The Haunting Charm of St. Francisville
When Garden & Gun magazine ranks a city number #1 on a list of “Sweet and Soulful Southern Hideaways”, you know you’re in for something special. After all, who would know the Deep South better than a publication that is a must-read for all those who drink sweet tea on accessorized porches. Don’t let your first glance at the town’s main street discourage you. There is just a scant block of shops. This town isn’t about shopping. It’s about the people who lived here long ago and the spirits that many say still linger today.
For us, this was one of many trips heading east on I-10, but once we turned north at Baton Rouge, we realized that this part of Louisiana is unlike where we’d been before. Instead of swamps and coastal landscapes (and that bridge that’s way too long), we followed a winding road upward onto the bluffs of West Feliciana Parish. We were told that these bluffs are actually a part of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains; that Andrew Jackson passed by on his way to the Battle of New Orleans; and that the longest battle of the Civil War was fought just down the road.
Ghost stories are an integral part of the history here. In some circles, they are accepted as fact. Maybe the spirit world is more active because St. Francisville began as a burial ground for eighteenth century Spanish settlers. Or maybe it’s because over twelve thousand Union and Confederate soldiers lost their lives at nearby Port Hudson.
The battle took place on land, and on the Mississippi River. It lasted forty-eight days and remains one of the longest sieges in U.S. military history.
We wouldn’t want to roam that battlefield after dark.
The mansions that survived the Civil War era all seem to come with a resident ghost or two. During the years when cotton and sugarcane plantations flourished, this area was home to America’s richest families and the unfortunate people they enslaved. Even for non-believers – like we were before this trip – their tragic stories make a haunting seem possible.
We came to St. Francisville with a simple agenda: enjoy the local food and visit elegant plantations. We did not come to see ghosts, but that part didn’t work out for us.
But let’s start at the beginning …
We made our base at the St. Francisville Inn.
That’s right. We stayed here. If you want luxury, or you like a high degree of comfort, this isn’t the place for you. When we arrived, we considered that it wasn’t the place for us either.
The decor is a bit quirky.
After our first breakfast, our doubts disappeared. We kept asking our hosts for recipes.
It was that good.
Evenings on their wide front porch, drinking wine and visiting with other guests, add to the allure. It’s one of the very best locations for touring the countryside and the price doesn’t hurt either.
Oakley Plantation in Audubon State Park is just 5.7 miles from the St. Francisville Inn. We took the long way and made it in just under an hour, but we recommend you do the 9-minute route shown on Google Maps. The colonial-style home sits on 100 acres, only a portion of its original Spanish Land Grant. It is unspoiled by the 215 years that have passed since sugarcane flourished in its fields.
Ruffin Gray, who built the home, died during the construction. His young wife, Lucy Alston, oversaw the completion. She remarried a Scotsman, James Pirrie, and raised a family here. Their descendants owned the home until 1947, when the structure and remaining land, were purchased for $10,000 by the state of Louisiana. The three-story home was unpainted at time, in disrepair, and covered in vines, but fortunately, it remained in its original state. No modern conveniences had been added.
Below is a foot-tub. I wonder why these went out of style?
Fire was an ever-present threat so the kitchen was built away from the home.
Louisiana’s interest in owning Oakley Plantation was due to a struggling artist, John James Audubon, who lived on the plantation from June to October of 1821. Lucy Alston Pirrie offered Audubon $60 per month along with room and board to tutor her 13-year-old daughter, Eliza. He was given half days off to pursue his art. It is here that he began his famous series, Birds of North America.
Audubon’s influence remains today. The home was cleared of a hundred plus years of family antiques, and refurnished to the austere look of the Federal period, mimicking the decor at the time Audubon tutored here.
There are ghost stories attached to Oakley as well. If you do an Internet search, you can find recordings of a spectral woman humming a tune and a little paranormal guitar strumming. It’s easy to believe past residents might want to visit again. As you walk beneath the canopies of giant oak trees, the silence is so profound, you’ll believe you stepped through a portal to another century.
Leaving Oakley Plantation, (using GPS), it’s a 15 minute drive to the 660 foot oak allee that leads to the mansion at Rosedown Plantation. When you imagine the ultimate antebellum plantation home, the kind you’ve seen in movies, this is the place you see in your mind’s eye.
Set in a formal garden, uncommon for its day, the 8,000 square foot mansion has wide porches and wide balconies and lots of big white columns. Inside, much of the original furniture remains, all in pristine condition. A tapestry, hand sewn by Martha Washington, is framed in the lady’s parlor. Outside, giant azalea and camellia bushes thrive.
The Spanish moss that hangs from these old oaks has enchanted visitors like us for over a hundred years. We gained a little firsthand knowledge about moss: chiggers are enchanted with it too.
The story of Rosedown began in 1834 when young Daniel Turnbull had a sawmill set up on his 3,400-acre plantation. Using cypress and cedar, his workforce of 450 slaves, built his home in 6 months. It cost just over $13,000. Daniel’s wife, Martha, patterned their gardens after those she had seen while on her European honeymoon. The receipts for plants purchased for the grounds are saved in her meticulous files. The Turbulls had three children: a son who died of yellow fever, a son who drown in the Mississippi River, and a daughter, Sarah. In 1857, Sarah married, James Pirrie Bowman, the son of her wealthy neighbors at Oakley plantation.
Daniel Turnbull died in 1861, leaving his family to deal with hardships of the Civil War. All three of the Turnbull plantations saw destruction at the hands of Union troops. With the loss of their unpaid workforce, profits severely declined, but the once enslaved who stayed as sharecroppers, allowed the plantation to survive.
After Sarah’s death in 1914, her four unmarried daughters lived in the home, opening it for tours to help pay for it’s upkeep. When the last of daughter died in 1955, Rosedown was sold to Catherine Fondren-Underwood of Houston, whose ten-million-dollar-eight-year renovation took the home and garden back to its original antebellum glory. Today, Rosedown, like Oakley Plantation, is owned by the state of Louisiana.
While the subject of slavery is not ignored here, it is not the focus of the tours. When you look at the open door in butler’s pantry, just off the elegant formal dining room, you see a narrow stairway that has been climbed so many times, the wooden treads are almost worn away. Up this steep stairway, the slaves of Rosedown hauled water for baths and whatever was needed to attend to the needs of this family, who was so spoiled, their seven course meals were said to be served on seven different sets of china.
The beauty of this plantation, and the others plantations we toured, is marred by the reality of what took place in order to sustain this economy. Still, this is a part our history — not a proud part — but it should not be forgotten. The elegance and opulence of Rosedown can’t help but be a reminder of this.
If you only have time for one plantation tour, it should be this one.
We had more Louisiana adventures ahead of us, including our visit to Myrtles Plantation, one of the most haunted places in America. We will share those next time.
Thank you for coming along