a momentous day in the history of this country was november 6, 1860—on that day the extreme party of the north elected its candidate, with a vice-president, making the executive purely sectional. but few people expected the fulfilment of the evils so insistently threatened as a consequence of this election.

not for one moment had we seriously entertained the thought of secession. the question of slavery in the territories was still unsettled, and the stormy scenes in the house might possibly be re?nacted. like general cass, we had heard all our lives rumors of possible secession, possible war. nobody believed these rumors—any more than we believed that every threatening cloud would burst in a devastating tempest. it was part of the routine, "the order of the day," to enliven things by warm discussions and spicy personalities.

my husband had been unanimously re?lected, and our delightful washington life was assured to us—certainly for three winters—probably for all time.

we were so deeply concerned about the state of the country at large, that his election excited us but 108 little. when the polls closed at sunset, one of his political friends came to me and said there would be a torch-light procession in his honor, that the crowd would call at his residence, and the house must be illuminated. "illuminated!" i exclaimed. "impossible! there are not half a dozen candles in the house, and the stores are all closed. besides, the babies will be asleep. it is bad for babies to be roused from their first sleep."

my friend seemed to appreciate this reasoning; but later in the evening i received a bushel of small white turnips and a box of candles, with a pencilled note saying that i must cut holes in the vegetables, and i would find them admirable candlesticks. the little boys and servants went to work with a will, and when the drum announced the near approach of the procession, every window was blazing with a double row of lights, one row on the window-sill, the other midway, on the top of the lower sash.

my young congressman was considered a brilliant speaker, and his talents were sometimes called into use in washington. some matter of municipal interest was supported by him, and another torch-light procession gathered late one night around the door of the house on new york avenue.

"you are not to listen," he said to me, as he descended to the front door to speak to the crowd; "i shall say a few words only." i threw a shawl over my night-dress and crouched down in a little balcony just over his head. to my prejudiced mind, his speech was the most graceful and charming 109 thing i had ever heard. i was in a delightful trance of happiness when he closed, and was rudely awakened when, in response to shouts of "go on, go on, we could listen all night," the daring young orator deliberately turned and pointed to the balcony above him: "go on, my friends? go on, exposed to the criticism of one from whose criticism i am always trying to escape?"

i fell back out of sight on the floor. i never listened afterward!

and among the pleasant happenings of these golden days, so soon to be shut in by darkness and sorrow, was the presentation to my young congressman of a beautiful service of silver from his democratic friends of virginia in recognition of "brilliant talents, eminent worth, and distinguished services."

mr. galt made this splendid service, and i record it here because it became part of the history of the next years of trouble. i should have lost it once (in a dark hour), but mr. galt bade me keep it—that brighter days were in store for me and mine, a prophecy which he lived to see fulfilled.

we were all in our places in november, setting our houses in order, several weeks before the assembling of congress. we were warmly welcomed into our pleasant home by susan, whose authority, now fully established and recognized, kept us in perfect order. everything promised a season of unusual interest. we now knew everybody—and what is more i, for one, liked everybody. it takes so little to make a woman happy!

in washington our social life did not begin 110 before new year's day. among our first cards this winter was an invitation to the marriage of mr. bouligny, member from louisiana, and miss parker, daughter of a wealthy washington grocer. rumors reached us of unusual plans for this wedding. mr. parker's large house was to be converted into a conservatory filled with blossoming roses and lilies. fountains were to be introduced, new effects in lighting. the presents were to be magnificent, the bridal dress gorgeous.

upon arriving at the house (i think it was an afternoon wedding) i found the president seated in an arm-chair at one end of the drawing-room, and the guests ranging themselves on either side. a crimson velvet curtain was stretched across the other end of the room. presently the curtain parted, and the bridal tableau appeared in position behind it. after the ceremony the crowd waited until the president went forward to wish the bride and her husband "a great deal of happiness." everybody remained standing until mr. buchanan returned to his seat. i stood behind his chair and observed that he had aged much since the summer.

he had had much to bear. unable to please either party, he had been accused of cowardice, imbecility, and even insanity, by both parties. "the president is pale with fear," said general cass. "he divides his time equally between praying and crying. such an imbecile was never seen before," said another. a double-leaded editorial in the new york tribune of december 17 suggested that he might be insane. on the day of the wedding, 111 december 20, he stoutly denied that he was ill. "i never enjoyed better health nor a more tranquil spirit," said the hard-pressed president. "i have not lost an hour's sleep nor a single meal. i weigh well and prayerfully what course i ought to adopt," he had written on that day.

the crowd in the parker drawing-room soon thinned as the guests found their way to the rooms in which the presents were displayed. the president kept his seat, and i stood behind him as one and another came forward to greet him. presently he looked over his shoulder and said, "madam, do you suppose the house is on fire? i hear an unusual commotion in the hall."

"i will inquire the cause, mr. president," i said. i went out at the nearest door, and there in the entrance hall i found mr. lawrence keitt, member from south carolina, leaping in the air, shaking a paper over his head, and exclaiming, "thank god! oh, thank god!" i took hold of him and said: "mr. keitt, are you crazy? the president hears you, and wants to know what's the matter."

"oh!" he cried, "south carolina has seceded! here's the telegram. i feel like a boy let out from school."

i returned and, bending over mr. buchanan's chair, said in a low voice: "it appears, mr. president, that south carolina has seceded from the union. mr. keitt has a telegram." he looked at me, stunned for a moment. falling back and grasping the arms of his chair, he whispered, "madam, might i beg you to have my carriage 112 called?" i met his secretary and sent him in without explanation, and myself saw that his carriage was at the door before i re?ntered the room. i then found my husband, who was already cornered with mr. keitt, and we called our own carriage and drove to judge douglas's. there was no more thought of bride, bridegroom, wedding cake, or wedding breakfast.

this was the tremendous event which was to change all our lives—to give us poverty for riches, mutilation and wounds for strength and health, obscurity and degradation for honor and distinction, exile and loneliness for inherited homes and friends, pain and death for happiness and life.

the news was not known, except in official circles, until the evening. the night was dark. a drizzling rain was falling; the streets were almost impassable from mud.

at the house of a prominent south carolina gentleman a crowd soon collected. the street was full of carriages, the house brilliantly lighted.

admiral porter, then a lieutenant, had heard the startling news, and called at this house to tell it. he found the mistress of the mansion descending in cloak and bonnet, and as soon as she saw him she exclaimed: "oh, captain, you are just the man i want. i'm going to the white house to tell the president some good news. the horses are sick and i'm going to walk over."[10]

"it is impossible for you to walk through the rain and mud," said the lieutenant. "there are 113 ten or twelve hacks at the door, and i will press one into your service." so saying, he called a carriage and helped her to enter it, getting in after her.

"i was under the impression," he said, as they started, "that you were having a party at your house, it was so brilliantly lighted up, and i thought i would venture in uninvited."

"no, indeed," she replied; "but we have received glorious news from the south, and my husband's friends are calling to congratulate him. south carolina has seceded, and, oh, captain, we will have a glorious monarchy, and you must join us."

"and be made duke of benedict arnold?"

"nonsense!" she exclaimed, "we will make you an admiral."

"certainly," said lieutenant porter, "admiral of the blue. for i should feel blue enough to see everything turned upside down, and our boasted liberty and civilization whistled down the wind."

"what would you have?" she inquired. "would you have us tamely submit to all the indignities the north puts upon us, and place our necks under their feet? why, this very day my blood boiled while i was in congress, and i could scarcely contain myself. an old black republican was berating the southern people as if they were a pack of naughty children. however, mr. rhett took the floor and gave the man such a castigation that he slunk away and was no more heard from."

just then they reached the white house. "come in," said the lady, "and hear me tell the president the good news." 114

lieutenant porter preferred returning to her house. there he found a crowd around a generous bowl of punch. when he had an opportunity, he asked the host if he thought it possible the southern states would secede. "what more do they want?" he inquired. "they have a majority in the senate and the house, and, with the supreme court on their side, they could make laws to suit themselves."

"true," his host replied, "most people would be satisfied with that. 'better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.' but you will join us? you must! we will have a navy to be proud of, and we'll make you admiral."

"there's one comfort," said an old society dame who now joined the party. "south carolina is a fickle young thing and may change her mind! she declared herself ready once before to walk out,—you all remember it,—and changed her mind. she took off her things and concluded to stay a little longer."

"she has gone for good and all this time, depend upon it," said the host. "she was only giving warning then! her time is up now and she is off."

meanwhile the lady of the house was telling the president news that was no news to him. he was fully prepared to receive it calmly and gravely. i had preceded her by some hours.

lieutenant porter little dreamed of the good fortune the secession of south carolina would bring to him. from a poor lieutenant with anxious cares about a large family, he was speedily raised by mr. 115 lincoln to the proud position of rear-admiral of the united states.

his own comment upon the enthusiasm of his southern friends is amusing. he declared that if the capital and its surroundings had been less stupid, that if those vivacious southerners could have had a court, theatres, and opera-houses, the catastrophe which overwhelmed north and south might have been prevented. "the romans understood these things better than we. they omitted nothing to keep the people amused; they even had the street fountains at times run with wine, and the investment was worth the money spent." "but what," said admiral porter, "could one expect at a court presided over by an old bachelor whose heart was dead to poetry and love; who sat at dinner with no flowers to grace the festive board, and never even had a boutonnière on his coat lapel?" which was one way, at least, of accounting for things.

of course, we all paid our respects to the president on the next new year's day, and joined the motley crowd of men and women of every degree who were admitted after the starred and beribboned dignitaries from foreign lands had been received. "here i am, mr. president," said one of the witty southern women, "and my cook will be here in a few minutes! i left her dressing to come."

the day that ushered in the eventful year 1861 was gloomy out of doors, but within the executive mansion flowers, music, gay attire, and bright smiles 116 ruled the hour. "i wish you a happy new year, mr. president," fell from every lip, but in every heart there was a gloomy foreboding of impending disaster. what would the year bring to the "wayward sister," whose sons had all gone home? how we missed them!—mr. porcher miles, mr. boyce, mr. and mrs. keitt, always so delightful a part of our washington social life. some of us might expect to return; but this was adieu, not au revoir, to our president. this was his last new year's day in the white house, not his last day of perplexity and trouble. very soon more wayward sisters would depart, and the hour he had dreaded would "come in his time."

there is no time at the president's new year's reception to gather in corners for private talk. we must hurry on our rounds to the houses of the cabinet and of the foreign ministers. sending the gentlemen of our party forward to visit the senators' wives, we hastened home to our own punch-bowl.

i brewed a mighty bowl that last new year's day. dr. garnett and judge scarborough presided over the mixing, to be sure that the arrack was proportioned rightly, and that there were just as many and no more toasted crab-apples than there should be. i was assisted by my friend agnes, whom i love to quote, and whose full name i should like to give, except for the reason that she is now living, and, being a respectable lady of the old school, is averse from seeing her name in print. in the society journal occasionally, apropos of the opera or reception, perhaps, but in a book! i should never be forgiven. 117

late in the afternoon my rooms were thronged—with virginians and southerners mainly, but with some northern friends as well, for virginia was not yet classed. like touchstone, i was "in a parlous state," lest some of my guests who had already honored many punch-bowls should venture on forbidden subjects. more than one came in on the arm of james, but it took a better man than james to conduct him out again and into his carriage. my friend who had distinguished himself at my first president's dinner was in high feather, as were some grave judges i knew.

there was but one thought in every mind, gay or sober. "is this a meeting of the girondists?" queried one.

"when shall we three meet again?"

quoted another.

"when the hurly-burly's done—

when the battle's lost and won,"

was the prompt answer. "sh-h-h!" said an old army officer. "it is not lucky to talk of lost battles on new year's day, nor of girondists' feasts on the eve of a revolution."

the season which was always ushered in on new year's day resolved itself literally this year into a residence in the galleries of the senate chamber and the house of representatives.

before the 2d of february, mississippi, florida, alabama, georgia, louisiana, and texas had dissolved their bonds with the federal union. the 118 farewell addresses of the representatives of the seceded states became the regular order of the day. jefferson davis's final farewell closed with these solemn words: "may god have us in his holy keeping, and grant that, before it is too late, peaceful counsels may prevail."

virginia, had she retained her original colonial bounds, could have dictated to the rest. now, should she elect to join the southern confederacy, the states she had given to the union—her own children—would be arrayed against her.

virginia now essayed to arbitrate. her peace commission met in washington, but without result, except that it was for her a fleeting moment of enthusiasm.

mr. kellogg of illinois said: "she has thrown herself into the breach to turn aside the tide of disunion and revolution, and she says to the nation, 'be united and be brothers again.' god bless the old dominion!" said mr. bigler of pennsylvania, january 21: "pennsylvania will never become the enemy of virginia! pennsylvania will never draw the sword on virginia."

apprehension was felt lest the new president's inaugural might be the occasion of rioting, if not of violence. we were advised to send our women and children out of the city. hastily packing my personal and household belongings to be sent after me, i took my little boys, with their faithful nurse, eliza page, on board the steamer to acquia creek, and, standing on deck as long as i could see the dome of the capitol, commenced my journey homeward. 119 my husband remained behind, and kept his seat in congress until mr. lincoln's inauguration. he described that mournful day to me—differing so widely from the happy installation of mr. pierce. "o'er all there hung a shadow and a fear." every one was oppressed by it, and no one more than the doomed president himself.

we were reunited a few weeks afterward at our father's house in petersburg; and in a short time my young congressman had become my young colonel—and congressman as well, for as soon as virginia seceded he was elected to the provisional congress of the confederate states of america, and was commissioned colonel by governor letcher.

i am afraid the evening is at hand, when we must bid adieu to the bright days—the balls, the merry hair-dresser, the round of visits, the levees, the charming "at homes." the setting sun of such a day should pillow itself on golden clouds, bright harbingers of a morning of beauty and happiness. alas, alas! "whom the gods destroy they first infatuate."