Part 10

After he grew too feeble to act as a guide he kept to his cabin, and though the ills of his accumulating years bore heavily on him he always enjoyed chatting with visitors who stopped to talk with him as he sat on his doorstep in the summer or by the blazing logs in his big fireplace in the winter. Although never bedridden, his strength slowly faded away and at last he died quietly on September 4, 1901.

Not only was he given the boon of being buried in the garden, near the tomb of his deeply venerated old master, but the added honor was given him of having his funeral held in the hall of the Hermitage, his casket resting on the same spot where he and Gracey had stood to be married more than sixty years before. His funeral was attended by large numbers of his friends, both black and white, and ministers of both races participated in the burial services. Both Alfred and Gracey had originally been members of the little Hermitage church, but after Gracey's death, Alfred transferred his membership to a near-by church of his own people.

In typically weird cadences Uncle Alfred's black-skinned friends raised their quavering voices to sing his old favorite:

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand and cast a wistful eye; On Canaan's bright and happy shore where my possessions lie.

And so he was borne through the broad front door of the Hermitage and laid to rest in his long home in the garden. "Faithful servant of Andrew Jackson" it says on his modest tombstone; and all those who read the Scripture know of the reward in Heaven promised to the good and faithful servant.

VI: THE HERMITAGE HOUSEHOLD

The true character of a man in public life is often misjudged by the people when only his public acts are taken into consideration; but the facts about his real disposition and inclinations are invariably revealed clearly and infallibly in his home life. Andrew Jackson stands this test admirably; for visitors to the Hermitage were always impressed with the gentle and considerate conduct of the man at home. A contemporary wrote that the Jackson household "was the abode of native dignity, artless good cheer, instinctive courtesy and a hospitality which no adjective is adequate to describe." And, making due allowance for the permissible hyperbole of a grateful guest, it is a compliment to any family to receive such a warm tribute.

Parton records that Jackson, "so irascible sometimes and sometimes so savage, was never so much as impatient with children, wife or servants. It used to astonish people who came for the first time to the Hermitage to find that its master, of whose fierce ways and words they had heard so much, was indeed the gentlest and tenderest of men." And then he proceeds to tell of how an unexpected visitor to the Hermitage one evening found the old man seated in his big rocking chair "with a chubby boy wedged in on each side of him and a third, perhaps, in his lap" while he was trying to read his newspaper.

A similarly flattering picture of the domestic side of the General's life is to be found in the published recollections of Thomas H. Benton. Benton knew all sides of Jackson's character for he was first his admiring young henchman, then his bitter enemy and then his devoted friend again. He was with Jackson on the battlefield, he was with him in the political maelstrom of Washington, he visited him frequently in the quiet seclusion of the Hermitage; and of the latter aspect of the old chieftan's life, Benton says that "He was gentle in his house and alive to the tenderest emotions." As an instance of this--an instance, it should be observed, greatly at variance with the popular conception of his character but worth more than a long discourse in showing what that character really was, Colonel Benton tells of how he arrived at the Hermitage one wet, chilly evening in February and came upon the General in the twilight sitting alone before the fire, a lamb and a child between his knees. "He started a little," says Benton, "called a servant to remove the two innocents to another room, and explained to me how it was. The child had cried because his lamb was out in the cold and begged him to bring it in--which he had done to please the child, his adopted son, then not two years old. The ferocious man does not do that!" This incident made a deep impression on Colonel Benton, and he referred to it again in a eulogy on Jackson's character delivered after the latter's death.

Another early visitor at the Hermitage left this observation concerning Jackson, the host: "Had we not seen General Jackson before we would have taken him for a visitor, not the host of the mansion. He greeted us cordially and bade us feel at home, but gave us distinctly to understand that he took no trouble to look after any but his lady guests. As for the gentlemen, there were the parlor, the dining-room, the library, the sideboard and its refreshments, there were the servants; and if anything was wanting all that was necessary was to ring. He was as good as his word. He did not sit at the head of the table, but mingled with his guests, and always preferred a seat between two ladies, obviously seeking a chair between different ones at various times. He was very easy and graceful in his attentions; free and often playful, but always dignified and earnest, in his conversation. He was quick to perceive every point of word or manner, was gracious in approval, but did not hesitate to dissent with courtesy when he differed. He obviously had a hidden vein of humor, loved aphorism, and could politely convey a sense of polite travesty. If put upon his metal he was very positive but gravely respectful. He conversed freely and seemed to be absorbed in attention to what the ladies were saying; but if a word of note was uttered at any distance from him audibly he caught it by a quick and pertinent comment without losing or leaving the subject about which he was talking to another person--such was his ease of sociability without levity or lightness of activity, and without being oracular or heavy in his remarks." And isn't that a perfect picture of the gentlemanly host?

As a specific and characteristic instance of Jackson's attentiveness and courtliness to his guests one of the neighbors used to tell of how a homely young girl who had been taken by Mrs. Jackson to be raised at the Hermitage was acting the part of a wall-flower at an evening's entertainment there one time. "When all the beautiful women and distinguished men had been introduced around," she said, "General Jackson, seeing that she had been forgotten, caught her by the arm and introduced her with so much earnestness as to indelibly impress a pleasurable sensation with her until her death and was ever a green spot in her life."

It is significant of the beneficent influence of Rachel Jackson on the Hermitage and its social life that no guest ever recorded his impressions of a visit there without pleasant mention of her gracious presence. Indeed, no account of the home life of the Hermitage could be complete without a deferential tribute to the spirit of this woman who occupied so large a place in Jackson's life and whose lovable nature contributed so much to making the Hermitage a delightful place to be. "Her quiet, cheerful and admirable management of her household" made a lasting impression on Colonel Benton, and of her he says in his recollections: "She had the General's own warm heart, frank manner and hospitable temper; and no two persons could have been better suited to each other, lived more happily together, or made a house more attractive to visitors. She had the faculty--a rare one--of retaining names and titles in a throng of visitors, addressing each one appropriately, and dispensing hospitality to all with a cordiality which enhanced its value. No bashful youth or plain old man whose modesty sat them down at the lower end of the table could escape her cordial attention any more than the titled gentlemen on her right and left. Young persons were her delight, and she always had her house filled with them--clever young women and clever young men--all calling her affectionately 'Aunt Rachel.' I was young then and was one of that number. I owe it to early recollections and to cherished convictions to bear this faithful testimony to the memory of its long mistress, the loved and honored wife of a great man."

Aunt Rachel, according to another contemporary, was "the childless mother of all the young people of the neighborhood;" and the old house probably didn't seem much like a hermitage with the young folks making the rafters ring with their laughing and singing, the General gaily joining in the chorus when his old favorite tunes were raised.

The fine ladies of New Orleans, when Rachel went there in 1815 to join in the celebration of the general's great victory, tittered at her homely appearance and her sun-tanned arms and face; latter-day biographers and magazine writers have written of her with slightly up-tilted noses, overemphasizing her alleged lack of formal education and dwelling unduly on her old-fashioned habit of smoking a pipe by her fireside at night--a practice suggested by her family doctor as a relief from asthma. But if ever a woman had a heart of gold it was Rachel Jackson; and none ever visited the Hermitage while she was alive but went away to sing her praises.

Contrary to the popular impression, perhaps, the Hermitage household was conducted on the lines of an old-fashioned Christian home, with a regular devotional hour in the evening which was attended by the whole family and also by the house servants. This practice was followed after Rachel's death as well as before. After the son's marriage his wife always conducted the musical part of the devotional exercises; but when she was not at home the old General himself would line the hymn ("Alas, and Did My Saviour Bleed" was one of his favorites) and lead in prayer.

Young Mrs. Jackson's widowed sister, Mrs. Adams, was musically talented, and during the General's declining years she gave him much pleasure with her playing of the piano and guitar and with her singing. The General's favorite song was "Auld Lang Syne;" but when Mrs. Adams would take her guitar of an evening, seated at the fireside, and would play and sing "Johnny Sands" or some of the other humorous songs of the day, Jackson showed his keen enjoyment even though he loved the old songs best.

Mrs. Adams, with her musical talent, was a valued and enlivening addition to the Hermitage family group, and after her coming she always provided the music for the many impromptu dances in the Hermitage parlors. Despite his advanced years the General took great delight in these affairs; and it was the customary thing for him to start off the festivities of the Virginia Reel by taking his daughter-in-law as a partner and dancing the first round with her.

It was one of the minor tragedies of Jackson's life that he, who set such store by his home life, should have no family of his own; but to fill the vacant place in his heart left by the lack of children he legally adopted his wife's nephew and bestowed on him the most sincere and lavish affection a father could give his own son.

It was on December 22, 1809, that the wife of Severn Donelson, Mrs. Jackson's brother, gave birth to twin boys. The news reached the General and his wife as they sat at the breakfast table in the old Hermitage. Mrs. Jackson, upon receiving the message, looked across the table at the General and said: "I'm afraid brother's wife will be unable to raise both the little fellows with all those other children--she isn't very strong, you know. Suppose we take one of them."

Rachel's merest suggestion was law to the General; and so after breakfast the horses were brought to the door and away they went to brother Severn's to see the new twins and suggest the adoption. The mother agreed to the proposal, the General promptly had the infant's name officially changed to Andrew Jackson, junior; and from that day he treated him as his own son. Aunt Hannah, the most trusted of the house servants, was assigned to his special care; and it was in her strong arms that he was carried two miles through the woods from his birthplace to the Hermitage which was to be his future home. Hannah lived to be 101 years old, and never tired of telling of how she reared the young master. Later she was assigned to the duty of looking after Mrs. Jackson; and then Alfred took charge of little Andrew and helped bring him up to the estate of young manhood. Those were gay days on the Hermitage farm when little Andrew was growing up, and the loyal and loving Alfred was taking him hunting and fishing, along with the little Donelson cousins.

The tender and patient devotion of the old General to his adopted son is one of the most touching chapters of his life. From the day old Hannah brought him in her arms across the threshold of the Hermitage, the General ever referred to him as "my son;" and had the boy actually been his own offspring he could not have treated him with more kindly and enduring affection. In his letters to his wife, while he was off fighting the Indians in Alabama, he never failed to mention little Andrew; and in one of these letters, following the bloody battle with the Creeks at Tallapoosa, he wrote: "Tell Andrew that I have for him a warrior's bow and arrow." The picture of the rough, turbulent, Indian-fighting frontiersman painted by conventional history does not tell us much of this side of the old soldier's nature.

When the General returned from the Indian wars, Mrs. Jackson went to Huntsville to meet him and carried the little boy along; and when she went to New Orleans in 1815 to attend the popular celebration given there by the citizens in honor of her illustrious husband's great victory over the British, little Andrew again went with her. A current account of visit of the General's family to New Orleans brings out the fact that little Andrew was a pet at headquarters; and it is easy to believe the statement that the General could not deny him anything and spent every leisure moment in playing with him, often holding him in his arms while he transacted business. One evening, so the story goes, some companies of soldiers stopped beneath the windows of headquarters and the crowd began to cheer the General and call for his appearance. Little Andrew, asleep in the next room, was waked up by the commotion and began to cry. The General had already started to the window to answer the cheers of the people in the street below, but when he heard the boy whimpering he went to his bedside, picked him up, soothed away his tears and carried him along to the balcony where he bowed to the people and, at the same time, amused little Andrew with the scene in the street.

When the General was made Governor of the Florida Territory in 1821, and went there with Mrs. Jackson to take up his residence, they took Andrew with them as Mrs. Jackson would not think of leaving him behind; but the country around Pensacola was not, with its heat and its mosquitoes, an ideal place for a child, and so in August he was sent home when one of Jackson's staff officers returned to Tennessee.

As the boy grew older he was sent to college in Nashville and was given every opportunity available to the son of a prosperous and distinguished father; and it is easy to see, from what Jackson said and wrote, that he had the greatest ambitions for the boy he had chosen to be his son and to perpetuate his name.

When he went to Washington to be inaugurated President in 1828 he left young Andrew at the Hermitage to help wind up affairs there; but Andrew went on to Washington in a few months, as soon as his foster father had got settled in the White House. After a brief stay in Washington he returned to the Hermitage, however, chiefly because of a love affair with a young lady of the neighborhood, a ward of their neighbor Colonel Ward who lived at Hunter's Hill and mentioned in one of Jackson's letters as "the daughter of my deceased friend," but now known only as "Miss Flora."

Jackson's solicitude for his son's happiness and well-being was never more strongly revealed than in the benevolent letters of fatherly advice he wrote him from Washington during the late summer of 1829 when the young man was back at the Hermitage prosecuting his suit. It is a little amusing to find the President setting aside the affairs of state to dip his oar into the management of the courtship; but Jackson had a flair for match-making, and also his affection for Andrew was so great that he did not want to see him make any mistake. While the love affair was progressing he made no direct objection to it, although he repeatedly expressed the firm conviction that Andrew should not permit the young lady to trifle with him but should press her for a positive answer one way or the other; and he was obviously relieved when his son wrote him at last to say that he had been rejected. The General wrote Andrew a kindly letter of consolation, venturing the sour-grapes comment that Miss Flora was "a fine girl, but a coquette;" and he begged the young man not to enter into any more love affairs without consulting him.

Young Andrew returned to the White House after the shattering of his Tennessee romance; but it wasn't long before he again fell a victim. This time the object of his affections was Miss Sarah York of Philadelphia, one of three orphan sisters of good family and social standing. Miss Sarah was a spirited young lady and had declared her unwillingness to marry the ordinary run of suitors. Indeed, she was quoted as saying that she "wouldn't marry less than a prince." But the sons of kings were hard to find in this republican country, and so she evidently decided to lower her sights sufficiently to be satisfied with a mere President's son. Jackson approved of the match when told of his son's new flame, and the wedding took place in Philadelphia on November 24, 1831. Acting on the old General's instructions, Andrew brought his bride to the White House at once; and, from the moment he clasped his new daughter in his arms at the front door of the White House, she had a place in his affections until the time of his death that was never disputed by anyone.

Andrew and his young wife remained with Jackson in Washington until the spring of 1832, setting out on April 12th to take up their residence in the Hermitage, which was to be their home all the remaining years of their lives. Accompanying them on the journey to Tennessee was Sarah's cousin, Miss Emma Forbes, who came along to keep Sarah company while she was getting accustomed to her new home, and the General strictly enjoined Andrew to "give all your attention to Sarah and Emma. They are strangers in a strange land." Evidently Andrew made the strangers feel very much at home, so much so that Miss Emma soon fell in love and married Andrew's own twin brother, Thomas Jefferson Donelson, and became a resident of the Hermitage community.

Young Andrew was at this time twenty-three years old; and although the General expressed the fullest confidence in him and made it clear to him that he wanted him to take charge of affairs at the Hermitage and run the place, he nevertheless took the precaution to write out for him before he left a memorandum which is a model of thoughtful and thorough suggestions for a young man about to assume the management of an extensive estate. In this memorandum he authorized the son to purchase from Samuel Donelson a tract of 100 acres adjoining the Hermitage for $1,500; instructed him to have a settlement with the contractor, Mr. Morrison, who had been making the additions to the Hermitage and building the tomb in the garden; instructed him to arrive at a settlement of the accounts of Steele, the overseer, giving him a detailed account of all the involved transactions in which that worthy had tangled himself; reminded him that he was expecting Steele to make enough brick to build a new stable for the riding and carriage horses, with suggestions as to the plan for the stable; gave careful instructions about the desired procedure in connection with the horses and other cattle. "When you reach home," he wrote, "I hope you will find the supplies and furniture which I have sent on safe at the Hermitage. The pipe of Maderia wine you will have placed on its stand and one-half gallon of best French brandy put into it and after two or three days it will be fit for use. You will have the old dining room newly papered for Sarah's and your bedroom as it will be more convenient than upstairs; but when she sees the house she can judge for herself. The carpet in the portrait room shall be taken for that, and the one in the parlor put in one of the rooms upstairs. Sarah will arrange the rooms and furniture. If the supplies I have sent on reach home in safety you will have an abundant supply of sugar, coffee, Maderia and Sherry wines, etc. Salt and flour will be the only articles to be laid in, but you will have now to begin to learn the wants of a family and supply it. This will require economy and care, which you will have to learn and attend to if you expect to get through life well--by always knowing your means and living within them you will get well through life. This has been my rule and I recommend it to you."

Sarah undoubtedly enjoyed her new rôle of mistress of the President's home place, and she immediately set about giving the Hermitage that deft touch of feminine management which it had lacked since Rachel's death. Within a few days she was writing to the General about the need for a carpet for the dining room, more table linen and some additional silverware for the table. Jackson promptly attended to these matters, doubtless greatly pleased at Sarah's interest in household affairs.

Sarah's interest in her new home, however, was apparently not shared to any great extent by her husband. Jackson in his parting memorandum had urged his son to write him fully about the state of affairs on the farm; but Andrew neglected to do so, and from that time forward Jackson's published correspondence reveals clearly the difficulty he had in impressing on young Andrew the importance of attending strictly to business and the apprehension the absentee planter in Washington was caused by the slack management of the plantation by the young man.

There were forebodings of trouble on this score from the very first. As early as May 25, 1832, Overseer Steele wrote Jackson: "I have prest on Andrew to pay strict attention to the management and manner in which your affairs has been conductied during your absence but it appears that he don't take the least pride or feel the least intrusted in the farm or aneything there pertaining."

At this very time Jackson was writing his son: "I have no wish to acquire wealth for myself. If I can add to your and Sarah's comforts whilst I live and leave you comfortable and independent of the world when I die, I am contented." A few days later he wrote him: "The jewelry of your dear mother is under your care. Present to Sarah, with my affectionate regard, the pearl necklace, ear rings, etc."