USA > Massachusetts > Suffolk County > Boston > The story of the Irish in Boston, together with biographical sketches of representative men and noted women > Part 23
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MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE.
Mary Elizabeth M'Grath was born in Dungarvan, County Water- ford, Ireland, in 1840. In 1849 she came with her parents to Quincy, Mass., where her father started the since well-known M'Grath marble works. Her father was a man of scholarly tastes and extensive reading, and his daughter received most of her early education at home. Later, she made the regular course at the Quincy High School, attended George B. Emerson's private school in Boston for a few years, and finally devoted some years to music and the languages at the Academy of the Sacred Heart, Manhattanville, N.Y. In 1865 she was married to Dr. John G. Blake, of Boston.
While Mrs. Blake was still in her teens, her graceful poems and sketches, contributed to "The Pilot" over the pen-name of " Marie," attracted much favorable notice. A little later, the Boston " Gazette," then under the editorship of P. B. Shillaber, secured her promising pen. She wrote also for " The Transcript " and other Boston dailies. She scored an immediate success with her "Rambling Talks," in "The Boston Journal." These have since become one of the most popular features of that paper.
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But Mrs. Blake is preeminently a poet, with a very sweet and distinct voice, akin to none of the American sisterhood of singers, except, perhaps, Mrs. Sarah M. B. Piatt. Her poems for children, most of which appeared first in the " Wide Awake," have made " M. E. B." a dear name and & familiar in thousands of American homes.
We find among Mrs. Blake's collected poems a cluster on which her poetic fame might safely rest, albeit they were penned with no thought of fame, and their author, like many another, but sang to ease her sorrow. They are the poems evoked by the great and in- effaceable grief of her young motherhood, the deaths of three lovely children within a week. The cluster is named, "In Sorrow," and the tears of bereaved mothers whose hearts have yearned to the author through fellowship of desolation is their all-sufficing eulogy. We quote : -
A DEAD SUMMER.
What lacks the summer?
Not roses blowing, Nor tall white lilies with fragrance rife, Nor green things gay with the bliss of growing,
Nor glad things drunk with the wine of life,
Nor flushing of cloud in blue skies shining,
Nor soft wind murmurs to rise and fall,
Nor birds for singing, nor vines for twining, - Three little buds I miss, no more, That blossomed last year at my garden door, - And that is all.
What lacks the summer? Not waves a-quiver With arrows of light from the hand of dawn, Nor drooping of boughs by the dimpling river, Nor nodding of grass on the windy lawn, Nor tides upswept upon silver beaches, Nor rustle of leaves on tree-tops tall, Nor dapple of shade in woodland reaches, - Life pulses gladly on vale and hill, But three little hearts that I love are still, - And that is all.
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What lacks the summer?
Oh, light and savor, And message of healing the world above !
Gone is the old-time strength and flavor, Gone is the old-time peace and love, Gone is the bloom of the shimmering meadows, Music of birds as they sweep and fall, -
All the great world is dim with shadows, Because no longer mine eyes can see The eyes that made summer and life for me, -- And that is all.
The later development of Mrs. Blake's poetic gift, as shown in her " Wendell Phillips," written by invitation of the city of Boston for his memorial in 1884; "How Ireland Answered," and " Women of the Revolution," both in 1885, - reveal splendid strength and fervor. Mrs. Blake was the poet of the Golden Jubilee celebration of the Sis- ters of Charity in 1882, and of the Catholic Union's Festival in honor of Pope Pius IX. in 1873. Here is a poem of Mrs. Blake's, a favorite at Irish patriotic festivals, reproduced hundreds of times in Irish publications, which cannot be omitted from this sketch. She calls it
OUR RECORD.
Who casts a slur on Irish worth, a stain on Irish fame? Who dreads to own his Irish blood, or wear his Irish name? Who scorns the warmth of Irish hearts, the clasp of Irish hands? Let us but raise the veil to-night and shame him as he stands.
The Irish fame! It rests enshrined within its own proud light, Wherever sword, or tongue, or pen has fashioned deed of might ; From battle-charge of Fontenoy to Grattan's thunder tone, It holds its storied past on high, unrivalled and alone.
The Irish blood ! Its crimson tide has watered hill and plain Wherever there were wrongs to crush, or freeman's rights to gain ; No dastard thought, no coward fear, has held it tamely by When there were noble deeds to do, or noble deaths to die !
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The Irish heart ! the Irish heart! God keep it fair and free ; The fulness of its kindly thought, its wealth of honest glee, Its generous strength, its ardent faith, its uncomplaining trust, Though every worshipped idol breaks and crumbles into dust.
And Irish hands, - aye, lift them up, embrowned by honest toil, The champions of our Western World, the guardians of the soil! When flashed their battle-swords aloft, a waiting world might see What Irish hands could do and dare to keep a nation free.
They bore our starry flag above through bastion, gate, and wall ; They stood before the foremost rank, the bravest of them all ; And when before the cannon's mouth they held the foe at bay, Oh, never could old Ireland's heart beat prouder than that day!
So when a craven fain would hide the birth-mark of his race, Or slightly speak of Erin's sons before her children's face, Breathe no weak word of scorn or shame, but crush him where he stands With Irish worth and Irish fame as won by Irish hands.
Mrs. Blake's prose is clear, picturesque, and vivacious. She is a favorite contributor both of prose and poetry to the New York "Independent," "Catholic World," "Ladies' Home Journal," of Philadelphia, " Wide-Awake," " St. Nicholas," Providence " Journal," Chicago "Herald," and other publications. Her pub- lished works include: "Poems," Houghton, Mifflin, & Co., 1882; "On the Wing," Lee, Shepard, & Co., the outcome of a tour to California, 1883; "The Merry Months All," 1885; "Youth in Twelve Centuries," D. Lothrop & Co., 1886, -the two last-named are children's poems; " Mexico: Picturesque, Political, Progres- sive," Lee, Shepard, & Co., 1888, which she wrote in conjunction with Mrs. Margaret F. Sullivan, of Chicago, after a sojourn in our neighbor republic which they made together. With this same devoted friend Mrs. Blake is, at present writing, making a five months' tour of Europe.
Mrs. Blake's well-ordered and happy home is a standing refutation of the absurd old notion that a woman of letters is of necessity a failure in the higher office of wife and mother. In place of the portrait, which the editor of this volume regrets to
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have been unable to secure, the following pen-picture of Mrs. Blake, from the faithful and tender hand of her friend above- named, is given : -
"Here is a face that one must linger on, pale but healthful, with a pair of brown riddles for eyes, the love in them chasing the laughter, and both love and laughter very deep in their liquid depths. Keen sensibility beneath habitual reserve, internal heat and exterior fri- gidity, humor that must be rollicking when relaxed, and imagination that must be superb when freed from restraint. The studious ex- pression bespeaks power of concentration; the quick flashes of sensi- bility betray the hidden vivacity, and there is a deft mingling of gravity, satire, and levity on the face that would have made one ask who the lady is."
Our sketch fitly closes with this poem, one of the best Mrs. Blake ever wrote : -
HOW IRELAND ANSWERED.
A TRADITION OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
Wheresoe'er in song or story Runs one theme of ancient glory,
Wheresoe'er in word or action lives one spark for Freedom's shrine, Read it out before the people, Ring it loud in street and steeple,
Till the hearts of those who listen thrill beneath its power divine !
And, as lives immortal, gracious, The great deed of young Horatius,
Or that gauntlet of defiance flung by Tell in Gessler's face, So for him who claims as sireland The green hills of holy Ireland,
- Let the speech of old John Parnell speak its lesson to his race.
'Twas in days when, sore tormenting, With a malice unrelenting,
England pushed her youngest step-child past endurance into strife, "Til with weak, frail hands uplifted - With but hate and courage gifted -
She began the desperate struggle that should end in death - or life.
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'Twas the fourth long year of fighting ; Want and woe and famine, biting, Nipped the heart-strings of " the Rebels," chilled their pulse with cold despair ; Southern swamp and Northern mountain Fed full streams to war's red fountain,
And the gloom of hopeless struggle darkened all the heavy air.
Lincoln's troops in wild disorder, Beaten on the Georgian border ;
Fivescore craft, off Norfolk harbor, scuttled deep beneath the tide ; Hessian thieves, in swaggering sallies, Raiding fair New England valleys ; While before Savannah's trenches brave Pulaski, fighting, died !
Indian allies war-whoops raising, Where Wyoming's roofs are blazing ; Clinton, full of pomp and bluster, sailing down on Charleston ; And the people, faint with striving, Worn with aimless, sad contriving, Tired at last of Freedom's battle, heedless if 'tis lost or won !
Shall now England pause in mercy, When the frozen plains of Jersey,
Tracked with blood, show pathways trodden by bare feet of wounded men? When the drained and tortured nation Holds no longer gold or ration To upbuild her broken fortune, or to fill her veins again?
Nay! but striking swift and surely, Now to gain the end securely,
Stirring asks for reinforcements - volunteers to speed the cause ; And King George, in mandate royal, Speeds amid his subjects loyal, Calls for dutiful assistance to avenge his outraged laws.
In the name of law and order, Sends across the Irish border To the wild and reckless spirits of whose daring well he knows : " Ho! brave fools who fight for pleasure ! Here is chance for fame and treasure ; Teach those brazen Yankee devils the full force of Irish blows!"
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Old John Parnell, cool and quiet, - Strange result on Celtic diet, - Colonel he of volunteers, and well-beloved chief of men, Reads the royal proclamation, Answers for himself and nation - Ye who heed the voice of honor, list the ringing words again : .
"Still, as in her ancient story, Ireland fights for right and glory ; Still her sons, through blood and danger, hold unstained their old renown; But by God who reigneth o'er me, By the Motherland that bore me, Never Irish gold or valor helps to strike a patriot down!"
Thus, 'mid themes immortal, gracious, Like the deed of young Horatius,
Or that gauntlet of defiance flung by Tell in Gessler's face, Let the Celt who claims as sireland The green hills of holy Ireland, Place the speech of old John Parnell, for the glory of his race.
KATHERINE ELEANOR CONWAY.
Katherine Eleanor Conway was born in Rochester, N.Y., of Irish parents. Her father was a bridge-builder and railroad contractor, and active in the politics of his city and State. Her mother was a home-keeper and book-lover, and the environment of the childhood of the subject of this sketch was eminently conducive to early mental development and intelligent interest in public affairs.
She studied successively in the schools of the Sisters of Charity and the Nuns of the Sacred Heart, in her native city, completing her course at St. Mary's Academy, Buffalo, N.Y. One of her teachers in this last-named school was an English lady, a convert, who had come into the Church on the high tide of the Tractarian movement. She was a singularly gifted woman, accomplished, earnest, who had known personally many of the famous people of the Dickens- Thackeray era; and the glimpses she gave her young pupil into that golden time was a not-to-be-forgotten delight. She encouraged
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Katherine to write, - indeed, her first published work (1868) was done in school, when she was about fifteen years of age.
For several years thereafter she did reportorial work, verses, sketches, etc., for the Rochester " Daily Union," and correspondence for several New York papers. All this was more in the line of in- stinctive out-reaching, than the expression of any definite plan or purpose. She found at this time a judicious and helpful friend in Bishop M'Quaid, of Rochester, who, noting the aspiration, rather than the accomplishment, in some of the young girl's published work, opened his library to her, and by practical direction and suggestion greatly influenced the development of her aptitudes and the deter- mination of her life-work.
From 1873-78 she edited in Rochester a little Catholic maga- zine, the "West End Journal." Serious family reverses occurring between these dates threw her on her own resources, and her ready pen became by degrees a source of revenue. She was for several years teacher of rhetoric and literature in the Normal School of Nazareth Convent, Rochester, and a contributor of short stories to the Philadelphia "Catholic Record " and various New York story papers and magazines.
From 1878 till 1883 - with one short break - she was assistant editor on the "Catholic Union and Times," of Buffalo, N.Y. In 1883 she accepted a position on the editorial staff of " The Pilot," of Boston, where she has since remained.
Her purely literary work includes a volume of poems, "On the Sunrise Slope," brought out by the Catholic Publication Society Company, of New York, in 1881, and quite successful. In 1886 she edited for Mrs. Clara Erskine Clement, the art writer, " Christian Symbols and Stories of the Saints," published by Ticknor & Co., of Boston. This work has gone through several editions, winning warm approval from high Catholic authorities, and a recognition of marked and unusual kindness even from Pope Leo XIII., to whom a copy was presented near the time of his Golden Jubilee.
Miss Conway has contributed literary criticisms, personal sketches, etc., to the Providence " Journal," Buffalo "Courier," and
Yours Simusely Katherine Eleanor Conway
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other papers, besides doing much anonymous work in the way of book editing and compiling. In journalism she is accounted an adaptable and persistent worker. J. W. De Forest, the novelist and poet, says of her poems, that they are all marked by refreshing earnestness and sincerity; and not a few of them by wonderful passion, energy, and condensation.
Miss Conway was the first Catholic to address the Women's Educational and Industrial Union, of Boston, -a society, non-secta- rian, it is true, but with a membership almost entirely Protestant. In- vited a year ago to prepare a paper on a distinctly Catholic theme, she chose " The Blessed Among Women," setting forth to her hearers the place of the Blessed Virgin in the Catholic Church, the grounds of Catholic devotion to her, her influence on the elevation of woman- hood, on poetry, art, music. The paper was exceedingly well received, and attracted general attention, at the time, for the novelty of the attendant circumstances. Later, the same society invited Miss Conway to address them again, and, under the head of "Some Christian Ideas," to explain the Catholic understanding of the Church Idea. This paper was even more widely noticed than the preceding one, and the author was requested to repeat it before several societies, both Catholic and non-Catholic. A new paper, "The Ideals of Christian Womanhood," written for the Boston Catholic Union, has been engaged also for several other associations.
Miss Conway is a member of the executive council of the New England Woman's Press Club, and chairman of its literary committee.
She is not more remarkable for her mental qualities than for their large balance and proportion. Her poetic gift, inborn and dominant, leaves her no less a woman of action, a natural helper, a publicist, - one with whom all clan feelings are intense, and in whom no outer sympathy is lacking. With her habits of consistency and justice, her perfect temper, her zealous, aggressive pen, she has one distinct Grecian trait, - the love for organization, and the personality which fits it and succeeds best through it. During her few journal- istic years in Boston she has made herself a place, special, and yet markedly representative, and has worked, with gracious modesty, for
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every good cause within reach. Though Miss Conway is too busy to delight us often with her thoughtful and thrilling poetry, yet she is very blessed in "a deedful life," incapable of any but the highest and gentlest ideals, and which, in itself, makes an eloquence and a music of every day.
The appended poem is fairly representative : -
OUT OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
IRELAND, 1800-1885.
"She died from you," they said, "in the flush of her bridal bloom." But they lied with their hearts and lips - beloved, thou could'st not die! They lured thee out of my arms, and shut thee alive in the tomb,
And guarded with fire and sword the place of thine agony.
And they laughed but yester-eve, in their cruel strength and scorn, Saying, "Still through the years he seeks her -- O fondest, faithfullest ! And still are fools to follow his beck on a hope forlorn,
And never a one a-weary - and oh, the idle quest!"
Did they dream their swords could sunder the bonds of soul to soul? Or that flames could daunt my purpose, though lit from the central Hell? Ah, they thought I grieved like a man - that time would ease my dole, With a new fair face forgetting what late I loved so well !
They knew me not - changeless, deathless, what time with heart grief riven, For thee in mortal seeming the paths of pain I trod -
But I am Freedom - Freedom -and I've stood in the highest heaven, With the seven armored angels who guard the throne of God.
Courage, mine own, nor falter, but hold for thy life to me- Look not back where the flames and the swords and the serpents were - Look up! for yon stars are the souls of the men who died for thee, Crushed under the stone they would roll from the door of thy sepulchre.
Ah, me! but thy face is wan, and thy sweet eyes dimmed with tears, And the soul on thy pale lips flutters as if it were fain to flee- Ah, God ! for thy years of waiting -thy tortured, murdered years - Ere I rent thy tomb and fled through the Valley of Death with thee!
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But oh! for our journey's end, and home, and the light of dawn,
And the sweet green earth, the bird-singing, the balm of the soft sea air- Oh, to hold thee close to my heart till the chill of the grave is gone,
And kiss thy lips and thy hands and the strands of thy long fair hair !
Courage, mine own, nor falter, but cling for thy life to me - Hear the home-welcoming music, nor faint nor far away - And the conquering Cross ablaze in the heavens above us - see !
We are out of the Shadow of Death - but one step more to the day!
MARY CATHERINE CROWLEY.
Mary Catherine Crowley is a native of Boston, and of a family prominent in its early and later Irish Catholic history. On her moth- er's side she is descended from the historic Scotch family of Cameron, of Lochiel and Lundavra. Miss Crowley's early education was con- ducted at home. Later she attended the Academy of Notre Dame, Roxbury, Mass., and finally made the full course at the Academy of the Sacred Heart, Manhattanville, where her mother and aunts had also been educated.
Miss Crowley's literary career began about four years ago. She was fortunate in reaching her public at once through excellent mediums. We find her early work in the " Catholic World," the " Pilot," and the " Wide Awake." She figures also in that rather famous nursery of young talent, Father Russell's " Irish Monthly," and is a contributor of short stories to the " M'Clure Syndicate." Still later she appears in the " St. Nicholas," the " Ave Maria," the "Ladies' Home Journal," of Philadelphia, as an occasional corre- spondent of the New York " Freeman," and other Catholic publica- tions. Her poems are graceful and musical, her prose sketches and stories sprightly and delicate, while certain of her frequent anony- mous contributions to the Boston press on household, social, and educational topics reveal real thought, sound sense, and breadth of mind, and a capacity for terse and direct expression.
It is, however, as a writer of children's stories that Miss Crowley seems thus far destined to make her highest reputation. There is
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a superstition that any woman who can write at all ought to be able to write acceptably for children. Few realize that those characters are rare indeed that attain womanhood keeping the fragrance of their childhood still about them, and holding the clue whereby they can wander back at will to the lovely, innocent world of the child-heart. Miss Crowley is one of the fortunate few. Her first ventures, begun little more than a year ago in the line of stories from real life for children of to-day, were immediately successful. In response to a widely expressed demand, she gathered a few of these together from the pages of the "Ave Maria" and the " Ladies' Home Journal," and issued them in book form, under the title of " Merry Hearts and True," from the press of D. & J. Sadlier & Co., New York City. This charming little book had the unusual good fortune to go into its second edition the week it was published. Miss Crowley is at work on another volume of short stories, which will probably be ready for the Christmas holidays. There is evidently a very success- ful career before her in a department of literature where compara- tively few succeed.
Miss Crowley is well versed in French, Spanish, and German; is a brilliant musician, and gifted with all in character and acquire- ment that makes a woman attractive in home-life and society.
K. E. C.
Jours Cordially May Catherine Crowley
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF
BOSTON LAWYERS.
1
SKETCHES OF BOSTON LAWYERS.
AHERIN, JOHN H. P., lawyer, born in Boston, April 11, 1858. He was educated at St. Mary's Parochial School, graduated in 1872, and was employed as clerk in the office of the Registry of Deeds until 1877. He studied law in the office of Mr. F. W. Kit- tredge, and later became the conveyancer of Messrs. Crowley & Maxwell, with whom he remained until October, 1885, when he en- tered the Boston University Law School. He graduated in 1886, and was admitted to the Suffolk bar in June of the same year, and afterwards established himself in prac- tice
BARLOW, JAMES P., lawyer, born in North Easton, Mass., Feb. 22, 1863. He was edu- cated in the public schools of that town, and was a graduate of the North Easton High School, June 28, 1879, and the Boston Uni- versity Law School, May 28, 1886. He was admitted to the bar July 20, 1886, and began the practice of his profession in Boston, July, 1887. He ranks among the very young but promising lawyers in this vicinity.
BARRY, THOMAS J., lawyer, born in South Boston, January 1, 1857. He graduated from the Lawrence Grammar School in 1869, and the English High School in 1873. He attended Comer's Commercial College and Holy Cross College. He afterwards received a special course of two years at the Boston Latin School, and a classical course of one year at the Chauncy Hall School. He graduated at the Harvard Law School in 1881, with the degree of LL.B. He subsequently studied law in a supplementary way, in the office of J. M. Baker, and was
admitted to the bar in January, 1882. He has been actively engaged in politics since 1884. He was counsel for the Journeymen Tailors at the time of the strike at Somer's store, obtaining for them the right to have delegates walk the street in front of the es- tablishment without causing an obstruction. Since 1883 he has been attorney and secre- tary of the Warm Springs Consolidated Mining Co. He is also a stockholder of the Canton Manufacturing Co. During the school season, since 1881, he has filled the position of secretary of the Evening High School, of Boston. He is a member of the Charitable Irish Society, Clover Club, and Democratic City Committee, of Boston. He is, at present, the president of the latter organization, having been elected in 1887.
BURKE, JOHN H., lawyer, born in Chelsea, Mass., September 6, 1856. He graduated at the Bigelow Grammar School, South Bos- ton, attended Boston College, and graduated from the Boston University Law School in 1878, receiving the degree of LL.B. He was admitted to the Suffolk County bar in September, 1878. He practised law on his own account for five years, in the office of Hon. P. A. Collins, when, in 1883, he became a member of the law firm of Collins, Burke, & Griffin. He had entire management of the legal business of the office during Mr. Collins's terms in Congress. He is a mem- ber of the Montgomery Light Guard Veteran Association, and was recently elected the president of the Charitable Irish Society.
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