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The Project Gutenberg eBook of E. P. Roe:
Reminiscences of his Life
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
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Title: E. P. Roe: Reminiscences of his Life

Author: Mary A. Roe

Release date: May 3, 2011 [eBook #36023]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK E. P. ROE:

REMINISCENCES OF HIS LIFE ***
 The Works of

E · P · ROE

HE FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE

E. P. ROE

REMINISCENCES OF HIS LIFE

BY HIS SISTER, MARY A. ROE

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
PETER FENELON COLLIER & SON
MCM
 E. P. ROE

REMINISCENCES OF HIS LIFE

Copyright, 1899
By Dodd, Mead and Company

INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
Since the death of Edward Payson Roe, in 1888, there have been
inquiries from time to time for some record of his life and work, and
it is in response to these repeated requests that this volume is
issued. While necessarily omitting much that is of too personal a
nature for publication, the editor has allowed the subject of these
Reminiscences to speak for himself as far as possible, although it
has been thought advisable to introduce here and there various
papers from outside sources that seem to throw additional light
upon his character. It is believed that in this way a clearer picture
may be given than would otherwise be obtained of the life of one
who was, perhaps, the most popular American author of his
generation. The editor's own part of the work has been confined to a
simple statement of facts and to supplying connecting links, when
such seemed needed, between the various letters and papers.

Thanks are due, and are hereby offered, to all who have kindly
contributed material or in other ways assisted in the preparation of
this volume.
 CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Boyhood and College Days 1
II. Life as Chaplain 13
III. A Winter Camp 41
IV. Marriage—The Raid toward Richmond 58
V. Hampton Hospital 70
VI. The Hospital Farm and Chapel 85
VII. Pastorate at Highland Falls 95
VIII. Resignation from the Ministry 118
IX. Fruit Culture and Literary Work 124
X. Home Life 137
XI. Santa Barbara 154
XII. Return to Cornwall—Letters 181
XIII. Last Book—Death 194
XIV. An Account of E. P. Roe's Books 218
XV. The Tablet and Memorial Address 231

ILLUSTRATIONS
E. P. Roe at the Time of his Death Frontispiece
TO FACE PAGE
E. P. Roe as a Student 10
E. P. Roe as Chaplain, age 26 38
View from the Piazza at "Roelands" 128
The Study at "Roelands" 152
Tablet on Boulder in "Roe Park" 232

E. P. ROE AT THE TIME OF HIS DEATH.

E. P. ROE
REMINISCENCES OF HIS LIFE
 CHAPTER I

BOYHOOD AND COLLEGE DAYS

My brother Edward and I were the youngest of six children, and as

he was my senior by but a few years we were playmates and almost
inseparable companions in our childhood.

We were born in a roomy old-fashioned house, built by my mother's

father for his oldest son, but purchased by my father when he
retired from business in New York. A more ideal home for a happy
childhood could not easily be found. It stood near the entrance of a
beautiful valley through which flowed a clear stream, and was wind-
sheltered by high bluffs, yet commanded fine views of the mountains
with glimpses of the Hudson showing like lakes between them.

What we called the "side-hill," back of the house, was our chief
playground. My brother delighted in climbing the hickory and
chestnut trees that grew upon it, and it was here in spring that we
searched for wild flowers, from the little hepaticas just peeping
above the snow, to the laurel in its full glory. In after years Edward
never visited the old home without a tramp to the top of that side-
hill or along the wood-road at its base.

Our mother was always an invalid, and the housekeeper, Betsey

Williams, who was a member of our family for many years, became
like a second mother to us in her care and devotion. But she was no
disciplinarian, and I have heard that when Edward was in a childish
passion and she felt unable to cope with the situation she would pick
him up bodily and carry him to my mother's couch. There he would
sit beside her, not daring to move until he could promise obedience,
held spellbound by the authority in her keen black eyes, though she
was too weak to raise her hand to her head.
Edward's love of nature was inherited from both father and mother.
Often, on lovely June days, he would draw mother's wheeled chair
through the broad walks of our large square garden, where the
borders on either side were gorgeous with flowers, while I gathered
and piled the fragrant blossoms on her lap until she was fairly
embowered. Yet one scarcely missed those that were plucked.

Back of the garden ran a clear brook, the overflow from a spring of
soft, cool water at the base of the side-hill, and in it we often played
and tumbled, soaking and soiling many a fresh clean suit.

As is usually the case with younger sisters, I always followed my

brother's lead, and one summer day's adventure in particular stands
clearly in my memory. We little children had started off with the
avowed intention of looking for wild strawberries. We had secretly
planned to visit the old house where my mother was born, which
was some distance farther up the valley and at that time was
unoccupied, but we thought it best not to make any announcement
of this project in advance.

Edward had heard that in the cellar there was a stone vault in which
our Grandfather Williams kept the money that General Washington
had entrusted to his care until it was required to pay off the soldiers
of the Revolution while they were encamped near Newburgh.
Edward was eager to visit the cellar, thinking that possibly there
might still be a few coins left. We entered the empty house by a
back door and wandered through the rooms, he entertaining me the
while with stories mother had told him of her childhood there.

Then we timidly groped our way down into the large cellar and
found the stone vault—but it was filled only with cobwebs and dust!

When we came out and stood in the great kitchen Edward told me
another Revolutionary story connected with the spot in our great-
grandmother's day.
A company of British soldiers had been quartered upon the family,
and the old kitchen swarmed with redcoats and negro servants, for
those were still days of slavery in the North. Grandmother Brewster,
who was a notable cook, had just placed in the heated brick oven a
large baking of bread, pies, and cake. One of the soldiers asked her
if they could have these good things provided they could take them
away without her knowledge, but while she was in the kitchen. She,
believing this impossible, said yes. He waited until everything was
removed from the oven and placed upon a large table to cool.
Suddenly a quarrel arose between several of the soldiers and one of
her favorite colored boys. Fearing the lad would be killed she rushed
into the midst of the crowd and at length succeeded in stopping the
fight. When at last peace and quiet were restored, she turned round
to find her morning's baking gone—and in a moment she understood
the ruse they had practised upon her.

As Edward talked the whole story seemed very real to us, but when
he had finished we walked up to the old oven, and looking into its
cavernous depths he said: "That's here and the stone vault down
cellar, but all those people are dead and gone. How strange and
lonely it seems! Let's go."

Then we hurried off to a field near by which we called "the rose-

patch." Not far from this spot stood formerly an old mill where snuff
was manufactured, and the rose-bushes that in bygone days had
yielded their blossoms to scent the snuff were still living and
flowering. But among the roses was an abundance of wild
strawberries, and the two children soon lost all thoughts of the past
in their enjoyment of the luscious fruit. But the old deserted house
with its Revolutionary associations never ceased to have great
attractions for us. Across the road from it, and nearer the creek, was
a mound of cinders marking the spot where once stood the forge
upon which our grandfather wrought the great iron chain which was
stretched across the Hudson for the purpose of keeping British ships
from sailing beyond it. Some links of this chain are now kept as relics
in the Washington "Headquarters" at Newburgh.

In later years Edward planned to write a story entitled "The Fair

Captives of Brooklyn Heights," embodying some incidents in the lives
of our Grandfather Williams' sisters, who lived there with their
widowed mother. During the Revolution a number of British officers
installed themselves at her house, and the old lady promptly locked
up her daughters in order to prevent any possible love-making. One
of the girls eluded her vigilance, however, married an officer, and
fled with him to Canada. She returned after the war was over, but
her mother, who had never forgiven the deception, refused to
receive her, and she and her husband went to England to live.

In our home at Moodna was always to be found a generous

hospitality. Among our most loved and honored guests was Dr.
Samuel Cox, who was for many years a prominent clergyman in New
York and Brooklyn. My father had been a member of his church and
they were lifelong friends. Often, in summer, he and his family spent
weeks at a time with us, and we children, as well as our elders, were
always charmed listeners to his conversation. He had a fine memory,
and it was remarkably well stored with classic poetry. Sometimes he
would entertain us with selections from the "Iliad," but more often,
when other guests were present and Edward and I were seated on
the piazza steps, on warm moonlight evenings, he would repeat
whole cantos from "Marmion" or "Lady of the Lake," or perhaps
some fine passages from "Paradise Lost."

At times the conversation would turn upon ancient history, and I

remember on one occasion he asked Edward and me if we could
give him the names of the first Roman triumvirate. At this period of
our existence the name "Cæsar" was associated exclusively with an
old colored man whom we often visited and who lived upon a lonely
road which is still called "Cæsar's Lane." We were vastly astonished,
therefore, to learn that the name had ever been borne by any more
illustrious personage than our dusky friend. But we listened,
entranced, while the doctor told of the rivalries and conflicts of those
two great generals, Cæsar and Pompey, for the empire of the world.
He could not remember the name of the third triumvir, and it
troubled him greatly. That night, about two o'clock, I was startled by
a loud knock at my bedroom door, and Dr. Cox called out, "Mary, are
you awake?" I replied that I was—as, indeed, was every one else in
the house by that time. "It's Crassus," he said, then returned to his
room greatly relieved that he had finally recalled the name. Edward
and I never forgot our first lesson in Roman History.

This learned clergyman was often very absent-minded. During one

of his visits to us he had been for a drive with his wife and our
mother. On their return he stopped at the horse-block, near where
Edward and I were playing, threw down the reins, and, engrossed in
some train of thought, walked into the house, utterly forgetful of the
ladies on the back seat. They, very much amused, continued their
conversation and waited to see if he would remember them. Finally,
however, as he did not reappear, Edward was called to assist them
from the carriage and unharness the horse. Some time afterward the
doctor rushed out of the front door and around the house, having
just remembered where he left the companions of his drive.

The first school Edward and I attended was a private one for boys
and girls kept by our eldest brother Alfred, in the village of
Canterbury, two miles distant from our home. We trudged over the
hills together on pleasant days and drove over when the weather
was stormy. I well remember the abnormal interest we felt in the
health of an aunt of ours who lived near the school and who had
some fine fruit trees on her place. After our inquiries in regard to her
welfare had been answered she was sure to invite us to examine the
ground beneath those trees, while the merry twinkle in her eyes
showed appreciation of the fact that our devotion to her was not
altogether disinterested.
Of my brother's later school and college days, the Rev. A. Moss
Merwin, now of Pasadena, California, writes:—

"It was at Cornwall-on-the-Hudson I first met Edward, a fellow

student in his brother Alfred's classical school. His face and manners
were attractive, and intellectually he ranked high among his
companions. Well informed as to current events, with a wider
knowledge of books than is usual with young men of his years, and
with great facility in expressing his thoughts orally and in writing, he
commanded our respect from the first. And when we saw from time
to time articles from his pen in the New York Evangelist descriptive
of stirring events, our respect grew into admiration for him who was
facile princeps in our small literary world. Then as we came to know
something of his kindness of heart and enthusiasm for the good and
true we loved him.

"His particular friends among the boarding pupils enjoyed the

privilege of being invited occasionally to the hospitable home of his
parents. What a home it was! Abundant comfort without ostentation
or luxury. The father a retired business man, kindly, philanthropic,
and an ardent lover of plants and flowers. The mother an invalid in
her wheeled chair, a woman with sunshine in eye and voice, of
unusual intelligence, highly cultivated, with charming conversational
powers.

"In the little Presbyterian church near the school, planted mainly
through the exertions of his father and elder brothers, there came a
time of special religious interest when Edward was deeply
impressed. With loving purpose he sought out two of his most
intimate companions, and through his instrumentality they then
began the Christian life. One became a successful business man in
Chicago, and to the day of his death remembered with gratitude the
helping hand and earnest words of E. P. Roe. The other friend
remembers that soon after that decision, when he and Edward were
walking through the grounds of the Friends' meeting-house, they
covenanted together to study for the ministry.

"We were together again preparing for college at Burr and Burton
Seminary, Manchester, Vermont. How enthusiastic he was over the
beautiful scenery of that now far-famed summer resort in the Green
Mountains! How delighted to send his father a present through his
own earnings by sawing several cords of wood!"

About this time our father's property in New York City was destroyed
by fire, and owing to the expense of rebuilding he was obliged for a
time to practise close economy. But fortunately it was not found
necessary to take any of his children from school or college. To
quote Mr. Merwin further:—

"At Williams College we saw much of each other. Roe was a fair
scholar, more intent at getting at the meaning of the text, and its
mythological and historical relations, than in making what is called a
fair recitation. His ability as a writer and speaker was recognized
early in his college course when elected speaker of his class at a
Washington's Birthday banquet. Friends he easily made, and with
many remained in pleasant relations to the close of his life. Trouble
with his eyes caused him to shorten his course at college, but the
authorities, in view of his subsequent success as a writer, gave him
his diploma."

My brother excelled in athletic sports in his youth, particularly in

swimming and skating. On one occasion when he was home on
vacation, he and a young companion were skating on the river. His
friend, who was skimming along in advance of him, suddenly fell into
an air-hole and sank out of sight. Edward instantly realized that if he
went to the spot to rescue him, he also would break through. With
quick presence of mind, therefore, he unwound a long worsted
muffler from his neck and threw one end of it into the opening. As
soon as the struggling boy rose to the surface, Edward shouted,
"Take hold of that tippet and I'll pull you out!" His friend did as he
was directed and Edward, by exerting all his strength, succeeded in
drawing him out of the water and upon the solid ice, fortunately not
much the worse for his immersion.

Adjoining our father's property was that of Mr. Nathaniel Sands, a

"Friend" and a gentleman in all that the words imply, who was loved
and respected by the whole community. His residence commanded
an extended view of the river and mountains and especially of the
narrow Gap of the Highlands. At his death the old homestead
became the summer residence of his eldest son, Dr. David Sands,
the head of a well-known firm of druggists in New York.

While my brother was at the theological seminary, and just about the
beginning of the Civil War, he became engaged to Dr. Sands' second
daughter, Anna. The young people had known each other from
childhood, and this happy culmination of their long friendship was
not unexpected by either family.
 CHAPTER II

LIFE AS CHAPLAIN

One of Edward's schoolmates at Cornwall, writing of him, said: "We

met again on a most memorable evening in the early days of the
war, when with two young ladies, one of whom became his wife, we
rowed out on the Hudson River, under the shadow of Storm King,
while the whole sky from west to east flamed with crimson-tinted
clouds, that seemed a portent of the scenes to follow. When we
reached the dock on our return the evening papers brought the
details of the battle of Bull Run, fought on the previous day."

I remember Edward's intense excitement on his return home that

night, and his remark that if he were only through his seminary
course he would join the army as chaplain. From that time I believe
the purpose was constantly in his mind; and the next year, 1862,
although his studies were not then completed, he became chaplain
of the famous Harris Light Cavalry, under the command of the
gallant Kilpatrick, later Brigadier and Major General, who was always
my brother's firm friend.

The following testimony to Edward's work among the soldiers was

written upon the field by a correspondent of the New York Tribune.

"Chaplain Roe, of the Second New York (Harris Light)

Cavalry, is a man whose praises are in the mouth of every
one for timely and efficient services. He is always with the
regiment, and his whole time is devoted to the temporal
and spiritual welfare of the men. He is their friend, adviser,
 and counsellor, and commands the respect of all who know
him—something that cannot be said of every chaplain in
the army."

E. P. ROE AS A STUDENT.

The Observer of that year also published a letter written by a private

in the Harris Light Cavalry to his parents. In it is found this reference
to their chaplain.

"To-day is Sunday, and, as a great exception, it has

appeared like Sunday. This morning we had service at
 headquarters, the chaplain of our regiment officiating, and
I think I can safely call him a pious army chaplain, which I
cannot say of any others that I ever knew; and
notwithstanding the little respect most chaplains have
shown to them, and still less encouragement, this one, by
his mild, gentle, manly, humble, and Christian-like
demeanor, has won the respect of all with whom he has
had intercourse, from the most profane and vulgar to the
most gentlemanly, which few chaplains have been able to
do. In a fight he is seen encouraging the men; in the
hospital administering to the soldier's wants, both
spiritually and bodily. Last winter, during the worst days of
a Virginia winter, I have seen him going from camp to
camp, distributing his books and papers; and with his own
earnings he would buy delicacies that a poor sick soldier
would otherwise in vain long for. These and other
innumerable like acts have gradually caused every one to
at least respect him, and some to love him. His name is
Rev. E. P. Roe, Chaplain Harris Light Cavalry. I have been
informed that he had just graduated when he came into
the army. I think Dr. P—— may know him. I believe he is a
Presbyterian. If you had any idea what a chaplain had to
contend with, in order to lead a consistent life, you might
then understand why I speak so of him.

"S."

While with this regiment Edward acted as weekly correspondent for

the New York Evangelist. A few of his letters to that paper are here
reprinted, in the hope that they may still be found of interest. They
are characteristic of the writer and give a clearer idea of his life at
this time than can be obtained in any other way.

"Camp Hall's Hill, Oct. 15, 1862.

"Messrs. Editors:—Till within a few days past we have been
enjoying splendid weather, days as warm and sunny as
those of June, and moonlight nights so clear and beautiful
that one could sit at his tent door and read ordinary type
with perfect ease and pleasure. Of course we improved
such favourable weather and held our prayer-meetings
nearly every night. I shall never forget one religious service
that we had last week.

"As usual a large fire was kindled in front of the chaplain's

tent, and the men, having disposed of their suppers, were
beginning to assemble. Soon the musical "church-call"
sounded to hasten the lagging ones, and by the time our
exercises commenced about two hundred were present.
Our meetings are of a free and general character, open to
all who are willing to take part in them. We commence by
singing two or three hymns or patriotic songs in
succession, the sound of music calling the men together. A
prayer is then offered, after which I endeavor by some
anecdote or illustration to force home the truth and
necessity of a Saviour upon the minds of those present.
The Christian members of the regiment then follow in
prayer, singing, and exhortation, till we are dispersed by
the roll-call. We have interruptions in this, our usual
programme, of such a nature, and with such frequency,
that we have great reason to be thankful and encouraged.
They are occasioned by the stepping forth of soldiers in
front of the fire who have hitherto been silent in our
meetings, and who either ask the prayers of Christians that
they may be led to the Saviour, or calmly and firmly state
their intention to enlist under the banner of the Cross, and
urge their comrades to do likewise.

"Towards the close of the service I have mentioned, three

young men rose up together, and calmly and firmly one