J. Richard Beste Family's Visit to Terre Haute in 1851

Part II

J. Richard Beste described his view from a window of his sitting room at the Prairie House on the evening of June 29, 1851, the family's first in Terre Haute like this:

"The eternal electric telegraph wire, which seemed to have accompanied our every step from New York, through town, over forest, over lake and over prairie, spanned the long space striding along on its huge unhewn poles and then losing itself amid the buildings beyond.

"On the other side of the road were neat garden palings, enclosing evergreens and flowering shrubs that overhung a wide footway and sheltered the trim houses within.

"Beyond, over and amongst the trees on the right, on the left and in front of the common, arose the houses of the town, some of framework, some of brick; through and above them all peeped spires and towers of churches, apparently vast and various enough to accommodate the faithful of a city four times as populous."

Beste was surprised when a waiter told him that "three gentlemen" were there to see him.

The callers were hotel landlord Touissant C. Buntin, the Rev. Simon Lalumiere of St. Joseph's Church and an unidentified Frenchman, "who was a wine merchant in town."

Beste interrogated the visitors about Terre Haute, with particular concern about medical practitioners, since his 9-year-old daughter Isabel had become very ill.

" [A]fter some discussion between my visitors, they determined that a Dr. Read held the highest rank in public estimation." Lalumiere said Read was the "perfect classical scholar and always carried 'The Iliad,' in Greek, as a pocket companion."

Buntin had endorsed one of his relatives but was forced to "give way to such evidence of medical skill."

By the next morning, Isabel Beste's condition had worsened and Dr. Ezra Read was summoned.

"In a few minutes, he stood by my bedside," Beste recalled. "A middle-sized, light-haired man of about 40 years of age; with hollow cheeks and high American cheek bones; with long, lanky, brown hair that nearly hid his baldness, with a round, bright blue eye which he opened very wide and rolled about incessantly; with an inquisitive, intelligent, good humored and very animated look."

Despite his reputation and apparent qualifications, Dr. Read could not cure Isabel. The Bestes were gratified by the sympathy and kindness exhibited by the hotel management, town people and boarders, particularly "Mrs. Harrison, the wife of Colonel Harrison, grandson of a former President of the United States, who came constantly into the sick room and was of great assistance to us."

As Isabel weakened, Dr. George Clippenger was consulted. However, the young girl died and funeral services were conducted at St. Joseph's Church.

To the Bestes' amazement, businessmen left their stores during the busiest part of the day "to follow, two miles to the grave, the little stranger of whom they knew nothing, and to show sympathy for the family."

When Beste was able, Dr. Read and Colonel Harrison took him for a country drive in Harrison's "Rough and Ready" -- two benches on a scaffold raised by springs and four light wheels with a leather awning and leather curtains -- drawn by two horses. Beste was dazzled by the "magnificent crops of Indian corn just coming into ear."

"We rose above the valley and drove through primeval woods," he wrote. "The glimpses through their openings were very beautiful. We came upon a grassy terrace, at the foot of which the blue Wabash rolled its dark waters. It was singularly wild and beautiful."

Beste recognized his unique predicament. "No English traveler would willingly remain weeks in a small town in the back settlements of the United States," he noted. As a result, Beste was compelled to describe what "had become to us almost 'our village.'"

Occasionally, one of Beste's children made an entry in the travelogue.

"Mr. Bunting," wrote daughter Lucy, "gave very good breakfasts. There were cornbread, little seed cakes, pancakes and fritters, milk, butter buried in large lumps of ice, molasses, preserves and blackberry syrup in large soup tureens.

"Besides these things there were hot beefsteaks, roast and boiled chickens and various sorts of cold meat."

"At dinner," son Louie penned, "there was roast beef always, and, in general, the following dishes: Chicken pie, veal pie, beef steaks, roast lamb, veal and mutton cutlets, boiled ham, pigeons, roast veal and roast pork. As vegetables, we had generally elderly peas and beans, hominy [a kind of dry bean resembling haricots], and potatoes.

"Once we had sweet potatoes, which were red, and tasted like common potatoes deceased. Our sweets were generally pie [there are no tarts in the United States, everything there is pie]. At dessert there were large bowls of iced cream, and watermelons, which they called 'Cholera bomb shells,' and in spite of their terrific name, they were eaten avidly."

July 4, 1851, was a day of celebration. "A procession of schoolchildren passed by the Prairie House carrying flags," Lucy wrote. Each flag had a different motto written on it. Stores were closed and everyone wore their Sunday clothes. In the evening, there were fireworks. At dinner champagne and sherry cobbler were distributed freely.

The Bestes dined with several young ladies with white ribbons in their hair from a "large convent school called St. Mary's of the Woods, a few miles from Terre Haute. This was their greatest holiday of the year, the only day on which they were allowed, except when they went home, to pass beyond the spacious enclosure of their convent grounds."

Continued to next week