CHAPTER XLI

CHAPTER XLIIn 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 roomful 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 benevolent 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 present, and requested my "committee" to consider the matter, confer with their friends, and give me the opportunity to seek advice from mine. Mrs. Stedman seemed much discouraged, as we walked home together. She felt sure nothing would result fromthis experiment; and besides, as Mayor Hewitt was engaged in collecting funds for the relief of Jacksonville, 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' Jacksonville Relief Society," that names well known in social and literary circles were associated with hers, and donations of clothing, food, and money were solicited! Of course the press sent me many reporters, and I found myself suddenly invested with importance and armed with authority. I went joyfully 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 theHerald, theWorld, theSun, theTribune? Sorely perplexed, I answered: "Tell the gentlemen we are sitting with closed doors. I shall have nothing to report for several days."I suppose no woman in all New York was ever in a more embarrassing situation. Here was I advertisedas 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 effectively for the stricken people of Florida had been suddenly snatched from me. A friend in Jacksonville, 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 filled 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 orphans 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?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 pas? Where could I commence? Surely not by begging money—that I would never do. By some means we must earn it. Just then I saw that Mr. Frohman had offered a matinée for the Mayor's Relief Fund. I communicated with Mr. Frohman, asking him to beg the mayor to let my fine committee have this matinée with which to inaugurate our work. His Honor evidently regarded the proposition as indicative of nerve, needing repression. Mr. Frohman quoted him as surprised, and quite decided: "Mr. Hewitt says he thought everybody knew he needed all the money he could get."He had only that one matinée. Before night I had telegraphed every reputable theatre and concert-hall in the city, and securednine! 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 matinée, 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 hadtwo great matinées 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 patronesses. 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 baskets 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 programme, in which many stars participated—Kyrle Bellew, and others, and a wonderfully funny balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet"—De Wolf Hopper the Juliet, Jefferson De Angelis the nurse, and Marshall Wilder, Romeo!When it was all over, there was one very tiredwoman on 33d 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 $904.50. 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 Jacksonville. 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 sundryoutside expenses—ushers, orchestra, etc. I did all this with little help until my friends returned to town, and then Mrs. Egbert Guernsey, Mrs. Barrow, Mrs. Stedman, and Mrs. Botta became my pillars of strength. Each matinée 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 Musée 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 Relief 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 morning 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:—"Be she as shrewd... As Socrates' Xantippe,""She hath a tear for Pity, and a handOpen 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 Metropolitan Opera House and asked for Mr. Stanton. I told him my story, and begged him to "helpme, to help my poor countrymen.""I'll give you Alvary!" he exclaimed. "Nothing 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, however, as Colonel Mapleson had done with Patti, to say that, although this was all true, it would bewise for me torequestAlvary to sing. This I did, receiving a gracious, acquiescent reply.Mrs. Shaw, the famoussiffleuse, had just returned from England, where she had whistled for the Prince of Wales, and I was delighted at her offer to contribute to the concert. The programme was arranged, Mr. Chickering notified, and twelve hundred tickets sent me to be sold. We set the stage magnificently, borrowing rugs, choice furniture, pictures, hangings. We furnished a greenroom with refreshments, cigars, and flowers,—and a remoter private room for the great tenor,—had the banners extraordinarily 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—thesiffleuse, was the offending one! I wrote at once to Herr Alvary that the number to which he hadobjected 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 tohis 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,youknow the human voice was never meant for whistling!"Your humble,"Max Alvary."The concert was fine. He sang as never before, returning again and again in response to the enthusiastic recalls of the large audience. Mrs. Sylvanus Reed, who was one of my patronesses on all my programmes, brought with her twenty or more ofthe 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 rehabilitate 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. "Who is thebest 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 Galveston flood, when one bazaar I had the pleasure of managing yielded $51,000—witness the San Francisco 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 comforted 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 remember 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 appointme. Do take it yourself, dear Mrs. Pryor! Yououghtto 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 relief 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 Company 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 remitted by theTribune,Herald,Sun, and other papers. The editors of sixteen New York papers gave us unstinted praise and encouragement. If they perceived 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 shouldbe 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 perceiving 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 support in this charity; for the gift of beloved and honored names,—names never withheld from a noble cause,—for generous forbearance towards myself, and for many words of approbation and encouragement. 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 become the guardians of one orphan was the Morning-side Club, their president a very lovely little girl—Renée Coudert.CHAPTER XLIIIn 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 suddenly, 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 consigned them. The Catholic sisters and their orphan charges all perished. The Protestant Orphan Asylum, 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 tothe 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 accomplish 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 nothing 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 procedure 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 undermy 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 Eldridge," the actress, Mrs. Timothy Woodruff, Mrs. Gielow, Mrs. Marie Cross Newhaus, Mrs. Wadsworth 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 season 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 '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." Shedidsympathize, and "commanded," from Balmoral, that I be so informed. I then telegraphed the PrincessAlexandra, and she answered most graciously from Fredensborg. I then secured as patronesses for the bazaar the Duchess of Marlborough, the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, 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 guarantee 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, representing a reaper with his sickle—his two daughters binding his sheaves. Mr. Stanley McCormick purchased 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 collection. I had written General Miles requesting him to open the bazaar, and he had come from Washingtonwith Mrs. Miles. When I arrived on the opening 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 Washington 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 spectators 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 touching 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 thecachetof 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 embroidery frompetiteMadame 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 withéclat—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 lowbox 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 committee 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 permitted 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 children, 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 valued friend, Mrs. Phœbe 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—theeighty-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 soliciting pennies for the orphans; the good woman whose head had grown gray beneath the crown of England.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.Judge Roger A. Pryor in 1900.CHAPTER XLIIIThe years which had brought me such interesting work were full years also to my dear general. In June, 1888, 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 aspirations, and been his inspired teachers ever after. And yet he could truthfully tell the American student:—"Nor need we travel abroad for examples and illustrations of forensic oratory in its highest perfection; 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 inferior 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 congenial, occupations. From time to time he addressed college societies on literary themes. He wrote for theNorth American Review, theForum, and the "Encyclopædia Britannica." Like his public addresses, his writing was said to display ripe scholarshipand 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 Democrat," 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 probably his first conspicuous appearance on the political 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 address in presenting it was much applauded.Just as I closed my Jacksonville work, my general 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 unpopular or because the legal odds were many against its success, however just it might be. His deep knowledge of law, his readiness of resource, his care inpreparing his case, his unfailing good humor, his pluck, ardor, and clearness in pleading, have made him influential and successful in the courts." Beginning with the Tilton-Beecher suit, he was counsel 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 property. 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 herefuseda 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 combinations 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 Halsted, Senator Hearst,—was ever such acompany? 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, admiration. 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: "Gentlemen, 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 reception. 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-denialand 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 Association 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 contemporaries 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, unprejudiced mind was what he wished to know. Our own turn in reading aloud gave him a delicious opportunity to correct our pronunciation. His patiencecould never brook a mispronounced word—and alas, after Gordon married I found myself too old that I might learn. However, he patiently continues 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'resokind, Judge! This just il´lustrates—" "Illus´trate, 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. "Ifyouonly would—" "With pleasure! 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 followed her, "An uncommonly sensible girl that!"I enjoyed a bit of newspaper gossip about thispeculiarity of my dear general. A physician was testifying before him in a malpractice case, and repeatedly used the word "pare´sis," accenting the second syllable. The judge exhibited extreme restlessness, and finally ventured, "Excuse me—the word you mean is possibly par´esis?" As the witness 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,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 profession, no rights as a citizen, no ability to hold office. That he conquered the fate which threatened to destroy him,—and conquered it through the appreciation awarded by his sometime enemies,—is a striking 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. PRYORReminiscences of Peace and WarIllustrated. Cloth, crown 8vo, $2.00 net"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 leaders 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 has done. She was not only a keen observer of all that transpired during those memorable days, but the manner in which she has recorded her recollections is done with charming grace. It is a pathetic story of woman's heroism and devotion, sad and amusing by turns, and always interesting. 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 itself in every page, as it did in the days following the war when by her self-sacrifice she aided her husband to attain, in the face of great odds, eminent rank in the bar and bench of New York."—Boston Herald."Nothing which has yet been produced excels in charm of style, in temperate and modern statement of facts, and in vivid portrayal of social characteristics and incidents of private and military life than the thoroughly delightful book of reminiscences just completed by Mrs. Roger A Pryor. Mrs. Pryor's narrative ... gives a wealth of information, which is essential to the true understanding of history, and in a shape that must charm and delight the reader. Americans who would see the full conditions of the South in its great crisis have been placed under a debt of lasting obligation to the talented author of 'Reminiscences of Peace and War.'"—Philadelphia Public Ledger.The Birth of the Nation: Jamestown, 1607Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.75 net"No better book could be found to give a lively impression of the early days of the seventeenth century."—The Outlook."She has weighed the reputations of men in the balance, and one feels that her judgment is equally just and sympathetic."—The New York Times.The Mother of Washington and Her TimesIllustrated. 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 beautiful, particularly the portraits in color."—Boston Transcript.PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New YorkA Selected List of Biographies and AutobiographiesACTON, (Lord) J. E. E.Letters to Mary Gladstone, with Memoir by H. PaulIllustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netALLINGHAM, WILLIAMA DiaryEdited by H. Allingham and D. Radford.Cloth, 8vo, $3.75 netARBLAY, MADAME D'Diary, Life, and Letters of Madame d'ArblayCloth, 8vo, $15.00 netBISMARCKSome Secret Pages of his HistoryBy M. Busch.Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.00 netBROWN,Dr. JOHNLetters of Dr. John BrownEdited by his son and D. W. Forrest.Cloth, 8vo, $4.00 netCHURCHILL, LORD RANDOLPHLife of Lord Randolph ChurchillBy W. Spencer Churchill.Two Volumes. Portraits and Illustrations. 8vo, $9.00 netDUMAS, ALEXANDREMy MemoirsTranslated by E. M. Waller.Six Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, each $1.75 netELLSWORTH, OLIVERThe Life of Oliver EllsworthBy William Garrott Brown.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netEVELYN, JOHNDiary and Correspondence of John EvelynEdited by Austin Dobson.Three Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $8.00 netFRANKLIN, BENJAMINLife and Writings of Benjamin FranklinEdited by A. H. Smyth.Ten Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $15.00 netGLADSTONE, W. E.The Life of W. E. GladstoneBy John Morley.Three Volumes. Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.50 netSame in Half Morocco, $17.50 netHAYNE, ROBERT Y.Robert Y. Hayne and His TimesBy Theodore D. Jervey.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netHOHENLOHE-SCHILLINGSFUERST, PRINCE OFThe Memoirs of Prince Chlodwig of HohenloheAuthorized by Prince Alexander of Hohenlohe. Edited by F. Curtius.Two Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $6.00 netIRVING, SIR HENRYPersonal Reminiscences of Sir Henry IrvingBy Bram Stoker.Two Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 netLINCOLN, ABRAHAMAbraham Lincoln: The Man of the PeopleBy Norman Hapgood.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netAbraham Lincoln: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netO'BRIEN, WILLIAMRecollectionsCloth, 8vo, $3.50 netRIIS, JACOB A.The Making of an AmericanAn Autobiography.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netROOSEVELT, THEODORETheodore Roosevelt: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netSHAKESPEARE, WILLIAMLife of William ShakespeareBy Sidney Lee.Cloth, 12mo, $2.25 netShakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and ManBy Hamilton W. Mabie.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netWESLEY, JOHNThe Life of John WesleyBy Caleb T. Winchester.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.50 netWHIPPLE, HENRY B.Lights and Shadows of a Long EpiscopateCloth, 8vo, $2.50 netWOLFF, (Sir) HENRY D.Rambling RecollectionsTwo Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 netPUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New YorkFOOTNOTES[1]Rhodes's "History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231et seq.[2]History of James Ford Rhodes,passim.[3]Claiborne's "Seventy Years in Virginia."[4]"Reminiscences of Peace and War,"passim.[5]Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. 21.[6]Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.[7]TheHerald and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.[8]Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.

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 roomful 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 benevolent 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 present, and requested my "committee" to consider the matter, confer with their friends, and give me the opportunity to seek advice from mine. Mrs. Stedman seemed much discouraged, as we walked home together. She felt sure nothing would result fromthis experiment; and besides, as Mayor Hewitt was engaged in collecting funds for the relief of Jacksonville, 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' Jacksonville Relief Society," that names well known in social and literary circles were associated with hers, and donations of clothing, food, and money were solicited! Of course the press sent me many reporters, and I found myself suddenly invested with importance and armed with authority. I went joyfully 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 theHerald, theWorld, theSun, theTribune? Sorely perplexed, I answered: "Tell the gentlemen we are sitting with closed doors. I shall have nothing to report for several days."

I suppose no woman in all New York was ever in a more embarrassing situation. Here was I advertisedas 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 effectively for the stricken people of Florida had been suddenly snatched from me. A friend in Jacksonville, 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 filled 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 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 filled 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 orphans 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?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 pas? Where could I commence? Surely not by begging money—that I would never do. By some means we must earn it. Just then I saw that Mr. Frohman had offered a matinée for the Mayor's Relief Fund. I communicated with Mr. Frohman, asking him to beg the mayor to let my fine committee have this matinée with which to inaugurate our work. His Honor evidently regarded the proposition as indicative of nerve, needing repression. Mr. Frohman quoted him as surprised, and quite decided: "Mr. Hewitt says he thought everybody knew he needed all the money he could get."

He had only that one matinée. Before night I had telegraphed every reputable theatre and concert-hall in the city, and securednine! 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 matinée, 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 hadtwo great matinées 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 patronesses. 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 baskets 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 programme, in which many stars participated—Kyrle Bellew, and others, and a wonderfully funny balcony scene from "Romeo and Juliet"—De Wolf Hopper the Juliet, Jefferson De Angelis the nurse, and Marshall Wilder, Romeo!

When it was all over, there was one very tiredwoman on 33d 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 $904.50. 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 Jacksonville. 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 sundryoutside expenses—ushers, orchestra, etc. I did all this with little help until my friends returned to town, and then Mrs. Egbert Guernsey, Mrs. Barrow, Mrs. Stedman, and Mrs. Botta became my pillars of strength. Each matinée 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 Musée 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 Relief 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 morning 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:—

"Be she as shrewd... As Socrates' Xantippe,""She hath a tear for Pity, and a handOpen 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 Metropolitan Opera House and asked for Mr. Stanton. I told him my story, and begged him to "helpme, to help my poor countrymen.""I'll give you Alvary!" he exclaimed. "Nothing 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, however, as Colonel Mapleson had done with Patti, to say that, although this was all true, it would bewise for me torequestAlvary to sing. This I did, receiving a gracious, acquiescent reply.Mrs. Shaw, the famoussiffleuse, had just returned from England, where she had whistled for the Prince of Wales, and I was delighted at her offer to contribute to the concert. The programme was arranged, Mr. Chickering notified, and twelve hundred tickets sent me to be sold. We set the stage magnificently, borrowing rugs, choice furniture, pictures, hangings. We furnished a greenroom with refreshments, cigars, and flowers,—and a remoter private room for the great tenor,—had the banners extraordinarily 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—thesiffleuse, was the offending one! I wrote at once to Herr Alvary that the number to which he hadobjected 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 tohis 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,youknow the human voice was never meant for whistling!"Your humble,"Max Alvary."The concert was fine. He sang as never before, returning again and again in response to the enthusiastic recalls of the large audience. Mrs. Sylvanus Reed, who was one of my patronesses on all my programmes, brought with her twenty or more ofthe 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 rehabilitate 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. "Who is thebest 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 Galveston flood, when one bazaar I had the pleasure of managing yielded $51,000—witness the San Francisco 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 comforted 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 remember 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 appointme. Do take it yourself, dear Mrs. Pryor! Yououghtto 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 relief 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 Company 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 remitted by theTribune,Herald,Sun, and other papers. The editors of sixteen New York papers gave us unstinted praise and encouragement. If they perceived 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 shouldbe 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 perceiving 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 support in this charity; for the gift of beloved and honored names,—names never withheld from a noble cause,—for generous forbearance towards myself, and for many words of approbation and encouragement. 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 become the guardians of one orphan was the Morning-side Club, their president a very lovely little girl—Renée Coudert.

"Be she as shrewd... As Socrates' Xantippe,""She hath a tear for Pity, and a handOpen as day for melting charity."

"Be she as shrewd... As Socrates' Xantippe,"

"Be she as shrewd

... As Socrates' Xantippe,"

"She hath a tear for Pity, and a handOpen as day for melting charity."

"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 Metropolitan Opera House and asked for Mr. Stanton. I told him my story, and begged him to "helpme, to help my poor countrymen."

"I'll give you Alvary!" he exclaimed. "Nothing 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, however, as Colonel Mapleson had done with Patti, to say that, although this was all true, it would bewise for me torequestAlvary to sing. This I did, receiving a gracious, acquiescent reply.

Mrs. Shaw, the famoussiffleuse, had just returned from England, where she had whistled for the Prince of Wales, and I was delighted at her offer to contribute to the concert. The programme was arranged, Mr. Chickering notified, and twelve hundred tickets sent me to be sold. We set the stage magnificently, borrowing rugs, choice furniture, pictures, hangings. We furnished a greenroom with refreshments, cigars, and flowers,—and a remoter private room for the great tenor,—had the banners extraordinarily 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."

"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."

"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—thesiffleuse, was the offending one! I wrote at once to Herr Alvary that the number to which he hadobjected 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 tohis 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,youknow the human voice was never meant for whistling!"Your humble,"Max Alvary."

"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,youknow the human voice was never meant for whistling!

"Your humble,"Max Alvary."

The concert was fine. He sang as never before, returning again and again in response to the enthusiastic recalls of the large audience. Mrs. Sylvanus Reed, who was one of my patronesses on all my programmes, brought with her twenty or more ofthe 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 rehabilitate 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. "Who is thebest 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 Galveston flood, when one bazaar I had the pleasure of managing yielded $51,000—witness the San Francisco 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 comforted 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 remember 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 appointme. Do take it yourself, dear Mrs. Pryor! Yououghtto 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."

"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 remember 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 appointme. Do take it yourself, dear Mrs. Pryor! Yououghtto 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 relief 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 Company 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 remitted by theTribune,Herald,Sun, and other papers. The editors of sixteen New York papers gave us unstinted praise and encouragement. If they perceived 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 shouldbe 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 perceiving 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 support in this charity; for the gift of beloved and honored names,—names never withheld from a noble cause,—for generous forbearance towards myself, and for many words of approbation and encouragement. 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 become the guardians of one orphan was the Morning-side Club, their president a very lovely little girl—Renée Coudert.

CHAPTER XLIIIn 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 suddenly, 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 consigned them. The Catholic sisters and their orphan charges all perished. The Protestant Orphan Asylum, 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 tothe 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 accomplish 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 nothing 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 procedure 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 undermy 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 Eldridge," the actress, Mrs. Timothy Woodruff, Mrs. Gielow, Mrs. Marie Cross Newhaus, Mrs. Wadsworth 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 season 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 '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." Shedidsympathize, and "commanded," from Balmoral, that I be so informed. I then telegraphed the PrincessAlexandra, and she answered most graciously from Fredensborg. I then secured as patronesses for the bazaar the Duchess of Marlborough, the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, 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 guarantee 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, representing a reaper with his sickle—his two daughters binding his sheaves. Mr. Stanley McCormick purchased 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 collection. I had written General Miles requesting him to open the bazaar, and he had come from Washingtonwith Mrs. Miles. When I arrived on the opening 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 Washington 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 spectators 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 touching 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 thecachetof 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 embroidery frompetiteMadame 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 withéclat—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 lowbox 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 committee 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 permitted 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 children, 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 valued friend, Mrs. Phœbe 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—theeighty-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 soliciting pennies for the orphans; the good woman whose head had grown gray beneath the crown of England.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.Judge Roger A. Pryor in 1900.

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 suddenly, 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 consigned them. The Catholic sisters and their orphan charges all perished. The Protestant Orphan Asylum, 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 tothe 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 accomplish 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 nothing 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 procedure 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 undermy 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 Eldridge," the actress, Mrs. Timothy Woodruff, Mrs. Gielow, Mrs. Marie Cross Newhaus, Mrs. Wadsworth 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 season 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 '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." Shedidsympathize, and "commanded," from Balmoral, that I be so informed. I then telegraphed the PrincessAlexandra, and she answered most graciously from Fredensborg. I then secured as patronesses for the bazaar the Duchess of Marlborough, the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, 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 guarantee 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, representing a reaper with his sickle—his two daughters binding his sheaves. Mr. Stanley McCormick purchased 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 collection. I had written General Miles requesting him to open the bazaar, and he had come from Washingtonwith Mrs. Miles. When I arrived on the opening 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 Washington 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 spectators 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 touching 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 thecachetof 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 embroidery frompetiteMadame 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 withéclat—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 lowbox 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 committee 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 permitted 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 children, 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 valued friend, Mrs. Phœbe 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—theeighty-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 soliciting pennies for the orphans; the good woman whose head had grown gray beneath the crown of England.

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.

Judge Roger A. Pryor in 1900.

Judge Roger A. Pryor in 1900.

CHAPTER XLIIIThe years which had brought me such interesting work were full years also to my dear general. In June, 1888, 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 aspirations, and been his inspired teachers ever after. And yet he could truthfully tell the American student:—"Nor need we travel abroad for examples and illustrations of forensic oratory in its highest perfection; 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 inferior 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 congenial, occupations. From time to time he addressed college societies on literary themes. He wrote for theNorth American Review, theForum, and the "Encyclopædia Britannica." Like his public addresses, his writing was said to display ripe scholarshipand 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 Democrat," 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 probably his first conspicuous appearance on the political 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 address in presenting it was much applauded.Just as I closed my Jacksonville work, my general 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 unpopular or because the legal odds were many against its success, however just it might be. His deep knowledge of law, his readiness of resource, his care inpreparing his case, his unfailing good humor, his pluck, ardor, and clearness in pleading, have made him influential and successful in the courts." Beginning with the Tilton-Beecher suit, he was counsel 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 property. 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 herefuseda 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 combinations 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 Halsted, Senator Hearst,—was ever such acompany? 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, admiration. 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: "Gentlemen, 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 reception. 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-denialand 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 Association 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 contemporaries 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, unprejudiced mind was what he wished to know. Our own turn in reading aloud gave him a delicious opportunity to correct our pronunciation. His patiencecould never brook a mispronounced word—and alas, after Gordon married I found myself too old that I might learn. However, he patiently continues 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'resokind, Judge! This just il´lustrates—" "Illus´trate, 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. "Ifyouonly would—" "With pleasure! 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 followed her, "An uncommonly sensible girl that!"I enjoyed a bit of newspaper gossip about thispeculiarity of my dear general. A physician was testifying before him in a malpractice case, and repeatedly used the word "pare´sis," accenting the second syllable. The judge exhibited extreme restlessness, and finally ventured, "Excuse me—the word you mean is possibly par´esis?" As the witness 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,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 profession, no rights as a citizen, no ability to hold office. That he conquered the fate which threatened to destroy him,—and conquered it through the appreciation awarded by his sometime enemies,—is a striking 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.

The years which had brought me such interesting work were full years also to my dear general. In June, 1888, 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 aspirations, and been his inspired teachers ever after. And yet he could truthfully tell the American student:—

"Nor need we travel abroad for examples and illustrations of forensic oratory in its highest perfection; 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 inferior 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 congenial, occupations. From time to time he addressed college societies on literary themes. He wrote for theNorth American Review, theForum, and the "Encyclopædia Britannica." Like his public addresses, his writing was said to display ripe scholarshipand 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 Democrat," 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 probably his first conspicuous appearance on the political 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 address in presenting it was much applauded.

Just as I closed my Jacksonville work, my general 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 unpopular or because the legal odds were many against its success, however just it might be. His deep knowledge of law, his readiness of resource, his care inpreparing his case, his unfailing good humor, his pluck, ardor, and clearness in pleading, have made him influential and successful in the courts." Beginning with the Tilton-Beecher suit, he was counsel 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 property. 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 herefuseda 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 combinations 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 Halsted, Senator Hearst,—was ever such acompany? 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, admiration. 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: "Gentlemen, 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 reception. 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-denialand 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 Association 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 contemporaries 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, unprejudiced mind was what he wished to know. Our own turn in reading aloud gave him a delicious opportunity to correct our pronunciation. His patiencecould never brook a mispronounced word—and alas, after Gordon married I found myself too old that I might learn. However, he patiently continues 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'resokind, Judge! This just il´lustrates—" "Illus´trate, 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. "Ifyouonly would—" "With pleasure! 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 followed her, "An uncommonly sensible girl that!"

I enjoyed a bit of newspaper gossip about thispeculiarity of my dear general. A physician was testifying before him in a malpractice case, and repeatedly used the word "pare´sis," accenting the second syllable. The judge exhibited extreme restlessness, and finally ventured, "Excuse me—the word you mean is possibly par´esis?" As the witness 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,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 profession, no rights as a citizen, no ability to hold office. That he conquered the fate which threatened to destroy him,—and conquered it through the appreciation awarded by his sometime enemies,—is a striking 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. PRYORReminiscences of Peace and WarIllustrated. Cloth, crown 8vo, $2.00 net"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 leaders 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 has done. She was not only a keen observer of all that transpired during those memorable days, but the manner in which she has recorded her recollections is done with charming grace. It is a pathetic story of woman's heroism and devotion, sad and amusing by turns, and always interesting. 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 itself in every page, as it did in the days following the war when by her self-sacrifice she aided her husband to attain, in the face of great odds, eminent rank in the bar and bench of New York."—Boston Herald."Nothing which has yet been produced excels in charm of style, in temperate and modern statement of facts, and in vivid portrayal of social characteristics and incidents of private and military life than the thoroughly delightful book of reminiscences just completed by Mrs. Roger A Pryor. Mrs. Pryor's narrative ... gives a wealth of information, which is essential to the true understanding of history, and in a shape that must charm and delight the reader. Americans who would see the full conditions of the South in its great crisis have been placed under a debt of lasting obligation to the talented author of 'Reminiscences of Peace and War.'"—Philadelphia Public Ledger.The Birth of the Nation: Jamestown, 1607Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.75 net"No better book could be found to give a lively impression of the early days of the seventeenth century."—The Outlook."She has weighed the reputations of men in the balance, and one feels that her judgment is equally just and sympathetic."—The New York Times.The Mother of Washington and Her TimesIllustrated. 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 beautiful, particularly the portraits in color."—Boston Transcript.

BY Mrs. ROGER A. PRYOR

Reminiscences of Peace and WarIllustrated. Cloth, crown 8vo, $2.00 net

"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 leaders 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 has done. She was not only a keen observer of all that transpired during those memorable days, but the manner in which she has recorded her recollections is done with charming grace. It is a pathetic story of woman's heroism and devotion, sad and amusing by turns, and always interesting. 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 itself in every page, as it did in the days following the war when by her self-sacrifice she aided her husband to attain, in the face of great odds, eminent rank in the bar and bench of New York."—Boston Herald.

"Nothing which has yet been produced excels in charm of style, in temperate and modern statement of facts, and in vivid portrayal of social characteristics and incidents of private and military life than the thoroughly delightful book of reminiscences just completed by Mrs. Roger A Pryor. Mrs. Pryor's narrative ... gives a wealth of information, which is essential to the true understanding of history, and in a shape that must charm and delight the reader. Americans who would see the full conditions of the South in its great crisis have been placed under a debt of lasting obligation to the talented author of 'Reminiscences of Peace and War.'"—Philadelphia Public Ledger.

The Birth of the Nation: Jamestown, 1607Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.75 net

"No better book could be found to give a lively impression of the early days of the seventeenth century."—The Outlook.

"She has weighed the reputations of men in the balance, and one feels that her judgment is equally just and sympathetic."—The New York Times.

The Mother of Washington and Her TimesIllustrated. 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 beautiful, particularly the portraits in color."—Boston Transcript.

PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York

PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York

A Selected List of Biographies and AutobiographiesACTON, (Lord) J. E. E.Letters to Mary Gladstone, with Memoir by H. PaulIllustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netALLINGHAM, WILLIAMA DiaryEdited by H. Allingham and D. Radford.Cloth, 8vo, $3.75 netARBLAY, MADAME D'Diary, Life, and Letters of Madame d'ArblayCloth, 8vo, $15.00 netBISMARCKSome Secret Pages of his HistoryBy M. Busch.Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.00 netBROWN,Dr. JOHNLetters of Dr. John BrownEdited by his son and D. W. Forrest.Cloth, 8vo, $4.00 netCHURCHILL, LORD RANDOLPHLife of Lord Randolph ChurchillBy W. Spencer Churchill.Two Volumes. Portraits and Illustrations. 8vo, $9.00 netDUMAS, ALEXANDREMy MemoirsTranslated by E. M. Waller.Six Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, each $1.75 netELLSWORTH, OLIVERThe Life of Oliver EllsworthBy William Garrott Brown.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netEVELYN, JOHNDiary and Correspondence of John EvelynEdited by Austin Dobson.Three Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $8.00 netFRANKLIN, BENJAMINLife and Writings of Benjamin FranklinEdited by A. H. Smyth.Ten Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $15.00 netGLADSTONE, W. E.The Life of W. E. GladstoneBy John Morley.Three Volumes. Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.50 netSame in Half Morocco, $17.50 netHAYNE, ROBERT Y.Robert Y. Hayne and His TimesBy Theodore D. Jervey.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netHOHENLOHE-SCHILLINGSFUERST, PRINCE OFThe Memoirs of Prince Chlodwig of HohenloheAuthorized by Prince Alexander of Hohenlohe. Edited by F. Curtius.Two Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $6.00 netIRVING, SIR HENRYPersonal Reminiscences of Sir Henry IrvingBy Bram Stoker.Two Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 netLINCOLN, ABRAHAMAbraham Lincoln: The Man of the PeopleBy Norman Hapgood.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netAbraham Lincoln: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netO'BRIEN, WILLIAMRecollectionsCloth, 8vo, $3.50 netRIIS, JACOB A.The Making of an AmericanAn Autobiography.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netROOSEVELT, THEODORETheodore Roosevelt: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netSHAKESPEARE, WILLIAMLife of William ShakespeareBy Sidney Lee.Cloth, 12mo, $2.25 netShakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and ManBy Hamilton W. Mabie.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netWESLEY, JOHNThe Life of John WesleyBy Caleb T. Winchester.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.50 netWHIPPLE, HENRY B.Lights and Shadows of a Long EpiscopateCloth, 8vo, $2.50 netWOLFF, (Sir) HENRY D.Rambling RecollectionsTwo Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 netPUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York

ACTON, (Lord) J. E. E.Letters to Mary Gladstone, with Memoir by H. PaulIllustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netALLINGHAM, WILLIAMA DiaryEdited by H. Allingham and D. Radford.Cloth, 8vo, $3.75 netARBLAY, MADAME D'Diary, Life, and Letters of Madame d'ArblayCloth, 8vo, $15.00 netBISMARCKSome Secret Pages of his HistoryBy M. Busch.Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.00 netBROWN,Dr. JOHNLetters of Dr. John BrownEdited by his son and D. W. Forrest.Cloth, 8vo, $4.00 netCHURCHILL, LORD RANDOLPHLife of Lord Randolph ChurchillBy W. Spencer Churchill.Two Volumes. Portraits and Illustrations. 8vo, $9.00 netDUMAS, ALEXANDREMy MemoirsTranslated by E. M. Waller.Six Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, each $1.75 netELLSWORTH, OLIVERThe Life of Oliver EllsworthBy William Garrott Brown.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netEVELYN, JOHNDiary and Correspondence of John EvelynEdited by Austin Dobson.Three Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $8.00 netFRANKLIN, BENJAMINLife and Writings of Benjamin FranklinEdited by A. H. Smyth.Ten Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $15.00 netGLADSTONE, W. E.The Life of W. E. GladstoneBy John Morley.Three Volumes. Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.50 netSame in Half Morocco, $17.50 netHAYNE, ROBERT Y.Robert Y. Hayne and His TimesBy Theodore D. Jervey.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 netHOHENLOHE-SCHILLINGSFUERST, PRINCE OFThe Memoirs of Prince Chlodwig of HohenloheAuthorized by Prince Alexander of Hohenlohe. Edited by F. Curtius.Two Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $6.00 netIRVING, SIR HENRYPersonal Reminiscences of Sir Henry IrvingBy Bram Stoker.Two Volumes. Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 netLINCOLN, ABRAHAMAbraham Lincoln: The Man of the PeopleBy Norman Hapgood.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netAbraham Lincoln: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netO'BRIEN, WILLIAMRecollectionsCloth, 8vo, $3.50 netRIIS, JACOB A.The Making of an AmericanAn Autobiography.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netROOSEVELT, THEODORETheodore Roosevelt: The Boy and the ManBy James Morgan.Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 netSHAKESPEARE, WILLIAMLife of William ShakespeareBy Sidney Lee.Cloth, 12mo, $2.25 netShakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and ManBy Hamilton W. Mabie.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $2.00 netWESLEY, JOHNThe Life of John WesleyBy Caleb T. Winchester.Illustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $1.50 netWHIPPLE, HENRY B.Lights and Shadows of a Long EpiscopateCloth, 8vo, $2.50 netWOLFF, (Sir) HENRY D.Rambling RecollectionsTwo Volumes. Cloth, 8vo, $7.50 net

ACTON, (Lord) J. E. E.Letters to Mary Gladstone, with Memoir by H. PaulIllustrated. Cloth, 8vo, $3.00 net

ALLINGHAM, WILLIAMA DiaryEdited by H. Allingham and D. Radford.Cloth, 8vo, $3.75 net

ARBLAY, MADAME D'Diary, Life, and Letters of Madame d'ArblayCloth, 8vo, $15.00 net

BISMARCKSome Secret Pages of his HistoryBy M. Busch.Portraits. Cloth, 8vo, $10.00 net

BROWN,Dr. JOHNLetters of Dr. John BrownEdited by his son and D. W. Forrest.Cloth, 8vo, $4.00 net

CHURCHILL, LORD RANDOLPHLife of Lord Randolph ChurchillBy W. Spencer Churchill.Two Volumes. Portraits and Illustrations. 8vo, $9.00 net

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FOOTNOTES[1]Rhodes's "History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231et seq.[2]History of James Ford Rhodes,passim.[3]Claiborne's "Seventy Years in Virginia."[4]"Reminiscences of Peace and War,"passim.[5]Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. 21.[6]Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.[7]TheHerald and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.[8]Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.

FOOTNOTES[1]Rhodes's "History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231et seq.[2]History of James Ford Rhodes,passim.[3]Claiborne's "Seventy Years in Virginia."[4]"Reminiscences of Peace and War,"passim.[5]Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. 21.[6]Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.[7]TheHerald and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.[8]Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.

[1]Rhodes's "History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231et seq.

[1]Rhodes's "History of the United States," Vol. I., pp. 231et seq.

[2]History of James Ford Rhodes,passim.

[2]History of James Ford Rhodes,passim.

[3]Claiborne's "Seventy Years in Virginia."

[3]Claiborne's "Seventy Years in Virginia."

[4]"Reminiscences of Peace and War,"passim.

[4]"Reminiscences of Peace and War,"passim.

[5]Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. 21.

[5]Life of Joseph E. Johnston, by Bradley T. Johnson, p. 21.

[6]Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.

[6]Rhodes's "History of the United States," III, p. 175.

[7]TheHerald and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.

[7]TheHerald and Empire, Dayton, Ohio.

[8]Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.

[8]Sherman's "Memoirs," Vol. II, p. 223.

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