Nella Fontaine Binckley: "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter IV, Part 4

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter IV, part 4. 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.]

Aunt Sue was ten years older [seven years younger] than Mother, and one of the gayest souls I have ever known, bubbling over with high spirits all the time. Her favorite expressions were "Thunderation Broomsticks" and "Jerusalem Artichokes." Mother was more dignified, but had a keen sense of humor. 

We all liked the same brand of jokes. Aunt Sue told me that a few years ago there had been excessive rains one season. The convent was on the outskirts of town, and a stream flowed across the street where it stood. Owing to the rains this stream rose and flooded the convent, the young men of the town thought it a great lark (graceless scamps they were) to swim in and rescue the nuns, who were cloistered nuns, and not supposed to ever set eyes on a man except the Father Confessor, who as I remember him, was not much to look at.

Mother went back to the West [Chicago? or Milwaukee? -- M.J.B.] that Spring [1877? -- M.J.B.], taking George and May with her. As I was to go to Martha Washington College again in the fall, Grandmother wanted me to stay with her. So I did. We met some charming musical people that summer, who were named Hahr, and lived in Petersburg. They had entertained Old Bull when he had been in this country and said he was delightful. The pronounced his name to rhyme with dull.

Up in the foothills lived Polly Dinkins and her tribe. A strange group of creatures in human form, but with the reputation of being lower than the beasts of the field. They were said to live without laws or religion. Heathen. But missionaries found them inaccessible. Now and then Polly and one or two others would come down to the town with bundles of what they called light'ood. This was fat pine, full of resin, excellent for lighting fires. They sold it and the bought their simple supplies. I saw them once, women in sunbonnets and slinky calico dresses.

I remember a story I heard of the early days in Abingdon, when there [were] a few hostile Indians still about. One of the solid citizens of the town had become very bald earlier than he liked, so wore a wig. One day he had occasion to go into some adjoining woods, and went farther than he intended. Suddenly an Indian leaped out of the bushes at him, brandishing his tomahawk, and seized him by the hair. It came off in his hand, of course. Evidently the Indian had never heard of wigs. He stood there, transfixed, gazing at the wig in his hand, and exclaiming "Lie! Lie!" Meanwhile the gentleman escaped.

I [have] never been back to Abingdon since those days. But I still remember Orvelline, Grandmother's washerwoman. She was a nice, pleasant darkey, quite good looking, dark brown in color with the usual woolly hair. Her husband was white, a red headed Irishman from the old country. Their children were the funniest looking pickaninnies I ever saw. They were mullatoes, with blue eyes and red wool on their heads! 

[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).
Mother = Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930).
Aunt Sue = Sue Henry Mitchell/Michel Taliaferro (1845-1940).
George = George Sydney Binckley (1870-1940).
May = May Binckley (1875-1968). 

There are two Mary Dinkins' listed in the 1870 Federal census for Abingdon, one born in 1834 ("no occupation") and one born in 1857.

There is an Orvilline Brody (1848-1917) listed in the 1870 Federal census for Washington County, Virginia, married to Thomas Brody (1840-1924) with two children, listed as "mulatto."] 

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

Miriam Hartford Johnston (1857-1876). Source: Sue Davis.

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter IV, 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.]

That was a wonderful time for me. We were invited around continually by all the relatives and old friends. And such good things to eat! Everything of the richest. [They] never used lard, always butter. And always cream instead of milk. I think most of the old people had gout or something. But I suppose they thought it was worth it.

Some of them got up a costume concert that winter -- old time clothes and old time songs. All the attics were searched and fearful and wonderful bonnets, shawls, etc were brought out. Some of them had been there since Colonial days. I remember the incredible old poke bonnets, with the front brim projecting out beyond the face for a full foot. A huge black lace veil was worn with the bonnet. A draw string at the back drew it snugly around the crown, and it covered the whole bonnet and hung down the front nearly to the waist. Grandmother said they had been fashionable when she was a little girl, and she had longed to grow up so she could have the bliss of wearing one. 

One old lady whose husband had been Ambassador to Spain* dug up out of an old trunk a marvelous dress of pink and silver brocade which she had worn at court in Madrid. Cousin John's daughter [Miriam Hartford Johnston (1857-1876)] wore it to the concert and looked lovely. (Poor girl! She died at nineteen, the following year.) It was all a great success.

And there were many parties. Youngsters, in those days, did not make fudge. They had taffy pulls. They paired off, a girl and a boy, and pulled till the taffy was [white?]. Lots of fun, but sticky. However, there were plenty of servants to clean up afterwards.

And at home we always had the jolliest of times together. We usually spent most of the time at Grandmother's house. We always sung [sang] together a great deal at our sewing, or whatever we were doing. Aunt Sue's voice was small but very sweet and true. Mine was an ordinary soprano, but Mother's was a beautiful rich contralto, a lovely voice. We used to sing the songs of the day, Tosti's "Goodbye" and his other songs; the "Kerry Dance," that lovely song by Jean Ingelow, "Oh fair dove, oh, fond dove[,]" Gounod's "Sing, Smile, Slumber," which suited Mother's voice so well. And operatic bits, of course. All good music. We never liked what are called popular songs. (Somebody once said a popular song is one everybody comes to hate.) We sung [sang] any part -- soprano, alto, making it up as we went along, each having a good ear for music. Sometimes I sung [sang] alto, sometimes tenor and sometimes -- for the fun of it -- bass. An octave higher, of course. 

It was all so different from the hideous discordant music -- if you can call it music -- which we hear so much today. Then, if anyone flatted, or got off the key, it was looked upon as an unfortunate occurrence, [something] to be deplored. And the offender was considered a person who had best let music alone. Today, orchestras and bands deliberately play out of tune and off the key. I have a very keen and sensitive ear for music. I never regarded it as an affliction till the last few years. Now, it often causes me acute anguish.

[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).
Mother = Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930).
*William Preston (1818-1887), a nephew of Francis Preston (1765-1835) had served in this capacity from 1858 until 1861, but he lived in Kentucky. 
Cousin John = John Warfield Johnston (1818-1889). 
Miriam Hartford Johnston (1857-1876).
Aunt Sue = Sue Henry Mitchell/Michel Taliaferro (1845-1940).
Francesco Paoli Tosti (1846-1916).
James Lynam Molloy (1837-1909).
Jean Ingelow (1820-1897).
Charles-François Gounod (1818-1893).]

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

Martha Washington Inn, formerly College, formerly Preston House, in Abingdon, Virginia, 2006 (Wiki Commons)

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter IV, 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.]

Grandmother had a niece there -- the only niece she had -- the daughter of her brother Charles, Eliza Hughes. Uncle Charles had been in Congress and lived in Alexandria, across the Potomac from Washington. There was a night session of Congress one very rainy and [stormy] night, and Uncle Charles wanted to go over to the Capitol. In those days there were no bridges, only a ferry boat. And very dim lights at the pier. The boat was rocking on the rough waves and as Uncle Charles tried to step aboard, he mised the footing and fell in the river. In the dark and the storm they could not [find] him and he drowned. His wife was dead, so his little daughter was taken and brought up in a friend's family, that of Gov. [John Buchanan Floyd], Cousin Nicketti's father [brother]. 

Cousin Eliza had married Judge Hughes of Norfolk, where they lived in the winters. In the summers [they] stayed at their place near Abingdon, called Val Verde. We used to visit out there, as well as at Eggleston. I remember one time we [were] out there and Cousin Sally Floyd, who had brought up Cousin Eliza, and was of course an old lady, was also visiting there. She was strongly allergic to cats. So whenever she was there, the family cat was shit up in the corn crib. This was a small building outside, with slatted sides, where the dry corn on the cob was stored as feed for the livestock. One morning we were all at the breakfast table and suddenly Cousin Sally screamed and fainted dead away. Everybody knew exactly what had happened. Old Tom had gotten out of the corn crib somehow. Sure enough, he was happily coming in the door.

Mother had entered me at Martha Washington College, though I was very young for college. The building was a big rambling old house, formerly the mansion of the Preston family, cousins of ours who had gone out in the world years before. I was well up in most studies, was reading Virgil, and went into classes of girls older than myself.

Except arithmetic! Both Mother and Grandmother hated arithmetic, so it was slurred over at home. I had never gotten beyond the rudiments. Once in a while Father would ask if I knew the multiplication table. I never did. He thought that disgraceful (which it was) and I was put in a room and told that I must stay there till I learned it. At first I threw myself on the floor and bawled. But when I got good and hungry I would rise up, buckle down and learn it. Then I'd recite it glibly to Mother and be let out. When Dad returned from the office, again a glib recital. But a day or so later, it had escaped me utterly. Evidently I was not built for mathematics. So this had to be gone through periodically. At college I had to go into an [elementary] class with small children. Most humiliating. But my teacher very kindly offered to hear me recite after hours, so I could catch up. Soon I went into University arithmetic with my contemporaries. I crammed before exams and got through. But none of it stayed with me. Through life I have managed to keep my accounts straight because I had to. But it always takes agonized concentration, and at the moment death seems preferable.

The Cave House, 1857/58, built for Anna Liza Hickman Campbell*

We boarded at Mrs. Ann Eliza Campbell's house. (Everybody pronounced it Analiza.) In her back yard was the large entrance to a cave. There was a spring just inside and shelves had been put up and she used it as a springhouse, where she kept her butter, milk, etc. It was always very cool in the summer. One could walk back in the cave for quite a distance to a place where there was a well. Overhead an opening had been cut up into the back yard of a family living farther up the street, who used the well. It was [said] that if you looked up from the cave through this opening you could see the stars at midday.

[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).
Mother = Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930).
Dad/Father = John Milton Binckley (circa 1831-1878).
Eliza Hughes = Eliza Mary Johnston Hughes (1825-1909).
Charles = Charles Clement Johnston (1795-1832).
His wife = Eliza Madison Preston Johnston (1803-1828).
Hughes = Robert William Hughes (1821-1901).
Nellie is conflating John Floyd (1783-1837) with his son, John Buchanan Floyd (1806-1863), brother of Nicketti Buchanan Floyd Johnston (1819-1908).
Sally Floyd = Sarah "Sally" Buchanan Preston Floyd (1802-1879).
Martha Washington = Francis Preston house, 1832-1858; Martha Washington College, 1858-1935; Martha Washington Inn, 1935-present.
Prestons = Gone with the Wind, but not completely. 
Ann Eliza Campbell = Anna Liza Hickman Campbell, wife of Frank Campbell and daughter of Adam Hickman, who had the "Cave House" built for her (279 East Main Street, Abingdon) in 1858. 
*Cave House picture via Creeper Trail Info 2013. Link here ]

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

Peter Carr Johnston (image care of Peter Binckley via William Myers)

[Nella Fontaine Binckley, "Odds and Ends from an Artist's Life," Chapter IV, 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.]

After living in the cold among strangers, to come back to the South and beloved kinfolk -- it was heaven! And to live with mountains again! [Abingdon] was Grandmother's birthplace. It's a lovely little town on the Western edge of Virginia only ten miles from Bristol, which town sits astride the State line. One side of its principal street is in Virginia and the other side is in Tennessee.

The old Johnston family mansion, Panicillo [Panecillo], where Grandmother was born, stands on a hill a short distance outside the town of Abingdon. When my great grandfather, Judge Peter Johnstone [Johnston], died the place was sold, as none of his sons wished to stay in a small town. He had fought through the Revolution on the staff of Light Horse Harry Lee.

At the time we came to Abingdon from Chicago, all of Grandmother's brothers were dead but two -- Uncle Peter, who was living there in Abingdon, and Uncle Joe, who was but six years older [than] Grandmother and who was living in Washington.* Uncle Peter was one of the older brothers, and was a geologist. [They] had dropped the final e from their name and it was now Johnston.

Grandmother's nephew -- the only one she had -- was then in Abingdon, or rather, living in his place, Eggleston, a few miles out of town. He was the son of her oldest brother, Uncle John, and was three [closer to seven] years older [than] she! He had never called her aunt, but always Jane. Uncle John [Warfield Johnston -- M.J.B.] had married Miss Lou Bowen of Tazewell County, a great beauty and belle. He died at twenty-three [twenty-seven], leaving a widow of nineteen and a baby boy. Aunt Lou lived to be ninety-six [into her seventies?], but never married again. When we came, she was still living with her son, who was now Senator John Warfield Johnston, Jr. of Virginia. She was a lovely old lady, as she had been a lovely young one.

Cousin John had married a daughter of Governor John B. Floyd of Virginia. Among his valued friends, Gov. Floyd counted an Indian chief. When a baby girl was born, the chief asked the privilege of naming her. He gave her an Indian name, Nicketti, pronounced Nickettye. 

The Floyds were Catholics; his wife converted cousin John and he became a devout Catholic, so his large family were brought up in the faith. There was a convent in Abingdon and Coralie, Cousin John's youngest daughter, used to take me to see Sister Benedicta, of whom we were both fond. She was young and pretty and I often wondered what had made her take the veil.      

[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).
Mother = Mary Louisa/Louise Mitchell/Michel Binckley (1838-1930).
Dad/Father = John Milton Binckley (circa 1831-1878).
Lighthorse Harry Lee (1756-1818). 
Peter Johnston, Jr. (1763-1831).
Peter Carr Johnston (1793-1877).
*Joseph Eggleston Johnston (1807-1891) was living in Savannah in 1875. He lived there at 105 East Oglethorpe Avenue, with his wife (Lydia Milligan Sims McLane Johnston), from 1868 until 1876. He did live in Washington City later (and before the Civil War, also).
Dr. John Warfield Johnston (1790-1818).
John Warfield Johnston  (1818-1889).
Aunt Lou = Louisa Smith Bowen Johnston (1800-187?). Nellie's recollection suggests that she lived past 1873.
Nellie is conflating John Floyd (1783-1837) with his son, John Buchanan Floyd (1806-1863), brother of Nicketti Buchanan Floyd Johnston (1819-1908).
Coralie Henry Johnston (1861-1954) later served as a nurse and librarian. 
Sister Benedicta = Sister Mary Benedicta Fenwick, situated at the Villa Marie, Academy of the Visitation, in Abingdon. This institution was in operation here from 1867 until the early 1900s, when it was relocated to Wytheville.]