RIDGELY MANOR: THE GREAT SUMMER Part I wamiji is starting today Allen Line [Allan State Line]. Numidian. from Glasgow. a telegram just received says!" Thus Josephine MacLeod wrote to Mrs. Bull on August 17, 1899. Her letter, full of heavy undescorings, continued: Do what you choose. Come at any hour--you are always welcome. You better meet me in New York & we will go together to meet our Prophet. He ought to be 10 days en route--but I will write you definitely tomorrow the day the ship is expected & you meet me in town. Do not tell Mrs Crossley a word. Let her stay in Princeton so we can have our Prophet without one thorn or criticism--in all his holiness. I think I may keep Miss Stumm over--she has her worth. I am in Heaven. Lovingly Jojo (Mrs. Crossley was a London friend of Mrs. Bull's who had crossed the Atlantic with her in June. She was not well and not, it would seem, in full accord with Swamiji's views. The more fortunate Maud Stumm was an artist in her late twenties who had met Swamiji once or twice during his first visit to the West and who evidently had admired him. She was now visiting Ridgely.) Five days later, Miss MacLeod again wrote to "Saint Sara," telling her, with more underscorings, the exact date of Swamiji's arrival in New York: Swamiji's boat the Numidian sailed on August 17th & is due in New York on Monday August 28th [double underscore] so a letter just announced. So you take the midnight train on Sunday, arriving at 6.--go directly to 21 [21 East Thirty-fourth Street, the Leggetts' town house]--where a telegram is to be sent me announcing the day & hour of arrival. Betty [Besse Leggett] goes to East Hampton on Friday & will meet you in New York on Monday, and I also will be in town that day by noon. Our Prophet again with us! I have invited Mrs. Coulston to go to 21 & to come up here for 3 days visit--not one uncongenial element! God is kind. If quite convenient you might bring up a trunk of blankets-in case 18 single ones aren't enough--besides 10 eider down quilts. What do you think? I can easily bring a few pairs from our town house & this will be less complicated so do not worry or trouble about it. I am so thankful to know you are coming to us alone. The word alone was underscored five or six times, as though to ward off the uncongenial element. But as things happened, Miss MacLeod's whole exuberant plan for her fiend miscarried. Just at that time Olea, spending a week or so at Camp Percy, Mr. Leggetts' fishing camp in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, became ill. She returned to her mother's home in Cambridge, where Mrs. Bull could not, or would not, leave her, and thus almost six weeks were to pass before they arrived at Ridgely Manor. Even Miss MacLeod's own long-dreamed-of plan to meet Swamiji's ship, to see him walking with his wonderfully majestic stride down the gangplank, his face breaking into radiance at the sight of his old friends, was not fulfilled, for the Numidian steamed into the New York harbor two or three hours earlier than scheduled. Fortunately, three people were at the dock to meet Swamiji and Swami Turiyananda--Maud Stumm, who had come down from Ridgely, Mrs. Coulston, acting treasurer of the New York Vedanta Society (Swami Abhedananda was out of town), and a Mr. Sydney Clarke, to whom Miss Stumm had telegraphed, asking him to take care of the Swamis' baggage. He was "tired and ill-looking," Miss Stumm wrote later of Swamiji's arrival. "He was carrying most carefully a big bottle wrapped in papers that were torn and ragged; this precious bottle, which he refused to relinquish before reaching Binnewater, contained a wonderful kind of sauce like curry; brought thus by hand from India. 'For Jo!' he said." Miss Stumm mentions that "the party from Ridgely" (presumably Miss MacLeod and the Leggetts) did not arrive until ten o'clock that morning, "and so disappointed!" 'we all went back [to Ridgely Manor] together," she wrote' but whether "all" included Sister Christine and Mrs. Funke, one does not know. It is certain, however, that Swamiji spent almost no time in the hot, humid city, but after a stop at the Leggetts' town house was whisked away with all speed. The train trip from New York to Ridgely, or, more precisely, from Weehawken, New Jersey, to Kingston in Ulster County, New York, 100 miles or so up the Hudson, was a lovely ride. On the right lay the broad, deep river, straight almost as a canal, with its traffic of ships and ferries and its lighthouses in midstream, like Victorian dwellings set adrift; on one's left rose the tall Hudson Highlands pressing close at first to the water's edge, later on flattening out into the wide river valley with its farms and pastures, its orchards, its green, sun-splashed woods, its little towns, its steepled churches and its distant mountains. At Kingston one boarded another train for Binnewater, a tiny station some seven miles west. Here the party was no doubt met by a surrey and spanking pair and driven the four miles to Ridgely Manor along a gently rolling country road, past apple orchards, corn and pumpkin fields, wooded hills, and occasional farm buildings. Most of these last were of the nineteenth century--neat red barns and white houses scalloped along the eaves with wooden rickrack called Hudson River Bracketed; but here and there a small weathered stone house, dating back to pre-Revolutionary days, stood half hidden among protective elms and chestnuts. Half a m ile beyond Stone Ridge, the small village through which the road passed, the horses turned into the avenue of Ridgely and trotted up to the Manor--a graceful and welcoming house said to have been designed by a pupil of the famous architect Stanford White and as dignified, substantial, and unassuming as its owner, Francis Leggett. Mr. Leggett had acquired the property in Ulster County in 1892, before he had even dreamed he would be bringing Besse MacLeod Sturges there as his bride. It consisted of several small farms, so that the estate, when it became all of a piece, included within its 130 acres, two substantial buildings. These were the so-called "Little Cottage"--actually a fairly large house--and "The Inn," which had been a select boarding house run by two maiden ladies. In a position more or less between these two houses Francis Leggett had built the Manor, an imposing mansion of clapboard siding, tall-columned porticos and loggia, hip and saddle roofs, and massive chimneys, its architecture reminiscent, on the whole, of the gracious mansions of the old South. In addition, he had enlarged the "Little Cottage" and had built a few small farm buildings, a stable and carriage house, with a roomy apartment above, and, for the entertainment of his guests, a large playhouse known as the "Casino." This last was equipped even to bowling alleys, and was adjoined by a tennis court. As though this were not enough, he had built a large house, known as the "Big Cottage" and also as "The Clematis"--a name more becoming to its size and dignity. This house was originally meant for his architect's use, perhaps in part payment for architectural fees, perhaps simply as a gesture of friendship. Between the various and widely scattered houses lay some ten acres of sweeping lawns, cool to the eye but in 1899 largely unshaded, for the trees planted by Frances Leggett were still small. Only two old chestnuts, huge and spreading, and an enormous maple (which still stands) gave relief in the hot summer afternoons. Around the house were shrubs of all sorts, but these, too, had been selected by Mr. Leggett and were not yet luxuriant. Indeed the house and grounds still had the bare look of newness, but by the same token one had an unobstructed view of fields and wooded hills and, beyond to the west and north, some twelve to twenty miles distant, of the blue Catskills and, to the south, much closer and clearer, of the Shawangunks. The height of neither of these ranges (Mohonk, the tallest peak of the Shawangunks, rose 1,542 feet above sea level) would have impressed Swamiji, for both - particularly the lattcr-were geologically ancient, honed down and buffed, by millennia of rain, snow, and wind into mountains barely higher than foothills of Himalayan foothills. But they were lovely nonetheless, with their soft, many-folded contours that seemed to move with the passing day, changing color and form. This was not Swamiji's first visit to Ridgely Manor. He had been here twice before: once in April of 1895, when he had taken a short vacation from his New York classes, and again in the Christmas season of the same year, at which time he had been the guest not of Frank Leggett alone but of both Betty and Frank, they having been married in Paris that September. In 1899, the "heavenly pair," as Swamiji called them, were still just that, rhapsodically in love, regretting the days when Frank Leggett's business in New York took him from Ridgely to the city, still cherishing their long weekends together. It was all harmony and joy at Ridgely that summer of 1899-- "the great summer," as it came to be called. And a great summer it was (though strictly speaking, it was autumn, too), for the group of people that centered around a saint and prophet of the highest magnitude formed a house party such as the world had probably never known before and very likely will not know soon again. Indeed those ten weeks were rare even for Swamiji, as seldom (never before in the West) had he spent so long a time vacationing in one place. He and Swami Turiyananda were given the "Little Cottage," which stood about a five-minute stroll from the main houseacross the generous and open lawns in a northwesterly direction. This "Little Cottage" (afterward always called "Swamiji's Cottage" by Miss MacLeod) contained five small bedrooms on the second floor, all with pitched ceilings. On the ground floor were two small sitting rooms with fireplaces, a sizable dining room, a large kitchen, a small laundry, and a wide front porch. Almost certainly, Swamiji occupied one of the two front bedrooms and Swaim' Turiyananda the other. The three back bedrooms were not so comfortable and ran, moreover, one into the other, the far two having no alternate means of access. In connection with the Swamis' sleeping quarters a charming story was told in later years by Miss MacLeod to Swami Nikhilananda, who pass it on to me. Mrs. Leggett, coming to inspect the accommodations in the cottage, found Swami Turiyananda's mattress and bedding on the floor of his room. "What is the matter, Swami?" she exclaimed. "Is something wrong with the bed?" "No, no," he assured her; "the bed is fine. But, you see, I cannot bring myself to sleep on the same level with Swamiji--so I have put the mattress on the floor." One might add here that so great was the love and reverence that Swami Turiyananda, always showed for Swamiji that Mrs. Leggett thought (at first, at least) that he was Swamiji's disciple. Writing to Mrs. Bull on September 2, she commented, "This rest is Peace to [Swamiji]. He loves being away with his disciple--who watches every gesture and is interesting in his devotion to his Master." The "Big Cottage," which stood farther from the Manor than the "Little Cottage,,- though in the same direction, was a commodious house with ten bedrooms and a curving driveway of its own. It was to be assigned to Mrs. Bull and Olea and very probably Mrs. Marian Briggs, a close friend of Mrs. Bull's, with a pair of servants to take care of them. But big as the "Big Cottage" may have been, it was dwarfed--in impressiveness, at least, by the Manor, which encompassed several living rooms, seven second-story bedrooms, and, on its top floor under the roof, quarters for a staff of servants. The Manor accommodated the family--Mr. and Mrs. Francis Leggett;Josephine MacLeod; Alberta Sturges, Mrs. Leggett's twenty-two-year-old daughter by her first marriage; the baby, not-yet-three-year-old France Leggett, and her nurse, Miss Looker--and at one time or another during that summer and autumn various transient house guests, such as Mrs. Coulston, whom we have already met; Sarah Ellen Waldo from Brooklyn, who was invited for a day in early October; Mrs. Florence (Milward) Adams an old friend from Chicago and well-known lecturer on dramatic arts, physical culture, and metaphysics; Miss Florence Guernsey, the daughter of Swamiji's good friend Dr. Egbert Guernsey of New York; Emma Thursby and her sister Ina; and a Dr. Helmer, a practitioner of osteopathy, which science, then coming into vogue, was Miss MacLeod's most recent enthusiasm. Other guests were more or less permanent--Sister Nivedita, for instance, and a professor Marchand, who had been brought by the Leggetts from France to help the family polish up its French in preparation for the following summer, when everyone, including Swamiji was to go to Paris for the International Exposition. (An old man, Professor Marchand fell ill during his stay at Ridgely and there died. During his illness, as Mrs. Frances Leggett tells in Late and Soon, Miss MacLeod had visited the old man in his room, and he had embraced her and said to her, "This is the house of God!" And one cannot but think that Ridgely Manor was indeed that summer a veritable Benares in which to die.)

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Vivekananda Retreat, Ridgely 101 Leggett Road, Stone Ridge, New York 12484 845 / 687-4574 - info@ridgely.org