Produced by Al Haines
THE STORY OF A SUMMER;
OR,
JOURNAL LEAVES FROM CHAPPAQUA
BY
CECILIA CLEVELAND.
NEW YORK:
G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers.
LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO.
M.DCCC.LXXIV.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
G. W. CARLETON & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
To
MY DEAR COUSINS,
IDA AND GABRIELLE,
THIS
STORY OF A SUMMER
IS AFFECTIONATELY
Dedicated.
This little volume is in no sense a work of the imagination, but a
simple record of a pleasant summer's residence at Chappaqua, embracing
many facts and incidents heretofore unpublished, relating to one who
once occupied a large portion of the public mind. Believing that it
may interest many who care to know more of that portion of his busy
life which was not seen by the public, but which pertained to his home
circle, the author has been persuaded to print what was written merely
for the amusement of herself and friends.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Return to Chappaqua--A Walk over the Grounds--The Side-hill House--Our
First Sunday at Chappaqua--Drive to Mount Kisco--A Country Church--A
Dame Châtelaine--Our Domestic Surroundings
CHAPTER II.
Arrival of the Piano--Routine of a Day--Morning Toilettes--The
Dining-room--Pictures--Ida and Gabrielle--How occupied--The Evening
Mail--Musical Evening
CHAPTER III.
An Unexpected Visit--Morning Drives--Gabrielle's Ponies--A Repulsive
Object--A Visitor--The King of Sweden's Soup--Advantages of a Royal
Kitchen--Startling Experience--Ida's Letters--Strange Contents--A Lucky
Stone--Request for a Melodeon--Offers of Marriage--Arrival of a
Suitor--Reasons why he should marry Ida Greeley--He proves a
Lunatic--He is taken before a Magistrate--He is lodged in the County
Jail
CHAPTER IV.
A Visit from Papa--A Musical Squirrel--Letters--Croquet--Extracts from
Letters--Visitors--The Loss of the _Missouri_--The True Story of Ida's
Engagement
CHAPTER V.
Sunday in the Country--Proximity of a Meeting-house--How we pass our
Sundays--The House in the Woods--Ida's Glen--Mrs. Greeley's Favorite
Spring--The Children's Play-house--Gabrielle's Pets--Travelling in
1836--New York Society--Mr. Greeley's Friday Evenings--Mrs. Greeley as
a Bride--Her Accomplishments--A Letter concerning Mr. Greeley's Wedding
CHAPTER VI.
Visitors--Our Neighbors--The Chappaqua Croquet Club--Gabrielle's
Letter--A Riding Party--Summer Heat--The Music-room--Friends from the
City
CHAPTER VII.
Midsummer Day--An Artist's Visit--Ida's Letter--Moonlight on Croton
Lake--Morning Readings--Plato and Kohlrausch
CHAPTER VIII.
Story-telling--Mr. Greeley's Father--His Personal Appearance--His
Education--A Fine Voice--Mr. Greeley's Mother--A Handsome Woman--How
she is remembered in Vermont--Field Labor--Bankruptcy--A Journey to
Vermont--School Days--The Boy Horace--How he entertained his
Playmates--His First Ball--Separation from his Family
CHAPTER IX.
A Picnic at Croton Dam--The Waterworks--A Game of Twenty
Questions--Gabrielle as a Logician--Evangeline's
Betrothal--Marguerite's Letter--Description of
Chappaqua--Visitors--Edmonia Lewis
CHAPTER X.
Cataloguing the Library--A Thousand Volumes--Contrasting Books--Some
Rare Volumes--Mr. Greeley's Collection of Paintings--Authenticity of
the Cenci Questioned--A Portrait of Galileo--Portrait of Martin
Luther--Portrait of Mr. Greeley at Thirty--Powers' Proserpine--Hart's
Bust of Mr. Greeley--Mosaics and Medallions
CHAPTER XI.
The Fourth of July--A Quaker Celebration--The House in the Woods--Mrs.
Greeley's Life there--Pickie--Mary Inez--Raffie--Childhood of Ida and
Gabrielle--Heroism of Mrs. Greeley--The Riots of 1863--Mrs. Greeley
defends her House against the Mob
CHAPTER XII.
Pen Portraits--Lela--Majoli--Guerrabella and Celina--Their
Characteristics
CHAPTER XIII.
Biography of Mr. Greeley--Gabrielle's Questions--Mrs. Cleveland's
Corrections--The Boy Horace not Gawky, Clownish, or a Tow-head--His
Parents not in Abject Want--Mr. Greeley's Letter about his Former
Playmates--Young Horace and his Girl Friends--He Corrects their Grammar
and Lectures them upon Hygiene--He disapproves of Corsets
CHAPTER XIV.
The Morning Mail--A Letter to Mrs. Cleveland--Strange Contents--Ida's
Letter Bag--Appeals for Money, for Clothing, and for her Hand--An
Original Letter from a Trapper
CHAPTER XV.
Life in the Woods of Pennsylvania--Journey from Vermont to Pennsylvania
in 1826--Travelling on Canal-boats--Incidents by the Way--Home in the
Wilderness--Aggressions of Bears and Wolves
CHAPTER XVI.
A Birthday--A Surprise--The Day celebrated by a Dinner--An Awkward
Mistake--A Queen of Fashion--A Drive to Tarrytown--A Poem to Ida
CHAPTER XVII.
Gabrielle and her Embroidery--Life in Pennsylvania
continued--Sugar-making--Horrible Incident--A Woman devoured by
Wolves--A Domestic Picture--Evening Readings--The Library of Mr.
Greeley's Father--Mr. Greeley's Mother intellectually considered--Her
Education--Mr. Greeley's Eldest Sister--She teaches School at the Age
of Twelve
CHAPTER XVIII.
Visitors--A Sunday Drive--Croton Lake by Daylight--A Sail--A Sudden
Squall--Anxiety about our Fate--Miraculous Escape from
Drowning--Arrival of a Pretty Cousin--A Child Poetess
CHAPTER XIX.
Mr. Greeley visits his Family in Pennsylvania--He expounds Mathematics
and Philosophy to his Brother and Sisters--Fishing and Bee
Hunting--Forest Fires--A Subsequent Visit--He returns as Editor of the
_New Yorker_--He writes the 'Faded Stars'--Characteristics of Mr.
Greeley's Brother--His Children--Mr. Greeley's Younger Sisters--Their
Education
CHAPTER XX.
A Quiet Household--Absence of Marguerite and Gabrielle--Amusing Letters
from them--A Gypsy Fortune-teller--Marguerite returns with a
Visitor--The Harvest Moon--Preparing for Company--Arranging the Blue
Room--Intense Anticipation--"'He Cometh Not,' She Said"
CHAPTER XXI.
The Story of Mr. Greeley's Parents continued--He accompanies his Mother
to New Hampshire--Her Sisters--Three Thanksgivings in One Year--Pickie
as a Baby--His Childhood--Mrs. Greeley's Careful Training--His
Playthings--His Death--A Letter from Margaret Fuller
CHAPTER XXII.
The Friends' Seminary--The Principal Chappaqua
Residences--Reminiscences of Paris during the War--An Accomplished
Lady--Her Voice--Festivities--A Drive to Rye Lake--Making Tea on the
Beach--A Sail at Sunset--Fortune-telling by Firelight--The Drive
Home--Sunday Morning--A Row on the Pond--Dramatic Representations in
the Barn--A Drive to Lake Wampus--Starlight Row
CHAPTER XXIII.
Marriage of a Cousin--A Pretty Bride--Letters--Home Circle Complete--A
Letter of Adventures--Wedding Cards--A Musical Marriage--Housekeeping
under Difficulties--Telegraphic Blunders--A Bust of Mr. Greeley--More
Visitors
CHAPTER XXIV.
"All that's Bright must Fade"--Departures--Preparing the House for the
Winter--Page's Portrait of Pickie--Packing up--Studious Habits of the
Domestics--The Cook and her Admirers--Adieu to Chappaqua
ILLUSTRATIONS
The Side-Hill House
The Spring
The Rail-Road Station
The House in the Woods
The Children's Play House
The Stone Barn
THE STORY OF A SUMMER;
OR,
JOURNAL LEAVES FROM CHAPPAQUA.
CHAPTER I.
Return to Chappaqua--A Walk over the Grounds--The Sidehill House--Our
First Sunday at Chappaqua--Drive to Mount Kisco--A Country Church--A
Dame Châtelaine--Our Domestic Surroundings.
CHAPPAQUA, WESTCHESTER Co.,
_New York_, May 28, 1873
Again at dear Chappaqua, after an absence of seven months. I have not
the heart to journalize tonight, everything seems so sad and strange.
What a year this has been--what bright anticipations, what overwhelming
sorrow!
_May 30_.
I have just returned from a long ramble over the dear old place; first
up to the new house so picturesquely placed upon a hill, and down
through the woods to the cool pine grove and the flower-garden. Here I
found a wilderness of purple and white lilacs, longing, I thought, for
a friendly hand to gather them before they faded; dear little
bright-eyed pansies, and scarlet and crimson flowering shrubs, a
souvenir of travel in England, with sweet-scented violets striped blue
and white, transplanted from Pickie's little garden at Turtle Bay long
years ago.
[Illustration: The Side-Hill House.]
Returning, I again climbed the hill, and unlocked the doors of the new
house; that house built expressly for Aunt Mary's comfort, but which
has never yet been occupied. Every convenience of the architect's art
is to be found in this house, from the immense, airy bedroom, with its
seven windows, intended for Aunt Mary, to _a porte cochère_ to protect
her against the inclemency of the weather upon returning from a drive.
But this house, in the building of which she took so keen an interest,
she was not destined to inhabit, although with that buoyancy of mind
and tenacity to life that characterized her during her long years of
weary illness, she contemplated being carried into it during the early
days of last October, and even ordered fires to be lighted to carry off
the dampness before she tried her new room. By much persuasion,
however, she was induced to postpone her removal from day to day; and
finally, as she grew weaker and weaker, she decided to abandon that
plan, and journey to New York while she could. In two weeks more she
had left us forever.
_June 1_.
Our first Sunday at Chappaqua. We have a little church for a next-door
neighbor, in which services of different sects are held on alternate
Sundays, the pulpit being hospitably open to all denominations
excepting Papists. Three members of our little household,
however--mamma, Marguerite, and I--belong to the grand old Church of
Rome; so the carriage was ordered, and with our brother in religion,
Bernard, the coachman, for a pioneer, we started to find a church or
chapel of the Latin faith. At Mount Kisco, a little town four miles
distant, Bernard thought we might hear Mass, "but then it's not the
sort of church you ladies are used to," he added, apologetically; "it's
a small chapel, and only rough working people go there."
I was quite amused at the idea that the presence of poor people was any
objection, for is it not a source of pride to Catholics that _their_
church is open alike to the humblest and richest; so with a suggestive
word from Bernard, Gabrielle's spirited ponies flew
"Over the hills, and far away."
A perpetual ascent and descent it seemed--a dusty road, for we are
sadly in want of rain, and few shade-trees border the road; but once in
Mount Kisco, the novelty of the little chapel quite compensated for the
disagreeable features of our journey there. A tiny chapel indeed--a
plain frame building, with no pretence to architectural beauty. It was
intended originally, I thought, for a Protestant meeting-house, as the
cruciform shape, so conspicuous in all Catholic-built churches was
wanting here. The whitewashed walls were hung with small, rude
pictures, representing the _Via Crucis_ or Stations of the Cross, and
the altar-piece--not, I fancy, a remarkable work of art in its
prime--had become so darkened by smoke, that I only _conjectured_ its
subject to be St. Francis in prayer.
Although it was Whit-Sunday the altar was quite innocent of ornament,
having only six candles, and a floral display of two bouquets. The
seats and kneeling-benches were uncushioned, and the congregation was
composed, as Bernard said, entirely of the working class; but the
people were very clean and respectable in their appearance, and fervent
in their devotions as only the Irish peasantry can be.
The pastor, an intelligent young Irishman, apparently under thirty, had
already said Mass at Pleasantville, six miles distant, and upon
arriving at Mount Kisco he found that about twenty of his small
congregation wished to receive Communion, as it was a festival;
consequently, he spent the next hour not _literally_ in the
confessional, for there was none, but in the tiny closet dignified by
the name of a vestry. From thence, the door being open, we could with
ease, had we had nothing better to do, have heard all of the priest's
advice to his penitents.
This ceremony over, the young Father came out in his black cassock, and
taking up his vestments which lay upon the altar-steps, he proceeded
with the utmost nonchalance to put them on, not hesitating to display a
long rent in his surplice, and a decidedly ragged sleeve.
The Mass was a Low one, and the congregation were too poor to have an
organ or organist. Quite a contrast to a Sunday at St. Stephen's or
St. Francis Xavier's, but the _Mass_ is always the same, however humble
the surroundings.
_June 3_.
We are unusually fortunate, I think, in our domestic surroundings.
Servants are proverbially the _bête noire_ of American ladies, and the
prospect of having to train some unskilled specimens of foreign
peasantry weighed heavily, I fancy, upon our beautiful Ida in her new
responsibility of a young _Dame Châtelaine_. However, we have been, as
I said, singularly successful in obtaining servants.
To my great delight, there is not one ugly name in our little
household, although composed of eight members, commencing with _Queen_
Esther as mamma has been named; then we four girls--_la Dame
Châtelaine_, with her fair face, dark, pensive eyes, and modest
dignity; Gabrielle, or _Tourbillon_, our brilliant pet, and the
youngest of our quartette, although her graceful figure rises above the
rest of us; my sister Marguerite, _la Gentille Demoiselle_; and I,
Cecilia.
Then come the household retinue: Bernard, the coachman, already
introduced, a smart-looking young Irishman, whom the maids always find
very beguiling; Lina, the autocrat of the kitchen, a little,
wiry-looking woman from Stockholm, formerly cook, so _she_ says, to
King Charles of Sweden; and Minna, the maid.
Minna is a pretty young Bavarian, who has been only fifteen days in the
Land of Liberty, but she has already learnt, I am amused to see, _not_
to address a lady as "_gnädige_ Frau," or "Fräulein"--a style of
address imperative in South Germany from a maid to her mistress. Minna
has not, however, imbibed all of the democratic principles that will, I
fear, come to her only too soon, for she has not yet learnt to emulate
her mistress in dress. It is really quite refreshing to see a servant
dressed as a servant. Minna is the perfection of neatness, and her
plain stuff or print gowns are _sans reproche_ in their freshness. In
the matter of aprons she must be quite reckless, for they always look
as if just from the ironing-table. They are made, too, in an
especially pretty fashion that I have never before seen out of Munich.
Scorning chignons, Minna appears with her own luxuriant hair in massive
braids wound about her well-shaped head, and as to-day is Sunday and a
_Fest-tag_, she adorns herself with a large shell-comb. She has very
pretty, coquettish ways, that have already melted the heart of our
hitherto unsusceptible Bernard, and it is quite charming to hear her
attempts to converse with him in her broken English.
Minna came to me this morning directly after breakfast, and said,
"Where shall I go to church, Fräulein Cecilia?"
"I do not really know, Minna," I replied. "You are a Lutheran, I
suppose?"
"Yes, Fräulein Cecilia."
"There is no church of that sort here," I said, "but there is a
Reformed Church next door."
With a very doubtful expression, she said: "I will see, Fräulein. And
_bitte_, is not the _Pfingsten_ a Fest-tag in America? In our country,
you know, it is _more_ than Sunday, and the people always amuse
themselves."
I explained to her as clearly as I could, that Pfingsten (Whit-Sunday)
was only a Fest-tag in her church, mine, and the Church of England, and
that it was never in this country a Fest-tag, outside of the religious
observance.
A very perplexed face was the result of my explanations; why Pfingsten
should not be Pfingsten the world over, and a public holiday with all
sorts of merry-makings, she could not understand.