The General’s Daughter: A ‘Modern’ Woman in 19th Century Bangor

Frances Veazie Lord.

A portrait of Mrs. Frances Lord hangs in the Thomas A. Hill House Museum in Bangor, Maine, painted by Jeremiah Pearson Hardy in 1847. A shawl covers one shoulder, and her moss green gown is pinned with a jeweled brooch and a ruby next to her throat. In one hand she holds several calling cards that she gives out when visiting neighbors.

At the Hill House, Bangor Historical Society.

Nearby in the museum hangs the portrait of her husband, Captain Nathaniel Lord, sitting in a straight chair, looking as if he’s about to run off on another business venture. His forehead is pale, while his cheeks are red—a hint of where he’s been for the past year.

His portrait, also by Hardy, was begun in 1851 but not completed until two years later. Nathaniel’s eyes are not as clear as his wife’s. His face seems a bit unreal.

Nathaniel Lord.

Next to Frances’ portrait is a small plaque giving her full name: Frances Augusta Hunt Veazie Lord—which, as we will learn, was only partially true.

Frances began life as the only daughter of General Samuel Veazie—a veteran of the War of 1812 and a native of Portland. Her mother was the former Susanne Walker of Topsham. After the war Samuel returned to Topsham and continued operating the Androscoggin Boom—a system of organizing logs floating down the river to saw mills. He also bought an inn, a sawmill, and a shipyard—a far cry from his younger days as an apprentice to a baker.

The Bangor Boom

By the 1820s the General was buying lumber mills in the Bangor area, northeast of Topsham on the Penobscot River. Within the next few decades, Bangor would be named the lumber capital of the world with ships lined up so thick you could walk across the river from boat to boat. Rough woodcutters and Irish immigrants would walk her streets while wealthy merchants and women in silk gowns hurried by in carriages.

Maine became a state in 1820, and large tracts of virgin forests were up for sale. Ships traveled up the Penobscot River from the Atlantic Ocean to Bangor, loaded lumber harvested from the northern woods, and sailed to anywhere in the world. The General, as he called himself, kept buying more and more saw mills until he owned 52 in all.

Penobscot River and Bangor, Maine, early 1800s.

By the 1830s, the General had sold his Topsham properties and relocated his wife, two sons, and daughter to a three-story house in Bangor on Broadway, where new lumber barons were taking up residency. He bought the Bank of Bangor and renamed it Veazie Bank, issuing paper currency with his likeness.

He also purchased a 450-foot wide lot on Bangor’s waterfront that bordered Washington Street, the river, and Joseph Carr’s lot. He paid a few hundred dollars for what became known as the Veazie Wharf and Dock, a valuable commercial property.

Veazie’s Wharf, early 1800s.

In the mid-1830s during Bangor’s financial boom, the General’s eldest son, Jones, went into the lumber and real estate business with his second cousin, Nathaniel Lord. Nathaniel was an educated man born in Kennebunkport into a wealthy shipping family. The two young men set up shop in Bangor, while the city’s population grew almost overnight with all the land and lumber buying and selling. Larger saw mills were built, larger hotels, and other businesses to support the influx of people to the northerly city. In the midst of this excitement, Nathaniel married Jones’s sister, the fashionable Frances.

A Successful Marriage

Interior view, St. John’s Episcopal Church, 1890s.

In 1836, the impressive St. John’s Episcopal Church, designed by the famed Richard Upjohn, was near completion and Nathaniel and Frances’ first child, Charles Veazie, was born. The Lords attended services at the nearby church and had their children baptized there.

And then the speculation bubble busted. Some businessmen “lost their shirts” while others eventually regained some, if not all, of their wealth. The Lords were in the latter category. Besides handling business dealings, Nathaniel ran and won two terms on the city council and one term as city treasure, and Frances gave birth to their first daughter, Susan Walker.

Three more children were born in the early 1840s—Francis (Frank) Nathaniel, Phebe Louise, and Maria Antoinette—and the Lords had an impressive Greek Revival house built on the corner of French and Penobscot Streets, near Broadway. The structure had central heat, indoor plumbing, and running hot and cold water—all rare in 19th Century Bangor.

Nathaniel and Frances Lord’s Bangor home.

Looking for Gold

Then in 1848, gold was discovered 50 miles east of Sacramento, California, while the Lords’ newest son, Frederick Dana, was named in honor of Maine’s new governor. By August, 4,000 prospectors had descended on California, with many more to follow. They traveled by foot or by ship as railroads had not been built that far west.

The General and Nathaniel financed the construction of a fast steamboat around 1849 but were prevented from operating on the Penobscot due to a monopoly situation. So they came up with an alternative plan. The Governor Dana, a 90-horsepower paddle steamer, was dismantled into smaller parts and loaded onto a slow-moving sailing vessel that traveled around Cape Horn and on to California.

Nathaniel and Frances allowed Charles, 13, to go on that boat, along with his tutor. While Charles was on the slower ship, Nathaniel took a faster one to Panama, crossed the swamp isthmus, and caught a ride on another boat to meet the heavier vessel on California’s shore.

Making Headlines

On April 15, 1850, the Governor Dana, manned by a professional crew from Maine, made California news as the first steamboat ever to travel up the Sacramento River to the gold mines. The Dana made the voyage in less than eight hours—a record time—between Sacramento City and Marysville.

According to the October, 1850, US Census for Sacramento City, the following Maine men were staying at the same place as Nathaniel Lord, who was 45 at the time: Warren R. Young, 28, steamer captain; Samuel Barroll, 25, Moses Woodman, 35, and Charles H. Hays, 24, clerks; Thomas Stinson, 26, pilot; and Fred Parmer, 20, agent.

Back in Bangor, Frances kept things going with children underfoot, all under the age of 12, while managing her house and two female servants. She lived near George Stetson and his family, a lumber baron and banker, as well as lumberman Moses Giddings. Several houses down from the Lords was Cyrus Arnold, a livery stable owner, who boarded John C. Smith, a well-loved Episcopal clergyman, and his wife. The stylish church was within walking distance, Frances’ parents and brothers’ families were still active in the area, and at least one married female friend, also from a wealthy family, was staying at Frances’ house.

Nathaniel and Charles returned by the spring of 1851, and Nathaniel’s portrait sittings began with Hardy. But with over 100,000 gold seekers flooding California, Nathaniel returned to the Dana in early 1852.

Hard Times Begin

Susanne Walker Veazie.

Unfortunately for Frances, her mother died in late June. She was 60 years old so her passing may not have been unexpected. Yet Frances did not have the comfort of her husband. She was also pregnant with their seventh child, due in July.

Two weeks later, on the morning of July 11, Nathaniel was managing another run with the steamer. According to a newspaper, he gave orders for a customer’s baggage to be put on board. As the crew member brought the bag onto the deck, a loaded pistol inside the bag discharged. The ball went through the captain’s chest.

He died on board the Dana some hours later and was buried in the Sacramento City Cemetery.

California burial record for Nathaniel Lord.

Later that month, Frances gave birth to their fourth son, Samuel Veazie. It’s unclear when she received the news of her husband’s accident. A telegraph office was operating in Portland by then, but it wasn’t until mid-August that the Bangor Daily Whig and Courier, via letters and California newspapers, learned of Nathaniel’s untimely death.

In December, a Sacramento newspaper stated that Nathaniel’s half interest in the steamer was auctioned off under the direction of Henry Gilman, administrator of his estate. In those days usually the children of the deceased received two-thirds of their father’s estate, with one-third going to the widow. But Nathaniel’s children were all under the legal age of 21 and could not be given their inheritance outright.

Even though Frances was their mother, she was not named their legal guardian and apparently was not happy about it. Over a year later, in late November 1853, she finally appeared at a court hearing, and Judge E.G. Rawson granted her the guardianship. The following year, she handled two property sales in Bangor on her children’s behalf, stating in the legal documents when and by whom she was granted that authority.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s portrait was finally completed, the General’s town next to Bangor—named Veazie—was incorporated, and a new rector was serving at Frances’ church, the Rev. William M. Willian, originally from England.

The General bought the narrow gauge Bangor, Milford, and Old Town Railroad and renamed it the Veazie Railroad. Charles attended Norwich Academy in Northfield, Vermont, as his father once did, and the General built a house in his new town.

Frances, however, had an additional misfortune. Her 11-year-old daughter, Louise P., died in November 1854. “She was lovely in life and beautiful in death,” the gravestone stated. Louise was entombed—as was her grandmother and, at some point, her father after his death in California—in the General’s mausoleum at Bangor’s Mount Hope Cemetery.

A Modern Woman in Victorian Times

Samuel Veazie mausoleum, Mt. Hope Cemetery, Bangor.

Eventually Charles returned to Maine, working at a grocery store his grandfather owned, while the young rector at St. John’s left due to “ill health” with a plan to visit Europe. According to the city directory, Frances still resided at her modern house on Broadway. Her children were getting older, her future perhaps uncertain. Was she still as vibrant as ever, braving life as well as she seemed to before?

And then something rather surprising happened. On February 25, 1857, the General sold Veazie Wharf to Frances. She paid $50,000 for the lot and the buildings on it—about $1,615,740 in today’s currency.

Contemporaries described the General as a good friend to young men and his neighbors, a good husband, and a devoted parent. Did he sell the property at below value, at cost, or for a profit? Was Frances doing him a favor by securing him cash for another venture or did she buy the property to somehow shelter her wealth?

The following day, another puzzle took place. Frances married her former rector, William Willian. Although he had applied for a passport in February, 1855, he likely did not venture across the Atlantic but instead visited his mother, a lawyer’s widow, in Adams, MA. She died that October and had lived with his brother, a printer, and their two sisters. After her death, William became rector at a new Episcopal parish in western Massachusetts.

William Willian’s passport application in 1855.

Perhaps the 1856 marriage of William’s younger sister, Mary, to pharmacist Warren L. Alden of Bangor had something to do with it. Afterward, they lived at his parents’ house on French Street, next to the Stetsons. Did Frances’ calling cards come in handy as she welcomed the new bride? Was William visiting?

The last death closest to Frances had been three years past, her dealings with the court system had ended, her last child was five, and William was no longer her priest.

In December 1857, Frances and William welcomed their only child into the world. Grace was born in Maine, records indicated, but a specific day was never revealed. Where in Maine is still a mystery, and there’s no record of her birth in Bangor.

The 1860 census showed that, in addition to a husband and three-year-old daughter, Frances’ residence included daughter Susan with husband Edwin S. Farrar, a lumber businessman, and their son, two-year-old Edwin; sons Frank, Frederick, and Sami; and daughter Nettie. She employed Kata Gilligan, 45, of Ireland as cook, John Moriarty of Ireland as gardener, and Grace Robinson, 18, of Maine as domestic help.

Veazie Wharf and Dock became known as Willian Wharf during the heyday of Bangor’s dominance as a lumber exporter and ship producer. In a century when a woman’s property was normally transferred to her spouse after marriage, Willian Wharf remained under Frances’ ownership.

Cut Short

At some point, however, Frances became ill. Most likely it was not for an extended time. On April 16, 1866, she signed her last will and testament in front of witnesses. She died five days later, at age 48.

In her will, she left half of Willian Wharf to her husband. He was not given any other rights as a widower, and the rest of her estate was divided equally among her eight children. Apparently she trusted William, as he was named executor.

The following year, William became rector in Lewiston, Maine, eventually married a local girl, and moved to Brooklyn, New York, to another parish. His wife, Helen, died shortly after in 1870. He remained a widower for several decades, and Grace married in 1888.

William sold his wharf share to Charles and Frank in 1869, and in 1870, the European and North American Railway Company bought that property as part of its expansion.

Samuel Veazie.

Samuel Veazie, after living a long life, died in 1868, surrounded by family. He “bequeathed them a good name and probably the largest fortune in the state,” reports claimed.

His only daughter didn’t do too badly, either. A tribute, perhaps chosen by William, read, “A strong thread holding fast to many hearts has been broken.” She was apparently well-loved, and her determined and independent actions during difficult times, in a Victorian man’s world, must have made the General proud.