This garrison chapel in time became a place of great interest. Owing to active hostilities in Mexico the number of officers’ wives increased, and it included, as may be supposed, some of the most accomplished and elegant ladies in the land. Their husbands, gallant and noble soldiers, were involved in the duties of actual war, and they, brave-hearted and courageous, comforted each other. As the news came that actual collision was threatened, some of these ladies, unable to control their anxiety for the safety of their husbands, would be overcome with suppressed emotion, and grow for the moment wild with terror. It was on these occasions that Mrs. Taylor and Miss Betty maintained their self-possession, and had kind words and hopeful suggestions for those suffering sisters. And when at last some rumors reached Baton Rouge of battles fought, of blood being shed, of men and officers falling in the strife; when those heart-stricken wives and daughters of the soldiers engaged were left to the agony of apprehension, Mrs. Taylor, still always calm and cheerful, was a constant source of comfort, and shed around her an atmosphere of hope, an inspiration of true courage. At last when names were given of those who fell on the fields of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, the stricken ones of the garrison suppressed their wild sorrow, lest they should wound the feelings of their superior in rank and influence, and in the little chapel founded by Mrs. Taylor sought, through the holy influences of religion, that consolation that could reconcile them to the irretrievable loss of friends, brothers, fathers and husbands. There was at this time, amid these scenes of actual war, a bit of domestic history revived in Mrs. Taylor s mind that no doubt made a strong impression.
General Taylor was a great admirer of business men, and was opposed to his daughters marrying officers of the army. He condemned his own life by saying that soldiers never had a home, and in this sentiment was cordially sustained by Mrs. Taylor, who no doubt in her heart reviewed her varied life from place to place on the frontiers, and her constant separations from her husband, with a regret she could not conceal. It was this cause that called forth so much opposition from the family to Lieutenant Jefferson Davis marrying the second daughter, Sarah, which opposition resulted in an elopement and runaway marriage. General Taylor, at the time this occurred, was away from home on military service, and when he heard of it he expressed himself in the most unmeasured terms of disapprobation. He seemed utterly insensible to the feelings which inspired the young people in such an adventure, and persisted in looking upon “young Davis” as having done a dishonorable thing, and his daughter as being entirely regardless of her filial obligations. To all protests calculated to lessen his indignation, he would make the invariable replies, “that no honorable man would thus defy the wishes of parents, and no truly affectionate daughter be so regardless of her duty.” General Taylor, though a man of strong impulses, and possessed of but little training to conceal his feelings, except what military discipline enforced, was at heart of a generous and forgiving nature; and no doubt time would have brought about its softening influences, and the usual ending which follows all runaway matches would have taken place,—reconciliation and entire forgiveness. But ere this occurred, within a few short months of her marriage, Mrs. Davis suddenly died, and a beloved child upon whom he had garnered all his affections passed forever away, the last words she had from him being those of reproof and condemnation. This incident and the sudden death of her daughter left a deep impression upon Mrs. Taylor’s life. Naturally of a quiet disposition and living from necessity almost entirely away from influences of society, this sad domestic history was left to make the greatest possible impression upon her mind. That General Taylor keenly cherished for long years his sense of sorrow was destined to be most romantically displayed. His call for volunteer troops at the time he believed his little army was imperilled, on the eve of its memorable march from Corpus Christi to the Rio Grande, was answered promptly by Louisiana and Mississippi. The last-named State promptly organized a splendid regiment, composed of the very elite of the native young men, and Jefferson Davis was elected its commander.
At Monterey the 1st Mississippi regiment was stationed at one of the forts in the suburbs of the city, and in the battle that ended with the defeat of Ampudia, its Mexican defender, Jefferson Davis received a slight wound. Before this event, at the time and subsequently, it was noticed that Colonel Davis and General Taylor had never met, and it was evident that this was designed and not the result of accident—there was an understanding seemingly that kept them apart. The cause of this was freely discussed, and it came to the surface that a reconciliation had never taken place between General Taylor and Colonel Davis on account of the elopement, and so things remained until the close of the three days’ struggle that ended in triumph at Buena Vista. It was on the occasion when victory seemed hesitating where she should bestow her wreath—when the men of the North and the West had exhausted their energies—when Clay, Crittenden, Yell, and their brave compatriots slept in death on the bloody field—at this moment, when Santa Anna believed and announced himself the hero of the field, and when he concentrated his favorite troops to make a last charge upon our dispirited and exhausted columns, that Colonel Davis, at the head of his Mississippi regiment, nobly sustained the shock, and sent the foe back disappointed and dismayed. Then it was that “Old Zach,” seeing by whom he, his gallant men, and his country’s honor, had been saved, had no place in his heart but for gratitude, and the long estranged embraced each other and wept tears of reconciliation upon the battle-field.
Time passed on, and General Taylor completed his brilliant campaign. Our country had then, for nearly two generations, been unused to war, and the magnificent achievements of old “Rough and Ready” filled the hearts of the people with the intensest admiration. The old cottage on the low bluff at Baton Rouge gradually became of classic interest. Grateful people travelling along the highway of the great Mississippi, representing every State in the Union, and every civilized nation of the earth, would admiringly point out General Taylor’s residence. If any of those great western floating palaces stopped at Baton Rouge, some of the passengers would climb up the hill and visit the “garrison grounds,” and the young ladies especially would make the pilgrimage in hopes they might see Miss Betty, whom they with woman’s quickness of perception, felt was to be the first lady of the land, by presiding at the White House.
How much the neatness of that home, its characteristic simplicity, its quiet domestic comforts, the self-possession and unpretending, yet lady-like manners of its inmates, impressed themselves on the public, and prepared the way for that popular affection that greeted General Taylor on his return from Mexico, and culminated in his triumphant election to the Presidency, is difficult to decide; but that it had an element of strength and of vast importance is certain, and presents in a strong view how much can be done by the devoted, sensible wife, in aiding her husband in achieving success.
Meantime, General Taylor returned, the triumphant soldier, to the United States. However wonderful were the subsequent victories achieved over the Mexicans, in the brilliant march from Vera Cruz to the City of Aztecs, the novelty of the war when this was enacted, was gone. The first impressions remained vivid, the subsequent ones were received with gratification, but not enthusiasm. General Taylor returned, not only a military hero, but over his head was suspended the wreath of an approaching civic triumph; and the little cottage on the bank of the Mississippi that Mrs. Taylor selected for her strictly private residence, became a Mecca for pilgrims from all lands, and for more than a year it was the centre of interest, where patriotism, intellect, and beauty paid homage. In recalling the impressions made upon the public through the press, it is well remarked what a full share of compliments were paid to Mrs. Taylor, and how grateful was the task of every one to praise Miss Betty for her agreeable manners, her hospitality, and her resemblance to her father in matters of good sense, and the further possession of all accomplishments that adorn her sex. But this flow of visitors, this public ovation, this constant bustle about Mrs. Taylor was submitted to and borne, but never received her indorsement and sympathy. Her heart was in the possible enjoyment of a quiet household. She saw nothing attractive in the surroundings of the White House. All this “worldly glory” defeated her womanly ambition, and her life-long dream that, at some time or another, “the General” would be relieved of his public duties, and that together in the retirement of their own estate, unnoticed and unknown except to their friends, they might together peacefully end their days; and that the realization of her modest ambition was due to her, for the separations and wanderings that had characterized all her early married life.
General Taylor was by habit a public servant, and his future, as shaped by circumstances, he quietly accepted. But Mrs. Taylor opposed his being a candidate for the Presidency. She spoke of it as a thing to be lamented, and declared when such a position was first foreshadowed, that the General’s acquired habits would not permit him to live under the constraints of metropolitan life; and to those of her intimate friends who spoke of his being President, she sadly replied, “That it was a plot to deprive her of his society, and shorten his life by unnecessary care and responsibility.” With the announcement that General Taylor was President-elect, came his resignation as an officer of the army. It was after all a sad day for him and his family, when he severed a connection that had lasted so long, and had been made so memorable by a life of conscientious duty. Miss Betty now appeared on the scene as an agent of national interest. The White House under Mrs. Polk had been grave and formal. There was a cold respectability and correctness about it, that was somewhat oppressive to the citizens of Washington; and there was a degree of earnest pleasure created in the public mind when it was understood that as a consequent of General Taylor’s election, there would preside over the White House a lady eminently attractive in her personal appearance, young in years, accomplished in mind, and made more interesting, if possible, by being the bride of Major Bliss, who had served so faithfully under her father as his accomplished Adjutant-General.
Elizabeth Taylor, third and youngest daughter of President Taylor, was twenty-two years of age, when, as Mrs. Bliss, she assumed the formal duties of Hostess of the White House, her mother, from disinclination, refusing to accept the responsibility of official receptions. Mrs. Bliss, or Miss Betty, as she was popularly called, was at this time admired by all who saw her, and had the distinction of being the youngest daughter of any chief magistrate who had honored our Presidential receptions with her presence. Her face was pleasant, her smiles exceedingly attractive, and her eyes beamed with intelligence. She had been throughout her life but little with her parents. When not among her relations in Virginia or Kentucky, she was at some boarding-school. Her education was completed at Philadelphia, after which she resided with her parents. No inauguration of any of the later Presidents was more enthusiastically celebrated than General Taylor’s. He was at the time the nation’s idol. Everything in his history charmed the popular mind, and the fact that he was a total stranger to Washington—that his family were unknown, gave a mystery and novelty to the whole proceeding quite different from common place precedence.
For this reason, more than ordinary encouragement was given to the celebration of the occasion by a grand ball. A wooden building of enormous size was erected, which at the time was considered an “immense affair.” It was tastefully decorated with flags and other proper insignia; in the enthusiasm of the hour, many articles were loaned for its decorations by citizens, who ordinarily took no interest in these “stated occasions.” The best music that could be obtained was in attendance, and to give the crowning zest, “Miss Betty” was to be present. The Lady of the Mansion for the next four years, young, handsome, and hopeful, was to be presented to the admiring public.
There was the usual crowd and the characteristic confusion; but nevertheless there pervaded the multitude an intense desire to behold the new occupant of the White House. There was a “Hero President.” There was a charming young bride, a young and graceful lady to do the honors of the public receptions. “At eleven o’clock, General Taylor entered, leaning on the arms of Major Seaton and Speaker Winthrop.” His fine eye was bright, his step was elastic, he was brave, he was a conqueror, he was President, and the gentlemen expressed their feelings in spontaneous cheers, while ladies waved their handkerchiefs and many wept for sympathy. A silence ensued, a movement at the head of the room indicated that a new scene was to be enacted. The throng pressed back, and Mrs. Bodisco, then the young and handsome wife of the Russian Minister, enveloped in a cloud of crimson satin and glistening with diamonds, supported by two ambassadors emblazoned in gold lace and orders, came forward—just behind were two “Louisiana beauties,” a blonde and a brunette, whose brilliant charms subsequently divided the gentlemen in perplexity as to which should be acceded the palm of the belle of the evening. “Which is Miss Betty?” whispered the throng as these queenly creatures, by their native charms, without the aid of dress, eclipsed the more glowing splendor of the Russian court. Then behind these came “Miss Betty,” plainly dressed in white, a simple flower in her hair, timid and faltering, yet with an expression in her eye that showed she was Zachary Taylor’s favorite child. The expectations of the vast crowd were for the moment realized, and then followed expressions of enthusiasm that were overwhelming.