After such a greeting, little wonder that his awkwardness and terror disappeared, and a "romantic admiration for this magnificent woman took its place."
One more glimpse of Dolly may be given here as we pass rapidly over these scenes, and also over the later ones at Montpellier,[58] whose chronicles have already been so well written, to linger awhile over her declining years ere taking leave forever. She herself has drawn this picture.
Ingersoll's history contains the following letter from "the lady who there, with a spirit of gentle fortitude, presided." It was written to her sister Lucy, who was then visiting at Mount Vernon,[59] the home of General Washington, eighteen miles from the federal city.
Tuesday, Aug. 23d, 1814.
Dear Sister:
My husband left me yesterday morning to join General Winder. He inquired anxiously whether I had courage or firmness to remain in the President's house until his return on the morrow, or succeeding day; and on my assurance that I had no fear but for him and the success of our army, he left me, beseeching me to take care of myself, and of the cabinet papers, public and private. I have since received two dispatches from him, written with a pencil; but the last is alarming, because he desires I should be ready at a moment's warning to enter my carriage and leave the city; that the enemy seemed stronger than had been reported, and that it might happen that they would reach the city with intention to destroy it.... I am accordingly ready; I have pressed as many cabinet papers into trunks as will fill one carriage; our private property must be sacrificed, as it is impossible to procure wagons for its transportation. I am determined not to go myself until I see Mr. Madison safe, and he can accompany me—as I hear of much hostility towards him ... disaffection stalks arounds us.... My friends and acquaintances are all gone,—even Colonel C—with his hundred men, who were stationed as a guard in the enclosure.... French John (a faithful domestic), with his usual activity and resolution, offers to spike the cannon at the gates, and to lay a train of powder which would blow up the British should they enter the house. To the last proposition I positively object, without being able, however, to make him understand why all advantages in war may not be taken.
Wednesday morning, 12 o'clock.—Since sunrise I have been turning my spy-glass in every direction, and watching with unwearied anxiety, hoping to discern the approach of my dear husband and his friends; but alas, I can descry only groups of military wandering in all directions as if there was a lack of arms, or of spirit to fight for their own firesides!
3 o'clock.
Will you believe it, my sister? We have had a battle or skirmish near Bladensburg, and I am still here, within sound of the cannons! Mr. Madison comes not; may God protect him! Two messengers covered with dust come to bid me fly; but I wait for him.... At this late hour a wagon has been procured. I have had it filled with the plate and most valuable portable articles belonging to the house; whether it will reach its destination, the Bank of Maryland, or fall into the hands of British soldiery, events must determine.
August 24, 1814.
Our kind friend, Mr. Carroll, has come to hasten my departure, and is in a very bad humor with me because I insist on waiting until the large picture of General Washington is secured, and it requires to be unscrewed from the wall. This process was found too tedious for these perilous moments! I have ordered the frame to be broken, and the canvas taken out; it is done, and the precious portrait placed in the hands of two gentlemen of New York for safe keeping. And now, dear sister, I must leave this house, or the retreating army will make me a prisoner in it, by filling up the road I am directed to take. When I shall again write you, or where I shall be to-morrow, I cannot tell!!
The gentlemen to whom Dolly entrusted the portrait of General Washington were Jacob Barker,[60] the Quaker banker, to whom the government was largely indebted for financial aid during the war of 1812, and Mr. De Peyster, of New York. Jacob Barker himself took it to a farmhouse near Montgomery courthouse, and later returned it to Dolly.
The Declaration of Independence was saved by Josiah King,[61] an official from the State Department, who went to the place where it hung, and took it from its frame; and Dolly took him and his precious burden with her in her flight.
With Dolly went also Mr. Carrol and her servant "Sukey." They drove to Georgetown, a short distance beyond which she spent her first night of exile, (Salona Hall, the Smoot place). She, as well as Madison, was to feel that the "disaffection" and "hostility" were realities in the few following days during which they were banished from the capital, he in hiding and she in disguise, wandering from place to place.
The night of the burning of the capitol she and her companions were refused admittance to an inn and were, for a time, exposed to the fury of the tempest of rain and hurricane that, while it wrought havoc in the city, quenched the flames and drove the British troops in confusion before it.