Mid such scenes and under such influences passed all the years of Mrs. Van Buren’s life.
In February, 1807, at the age of twenty-five, she was married to Mr. Van Buren. The intimacy which resulted in this union was formed in early childhood, and the marriage took place as soon as his position at the bar would justify such a step. The steadfastness of his attachment to his young relative was a remarkable trait in the character of Mr. Van Buren, and adds a lustre to his honored name.
Some time after their marriage they removed to Hudson City, where eight years of wedded life passed fleetly away, they losing, in the meantime, the youngest of their four sons, an infant only a few weeks old. In 1816, Mr. Van Buren removed his family to Albany, drawn thither, doubtless, by his increased and increasing professional standing and political leadership.
From this time forth, the highest wishes of his early life were crowned with complete success. Wealth, fame and influence were the fruits of his unremitted industry for nearly twenty years. “His natural talents had reached their full expansion; his laborious industry exhibited its proper results; and amid a constellation of great minds, whose brilliant efforts erected and adorned the fabric of New York jurisprudence, the vigor of his intellect and the richness of his learning won for him a conspicuous and acknowledged eminence.”
But the voice of adulation fell upon unheeding ears when sickness invaded the household and hastened the cherished wife and mother from her loved ones. Not even the ardent devotion, the deathless affection of the husband whose efforts in life had all been made for her, could stay the destroyer in his cruel work. For months she lay an invalid, tended by those who loved her more than life, and then sank into the grave a victim of consumption.
A gentleman of high distinction, who knew her intimately from her earliest years, said, “There never was a woman of a purer and kinder heart.” Gentle and winning in life, her memory is redolent with the perfume of her saintly sweetness and purity. Miss Cantine, the niece of Mrs. Van Buren, who was but sixteen years of age at the time of her aunt’s death, gives this picture of her last days: “Aunt Hannah lived but a short time after their removal to Albany, dying at the early age of thirty-five, when her youngest child was still an infant. I can recall but little about her till her last sickness and death, except the general impression I have of her modest, even timid manner—her shrinking from observation, and her loving, gentle disposition. The last, long sickness (she was confined to the house for six months) and her death are deeply engraved on my memory. When told by her physicians that she could live, in all probability, but a few days longer, she called her children to her and gave them her dying counsel and blessing, and with the utmost composure bade them farewell and committed them to the care of the Saviour she loved, and in whom she trusted.
“This scene was the more remarkable to those who witnessed it, as, through the most of her sickness, she had been extremely nervous, being only able to see her children for a few moments on those days on which she was most comfortable. They could only go to her bedside to kiss her, and then be taken away. As an evidence of her perfect composure in view of death, I will mention this fact. It was customary in that day, at least it was the custom in the city of Albany, for the bearers to wear scarfs which were provided by the family of the deceased. Aunt requested that this might be omitted at her burial, and that the amount of the cost of such a custom should be given to the poor. Her wishes were entirely carried out.”
The following obituary notice is in itself a sketch of the character of Mrs. Van Buren, and was written by one who knew her better than any one out of her own family.
From the Albany Argus Feb. 8, 1819.
“Died in this city, on the evening of Friday, the 5th inst., after a lingering illness, Mrs. Hannah Van Buren, wife of the Hon. Martin Van Buren, in the thirty-sixth year of her age. The death of this amiable and excellent woman is severely felt by a numerous circle of relatives and friends. As a daughter and a sister, wife and mother, her loss is deeply deplored, for in all these various relations she was affectionate, tender, and truly estimable. But the tear of sorrow is almost dried by the reflection that she lived the life and died the death of the righteous. Modest and unassuming, possessing the most engaging simplicity of manners, her heart was the residence of every kind affection, and glowed with sympathy for the wants and sufferings of others. Her temper was uncommonly mild and sweet, her bosom was filled with benevolence and content—no love of show, no ambitious desires, no pride of ostentation ever disturbed its peace. When her attention was directed, some years before her death, to the important concerns of religion and salvation, she presented to the gospel she embraced a rich soil for the growth and cultivation of every Christian principle. Humility was her crowning grace, she possessed it in a rare degree; it took deep root and flourished full and fair, shedding over every action of her life its genial influence. She was an ornament of the Christian faith, exemplifying in her life the duty it enjoins, and experiencing, in a good degree, its heavenly joys, its cheering hopes. In her last illness she was patient and resigned. In the midst of life, with all that could make it worth possessing—esteemed and loved, happy in her family and friends—she was forced away. But she left all without a sigh. She waited the approach of death with calmness—her Redeemer had robbed it of its sting and made it a welcome messenger. Doubtless, ‘’twas gain for her to die.’ Doubtless, she is now enjoying that rest ‘which remaineth for the people of God.’ Precious shall be the memory of her virtues,