When a manager brought Mrs. Madison the first number in the dance, she said, smiling: “I never dance; what shall I do with it?”
“Give it to the lady next to you,” was the answer.
“No, that would look like partiality.”
“Then I will,” said the manager, and presented it to her sister.
This lady, who filled every hour of prosperity with the rare sunshine of her nature, in the hour of trial was not found wanting, and in the face of danger rose to the dignity of heroism. Her gallant stay in the White House, while her husband had gone to hold a council of war, and in spite of every entreaty to leave it, is a proud fact of our history. In vain friends brought a carriage to the door. She refused to enter it. The following well-known letter to her sister, proves how bravely, womanly was this heroine of the President’s house.
Tuesday, August 23, 1814.
Dear Sister:—My husband left me yesterday to join General Winder. He enquired anxiously whether I had the courage or firmness to remain in the President’s house until his return, on the morrow, or succeeding day, and on my assurance that I had no fear but for him and the success of our army, he left me, beseeching me to take care of myself and of the Cabinet papers, public and private.
I have since received two dispatches from him, written with a pencil; the last is alarming, because he desires that I should be ready at a moment’s warning, to enter my carriage and leave the city; that the enemy seemed stronger than had been reported, and that it might happen that they would reach the city with intention to destroy it.... I am accordingly ready; I have pressed as many Cabinet papers into trunks as to fill one carriage; our private property must be sacrificed, as it is impossible to procure wagons for its transportation. I am determined not to go myself, until I see Mr. Madison safe, and he can accompany me—as I hear of much hostility toward him.... Disaffection stalks around us. My friends and acquaintances are all gone, even Colonel C. with his hundred men, who were stationed as a guard in this enclosure.... French John (a faithful domestic) with his usual activity and resolution offers to spike the cannon at the gate, and lay a train of powder which would blow up the British, should they enter the house. To the last proposition, I positively object, without being able, however, to make him understand why all advantages in war may not be taken.
Wednesday morning, twelve o’clock.—Since sunrise, I have been turning my spy-glass in every direction and watching with unwearied anxiety, hoping to discover the approach of my dear husband and his friends; but, alas, I can descry only groups of military wandering in all directions, as if there was a lack of arms, or of spirits, to fight for their own firesides.
Three o’clock.—Will you believe it, my sister? we have had a battle, or a skirmish, near Bladensburg, and I am still here within sound of the cannon! Mr. Madison comes not; may God protect him! Two messengers, covered with dust, came to bid me fly; but I wait for him.... At this late hour a wagon has been procured; I have filled it with the plate and most valuable portable articles belonging to the house; whether it will reach its destination, the Bank of Maryland, or fall into the hands of British soldiery, events must determine. Our kind friend, Mr. Carroll, has come to hasten my departure, and is in a very bad humor with me because I insist on waiting until the large picture of General Washington is secured; and it requires to be unscrewed from the wall. This process was found too tedious for these perilous moments; I have ordered the frame to be broken and the canvas taken out; it is done, and the precious portrait placed in the hands of two gentlemen of New York for safe-keeping. And now, dear sister, I must leave this house or the retreating army will make me a prisoner in it, by filling up the road I am directed to take. When I shall again write to you, or where I shall be to-morrow, I cannot tell!