An American Wedding Journey in 1825

Being the story of the marriage of Eleanora Wayles Randolph, granddaughter of Thomas Jefferson, and her wedding journey from Monticello to Boston, as gathered from letters in the possession of her descendants and for the most part hitherto unpublished

BY HAROLD JEFFERSON COOLIDGE

THOMAS JEFFERSON finished his second term as President in 1809, and retired to Monticello, where he spent the remaining seventeen years of his life busily engaged in developing his estates, carrying on a continuing, voluminous correspondence with friends and political acquaintances in every part of the world, exercising a hospitality to all comers which has become proverbial and which markedly increased the financial embarrassments that clouded his last years, and giving unsparingly all the while labor and thought to the conception, construction, and inauguration of the University of Virginia, which in his own opinion was the most notable achievement of his long and active life.

During his later years his daughter Martha, who had married Colonel Thomas Mann Randolph of Edgehill (Governor of Virginia, 1817—1822), made her home with him, Jefferson himself being then a widower. Things had not gone well between Colonel Randolph and his wife, and she was obliged to raise her large family of ten children under the roof of her father at Monticello. Jefferson took the greatest personal interest in the education and welfare of these grandchildren, and they looked upon him more in the light of a father than a grandfather. This was particularly true of his granddaughter Eleanora Wayles Randolph, afterwards always called by her family Ellen, who was born in 1796 and was therefore thirteen years old when Jefferson came back to Monticello to live. From that time until her marriage in 1825 she lived constantly with him, accompanying him on his trips to Poplar Forest and Natural Bridge, and she seems to have been to a great extent his intellectual companion, as well as a much-loved and favorite granddaughter. In fact her correspondence all through a long life suggests in its style the clarity of thought — with perhaps a tendency to long-windedness — of her grandfather, and gives a clear indication of the marked influence which he had in forming her character.

There is no record of when Ellen Randolph first met a young man named Joseph Coolidge, of Boston, who came of a family sufficiently well known in his native town. He was born in 1798, and graduated from Harvard in the class of 1817. He had had the advantage — unusual in those days — of having traveled extensively in Europe, where, thanks to his introductions, he had met a large number of distinguished men, with several of whom he had become friendly — among others, Lord Byron, who mentions him in his correspondence. Mr. Coolidge was two years younger than Ellen, and, so far as can be judged by their appearance in later years, they must have both been very handsome.

Jefferson, who acted as a sort of guardian to Ellen, appears to have received most cordially this young man’s intimation that he wished to marry her, as may be gathered from the following letter: —

To JOSEPH COOLIDGE, JR., ESQ.,

BOSTON

MONTICELLO, Oct. 24, ’24
DEAR SIR:
I should not have delayed a single day the answer to your interesting and acceptable letter of the 13th inst. but that it found me suffering severely under an imposthume formed under the jaw, and closing it so effectually as to render the introduction of sustenance into the mouth impossible, but in a fluid form, and that latterly sucked thro’ a tube. After 2 or 3 weeks of sufferance, and a total prostration of strength, I have been relieved by a discharge of the matter, and am now on the recovery; and I avail myself of the first moment of my ability to take up a pen, to assure you that nothing could be more welcome to me than the visit proposed in your Ire, or its object. During the stay you were so kind as to make with us, my opportunities were abundant of seeing and estimating the merit of your character, insomuch as to need no further enquiry from others. Nor did the family leave me uninformed of the attachment which seemed to be forming towards my granddaughter Ellen. I learnt it with pleasure, because, from what I believed of yours, and knew of her extraordinary moral qualifications, I was satisfied no two minds could be formed, better compounded to make each other happy. I hold the same sentiment now that I receive the information from yourself, and assure you that no union could give to me greater satisfaction, if your wishes prove mutual, and your friends consenting. What provision for a competent subsistence for you might exist, or be practicable, was a consideration for both parties. I knew that the circumstances of her father, Gov. Randolph, offered little prospect from his resources, prostrated, as they have been by too much facility in engagements for others. Some suffering of the same kind myself, and of sensible amount, with debts of my own, remove to a distance anything I could do, and certainly should do for you. My property is such as that after a discharge of these incumbrances, a comfortable provision will remain for my unprovided grandchildren.
This state of things on our part leaves us nothing to propose for the present, but to submit the course to be pursued entirely to your own discretion and the will of your friends; under the general assurance that whenever circumstances enable me to do anything, it will be directed by justice to the other members of my family, a special affection to this peculiarly valued granddaughter, and a cordial attachment to yourself. Your visit to Monticello, and at the time of your own convenience, will be truly welcome, and your stay, whatever may suit yourself under any views of friendship or connection. My gratification will be measured by the time of its continuance. . . .
I expect, in the course of the 1st or 2d week of the approaching month, to receive here the visit of my antient friend Gen’l La Fayette. The delirium which his visit has excited to the North envelopes him in the South also. The humble village of Charlottesville, or rather the County of Albemarle, of which it is the seat of justice, will exhibit its great, affections, and unpretending means, in a dinner to be given to the General in the buildings of the University, to which they have given accepted invitations to Mr. Madison also, and myself as guests, and at which your presence as my guest would give high pleasure to us all, and to none, I assure you, more cordially than to your sincerely attached friend
TH. JEFFERSON

On May 27, 1825, Joseph Coolidge and Ellen Randolph were married in the drawing-room at Monticello. Family tradition has it that the best man, Mr. Harrison Ritchie, who had come down from Boston with Mr. Coolidge and was staying with other guests at the house, had gone out for a morning fox hunt with several others on the day when the circuit preacher, who had been counted on to perform the ceremony, arrived most unexpectedly, saying that he had but a few hours to spare. The wedding, therefore, took place immediately, regardless of the absence of the best man and several of the company, who had been waiting days for the preacher to arrive. However this may be, Albemarle County, Virginia, must have been looking its loveliest in the latter part of May, and the wonderful situation of Monticello — a fine, simple brick house literally on the top of a ‘little mountain,’ with a superb view of the Blue Ridge on its westerly side and the Rivanna winding around its base — offered a very beautiful setting for a wedding of great interest, not only to the whole neighborhood, but to a large number of people throughout the entire country.
The Journey: Monticello to New York A series of letters to and from the young couple as they traveled northward gives some idea of the conditions of the time in our northeastern states as they appeared to them on their extended wedding trip. The journey took about six weeks, starting at Monticello and ending at the house of Mr. Coolidge’s parents in Bowdoin Square, Boston. They appear to have stopped at Montpelier, the home of Jefferson’s lifelong friend and supporter, James Madison, and from there to have made their real start by way of Fredericksburg, — incidentally losing their baggage en route, — Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia to New York, where they met General La Fayette, then almost seventy years old, on his way to make his famous last visit to Jefferson at Monticello. From Fredericksburg we have what might well be called a joint letter written to Mrs. Randolph, which tells its own story of the joys and drawbacks of a honeymoon trip in those days: —

To MRS. RANDOLPH, MONTICELLO, CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA.

I have ruined the sheet on which Ellen has been writing; and the day is so warm and her black ‘Isaacs’ so uncomfortable, that she has gone to lie down awhile, and has left me, a poor substitute, to continue her letter; — before doing so, I will transcribe what she had written.

FREDERICKSBURG, June 25, '25
Contrary to my expectations, my dearest mother, I am enabled to write to you from this place by the accident of being delayed a day. We were so late in getting from Mrs. Madison that it was past eight before we could leave Orange Court House; still as the roads were good, and the hack had four horses, we might surely have reached Fredericksburg by six, which would have left us full time to go on to the steamboat; but the driver was so tender of his cattle, that neither threat, nor entreaty, would prevail on him to move out of a slow ox-trot, which got us on at the rate of three miles an hour, or scarcely so much. Cornelius and his mule cart travel with the speed of light in comparison to the Fredericksburg hack with four horses, and the kind-hearted charioteer. En revanche, they charged only eight dollars for the use of the equipage for two days; reasonable enough, in contrast with Richmond prices. We were out in two very heavy rains, and arrived a little before eight o’clock in the evening; too late to think of going farther. Our quarters here are comfortable, and we shall leave the place this evening, and arrive in Washington tomorrow morning; there again we must be detained by the absence of our luggage, which we were in great consternation at not finding here. I presume the stage was too much crowded to admit of its being taken on at Charlottesville. I have my black silk frock, which I find fits me infamously, after all my trouble; and a single berege hkf; a single black petticoat, and a few changes of linen. I shall shine with all the braveries in the metropolis, which—at this season — is, however, little better than a dirty country village.
[Here ends the transcription of Ellen’s writing.]
The old horses carried us very well to Gordonsville, where we were glad to find Nicholas. Mr. and Mrs. Madison met us with the utmost kindness; and their manner to me, seemed to say ‘ for Ellen’s sake we feel an interest in you. ’ Mrs. M did everything to induce us to remain some days with her, telling us that Mrs. Cutts, and Mrs. Decatur, were expected to arrive on the very evening of our departure; but we were obliged to leave them, with the promise never to pass their house at future visits, without calling upon them. Nicholas accompanied us to the Court House, and left us there, with the most affectionate wishes of both for his health and success. We were more than 11½ hours on the road, though the distance is but 35 miles, and we stopped but once. At an inn kept by a Mr. Robinson, we met two gentlemen, one of them no longer very young, who were on their way to Mr. Madison’s, and mean to visit Monticello, also. I did n’t take to them; the younger was silent, and the other self-satisfied and intrusive. He seemed to think that Mr. Madison and Mr. Jefferson were under many obligations to those who called upon them; at least, that the obligations were mutual. He told me a strange tale wh has n’t been confirmed here, ‘that a committee of the Georgia Legislature had in answer to the Gov’r advised him to prepare a separation of the states, and that the Potomac be the dividing line!’ On the road we met the ladies who were expected at Montpelier; Mrs. Decatur very much agitated at the meeting, Mrs. Cutts was more calm, but still a good deal affected.
This day is very warm and we have acted wisely to remain here till the evening. I have just heard that my eccentric Bro. remained in Fredericksburg 2 or 3 days, and the portfolio has been sent from the inn where he lodged containing letters, to and from himself, and also one from me to my father, wh he had carelessly left behind. Of course these have been read by the crowd of listless saunterers who frequent a village tavern; and I feel something like indignation at perceiving on a loose sheet wh was designed for a letter to his friends in Boston, an elaborate description of Ellen — her personal and mental qualities; a minute dissection as far as circumstances permitted, of her head and heart. This is intolerable, certainly. . . .
Affectionately
Yrs J. C. JR.

The eccentric brother referred to in the letter was Mr. Coolidge’s younger brother, Thomas Bulfinch Coolidge. This young man was somewhat of a scapegrace, and was engaged to a girl whom the family may not have approved of as highly as they did of Ellen. He was undoubtedly present at the wedding, and appears to have turned up intermittently at various points on their homeward journey in a sort of combined capacity of companion, courier, and body servant. The allusions to him are not always as grateful as his services would seem to demand. From Washington Ellen wrote a long and rather dispirited letter back to her mother, taken up mostly with accounts of the kindness of some of her friends and the lack of it of others. There were the usual worries about luggage, and solicitous letters to everyone at home, with rather condescending reference to the servants (slaves). She was evidently tired after a hard journey, and Washington in 1825 did not offer the distractions that it would have offered a century later.

WASHINGTON, June 26, 1825
... I have not spoken of my journey which was like other journies, with the usual quantum of trouble and fatigue, and the usual monotony of what is called a safe journey. If our trunks arrive, we shall leave Washington on the morning of the 28th, and you will hear from us in Baltimore. . . .
We spent last afternoon with Aunt Randolph and the evening with Mrs. Bulfinch. I think in the show of relations, as far as this city goes, Joseph has the advantage of me. His are neither very elegant nor fashionable, but amiable and kind, and have treated me with great cordiality. . . .
Mr. Bulfinch, the lawyer, is drawing up a power of attorney which Joseph will sign empowering Jefferson to dispose of Sally and to protect her. Her own wishes you know, my dear mother, must direct the disposition that is made of her, for I would not for the world that after living with me fifteen years, any kind of violence should be done to her feelings. If she wishes to be sold, let her choose her own master; if to be hired, she should have the same liberty, or at least not be sent anywhere where she is unwilling to go; but why should I say anything to you on this subject, who are the very soul of gentleness and humanity.
Adieu, dearest, dearest mother. I think of the servants even with affection, and wish them to know that I do so. . . .
Your own devoted daughter,
ELLEN

A short letter from Mr. Coolidge from Baltimore tells of the further progress of the journey northward, but there is unfortunately no record of the stop either there or at Philadelphia.

New York City in 1825

Three letters from New York tell Ellen Coolidge’s story while there in her own way. They give a diverting suggestion of hectic, hurried days, overcrowded with bustle, shopping, officialism, and social circumstance, and their attendant fatigues, which might well be true of the same place to-day. The central interest of these days, not only for this particular young couple, but for the whole country, was the stay of General La Fayette and his reception in New York, on his way to visit Jefferson at Monticello. By a lucky chance, this coincided almost exactly with the time when the Coolidges arrived on their way North, and Ellen’s ready pen gives a clear-cut description of what was a great event not only in her own life but in that of the young nation as well. Thanks to her personal relation to the General himself, arising from his lifelong intimacy with her grandfather, and thanks also to the fact that she happened to be in the city for the first time in the sentimental position of a bride on her wedding trip, she had an exceptional opportunity to tell dramatically the tale which these three letters disclose.

NEW YORK, July 7, 1825
Engagements of one kind or other multiply upon me, dearest Mother, and every spare moment seems valuable. . . .
In the morning, when I first opened my eyes, there has always been some journey to prepare for and commence, or a variety of engagements to visit places and persons so numerous and pressing as scarcely to leave me time to dress & breakfast. The days have passed in the fulfillment of these engagements or in the excitement of rapid traveling through new countries, where everything was unknown, and of course to a certain degree interesting, generally too on crowded stages or steamboats with a variety of strange objects to attract my attention and arrest my thoughts in spile of myself. Then at night I have gone to bed exhausted and fallen almost immediately to sleep overcome by mere bodily fatigue. . . .
Gen’l La Fayette called on us yesterday, but finding us out left word that he would come again today. He spoke very affectionately to Thomas who received him, made many inquiries after both our families, and in presence of the admiring envying crowd took both his hands & led him into the street to repeat his assurances of friendship for us & his wish to visit us at any time when it might be convenient to the lady to receive him. Thomas diverted himself a good deal at the gapes and stares of the multitude who wished to see who it could be that received such marks of attention from the General.
We shall remain in New York nearly a week longer. How very sorry I am you cannot know this in time to write to us again here. I have seen some of the sights of the place, walked on the famous battery, gazed on the bright and beautiful bay, with its forts and islands & shipping, visited the Castle Garden so celebrated in the Fayette annals, & driven the length of the city which is so immense in comparison with anything I ever saw, of such magnitude and such population with such an appearance of life & activity that I can scarcely recover from my surprise. The streets literally swarm, the noise is incessant , & overpowering, & I can never look out of the window without fancying there must be some extraordinary occasion for such rapid & hurried movements; such throngs of people; such ringing of bells and hurrying to and fro of men, horses, carriages etc. etc. but it is always the same. We shall visit Miss Morris probably tomorrow. . . .
Your own,
ELLEN

Joseph begins the following letter.

July 9th
MY DEAR MOTHER:
I have been at the office, and found there yours of July 5th. It was wholly unexpected, and has given great pleasure to Ellen, for her fears respecting Elizabeth have made her anxious to hear from Ashton. We are going out, and the carriage is now waiting at the door, but yours shows such a wish to hear from her by every post that while she is putting on her bonnet I write to tell you that she is well, notwithstanding her constant exertion, for there is so much to be done and seen here that we are obliged to be up early and late.
[The following is in Ellen’s handwriting.]
Joseph is putting on his cravat and I have taken up the pen dearest mother to say how happy I am to hear of Elizabeth’s safety. I have had many fears on her account & her melancholy face, as I saw it last so pale & apprehensive, has haunted my imagination since we parted. I am well and going out this morning to do my shopping in company with Mrs. Henry Rogers, a great friend of Joseph’s, & a lovely elegant creature. I shall get a bonnet, veil, scarf, india muslin dress, and some more lace if the money holds out. This will complete my wedding paraphernalia and set me handsomely afloat. I shall write to one of you tomorrow or the day after. This evening I am going to see the ascent of an aeronaut in a balloon at Castle Garden. The Marquis called on us yesterday, seemed very glad to see us, and thinks he will be at Monticello by the end of July or beginning of August. Adieu, dearest mother, the carriage waits & it is a hack.
Love to all from your own devoted
ELLEN

N.B. [by Joseph] ’ts not a hack; tis a ‘ glass coach ’!!!

NEW YORK, July 16, 1825
I have risen an hour or two earlier than usual, my dearest mother, to write you a few lines, as it is nearly a week since my last letter to Mary, & I fear you may become uneasy. We have been detained much longer in N. York than we expected, which I regret exceedingly as the expense of living in a boarding house is enormous, to say nothing of the most excessive charges for washing, hack hire &c &c. There has been so much to see & do, that it was quite impossible for us to have got away sooner without defeating the objects for which we came. I have been in more constant movement than I ever was before, visiting, shopping, & seeing of sights.
We have been attended to by many persons but by no one more than our dear excellent La Fayette. He went so far as to remonstrate with the common council for occupying his whole time with their arrangements ‘whilst,’ said he ‘the grand daughter of one of my dearest friends is in N. York knowing scarcely any one but myself, and I am prevented from visiting her & paying her the attention I wish to pay.’ Upon this the recorder of the city who is also attached to the municipal body, waited upon us, introduced himself & having mentioned this circumstance invited us to meet the General at his house that evening, & to accompany him the next morning on a visit to Staten Island, whither he went to see Mrs. Tompkins, the widow of the V. President. These arrangements were accordingly carried into effect, & it was on board the steamboat the following day after our return from Staten Island that I took leave of this truly amiable & excellent man. . . .
Mr. Ricker, the common council man and Recorder, who introduced himself to us, is a great friend of my grandfather’s. Under his patronage we were led through the City Hall, & to its summit, commanding perhaps the finest view I ever saw, the whole city of N. Y. the adjoining country set thick with villages & farm houses, the Bay which is said to rival that of Naples, with its islands, forts and shipping, the Hudson River, two miles wide, stretching far to the North, the East River flowing off towards the Sound, the New Jersey shore, the Town of Brooklyn, the settlement at Paulus Hook, the graves and walks of Hoboken, in short more beautiful objects than I can write the names of. The municipal father himself is a true picture of a good humored, self important, (vulgar) aiderman, and the good dame his wife, with misses his daughters, form altogether such a thrifty family of cits as you read of in English novels. I was very much amused at the extreme deference he showed me, in union with a deep sense of his own dignity & importance, his erect little person, head set back upon his shoulders, his formal bows and bustling courtesy, the respect, with which his brothers of the municipality approached him, & his own corresponding politeness. He was in agonies lest his daughters should in any way forget what was due to the granddaughter of Mr. Jefferson and the friend of La Fayette, & he bustled and hurried around me, herding me from place to place with perpetual admonitions to his womenkind, ‘Betsy, my dear, you crowd Mrs. Coolidge;’ ‘Anne, get out of that window, my child, Mrs. Coolidge cannot see;’ ‘Girls, fall back. Mrs. Coolidge is distressed by the heat ,’ etc. etc. with constant references to my dear grandfather which delighted me even from the lips of a dutch common-councilman. We have been to Morrisonia and were very kindly received. The spot is one of Nature’s favorites, & bears marks of having been once the abode of wealth and luxury, though at present the very abomination of desolation prevails through manor, house & garden. . . .
Love to all
Au revoir, dearest mother.

New England and Boston

Further letters tell the story of the remaining journey through northern New England and down the Connecticut Valley to Springfield and Boston. The route seems to have been up the Hudson River to Lake George and Lake Champlain, and across the latter to the Vermont shore, and then down the Connecticut to Springfield, and easterly to Boston.

BURLINGTON, July 26, 1825
We reached Burlington on Saturday evening after enjoying the sight of some grand and beautiful views, the scenery on Lake Champlain quite different from that of Lake George, is nevertheless exceedingly fine. The Vermont shore is not particularly interesting, except in some points where one catches a distant view of those green mountains which have given their name to the state & to some of the most gallant revolutionary defenders, but the New York side is one continued range of grand mountains, which lying in different ridges give you every variety of colour from the deep garter blue of the nearer and lower, to the dim pale tinge of azure so faint as scarcely to allow you to distinguish the outline of the distant sierra from the sky against which it rests. . . .
The pleasure I enjoyed met however with a sad interruption; when we were about six or eight miles from Burlington, there came up a storm of wind and rain which drove us all below. This was bad enough, but presently the waves began to run quick and short, the boat rolled and tossed, & the female passengers became almost all of them exceedingly sick. The cabin presented a sad scene. One poor lady who had taken a heavy dinner, will, I venture to say, never follow the example of Mrs. Duck again, that is if she is capable of learning from experience, how much greater is the pain of disgorging than the pleasure of swallowing. Another unfortunate creature was dragged on deck during a temporary cessation of the rain, and Thomas who undertook the management of her (there were not more than two female servants on board) began by forcing half a glass of brandy down her throat. For myself, fortunately having breakfasted late, & eaten again in the middle of the day, I had declined taking any dinner, so that the foul fiend of sea sickness, finding my stomach strong in its emptiness, after administering a few qualms, turned its force against my head. I had gone to the door for air, and Joseph was at my side, when a sudden dizzy stupor came over my brain, my recollection seemed for a moment to desert me, the ground gave way under my feet, & I should have fallen but for my husband who immediately raised me in his arms, & carried me to a berth, where after some time I recovered so far as when we reached Burlington to be able to rise and walk. . . .
Burlington is the most beautiful village I have ever seen. It is built on the very brink of the lake, which is here at least ten miles wide, and commands a full view of the mountains, & rich scenery of the N. Y. shore. The streets are wide, not paved, but of a fine grey clay which would scarcely soil a white shoe. The ‘grande place’ or courthouse square is large and has not a single bad house fronting upon it, whilst there are some very fine ones. Indeed the private houses generally are among the best I have ever seen; some are large, well-built, surrounded with handsome gardens, and fine trees, & I am told quite elegantly furnished within; others with less pretension, and belonging to persons of smaller fortunes, are extremely neat and apparently comfortable, with green lots, and pretty simple paling. They build pretty generally with brick, which is sometimes covered with stucco, but even the little wooden houses of the common people have an air of cleanly comfort that is delightful to witness. The inhabitants to the number of about 3000 are well looking & of very respectable appearance, and the whole village has a most pleasing look of quiet & neatness & order; but the country round seems to me exceedingly sterile, and the good people surely deserve great credit for overcoming the obstacles which I think must have stood in their way; there are some green fields & grassy dells, and here and there knolls with trees which the eye rests on with pleasure, but in spite of the beauty of the season and the scenery, the industry & regularity of the inhabitants, there are some things, many things, which tell harsh tales of a barren land & dreary climate. The principal growth about the city is of miserable, pinched, & poverty-stricken pines, so ragged and wretched that it makes your heart ache to look at them. The clayey soil has a most weary stale flat & unprofitable countenance; in the houses you are alarmed at the sight of stove-pipes running in every direction, and when you go out, great piles of wood already cut and prepared for winter’s use, speak volumes of the horrors of a climate where such precautions are necessary. Then the southern eye is shocked by finding those barbarous machines of sleighs constantly associated with other carriages & my blood runs cold as I read a sign ‘such a one, carriage and sleigh maker’ so true it is that in the midst of summer we are in winter, in the middle of life we are in death. The house maid, a bright, intelligent, little girl, with whom I like to chat sometimes, tells me that the snow falls every year 5 or 6 feet deep. How terrible. . . .
Remember me affectionately to all at home including the Ashton and Sutton families, and believe me dearest mother ever your own daughter. E

Next follows the most important letter of the group, sent by Ellen not to her mother or sisters, but to her friend and teacher, her grandfather, Thomas Jefferson. This letter, written in a style similar to and quite as vigorous as his own, and marked by the same tendency to wordiness, shows the deep intellectual companionship that had for years existed between these two persons of the same blood, but differing in age by nearly fifty years. It is reprinted by permission of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

BOSTON, August 1, ’25
Having reached Boston in safety, my dearest grandfather, one of my first cares is to write to you, to thank you for all the kindness I have received from you, & for all the affection you have shown me, from my infancy & childhood, throughout the course of my maturer years; the only return I can make is by gratitude the deepest & most enduring and love the most devoted ; and although removed by fortune to a distance from you, yet my heart is always with you. I shall write as often as the fear of troubling you (who are already so much troubled by numerous letters from others) will permit, and return to see you whenever I possibly can, and this I hope will not be unfrequently. The facility of traveling is now such that I have myself passed over about 1000 miles in 12 days; for, of the five weeks that elapsed between my leaving Monticello & reaching Boston, we have stopped more than three in different great cities on the road. Mr. Coolidge wished to give me an idea of the beauty & prosperity of the New England states, & instead of taking me from New York to Boston by sea, he planned a tour, which we have accordingly made, up the Hudson as far as Albany, from thence to Saratoga, Lakes George & Champlain, as far north as Burlington in Vermont, from Burlington across the country to the Connecticut River, & down this river to Springfield, from whence, through the interior of Massachusetts, to Boston. The journey has been long & somewhat fatiguing; but it has made me acquaint ed with probably the fairest & most flourishing portion of New England, and I do not regret having taken it; it has given me an idea of prosperity & improvement, such as I fear our Southern States cannot hope for, whilst the canker of slavery eats into their hearts & diseases the whole body by this ulcer at the core. When I consider the immense advantage of soil & climate which we possess over these people, it grieves me to think that such great gifts of Nature should have failed to produce anything like the wealth and improvement which the New Englanders have wrung from the hard bosom of a stubborn & ungrateful land, & amid the gloom & desolation of their wintry skies. I should judge from appearances that they are at least a century in advance of us in all the arts & embellishments of life; & they are pressing forward in their course with zeal and activity which I think must ensure success. It is certainly a pleasing sight, this flourishing state of things. The country is covered with a multitude of beautiful villages; the fields are cultivated & forced into fertility; the roads kept in the most exact order; the inns numerous, affording good accommodations, & traveling facilitated by the ease with which post carriages & horses are always to be obtained. Along the banks of the Connecticut there are rich meadow lands, & here New might, I should think, almost challenge Old England in beauty of landscape. From the top of Mount Holyoke, which commands, perhaps, one of the most extensive views in these States, the whole country as you look down upon it resembles one vast garden divided into its parterres. There are upwards of twenty villages in sight at once, & the windings of the Connecticut are every where marked, not only by its clear & bright waters, but by the richness & beauty of the fields and meadows, & the density of population on it’s banks. The villages themselves have an air of neatness & comfort that is delightful. The houses have no architectural pretensions, but they are pleasing to look at, for they are almost all painted white, with vines about the windows & doors, & grass plots in front decorated with flowers & shrubs; a neat paling separates each little domain from its neighbor; & the outhouses are uniformly excellent, especially the wood house, which is a prominent feature in every establishment, & is, even at this season, well nigh filled with the stock for winter’s use. The school-houses are comfortable looking buildings, & the churches with their white steeples add not a little to the beauty of the landscape. It is common also to find the larger of these country towns the scat of colleges, which are numerous throughout the country.
The appearance of the people generally is much in their favor; the men seem sober, orderly, & industrious. I have seen but one drunken man since I entered New England, & he was a South Carolinian. The women are modest, tidy, & well looking. The children even are more quiet & civil than you generally find them elsewhere; they are almost all taught to curtsy or bow to passers-by; and it is an amusing & not unpleasant sight to see a group of these little urchins returning from school with their books in their hands, draw up by the side of the road & gravely salute the traveller, who rewards their courtesy only by a smile & a nod.
I have visited only one of the great cotton factories which are beginning to abound in the country, & although it was a flourishing establishment, & excited my astonishment by its powers of machinery & the immense saving of time & labor, yet I could not get reconciled to it. The manufacturer grows rich whilst the farmer plods on in comparative poverty; but the pure air of heaven & the liberty of the fields in summer, with a quiet & comfortable fireside in winter, certainly strike the imagination more favorably than the confinement of the large but close, heated, & crowded rooms of a factory, the constant whirl & deafening roar of machinery, & the close, sour, & greasy smells emitted by the different ingredients employed in the different processes of manufacturing cotton & woollen cloths. Also, I fancied the farmers & labourers looked more cheerful & healthy than the persons employed in the factories, & their wives & daughters prettier & neater than the women & girls I saw before the looms & spinning jennies. There are two little spectacles I liked much to look out upon from the windows of the carriages; the one was the frequent waggons laden high above their tops with hay (the country through which I have passed being principally a grass-growing one), drawn by the largest, finest, & handsomest oxen I have ever seen, & driven by a hail, ruddy farmer’s lad; the other was a country girl driving home her cow, for the girls, as I have said before, are well looking, healthy, & modest, & the cows laden with their milky treasures might, any one of them, serve as a study for a painter who desired to express this sort of abundance.
I have written badly, I fear almost illegibly, for I am not yet recovered from the fatigue of my journey, & my hand trembles; after this long letter, then, my dearest grandfather, I will bid you adieu. I have been received with great kindness by my new relations, but my heart turns towards those who love me so much better than any others can ever do. I am anxious, however, to conciliate those with whom I am hereafter to reside, & shall strive to make friends, particularly as I have every reason to believe that my husband’s family & circle of immediate friends are persons of uncommon merit. Mr. Coolidge prays to be permitted to express his regard & veneration for you, & will attend immediately to your memorandum. Once more adieu, my dear grandpapa, love to all, and for yourself the assurance of my devoted love.
ELLEN W. COOLIDGE

The arrival in Boston and reception by Mr. Coolidge’s family was perhaps just what might have been expected.

BOSTON, July 31, 95
The post goes out immediately, dearest mother, but I will if possible write a line to let you know of our safe arrival here. We reached Boston in the stage coach between ten and eleven o’clock last night, the family had given up expecting us for that day & had all retired except Joseph’s father, who was still in the drawing room. His mother and sister were down, however, in less time than it would have been possible for any Virginia lady to accomplish such a business — the whole family received me affectionately, but I remained with them a few moments only before Joseph and Thomas sent me off to bed; this morning I felt fatigued & feverish & determined not to rise by Elizabeth’s advice until towards noon, and I write this to you from my bed. I am not at all ill, but only tired. This being Sunday the whole family have gone to Church leaving me in charge of the ‘bonne’ a very respectable looking old lady. . . .
Love to all my dear ones. Mrs. Nichols hurries me with my letter & I have inked the sheet all over. Adieu my own beloved mother
Ever your own
ELLEN

The whole trip and its impressions are summarized in a letter to Mrs. Randolph by Mr. Coolidge written from Nahant in August, with a postscript by Ellen. This last letter gives the reverse side of the picture so far as the wonders of the wedding journey are concerned, and makes fairly plain the sort of difficulties which the delicate, high-strung Virginia bride had to contend with in adjusting herself to the atmosphere of Boston in 1825.

BOSTON, August 1825
MY DEAR MOTHER:
We are at Nahant, and I devote a leisure hour to my friends at Monticello. Our journey became at length fatiguing, owing to the excessively warm weather, crowded inns and coaches; so that we were glad to arrive at my father’s house where they had long expected us. Several days were necessary to recover from the exhaustion of our ride, and Ellen, then, received the visits of those who called upon her. Of course she can, as yet, have formed no friendships, having had opportunity only to see the faces of the circle in which she is to live. I do not think that she is so much pleased with Boston, or its inhabitants, as I thought she would have been; both were praised too highly by those we met on our route; and who, learning her destination, thought to ingratiate themselves by speaking well of her future residence. As for the city, long drought had destroyed everything like verdure, so that the environs of Boston were as dry and dirty as its streets, and then we arrived at midnight, on Saturday, and were too tired to look upon the fronts even of the houses we passed by moonlight. . . .
Our journey will not furnish a subject for pleasant, letters; but I ought to write you more particularly about herself: First (it will interest you, I know, to hear it) my friends all like her, and secondly she will I am certain be a general favorite; many will love her for my sake; more for her own. The climate, too, of wh she had heard such accts will, I am sure, be of more benefit to her health than she can imagine — and our habits will be found to nearly resemble those to wh she has been accustomed; moreover, she will soon acknowledge that the reports of inconvenience and independence in our domestics are very much exaggerated. . . .
I am most sincerely glad to hear of Mr. Jefferson’s improving health; the crowds of uninteresting men among whom I have been moving of late make me think of him with increased veneration, and public opinion in this section of our country has changed, of late, much, very much, in regard to him; public and private testimony to his patriotism and character, are no longer infrequent; to his literary merits they have never been so.
Yrs
J. C. JR.

The following is in Ellen’s handwriting.

NAHANT, Wednesday
I have received your letter of Aug. 2 my dearest mother, and will write very soon. I am staying here to recruit after a journey too long and too rapidly made not to be exceptionally fatiguing. Mr. and Mrs. Ticknor who are staying here also have been the very soul of kindness to me. Were it not for them I should have but a melancholy time, for I know nobody, and am too homesick and pining after all I have left behind me at Monticello to make myself amiable to persons who having no interest at all in forming an acquaintance with me, are careless about seeking me. Love to all and for yourself, dearest mother, the assurance that each day adds to the tenderness of my love since each day makes me more sensible of all I have lost in a separation from you.
Ever your own,
ELLEN