Pennock Lukens
The following is from Reminisences by Clara Huston Miller, one of Isabella's daughters.
Isabella Pennock Lukens was the fifth child born to Rebecca Lukens.
Isabella received her finishing education at West Chester I one of the best girls' boarding schools of the day; and there one of her schoolmates wrote of her: "A new girl has recently come to the school – Isabelle [sic] Lukens; no one knows her very well as yet, for she is rather distant and reserved, but we all admire her."
Among Isabella's accomplishments was painting in oils and on Chinese rice paper. Also she wrote in verse charmingly and well. To young Friends music was barred, and any member owning a piano was visited by the Elders of the Meeting, reproved and disciplined.
After Dr. Charles Huston's return from abroad, it was his father's plan that he should build up a practice for himself in Philadelphia. With ambitious views for his son, on whom so much money had been spent, he strenuously opposed any idea of his marriage, saying that a young doctor "put his nose to the grindstone" when he undertook the support of a family and ruined his prospects professionally.
When given Isabella's name he asked "Is she a daughter of Mrs. Rebecca Lukens of Chester County?" Answered in the affirmative, he exclaimed, "You should be greatly pleased; your son could not do better for himself than to marry a daughter of Mrs. Lukens.
The number of mill-men employed by Grandmother in the beginning was about one dozen and was never more than fifty. Generation after generation they worked in the mill and considered themselves part of the plant.
Dr. Charles Huston was very musical in his tastes and played quite well himself on both violin and flute; these small instruments could be stowed away in inconspicuous places, and did not subject the owner to discipline by the Meeting as did the possession for a piano.
The ancient custom of publishing the banns was retained by the Friends in the form called "Passing Meeting." At a stated meeting, about a month before the time set for the marriage, the young couple appeared and sat facing the men and women, united in one gathering for the purpose; then each in turn rose and announced intention of marriage with the other; after a suitable pause the question was asked by the clerk of the Meeting: "Are the parents consenting?" If the parents, on both side, gave consent no difficulty was made; the meeting gave its consent and appointed a committee of Elders to attend the wedding in order to see that there was no infringement of its rules of conduct; if, however, any of the parents, on either side, refused consent, a committee was appointed to enquire into the whys and wherefores and make report. True to his obstructive policy, Dr. Charles Huston's father withheld his consent until the last minute, when the other members of the family, including Charles, were leaving the house for the ride to Coatesville, and then put into Charles's hand that which he had been too proud to ask for again – his written consent. As there was no reasonable impediment or objection to the marriage, the Meeting would certainly have given permission over Charles' father's head, and he would not risk that. Thus a perfectly useless and nerve-wracking strain was imposed on the young couple; Isabella was so anxious that she ran out to meet the carriage which brought Father, to know at once if Charles's father had yielded.
For the ceremony of Passing Meeting Isabella wore a heavy satin, in tones of brown, with a broken plaid thrown up on its surface; skirts were worn wide then, with all of the fullness shirred in at the waist; Isabella was satisfied with her appearance until uncle James Penrose said to her afterward, "Belle, what in the world made you wear a dress like that? You looked exactly like a shock of corn."
For the wedding, a few weeks later, the most beautiful white silk had been chosen; it was in wide stripes, alternating moiré and gros grain; a lace bertha covered the low neck and fell over the short sleeves; white silk stockings and heelless satin slippers, with a band of ribbon crossed around the ankles, completed the costume – to the Meeting, three mile away at Ercildoun, she wore her heavily-embroidered white Canton-crepe shawl and a bonnet. The Ceremony took place in the morning; here again bride and groom, flanked by their parents, sat facing the gathering; on a bench immediately fronting them sat the bridesmaids and groomsmen, behind them the nearest family relatives, then the general assembly; behind the bridal party, in a gallery with seats raised one above the other, sat the Ministers and Elders. On such occasions there was a free intermingling of men and women who, at other tie, were separated by the width of the aisle.
After an indeterminate time of silence and meditation the Bride and Groom stood up, and he, taking her right hand in his, spoke as follows: -
"In the presence of the Lord and this Assembly I take thee, Isabelle, to be my wife, and do promise to be unto thee a loving and faithful husband until death shall separate us."
She followed with the same formula, substituting his name, etc,; then they once more seated themselves; an Elder stepped into the gallery end of the aisle, with a roll of parchment in his hand, and read aloud the legal marriage Certificate; two of the groomsmen then placed a table before the Bride and Groom, who affixed their signatures, followed by those of bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, relatives, and friends, as witnesses.
The Ceremony over, the bridal party, relatives, guests, and the Committee of Elders, drove to Brandywine. Rebecca had had enclosed the wide upper porch which ran the full length of the house overlooking, from what was the second story on that side, the main road at one end, and the lower garden of flowers, willow trees, arbors, summer house, and goldfish pond along its length; steps led down to these. The Committee of Elders took their departure, ready to report at the next Monthly Meeting that all had been conducted in an "orderly manner." All of the dresses used for Passing Meeting and the wedding were afterwards made into quilts, finely quilted with Rebecca's old patterns; filled with wool they were very soft and warm. A wide circle of younger acquaintances were invited for the evening, when Isabella again put on her white silk, with the addition, this time, of tulle veil and orange blossoms. A buffet table furnished refreshments of food and drink, and whatever gaieties filled in the evening hours there was no Committee to see and report, nor was I ever told.
After a wedding journey to Trenton Falls (then fashionable) and Niagara, Charles and Isabella went to live in Pine Street, Philadelphia. The wedding took place in April of 1848; Isabella was for deferring it until the autumn because, as a country girl, she rather dreaded going to live in the city just as summer was coming on, but Charles felt he had waited long enough, and prevailed upon Rebecca to support and intercede for him – very unselfish on her part since she would be left entirely alone with her last daughter gone out from the old home.
"MY HUSBAND'S BIRTHDAY" by Isabella Huston. Seventh Month, 1848. "Three moons have waned beloved one! fleeting, and bright, and fair, Since kind hands twined the orange flowers amid my braided hair, Since we have ventured forth alone upon the world's high tide, To Buffet with its crested waves, all bravely, side by side; And deeper, stronger, grows our love, with each advancing day, As ope the leaves of summer's buds 'neath the warm skies of May; With firmest faith and fondest trust I pledged my troth to thee, And all that brightest hopes portrayed are realized to me."
So a new home was begun in Pine Street, and Charles' father accepted the "fait accompli," ever after treating Isabella with unfailing courtesy. However, either because he was of the school that expects a young man to go off by spontaneous combustion, or because perhaps, he still resented the fact that Charles had married at all, against his wish, he did nothing to aid him in his start ads a young doctor, nor help him to form a clientele of paying patients as, in his influential position he might so easily have done, nor, I think, was Charles' immediate family ever very congenial to Isabella. Charles' sisters never married at all, and I never heard of anything approaching a love affair, except one, amongst the three of them; each had an allowance for clothes, etc., of one hundred dollars a year. Isabella used to say that Charles' father looked so black at any young man who ventured to visit his daughters that he rarely returned a second time.
Isabella was then expecting a child of her own; she was greatly shocked and over-wrought by her sister's death, and Rebecca, anxious about her, wished to have her with her at home. Also there was the complication that my father's health was in an unsatisfactory state, and he suffered from the loss of sleep entailed by the night practice of his profession; he had, as yet, no actual disease, but was far from robust and suffered from dyspepsia. He looked so delicate when he was married that onlookers pitied my mother, saying she would soon find herself a widow; probably he was still feeling the result of the over-study forced on him as he grew to manhood. Now, it was the opinion of other doctors consulted, that what he needed was country air and undisturbed sleep at night.
All of these circumstances considered, Rebecca, who had already admitted, as her partner, Martha's husband, Abraham, offered the same to Charles, and he accepted. As things were it would have been worse than foolish – almost suicidal – to refuse. An offer of partnership, in a very prosperous and paying business rarely cones to a young man without capital, except through family influence, on one side or the other.
But the change involved a removal to Coatesville and the giving up of practice in medicine, also the entire frustration of Charles Huston's ambitions. His disappointment and resentment were such that I was eleven years old before he ever set foot in our home.
While she was still a bride, Charles had, out of respect to his grandmother on his father's side, taken Isabella to see her; Isabella was far from edified with the visit, for the old woman, probably childish, had seized the occasion to lament that Charles was of "so little account, and never would amount to anything."
So, the Pine Street home was give up, and, shortly after the removal, Annie was born in the old home at Brandywine; she was named "Charlesanna Lukens" (as had been her own baby) after her Aunt Annie.
Rebecca had already built on her own property, and near herself, a house for her eldest daughter, Martha Gibbons; she now began to think of one for Isabella. In choosing the site a plot of ground alongside of Martha's had been chosen because, across the highway, on the stream side, the ground fell away rapidly to the creek of the Brandywine. Digging for the foundations was already begun when an old neighbor, passing by, remarked "What can Mrs. Lukens be thinking of to build for both of her daughters on the same side of the road! It will make a very bad division of her land." This was repeated to Rebecca; she recognized its common sense and immediately ordered the excavation to be filled up while other earth was carted in across the way, and terrace down to the lower level, in order to place Charles and Isabella's house opposite her sister's and on the same side of the road as the Brandywine mansion. It was certainly better so, but it had the disadvantage of placing the home very near the highway.
Charles undertook to draw up the building plans for the house and took great interest in its construction, making it picturesque in appearance, with broad piazzas to the north and east, ad gave it interior decoration which differentiated it from other houses in the neighborhood, but, not being an architect nor yet a woman, he almost entirely overlooked the necessity for closets, or clothes-presses; the back stair was inconveniently dark and winding and the third story so cut into by high-pointed gables that it was little more than an attic; later on a kitchen wig was added with a bathroom beside it – still alter, as the family grew, an outer kitchen was built and the bathroom, with an additional bedroom was put over the main kitchen.
- Majority owner
- Rebecca retires in October 1847. Dr. Charles Huston and Isabella leave Philadelphia for Coatesville in 1848. Dr. Charles designs their house, which is started in 1849 and completed in 1850.
- As a wedding present, Dr. Charles Huston sent a Christian missionary to China for Isabella.
- 1848 – Dr. Huston becomes a partner in the management of the firm A. Gibbons and Company
- In 1854 Rebecca dies, leaving Martha and Abraham, Isabella and Charles, and Charles Anna equal parts of her state, including remaining interests in the rolling mill.
- 1855 – Abraham Gibbons leaves the firm to start The Bank of Chester Valley. At this time, Isabella and Charles acquire Martha and Abraham's share of the mill, thus now owning 2/3 share and becoming majority owners. This buy-out gave Abraham the necessary capital to attract others in the creation of the bank. On maps from the 1870s, Isabella is still listed as the owner of the land on which the mill is located.
- After this reorganization, Isabella and Charles rename the property from A. Gibbons and Company to Lukens Rolling Mill, in her mother's honor.
- They had six children, of which A.F. and C.L., born in the 1850s, would follow their father to run the rolling mill.
Transcript from Isabellas Journal
Christmas 1848- from Isabella's journal
A pouring drenching day. This is the first Christmas of my married life. I am living in the city. Today we sat down to dinner, my 2 sisters & myself with our two husbands. Annie and I are both brides -sister M has her little horde about her, 2 dear little girls and a lively boy. Such a clamour as the children make in our quiet house, a perfect change from its . . . stillness. Sister Annie is looking beautifully, we had a merry time in Charlie's office this afternoon- and towards evening we ladies adjourned to the parlor and left the gentlemen to their cigars and jokes. Went to bed tired, and sleepy thinking what a pity it was that my calves foot jelly, over which I had spent so much time and trouble should have played us the slip at dinner and from a . . . entrance into the warm dining room became liquid.
Christmas 1849 at Brandywine (from Isabella's journal)
Cold, bleak and blustering. We promised to go to Uncle James Penrose's to dinner, but I have been too sick with a bad cold to fulfilled it. Charley made the attempt, but the roads were frozen so rough that he returned disheartened. I have been lying on the sofa all day. My baby, my little Annie, my first born- is flying about the room in her baby jumper - a delightful exercise for her. Sad thoughts visit me upon this quiet, quiet Christmas. She, whose name my child bears, our purest, and fairest sister is with us no longer and the eyes of us who loved her are aching with the tears shed over her untimely grave. She has left a child a little Annie, but can she ever take the place of the lost mother. Oh, never, never!
My dear mother's face looks troubled and anxious, for the welfare of this little one is in her keeping and the Lord of Hosts be with and help her with her charge.
1850- Christmas (from Isabella's journal)
They have all dined with us at the old homestead. Not much hilarity, for our hearts are yet bowed woth the weight of our great bereavement to which another has been added to my sister's heart. Her darling little boy, her precious Charly, has been taken from her, and the cloud yet hangs upon her brow, while the sorrow is deep within her soul. Another child has been added unto us. Little darling Clara, and Annie's light feet go pattering over the carpet, dancing in infant glee. Our dear mother is with us.
1851 in Phila., Dining at DR. Huston's in . . . I St. Charly and I were a little late to dinner, for leaving the children at the door we walked round to the book store and selected presents for his 3 sisters. Had rather a hurried time, but spent a pleasant evening at A Huston's in Pine St. with his lovely wife.
1852 At old Brandywine homestead again. Mother, sister, and myself had each, to my amusement, too small a turkey to feast the assembled family on, but by adding an oyster pie of my manufacture to the bird at Mother's Charley, myself, our little girls and sweet little boy, went down to dinner. The children, with little Annie Tingley tore and raced about the room at such a rate, that poor Mother was forced to stop her ears, and I was too glad to get . . . under the paternal roof once me, despite the rain- a warm, damp, unpleasant day. A nice present from Abram and sis of a great bottle of Hunter's . . . cologne - when we returned from Mother's no one was in the house and the dusk of evening was all . . . ancing . . . Charles returned, Dear husband and father. I thought how drear a life without him would be. The thought struck me how awful it would be if he should never return - But he came in smiling - and the children ran eagerly to meet him - In the evening when the little one were abed, we elders, feasted on sponge cake and cider.
1868 Christmas (Isabella's journal)
So many years have passed since I penned the last Christmas token, that I had almost forgotten I had ever done it. Ah, what changes have these years wrought. My dear mother has lain for 14 years under the sods of the graveyard but her memory is still green and cherished. Little Annie Tingley lies in her young mother's grave, has lain there for nearly eight years. My own children are growing up around me. Annie nearly twenty, Clara 18, both good and dutiful, as my heart could ask. Aby growing up a tall boy Alice and Charley and dear sweet little Mary, they are all with usbut our Eddie, our dear, little, romping, gleesome Eddie, he is lost to earth forever, he had his last Christmas, the happiest of all and now he is not here and all our former joy is turned to sadness- our smiles to tears. So that it is a mournful time with us- we can. . . spare him, though we have so many others- our youngest . . .and darling-Gathered into the Heavenly fold. Oh! That we may not make too much of our sweet little Mary, seeing these clay idols are so frail and we cannot keep them.
