Page:The New England magazine (IA newenglandmagazi1891bost).pdf/394

honors. But notwithstanding the change in her circumstances, and the broader life opening before her, she still clung to the cottage of her childhood. For some years after the marriage, they continued to reside beneath its humble roof; then the new proprietor proceeded to erect the stately mansion only a few yards away, which still bears his name, and in its forlorn grandeur forms one of the most unique landmarks of old Washington. It is said that at the time of its erection it was the most expensive private mansion in the United States. It was designed and built by the famous architect Latrobe, at a cost of $60,000, and here for many years its owner dispensed a hospitality, the fame of which has come down to the present day. The wine vaults in its buse ment were something wonderful for that time, and were destined more than a half century later to become strangely in volved with the history of the world's greatest tragedy.

When President Lincoln was assassinated, a wild rumor was started that it had been the original intention of the conspirators to abduct the president, and conceal him within the strong walls of these vaults until he could be carried farther. There was not a scintilla of foundation for the story, but in the excitement of that supreme hour of the outraged nation's anguish the authorities did not stop for proof, but forthwith arrested the gentleman then owning the property, and incarcerated him, together with his wife, in the old Capitol prison.

One of the loveliest traits in the gentle heart of Marcia Van Ness is revealed in the fact that during all the years of her reign in the stately mansion reared by her husband, she never forgot or neglected the lowly cottage of her father. The moss gathered thicker upon the roof, but threshold and hearthstone were as carefully and tenderly kept as they had ever been in the days of her girlhood. And when, after a few short years, the hand of affliction was laid upon her, in the death of her only daughter, the stricken heart seemed to turn with increased affection to the hallowed spot. One of its most secluded apartments was set apart,—a place for solitude and meditation,—of communion with the God to whose service her pure life was dedicated.

It was in 1820, just eighteen years after her own marriage, that this daughter returned from attending school in Philadelphia, and it may well be supposed that her return was an additional attraction to the brilliant and fashionable circles wont to gather in the Van Ness salon. The relationship between mother and daughter was of the most tender description; they were companions and friends in the fullets and truest sense of those sacred words.

But the sweet companionship of mother and daughter was of short duration. Within a year from her return from school, the latter was given in marriage to Arthur Middleton of South Carolina, and within another short year she became the bride of death. She and her babe, the grandchild and great grandchild of "crusty David," were laid in the same grave. And in that tomb was laid the heart of Marcia Van Ness. Thenceforth, though she walked in this world, her life was not of it. Deprived of her own child, her heart went out to the children of others to the orphans of the city which had grown upon her father's ancestral acres. In memory of the daughter cut down in the bloom of her youth, she founded and nurtured the Orphan Asylum of Washington. Her portrait may be seen there to-day,—a picture with a sweet sad face, and a little child's head nestling in her lap.

In ten years, she followed her daughter, dying in 1832, at the age of fifty years. It has been said that she was the first American woman buried with public honors. Her husband was mayor of the city at the time of her death, and before the funeral a delegation of citizens placed upon the coffin a silver plate bearing the following inscription:

"The citizens of Washington, in testimony of their veneration for departed worth, dedicate this plate to the memory of Marcia Van Ness, the excellent consort of J. P. Van Ness. If piety, high principles, and exalted worth could have arrested the shafts of fate, she would still have remained among us, a bright example of every virtue. The hand of death has removed her to a purer and happier state of existence, and while we lament her loss, let us endeavor to emulate her virtues."

She was laid in rest beside her child