Monday, September 4, 2023

The Incredible Story of Ruth Lowndes and Francis Simmons--A Charleston Story Captive in the Realm of the Unexplained

Charleston is one of the oldest cities on the east coast. For that matter, it is one of the oldest of colonial America with a history as deep as its harbor waters and filled with stories as plentiful as the shrimp it pulls from its surrounding waters. Stories both true and fiction. Some, like its famous Nitrotini, an intoxicating concoction of both.

The article included with this writing is a narrative of just one of those many stories. It is a true story. The characters are real Charlestonians, the places are either still standing or long gone with only traces of remnants remaining to speak of its once upon a time existence.

The article was written by Margaret Rhett Taylor for the State Magazine, January 29, 1956. She teasingly begins with the words: "Tis a strange tale, this legend of old Charleston. The facts are all true, but the secret of what madness possessed these two has never been revealed. It will no doubt now forever remain a mystery. And yet--as I tell it to you it is so simple, so human, and so very pathetic." With those eloquent words, she arouses in you a craving to read on.

Margaret Rhett Taylor continued, "It happened at a time when a man's word must be better than his bond, when a promise, no matter how foolish must be kept, when he would fight and die for a point of honor--or of pride. This was eighteenth century Charleston."

The two main characters are a well-bread Charleston lady with unfulfilled expectations and a Southern gentleman who would become a victim of an honor system void of mercy, both imprisoned by social norms of the cruelest nature. This is their journey into the dark side of self-serving love.

The article continued, "The wedding was always an occasion for celebration and the mansion of the honorable Rawlins Lowndes." Rawlins Lowndes, an American lawyer, politician, and president/governor of South Carolina in the 1700s, had a daughter named Ruth. The wedding was to be her betrothal to Francis Simmons, a John's Island planter.

The wedding day had arrived, decorations were in place. "The family of the bride, however, waited anxiously with forced smiles--waited and worried, for they knew only yesterday the bride and groom had had a bitter quarrel--that he departed in anger. Not a word had come from him since--but then it was customary for the bride to remain in retirement on her wedding day. Only--how could one know what might happen...Would he come--? Would there be a marriage at all--? What shocking scorn were they going to have to face? The piano played softly and to their great relief Mr. Simmons entered."

The pretty petite Ruth, pale but serene, descended the stairs. The bridegroom took her hand and stood beside her and in clear steady voices they spoke their sacred vows. They were pronounced man and wife. Though unperceived by most, something was amiss. The bridegroom had not kissed his bride.

A brilliant reception followed. All of Charleston society congratulated them with a hand shake and wished them well. At the end, the bridegroom escorted the bride to their brand new coach. They sat next to one another in quiet intimacy, the bride filled with hopeful expectation. 

The coachman pulled up to the gates of the new house bought and furnished by the bridegroom. Not a word spoken between them the whole time, eye contact avoided. Francis led Ruth to the door. He finally spoke, "I hope you will find everything to your liking, Madam. Goodnight." With her head held high and filled with pride, she answered with cool indifference, "I shall indeed. Goodnight to you, Sir." Turning, she walked swiftly through the door and up the stairs without a backward glance.

Ruth now was alone--married--and abandoned on her wedding night. What a diabolical revenge for a few bitter words. What unkindness. What cruelty. She looked with dismay upon her future. Publically abandoned, she would never forgive him. She hated him, she longed for him. But, she was raised to be a lady. She was the daughter of a proud Charleston family. The morning found her calm and resolved.

The years passed. Francis would come to pay formal calls or to preside at Ruth's dinners and receptions, exiting with the last guests. He found little satisfaction in the situation, always having to leave the beautiful home he built and furnished. So, in 1800, he purchased a very important piece of property from Mr. Izard at 14 Legare Street for 1200 pounds. He tore down the existing dwelling, and in its place, he built one of the most magnificent residences in the city. And so, Ruth lived alone in her home. Francis lived alone in his home. 

14 Legare Street

Just two words could have altered their ensuing fates, forgive me. The couple painfully but honorably stayed true to their vows. However, their marriage from beginning to death do us part remained unconsummated. As to the altercation that determined their futures, they never spoke of it to anyone. No explanation has ever been given. Thus, a troublesome void remained.

History hates a void. Historians want answers. The void of this story lies somewhere between certainty and uncertainty, a captive in the realm of the unexplained. The reason why has been often speculated, but never verified. Attempts have been made to fill the void between certainty and uncertainty. What inconceivably dreadful words passed between them that fateful day? Words that ended up sucking the life out of two promising futures, leaving only a heartless vacuum in its place. One explanation has prevailed. I begin with the tale. 

Francis passionately wooed Ruth, telling her often how much he loved her. Unfortunately, she made the unwitting mistake of introducing Francis to her closest friend, Sabina Smith. He fell in love with Sabina immediately.

In a desperate move to counteract this unintended turn in fortune, Ruth conceived a plan incorporating deception. She told Francis Sabina was planning on announcing her engagement to another gentleman by the name of Dick Johnston. Heartbroken, Francis stepped aside.

Francis showed a handkerchief with his initials on it during a visit to Ruth sometime later and said, "Wouldn't you like to have such beautiful initials?" Ruth took that as a proposal. Next, Rawlins Lowndes called Francis to his home to discuss the proposal. Assuming Sabina would never be his wife, Francis accepted and made arrangements for his marriage to Ruth.

The wedding was now one day away, and Francis was walking down Church Street, which took him passed the Smith house and a happenchance rendezvous with Sabina. Ruth's deception comes to light during their resulting conversation. Sabina told Francis she never intended on marrying Dick Johnston. She entertained the hope that one day she might be his bride. Now those hopes were dashed, for tomorrow was his wedding day.

Outraged by what he now knew was a lie, Francis confronted Ruth Lowndes. The argument was the talk of Charleston. He expressed his contempt for her while she sobbed and pretended not to know what he meant. Raised an honorable southern gentleman, he resentfully honored his word and stuck to the agreement, thus losing Sabina forever. Bitter about the trickery, he told Ruth she would be his wife in name only.

And so, the void was filled and a Charleston ghost story was born. The townhouse in this story is long gone, but people believe the long, narrow alley on Tradd Street with an entrance marked by tall, brick columns is haunted. It is said, during the late hours of the night, the pounding of horse's hoofs and the rumbling of coach wheels can be heard passing on this section of the street and down the dark alley. The carriage is carrying one occupant, Ruth Lowndes Simmons. The narrow pathway is called Simmons' Alley.

Charleston's long history provides the ideal plots for stories like this one, and its streets and alleys offer the perfect backdrop. You can choose from a variety of tours offered by the numerous hosts located throughout the historic Charleston Peninsula. Before or after your selected tour, be sure to make a stop at the Market Pavilion Hotel on E Bay Street and order the ghostly drink called the Nitrotini. And quite possible, you may someday see William Shatner speak of this famous Charleston tragedy on the Unexplained.

No comments: