A Virginia Lady of the Old School.
Among the many beautiful and fascinating women who adorned Richmond
society at the beginning of the present century there were few more
remarkable and interesting than Mrs. Mayo, the wife of Colonel John Mayo,
founder of the bridge at Richmond that bears his name. She was the
daughter of John De Hart, of New Jersey, an eminent lawyer and a member of
the first Continental Congress. Bellville, the home of Colonel and Mrs.
Mayo, in the suburbs of Richmond, was the seat of elegant and boundless
hospitality. No person of distinction ever came to Richmond without
calling at Bellville, the _entrée_ to which was an unquestioned passport
to the best society of the city.
Mrs. Mayo's eldest daughter, Maria, was the most celebrated Virginia belle
of her day. She never gave a decided answer to any of her numerous suitors,
and the story goes that one evening three gentlemen met at her house, and
after a very pleasant visit they returned to Richmond together. One of
them asked the others why they went there, as he was engaged to Miss Mayo
and expected shortly to marry her. The other gentlemen also said they had
hopes of winning the fair lady. The first gentleman determined to have the
matter settled, and accordingly went to her house the following day and
sought an interview with Mrs. Mayo. He told her he had her daughter's
consent, and asked hers. Mrs. Mayo replied she was sorry she could not
give her consent, and the gentleman then understood that the mother and
daughter were in perfect accord in the matter of the young lady's
love-affairs. In this way Miss Mayo kept on hand a regiment of admirers,
who formed a sort of reserve-corps. When John Howard Payne, the author of
"Home, Sweet Home," visited Richmond, he was a frequent guest at the Mayo
mansion. He wrote a poem, in which he described himself as falling asleep
in a grove and all the months of the year appearing to him. The month of
June was the first, and he finally winds up with May, which he described
in very glowing language, ending with the line,--
Sweet May, oh, I could love thee ever.
Maria Mayo is said to have refused more than a hundred suitors before she
accepted General Winfield Scott, who courted her when he was a member of
the Richmond bar as Mr. Scott. After entering the army he continued his
addresses, and was refused successively as Captain Scott and Colonel Scott,
and it was only as General Scott, the victorious hero of Lundy's Lane,
that he at last won the hand of the much-admired belle.
Mr. William Henry Haxall, a very agreeable gentleman of Richmond, relates
that on one occasion he visited Mrs. Scott soon after one of her trips to
Europe. He went in the evening at nine o'clock, and after some time, when
he thought he had paid a call sufficiently long, he slyly looked at his
watch, and, to his amazement, found it was one o'clock. On his apologizing
for the length of his visit, Mrs. Scott assured him she never retired
before one or two o'clock, but that she had no idea it was so late, Mr.
Haxall being one of the most agreeable gentlemen she had ever met, when in
fact he had not spoken a dozen words, but was a charmed listener to her
interesting description of her travels abroad.
In 1828, Mrs. Mayo, in the sixty-eighth year of her age, undertook a
voyage to Europe in a sailing-vessel. After her arrival, she passed most
of her time in Paris, where she was the recipient of very flattering
attentions and the intimate friend and guest of some of the best families
of the nobility, especially those of General La Fayette and his son George
Washington, of the Count de Ségur, and of M. de Neuville, minister of
marine, of whom Mrs. Mayo wrote, January 10, 1829, "He lives in one of the
palaces in grand style, and we see there all the people of the court as
often as it suits us." She renewed also her friendship with many French
families whom she had known in Richmond as refugees during the French
Revolution, and their attentions and evident pleasure at the reunion seem
to have been peculiarly gratifying to her. She returned to Richmond in
1829, and lived at Bellville until that elegant mansion was destroyed by
fire in 1842. After her return, she confined her entertainments almost
exclusively to handsome dinner-parties, at which she presided with
exceeding grace and elegance, and where it was said that, though the wines
were fine, the flavor and brilliancy of the conversation were far
superior. She never retired without a candle and writing-materials at her
bedside, and if during the night any new idea or bright thought arose, she
would immediately strike a light and jot it down. She retained her mental
vigor and personal attractions until her death in 1843, in the
eighty-second year of her age.
The following instances will serve to illustrate Mrs. Mayo's great nerve
and self-possession. She was accustomed to drive daily to the bridge to
collect the toll of the preceding day, consisting generally of silver of
various denominations, which she put in a bag and deposited in the bank.
Her driver Moses was a favorite negro, who had a weakness for drink: he
had several times tried her fortitude and temper severely by upsetting her
into a gully by the roadside leading to Bellville, fortunately with no
serious consequences to her, unfortunately with none to himself. On one
occasion, Mrs. Mayo, being too late for the bank, and intending to pass
the night at the residence of her daughter Mrs. Cabell, took the bag of
silver and placed it in a closet in her room, which was at the back of the
house and opening on a porch. During the night she was awakened by a noise,
and perceived the figure of a man in her room. Pretending sleep, she
quietly watched his movements until she saw him enter the closet, when she
arose quickly, and, rushing rapidly across the room, shut and locked the
closet door in an instant, and called loudly for her son-in-law Dr. Cabell,
who was in the adjoining room. On his hurried entrance, she informed him
that she had a man in the closet, and that he must go for a policeman,
--which was done, and the door opened, when, to their astonishment, there
stood the trusted Moses. Mrs. Mayo, horrified, exclaimed, "Oh, Moses, how
could you try to rob me!" Moses, hanging his head, dropped on his knees,
and, in beseeching tones, replied, "Misses, it warn't Moses: it was the
debbil;" and the old lady forgave him.
At a time when the whole State was in consternation from an apprehended
insurrection of the slaves, when families far and near were flocking to
the cities for protection, and patrols were scouring the country day and
night, Mrs. Mayo was entirely alone at Bellville, with no white person in
the neighborhood. Her friends in vain besought her to go to Richmond. At
length matters became so threatening that some gentlemen, discussing the
subject one night, concluded that it was too unsafe for Mrs. Mayo, and
determined to ride out and insist upon her returning with them to the
city. They reached Bellville about midnight, and, as they rode up, a
window was raised, showing that the brave proprietress was on the _qui
vive_. She demanded, in a quiet, fearless voice, "Who is there?" They
explained the object of their visit, but pleaded and remonstrated
ineffectually. She refused to accompany them, saying she had no fear, and
could protect herself; which she did boldly and safely until the danger
and alarm had passed away.