My dear Sir:
You have lost a child, a dear, dear child. I have lost the only earthly object of my affections, without whom life now presents to me a dreary blank. My prospects are all cut off, and I feel that my happiness will be buried with her in the grave. It is now no time for explanation, but the time will come when you will discover that she, as well as I, have been much abused. God forgive the authors of it. My feelings of resentment against them, whoever they may be, are buried in the dust. I have now one request to make, and, for the love of God and of your dear, departed daughter whom I loved infinitely more than any other human being could love, deny me not. Afford me the melancholy pleasure of seeing her body before its interment. I would not for the world be denied this request.
I might make another, but, from the misrepresentations which must have been made to you, I am almost afraid. I would like to follow her remains to the grave as a mourner. I would like to convince the world, and I hope yet to convince you, that she was infinitely dearer to me than life. I may sustain the shock of her death, but I feel that happiness has fled from me forever. The prayer which I make to God without ceasing is, that I yet may be able to show my veneration for the memory of my dear departed saint, by my respect and attachment for her surviving friends.
May Heaven bless you, and enable you to bear the shock with the fortitude of a Christian.
I am, forever, your sincere and grateful friend,
James Buchanan.
There is among Mr. Buchanan’s papers a letter written to him by one of his friends, shortly after the death of Miss Coleman, which shows how this affliction immediately affected him, and how it was regarded by persons of high social standing in Pennsylvania, who were not prejudiced by erroneous beliefs in regard to the circumstances which led to the breaking of the engagement.
[AMOS ELLMAKER TO MR. BUCHANAN.]
December 20, 1819.
Dear Sir:—