Mobile, Ala., May 17, 1865.
My Dear Wife:
We have news this morning that Jeff Davis has been arrested
and sent to Washington under guard. It remains to be seen if Johnson has the
grit to put him through, or if he is not made a lion and a martyr of, and
permitted to go scot free.
I have been for a few days past, and still am, a very
favored guest of Madame Octavia Walton LeVert, who has been more kind to me
than words can tell. She has been friend, mother, most delightful companion to
me. A very noble woman, she fully deserves the splendid encomiums that have
been so freely lavished upon her at home and abroad. I have forgotten if before
I have alluded to her history, that, perhaps, you are familiar with; even if
such is the case, it will do no harm to again advert more particularly to your
husband's friend. I have been somewhat of an invalid, and she has nursed me,
and been so sweetly kind to me, that I can hardly write too much about her. So
I shall make no excuse for quoting very freely from a graceful biographical sketch
of her history by Mary Forrest, who edited the
Women of the South, among
whom she ranks her as prima donna. Frederica Bremer calls her the “sweet rose
of Florida,” and she certainly is a rose that all are praising. George Walton,
her grandfather, was one of the signers of
the
Declaration of Independence, was wounded at the head of his regiment at the
siege of Savannah, was a member of Congress (the first convened at
Philadelphia), and afterwards held successively the offices of Governor of
Georgia and Judge of the Supreme Court. He married Miss Camber, the daughter of
an English nobleman, a short time before the Revolution. Madame LeVert has now
in her possession many letters addressed to Colonel Walton by General
Washington, Lafayette, the elder Adams, Jefferson, and other noted men of those
days, expressive of their high confidence and regard.
George Walton, the second, married Miss Sally Walker, the
daughter of an eminent lawyer of Georgia. In 1812, he became a member of the
legislature of Georgia. In 1821, he was appointed Secretary of State under
General Jackson, then Governor of Florida, and, when the old chief retired to
the '”Hermitage,” succeeded him in office. He was himself succeeded by our old
friend of Washington memory, Governor Duval . . . whom you doubtless remember.
Here I may be permitted to say, par parenthese, that as a high
compliment and one accorded to but few guests, I have been assigned to what was
the private chamber of Mrs. Walton, and have been sleeping upon a bed and
bedstead upon which General Jackson slept for years, and which, as a precious
relic, was presented to Mrs. Walton by General Jackson while he was President.
Octavia Walton was born at Bellevue, near Augusta, Georgia,
but her parents, moving soon after to Florida, her first memories are of the
sunshine and flowers of Pensacola, in her own vivid words “of the orange and
live-oak trees, shading the broad veranda; of the fragrant acacia, oleander,
and Cape jasmine trees, which filled the parterre sloping down to the sea beach;
of merry races with my brother along the white sands, while the creamy waves
broke over my feet and the delicious breeze from the gulf played in my hair,
and of the pet mocking-birds in the giant old oak by my window, whose songs
called me each morning from dreamland.”
I quote now from my authoress. Pensacola, situated on a
noble bay, was the rendezvous of the United States vessels of the Gulf Station.
It was a gala time when they returned from their cruises; balls and parties at
the governor's house; splendid entertainments on board the ships; moonlight excursions
upon the bay, and picnics in the magnolia groves. The well-educated and
chivalric officers were a large element in the society to which our author was
thus early accustomed; and while yet a child she had little to learn in the way
of drawing-room ease and elegance.
Amid such scenes her receptive nature seems to have absorbed
that tropical exuberance of thought, feeling, language, and presence, which has
made her name famous; while at the same time, an early and close relation with
nature, in one of her most tender and bounteous aspects, preserved intact amid
all precocious tendencies, the naive simplicity of the child, which is
to this day her crowning grace.
Before the age of twelve years, she could write and converse
in three languages with facility. So unusual was her talent as a linguist, that
it was the custom of her father to take her to his office to translate from the
French or Spanish the most important letters connected with affairs of state.
There, perched upon a high stool, (she was too tiny in stature to be made
available otherwise), she would interpret with the greatest ease and
correctness, the tenor and spirit of foreign despatches, proving herself thus
early, quite worthy of her illustrious descent.
During her father's administration as Governor of Florida,
he located the seat of government, and, at the request of his little daughter
Octavia, called it by the Indian name of “Tallahassee.” Its signification, “beautiful
land,” fell musically upon the ear of the imaginative child; she was greatly
interested, too, in the old Seminole King Mamashla, who, in the days of his
power, struck his tent-pole in that ground, made it his resting-place, and
called it first by this sweet name. The chief grew fond of her, and she was
known in his tribe as “the White Dove of Peace.”
Octavia was never placed within the walls of a schoolroom.
Her mother and grandmother, both women of intellect and cultivation, vied with
each other in developing her earlier mental life, and private tutors were
provided to meet the needs of her advance.
When she first was presented to General Lafayette, a long
and interesting interview ensued; the young Octavia, seated upon the knee of
the old hero, holding him spellbound with her piquant and fluent use of his
native tongue. He then folded her to his heart, and blessed her fervently,
remarking to one of the committee, as she left the room, a “truly wonderful
child, she has been conversing all this while, with intellect and tact, in the
purest French. I predict for her a brilliant career.” Oracular words, which the
record of years have more than confirmed. But Octavia Walton did not sit
passively down to await the fulfillment of Lafayette's prophecy. One great
secret of her life lies in her indefatigable industry. Only by close
application has she taken the true gauge of herself; brought into view every
resource; into play every faculty; only thus has she become acquainted with
classical and scientific studies, made herself mistress of many languages, a
proficient in music, an eloquent conversationalist, and a ready writer; and by
a no less fine and careful culture, has she been able in every phase of her
life to evolve only light and warmth from her large human heart; to bring to
the surface the best qualities of all who come within her influence; to charm
away distraction, and to preserve, apart from her world woman aspect a child
nature as pure and undimmed as a pearl in the sea.
. . . In 1836 she married Dr. Henry Le Vert of Mobile, a man
noted equally for his professional skill and high moral worth. His father was a
native of France, and came to America with Lafayette. . . . Frederica Bremer says of her:
“It is so strange that that little
worldly lady, whom I have heard spoken of as a belle, and as a most splendid
ornament of society, wherever she went, has yet become almost as dear to me as
a young sister. But she has become so from being so excellent, because she has
suffered much, and because, under a worldly exterior, there is an unusually
sound and pure intellect, and a heart full of affection, which can cast aside
all the vanities of the world for the power of gratifying those whom she loves.
This fair daughter of Florida, is surrounded by a circle of relatives who seem
to regard her as the apple of their eye,” etc.
What I have hastily written and more hastily selected, may
serve to give you some faint idea of this most charming lady. It is a good
thing to have a sensible, well-educated sweet woman for one's friend, and I
thank God, who has vouchsafed to me one or two such in the course of my
pilgrimage.
I enclose a sketch of my friend Ransom, of whom I have
written and spoken to you. I fear I weary you with long letters. I shall return
to Fort Gaines to-morrow or next day. I am not very well. That terrible
diarrhoea hangs on and will not give me rest. I shall never recover from that
disease, which will only be temporarily palliated or relieved, and I shall pray
to God to let me die at home.
SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of
Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 397-401
