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:

Ever since arriving in Washington, I had wanted very much to work for the ladies of the White House. To achieve this, I was ready to make almost any sacrifice that propriety allowed. Work came in slowly, and I was beginning to feel very anxious. I did not know how I would pay the bills staring me in the face. The bills were small, but they were daunting to me because I had little or nothing to pay them with. While I was in this situation, I called at the Ringolds’ home, where I met Mrs. Captain Lee. Mrs. Lee was nearly beside herself with excitement. The great event of the season, a dinner party honoring the Prince of Wales, would soon take place. She needed a dress suitable for the occasion. She had bought the silk, but had not yet found a dressmaker. 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. He handed me a roll of banknotes totaling one hundred dollars. He asked me to buy the trimmings and spare no expense in choosing them. With the money in my pocket, I went out and entered the store of Harper & Mitchell. I asked to see their laces. Mr. Harper waited on me himself and was polite and kind. I asked permission to take the laces to Mrs. Lee to see whether she approved of my selection. He readily agreed. I reminded him that I was a stranger and that the goods were valuable. He replied that he was not afraid to trust me. He believed my face showed that I had an honest heart. It was pleasant to hear such words, and I shall never forget Mr. Harper’s kindness. I often recall his words because they are associated with the dawn of a brighter period in my dark life. I bought the trimmings, and Mr. Harper gave me a commission of twenty-five dollars on the purchase. The dress was finished on time, and it gave complete satisfaction. Mrs. Lee attracted great attention at the dinner party, and her elegant dress proved excellent advertising for me. I received numerous orders and was relieved of all my financial troubles. One of my patrons was Mrs. Gen. McClean, a daughter of Gen. Sumner. One day, when I was very busy, Mrs. McClean drove up to my apartments. She came in where I was sewing and said in her emphatic way:

"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."

"Lizzie, I've been invited to dinner at Willard's next Sunday, and I really don't have a dress fit to wear. I've just bought the material, and you must start working 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."

"But Mrs. McClean," I replied, "I've already promised to do more work than I can manage. I can't make a dress for you to wear next Sunday."

"Pshaw! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday;" and she spoke with some impatience.

“Come on! Nothing is impossible. I must have the dress made by Sunday,” she said impatiently.

"I am sorry," I began, but she interrupted me.

"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."

"Now, don't say no again. I'm telling you, you must make the dress. I've often heard you say you'd like to work for the ladies of the White House. Well, I can give you that opportunity. I know Mrs. Lincoln well, and you can make a dress for her if you finish mine in time for me to wear it to 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,

The incentive was the best anyone could have offered. I would make the dress, even if I had to stay up all night, every night, to keep my promise. I sent for and hired assistants. After much worry and trouble, the dress was finished to Mrs. McClean's satisfaction. It seems that Mrs. Lincoln had spilled a cup of coffee on the dress she planned to wear to the reception after Abraham Lincoln's inauguration as President of the United States. So she needed a new dress for the occasion. When she asked Mrs. McClean who her dressmaker was, Mrs. McClean promptly told her,

"Lizzie Keckley."

"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?"

"Lizzie Keckley? That name sounds familiar. She used to work for some of my women friends in St. Louis, and they spoke well of her. Would you recommend her to me?"

"With confidence. Shall I send her to you?"

"Certainly. Should I send her to you?"

"If you please. I shall feel under many obligations for your kindness."

"If you please. I would be very grateful 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:

The next Sunday, Mrs. McClean sent me a message asking me to visit her at four that afternoon. She did not say why, so I decided to wait until Monday morning. At nine on Monday morning, I arrived at Mrs. McClean's house. The streets of the capital were crowded with people, for it was Inauguration Day. A new President, a man of the people from the vast prairies of the West, was to take the solemn oath of office. He was to assume the responsibilities of the high office of Chief Magistrate of the United States. Never had there been such intense interest in an inauguration. Threats had been made against the President's life, and every breeze from the South seemed heavy with rumors of war. An excited crowd surged around Willard's hotel. With the greatest difficulty, I made my way to the McCleans' house across the street. Mrs. McClean was out, but soon an aide on General McClean's staff came by. He told me that I was wanted at Willard's. I crossed the street and entered the hotel. There I met 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."

"Lizzie, why didn't you come yesterday, as I asked? Mrs. Lincoln wanted to see you, but I'm afraid you're too late now."

"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."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McClean. You didn't say what you wanted with me yesterday, so I thought this morning would be just as good."

"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."

"You should have come yesterday," she insisted. "Go up to Mrs. Lincoln's room." She gave me the room number. "She may still have work for you."

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.

Nervously, I walked on and knocked at Mrs. Lincoln's door. A cheerful voice told me to come in. Before me stood a woman about forty years old, somewhat stout.

"You are Lizzie Keckley, I believe."

"You're Lizzie Keckley, I believe."

I bowed assent.

I bowed in agreement.

"The dress-maker that Mrs. McClean recommended?"

"The dressmaker Mrs. McClean recommended?"

"Yes, madam."

"Yes, ma'am."

"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."

"Very well. I don't have time to talk to you now, but please come to the White House tomorrow at eight in the morning. I'll be there then."

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.

I bowed as I left the room and returned to my rooms. The day passed slowly because I could not stop wondering about the meeting set for the next day. A hope I had held for a long time was about to come true, 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.

Tuesday morning, at eight o'clock, I entered the White House for the first time. I was shown into a waiting room and told that Mrs. Lincoln was at breakfast. There I found no fewer than three dressmakers waiting to meet the new President's wife. It seemed that Mrs. Lincoln had told several of her friends that she urgently needed a dressmaker. Each friend had sent her own dressmaker to the White House. My hopes fell at once. With so many rivals for the position, I thought my chances of success were extremely doubtful. I was the last one called in to see Mrs. Lincoln. All the others had been heard and dismissed. I went upstairs timidly and entered the room with a nervous step. The President's wife stood by a window, looking out and talking animatedly with a lady. I later learned that the lady was Mrs. Grimsly. Mrs. Lincoln came forward and greeted me warmly.

"You have come at last. Mrs. Keckley, who have you worked for in the city?"

"You've finally come. 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.

"Among others, Mrs. Senator Davis has been one of my best customers," I replied.

"Mrs. Davis! So you have worked for her, have you? Of course you gave satisfaction; so far, good. Can you do my work?"

"Mrs. Davis! So you worked for her? Of course you did a good job. So far, so good. Can you do my work?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have much work for me to do?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lincoln. Will you have a lot of 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."

"That depends entirely on your prices, Mrs. Keckley. I hope your rates are reasonable. I can't afford to spend too much. We have just come from the West, and we are poor. If you don't charge too much, I can give you all my work."

"I do not think there will be any difficulty about charges, Mrs. Lincoln; my terms are reasonable."

"I don't think there will be any problem with the charges, Mrs. Lincoln. My rates 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."

"Well, if you work for low pay, you'll have plenty to do. I can't afford to pay high prices, so I'm telling you frankly from the start."

The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and I measured Mrs. Lincoln, took the dress with me, a bright rose-colored moiré-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.

We agreed on the terms, and I took Mrs. Lincoln’s measurements. I took the dress with me. It was made of bright rose-colored moiré-antique. I returned the next day to fit it on her. Several ladies were in the room, all preparing for the reception on Friday night. I learned that they were Mrs. Lincoln’s relatives. Mrs. Edwards and Mrs. Kellogg were her sisters, and Elizabeth Edwards and Julia Baker were her nieces. That morning, Mrs. Lincoln wore a cashmere robe quilted down the front and a simple head covering. 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.

I was hard at work on the dress when I learned that the levee had been postponed from Friday night to Tuesday night. This, of course, gave me more time to finish the dress. Mrs. Lincoln sent for me and suggested a change to the style, which I made. She also asked me to make a bodice of blue watered silk for Mrs. Grimsly, since the dress would not take 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.

Tuesday evening came, and I had finished the last stitches on the dress. I folded it and carried it to the White House, along with Mrs. Grimsly’s bodice. When I went upstairs, I found the ladies terribly excited. Mrs. Lincoln insisted that she could not go downstairs because she had nothing to wear.

"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me—deceived me. Why do you bring my dress at this late hour?"

"Mrs. Keckley, you have disappointed me. You have deceived me. Why are you bringing my dress so late?"

"Because I have just finished it, and I thought I should be in time."

"Because I just finished it, and I thought I would 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."

"But you are late, Mrs. Keckley. You have bitterly disappointed me. I have no time to dress now. What’s more, I will not dress and go downstairs."

"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."

"I'm sorry if I disappointed you, Mrs. Lincoln. I meant to be on 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."

"No, I won't get dressed. I'll stay in my room. Mr. Lincoln can go downstairs 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."

"But there's plenty of time for you to get dressed, Mary," Mrs. Grimsly and Mrs. Edwards added. "Let Mrs. Keckley help you, and she'll have you ready soon."

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.

After some urging, she agreed. I styled her hair and helped her into the dress. It fit nicely, and she was pleased. Mr. Lincoln came in, threw himself on the sofa, and laughed with Willie and little Tad. Then he began pulling on his gloves, quoting poetry all the while.

"You seem to be in a poetical mood to-night," said his wife.

"You seem to be in a poetic mood tonight," 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.

"Yes, mother, these are poetic times," he replied pleasantly. "I must say, you look charming in that dress. Mrs. Keckley has done a wonderful job." Then he complimented the other ladies.

Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moiré-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.

Mrs. Lincoln looked elegant in her rose-colored moiré-antique dress. She wore a pearl necklace, earrings, and bracelets, with red roses in her hair. Mrs. Baker wore lemon-colored silk. Mrs. Kellogg wore a drab silk in an ash-of-rose shade. Mrs. Edwards wore brown and black silk, Miss Edwards wore crimson, and Mrs. Grimsly wore blue watered silk. Just before they went downstairs, everyone searched for Mrs. Lincoln's lace handkerchief. Tad had moved it. He was mischievous and hard to restrain. Once the handkerchief was found, everyone was calm again. Mrs. Lincoln took the President's arm and led the group downstairs with a smile. I was surprised by her grace and composure. I had heard so many malicious rumors about her lowly background, her ignorance, and her vulgarity. I expected her to be embarrassed on this occasion. I soon saw that the rumors were wrong. No queen, accustomed to royal customs all her life, could have behaved with more calm and dignity than the President's wife. 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.

This reception was a brilliant one, and the only one of the season. I became Mrs. Lincoln’s regular dressmaker. I made fifteen or sixteen dresses for her during the spring and early summer. She then left Washington and spent the hot weather at Saratoga, Long Branch, and other places. Meanwhile, I was employed by Mrs. Senator Douglas, one of the loveliest ladies I ever met. I also worked for Mrs. Secretary Wells, Mrs. Secretary Stanton, and others. Mrs. Douglas always wore deep mourning and dressed with excellent taste. Several leading ladies of Washington society were extremely jealous of her superior beauty.