grandmother. An old Scotch tutor later assumed charge of the studies
of Octavia and her brother, instructing them together in the
sciences and languages. The facility with which Octavia mastered the
latter was an evidence of the remarkable elasticity and adaptability
of her nature. She acquired readily not only the language, but all the
gestures and mannerisms of a foreign people. To her father this branch
of her education was a matter of much interest. In the year 1821, when
she was eleven years old, he became Secretary of State for Florida
under Andrew Jackson, who was governor of the Territory. There often
came to him in connection with the affairs of his office, letters and
despatches in French and Spanish, of both of which languages she had so
accurate a knowledge that he could entirely rely upon her translations
of them. During a court ball at which she was present while in England,
some years after her marriage, she delighted the ambassadors from
France, Spain, and Italy by talking with each in his own tongue. She
pleased the Holy Father no less upon the occasion of her audience with
him, when, after he had spoken with her in both French and Spanish,
thinking it might be less of an effort for him, she asked him to speak
in his own tongue. During her residence in Florida, where her father
succeeded General Jackson in the governorship, she also acquired a
goodly store of Indian legends, which became later the delight of many
an audience. She related on shipboard one night the story of Alabama
having received the name from a tribe of Indians who were driven by a
fierce northern foe to the forests of the southeast, and, coming upon a
beautiful river, the chief struck his tent-pole, exclaiming "Alabama!
Alabama!" meaning, "Here we rest." She was greeted, upon going on deck
the following day, with an outspread buffalo-robe, which a Chicagoan
was taking to England as a gift for the Queen, and requested to make it
her "Alabama" during the remainder of the voyage.
When her father selected a permanent seat of government for Florida, he
permitted her to give it a name, and she called it Tallahassee,--the
Indian word for "beautiful land,"--as a courtesy to the Seminole chief
who had first pitched his tent on the spot. She had much sympathy and
affection for the Indians, often pleading their cause against some act
of aggression or injustice, and they had a tender reverence for her,
calling her frequently "the white dove of peace."
One of the memorable events of her young life was the visit of
Lafayette to America. It enters into the record of many lives that
covered that period, some of which were far spent and some so
tenderly youthful that the little marquis saluted them only by proxy,
delegating somebody else "to kiss the babies" while he shook countless
outstretched hands, for he was as complaisant as he was artistic.
He wrote to the widow of his old friend, General George Walton,
expressing a wish to see her during his stay in Mobile. Her health
was not sufficiently robust, however, to admit of her undertaking a
journey with the few comforts that were then possible. She sent her
daughter-in-law and her granddaughter to represent her, intrusting to
Octavia a miniature of her husband, the better to recall his features
to Lafayette's memory and to enable him to realize how strong was the
resemblance the little girl bore to her illustrious grandfather. She
talked to him in French, so that the interview was to Lafayette a time
of delightful relaxation, and it was with genuine reluctance that he
saw it draw to a close. To Octavia it was the first in a long series of
interesting memories associated with Mobile, whither her family removed
from Florida in the year 1835. In the latter State, however, she spent
the happy period of her young womanhood; hence Lady Emmeline Stuart
Wortley, in some lines addressed to her at a later period, calls her
"Sweet Rose of Florida."
Pensacola was the naval station of the gulf coast, and the constant
coming and going of men-of-war, with the attendant festivities of balls
of welcome and farewell banquets, were a distinctive feature in the
social life of that portion of the Territory.
Octavia Walton, the governor's daughter, cultivated intellectually
to a degree that made her the appreciative listener and intelligent
talker among men of science and of letters, and with a personal beauty
that made her the admiration of every one, occupied from her earliest
girlhood a position of unusual prominence.
Long runs with her brother in the invigorating air of the coast had
given to her supple figure, with its graceful curves, that erect
carriage which she always retained. Her head was well poised, and her
soft brown hair parted simply above a broad brow of unusual whiteness
and transparency. In her blue eyes there lurked a suggestion of
the cool and quiet depth of a forest, while her mouth, that feature
which, says Oliver Wendell Holmes, we all make for ourselves, denoted
the sweetness of her character. These were the visible forms of the
loveliness of the young Octavia Walton, whom Frederika Bremer, the
Swedish novelist, called "the magnolia flower of the South."
In 1835, the year her family moved to Mobile, accompanied by her
mother and brother, she made a tour of the United States, visiting
during the summer the famous resort of the North, Saratoga Springs,
and going to Washington after the assembling of Congress in December.
She attained a fame during that year that made her the inspiration of
poets noted for the beauty of their lyric verse, and the subject of
several analytical writings. She formed during the same period the
friendship of two of the most eminent men of that time, Washington
Irving and Henry Clay. She met Irving in travelling, and discovered
his identity in a singular way. It was three years after his return
from Spain, where he had represented his country with so much dignity
and ability that his welcome home had been much in the nature of an
ovation. The stage-coach, in which so many pleasant acquaintances were
made, was yet the usual means of transportation, though the duration
of journeys had been greatly lessened by the successful introduction
of the steamboat, in which enterprise Fulton already had competitors,
one young Vanderbilt running a rival line on the Sound between New York
and Providence. Irving, who had been on the dock when Fulton made
the first experiment with his steamer, used to relate with exquisite
humor how the breathless silence of the crowd of curious spectators
who watched her puff off into the stream was broken by the voice of
an incredulous man saying, "She may go well enough for a time, but
give me a good sloop." Being singularly shy, he usually talked but
little among strangers. Divining in the young girl, who sat opposite
him in the stage-coach for several days during the summer of 1835,
those same qualities--"the sound and pure intellect and the heart
full of affection"--that so endeared her to Miss Bremer, he dropped
frequently into the current of bright talk she kept up with her mother
and brother. They speculated frequently upon his identity, for his
appearance was unusual, his manner courtly, and his language that of a
most cultivated man. While she was talking with her brother in Spanish
one day, he joined in their conversation and related some incident in
connection with a bull-fight he had seen when in Spain. Octavia had
already heard the identical story from another source, and, connecting
the two narrations, she exclaimed, quickly, and quite unconsciously
betraying the fact that his identity had been a matter of curiosity
to her, "I know who you are! You are Washington Irving. Mr. Slidell,
who related that story to me, told me that Washington Irving was
standing beside him when it happened." Thus began a friendship that
had an extensive influence upon her life. Realizing how keen were her
powers of observation, and how unusual her command of language, he
advised her to keep a journal, which was her first effort at writing,
at which she attained later a leading position among women of letters
at the South. He corresponded with her till the end of his life, and
aided her with many suggestions gathered from his own experience in
a long literary career. She in return shed many a ray of brightness
over an existence that, with all its fame and success, was not without
its lonely hours. The last time they met he reluctantly watched her
departure from Sunnyside. "I feel, my child," he said, "that you are
taking all the sunshine away with you."
Henry Clay looked upon her with the same tender pride that
characterized Irving's attitude towards her. The beauty of her feet
being at one time a subject of comment in his presence, he said that,
while he was not prepared to pass judgment upon them, he was proud to
be able to bear testimony to a beauty of tongue that he considered
without parallel. Like Irving's, his friendship for her knew no change
during the remainder of his lifetime. When the corner-stone of the
monument erected to his memory in New Orleans was laid, she delivered
an address that was well worthy of the eloquence of the man it
eulogized.
In 1836 Octavia Walton was married, in the city of Mobile, to Dr.
Henry S. Le Vert, a son of Dr. Claud Le Vert, who, coming to America
as surgeon of the fleet under Rochambeau, had remained there after
the termination of hostilities, settling in Virginia, and marrying a
niece of Admiral Vernon. As Madame Le Vert, Octavia Walton attained
that same social sovereignty that was achieved a few years later by
Mrs. Rush, of Philadelphia, and at a still more recent period by Mrs.
Astor, of New York. The same sort of instinctive tribute was everywhere
accorded each of these women, raising her to an eminence in which
she was sustained by the unusual order of the gifts with which she
was endowed. In Mobile, so absolute was the leadership of Madame Le
Vert that she was frequently designated simply as "Madame," it being
everywhere understood that the title without the accompaniment of any
name applied only to her.
Her home on Government Street was the most noted of the city. There
she entertained at various times not only the most distinguished of
the people of her own country, but many eminent foreigners, Kossuth,
among others, and Frederika Bremer. Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley, the
daughter of the Duke of Rutland, having been her guest for several
weeks, gave her later that introduction that made possible the
establishment of her social fame in England.
Joseph Jefferson, growing up in the profession in which he now stands
in the foremost rank, and in whom she early recognized the divine spark
of genius, had frequent proofs of the kindliness of her hospitality.
Her library was the feature of her home in which she always evinced the
most interest. She never abandoned those habits of study which kept
her in touch with the progressive minds of the world. Beauty alone
is not sufficient to give a woman the place Madame Le Vert filled.
It attracts, but there must be behind it the sustaining force of an
intelligence radiating sympathy, of a mentality developed and adorned
with those graces that enable it to enter into and illuminate the
lives that approach it. She continued to read in the foreign languages
she had mastered in her early girlhood, painstakingly teaching them
to her children, whom, in their infancy, she often sung to sleep with
the love ditties of Italy. To her husband she was a continual source
of revelation and pride. Precise, practical, profoundly interested
in his profession, he felt little interest in the purely fashionable
element of the life that revolved about her. In her relationship to
it, however, her power to attract and hold such a diversity of tastes
and temperaments he found an interesting study. At her levees and
receptions it was his delight to take up his position where he could
watch her, and, if possible, where he could occasionally catch the
sparkle of her words.
To a nature keenly alive to every impression, the loss of her only
brother, to whom she was attached by ties of an extraordinary sympathy,
brought a grief that for a long time overshadowed her happy spirit. A
few years after this loss,--in June, 1853,--accompanied by her father
and the elder of her daughters, she made her first visit to the Old
World, whose treasures and resources her classical education had so
ably fitted her to enjoy. Her journal and letters written during this
period and a subsequent trip ring with the enthusiasm of a girl. They
formed the basis of her first published work, which met with much
success, for in those days the theme was fresher, and she handled it
with a sprightliness that gave individuality and interest to every
page. Very graphically she relates how the first ardor with which she
embarked upon the new and delightful experience of a transatlantic
voyage was quenched by that unromantic malady, sea-sickness. With the
memory of the torture fresh upon her, she wrote that Solomon, when
he ejaculated, "O that mine enemy would write a book!" probably knew
nothing of the agonies of sea-sickness, or he would rather have invoked
that malady upon him.
The London season was at its height when she arrived there. Well
introduced, she created so favorable an impression upon a society
where the success of an American depends largely if not entirely upon
personal merit as evinced by his or her good breeding, intelligence,
and powers to entertain, that she experienced all the delights of a
hospitality which to the uninitiated is cold and exclusive. She was
presented to the Queen at a court ball, to which she received the
unusual honor of an invitation without a previous presentation to Her
Majesty. With genuine regret she saw the days allotted to her stay
in England draw to a close. Everywhere, however, she found and made
friends, many strangers recognizing in her, in all its strength and
purity, that sympathy which makes the world akin, and involuntarily
opening their hearts to her. She was intensely interested in every
one and everything, so that her life never contracted. Her early
memories were associated with the Spanish, and she never outgrew
her appreciation for the grace of their civilization. Her ability to
speak the language added much to the pleasure and profit of her visit
to Spain, and her journal recounting her stage-coach experiences
contains frequent allusions to the unfailing courtesy of the people
of that country. In Italy her knowledge of the language of the land
again made her the spokesman of her little party, and with beneficial
results. In Florence she had the pleasure of meeting the Brownings,
and the interest they inspired in her seems to have been mutual. Mrs.
Browning, whose health did not permit her to go out in the night air,
broke the rule it had entailed upon her and went to a party given in
honor of Madame Le Vert on the eve of her departure, that she might
once more have the pleasure of seeing and talking with her. During one
of her visits to Rome she had one of those peculiar experiences that
evinced the friendliness she everywhere inspired. She had gone with her
daughter to St. Peter's to attend the ceremony known as the Apostle's
banquet. At the termination of the exercises there began an awful
struggle for liberty in the packed aisles of the great church. Madame
Le Vert was well-nigh overpowered, when suddenly she felt herself
lifted from her feet, raised high in the air, and safely ensconced on
a window-ledge, while a reassuring voice whispered, in French, "There,
little woman, don't be afraid; you'll be safe there." Her rescuer was
a powerful Russian woman, who, when she had placed Miss Le Vert beside
her mother, said, simply, "Do not forget me when you think of the
Apostle's banquet," and moved away with the surging crowd.
In all her journeys, both in her own country and in Europe, she was
accompanied by her colored maid Betsey. "North, South, East, and
West," wrote one of her friends, "goes Betsey with her mistress
through bristling ranks of abolitionists, up the Rhine, over the Alps,
everywhere goes Betsey."
"If you would see the ideal relationship between a lady and her female
slave," said Frederika Bremer, "you should see Octavia Le Vert and her
clever, handsome, mulatto attendant, Betsey. Betsey seems really not to
live for anything else than for her mistress Octavia."
At the Austrian border they were put through a series of questions,
all of their responses "being recorded," said Madame Le Vert, "for
the benefit of posterity." Betsey was put down as a Moor, much to her
dismay, and she besought her mistress to assure them that she "had
nothing but pure American blood in her veins, and was a slave from the
South."
During her second visit to Europe, in 1855, Madame Le Vert spent the
summer in Paris, the governor of Alabama having named her Commissioner
from that State to the Paris Exposition of that year. His gallantry was
a frequent subject of comment and appreciation, for she was the only
woman among the commissioners. The position, however, seems to have
been purely honorary, for she lamented that when asked to point out
the products of Alabama in her department, she could only indicate her
daughter. "If there had been even only a few cotton-seed," she said,
"it would at least have served to swear by."
She witnessed the enthusiastic reception tendered by the French nation
to the Queen of England, was present at the ball given by the Emperor
in her honor, and was at the opera the night the royal party visited
it, when the whole audience rose _en masse_ at the first note of
England's national anthem, sung by Roger, Alboni, and Cruvelli. She
heard with a thrill of enthusiasm the "Vive la Reine Victoria" that
burst from a thousand lips, and saw the Emperor lead the gracious queen
three times to the front of the box to acknowledge the tumultuous
tribute. In her own box sat, on that memorable night, an ex-President
of the great republic across the water,--Millard Fillmore.
A visit made during her stay in Ferrara, Italy, to the home of the poet
Ariosto so impressed Madame Le Vert that it was productive of a notable
result after her return to America. His house had been purchased by the
government, and everything in it was preserved in the order in which he
had left it at the time of his death. Realizing that it was regarded
as a shrine, and devoutly visited by those who would honor the memory
of the immortal poet, her thoughts reverted to the home of the great
American general, Mount Vernon, then falling into decay, whereas it
might be similarly preserved by the patriotism of the people. She took
up the question earnestly after her return to America, and did for the
cause at the South as much as Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis did for it at
the North. In one day she received at her home in Mobile, in small
contributions, upward of a thousand dollars.
Many of Madame Le Vert's most charming letters were written to her
mother. After a long day of travel or sight-seeing she frequently sat
up far into the night that she might not neglect the pleasant duty of
writing these letters.
Her parents' home in Mobile, of which city her father was for a time
mayor, was near her own, and she continued to be much with them until
their lives closed, which they did in close succession, shortly before
the outbreak of the war. Her husband's death occurred during the last
year of that melancholy period which shook the homes of the South to
their foundation. She went North and remained for over a year after the
close of the war, accompanied by her two daughters. She returned to
the South for a time, but eventually removed to New York, disposing of
her home and many of her possessions, the losses she had sustained and
the altered conditions of her life rendering Mobile no longer to her a
place of happy existence.
Having been so long a leader, she continued to exercise various queenly
prerogatives, which to many people at the North seemed eccentric. She
had not the prestige there that would have made them possible, though
she was never without her coterie of admirers.
Her later years were not affluent, and she was obliged to put her
talents to bread-winning purposes. She died in the city in which she
had been born, Augusta, Georgia, on the 13th of March, 1877.
FANNY TAYLOR
(MRS. THOMAS HARDING ELLIS)
The loveliness of Virginia women has been a theme of song and verse.
Among the Richmond belles of sixty years ago none were more justly
celebrated than that trio known as the Richmond Graces, Sally
Chevalier, Fanny Taylor, and Sally Watson. Close companions from early
childhood, their unusual beauty as they grew to womanhood brought
them fame individually and collectively. Sally Chevalier became the
wife of Abram Warwick, Sally Watson, of Alexander Rives, and Fanny
Taylor, of whom this sketch is designed to treat at greater length,
was twice married. She was educated at the excellent school of Miss
Jane Mackenzie, in Richmond, at a time when a young lady's education
embraced a rather superficial dip into the languages, a good deal of
poetry, some history, a neat Italian handwriting, and a care of their
peach-blossom complexions and slender hands. Frivolous as it sounds
compared with the curriculum of girls' schools in good standing at this
end of the century, the history of the South furnishes many evidences
of the profundity as well as the brilliancy of its women.
[Illustration: FANNY TAYLOR
(MRS. THOMAS HARDING ELLIS)
From portrait by Thomas Sully]
With her friends, Sally Chevalier and Sally Watson, Fanny Taylor was
a pupil in the dancing academies of Mr. Xaupi and Mr. Boisseau. They
excelled in the grace and beauty of their dancing, and at the Assembly
balls it was their custom to occupy places in the same cotillon. They
enjoyed the delicate celebrity of having pieces of dancing-music named
after them, and when "Sally Chevalier," "Fanny Taylor," or "Sally
Watson," was called for, Judah, Ruffin, and Lomax, those dusky magnates
of the ball-room, brought forth the melody with an air that was their
own peculiar tribute to the fair young queens.
About the time she reached maturity, Fanny Taylor removed with her
mother from Richmond to "Glenarron," the superb James River estate of
her brother-in-law, Mr. William Galt. Shortly afterwards she returned
to Richmond, where she spent a winter as the guest of her friends, Mr.
and Mrs. Warwick. She became noted as the most beautiful woman in the
Old Dominion. In a word, she was the belle of Richmond, which boasted
the most delightful society in the South, and she would not have
exchanged places with a princess of the royal house of England.
Richmond of those days was too small for social divisions and
subdivisions. There was but one set, and every one who went
into society at all belonged to it. It was well established and
conservative. Its traditions were ancient, and it tolerated no
innovations. It had its calling hours from twelve till four, when
its drawing-rooms were crowded with young men from the neighboring
plantations, professional men, and legislators, on whose ears the tones
of the Capitol bell announcing the opening of the session were wont to
fall in vain. There were dancing-parties for young people, beginning
at seven or eight in the evening, and dinner-parties for distinguished
guests at four o'clock in the afternoon.
The graceful art of carving formed an indispensable part of a
gentleman's education, and a host gave tangible proof of his
hospitality when from his end of the table he served his guests with
his own hand, selecting the choice parts of a joint or fowl for the
guest of honor.
The ladies retired at the conclusion of dinner, leaving the gentlemen
in possession of the table, being a custom of their English forefathers
which their colonial antecedents had adhered to probably in the
log-cabin days when there was a state occasion.
There were no teas and no _débuts_. Girls never came out, because, as
Thomas Nelson Page has said, "they had never been in." As soon as they
were old enough to be out of the nursery they drifted naturally into
the drawing-room, and there grew up in that social sphere which many of
them were destined later to sway as queens.