distinguished man is materially increased in the person of Mr.
TYLER, for and against whom so much has been said and written. And
as I am no politician, but have had the opportunity of seeing a
great deal of our Chief Magistrate, personally and in private, I
propose to give to the readers of the KNICKERBOCKER a few personal
characteristics of the President, drawn from my own knowledge and
observation. They are not in themselves of any deep interest,
being such as arise in the every-day occurrences of life; but they
therefore the better portray _the man_, and are of much interest on
that account.
I remember one evening that a plain countryman from the interior of
Pennsylvania called upon the President, and seemed to eye him with
keen scrutiny. He was evidently a person well-to-do in the world;
who owned the acres that he tilled, and had a good many broad ones;
a holder of his own plough, from habits of industry rather than
from necessity; and one who, evidently, had always spoken his mind
without fear or favor. His plain but clean attire, and his honest,
open countenance and proper bearing, struck me very forcibly, and
reminded me of a remark which I once heard General Harrison make of
Tecumseh, the celebrated Indian warrior, who has been called the
'Napoleon of the West.' General Harrison observed that the Indian
was one of the most gentlemanly men he had ever seen. I asked him
how that could be?
'Why,' he replied, 'he had self-possession and self-respect.'
This old farmer had these manly qualities. After a long chat with
the President, he observed:
'Well, Mr. Tyler, you are a very different man from what I took you
to be.'
'How so?' asked the President, laughing.
'Why I thought you were a large, red-faced, haughty man, with your
hair combed back and tied in an old-fashioned cue, and that you
were as proud as Lucifer. Why, you are as plain as a pikestaff, and
as free-spoken as if you had no secrets in the world. I am glad
I came to see you, Sir; I have been much deceived.' And so has
every man been much deceived who has taken upon hearsay personal
prejudices against the President. His personal appearance is very
prepossessing. He is above the middle height, and slim, with long
arms, and a quick, active gait. His forehead is prominent and
very intellectual, with the perceptive faculties, according to
phrenology, strongly developed. His hair is light and thin, and
mixed with gray. His eye is a light blue, quick and penetrating; at
the same time it is frank and open, with a quiet humor lurking in
the corner. His nose is remarkably prominent, cheeks thin, and mouth
compressed. The whole face is full of character, and the features
are remarkably plastic and expressive; changing with every shade of
thought that passes through his mind. He is said to bear a strong
resemblance to the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, but his features have none
of that rigidity which marks those of the Duke. His conversational
talents are of the first order, and he tells a tale with great
unction and glee, and with remarkable effect.
I remember the first time I saw the President, I was invited to
dine at the White House by his son; and it so happened that after
dinner I fell into conversation with the Chief Magistrate upon
Mr. JEFFERSON, of whom he spoke in terms of great enthusiasm. I
have since seen a letter from an old friend of the President's,
reminding him that he had often expressed the wish before the
decease of Mr. Jefferson, an event which, from his advanced age was
long expected, that he might deliver his eulogy. It so turned out
that the President was appointed; and any one who will read the
different eulogies pronounced upon Jefferson, will be struck with
the republican appreciation of his character and virtues which Mr.
Tyler has set forth with such earnest and vivid eloquence.
I remember well seeing the President the day after the first veto.
Great excitement prevailed in all parties throughout the day. The
avenue was alive with groups of people in earnest talk, and many
visiters, particularly, members of the Democratic party, repaired to
the White House at night to tender their thanks to the President for
the course he had pursued.
In the dead of the night the inhabitants of the President's square
were aroused by the shouts of a drunken mob, who, with discordant
fife and old tin-pans for drums, proceeded to the executive mansion
and yelled, in consequence of the veto, those insults in the ears
of the President and his family, among whom was the wife of the
President, then in extremely delicate health. The day after all
this, I met Mr. Robert Tyler in the street, as I was proceeding to
my dinner, who invited me to dine with him, observing that there
was nobody at the house but the family. We entered the White House
at the southern front, and found the President seated with his son
Tazwell by his side, a lad of fourteen, whom the President was
teaching his lesson. It instantly struck me that there was a moral
energy in the President of which his enemies little dreamed.
'Peace has her victories,
As well as war;'
says Milton, in his splendid lines to Cromwell, and this is one of
them. For months every persuasion to which eloquence could give
power, had been exerted on the President, to obtain his veto on the
one hand, and his signature on the other. The Whig party, in the
plenitude of its power, personified in the person of their bold
leader, the 'lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,' and standing
on the grave of General Harrison, hallowed by his death, and full
of the dictation of success, felt themselves like Olympian Jove
with thunderbolt in hand ready to strike down to endless political
perdition the 'Acting President' if he dared to veto. The threat
was made in tones of thunder, by their great champion. But, lo! the
veto came, and calm amidst the breaking of the storm, the President
was teaching his little son his lesson. It was a Roman one. In
the battle-field a moment often decides the victory. A moment of
decisive action which requires no wear and tear of spirit for
days, weeks, and months--amidst imprecations and execrations--but
an energy which springs to life on the instant, such as Napoleon
exerted at Lodi, but which exhibits no greater powers of purpose
than President Tyler exhibited--for none but those who witnessed
it, can have any idea of the many and the powerful influences which
were brought to bear, to obtain the President's signature to the
Bank Bill--influences exerted not only by the distinguished and
the powerful, face to face with the Chief Magistrate, but through
the portentous threatenings of anonymous letters, of the most
assassin-like and dastardly character.
We all remember the effigy-burning that succeeded the veto, and
which, the President said, 'served but to light him in the path of
duty.' A little anecdote which occurred at the dinner-table one
day between Mr. John Tyler, Jr. and the President, will show how
good-humoredly the President bore a jest upon the subject. There
were several young gentlemen present at table, guests of the sons
of the President. The Chief Magistrate sat among them, enjoying the
talk with apparently as much interest as if the magnates of the
nation were around him.
The conversation happened to turn upon the question as to which was
the greatest man, Napoleon or Cæsar; and during the conversation,
Mr. John Tyler, Jr. chanced to observe, that he had seen it
stated, that Pompey's statue, at the base of which Cæsar fell, had
been discovered in some excavations made in Rome. 'Ah?' said the
President; 'well, John, was there any blood upon it?'
'You don't believe it, I suppose, father?' said the son.
'Why, John, I don't doubt that you have read of the excavation, but
I doubt very much if it was truly Pompey's statue; for, after the
lapse of so many centuries, the authentication of the statue must be
very doubtful.'
'Well, Mr. President,' replied his son, very archly, 'I will tell
you of one thing, of which there will be little doubt.'
'What's that?' asked the President.
'Why, some years from this, when some well-digger, or house-builder,
or other person, is excavating in the neighborhood of Nashville
Tennessee, Louisville Kentucky, or some other place that might be
named, he may light upon a stuffed Paddy some six feet high, the
earth half burned, with a rope around its neck: 'Ah, what's this?'
some one may inquire. 'Why,' replies another, 'it is the effigy of
that John Tyler, who vetoed the Bank Bill!'
'Ah,' said the President, laughing heartily, 'you have me there,
John.'
I may here remark of Mr. JOHN TYLER, Jr., who is the private
secretary of the President, that he is a very handsome man, with
courtly manners; that his partialities are to the study of the
sciences, rather than to politics; and that he has written a
pamphlet upon electricity, which is said to exhibit much knowledge
and originality.
Those who have not witnessed the terror which prevails among the
clerks, on a change of parties in power at Washington, or even of a
change of the head of a department, who, it is rumored, intends to
make removals, can have no idea of it. Some poor clerk, who supports
a large family upon one thousand or twelve hundred dollars, may have
inadvertently let slip an imprudent expression, which some ready
spy retails and makes public, with a thousand exaggerations, and,
lo! the report takes wind that he is to be removed. Then comes the
distress of his agonized wife and children, while the poor woman
hurries to the President, or to the head of the department to which
her husband belongs, to intercede for him, and save herself and
family from ruin.
When General Harrison came into power, multitudes of such fears
prevailed, and with fearful truth for their foundation. The good
old General himself had no wish to proscribe, but proscription was
the word with too many of his friends. I may mention a circumstance
which came under my own knowledge.
The head of a certain department, shortly before General Harrison's
death, turned out a clerk of his, who was accused of having busied
himself in politics--a poor man, who had a wife and six children.
She is a beautiful woman, but twenty-six years of age. Her agony
was such as to render her almost insane. The removal left her and
her children houseless and homeless, with the husband and father
in debt. Fiction has wrung many a heart to tears with a fancied
picture not to compare in sorrow to the truth of this. Shortly after
this removal, General Harrison died, and was laid in state in the
hall of the White House, whither flocked multitudes to gaze upon
his lifeless remains, and reflect upon the instability of earthly
power, and the vanity of all human greatness. I met the lady of the
removed official with, another lady, and but one escort, on their
way to look their first and last upon the departed President; and I
joined her. General Harrison I had known well, and I spoke of his
goodness of heart, and manliness of character, as we proceeded, with
an earnest truthfulness, which seemed to impress the wife of the
official, by whose side I walked.
'I blame ---- for my trouble,' she said, naming the head of the
department, half to herself; 'I believe the old General was
good-hearted.'
We entered the White House. In state, just before the entrance, lay
the General. His features were placid, and betrayed little or none
of the sufferings of the departed spirit. My companion gazed upon
him earnestly and long, and then said, with a hysteric start:
'I would to God it was ---- who was lying in that coffin! I'd give a
party to-night, poor as I am!'
One may well fancy how deep the agony of heart of a sensitive lady
must have been, to wring from her such an expression. In fancy,
she heard the voice of her children crying to her for bread; and
to her excited mind they appeared before her, dead as the departed
President, and of hunger; for so she said, in speaking of her
expression afterward.
It was a scene, in those days, to see the department 'let out,'
as the boys would say at school. The aspect of those clerks whose
political bias was known to be against the party in power, was
lugubrious enough. They did not look like gentlemen who, after their
official labors were over, were going to their dinners, but as if
they were wrapped in sorrow, and wending to a funeral.
One day, shortly after the succession of President Tyler, a certain
gentleman turned out fifteen of his officials, in one fell swoop.
They got their notices that their services were no more needed
by the department, about two o'clock, P. M. The public gardener
happened to be in the President's grounds when he heard the news,
and seeing the President on the portico, he advanced to him and said:
'Mr. President, only think of it; they're turning all the poor
clerks out.'
The President immediately despatched a note for the official, who
was soon in the President's presence, and ready to recount the
political sins of the expelled.
'Reinstate them,' said the President; 'I cannot bear to have their
wives and children coming to me with accounts of their sufferings,
when I can prevent it.'
The President never thinks of making a display of mere official
dignity. He never thinks of the _President_, unless he is fulfilling
some presidential duty, or unless some one presumes, from his
kindness of manner, to encroach upon his dignity; and then the
encroacher instantly discovers how much he has erred. This, more
than one senator and representative can tell, who has undertaken the
task of dictation to the President.
Dickens, who found so much fault with our institutions, and our
people generally, justly remarked of our Chief Magistrate, when he
called to pay his respects to him: 'The expression of his face was
mild and pleasant, and his manners were remarkably unaffected and
agreeable. I thought that in his whole carriage and demeanor he
became his station singularly well. And yet, as I have before said,
he never seems to think of the display of official dignity.'
A distinguished artist who had been employed by the King of France
to copy Stuart's full length likeness of WASHINGTON which hangs in
the White House, was invited by the President to be his guest while
copying the picture. The President also employed him to take the
likeness of himself, Mrs. Robert Tyler, and his youngest daughter,
Alice. The artist's manners were distinguished by the profoundest
observance of courtly etiquette; and the Jeffersonian ease of the
President's manners served to surprise him. I remember one day while
the family circle were all seated round the fire after dinner, the
artist rose, and with a profound salaam, said: 'Mr. President, with
your permission I will retire to my work.'
'My good fellow, do just what you please,' replied the President,
good-humoredly smiling, as the artist bowed himself out of the room.
The President has a peculiar power of inspiring confidence in all
who approach him. In the summer-time it is the custom for the
National Band of the Marine Barracks to play alternately at the
Capitol and in the President's grounds. Crowds of citizens, with
senators and representatives accompanying the ladies of their
families, walk through the grounds while the band is playing, salute
their acquaintances and chat with their friends till the music
ceases, when they all, as the sun goes down, loiteringly leave. The
President and his family always appear on the portico that fronts
on the grounds of the White House, to which steps ascend from both
sides, and receive their friends and acquaintances, who call on
these occasions to pay their respects to the Chief Magistrate and
his household. His manners are so very unpretending that, but for
the respect that is paid him, you would not distinguish the Chief
Magistrate from the group among which he familiarly mingles, unless
you were an observer of character, and then you would know him from
the absence of all restraint in his person and conversation, and the
freedom and entire frankness of his intercourse with those around
him.
On one of these Saturday afternoons, two countrymen, who looked like
persons who had come to market, approached the portico, evidently
with a desire to see the President. One of them asked a gentleman
who was ascending the steps, which was the President. The gentleman
pointed out the Chief Magistrate, and asked the countryman if he
would like to be introduced to him.
'Why,' replied the countryman, 'I am not of his way of thinking, but
they say so much about him and against him, that I should like to
have a good look at him, any how.'
'Come up; he 'll be glad to see you. Won't your friend come?'
The friend declined; and the gentleman with his new acquaintance
beside him, who gave him his name, ascended the steps. The President
instantly noticed the countryman, and observed that the visiter felt
some diffidence in approaching him. Mr. Tyler accordingly quit the
group by which he was surrounded, and advanced to meet him. On his
name being mentioned, the President gave him a hearty shake of the
hand, and asked him from what State he came?
The countryman replied, from Virginia.
The President entered into conversation with him, and they stood
talking together some ten minutes or more, when with a smiling
countenance, and a frank offering of his hand, the visiter withdrew.
'There,' said the President, as the visiter left, 'is a man who,
consulting the native manliness of his impulses, has a propriety
of deportment that is better than any thing that Chesterfield has
taught. He is one of Nature's noblemen.'
After hearing this remark, the introducer was anxious to know what
impression the President had made upon a political opponent, who had
made such an impression upon the President. He accordingly followed
him as he walked away with his friend, who had waited below.
He was persuading his friend to go up and be presented to the
President, and his introducer overheard him say:
'I tell you what it is, neighbor, I believe they lie about him
faster than Eclipse can run.'
The President is truly a republican. He is often heard to express
the loftiest sentiments of patriotism in his family circle, when
he can have no purpose of popularity in view, but merely the wish
to give utterance to his feelings. A visiter at the White House
remembers well on one occasion, being then the only guest, when
the Rhode Island difficulties were in their midst, when some one
laughingly asked him, 'how he would like to be a King?' The reply
was: 'I am afraid, in spite of my democracy, that I should say what
the king of Prussia said to Doctor Franklin, that were he in the
Doctor's situation he would be a republican too; but being born a
king, he was determined to support king-craft.'
The President, who was gazing out of the window, and as it was
thought not at all attending to the idle talk, turned quickly round
and said with animation:
'I would rather settle the Rhode Island question upon the true
principles of the constitution, establish a just treaty with Great
Britain, and give my administration an honorable place in the
history of the republic, than win and wear the most princely crown
in christendom.'
The jokes between Mr. WISE and the President are often very amusing.
Mr. Wise is the devoted friend of the President. The representative
from Virginia drives a little one-horse carriage, and one day the
President observed to him:
'Wise, that carriage of yours looks like a candle-box on wheels; why
don't you get a more genteel one?'
'Why, Mr. President, it is a much more genteel one than yours. You
keep four horses, which you don't drive more than once a month; and
when you do, you hitch them to a second-hand carriage.'
'Why, Wise, how did you find that out?'
'Find it out? Didn't you drive it about for a month, with the coat
of arms of Mr. PAULDING, late Secretary of the Navy upon it?'
'What of that? Is not Paulding the real Simon Pure of the democracy?'
'Democracy blazoning its coat of arms!' replied Wise. 'I was really
glad one day when I stopped at the carriage-maker's to get my truly
republican vehicle mended, to see the ex-secretary's carriage there,
and a workman employed erasing the coat of arms; making a plain
pannel for your excellency.'
'Well,' replied the President, 'I claim to be descended from Wat
Tyler, the blacksmith, and I had better have a good stout arm
grasping an uplifted hammer, blazoned on my pannel; don't you think
so? It would be a real democratic knock-down to Paulding's heraldry.'
Speaking of the President's carriage, reminds me of an anecdote of
his coachman, Burrell. Somebody asked Burrell which he liked best,
Virginia or Washington?
'Virginia,' replied Burrell. 'I think there are more gentlemen in
Virginia, Sir, than there are about Congress. In Virginia, Sir, if a
gentleman wanted to abuse the President, he wouldn't come right by
his carriage, where I, his coachman, am sitting, to talk it out so
as I can hear it. I, Sir, I've waited on him ever since he was first
married; I ought to know what kind of a man he is; and the way they
lie about him makes me so savage sometimes, that I feel as if I'd
like to have some on 'em tied to a tree, and have fair play at 'em
with this horse-whip.'
This anecdote is enough to show what kind of a master the President
is.
When Pettrick the sculptor was stabbed by some midnight assassin, as
soon as the President heard of it he hurried to his studio, where
the deed was perpetrated, and not only ordered him to be provided
for, but saw him attended to himself.
One Sunday just after dinner, there were several loud ringings of
the front door bell, when the President, who had left a gentleman
alone in the dining-room, returned and said: 'They have it through
the city that I have been shot!'
'With paper bullets of the brain, I suppose they mean, Mr.
President,' said the guest.
'No,' replied the President, 'with leaden bullets from a pistol.
Come, walk out on the portico, and smoke your cigar.'
The President with his guest walked out on the portico, whither soon
came thronging a crowd of the President's friends, who, hearing the
report through the city, had hastened to the White House to learn if
there was any truth in the story.
There was no truth whatever in it; but every body present was struck
with the President's indifference to the report, and the absence
of all curiosity on his part as to how it originated. He only
remarked: 'If I am shot at, gentlemen, it will be more in malice
than in madness;' and apologizing, by saying that daily confinement
required that he should take exercise, he rode away in his carriage
unattended.
As a husband and a father, President Tyler is a model for any
man; and particularly for public men, who too often neglect their
families. For a very long time the lady of the President was in
feeble health, which terminated in her death last summer. It was
a beautiful moral spectacle to see the President, amidst all
the cares and perplexities of his exalted station, beset by so
many detractors, so devotedly watchful of Mrs. Tyler's declining
condition. In the midst of the veto days, when engaged in the most
animated political conversation, if Mrs. Tyler chanced to be in
the room, the President's eye every minute wandered to her, in
affectionate regard; and when she left the room upon the arm of her
son or daughter, he would watch her anxiously and in silence till
she withdrew, and would often remain in melancholy thoughtfulness
for minutes afterward, forgetful of the conversation and those
around him.
In bringing up his family, Mr. Tyler has been fortunate. His
daughters, except the youngest, Alice, who is at school, are happily
married, and his sons who are grown, Mr. Robert and Mr. John Tyler,
are gentlemen of honor, manliness, and intellect; and Tazwell, his
youngest son, is a lad of promise. Miss Elizabeth Tyler, who is
now Mrs. Waller, and living with her husband in Virginia, was much
admired in her bellehood when in the White House. Her unpretending
and gentle manners inspired with admiration all who approached her.
'Well,' exclaimed a fashionably ambitious young lady one day to a
gentleman who was attending her on a visit to Miss Tyler, 'if I were
Miss Tyler, I'd blaze my bellehood out as long as my father was
President, and make the most devoted lover in christendom bide my
beck in the crowd.'
The fair Virginian had no such ambition, and thereby proved herself
worthy of the manly heart that has won her.