Ohio History Journal

ECHOES OUT OF THE PAST

 

BY CAROLINE M. ZIMMERMAN

 

The museum of the Clark County (Ohio) Historical Society

houses many objects worthy of song or story, many objects around

which cluster a wealth of romantic lore fit to inspire a modern saga

of great worth and beauty. Of all these objets d'art there is

doubtless none that carries a greater feminine appeal than a quaint

little piano more than a century old, the first, in fact, to have been

brought into the county. There it stands, encased in ebony and

rosewood inlaid with tiny ebony lines. The ivory keys are yellow

with age, but the memories that cling to them are fresh as the

vigor of youth.

Purchased in Philadelphia in 1832 by Pierson Spining for his

little daughter, Mary Catherine, it began there its long trek over

the mountains of Pennsylvania to Pittsburgh where it was trans-

ferred to a flat-boat and floated down the Ohio River to Cincinnati

and was again loaded into a covered wagon to be transported to

its final home in what was then the frontier village of Springfield.

Mary Catherine was twelve years old at this time. Harriet Beecher

and her sister had just opened a school for young ladies in Cin-

cinnati where her father had assumed the presidency of Lane

Theological Seminary. Thither Mary Catherine was sent to acquire

further erudition and the graces of refined society, of which skill

in playing the piano was one.

Even though it required many hours to journey to Cincinnati

at that time, the trip there must have seemed very much like a

holiday to our little lady, for the first night could be spent at

Grandfather Spining's big house near Dayton where were still to

be found numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. Grandfather Isaac

Spining was judge of the circuit court, and has since been de-

scribed as "the most influential and prominent of the earliest

settlers" at that place. So Mary's vision of life expanded as she

listened to the table talk there.

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Then on to Oxford for a cay or two with Aunt Harriet, her father's sister, who was the wife of William Holmes McGuffey. "Uncle McGuffey," as he was always called by nieces and nephews, was a professor at Miami University where he taught classes of young men every day, but he took time off daily to teach her cousins, the three little McGuffeys, and the children of some of his colleagues, how to read. He had a theory that the cause of

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ECHOES OUT OF THE PAST                 145

 

many failures of students in college was owing to the lack of

training in reading in early life, a deficiency in elementary work

he was trying to correct. He had a queer octagonal-shaped table

with little odd-shaped drawers where he kept clippings and copies

of simple prose passages and poetry as well as compositions of

his own. These were assorted according to the various ages of his

little pupils. Mary Catherine enjoyed all this, and she was not

slow to tell Uncle McGuffey just what stories and what poems

she liked best, for he had told her he was trying to find out what

children could read and what they enjoyed most. What Mary

Catherine could not know, however, and what Uncle McGuffey

himself did not even suspect at this time, was that this experimental

work of thus testing out his material was to result in the finest set

of readers that had ever been compiled, and was destined to make

Uncle McGuffey a very famous man.

At Cincinnati, she was welcomed by Grandmother Schooley

who, as an infant in arms, had been brought down the river on a

flat-boat to become a part of that very earliest group of pioneers

who, under the protection of the soldiers of Fort Washington,

formed the first settlement there in 1790. Grandmother Schooley

had grown up with the town; had witnessed its progress from a

rude village to a thriving port on the Ohio where steamboats now

were plying up and down the river daily. She had watched the

building of the rows of comfortable, substantial brick homes that

lined the streets; she had noted the growth of the markets where

products from many lands could be purchased, and had watched

the streets leading down to the waterfront becoming more and

more clogged with vehicles of all kinds, from light two-wheeled

sulkies to heavy Conestogas lumbering down to the wharf with

their burdens, drovers with their throngs of live-stock raising the

dust, and now and then a stagecoach or private carriage coming

through to unload passengers at the landing.

Yes, Grandmother Schooley was a true pioneer, but things

were different now. How serene and pleasant school life was!

What swift and happy days were passing! Harriet Beecher was

beautiful, kind and winsome, for with all her seriousness there

was always a merry twinkle in her eyes that won the hearts of

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146  OHIO ARCHAEOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL QUARTERLY

 

her pupils. New acquaintances were made, new friendships

formed, and with so many relatives living near with whom she

was often permitted to spend weekends there was small chance

for Mary Catherine to suffer from homesickness or ennui.

Schooldays ended, she returned to Springfield where she

brought back added culture and, with skilful touch and practiced

hand, the refinement of musical art. With what admiration,

mingled with no little curiosity, the pioneer folk of the settlement

viewed the lovely instrument she played! People came for miles

around to see its beautiful polished exterior and to listen to the

sweet strains of harmony issuing from its well-tuned strings.

What were the melodies they heard? We can only guess.

Doubtless there was "Bonnie George Campbell," "Nut-brown

Mayde" or other ballads of ancient date, Ben Jonson's "Drink to

me only with thine eyes," or the lovely lyrics of Cavalier poets.

Robert Burns must have been a favorite, with his "Flow Gently,

Sweet Afton," or "Auld Lang Syne." Nor were these all. Church

hymns, particularly those of the Presbyterian faith, formed no

small part of her program, while the sonatas of Beethoven and

the songs of Franz Schubert, whom Liszt characterized as "the

most poetical musician that ever was," were to be found in her

repertoire.

But her seventeenth birthday was now approaching and ac-

cording to pioneer custom, Mary Catherine was of an age to be

married. Handsome young Dr. John Stone of Marietta had wooed

and won her hand. A superb wedding gown fashioned from heavy

white brocaded satin imported from  Paris and trimmed with

exquisite handmade lace, also from France, was now in readiness

for the first formal wedding in Springfield. What a wedding it

was! All the elite of the country around were bidden. Only

Grandfather Spining, who had passed away three months before

the gala day, was not able to attend, but even he must have been

at his granddaughter's wedding in spirit. Dr. and Mrs. Haines and

the Stewarts of Dayton were there. The McGuffeys of Oxford,

the Monforts, the Mulfords, the Coes, the McAlpines and the

Williamsons of Cincinnati--all were invited and came by stage-

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ECHOES OUT OF THE PAST                147

 

coach, on horseback or in private carriage to attend this social

affair, so elegant and so rare in the rugged community. You may

be sure the little piano played a conspicuous part on this occasion.

But underneath the glittering surface, so fair and full of sun-

shine, were heard the mutterings of a sullen storm, far off and

indistinct. The panic of 1837, followed by the noisy campaign of

1840, and the untimely death of President Harrison, were only

milestones in the progress of time, in which Mary Catherine and

her family were playing their part. Dr. Stone fell ill and died, and

his widow returned to her father's home, where once more she

thrummed the keyboard of her piano, a little less bright, a little

less new. About this time Stephen Foster began pouring forth his

wealth of songs, and Mary Catherine loved them all, from rollick-

ing "O Susannah!" through a long list, including "Old Folks at

Home," "Swanee River," "Old Black Joe," "Nelly Was a Lady,"

"My Old Kentucky Home" and "Come Where My Love Lies

Dreaming."

As the causes that climaxed in the Civil War drew on apace,

Mary Catherine's heart grew more and more anxious and more

and more depressed and the melodies from the strings of her

beautiful instrument reflected those feelings. She had read with

absorption the story of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," written by her

beloved teacher, Harriet Beecher, now Mrs. Stowe. To her it was

all so real. She had heard Mrs. Stowe relate the story of her

visit in the village on the hill above Maysville where she had

witnessed the sale of slaves from the courthouse steps across the

river in Kentucky. She knew much about the underground rail-

road, and she had seen the Ohio River when it was frozen over.

Her sympathy for the oppressed slave found expression in

the touching lines of "My Darling Nellie Gray," written and com-

posed by Ben Hanby, a college student living in a county not

far away. Other songs and hymns by Hanby became favorites of

hers, as were "Oh, Don't You Remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?"

"Silver Threads Among the Gold," and other sentimental songs of

the day, enlivened now and then by the works of Dan Emmett,

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another Ohio composer, who had set a whole nation swinging to

his tune of "Dixie."

The war was on and Mary Catherine found her days filled

to the uttermost. Her subsequent marriage to General Melancthon

S. Wade, who for courage and sagacity had recently been com-

missioned by President Lincoln, served only to increase her inter-

est in public as well as private welfare.

She lived to see the liberation of slaves, the saving of the

Union, the tragic death of President Lincoln and the slow settling

of peace upon the land. Then followed the serenity of age and the

comforting hymns of the church quieted her heart as she sat

before the yellowing keys.

Mary Catherine and those she loved best have all been laid

low, and relentless time moves on.

How fitting it is that the instrument she loved so well, the

instrument that had played so great a part in the stirring years of

her life should now have an honorable resting place in Clark

County Historical Society Museum, where to all who pause and

lend a listening ear, echoes of the past may still be heard!

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