The era in which Mrs. Monroe lived was the most eventful in the history of nations, and her record is of interest and value, in a twofold degree. The women who stamp the influence of their virtues on a time of public excitement and wonderful changes, bear in their natures strength of character worthy of emulation; and they become the benefactors of succeeding ages, as they were the blessings of their own. The memorials of such should be familiar to the children of America, who under the genius of Republican institutions, are the inheritors of, and successors to, their fame and positions. No daughter of Columbia should be ignorant of the history and experiences of their national ancestors, whose lives were beautiful in their simplicity, and rich in varied experiences.

The rarest treasure our country possesses is the fame of her children; and her noblest legacy to posterity should be the record of those, who by their talents have adorned, and by their wisdom sustained, the pioneers of liberty in their first weak efforts. Of such a class was Mrs. Monroe, whose husband for half a century reaped the reward of his country’s constancy, and filled in that period more important offices than any other man in the United States.

Statesmen in this country are too often forced to give way to politicians, and patriots to demagogues. The perpetual agitations of a Republic carry up on the flood those who in turn are swept down with the tide; while in the commotion many are lost to history. But this is less the case with Virginia statesmen than with any other class of public men. Whatever may be said of the ingratitude of other States, the “Old Mother” has been true to her children, and the caprice and changeableness of younger commonwealths but render her trust and confidence the more conspicuous. And if she has trusted implicitly the integrity of her offspring, she has been rewarded by the love and fidelity of the noblest public men of the nation.

The inauguration of Washington at New York, in 1789, was followed by the immediate assembling of Congress, and thither went Mr. Monroe, as Senator from Virginia, accompanied by Mr. Jefferson, the newly-appointed Secretary of State.

The ancient seat of the Dutch dynasty on this Continent was a place of much wealth; and not the least of its possessions were the bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked descendants of the rich old Patroons, whose delight knew no bounds when their city was chosen as the capital. No less pleased were their fathers who, in their capacities as merchants and capitalists, hoped to achieve new honors and increased wealth.

The festivities which subsequently followed the inauguration were attended by all the members of Congress, who, as strangers of distinction, received the largest share of the young belles’ attention. Prominent among these belles was Miss Elizabeth Kortright, the daughter of Lawrence Kortright, a former captain in the British army. After the peace of 1783, he remained with his family in New York, where his children were reared and educated. Of this interesting family there were one son and four daughters, two of whom, Mrs. Heyliger, of Santa Cruz, whose husband, Mr. Heyliger, had been Grand Chamberlain to the King of Denmark, and Mrs. Knox, were married when Congress assembled in their adopted city. The other daughter was the wife of Nicholas Gouverneur of New York.^[8]

Mrs. Monroe’s marriage took place in New York, in 1786, while Mr. Monroe was attending a session of Congress. Soon after their marriage they took up their abode in Philadelphia, whither the seat of the General Government had been removed. In this position he remained until 1794, when he was appointed from the Senate to be Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to France. Thus is shadowed forth the five years of Mrs. Monroe’s life succeeding her marriage. Nothing more definite can be gathered. It is a matter of regret that no biographer of her day anticipated the needs of a coming generation, and transcribed, with all the facts and incidents fresh in his mind, an impartial account of the every-day existence of the woman whose memory appeals now for justice.

Very little was written of her during her life, beyond occasional mention after her husband’s election to the Presidency, nor has any history of his life been written from which to glean even a mention of her name. This is a remarkable fact, that in none of the public libraries of New York or Brooklyn, is there any history of a man who occupied the Presidential chair eight years, and whose record should be the inheritance of his descendants. A brief sketch, written many years ago, is all that was to be found, and there is no mention of his wife in it.

Of dignified and stately manners was Mrs. Monroe, and possessed of a face upon which beauty was written in unmistakable lines. Tall and gracefully formed, polished and elegant in society, she was one fitted to represent her countrywomen at the court of St. Cloud. Her position, as the wife of a wealthy Virginia Senator, surrounded by luxury and prosperity, proud of her husband and of her country, was calculated to enhance the pleasure of a trip to Europe, while the comparative infrequency of a voyage across the Atlantic heightened the pleasure with which she received the announcement of his appointment.

During their residence in Paris, the eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, who afterwards married Judge George Hay, of Richmond, Virginia,^[9] was a pupil at Madame Campan’s celebrated school, where Hortense Beauharnais, the daughter of Josephine, and the future Queen of Holland and mother of Napoleon III., was also a pupil, and between whom there existed a warm friendship.

Young and ambitious, full of enthusiasm and admiration for the principles of a free government, Mr. Monroe left the shores of his native land, whose liberty he had so recently assisted in establishing. He had entered the service of his country as a cadet in a corps under the command of the gallant General Mercer, of Virginia. Soon afterward he was appointed a lieutenant, and joined the army at New York. Following the fortunes of the Chief, he was with him at Trenton, Princeton, Brandywine, Germantown and Monmouth. Retiring from the staff of Lord Sterling, where he had served two campaigns, after being wounded in the shoulder at Trenton, he repaired to Virginia to raise a regiment. From various causes he failed in this undertaking, and did not return to the army, but entered Mr. Jefferson’s office as a student at law. A member of the Legislature, and at the age of twenty-four elected to the Continental Congress, from which he passed to the Congress of the United States, we find him from his earliest boyhood devoted to the land of his birth, and serving it in these various positions of honor and eminence.

But glowing with youthful admiration for the Republic he had left behind, he was not careful to conceal his feelings in imperial France, and hence made himself unpopular with those in power. He was deemed too enthusiastically engaged in the feelings of revolutionary France to do justice to his own country, and he was recalled by Washington.

In August, 1792, Lafayette was taken prisoner by the Austrians, and after being thrown like a criminal in the Prussian dungeon at Wesel on the Rhine, was transferred successively to Magdeburg, Glatz, Neisse, and finally to Olmutz. In this Austrian dungeon he was convinced by the rigor of his confinement and the brutal treatment of his captors that his fate was sealed. Down in his dark cell, ten paces deep, where the rain through the loop-holes poured, and the sun did not shine, the young defender of American liberty lay chained, while the weary months dragged by, and no word of hope or certainty of death came from his wife and children left behind in Paris. Wasted by disease, deprived of light, air, and decent food—the loathsome dampness and filth of his dungeon so reducing him that his hair fell from him entirely by the excess of his sufferings, his cruel tormentors cheered his gloom and oppression by no word or look of sympathy. America knew the fate of his loved ones, and while his estates were confiscated, his wife in the prison of La Force, and his little children, two of whom shared the confinement of their mother, awaiting the wrath of their oppressors, the agents of the country whose once hopeless cause he had espoused were actively employed in behalf of their former friend.

It is not to be wondered that Mrs. Monroe shared the feeling entertained by her husband, or that her warmest womanly feelings were stirred by the recital of Madame Lafayette’s woes. The Marquis de Lafayette was adored by Americans, and the indignities heaped upon his heroic wife could scarcely be borne by the Minister and his family, when they felt that the death of a martyr would be the result of her cruel and protracted confinement. The lofty position America had just assumed among the nations of the earth, and the respect engendered by her success rendered her Ministers in foreign countries objects of special attention and regard. When Mr. Monroe decided to risk displeasure by sending his wife to see Madame Lafayette, he appreciated the decided effect it would have for good or evil. He well knew that either it would meet with signal success, and be of benefit to his unfortunate friend, or render her slight claim to clemency yet more desperate. Enlisted as his feelings were, he determined to risk the die, and Mrs. Monroe was consulted in regard to the plan. To her husband’s anxious queries, she replied calmly, and assured him of her ability to control and sustain herself.

As the carriage of the American Minister, adorned with all the outward emblems of rank, halted before the entrance of the prison, the keeper advanced to know the object of the visit. Mrs. Monroe, with firm step and steady voice, alighted and made known her business, and to her surprise was conducted to the reception-room, while the official retired to make known her request. Her heart beat loudly as she alone listened to the tread of the jailer as he closed the heavy door and passed down the long hall which separated the cells. After a lapse of time, which to one in her nervous state seemed an age, she heard the footsteps returning, and soon the opening of the ponderous door discovered to her astonished view the presence of the emaciated prisoner, assisted by her guard.

The emotion of the marchioness was touching in the extreme, and she sank at the feet of Mrs. Monroe, unable to articulate her joy.

All day she had been expecting the summons to prepare for her execution, and when the silence of her cell was disturbed by the approach of the gendarmes, her last hope was fast departing. Instead of the cruel announcement—the assurance that a visitor awaited her presence in the receiving-room of the prison, and on finding in that visitor the American Ambassadress, the representative of her husband’s adopted home, her long-pent feelings found relief in sobs. The reaction was sudden, and the shock more than her feeble frame could bear.

The presence of the sentinels precluded all efforts at conversation, and both hesitated to peril the frail chance of life, or to abuse the unheard-of privilege of an interview. After a painful stay of short duration Mrs. Monroe rose to retire, assuring her friend in a voice audible to her listeners, for whom it was intended, that she would call the following morning, and then hastened to relieve the anxiety of her husband.

Madame Lafayette’s long-delayed execution had been decided upon, and that very afternoon she was to have been beheaded, but the unexpected visit of the Minister’s wife altered the minds of the officials, and to the surprise of all, she was liberated the next morning.

The prestige of the young Republic was appreciated by the French in power, and they dared not, from motives of self-interest, sacrifice a lady in whom the American Minister was so directly interested. They had not forgotten with what admiration the people of the United States looked upon her husband, the Marquis de Lafayette.

Deaf to all the entreaties of her friends, and firm in her determination to carry immediate consolation to the dungeon of her persecuted husband, Madame Lafayette left Paris accompanied by her two daughters in disguise, and under the protection of American passports.

Passing under the name of Mrs. Motier, she landed at Altona on the ninth of September, 1795, and after repeated difficulties eventually reached the prison, where she was notified that if she passed its threshold, she must remain.

The heroic woman signed her consent and determination, to share his captivity in all its details, being “fully determined never again to expose herself to the horrors of another separation.”

The two most conspicuous men of their age, George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, effected by their co-operation the release of Lafayette and his deeplyinjured family—the former after an imprisonment of more than five years, the latter a period of twenty-two months.

Mr. Monroe was recalled, and after his return to America, he published a justification of his conduct while abroad; the pamphlet settled nothing, but justified both parties in the views which they had taken.

Thus was Mrs. Monroe’s short stay in Europe brought to a termination. In many ways it had been pleasant and beneficial, and although she regretted her husband’s unfortunate recall, she rather joyed in the conduct which had produced this result. Unacquainted with diplomacy and the line of action necessary between nations, she allowed her own feelings to decide her movements, and honored the same spirit in her husband. The privilege of being a succor and means of relief to Madame Lafayette satisfied her more than ministerial honors, and she would rather have performed this deed prompted by Mr. Monroe’s advice than remained the wife of the Ambassador.

The friendship between Mr. Monroe and Lafayette was very strong. The latter felt that Mr. Monroe was largely instrumental in the presentation of the $200,000 which the United States gave him in 1824, and also for kindness shown his son, George Washington Lafayette, when he was in prison. The lad was about to be conscripted into the army, and Mr. Monroe, aided by two American gentlemen, Joseph Russell and Col. Perkins, raised the amount necessary to buy a substitute ($1,500), and then sent him to America, where he was the guest of Washington for a year.

When news reached Lafayette in 1828 of the pecuniary trouble which Mr. Monroe was in, and the ill-health of his wife, he wrote him offering him the proceeds of the sale of half of his Florida lands, which were very valuable, as a loan, and urging Mr. Monroe not to mortify him by a refusal, since he had accepted like favors from him in the past. The generous offer was declined by Mr. Monroe.

Paris as now, though in a less degree, was the centre of all that was to be enjoyed, and Mrs. Monroe did not regret her stay there, though so abruptly ended. This first trip over the tedious waters was fraught with interest and improvement to both. New fields of thought were explored by them, and the expanse of their souls, under a sense of freedom and change, gained for their ultimate happiness more than mere worldly honors could give or take away.

Thus in the devious windings of life we are constantly reminded that after the lesson is the application, and experience pronounces both, though hard to bear, necessary for ultimate progression.

Mrs. Monroe returned to New York with her husband, who was looked upon as a disgraced minister, and being the first who had been so designated, was viewed by his friends with deep sympathy. For a time the society of her family and friends soothed her sensitive feelings, but she soon afterwards accompanied her husband to Virginia, where he was at once chosen Governor.

This evidence of affection gladdened the hearts of both recipients, and during the constitutional term of three years, through which he served, Mrs. Monroe added to the dignity and success of his official life by her uniform and acceptable course. The capital of the State at that time was Williamsburg, a place of refined hospitality and sociability, and here the fine character of the Governor’s wife was discovered under the most delicate circumstances, as well as during the most pleasing occasions.

After President Jefferson came into power, he appointed Mr. Monroe Envoy Extraordinary to the Court of France, to act with Mr. Livingston in negotiating for the purchase of Louisiana. As soon as he arrived on the French soil, Mr. Livingston wrote as follows to him:

Dear Sir:—I congratulate you on your safe arrival. We have long and anxiously wished for you. God grant that your mission may answer your and the public expectation. War may do something for us; nothing else would. I have paved the way for you, and if you could add to my memoirs an assurance that we were now in possession of New Orleans, we should do well. But I detain Mr. Beutalon, who is impatient to fly to the arms of his wife. I have apprised the minister of your arrival, and told him you would be here on Tuesday or Wednesday. Present my compliments and Mrs. Livingston’s to Mrs. Monroe, and believe me, dear sir, your friend and humble servant,

After the business of the treaty was arranged, Mr. Monroe was sent as Minister to London, to succeed Mr. King, who wished to return home. From there he was ordered to Spain, which country he visited by way of Paris. Mrs. Monroe accompanied him in all his wanderings, and returned with him to England soon after the death of Mr. Pitt.

Mr. Monroe was minister to England when the attack on the frigate “Chesapeake” placed the two countries, already irritated, in a hostile attitude, and finding his position at the St. James anything but pleasant, he returned to this country. Thus did Mrs. Monroe spend almost ten years in Europe, returning only when the country was plunging again into a second war with the mother land. She gladly sought retirement at Oak Hill, her husband’s Virginia home, and the following years passed in the enjoyment of the serene pleasures of country life—Mr. Monroe engaged during the day in reading and taking the general supervision of his plantation, while she supervised the education of their two daughters and the household duties, which, in a Virginia, home were always arduous.

But this quiet home-life was not destined to last, and the husband and father resumed the duties of a politician, and was elected to the Legislature. In a few months he was again chosen Governor of the old commonwealth, and continued to discharge the duties of that office until chosen Secretary of State by President Madison.

When the war of 1812 was declared, Mrs. Monroe was living in Washington City, dispensing the duties of a minister’s wife, and enjoying the society of her two daughters.

As the strife came nearer home and the capital was threatened, she returned to Oak Hill, and there remained until peace was finally proclaimed. Anxious and uneasy about her husband, who was ever beside the President, she yet felt that her place was at her own home, that he might feel assured of the safety of herself and children.

In 1817, Mr. Monroe became President of the United States, and removed his family to the White House, where they continued to reside during both terms of his administration. Mrs. Monroe was spoken of at this time by the leading paper of the day as follows:

“Mrs. Monroe is an elegant, accomplished woman. She possesses a charming mind and dignity of manners, which peculiarly fit her for her elevated station. Her retired domestic habits will be much annoyed by what is here called society, if she does not change the etiquette (if it may be called so), established by Mrs. Washington, Adams and Madison, a routine which her feeble constitution will not permit her to encounter. To go through it, she must become a perfect slave to the sacrifice of her health. The secretaries, senators, foreign ministers, consuls, auditors, accountants, officers of the navy and army of every grade, farmers, merchants, parsons, priests, lawyers, judges, auctioneers and nothingarians—all with their wives and some with their gawky offspring, crowd to the President’s house every Wednesday evening; some in shoes, most in boots, and many in spurs; some snuffing, others chewing, and many longing for their cigars and whiskey-punch left at home. Some with powdered heads, others frizzled and oiled, with some whose heads a comb has never touched, half-hid by dirty collars, reaching far above their ears, as stiff as pasteboard.”

And an English writer comments in a similar strain:

“Mrs. Monroe is a lady of retired and domestic habits, not ungraceful and apparently very amiable.

“Having resided in Europe with her husband, she has acquired some of its manners and a good deal of its polish. She receives company, but returns no visits; she seems more attached to the silence and peace of obscurity, than the bustle, confusion and glare of public assemblies. But to preserve a custom established by her predecessor, a lady it is said of great elegance of manners and much dignity of deportment, she gives what are termed ‘drawing-rooms’ for the purpose of gratifying the wishes and curiosity of such strangers as may please to visit her and the President.

“These drawing-rooms are conducted on principles of republican simplicity, and are widely different from the magnificence and splendor of the English levees. They appeared to me, however, very unpleasant; the rooms are so crowded, the hum of voices so loud, and the motion of the company so incessant, that the possibility of continuing a conversation on any subject is wholly precluded, and you are jostled every instant without the power of enjoying the ‘feast of reason’ or even the pleasure of the senses.”

The White House had been partly rebuilt when Mr. Monroe became President, but it possessed but few comforts and no elegance. The furniture was not of the kind nor quality befitting the house of the Chief Magistrate, and the débris of the former ill-fated building lay in heaps about the mansion. The country being once more at peace, Congress ordered Consul Lee, then residing at Paris, to purchase a silver service of plate, which was forwarded at once, and which has continued in use until replaced by a more modern and expensive set in March, ’69.

About the same time was bought for the East Room the furniture which now adorns that famous apartment. When the purchase was made in Paris, each article was surmounted by the royal crown of Louis XVIII. This ornament of gilt was removed, and the American Eagle substituted before it was sent from France. To the thoughtful mind this furniture is of interest in so far as it recalls the dead who have long since crumbled back to dust, yet, whose memory is associated with the chairs and ottomans still remaining where they were placed years ago. True, they have been often repaired, but the original eagles are as bright as when they left the shores of the Empire, to grace the house of the Republic.

Mrs. Monroe mingled but little in the society of Washington, and always secluded herself from the observation of the throng. Her health was frail during the latter years of her life in the White House, and she became more than ever a recluse. One of the many guests of the President and Mrs. Monroe during the last winter of their stay in the White House was Lafayette, who afterward visited them at their residence in Loudon county, Virginia.

In a recent publication there is a copy of an old letter written by Mr. Cooper, in which he thus mentions a dinner and a reception at the White House during Mr. Monroe’s time.

“On this occasion we were honored with the presence of Mrs. Monroe and two or three of her female relatives. Crossing the hall we were admitted to a drawing-room,in which most of the company were already assembled. The hour was six. By far the greater part of the guests were men, and perhaps two-thirds were members of Congress.

“There was great gravity of mien in most of the company, and neither any very marked exhibition, nor any positively striking want of grace of manner. The conversation was commonplace and a little sombre, though two or three men of the world got around the ladies, where the battle of words was maintained with sufficient spirit. To me the entertainment had rather a cold than a formal air. When dinner was announced, the oldest Senator present (there were two, and seniority of service is meant) took Mrs. Monroe and led her to the table. The rest of the party followed without much order. The President took a lady, as usual, and preceded the rest of the guests. The dining-room was in better taste than is common here, being quite simple and but little furnished. The table was large and rather handsome. The service was in china, as is uniformly the case, plate being exceedingly rare, if at all used. There was, however, a rich plateau, and a great abundance of the smaller articles of table-plate. The cloth, napkins, etc., etc., were fine and beautiful. The dinner was served in the French style, a little Americanized. The dishes were handed around, though some of the guests, appearing to prefer their own customs, coolly helped themselves to what they found at hand.

“Of attendants there were a good many. They were neatly dressed, out of livery, and sufficient. To conclude, the whole entertainment might have passed for a better sort of European dinner party, at which the guests were too numerous for general or very agreeable discourse, and some of them too new to be entirely at their ease. Mrs. Monroe arose, at the end of the dessert, and withdrew, attended by two or three of the most gallant of the company. No sooner was his wife’s back turned than the President reseated himself, inviting his guests to imitate the action. After allowing his guests sufficient time to renew, in a few glasses, the recollections of similar enjoyments of their own, he arose himself, giving the hint to his company that it was time to rejoin the ladies. In the drawing-room coffee was served, and every one left the house before nine.”

“On the succeeding Wednesday, Mrs. Monroe opened her doors to all the world. No invitation was necessary, it being the usage for the wife of the President to receive company once a fortnight during the session, without distinction of persons. We reached the White House at nine. The court (or rather the grounds) was filled with carriages, and the company was arriving in great numbers. On this occasion, two or three additional drawing-rooms were opened, though the frugality of Congress has prevented them from finishing the principal reception-room of the building. I will acknowledge the same sort of surprise I felt at the Castle Garden fête, at finding the assemblage so respectable in air, dress and deportment. The evening at the White House, or drawing-room, as it is sometimes pleasantly called, is, in fact, a collection of all classes of people who choose to go to the trouble and expense of appearing in dresses suited to an ordinary evening party. I am not sure that even dress is much regarded, for I certainly saw a good many there in boots. The females were all neatly and properly attired, though few were ornamented with jewelry. Of course, the poor and laboring classes of the community would find little or no pleasure in such a scene. The infamous, if known, would not be admitted, for it is a peculiar consequence of the high tone of morals in this country, that grave and notorious offenders rarely presume to violate the public feeling by invading society.

“Squeezing through the crowd, we achieved a passage to a part of the room where Mrs. Monroe was standing, surrounded by a bevy of female friends. After making our bow here, we sought the President. The latter had posted himself at the top of the room, where he remained most of the evening, shaking hands with all who approached. Near him stood all the secretaries, and a great number of the most distinguished men of the nation. Individuals of importance from all parts of the Union were also here, and were employed in the manner usual to such scenes. Besides these, one meets here a great variety of people in other conditions of life. I have known a cartman to leave his horse in the street, and go into the reception-room to shake hands with the President. He offended the good taste of all present, because it was not thought decent that a laborer should come in a dirty dress on such an occasion; but while he made a trifling mistake in this particular, he proved how well he understood the difference between government and society. He knew the levee was a sort of homage paid to political equality in the person of the First Magistrate, but he would not have presumed to enter the house of the same person as a private individual without being invited, or without a reasonable excuse in the way of business.”

Maria Monroe, the youngest daughter of the President, was married March, 1820, in the East Room, to her cousin, Samuel L. Gouverneur, of New York, after what a letter writer of that day describes as “the New York style.” This was a wedding where only the attendants, the relations, and a few old friends of the bride and groom witnessed the ceremony. Then the bridesmaids were dismissed until a week from that day, when the bride received visitors. A reception was given then at which Mrs. Gouverneur presided in the place of her mother, and was formally introduced to all the guests present. The President and Mrs. Monroe mingled with the crowd, and left the bridal couple to do the duties of host and hostess. The bridal festivities were to include general receptions, and Commodore and Mrs. Decatur gave the young couple a largely attended ball shortly after the White House reception. Cards had been issued by Commodore Porter for an entertainment in their honor, when the news of the death of Commodore Decatur put an end to all gayety in Washington. The couple soon after took up their residence in New York. The eldest daughter was living at this time in Richmond, Virginia.

After Mr. Monroe retired from office, he returned to his home in Loudon county, and engaged with Messrs. Jefferson and Madison in establishing the University of Virginia. This occupation formed a pleasant pastime to him, and was of lasting benefit to his beloved State. Afterward he was chosen President of the Virginia Convention to amend the Constitution of his native State. Meanwhile Mrs. Monroe found womanly employment for hands and heart in caring for those dependent upon her bounty, and entertaining the various throngs who delighted to do honor to the three ex-Presidents of the United States, and sons of the old commonwealth.

Mrs. Monroe was now alone and becoming aged, and was pleasing herself with the delusion that after so many years of public life, her husband would spend the evening of his days with her, around the fireside. But he felt as if he could never cease to serve Virginia. Long after his duty to his country had been performed and she had dismissed him with plaudits and laurel wreaths, he struggled under accumulated infirmities and trials, and to the last hearkened to the voice of his State. The last public position he held was a magistracy in the county of Loudon, where he resided, and was as attentive and devoted to the performance of every duty as when holding the highest office in the gift of the people.

Mrs. Monroe died suddenly in 1830, and thus was ended the old home-life. Oak Hill was closed, and the crushed husband sought refuge from loneliness in the home of his daughter, Mrs. Gouverneur, in New York, whose devoted affection soothed his pathway to the grave.

The venerable Dr. Francis tells us that he often met Mr. Monroe walking out when the weather was fine, and that on these occasions he was the object of the most affectionate attentions. He has often met him making purchases for the family, at the Centre Market, where all the stallmen knew and honored him.

He was tall and spare, very modest in his bearing, dignified and gentlemanly. In his address, he was hesitating and diffident, and polite to the poorest and humblest as to any. He was one of the most industrious of men, a hard student, and his cares left their marks on his face. The wound he received at Trenton was felt for many years afterward—indeed, throughout his life he occasionally suffered from it.

Less than a year after Mrs. Monroe’s death her husband was preparing to join her. On the 4th of July, 1831, the anniversary of American Independence, just five years after his predecessors had quitted this scene of their labor and their triumph, he, too, joined them.

His funeral was a very imposing one—the largest that at that time had ever been seen in New York. The military under Gen. Jacob Morton, Grand Marshal, filled Broadway from Prince to Broad Street, through which it passed to the cemetery. The day was fine, and the signs of mourning were generally adopted by the citizens of New York.

There is an old cemetery on the north side of Second street, in this city (New York), between First and Second Avenues, separated from the sidewalk by a tall iron fence, placed upon a granite foundation.

The shrubbery is always clean and vigorous; the grass is always the greenest, and the walks are scrupulously neat. There are many tasteful and appropriate monuments to the dead that sleep within this hallowed inclosure; but to the memory of the most famous of its dumb inhabitants there was no marble shaft, no obelisk, not even a head-stone erected. But upon a simple slab of marble that lies flat, some two feet square, upon the earth, and is almost covered by grass, is the following inscription:

There is nothing to indicate that the James Monroe mentioned is the Monroe who was in the battle of White Plains, and received a ball in the shoulder at the attack on Trenton, who fought by the side of Lafayette at Brandywine, who was Minister to France in 1794, and afterward to England; who was Secretary of State in 1811, and for two full terms President of these United States. Yet such is the fact, and that weather-stained slab of marble, two feet square, covered for many years the grave of Ex-President Monroe.

Many years afterward, by order of the Virginia Legislature, the remains of Ex-President Monroe were removed to Richmond, and a monument befitting his fame was erected over his grave.

The property of Oak Hill is now owned by Mr. Fairfax, and with it one thousand acres of land. Three hundred acres are comprised in the McGowan estate.

The second daughter of President Monroe, Mrs. Maria Gouverneur, died in 1850 at Oak Hill, where she was buried by the side of her mother. The eldest daughter died in Paris, and was buried in Pere la Chaise. There are now living but few descendants of Mrs. Monroe.

At this short remove from her day, not many incidents relating to her career are extant. She lived as public a life as did Mrs. John Adams, and was far better acquainted with society in this country and Europe than several of the ladies who preceded her in the semi-official position she filled, but her ill-health and her temperament unfitted her for familiarity with the people, and kept her from being popular in the sense that Mrs. Madison was. The difference between these two women was that the latter was fond of company, enjoyed life and had a healthy, hearty interest in the events transpiring about her. The other lived in retirement as far as possible, and the record of so quiet an existence is not as familiar to the people of this country as is that of those of her contemporaries who occupied the high place she filled.

Society was differently organized in her time than it is now. It is difficult to realize that newspaper correspondents were the exception and not the rule, and that public attention was rarely directed to ladies; whereas now it is impossible for women in semi-official life to keep themselves out of the multitudinous prints of the day, object as they may.