1828 Book Tasting

Prologue

December 22, 1828

Andrew Jackson sat by the bedside of his ailing wife, Rachel. The dimly lit room was melancholy as the evening sun cast long shadows through the lace curtains. Rachel’s breathing was labored, and her once bright eyes had grown dim. He held her frail hand in his, feeling her warmth slowly fading.

“Andrew,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I fear my time has come.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he managed to give a weak smile. “Don’t speak of such things, my love. You’ll get through this, just as you always have.”

Rachel’s hand trembled, and she clutched his hand tightly. “I wish I could, but I’ve known for some time. The doctors can’t save me, and I don’t want to suffer any longer.”

Andrew’s heart ached. He leaned closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “We’ve faced many hardships together, Rachel. I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

She smiled, though the effort pained her. “Our love will endure, my dear. Promise me, you’ll always remember me and keep my memory alive.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I promise, Rachel. You’ll forever be in my heart. I’ll cherish the moments we’ve shared.”

Rachel’s breathing became even shallower. She whispered, “Tell them… to take care of you.” Her grip on his hand weakened.

“I will, my love,” he whispered, his voice choked with grief.

In those ultimate moments, they exchanged a loving gaze, a silent acknowledgment of their deep and enduring bond. And as the day dipped below the horizon, Rachel Jackson took her last breath, leaving Andrew with a profound emptiness in his heart.

The room fell into silence, broken only by the soft silence of Andrew Jackson, a man who had faced countless battles and challenges, but none that could compare to the loss of his beloved Rachel.

***

After Rachel’s last breath, Andrew kissed her forehead one final time and reluctantly released her hand. He stood up, his legs trembling, and quietly exited the dimly lit bedroom, closing the door behind him. He was met with the soft glow of candlelight in the hallway, and the Hermitage’s grandeur suddenly felt oppressive.

As he descended the creaking wooden hallway, memories of their life flooded his mind. He reached the parlor, where friends and family had gathered, their faces marked by worry and anticipation. Their eyes turned toward him as he entered.

Andrew cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of grief. “My dear friends and family,” he began, “it is with a heavy heart that I must share the news. Rachel has departed this world, and she is at peace.”

Gasps and sobs filled the room, and Andrew’s own eyes welled with tears. He continued, “She passed surrounded by love, with her hand in mine. Her suffering is over, and her spirit will forever live on in our hearts.”

Rachel’s niece, Emily, clutched her handkerchief to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Uncle Andrew, she was a true angel.”

Andrew nodded, his voice quivering. “Indeed, she was, and she always will be.” He looked around at the somber faces in the room, feeling a profound sense of gratitude for those who had gathered to support him.

“Please,” he implored, “let us remember the joy and love she brought into our lives. She wouldn’t want us to mourn for long. We will celebrate her life, her kindness, and her enduring spirit.”

One by one, family and friends approached him, offering their condolences and sharing their memories of Rachel. Amid their sorrow, a sense of unity and love emerged, reminding Andrew that, even in their grief, there was strength in their bonds.

The night passed in a mixture of sorrow and reflection, as stories of Rachel’s warmth, laughter, and kindness filled the air. Jackson, a man who had faced battles on the field of war and in the political arena, now faced the greatest battle of all—saying goodbye to the love of his life. And in the days and years to come, he would carry her memory with him, ensuring that Rachel’s legacy would never be forgotten.

With the weight of grief heavy upon him, Jackson retreated to his study. The room was adorned with countless books, maps, and the trappings of a lifetime dedicated to service and leadership. However, today it was a sanctuary for his sorrow.

He closed the door behind him, shutting out the whispers and condolences that echoed through the home. It was starting to feel more like a solitary prison by the moment. In this private chamber, he sank into the well-worn armchair by the window, the soft light of the setting sun casting a warm glow across the room.

As he grieved for Rachel, he found solace in the memories they had created together. He recalled their laughter, their shared dreams, and the moments of tenderness that had sustained him through the storms of life. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched a locket containing a lock of Rachel’s hair, a cherished memento that she had given him long ago.

But amid the grief, a profound sense of duty welled up within him. He had always been a man of strong convictions, and the nation’s turmoil weighed heavily on his mind. He knew that secession, the notion that the Southern states might break away from the Union, was gaining momentum. It was a dire solution.

Jackson took a deep breath, gathered his strength, and turned to his writing desk. He felt compelled to pray, seeking guidance and wisdom in this critical moment. Bowing his head, he whispered words of comfort, seeking solace in faith, and asking for clarity in the decisions he was about to make.

As he finished his prayer, he reached for a quill and inkwell. With careful deliberation, he began to compose a letter that would be published in Democratic newspapers across the country. It was a plea for sacrifice, a call for Americans to remember the principles upon which the nation had been founded. But it was also a warning, a stern message that secession, while a grave step, might be the only way to preserve the principles of liberty that he held almost as dear as his wife.

The words flowed from his pen as he drafted a letter that would not only express his grief for Rachel but also his fervent belief in the righteousness of his cause. He knew that by publishing this letter, he would be taking a stand that would define his legacy.

When the last words were written, he sealed the letter with wax and took a moment to reflect on the gravity of the path he had chosen. With Rachel’s memory as his guiding light, he was ready to send this missive to the world, in the hope that it would resonate with those who shared his ideals and those who would be called upon to make tough decisions in the turbulent years ahead.

***

My Fellow Citizens,

I pen these words with a heavy heart, for they carry the weight of a nation’s turmoil and my own profound sorrow. It is with great reluctance that I find myself compelled to address you on a matter of such gravity. I must speak of secession, a topic that should fill any patriot with apprehension and sorrow, yet a course of action that I believe has become a dire necessity.

Our young Republic stands at a crossroads, torn by strife and plagued by political corruption. The very foundations upon which our great nation was built are under siege, and the spirit of liberty, so ardently defended by our forefathers, is being eroded.

In the year 1824, I, Andrew Jackson, stood as a candidate for the office of the President of the United States. In a contest marked by the voices of the people, I received the majority of both the popular vote and the electoral college. It should have been a resounding affirmation of our democratic principles, the voice of the people manifesting in their choice for leadership.

However, the circumstances of that election have left a cloud of suspicion and doubt that I can no longer ignore. John Quincy Adams, it is widely believed, secured the presidency through political maneuvering and a “corrupt bargain.” This event, a stain on our democracy, cast a shadow of doubt over the legitimacy of the government.

I have wrestled with this issue in my heart, pondered it in my study, and prayed for guidance. The question that looms before us is this: Can we, as patriots, continue to pledge allegiance to a government that has strayed so far from the principles of liberty, fairness, and representation?

My friends, it is with great sadness that I have come to the conclusion that we may have no choice but to initiate secession from the Union. This is not a call to arms or a desire for division; it is a desperate plea to preserve the principles upon which our nation was founded.

It is my fervent hope that this letter serves as a wake-up call, not only to those who share my convictions but to all Americans who believe in the ideals of freedom, justice, and the right to self-determination. The course of action I propose is drastic, but the circumstances in Washington demand nothing less.

We must reflect on our history, on the sacrifices of our forefathers, and on the aspirations that have defined our great nation. We must remember that, in the face of injustice and corruption, the spirit of America has always been one of courage and determination.

Let us, as free citizens, engage in peaceful discourse, debate, and prayer to determine the course of our future. Our collective decision should be grounded in the spirit of democracy, fairness, and love of country.

May we find a path forward in secession, which preserves the principles upon which our Republic was built. And may we honor the memory of those who have sacrificed for our liberty and the principles that have guided us since the birth of our great nation.

With respect and a heavy heart,

Andrew Jackson