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MY DAY
REMINISCENCES OF A LONG LIFE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO
ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR.
MY DAY
REMINISCENCES OF A LONG
LIFE
BY
MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR
AUTHOR OF "REMINISCENCES OF PEACE AND WAR,"
"THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON AND HER
TIMES," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1909
All rights reserved
LIBRARY
COPYRIGHT, 1909,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1909.
J. 8. Gushing Co. Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
tbe /Remote of
/IDS Son
TTbeofcorfcfc Blanfc
/ stood at dawn by a limitless sea
And watched the rose creep over the gray ;
Till the heavens were a glowing canopy !
This was my day !
The pale stars stole away, one by one
Like sensitive souls from the presence of Pride :
The moon bung low, looking back, as the sun
Rose over the tide.
And he, like a King, came up from the Sea !
He opened my rose unfettered my song
And quickened a heart to be true to me
All the day long.
The soul that was born of a song and flower
Of tender dawn-flush, and shadowy gray t
Was strengthened by Love for a bitter hour
That chilled my day.
I had dwelt in the garden of the Lord!
I had gathered the sweets of a summer day :
I was called to stand where a flaming sword
Turned every way.
It spared not the weak nor the strong nor the dear ;
And following fast ', like a phantom band,
Famine and Fever and shuddering Fear
Swept o> er the land.
They whispered that Hope, the angel of light.
Would spread her white wings and speed her away ;
But she folded me close in my longest night
And darkest day.
As of old, when the f re and tempest bad passed.
And an earthquake bad riven the rocks, the Word
In a still small voice rose over the blast
The Voice of the Lord.
And the Voice said: "Take up your lives again !
Quit yourselves manfully ! Stand in your lot!
Let the Famine, the Fever, the Peril, the Pain,
Be all forgot !
<( Weep no more for the lovely, the brave,
The young head pillowed on a blood-stained sod ;
The daisy that grows on the soldier's grave
Looks up to God!
t( The soul of the patriot-soldier stands
With a mighty host in eternal calm.
And He who pressed the sword to his hands
Has given the Palm"
And now I stand with my face to the west,
Shading mine eyes, for my glorious sun
Is splendid again as he sinks to his rest
His day is done.
I have lost my rose, forgotten my song,
But the true heart that loved me is mine alway /
The stars are alight the way not long
/ had my day !
November 8, 1908.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Mrs. Roger A. Pryor. From a Photograph, 1900 . Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
Residence of Dr. S. P. Hargrave ..... 43
Mrs. Fanny Bland Randolph . . . . .71
University of Virginia . . . . . . 75
Stephen A. Douglas . . . . . . .85
William Walker . . .- 121
Washington in 1845 138
General Robert E. Lee in 1861 . . . . . 208
Theodorick Bland Pryor . . . . . .344
William Rice Pryor 348
Charlotte Cushman . . . . . . 359
Helena Modjeska . . . . . . .362
General Hancock 371
General Sheridan . . . . . . 377
Mrs. Vincenzo Botta . . . . . . .403
Judge Roger A. Pryor in 1900 ..... 447
ix
MY DAY
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
I AM constrained to encourage a possible reader
by assuring him that I have no intention what
ever of writing strictly an autobiography.
Nothing in myself nor in my life would warrant me
in so doing.
I might, perhaps, except the story of the Civil
War, and my part in the trials and sorrows of my
fellow-women, but this story I have fully and truly
told in my " Reminiscences of Peace and War."
My countrymen were so kind to these first stories
that I feel I may claim some credentials as a " bab
bler of Reminiscences." Besides, I have lived in
the last two-thirds of the splendid nineteenth cen
tury, and have known some of the men and women
who made that century notable. And I would fain
believe with Mr. Trollope that " the small records
of an unimportant individual life, the memories which
happen to linger in the brain of the old like bits of
drift-wood floating round and round in the eddies
of a back-water, can more vividly than anything
else bring before the young of the present genera-
2 My Day
tion those ways of acting and thinking and talking
in the everyday affairs of life which indicate the
differences between themselves and their grand
fathers."
But I shall have more than this " floating drift
wood" to reward the reader who will follow me to
the end of my story!
Writers of Reminiscences are interested per
haps more interested than their readers in recall
ing their earliest sensations, and through them
determining at what age they had " found them
selves " ; i.e. become conscious of their own person
ality and relation to the world they had entered.
Long before this time the child has seen and
learned more perhaps than he ever learned after
wards in the same length of time. He has
acquired knowledge of a language sufficient for
his needs. His miniature world has been, in
many respects, a foreshadowing of the world he
will know in his maturity. He has learned that he
is a citizen of a country with laws, some of which
it will be prudent to obey, such as the law against
taking unpermitted liberties with the cat, or touching
the flame of the candle ; while other laws may be
evaded by cleverness and discreet behavior. He
finds around him many things ; pictures on walls,
for instance, that may be admired but never touched,
other lovely things that may be handled and even
kissed, but must be returned to mantels and tables,
and yet others, not near as delightful as these,
"poor things but his own," to be caressed or beaten,
or even broken at his pleasure. He has learned to
Introductory 3
indulge his natural taste for the drama. His nurse
covers her head with a paper and becomes the dread
ful, groaning villain behind it, while the baby girds
himself for attack, tears the disguise from the vil
lain, and shouts his victory. As he learns the
names and peculiarities of animals, the scope of the
drama widens. He is a spirited horse, snorting and
charging along, or if his picture-books have been
favorable a roaring lion from whom the nurse
flees in terror. Of the domestic play there is infi
nite variety nursing in sickness, the doctor, baby-
tending, cooking, and once, alas ! I heard a baby
girl of eighteen months enact a fearful quarrel be
tween man and wife, ending firmly " I leave you !
I never come back ! "
These natural tendencies of children would seem
to prove that the soul or mind of man can be
" fetched up from the cradle " a phrase for which
I am indebted to one of my contemporaries, Mr.
Leigh Hunt, who in turn quoted it as a popular
phrase in his late (and my early) day. But with
the single exception of the spoken language all
these childish plays have been successfully taught
to our humble brothers ; to our poor relation the
monkey, the dog, elephant, seal, canary bird
even to fleas. All these are capable of enacting a
short drama. The elephant, longing for his bottle,
never rings his bell too soon. The dog remembers
his cue, watches for it, and never anticipates it.
The seal, more wonderful than all, born as he has
been without arms or legs, mounts a horse for a
ride, and waits for his umbrella to be poised on his
4 My Day
stubby nose. Even the creature whose name is a
synonym for vulgar stupidity has been taught to
indicate with porcine finger the letters which spell
that name.
With these and other animals we hold in common
our faculty of imitation, our memory, affection, an
tipathy, revenge, gratitude, passionate adoration of
one special friend, and even the perception of music
the infant will weep and the poodle howl in re
sponse to the same strain in a minor key and yet,
notwithstanding this common lot, this common in
heritance, there is born for us and not for them a
moment when some strange unseen power breathes
into us something akin to consciousness of a living
soul.
Having no past as a standard for the reasonable
and natural, nothing surprises children. They are
simply witnesses of a panorama in the moving scenes
of which they have no part. When I was three
years old, I visited my grandfather in Charlotte
County. The Staunton River wound around his
plantation and I was often taken out rowing with
my aunts. One day the canoe tipped and my pretty
Aunt Elizabeth fell overboard. Without the slight
est emotion I saw her fall, and saw her recovered.
For aught I knew to the contrary it was usual and
altogether proper for young ladies to fall in rivers
and be fished out by their long hair. But another
event, quite ordinary, overwhelmed me with the
most passionate distress. Having, a short time be
fore, advanced a tentative finger for an experimental
taste of an apple roasting for me at my grandfathers
Introductory 5
fire, I was prepared to be shocked at seeing a colony
of ants rush madly about upon wood a servant was
laying over the coals. My cries of distress arrested
my grandfather as he passed through the room. He
quickly ordered the sticks to be taken off, and call
ing me to a seat in front of him, said gravely : " We
will try these creatures and see if they deserve pun
ishment. Evidently they have invaded our country.
The question is, did they come of their own accord,
or were they while enjoying their rights of life and
liberty, captured by us and brought hither against
their will?' 1 My testimony was gravely taken. I
was quite positive I had seen the sticks, swarming
with ants, laid upon the fire. " Uncle Peter," who
had brought in the wood, was summoned and sharply
cross-questioned. Nothing could shake him. To
the best of his knowledge and belief, " them ants
nuvver come 'thouten they was 'bleeged to," and
so, as they were by this time wildly scampering over
the floor, they were gently admonished by a per
suasive broom to leave the premises. Uncle Peter
was positive they would find their way home with
out difficulty, and I was comforted.
I remember this little incident perfectly ; I can
see my dear grandfather, his white hair tied with a
black ribbon en queue, advancing his stick like a staff
of office. I claim that then and there three years
old I found myself, "fetched up my soul" from
somewhere, almost " from the cradle," inasmuch as
I had pitied the unfortunate, unselfishly espoused
his cause, and won for him consideration and justice.
Writers of fiction are supposed to present, as in
6 My Day
a mirror, the truth as it is found in nature. They
are fond of hinting that at some moment in the early
life of every individual something occurs which fore
shadows his fate, something which if interpreted -
like the dreams of the ancient Hebrews would tell
us without the aid of gypsy, medium, or clairvoyant
the things we so ardently desire to know. In Dan
iel Deronda, Gwendolyn, in her moment of triumph,
touches a spring in a panel, which, sliding back, re
veals a picture, the upturned face of a drowning
man. In Lewis Rand, Jacqueline, the bride of half
an hour, hears the story of a duel and the pistol-
shot echoes ever after through her brain, filling it
with insistent foreboding.
We might recall illustrations of similar foreshad
owing in real life. For instance, Jean Carlyle, six
years old, beautiful and vivid as a tropical bird,
stands before an audience to sing her little song ;
and waits in vain for her accompanist. Finally
she throws her apron over her head and runs away
in confusion. She was prepared, she knew her part ;
but the support was lacking, the accompaniment
failed her. It was not given to him who told the
story to perceive the prophecy !
Were I fanciful enough to fix upon one moment
as prophetic of my life as a key-note to the con
trolling principle of that life I might recall the in
cident in my grandfather's room, when I ceased to be
merely an inert absorber of light and warmth and
comfort, and became aware of the pain in the world
pain which I passionately longed to alleviate.
CHAPTER II
I HAD a childless aunt, who annually came up
from her home in Hanover to spend part of the
summer with my parents and my grandfather.
She begged me of my mother for a visit, meant to be
a brief one, and as she was greatly loved and respected
by her people, I was permitted to return with her.
There were no railroads in Virginia at that time.
All journeys were made in private conveyances. The
great coach-and-four had disappeared after the Revo
lution. The carriage and pair, with the goatskin
hair trunk strapped on behind, or in case the
journey were long a light wagon for baggage, were
now enough for the migratory Virginian.
He lived at home except for the three summer
months, when it was his invariable rule to visit Sara
toga, or the White Sulphur, Warm, and Sweet
Springs, of Virginia, making a journey to the latter,
in something less than a week, now accomplished
from New York in eight or nine hours.
The carriage on high springs creaked and rocked
like a ship at sea. Fortunately, it was well cushioned
and padded within and furnished at the four cor
ners with broad double straps through which the arms
of the passenger could be thrust to steady himself
withal. He needed them in the pitching and jolting
over therocks and ruts of dreadful roads. Inside each
door were ample pockets for sundry comforts bis-
7
8 My Day
cuits, sandwiches, apples, restorative medicines and
cordials, books and papers. A flight of three or four
carpeted steps was folded inside the door. Twenty-
five miles were considered "a day's journey," quite
enough for any pair of horses. At noon the latter
were rested under the shade of trees near some spring
or clear brook, the carriage cushions were laid out, and
the luncheon ! Well, I cannot presume to be greater
than the greatest of all our American artists, he
who could mould a hero in bronze and make him
live again ; and hold us, silent and awed, in the pres
ence of the mysterious and unspeakable grief of a
woman in marble ! Has he not confessed that al
though he remembers an early perception of beauty
in sky and sea, and field and wood the memory
that has followed him vividly through life is of odors
from a baker's oven, and from apples stewing in a
German neighbor's kitchen? Hot gingerbread and
spiced, sugared apples ! I should say so, indeed !
In just such a carriage as I have described, I set
forth with my strange aunt and uncle a little
three-and-a-half-year-old ! At night we slept in some
country tavern, surrounded by whispering aspen
trees. A sign in front, swung like a gibbet, promised
" Refreshment for man and beast." Invariably the
landlord, grizzled, portly, and solemn, was lying at
length on a bench in his porch or lounging in a " split-
bottom chair" with his feet on the railing. He had
seen our coming from afar. He was eager for cus
tom, but he had dignity to maintain. Lifting him
self slowly from his bench or chair, he would lei
surely come forward, and hesitatingly " reckon"
My Day 9
he could accommodate us. I was mortally afraid of
him ! Sinking into one of his deep feather beds, I
trembled for my life and wept for my mother.
Finally one night, wearied out with the long
journey, we turned into an avenue of cedars and
neared our home. My aunt and uncle, on the
cushions of the back seat, little dreamed of the dire
resolve of the small rebel in front. Like the ants,
I had been brought, against my will, to a strange
country. I silently determined I would not be a
good little girl. I would be as naughty as I could,
give all the trouble I could, and force them to send
me home again. But with the morning sun came
perfect contentment, which soon blossomed into
perfect happiness. From my bed I ran out in my
bare feet to a lovely veranda shaded by roses. On
one of the latticed bars a little wren bobbed his head
in greeting, and poured out his silver thread of a
song. Gabriella, the great tortoise-shell cat, with
high uplifted tail, wooed and won me ; and when
Milly, black and smiling, captured me, it was to intro
duce me to an adorable doll and a little rocking-chair.
From that hour until I married I was the
happy queen of the household, the one whose
highest good was wisely considered and for whose
happiness all the rest lived.
The bond between my aunt and her small niece
could never be sundered, and as she was greatly
loved and trusted, and as many children blessed my
own dear mother, I was practically adopted as the
only child of my aunt and uncle, Dr. and Mrs.
Samuel Pleasants Hargrave.
CHAPTER III
THE general impression I retain of the world of
my childhood is of gardens gardens every
where ; abloom with roses, lilies, violets, jon
quils, flowering almond-trees which never fruited,
double-flowering peach trees which also bore no
fruit, but were, with the almond trees, cherished for
the beauty of their blossoms. And conservatories!
These began deep in the earth and were built two
stories high at the back of the house. They were
entered by steps going down and only thus were
they entered. Windows opened into them from
the parlor (always " parlor," not drawing-room)
or from my lady's chamber. On the floor were
great tubs of orange and lemon trees and the
gorgeous flowering pomegranate. Along the walls
were shelves reached by short ladders, and on these
shelves were ranged cacti, gardenias (Cape Jessamine,
or jasmine, as we knew this queen of flowers),
abutilon, golden globes of lantana, and the much-
prized snowy Camellia Japonica, sure to sent packed
in cotton as gifts to adorn the dusky tresses of
some Virginia beauty, or clasp the folds of her
diaphanous kerchief. These camellias, long before
they were immortalized by the younger Dumas, were
reckoned the most poetic and elegant of all flowers
so pure and sensitive, resenting the profanation
of the slightest touch. No cavalier of that day
10
My Day n
would present to his ladye faire the simple flowers
we love to-day. These would come fast enough
with the melting of the snows early in February.
I have never forgotten the ecstasy of one of these
early February mornings. Mittened and hooded I
ran down the garden walk from which the snow had
been swept and piled high on either side. Delicious
little rivers were running down and I launched a
mighty fleet of leaves and sticks. Suddenly I beheld
a miracle. The snow was lying thickly all around,
but the sun had melted it from a south bank, and
white violets hundreds of them had popped
out. I spread my apron on the clean snow and
filled it with the cool, crisp blossoms. Running in
exultant I poured my treasure into my dear aunt's
lap as she sat on a low chair which brought my head
just on a level with her bosom. Ah ! Like St.
Gaudens, I remember the gingerbread and apples!
but I remember the violets also!
I can see myself in the early hot summer, sent
forth to breathe the cool air of the morning. What
a paradise of sweets met my senses ! The squares,
crescents, and circles edged with box, over which an
enchanted glistening veil had been thrown during
the night; the tall lilacs, snowballs, myrtles, and
syringas, guarding like sentinels the entrance to every
avenue ; the glowing beds of tulips, pinks, purple
iris, " bleeding hearts," flowering almond with rosy
spikes, lily-of-the-valley ! I scanned them all with
curious eyes. Did I not know that the fairies, rid
ing on butterflies, had visited each one and painted
it during the night ? Did I not know that these
12 My Day
same fairies had hung their cups on the grass, and
danced so long that the cups grew fast to the blades
of grass and became lilies-of-the-valley ? I knew all
this although my dear aunt never approved of
fairy tales and gave me no fairy-tale books. Cousin
Charles believed them ; moreover, I had a charming
picture of a fairy, riding on a butterfly. Of course
they were true.
But I always hurried along, with small delay,
among the flower beds. I knew where the passion-
vine had dropped golden globes of fruit during the
night and I knew well where the cool figs, rimy
with the early dew, were bursting with scarlet sweet
ness. Tell me not of your acrid grape-fruit, or far
fetched orange, wherewithal to break the morning
fast ! I know of something better. Alas ! neither
you nor I can ever again except in fancy cool
our lips with the dew-washed fruits of an " old Vir
ginia " garden.
It seems to me that the life we led at Cedar Grove
and Shrubbery Hill was busy beyond all parallel.
Everything the family and the plantation needed
was manufactured at home, except the fine fabrics,
the perfumes, wines, etc., which were brought from
Richmond, Baltimore, or Philadelphia. Everything,
from the goose-quill pen to carpets, bedspreads,
coarse cotton cloth, and linsey-woolsey for servants*
clothing, was made at home. Even corset-laces
were braided of cotton threads, the corset itself of
home manufacture.
Miss Betsey, the housekeeper, was the busiest of
women. Besides her everlasting pickling, preserving,
My Day 13
and cake-baking, she was engaged, with my aunt, in
mysterious incantations over cordials, tonics, camo
mile, wild cherry, bitter bark, and " vinegar of the
four thieves," to be used in sickness.
The recipe for the latter well known in Virginia
households a century ago was probably brought
by Thomas Jefferson from France in 1794. He
was a painstaking collector of everything of practical
value. To this day there exists in the French drug
gists' code a recipe known as the " Vinaigre des
Quatre Voleurs"; and it is that given by con
demned malefactors who, according to official records
still existing in France, entered deserted houses in
the city of Marseilles during a yellow fever epi
demic in the seventeenth century and carried off
immense quantities of plunder. They seemed to
possess some method of preserving themselves from
the scourge. Being finally arrested and condemned
to be burned to death, an offer was made to change
the method of inflicting their punishment if they
would reveal their secret. The condemned men
then confessed that they always wore over their faces
handkerchiefs that had been saturated in strong vine
gar and impregnated with certain ingredients, the
principal one being bruised garlic.
The recipe, still preserved in the Randolph family
of Virginia, is an odd one with a homely flavor
hardly to be expected of a French formula. It re
quires simply " lavender, rosemary, sage, wormwood,
rue and mint, of each a large handful; put them in
a pot of earthenware, cover the pot closely, and put
a board on the top ; keep it in the hottest sun two
14 My Day
weeks, then strain and bottle it, putting in each a
clove of garlic. When it has settled in the bottle
and becomes clear, pour it off gently ; do this until
you get it all free from sediment. The proper time
to make it is when herbs are in full vigor, in
June."
Only a housewife, who lived in an age of abun
dant leisure, could afford to interest herself for two
weeks in the preparation of a bottle of the " Vinegar
of the Four Thieves." The housekeeper of to-day
can steep her herbs, then strain them through one
of the fine sieves in her pantry, the whole operation
costing little labor and time, with perhaps as good
results. If she is inclined to make the experiment,
she will achieve a decoction which has the merit at
least of romance, the secret of its combination hav
ing been purchased by sparing the lives of four dis
tinguished Frenchmen, with the present practical
value of providing a refreshing prophylactic for the
sick room, provided the lavender, rosemary, sage,
wormwood, rue, and mint completely stifle the clove
of garlic !
Pepper and spices were pounded in marble mor
tars. Sugar was purchased in the bulk in large
cones wrapped in thick blue paper. This was
broken into great slices, and then subdivided into
cubes by means of a knife and hammer.
Sometimes a late winter storm would overtake
the new-born lambs, and they would be found for
saken by the flock. The little shivering creatures
would be brought to a shelter, and fed with warm
milk from the long bottles, in which even now
My Day 15
we get Farina Cologne. Soft linen was wrapped
around the slender neck, and my dear aunt fed
the nurslings with her own white hands. How the
lambkins could wag their tiny tails ! and how
they grew and prospered !
All the fine muslins of the family, my aunt's
great collars, and the ruffles worn by my uncle,
my Cousin Charles, and myself, were carefully laun
dered under my aunt's supervision. Dipped in
pearly starch, they were " clapped dry " in our
own hands, ironed with small irons, and beautifully
crimped on a board with a penknife. Fine linen
was a kind of hall-mark by which a gentleman was
" known in the gates when he " sat " among the
elders of the land."
I was intensely interested in all this busy life
and always eager to be a part of it.
There was nothing I had not attempted before I
rounded my first decade, churning, printing the
butter with wooden moulds, or shaping it into a
bristling pineapple ; spinning on tiptoe at the great
wheel we had no flax-wheels and even once
scrambling up to the high seat of the weaver and
sending the shuttle into hopeless tangles. " Ladies
don't nuvver do dem things " sternly rebuked
Milly. " Lemme ketch you ergin at dat busi
ness, an' 'twont be wuf while for Marse Chawles
to baig for you."
The inconsistencies as to proprieties puzzled me
then and have puzzled me ever since.
"Why mustn't I spin and churn, Milly ? " I in
sisted.
1 6 My Day
" Ain't I done tole you ? Ladies don't nuvver
do dem things."
" Then why can I help with the laces and mus
lins ?"
" Cause ladies does do dem things."
And so I became an expert blanc his sense de Jin,
as it was the one household industry allowed my
caste.
There was no railroad to bring us luxuries from
the nearest town Richmond twenty-five miles
distant, and we depended upon the little covered
cart of Aunt Mary Miller. Aunt Mary and her
husband. Uncle Jacob, were old family servants
who had been given their freedom. They lived
at the foot of a hill near our house, and down the
path, slippery with fallen pine needles, I was often
sent with Milly to summon Uncle Jacob, who was
the coachman. He was very old, and gray, and
always unwilling to " hitch up de new kerridge in
dis bad weather." He would stand on the lawn
and scan the horizon in every direction and a
dim, distant haze was enough to daunt him. Aunt
Mary was allowed to collect eggs, poultry, and pea
cock's feathers from the neighbors, take them down
to Richmond to her waiting customers, and re
turn with sundry delightful things, Peter Parley's
books, a wax doll, oranges and candy for me, and
wonderful stories of the splendors she had seen.
She had other stories than these. One night " a
hant " had walked around her cart and " skeered "
her old horse " pretty nigh outen his senses " ; as
to herself, " Humph, I'se used to hants."
My Day 17
" Where, Aunt Mary, tell me," I begged. With
a furtive glance lest my elders would hear, she an
swered :
" I ain't savin' nothin'. Don't you go an' say I
tole you anythin'. Jes you run down to the back
of the gyardin as fur as the weepin' wilier an' you'll
know."
Of course I knew already what I should find be
neath the willow. I had often stood at the foot of
the two long white slabs and read : " Sacred to the
Memory of Charles Crenshaw " and "Sacred to the
Memory of Susannah Crenshaw." I knew their
story. This had been their home. The brother
had died early, and for love of him the sister had
broken her heart. My sweet great-aunt Susannah !
Had she not left a lovely Chinese basket which I
was to inherit full of curious and precious things;
a carved ivory fan, necklace, pearls, and amethysts,
and a treasure of musk-scented yellow lace ? Aunt
Mary shook her head when I announced scornfully
that I wasn't afraid of my Aunt Susannah.
" I ain't talkin' ! Miss Susannah used to war
blue satin high-heeled slippers. You jes listen !
Some o' dese dark nights you'll hear sump'n goin'
< click, click. ' :
" I know, Aunt Mary. That's the death-head
moth. Milly says it won't hurt anybody, without
you meddle with it."
"Humph! Milly I I seed hants befo' her
mammy was bawn ! / tells you it's Miss Susannah
comin' on her high heels to see if you meddlin'
with her things. I knowed Miss Susannah ! she
1 8 My Day
was monsous particlar. She ain't nuvver goin' to
let you war her things."
I was a wretched child for a long time after this.
Whenever I retired into the inner chambers of my
imagination as was my wont when grown-up
people talked politics, or religion, or slavery I
found my pretty fairies all fled, and in their places
hollow-eyed goblins and ghosts. If my gentle
Aunt Susannah was permitted to come back to her
home, how about all the others who had lived there ?
My aunt coming for her final good-night kiss
would uncover a hot face, to be instantly re
covered upon her departure. Par parenthese, I
never did wear Aunt Susannah's jewels. All dis
appeared mysteriously except the chain of lovely
beads. These I wore. One night I slept in them
and the next morning they were gone. Whither ?
Ah, you must call up some one of those long-time
sleepers. According to latter-day lights, they may
" come when you do call." They may know. I
never did know.
CHAPTER IV
NO house in Virginia was more noted for hospi
tality than my uncle's. I remember an ever
coming and going procession of Taylors,
Pendletons, Flemings, Fontaines, Pleasants, etc.
These made small impression upon me. Men might
come and men might go, but my lessons went on for
ever; writing, geography, and much reading. I had
Mrs. Sherwood's books. I wonder if any present-
day child reads " Little Henry and his Bearer," or
Miss Edgeworth's " Rosamond," or cc Peter Parley's
Four Quarters of the Globe " ! Hannah More was
the great influence with my aunt and her friends.
" Thee will be a second Hannah More " was the
highest praise the literary family at Shrubbery Hill
could possibly give me. Mr. Augustine Birrell
could never have written his sarcastic review of her
in my day. It would not have been tolerated.
From Miss Edgeworth, Cowper, Burns, St. Pierre,
my aunt read aloud to me. On every centre table,
along with the astral lamp, lay a sumptuous volume
in cream and gold. This was the elegant annual
" Friendship's Offering," containing the much-ad
mired poems of one Alfred Tennyson, collaborating
with his brother Charles. Miss Martineau was much
discussed and was distinctly unpopular. Stories were
told of her peculiarities, her ignorance of the etiquette
of polite society at the North. When she was in Wash-
19
2o My Day
ington in 1835, sne was invited by Mrs. Samuel
Harrison Smith to an informal dinner at five o'clock.
Mrs. Smith had requested three friends to meet her,
and had arranged for "a small, genteel dinner."
She had descended to the parlor at an early hour
to arrange some flowers, when her daughter in
formed her that Miss Martineau and her compan
ion, Miss Jeffrey, had arrived, and were upstairs in
her bedroom, having requested to be shown to a
chamber. Mrs. Smith wrote to Mrs. Kirkpatrick :
" I hastened upstairs and found them combing their
hair ! They had taken off their bonnets and large
capes. ' You see/ said Miss Martineau, c we have
complied with your request and come sociably to
spend the day with you. We have been walking
all the morning; our lodgings were too distant to re
turn, so we have done as those who have no car
riages do in England when they go to pass a social
day/ I offered her combs, brushes, etc., but show
ing me the enormous pockets in her French dress
she said that they were provided with all that was
necessary, and pulled out nice little silk shoes, silk
stockings, a scarf for her neck, little lace mits, a gold
chain, and some other jewellery, and soon, without
changing her dress, was prettily equipped for dinner
or evening company. It was a rich treat to hear
her talk when the candles were lit and the curtains
drawn. Her words flow in a continuous stream,
her voice is pleasing, her manners quiet and lady
like/' She was thought to be unfriendly to the
South which I have the best of reasons for be
lieving was true.
My Day 21
All this I heard with unheeding ears, but a deli
cious, memorable hour awaited me. Some guest
had brought her maid, and from her I heard a
wonderful fairy-godmother story, of one Cinder
ella, whose light footstep would not break a glass
slipper.
Uncle Remus had not yet dawned upon a waiting
world of children, but Cowper had written charm
ingly about hares and how to domesticate them. I
had a flourishing colony of " little Rabs." Some of
my humble friends were domiciled in the small play
house built for me in the garden. Into this sacred
refuge, ascended by a flight of tiny steps, even Ga-
briella was forbidden to enter. I could just manage
to stand under the low ceiling. There I entertained
a strange company. I had no toys of any descrip
tion, and only one doll, which was much too fine for
every day. Flowers and forked sticks served for
the dramatis person* of my plays.
I had never heard of y^sop or of Aristophanes,
but it was early given to me to discern the excellent
points of frogs. I caught a number of them on the
sandy margin of a little brook which ran at the
bottom of the garden, and Milly helped me to dress
them in bits of muslin and lace. Their ungraceful
figures forbade their masquerading as ladies, a frog
has " no more waist than the continent of Africa, "
but with caps and long skirts they made admirable
infants, creeping in the most orthodox fashion. Of
course their prominent eyes and wide mouths left
something to be desired ; but these were very dear
children, over whose mysterious disappearance their
22 My Day
adoptive mother grieved exceedingly. Could it be
that snakes but no ! The suggestion is too awful !
My aunt had a warm affection for a kinswoman
who lived seven or eight miles from us. This lady's
gentleness and sweetness made her a welcome visitor,
and I never tired of hearing her talk, albeit her
manner was tinged with sadness. She grieved over
the disappearance, years before, of a dear young
brother. He had simply dropped out of sight her
" poor Brother Ben ! " This was a great mystery
which she often discussed with my aunt, and which
delightfully stirred my imagination.
One night late in summer a cold storm of rain
and wind howled without and beat against the window-
panes. A fire was kindled on the hearth, and around
it the family gathered for a cosey evening. Suddenly
some one saw a face pressed against the window, and
hastened to open the door to the benighted visitor.
There, dripping upon the threshold, stood awretched-
looking man. It was Brother Ben !
He carried a bundle of blankets on his back which
he proceeded to unwind, revealing at last two tiny
Indian girls ! The frightened little creatures clung
to him closely, and only after being brought to the
fire and fed on warm milk were sufficiently reassured
to permit him to explain himself. With one on
each knee, " Brother Ben" told his story. He had
run away to escape the restraints of home and had
found his way to the wild Western country beyond
the Ohio. Friendly Indians had sheltered and suc
cored him, and he had finally married a young
daughter of their chief. When his children were
My Day 23
born, he " came to himself." He could not endure
the prospect of rearing them among savages, and so
had stolen them from their mother's wigwam during
her temporary absence, and was well on his way be
fore his theft was discovered. For days and nights
he was in the wilderness, fording rivers, climbing
mountains, hiding under the bushes at night. Fi
nally he overtook a party of homeward-bound hunts
men, and in their company succeeded in reaching his
sister's door.
I never knew what became of him, but the chil
dren were adopted by their aunt as her own. They
were queer little round creatures, knowing no word
of English, but affectionate and docile. I was much
with them, delighting to teach them. I cared no
more for Gabriella nor my rabbits and frogs. I
thought no more of fairies and midnight apparitions.
Here was food enough for imagination, different
from anything I had ever dreamed of, romance
brought to my very door.
Without doubt the Indian mother, far away
towards the setting sun, wept for her babes, but
nobody, excepting myself, seemed to think of her.
Could I write to her? Could I, some day, find a
huntsman going westward and send her a message?
She might even come to them ! Some dark night
I might see her dusky face pressed against the
window-pane, peering in.!
As time wore on, the children grew to be great
girls, and their Indian peculiarities of feature and
coloring became so pronounced that they were
constantly wounded by being mistaken for mulat-
24 My Day
toes. There was no school in Virginia where
they could be happy. No lady would willingly
allow her little girls to associate with them. Evi
dently there was no future for them in Virginia.
Finally their aunt found through our Quaker
friends an excellent school, I think in Ohio, and
thither the little wanderers were sent, were kindly
treated, were educated, and grew up to be good
women who married well.
My aunt made many long journeys across the
state to the White Sulphur Springs of which I remem
ber nothing but crowds and discomfort to Amherst,
where my father lived, to Charlotte to visit my
grandfather, and to Albemarle to visit friends
among the mountains. She joined house-parties
for a few weeks every summer ; and one of these
I, then a very little child, can perfectly recollect.
The country house, like all Virginia houses, was
built of elastic material capable of sheltering any
number of guests, many of whom remained all
summer. Indeed, this was expected when a visit
was promised. " My dear sir," said the master of
Westover to a departing guest who had sought
shelter from a rain-storm, " My dear sir, do stay and
pay us a visit."
The guest pleaded business that forbade his
compliance. " Well, well," said Major Drewry, " if
you can't pay us a visit, come for two or three
weeks at least."
"Week ends" were unknown in Virginia, and
equally out of the question an invitation limited by
the host to prescribed days and hours. Sometimes
My Day 25
a happy guest would ignore time altogether and stay
along from season to season. I cannot remember a
parallel case to that of Isaac Watts, who, invited by
Sir Thomas Abney to spend a night at Stoke New-
ington, accepted with great cheerfulness and staid
twenty years, but I do remember that an invitation
for one night brought to a member of our family a
pleasant couple who remained four years. Virginia
was excelled, it seems, by the mother country.
At this my first house-party there were many
young people among them the famous beauty,
Anne Carmichael, and the then famous poet and
novelist, Jane Lomax. These, with a number of
bright young men, made a gay party. Every moon
light night it was the custom to bring the horses to
the door-steps, and all would mount and go off for
a visit to some neighbor. I was told, however, that
the object of these nocturnal rides was to enable
Miss Lomax to write poetry on the moon, and I
was sorely perplexed as to the possibility, without
the longest kind of a pen, of accomplishing such a
feat. I spent hours reasoning out the problem, and
had finally almost brought myself to the point of
consulting the young lady herself, although I dis
tinctly thought there was something mysterious and
uncanny about her, when something occurred
which strained relations between her and myself.
An uninteresting bachelor from town had ap
peared on the scene, to the chagrin of the young
people, whose circle was complete without him.
He belonged to the class representing in that day
the present-day cc little brothers of the rich/' often
26 My Day
the most agreeable relations the rich can boast, but
in this case decidedly the reverse.
It was thought that the present intruder was
" looking for a wife," he had been known to
descend upon other house-parties without an in
vitation, and it was deliberately determined to
give him the most frigid of cold shoulders. Our
amiable hostess, however, emphatically put a stop
to this. I learned the state of things and resented
it. "Old True/' as he was irreverently nicknamed,
was a friend of mine. I resolved to devote myself
to him, and to espouse his cause against his enemies.
One day when the young ladies were together in
my aunt's room there was great merriment over
the situation in regard to " old True," and many
jests to his disadvantage related and laughed over.
To my great delight Miss Lomax presently an
nounced : " Now, girls, this is all nonsense ! Mr.
Trueheart is a favorite of mine. I shall certainly
accept him if he asks me."
I believed her literally. I saw daylight for my
injured friend, and immediately set forth to find
him. He was sitting alone under the trees, on the
lawn, and welcomed the little girl tripping over the
grass to keep him company. On his knee I eagerly
gave him my delightful news, and saw his face
illumined by it. I was perfectly happy and so 3
he assured me, was he !
That evening my aunt observed an unwonted ex
citement in my face and manner and after feeling
my pulse and hot cheeks decided I was better off
in bed, and sent me to my room, which happened
My Day 27
to be in a distant part of the house. To reach it I
had to go through a long, narrow, dark hall. I
always traversed this hall at night with bated breath.
Tiny doors were let into the wall near the floor,
opening into small apertures then known by the
obsolescent name of " cuddies." I was afraid to
pass them. So far from the family, nobody would
hear me if I screamed. Suppose something were to
jump out at me from those cuddies !
In the middle of this fearsome place I heard quick
steps behind. Before I could run or scream, strong
fingers gripped my shoulders and shook me, and
a fierce whisper hissed in my ear u You little
devil!"
It was the poetess the lady who wrote verses
on the moon ! " Old True " had suffered no grass
to grow under his feet !
He left early next morning and so did we my
aunt perceiving that the excitement of the gay house-
party was not good for me.
I learned there were other things besides hot roast
apples to be avoided. Fingers might be burned by
meddling with people's love affairs.
We were not the only guests who left the hos
pitable, gay, noisy, sleep-forbidding house. Our
host had an eccentric sister whom we all addressed
as " Cousin Betsey Michie," and who had left her
own home expressly to spend a few weeks here with
my aunt, to whom she was much attached. When
" Cousin Betsey " discovered our intended depar
ture, she ordered her maid " Liddy " to pack her
trunk, a little nail-studded box covered with goat-
28 My Day
skin, and insisted upon claiming us as her guests
for the rest of the season.
" Cousin Betsey " was to me a terrible old lady,
large, masculine, " hard-favored," and with a wart
on her chin. I wondered what I should do, were she
ever to kiss me, which she never did, and had
made up my mind to keep away from her as far as
possible. I owed her nothing, I reasoned, as she
was not really my cousin. She used strong language,
and was intolerant of all the singing, dancing, and
midnight rides of the young people. Her room was
immediately beneath mine. But the night before,
lying awake after my startling interview with the
poetess, I had heard the galloping horses of the
party returning from a midnight visit to " Edge-
worth," and the harsh voice of Cousin Betsey calling
to her sister: " Maria, Maria ! Don't you dare get
out of bed to give those scamps supper a passel
of ramfisticated villians, cavorting all over the coun
try like wild Indians/'
A peal of musical laughter, and " Oh, Cousin Bet
sey ! " was the answer of a merry horsewoman
below.
As we heard much about Johnsonian English
from Cousin Betsey, it was reasonable to suppose,
my aunt thought, that the startling word was classic.
One evening while we were her guests she sud
denly asked if I could write. I was about to give
her an indignant affirmative, when my aunt inter
rupted, " Not very well." She knew I should be
pressed into service as a secretary.
" She ought to learn," said Cousin Betsey. " My
My Day 29
own writing is more like Greek than English since
my eyes fail me. Maria Gordon has been copying
for me, but such fantastic flourishes ! It will be
Greek copied into Sanskrit if she does it. Well,
what can the child do ? Come here, miss. Are
your hands clean ? Ah ! Wash them again, honey ;
you must help Liddy make the Fullers pies for my
dinner-party to-morrow."
I was aghast ! But I found the " Fuller's pies "
were quite within my powers. " Pie " was not the
American institution, but the bird supposed to hide
itself in its nest. " Je wi en vay chercher un grand
feut-estre. II est au nid de la pie" says Rabelais. As
to my hands I feel persuaded that Cousin Betsey's
guests would have been reassured could they have
known to a certainty the old lady had not prepared
them with her own ! A glass bowl was placed before
me forthwith, a bowl of boiling water, some almonds
and raisins. " Liddy " blanched the almonds in
the hot water and instructed me to press each one
neatly into a large raisin, which, puffing out around
the nut, made it resemble an acorn, or, to the in
structed, a nest. These were the " pies " (birds in
a nest), and very attractive they were, piled in the
quaint old bowl with its fine diamond cutting. As
to the " Fuller " thus immortalized, I looked him
up, furtively, in the great Johnson's Dictionary
which lay in solitary grandeur upon a table in the
old lady's bedroom. Finding him unsatisfactory,
I concluded Dr. Johnson was not, after all, the great
man Cousin Betsey would have me believe. She
quoted him on all occasions as authority upon all
30 My Day
subjects. Boswell's Life of him, " Rasselas," " The
Journey to the Hebrides," and " The Rambler " held
places of honor upon the shelves of her small book
case. " Read these, child," she reiterated, " and you
need read nothing else. They will teach you to
speak and write English, you need no other lan
guage, and everything else you need know except
sewing and cooking." I soon became interested in
her own literary work. She was, at the moment,
engaged in writing a novel, " Some Fact and Some
Fiction," which was to appear serially in the South
ern Literary Messenger. I listened " with all my
ears " to her talk concerning it with my aunt. It
was to be a satire upon the affectations of the day
especially upon certain innovations in dress and
custom brought by her cousin " Judy," the accom
plished wife of our late Minister to France, Mr.
Rives, and transplanted upon the soil of Albemarle
County ; also the introduction of Italian words to
music in place of good old English. The heroine
was exquisitely simple, her muslin gown clasped with
a modest pearl brooch and a rose-geranium leaf.
Her language was fine Johnsonian English a sort
of vitalized " Lucilla," like the heroine in Miss Han
nah More's " Coelebs." As to the Italian words for
music, I blithely committed to memory this sarcastic
travesty, sung for me in Cousin Betsey's sonorous
contralto :
The Frog he did a' courting ride,
Rigdum bulamitty kimo
With sword and buckler by his side
Rigdum bulamitty kimo.
My Day 31
( Chorus}
Kimo naro, delta karo!
Kimo naro, kimo!
Strim stram promedidle larabob rig
Rigdum bulamitty kimo!
This was deemed a clever satire on the unintelli
gible Italian words of recent songs, and ran through
several verses, describing the Frog's courtship of
Mistress Mouse, who seems to have been a fair
lady with domestic habits who lived in a mill and
was occupied with her spinning.
I was full of anticipation on the great day of the
dinner-party. Mrs. Rives, Ella Page her niece,
and little Amelie Rives named for her godmother
the queen of France were the only invited guests.
The house was spick and span. I filled a bowl
with damask roses from the garden, sparing the
microphylla clusters that hung so prettily over the
front porch. The dinner was to be at two o'clock.
A few minutes before two a sable horseman gal
loped up to the door, dismounted, and, scraping his
foot backward as he bared a head covered with gray
wool, presented a note which my aunt read aloud :
u CASTLE HILL, Wednesday noon.
" DEAR COUSIN BETSEY : I know you will be amiable
enough to pardon me when I tell you how desolee I am to
find the hours have flown unheeded by, and we are too
late for your dinner ! The young ladies and I were read
ing Byron together, and you know how
" ' Noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers.'
32 My Day
I am sure you forgive us, and hope you will prove it by
asking us again.
"Your affectionate cousin,
" JUDITH RIVES."
There was an ominous pause and then the
old dame said, in her sternest magisterial manner :
" Tell Judy Rives to read Byron less and Lord
Chesterfield more." Turning to my aunt after
the dignified old servitor had bowed himself out,
she said, with fine scorn : " There's no use in telling
her to read Dr. Samuel Johnson ! 'D'esol'eel for
sooth ! and 'the foot of time'! That sounds
like that idiot, Tom Moore."
I had a very good time at Cousin Betsey's. I
helped to pick the berries and gather the eggs from
the nests in the privet hedge. Also for several days
I had a steady diet of " Fuller's pies."
As to the novel, if it appeared at all it fell upon
the public ear with a dull thud. Still, Cousin Betsey
must have been, in her way, a great woman, for it
was of her that Thomas Jefferson exclaimed, " God
send she were a man, that I might make her Pro
fessor in my University."
CHAPTER V
SOMETHING akin to the tulip mania of Hol
land possessed the Southern country in the early
thirties. The Morus multicaulis y upon the
leaves of which the silkworm feeds, can be propa
gated from slips or cuttings. These cuttings com
manded a fabulous price. To plant them was to
lay a sure foundation for a great fortune.
My uncle visited Richmond at a time when the
mania had reached fever-heat. Men hurried through
the streets, with bundles of twigs under their arms,
as if they were flying from an enemy. All over the
city auction sales were held, and fortunes lost or
gained as they are to-day in Wall Street with
the fluctuations of the market. " I saw old Jerry
White running with a bundle of sticks under his arm
as if the devil were after him," said my uncle, lazy,
rheumatic old Jerry, who had not for years left his
chimney corner in winter, or the bench upon which
he basked like a lizard in summer, except to eat and
sleep !
Long galleries, roofed with glass, were hastily
erected all over the country, the last year's eggs of
the Bombyx mori obtained at great price, and the
freshly gathered leaves of the Morus multicaulis laid
in readiness for their hatching.
My uncle ridiculed this madness, although as a
physician it interested him.
"> 33
34 My Day
" It does people good to stir them up," he de
clared. " It wakes up their livers and keeps them
out of mischief. It is a fine tonic. They will need
no bark and camomile while the fever lasts."
We made a pilgrimage to the distant farm of one
of the maniacs. With my narrow skirts drawn
closely around me, I tiptoed gingerly along the
aisles dividing the long tables, and saw the hideous,
grayish yellow, three-inch worms each one armed
with a rhinoceros-like horn on his head devouring
leaves for dear life. They had need for haste.
Their time was short. Think of the millions of
brave men and fair ladies who were waiting for the
strong, shining threads it was their humble destiny
to spin ! Meanwhile, the lazy moths, their raison
d'etre having been accomplished, enjoyed in ele
gant leisure the evening of their days of beneficence.
I saw the ease with which their spider-web thread
was caught in hot water, and wound in balls as easily
as I wound the wools for my aunt's knitting.
Nothing came of it all ! In time all the Morus
multicaulis was dug up, and good, sensible corn
planted in its stead. Old Jerry found again his warm
seat by the ingleside, where doubtless he
" backward mused on wasted time,"
and many a better man than poor Jerry was stricken
with amazement at his own folly. Does not Morus
come from the Greek word for " fool " ?
Next to his Bible and the Westminster Catechism,
my uncle pinned his faith to the Richmond Whig.
Henry Clay was his idol. To make Henry Clay
My Day 35
President of the United States was something to live
for. When the great man passed through Virginia,
all Hanover went to Richmond to do him honor,
ourselves among the number. He was a son of
Hanover, the " Mill boy of the Slashes." The old
Mother of Presidents could, never fear, give yet an
other son to the country ! No living man except
Webster equalled him in all that the world holds
essential to greatness none was as dear to the mass
of people. And yet neither could be elected to the
post of Chief Magistrate of those adoring people !
Clay, at the time he visited Richmond, was confi
dent he would win this honor. My uncle resolved
I should see " the next President." A procession
of citizens was to conduct him to a hall where a ban
quet awaited him. My uncle found a vacant door
step on the line of march, and there we awaited the
great man's coming. " Ah, there he comes !" ex
claimed my uncle. "Look well, little girl! You
may never again see the greatest man in the world."
But to look was impossible. The crowd thronged
us, and my uncle caught me to a vantage-ground on
his shoulder. A tumbling sea of hats was all I could
see ! Presently a space appeared in the procession,
and a tall man on the arm of another looked up with
a rare smile to the small maiden, lifted his hat, and
bowed to her ! My uncle never allowed me to for
get that one supreme moment in my child-life. To
this day I cannot look at the fine bronze statuette
of Henry Clay in my husband's library without a
sensation born of the pride of that hour.
I am afraid the small maiden dearly loved glory !
36 My Day
Nobody would ever have guessed the ambitious
little heart beating, the next winter, under the cherry
merino ; nor the conscious lips deep in her poke-bon
net that followed the prayers at church and implored
mercy for a miserable sinner ! For she had, during
that glorious summer, another shining hour to
remember. Those penitent lips had been kissed
by a great man all the way from England a man
who had kissed the hand of a queen! She had
a dim apprehension of virtue through the laying on
of hands in church. What, then, might not come in
the way of royal attribute from the laying on of lips !
Great thoughts like these so swelled my bosom
that I was fain to reveal them to my little Quaker
cousin at Shrubbery Hill. She received them gravely.
" Oh, Sara Agnes," she ventured, " I am afraid thee
is going to be one of the world's people ! " All the
same she had just dressed her doll Isabella in black
silk, with a lace mantilla! The Princess Isabella,
born, like myself, in 1830, was even then known as
the future queen of Spain. It was an age of young
queens.
Among the strangers from abroad who found their
way to Virginia, none was more honored in Han
over than the Quaker author and philanthropist,
Joseph John Gurney. He was the brother of
Elizabeth Fry, who gave her life to the amelioration
of the prison horrors of England.
My uncle entertained Dr. Gurney. The house
was filled with guests to its utmost capacity. A
picture of the long dining-tables rises before me
the gold-and-white best service, the flowers and
My Day 37
the sweetest flower of all, my young aunt. She was
tall and graceful and very beautiful, with large
gray eyes, dark curls framing her face, delicate fea
tures, a lovely smile ! She wore a narrow gown of
pearl silk, the " surplice " waist belted high, and
sleeves distended at the top by means of feather
cushions tied in the armholes. I remember my
uncle ordered the dinner to be served quietly and
in a leisurely manner. " These Englishmen eat
deliberately,'* he said. " Only Americans bolt their
food."
In the evening, after the dinner company had
left, a small party gathered around the astral lamp
in the parlor, and Dr. Gurney drew forth his scrap-
book and pencils, and began, as he talked, to re
touch sketches he had made during his journey.
The parlor was simply furnished. The Virginian
of that day seemed to attach small importance to the
style of his furniture. His chief pride was in his
table, his fine wines, his horses and equipage, and
the perfect comfort he could give his guests. There
was no bric-a-brac, there were no pictures or brackets
on the wall. " I have now," said an artist to me,
" seen everything hung on American walls except
buckwheat cakes ! I have seen the plate in which
they were served/'
This parlor at Cedar Grove admitted but one
picture a fine copy over the mantel of the School
of Athens, which my cousin Charles had brought as
a present for my aunt, when he last returned from
abroad. She was not responsible for the taste of
this inherited home, which she had not tenanted
38 My Day
very long. The walls of the parlor were papered
with a wonderful representation of a Venetian scene
- printed at intervals of perhaps four or more feet.
There was a castle with turrets and battlements ;
and a marble stair, flanked with roses in pots, de
scending into the water. Down this stair came the
most adorable creature in the world, roses on her
brocade gown, roses on her broad hat, and at the
foot of the stair a cavalier, also adorable, extended
his hand to conduct her to the gondola in waiting.
In the distance were more castles, more sea, more
gondolas.
In this room the distinguished stranger met
the company convened in his honor. If he gasped
or shuddered at the ornate walls, he gave no sign.
The little girl on the ottoman in the chimney cor
ner, permitted to sit up late because of the rare
occasion, listened with wide eyes to conversation
she could not understand. Weighty matters were
discussed, for all the world was alive to the ques
tion which had to be met later, the possibility of
freeing the slaves under the present constitutional
laws. This was a small gathering of the wise men
of our neighborhood come to consult a wise man
from the country that had met and solved a similar
problem. Perhaps all of these men had, like my
uncle, given freedom to inherited slaves.
Presently I found myself, as I half dreamed in
the corner, caught up by strong arms to the bosom
of the great man himself. Bending over the sleepy
head, he whispered a strange story how that, far
away across the seas, there was once a little girl
My Day 39
"just like you" who loved her play, and loved to
sit up and hear grown people talk how a lady
came to her one day and said, " My child, you
must study and learn to deny yourself much pleas
ure, for soon you will be the queen of England "
how the little girl neither laughed nor cried, but
said, " I will be good " how time had gone on, and
she had kept her promise and was now grown up to
be a lovely lady; and sure enough, just a little while
ago had been crowned queen and how every
body was glad, because they knew, as she had been a
good child, she would be a good queen.
That was a long time ago. Many things have
happened and been forgotten since then ; the Vene
tian lady and her cavalier have sailed away in un
known seas ; the good Englishman has long since
gone to his rest; the queen has won, God grant,
an immortal crown, having lived to be old, never
forgetting all along her life her promise ; and the
little girl has lived to be old, too ! She has dreamed
many dreams, but none more beautiful than the one
she probably dreamed that night, all roses and
castles and gondolas, and a gracious young queen
lovelier than all the rest.
Thus passed the first eight years of my life.
Compared with those that followed, they were years
of absolute serenity and happiness. They were not
gay. This was the time when people who " feared
God and desired to save their souls " felt bound to
forsake the Established Church, many of whose
clergy had become objects of disgust rather than of
reverence. Dissenters and Quakers lived ail around
40 My Day
us ; my uncle and aunt were Presbyterians, and I
heard little but sober talk in my early years. Some
times we attended the silent meetings of the Quak
ers, and sometimes old St. Martin's, to which many
of our Episcopal friends belonged. Extreme asceti
cism, however, was as far from the temper of my
aunt and uncle as was the extreme of dissipation.
They were strict in the observance of the Sabbath
and of all religious duties. Temperance in speech
and living, moderation, serenity, these ruled the
life at Cedar Grove.
And so, although I cannot claim that
" There was a star that danced,
And under it I was born,"
I look back with gratitude unspeakable to a beauti
ful childhood, and bless the memory of those who
suffered no "shapes of ill to hover near it," and
mar its perfect innocence.
CHAPTER VI
WHEN it was found that a refined and in
telligent society was inclined to crystal
lize around the court green of Albemarle
County, it became imperative to choose a fitting
name for a promising young village.
In 1761 there was a charming princess of Meck-
lenburg-Strelitz ; intelligent, amiable, and only
seventeen years of age. She had stepped forth
from the conventional ranks of the young noble
women of her day, and written a spirited letter to
Frederick the Great, in which she entreated him to
stop the ravages of war then desolating the German
States. She had painted in vivid colors the
miseries resulting from the brutality of the Prussian
soldiery.
It appears that this letter reached the eyes of the
Prince of Wales. He fell in love with the letter
before he ever knew the writer. In the same
year that he, as George III, ascended the throne of
England, the lovely Charlotte, Princess of Meck-
lenburg-Strelitz, became his wife. Charlottesville,
then, was a name of happy omen for the pretty
little town, and in three more years a county was
created, it would seem, expressly that it might be
called " Mecklenburg," and yet again a slice taken
from another county to form the county of Char
lotte.
41
42 My Day
The colony of Virginia was strewn thickly with
the names of royal England: King and Queen,
Charles City, Charlestown, King George, King
William, William and Mary, Prince Edward, Prin
cess Anne, Caroline, Prince George, Henrico,
Prince William. No less than four rivers were
named in honor of the good Queen Anne: Rapidan,
North Anna, South Anna, Rivanna. We might
almost call the roll of the House of Lords from a
list of Virginia counties.
Twenty-four years after the Princess Charlotte
had become a queen, Mrs. Abigail Adams, as our
minister's wife, was presented at the Court of St.
James. Alas for time, and perhaps for prejudice,
she found, in place of the charming princess, an
" embarrassed woman, not well-shaped nor handsome,
although bravely attired in purple and silver."
The interview was cold and stilted, but all the
" embarrassment " was on the part of royalty.
There had been a recent unpleasantness between
John Bull and Brother Jonathan ; King George,
however, brave Briton as he was, broke the ice, and
startled Mrs. Adams by giving her a hearty kiss !
She could not venture, however, to remind the
queen that we had named counties in her honor.
She might, in her present state of mind, have
deemed it an impertinence on our part.
I am so impatient under descriptions of scenery,
that I do not like to inflict them upon others. But
I wish I could stand with my reader upon the
elliptic plain formed by cutting down the apex of
Monticello. He would, I am sure, appreciate the
My Day 43
fascination of mountain, valley, and river which drew
the first settlers, and later the Randolphs, Gilmers,
William Wirt, and Thomas Jefferson, to the region
around Charlottesville. On the east the almost
level scene is bounded by the horizon, and on the
west the land seems to billow onward, wave after
wave, until it rises in the noble crests of the Blue
Ridge Mountains. A mist of green at our feet is
pierced here and there by the simple belfries of the
village churches, and a little farther on, glimpses
appear of the classic Pantheon and long colonnades
of the University of Virginia. Imagination may
fill in this picture, but reality will far exceed im
agination, especially if the happy moment is caught
at sunset when the mountains change color, from
rose through delicate shadings to amethyst, and
finally paint themselves deep blue against the even
ing sky. Then, should that sky chance to be
veiled with light, fleecy clouds all flame and gold
but I forbear !
This was the spot chosen by my aunt as the very
best for my education and my social life. The
town was small in the forties, indeed, is not yet a city.
It is described at that time as having four churches,
two book-stores, several dry-goods stores, and a
female seminary. The family of Governor Gilmer
lived on one of the little hills, Mr. Valentine South-
all on another, and we were fortunate enough to
secure a third, with a glorious view of the moun
tains and with grounds terraced to the foot of the
hill. Large gardens, grounds, and ornamental trees
surrounded all the houses. The best of these were
44 My Day
of plain brick of uniform unpretentious architec
ture, comfortable, and ample. A small brick build
ing at the foot of our lawn was my uncle's office,
and behind it, on my tenth birthday, he made me
plant a tree.
The " Female Seminary " had been really the
magnet that drew my dear aunt. It was a famous
school, presided over by an excellent and much-loved
Presbyterian clergyman. There it was supposed I
should learn everything my aunt could not teach
me.
Behold me, then, on a crisp October morning
wending my way to the great brick hive for girls.
I was going with my aunt to be examined for ad
mission. Her thoughts were, doubtless, anxious
enough about the creditable showing I should make.
Mine were anxious, too. I was conscious of a linen
bretelle apron under my pelisse, and my mind was
far from clear about the propriety of so juvenile a
garment. Suppose no other girl wore bretelle aprons !
However, when we marched up the broad brick-
paved walk and ascended the steps of the great
building, whose many windows seemed to stare at
us like lidless eyes, bretelle aprons sank into insig
nificance.
The room into which we were ushered seemed to
be filled with hundreds of girls, and the Reverend
Doctor's desk on a platform towered over them.
He was most affable and kind. The examination
lasted only a few minutes, a list of books was given
me, and a desk immediately in front of the principal
assigned me. Books were borrowed from some
My Day 45
other girl, the lessons for the next day pointed out,
and my school life began.
Remember, I had not yet planted my tenth birth
day tree. These were the books deemed suitable
for my age, Abercrombie's "Intellectual Philoso
phy," Watts on the " Improvement of the Mind,"
Goldsmith's " History of Greece," and somebody's
Natural Philosophy.
I worked hard on these subjects with the result
that, as I could not understand them, I learned by
rote a few words in answer to the questions. A
bright, amiable little scrap of a girl, who always
knew her lessons, volunteered to assist me. If any
collector of old books should happen to find a
volume of Watts on the Mind, much thumbed,
and blotted here and there with tears, and should
see within the early pages pencilled brackets en
closing the briefest possible answer to the questions,
that book, those tears, were mine; and the brackets
are the loving marks made by Margaret Wolfe,
whose memory I ever cherish.
"What is Logic?" questions the teacher's guide
at the bottom of the pages.
" Logic," answers Dr. Watts (in conspicuous pen
cilled brackets), "is the art of investigating and
communicating Truth."
I had been struggling with Dr. Watts, Abercrom-
bie, et a!., for several months, when my aunt reluc
tantly realized that, however admirable the school
might be for others, I was not improving in mind or
health. As soon as she arrived at this conclusion,
she decided to experiment with no more large fe-
46 My Day
male seminaries, but to educate me, as best she could,
at home.
At the same time I know that my dear aunt suf
fered from the overthrow of all her plans for my
education. She had, for my sake, made great sac
rifices in leaving her inherited home. These sac
rifices were all for naught. She must have felt keen
disappointment, and regret at the loss, toil, expense,
and, above all, my worse than wasted time.
Yet, after all, my time at school may not have been
utterly thrown away ! The experience may have
borne fruit that I know not of. Moreover, I had
learned something ! I learned that Logic is the art
of investigating and communicating Truth !
CHAPTER VII
MASTERS were found in a preparatory school
for my home education. Happy to escape
from the schoolroom, I worked as never
maiden worked before, loving my summer desk in
the apple tree in the garden, loving my winter desk
beside the blazing wood in my uncle's office, pas
sionately loving my music, and interested in the other
studies assigned me. With no competitive exami
nations to stimulate me, I yet made good progress.
Before I reached my thirteenth year, I had learned
to read French easily. I had wept over the tender
story of Picciola and the sorrows of Paul and Vir
ginia. I had sailed with Ulysses and trod the
flowery fields with Calypso. My aunt had beguiled
me into a course of history by allowing me as reward
those romances of Walter Scott which are founded
on historical events. My love of music and desire
to excel in it made me patient under the eccentric
itinerant music teacher, the one pioneer apostle of
classic music in all Virginia, who was known, more
than once, to arrive at midnight and call me up for
my lesson ; and who, while other maidens were play
ing the " Battle of Prague " and " Bonaparte cross
ing the Rhine," or singing the campaign songs of
the hero of the log cabin, taught me to love Bee
thoven and Liszt, and to discern the answering
voices in that genius, then young, whose magic
47
48 My Day
music fell not then, nor ever after, upon unheeding
ears. I had read with my aunt selections all the
way from " The Faerie Queene" through the times
of later queens, Elizabeth and Anne, and had
made a beginning with the queen for whom I had
a sentiment, and who has given her name to so fair
an age of fancy and of elegant writing. Alas, for the
mental training I might have had through the study
of mathematics ! Were it not that the lack of this
training must be apparent to all who are kind enough
to listen to my story, I might quote Joseph Jeffer
son, as Mr. William Winter reports him : " Why,
look at me ! I seem to have managed pretty well,
but I couldn't for the life of me add up a column
of figures." The only figures I know anything
about are figures of speech. Fortunately, I have
had little use for addition. My knowledge has been
quite sufficient for my needs.
My French teacher, Mr. Mertons, a square-
shouldered, spectacled German, with an upright
shock of coarse black hair, literally pounded the
French language into me. With a grammar held
aloft in his left hand, he emphasized every rule with
his right fist, coming down hard on my aunt's ma
hogany. If success is to be measured by results, I
can only say that, although I perceived some charm
in Mme. de Sevigne and in Dumas, I was rather
dense with Racine and Moliere ; and as to the
spoken language ! I can usually manage to convey,
by gesture and deliberate English, a twilight glim
mer of my meaning in talking to a polite Frenchman,
but blank darkness descends upon him when I speak
My Day 49
to him in "a French not spoken in France/' The
gift for " divers kinds of tongues " was not bestowed
upon me.
The music teacher deserves more than a passing
notice. He was unique. Mr. William C. Rives
found him somewhere in France, and promised him
a large salary if he would come to America, live near
or in Charlottesville, and teach his daughter Amelie.
He was the incarnation of thriftlessness ; with no
polish of manner, no idea of business, or order, or
of the necessity of paying a debt, but he was also
the incarnation of music ! My uncle again and again
satisfied the sheriff and released him from bonds.
Finally, he could not appear in town at all by day
light, and often arrived at midnight for my lesson.
Gladly my aunt would rise and dress to preside over
it. My teacher would disappear before the dawn.
He owed money all over town which he had not the
faintest intention of ever paying. More than once
his defenceless back could have borne witness to a
creditor's outraged feelings. But he was resource
ful. Thereafter he carried all his music, a thick
package, in a case sewed to the lining of his coat.
His back, rather than his breast, needed a shield.
It was amusing to see him pack himself up, as it
were, before venturing into the open.
But with all this, we prized him above rubies.
He was a brilliant pianist, a great genius; had
studied with Liszt, early appreciated Chopin, adored
Beethoven. One of his animated lessons would leave
me in a state " which fiddle-strings is weakness to
express my nerves," and yet no summons to duty
50 My Day
ever thrilled me with pleasure like his cc Koom on
ze biahno." Once there, absolute fidelity to the
composer's writing and the position of my hands
exacted all my attention. The margins of my music
were liberally adorned with illustrations of my fist
a clumsy bunch with an outsticking thumb.
I always felt keenly the charm of music, even
when it was beyond my comprehension. One day,
happening to look up from his own playing, he de
tected tears in my eyes. He was enraged in three
languages. " Himmel ! Zis is not bathetique !
Zis is scherzo I Eh, bien ! I blay him adagio."
And under shut teeth a sibilant whisper sounded
very much like " imbecile" as he hung his head to
one side, arched his brows, and drawled out the
theme in a ridiculous manner. Once I was so car
ried away by a delicious passage I was playing that
I diminished the tempo, that the linked sweetness
might be long drawn out. He literally danced !
He beat time furiously with both hands. " Ach ! is
ityou yourselluf, know bedder zan ze great maestro,"
and sweeping me from the piano stool he rendered
the passage properly.
One summer my aunt, in order that I might have
lessons, took board in a country place where he lived.
I was pleasing myself one day with a little German
song I had smuggled from town :
"The church bells are ringing, the village is gay,
And Leila is dressed in her bridal array.
She's wooed, and she's won
By a proud Baron's son,
And Leila, Leila, Leila's a Lady ! "
My Day 51
Proceeding gayly with the chorus, and exulting in
Leila's ladyship and good fortune, I was startled
by thunderous claps through the house. Mr.
Meerbach was fleeing to his own room, slam
ming the doors between himself and my unedu
cated voice!
Of course he lost his scholars. At last only
Amelie Rives, Jane Page, Eliza Meriwether, and
myself remained. We had to make up his salary
among us. " I hope you'll study, dear," said my
kind uncle ; " I am now giving eight dollars apiece
for your lessons." Jane Page played magnificently.
This rare young genius, a niece of Mrs. William C.
Rives, died young. The rest of us played well, too.
My teacher wished to take me to Richmond to
play for Thalberg his own difficult, florid music,
and was terribly chagrined at my aunt's refusal to
permit me to go.
The little Episcopal church and rectory were
just across the street, and the rector, Mr. Meade,
allowed me free access to the gallery, where I de
lighted to practise on the small pipe organ. I was
just tall enough to reach the foot notes. The
church was peculiarly interesting from the fact
that Thomas Jefferson, who is supposed to have
been a free thinker, had insisted upon building it
and had furnished the plans for it. Before it was
built, services were held in the Court House, which
Mr. Jefferson regularly attended, bringing his seat
with him on horseback from Monticello, "it be
ing," says Bishop Meade, " of some light machinery
which, folded up, was carried under his arm and,
52 My Day
unfolded, served for a seat on the floor of the
Court House.'*
I was thirteen years old when Mr. Meade sent for
me one evening to come to him in his vestry room.
He told me that the Episcopal Convention was to
meet in his church in two days, and he had just
discovered that Miss Willy (the organist) had ar
ranged an entire new service of chants and hymns.
He had requested her not to use it, urging that his
father the bishop, the clergy, and all his own
people knew and loved the old tunes, and could
not join in the new. Miss Willy had indignantly
resented his interference and threatened to resign,
with all her choir, unless he yielded. " I shall cer
tainly not yield," said the rector. " I have told
her that I know a little girl who will be glad to
help me. Now I wish you to play for the conven
tion, beginning day after to-morrow (Sunday), and
every evening during its session. This will give
you evening services all the week, beginning with
three on Sunday. I will see that familiar hymns
are selected, and you need chant none of the Psalms
except the Benedictus and Gloria in Excelsis."
I began, "Oh, I'm afraid- "No," said Mr.
Meade, " you're not afraid ; you are not going to be
afraid. Just be in your place fifteen minutes before
the time, and draw the curtain between you and the
audience. I shall send you a good choir."
I practised with a will next day. On the great
day, when I passed the sable giant, Ossian, pulling
away at the rope under the belfry, and heard the
solemn bell announcing that my hour had come, my
My Day 53
heart sank within me. But Ossian gave me a glit
tering smile which showed all his magnificent ivories.
He was grinning because he was going to pump the
organ for such a slip of a lass as I !
On arriving at the organ gallery, I found my
choir, several ladies whom I knew, and a group of
fine-looking students from the University. They
looked down kindly on the small organist, with her
hair hanging in two braids down her back. I reso
lutely kept that small back to the drawn curtain !
Only the tip of one of Miss Willy's nodding
plumes, and I should have been undone !
All went well. The singing was fine from half
a dozen manly throats, supplementing two or
three female voices and my own little pipe. I was
soon lost to my surroundings in the enjoyment of
my work. When, on the last day, the good bishop
asked for the grand old hymn, " How firm a foun
dation, ye saints of the Lord," it thrilled my soul to
hear the church fill with the triumphant singing of
the congregation, led by little me and my impro
vised choir.
CHAPTER VIII
THE society of Charlottesville in the forties
was composed of a few families of early resi
dents and of the professors at the University.
Governor Gilmer, Secretary of the Navy in Tyler's
time, Mr. Valentine Southall of an old Virginia
family, and himself eminent in his profession of the
law, Dr. Charles Carter, Professor Tucker, William B.
Rogers, Dr. McGuffey, Dr. Cabell, Professor Harri
son, all these names are well known and esteemed to
this day. There were young people in these families,
and all them were my friends. Along the road I
have travelled for so many years I have met none
superior to them and very few their equals.
My special coterie was a choice one. It included,
among others, Lizzie Gilmer (the lovely) and her
sisters ; beautiful Lucy Southall ; Maria Harrison
and her sweet sister Mary, both accomplished in
music and literature ; Eliza Rives and Mary
McGuffey. James Southall, William C. Rives, Jr.,
George Wythe Randolph, Jack Seddon, Kinsey
Johns, Professor Schele de Vere, John Randolph
Tucker, St. George Tucker these were habitues of
my home, and all apparently interested in me and in
my music. To each name I might append a list of
honors won, at the bar, in literature, and in the army.
I have survived them all and I kept the friendship
of each one as long as he lived.
54
My Day 55
The customs in entertaining differed from those
in vogue at the present day. Afternoon teas, which
had been fashionable during the Revolution tea
then being a rare luxury had not survived until
the forties. Choice Madeira in small glasses, and
fruit-cake were offered to afternoon callers. The
cake must always be au, naturel if served in the day
time. Cake iced in evening dress was only
permissible at the evening hour.
Dinner-parties demanded a large variety of dishes.
They were not served a la Russe. Two table-cloths
wvczderigueur for a dinner company. One was removed
with the dishes of meat, vegetables, celery, and many
pickles, all of which had been placed at once upon
the table. The cut-glass and silver dessert dishes
rested on the finest damask the housewife could pro
vide. This cloth removed, left the mahogany for
the final walnuts and wine.
Three o'clock was a late hour for a dinner-party
the ordinary family dinner was at two. The large
silver tureen, which is now enjoying a dignified old
age on our sideboards, had then place at the foot of the
table. After soup, boiled fish appeared at the head.
An interview has been preserved between a Wash
ington hostess of the time and Henry, an "expe
rienced and fashionable " caterer. Upon being
required to furnish the smallest list of dishes pos
sible for a " genteel " dinner-party of twelve persons,
he reluctantly reduced his menu to soup, fish, eight
dishes of meat, stewed celery, spinach, salsify, and
cauliflower. " Potatoes and beets would not be
genteel." The meats were turkey, ham, par-
56 My Day
tridges, mutton chops, sweetbreads, oyster pie,
pheasants, and canvas-back ducks. " Plum-pud
ding," suggested the hostess. " La, no, ma'am !
All kinds of puddings and pies are out of fashion."
" What, then, can I have at the head and foot of the
table ? " asked the hostess. " Forms of ice-crearn
at the head, and at the foot a handsome pyramid of
fruit. Side dishes, jellies, custards, blanc-mange,
cakes, sweetmeats, and sugar-plums." " No nuts,
raisins, figs? " " Oh, no, no, ma'am, they are quite
vulgar!"
For the informal supper-parties, to which my
aunt was wont to invite the governor and Mrs.
Gilmer, Mr. and Mrs. Southall, Professor and Mrs.
Tucker, the table was amply furnished with cold
tongue, ham, broiled chickens or partridges, and
pickled oysters, hot waffles, rolls and muffins, very
thin wheaten wafers, green sweetmeats, preserved
peaches, brandied peaches, cake, tea, and coffee ;
and in summer the fruits of the season. These
suppers made a brave showing with the Sheffield
candelabra and bowls of roses. Ten years later
these " high teas " were quite out of fashion, and
would, by a modern " fashionable caterer," be con
demned as "vulgar." There was a crusade against
all card-playing and dancing. The pendulum was
swinging far back from an earlier time when the punch
bowl and cards ruled the evening, and the dancing
master held long sessions, travelling from house to
house. To have a regular dancing party, with
violins and cotillon, was like " driving a coach-and-
six straight through the Ten Commandments !" My
My Day 57
aunt, however, had the courage of her convictions,
and allowed me small and early dances in our par
lor, with only piano music. Old Jesse Scott lived
at the foot of the hill but to the length of intro
ducing him and his violin we dared not go. As it
was, after our first offence, a sermon was preached in
the Presbyterian church against the vulgarity and
sin of dancing. My aunt listened respectfully but
continued the dance she deemed good for my health
and spirits.
The noblest of men, and one of my uncle's dear
est friends, was Thomas Walker Gilmer, Secretary
of the Navy during Tylers administration. He
was killed on the Potomac by the bursting of a gun
on trial for the first time. My uncle and aunt went
immediately to Washington to bring him home.
No man had ever been so loved and esteemed by
all who knew him. I have never seen such grief,
as the sorrow of his wife. She had been a brilliant
member of the Washington society, noted for ready
wit and repartee. Never, as long as she lived, did
she reenter social life. With her orphaned children
she lived on " The Hill " very near us. These
children were a part of our family always.
As time went on, and we grew tall, Lizzie and I,
students from the University found us out, and
had permission to visit us. Lizzie, three years my
senior, became engaged to St. George Tucker, one
of our choice circle. When more visitors called on
Lizzie than she could well entertain in an evening,
it was her custom to send Susan, a little pet negress
whom she had taught to read, running down the hill
58 My Day
with, " Please, Miss Hargrave, please, ma'am, Miss
Lizzie say she certn'ly will be glad if you let Miss
Sara come up an' help 'er with her comp'ny." My
aunt could never deny her anything. I was too
young, much too young, but we took our lives very
naturally and unconsciously, accepting a guest and
doing our best for him, whether he was old or young.
We were never announced as debutantes. No Rubi
con flowed across our path, on one side pinafores
and long braids, on the other purple-and-fine-linen
and elaborate coiffure, the which if stepped across
at an entertainment ushered us into society.
Lizzie and I felt that we were young hostesses, and
took pains to be, according to our lights, ceremonious
and conventional in our behavior. Some one or
two of our guests was sure to be George Gordon, or
James Southall, or " Jim " White, or " Sainty " Tucker,
who were as brothers to us ; and very watchful and
strict were these boy chaperons ! The great anxiety
was lest our visitors should stay too late. So my
aunt and Mrs. Gilmer carefully timed the burning
of a candle until ten o'clock, and all candles there
after were cut that length. When they began to
flicker in the sockets, good nights were expected.
Mrs. Gilmer's large house was divided in the mid
dle by a hall extending to a door in the rear. On
one side were the bedrooms of the family, on the
other the parlors and dining-room. She spent her
evenings in a darkened room, just across the hall
from the parlor, and although she had not the heart
to mingle with us, we knew she was near.
One night we had a number of guests, among them
My Day 59
a stranger, Mr. Tebbs, brought by one of our own
band who had introduced him and then left, Mr.
Tebbs remarking that he too must soon leave, as a
friend was down town waiting for him. The candles
burned low, and we allowed long pauses in conver
sation, vainly hoping the stranger would depart.
Presently the knocker sounded an alarum, and little
Susan hurried from her mistress's room to answer it.
We distinctly heard her announce, " Dish yer's a
letter, Miss Ann," and Mrs. Gilmer's languid reply,
"Light a candle and read it to me." We essayed to
drown Susan's voice, for I was quite sure it was a
peremptory order for me to come home, but it rang
out clearly and deliberately, " Tebbs, you damn ras
cal ! Are you going to stay at Mrs. Gilmer's all
night ! " To make matters worse, Susan immediately
appeared with the note for the blushing Mr. Tebbs,
who then and there bade us a long farewell. We
never saw him more ! A delicious little story was
told with keen relish by Juliet, the fifteen-year-old
daughter. She had, as she thought, "grown up,"
while her mother lived in seclusion, and had a boy-
lover of her own. Sitting, after hours, one moon
light night on the veranda under her mother's window,
the anxious youth was moved to seize the propitious
moment and declare himself. Juliet wished to answer
correctly, and dismiss him without wounding him.
She assured him "Mamma would never consent/
A voice from within decided the matter: "Accept
the young man, Juliet, if you want to I've not the
least objection and let him run along home now.
Be sure to bolt the door when you come in ! " Evi-
60 My Day
dently Mrs. Gilmer had small respect for boy-lovers ;
and wished to go to sleep.
The Gilmer home was full of treasures of books
and pictures. We turned over the great pages of
Hogarth and the illustrations of Shakespeare, very
much to the damage of these valuable books. Choice
old Madeira was kept in the cellar, to which we had
free access, mixing it with whipped cream or min
gling it with ice, sugar and nutmeg whenever we so
listed. A great gilded frame rested against the wall,
from which some large painting had been removed.
Over this we stretched a netting and inaugurated table
aux vivantes, of which we never wearied. I was al
ways Rowena, to whom Lizzie, as Rebecca the Jewess,
gave her jewels. One of the Gilmer boys made an
admirable Dr. Primrose, another Moses, whom we
dressed for the fair, and the other children were flower
girls, nuns, or pilgrims with staff and shell.
When one questions the possibility of this large
family living for several years without a head and
moving about decorously and systematically, we must
not forget the family butler, Mandelbert, and his wife,
Mammy Grace. Both were long past middle age.
They simply assumed the care of their broken-hearted
mistress and her children, ruling the house with
patient wisdom and kindness. Mammy Grace, so
well known fifty years ago in Virginia, was peculiar
in her speech, retaining the imagery of her race and
nothing of its dialect. She was straight and tall and
always carefully dressed. She wore a dark, close-fit
ting gown, which she called a "habit," a handkerchief
of plaid madras crossed upon her bosom, an ample
My Day 61
checked apron, and a cap with a full mob crown like
Martha Washington's. When she dropped her re
spectful " curtsey/' her salutation, " Your servant,
master," was less suggestive of deference than of
dignified self-respect. Her one fault was that, like
her mistress, she never knew when the children were
grown. This was sometimes embarrassing. As
surely as 8 o'clock Saturday night came, one after
the other would be called from the parlor, and would
obey instantly, for fear she would add more than a
hint of the thorough, personally superintended bath
which awaited each one.
Mandelbert was superb, tall, gray, and very stately.
He had been born and trained in the family, a model,
distingue-looking servant. Mammy Grace lived to
an honored old age, but a liberal use of fine old
Madeira proved the reverse of the modern lacteal
remedy for old age. In a few years there was no
more wine in the cellar and no more Mandelbert.
The grandmother of the Gilmer children was
Mrs. Ann Baker, a lovely old lady who wore a Le-
titia Ramolino turban, with little curls sewn within
its brim. She had been a passenger on James
Rumsey's boat in 1786 at Shepherdstown, when he
was the first to succeed by steam alone in propelling
a vessel against the current of the Potomac, and "at
the rate of four or five miles an hour ! " She was a
lovely, cultivated old lady, the widow of a distin
guished man. I cannot be quite sure, all witnesses
are gone, but I have a distinct impression I was
told that General Washington was a passenger with
Mrs. Baker on James Rumsey's boat.
CHAPTER IX
THE year after my fifteenth birthday was des
tined to be an eventful one to me. In May
of that year I wrote a letter to my aunt,
Mrs. Izard Bacon Rice, who lived at " The Oaks "
in Charlotte County. This letter, the earliest ex
tant of my girlhood, has recently been placed in my
hands, and I venture to hope I may be pardoned
for inserting the nai've production here ; not for any
intrinsic merit, but because of the light it reflects
upon my development and associations at the age
of fifteen, a light not to be acquired by mere recol
lection, as a photograph of the person must be
more lifelike than a sketch from memory.
" CHARLOTTESVILLE, May 25, 1845.
"Mv DEAR AUNT: I think that I have fully tested the
truth of the old saying, viz. ' Hope deferred maketh the
heart sick/ for I have hoped and hoped in vain for an
answer to my last letter, and since it does not make its
appearance, I write to request an explanation.
u I received a letter from Willie (Carrington) this morn
ing, and was rejoiced to hear that you still intend coming
to Charlottesville ' some of these times,' and that she
thinks of coming also. I am overjoyed at the idea of see
ing my dear little Henry, and Tom in a few weeks. Willie
says that Henry is beautiful, and that Tom has become
quite a famous beau, improved wonderfully in gallantry, etc.
I anticipate a great many long, pleasant walks with him,
62
My Day 63
though I am afraid he will not like Charlottesville, as he
will find no rabbits' tracks or partridges here. I hope you
will come the first of June and stay a long while with us.
u Aunt Mary has been very unwell for a long time, but
I am in hopes that she is getting a little better. I think
your visit will improve her wonderfully. We are all as
busy as we can be : aunt and uncle in the garden and yard,
and I studying my French lessons, sewing, reading, and
housekeeping for Aunt Mary when she is sick. I am
very disconsolate at the thought of losing my most intimate
friend (Lizzie Gilmer) for a few months. She is going to
Staunton, and I expect to miss her very much. We have
a very quiet time now as most of my acquaintances were
sent off 2^. the late disturbances at the University, and I can
study, undisturbed by company. I scarcely visit any one
except Lizzy, and receive more visits from her than any
one else, as she comes every day, and frequently two or
three times a day. I am going to spend my last evening
with her this evening, as she leaves to-morrow. I am very
sorry that Willie will not see her, as I know they would
like each other.
" Who do you think I have had a visit from ? No less
a personage than Dr. Schele de Vere, professor of modern
languages at the University. He has called on me twice,
but I, unfortunately, was not at home once when he called.
He is a German (one of the nobility), and speaks our lan
guage shockingly, and is such an incessant chatterer that he
gives me no possible chance of wedging in a syllable. He
walked with me from church last Sunday, and jabbered in
cessantly, much to the amusement of the congregation in
general, but particularly of two little boys who walked be
hind us. When he parted with us, he asked uncle's per
mission to visit us, which was granted ; and he seemed
very grateful, and said he ' would have de pleasure den of
sharing de doctor's hospitality and hearing some of Miss
64 My Day
Rice's fine music/ But what mortifies me beyond meas
ure is that he treats me as a little child, and inquires most
affectionately about my progress in music, etc. He is not
so much older than I am, either, as he is only twenty-one,
so /think he might be more respectful in his demeanor.
What do you think of it all ? He plays very well on the
piano, and has heard the best performers in Europe, so I
feel very reluctant to play for him. The first time he
heard me play, he wanted to applaud me as they do at con
certs, but he was checked by one of the company, who inti
mated to him that it was not customary in this country, so
he contented himself with clapping his hands several times.
" I have neither time nor paper for much more, so good-
by. Aunt Mary joins me in love and a kiss to all grand
father's household and to Tom, Henry, and Uncle Izard.
" Yours affectionately,
"SARA A. RICE.
" P.S. I send my best respects to Lethe, Viny, and Aunt
Chany, and my love to all the ducks, geese, chickens, tur
keys, and Tom's dogs.
"Yours affectionately,
"SARA A. RICE."
This sixty-four-year-old letter was beautifully writ
ten with a quill pen, clear and distinct without an
erasure, blotted with sand from a perforated box,
without envelope, and sealed with wax. Written in
figures upon the envelope was " Uncle Sam's " re
ceipt for prepaid postage, 12^ cents, no stamps hav
ing then been issued by him.
Fanciful seals and motto wafers were in high favor
among romantic young people. " L'amitie c'est
1'amour sans ailes " was a prime favorite ; also a
maiden in a shallop looking upward to a star, the
My Day 65
legend " Si je te perds je suis perdu." The most
delicate refusal to a lover on record was the lady's
card, " With thanks," sealed with a bird in flight and
" Liberty is sweet ! "
The " disturbances of late," for which my friends
were " suspended for a month," were not of a serious
nature. They were only the midnight pranks of
mischievous boys, such as hyphenating the livery-
stable's name " Le Tellier " to read " Letel-Liar, "
drawing his " hacks " to the doors of the citizens,
placing the undertaker's sign over the physician's
office, driving Mr. Schele's ponies, and leaving on
their flanks the painted words " So far for to-day,"
the phrase with which he invariably ended his lec
tures. It remained later for the student in whom I
was most interested to excel them all. He drove a
flock of sheep one dark night up the rotunda stairs
to the platform on the roof, and then shut down the
trap-door. A plaintive good-morning-bleating wel
comed faculty and students next day. Needless to
say, the valiant shepherd was " suspended."
Late in the summer of this year another large
convention of clergymen, Presbyterian this time,
was held at Charlottesville. No good hotel could
be found anywhere in Virginia. The landlord was
ruined by the hospitality of the citizens. As soon
as a pleasant stranger " put up " at a public house,
he was claimed as a guest by the first man who could
reach him.
When large religious or political or literary meet
ings convened in our town, my uncle would send
to the chairman asking for the number of guests
66 My Day
we could entertain. Until they arrived, we were as
much on the qui vive as if we had bought numbers
in a lottery.
On this occasion, Lizzie and I were in great grief.
She had been away from town for two months, and
was now to make me a long visit. We had made
plans for a lovely week. Now the house would be
filled with clergymen, no music, no visitors (and
Lizzie was engaged), no "fun"! My aunt sym
pathized with us, and fitted up a small room at the
far end of the hall, moved in the piano and guitar,
and bade us make ourselves at home.
We were seated at church behind a row of the
grave and reverend seniors, when Dr. White leaned
over our pew and said to one of them, " I'm glad to
tell you I can send you to Dr. Hargrave's. He
will take fine care of you."
" But," demurred the reverend gentleman, " I
have my son with me."
" Take him along ! There's plenty of room," re
plied the doctor.
Lizzie gave me a despairing glance. Now we are
ruined, we thought. A dreadful small boy to be
amused and kept out of mischief.
That afternoon we were condoling with each other
in our little city of refuge, when the opening front
door revealed among our guests a slender youth,
who, upon being directed to his room, sprang up
the stairs two or three steps at a time.
" Mercy ! " said I. " Worse and worse ! There's
no hope for us ! A strange young man to be enter
tained in our little parlor ! "
My Day 67
My aunt entering just then, we confided our mis
eries to her. " Never mind, Lizzie/' she said, " Sara
shall keep him in the large room. She must bring
down all her prettiest books and pictures and ar
range a table in a corner for his amusement. He
will not be here much of the time. He has to go
to church with his father, you know."
The name of this unwelcome intruder was Roger
A. Pryor. He made himself charming. I had not
yet tucked up my long braids, but he treated me
beautifully. He was so alert, so witty, so amiable,
that he was unanimously voted the freedom of our
sanctum. He entered with glee into our schemes
for self-defence. Running out to a shrub on the lawn,
he returned with a handful of " wax berries," gravely
explained, " ammunition," and proceeded to test the
range of the missile. Just then one of the enemy, the
great Dr. Plumer, entered the hall, and the soft berry
neatly reached his dignified nose. His Reverence
gave no sign of intelligence. He had been a boy him
self!
St. George Tucker took an immense fancy to our
new ally. He found a great deal to say to me.
How glad was I that my aunt had given me a new
rose-colored silk bonnet from Mme. Viglini's.
The week passed like a dream. When the stage
drew up at midnight to take our guest to the rail
road, seven miles distant, we were both very triste
at parting.
He was sixteen years old, was to graduate next
summer at Hampden Sidney College, and come the
session afterward to our University. I hoped all
68 My Day
would go well with him; and after the winding horn
of the stage was quite out of hearing, I, well, I had
been taught early to entreat the Father of all to take
care of my friends. There could be no great harm
in including him by name, nor yet in adding to my
petition the words "for me!"
I suppose I may have seemed a bit distrait after
this incident, for my uncle, who was always devising
occupation for me, insisted upon my writing a story.
I liked to please him, and I surprised him by produc
ing a love story. I think I called it " The Birthnight
Ball." I remember this quotation, which I con
sidered quite delicate and suggestive :
" The stars, with vain ambition, emulate her eyes."
That is all I remember of my story. My uncle sent
it to the Saturday Evening Post in Philadelphia and
it was accepted, the editor proposing, as I was a young
writer, to waive the honorarium I I was only too glad
to accept the honor.
In the autumn my uncle took us on a long journey
to Niagara Falls and the Northern Lakes. In New
York we stopped at the Astor House on Broadway,
and my room looked into the park then opposite,
where scarlet flamingoes gathered around a fountain.
We walked in the beautiful Bowling Green Park,
then the fashionable promenade, took tea with the
Miss Bleeckers on Bleecker Street, and bought a lovely
set of turquoises, a jewelled comb, and a white topaz
brooch from Tiffany's. Moreover, my seat at table
was near that of John Quincy Adams, now an aged
man, paralytic, and almost incapable of conveying
his food to his lips. He was charmingly cheer-
My Day 69
ful, and courteous to a sweet-faced lady who
attended him.
I think we took the canal-boat in Schenectady
which was to convey us across the state of New
York.
My uncle had been beguiled in New York by a
flaming pictorial advertisement of palatial packet-
boats, drawn by spirited horses galloping at full speed.
When we entered our little craft, we found it so
crowded that we were wretchedly uncomfortable.
Possibly, in our ignorance, we had not taken the fine
packet of the advertisement. Our own boat crawled
along at a snail's pace, making three or four miles an
hour. Many of the passengers left it every morning,
preferring to walk ahead and wait for us until night.
We made the journey in five or six days. The
heat, the discomfort, the mosquitoes ! Who can
imagine the misery of that journey ? Fresh from the
mountains and gorgeous sunsets of Albemarle, we
found little to admire in the scenery.
As to the Falls, which we had come so far to see
they and their entourage made me ill. It was all
so weird and strange ; the dark forests of evergreen,
pine, and spruce ; the sullen Indians, squatted around
blankets, embroidering with beads and porcupine
quills ; the hapless little Indian babies strapped to
boards and swinging in the trees, and over all, the
heavy roar of the waters. The immensity of their
power filled me with terror. I longed to get away
from the awful spectacle.
The best part of a journey is the home-coming.
The dear familiar house, we never knew how good
70 My Day
it was, the welcome of affectionate, cheerful ser
vants ; the dogs beside themselves with joy, the per
fect peace, leisure, relaxation ! Flowers, fruit, and
much accumulated mail awaited us. My keen eye
detected a large-enveloped paper from Philadelphia,
and my nimble fingers quickly abstracted it, unper-
ceived, from the miscellaneous heap, and consigned
it to a bureau drawer in my room, the key of which
went into my pocket.
In the privacy of my bedtime hour having
bolted the door I drew it forth. Oh, what in
ane foolishness ! What sad trash ! Tearing it into
strips, I lighted each one at my candle and saw
the whole burned burned to impalpable smoke
and degraded dust and ashes ; consigned then and
there to utter oblivion !
My uncle often wondered why the story had not
appeared. There was a perilous moment when he
threatened to write to the publishers, but I per
suaded him to be patient and dignified about it, and
the matter, after a while, was forgotten. Never was
an uncle so managed by a young girl !
I think my great card with him was my interest
in his office work. Physicians compounded and
prepared their own prescriptions sixty-five years ago.
He delighted in me when I donned my ample apron
and, armed with scales and spatula, gravely assumed
the airs of a physician's assistant. I knew all his
professional manoeuvres to satisfy hypochondriac old
gentlemen and nervous old ladies. I learned to
make the innocuous pills which " helped " them " so
much," and the carminative for the aching little stom-
MRS. FANNY BLAND RANDOLPH.
My Day 71
achs of the babies. Great have been the strides since
then in the noblest of all professions !
Just here I venture to illustrate some of the radi
cal changes in the practice of medicine by extracts
from a letter written by Dr. Theodorick Bland to
his sister, Fanny Bland Randolph. The letter is
copied from the original in the possession of the late
Joseph Bryan of Richmond, Virginia.
The treatment in 1840 differed in no material
particular from that of 1771, when Dr. Bland
prescribed regretting the necessity of "absent
treatment" to his sister's husband, John Ran
dolph, as follows :
u I take Mr. Randolph's case to be a bilious intermit
tent, something of the inflammatory kind, which, had he
been bled pretty plentifully in the beginning, would have
intermitted perfectly; but unless his pulse is hard and, as it
were, laboring and strong, I would not advise that he should
now be bled ; but if they are strong and his head-ache vio
lent, and the weight of the stomach great, let him lose
about six ounces of blood from the arm, and if he is much
relieved from that, and his pulse rises and is full and strong
after it, a little more may be taken. Let his body be kept
open by Clysters, made with chicken water, molasses, de
coction of marsh-mallows and manna, given once, twice or
three times, nay, even four times a day if occasion re
quires, and let him have manna and cream of tartar dis
solved in Barley Water, one ounce of manna and a half
ounce of Cream of Tartar to every pint. Of this let him
drink plentifully, but prior to this, after bleeding (should
bleeding be necessary) let him take a vomit of Ipecac, four
grains every half hour until he has four or five plentiful
vomits, drinking plentifully of Camomile Tea (to three or
72 My Day
four pints at intervals) to work it off. Should the pain in
the head be violent and the eyes red and heavy, let his tem
ples be cupped or leeches applied to his temples, which
operation may be repeated every day, if he find relief from
it, for two or three days. If the manna, Cream of Tartar
and Clysters be not effectual, let him take fifteen grains of
rhubarb and as many of Vitriolated Tartar, repeating the
dose, twice or three times at six or eight hours intervals.
Should he have any catching of the nerves, let one of the
powders be given every four hours in a spoonful of jalop or
pennyroyal water. Should he be delirious, sleepy, or dozing
in a half kind of a sleep, his pulse small and quick, put
blisters to his back, arms and legs, and leeches and cupping
to his temples. If his skin should be hot, dry and parched
after he has taken his vomit or before, let him be put in a
tub of warm water with vinegar in it, up to his arm-pits and
continue in it as long as he can bear it, first wetting his
head therein. He may, now and then, drink a little claret-
whey and have his tongue sponged with sage-tea, honey
and vinegar. Dear Fanny, with sincere wishes for his safe
and speedy recovery, and love to him and your dear little
ones,
" Your affectionate brother,
" T. BLAND."
It is difficult to imagine that one of the " dear
little ones" was John Randolph of Roanoke that
incarnation of genius and outrageous temper. His
father survived Dr. Eland's treatment only a few
years. Still, fidelity to historic truth impels me to
state that we have no evidence that the doctor was
in league with Henry St. George Tucker, who al
most immediately married the widow !
CHAPTER X
MANY of the best types of purely American
society could have been found in the forties
in the towns of the country. Now every
body, high and low, rich and poor, seeks a home in
the cities. It is not without reason that all classes
should flock to the metropolis. There wealth can
be enjoyed, poverty aided, talent appreciated ; but
there individual influence is almost lost. The
temptation to self-assertion, repugnant as it is to re
fined feeling, is almost irresistible. Men and women
must assert themselves or sink into oblivion. No
body has time to climb the rickety stairs to find the
genius in the attic. Nobody looks for the states
man among the serene adherents to the "Simple
Life." Had Cincinnatus lived at this day, he would
have ploughed to the end of his furrow. Nobody
would have interrupted him.
The absence of all the hurry and fever of life made
the little town of Charlottesville an ideal home before
the cataclysm of 1861. The professors at the Uni
versity could live, in the moderate age, upon their
modest salaries, and have something to spare for
entertaining. The village contingent was refined,
amiable, and intelligent. Staunton sent us, every
winter, her young ladies, the daughters of Judge
Lucas Thompson, all of whom were finally absorbed
73
74 My Day
by the descendants of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton,
Maryland. From the neighborhood on the Buck-
mountain Road came the family of William C. Rives,
twice our envoy to the Court of Versailles, and many
times sent to the Senate of the United States. The
"gallant Gordons, many a one/' the Randolphs and
Pages, and Mr. Stevenson, late Minister to England,
all these lived near enough to be neighbors and
visitors. Across Moore's Creek, at the foot of
Monticello, was the house of Mr. Alexander Rives.
There lived my sweet friend and bridesmaid, Eliza
Rives, and there I could call for a glass of lemonade
when on my way to Monticello, guiding, as I often
did, some stranger-guest to visit the home of Thomas
Jefferson. We would pass through the straggling
bushes of Scottish broom which bordered the road
planted originally by Mr. Jefferson himself pause
at the modest monument over his ashes, and rever
ently ponder the inscription thereon. In his own
handwriting, among his papers, had been found the
record he desired not that he had been Minister
to France and Secretary of State, not that he had been
twice President of the United States, but simply,
" Here lies buried Thomas Jefferson, Author of the
Declaration of American Independence, of the Statute of
Virginia for Religious Freedom, and Father of the Uni
versity of Virginia."
A few steps through the woods would bring us to
the plateau commanding the noble view I have tried
to describe. I loved the spot, the glorious moun
tains, the glimpse at our feet of the Greek temple
My Day 75
in its sacred grove, the atmosphere of mystery and
romance. Once I saw a solitary fleur-de-lis unfurl
ing its imperial banner on the site of the abandoned
garden. Once I was permitted, in the absence of
the owner, to explore an upper floor in the villa, and
was startled by a white, strained face gleaming out
from a dim alcove. This was the bust of Voltaire.
A happy, happy young girl was I on these rides,
mounted on my own horse, Phil Duval, and not
unconscious of my becoming green cloth habit,
green velvet turban, and long green feather, fastened
with a diamond buckle as I believed it to be !
Young girls reared in a university town and ad
mitted to the friendship of the professors' families
must be dull indeed if they absorb nothing from
the literary atmosphere. My dear aunt was an
accomplished English scholar. Her father had
been the friend and neighbor of Patrick Henry,
her husband had been one of John Randolph's phy
sicians. My close friends, the Gilmers, Southalls,
and the daughters of Professor Harrison, all had
brothers who were students, and we strove to keep
pace with these fine young fellows and meet them
on English ground at least.
We had no circulating library in Charlottesville,
and depended upon the mails for our current literature.
We saw Graham s Magazine from Philadelphia, the
Home Journal from New York, the Southern Liter
ary Messenger from Richmond. Dickens's novels
reached us from London, issued then in monthly
sections, and we impatiently awaited them. " Oh,
Sara, have you been introduced to Mr. Toots?"
j6 My Day
wrote Maria Gordon ; "he is so much in love with
Florence Dombey, he c feels as if somebody was
a-settin'on him ! '
We liked Dickens better than Walter Scott. We
found the remarks of Captain Clutterbuck and the
Rev. Dryasdust hard to bear, barring the door to the
enchanted palace until they had their say. To be
sure, Dickens could be tiresome too, pausing in the
middle of an exciting story while somebody the
"stroller" or the "bagman" related something
wholly irrelevant. To my mind, a story within a
story was a nuisance. It was like a patch on a
garment. The garment might be homespun and the
patch satin, but it was a blemish, nevertheless, some
thing put on to help a weak place. I skipped these
stories then and skip them now !
As to Thackeray, I blush to say we did not appre
ciate him when he appeared as " Michael Angelo
Titmarsh." But we all knew Becky ! She was only
a sublimated little Miss Betsy Stevens, a ragged
mountain woman who sold peaches on a small com
mission, and who, like Becky, having " no mamma"
or other asset, lived by her wits.
Perhaps in our estimation of Thackeray we
were guided somewhat by his own countrymen. An
English paper fell in our hands which was not at
all respectful to " Chawls-Yellowplush-Angelo-Tit-
marsh-Jeames-William-Makepeace-Thackeray, Es
quire of London Town in old England." Such
ridicule would soon settle him ! No man could
survive it.
None of the visiting authors deigned to call on
My Day 77
us, Thackeray, Dickens, Miss Martineau, all
passed us by. True, Frederika Bremer conde
scended to spend a night with her compatriot, Mr.
Schele de Vere, en route to the South, where she was
to find little to admire except bananas. Mr. Schele
invited a choice company to spend the one evening
Miss Bremer granted him. Her novels were ex
tremely popular with us. Every one was on tiptoe
of pleased anticipation. While the waiting company
eagerly expected her, the door opened not for
Miss Bremer, but her companion, who an
nounced :
" Miss Bremer, she beg excuse. She ver tired
and must sleep ! If she come, she gape in your
noses ! "
Alas for tourist's help in the translating books !
"Face" and "nose," "gape" and "yawn," al
though not synonymic, bear at least a cousinly re
lation to each other.
The beautiful Christian custom of lighting a Christ
mas tree bringing " the glory of Lebanon, the fir
tree, the pine tree, and the box," to hallow our festival
had not yet obtained in Virginia. We had heard
much of the German Christmas tree, but had never
seen one. Lizzie Gilmer, who was to marry a younger
son of the house, was intimate with the Tuckers,
and brought great reports of the preparation of the
first Christmas tree ever seen in Virginia.
I had not yet been allowed to attend the parties
of "grown-up" people, but our young friend John
Randolph Tucker was coming of age on Christmas
Eve, and great pressure was brought to bear upon
78 My Day
my aunt to permit me to attend the birthday cele
bration. This was a memorable occasion. " Rare
Ran Tucker " was a prime favorite with the older
set, handsome, distingue, and already marked for the
high place he attained later on the honor roll of his
country.
My aunt could not persist in her rules for me,
and I was permitted, provided I went as " a little
girl in a high-necked dress," to accompany Lizzie.
My much-discussed gown was of blue silk, open
ing over white, and laced from throat to hem with
narrow black velvet ! Never, never was girl as
happy ! The tree loaded with tiny baskets of bon
bons, each enriched with an original rhyming jest or
sentiment, was magnificent, the supper delicious, the
speeches and poems from the two old judges (Tucker)
were apt and witty. I went as a little girl a close
bud but no " high-necked" gown ever prisoned a
happier heart.
It seems to me, as I look back, that my Univer
sity friends, Mr. Schele de Vere, James Southall,
William C. Rives, Jr., George Wythe Randolph,
Roger Pryor, et aL, felt all at once a very kind interest
in my education. They sent me no end of books.
The last presented me with a gorgeous Shakespeare,
also Macaulay's "Essays," Hazlitt's "Age of Eliza
beth " and Leigh Hunt's "Fancy and Imagination,"
and came himself to read them to me, along with
Shelley, Keats, Byron, and Coleridge. Mr. Schele
sent me much music and French literature, he also
coming to read the latter with me. William C. Rives
loved my music, to which he could listen by the
My Day 79
hour. I kept the friendship of these brilliant men
as long as they lived. Only two lived to be old.
The Tuckers were a family of literary distinction
One of the happiest and wittiest of them was my
dear Lizzie's husband, St. George Tucker. Any
thing, everything, would provoke a pun, a parody,
or a graceful rhyme.
When it was proposed to change the name of
" Competition " a court-house village in the county
of Pittsylvania to "Chatham," he produced a
pencil and paper, and in a moment gave :
(t Illustrious Pitt, how glorious is thy fame,
When Competition dies in Chatham's name."
He was a friend of G. P. R. James, whom he once
surprised eating a very " ripe " cheese.
" You see, Tucker, I am, like Samson, slaying my
thousands."
" And with the same weapon ? " inquired St.
George.
We had a delightful addition to our society in
Powhatan Starke, who came from the Eastern Shore,
and spent a year first as a guest of the Southalls,
and later of all of us. He seemed to have been
created for the express purpose of making people
happy. He would have us all convulsed with laugh
ter while he held the woollen skeins for my aunt's
knitting. He taught me on the piano waltzes not
to be found in the books ; and the polka, a new
dance with picturesque figures just then introduced.
He joined in and enhanced every scheme for pleasure,
and would finally spend half the night serenading us.
8o My Day
" The serenade," according to a recent definition,
"is a cherished courtship custom of primitive socie
ties." Courtship had nothing to do with it in 1847.
It was only a delicate compliment to ladies who had
entertained the serenaders. Four or five voices in
unison would sing such songs as " Oft in the Stilly
Night," "The Last Rose of Summer," "Eileen
Aroon," "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton," and one
voice render Rizzio's lovely song :
" Queen of my soul whose starlit eyes
Are all the light I seek,
Whose voice in sweetest melodies
Can love or pardon speak ;
I yield me to thy soft control
Mary Mary Queen of my soul !
( Chorus} Mary ! Mary ! Queen of my soul ! ' '
With the first twang of the guitar strings we would
slip from our beds, find our shawls and slippers, and
creep downstairs. Crouched close to the door, we
would listen for Five I' amour, the song always con
cluding the serenade :
" Let every bachelor fill up his glass,
Vive la Compagnie !
And drink to the health of his favorite lass,
Vive la Compagnie ! ' '
And just here, rising as it were to a question of privi
lege concerning individual rights, let me solemnly
assure my reader that I do not plagiarize from
" Trilby." The low-hanging fruit of Mr. Du
Maurier's bountiful orchard is to be desired to
make wise the daughters of Eve, but this Eve has
no occasion to rob it. Au contraire ! Powhatan
My Day 81
Starke had brought this song from Paris in the
forties and sung it for us twenty years before, ac
cording to Du Maurier, the " genteel Carnegie "
had given it in his hiccupy voice to the Laird,
Taffy, Little Billie, Dodor, Zouzou, and the rest.
Personally, I should like to help myself with both
hands to the clever things the young authors are
writing. But I am " proud, tho' poor ! " Besides, I
should be found out ! " Mon verre n'est pas grand,
mais je bois dans mon verre."
I know, I have heard, but one verse of this im
mortal song. All the rest were freshly made,
whether at dinner, evening party, or moonlight sere
nade, to suit the company and the occasion. The
chorus, as rendered by Carnegie the genteel, was :
" Veeverler, Veeverler, ve verier vee
Veverler Company ee."
But my friend twenty years before respected it
enough to be accurate :
" Vive ! Vive ! Vive P amour
Vive la compagnie ! ' '
Only he, like les autres^ sometimes dropped his
" r's." They were all nice in their pronunciation.
They gave to the broad " a " its fullest due.
"E'en the slight hahbell raised its head
Elahstic from her ahry tread ! ' '
exclaimed George Gordon, as one of the maidens
tripped across the lawn. But even he was some
times indifferent to the rights, as a terminal, of the
letter " r " ; for only as a terminal does the Southern
82 My Day
tongue utterly scorn it. When but a lisping infant,
a possible orator was drilled in the test words :
"Around the rugged rocks
The ragged rascal ran,"
and taught to roll the elusive consonant to the ut
most limit.
But I must linger no longer in this enchanted
valley among the mountains. A long road lies be
fore me. I must pass swiftly on. With just such
trifling events I might fill my book. Dear to every
heart are the annals of its youth ; before we enter
the vast world of
" Effort, and expectation and desire
And something evermore about to be."
We cherish the sweet nothings of a happy time as
we preserve dried rose-leaves. Mayhap through
their faint fragrance we may dream the rose !
It was a busy time as well as a happy time. I
was helping Mrs. William C. Rives build a church ;
I was hemstitching all the ruffles for Thomasia
Woodson's trousseau ; I was playing waltzes, ad
infinitum, at the house-parties in Charlotte the
Henrys and Carringtons and singing campaign
songs, to the great delight of my dear grandfather,
in honor of my old friend, Henry Clay, whom we
were once more trying to make our President : -
" Get out o' the way, you're all unlucky ;
Clear the track for old Kentucky ! ' '
(And just here I wish to record the fact that only
once in all my life did my old grandfather ever re-
My Day 83
prove me. I had committed a flagrant act of lese
majestie. I had put a nightcap on the bust of
Patrick Henry !)
But my dear aunt's invitations, written on paper
embossed with an orange-blossom and tied with
white satin ribbon, were now issued for my wedding.
I had begun my acquaintance with the young
man known now as " the General," or " the Judge,"
by beseeching God to take care of him. According
to my Presbyterian training, I was taught that every
prayer must be followed by efforts for its fulfilment.
It was clearly my duty "to take care of him." He
needed it.
CHAPTER XI
TWO years after our marriage, my husband
was seriously ill from an affection of the throat,
and consulted Dr. Green, an eminent specialist
of Philadelphia. He was ordered to a warmer cli
mate, and forbidden to speak in or out of court.
The tiny law office at a corner of the court green in
Charlottesville was abandoned, and we hastened to
Petersburg, near his birthplace. As it was ab
solutely impossible for him to exist without occupa
tion, he purchased a newspaper, sallied forth one
morning to solicit subscribers for " The South Side
Democrat" and before a week's end was justified in
beginning its issue.
This step determined his career in life. He did
not practise law until he came to New York in 1865.
At the age of twenty-two he became an enthusi
astic editor. The little South Side Democrat soon
evinced pluck and spirit. Its youthful editor sailed
his small craft right into the troubled sea of politics,
local and national, to sink or swim according to its
merits and the wisdom of its pilot. It was loved of
the gods, with the inevitable result, but not until
he left it.
I remember our first meeting with Stephen A.
Douglas, so soon to become a conspicuous figure in
our political history. He had just returned from
Europe, and was passing through Petersburg with
8 4
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS.
My Day 85
his first wife (Miss Martin of North Carolina), and
of course glad to talk with the editor of a Democratic
paper, aspiring as he did to the highest office in
the country. He was thirty-nine years old, and
below the average height. But the word insignificant
could never have been applied to him. There was
something in his air, his carriage, that forbade it.
His massive head, his resolute face, more than com
pensated for his short stature.
He has always been accused of rude, unconven
tional manners. He was enough of a courtier to
inform me that I resembled the Empress Eugenie.
To us he took the trouble to be charming, talked
of his European experience of everything, in fact,
except the perilous stuff burning in his own bosom,
his hunger for the presidency. Like my editor, he
had been admitted to the bar before he had reached
his majority. The parallel was to appear again
later. Mr. Douglas also had been a representative
in Congress at thirty.
My husband was a delegate to the Democratic
Convention that nominated Franklin Pierce in 1852,
and Mr. Douglas suffered himself to be a candidate.
The " Little Giant " received at first only 20
votes, but he steadily increased until Virginia cast
her 15 votes for Mr. Pierce, after which there was
" a stampede " which decided the matter. Some
writer reminded Douglas that vaulting ambition
overleaps itself, but added dryly, " Perhaps the little
Judge never read Shakespeare and does not think of
this."
An interesting event in Petersburg was a brief
86 My Day
visit from Louis Kossuth en route to the Southern
and Western cities, his avowed purpose being " to
invoke the aid of the great American republic to
protect his people ; peaceably, if they may, by the
moral influence of their declarations ; but forcibly, if
they must, by the physical power of their arm to
prevent any foreign interference in the struggle to be
renewed for the liberties of Hungary."
Our Congress, it will be remembered, 1 had, after
Kossuth's defeat and his detention in Turkey
whither he had fled for refuge directed the Presi
dent to offer one of the ships of our Mediterranean
squadron to bring him and his suite to our country.
The Turkish government had no especial use for Gov
ernor Kossuth as a guest or as a captive, and accord
ingly he landed from the steamer Vanderbilt which
had been sent with a committee to meet him, at
New York quarantine, December 5, 1851, at one
o'clock in the morning. Early as was the hour, a
great crowd collected on shore to greet him. A
salute of twenty-one guns and an address of welcome
from the health-officer at once assured him that he
came to us, not to be pitied as a defeated refugee,
but to receive all honor due a conquering hero.
As his boat steamed by, Governor's Island gave him
a salute of thirty-one guns, New Jersey one hun
dred and twenty, and New York, but we know how
New York can behave ! Steamers, great and small,
whistled, pistols and guns were fired, Hungarian
cheers were shouted, and our Stars and Stripes took
into close embrace the Hungarian flag. We know
1 Rhodes' s " History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231 et sej.
My Day 87
New York hospitality, and her enthusiasm, nay, crazy
excitement when something, anything, novel and in
teresting happens.
When Kossuth reached Castle Garden, the un
happy mayor essayed in vain to read his speech.
Speech, indeed ! A hundred thousand throats were
aching with a speech, and they delivered it with a
roar 1
" There was/' says a reporter, " a continuous roar
of cheers like waves on the shore." Every house
was decorated ; and as the hero passed, mounted on
Black Warrior, a horse which had borne conquerors
in many Florida and Mexican wars, the street was
jammed with enthusiastic people, and the windows
alive with women and children. Never, since the
landing of Lafayette, had New York so abandoned
herself to enthusiasm. The story is too long of
the speeches, processions, dinners, receptions, fire
works, etc. to be repeated fully in these pages.
Of course, the little South Side Democrat threw
up its cap with the rest. Kossuth, when he reached
the town, had already received honors of which his
wildest fancy never dreamed, and we did our best to
echo them according to our ability. There were
several ladies in his suite to whom I paid my respects
(I am not sure his wife was among them), and the
only impression they made upon me was one of ex
treme weariness. They spoke English fairly well,
but were too utterly worn out to exhibit the least
animation. Kossuth spoke English perfectly. He
had a long talk with my young editor, to whom he
gave a huge cigar, which was never reduced to ashes!
88 My Day
But after he left, the South Side Democrat came to
its senses (having never utterly lost them), and ex
pressed a decided opinion in favor of the non-inter
vention of this country in the affairs of Hungary,
giving good reasons therefor. Kossuth, when the
paper was handed him, read the editorial carefully,
and exclaimed, " So young, and yet so depraved ! "
adding, with his usual tact, " I mean, of course,
politically ! "
But even at this highest pinnacle of glory in New
York, when an editorial banquet was given him at
The Astor by George Bancroft, William Cullen
Bryant, Henry J. Raymond, Parke Godwin, Henry
Ward Beecher, Charles A. Dana, and others, Mr.
Webster had coldly declined attendance.
His letter was received with hisses and groans.
" Kossuth," said Mr. Webster, in a private letter
from Washington, "is a gentleman in appearance
and demeanor, is handsome enough in person,
evidently intellectual and dignified, amiable and grace
ful in his manners. I shall treat him with all per
sonal and individual respect ; but if he should speak
to me of the policy of ( intervention/ I shall have
ears more deaf than adders'."
The Senate, the President, Congress, all received
him cordially. He dined at the White House ; was
treated with the utmost distinction, and a seat of
honor assigned him on the floor of the Senate ; but
before he left Washington, every one except himself
knew that his mission had failed. He soon discov
ered it, and appealed no longer for intervention but
for money. He complained bitterly at Pittsburg
My Day 89
that he had received little but costly banquets and
foolish parades. The net amount of the contribu
tions to his cause was less than $100,000, and accord
ing to his statement at Pittsburg, only $30,000
remained for the purchase of muskets. We had
expressed with enthusiasm our appreciation of his pa
triotism, courage, and devotion. We had enter
tained him en prince. We had added a substantial
gift. It was not enough.
The citizens of New York very soon calmed down,
and by the middle of January the name of Kossuth
was rarely mentioned. When Congress came to
audit his hotel bill, it fairly gasped ! The retainers
of the poor refugee had not been poor livers. They
had occupied luxurious apartments, and proved be
yond a shadow of doubt the Hungarian appreciation
of old Madeira and champagne. No one, however,
could accuse the hero himself of excess. Still, all at
once, he seemed less of a hero.
One unprejudiced looker-on in Vienna, Ampere,
wrote of Kossuth at the editorial dinner, "He has
the bad taste to love fanciful dress, wore a levite of
black velvet, and seemed to me much less imposing
than when he harangued, leaning upon his sword, in
the hall at Castle Garden." Ampere also philoso
phizes upon our American enthusiasm, "the only
lively amusement of the multitude in a country where
one has little to amuse one. It is without conse
quence and without danger, simply to let out the
steam ( a lacker la vapeur), not to cause explosions
but to prevent them."
" The American likes excitement," says Bryce in
go My Day
" The American Commonwealth," " but he is shrewd
and keen ; his passion seldom obscures his reason ; he
keeps his head when a Frenchman, or an Italian, or
even a German, would lose it. Yet he is also of
an excitable temper, with emotions capable of being
quickly and strongly stirred. He likes excitement
for its own sake, and goes wherever he can find it."
The Kossuth episode vividly illustrated this !
Sic transit gloria be it prince or patriot !
My young editor had soon to leave the South Side
Democrat under the care of a foster-father. He was
summoned to Washington lured less by a fine
salary than the larger field to edit with John W.
Forney the Washington Union, then the national
Democratic organ. It was desired that one of the
two editors should be from the South. Mr. Forney
represented the North.
CHAPTER XII
WE had the good fortune to secure pleasant
rooms in the large boarding-house of Mrs.
Tully Wise, sister of Henry A. Wise of
Virginia. Mrs. Wise had a number of agreeable
people in her house: Professor and Mrs. Spenser
Baird of the Smithsonian Institution ; Professor
Baird's assistants, Mr. Turner, an Englishman, and
a Swiss naturalist whom Professor Baird addressed
as " George," Mr. James Heth, Commissioner of
Pensions, and his family; Commodore Pennock and
his wife, sister of Mrs. (Admiral) Farragut, and
others. I must not forget Miss Dick, whose rooms
were above mine, and who hovered around like the
plump, busy little bird that she was. A long table in
the dining-room was filled with" new" people de
sirable possibly , but not known by us. There were the
nouveau riche party from New York, the tall, angular,
large-limbed, fassee young woman and her fat mamma ;
there were the well-groomed government clerk and
his stylish young wife ; a French count, a German
baron ; a physician (Dr. McNalty), and a beautiful
dark-eyed young lady who always wore a camellia
in her dusky hair, Miss well, let her be "Miss
Vernon," with her father. Lesser lights plenty -
a large number in all.
Then Mrs. Wise herself gathered pleasant men
and women around her. In her little parlor we met
91
92 My Day
Dr. Yelverton Garnett, our devoted friend in all his
after life Mrs. Garnett, daughter of Henry A. Wise,
and a charming young sister, Annie Wise. Our
hostess was a widow, well born and good, who was
educating, alone and unaided, five splendid boys, who
lived to reward her by their own worth and success.
We were made thoroughly comfortable, and I soon
learned that the "man behind the gun," to whom it
behooved me to be civil, was the head waiter, Patrick,
tall, black, stern, and unyielding. No use in trying
blandishments on Patrick ! If one were starved,
having overstayed appointed hours, she must fast
until the next meal or find refreshment elsewhere.
I once complained to Mrs. Wise, that I lost the
sweetest hour in the late afternoon for my stroll on
Pennsylvania Avenue ; and represented the perfect
ease with which Patrick could keep my tea for me.
She listened with sympathy to the oft-told tale.
" Well, you know, my dear," she said kindly,
" Patrick now you know Patrick is so good !
There's nobody like Patrick ! He has some trouble,
with all those strangers to serve. I know you would
like to help Patrick ! Yes, to be sure, it would seem
to be a simple thing to set aside a biscuit and bit of
cold tongue for you, and keep the kettle hot on the
hearth, but you see Patrick, well, he is so good,
you'll not have the heart to trouble him ! And dear !
I think you will yourself choose to be indoors early
here in Washington."
The one who was "dear" was Mrs. Wise the
noblest and best of women.
Very soon I found that with all these pieces upon
My Day 93
the board, a lively game might be expected. Miss
Dick, whose brother was employed by the govern
ment, soon enlightened me : the rich New York
girl wanted a title. She was " trying to catch " the
baron, and would succeed, " as nobody else wanted
either of them/' Miss Vernon was dying for love
of Dr. McNalty. She was going into a decline.
Probably the doctor was ignorant of the state of
things. Such a beautiful girl a perfect lady !
Somebody ought to speak to the doctor. She,
(Miss Dick) couldn't. Nobody would listen to an
old maid "perhaps you, Mrs. Pryor " ("Oh,
mercy, no") well, then, poor girl! The French
count was flirting with the wife of the government
clerk. Her husband would find her out, never fear !
There was danger of a hostile meeting before the
winter was over. Then that hateful old Dr. Todkin,
with his straw-colored wig ! To be sure, she and
some others liked the parlors kept dark but what
business had he to say he hoped some lady would
come who " liked the light and could bear the light ! "
Such Dutch impertinence!
I received these confidences of Miss Dick in my
own rooms, for I soon learned, with Mrs. Baird and
Mrs. Heth, that the public drawing-room was no
place for me.
" Gossip ! " said they. " It has gone beyond gossip !
The air is thick with something worse. You might
cut it with a knife."
But it was not long before we had a ripple in our
own calm waters. On one side of me at our round
table sat Mr. George, the eccentric, small, intense
94 My Day
Swiss naturalist, who amused me much by affecting
to be a woman-hater.
" Not that they concern me," he said, " but,
well, I find fishes more interesting. I understand
them better."
Beside my husband was placed our special pet,
Maria Heth, taken under our wing in the absence
of her parents, neither of whom ever appeared.
The circle was completed by Professor and Mrs.
Baird, little Lucy Baird, and Mr. Turner. In course
of time my right-hand man fell into silence, broken
by long-drawn sighs. I supposed he had lost a
"specimen," or failed to find enough bones in some
fish he was to classify, or maybe heard bad news
from home, or belike had a toothache ; so, after a
few essays on my part to encourage him, I let him
alone. Presently his place at the board was vacant.
Things went on in this way until one morning, early,
Maria Heth knocked at my door.
" I am troubled about Mr. George," she said. " I
am sorry to worry you, but I'm afraid there's no
help for it. Mamma is too nervous to hear unpleas
ant things, and I'm afraid of exciting papa."
" Come to the point, Maria ! Mr. George, you
say ! Well, then, what about Mr. George? "
" Well, you know he's been missing nearly a
week. It was no business of mine. I had no dream
/ had anything to do with it. But see what he has
written me ! This comes to you from a broken
hearted man. Forget him! You will meet him
no more on earth. Perhaps yonder! George."
Questioning Maria further, she confessed that on
My Day 95
the day Mr. George disappeared, she received from
him a passionate love-letter. She had answered him
curtly. Yes, she certainly had told him what she
thought of his impertinence. " Of course, I am dis
tressed, but what could I do," said the poor child.
" You know my brother ! Richard would have been
enraged. I had to settle him once for all to save
trouble."
I went immediately to Mrs. Baird with my infor
mation. She, too, had become anxious at the sudden
disappearance of the young naturalist. He had not
been seen at the Institution, and investigation re
vealed the fact that he had not occupied his rooms.
Professor Baird was deeply concerned, and a vigor
ous search was made for the missing man.
Upon returning from my walk that evening, I
found a note on my table from Mrs. Baird. The
runaway had been found. It would be unnecessary
to drag the river or notify the police. He was dis
covered in the upper chamber of an humble lodging-
house, very limp and penitent, but "clothed and in
his right mind." He had not been drinking, he had
not been in the river. I never knew what Professor
Baird did to him pulled him out of bed, very
likely, and shook him into his senses. So we lost
Mr. George (whose surname I dare not reveal),
and he was doubtless mightily strengthened in his
opinion of women not to be understood by him
and not, by any means, comparable to fishes.
Perhaps I should not leave the dramatis persons
of our boarding-house " in the air." Before I left
Mrs. Wise, the baron was safely moored into har-
96 My Day
bor by the tall young lady from New York. The
government clerk had openly insulted the French
count, and it was supposed a challenge had passed
between them. Evidently nothing had come of it.
If they fought, it was a bloodless battle. The
exquisite Miss Vernon had reappeared, thinner,
paler, but radiant and beautiful exceedingly. Miss
Dick was puzzled. Perhaps the girl had " gotten
over it," like a sensible woman. Perhaps she had
not been ill at all only hysterical. It was not
impossible she might have feigned illness " to bring
him around." These were some of the solutions
of the problem that occurred to Miss Dick.
I could have enlightened her. One evening, Dr.
McNalty, whom I knew but slightly, spoke to me
in the hall. He had a soft white parcel in his hand
and seemed embarrassed and agitated. He begged
me to do him a great kindness would I see Miss
Vernon not send a messenger, see her myself and
give her some camellias from him. Possibly there
might be some message from her. He would
await my return.
Would I ? I flew on the wings of hope and
keen interest. I comprehended the situation. Of
course there had been a misunderstanding. Pos
sibly his letters had been returned and unopened.
Only a desperate necessity could have nerved him
to appeal to me almost a stranger. I rose to the
occasion, and when I was admitted to Miss Vernon's
room, I was prepared to be an eloquent advocate,
should circumstances encourage and justify me.
When I returned to Dr. McNalty, I bore a mes-
My Day 97
sage. She had laid the camellias against her lovely
cheek and said, " Tell him his flowers are whisper
ing to me."
I hope my reader will appreciate my reticence in
ending this little story just here. If, as Talley
rand declared, " a man who suppresses a bon mot
deserves canonization," is there no nimbus for the
woman who, for truth's sake, suppresses the denoue
ment of a love story ? The temptation is great to
amplify a little, embroider a little but then I
should have to reckon with my conscience, with the
certainty of being worsted.
As a matter of fact, I know only this of the young
woman I am constrained to call Miss Vernon. Her
true name was one well and honorably known in
history. She was the most beautiful of all dark-
eyed women I have ever known of course the
blue-eyed angels are exceptional and her manners
and attire were as elegant as her person. She wore
rich velvet, then much in vogue, and only one
jewel :
' ' On her fair breast a sparkling cross she wore
Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore."
I never knew the end of the romance in which I
bore a small part. I never even knew of what
whisperings camellias are capable. Had they been
violets or roses, or lilies of the valley but big
white camellias ! I only know she recovered and
that Dr. McNalty thanked me warmly for my
small service. That is all.
CHAPTER XIII
MR. FILLMORE was a fine type of the
kind of man Americans love to raise to the
highest office in their gift. He had not
been a mill boy, nor lived in a log-cabin, nor split
rails (which was to his discredit), but he had been an
apprentice to a wool-carder in Livingston County,
New York. Afterward he had worked in a law
yer's office all day and studied at night. He had
had no patron. He was essentially a self-made
man. When, by the death of President Taylor, he
became President of the United States, he fitted
into the place as if he had made himself expressly
for it.
According to Ampere, who observed us so nar
rowly in 1852, " M. Fillmore avait un cachet de
simplicite digne et bienveillante, qui me semble
faire de lui le type de ce que doit etre un president
Americain."
But nobody said any of those fine things about
dear Mrs. Fillmore. The cachet de simplicite she
certainly possessed, but she wore it with a difference.
In a President it was admirable, in a beautiful
woman it would have been adorable. It stamped
plain, unhandsome, ungraceful Mrs. Fillmore as
ordinary, commonplace. She was the soul of kind
ness. " She has no manner," said a woman of
fashion. "She is absolutely simple. It is not good
98
My Day 99
form to be so motherly to her guests. Why, what
do you think she said to me at the last levee ?
c You look pale and ill, my dear ! Pray find a seat/
Think of that ! Haven't I a right to look pale and
ill, I wonder ! "
" She meant to be kind," I ventured. " Should
she have permitted you to faint on the floor ? "
" Kind, indeed ! It was her duty, if she thought
me c gone off in my looks/ to tell me how well I
was looking ! I should have been all right after
that. As it was, I came straight home and went to
bed."
I fairly revelled in the music I could now hear.
From a famous musician, Mr. Palmer, I took les
sons again. He was a notable character a splendid
musician, and a welcome guest at Mr. Corcoran's
and other houses, where he amused the company
with tricks of legerdemain. He afterward became
the celebrated " Heller," the prince of legerdemain
and clairvoyance. The elder Booth, Hackett, and
Anna Cora Mowatt introduced me to the fascina
tions of the stage. Nothing to my mind had ever
been, could ever be, finer than their Hamlet, Fal-
staff, and Parthenia. The Armstrongs gave me
carte blanche to their box at the theatre, and I saw
everything. I wonder if any one at the present day
remembers the Ravel brothers and their matchless
pantomimes ! Mrs. Baird made a party, taking
little Lucy to see " Jocko." Not a word was
spoken in the play ; not an eye was dry in the
house.
One evening an agreeable Frenchman whom we
TOO My Day
knew joined us in our box, and seeking an oppor
tunity, whispered to me, " Madame, will you grant
me a favor ? There in the parquette, second from
the front, voyes-vous? A lady en chateau bleu? "
" Yes, yes, I see ! Who is' she ? "
" Madame " (tragically), " that demoiselle with
the young man is fiancee to my friend ! "
"And you are perhaps jealous !"
" Ah, mais non> Madame ! I have this moment
said to my friend, c Regardez votre fiancee' He
has responded, c C'esf vrai ! It is custom of this
country/ '
" And what then ? " I asked.
cc Oh ! " shrugging his shoulders in scorn not to
be expressed in words, " I say, ( Eh bien> Emil. If
you satisfy, / very well satisfy ! ' But, pardon,
Madame, is it convenable in this country for demoi
selle to appear at theatre with young gentleman
without chaperon ? "
I found refuge in ignorance : " I am sure I can
not say. You see I am from Virginia. I haven't
been long in Washington, and customs here may
differ from manners in my home."
I was a proud woman when Mr. Pierce sent for
my young editor to read with him his inaugural
address. These were mighty political secrets, not to
be shared with Miss Dick, and thus published to her
little boarding-house world. I felt that I belonged,
not to that nor to any other small world. I belonged
to the nation ; and strange to say, that impression
(or must I say delusion ?) never left me in my darkest,
most obscure days.
My Day 101
Mr. Pierce liked my young editor. We adored
him ! Only since we lost him have we learned of his
many mistakes, vacillation, weakness, unpopularity ;
nothing of these appeared in 1852. He had been a
fine politician, had served his country " with bravery
and credit," enlisting as a private in the Mexican War.
" His integrity was above suspicion, and he was
deeply religious." It is quite certain he did not
desire the nomination. There was nobody in his
family to exult over his promotion, no son, no
daughter to blossom with new beauty because of the
splendid stem on which she grew. Only a sick,
broken-hearted wife, too feeble to endure the exactions
of social life, too sad to take part in anything out
side her own room. She did not even attempt it.
It was at once understood that our republican court
was such only in name. In name only did Mrs.
Pierce appear in its annals. I never saw her. I
never saw any one who had seen her. We thought
of her as a Mater Dolorosa, shrouded in deepest
mourning, and we gave her a sacred place in our hearts.
I cannot close my records of this, my earliest ex
perience of Washington life, without remembering
with gratitude all I owe to the friendship and wisdom
of the discreet, cultured women who felt an early
interest in me, guiding and instructing me. Mrs.
Spenser Baird, Mrs. Garnett (#<?<? Wise), lovely Annie
Wise, and Maria Heth, these were my intimate friends.
Mrs. Garnett, a lovely Christian woman, watched me
closely and restrained me in my natural desire for
beautiful raiment. I once confessed to her, almost
with tears, that Leonide Delarue had beguiled me
102 My Day
into giving forty dollars for a bonnet, whereupon she
produced pencil and paper and proved that the material
(exclusive of a bit of superfluous point-lace) could be
obtained for ten dollars. The young English queen,
it was said, could make her own bonnets. But I could
not succeed as a milliner. I had some talent, but not
in that line. However, that I might please and sur
prise Mrs. Garnett and also imitate the Queen, when
the time came for me to indulge myself in a winter
bonnet (we did not call them hats they weren't
hats !), I essayed the "creation" of one with velvet,
satin, and feathers galore. It was a dreadful failure!
I took it to Madame Delarue's and begged her to
tell me what ailed it.
" Mon Dieu ! " she exclaimed, throwing up her
hands in despair, " pesante"
I gave away my " creation " to somebody in my
service anybody who would condescend to accept it.
Mrs. Garnett felt I could hardly afford to try again.
She knew, however, how important to me as a young
politician's wife would be the virtue of economy.
It is not written in the stars that an honest politician
can ever be rich. A great evening reception was to
be given by some magnate at which my young editor
consented to be present. He secretly visited Harper's
fine store and brought home a lovely " bertha " for
me made of three rows of point-lace. I gasped ! But
I was prudent. I accepted it with apparent pleasure,
went to Harper's, found it had been charged, and
effected its return. But here was a dilemma. I
was to attend the reception. I was to wear evening
dress and a beautiful " bertha."
My Day 103
" Have you not imitation lace?*' I inquired.
Harper had, and the imitation was good, the
price of plenty of it ten dollars. I guiltily made the
exchange, took a searching look at my model, and
perfectly copied it.
That evening, brave in my counterfeit presentment
I stood under a blaze of light with my intimates, Mrs.
Clay, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and others around me. My
editor approached and was complimented upon my
appearance. "Ah, but, " he said, in the pride of his
young heart, "if I can only keep it up ! Why, Mrs.
Clay, that bit of lace cost me hundreds of dollars ! "
I caught the wondering eyes of my fully instructed
friends, gave them an imploring glance and when
the boastful young fellow departed, told them my
story. They said I was a very silly woman.
Mr. Fillmore's tastes had been sufficiently ripened
to enable him to gather around him men of literary
taste and attainment. John P. Kennedy, a man of
elegant accomplishments, was Secretary of the Navy.
Washington Irving was often Mr. Kennedy's guest.
We knew these men, and among them none was
brighter, wittier, or more genial than G. P. R. James,
the English novelist whose star rose and set before
1860. He was the most prolific of writers, " Like
an endless chain of buckets in a well," said one ;
"as fast as one is emptied, up comes another."
We were very fond of Mr. James. One day he
dashed in, much excited :
" Have you seen the Intelligencer? By George,
it's all true ! Six times has my hero, a ( solitary
104 My Day
horseman/ emerged from a wood ! My word !
I was totally unconscious of it ! Fancy it ! Six
times ! Well, it's all up with that fellow. He has
got to dismount and enter on foot a beggar, or
burglar, or pedler, or at best a mendicant friar."
" But," suggested one," he might drive, mightn't
he ? "
" Impossible ! " said Mr. James. " Imagine a hero
in a gig or a curricle ! "
" Perhaps," said one, " the word c solitary ' has
given offence. Americans dislike exclusiveness.
They are sensitive, you see, and look out for
snobs."
He made himself very merry over it ; but the soli
tary horseman appeared no more in the few novels
he was yet to write.
One day, after a pleasant visit from Mr. James
and his wife, I accompanied them at parting to the
front door, and found some difficulty in turning the
bolt. He offered to assist, but I said no he was
not supposed to understand the mystery of an
American front door.
Having occasion a few minutes afterward to open
the door for another departing guest, there on his
knees outside was Mr. James, who laughingly ex
plained that he had left his wife at the corner, and
had come back to investigate that mystery. " Per
haps you will tell me," he added, and was much
amused to learn that the American door opened of
itself to an incoming guest, but positively refused,
without coaxing, to let him out. "By George, that's
fine ! " he said, " that'll please the critics in my
My Day . 105
next." I never knew whether it was admitted, for
I must confess that, even with the stimulus of his
presence, his books were dreary reading to my un-
instructed taste.
A very lovely and charming actress was promi
nent in Washington society at this time, the
daughter of an old New York family, Anna Cora
(Ogden) Mowatt. She was especially interesting to
Virginians, for she had captivated Foushee Ritchie,
soon afterward my husband's partner on the editor
ship of the Richmond Enquirer. Mr. Ritchie, a con
firmed old bachelor, had been fascinated by Mrs.
Mowatt's Parthenia (in "Ingomar" ), and was now
engaged to her. He proudly brought to me a pair
of velvet slippers she had embroidered for him,
working around them as a border a quotation from
" Ingomar" :
" Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one."
CHAPTER XIV
I WAS peacefully enjoying a cup of tea with
Mrs. Arnold Harris, when her father, old
General Armstrong, entered, and brought me
the astounding news that my husband had resigned
his position as editor of the Washington Union.
" Oh, that boy ! He thinks he knows more about
foreign politics than I do."
I was very fond of the General, who had always
treated me in a fatherly and most kind manner.
But of course I could not hear my husband dis
cussed, even by him, so I expressed polite regrets and
hastened home. It was too true! The junior part
ner had published in the Union a very strong
article, taking the part of Russia in the Crimean War,
and General Armstrong had wished him to disavow
it "upon further consideration." He had refused,
and declared he must write according to his con
victions or not at all. The matter might possibly
have been adjusted, had not the General, with more
zeal than discretion, remonstrated with him upon the
ground that he should " think twice before giving up
a large salary."
There is a very ugly word in the English language
of which I, as a child, stood in mortal fear. I had
then never read that word anywhere except in the
Bible or my Catechism. I had never heard it ex
cept in the pulpit. I had an idea that the devil, in
106
My Day 107
whose personality I believed, but of whom I had
never thought enough to be afraid, might appear at
any moment in connection with that inviting word,
if uttered out of church.
Only lately has it been shorn of its terrors by
being left out root and branch in the revision of the
Bible. Now, although offensive to ears polite, it is
no longer supposed to imperil the safety of the soul.
Unless refined taste forbids, it may in seasons of
peculiar vexation of spirit a lacker la vapeur be
applied to things inanimate : to a " spot " that will
not "out," to tiresome " iteration," to " faint praise,"
or, on general principles, suitably preface the pro
noun " it," but never to living individuals ! That
would be uncivil to a degree highly imprudent,
and likely to result unpleasantly. There can be no
doubt of the fact that it contains certain mysterious
elements of relief and comfort, else why its frequent
use by men and not infrequent use by some women?
At the time of which I am writing it was to me still
a desperate word of evil source and evil omen. Even
now the cells of my brain respond with a shudder
when I hear it.
You can then imagine the shock I sustained when
I learned my husband's reply to the good old Gen
eral's overture.
"What did you say?" I had sternly demanded.
" Well, if you will have it I said, ( damn the
money ! '
We did not leave Washington immediately. My
editor knew he could make good his position in re
gard to Russia in her quarrel with England, and
io8 My Day
Mr. Gales offered him the columns of the National
Intelligencer for that purpose. He wrote a long
and able defence of Russia. Caleb Gushing met
him afterward and congratulated him on an article
which was, he said, " unanswered and unanswerable."
He was fascinated with editorial life, immediately
bought an interest in the Richmond Enquirer, and
became co-editor with William F. Ritchie. We
had inaugurated President Pierce, whose friend
ship promised much. I had made charming friends
in Washington, Mrs. Gales and Mrs. Seaton,
Mrs. Crittenden, beautiful Adele Cutts (afterward
Mrs. Douglas), Mrs. "Clem" Clay, and other
charming wives of the representatives in Congress.
But I was not sorry to leave the city. My dear
Blue Mountains were awaiting me. For years I
could never return to them without a swelling heart.
I was going back for a long visit to my aunt and the
baby girl I had lent her (to keep her own dear heart
from breaking when I left her), and I had a splendid
boy to show my friends in Charlottes ville the old
people only for all my confreres had married and
taken wing.
It was not long before Mr. Pierce sent my hus
band on a special mission to Greece. I could not
accompany him. I could not travel with my babies
there were now three nor could I leave them
with my delicate aunt. I went with him as far as
Washington, where we spent one day and night. A
dinner had been arranged to witness the unfolding
of a superb specimen of the Agave Americana, sup
posed to be over fifty years old, and which now, for
My Day 109
the first time in the memory of the present genera
tion, had suddenly thrown up a great stalk crowned
with a bud nearly a foot long.
We did not attend the dinner, but at midnight,
upon answering a knock at the door, there stood a
man bearing in his arms the splendid flower. A
thick fringe of narrow, pure white petals formed a
rosette, and from the centre rose a plume of golden
stamens. I was resolved this midnight beauty
should not discover the dawn which signals the closing
of its petals, so I placed it in the ample fireplace,
made a framework of canes, parasols, and umbrellas
around it and covered the whole with a blanket. In
the morning I peeped in. It presented a tightly
twisted spike, having entered upon another long
sleep of fifty years, more or less. It was this flower
that my husband, with outrageous American boast
ing, described to Queen Mathilde of Greece as an
ordinary floral production of this country, not to
be confounded with the commonplace night-bloom
ing Cereus, and fired an ambition in her soul that
could hardly have been gratified.
While my husband was absent on his mission,
President Pierce spent one day in Charlottesville to
visit the tomb and home of Jefferson, the father of
his political party. We were then at my aunt's
country place, and the President wrote to me regret
ting he could not go out to see me, and inviting me
to spend the one evening of his stay with him and
a few friends at his hotel.
I had a delightful evening. He expressed the
warmest friendship for the young ambassador to
no My Day
Greece, and presented me with two beautiful books,
bound sumptuously in green morocco and inscribed
in his own fine handwriting, from my " friend Frank
lin Pierce/' Those valued books were taken from
me when our house was sacked in 1865. They
possibly exist somewhere ! certainly in the grateful
memory of their first owner.
The President had the courtesy to express pleas
ure in my piano playing. I made him listen to
Thalberg's " La Straniera," Henselt's " Gondola," and
" L'Elisir d' Amour " ; and I left him with an impres
sion that has never been lost, of his kindness of
heart, his captivating voice and manner.
My husband's letters from Greece and from
Egypt were extremely interesting, and I preserved
them for publication in book form. Alas ! they,
too, were lost in 1865. Unable to encumber myself
when I fled before the bullets in 1865, I sent my
little son back under cover of night to draw the box
containing them to some safe place away from
the buildings and burn them. Thus I lost all
records of our active life in Virginia before the eve
of surrender, except those preserved in the files of
Northern papers.
Passage was taken in the Pacific for my husband's
return, and I went down to Petersburg that I might
be with his family to meet him. The Pacific was
long overdue before we would acknowledge to each
other that we were anxious, I can hear now, as
then, cries of the newsboys, " Here's the New
York Herald^ and no news of the Pacific" repeating
like a knell of despair, as they ran down the streets,
My Day in
" No news of the Pacific ! No news of the Pacific I "
At last, when the strain was almost unbearable, my
father. Dr. Pryor, ran home with the paper in his
hand : " A printed list of the passengers, my
dear ! Roger's name is not among them ! "
It had pleased God to deliver him. He had
taken passage on the Pacific and sent his baggage
ahead of him. When he reached Marseilles, he
found his trunks and packages had been opened,
a discourtesy to an ambassador, and he remained
a few days to obtain redress, allowing the Pacific to
sail without him. That ill-starred steamer never
reached home. The story of her fate is held where
so many secrets, so many treasures lie in the
bosom of the great deep.
I have told elsewhere something of my husband's
residence at Athens. It suffices to state here that
he accomplished the object of his mission to the
satisfaction of his government, and to his own
pleasure and profit. He brought me many beauti
ful pictures and carvings for the home we now made
in Richmond, to say nothing of corals, amber,
mosaics, curios, and antiques, silks, laces, velvets,
perfumes, etc., to my great content. Soon after his
return, the President offered him the mission to
Persia, which he declined. We found a pleasant
house in Richmond, with ample grounds on either
side for the flowers I adored. There we set up
our Lares and Penates happy housekeepers,
intent on hospitality.
The great day arrived for our first large dinner
party. Although only men were present, they were
ii2 My Day
friends and neighbors, and I presided ; with my
courtly uncle, Dr. Thomas Atkinson, at my right
hand. We furnished our dinners from our own
kitchens in Richmond. In every respect so my
uncle assured me my first venture was a success.
Soup, fish, roast, game, and salad with the perfec
tion of chill demanded by a self-respecting salad.
Presently I saw one of the waiters whisper to the
host, and an expression of alarm pass over his
face. The bread had " given out " ! I had not
imagined the enormous consumption of bread of
which a wine-bibber could be capable. Passing
around to the head of the table, the dire story was
repeated to me, and it was well I had a physician at
my right hand! Utter collapse threatened his
young hostess. As to the young host, he rose
nobly to the occasion. " Ah ! no bread ! Then we
must eat cake ! " Thenceforth at all our dinners a
skeleton entered our closet if an empty bread-
tray might be dignified into a skeleton. At every
dinner and supper we gave, my husband stood in
mortal terror lest the bread should give out as
it really did in very truth not many years later.
I was very fond of a little factotum of my cook,
whom I promoted from the kitchen to my personal
service. As no bell or knocker could reach the ear
in the regions allotted the servants, George was in
vested in white linen, and with a primer for his en
tertainment and culture was stationed at the door
during visiting hours. He found it difficult to
keep awake. My French teacher would throw up
his hands when he passed out, "Mon Dieu ! Comme
My Day 113
il dorme /" If you have ever seen Valentine's bust
of the Nation's Ward, you have seen George ;
asleep, with his head on his bosom and his spelling-
book on the floor. He was of a blackness not to be
illustrated by the ace of spades, a crow's wing, or
any other sable bird or object, and this circumstance,
enhancing the purity of his white linen, made him
an attractive and interesting object. George had
no imagination. He was nothing if not literal. At
one time ice was scarce in Richmond. The water
of the James was a rich old-gold color from the mud
of the red-clay regions through which some of its
tributaries ran, but it was considered wholesome.
We filtered it for drinking and for tea through a
great Vesuvius stone. Some of the old residents
were wont to declare they preferred it to the clear
water of the springs, several of which were in the
parks of the city, complaining that the spring
water " lacked body." At the time of the ice
famine we filled tubs with this cool, muddy water,
and in it kept our bottles of milk. George once
brought for my admiration some fine lettuce the
cook had bought from a cart.
" Put it in water ! " I ordered. Soon afterwards,
he entered with several bottles of milk which I
also told him to " put in water." What was my
dismay when the cook rushed to my room in great
heat : -
Cf I knowed that fool nigger would give you
trouble ! "
" Why, what's the poor child done ? "
"Po' chile! Little devil, / call him! He's
114 My Day
done po'ed out all the baby's milk in that yaller
water, and seasoned it with lettuce leaves ! "
We found the society of Richmond delightful.
Southern society has often been described, its mem
bers praised or blamed, criticised or admired, ac
cording to the point of view ; sometimes commended
as "stately but condescending, haughty but jovial,''
possessing high self-appreciation, not often indulg
ing in distasteful egotism ; fast friends, generous,
hospitable ; considering conversation an art to be
studied, and fitting themselves with just so much
knowledge of literature, science, and art, as might be
indispensable for conversation ; but withal " cul
tured, educated men of the world who would meet
any visitor on his own favorite ground."
Richmond society has always claimed a certain
seclusiveness for itself not Delusiveness for no
body properly introduced could visit Richmond
without having a dinner or evening party given in
his honor. "Taken in?" -of course the enter
tainers were sometimes "taken in"! That did
not signify once in a while.
I remember a portly dame with two showy
daughters, always handsomely attired, who man
aged, at some watering-place, to find favor in the
eyes of one of our citizens and obtained an invita
tion, which was eagerly accepted, to make him a
visit. An evening party was given to introduce
them. I had my doubts after a conversation with
Madame Mere and expressed them, to the disgust
of one of my friends. " Impossible," she said,
coolly. After they left, Mr. Price, our leading
My Day 115
merchant, presented a large bill for female fineries
with which he had unhesitatingly credited Madame,
who had departed with her daughters to parts un
known. It was promptly, and without a grimace,
paid by their deluded host. I could remember the
sweetly apologetic way in which Madame had told
me she feared her " girls were a bit overdressed for
the small functions in Richmond. In New York,
now ! But here, of course, there need be no such
display as in New York ! "
No amusement, except an occasional song from
an obliging guest, was provided for our evening
parties. Conversation and a good supper, with the
one-and-only Pizzini to the fore this was induce
ment enough. Not quite as spirituelle as Lady
Morgan, we required something more than a lump
of sugar to clear the voice. And Pizzini's suppers !
His pyramids of glace oranges, " non pareil" and
spun sugar; his ices, his wine jellies, his blanc
manges and, ye gods ! his terrapin, pickled oysters,
and chicken salad ! We assembled not much later
than nine, and remained as long as it pleased us.
Sometimes we acted " The Honeymoon," or some
other little play ; Anna Cora Mowatt (Mrs. Ritchie)
gave charming tableaux, with recitations ; but usually
we talked and talked and talked ! "Art of conver
sation ? " I suspect art has nothing to do with
conversation. When it becomes art, it ceases to
be conversation. We did not gossip, either. Per
sonalities were quite, quite out of the question.
Our hosts knew to perfection the art of entertaining.
Sometime in the fifties, Charles Astor Bristed
n6 My Day
wrote his book, entitled, " The Upper Ten Thou
sand of New York." It appears the world was
waiting for some such work. The theme rippled
from shore to shore, until within the past few years
it seems to have expired with the myth of the Four
Hundred. N. P. Willis (wasn't he a bit of a snob
himself?) caught with avidity the new departure
in Mr. Bristed's book, and eternally harped upon
it. From 1852 until the war, and afterward, until
the subsidence of the Four Hundred ripple, we
have heard a great deal about classes, society ;
and finally, American manners came to the fore as a
subject of journalistic interest. "American man
ners ! Are they improving in grace or dignity ? "
The question was put to a number of men and
women whose experience and frankness could be
relied upon. The answers, except for one, were
vague and cautious. Nobody likes to appear as a
satirist or cynic and yet nobody is willing to ac
knowledge that he knows nothing better than what
appears at present to be the standard of good breed
ing, by comparison with the standard twenty or
more years ago.
The one honest man revealed by the lamp-light
of the inquiring editor remembered the chapter al
lotted to a contributor in the preparation of " a his
tory of Ireland." The subject of the chapter was
dictated "The Snakes of Ireland" -and it ap
peared with that heading. It was brief and to the
point "There are no Snakes in Ireland."
" American manners ? " answered the one honest
man ; " there aren't any."
My Day 117
" American manners," said George William Curtis,
"where do you find them? If high society be the
general intercourse of the highest intelligence with
which we converse, the festival of Wit and Beauty
and Wisdom, we do not find it at Newport. Fine
society is a fruit that ripens slowly. We Americans
fancy we can buy it."
Foreigners have never ceased to comment upon
American manners. The subject in the fifties
seems to have been of inexhaustible interest.
"There's no use," said Max O'Rell, "in forever
gazing at the Upper Ten Thousand. They are
alike all over the world. It is the million that
differ and are interesting." Marion Crawford said :
" The Upper Ten can never fraternize with artists,
poets, and inventors. These take no account of
wealth or of any position not won by absolute genius
or merit, treating such position, indeed, with ill-con
cealed contempt."
Thackeray liked to be agreeable to the people who
made his lectures profitable, but he complains of the
" uncommon splendatiousness " of Americans. " But
I haven't been in Society yet," he wrote, in 1852; " I
haven't met the Upper Ten." Another English
writer went farther much farther but we forbear.
Now these harsh judgments were exclusively of
manners in New York, Newport, and Washington.
No Curtis, Bristed, or Willis ever, to my knowledge,
visited Richmond. Thackeray, Max O'Rell, and
Ampere never thought us worth while so our
delightful small society, which had ripened slowly
and took no account of wealth, and which could
ii8 My Day
really have furnished a modicum of " Wit, beauty,
and Wisdom" for Curtis's " festival," was unrepre
sented. As to the criticisms of our elder brother
across the water, as long as he sends his sons to
America to find the mothers of the future peers of
his realm, the edge is blunted of his strictures upon
American society and manners.
CHAPTER XV
WILLIAM WALKER, the "Grey-eyed
Man of Destiny," who was in 1854 more
talked about than any other man in the
country, was our guest for several days in Richmond.
Whether he came to accept a dinner given him by
the city, or whether the dinner was the result of the
visit, I cannot remember. Although we knew him
to be an interesting character, we were unprepared
for the throng that filled our house every day while
he was with us. Beginning early in the day, they
poured in until night, and remained, spellbound by
the magnetism of this wonderful man. As we could
not invite them to leave for the three o'clock dinner
(the dinner-hour in Virginia varied then to suit indi
vidual convenience), I took counsel of my blessed old
negro cook, and following her advice, I spread a table
every day with cold dishes, tongue, ham, chickens,
birds, salads, etc., to which all were made welcome.
The sideboard ably supplemented this informal meal.
Old Madeira could be had in those days, and in
lieu of the cocktail of the present time, we brewed
an appetizer, crowned with " the herb that grows on
the grave of good Virginians."
The Richmond market was insufficient for sud
den demands. We depended largely upon the
small, covered country carts, intercepting them as
they passed on their way to the grocers', who bartered
119
Uo My Day
things dry and liquid for the farmers' poultry, eggs,
and butter. At this time of my distress, no carts
hove in sight, but I knew a grocer with a noble soul,
one Mark Downey, to whom I made a personal
appeal, and he promised to send me, daily, every
thing he could gather, from a roasting pig to a
reed-bird. My good cook rose to the occasion:
"Ain't that Gin'al gone yet?" was her morning
salutation, hastily adding, " Nem-mine, honey ! We-
all kin git along."
In some of the biographical sketches of William
Walker I find him painted as little better in fact,
no better than a pirate; a man of an unbounded
stomach for power and place, regarding as nothing
life, property, or his own word, and finally, justly for
saken and punished. Others present him to pos
terity as a scholar, an author, a graduate of colleges,
a student at Heidelberg, also a hero of the first water,
brave beyond compare ; a maker of republics, states
man, dictator, in all things fearless and dashing.
When I turn to the storehouse of my own memory, I
find a modest, courtly gentleman, with a strong but
not ungentle face :
"The mildest mannered man
That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat."
Of course I could not appear in the crowd that
hung upon his lips all day, but when we gathered
around the evening lamp he was never too weary to
talk to me but not about his conquests nor his
ambitions. For a woman's ear he had gentler themes
than these.
WILLIAM WALKER.
My Day 121
One night I startled my husband by asking,
" What church do you belong to, General ? "
" I have recently become a Catholic/' he answered
gravely ; " it is the faith for a man like me ! I have
seen the poor wounded fellows die with great serenity
after the ministration of their priest/*
I recall a striking remark by the General to my
husband. He said men are commonly equally cou
rageous, the difference between them being that one
man, from keener sensibility, sees a danger of which
another is stolidly insensible. The former is really
courageous, while the latter is indifferent from lack
of apprehension. Himself incapable of fear, a higher
authority on the subject cannot be imagined.
When he took leave of us, he gave me a perfect
ambrotype picture of himself, probably the only gen
uine one extant. <c Here I am, Madam, and I've
always been called an ugly fellow." I ventured the
usual deprecatory remark, but he shook his head :
" I'm afraid there's no doubt about it ! On my
way here I heard a man close to my car-window sing
out, c Whar's the Gray-eyed Man of Destiny ? ' As
he was close to me, I leaned out and said in a low
tone, c Here, my friend ! ' f Friend nothin,' he
sneered ; c an' you'd better take in your ugly mug.' '
He looked back from the carriage that took him
to the depot and answered my waving handker
chief: " Good-by, good-by, dear lady ! I'm going
to make Nicaragua a nice place, fit for you ! "
Just as we were about to engage in our own life-
and-death struggle, we heard he had been betrayed,
as Napoleon was betrayed, by the English, to whom,
122 My Day
after defeat, he had fled for protection, and had met
his death bravely.
His dream had been to win Nicaragua, as Houston
had won Texas, and then annex it to the United
States, thus strengthening the power of the South.
I have been told that many superstitions and leg
ends have sprung up in Nicaragua and Honduras to
cluster around the memory of William Walker, but
in none is there a firmer belief than that his ghost
appears on the anniversary of his death, and will so
appear until he is avenged. A Tennessee boy,
William G. Erwin, now helping to superintend the
digging of the Panama Canal, has told the legend,
in Senator Taylor's magazine, from which I select
a few verses :
" One night each year in Honduras, they clear the roads for his
ghost,
Their long dead Gringo President who rides with his phantom
host.
He sweeps o'er the land in silence and the cowering natives hide.
From the Wraith of William Walker who haunts the land
where he died.
" Thus it was the wild tale started that when dying on the sand,
Walker smiled and sternly told them, 'Till avenged I'll haunt
your land ! '
And now on snow-white stallion once a year at midnight's spell,
Across the land from sea to sea rides the form that all know well.
" His head is high, his blade is bare, his white steed spurns the
ground,
A phantom troop charge close behind but all make never a
sound ;
While his blood cries yet for vengeance against this murderous
herd-
He will ever come to warn them, that the day is but deferred.
My Day 123
"To the sons of old Honduras as they view him through the
gloom,
The Gray-eyed Man of Destiny looks the Avatar of Doom ;
In his face they read a warning like the writing on the wall,
'Tis, * Beware, one day the Gringos will avenge their chief
tain' 's fall >' "
My husband entered with great zeal and efficiency
into the fight against " The Know-nothing party/'
or, as they proudly styled themselves, the "American
party."
The principles of this party were naturally evolved
from the fact that the ignorant foreign vote was in
fluencing elections a in the cities, that votes were
freely sold, and that drunken aliens frequently had
charge of the polls. The mythical order of Wash
ington in a time of peculiar danger was remembered :
" Put none but Americans on guard to-night ! "
It seemed reasonable and fitting that Americans,
who had won this country from the savage, and
fought all its early battles with the French and Eng
lish, should govern the country they had redeemed.
One thing led to another, until it was resolved to
form a secret society, with the view of excluding all
foreigners and many Roman Catholics from any part
in the councils of the nation.
This, briefly, seems to have been at the root of
the great Know-nothing movement. The imme
diate and practical aim in view was that foreigners
and Catholics should be excluded from all national,
state, county, and municipal offices ; that strenuous
efforts should be made to change the naturalization
1 History of James Ford Rhodes, passim.
124 My Day
laws, so that the immigrant could not become a
citizen until a resident of twenty-one years in this
country. My husband at once perceived the perni
cious tendency of the movement, which was sweeping
the Northern states with resistless force. Secret
lodges were formed everywhere, secret ceremonies
inaugurated grip? passwords, and signs. The
country was in a ferment of excitement, followed by
outrageous lawlessness. Bands of women made raids
on bar-rooms and smashed the glasses, broke the
casks, and poured the liquor into the streets. Our
one exemplar of similar enterprises should have lived
in those days ! Garrison burned the Constitution of
the United States at an open-air meeting in Fram-
ingham, Massachusetts ; and the crowd, in spite of a
few hisses, shouted " Amen. " A mob broke into the
enclosure around the Washington Monument, and
broke the beautiful block of marble from the Temple
of Concord at Rome, which had been sent by the
pope as a tribute to Washington. A street preacher,
styling himself the Angel Gabriel, incited a crowd at
Chelsea, Massachusetts, to deeds of violence. They
smashed the windows of the Catholic church, tore the
cross from the gable a-nd shivered it to atoms. These
were only a few of the outrages growing out of the
excitement engendered by the Know-nothing party.
The Enquirer always claimed the credit of unearth
ing and exposing the signals, passwords, and cere
monies of the society. "I don't know" was one of
the answers to the " grip" when brother met brother,
and hence the popular name of the organization.
Though Virginia had but few Catholics and few
My Day 125
immigrants, yet, upon principle, she withstood and
stayed the Know-nothing torrent that had hitherto
swept over every other state.
Party feeling ran high during the election of a
Virginia governor, and the junior editor of the En
quirer bore his part boldly and with vigor. For the
first few years of his editorial life he devoted himself
to study, confining himself closely to his office. A
contemporary writer says of him : " Pryor evidently
studied the highest standards in his reading, and his
editorials were a revelation of strength and purity
in classic English. It was impossible, however, for
a man of his tastes and force not to drift into politics
outside of the sanctum of his paper, and the public
soon recognized him as one of the ablest and most
eloquent speakers upon the hustings and in the bitter
discussions that marked the proceedings of every
gathering of the people in those years. In the
mutterings and threatenings of the storm that was
soon to break in fury upon a hitherto peaceful and
peace-loving land, he found abundant opportunity
for the cultivation and display of those rare powers
of oratory in debate which subsequently forced him
to the front of the forum." l I can only add to this
tribute from a candid historian of the time one
observation the success was great : the memory of
it sweet, but it was bought with a price ! The stern
price of unremitting labor and self-abnegation.
It was a terrible time in Virginia. Henry A. Wise
was the Anti-Know-nothing candidate for governor,
and hard and valiant was the fight my husband made
1 Claiborne's " Seventy Years in Virginia."
126 My Day
for his election. It involved him in two duels not
bloodless, but, thank God, not fatal. It is unneces
sary to allude to my own fearful anxiety. It will be
understood by all women who, like myself, have been
and are sufferers from the false standard demanded
by the cc code of honor, " in countries where, to
ignore it, would mean ruin and disgrace. We were
most devoted adherents of Mr. Wise, and ready to
go to the death in his defence, standing as he did in
the front, as we believed, of the battle for right,
justice, and humanity. Finally, he was triumphantly
elected, the pestilent society quenched, and com
parative peace for a brief period reigned in Virginia.
The Democratic party was grateful for my
husband's hard work, and gave him a beautiful
service of silver, inscribed with the appreciation of
theparty for his "brilliant talents, eminentworth, and
distinguished service."
Not long afterward he became the editor of
The Richmond South, for which I had the honor to
select a motto " Unum et commune periclum una
salus." Perhaps a pen picture of my " Harry Hot
spur/' as he was called, may amuse those whose kind
eyes follow his venerable figure as it passes to-day.
" The day after our arrival at the Red Sweet Springs
we noticed among a crowd of gentlemen a face which
strikingly contrasted with the faces around him. He
was a slight figure, with a set of features remarkable
for their intellectual cast ; a profusion of dark hair
falling from his brow in long, straight masses over the
collar of his coat gave a student-like air to his whole
appearance. We unconsciously rose to our feet on
My Day 127
hearing his name, and found ourselves in the actual
presence of the far-famed editor of the South and in
such close vicinity, too! Why, our awe increased
almost to trepidation ; we felt as if locked in a vault
full of inflammable gas, likely to explode with the first
light introduced into it. Indeed, five minutes wore
away in preliminary explanations before we could be
brought to identify the youthful person before us
who might pass for a student of divinity or a young
professor of moral philosophy with the fiery and
impetuous editor of the Richmond South. He is,
we believe, considered one of the ablest political
writers in all the South, and his articles were said to
be highly influential in the late party controversy.
For ourselves we regard with admiration," etc. " His
young family cannot fail to create an immediate in
terest in the eyes of the most casual observer. . . .
And then his beautiful, noble-looking children ; they
might serve as models for infant Apollos, such as
Thorwaldsen or Flaxman might have prayed for."
They were lovely my boys my three little
boys !
CHAPTER XVI
ABIT of paper, yellow and crumbling from
age, has recently been sent to me by the son
of an old Charlottesville friend. The tiny
scrap has survived the vicissitudes of fifty-one years,
and because of the changes it has seen and the dan
gers it has passed, if for nothing more, it deserves
preservation. It marks an important era in our life,
although it contains only this :
" CHARLOTTESVILLE, July i, 1858.
" DEAR MRS. COCHRAN :
" May I have your receipt for brandy-peaches ? You
know Roger is speaking all over the country, trying to win
votes for a seat in Congress. I'm not sure he will be
elected but I am sure he will like some brandy-peaches !
If he is successful, they will enhance the glory of victory
if he is defeated, they will help to console him.
" Affectionately,
" S. A. PRYOR."
In this campaign my husband established his repu
tation as an orator. He was canvassing the dis
trict of his kinsman, John Randolph of Roanoke, and
old men who heard his speeches did not hesitate to
declare him the equal of the eccentric but eloquent
Randolph. I always like to quote directly from the
journals of the day, I like my countrymen to tell
my story, and happily, although I lost all memo-
128
My Day 129
randa, some old men have written since the war of
the noted Virginians whom they knew in the fifties.
One from a North Carolina paper I have preserved,
but lost the precise date.
" The late Rev. Thos. G. Lowe, of Halifax, was
the greatest natural orator North Carolina ever pro
duced. He was silver-tongued and golden-mouthed,
a cross between Chrysostom and Fenelon. He was,
besides, a very earnest Whig in his politics. On one
occasion, in 1860, we knew him to go from Halifax
to Henderson, a distance of some sixty miles, to hear
Pryor speak. We asked him what he thought of
the Virginian. His reply was, c You think I didn't
stand up in a hot sun three mortal hours just to
hear him abuse my party? He is wonderful, with
the finest vocabulary I have ever known/ Charles
Bruce, Esq., of Charlotte, Virginia, told us, in 1870,
that when Pryor spoke at Charlotte Court House, he
saw elderly gentlemen who had ridden forty miles in
their carriages to hear him, and who said to each
other, after the great orator had concluded his mas
terly effort, ( We have had no such speaking in
Virginia since John Randolph's day/ "
Another from the old district writes, July 9,
1891 :
" Of all the men I ever heard speak, Pryor made the
strongest impression on me. Young, enthusiastic, brilliant ;
with a not unbecoming faith in a capacity of high order, he
might reasonably have aspired to the loftiest dignities. He
was a born orator ; thorough master of those rare persuasive
powers that captivate and lead multitudes. His figure was
erect and finely proportioned, his gestures easy and graceful,
130 My Day
his features mobile and expressive of every shade of emotion.
But the charm of his oratory lay in his wonderfully organ
ized vocal apparatus, which he played upon with the skill
of a musical expert. No speaker of the present time can
claim to rival him in the easy flow of rhetoric that sparkled
through his harmoniously balanced periods, except, probably,
Senator Daniel. While listening to him, the Richard Henry
Lee of Wirt's graphic portraiture seemed to move and
speak in every tone and gesture."
Another for the Richmond Times-Democrat of No
vember 2, 1902, writes :
u A famous orator of the antebellum period was Roger
A. Pryor, who still survives. He had a poetic imagina
tion, which is the basis of all true oratory. His vocabu
lary, though florid, was superb, and kept company with
the airy creatures of his exuberant imagination. He rarely
spoke but to evolve a beautiful figure, and in his political
campaigns for Congress, in the now Fourth Virginia dis
trict, he frequently soared above the comprehension of his
audience, whose reading was limited. He combined a
logical mind with his poetic fancy, and the effect and prod
uct of his thought were striking and impressive, illustrat
ing the aphorism that the poet always sees most deeply into
human nature. Pryor had the face, the figure, the dra
matic air, the attitude, and the vocabulary. When we saw
him last summer at the White Sulphur, he looked the grave
and dignified jurist, in contrast with the typical politician
and editor of the fire-eating school of fifty years ago."
While all these fine speeches were delighting our
Democratic friends, I was very happy with my dear
aunt at her country place, Rock Hill, near Char-
lottesville. There my dear son Roger was born
My Day 131
now my only son. The house, like a small Swiss
chalet, was perched lightly on the side of an eleva
tion that well deserved its name. From the crest
of the hill there was a noble view of the Blue Moun
tains, and of sunsets indescribable. To the little
boy and girl who spent their childhood at this place
it soon became enchanted ground. A quarry, from
which stone had been taken for building the house,
was the cave of Bunyan's giants, Pope and Pagan,
who " hailed the Christians as they passed, saying,
( Turn in hither ' " ; two crayfish that lived in the
great spring under the Druidical oaks were the
genii of the fountain ; the corn-field was a mighty
forest to be entered with fear because of the Indians
and wild beasts therein.
These two children, Gordon and her brother,
Theodorick, fourteen months younger, were blessed
in having my own dear aunt's care and teaching
from their infancy until they were aged respectively
nine and ten years. They were not at first "re
markable " children. They were not infant phenom
ena, subjected to the perilous applause of admiring
friends and kindred. They were normal in every
respect clean-blooded, sturdy, and wholesome;
with good appetites, cool heads, and quick percep
tions. They became, under the care of their wise
preceptor, unusually interesting and intelligent chil
dren. My aunt adored the children, firmly be
lieving that, however degeneracy might have impaired
the human race in its progress of evolution, these
two at least had been made in God's image. In the
words of their nurse, she " tuned them as if they
132 My Day
were little harps just to see how sweet the music
could be ! " They studied together Gordon under
standing that she must encourage the little brother,
and read to him until he could read himself. In
summer the schoolroom was sometimes al fresco,
even drawing upon the knotted branches of the
cherry tree for desks !
Gordon read very well at the age of three. She
was also taught, before she could read, to point out
rivers and cities on a map. Before he was four,
Theodorick could read also. The children never
had a distasteful task. I heard a great scholar say
that all learning could be made charming to a young
mind. The aunt of these children made their les
sons a reward. " Now be good when you dress,
and you may have a lesson," or "if Gordon and
Theo don't ask for anything, I will give them a
lesson right after dinner." The lessons, through
the teacher's skill and patience, were made delightful.
At once they were given paper and pencils, colored
and plain, and both wrote before they were five.
Their teacher disapproved of gory tales of giants
and hobgoblins. Instead of these, they had his
tories quite as thrilling, and stories of the animal
kingdom, with which they lived in perfect amity and
kinship. They never had caged birds, but ducks
and chickens, dogs small and great, cats and kittens,
were all regarded as part of the family, and bore
historic names. Theo once picked up (he was
three) a small chicken, whereupon the mother hen
rose to his shoulders and administered a good
spanking with her wings. A servant, with great
My Day 133
heat, belabored the hen ; and Theo checked his sobs
to entreat for her, explaining, " she didn't like for me
to love her little white chicken." The hen, for
sooth, was jealous ! He once caught a bee in his
hand and received a stinging rebuke. " How could
you be so silly?" exclaimed his little sister. "Not
at all," said Theo; " I have often done the same
thing but this little fellow," he added affection
ately, "this little fellow had a brier in his tail!"
Their aunt hesitated whether she should tell them
harrowing stories from history, but experiment
proved, however, that the heroic held for them such
fascination that they lost sight completely of the pain
or suffering attending it. They adored the men and
women who died bravely, but had their favorites.
Lady Jane Grey was not one, nor Mary Queen of
Scots (perhaps because of their ruffs), but they wor
shipped Marie Antoinette and Charles I. They
had a very high regard for honor and fair dealing.
Theo was a little over three years when he com
plained to me of his little sister, " I just laid my
head on the stool and let her chop it off because
I am Charles I and now she is Marie Antoinette,
and when I am ready to cut off her head, she
screams and runs away." His sense of justice was
outraged, but the little sister's vivid imagination
made her nervous, notwithstanding the fact that a
cushion was the guillotine ! Having observed that
a large knotted stick was treated with respect, and
travelled, to my inconvenience, with Theo on sev
eral journeys, I essayed to throw it away. With
great dignity he gravely informed me, " This is
134 My Day
Rameses III." Not only was it one of the Egyp
tian kings, but the richest of them all. I wish I
could follow these two fascinating children beyond
their babyhood, but I cannot venture ! I dare not !
Late in the autumn I left Rock Hill to visit my
uncle at the Oaks in Charlotte. I had travelled
alone from Richmond to Mossingford, ten or twelve
miles from my uncle's house, and there old Uncle
Peter met me with the great high-swung chariot and
a hamper well filled with broiled partridges, biscuits,
cakes, and fruit. The rain had poured a steady
flood for several days, but to my joy the clouds were
now rolling away in heavy masses, and the sun shin
ing hotly on the water-soaked earth.
"We got to hurry, Mistis," said the old coachman,
as we prepared to enjoy an al fresco luncheon ;
" the cricks was risin' mighty fas' when I come
along fo' sun-up dis mornin'."
"But we don't have to cross the river, Uncle
Peter?"
"Gawd A'mighty, no," exclaimed the old man.
" Ef'n I had to cross Staunton River, I'd done give
clean up, fo' I see you! When we git home, we'll
fine out what ole Staunton River doin'. I lay she's
* > 'L " 1 * > I
jes a bihn !
"Well, then there is some danger?"
"Who talkin' 'bout danger? De kerridge sets
mighty high. No'm, der ain't no danger, but I ain't
trustin' dem cricks. I knows cricks ! Dee kin
swell deeself up as big's a river in no time!"
We had not gone far before we were overtaken by
a mud-splashed horseman, who arrested our horses
My Day 135
and spoke in a low tone to the driver. Presently he
appeared at the carnage window. "This is Mrs.
Pryor? You remember Mr. Carrington ? I hope
I see you well, Madam. I am on my way to vote
for your husband or rather, help elect him. We
have a fine day; the polls need not be kept open
to-morrow. But I must hasten on. We will soon
have the pleasure of congratulating our congress
man."
" One moment, please, Mr. Carrington! Are the
creeks too high for us to cross ? "
" I think not, Madam. The carriage hangs high,
and Peter knows all about freshets. Good morning."
There were swollen streams for us to cross.
Several of them had overflowed the meadows until
they looked like lakes. At one or two the water
flowed over the floor of the carriage, and we gathered
our feet under us on the seats. My little Theo
enjoyed it, but my poor nurse was ashen from terror.
Very wet, very cold, and very grateful were we when
at night we reached our haven. My dear uncle,
Dr. Rice, was already there, with cheering news from
the polls.
The next morning we looked out upon a turbid
yellow sea. The Staunton had sustained her repu
tation, overflowed her low banks, and spread herself
generously over the face of the earth. It was a week
or more before my husband was assured of his
election. He spent the intervening days of rest
sleeping like the boy he was!
Several years later, when he was reelected, we
were in Richmond with my little family. Gordon
136 My Day
and the two little boys were keen politicians. Of
course I was now too busy a mother to concern
myself with politics, as was my wont in the earlier
days. Moreover, I knew my congressman would
be reflected. I was pretty sure by this time that
he would always be elected so the day passed
serenely with me. I was overwhelmed with dismay
when one of his friends called after the polls closed
at sunset, and informed me that a torch-light pro
cession would reach our house about eight o'clock,
and would expect to find it illuminated.
"Illuminated!" I exclaimed. "And pray with
what ? There are not half a dozen candles in the
house, and the stores are all closed. Besides, the
baby will be asleep. It is bad for babies to be waked
out of their first sleep."
My friend did not contradict me, but in the even
ing he sent a bushel of small turnips and a box of
candles, with a note telling me to cut a hole in the
turnips, insert a candle, and they would answer my
purpose admirably. Everybody went to work with
a will, and when the crowd, shouting and cheering,
surrounded us, every window-pane blazed a welcome
into the happy faces. My young congressman
made one of his charming speeches, and then the
lights went out on the last election he was destined
to celebrate ! True, he was twice after elected to
Congress in the Confederate States ; for the South
had need of him in her legislative hall as well as in
the field. In both he gave her all his heart and soul
and strength, but the days were too sad for illumi
nations in his honor.
My Day 137
My story has now reached the period at which my
" Reminiscences of Peace and War " begin. I shall
not relate the political history of the period which
has been better told by others than I can hope to tell
it. I shall endeavor to bring forward some things that
were omitted in my late book, but in narrating the in
cidents of the Civil War and the preceding life in
Washington, I may in some measure repeat myself.
For this I have a valid excuse. Apologizing for
quoting himself from a former book on Edmund
Burke, John Morley remarks : " Though you may
say what you have to say well once, you cannot so
say it twice.' 1 Lord Morley strengthens his posi
tion by a quotation in Greek, which, unhappily, re
mains Greek to me, and I therefore cannot avail my
self of its help, but I am glad to be sustained by his
example. Besides, what says Oliver Wendell
Holmes ? " It is the height of conceit for an author
to be afraid of repeating himself because it implies
that everybody has read and remembers what
he has said before."
CHAPTER XVII
WASHINGTON was like a great village in
the days of President Pierce and President
Buchanan. My own pride in the federal city
was such that my heart would swell within me at every
glimpse of the Capitol : from the moment it rose like a
white cloud above the smoke and mists, as I stood on
the deck of the steamboat (having run up from my din
ner to salute Mount Vernon), to the time when I was
wont to watch from my window for the sunset, that I
might catch the moment when a point on the un
finished dome glowed like a great blazing star after
the sun had really gone down. No matter whether
suns rose or set, there was the star of our country,
the star of our hearts and hopes.
When our friends came up from Virginia to make
us visits, it was delightful to take a carriage and give
up days to sight-seeing; to visit the White House
and Capitol, the Patent Office, with its miscellaneous
treasures ; to point with pride to the rich gifts from
crowned heads which our adored first President was
too conscientious to accept ; to walk among the
stones lying around the base of the unfinished monu
ment and read the inscriptions from the states pre
senting them ; to spend a day at the Smithsonian
Institution, and to introduce our friends to its presi
dent, Mr. Henry; and to Mr. Spenser Baird and
Mr. George, who were giving their lives to the study
138
My Day 139
of birds, beasts, and fishes, finding them, as Mr.
George still contended, " so much more interesting
than men," adding hastily, " We do not say ladies,"
and blushing after the manner of cloistered scholars ;
to hint of interesting things about Mr. George, who
was a melancholy young man, and who had, as we
know, sustained a great sorrow.
Then the visits to the galleries of the House and
Senate Chamber, and the honor of pointing out the
great men to our friends from rural districts ; the
long listening to interminable speeches, not clearly
understood, but heard with a reverent conviction
that all was coming out right in the end, that every
body was really working for the good of his coun
try, and that we belonged to it all and were parts of
it all.
This was the thought behind all other thoughts
which glorified everything around us, enhanced
every fortunate circumstance, and caused us to
ignore the real discomforts of life in Washington :
the cold, the ice-laden streets in winter ; the whirl
winds of dust and driving rains of spring ; the
swift-coming fierceness of summer heat ; the rapid
atmospheric changes which would give us all these
extremes in one week, or even one day, until it
became the part of prudence never to sally forth
on any expedition without " a fan, an overcoat, and
an umbrella."
The social life in Washington was almost as vari
able as the climate. At the end of every four years
the kaleidoscope turned, and lo ! a new central
jewel and new colors and combinations in the setting.
140 My Day
But behind this " floating population/* as the
political circles were termed, there was a fine so
ciety in the fifties of " old residents " who held
themselves apart from the motley crowd of office-
seekers. This society was sufficient to itself, never
seeking the new, while accepting it occasionally with
discretion, reservations, and much discriminating
care. The sisters, Mrs. Gales and Mrs. Seaton,
wives of the editors of the National Intelligencer,
led this society. Mrs. Gales's home was outside the
city, and thence every day Mr. Gales was driven in
his barouche to his office. His paper was the ex
ponent of the Old Line Whigs (the Republican
party was formed later), and in stern opposition to
the Democrats. It was, therefore, a special and
unexpected honor for a Democrat to be permitted
to drive out to " the cottage " for a glass of wine
and a bit of fruit-cake with Mrs. Gales and Mrs.
Seaton. Never have I seen these gentlewomen ex
celled in genial hospitality. Mrs. Gales was a hand
some woman and a fine conversationalist. She had
the courteous repose born of dignity and intelli
gence and a certain reticence which makes for dis
tinction. She was literally her husband's right
hand, he had lost his own, and was the only
person who could decipher his left-hand writing.
So that when anything appeared from his pen it
had been copied by his wife before it reached the
type-setter. A fine education this for an intelligent
woman ; the very best schooling for a social life
including diplomats from foreign countries, politi
cians of diverse opinions, artists, authors, musicians,
My Day 141
women of fashion, to entertain whom required infi
nite tact, cleverness, and an intimate acquaintance
with the absorbing questions of the day.
Of course the levees and state receptions, which
were accessible to all, required none of these things.
The role of hostess on state occasions could be
filled creditably by any woman of ordinary physical
strength, patience, self-control, who knew when to
be silent.
Washington society, at the time of which I write,
was comparatively free from non-official men of
wealth from other cities who, weary with the monot
onous round of travel, to the Riviera, to Egypt,
to Monte Carlo, are attracted by the unique at
mosphere of a city holding many foreigners, and
devoted not to commercial but to social and politi
cal interests. The doors of the White House and
Cabinet offices being open on occasions to all, they
have opportunities denied them in their own homes.
Society in Washington in the fifties was peculiarly
interesting in that it was composed exclusively of
men whose presence argued them to have been of
importance at home. They had been elected by
the people, or chosen by the President, or selected
among the very best in foreign countries, or they
belonged to the United States Army or Navy ser
vice, or to the descendants of the select society
which had gathered in the city early in its history. 1
As I had come to Washington from Virginia,
where everybody's great-grandfather knew my
great-grandfather, where the rules of etiquette were
1 " Reminiscences of Peace and War," passim.
142 My Day
only those of courtesy and good breeding, I had
many a troubled moment in my early Washington
life, lest I should transgress some law of prece
dence, etc. I wisely took counsel with one of my
" old residents," and she gave me a few simple
rules whereby the young chaperon of a very young
girl might be guided : " My dear," said this lady,
" my dear, you know you cannot always have your
husband to attend you. It will be altogether
proper for you to go with your sister to morning
and afternoon receptions. When you arrive, send
for the host or the master of ceremonies, and he
will take you in and present you. Of course, your
husband will take you to balls ; if he is busy, you
simply cannot go ! I think you would do well to
make a rule never, under any circumstances, to
drive in men's carriages. There are so many
foreigners here, you must be careful. They never
bring their own court manners to Washington.
They take their cue from the people they meet.
If you are high and haughty, they will be high and
haughty. If you are genially civil but reserved,
they will be so. If you talk personalities in a free
and easy way, they will spring some audacious piece
of scandal on you, and the Lord only knows where
they'll end."
Now, it so happened that I had just received a
request from a Frenchman who had brought letters
to be allowed to escort Madame and Mademoiselle
to a fete in Georgetown. We were to drive through
the avenue of blossoming crab-apples, and rendez
vous at a spring for a picnic. I forget the name of
My Day 143
our hostess, but she had arranged a gay festival, in
cluding music and dancing on the green. I had
accepted this invitation and the escort of M. Raoul,
and received a note from him asking at what hour
he should have the honor, etc., and I immediately
ran home and wrote that "Madame would be happy
to see M. Raoul a trots heures" and that Madame
asked the privilege of using her own horses, etc. I
made haste to engage an open carriage, and con
gratulated myself on my clever management.
The afternoon was delicious. Monsieur appeared
on the moment, and we waited for my carriage. The
gay equipages of other members of the party drove
up and waited for us. Presently, rattling down the
street, came an old ramshackle c< night-hawk," bear
ing the mud-and-dust scars of many journeys, the
seats ragged and tarnished, raw-boned horses with
rat-eaten manes and tails, harness tied with rope,
the only redeeming feature the old negro on the box,
who, despite his humiliating entourage, had the air of
a gentleman.
What could I do ? There was nothing to be
done!
Monsieur handed me in without moving a muscle
of his face, handed in my sister, entered himself, and
spoke no word during the drive. He conducted us
gravely to the place of rendezvous, silently and
gravely walked around the grounds with us, silently
and gravely brought us home again.
I grew hot and cold by turns, and almost shed
tears of mortification. I made no apology what
could I say ? Arriving at my own door, I turned
144 My Day
and invited my escort to enter. He raised his hat,
and with an air of the deepest dejection, dashed with
something very like sarcastic humility, said he trusted
Madame had enjoyed the afternoon, thanked her
for the honor done himself, and only regretted
the disappointment of the French Minister, the Count
de Sartiges, at not having been allowed to serve
Madame with his own state coach, which had been
placed at his disposal for Madame's pleasure !
As he turned away, my chagrin was such I came
very near forgetting to give my coachman his little
"tip."
I began, " Oh, Uncle, how could you ? " when he
interrupted : " Now Mistis, don't you say nothin' ;
I knowed dis ole fune'al hack warn't fittin' for you,
but der warn't nar another kerridge in de stable. De
boss say, c Go 'long, Jerry, an' git er dar ! ' an' I
done done it ! An' I done fotch 'er back, too ! "
I never saw M. Raoul afterward. There's no use
crying over spilt milk, or broken eggs, or French
monsieurs, or even French counts and ministers. I
soon left for Virginia, and to be relieved of the dread
of meeting M. Raoul softened my regret at leaving
Washington.
I am sorry I cannot, at length, describe the brill
iant society of Washington during the few years
preceding the Civil War. I have done this else
where, and need not repeat it here. But for the
anxieties engendered by the exciting questions of the
day, my own happiness would have been complete.
I found and made many friends. My husband was
appreciated, my children healthy and good, my home
My Day 145
delightful. Many of the brilliant men and women
assembled in Washington were known to me more or
less intimately, and everybody was kind to me.
President Buchanan early noticed and invited me.
" The President/' said Mr. Dudley Mann, " admires
your husband and wonders why you were not at the
levee. He has asked me to see that you come to
the next one/' I once ventured to send him a
Virginia ham, with directions for cooking it. It was
to be soaked overnight, gently boiled three or four
hours, suffered to get cold in its own juices, and then
toasted. This would seem simple enough, but the
executive cook disdained it, perhaps for the reason
that it was so simple. The dish, a shapeless, jelly-
like mass, was placed before the President. He
took his knife and fork in hand to honor the dish
by carving it himself, looked at it helplessly, and
called out, " Take it away ! Take it away ! Oh,
Miss Harriet ! You are a poor housekeeper ! Not
even a Virginia lady can teach you."
The glass dishes of the epergne contained wonder
ful " French kisses" two-inch squares of crystal
lized sugar wrapped in silver paper, and elaborately
decorated with lace and artificial flowers. I was
very proud at one dinner when the President said to
me, " Madam, I am sending you a souvenir for your
little daughter," and a waiter handed me one of those
gorgeous affairs. He had questioned me about my
boys, and I had told him of my daughter Gordon,
eight years old, who lived with her grandmother.
"You must bring her to see Miss Harriet," he had
said which, in due season, I did; an event, with
146 My Day
its crowning glory of a checked silk dress, white hat
and feather, which she proudly remembers to this
day. Having been duly presented at court, the little
lady was much " in society," and accompanied me to
many brilliant afternoon functions.
She was a thoughtful listener to the talk in her
father's library, and once, when an old politician spoke
sadly of a possible rupture of the United States,
surprised and delighted him by slipping her hand
in his and saying, " Never mind ! United will spell
7/*Wjust as well" a little mot which was remem
bered and repeated long afterward.
An interesting time was the arrival in Washington
of the first Japanese Embassy that visited this coun
try. All Washington was crazy over the event. I
have told elsewhere of my own childish behavior
upon that occasion when, not having much of a
head to speak of, I lost the little I had. Having
already cared for the health of my soul by honest
confession, I need not repeat it here. I was nervous
lest the Japanese dignitaries should recognize me as
the effusive lady who had met them en route^ but I
carefully avoided wearing in their presence the bon
net and gown they had seen, and if they remembered
they gave no sign.
Washington lost its head ! There was something
ridiculous in the way it behaved. So many fetes
were given to the Japanese, so many dinners, so
many receptions, we were worn out attending them.
"I don't know what we have come here for," said
one senator to another ; " there's nothing whatever
done at the House." "/ know," his friend
My Day 147
replied ; " we came here to wait on the Japanese
at table."
At the end of one of the balls given them I had
seated myself at the door of an anteroom, while my
husband was struggling for his carnage in the street.
Across the room Miss Lane, with her party, also
waited. A young man whom I had seen in society,
but whose name I had not heard, approached me, and
commenced a harangue of tender sympathy for my
neglected position, so young, so fair, so innocent !
Oh, where, where was the miscreant who should pro
tect me ? Why, why could I not have been given
to one who could have appreciated me whose life
and soul would have been mine, and more in the
same strain. I did not, in accordance with stage
proprieties, exclaim, " Unhand me, villain ! " At
first I affected not to hear, but finally rose, crossed
the room, and joined Miss Lane. She had not
heard, and I did not deem the incident, although
novel and most annoying, important enough for in
quiry. I did not know him, there was no need for
investigation no call for pistols and coffee.
A few days after I saw him again at the Baron de
Limbourg's garden-party. I had joined with Lord
Lyons and the Prince de Joinville in the toast to
Miss Lane, pledged in the famous thousand-dollar-
a-drop " Rose " wine, and was again in the foyer
waiting for my carriage when my would-be champion
again approached me. cc Mrs. Pryor," he said in calm,
measured tones, " I am Lieutenant . I feel
perfectly sure you will grant my request. Take my
arm and go with me to speak to Miss Lane."
148 My Day
I instantly divined his intention. Walking up to
Miss Harriet, he said penitently: "Miss Lane, you
witnessed my intrusion upon Mrs. Pryor the other
evening and her exquisite forbearance. In your
presence I humbly beg her pardon." He had, poor
fellow, found General Cass's wines too potent for him.
He had "lost his head" that was all. I knew
somebody whose head had been by no means a sure fix
ture without the excuse of General Cass's fine wines.
Dear Miss Lane, so thoroughly equipped for her
high position by her residence at the court of St.
James, had only kindness then and ever for the wife
of the young Virginia congressman. Years afterward,
when both our heads were gray, we talked together
of these amusing little events in our Washington life.
Memory lingers upon the delightful friends who
made my Washington life beautiful : Miss Lane,
Mrs. Douglas, Lady Napier, Mrs. Horace Clarke
(nee Vanderbilt), lovely Mrs. Cyrus H. M'Cormick,
Mrs. Yulee, the Ritchies, the Masons, Secretary
Cass's family, Mrs. Canfield, Mrs. Ledyard, and my
prime favorite, Lizzie Ledyard. Ah ! they were
charming and kind ! Even after social lines were
strictly drawn between North and South, I had the
good fortune to retain my Northern friends. All
this I love to remember and would enjoy writing all
over again, were it possible twice to give time to
social records. Nor can I pause to do more than
hint at the spirit of the Thirty-sixth Congress, the
struggles, vituperation, intemperate speech, honest
efforts of the wise members.
The nomination of Lincoln and Hamlin on a
My Day 149
purely sectional platform aroused such excitement
all over the land that the Senate and House of
Representatives gave themselves entirely to speeches
on the state of the country. Read at this late day,
many of them appear to be the high utterances of
patriots, pleading with each other for forbearance.
Others exhausted the vocabulary of coarse vitupera
tion. " Nigger thief," " slave-driver " were not un
common words. Others still, although less unrefined,
were not less abusive. Newspapers no longer re
ported a speech as calm, convincing, logical, or elo
quent these were tame expressions.- The terms
now in use were : " a torrent of scathing denunciation,"
"withering sarcasm," "crushing invective," the ora
tor's eyes the while " blazing with scorn and indig
nation." Young members ignored the salutation
of old senators. Mr. Seward's smile after such a
rebuff was maddening ! No opportunity for scorn
ful allusion was lost. My husband was probably
the first congressman to wear cc the gray," a suit of
domestic cloth having been presented to him by his
constituents. Immediately a Northern member said,
in an address on the state of the country, " Virginia,
instead of clothing herself in sheep's wool, had bet
ter don her appropriate garb of sackcloth and ashes."
In pathetic contrast to these scenes were the rosy,
cherubic little pages, in white blouses and cambric
collars, who flitted to and fro, bearing, with smiling
faces, dynamic notes and messages from one rep
resentative to another. They represented the future
which these gentlemen were engaged in wrecking
for many of these boys were sons of Southern widows,
150 My Day
who even now, under the most genial skies, led
lives of anxiety and struggle. Thoroughly alarmed,
the women of Washington thronged the galleries of
the House and the Senate-chamber. From morn
ing until the hour of adjournment we would sit
spellbound, as one after another drew the lurid
picture of disunion and war.
When my husband's time came to speak on
" the state of the country," he entreated for a
pacific settlement of our controversy. " War," he
urged, " war means widows and orphans." The
temper of the speech was all for peace. He made
a noble appeal to the North for concession. He
prophesied (the dreamer) that the South could never
be subdued by resort to arms ! My Northern friends
were prompt to congratulate me upon his speech on
" the state of the country," and to praise it with
generous words as " calm, free from vituperation,
eloquent in pleading for peace and forbearance."
The evening after this speech was delivered we
were sitting in the library, on the first floor of our
home, when there was a ring at the door-bell. The
servants were in a distant part of the house, and
such was our excited state that I ran to the door
and answered the bell myself. It was snowing fast,
a carriage stood at the door, and out of it bundled
a mass of shawls and woollen scarfs. On entering, a
man-servant commenced unwinding the bundle,
which proved to be the Secretary of State, General
Cass ! We knew not what to think. He was
seventy-seven years old. Every night at nine
o'clock it was the custom of his daughter, Mrs. Can-
My Day 151
field, to wrap him in flannels and put him to bed.
What had brought him out at midnight ? As soon
as he entered, before sitting down, he exclaimed :
" Mr. Pry or, I have been hearing about secession
for a long time and I would not listen. But now
I am frightened, sir, I am frightened ! Your speech
in the House to-day gives me some hope. Mr.
Pryor ! I crossed the Ohio when I was sixteen
years old with but a pittance in my pocket, and this
glorious Union has made me what I am. I have
risen from my bed, sir, to implore you to do what
you can to avert the disasters which threaten our
country with ruin."
We had this solemn warning to report to our
Southern friends who assembled many an evening
in our library : R. M. T. Hunter, Muscoe Garnett,
Porcher Miles, L. Q. C. Lamar, Boyce, Barksdale
of Mississippi, Keitt of South Carolina, with perhaps
some visitors from the South. Then Susan would
light her fires and show us the kind of oysters that
could please her " own white folks," and James
would bring in lemons and hot water, with some
choice brand of old Kentucky.
These were not convivial gatherings. These men
held troubled consultations on the state of the coun
try, the real meaning and intent of the North, the
half-trusted scheme of Judge Douglas to allow the
territories to settle for themselves the vexed ques
tion of slavery within their borders, the right of
peaceable secession. The dawn would find them again
and again with but one conclusion, they would stand
together : " Unum et commune periclum una salus ! "
152 My Day
But Holbein's spectre was already behind the
door, and had marked his men ! In a few months
the swift bullet for one enthusiast ; for another (the
least considered of them all), a glorious death on
the walls of a hard-won rampart he the first to
raise his colors and the shout of victory ; for only one,
or two, or three, that doubtful boon of existence after
the struggle was all over ; for all survivors, memo
ries that made the next four years seem to be the
sum of life, the only real life, beside which the
coming years would be but a troubled dream.
The long session did not close until June, and in
the preceding month Abraham Lincoln was chosen
candidate by the Republican party for the presi
dency. Stephen A. Douglas was the candidate of
the Democrats. The South and the " Old Line
Whigs " also named their men. The words " irre-
Q
pressible conflict " were much used during the ensu
ing campaign.
The authorship of these words has always been
credited to Mr. Seward. Their true origin may be
found in the address of Mr. Lincoln, delivered at
Cincinnati, Ohio, in September, 1859. On page
262 of the volume published by Follett, Foster, and
Company in 1860, entitled "Political Debates be
tween Hon. Abraham Lincoln and Hon. Stephen
A. Douglas," may be found the following extract
from Mr. Lincoln's speech :
" I have alluded in the beginning of these remarks to the
fact that Judge Douglas has made great complaint of my
having expressed the opinion that this government c can
not endure permanently half slave and half free.' He has
My Day 153
complained of Seward for using different language, and
declaring that there is an ' irrepressible conflict ' between
the principles of free and slave labor. ^A voice, u He says
it is not original with Seward. That is original with Lin
coln."] I will attend to that immediately, sir. Since that
time Hickman of Pennsylvania expressed the same senti
ment. He has never denounced Mr. Hickman ; why ?
There is a little chance, notwithstanding that opinion in
the mouth of Hickman, that he may yet be a Douglas man.
That is the difference ! It is not unpatriotic to hold that
opinion, if a man is a Douglas man.
" But neither I, nor Seward, nor Hickman is entitled to
the enviable or unenviable distinction of having first ex
pressed that idea. That same idea was expressed by the
Richmond Enquirer in Virginia, in 1856, quite two years before
it was expressed by the first of us. And while Douglas was
pluming himself that in his conflict with my humble self, last
year, he had ' squelched out ' that fatal heresy, as he de
lighted to call it, and had suggested that if he only had had
a chance to be in New York and meet Seward he would
have ' squelched ' it there also, it never occurred to him to
breathe a word against Pryor. I don't think that you can
discover that Douglas ever talked of going to Virginia to
c squelch ' out that idea there. No. More than that.
That same Roger A. Pryor was brought to Washington
City and made the editor of the par excellence Douglas
paper, after making use of that expression, which in us is
so unpatriotic and heretical."
On November 6, 1860, Mr. Lincoln was elected
President of the United States. On the following
December 20 we heard that South Carolina had
seceded from the Union. We were all, at the time
the news arrived, attending the wedding of Mr.
Bouligny and Miss Parker. The ceremony had
154 My Day
taken place, and I was standing behind the Presi
dent's chair when a commotion in the hall arrested
his attention. He looked at me over his shoulder
and asked if I supposed the house was on fire.
" I will inquire the cause, Mr. President," I said.
I went out at the nearest door, and there in the en
trance hall I found Mr. Lawrence Keitt, member
from South Carolina, leaping in the air, shaking a
paper over his head, and exclaiming, "Thank God!
Oh, thank God ! " I took hold of him and said :
" Mr. Keitt, are you crazy ? The President hears
you, and wants to know what's the matter."
" Oh ! " he cried, " South Carolina has seceded !
Here's the telegram. I feel like a boy let out from
school."
I returned, and bending over Mr. Buchanan's
chair, said in a low voice: "It appears, Mr. Presi
dent, that South Carolina has seceded from the
Union. Mr. Keitt has a telegram." He looked
at me, stunned for a moment. Falling back and
grasping the arms of his chair, he whispered,
" Madam, might I beg you to have my carriage
called?" I met his secretary and sent him in
without explanation, and myself saw that his carriage
was at the door before I reentered the room. I
then found my husband, who was already cornered
with Mr. Keitt, and we called our own carriage and
drove to Judge Douglas's. There was no more
thought of bride, bridegroom, wedding-cake, or
wedding breakfast.
This was the tremendous event which was to
change all our lives, to give us poverty for riches,
My Day 155
mutilation and wounds for strength and health,
obscurity and degradation for honor and distinction,
exile and loneliness for inherited homes and friends,
pain and death for happiness and life.
Apprehension was felt lest the new President's
inaugural might be the occasion of rioting, if not of
violence. We Southerners were advised to send
women and children out of the city. Hastily packing
my personal and household belongings to be sent
after me, I took my little boys, with their faithful
nurse, Eliza Page, on board the steamer to Acquia
Creek, and, standing on deck as long as I could see
the dome of the Capitol, commenced my journey
homeward. My husband remained behind, and
kept his seat in Congress until Mr. Lincoln's inaug
uration. He described that mournful day to me,
differing so widely from the happy installation of
Mr. Pierce ; " o'er all there hung a shadow and a
fear." Every one was oppressed by it, and no one
more than the doomed President himself.
We were reunited a few weeks afterward at our
father's house in Petersburg ; and in a short time
my young congressman had become my young
colonel and congressman as well, for as soon as
Virginia seceded he was elected to the Provisional
Congress of the Confederate States of America, and
was commissioned colonel by Governor Letcher.
We bade adieu to the bright days, the balls
(sometimes three in one evening), the round of visits,
the levees, the charming " at homes." The setting
sun of such a day should pillow itself on golden
clouds, bright harbingers of a morning of beauty and
156 My Day
happiness. Alas, alas ! " whom the gods destroy
they first infatuate."
The fate of Virginia was decided April 15, when
President Lincoln demanded troops for the subjuga
tion of the seceding states of the South. The temper
of Governor Letcher of Virginia was precisely in ac
cord with the spirit that prompted the answer of
Governor Magoffin of Kentucky to a similar call for
state militia, " Kentucky will furnish no troops for
the wicked purpose of subduing her sister Southern
states ! " Until this call of the President, Virginia
had been extremely averse from secession, and even
though she deemed it within her rights to leave the
Union, she did not wish to pledge herself to join
the Confederate States of the South. Virginia was
the Virginian's country. The common people were
wont to speak of her as " The Old Mother," " the
mother of us all," a mother so honored and loved
that her brood of children must be noble and true.
Her sons had never forgotten her ! She had
fought nobly in the Revolution and had afterward
surrendered, for the common good, her magnificent
territory. Had she retained this vast dominion,
she could now have dictated to all the other states.
She gave it up from a pure spirit of patriotism,
that there might be the fraternity which could not
exist without equality, and in surrendering it she
had reserved for herself the right to withdraw from
the confederation whenever she should deem it
expedient for her own welfare. There were lead
ing spirits who thought the hour had come when
she might demand her right. She was not on a
My Day 157
plane with the other states of the Union. "Vir
ginia, New York, and Massachusetts had expressly
reserved the right to withdraw from the Union, and
explicitly disclaimed the right or power to bind the
hands of posterity by any form of government
whatever." 1
A strong party was the " Union Party," sternly
resolved against secession, willing to run the risks of
fighting within the Union for the rights of the state.
This spirit was so strong that any hint of secession
had been met with angry defiance. A Presbyterian
clergyman had ventured, in his morning sermon, a
hint that Virginia might need her sons for defence,
when a gray-haired elder left the church, and turn
ing at the door, shouted, " Traitor ! " This was in
Petersburg, near the birthplace of General Winfield
Scott.
And still another party was the enthusiastic seces
sion party, resolved upon resistance to coercion ; the
men who could believe nothing good of the North,
should interests of that section conflict with those
of the South ; who cherished the bitterest resentments
for all the sneers and insults in Congress ; who,
like the others, adored their own state and were
ready and willing to die in her defence. Strange
to say, this was the predominating spirit all through
the country, in rural districts as well as in the small
towns and the larger cities. It seemed to be born
all at once in every breast as soon as Lincoln de
manded the soldiers.
When it was disclosed that a majority of the
* Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. ai.
158 My Day
Virginia Convention opposed taking the state out
of the Union, the secessionists became greatly
alarmed ; for they knew that without the border
states, of which Virginia was the leader, the cotton
states would be speedily crushed. They were
positively certain, however, that in the event of
actual hostilities Virginia would unite with her
Southern associates. Accordingly, it was determined
to bring a popular pressure to bear upon the govern
ment at Montgomery to make an assault on Fort
Sumter. To that end my husband went to Charleston,
and delivered to an immense and enthusiastic audience
a most impassioned and vehement speech, urging
the Southern troops to " strike a blow/' and assur
ing them that in case of conflict, Virginia would
secede " within an hour by Shrewsbury clock."
The blow was struck ; Mr. Lincoln called upon
Virginia for a quota of troops to subdue the rebel
lion, and the state immediately passed an ordinance
of secession. Here, in substance, is my husband's
Charleston speech, as reported at the time by the
New York Tribune :
u Mr. Roger A. Pryor, called by South Carolina papers
the ' eloquent young tribune of the South,' was on Wednes
day evening serenaded at Charleston. In response to
the compliment he made some remarks, among which were
the following : c Gentlemen, for my part, if Abraham Lin
coln and Hannibal Hamlin were to abdicate their office to
morrow, and were to give to me a blank sheet of paper
whereupon to write the conditions of reannexation to the
Union, I would scorn the privilege of putting the terms upon
paper. [Cheers. ,] And why ? Because our grievance has
My Day 159
not been with reference to the insufficiency of the guaran
tees, but the unutterable perfidy of the guarantors ; and in
asmuch as they would not fulfil the stipulations of the old
Constitution, much less will they carry out the guarantees
of a better Constitution looking to the interests of the
South. Therefore, I invoke you to give no countenance
to any idea of reconstruction. \_A voice, u We don't intend
to do anything of the kind."] It is the fear of that which
is embarrassing us in Virginia, for all there say if we are re
duced to the dilemma of an alternative, they will espouse
the cause of the South against the interests of the Northern
Confederacy. If you have any ideas of reconstruction, I
pray you annihilate them. Give forth to the world that
under no circumstances whatever will South Carolina stay
in political association with the Northern states. I under
stand since I have been in Charleston that there is some
little apprehension of Virginia in this great exigency. Now
I am not speaking for Virginia officially ; I wish to God I
were, for I would put her out of the Union before twelve
o'clock to-night. [Laughter. ~\ But I bid you dismiss your
apprehensions as to the old Mother of Presidents. Give
the old lady time. [Laughter. ~\ She cannot move with
the agility of some of the younger daughters. She is a
little rheumatic. Remember she must be pardoned for de
ferring somewhat to the exigencies of opposition in the
Pan Handle of Virginia. Remember the personnel of the
convention to whom she intrusted her destinies. But
making these reservations, I assure you that just so certain
as to-morrow's sun will rise upon us, just so certain will
Virginia be a member of the Southern Confederation. We
will put her in if you but strike a blow. [Cheers. .] I do not
say anything to produce an effect upon the military opera
tions of your authorities, for I know no more about them
than a spinster. I only repeat, if you wish Virginia to be
with you, strike a blow ! ' "
160 My Day
The effect, however, of the speech was not merely
the adoption of the ordinance of secession by Vir
ginia. In precipitating the assault upon Sumter
the speech had another and now little known
consequence.
It must be borne in mind that when only South
Carolina had seceded, the Republican party, with the
assent of the President-elect, had proffered to the
South a compromise in these terms : " The Consti
tution shall never be altered so as to authorize Con
gress to abolish or interfere with slavery in the states."
Of course, no Southern state would oppose a propo
sition which for the first time made slavery eo nomine
an institution under federal protection, and guar
anteed it perpetual existence in the slave-holding
states. Equally evident was it that a measure sup
ported by Lincoln and the entire Republican party
would prevail in every Northern state. The mere
pendency, then, of such an overture, if not intercepted
in its passage by an act of hostility between the
seceded states and the federal government, would
have certainly bound the border states to the Union,
and have insured the miscarriage of the secession
movement.
Had not the attack on Sumter been made at the
critical moment, the Republican compromise, as
already intimated, would have prevailed, and slavery
have been imbedded in the Constitution and fastened
upon the country beyond the chance of removal,
except by revolution, or the voluntary renunciation
of its cherished interests by the slave-holding South.
1 Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.
My Day 161
The latter alternative is an inconceivable possibility ;
and hence, but for the "blow" which prompted
hostilities and prevented a pacific solution, slavery
would exist to-day as a recognized institution of the
republic.
I do not pretend that this consummation was
desired or anticipated by the Virginia secessionist,
but affirm only that he " builded better than he
knew," and that but for his act the nation would
not now be free from the reproach of human slavery.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE " overt act," for which everybody looked,
had been really the reenforcement by federal
troops of the fort in Charleston harbor.
When Fort Sumter was reduced by Beauregard,
"the fight was on." My husband, with other
gentlemen, was deputed by General Beauregard to
demand the surrender of the fort, and in case of
refusal which he foresaw, to direct the commandant
of the battery, Johnson, to open fire. When the
order was delivered to the commandant, he invited
my husband to fire the first shot ; but this honor
my husband declined, and instead suggested the
venerable Edmund RufHn, an intense secessionist,
for that service. It was the prevalent impression at
the time that Mr. Ruffin did " fire the first gun " ;
at all events he fired, to him, the last ; for on hear
ing of Lee's surrender, Cato-like, he destroyed
himself.
Fort Sumter was reduced on April 12, and Vir
ginia was in a wild state of excitement and confusion.
On May 23 Virginia ratified an ordinance of seces
sion, and on the early morning of May 24 the
federal soldiers, under the Virginian, General Win-
field Scott, crossed the Potomac River and occupied
Arlington Heights and the city of Alexandria. "The
invasion of Virginia, the pollution of her sacred soil,"
as it was termed, called forth a vigorous proclama-
162
My Day 163
tion from her governor and a cry of rage from her
press. General Beauregard issued a fierce procla
mation, tending to fire the hearts of the Virginians
with indignation. " A reckless and unprincipled
host," he declared, " has invaded your soil," etc.
Virginia needed no such stimulus. The First,
Second, and Third Virginia were immediately mus
tered into service, and my husband was colonel of the
Third Virginia Infantry. He was ordered to Nor
folk with his regiment to protect the seaboard. I
was proud of his colonelship, and much exercised
because he had no shoulder-straps. I undertook to
embroider them myself. We had not then decided
upon the star for our colonels' insignia, and I sup
posed he would wear the eagle like all the colonels
I had ever known. No embroidery bullion was to
be had, but I bought heavy bullion fringe, cut it in
lengths, and made eagles, probably of some extinct
species, for the like were unknown in Audubon's
time, and have not since been discovered. How
ever, they were accepted, admired, and, what is
worse, worn.
My resolution was taken. I steadily withstood
all the entreaties of my friends, and determined to
follow my husband's regiment through the war. I
did not ask his permission. I would give no
trouble. I should be only a help to his sick men
and his wounded. I busied myself in preparing a
camp equipage a field stove with a rotary chimney,
ticks for bedding, to be filled with straw or hay or
leaves, as the case might be, and a camp chest of tin
utensils, strong blankets, etc. A tent could always
164 My Day
be had from Major Shepard, our quartermaster.
News soon came that the Third Virginia had been
ordered to Smithfield. McClellan was looking to
ward the peninsula, and Major-general Joseph E.
Johnston was keeping an eye on McClellan.
When I set forth on what my father termed my
" wild-goose chase," I found the country literally
alive with troops. The train on which I travelled
was switched off again and again to allow them to
pass. My little boys had the time of their lives,
cheering the soldiers and picnicking at short inter
vals all day. But I had hardly reached Smithfield
before the good people of the town forcibly took
my camp equipage from me, stored it, and installed
me in great comfort in a private house. My colo
nel soon left me to take his seat in the Confederate
Congress along with Hon. William C. Rives and
others of our old friends. I was left alone at Smith-
field, not la fille du regiment : , but la mere! I
heard daily from all the sick men in winter quarters,
and ministered to them according to my ability.
The camp fascinated me. Picturesque huts were
built of pine with the bark on, and in clearings here
and there brilliant fires of the resinous wood were
constantly burning. I knew many of the officers,
and from them soon learned that the deadly foe at
home was more to be dreaded than the foe in front.
Smithfield was noted for its Virginia hams, its fine
fish, its mullets that would leap into the fisherman's
boat while he lazily enjoyed his brier-root, its great
sugary " yams/' as the red sweet-potato was called.
It was noted as well for the excellence of its brandy.
My Day 165
My colonel issued stern orders that no intoxicat
ing liquors were to be sold to his soldiers. Every
man who went on leave to the town was inspected
on his return. But drunken men gave trouble in
the camp, and it was discovered that brandy was
smuggled in the barrels of the muskets, and in yams,
hollowed out and innocently reposing at the bottom
of baskets.
Thereupon one morning Smithfield was in an
uproar, negroes screaming and running about with
pails to be filled, tipsy pigs staggering along the
streets. A squad of soldiers had been ordered out
from camp, had entered every store, and emptied
the contents of every cask into the gutters. A
drunken brawl had occurred in camp, and one
soldier had killed another!
The soldier was arrested and imprisoned. Later
the prisoner was tried and acquitted, his own
colonel argued in his defence, and completely
sobered, he made a good soldier. The prompt act
of the commanding officer was salutary. There was no
more trouble no more muskets loaded with in
flammable stuff, no more yams flavored with brandy.
When the colonel was attending the session of
Congress, Theo, not yet ten years old, was often
mounted on a barrel, in his little linen blouse, to
drill the Third Virginia ! He had studied military
tactics, Hardee and Jomini, with his father. Lying
before me as I write is his own copy of Jomini's
" L'Art de la Guerre," in which he proudly wrote his
name. An event of personal interest was the presen
tation to the colonel of a blue silken flag, made by
1 66 My Day
the ladies of Petersburg. The party came down the
river in a steamboat, and I have before my reminis
cent eyes an interesting picture of my colonel, as
he stood with his long hair waving in a stiff breeze,
listening to the brave things the dear women's
spokesman said of their devotion to him and to their
country. This flag is somewhere, to-day, in that
country, but not in the home of the man who had
earned and owned it. It is of heavy blue silk ; on
one side the arms of the state of Virginia, on the
other Justice with the scales. In the upper left-
hand corner is the word " Williamsburg," room
being left for the many other battles in store for
the young colonel.
Things were going on beautifully with us when I
one day received a peremptory official order to change
my base to leave Smithfield next morning before
daybreak ! The orderly who brought it to me
looked intensely surprised when I calmly said:
" Tell the colonel it is impossible ! I can't get
ready by to-morrow to leave."
" Madam," said the man, gravely, " it is none of
my business, but when Colonel Pryor gives an
order, it is wise to be a strict constructionist."
My colonel had returned suddenly ; when I, in
an open wagon, was on my way next morning at
sunrise to the nearest depot, he and his men were
en route to the peninsula. They gave McClellan
battle May 5 at Williamsburg, "Pryor and
Anderson in front," captured four hundred un-
wounded prisoners, ten colors, and twelve field-
pieces, slept on the field of battle, and marched off
My Day 167
next morning at their convenience. My colonel
personally ministered to the wounded prisoners, and
General McClellan recognizes this service in his
" own story." After this he was promoted, and my
bristling eagles retired before the risen stars of the
brigadier-general .
The news of his probable promotion reached me
at the Exchange Hotel in Richmond, whither I had
gone that I might be near headquarters and thus
learn the earliest tidings from the peninsula. There
he joined me for one day. We read with keen in
terest the announcement in the papers that his name
had been sent in by the President for promotion.
Mrs. Davis held a reception at the Spotswood Hotel
on the evening following this announcement, and
we availed ourselves of the opportunity to make our
respects to her.
A crowd gathered before the Exchange to con
gratulate my husband, and learning that he had
gone to the Spotswood, repaired thither, and with
shouts and cheers called him out for a speech. This
was very embarrassing, and he fled to a corner of
the drawing-room and hid behind a screen of plants.
I was standing near the President, trying to hold his
attention by remarks on the weather and kindred
subjects of a thrilling nature, when a voice from the
street called out : " Pryor ! General Pryor ! " I
could endure the suspense no longer, and asked
tremblingly, "Is this true, Mr. President?" Mr.
Davis looked at me with a benevolent smile and
said, " I have no reason, madam, to doubt it, except
that I saw it this morning in the papers;" and Mrs.
1 68 My Day
Davis at once summoned the bashful colonel :
" What are you doing lying there perdu behind the
geraniums ? Come out and take your honors."
Following fast upon the battle after which General
Johnston ordered " Williamsburg " to be painted on
his banner, my general fought the battle of "Fair
Oaks" or " Seven Pines" and in June the Seven
Days* battle around Richmond. The story of these
desperate battles has been told many times by the
generals who fought them. " Pryor's Brigade " was
in the front often ; in the thick of the fight always.
I myself saw my husband draw his sword, and give
the word of command "Head of column to the
right" as he entered the first of these battles.
I spent the time nursing the wounded in Kent
and Paine's Hospital in Richmond, and have told
elsewhere the pathetic story of my experience as
hospital nurse. For the needs of that stern hour
my dear general gave himself and his wife gave
herself. Every linen garment I possessed, except
one change, every garment of cotton fabric, all my
table-linen, all my bed-linen, even the chintz covers
for furniture, all were torn into strips and rolled
for bandages for the soldiers' wounds.
When the fight was over, a gray, haggard, dust-
covered soldier entered my room, and throwing him
self upon the couch, gave way to the anguish of his
heart "My men! My men! They are almost
all dead ! "
Thousands of Confederate soldiers were killed or
wounded. Richmond was saved ! " I am in
hopes," wrote General McClellan to his Secretary of
My Day 169
War, " the enemy is as completely worn out as I
am."
He was ! General Lee realized that his men must
have rest. My husband was allowed a few days' res
pite from duty. Almost without a pause he had
fought the battles of Williamsburg, Seven Pines,
Mechanicsville, Gaines's Mill, Frazier's Farm, and
Malvern Hill. He had won his promotion early,
but he had lost the soldiers he had led, the loved
commander who appreciated him, had seen old
schoolmates and friends fall by his side, the dear
fellow, George Loyal Gordon, who had been his best
man at our wedding, old college comrades, valued
old neighbors.
Opposed to him in battle, then and after, were
men who in after years avowed themselves his warm
friends, General Hancock, General Slocum, Gen
eral Butterfield, General Sickles, General Fitz-John
Porter, General McClellan, and General Grant.
They had fought loyally under opposing banners, and
from time to time, as the war went on, one and an
other had been defeated ; but over all, and through
all, their allegiance had been given to a banner that
has never surrendered, the standard of the uni
versal brotherhood of all true men.
I cannot omit a passing tribute to the heroic
fortitude and devotion of the Richmond women in
the time of their greatest trial. These were the
delicate, beautiful women I had so admired when I
lived among them. Not once did they spare them
selves, or complain, or evince weakness, or give way
to despair. The city had " no language but a cry."
1 70 My Day
Two processions unceasingly passed along the streets ;
one the wounded borne from the battlefield ; the
other the cheering men going to take their places
at the front. Within the hospitals all that devotion
could suggest, of unselfish service, gentle ministra
tion, encouragement, was done by the dear women.
Every house was open for the sick and wounded.
Oh, but I cannot again tell it all ! Sacredly, ten
derly I remember, but to-day it seems so cruel, so
unnecessary, so wicked ! I cannot dwell upon it !
One beautiful memory is of the unfailing kindness
and loyalty of the negroes. In the hospitals, in the
camps, in our own houses, they faithfully sympa
thized with us and helped us. Not only at this
time, but all during the war, they behaved admir
ably. The most intense secessionist I ever knew
was my general's man, John. Early in the day the
black man elected for himself an attitude of quies
cence as to politics, and addressed himself to the
present need for self-preservation.
It was " Domingo," one of the cooks of our
brigade at Williamsburg, that originated the humor
ous description of a negro's self-appraisement and
sensations in battle, so unblushingly quoted after
ward by a certain " Caesar" in northern Virginia.
A shell had entered the domain of pots and kettles,
and created what Domingo termed a " clatteration."
He at once started for the rear.
" What's de matter, Mingo ? " asked a fellow-
servant, " whar you gwine wid such a hurrification ? "
" I gwine to git out o' trouble dar whar I gwine !
Dar's too much powder in dem big things. Dis
My Day 171
chile ain't gwine bu'n hisself ! An' dar's dem Min
nie bullets, too, comin' frew de a'r, singin' : ( Whar
is you ? Whar is you ? ' I ain't gwine stop an'
tell 'em whar I is ! I'se a twenty-two-hundurd-
dollar nigger, an' I'se gwine tek keer o' what
b'longs to marster, I is ! "
A story was related by a Northern writer of an
interview with a negro who had run the blockade
and entered the service of a Federal officer. He
was met on board a steamer, after the battle of
Fort Donelson, on his way to the rear, and ques
tioned in regard to his experience of war.
" Were you in the fight ? "
" Had a little taste of it, sah."
"Stood your ground, of course."
"No, sah! I run."'
" Not at the first fire ? "
" Yes, sah ! an' would a' run sooner ef I knowed
it was a-comin' ! "
"Why, that wasn't very creditable to your cour
age, was it ? "
" Dat ain't in my line, sah, cookin's my per-
feshun."
" But have you no regard for your reputa
tion?"
" Refutation's nothin' by de side o' life."
" But you don't consider your life worth more
than other people's, do you ? "
" Hit's wuth mo' to me, sah ! "
"Then you must value it very highly."
"Yas, sah, I does, mo'n all dis wuld ! Mo'
dan a million o' dollars, sah. What would dat be
172 My Day
wuth to a man wid de bref out o' 'im ? Self-per-
serbashun is de fust law wid me, sah ! "
" But why should you act upon a different rule
from other men ? "
" 'Cause diffunt man set diffunt value 'pon his
life. Mine ain't in de market."
" Well, if all soldiers were like you, traitors
might have broken up the government without
resistance."
" Dat's so ! Dar wouldn't 'a' been no hep fer it.
But I don't put my life in de scale against no gub-
berment on dis yearth. No gubberment gwine pay
me ef I loss mehsef."
" Well, do you think you would have been much
missed if you had been killed ? "
" Maybe not, sah ! A daid white man ain'
much use to dese yere sogers, let alone a daid nig-
gah ; but I'd a missed mehsef pow'ful, an' dat's de
pint wid me."
CHAPTER XIX
ON the ijth of August, 1862, McClellan aban
doned his camp at Harrison's Landing and
retired to Fortress Monroe. General Lee
withdrew all his troops from Richmond but two
companies of infantry left behind to protect the
city in case of cavalry raids. General Jackson
joined General Lee, and the battle known as the
second Manassas was fought. Wilcox, Pryor, and
Featherstone were again to the front, and at one
time when the desperate struggle of this hard-fought
battle was at its height, and the situation augured
adversely to the Southern troops, it was General
Pryor's privilege to suggest that several batteries
should be rushed to an advantageous position and a
raking fire be opened upon the enemy's flank which
nothing could withstand. Within fifteen minutes
the aspect of the field was changed. On the plateau
occupied by the Federals stood the Henry house,
celebrated in all history as the spot where Jackson's
Brigade, " standing like a stone wall," had, a year
before, earned the name for their commander which
has become immortal.
I think it was early in September, 1862, that Gen
eral Lee announced to President Davis that he pro
posed entering Maryland with his army. Before he
could receive an answer the Southerners were crossing
173
174 My Day
the Potomac singing " Maryland, my Maryland,"
and in a few days Jackson reached Frederick. " My
Maryland " was earnestly invited and positively de
clined to rid her " shores " of " the despot's heel."
The despot's hand could pay in good greenbacks for
her wheat and flour and cattle, while these new fel
lows had only Confederate money. The governor
and leading professional men were all loyal to the
Union. The farmers drove their herds into Penn
sylvania, and in the mills the sound of the grinding
was not low it ceased altogether. The Confed
erates might defeat Pope and McClellan in the
battle-field ; the farmer proved himself master of the
situation in the wheat-field.
My general was in Frederick with his brigade,
and incidentally saw and heard nothing of the touch
ing occurrence commemorated by Whittier. The
Quaker poet was a romancer ! I use no harsher
term. I am perfectly willing Barbara Frietchie's
" old gray head " should forever wear the crown he
placed upon it, but I cannot brook " the blush of
shame " over Stonewall Jackson's face. Blush he
often did, for he was as delicate as a woman,
but blush for shame, never! Rhodes says : "His
riding through the streets gave an occasion to forge
the story of Barbara Frietchie. It is a token of the
intense emotion which clouds our judgment of the
enemy in arms. Although Stonewall Jackson, not
long before, was eager to raise the black flag, he was
incapable of giving the order to fire at the window
of a private house for the sole reason that there ' the
old flag met his sight/ and it is equally impossible
My Day 175
that a remark of old Dame Barbara, c Spare your
country's flag/ could have brought ' a blush of
shame ' to his cheek. Jackson was not of the
cavalier order, but he had a religious and chivalrous
respect for women." He goes on to state that a
woman, not Barbara Frietchie, waved a flag as Jack
son passed to which he paid no attention. Also,
that when he had passed through Middletown, two
pretty girls had waved Union flags in his face.
" He bowed and raised his hat, and turning with his
quiet smile to his staff, said : c We evidently have
no friends in this town/ '
On September 15 the battle-line, with my hus
band's division (Longstreet's), was drawn up in
front of Sharpsburg (or Antietam), and again Pryor,
Wilcox, and Featherstone were well to the front.
My husband commanded Anderson's division at
Antietam, General Anderson having been wounded.
This battle is quoted, along with the battle of Seven
Pines, as one of the most hotly contested of the war.
Sorely pressed at one time, General Pryor de
spatched an orderly to General Longstreet with a
request for artillery. The latter tore the margin
from a newspaper and wrote : "I am sending you
the guns, dear General. This is a hard fight, and we
had better all die than lose it." At one time during
the battle the combatants agreed upon a brief cessa
tion, that the dead and wounded of both sides
might be removed. While General Pryor waited, a
Federal officer approached him.
" General," said he, " I have just detected one of
my men in robbing the body of one of your sol-
176 My Day
diers. I have taken his booty from him, and now
consign it to you."
Without examining the small bundle tied in a
handkerchief my husband ordered it to be prop
erly enclosed and sent to me. The handkerchief
contained a gold watch, a pair of gold sleeve-links,
a few pieces of silver, and a strip of paper on which
was written, " Strike till the last armed foe expires,"
and signed " A Florida Patriot." There seemed to
be no clew by which I might hope to find an inheri
tor for these treasures. I could only take care of
them.
I brought them forth one day to interest an aged
relative, whose chair was placed in a sunny window.
" I think, my dear," she said, " there are pin-
scratched letters on the inside of these sleeve-but
tons." Sure enough, there were three initials,
rudely made, but perfectly plain.
Long afterward I met a Confederate officer from
Florida who had fought at Antietam.
" Did you know any one from your state, Cap
tain, who was killed at Sharpsburg ? "
" Alas ! yes," he replied, and mentioned a name
corresponding exactly with the scratched initials.
The parcel, with a letter from me, was sent to an
address he gave me, and in due time I received a
most touching letter of thanks from the mother of the
dead soldier.
In August I had left my Gordon, Theo, and
Mary with my dear aunt, who had been compelled to
abandon her mountain home and now lived near cc The
Oaks" in Charlotte County. There was no safety
My Day 177
any longer except in the interior, far from the
railroads. Even there raiding companies of cavalry
dashed through the country bringing terror and
leaving a desert as far as food was concerned.
For myself, as I could not go northward with
my soldiers, I could at least keep within the lines of
communication, and I selected a little summer resort,
" Coyners," in the Blue Ridge Mountains on the
line of the railroad. There I found General Elzey,
who had fought gallantly at Bull Run and else
where, with his face terribly wounded and bandaged
up to his eyes. He had been sent to the rear with
a physician for rest and recovery. His brilliant
wife was with him ; also his aid, Captain Contee, and
his young bride, who had crossed the Potomac in
an open boat to join him and redeem her pledge to
marry him. We were joined by Mrs. A. P. Hill,
General and Mrs. Wigfall and a lovely daughter
who has recently given to the world an interesting
story of her war recollections. The small hotel
spanned a little green valley at its head, and stretch
ing behind was a velvet strip of green, a spring and
rivulet in the midst, and a mountain ridge on either
side. I had a tiny cottage with windows that
opened against the side of the hill (or mountain),
and lying on my bed at night, the moon and stars, as
they rose above me, seemed so near I could have
stretched a long arm and picked them off the hill
top !
Strenuous as were the times, awful the suspense,
the vexed questions of precedence, relative impor
tance, rankled in the bosoms of the distinguished
178 My Day
ladies in the hotel. One after another would come
out to me : " I'd like to know who this Maryland
woman is that she gives herself such airs ; " or,
" How much longer do you think I'll stand Dolly
Morgan ? Why, she treats me as though she were
the Queen of Sheba." I could only reply with be
coming meekness : " I'm sure I don't know ! I am
only a brigadier, you know the rest of you are
major-generals I am not competent to judge."
Nature had done everything for our happiness.
The climate was delicious ; the valley was carpeted
with moss and tender grass, and thickly gemmed
with daisies and purple asters. Before sunrise the
skies, like all morning skies seen between high hills,
looked as if made of roses. A short climb would
bring us to a spot where the evening sky and
mountain would be bathed in golden glory. But
oh, the anguish of anxiety, the terror, the dreams at
night of battle and murder and sudden death !
My little Roger was desperately ill at this place,
and for many days I despaired of his life. General
Elzey's physician gave me no hope. He counselled
only fortitude and resignation. The dear friend
of my girlhood, George Wythe Randolph, was
Secretary of War. I wrote him a letter imploring,
" Send my husband to me, if but for one hour."
He answered, " God knows I long to help and
comfort you ! but you ask the impossible." I soon
knew why. My general was at the front !
Not until late long after every guest had de
parted was I able to travel with my invalid son.
Upon arriving in Charlottesville, he had a relapse of
My Day 179
typhoid fever and was ill unto death for many
weeks. Meanwhile his father was ordered to the
vicinity of Suffolk to collect forage and provisions
from counties near the Federal lines.
The enemy destined to conquer us at last
the "ravenous, hunger-starved wolf" already
menaced us. General Longstreet had learned that
corn and bacon were stored in the northeastern
counties of North Carolina, and he sent two compa
nies of cavalry on a foraging expedition to the region
around Suffolk.
" The Confederate lines," says a historian, " ex
tended only to the Blackwater River on the east,
where a body of Confederate troops was stationed
to keep the enemy in check." That body was
commanded by General Pryor, now in front of a
large Federal force to keep it in check while the
wagon trains sent off corn and bacon for Lee's army.
This was accomplished by sleepless vigilance on the
part of the Confederate general. The Federal
forces made frequent sallies from Suffolk, but were
always driven back with loss. It is amusing to
read of the calmness with which his commanding
officers ordered him to accomplish great things with
his small force.
" I cannot," says General Colston, " forward your
requisition for two regiments of infantry and one of
cavalry : it is almost useless to make such requisi
tions, for they remain unanswered. You must use
every possible means to deceive the enemy as to your
strength, and you must hold the line of the Black-
water to the last extremity"
180 My Day
General French writes : " If I had any way to
increase your forces, I should do so, but I have to
bow to higher authority and the necessities of the
service. But you must annoy the villains all you
can, and make them uncomfortable. Give them no
rest. Ambush them at every turn."
General Pryor did not dream I would come to
his camp at Blackwater. He supposed I would find
quarters among my friends, but I had now no
home. Our venerable father had sent his family to
the interior after the battles around Richmond, had
given up his church in Petersburg, and, commending
the women, old men, and children to the care of a
successor, had entered the army as chaplain, " where,"
as he said, " I can follow my own church members
and comfort them in sickness, if I can do no more."
As soon as the position of our brigade was made
known to me, I drew forth the box containing the
camp outfit, packed a trunk or two, and took the
cars for the Blackwater. The terminus of the rail
road was only a few miles from our camp. The
Confederate train could go no farther because of the
enemy. The day's journey was long, for the pas
senger car attached to the transportation train was
dependent upon the movements of the latter. The
few passengers who had set forth with me in the
morning had left at various wayside stations, and I
was now alone. I had no idea where we should
sleep that night. I thought I would manage it
somehow somewhere.
We arrived at twilight at the end of our journey.
When I left the car, my little boys gathered around
My Day 181
me. There was a small wooden building near, which
served for waiting-room and post-office. The only
dwelling in sight was another small house, sur
rounded by a few bare trees. My first impression
was that I had never before seen such an expanse of
gray sky. The face of the earth was a dead, bare
level, as far as the eye could reach ; and much, very
much, of it lay under water. I was in the region of
swamps, stretching on and on until they culminated
in the one great " Dismal Swamp " of the country.
No sounds were to be heard, no hum of industry or
lowing of cattle, but a mighty concert rose from
thousands, nay millions, of frogs.
" Now," thought I, " here is really a fine opportu
nity to be c jolly ' ! Mark Tapley's swamps couldn't
surpass these." But all the railroad folk were de
parting, and the postmaster was preparing to lock his
door and leave also. I liked the looks of the little
man, and ventured :
" Can you tell me, sir, where I can get lodging
to-night? I am Mrs. Pryor the general's wife,
and to-morrow he will take care of me."
My little man did not belie his looks. He took
me in his own house, and next day my general, at
his invitation, made the house his headquarters.
My stay on the Blackwater was most interesting,
but I cannot repeat the story here. Suffice it to say
that our safety so near the enemy's lines he was
just across the Blackwater was purchased by
eternal vigilance.
Towards the last of January we had a season of
warm, humid weather. Apparently the winter was
1 82 My Day
over ; the grass was springing on the swamp, green
and luxurious, and the willows swelling into bud.
There were no singing birds on the Blackwater as
early as January 28, but the frogs were mightily ex
ercised upon the coming of spring, and their nightly
concerts took on a jubilant note.
One day I had a few moments' conversation with
my husband about army affairs, and he remarked
that our Southern soldiers were always restless un
less they were in action. " They never can stand
still in battle," he said ; " they are willing to yell
and charge the most desperate positions, but if they
can't move forward, they must move backward.
Stand still they cannot."
I thought I could perceive symptoms of restless
ness on the part of their commander. Often in the
middle of the night he would summon John, mount
him, and send him to camp, a short distance away*;
and presently I would hear the tramp, tramp of the
general's staff-officers, coming to hold a council of
war in his bedroom. On the 28th of January he
confided to me that on the next day he would make
a sally in the direction of the enemy. " He is get
ting entirely too impudent," said he; "I'm not
strong enough to drive him out of the country, but
he must keep his place."
I had just received a present of coffee. This was
at once roasted and ground. On the day of the
march fires were kindled before dawn under the
great pots used at the " hog-killing time " (an era
in the household), and many gallons of coffee were
prepared. This was sweetened, and when our men
My Day 183
paused near the house to form the line of march,
the servants and little boys passed down the line
with buckets of the steaming coffee, cups, dippers,
and gourds. Every soldier had a good draught of
comfort and cheer. The weather had suddenly
changed. The great snow-storm that fell in a few
days was gathering, the skies were lowering, and the
horizon was dark and threatening.
After the men had marched away, I drove to the
hospital tent and put myself at the disposal of the
surgeon. We inspected the store of bandages and
lint, and I was intrusted with the preparation of more.
Meanwhile John, who was left behind, indemni
fied himself for the loss of the excitement of the
hour by abusing " the nasty abolition Yankees,"
singing :
"Jeff Davis is a gent'man,
An' Linkum is a fool !
Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse,
An* Linkum rides a mule/' etc.
He was not the only one of the nation's wards
who held the nation in contempt root and branch,
President and people. The special terms in which
he loved to designate them were in common use
among his own race. Some of the expressions of
the great men I had known in Washington were
quite as offensive and not a bit less inelegant, al
though framed in better English. I never approved
of " calling names," for higher reasons than the de
mands of good taste. I had seen what comes of it,
and I reproved John for teaching them to my little
boys.
184 My Day
" No'm," said John, crestfallen, " I won't say
nothin' ; I'll just say the Yankees are mighty mean
folks."
My dear general found the enemy at the " De
serted House " ; and there gave them battle. He
may tell his own story :
" CARRSVILLE, ISLE OF WIGHT, January 30, 1863.
u To BRIGADIER-GENERAL COLSTON,
" PETERSBURG, VA.
" General : This morning at four o'clock the enemy under
Major-general Peck attacked me at Kelley's store, eight
miles from Suffolk. After three hours' severe fighting we
repulsed them at all points and held the field. Their force
is represented by prisoners to be between ten and fifteen
thousand. My loss in killed and wounded will not exceed
fifty no prisoners. I regret that Colonel Poage is among
the killed. We inflicted a heavy loss on the enemy.
" Repectfully,
u ROGER A. PRYOR,
" Brigadier-general Commanding."
On February 2 the general thus addressed his
troops :
" The brigadier-general congratulates the troops of
this command on the results of the recent combat.
u The enemy endeavored under cover of night to steal
an inglorious victory by surprise, but he found us prepared
at every point, and despite his superior numbers, greater
than your own in the proportion of five to one, he was
signally repulsed and compelled to leave us in possession of
the field.
" After silencing his guns and dispersing his infantry,
you remained on the field from night until one o'clock,
My Day 185
awaiting the renewal of the attack, but he did not again
venture to encounter your terrible fire.
" When the disparity of force between the parties is
considered, with the proximity of the enemy to his strong
hold, and his facilities of reinforcements by railway, the re
sult of the action of the 3Oth will be accepted as a splendid
illustration of your courage and good conduct."
One of the " enemy's " papers declared that our
force was " three regiments of infantry, fourteen
pieces of artillery, and about nine hundred cavalry ! "
The temptation to " lie under a mistake " was
great in those days of possible disaffection, when
soldiers had to believe in their cause in order to de
fend it. One of the newspaper correspondents of
the enemy explained why we were not again attacked
after the first fight. He said: "Some may inquire
why we did not march forthwith to Carrsville and
attack the rebels again. The reasons are obvious.
Had he went [sic] to Carrsville, Pry or would have
had the advantage to cut off our retreat. The na
tives know every by-path and blind road through
the woods and are ever ready to help the rebels to
our detriment. Pryor can always cross the Black-
water on his floating bridge. It is prudent to allow
an enemy to get well away from his stronghold the
better to capture his guns and destroy his ammuni
tion," etc.
Another paper declares he was heavily reenforced
at Carrsville.
Another records: "The rebels have been very
bold in this neighborhood. Pryor has been in the
habit of crossing the Blackwater River whenever he
1 86 My Day
wanted to. Our attacking him this time must have
been a real surprise to him. We took a large num
ber of prisoners ! "
He continued the indulgence of this habit until
spring, receiving from his countrymen unstinted
praise for his protection of that part of our state,
and for the generous supplies he sent all winter to
Lee's army.
CHAPTER XX
AS for myself, when my general was no longer
needed on the Blackwater, the camp chest and
I and the little boys took the road again.
We wandered from place to place, and at last were
taken as boarders, invited by a farmer, evidently
without the consent of his wife. There I was, of
all women made most miserable. The mistress of
the house had not wanted " refugees." Everything
combined to my discomfort and wretchedness, and
my dear general, making me a flying visit from
Richmond where he was detained on duty, coun
selled me to go still farther into the interior to an
old watering place, the " Amelia Springs " kept by
a dear Virginia woman, Mrs. Winn. I had no
sooner arrived and been welcomed by a number of
refugee women, and a host of children when my
three little boys developed whooping-cough, and
were strictly quarantined in a cottage at the extreme
edge of the grounds. The little hotel and cottages
were filled with agreeable women, but everything
was so sad, there was no heart in any one for
gayety of any kind. One evening the proprietor
proposed that the ballroom be lighted and a soli
tary fiddler, " Bozeman," who was also the bar
ber, be installed in the musician's seat and show
us what he could do. Young feet cannot resist a
good waltz or polka, and the floor was soon filled
187
1 88 My Day
with care-forgetting maidens there were no men
except the proprietor and the fiddler. Presently a
telegram was received by the former. We huddled
together under the chandelier to read it. Vicks-
burg had fallen ! The gallant General Pemberton
had been starved into submission. Surely and swiftly
the coil was tightening around us. Surely and
swiftly would we, too, be starved into submission.
My general was in Richmond serving on a
court-martial, when the news from Gettysburg
reached the city. Every house was in mourning,
every heart broken. He called upon President and
Mrs. Davis, and was told that the President could
receive no one, but that Mrs. Davis would be glad
to see him. The weather was intensely hot, and he
felt he must not inflict a long visit ; but when he
rose to leave, Mrs. Davis, who seemed unwilling to
be left alone, begged him to remain. After a few
minutes the President appeared, weary, silent, and
depressed. Presently a dear little boy entered in
his night-robe, and kneeling beside his father's
knee, repeated his evening prayer of thankfulness
and of supplication for God's blessing on the coun
try. The President laid his hand on the boy's head
and fervently responded, " Amen." The scene re
curred vividly, in the light of future events, to my
husband's memory. With the coming day came
the news of the surrender of Vicksburg, news of
which Mr. Davis had been forewarned the evening
before, and already the Angel of Death was hover
ing near to enfold the beautiful boy and bear him
away from a world of trouble.
My Day 189
The long, sultry nights were spent by me in
nursing my little boys through their distressing
whooping-cough paroxysms. I was sleeping after
a wakeful night, when I heard, as in a dream,
my dear general's voice. I opened my heavy eyes
to see him seated beside me. He earnestly en
treated me to bear with patience the news he
brought me first that he must return in an hour
to catch a train back to Richmond, and then that
he had resigned his commission as brigadier-gen
eral and was en route to join General Fitz Lee's cav
alry as a private. I have told the story of the
events which culminated in this unprecedented act
of a brigadier-general, and I fear I have not time or
space to repeat it here. Briefly, Congress having
recommended that regiments should be enlisted under
officers from their own states, in order to remedy,
if possible, the disinclination to reenlist for the war,
there was a general upheaval and change through
out the entire army during the autumn of 1862.
The Second, Fifth, and Eighth Florida regiments of
General Pryor's Brigade were assigned to a Florida
brigadier, the Fourteenth Alabama and the Fifth
North Carolina to officers from their respective
states. He was, in consequence of this order of
Congress, left without a brigade. He was posi
tively assured of a permanent command. " I re
gretted," wrote General Lee, November 25, 1862,
" at the time, the breaking up of your brigade, but
you are aware that the circumstances which produced
it were beyond my control. I hope it will not be
long before you will be again in the field, that the
My Day
country may derive the benefit of your zeal and
activity." He had a right to expect reward for his
splendid service on the Blackwater. He had never
ceased all winter to remind the Secretary of War of
his promise to give him a permanent command.
He felt that he had earned it. He had fought
many battles, Williamsburg, Seven Pines, Me-
chanicsville, Gaines's Mill, Frazier's Farm, the
second Manassas, and Sharpsburg, besides the
fight at the Deserted House on the Blackwater.
He now wrote, April 6, 1 863, an almost passionate
appeal to the President himself, imploring that he be
sent into active service, and not be " denied partici
pation in the struggles that are soon to determine
the destinies of my country. If I know myself," he
added, " it is not the vanity of command that moves
me to this appeal. A single and sincere wish to
contribute somewhat to the success of our cause
impels me to entreat that I may be assigned to duty.
That my position is not the consequence of any
default of mine you will be satisfied by the enclosed
letter from General Lee." The letter was followed
by new promises. It was supplemented by General
Pryor's fellow-officers, who not only urged that the
country should not lose his services, but designated
certain regiments which might easily be assigned to
him. The President wrote courteous letters in reply,
always repeating assurances of esteem, etc., and con
tinuing to give brigades to newer officers. The
Richmond Examiner and other papers now began to
notice the matter and present General Pryor as
arrayed with the party against the administration.
My Day 191
This being untrue, he was magnanimous enough to
contradict. On March 17, 1863, the President
wrote to him the following:
" GENERAL ROGER A. PRYOR :
" General : Your gratifying letter on the i6th inst.,
referring to an article in the Examiner newspaper which
seems to associate you with the opposition to the admin
istration, has been received.
" I did not see the article in question, but I am glad it
had led to an expression so agreeable. The good opinion
of one so competent to judge of public affairs, and who has
known me so long and closely, is a great support in the
midst of many and arduous trials.
" Very respectfully and truly yours,
"JEFFERSON DAVIS."
Among the letters sent to Mr. Davis in General
Pryor's behalf was one from General Lee and one
from General Jackson, both of which unhappily re
mained in the President's possession, no copies hav
ing been kept by General Pryor.
As time went on, my husband waited with such
patience as he could command. Finally he resigned
his commission as brigadier-general and also his seat
in Congress, and entered General Fitzhugh Lee's
cavalry as a private soldier. His resignation was
held a long time by the President, " in the hope it
would be reconsidered," and repeatedly General
Pryor was " assured of the President's esteem," etc.
General Jackson, General Longstreet, General A. P.
Hill, General D. H. Hill, General Wilcox, General
George Pickett, General Beauregard, were all his
1 92 My Day
devoted friends. Some of them had, like General
Johnston and General McClellan, similar experience.
It was a bitter hour for me when my general fol
lowed me to the Amelia Springs with news that
he had entered the cavalry as a private. " Stay
with me and the children," I implored.
" No," he said, " I had something to do with
bringing on this war. I must give myself to
Virginia. She needs the help of all her sons. If
there are too many brigadier-generals in the service,
it may be so, certain it is there are not enough
private soldiers."
But his hour had passed. He kissed his sleep
ing boys and hurried off to the stage that was to take
him to the depot. There John was waiting with his
horses (he never accepted anything but a soldier's
ration from the government), and they were off to
join Fitzhugh Lee.
The Divinity that " rules our ends, rough hew
them as we may," was guiding him. I look back
with gratitude to these circumstances, then so
hard to bear, circumstances to which, I am per
suaded, I owe my husband's life. Even were it
otherwise, God forbid I should admit into my bosom
hard thoughts of any man.
General Lee welcomed him in hearty fashion :
" HEADQUARTERS, August 26, 1863.
" Honorable, General, or Mr. : How shall I address
you ? Damn it, there's no difference ! Come up to see
me. Whilst I regret the causes that induced you to resign
your position, I am glad that the country has not lost your
My Day 193
active services, and that your choice to serve her has been
cast in one of my regiments.
" Very respectfully,
" FITZ LEE."
As a common soldier in the cavalry service,
General Pryor was assigned the duties of his posi
tion, from not one of which did he ever excuse
himself.
Having no longer a home of my own, it was
decided that I should go to my people in Charlotte
County. One of my sons, Theo, and two of my
little daughters were already there, and there I ex
pected to remain until the end of the war.
But repeated attempts to reach my country home
resulted in failure. Marauding parties and guerillas
were flying all over the country. There had been
alarm at a bridge over the Staunton near "The Oaks/'
and the old men and boys had driven away the
enemy. I positively could not venture alone.
So it was decided that I should return to my
husband's old district, to Petersburg, and there find
board in some private family.
I reached Petersburg in the autumn and wandered
about for days seeking refuge in some household.
Many of my old friends had left town. Strangers
and refugees had rented the houses of some of these,
while others were filled with the homeless among
their own kindred. There was no room anywhere for
me, and my small purse was growing so slender
that I became anxious. Finally my brother-in-law of
fered me an overseer's house on one of his " quarters."
194 My Day
The small dwelling he placed at my disposal was to
be considered temporary only ; some one of his town
houses might soon be vacant. When I drove out to
the little house, I found it hardly better than a hovel.
We entered a rude, unplastered kitchen, the planks
of the floor loose and wide apart, the earth beneath
plainly visible. There were no windows in this
smoke-blackened kitchen. A door opened into a
tiny room with a fireplace, window, and out-door
of its own ; and a short flight of stairs led to an
unplastered attic, so that the little apartment was
entered by two doors and a staircase. It was already
cold, but we had to beat a hasty retreat and sit out
side while a negro boy made a " smudge " in the
house, to dislodge the wasps that had tenanted it
for many months. My brother had lent me
bedding for the overseer's pine bedstead and the
low trundle-bed underneath. The latter, when
drawn out at night, left no room for us to stand.
When that was done, we had all to go to bed. For
furniture we had only two or three wooden chairs
and a small table. There were no curtains, neither
carpet nor rugs, and no china. There was wood at the
woodpile, and a little store of meal and rice, with a
small bit of bacon in the overseer's grimy closet.
This was to be my winter home.
Petersburg was already virtually in a state of
siege. Not a tithe of the food needed for its army
of refugees could be brought to the city. Our
highway, the river, was filled, except for a short dis
tance, with Federal gunboats. The markets had
long been closed. The stores of provisions had
My Day 195
been exhausted, so that a grocery could offer little
except a barrel or two of molasses made from the
domestic sorghum sugar-cane, an acrid and unwhole
some sweet used instead of sugar for drink with
water or milk and for eating with bread. The
little boys at once began to keep house. They
valiantly attacked the woodpile, and found favor
in the eyes of Mary and the man, whom I never
knew as other than " Mary's husband." He and
Mary were left in charge of the quarter and had a
cabin near us.
I had no books, no newspapers, no means of
communicating with the outside world ; but I had
one neighbor, Mrs. Laighton, a daughter of Wins
ton Henry, granddaughter of Patrick Henry. She
lived near me with her husband a Northern man.
Both were very cultivated, very poor, very kind.
Mrs. Laighton, as Lucy Henry, a brilliant young
girl, I had last seen at one of her mother's
gay house-parties in Charlotte County. We had
much in common, and her kind heart went out in
love and pity for me. Her talk was a tonic to me.
It stimulated me to play my part with courage, seeing
I had been deemed worthy, by the God who made
me, to suffer in this sublime struggle for liberty.
She was as truly gifted as was ever her illustrious
grandfather. To hear her was to believe, so per
suasive and convincing was her eloquence.
I had not my good Eliza Page this winter. She
had fallen ill. I had a stout little black girl, Julia,
as my only servant; but Mary had a friend, a
" corn-field hand," " Anarchy," who managed to
196 My Day
help me at odd hours. Mrs. Laighton sent me
every morning a print of butter as large as a silver
dollar, with two or three perfect biscuits, and some
times a bowl of persimmons or stewed dried peaches.
She had a cow, and churned every day, making her
biscuits of the buttermilk, which was much too pre
cious to drink.
A great snow-storm overtook us a day or two be
fore Christmas. My little boys kindled a roaring
fire in the cold, open kitchen, roasted chestnuts, and
set traps for the rabbits and "snowbirds/* which
never entered them. They made no murmur at the
bare Christmas ; they were loyal little fellows to
their mother. My day had been spent in mend
ing their garments, making them was a privilege
denied me, for I had no materials. I was not " all
unhappy ! " The rosy cheeks at my fireside con
soled me for my privations, and something within
me proudly rebelled against weakness or complain
ing.
The flakes were falling thickly at midnight on
Christmas Eve when I suddenly became very ill.
I sent out for Mary's husband and bade him gallop
in to Petersburg, three miles distant, and fetch me
Dr. Withers. I was dreadfully ill when he arrived,
and as he stood at the foot of my bed, I said to
him : " It doesn't matter much for me, Doctor !
But my husband will be grateful if you keep me
alive."
When I awoke from a long sleep, he was still
standing at the foot of my bed where I had left him
it seemed to me ages ago ! I put out my hand
My Day 197
and it touched a little warm bundle beside me.
God had given me a dear child !
The doctor spoke to me gravely and most kindly.
" I must leave you now," he said, " and, alas ! I
cannot come again. There are so many, so many
sick. Call all your courage to your aid. Remem
ber the pioneer women, and all they were able to
survive. This woman," indicating Anarchy, " is a
field-hand, but she is a mother, and she has agreed
to help you during the Christmas holidays her
own time. And now, God bless you, and good-by ! "
I soon slept again, and when I awoke, the very
Angel of Strength and Peace had descended and
abode with me. I resolved to prove to myself that
if I was called to be a great woman, I could be a
great woman. Looking at me from my bedside
were my two little boys. They had been taken the
night before across - the snow-laden fields to my
brother's house, but had risen at daybreak and had
" come home to take care " of me !
My little maid Julia left me Christmas morning.
She said it was too lonesome, and her " mistis "
always let her choose her own places. I engaged
"Anarchy " at twenty-five dollars a week for all her
nights. But her hands, knotted by work in the
fields, were too rough to touch my babe. I was
propped up on pillows and dressed her myself, some
times fainting when the exertion was over.
I was still in my bed three weeks afterward, when
one of my boys ran in, exclaiming in a frightened
voice, " Oh, mamma, an old gray soldier is coming
in!"
198 My Day
He stood this old gray soldier and looked
at me, leaning on his sabre.
" Is this the reward my country gives me ? " he
said ; and not until he spoke did I recognize my
husband. Turning on his heel, he went out, and I
heard him call :
" John ! John ! Take those horses into town
and sell them ! Do not return until you do so
sell them for anything! Get a cart and bring butter,
eggs, and everything you can find for Mrs. Pryor's
comfort."
He had been with Fitz Lee on that dreadful
tramp through the snow after Averill. He had
suffered cold and hunger, had slept on the ground
without shelter, sharing his blanket with John. He
had used his own horses, and now if the government
needed him, the government might mount him. He
had no furlough, and soon reported for duty ; but
not before he had moved us, early in January, into
town one of my brother-in-law's houses having
been vacated at the beginning of the year. John
knew his master too well to construe him literally,
and had reserved the fine gray, Jubal Early, for his
use. That I might not again fall into the sad plight
in which he had found me, he purchased three hun
dred dollars in gold, and instructed me to prepare a
girdle to be worn all the time around my waist, con
cealed by my gown. The coins were quilted in ;
each had a separate section to itself, so that with
scissors I might extract one at a time without dis
turbing the rest.
CHAPTER XXI
EARLY in June the two armies of Grant and
Lee confronted each other at Petersburg. My
dear general had bidden a silent and most
sad farewell to his little family and gone forth to
join his company, when my father entered with great
news. " I have just met General Lee in the street."
" Passing through ? " I asked. " Not at all ! The
lines are established just here and filled with his
veterans." My general soon reentered joyfully.
He would now be on duty near us.
The next Sunday a shell fell in the Presbyterian
Church opposite our house. From that moment
we were shelled at intervals, and very severely.
There were no soldiers in the city. Women were
killed on the lower streets, and an exodus from the
shelled districts commenced at once.
As soon as the enemy brought up his siege guns
of heavy artillery, they opened on the city with shell
without the slightest notice, or without giving op
portunity for the removal of non-combatants, the
sick, the wounded, or the women and children.
The fire was at first directed toward the Old Market,
presumably because of the railroad depot situated
there, about which the soldiers might be supposed
to collect. But the guns soon enlarged their opera
tions, sweeping all the streets in the business part of
the city, and then invading the residential region.
199
200 My Day
The steeples of the churches seemed to afford targets
for their fire, all of them coming in finally for a
share of the compliment.
To persons unfamiliar with the infernal noise
made by the screaming, ricocheting, and bursting of
shells, it is impossible to convey an adequate idea
of the terror and demoralization which ensued.
Some families who could not leave the besieged city
dug holes in the ground, five or six feet deep, cov
ered with heavy timber banked over with earth,
the entrance facing opposite the batteries from which
the shells were fired. They made these bomb-
proofs safe, at least, and thither the family repaired
when heavy shelling commenced. General Lee
seemed to recognize that no part of the city was safe,
for he immediately ordered the removal of all the
hospitals, under the care of Petersburg's esteemed
physician, Dr. John Herbert Claiborne. There
were three thousand sick and wounded, many of
them too ill to be moved. Everything that could
run on wheels, from a dray to a wheelbarrow, was
pressed into service by the fleeing inhabitants of the
town. A long, never ending line passed my door
until there were no more to pass.
The spectacle fascinated my children, and they
lived in the open watching it. One day my little
friend Nannie with my baby, nearly as large as her
self, in her arms, stood at the gate when a shell fell
some distance from them. A mounted officer drew
rein and accosted her. " Whose children are
these?"
" This is Charles Campbell's daughter/' said little
My Day 201
Nannie, "and this" indicating the baby "is
General Pryor's child."
"Run home with General Pryor's baby, little
girl, away from the shells," he said, and turning as
he rode off, " My love to your father. I'm coming
to see him."
" Who is that man ? " little Nannie inquired of a
bystander.
" Why, don't you know ? That's General
Lee!"
We soon learned the peculiar deep boom of the
one great gun which bore directly upon us. The
boys named it " Long Tom." Sometimes for several
weeks "Long Tom" rested or slept and would
then make up for lost time. And yet we yielded
to no panic. The children seemed to understand
that it would be cowardly to complain. One little
girl cried out with fright at an explosion, but her
aunt, Mrs. Gibson, called her and said: "My dear,
you cannot make it harder for other people ! If
you feel very much afraid, come to me, and I will
take you in my arms, but you mustn't cry."
Charles Campbell, the historian, lived near us, at
the Anderson Seminary. He cleared out the large
coal cellar, which was fortunately dry, spread rugs on
the floor, and furnished it with lounges and chairs.
There we took refuge in utter darkness when the
firing was unbearable. My next-door neighbor, Mr.
Thomas Branch, piled bags of sand around his house
and thus made it bomb-proof. One day a shell
struck one of my chimneys and buried itself, hissing,
at the front door. Away we went to Mr. Campbell's
202 My Day
bomb-proof cellar, and there we remained until the
paroxysmal shelling ceased.
One night, after a long, hot day, we were so tired
we slept soundly. I was awakened by Eliza Page,
standing trembling beside me. She pulled me out
of bed and hurriedly turned to throw blankets around
the children. The furies were let loose ! The house
was shaking with the concussion from the heavy guns.
We were in the street, on our way to our bomb
proof cellar, when a shell burst not more than twenty-
five feet before us. Fire and fragments rose like a
fountain in the air and fell in a shower around us.
Not one of my little family was hurt and strange
to say, the children were not terrified !
Another time a shell fell in our own yard and
buried itself in the earth. My baby was not far
away in her nurse's arms. The little creature was
fascinated by the shells. The first word she ever
uttered was an attempt to imitate them. " Yonder
comes that bird with the broken wing," the servants
would say. The shells made a fluttering sound as
they traversed the air, descending with a frightful
hiss. When they exploded in mid-air, a puff of smoke,
white as an angel's wing, would drift away, and the
particles would patter down like hail. At night
the track of the shell and its explosion were precisely
similar to our Fourth of July rockets, except that
they were fired, not upward, but in a slanting direc
tion, not aimed at the stars, but aimed at us ! I
never felt afraid of them ! I was brought up to
believe in predestination. Courage, after all, is
much a matter of nerves. My neighbors, Mr. and
My Day 203
Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Meade, and Mr. and Mrs.
Campbell, agreed with me, and we calmly elected to
remain in town. There was no place of safety
accessible to us. Mr. Branch removed his family,
and, as far as I knew, none other of my friends re
mained throughout the summer.
Not far from our own door ran a sunken street, with
the hill, through which it was cut, rising each side
of it. Into this hill the negroes burrowed, hollow
ing out a small space, where they sat all day on
mats, knitting, singing, and selling small cakes made
of sorghum and flour, and little round meat pies.
The antiphonal songs, with their weird melody,
still linger in my memory. At night above the dull
roar of the guns, the keen hiss of the shells as they
fell, the rattle and rumble of the army wagons, a
strong voice from the colony of hillside huts would
ring. out :
" My brederin do-o-n't be weary,
De angel brought de tidin's down.
Do-o-n't be weary
For we're gwine home !
" I want to go to heaven!
( Answer) Yas, my Lawd !
I want to see my Jesus !
Yas, my Lawd !
(Chorus) '< My brederin do-o-n't be weary,
De angel brought de tidin's down.
Do-o-n't be weary
For we're gwine home."
The sorghum cakes were made to perfection in
our own kitchen, but the meat pies were fascinating.
204 My Day
I might have been tempted to invest in them but
for a slight circumstance. I saw a dead mule lying
on the common, and out of its side had been cut a
very neat, square chunk of flesh !
With all our starvation we never ate rats, mice, or
mule meat. We managed to exist on peas, bread,
and sorghum. We could buy a little milk, and we
mixed it with a drink made from roasted and ground
corn. The latter, in the grain, was scarce. Mr.
Campbell's children picked up the grains wherever
the army horses were fed, washed, dried, and pounded
them for food.
My little boys never complained, but Theo, who
had insisted upon returning to me from his uncle's
safe home in the country, said one day : " Mamma,
I have a queer feeling in my stomach ! Oh, no ! it
doesn't ache the least bit, but it feels like a nutmeg
grater."
Poor little laddie ! His machinery needed oiling.
And pretty soon his small brother fell ill with fever.
My blessed Dr. Withers obtained a permit for me
to get a pint of soup every day from the hospital,
and one day there was a joyful discovery. In the
soup was a drumstick of chicken !
" I cert'nly hope I'll not get well," the little man
shocked me by saying.
" Oh, is it as bad as that ? " I sighed.
" Why," he replied, "my soup will be stopped if I
get better!"
Just at this juncture, when things were as bad as
could be, my husband brought home to tea the Hon.
Pierre Soule, General D. H. Hill, and General Long-
My Day 205
street. I had bread and a little tea, the latter served in
a yellow pitcher without a handle. Mrs. Meade, hear
ing of my necessity, sent me a small piece of bacon. I
had known Mr. Soule in Washington society of
all men the most fastidious, most polished. When
we assembled around the table, I lifted my hot pit
cher by means of a napkin, and offered my tea, pure
and simple, allowing the guests to use their discretion
in regard to a spoonful or two of dark brown
sugar.
" This is a great luxury, madam," said Mr.
Soule, with one of his gracious bows, " a good cup
of tea."
We talked that night of all that was going wrong
with our country, of the good men who were con
stantly relieved of their commands, of all the mis
takes we were making.
" Mistakes ! " said General Hill, bringing his
clenched fist down upon the table, " I could forgive
mistakes ! I cannot forgive lies ! I could get along
if we could only, only ever learn the truth, the real
truth." But he was very personal and used much
stronger words than these.
The pictures my general had brought from Eu
rope had been sent early from Washington to
Petersburg, and I had opened one of the boxes
which contained a large etching of Michelangelo's
" Last Judgment." General Longstreet stood long
before this picture, as it hung in our living room.
Turning to Mr. Soule and General Hill he ex
claimed : f< Oh, what does it all signify ? Here is
the end for every one of us ! " the end of all the
206 My Day
strife, the bloodshed, the bitterness the final vic
tory or defeat.
They talked and talked, these veterans and the
charming, accomplished diplomat, until one of them
inquired the hour. I raised a curtain.
" Gentlemen," I said, " the sun is rising. You
must now breakfast with us." They declined. They
had supped !
In the terrible fight at Port Walthall near
Petersburg, my husband rendered essential service.
Among the few papers I preserved in a secret
drawer of the only trunk I saved, were two, one
signed Bushrod Johnson, the other D. H. Hill.
The latter says : " The victory at Walthall Junc
tion was greatly due to General Roger A. Pryor.
But for him it is probable we might have been sur
prised and defeated." The other from General
Johnson runs at length : " At the most critical
juncture General Roger A. Pryor rendered me
most valuable service, displaying great zeal, energy,
and gallantry in reconnoitring the positions of the
enemy, arranging my line of battle, and rendering
successful the operations and movements of the
conflict." At General Johnson's request my hus
band served with him during the midsummer. Such
letters I have in lieu of medal or ribbon, a part
only of much of similar nature ; but less was
given to many a man who as fully deserved
recognition.
Having been in active service in all the events
around Petersburg, my husband was now requested
by General Lee to take with him a small squad
My Day 207
of men, and learn something of the movements
of the enemy.
" Grant knows all about me," he said, " and I
know too little about Grant. You were a school
boy here, General, and have hunted in all the by
paths around Petersburg. Knowing the country
better than any of us, you are the best man for this
important duty.'*
Accordingly, armed with a pass from General
Lee, my husband set forth on his perilous scouting
expeditions, sometimes being absent a week at a
time. During these scouting trips he had had ad
ventures, narrow escapes, and also some opportuni
ties for gratifying, what has ever been the controlling
principle of his nature, the desire to help the un
fortunate. Once he brought me early in the morn
ing three or four prisoners under guard, and as he
passed me on his way to snatch an hour's sleep, he
calmly ordered, " Be sure to feed them well."
I find in an unpublished diary of Charles Camp
bell, the historian, this item : " I met Mrs. Pryor
on her way to the commissary, with a small tin pail
in her hand. She said she was going for her daily
ration of meal." This " daily ration " for which I
paid three dollars was all I had, except beans and
sorghum, and John openly rebelled when ordered
to serve it in loaves to my prisoners. However, he
was overruled, and with perfect good humor my
little boys acquiesced, gave up their own breakfast,
and served the prisoners.
No farmer dared venture within the lines no
fish were in the streams, no game in the woods
ao8 My Day
around the town. The cannonading had driven
them away. There was no longer a market in
Petersburg. I once, under shell fire, visited the
Old Market. At the end of a table upon which
cakes and jugs of sorghum molasses were exhibited,
an aged negro offered a frozen cabbage !
The famine moved on apace, but its twin sister,
fever, rarely visited us. Never had Petersburg
been so healthy. Every particle of animal or vege
table food was consumed, and the streets were
clean. Flocks of pigeons would follow the children
who were eating bread or crackers. Finally the
pigeons vanished, having been themselves eaten.
Rats and mice disappeared. The poor cats stag
gered about the streets, and began to die of hunger.
At times meal was the only article attainable, except
by the rich. An ounce of meat daily was consid
ered an abundant ration for each member of the
family. To keep food of any kind was impossible
cows, pigs, bacon, flour, everything was stolen,
and even sitting hens were taken from the nest.
In the presence of such facts as these General Lee
was able to report that nearly every regiment in his
army had reenlisted and for the war ! And very
soon he also reported that the army was out of meat
and had but one day's rations of bread ! One of
our papers copied the following from the Mobile
Advertiser :
" In General Lee's tent meat is eaten but twice a week,
the general not allowing it oftener, because he believes
indulgence in meat to be criminal in the present strait
ened condition of the country. His ordinary dinner con-
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE IN 1861.
My Day 209
sists of a head of cabbage boiled in salt water and a pone
of corn bread. Having invited a number of gentlemen to
dine with him, General Lee, in a fit of extravagance,
ordered a sumptuous repast of bacon and cabbage. The
dinner was served, and behold, a great sea of cabbage and
a small island of bacon, or c middling,' about four inches
long and two inches across. The guests, with commend
able politeness, unanimously declined the bacon, and it re
mained in the dish untouched. Next day General Lee,
remembering the delicate titbit which had been so provi
dentially preserved, ordered his servant to bring that ' mid
dling.' The man hesitated, scratched his head, and finally
owned up :
u ' Marse Robert, de fac j is, dat ar middlin' was
borrowed middlin'. We-all didn' have no middlin'. I done
paid it back to de place whar I got it fum.'
" General Lee heaved a sigh of disappointment, and
pitched into the cabbage."
Early in the autumn flour sold for $1500 a
barrel, bacon $20 a pound, beef ditto, a chicken
could be bought for $50, shad $5.50 a pair the
head of a bullock, horns and all, could be purchased,
as a favor, from the commissary for $5. Gro
ceries soared out of sight. I once counted in a
soldier's ration eight grains of coffee ! Little by
little I drew from the belt of gold I wore around
my waist, receiving towards the last one hundred
dollars for one dollar in gold. These were anxious
times, difficult times but they were not the worst
times ! We still had hope. Any day, any hour
might bring us victory and consequently relief. We
had the blessed boon of comradeship. Una et com
mune periclum y una salus ! Noble spirits were all
2io My Day
around us, strong in faith and hope. Discouraging
words were never uttered when we talked together.
My neighbor, Mrs. Meade and her daughters,
were delightful friends, cheerful always. Soldiers
were not allowed to wander about the streets, but
one day I saw Mary Meade pause at her gate, just
across the narrow street, and speak to one of them.
" Do you know what he was asking me ? " she ran
over to say. " Isn't it too funny ? A soldier with
his gun on his shoulder wanted to know if we kept
a dog, and if he could safely take a drink from the
well ! " A number of Englishmen hung about our
camps near the close of the war. They were very
agreeable, and while with us intensely Southern. I
delighted in one who had hired rooms in Mrs.
Meade's " office " opposite. He was so ardent a
secessionist we honored him with the usual Southern
title of " Colonel." He came over one morning in
great indignation : " Oh, I say, it's a bit beastly of
General Grant to frighten Mrs. Meade ! It's ajolly
shame to fire big shells into a lady's garden."
" What would you do, Colonel, if your chimney
should be knocked off as mine was last week ? "
Well," thoughtfully, " I guess I'd toddle."
The time came when I felt that I could no longer
endure the strain of being perpetually under fire,
and to my great relief, my brother-in-law, Robert
Mcllwaine, removed his family to North Carolina,
and placed Cottage Farm, three miles distant from
the city, at my disposal. He had left a piano and
some furniture in the house, and was glad to have
me live in it.
My Day 211
I had been in this refuge only a few days, happy
in the blessed respite from danger, when I learned
that General Lee had established his headquarters a
short distance from us.
The whole face of the earth seemed to change im
mediately. Army wagons crawled unceasingly in a
fog of dust along the highroad, just in front of our
gate. All was stir and life in the rear, where there
was another country road, and a short road connect
ing the two passed immediately by the well near
our house. This, too, was constantly travelled ; the
whir of the well-wheel never seemed to pause, day
or night. We soon had pleasant visitors, General
A. P. Hill, Colonel William Pegram, General
Walker, General Wilcox, and others. General Wil-
cox, an old friend and comrade, craved permission
to make his headquarters on the green lawn in the
rear of the house, and my husband rejoiced at his
presence and protection for our little family.
In less than twenty-four hours I found myself in
the centre of a camp. The white tents of General
Wilcox's staff-officers were stretched close to the
door. " We are here for eight years not a day
less," said my father, and he fully believed it. This
being the case, we brought all our boxes from town,
unpacked the library and set it up on shelves, un
packed and hung our pictures. I hung the
" Madonna della Seggiola " over the mantel in the
parlor and Guide's " Aurora " over the piano.
There was a baby house in one of the boxes and a
trunk of evening dresses at which I did not even
glance, but stored in the cellar. Everything looked
212 My Day
so cosey and homelike, we were happier than we
had been in a long time. That my infant should
not starve, I bought a little cow, Rose, from a small
planter in the neighborhood, for a liberal sum in
gold from my belt. " We mus' all help one an
other these times," he observed complacently. Rose
was a great treasure. My general's horse, Jubal
Early, was required to share his rations with her
indeed, poor Jubal's allowance of corn was sometimes
beaten into hominy for all of us. John at once
built a shelter close to his own room for Rose,
" 'cause I knows soldiers ! They gits up fo' day
and milk yo' cow right under yo' eyelids. When
we-all was in Pennsylvania, the ole Dutch farmers
used to give Gen'al Lee Hail Columbia 'cause his
soldiers milked their cows. But Lawd ! Gen'al Lee
couldn' help it ! He could keep 'em from stealin'
horses, but the queen of England herself couldn'
stop a soldier when he hankers after milk. An' he
don't need no pail, neither; he can milk in his can
teen an' never spill a drop."
John and the boys were in fine spirits. They
laid plans for chickens, pigeons, and pigs none of
which were realized, except the latter, which I per
suaded a butcher to give me for one or two of the
general's silk vests. As we were to be here " for
eight years, no less," it behooved me to look after
the little boys' education. School books were found
for them. I knew " small Latin and less Greek,"
but I gravely heard them recite lessons in the former ;
and they never discovered the midnight darkness of
my mind as to mathematics. As to the pigs, I had
My Day 213
almost obtained my own consent to convert them
into sausages when I was spared the pain of signing
their death warrant by their running away !
I knew nothing of the strong line of fortifications
which General Grant was building at the back of
the farm, fortifications strengthened by forts at short
intervals. Our own line visible from the garden
had fewer forts, two of which, Fort Gregg and
Battery 45, protected our immediate neighborhood.
These forts occasionally answered a challenge, but
there was no attempt at a sally on either side.
The most painful circumstance connected with
our position was the picket firing at night, incessant,
like the dropping of hail, and harrowing from the
apprehension that many a man fell from the fire of a
picket. But, perhaps to reassure me, Captain Lind
say and Captain Clover, of General Wilcox's staff,
declared that " pickets have a good time. They
fire, yes, for that is their business ; but while they
load for the next volley, one will call out, Hello,
Reb,' be answered, c Hello, Yank,' and little parcels
of coffee are thrown across in exchange for a plug of
tobacco." After accepting this fiction I could have
made myself easy, but for my constant anxiety
about the safety of my dear general. He was now
employed day and night, often in peril, gleaning
from every possible source information for General
Lee. While absent on one of these scouting trips,
he once met a lady who, with her children, was vainly
trying to pass through the lines that she might re
turn to her home at the North. Two years ago he
received the following pleasant letter :
214 My Day
" REPRESENTATIVE HALL,
" 29th SESSION
" NEBRASKA LEGISLATURE.
"LINCOLN, 3/igth, 1907.
u My dear Judge Pryor,
" I cannot resist the desire I have to write you concerning
an incident of the war, in which you played such a noble
and splendid part. You may have forgotten Mrs. Mary C.
Burgess, whom, with three little children, you escorted with
much personal risk through from the Confederate picket
line to the Union line. You took two scouts. Each took
a child on his horse, Mrs. Burgess walking. You stopped
in a ravine and told Mrs. Burgess to go into the open field
to the right where she would see a man on a gray horse to
the left, she to signal this man, who would command her
to come to him. She did so, and then came back after the
children. You bade Mrs. Burgess good-by. She took
the children and went again to the man on horseback.
He took her to General Meade's headquarters, where she got
orders to go to City Point, where she was detained two weeks,
General Grant being absent, and she could go no farther
without General Grant's orders. You will remember
how Mrs. Burgess was sent to Mrs. Cumming's house
with an escort of cavalry and infantry with a flag of truce.
They were suspicious of the attention paid Mrs. Burgess,
and at first were inclined to treat her as a spy. But after
many hardships Mrs. Burgess finally reached New York
and friends. Mrs. Burgess is my mother-in-law ; is living
with me ; is the same dignified, cultivated lady whom you
may remember. She is now in her seventy-fourth year.
The splendid acts of kindness shown by you to her and the
three children no doubt saved their lives. Mother Burgess
sits here and wants you to know you occupy a lifelong
place in her memory. For myself and all the family, I
My Day 215
wish to say to you, Judge Pryor, that the English language
does not contain words to express our admiration for your
bravery, and our thankfulness to you for protecting the
lone woman and children and the magnificent chivalry that
prompted you like a true knight, which you are, to go to
their rescue. I hope to have the honor and pleasure of see
ing you and shaking your hand. With kindest of personal
regard to you and all dear to you, I beg to remain,
" Yours sincerely,
"H. C. M. BURGESS,
" 1568 South 20th St.
" Lincoln, Neb."
CHAPTER XXII
THE morning of November 29, 1864, found
me comfortably seated at my breakfast table
with my little boys and my small brother,
Campbell Pryor. My venerable father. Dr. Pryor,
had departed on his daily rounds to visit the sick
and wounded in the hospitals, and my husband was
away on special duty for General Lee. John had
reported early with one cupful of milk all that
little Rose, with her slender rations, was capable of
yielding. This we had boiled with parched corn
and sweetened with sorghum molasses. With per
fect biscuits well beaten but unmixed with lard or
butter we made a breakfast with which we were con
tented. I indulged myself in a long letter to my
dear aunt, telling her of our comfortable home and
the prospect of comparative quiet with the army soon
to go into winter quarters. I had addressed my
letter and was about to seal it when General Wilcox
entered, and gently told me that my husband had
been captured the day before !
I remember perfectly that I sat for a moment
stunned into silence, and then quietly stamped my
letter ! I would spare my aunt the sad news for
a while. In a few minutes clanking spurs at the
door announced the presence of a staff-officer.
" Madam," he said respectfully, " General Lee
sends you his affectionate sympathies."
216
My Day 217
Through the window I saw General Lee on his
horse. Traveller, standing at the well. He waited
until his messenger returned I was too much over
come to speak and then rode slowly towards the
lines.
I had small hope of the speedy exchange promised
me by General Wilcox. From day to day he re
ported the efforts made for my husband's release and
their failure. General Lee authorized a letter to
General Meade, detailing the circumstances of his
capture and requesting his release. General Meade
promptly refused to release him.
We naturally looked to the enemy for all infor
mation, and although my husband had written me a
pencilled note at City Point on the inside of a Con
federate envelope, and had implored his guard (a
Federal officer) to have it inserted in a New York
paper, I did not receive it until thirty-one years
afterward. We soon had news, however, through a
despatch from the Northern army to the New
York Herald. The paper of November 30, 1864,
contained the following :
" Yesterday a rebel officer made his appearance in
front of our lines, waving a paper for exchange. The
officer in charge of the picket, suddenly remember
ing that Major Burrage, of the Thirty-sixth Massa
chusetts, was taken prisoner some time since by the
enemy while on a similar errand, c gobbled* the rebel,
who proved to be the famous Roger A. Pryor, ex-
member of Congress and ex-brigadier-general of
Jeff Davis's army. He protested vehemently against
what he styled c a flagrant breach of faith ' on our
2i 8 My Day
part. He was assured he was taken in retaliation
for like conduct on the part of his friends, and sent
to General Meade's headquarters for further dis
position."
Press despatch to Herald, November 30, from
Washington : " Roger A. Pryor has been brought
to Washington and committed to the old Capitol
Prison." Later a personal through the New Tork
News reached me : " Your husband is in Fort Lafay
ette, where a friend and relative is permitted to visit
him, (signed) Mary Rhodes." From an enormous
quantity of letters, newspaper extracts, book notices,
military reports, etc., describing his capture written
by the men who made it and witnessed it, I select an
interesting one, not hitherto published, which my
husband received recently through my brother, the
Mayor of Bristol.
"BRISTOL, TENN., July 10, 1908.
" HON. W. L. RICE,
"BRISTOL, VA.
" My dear Mayor :
"I very cheerfully comply with your request to give you
a short sketch of the circumstances which led to my selec
tion as the Officer to convey Gen. R. A. Pryor to Fort
Warren, Mass., in 1864. As an aid to my memory I have
hunted over my old Army papers, and have found the orig
inal Order from the Military Governor of Washington,
D.C., and also the receipt given me by Gen. Pryor for money
which I turned over to him, on delivering him to the Com
mandant of Fort Lafayette, N. Y. Harbor, to which place
my orders were afterwards changed and which papers I
herewith attach.
"In November of 1864 my Regiment, the 39th Mass.,
My Day 219
was serving in the defences of Washington, and I had been
detailed as an Aid on the staff of Gen. Martindale, then
Commanding the Military District of Washington. Hav
ing received a Leave of Absence to visit my home in Mass.,
Col. T. McGowan, then Adjt. General of the District,
kindly offered to place a prisoner in my charge and thus save
to me my transportation. I did not know who my pris
oner was to be, until my orders were received, and naturally
felt pleased to find that my charge was to be Gen. Roger
A. Pryor, whom I had known by reputation from my boy
hood up.
" Though my Orders read that I was to assist Brig. Gen
eral Wessels, I saw nothing of that gentleman until after
General Pryor and myself had reached and taken seats in
the train. Then Gen. Wessels made himself known, and
asked an introduction to Gen. Pryor.
"It was 9.30 at night when left Washington, and we
did not reach New York until daylight next morning. When
I received my prisoner at the Old Capitol Prison, I recall
that the Supt., one Colonel Wood advised me to iron my
charge, alleging that he was a dangerous man ; but this I
refused to do, taking only Gen. Pryor's verbal parole that
he would not attempt to escape while in my custody.
This Gen. Pryor cheerfully gave, and religiously kept
while with me. On arrival at Jersey City we became in
some way separated from Gen. Wessels, and crossed over by
the Cortlandt Street Ferry to New York. As the hour was
early we stopped for breakfast at the Courtland Street Hotel,
then quite a pretentious Hostelry. After breakfast, and
while preparing to leave the Hotel for the Qr. Mas. Gen.
Dept. where I was to find my orders and transportation, I
was surprised to find that the Rotunda of the Hotel was
packed, evidently with friends of Gen. Pryor and for a short
time it looked as if my prisoner would be taken from me,
but the Gen. directing me to take his arm, we passed through
22O My Day
without trouble. At the Quarter Master Genl's I found
my orders changed, and I was directed to convey my pris
oner to Fort Lafayette New York Harbor in place of Fort
Warren Boston Harbor. On arrival at Fort Lafayette we
found Brig. Gen. Wessels awaiting us, and with him we
proceeded across the ferry turning over our prisoner to
Major Burke, Commandant at that Fort, taking his receipt
therefor.
" At this distance of time (44 years) it would seem that
these occurrences must have passed from my memory, but
I remember with distinctness the appearance of the Gen
eral, the incident at the Old Capitol, the crowd in the
Rotunda of the Cortlandt Hotel, the miraculous passage
through the sea of c Red' faces therein, and the appearance of
Major Paddy Burke (a very old Officer of the Old Army)
to whose custody I transferred my charge. I recall also
the kind expressions of regard uttered by General Pryor as
we shook hands at parting and the promise he extracted that
should it be my fate to be wounded or a prisoner in Rich
mond, during the war, that I would make myself known to
his family there residing, who would respond to any appeal
made by me. It was my fortune to pass through the re
maining months of the war without being captured, and
never severely wounded, so I did not have to call on the
generosity of a gallant foe, and I presume the memory of
that journey to New York, and the memory of the stripling
Officer who accompanied him on that journey, long ago
passed from Judge Pryor's memory, but I recall it as a
pleasant episode in a boy's life and I would wish, that in
writing to the Judge, you would kindly convey to him my
sincere congratulations on the honors he has attained, and
the respect and love which he has received in his declining
years, and with kindest wishes to yourself, believe me,
" Very truly yours,
WGS-OMH " WM. G. SHEEN."
My Day 221
Mr. Sheen kindly sent my brother the order to
which he alludes :
" HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DISTRICT OF WASHINGTON
"PROVOST MARSHAL'S OFFICE
"WASHINGTON, D.C., Nov. agth, 1864.
"Special Orders
No. 21 7
" Extract
" It is hereby Ordered ! That Brigadier Gen'l, H. W.
Wessels assisted by Lieut. Wm. G. Sheen will proceed to
Old Capital Prison and taken in charge the following
named prisoner :
" Roger A. Pryor Jth Fa : Car
and deliver him together with the accompany papers to the
Commanding Officer at Fort Warren Boston Harbor take
a receipt therefore and report action at these Head Quarters.
" The Quartermaster Department will furnish the neces
sary transportation.
" By Command of Col. M. N. WISERVELL,
" Military Governor.
" GEO. R. WALBRIDGE,
" Capt & Asst Pro. Marshal."
It will be perceived by the above that the Federal
officers granted their captured private the honor of
escort by a Federal general Brigadier-general
H. W. Wessels and were inclined to confer upon
him the further distinction of "irons."
While he was detained in Washington, Major
Leary (or Captain) discovered a plot to assassinate
him, which he revealed to the prisoner, arranging
222 My Day
for his greater safety. Before he reached Fort
Lafayette it appears he was threatened with assassi
nation and also rescue. Some kind friend in Wash
ington thrust into his overcoat pocket a bottle of
brandy. It was taken from him when his pockets
were searched, along with his letters and pistols,
but returned by a Federal officer, who remarked,
recognizing the touch of nature which establishes
the kinship of all men in all nations, "Keep it,
General ! There's an almighty sight of comfort in
a bottle of brandy." The pistols were not returned
and, along with an army cape, are preserved I have
understood in a museum of war relics at Concord,
Mass.
A month elapsed before all the forms required by
military law could be observed in sending the letters
of prisoners through the lines. At last Colonel
Ould forwarded to me a brief assurance of my dear
captive's welfare. He was confined in a casemate
with twelve other prisoners. A grate held a small
quantity of coal, and on this fire the captive soldiers
cooked their slender rations of meat. Their bread
was furnished them from a baker. They lay upon
straw mats on the floor. They were glad of the
rule compelling them to fetch up their fuel from the
coal cellar, as it gave opportunity for exercise.
Once daily they could walk upon the ramparts, and
my husband's eyes turned sadly to the dim outlines
of the beautiful city where he had often been an
honored guest. The veil which hid from him so
much of the grief and struggle of the future hid also
the reward. Little did he dream he should admin-
My Day 223
ister justice on the supreme bench of the mist-veiled
city.
The captives had no material except coal and
water, but of the former they manufactured seal rings
(to be set when they regained their liberty), inlaying
a polished ebony surface with bits from a silver coin
to represent tiny Confederate flags. One of these
was given to my general, and lost in the great hour
of losses. With the coal as a pencil, the prisoners
indulged in caricatures of the commandant. Every
morning a fresh picture on the whitewashed wall met
his eye : " Burk as a baby," " Burk in his first pants,"
" Burk in love/' etc., etc. The reward was the com
mandant's face when he saw them.
After my husband's release, his place in the case
mate was filled by a "stylish" young officer who
refused, absolutely, to submit to the degradation of
bringing up his quota of the coal.
"And so," said "old Burk," "you are too
great a man, are you, to fetch your coal? I had
General Pryor here. He brought up his coal ! I
think, sir, you'll bring up yours ! "
Before I take leave of my dear captive for the
winter, I must record his unvarying fortitude under
much physical discomfort, cold, and food which
almost destroyed him. On the 2oth of December,
I received a brief note from Fort Lafayette : " My
philosophy begins to fail somewhat. In vain I seek
some argument of consolation. I see no chance of
release. The conditions of my imprisonment cut
me off from every resource of happiness."
I learned afterward that he was ill, and often
224 My Day
under the care of a physician during the winter, but
he tried to write as encouragingly as possible. In
February, however, he failed in health and spirits.
" I am as contented as is compatible with my con
dition. My mind is ill at ease from my solicitude
for my family and my country. Every disaster
pierces my soul like an arrow ; and I am afflicted
with the thought that I am denied the privilege of
contributing even my mite to the deliverance of .
How I envy my old comrades their hardships and
privations ! I have little hope of an early exchange,
and you may be assured my mistrust is not without
reason. Except some special instance be employed to
procure my release, my detention here will be indefinite.
I cannot be more explicit. While this is my con
viction, I wish it distinctly understood that I would
not have my government compromise any scruple
for the sake of my liberation. I am prepared for
any contingency am fortified against any reverse
of fortune.'*
The problem now confronting me was this : how
could I maintain my children and myself? My
husband's rations were discontinued. I sent my
general's horse far into the interior, to be boarded
with a farmer for his services, as I had no possible
means of feeding him. My only supply of food was
from my father's ration as chaplain. I had a part
of a barrel of flour which a relative had sent me from
a county now cut off from us. Quite a number
of my old Washington servants had followed me, to
escape the shelling, but they could not, of course,
look to me for their support. My household in-
My Day 225
eluded Eliza Page, Aunt Jinny, and Uncle Frank
(old people and old settlers), and our faithful John.
I frankly told John and Eliza my condition, but
they elected to remain.
One day John presented himself with a heart
broken countenance and a drooping attitude of deep
dejection. He had a sad story to tell. The agent
of the estate to which he belonged was in town, and
John had been commissioned to inform me that all
the slaves belonging to the estate were to be
immediately transferred to a Louisiana plantation for
safety. Those of us who had hired these servants
by the year were to be indemnified for our loss.
" How do you feel about it, John ? " I asked.
The poor fellow broke down. " It will kill me,"
he declared. " I'll soon die on that plantation."
All his affectionate, faithful service, all his hard
ships for our sakes, rushed upon my memory. I
bade him put me in communication with the agent.
I found that I could save the boy only by buying him!
A large sum of gold was named as the price. I un
buckled my girdle and counted my handful of gold
one hundred and six dollars. These I offered to
the agent (who was a noted negro trader), and
although it was far short of his figures, he made out
my bill of sale receipted. Remembered to-day, this
seems a wonderful act on my part. At the time it
was the most natural thing in the world !
John soon appeared with smiling face and in
formed me with his thanks that he belonged to
me !
" You are a free man, John," I said. " I will
Q
226 My Day
make out your papers and I can easily arrange for
you to pass the lines."
" I know that," he said. " Marse Roger has often
told me I was a free man. I never will leave you
till I die. Papers, indeed ! Papers nothing ! I be
long to you that's where I belong."
All that dreadful winter he was faithful to his
promise, cheerfully bearing, without wages, all the
privations of the time. Sometimes when the last
atom of food was gone, he would ask for money,
sally forth with a horse and a light cart, and bring in
peas and dried apples. Once a week we were allowed
to purchase the head of a bullock, horns and all,
from the commissary for the exclusive use of the
servants I would have starved first and a small
ration of rice was allowed us by the government.
A one-armed boy, Alick, who had been reared in my
father's family, now wandered in to find his old
master, and installed himself as my father's servant.
The question that pressed upon me day and night
was: "How, where, can I earn some money?"
to be answered by the frightful truth that there could
be no opening for me anywhere, because I could not
leave my children.
One wakeful night, while I was revolving these
things, a sudden thought darted, unbidden, into my
sorely harassed mind :
"Why not open the trunk from Washington?
Something may be found there which can be sold."
At an early hour next morning John and Alick
brought the trunk from the cellar. Aunt Jinny,
Eliza, and the children gathered around. It proved
My Day 227
to be full of my old Washington finery. There
were a half-dozen or more white muslin gowns,
flounced and trimmed with Valenciennes lace, many
yards ; there was a rich bayadere silk gown trimmed
fully with guipure lace ; a green silk dress with gold
embroidery ; a blue-and-silver brocade, these last
evening gowns. There was a paper box containing
the shaded roses I had worn to Lady Napier's ball,
the ball at which Mrs. Douglas and I had dressed
alike in gowns of tulle. Another box held the
garniture of green leaves and gold grapes which had
belonged to the green silk, and still another the blue-
and-silver feathers for the brocade. An opera cloak
trimmed with fur ; a long purple velvet cloak ; a
purple velvet " coalscuttle " bonnet, trimmed with
white roses ; a point-lace handkerchief; Valenciennes
lace ; Brussels lace ; and in the bottom of the trunk
a package of del blue zephyr, awakening reminis
cences of a passion which I had cherished for knitting
shawls and "mariposas" of zephyr, such was the
collection I discovered.
I ripped all the lace from the evening gowns and
made large collars and undersleeves then in vogue.
John found a closed dry-goods store willing to sell
clean paper boxes.
My first instalment was sent to Price's store in
Richmond and promptly sold. I sold the silk
gowns minus the costly trimming; but when I had
stripped the muslin flounces of lace, behold raw
edges that no belle, even a Confederate, could have
worn. I rolled the edges of these flounces there
were ten or twelve on some of the gowns and
228 My Day
edged them with a spiral line of blue zephyr. I
embroidered a dainty vine of blue forget-me-nots on
bodice and sleeves, with a result simply ravishing !
After I had converted all my laces into collars,
cuffs, and sleeves, and had sold my silk gowns, opera
cloak, and point-lace handkerchiefs, I devoted my
self to trimming the edges of the artificial flowers, and
separating the long wreaths and garlands into clusters
for hats and bouquets de corsage.
Eliza and the children delighted in this phase of my
work, and begged to assist, all except Aunt Jinny.
" Honey," she said, " don't you think, in these
times of trouble, you might do better than tempt
them po' young lambs in Richmond to worship the
golden calf and bow down to mammon ? We prays
not to be led into temptation, and you sho'ly is
leadin' 'em into vanity."
" Maybe so, Aunt Jinny, but I must sell all I can.
We have to be clothed, you know, war or no war."
" Yes, my chile, that's so ; but we're told to con
sider the lilies. Gawd Almighty tells us we must
clothe ourselves in the garment of righteousness,
and He-
" You always 'pear to be mighty intimate with
God A'mighty," interrupted Eliza, in great wrath.
" Now you just run 'long home an' leave my mistis
to her work. How would you look with nothin' on
but a garment of righteousness ? "
When I had stripped the pretty silk gowns of
their trimmings, what could be done with the gowns
themselves? Finally I resolved to embroider them.
The zeal with which I worked knew no pause. I
My Day 229
needed no rest. General Wilcox, who was in the
saddle until a late hour every night, said to me,
"Your candle is the last light I see at night the
first in the morning."
" I should never sleep," I told him.
One day I consulted Eliza about the manufacture
of a Confederate candle. We knew how to make
it by drawing a cotton rope many times through
melted wax, and then winding it around a bottle.
We could get the wax, but our position was an ex
posed one. Soldiers' tents were close around us,
and we scrupulously avoided any revelation of our
needs, lest they should deny themselves for our
sakes. Eliza thought we might avail ourselves of
the absence of the officers, and finish our work be
fore they returned. We made our candle behind
the kitchen; but that night, as I sat sewing beside
its dim, glowworm light, I heard a step in the hall,
and a hand, hastily thrust out, placed a brown paper
parcel on the piano near the door. It was a soldier's
ration of candles !
Of course I could not find shoes for my boys.
I made little boots of carpet lined with flannel for
my baby. A pair lasted just three days. A large
bronze morocco pocket-book fell into my hands, of
which I made boots for my little Mary. Alick,
prowling about the fields to gather the herb " life
everlasting," of which we made yeast, found two or
three leather bags, and a soldier shoemaker contrived
shoes for each of my boys.
My own prime necessity was for the steel we
women wear in front of our stays. I suffered so
230 My Day
much for want of this accustomed support, that
Captain Lindsay had a pair made for me by the gov
ernment gunsmith the best I ever had.
The time came when the salable contents of the
Washington trunk were all gone. I then cut up
my husband's dress-coat, and designed well-fitting
ladies' gloves, with gauntlets made of the watered
silk lining. Of an interlining of gray flannel I
made gray gloves, and this glove manufacture yielded
me hundreds of dollars. Thirteen small fragments
of flannel were left after the gloves were finished.
Of these, pieced together, I made a pair of drawers
for my Willy, my youngest boy.
The lines around us were now so closely drawn
that my father returned home after short absences
of a day or two. But we were made anxious, during
a heavy snow early in December, by a more pro
longed absence. Finally he appeared, on foot,
hatless, and exhausted. He had been captured by a
party of cavalrymen. He had told them of his
non-combatant position, but when he asked for re
lease, they shook their heads. At night they all
prepared to bivouac upon the ground ; assigned him a
sheltered spot, gave him a good supper and blankets,
and left him to his repose. As the night wore on
and all grew still, he raised his head cautiously to
reconnoitre, and to his surprise found himself at some
distance from the guard but his horse tied to a tree
within the circle around the fire. My father took
the hint and walked away unchallenged, " which
proves, my dear," he said, "that a clergyman is
not worth as much as a good horse in time of war."
CHAPTER XXIII
IN the colony escaped from the shells and
huddled together around General Lee were two
very humble poor women who often visited
me. One of them was the proud owner of a cow,
" Morning-Glory," which she contrived to feed
from the refuse of the camp kitchens, receiving in
return a small quantity of milk, to be sold at prices
beyond belief. I never saw Morning-Glory, but I
often heard her friendly echo to the lowing of my
little Rose, morning and evening. Being inter
preted, it might have been found to convey an
expression of surprise that either was still alive, so
slender was their allowance of food.
One day I espied, coming down the dusty road,
the limp, sunbonneted figure of Morning-Glory's
mistress. She sank upon the nearest chair, pushed
back her calico bonnet, and revealed a face blurred
with tears and hair dishevelled beyond the ordinary.
" Good morning, Mrs. Jones ! Come to the
fire ! It's a cold morning."
" No'm, I ain't cole ! It's it's " (sobbing)
"it's Mornin'-Glory ! "
"Not sick? If she is, I'll "
" No'm, Mornin'-Glory ain't never goin' to be
sick no mo'."
" Oh, Mrs. Jones ! Not dead! "
"Them pickets kep' me awake all las' night, an' I
231
232 My Day
got up in the night an' went out to see how
Mornin'-Glory was gettin' on, an' she she she
look at me jus' the same ! An' I slep' soun' till
after sun-up, and when I got my pail an' went out
to milk her thar was her horns an hufs I '
The poor woman broke down completely in tell
ing me the ghastly story. " Oh, how wicked !
How was it possible to take her off and nobody
hear ? " I exclaimed in great wrath.
" I don't know, Mis' Pryor, nothin' but what
I tells you. Talk to me 'bout Yankees ! Soldiers
is soldiers, an' when you say that, you jus' as well
say devils is devils."
My other poor neighbor had long been a pen
sioner on my father. She was a forlorn widow with
many children, hopeless and helpless. My father
was in despair when she turned up " to git away
from the shellin'." She found a small untenanted
house near us and set up an establishment which
was supported altogether by boarding an occasional
soldier on sick leave, and taking his rations as her
pay. Like Mrs. Jones, she was a frequent visitor to
my fireside. One morning, after some unusual
demonstrations of coy shyness, she blurted out : " I
knows fo' I begin what you goin' to say ! You
goin' to tell me Ma'y Ann is a fool, an' I won't say
you ain't in the rights of it."
" Well, what is Mary Ann's folly ? I thought
she had grown up to be a sensible girl."
"Sensible ! May Ann ! Them pretty gals is never
sensible ! No'm. Melissy Jane is the sensible one
o' my chillun. I tole Ma'y Ann she didn't have
My Day 233
nothin' fitten to be ma'ied in, an' she up an* say she
know Mis* Pryor am' goin' to let one o' her pa's
chu'ch people git ma'ied in rags."
" I certainly will not, Mrs. Davis ! Mary Ann,
I suppose, is to marry the soldier you've been tak
ing care of. Tell her she may look to me for a
wedding-dress. When is it to be ?"
" Just as Dr. Pryor says to-morrow if con
venient."
I immediately overhauled the bundle of Wash
ington finery and found a lavender Pina, or " pine
apple " muslin, not yet prepared for sale. This
was a delicate gown, trimmed with lavender silk,
and with angel sleeves lined with white silk. This I
sent to the prospective bride considering her needs
and station, a most unsuitable wedding garment, but
all I had ! I managed to make a contribution to
the wedding supper, a large pumpkin I extorted from
John, who had " found " it. Melissy Jane, homely
enough to be brilliantly " sensible," appeared to take
charge of the present, the most slatternly, un
lovely, and altogether unpromising of the poor
white class I had ever seen ; and my father, in view of
the great good fortune coming to the forlorn family in
the acquisition of an able-bodied, whole-hearted Con
federate soldier, made no delay in performing the
marriage ceremony. About a week afterward Mrs.
Davis, limper than ever, more depressed than ever,
reappeared.
"I hope nobody's sick?" I inquired.
" No'm, the chilluns is as peart as common.
Ma'y Ann don't seem no ways encouraged.
' Pears like she's onreconciled."
234 My Day
" Why, what ails poor Mary Ann ? "
"Yas'm he's lef her! Jus' took hisself off
and never say nuthin'. We-all don't even know
what company owns him."
" Mrs. Davis ! " I exclaimed, in great indigna
tion, " this is not to be tolerated. That man is to
be found and made to do his duty. I can manage
it!"
" I don't know as I keers to ketch 'im," sighed
the poor woman. " Ef you capters them men
erginst ther will, they'll git away ergin sho ! Let
'im go long ! He ain't paid me a cent or a ration of
meat an' meal sence he was ma'ied. Anyhow,"
she proudly added, "May Ann is maiedl Folks
can't fling it up to 'er now as she's a ole maid,"
which proves that maternal ambitions are peculiar to
no condition of life.
Looking back, and living over again these stern
times, it seems to me little short of a miracle that
we actually did exist upon the slender portion of
food allotted us. We could rarely see, from one
day to another, just how we were to be fed.
" Give us this day our daily bread " this petition
was our sole reliance. And as surely as the day
would come,
" He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,"
would prove to us that we were of more value in
His sight than many sparrows.
General Lee passed my door every Sunday
morning on his way to a little wooden chapel
My Day 235
nearer his quarters than St. Paul's Church. I have
a picture of him in my memory, in his faded gray
overcoat and slouch hat, bending his head before
the sleet on stormy mornings. Sometimes his
cousin, Mrs. Banister, could find herself warranted
by circumstances to invite him to dine with her.
Once she received from a country friend a present
of a turkey, and General Lee consented to share it
with her. She helped him at dinner to a moderate
portion, for there was only one turkey like Charles
Lamb's hare and many friends ! Mrs. Banister
observed the general laying on one side of his plate
part of his share of the turkey, and she regretted
his loss of appetite. " Madam," he explained,
" Colonel Taylor is not well, and I should be glad
to be permitted to take this to him."
After an unusually mild season, John bethought
himself of the fishes in the pond and streams, but
not a fishhook was for sale in Richmond or Peters
burg. He contrived, out of a cunning arrangement
of pins, to make hooks, and sallied forth with my
boys. But the water was too cold, or the fish had
been driven down-stream by the firing. The
usual resource of the sportsman with an empty
creel a visit to the fishmonger was quite out
of the question. There was no fishmonger any
more.
Under these circumstances you may imagine my
sensation at receiving the following note :
" MY DEAR MRS. PRYOR : General Lee has been hon
ored by a visit from the Hon. Thomas Connolly, Irish
M.P. from Donegal.
236 My Day
" He ventures to request you will have the kindness to
give Mr. Connolly a room in your cottage, if this can be
done without inconvenience to yourself."
Certainly I could give Mr. Connolly a room ;
but just as certainly I could not feed him! The
messenger who brought me the note hastily re
assured me. He had been instructed to say that
Mr. Connolly would mess with General Lee. I
turned Mr. Connolly's room over to John, who
soon became devoted to his service. The M.P.
proved a most agreeable guest, a fine-looking Irish
gentleman with an irresistibly humorous, cheery
fund of talk. He often dropped in at our biscuit
toasting, and assured us that we were better pro
vided than the commander-in-chief.
"You should have seen c Uncle Robert's' dinner
to-day, madam ! He had two biscuits, and he gave
me one."
Another time Mr. Connolly was in high feather.
" We had a glorious dinner to-day ! Somebody
sent Uncle Robert ' a box of sardines."
General Lee, however, was not forgotten. On
fine mornings quite a procession of little negroes,
in every phase of raggedness, used to pass my door,
each one bearing a present from the farmers' wives
of buttermilk in a tin pail for General Lee. The
army was threatened with scurvy, and buttermilk,
hominy, and every vegetable that could be obtained
was sent to the hospital.
Mr. Connolly interested himself in my boys'
Latin studies.
My Day 237
" I am going home," he said, cc and tell the
English women what I have seen here: two boys
reading Caesar while the shells are thundering, and
their mother looking on without fear."
" I am too busy keeping the wolf from my door,"
I told him, <f to concern myself with the thunder
bolts."
The wolf was no longer at the door ! He had
entered and had taken up his abode at the fireside.
Besides what I could earn with my needle, I had
only my father's army ration to rely upon. My
faithful John foraged right and left, and I had
reason to doubt the wisdom of inquiring too closely
as to the source of an occasional half-dozen eggs or
small bag of corn. This last he would pound on a
wooden block for hominy. Meal was greatly prized
for the reason that wholesomer bread could be made
of it than of wheaten flour, meal was no longer pro
curable, but we were never altogether without flour.
As I have said, we might occasionally purchase for
five dollars the head of a bullock from the com
missary, every other part of the animal being avail
able for army rations. By self-denial on our own
part we fondly hoped we could support our army
and at last win our cause. We were not, at the time,
fully aware of the true state of things in the army.
Our men were so depleted from starvation that the
most trifling wound would end fatally. Gangrene
would supervene, and then nothing could be done to
prevent death. Long before this time, at Vicksburg,
Admiral Porter found that many a dead soldier's
haversack yielded nothing but a handful of parched
238 My Day
corn. We were now enduring a sterner siege. The
month of January brought us sleet and storm. Our
famine grew sterner every day. Seasons of bitter
cold weather would find us without wood to burn,
and we had no other fuel. I commenced cutting
down the choice fruit trees in the grounds, and
General Wilcox managed to send me a load of
rails from a fence, hitherto spared by the soldiers.
Poor little Rose could yield only one cupful of
milk, so small was her ration ; but we never thought
of turning the faithful animal into beef. The offi
cers in my yard spared her something every day
from the food of their horses.
The days were so dark and cheerless, the news
from the armies at a distance so discouraging, it was
hard to preserve a cheerful demeanor for the sake
of the family. And now began the alarming tidings,
every morning, of the desertions during the night.
General Wilcox wondered how long his brigade
would hold together at the rate of fifty desertions
every twenty-four hours!
The common soldier had enlisted, not to establish
the right of secession, not for love of the slave,
he had no slaves, but simply to resist the invasion
of the South by the North, simply to prevent sub
jugation. The soldier of the rank and file was not
always intellectual or cultivated. He cared little for
politics, less for slavery. He did care, however, for
his own soil, his own little farm, his own humble
home, and he was willing to fight to drive the in
vader from it. Lincoln's Emancipation Proclama
tion did not stimulate him in the least. The negro,
My Day 239
free or slave, was of no consequence to him. His
quarrel was a sectional one, and he fought for his
section.
In any war the masses rarely trouble themselves
about the merits of the quarrel. Their pugnacity
and courage are aroused and stimulated by the en
thusiasm of their comrades or by their own personal
wrongs and perils.
Now, in January, 1865, the common soldier per
ceived that the cause was lost. He could read its
doom in the famine around him, in the faces of his
officers, in tidings from abroad. His wife and chil
dren were suffering. His duty was now to them ;
so he stole away in the darkness, and in infinite
danger and difficulty found his way back to his own
fireside. He deserted, but not to the enemy.
But what shall we say of the soldier who remained
unflinching at his post knowing the cause was lost
for which he was called to meet death? Heroism
can attain no loftier height than this. Very few of
the intelligent men of our army had the slightest
hope, at the end, of our success. Some, like Mr.
William C. Rives, had none at the beginning.
One night all these things weighed more heavily
than usual upon me, the picket firing, the famine,
the military executions, the dear one " sick and in
prison." I sighed audibly, and my son Theodorick,
who slept near me, asked the cause, adding, " Why
can you not sleep, dear mother ? "
Suppose," I replied, " you repeat something for
me."
He at once commenced, " Tell me not in mourn-
240 My Day
ful numbers " and repeated the " Psalm of Life."
I did not sleep ; those were brave words, but not
strong enough for the situation.
He paused, and presently his young voice broke
the stillness :
" Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within
me, bless His holy name" gi n g n to the end
of the beautiful psalm of adoration and faith which
nineteen centuries have decreed to be in very truth a
Psalm of Life.
That General Lee was acutely sensible of our con
dition was proved by an interview with General
Gordon. Before daylight, on the 2d of March,
General Lee sent for General Gordon, who was with
his command at a distant part of the line. Upon
arriving, General Gordon was much affected by see
ing General Lee standing at the mantel in his room,
his head bowed on his folded arms. The room was
dimly lighted by a single lamp, and a smouldering
fire was dying on the hearth. The night was cold,
and General Lee's room chill and cheerless.
" I have sent for you, General Gordon," said
General Lee, with a dejected voice and manner, " to
make known to you the condition of our affairs and
consult with you as to what we had best do. I have
here reports sent in from my officers to-night. I
find I have under my command, of all arms, hardly
forty-five thousand men. These men are starving.
They are already so weakened as to be hardly
efficient. Many of them have become- desperate,
reckless, and disorderly as they have never been
before.
My Day 24!
" It is difficult to control men who are suffering
for food. They are breaking open mills, barns, and
stores in search of it. Almost crazed from hunger,
they are deserting in large numbers and going home.
My horses are in equally bad condition. The
supply of horses in the country is exhausted. It
has come to be just as bad for me to have a horse
killed as a man. I cannot remount a cavalryman
whose horse dies. General Grant can mount ten
thousand men in ten days and move round your
flank. If he were to send me word to-morrow that
I might move out unmolested, I have not enough
horses to move my artillery. He is not likely to send
me any such message, although he sent me word
yesterday that he knew what I had for breakfast
every morning. I sent him word I did not think
that this could be so, for if he did he would surely
send me something better.
" But now let us look at the figures. As I said, I
have forty-five thousand starving men. Hancock
has eighteen thousand at Winchester. To oppose
him I have not a single vidette. Sheridan, with his
terrible cavalry, has marched unmolested and un
opposed along the James, cutting the railroads and
the canal. Thomas is coming from Knoxville with
thirty thousand well-equipped troops, and I have, to
oppose him, not more than three thousand in all.
Sherman is in North Carolina with sixty-five thou
sand men. So I have forty-five thousand poor fel
lows in bad condition opposed to one hundred and
sixty thousand strong and confident men. These
forces added to General Grant's make over a quarter
242 My Day
of a million. To prevent them all from uniting to
my destruction, and adding Johnston's and Beaure-
gard's men, I can oppose only sixty thousand men.
They are growing weaker every day. Their suffer
ings are terrible and exhausting. My horses are
broken down and impotent. General Grant may press
around our flank any day and cut off our supplies."
As a result of this conference General Lee went
to Richmond to make one more effort to induce our
government to treat for peace. It was on his re
turn from an utterly fruitless errand that he said :
"I am a soldier! It is my duty to obey orders;"
and the final disastrous battles were fought.
It touches me to know now that it was after this
that my beloved commander found heart to turn
aside and bring me comfort. No one knew better
than he all I had endeavored and endured, and my
heart blesses his memory for its own sake. At this
tremendous moment, when he had returned from
his fruitless mission to Richmond, when the attack
on Fort Steadman was impending, when his slender
line was confronted by Grant's ever increasing host,
stretching twenty miles, when the men were so
starved, so emaciated, that the smallest wound meant
death, when his own personal privations were be
yond imagination, General Lee could spend half an
hour for my consolation and encouragement.
Cottage Farm being on the road between head
quarters and Fort Gregg, the fortification which
held General Grant in check at that point, I saw
General Lee almost daily going to this work or to
Battery 45.
My Day 243
I was, as was my custom, sewing in my little par
lor one morning, about the middle of March, when
an orderly entered, saying :
" General Lee wishes to make his respects to Mrs.
Pryor." The general was immediately behind him.
His face was lighted with the anticipation of telling
me his good news. With the high-bred courtesy
and kindness which always distinguished his manner,
he asked kindly after my welfare, and taking my
little girl in his arms, began gently to break his news
to me :
" How long, madam, was General Pryor with me
before he had a furlough ? "
"He never had one, I think," I answered.
" Well, did I not take good care of him until we
camped here so close to you ? "
" Certainly," I said, puzzled to know the drift of
these preliminaries.
" I sent him home to you, I remember," he con
tinued, " for a day or two, and you let the Yankees
catch him. Now he is coming back to be with you
again on parole until he is exchanged. You must
take better care of him in future."
I was too much overcome to do more than stam
mer a few words of thanks.
Presently he added, " What are you going to say
when I tell the general that in all this winter you
have never once been to see me ? "
" Oh, General Lee," I answered, " I had too much
mercy to join in your buttermilk persecution ! "
" Persecution ! " he said ; " such things keep us
alive ! Last night, when I reached my headquarters,
244
I found a card on my table with a hyacinth pinned
to it, and these words : c For General Lee, with a
kiss ! ' Now," he added, tapping his breast, " I
have here my hyacinth and my card and I mean
to find my kiss I "
He was amused by the earnest eyes of my little
girl, as she gazed into his face.
" They have a wonderful liking for soldiers," he
said. " I knew one little girl to give up all her
pretty curls willingly that she might look like Cus-
tis ! c They might cut my hair like Custis's,' she
said. Custis ! whose shaven head does not improve
him in any eyes but hers."
His manner was the perfection of repose and sim
plicity. As he talked with me, I remembered that
I had heard of this singular calmness. Even at
Gettysburg and at the explosion of the crater he
had evinced no agitation or dismay. I did not
know then, as I do now, that nothing had ever
approached the anguish of this moment, when he
had come to say an encouraging and cheering
word to me, after abandoning all hope of the
success of the cause.
After talking awhile and sending a kind message
to my husband, to greet him on his return, he rose,
walked to the window, and looked over the fields,
the fields through which, not many days afterward,
he dug his last trenches !
I was moved to say, "You only, General, can tell
me if it is worth my while to put the ploughshare
into those fields."
"Plant your seeds, madam," he replied; sadly
My Day 245
adding, after a moment, " The doing it will be some
reward."
I was answered. I thought then he had little
hope. I now know he had none.
He had already, as we have seen, remonstrated
against further resistance against the useless shed
ding of blood. His protest had been unheeded.
It remained for him now to gather his forces for en
durance to the end.
Twenty days afterward his headquarters were in
ashes ; he had led his famished army across the
Appomattox, and telling them they had done their
duty and had nothing to regret, he had bidden them
farewell forever.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE day drew near when the husband and father
of our little family was to be restored to his own
home and his own people. Paroled, and not
yet exchanged, we could hope for a brief visit from him.
John was in a great state over the possibilities of a
welcoming banquet. Peas, beans, flour, sorghum
molasses, these in small quantity he might hope
to command. A nourishing soup could be made
of the peas, and if only he could " find " an egg,
he could mix it with sorghum and bake it in an un-
shortened open crust for dessert. But the meat
course !
Just at this critical moment a hapless~duck ven-
tured too near John's acquisitive hand while he was
on one of his prowling expeditions. This he per
fectly roasted and presented to me to be sacredjy
kept until the general's arrival. Accordingly I hid
it away in a small safe with wire-netting doors, and
judiciously covered it over with a cloth lest some
child or visitor should be led into irresistible temp
tation.
We were all expectation and excitement when a
lady drove up and asked for shelter, as she had
been " driven in from the lines." Shelter and lodg
ing I could give by spreading quilts on the parlor
floor but, alas, my duck! Must my precious
duck be sacrificed upon the altar of hospitality ? I
246
My Day 247
peeped into the little safe to assure myself that I
could manage to keep it hidden, and behold, it was
gone ! Not until next day, when it was placed
before my husband with a triumphant flourish (our
unwelcome guest had departed), did I discover that
John had stolen it ! " Why, there's the duck ! " I
exclaimed.
" 'Course here's the duck ! " said John, respect
fully. " Ducks got plenty of sense. They knows
as well as folks when to hide."
We found our released prisoner pale and thin,
but devoutly thankful to be at home. Mr. Con
nolly and the officers around us called in the even
ing, keenly anxious to hear his story and heartily
expressing their joy at his release. My friends in
Washington had wished to send me some presents,
but my husband declined them, accepting only two
cans of pineapple. Mr. Connolly sent out for the
" boys in the yard " and assisted me in dividing the
fruit into portions, so each one should have a bit.
It was served on all the saucers and butter plates
we could find, and Mr. Connolly himself handed
the tray around, exclaiming, " Oh, lads ! it is just
the best thing you ever tasted ! " Then each soldier
brought forth his brier-root and gathered around
the traveller for his story. His story was a thrill
ing one of his capture, his incarceration, his com
rades ; finally of the unexpected result of the efforts
of his ante-bellum friends, Washington McLean and
John W. Forney, for his release.
It was ascertained by these friends in Washington
that he was detained as hostage for the safety of some
248 My Day
Union officer whom the Confederate government
had threatened to put to death. This situation
of affairs left General Pry or in a very dangerous
position. Southern leaders were inclined to take
revenge upon some prominent Union soldiers
in their prisons, and Stanton stood ready to take
counter-revenge upon the body of " Harry Hot
spur." Washington McLean, the editor and proprie
tor of the Cincinnati Enquirer ', had met my husband
while he was in Congress, and learned " to like and
love him," as one expressed it. Realizing the
gravity of his friend's situation, Mr. McLean, hav
ing first approached General Grant, who positively
refused to consider General Pryor's release, resolved
to appeal to Mr. Stanton. He found Mr. Stanton
in the library of his own home, with his daughter in
his arms, and the following conversation ensued :
" This is a charming fireside picture, Mr. Secre
tary ! I warrant that little lady cares nothing for
war or the Secretary of War ! She has her father,
and that fills all her ambition."
" You never said a truer word, did he, pet ? "
pressing the curly head close to his bosom.
" Well, then, Stanton, you will understand my
errand. There are curly heads down there in old
Virginia weeping out their bright eyes for a father
loved just as this pretty baby loves you."
" Yes, yes ! Probably so," said Stanton.
"Now there's Pryor "
But before another word could be said, the Sec
retary of War pushed the child from his knee and
thundered :
My Day 249
" He shall be hanged ! Damn him ! "
But he had reckoned without his host when he
supposed that Washington McLean would not ap
peal from that verdict. Armed with a letter of
introduction from Horace Greeley, Mr. McLean
visited Mr. Lincoln. The President remembered
General Pryor's uniformly generous treatment of
prisoners who had, at various times, fallen into his
custody, especially his capture at Manassas of the
whole camp of Federal wounded, surgeons and
ambulance corps, and his prompt parole of the
same. Mr. Lincoln listened attentively, and after
ascertaining all the facts, issued an order directing
Colonel Burke, the commander at Fort Lafayette,
to " deliver Roger A. Pryor into the custody of
Colonel John W. Forney, Secretary of the Senate,
to be produced by him whenever required."
Armed with this order, Mr. McLean visited Fort
Lafayette, where he found his friend in close con
finement in the casemate with other prisoners. Mr.
McLean immediately secured his release and ac
companied him to Washington and to Colonel
Forney's house.
As is now well known, even a presidential com
mand did not stand in the way of Stanton's ven
geance. When he learned of General Pryor's release,
his rage was unbounded, and he immediately issued
orders to seize the prisoner wherever found, and
announced his intention of hanging him, as a re
sponse to the threats of the Southern leaders. Colo
nel Forney was advised of this condition of affairs,
and at his request his secretary, John Russell Young,
250 My Day
afterwards Minister to China, went to the offices of
the various Washington newspapers and gave each
journal a brief account of how General Pryor had
passed through Washington that evening, and under
parole had entered into the rebel lines. As a matter
of fact, he was at that time in Colonel Forney's
house, and remained there for two more days.
Stanton, however, was made to believe that his prey
had escaped him, and therefore abandoned his
hunt.
At that time John Y. Beall, a Confederate officer,
was confined with General Pryor, having been, it
was supposed, implicated in a conspiracy to set fire
to hotels and museums in New York, derail and
fire railroad trains. Young Beall protested inno
cence, but finally he was arrested, tried by court-
martial, and sentenced to be hanged. He belonged
to an influential Southern family, and was held in
high esteem south of Mason and Dixon's line.
Some of the officials of the Confederacy served
notice on Secretary of War Stanton that if Beall was
hanged, they would put the rope around the necks
of a number of prominent Northern soldiers who
at that time were in their custody. But the stern
Stanton was relentless, and he only sent back word
that if the threat was carried into execution, he would
hang Pryor. Mr. McLean became interested in
young Beall's fate, and suggested that if General
Pryor would make a personal appeal in his behalf to
President Lincoln, his execution might probably be
prevented. To that end, Mr. McLean telegraphed
a request to Mr. Lincoln, that he accord General
My Day 251
Pryor an interview, to which a favorable response
was promptly returned. The next evening General
Pryor, with Mr. McLean and Mr. Forney, called
at the White House, and were graciously received
by the President. General Pryor at once opened
his intercession in behalf of Captain Beall ; but al
though Mr. Lincoln evinced the sincerest compassion
for the young man and an extreme aversion to his
death, he felt constrained to yield to the assurance
of General Dix, in a telegram just received, that the
execution was indispensable to the security of the
Northern cities. Mr. Lincoln then turned the con
versation to the recent conference at Hampton
Roads, the miscarriage of which he deplored with
the profoundest sorrow. He said that had the Con
federate government agreed to the reestablishment
of the Union and the abolition of slavery, the people
of the South might have been compensated for the
loss of their negroes and would have been protected
by a universal amnesty, but that Mr. Jefferson
Davis made the recognition of the Confederacy a
condition sine qua non of any negotiations. Thus,
he declared, would Mr. Davis be responsible for
every drop of blood that should be shed in the
further prosecution of the war, a futile and wicked
effusion of blood, since it was then obvious to every
sane man that the Southern armies must be speedily
crushed. On this topic he dwelt so warmly and at
such length that General Pryor inferred that he still
hoped the people of the South would reverse Mr.
Davis's action, and would renew the negotiations for
peace. Indeed, he declared in terms that he could
252 My Day
not believe the senseless obstinacy of Mr. Davis
represented the sentiment of the South. It was ap
parent to General Pryor that Mr. Lincoln desired
him to sound leading men of the South on the sub
ject. Accordingly, on the general's return to Rich
mond, he did consult with Senator Hunter and
other prominent men in the Confederacy, but with
one voice they assured him that nothing could be
done with Mr. Davis, and that the South had only
to await the imminent and inevitable catastrophe.
The inevitable catastrophe marched on apace.
On the morning of April 2 we were all up early
that we might prepare and send to Dr. Claiborne's
hospital certain things we had suddenly acquired.
An old farmer friend of my husband had loaded a
wagon with peas, potatoes, dried fruit, hominy, and
a little bacon, and had sent it as a welcoming present.
We had been told of the prevalence of scurvy in
the hospitals, and had boiled a quantity of hominy,
and also of dried fruit, to be sent with the potatoes
for the relief of the sick.
My husband said to me at our early breakfast :
" How soundly you can sleep ! The cannon
ading was awful last night. It shook the house."
" Oh, that is only Fort Gregg," I answered.
" Those guns fire incessantly. I don't consider
them. You've been shut up in a casemate so long
you've forgotten the smell of powder."
Our father, who happened to be with us that
morning, said :
" By the bye, Roger, I went to see General Lee,
and told him you seemed to be under the impression
My Day 253
that if your division moves, you should go along
with it. The general said emphatically : c That would
be violation of his parole, Doctor. Your son surely
knows he cannot march with the army until he is
exchanged/ '
This was a great relief to me, for I had been afraid
of a different construction.
After breakfast I repaired to the kitchen to see
the pails filled for the hospital, and to send Alick
and John on their errand.
Presently a message was brought me that I must
join my husband, who had walked out to the forti
fication behind the garden. I found a low earth
work had been thrown up during the night still
nearer our house, and on it he was standing. My
husband held out his hand and drew me up on the
breastwork beside him. Negroes were passing,
wheeling their barrows, containing the spades they
had just used. Below was a plain, and ambulances
were collecting and stopping at intervals. Then a
slender gray line stretched across under cover of the
first earthwork and the forts. Fort Gregg and
Battery 45 were belching away with all their might,
answered by guns all along the line. While we
gazed on all this, the wood opposite seemed alive,
and out stepped a division of bluecoats muskets
shining and banners flying in the morning sun.
My husband exclaimed : " My God ! What a
line ! They are going to fight here right away.
Run home and get the children in the cellar."
When I reached the little encampment be
hind the house, I found the greatest confusion.
254 My Day
Tents were struck, and a wagon was loading
with them.
Captain Glover rode up to me and conjured me
to leave immediately. I reminded him of his
promise not to allow me to be surprised.
" We are ourselves surprised," he said ; " believe
me, your life is not safe here a moment." Tapping
his breast, he continued, " I bear despatches proving
what I say."
I ran into the house, and with my two little chil
dren I started bareheaded up the road to town. I
bade the servants remain. If things grew warm, they
had the cellar, and perhaps their presence would save
their own goods and mine, should the day go against
us. The negroes, in any event, would be safe.
The morning was close and warm, and as we
toiled up the dusty road, I regretted the loss of my
hat. Presently I met a gentleman driving rapidly
from town. It was my neighbor, Mr. Laighton.
He had removed his wife and little girls to a place
of safety and was returning for me. He proposed,
as we were now out of musket range, that I should
rest with the children under the shade of a tree, and
he would return to the house to see if he could save
something what did I suggest? I asked that he
would bring a change of clothing for the children
and my medicine chest.
As we waited for his return, some terrified horses
dashed up the road, one with blood flowing from
his nostrils. When Mr. Laighton finally returned,
he brought news that he had seen my husband, that
my boys were safe with him, that all the cooked
My Day 255
provisions were spread out for the passing soldiers,
and that more were in preparation ; also that he had
promised to take care of me, and to leave the gen
eral free to dispense these things judiciously. John
had put the service of silver into the buggy, and
Eliza had packed a trunk, for which he was to re
turn. This proved to be the French trunk, in which
Eliza sent a change of clothing.
When Mr. Laighton asked where he should go
with us, I had no suggestion to make. Few of my
friends were in the town, which was filled with ref
ugees. My dear Mrs. Meade or Mr. Charles
Campbell would, I was sure, shelter us in an extrem
ity. I decided to drive slowly through the crowded
streets, looking out for some sign of lodgings to let.
Presently we met a man who directed us to an empty
house, and there, dumping the silver service in the
front porch, Mr. Laighton left us. About noon I
had my first news from the seat of war. John and
Alick appeared, the latter leading Rose by a rope.
John was to return (he had come to bring me some
biscuits and my champagne glasses !), but Alick posi
tively rebelled. Go back ! No, marm, not if he
knew his name was Alick. His mammy had never
borned him to be in no battle ! And walking off to
give Rose a pail of water, he informed her that
c You'n me, Rose, is the only folks I see anywhar
'bout here with any sense."
Neighbors soon discovered us ; and to my joy I
found that Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Meade, and Mr.
Bishop one of my father's elders were in their
own houses, very near my temporary shelter.
256 My Day
Our father, I learned afterwards, was with the
hospital service of his corps, and had been sent to
the rear. I sent John back to the farm, strictly
ordering that the flag should be cared for. He told
me it was safe. He had hidden it under some fence
rails in the cellar. As to the battle, he had no news,
except that " Marse Roger is giving away everything
on the earth. All the presents from the farmer will
go in a little while."
In the evening my little boys, envoys from their
father, came in with confidential news. The day
had gone against us. General Lee was holding the
line through our garden. The city would be sur
rendered at midnight. Their father was giving all
our stores of food and all his Confederate money to
the private soldiers, a fact which evidently impressed
them most of all.
I have told the thrilling story of the ensuing events
elsewhere. Having been compelled to repeat much,
I must now hasten on, only briefly recording my
husband's recapture, release on parole, and continued
recapture every time the occupying troops were re
placed by a new division.
The day the Federals entered the town I saw our
precious banner borne in triumph past the door.
The dear Petersburg women had made it and given
it to their brave defender ; it was coming back, amid
shouts and songs of derision, a captive ! As the
troops passed they sang, to their battle hymn :
"John Brown's body is a-mouldering in the ground,
As we go marching on !
Oh, glory hallelujah,
As we go marching on ! * '
My Day 257
And down the line the tune was caught by advancing
soldiers :
" Hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
As we go marching on.
Oh, glory hallelujah," etc.
" Ole Uncle Frank's at de bottom of dis business,"
said Alick ; and alas ! we had reason to believe
that the wily old gentleman whom we had left
hiding in the cellar and imploring " for Gawd's sake,
Jinny, bring me a gode o' water " had purchased
favor by revealing the hiding-place of our banner.
Early that morning German soldiers had rushed
into our house demanding prisoners. My husband
was marched off to headquarters, and the parole
written by Mr. Lincoln himself on a visiting-card
respected. The morning was filled with exciting
incidents. Our English " colonel " came early :
"To say good-by, madam! It's a shame! and
all just a question of bread and cheese nothing
but bread and cheese! "
We sat all day in the front room, watching the
splendidly equipped host as it marched by on its
way to capture Lee. It soon became known that we
were there. Within the next few days we had calls
from old Washington friends. Among others my
husband was visited by Elihu B. Washburne and Sena
tor Henry Wilson, afterward Vice-president of the
United States with General Grant. These paid long
visits and talked kindly and earnestly of the South.
Mr. Lincoln soon arrived and sent for my hus
band. But General Pryor excused himself, saying
that he was a paroled prisoner, that General Lee was
258 My Day
still in the field, and that he could hold no confer
ence with the head of the opposing army.
The splendid troops passed continually. Our
hearts sank within us. We had but one hope
that General Lee would join Joseph E. Johnston and
find his way to the mountains of Virginia, those
ramparts of nature which might afford protection
until we could rest and recruit.
Intelligence of the death of President Lincoln
reached Petersburg on the iyth of April. As he had
been with us but a few days before, manifestly in
perfect health and in all the glow and gladness of
the triumph of the Federal arms, the community
was unspeakably shocked by the catastrophe. That
he fell by the hand of an assassin, and that the deed
was done by a Confederate and avowedly in the in
terest of the Confederate cause, were circumstances
which distressed us with an apprehension that the
entire South would be held responsible for the atro
cious occurrence. The day after the tragic news
reached us, the people of Petersburg in public meet
ing adopted resolutions framed by General Pryor,
deploring the President's death and denouncing his
assassination, resolutions which gave expression
to the earnest and universal sentiment of Virginia.
I question if, in any quarter of the country, the vir
tues of Abraham Lincoln as exhibited in his spirit
of forgiveness and forbearance are more revered
than in the very section which was the battle-ground
of the fight for independence of his rule. It is cer
tainly my husband's conviction that had he lived, the
South would never have suffered the shame and sor
row of the carpet-bag regime.
CHAPTER XXV
MY condition during the military occupation
of Petersburg was extremely unpleasant. I
was alone with my children when General
Sheridan demanded my house for an adjutant's
office. Such alarming rumors had reached us of
outrages committed by marauding parties in the
neighboring counties that my husband had obtained
an extension of his parole to visit his sisters in Not-
toway County. His first information of them was
from finding their garments in a wagon driven by
German soldiers, who, challenged by the barrel of
a pistol, made good their escape, leaving their
plunder behind them. The fate of his sisters was
not discovered for some time. They had found
means to hide when the thieves appeared.
General Sheridan, meanwhile, kept me prisoner in
two rooms for ten days, and very trying was the ex
perience of those days. He called to " make his
respects " to me the day he left, and although I re
ceived him courteously he was fully aware that I
appreciated the indignity he had put upon me and
the record he had made before I met him. He
thanked me for the patience with which I had en
dured the ceaseless noise, tramping, and confusion,
night and day, of the adjutant's office, and apolo
gized for the policy he had adopted all through the
war,
259
260 My Day
"It was the best thing to do," he informed me.
" The only way to stamp out this rebellion was to
handle it without gloves."
I made no answer. " The mailed hand might
crush the women and babes/' I thought, " but never,
never kill the spirit ! "
However, they departed at last leaving me a
huge gas-bill to pay and a house polluted with dirt
and dust. My husband, still a paroled prisoner, at
the end of his leave of absence returned to me and
reported to the authorities.
We had made the acquaintance of General Warren,
who had been superseded by Sheridan and was now
without a command. We grew very fond of him.
He spent many hours with us. Tactful, sympa
thetic, and kind, he never grieved or offended us.
One evening he silently took his seat. Presently he
said :
" I have news which will be painful to you. It
hurts me to tell you, but I think you had rather
hear it from me than from a stranger General Lee
has surrendered."
It was an awful blow to us. All was over. All
the suffering, bloodshed, death all for nothing !
General Johnston's army was surrendered to
General Sherman in North Carolina on April 26.
The banner which had led the armies of the South
through fire and blood to victory, to defeat, in times
of starvation, cold, and friendlessness ; the banner
that many a husband and lover had waved aloft on
a forlorn hope until it fell from his lifeless hands ;
the banner found under the dying boy at Gettysburg,
My Day 261
who had smilingly refused assistance lest it be dis
covered, the banner of a thousand histories was
furled forever, with none so poor to do it reverence.
My dear general was not free until Johnston sur-
endered. His flag was still in the field, but he was
allowed to go to Richmond, twenty miles away, to seek
work of some kind to meet our present necessities.
My servants came in from Cottage Farm, and every
one begged to remain and serve me "for the good " I
had " already done them," but this, of course, I could
not permit. My faithful John protested passion
ately against accepting his freedom, but I was firm
in demanding he should return to his father in Nor
folk. He had earned five dollars in United States
money ; I had five more which my little boys had
gained in a small cigar speculation. This I gave
him.
" Now don't let me see you here to-morrow, John.
Write to me from Norfolk."
The next morning he was gone, and I had a grate
ful letter from his old father, who expressed, how
ever, some anxiety about his " army habits."
We had soon occasion to regret the absence of the
protecting soldiers. Almost immediately a tall,
lantern-jawed young fellow with a musket on his
shoulder marched in. I was alone, and he walked
up to me with a threatening aspect.
" What do you want here ? " I demanded.
" I want whiskey d'ye hear ? Whiskey ! "
"You'll not get it!"
"Wall, I rayther guess you'll have to scare it up !
I'll search the house."
262 My Day
" Search away," I blithely requested him. " Search
away, and I'll call the provost guard to help you ! "
He turned and marched out. At the door he
sent me a Parthian arrow.
" Wall ! You've got a damned tongue in yer
head ef you ain't got no whiskey."
I repeat this story because my husband has always
considered it a good one too good to be forgotten !
The time now came when I must draw rations
for my family. I could not do this by proxy. I
was required to present my request in person. As
I walked through the streets in early morning, I
thought I had never known a lovelier day. How
could nature spread her canopy of blossoming mag
nolia and locust as if nothing had happened? How
could the vine over the doorway of my old home
load itself with snowy roses, how could the birds
sing, how could the sun rise, as if such things as
these could ever again gladden our broken hearts ?
My dear little sons understood they were to es
cort me everywhere, so we presented ourselves to
gether at the desk of the government official and
announced our errand.
" Have you taken the oath of allegiance, madam ? "
inquired that gentleman.
" No, sir." I was quite prepared to take the
oath.
The young officer looked at me seriously for a
moment, and said, as he wrote out the order :
" Neither will I require it of you, madam ! "
I was in better spirits after this pleasant incident,
and calling to Alick, I bade him arm himself with
My Day 263
the largest basket he could find and take my order
to the commissary.
" We are going to have all sorts of good things,"
I told him, " fresh meat, fruit, vegetables, and
everything."
When the boy returned, he presented a drooping
figure and a woebegone face. My first unworthy
suspicion suggested his possible confiscation of my
stores for drink, for which my poor Alick had a
weakness, but he soon explained.
" I buried that ole stinkin' fish ! I wouldn't
bring it in your presence. An' here's the meal they
give me."
Hairy caterpillars were jumping through the
meal ! I turned to my table and wrote :
u Is the commanding general aware of the nature of the
ration issued this day to the destitute women of Peters
burg ?
[Signing myself] " MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR."
This I gave to Alick, with instructions to present
it, with the meal, to General HartsufF.
Alick returned with no answer ; but in a few min
utes a tall orderly stood before me, touched his cap,
and handed me a note.
" Major-General HartsufF is sorry he cannot make right
all that seems so wrong. He sends the enclosed. Some
day General Pryor will repay.
" GEORGE L. HARTSUFF,
" Major-General Commanding."
The note contained an official slip of paper :
264 My Day
" The Quartermaster and Commissary of the Army of
the Potomac are hereby ordered to furnish Mrs. Roger A.
Pryor with all she may demand or require, charging the
same to the private account of
" GEORGE L. HARTSUFF,
" Major-General Commanding."
Without the briefest deliberation I wrote and re
turned the following reply :
" Mrs. Roger A. Pryor is not insensible to the generous
offer of Major-General HartsufF, but be ought to have known
that the ration allowed the destitute women of Petersburg
must be enough for
" MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR."
As I sat alone, revolving various schemes for our
sustenance, the selling of the precious testimonial
service (given by the democracy of Virginia after
my husband's noble fight against "Know-nothing-
ism"), the possibility of finding occupation for my
self, the jingling of chain harness at the door
arrested my attention. There stood a handsome
equipage, from which a very fine lady indeed was
alighting. She bustled in with her lace-edged hand
kerchief to her eyes, and announced herself as Mrs.
HartsufF. She was superbly gowned in violet silk
and lace, with a tiny fane bon bonnet tied beneath an
enormous cushion of hair behind, the first of the
fashionable chignons I had seen, an arrangement
called a "waterfall," an exaggeration of the plethoric,
distended " bun " of the Englishwoman of a few
years ago.
My Day 265
I found myself, all at once, conscious that I must,
in this lady's eyes, resemble nothing so much as the
wooden Mrs. Noah, who presides over the animals
in the children's " Noah's arks." Enormous hoops
were then in fashion. I had long since been aban
doned by mine, and never been able to get my own
consent to borrow, as others did, from a friendly
grape-vine. My gown was of chocolate-colored
calico with white spots. My hair ! I had torn it
out by the roots when I was delirious at the time of
the fierce battle of Port Walthall (six miles from
Petersburg), which I had beard, my senses being
quickened by fever.
Mrs. Hartsuff began hurriedly : " Oh, my dear
lady, we are in such distress at headquarters !
George is in despair! You won't let him help you!
Whatever is he to do ? "
" I really am grateful to the general," I assured
her ; " but you see there is no reason he should do
more for me than for others."
" Oh, but there is reason. You have suffered
more than the rest. You have been driven from
your home ! Your house has been sacked. George
knows all about you. I have brought a basket for
you tea, coffee, sugar, crackers."
" I cannot accept it, I am sorry."
" But what are you going to do? Are you
going to starve? "
" Very likely," I said, "but somehow I shall not
very much mind !"
" Oh, this is too utterly, utterly dreadful ! " said
the lady as she left the room.
266 My Day
The next day the ration was changed. Fresh
meat, coffee, sugar, and canned vegetables were
issued to all the women of Petersburg. The first
morning they were received I met the wife of
General Weisiger trudging along with a basket.
"Going for your rations?" I asked her. "No
indeed! I'm going, with the only five dollars I
have in the world, to the sutler's ! I shall buy, as
far as it goes, currants, citron, raisins, sugar, butter,
eggs, brandy, spice -
" Mercy ! Are you to open a grocery ? "
"Not a bit of it" solemnly "I'm going to
make a fruit cake!"
Less, one might think, should have contented a
starving woman ! The little incident is characteristic
of the Southern woman's temperament. She can lie as
patiently as another under the heel of a hard fate, but
the moment the heel is lifted she is ready for a festival.
All the citizens who had been driven away now
began to return among them the owners of the
house I was occupying, and I was compelled to re
turn to Cottage Farm. General Hartsuff, to whom
I applied for a guard, said at once : -
" It is impossible for you to go to Cottage Farm;
there are fifty or more negroes on the place. You
cannot live there."
" I must ! It is my only shelter."
" Well, then, I'll allow you a guard, and Mrs.
Hartsuff had better take you out herself, that is, if
you can condescend to accept as much."
I was not aware that Mrs. Hartsuff had entered
and stood behind me.
My Day 267
" And I think, George," she said, " you ought to
give Mrs. Pryor a horse and cart in place of her
own that were stolen." Before my conscience
could strengthen itself to protest that I had not
owned a horse and cart, the general exclaimed : " All
right, all right ! Madam, you will find the guard at
your door when you arrive. You go this evening ?
All right good morning."
Mrs. Hartsuff duly appeared in the late afternoon
with an ambulance and four horses, and we departed
in fine style. She was very cheery and agreeable,
and made me promise to let her come often to see
me. As we were galloping along in state, we
passed a line of weary-looking dusty Confederate
soldiers, limping along, on their way to their homes.
They stood aside to let us pass. I was cut to the
heart at the spectacle. Here was I, accepting the
handsome equipage of the invading commander I,
who had done nothing, going on to my comfort
able home ; while they, poor fellows, who had borne
long years of battle and starvation, were mournfully
returning on foot, to find, perhaps, no home to shel
ter them. cc Never again," I said to myself, cc shall
this happen ! If I cannot help, I can at least
suffer with them."
But when I reached Cottage Farm, I found a home
that no soldier, however forlorn, could have en
vied me. A scene of desolation met my eyes.
The earth was ploughed and trampled, the grass and
flowers were gone, the carcasses of six dead cows
lay in the yard, and filth unspeakable had gathered
in the corners of the house. The evening air
268 My Day
was heavy with the odor of decaying flesh. As the
front door opened, millions of flies swarmed forth.
" If this were I," said Mrs. HartsufF, as she
gathered her skirts as closely around her as her
hoops would permit, " I should fall across this
threshold and die."
" I shall not fall," I said proudly ; " I shall stand
in my lot."
Within was dirt and desolation. Pieces of fat
pork lay on the floors, molasses trickled from
the library shelves, where bottles lay uncorked.
Filthy, malodorous tin cans were scattered on the
floors. Nothing, not even a tin dipper to drink
out of the well, was left in the house, except one
chair out of which the bottom had been cut and
one bedstead fastened together with bayonets.
Picture frames were piled against the wall. I
eagerly examined them. Every one was empty.
One family portrait of an old lady was hanging on
the wall with a sabre cut across her face.
To my great joy Aunt Jinny appeared, full of
sympathy and resource. She gathered us into her
kitchen while she swept the cleanest room for us
and spread quilts upon the floor. Later in the
evening an ambulance from Mrs. HartsufF drove
up. She had sent me a tin box of bread and but
ter sandwiches, some tea, an army cot, and army
bedding.
The guard, a great tall fellow, came to me for
orders. I felt nervous at his presence and wished
I had not brought him. I directed him to watch
all night at the road side of the house, while I would
My Day 269
sit up and keep watch in the opposite direction.
The children soon slept upon the floor.
As the night wore on, I grew extremely anxious
about the strange negroes. Aunt Jinny thought
there were not more than fifty. They had filled
every outhouse except the kitchen. Suppose they
should overpower the guard and murder us all !
Everything was quiet. I had not the least dis
position to sleep thinking, thinking of all the old
woman had told me : of the sacking of the house, of
the digging of the cellar in search of treasure, of the
torch that had twice been applied to the house and
twice withdrawn because some officer wanted the
shaded dwelling for a temporary lodging. Presently
I was startled by a shrill scream from the kitchen, a
door opened suddenly and shut, and a voice cried :
"Thank Gawd! Thank Gawd A'mighty ! " Then
all was still.
Was this a signal ? I held my breath and
listened, then softly rose, closed the shutters and
fastened them, crept to the door, and bolted it in
side. I might defend my children till the guard
could come.
Evidently he had not heard ! He was probably
sleeping the sleep of an untroubled conscience on
the bench in the front porch. And with untroubled
consciences my children were sleeping. It was so
dark in the room I could not see their faces, but I
could touch them, and push the wet locks from
their brows, as they lay in the close and heated
atmosphere.
I resumed my watch at the window, pressing my
270 My Day
face close to the slats of the shutters. A pale half-
moon hung low in the sky, turning its averted face
from a suffering world. At a little distance I
could see the freshly made soldier's grave which
Alick had discovered and reported. A heavy rain
had fallen in the first hours of the night, and a stiff
arm and hand now protruded from the shallow
grave. To-morrow I would reverently cover the
appealing arm, be it clad in blue or in gray, and
would mark the spot. Now, as I sat with my
fascinated gaze upon it, I thought of the tens of
thousands, of the hundreds of thousands of up
turned faces beneath the green sod of old Virginia.
Strong in early manhood, grave, high-spirited men
of genius, men whom their country had educated
for her own defence in time of peril, they had died
because that country could devise in her wisdom no
better means of settling a family quarrel than the
wholesale slaughter of her sons by the sword. And
now? "Not until the heavens be no more shall
they awake nor be raised out of their sleep."
And then, as I sorrowed for their early death in
loneliness and anguish, I remembered the white-
robed souls beneath the altar of God, the souls
that had " come out of great tribulation," and
because they had thus suffered "they shall hunger
no more, neither thirst any more ; . . . and God shall
wipe away all tears from their eyes."
And then, as the pale, distressful moon sank be
hind the trees, and the red dawn streamed up from
the east, the Angel of Hope, who had "spread her
white wings and sped her away " for a little season,
My Day 271
returned. And Hope held by the hand an angel
stronger than she, who bore to me a message: "In
the world ye have tribulations ; but be of good
cheer ; I have overcome the world.'*
The sun was rising when I saw my good old
friend emerge from her kitchen, and I opened the
shutters to greet her. She had brought me a cup
of delicious coffee, and was much distressed because
I had not slept. Had I heard anything?
" 'Course I know you was bleeged to hear," said
Aunt Jinny, as she bustled over the children.
" That was Sis' Winny ! She got happy in the
middle of the night, an' Gawd knows what she
would have done if Frank hadn't ketched hold
of her and pulled her back in the kitchen ! Frank
an' me is pretty nigh outdone an' discouraged 'bout
Sis' Winny. She prays constant all day ; but Gawd
A'mighty don't count on being bothered all night.
Ain't He 'ranged for us all to sleep, an' let Him
have a little peace ? Sis' Winny must keep her
happiness to herself, when folks is trying to git some
res'."
The guard now came to my window to say he
" guessed " he'd " have to put on some more harness.
Them blamed niggers refused to leave. They might
change their minds when they saw the pistols."
" Oh, you wouldn't shoot, would you ? " I said
in great distress. " Call them all to the back door
and let me speak with them." I found myself in
the presence of some seventy-five negroes, men,
women, and children, all with upturned faces, keenly
interested in what I should say to them.
272 My Day
I talked to them kindly and explained my pres
ence, asking them to remain, if they would help
clean the yard, with the result that Abram and
Beverly, two old men who had known my general
in his boyhood, pledged themselves to stay with me
on the terms I suggested.
To my great joy, my dear husband returned from
Richmond. There was no hope there for lucrative
occupation. He had no profession. He had for
gotten all the little law he had learned at the uni
versity. He had been an editor, diplomat, politician,
and soldier, and distinguished himself in all four.
These were now closed to him forever ! There
seemed to be no room for a rebel in all the world.
CHAPTER XXVI
WE found it almost impossible to take up our
lives again. All the cords binding us to the
past were severed, beyond the hope of re
union. We sat silently looking out on a landscape
marked here and there by chimneys standing sen
tinel over blackened heaps, where our neighbors
had made happy homes. Only one remained, Mr.
Green's, beyond a little ravine across the road.
We had, fortunately, no inclination to read. A
few books had been saved, only those for which we
had little use. A soldier walked in one day with a
handsome volume which Jefferson Davis, after in
scribing his name in it, had presented to the general.
The soldier calmly requested the former owner to
be kind enough to add to the value of the volume
by writing beneath the inscription his own auto
graph, and his request granted, walked off with it
under his arm. "He has been at some trouble,"
said my husband, " and he had as well be happy if I
cannot ! "
As the various brigades moved away from our
neighborhood, a few plain articles of furniture that
had been taken from the house were restored to
us, but nothing handsome or valuable, no books
nor pictures, just a few chairs and tables. I had
furnished an itemized list of all the articles we had
lost, with only this result.
T 273
274 My Day
We had news after a while of our blooded mare,
Lady Jane. A letter enclosing her photograph came
from a New England officer:
u To MR. PRYOR,
" Dear Sir : A very fine mare belonging to you came into
my camp near Richmond and is now with me. It would
add much to her value if I could get her pedigree. Kindly
send it at your earliest convenience, and oblige,
u Yours truly,
ic t
" P.S. The mare is in good health, as you will doubtless
be glad to know."
Disposed as my general was to be amiable, this
was a little too much ! The pedigree was not sent,
but later the amiable owner of Lady Jane sent her
photograph. Also his own on her back.
A great number of tourists soon began to pass our
house on their way to visit the localities near us,
now become historic. They frequently called upon
us, claiming some common acquaintance. We could
not but resent this. Their sympathetic attitude of
fended us, sore and proud as we were.
We were perfectly aware that they wished to see us,
and not to gain, as they affected, information about
the historic localities on the farm. Still less did
they desire ignobly to triumph over us. A boy,
when he tears off the wings of a fly, is much inter
ested in observing its actions, not that he is cruel
far from it ! He is only curious to see how the
creature will behave under very disadvantageous
circumstances.
My Day 275
One day a clergyman called, with a card of intro
duction from Mrs. Hartsuff, who had, I imagine,
small discernment as regards clergymen. This one
was a smug little man, sleek, unctuous, and trim,
with Pecksniffian self-esteem oozing out of every
pore of his face.
" Well, madam," he commenced, " I trust I find
you lying meekly under the chastening rod of the
Lord. I trust you can say * it is good I was
afflicted/ '
Having no suitable answer just ready, I received
his pious exhortation in silence. One can always
safely do this with a clergyman.
" There are seasons," continued the good man,
" when chastisement must be meted out to the trans
gressor; but if borne in the right spirit, the rod may
blossom with blessings in the end."
A little more of the same nature wrung from me
the query, " Are there none on the other side who
need the rod ? "
"Oh well, now my dear lady! You must
consider ! You were in the wrong in this unhappy
contest, or, I should say, this most righteous
war."
" VCR metis I " I exclaimed. " Our homes were
invaded. We are on our own soil ! "
My reverend brother grew red in the face. Ris
ing and bowing himself out, he sent me a Parthian
arrow :
" No thief e'er felt the halter draw
With good opinion of the law. ' '
276 My Day
Fortunately my general was absent at the moment.
Like the Douglas, he had endured much, but
" Last and worst, Co spirit proud
To bear the pity of the crowd ' '
this was more than he could endure.
The suggestive odors within doors could never be
stifled or cleansed away. Not before October
could I get my consent to eat a morsel in the house.
I took my meals under the trees, unless driven by
the rains to the shelter of the porch. I suffered terri
bly for want of occupation. I had no household to
manage, no garments to mend or make. My little
Lucy could not bear the sun, and she sat quietly
beside me all day. I could have made a sun-bonnet
for her, but I had no fabric, no thimble, needles,
thread, or scissors. Finally I discovered in the pocket
of one of my Washington coats my silver card-case
with Trinity Church on one side and the Capitol at
Washington on the other, objects I had now no
right to hold dear. I made Alick drive me in my
little farm cart to the sutler's and effected an exchange
for a small straw " Shaker " bonnet which I am sure
could have been purchased for less than one dollar.
Protected with this, the little girl found a play-house
under the trees. A good old friend, Mr. Kemp,
invited the boys to accompany him upon relic-hunt
ing expeditions to the narrow plain which had divided
the opposing lines on that fateful April morning
just three months before. Ropes were fastened
around extinct shells, and they were hauled in, to
stand sentinel at the door. The shells were short
My Day 277
cylinders, with one pointed end like a candle
before it is lighted. Numbers of minie balls were
dug out of the sand. One day Mr. Kemp brought
in a great curiosity two bullets welded together,
having been shot from opposing rifles.
The sultry days were begun and rounded by hours
of listless endurance followed by troubled sleep. A
bag of army " hard-tack " stood in a corner, so the
children were never hungry. Presently they, too,
sat around us, too listless to play or talk. A great
army of large, light brown Norway rats now overran
the farm. They would walk to the corner before
our eyes and help themselves to the army ration.
We never moved a finger to drive them away.
After a while Alick appeared with an enormous
black-and-white cat.
" Dis is jest a lettle mo'n I can stand/' said Alick.
" De Yankees has stole ev'rything, and dug up de
whole face o* de yearth and de Jews comes all de
time and pizens de well, droppin' down chains an'
grapplin'-irons to see ef we-all has hid silver but
I ain' obleedged to stan' sassyness fum dese out
landish rats."
Alick had to surrender. The very first night
after the arrival of his valiant cat there was a scuffle
in the room where the crackers were kept, a chair
was overturned, and a flying cat burst through the
hall, pursued by three or four huge rats. The cat
took refuge in a tree, and stealthily descending at
an opportune moment, stole away and left the field
to the enemy.
Of course there could be but one result from this
278 My Day
life. Malaria had hung over us for weeks, and now
one after another of the children lay down upon the
" pallets " on the floor, ill with fever. Then I suc
cumbed and was violently ill. Our only nurse was
my dear general ; and not in all the years when he
never shirked a duty, nor lost a march, nor rode on
his own horse when his men toiled on foot or if
one failed by the way, nor ever lost one of the
battles in which he personally led them, not in all
those trying times was he nobler, grander than in
his long and lonely vigils beside his sick family.
And most nobly did the aged negress, my blessed
Aunt Jinny, stand by us. My one fevered vision
was of an ebony idol.
General and Mrs. Hartsuffwere terribly afraid of
the Southern fevers, but sent us sympathetic mes
sages from the gate. But as soon as I could receive
him, Captain Gregory, the commissary general, sought
an interview with me. General HartsufF had sent
him to say that it was absolutely necessary for Gen
eral Pryor to leave Virginia. He had never been
pardoned. There were men in power who con
stantly hinted at punishment and retribution. He
had been approached by General Hartsuff and ve
hemently refused to leave his family.
"Where, oh, where could he go?" I pleaded.
" He does think sometimes of New Orleans."
" Madam," said Captain Gregory, " there is a
future before your husband. New York is the
place for him."
"He will never, never consent to go there," I
said.
My Day 279
" Well, then, we must use a little diplomacy.
Send him by sea to shake off his chills. Mark my
words as soon as he registers in New York, friends
will gather around him. Only send him and speed
ily. I come from General Hartsuff."
My Theo was listening to this conversation, and
when Captain Gregory left, he implored me to obey
him. Without consulting his father the old horse
General HartsufFhad given me was hitched to the
little cart, and we set forth to find some broker
who would lend us a small sum, receiving my watch
and diamond ring as pledges for repayment.
After several failures we found an obliging banker
who lent me, upon my proposed security, three
hundred dollars. As I left his office my hand
instinctively sought my little watch to learn the hour.
It was gone! pledged to send my general to New
York. I bought some quinine and ordered my
husband's tailor to make without delay a suit of
clothes to replace the threadbare uniform of Confed
erate gray. It was difficult to persuade the wearer
to accept the proposition which was only for the
sea voyage in order to break the chills that shook
him so relentlessly every third day. Nothing was
farther from my thought or wishes than a permanent
residence in New York.
CHAPTER XXVII
IT was supposed that my husband would be ab
sent only a week. The following letter from
New York explains his delay :
" I had intended leaving here yesterday, but our friend,
General Warren, invited me for dinner Sunday. I find him
in a handsome house in a fashionable quarter of the city.
Mrs. Warren inquired kindly about you. She has two
charming sisters of our Gordon's age.
" What will you think when I tell you that several
gentlemen suggest to me to settle here ? Dare I ' then,
to beard the lion in his den the Douglas in his hall!'
Not in his ' hall,' certainly, unless I am very specially in
vited by him, but I might in time wrestle with him, in a
court-room. I have a mind to try it. 'The world is all
before us where to choose.' I shouldn't like the Douglas
to find out I have forgotten all the law I ever knew.
Neither would I like my good old Professor Minor (if he
reads the N. Y. reports) to make a similar discovery."
Close upon this letter followed another.
" I am not yet determined when to return. I was to
leave this morning, but Mr. Ben Wood of the News has
requested me to remain a day or two that he might have a
talk with me. What this means, I am not sure. I con
jecture he will propose some connection with his paper.
By the last of the week you may expect me with you."
The last of the week found him still in New York.
Early in October he wrote :
280
My Day 281
u I have accepted Mr. Wood's proposition for the present.
The only difficulty I see is the fact that they refuse me a
pardon. If they learn that I am writing for the News,
they may send me to keep company with John Mitchell.
I understand that charges are constantly made against me
in Washington. Whatever they are, they are false,
trumped up to serve some sinister purpose. Yet I am re
solved not to degrade myself by any abject submission. I
have never solicited c pardon,' and I mean to approach them
with no further overture.
" I am so glad you liked the box. Don't scold me for
extravagance. You have suffered long enough for the mere
decencies of life. I am going to work like a beaver and
with no other purpose now than to earn a living for my
dear wife and children. Ambition ! The ambition of my
life is to have my darlings settled in comfort. May God
assist me in the endeavor !
"My room is at 47 West I2th Street. There you
must send my winter clothes and we must try, whatever
is left undone, to send the boys to school."
But after a week or two he became discouraged at
the cost of living in New York, and wavered again.
" I feel I cannot bear a long separation from my dear
family my darling little ones. And yet how can I main
tain them here ? Is it not a cruel fortune which tears us
asunder when our delight in each other is about the only
source of happiness left us in this world ? I shall lose, in
this hopeless grind, all the elastic energy of my mind. I
cannot live without you ! Do you advise me to continue
my connection with the News ? Twenty-five dollars a
week is a pitiful sum, but how can I do better ? If I can
only procure the comforts of life for my family ! That is
my only object in life fame, ambition, office, all these
282 My Day
things I have renounced forever. Is it not hard that one
should be baffled in so reasonable an endeavor ? I can
leave here at any moment, my connection with the paper
being that of a mere contributor. I am not at all respon
sible for its course, but only for my own articles."
Early in December my husband wrote me the
following letter :
"I am still the victim of ague and fever the worst I
ever suffered. The chill comes on every alternate day, and
during its continuance about two hours I am tortured
with the most agonizing nausea, followed by fever. Thus
I spend two days in every week. Dr. Whitehead attends
me and expects to relieve me, but meanwhile it is very an
noying to be so stricken just as one enters the fight.
" For I have entered the fight ! The die is cast and
here I mean to remain, l sink or swim, survive or perish.'
This is the way it has all come about.
u Sitting late one night with Mr. Ben Wood in the
News office, he turned to me and said rather abruptly,
c General, why don't you practise law ? You would make
$10,000 a year/ I answered, 'For the best of all
possible reasons I am not a lawyer.' He replied,
' Neither is C, nor T; yet they make $io,OOO a year.'
" Of course the idea of my ever making so great a sum
was too preposterous for a moment's thought. Neverthe
less, Mr. Wood pressed the appeal ; and being enforced by
Me Masters of the Freeman's Journal, it made an impression
on my mind. I said nothing to you about it at the time,
because I had, until within the last few weeks, reached no
decision in the matter. But just then I received an invita
tion from Mr. Luke Cozzens for temporary desk room in
his office and the use of his library. I have really borrowed
books and been studying law in my leisure hours ever since
I came to the city, and I now resolved to make applica-
My Day 283
tion for admittance to the Bar ! The application was made
by James T. Brady, the most eminent of our forensic ora
tors. I was required to make affidavit of my residence in
the State, and some other formal facts, but such was my
ignorance of legal procedure that I was unable to draw the
affidavit, which Judge Barnard perceiving, he kindly drew
the paper for me. Thereupon the Hon. John B. Haskins
my former associate in Congress was appointed to
examine me as to my knowledge of Law. Under his lead
we went to a restaurant. When seated he proceeded, with
much solemnity of manner, to 'examine* me. He asked
me, l What are the essentials of the negotiability of a note ? '
This question I was prepared to answer, and did answer to
his satisfaction.
"After a 'judicial pause,' he asked gravely, ' What will
you take ? '
"This also I was fully prepared to answer and entirely
to his satisfaction.
" He asked me no other question. He was apparently
satisfied with the good sense of my last answer. We re
turned to the Court, and he reported in favor of my appli
cation !
" Still an insuperable obstacle to my practising was an
inability to procure an office, for my desk room at Mr.
Cozzens's was not suitable for my new dignity. This diffi
culty has been removed by the offer of Mr. Hughes (an
English ' sympathizer ') to allow me the use of one of his
two rooms for the nominal price of $i a month in
Tryon Row. Both he and I have learned since that this
is considered an undesirable locality a fact of which we
were ignorant, but here I must remain until I can better
myself. My room is perfectly bare a carpetless floor,
plain uncovered table, and three chairs one for myself,
and the others for possible clients. Here I have swung out
my modest shingle soliciting the patronage of the public.
284 My Day
" I have commenced attending the Courts regularly and
have heard the leading lawyers. I am not vain, as you
know, but I am not afraid of them ! But when, when
shall I have a chance ? The great difficulty in my way is
the prejudice against c rebels ' ; and that I am sorry to see
is not diminishing. I hope to wear it away after a while
if, meantime, I do not starve. It is my last cast and I
am resolved to succeed or perish in the attempt. Several
New York papers have spoken of my residence here with
kindness and compliment, but a silly sneer in the Boston
Post under which I am fool enough to suffer cut me
to the heart, trifling and flippant as it is : c The Rebel Pryor
has opened an office in New York for the practice of the
Law, but he has not yet had a rap.' (R. A. P.).
u Look now for uninteresting letters. It will be study,
study, study, ever after this ! I am writing now at night,
with a languid head. My children my dear children !
How I love them ! God bless them ! "
He wrote, December 28:
" My prospects here had brightened a little with the
promise of a case that would, in time, have yielded me two
hundred dollars, but a friendly priest (and he was wise) per
suaded the parties to settle out of Court, and so my hopes
were dashed to the ground. But I am retained, provisionally,
as counsel for the National Express Company, from which
I may make something. My thoughts at Christmas in my
lonely office were with my precious household at Cottage
Farm. How I regretted my want of money would not
permit me to send some holiday presents, but we must bear
these privations till happier days. I longed to go to you .
but had no money to defray the expense of the trip.
Dearest Sara, let us endure these trials with all possible
fortitude. If only you can keep happy, I can bear my por
tion of the burden."
My Day 285
In February he wrote me :
" To-day I make a reckoning of my earnings since my
residence in New York. I was admitted to the Bar about
the first of December. I have been c practising,' then, about
two months and a half. Well, my receipts for sundry
small services have been $356, and I am retained by
an express company. I wonder if this looks as if we are
' out of the woods/ Unhappily I have had to pay a debt
incurred when I was in Fort Lafayette, and for which I had
provided money, but it was embezzled by a dishonest
quartermaster at the Fort. Then the small debts we owed
when we left Washington and which, you remember, the
Confederate Government 'confiscated ' and for which ex
acted payment have simply waited for me to get work,
and these I must promptly pay. However, I am hopeful.
God grant my anticipations may be realized.
" I have some little money owing to me and some doubt
ful claims, and the Court and lawyers treat me with marked
courtesy. I study intensely and am as diligent as possible
in attention to my duties. I mean at least to deserve
success which is the surest way to realize it. Kiss the
chicks !
u Devotedly,
" R. A. P.
ct P.S. A client interrupts me ! Don't be depressed,
Sallie ! A gleam of light gilds our horizon, which has been
dark, God knows, long enough. Next summer we must
have our home, and won't it be a happy home ? God grant
it. God bless us all."
Alas, the next letter announced the fading of the
" gleam of light " into darkness and disappointment.
ct I thought I had two good cases this week, but my
clients decided not to sue. Oh, how weary I am of this
286 My Day
life ! But there is no escape, and I must not despond.
Stimulate the boys to diligence in their studies. Is Billy
still mischievous ? And Lucy demure ? Ah, Fan ! apple of
my eye, how I love you ! How I long to see you all !
The bright, the happy day will soon come, I pray.
Heaven only knows how I pine for my family ; but my
first duty is to feed them, and until that is accomplished I
must forego every personal gratification.
" I am convinced the chief obstacle to my success is
the prejudice against c rebels.' That is fearful, and I
feel its effects every day. I was lately employed as a
referee to report the facts in an application for the dis
charge of a prisoner by the process of habeas corpus.
When my name as referee was announced, one of the
counsel arose and protested to the Court that he would
not appear before a rebel whose hands were yet red with
loyal blood. Thereupon, of course, I declined the ap
pointment. Still, I must toil on, nothing disheartened.
The memory of the little household at Cottage Farm animates
and sustains me in my troubles. May God bless and
prosper us !
u Devotedly,
" R. A. P."
My dear aunt had now joined me with my
little girls. One night I was awakened by a voice
speaking to me under my window. There stood a
negro man. " Mr. Green wants you right away,
madam," he said. " He thinks he's dying, an* he
says he is obliged to see you. I brought a note."
The note from a relative of Mr. Green confirmed
the man's statement, adding : " Let nothing prevent
your coming. George will take care of you."
My aunt felt a little nervous at so strange and
My Day 287
peremptory a summons, but at last we decided I
must go. She could see me in the moonlight every
step of the way, down the path, across the little
bridge at the bottom of the ravine, and up the ascent
beyond. So I dressed hurriedly and departed.
I found the house in darkness and silence. The
lady who had written me took me into her room
and whispered her story. Mr. Green was extremely
ill and in great distress because he had made no will.
The house was full of his relatives, gathered because
his death was expected. He wished to leave every
thing he possessed to his wife and youngest daughter,
Nannie. He had provided for the others given
them their portion. He could not secretly summon
a lawyer from town. He was miserably anxious,
sleepless, and unhappy.
To-night he had found himself alone with this
relative who was nursing him, and drawing her down
to his pillow, had begged her " Send for Mrs. Pryor
now and quick. She will write for me/'
I knew him only by sight, and I was, of course,
surprised. But I did not hesitate. I was at once
introduced into his room, and by the light of a
solitary candle burning upon the floor in a cor
ner I dimly discerned the gray head and closed
eyes of the sick man. He was sleeping peacefully,
and we dared not awaken him. Pen, ink, and
paper were given me, and prone upon my elbows and
knees in the dim corner, I wrote a will, repeating
faithfully the words I had received, beginning :
"In the name of Almighty God Amen I,
William Green," etc.
288 My Day
We then awaited in silence the waking of the sick
man. Very gently I told him my errand, and read
twice what I had written, asking him again and
again, " Are you sure you do not wish to leave any
thing whatever to your other children? " " No, no,
no ! " he answered. I put my arm beneath him,
raised him, and the paper was laid on a pillow before
him. He looked around helplessly. His spec
tacles ! We placed them, and with the pen in
trembling fingers he signed his name, and uttered
the last words he probably ever spoke, " Three
witnesses ! " His relative signed, I signed, and the
negro nurse signed with her mark.
"Now I'll send you home," said his friend, when
we left the room. " No," I said, " I can do nothing
clandestine. I must stay and tell his relatives how
I come to be here."
Very early they all assembled and I said : " I was
sent for by your father last night to write his will. If
it should displease any one of you, remember he
only used my hand. He understood perfectly
what he was doing."
" I am sure it is all right, as far as I am concerned,"
said one. " I have always known this place was to be
left to me."
" I know nothing I can reveal, " I assured her.
That day Mr. Green died. His will was ad
mitted to probate and never contested.
Early in February old Abram, the faithful servant
in whose care my husband left me, announced that
we had reached the end of all our resources at Cot
tage Farm. Rose, the little cow, had died, the tur-
My Day 289
nips and potatoes Abram had raised were all gone,
the two pigs he had reared had fulfilled their destiny
long ago, and the government rations had ceased.
He "could scuffle along himself, but 'twa'n't no
use to pertend " he could " take care of mistis an'
the chilluns, not like they ought to be took care of."
" We must not despair, Abram," I said. " We'll
feed the children, never fear ! I must plan some
thing to help."
" Plannin' ain't no 'count, mistis, less'n you got
sump'n to work on. What we-all goin' to do for
wood ? "
" What you have done all along, I suppose."
" No'm. Dat's onpossible. We done burn up
Fort Gregg an' Battery 45. Der ain' no mo' fortifi
cations on de place as I knows of."
" Fortifications ! " I exclaimed. " Why, Abram !
you surely haven't been burning the fortifications ! "
" Hit's des like I tell you, mistis. De las' stick's
on yo' woodpile now."
" Well, Abram," I said gravely, " if we have de
stroyed our fortifications burned our bridges
the time has come to change our base. We will
move into town."
Of course, without food or fuel, and without
Abram, we could not live in the country. The
fields were a desolate waste, with no fences to pro
tect a possible crop or to keep cattle within bounds.
Abram saw no hope from cultivation nothing to
" work on." He had been a refugee from a lower
plantation, and he was now inclined to put out his
children to service, and return in his old age to his old
290 My Day
home and to his old master, who longed to welcome
him. He was a grand old man. I doubt not he
has a warm place in the bosom of that other Abram
the faithful, but no whit more faithful than he.
The afternoon before our departure from Cottage
Farm, the weather was so deliciously balmy that I
walked over the garden and grounds, thinking of
the great drama that had been enacted on this spot.
The spring comes early in the lower counties of Vir
ginia. Already the grass was springing, and on the
trees around the well which had so often refreshed
General Lee, tender young leaves were trembling.
Spring had come to touch all scars with her gentle
finger-tips. Over all the battle-torn ground, over
the grave of the young soldier who had lain so long
under my window, over the track ploughed by shot
and shell, she had spread a delicate bloom like a
smile on the lips of the dead.
Much of my last night at Cottage Farm was spent
at the window from which I had watched on that
anxious night of my first home-coming. The home
had been polluted, sacked, desecrated and yet I
was leaving it with regret. Many a hard battle with
illness, with want, with despair, had been fought
within those walls. It seemed like a long, dark
night in which neither sun nor moon nor stars had
appeared ; during which we had simply endured,
watching ourselves the while, jealous lest the natural
rebound of youthful hope and spirit should surprise
us, and dishonor those who had suffered and bled
and died for our sakes.
CHAPTER XXVIII
IN March my husband wrote a letter of warm
congratulation upon my success in gathering all
our children together, and sent me a sum to be
used in sending them to school. That I might aid
my husband to mend our fortunes, I persuaded
seven of my neighbors' children to take music
lessons from me. The boys were entered to Mr.
Gordon McCabe the accomplished gentleman and
scholar so well known and so popular in England
as well as at home. My daughter Gordon entered
an excellent school of which Professor Davis was
principal. The older children had been taught by
the Rev. William Hoge, who had been pastor of
the Brick Church on Fifth Avenue, New York.
They were well instructed in Greek, Latin, and
mathematics, and eagerly embraced their new oppor
tunities. Before we left Virginia Gordon graduated
in her school, and the boys took honors of their
accomplished preceptor, Theo winning the first
prize the Pegram prize, ordained to commem
orate Mr. McCabe's colonel, "who died with all
his wounds in front." The children's father longed
all the more were that possible for his home.
He writes March 15:
" Beg Gordon to apply herself diligently to my books
or what is left of them. She must read Wilson's 'Essay on
Burns,' Macaulay's essays Jeffrey, Wilson, and Sydney
291
292 My Day
Smith. She must study Russell's ' Modern Europe/ and
must read Pope, Cowper, and other poets. I wish her to be the
most brilliant girl of the day. These accomplishments may
stand her in better stead than others of mere display'.
McCabe will push the boys.
" I know I have written you despondent letters, but I do
not despair ! I am only depressed by my physical weak
ness and by my very great difficulties, but here I mean to stay !
It is my last cast in the game of life, and if I fail now, all
is lost. I am writing again for the News. I need the
money to support us. The Law is so slow so uncertain
that I almost despair. If I had a little farm in the country
and barely enough for existence, I would be content, provided
I could have my family and the enjoyment of their society.
You can have no idea how miserable is my life here. It
is enough to make me crazy. I can hardly endure it. I
do trust your Christian fortitude enables you to bear our
misfortunes better than I can. You have the children!
Roger has written me a sweet letter, for which I thank him.
I trust they all care a little for me ! Poor papa, so lonely
and sad without his home ! Kiss them all for me. I love
them more than all the world. "
The hour before the dawn is always, we are told,
a dark hour. This was a dark hour indeed, but the
dawn was near. Alas, there were yet many nights
of darkness, many mornings of fitful dawning, before
the sun rose clearly on better days ! My husband's
sensitive spirit responded as quickly to the humor
of a situation as to pathos and tragedy. Very soon
after the mournful letter I received the following :
" c The Rebel Pryor ' has had 'a rap ' at last a rap
with no uncertain significance. I have had a call from a
bona fide client !
My Day 293
" Quite unexpectedly this morning a stalwart and evidently
brusque person entered, and accosting me asked, ' Is your
name Pryor ? ' I had to acknowledge the damaging fact !
4 Well/ he said, ' my name is " France." Ben Wood has
sent me to you to argue a case I have in Court. Now I
have as many lawsuits as any man in the United States,
and experience has taught me never to retain a lawyer
until we have agreed upon all I am to pay for his services.'
" To this I assented, but added that as I did not know
what his case might be, I could not indicate any terms of
employment.
" He replied, ' I live in Baltimore. I am at the head of all
the Lottery business in the United States. My business has
failed, and I'm trying to get discharge under your Two Thirds
Act.' Now I had never heard of the Two Thirds Act, and
had no notion what he meant, but this fact, you may be
sure, I did not communicate to my intending client. At
this point I made a bad break. I said, ' Mr. France, you
know I have been practising in New York a very short
time, and of course I am quite ignorant of the rate of charges
here.' Instantly it occurred to me that he would draw an
inference not only of my ignorance of fees, but of the law
itself. Fortunately the reflection seemed to escape him.
My object was, of course, to avoid designating the amount
of-the fee myself. I wanted to ask him fifty dollars, but
I had a dreadful fear that the proposition would drive him
out of the office, and I would not get even twenty-five,
which I would gladly have accepted. I begged him to
name the fee, with the assurance of whatever it might be
I would accept it.
" He answered, c I never prize' (this he pronounced price)
c any man's labor.' Still I persisted in the endeavor to
throw the burden of the offer upon him. He became
angered, and fumed a bit, but finally said :
" l Little Owen ' (a very able English solicitor who has set-
294 My Day
tied in New York in the practice of Bankruptcy and Insol
vency proceedings) 'Little Owen has served all the cita
tions and prepared all the other necessary papers, and all you
will have to do will be to argue the question of my discharge
on the return day of the motion, three weeks hence. Now
I will make with you the same agreement that I have
made with Mr. Owen which is five hundred dollars
cash, and one thousand if you procure my application.'
" With the utmost dignity and appearance of reluctance
I said, c Mr. France, you have my word that I would accept
any offer you might make, and of course I will agree to
this sum, however inadequate the compensation may be/
Going down into his pockets he drew out five hundred dol
lars in notes, which he gave me, and which I am sending you
through Bob Mcllwane. Let me know when you receive it.
I mean to win the thousand ! Expect no more long letters !
Between this hour and the day of argument I shall think
of, dream of, no subject on earth but the Two Thirds Act ! "
He argued the motion and won it. The court
and lawyers treated him kindly, and the judge said,
" It is a great privilege to hear a good argument
from an able lawyer ! " He was soon employed in
other cases. His letters now exhibited the most
hopeful temper. " I am overwhelmed," he wrote
me, " with business for the Southern Express Com
pany. It keeps me employed night and day, but so
far has yielded me no money. I hope, however,
eventually to get a fee that shall compensate me for
all my labor, so I am encouraged to work on. I
am sure of success ! I feel it in me. Let us crowd
all sail, and not languish in despair. Did you ever
know any one who lived honestly, worked hard,
and exerted competent talent to fail in any enterprise
My Day 295
of life ? I think we have competent ability ; as for
the rest I am certain ; my health is perfect. The
debility which so oppressed me is succeeded by per
fect health and vigor."
And all because of the one-thousand-dollar fee
(half of which he already owed) from Mr. France,
the lottery dealer ! Wherever he is, and I trust
he lives to read these words, I have for him, now
and always, my grateful blessing.
As for the Express Company, the brilliant
hopes from that quarter melted as does the baseless
fabric of a dream. The company became hopelessly
insolvent, and for the promised fee of three thou
sand dollars paid its hard-worked counsel nothing.
The winter of 18661867 was marked with fluc
tuating hopes and disappointments. The great labor
in the interests of the Express Company had yielded
nothing.
"The Express Company is insolvent beyond redemption
[my husband wrote me] . This involves a loss to me
of $3000 and again delays indefinitely the reunion with
my family here. I am not dismayed, however, au contraire !
My present impulse is to retrieve the loss by extraordinary
exertions. Work, work, work, is my duty and destiny ;
your welfare the goal that beckons me on. I contemplate
nothing else I desire nothing else. I have been unan
imously elected a member of the Manhattan Club, an
association for the purpose of social enjoyment, but of
course the expense is a formidable bar to me. I sometimes
attend as Mr. Schell's guest, and I am received with great
kindness.
u I have met Miss Augusta Evans, the authoress, and I
am impressed with the goodness of her heart and her devo-
296 My Day
tion to learning. Her appearance is extremely pleasing
brown hair, the color of yours fair complexion blue
eyes (I think), a fine brow and well-developed head, a fig
ure slight and graceful, and of your height. The expres
sion of her countenance is serious, almost sad, though it
lights up with the animation of talk. She is good, modest,
sincere, pious. Her devotion to the ' lost cause ' is fa
natical. I think her mind is irregularly developed, but she
has infinite ambition and will improve.
" I have also had the great pleasure of seeing Ristori
and of being presented to her behind the scenes. Her
acting is a revelation. I could not understand one word
of her language, but her voice, her exquisite articulation,
her expressive countenance and gestures, told the story elo
quently to my uninstructed eyes and ears. How I longed
for you ! All pleasure must be, in your absence, poi
soned for me.
u I have agreed to accept the defence of an unhappy
Episcopal minister who was arrested in an omnibus for
picking a lady's pocket ! He was about to leave the stage
when a voice arrested him : ' Stop that man ! He has stolen
my pocket-book.' The pocket-book was found upon him.
It is by no means impossible that the thief may have
dropped it in my client's pocket. So although he is mis
erably poor and can pay me nothing for my trouble, my
sympathies are enlisted, and I shall do my best for him.
Think of it ! An Episcopal minister ! "
Later :
" My wretched client is bailed at last. I am more and
more persuaded of his innocence, but whether I can make it
appear in the trial is another thing. The evidence is
almost conclusive against him. The case is so bad I can
hardly expect the judge to discharge him. I can acquit
him, however, before a jury."
My Day 297
Two months later he wrote :
u I have refused to be further connected in the case of
the Episcopal minister, for reasons which it is not proper
I should disclose even to you. He is now committed to
the protecting care of a lawyer whose defence will be in
sanity !
"Some of the papers made haste to announce that 'the
Rebel Pryor has been superseded in the criminal case of
by other lawyers/ and it was suspected the publica
tion had emanated from the prisoner's friends to escape an
imaginary prejudice against a ' Rebel ' advocate. The
truth is, I learned facts from my client which made me
withdraw from the case facts in writing. I indignantly
refused any further connection with . His friends
wrote me imploring me to stand by him, and it is suspected
that when they found me obstinate, they instigated the
newspaper assertion ! If so, they have behaved with the
basest ingratitude, for but for me services which nobody
but myself could have rendered he would long ago have
been in State's Prison. I voluntarily, and against their re
monstrance, renounced his case and for other reasons
than an absence of reward. What my reasons are neither
you nor any other person shall ever know. They are in
writing, however, and in my possession. Of course they
know I will be silent unless I am forced to act otherwise."
The name of this unhappy clergyman is withheld
lest the innocent may suffer. He was accused of
being an accomplished thief, and of concealing in
his left hand a small pair of scissors, which he
manipulated with such skill that he cut into the
pockets (then worn in the ample skirts of women's
dresses) and cleverly extracted purses and wallets.
His case was postponed from month to month
298 My Day
and finally he was allowed to leave the city for his
home at the South, where he soon after died the
presumption being, I imagine, that he was insane.
The close of the year 1866 brought no new hopes
for the sorely distressed little family in Petersburg.
By the closest economy, the most diligent work,
teaching by day, and sewing at night, the wolf was
kept from the door, and the school bills of the boys
paid. Small sums came occasionally from the heart
sick worker in New York, heart-sick because of
his own impaired strength and health and the loss
of many days from pain and illness, and also his keen
anxieties about the future of his native state.
But at Christmas we were all refreshed by a visit
from him, and improved the hour by entreating that
he should abandon the plan of living in New York.
We were most averse to it. There was small hope
of our ever being able to exist in that city of costly
living and high house-rents. My husband forbore
to grieve me, at this sacred time, by opposing me.
After he returned to New York, he wrote me :
"NEW YORK, Jan. 23d, 1867.
" MY DEAREST,
" I am sending you $200, with one hundred and ninety-
seven of which you must take up a note due Ashwell, the
Northern sutler. This is what remains of money due him
to redeem the silver tray from which you parted to pur
chase shoes for the prisoners. Get a receipt in full from
him, get the tray, and restore it to its place in the service.
To raise this amount I am sorely pressed. We have had
a terribly dull season. I am comforted by the good reports
of the children. Tell them that I rejoice to hear of the
My Day 299
good progress in their studies, and am particularly delighted
with Theo's c perfect ' circular. My heart's desire is that
the children be perfect in all things. Pray write often
about them. Gordon writes charmingly, but her letters
cannot be substituted for yours. Indeed I love you all
more and more every day of my life, and I would sacrifice
everything to be with you. Next spring you must join me.
Do let us make the experiment. By hard work and strict
economy we may contrive to tide over our difficulties.
We must remember that we are poor, and must act accord
ingly. We must be content to live humbly. Anything is
more tolerable than the life we now Jive. Business of
every kind is extremely dull here, but I get some practice.
I argued on a l Demurrer ' the other day and was greatly
complimented the Chief Justice again remarking; 'it is
refreshing to hear a good argument by a good lawyer.'
" Devotedly, R. A. P."
"March 5th, 1867.
u MY DEAREST, To-morrow I will send you a certi
fied cheque for $50. Would it were more ! For a month
I have been extremely pressed for money, but I still hope
for easier times. My income is very precarious. Don't
imagine I have the least idea of abandoning my experiment
here. ' I mean to fight it out on this line ' to the end of
the struggle. My practice increases slowly but surely,
and is based, I believe, on a conviction of my competency.
Thank God what I have accomplished, though small, has
been achieved by my own unaided exertions, and without
the least obligation to a human being. I have no patron.
I have never solicited business. My only arts are, work
and devotion to study. These expedients may be slow of
operation, but they are sure, and they leave my dignity
and self-respect uncompromised. I am not conscious of
having received a favor since my residence in New York
300 My Day
and when the victory is achieved, I shall feel inexpres
sible gratification in saying, with Coriolanus, ' Alone I did
it ! ' When I speak of ' favor ' I mean in the way of
my profession. Of personal kindness I have been the
grateful recipient though not in many instances. Judge
was perpetually obtruding his promises upon me
until at last I told him I needed no help and would accept
no succor. Of course he is offended. Let him be ! All
his professions of regard are developed to be an interested
scheme to press me into his service.
" And now one more word. You must come to me.
I cannot live without you. Is not poverty better than
such an existence ? May we not live here humbly, but
content in one another's presence ? I do not see that it is
possible for me to get employment in Virginia. Let us
abate something of our pride and ambition, and be content
to live poorly and obscurely. We can at least be sus
tained by our mutual love and admiration. What care
we for the world ?
"Devotedly, R. A. P."
A very dull season succeeded these brave words.
My poor general suffered greatly from neuralgic
pains in his head ; no new cases came into his office.
He writes :
" I cannot account for it ! Everything looks so much
less promising but really now I must remain here. I
have no money to get away ! Never before have I been
so sick at heart. I often fear I can bear no more. I
would come to you supremely wretched as I am but
for the fact that I am without money to pay my expenses.
In truth I haven't a cent in the world ! Yesterday I had
one dollar, but meeting a poor little boy about Willy's
size with an arm just broken, I gave him the last of my
My Day 301
fortune. Why my landlord trusts me, I know not. But
he seems to have faith in me, and is willing to wait until I
earn something."
This letter was soon followed by another, in
deed he wrote me every day, and he hastened to
say :
" I felt ashamed of my last letter, but the truth is my
'business' is oppressively stagnant from what particular
cause, I cannot conjecture. Whether it be the result of
accident, or of causes which portend an ultimate failure, I
cannot pretend to affirm. If a breeze does not come soon,
I shall be at a standstill. What then ? My family is
dependent exclusively upon my scant earnings. If they
fail, I see no hope in another quarter. This is the appre
hension that kills the soul within me. The catastrophe
haunts me like a spectre, and clouds my spirit with a per
petual gloom. God only knows what the event will be
but I should not talk in this strain. I shall relax no effort.
On the contrary, I never worked as strenuously in my life.
God willing, my earnest efforts to subsist my darling family
may yet be successful. It is for them I toil, and richly do
they deserve every blessing. This thought, above all else,
encourages me. May God bless them !
" Devotedly, R. A. P.
" P.S. I see I repeated the sin for which I sought ex
cuses. The present lull in my practice I attribute to the
general stagnation of business. Mayhap the breeze will
come before long.
u An unwelcome breeze of another kind is now busy
near me. An immense fire is raging in rather close prox
imity to the 'Waverly,' and I have some apprehensions
of a move. The Winter Garden Theatre and the South
ern Hotel are in flames. How the boys would enjoy the
302 My Day
spectacle ! I suppose there are fifty steam-engines spout
ing their streams and thousands of people looking on. To
day, for the first time, we have an indication of approach
ing spring, and as they are painting my office, I mean to
stroll about the city in enjoyment of the sunshine."
He had now lived in New York a year and a half
and had borne the intense heat of summer in the
crowded district. Except for one visit to Virginia,
and an occasional Sunday to Fordham to visit his
old comrade in Congress, Mr. Haskins, he had not
left his narrow quarters for any recreation whatever.
I
CHAPTER XXIX
N April my husband exultantly announced
that he had " eight little cases " on the
calendar ; on May 14 he wrote :
" I am over head and ears with work, preparing Mrs.
's case for trial. It is infinitely troublesome ; but if I
win, my fee will be $2000 otherwise nothing."
He did win ! In July he received his fee !
Within two weeks I had wound up all my small
affairs in Petersburg, kissed " good-by " to my
tearful little band of music scholars, sent my Aunt
Mary with my Gordon and little Mary to "The
Oaks " in Charlotte County to spend the rest of the
summer, persuaded my sable laundress, Hannah,
that New York was an earthly paradise, and taken
passage thither with her and five of my little brood.
A hot morning in July found us at City Point
before sunrise, waiting for the Saratoga, one of a bi
weekly line of two steam-boats, now coming from
Richmond on its way to New York. The Saratoga
and her consort, the Niagara, had the right of way
at that time with no competitors, and could take
their own time without let or hindrance. They
travelled the path now traversed by the many fine
ships of the Old Dominion Line, and travelled it
alone except for an occasional Clyde boat or two.
As we waited, our noisy little engine puffed away
303
34 My Day
impatiently. The conductor hoped for a possible
passenger for his return trip to Petersburg, and had
arrived at the terminus of his short road too soon.
City Point lately a place of strategic importance,
where the great ships of the Federal army had
anchored, where Mr. Lincoln had been entertained
by General Grant, where General Butler had long
made his headquarters was now silent and deserted.
Two years before the last of General Butler's gun
boats had steamed away. Not a shade tree, not a
"shanty," remained to mark the occupation of
the Federal troops. An unsheltered platform
afforded the only place for a traveller to rest while
waiting for the boat, unless he could content him
self with the dust-covered seats in the forlorn little
car and the limited view from the narrow, dirty car
window. Out on the platform, seated on his own
boxes, the traveller could see the sweep of the noble
James River, broadened here into a sea as it took
into its bosom the muddy waters of the Appomattox.
Landward there was little to be seen except an
unbroken waste of dusty road and untilled field.
At a little distance a thin line of smoke indicated
a small log cabin and the presence of inhabitants.
Outside the hut there was a " patch " of corn and
cabbages, and a watermelon vine sprawled about,
searching for the sweet waters wherewithal to fill
the plump green melons it had brought forth. A
suspicious hen was leading her brood as far from the
engine as possible, and a pig in an odoriferous pen
was leaping on the sides of his stye and clamoring
for his breakfast. Presently a languid negro woman
My Day 305
emerged from the cabin, and stooping over the cab
bages, selected a large leaf, which she proceeded to
bind with a strip of cloth around her forehead. She
sauntered toward us and remarked that it was
" gwine to be a mighty hot day." She had risen
early, she said, to see the boat pass. Her son Jim
was kitchen boy on the Saratoga^ and not allowed
to leave the boat, but she could see him and " tell
'im howdy." She " cert'nly thought Sis Hannah
lucky to git to go Nawth " (Hannah was rather
rueful and teary, having just parted from a Jim of
her own). " She would cert'nly go Nawth " herself
if she wasn't " 'bleeged to stay at the Pint on account
of the pig an' chickens an' things." She was like
the two old maids in Dickens's funny story, who
lived in the greatest discomfort in a crowded quarter
on the Thames, but could not even consider the
possibility of moving which they could well
afford to do because of the trouble of moving
" the library," a small collection of books which any
able-bodied market-woman could easily have carried
in her basket.
My own movables were really of less importance
than those of my new acquaintance. Hers represented
the entire furnishing of a home a home sufficient
for her needs. Mine were the melancholy wreckage
of a home which had been enriched with such
treasures as are collected in a prosperous and happy
life : only what had been saved by a good neighbor
and a faithful servant from the sacking of our house
at Cottage Farm a few damaged books, a box of
sacred silver, and one trunk, which sufficed for my
306 My Day
own garments and for the slender wardrobes of my
children. I was on my way to keep house in New
York with a service of silver and a few rain-and-
mud-stained books which had been picked up on the
farm by our good John.
My heart was heavier than my boxes, as I waited
for the boat. All the sad foreboding letters my gen
eral had written me rose up to fill me with doubt
and alarm. He had rented a furnished house and
had paid the first quarter of the $1800 it was to cost
us. That sum seemed to me simply enormous, but
he had spent weeks in hunting throughout the length
and breadth of New York for the humble little
home of his imagination. This house was far out
on an avenue in Brooklyn. I was afraid of it !
I was apprehensive that a very large hole indeed
had been made in the #2000. Moreover, my heart
was sick in leaving Virginia dear old Virginia, for
which I cherished the inordinate affection so sternly
forbidden by the Apostle. Six years of sorrow and
disaster had borne fruit. "Truly," I thought:
"All backward as I cast my e'e
Seems dark and drear :
And forward though I canna* see
I doubt and fear."
And then I had just parted with my dear aunt and
my scarcely dearer daughters, with old friends and
neighbors, with affectionate servants. And I was
tired tired unto death !
But the boat, churning with its great paddle-wheels
the muddy waters of the James, was approaching,
the captain and an early riser or two leaning
My Day 307
over the deck railing. My little boys ran gayly over
the gang-plank as soon as it was lowered. Hannah
clung tearfully to her acquaintance of an hour. The
gang-plank was hauled in, the great paddle-wheels
turned, and we were off, on our way to our new
home.
" Good-by, Dixie," called out my boys.
" Not yet, young gentlemen/' said the captain ;
" we are still in Dixie waters, and will be until we
reach the sea."
As we sat on deck, steaming down the river, the
passengers eagerly scanned the shores and recounted
the events of the late war. The last time I had
sailed down this river each point was interesting
from Colonial and Revolutionary associations. Now
all these were forgotten in its later history. Every
spot was marked as the scene of some triumph or
occupation of the Northern army of some disaster
or humiliation of the South.
There were few passengers three charming
young ladies with their mother, returning home
after a visit to the Cullen family of Richmond ; a
group of teachers going home to New England for
their vacation ; a comfortable negro mammy with
her basket, very proud to repeat again and again that
she was "just from Mobile, Alabama," to whom
Hannah looked up with deference and respect ; and
half a dozen or more tourists from New York re
turning from an inspection of the historic places in
and around Richmond. Among these last was an
old acquaintance, a Southern man, who at once
sought conversation with me. He had lived in
308 My Day
New York before and during the war. He could not
conceal his amazement at the desperate venture my
general was making. " Of all places," he said,
" why, why are you choosing a home in New
York?"
"Ask the withered leaf," I answered, "why it is
driven by a winter wind to one place rather than
another."
" But practically," he replied somewhat testily,
"as a matter of prudence and common sense "
" You think, then," I interrupted, " there is small
hope for my poor general in New York."
" New York " he said slowly and with emphasis,
" New York, you will find, has no use for the unsuc
cessful man"
This was an anxious thought for me to take to my
state-room. Once there, and my restless young
ones asleep, I realized the desperate venture we
were making. Nothing had ever been as I wished.
With the war, its causes, its ends and objects, I had
nothing to do. My part was solely with the pov
erty, the heartbreak, the losses, the exile from home.
An unbidden vision, many a time thrust from
me, now arose, insistent. My early home all
flowers and music and beauty, my opulent life ; the
devotion of honored friends this was my heritage !
Of this I had been unjustly defrauded. Ah, well !
It was an old story the story of another paradise,
another yielding to sinful ambition, another sword,
another parting with happiness and home to en
counter difficulty, poverty, danger ! Then, " The
world was all before them where to choose a place
My Day 309
of rest and Providence their guide." Aye ! Provi
dence their Guide! This, this was the anchor of
their hope, and must be mine.
We were awakened before dawn by a confusion
on deck the dragging of heavy ropes, hurried
feet, loud shouts. Throwing on my wrapper, I
ascended, to find my little boys already on deck,
eager for adventure. It appeared we had met our
consort, the Niagara, in a crippled condition, had
thrown her a cable, and were now "put about" to
lead her into port at Norfolk. The rising sun
found us slowly returning with the Niagara in tow ;
but a few miles from Norfolk she signified her
ability to go on without us, and we resumed our on
ward journey to New York.
Late in the evening all eyes were turned toward land
and presently the sky-line of New York emerged
from the mists. Very different was it from the sky
line of to-day. Then we saw only the uneven line
of moderate dwellings of unequal height, broken
here and there by the upward-pointing fingers of the
churches. There was no " Brooklyn Bridge " span
ning the East River, no Babel-like towers of the
modern sky-scraper, no great statue like a bronze
figure on a newel-post of Liberty with her torch and
coronal of stars. (I never did admire Miss Liberty.
I always sympathized with the afflicted sculptor who
exclaimed, as his vision was smitten by the giantess,
" If this be Liberty, give me Death.")
We were, after much delay, " warped " into our
own berth, and the " dear old muggy atmosphere "
of New York stormed my unwilling senses : atmos-
310 My Day
phere thickened and flavored, after a sweltering sum
mer day, with coal smoke, street-filth, and refuse of
decaying fruit and many cabbages.
But all things were forgotten when we descried
the slight figure of my general on the pier ! Very
thin and wan did he look, sadly in need of us. He
took us, a party of eight, to a neighboring restaurant
for dinner; and then we crossed the ferry and in the
horse-cars, through miles and miles of lighted streets,
we reached our little home, far away on the outer
edge of Brooklyn.
The morning after our arrival we rose early to
look about us. We were in an unsubstantial new
house, narrow as a ladder and filled with unattractive
furniture. Hannah agreed to take care of the chil
dren, and I set forth to find a market. After walk
ing several blocks in different directions I concluded
there was no market within reach, and I began to
doubt my ability to provide a dinner. A fat, stolid-
looking policeman strolled near me as I ventured :
" Can you tell me, Mr. Officer, where I can find
an honest butcher ? "
" I'll be hanged if I know one," he replied.
I considered. We had brought biscuit and
crackers. I must find some milk.
" Can you tell me, then, where I can get pure
milk ? "
My policeman whistled ! I don't know what
there was in my appearance that tempted him to
" guy " me, but with a droll twinkle in his eye he
said :
" Now look 'ere, lady ! If you was to go on a
My Day 311
little further, you'd get to Flatbush ; and then you'd
see the mizzable critters standing up to their knees in
stagnant water, with their hoofs rotting off. Sure and
you wouldn't want any of their milk ! "
The neighborhood was sparsely settled ; a num
ber of vacant lots surrounded our house, which
was one of a row all alike. I reflected that the
people living in those houses must occasionally eat !
And so I walked on and on until I reached a cross
street on which cars were running. There I found
a stand of cakes and apples, before which a woman
sat knitting. " My good woman," I said amiably,
"are your cakes plain?"
She dropped her work and glared at me. " Clane^
is it ! You think I put dirt in 'em ? " Her manner
was so threatening that I turned and fled. Her voice
pursued me " An'the blarney of her ; " (mimicking),
" c Me good ooman ' ! c Me good ooman,' indade !
the loikes of her ! "
What my mistake had been I could not then imag
ine. I now know that I had, unconsciously, a manner
unwarranted by my appearance. Turning up a new
thoroughfare, I encountered a grocery store, with
vegetables and fruit at the door. There I learned
with terror the cost of provisions in this part of the
world. At home I could buy a chicken for 25 cents
- here I must give 30 cents for a pound of him !
Whortleberries (the grocer called them "blue
berries") could be bought at home for a few pennies
a quart. Here 20 cents was demanded for a shallow
box of withered specimens. Fifty cents in Peters
burg would buy a large beefsteak. I purchased an
312 My Day
infant steak for $1.50, and with this I turned my
steps homeward.
A small shanty, a squatter's hut, was in the corner
of the vacant lot behind our house. Two or three
children were playing in the dirt at the door, and a
goat eating paper beside them. Ah ! there was a
cow tethered to a tree not far away !
A kindly-faced Irish woman answered my knock.
I frankly told her my dilemma and she sympathized
at once. Her name was Mrs. Foley, and she would
milk her cow in my sight morning and evening, just
behind my house, so I could be sure of the purity of
the milk. " An* sure in a wake ye'll see the darlint
fatten," she assured me. And a great comfort was
old Mrs. Foley all the time I lived near her.
I must confess the days passed wearily enough
through July and into August. The heat was ex
treme and of a depressing quality. We were so far
away from my general's office that his long journey
morning and evening, accompanied by Theo, was
exhausting to both of them. I taught Mary and
Roger, but the children were very listless and un
happy. They found no pleasure in walking up and
down the uninteresting sidewalk of a hot, dreary
street. Loneliness, enhanced by the far-off hum of
the city, the mournful fog-horns and whistles on the
river, and the not less depressing sounds from the
incessant pianos around us, oppressed us all. We
seemed to find nothing to take hold of, nothing to
live for.
I one day found Hannah raining tears into her
tubs as she washed our linen, and having no mind
My Day 313
to have my handkerchiefs anointed with other tears
than my own, I essayed to comfort her. Finally she
confessed she had never seen New York. She didn't
know if it was " thar" for she'd " never seen sight
of it." Moreover, Jim was writing to ask her what
she thought of Central Park and she " cert'nly was
'shamed to tell Jim she had heerd tell of it but never
set foot in it."
I had an inspiration. "Hannah," I said, "we
have a steak for dinner. You can broil a steak and
boil some potatoes and rice in a few minutes. Come,
leave the tubs, run up and dress, and help me with
the children. We will all go to Central Park, spend
a pleasant afternoon, and get back in time for dinner."
We were a large party, and could not get off,
having taken a hasty luncheon, until nearly two
o'clock. But the summer afternoons were long and
we had no misgivings. I had no idea of the distance,
nor did I know of any route to the Park, save the
horse-car and ferry on our side, a walk up Wall
Street to Broadway, and the lumbering Broadway
omnibus with two horses for the rest of the way.
At four o'clock we arrived in sight of Central Park !
A black thunder-cloud came up, and we alighted
from our stage in a drenching rain. Of course we
must return without seeing the Park, but to our joy
we found a line of horse-cars waiting at the gate for
return passengers, and dripping wet, we took shelter
in one of these and were soon on our way home
ward. At the end of our journey there was Theo,
with umbrellas now useless, for more thoroughly
drenched we could not well have been, and his
3 14 My Day
father! Well, his father was almost in a state of
nervous prostration ! Hannah's spirits thereafter
were worse than ever. She lost all interest in work,
and spent much of her time leaning over her area
gate and gazing into the street. Once I asked her
what she was looking at.
" Dat po-white-folks creeter hollerin' c soap fat/ '
she answered. " Lawd ! I wonder if dat ole creeter
got wife ! "
We were both mystified by the street cries. One
man we found was not crying : " Frank Potter/'
" Frank Potter," but " rags, bottles." But another
cry, " Pi-apy Pi-ap" much perplexed us. Finally
Hannah brought in a very hard, knotty, green apple,
the " pi-ap " man had given her as a sample of his
wares. " Dar is his c pi-aps/ " she explained. Light
broke upon my benighted intelligence. " Why,
Hannah," I said, "he means pie-apples! " "Good
Gawd A'mighty ! " she exclaimed. " Is dat de bes'
dey can do ! "
In August she entreated to be sent home. In vain
I too entreated. I felt that this was the last straw !
What could I do in this strange city with no faithful
person to leave occasionally with the children ? I
offered anything everything larger liberty, more
wages.
Hannah said solemnly, " You knows I likes you
and de chillern but I can't stay. I'se feared to
stay ! I can't live in no place where folks plays
de piano all day Sunday. Fse boun' to git out.
Somp'n gwine to happen in dis Gawd-forsaken
place." Then after a thoughtful pause she added
My Day 315
pensively: " De watermillions is ripe at home! I
done wrote to Jim to git me one a big one and
put it in a tub o' cole water erginst I come/*
With Hannah I lost the last link that bound me
to the old Virginia of my childhood, my last ac
quaintance with the kindly old-time negro and the
dialect so expressive, so characteristic.
I filled her place with an Irish woman who served
me faithfully for many years, and was wont to com
miserate me for all I had suffered "with that nayger
in the house." Her scorn of the negro knew no
bounds. She never knew how deeply I mourned
my loss.
The pain of parting from friends, the doubt of the
future, the dreams of my early home, filled my heart
with anguish ; but I had but one consuming desire
to sustain and strengthen the dear one who had
fought so many battles, and was now confronted
with the stern struggle for existence. To be cheer
ful for his sake, to press strong hands over my own
breaking heart this was the task I set for myself.
CHAPTER XXX
NOVEMBER found us at the end of a long,
dull season. No business had come into
the little law-office the centre of all our
hopes. We had made no friends among our neigh
bors, to whom, of course, we had made no advances.
The silence was broken, however, one evening by a
visit from a well-groomed, handsome young fellow,
who, with many apologies, requested an interview
with General Pryor.
" So the reporters have found us out," said my
general, but he was mistaken. His visitor had " ven
tured to call for advice not legal advice exactly "
but he wished to know the General's opinion upon a
matter of infinite importance to himself and to his wife.
" Doubtless we had heard his wife singing," we
had " she was a fine musician, but one could not
live on music."
To this my husband readily assented. He had
a deeply rooted aversion to the piano, which he be
lieved to have been an invention of the Evil One in
a moment of unusual malignity.
" The question I wish to ask, General," said the
young fellow, " is this, Would you advise me to go
into politics, law, or the coffee business ? "
"The coffee business, most decidedly," said my
husband ; " I have tried the other two and have a
poor opinion of both of them."
My Day 317
The interviewer left, perfectly satisfied to enter
the coffee business. Through the open window
we could hear the words of a song from the " fine
musician " presenting, as it were, a solution of the
problem :
"It is time for the mower to whet his scythe
For 'tis five o'clock in the morning."
We never learned to what extent politics and the
profession of the law had suffered, nor how much
the coffee business had gained. One thing was
certain : the suggestion of the fair singer, so freely
given to the breeze, was not needed by me ; for my
scythe was always in active operation before five
o'clock in the morning. When " the sun came
peeping in at morn/' he always found me up and
dressed and ready for his greeting.
Then as for many times before and after our
case seemed too desperate for rest. Often after
our slender breakfast not an atom of food was left
in the larder. A mouse would in vain have sought
our hospitality. The corner grocer had once trusted
us for provisions as far as twenty-five dollars' worth,
but had taken his seat in the front hall and there re
mained until he was paid ! The bitter experience
was never repeated. But as surely as the ravens
were sent to feed Elijah did the Power that esteems
us of more worth than many sparrows many
ravens send us something every day; some small
fee for a legal service or for an article written for the
News. My general would bring this treasure
home, Anne would be sent on a flying errand for
318 My Day
"a bit of a shteak" and Mr. Micawber never
gathered around his suddenly acquired chops a more
hopeful brood than our own.
Once Mr. John R. Thompson, editor of the Lit
erary Messenger and later of the New York Evening
Post, fresh from England, where he had hobnobbed
with Carlyle, Tennyson, and Dickens, came to
dinner. I had little to offer him except a biscuit
and a glass of ale. He did not mind. He had
known Edgar Allan Poe, and many another pov
erty-stricken genius who had enriched the pages of the
Literary Messenger for sums too pitiful to mention.
The straits of scholarly men were familiar to him
and detracted nothing from his interest in the men
themselves. To be sure they were more interest
ing if they walked the midnight streets in default of
other shelter than the stars (and there might be
worse) like Johnson or Savage or Goldsmith or
others of the Grub-street fraternity ; still, the
victims of a revolution were quite miserable enough
to satisfy the imagination. Misery is, after all,
more picturesque than happiness and ease.
John Mitchell, the Irish patriot, was another
visitor, railing against the English government
and declaring he would yet live to " strike the
crutches from the old hag, on the British throne " ;
talk to which no stretch of politeness could in
duce me to listen. I had been taught to love
the good, young queen, of whom the English
philanthropist, Joseph John Gurney, had told me
when I, a child of eight years, had sat upon his
knee in my uncle's house in Virginia.
My Day 319
An agreeable old German gentleman, whom we
had known in Washington, also came from New
York to see us. " Oh, Pryor, Pryor," he exclaimed,
how could you bring Madam to this mel-#0'-choly
place?"
The place would have been paradise to us if only
God would give us bread for our children. We
had come to fear we would never have more per
haps not this. The society exclusive! y of " Adul-
lamites " like ourselves- was not conducive to
hope and cheerfulness. Very few Southerners were
at that time in New York. We were pioneers.
Truly they were all like the followers of David
" in distress, in debt, and discontented."
Just at this anxious time I received a letter from
my dear Aunt Mary. She felt that she was incur
ably ill. While she had strength, she would come,
place Gordon safely in her father's house, and then
die in my arms ! In a few days she would arrive
in New York and I must meet her at the boat with
provision for having her borne to a carriage.
This was overwhelming news. How could I
provide comforts for my more than mother ? There
was but one thing left us. We must pledge our
service of silver a testimonial service with a
noble inscription, presented, we remember, to my
general by the Democratic party of Virginia after
he had fought a good fight against the peril threat
ened by the "Know Nothing" party. This silver
was very precious. Sell it we could not, but per
haps we could borrow a few hundred dollars, giving
it as security.
320 My Day
The idea of a pawn-broker never occurred to us.
It seems to me now that I had then never heard
of a pawn-broker !
But not a great many years before this, as we
remember, when I was fifteen years old, this dear
aunt who had reared me had suddenly discovered
that the child was a woman. She must see the
world. She must travel to Niagara Falls, visit all
the great cities and see their museums, libraries,
theatres, what not; she must have hats from Mme.
Viglini in New York, gowns from Mrs. McComas
in Baltimore, and jewels from Tiffany's. From
the latter my adoptive father had bought me lovely
turquoise, rubies, white topaz necklaces, and jewelled
combs. Surely, I now thought, this will be the
place where I may be remembered and find some
kindness. Accordingly I repaired thither and made
my plea. I was told, of course, that the firm must
see the silver. Naturally none of the gentlemen
who talked with me could remember ever having
heard of me before. I must send the silver and then
return for my answer. Accordingly I boxed it, sent
it, and on the third day presented myself a very
wistful figure at the silver counter. A tall young
man, whose name I learned afterwards, said to me
with some hauteur, " Madam, we have weighed your
silver, and will allow you #540 for it."
" I will redeem it soon, I hope," I answered.
" Redeem it ! Madam, this is not a pawnshop !
We buy silver."
u Then will I not get it back again ? "
" Certainly not ! "
My Day 321
I hesitated. My need was sore but oh, to
part forever with this sacred inheritance for my
children !
" You had as well realize," said my tall young man,
and he looked to me colossal, " that you
will never have occasion to use silver again. You
had as well let it go to the crucible first as last.
You will, of course, be obliged to live humbly
hereafter, and "
But I had risen in great wrath against him.
Flushed and indignant I retorted, "You mistake,
sir ! I shall use my silver again ! I shall not live
humbly always," and left the store.
But once again on the sidewalk with the sharp
November wind blowing in my face I remembered my
dear invalid. I remembered my cold house, in
which there had been provided no furnace, no stove,
nothing but open grates for heating. I knew then
as well as I know now that the firm was in no
wise responsible for the discourteous language of its
representative. I had only happened to encounter
a fanatic, a hater of the South, and it was not the
first time. Possibly should I return and seek an
other one of the corps of clerks I might fare better.
But no ! I would perish first.
Just at this moment I recollected that my dear old
chaplain-father had said, in bidding me good-by,
" If you ever need a friend, you may advise with
my friend in New York Henry Corning."
This sent me to a directory in a near-by drug
store, where I found "Corning" and an address to
a bank on Broadway. I repaired thither, and was
322 My Day
directed to a private room, where a venerable gentle
man rose to greet me and offer me a seat. I was
very tired and miserable, but I told my errand as
best I could.
" I have not the pleasure of knowing your father,"
said the gentleman, looking at me kindly through
his spectacles (and down went the mercury of all
my courage), " but," he added, " I think my nephew,
Henry Corning, is your man. I have heard htm
speak of the Rev. Dr. Pry or. I will give you his
address. My name is Jasper Corning."
I am sure there were tears in my eyes when he
looked up, as he handed me a slip of paper, for he
added kindly: " I feel certain Henry will not fail
you. Don't despair ! God is good."
Another omnibus ride brought my heavy heart
to the door of Mr. Henry Corning, in Madison
Avenue. He was sitting at his desk on the ground
floor and without one word of response to my
simply told story turned to his desk and wrote
his check for $500 !
"I will send you the silver immediately," I said
but he only bowed, and with " My regards to
your father," he allowed me to take leave.
I called at Tiffany's on my return, gave an order
at the desk, paid the cartage, and ordered the silver
to be addressed to Mr. Corning.
When the time came, a year afterwards, for me
to redeem it, I saw Mr. Corning again, thanked him
for his kindness, and said, " I am now ready to
redeem the silver." He looked at me with a twinkle
in his eye and asked, " What silver ? "
My Day 323
" Surely," I exclaimed in great alarm, " surely you
received it."
" Oh, well, " he replied, " if you say so, I sup
pose it is all right. I have never seen your silver.
There's a box there in the corner. The box has
not been opened since you sent it."
My dear aunt had her wish. She died in my
house. She was ill a long time. Through the kind
ness of a Southern friend I was introduced to Dr.
Rosman, who attended her with devotion and skill.
He was the gentlest and kindest of physicians. He
admired and appreciated her, and truly she was a
grande dame in every respect; courteous, dignified,
and beautiful, even at sixty years of age.
" When faith and Hope, which parting from her never
Had ripened her just soul to dwell with God,
Her alms and deeds and all her great endeavor
Were never lost, nor in the grave were trod.'*
She lives, I humbly trust, in two children of her
adoption, who owe to her all they are or ever hope
to be.
The struggle, the wounds, the defeats we suffer
at each other's hands may all be classed under the
head of battles, battles where the ultimate defeat
or victory is in our own hands, in the harm or
good done to our souls. The fight in the field
ended, hostility, hatred, bitterness, should also end ;
but, alas, the battles of prejudice, resentment for
unforgiven injuries, may continue for years. Some
of these my story compels me to record, but as old
Thomas Fuller quaintly says : " These battles are
324 My Day
here inserted, not with any intent (God knows my
heart) to perpetuate the odious remembrance of mu
tual wrongs, that heart-burnings may remain when
house-burnings have ceased, but only to raise our
gratitude to God that so much strife should have
raged in the bosom of so fair a land, and yet so few
scars remain."
CHAPTER XXXI
WHILE these sad days and nights of heavi
ness hung over us, we were painfully con
scious that some of our own people mis
understood my husband's position in New York.
Our having left Virginia was resented at the time,
and now General Pryor's avowed belief that the
salvation of the South could only be assured by
acquiescence in the inevitable, and in the full exer
cise of justice to the negro, was most unacceptable.
This was before the right of suffrage had been con
ceded to the negro ; in the interval between the fall
of the Confederacy and the Reconstruction period,
an interval during which the South was in a condi
tion of resentment and agitation which portended a
possible renewal of the conflict, one of General
Pryor's friends wrote him of the feeling against him
and the cause.
The following answer to this letter was sent by
my husband to the Richmond Whig^ and puts him
on record before the world at a time when such opin
ions were decidedly adverse to the feelings of many
of his own personal friends. It required courage
to write this letter. Since that time the prophetic
words have been fully justified by subsequent events,
and the unwelcome sentiments are to-day fully in
dorsed by the South. They are pregnant with wis-
325
326 My Day
dom, perhaps as much needed now as at the time
they were uttered.
"NEW YORK, October 5, 1867.
" MY DEAR SIR : I was apprised before the receipt of
your letter that a certain paper of Virginia had stigma
tized me as a c Radical ' and had otherwise imputed to me
sentiments inimical to the interests of the South. But the
silly story I disdained to contradict, while it rested on the
authority of the irresponsible person who propagated it.
Since you say that my silence is construed into a sort of
acquiescence in the reproach, I empower you to repel the
accusation with the utmost energy of indignant denial. I
have not the vanity to imagine that my opinions are of the
least consequence to any one ; but, because they have been
brought into controversy, and have been the occasion of
subjecting me to some unmerited animadversion, I will tell
you very frankly and freely in what relation I stand to the
politics of the day.
" In the first place, then, neither with politics nor parties
have I the least concern or connection. On the downfall
of the Confederacy I renounced forever every political as
piration, and resolved henceforth to address myself to the
care of my family and the pursuit of my profession. But
for all that I have not repudiated the obligations of good
citizenship. When I renewed my oath of allegiance to the
Union, I did so in good faith and without reservation ; and
as I understand that oath, it not only restrains me from acts
of positive hostility to the government, but pledges me to
do my utmost for its welfare and stability. Hence, while
I am more immediately concerned to see the South restored
to its former prosperity, I am anxious that the whole coun
try, and all classes, may be reunited on the basis of common
interest and fraternal regard. And this object, it appears
to me, can only be attained by conceding to all classes the
My Day 327
unrestricted rights guaranteed them by the laws and by oblit
erating as speedily and as entirely as possible the distinc
tions which have separated the North and the South into
hostile sections.
" With this conviction, while I pretend to no part in
politics, I have not hesitated, in private discourse, to advise
my friends in the South frankly to 'accept the situation';
to adjust their ideas to the altered state of affairs; to rec
ognize and respect the rights of the colored race; to cul
tivate relations of confidence and good-will toward the
people of the North ; to abstain from the profitless agita
tions of political debate ; and to employ their energies in
the far more exigent and useful work of material reparation
and development. Striving out of regard to the South to
inculcate that lesson of prudent conduct, I have urged such
arguments as these : That the negro is, in no sense,
responsible for the calamities we endure ; that towards us
he has ever conducted himself with kindness and subordi
nation; that he is entitled to our compassion, and to the
assistance of our superior intelligence in the effort to attain
a higher state of moral and intellectual development ; that
to assume he was placed on this theatre as a reproach to
humanity and a stumbling-block to the progress of civiliza
tion would be to impeach the wisdom and goodness of
Providence ; that, considering the comparative numbers of
the two races in the South, it would be the merest mad
ness to provoke a collision of caste ; in a word, that it is
absolutely essential to the peace, repose, and prosperity of
the South that the emancipated class should be undisturbed
in the enjoyment of their rights under the law, and should
be enlightened to understand the duties and interests of
social order and well-being. But it has appeared to me
that the chief obstacle to a complete and cordial reunion
between the North and the South is found in the suspicion
and resentment with which the people of these sections
328 My Day
regard each other. Hence, while on the one hand assuring
the Northern people of the good faith with which the South
resumes its obligations in the Union, I have thought it not
amiss, on the other, to protest to my Southern friends that
the mass of the Northern community are animated by far
more just and liberal sentiments toward us than we are apt
to suspect.
" And thus, leaving to others the ostensible part in the
work of reconstruction, and abstaining studiously from all
political connection and activity, I have hoped in some
measure, and in a quiet way, to repair the evil I contributed
to bring upon the South by availing myself of every ap
propriate private opportunity to suggest these counsels of
moderation and magnanimity. Passion, to which in truth
we had abundant provocation, precipitated us into seces
sion ; reason must conduct us back into the path of peace
and prosperity.
" Hard it may be to purge our hearts of the resentments
and prejudices engendered by civil war ; but until our
minds be enlightened by a philosophic comprehension of the
exigencies of our situation, we shall never recover the repose
after which the wearied spirit of the South so eagerly pants.
" At whatever risk of personal obloquy, and at whatever
sacrifice of personal interest, and you know it involves
both obloquy and sacrifice to talk as I do, I am resolved
to employ all the energy and intellect I may command in
the incessant endeavor to promote peace and good-will
among the people of the lately belligerent states. What
the country needs, what in a most especial manner the
South needs, is repose ; freedom from the throes of political
agitation, and leisure to recruit its exhausted energies.
The experience of the past six years should have impressed
on the mind of the American nation this most salutary
lesson, a lesson sooner or later learnt by every nation in
the development of its own history, that civil war is the
My Day 329
sum and consummation of all human woe. Protesting
solemnly the integrity of motive by which I was then
actuated, yet I never recall the names of the noble men
who fell in our conflict ; I never look abroad upon our
wasted fields and desolated homes ; I never contemplate
the all-embracing ruin in which we are involved, the sad
eclipse of our liberties and the sinister aspect of the future,
without inwardly resolving to dedicate all 1 possess of
ability for the public service to the task of averting another
such catastrophe, and to that end of cultivating a spirit of
forbearance and good feeling among all classes and all
sections of the country.
u These, my dear sir, are the opinions, very briefly and
dogmatically delivered, which I entertain touching the
actual condition of the Southern states, and the policy
proper for them to pursue in the present juncture. They
are the result of anxious and conscientious reflection, of
much observation of the popular temper of the North, and
of extreme and unabated solicitude for the welfare of the
community to which I am attached by the strongest ties of
filial devotion. With the utmost sincerity of conviction,
I believe that, by a system of conduct in conformity to
these suggestions, the Southern people may achieve a pros
perity and happiness equal to any they ever enjoyed ; while
on the contrary, I am as firmly persuaded that, by a vain
and impatient resistance to an order of things they cannot
change, and to a destiny they cannot escape, they will
infinitely aggravate the miseries of their present condition,
and besides, bring down upon themselves calamities appall
ing to contemplate.
" I am not acquainted with the classification of parties,
but if these opinions make me a 'Radical,' then I am a
' Radical ' ; for they are deliberately the opinions of
u Very truly yours,
" ROGER A. PRYOR."
CHAPTER XXXII
EARLY in the spring of 1868 we removed
to Brooklyn Heights near the Ferry, much
nearer my husband's office in Liberty Street.
New York had not then stretched an arm across
East River and taken into its bosom Brooklyn
already the third city in the Union. The two cities,
now one in name, were practically one in interest as
early as 1867. A great multitude of the dwellers
of Brooklyn crossed the ferry every morning on
their way to their daily work in New York. Brooklyn
was a huge, overgrown village ; a city of churches, a
city of homes, and of children innumerable. Every
year in May a mighty army thousands and thou
sands of these children paraded the streets under
banners from their respective Sunday-schools, a
unique spectacle well worth a pilgrimage thither,
provided one could content himself with a precari
ous footing on a crowded sidewalk ; for these
children had the " right of way " and knowing
their right, dared maintain it.
In 1867 the streets were so deserted was not
everybody in New York for the day ? that little
children adopted them as a perfectly safe play
ground. There were no elevated railroads, no trol
ley cars, no automobiles, no bicycles, no electric lights,
no telephones.
Our move was signalized by a complication of
33
My Day 331
difficulties. Four of my younger children found
this an altogether suitable time to indulge in measles.
Hasty visits to a near-by auction room resulted in a
few needful articles of furniture which were lent to
us for we could not purchase. The auctioneer
was to own them, and reclaim them if not paid for
in a certain time. A small room was shelved for
the books that had survived the sacking of our
house, and to our great satisfaction we found that
the much-used books books of reference had
proven too bulky or too shabby to be stolen.
These and other well-worn, well-read books became
the nucleus of a large library, and hold to-day in
their tattered bindings places of honor denied
newer lights of more creditable appearance. We
were not aware when we moved to Brooklyn
Heights that we had descended into the very centre
of the wealthiest society of the city. Had we
known this, it would have signified nothing to us.
Our extreme poverty forbade any expectation of
indulgence in social life, even had we felt we had the
smallest right to recognition. We had never known
anything about the social ambition of which in later
years we hear so much still less did we now
regard it. We " asked our fellow-man for leave to
toil," and asked nothing more.
We soon discovered that the people around us
lived in affluent ease and elegance but that was
not our affair ! We had no place in their world,
nor did we desire it. To conceal our true condition
was our instinctive impulse, and to that end we
shunned notice. Sometimes a great wave of deso-
33 2
lation and loneliness a longing inexpressible for
companionship would possess me. At this time
there was a bridge over Broadway below Cortlandt
Street. I sometimes, at seasons of great depression,
accompanied my husband to his office, and would
ascend the steps to this bridge and look up and
down the restless sea of passing crowds. Such a
sickening sense of loneliness would come over me, I
would feel that my heart was breaking. All seemed
so desolate, so hopeless, for us in this great unknown
world. We knew ourselves not only strangers but
aliens, outcasts.
Dear little Willy came to me one day and advised
me to change his terrier's name, " Rebel," a name
he had borne by reason of his own disposition, and
not at all in honor of the cc lost cause." " The boys
will stone him," said Willy; " I am going to call him
f Prince ' in the street and c Rebel ' at home." On
another day his younger sisters were decoyed into
the garden of a neighbor, and there informed by the
children of the house that we would not be allowed
to live in the street that we were "Rebels, and
slave-drivers, and awful people ! " These painful
incidents were of everyday occurrence. " Mamma
told me," said one of the little ones, " that God loves
us. Will everybody else hate us ? " Before very
long, however, the little rebels made friends and
were forgiven all their enormities.
The good people of Brooklyn at that time were
taking up their cobblestones and laying a wooden
pavement on Pierpont Street, and fascinating blocks
of wood were piled at intervals in the street. Of
My Day 333
course, the boys immediately built of them a village
of tiny houses, and one day a committee of bright-
eyed fellows Tom and Charley Nichols and Dr.
Schenck's boys waited on me with a request that
my little girls be permitted to " come out and keep
house " for them. The little girls, they added gal
lantly, would be allowed to choose the boys ! That
was not difficult. The small housekeepers walked
off with Tom and Charley. "Say," said one of the
proud owners of real estate, with a pristine recogni
tion of woman's place in the household, " will your
cook give you some potatoes and apples ? We've
got a splendid fire around the corner/'
" Sure, an I'll not lave you do it," said Anne out
of the basement window. " Is it burnin' down the
place ye'll be afther doin' ? " but a " Please, Anne,
dear," from the smallest housekeeper settled the
matter. A fire in the street would be a strange
spectacle in the Borough of Brooklyn to-day.
A family of healthy children well governed can
not be unhappy, even in the most depressing circum
stances. My own little brood positively refused to
be miserable. They had literally nothing that must
be acquired with money, but their own ingenuity
supplied all deficiencies. In the vacant space in the
rear of our house there was a cherry tree which never
fruited, but bore a wealth of green leaves and blos
soms. There the children elected to establish a
menagerie. They soon stocked it from the " estray "
animals in the street. They were " Rebel," the ter
rier; "Vixen," the dachshund; " Tearful Tommy,"
the cat ; " Desdemona," a white rabbit ; and " Othello,"
334 My Day
her black husband, purchased from a dealer ; and
" Fleetwing," the pigeon, which had trustfully
entered one of Roger's traps. As there were
no stockades, no cages, Fleetwing was tethered
to the cherry tree, and as cord might wound her
slender leg, a broad string of muslin was provided
for her comfort.
One day I heard lamentation and excited barking
in the menagerie. Fleetwing had vindicated her
right to her name, and was calmly sailing in the blue
ether, like a kite with a very long tail her muslin
fetter trailing behind her. We hoped she would
return, but she never did. Othello and Desdemona
were very interesting. They always came, like
children, to the table with the dessert, hopping
around on the cloth from corner to corner for
bits of celery ; but when the fires were kindled,
Desdemona breathed coal gas from the register,
keeled over, and expired. Othello's mourning coat
expressed suitable sorrow and respect, but very
soon he too experimented with the register and fol
lowed his helpmate.
The time came (with these healthy children to
feed) when, like Mrs. Cadwalader, I had to get my
coals by stratagem and pray to heaven for my salad
oil with this difference, that my prayer was for
daily bread, and that alone. Long and painfully
did I ponder the dreadful problem how to keep
my family alive without driving the dear head of
the house to desperation. Study, work, unremitting
study and work from early morning until late at
night was his daily portion. Not until the last ex-
My Day 335
pedient had failed should he know aught of my
household anxieties.
At last I resolved to go to a dignified old gentle
man I had observed behind the desk at a neighbor
ing grocery and tell him the truth. But I remembered
my New York experience with the silver. So be it !
I had borne rebuff more than once I could bear
it again.
I told Mr. Champney for this was the name
of the old gentleman that I was the wife of Gen
eral Pryor, that we had come North to live, that my
husband's profession was not yielding enough for
our support, nor had we any immediate ground upon
which to build hope for better fortune; that I did
hope, however, to pay for provisions for my family
sometime, not soon, but certainly if we lived ; and
that certainly, without food, we should not live !
He wished to know if I was the mother of the
children he had seen in his store. I answered in
the affirmative, and with no further parley he drew
forth a little yellow pass-book and handed it to me.
" Use this freely, madam," he said ; " I shall never
ask you for a penny ! You will pay me. General
Pryor is bound to succeed." He kept his word.
His German porter, Fred, came to me every morn
ing for my frugal orders, and gave me every possible
attention. At every day of reckoning demanded by
myself, my creditor politely remarked, there was " no
occasion for hurry " ! His name, " S. T. Champney,"
was, thenceforward, with my children, " the St."
and as such remains in my memory.
The city of Brooklyn had grown almost as rapidly
336 My Day
as the Western cities Chicago, Seattle, and others,
and a great number of poor people were crowding
into it, seeking homes. Perpetually recurring in
stances of distress and homelessness appealed to the
good women of Brooklyn Heights Mrs. Bulkley,
Mrs. Packer, Mrs. Alanson Trask, Mrs. Eaton, wife
of a professor of the Packer Institute, Mrs. Rosman,
Mrs. Craig, and others, and they finally resolved to
found a home for friendless women and children. They
rented a small frame building on one of the upper
streets, and in a few months the house was crowded.
Mrs. Eaton, early sent by heaven to be my good
angel, had longed for an opportunity to relieve my
loneliness and isolation, and she procured for me an
invitation to join the society of women. I soon be
came interested, and spent part of every day with
the wretched beneficiaries of the charity. Finally
our small house was unwisely crowded, and the chil
dren became ill. Mrs. Packer took one of the poor
little babies in a dying condition to her own home,
and nursed it with the utmost tenderness. I gave
shelter to one of the women, and others were taken
by the different members of the society until we
could command healthy quarters for them. We
resolved to purchase a large house, and entered with
great zeal upon our work. It was my good fortune
to discover the present Home on Concord Street,
the fine old Bache mansion about to be sold for a
beer-garden. I was requested to draw up a petition
to the legislature for an appropriation, which I did
in the most forceful language I could command.
Mrs. Packer went to Albany with it, and $10,000
My Day 337
was immediately granted us. Each of us (we
were only fifteen), armed with a little collector's
book, undertook to canvass the town. We needed
$20,000 more to buy our home.
I went forth with a heavy heart for I was the
only one who had not headed her subscription
with $500. I collected a few pitiful sums only.
Nobody would listen to me nobody knew me!
I bore it as long as I could, and one evening I an
nounced to my astounded general that I intended
to give a concert. He informed me in strenuous
English that he considered me a lunatic.
However, I went to work. I engaged a profes
sional reader, who agreed to give his services ;
persuaded a German music teacher to lend me her
pupils; and then looked around for a "star." In
vestigation resulted in my learning that Madame
Anna Bishop was living in New York. Once a
very famous prima donna, she was now " shelved,''
although her voice was still good. She had grown
stout, and could no longer create a sensation in
"The Dashing Young Sergeant" that "marched
away " so gallantly fifteen years before.
I hunted up Madame Bishop. She received my
proposition graciously. Would she give an evening
for the poor friendless women ? " Give, my dear lady !
I give nothing.' Am I not a friendless woman my
self! But I'll come for $100, and bring my accom
panist. He shall give his evening. But I never
sing for nothing."
I engaged madame and then I was a busy
woman indeed. I hired a hall and two pianos, wrote
338 My Day
programmes and advertisements and had rose-colored
cards painted, " Soiree, Musical and Literary." I
discovered a florist near my hall, and persuaded him
to lend me all his plants, I wrote invitations to
my ushers and presented each one with a crystal
heart for a badge, and then I went home, on the
great evening, tired to death, and perfectly sure it
would end in failure. My general, fully of the
same opinion, tried to comfort me by saying that I
would know better next time. He went early to
the hall, and when I arrived he was pacing the street
in front of the door. " The place is crammed full,"
he announced ; " there is hardly standing room."
It wanted but eight minutes to the hour announced
for commencing, and Madame Bishop had not ar
rived. Mrs. Gamp's fiddle-string illustration would
have again been a feeble expression of mine. My
heart almost failed me. But at last the expected car
riage arrived, madame, her maid, and her accom
panist. To my exclamation of relief, she threw back
her head and laughed heartily: "Oh, you amateurs !
Now, you just go and get a seat and enjoy the music.
We'll go on by the programme all right."
Advance sale of tickets had yielded $100. This
I handed madame in an envelope. All went well.
She was very good indeed very spirited. The
dashing young sergeant marched away with all the
fire of earlier days. Everybody was pleased. When
I thanked madame, she slipped into my hand her
own donation $50. The next day I entered #500
upon my collection book and, thus vindicated, I was
able to face my colleagues.
My Day 339
A great and useful chanty is this Home for
friendless women and children in Brooklyn. And
noble were the women I learned to know and love
who worked with me there. They made me their
corresponding secretary, and liked everything I did
for them.
Some women formerly of high position in the
South found temporary refuge in this Home. The
world would be surprised if I should give their
names ! In the depth of winter I once found a
woman bearing one of Virginia's oldest names. She
was sitting upon a box beside a fireless stove,
warming her baby in her bosom. Her husband
had gone out to hunt for work ! She had no fire,
no furniture, no food! Another, belonging to a
proud South Carolina family, I found in an attic in
New York. She had had no food for two days !
These, and more, I was enabled by the lovely
women of Brooklyn to relieve, delicately and per
manently. Better, truer, more cultivated women I
have nowhere known. Of the extent of my own
anxieties and privations they never knew. Some
thing within me proudly forbade me to complain.
My dear Mrs. Eaton alone knew the true
condition of my own family. She lives to bear
testimony to the truth of the strange story I am
telling the story of a Southern general and his
wife, who showed smiling, brave faces to the world,
and suffered for ten years the pangs of extreme
poverty in their home, working all the time to the
utmost limit of human endurance. Not one
moment's recreation did we allow ourselves our
340 My Day
" destiny was work, work, work " and patiently
we fulfilled it. Hard study filled my husband's
every waking hour, and few were his hours of sleep.
Excessive use of his eyes night and day so injured
them that at one time he found reading impossible.
Gordon read his law aloud to him for many weeks.
I once copied a book of law forms for him as we had
no money to buy the book the hardest work I
have ever done ! It was my custom to retire at night
with my family and, after all were quietly sleeping, to
rise and with my work-basket creep down to the
library, light a lamp, and sew until two or three
o'clock in the morning. There were seven chil
dren. All must be clothed. I literally made every
garment they wore, even their wraps in winter.
Through the kindness of Professor Eaton arrange
ments were made that enabled my little girls to
attend the Packer Institute, founded by the most
gracious and beautiful of women, Mrs. Harriet
Packer. When they went forth in the morning to
their school, they all presented a fresh, well-groomed
appearance the result of the midnight lamp and
work-basket !
I remember but one occasion when any member of
the family indulged in outside amusements. Just
across the river were the brilliant theatres and opera-
houses of the great metropolis. Herein Brooklyn
were plays, concerts, balls, evening parties. The
children for five or six years after our coming North
never supposed these things possible for them. I
cannot say the fate of Tantalus was ours. True,
the rivers of delight were around us, but we never
My Day 341
"bent to drink" never gave the "refluent waters"
an opportunity to shrink from our lips. We simply
ignored them. But Gordon and Roger had one
great pleasure in 1868. It would be hard to make
this generation understand the emotions with which
they saw and heard Dickens. His books had for
a time made the very atmosphere of their lives !
They talked Dickensese to each other, and fitted
his characters into the situations of their own lives.
Now they were to look upon the man himself. Of
this experience my daughter writes me :
" I remember as I awaited his appearance how my heart
beat. I doubt whether the recrudescence of Shakespeare
would move me as much now. At the appointed hour he
ascended the little platform of Plymouth Church with a
rapid gait, almost running up the few steps, as I remember;
but truly my heart was thumping so, and there was such
a mist of agitation before my eyes, that I did not at once
clearly discern the great magician. When my brain cleared
with a jerk and I could make myself believe that Dickens
was really before me, what did I see ? A very garish per
son with a velvet-faced coat and a vast double watch chain
all, as well as his rather heavy-nosed unspiritual face per
fectly presented in the photograph of the time. He had an
alert, businesslike way with him, no magnetism, as I recol
lect. But his reading impressed me then as now, as per
fection of elocution natural, spontaneous, as if he himself
enjoyed every word of it and had never done it before. He
read the trial scene from Pickwick inimitably. I think I
have since seen the criticism that he did not give us the
Sam Weller of our imagination, but certainly it did not so
impress me then. I was absolutely satisfied. He followed
Pickwick with Dr. Marigold, for which I cared much less.
342 My Day
Dickens's pathos, even in my days of thraldom, almost al
ways struck me as mawkish. Somehow, in looking at the
man, it was hard to believe in his sentiment though I
still think much of it sincere. But truly, in appearance, he
is what is now called c a bounder.' I never read Forster's
life of him : I know him only through his own books, but
my impression of him from his appearance is that he was
not exactly a gentleman. Yet I forgot everything except
delight in the reading after my initial shock of the velvet
coat, the ponderous watch chains, the countenance to match.
And to this day one of my most cherished memories is that
I saw and heard Dickens."
CHAPTER XXXIII
I SOON found that two of my children were
old enough to pine for something more than
physical comfort. They did not propose to
live by bread alone. The appealing eyes of our
daughter Gordon were not to be resisted and, as I
have said, she entered the Packer Institute with her
little sisters, entering the senior class, where she soon
graduated with the first honors, and where she
nobly taught an advanced class, relinquishing at
eighteen years of age all the pleasures to which she
was entitled. Theo, I supposed, would learn law
in his father's office. But he, too, like Goethe,
craved "more light." One day as I was returning
from church he asked me, with suppressed feeling,
if he was ever to go to college.
I was smitten to the heart ! When I repeated this
to his father, he declared, "He shall!" And
within a few months a scholarship at Princeton was
found and promised, provided the boy could pass a
creditable entrance examination.
The little man went up alone early one morning
to meet his fate. He returned at night. " And
did you enter ? " we exclaimed. Very calmly he an
swered : " They were very kind to me at Princeton.
I was examined at some length, and I shall enter the
junior class."
When I packed his small trunk for his collegiate
343
344
life, I found I had little to put into it little more
than my tears ! His first report read, " In a class
of eighty-three he stands first."
He maintained this standing for two years. The
class included bearded men who had been prepared
thoroughly in the best preparatory schools. Theo
had received less than two years at Mr. Gordon
McCabe's school. All the rest of his time he
had given to study, alone, and unassisted.
A day came in Petersburg when he, perceiving
the necessities of his family, had sold his beloved
rifle for $40. Out of that sum he reserved for
himself $2, and returned home with a work on
advanced mathematics under his arm.
He was a -perfect boy. If he ever thought
wrongly, I cannot tell I know he never did
wrong. Personally, he was as beautiful as he was
good clear-eyed, serene, with a grand air. " For
the future of one of my children," I was wont
to say, " I have no fear. Theo will always be
fortunate." It was said of him by President McCosh
that he was " preternaturally gifted mentally." He
always acquired knowledge with perfect ease. He
studied and read whatever his father studied or
read politics, literature, and even military tactics.
In the latter he was so proficient that when a little
lad in linen blouses, the regiments at Smithfield
would mount him on a stand and make him drill the
companies.
At the end of his collegiate life he wrote : fc The
professors have been so good as to give me the
first honor and also the mathematical scholarship."
THEODORICK BLAND PRYOR.
My Day 345
This scholarship required him to study at least one
year in an English university. Accordingly, in the
following autumn he was sent, through President
McCosh's advice, to St. Peters, Cambridge Univer
sity. He was just nineteen when he graduated.
He was too young and inexperienced to be a
good manager, and soon perceived that his $1000
would not carry him through his year. A prize
of a Cambridge scholarship and $40 was offered.
He worked for it and won it binding wet towels
around his tired brain as he worked.
I remember one lovely June afternoon, which
melted into a perfect moonlight evening. My little
girls, attired in white, listened to the home music,
Roger, with his violin, accompanied by his mother
on the piano my dear Aunt Mary had bequeathed
to Gordon. A hasty ring at the door, a rush of
eager steps, and Theo was in my arms ! We
thought him lovely. His father proudly marked
his fine air and, with amusement, the delicate hint of
a rising inflection in his voice. Never were people
so glad and proud. Once more we were all together.
He decided not to return to England, although
his masters at Cambridge wrote him assuring him
that, although he " could not win a fellowship with
out becoming a naturalized British subject," yet he
would " ultimately take an excellent degree." He
entered the Columbia Law School, that he might fit
himself to be his father's partner.
In October he was called to a higher court. One
warm evening he walked out " to cool off before
sleeping," and we never saw him more !
34-6 My Day
The tides bore his beautiful body to us nine days
after we lost him, and his beloved Alma Mater
claimed it. There he lies in the section reserved
for the presidents and professors of the University
side by side with the ashes of the Edwards and
the Alexanders that await with him the great awak
ening. His classmates sent to Virginia for a shaft
of granite, and upon this stone is inscribed: "In
commemoration of his virtues, genius, and scholar
ship, and in enduring testimony of our love, this
monument is erected by his classmates."
Of him a great future was expected. " He was,"
said one of the journals of the time, " one of the
most gifted minds that Virginia ever produced.
America probably had not his superior. Only
twenty years at the time of his death, his powerful
and mature intellect gave assurance of any position
his ambition might covet. He was always first, and
easily first, in any school, academy, or college that
he entered. His powers were indeed marvellous.
Proud of being a Virginian, his loss to the state, to
the country indeed, is irreparable. In arms and in
statesmanship Virginia has nothing to covet, in
letters a new field of glory awaits her. Pryor, fore
most in that field, would have filled it with the
lustre of his fame. Oh ! what a loss, what a loss ! "
There is a peculiar bitterness in the early blight
ing of such powers. But although the laurel was
so soon snatched from his brow, he had already
worked nobly and achieved greatly. He had done
more in his short life than the most of us during a
long life. Whether the end came through the
My Day 347
hand of violence, or from accident, he could ap
proach " the Great Secret " as did John Sterling,
" without a thought of fear and with very much of
hope." Such as he confirm our faith in immortality
and make heaven lovelier to our thought.
He was a victim of his father's fallen fortunes.
Now, surely, Nemesis must be satisfied 1 Innocent
of crime, we had yet suffered full measure for the
crime of the nation. Others had been called to
give up their first-born sons. We had now given up
ours ! Was it not enough ? All the joy of life was
forever ended. Hereafter one bitter memory in
tensified every pang, poisoned every pleasure,
so clearly did our great bereavement seem to grow
out of our misfortunes, and all these to be the
sequence of cruel, terrible, wicked war.
But why should I ask my readers to listen while
I press, " like Philomel, my heart against a thorn ! "
We can change nothing in our lives. We must
bear the lot ordained for us ! We need not ask
others to suffer with us ! Grosse seelen dulden still !
The story I am telling must end not later than
the year 1900 and I find no fitting place for a
brief tribute to another brilliant son whom we lost
after that year, unless my readers will forgive me for
a word just here. I leave the splendid record of his
services as a physician and surgeon, where it is safe
to live in the memories of his brethren at home
and abroad. " Pryor's practice " is still quoted in
England and France as the salvation of suffering
My Day
womanhood. But other records are written on the
hearts of the poor and humble. "Many a night,"
said one of his hospital confreres, " with the East
River full of ice, and snow and sleet pelting
straight in his face, Dr. William Pryor has crossed
in a rowboat to see some poor waif at Blackwell's
Island upon whom he had operated, carrying with
him some delicacy the hospital diet-sheet did not
afford."
He was most richly endowed, physically and men
tally, and he gave to suffering humanity all that God
had given him.
I resolved, when I consented to write this book,
that I would not intrude my own feelings and emo
tions upon those who are kind enough to read my
story. I know, alas, I am not the only one upon
whom the tower of Siloam has fallen. We are di
vinely forbidden to believe ourselves more unworthy
than those who escape such disaster.
" The Thorny Path/' a painting by P. Stachie-
wicz, represents women toiling along a perilous path.
On one side is a high, barren rock ; on the other a
ghastly precipice. Safety lies only in the narrow
path, uneven with slippery stones and thick-set with
cruel thorns. Two women are central figures in the
procession : one, ragged and drunken and cursing
her lot, reels unsteadily against the flinty wall ; an
other treads the same path with bent head, and
hands clasped in prayer. A white " robe of right
eousness " has descended upon the latter, and celes
tial light surrounds her head, albeit the pilgrim feet
are unshod and torn with thorns.
WILLIAM RICE PRYOR.
My Day 349
Sometimes a song or picture has taught us more
than many sermons. When Christine Nilsson,
standing firm and erect with upward look, sang " I
KNOW," we were thrilled and surprised into a vivid
faith, which had burned with less fervor under the
teaching of the pulpit. We had believed, but now
we felt that we knew, that the Redeemer lives and
will stand in the latter day upon the earth, and feel
ing this, we were comforted.
CHAPTER XXXIV
IN 1872 Horace Greeley was nominated by the
Democratic party for the presidency, to oppose
General Grant's second term, and wrote to my
husband :
" DEAR GENERAL PRYOR :
u I want you to help me in this canvass. I want you to
go to Virginia and do some work for me there and at the
South.
"Your friend,
" HORACE GREELEY."
Mr. Greeley had at first opposed the Civil War.
He had suffered great mental distress at its approach.
He labored with all his might to prevent a resort to
arms but, when this was inevitable, he followed
the advice of Polonius. It was he who raised the
cry " On to Richmond," and he was thereafter a
powerful supporter of the government. After the
surrender, he just as strongly advocated pacific meas
ures, opposed the action of the federal govern
ment in holding Mr. Jefferson Davis a prisoner
without trial, and, oblivious to all personal and
pecuniary consequences, had gone to Richmond and
in open court signed the bail-bond of the Confed
erate President.
It can be easily perceived that the active support
of a man like General Pryor who could remember
350
My Day 351
and use to advantage these facts might be ex
tremely useful to Mr. Greeley. The temptation
appealed, with force, to my husband. Active politi
cal life had been his most successful, most agreeable
occupation, but he remembered his resolution to work*
and work in the study of his profession, and declined
Mr. Greeley's invitation.
" You are making a great mistake," said one of
his friends, " in your office all day, and at home all
night. I should like to know how you expect to
get along ! You never make a visit you are
never seen at a club or any public gathering."
" Very true," said my husband, " but I am per
suaded that my only hope for salvation here is to know
something, have something the New York people
want. They do want good lawyers, and I must study
day and night to make myself one."
His friend, John Russell Young, far away in
Europe, heard of Mr. Greeley's campaign. Him
self an intense Republican and devoted friend of
General Grant, he could not learn with equanimity
of any added strength to Mr. Greeley from the
support of the South. He wrote from Geneva,
September 16, 1872:
" DEAR PRYOR :
cc I saw in the New York World that you were to make
a speech in favor of Greeley in Virginia, and had my own
reflections on the announcement. I should like to exchange
observations with Mrs. Pryor on this subject, as she has
positive political convictions. But I remember her saying
once that darning stockings had a debilitating effect upon
literary aspirations and she made no reservation in favor
352 My Day
of politics. At the present moment I should like to en
list her attention and support.
" The idea of R. A. P. the representative fire-eater, the
Robespierre, or Danton, or, if you like it better, the Harry
Hotspur of the Southern Revolution, the one orator who
clamored so impatiently for the Shrewsbury clock to strike,
oh, my friend ! The spectacle of this leader champion
ing Horace Greeley ! Can the irony of events have a
deeper illustration ? Miserere ! How the world is tum
bling ! What can we expect next ? Jefferson Davis and
Frederick Douglass running on the presidential ticket, in
favor of Chinese suffrage ! If you really did make a speech,
send it to me. I suppose in your own mind you have
made many, for events like these develop thought in the
minds of all thinking men. I do not see Greeley's elec
tion. I have a letter from him written in July which speaks
very cheerfully. But I have a letter from the White House
quite as cheerful. I cannot think that Grant will be
beaten ; and am certain, with all deference to Mrs. Pryor's
positive political views, that he should not be. I can
understand the passionate desire you and your people have
for honest reconstruction. I can see how you might even
fall into the arms of Horace Greeley to achieve such a de
liverance. But there is no honest reconstruction possible
under Mr. Greeley and the men who would accompany
him in power. The South has its future in its own hands.
If the men who led it as you did had followed your example
when the war was over, there would be no trouble. But
that required courage a higher courage than ever rebellion
demanded ; and if the South has not reasserted itself, it is
the fault of the Southern men themselves.
u But I will not preach politics from this distance. If
you are not in the campaign, keep out ! Run over here
with Miss Gordon. How delighted I should be to see
you. I am sure mademoiselle would revel in Paris. Mrs.
My Day 353
Young would travel with her, too, to Germany, visit all
the famous convents and ecclesiastical establishments and,
finally, wind up with Paris and an exhausted search through
the shops.
"For myself, I feel that I am having opportunities and
neglecting them. However, I have always my work, have
grappled with French, done something in Spanish, and have
designs on the German language. But as you can only
eat your artichoke a leaf at a time, French is my main
occupation outside my business. I don't have time to play
chess and I presume Miss Gordon will give me a
knight when we play next. You mustn't think me utterly
good-for-naught. I have finished Carlyle's c Frederick J in
thirteen volumes think of that ! In the summer I dissi
pated in novels, 'Don Quixote,' 'Tom Jones,' c Roder
ick Random,' and now 1 am about to begin 'Romola,'
which Bayard Taylor said yesterday was the best historical
novel in our language. Remember me most kindly to all
at home, and believe me to be, dear Pryor,
" Your friend sincerely,
" JOHN RUSSELL YOUNG."
We had first known John Russell Young as a boy
sent by Colonel Forney to report a speech of my
husband's in Congress, now on the staff of the New
York Herald. During a temporary residence in
London he began a series of charming letters to my
daughter lasting until the end of his life. From
London he wrote :
" MY DEAR Miss GORDON :
" I send you two autographs one is from Dinah
Mulock Craik (who wrote 'John Halifax,' you know), the
other from Mr. Gladstone, the former Premier.
2A
354 My Day
" I shall try to obtain an autograph of Carlyle, and his
photograph, for your library. The old man is very hard to
reach he is very old. I have not seen George Eliot
yet, but will. I dined with William Black last evening.
u I have had a good time in London. I never had so much
attention in my life I don't know how it happened, but
so it fell. My Macmillan article opened the door, however,
of every newspaper and magazine to me and the door is
of no use, except to look inside ! But fancy the people I
have met ! not, as I said, Carlyle or George Eliot (but
she is possible when she comes home), but I think I have
dined with nearly everybody else. Green the short
history man and I have become good friends. I told
him how much you liked his book, and he blushed like a
June rose. I have dined with Huxley, Tyndall, Froude,
Browning, Herbert Spencer, Kingsley, Bryce, Green,
Norman Lockyer, William Black, Motley, and I don't
know how many others, so you see, as far as coming
abroad has any value in enlarging one's horizon, I have not
come in vain. You must forgive the vanity of all this, but
when one is away from home, what can one do but write
about one's own self ?
" I wrote your father last week that I was about to
come home. I packed all my trunks and engaged my
room on the Adriatic, which sails on the 25th. A cable
comes from Mr. Bennett asking me to await his coming.
So I have unpacked my trunk and again resigned myself to
the London fog. If you will gently break the news to the
retired statesman who mourns over the decadence of the
republic, you will be a dutiful child and my very good
friend. I am very much disappointed in not going home.
There is a little woman whose eyes are, I suppose, sad
enough straining through the mists for a truant lord who
seems to wander as long as Ulysses. There are friends
whose faces it would be sunshine to see, and there are
My Day 355
duties in the way of educating public opinion on the
question of the presidency, all of which is only a round
about way of saying I am homesick, and that I would give
the best book in my library (you see how extravagant
I am) if it were in my power to accept an invitation from
your mother to tea. I would even run the risk of a quarrel
with your father on politics ! Remember me to all at
home to your mother with especial duty, and believe me,
my dear Miss Gordon,
" Always yours sincerely,
" JNO. RUSSELL YOUNG."
u P.S. From a letter your mother has kindly written me,
I perceive you are to visit Virginia. Now if you will only
justify the hopes of your friends and bring back a descend
ant of Pocahontas or Patrick Henry or of G. W. to be a
comfort to your father and mother, I shall feel you have
not visited Virginia in vain. However, as that is a subject
from which I have often been warned away by the Pryor
family, I shall not venture to give any advice.
" Again your friend sincerely,
" JNO. RUSSELL YOUNG."
" I am sending you," he says in another letter, u a notice
able article on George Eliot's work. You will observe
the tendency to criticise, and quotations of little things to
sustain an adverse verdict. I remember only better things.
Of course I must acknowledge the tinge of bitterness in all
of George Eliot's writings, but the latter-day critic brings
a railing accusation against the artistic features of her books.
He thinks it was a dreadful thing for Dorothea to marry a
second time, but how trifling is all this ! I always feel
when I have finished 'AdamBede' and 'Middlemarch' like
saying in reverence, ' Oh, Mistress ! Oh, my Queen ! '
for she is the mistress and queen of her art, and ought to
be mentioned with Carlyle and Hugo."
356 My Day
The (i chance " for which General Pryor for nine
years had worked and waited came at last. A New
York correspondent of the St. Louis Republican
thus comments upon the event : " General Pryor
borrowed the law books which he needed to begin
the study requisite to enable him to do justice to
his clients, and he studied as he fought bravely.
No man has burned more midnight oil, and from
being no lawyer ten years ago, he has grown to be a
most accomplished and erudite member of the bar.
In his late great speech in the trial of Tilton against
Henry Ward Beecher, in resisting the attempt of
William M. Evarts, of Beecher's counsel, to prevent
the plaintiff from testifying, General Pryor hurled
law at the head of Mr. Evarts which the latter in
all of his delving had not reached, and Mr. Evarts
complimented General Pryor, not only upon the
brilliant presentation of the law, but upon his ex
tended acquaintance with the authorities. His
speech won the point for Tilton. He is known to
be an indefatigable student. Seven hours a day he
studies law as though he needs it all on the morrow.
No man in New York has a more brilliant future ;
and when it comes, no man will have so completely
carved out his own way and made his own fortune."
This trial against America's great preacher was
famous at home and in England. The accusation
of Theodore Tilton aroused a tremendous feeling
throughout the United States and abroad wherever
Mr. Beecher's great reputation had established itself.
The trial lasted six months. Mr. Tilton's counsel
were Mr. Beach, Hon. Sam Morris, Judge Fullerton,
My Day 357
and General Pryor. Arrayed against them were
Hon. William M. Evarts, Hon. Benjamin Tracy,
Thomas Shearman, and Austin Abbott.
To General Pryor was intrusted all the delicate
or obscure questions of law incident upon the case.
The press of the day universally awarded him the
highest praise for learning and thorough knowledge
of his subject. He won a very great reputation,
and from that time onward felt that his professional
career was to be an active one. The impression the
new advocate the rebel politician and soldier
turned lawyer made upon the correspondents of
the press never varied. A New York correspond
ent of an Ohio paper 1 thus describes him :
" General Pryor's reply to Mr. Evarts's was, after all,
the greatest surprise of the day. It was so remarkable in
many respects, that I am at a loss where to begin the-
characterization. Not an exciting topic, one would say,
for a fiery Southern orator, to analyze the statutes of the
state of New York on the subject of evidence from mar
ried people. But it was evident from the very first, though
formal, sentence, that exploded from General Pryor's lips
that he needed no outward occasion to minister excitement
to his surcharged. batteries of personal electricity. A dry
legal question was provocation enough ; what he would
do under the heat of an impassioned issue is inconceiv
able, if the proportions of occasion and effect were pre
served. His execution, to borrow a musician's term, is
prodigious, considered merely as a tour de force. It is a
volcanic torrent of speech. To say the enunciation is
rapid, is nothing : it is lightning-like. The most dex-
1 The Herald, and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.
358 My Day
terous reporters could hardly follow him. Its nervous
energy is equally remarkable, and seems to break out from
every pore of his body, as well as out of his mouth, eyes,
and finger ends. With the legal volume in his left hand,
the eye-glass quivering in his right, and jumping to his nose
and off again, with or without object, like a thing of life,
or emphasizing the utterance with thrusting gestures of its
own ; his head thrown up, at every beginning his eyes
shoot straight at the judge as if they would transfix him,
and he drives onward like a Jehu rushing into battle. He
has no moderate passages ; but perhaps he will avail him
self of these effects when he comes to address the jury.
And yet, all this prodigious nervous expenditure, so far
from drawing off the power of the brain, is only an index
of its action ; so far from jarring the self-possession and
sequence of thought, or the precision of conception and
expression, it only enhances and secures all these, as sheer
impetus sustains the equilibrium of a wheel. The diction,
with all its headlong speed, is perfect in precision and force,
and no less in elegance ; not an after word, not a word of
surplusage, or a word to be bettered in revisal ; and the
like is true of the closely knit argument."
This picture, drawn with a bold hand, greatly
amused the home circle in Willow Street. But then,
we had not heard the speech !
CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN.
CHAPTER XXXV
GORDON and I had the privilege of seeing
Charlotte Cushman when, no longer able
to act in the plays in which she had so dis
tinguished herself, she gave a reading at one of the
large halls in New York. She was infirm, less from
age than a malady which was consuming her. I
found an immense audience assembled in her honor.
There were no more seats, no more standing room.
She had no assistants, no support. A chair behind
a small table was all the mise en scene, and here,
dressed in a matronly gown of black silk and lace,
the great tragedienne seated herself. Her gray hair
was rolled back a la Pompadour from her broad, high
forehead, and beneath black brows her eye kindled
as she glanced over the fine audience. As she de
scribed it afterward, " a modest farewell reading blos
somed into a brilliant testimonial."
After our enthusiastic response to her graceful
greeting, she said simply : " Ladies and gentlemen,
I shall read I trust for your pleasure, surely for
mine," laying her hand upon her heart "from
the second scene in the third act of 'Henry the
Eighth."
It so happened there had been, incident upon her
appearance, a remarkable discussion in some of the
journals of the day. The wise ones, the elect, had
paused in their speculations as to the authorship of
359
360 My Day
Shakespeare's plays, or the Letters of Junius, or the en
lightenment of the nations by certain rearrangement
of periods in Hamlet's immortal soliloquy, and had
cast an eye of scrutiny upon Wolsey's magnificent
monologue. To nous autres it seems clear enough
as it is but who are we that we should know
the heart hidden under a red robe ? They gravely
opined that the king, not God, was meant in the
lines, " Had I but served my God with half the zeal,"
etc. Without doubt Charlotte Cushman was aware
of this remarkable discussion. A good many backs
were straightened to " attention " as she reached the
noble words :
. . . O Cromwell, Cromwell !
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, HE would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies."
She pointed upward as she uttered reverently the
word "HE."
From this, after a brief pause she did not leave
her seat all evening she passed to "Much Ado
about Nothing." Never was there such a Dog
berry, bursting with arrogance and ignorance. Mrs.
Maloney, on the Chinese question, followed, dis
missing, with inimitable impudence, the mistress
who had just shown her the door. Then she
became the loyal, spirited, wildly sweet Kentucky
girl and her blue-grass horse, Kentucky Belle,
utterly charming, both of them, concluding with
" Molly Carew." In this she was tremendous. The
policemen at the door came in to listen ; the ap-
My Day 361
plause was loud and long. " Molly Carew," forsooth !
What is there in " Molly Carew " ? What in the en
treaty to take off her bonnet lest she cost her lover,
as he declares, " the loss of me wanderin' soul/' to
bring down the house ? What in the indignant
summing up that she had better be careful ; " you'll
feel mighty queer when you see me weddin' mairch-
ing down the street an' yersilf not in it " ?
I soon found out how much there was in Molly
Carew per se, with no Charlotte Cushman to in
terpret ! I happened to have Samuel Lover's
poems, and when I reached home, I took the book
from the library shelves and summoned the children
to listen to the funniest thing they had ever heard
in all their lives. " I warn you," said I, " you'll
half kill yourselves laughing."
I read " Molly Carew." Round eyes opened wider
in astonishment as I proceeded. There was not
a smile ; not the faintest glimmer of mirth. Dead
silence was broken by a polite " Is that all ? Thank
you, mamma," as they escaped. Oh, genius, gift of
the gods ! Who can measure it ? Who, not born to
it, can hope to win it ! Who can attain even a far
away imitation of it ! How it can clothe and
glorify the simplest ideas ! How it transfigured
Charlotte Cushman haggard and gray from keen
physical suffering, knowing well that her hour was
at hand ! What noble restraint in her selections,
ignoring pain and sorrow, denying herself the tribute
of sympathy, bidding us good night with a smile on
her lips and words demanding an answering smile on
ours !
362 My Day
To remember Charlotte Cushman is to recall
Madame Helena Modjeska totally different, cer
tainly not inferior. I met her in society in New
York. Her beautiful face, her tender, sensitive
mouth, and the "far-away lookofhereyes, as though
she were thinking of the wrongs of Poland," are
never to be forgotten. And the splendor of her
genius ! I saw her as Ophelia to Edwin Booth's
Hamlet. "You are as good as a Greek chorus, my
lord," she in a Savonarola chair, he on ufauteuil
at her feet. I saw her also as Queen Catherine. I
think she impressed all who knew her as a most
sad woman. But is not melancholy the preroga
tive of genius ? I, for one, never knew a man or
woman of genius, real genius, who was merry.
Madame Modjeska made melancholy beautiful.
She was once the guest of a lady who had gathered
together a number of choice spirits in her honor.
One of them, forgotten of her good angel, asked,
" How do you like our country, madame ! "
" Oh," spreading out her hands to signify empty
space, and speaking in a weary tone, " Oh ! It is all
all one great level."
"Ah, but," said her hostess, "patience! I shall
introduce you by and by to a little hill."
An introduction followed, and at the close of the
evening Madame Modjeska, pressing the hand of
her hostess at parting, said with feeling : -
"Ah, madame ! She was one great mountain ! "
Before the war which cut me off from every
pleasure demanding leisure and a little money, I
heard the elder Booth in " Hamlet" and I must
I
HELENA MODJESKA.
My Day 363
confess he was rather a wheezy Hamlet in his old
age. In Brooklyn the circumstances of my life for
bade my indulging my passion for music and the
enjoyment of a good play, but we had tickets for
gallery seats to see Edwin Booth when Madame
Modjeska played with him. Afterward we saw him
in " The Fool's Revenge," and I remember being
quite carried away and oblivious of everything except
his splendid acting, until the calm voice of my son re
called me, " Don't you think, mamma, you had better
sit down ? " I spent a summer at Narragansett in
the same hotel with Mr. Booth when he was resting
his weary brain. He had a hooded chair placed in
a corner of a veranda overlooking the sea, and there
alone and in silence he spent most of his time. His
devoted daughter ministered to him and carefully
protected him from intrusion. At certain conditions
of the tide the sands of the Narragansett beach emit
a weird, faint, singing sound as the waves recede
from them, moaning, as it were, because they are
left behind. These sounds could not be heard by
every ear. Some eager listeners never could hear
them. I used to wonder if Edwin Booth did, and
wish I could ask him what they said to him. I
might even tell him what they said to me ! But his
" Edwina" watched him jealously, and we respected
his evident prostration of mind and spirit. His
place at table was near mine. A moonlight smile
would steal over his face when his two grand
children, rosy little tots, came to him at dessert for
a bit of sweet from the hand whose slightest gesture
had once been able to move a multitude. The next
364 My Day
time he was brought vividly before us we were in a
great assembly of his friends, listening to Mr. Parke
Godwin, his friend and ours, as he told of the
sun whose rise, whose splendid noon, and whose
setting we were ever to remember.
In the autumn of 1882 our old Southern friend,
General R. D. Lilley, visited New York in the in
terests of Washington and Lee University. Colo
nel Mapleson, with Adelina Patti, Nicolini, and the
famous danseuse^ Cavalassi, had just arrived for a
brilliant season at the Metropolitan Opera House.
General Lilley sent me a letter from Colonel Maple-
son, which lies before me, in which he offered
"a grand entertainment to be given about the 3d of
March for the endowment of scholarships in Wash
ington and Lee University, in which entertainment
the leading artists of the opera would appear," and
asked for a committee of ladies to act in concert
with him.
General Lilley was in a quandary. He knew no
New York ladies. No more did I. But finally he
won his way into the good graces of the widow of
Governor Dix and mother of the Rev. Morgan Dix,
who granted her drawing-room for our meetings,
and doubtless consulted her own visiting list to
find patronesses. When, at the general's earnest
prayer, I went over to the first meeting, I found a
noble band of women all enthusiasm over the proj
ect. I was a stranger in New York, and but dimly
recognized the names on the committee with my own :
Mrs. John Dix, Mrs. August Belmont, Mrs. Will
iam M. Evarts, Mrs. Francis R. Rives, Mrs.
My Day 365
John Jay, Mrs. (Commodore) Vanderbilt, Mrs.
Vincenzo Botta, Mrs. Henry Clews, Mrs. James
Brown Potter, Mrs. Winfield S. Hancock, and
others, about fifty in all ! I can now easily under
stand that this committee had but to will a thing,
and if it were not accomplished, the fault would not
lie in their lack of potentiality. They had but to
say the word. Means, overflowing means, and gen
erous patronage would be assured.
Colonel Mapleson met with us at our meetings,
which Mrs. Dix made delightful. We had ani
mated discussions over Mrs. Dix's tea-cups, and
adopted fine resolutions. Patti, the colonel assured
us, would sing, certainly, but she needed a vast
deal of coaxing and mock entreaty. Then every
day Nicolini whom she had recently married
wrote us a letter presenting some difficulty which we
must settle. The flowers we ordered were beyond
compare to Arditi, the orchestra leader, a large
music scroll in white flowers, and upon this ground
the first bars of his " II bacio " in blue violets. To
the witch Cavalassi we voted a floral slipper, to Colo
nel Mapleson a silken banner of Stars and Stripes.
What, alas ! could we do for Patti ? Could anything
be enough ? At last we sent for Colonel Mapleson.
" Ladies," he said, cc this will be your easiest task.
Come to the opera-house with bouquets in your
hands or corsage, tied with cords you have taken
from your fans, and throw them to her, impul
sively. There's nothing she so dotes on as to
run all over the stage and pick up flowers, affect
intense surprise at each new bouquet, press them
366 My Day
to her heart, and be utterly overcome at last as
she runs away."
All this was done, I learned, for I was not there
to see ! Colonel Mapleson, however, did not for
get me. He sent me the monogram cut in gold of
Washington and Lee University, and I often wear
it as a souvenir of my charming hours with good
Mrs. Dix and her friends.
When I came to the city to live, I found that
Dr. Dix, his lovely mother, and many of the ladies
of our committee still remembered me. This was
not the last time we were together in a benevolent
enterprise, nor the last time Patti honored me.
Childish as were the little arts attributed to her by
Colonel Mapleson, she could give evidence of a big
warm heart on occasion !
CHAPTER XXXVI
IN 1877 the leading citizens of Brooklyn invited
General Pryor to deliver an address at the Acad
emy of Music on Decoration Day. This was
an opportunity he had long desired, and the invita
tion was eagerly accepted. With great zeal and bit
terness some of the veterans of the Grand Army
resented the invitation, upon which my husband
promptly declined the honor. I do not give the
names of the old soldiers they have long ago been
forgiven and are fully understood. A heated cor
respondence followed one side generous, fraternal
feeling, on the other the bleeding afresh of old, un-
healed wounds. Finally, the general, although
the charm, the grace, of the compliment was all
gone, perceiving it would be childish and ungrate
ful to persist in declining to speak, consented.
The interesting nature of the occasion, and the
conflict it had aroused, drew a very great audience
to the Academy of Music. My husband never
needed notes in speaking, but this time Gordon, in
a very large, clear hand, wrote out his address that
he might refresh, if necessary, his memory.
It was not necessary. He was full of fire and
enthusiasm, and nobly gave the noble sentiments
eagerly quoted next day by the New York tribune.
The closing paragraph strikes no uncertain note. It
must have surprised his audience :
367
368 My Day
" From the vantage ground of a larger observation, with
a more calm and considerable meditation on the causes and
conditions of national prosperity, I, for one, cannot resist
the conclusion that, after all, Providence wisely ordered the
event, and that it is well for the South itself that it was
disappointed in its endeavor to establish a separate govern
ment. Plain is it that, if once established, such a govern
ment could not have long endured. It was founded on
principles that must have proved its downfall. It must
soon have fallen a victim to foreign aggression or domestic
anarchy. Nor to the reestablishment of the Union is the
Confederate soldier any the less reconciled by the destruc
tion of slavery. People of the North, history will record
that slavery fell, not by any efforts of man's will, but by
the immediate intervention and act of the Almighty Him
self. And in the anthem of praise ascending to heaven
for the emancipation of four million human beings, the
voice of the Confederate soldier mingles its note of devout
gratulation. And now in the unconquerable strength of free
dom we may hope that the existence of our blessed Union
is limited only by the mortality that measures the duration
of all human institutions. \_Prolonged applause.~\ " Tribune,
May 31.
" General Roger A. Pryor's Decoration Day address wins
golden opinions. It was brave, patriotic, and statesman
like. He grasps the situation. He does not take much
stock in bygones, thinks gravestones are made to leave be
hind and not to tie to, and would rather have a live man
with average common sense than the biggest obituary that
was ever written. General Pryor is one of the few men
who have a to-morrow." Evening Express, June 12.
The Springfield Republican, May 31, says:
" The Grand Army fellows who opposed inviting Roger
A. Pryor to deliver the address at Brooklyn yesterday
My Day 369
probably feel pretty well ashamed of themselves by this time.
Certainly they would have deprived the country of a very
desirable speech if they had succeeded in preventing his
speaking."
Broad as were the views of the ex-rebel at this
time, the Southern papers indorsed him :
" General Roger A. Pryor's address on Decoration Day, at
Brooklyn, New York, is quite remarkable. It is very brill
iant and very eloquent. There is logic, but it is c logic on
fire,' as Macaulay said of Lord Chatham. There is a
magnificent sweep in the sentences, and high and patriotic
thought throughout. It reminds us in its glow and passion,
in its rich and flowing rhetoric, and in its exquisite dic
tion of Edmund Burke's tremendous speech on the c Nabob
of Arcot's Debts.' We do not think any man can accom
pany the orator, with his kindling, intense periods and so
norous, ornate style, with his lofty thought and impassioned
eloquence, without a responsive thrill of emotion and a feel
ing of pride that this master of speech is a Southron."
Wilmington (N.C.) Star.
" The address of General Roger A. Pryor delivered on
Decoration Day at Brooklyn, N.Y., is a brilliant pro
duction. Like everything emanating from him, it is full of
fine thought and fine sentiment, with a sweeping array of
glowing genius, all clothed in a diction simple, pure, and as
opposite as if the idea and language had been born together
from a brain entirely original and independent in its con
ceptions. The spirit of the address, too, is national, catho
lic, patriotic, and grandly American from beginning to end.
" Pryor is a man of splendid parts, and Virginia has
reason to be proud of him." (Richmond, Va.)
2B
370 My Day
The Richmond Whig paid a handsome tribute:
" Roger A. Pryor is a man of resplendent genius. He
has high culture, too, and he is far from being only an ora
tor to excite the passions, to win applause, and to elicit
admiration. He has comprehensiveness of brain, coupled
with an extraordinary capacity for the nicest dialectics. As
a writer or speaker, he should be invited to no second seat
anywhere. He is more like William Wirt, perhaps, than
any other of the gifted men of this country. And the day
is not distant when, if he goes into politics again, he will
have a national name as familiar to the North as, when he
was a much younger man, it was to the Southern people.
"We have no doubt he will .deliver a speech of un
surpassed beauty and eloquence on Decoration Day in
Brooklyn."
These are but representative quotations. The
whole country was ready to applaud the speech. It
was a fitting close to the first twelve years of our
life of trial and probation. The sweetest praise of
all came in a letter from America's great preacher,
Richard S. Storrs :
" 80 PIERPONT STREET,
"BROOKLYN, N.Y.,
"May 31, 1877.
" MY DEAR GENERAL PRYOR :
" I have read with the very greatest satisfaction and pleas
ure your admirable address of last evening. I sympathize,
in fullest measure, with the delighted enthusiasm with which
my wife and daughter spoke of the address after hearing it
last evening, and am only more sorry than before that my
unlucky and imperative engagement with the Historical
Society Committee and Board forbade me to enjoy the
splendid eloquence of utterance which they described to me.
GENERAL HANCOCK.
My Day 371
I do not see how you could possibly have treated the theme
which the occasion presented more delicately or more grandly
with a finer touch, or a more complete mastery of all its
proper relations and suggestions.
" It is a great address, and must have a wide and great
effect. I only wish that all the papers would give it in its
full extent.
" I am faithfully and with great regard,
" Yours,
" R. S. STORRS."
This address, which has been handsomely bound
by the Brooklyn committee, was followed by in
vitations all over the country to speak even from
the Gospel Tent. But, unhappily, honor does not
fill the basket, nor warm the body, nor pay the rent,
nor satisfy the tax-gatherer. It is a nice, nice thing
to have, there's no use denying it, but I think
my dear general would have given it all, every bit,
for one good, remunerative law case.
Firmly fortified, as he persuaded himself, against
ever again indulging in the fascinations of politics,
his admiration for his old foe at Sharpsburg drew
him into the Hancock campaign.
General Hancock, the hero of Gettysburg and
Antietam, was worth every effort of every Democrat
in the country. He was a superb man in every re
spect, and we soon became his ardent friends. His
wife was a most dear, beautiful woman, whom I
learned to love. So charming was their simple home
on Governors Island, I could have brought my
self to the point of begging the government that
had taken so much from me to grant me a little
372 My Day
corner to live near them and their two delightful
friends, General James Fry and his wife.
At General Hancock's I spent much time, and
while my general consulted with him on political
matters, Mrs. Hancock and I would, when we could
escape from the crowd, sympathize with each other
as only stricken mothers can sympathize. She had
just lost her beautiful Ada and small indeed
seemed the honors of this world to her.
My general made a fine speech for General Han
cock, which was praised by the press as generously
as the Decoration Day speech. It was understood
that he would be Attorney-General in case of Han
cock's election. We know the result ; and I must
confess that as the election returns were reported
to us, I quite abandoned myself to disappointment.
From my window next morning I could see another
Democratic mourner, and in order to signal to her
my state of mind, I hung a black shawl which I had
on at the moment out of the window. Early on
the day after the election I went with my daughter
Gordon across the ferry to Governor's Island to as
sure myself of the welfare of my friends. It was
a raw day in November, and snow was falling. We
were the only passengers on the boat, with the ex
ception of two serious-looking women who carried
a large paper box between them. " Funeral flowers,"
suggested Gordon. Upon arriving, we walked up
to General Hancock's house, and at the door per
ceived our fellow-passengers had followed us. They
entered with us, and in order to give them the right
of way in case they were come on appointment, Gor-
My Day 373
don and I passed on to the back parlor, leaving
them in the front room. Presently we heard Gen
eral Hancock accost them courteously, whereupon
they arose and explained, with much solemnity, their
errand. " General, for some time past we have been
engaged in preparing a testimonial for you, with the
assistance of your many admirers. Here, sir, is an
autograph quilt/' unfolding an ample and fearful
object, "and upon it there are autographs of our
celebrated men : General Grant is here, Mr. Hayes
is here, Mr. Garfield is here ! " General Hancock
interrupted, " But ladies ! Thanking you for your
kindness, let me inform you I have been defeated
your offering was probably designed for the elected
President." With warm vehemence they both pro
tested : " Oh, no, no, General ! We are Democrats !
No, sir! No Republican is ever going to sleep
under this quilt if we can help it!" "Ah, well,
then," said the general, " I suppose I can do noth
ing more than thank you. Yes, I can call Mrs.
Hancock. She will say how much we appreciate
your kindness."
Passing through the back parlor, he espied us.
" Oh, Mrs. Pryor ! Hang it all! " he ruefully ex
claimed, as he went aloft. When Mrs. Hancock
took charge of the situation, he returned to us.
" And so the general has sent you over to repre
sent him at the funeral ! Tell him I am all right;
but by the bye, how many people came over with
you?"
" Those two," indicating the party now descant
ing to Mrs. Hancock upon the fine collection of
autographs.
374
" Had the result been different, a fleet could not
have brought them all ! However, the canes are
coming in as well as the quilts. We shall not lack
for fire-wood this winter, nor for covering."
Mrs. Hancock was soon relieved of her kind
friends, and both she and the general accompanied
us on a "little walk" proposed by him. "I shall
not be lonely here," he told us ; "a new ship comes
in sight every day ; and I've plenty to do. I must
have all these leaves swept up, too. I'm a happier
man than Garfield this day. Only," he added sadly,
" I cannot reward my friends."
Mrs. Hancock opened the gate of her little garden
and gathered a souvenir posy for Gordon, and so we
parted from the two so great, so dignified in the
hour of defeat.
When I reached home, it was well I had a dou
ceur for my general. He held in his hand the New
Tork Tribune of the day, and pointed an indignant
finger to a communication in which the public was
warned against the incendiary principles of " persons
in the family of a noted Southern lawyer, now resi
dent on Brooklyn Heights, who had, in the moment
of the nation's rejoicing, displayed in a window a
piratical flag, deep-bordered and ominous." My
poor little jest with my neighbor ! My humble
black shawl !
Having had an invitation to lunch with Mrs.
Grant at the Fifth Avenue Hotel next day, I thought
it wise, as well as agreeable, to accept, seeing I had
been published as a suspicious character. I needed
Republican support.
My Day 375
I told Mrs. Grant of my interview with General
Hancock. "Nice fellow! Nice fellow!" she ex
claimed with feeling. " You know I'm a Democrat/'
she said. " What's more, I'm Secesh, particularly
as the Republicans wouldn't nominate Ulysses for
a third term."
" Oh, but," said I, " you mustn't forget the story
of the Fisherman and the Flounder."
She had never heard the story of Dame Isabel,
the fisherman's ambitious wife, and laughed heart
ily over the application to herself. " All the same,"
she protested, " I was not unreasonable I didn't
wish to be Lord of the spheres only wife of the
President of one country."
A short time before this the (Massachusetts)
Springfield Republican was kind enough to lend a
helping hand, in the guise of a kind word to my
dear general, which was quoted by the New York
Times, January 22, 1878. That I should have
preserved it so many years, fully asserts my apprecia
tion of the paper's kindness.
" The New York correspondent of the Springfield (Mas
sachusetts) Republican writes : ' Roger Pryor is pegging
away very quietly in his law office, with increasing business,
though it is not of a very conspicuous character nor very
remunerative, I imagine, for he does a great deal of work
for poor people; but he sticks so closely to his business
that comparatively few people know that he is here, and
one of the most characteristic representatives of the Southern
statesman. He is in constant communication with leading
Southern men, and knows the true inwardness of the South
ern feeling and policy in regard to "scaling " the state debts.
376 My Day
He is an intense anti-rupudiationist, and the very thought
of a thing so dishonorable makes him shiver with rage.
But he is fully persuaded that the Southern people are de
termined to cut down their obligations materially, and throw
overboard the carpet-bag debts altogether, if possible. He
thinks that when the federal government required the
Southern people to repudiate their Confederate war debts, it
taught them a lesson in repudiation which they are now
disposed to better. The public men of the South have not
done their duty in frowning down this feeling and teaching
the people a better policy, to say nothing of honesty. Pryor
is the soul of honor, is chock full of the old-fashioned Vir
ginia chivalric sentiment, and altogether too high-minded
and large-thoughted to mix himself with our local politics.
And all the democrats who know him and are not politi
cians agree that he ought to be in Congress.' '
He was ardently opposed to repudiation, and
has often expressed indignation that the South was
required to repudiate its Confederate war debts.
As to his being in Congress, he was offered a few
years later the nomination by Tammany, which
would have meant sure election but how could he
pay the assessment demanded by that organization ?
Because he could not, he was compelled to decline
the honor of going back to his old seat from. the
state of his adoption.
Mrs. Grant did me the honor to invite me to a
reception she was giving " to meet General and Mrs.
Sheridan." " Of course you'll not go," my hus
band suggested. " How can you meet General
Sheridan ? " " Why not ? " I said. " If he can
stand it, I can."
"A
GENERAL SHERIDAN.
My Day 377
When Mrs. Grant presented me, the little general
he was shorter than I was at first too much
astonished for speech. He had hardly supposed
when he parted from me in the house where, in
order that he might escape annoyance, I had been
kept by him literally in durance vile, that our next
meeting would be in the drawing-rooms of the wife
of his commander. I gave him time to realize all
this, and then I asked him gently, " Do you re
member me, General Sheridan ? "
In a moment both hands grasped mine. "Indeed,
indeed I do, dear lady and I am grateful to Mrs.
Grant for giving me this opportunity to tell you
that no man in this country more cordially rejoices
at General Pryor's success than I do." He then
recalled Lucy, and bantered her on having grown
" taller . than General Sheridan." But the crowd
pressed in, and there was no time for more reminis
cences of those terrible ten days in Petersburg.
Mrs. Grant called to W. W. Story and bade him
take care of me. " She has never seen Ulysse ! "
she exclaimed. " Keep her until six o'clock. He
promised me to come then." Mr. Story, with
his beautiful classic face, nobodycould be as charm
ing, found a great many delightful things to say to
us, and when our hostess claimed us, General Grant
having arrived, he gallantly laid his hand upon his
heart and said : " I shall not forget you ! You and
your daughter are photographed here."
Although I had visited Mrs. Grant, I had never
seen the general. True, I had received many em
phatic messages from him, but he had then re-
378 My Day
quired no answer. I began to wonder what I
should find to say to him to plan something very
gentle and pleasing in return for his fire and brim
stone. I remembered that he had once told one
of my friends that he often regretted he had never
studied medicine instead of military tactics. Clearly,
if it could be brought about by a little skilful man
agement, no more fitting response to the sulphurous
remarks he had made to me at Petersburg could
be imagined than something akin to the healing
art.
" This is Ulysse, Mrs. Pryor," said Mrs. Grant,
and my hour had come. He stood silent, throw
ing, after the manner of men, the burden of conver
sation upon the woman before him. Every idea
forsook me ! I did not, like Heine in the presence
of Goethe, remark upon the excellent flavor of the
plums at Jena, but I found nothing better to say
than " How is it, General, that you permit Mrs.
Grant to call you Ulysse ? "
" Perhaps from imitation," he replied ; " I know
a general whose wife calls him Roger."
He was so simple, so kind, that everything went
easily after this. I could not stifle the recollection of
all I had suffered at his hands, but I had something
for which to thank him. We had been invited to
accompany him in his private car when he went to
Hartford to attend the second marriage of Mr. John
Russell Young. All my life I have been so malapro
pos as to welcome with tears the bride coming to take
the place of a wife whom I had loved, and this time
the tears had been on the wedding day so abundant
My Day 379
I was in no condition to go with General Grant.
My youngest school-girl daughter took my place.
At every stop on the road crowds collected to see
General Grant, and, with my Fanny on his arm, he
went out on the platform to return the greeting.
Now I could tell him of her pride in the occasion.
"The pride was all mine," he said; "an old fellow
with such a beautiful girl on his arm had something
to be proud of."
" There's a very beautiful girl near us," I said to
Mrs. Grant, " the dark-eyed lady in rose moire."
" Why, that's Fred's wife," she answered. " Yes,
she is beautiful, and we are all proud of her ; " add
ing, with a humorous expression, " It has always been
hard for me this admiration of beauty."
cc Do you not care for beauty ? " I asked. " Care
for it ? I worship it ! I used to cry when I was
a little girl because I was so ugly. ' Never mind,
Julia,' my dear mother would say, c you can be my
good little girl.' I used to wish I could ever once
be called her c pretty little girl.' "
But no face as thoroughly kind and good as hers
can ever be plain. After all, is it ever the prettiest
faces that are nearest our hearts ? Having known
Mrs. Grant for many years, I can truly say I have
seen no woman so free from ostentation or affecta
tion. Kindness of heart, genuine, sincere desire to
make others happy, patience in adversity, these are
the traits of mind, manner, and heart that won for her
so many warm friends. No other American woman
has ever been so much feted and honored as she.
Most of us have had our little hour a part of the
380 My Day
world we live in has at one time or another turned
upon us eyes of applauding affection, but she stood
beside her husband at every foreign court in Europe,
presiding on occasions when he held private audience
with the greatest potentates of the world. Nothing
seemed to mar her perfect simplicity her admirable
self-forgetfulness. I was engaged one day in taking
a frugal luncheon tea, toast, a dozen oysters
in my tiny basement dining-room, when Mrs. Grant's
card was handed me.
Running upstairs and saying to my daughter,
"Mrs. Grant must have a cup of tea," I was sur
prised to find the general seated near the door.
After the greeting, he said gravely, " I don't see why
I can't have a cup of tea as well as Mrs. Grant."
" I will send it to you, General ! The doorway
on the stair is too low for you to go down."
"It must be pretty low," he replied; "I've a
mind to try it. I've stooped my head for less."
We divided the dozen oysters among us, brewed
more tea, made more toast and enjoyed the meal
the general inquiring kindly of news from my hus
band, who was in England, having been sent by
the Irish-Americans to see what could be done for
O'Donnell, the Irish prisoner.
After there was no more to be expected at the
lunch table, we adjourned to the library and I pro
duced the met bullets my boys had found at Cot
tage Farm.
He laid it on the palm of his hand and looked
at it long and earnestly.
" See, General," I said, " the bullets are welded
My Day 381
together so as to form a perfect horseshoe a
charm to keep away witches and evil spirits."
But the general was not interested in amulets,
charms, or evil spirits. After regarding it silently
for a moment, he remarked :
" Those are minie balls, shot from rifles of equal
caliber. And they met precisely equidistant to a
hair. This is very interesting, but it is not the only
one in the world. I have seen one other, picked
up at Vicksburg. Where was this found, and when ? "
he asked, as he handed the relic back to me. " At
Petersburg, possibly.'*
"Yes," I answered; "but not when you were
shelling the city. It was picked up on our farm
after the last fight."
He looked at me with a humorous twinkle in his
eye. " Now look here," he said, " don't you go
about telling people I shelled Petersburg."
A short time before his death, just before he was
taken to Mount McGregor, he dictated a note to
me, sending his kind regards to my general, and
saying he remembered with pleasure his talk with
me over a cup of tea.
There is something very touching in all this as I
remember it now his illness so bravely borne.
His death occurred not very long afterward. No
widow ever mourned more tenderly than did Mrs.
Grant. I saw her only once before she went to
sleep beside him in the marble temple on the river
side, and she touched me by her patient demeanor.
I had a friend very close to her in her later days
to whom she loved to talk of her general, when
382 My Day
they met, how he proposed to her. They were
riding together, crossing a rough place in the road.
Her horse stumbled and threw her. The general
caught her in his arms and said he was " glad to safe
guard her then, and would be proud to do so to the
end." She said when he came on his wooing there
were members of her family who looked askance at
the undersized chap. " Nothing of him but eyes
and epaulets," Longstreet was quoted as saying
of him one evening at a tea-and-toast euchre
party. This seems to have been the opinion of
some of Julia Dent's people, but not of her far-
seeing mother, to whom the maiden's dismay was
confided. "Julia, you should marry that young
officer, say what they will about his clumsiness
and awkward ways ! He is far above any of the
young fellows who come here. He will one day be
President of the United States."
My sisters at the South would, in these early days,
have resented these words of appreciation of General
and Mrs. Grant. Not one iota the less did my alle
giance fail to my dear commander in his modest tomb,
guarded perpetually night and day by a son of Vir
ginia, because I could perceive the tender side, the
heroic side, of a foeman worthy of his steel.
CHAPTER XXXVII
IN October, 1883, General Pryor was sent
to England, as counsel to defend Patrick
O'Donnell, who had been indicted for the mur
der of James Carey, and was now imprisoned in
London. Carey had been one of the leaders of the
Irish " Invincibles " in 1881, and was an accomplice
in the assassination of Mr. T. H. Burke and Lord
Frederick Cavendish in Phoenix Park. He was
arrested on January 13, 1883, and turned queen's
evidence. In order to escape the vengeance of the
" Invincibles," he was secretly shipped for the Cape
under the name of " Power." His plan of escape
was discovered, and he was secretly followed by
Patrick O'Donnell, who shot him before the vessel
reached its destination.
The prisoner was an American citizen, and it
was thought proper by some of his personal friends
to have American counsel assist the local lawyers in
his defence. There was no political signification in
General Pryor's being retained. He was aware
that objection would be urged against his appear
ance in an English court. There was no prece
dent for his encouragement. The case of Judah P.
Benjamin did not apply. Mr. Benjamin had been
born a British subject and had " eaten his dinners "
at the Temple. Only by an act of courtesy on the
part of the judge could General Pryor hope for a
383
384 My Day
hearing. He wrote me, en route, on board the Scythia,
October 17 :
" An Irish barrister on board has been my most con
stant companion, a very intelligent gentleman is he,
and I am assured by him that I cannot be admitted to ap
pear in Court, the rule of Court excluding from practice
any but members of the Bar. This does not surprise me.
I can be usefully employed in consultation and suggestion.
I have industriously read in the law of homicide, and on
those topics I consider myself an expert."
Meanwhile the newspapers were interested in the
novel experiment of sending an American lawyer to
defend an American citizen in England, and search
ing for some hidden reason for the selection of General
Pryor. " Simply because of his daring spirit," said
one. " He will speak out as another would hesi
tate to speak." " Not so," said the editor of the
Irish World; "General Pryor was selected on ac
count of his ability as a lawyer. I know of no
man who can better represent the American bar.
O'Donnell is an American citizen, and General
Pryor will defend him as an American citizen." A
would-be wit in England replied, " He was selected
because he was prior to all others take notice
this is registered."
The New York Times, November 8, 1883, reminds
the public that " an English barrister would have no
standing in an American court, except by a stretch
of courtesy which would be rather violent. To
give audience in court to a foreign counsel would
be a great novelty in any country."
My Day 385
The London Times commented on the matter and
said, " It is probable that Mr. Pryor will be permitted
to give the accused man all possible assistance short
of taking a public part in the conduct of the case."
Chief Justice Coleridge, recently returned from this
country, where he had been the recipient of many
kindly courtesies, was at once interested, and took
an early opportunity to consult leading English
jurists regarding certain amendments in the form of
procedure in the courts, the admission of foreign
lawyers being one of the points discussed. A
correspondent of the Brooklyn Eagle visited my
husband in England and wrote to the paper :
" I called on General Pryor this morning. He is snugly
housed at the Craven Hotel in Craven Street, hard by
Charing Cross and within a minute's walk of the American
Exchange. I found him immersed in papers relating to the
case, but with sufficient leisure to greet a fellow-country
man (and an old client en passant) with his customary
courtesy.
"Legally, the general has had a hard time of it here,
of which more anon, but socially he has been the recipi
ent of extraordinary marks of English favor. His romantic
career as a soldier and as a lawyer is known to everybody,
and invitations to club breakfasts and the dinner-tables of
great men have poured in upon him. So far, he has ac
cepted none of these, having been entirely preoccupied by
the preparation of O'Donnell's defence, which, as I under
stand from other sources, is largely General Pryor's. Origi
nally it was understood that the trial should occur in October,
but it has been postponed again and again, and the general's
great regret is that he was not able to get back to vote.
" Speaking to me on this subject to-day, a prominent
2C
386 My Day
member of the English bar said : ' My dear fellow, General
Pryor is not an exception to the rule. He is simply a promi
nent instance of its operation. You may not be aware
that neither a Scotch nor an Irish barrister is allowed to
plead in English courts. If we were to make any excep
tion at all, it would certainly be made in favor of General
Pryor, who is known to and liked by us all.'
u ' But,' I asked, c how about his appearance in court as
a matter of courtesy ? '
" ' There is no such thing possible, and not even the
judge has power to extend it. The Benchers of the Inns
are the authority, and even the objection of a single bar
rister would be fatal.' '
The English papers were, as a class, against his
appearance. The St. James Gazette had long articles
on the subject, in one of which the question is thus
settled :
" The case of American counsel claiming audience in a
criminal trial arousing passionate political interest in cer
tain circles is admirably calculated to demonstrate the ex
cellence of the rule which the Irish-Americans were anxious
to have broken, as they supposed in their interests. The
only motive which O'Donnell could have for wishing (if he
does wish it) to be heard through foreign counsel would be
that that counsel should say or do something which Eng
lish counsel cannot say or do. For, however great General
Pryor's fame may be in his own country, we have no reason
to suppose that he is gifted with eloquence or persuasive
powers so remarkable that he might be relied upon to
move the hearts of an Old Bailey jury impervious to the
tried abilities of Mr. Charles Russell and the earnest flu
ency of Mr. A. M. Sullivan. Let us consider, then, what
it is which these gentlemen could not do, and General
My Day 387
Pryor, if he got the chance, could do. The principal
thing is that he could more or less defy the judge, and
instigate the jury to override the law or take a wrong view
of the evidence."
The Gazette little knew the manner of man under
discussion. " Defy the law," indeed ! He wrote
me October 25 :
" As I have informed you, a rule of the Bar excludes
any but an English barrister from appearing professionally
in the courts. I will not allow a motion to be made that
I be heard in the case, for I do not choose to solicit a
favor, nor to incur the hazard of a rebuff, nor to expose the
American Bar to the incivility which would be involved in
rejecting such an application from one of its members. My
presence, however, is not without good effect, nor have my
services been unimportant. Indeed, I may say to you that
already I have rendered inestimable service to my client."
Meanwhile Sir Charles Russell, afterward Lord
Chief Justice of England, Mr. Sullivan and Mr.
Guy, of the British bar, and Roger A. Pryor, of the
American bar, worked faithfully, earnestly, and zeal
ously, step by step, for the unfortunate prisoner.
O'Donnell was a poor, ignorant man, who could not
write his own name. In this country he had been a
teamster in the Federal army during the Civil War.
For a long time his countryman who had come so
far to help him was not allowed to see him. Finally,
this much was granted and of great comfort to the
doomed man were the sympathetic visits of my
tender-hearted husband. His trial ended as every
body knew it must.
388 My Day
General Pryor felt keenly the embarrassment of
his position, but before he left England nearly every
club was open to him, and many dinners given in
his honor by Lord Russell, members of the bar,
Mr. Justin McCarthy and other literary men in
London.
" At the royal geographical dinner," he writes, u I sat
beside Lord Houghton, and opposite Lord Aberdeen, with
both of whom I had pleasant talk. Other eminent men
were there. Invitations followed which I must decline, in
finitely to my regret, but I cannot neglect the business on
which I came. A dinner is offered me in Dublin. Last
evening, however, I was glad to dine with Charles Russell,
Q.C., and Sunday I drive with him to Richmond. He pays
me every possible attention, and I can see relies upon me
in the conduct of the case. I live as retired as possible. My
clients cannot suspect me of yielding to British blandish
ments ! I have had interesting interviews with my poor
client, in compliance with his urgent entreaty. He was
very grateful to me and cheered by my presence."
He received marked kindness from Dr. Rae, the
Arctic explorer, who had made important discoveries
in King William's Land and found traces of Sir
John Franklin ; also in 1864 had made a telegraphic
survey across the Rocky Mountains. Dr. Rae gave
several delightful dinners to my husband, inviting
him to meet Huxley, Sir John Lubbock, and sundry
notable chemists and inventors. " Come to us Sat
urday at half-past seven," he wrote from Kensington,
" a handsome [sic] should bring you in a little over
half an hour if the beast is good." At Dr. Rae's he
met Mathilde Blind, " a brilliant woman, a Jewess ;
My Day 389
and Justin McCarthy, a shy, silent man, spectacled
and quite like a professor." Dining at the Cafe
Royal, " who should come in and sit opposite to us
but the Baroness Burdett-Coutts and her spouse.
She is surprisingly juvenile in appearance not at all
as she has been represented. Her voice is quite
girlish, and she moves with wonderful agility/' etc.
He also met Miss Shaw, who was conducting a
bevy of American girls for a tour of European
travel. Some contretemps arose which made her
grateful for his conduct and assistance. The par
ticular young lady whom he had the honor of es
corting and assisting was Miss Stanton. It suddenly
occurred to him that this might be the daughter of
his old enemy, Edwin M. Stanton. The young
lady innocently answered his question affirmatively.
She had been the identical baby girl that, eighteen
years before, Stanton had held in his arms as he de
clared, " Pryor shall be hanged ! " My general
might have done several things: he might have left
her alone in a London street to the mercy of ruffians;
he might have used, in a dark corner, the tiny pistol
he carried ; he might have drowned her in the
Thames ; he might have surprised her by increased
devotion and care for her comfort. He chose the
last, heaping coals of fire upon her unconscious
head!
Before he returned he visited places peculiarly in
teresting to him as a scholar, all of which he de
scribed to me charmingly. As far as in him lay he
trod the paths, so sacred to him, once trod by the
lumbering feet of the one Englishman he adores
390 My Day
above all others, Dr. Sam Johnson : sitting at the
desk where he wrote his dictionary and marvelling
at the meanness of the desk, looking out of his win
dows, walking with him and with Boswell along the
familiar streets. He also stood on the spot where
Blackstone delivered his immortal lectures, and on
the very spot where Latimer and Cranmer suffered,
the students at that moment playing near it a vigor
ous game of football, all this, and much more,
so natural in a scholar visiting for the first time the
London of which he knew every spot haunted by
the great spirits of the literary world.
After he returned home, he received a long letter
from Lord Russell, telling him that he (Russell) had
been sharply criticised for the conduct of O'Donnell's
case, and accused of having managed it in a negli
gent and lukewarm manner. He wished his Ameri
can colleague's candid opinion on the subject, and
also requested his photograph, adding, " I am send
ing you mine."
General Pryor answered him cordially and was
glad he could say, " I consider that you defended
O'Donnell with the utmost zeal and enthusiasm,
and with consummate skill ! " It seems the queen's
counsel was sensitive as well as able. He was
afterwards made Lord Chief Justice of England.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE circle that finally gathered around the
fireside in the little library at 157 Willow
Street was long remembered by some of the
men who made it brilliant. John G. Saxe, whom we
had known in Washington, was one of these men.
Thither also came the Southern author, William
Gilmore Simms. I remember one evening spent in
our tiny library with Mr. Simms, John R.Thompson,
and General Charles Jones, when the trio of literary
men told stories, not war stories, ghost stories.
Mr. Thompson recalled a ghost I had known of
myself and feared when a child, the ghost of the
University of Virginia that announced its coming
by a sudden wind bursting open the doors, passed
through the room, and walked off across the lawn to
the mountains. His deep foot-tracks could be dis
cerned in the soft sod, and with snow on the ground
these deep tracks could be seen to grow under his
invisible feet as he strode onward. Well do I re
member nights when this ghost "walked." But
General Jones had a better story. His was a visi
ble ghost, an old lady, whose contested will he was
reading one night, who appeared at the challenged
point, looked at him solemnly, and then vanished !
Mr. Simms positively declined to mention his own
private ghost after these two thrilling visitations.
We had an interesting visit from Percy Greg, son
391
39 2 My Day
of the English author. Mr. Greg brought as a pres
ent to my general the proof-sheets of his father's
" Warnings of Cassandra," in which my husband dis
covered an error ; and according to his lifelong belief
that all errors in the English language are crimes
which must be corrected, he proceeded to enlighten
Mr. Greg. " Your father has made a mistake a
slight one which he can correct in the next edi
tion. He uses the word ( internecine ' where he
clearly means c intestine.' ' Our guest dropped his
under jaw, stared, and reddened. An American cor
recting an Englishman's English ! He had, I know,
respect for my husband's courage, but he had not
expected rebel guns to be turned on him in this
manner.
" This was a length, I trow,
A rebel's daring could not go,"
if I may paraphrase Gilbert in the Bab Ballads !
But we had more eminent guests than these, the
divines of the City of Churches, and her learned
judges. Foremost and most cordial of all were the
old generals of the Grand Army of the Republic :
General Hancock, General James Fry, General
Slocum, General Grant, General Tracy a some
time foe in field and forum ; and later General Sher
man, General Fitz-John Porter, General Butterfield,
and General McClellan were added to our list of
friends.
Among my husband's earliest clients was General
Benjamin F. Butler, who employed him to defend
his son-in-law, Hon. Adelbert Ames, when the
latter was impeached by the state of Mississippi.
My Day 393
In the families of these distinguished men we
soon found friends, and to these were added many
others. Brooklyn was noted for its refined and
cultivated society, and on Brooklyn Heights many
of its most prominent citizens lived, men whose
names are not yet forgotten : Professor and Mrs.
Eaton, our first and dearest friends ; Mr. Abbot
Low, whose splendid monument is the library of
Columbia University, his charming wife and daugh
ters and his accomplished sons, one of whom was
late President of Columbia University and mayor of
New York ; Dr. Henry van Dyke, whose name is
famous in two continents as scholar, writer, and
orator of high distinction ; John Roebling, the brill
iant engineer, architect, and builder of the great
Brooklyn Bridge, whose beautiful wife was sister of
our friend, General Warren ; the Hon. S. B. Chitten-
den and his wife, a grand dame of the old school ;
the family of our minister to the Court of St.
James, Mr. Pierrepont; Mr. and Mrs. Alanson
Trask, foremost in all good works ; Mr. Henry
K. Sheldon, who gave artistic musicals ; Mrs. John
Bullard, the patroness of art and leader in society ;
Mr. and Mrs. Allen, who gave a lovely daughter to
be the wife of Dr. Holbrook Curtis ; Mr. and Mrs.
George L. Nichols, with a most dear and charming
family of sons and daughters ; one known to the
world to-day at home and abroad as Katrina
Trask, the brilliant author, poet, and accomplished
chatelaine; Mrs. Alice Morse Earle, now one of
America's charming writers ; Mrs. Louise Chandler
Moulton ; and Grace Denio Litchfield, then a beautiful
394
young lady, and now a gifted author. These are but a
representative few of the interesting men and women
who were kind enough to visit us. A multitude of
lovely young girls gathered around my school-girl
daughters ; and when all the army of men turned out
on New Year's Day to observe as they did reli
giously the old-time custom of making calls, the
little house on Willow Street showed symptoms
of bursting !
All of these were Northern people, and many of
them from New England, the New England we
had been taught to regard as the stronghold of our
enemies. There was not a Southern-born man or
woman among them. We had always considered
the New Englander upright, narrow, and thorny !
Transplanted to Brooklyn, we found him upright
indeed, but as harmless as a thornless rose.
Many of these delightful people in time crossed
the East River and pitched their tents in New York
and many have crossed the river that flows close
to the feet of all of us ; and so I imagine society in
what is now known as the Borough of Brooklyn has
formed new systems revolving around new suns.
I sometimes read the old names in the society
columns of the Brooklyn journals, and the old
pictures rise before me, delightful and never to be
forgotten.
The time had now come, however, when it was
imperative for General Pryor to live in New York,
the city where he had commenced his work and
had always kept his office. The first of May found
us in a small house on 33 d Street,
My Day 395
A letter written by me in the following August
gives my opinion of New York as a summer resort.
" MY DEAR AGNES :
" The colonel declares he means to bring you to New
York, and wishes me to give you my own impressions of
this place. Well, all I have to say is ' pray that your
flight be not in summer ! ' Anything like the heat and
desolation of this town in summer cannot be imagined.
Everybody leaves it. I am living in a tiny house in the
heart of the city and a very hard heart it is! On one
side of me is the rear of a great hotel, its kitchens and ser
vants' offices overlooking me. Really, I had as soon hear
shrieking shells as the clatter they make with their pots
and pans. Behind me is a sash and blind factory yielding
dust and noise unspeakable. On the other side a dreadful
man has planted a garden, wherein he has spread an awning,
and there he holds his revels his card and wine parties.
Of course I can but listen to him more than half the sti
fling hot nights, but should I remonstrate, it is not improb
able he might inform me that this is a free country, which
I doubt. Lucy and Fanny fortunately are far away in
Virginia, and so I am spared the added discomfort of
suffering through their nerves.
a This town is as completely metamorphosed in summer
as if it had changed places with some struggling, dusty
manufacturing city, building and digging going on
everywhere; ugly dirt-carts, instead of flower-crowned
ladies in landaus, passing through the dusty streets. You
might, perhaps with reason, suggest that I seem to have
leisure, that this is a fine opportunity to read and improve
my mind. Yes, I know, but somehow I have lost all de
sire to improve my mind ! My present inclination is to
gratify the mind I already have, go somewhere, see some
thing, hear some really fine music !
396 My Day
" Here there is nothing to be seen except unhappy fellow-
mortals panting beneath the burden of city existence ; street
arabs making free with the front doorstep and improvising
tables for their greasy luncheons ; pathetic organ-grinders
who lift melancholy eyes for recognition and reward, after
harrowing the soul with despairing strains 'Miserere,'
c Ah, I have sighed to rest me,' and such ; unmuzzled
little animals in mortal terror of the dog-catcher; tired,
patient horses who know not their own strength, and
quietly obey that other creature with so much less power
and so much more selfishness. All this is not cheerful to
the looker-out, and having seen it once, I look no more.
But I have lately made a discovery. My upper-story
window presents an interesting and instructive landscape.
There is a low-roofed stable between the hotel and the
factory. I can look over a great flat tin roof where snowy
garments are always drying, and upon which, like < Little
Dorritt's ' lover, I can gaze ' until I 'most think they
wuz groves.' Moreover, there is a happy woman who
comes up through a trap-door and walks much under the
shadow of those groves. How do I know she is happy?
Partly by the patter of her busy feet, partly by the bit of
song that floats to me c whiles.' But chiefly because I
have actually found out all about her while I have leaned
idly out of my window. First, she is very good this
dweller beneath the flat roof.
" On Sunday evenings she tunes up a little melodeon in
her regions below, and sings straight through the Moody
and Sankey hymn-book. Nor is this all. For a time I
could not discover whether she was wife, maid, or mother,
and I felt much anxious solicitude in her behalf. But lately
she has brought up to the roof in the evenings a small
rocking-chair of the Mayflower pattern, some crochet or tat
ting ; and a great cat with an enormous upright tail has fol
lowed her, and rubbed himself comfortably against her knees.
My Day 397
"She is a blessed little old maid that's just what she
is ! But the cat is not the only ' follower.' A wholesome-
looking Englishman (side-whiskers, fresh complexion, china
aster in buttonhole) comes now and then. The little May
flower chair rocks a bit more nervously, the cat is over
whelmed with surprise by receiving a slight push from the
tidy slipper, the tatting takes on new energy, and I see
well, now, you surely don't expect me to tell you what I
see ? Nothing very dreadful nor altogether unusual in the
sphere of my happy woman and the British coachman, who
has her in his l heye ' and is surely going to have her in his
'ome by and by.
u But when my tired general comes home to me and
keenly scans my face to discover whether I am pining for
the pines or sighing for the sea, I cannot disgrace myself
in his eyes by revealing my low interest in my happy
woman. Least of all reveal my own loneliness ! I show
him the lovely little window-box where I have a climbing
nasturtium, a morning-glory, and a curious strong vine that
has prehensile fingers at the end of every cluster of leaves.
I show him the curious ways of these strong climbers
how the nasturtium has no tendrils, but a great fleshy stalk
to be supported, and so when it grows too tall to stand
alone, it puts forth at intervals a leaf with a mission ; as
soon as this leaf feels the touch of the string, it contracts
and wraps its brittle stalk thrice around it in and out, as
you would wind your ball of silk. And how the great long
feelers of the morning-glory behave just like ourselves.
They look abroad for something to lean upon, waving rest
lessly to and fro. Finding nothing, they deliberately turn
and lean upon themselves !
" My general pities me because the square of blue sky
into which I am always looking is so small. But I tell
him of all the glories and marvels I have seen there, be
tween the high stone dwellings that shut it in : how a rain-
39 8 My Day
bow spanned it once ; how my Lady Moon looks down in
some of her phases and tells me of her hard life of hopeless
bondage while mine is but for a little time ; how the
Pleiades have been seen in my small heaven and bound me
with sweetest influences ; how my friend, the Great Bear,
straddles across for a look at me, and a reminder that he
knows me very well, and knew generations of my fathers
long before the twenty-three generations that I know of
myself.
u And I have still more to tell him of the lovely time I
am having in my room how I have watched a fairy
castle grow against my sky. How I saw at first a derrick
spring aloft, and then many tiny spirits of the air build
away on a square foundation ; how they made port-holes
in the top looking every way for the Mafia or any other
enemy, and over this threw arches and fairy adornment of
cunning work in white marble ; how they threw up a
rocket then and hung out electric lights, and I supposed
their work was over and their airy castle finished, but they
then mounted a great calcium light to let the incoming
ships from foreign lands know our eye is upon them ; how
they built another and still another story to their castle
four in all, and were still building. And I call his attention
to a strange bird coming regularly at the same hour in
the evening, sailing (with c a raucous voice ') across our
dwelling and into my own little plantation in the sky.
He is of the species vulgarly called c Bat ' and so I
named him our Fledermaus. At precisely the same hour
every morning has he come back again, screaming tri
umphantly, or putting on a bold front to account to his
mate in Central Park how he had spent the night in the
Long Island marshes. The first time the flashlight was
kindled in my castle in the air and its searching glance fell
upon the recreant Fledermaus, he wheeled around and made
his circuit in another direction, and we shall hear his rau
cous voice no more !
My Day 399
" Which is additional proof of what we know already :
1 Conscience makes cowards of us all.' Or perhaps it is
only that no self-respecting Fledermaus can be expected to
countenance flashlights at hours when sensitive folk are
coming home in the morning.
" My general listens respectfully while I go through all
this. 'Evidently "stone walls do not a prison make,"' is
his comment. ' Here are you interested in botany, as
tronomy, and in building the Madison Square Garden.'
c Garden ! Do stone walls a garden make ? ' ' Here in
New York they do,' he tells me ; ' a great, hot theatre is to be
called a garden and crowned by Diana of the Ephesians !
St. Gaudens is making the goddess. But you'll not need
gardens or goddesses to make you happy ! Ah ! What a
wonderful woman you are so content, so cheery in spite
of all our privations.' Which shows what poor crea
tures men are, as far as discernment goes, regarding the
ways of women ; for my dear, oh, my dear ! a very
lonely, homesick, heartsick body is
" Your devoted
"SARA A. PRYOR.
" P.S. I am a wretch I know I am to end my letter
with a howl. But an organ-man under my window is
grinding away at ' Home, Sweet Home.' He must be
driven away or I perish! There he goes again 'The
Old Folks at Home ' ! I must put both my sofa pillows
over my ears ! Dearly, S. A. P."
CHAPTER XXXIX
EARLY in the winter I had a visit from a beau
tiful young lady, an orphan daughter of a
rear admiral of whom I had known in former
days. She had found herself temporarily embar
rassed, and had planned an afternoon of music and
reading, was about to send out some cards, and
wished me to be one of her patronesses. I gladly
consented, and on the afternoon designated, went
to her boarding-house near the Park, her landlady
having kindly given her rooms for the entertain
ment. I was early, and as nobody appeared I
pressed the negro boy at the door into my service,
and placed some palms I found at hand, ar
ranged the desk, and awaited the reader and her
audience. Presently Bishop Potter entered, carry
ing the bag which held his robe, on his way, perhaps,
to christen a baby. I knew him " by sight," and
ventured to introduce myself, simply as " Mrs.
Pryor," explaining my presence. He told me of
his interest in the occasion and in the young lady
who was to read, adding, " I know little of her
qualification for her task, but I did know her father."
Presently who should walk in, tall, grim, and unat
tended, but General Sherman ! The bishop in
stantly presented me as Mrs. General Roger A.
Pryor. I was so wrought upon, finding myself in
this awful presence, that I exclaimed, " Oh, General
400
My Day 401
Sherman ! Never did I think I should find myself
in the same boat with you I "
He looked at me gravely a moment, and said :
" Now see here ! I'm not as black as I am painted."
"And I," said the bishop, "am sorry, sorry, to
find the wife of my good friend, the general, willing
to remember things past and gone forever/'
" Well," said General Sherman, " if she doesn't for
bid me the house, I should like to call on General
Pryor ! I'm told they have the cosiest little home
in New York."
He did call, and so did his charming daughter,
Rachel, whom I liked, and hope I made my friend.
As to the " reading " Mrs. Botta, Mrs. Bettner,
the two great ones and my own small self were the
major part of the audience, fit though few, but
I must confess that no occasion could have been to
me fraught with more interest, more significance.
My thoughts rushed back to the time when the man
before me had marched through an unhappy South
ern state without even a wheelbarrow to intercept
his way, when all laws of civilized warfare were sent
to the winds, and the women and children, in a belt
sixty miles wide, were plundered and driven from
their homes ; returning, after he had passed, to weep
over the blackened plains he left behind him. In
his official report of his operations in Georgia he
said : " We consumed the corn and fodder in the
region thirty miles on either side, from Atlanta to
Savannah, also the sweet potatoes, hogs, sheep, and
poultry, and carried off more than ten thousand
horses and mules. I estimated the damage done to
4o2 My Day
the state of Georgia at one hundred millions of dol
lars, at least twenty millions of which inured to our
benefit, and the remainder was simply waste and
destruction/' 1 But the blame for this pillage must
be placed higher than the shoulders of General
Sherman.
On December 18, 1863, Major-general Halleck
thus instructed him : " Should you capture Charles
ton, I hope by some accident the place may be de
stroyed, and if a little salt should be sown on the
site, it might prevent the growth of future crops of
nullification and treason."
Sherman replied December 24, 1863 :
"I will bear in mind your hint as to Charleston, and do
not think c salt ' will be necessary. When I move, the Fif
teenth Corps will be on the right of the right wing, arid
their position will naturally bring them to Charleston first,
and if you have watched the history of that corps, you
will have remarked that they generally do their work pretty
well. The truth is, the whole army is burning with an
insatiable desire to wreak vengeance upon South Carolina.
I almost tremble at her fate, but feel she deserves all that
seems in store."
A solid wall of smoke by day, forty miles wide
and from the horizon to the zenith, gave notice to
the women and children of the fate that was mov
ing on them. All day they watched it all night it
was lit up by forked tongues of flame lighting the
lurid darkness. The next morning it reached them.
Terror borne on the air, fleet as the furies spread out
ahead, and murder, arson, rapine, enveloped them.
1 Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.
MRS. VlNCENZO BOTTA.
My Day 403
But why repeat the story ? This was war, war
that spares not the graybeard, childhood, aged women,
holy nuns nobody ! Not upon one only does the
responsibility for such crimes rest. Nor is it for us
to desire, or mete out, an adequate punishment.
The Great Judge " will repay " - unless, as I
humbly pray. He has forgiven, as we have for
given, and I trust been ourselves forgiven.
No Southerner, however, can wholly forget, as
he stands before the splendid statue made by St.
Gaudens, at what price the honors to this man were
bought. The angel may bear, to some eyes, a palm
of victory, and proclaim, " Fame, Honor, Immortal
ity, to him whom I lead." To the eye of the South
erner the winged figure bears a rod, and the bronze
lips a warning " Beware ! "
Our earliest and most faithful friends in our new
home were Judge Edward Patterson (our first visitor)
and his amiable and gifted family. Much of our
happiness was due to their sympathetic attentions,
at a time when we had few friends.
One of my early friends in New York was Mrs.
Vincenzo Botta, whom I had met at the house of
Mrs. Dix when we were negotiating with Colonel
Mapleson, Patti, and Nicolini. She was then about
sixty-nine years old. She died seven years after she
first came to my little home in 3jd Street, and a
warm friendship grew to full maturity in those few
years. Without beauty she had yet a charming
presence, with no evidences of age, although the
little black lace mantilla she wore over her curls was
her own confession. She was the only woman who
404 My Day
held at the time, or has held since, anything like a
real salon. Nobody was ever known to decline an
invitation to that house. It was one of the large,
old-fashioned houses near Fifth Avenue, with San
Domingo mahogany doors, wide staircase, and four
spacious rooms on each floor. There were tapestries
on the walls, a few good pictures, three busts, one
of Salvini, one of the hostess's husband, the other
her maid, wood fires, and fresh flowers every day.
The gracious white-haired lady at the head of the
house had a charm born of long experience in all
the gentle ministrations of life ; her mind was beauti
fully cultivated, the bluest blood filled her veins ;
but not from her lips did one learn anything of her
distinguished antecedents, although she had been
an author, a sculptor, and poet. She came nearer
to the distinction of holding a salon than any one
who has ever lived in New York. At her receptions
might be found Salvini, Edwin Booth, Modjeska,
Christine Nilsson, and every distinguished author and
diplomat who visited the city. Nobody was ever
hired to entertain her guests they entertained
each other. Sometimes a great singer would volun
teer a song, or a poet or an actor give something
of his art, of course never requested by the hostess.
Sometimes the evening would close with a dance.
One often wondered at the ease with which Mrs.
Botta could gather around her musicians, artists,
actors, authors, men and women of fashion, men
conspicuous in political life, every one who had
in himself some element of originality or genius.
Her salon was not inaptly termed a reproduction of
My Day 465
Lady Blessington's or the Duchess of Sutherland's.
A card to her conversazione, as she preferred to term
it, was, as I have said, eagerly sought, and never de
clined. Her afternoon teas were famous ; but her
dinners! I do not mean the terrapin and wines
the table-talk in this mansion was the attraction.
Everybody came away not only charmed, but en
couraged ; thinking better of himself, and by conse
quence better of his fellow-creatures.
Dinners like these are constantly given to-day all
over the country. Perhaps our best and highest
people those that constitute the honor and pride
of our social life, and redeem our manners from the
criticism to which they are subjected are the
people who manage never to appear in the papers.
They give dinners of great taste and beauty that
are never described. At their tables are gathered
the wit and wisdom of many lands, and whatever
accessories can be commanded by taste and wealth.
These stars of the social firmament revolve in a
sphere of their own, around no wealthy or titled
sun, but around each other. Vitalized by one
powerful magnet, they at once, like iron filings, attract
each other.
I had known nothing of Mrs. Botta's prestige nor
of her friendship with Emerson, Carlyle, Froude,
Fanny Kemble, Frederika Bremer, Daniel Webster,
Charles O'Connor, Fitz-Greene Halleck, even Louis
Kossuth, when she first visited me, introducing her
self; nor did she ever allude to any one or anything
(as so many do !) to impress me with her claims to
my consideration. A most fascinating talker herself,
406 My Day
she proceeded simply to draw me on gently to talk
of myself, and no magnet can draw like human
sympathy. I once found myself telling her some
thing of my experience in time of war, encouraged
by her splendid eyes fixed upon me in rapt attention.
Presently their light was veiled in tears, and ris
ing from her seat she took me in outstretched arms
and kissed me. No wonder that the soul of Jona
than was knit to the soul of David from that hour.
She could even sympathize with so small a matter
as my dolors anent the hot summer I had passed
" Yes, yes," she said, " I know all about it." She
had written a dismal catalogue of the miseries of the
dog-days, of which I remember the concluding
lines :
" When Phoebus and Fahrenheit start a rampage
Then there's heat, no thoughts of a blizzard assuage ;
And when ' General Humidity ' joins in the tilt
Like plucked flowers of the field the poor mortal must wilt,
Till he cries like the wit, in disconsolate tones,
To take off his flesh and sit in his bones !
But for all that, my dear, to make myself clear,
Give me New York for nine months of the year
With all its shortcomings there's no place so dear !
With its life and its rush, what it does and has done,
There's no city like it under the sun."
In which I have come to agree with her.
In her drawing-rooms, beautiful by specimens of
her own work, for she was a sculptor and exqui
site needlewoman as well as poet and graceful
hostess, I met many of the literary lights of the
day, as well as society women of New York. "I
shall give a reception to Miss Murfree," she once
My Day 407
told me. " Why ? " I asked. " Is she one of your
great people ? " " Do you remember," said Mrs.
Botta, with a twinkling eye, " c Dorinda Cayce ' ? " I
remembered Dorinda Cayce in the " Prophet of the
Great Smoky Mountain/' who had gone through
storms of snow and tempest to win pardon for her
lover in prison, only to discover at the end he was
but an ordinary, selfish mortal. There was nothing
so remarkable about that, I submitted. " Ah ! but
don't you remember how she explained the wonder
ful fact that, with all his faults, she had loved him
and had been ready to die for him ? f No no '
said Dorinda, c I never loved you! ' I loved what I
thunk you was/ Then and there," said Mrs. Botta,
" she reached deep down into the mysteries of a
woman's heart. We love what we think they are !
I shall give her a reception."
I had met William Cullen Bryant five or six years
before, not long before he died (I have seen so
many setting suns !), and Mrs. Botta, who had
known him well, was interested in my account of
an interview with him. We had come over from
Brooklyn to attend a reception which the publisher
of Johnson's Encyclopaedia gave to his contribu
tors. One of his articles had been written by my
husband. At this reception I also met Bayard
Taylor, Clarence Stedman, and others, with whose
talents in invective against the South I was familiar.
But I bore them no malice. I was especially anx
ious to speak with the old poet, and sought an in
troduction to him. When the crowd passed on to
the refreshment rooms, I observed him standing
4-o8 My Day
alone, leaning upon the grand piano, and I ventured
to join him. Supper versus William Cullen Bryant!
There could be but one conclusion. I made bold
to hope he was well, as I stood almost spellbound
before his fine gray head. I found myself hoping
something more. I was willing he should hate
treason with all his heart but I did wish he could
ever so little like the traitor !
" Oh, yes," he replied to my question, " I am
perfectly well. But I find I am growing old."
" I warrant," said I, " you could struggle for your
oysters with the best of them."
" True," he replied, " but that is not the trouble.
I forget people's names."
" A poet can afford to forget. Only politicians
need be careful."
" Nobody can afford to be unkind," answered the
old poet.
" Names are small matters," I suggested. " If
you remember faces, you are all right."
" Oh, no," said he, " you must remember names.
I did not arrange this drama in which we are all
acting, but I know a part of my role is to remember
names. If I am presented to Mr. Smith, and I meet
him next day in Broadway, I think it was intended
I should say c Good morning, Mr. Smith/ Other
wise, why was I presented to him ? If I have for
gotten his name, I have forgotten my part, and lose
the only opportunity that will ever be given me in
this world of being polite to Mr. Smith."
Mrs. Botta delighted in such incidents as this.
I wish she could have laughed with me over an
My Day 409
attempt my Gordon (Mrs. Henry Rice) made to
introduce Mr. Bryant to a class of poor white boys
she was teaching at a night-school in her home on
a great tobacco plantation in Virginia. She had
taught them to read and write, some arithmetic and
geography, even some Latin ; and was minded to
awaken the aesthetic instincts which she believed
must exist in the poor fellows. She read them
Bryant's " Ode to a Waterfowl.'' "Now, boys," she
said eagerly, "tell me how you would feel if you had
seen this." There was- dead silence. Appealing to
the most hopeful of her sons of toil, she received an
enlightening response, "I wouldn't think nuthin'."
" What would you say ? " she persisted. " Wall
I reckon I'd say, ' Thar goes a duck ! '
Nobody was kinder to us than Edmund Clarence
Stedman. On Tuesdays and Fridays one might
always find a welcome no cards were issued and
a small, choice company of literary men and women
in his drawing-rooms. Mr. Stedman was the soul
of kindness. His " friends from the Old Dominion "
were just as welcome as if he had never written
" Abraham Lincoln, give us a MAN " to crush out
our " rebellion." No man could have been more
generous to authors, himself so polished and grace
ful a writer. I remember in my own first timid
venture I had written something for the Cosmopoli
tan Magazine that he made haste to welcome me,
to say my essay was " charmingly written," and to
add, " I have always observed that whatever a lady
chooses to write has something, an air, that the
rest of us can never attain," -which goes to prove
410 My Day
the chivalry, if not the perception, of dear Mr. Sted-
man.
In the eighties there were other houses where
purely literary receptions were held weekly : notably
at President Barnard's, also at Mrs. Barrow's, affec
tionately known by her own nom de 'plume ', "Aunt
Fanny," and thus recorded to-day in encyclopaedias
of literature. Mrs. Andros B. Stone also gathered
the elect in her drawing-rooms. There I saw again
the gentle Madame Modjeska. There I met Henry
M. Stanley, thronged with admirers, and with great
drops of perspiration on his heated brow, declining
to say to me " nay " when I asked if this were not
worse than the jungles of Africa !
What a life he had led, to be sure ! We first
heard of him as a soldier in the Confederate army ;
then in the Union navy. He represented " the
Blue and the Gray " he had worn them both.
We all know of his search for Dr. Livingstone, of his
subsequent marches through the Dark Continent;
of his perils by land, perils by sea, courage and for
titude. And now here he was quite like other
people in an evening coat with a gardenia in his
button-hole, and with an English bride all in white
and gold, and still young enough to fill the measure
of his glory with more adventures.
I was early elected a member of the Wednesday
Afternoon Club, proposed by Mrs. Botta, whose first
able contribution a review of Matthew Arnold's
essay, " Civilization in the United States " enlight
ened me as to what might be expected of me when
my turn came to provide a paper for discussion.
My Day 411
I think I disappointed Mrs. Botta by persistently
" begging off" rrom this duty implied by my con
sent to become a member of the club, which included
Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, Mrs. R. W. Gilder, Mrs.
Almon Goodwin, Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, Miss
Kate Field, Mrs. George Haven Putnam, and other
literary women. Mrs. John Sherwood was one of
our grande dames, altogether a very notable person
age in her prime, a much-travelled lady, the friend
of Lord Houghton, Daniel Webster, and other great
lights. She could always gather a large and admir
ing audience at her literary conferences. She lived
to an old age, and never ceased to be "a personage "
a very fine type of a high-born, high-bred, intel
lectual woman. These reunions, which led society
in the eighties, afforded opportunity for the man or
woman of versatile talent. Anybody can harangue
or read an essay or exploit a special fad or hobby.
Anybody can chatter, but how many of us can pass
a thought "like a bit of flame " from one to another ;
or turn, like a many-faceted gem, a scintillating
flash in every direction ? This is possible ! This
made the charm of the French salon, and makes the
charm to-day of more than one little drawing-room
that I wot of, which has never been described in the
society columns of the newspapers.
I must not dare put myself on record as enjoying
only "high thinking." The great Dr. Johnson liked
gossip, so did Madame de Sevigne, so did Greville,
and hundreds of other delightful people. So do I !
But I draw a line at some modern gossip, whether
Mrs. Claggett's domestic unhappiness will reach the
4*2 My Day
climax of a divorce, whether she will better herself
in her next venture ; whether Mrs. Billion will really
have any difficulty in getting into society, or what
on earth Lord Frederick could see in that pug-nosed
Peggy Rustic, who hasn't even the saving grace of
a little money. I am afraid of personalities, and yet
we cannot always discuss politics and religion. Men
have been burnt at the stake for talking politics and
religion !
I have never sympathized in the wholesale abuse
of New York society and by this much-used word
I mean the society defined by Noah Webster as
" that class in any community which gives and re
ceives entertainments." Necessarily a city like New
York must be made up of many contrasting elements
but I believe the true leaven of good society is
always here, and will in the end inevitably prevail to
the leavening of the whole. One cannot fail to ob
serve in the modern novels that profess to expose it sit
uations that could, under no circumstances, ever have
occurred in decent society. The facility with which
men and women of humble antecedents reach high
position here is easily explained. Their early disad
vantages have taught them enterprise, to look out for
their own advantage and seize every opportunity.
They have ambition. Hence they are " climbers."
The lowest rung in the ladder successfully reached,
there is foothold for the next. They are not sensi
tive. " Snubbed ?" said one. " Of course ! Isn't
everybody snubbed?" It is not wonderful that
New York receives them. Their wits are sharpened.
They are very agreeable, very supple, very adaptable.
My Day 413
Au reste ! Well, they learn. There are books on
" Manners and Social Usages " to be had for a dime
or two. There is one called "The Gentleman
which was popular in the nineties. To have read
Mr. Howells on this book is to long to quote him.
" We have lately seen how damaging Mr. McAllister
could make himself to the best society of New York
by his devout portrayal of it, and now another
devotee of fashion is trying to play the iconoclast
with the ideal of gentleman.
" Do read c Gentleman/ It is the most delicious
bit of ridiculous flunkyism that has appeared yet
always excepting the great success in that line.
After instructing the proposed gentleman about his
cravats and pocket-handkerchief, and not to cross
his legs or wink or pick his teeth, the author con
cludes : c In making an offer of marriage, when the
lady replies affirmatively, immediately clasp her in
your arms' ! "
But after all said and done against society, I have
always liked it. I have not the least wish to turn
reformer. It will work out its own salvation as to
important characteristics, and we can afford to laugh
at its ridiculous ways. We know it is " too bad for
blessing," but at the same time " it is too good for
banning."
" I overheard Jove," said Silenus, " talking of
destroying the earth ; he said he had failed ; they
were all rogues and vixens, going from bad to worse.
Minerva said she hoped not ; they were only ridicu
lous little creatures with this odd circumstance : if
you called them bad, they would appear bad; if good,
414 My Day
they would appear so ; and there was no one person
among them who would not puzzle her owl much
more all Olympus to know whether it was funda
mentally good or bad." It all depends upon the
?oint of view, and in a difference of opinion between
ove and Minerva I do not hesitate.
But if I may be allowed one more word, I
think the trouble about our New York society is
that we have too much of it. We have no leisure
to select. And then we seem to be always en repre
sentation as Senior said of an American girl. We
are consumed with a desire to make an impression,
that deadly foe to good manners, or else we
wrap ourselves in reserve like a garment. Of the
two I think I prefer the former anything but the
icy dulness of the intense inane.
To tell the truth, we are heavy we Americans.
We cannot pass quickly, " like a bit of flame," from
one thing to another. We are rarely gracious
enough to wish to please, but if we do, our com
pliments are not an ethereal touch, but flattery
broadly laid on with spade and trowel. Chester
field says, " Human nature is the same all over the
world." That is, doubtless, true, we hear it
quoted often enough, but there is a great deal
more of it in some places than in others. There is
an enormous quantity of human nature in New York.
After all, it is not as subtle as we imagine. Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu declares that in all her
life she had seen but two species of human beings
men and women! We cannot agree with her, we
have seen others, but we have faith that all things
My Day 415
are working together for good, and good only, in our
social life, indications to the contrary, reports to the
contrary, notwithstanding.
Our little house on 33d Street was the theatre
of many pleasant events. There I found my friends
on my Thursdays at home. There my daughter
Lucy was married. Among her wedding presents
was an interesting bit of embroidery from the wife
of our Minister to Turkey, S. S. Cox. Mr. Cox
had sent it with a letter, at the conclusion of which
he explained, remembering my supposed interest
in Southern dialect, "I am sorry to be so stupid,
but the truth is I'm mighty tired ! I have been
toting Americans over Constantinople all day."
I answered, requesting a key to the embroidery,
and added, " I am sorry to find that the onerous
duties of our Minister to the Ottoman Empire in
clude the bearing upon his back or in his arms the
bodies of visiting Americans, etc. ( c Tote,' an old
English word now obsolete, is still used by Southern
negroes for bearing a burden, not for conducting or
escorting.) " Here is Mr. Cox's reply :
" U. S. LEGATION, CONSTANTINOPLE,
"May 22, 1886.
" MY DEAR MRS. PRYOR :
" If your daughter was half as much pleased with my
wife's little gift as your letter made me, then the entente
cordlale between the Bosphorus and the Hudson is firmly es
tablished. These little ministrations are very little 5 but
416 My Day
" < To the God that maketh all
There is no great there is no small. '
Some Brahmin said that ! I think it is one of Emerson's
petty larcenies from the Orient ; but it is ever so true.
Now
" ' On what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things,'
as the Methodists used to sing ! Here, on my little word
' tote,' you hang a social and philological disquisition ! I
will not discuss the word in its Africanese dialect ; but I
take the noble red man whose totem is his household
god ; and in this sense, in this connection, let the doyley
be revered, as your husband would say, totus atque rotundus.
" The bit of Oriental work with its cabalistic characters
bears the Sultan's monogram. It has a story, too this
monogram. It is said to be seen in blood in one of the
temples of Stamboul, St. Sophia, on a column so high up
that a man of my size can't see it. It is said that the
blood came from the hand of Mahomet II when he rode
into the church. It is shaped like a hand, you may see.
Another tale not so harrowing : It is that Amurath, when
he made the first treaty with a Christian power, a small
republic of Ragusa, lost his temper and dipped his five
fingers in ink, and thus made his mark on the parchment.
This is the tongbra, or seal. The present Sultan has added
a flower to his handicraft.
"All this goes on the supposition that the embroidery
sent Miss Lucy has the cipher on it, but as Mrs. Cox is
out bazaaring, or shopping, I must guess at it.
" All I can add is to express my regards for your husband,
who is my beau ideal in many ways. Doubtless he is your
' bold idol,' as a young lady said. Tell him when the time
comes, to warm that place for me ! I will go back to Con-
My Day 417
gress and die in harness. I don't want to die here, in
fact I don't want to die at all as yet, for life has so much
blessing and beauty in spring !
" Mrs. Cox and I go this evening to dine at the palace of
Zildez the pleasure-house of the Sultan. It is not mu
tual that I must take my Only One to see him and I can't
see any one of his ten thousand and altogether lovely.
" Yours faithfully,
"S. S. Cox."
2E
CHAPTER XL
I HAVE always thought that New York's Cen
tennial celebration in 1889 was largely responsi
ble for the patriotic societies of men and women
which have swept the country.
Everybody was willing at the time of the celebra
tion to sit for two entire days on rude seats under
the April sun while the evidences of the power and
achievements of our great country passed in review
before us.
We remember the military pomp of the first day,
the dignified carriage of the governors of our United
States as they bared their heads in gracious acknowl
edgment of the cheers of the people, the triumphant
blare of trumpets, the stirring strains of martial
music, the glitter of bayonets, the long, living line,
which was only a small part of the nation's bulwark
against its possible foes.
Then the schools and colleges, then the gorgeous
civic parade and the illustrations and representatives
of the trades, occupations, and nationalities that have
found a home in our broad land.
All this passed before us and is but dimly remem
bered. No permanent impression was made by the
great display. Little remains except the recollection
that there were millions and millions of people lining
our pavements, that the show was hardly adequate
to the expectation of these people, that it was a time
of many mistakes and much discomfort.
418
My Day 419
But this pageant was not all of the Centennial.
A number of men of taste and feeling had conceived
the happy idea of collecting revolutionary relics,
papers, and portraits, and exhibiting them in the
Metropolitan Opera House.
We expected to be interested in these, and some
of us gave time and thought to the task of making
the collection as choice as possible. But we were
unprepared for the effect of the exhibition upon the
minds of the beholders. We filed along the gal
leries of the Metropolitan Opera House and mused
over the papers of " The Cincinnati " ; the books,
few and well worn ; pocket dictionaries with book
plates, candlesticks that had held the tallow dips in
difficult times ; silver caddies that had done duty in
the " tea-cup times " ; pewter platters that had served
many a frugal meal at Valley Forge ; the curtains
that had shaded the bed of Lafayette ; the piano-
cover embroidered by sweet Nellie Custis ; pathetic
empty garments, the silken coat of George Washing
ton, the brown silk gown of Martha Washington.
We remembered at what price the glories of the
preceding days had been purchased. We lived over
the early times of anxiety, privation, and danger.
Raising our eyes to the walls, we encountered the
pictured eyes of the men and women whose spirit,
behind our little army, had compelled events and
given dignity and importance to our Revolutionary
history.
It was difficult to associate thought, learning,
courage, foresight, and statesmanship with those
placid faces. Artists of that day presented only the
42O My Day
calm, impassive features of their sitters. There was
George Washington, serene in every pose, dress, and
age ; Alexander Hamilton, Richard Henry Lee,
keen-eyed Patrick Henry, Martha Washington,
Elizabeth Washington, fair Nelly Custis, dark-eyed
Frances Bland, whose patriot brother fills a lost grave
in Trinity churchyard. These and scores of others
looked down upon us from the walls of our great
opera-house.
And yet it is this, and this only, of all the pageant
that made a living and lasting impression upon the
minds of the people. Pondering upon the associa
tions connected with these relics and portraits of the
Revolutionary time, and rereading. the histories con
nected with them, an impulse was given which is now
thrilling our people to the extremest bounds of our
country, and which will result in our taking proper
steps to acquire and preserve all the localities con
nected with the struggle for our independence.
I was keenly interested in the celebration. I knew
the president, Mr. Henry Marquand, and took
upon myself the duty of collecting portraits from
Virginia of Patrick Henry, members of the
Washington family, Nelly Custis, Frances Bland,
and others. I cherish an engraved resolution of
thanks adopted by the committee, stating that such
thanks were "especially due" for my "valuable co
operation in the work of the Loan Exhibition of
portraits."
The influence of the feeling inspired at the time of
the Centennial at once expressed itself in the formation
of the societies of patriotic men and women now so
My Day 421
numerous in this country. I assisted in the founda
tion of these societies the Preservation of the Vir
ginia Antiquities, the association owning Jamestown;
the Mary Washington Memorial Association; the
Daughters of the American Revolution; and the Na
tional Society of the Colonial Dames of America.
The duty of organizing a chapter of the Daughters
of the American Revolution was assigned to me,
and I named it "The New York City Chapter."
Mrs. Vincenzo Botta was my first member, and
Mrs. Martha Lamb, honorary life member. I was
much in conference with Mrs. Martha Lamb when
she was helping to organize the Colonial Dames
and I was early, heart and soul, interested in the
Daughters of the American Revolution. Of James
town and the noble society which owns it every
body knows. I managed a great ball at the White
Sulphur Springs to help build a monument over
Mary Washington's grave. The governors of New
York and of Virginia each sent flags from the
state of my birth and the state of my adoption.
General Lee conducted the Mary Washington of
the hour. The Virginia beauties wore their great
grandmother's gowns of quilted petticoat and bro
cade, and I received a large sum for the monument.
For the Mary Washington monument Mrs.
Charles Avery Doremus, with Mrs. Wilbur Blood-
good, gave a beautiful play, for which the Secretary
of the Navy lent me colors enough to drape the
entire house. I cherish the permit I received to
use these colors. It was signed " George Dewey" !
Patti, the guest of Mrs. Ogden Doremus, occupied
422 My Day
one of the boxes. The orchestra played <( Home,
Sweet Home," and she rose and bowed as only
Patti can bow. I talked with her between acts and
told her what a naughty, candy-loving little ten-year-
old maid she had been when she would stay in
Petersburg with Ellen Glasgow's mother, and Stra-
kosch had to pay her to sing with a hatful of candy !
All this she received with her own merry, rippling
laughter. It was a kind deed the great singer to
give an afternoon of her time to encourage me in
my enterprise, and charm my amiable amateurs by
her hearty applause. Authorized by my chief, the
widow of Chief Justice Waite, I made the Princess
Eulalia and the Duchess of Veragua members of
the Mary Washington Memorial Association, and
conferred upon them the Golden Star of the order.
This was a pleasant souvenir for them of the Co
lumbian Exposition.
The societies based upon Colonial and Revolu
tionary descent deprecate the idea that anything
tending to the creation of an aristocracy is intended
by their action, that they attach any other signifi
cance to the accident of birth than the presump
tion that it insures interest and perpetuity ; that
there is any motive underlying their movement less
noble than the pure principle of patriotism. Amer
icans, notwithstanding their adulation of foreign
titles, have been until lately somewhat sensitive lest
they should be thought to assume a right to aristoc
racy. When Bishop Meade was collecting material
for his " History of Old Families and Churches in
Virginia," he found the owners of hereditary arms
My Day 423
and crests actually ashamed to confess the fact !
They felt with Napoleon a desire to create rather
than inherit nobility.
The spirit of the times now seems to tend to the
American aristocracy of birth, but on the republican
foundation of merit, character and service done ;
not an aristocracy which assumes the right to social
rule because of birth, but an aristocracy which rec
ognizes birth as a bond and an obligation. " There
can be," said Bishop Potter, " only one true aristoc
racy in all the world that of character enriched by
learning."
It is interesting to observe the laws that govern
enthusiasm. It is like " the wind that bloweth where
it listeth " and no man can discover its source.
Once in a hundred years a great wave of patriotic
ardor has surged over this continent. Nathaniel
Bacon lived a hundred years too soon when he
struck the first blow against the tyranny of England.
A hundred years later his spirit possessed our revo
lutionary fathers. Another hundred years passed,
and the whole country responded to a similar in
stinct of patriotism. It is sure to go on and on,
and be renewed and invigorated at every centennial
celebration ; and who will be able to number the
ranks, or estimate the strength or compute the
riches, or rightly value the influence of the sons
and daughters of the American Revolution ?
In addition to this and other patriotic societies, a
very important national society was formed of the
Colonial Dames of America, in which I was inter
ested. No state leads in this association all are
424 My Day
upon an equal footing. The applicant cannot apply,
paradoxical as this appears ! Her own place in
the world, however noble her lineage, must also be
considered. She must be gentle of manner as well
as gentle of blood.
It is distinctly understood that this society is a
firm, though silent, protest against that aristocracy
which considers itself best because it is highest on
the tax list and bank list. There is not the remot
est suggestion of an aggressive spirit, but the steady
trend is against plutocracy, arrogance, and that im
pertinent assumption of place notable in this country
in those who have no foundation for pride beneath
the surface of the earth, and no aspiration above it.
One of the sure prophecies of our future pros
perity and honor may be found in the number and
importance of the patriotic societies of women.
For, however individuals may sully them by per
sonal pride and ambition, or restrict them by a
spirit of exclusiveness antagonistic to the fundamen
tal principles upon which they are based, their very
existence proves the decided reaction from certain
grave evils which are well known and which cer
tainly will be, unchecked, a source of peril to our
beloved country.
I believe in the true-hearted American woman. I
have known her in every phase of human experience :
in poverty, in suffering, in disaster, in prosperity.
I proudly rank myself beside her ! Whatever fickle
fashion or wayward fancy may decree for her, I
know if there be one passionate desire above all
others which inspires her heart, it is to leave this
My Day 425
world better and happier for her having been born
into it, to become herself a bright exemplar of the
beauty of goodness, so that all may be won by the
loveliness of lovely lives ; to let the whole trend of
her life be forward, not backward ; upward, not
downward; to borrow from the fires of the heroic past
to kindle the fires of the future ; to preserve to that
end the memory of the deeds of those whose lives
have set them apart in the history of our country.
CHAPTER XLI
IN the summer of 1888 yellow fever appeared in
Florida and raged with peculiar violence in
Jacksonville. Early in September I received
a letter inviting me to meet a number of ladies at
rooms on Broadway to organize a committee for the
relief of the Jacksonville sufferers. Mrs. Stedman
(wife of the poet) was with me at the time I received
the letter, and she agreed with me that it would be
a most beautiful thing for the New York women to
send substantial relief to their stricken sisters in
Florida. So, on the day and hour appointed, Mrs.
Stedman accompanied me to the place designated.
We found ourselves in the presence of a large room
ful of ladies neither of us had ever before seen. I
was made chairman by acclamation, and a Mrs.
Manton secretary.
I had never presided at a meeting, but I did my
best. I invited an expression of the views of those
before me as to the wisest schemes for the benevo
lent work. A great many suggestions were offered
of a totally unpractical nature, and I finally asked
for an adjournment, to meet two days from the pres
ent, and requested my " committee " to consider the
matter, confer with their friends, and give me the
opportunity to seek advice from mine. Mrs. Sted
man seemed much discouraged, as we walked home
together. She felt sure nothing would result from
426
My Day 427
this experiment; and besides, as Mayor Hewitt was
engaged in collecting funds for the relief of Jackson
ville, perhaps all good citizens should send their
offerings to him. I intended at the next meeting
to follow up her suggestions, but only half a dozen
ladies appeared. I represented to them that we
must have money at once to pay for our service in
future and a small debt already incurred, and we
then again adjourned. In the vestibule an army of
eager newspaper reporters awaited us, in whose
hands I left my friends, having nothing myself to
communicate. Next morning every paper in New
York announced the interesting fact that Mrs. Roger
A. Pryor was president of " The Ladies' Jackson
ville Relief Society," that names well known in so
cial and literary circles were associated with hers,
and donations of clothing, food, and money were
solicited ! Of course the press sent me many re
porters, and I found myself suddenly invested with
importance and armed with authority. I went joy
fully to meet my appointment for another meeting,
and found a room, full indeed but of empty chairs !
Not a soul came ! I waited throughout the hour
alone. At the end of it a message was sent in to
me from the reporters without. What had we done ?
What should they say in the next morning's issue
of the Herald, the World, the Sun, the Tribune?
Sorely perplexed, I answered : " Tell the gentlemen
we are sitting with closed doors. I shall have noth
ing to report for several days."
I suppose no woman in all New York was ever
in a more embarrassing situation. Here was I ad-
428 My Day
vertised as president of a society engaged in a great
benevolent enterprise, and the society had simply
melted away, disappeared, left no trace, not even a
name and address ! What would New York think
of me ? I keenly felt the absurdity of my position,
but superior to every personal annoyance was my
own disappointment. An opportunity to work effec
tively for the stricken people of Florida had been
suddenly snatched from me. A friend in Jackson
ville, having heard of the movement, had written :
" I have been prostrated by yellow fever, and am unable
to carry out the plans I had made with Bishop Weed for
aid for the sick and friendless children here, and the bishop's
days are rilled with the most pressing duties. Along this
pathway through the valley of the shadow of death there
are many little children whose pathetic condition touches
the chords of our tenderest sympathies. But our hands
hang limp and helpless, and so we hold them out to you."
I found myself consumed with longing to help
them. I felt then as I felt afterward for the or
phans of Galveston that I could almost consent
to give my own life if I could but save theirs.
These were the dreams of the night, and with the
dawn I had resolved to be " obedient to the heavenly
vision." Before ten o'clock I sent telegrams to
Mrs. Vincenzo Botta, Mrs. Wm. C. Whitney, Miss
Rose Elizabeth Cleveland, Mrs. Frederic Coudert,
Mrs. Judge Brady, Mrs. Whitelaw Reid, Mrs. Levi
P. Morton, Mrs. Don Dickinson, Mrs. William C.
Rives, Mrs. William Astor, and Mrs. Martha Lamb.
Would they join me in a gift from New York women
to Jacksonville ?
My Day 429
Every one responded, " Yes, gladly, if you will
manage it." Mrs. Astor, Mrs. Reid, and Mrs.
Coudert sent money a goodly sum to start my
work.
Here I was, then, with a splendid following le
premier fas? Where could I commence? Surely
not by begging money that I would never do.
By s,ome means we must earn it. Just then I saw
that Mr. Frohman had offered a matinee for the
Mayor's Relief Fund. I communicated with Mr.
Frohman, asking him to beg the mayor to let my
fine committee have this matinee with which to in
augurate our work. His Honor evidently regarded
the proposition as indicative of nerve, needing repres
sion. Mr. Frohman quoted him as surprised, and
quite decided : " Mr. Hewitt says he thought every
body knew he needed all the money he could get."
He had only that one matinee. Before night I
had telegraphed every reputable theatre and concert-
hall in the city, and secured nine I Thoroughly
upon my mettle, I went to work. My support was
all out of town except Mrs. Botta and Mrs. Fanny
Barrow. We were a committee of three for several
weeks, but we diligently increased our strength by
letters and telegrams. Mr. Aronson, of the Casino,
fixed upon September 27 for his votive matinee, and
Mr. John McCaull, who had Wallack's Theatre,
selected the same day. " Never mind, madam,"
said Mr. Aronson ; " I'll turn away enough people
from my doors to fill Wallack's." " Rest assured,
madam," said Mr. McCaull, " I'll turn away enough
people from Wallack's to fill the Casino." So I had
43 My Day
two great matinees on my hands fixed for the
same day, the same hour.
I knew it would be vital to my interests to have
these initial entertainments successful. I busied my
brain with schemes which I cunningly revealed to
my friends among the merchants. I wanted satin
banners painted with palms and orange-blossoms
for Mr. Aronson and Mr. McCaull. I wanted
beautiful satin programmes for every man, woman,
and child who played for me, and for all my patron
esses. I craved flowers galore. I longed for fine
stationery, white wax, and a seal. I obtained all
these things. So many flowers were sent that bas
kets and bouquets were presented to everybody on
the stage. The actors caught the enthusiasm. Mr.
Solomon, who sang the topical song at the Casino,
introduced happy, appropriate lines. " Aunt Louisa
Eldridge " opened a flower sale in the foyer, and
made a large sum for the charity. Satin souvenirs
were given to everybody with the " Compliments
of the Ladies' Jacksonville Relief Society." Every
note (a personal one written to each performer) was
sealed with white wax and a seal made expressly for
me. Little Fanny Rice was bewitching in Nadjy
singing the pretty Mignon song which is borrowed
in the play. At Wallack's there was a splendid pro
gramme, in which many stars participated Kyrle
Bellew, and others, and a wonderfully funny balcony
scene from cc Romeo and Juliet" De Wolf Hopper
the Juliet, Jefferson De Angelis the nurse, and Mar
shall Wilder, Romeo !
When it was all over, there was one very tired
My Day 431
woman on 33 d Street. But next day the papers
announced " brilliant audience, beautiful mounting,
grand success/' Everybody was thanked, by name,
through the papers. Mr. Aronson sent me 1904.50.
Early next morning I was summoned to my parlor,
and before reaching it, I heard a masculine voice :
" Don't be afraid speak up now ! " Entering, I
was confronted by a wee, winsome lassie with long
curls, great eyes, a lovely little face from which a big
hat was pushed, while a chubby hand was thrust into
mine and a sweet little voice said, " I'se dot sumsin
for you ! "
It was the baby girl of Mr. Stevens, the manager
of Wallack's, and the " sumsin" was a big roll of
bank-notes $1620 while an honest little hand
presented the silver fraction, 85 cents.
This money, $2525, was immediately forwarded
to Governor Perry, who sent it where it was sorely
needed, to the little town of Fernandina and other
small towns in Florida afflicted by the scourge,
Gainsville, Manatee, McClenny, Crawfordsville, and
Enterprise. From all these towns, as well as from
Governor Perry, I received (fumigated) letters of
thanks and assurance that every dollar was used to
relieve distress !
From that time onward I thought of nothing,
worked for nothing except the relief of Jackson
ville. I was nothing but a theatrical manager. It
was the custom of the theatres to present me with
the building and play also with a plan of the
house and all the tickets. I had to sell the seats
and boxes, do all the advertising, and meet sundry
432 My Day
outside expenses ushers, orchestra, etc. I did all
this with little help until my friends returned to
town, and then Mrs. Egbert Guernsey, Mrs. Bar
row, Mrs. Stedman, and Mrs. Botta became my pil
lars of strength. Each matinee was honored as were
the first two, with satin programmes, banners, and
flowers, personal notes sealed with white wax, etc.
I sat from morning until night at my desk, and my
diary, kept at the time, records two thousand letters
written by my own hand. Every theatre gave us a
play, and the Eden Musee a varied entertainment,
and Mrs. Sherwood came from Rome to give us
two readings.
When Mr. Daly's turn came, I had some difficulty
in selling seats. The public had endured a good
deal of Jacksonville, and began to say, "The Relief
Society is still with us," or, " The Jacksonville Re
lief Society, like Banquo's ghost, ' will not down.' '
My dear friend, Mr. Cyrus Field, found me in
some anxiety, and sent me his clerk every morn
ing to ask how I was " getting along," taking entire
blocks of seats and filling them with his friends.
Mrs. Jeanette Thurber also came in (when I was
flagging) with her large heart and full hands ; so our
old friends Mrs. Gilbert, James Lewis, John Drew,
George Clark, Kitty Cheatham, and Ada Rehan
played, as the Jenkins of the day announced, " to a
large, brilliant, and fashionable house." I added to
each of my satin souvenirs for " the cast " a quotation
from Shakespeare. Ada Rehan played " The Wife
of Socrates " as an afterpiece. On her souvenir was
printed in gold ;
My Day 433
ft Be she as shrewd
... As Socrates' Xantippe,"
" She hath a tear for Pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity."
When the time arrived for Mr. Chickering to
give me his hall for a concert, I was beginning to
feel a little weary, and was glad to enlist the interest
of Professor Ogden Doremus, formerly president
of the Philharmonic Society. I wrote letters which
brought many offers. " How many ? " asked Dr.
Doremus. "A hatful," I answered. We poured
them out on a table and made a selection. " These,"
said the doctor, " are fine, fine ! But we must have
a star ! I'll go out to-morrow and sweep the skies
for comets. The great planets will not work for
nothing."
At night he wrote me : " No hope for a star !
Everybody wants money ! We must manage with
our amateurs."
The next day I drove up boldly to the Metro
politan Opera House and asked for Mr. Stanton.
I told him my story, and begged him to " help me,
to help my poor countrymen."
" I'll give you Alvary ! " he exclaimed. " Noth
ing is too good for your cause ! " " Oh," I faltered,
for I was astounded, " I'm sure Alvary will not
condescend to sing with a company of amateurs, to
the accompaniment of one piano." " Will not ? "
said Mr. Stanton ; " it is my impression Alvary will
do what I order him to do." He continued, how
ever, as Colonel Mapleson had done with Patti,
to say that, although this was all true, it would be
2F
434 My Day
wise for me to request Alvary to sing. This I did,
receiving a gracious, acquiescent reply.
Mrs. Shaw, the famous siffleuse^ had just returned
from England, where she had whistled for the Prince
of Wales, and I was delighted at her offer to con
tribute to the concert. The programme was ar
ranged, Mr. Chickering notified, and twelve hundred
tickets sent me to be sold. We set the stage mag
nificently, borrowing rugs, choice furniture, pictures,
hangings. We furnished a greenroom with refresh
ments, cigars, and flowers, and a remoter private
room for the great tenor, had the banners extraor
dinarily handsome, and advertised our programme
for Friday night, October 12.
Early Monday morning I received the following
note : -
" Herr Max Alvary supposed when he consented to sing
for Madame Pryor that she would arrange a programme in
accordance with his social and artistic position.
" Madame Pryor has not done this. Herr Alvary will
not sing for Madame Pryor."
Before I recovered my senses after reading this
astounding missive, I received the following:
" Madam ; When Mrs. Shaw consented to whistle for
you, she forgot she was under contract with Mr. Pond.
She cannot appear on any occasion outside Mr. Pond's
series of entertainments."
Light broke upon my clouded vision. This
the siffleuse, was the offending one ! I wrote at once
to Herr Alvary that the number to which he had
My Day 435
objected was withdrawn. I told the telegraph
messenger to wait for an answer. He returned after
an absence of several hours, and reported : " I asked
the gentleman for an answer, and he slammed the
door in my face. Then I waited outside till dinner
time ! "
Tuesday, Wednesday, passed. I forbore to annoy
Mr. Stanton. It was not my will to accept anything
against another's will. Herr Alvary might go to
France for me ! I should certainly not humble
myself to him. In the meantime, Dr. Doremus
tried again and again in vain. Thursday ! No
Alvary, no whistler ! A pretty way indeed to treat a
confiding public buying tickets to hear both of them !
Finally I broke down. I wrote to the naughty
boy, and wrote to his heart. I said in conclusion,
" While you hesitate, my countrymen are dying."
He had a heart and I found it. I received a prompt
answer:
" MADAME PRYOR :
" I will sing for you Friday, and I will sing as often as the
audience wishes. I am sorry for the sorrow I gave you,
but Madame Pryor, you know the human voice was
never meant for whistling !
O
" Your humble,
" MAX ALVARY."
The concert was fine. He sang as never before,
returning again and again in response to the enthusi
astic recalls of the large audience. Mrs. Sylvanus
Reed, who was one of my patronesses on all my
programmes, brought with her twenty or more of
436 My Day
the young ladies of her school. I had not required
evening dress, but from my lofty seat in the sky
gallery I looked down upon hundreds of the flower-
decked heads of my dear American fellow-women.
After Alvary's last number, he appeared in a side
aisle, sweeping the galleries with his opera-glass.
" Mamma/' said my daughter Fanny, " that man is
looking for you ! " " He'll not find me," I assured
her ; " he never saw me." " But a man who has seen
you is with him and is helping him ! " Sure enough,
the double barrels were soon focussed upon me in
my eyrie, and Alvary, in an impressive manner, waved
his hand, laid it upon his heart, and thrice bowed
low.
But this was not the last time I saw my naughty,
bonny boy Alvary. I was bidden once to spend
my day as pleased me best, as it was my birthday,
and I elected to see " Siegfried." I tied my card
to some violets and threw them at the feet of the
then greatest tenor in the world, and he recognized
the tribute. Many were the lovely letters I received
after this delightful concert, one most charming from
my dear old friend, William C. Rives.
But the blessed frost soon came to do more for
the stricken city than I could do. I reopened,
cleansed, and refurnished St. Luke's Hospital, sent
nearly a thousand dollars to Sister Mary Ann to re
habilitate the Catholic Hospital, and a similar sum
to the Jacksonville Orphanage. Governor Perry
sent a committee all the way from Florida to thank
me, letters poured in from distant friends, the papers
said lovely things about my effort. (f Who is the
My Day 437
best theatrical manager in New York ? " was asked
of A. M. Palmer. "Well," he replied, " if you
wish a true answer, I should say Mrs. Pryor ! "
In a time of national disaster no other city in the
world responds as does New York. Witness the Gal-
veston flood, when one bazaar I had the pleasure of
managing yielded $ 51,000 witness the San Fran
cisco earthquake ! Every heart is warmed with
sympathy every hand open, when real trouble, real
disaster, overtakes any ,part of our country. And
nowhere do we find a quicker response than among
actors, who are rarely, if ever, rich, and never lead, as
others do, a life of ease.
The letters I received from the New York women
who had so nobly stood by me and helped me were,
for a long time, delightful reading. They are still
cherished as a reward second only to the crowning
reward the relief of suffering which has com
forted me all along the subsequent years of my life.
They are noble, generous letters, and I wish I could
give them here, every one, as models of beautiful
letters as well. One, from the gifted Mrs. Vincenzo
Botta, is an example of the rest :
" 25 EAST 37TH STREET, December 13.
" DEAR MRS. PRYOR :
I congratulate you most warmly on the success of your
movement in the relief of our Jacksonville citizens, for
it is you alone who have been the moving and animating
force of it all. It will be a pleasant thing for you to re
member always, and for us, too, who have followed your
lead, though so far behind. It will not be possible for me
to take the place on the committee to which you appoint
438 My Day
me. Do take it yourself, dear Mrs. Pryor ! You ought to
do so. Now the burden of this work is over, you should
not give it into other hands. So I beg you earnestly to
take my place.
" Ever cordially yours,
"ANNIE C. L. BOTTA."
It had been suggested that the committee which
had exhibited so much ability should not disband,
but remain as a permanent organization for the re
lief of sudden national disaster. I had wished to
see Mrs. Botta at the head of this committee.
We finally, to our regret ever since, elected to
disband. When I rendered my report and bade my
dear co-workers adieu, I told them some pleasant
truths. Every banner and every blossom had been
given us. The American District Telegraph Com
pany had made no charge for service messengers
sent me daily to await orders.
The press had been very generous to us. For
advertising our entertainments, all charges were re
mitted by the Tribune, Herald, Sun, and other papers.
The editors of sixteen New York papers gave us
unstinted praise and encouragement. If they per
ceived cause for criticism, they withheld it. They
helped us in every way, and rejoiced our hearts by
the sweet reward of approbation. They said that
we were " a band of self-denying and gifted women,
who add another to the roll of gracious achievements
which do honor to piety and womanhood."
We could not follow our work in the little towns
of Florida, by the cot of the poor negro or the home
of the widow and orphan and destitute. It should
My Day 439
be enough for us to know that through us some
cooling influence reached their fevered brows, that
suitable food and clothing was found for them, that
their hearts were cheered in a dark hour by per
ceiving that they were not forgotten or friendless.
We were told that our alms for the orphans were in
response to the dying prayers of mothers (a little
band of New York children elected to become the
guardian angels of one of these hapless orphans), and
we learned that our gift to the Catholic sisters was
larger than any they received from any other source.
We were assured that comfort was restored, pure
conduits for water constructed, and good food and
clothing provided for the Protestant orphans. We
reopened the hospital, needed more than ever in
Jacksonville, and about to be closed for want of
money. All this was much reward, and we could
add to it our own grateful consciousness of having
done a noble and worthy deed.
I shall ever feel the deepest gratitude for my sup
port in this charity ; for the gift of beloved and
honored names, names never withheld from a
noble cause, for generous forbearance towards my
self, and for many words of approbation and en
couragement. My heart is full of gratitude, and
full also of all " good wishes, praise, and prayers "
for the noble band of players who made the great
work possible.
" The little band " of children who elected to be
come the guardians of one orphan was the Morning-
side Club, their president a very lovely little girl
Renee Coudert.
CHAPTER XLII
IN the autumn of 1900 a strange disaster befell
the beautiful city of Galveston. A mighty wave
lifted its crest far out at sea and marched straight
on until it engulfed the city. It all happened sud
denly, in a night. Thousands of men, women, and
children perished. Hundreds of babies were born
that night, and picked up alive, floating on the little
mattresses to which drowning mothers had con
signed them. The Catholic sisters and their orphan
charges all perished. The Protestant Orphan Asy
lum, on higher ground, had been built around its
first room, and in this central chamber the children
were gathered, and spent the night in singing their
little hymns. The outer rooms received the shock
of the waves, but this small sanctuary remained
intact. For many days after the waters subsided,
children were found wandering in the streets some
did not know their own names, others anxiously
questioned the passer-by " Where is my mother ?
Have you found my papa yet ? "
The country rushed to the rescue, not to save
it was too late but to succor the homeless, relieve
the destitute.
I was summoned one morning to my reception-
room, where I found a committee awaiting me from
one of the large newspapers in New York. They
bore a message from the proprietor and editor to
440
My Day 441
the effect that he wished to open a great bazaar for
the relief of Galveston, and begged I would consent
to manage it. My success for Jacksonville had
brought me this honor.
I saw at once that I had an opportunity to ac
complish great good. I also realized the difficulties
I should have to encounter. The bazaar was to be
worked up from the beginning, and three weeks
were allowed me for the task. My personal influence
in gaining patronage and material could not be
great and newspaper influence was an unknown
quantity to me. However, " nothing venture noth
ing have." The very fact of difficulty stimulated
me, and I consented.
Accordingly, next day I repaired to my "place of
business," a room in the Waldorf Astoria, and found
myself equipped with stenographers, typewriters
and type-writing machines, a desk for myself, a desk
for my assisting manager, and plenty of pens, ink,
and paper. After a rapid consultation, a plan of pro
cedure was adopted : we must have influential
patronesses, we must have competent managers for
fifteen booths, and enlist in our service willing hearts
and hands to solicit contributions of material. This
was a great work, but we set about it with energy.
Our troubles soon arose from the number of offers of
assistance which poured in upon us, and the difficulty
of selection. Committees were out of the question.
There was no time for any such machinery. To
avoid delay and complications, I was appointed a
committee of one ; a die of my signature was cut,
and everything relative to the booths passed under
442 My Day
my own supervision every paper was signed with
my name, every appointment made by me. Our
one-room office was soon too small, and three more
rooms added to it, one for Mrs. Vivian's exclusive
use, that she might try the voices of the singers
who offered their services and decide upon the
respective merits of the numbers of musicians who
generously proffered help.
I wish I could tell of the splendid work my
assistants accomplished Mrs. Donald McLean,
Mrs. John G. Carlisle, good "Aunt Louisa El-
dridge," the actress, Mrs. Timothy Woodruff, Mrs.
Gielow, Mrs. Marie Cross Newhaus, Mrs. Wads-
worth Vivian, Helen Gardiner, the authoress, Mrs.
John Wyeth, Miss Florence Guernsey and many
others. With such a staff success was assured.
But I knew well this city of New York. I must
have prestige. I must have " stars," and bright ones,
on my list of patronesses. To secure them, at a sea
son when many people of social prominence were in
Europe, or at country places, required numbers of
letters and much time. Finally I made a bold dash for
distinction. I remembered that John Van Buren, when
asked how he could dare propose marriage to Queen
Victoria, replied, " I supposed she would say c no '
but then she might say 'yes." I telegraphed her
Majesty, laid the cause of the Galveston orphans at
her feet, and craved a word of sympathy in the effort
I was making for their relief. Fate was kinder to
me than to Mr. Van Buren. She said " yes." She
did sympathize, and " commanded/' from Balmoral,
that I be so informed. I then telegraphed the Prin-
My Day 443
cess Alexandra, and she answered most graciously from
Fredensborg. I then secured as patronesses for the
bazaar the Duchess of Marlborough, the Dowager
Duchess of Maryborough, Mrs. Cornwallis West,
the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, Lady Somerset, Lady
Aberdeen, Madame Loubet, Madame Diaz, wife of
the Mexican President, Madame Aspiroz, wife of
the Mexican Ambassador. All of these noble
ladies sent personal answers, and many of them
sums of money. Sir Thomas Lipton heard of the
bazaar and sent from England, unsolicited, #500.
To this foreign list I was able to add a large
number of the New York names best known and
most highly esteemed with us. With such guar
antee for the " tone" of the bazaar, I was assured of
patronage.
When the opening night arrived, however, I was
possessed with a sickening fear lest there should be
no audience. A fairy village of booths filled the
great ball-room at the Waldorf Astoria, and the
generous merchants of New York had enriched them
with rare and beautiful things. Mr. Edward Moran
gave one of his famous marines. President Diaz
sent a bronze group from the Paris Exposition, rep
resenting a reaper with his sickle his two daughters
binding his sheaves. Mr. Stanley McCormick pur
chased this for the office in Chicago of the McCormick
reaper. Rich furs, tiger rugs, opera-cloaks, ladies*
hats, silverware, watches, jewels, bicycles, a grand
piano, and an automobile were included in our col
lection. I had written General Miles requesting him
to open the bazaar, and he had come from Washing-
444 My Day
ton with Mrs. Miles. When I arrived on the open
ing night I was conducted to the small ball-room,
where I found ten or more major-generals in full
uniform, Governor Sayre from Texas, Mr. Aspiroz,
the Mexican Ambassador, who had come from Wash
ington to bring us the present from President and
Mrs. Diaz, and ladies of their company. On General
Miles's arm, attended by these distinguished men and
their wives, we proceeded through crowds of specta
tors to the lower ball-room. When I entered, I
found three thousand people already assembled!
The head of the armies of the United States received
a magnificent welcome. From Mrs. Astor's box he
made the opening address, followed by a most touch
ing narrative from Governor Sayre. My dear Mrs.
Carlisle appeared in the box with a lovely wreath
of laurel for General Miles. But I cannot describe
the scene. Nothing like this bazaar has ever been
seen in New York. There have been others but
without the cachet of military rank at home and
royalty abroad. Telegrams from Mrs. McKinley;
letter and a splendid silver present from Admiral
and Mrs. Dewey ; letter and present of rare em
broidery from petite Madame Wu of the Chinese
Embassy; letter and present of a silver flask from
Madame Dreyfus, these and many similar incidents
cheered us in the hour of our triumph an hour,
too, of great bodily weariness.
We rang down our curtain with eclat our own
Mark Twain just off his home-coming steamship
responding at once to my letter of invitation, and
making a happy speech. From my seat in the low
My Day 445
box I looked down upon the faces of my sons
Roger and Willy, who seemed in anxious conference
on some subject. They gave me an encouraging
nod. I found they knew, as I did not, that a com
mittee was coming along the gallery to give me
flowers, pin an emblem on my bosom, say dear
things about my work. They were anxious lest
their tired mother should prove unequal to the
short speech of thanks demanded of her.
We sent $51,000 to Galveston ! I was per
mitted to select a special object for this large sum.
I suggested the building of an orphan asylum in
which should be gathered all homeless orphan chil
dren, irrespective of creed or country.
Within a year the asylum was erected, furnished,
and the hapless children gathered under its shelter.
The mover in this grand charity said he could never
have accomplished it without me I could have
done nothing without him ! He had his friends.
He also had his enemies, who rated his charity as an
" advertisement." Of all this I know nothing ; but
I do know that this Orphan Asylum in Galveston
was a grand and noble work ; and my old and val
ued friend, Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, has reason to be
grateful that it was given to her son to build it.
" What can we do for you ? " was asked of me by
one of the managers at its opening. " Nothing," I
answered; " the work is its own reward. But in the
daily prayers of your orphan children, let them ask
God's blessing upon all those who helped to give
this home to His homeless, children."
God, I humbly trust, did so bless them all
446 My Day
the eighty-year-old woman on the Pacific slope who
sent a kerchief of her own making ; the noble ladies
across the Atlantic who promptly gave their honored
names and their money ; the little boy whose curly
head I could see, moving among the crowd solicit
ing pennies for the orphans ; the good woman whose
head had grown gray beneath the crown of Eng
land.
But especially I wish, I pray, all blessings for the
band of dear women who, coming often in rain and
storm, worked with me from morning until night
to help build a shelter for Galveston's homeless
orphans.
CHAPTER XLIII
TH E years which had brought me such interest
ing work were full years also to my dear gen
eral. In June, 1 88$, he delivered an address
to the graduating class at the Albany Law School
an address so inspiring, so highly commended at the
time, that it should not be lost. He had been all
his life intimately acquainted with the great legal
lights abroad. They had given him his first aspira
tions, and been his inspired teachers ever after.
And yet he could truthfully tell the American stu
dent :
" Nor need we travel abroad for examples and
illustrations of forensic oratory in its highest perfec
tion ; for in the sublime passion of Patrick Henry,
in the gorgeous vehemence of Choate, in the brilliant
and abounding fancy of Prentiss, and in the majestic
simplicity of Webster, we find at home every beauty
and every power of eloquence displayed with an
effect not interior to the achievements of the mighty
masters of antiquity."*
Diligently as he studied his profession, he found
time for lighter, but not perhaps really more conge
nial, occupations. From time to time he addressed
college societies on literary themes. He wrote for
the North American /fcriVsr, the Fwitflt, and the
" Encyclopedia Britannica." Like his public ad
dresses, his writing was said to display ripe scholar-
447
448 My Day
ship and a clear, polished style. The highest note
was never too high for him !
He would have had to be " made all over again/'
had he felt no interest in politics. He was born,
as he often declared, " a Presbyterian and a Demo
crat," and he never faltered in allegiance to either.
" Oh, God guide us aright," prayed a member of the
body that framed the Westminster Catechism, "for
thou knowest we are very determined." Having set out
in one direction, the worthy brother doubted the
power of the Almighty himself to alter his course !
Although my Husband refrained from political
talk or discussion, he was glad to be sent to the
convention that nominated Mr. Tilden. But prob
ably his first conspicuous appearance on the politi
cal theatre was the Gubernatorial Convention at
Syracuse, of which he drew the platform, and which
resulted in the candidacy of Mr. Cleveland. That
platform was acknowledged to have aided materially
in the election of Mr. Cleveland. Its author's ad
dress in presenting it was much applauded.
Just as I closed my Jacksonville work, my gen
eral argued and won his great Sugar Trust case.
" Had he done nothing else," said one whose word
means much, " he could point to this case as an
enduring monument." His rapid rise to fame at
the bar is well known. " His legal victories would
make a long list," says a contemporary writer, " but
he never shrank from a suit because it was unpopu
lar or because the legal odds were many against its
success, however just it might be. His deep knowl
edge of law, his readiness of resource, his care in
My Day 449
preparing his case, his unfailing good humor, his
pluck, ardor, and clearness in pleading, have made
him influential and successful in the courts." Be
ginning with the Tilton-Beecher suit, he was coun
sel in the Morey Letter case and the Holland
murder trial. He was also engaged in the suits
against Governor Sprague in Rhode Island, and
the Ames impeachment proceedings in Mississippi.
He was the first to win a suit against the Elevated
Railroad Company for damages to adjoining prop
erty. He was also counsel in the Hoyt will case,
the Chicago anarchist trials, and now in the Sugar
Trust suit, in which he was successful in the New
York City courts as well as in the Court of Appeals.
At the time of his direst distress he refused a suit
against the good Peter Cooper.
It was in 1889 that my husband suggested and
conducted the suit against the Sugar Trust, the first
litigation in any court or any state against combina
tions in restraint of trade ; and as he was successful
against powerful opposition, he acquired a prestige
which was the immediate occasion of his appointment
to the bench.
On October 9, 1890, Mr. John Russell Young
gave a dinner in his honor at the Astor House
a dinner notable for the number of distinguished
guests. Among them, Hon. Grover Cleveland,
General Sherman, General Sickles, Henry George,
Daniel Dougherty, Daniel Lamont, W. J. Florence,
Mark Twain, John B. Haskin, Joseph Jefferson,
Thomas Nast, Judge Brady, Judge Joseph F. Daly,
Murat Hatsted, Senator Hearst, was ever such a
2G
450 My Day
company ? Laying his hand on my husband's
shoulder, General Sherman said : " We would have
done all this for him long ago, but he had to be
such a rebel ! "
He had been appointed to fill the unexpired term
of a retiring judge. The next year he came before
the people for election, and was chosen by a great
majority of many thousand votes to be judge of
the Court of Pleas, and soon afterwards became
judge of the Supreme Court of New York.
He was welcomed to the bench by every possible
expression of cordial good-will, confidence, admira
tion. Again there was no dissenting voice. At a
celebration, not long after, of Grant's birthday, he
was one of those invited to speak, and was thus
introduced by General Horace Porter : " Gentle
men, we have a distinguished general here to-night
who fought with us in the war but not on the
same side. It has been said that it is astounding
how you like a man after you fight him ! That is
the reason we have him here to-night to give him a
warm reception. He always gave us a warm recep
tion. He used to take us, and provide for us, and
was willing to keep us out of harm's way while
hostilities lasted unless sooner exchanged. He
was always in the front, and his further appearance
in the front to-night is a reflection upon the accuracy
of our marksmanship. Not knowing how to punish
him there, we brought him up to New York, and
sentenced him to fourteen years' hard labor on the
bench."
He brought to the bench the habits of self-denial
My Day 451
and unremitting study he had practised for twenty
years. During all that time, and after, nobody ever
saw him at a place of amusement, theatre, ball, or
opera, and very rarely at a dinner-party. He knew
no part of New York except the streets he traversed
to and from his office or court room. His brief
summer holidays were spent at the White Sulphur
Springs in Virginia, where his studies continued.
In 1895 he there addressed the Virginia Bar Asso
ciation on the influence of Virginia in the formation
of the Federal Constitution, and I venture to say
that whoever reads it in its printed form will find
interesting historical facts not generally known. In
accordance with my plan to permit his contem
poraries to tell the story of his public life, I copy
one testimonial from a Richmond paper : " Judge
Pryor made a splendid address. It was an ornate,
learned, and eminently instructive production, and
attested the jealous devotion of a distinguished son
of Virginia for the old commonwealth, and his
careful study of her political history. It did honor
to the gentleman who made the address and to the
profession of which he is a shining light/*
Whatever he wrote was always read aloud and
copied at home, until my daughter Gordon left us,
even the legal arguments so dimly understood by
her. Apart from the technical difficulties, she could
always receive some impression from his argument,
and the impression upon her singularly clear, un
prejudiced mind was what he wished to know. Our
own turn in reading aloud gave him a delicious
opportunity to correct our pronunciation. His pa-
452 My Day
tience could never brook a mispronounced word
and alas, after Gordon married I found myself too
old that I might learn. However, he patiently con
tinues to struggle with me.
Once, at the White Sulphur Springs, a beautiful
Virginia girl was under my care. My general was
absorbed, it was the summer he made his speech,
and did not render the homage to which the pair
of blue eyes was accustomed. " I don't think the
judge likes me," she complained; "he never has a
word to say to me. He looks as if he's always
thinking about something else."
" Lizzie," I suggested, " you must mispronounce
a word or two, and we'll see what effect that will
have." We put our heads together and made out
a list for her to commit to memory. At dinner she
fastened her eye upon our victim, and commenced,
offering a flower, " It's not very pretty, but the
perfume', " "I beg your pardon, Miss ,
per'fume, accent on first syllable ! " he exclaimed.
" Oh, you're so kind, Judge ! This just illustrates
" Illustrate, my dear young lady! accent
on second syllable, but pray go on." " I've never
had anybody to tell me any of these things/' she
moaned. " If you only would " " With pleas
ure ! A beautiful young lady should be perfect in
speech, as in all things." The little minx played
her part to perfection. Presently, overcome with
the ludicrous situation, she excused herself, and my
dear innocent remarked, as his admiring eyes fol
lowed her, " An uncommonly sensible girl that ! "
I enjoyed a bit of newspaper gossip about this
My Day 453
peculiarity of my dear general. A physician was
testifying before him in a malpractice case, and re
peatedly used the word "pare'sis," accenting the
second syllable. The judge exhibited extreme rest
lessness, and finally ventured, " Excuse me the
word you mean is possibly par'esis ? " As the wit
ness proceeded, the offence was repeated and again
corrected. " Now, your Honor," said the offender,
" I concede all wisdom to the bench in legal matters,
but I am a physician, and in the profession the word
is pare'sis." " It is par'esis in my court," was the
decision promptly handed down, with an emphasis
that forbade appeal.
I am sorry I cannot record his services to his
country and his profession during the seven years
before he was overtaken by the age-limit prescribed
by New York law his championship of maligned
women, his decision that divorce cases should
not be tried secretly but must be held in open
court now become a law his restriction of
the right of naturalization to at least knowledge
of the English language. I cannot go into
these learned subjects as I trust some one of
the profession will do some day. I only record
that my dear general, as was conceded by every one,
fulfilled the sacred trust " he was a father to the
poor, and the cause that he knew not he searched
out."
This public recognition of his ability and worth,
with its opportunity for larger usefulness, came at
last as the crown of his long and heroic struggle. The
war had left him with nothing but a ragged uniform,
454 My Day
his sword, a wife, and seven children, his health,
his occupation, his place in the world, gone ; his
friends and comrades slain in battle ; his Southern
home impoverished and desolate. He had no profes
sion, no rights as a citizen, no ability to hold office.
That he conquered the fate which threatened to de
stroy him, and conquered it through the apprecia
tion awarded by his sometime enemies, is a strik
ing illustration of the possibilities afforded by our
country ; where not only can the impoverished
refugee from other lands find fortune and happiness,
but where her own sons, prostrate and ruined after a
dreadful fratricidal strife, can bind their wounds,
take up their lives again, and finally win reward for
their labors.
BY MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR
Reminiscences of Peace and War
Illustrated. Cloth, crown 8vo, $2.00 net
11 Few persons now living had a better opportunity to be in, and a part of,
the life of the national capital and mingle with its social and political lead
ers during that period when the war clouds were gathering to burst in 1861
than Mrs. Roger A. Pryor. Still fewer could have had the power to absorb
the vital and charming side of it, and to record it so entertainingly as she
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It is told in a modest way by one who bravely faced every deprivation and
returned to her desolate home with a cheery, hopeful spirit which manifests
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sacrifice she aided her husband to attain, in the face of great odds, eminent
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The Mother of Washington and Her Times
Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.50 net
"Although it is written along strictly historical lines it is more fascinating
than any novel. . . . The illustrations of the volume are many and beau
tiful, particularly the portraits in color" Boston, Transcript.
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Diary and Correspondence of John Evelyn
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Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin
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The Life of W. E. Gladstone
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Robert Y. Hayne and His Times
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Personal Reminiscences of Sir Henry Irving
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Abraham Lincoln : The Man of the People
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Recollections
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The Making of an American
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Life of William Shakespeare
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Lights and Shadows of a Long Episcopate
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Rambling Recollections
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