The Bishop and the Rose: A Family Saga

By Victor A. Wilkie

The Bishop and the Rose: A Family Saga is a heart-pounding historical novel. If you like sweeping adventures, epic romances, and heroic wartime deeds, then you'll adore Victor A. Wilkie's stirring drama.

Greenville, SC, 1861. Jefferson Bishop longs to follow in his grandfather's frontier footsteps. Intent on marrying his childhood sweetheart, he's eager to run his family's farm estate. But when his adventurous spirit sees him impulsively enlist in the Civil War, he leaves his bride-to-be behind and rushes headlong into danger.

Surviving violent bushwhackers and unending battles, Jefferson holds his cherished wife close through private handwritten correspondence. But after a near-fatal injury stops all communication and he finally limps home, he's horrified to discover his land ravaged and his darling gone.

Will Jefferson Bishop and his wife reunite after the carnage to reclaim an all-conquering love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victor A. Wilkie
• Release date: Dec 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393209553

Victor A. Wilkie

Victor A. Wilkie lives in Greenville, South Carolina, where he works as an insurance agent specializing in helping senior citizens and has also done volunteer work with the homeless. He enjoys reading and writing, fishing, camping, and college sports, and his friends and readers can attest to his gift for storytelling. With his passion for history and romance, Victor has a somewhat unique ability to immerse readers in his stories. As many have observed, his characters and scenes become real – they vividly play on the movie screen of the mind. Victor is the author of Once a God: The Spirit of Miriam, The Bishop and the Rose: A Family Saga, Enemies of the Greater Good, and the newly-released book, The Winter Palace: A May December Love Story.

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The Bishop and the Rose: A Family Saga

By Victor Wilkie

Copyright ©2020

All rights reserved . No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations included in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

Special thanks to Wendy Dempsy McCarter, whose knowledge of horses and enthusiastic support for this project proved invaluable. I would also like to express my gratitude to Jonathan Eaker at the Library of Congress and the Greenville County Library in Greenville, South Carolina. Lastly, my appreciation to my friends for their patience and support throughout this long process.

Front cover design by EBook Launch.

Editing services provided by Jefferson at Book Editing Services.

Front cover by EBook Launch

Pictured on the back cover is 2nd Lt. John T. Forrester of Company F, 37th North Carolina Regiment.

Foreword

Iwas born in Greenville , South Carolina, on May 22, 1947. I lived most of my adult life in Fairfax County, Virginia, where I taught history and literature at a community college, after which I retired in 2013 and began in earnest to delve into my family’s genealogy. My guess is that very few people dream of retiring so that they can spend countless hours researching, corresponding with distant relatives they don’t even know, or visiting libraries in search of elusive tidbits of information, and having spent several years doing just that, I can understand why. Running into brick walls and being taken to task by some fifth cousin (twice removed) for errors I made along the way was, to put it mildly, no fun. In the end, however, my discoveries and the stories associated with them proved to be well worth the time invested, trials and tribulations aside.

There remains a great deal of a mystery surrounding the background of my 4x great-grandfather, John Shelby Bishop, around whom much of this story revolves. I know that he left his native Virginia sometime around 1799–1800 and that his family owned a plantation there. It is further known, via stories handed down from generation to generation, that he was an abolitionist at heart, a man who held great loathing for the institution of slavery. One oft-repeated family tale revolved around John Shelby Bishop punching a plantation overseer when he came upon that man thrashing a slave named Eustace. Supposedly, he was just a boy when this incident occurred, and many in the family believe that this led, at least in part, to his anti-slavery sentiment. Another assumption is that John’s father cut him out of his inheritance, cast him out of the family, or both. Adding to the mystery is the fact that I was able to find no record of a Bishop family owning slaves in Virginia, and this leaves room for conjecture as to his surname. Records show that he purchased three hundred acres of land in Greenville County, South Carolina, in 1800 and that he married my 4x great-grandmother, Miranda Buckner, in April of that same year. Sixteen years old at the time of the marriage, Miranda was from Orange County, Virginia. It is reasonable to assume that John was from the same area and also that he hailed from a prominent family, as he was well-educated and would not have been allowed to court Miranda otherwise.

All of this leaves a handful of possibilities as to his last name, Bishop. Union forces possibly razed the Bishop family plantation during or after the Civil War, destroying vital records, but given the number of files that survived in Orange County and the surrounding areas despite the war, this hardly seems likely.

Another possibility is that John randomly chose the surname Bishop as he was fleeing the possible repercussions of his actions in Virginia. Family lore holds that he stole away with Miranda without her father’s consent and that a duel may have occurred, either with Miranda’s father or one of her brothers, before his flight. While it stands to reason that a fugitive may have adopted a phony name, this hypothesis does not seem consistent with the relatively high-profile life John led in Greenville County. He operated a large farm and a cattle ranch, had several other business interests, and was known to hold large gatherings on his estate.

A third theory is that John Shelby Bishop hailed from North Carolina, where records show that Bishop families did own slaves, and that he claimed a Virginia heritage so that no one would know he’d been turned out by his family. Again, however, this seems highly unlikely as it is more than two hundred miles from Bertie County, North Carolina, to Orange County, Virginia, and nearly as far from Halifax County in North Carolina. This would have constituted a long-distance relationship with Miranda even by today’s standards and seems inconceivable in the context of the eighteenth century.

Lastly, there is the possibility that having been disowned by his family, he chose not to carry their surname and opted instead for another family name. Bishop, for instance, may have been his mother’s maiden name. As to the name Shelby, there is no record of slaveowners with that name owning slaves in Virginia.

Whatever the case, the truth of this, so far as I could ascertain, is lost to the dustbin of history. Many believe that John arrived in Greenville County in possession of a sizeable sum of money, five thousand dollars, as family legend has it, and this provides further evidence that he was, in fact, from a wealthy family. Miranda’s father would not have donated money so that John could run off with his daughter, and had John stolen such a sum, he would likely have been hunted down or, at a minimum, would have maintained a low profile. According to the tale, John’s mother pleaded with her husband not to send their son away penniless.

Another matter is the question of why John Shelby Bishop came to Greenville County. Some relatives reason that he merely determined he’d run far enough. However, my research and reasoning indicate that he left Virginia sometime in the summer of 1799 and did not arrive in Greenville County until the early spring of 1800. The timeline matters because, in my opinion, it is highly unlikely that many residents of Orange County, Virginia, were familiar with Greenville County, South Carolina, and therefore, it’s unlikely that this would have been John’s initially intended destination. I believe that somewhere along the way, John learned of the political leanings and prevalent attitudes of the region and that this attracted him.

The history of northwestern South Carolina, like that of western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee, is one of Unionist sentiment. Particularly in the northern half of what was then known as the Greenville District, the attitude toward slavery could best be described as indifferent or ambivalent, but it was not a region where a majority deemed the institution sacred or necessary. For example, a man named George Salmon owned a 640-acre plantation not far from the estate of John Shelby Bishop, and there is no record of slaves there. Just south of there was the 450-acre Oaklawn Plantation, which was owned by the Croft family, and there is no record of slave ownership in this case, either. Slave-holding and the politics that surrounded it was seen primarily as the purview of the rich in the eastern and Lowcountry regions of the Carolinas, and I believe that this may well have played a role in John Shelby Bishop’s decision to settle in Greenville County.

As to the fleshing out of this story, I owe much to family legend, letters from the period, and diaries, particularly the journal of Edith Holleman. From her writings, I gained great insight into the character of my Bishop ancestors, and Edith’s papers even included some actual quotes. For example, her entry from June 1840 reads:

Gathered there on the Bishop porch, we drank lemonade and waited eagerly for Virginia Wiley to show us a dance with which the Bishops were unfamiliar. Some called it clog-dancing, and some called it step-dancing, she told us, and she then proceeded to give us a sample. We all roared with laughter moments later, for, when John Shelby Bishop asked Virginia if she’d teach us all this dance, she replied: Well, I ain’t rightly sure y’all are fit to learn, Mister Bishop. You see, us simple folk have plenty to stomp about, so it comes more natural to us. Samuel Bishop considers Virginia his sweetheart, and, as she seems to think him the same, I can only say that he is a very fortunate young man, for she is a treasure.

Edith’s diary also records that at the wedding reception for Samuel and Virginia, John presented the bride with a thoroughbred stallion, which Virginia would name Tybalt. Edith’s granddaughter, Lily Rose, also kept a diary, which provided a treasure trove of insight.

Back in 1995, my wife and I traveled to Greenville to spend the holidays with my parents. On Christmas morning, my father, who was seventy years old and suffering hip and knee pain, waddled out of the living room and returned a few minutes later with armloads of surprise: four dusty shoeboxes, each one crammed with old letters, diaries, and photographs. You’re the historian in the family, so, Merry Christmas, he said to me, and my wife later commented that my face lit up brighter than the tree. Despite my delight, however, we returned home a few days later, and the realities of day-to-day living trumped my interest in family history. I consigned the shoebox valuables to my archival treasure chest, where they would remain for the better part of seventeen years.

Once I reopened the old chest, I was taken most by the correspondences between my 2x great-grandfather Jefferson Bishop and his sweetheart, my 2x great-grandmother Lily Rose Holleman. This correspondence began when Jefferson went off to join the Confederate Army in the summer of 1861. If John Shelby Bishop is the most mysterious of my ancestors, it is likely safe to say that Jefferson Bishop was the most colorful, and it was the tale of his adventures and his love for Lily Rose that I originally intended to tell.

If any should enjoy this story even half as much as I enjoyed putting it all together, then a reading of The Bishop and the Rose will prove to be time well-spent.

– James Alton Bishop

Chapter I: New Beginnings

Jefferson Bishop was born in Greenville County, South Carolina, on September 23, 1843. Situated approximately twelve miles north/northwest of the city of Greenville, the Bishop family farm was picturesque, as the creator had arranged its rolling acreage in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Our story begins with Jefferson’s grandfather John Shelby Bishop, who was the eldest son of a wealthy Virginia planter and supposedly fell out of favor after voicing his intention to free the family’s slaves once the plantation became his. The brothers protested, and their father agreed and re-ordered his affairs to ensure that his estate should pass to his second-born son. When John Shelby Bishop was seventeen, his father welcomed him to leave and find his way in the world, which he would do, but not before his mother intervened on her son’s behalf, seeing to it that her husband granted him a parting inheritance of five thousand dollars. But John Shelby was not about to leave without his promised bride, Miranda Buckner. Family lore held that with fifteen-year-old Miranda’s family believing John Shelby had called on her for nothing more than a routine visit, he had asked for her hand and then stole away with his bride-to-be.

Precisely what led John Shelby Bishop from the aristocratic Virginia soil of his heritage to a remote area of Greenville County in South Carolina remains a matter of speculation. Perhaps it was purely chance, or maybe it was because northern Greenville, like the mountainous region of western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee, provided something of an escape from regional politics. Slave owners were mostly foreign to an area that was dotted primarily with poor mountain folk and yeoman farmers who tended comparatively small parcels of land. These were mostly good people who took care of their own and did not concern themselves much with the melodrama of the upper crust. Then again, some said that John Shelby Bishop, having violated the young lady’s honor, came to the region because it was a place Miranda’s brothers would not think to hunt him down. He had a steady hand and was known to be better than a fair shot with a dueling pistol, and harbored no desire to live out his days with the blood of one of Miranda’s brothers on his hands.

Whatever the reasons, land records show that John Shelby Bishop purchased his three-hundred-acre parcel for the sum of $375. He soon set about hiring local men to help him build an ornate farmhouse on high ground not far from the banks of the Enoree River. Across the river was land that belonged to Jeremiah and Edith Holleman, and they kindly gave shelter to John and Miranda. The couple was married in the Holleman parlor by a circuit preacher, and Jeremiah Holleman spent his mornings working alongside artisans, cutting timber as they began the process of building the Bishop home. Like his father before him, John Shelby had a penchant for architecture, and paying generous wages to Jeremiah and his boys, he supervised every detail of the process. They completed the new home on schedule, and the women marveled at its beauty. It overlooked the river, sported a wraparound porch, and sat nicely among the oak, flowering dogwood, and eastern hemlock trees.

In this grand home, Miranda Buckner Bishop would give birth to seven children between 1802 and 1820. In order of birth, they were, George, Franklin, William, Isabella, Joseph, Robert, and Samuel. Daughter Isabella succumbed to measles when she was five. In the meantime, war with England came in the summer of 1812. In the beginning, John Shelby Bishop was dismissive, believing the conflict would prove to be a short-lived affair. England’s forces were bogged down in their war with Napoleon, and their army in Canada numbered no more than a few thousand. 

Conversely, President Madison had been quick with his attempt to activate nearly a half-million militiamen, even though there remained a strong anti-war sentiment throughout the states. Moreover, John was a pacifist at heart and, like his father, subscribed to the Jeffersonian theory of conflict settlement through diplomacy. Lastly, he had no desire to leave his family or desert the building of his dream.

By the summer of 1813, however, it was evident that John Shelby Bishop’s predictions of a short conflict and quick, negotiated settlement were faulty. So, in May of that year, he went off to serve and eventually became an officer in the dragoons. Initially, neighbor and good friend Jeremiah Holleman had insisted on going with him, but John convinced him to stay home to watch over the women and children, insisting that this would be the noblest service he could provide.

He returned home in March of 1815 and, to the chagrin of his sons, steadfastly refused to talk of his experience. Only to Miranda did he convey his disgust with the lack of organization, inept officer corps, and the carnage he’d witnessed.

Having had enough of farming, the oldest of the two Bishop boys, George and Franklin, bid their family farewell. No longer able to contain their desire to seek adventure and fortune somewhere in the western territories, they departed in 1824. Despite their father’s objections, the third-born son, William, set out to follow in his brother's footsteps two years later. The fourth of the boys, Joseph, had spoken of his desire to be a soldier since his father had taken the family to an Independence Day parade in Greenville years before, and he enlisted in the army in 1827. Having made a career of military service, he would die in Mexico twenty years later. After Joseph’s departure, John Shelby Bishop lamented the situation while talking to his wife on the porch.

My dream was for my sons to be either educated gentlemen or contented farmers, Miss Miranda. You should have corrected me along the way, for the present situation bears little resemblance to that which I envisioned.

Miranda placed her left hand on his right and smiled. Now, John Shelby Bishop, just imagine young men defying their father’s vision and running off to make their way in this world! Perhaps my memory’s become feeble, but it seems to me that I fell in love and ran off with a fellow just like that.

That was different.

How? How was it different, Mister Bishop?

Old Eustace, that’s how.

Who?

Old Eustace was one of the slaves on my father’s plantation. My grandfather taught Eustace to read, mostly from the Bible, and on account of a wager he’d made that a Negro was capable of learning. That slave proved all naysayers wrong, and my father won his bet. Eustace used to take me fishing, and he helped me memorize my Bible verses. One day, when I was just a little boy, we were sitting by the creek, and Eustace put his arm around me. He told me that no matter what happened, I should never let my heart be troubled because, no matter what we endure here, we all serve the Lord in our own way, and it was all about his kingdom anyhow.

Still holding his hand, Miranda leaned forward in her rocker, having noticed the tears on his face. John, in all the years I’ve known you and after all that we have endured, I’ve never seen you weep. You, sir, are my rock. Why do you weep now? Something happened to your Eustace?

I was ten years old. I rode out one morning, intent on finding Eustace and taking him fishing, when I came upon our old overseer beating him like an animal. No decent man would beat an animal so. I jumped down from my horse and punched that overseer right in his manhood as hard as I could. Battered and bloodied, Eustace rose with tears in his eyes, shook me hard, and told me to get on back, that I was only making trouble for myself. When my father found out what I’d done, he doled out my only whipping and beat me to within a good inch of my life. You see, Miranda, I didn’t run off for want of foolish adventure or some damned fool notion of glory like my boys did.

You ran off for your principles and your desires, Mister Bishop. They may have differed from those of your boys, but they are their father’s sons nonetheless.

I wanted nothing more than a life of peace, a life where a man could make his way without thriving off the misery and bondage of others.

And have it, you shall. I gave birth to all of our children, Mister Bishop, and I can assure you that Robert and Samuel share their father’s vision more so than the older boys, and something tells me that William will return. We shall have our peace, John.

He wiped his face and looked at her. You are as lovely as the day I stole you from your father, Miss Miranda. I do give thanks to our Lord that you conceded to share your life with me.

Four summers passed, and with two children at home, John Shelby and Miranda became slowly more aware of the differences between Robert and his younger brother, Samuel. Robert displayed a maturity beyond his years, was diligent and vivacious, and seemed to nearly worship his father. Conversely, Samuel was introverted, sometimes distant, and held a quiet adoration for his mother.

The winter of 1831 proved particularly harsh, and Miranda came down with a bad cold, a reality that seemed to trigger fear and depression in young Samuel. Determined to ensure that the situation not worsen, John Shelby consigned his wife to the bed, and despite her protestations, he and his boys waited on her hand and foot. Always robust in body and spirit, she showed significant progress after ten days, and it was on that tenth day that the sun finally came out to challenge the frigidity. Feeling better, she was filled with joy at the sight of the glorious light shining through her window and bade Samuel help her outside.

Your father will object, of course, but I am desperate for a minute or two of fresh air and sunlight, my youngest. Will you help me carry out this scheme?

I will help you, mother, Samuel answered with a smile.

He helped his mother move slowly downstairs and out onto the porch, smiling again as he watched her face light up. He held her arm as they made their way to the steps, but she slipped on the ice and suffered a break in her hip.

I know you thought you were doing right, but you hadn’t ought to have done that without asking Papa first, Robert said to his younger brother in the parlor that night.

Samuel’s only reply came in the form of quiet weeping.

It was just past ten that evening when John Shelby marched down the stairs and into their presence. Both boys immediately noted the pain and anger on their Papa's face.

Robert, you get on up to bed, John Shelby commanded, his eyes locked on the face of his youngest.

Papa, Samuel didn’t mean no harm. Mama asked him to—

I said, go! John Shelby thundered, and his voice seemed to rattle all the windows in the house.

What do you have to say for yourself, boy?

Samuel looked up into his father’s eyes, continued his weeping, and said nothing.

With a reddened face, John Shelby grabbed the boy’s arm. Did I not tell you boys that your mother was to stay in bed? he thundered.

Is Mama going to get well?

If she does, it’ll be no thanks to you!

You’re right, Papa. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but now Mama’s hurt because of me.

John Shelby Bishop was a giant of a man, standing nearly six foot three, and young Samuel watched him walk away after releasing him. As he stared at his back, he heard the torturous sounds of his father’s wailing. After a few minutes, John came back to him, fell to his knees, and took his son into his arms.

Dear God almighty, boy, I am sorry. I am so sorry! Will you please forgive me?

It’s me who needs the forgiving, Papa. I should have asked your permission before taking Mama outside. I’m sorry.

No, no! You listen to me now. We both know your mother had a powerful yearning for fresh air and sunshine. Even when I first came to know her, long before you were born, she remarked that spring was her favorite among the seasons. You did right, Samuel; you did right. Will you do something for me now?

Yes, Papa, I will.

I’m going to ride across the river to the Holleman place. Old Granny Holleman lives up in the hills past there, and they say she has the gift of healing. If I go fetch her, will you stay with your mama until I make my way back?

You know I will, Papa.

John Shelby Bishop drew a smile to his tear-stained face. Don’t you worry now, boy. Old Granny will know what to do.

Joined by Robert, Samuel spent the next two hours listening to his mother wail and watching her writhe in pain. Shortly after that, their father returned with Jeremiah Holleman, his wife, and old Granny Holleman.

This here’ll be in my hands now and the hands of the Lord. Y’all best go on and get some rest, Granny said, and Jeremiah handed a large sack of medicinals to the old woman before they left her to her work.

Edith Holleman made pallets for the boys downstairs and prayed with them. She then made coffee for John Shelby and her husband.

She’s in a bad way, Granny informed them when she came downstairs sometime later. Her hip’s broken, and I put on a poultice of feverwort. She's already worn out from her sufferin’, but I intend to give her a cup of tea if I can get some water to boil these roots. The tea will help her to rest. I said an incantation over her, too, so, short of the tea, all’s been done can be done for now.

Granny Holleman stayed with the Bishop family to nurse the ailing wife of John Shelby Bishop. Miranda continued to receive treatment, prayers, and chants. The boys washed out her linens when the bedding was changed and kept a fire going in the bedroom fireplace round the clock. Despite their best efforts, however, Miranda’s state continued to worsen, and she soon developed pneumonia. Several days later, she passed peacefully with John and the boys at her side. She was buried in the family plot, next to her only daughter and the boys who had not survived infancy.

From that point on, Mrs. Jeremiah Holleman routinely crossed the wooden bridge over Enoree River to check on John Shelby Bishop and his boys. As Miranda had done, she made sure that they were well fed and that the house stayed clean. She’d always admired Miranda, for though they lived their lives as farmers, she’d passed on the education inherent to her Virginia ancestry. The boys knew their Bible, spoke Latin and some Greek, and held knowledge of science and mathematics as well. What impressed Edith Holleman the most, however, was the fact that Robert and Samuel were skilled dancers and excellent piano players.

But there was no music in the Bishop household now, and Edith Holleman’s heart ached, particularly for poor Robert. Both John Shelby and Samuel kept mostly to themselves, and it soon became evident that Samuel was losing interest in his studies. Only Robert, despite his sadness, maintained something of a gleam in his eye, the same aura that had always surrounded his mother. Alas, as Edith Holleman saw the situation, the young man was now alone in this beautiful house.

In late April, John Shelby Bishop received a letter from his third-born son, William. It read:

Dearest Father and Mother,

I know it has been some time since I last sent a letter, and I hope and trust this one finds you all well.

I must confess that, as I learned, I lack something of that adventuresome spirit so possessed by my brothers George and Frank. As you’re likely aware, they continue to prosper in the trading business, but it is a life often fraught with as much danger as adventure, and I’ve found myself missing my native South Carolina and the reliability of farming. This being so, I have brought my Alma here to Anderson District and purchased a fair parcel where we intend to make our home. With your permission, we should like to visit you after the season is passed.

If you will, please pass along my well-wishes to my brothers and the Holleman family. I do hope to hear from you soon.

Your son,

William

Aware that his third-born had headed back to South Carolina, John Shelby Bishop sent a second letter to William informing him that his mother had passed away. So, like his father, William hired men to plant and tend his newly acquired land. Several days later, John Shelby Bishop smiled for the first time since his wife’s death. He was particularly happy to meet his daughter-in-law, the seventeen-year-old Alma. William had met his Cajun princess in New Orleans while there on business, and John understood why his son was smitten. Robert also admired her beauty, and during their two-week visit, he enjoyed William’s tales of life in the west and Alama’s of being on the bayou. Samuel was polite but still withdrawn.

The Hollemans were also happy to see William and his new bride, and once they returned to Anderson, Edith resumed her self-assigned duties in the Bishop household. Many times, John offered to pay her, and multiple times, she refused. One day, however, she came somewhat sheepishly to John to inform him that there was one favor she’d like in return.

John Shelby Bishop smiled. My dear Mrs. Holleman, am I to understand that for all the valuable services you have provided, you want my son to teach you to dance and play the piano?

John, is it too much to ask?

He laughed, bowed, and then kissed her hand. My dear Mrs. Holleman, if you will pardon me for saying so, you grossly underestimate your value. However, it is a pleasure doing business with you.

I’ve kicked up a little dust at barn dances here and there, but your Miranda was graceful and moved like a hawk floating on the wind or a swan upon the water. She appreciated the finer things, and I’d like to pass those on in my family, assuming I can learn. Stop laughing at me now! Already I feel a young girl’s blush upon my face!

Since Miranda and I arrived here, you and Jeremiah and your boys have been an extension of our own family, Mrs. Holleman. I have plenty of hired hands, so I can spare young Robert for this task, and I harbor no doubt that he will embrace it with great enthusiasm.

Indeed, John was correct, for Robert enjoyed passing along the gifts of his mother’s cultural teachings. It wasn’t long before Jeremiah and his sons were coming over to watch Edith learn the fine art of dancing. Though Jeremiah had first said that knowing how to do-si-do was enough for him, he soon became envious and asked her to teach him the waltz in the privacy of their home. Robert later remarked that Edith took to the piano like a duck