SUMMER ON THE SEA--SCHOOL AND DELLA’S ILLNESS AND TRIP ABROAD--PAPA
ELECTED GOVERNOR
We went to our summer home on Pawley’s Island in June, and oh! the
delight of the freedom of the life on the sea-beach after the city, and
the happiness of being at home. The bathing in the glorious surf early
in the morning--we often saw the sun rise while we were in the water,
for we were a very early household, and had breakfast at what would now
be thought an unearthly hour, but my father did a tremendous day’s work,
which could only be accomplished by rising before the sun. And we
children were by no means idle. We were required to read and write and
practise every day. Papa’s rules were strict: we could never go out to
walk or play on the beach in the afternoon unless we had done our tasks.
I was required to practise only half an hour, but it must be done. Then
I wrote a page in a blank book and showed it to mamma for correction.
She had me to write a journal of all that had taken place the day
before, instead of writing in a copy-book. I have one of the little old
books before me now, commonplace and dull, but it was a very good idea
for a child, I think. I must have acquired the diary habit then, for all
my life it has been a comfort to me to record my joys and my woes, when
they were not too deep. Then I read aloud to mamma from some classic for
half an hour, so I did not go wild during the holidays. Add to this that
papa did not allow us to read a story-book or a novel before the
three-o’clock dinner, so that I read by myself in the mornings Motley’s
“Rise of the Dutch Republic” and Prescott’s “Philip II”--only a little
portion every day, but there is no telling how much my taste was formed
by it.
There were three girls of my own age living on the island, and we met
and walked together every afternoon. Jane and Rebecca Alston were twins
and exactly alike; there was a tale that their most competent elder
sister had once given a dose of medicine to the well one when they were
lying in bed together, unable absolutely to tell one from the other.
This tale was a comfort to me, for though I was devoted to Rebecca and
did not like Jane, when we met I could not possibly tell which was my
friend until Jane showed her haughty nature in some way. They called
each “Sissy,” so there was no help from that. The third girl, Kate La
Bruce, was devoted to Jane and disliked Rebecca, but she was as helpless
at first as I was. They have all gone to the beyond before me.
Madame had occupied a house in Tradd Street, two doors east of Meeting,
that first year; but when we returned in October to school she had moved
into a very nice house in Meeting Street, with a delightful big garden
full of rose-bushes and violets--such a joy to us, for we could roam
about it during recess and in the afternoon. This year another boarder
of my own age arrived, Emma Cheves. We looked at each other with
suspicious scrutiny for a while, and then we became the most devoted
friends. Emma was my first friend and remained my best friend all her
life. It was a great grief when she passed away a year ago. She, like
myself, lived on a big rice-plantation, so we had much in common, only
her beautiful home was very near Savannah.
This winter my dear, sweet, beautiful sister, who never did anything
wrong and to whom all the teachers were devoted, was taken ill. It
proved to be inflammatory rheumatism, and she was desperately ill. At
that day trained nurses were unknown, and it seems a wonder that any
one ever got over a desperate illness, but they did. Madame moved Della
into her own large, airy room, and she nursed her herself, with the
assistance of one of our very good negro servants that papa sent down
for that purpose, and who was devoted and vigilant; and after a long
illness Della recovered. It was spring when she was able to leave the
room. The doctor advised a sea-voyage for her, and papa determined to
take mamma and herself abroad. My mother’s eldest sister, Mrs. North,
offered to take the younger children, with the nurse, Mary O’Shea, while
they were gone, to her home, Badwell, Abbeville district, the original
home of mamma’s people. This was very good of Aunt Jane, as it was quite
an undertaking, and for six months.
I do not remember the stay there with any pleasure, though my aunt and
cousins were very good to me. I was so miserable about those who had
crossed the ocean. I never expected to see them again. The only thing I
remember very clearly was dreadful. There was a big boy there who used
to tease me and laugh at me. Aunt Jane’s coachman, Joe, a very good man,
was ill all summer, and I got into the habit of asking to
[Illustration: MRS. R. F. W. ALLSTON (NÉE ADÈLE PETIGRU).
Portrait by Flagg about 1850.]
be allowed to take something nice from the dinner-table to him every
day, which seemed to please my aunt, and was the thing in the day that
gave me most pleasure. One day just before dinner-time this boy called
to me: “Come, Bessie, quick. Joe wants to speak to you.” I ran
breathless, right up the steps, into the room, up to the bed. Joe was
just in the agonies of death; a silver dollar hung over each eye--the
negro method of closing the eyes in death--his mouth open and teeth all
exposed with the last struggle for breath, and the terrible rattle in
his throat! No words can describe the effect it had upon me. Day and
night he was before my eyes, and the dread sound was in my ears. I
became really ill nervously, and they had to pet me and feed me up, and
dose me with stimulants.
I don’t remember anything more until I was back at home on the
plantation with mamma and papa and Della all there, and seeing the
lovely things they had brought for us. Then, too, I heard I was not to
go to boarding-school again, but was to live with the family in the
beautiful house papa had bought and given to mamma in Meeting Street,
next to the Scotch church.
Papa brought with him from Paris a beautiful piano mechanique. It was
an upright rosewood piano which could be played naturally like any
other, but when you closed the lid on the keys you could open the top,
and there was a tiny railroad-track on which you put wooden blocks about
one-half inch thick, eight inches long and four wide, and having wires
inserted into them much like a wool or cotton card. There was a handle
which turned and carried these little flat cars along the track, but it
took great skill to turn the handle evenly with the right hand and
adjust the little flat cars with the left hand so that they would touch
each other and make no break in the music. But dear Nelson, our head
house-servant, soon learned to do it beautifully, and it was the
greatest delight to him and he was ready to play all the evening. Now
that there are so many inventions to give music this does not seem
remarkable, but in 1855 it was most wonderful, and the greatest possible
joy. We heard all the most beautiful operas and classical music that we
never would have heard or known anything about. The music came in little
wooden boxes about two feet long and six inches wide and high. They
occupied a corner in the drawing-room, and when piled were about four
feet high and four feet wide. The dear little piano was moved during
the war to the interior where we refugeed, and it is still in the
family--very tired, but still sweet in tone. But the boxes of music were
lost during the war. I have often regretted it greatly, because it seems
to me it was quite as beautiful as any of the machines I have heard
since, and the collection of music was so fine. This piano cost $1,000
in Paris, besides the heavy expense of bringing it over to this country.
My sister took music lessons while in Paris from M. Lestoquoi, a
distinguished pianist, and made great strides in her playing; she really
was a beautiful musician.
My father was elected governor of the State the next year and as there
would be necessarily a great deal of entertaining in which Della would
have to take part, papa decided that it would be best for her not to
return to school, as it would be impossible for her to keep her mind on
her studies. So, though she was only sixteen, she left school. There
were balls and receptions and dinners, and though I had no part in them,
it was hard for me to study.
All my sister’s ball dresses came from Paris, and it was the most
exciting thing to see her dress for a ball. At that time they wore the
most beautiful artificial flowers, and I especially remember Della in a
frock of tulle--little pleatings from waist to floor of white tulle and
then pink tulle, and long garlands of apple-blossoms with silver stamen,
and a light garland twined in her smooth, glossy brown hair. She was a
picture, truly, and naturally she was a great belle and had many
suitors. She did not care for attention at all, and I think that only
made her the more attractive. She was not allowed to dance the “round
dances,” as they were called--the waltz, the polka, and the mazurka--as
only what was considered the fast set danced them; and a ring of
spectators would form round the room to watch the eight or ten girls who
were so bold as to dance them.
The proprieties were really worshipped at that time. I remember hearing
Della severely scolded for having answered a note from a young man
asking her to ride on horseback with him, in the first person. Poor
Della said: “But how else could I write, mamma?”
“You should have written: ‘Miss Allston regrets that she will not be
able to ride with Mr. Blank this afternoon.’”
Such a thing as driving with a young man was not possible, though at
that time all the men had fine horses and buggies. But my sister, being
a very good horsewoman, was allowed to ride occasionally with a young
man. Girls were not allowed to receive visitors without a chaperon being
in the room. Mamma found this part of her duty very trying, so I was
sent to study my lessons in the east drawing-room, where my sister
received her visitors; and I certainly enjoyed the situation, if no one
else did. There was a beautiful drop-light on the table by which I
studied at one end of the room. I always murmured my lessons aloud as I
swayed backward and forward, to give the impression that I was oblivious
to all but my book. But little escaped my ears. As a rule I thought the
conversation dull, but one night I heard the young man say, laying his
hand on the marble table beside them: “Have you ever seen any one as
cold as this marble?”
Della answered composedly: “No.”
Then he said: “I am looking now at one whose heart is just as cold.”
That rather pleased me, but as Della seemed bored he did not proceed in
that strain.
Charleston was very gay for a few weeks in the winter at that time.
There were three or four balls every week. Three balls given by the St.
Cecilia Society took place at intervals of ten days, for everything had
to be crowded in before Lent came. These were the most exclusive and
elegant balls of all; but the Jockey Club ball, which always ended the
race week, was the largest and grandest--not so exclusive, because it
included all the racing people. The races were the great excitement of
the winter. Every one went and every one bet. Gloves and French
sugar-plums came pouring in upon every girl who had any attention at
all, for that was the only time that a girl could receive any offering
from a man but flowers.
These last were terribly stiff bouquets made up by a florist, with rows
of trite roses and pinks and other flowers all wired on to a stick,
forming a pyramid with geranium-leaves around the base, surrounded with
a white lace-paper frill and wrapped in silver paper. My sister had one
suitor who had sense and, instead of sending these terrible stiff
pyramids, used to send her little reed baskets filled with little white
musk-roses picked by himself in his aunt’s garden. They were too
sweet--no stems--just a quart of little darlings that you could put in
your drawer, and be conscious of, every time you took a garment out for
weeks--and so recall the donor. Alas, he was killed early in the war.
This was Pinckney Alston, a gallant soldier and charming man. My father
was very anxious for Della to learn to sew, and she was at last spurred
to the point of making a frock for herself. Up to this time her only
achievement in the way of sewing had been when she was about fourteen
and we were at West Point for brother’s graduation. Our great hero,
General Robert E. Lee, then Colonel Lee, was superintendent at that
time, and paid Della a great deal of attention, and one day when he was
lamenting that he had no one to hem six new handkerchiefs, his wife
being absent, mamma suggested to my sister that she should offer to hem
them for him, which after much hesitation she did. She did not finish
all of them before we left, and sent them with a little note when we
reached home, and received from him the most charming letter of thanks,
which Della always treasured among her sacred things. The great success
of this venture with her needle seemed to have completely satisfied her
ambition, until papa, to whom she was perfectly devoted, roused her to
attempt and accomplish the great feat of the frock. I well remember her
appearance when she put it on for the first time. She was very proud of
it, and apparently perfectly content with it, but it was a sore trial to
me. To begin with, the color displeased me. It was a yellow cambric with
little black figures here and there. The skirt was very long and the
waist very short and tight; the sleeves were meant to be long but failed
of their intention, leaving about three inches of wrist unadorned. No
one liked to discourage her first effort by any criticism. She had
received from a young man the day before she first donned it, a note
requesting an interview alone at twelve o’clock, which had been granted.
It did not seem to excite her at all, but I was greatly excited, for
this was a very good-looking man, and I had never realized that he was
devoted to her, he was so quiet and undemonstrative; but I knew this
must mean something, it was so unusual. And I know if he had not been
the son of one of papa’s best friends, it would not have been permitted.
What was my horror, then, when I saw Della going into the drawing-room
to this fateful meeting in the yellow cambric frock with its inadequate
sleeves! The interview did not last very long, and Della was
sufficiently upset, when she rapidly went to her own room, to satisfy
even my ideas!
I did not ask any questions, but I gleaned from the family talk that the
young man had come to say good-by, as he was to sail for New York on his
way to Europe the next day. Just at the hour at which the steamer left a
beautiful pyramidal bouquet arrived in a handsome silver bouquet-holder,
with Mr. Blank’s card.