The Ladies of the White House; Or, in the Home of the Presidents: Being a Complete History of the Social and Domestic Lives of the Presidents from Washington to the Present Time—1789–1881Holloway, Laura C. (Laura Carter)
History
The Ladies of the White House; Or, in the Home of the Presidents: Being a Complete History of the Social and Domestic Lives of the Presidents from Washington to the Present Time—1789–1881
Holloway, Laura C. (Laura Carter)
Presidents -- United States -- Biography; Presidents' spouses -- United States -- Biography
“All our efforts for her restoration were vain and fruitless. No blood
could be obtained either from the arm or the temporal artery.
Sensibility had ceased, life had departed; and her meek and quiet spirit
sought that rest with her God and her Redeemer, which a cruel world
refused to grant.
“From a careful review of the case, there seems to be no doubt but that
there was a sudden reflux of the blood from the surface and the
extremities, upon the heart and other organs, producing an engorgement
and consequent spasm of that important viscus. That her death is to be
attributed to this cause, rather than to an effusion of the brain, seems
to be inferable from the fact of the total and instantaneous cessation
of the functions of the heart. Not a pulsation could be perceived; her
lungs labored a minute or two, and then ceased.
“How shall I describe the agony—the heart-rending agony—of the venerable
partner of her bosom? He had, in compliance with our earnest entreaties,
seconded by those of his wife, left her chamber, which he could seldom
be persuaded to do, and had lain down in an adjoining room, to seek
repose for his harassed mind and body. A few minutes only had elapsed,
when we were hastily summoned to her chamber; and the General, in a
moment, followed us. But he was only in time to witness the last
convulsive effort of expiring nature. Then it was that all the feelings
of the devoted husband burst forth. His breast heaved, and his soul
seemed to struggle with a load too oppressive for frail humanity. Nor
was he the only mourner on this melancholy occasion. A numerous train of
domestics crowded around the bed of their beloved mistress, and filled
the room with their piercing cries. They could not bring their minds to
a belief of the painful reality that their mistress and friend, for such
indeed she was, lay before them a lifeless corpse. ‘Oh! is there no
hope?’ was their agonizing question; and vainly would they flatter
themselves with the belief, that perhaps ‘she was only fainting.’
“The distressing event spread with the rapidity of the wind; and
neighbors and relatives thronged the house from midnight until late the
following morning. Soon the painful tidings reached Nashville, twelve
miles distant, and a fresh concourse of friends pressed forward to show
their respect for the dead and to mourn with the living.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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