When we reached Charleston we were met at the station by Dr. Sam. Dickson’s carriage, with its very gentlemanly negro coachman, who had been sent for Flinn and ‘the lady.’ So I said good-bye to kind Mrs. John Dickson, and, driving softly along to a large old-fashioned house, surrounded by a garden full of tall evergreens, I entered a spacious hall and was welcomed by Dr. Sam. and Mrs. Dickson and their eldest daughter, and ushered into a handsome drawing-room, cloak, hood, smoke, and all.
Dr. Samuel H. Dickson, who thus hospitably welcomed me, was a distinguished physician of Charleston and professor in the Medical College of that town. He gave me kind encouragement in relation to my medical studies. Through his influence I soon obtained a position as teacher of music in the fashionable boarding-school of Mrs. Du Pré (a connection of the Doctor), where I taught for some hours every day, spending all my spare time in pursuing the medical studies which Dr. Dickson directed. Every morning a couple of hours were devoted before breakfast to learning the necessary rudiments of Greek (for I had only so far been acquainted with Latin).
The boarding-school occupied a fine old-fashioned mansion. The noble drawing-room, with its numerous windows overlooking the bay, was the scene of my teaching duties.
When they were over, many quiet hours were passed in that pleasant room, studying the medical books which the Doctor supplied from his library.
The severe duties of teaching and study were occasionally varied by larger interests, such as hearing a very able (though erroneous) oration on States’ Rights, by Calhoun; or the more carnal pleasure of a visit to a banana plantation.
John C. Calhoun’s address, given to the enthusiastic meeting which crowded the theatre, was noteworthy. The contrast between the calm, able orator, who appeared entirely unmoved by the rapturous demonstrations of his audience, who responded to every point in his clever but measured oratory, resembled the effect produced in our later day by the able statesman Parnell, who dominated his ardent Irish followers by a similarly contrasted mental constitution. The influence of this able statesman, John C. Calhoun, was largely instrumental in causing the Civil War in America.
The following familiar home letters indicate some of the varieties in the Charleston life:—
Charleston: January 30, 1847.
Now, dear M., for a comfortable Sunday afternoon chat with you, after a long—it seems to me a very long—silence. I’ve just replenished my body with a comfortable portion of our regular Sunday dinner—viz. ham, fowl, sweet potatoes, and macaroni—of which last I’ve grown particularly fond, and now, wrapped in my blanket-shawl, I sit with my feet on the fender, over the embers of the parlour fire, and, as the girls are at church and only good Miss B. in the room, I hope for a nice long quiet time. But I must tell you of a great musical treat I’ve had, really the highest pleasure in that way that I ever remember; no less than two concerts by Herz and Sivori. I never have been so affected by music before; yet the first concert made me sad, homesick, and discontented. I felt as I do after reading a powerful novel of Bulwer’s. It was Sivori’s violin that produced so strange an effect. Herz was a smooth, brilliant pianoforte player, with considerable superficial talent, nothing more; but Sivori has genius. His playing bewildered me; I did not understand it. It seemed to me like a chaos that might become a world of beauty could I only find the word that should reduce it to order. I went home unhappy and indignant at being obliged to pass life in such a stupid place, amongst such stupid people, where is neither beauty, nor intelligence, nor goodness. The next concert it went better with me. I sat near the platform immediately in front of Sivori, and examined his countenance, which certainly renders his performance clearer. He is very small, his head large for his body, a fine forehead, grand eyes, a stiff, sober manner, and occasional half-suppressed smile that reminded me continually of Ellery Channing. The first piece, ‘Il Campanello’ of Paganini, was a gem; the solemn, subduing adagio, with a wild, striving conclusion, and the little clear silver bell coming in continually, like an angel’s voice in the conflict of good and bad spirits. Then his prayer from ‘Moïse,’ performed on one string, was the most devout music I ever listened to. I felt as if I were worshipping in an old cathedral at twilight, and I shut my eyes not to destroy the illusion by the expressionless concert-room and faces all round. The duet between Herz and Sivori was grand, both parts were so perfect. I went to the concert with a prejudice against Herz, from knowing his very bad moral character; but his playing is very brilliant, though he is far from being a De Meyer. He has the most self-satisfied expression in his mouth, which, as a gentleman remarked, ‘seems to be going to eat his ears,’ it is so large. He was recalled after one of his pieces, and said, smiling, ‘I will play you a piece which I composed, since I am in Charleston. It is called “Souvenir de Charleston.”’ ’Twas quite a dashing affair; and then he extemporised beautifully on ‘Lucy Long.’ I hope you may have the pleasure in Cincinnati of hearing these real artists. Oh for the time when such music may be a daily feast for all, and when the performers shall be as noble in character as they are gifted in talent!
Charleston: February 28, 1847.