CAPT. FRISBIE--WEDDING FESTIVITIES--THE MASTERPIECE OF GRANDMA'S
YOUTH--SEÑORA VALLEJO--JAKIE'S RETURN--HIS DEATH--A CHEROKEE INDIAN WHO
HAD STOOD BY MY FATHER'S GRAVE.
Captain Frisbie spent much time in Sonoma after Company H was
disbanded, and observing ones remarked that the attraction was Miss
Fannie Vallejo. Yet, not until 1851 did the General consent to part
with his first-born daughter. Weeks before the marriage day, friends
began arriving at the bride's home, and large orders came to grandma
for dairy supplies.
She anticipated the coming event with interest and pleasure, because
the prolonged and brilliant festivities would afford her an
opportunity to display her fancy and talent in butter modelling. For
the work, she did not charge, but simply weighed the butter for the
designs and put it into crocks standing in cold water in the adobe
store-house where, in the evenings, after candle-light, we three
gathered.
Her implements were a circular hardwood board, a paddle, a set of
small, well pointed sticks, a thin-bladed knife, and squares of white
muslin of various degrees of fineness. She talked and modelled, and we
listening watched the fascinating process; saw her take the plastic
substance, fashion a duck with ducklings on a pond, a lamb curled up
asleep, and a couched lion with shaggy head resting upon his fore-paws.
We watched her press beads of proper size and color into the eye
sockets; skilfully finish the base upon which each figure lay; then
twist a lump of butter into a square of fine muslin, and deftly
squeeze, until it crinkled through the meshes in form of fleece for the
lamb's coat, then use a different mesh to produce the strands for the
lion's mane and the tuft for the end of his tail.
In exuberant delight we exclaimed, "Oh, grandma, how did you learn to
make such wonderful things?"
"I did not learn, it is a gift," she replied.
Then she spoke of her modelling in childhood, and her subsequent
masterpiece, which had won the commendation of Napoleon and Empress
Josephine.
At that auspicious time, she was but eighteen years of age, and second
cook in the principal tavern of Neuchatel, Switzerland. Georgia and I
sat entranced, as with animated words and gestures she pictured the
appearance of the buglers and heralds who came weeks in advance to
announce the date on which the Emperor and Empress would arrive in that
town and dine at the tavern; then the excitement and enthusiastic
preparations which followed. She described the consultations between
the _Herr Wirth_ and the _Frau Wirthin_ and their maids; and how,
finally, Marie's butter-piece for the christening feast of the child of
the Herr Graf was remembered; and she, the lowly second cook, was told
that a corner in the cellar would be set apart for her especial use,
and that she should have her evenings to devote to the work, and three
_groschen_ (seven and a half cents) added to her week's wages, if she
would produce a fitting centrepiece for the Emperor's table.
Five consecutive nights, she designed and modelled until the watchman's
midnight cry drove her from work, and at three o'clock in the morning
of the sixth day, she finished. And what a centrepiece it was! It
required the careful handling of no less than three persons to get it
in place on the table, where the Emperor might see at a glance the
groups of figures along the splendid highway, which was spanned by
arches and terminated with a magnificently wrought gateway, surmounted
by His Majesty's coat of arms.
We scarcely winked as we listened to the rest of the happenings on that
memorable day. She recounted how she had dropped everything at the
sound of martial music and from the tiny open space at the window
caught glimpses of the passing pageant--of the royal coaches, of the
maids of honor, of Josephine in gorgeous attire, of the snow-white
poodle snuggled close in the Empress's arms. Then she told how she
heard a heavy thud by the kitchen fire, which made her rush back, only
to discover that the head cook had fallen to the floor in a faint!
She gave the quick call which brought the Frau Wirthin to the scene of
confusion, where in mute agony, she looked from servant to servant,
until, with hands clasped, and eyes full of tears, she implored,
"Marie, take the higher place for the day, and with God's help, make no
mistake."
Then she went on to say that while the dinner was being served, the
Emperor admired the butter-piece, and on hearing that it was the work
of a young maidservant in the house, commanded that she be brought in
to receive commendation of himself and the Empress. Again the Frau
Wirthin rushed to the kitchen in great excitement, and--knowing that
Marie's face was red from heat of the fire, that she was nervous from
added responsibilities, and not dressed for presentation--cried with
quivering lips:
"Ah, Marie! the butter-piece is so grand, it brings us into trouble.
The great Emperor asks to see thee, and thou must come!"
She told how poor, red-faced, bewildered Marie dropped her ladle and
stared at the speaker, then rolled down her sleeves while the Frau
Wirthin tied her own best white apron around her waist, at the same
time instructing her in the manner in which she must hold her dress at
the sides, between thumb and forefinger, and spread the skirt wide, in
making a low, reverential bow. But Marie was so upset that she realized
only that her heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and her form
shaking like an aspen leaf, while being led before those august
personages. Yet, after it was all over, she was informed that the
Emperor and Empress had spoken kindly to her, and that she, herself,
had made her bow and backed out of the room admirably for one in her
position, and ought to feel that the great honor conferred upon her had
covered with glory all the ills and embarrassments she had suffered.
To impress us more fully with the importance of that event, grandma had
Georgia and me stand up on our cellar floor and learn to make that
deferential bow, she by turns, taking the parts of the Frau Wirthin,
the Emperor, and the Empress.
She now finished her modelling with a dainty centrepiece for the
bride's table, and let me go with her when she carried it to the
Vallejo mansion. It gave great satisfaction; and while the family and
guests were admiring it, Señora Vallejo took me by the hand, saying in
her own musical tongue, "Come, little daughter, and play while you
wait."
She led me to a room that had pictures on the walls, and left me
surrounded by toys. But I could not play. My eyes wandered about until
they became riveted on one corner of the room, where stood a child's
crib which looked like gold. Its head and foot boards were embellished
with figures of angels; and a canopy of lace like a fleecy cloud
hovered over them. The bed was white, but the pillows were covered with
pink silk and encased in slips of linen lawn, exquisite with rare
needlework. I touched it before I left the room, wondering what the
little girl dreamed in that beautiful bed; and on the way home, grandma
and I discussed all these things.
The linen pillow-slips were as fine as those Señorita Isabella Fitch
showed me, when she gave me the few highly prized lessons in simple
drawn-work; and her cousin, Señorita Leese, had taught me hemming.
These young ladies were related to the Vallejos and also lived in large
houses facing the plaza, and were always kind to Georgia and me. In
fact, some of my sweetest memories of Sonoma are associated with these
three Spanish homes. Their people never asked unfeeling questions, nor
repeated harrowing tales; and I did not learn until I was grown that
they had been among the large contributors to the fund for the relief
of our party.
I have a faint recollection of listening to the chimes of the wedding
bells, and later, of hearing that Captain Frisbie had taken his bride
away; but that is all, for about that time dear old Jakie returned to
us in ill health, and our thoughts and care turned to him. He was so
feeble and wasted that grandma sent for the French physician who had
recently come among us. Even he said that he feared that Jakie had
stayed away too long. After months of treatment, the doctor shook his
head saying: "I have done my best with the medicines at hand. The only
thing that remains to be tried is a tea steeped from the nettle root.
That may give relief."
As soon as we could get ready after the doctor uttered those words,
Georgia and I, equipped with hoe, large knife, and basket were on our
way to the Sonoma River. We had a full two miles and a half to walk,
but did not mind that, because we were going for something that might
take Jakie's pains away. Georgia was to press down the nettle stems
with a stick, while I cut them off and hoed up the roots.
The plants towered luxuriantly above our heads, making the task
extremely painful. No sooner would I commence operations than the
branches, slipping from under the stick, would brush Georgia's face,
and strike my hands and arms with stinging force, and by the time we
had secured the required number of roots, we were covered with fiery
welts. We took off our shoes and stockings, waded into the stream and
bathed our faces, hands, and arms, then rested and ate the lunch we had
brought with us.
As we turned homeward, we observed several Indians approaching by the
bushy path, the one in front staggering, and his squaw behind, making
frantic motions to us to hurry over the snake fence near-by. This we
did as speedily as possible, and succeeded none too soon; for as we
reached the ground on the safe side, he stopped us, and angrily
demanded the contents of our basket. We opened it, and when he saw what
it contained he stamped his wabbling foot and motioned us to be off. We
obeyed with alacrity, for it was our first experience with a drunken
Indian, and greatly alarmed us.
The tea may have eased Jakie's pain, but it did not accomplish what we
had hoped. One morning late in Summer, he asked grandpa to bring a
lawyer and witnesses so that he could make his will. This request made
us all move about very quietly and feel very serious. After the lawyer
went away, grandma told us that Jakie had willed us each fifty dollars
in gold, and the rest of his property to grandpa and herself. A few
weeks later, when the sap ceased flowing to the branches of the trees,
and the yellow leaves were falling, we laid Jakie beside other friends
in the oak grove within sight of our house.
Grandma put on deep mourning, but Georgia and I had only black
sun-bonnets, which we wore with heartfelt grief. The following Spring
grandpa had the grave enclosed with a white paling; and we children
planted Castilian rose bushes at the head and foot of the mound, and
carried water to them from the house, and in time their branches met
and the grave was a bed of fragrant blossoms.
One day as I was returning from it with my empty pail, a tidy,
black-eyed woman came up to me and said,
"I'm a Cherokee Indian, the wife of one of the three drovers that sold
the Brunners them long-horned cattle that was delivered the other day.
I know who you are, and if you'll sit on that log by me, I'll tell you
something."
We took the seats shaded by the fence and she continued with
unmistakable pride: "I can read and write quite a little, and me and
the men belong to the same tribe. We drove our band of cattle across
the plains and over the Sierras, and have sold them for more than we
expected to get. We are going back the same road, but first I wanted to
see you little girls. I heard lots about your father's party, and how
you all suffered in the mountains, and that no one seems to remember
what became of his body. Now, child, I tell the truth. I stood by your
father's grave and read his name writ on the headboard, and come to
tell you that he was buried in a long grave near his own camp in the
mountains. I'm glad at seeing you, but am going away, wishing you
wasn't so cut off from your own people."
So earnest was she, that I believed what she told me, and was sorry
that I could not answer all her questions. We parted as most people did
in those days, feeling that the meeting was good, and the parting might
be forever.