The boys and girls of the White House

Front matter

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Introduction

THE HOMESTEAD OF THE NATION

LIKE a fairy tale runs the quaint legend which sheds a glamour of romance over the little tract of land known as the District of Columbia, the hub, as it were, of our republic, from which the United States radiate out, in ever-increasing numbers.

Interesting, too, is the story of the City of Laws, during the hundred and more years in which it has been growing from a mere squatter settlement into a vast town of most " magnificent distances," whose power reaches around the world.

Described in ancient chronicles as " The most healthful and pleasantest region in all this country," it was a capital long before George Washington paced off the Federal City; for there the mighty Algonquin tribe of American Indians came to hold their councils of war, and there Powhatan — the father of Pocahontas — with his eighty fiercest chiefs, donned their battle paint or smoked the calumet — the great pipe of peace.

" Nacochtank," they called this wigwam seat of government while, later, when the red men had given way to English ploughmen and woodchoppers, an old prophecy was often recalled that in this locality there was destined, some day, to arise the capital of a very strong and powerful nation.

Legendary lore says that in 1663, one Francis Pope was vouchsafed a vision of the future, in which he beheld a stately house of parliament crowning what is now Capitol Hill. With faith in this dream, then, he straightway purchased the eminence and made himself " Pope of Rome," by naming it after the Imperial Italian City, while the sluggish stream at its base he called the " Tiber."

But the world moved slowly in those early Colonial days, and the visionary Francis passed away before he had seen the fulfilment of his revelation, although he died in the firm belief that his wooded hill would yet be the site of a grand edifice, devoted to the laws and lawmakers of a mighty empire.

Handed down from mouth to mouth, this fantastic fable was finally told to General Washington and his chosen architect, Major L'Enviii

The Homestead of the Nation

fant, when they met the owners of the land, in an old-fashioned tavern at Georgetown, to negotiate for the transfer of the property to the Government, and may have inspired them with fresh hope for the success of the infant republic, although, at that period, naught but forest trees covered the hill called " Rome " and the " Tiber " was derisively known as " Goose Creek." This last is said to still flow on as a modern sewer.

George Washington, however, had noted and loved this beautiful spot from the time he was only an obscure lieutenant with the Army, on Observatory Hill, and it was his influence which swayed the council to select that site; he who drew up the agreement; and he who planned the capital city which Pierre Charles L'Enfant laid out on paper and on such a grand scale that most people considered it wild and chimerical.

The artistic Frenchman was shortly after removed, and Andrew Ellicott of Philadelphia put in his place, but the fair city of dreams, as. it stands to-day, certainly had its origin in thefirst architect's daring, creative brain.

Now, then, at last, Pope's shadowy vision

was crystallized into reality. The dome of the

Capitol, designed by Dr. William Thornton,;

arose on the summit of " Rome," while a mile

ix and a half away, a home for the rulers of the nation was erected on Pennsylvania Avenue, the street which has well been termed the " Via Sacra " of the new world.

It was Captain James Hobon, an Irishman, who planned the White House, modelling it after the palace of the Duke of Leinster, in Dublin; and the corner stone was laid on the 13th of October, 1792. Constructed of Virginia freestone, painted white, it has a frontage of one hundred and seventy feet and is eighty-six feet deep, with a circular porch in the rear and a colonnade in front. Burned by the British in 18 14, it was rebuilt in the selfsame manner, almost a replica of the original mansion, and here, ever since the days of John Adams, our Presidents and their families have lived and moved and had their political being.

Within its snowy walls, a myriad joys and a myriad sorrows have been known. Little souls have been born; great ones passed away. The famous East Room, eighty feet long by forty feet wide, and the pretty Blue Room, have each been the scene of many a wedding and many a christening; while, as we look back across the nineteenth century, we see a bright, blithe band of young Americans, the boys and girls of the historic White House, who have come and gone, x

The Homestead of the Nation

flitting through the gardens, awaking the echoes in the long corridors with their fresh ringing voices and ever, by their presence, making a more cheery and homelike place of the big stone Homestead of the Nation.

XI

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

Introduction — The Homestead of the Nation vii

I. Washington's Adopted Children ... i

Chapter I

SOMEONE has said that " George Washington was never given sons and daughters of his own, in order that he might be the Father of his Country " ; but he was a parent to more than the land of his birth, so warmly did the children and grandchildren of his wife entwine themselves about his heart and grow into his life and love; while to them, our first President ever proved the wisest and kindest of stepfathers.

Little John and Martha Parke Custis were but six and four years of age when their mother, the rich and attractive widow, Martha Dandridge Custis, married gallant Colonel Washington. Oddly enough, too, the pleasant home on the York River where these young folks were I born was known far and wide as the " White House."

The great Virginian plantation, as well as the " Six Chimney House " in Williamsburg, belonged to their own, though scarcely-remembered, father, and was by him bequeathed to his wife and little ones, and in these two places they dwelt during the mother's widowhood. Some writers, too, have endeavored to trace a fanciful connection between the name of the Custis homestead and that of the White House in the District of Columbia, saying that Washington wished the official residence of the Presidents of the United States to be so called in memory of the lovely spot in which his happiness was consummated; but there seems no foundation for this romantic theory.

The fact remains, though, that young Jacky and Patsy — as they were fondly nicknamed — were a veritable boy and girl of the White House, although they never saw the famous executive mansion, which was not then even dreamed of.

But it was a happy January day for them, when the tall, military man came to their ancestral home and there was a gay colonial wedding at Twelfth Night, celebrated with true, old-time Virginia hospitality, and to which fair dames and distinguished men nocked from miles around.

The remainder of the winter was passed in the quaint, old city of Williamsburg, then the capital, and which was laid out with its streets forming a W and M, in honor of William and Mary, who in 1689 had been proclaimed the Lord and Lady of Virginia. But when the flowers bloomed in the spring they were whisked away, in a chariot and four, to beautiful Mount Vernon, that now historic house, filled with massive furniture and odd bric-a-brac, where they found acres of rich land laid out in lawns, fruit orchards and flower gardens; a blue, rippling river to fish and wade in, and a great enclosed portico, more than ninety feet long, that was the finest playroom in the world, for a rainy day.

Here, then, they lived, during the happy hours of childhood; Martha, who is recorded as " a lady-like child of winning ways," studying the very simple lessons thought necessary for girls a hundred and fifty years ago, working samplers in " cross, tent and satin stitch," and practising on the harpsichord, beneath Lady Washington's gentle but firm tuition, and meanwhile growing into the charitable little " dark lady," as she was called from her brunette com- 3 plexion, who, as years increased, might often be seen on her pony going about on errands of mercy to the cottages of the poor and afflicted.

Master John, on the contrary, was his stepfather's daily companion, learning from him military tactics and engineering, while together they enjoyed many a glorious gallop or tracked some wily Reynard to the death. As the great man once noted in his diary, " Went a-hunting with Jacky Custis and catched a fox; after three hours' chase found it in the creek."

In the evening, guests were frequently at Mount Vernon, but if there were none, the master was fond of reading aloud, or one can imagine him, on a stormy w r inter night, by the big log fire, drawing Jacky and Patsy to his knee and telling them stories of his own boyhood, of the pranks of the pupils at Master Hobby's school, or how he once attempted to tame a wild colt and the dire result thereof. Much better, too, does this true incident set forth the honesty and manliness of Washington's youthful character, than the popular and rather mythical tradition of the cherry tree and the hatchet.

George was but a lad in his early teens when one summer morning he, together with two or three boys who were visiting him, strolled out 4 to see his mother's colts, among which was one very valuable but very vicious young horse that was particularly prized by Mary Washington because it was of a pedigreed race which her husband had bred. Never did a brute beast display a more fierce and ungovernable temper, and it was generally believed that it could never be tamed.

Youth, however, is daring, and presently George suggested that if his companions would help him catch the colt and force a bridle bit into his mouth, he would mount him. They readily agreed and before the sorrel comprehended what was intended, he was driven into a corner, the bridle was adjusted and our future President on his back. But then a terrible struggle ensued. His lordly horseship wildly reared and plunged and rushed madly about the fields, but the boy stuck firmly on his bare back and curbed him with his strong, young arms. In vain the colt tried to dislodge his rider, and finally, making one last, desperate effort, he burst a blood vessel and fell, dying on the ground.

At this catastrophe the lads were frightened

and dismayed beyond measure, for every one

stood deeply in awe of Madam Washington,

and " what to say to her " was the question all but George were debating when they were summoned in to breakfast.

The first question, too, of the lady of the house was, " Pray, young gentlemen, have you seen my blooded colts in your rambles ? I hope they are well taken care of; my favorite, I am told, is as large as his sire."

At this the guests were overcome with confusion, but when the question was repeated, George spoke up and said: "Your favorite, Madam, is dead."

"Dead!" she exclaimed. "How has this happened? "

" That sorrel horse," replied the brave boy, " has long been considered ungovernable and beyond the power of man to tame. This morning we forced a bit into his mouth. I mounted him and rode him around the pasture, but in a desperate struggle for the mastery he broke a blood vessel, fell under me, and is now no more."

For an instant the mother's cheek flushed with anger, but a moment later, she remarked, with the calmness and justice for which she was noted, " It is well ; but while I regret the loss of my favorite animal, I rejoice in my son who always speaks the truth." 6

Doubtless this anecdote was a popular one at the Mount Vernon fireside; but no matter how entertaining the reading or conversation, the family party always broke up and retired as soon as the tall clock chimed the hour of nine.

Surrounded by every comfort, ten years rolled smoothly and happily on, the only shadow being the delicate health of young Martha, who had inherited from her father the dread seeds of consumption. Much was hoped from a visit to the Warm Springs of Virginia, but nothing was of any avail, and one summer day she faded away quite suddenly, like the sweet June roses blooming outside at the time.

Washington, who was deeply attached to the gentle girl, hastened home from his public duties at Williamsburg, only just in time to have her breathe her last in his arms, and to him she bequeathed all her property, which was no inconsiderable fortune.

The negroes, as well as the family, were heartbroken at the loss of lovely Patsy, while the following year Mrs. Washington was still too sad to attend the wedding of her son; for in February John suddenly abandoned his studies at King's College, New York, in order to marry young Eleanor Calvert, a maiden of " sweet 7 sixteen " and a grandchild of Lord Baltimore. Ready enough, though, was she to welcome the girlish bride and sent her this note:

" My dear Nelly :

" God took from Me a Daughter when June roses were blooming. He has given me another daughter, about her Age, when Winter Winds are blooming, to warm my Heart again. I am as Happy as one so Afflicted and so Blest can be. Pray receive my Benediction and a Wish that You may long live the Loving Wife of my happy Son and a Loving Daughter of " Your Affectionate Mother,

" M. Washington."

The first wish was fulfilled for nine years, but nine very anxious years, not only at Mount Vernon, but also at the home of the young couple at Abingdon on the Potomac; for a greater part of the time, both Washington and his ward were away, fighting for American independence.

Scarcely, too, had Cornwallis surrendered, when a messenger arrived with news that " Colonel John Custis was dying of camp fever at Eltham, near Yorktown," and he shortly followed his sister, leaving his wife a widow at twenty-five, and four small children, the youngest two of whom, Eleanor Parke Custis, two 8 and a half years old, and George Washington Parke Custis, a dimpled baby of six months, were legally adopted by General and Lady Washington.

So once again the old rooms at Mount Vernon rang with merry childish voices and a new generation filled the places of " dear Jacky " and the little " dark lady." The grandparents, however, found dark-eyed, curly-headed Nelly a very different child from her tractable Aunt Patsy, for the gay, saucy lassie cared far more for play and romping than for books and music, while she rebelled outright at having her head dressed each day with feathers and ribbons. As she grew older, her foster father, to encourage her, presented her with a fine harpsichord, costing one thousand dollars; but this only proved an instrument of torture to the young lady when forced to practise, and her brother records that " She would cry and play and play and cry for hours." The detested harpsichord still graces Mount Vernon, having been generously sent back there by Mrs. Lee after the purchase of the historic spot by the Women of America.

The blond, little boy was undoubtedly his grandmother's favorite, and Nelly often said, 11 It was well grandpa and not grandma was 9 educating Washington, for grandma certainly would spoil him."

But the petted darlings had good times on the dear old plantation, where their mother often stayed with them, as well as their two elder sisters, Elizabeth and Martha, and both accompanied Lady Washington on her triumphal journey to New York a month after her husband's inauguration as first President of the United States, and, at the ages of eight and ten years, enjoyed many a peep at the fashionable gaieties of the day.

It seems a pity that they could not have witnessed the great Inauguration itself, but they, probably, had many glowing descriptions written them thereof, and I am sure they would have heartily enjoyed a letter supposedly indited by a lad of 1789, and which may well be introduced here, as giving an account of the grand event, from a boy's standpoint.

23 Nassau Street, New York,

My Dear Winthrop, — It is a thousand

pities that you had so soon to return to Boston,

for vastly stirring times have we had in New

York this spring, and we boys have come in for our share of the sport, and have paraded the streets in cocked hats, with swords at our sides, every minute out of school, for a full month past. I was chosen the captain of the " Juvenile Tomahawks," and I flatter myself that my company did credit to its commander, when, on the 23rd of April, we marched in the wake of the military procession down to Murray's Wharf to welcome the new President,' and I know we made more noise than any other regiment there, as every mother's son shouted at the top of his lungs, if a bit out of tune —

" Brave Washington arrives,

Arrayed in warlike fame, While in his soul revives

Great Marlboro's martial fame, To lead our young republic on

To lasting glory and renown."

which is an old song made over to suit the occasion.

The girls fancied it immensely, for as we passed Mistress Graham's Select School, all the pupils came running to the windows, and comely Betty Waddington, who generally is such a high and mighty little puss, flung a great bunch of purple laylocks and yellow daffies right 1 1 at my feet, while the rest giggled and cheered and waved their kerchiefs as though they were half daft with delight.

I assure you, after that, the drum and fife outdid themselves, and every " Tomahawk " held himself as straight as an Indian brave ; but the wharf once reached, such a rare view met our eyes that we all broke ranks and scrambled for good places to see, while little Wash Irving's eyes nearly popped out with excitement. Verily, Win, it was grand to behold the blue bay dotted over with hundreds of boats, dancing up and down on the waves, and every ship in the harbor but one a perfect nosegay of banners and streamers. The government vessel, North Carolina, was a " sight for gods and men," as brother Jake says; but will you credit it, the Galveston, the Spanish man-of-war, never displayed a color except her own national flag? Deary me! you ought to have heard how the people growled and grumbled at the " ill-mannered Spaniard " ; but pretty soon we forgot all but the coming hero as a volley of cannon sounded from the Jersey shore, and the finest barge that ever I saw came darting out of the Kills, rowed by thirteen masters of vessels, all dressed in white, with little Tom Randall's 12 father acting as cockswain, and commanded by Commodore Nicholson.

In the centre sat the General, and what do you think? Just as he came abreast of the Galveston, in an instant, as if by magic, the ship bloomed out with every flag and signal known, while from the deck was fired a salute of thirteen guns. Wasn't that a handsome compliment? And the crowd changed its tune in a twinkling, and cheered and shouted itself hoarse, while the " Tomahawks " did their share so nobly that an old soldier with a wooden leg nodded approval, and said: "Ay, that's right, my little cockerels ! Crow away ! Ye'll never again see a day like to this day."

Billy Van Antwerp, Arty Tappan and I crept down close to the stairs prepared for the chieftain to land by, so heard every word of Governor Clinton's address of welcome, and then we tramped after the troops when they escorted his Excellency up through Queen Street to the Governor's quarters near Pine. There was a chariot waiting for him to ride in, but he would have none of it, and walked off arm in arm with his host under the floral arches erected in his honor, just as though he was Taffy the fiddler or some other commonplace body. But for 13 all that, Cousin Win, he is the grandest, most splendid gentleman that ever wore shoe buckles, and my throat was sore for two days from shrieking, — "Huzza! huzza! three cheers for the Father of his Country! "

Master Hoppin gave us holiday for the whole day, so we had a famous drill in the afternoon, only a shower came up and wet us to the skin, while we were afraid it would spoil the illuminations in the evening. Howsomever, the rain held up after sundown, so, although the pavements were very damp, New York was as gay as a pantomime with candles, lamps, and transparencies.

But if the 23rd of April was a goodly day, the 30th was goodlier, for then the Inauguration took place in the Federal Hall, at Wall and Broad streets, which you will remember as the old tumble-down City Hall, but which has been all made over by the French architect, Monsieur L'Enfant, and now has a most beautiful balcony and arcade.

I tried to persuade brother Jake to ask the Marshal, Colonel Lewis, to let the Juvenile Tomahawks march in the procession, but Jake is vastly stuck up since he joined the " Grenadiers," and laughed and poked so much fun at the idea, saying, " Little bantams shouldn't try 14 to stretch their necks too high," that I was sorely affronted, and stamped out of the house to cool my rage. Anyway I shall be six feet myself some day, and then if I am not a Grenadier my name is not Bob Van Kortland.

Well, on the morning of the 30th all the old folks went to church to pray for the new government, but we boys were off betimes to Broad Street and secured a capital place on a roof opposite the Hall, where we sat and dangled our feet over the edge and munched gingerbread until after twelve o'clock, when Captain Stakes's dragoons hove in sight, for again the city troops had to escort the President-elect from his residence in Cherry Street. After them came Captain Van Dyck's artillery, and then the other foot soldiers; and verily I did feel proud of Jake when I saw him marching with the other tall youths, in his blue uniform with its red facings and gold ornaments, his cocked hat adorned with white feathers and his black " spatterdashes " buttoned close from knee to shoe top.

Captain Scriba's German company, also, looked as gorgeous as a flock of peacocks, in blue coats, yellow waistcoats and breeches, and funny black bearskin caps, while every fat face beamed with happiness, for many of them were once the slaves of the Prince of Hesse Cassel, 15 but have lately had their freedom purchased for them. The Highlanders, too, marched well, and they squeaked away on their bagpipes like good fellows.

The street below was one mass of upturned faces; every window, roof and balcony was thronged; and while we waited, that puddinghead Fig Coltey wagered me a dozen cheese cakes that the new President would wear a crown like the picture of King George and a big cloak trimmed with ermine.

You can fancy my elation, then, when the great man stepped out on the balcony dressed in a plain suit of brown cloth, white silk stockings, and shoes with the simplest of silver buckles, all of which they tell me are of American manufacture. I am sure you would have laughed could you have seen Fig's disgusted countenance (his father is suspected of being a bit of a Tory) , as he gazed with his mouth wide open, his nose an inch higher than usual, and looking for all the world like a dying duck in a thunderstorm. So I won the cheese cakes, and uncommonly good they were, but just after that we had no time to think of wagers, for we were all busy picking out the distinguished men in the background — John Adams, the Vice-President, Roger Sherman, General Knox, Baron Steuben, 16 and a host of others that I have not space to mention. Then Chancellor Livingston, dressed all in black like a mute at a funeral, arose, and the little Secretary of the Senate held up a large, open Bible on a beautiful crimson cushion. It was so still you could have heard a pin drop, and oh, how noble and dignified Washington did look as he stretched out his hand to take the oath of office, and bowing his powdered head, kissed the book! But as soon as the Chancellor proclaimed, " Long live George Washington, the President of the United States! " I verily believe the huzzas might have been heard down at Sandy Hook. Faith, it was a fine, solemn scene, and one I shall never forget should I live to be as old as Daddy Topliff ; and much did I desire to hear the inaugural speech. But they would not let us into the Hall of Representatives, where it was delivered, so all the Tomahawks scampered off to St. Paul's Church, and waited in line until the new President drove up there, when, as he entered, we presented arms, at which he smiled and nodded and said something to Mr. Adams about " Young Americans."

Cousin Bella will be interested to know that there is soon to be a very grand inaugural ball in the City Assembly rooms for which 17 my sisters are having made exceedingly fine petticoats and perriots of striped silk trimmed with gauze — at least that is what I think Eve told me to say — while they are taking private dancing lessons from Monsieur Hewlett, in hopes of having the honor of treading a minuet with " Mr. President," as Congress has decided the new ruler shall be called. Howsoever, many regrets are expressed that Lady Washington will not be here on the occasion.

In faith, Winthrop, this is a lengthy letter which I have writ you with my own hand, the more so that I am none too fond of wielding the quill, so I will only add that I have just heard that Arty Tappan has been selected to serve as a page at the ball, and present each lady with a French fan of ivory and paper bearing a likeness of George Washington, as a souvenir of the first inauguration.

Pray present my respects to Uncle and Aunt Endicott, and believe me, as ever, Your affectionate kinsman, Robert Bayard Van Kortland.

But although the young folks of Mount Vernon were not with Bob and Arty and little Washington Irving on the day of that great pageant, the journey they took to New York 18 in company with their grandmamma and their tutor, Mr. Tobias Lear, who also acted as secretary to the General, was almost a royal progress, with military receptions, music and fireworks all along the route, while they were welcomed to the metropolis with prolonged cheers and shouts of " Long live President Washington and God bless Lady Washington," on all sides.

Here their home and the first executive mansion was a low-ceilinged house on the corner of Pearl and Cherry streets, which was sometimes dignified by the title of " the Palace." But it was an exceedingly simple court that was held there, and the children's studies were vigorously kept up under Mr. Lear and the wise discipline of their grandmother, although no doubt they were often allowed a half hour at the Friday evening receptions when the Vans and Vons of the old Knickerbocker and Patroon families came to pay their respects to the head of the nation; where there was always plum-cake, tea, coffee and pleasant chit-chat; but which were invariably broken up at an early hour by the hostess rising and saying with a gracious smile : " The General always retires at nine and I usually precede him."

The domestic part of the household, both 19 here and later in the more commodious mansion on Broadway, near Bowling Green, was looked after by Samuel Fraunces, the keeper of the once famous Fraunces' Tavern, while under him served a cook by the name of Hercules; and of these young Custis wrote in after years, " When Fraunces, in snow white apron, silk shirt and stockings, and hair in full powder, placed the first dish on the table, the clock being on the stroke of four, ' the labors of Hercules ' ceased."

In his reminiscences, too, he vouches for the " fish story," having probably been an eyewitness of the scene, when a lad of eight or ten years. Knowing Washington's fondness for sea-food, Fraunces provided a shad very early in the season when they were exceedingly scarce and dear. Hardly, however, had the delicacy appeared upon the board when the President inquired its price.

" Three dollars," stammered Fraunces, at which Washington fairly thundered forth, " Take it away, take it away, sir; it shall never be said that my table sets such an example of luxury and extravagance."