Thus, one can see a clear division between the old “settler” families and the swarm of “new persons” who had moved into the area merely to be employed by the university, at decidedly modest salaries.
(It was held against Woodrow Wilson, by individuals like Adelaide McLean Burr, that, being too poorly paid to afford a motorcar, the president of the university was obliged to bicycle much of the time; this is a cruel sort of snobbery, indeed. Yet we must laugh with Adelaide, for she is very witty!) Naturally there was some overlapping as in the case of my father Pearce van Dyck, the son of one of the most distinguished “county” families, who was also a scholar and philosopher of national reputation, with degrees from Cambridge (U.K.) as well as Princeton. To reason more finely, Ellen Wilson was related, on her paternal grandmother’s side, to the Randolphs of Virginia, by way of which she might have claimed a familial connection with the wealthy FitzRandolphs of Princeton, except, we have to assume, Mrs. Wilson lacked the courage to do so, and risk being snubbed.
As to Josiah and Annabel, the principal characters of The Accursed—though they are wholly sympathetic, and indeed very good-hearted individuals, it is inescapable that they, too, are snobs—all unconsciously and helplessly, as they are Slades.
(Excerpted from the secret journal of Mrs. Adelaide McLean Burr, April–May 1905)
This invaluable journal, transcribed in a secret code which no other historian has “cracked” until now, was originally discovered amid a miscellany of papers, household accounts, and other memorabilia, at Maidstone House, long after Mrs. Burr’s premature death. At the time, inscribed in an eccentric and near-unreadable code, in a spidery hand, in lavender ink, in the Crimson Calfskin Book, the journal was not recognized for its worth.
The present narrator is hesitant to put himself forward as the sole living person capable of reading Mrs. Burr’s journal with full comprehension, yet I think that false modesty is remiss; and rival historians of the period are hereby warned against infringing upon my labors, which are fully protected by copyright.
(I hope it will not seem over-protective of my rights, but I have decided not to reveal to the reader the way in which, after months of frustration, I managed to “crack” Adelaide’s code, which would seem, to the untrained eye, the most egregious gibberish, festooned with eccentric Theosophical symbols and doodles.)
The reader should be informed that Adelaide McLean Burr was stricken with a mysterious “malaise” shortly after her wedding, in September 1891, to Horace Hudiger Burr, Jr., which manifested itself in a variety of physical and mental complaints, including partial paralysis, extreme fatigue, and breathlessness; among the female invalids of Princeton at this time, Mrs. Burr was quite the most prominent, and often sent “bulletins” to friends whom she could not see socially. It was not uncommon that the invalid would ask to be carried downstairs, to greet distinguished visitors at Maidstone House, for instance Mr. and Mrs. Grover Cleveland, when they were new to town, or to visit with a select sisterhood of Princeton ladies at teatime primarily; though it was believed that she had not left the confines of the Maidstone property since returning from her Bermuda honeymoon in October 1891.
Another detail that the reader should know: Maidstone House, the ancestral home of the Pembroke Burrs, who had, like the Slades, originally settled in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, but moved to the Crown Colony of New Jersey in the 1700s, is one of the more striking of the stately homes in the West End of Princeton. It is located at 164 Hodge Road, having been built in 1803 in a quaint (and somewhat forbidding) style of “bastardized” Romanesque and Gothic, in somber-hued granite tending toward the luminous, depending upon the strength of the light. With more than twenty-five rooms in the house proper, and a dozen more in the old carriage house and in the slaves’ quarters to the rear, Maidstone exerts a curious spell upon the observer: suggesting, in its somewhat blunt, foursquare architecture, and its towering chimneys and exceptionally tall, narrow, and “brooding” windows, frequently kept shuttered, an unusual blend of the funereal and the sublime.
As the reader knows, my childhood was passed at 87 Hodge Road, which is but a half-block from Maidstone House. It was a childish fancy, though taken very seriously by our impressionable servants, and other household workers and tradesmen who came often to the house, that Maidstone House was “haunted”—well before Adelaide Burr’s horrific death.
_____ . UNSPEAKABLE!—the incident of which all Princeton whispers this morning.
But how shall a lady inquire of it?
I know not for certain when it took place—(two nights ago?)—& whether the woman to whom it happened—(an outrage, was it?—so delicious!)—was the sort to embark out alone, at dusk; whether she was a resident of Princeton proper, or dwelt in some pokey little village nearby.
How unjust, to be denied this crucial information!—but if the crime against the lady be UNSPEAKABLE how then can it be spoken of, to a lady? Horace will tell me nothing. Horace is grim and close-mouthed like all of his kin. Horace murmurs only, in response to my teasing inquiries, “Nothing is wrong, dear Adelaide, that would concern you”—and so the matter rests; for Horace would shield his Puss from all wickedness, as he has—beloved husband!—for the fourteen years of our union.
_____ . (My handsome curly-mustach’d husband could never guess, in his innocence, how wicked his Puss is, in her heart; how bold & daring & untrammeled her thoughts!)
_____ . An afternoon of tea & tarts & luscious mocha trifles. Yet how dull, when Puss craved only to hear news of the UNSPEAKABLE in our midst, of which ladies are not supposed to know; & the chatter was all of prune-face Dr. Wilson & glad-hander Andrew West quarreling in their silly Teacup. I know, I am considered “rude”—at the very least, “irreverent”—scarcely disguising a yawn at the L E N T I S S I M O of Mrs. FitzRandolph’s gossip; & Cousin Wilhelmina, that overgrown child, shot me a glance of mischievous sympathy while her mother droned on & on accounting of who is for Dr. Lantern-Jaw Wilson & who for Dean Sixty-Two-Around-the-Vest West among the board of trustees; for it suddenly seems, the entire town is divided. Trustees & alumni of the university & powerful widows & of course the Clevelands with their considerable weight (Grover is chair of the board, & it is said strongly favors West), etcetera! Puss consoled herself by eating a half-dozen of the mocha trifles, with dollops of extra cream—which had the effect of making me quite ill that evening, as I should have known. But ah!—what measures Puss will take, out of exquisite B O R E D O M.
_____ . It is teasingly unclear: the UNSPEAKABLE seems to have involved one of our most distinguished West End households!
So cruel & frustrating, no more details are yet reveal’d.
_____ . & another UNSPEAKABLE incident has been hinted-at: this, involving ex-President Cleveland who somehow came to be, so very mysteriously, at the old Craven house on Rosedale Road, in a company of individuals including many of the Winslow Slade family—thus, our leading citizens; a gathering that must have had something to do with the upcoming Slade-Bayard nuptials. But Horace quite disappointed, he seems sincerely to know nothing of this incident which took place only last Sunday.
_____ . Dr. Boudinot comes to visit. In the wake of the mocha trifles such gastric distress, & 18 hrs. malaise, Death is preferable.
Doctor must be fetched by motorcar. Yet another medication is prescribed for Puss. She has not had a clear head in 14 yrs.
This new medication in the form of chalky pills is fetched from the Princeton pharmacy by Abraham: the most coal-black of boys, new on our staff, related to our cook & housekeeper Minnie. At least, I think they are related. I think these are their ridiculous names.
_____ . On Mother Burr’s silken chaise longue