Fifty-Two, It Begins

Fifty-Two

It Begins...

29 June 1824

I did not sleep very well last night.  It was hot, and I felt every lump in my little cot, but mostly it is due to worry.  For I have not heard from John since Sunday and although my heart tells me to trust him, I do worry that what we talked about has given him pause and caused him to not wish to enter into further discourse.

My little spot next to the hearth is comfortable enough, although it is not what I am used to at home.   I rather miss how things used to be, with my sisters and I in our little room and my writing desk nearby.  I suspect that it shall never be like that again.

Charlotte is able to do very little other than get out of bed to use the chamber pot.  She is ill most of the time now, and the herbs that Susie gave to Warner for her are to no effect.  And to think we have another five or six months to go of this!

Little Thomas has not come to stay with us yet, his father not yet being willing to part with him.  But the offer of at least a little bit of an education may entice him soon.  Or perhaps I shall ride over to Daniel's house from time to time in order to tutor.  But for now, I am more needed here for the care of Charlotte; she sleeps right now so I am able to write.

I have said before that I did not want to tell Father's secret anywhere, including writing in this journal.  But I have come to the conclusion that I need not be held by such a promise.  It is one that has been disturbing my sleep ever since he told me.   And I do not feel beholden to Father any longer.  It is too much of a burden.

Perhaps I shall just relate what I said to John. 

It was very hard to begin speaking the other day.  We were walking the path next to the river, having already parted company with Nan and Joseph, and the anticipation built up from the morning was becoming unbearable.

I started slowly.  I explained again about the circumstances of my parents' divorce, but this time I went into a little more detail.  I told John that Father has been known to hit Mother from time to time, always after drinking.  I told him that Mother sometimes did not know when to stop in her angry tirades, especially when she knew that it would not end well. 

Through the years, my brothers and sisters have had different ways of dealing with my parents' fighting.  John, the eldest, missed most of the fighting, for it did not start in earnest until he was already married and established in a separate home.  My brother Josiah was still at home when things became worse, but he was gone most of the day.  His life was one of fancy and pleasure, or so it seemed to me, because he taught dancing to fine ladies, receiving their various favours one way or another.   He was not at home when the worst incidents occurred, and often never heard of them, for the younger children of us never discussed what it is that we saw and heard.

My sister Elizabeth reacted by marrying the first gentleman who paid attention to her, Alexander Wilkinson, an Irishman very recently come to America.  She was gone and out of the house at eighteen.  It was shortly after her marriage that the worst problems occurred; I believe that it was her marriage that sparked more than one argument between my parents.

My brothers Daniel and Warner worked in the fields from a young age.  My  father believed that they should know hard work early on, given that the older siblings, save John, were a disappointment.  They were thus out of the house during the day and early evening, and at night, the boys were known to be a bit mischievous, playing pranks and chasing after the girls whenever they could.  They both left their education behind at age twelve and eleven, respectively.  When at home, these two seemed to be able to go about their business, paying no attention to what was going on with my parents, or so it seemed.

This left me, my younger brother TJ, and my two younger sisters at home and in the way of my parents' disastrous encounters.  I speak of my parents as though they were equally to blame; but my father's transgressions are far, far worse.   I suppose that my mother had some spunk to stand up to my Father.  When she was in the worst of trouble, she knew that she could go to her brother, my Uncle John Elmore, and that the latter would protect her.  She did this on occasion.  More than once, I heard my uncle plead with her to leave her worthless husband, but she would decline.

TJ and the girls were four years and more younger than me, and for the most part, they did not understand  the fights my parents had.  I suspect neither of my two sisters, who were two and four when all the trouble started, remember anything.  My brother was six when it had escalated, and seven when the worst incident occurred, at least while my parents were still living together.  For it is what happened later that my brother TJ will never be friendly with my father again.

So now, we are at the crux of it, I suppose.  John up to this point was listening very understandably.  We had reached a point where we sat upon some large, smooth rocks next to the river.  John was able to hold my hands only for a brief moment, for I withdrew them.  In order to get through what followed, I suppose I gestured and flailed about a little, and also broke into tears and needed a handkerchief, which activities left my hands always in motion.

Now, proceeding chronologically, I took a few deep breaths, and then continued. 

I told John how there was one night when Father came home, quite drunk.  My mother began berating him for being in such a condition, and he blamed her for driving him to drink.  He spoke of some kind of intermeddling she had done in a neighborhood matter, and he told her she needed to mind her own business.  My mother argued with him on this point. 

Susie, and all of us younger children were in the downstairs gathering room where we take our meals and do most of our social activities, and this part of the fight, which had started in another room, came into the gathering room.  What happened next is rather vague to me, for I did not see everything, with my mother and the table between me and Father and Susie.  What I do remember is Father grabbing Susie by the breasts and kissing her and biting her neck.  I believe now, as an adult, that he was doing this to further anger my mother, for he called her unkind names and told my mother that he could do whatever it was that he wanted. 

I remember somehow that my father drew a knife and threatened to kill my mother, and that my mother took Patsy, who was still being carried about, and left.   I know now that my mother had gone to Uncle John's house and had told him about the fight.  I know also that Uncle came back to the house and demanded that my father leave it, which he did do.  I know that my sister Elizabeth was summoned, as were all of my siblings, and that my mother stayed with Uncle for two weeks, whilst Elizabeth stayed at home with us younger children.  The other siblings dispersed, returning to whatever it was they were doing.

I know that during those two weeks that Father came by the house from time to time, and I believe that he stayed the night more than once.  I know that when Mother came back home,  Father was waiting for her.  He begged for her forgiveness, but when it was not forthcoming, and she attempted to leave, he held onto her.  They fought indoors and out, my mother trying to leave, my father not allowing her to.  Mother finally was able to flee.  A few hours later, some men came to the house, spoke to Father, gave him some papers, and Father left.  I now know that my Father had a bill of divorcement served against him, and an order that he vacate the house.

Without going into further details of the divorce, I told John that what was testified to by members of the family and several others was enough for the extraordinary provision that the guardianship of us three girls was given to my mother, along with an order for alimony and for the education and board of us girls.  This is something that is almost never done, from what I have been told.  The boys were not the subject of the orders, for it is my understanding that guardianship of boys is never discussed when the father is still living, notwithstanding the circumstances.

At this point, I paused.  I had gotten through this much of the discussion without tears, relating the events somewhat dispassionately, as though they happened to someone else.  John looked at me with kindness and compassion, reaching over to squeeze my arm from time to time. 

He told me that this was such a terrible thing for all of us to have experienced, not only when it happened, but for the many years to come, for the matter had been made public which must have caused shame to us.  I nodded.  And then told him that the story does not end there, for it is what I have learned from my Father and from TJ that has demonstrated to me circumstances  for which I can presently find no forgiveness.