Nella Fontaine Binckley: "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter VI, Part 2

Lynchburg, Virginia. Courtesy of the Lynchburg Museum System. 

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter VI, part 2. From a transcription annotated by Patricia D'Arcy Binckley of typewritten original, February 25, 2005. Original "written some time after 1941 by Nellie F. Binckley, 1860-1950 or 51." Notes in brackets are mine, unless followed by the initials "P.D.B." Occasionally, additional paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading. 

Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing a scan of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source.]

That summer I danced my first cotillion with a young fellow who belonged to an old and distinguished Philadelphia family. His name was Bert Smith and he was there with his mother and her sister, Miss Zell. He was always immaculately dressed and more soigne [soigné] than the Southern men, who considered that sort of thing rather sissy. They called him a dude. He was a very intelligent youngster, but affected some little mannerisms for the fun of it. One of the slang expressions of the day was to use the word tumble to signify understanding. For instance they'd ask, "Do you tumble?" Bert always said "Tumblez-vous?" He parted his hair in the middle. Sometimes a lock would fall over his forehead. He'd look up at it with great concern and anxiously inquire, "Which side does it belong on?" as if the fate of nations hung in the balance. When informed, he'd put it back in place with relief. The easygoing young Southern men, paying much less attention to dress than the elegant Philadelphian, used to regard him with wonder. In later years I heard he had become a distinguished University professor.

I never cared for red, though I admit it is a beautiful color. I've had but three red dresses in my life, and two of those were given to me. But I did have a red evening dress that summer. One of my friends there, Howard Morton, a brilliant young lawyer from Richmond, hated red. He didn't dare dance, but we were together a good deal during the day. He told me he'd never come near me when I had on that dress. Naturally that did not deter me from putting it on whenever I felt like it. Then he would stand at the ballroom door glowering in. I had never heard then of the psychology of color. But another man, who never took any special notice of me at any other time, always made a beeline for me if I had on that red dress.

The proprietor of the Springs liked my work so much that he commissioned me to paint a picture of the hotel. So when we left I had not only paid my own expenses for the summer but had money left over. I felt like a real professional.

Grandmother took a house just across a side street from a tobacco factory [in Lynchburg, Virginia]. And it was a delight to hear the darkies sing all day. [They] sung [sang] only their own music -- what are called spirituals today. Not one of them knew a note of music, everything by ear. Much of it they made up as they went along. A single voice would ring out, "Goin' up to glory," and the whole magnificent chorus, soprano, alto, tenor and voice would answer "Early in de mornin'," then a single voice again "Goin' up to glory," and the chorus, "Oh, we're goin' up to glory early in the mornin,' and we'll cross de river of death." 

One could not ask to hear finer music -- a glorious flood of harmonized voices, every tone true. It is no wonder that I writhe when I hear people murder these appealing spirituals today, for I have heard them sung as they should be sung. On the radio I have heard the beautiful simplicity of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" so smothered with frills and furbelows (mostly out of tune) that one can barely recognize it. One can turn off one's radio, but not a neighbor's. One can only suffer.

I got up a class myself, in drawing and painting, oils and water color. Cousin Sam Wingfield was mayor of Lynchburg at that time and extremely popular. Everybody loved him. He was well over six feet, and stout. He used to say that it was his ambition to weigh a ton.    

[Ellen/Nellie/Nella Fontaine Binckley (September 1, 1860-April 27, 1951). Family names and dates were whimsically tweaked by their owners during their lifetime, adding mystery and sometimes causing confusion. For Binckley's "Artist's Life," I'm opting for the full artist's signature name, Nella Fontaine Binckley.

Grandmother = Jane Johnston Mitchell/Michel (1811-1892).
Aunt Sue = Sue Henry Mitchell/Michel Taliferro (1845-1940).

Cousin Sam Wingfield = Samuel Griffin Wingfield (1846-1901).]

Nella Fontaine Binckley: "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter VI, Part 1

Alleghany Springs, Virginia, National Register of Historic Places. Photos by Skye Marthaler, 2013. (Wiki Commons)

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter VI, part 1. From a transcription annotated by Patricia D'Arcy Binckley of typewritten original, February 25, 2005. Original "written some time after 1941 by Nellie F. Binckley, 1860-1950 or 51." Notes in brackets are mine, unless followed by the initials "P.D.B." Occasionally, additional paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading. 

Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing a scan of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source.]

That [circa 1880] summer [Grandmother] and Aunt Sue took me to Alleghany Springs [Montgomery County, Virginia]. I was still in my teens and it was my first visit to a watering place. I enjoyed the hotel life immensely. The scenery was lovely and I made sketches.

I had not had my art education which Dad had planned. But I had worked hard by myself, studied good pictures, and learned to paint. 

When the proprietor of the Springs saw some of my sketches, he told me I could use a small room over one end of the bowling alley on the grounds for a studio. An outside stairway led up to it. That was delightful! My very first studio! And the guests began buying my little pictures.

It was hot and everybody used palm leaf fans. I painted some goldenrod on mine, and a lady asked me to paint one like it for her. Then I had a lot of orders for fans. A  gentleman wanted me to paint a portrait of his dog. I love dogs, and understand them, so it was a success. Another man wanted his beautiful pointer painted. And so it went. I was a professional artist after all. I never taught school again.

Meantime I was having a glorious time socially. Dancing in the ballroom every night (except Sundays, of course) and walks and talks with various gentlemen during the days. I always liked older men best. Dad had spoiled me for commonplace men. But I loved to dance, and as the dancing men were mostly youngsters I had to put up with them, but seldom wasted time on them in daylight.

General Jubal Early was there and was with Grandmother a great deal. He and Grandfather had been intimate friends. And he was also very fond of my great uncle, General Johnston. There were a great many Richmond people at the Springs, and among them were John S. Wise and his wife. They were almost ostracized as Mr. Wise was a Readjuster. I knew nothing of politics, and cared less.  So I had only a dim impression that there were some people -- mostly Republicans it seemed -- who wanted to readjust the State debt, whatever that meant. We were all Democrats, of course. Loosely speaking, most nice people in the South are Democrats, while most nice people in the North are Republicans. Six of one, and half dozen of the other.

One day Mr. Wise came up to my studio saying he had seen my portraits of the dogs and liked them very much. He was a great dog fancier, judge at dog shows, etc. He picked up a sketching board and on it drew a setter and showed me all the points. I remember he said the tail should have the curve of Saladin's scimitar. He was so nice and interesting that I forgot he was a Readjuster.

When I told Grandmother and Aunt Sue about it, they were shocked that "Johnny Wise" had come to see me. Bit I reminded them that a studio was really a public place. Anybody could come. I was desperately afraid, however, that if he came again and old General Early, who climbed up to my studio now and then should find him there, the fiery old general would probably throw him down the steps. But luckily Mr. Wise returned to Richmond [the] next day. The dog he sketched I named Readjuster.

One day I was out on a road near the Springs with my sketch box, looking for something to paint when along the road came a half grown darkey boy in the raggedest rags I had ever seen on any human creature. I showed him a quarter and told him I'd give it to him if he'd let me paint him. [He] looked longingly at the quarter but hesitated. Finally he say doubtfully, "What color you gwine paint me?" I hastened to assure him that I had no intention of whitewashing him or anything like that. When I made this clear, he joyfully consented.

There was a family at the hotel named Lamar, from Georgia. The two pretty daughters, one blonde, one brunette, had the most extraordinarily long hair down to the hem of their skirts -- which in those days meant down to the ground. We had a costume ball and they wore their hair loose, and were the sensation of the evening. I painted a small portrait of the blonde one with her hair down for Mrs. Lamar. They had peculiar names -- Elmira Edwita and Alberta Isolene. A married daughter was named Vallie Valeria. 

One of the guests was a cattle king from Texas named Colonel Spaight. He was said to own a million head of cattle. He had been coming to the Springs for years, and he was seventy but a very spry old gentleman, and even waltzed quite frequently and very well too, though there was a slight hitch now and then. Stiffness of the joints, I suppose. When we had the big ball of the season the General invited me to lead the Grand March with him. 

[Ellen/Nellie/Nella Fontaine Binckley (September 1, 1860-April 27, 1951). Family names and dates were whimsically tweaked by their owners during their lifetime, adding mystery and sometimes causing confusion. For Binckley's "Artist's Life," I'm opting for the full artist's signature name, Nella Fontaine Binckley.

Grandmother = Jane Johnston Mitchell/Michel (1811-1892).
Aunt Sue = Sue Henry Mitchell/Michel Taliaferro (1845-1940).
Dad = John Milton Binckley (circa 1831-1878).
Jubal Early (1816-1904) = hyper-racist proponent of "Lost Cause" mythology.   
Great Uncle Joe = Joseph Eggleston Johnston (1807-1891).
John S. Wise = John Sergeant Wise (1846-1913).
Lamar = most likely the family of Henry James Lamar (1925-1896) and Valeria Bethsheba Jones Lamar (1832-1895), which included daughters Valerie Lamar (1855-1916), Alberta Lamar (1865-1887) and Wileyna Lamar (1861-1927).
Colonel Spaight = probably Colonel Joseph Warren Speight (1825-1888).]

Nella Fontaine Binckley: "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter V, Part 3

Wheeler House, Lawrence County, Alabama (Library of Congress, 1935). Link here.

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter V, part 3. From a transcription annotated by Patricia D'Arcy Binckley of typewritten original, February 25, 2005. Original "written some time after 1941 by Nellie F. Binckley, 1860-1950 or 51." Notes in brackets are mine, unless followed by the initials "P.D.B." Occasionally, additional paragraph breaks inserted for easier reading. 

Many thanks to William Myers, Mary Davy, Sally Young and Sue Davis for their ongoing research collaboration; specifically to William for providing a scan of the original document, and in turn many thanks to Peter Binckley and Patricia D'Arcy "Trish" Binckley (1951-2007), at the source.]

When we got back to Knoxville that Fall, a friend of ours, Colonel Lockett, Commandant of Cadets at the University, told us that the famous General Joe Wheeler of Alabama had written him that he wanted a governess for his children. And would I like it? General Wheeler had been on the staff of Grandmother's brother General Joseph E. Johnston at the beginning of the Civil War [not accurate, but they served together later in the war], being just out of West Point. Uncle Joe was very fond of him. So of course I went to Alabama. They had their own station on the railroad, Wheeler Station. They were a delightful family and I spent a happy Winter with them.

As everyone knows, the General was a cavalry officer, and all the family rode as a matter of course. Each had his or her own saddle horse. The General had two. Mrs. Wheeler's was a magnificent white horse named Sam. He was extremely gentle with women and children, but he wouldn't let a man get on his back. I think the General found out after he'd had him for some time that he'd killed a man or two previously. He was delightfully gaited and had a fast pace as easy as a rocking chair. 

I was amazed at the riding of those children. They were little centaurs. To be sure, they had ridden from babyhood. The youngest, Carrie, was two years old and I often saw them put her on Sam's back and hold her there. There were always one or two horses saddled and hitched at the gate, so anyone could jump on whenever they felt like it. The horses were so glad to get away, that they always broke into a gallop the minute they felt anyone of their back. The family [never] rode any way except at a gallop anyhow. They took me riding of course. I loved horses and loved to ride when I had a chance, which had not been often. Among such superb riders, I was the merest amateur, but I could at least stay on a horse's back.

One day Joe had invited me to ride with him and we were on a dirt road running close beside the railroad track for a considerable distance. Suddenly we heard a train coming. I knew it would frighten our horses, so close to them. So I asked Joe what we should do with the horses. He replied at once "Head them into the fence." As the train roared past right behind them, the horses plunged in terror, but we kept their heads to the fence and in a moment the train was gone, and everything serene again. And Joe was only seven years old! I had no idea what to do, myself. But he knew.

Mrs. Wheeler was a very handsome woman, tall and blonde, large blue eyes, fair hair and the most exquisite complexion I have ever seen -- very fair with lovely color in her cheeks. She used to wear a plae blue house jacket that was very becoming. The General adored her. Her father, Colonel Jones and her brother owned the adjoining plantations and were often at the house, of course. Her brother was twenty years older than she, and they were the only children. So she had always been petted and indulged by both of them. And her husband and children carried on the tradition. I don't suppose that she ever had an ungratified wish in her life.

The General was small and dark, and very quick and active in his movements. Some years later, when the General was in Congress, one of the doorman at the Capitol, a Scotchman, always referred to him as "the little gentleman who aye rins when he walks."

The eldest child, Lucy, always called Birdie, was very competent though just entering her teens. She attended to the housekeeping and carried the keys. The second daughter, Annie, was about twelve. She and I were great chums. Julia was nine and we rather left her out as too young, to her great indignation. Carrie was the lordliest baby I ever saw. She was like a reigning princess. A tall young darkey man named June was Carrie's personal servant, toted her around on his shoulder and waited on her hand and foot all day. She had a nurse, too who dressed her, put her to bed, etc.

It was intensely interesting to hear the General talk about the Civil War. He forgot everything else and was living it over again. It probably meant more to him than to any of the other generals, because he was so young -- the youngest general in the Confederate army. He became a brigadier when still in his twenties.

There was a small schoolhouse in a corner of the grounds where the children and I spent our days. But we had time to ride a great deal. In those days all women rode sidesaddle and wore long riding skirts. In these days of universal cross saddle riding, it seems almost a miracle that women could ride well -- or at all -- in that lopsided manner. But those Wheeler girls! I remember once when Annie and I were out riding, galloping as usual, the surcingle holding Annie's saddle on became unfastened somehow. But she never halted for it, just galloped right on, balancing herself on that loose saddle with the ends of the surcingle flapping on either side, and sitting sideways at that!

She and I thought we'd like to try riding astride, just to see what it was like. Of course, we kept it a dark secret -- it would have shocked everybody. But one night we sallied forth on men's saddles and had a glorious ride. She wore a pair of the General's trousers and I had made myself a pair. Nobody ever knew about it.

The friendship begun then has lasted all our lives to this day. The Wheelers are my earliest and most valued friends since Mia died. She was my very first friend. 
  
[Ellen/Nellie/Nella Fontaine Binckley (September 1, 1860-April 27, 1951). Family names and dates were whimsically tweaked by their owners during their lifetime, adding mystery and sometimes causing confusion. For Binckley's "Artist's Life," I'm opting for the full artist's signature name, Nella Fontaine Binckley.

Grandmother = Jane Johnston Mitchell/Michel (1811-1892). 
Uncle Joe = Joseph Eggleston Johnston (1807-1891).

Colonel Lockett = Samuel Henry Lockett (1837-1891). His papers are here.

Joe Wheeler (1836-1906) and Daniella Ellen Jones Wheeler (1841-1896), daughter of Richard Jones (1793-1883). Their children: Lucy Louise "Birdie" Wheeler (1866-1924); Annie Early Wheeler (1868-1955); Ella Wheeler (1869-1871); Julia Knox Hull Wheeler (1870-1959); Joseph Wheeler (1872-1938); Caroline Peyton "Carrie" Wheeler (1877-1953); and Thomas Harrison Wheeler (1881-1898).

For more on Annie Early Wheeler, see Dear Mrs. Wheeler here. Nella apparently made at least one poster featuring her in Red Cross uniform. 

For more on Pond Spring, Hillsboro, Alabama, see this link.

Mia = Euphemia/Mia Alberta Suverkrop (circa 1859-1939).]  

"Mrs. Binckley's Entertainment." Knoxville, Tennessee: May 13, 1879

Mrs. Binckley's Entertainment. [Mary Louisa Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930)]

The following is the Programme of the Entertainment to be given at Staub's Opera House, on Tuesday evening, May 13, 1879, under the direction of Mrs. M. L. Binckley.

1. Piano solo . . . . . Jas. R. Cocke
2. Scene from "Midsummer Night's Dream." [Fairy Queen and Attendants.]
3. Comic Character Song . . . . . Miss Bettie Bates.
4. Serenade and Tableau.
5. Dream of Dark and Bright Angels.
6. Comic Duett an Hundred Years Old . . . Miss Kirkpatrick: Mr. Rule
7. The Model Husband [Laughable Farce.]
CHARACTERS.
Mr. Simon Shanky . . . . . Mr. John Baxter.
Mr. Sampson Shanky . . . . . Mr. John Rule.
Mr. Fitz Blazington . . . . . Jasper Curtis.
Mrs. Shanky . . . . . Miss Binckley [Nellie Binckley].
Mrs. Mannington . . . . . Miss Hampton.
[Mother-in-law.]
8. Gipsy Chorus, Song and Dance.
9. Solo: "Merry Maid," . . . . . Miss Mattie McCambell.
Chorus Solo . . . . . Miss Bettie Bates.

From: Knoxville Daily Chronicle. (Knoxville, Tenn.) 1870-1882, May 13, 1879, page 4. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Library of Congress. Link here.

Note: Staub's Opera House (pictured above), also known as Staub's Theatre and later as the Lyric Theatre, was built under direction of Peter Staub (1827-1904), Mayor of Knoxville, in 1872, and lasted until the 1950s. 

From Federal Census, 1880, there was some kind of small boarding school, probably conducted by Jane Mary Wood Johnston Mitchell/Michel (1811-1892).

Family 15 Hugh, High or Gay Street, Knoxville, Tennessee:
Michel, J.W. 68 Boarder Keeping house
Taliaferro, Susie, 35 Boarder
Taliaferro, Penuel [probably Bennet] 11 gd. son At school
Lilli J., 21 gd. daughter Teacher
Binkle[y] Nellie 19 gd daughter
White, Samuel 19 Boarder Student
White, J. H. 15 Boarder Student
Young, W. B. 19 Boarder Student
Watkins, O. [D.?] C. 21 Boarder Student
Hunt, J. W. 21 Boarder Student
Killough, Jesse 15 Boarder Student
Graham, Ann 37 Black servant / Cook
Graham, Teressa 8 Black / School

Which makes one wonder: where was Mary Louisa Mitchell/Michel Binckley at the time of the 1880 Census? John Milton Binckley, her husband, had died in Milwaukee on May 4, 1878. Given misspellings of names, more may be revealed at some point once figured out. There is an anomaly here, also: Lilian Johnston Taliaferro was only a child at the time, not 21. 

[Sue "Susie" Henry Michel Taliaferro (1845-1940)
Bennett Crawford Taliaferro (1868-1943)
Lilian Johnston Taliaferro (1877-1965)
Nellia (Nella) Fontaine Binckley (1860-1951)]