The City Hotel, now known as Gadsby's Tavern, is adjacent to Alexandria's Market Square,

After the British wartime occupation of of Alexandria during President Madison's unfortunate invasion of Canada, the Potomac port city that was personally surveyed and designed by George Washington was in tattered ruins. The September foliage of 1816 added burnt orange and earthy brown tones to the smouldering ruins along the port shores, a messy relic of British wartime occupation.

The British soldiers, who had arrived in a fleet of her royal navy's warships, seduced the girls in Market Square, drank the rum that was being stored in the warehouses, pilfered valuable naval supplies and smoked the Oronoco tobacco that was grown in its fields. They left behind a burnt husk of a port city, its treasures stoken and its honor bruised.

Fortunately, the British didn't wander too far west. The City Hotel, John Wise's prized accommodations adjacent to Market Square, remained standing amidst the destruction. The grand building was spared the rough treatment of military occupation. Every morning, the owner's wife took her place a the reception desk as the bandits of government and commerce mingled, signed contracts, argued border disputes, discussed cases before the bar and caught up on all the newspapers. Mrs. Wise was very concerned that the recent proliferation of public buildings, boarding houses and taverns were depleting the population of visitors to the damaged port city.

Across the Potomac, Congress was engaged in political bloodsport. Sen. John C. Calhoun and Speaker of the House Henry Clay had spent the summer forcing a tariff act to support the protective duties that had been implemented during the late war. As the summer ended, Washington was abuzz with the warm spirt of victory when a successful United States military expedition destroyed Fort Apalachicola at the request of Georgia's governor. Secretary of State James Monroe, who had recently been elected by the Democratic-Republican congressional caucus, was setting up an administration-in-waiting.

Meanwhile, on the fun side of the Potomac, shipping was minimal and things were slow. A full moon hung over Old Town Alexandria when a mysterious ship arrived. Two people emerged from the ship, a man and his wife. The couple made its way west on Cameron Street, toward the City Hotel.

The window of Room 8

Mrs. Wise immediately called for a doctor to look after the woman, who was obviously suffering from an extended stay at sea. Everybody in the tavern speculated that they arrived from the West Indies, a vermin-infested area that was infamously spread disease.
The husband and wife were shown to Room 8, where the woman's condition continued to deteriorate. Despite being attended by one of Alexandria’s doctors, an unlicensed practitioner who practiced the medical arts for one dollar per visit, the woman continued to grow sicker every day. Eventually, the husband summoned the doctor, hotel staff and even the owner’s wife to Room 8 to ask a very unusual request: He asked that everyone present swear an oath never to reveal their identities.

The bed in Room 8

All agreed, and each took the secret to the grave. To this day, we don’t know the identity of the man or the woman. The mystery is one of Alexandria’s most talked about, and the legend of the Female Stranger continues to this day.

Several days after the oath was administered in Room 8, the Female Stranger died. Her melancholy husband decided to bury her in Alexandria’s cemetery, which was then located beyond the southern boundary of town in Fairfax County. Her body was put into the earth of St. Paul’s Episcopal Cemetery, where it remains to this day. The tabletop grave had an elaborate engraving, which has caught the imagination of generations of Alexandrians who have wondered about its subject. Here is its language:

The grave in Old St. Paul's Cemetery

“To the memory of a
FEMALE STRANGER
whose mortal sufferings terminated
on the 14th day of October 1816
Aged 23 years and 8 months

This stone was placed here by her disconsolate
Husband in whose arms she sighed out her
latest breath and who under God
did his utmost even to soothe the cold
dead ear of death.

How loved how valued once avails thee not
To Whom related or by whom begot
A heap of dust alone remains of thee
Tis all though art and all the proud shall be

To him gave all the Prophets witness that
through his name whosoever believeth in
him shall receive remission of sins
Acts. 10th Chap. 43rd verse”

A wall sconce in the City Hotel's ballroom

The elaborate funerary was reported to be in excess of $1,500, quite a hefty fee even then. Several Alexandria businessmen, the sort for whom the extension of credit to refined gentlemen would be routine, were now owed a substantial amount. When they arrived to collect their due, they were astonished by what they found. Or better yet, they were astonished by what they did not find: the Male Stranger. The man had vanished, and he had not been seen since. Those who had taken an oath to keep the identity of the mysterious strangers secret did not divulge their secret, and even the guest registry had been scrubbed of references that might violate the sacred oath given before the woman’s death. Breaking an oath to the living is one thing, but disappointing the dead is quite another matter. And even in the face of capitalism’s most ugly moment, debt collection, the secret of the Female Stranger remained inviolate.

Many people have speculated about why this man and woman came to Alexandria, where they had come from and where they were going. Perhaps the most pressing question, even now almost 200 years later, is why they were so insistent that their identities be kept a secret.