dual personalities

Today is the 170th wedding anniversary of Julia Dent and Ulysses Grant, who were married on a hot evening in her father’s townhouse at Fourth and Cerre streets in St. Louis in 1848. Anticipating the extreme heat, Julia had planned to wear a simple, cool muslin gown for the ceremony, but Mrs. John J. O’Fallon, a family friend, brought her a watered-silk gown with a tulle veil. Another friend, Mrs. Henry Shurlds, provided fresh jessamine blossoms. [No photo available, darn it.]

Since Col. Frederick Dent’s house was relatively small, the guest list was held to the Dents’ oldest and closest St. Louis friends. Julia’s attendants were her sister Nellie, her cousin Julia Boggs, and Sarah Walker. Among Grant’s groomsmen were Lt. Cadmus Wilcox and Bernard Pratte III, both of whom were later to surrender to Gen. U.S. Grant at Appomattox.

Here are some pictures of the Dent home as it aged through the years…

and the street as it looks today…

Sigh. Well, the least we can do is toast old Julia and Lyss on their anniversary. They were, by all accounts, a happy couple, deeply committed to each other and their family.

Side note from the Small World Department: one of my DP’s best friends growing up was a descendant of the aforementioned O’Fallons. According to Wikipedia, John J. O’Fallon (1791 – December 17, 1865) was a businessman, philanthropist, and military officer. During the 19th century he rose to become the wealthiest person in St. Louis. He is the namesake of O’Fallon, Illinois (incorporated in 1874) as well as O’Fallon, Missouri, and the nephew of William Clark (of Lewis and Clark). O’Fallon and Frederick Dent were both founders of the Episcopal Church in St. Louis. Nice to know that there are still O’Fallons in town.

Speaking of childhood friends, yesterday I went to the funeral of the mother of one of mine. She was 98, so it was sparsely attended, but there was a dedicated phalanx of very old, very thin, very erect, well-coiffed women in St. John suits. I felt underdressed and under-coiffed in my work attire, but c’est la vie. The service, held at the church I attended as a child, was the Episcopal short-version, Beverly having stipulated that her service run no longer than 25 minutes. Indeed, Beverly was still Beverly up until the end: the minister said that in the emergency room the night before she died, Beverly had taken umbrage with the nurses for messing up her hair. I had to chuckle picturing that. By the way, this is the lady who was the originator of the “Smell the pine in your nostrils” trope, so beloved in my family.

Well, I tried my best to speak the prayers loudly and sing audibly, since hardly anyone else was able to, but the singing was a challenge. By the fifth verse of Onward Christian Soldiers, I was very ready to throw in the towel. I was glad I went, however, as it was a pleasure to sit in this light-filled sanctuary and remember back to my youth when I giggled my way through Sunday School with this particular friend.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant Beverly. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints of light.

I heard this old song on the radio going to work the other day and thought I’d share it.

(BTW, that is not DN playing the drums, although I did do a double-take when I was watching this video.)

(Information regarding Julia Dent’s wedding from Frances Hurd Stadler, St. Louis Day By Day)