It was through a
singular dream I had that I came to Richmond in time to be with Mr. Tyler
during all his illness, which ended with his death, January 18, 1862. He had
gone on before, in his usual health, and I was to follow with the baby, Pearl,
for a stay of a few weeks, after visiting my friends at Brandon and Shirley on
the river, which I intended should consume at least a week; but I awoke the
morning I had proposed to leave with a troublesome dream. I thought I had risen
to dress, but on looking back to the bed, observed Mr. Tyler lying there,
looking pale and ill. I remarked it to Nancy, the maidservant, who had come in
to assist me in dressing. It seemed he heard me speak, and said: "Are you
awake, darling; come and hold my head." My feelings were so sad that he
should have waited until I awoke before telling me he felt ill, that I really
awoke, much distressed, and as I did so, Nancy entered the room, and warned me
it was time to dress for the boat. I surprised her by saying that I intended
going right on to Richmond, without stopping anywhere on the river, and
narrated my dream. She knew I had looked forward with pleasure to making the
visits to my friends, and begged I would not be influenced by my dream, saying:
"You know, mistress, dreams always go by contraries;" but none of the
family could dissuade me from going direct to Richmond; and so, with old nurse,
Fanny, and the baby, I arrived at the Exchange Hotel on Friday, January 10th,
after dark, and entirely unexpected. On alighting from the carriage, I was
recognized by Col. Edward C. Cabell, who assisted me. My first enquiry was in
regard to the President, and my anxiety was allayed on hearing he was quite
well. He said I was taking my husband by surprise, as he had just left his
room, and heard from him that I would not be in Richmond for some time. He
proposed to go in search of him, as they had left his room together, and had
parted at the reading-room. I knew the location of his room, and said we would
await him there. In a few moments I heard his hurried steps on the bridge,
which, you know, joins the Exchange to the Ballard House. The baby clapped her
little hands on seeing him. As he took her from the nurse he said, gleefully,
"I really believe she knows me"—he had been away from her two or
three weeks; and then he wanted to know what all this change in my plans, since
my letter of the day before, meant. I told the dream, which quite amused him.
The next day, the parlor was filled with our visitors, and all were remarking
on the health and cheerfulness of the President. Mr. Boulware said to him,
"how becoming is your new suit!" The President laughed heartily, and
replied, "I wear it in honor of my wife's arrival; but I had always
thought until now that there was no use in my having a new suit of clothes, for
no one ever noticed it." That night (Saturday) I awoke in the night
suffering from headache. The President placed his hand on my head, and said
"your forehead is so cold; shan't I send for the doctor? You see your
dream is out; it is your head that I am
holding, and not you mine." I asked for morphine. He arose, weighed some,
and gave it to me, and very soon I was entirely relieved. The next morning when
I awoke, quite early, I observed him standing before the fire nearly dressed.
Then he said, "your dream now is out, for I believe I have had a chill,
and I have determined to go down to the breakfast table and take a cup of hot
tea." I begged he would have it sent for, and lie down again; but he
preferred to go for it, and so I, not thinking his illness was serious,
remained where I was, to sleep off the effects of the morphine. I was aroused
by the entrance of the President returning, and alarmed to see him with collar
open, and cravat in hand. He exclaimed, "I would not have had it happen
for a great deal; it will be all around the town!" and then went on to
tell me he had risen to leave the table, staggered and fell. He was lifted and
carried to the parlor, where, lying on the sofa, he recovered consciousness,
and then insisted upon coming alone to his room, lest I should be alarmed. His
friends began surging into the room before I could rise to attend him. They
were very solicitous, and extended him on the sofa; but he assured them he
was better, and would send for his doctor, and then he could not help relating
my dream, saying, "her dream is a true one, and I leave my wife and her
children to God and my country." The gentlemen left the room, expressing
wishes soon to hear from him, and to be of service. Dr. Peachy arrived, and
pronounced his case a billious attack, united with bronchitis, as he was soon
troubled with a cough. He did not take to his bed entirely, and desired to
receive and converse with the friends who called upon him; but as his symptoms
did not improve, and he had much headache, his physician insisted he should go
home and have perfect quiet for a few days, for his mind was constantly
exercised over the situation of the country, and he could talk of little else,
except to express such tender love and anxiety for his family. How I will
treasure all his loving expressions! The doctor gave him a morphine mixture for
his cough, which soothed it, but caused him to make wandering remarks when half
asleep.
Mr. Rives had an
interview with him on Thursday (the 16th) in regard to his son residing in New
York, whose property he feared might be in danger of confiscation. He took
occasion to request that Mr. Rives would ask the permission of Congress to his
absence for a few days, according to the wish of his physician. He was always
so scrupulous in his obedience to rules. He said we would go to Sherwood on
Saturday; but alas! on Friday night, just after he had retired to bed,
expressing the hope that he was better, and would have a good sleep, and had
slept for an hour, he suddenly awoke with a feeling of suffocation, which
immediately aroused me. Robert Tyler, who had determined to spend the night,
and be of any assistance if needed, and had arranged himself to sleep upon the
sofa, hastened for Dr. Brown, whose room was upon the same floor. By my side of
the bed was a cot for the baby. He threw himself across to it in his
restlessness, which awoke the child, who whimpered a little. He raised himself
up, saying: "Poor little thing, how I disturb her," and laid back on
his pillow. I bathed his head and chest with spirits, while the nurse hushed
the little one. He asked to have her brought to him that he might kiss her. Dr.
Brown came in without delay, and prescribed mustard plasters and brandy. The
President said: "Doctor, I think you are mistaken," but took the
stimulant. Dr. Peachy entered, to whom he said: "Doctor, I am going."
Dr. Peachy answered: "I hope not, sir." The President added: "Perhaps
it is best," (his last words). I held again the stimulant to his lips; his
teeth chattered on the glass; he looked forward with a radiant expression, as
if he saw something to surprise and please, and then, as if falling asleep, was
gone! The bedstead on which he died was exactly like the one I saw him upon in
my dream, and unlike any of our own.
"So passed the
strong, heroic soul away.”
