Charles Hinton Lofland and Martha Jane Turner Lofland
One of the few treasures I own is a beautiful quilt that was hand-pieced by my great-great-great grandmother, Martha Jane Turner Lofland (1858-1939). The embroidered inscription on the backside of the quilt bears her name, and it has given her almost epic qualities in my imagination. In spite of this, I knew very little about this ancestor until last night.
"Who are these people?" I asked my mother, pulling a gold-framed diptych off her wall. I'd seen the portraits before, but I was suddenly struck by the dark tones of the beautiful woman on the right, not knowing that it was the very creator of my beloved quilt. "She could be half Native American, even," I suggested. My mom hmmed over that one, saying that she was pretty sure that Martha Jane Turner's line was pretty well-documented.
We're fortunate to have had many very thorough genealogists in the family, and, before I knew it, my mom had pulled out a hard-bound book documenting the Lofland family line. Sure enough, Martha Jane's father was a Methodist minister born in Henry County, Georgia, before moving to Texas and marrying a woman from Tennessee. All the family names and locations were organized and recorded--no indication of racial mixing as far as anyone could tell.
The really interesting bit, though, came from one of Martha Jane's daughters (the author of the book), who recorded a story Martha Jane had told. It was about her competition with another young woman for the affection of her future husband, my great-great-great grandfather Charles Hinton Lofland, in 1877:
"Charlie would go occasionally with a girl, named Fannie Whitenton. I thought they had up quite a case, and I was worried over it. I got after him for going with her, and he said, 'Oh! JANE, you know I don't care anything for Fannie Whitenton. You are the only girl that I have ever loved.'"
It turns out that Fannie Whitenton had written and dedicated a love poem to Charles, and Charles pulled the poem out of his pocket and gave it to Martha Jane, who "went home and answered it" with a love poem of her own! Both poems are reproduced below.
But first, my 21st-century interpretation of this 137-year-old girl fight:
First of all, poor Fannie Whitenton! All that I can gather is that she was actually a pretty good poet, and that she was absolutely in love with my great-great-great grandfather, right down to the little details about him, such as the sound of his "hasty step" and his "kind sweet tone." And not only to lose the guy that was kind of leading her on by "going with her," but to have him give her love poem away to her competitor?! Harsh.
Second, bless my own great-great-great grandmother, Martha Jane. I can imagine her sitting there at home with this other girl's poem to beautiful Charlie Lofland on her desk, crying her eyes out and trying to write something decent in response. Emphasis on trying, because the literary critic in me has to say that her poem's not that great. I was kind of feeling it in the fourth verse ("There is not enough paper in this world, / There are not enough pens and ink..."), but then she goes and threatens to hang herself if she doesn't see Charles again? ("Run away!" my mom shouted to Charles, 137 years too late.) Good thing she was gorgeous and an amazing quilter--otherwise my family line might not have continued past Limestone County, Texas!
Third, Charles Hinton Lofland really must've been something to have inspired a poetry war over him! I mean, you see the portrait: he's a good-looking guy. I'm curious about his "playing the field," in a way, and his taking two years after this whole scene to marry "the only girl that I have ever loved," who was already 19 years old when she penned that poem to him.
There's so much we don't know. But I love it when such personal, human details pop out of the past to make us marvel at its everyday and how very, very real it was.
Fannie's poem:
"STAR OF MY HEART
I miss thee each lone hour,
Star of my heart.
No other voice hath power
The joy to impart.
Darkness is on the hearth,
Naught do I say,
Books are but little worth,
Thou are away.
I listen for thy hasty step,
Thy kind sweet tone.
But silence whispers me
Thou art alone.
Voices true and kind
Strangers are to me
I have lost all heart and mind,
Thinking of thee.
Yours truly,
Fannie Whitenton
Dedicated to CHARLES LOFLAND"
and Martha Jane's:
"Written by MARTHA JANE TURNER and dedicated to CHARLES LOFLAND May 1, 1877 -- Two years before they married.
MY LOVE
One evening as I sat alone
Thinking my love of thee,
I was thinking what a sad world to me
This world would be without thee.
I was thinking of the past;
I was thinking of the last
Perhaps he would ever say to me.
All these sad thoughts I burst into tears,
Oh my Lord what shall I do?
I feel like one that was left alone
In this wide world to toil.
Sad are those thoughts to my mind,
But then I have it to bear.
There is not enough paper in this world,
There are not enough pens and ink,
There's not enough hands, there's not enough tongues,
To tell what I do think.
I've thought of you my love, I've thought of you my dove,
I've thought of the one I love best,
I thought and I thought and I cried and I cried
'Til I feel like my heart would break.
Oh, if I knew I would never see his face
To tell him I loved him again
I would go right straight, I would hang myself
To some high swinging limb.
Oh, if I knew that some other girl
Could step in and take my place,
I would pray to God to take me away
Where I'd never more see his face.
But I expect to go with a bowed down head
With a sad look upon my face
'Til I get a few words from my sweet turtle dove
And see a bright smile upon his face.
Written in answer to Fannie Whitenton's dedication to CHARLES HINTON LOFLAND ('Star of My Heart')"
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