Queen of the Confederacy: The Innocent Deceits of Lucy Holcombe Pickens

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: “There is nothing real about European society but its hollowness.” Lucy Holcombe Pickens (1860)

108 There is nothing real S ick with longing for home and feeling trapped in Russia, Lucy prayed that God would show her what was her duty. Not waiting for divine manifestation, she made up her mind on a Saturday in early December 1859 to leave in the coming week and take Tom with her. That Sunday night Francis became seriously ill. Two doctors attended him while he remained in danger. Frightened by his pallor and weakness, Lucy’s anxiety heightened—no word from home and now a seriously ill husband. Finally, on the eighth day of his illness, Francis was able to sit up, but for three long, weary weeks, Lucy continued to pray and worry. “Never, never,” she wrote her sister, “judge harshly of me for you cannot see or understand my situation. I have many faults and sins but I have none to answer for in regard to constant love and devotion to CHAPTER FOURTEEN 1860 “There is nothing real about European society but its hollowness.” Lucy Holcombe Pickens 109 1860 my home and, above all, I have no one even to speak to of all I feel. Do not think I complain of my lot. No, I will be a very happy one if I am spared to return with my husband and child to my mother and home.”1 While Francis recuperated, Lucy resumed her regimen of reading , writing, and study. She arose at eight and took breakfast with her daughter. Afterwards she studied her French and practiced her voice lesson. At eleven she made coffee for her husband’s breakfast and read the French paper to him. Weeks later, when he was able to leave for the office, she went for a drive with her baby or paid and received visits until six o’clock, when they dined.2 A comparative peace settled over the household. The pleasure Francis took in their daughter and his trustful worship of Lucy compensated for his irritating paternalism . With peace at the family hearth, he likened Lucy to the mythical water sprite, “Undine,” who attained a soul after she married a mortal and bore a child. No doubt Lucy smiled to herself for it was the kind and fatherly Rev. Henry Shultz at the Moravian Seminary who first called her by that name. When this homey regimen began to pale, Lucy turned to shopping . Always generous and thoughtful, she delighted in choosing gifts—slippers for her father, Theodore, Philemon, and Elkanah; boots, gloves, and clothing for her nieces; and nephews and fashionable articles for her mother, sisters Helen, Anna Eliza, and friends. To these boxes of gifts Lucinda added trinkets of ribbons and pictures which she called “trumpery” for some of the slaves, Anna’s children , and Helen. Lucy’s love and affection for her family are shown in the letter she wrote to her brother, Theodore, pretending it was from his niece, Douschka. My darling Uncle Fee— My Lulu has just received your pictures and I immediately began screaming for it, and will not let any one take it from me. You may think it strange but it is true. I suppose I knew you by instinct for Lulu and Cindy are constantly telling me of you and saying you would kiss me to death and etc. I dare 110 There is nothing real say you hardly realize that you have a little Russian niece, but I hope as dearly as you love my precious cousins, there is still a small corner of your heart in which I may nestle. It seems strange to Lulu to see me with dark hair and (as Cindy says real hazelnut eyes), but she says as I am not a Holcombe, but only a Pickens, it is not so important, and hopes however that you will not be so careless of consequences. I now sit up at the table in my little chair every day, and begin to take a half cup of tea. I am very good-natured and lively, and if you were to hear me laugh sometimes, you would declare it was my own dear grand-papa himself, to whom you must give a heartfull of love from his little granddaughter. I long to be tossed about in his arms like my Bev and Daughtie and Guy and to see Charlie and Earnest and all the wonderful people that I am sung to sleep about almost...