At last she was given a clerkship in the Post-Office Department at Washington, but after two years this was taken from her, probably for political reasons, and it was recommended that she be given a clerkship of a lower grade. This was done, and although she was cut by the injustice of the act, she clung patiently to her only means of support. Two weeks later, it is said that a Northern newspaper contained an editorial which spoke sneeringly of "A Troublesome Relic," and ended with, "We draw the line at Miss Van Lew." Even though she had not a penny in the world, she could not bear the sting of that, and she wrote her resignation, and went back to the great, lonely house on Church Hill a heart-broken, pitiable woman, who had given her all for what she believed to be the cause of right and justice.
But she could not live in the old mansion alone, and without food or money. In despair she wrote a letter to a friend in the North, a relative of Col. Paul Revere, whom she had helped when he was a prisoner in the Libby. She had to borrow a stamp from an old negro to send the letter, and even worse to her than that was the necessity of revealing her desperate plight. But she need not have felt as she did. As soon as the letter reached its destination there was a hurried indignation meeting of those Boston men who knew what she had done for the Union, and immediately and gladly they provided an ample annuity for her, which placed her beyond all need for the remaining years of her life. This was, of course, a great relief; but even so, it could not ease the burden of her lonely isolation.
"No one will walk with us on the street," she writes; "no one will go with us anywhere.... It grows worse and worse as the years roll on...."
And so the weary months and years went by, and at last, in the old mansion with its haunting memories, nursed by an aged negress to whom she had given freedom years before, Elizabeth Van Lew died. Among her effects there was found on a torn bit of paper this paragraph:
"If I am entitled to the name of 'Spy' because I was in the Secret Service, I accept it willingly, but it will hereafter have to my mind a high and honorable significance. For my loyalty to my country, I have two beautiful names; here I am called 'Traitor,' farther North a 'Spy,' instead of the honored name of Faithful."
And well may she be called "Faithful" by both friend and enemy, for she gave freely of youth and strength, of wealth and her good name, of all that human beings hold most sacred, for that which was to her a consecrated and a just cause.
In the Shockhoe Hill Cemetery of Richmond, there is to be seen a bronze tablet, erected to the noble woman who worked tirelessly and without fitting reward for a cause which she believed to be righteous. The inscription on the tablet reads:
Elizabeth L. Van Lew
1818 1900.
She risked everything that is dear to man—friends,
fortune, comfort, health, life itself;
all for the one absorbing desire of her
heart—that slavery might be abolished and
the Union preserved.