During the afternoon of the day the President left the Executive Mansion, the house in which he was a visitor was crowded to overflowing with friends and admirers who gathered about the members of his family to express their attachment. For two weeks the same scene was re-enacted, and day and night the numerous callers crowded the spacious dwelling. One continued ovation of people of every political party assured them of their popularity, too wide-spread to be circumscribed by party lines. Behold them, reader, as they were seen that last night in Washington! The invalid wife is in her room, too feeble to walk, but surrounded by hearts softened and eyes moistened at the prospect of seeing her no more. Mrs. Patterson is bidding a farewell to the sorrowing band of employés who have asked as a last favor for a photograph, and she makes the gift the more acceptable by presenting them with pictures of all the family, accompanied by her deeply felt and eloquently expressed thanks for faithful services and personal friendship. Ever and anon the familiar face of a servant appears, and is not disappointed in the welcome received, or the parting token of well-merited reward for faithful services. Flowers, “recalling all life’s wine and honey,” shed their aroma through space, and soften by their delicate beauty the feelings of all kindly natures.
Time unheeded passes, and yet the advent of callers forbids the wearied eyes to close, or the final preparations to be made. With a hand raw and swollen from the hand-shakings in Baltimore a few days before, Mr. Johnson stands placid, earnest, and deeply interested in the final words of all. The lateness of the hour, not the last of the stream of visitors ended the affecting scene, and a weary but happy household slept at last, and their public life in Washington was ended.
XXIV.
MARY STOVER.
The second daughter of President Johnson was married in April, 1852, to Mr. Daniel Stover, of Carter county, East Tennessee. He died December 18, 1864, leaving her with three small children.
Mrs. Stover remained at home after the removal of her father’s family to Washington until the last of August, and then, accompanied by her interesting family, took up her residence in the White House.
Said a newspaper correspondent of her: “Visitors at the White House during the past two or three years may retain the memory of a dignified, statuesque blonde, with a few very fine points which, a fashionable butterfly once said, would make any woman a belle if she only knew how to make the most of them. Mrs. Stover never became a star in fashionable circles, and now that she has left the gay capital, perhaps for a lifetime, she is remembered by those who knew her best as a charming companion of the domestic fireside, a true daughter and judicious mother.”
During the administration of President Johnson, the White House was brightened by the glad, happy faces of children, and for the first time since its occupation they became a part of the society of the House, and exerted a powerful social influence outside. Nothing afforded their little friends more pleasure than to be invited to the President’s House, and the agreeable manners of the hostesses and hosts rendered their visits always delightful.
Mrs. Stover’s little trio, and her sister’s son and daughter, were an attraction not to be resisted; and nothing pleased old acquaintances more than to be invited into their private apartments, where the games and plays of the young people interested more sedate heads. During the day, writing and music lessons hushed their merry voices, and the tasks of indulgent mothers occupied reasonable spaces; but after the evening meal and the return of the boys from out-door sports, the merriment began to the infinite delight of every one. Strangers who at the formal receptions saw the stately, sometimes haughty appearing daughter receiving with quiet grace the many who drew near for the inevitable shake of the hand, little knew the sociability and good nature hidden beneath her calm exterior.
It was a source of enjoyment and much laughter to Mrs. Stover’s friends to watch her actions on social occasions, especially when her sister was not present. Like a statue the first part of the evening, with a look of resignation on her face irresistible, she would gravely return the salutations proffered, and resume her forlorn expression as soon as the persons passed on, only to be addressed again by other strangers, whose names their owners sometimes forgot and she rarely ever heard. Much sympathy she would receive from kind-hearted acquaintances who supposed her wearied, until the band struck up the last air, and then they would be astonished at the glad light in her eye and the fervor with which she would bow them out. Bantering did no good, nor good-natured rebukes from the many spies who enjoyed her agony and deprecated her evident regret at parting. Often as she performed the task, she acted over her amusing rôle; and the last time she assisted at a reception, before her departure for her home, her penetrating eye discovered the suppressed smile, which broadened into hearty laughter as she tried to suffer meekly the infliction she would bear no more; but true to habit, she expressed her farewells with so much impressiveness that old habitués detected her and the old suspicion was aroused as to her sincerity. Long after the lights in the parlors were out, she repeated her experiences up-stairs to a friend, and congratulated herself that she was relieved from the only irksome task connected with her life there.
It was from no want of appreciation or just estimate of her position, but an unfeigned diffidence which she could not overcome, which kept her from mingling in the society of the Capital. And perhaps a feeling that she was not understood, developed this disinclination to meet strangers. To persons to whom she was attracted, she was gay and affectionate, full of interest and thoroughly devoid of affectation. Her children imbibed this trait, and none ever saw evidences of deceitfulness on the part of any member of the family. A native strong sense, called common, but in fact a rarity, enabled her to discern the true merits of individuals, and in her conduct toward others to recognize the truth of her father’s motto, that