I was smitten2 to the heart! When I repeated this to his father, he declared, "He shall!" And within a few months a scholarship at Princeton was found and promised, provided the boy could pass a creditable entrance examination.
The little man went up alone early one morning to meet his fate. He returned at night. "And did you enter?" we exclaimed. Very calmly he answered: "They were very kind to me at Princeton. I was examined at some length, and I shall enter the junior class."
When I packed his small trunk for his collegiate 344life, I found I had little to put into it—little more than my tears! His first report read, "In a class of eighty-three he stands first."
He maintained this standing3 for two years. The class included bearded men who had been prepared thoroughly4 in the best preparatory schools. Theo had received less than two years at Mr. Gordon McCabe's school. All the rest of his time he had given to study, alone, and unassisted.
A day came in Petersburg when he, perceiving the necessities of his family, had sold his beloved rifle for $40. Out of that sum he reserved for himself $2, and returned home with a work on advanced mathematics under his arm.
He was a perfect boy. If he ever thought wrongly, I cannot tell—I know he never did wrong. Personally, he was as beautiful as he was good—clear-eyed, serene5, with a grand air. "For the future of one of my children," I was wont6 to say, "I have no fear. Theo will always be fortunate." It was said of him by President McCosh that he was "preternaturally gifted mentally." He always acquired knowledge with perfect ease. He studied and read whatever his father studied or read—politics, literature, and even military tactics. In the latter he was so proficient7 that when a little lad in linen8 blouses, the regiments9 at Smithfield would mount him on a stand and make him drill the companies.
Theodorick Bland10 Pryor.
At the end of his collegiate life he wrote: "The professors have been so good as to give me the first honor and also the mathematical scholarship." 345This scholarship required him to study at least one year in an English university. Accordingly, in the following autumn he was sent, through President McCosh's advice, to St. Peters, Cambridge University. He was just nineteen when he graduated.
He was too young and inexperienced to be a good manager, and soon perceived that his $1000 would not carry him through his year. A prize of a Cambridge scholarship and $40 was offered. He worked for it and won it—binding wet towels around his tired brain as he worked.
I remember one lovely June afternoon, which melted into a perfect moonlight evening. My little girls, attired11 in white, listened to the home music,—Roger, with his violin, accompanied by his mother on the piano my dear Aunt Mary had bequeathed to Gordon. A hasty ring at the door, a rush of eager steps, and Theo was in my arms! We thought him lovely. His father proudly marked his fine air and, with amusement, the delicate hint of a rising inflection in his voice. Never were people so glad and proud. Once more we were all together.
He decided12 not to return to England, although his masters at Cambridge wrote him assuring him that, although he "could not win a fellowship without becoming a naturalized British subject," yet he would "ultimately take an excellent degree." He entered the Columbia Law School, that he might fit himself to be his father's partner.
In October he was called to a higher court. One warm evening he walked out "to cool off before sleeping," and we never saw him more! 346 The tides bore his beautiful body to us nine days after we lost him, and his beloved Alma Mater claimed it. There he lies in the section reserved for the presidents and professors of the University—side by side with the ashes of the Edwards and the Alexanders that await with him the great awakening13. His classmates sent to Virginia for a shaft14 of granite15, and upon this stone is inscribed16: "In commemoration of his virtues17, genius, and scholarship, and in enduring testimony18 of our love, this monument is erected20 by his classmates."
Of him a great future was expected. "He was," said one of the journals of the time, "one of the most gifted minds that Virginia ever produced. America probably had not his superior. Only twenty years at the time of his death, his powerful and mature intellect gave assurance of any position his ambition might covet21. He was always first, and easily first, in any school, academy, or college that he entered. His powers were indeed marvellous. Proud of being a Virginian, his loss to the state, to the country indeed, is irreparable. In arms and in statesmanship Virginia has nothing to covet,—in letters a new field of glory awaits her. Pryor, foremost in that field, would have filled it with the lustre22 of his fame. Oh! what a loss, what a loss!"
There is a peculiar23 bitterness in the early blighting24 of such powers. But although the laurel was so soon snatched from his brow, he had already worked nobly and achieved greatly. He had done more in his short life than the most of us during a long life. Whether the end came through the 347hand of violence, or from accident, he could approach "the Great Secret" as did John Sterling25, "without a thought of fear and with very much of hope." Such as he confirm our faith in immortality26 and make heaven lovelier to our thought.
He was a victim of his father's fallen fortunes. Now, surely, Nemesis27 must be satisfied! Innocent of crime, we had yet suffered full measure for the crime of the nation. Others had been called to give up their first-born sons. We had now given up ours! Was it not enough? All the joy of life was forever ended. Hereafter one bitter memory intensified28 every pang29, poisoned every pleasure,—so clearly did our great bereavement30 seem to grow out of our misfortunes,—and all these to be the sequence of cruel, terrible, wicked war.
But why should I ask my readers to listen while I press, "like Philomel, my heart against a thorn!" We can change nothing in our lives. We must bear the lot ordained31 for us! We need not ask others to suffer with us! Grosse seelen dulden still!
The story I am telling must end not later than the year 1900—and I find no fitting place for a brief tribute to another brilliant son whom we lost after that year, unless my readers will forgive me for a word just here. I leave the splendid record of his services as a physician and surgeon, where it is safe to live—in the memories of his brethren at home and abroad. "Pryor's practice" is still quoted in England and France as the salvation32 of suffering 348womanhood. But other records are written on the hearts of the poor and humble33. "Many a night," said one of his hospital confrères, "with the East River full of ice, and snow and sleet34 pelting35 straight in his face, Dr. William Pryor has crossed in a rowboat to see some poor waif at Blackwell's Island upon whom he had operated,—carrying with him some delicacy36 the hospital diet-sheet did not afford."
He was most richly endowed, physically37 and mentally, and he gave to suffering humanity all that God had given him.
I resolved, when I consented to write this book, that I would not intrude38 my own feelings and emotions upon those who are kind enough to read my story. I know, alas39, I am not the only one upon whom the tower of Siloam has fallen. We are divinely forbidden to believe ourselves more unworthy than those who escape such disaster.
"The Thorny40 Path," a painting by P. Stachiewicz, represents women toiling41 along a perilous42 path. On one side is a high, barren rock; on the other a ghastly precipice43. Safety lies only in the narrow path, uneven44 with slippery stones and thick-set with cruel thorns. Two women are central figures in the procession: one, ragged45 and drunken and cursing her lot, reels unsteadily against the flinty wall; another treads the same path with bent46 head, and hands clasped in prayer. A white "robe of righteousness" has descended47 upon the latter, and celestial48 light surrounds her head, albeit49 the pilgrim feet are unshod and torn with thorns. 349
William Rice Pryor.
Sometimes a song or picture has taught us more than many sermons. When Christine Nilsson, standing firm and erect19 with upward look, sang "I KNOW," we were thrilled and surprised into a vivid faith, which had burned with less fervor50 under the teaching of the pulpit. We had believed, but now we felt that we knew, that the Redeemer lives and will stand in the latter day upon the earth, and feeling this, we were comforted.
点击收听单词发音
1 craved | |
渴望,热望( crave的过去式 ); 恳求,请求 | |
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2 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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3 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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4 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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5 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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6 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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7 proficient | |
adj.熟练的,精通的;n.能手,专家 | |
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8 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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9 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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10 bland | |
adj.淡而无味的,温和的,无刺激性的 | |
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11 attired | |
adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服,使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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13 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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14 shaft | |
n.(工具的)柄,杆状物 | |
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15 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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16 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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17 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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18 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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19 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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20 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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21 covet | |
vt.垂涎;贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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22 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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23 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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24 blighting | |
使凋萎( blight的现在分词 ); 使颓丧; 损害; 妨害 | |
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25 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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26 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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27 nemesis | |
n.给以报应者,复仇者,难以对付的敌手 | |
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28 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
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30 bereavement | |
n.亲人丧亡,丧失亲人,丧亲之痛 | |
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31 ordained | |
v.任命(某人)为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 );授予(某人)圣职;(上帝、法律等)命令;判定 | |
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32 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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33 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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34 sleet | |
n.雨雪;v.下雨雪,下冰雹 | |
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35 pelting | |
微不足道的,无价值的,盛怒的 | |
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36 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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37 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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38 intrude | |
vi.闯入;侵入;打扰,侵扰 | |
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39 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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40 thorny | |
adj.多刺的,棘手的 | |
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41 toiling | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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42 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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43 precipice | |
n.悬崖,危急的处境 | |
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44 uneven | |
adj.不平坦的,不规则的,不均匀的 | |
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45 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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46 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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47 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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48 celestial | |
adj.天体的;天上的 | |
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49 albeit | |
conj.即使;纵使;虽然 | |
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50 fervor | |
n.热诚;热心;炽热 | |
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