rejoice in this triumph of the creed he had so bravely defended in 1837-8.
"The situation made by you from his message of Dec. 1885, and especially the closing words of the extract, 'Existing or Incipient States,' proved undoubtedly that his understanding was that institutions were to be ordained and established not by the first adventurers into a wilderness, but by organized, self-governing communities, such as the people of States, either of the Union or about to enter it.
"I send back one of the two copies received of the Granite Monthly and on the magazine you will find pencil marks opposite the passages on which I have ventured freely to comment.
"Truly yours,
"Jefferson Davis."
Nathaniel Hawthorne and Jefferson Davis were two of his most intimate friends, men entirely different in standards, political ideas, and life. The friendship between Hawthorne and Pierce lasted until the death of the former, May 19, 1864, Pierce being with him much of the time during his last illness and was by his side when he passed away.
Hawthorne in his "Life of Pierce" tells us: "The administration of Franklin Pierce presents the only instance in our history of the continuance of a cabinet for four years without any change in personnel. When it will be remembered that there was much dissimilarity, if not incongruity, of character among the members of the cabinet, some idea may be formed of the power over men that was possessed by Mr. Pierce. Chivalrous, generous, amiable, true to his friends and faith, frank and bold in the declaration of his opinions, he never deceived any one, and if treachery ever came near him, it would have stood abashed in the presence of his truth, his manliness, and his confiding simplicity."
The old Hillsboro house stands to-day unchanged. By its side is a small building formerly used by the ex-President as a library and it still contains a part of his books, many volumes of which have been transferred to the library of the main house.
This room is a perfect treasure trove, for on the walls hang pictures of historic value, many of them painted at the order of the late President. The most valuable collection of all, however, are the autograph letters, the most important of which are written by Nathaniel Hawthorne and Jefferson Davis, letters that form a connecting link between the history of the Civil War and the life of men who made history.
We turn to old houses as we turn to old books—for information—for inside old mansions is generally a wealth of furniture and china, the history of which has a never-dying charm to the collector and the lover of the antique. These houses are rapidly passing away, and it is only now and then that we come across one where furniture may be found that covers the periods between the Chippendale and the Empire.
One of these old houses, in which there is an especially rich collection of antiques, is found at Groveland, Massachusetts, and is known as the Savory house. Let us step over its threshold, and wander through its rooms, studying the furniture and the periods which they represent.
Here we find many of the works of the great masters: the simple, dignified charm of Chippendale gives way to the more elaborate and delicate pieces of Hepplewhite and Sheraton, leading us on to the Adams period, and ending with the Empire. Examples of all these are seldom found under the same roof, and to the student of the antique, such a collection is far more instructive than pictured examples in books.
Much of this old furniture was brought from over the seas about 1800, at a time when colonial homes were in vogue. Others came with the earliest settlers. These pieces, however, are rare, for the ships of that day had but limited capacity, fitted to bring only the bare necessities to furnish a home. Many of them were rare and unusual bits, and connected with them are stories of the past, which carry us back to the early struggles for existence in an untried land.