Not a Creature Was Stirring, Not Even a Mouse: The Ever-Silent Drayton Hall

Laini Farrare, WPAMC ’24

Our Southern Field Study was a roller coaster of sights, sounds, and wonderful BBQ of course. Something that I thought about deeply during our travels was the emotional ride that accompanies visiting the South, with its vast landscapes, looming plantation homes, and silent presence. This silence does not only represent the audio landscape, but the physical and visual silence as well. Our visit to Drayton Hall, right outside the city of Charleston (Fig. 1), helped me to understand how the staging of a once lived-in space communicates ideas about how sound can be visual.

Drayton hall sits on the Ashley River, northwest of Charleston, South Carolina. The property was once a bustling plantation that was fueled by labor of enslaved Blacks, who made up most of the people who lived at Drayton Hall. The enslaved quarters no longer survive, which is a very common occurrence at Southern plantations, further limiting our understanding of the lived experiences of enslaved people. The Main House at Drayton Hall (Fig. 1) was constructed in the mid-eighteenth century in the Palladian style, and is outfitted with elaborate carvings, entablature, and an almost-floating carved mahogany staircase (Fig. 2). The house is curiously presented as being empty, with only modern benches for visitors to sit on. The original furniture and decorative arts from the house are displayed in galleries at the Visitor Center (Fig. 3).

The house and grounds are remarkably silent. One could interpret this as being peaceful, or it could be interpreted as an erasure of the lived experiences of those who lived at Drayton Hall. The absence of enslaved quarters and the separation of the possessions from the Main House evoke a visual and physical silence. Even though buildings and furniture do not actively make noise without interference, these objects signal the ability to interact with them. The ability to own such possessions and outfit one’s house with such luxury commodities against the backdrop of a fashionable interior meant different things to different people. To the Drayton family, the tall double mahogany staircase marked their ascent into the ultra-wealth of the colonial/antebellum elite, a positive experience. To the enslaved people who meticulously cleaned the stairs and most likely used them more than anyone else, it symbolized their ascent into the bedrooms and private spaces of those who brutally kept them against their will, a negative experience. All these experiences consisted of sound, not only the sound of walking up the steps, but also the visual connection of sight and sound, which is different for everyone but nonetheless there.

Drayton Hall is a fascinating, but quiet look into museum interpretation and the use of space. The choice to display an interior space, devoid of it human experiences is an interesting direction that museums, particularly those that were the forced homes of enslaved Blacks, have now taken. How can visual and physical silence tell stories? Is it possible?