A Visit to the Home of Patrick Henry

Name/Title

A Visit to the Home of Patrick Henry

Entry/Object ID

77.145

Description

Essay written circa 1858 which mentions going by carriage to Red Hill to a wedding in December 1858. Six pages numbered, five pages of written content, incomplete and unsigned. Each paper bears the watermark "Joynson 1857."

Transcription

Transcription

A Visit to the Home of Patrick Henry It was a few days before Christmas in the year of our Lord, one thousand, eight hundred & fifty eight. The morning had opened upon us so gloomily, that the ladies had fairly given up the hope of going to the wedding. It was one of those enviable easterly days which alternate between hard, wringing showers & drizzling mists. We the gentlemen amused ourselves with indifferent success in the library, some with reading, some with meteorological predictions- & some in contemplating the gratifying contrast between the exasperating weather without & the roaring woodfire within. These various occupations were suddenly & agreeably broken in upon shortly after 12 oclock by a beam of genuine, unmistakable [crossed out: “glad, radiant”] sunshine which wonderfully brightened up the green holly in the garden & the old pine grove [crossed out: “woods”] which was visible from the window [crossed out: words unreadable] & fell with dazzling lustre on the ancient dark mahogany book-case which stood just opposite to the folding doors. This at once put a new aspect upon affairs. The ladies who had gone upstairs to unpack their trunks [page 2] were speedily summoned, & it was unanimously decided that the carriages should be immediately ordered. This 'the firstling of our heart' [crossed out: words unreadable] presently became [crossed out: words unreadable] 'the firstling of our hands', & a cold but excellent dinner having been dispatched, we were on the road. A long journey lay between us. By the most favourable calculation we could not get to Red Hill before night-fall. The roads were in a shocking state. The weather for the last two months had rivalled a tropical rainy season. Mud up to the hubs - pools of garbage and water - narrow rocky ascents - weary tracts of treacherous, if not impassable clay, to conclude with darkness & in all probability a cold, rainy night, was the flattering prospect before us. Nor were our auguries this time deceived. Maybe a clear sky & a genial sunshine cheered us for a while, a singularly thin, low, vaporous, swiftly moving, lurid looking cloud rapidly encompassed the heavens & burst upon us in a flood of angry rain which lasted about twenty minutes. It soon blew over, however, and our fancy was regaled and deluded for a time by the light of a rarely tinted rainbow spanning the entire hemisphere [page 3] After this the clouds quickly passed away, leaving [crossed out: “however”] only an ominous band all around the horizon. [crossed out: “Besides this”] With this exception all was sweet, ethereal, & tranquil. But- This one exception proved to be a fatal one. What [crossed out: “was”] seemed at first but a dark zone around the equator soon became a universal pall. The cloud which at first was scarcely bigger in some places than a man's hand, gradually increased & expanded till it Enshrouded the whole firmament. By this time it was dusk, & it was only by the silent pattering of the drops on our hands and faces that we knew it had begun to rain again. It had now evidently set in for a stormy night, & as the state of the fords was very uncertain, we began to look out anxiously for a shelter. This we soon aspied in the bright windows & busy chimneys of a wealthy planter, to whom for the sake of baffling all conjecture – I will give the nom de plume of Col. Yorick. Our case was soon made known to the hospitable Virginian, & you may rest assured we were entertained that night in a manner which might well have excited the envy of a lord. [page 4] The next morning our host galloped with us to the nearest bridge & stood watching us & waving his adieus, as we slowly climbed the opposite height. The weather had fortunately changed & was all that the most pragmatical epicure in such matters could [crossed out: “possibly”] benignantly have desired. The sun shone down upon us from a cloudless [crossed out: words unreadable] winter sky. A cool exhilerating breeze stirred the horses’ manes & sent the brood dancing to the extremities of every vessicle [sic] which was exposed to the air. The roads on this part of the way were decidedly improved. We fell in with pleasant company & began at last to encounter a little picturesque scenery. In short- Every thing was comue il faut. [page 5] Towards evening we began to approach the wooded [crossed out: words unreadable] slopes & meandering [crossed out: words unreadable] current of the Staunton River. It is a charming variation in the [crossed out: words unreadable] plain but undulating landscape. [crossed out: “Their part of”] Eastern Virginia is for the most part comparatively flat & tame, but this [crossed out: “part”] little corner of Charlotte County is an exception to the remark. There is something novel – though nothing bold or grand & fascinating in the prospect from any favorable point of view. The rolling hillsides on the river bank, along the Halifax lies covered with oak groves, apple orchards & [crossed out: “tobacco fields”] tender wheat; the long stretch of dark rich lowgrounds on Charlotte side; the immense tawny stubble fields beast high with their unknown coveys of partridge; the beautiful [crossed out: “planters”] country and seats perched on every commanding height, & the twinkling peaks of the Blue-Ridge a hundred miles away, make up a picture which is not soon forgotten & on which the mind of a painter [crossed out: “would”] might delight to dwell.

Language

English

Dimensions

Width

5-1/4 in

Length

7-3/4 in

Provenance

Notes

This essay is an account of an unknown author, written after December 22, 1858. The author was likely a guest at the wedding of Emma Cabell Henry (1838–1905) to James Boswell Ferguson III (1822–1896), who were married on December 22, 1858, by Rev. W. H. Kinkler. The “Lynchburg Virginian” reported on December 24, 1858, that “On Wednesday evening, the 22nd inst. by the Rev. W. H. Kinckle [sic.], JAMES B. FERGUSON of Richmond, to EMMA C., youngest daughter of John Henry Esq., of Red Hill, Charlotte county.” Emma Cabell Henry was born at Red Hill on February 14, 1838, as the youngest daughter of John Henry (1796–1868) and Elvira McClelland (1808–1875). John Henry was the youngest son of Patrick and Dorothea Dandridge Henry (1755–1831). Emma and James went on to have two children, Elvira Henry Ferguson (1859–1909) and James Boswell Ferguson IV (1861–1914). Emma and James lived in Lynchburg sometime around 1905, where she gave piano lessons for a time at the home of Ruth Early on 510 Main Street. Emma died on March 16, 1905, at “LaValle” in Goochland County, Virginia. She is buried at Byrd Presbyterian Church in Goochland County. Elvira “Ella” Miller (1850–1955), a great-great-granddaughter of Patrick Henry and granddaughter of John and Elvira McClelland Henry, gave a short biographical sketch of Emma Henry around 1945, writing that Emma's husband, James, served as a Confederate major during the Civil War and represented the Confederacy in France and England. Emma told Miller stories of “running the ‘Yankee’ blockade with a colored nurse and two children in a wooden ship to join her husband. They were pursued and escaped by the good fortune of a fog. She studied music at the Paris Conservatory and taught music for many years, her husband being 20 years her senior, it became necessary for her to support herself. She told [Miller] much of her life abroad and had some lovely things she bought there. She was extremely literary, her writing was rather too strained but her use of words bespoke her heritage. She was a very fascinating person and no one was too obscure or lowly to receive her best efforts. In fact, I do not think she could help being brilliant; her sense of humor was great. She had little patience with the obtuseness of her pupils and would turn her not considerable power of invective upon them. They were all afraid of her. In recital, she gave a brilliant performance. Like the children of many highly intellectual mothers, her children were not happy or successful.” This essay is believed to have been acquired by Red Hill around 1965. No donor information is provided.