MY INTRODUCTION TO MRS. LINCOLN
Ever since arriving in Washington I had a great desire to work for the
ladies of the White House, and to accomplish this end I was ready to
make almost any sacrifice consistent with propriety. Work came in
slowly, and I was beginning to feel very much embarrassed, for I did not
know how I was to meet the bills staring me in the face. It is true, the
bills were small, but then they were formidable to me, who had little or
nothing to pay them with. While in this situation I called at the
Ringolds, where I met Mrs. Captain Lee. Mrs. L. was in a state bordering
on excitement, as the great event of the season, the dinner-party given
in honor of the Prince of Wales, was soon to come off, and she must have
a dress suitable for the occasion. The silk had been purchased, but a
dress-maker had not yet been found. Miss Ringold recommended me, and I
received the order to make the dress. When I called on Mrs. Lee the next
day, her husband was in the room, and handing me a roll of bank bills,
amounting to one hundred dollars, he requested me to purchase the
trimmings, and to spare no expense in making a selection. With the money
in my pocket I went out in the street, entered the store of Harper &
Mitchell, and asked to look at their laces. Mr. Harper waited on me
himself, and was polite and kind. When I asked permission to carry the
laces to Mrs. Lee, in order to learn whether she could approve my
selection or not, he gave a ready assent. When I reminded him that I was
a stranger, and that the goods were valuable, he remarked that he was
not afraid to trust me--that he believed my face was the index to an
honest heart. It was pleasant to be spoken to thus, and I shall never
forget the kind words of Mr. Harper. I often recall them, for they are
associated with the dawn of a brighter period in my dark life. I
purchased the trimmings, and Mr. Harper allowed me a commission of
twenty-five dollars on the purchase. The dress was done in time, and it
gave complete satisfaction. Mrs. Lee attracted great attention at the
dinner-party, and her elegant dress proved a good card for me. I
received numerous orders, and was relieved from all pecuniary
embarrassments. One of my patrons was Mrs. Gen. McClean, a daughter of
Gen. Sumner. One day when I was very busy, Mrs. McC. drove up to my
apartments, came in where I was engaged with my needle, and in her
emphatic way said:
"Lizzie, I am invited to dine at Willard's on next Sunday, and
positively I have not a dress fit to wear on the occasion. I have just
purchased material, and you must commence work on it right away."
"But Mrs. McClean," I replied, "I have more work now promised than I can
do. It is impossible for me to make a dress for you to wear on Sunday
next."
"Pshaw! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday;"
and she spoke with some impatience.
"I am sorry," I began, but she interrupted me.
"Now don't say no again. I tell you that you must make the dress. I have
often heard you say that you would like to work for the ladies of the
White House. Well, I have it in my power to obtain you this privilege. I
know Mrs. Lincoln well, and you shall make a dress for her provided you
finish mine in time to wear at dinner on Sunday."
The inducement was the best that could have been offered. I would
undertake the dress if I should have to sit up all night--every night,
to make my pledge good. I sent out and employed assistants, and, after
much worry and trouble, the dress was completed to the satisfaction of
Mrs. McClean. It appears that Mrs. Lincoln had upset a cup of coffee on
the dress she designed wearing on the evening of the reception after the
inauguration of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, which
rendered it necessary that she should have a new one for the occasion.
On asking Mrs. McClean who her dress-maker was, that lady promptly
informed her,
"Lizzie Keckley."
"Lizzie Keckley? The name is familiar to me. She used to work for some
of my lady friends in St. Louis, and they spoke well of her. Can you
recommend her to me?"
"With confidence. Shall I send her to you?"
"If you please. I shall feel under many obligations for your kindness."
The next Sunday Mrs. McClean sent me a message to call at her house at
four o'clock P.M., that day. As she did not state why I was to call, I
determined to wait till Monday morning. Monday morning came, and nine
o'clock found me at Mrs. McC.'s house. The streets of the capital were
thronged with people, for this was Inauguration day. A new President, a
man of the people from the broad prairies of the West, was to accept the
solemn oath of office, was to assume the responsibilities attached to
the high position of Chief Magistrate of the United States. Never was
such deep interest felt in the inauguration proceedings as was felt
today; for threats of assassination had been made, and every breeze from
the South came heavily laden with the rumors of war. Around Willard's
hotel swayed an excited crowd, and it was with the utmost difficulty
that I worked my way to the house on the opposite side of the street,
occupied by the McCleans. Mrs. McClean was out, but presently an aide on
General McClean's staff called, and informed me that I was wanted at
Willard's. I crossed the street, and on entering the hotel was met by
Mrs. McClean, who greeted me:
"Lizzie, why did you not come yesterday, as I requested? Mrs. Lincoln
wanted to see you, but I fear that now you are too late."
"I am sorry, Mrs. McClean. You did not say what you wanted with me
yesterday, so I judged that this morning would do as well."
"You should have come yesterday," she insisted. "Go up to Mrs. Lincoln's
room"--giving me the number--"she may find use for you yet."
With a nervous step I passed on, and knocked at Mrs. Lincoln's door. A
cheery voice bade me come in, and a lady, inclined to stoutness, about
forty years of age, stood before me.
"You are Lizzie Keckley, I believe."
I bowed assent.
"The dress-maker that Mrs. McClean recommended?"
"Yes, madam."
"Very well; I have not time to talk to you now, but would like to have
you call at the White House, at eight o'clock to-morrow morning, where I
shall then be."
I bowed myself out of the room, and returned to my apartments. The day
passed slowly, for I could not help but speculate in relation to the
appointed interview for the morrow. My long-cherished hope was about to
be realized, and I could not rest.
Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, I crossed the threshold of the White
House for the first time. I was shown into a waiting-room, and informed
that Mrs. Lincoln was at breakfast. In the waiting-room I found no less
than three mantua-makers waiting for an interview with the wife of the
new President. It seems that Mrs. Lincoln had told several of her lady
friends that she had urgent need for a dress-maker, and that each of
these friends had sent her mantua-maker to the White House. Hope fell at
once. With so many rivals for the position sought after, I regarded my
chances for success as extremely doubtful. I was the last one summoned
to Mrs. Lincoln's presence. All the others had a hearing, and were
dismissed. I went up-stairs timidly, and entering the room with nervous
step, discovered the wife of the President standing by a window, looking
out, and engaged in lively conversation with a lady, Mrs. Grimsly, as I
afterwards learned. Mrs. L. came forward, and greeted me warmly.
"You have come at last. Mrs. Keckley, who have you worked for in the
city?"
"Among others, Mrs. Senator Davis has been one of my best patrons," was
my reply.
"Mrs. Davis! So you have worked for her, have you? Of course you gave
satisfaction; so far, good. Can you do my work?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have much work for me to do?"
"That, Mrs. Keckley, will depend altogether upon your prices. I trust
that your terms are reasonable. I cannot afford to be extravagant. We
are just from the West, and are poor. If you do not charge too much, I
shall be able to give you all my work."
"I do not think there will be any difficulty about charges, Mrs.
Lincoln; my terms are reasonable."
"Well, if you will work cheap, you shall have plenty to do. I can't
afford to pay big prices, so I frankly tell you so in the beginning."
The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and I measured Mrs. Lincoln,
took the dress with me, a bright rose-colored moire-antique, and
returned the next day to fit it on her. A number of ladies were in the
room, all making preparations for the levee to come off on Friday night.
These ladies, I learned, were relatives of Mrs. L.'s,--Mrs. Edwards and
Mrs. Kellogg, her own sisters, and Elizabeth Edwards and Julia Baker,
her nieces. Mrs. Lincoln this morning was dressed in a cashmere wrapper,
quilted down the front; and she wore a simple head-dress. The other
ladies wore morning robes.
I was hard at work on the dress, when I was informed that the levee had
been postponed from Friday night till Tuesday night. This, of course,
gave me more time to complete my task. Mrs. Lincoln sent for me, and
suggested some alteration in style, which was made. She also requested
that I make a waist of blue watered silk for Mrs. Grimsly, as work on
the dress would not require all my time.
Tuesday evening came, and I had taken the last stitches on the dress. I
folded it and carried it to the White House, with the waist for Mrs.
Grimsly. When I went up-stairs, I found the ladies in a terrible state
of excitement. Mrs. Lincoln was protesting that she could not go down,
for the reason that she had nothing to wear.
"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me--deceived me. Why do you bring
my dress at this late hour?"
"Because I have just finished it, and I thought I should be in time."
"But you are not in time, Mrs. Keckley; you have bitterly disappointed
me. I have no time now to dress, and, what is more, I will not dress,
and go down-stairs."
"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Mrs. Lincoln, for I intended to
be in time. Will you let me dress you? I can have you ready in a few
minutes."
"No, I won't be dressed. I will stay in my room. Mr. Lincoln can go down
with the other ladies."
"But there is plenty of time for you to dress, Mary," joined in Mrs.
Grimsly and Mrs. Edwards. "Let Mrs. Keckley assist you, and she will
soon have you ready."
Thus urged, she consented. I dressed her hair, and arranged the dress on
her. It fitted nicely, and she was pleased. Mr. Lincoln came in, threw
himself on the sofa, laughed with Willie and little Tad, and then
commenced pulling on his gloves, quoting poetry all the while.
"You seem to be in a poetical mood to-night," said his wife.
"Yes, mother, these are poetical times," was his pleasant reply. "I
declare, you look charming in that dress. Mrs. Keckley has met with
great success." And then he proceeded to compliment the other ladies.
Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moire-antique. She wore
a pearl necklace, pearl ear-rings, pearl bracelets, and red roses in her
hair. Mrs. Baker was dressed in lemon-colored silk; Mrs. Kellogg in a
drab silk, ashes of rose; Mrs. Edwards in a brown and black silk; Miss
Edwards in crimson, and Mrs. Grimsly in blue watered silk. Just before
starting downstairs, Mrs. Lincoln's lace handkerchief was the object of
search. It had been displaced by Tad, who was mischievous, and hard to
restrain. The handkerchief found, all became serene. Mrs. Lincoln took
the President's arm, and with smiling face led the train below. I was
surprised at her grace and composure. I had heard so much, in current
and malicious report, of her low life, of her ignorance and vulgarity,
that I expected to see her embarrassed on this occasion. Report, I soon
saw, was wrong. No queen, accustomed to the usages of royalty all her
life, could have comported herself with more calmness and dignity than
did the wife of the President. She was confident and self-possessed, and
confidence always gives grace.
This levee was a brilliant one, and the only one of the season. I became
the regular modiste of Mrs. Lincoln. I made fifteen or sixteen dresses
for her during the spring and early part of the summer, when she left
Washington; spending the hot weather at Saratoga, Long Branch, and other
places. In the mean time I was employed by Mrs. Senator Douglas, one of
the loveliest ladies that I ever met, Mrs. Secretary Wells, Mrs.
Secretary Stanton, and others. Mrs. Douglas always dressed in deep
mourning, with excellent taste, and several of the leading ladies of
Washington society were extremely jealous of her superior attractions.