[Illustration: Elizabeth Cady Stanton]

EIGHTY YEARS AND MORE

REMINISCENCES 1815-1897

ELIZABETH CADY STANTON

"Social science affirms that woman's place in society marks the level ofcivilization. "

I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME TO

SUSAN B. ANTHONY, MY STEADFAST FRIEND FOR HALF A CENTURY. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER

I. CHILDHOODII. SCHOOL DAYSIII. GIRLHOODIV. LIFE AT PETERBOROV. OUR WEDDING JOURNEYVI. HOMEWARD BOUNDVII. MOTHERHOODVIII. BOSTON AND CHELSEAIX. THE FIRST WOMAN'S RIGHTS CONVENTIONX. SUSAN B. ANTHONYXI. SUSAN B. ANTHONY (_Continued_)XII. MY FIRST SPEECH BEFORE A LEGISLATUREXIII. REFORMS AND MOBSXIV. VIEWS ON MARRIAGE AND DIVORCEXV. WOMEN AS PATRIOTSXVI. PIONEER LIFE IN KANSAS--OUR NEWSPAPER "THEREVOLUTION"XVII. LYCEUMS AND LECTURERSXVIII. WESTWARD HO!XIX. THE SPIRIT OF '76XX. WRITING "THE HISTORY OF WOMAN SUFFRAGE"XXI. IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCEXXII. REFORMS AND REFORMERS IN GREAT BRITAINXXIII. WOMAN AND THEOLOGYXXIV. ENGLAND AND FRANCE REVISITEDXXV. THE INTERNATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMENXXVI. MY LAST VISIT TO ENGLANDXXVII. SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CLASS OF 1832--THEWOMAN'S BIBLEXXVIII. MY EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAYINDEX OF NAMES

LIST OF PORTRAITS. 

The Author, _Frontispiece_Margaret Livingston CadyJudge Daniel CadyHenry Brewster StantonThe Author and DaughterThe Author and SonSusan B. AnthonyElizabeth Smith MillerChildren and GrandchildrenThe Author, Mrs. Blatch, and NoraThe Author, Mrs. Lawrence, and Robert Livingston Stanton

EIGHTY YEARS AND MORE. 

CHAPTER I. 

CHILDHOOD. 

The psychical growth of a child is not influenced by days and years, butby the impressions passing events make on its mind. What may prove asudden awakening to one, giving an impulse in a certain direction thatmay last for years, may make no impression on another. People wonder whythe children of the same family differ so widely, though they have hadthe same domestic discipline, the same school and church teaching, andhave grown up under the same influences and with the same environments. As well wonder why lilies and lilacs in the same latitude are not allalike in color and equally fragrant. Children differ as widely as thesein the primal elements of their physical and psychical life. 

Who can estimate the power of antenatal influences, or the child'ssurroundings in its earliest years, the effect of some passing word orsight on one, that makes no impression on another? The unhappiness ofone child under a certain home discipline is not inconsistent with thecontent of another under this same discipline. One, yearning for broaderfreedom, is in a chronic condition of rebellion; the other, more easilysatisfied, quietly accepts the situation. Everything is seen from adifferent standpoint; everything takes its color from the mind of thebeholder. 

I am moved to recall what I can of my early days, what I thought andfelt, that grown people may have a better understanding of children anddo more for their happiness and development. I see so much tyrannyexercised over children, even by well-disposed parents, and in so manyvaried forms, --a tyranny to which these parents are themselvesinsensible, --that I desire to paint my joys and sorrows in as vividcolors as possible, in the hope that I may do something to defend theweak from the strong. People never dream of all that is going on in thelittle heads of the young, for few adults are given to introspection, and those who are incapable of recalling their own feelings underrestraint and disappointment can have no appreciation of the sufferingsof children who can neither describe nor analyze what they feel. Indefending themselves against injustice they are as helpless as dumbanimals. What is insignificant to their elders is often to them a sourceof great joy or sorrow. 

With several generations of vigorous, enterprising ancestors behind me, I commenced the struggle of life under favorable circumstances on the12th day of November, 1815, the same year that my father, Daniel Cady, adistinguished lawyer and judge in the State of New York, was elected toCongress. Perhaps the excitement of a political campaign, in which mymother took the deepest interest, may have had an influence on myprenatal life and given me the strong desire that I have always felt toparticipate in the rights and duties of government. 

My father was a man of firm character and unimpeachable integrity, andyet sensitive and modest to a painful degree. There were but two placesin which he felt at ease--in the courthouse and at his own fireside. Though gentle and tender, he had such a dignified repose and reserve ofmanner that, as children, we regarded him with fear rather thanaffection. 

My mother, Margaret Livingston, a tall, queenly looking woman, wascourageous, self-reliant, and at her ease under all circumstances and inall places. She was the daughter of Colonel James Livingston, who tookan active part in the War of the Revolution. 

Colonel Livingston was stationed at West Point when Arnold made theattempt to betray that stronghold into the hands of the enemy. In theabsence of General Washington and his superior officer, he took theresponsibility of firing into the _Vulture_, a suspicious lookingBritish vessel that lay at anchor near the opposite bank of the HudsonRiver. It was a fatal shot for André, the British spy, with whom Arnoldwas then consummating his treason. Hit between wind and water, thevessel spread her sails and hastened down the river, leaving André, withhis papers, to be captured while Arnold made his escape through thelines, before his treason was suspected. 

On General Washington's return to West Point, he sent for my grandfatherand reprimanded him for acting in so important a matter without orders, thereby making himself liable to court-martial; but, after fullyimpressing the young officer with the danger of such self-sufficiency onordinary occasions, he admitted that a most fortunate shot had been sentinto the _Vulture_, "for, " he said, "we are in no condition just now todefend ourselves against the British forces in New York, and thecapture of this spy has saved us. "

My mother had the military idea of government, but her children, liketheir grandfather, were disposed to assume the responsibility of theirown actions; thus the ancestral traits in mother and children modified, in a measure, the dangerous tendencies in each. 

Our parents were as kind, indulgent, and considerate as the Puritanideas of those days permitted, but fear, rather than love, of God andparents alike, predominated. Add to this our timidity in our intercoursewith servants and teachers, our dread of the ever present devil, and thereader will see that, under such conditions, nothing but strongself-will and a good share of hope and mirthfulness could have saved anordinary child from becoming a mere nullity. 

The first event engraved on my memory was the birth of a sister when Iwas four years old. It was a cold morning in January when the brawnyScotch nurse carried me to see the little stranger, whose advent was amatter of intense interest to me for many weeks after. The large, pleasant room with the white curtains and bright wood fire on thehearth, where panada, catnip, and all kinds of little messes which wewere allowed to taste were kept warm, was the center of attraction forthe older children. I heard so many friends remark, "What a pity it isshe's a girl!" that I felt a kind of compassion for the little baby. True, our family consisted of five girls and only one boy, but I did notunderstand at that time that girls were considered an inferior order ofbeings. 

To form some idea of my surroundings at this time, imagine a two-storywhite frame house with a hall through the middle, rooms on either side, and a large back building with grounds on the side and rear, whichjoined the garden of our good Presbyterian minister, the Rev. SimonHosack, of whom I shall have more to say in another chapter. Ourfavorite resorts in the house were the garret and cellar. In the formerwere barrels of hickory nuts, and, on a long shelf, large cakes of maplesugar and all kinds of dried herbs and sweet flag; spinning wheels, anumber of small white cotton bags filled with bundles, marked in ink, "silk, " "cotton, " "flannel, " "calico, " etc. , as well as ancientmasculine and feminine costumes. Here we would crack the nuts, nibblethe sharp edges of the maple sugar, chew some favorite herb, play ballwith the bags, whirl the old spinning wheels, dress up in our ancestors'clothes, and take a bird's-eye view of the surrounding country from anenticing scuttle hole. This was forbidden ground; but, nevertheless, weoften went there on the sly, which only made the little escapades moreenjoyable. 

The cellar of our house was filled, in winter, with barrels of apples, vegetables, salt meats, cider, butter, pounding barrels, washtubs, etc. , offering admirable nooks for playing hide and seek. Two tallow candlesthrew a faint light over the scene on certain occasions. This cellar wason a level with a large kitchen where we played blind man's buff andother games when the day's work was done. These two rooms are the centerof many of the merriest memories of my childhood days. 

I can recall three colored men, Abraham, Peter, and Jacob, who acted asmenservants in our youth. In turn they would sometimes play on the banjofor us to dance, taking real enjoyment in our games. They are all atrest now with "Old Uncle Ned in the place where the good niggers go. "Our nurses, Lockey Danford, Polly Bell, Mary Dunn, and CorneliaNickeloy--peace to their ashes--were the only shadows on the gayety ofthese winter evenings; for their chief delight was to hurry us off tobed, that they might receive their beaux or make short calls in theneighborhood. My memory of them is mingled with no sentiment ofgratitude or affection. In expressing their opinion of us in afteryears, they said we were a very troublesome, obstinate, disobedient setof children. I have no doubt we were in constant rebellion against theirpetty tyranny. Abraham, Peter, and Jacob viewed us in a different light, and I have the most pleasant recollections of their kind services. 

In the winter, outside the house, we had the snow with which to buildstatues and make forts, and huge piles of wood covered with ice, whichwe called the Alps, so difficult were they of ascent and descent. Therewe would climb up and down by the hour, if not interrupted, which, however, was generally the case. It always seemed to me that, in theheight of our enthusiasm, we were invariably summoned to somedisagreeable duty, which would appear to show that thus early I keenlyenjoyed outdoor life. Theodore Tilton has thus described the place whereI was born: "Birthplace is secondary parentage, and transmits character. Johnstown was more famous half a century ago than since; for then, though small, it was a marked intellectual center; and now, thoughlarge, it is an unmarked manufacturing town. Before the birth ofElizabeth Cady it was the vice-ducal seat of Sir William Johnson, thefamous English negotiator with the Indians. During her girlhood it wasan arena for the intellectual wrestlings of Kent, Tompkins, Spencer, Elisha Williams, and Abraham Van Vechten, who, as lawyers, were amongthe chiefest of their time. It is now devoted mainly to the fabricationof steel springs and buckskin gloves. So, like Wordsworth's early star, it has faded into the light of common day. But Johnstown retains one ofits ancient splendors--a glory still fresh as at the foundation of theworld. Standing on its hills, one looks off upon a country of enameledmeadow lands, that melt away southward toward the Mohawk, and northwardto the base of those grand mountains which are 'God's monument over thegrave of John Brown. '"

Harold Frederic's novel, "In the Valley, " contains many descriptions ofthis region that are true to nature, as I remember the Mohawk Valley, for I first knew it not so many years after the scenes which he laysthere. Before I was old enough to take in the glory of this scenery andits classic associations, Johnstown was to me a gloomy-looking town. Themiddle of the streets was paved with large cobblestones, over which thefarmer's wagons rattled from morning till night, while the sidewalkswere paved with very small cobblestones, over which we carefully pickedour way, so that free and graceful walking was out of the question. Thestreets were lined with solemn poplar trees, from which small yellowworms were continually dangling down. Next to the Prince of Darkness, Ifeared these worms. They were harmless, but the sight of one made metremble. So many people shared in this feeling that the poplars were allcut down and elms planted in their stead. The Johnstown academy andchurches were large square buildings, painted white, surrounded by thesesame sombre poplars, each edifice having a doleful bell which seemed tobe ever tolling for school, funerals, church, or prayer meetings. Nextto the worms, those clanging bells filled me with the utmost dread; theyseemed like so many warnings of an eternal future. Visions of theInferno were strongly impressed on my childish imagination. It wasthought, in those days, that firm faith in hell and the devil was thegreatest help to virtue. It certainly made me very unhappy whenever mymind dwelt on such teachings, and I have always had my doubts of thevirtue that is based on the fear of punishment. 

Perhaps I may be pardoned a word devoted to my appearance in those days. I have been told that I was a plump little girl, with very fair skin, rosy cheeks, good features, dark-brown hair, and laughing blue eyes. Astudent in my father's office, the late Henry Bayard of Delaware (anuncle of our recent Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, Thomas F. Bayard), told me one day, after conning my features carefully, that Ihad one defect which he could remedy. "Your eyebrows should be darkerand heavier, " said he, "and if you will let me shave them once or twice, you will be much improved. " I consented, and, slight as my eyebrowswere, they seemed to have had some expression, for the loss of them hada most singular effect on my appearance. Everybody, including even theoperator, laughed at my odd-looking face, and I was in the depths ofhumiliation during the period while my eyebrows were growing out again. It is scarcely necessary for me to add that I never allowed the youngman to repeat the experiment, although strongly urged to do so. 

I cannot recall how or when I conquered the alphabet, words in threeletters, the multiplication table, the points of the compass, thechicken pox, whooping cough, measles, and scarlet fever. All theseunhappy incidents of childhood left but little impression on my mind. Ihave, however, most pleasant memories of the good spinster, Maria Yost, who patiently taught three generations of children the rudiments of theEnglish language, and introduced us to the pictures in "Murray'sSpelling-book, " where Old Father Time, with his scythe, and the farmerstoning the boys in his apple trees, gave rise in my mind to manyserious reflections. Miss Yost was plump and rosy, with fair hair, andhad a merry twinkle in her blue eyes, and she took us by very easystages through the old-fashioned school-books. The interesting Readerschildren now have were unknown sixty years ago. We did not reach thetemple of knowledge by the flowery paths of ease in which ourdescendants now walk. 

I still have a perfect vision of myself and sisters, as we stood up inthe classes, with our toes at the cracks in the floor, all dressed alikein bright red flannel, black alpaca aprons, and, around the neck, astarched ruffle that, through a lack of skill on the part of either thelaundress or the nurse who sewed them in, proved a constant source ofdiscomfort to us. I have since seen full-grown men, under slighterprovocation than we endured, jerk off a collar, tear it in two, andthrow it to the winds, chased by the most soul-harrowing expletives. Butwe were sternly rebuked for complaining, and if we ventured to introduceour little fingers between the delicate skin and the irritating linen, our hands were slapped and the ruffle readjusted a degree closer. OurSunday dresses were relieved with a black sprig and white aprons. We hadred cloaks, red hoods, red mittens, and red stockings. For one's self tobe all in red six months of the year was bad enough, but to have thiscostume multiplied by three was indeed monotonous. I had such anaversion to that color that I used to rebel regularly at the beginningof each season when new dresses were purchased, until we finally passedinto an exquisite shade of blue. No words could do justice to my dislikeof those red dresses. My grandfather's detestation of the Britishredcoats must have descended to me. My childhood's antipathy to wearingred enabled me later to comprehend the feelings of a little niece, whohated everything pea green, because she had once heard the saying, "neatbut not gaudy, as the devil said when he painted his tail pea green. " Sowhen a friend brought her a cravat of that color she threw it on thefloor and burst into tears, saying, "I could not wear that, for it isthe color of the devil's tail. " I sympathized with the child and had itchanged for the hue she liked. Although we cannot always understand theground for children's preferences, it is often well to heed them. 

I am told that I was pensively looking out of the nursery window oneday, when Mary Dunn, the Scotch nurse, who was something of aphilosopher, and a stern Presbyterian, said: "Child, what are youthinking about; are you planning some new form of mischief?" "No, Mary, "I replied, "I was wondering why it was that everything we like to do isa sin, and that everything we dislike is commanded by God or someone onearth. I am so tired of that everlasting no! no! no! At school, at home, everywhere it is _no_! Even at church all the commandments begin 'Thoushalt not. ' I suppose God will say 'no' to all we like in the nextworld, just as you do here. " Mary was dreadfully shocked at mydissatisfaction with the things of time and prospective eternity, andexhorted me to cultivate the virtues of obedience and humility. 

I well remember the despair I felt in those years, as I took in thewhole situation, over the constant cribbing and crippling of a child'slife. I suppose I found fit language in which to express my thoughts, for Mary Dunn told me, years after, how our discussion roused my sisterMargaret, who was an attentive listener. I must have set forth ourwrongs in clear, unmistakable terms; for Margaret exclaimed one day, "Itell you what to do. Hereafter let us act as we choose, without asking. ""Then, " said I, "we shall be punished. " "Suppose we are, " said she, "weshall have had our fun at any rate, and that is better than to mind theeverlasting 'no' and not have any fun at all. " Her logic seemedunanswerable, so together we gradually acted on her suggestions. Havingless imagination than I, she took a common-sense view of life andsuffered nothing from anticipation of troubles, while my sorrows wereintensified fourfold by innumerable apprehensions of possibleexigencies. 

Our nursery, a large room over a back building, had three barred windowsreaching nearly to the floor. Two of these opened on a gently slantingroof over a veranda. In our night robes, on warm summer evenings wecould, by dint of skillful twisting and compressing, get out between thebars, and there, snugly braced against the house, we would sit and enjoythe moon and stars and what sounds might reach us from the streets, while the nurse, gossiping at the back door, imagined we were safelyasleep. 

I have a confused memory of being often under punishment for what, inthose days, were called "tantrums. " I suppose they were reallyjustifiable acts of rebellion against the tyranny of those in authority. I have often listened since, with real satisfaction, to what some of ourfriends had to say of the high-handed manner in which sister Margaretand I defied all the transient orders and strict rules laid down for ourguidance. If we had observed them we might as well have been embalmed asmummies, for all the pleasure and freedom we should have had in ourchildhood. As very little was then done for the amusement of children, happy were those who _conscientiously_ took the liberty of amusingthemselves. 

One charming feature of our village was a stream of water, called theCayadutta, which ran through the north end, in which it was our delightto walk on the broad slate stones when the water was low, in order topick up pretty pebbles. These joys were also forbidden, though indulgedin as opportunity afforded, especially as sister Margaret's philosophywas found to work successfully and we had finally risen above ourinfantile fear of punishment. 

Much of my freedom at this time was due to this sister, who afterwardbecame the wife of Colonel Duncan McMartin of Iowa. I can see her now, hat in hand, her long curls flying in the wind, her nose slightlyretroussé, her large dark eyes flashing with glee, and her smallstraight mouth so expressive of determination. Though two years myjunior, she was larger and stronger than I and more fearless andself-reliant. She was always ready to start when any pleasure offered, and, if I hesitated, she would give me a jerk and say, emphatically:"Oh, come along!" and away we went. 

About this time we entered the Johnstown Academy, where we made theacquaintance of the daughters of the hotel keeper and the countysheriff. They were a few years my senior, but, as I was ahead of them inall my studies, the difference of age was somewhat equalized and webecame fast friends. This acquaintance opened to us two new sources ofenjoyment--the freedom of the hotel during "court week" (a great eventin village life) and the exploration of the county jail. Our Scotchnurse had told us so many thrilling tales of castles, prisons, anddungeons in the Old World that, to see the great keys and iron doors, the handcuffs and chains, and the prisoners in their cells seemed like averitable visit to Mary's native land. We made frequent visits to thejail and became deeply concerned about the fate of the prisoners, whowere greatly pleased with our expressions of sympathy and our gifts ofcake and candy. In time we became interested in the trials and sentencesof prisoners, and would go to the courthouse and listen to theproceedings. Sometimes we would slip into the hotel where the judges andlawyers dined, and help our little friend wait on table. The rushing ofservants to and fro, the calling of guests, the scolding of servants inthe kitchen, the banging of doors, the general hubbub, the noise andclatter, were all idealized by me into one of those royal festivals Maryso often described. To be allowed to carry plates of bread and butter, pie and cheese I counted a high privilege. But more especially I enjoyedlistening to the conversations in regard to the probable fate of ourfriends the prisoners in the jail. On one occasion I projected a fewremarks into a conversation between two lawyers, when one of them turnedabruptly to me and said, "Child, you'd better attend to your business;bring me a glass of water. " I replied indignantly, "I am not a servant;I am here for fun. "

In all these escapades we were followed by Peter, black as coal and sixfeet in height. It seems to me now that his chief business was todiscover our whereabouts, get us home to dinner, and take us back toschool. Fortunately he was overflowing with curiosity and not averse tolingering a while where anything of interest was to be seen or heard, and, as we were deemed perfectly safe under his care, no questions wereasked when we got to the house, if we had been with him. He had a longhead and, through his diplomacy, we escaped much disagreeablesurveillance. Peter was very fond of attending court. All the lawyersknew him, and wherever Peter went, the three little girls in his chargewent, too. Thus, with constant visits to the jail, courthouse, and myfather's office, I gleaned some idea of the danger of violating the law. 

The great events of the year were the Christmas holidays, the Fourth ofJuly, and "general training, " as the review of the county militia wasthen called. The winter gala days are associated, in my memory, withhanging up stockings and with turkeys, mince pies, sweet cider, andsleighrides by moonlight. My earliest recollections of those happy days, when schools were closed, books laid aside, and unusual libertiesallowed, center in that large cellar kitchen to which I have alreadyreferred. There we spent many winter evenings in uninterruptedenjoyment. A large fireplace with huge logs shed warmth and cheerfulnessaround. In one corner sat Peter sawing his violin, while our youthfulneighbors danced with us and played blindman's buff almost every eveningduring the vacation. The most interesting character in this game was ablack boy called Jacob (Peter's lieutenant), who made things lively forus by always keeping one eye open--a wise precaution to guard himselffrom danger, and to keep us on the jump. Hickory nuts, sweet cider, and_olie-koeks_ (a Dutch name for a fried cake with raisins inside) wereour refreshments when there came a lull in the fun. 

As St. Nicholas was supposed to come down the chimney, our stockingswere pinned on a broomstick, laid across two chairs in front of thefireplace. We retired on Christmas Eve with the most pleasinganticipations of what would be in our stockings next morning. Thethermometer in that latitude was often twenty degrees below zero, yet, bright and early, we would run downstairs in our bare feet over the coldfloors to carry stockings, broom, etc. , to the nursery. The gorgeouspresents that St. Nicholas now distributes show that he, too, has beengrowing up with the country. The boys and girls of 1897 will laugh whenthey hear of the contents of our stockings in 1823. There was a littlepaper of candy, one of raisins, another, of nuts, a red apple, an_olie-koek_, and a bright silver quarter of a dollar in the toe. If achild had been guilty of any erratic performances during the year, whichwas often my case, a long stick would protrude from the stocking; ifparticularly good, an illustrated catechism or the New Testament wouldappear, showing that the St. Nicholas of that time held decided viewson discipline and ethics. 

During the day we would take a drive over the snow-clad hills andvalleys in a long red lumber sleigh. All the children it could hold madethe forests echo with their songs and laughter. The sleigh bells andPeter's fine tenor voice added to the chorus seemed to chant, as wepassed, "Merry Christmas" to the farmers' children and to all we met onthe highway. 

Returning home, we were allowed, as a great Christmas treat, to watchall Peter's preparations for dinner. Attired in a white apron andturban, holding in his hand a tin candlestick the size of a dinnerplate, containing a tallow candle, with stately step he marched into thespacious cellar, with Jacob and three little girls dressed in redflannel at his heels. As the farmers paid the interest on theirmortgages in barrels of pork, headcheese, poultry, eggs, and cider, thecellars were well crowded for the winter, making the master of anestablishment quite indifferent to all questions of finance. We heardnothing in those days of greenbacks, silver coinage, or a gold basis. Laden with vegetables, butter, eggs, and a magnificent turkey, Peter andhis followers returned to the kitchen. There, seated on a big ironingtable, we watched the dressing and roasting of the bird in a tin oven infront of the fire. Jacob peeled the vegetables, we all sang, and Petertold us marvelous stories. For tea he made flapjacks, baked in a panwith a long handle, which he turned by throwing the cake up andskillfully catching it descending. 

Peter was a devout Episcopalian and took great pleasure in helping theyoung people decorate the church. He would take us with him and show ushow to make evergreen wreaths. Like Mary's lamb, where'er he went wewere sure to go. His love for us was unbounded and fully returned. Hewas the only being, visible or invisible, of whom we had no fear. Wewould go to divine service with Peter, Christmas morning and sit withhim by the door, in what was called "the negro pew. " He was the onlycolored member of the church and, after all the other communicants hadtaken the sacrament, he went alone to the altar. Dressed in a new suitof blue with gilt buttons, he looked like a prince, as, with head erect, he walked up the aisle, the grandest specimen of manhood in the wholecongregation; and yet so strong was prejudice against color in 1823 thatno one would kneel beside him. On leaving us, on one of these occasions, Peter told us all to sit still until he returned; but, no sooner had hestarted, than the youngest of us slowly followed after him and seatedherself close beside him. As he came back, holding the child by thehand, what a lesson it must have been to that prejudiced congregation!The first time we entered the church together the sexton opened a whiteman's pew for us, telling Peter to leave the Judge's children there. "Oh, " he said, "they will not stay there without me. " But, as he couldnot enter, we instinctively followed him to the negro pew. 

Our next great fête was on the anniversary of the birthday of ourRepublic. The festivities were numerous and protracted, beginning then, as now, at midnight with bonfires and cannon; while the day was usheredin with the ringing of bells, tremendous cannonading, and a continuouspopping of fire-crackers and torpedoes. Then a procession of soldiersand citizens marched through the town, an oration was delivered, theDeclaration of Independence read, and a great dinner given in the openair under the trees in the grounds of the old courthouse. Each toast wasannounced with the booming of cannon. On these occasions Peter was inhis element, and showed us whatever he considered worth seeing; but Icannot say that I enjoyed very much either "general training" or theFourth of July, for, in addition to my fear of cannon and torpedoes, mysympathies were deeply touched by the sadness of our cook, whose drunkenfather always cut antics in the streets on gala days, the central figurein all the sports of the boys, much to the mortification of his worthydaughter. She wept bitterly over her father's public exhibition ofhimself, and told me in what a condition he would come home to hisfamily at night. I would gladly have stayed in with her all day, but thefear of being called a coward compelled me to go through those tryingordeals. As my nerves were all on the surface, no words can describewhat I suffered with those explosions, great and small, and my fearslest King George and his minions should reappear among us. I thoughtthat, if he had done all the dreadful things stated in the Declarationof '76, he might come again, burn our houses, and drive us all into thestreet. Sir William Johnson's mansion of solid masonry, gloomy andthreatening, still stood in our neighborhood. I had seen the marks ofthe Indian's tomahawk on the balustrades and heard of the bloody deedsthere enacted. For all the calamities of the nation I believed KingGeorge responsible. At home and at school we were educated to hate theEnglish. When we remember that, every Fourth of July, the Declarationwas read with emphasis, and the orator of the day rounded all hisglowing periods with denunciations of the mother country, we need notwonder at the national hatred of everything English. Our patriotism inthose early days was measured by our dislike of Great Britain. 

In September occurred the great event, the review of the county militia, popularly called "Training Day. " Then everybody went to the race courseto see the troops and buy what the farmers had brought in their wagons. There was a peculiar kind of gingerbread and molasses candy to which wewere treated on those occasions, associated in my mind to this day withmilitary reviews and standing armies. 

Other pleasures were, roaming in the forests and sailing on the millpond. One day, when there were no boys at hand and several girls wereimpatiently waiting for a sail on a raft, my sister and I volunteered toman the expedition. We always acted on the assumption that what we hadseen done, we could do. Accordingly we all jumped on the raft, loosenedit from its moorings, and away we went with the current. Navigation onthat mill pond was performed with long poles, but, unfortunately, wecould not lift the poles, and we soon saw we were drifting toward thedam. But we had the presence of mind to sit down and hold fast to theraft. Fortunately, we went over right side up and gracefully glided downthe stream, until rescued by the ever watchful Peter. I did not hear thelast of that voyage for a long time. I was called the captain of theexpedition, and one of the boys wrote a composition, which he read inschool, describing the adventure and emphasizing the ignorance of thelaws of navigation shown by the officers in command. I shed tears manytimes over that performance. 

CHAPTER II. 

SCHOOL DAYS. 

When I was eleven years old, two events occurred which changedconsiderably the current of my life. My only brother, who had justgraduated from Union College, came home to die. A young man of greattalent and promise, he was the pride of my father's heart. We early feltthat this son filled a larger place in our father's affections andfuture plans than the five daughters together. Well do I remember howtenderly he watched my brother in his last illness, the sighs and tearshe gave vent to as he slowly walked up and down the hall, and, when thelast sad moment came, and we were all assembled to say farewell in thesilent chamber of death, how broken were his utterances as he knelt andprayed for comfort and support. I still recall, too, going into thelarge darkened parlor to see my brother, and finding the casket, mirrors, and pictures all draped in white, and my father seated by hisside, pale and immovable. As he took no notice of me, after standing along while, I climbed upon his knee, when he mechanically put his armabout me and, with my head resting against his beating heart, we bothsat in silence, he thinking of the wreck of all his hopes in the loss ofa dear son, and I wondering what could be said or done to fill the voidin his breast. At length he heaved a deep sigh and said: "Oh, mydaughter, I wish you were a boy!" Throwing my arms about his neck, Ireplied: "I will try to be all my brother was. "

[Illustration: MARGARET LIVINGSTON CADY. ] [Illustration: JUDGE DANIELCADY. ] Then and there I resolved that I would not give so much time asheretofore to play, but would study and strive to be at the head of allmy classes and thus delight my father's heart. All that day and far intothe night I pondered the problem of boyhood. I thought that the chiefthing to be done in order to equal boys was to be learned andcourageous. So I decided to study Greek and learn to manage a horse. Having formed this conclusion I fell asleep. My resolutions, unlike manysuch made at night, did not vanish with the coming light. I arose earlyand hastened to put them into execution. They were resolutions never tobe forgotten--destined to mold my character anew. As soon as I wasdressed I hastened to our good pastor, Rev. Simon Hosack, who was alwaysearly at work in his garden. 

"Doctor, " said I, "which do you like best, boys or girls?"

"Why, girls, to be sure; I would not give you for all the boys inChristendom. "

"My father, " I replied, "prefers boys; he wishes I was one, and I intendto be as near like one as possible. I am going to ride on horseback andstudy Greek. Will you give me a Greek lesson now, doctor? I want tobegin at once. "

"Yes, child, " said he, throwing down his hoe, "come into my library andwe will begin without delay. "

He entered fully into the feeling of suffering and sorrow which tookpossession of me when I discovered that a girl weighed less in the scaleof being than a boy, and he praised my determination to prove thecontrary. The old grammar which he had studied in the University ofGlasgow was soon in my hands, and the Greek article was learned beforebreakfast. 

Then came the sad pageantry of death, the weeping of friends, the darkrooms, the ghostly stillness, the exhortation to the living to preparefor death, the solemn prayer, the mournful chant, the funeral cortège, the solemn, tolling bell, the burial. How I suffered during those saddays! What strange undefined fears of the unknown took possession of me!For months afterward, at the twilight hour, I went with my father to thenew-made grave. Near it stood two tall poplar trees, against one ofwhich I leaned, while my father threw himself on the grave, withoutstretched arms, as if to embrace his child. At last the frosts andstorms of November came and threw a chilling barrier between the livingand the dead, and we went there no more. 

During all this time I kept up my lessons at the parsonage and maderapid progress. I surprised even my teacher, who thought me capable ofdoing anything. I learned to drive, and to leap a fence and ditch onhorseback. I taxed every power, hoping some day to hear my father say:"Well, a girl is as good as a boy, after all. " But he never said it. When the doctor came over to spend the evening with us, I would whisperin his ear: "Tell my father how fast I get on, " and he would tell him, and was lavish in his praises. But my father only paced the room, sighed, and showed that he wished I were a boy; and I, not knowing whyhe felt thus, would hide my tears of vexation on the doctor's shoulder. 

Soon after this I began to study Latin, Greek, and mathematics with aclass of boys in the Academy, many of whom were much older than I. Forthree years one boy kept his place at the head of the class, and Ialways stood next. Two prizes were offered in Greek. I strove for oneand took the second. How well I remember my joy in receiving that prize. There was no sentiment of ambition, rivalry, or triumph over mycompanions, nor feeling of satisfaction in receiving this honor in thepresence of those assembled on the day of the exhibition. One thoughtalone filled my mind. "Now, " said I, "my father will be satisfied withme. " So, as soon as we were dismissed, I ran down the hill, rushedbreathless into his office, laid the new Greek Testament, which was myprize, on his table and exclaimed: "There, I got it!" He took up thebook, asked me some questions about the class, the teachers, thespectators, and, evidently pleased, handed it back to me. Then, while Istood looking and waiting for him to say something which would show thathe recognized the equality of the daughter with the son, he kissed me onthe forehead and exclaimed, with a sigh, "Ah, you should have been aboy!"

My joy was turned to sadness. I ran to my good doctor. He chased mybitter tears away, and soothed me with unbounded praises and visions offuture success. He was then confined to the house with his last illness. He asked me that day if I would like to have, when he was gone, the oldlexicon, Testament, and grammar that we had so often thumbed together. "Yes, but I would rather have you stay, " I replied, "for what can I dowhen you are gone?" "Oh, " said he tenderly, "I shall not be gone; myspirit will still be with you, watching you in all life's struggles. "Noble, generous friend! He had but little on earth to bequeath toanyone, but when the last scene in his life was ended, and his will wasopened, sure enough there was a clause saying: "My Greek lexicon, Testament, and grammar, and four volumes of Scott's commentaries, I willto Elizabeth Cady. " I never look at these books without a feeling ofthankfulness that in childhood I was blessed with such a friend andteacher. 

I can truly say, after an experience of seventy years, that all thecares and anxieties, the trials and disappointments of my whole life, are light, when balanced with my sufferings in childhood and youth fromthe theological dogmas which I sincerely believed, and the gloomconnected with everything associated with the name of religion, thechurch, the parsonage, the graveyard, and the solemn, tolling bell. Everything connected with death was then rendered inexpressiblydolorous. The body, covered with a black pall, was borne on theshoulders of men; the mourners were in crape and walked with bowedheads, while the neighbors who had tears to shed, did so copiously andsummoned up their saddest facial expressions. At the grave came thesober warnings to the living and sometimes frightful prophesies as tothe state of the dead. All this pageantry of woe and visions of theunknown land beyond the tomb, often haunted my midnight dreams andshadowed the sunshine of my days. The parsonage, with its bare walls andfloors, its shriveled mistress and her blind sister, more like ghostlyshadows than human flesh and blood; the two black servants, racked withrheumatism and odoriferous with a pungent oil they used in the vain hopeof making their weary limbs more supple; the aged parson buried in hislibrary in the midst of musty books and papers--all this only added tothe gloom of my surroundings. The church, which was bare, with nofurnace to warm us, no organ to gladden our hearts, no choir to lead oursongs of praise in harmony, was sadly lacking in all attractions for theyouthful mind. The preacher, shut up in an octagonal box high above ourheads, gave us sermons over an hour long, and the chorister, in asimilar box below him, intoned line after line of David's Psalms, while, like a flock of sheep at the heels of their shepherd, the congregation, without regard to time or tune, straggled after their leader. 

Years later, the introduction of stoves, a violoncello, Wesley's hymns, and a choir split the church in twain. These old Scotch Presbyterianswere opposed to all innovations that would afford their people paths offlowery ease on the road to Heaven. So, when the thermometer was twentydegrees below zero on the Johnstown Hills, four hundred feet above theMohawk Valley, we trudged along through the snow, foot-stoves in hand, to the cold hospitalities of the "Lord's House, " there to be chilled tothe very core by listening to sermons on "predestination, ""justification by faith, " and "eternal damnation. "

To be restless, or to fall asleep under such solemn circumstances was asure evidence of total depravity, and of the machinations of the devilstriving to turn one's heart from God and his ordinances. As I wasguilty of these shortcomings and many more, I early believed myself averitable child of the Evil One, and suffered endless fears lest heshould come some night and claim me as his own. To me he was a personal, ever-present reality, crouching in a dark corner of the nursery. Ah! howmany times I have stolen out of bed, and sat shivering on the stairs, where the hall lamp and the sound of voices from the parlor would, in ameasure, mitigate my terror. Thanks to a vigorous constitution andoverflowing animal spirits, I was able to endure for years the strain ofthese depressing influences, until my reasoning powers and common sensetriumphed at last over my imagination. The memory of my own sufferinghas prevented me from ever shadowing one young soul with any of thesuperstitions of the Christian religion. But there have been manychanges, even in my native town, since those dark days. Our old churchwas turned into a mitten factory, and the pleasant hum of machinery andthe glad faces of men and women have chased the evil spirits to theirhiding places. One finds at Johnstown now, beautiful churches, ornamented cemeteries, and cheerful men and women, quite emancipatedfrom the nonsense and terrors of the old theologies. 

An important event in our family circle was the marriage of my oldestsister, Tryphena, to Edward Bayard of Wilmington, Delaware. He was agraduate of Union College, a classmate of my brother, and frequentlyvisited at my father's house. At the end of his college course, he camewith his brother Henry to study law in Johnstown. A quiet, retiredlittle village was thought to be a good place in which to sequesteryoung men bent on completing their education, as they were there safefrom the temptations and distracting influences of large cities. Inaddition to this consideration, my father's reputation made his office adesirable resort for students, who, furthermore, not only improved theiropportunities by reading Blackstone, Kent, and Story, but also by makinglove to the Judge's daughters. We thus had the advantage of manypleasant acquaintances from the leading families in the country, and, inthis way, it was that four of the sisters eventually selected mostworthy husbands. 

Though only twenty-one years of age when married, Edward Bayard was atall, fully developed man, remarkably fine looking, with cultivatedliterary taste and a profound knowledge of human nature. Warm andaffectionate, generous to a fault in giving and serving, he was soon agreat favorite in the family, and gradually filled the void made in allour hearts by the loss of the brother and son. 

My father was so fully occupied with the duties of his profession, whichoften called him from home, and my mother so weary with the cares of alarge family, having had ten children, though only five survived at thistime, that they were quite willing to shift their burdens to youngershoulders. Our eldest sister and her husband, therefore, soon became ourcounselors and advisers. They selected our clothing, books, schools, acquaintances, and directed our reading and amusements. Thus the reinsof domestic government, little by little, passed into their hands, andthe family arrangements were in a manner greatly improved in favor ofgreater liberty for the children. 

The advent of Edward and Henry Bayard was an inestimable blessing to us. With them came an era of picnics, birthday parties, and endlessamusements; the buying of pictures, fairy books, musical instruments andponies, and frequent excursions with parties on horseback. Fresh fromcollege, they made our lessons in Latin, Greek, and mathematics so easythat we studied with real pleasure and had more leisure for play. HenryBayard's chief pleasures were walking, riding, and playing all manner ofgames, from jack-straws to chess, with the three younger sisters, and wehave often said that the three years he passed in Johnstown were themost delightful of our girlhood. 

Immediately after the death of my brother, a journey was planned tovisit our grandmother Cady, who lived in Canaan, Columbia County, abouttwenty miles from Albany. My two younger sisters and myself had neverbeen outside of our own county before, and the very thought of a journeyroused our enthusiasm to the highest pitch. On a bright day in Septemberwe started, packed in two carriages. We were wild with delight as wedrove down the Mohawk Valley, with its beautiful river and its manybridges and ferryboats. When we reached Schenectady, the first city wehad ever seen, we stopped to dine at the old Given's Hotel, where webroke loose from all the moorings of propriety on beholding the paper onthe dining-room wall, illustrating in brilliant colors the great eventsin sacred history. There were the Patriarchs, with flowing beards and ingorgeous attire; Abraham, offering up Isaac; Joseph, with his coat ofmany colors, thrown into a pit by his brethren; Noah's ark on an oceanof waters; Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea; Rebecca at the well, andMoses in the bulrushes. All these distinguished personages were familiarto us, and to see them here for the first time in living colors, madesilence and eating impossible. We dashed around the room, calling toeach other: "Oh, Kate, look here!" "Oh, Madge, look there!" "See littleMoses!" "See the angels on Jacob's ladder!" Our exclamations could notbe kept within bounds. The guests were amused beyond description, whilemy mother and elder sisters were equally mortified; but Mr. Bayard, whoappreciated our childish surprise and delight, smiled and said: "I'lltake them around and show them the pictures, and then they will be ableto dine, " which we finally did. 

On our way to Albany we were forced to listen to no end of dissertationson manners, and severe criticisms on our behavior at the hotel, but wewere too happy and astonished with all we saw to take a subjective viewof ourselves. Even Peter in his new livery, who had not seen much morethan we had, while looking out of the corners of his eyes, maintained aquiet dignity and conjured us "not to act as if we had just come out ofthe woods and had never seen anything before. " However, there areconditions in the child soul in which repression is impossible, when themind takes in nothing but its own enjoyment, and when even the sense ofhearing is lost in that of sight. The whole party awoke to that fact atlast. Children are not actors. We never had experienced anything likethis journey, and how could we help being surprised and delighted?

When we drove into Albany, the first large city we had ever visited, weexclaimed, "Why, it's general training, here!" We had acquired our ideasof crowds from our country militia reviews. Fortunately, there was nopictorial wall paper in the old City Hotel. But the decree had goneforth that, on the remainder of the journey, our meals would be servedin a private room, with Peter to wait on us. This seemed like going backto the nursery days and was very humiliating. But eating, even there, was difficult, as we could hear the band from the old museum, and, asour windows opened on the street, the continual panorama of people andcarriages passing by was quite as enticing as the Bible scenes inSchenectady. In the evening we walked around to see the city lighted, tolook into the shop windows, and to visit the museum. The next morning westarted for Canaan, our enthusiasm still unabated, though strong hopeswere expressed that we would be toned down with the fatigues of thefirst day's journey. 

The large farm with its cattle, sheep, hens, ducks, turkeys, and geese;its creamery, looms, and spinning wheel; its fruits and vegetables; thedrives among the grand old hills; the blessed old grandmother, and themany aunts, uncles, and cousins to kiss, all this kept us still in awhirlpool of excitement. Our joy bubbled over of itself; it was beyondour control. After spending a delightful week at Canaan, we departed, with an addition to our party, much to Peter's disgust, of a bright, coal-black boy of fifteen summers. Peter kept grumbling that he hadchildren enough to look after already, but, as the boy was handsome andintelligent, could read, write, play on the jewsharp and banjo, sing, dance, and stand on his head, we were charmed with this new-foundtreasure, who proved later to be a great family blessing. We were lessvivacious on the return trip. Whether this was due to Peter's untiringefforts to keep us within bounds, or whether the novelty of the journeywas in a measure gone, it is difficult to determine, but we evidentlywere not so buoyant and were duly complimented on our good behavior. 

When we reached home and told our village companions what we had seen inour extensive travels (just seventy miles from home) they were filledwith wonder, and we became heroines in their estimation. After this wetook frequent journeys to Saratoga, the Northern Lakes, Utica, andPeterboro, but were never again so entirely swept from our feet as withthe biblical illustrations in the dining room of the old Given's Hotel. 

As my father's office joined the house, I spent there much of my time, when out of school, listening to the clients stating their cases, talking with the students, and reading the laws in regard to woman. Inour Scotch neighborhood many men still retained the old feudal ideas ofwomen and property. Fathers, at their death, would will the bulk oftheir property to the eldest son, with the proviso that the mother wasto have a home with him. Hence it was not unusual for the mother, whohad brought all the property into the family, to be made an unhappydependent on the bounty of an uncongenial daughter-in-law and adissipated son. The tears and complaints of the women who came to myfather for legal advice touched my heart and early drew my attention tothe injustice and cruelty of the laws. As the practice of the law was myfather's business, I could not exactly understand why he could notalleviate the sufferings of these women. So, in order to enlighten me, he would take down his books and show me the inexorable statutes. Thestudents, observing my interest, would amuse themselves by reading to meall the worst laws they could find, over which I would laugh and cry byturns. One Christmas morning I went into the office to show them, amongother of my presents, a new coral necklace and bracelets. They alladmired the jewelry and then began to tease me with hypothetical casesof future ownership. "Now, " said Henry Bayard, "if in due time youshould be my wife, those ornaments would be mine; I could take them andlock them up, and you could never wear them except with my permission. Icould even exchange them for a box of cigars, and you could watch themevaporate in smoke. "

With this constant bantering from students and the sad complaints of thewomen, my mind was sorely perplexed. So when, from time to time, myattention was called to these odious laws, I would mark them with apencil, and becoming more and more convinced of the necessity of takingsome active measures against these unjust provisions, I resolved toseize the first opportunity, when alone in the office, to cut every oneof them out of the books; supposing my father and his library were thebeginning and the end of the law. However, this mutilation of hisvolumes was never accomplished, for dear old Flora Campbell, to whom Iconfided my plan for the amelioration of the wrongs of my unhappy sex, warned my father of what I proposed to do. Without letting me know thathe had discovered my secret, he explained to me one evening how lawswere made, the large number of lawyers and libraries there were all overthe State, and that if his library should burn up it would make nodifference in woman's condition. "When you are grown up, and able toprepare a speech, " said he, "you must go down to Albany and talk to thelegislators; tell them all you have seen in this office--the sufferingsof these Scotchwomen, robbed of their inheritance and left dependent ontheir unworthy sons, and, if you can persuade them to pass new laws, theold ones will be a dead letter. " Thus was the future object of my lifeforeshadowed and my duty plainly outlined by him who was most opposedto my public career when, in due time, I entered upon it. 

Until I was sixteen years old, I was a faithful student in the JohnstownAcademy with a class of boys. Though I was the only girl in the higherclasses of mathematics and the languages, yet, in our plays, all thegirls and boys mingled freely together. In running races, slidingdownhill, and snowballing, we made no distinction of sex. True, the boyswould carry the school books and pull the sleighs up hill for theirfavorite girls, but equality was the general basis of our schoolrelations. I dare say the boys did not make their snowballs quite sohard when pelting the girls, nor wash their faces with the samevehemence as they did each other's, but there was no public evidence ofpartiality. However, if any boy was too rough or took advantage of agirl smaller than himself, he was promptly thrashed by his fellows. There was an unwritten law and public sentiment in that little Academyworld that enabled us to study and play together with the greatestfreedom and harmony. 

From the academy the boys of my class went to Union College atSchenectady. When those with whom I had studied and contended for prizesfor five years came to bid me good-by, and I learned of the barrier thatprevented me from following in their footsteps--"no girls admittedhere"--my vexation and mortification knew no bounds. I remember, now, how proud and handsome the boys looked in their new clothes, as theyjumped into the old stage coach and drove off, and how lonely I feltwhen they were gone and I had nothing to do, for the plans for my futurewere yet undetermined. Again I felt more keenly than ever thehumiliation of the distinctions made on the ground of sex. 

My time was now occupied with riding on horseback, studying the game ofchess, and continually squabbling with the law students over the rightsof women. Something was always coming up in the experiences of everydaylife, or in the books we were reading, to give us fresh topics forargument. They would read passages from the British classics quite asaggravating as the laws. They delighted in extracts from Shakespeare, especially from "The Taming of the Shrew, " an admirable satire in itselfon the old common law of England. I hated Petruchio as if he were a realman. Young Bayard would recite with unction the famous reply of Milton'sideal woman to Adam: "God thy law, thou mine. " The Bible, too, wasbrought into requisition. In fact it seemed to me that every book taughtthe "divinely ordained" headship of man; but my mind never yielded tothis popular heresy. 

CHAPTER III. 

GIRLHOOD. 

Mrs. Willard's Seminary at Troy was the fashionable school in mygirlhood, and in the winter of 1830, with upward of a hundred othergirls, I found myself an active participant in all the joys and sorrowsof that institution. When in family council it was decided to send me tothat intellectual Mecca, I did not receive the announcement with unmixedsatisfaction, as I had fixed my mind on Union College. The thought of aschool without boys, who had been to me such a stimulus both in studyand play, seemed to my imagination dreary and profitless. 

The one remarkable feature of my journey to Troy was the railroad fromSchenectady to Albany, the first ever laid in this country. The mannerof ascending a high hill going out of the city would now strikeengineers as stupid to the last degree. The passenger cars were pulledup by a train, loaded with stones, descending the hill. The morerational way of tunneling through the hill or going around it had notyet dawned on our Dutch ancestors. At every step of my journey to Troy Ifelt that I was treading on my pride, and thus in a hopeless frame ofmind I began my boarding-school career. I had already studied everythingthat was taught there except French, music, and dancing, so I devotedmyself to these accomplishments. As I had a good voice I enjoyedsinging, with a guitar accompaniment, and, having a good ear for time, Iappreciated the harmony in music and motion and took great delight indancing. The large house, the society of so many girls, the walks aboutthe city, the novelty of everything made the new life more enjoyablethan I had anticipated. To be sure I missed the boys, with whom I hadgrown up, played with for years, and later measured my intellectualpowers with, but, as they became a novelty, there was new zest inoccasionally seeing them. After I had been there a short time, I heard acall one day: "Heads out!" I ran with the rest and exclaimed, "What isit?" expecting to see a giraffe or some other wonder from Barnum'sMuseum. "Why, don't you see those boys?" said one. "Oh, " I replied, "isthat all? I have seen boys all my life. " When visiting family friends inthe city, we were in the way of making the acquaintance of their sons, and as all social relations were strictly forbidden, there was a newinterest in seeing them. As they were not allowed to call upon us orwrite notes, unless they were brothers or cousins, we had, in time, alarge number of kinsmen. 

There was an intense interest to me now in writing notes, receivingcalls, and joining the young men in the streets for a walk, such as Ihad never known when in constant association with them at school and inour daily amusements. Shut up with girls, most of them older thanmyself, I heard many subjects discussed of which I had never thoughtbefore, and in a manner it were better I had never heard. The healthfulrestraint always existing between boys and girls in conversation is aptto be relaxed with either sex alone. In all my intimate association withboys up to that period, I cannot recall one word or act for criticism, but I cannot say the same of the girls during the three years I passedat the seminary in Troy. My own experience proves to me that it is agrave mistake to send boys and girls to separate institutions oflearning, especially at the most impressible age. The stimulus of sexpromotes alike a healthy condition of the intellectual and the moralfaculties and gives to both a development they never can acquire alone. 

Mrs. Willard, having spent several months in Europe, did not returnuntil I had been at the seminary some time. I well remember her arrival, and the joy with which she was greeted by the teachers and pupils whohad known her before. She was a splendid-looking woman, then in herprime, and fully realized my idea of a queen. I doubt whether any royalpersonage in the Old World could have received her worshipers with moregrace and dignity than did this far-famed daughter of the Republic. Shewas one of the remarkable women of that period, and did a greateducational work for her sex. She gave free scholarships to a largenumber of promising girls, fitting them for teachers, with a provisothat, when the opportunity arose, they should, in turn, educate others. 

I shall never forget one incident that occasioned me much unhappiness. Ihad written a very amusing composition, describing my room. A friendcame in to see me just as I had finished it, and, as she asked me toread it to her, I did so. She enjoyed it very much and proposed anexchange. She said the rooms were all so nearly alike that, with alittle alteration, she could use it. Being very susceptible to flattery, her praise of my production won a ready assent; but when I read herplatitudes I was sorry I had changed, and still more so in the_denouement_. 

Those selected to prepare compositions read them before the wholeschool. My friend's was received with great laughter and applause. Theone I read not only fell flat, but nearly prostrated me also. As soon asI had finished, one of the young ladies left the room and, returning ina few moments with her composition book, laid it before the teacher whopresided that day, showing her the same composition I had just read. Iwas called up at once to explain, but was so amazed and confounded thatI could not speak, and I looked the personification of guilt. I saw at aglance the contemptible position I occupied and felt as if the last dayhad come, that I stood before the judgment seat and had heard the awfulsentence pronounced, "Depart ye wicked into everlasting punishment. " HowI escaped from that scene to my own room I do not know. I was toowretched for tears. I sat alone for a long time when a gentle tapannounced my betrayer. She put her arms around me affectionately andkissed me again and again. 

"Oh!" she said, "you are a hero. You went through that trying ordeallike a soldier. I was so afraid, when you were pressed with questions, that the whole truth would come out and I be forced to stand in yourplace. I am not so brave as you; I could not endure it. Now that you arethrough it and know how bitter a trial it is, promise that you will saveme from the same experience. You are so good and noble I know you willnot betray me. "

In this supreme moment of misery and disgrace, her loving words and warmembrace were like balm to my bruised soul and I readily promised allshe asked. The girl had penetrated the weak point in my character. Iloved flattery. Through that means she got my composition in the firstplace, pledged me to silence in the second place, and so confused mymoral perceptions that I really thought it praiseworthy to shelter herfrom what I had suffered. However, without betrayal on my part, thetrick came to light through the very means she took to make concealmentsure. After compositions were read they were handed over to a certainteacher for criticism. Miss ---- had copied mine, and returned to me theoriginal. I had not copied hers, so the two were in the samehandwriting--one with my name outside and one with Miss ----'s. 

As I stood well in school, both for scholarship and behavior, my suddenfall from grace occasioned no end of discussion. So, as soon as theteacher discovered the two compositions in Miss ----'s writing, she cameto me to inquire how I got one of Miss ----'s compositions. She said, "Where is yours that you wrote for that day?"

Taking it from my portfolio, I replied, "Here it is. "

She then asked, "Did you copy it from her book?"

I replied, "No; I wrote it myself. "

"Then why did you not read your own?"

"We agreed to change, " said I. 

"Did you know that Miss ---- had copied that from the book of anotheryoung lady?"

"No, not until I was accused of doing it myself before the wholeschool. "

"Why did you not defend yourself on the spot?"

"I could not speak, neither did I know what to say. "

"Why have you allowed yourself to remain in such a false position for awhole week?"

"I do not know. "

"Suppose I had not found this out, did you intend to keep silent?"

"Yes, " I replied. 

"Did Miss ---- ask you to do so?"

"Yes. "

I had been a great favorite with this teacher, but she was so disgustedwith my stupidity, as she called my timidity, that she said:

"Really, my child, you have not acted in this matter as if you hadordinary common sense. "

So little do grown people, in familiar surroundings, appreciate theconfusion of a child's faculties, under new and trying experiences. Whenpoor Miss ----'s turn came to stand up before the whole school and takethe burden on her own shoulders she had so cunningly laid on mine, Ireadily shed the tears for her I could not summon for myself. This wasmy first sad lesson in human duplicity. 

This episode, unfortunately, destroyed in a measure my confidence in mycompanions and made me suspicious even of those who came to me withappreciative words. Up to this time I had accepted all things as theyseemed on the surface. Now I began to wonder what lay behind the visibleconditions about me. Perhaps the experience was beneficial, as it isquite necessary for a young girl, thrown wholly on herself for the firsttime among strangers, to learn caution in all she says and does. Theatmosphere of home life, where all disguises and pretensions are thrownoff, is quite different from a large school of girls, with the pettyjealousies and antagonisms that arise in daily competition in theirdress, studies, accomplishments, and amusements. 

The next happening in Troy that seriously influenced my character wasthe advent of the Rev. Charles G. Finney, a pulpit orator, who, as aterrifier of human souls, proved himself the equal of Savonarola. Heheld a protracted meeting in the Rev. Dr. Beaman's church, which many ofmy schoolmates attended. The result of six weeks of untiring effort onthe part of Mr. Finney and his confreres was one of those intenserevival seasons that swept over the city and through the seminary likean epidemic, attacking in its worst form the most susceptible. Owing tomy gloomy Calvinistic training in the old Scotch Presbyterian church, and my vivid imagination, I was one of the first victims. We attendedall the public services, beside the daily prayer and experience meetingsheld in the seminary. Our studies, for the time, held a subordinateplace to the more important duty of saving our souls. 

To state the idea of conversion and salvation as then understood, onecan readily see from our present standpoint that nothing could be morepuzzling and harrowing to the young mind. The revival fairly started, the most excitable were soon on the anxious seat. There we learned thetotal depravity of human nature and the sinner's awful danger ofeverlasting punishment. This was enlarged upon until the most innocentgirl believed herself a monster of iniquity and felt certain of eternaldamnation. Then God's hatred of sin was emphasized and hisirreconcilable position toward the sinner so justified that one feltlike a miserable, helpless, forsaken worm of the dust in trying toapproach him, even in prayer. 

Having brought you into a condition of profound humility, the onlycardinal virtue for one under conviction, in the depths of your despairyou were told that it required no herculean effort on your part to betransformed into an angel, to be reconciled to God, to escape endlessperdition. The way to salvation was short and simple. We had naught todo but to repent and believe and give our hearts to Jesus, who was everready to receive them. How to do all this was the puzzling question. Talking with Dr. Finney one day, I said:

"I cannot understand what I am to do. If you should tell me to go to thetop of the church steeple and jump off, I would readily do it, ifthereby I could save my soul; but I do not know how to go to Jesus. "

"Repent and believe, " said he, "that is all you have to do to be happyhere and hereafter. "

"I am very sorry, " I replied, "for all the evil I have done, and Ibelieve all you tell me, and the more sincerely I believe, the moreunhappy I am. "

With the natural reaction from despair to hope many of us imaginedourselves converted, prayed and gave our experiences in the meetings, and at times rejoiced in the thought that we were Christians--chosenchildren of God--rather than sinners and outcasts. 

But Dr. Finney's terrible anathemas on the depravity and deceitfulnessof the human heart soon shortened our newborn hopes. His appearance inthe pulpit on these memorable occasions is indelibly impressed on mymind. I can see him now, his great eyes rolling around the congregationand his arms flying about in the air like those of a windmill. Oneevening he described hell and the devil and the long procession ofsinners being swept down the rapids, about to make the awful plungeinto the burning depths of liquid fire below, and the rejoicing hosts inthe inferno coming up to meet them with the shouts of the devils echoingthrough the vaulted arches. He suddenly halted, and, pointing his indexfinger at the supposed procession, he exclaimed:

"There, do you not see them!"

I was wrought up to such a pitch that I actually jumped up and gazed inthe direction to which he pointed, while the picture glowed before myeyes and remained with me for months afterward. I cannot forbear sayingthat, although high respect is due to the intellectual, moral, andspiritual gifts of the venerable ex-president of Oberlin College, suchpreaching worked incalculable harm to the very souls he sought to save. Fear of the judgment seized my soul. Visions of the lost haunted mydreams. Mental anguish prostrated my health. Dethronement of my reasonwas apprehended by friends. But he was sincere, so peace to his ashes!Returning home, I often at night roused my father from his slumbers topray for me, lest I should be cast into the bottomless pit beforemorning. 

To change the current of my thoughts, a trip was planned to Niagara, andit was decided that the subject of religion was to be tabooedaltogether. Accordingly our party, consisting of my sister, her husband, my father and myself, started in our private carriage, and for six weeksI heard nothing on the subject. About this time Gall and Spurzheimpublished their works on phrenology, followed by Combe's "Constitutionof Man, " his "Moral Philosophy, " and many other liberal works, all sorational and opposed to the old theologies that they produced a profoundimpression on my brother-in-law's mind. As we had these books with us, reading and discussing by the way, we all became deeply interested inthe new ideas. Thus, after many months of weary wandering in theintellectual labyrinth of "The Fall of Man, " "Original Sin, " "TotalDepravity, " "God's Wrath, " "Satan's Triumph, " "The Crucifixion, " "TheAtonement, " and "Salvation by Faith, " I found my way out of the darknessinto the clear sunlight of Truth. My religious superstitions gave placeto rational ideas based on scientific facts, and in proportion, as Ilooked at everything from a new standpoint, I grew more and more happy, day by day. Thus, with a delightful journey in the month of June, anentire change in my course of reading and the current of my thoughts, mymind was restored to its normal condition. I view it as one of thegreatest crimes to shadow the minds of the young with these gloomysuperstitions; and with fears of the unknown and the unknowable topoison all their joy in life. 

After the restraints of childhood at home and in school, what a periodof irrepressible joy and freedom comes to us in girlhood with the firsttaste of liberty. Then is our individuality in a measure recognized andour feelings and opinions consulted; then we decide where and when wewill come and go, what we will eat, drink, wear, and do. To suit one'sown fancy in clothes, to buy what one likes, and wear what one choosesis a great privilege to most young people. To go out at pleasure, towalk, to ride, to drive, with no one to say us nay or question our rightto liberty, this is indeed like a birth into a new world of happinessand freedom. This is the period, too, when the emotions rule us, and weidealize everything in life; when love and hope make the present anecstasy and the future bright with anticipation. 

Then comes that dream of bliss that for weeks and months throws a haloof glory round the most ordinary characters in every-day life, holdingthe strongest and most common-sense young men and women in a thraldomfrom which few mortals escape. The period when love, in soft silvertones, whispers his first words of adoration, painting our graces andvirtues day by day in living colors in poetry and prose, stealthilypunctuated ever and anon with a kiss or fond embrace. What dignity itadds to a young girl's estimate of herself when some strong man makesher feel that in her hands rest his future peace and happiness! Thoughthese seasons of intoxication may come once to all, yet they are seldomrepeated. How often in after life we long for one more such rapturousdream of bliss, one more season of supreme human love and passion!

After leaving school, until my marriage, I had the most pleasant yearsof my girlhood. With frequent visits to a large circle of friends andrelatives in various towns and cities, the monotony of home life wassufficiently broken to make our simple country pleasures alwaysdelightful and enjoyable. An entirely new life now opened to me. The oldbondage of fear of the visible and the invisible was broken and, nolonger subject to absolute authority, I rejoiced in the dawn of a newday of freedom in thought and action. 

My brother-in-law, Edward Bayard, ten years my senior, was aninestimable blessing to me at this time, especially as my mind was justthen opening to the consideration of all the varied problems of life. Tome and my sisters he was a companion in all our amusements, a teacherin the higher departments of knowledge, and a counselor in all ouryouthful trials and disappointments. He was of a metaphysical turn ofmind, and in the pursuit of truth was in no way trammeled by popularsuperstitions. He took nothing for granted and, like Socrates, wentabout asking questions. Nothing pleased him more than to get a bevy ofbright young girls about him and teach them how to think clearly andreason logically. 

One great advantage of the years my sisters and myself spent at the TroySeminary was the large number of pleasant acquaintances we made there, many of which ripened into lifelong friendships. From time to time manyof our classmates visited us, and all alike enjoyed the intellectualfencing in which my brother-in-law drilled them. He discoursed with uson law, philosophy, political economy, history, and poetry, and togetherwe read novels without number. The long winter evenings thus passedpleasantly, Mr. Bayard alternately talking and reading aloud Scott, Bulwer, James, Cooper, and Dickens, whose works were just then comingout in numbers from week to week, always leaving us in suspense at themost critical point of the story. Our readings were varied withrecitations, music, dancing, and games. 

As we all enjoyed brisk exercise, even with the thermometer below zero, we took long walks and sleighrides during the day, and thus the wintermonths glided quickly by, while the glorious summer on those blue hillswas a period of unmixed enjoyment. At this season we arose at five inthe morning for a long ride on horseback through the beautiful MohawkValley and over the surrounding hills. Every road and lane in thatregion was as familiar to us and our ponies, as were the trees to thesquirrels we frightened as we cantered by their favorite resorts. 

Part of the time Margaret Christie, a young girl of Scotch descent, wasa member of our family circle. She taught us French, music, and dancing. Our days were too short for all we had to do, for our time was notwholly given to pleasure. We were required to keep our rooms in order, mend and make our clothes, and do our own ironing. The latter was one ofmy mother's politic requirements, to make our laundry lists as short aspossible. 

Ironing on hot days in summer was a sore trial to all of us; but MissChristie, being of an inventive turn of mind, soon taught us a short wayout of it. She folded and smoothed her undergarments with her hands andthen sat on them for a specified time. We all followed her example andthus utilized the hours devoted to our French lessons and, while reading"Corinne" and "Télémaque, " in this primitive style we ironed ourclothes. But for dresses, collars and cuffs, and pocket handkerchiefs, we were compelled to wield the hot iron, hence with these articles weused all due economy, and my mother's object was thus accomplished. 

As I had become sufficiently philosophical to talk over my religiousexperiences calmly with my classmates who had been with me through theFinney revival meetings, we all came to the same conclusion--that we hadpassed through no remarkable change and that we had not been born again, as they say, for we found our tastes and enjoyments the same as ever. Mybrother-in-law explained to us the nature of the delusion we had allexperienced, the physical conditions, the mental processes, the churchmachinery by which such excitements are worked up, and the impositionsto which credulous minds are necessarily subjected. As we had all beenthrough that period of depression and humiliation, and had beenoppressed at times with the feeling that all our professions were arranthypocrisy and that our last state was worse than our first, he helped usto understand these workings of the human mind and reconciled us to themore rational condition in which we now found ourselves. He never grewweary of expounding principles to us and dissipating the fogs and miststhat gather over young minds educated in an atmosphere of superstition. 

We had a constant source of amusement and vexation in the students in myfather's office. A succession of them was always coming fresh fromcollege and full of conceit. Aching to try their powers of debate ongraduates from the Troy Seminary, they politely questioned all ourtheories and assertions. However, with my brother-in-law's training inanalysis and logic, we were a match for any of them. Nothing pleased mebetter than a long argument with them on woman's equality, which I triedto prove by a diligent study of the books they read and the games theyplayed. I confess that I did not study so much for a love of the truthor my own development, in these days, as to make those young menrecognize my equality. I soon noticed that, after losing a few games ofchess, my opponent talked less of masculine superiority. Sister Madgewould occasionally rush to the defense with an emphatic "Fudge for theselaws, all made by men! I'll never obey one of them. And as to thestudents with their impertinent talk of superiority, all they need issuch a shaking up as I gave the most disagreeable one yesterday. Iinvited him to take a ride on horseback. He accepted promptly, and saidhe would be most happy to go. Accordingly I told Peter to saddle thetoughest-mouthed, hardest-trotting carriage horse in the stable. Mountedon my swift pony, I took a ten-mile canter as fast as I could go, withthat superior being at my heels calling, as he found breath, for me tostop, which I did at last and left him in the hands of Peter, half deadat his hotel, where he will be laid out, with all his marvelousmasculine virtues, for a week at least. Now do not waste your argumentson these prigs from Union College. Take each, in turn, the ten-miles'circuit on 'Old Boney' and they'll have no breath left to prate ofwoman's inferiority. You might argue with them all day, and you couldnot make them feel so small as I made that popinjay feel in one hour. Iknew 'Old Boney' would keep up with me, if he died for it, and that myescort could neither stop nor dismount, except by throwing himself fromthe saddle. "

"Oh, Madge!" I exclaimed; "what will you say when he meets you again?"

"If he complains, I will say 'the next time you ride see that you have acurb bit before starting. ' Surely, a man ought to know what is necessaryto manage a horse, and not expect a woman to tell him. "

Our lives were still further varied and intensified by the usual numberof flirtations, so called, more or less lasting or evanescent, from allof which I emerged, as from my religious experiences, in a more rationalframe of mind. We had been too much in the society of boys and younggentlemen, and knew too well their real character, to idealize the sexin general. In addition to our own observations, we had the advantageof our brother-in-law's wisdom. Wishing to save us as long as possiblefrom all matrimonial entanglements, he was continually unveiling thosewith whom he associated, and so critically portraying their intellectualand moral condition that it was quite impossible, in our most worshipfulmoods, to make gods of any of the sons of Adam. 

However, in spite of all our own experiences and of all the warningwords of wisdom from those who had seen life in its many phases, weentered the charmed circle at last, all but one marrying into the legalprofession, with its odious statute laws and infamous decisions. Andthis, after reading Blackstone, Kent, and Story, and thoroughlyunderstanding the status of the wife under the old common law ofEngland, which was in force at that time in most of the States of theUnion. 

CHAPTER IV. 

LIFE AT PETERBORO. 

The year, with us, was never considered complete without a visit toPeterboro, N. Y. , the home of Gerrit Smith. Though he was a reformer andwas very radical in many of his ideas, yet, being a man of broadsympathies, culture, wealth, and position, he drew around him manyfriends of the most conservative opinions. He was a man of finepresence, rare physical beauty, most affable and courteous in manner, and his hospitalities were generous to an extreme, and dispensed to allclasses of society. 

Every year representatives from the Oneida tribe of Indians visited him. His father had early purchased of them large tracts of land, and therewas a tradition among them that, as an equivalent for the good bargainsof the father, they had a right to the son's hospitality, with annualgifts of clothing and provisions. The slaves, too, had heard of GerritSmith, the abolitionist, and of Peterboro as one of the safe points _enroute_ for Canada. His mansion was, in fact, one of the stations on the"underground railroad" for slaves escaping from bondage. Hence they, too, felt that they had a right to a place under his protecting roof. Onsuch occasions the barn and the kitchen floor were utilized as chambersfor the black man from the southern plantation and the red man from hishome in the forest. 

The spacious home was always enlivened with choice society from everypart of the country. There one would meet members of the families of theold Dutch aristocracy, the Van Rensselaers, the Van Vechtens, theSchuylers, the Livingstons, the Bleeckers, the Brinkerhoffs, the TenEycks, the Millers, the Seymours, the Cochranes, the Biddles, theBarclays, the Wendells, and many others. 

As the lady of the house, Ann Carroll Fitzhugh, was the daughter of awealthy slaveholder of Maryland, many agreeable Southerners were oftenamong the guests. Our immediate family relatives were well representedby General John Cochrane and his sisters, General Baird and his wifefrom West Point, the Fitzhughs from Oswego and Geneseo, the Backuses andTallmans from Rochester, and the Swifts from Geneva. Here one was sureto meet scholars, philosophers, philanthropists, judges, bishops, clergymen, and statesmen. 

Judge Alfred Conkling, the father of Roscoe Conkling, was, in his lateyears, frequently seen at Peterboro. Tall and stately, after all life'stroubled scenes, financial losses and domestic sorrows, he used to saythere was no spot on earth that seemed so like his idea of Paradise. Theproud, reserved judge was unaccustomed to manifestations of affectionand tender interest in his behalf, and when Gerrit, taking him by bothhands would, in his softest tones say, "Good-morning, " and inquire howhe had slept and what he would like to do that day, and Nancy wouldgreet him with equal warmth and pin a little bunch of roses in hisbuttonhole, I have seen the tears in his eyes. Their warm sympathies andsweet simplicity of manner melted the sternest natures and made the mostreserved amiable. There never was such an atmosphere of love and peace, of freedom and good cheer, in any other home I visited. And this was theuniversal testimony of those who were guests at Peterboro. To goanywhere else, after a visit there, was like coming down from the divineheights into the valley of humiliation. 

How changed from the early days when, as strict Presbyterians, theybelieved in all the doctrines of Calvin! Then, an indefinite gloompervaded their home. Their consciences were diseased. They attached suchundue importance to forms that they went through three kinds of baptism. At one time Nancy would read nothing but the Bible, sing nothing buthymns, and play only sacred music. She felt guilty if she talked on anysubject except religion. She was, in all respects, a fitting mate forher attractive husband. Exquisitely refined in feeling and manner, beautiful in face and form, earnest and sincere, she sympathized withhim in all his ideas of religion and reform. Together they passedthrough every stage of theological experience, from the uncertain groundof superstition and speculation to the solid foundation of science andreason. The position of the Church in the anti-slavery conflict, openingas it did all questions of ecclesiastical authority, Bibleinterpretation, and church discipline, awakened them to new thought andbroader views on religious subjects, and eventually emancipated thementirely from the old dogmas and formalities of their faith, and liftedthem into the cheerful atmosphere in which they passed the remainder oftheir lives. Their only daughter, Elizabeth, added greatly to theattractions of the home circle, as she drew many young people round her. Beside her personal charm she was the heiress of a vast estate and hadmany admirers. The favored one was Charles Dudley Miller of Utica, nephew of Mrs. Blandina Bleecker Dudley, founder of the AlbanyObservatory. At the close of his college life Mr. Miller had not onlymastered the languages, mathematics, rhetoric, and logic, but hadlearned the secret windings of the human heart. He understood the art ofpleasing. 

These were the times when the anti-slavery question was up for hotdiscussion. In all the neighboring towns conventions were held in whichJames G. Birney, a Southern gentleman who had emancipated his slaves, Charles Stuart of Scotland, and George Thompson of England, Garrison, Phillips, May, Beriah Greene, Foster, Abby Kelly, Lucretia Mott, Douglass, and others took part. Here, too, John Brown, Sanborn, Morton, and Frederick Douglass met to talk over that fatal movement on Harper'sFerry. On the question of temperance, also, the people were in aferment. Dr. Cheever's pamphlet, "Deacon Giles' Distillery, " wasscattered far and wide, and, as he was sued for libel, the question wasdiscussed in the courts as well as at every fireside. Then came theFather Matthew and Washingtonian movements, and the position of theChurch on these questions intensified and embittered the conflict. Thisbrought the Cheevers, the Pierponts, the Delevans, the Nortons, andtheir charming wives to Peterboro. It was with such company and varieddiscussions on every possible phase of political, religious, and sociallife that I spent weeks every year. Gerrit Smith was cool and calm indebate, and, as he was armed at all points on these subjects, he couldafford to be patient and fair with an opponent, whether on the platformor at the fireside. These rousing arguments at Peterboro made sociallife seem tame and profitless elsewhere, and the youngest of us feltthat the conclusions reached in this school of philosophy were not to bequestioned. The sisters of General Cochrane, in disputes with theirDutch cousins in Schenectady and Albany, would end all controversy bysaying, "This question was fully discussed at Peterboro, and settled. "

The youngsters frequently put the lessons of freedom and individualrights they heard so much of into practice, and relieved their brainsfrom the constant strain of argument on first principles, by the wildesthilarity in dancing, all kinds of games, and practical jokes carriedbeyond all bounds of propriety. These romps generally took place at Mr. Miller's. He used to say facetiously, that they talked a good deal aboutliberty over the way, but he kept the goddess under his roof. Onememorable occasion in which our enthusiasm was kept at white heat fortwo hours I must try to describe, though words cannot do it justice, asit was pre-eminently a spectacular performance. The imagination evencannot do justice to the limp, woe-begone appearance of the actors inthe closing scene. These romps were conducted on a purely democraticbasis, without regard to color, sex, or previous condition of servitude. 

It was rather a cold day in the month of March, when "Cousin Charley, "as we called Mr. Miller, was superintending some men who were laying aplank walk in the rear of his premises. Some half dozen of us wereinvited to an early tea at good Deacon Huntington's. Immediately afterdinner, Miss Fitzhugh and Miss Van Schaack decided to take a nap, thatthey might appear as brilliant as possible during the evening. That theymight not be late, as they invariably were, Cousin Lizzie and I decidedto rouse them in good season with a generous sprinkling of cold water. In vain they struggled to keep the blankets around them; with equalforce we pulled them away, and, whenever a stray finger or toe appeared, we brought fresh batteries to bear, until they saw that passiveresistance must give place to active hostility. We were armed with twowatering pots. They armed themselves with two large-sized syringes usedfor showering potato bugs. With these weapons they gave us chasedownstairs. We ran into a closet and held the door shut. They quietlywaited our forthcoming. As soon as we opened the door to peep out, MissFitzhugh, who was large and strong, pulled it wide open and showered uswith a vengeance. Then they fled into a large pantry where stood severalpans of milk. 

At this stage Cousin Charley, hearing the rumpus, came to ourassistance. He locked them in the pantry and returned to his work, whereupon they opened the window and showered him with milk, while he, in turn, pelted them with wet clothes, soaking in tubs near by. As theywere thinly clad, wet to the skin, and the cold March wind blew roundthem (we were all in fatigue costume in starting) they implored us tolet them out, which we did, and, in return for our kindness, they gaveus a broadside of milk in our faces. Cousin Lizzie and I fled to thedark closet, where they locked us in. After long, weary waiting theycame to offer us terms of capitulation. Lizzie agreed to fill their gunswith milk, and give them our watering pots full of water, and I agreedto call Cousin Charley under my window until they emptied the contentsof guns and pots on his head. My room was on the first floor, and MissFitzhugh's immediately overhead. On these terms we accepted our freedom. Accordingly, I gently raised the window and called Charleyconfidentially within whispering distance, when down came a shower ofwater. As he stepped back to look up and see whence it came, and whomade the attack, a stream of milk hit him on the forehead, his heelsstruck a plank, and he fell backward, to all appearance knocked downwith a stream of milk. His humiliation was received with shouts ofderisive laughter, and even the carpenters at work laid down theirhammers and joined in the chorus; but his revenge was swift and cappedthe climax. Cold and wet as we all were, and completely tired out, wecommenced to disrobe and get ready for the tea party. Unfortunately Ihad forgotten to lock my door, and in walked Cousin Charley with a quartbottle of liquid blacking, which he prepared to empty on my devotedhead. I begged so eloquently and trembled so at the idea of being dyedblack, that he said he would let me off on one condition, and that wasto get him, by some means, into Miss Fitzhugh's room. So I ran screamingup the stairs, as if hotly pursued by the enemy, and begged her to letme in. She cautiously opened the door, but when she saw Charley behindme she tried to force it shut. However, he was too quick for her. He hadone leg and arm in; but, at that stage of her toilet, to let him in wasimpossible, and there they stood, equally strong, firmly braced, she onone side of the door and he on the other. But the blacking he wasdetermined she should have; so, gauging her probable position, with onedesperate effort he squeezed in a little farther and, raising thebottle, he poured the contents on her head. The blacking went streamingdown over her face, white robe, and person, and left her looking morelike a bronze fury than one of Eve's most charming daughters. A yard ormore of the carpet was ruined, the wallpaper and bedclothes spattered, and the poor victim was unfit to be seen for a week at least. Charleyhad a good excuse for his extreme measures, for, as we all by turnplayed our tricks on him, it was necessary to keep us in some fear ofpunishment. This was but one of the many outrageous pranks weperpetrated on each other. To see us a few hours later, all absorbed inan anti-slavery or temperance convention, or dressed in our best, inhigh discourse with the philosophers, one would never think we couldhave been guilty of such consummate follies. It was, however, but thenatural reaction from the general serious trend of our thoughts. 

It was in Peterboro, too, that I first met one who was then consideredthe most eloquent and impassioned orator on the anti-slavery platform, Henry B. Stanton. He had come over from Utica with Alvin Stewart'sbeautiful daughter, to whom report said he was engaged; but, as she soonafter married Luther R. Marsh, there was a mistake somewhere. However, the rumor had its advantages. Regarding him as not in the matrimonialmarket, we were all much more free and easy in our manners with him thanwe would otherwise have been. A series of anti-slavery conventions wasbeing held in Madison County, and there I had the pleasure of hearinghim for the first time. As I had a passion for oratory, I was deeplyimpressed with his power. He was not so smooth and eloquent as Phillips, but he could make his audience both laugh and cry; the latter, Phillipshimself said he never could do. Mr. Stanton was then in his prime, afine-looking, affable young man, with remarkable conversational talent, and was ten years my senior, with the advantage that number of yearsnecessarily gives. 

Two carriage-loads of ladies and gentlemen drove off every morning, sometimes ten miles, to one of these conventions, returning late atnight. I shall never forget those charming drives over the hills inMadison County, the bright autumnal days, and the bewitching moonlightnights. The enthusiasm of the people in these great meetings, thethrilling oratory, and lucid arguments of the speakers, all conspired tomake these days memorable as among the most charming in my life. Itseemed to me that I never had so much happiness crowded into one shortmonth. I had become interested in the anti-slavery and temperancequestions, and was deeply impressed with the appeals and arguments. Ifelt a new inspiration in life and was enthused with new ideas ofindividual rights and the basic principles of government, for theanti-slavery platform was the best school the American people ever hadon which to learn republican principles and ethics. These conventionsand the discussions at my cousin's fireside I count among the greatblessings of my life. 

One morning, as we came out from breakfast, Mr. Stanton joined me on thepiazza, where I was walking up and down enjoying the balmy air and thebeauty of the foliage. "As we have no conventions, " said he, "on hand, what do you say to a ride on horseback this morning?" I readily acceptedthe suggestion, ordered the horses, put on my habit, and away we went. The roads were fine and we took a long ride. As we were returning homewe stopped often to admire the scenery and, perchance, each other. Whenwalking slowly through a beautiful grove, he laid his hand on the hornof the saddle and, to my surprise, made one of those charmingrevelations of human feeling which brave knights have always foundeloquent words to utter, and to which fair ladies have always listenedwith mingled emotions of pleasure and astonishment. 

One outcome of those glorious days of October, 1839, was a marriage, inJohnstown, the 10th day of May, 1840, and a voyage to the Old World. 

Six weeks of that charming autumn, ending in the Indian summer with itspeculiarly hazy atmosphere, I lingered in Peterboro. It seems inretrospect like a beautiful dream. A succession of guests was constantlycoming and going, and I still remember the daily drives over those grandold hills crowned with trees now gorgeous in rich colors, the morecharming because we knew the time was short before the cold winds ofNovember would change all. 

The early setting sun warned us that the shortening days must soon endour twilight drives, and the moonlight nights were too chilly to lingerlong in the rustic arbors or shady nooks outside. With the peculiarcharm of this season of the year there is always a touch of sadness innature, and it seemed doubly so to me, as my engagement was not one ofunmixed joy and satisfaction. Among all conservative families there wasa strong aversion to abolitionists and the whole anti-slavery movement. Alone with Cousin Gerrit in his library he warned me, in deep, solemntones, while strongly eulogizing my lover, that my father would neverconsent to my marriage with an abolitionist. He felt in duty bound, asmy engagement had occurred under his roof, to free himself from allresponsibility by giving me a long dissertation on love, friendship, marriage, and all the pitfalls for the unwary, who, without dueconsideration, formed matrimonial relations. The general principles laiddown in this interview did not strike my youthful mind so forcibly asthe suggestion that it was better to announce my engagement by letterthan to wait until I returned home, as thus I might draw the hottestfire while still in safe harbor, where Cousin Gerrit could help medefend the weak points in my position. So I lingered at Peterboro toprolong the dream of happiness and postpone the conflict I feared tomeet. 

But the Judge understood the advantage of our position as well as wedid, and wasted no ammunition on us. Being even more indignant at mycousin than at me, he quietly waited until I returned home, when Ipassed through the ordeal of another interview, with anotherdissertation on domestic relations from a financial standpoint. Thesewere two of the most bewildering interviews I ever had. They succeededin making me feel that the step I proposed to take was the mostmomentous and far-reaching in its consequences of any in this mortallife. Heretofore my apprehensions had all been of death and eternity;now life itself was filled with fears and anxiety as to thepossibilities of the future. Thus these two noble men, who would havedone anything for my happiness, actually overweighted my conscience andturned the sweetest dream of my life into a tragedy. How little strongmen, with their logic, sophistry, and hypothetical examples, appreciatethe violence they inflict on the tender sensibilities of a woman'sheart, in trying to subjugate her to their will! The love of protectingtoo often degenerates into downright tyranny. Fortunately all thesesombre pictures of a possible future were thrown into the background bythe tender missives every post brought me, in which the brilliantword-painting of one of the most eloquent pens of this generation madethe future for us both, as bright and beautiful as Spring with herverdure and blossoms of promise. 

However, many things were always transpiring at Peterboro to turn one'sthoughts and rouse new interest in humanity at large. One day, as a bevyof us girls were singing and chattering in the parlor, Cousin Gerritentered and, in mysterious tones, said: "I have a most important secretto tell you, which you must keep to yourselves religiously fortwenty-four hours. "

We readily pledged ourselves in the most solemn manner, individually andcollectively. 

"Now, " said he, "follow me to the third story. "

This we did, wondering what the secret could be. At last, opening adoor, he ushered us into a large room, in the center of which sat abeautiful quadroon girl, about eighteen years of age. Addressing her, hesaid:

"Harriet, I have brought all my young cousins to see you. I want you tomake good abolitionists of them by telling them the history of yourlife--what you have seen and suffered in slavery. "

Turning to us he said:

"Harriet has just escaped from her master, who is visiting in Syracuse, and is on her way to Canada. She will start this evening and you maynever have another opportunity of seeing a slave girl face to face, soask her all you care to know of the system of slavery. "

For two hours we listened to the sad story of her childhood and youth, separated from all her family and sold for her beauty in a New Orleansmarket when but fourteen years of age. The details of her story I neednot repeat. The fate of such girls is too well known to need rehearsal. We all wept together as she talked, and, when Cousin Gerrit returned tosummon us away, we needed no further education to make us earnestabolitionists. 

Dressed as a Quakeress, Harriet started at twilight with one of Mr. Smith's faithful clerks in a carriage for Oswego, there to cross thelake to Canada. The next day her master and the marshals from Syracusewere on her track in Peterboro, and traced her to Mr. Smith's premises. He was quite gracious in receiving them, and, while assuring them thatthere was no slave there, he said that they were at liberty to make athorough search of the house and grounds. He invited them to stay anddine and kept them talking as long as possible, as every hour helpedHarriet to get beyond their reach; for, although she had eighteen hoursthe start of them, yet we feared some accident might have delayed her. The master was evidently a gentleman, for, on Mr. Smith's assurance thatHarriet was not there, he made no search, feeling that they could not doso without appearing to doubt his word. He was evidently surprised tofind an abolitionist so courteous and affable, and it was interesting tohear them in conversation, at dinner, calmly discussing the problem ofslavery, while public sentiment was at white heat on the question. Theyshook hands warmly at parting and expressed an equal interest in thefinal adjustment of that national difficulty. 

In due time the clerk returned with the good news that Harriet was safewith friends in a good situation in Canada. Mr. Smith then published anopen letter to the master in the New York _Tribune_, saying "that hewould no doubt rejoice to know that his slave Harriet, in whose fate hefelt so deep an interest, was now a free woman, safe under the shadow ofthe British throne. I had the honor of entertaining her under my roof, sending her in my carriage to Lake Ontario, just eighteen hours beforeyour arrival: hence my willingness to have you search my premises. "

Like the varied combinations of the kaleidoscope, the scenes in oursocial life at Peterboro were continually changing from grave to gay. Some years later we had a most hilarious occasion at the marriage ofMary Cochrane, sister of General John Cochrane, to Chapman Biddle, ofPhiladelphia. The festivities, which were kept up for three days, involved most elaborate preparations for breakfasts, dinners, etc. , there being no Delmonico's in that remote part of the country. It wasdecided in family council that we had sufficient culinary talent underthe roof to prepare the entire _menu_ of substantials and delicacies, from soup and salmon to cakes and creams. So, gifted ladies andgentlemen were impressed into the service. The Fitzhughs all had anatural talent for cooking, and chief among them was Isabella, wife of anaval officer, --Lieutenant Swift of Geneva, --who had made a profoundstudy of all the authorities from Archestratus, a poet in Syracuse, themost famous cook among the Greeks, down to our own Miss Leslie. Accordingly she was elected manager of the occasion, and to each one wasassigned the specialty in which she claimed to excel. Those who had nospecialty were assistants to those who had. In this humbleoffice--"assistant at large"--I labored throughout. 

Cooking is a high art. A wise Egyptian said, long ago: "The degree oftaste and skill manifested by a nation in the preparation of food may beregarded as to a very considerable extent proportioned to its cultureand refinement. " In early times men, only, were deemed capable ofhandling fire, whether at the altar or the hearthstone. We read in theScriptures that Abraham prepared cakes of fine meal and a calf tenderand good, which, with butter and milk, he set before the three angels inthe plains of Mamre. We are told, too, of the chief butler and chiefbaker as officers in the household of King Pharaoh. I would like to callthe attention of my readers to the dignity of this profession, whichsome young women affect to despise. The fact that angels eat, shows thatwe may be called upon in the next sphere to cook even for cherubim andseraphim. How important, then, to cultivate one's gifts in thatdirection!

With such facts before us, we stirred and pounded, whipped and ground, coaxed the delicate meats from crabs and lobsters and the succulent peasfrom the pods, and grated corn and cocoanut with the same cheerfulnessand devotion that we played Mendelssohn's "Songs Without Words" on thepiano, the Spanish Fandango on our guitars, or danced the minuet, polka, lancers, or Virginia reel. 

During the day of the wedding, every stage coach was crowded with guestsfrom the North, South, East, and West, and, as the twilight deepened, carriages began to roll in with neighbors and friends living at shortdistances, until the house and grounds were full. A son of Bishop Coxe, who married the tall and stately sister of Roscoe Conkling, performedthe ceremony. The beautiful young bride was given away by her UncleGerrit. The congratulations, the feast, and all went off with fittingdecorum in the usual way. The best proof of the excellence of our viandswas that they were all speedily swept from mortal view, and everyhousewife wanted a recipe for something. 

As the grand dinner was to come off the next day, our thoughts nowturned in that direction. The responsibility rested heavily on the headsof the chief actors, and they reported troubled dreams and unduly earlyrising. Dear Belle Swift was up in season and her white soup stoodserenely in a tin pan, on an upper shelf, before the town clock struckseven. If it had not taken that position so early, it might have beenincorporated with higher forms of life than that into which iteventually fell. Another artist was also on the wing early, and inpursuit of a tin pan in which to hide her precious compound, sheunwittingly seized this one, and the rich white soup rolled down herraven locks like the oil on Aaron's beard, and enveloped her in a veilof filmy whiteness. I heard the splash and the exclamation of surpriseand entered the butler's pantry just in time to see the heiress of theSmith estate standing like a statue, tin pan in hand, soup in her curls, her eyebrows and eyelashes, --collar, cuffs, and morning dresssaturated, --and Belle, at a little distance, looking at her and the soupon the floor with surprise and disgust depicted on every feature. Thetableau was inexpressibly comical, and I could not help laughingoutright; whereupon Belle turned on me, and, with indignant tones, said, "If you had been up since four o'clock making that soup you would notstand there like a laughing monkey, without the least feeling of pity!"Poor Lizzie was very sorry, and would have shed tears, but they couldnot penetrate that film of soup. I tried to apologize, but could onlylaugh the more when I saw Belle crying and Lizzie standing as if hopingthat the soup might be scraped off her and gathered from the floor andmade to do duty on the occasion. 

After breakfast, ladies and gentlemen, alike in white aprons, crowdedinto the dining room and kitchen, each to perform the allotted task. George Biddle of Philadelphia and John B. Miller of Utica, in holidayspirits, were irrepressible--everywhere at the same moment, helping orhindering as the case might be. Dear Belle, having only partiallyrecovered from the white-soup catastrophe, called Mr. Biddle to hold theice-cream freezer while she poured in the luscious compound she had justprepared. He held it up without resting it on anything, while Belleslowly poured in the cream. As the freezer had no indentations round thetop or rim to brace the thumbs and fingers, when it grew suddenlyheavier his hands slipped and down went the whole thing, spattering poorBelle and spoiling a beautiful pair of gaiters in which, as she had verypretty feet, she took a laudable pride. In another corner sat WealtheaBackus, grating some cocoanut. While struggling in that operation, JohnMiller, feeling hilarious, was annoying her in divers ways; at lengthshe drew the grater across his nose, gently, as she intended, but alas!she took the skin off, and John's beauty, for the remainder of thefestivities, was marred with a black patch on that prominent feature. One can readily imagine the fun that must have transpired where so manyamateur cooks were at work round one table, with all manner of culinarytools and ingredients. 

As assistant-at-large I was summoned to the cellar, where Mrs. CorneliaBarclay of New York was evolving from a pan of flour and water thatmiracle in the pie department called puff paste. This, it seems, canonly be accomplished where the thermometer is below forty, and near arefrigerator where the compound can be kept cold until ready to bepopped into the oven. No jokes or nonsense here. With queenly dignitythe flour and water were gently compressed. Here one hand must not knowwhat the other doeth. Bits of butter must be so deftly introduced thateven the rolling pin may be unconscious of its work. As the artist gavethe last touch to an exquisite lemon pie, with a mingled expression ofpride and satisfaction on her classic features, she ordered me to bearit to the oven. In the transit I met Madam Belle. "Don't let that fall, "she said sneeringly. Fortunately I did not, and returned in triumph totransport another. I was then summoned to a consultation with thecommittee on toasts, consisting of James Cochrane, John Miller, andmyself. Mr. Miller had one for each guest already written, all of whichwe accepted and pronounced very good. 

Strange to say, a most excellent dinner emerged from all this uproar andconfusion. The table, with its silver, china, flowers, and rich viands, the guests in satins, velvets, jewels, soft laces, and bright cravats, together reflecting all the colors of the prism, looked as beautiful asthe rainbow after a thunderstorm. 

Twenty years ago I made my last sad visit to that spot so rich withpleasant memories of bygone days. A few relatives and family friendsgathered there to pay the last tokens of respect to our noble cousin. It was on one of the coldest days of gray December that we laid him inthe frozen earth, to be seen no more. He died from a stroke of apoplexyin New York city, at the home of his niece, Mrs. Ellen Cochrane Walter, whose mother was Mr. Smith's only sister. The journey from New York toPeterboro was cold and dreary, and climbing the hills from Canastota inan open sleigh, nine hundred feet above the valley, with the thermometerbelow zero, before sunrise, made all nature look as sombre as the saderrand on which we came. 

Outside the mansion everything in its wintry garb was cold and still, and all within was silent as the grave. The central figure, the lightand joy of that home, had vanished forever. He who had welcomed us onthat threshold for half a century would welcome us no more. We did whatwe could to dissipate the gloom that settled on us all. We did notintensify our grief by darkening the house and covering ourselves withblack crape, but wore our accustomed dresses of chastened colors andopened all the blinds that the glad sunshine might stream in. We hungthe apartment where the casket stood with wreaths of evergreens, andoverhead we wove his favorite mottoes in living letters, "Equal rightsfor all!" "Rescue Cuba now!" The religious services were short andsimple; the Unitarian clergyman from Syracuse made a few remarks, thechildren from the orphan asylum, in which he was deeply interested, sangan appropriate hymn, and around the grave stood representatives of theBiddles, the Dixwells, the Sedgwicks, the Barclays, and Stantons, andthree generations of his immediate family. With a few appropriate wordsfrom General John Cochrane we left our beloved kinsman alone in hislast resting place. Two months later, on his birthday, his wife, AnnCarroll Fitzhugh, passed away and was laid by his side. Theirs was aremarkably happy union of over half a century, and they were soonreunited in the life eternal. 

CHAPTER V. 

OUR WEDDING JOURNEY. 

My engagement was a season of doubt and conflict--doubt as to the wisdomof changing a girlhood of freedom and enjoyment for I knew not what, andconflict because the step I proposed was in opposition to the wishes ofall my family. Whereas, heretofore, friends were continually suggestingsuitable matches for me and painting the marriage relation in the mostdazzling colors, now that state was represented as beset with dangersand disappointments, and men, of all God's creatures as the mostdepraved and unreliable. Hard pressed, I broke my engagement, aftermonths of anxiety and bewilderment; suddenly I decided to renew it, asMr. Stanton was going to Europe as a delegate to the World'sAnti-slavery Convention, and we did not wish the ocean to roll betweenus. 

Thursday, May 10, 1840, I determined to take the fateful step, withoutthe slightest preparation for a wedding or a voyage; but Mr. Stanton, coming up the North River, was detained on "Marcy's Overslaugh, " a barin the river where boats were frequently stranded for hours. This delaycompelled us to be married on Friday, which is commonly supposed to be amost unlucky day. But as we lived together, without more than the usualmatrimonial friction, for nearly a half a century, had seven children, all but one of whom are still living, and have been well sheltered, clothed, and fed, enjoying sound minds in sound bodies, no one need beafraid of going through the marriage ceremony on Friday for fear of badluck. The Scotch clergyman who married us, being somewhat superstitious, begged us to postpone it until Saturday; but, as we were to sail earlyin the coming week, that was impossible. That point settled, the nextdifficulty was to persuade him to leave out the word "obey" in themarriage ceremony. As I obstinately refused to obey one with whom Isupposed I was entering into an equal relation, that point, too, wasconceded. A few friends were invited to be present and, in a simplewhite evening dress, I was married. But the good priest avenged himselffor the points he conceded, by keeping us on the rack with a long prayerand dissertation on the sacred institution for one mortal hour. The Rev. Hugh Maire was a little stout fellow, vehement in manner and speech, whodanced about the floor, as he laid down the law, in the most originaland comical manner. As Mr. Stanton had never seen him before, the hourto him was one of constant struggle to maintain his equilibrium. I hadsat under his ministrations for several years, and was accustomed to hisrhetoric, accent, and gestures, and thus was able to go through theordeal in a calmer state of mind. 

Sister Madge, who had stood by me bravely through all my doubts andanxieties, went with us to New York and saw us on board the vessel. Mysister Harriet and her husband, Daniel C. Eaton, a merchant in New Yorkcity, were also there. He and I had had for years a standing game of"tag" at all our partings, and he had vowed to send me "tagged" toEurope. I was equally determined that he should not. Accordingly, Ihad a desperate chase after him all over the vessel, but in vain. He hadthe last "tag" and escaped. As I was compelled, under the circumstances, to conduct the pursuit with some degree of decorum, and he had theadvantage of height, long limbs, and freedom from skirts, I really stoodno chance whatever. However, as the chase kept us all laughing, ithelped to soften the bitterness of parting. 

[Illustration: H. B. Stanton] [Illustration: MRS. STANTON AND DAUGHTER, 1857. ]

Fairly at sea, I closed another chapter of my life, and my thoughtsturned to what lay in the near future. James G. Birney, the anti-slaverynominee for the presidency of the United States, joined us in New York, and was a fellow-passenger on the Montreal for England. He and myhusband were delegates to the World's Anti-slavery Convention, and bothinterested themselves in my anti-slavery education. They gave me booksto read, and, as we paced the deck day by day, the question was thechief theme of our conversation. 

Mr. Birney was a polished gentleman of the old school, and wasexcessively proper and punctilious in manner and conversation. I soonperceived that he thought I needed considerable toning down beforereaching England. I was quick to see and understand that his criticismsof others in a general way and the drift of his discourses on mannersand conversation had a nearer application than he intended I shoulddiscover, though he hoped I would profit by them. I was always gratefulto anyone who took an interest in my improvement, so I laughingly toldhim, one day, that he need not make his criticisms any longer in thatroundabout way, but might take me squarely in hand and polish me up asspeedily as possible. Sitting in the saloon at night after a game ofchess, in which, perchance, I had been the victor, I felt complacentand would sometimes say:

"Well, what have I said or done to-day open to criticism?"

So, in the most gracious manner, he replied on one occasion:

"You went to the masthead in a chair, which I think very unladylike. Iheard you call your husband 'Henry' in the presence of strangers, whichis not permissible in polite society. You should always say 'Mr. Stanton. ' You have taken three moves back in this game. "

"Bless me!" I replied, "what a catalogue in one day! I fear my Mentorwill despair of my ultimate perfection. "

"I should have more hope, " he replied, "if you seemed to feel my rebukesmore deeply, but you evidently think them of too little consequence tobe much disturbed by them. "

As he found even more fault with my husband, we condoled with each otherand decided that our friend was rather hypercritical and that we were asnearly perfect as mortals need be for the wear and tear of ordinarylife. Being both endowed with a good degree of self-esteem, neither thepraise nor the blame of mankind was overpowering to either of us. As thevoyage lasted eighteen days--for we were on a sailing vessel--we hadtime to make some improvement, or, at least, to consider all friendlysuggestions. 

At this time Mr. Birney was very much in love with Miss Fitzhugh ofGeneseo, to whom he was afterward married. He suffered at times greatdepression of spirits, but I could always rouse him to a sunny mood byintroducing her name. That was a theme of which he never grew weary, and, while praising her, a halo of glory was to him visible around myhead and I was faultless for the time being. There was nothing in ourfellow-passengers to break the monotony of the voyage. They were allstolid, middle-class English people, returning from various parts of theworld to visit their native land. 

When out of their hearing, Mr. Birney used to ridicule them withoutmercy; so, one day, by way of making a point, I said with greatsolemnity, "Is it good breeding to make fun of the foibles of ourfellow-men, who have not had our advantages of culture and education?"He felt the rebuke and blushed, and never again returned to thatsubject. I am sorry to say I was glad to find him once in fault. 

Though some amusement, in whatever extraordinary way I could obtain it, was necessary to my existence, yet, as it was deemed important that Ishould thoroughly understand the status of the anti-slavery movement inmy own country, I spent most of my time reading and talking on thatquestion. Being the wife of a delegate to the World's Convention, we allfelt it important that I should be able to answer whatever questions Imight be asked in England on all phases of the slavery question. 

The captain, a jolly fellow, was always ready to second me in myexplorations into every nook and cranny of the vessel. He imagined thatmy reading was distasteful and enforced by the older gentlemen, so hewas continually planning some diversion, and often invited me to sitwith him and listen to his experiences of a sailor's life. 

But all things must end in this mortal life, and our voyage was nearits termination, when we were becalmed on the Southern coast of Englandand could not make more than one knot an hour. When within sight of thedistant shore, a pilot boat came along and offered to take anyone ashorein six hours. I was so delighted at the thought of reaching land that, after much persuasion, Mr. Stanton and Mr. Birney consented to go. Accordingly we were lowered into the boat in an armchair, with aluncheon consisting of a cold chicken, a loaf of bread, and a bottle ofwine, with just enough wind to carry our light craft toward ourdestination. But, instead of six hours, we were all day trying to reachthe land, and, as the twilight deepened and the last breeze died away, the pilot said: "We are now two miles from shore, but the only way youcan reach there to-night is by a rowboat. "

As we had no provisions left and nowhere to sleep, we were glad to availourselves of the rowboat. It was a bright moonlight night, the airbalmy, the waters smooth, and, with two stout oarsmen, we glided swiftlyalong. As Mr. Birney made the last descent and seated himself, doubtfulas to our reaching shore, turning to me he said: "The woman tempted meand I did leave the good ship. " However, we did reach the shore atmidnight and landed at Torquay, one of the loveliest spots in thatcountry, and our journey to Exeter the next day lay through the mostbeautiful scenery in England. 

As we had no luggage with us, our detention by customs officers wasbrief, and we were soon conducted to a comfortable little hotel, whichwe found in the morning was a bower of roses. I had never imaginedanything so beautiful as the drive up to Exeter on the top of a coach, with four stout horses, trotting at the rate of ten miles an hour. Itwas the first day of June, and the country was in all its glory. Thefoliage was of the softest green, the trees were covered with blossoms, and the shrubs with flowers. The roads were perfect; the large, fine-looking coachman, with his white gloves and reins, his rosy faceand lofty bearing and the postman in red, blowing his horn as we passedthrough every village, made the drive seem like a journey in fairyland. We had heard that England was like a garden of flowers, but we werewholly unprepared for such wealth of beauty. 

In Exeter we had our first view of one of the great cathedrals in theOld World, and we were all deeply impressed with its grandeur. It wasjust at the twilight hour, when the last rays of the setting sun, streaming through the stained glass windows, deepened the shadows andthrew a mysterious amber light over all. As the choir was practicing, the whole effect was heightened by the deep tones of the organreverberating through the arched roof, and the sound of human voices asif vainly trying to fill the vast space above. The novelty and solemnityof the surroundings roused all our religious emotions and thrilled everynerve in our being. As if moved by the same impulse to linger there awhile, we all sat down, silently waiting for something to break thespell that bound us. Can one wonder at the power of the Catholicreligion for centuries, with such accessories to stimulate theimagination to a blind worship of the unknown?

Sitting in the hotel that evening and wanting something to read, weasked the waiter for the daily papers. As there was no public table ordrawing room for guests, but each party had its own apartment, we neededa little change from the society of each other. Having been, as it were, shut from the outside world for eighteen days, we had some curiosity tosee whether our planet was still revolving from west to east. At themention of papers in the plural number, the attendant gave us a look ofsurprise, and said he would get "it. " He returned saying that thegentleman in No. 4 had "it, " but he would be through in fifteen minutes. Accordingly, at the end of that time, he brought the newspaper, and, after we had had it the same length of time, he came to take it toanother party. At our lodging house in London, a paper was left for halfan hour each morning, and then it was taken to the next house, thusserving several families of readers. 

The next day brought us to London. When I first entered our lodginghouse in Queen Street, I thought it the gloomiest abode I had ever seen. The arrival of a delegation of ladies, the next day, from Boston andPhiladelphia, changed the atmosphere of the establishment, and filled mewith delightful anticipations of some new and charming acquaintances, which I fully realized in meeting Emily Winslow, Abby Southwick, Elizabeth Neal, Mary Grew, Abby Kimber, Sarah Pugh, and Lucretia Mott. There had been a split in the American anti-slavery ranks, and delegatescame from both branches, and, as they were equally represented at ourlodgings, I became familiar with the whole controversy. The potentelement which caused the division was the woman question, and as theGarrisonian branch maintained the right of women to speak and vote inthe conventions, all my sympathies were with the Garrisonians, thoughMr. Stanton and Mr. Birney belonged to the other branch, calledpolitical abolitionists. To me there was no question so important as theemancipation of women from the dogmas of the past, political, religious, and social. It struck me as very remarkable that abolitionists, who feltso keenly the wrongs of the slave, should be so oblivious to the equalwrongs of their own mothers, wives, and sisters, when, according to thecommon law, both classes occupied a similar legal status. 

Our chief object in visiting England at this time was to attend theWorld's Anti-slavery Convention, to meet June 12, 1840, in Freemasons'Hall, London. Delegates from all the anti-slavery societies of civilizednations were invited, yet, when they arrived, those representingassociations of women were rejected. Though women were members of theNational Anti-slavery Society, accustomed to speak and vote in all itsconventions, and to take an equally active part with men in the wholeanti-slavery struggle, and were there as delegates from associations ofmen and women, as well as those distinctively of their own sex, yet allalike were rejected because they were women. Women, according to Englishprejudices at that time, were excluded by Scriptural texts from sharingequal dignity and authority with men in all reform associations; henceit was to English minds pre-eminently unfitting that women should beadmitted as equal members to a World's Convention. The question washotly debated through an entire day. My husband made a very eloquentspeech in favor of admitting the women delegates. 

When we consider that Lady Byron, Anna Jameson, Mary Howitt, Mrs. HugoReid, Elizabeth Fry, Amelia Opie, Ann Green Phillips, Lucretia Mott, andmany remarkable women, speakers and leaders in the Society of Friends, were all compelled to listen in silence to the masculine platitudes onwoman's sphere, one may form some idea of the indignation ofunprejudiced friends, and especially that of such women as Lydia MariaChild, Maria Chapman, Deborah Weston, Angelina and Sarah Grimké, andAbby Kelly, who were impatiently waiting and watching on this side, inpainful suspense, to hear how their delegates were received. Judgingfrom my own feelings, the women on both sides of the Atlantic must havebeen humiliated and chagrined, except as these feelings were outweighedby contempt for the shallow reasoning of their opponents and theircomical pose and gestures in some of the intensely earnest flights oftheir imagination. 

The clerical portion of the convention was most violent in itsopposition. The clergymen seemed to have God and his angels especiallyin their care and keeping, and were in agony lest the women should do orsay something to shock the heavenly hosts. Their all-sustaining conceitgave them abundant assurance that their movements must necessarily beall-pleasing to the celestials whose ears were open to the proceedingsof the World's Convention. Deborah, Huldah, Vashti, and Esther mighthave questioned the propriety of calling it a World's Convention, whenonly half of humanity was represented there; but what were theiropinions worth compared with those of the Rev. A. Harvey, the Rev. C. Stout, or the Rev. J. Burnet, who, Bible in hand, argued woman'ssubjection, divinely decreed when Eve was created. 

One of our champions in the convention, George Bradburn, a tallthick-set man with a voice like thunder, standing head and shouldersabove the clerical representatives, swept all their arguments aside bydeclaring with tremendous emphasis that, if they could prove to him thatthe Bible taught the entire subjection of one-half of the race to theother, he should consider that the best thing he could do for humanitywould be to bring together every Bible in the universe and make a grandbonfire of them. 

It was really pitiful to hear narrow-minded bigots, pretending to beteachers and leaders of men, so cruelly remanding their own mothers, with the rest of womankind, to absolute subjection to the ordinarymasculine type of humanity. I always regretted that the women themselveshad not taken part in the debate before the convention was fullyorganized and the question of delegates settled. It seemed to me then, and does now, that all delegates with credentials from recognizedsocieties should have had a voice in the organization of the convention, though subject to exclusion afterward. However, the women sat in a lowcurtained seat like a church choir, and modestly listened to the French, British, and American Solons for twelve of the longest days in June, asdid, also, our grand Garrison and Rogers in the gallery. They scorned aconvention that ignored the rights of the very women who had fought, side by side, with them in the anti-slavery conflict. "After battling somany long years, " said Garrison, "for the liberties of African slaves, Ican take no part in a convention that strikes down the most sacredrights of all women. " After coming three thousand miles to speak on thesubject nearest his heart, he nobly shared the enforced silence of therejected delegates. It was a great act of self-sacrifice that shouldnever be forgotten by women. 

Thomas Clarkson was chosen president of the convention and made a fewremarks in opening, but he soon retired, as his age and many infirmitiesmade all public occasions too burdensome, and Joseph Sturge, a Quaker, was made chairman. Sitting next to Mrs. Mott, I said:

"As there is a Quaker in the chair now, what could he do if the spiritshould move you to speak?"

"Ah, " she replied, evidently not believing such a contingency possible, "where the spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. "

She had not much faith in the sincerity of abolitionists who, whileeloquently defending the natural rights of slaves, denied freedom ofspeech to one-half the people of their own race. Such was theconsistency of an assemblage of philanthropists! They would have beenhorrified at the idea of burning the flesh of the distinguished womenpresent with red-hot irons, but the crucifixion of their pride andself-respect, the humiliation of the spirit, seemed to them a mosttrifling matter. The action of this convention was the topic ofdiscussion, in public and private, for a long time, and stung many womeninto new thought and action and gave rise to the movement for women'spolitical equality both in England and the United States. 

As the convention adjourned, the remark was heard on all sides, "It isabout time some demand was made for new liberties for women. " As Mrs. Mott and I walked home, arm in arm, commenting on the incidents of theday, we resolved to hold a convention as soon as we returned home, andform a society to advocate the rights of women. At the lodging house onQueen Street, where a large number of delegates had apartments, thediscussions were heated at every meal, and at times so bitter that, atlast, Mr. Birney packed his valise and sought more peaceful quarters. Having strongly opposed the admission of women as delegates to theconvention it was rather embarrassing to meet them, during the intervalsbetween the various sessions, at the table and in the drawing room. 

These were the first women I had ever met who believed in the equalityof the sexes and who did not believe in the popular orthodox religion. The acquaintance of Lucretia Mott, who was a broad, liberal thinker onpolitics, religion, and all questions of reform, opened to me a newworld of thought. As we walked about to see the sights of London, Iembraced every opportunity to talk with her. It was intensely gratifyingto hear all that, through years of doubt, I had dimly thought, so freelydiscussed by other women, some of them no older than myself--women, too, of rare intelligence, cultivation, and refinement. After six weeks'sojourn under the same roof with Lucretia Mott, whose conversation wasuniformly on a high plane, I felt that I knew her too well to sympathizewith the orthodox Friends, who denounced her as a dangerous womanbecause she doubted certain dogmas they fully believed. 

As Mr. Birney and my husband were invited to speak all over England, Scotland, and Ireland, and we were uniformly entertained by orthodoxFriends, I had abundant opportunity to know the general feeling amongthem toward Lucretia Mott. Even Elizabeth Fry seemed quite unwilling tobreathe the same atmosphere with her. During the six weeks that many ofus remained in London after the convention we were invited to asuccession of public and private breakfasts, dinners, and teas, and onthese occasions it was amusing to watch Mrs. Fry's sedulous efforts tokeep Mrs. Mott at a distance. If Mrs. Mott was on the lawn, Mrs. Frywould go into the house; if Mrs. Mott was in the house, Mrs. Fry wouldstay out on the lawn. One evening, when we were all crowded into twoparlors, and there was no escape, the word went round that Mrs. Fry feltmoved to pray with the American delegates, whereupon a profound silencereigned. After a few moments Mrs. Fry's voice was heard deploring theschism among the American Friends; that sol many had been led astray byfalse doctrines; urging the Spirit of All Good to show them the error oftheir way, and gather them once more into the fold of the great Shepherdof our faith. The prayer was directed so pointedly at the followers ofElias Hicks, and at Lucretia Mott in particular, that I whispered toLucretia, at the close, that she should now pray for Mrs. Fry, that hereyes might be opened to her bigotry and uncharitableness, and be led bythe Spirit into higher light. "Oh, no!" she replied, "a prayer of thischaracter, under the circumstances, is an unfair advantage to take of astranger, but I would not resent it in the house of her friends. "

In these gatherings we met the leading Quaker families and many otherphilanthropists of different denominations interested in theanti-slavery movement. On all these occasions our noble Garrison spokemost effectively, and thus our English friends had an opportunity ofenjoying his eloquence, the lack of which had been so grave a loss inthe convention. 

We devoted a month sedulously to sightseeing in London, and, in the lineof the traveler's duty, we explored St. Paul's Cathedral, the BritishMuseum, the Tower, various prisons, hospitals, galleries of art, WindsorCastle, and St. James's Palace, the Zoological Gardens, the schools andcolleges, the chief theaters and churches, Westminster Abbey, the Housesof Parliament, and the Courts. We heard the most famous preachers, actors, and statesmen. In fact, we went to the top and bottom ofeverything, from the dome of St. Paul to the tunnel under the Thames, just then in the process of excavation. We drove through the parks, sailed up and down the Thames, and then visited every shire but four inEngland, in all of which we had large meetings, Mr. Birney and Mr. Stanton being the chief speakers. As we were generally invited to staywith Friends, it gave us a good opportunity to see the leading families, such as the Ashursts, the Alexanders, the Priestmans, the Braithwaites, and Buxtons, the Gurneys, the Peases, the Wighams of Edinburgh, and theWebbs of Dublin. We spent a few days with John Joseph Gurney at hisbeautiful home in Norwich. He had just returned from America, havingmade a tour through the South. When asked how he liked America, he said, "I like everything but your pie crust and your slavery. "

Before leaving London, the whole American delegation, about forty innumber, were invited to dine with Samuel Gurney. He and his brother, John Joseph Gurney, were, at that time, the leading bankers in London. Someone facetiously remarked that the Jews were the leading bankers inLondon until the Quakers crowded them out. 

One of the most striking women I met in England at this time was MissElizabeth Pease. I never saw a more strongly marked face. Meeting her, forty years after, on the platform of a great meeting in the Town Hallat Glasgow, I knew her at once. She is now Mrs. Nichol of Edinburgh, and, though on the shady side of eighty, is still active in all thereforms of the day. 

It surprised us very much at first, when driving into the grounds ofsome of these beautiful Quaker homes, to have the great bell rung at thelodge, and to see the number of liveried servants on the porch and inthe halls, and then to meet the host in plain garb, and to be welcomedin plain language, "How does thee do, Henry?" "How does thee doElizabeth?" This sounded peculiarly sweet to me--a stranger in a strangeland. The wealthy English Quakers we visited at that time, taking themall in all, were the most charming people I had ever seen. They wererefined and intelligent on all subjects, and though rather conservativeon some points, were not aggressive in pressing their opinions onothers. Their hospitality was charming and generous, their homes thebeau ideal of comfort and order, the cuisine faultless, while peacereigned over all. The quiet, gentle manner and the soft tones inspeaking, and the mysterious quiet in these well-ordered homes were likethe atmosphere one finds in a modern convent, where the ordinary dutiesof the day seem to be accomplished by some magical influence. 

Before leaving London we spent a delightful day in June at the home ofSamuel Gurney, surrounded by a fine park with six hundred deer roamingabout--always a beautiful feature in the English landscape. As theDuchess of Sutherland and Lord Morpeth had expressed a wish to Mrs. Fryto meet some of the leading American abolitionists, it was arranged thatthey should call at her brother's residence on this occasion. Soon afterwe arrived, the Duchess, with her brother and Mrs. Fry, in her statecarriage with six horses and outriders, drove up to the door. Mr. Gurneywas evidently embarrassed at the prospect of a lord and a duchess underhis roof. Leaning on the arm of Mrs. Fry, the duchess was formallyintroduced to us individually. Mrs. Mott conversed with thedistinguished guests with the same fluency and composure as with her owncountrywomen. However anxious the English people were as to what theyshould say and do, the Americans were all quite at their ease. 

As Lord Morpeth had some interesting letters from the island of Jamaicato read to us, we formed a circle on the lawn to listen. England hadjust paid one hundred millions of dollars to emancipate the slaves, andwe were all interested in hearing the result of the experiment. Thedistinguished guest in turn had many questions to ask in regard toAmerican slavery. We found none of that prejudice against color inEngland which is so inveterate among the American people; at my firstdinner in England I found myself beside a gentleman from Jamaica, asblack as the ace of spades. After the departure of the duchess, dinnerwas announced. It was a sumptuous meal, most tastefully served. Therewere half a dozen wineglasses at every plate, but abolitionists, inthose days, were all converts to temperance, and, as the bottles wentaround there was a general headshaking, and the right hand extendedover the glasses. Our English friends were amazed that none of us drankwine. Mr. Gurney said he had never before seen such a sight as fortyladies and gentlemen sitting down to dinner and none of them tastingwine. In talking with him on that point, he said:

"I suppose your nursing mothers drink beer?"

I laughed, and said, "Oh, no! We should be afraid of befogging thebrains of our children. "

"No danger of that, " said he; "we are all bright enough, and yet a caskof beer is rolled into the cellar for the mother with each newbornchild. "

Colonel Miller from Vermont, one of our American delegation, was in theGreek war with Lord Byron. As Lady Byron had expressed a wish to seehim, that her daughter might know something of her father's last days, an interview was arranged, and the colonel kindly invited me toaccompany him. His account of their acquaintance and the many nobletraits of character Lord Byron manifested, his generous impulses andacts of self-sacrifice, seemed particularly gratifying to the daughter. It was a sad interview, arranged chiefly for the daughter'ssatisfaction, though Lady Byron listened with a painful interest. As thecolonel was a warm admirer of the great poet, he no doubt representedhim in the best possible light, and his narration of his last days wasdeeply interesting. Lady Byron had a quiet, reserved manner, a sad face, and a low, plaintive voice, like one who had known deep sorrow. I hadseen her frequently in the convention and at social teas, and had beenpersonally presented to her before this occasion. Altogether I thoughther a sweet, attractive-looking woman. 

We had a pleasant interview with Lord Brougham also. The PhiladelphiaAnti-slavery Society sent him an elaborately carved inkstand, made fromthe wood of Pennsylvania Hall, which was destroyed by a pro-slavery mob. Mr. Birney made a most graceful speech in presenting the memento, andLord Brougham was equally happy in receiving it. 

One of the most notable characters we met at this time was DanielO'Connell. He made his first appearance in the London convention a fewdays after the women were rejected. He paid a beautiful tribute to womanand said that, if he had been present when the question was underdiscussion, he should have spoken and voted for their admission. He wasa tall, well-developed, magnificent-looking man, and probably one of themost effective speakers Ireland ever produced. I saw him at a greatIndia meeting in Exeter Hall, where some of the best orators fromFrance, America, and England were present. There were six natives fromIndia on the platform who, not understanding anything that was said, naturally remained listless throughout the proceedings. But the momentO'Connell began to speak they were all attention, bending forward andclosely watching every movement. One could almost tell what he said fromthe play of his expressive features, his wonderful gestures, and thepose of his whole body. When he finished, the natives joined in thegeneral applause. He had all Wendell Phillips' power of sarcasm anddenunciation, and added to that the most tender pathos. He could makehis audience laugh or cry at pleasure. It was a rare sight to see himdressed in "Repeal cloth" in one of his Repeal meetings. We were inDublin in the midst of that excitement, when the hopes of new libertiesfor that oppressed people all centered on O'Connell. The enthusiasm ofthe people for the Repeal of the Union was then at white-heat. Diningone day with the "Great Liberator, " as he was called, I asked him if hehoped to carry that measure. 

"No, " he said, "but it is always good policy to claim the uttermost andthen you will be sure to get something. "

Could he have looked forward fifty years and have seen the presentcondition of his unhappy country, he would have known that English greedand selfishness could defeat any policy, however wise and far-seeing. The successive steps by which Irish commerce was ruined and religiousfeuds between her people continually fanned into life, and the nationsubjugated, form the darkest page in the history of England. But thepeople are awakening at last to their duty, and, for the first time, organizing English public sentiment in favor of "Home Rule. " I attendedseveral large, enthusiastic meetings when last in England, in which themost radical utterances of Irish patriots were received with prolongedcheers. I trust the day is not far off when the beautiful Emerald Islewill unfurl her banner before the nations of the earth, enthroned as theQueen Republic of those northern seas!

We visited Wordsworth's home at Grasmere, among the beautiful lakes, buthe was not there. However, we saw his surroundings--the landscape thatinspired some of his poetic dreams, and the dense rows of hollyhocks ofevery shade and color, leading from his porch to the gate. The gardenertold us this was his favorite flower. Though it had no special beauty initself, taken alone, yet the wonderful combination of royal colors wasindeed striking and beautiful. We saw Harriet Martineau at her countryhome as well as at her house in town. As we were obliged to conversewith her through an ear trumpet, we left her to do most of the talking. She gave us many amusing experiences of her travels in America, and hercomments on the London Convention were rich and racy. She was not anattractive woman in either manner or appearance, though considered greatand good by all who knew her. 

We spent a few days with Thomas Clarkson, in Ipswich. He lived in a veryold house with long rambling corridors, surrounded by a moat, which wecrossed' by means of a drawbridge. He had just written an articleagainst the colonization scheme, which his wife read aloud to us. He wasso absorbed in the subject that he forgot the article was written byhimself, and kept up a running applause with "hear!" "hear!" the Englishmode of expressing approbation. He told us of the severe struggles heand Wilberforce had gone through in rousing the public sentiment ofEngland to the demand for emancipation in Jamaica. But their trials weremild, compared with what Garrison and his coadjutors had suffered inAmerica. 

Having read of all these people, it was difficult to realize, as Ivisited them in their own homes from day to day, that they were the samepersons I had so long worshiped from afar!

CHAPTER VI. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

After taking a view of the wonders and surroundings of London we spent amonth in Paris. Fifty years ago there was a greater difference in thegeneral appearance of things between France and England than now. Thatcountries only a few hours' journey apart should differ so widely was tous a great surprise. How changed the sights and sounds! Here was the olddiligence, lumbering along with its various compartments and itsindefinite number of horses, harnessed with rope and leather, sometimestwo, sometimes three abreast, and sometimes one in advance, with anoutrider belaboring the poor beasts without cessation, and the driveryelling and cracking his whip. The uproar, confusion, and squabbles atevery stopping place are overwhelming; the upper classes, men and womenalike, rushing into each other's arms, embrace and kiss, while driversand hostlers on the slightest provocation hurl at each other all thedenunciatory adjectives in the language, and with such vehemence thatyou expect every moment to see a deadly conflict. But to-day, as fiftyyears ago, they never arrive at that point. Theirs was and is purely anencounter of words, which they keep up, as they drive off in oppositedirections, just as far as they can hear and see each other, withthreats of vengeance to come. Such an encounter between two Englishmenwould mean the death of one or the other. 

All this was in marked contrast with John Bull and his Island. There thepeople were as silent as if they had been born deaf and dumb. TheEnglish stagecoach was compact, clean, and polished from top to bottom, the horses and harness glossy and in order, the well-dressed, dignifiedcoachman, who seldom spoke a loud word or used his whip, kept his seatat the various stages, while hostlers watered or changed the steeds; thepostman blew his bugle blast to have the mail in readiness, and thereserved passengers made no remarks on what was passing; for, in thosedays, Englishmen were afraid to speak to each other for fear ofrecognizing one not of their class, while to strangers and foreignersthey would not speak except in case of dire necessity. The Frenchman wasready enough to talk, but, unfortunately, we were separated by differentlanguages. Thus the Englishman would not talk, the Frenchman could not, and the intelligent, loquacious American driver, who discourses onpolitics, religion, national institutions, and social gossip was unknownon that side of the Atlantic. What the curious American traveler couldfind out himself from observation and pertinacious seeking he waswelcome to, but the Briton would waste no breath to enlighten Yankees asto the points of interest or customs of his country. 

Our party consisted of Miss Pugh, Abby Kimber, Mr. Stanton, and myself. I had many amusing experiences in making my wants known when alone, having forgotten most of my French. For instance, traveling night andday in the diligence to Paris, as the stops were short, one wassometimes in need of something to eat. One night as my companions wereall asleep, I went out to get a piece of cake or a cracker, or whateverof that sort I could obtain, but, owing to my clumsy use of thelanguage, I was misunderstood. Just as the diligence was about to start, and the shout for us to get aboard was heard, the waiter came runningwith a piping hot plate of sweetbreads nicely broiled. I had waited andwondered why it took so long to get a simple piece of cake or biscuit, and lo! a piece of hot meat was offered me. I could not take thefrizzling thing in my hand nor eat it without bread, knife, or fork, soI hurried off to the coach, the man pursuing me to the very door. I wasvexed and disappointed, while the rest of the party were convulsed withlaughter at the parting salute and my attempt to make my way alone. Itwas some time before I heard the last of the "sweetbreads. "

When we reached Paris we secured a courier who could speak English, toshow us the sights of that wonderful city. Every morning early he was atthe door, rain or shine, to carry out our plans, which, with the aid ofour guidebook, we had made the evening before. In this way, goingsteadily, day after day, we visited all points of interest for milesround and sailed up and down the Seine. The Palace of the Tuileries, with its many associations with a long line of more or less unhappykings and queens, was then in its glory, and its extensive and beautifulgrounds were always gay with crowds of happy people. These gardens werea great resort for nurses and children and were furnished with allmanner of novel appliances for their amusement, including beautifullittle carriages drawn by four goats with girls or boys driving, boatssailing in the air, seemingly propelled by oars, and hobby horsesflying round on whirligigs with boys vainly trying to catch each other. No people have ever taken the trouble to invent so many amusements forchildren as have the French. The people enjoyed being always in the openair, night and day. The parks are crowded with amusement seekers, somereading and playing games, some sewing, knitting, playing on musicalinstruments, dancing, sitting around tables in bevies eating, drinking, and gayly chatting. And yet, when they drive in carriages or go to theirhomes at night, they will shut themselves in as tight as oysters intheir shells. They have a theory that night air is very injurious, --inthe house, --although they will sit outside until midnight. I found thissame superstition prevalent in France fifty years later. 

We visited the Hôtel des Invalides just as they were preparing thesarcophagus for the reception of the remains of Napoleon. We witnessedthe wild excitement of that enthusiastic people, and listened with deepinterest to the old soldiers' praises of their great general. The ladiesof our party chatted freely with them. They all had interestinganecdotes to relate of their chief. They said he seldom slept over fourhours, was an abstemious eater, and rarely changed a servant, as hehated a strange face about him. He was very fond of a game of chess, andsnuffed continuously; talked but little, was a light sleeper, --thestirring of a mouse would awaken him, --and always on the watch-tower. They said that, in his great campaigns, he seemed to be omnipresent. Asentinel asleep at his post would sometimes waken to find Napoleon onduty in his place. 

The ship that brought back Napoleon's remains was the _Belle Poule_(the beautiful hen!), which landed at Cherbourg, November 30, 1840. Thebody was conveyed to the Church of the Invalides, which adjoins thetomb. The Prince de Joinville brought the body from Saint Helena, andLouis Philippe received it. 

At that time each soldier had a little patch of land to decorate as hepleased, in which many scenes from their great battles were illustrated. One represented Napoleon crossing the Alps. There were the cannon, thesoldiers, Napoleon on horseback, all toiling up the steep ascent, perfect in miniature. In another was Napoleon, flag in hand, leading thecharge across the bridge of Lodi. In still another was Napoleon inEgypt, before the Pyramids, seated, impassive, on his horse, gazing atthe Sphinx, as if about to utter his immortal words to his soldiers:"Here, forty centuries look down upon us. " These object lessons of thepast are all gone now and the land used for more prosaic purposes. 

I little thought, as I witnessed that great event in France in 1840, that fifty-seven years later I should witness a similar pageant in theAmerican Republic, when our nation paid its last tributes to GeneralGrant. There are many points of similarity in these great events. As menthey were alike aggressive and self-reliant. In Napoleon's will heexpressed the wish that his last resting place might be in the land andamong the people he loved so well. His desire is fulfilled. He rests inthe chief city of the French republic, whose shores are washed by thewaters of the Seine. General Grant expressed the wish that he might beinterred in our metropolis and added: "Wherever I am buried, I desirethat there shall be room for my wife by my side. " His wishes, too, arefulfilled. He rests in the chief city of the American Republic, whoseshores are washed by the waters of the Hudson, and in his magnificentmausoleum there is room for his wife by his side. 

Several members of the Society of Friends from Boston and Philadelphia, who had attended the World's Anti-slavery Convention in London, joinedour party for a trip on the Continent. Though opposed to war, they alltook a deep interest in the national excitement and in the pageants thatheralded the expected arrival of the hero from Saint Helena. As they allwore military coats of the time of George Fox, the soldiers, supposingthey belonged to the army of some country, gave them the military salutewherever we went, much to their annoyance and our amusement. 

In going the rounds, Miss Pugh amused us by reading aloud thedescription of what we were admiring and the historical events connectedwith that particular building or locality. We urged her to spend thetime taking in all she could see and to read up afterward; but no, ahistory of France and Galignani's guide she carried everywhere, and, while the rest of us looked until we were fully satisfied, she took abird's-eye view and read the description. Dear little woman! She was afine scholar, a good historian, was well informed on all subjects andcountries, proved an invaluable traveling companion, and could tell moreof what we saw than all the rest of us together. 

On several occasions we chanced to meet Louis Philippe dashing by in anopen barouche. We felt great satisfaction in remembering that at onetime he was an exile in our country, where he earned his living byteaching school. What an honor for Yankee children to have been taught, by a French king, the rudiments of his language. 

Having been accustomed to the Puritan Sunday of restraint and solemnity, I found that day in Paris gay and charming. The first time I enteredinto some of the festivities, I really expected to be struck bylightning. The libraries, art galleries, concert halls, and theaterswere all open to the people. Bands of music were playing in the parks, where whole families, with their luncheons, spent the day--husbands, wives, and children, on an excursion together. The boats on the Seineand all public conveyances were crowded. Those who had but this one dayfor pleasure seemed determined to make the most of it. A wonderfulcontrast with that gloomy day in London, where all places of amusementwere closed and nothing open to the people but the churches and drinkingsaloons. The streets and houses in which Voltaire, La Fayette, Mme. DeStaël, Mme. Roland, Charlotte Corday, and other famous men and womenlived and died, were pointed out to us. We little thought, then, of allthe terrible scenes to be enacted in Paris, nor that France would emergefrom the dangers that beset her on every side into a sister republic. Ithas been a wonderful achievement, with kings and Popes all plottingagainst her experiment, that she has succeeded in putting kingcraftunder her feet and proclaimed liberty, equality, fraternity for herpeople. 

After a few weeks in France, we returned to London, traveling throughEngland, Ireland, and Scotland for several months. We visited the scenesthat Shakespeare, Burns, and Dickens had made classic. We spent a fewdays at Huntingdon, the home of Oliver Cromwell, and visited the estatewhere he passed his early married life. While there, one of his greatadmirers read aloud to us a splendid article in one of the reviews, written by Carlyle, giving "The Protector, " as his friend said, his trueplace in history. It was long the fashion of England's historians torepresent Cromwell as a fanatic and hypocrite, but his character wasvindicated by later writers. "Never, " says Macaulay, "was a ruler soconspicuously born for sovereignty. The cup which has intoxicated almostall others sobered him. "

We saw the picturesque ruins of Kenilworth Castle, the birthplace ofShakespeare, the homes of Byron and Mary Chaworth, wandered throughNewstead Abbey, saw the monument to the faithful dog, and the largedining room where Byron and his boon companions used to shoot at a mark. It was a desolate region. We stopped a day or two at Ayr and drove outto the birthplace of Burns. The old house that had sheltered him wasstill there, but its walls now echoed to other voices, and the fieldswhere he had toiled were plowed by other hands. We saw the stream andbanks where he and Mary sat together, the old stone church where thewitches held their midnight revels, the two dogs, and the bridge of Ayr. With Burns, as with Sappho, it was love that awoke his heart to song. Abonny lass who worked with him in the harvest field inspired his firstattempts at rhyme. Life, with Burns, was one long, hard struggle. Withhis natural love for the beautiful, the terrible depression of spiritshe suffered from his dreary surroundings was inevitable. The interestgreat men took in him, when they awoke to his genius, came too late forhis safety and encouragement. In a glass of whisky he found, at last, the rest and cheer he never knew when sober. Poverty and ignorance arethe parents of intemperance, and that vice will never be suppresseduntil the burdens of life are equally shared by all. 

We saw Melrose by moonlight, spent several hours at Abbotsford, andlingered in the little sanctum sanctorum where Scott wrote his immortalworks. It was so small that he could reach the bookshelves on everyside. We went through the prisons, castles, and narrow streets ofEdinburgh, where the houses are seven and eight stories high, each storyprojecting a few feet until, at the uppermost, opposite neighbors couldeasily shake hands and chat together. All the intervals from activesight-seeing we spent in reading the lives of historical personages inpoetry and prose, until our sympathies flowed out to the real and idealcharacters. Lady Jane Grey, Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots, EllenDouglas, Jeanie and Effie Deans, Highland Mary, Rebecca the Jewess, DiVernon, and Rob Roy all alike seemed real men and women, whose shades ordescendants we hoped to meet on their native heath. 

Here among the Scotch lakes and mountains Mr. Stanton and I weretraveling alone for the first time since our marriage, and as we bothenjoyed walking, we made many excursions on foot to points that couldnot be reached in any other way. We spent some time among the GrampianHills, so familiar to every schoolboy, walking, and riding about ondonkeys. We sailed up and down Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond. My husbandwas writing letters for some New York newspapers on the entire trip, andaimed to get exact knowledge of all we saw; thus I had the advantage ofthe information he gathered. On these long tramps I wore a short dress, reaching just below the knee, of dark-blue cloth, a military cap of thesame material that shaded my eyes, and a pair of long boots, made on themasculine pattern then generally worn--the most easy style for walking, as the pressure is equal on the whole foot and the ankle has free play. Thus equipped, and early trained by my good brother-in-law to longwalks, I found no difficulty in keeping pace with my husband. 

Being self-reliant and venturesome in our explorations, we occasionallyfound ourselves involved in grave difficulties by refusing to take aguide. For instance, we decided to go to the top of Ben Nevis alone. Itlooked to us a straightforward piece of business to walk up a mountainside on a bee line, and so, in the face of repeated warnings by ourhost, we started. We knew nothing of zigzag paths to avoid the rocks, the springs, and swamps; in fact we supposed all mountains smooth anddry, like our native hills that we were accustomed to climb. Thelandlord shook his head and smiled when we told him we should return atnoon to dinner, and we smiled, too, thinking he placed a low estimate onour capacity for walking. But we had not gone far when we discovered thedifficulties ahead. Some places were so steep that I had to hold on tomy companion's coat tails, while he held on to rocks and twigs, orbraced himself with a heavy cane. By the time we were halfway up we werein a dripping perspiration, our feet were soaking wet, and we werereally too tired to proceed. But, after starting with such supremeconfidence in ourselves, we were ashamed to confess our fatigue to eachother, and much more to return and verify all the prognostications ofthe host and his guides. So we determined to push on and do what we hadproposed. With the prospect of a magnificent view and an hour'sdelicious rest on the top, we started with renewed courage. A steadyclimb of six hours brought us to the goal of promise; our ascent wasaccomplished. But alas! it was impossible to stop there--the cold windchilled us to the bone in a minute. So we took one glance at the worldbelow and hurried down the south side to get the mountain between us andthe cold northeaster. 

When your teeth are chattering with the cold, and the wind threateningto make havoc with your raiment, you are not in a favorable condition toappreciate grand scenery. Like the king of France with twice tenthousand men, we marched up the hill and then, marched down again. Wefound descending still more difficult, as we were in constant fear ofslipping, losing our hold, and rolling to the bottom. We were tired, hungry, and disappointed, and the fear of not reaching the valley beforenightfall pressed heavily upon us. Neither confessed to the other thefatigue and apprehension each felt, but, with fresh endeavor and wordsof encouragement, we cautiously went on. We accidentally struck a trailthat led us winding down comfortably some distance, but we lost it, andwent clambering down as well as we could in our usual way. To add to ourmisery, a dense Scotch mist soon enveloped us, so that we could see buta short distance ahead, and not knowing the point from which we started, we feared we might be going far out of our way. The coming twilight, too, made the prospect still darker. Fortunately our host, having lessfaith in us than we had in ourselves, sent a guide to reconnoiter, and, just at the moment when we began to realize our danger of spending thenight on the mountain, and to admit it to each other, the welcome guidehailed us in his broad accent. His shepherd dog led the way into thebeaten path. As I could hardly stand I took the guide's arm, and when wereached the bottom two donkeys were in readiness to take us to thehotel. 

We did not recover from the fatigue of that expedition in several days, and we made no more experiments of exploring strange places withoutguides. We learned, too, that mountains are not so hospitable as theyseem nor so gently undulating as they appear in the distance, and thatguides serve other purposes besides extorting money from travelers. If, under their guidance, we had gone up and down easily, we should alwayshave thought we might as well have gone alone. So our experience gave usa good lesson in humility. We had been twelve hours on foot with nothingto eat, when at last we reached the hotel. We were in no mood forboasting of the success of our excursion, and our answers were short toinquiries as to how we had passed the day. 

Being tired of traveling and contending about woman's sphere with theRev. John Scoble, an Englishman, who escorted Mr. Birney and Mr. Stantonon their tour through the country, I decided to spend a month in Dublin;while the gentlemen held meetings in Cork, Belfast, Waterford, Limerick, and other chief towns, finishing the series with a large, enthusiasticgathering in Dublin, at which O'Connell made one of his most witheringspeeches on American slavery; the inconsistency of such an "institution"with the principles of a republican government giving full play to hispowers of sarcasm. On one occasion, when introduced to a slaveholder, heput his hands behind his back, refusing to recognize a man who boughtand sold his fellow-beings. The Rev. John Scoble was one of the mostconceited men I ever met. His narrow ideas in regard to woman, and thesuperiority of the royal and noble classes in his own country, were tome so exasperating that I grew more and more bellicose every day wetraveled in company. He was terribly seasick crossing the Channel, to myintense satisfaction. As he always boasted of his distinguishedcountrymen, I suggested, in the midst of one of his most agonizingspasms, that he ought to find consolation in the fact that Lord Nelsonwas always seasick on the slightest provocation. 

The poverty in Ireland was a continual trial to our sensibilities;beggars haunted our footsteps everywhere, in the street and on thehighways, crouching on the steps of the front door and on thecurbstones, and surrounding our carriage wherever and whenever westopped to shop or make a visit. The bony hands and sunken eyes andsincere gratitude expressed for every penny proved their suffering real. As my means were limited and I could not pass one by, I got a poundchanged into pennies, and put them in a green bag, which I took in thecarriage wherever I went. It was but a drop in the ocean, but it was allI could do to relieve that unfathomed misery. The poverty I saweverywhere in the Old World, and especially in Ireland, was a puzzlingproblem to my mind, but I rejected the idea that it was a necessary linkin human experience--that it always had been and always must be. 

As we drove, day by day, in that magnificent Phoenix Park, of fifteenhundred acres, one of the largest parks, I believe, in the world, Iwould often put the question to myself, what right have the few to makea pleasure ground of these acres, while the many have nowhere to laytheir heads, crouching under stiles and bridges, clothed in rags, andfeeding on sea-weed with no hope, in the slowly passing years, of anychange for the better? The despair stamped on every brow told the sadstory of their wrongs. Those accustomed to such everyday experiencesbrush beggars aside as they would so many flies, but those to whom suchsights are new cannot so easily quiet their own consciences. Everyone inthe full enjoyment of all the blessings of life, in his normalcondition, feels some individual responsibility for the poverty ofothers. When the sympathies are not blunted by any false philosophy, onefeels reproached by one's own abundance. I once heard a young girl, about to take her summer outing, when asked by her grandmother if shehad all the dresses she needed, reply, "Oh, yes! I was oppressed with aconstant sense of guilt, when packing, to see how much I had, while somany girls have nothing decent to wear. "

More than half a century has rolled by since I stood on Irish soil, andshed tears of pity for the wretchedness I saw, and no change for thebetter has as yet come to that unhappy people--yet this was the land ofBurke, Grattan, Shiel, and Emmett; the land into which Christianity wasintroduced in the fifth century, St. Patrick being the chief apostle ofthe new faith. In the sixth century Ireland sent forth missionaries fromher monasteries to convert Great Britain and the nations of NorthernEurope. From the eighth to the twelfth century Irish scholars held anenviable reputation. In fact, Ireland was the center of learning at onetime. The arts, too, were cultivated by her people; and the roundtowers, still pointed out to travelers, are believed to be the remainsof the architecture of the tenth century. The ruin of Ireland must betraced to other causes than the character of the people or the Catholicreligion. Historians give us facts showing English oppressionssufficient to destroy any nation. 

The short, dark days of November intensified, in my eyes, the gloomyprospects of that people, and made the change to the _Sirius_ of theCunard Line, the first regular Atlantic steamship to cross the ocean, most enjoyable. Once on the boundless ocean, one sees no beggars, nosigns of human misery, no crumbling ruins of vast cathedral walls, norecords of the downfall of mighty nations, no trace, even, of the mortalagony of the innumerable host buried beneath her bosom. Byron trulysays:

 "Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-- Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. "

When we embarked on the _Sirius_, we had grave doubts as to our safetyand the probability of our reaching the other side, as we did not feelthat ocean steamers had yet been fairly tried. But, after a passage ofeighteen days, eleven hours, and fifteen minutes, we reached Boston, having spent six hours at Halifax. We little thought that the steamer_Sirius_ of fifty years ago would ever develop into the magnificentfloating palaces of to-day--three times as large and three times asswift. In spite of the steamer, however, we had a cold, rough, drearyvoyage, and I have no pleasant memories connected with it. Ourfellow-passengers were all in their staterooms most of the time. Ourgood friend Mr. Birney had sailed two weeks before us, and as Mr. Stanton was confined to his berth, I was thrown on my own resources. Ifound my chief amusement in reading novels and playing chess with aBritish officer on his way to Canada. When it was possible I walked ondeck with the captain, or sat in some sheltered corner, watching thewaves. We arrived in New York, by rail, the day before Christmas. Everything looked bright and gay in our streets. It seemed to me thatthe sky was clearer, the air more refreshing, and the sunlight morebrilliant than in any other land!

CHAPTER VII. 

MOTHERHOOD. 

We found my sister Harriet in a new home in Clinton Place (EighthStreet), New York city, then considered so far up town that Mr. Eaton'sfriends were continually asking him why he went so far away from thesocial center, though in a few months they followed him. Here we passeda week. I especially enjoyed seeing my little niece and nephew, the onlygrandchildren in the family. The girl was the most beautiful child Iever saw, and the boy the most intelligent and amusing. He was very fondof hearing me recite the poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes entitled "TheHeight of the Ridiculous, " which I did many times, but he always wantedto see the lines that almost killed the man with laughing. He wentaround to a number of the bookstores one day and inquired for them. Itold him afterward they were never published; that when Mr. Holmes sawthe effect on his servant he suppressed them, lest they should producethe same effect on the typesetters, editors, and the readers of theBoston newspapers. My explanation never satisfied him. I told him hemight write to Mr. Holmes, and ask the privilege of reading the originalmanuscript, if it still was or ever had been in existence. As one of mygrand-nephews was troubled in exactly the same way, I decided to appealmyself to Dr. Holmes for the enlightenment of this second generation. SoI wrote him the following letter, which he kindly answered, telling usthat his "wretched man" was a myth like the heroes in "Mother Goose'sMelodies":

 "DEAR DR. HOLMES:

 "I have a little nephew to whom I often recite 'The Height of the Ridiculous, ' and he invariably asks for the lines that produced the fatal effect on your servant. He visited most of the bookstores in New York city to find them, and nothing but your own word, I am sure, will ever convince him that the 'wretched man' is but a figment of your imagination. I tried to satisfy him by saying you did not dare to publish the lines lest they should produce a similar effect on the typesetters, editors, and the readers of the Boston journals. 

 "However, he wishes me to ask you whether you kept a copy of the original manuscript, or could reproduce the lines with equal power. If not too much trouble, please send me a few lines on this point, and greatly oblige, "Yours sincerely, "ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. "

 "MY DEAR MRS. STANTON:

 "I wish you would explain to your little nephew that the story of the poor fellow who almost died laughing was a kind of a dream of mine, and not a real thing that happened, any more than that an old woman 'lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn't know what to do, ' or that Jack climbed the bean stalk and found the giant who lived at the top of it. You can explain to him what is meant by imagination, and thus turn my youthful rhymes into a text for a discourse worthy of the Concord School of Philosophy. I have not my poems by me here, but I remember that 'The Height of the Ridiculous' ended with this verse:

 "Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, I watched that wretched man, And since, I never dare to write As funny as I can. "

 "But tell your nephew he mustn't cry about it any more than because geese go barefoot and bald eagles have no nightcaps. The verses are in all the editions of my poems. 

 "Believe me, dear Mrs. Stanton, "Very Truly and Respectfully Yours, "OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. "

After spending the holidays in New York city, we started for Johnstownin a "stage sleigh, conveying the United States mail, " drawn by spankingteams of four horses, up the Hudson River valley. We were three daysgoing to Albany, stopping over night at various points; a journey nowperformed in three hours. The weather was clear and cold, the sleighingfine, the scenery grand, and our traveling companions most entertaining, so the trip was very enjoyable. From Albany to Schenectady we went inthe railway cars; then another sleighride of thirty miles brought us toJohnstown. My native hills, buried under two feet of snow, tinted withthe last rays of the setting sun, were a beautiful and familiar sight. Though I had been absent but ten months, it seemed like years, and I wassurprised to find how few changes had occurred since I left. My fatherand mother, sisters Madge and Kate, the old house and furniture, theneighbors, all looked precisely the same as when I left them. I hadseen so much and been so constantly on the wing that I wondered that allthings here should have stood still. I expected to hear of many births, marriages, deaths, and social upheavals, but the village news wasremarkably meager. This hunger for home news on returning is common, Isuppose, to all travelers. 

Our trunks unpacked, wardrobes arranged in closets and drawers, theexcitement of seeing friends over, we spent some time in making plansfor the future. 

My husband, after some consultation with my father, decided to enter hisoffice and commence the study of the law. As this arrangement kept meunder the parental roof, I had two added years of pleasure, walking, driving, and riding on horseback with my sisters. Madge and Kate weredearer to me than ever, as I saw the inevitable separation awaiting usin the near future. In due time they were married and commencedhousekeeping--Madge in her husband's house near by, and Kate in Buffalo. All my sisters were peculiarly fortunate in their marriages; theirhusbands being men of fine presence, liberal education, high moralcharacter, and marked ability. These were pleasant and profitable years. I devoted them to reading law, history, and political economy, withoccasional interruptions to take part in some temperance or anti-slaveryexcitement. 

Eliza Murray and I had classes of colored children in the Sunday school. On one occasion, when there was to be a festival, speaking in thechurch, a procession through the streets, and other public performancesfor the Sunday-school celebration, some narrow-minded bigots objected tothe colored children taking part. They approached Miss Murray and mewith most persuasive tones on the wisdom of not allowing them to marchin the procession to the church. We said, "Oh, no! It won't do todisappoint the children. They are all dressed, with their badges on, andlooking forward with great pleasure to the festivities of the day. Besides, we would not cater to any of these contemptible prejudicesagainst color. " We were all assembled in the courthouse preparatory toforming in the line of march. Some were determined to drive the coloredchildren home, but Miss Murray and I, like two defiant hens, kept ourlittle brood close behind us, determined to conquer or perish in thestruggle. At last milder counsels prevailed, and it was agreed that theymight march in the rear. We made no objection and fell into line, but, when we reached the church door, it was promptly closed as the lastwhite child went in. We tried two other doors, but all were guarded. Weshed tears of vexation and pity for the poor children, and, when theyasked us the reason why they could not go in, we were embarrassed andmortified with the explanation we were forced to give. However, Iinvited them to my father's house, where Miss Murray and I gave themrefreshments and entertained them for the rest of the day. 

The puzzling questions of theology and poverty that had occupied so muchof my thoughts, now gave place to the practical one, "what to do with ababy. " Though motherhood is the most important of all theprofessions, --requiring more knowledge than any other department inhuman affairs, --yet there is not sufficient attention given to thepreparation for this office. If we buy a plant of a horticulturist weask him many questions as to its needs, whether it thrives best insunshine or in shade, whether it needs much or little water, whatdegrees of heat or cold; but when we hold in our arms for the firsttime, a being of infinite possibilities, in whose wisdom may rest thedestiny of a nation, we take it for granted that the laws governing itslife, health, and happiness are intuitively understood, that there isnothing new to be learned in regard to it. Yet here is a science towhich philosophers have, as yet, given but little attention. Animportant fact has only been discovered and acted upon within the lastten years, that children come into the world tired, and not hungry, exhausted with the perilous journey. Instead of being thoroughly bathedand dressed, and kept on the rack while the nurse makes a prolongedtoilet and feeds it some nostrum supposed to have much needed medicinalinfluence, the child's face, eyes, and mouth should be hastily washedwith warm water, and the rest of its body thoroughly oiled, and then itshould be slipped into a soft pillow case, wrapped in a blanket, andlaid to sleep. Ordinarily, in the proper conditions, with its faceuncovered in a cool, pure atmosphere, it will sleep twelve hours. Thenit should be bathed, fed, and clothed in a high-necked, long-sleevedsilk shirt and a blanket, all of which could be done in five minutes. Asbabies lie still most of the time the first six weeks, they need nodressing. I think the nurse was a full hour bathing and dressing myfirstborn, who protested with a melancholy wail every blessed minute. 

Ignorant myself of the initiative steps on the threshold of time, Isupposed this proceeding was approved by the best authorities. However, I had been thinking, reading, observing, and had as little faith in thepopular theories in regard to babies as on any other subject. I sawthem, on all sides, ill half the time, pale and peevish, dying early, having no joy in life. I heard parents complaining of weary days andsleepless nights, while each child, in turn, ran the gauntlet of redgum, jaundice, whooping cough, chicken-pox, mumps, measles, scarletfever, and fits. They all seemed to think these inflictions were a partof the eternal plan--that Providence had a kind of Pandora's box, fromwhich he scattered these venerable diseases most liberally among thosewhom he especially loved. Having gone through the ordeal of bearing achild, I was determined, if possible, to keep him, so I read everythingI could find on the subject. But the literature on this subject was asconfusing and unsatisfactory as the longer and shorter catechisms andthe Thirty-nine Articles of our faith. I had recently visited our dearfriends, Theodore and Angelina Grimke-Weld, and they warned me againstbooks on this subject. They had been so misled by one author, whoassured them that the stomach of a child could only hold onetablespoonful, that they nearly starved their firstborn to death. Thoughthe child dwindled, day by day, and, at the end of a month, looked likea little old man, yet they still stood by the distinguished author. Fortunately, they both went off, one day, and left the child with Sister"Sarah, " who thought she would make an experiment and see what a child'sstomach could hold, as she had grave doubts about the tablespoonfultheory. To her surprise the baby took a pint bottle full of milk, andhad the sweetest sleep thereon he had known in his earthly career. Afterthat he was permitted to take what he wanted, and "the author" wasinformed of his libel on the infantile stomach. 

So here, again, I was entirely afloat, launched on the seas of doubtwithout chart or compass. The life and well-being of the race seemed tohang on the slender thread of such traditions as were handed downby-ignorant mothers and nurses. One powerful ray of light illuminatedthe darkness; it was the work of Andrew Combe on "Infancy. " He had, evidently watched some of the manifestations of man in the first stagesof his development, and could tell, at least, as much of babies asnaturalists could of beetles and bees. He did give young mothers somehints of what to do, the whys and wherefores of certain lines ofprocedure during antenatal life, as well as the proper care thereafter. I read several chapters to the nurse. Although, out of her ten children, she had buried five, she still had too much confidence in her own wisdomand experience to pay much attention to any new idea that might besuggested to her. Among other things, Combe said that a child's bathshould be regulated by the thermometer, in order to be always of thesame temperature. She ridiculed the idea, and said her elbow was betterthan any thermometer, and, when I insisted on its use, she wouldinvariably, with a smile of derision, put her elbow in first, to showhow exactly it tallied with the thermometer. When I insisted that thechild should not be bandaged, she rebelled outright, and said she wouldnot take the responsibility of nursing a child without a bandage. Isaid, "Pray, sit down, dear nurse, and let us reason together. Do notthink I am setting up my judgment against yours, with all yourexperience. I am simply trying to act on the opinions of adistinguished physician, who says there should be no pressure on a childanywhere; that the limbs and body should be free; that it is cruel tobandage an infant from hip to armpit, as is usually done in America; orboth body and legs, as is done in Europe; or strap them to boards, as isdone by savages on both continents. Can you give me one good reason, nurse, why a child should be bandaged?"

"Yes, " she said emphatically, "I can give you a dozen. "

"I only asked for one, " I replied. 

"Well, " said she, after much hesitation, "the bones of a newborn infantare soft, like cartilage, and, unless you pin them up snugly, there isdanger of their falling apart. "

"It seems to me, " I replied, "you have given the strongest reason whythey should be carefully guarded against the slightest pressure. It isvery remarkable that kittens and puppies should be so well put togetherthat they need no artificial bracing, and the human family be leftwholly to the mercy of a bandage. Suppose a child was born where youcould not get a bandage, what then? Now I think this child will remainintact without a bandage, and, if I am willing to take the risk, whyshould you complain?"

"Because, " said she, "if the child should die, it would injure my nameas a nurse. I therefore wash my hands of all these new-fangled notions. "

So she bandaged the child every morning, and I as regularly took it off. It has been fully proved since to be as useless an appendage as thevermiform. She had several cups with various concoctions of herbsstanding on the chimney-corner, ready for insomnia, colic, indigestion, etc. , etc. , all of which were spirited away when she was at her dinner. In vain I told her we were homeopathists, and afraid of everything inthe animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdoms lower than the two-hundredthdilution. I tried to explain the Hahnemann system of therapeutics, thephilosophy of the principle _similia similibus curantur_, but she had nocapacity for first principles, and did not understand my discourse. Itold her that, if she would wash the baby's mouth with pure cold watermorning and night and give it a teaspoonful to drink occasionally duringthe day, there would be no danger of red gum; that if she would keep theblinds open and let in the air and sunshine, keep the temperature of theroom at sixty-five degrees, leave the child's head uncovered so that itcould breathe freely, stop rocking and trotting it and singing suchmelancholy hymns as "Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound!" the baby andI would both be able to weather the cape without a bandage. I told her Ishould nurse the child once in two hours, and that she must not feed itany of her nostrums in the meantime; that a child's stomach, being madeon the same general plan as our own, needed intervals of rest as well asours. She said it would be racked with colic if the stomach was emptyany length of time, and that it would surely have rickets if it werekept too still. I told her if the child had no anodynes, nature wouldregulate its sleep and motions. She said she could not stay in a roomwith the thermometer at sixty-five degrees, so I told her to sit in thenext room and regulate the heat to suit herself; that I would ring abell when her services were needed. 

The reader will wonder, no doubt, that I kept such a cantankerousservant. I could get no other. Dear "Mother Monroe, " as wise as she wasgood, and as tender as she was strong, who had nursed two generations ofmothers in our village, was engaged at that time, and I was compelled totake an exotic. I had often watched "Mother Monroe" with admiration, asshe turned and twisted my sister's baby. It lay as peacefully in herhands as if they were lined with eider down. She bathed and dressed itby easy stages, turning the child over and over like a pancake. But shewas so full of the magnetism of human love, giving the child, all thetime, the most consoling assurance that the operation was to be a shortone, that the whole proceeding was quite entertaining to the observerand seemingly agreeable to the child, though it had a rather surprisedlook as it took a bird's-eye view, in quick succession, of the ceilingand the floor. Still my nurse had her good points. She was very pleasantwhen she had her own way. She was neat and tidy, and ready to serve meat any time, night or day. She did not wear false teeth that rattledwhen she talked, nor boots that squeaked when she walked. She did notsnuff nor chew cloves, nor speak except when spoken to. Our discussions, on various points, went on at intervals, until I succeeded in plantingsome ideas in her mind, and when she left me, at the end of six weeks, she confessed that she had learned some valuable lessons. As the babyhad slept quietly most of the time, had no crying spells, nor colic, andI looked well, she naturally came to the conclusion that pure air, sunshine, proper dressing, and regular feeding were more necessary forbabies than herb teas and soothing syrups. 

Besides the obstinacy of the nurse, I had the ignorance of physiciansto contend with. When the child was four days old we discovered that thecollar bone was bent. The physician, wishing to get a pressure on theshoulder, braced the bandage round the wrist. "Leave that, " he said, "ten days, and then it will be all right. " Soon after he left I noticedthat the child's hand was blue, showing that the circulation wasimpeded. "That will never do, " said I; "nurse, take it off. " "No, indeed, " she answered, "I shall never interfere with the doctor. " So Itook it off myself, and sent for another doctor, who was said to knowmore of surgery. He expressed great surprise that the first physiciancalled should have put on so severe a bandage. "That, " said he, "woulddo for a grown man, but ten days of it on a child would make him acripple. " However, he did nearly the same thing, only fastening it roundthe hand instead of the wrist. I soon saw that the ends of the fingerswere all purple, and that to leave that on ten days would be asdangerous as the first. So I took that off. 

"What a woman!" exclaimed the nurse. "What do you propose to do?"

"Think out something better, myself; so brace me up with some pillowsand give the baby to me. "

She looked at me aghast and said, "You'd better trust the doctors, oryour child will be a helpless cripple. "

"Yes, " I replied, "he would be, if we had left either of those bandageson, but I have an idea of something better. "

"Now, " said I, talking partly to myself and partly to her, "what we wantis a little pressure on that bone; that is what both those men aimed at. How can we get it without involving the arm, is the question?"

"I am sure I don't know, " said she, rubbing her hands and taking two orthree brisk turns round the room. 

"Well, bring me three strips of linen, four double. " I then folded one, wet in arnica and water, and laid it on the collar bone, put two otherbands, like a pair of suspenders, over the shoulders, crossing them bothin front and behind, pinning the ends to the diaper, which gave theneeded pressure without impeding the circulation anywhere. As I finishedshe gave me a look of budding confidence, and seemed satisfied that allwas well. Several times, night and day, we wet the compress andreadjusted the bands, until all appearances of inflammation hadsubsided. 

At the end of ten days the two sons of Aesculapius appeared and madetheir examination and said all was right, whereupon I told them howbadly their bandages worked and what I had done myself. They smiled ateach other, and one said:

"Well, after all, a mother's instinct is better than a man's reason. "

"Thank you, gentlemen, there was no instinct about it. I did some hardthinking before I saw how I could get a pressure on the shoulder withoutimpeding the circulation, as you did. "

Thus, in the supreme moment of a young mother's life, when I neededtender care and support, I felt the whole responsibility of my child'ssupervision; but though uncertain at every step of my own knowledge, Ilearned another lesson in self-reliance. I trusted neither men nor booksabsolutely after this, either in regard to the heavens above or theearth beneath, but continued to use my "mother's instinct, " if "reason"is too dignified a term to apply to woman's thoughts. My advice to everymother is, above all other arts and sciences, study first what relatesto babyhood, as there is no department of human action in which there issuch lamentable ignorance. 

At the end of six weeks my nurse departed, and I had a good woman in herplace who obeyed my orders, and now a new difficulty arose from anunexpected quarter. My father and husband took it into their heads thatthe child slept too much. If not awake when they wished to look at himor to show him to their friends, they would pull him out of his crib onall occasions. When I found neither of them was amenable to reason onthis point, I locked the door, and no amount of eloquent pleading evergained them admittance during the time I considered sacred to the baby'sslumbers. At six months having, as yet, had none of the diseasessupposed to be inevitable, the boy weighed thirty pounds. Then thestately Peter came again into requisition, and in his strong arms thechild spent many of his waking hours. Peter, with a long, elephantinegait, slowly wandered over the town, lingering especially in the busymarts of trade. Peter's curiosity had strengthened with years, and, wherever a crowd gathered round a monkey and hand organ, a vender'swagon, an auction stand, or the post office at mail time, there stoodPeter, black as coal, with "the beautiful boy in white, " the mostconspicuous figure in the crowd. As I told Peter never to let childrenkiss the baby, for fear of some disease, he kept him well aloft, allowing no affectionate manifestations except toward himself. 

My reading, at this time, centered on hygiene. I came to theconclusion, after much thought and observation, that children nevercried unless they were uncomfortable. A professor at Union College, whoused to combat many of my theories, said he gave one of his children asound spanking at six weeks, and it never disturbed him a nightafterward. Another Solomon told me that a very weak preparation of opiumwould keep a child always quiet and take it through the dangerous periodof teething without a ripple on the surface of domestic life. Aschildren cannot tell what ails them, and suffer from many things ofwhich parents are ignorant, the crying of the child should arouse themto an intelligent examination. To spank it for crying is to silence thewatchman on the tower through fear, to give soothing syrup is to drugthe watchman while the evils go on. Parents may thereby insure eighthours' sleep at the time, but at the risk of greater trouble in thefuture with sick and dying children. Tom Moore tells us "the heart fromlove to one, grows bountiful to all. " I know the care of one child mademe thoughtful of all. I never hear a child cry, now, that I do not feelthat I am bound to find out the reason. 

In my extensive travels on lecturing tours, in after years, I had manyvaried experiences with babies. One day, in the cars, a child was cryingnear me, while the parents were alternately shaking and slapping it. First one would take it with an emphatic jerk, and then the other. Atlast I heard the father say in a spiteful tone, "If you don't stop I'llthrow you out of the window. " One naturally hesitates about interferingbetween parents and children, so I generally restrain myself as long asI can endure the torture of witnessing such outrages, but at length Iturned and said:

"Let me take your child and see if I can find out what ails it. "

"Nothing ails it, " said the father, "but bad temper. "

The child readily came to me. I felt all around to see if its clothespinched anywhere, or if there were any pins pricking. I took off its hatand cloak to see if there were any strings cutting its neck or chokingit. Then I glanced at the feet, and lo! there was the trouble. The bootswere at least one size too small. I took them off, and the stockings, too, and found the feet as cold as ice and the prints of the stockingsclearly traced on the tender flesh. We all know the agony of tightboots. I rubbed the feet and held them in my hands until they were warm, when the poor little thing fell asleep. I said to the parents, "You areyoung people, I see, and this is probably your first child. " They said, "Yes. " "You don't intend to be cruel, I know, but if you had thrownthose boots out of the window, when you threatened to throw the child, it would have been wiser. This poor child has suffered ever since it wasdressed this morning. " I showed them the marks on the feet, and calledtheir attention to the fact that the child fell asleep as soon as itspain was relieved. The mother said she knew the boots were tight, as itwas with difficulty she could get them on, but the old ones were tooshabby for the journey and they had no time to change the others. 

"Well, " said the husband, "if I had known those boots were tight, Iwould have thrown them out of the window. "

"Now, " said I, "let me give you one rule: when your child cries, remember it is telling you, as well as it can, that something hurts it, either outside or in, and do not rest until you find what it is. Neither spanking, shaking, or scolding can relieve pain. "

I have seen women enter the cars with their babies' faces completelycovered with a blanket shawl. I have often thought I would like to covertheir faces for an hour and see how they would bear it. In suchcircumstances, in order to get the blanket open, I have asked to see thebaby, and generally found it as red as a beet. Ignorant nurses andmothers have discovered that children sleep longer with their headscovered. They don't know why, nor the injurious effect of breathing overand over the same air that has been thrown off the lungs polluted withcarbonic acid gas. This stupefies the child and prolongs the unhealthyslumber. 

One hot day, in the month of May, I entered a crowded car at CedarRapids, Ia. , and took the only empty seat beside a gentleman who seemedvery nervous about a crying child. I was scarcely seated when he said:

"Mother, do you know anything about babies?"

"Oh, yes!" I said, smiling, "that is a department of knowledge on whichI especially pride myself. "

"Well, " said he, "there is a child that has cried most of the time forthe last twenty-four hours. What do you think ails it?"

Making a random supposition, I replied, "It probably needs a bath. "

He promptly rejoined, "If you will give it one, I will provide thenecessary means. "

I said, "I will first see if the child will come to me and if the motheris willing. "

I found the mother only too glad to have a few minutes' rest, and thechild too tired to care who took it. She gave me a suit of cleanclothes throughout, the gentleman spread his blanket shawl on the seat, securing the opposite one for me and the bathing appliances. Then heproduced a towel, sponge, and an india-rubber bowl full of water, and Igave the child a generous drink and a thorough ablution. It stretchedand seemed to enjoy every step of the proceeding, and, while I wasbrushing its golden curls as gently as I could, it fell asleep; so Icovered it with the towel and blanket shawl, not willing to disturb itfor dressing. The poor mother, too, was sound asleep, and the gentlemanvery happy. He had children of his own and, like me, felt great pity forthe poor, helpless little victim of ignorance and folly. I engaged oneof the ladies to dress it when it awoke, as I was soon to leave thetrain. It slept the two hours I remained--how much longer I never heard. 

A young man, who had witnessed the proceeding, got off at the samestation and accosted me, saying:

"I should be very thankful if you would come and see my baby. It is onlyone month old and cries all the time, and my wife, who is only sixteenyears old, is worn out with it and neither of us know what to do, so weall cry together, and the doctor says he does not see what ails it. "

So I went on my mission of mercy and found the child bandaged as tightas a drum. When I took out the pins and unrolled it, it fairly poppedlike the cork out of a champagne bottle. I rubbed its breast and itsback and soon soothed it to sleep. I remained a long time, telling themhow to take care of the child and the mother, too. I told themeverything I could think of in regard to clothes, diet, and pure air. Iasked the mother why she bandaged her child as she did. She said hernurse told her that there was danger of hernia unless the abdomen waswell bandaged. I told her that the only object of a bandage was toprotect the navel, for a few days, until it was healed, and for thatpurpose all that was necessary was a piece of linen four inches square, well oiled, folded four times double, with a hole in the center, laidover it. I remembered, next day, that I forgot to tell them to give thechild water, and so I telegraphed them, "Give the baby water six times aday. " I heard of that baby afterward. It lived and flourished, and theparents knew how to administer to the wants of the next one. The fatherwas a telegraph operator and had many friends--knights of thekey--throughout Iowa. For many years afterward, in leisure moments, these knights would "call up" this parent and say, over the wire, "Givethe baby water six times a day. " Thus did they "repeat the story, andspread the truth from pole to pole. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

BOSTON AND CHELSEA. 

In the autumn of 1843 my husband was admitted to the bar and commencedthe practice of law in Boston with Mr. Bowles, brother-in-law of thelate General John A. Dix. This gave me the opportunity to make manypleasant acquaintances among the lawyers in Boston, and to meet, intimately, many of the noble men and women among reformers, whom I hadlong worshiped at a distance. Here, for the first time, I met LydiaMaria Child, Abby Kelly, Paulina Wright, Elizabeth Peabody, MariaChapman and her beautiful sisters, the Misses Weston, Oliver andMarianna Johnson, Joseph and Thankful Southwick and their three brightdaughters. The home of the Southwicks was always a harbor of rest forthe weary, where the anti-slavery hosts were wont to congregate, andwhere one was always sure to meet someone worth knowing. Theirhospitality was generous to an extreme, and so boundless that they were, at last, fairly eaten out of house and home. Here, too, for the firsttime, I met Theodore Parker, John Pierpont, John G. Whittier, Emerson, Alcott, Lowell, Hawthorne, Mr. And Mrs. Samuel E. Sewall, Sidney HowardGay, Pillsbury, Foster, Frederick Douglass, and last though not least, those noble men, Charles Hovey and Francis Jackson, the only men whoever left any money to the cause of woman suffrage. I also met MissJackson, afterward Mrs. Eddy, who left half her fortune, fifty thousanddollars, for the same purpose. 

I was a frequent visitor at the home of William Lloyd Garrison. Thoughhe had a prolonged battle to fight in the rough outside world, his homewas always a haven of rest. Mrs. Garrison was a sweet-tempered, conscientious woman, who tried, under all circumstances, to do what wasright. She had sound judgment and rare common sense, was tall andfine-looking, with luxuriant brown hair, large tender blue eyes, delicate features, and affable manners. They had an exceptionally finefamily of five sons and one daughter. Fanny, now the wife of HenryVillard, the financier, was the favorite and pet. All the children, intheir maturer years, have fulfilled the promises of their childhood. Though always in straitened circumstances, the Garrisons were veryhospitable. It was next to impossible for Mr. Garrison to meet a friendwithout inviting him to his house, especially at the close of aconvention. 

I was one of twelve at one of his impromptu tea parties. We all took itfor granted that his wife knew we were coming, and that her preparationswere already made. Surrounded by half a dozen children, she wasperforming the last act in the opera of Lullaby, wholly unconscious ofthe invasion downstairs. But Mr. Garrison was equal to every emergency, and, after placing his guests at their ease in the parlor, he hastenedto the nursery, took off his coat, and rocked the baby until his wifehad disposed of the remaining children. Then they had a consultationabout the tea, and when, basket in hand, the good man sallied forth forthe desired viands, Mrs. Garrison, having made a hasty toilet, camedown to welcome her guests. She was as genial and self-possessed as ifall things had been prepared. She made no apologies for what was lackingin the general appearance of the house nor in the variety of the_menu_--it was sufficient for her to know that Mr. Garrison was happy infeeling free to invite his friends. The impromptu meal was excellent, and we had a most enjoyable evening. I have no doubt that Mrs. Garrisonhad more real pleasure than if she had been busy all day makingpreparations and had been tired out when her guests arrived. 

The anti-slavery conventions and fairs, held every year during theholidays, brought many charming people from other States, and madeBoston a social center for the coadjutors of Garrison and Phillips. These conventions surpassed any meetings I had ever attended; thespeeches were eloquent and the debates earnest and forcible. Garrisonand Phillips were in their prime, and slavery was a question of nationalinterest. The hall in which the fairs were held, under the auspices ofMrs. Chapman and her cohorts, was most artistically decorated. There onecould purchase whatever the fancy could desire, for English friends, stimulated by the appeals of Harriet Martineau and Elizabeth Pease, usedto send boxes of beautiful things, gathered from all parts of theEastern Continent. There, too, one could get a most _recherché_ luncheonin the society of the literati of Boston; for, however indifferent manywere to slavery _per se_, they enjoyed these fairs, and all classesflocked there till far into the night. It was a kind of ladies' exchangefor the holiday week, where each one was sure to meet her friends. Thefair and the annual convention, coming in succession, intensified theinterest in both. I never grew weary of the conventions, though Iattended all the sessions, lasting, sometimes, until eleven o'clock atnight. The fiery eloquence of the abolitionists, the amusing episodesthat occurred when some crank was suppressed and borne out on theshoulders of his brethren, gave sufficient variety to the proceedings tokeep the interest up to high-water mark. 

There was one old man dressed in white, carrying a scythe, who imaginedhimself the personification of "Time, " though called "Father Lampson. "Occasionally he would bubble over with some prophetic vision, and, as hecould not be silenced, he was carried out. He usually made himself aslimp as possible, which added to the difficulty of his exit and theamusement of the audience. A ripple of merriment would unsettle, for amoment, even the dignity of the platform when Abigail Folsom, anothercrank, would shout from the gallery, "Stop not, my brother, on the orderof your going, but go. " The abolitionists were making the experiment, atthis time, of a free platform, allowing everyone to speak as moved bythe spirit, but they soon found that would not do, as those evidentlymoved by the spirit of mischief were quite as apt to air their vagariesas those moved by the spirit of truth. 

However, the Garrisonian platform always maintained a certain degree offreedom outside its regular programme, and, although this involved extraduty in suppressing cranks, yet the meeting gained enthusiasm by somegood spontaneous speaking on the floor as well as on the platform. Anumber of immense mass meetings were held in Faneuil Hall, a large, dreary place, with its bare walls and innumerable dingy windows. Theonly attempt at an ornament was the American eagle, with its wingsspread and claws firmly set, in the middle of the gallery. The gilt wasworn off its beak, giving it the appearance, as Edmund Quincy said, ofhaving a bad cold in the head. 

This old hall was sacred to so many memories connected with the earlydays of the Revolution that it was a kind of Mecca for the lovers ofliberty visiting Boston. The anti-slavery meetings held there were oftendisturbed by mobs that would hold the most gifted orator at bay hourafter hour, and would listen only to the songs of the Hutchinson family. Although these songs were a condensed extract of the whole anti-slaveryconstitution and by-laws, yet the mob was as peaceful under these paeansto liberty as a child under the influence of an anodyne. What a welcomeand beautiful vision that was when the four brothers, in blue broadclothand white collars, turned down _à la_ Byron, and little sister Abby insilk, soft lace, and blue ribbon, appeared on the platform to sing theirquaint ballads of freedom! Fresh from the hills of New Hampshire, theylooked so sturdy, so vigorous, so pure, so true that they seemed fittingrepresentatives of all the cardinal virtues, and even a howling mobcould not resist their influence. Perhaps, after one of their ballads, the mob would listen five minutes to Wendell Phillips or Garrison untilhe gave them some home thrusts, when all was uproar again. The Northernmerchants who made their fortunes out of Southern cotton, thepoliticians who wanted votes, and the ministers who wanted to keep peacein the churches, were all as much opposed to the anti-slavery agitationas were the slaveholders themselves. These were the classes the mobrepresented, though seemingly composed of gamblers, liquor dealers, anddemagogues. For years the anti-slavery struggle at the North was carriedon against statecraft, priestcraft, the cupidity of the moneyed classes, and the ignorance of the masses, but, in spite of all these forces ofevil, it triumphed at last. 

I was in Boston at the time that Lane and Wright, some metaphysicalEnglishmen, and our own Alcott held their famous philosophicalconversations, in which Elizabeth Peabody took part. I went to themregularly. I was ambitious to absorb all the wisdom I could, but, really, I could not give an intelligent report of the points underdiscussion at any sitting. Oliver Johnson asked me, one day, if Ienjoyed them. I thought, from a twinkle in his eye, that he thought Idid not, so I told him I was ashamed to confess that I did not know whatthey were talking about. He said, "Neither do I, --very few of theirhearers do, --so you need not be surprised that they are incomprehensibleto you, nor think less of your own capacity. "

I was indebted to Mr. Johnson for several of the greatest pleasures Ienjoyed in Boston. He escorted me to an entire course of TheodoreParker's lectures, given in Marlborough Chapel. This was soon after thegreat preacher had given his famous sermon on "The Permanent andTransient in Religion, " when he was ostracised, even by the Unitarians, for his radical utterances, and not permitted to preach in any of theirpulpits. His lectures were deemed still more heterodox than that sermon. He shocked the orthodox churches of that day--more, even, than Ingersollhas in our times. 

The lectures, however, were so soul-satisfying to me that I wassurprised at the bitter criticisms I heard expressed. Though they weretwo hours long, I never grew weary, and, when the course ended, I saidto Mr. Johnson:

"I wish I could hear them over again. "

"Well, you can, " said he, "Mr. Parker is to repeat them inCambridgeport, beginning next week. " Accordingly we went there and heardthem again with equal satisfaction. 

During the winter in Boston I attended all the lectures, churches, theaters, concerts, and temperance, peace, and prison-reform conventionswithin my reach. I had never lived in such an enthusiastically literaryand reform latitude before, and my mental powers were kept at thehighest tension. We went to Chelsea, for the summer, and boarded withthe Baptist minister, the Rev. John Wesley Olmstead, afterward editor of_The Watchman and Reflector_. He had married my cousin, Mary Livingston, one of the most lovely, unselfish characters I ever knew. There I hadthe opportunity of meeting several of the leading Baptist ministers inNew England, and, as I was thoroughly imbued with Parker's ideas, we hadmany heated discussions on theology. There, too, I met Orestes Bronson, a remarkably well-read man, who had gone through every phase ofreligious experience from blank atheism to the bosom of the CatholicChurch, where I believe he found repose at the end of his days. He wasso arbitrary and dogmatic that most people did not like him; but Iappreciated his acquaintance, as he was a liberal thinker and had aworld of information which he readily imparted to those of a teachablespirit. As I was then in a hungering, thirsting condition for truth onevery subject, the friendship of such a man was, to me, an inestimableblessing. Reading Theodore Parker's lectures, years afterward, I wassurprised to find how little there was in them to shock anybody--themajority of thinking people having grown up to them. 

While living in Chelsea two years, I used to walk (there being no publicconveyances running on Sunday) from the ferry to Marlborough Chapel tohear Mr. Parker preach. It was a long walk, over two miles, and I was sotired, on reaching the chapel, that I made it a point to sleep throughall the preliminary service, so as to be fresh for the sermon, as thefriend next whom I sat always wakened me in time. One Sunday, when myfriend was absent, it being a very warm day and I unusually fatigued, Islept until the sexton informed me that he was about to close the doors!In an unwary moment I imparted this fact to my Baptist friends. Theymade all manner of fun ever afterward of the soothing nature of Mr. Parker's theology, and my long walk, every Sunday, to repose in theshadow of a heterodox altar. Still, the loss of the sermon was the onlyvexatious part of it, and I had the benefit of the walk and therefreshing slumber, to the music of Mr. Parker's melodious voice and thedeep-toned organ. 

Mrs. Oliver Johnson and I spent two days at the Brook Farm Communitywhen in the height of its prosperity. There I met the Ripleys, --whowere, I believe, the backbone of the experiment, --William HenryChanning, Bronson Alcott, Charles A. Dana, Frederick Cabot, WilliamChase, Mrs. Horace Greeley, who was spending a few days there, and manyothers, whose names I cannot recall. Here was a charming family ofintelligent men and women, doing their own farm and house work, withlectures, readings, music, dancing, and games when desired; realizing, in a measure, Edward Bellamy's beautiful vision of the equal conditionsof the human family in the year 2000. The story of the beginning and endof this experiment of community life has been told so often that I willsimply say that its failure was a grave disappointment to those mostdeeply interested in its success. Mr. Channing told me, years after, when he was pastor of the Unitarian church in Rochester, as we werewandering through Mount Hope one day, that, when the Roxbury communitywas dissolved and he was obliged to return to the old life ofcompetition, he would gladly have been laid under the sod, as theisolated home seemed so solitary, silent, and selfish that the wholeatmosphere was oppressive. 

In 1843 my father moved to Albany, to establish my brothers-in-law, Mr. Wilkeson and Mr. McMartin, in the legal profession. That made Albany thefamily rallying point for a few years. This enabled me to spend severalwinters at the Capital and to take an active part in the discussion ofthe Married Woman's Property Bill, then pending in the legislature. William H. Seward, Governor of the State from 1839 to 1843, recommendedthe Bill, and his wife, a woman of rare intelligence, advocated it insociety. Together we had the opportunity of talking with many members, both of the Senate and the Assembly, in social circles, as well as intheir committee rooms. Bills were pending from 1836 until 1848, when themeasure finally passed. 

My second son was born in Albany, in March, 1844, under more favorableauspices than the first, as I knew, then, what to do with a baby. Returning to Chelsea we commenced housekeeping, which afforded meanother chapter of experience. A new house, newly furnished, withbeautiful views of Boston Bay, was all I could desire. Mr. Stantonannounced to me, in starting, that his business would occupy all histime, and that I must take entire charge of the housekeeping. So, withtwo good servants and two babies under my sole supervision, my time waspleasantly occupied. 

When first installed as mistress over an establishment, one has thatsame feeling of pride and satisfaction that a young minister must havein taking charge of his first congregation. It is a proud moment in awoman's life to reign supreme within four walls, to be the one to whomall questions of domestic pleasure and economy are referred, and to holdin her hand that little family book in which the daily expenses, theoutgoings and incomings, are duly registered. I studied up everythingpertaining to housekeeping, and enjoyed it all. Even washing day--thatday so many people dread--had its charms for me. The clean clothes onthe lines and on the grass looked so white, and smelled so sweet, thatit was to me a pretty sight to contemplate. I inspired my laundress withan ambition to have her clothes look white and to get them out earlierthan our neighbors, and to have them ironed and put away sooner. 

As Mr. Stanton did not come home to dinner, we made a picnic of our noonmeal on Mondays, and all thoughts and energies were turned to speed thewashing. No unnecessary sweeping or dusting, no visiting norentertaining angels unawares on that day--it was held sacred to soapsuds, blue-bags, and clotheslines. The children, only, had no deviationin the regularity of their lives. They had their drives and walks, their naps and rations, in quantity and time, as usual. I had all themost approved cook books, and spent half my time preserving, pickling, and experimenting in new dishes. I felt the same ambition to excel inall departments of the culinary art that I did at school in thedifferent branches of learning. My love of order and cleanliness wascarried throughout, from parlor to kitchen, from the front door to theback. I gave a man an extra shilling to pile the logs of firewood withtheir smooth ends outward, though I did not have them scoured white, asdid our Dutch grandmothers. I tried, too, to give an artistic touch toeverything--the dress of my children and servants included. My diningtable was round, always covered with a clean cloth of a pretty patternand a centerpiece of flowers in their season, pretty dishes, cleansilver, and set with neatness and care. I put my soul into everything, and hence enjoyed it. I never could understand how housekeepers couldrest with rubbish all round their back doors; eggshells, broken dishes, tin cans, and old shoes scattered round their premises; servants raggedand dirty, with their hair in papers, and with the kitchen and diningroom full of flies. I have known even artists to be indifferent to theirpersonal appearance and their surroundings. Surely a mother and child, tastefully dressed, and a pretty home for a framework, is, as a picture, even more attractive than a domestic scene hung on the wall. The love ofthe beautiful can be illustrated as well in life as on canvas. There issuch a struggle among women to become artists that I really wish some oftheir gifts could be illustrated in clean, orderly, beautiful homes. 

Our house was pleasantly situated on the Chelsea Hills, commanding afine view of Boston, the harbor, and surrounding country. There, on theupper piazza, I spent some of the happiest days of my life, enjoying, inturn, the beautiful outlook, my children, and my books. Here, under thevery shadow of Bunker Hill Monument, my third son was born. Shortlyafter this Gerrit Smith and his wife came to spend a few days with us, so this boy, much against my will, was named after my cousin. I did notbelieve in old family names unless they were peculiarly euphonious. Ihad a list of beautiful names for sons and daughters, from which todesignate each newcomer; but, as yet, not one on my list had been used. However, I put my foot down, at No. 4, and named him Theodore, and, thusfar, he has proved himself a veritable "gift of God, " doing hisuttermost, in every way possible, to fight the battle of freedom forwoman. 

During the visit of my cousin I thought I would venture on a small, select dinner party, consisting of the Rev. John Pierpont and his wife, Charles Sumner, John G. Whittier, and Joshua Leavitt. I had a new cook, Rose, whose viands, thus far, had proved delicious, so I had no anxietyon that score. But, unfortunately, on this occasion I had given her abottle of wine for the pudding sauce and whipped cream, of which sheimbibed too freely, and hence there were some glaring blunders in the_menu_ that were exceedingly mortifying. As Mr. Smith and my husbandwere both good talkers, I told them they must cover all defects withtheir brilliant conversation, which they promised to do. 

Rose had all the points of a good servant, phrenologically andphysiologically. She had a large head, with great bumps of caution andorder, her eyes were large and soft and far apart. In selecting her, scientifically, I had told my husband, in triumph, several times what atreasure I had found. Shortly after dinner, one evening when I was out, she held the baby while the nurse was eating her supper, and carelesslyburned his foot against the stove. Then Mr. Stanton suggested that, inselecting the next cook, I would better not trust to science, butinquire of the family where she lived as to her practical virtues. PoorRose! she wept over her lapses when sober, and made fair promises forthe future, but I did not dare to trust her, so we parted. The onedrawback to the joys of housekeeping was then, as it is now, the lack offaithful, competent servants. The hope of co-operative housekeeping, inthe near future, gives us some promise of a more harmonious domesticlife. 

One of the books in my library I value most highly is the first volumeof Whittier's poems, published in 1838, "Dedicated to Henry B. Stanton, as a token of the author's personal friendship, and of his respect forthe unreserved devotion of exalted talents to the cause of humanity andfreedom. " Soon after our marriage we spent a few days with our giftedQuaker poet, on his farm in Massachusetts. 

I shall never forget those happy days in June; the long walks anddrives, and talks under the old trees of anti-slavery experiences, andWhittier's mirth and indignation as we described different scenes in theWorld's Anti-slavery Convention in London. He laughed immoderately atthe Tom Campbell episode. Poor fellow! he had taken too much wine thatday, and when Whittier's verses, addressed to the convention, wereread, he criticised them severely, and wound up by saying that the soulof a poet was not in him. Mr. Stanton sprang to his feet and recitedsome of Whittier's stirring stanzas on freedom, which electrified theaudience, and, turning to Campbell, he said: "What do you say to that?""Ah! that's real poetry, " he replied. "And John Greenleaf Whittier isits author, " said Mr. Stanton. 

I enjoyed, too, the morning and evening service, when the revered motherread the Scriptures and we all bowed our heads in silent worship. Therewas, at times, an atmosphere of solemnity pervading everything, that wasoppressive in the midst of so much that appealed to my higher nature. There was a shade of sadness in even the smile of the mother and sister, and a rigid plainness in the house and its surroundings, a depressedlook in Whittier himself that the songs of the birds, the sunshine, andthe bracing New England air seemed powerless to chase away, caused, as Iafterward heard, by pecuniary embarrassment, and fears in regard to thedelicate health of the sister. She, too, had rare poetical talent, andin her Whittier found not only a helpful companion in the practicalaffairs of life, but one who sympathized with him in the highest flightsof which his muse was capable. Their worst fears were realized in thedeath of the sister not long after. In his last volume several of herpoems were published, which are quite worthy the place the brother'sappreciation has given them. Whittier's love and reverence for hismother and sister, so marked in every word and look, were charmingfeatures of his home life. All his poems to our sex breathe the sametender, worshipful sentiments. 

Soon after this visit at Amesbury, our noble friend spent a few dayswith us in Chelsea, near Boston. One evening, after we had been talkinga long time of the unhappy dissensions among anti-slavery friends, byway of dissipating the shadows I opened the piano, and proposed that weshould sing some cheerful songs. "Oh, no!" exclaimed Mr. Stanton, "donot touch a note; you will put every nerve of Whittier's body on edge. "It seemed, to me, so natural for a poet to love music that I wassurprised to know that it was a torture to him. 

From our upper piazza we had a fine view of Boston harbor. Sitting therelate one moonlight night, admiring the outlines of Bunker Hill Monumentand the weird effect of the sails and masts of the vessels lying in theharbor, we naturally passed from the romance of our surroundings tothose of our lives. I have often noticed that the most reserved peopleare apt to grow confidential at such an hour. It was under suchcircumstances that the good poet opened to me a deeply interesting pageof his life, a sad romance of love and disappointment, that may not yetbe told, as some who were interested in the events are still among theliving. 

Whittier's poems were not only one of the most important factors in theanti-slavery war and victory, but they have been equally potent inemancipating the minds of his generation from the gloomy superstitionsof the puritanical religion. Oliver Wendell Holmes, in his eulogy ofWhittier, says that his influence on the religious thought of theAmerican people has been far greater than that of the occupant of anypulpit. 

As my husband's health was delicate, and the New England winters provedtoo severe for him, we left Boston, with many regrets, and sought a moregenial climate in Central New York. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE FIRST WOMAN'S RIGHTS CONVENTION. 

In the spring of 1847 we moved to Seneca Falls. Here we spent sixteenyears of our married life, and here our other children--two sons and twodaughters--were born. 

Just as we were ready to leave Boston, Mr. And Mrs. Eaton and their twochildren arrived from Europe, and we decided to go together toJohnstown, Mr. Eaton being obliged to hurry to New York on business, andMr. Stanton to remain still in Boston a few months. At the last momentmy nurse decided she could not leave her friends and go so far away. Accordingly my sister and I started, by rail, with five children andseventeen trunks, for Albany, where we rested over night and part of thenext day. We had a very fatiguing journey, looking after so many trunksand children, for my sister's children persisted in standing on theplatform at every opportunity, and the younger ones would follow theirexample. This kept us constantly on the watch. We were thankful whensafely landed once more in the old homestead in Johnstown, where wearrived at midnight. As our beloved parents had received no warning ofour coming, the whole household was aroused to dispose of us. But now insafe harbor, 'mid familiar scenes and pleasant memories, our slumberswere indeed refreshing. How rapidly one throws off all care and anxietyunder the parental roof, and how at sea one feels, no matter what theage may be, when the loved ones are gone forever and the home ofchildhood is but a dream of the past. 

After a few days of rest I started, alone, for my new home, quite happywith the responsibility of repairing a house and putting all things inorder. I was already acquainted with many of the people and thesurroundings in Seneca Falls, as my sister, Mrs. Bayard, had lived thereseveral years, and I had frequently made her long visits. We had quite amagnetic circle of reformers, too, in central New York. At Rochesterwere William Henry Channing, Frederick Douglass, the Anthonys, Posts, Hallowells, Stebbins, --some grand old Quaker families atFarmington, --the Sedgwicks, Mays, Mills, and Matilda Joslyn Gage atSyracuse; Gerrit Smith at Peterboro, and Beriah Green at Whitesboro. 

The house we were to occupy had been closed for some years and neededmany repairs, and the grounds, comprising five acres, were overgrownwith weeds. My father gave me a check and said, with a smile, "Youbelieve in woman's capacity to do and dare; now go ahead and put yourplace in order. " After a minute survey of the premises and dueconsultation with one or two sons of Adam, I set the carpenters, painters, paper-hangers, and gardeners at work, built a new kitchen andwoodhouse, and in one month took possession. Having left my childrenwith my mother, there were no impediments to a full display of myexecutive ability. In the purchase of brick, timber, paint, etc. , and inmaking bargains with workmen, I was in frequent consultation with JudgeSackett and Mr. Bascom. The latter was a member of the ConstitutionalConvention, then in session in Albany, and as he used to walk downwhenever he was at home, to see how my work progressed, we had longtalks, sitting on boxes in the midst of tools and shavings, on thestatus of women. I urged him to propose an amendment to Article II, Section 3, of the State Constitution, striking out the word "male, "which limits the suffrage to men. But, while he fully agreed with all Ihad to say on the political equality of women, he had not the courage tomake himself the laughing-stock of the convention. Whenever I corneredhim on this point, manlike he turned the conversation to the paintersand carpenters. However, these conversations had the effect of bringinghim into the first woman's convention, where he did us good service. 

In Seneca Falls my life was comparatively solitary, and the change fromBoston was somewhat depressing. There, all my immediate friends werereformers, I had near neighbors, a new home with all the modernconveniences, and well-trained servants. Here our residence was on theoutskirts of the town, roads very often muddy and no sidewalks most ofthe way, Mr. Stanton was frequently from home, I had poor servants, andan increasing number of children. To keep a house and grounds in goodorder, purchase every article for daily use, keep the wardrobes of halfa dozen human beings in proper trim, take the children to dentists, shoemakers, and different schools, or find teachers at home, altogethermade sufficient work to keep one brain busy, as well as all the hands Icould impress into the service. Then, too, the novelty of housekeepinghad passed away, and much that was once attractive in domestic life wasnow irksome. I had so many cares that the company I needed forintellectual stimulus was a trial rather than a pleasure. 

There was quite an Irish settlement at a short distance, and continualcomplaints were coming to me that my boys threw stones at their pigs, cows, and the roofs of their houses. This involved constant diplomaticrelations in the settlement of various difficulties, in which I was sosuccessful that, at length, they constituted me a kind of umpire in alltheir own quarrels. If a drunken husband was pounding his wife, thechildren would run for me. Hastening to the scene of action, I wouldtake Patrick by the collar, and, much to his surprise and shame, makehim sit down and promise to behave himself. I never had one of themoffer the least resistance, and in time they all came to regard me asone having authority. I strengthened my influence by cultivating goodfeeling. I lent the men papers to read, and invited their children intoour grounds; giving them fruit, of which we had abundance, and mychildren's old clothes, books, and toys. I was their physician, also--with my box of homeopathic medicines I took charge of the men, women, and children in sickness. Thus the most amicable relations wereestablished, and, in any emergency, these poor neighbors were goodfriends and always ready to serve me. 

But I found police duty rather irksome, especially when called out darknights to prevent drunken fathers from disturbing their sleepingchildren, or to minister to poor mothers in the pangs of maternity. Alas! alas! who can measure the mountains of sorrow and sufferingendured in unwelcome motherhood in the abodes of ignorance, poverty, and vice, where terror-stricken women and children are the victims ofstrong men frenzied with passion and intoxicating drink?

Up to this time life had glided by with comparative ease, but now thereal struggle was upon me. My duties were too numerous and varied, andnone sufficiently exhilarating or intellectual to bring into play myhigher faculties. I suffered with mental hunger, which, like an emptystomach, is very depressing. I had books, but no stimulatingcompanionship. To add to my general dissatisfaction at the change fromBoston, I found that Seneca Falls was a malarial region, and in due timeall the children were attacked with chills and fever which, underhomeopathic treatment in those days, lasted three months. The servantswere afflicted in the same way. Cleanliness, order, the love of thebeautiful and artistic, all faded away in the struggle to accomplishwhat was absolutely necessary from hour to hour. Now I understood, as Inever had before, how women could sit down and rest in the midst ofgeneral disorder. Housekeeping, under such conditions, was impossible, so I packed our clothes, locked up the house, and went to that harbor ofsafety, home, as I did ever after in stress of weather. 

I now fully understood the practical difficulties most women had tocontend with in the isolated household, and the impossibility of woman'sbest development if in contact, the chief part of her life, withservants and children. Fourier's phalansterie community life andco-operative households had a new significance for me. Emerson says, "Ahealthy discontent is the first step to progress. " The generaldiscontent I felt with woman's portion as wife, mother, housekeeper, physician, and spiritual guide, the chaotic conditions into whicheverything fell without her constant supervision, and the wearied, anxious look of the majority of women impressed me with a strong feelingthat some active measures should be taken to remedy the wrongs ofsociety in general, and of women in particular. My experience at theWorld's Anti-slavery Convention, all I had read of the legal status ofwomen, and the oppression I saw everywhere, together swept across mysoul, intensified now by many personal experiences. It seemed as if allthe elements had conspired to impel me to some onward step. I could notsee what to do or where to begin--my only thought was a public meetingfor protest and discussion. 

In this tempest-tossed condition of mind I received an invitation tospend the day with Lucretia Mott, at Richard Hunt's, in Waterloo. ThereI met several members of different families of Friends, earnest, thoughtful women. I poured out, that day, the torrent of mylong-accumulating discontent, with such vehemence and indignation that Istirred myself, as well as the rest of the party, to do and dareanything. My discontent, according to Emerson, must have been healthy, for it moved us all to prompt action, and we decided, then and there, tocall a "Woman's Rights Convention. " We wrote the call that evening andpublished it in the _Seneca County Courier_ the next day, the 14th ofJuly, 1848, giving only five days' notice, as the convention was to beheld on the 19th and 20th. The call was inserted without signatures, --infact it was a mere announcement of a meeting, --but the chief movers andmanagers were Lucretia Mott, Mary Ann McClintock, Jane Hunt, Martha C. Wright, and myself. The convention, which was held two days in theMethodist Church, was in every way a grand success. The house wascrowded at every session, the speaking good, and a religious earnestnessdignified all the proceedings. 

These were the hasty initiative steps of "the most momentous reform thathad yet been launched on the world--the first organized protest againstthe injustice which had brooded for ages over the character and destinyof one-half the race. " No words could express our astonishment onfinding, a few days afterward, that what seemed to us so timely, sorational, and so sacred, should be a subject for sarcasm and ridicule tothe entire press of the nation. With our Declaration of Rights andResolutions for a text, it seemed as if every man who could wield a penprepared a homily on "woman's sphere. " All the journals from Maine toTexas seemed to strive with each other to see which could make ourmovement appear the most ridiculous. The anti-slavery papers stood by usmanfully and so did Frederick Douglass, both in the convention and inhis paper, _The North Star_, but so pronounced was the popular voiceagainst us, in the parlor, press, and pulpit, that most of the ladieswho had attended the convention and signed the declaration, one by one, withdrew their names and influence and joined our persecutors. Ourfriends gave us the cold shoulder and felt themselves disgraced by thewhole proceeding. 

If I had had the slightest premonition of all that was to follow thatconvention, I fear I should not have had the courage to risk it, and Imust confess that it was with fear and trembling that I consented toattend another, one month afterward, in Rochester. Fortunately, thefirst one seemed to have drawn all the fire, and of the second butlittle was said. But we had set the ball in motion, and now, in quicksuccession, conventions were held in Ohio, Indiana, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and in the City of New York, and have been kept up nearlyevery year since. 

The most noteworthy of the early conventions were those held inMassachusetts, in which such men as Garrison, Phillips, Channing, Parker, and Emerson took part. It was one of these that first attractedthe attention of Mrs. John Stuart Mill, and drew from her pen that ablearticle on "The Enfranchisement of Woman, " in the _Westminster Review_of October, 1852. 

The same year of the convention, the Married Woman's Property Bill, which had given rise to some discussion on woman's rights in New York, had passed the legislature. This encouraged action on the part of women, as the reflection naturally arose that, if the men who make the lawswere ready for some onward step, surely the women themselves shouldexpress some interest in the legislation. Ernestine L. Rose, PaulinaWright (Davis), and I had spoken before committees of the legislatureyears before, demanding equal property rights for women. We hadcirculated petitions for the Married Woman's Property Bill for manyyears, and so also had the leaders of the Dutch aristocracy, who desiredto see their life-long accumulations descend to their daughters andgrandchildren rather than pass into the hands of dissipated, thriftlesssons-in-law. Judge Hertell, Judge Fine, and Mr. Geddes of Syracuseprepared and championed the several bills, at different times, beforethe legislature. Hence the demands made in the convention were notentirely new to the reading and thinking public of New York--the firstState to take any action on the question. As New York was the firstState to put the word "male" in her constitution in 1778, it was fittingthat she should be first in more liberal legislation. The effect of theconvention on my own mind was most salutary. The discussions had clearedmy ideas as to the primal steps to be taken for woman's enfranchisement, and the opportunity of expressing myself fully and freely on a subject Ifelt so deeply about was a great relief. I think all women who attendedthe convention felt better for the statement of their wrongs, believingthat the first step had been taken to right them. 

Soon after this I was invited to speak at several points in theneighborhood. One night, in the Quaker Meeting House at Farmington, Iinvited, as usual, discussion and questions when I had finished. We allwaited in silence for a long time; at length a middle-aged man, with abroad-brimmed hat, arose and responded in a sing-song tone: "All I haveto say is, if a hen can crow, let her crow, " emphasizing "crow" with anupward inflection on several notes of the gamut. The meeting adjournedwith mingled feelings of surprise and merriment. I confess that I feltsomewhat chagrined in having what I considered my unanswerable argumentsso summarily disposed of, and the serious impression I had made on theaudience so speedily dissipated. The good man intended no disrespect, ashe told me afterward. He simply put the whole argument in a nutshell:"Let a woman do whatever she can. "

With these new duties and interests, and a broader outlook on humanlife, my petty domestic annoyances gradually took a subordinate place. Now I began to write articles for the press, letters to conventions heldin other States, and private letters to friends, to arouse them tothought on this question. 

The pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Mr. Bogue, preached severalsermons on Woman's Sphere, criticising the action of the conventions inSeneca Falls and Rochester. Elizabeth McClintock and I took notes andanswered him in the county papers. Gradually we extended our labors andattacked our opponents in the New York _Tribune_, whose columns wereopen to us in the early days, Mr. Greeley being, at that time, one ofour most faithful champions. 

In answering all the attacks, we were compelled to study canon and civillaw, constitutions, Bibles, science, philosophy, and history, sacred andprofane. Now my mind, as well as my hands, was fully occupied, andinstead of mourning, as I had done, over what I had lost in leavingBoston, I tried in every way to make the most of life in Seneca Falls. Seeing that elaborate refreshments prevented many social gatherings, Ioften gave an evening entertainment without any. I told the youngpeople, whenever they wanted a little dance or a merry time, to make ourhouse their rallying point, and I would light up and give them a glassof water and some cake. In that way we had many pleasant informalgatherings. Then, in imitation of Margaret Fuller's Conversationals, westarted one which lasted several years. We selected a subject each weekon which we all read and thought; each, in turn, preparing an essay tenminutes in length. 

These were held, at different homes, Saturday of each week. On comingtogether we chose a presiding officer for the evening, who called themeeting to order, and introduced the essayist. That finished, he askedeach member, in turn, what he or she had read or thought on the subject, and if any had criticisms to make on the essay. Everyone was expected tocontribute something. Much information was thus gained, and many spicydiscussions followed. All the ladies, as well as the gentlemen, presidedin turn, and so became familiar with parliamentary rules. The eveningended with music, dancing, and a general chat. In this way we read andthought over a wide range of subjects and brought together the bestminds in the community. Many young men and women who did not belong towhat was considered the first circle, --for in every little countryvillage there is always a small clique that constitutes thearistocracy, --had the advantages of a social life otherwise denied them. I think that all who took part in this Conversation Club would testifyto its many good influences. 

I had three quite intimate young friends in the village who spent muchof their spare time with me, and who added much to my happiness: FrancesHoskins, who was principal of the girls' department in the academy, withwhom I discussed politics and religion; Mary Bascom, a good talker onthe topics of the day, and Mary Crowninshield, who played well on thepiano. As I was very fond of music, Mary's coming was always hailed withdelight. Her mother, too, was a dear friend of mine, a woman of rareintelligence, refinement, and conversational talent. She was a Schuyler, and belonged to the Dutch aristocracy in Albany. She died suddenly, after a short illness. I was with her in the last hours and held herhand until the gradually fading spark of life went out. Her son isCaptain A. S. Crowninshield of our Navy. 

My nearest neighbors were a very agreeable, intelligent family of sonsand daughters. But I always felt that the men of that household weregiven to domineering. As the mother was very amiable andself-sacrificing, the daughters found it difficult to rebel. One summer, after general house-cleaning, when fresh paint and paper had made eventhe kitchen look too dainty for the summer invasion of flies, the queensof the household decided to move the sombre cook-stove into a spaciouswoodhouse, where it maintained its dignity one week, in the absence ofthe head of the home. The mother and daughters were delighted with thechange, and wondered why they had not made it before during the summermonths. But their pleasure was shortlived. Father and sons rose earlythe first morning after his return and moved the stove back to its oldplace. When the wife and daughters came down to get their breakfast (forthey did all their own work) they were filled with grief anddisappointment. The breakfast was eaten in silence, the women humbledwith a sense of their helplessness, and the men gratified with a senseof their power. These men would probably all have said "home is woman'ssphere, " though they took the liberty of regulating everything in hersphere. 

[Illustration: MRS. STANTON AND SON, 1854. ]

[Illustration: Susan B. Anthony 1820-Feb. 15, 1858--]

CHAPTER X. 

SUSAN B. ANTHONY. 

The reports of the conventions held in Seneca Falls and Rochester, N. Y. , in 1848, attracted the attention of one destined to take a mostimportant part in the new movement--Susan B. Anthony, who, for hercourage and executive ability, was facetiously called by William HenryChanning, the Napoleon of our struggle. At this time she was teaching inthe academy at Canajoharie, a little village in the beautiful valley ofthe Mohawk. 

"The Woman's Declaration of Independence" issued from those conventionsstartled and amused her, and she laughed heartily at the novelty andpresumption of the demand. But, on returning home to spend her vacation, she was surprised to find that her sober Quaker parents and sister, having attended the Rochester meetings, regarded them as very profitableand interesting, and the demands made as proper and reasonable. She wasalready interested in the anti-slavery and temperance reforms, was anactive member of an organization called "The Daughters of Temperance, "and had spoken a few times in their public meetings. But the new gospelof "Woman's Rights, " found a ready response in her mind, and, from thattime, her best efforts have been given to the enfranchisement of women. 

As, from this time, my friend is closely connected with my narrativeand will frequently appear therein, a sketch of her seems appropriate. 

Lord Bacon has well said: "He that hath wife and children hath givenhostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterpriseseither of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatestmerit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childlessmen; which, both in affection and means, have married and endowed thepublic. "

This bit of Baconian philosophy, as alike applicable to women, was thesubject, not long since, of a conversation with a remarkably giftedEnglishwoman. She was absorbed in many public interests and hadconscientiously resolved never to marry, lest the cares necessarilyinvolved in matrimony should make inroads upon her time and thought, tothe detriment of the public good. "Unless, " said she, "some womendedicate themselves to the public service, society is robbed of neededguardians for the special wants of the weak and unfortunate. Thereshould be, in the secular world, certain orders corresponding in ameasure to the grand sisterhoods of the Catholic Church, to the membersof which, as freely as to men, all offices, civic and ecclesiastical, should be open. " That this ideal will be realized may be inferred fromthe fact that exceptional women have, in all ages, been leaders in greatprojects of charity and reform, and that now many stand waiting only thesanction of their century, ready for wide altruistic labors. 

The world has ever had its vestal virgins, its holy women, mothers ofideas rather than of men; its Marys, as well as its Marthas, who, ratherthan be busy housewives, preferred to sit at the feet of divine wisdom, and ponder the mysteries of the unknown. All hail to Maria Mitchell, Harriet Hosmer, Charlotte Cushman, Alice and Phoebe Gary, Louisa Alcott, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, Frances Willard, and Clara Barton! All honor tothe noble women who have devoted earnest lives to the intellectual andmoral needs of mankind!

Susan B. Anthony was of sturdy New England stock, and it was at the footof Old Greylock, South Adams, Mass. , that she gave forth her firstrebellious cry. There the baby steps were taken, and at the villageschool the first stitches were learned, and the A B C duly mastered. When five winters had passed over Susan's head, there came a time ofgreat domestic commotion, and, in her small way, the child seized theidea that permanence is not the rule of life. The family moved toBattenville, N. Y. , where Mr. Anthony became one of the wealthiest men inWashington County. Susan can still recall the stately coldness of thegreat house--how large the bare rooms, with their yellow-painted floors, seemed, in contrast with her own diminutiveness, and the outlook of theschoolroom where for so many years, with her brothers and sisters, shepursued her studies under private tutors. 

Mr. Anthony was a stern Hicksite Quaker. In Susan's early life heobjected on principle to all forms of frivolous amusement, such asmusic, dancing, or novel reading, while games and even pictures wereregarded as meaningless luxuries. Such puritanical convictions mighthave easily degenerated into mere cant; but underlying all was a broadand firm basis of wholesome respect for individual freedom and a braveadherence to truth. He was a man of good business capacity, and athorough manager of his wide and lucrative interests. He saw thatcompensation and not chance ruled in the commercial world, and hebelieved in the same just, though often severe, law in the sphere ofmorals. Such a man was not apt to walk humbly in the path mapped out byhis religious sect. He early offended by choosing a Baptist for a wife. For this first offense he was "disowned, " and, according to Quakerusage, could only be received into fellowship again by declaring himself"sorry" for his crime in full meeting. He was full of devoutthankfulness for the good woman by his side, and destined to be thankfulto the very end for this companion, so calm, so just, so far-seeing. Herose in meeting, and said he was "sorry" that the rules of the societywere such that, in marrying the woman he loved, he had committedoffense! He admitted that he was "sorry" for something, so was takenback into the body of the faithful! But his faith had begun to weaken inmany minor points of discipline. His coat soon became a cause of offenseand called forth another reproof from those buttoned up in conforminggarments. The petty forms of Quakerism began to lose their weight withhim altogether, and he was finally disowned for allowing the villageyouth to be taught dancing in an upper room of his dwelling. He wasapplied to for this favor on the ground that young men were under greattemptation to drink if the lessons were given in the hotel; and, being arigid temperance man, he readily consented, though his principles, inregard to dancing, would not allow his own sons and daughters to join inthe amusement. But the society could accept no such discrimination inwhat it deemed sin, nor such compromise with worldly frivolity, and soMr. Anthony was seen no more in meeting. But, in later years, inRochester he was an attentive listener to Rev. William Henry Channing. 

The effect of all this on Susan is the question of interest. No doubtshe early weighed the comparative moral effects of coats cut with capesand those cut without, of purely Quaker conjugal love and thatdeteriorated with Baptist affection. Susan had an earnest soul and aconscience tending to morbidity; but a strong, well-balanced body andsimple family life soothed her too active moral nature and gave theworld, instead of a religious fanatic, a sincere, concentrated worker. Every household art was taught her by her mother, and so great was herability that the duty demanding especial care was always given into herhands. But ever, amid school and household tasks, her day-dream wasthat, in time, she might be a "high-seat" Quaker. Each Sunday, up to thetime of the third disobedience, Mr. Anthony went to the Quaker meetinghouse, some thirteen miles from home, his wife and children usuallyaccompanying him, though, as non-members, they were rigidly excludedfrom all business discussions. Exclusion was very pleasant in the brightdays of summer; but, on one occasion in December, decidedly unpleasantfor the seven-year-old Susan. When the blinds were drawn, at the closeof the religious meeting, and non-members retired, Susan sat still. Soonshe saw a thin old lady with blue goggles come down from the "highseat. " Approaching her, the Quakeress said softly, "Thee is not amember--thee must go out. " "No; my mother told me not to go out in thecold, " was the child's firm response. "Yes, but thee must go out--theeis not a member. " "But my father is a member. " "Thee is not a member, "and Susan felt as if the spirit was moving her and soon found herself inouter coldness. Fingers and toes becoming numb, and a bright fire in acottage over the way beckoning warmly to her, the exile from the chapelresolved to seek secular shelter. But alas! she was confronted by a hugedog, and just escaped with whole skin though capeless jacket. We may besure there was much talk, that night, at the home fireside, and the goodBaptist wife declared that no child of hers should attend meeting againtill made a member. Thereafter, by request of her father, Susan became amember of the Quaker church. 

Later, definite convictions took root in Miss Anthony's heart. Hers is, indeed, a sincerely religious nature. To be a simple, earnest Quaker wasthe aspiration of her girlhood; but she shrank from adopting the formallanguage and plain dress. Dark hours of conflict were spent over allthis, and she interpreted her disinclination as evidence ofunworthiness. Poor little Susan! As we look back with the knowledge ofour later life, we translate the heart-burnings as unconscious protestsagainst labeling your free soul, against testing your reasoningconviction of to-morrow by any shibboleth of to-day's belief. We hailthis child-intuition as a prophecy of the uncompromising truthfulness ofthe mature woman. Susan Anthony was taught simply that she must enterinto the holy of holies of her own self, meet herself, and be true tothe revelation. She first found words to express her convictions inlistening to Rev. William Henry Channing, whose teaching had a lastingspiritual influence upon her. To-day Miss Anthony is an agnostic. As tothe nature of the Godhead and of the life beyond her horizon she doesnot profess to know anything. Every energy of her soul is centered uponthe needs of this world. To her, work is worship. She has not stoodaside, shivering in the cold shadows of uncertainty, but has moved onwith the whirling world, has done the good given her to do, and thus, indarkest hours, has been sustained by an unfaltering faith in the finalperfection of all things. Her belief is not orthodox, but it isreligious. In ancient Greece she would have been a Stoic; in the era ofthe Reformation, a Calvinist; in King Charles' time, a Puritan; but inthis nineteenth century, by the very laws of her being, she is aReformer. 

For the arduous work that awaited Miss Anthony her years of youngwomanhood had given preparation. Her father, though a man of wealth, made it a matter of conscience to train his girls, as well as his boys, to self-support. Accordingly Susan chose the profession of teacher, andmade her first essay during a summer vacation in a school her father hadestablished for the children of his employés. Her success was so marked, not only in imparting knowledge, but also as a disciplinarian, that shefollowed this career steadily for fifteen years, with the exception ofsome months given in Philadelphia to her own training. Of the manyschool rebellions which she overcame, one rises before me, prominent inits ludicrous aspect. This was in the district school at Center Falls, in the year 1839. Bad reports were current there of male teachers drivenout by a certain strapping lad. Rumor next told of a Quaker maidencoming to teach--a Quaker maiden of peace principles. The anticipatedday and Susan arrived. She looked very meek to the barbarian of fifteen, so he soon began his antics. He was called to the platform, told to layaside his jacket, and, thereupon, with much astonishment received fromthe mild Quaker maiden, with a birch rod applied calmly but withprecision, an exposition of the _argumentum ad hominem_ based on the _aposteriori_ method of reasoning. Thus Susan departed from herprinciples, but not from the school. 

But, before long, conflicts in the outside world disturbed our youngteacher. The multiplication table and spelling book no longer enchainedher thoughts; larger questions began to fill her mind. About the year1850 Susan B. Anthony hid her ferule away. Temperance, anti-slavery, woman suffrage, --three pregnant questions, --presented themselves, demanding her consideration. Higher, ever higher, rose their appeals, until she resolved to dedicate her energy and thought to the burningneeds of the hour. Owing to early experience of the disabilities of hersex, the first demand for equal rights for women found echo in Susan'sheart. And, though she was in the beginning startled to hear that womenhad actually met in convention, and by speeches and resolutions haddeclared themselves man's peer in political rights, and had urgedradical changes in State constitutions and the whole system of Americanjurisprudence; yet the most casual review convinced her that theseclaims were but the logical outgrowth of the fundamental theories of ourrepublic. 

At this stage of her development I met my future friend and coadjutorfor the first time. How well I remember the day! George Thompson andWilliam Lloyd Garrison having announced an anti-slavery meeting inSeneca Falls, Miss Anthony came to attend it. These gentlemen were myguests. Walking home, after the adjournment, we met Mrs. Bloomer andMiss Anthony on the corner of the street, waiting to greet us. There shestood, with her good, earnest face and genial smile, dressed in graydelaine, hat and all the same color, relieved with pale blue ribbons, the perfection of neatness and sobriety. I liked her thoroughly, and whyI did not at once invite her home with me to dinner, I do not know. Sheaccuses me of that neglect, and has never forgiven me, as she wished tosee and hear all she could of our noble friends. I suppose my mind wasfull of what I had heard, or my coming dinner, or the probable behaviorof three mischievous boys who had been busily exploring the premiseswhile I was at the meeting. 

That I had abundant cause for anxiety in regard to the philosophicalexperiments these young savages might try the reader will admit, wheninformed of some of their performances. Henry imagined himself possessedof rare powers of invention (an ancestral weakness for generations), andso made a life preserver of corks, and tested its virtues on hisbrother, who was about eighteen months old. Accompanied by a troop ofexpectant boys, the baby was drawn in his carriage to the banks of theSeneca, stripped, the string of corks tied under his arms, and setafloat in the river, the philosopher and his satellites, in a rowboat, watching the experiment. The baby, accustomed to a morning bath in alarge tub, splashed about joyfully, keeping his head above water. He wasas blue as indigo and as cold as a frog when rescued by his anxiousmother. The next day the same victimized infant was seen, by a passingfriend, seated on the chimney, on the highest peak of the house. Withoutalarming anyone, the friend hurried up to the housetop and rescued thechild. Another time the three elder brothers entered into a conspiracy, and locked up the fourth, Theodore, in the smoke-house. Fortunately, hesounded the alarm loud and clear, and was set free in safety, whereuponthe three were imprisoned in a garret with two barred windows. Theysummarily kicked out the bars, and, sliding down on the lightning rod, betook themselves to the barn for liberty. The youngest boy, Gerrit, then only five years old, skinned his hands in the descent. This is afair sample of the quiet happiness I enjoyed in the first years ofmotherhood. 

It was 'mid such exhilarating scenes that Miss Anthony and I wroteaddresses for temperance, anti-slavery, educational, and woman's rightsconventions. Here we forged resolutions, protests, appeals, petitions, agricultural reports, and constitutional arguments; for we made it amatter of conscience to accept every invitation to speak on everyquestion, in order to maintain woman's right to do so. To this end wetook turns on the domestic watchtowers, directing amusements, settlingdisputes, protecting the weak against the strong, and trying to secureequal rights to all in the home as well as the nation. I can recall manya stern encounter between my friend and the young experimenter. It ispleasant to remember that he never seriously injured any of his victims, and only once came near fatally shooting himself with a pistol. The ballwent through his hand; happily a brass button prevented it frompenetrating his heart. 

It is often said, by those who know Miss Anthony best, that she has beenmy good angel, always pushing and goading me to work, and that but forher pertinacity I should never have accomplished the little I have. Onthe other hand it has been said that I forged the thunderbolts and shefired them. Perhaps all this is, in a measure, true. With the cares of alarge family I might, in time, like too many women, have become whollyabsorbed in a narrow family selfishness, had not my friend beencontinually exploring new fields for missionary labors. Her descriptionof a body of men on any platform, complacently deciding questions inwhich woman had an equal interest, without an equal voice, readilyroused me to a determination to throw a firebrand into the midst oftheir assembly. 

Thus, whenever I saw that stately Quaker girl coming across my lawn, Iknew that some happy convocation of the sons of Adam was to be set bythe ears, by one of our appeals or resolutions. The little portmanteau, stuffed with facts, was opened, and there we had what the Rev. JohnSmith and Hon. Richard Roe had said: false interpretations of Bibletexts, the statistics of women robbed of their property, shut out ofsome college, half paid for their work, the reports of some disgracefultrial; injustice enough to turn any woman's thoughts from stockings andpuddings. Then we would get out our pens and write articles for papers, or a petition to the legislature; indite letters to the faithful, hereand there; stir up the women in Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Massachusetts;call on _The Lily, The Una, The Liberator, The Standard_ to remember ourwrongs as well as those of the slave. We never met without issuing apronunciamento on some question. In thought and sympathy we were one, and in the division of labor we exactly complemented each other. Inwriting we did better work than either could alone. While she is slowand analytical in composition, I am rapid and synthetic. I am the betterwriter, she the better critic. She supplied the facts and statistics, Ithe philosophy and rhetoric, and, together, we have made arguments thathave stood unshaken through the storms of long years; arguments that noone has answered. Our speeches may be considered the united product ofour two brains. 

So entirely one are we that, in all our associations, ever side by sideon the same platform, not one feeling of envy or jealousy has evershadowed our lives. We have indulged freely in criticism of each otherwhen alone, and hotly contended whenever we have differed, but in ourfriendship of years there has never been the break of one hour. To theworld we always seem to agree and uniformly reflect each other. Likehusband and wife, each has the feeling that we must have no differencesin public. Thus united, at an early day we began to survey the state andnation, the future field of our labors. We read, with critical eyes, theproceedings of Congress and legislatures, of general assemblies andsynods, of conferences and conventions, and discovered that, in allalike, the existence of woman was entirely ignored. 

Night after night, by an old-fashioned fireplace, we plotted and plannedthe coming agitation; how, when, and where each entering wedge could bedriven, by which women might be recognized and their rights secured. Speedily the State was aflame with disturbances in temperance andteachers' conventions, and the press heralded the news far and near thatwomen delegates had suddenly appeared, demanding admission in men'sconventions; that their rights had been hotly contested session aftersession, by liberal men on the one side, the clergy and learnedprofessors on the other; an overwhelming majority rejecting the womenwith terrible anathemas and denunciations. Such battles were fought overand over in the chief cities of many of the Northern States, until thebigotry of men in all the reforms and professions was thoroughlyexposed. Every right achieved, to enter a college, to study aprofession, to labor in some new industry, or to advocate a reformmeasure was contended for inch by inch. 

Many of those enjoying all these blessings now complacently say, "Ifthese pioneers in reform had only pressed their measures morejudiciously, in a more ladylike manner, in more choice language, with amore deferential attitude, the gentlemen could not have behaved sorudely. " I give, in these pages, enough of the characteristics of thesewomen, of the sentiments they expressed, of their education, ancestry, and position to show that no power could have met the prejudice andbigotry of that period more successfully than they did who so bravelyand persistently fought and conquered them. 

Miss Anthony first carried her flag of rebellion into the Stateconventions of teachers, and there fought, almost single-handed, thebattle for equality. At the close of the first decade she had compelledconservatism to yield its ground so far as to permit women toparticipate in all debates, deliver essays, vote, and hold honoredpositions as officers. She labored as sincerely in the temperancemovement, until convinced that woman's moral power amounted to little asa civil agent, until backed by ballot and coined into State law. Shestill never loses an occasion to defend co-education and prohibition, and solves every difficulty with the refrain, "woman suffrage, " aspersistent as the "never more" of Poe's raven. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SUSAN B. ANTHONY--_Continued_. 

It was in 1852 that anti-slavery, through the eloquent lips of such menas George Thompson, Phillips, and Garrison, first proclaimed to MissAnthony its pressing financial necessities. To their inspired words shegave answer, four years afterward, by becoming a regularly employedagent in the Anti-slavery Society. For her espoused cause she has alwaysmade boldest demands. In the abolition meetings she used to tell eachclass why it should support the movement financially; invariably callingupon Democrats to give liberally, as the success of the cause wouldenable them to cease bowing the knee to the slave power. 

There is scarce a town, however small, from New York to San Francisco, that has not heard her ringing voice. Who can number the speeches shehas made on lyceum platforms, in churches, schoolhouses, halls, barns, and in the open air, with a lumber wagon or a cart for her rostrum? Whocan describe the varied audiences and social circles she has cheered andinterested? Now we see her on the far-off prairies, entertaining, withsterling common sense, large gatherings of men, women, and children, seated on rough boards in some unfinished building; again, holdingpublic debates in some town with half-fledged editors and clergymen;next, sailing up the Columbia River and, in hot haste to meet someappointment, jolting over the rough mountains of Oregon and Washington;and then, before legislative assemblies, constitutional conventions, andcongressional committees, discussing with senators and judges the letterand spirit of constitutional law. 

Miss Anthony's style of speaking is rapid and vehement. In debate she isready and keen, and she is always equal to an emergency. Many times intraveling with her through the West, especially on our first trip toKansas and California, we were suddenly called upon to speak to thewomen assembled at the stations. Filled with consternation, I usuallyappealed to her to go first; and, without a moment's hesitation, shecould always fill five minutes with some appropriate words and inspireme with thoughts and courage to follow. The climax of these occasionswas reached in an institution for the deaf and dumb in Michigan. I hadjust said to my friend, "There is one comfort in visiting this place; weshall not be asked to speak, " when the superintendent, approaching us, said, "Ladies, the pupils are assembled in the chapel, ready to hearyou. I promised to invite you to speak to them as soon as I heard youwere in town. " The possibility of addressing such an audience was asnovel to Miss Anthony as to me; yet she promptly walked down the aisleto the platform, as if to perform an ordinary duty, while I, halfdistracted with anxiety, wondering by what process I was to be placed incommunication with the deaf and dumb, reluctantly followed. But themanner was simple enough, when illustrated. The superintendent, standingby our side, repeated, in the sign language, what was said as fast asuttered; and by laughter, tears, and applause, the pupils showed thatthey fully appreciated the pathos, humor, and argument. 

One night, crossing the Mississippi at McGregor, Iowa, we were iceboundin the middle of the river. The boat was crowded with people, hungry, tired, and cross with the delay. Some gentlemen, with whom we had beentalking on the cars, started the cry, "Speech on woman suffrage!"Accordingly, in the middle of the Mississippi River, at midnight, wepresented our claims to political representation, and debated thequestion of universal suffrage until we landed. Our voyagers were quitethankful that we had shortened the many hours, and we equally so athaving made several converts and held a convention on the very bosom ofthe great "Mother of Waters. " Only once in all these wanderings was MissAnthony taken by surprise, and that was on being asked to speak to theinmates of an insane asylum. "Bless me!" said she, "it is as much as Ican do to talk to the sane! What could I say to an audience oflunatics?" Her companion, Virginia L. Minor of St. Louis, replied: "Thisis a golden moment for you, the first opportunity you have ever had, according to the constitutions, to talk to your 'peers, ' for is not theright of suffrage denied to 'idiots, criminals, lunatics, and women'?"

Much curiosity has been expressed as to the love-life of Miss Anthony;but, if she has enjoyed or suffered any of the usual triumphs ordisappointments of her sex, she has not yet vouchsafed this informationto her biographers. While few women have had more sincere and lastingfriendships, or a more extensive correspondence with a large circle ofnoble men, yet I doubt if one of them can boast of having received fromher any exceptional attention. She has often playfully said, whenquestioned on this point, that she could not consent that the man sheloved, described in the Constitution as a white male, native born, American citizen, possessed of the right of self-government, eligible tothe office of President of the great Republic, should unite hisdestinies in marriage with a political slave and pariah. "No, no; when Iam crowned with all the rights, privileges, and immunities of a citizen, I may give some consideration to this social institution; but until thenI must concentrate all my energies on the enfranchisement of my ownsex. " Miss Anthony's love-life, like her religion, has manifested itselfin steadfast, earnest labors for men in general. She has been a watchfuland affectionate daughter, sister, friend, and those who have felt thepulsations of her great heart know how warmly it beats for all. 

As the custom has long been observed, among married women, ofcelebrating the anniversaries of their wedding-day, quite properly theinitiative has been taken, in late years, of doing honor to the greatevents in the lives of single women. Being united in closest bonds toher profession, Dr. Harriet K. Hunt of Boston celebrated hertwenty-fifth year of faithful services as a physician by giving to herfriends and patrons a large reception, which she called her silverwedding. From a feeling of the sacredness of her life work, the admirersof Susan B. Anthony have been moved to mark, by reception andconvention, her rapid-flowing years and the passing decades of thesuffrage movement. To the most brilliant occasion of this kind, theinvitation cards were as follows:

 The ladies of the Woman's Bureau invite you to a reception on Tuesday evening, February 15th, to celebrate the fiftieth birthday of Susan B. Anthony, when her friends will have an opportunity to show their appreciation of her long services in behalf of woman's emancipation. 

 No. 49 East 23d St. , New York, February 10, 1870. 

 Elizabeth B. Phelps, Anna B. Darling, Charlotte Beebe Wilbour. 

In response to the invitation, the parlors of the bureau were crowdedwith friends to congratulate Miss Anthony on the happy event, manybringing valuable gifts as an expression of their gratitude. Among otherpresents were a handsome gold watch and checks to the amount of athousand dollars. The guests were entertained with music, recitations, the reading of many piquant letters of regret from distinguished people, and witty rhymes written for the occasion by the Cary sisters. MissAnthony received her guests with her usual straightforward simplicity, and in a few earnest words expressed her thanks for the presents andpraises showered upon her. The comments of the leading journals, nextday, were highly complimentary, and as genial as amusing. All dwelt onthe fact that, at last, a woman had arisen brave enough to assert herright to grow old and openly declare that half a century had rolled overher head. 

Of carefully prepared written speeches Miss Anthony has made few; butthese, by the high praise they called forth, prove that she can--inspite of her own declaration to the contrary--put her sterling thoughtson paper concisely and effectively. After her exhaustive plea, in 1880, for a Sixteenth Amendment before the Judiciary Committee of the Senate, Senator Edmunds accosted her, as she was leaving the Capitol, and saidhe neglected to tell her, in the committee room, that she had made anargument, no matter what his personal feelings were as to theconclusions reached, which was unanswerable--an argument, unlike theusual platform oratory given at hearings, suited to a committee of mentrained to the law. 

It was in 1876 that Miss Anthony gave her much criticised lecture on"Social Purity" in Boston. As to the result she felt very anxious; forthe intelligence of New England composed her audience, and it did notstill her heart-beats to see, sitting just in front of the platform, herrevered friend, William Lloyd Garrison. But surely every fear vanishedwhen she felt the grand old abolitionist's hand warmly pressing hers, and heard him say that to listen to no one else would he have hadcourage to leave his sick room, and that he felt fully repaid by hergrand speech, which neither in matter nor manner would he have changedin the smallest particular. But into Miss Anthony's privatecorrespondence one must look for examples of her most effective writing. Verb or substantive is often wanting, but you can always catch thethought, and will ever find it clear and suggestive. It is a strikinglystrange dialect, but one that touches, at times, the deepest chords ofpathos and humor, and, when stirred by some great event, is highlyeloquent. 

From being the most ridiculed and mercilessly persecuted woman, MissAnthony has become the most honored and respected in the nation. Witnessthe praises of press and people, and the enthusiastic ovations shereceived on her departure for Europe in 1883. Never were warmerexpressions of regret for an absence, nor more sincere prayers for aspeedy return, accorded to any American on leaving his native shores. This slow awaking to the character of her services shows the abidingsense of justice in the human soul. Having spent the winter of 1882-83in Washington, trying to press to a vote the bill for a SixteenthAmendment before Congress, and the autumn in a vigorous campaign throughNebraska, where a constitutional amendment to enfranchise women had beensubmitted to the people, she felt the imperative need of an entirechange in the current of her thoughts. Accordingly, after one of themost successful conventions ever held at the national capital, and amost flattering ovation in the spacious parlors of the Riggs House, anda large reception in Philadelphia, she sailed for Europe. 

Fortunate in being perfectly well during the entire voyage, our travelerreceived perpetual enjoyment in watching the ever varying sea and sky. To the captain's merry challenge to find anything so grand as the ocean, she replied, "Yes, these mighty forces in nature do indeed fill me withawe; but this vessel, with deep-buried fires, powerful machinery, spacious decks, and tapering masts, walking the waves like a thing oflife, and all the work of man, impresses one still more deeply. Lo! inman's divine creative power is fulfilled the prophecy, 'Ye shall be asGods!'"

In all her journeyings through Germany, Italy, and France, Miss Anthonywas never the mere sight-seer, but always the humanitarian and reformerin traveler's guise. Few of the great masterpieces of art gave her realenjoyment. The keen appreciation of the beauties of sculpture, painting, and architecture, which one would have expected to find in so deep areligious nature, was wanting, warped, no doubt, by her early Quakertraining. That her travels gave her more pain than pleasure was, perhaps, not so much that she had no appreciation of aesthetic beauty, but that she quickly grasped the infinitude of human misery; not becauseher soul did not feel the heights to which art had risen, but that itvibrated in every fiber to the depths to which mankind had fallen. Wandering through a gorgeous palace one day, she exclaimed, "What do youfind to admire here? If it were a school of five hundred children beingeducated into the right of self-government I could admire it, too; butstanding for one man's pleasure, I say no!" In the quarters of one ofthe devotees, at the old monastery of the Certosa, at Florence, therelies, on a small table, an open book, in which visitors register. On theoccasion of Miss Anthony's visit the pen and ink proved so unpromisingthat her entire party declined this opportunity to make themselvesfamous, but she made the rebellious pen inscribe, "Perfect equality forwomen, civil, political, religious. Susan B. Anthony, U. S. A. " Friends, who visited the monastery next day, reported that lines had been drawnthrough this heretical sentiment. 

During her visit at the home of Mr. And Mrs. Sargent, in Berlin, MissAnthony quite innocently posted her letters in the official envelopes ofour Suffrage Association, which bore the usual mottoes, "No justgovernment can be formed without the consent of the governed, " etc. In afew days an official brought back a large package, saying, "Suchsentiments are not allowed to pass through the post office. " Probablynothing saved her from arrest as a socialist, under the tyrannicalpolice regulations, but the fact that she was the guest of the MinisterPlenipotentiary of the United States. 

My son Theodore wrote of Miss Anthony's visit in Paris: "I had neverbefore seen her in the role of tourist. She seemed interested only inhistorical monuments, and in the men and questions of the hour. Thegalleries of the Louvre had little attraction for her, but she gazedwith deep pleasure at Napoleon's tomb, Notre Dame, and the ruins of theTuileries. She was always ready to listen to discussions on thepolitical problems before the French people, the prospects of theRepublic, the divorce agitation, and the education of women. 'I hadrather see Jules Ferry than all the pictures of the Louvre, Luxembourg, and Salon, ' she remarked at table. A day or two later she saw Ferry atLaboulaye's funeral. The three things which made the deepest impressionon Miss Anthony, during her stay at Paris, were probably the intermentof Laboulaye (the friend of the United States and of the womanmovement); the touching anniversary demonstration of the Communists, atthe Cemetery of Père La Chaise, on the very spot where the lastdefenders of the Commune of 1871 were ruthlessly shot and buried in acommon grave; and a woman's rights meeting, held in a little hall in theRue de Rivoli, at which the brave, far-seeing Mlle. Hubertine Auchet wasthe leading spirit. "

While on the Continent Miss Anthony experienced the unfortunatesensation of being deaf and dumb; to speak and not to be understood, tohear and not to comprehend, were to her bitter realities. We can imagineto what desperation she was brought when her Quaker prudishness couldhail an emphatic oath in English from a French official with theexclamation, "Well, it sounds good to hear someone even swear in oldAnglo-Saxon!" After two months of enforced silence, she was buoyant inreaching the British Islands once more, where she could enjoy publicspeaking and general conversation. Here she was the recipient of manygenerous social attentions, and, on May 25, a large public meeting ofrepresentative people, presided over by Jacob Bright, was called, in ourhonor, by the National Association of Great Britain. She spoke on theeducational and political status of women in America, I of theirreligious and social position. 

Before closing my friend's biography I shall trace two golden threads inthis closely woven life of incident. One of the greatest servicesrendered by Miss Anthony to the suffrage cause was in casting a vote inthe Presidential election of 1872, in order to test the rights of womenunder the Fourteenth Amendment. For this offense the brave woman wasarrested, on Thanksgiving Day, the national holiday handed down to us byPilgrim Fathers escaped from England's persecutions. She asked for awrit of habeas corpus. The writ being flatly refused, in January, 1873, her counsel gave bonds. The daring defendant finding, when too late, that this not only kept her out of jail, but her case out of the SupremeCourt of the United States, regretfully determined to fight on, and gainthe uttermost by a decision in the United States Circuit Court. Hertrial was set down for the Rochester term in May. Quickly she canvassedthe whole county, laying before every probable juror the strength of hercase. When the time for the trial arrived, the District Attorney, fearing the result, if the decision were left to a jury drawn from MissAnthony's enlightened county, transferred the trial to the OntarioCounty term, in June, 1873. 

It was now necessary to instruct the citizens of another county. In thistask Miss Anthony received valuable assistance from Matilda Joslyn Gage;and, to meet all this new expense, financial aid was generously given, unsolicited, by Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Gerrit Smith, and othersympathizers. But in vain was every effort; in vain the appeal of MissAnthony to her jurors; in vain the moral influence of the leadingrepresentatives of the bar of Central New York filling the courtroom, for Judge Hunt, without precedent to sustain him, declaring it a case oflaw and not of fact, refused to give the case to the jury, reserving tohimself final decision. Was it not an historic scene which was enactedthere in that little courthouse in Canandaigua? All the inconsistencieswere embodied in that Judge, punctilious in manner, scrupulous inattire, conscientious in trivialities, and obtuse on great principles, fitly described by Charles O'Conor--"A very ladylike Judge. " Behold himsitting there, balancing all the niceties of law and equity in his OldWorld scales, and at last saying, "The prisoner will stand up. "Whereupon the accused arose. "The sentence of the court is that you paya fine of one hundred dollars and the costs of the prosecution. " Thenthe unruly defendant answers: "May it please your Honor, I shall neverpay a dollar of your unjust penalty, " and more to the same effect, allof which she has lived up to. The "ladylike" Judge had gained someinsight into the determination of the prisoner; so, not wishing toincarcerate her to all eternity, he added gently: "Madam, the courtwill not order you committed until the fine is paid. "

It was on the 17th of June that the verdict was given. On that very day, a little less than a century before, the brave militia was driven backat Bunker Hill--back, back, almost wiped out; yet truth was in theirranks, and justice, too. But how ended that rebellion of weak colonists?The cause of American womanhood, embodied for the moment in the libertyof a single individual, received a rebuff on June 17, 1873; but, just assurely as our Revolutionary heroes were in the end victorious, so willthe inalienable rights of our heroines of the nineteenth century receivefinal vindication. 

In his speech of 1880, before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard, Wendell Phillips said--what as a rule is true--that "a reformer, to beconscientious, must be free from bread-winning. " I will open MissAnthony's accounts and show that this reformer, being, perhaps, theexception which proves the rule, has been consistently andconscientiously in debt. Turning over her year-books the pages give afair record up to 1863. Here began the first herculean labor. TheWoman's Loyal League, sadly in need of funds, was not an incorporatedassociation, so its secretary assumed the debts. Accounts here becamequite lamentable, the deficit reaching five thousand dollars. It must bepaid, and, in fact, will be paid. Anxious, weary hours were spent incrowding the Cooper Institute, from week to week, with paying audiences, to listen to such men as Phillips, Curtis, and Douglass, who contributedtheir services, and lifted the secretary out of debt. At last, aftermany difficulties, her cash-book of 1863 was honorably pigeon-holed. In1867 we can read account of herculean labor the second. Twenty thousandtracts are needed to convert the voters of Kansas to woman suffrage. Traveling expenses to Kansas, and the tracts, make the debtor columnoverreach the creditor some two thousand dollars. There is recognitionon these pages of more than one thousand dollars obtained by solicitingadvertisements, but no note is made of the weary, burning July daysspent in the streets of New York to procure this money, nor of the readyapplication of the savings made by petty economies from her salary fromthe Hovey Committee. 

It would have been fortunate for my brave friend, if cash-books 1868, 1869, and 1870 had never come down from their shelves; for they sing andsing, in notes of debts, till all unite in one vast chorus of far morethan ten thousand dollars. These were the days of the _Revolution_, thenewspaper, not the war, though it was warfare for the debt-riddenmanager. Several thousand dollars she paid with money earned bylecturing, and with money given her for personal use. One Thanksgivingwas, in truth, a time for returning thanks; for she received, canceled, from her cousin, Anson Lapham, her note for four thousand dollars. Afterthe funeral of Paulina Wright Davis, the bereaved widower pressed intoMiss Anthony's hand canceled notes for five hundred dollars, bearing onthe back the words, "In memory of my beloved wife. " One other note wascanceled in recognition of her perfect forgetfulness of self-interestand ready sacrifice to the needs of others. When laboring, in 1874, tofill every engagement, in order to meet her debts, her mother's suddenillness called her home. Without one selfish regret, the anxiousdaughter hastened to Rochester. When recovery was certain, and MissAnthony was about to return to her fatiguing labors, her mother gaveher, at parting, her note for a thousand dollars, on which was written, in trembling lines, "In just consideration of the tender sacrifice madeto nurse me in severe illness. " At last all the _Revolution_ debt waspaid, except that due to her generous sister, Mary Anthony, who usedoften humorously to assure her she was a fit subject for the bankruptact. 

There is something humorously pathetic in the death of the_Revolution_--that firstborn of Miss Anthony. Mrs. Laura Curtis Bullardgenerously assumed the care of the troublesome child, and, in order tomake the adoption legal, gave the usual consideration--one dollar. Thevery night of the transfer Miss Anthony went to Rochester with thedollar in her pocket, and the little change left after purchasing herticket. She arrived safely with her debts, but nothing more--her pockethad been picked! Oh, thief, could you but know what value of faithfulwork you purloined!

From the close of the year 1876 Miss Anthony's accounts showed favorablesigns as to the credit column. Indeed, at the end of five years therewas a solid balance of several thousand dollars earned on lecturingtours. But alas! the accounts grow dim again--in fact the credit columnfades away. "The History of Woman Suffrage" ruthlessly swallowed upevery vestige of Miss Anthony's bank account. But, in 1886, by the willof Mrs. Eddy, daughter of Francis Jackson of Boston, Miss Anthonyreceived twenty-four thousand dollars for the Woman's Suffrage Movement, which lifted her out of debt once more. 

In vain will you search these telltale books for evidence of personalextravagance; for, although Miss Anthony thinks it true economy to buythe best, her tastes are simple. Is there not something very touching inthe fact that she never bought a book or picture for her own enjoyment?The meager personal balance-sheets show four lapses fromdiscipline, --lapses that she even now regards as ruthlessextravagance, --viz. : the purchase of two inexpensive brooches, a muchneeded watch, and a pair of cuffs to match a point-lace collar presentedby a friend. Those interested in Miss Anthony's personal appearance longago ceased to trust her with the purchase-money for any ornament; for, however firm her resolution to comply with their wish, the checkinvariably found its way to the credit column of those little cash-booksas "money received for the cause. " Now, reader, you have been admittedto a private view of Miss Anthony's financial records, and you canappreciate her devotion to an idea. Do you not agree with me that a"bread-winner" can be a conscientious reformer?

In finishing this sketch of the most intimate friend I have had for thepast forty-five years, --with whom I have spent weeks and months underthe same roof, --I can truly say that she is the most upright, courageous, self-sacrificing, magnanimous human being I have ever known. I have seen her beset on every side with the most petty annoyances, ridiculed and misrepresented, slandered and persecuted; I have knownwomen refuse to take her extended hand; women to whom she presentedcopies of "The History of Woman Suffrage, " return it unnoticed; othersto keep it without one word of acknowledgment; others to write mostinsulting letters in answer to hers of affectionate conciliation. Andyet, under all the cross-fires incident to a reform, never has her hopeflagged, her self-respect wavered, or a feeling of resentment shadowedher mind. Oftentimes, when I have been sorely discouraged, thinking thatthe prolonged struggle was a waste of force which in other directionsmight be rich in achievement, with her sublime faith in humanity, shewould breathe into my soul renewed inspiration, saying, "Pity ratherthan blame those who persecute us. " So closely interwoven have been ourlives, our purposes, and experiences that, separated, we have a feelingof incompleteness--united, such strength of self-assertion that noordinary obstacles, difficulties, or dangers ever appear to usinsurmountable. Reviewing the life of Susan B. Anthony, I ever liken herto the Doric column in Grecian architecture, so simply, so grandly shestands, free from every extraneous ornament, supporting her one vastidea--the enfranchisement of woman. 

As our estimate of ourselves and our friendship may differ somewhat fromthat taken from an objective point of view, I will give an extract fromwhat our common friend Theodore Tilton wrote of us in 1868:

 "Miss Susan B. Anthony, a well-known, indefatigable, and lifelong advocate of temperance, anti-slavery, and woman's rights, has been, since 1851, Mrs. Stanton's intimate associate in reformatory labors. These celebrated women are of about equal age, but of the most opposite characteristics, and illustrate the theory of counterparts in affection by entertaining for each other a friendship of extraordinary strength. 

 "Mrs. Stanton is a fine writer, but a poor executant; Miss Anthony is a thorough manager, but a poor writer. Both have large brains and great hearts; neither has any selfish ambition for celebrity; but each vies with the other in a noble enthusiasm for the cause to which they are devoting their lives. 

 "Nevertheless, to describe them critically, I ought to say that, opposites though they be, each does not so much supplement the other's deficiencies as augment the other's eccentricities. Thus they often stimulate each other's aggressiveness, and, at the same time, diminish each other's discretion. 

 "But, whatever may be the imprudent utterances of the one or the impolitic methods of the other, the animating motives of both are evermore as white as the light. The good that they do is by design; the harm by accident. These two women, sitting together in their parlors, have, for the last thirty years, been diligent forgers of all manner of projectiles, from fireworks to thunderbolts, and have hurled them with unexpected explosion into the midst of all manner of educational, reformatory, religious, and political assemblies; sometimes to the pleasant surprise and half welcome of the members, more often to the bewilderment and prostration of numerous victims; and, in a few signal instances, to the gnashing of angry men's teeth. I know of no two more pertinacious incendiaries in the whole country. Nor will they, themselves deny the charge. In fact this noise-making twain are the two sticks of a drum, keeping up what Daniel Webster called 'The rub-a-dub of agitation. '"

CHAPTER XII. 

MY FIRST SPEECH BEFORE A LEGISLATURE. 

Women had been willing so long to hold a subordinate position, both inprivate and public affairs, that a gradually growing feeling ofrebellion among them quite exasperated the men, and their manifestationsof hostility in public meetings were often as ridiculous as humiliating. 

True, those gentlemen were all quite willing that women should jointheir societies and churches to do the drudgery; to work up theenthusiasm in fairs and revivals, conventions and flag presentations; topay a dollar apiece into their treasury for the honor of being membersof their various organizations; to beg money for the Church; tocirculate petitions from door to door; to visit saloons; to pray with ordefy rumsellers; to teach school at half price, and sit round theoutskirts of a hall, in teachers' State conventions, like so manywallflowers; but they would not allow them to sit on the platform, address the assembly, or vote for men and measures. 

Those who had learned the first lessons of human rights from the lips ofHenry B. Stanton, Samuel J. May, and Gerrit Smith would not accept anysuch position. When women abandoned the temperance reform, all interestin the question gradually died out in the State, and practically nothingwas done in New York for nearly twenty years. Gerrit Smith made one ortwo attempts toward an "anti-dramshop" party, but, as women could notvote, they felt no interest in the measure, and failure was the result. 

I soon convinced Miss Anthony that the ballot was the key to thesituation; that when we had a voice in the laws we should be welcome toany platform. In turning the intense earnestness and religiousenthusiasm of this great-souled woman into this channel, I soon felt thepower of my convert in goading me forever forward to more untiring work. Soon fastened, heart to heart, with hooks of steel in a friendship thatyears of confidence and affection have steadily strengthened, we havelabored faithfully together. 

From the year 1850 conventions were held in various States, and theirrespective legislatures were continually besieged; New York wasthoroughly canvassed by Miss Anthony and others. Appeals, calls formeetings, and petitions were circulated without number. In 1854 Iprepared my first speech for the New York legislature. That was a greatevent in my life. I felt so nervous over it, lest it should not beworthy the occasion, that Miss Anthony suggested that I should slip upto Rochester and submit it to the Rev. William Henry Channing, who waspreaching there at that time. I did so, and his opinion was so favorableas to the merits of my speech that I felt quite reassured. My fatherfelt equally nervous when he saw, by the Albany _Evening Journal_, thatI was to speak at the Capitol, and asked me to read my speech to himalso. Accordingly, I stopped at Johnstown on my way to Albany, and, lateone evening, when he was alone in his office, I entered and took my seaton the opposite side of his table. On no occasion, before or since, wasI ever more embarrassed--an audience of one, and that the one of allothers whose approbation I most desired, whose disapproval I mostfeared. I knew he condemned the whole movement, and was deeply grievedat the active part I had taken. Hence I was fully aware that I was aboutto address a wholly unsympathetic audience. However, I began, with adogged determination to give all the power I could to my manuscript, andnot to be discouraged or turned from my purpose by any tender appeals oradverse criticisms. I described the widow in the first hours of hergrief, subject to the intrusions of the coarse minions of the law, taking inventory of the household goods, of the old armchair in whichher loved one had breathed his last, of the old clock in the corner thattold the hour he passed away. I threw all the pathos I could into myvoice and language at this point, and, to my intense satisfaction, I sawtears filling my father's eyes. I cannot express the exultation I felt, thinking that now he would see, with my eyes, the injustice womensuffered under the laws he understood so well. 

Feeling that I had touched his heart I went on with renewed confidence, and, when I had finished, I saw he was thoroughly magnetized. Withbeating heart I waited for him to break the silence. He was evidentlydeeply pondering over all he had heard, and did not speak for a longtime. I believed I had opened to him a new world of thought. He hadlistened long to the complaints of women, but from the lips of his owndaughter they had come with a deeper pathos and power. At last, turningabruptly, he said: "Surely you have had a happy, comfortable life, withall your wants and needs supplied; and yet that speech fills me withself-reproach; for one might naturally ask, how can a young woman, tenderly brought up, who has had no bitter personal experience, feel sokeenly the wrongs of her sex? Where did you learn this lesson?" "Ilearned it here, " I replied, "in your office, when a child, listening tothe complaints women made to you. They who have sympathy and imaginationto make the sorrows of others their own can readily learn all the hardlessons of life from the experience of others. " "Well, well!" he said, "you have made your points clear and strong; but I think I can find youeven more cruel laws than those you have quoted. " He suggested someimprovements in my speech, looked up other laws, and it was one o'clockin the morning before we kissed each other good-night. How he felt onthe question after that I do not know, as he never said anything infavor of or against it. He gladly gave me any help I needed, from timeto time, in looking up the laws, and was very desirous that whatever Igave to the public should be carefully prepared. 

Miss Anthony printed twenty thousand copies of this address, laid it onthe desk of every member of the legislature, both in the Assembly andSenate, and, in her travels that winter, she circulated it throughoutthe State. I am happy to say I never felt so anxious about the fate of aspeech since. 

The first woman's convention in Albany was held at this time, and we hada kind of protracted meeting for two weeks after. There were severalhearings before both branches of the legislature, and a succession ofmeetings in Association Hall, in which Phillips, Channing, Ernestine L. Rose, Antoinette L. Brown, and Susan B. Anthony took part. Being at thecapital of the State, discussion was aroused at every fireside, whilethe comments of the press were numerous and varied. Every little countrypaper had something witty or silly to say about the uprising of the"strong-minded. " Those editors whose heads were about the size of anapple were the most opposed to the uprising of women, illustrating whatSidney Smith said long ago: "There always was, and there always will bea class of men so small that, if women were educated, there would benobody left below them. " Poor human nature loves to have something tolook down upon!

Here is a specimen of the way such editors talked at that time. The_Albany Register_, in an article on "Woman's Rights in the Legislature, "dated March 7, 1854, says:

 "While the feminine propagandists of women's rights confined themselves to the exhibition of short petticoats and long-legged boots, and to the holding of conventions and speech-making in concert rooms, the people were disposed to be amused by them, as they are by the wit of the clown in the circus, or the performances of Punch and Judy on fair days, or the minstrelsy of gentlemen with blackened faces, on banjos, the tambourine, and bones. But the joke is becoming stale. People are getting cloyed with these performances, and are looking for some healthier and more intellectual amusement. The ludicrous is wearing away, and disgust is taking the place of pleasurable sensations, arising from the novelty of this new phase of hypocrisy and infidel fanaticism. 

 "People are beginning to inquire how far public sentiment should sanction or tolerate these unsexed women, who would step out from the true sphere of the mother, the wife, and the daughter, and taking upon themselves the duties and the business of men, stalk into the public gaze, and, by engaging in the politics, the rough controversies and trafficking of the world, upheave existing institutions, and overrun all the social relations of life. 

 "It is a melancholy reflection that, among our American women, who have been educated to better things, there should be found any who are willing to follow the lead of such foreign propagandists as the ringleted, gloved exotic, Ernestine L. Rose. We can understand how such a man as the Rev. Mr. May, or the sleek-headed Dr. Channing, may be deluded by her into becoming one of her disciples. They are not the first instances of infatuation that may overtake weak-minded men, if they are honest in their devotion to her and her doctrines; nor would they be the first examples of a low ambition that seeks notoriety as a substitute for true fame, if they are dishonest. Such men there are always, and, honest or dishonest, their true position is that of being tied to the apron strings of some strong-minded woman, and to be exhibited as rare specimens of human wickedness or human weakness and folly. But that one educated American should become her disciple and follow her insane teachings is a marvel. "

When we see the abuse and ridicule to which the best of men weresubjected for standing on our platform in the early days, we need notwonder that so few have been brave enough to advocate our cause in lateryears, either in conventions or in the halls of legislation. 

After twelve added years of agitation, following the passage of theProperty Bill, New York conceded other civil rights to married women. Pending the discussion of these various bills, Susan B. Anthonycirculated petitions, both for the civil and political rights of women, throughout the State, traveling in stage coaches, open wagons, andsleighs in all seasons, and on foot, from door to door through towns andcities, doing her uttermost to rouse women to some sense of theirnatural rights as human beings, and to their civil and political rightsas citizens of a republic. And while expending her time, strength, andmoney to secure these blessings for the women of the State, they wouldgruffly tell her that they had all the rights they wanted, or rudelyshut the door in her face; leaving her to stand outside, petition inhand, treating her with as much contempt as if she was asking alms forherself. None but those who did that work in the early days, for theslaves and the women, can ever know the hardships and humiliations thatwere endured. But it was done because it was only through petitions--apower seemingly so inefficient--that disfranchised classes could beheard in the State and National councils; hence their importance. 

The frivolous objections some women made to our appeals were asexasperating as they were ridiculous. To reply to them politely, at alltimes, required a divine patience. On one occasion, after addressing thelegislature, some of the ladies, in congratulating me, inquired, in adeprecating tone, "What do you do with your children?" "Ladies, " I said, "it takes me no longer to speak, than you to listen; what have you donewith your children the two hours you have been sitting here? But, toanswer your question, I never leave my children to go to Saratoga, Washington, Newport, or Europe, or even to come here. They are, at thismoment, with a faithful nurse at the Delevan House, and, havingaccomplished my mission, we shall all return home together. "

When my children reached the magic number of seven, my good angel, SusanB. Anthony, would sometimes take one or two of them to her own quiethome, just out of Rochester, where, on a well-cultivated little farm, one could enjoy uninterrupted rest and the choicest fruits of theseason. That was always a safe harbor for my friend, as her familysympathized fully in the reforms to which she gave her life. I have manypleasant memories of my own flying visits to that hospitable Quaker homeand the broad catholic spirit of Daniel and Lucy Anthony. Whateveropposition and ridicule their daughter endured elsewhere, she enjoyedthe steadfast sympathy and confidence of her own home circle. Herfaithful sister Mary, a most successful teacher in the public schools ofRochester for a quarter of a century, and a good financier, who with herpatrimony and salary had laid by a competence, took on her shouldersdouble duty at home in cheering the declining years of her parents, thatSusan might do the public work in the reforms in which they were equallyinterested. Now, with life's earnest work nearly accomplished, thesisters are living happily together; illustrating another of the manycharming homes of single women, so rapidly multiplying of late. 

Miss Anthony, who was a frequent guest at my home, sometimes stood guardwhen I was absent. The children of our household say that among theirearliest recollections is the tableau of "Mother and Susan, " seated by alarge table covered with books and papers, always writing and talkingabout the Constitution, interrupted with occasional visits from othersof the faithful. Hither came Elizabeth Oakes Smith, Paulina WrightDavis, Frances Dana Gage, Dr. Harriet Hunt, Rev. Antoinette Brown, LucyStone, and Abby Kelly, until all these names were as familiar ashousehold words to the children. 

Martha C. Wright of Auburn was a frequent visitor at the center of therebellion, as my sequestered cottage on Locust Hill was facetiouslycalled. She brought to these councils of war not only her own wisdom, but that of the wife and sister of William H. Seward, and sometimesencouraging suggestions from the great statesman himself, from whosewritings we often gleaned grand and radical sentiments. Lucretia Mott, too, being an occasional guest of her sister, Martha C. Wright, addedthe dignity of her presence at many of these important consultations. She was uniformly in favor of toning down our fiery pronunciamentos. ForMiss Anthony and myself, the English language had no words strong enoughto express the indignation we felt at the prolonged injustice to women. We found, however, that, after expressing ourselves in the most vehementmanner and thus in a measure giving our feelings an outlet, we werereconciled to issue the documents in milder terms. If the men of theState could have known the stern rebukes, the denunciations, the wit, the irony, the sarcasm that were garnered there, and then judiciouslypigeonholed and milder and more persuasive appeals substituted, theywould have been truly thankful that they fared no worse. 

Senator Seward frequently left Washington to visit in our neighborhood, at the house of Judge G. V. Sackett, a man of wealth and politicalinfluence. One of the Senator's standing anecdotes, at dinner, toillustrate the purifying influence of women at the polls, which healways told with great zest for my especial benefit, was in regard tothe manner in which his wife's sister exercised the right of suffrage. 

He said: "Mrs. Worden having the supervision of a farm near Auburn, wasobliged to hire two or three men for its cultivation. It was her custom, having examined them as to their capacity to perform the required labor, their knowledge of tools, horses, cattle, and horticulture, to inquireas to their politics. She informed them that, being a widow and havingno one to represent her, she must have Republicans to do her voting andto represent her political opinions, and it always so happened that themen who offered their services belonged to the Republican party. Iremarked to her, one day, 'Are you sure your men vote as they promise?''Yes, ' she replied, 'I trust nothing to their discretion. I take them inmy carriage within sight of the polls and put them in charge of someRepublican who can be trusted. I see that they have the right ticketsand then I feel sure that I am faithfully represented, and I know I amright in so doing. I have neither husband, father, nor son; I amresponsible for my own taxes; am amenable to all the laws of the State;must pay the penalty of my own crimes if I commit any; hence I have theright, according to the principles of our government, to representation, and so long as I am not permitted to vote in person, I have a right todo so by proxy; hence I hire men to vote my principles. '"

These two sisters, Mrs. Worden and Mrs. Seward, daughters of JudgeMiller, an influential man, were women of culture and remarkable naturalintelligence, and interested in all progressive ideas. They had rarecommon sense and independence of character, great simplicity of manner, and were wholly indifferent to the little arts of the toilet. 

I was often told by fashionable women that they objected to the woman'srights movement because of the publicity of a convention, the immodestyof speaking from a platform, and the trial of seeing one's name in thepapers. Several ladies made such remarks to me one day, as a bevy of uswere sitting together in one of the fashionable hotels in Newport. Wewere holding a convention there at that time, and some of them had beenpresent at one of the sessions. "Really, " said I, "ladies, you surpriseme; our conventions are not as public as the ballroom where I saw youall dancing last night. As to modesty, it may be a question, in manyminds, whether it is less modest to speak words of soberness and truth, plainly dressed on a platform, than gorgeously arrayed, with bare armsand shoulders, to waltz in the arms of strange gentlemen. And as to thepress, I noticed you all reading, in this morning's papers, with evidentsatisfaction, the personal compliments and full descriptions of yourdresses at the last ball. I presume that any one of you would have feltslighted if your name had not been mentioned in the general description. When my name is mentioned, it is in connection with some great reformmovement. Thus we all suffer or enjoy the same publicity--we are alikeridiculed. Wise men pity and ridicule you, and fools pity and ridiculeme--you as the victims of folly and fashion, me as the representative ofmany of the disagreeable 'isms' of the age, as they choose to styleliberal opinions. It is amusing, in analyzing prejudices, to see on whatslender foundation they rest. " And the ladies around me were socompletely cornered that no one attempted an answer. 

I remember being at a party at Secretary Seward's home, at Auburn, oneevening, when Mr. Burlingame, special ambassador from China to theUnited States, with a Chinese delegation, were among the guests. As soonas the dancing commenced, and young ladies and gentlemen, locked in eachother's arms, began to whirl in the giddy waltz, these Chinese gentlemenwere so shocked that they covered their faces with their fans, occasionally peeping out each side and expressing their surprise to eachother. They thought us the most immodest women on the face of the earth. Modesty and taste are questions of latitude and education; the morepeople know, --the more their ideas are expanded by travel, experience, and observation, --the less easily they are shocked. The narrowness andbigotry of women are the result of their circumscribed sphere of thoughtand action. 

A few years after Judge Hurlbert had published his work on "HumanRights, " in which he advocated woman's right to the suffrage, and I hadaddressed the legislature, we met at a dinner party in Albany. Senatorand Mrs. Seward were there. The Senator was very merry on that occasionand made Judge Hurlbert and myself the target for all his ridicule onthe woman's rights question, in which the most of the company joined, sothat we stood quite alone. Sure that we had the right on our side andthe arguments clearly defined in our minds, and both being cool andself-possessed, and in wit and sarcasm quite equal to any of them, wefought the Senator, inch by inch, until he had a very narrow platform tostand on. Mrs. Seward maintained an unbroken silence, while those ladieswho did open their lips were with the opposition, supposing, no doubt, that Senator Seward represented his wife's opinions. 

When we ladies withdrew from the table my embarrassment may be easilyimagined. Separated from the Judge, I would now be an hour with a bevyof ladies who evidently felt repugnance to all my most cherishedopinions. It was the first time I had met Mrs. Seward, and I did notthen know the broad, liberal tendencies of her mind. What a tide ofdisagreeable thoughts rushed through me in that short passage from thedining room to the parlor. How gladly I would have glided out the frontdoor! But that was impossible, so I made up my mind to stroll round asif self-absorbed, and look at the books and paintings until the Judgeappeared; as I took it for granted that, after all I had said at thetable on the political, religious, and social equality of women, not alady would have anything to say to me. 

Imagine, then, my surprise when, the moment the parlor door was closedupon us, Mrs. Seward, approaching me most affectionately, said:

"Let me thank you for the brave words you uttered at the dinner table, and for your speech before the legislature, that thrilled my soul as Iread it over and over. "

I was filled with joy and astonishment. Recovering myself, I said, "Isit possible, Mrs. Seward, that you agree with me? Then why, when I wasso hard pressed by foes on every side, did you not come to the defense?I supposed that all you ladies were hostile to every one of my ideas onthis question. "

"No, no!" said she; "I am with you thoroughly, but I am a born coward;there is nothing I dread more than Mr. Seward's ridicule. I would ratherwalk up to the cannon's mouth than encounter it. " "I, too, am with you, ""And I, " said two or three others, who had been silent at the table. 

I never had a more serious, heartfelt conversation than with theseladies. Mrs. Seward's spontaneity and earnestness had moved them alldeeply, and when the Senator appeared the first words he said were:

"Before we part I must confess that I was fairly vanquished by you andthe Judge, on my own principles" (for we had quoted some of his mostradical utterances). "You have the argument, but custom and prejudiceare against you, and they are stronger than truth and logic. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

REFORMS AND MOBS. 

There was one bright woman among the many in our Seneca Falls literarycircle to whom I would give more than a passing notice--Mrs. AmeliaBloomer, who represented three novel phases of woman's life. She wasassistant postmistress; an editor of a reform paper advocatingtemperance and woman's rights; and an advocate of the new costume whichbore her name!

In 1849 her husband was appointed postmaster, and she became his deputy, was duly sworn in, and, during the administration of Taylor andFillmore, served in that capacity. When she assumed her duties theimprovement in the appearance and conduct of the office was generallyacknowledged. A neat little room adjoining the public office became akind of ladies' exchange, where those coming from different parts of thetown could meet to talk over the news of the day and read the papers andmagazines that came to Mrs. Bloomer as editor of the _Lily_. Those whoenjoyed the brief reign of a woman in the post office can readilytestify to the void felt by the ladies of the village when Mrs. Bloomer's term expired and a man once more reigned in her stead. However, she still edited the _Lily_, and her office remained afashionable center for several years. Although she wore the bloomerdress, its originator was Elizabeth Smith Miller, the only daughter ofGerrit Smith. In the winter of 1852 Mrs. Miller came to visit me inSeneca Falls, dressed somewhat in the Turkish style--short skirt, fulltrousers of fine black broadcloth; a Spanish cloak, of the samematerial, reaching to the knee; beaver hat and feathers and dark furs;altogether a most becoming costume and exceedingly convenient forwalking in all kinds of weather. To see my cousin, with a lamp in onehand and a baby in the other, walk upstairs with ease and grace, while, with flowing robes, I pulled myself up with difficulty, lamp and babyout of the question, readily convinced me that there was sore need ofreform in woman's dress, and I promptly donned a similar attire. Whatincredible freedom I enjoyed for two years! Like a captive set free fromhis ball and chain, I was always ready for a brisk walk through sleetand snow and rain, to climb a mountain, jump over a fence, work in thegarden, and, in fact, for any necessary locomotion. 

Bloomer is now a recognized word in the English language. Mrs. Bloomer, having the _Lily_ in which to discuss the merits of the new dress, thepress generally took up the question, and much valuable information waselicited on the physiological results of woman's fashionable attire; thecrippling effect of tight waists and long skirts, the heavy weight onthe hips, and high heels, all combined to throw the spine out of plumband lay the foundation for all manner of nervous diseases. But, whileall agreed that some change was absolutely necessary for the health ofwomen, the press stoutly ridiculed those who were ready to make theexperiment. 

A few sensible women, in different parts of the country, adopted thecostume, and farmers' wives especially proved its convenience. It wasalso worn by skaters, gymnasts, tourists, and in sanitariums. But, whilethe few realized its advantages, the many laughed it to scorn, andheaped such ridicule on its wearers that they soon found that thephysical freedom enjoyed did not compensate for the persistentpersecution and petty annoyances suffered at every turn. To be rudelygazed at in public and private, to be the conscious subjects ofcriticism, and to be followed by crowds of boys in the streets, wereall, to the very last degree, exasperating. A favorite doggerel that ourtormentors chanted, when we appeared in public places, ran thus:

 "Heigh! ho! in rain and snow, The bloomer now is all the go. Twenty tailors take the stitches, Twenty women wear the breeches. Heigh! ho! in rain or snow, The bloomer now is all the go. "

The singers were generally invisible behind some fence or attic window. Those who wore the dress can recall countless amusing and annoyingexperiences. The patience of most of us was exhausted in about twoyears; but our leader, Mrs. Miller, bravely adhered to the costume fornearly seven years, under the most trying circumstances. While herfather was in Congress, she wore it at many fashionable dinners andreceptions in Washington. She was bravely sustained, however, by herhusband, Colonel Miller, who never flinched in escorting his wife andher coadjutors, however inartistic their costumes might be. To tall, gaunt women with large feet and to those who were short and stout, itwas equally trying. Mrs. Miller was also encouraged by the intensefeeling of her father on the question of woman's dress. To him the wholerevolution in woman's position turned on her dress. The long skirt wasthe symbol of her degradation. 

The names of those who wore the bloomer costume, besides those alreadymentioned, were Paulina Wright Davis, Lucy Stone, Susan B. Anthony, Sarah and Angelina Grimke, Mrs. William Burleigh, Celia Burleigh, Charlotte Beebe Wilbour, Helen Jarvis, Lydia Jenkins, Amelia Willard, Dr. Harriet N. Austin, and many patients in sanitariums, whose names Icannot recall. Looking back to this experiment, I am not surprised atthe hostility of men in general to the dress, as it made it veryuncomfortable for them to go anywhere with those who wore it. Peoplewould stare, many men and women make rude remarks, boys followed incrowds, with jeers and laughter, so that gentlemen in attendance wouldfeel it their duty to show fight, unless they had sufficientself-control to pursue the even tenor of their way, as the ladiesthemselves did, without taking the slightest notice of the commotionthey created. But Colonel Miller went through the ordeal with coolnessand dogged determination, to the vexation of his acquaintances, whothought one of his duties as a husband was to prescribe his wife'scostume. 

Though we did not realize the success we hoped for by making the dresspopular, yet the effort was not lost. We were well aware that the dresswas not artistic, and though we made many changes, our own good tastewas never satisfied until we threw aside the loose trousers and adoptedbuttoned leggins. After giving up the experiment, we found that thecostume in which Diana the Huntress is represented, and that worn on thestage by Ellen Tree in the play of "Ion, " would have been more artisticand convenient. But we, who had made the experiment, were too happy tomove about unnoticed and unknown, to risk, again, the happiness ofourselves and our friends by any further experiments. I have neverwondered since that the Chinese women allow their daughters' feet to beencased in iron shoes, nor that the Hindoo widows walk calmly to thefuneral pyre; for great are the penalties of those who dare resist thebehests of the tyrant Custom. 

Nevertheless the agitation has been kept up, in a mild form, both inEngland and America. Lady Harberton, in 1885, was at the head of anorganized movement in London to introduce the bifurcated skirt; Mrs. Jenness Miller, in this country, is making an entire revolution in everygarment that belongs to a woman's toilet; and common-sense shoemakershave vouchsafed to us, at last, a low, square heel to our boots and abroad sole in which the five toes can spread themselves at pleasure. Evidently a new day of physical freedom is at last dawning for the mostcribbed and crippled of Eve's unhappy daughters. 

It was while living in Seneca Falls, and at one of the most despairingperiods of my young life, that one of the best gifts of the gods came tome in the form of a good, faithful housekeeper. She was indeed atreasure, a friend and comforter, a second mother to my children, andunderstood all life's duties and gladly bore its burdens. She could fillany department in domestic life, and for thirty years was the joy of ourhousehold. But for this noble, self-sacrificing woman, much of my publicwork would have been quite impossible. If by word or deed I have madethe journey of life easier for any struggling soul, I must in justiceshare the meed of praise accorded me with my little Quaker friend AmeliaWillard. 

There are two classes of housekeepers--one that will get what they want, if in the range of human possibilities, and then accept the inevitableinconveniences with cheerfulness and heroism; the other, from a kind ofchronic inertia and a fear of taking responsibility, accept everythingas they find it, though with gentle, continuous complainings. The latterare called amiable women. Such a woman was our congressman's wife in1854, and, as I was the reservoir of all her sorrows, great and small, Ibecame very weary of her amiable non-resistance. Among other domestictrials, she had a kitchen stove that smoked and leaked, which couldneither bake nor broil, --a worthless thing, --and too small for anypurpose. Consequently half their viands were spoiled in the cooking, andthe cooks left in disgust, one after another. 

In telling me, one day, of these kitchen misadventures, she actuallyshed tears, which so roused my sympathies that, with surprise, Iexclaimed: "Why do you not buy a new stove?" To my unassisted commonsense that seemed the most practical thing to do. "Why, " she replied, "Ihave never purchased a darning needle, to put the case strongly, withoutconsulting Mr. S. , and he does not think a new stove necessary. " "What, pray, " said I, "does he know about stoves, sitting in his easy-chair inWashington? If he had a dull old knife with broken blades, he would soonget a new one with which to sharpen his pens and pencils, and, if heattempted to cook a meal--granting he knew how--on your old stove, hewould set it out of doors the next hour. Now my advice to you is to buya new one this very day!"

"Bless me!" she said, "that would make him furious; he would blow mesky-high. " "Well, " I replied, "suppose he did go into a regular tantrumand use all the most startling expletives in the vocabulary for fifteenminutes! What is that compared with a good stove 365 days in the year?Just put all he could say on one side, and all the advantages you wouldenjoy on the other, and you must readily see that his wrath would kickthe beam. " As my logic was irresistible, she said, "Well, if you will gowith me, and help select a stove, I think I will take theresponsibility. "

Accordingly we went to the hardware store and selected the mostapproved, largest-sized stove, with all the best cooking utensils, bestRussian pipe, etc. "Now, " said she, "I am in equal need of a good stovein my sitting room, and I would like the pipes of both stoves to leadinto dumb stoves above, and thus heat two or three rooms upstairs for mychildren to play in, as they have no place except the sitting room, where they must be always with me; but I suppose it is not best to dotoo much at one time. " "On the contrary, " I replied, "as your husband iswealthy, you had better get all you really need now. Mr. S. Willprobably be no more surprised with two stoves than with one, and, as youexpect a hot scene over the matter, the more you get out of it thebetter. "

So the stoves and pipes were ordered, holes cut through the ceiling, andall were in working order next day. The cook was delighted over hersplendid stove and shining tins, copper-bottomed tea kettle and boiler, and warm sleeping room upstairs; the children were delighted with theirlarge playrooms, and madam jubilant with her added comforts and thatnewborn feeling of independence one has in assuming responsibility. 

She was expecting Mr. S. Home in the holidays, and occasionally weakenedat the prospect of what she feared might be a disagreeable encounter. Atsuch times she came to consult with me, as to what she would say and dowhen the crisis arrived. Having studied the _genus homo_ alike on thedivine heights of exaltation and in the valleys of humiliation, I wasable to make some valuable suggestions. 

"Now, " said I, "when your husband explodes, as you think he will, neither say nor do anything; sit and gaze out of the window with thatfar-away, sad look women know so well how to affect. If you can summontears at pleasure, a few would not be amiss; a gentle shower, not enoughto make the nose and eyes red or to detract from your beauty. Men cannotresist beauty and tears. Never mar their effect with anything borderingon sobs and hysteria; such violent manifestations being neither refinednor artistic. A scene in which one person does the talking must belimited in time. No ordinary man can keep at white heat fifteen minutes;if his victim says nothing, he will soon exhaust himself. Remember everytime you speak in the way of defense, you give him a new text on whichto branch out again. If silence is ever golden, it is when a husband isin a tantrum. "

In due time Mr. S. Arrived, laden with Christmas presents, and Charlottecame over to tell me that she had passed through the ordeal. I will givethe scene in her own words as nearly as possible. "My husband cameyesterday, just before dinner, and, as I expected him, I had all thingsin order. He seemed very happy to see me and the children, and we had agay time looking at our presents and chatting about Washington and allthat had happened since we parted. It made me sad, in the midst of ourhappiness, to think how soon the current of his feelings would change, and I wished in my soul that I had not bought the stoves. But, at last, dinner was announced, and I knew that the hour had come. He ran upstairsto give a few touches to his toilet, when lo! the shining stoves andpipes caught his eyes. He explored the upper apartments and came downthe back stairs, glanced at the kitchen stove, then into the diningroom, and stood confounded, for a moment, before the nickel-plated'Morning Glory. ' Then he exclaimed, 'Heavens and earth! Charlotte, whathave you been doing?' I remembered what you told me and said nothing, but looked steadily out of the window. I summoned no tears, however, forI felt more like laughing than crying; he looked so ridiculous flyinground spasmodically, like popcorn on a hot griddle, and talking as ifmaking a stump speech on the corruptions of the Democrats. The firsttime he paused to take breath I said, in my softest tones: 'William, dinner is waiting; I fear the soup will be cold. ' Fortunately he washungry, and that great central organ of life and happiness asserted itsclaims on his attention, and he took his seat at the table. I broke whatmight have been an awkward silence, chatting with the older childrenabout their school lessons. Fortunately they were late, and did not knowwhat had happened, so they talked to their father and gradually restoredhis equilibrium. We had a very good dinner, and I have not heard a wordabout the stoves since. I suppose we shall have another scene when thebill is presented. "

A few years later, Horace Greeley came to Seneca Falls to lecture ontemperance. As he stayed with us, we invited Mr. S. , among others, todinner. The chief topic at the table was the idiosyncrasies of women. Mr. Greeley told many amusing things about his wife, of her erraticmovements and sudden decisions to do and dare what seemed mostimpracticable. Perhaps, on rising some morning, she would say: "I thinkI'll go to Europe by the next steamer, Horace. Will you get ticketsto-day for me, the nurse, and children?" "Well, " said Mr. S. , "she mustbe something like our hostess. Every time her husband goes away she cutsa door or window. They have only ten doors to lock every night, now. "

"Yes, " I said, "and your own wife, too, Mrs. S. , has the credit of somehigh-handed measures when you are in Washington. " Then I told the wholestory, amid peals of laughter, just as related above. The dinner tablescene fairly convulsed the Congressman. The thought that he had madesuch a fool of himself in the eyes of Charlotte that she could not evensummon a tear in her defense, particularly pleased him. Whensufficiently recovered to speak, he said: "Well, I never couldunderstand how it was that Charlotte suddenly emerged from her thraldomand manifested such rare executive ability. Now I see to whom I amindebted for the most comfortable part of my married life. I am athousand times obliged to you; you did just right and so did she, andshe has been a happier woman ever since. She now gets what she needs, and frets no more, to me, about ten thousand little things. How can aman know what implements are necessary for the work he never does? Ofall agencies for upsetting the equanimity of family life, none cansurpass an old, broken-down kitchen stove!"

In the winter of 1861, just after the election of Lincoln, theabolitionists decided to hold a series of conventions in the chiefcities of the North. All their available speakers were pledged foractive service. The Republican party, having absorbed the politicalabolitionists within its ranks by its declared hostility to theextension of slavery, had come into power with overwhelming majorities. Hence the Garrisonian abolitionists, opposed to all compromises, feltthat this was the opportune moment to rouse the people to the necessityof holding that party to its declared principles, and pushing it, ifpossible, a step or two forward. 

I was invited to accompany Miss Anthony and Beriah Green to a few pointsin Central New York. But we soon found, by the concerted action ofRepublicans all over the country, that anti-slavery conventions wouldnot be tolerated. Thus Republicans and Democrats made common causeagainst the abolitionists. The John Brown raid, the year before, hadintimidated Northern politicians as much as Southern slaveholders, andthe general feeling was that the discussion of the question at the Northshould be altogether suppressed. 

From Buffalo to Albany our experience was the same, varied only by thefertile resources of the actors and their surroundings. Thirty years ofeducation had somewhat changed the character of Northern mobs. They nolonger dragged men through the streets with ropes around their necks, nor broke up women's prayer meetings; they no longer threw eggs andbrickbats at the apostles of reform, nor dipped them in barrels of tarand feathers, they simply crowded the halls, and, with laughing, groaning, clapping, and cheering, effectually interrupted theproceedings. Such was our experience during the two days we attempted tohold a convention in St. James' Hall, Buffalo. As we paid for the hall, the mob enjoyed themselves, at our expense, in more ways than one. Everysession, at the appointed time, we took our places on the platform, making, at various intervals of silence, renewed efforts to speak. Notsucceeding, we sat and conversed with each other and the many friendswho crowded the platform and anterooms. Thus, among ourselves, we had apleasant reception and a discussion of many phases of the question thatbrought us together. The mob not only vouchsafed to us the privilege oftalking to our friends without interruption, but delegations of theirown came behind the scenes, from time to time, to discuss with us theright of free speech and the constitutionality of slavery. 

These Buffalo rowdies were headed by ex-Justice Hinson, aided by youngermembers of the Fillmore and Seymour families, and the chief of policeand fifty subordinates, who were admitted to the hall free, for theexpress purpose of protecting our right of free speech, but who, indefiance of the mayor's orders, made not the slightest effort in ourdefense. At Lockport there was a feeble attempt in the same direction. At Albion neither hall, church, nor schoolhouse could be obtained, so weheld small meetings in the dining room of the hotel. At Rochester, Corinthian Hall was packed long before the hour advertised. This was adelicately appreciative, jocose mob. At this point Aaron Powell joinedus. As he had just risen from a bed of sickness, looking pale andemaciated, he slowly mounted the platform. The mob at once took in hislook of exhaustion, and, as he seated himself, they gave an audiblesimultaneous sigh, as if to say, what a relief it is to be seated! Socompletely did the tender manifestation reflect Mr. Powell's apparentcondition that the whole audience burst into a roar of laughter. Here, too, all attempts to speak were futile. At Port Byron a generoussprinkling of cayenne pepper on the stove soon cut short allconstitutional arguments and paeans to liberty. 

And so it was all the way to Albany. The whole State was aflame with themob spirit, and from Boston and various points in other States the samenews reached us. As the legislature was in session, and we wereadvertised in Albany, a radical member sarcastically moved "That as Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony were about to move on Albany, the militia beordered out for the protection of the city. " Happily, Albany could thenboast of a Democratic mayor, a man of courage and conscience, who saidthe right of free speech should never be trodden under foot where he hadthe right to prevent it. And grandly did that one determined manmaintain order in his jurisdiction. Through all the sessions of theconvention Mayor Thatcher sat on the platform, his police stationed indifferent parts of the hall and outside the building, to disperse thecrowd as fast as it collected. If a man or boy hissed or made theslightest interruption, he was immediately ejected. And not only did themayor preserve order in the meetings, but, with a company of armedpolice, he escorted us, every time, to and from the Delevan House. Thelast night Gerrit Smith addressed the mob from the steps of the hotel, after which they gave him three cheers and dispersed in good order. 

When proposing for the Mayor a vote of thanks, at the close of theconvention, Mr. Smith expressed his fears that it had been a severeordeal for him to listen to these prolonged anti-slavery discussions. Hesmiled, and said: "I have really been deeply interested and instructed. I rather congratulate myself that a convention of this character has, atlast, come in the line of my business; otherwise I should have probablyremained in ignorance of many important facts and opinions I nowunderstand and appreciate. "

While all this was going on publicly, an equally trying experience wasprogressing, day by day, behind the scenes. Miss Anthony had beeninstrumental in helping a much abused mother, with her child, to escapefrom a husband who had immured her in an insane asylum. The wifebelonged to one of the first families of New York, her brother being aUnited States senator, and the husband, also, a man of position; a largecircle of friends and acquaintances was interested in the result. Thoughshe was incarcerated in an insane asylum for eighteen months, yetmembers of her own family again and again testified that she was notinsane. Miss Anthony, knowing that she was not, and believing fully thatthe unhappy mother was the victim of a conspiracy, would not reveal herhiding place. 

Knowing the confidence Miss Anthony felt in the wisdom of Mr. Garrisonand Mr. Phillips, they were implored to use their influence with her togive up the fugitives. Letters and telegrams, persuasions, arguments, and warnings from Mr. Garrison, Mr. Phillips, and the Senator on the oneside, and from Lydia Mott, Mrs. Elizabeth F. Ellet, and Abby HopperGibbons, on the other, poured in upon her, day after day; but MissAnthony remained immovable, although she knew that she was defying andviolating the law and might be arrested any moment on the platform. Wehad known so many aggravated cases of this kind that, in daily counsel, we resolved that this woman should not be recaptured if it were possibleto prevent it. To us it looked as imperative a duty to shield a sanemother, who had been torn from a family of little children and doomed tothe companionship of lunatics, and to aid her in fleeing to a place ofsafety, as to help a fugitive from slavery to Canada. In both cases anunjust law was violated; in both cases the supposed owners of thevictims were defied; hence, in point of law and morals, the act was thesame in both cases. The result proved the wisdom of Miss Anthony'sdecision, as all with whom Mrs. P. Came in contact for years afterward, expressed the opinion that she was, and always had been, perfectly sane. Could the dark secrets of insane asylums be brought to light we shouldbe shocked to know the great number of rebellious wives, sisters, anddaughters who are thus sacrificed to false customs and barbarous lawsmade by men for women. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

VIEWS ON MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 

The widespread discussion we are having, just now, on the subject ofmarriage and divorce, reminds me of an equally exciting one in 1860. Avery liberal bill, introduced into the Indiana legislature by RobertDale Owen, and which passed by a large majority, roused much publicthought on the question, and made that State free soil for unhappy wivesand husbands. A similar bill was introduced into the legislature of NewYork by Mr. Ramsey, which was defeated by four votes, owing, mainly, tothe intense opposition of Horace Greeley. He and Mr. Owen had aprolonged discussion, in the New York _Tribune_, in which Mr. Owen gotdecidedly the better of the argument. 

There had been several aggravated cases of cruelty to wives among theDutch aristocracy, so that strong influences in favor of the bill hadbeen brought to bear on the legislature, but the _Tribune_ thunderedevery morning in its editorial column its loudest peals, whichreverberated through the State. So bitter was the opposition to divorce, for any cause, that but few dared to take part in the discussion. I wasthe only woman, for many years, who wrote and spoke on the question. Articles on divorce, by a number of women, recently published in the_North American Review_, are a sign of progress, showing that women darespeak out now more freely on the relations that most deeply concernthem. 

My feelings had been stirred to their depths very early in life by thesufferings of a dear friend of mine, at whose wedding I was one of thebridesmaids. In listening to the facts in her case, my mind was fullymade up as to the wisdom of a liberal divorce law. We read Milton'sessays on divorce, together, and were thoroughly convinced as to theright and duty not only of separation, but of absolute divorce. Whilethe New York bill was pending, I was requested, by Lewis Benedict, oneof the committee who had the bill in charge, to address the legislature. I gladly accepted, feeling that here was an opportunity not only tosupport my friend in the step she had taken, but to make the path clearfor other unhappy wives who might desire to follow her example. I had nothought of the persecution I was drawing down on myself for thusattacking so venerable an institution. I was always courageous in sayingwhat I saw to be true, for the simple reason that I never dreamed ofopposition. What seemed to me to be right I thought must be equallyplain to all other rational beings. Hence I had no dread ofdenunciation. I was only surprised when I encountered it, and no numberof experiences have, as yet, taught me to fear public opinion. What Isaid on divorce thirty-seven years ago seems quite in line with whatmany say now. The trouble was not in what I said, but that I said it toosoon, and before the people were ready to hear it. It may be, however, that I helped them to get ready; who knows?

As we were holding a woman suffrage convention in Albany, at the timeappointed for the hearing, Ernestine L. Rose and Lucretia Mott brieflyadded their views on the question. Although Mrs. Mott had urged Mrs. Rose and myself to be as moderate as possible in our demands, she quiteunconsciously made the most radical utterance of all, in saying thatmarriage was a question beyond the realm of legislation, that must beleft to the parties themselves. We rallied Lucretia on her radicalism, and some of the journals criticised us severely; but the followingletter shows that she had no thought of receding from her position:

 "Roadside, near Philadelphia, "4th Mo. , 30th, '61. 

 "My Dear Lydia Mott:

 "I have wished, ever since parting with thee and our other dear friends in Albany, to send thee a line, and have only waited in the hope of contributing a little 'substantial aid' toward your neat and valuable 'depository. ' The twenty dollars inclosed is from our Female Anti-slavery Society. 

 "I see the annual meeting, in New York, is not to be held this spring. Sister Martha is here, and was expecting to attend both anniversaries. But we now think the woman's rights meeting had better not be attempted, and she has written Elizabeth C. Stanton to this effect. 

 "I was well satisfied with being at the Albany meeting. I have since met with the following, from a speech of Lord Brougham's, which pleased me, as being as radical as mine in your stately Hall of Representatives:

 "'Before women can have any justice by the laws of England, there must be a total reconstruction of the whole marriage system; for any attempt to amend it would prove useless. The great charter, in establishing the supremacy of law over prerogative, provides only for justice between man and man; for woman nothing is left but common law, accumulations and modifications of original Gothic and Roman heathenism, which no amount of filtration through ecclesiastical courts could change into Christian laws. They are declared unworthy a Christian people by great jurists; still they remain unchanged. '

 "So Elizabeth Stanton will see that I have authority for going to the root of the evil. 

 "Thine, "LUCRETIA MOTT. "

Those of us who met in Albany talked the matter over in regard to a freediscussion of the divorce question at the coming convention in New York. It was the opinion of those present that, as the laws on marriage anddivorce were very unequal for man and woman, this was a legitimatesubject for discussion on our platform; accordingly I presented a seriesof resolutions, at the annual convention, in New York city, to which Ispoke for over an hour. I was followed by Antoinette L, Brown, who alsopresented a series of resolutions in opposition to mine. She was, inturn, answered by Ernestine L. Rose. Wendell Phillips then arose, and, in an impressive manner pronounced the whole discussion irrelevant toour platform, and moved that neither the speeches nor resolutions go onthe records of the convention. As I greatly admired Wendell Phillips, and appreciated his good opinion, I was surprised and humiliated to findmyself under the ban of his disapprobation. My face was scarlet, and Itrembled with mingled feelings of doubt and fear--doubt as to thewisdom of my position and fear lest the convention should repudiate thewhole discussion. My emotion was so apparent that Rev. SamuelLongfellow, a brother of the poet, who sat beside me, whispered in myear, "Nevertheless you are right, and the convention will sustain you. "

Mr. Phillips said that as marriage concerned man and woman alike, andthe laws bore equally on them, women had no special ground forcomplaint, although, in my speech, I had quoted many laws to show thereverse. Mr. Garrison and Rev. Antoinette L. Brown were alike opposed toMr. Phillips' motion, and claimed that marriage and divorce werelegitimate subjects for discussion on our platform. Miss Anthony closedthe debate. She said: "I hope Mr. Phillips will withdraw his motion thatthese resolutions shall not appear on the records of the convention. Iam very sure that it would be contrary to all parliamentary usage to saythat, when the speeches which enforced and advocated the resolutions arereported and published in the proceedings, the resolutions shall not beplaced there. And as to the point that this question does not belong tothis platform--from that I totally dissent. Marriage has ever been aone-sided matter, resting most unequally upon the sexes. By it man gainsall; woman loses all; tyrant law and lust reign supreme with him; meeksubmission and ready obedience alone befit her. Woman has never beenconsulted; her wish has never been taken into consideration as regardsthe terms of the marriage compact. By law, public sentiment, andreligion, --from the time of Moses down to the present day, --woman hasnever been thought of other than as a piece of property, to be disposedof at the will and pleasure of man. And at this very hour, by ourstatute books, by our (so-called) enlightened Christian civilization, she has no voice whatever in saying what shall be the basis of therelation. She must accept marriage as man proffers it, or not at all. 

"And then, again, on Mr. Phillips' own ground, the discussion isperfectly in order, since nearly all the wrongs of which we complaingrow out of the inequality of the marriage laws, that rob the wife ofthe right to herself and her children; that make her the slave of theman she marries. I hope, therefore, the resolutions will be allowed togo out to the public; that there may be a fair report of the ideas whichhave actually been presented here; that they may not be left to themercy of the secular press, I trust the convention will not vote toforbid the publication of those resolutions with the proceedings. "

Rev. William Hoisington (the blind preacher) followed Miss Anthony, andsaid: "Publish all that you have done here, and let the public know it. "

The question was then put, on the motion of Mr. Phillips, and it waslost. 

As Mr. Greeley, in commenting on the convention, took the same groundwith Mr. Phillips, that the laws on marriage and divorce were equal forman and woman, I answered them in the following letter to the New York_Tribune_. 

 "_To the Editor of the New York Tribune_:

 "Sir: At our recent National Woman's Rights Convention many were surprised to hear Wendell Phillips object to the question of marriage and divorce as irrelevant to our platform. He said: 'We had no right to discuss here any laws or customs but those where inequality existed for the sexes; that the laws on marriage and divorce rested equally on man and woman; that he suffers, as much as she possibly could, the wrongs and abuses of an ill-assorted marriage. '

 "Now it must strike every careful thinker that an immense difference rests in the fact that man has made the laws cunningly and selfishly for his own purpose. From Coke down to Kent, who can cite one clause of the marriage contract where woman has the advantage? When man suffers from false legislation he has his remedy in his own hands. Shall woman be denied the right of protest against laws in which she had no voice; laws which outrage the holiest affections of her nature; laws which transcend the limits of human legislation, in a convention called for the express purpose of considering her wrongs? He might as well object to a protest against the injustice of hanging a woman, because capital punishment bears equally on man and woman. 

 "The contract of marriage is by no means equal. The law permits the girl to marry at twelve years of age, while it requires several years more of experience on the part of the boy. In entering this compact, the man gives up nothing that he before possessed, he is a man still; while the legal existence of the woman is suspended during marriage, and, henceforth, she is known but in and through the husband. She is nameless, purseless, childless--though a woman, an heiress, and a mother. 

 "Blackstone says: 'The husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband. ' Chancellor Kent, in his 'Commentaries' says: 'The legal effects of marriage are generally deducible from the principle of the common law, by which the husband and wife are regarded as one person, and her legal existence and authority lost or suspended during the continuance of the matrimonial union. '

 "The wife is regarded by all legal authorities as a _feme covert_, placed wholly _sub potestate viri_. Her moral responsibility, even, is merged in her husband. The law takes it for granted that the wife lives in fear of her husband; that his command is her highest law; hence a wife is not punishable for the theft committed in the presence of her husband. An unmarried woman can make contracts, sue and be sued, enjoy the rights of property, to her inheritance--to her wages--to her person--to her children; but, in marriage, she is robbed by law of all and every natural and civil right. Kent further says: 'The disability of the wife to contract, so as to bind herself, arises not from want of discretion, but because she has entered into an indissoluble connection by which she is placed under the power and protection of her husband. ' She is possessed of certain rights until she is married; then all are suspended, to revive, again, the moment the breath goes out of the husband's body. (See 'Cowen's Treatise, ' vol. 2, p. 709. )

 "If the contract be equal, whence come the terms 'marital power, ' 'marital rights, ' 'obedience and restraint, ' 'dominion and control, ' 'power and protection, ' etc. , etc. ? Many cases are stated, showing the exercise of a most questionable power over the wife, sustained by the courts. (See 'Bishop on Divorce, ' p. 489. )

 "The laws on divorce are quite as unequal as those on marriage; yea, far more so. The advantages seem to be all on one side and the penalties on the other. In case of divorce, if the husband be not the guilty party, the wife goes out of the partnership penniless. (Kent, vol. 2, p. 33; 'Bishop on Divorce, ' p. 492. )

 "In New York, and some other States, the wife of the guilty husband can now sue for a divorce in her own name, and the costs come out of the husband's estate; but, in the majority of the States, she is still compelled to sue in the name of another, as she has no means for paying costs, even though she may have brought her thousands into the partnership. 'The allowance to the innocent wife of _ad interim_ alimony and money to sustain the suit, is not regarded as a strict right in her, but of sound discretion in the court. ' ('Bishop on Divorce, ' p. 581. )

 "'Many jurists, ' says Kent, 'are of opinion that the adultery of the husband ought not to be noticed or made subject to the same animadversions as that of the wife, because it is not evidence of such entire depravity nor equally injurious in its effects upon the morals, good order, and happiness of the domestic life. Montesquieu, Pothier, and Dr. Taylor all insist that the cases of husband and wife ought to be distinguished, and that the violation of the marriage vow, on the part of the wife, is the most mischievous, and the prosecution ought to be confined to the offense on her part. ("Esprit des Lois, " tom. 3, 186; "Traité du Contrat de Mariage, " No. 516; "Elements of Civil Law, " p. 254). '

 "Say you, 'These are but the opinions of men'? On what else, I ask, are the hundreds of women depending, who, this hour, demand in our courts a release from burdensome contracts? Are not these delicate matters left wholly to the discretion of courts? Are not young women from the first families dragged into our courts, --into assemblies of men exclusively, --the judges all men, the jurors all men? No true woman there to shield them, by her presence, from gross and impertinent questionings, to pity their misfortunes, or to protest against their wrongs?

 "The administration of justice depends far more on the opinions of eminent jurists than on law alone, for law is powerless when at variance with public sentiment. 

 "Do not the above citations clearly prove inequality? Are not the very letter and spirit of the marriage contract based on the idea of the supremacy of man as the keeper of woman's virtue--her sole protector and support? Out of marriage, woman asks nothing, at this hour, but the elective franchise. It is only in marriage that she must demand her right to person, children, property, wages, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. How can we discuss all the laws and conditions of marriage, without perceiving its essential essence, end, and aim? Now, whether the institution of marriage be human or divine, whether regarded as indissoluble by ecclesiastical courts or dissoluble by civil courts, woman, finding herself equally degraded in each and every phase of it, always the victim of the institution, it is her right and her duty to sift the relation and the compact through and through, until she finds out the true cause of her false position. How can we go before the legislatures of our respective States and demand new laws, or no laws, on divorce, until we have some idea of what the true relation is?

 "We decide the whole question of slavery by settling the sacred rights of the individual. We assert that man cannot hold property in man, and reject the whole code of laws that conflicts with the self-evident truth of the assertion. 

 "Again, I ask, is it possible to discuss all the laws of a relation, and not touch the relation itself?

 "Yours respectfully, "Elizabeth Cady Stanton. "

The discussion on the question of marriage and divorce occupied oneentire session of the convention, and called down on us severecriticisms from the metropolitan and State press. So alarming were thecomments on what had been said that I began to feel that I hadinadvertently taken out the underpinning from the social system. Enemieswere unsparing in their denunciations, and friends ridiculed the wholeproceeding. I was constantly called on for a definition of marriage andasked to describe home life as it would be when men changed their wivesevery Christmas. Letters and newspapers poured in upon me, asking allmanner of absurd questions, until I often wept with vexation. So manythings, that I had neither thought nor said, were attributed to me that, at times, I really doubted my own identity. 

However, in the progress of events the excitement died away, the earthseemed to turn on its axis as usual, women were given in marriage, children were born, fires burned as brightly as ever at the domesticaltars, and family life, to all appearances, was as stable as usual. 

Public attention was again roused to this subject by theMcFarland-Richardson trial, in which the former shot the latter, beingjealous of his attentions to his wife. McFarland was a brutal, improvident husband, who had completely alienated his wife'saffections, while Mr. Richardson, who had long been a cherishedacquaintance of the family, befriended the wife in the darkest days ofher misery. She was a very refined, attractive woman, and a large circleof warm friends stood by her through the fierce ordeal of her husband'strial. 

Though McFarland did not deny that he killed Richardson, yet he wasacquitted on the plea of insanity, and was, at the same time, made thelegal guardian of his child, a boy, then, twelve years of age, andwalked out of the court with him, hand in hand. What a travesty onjustice and common sense that, while a man is declared too insane to beheld responsible for taking the life of another, he might still becapable of directing the life and education of a child! And what aninsult to that intelligent mother, who had devoted twelve years of herlife to his care, while his worthless father had not provided for themthe necessaries of life!

She married Mr. Richardson on his deathbed. The ceremony was performedby Henry Ward Beecher and Rev. O. B. Frothingham, while such men asHorace Greeley and Joshua Leavitt witnessed the solemn service. Thoughno shadow had ever dimmed Mrs. Richardson's fair fame, yet she wasrudely treated in the court and robbed of her child, though by far themost fitting parent to be intrusted with his care. 

As the indignation among women was general and at white heat with regardto her treatment, Miss Anthony suggested to me, one day, that it wouldbe a golden opportunity to give women a lesson on their helplessnessunder the law--wholly in the power of man as to their domesticrelations, as well as to their civil and political rights. Accordinglywe decided to hold some meetings, for women alone, to protest againstthe decision of this trial, the general conduct of the case, the tone ofthe press, and the laws that made it possible to rob a mother of herchild. 

Many ladies readily enlisted in the movement. I was invited to make thespeech on the occasion, and Miss Anthony arranged for two greatmeetings, one in Apollo Hall, New York city, and one in the Academy ofMusic, in Brooklyn. The result was all that we could desire. MissAnthony, with wonderful executive ability, made all the arrangements, taking on her own shoulders the whole financial responsibility. 

My latest thought on this question I gave in _The Arena_ of April, 1894, from which I quote the following:

 "There is a demand just now for an amendment to the United States Constitution that shall make the laws of marriage and divorce the same in all the States of the Union. As the suggestion comes uniformly from those who consider the present divorce laws too liberal, we may infer that the proposed national law is to place the whole question on a narrower basis, rendering null and void the laws that have been passed in a broader spirit, according to the needs and experiences, in certain sections, of the sovereign people. And here let us bear in mind that the widest possible law would not make divorce obligatory on anyone, while a restricted law, on the contrary, would compel many, marrying, perhaps, under more liberal laws, to remain in uncongenial relations. 

 "As we are still in the experimental stage on this question, we are not qualified to make a perfect law that would work satisfactorily over so vast an area as our boundaries now embrace. I see no evidence in what has been published on this question, of late, by statesmen, ecclesiastics, lawyers, and judges, that any of them have thought sufficiently on the subject to prepare a well-digested code, or a comprehensive amendment to the national Constitution. Some view it as a civil contract, though not governed by the laws of other contracts; some view it as a religious ordinance--a sacrament; some think it a relation to be regulated by the State, others by the Church, and still others think it should be left wholly to the individual. With this wide divergence of opinion among our leading minds, it is quite evident that we are not prepared for a national law. 

 "Moreover, as woman is the most important factor in the marriage relation, her enfranchisement is the primal step in deciding the basis of family life. Before public opinion on this question crystallizes into an amendment to the national Constitution, the wife and mother must have a voice in the governing power and must be heard, on this great problem, in the halls of legislation. 

 "There are many advantages in leaving all these questions, as now, to the States. Local self-government more readily permits of experiments on mooted questions, which are the outcome of the needs and convictions of the community. The smaller the area over which legislation extends, the more pliable are the laws. By leaving the States free to experiment in their local affairs, we can judge of the working of different laws under varying circumstances, and thus learn their comparative merits. The progress education has achieved in America is due to the fact that we have left our system of public instruction in the hands of local authorities. How different would be the solution of the great educational question of manual labor in the schools, if the matter had to be settled at Washington!

 "The whole nation might find itself pledged to a scheme that a few years would prove wholly impracticable. Not only is the town meeting, as Emerson says, 'the cradle of American liberties, ' but it is the nursery of Yankee experiment and wisdom. England, with its clumsy national code of education, making one inflexible standard of scholarship for the bright children of the manufacturing districts and the dull brains of the agricultural counties, should teach us a lesson as to the wisdom of keeping apart state and national government. 

 "Before we can decide the just grounds for divorce, we must get a clear idea of what constitutes marriage. In a true relation the chief object is the loving companionship of man and woman, their capacity for mutual help and happiness and for the development of all that is noblest in each other. The second object is the building up a home and family, a place of rest, peace, security, in which child-life can bud and blossom like flowers in the sunshine. 

 "The first step toward making the ideal the real, is to educate our sons and daughters into the most exalted ideas of the sacredness of married life and the responsibilities of parenthood. I would have them give, at least, as much thought to the creation of an immortal being as the artist gives to his landscape or statue. Watch him in his hours of solitude, communing with great Nature for days and weeks in all her changing moods, and when at last his dream of beauty is realized and takes a clearly defined form, behold how patiently he works through long months and years on sky and lake, on tree and flower; and when complete, it represents to him more love and life, more hope and ambition, than the living child at his side, to whose conception and antenatal development not one soulful thought was ever given. To this impressible period of human life, few parents give any thought; yet here we must begin to cultivate virtues that can alone redeem the world. 

 "The contradictory views in which woman is represented are as pitiful as varied. While the Magnificat to the Virgin is chanted in all our cathedrals round the globe on each returning Sabbath day, and her motherhood extolled by her worshipers, maternity for the rest of womankind is referred to as a weakness, a disability, a curse, an evidence of woman's divinely ordained subjection. Yet surely the real woman should have some points of resemblance in character and position with the ideal one, whom poets, novelists, and artists portray. 

 "It is folly to talk of the sacredness of marriage and maternity, while the wife is practically regarded as an inferior, a subject, a slave. Having decided that companionship and conscientious parenthood are the only true grounds for marriage, if the relation brings out the worst characteristics of each party, or if the home atmosphere is unwholesome for children, is not the very _raison d'être_ of the union wanting, and the marriage practically annulled? It cannot be called a holy relation, --no, not a desirable one, --when love and mutual respect are wanting. And let us bear in mind one other important fact: the lack of sympathy and content in the parents indicates radical physical unsuitability, which results in badly organized offspring. If, then, the real object of marriage is defeated, it is for the interest of the State, as well as the individual concerned, to see that all such pernicious unions be legally dissolved. Inasmuch, then, as incompatibility of temper defeats the two great objects of marriage, it should be the primal cause for divorce. 

 "The true standpoint from which to view this question is individual sovereignty, individual happiness. It is often said that the interests of society are paramount, and first to be considered. This was the Roman idea, the Pagan idea, that the individual was made for the State. The central idea of barbarism has ever been the family, the tribe, the nation--never the individual. But the great doctrine of Christianity is the right of individual conscience and judgment. The reason it took such a hold on the hearts of the people was because it taught that the individual was primary; the State, the Church, society, the family, secondary. However, a comprehensive view of any question of human interest, shows that the highest good and happiness of the individual and society lie in the same direction. 

 "The question of divorce, like marriage, should be settled, as to its most sacred relations, by the parties themselves; neither the State nor the Church having any right to intermeddle therein. As to property and children, it must be viewed and regulated as a civil contract. Then the union should be dissolved with at least as much deliberation and publicity as it was formed. There might be some ceremony and witnesses to add to the dignity and solemnity of the occasion. Like the Quaker marriage, which the parties conduct themselves, so, in this case, without any statement of their disagreements, the parties might simply declare that, after living together for several years, they found themselves unsuited to each other, and incapable of making a happy home. 

 "If divorce were made respectable, and recognized by society as a duty, as well as a right, reasonable men and women could arrange all the preliminaries, often, even, the division of property and guardianship of children, quite as satisfactorily as it could be done in the courts. Where the mother is capable of training the children, a sensible father would leave them to her care rather than place them in the hands of a stranger. 

 "But, where divorce is not respectable, men who have no paternal feeling will often hold the child, not so much for its good or his own affection, as to punish the wife for disgracing him. The love of children is not strong in most men, and they feel but little responsibility in regard to them. See how readily they turn off young sons to shift for themselves, and, unless the law compelled them to support their illegitimate children, they would never give them a second thought. But on the mother-soul rest forever the care and responsibility of human life. Her love for the child born out of wedlock is often intensified by the infinite pity she feels through its disgrace. Even among the lower animals we find the female ever brooding over the young and helpless. 

 "Limiting the causes of divorce to physical defects or delinquencies; making the proceedings public; prying into all the personal affairs of unhappy men and women; regarding the step as quasi criminal; punishing the guilty party in the suit; all this will not strengthen frail human nature, will not insure happy homes, will not banish scandals and purge society of prostitution. 

 "No, no; the enemy of marriage, of the State, of society is not liberal divorce laws, but the unhealthy atmosphere that exists in the home itself. A legislative act cannot make a unit of a divided family. "

CHAPTER XV. 

WOMEN AS PATRIOTS. 

On April 15, 1861, the President of the United States called outseventy-five thousand militia, and summoned Congress to meet July 4, when four hundred thousand men were called for, and four hundredmillions of dollars were voted to suppress the Rebellion. 

These startling events roused the entire people, and turned the currentof their thoughts in new directions. While the nation's life hung in thebalance, and the dread artillery of war drowned, alike, the voices ofcommerce, politics, religion, and reform, all hearts were filled withanxious forebodings, all hands were busy in solemn preparations for theawful tragedies to come. 

At this eventful hour the patriotism of woman shone forth as ferventlyand spontaneously as did that of man; and her self-sacrifice anddevotion were displayed in as many varied fields of action. While hebuckled on his knapsack and marched forth to conquer the enemy, sheplanned the campaigns which brought the nation victory; fought in theranks, when she could do so without detection; inspired the sanitarycommission; gathered needed supplies for the grand army; provided nursesfor the hospitals; comforted the sick; smoothed the pillows of thedying; inscribed the last messages of lave to those far away; and markedthe resting places where the brave men fell. The labor womenaccomplished, the hardships they endured, the time and strength theysacrificed in the War that summoned three million men to arms, can neverbe fully appreciated. 

Indeed, we may safely say that there is scarcely a loyal woman in theNorth who did not do something in aid of the cause; who did notcontribute time, labor, and money to the comfort of our soldiers and thesuccess of our arms. The story of the War will never be fully written ifthe achievements of women are left untold. They do not figure in theofficial reports; they are not gazetted for gallant deeds; the names ofthousands are unknown beyond the neighborhood where they lived, or thehospitals where they loved to labor; yet there is no feature in our Warmore creditable to us as a nation, none from its positive newness sowell worthy of record. 

While the mass of women never philosophize on the principles thatunderlie national existence, there were those in our late War whounderstood the political significance of the struggle; the"irrepressible conflict" between freedom and slavery, between Nationaland State rights. They saw that to provide lint, bandages, and suppliesfor the army, while the War was not conducted on a wise policy, was tolabor in vain; and while many organizations, active, vigilant, andself-sacrificing, were multiplied to look after the material wants ofthe army, these few formed themselves into a National Loyal League, toteach sound principles of government and to impress on the nation'sconscience that freedom for the slaves was the only way to victory. Accustomed, as most women had been to works of charity and to the reliefof outward suffering, it was difficult to rouse their enthusiasm for anidea, to persuade them to labor for a principle. They clamored forpractical work, something for their hands to do; for fairs and sewingsocieties to raise money for soldier's families, for tableaux, readings, theatricals--anything but conventions to discuss principles and tocirculate petitions for emancipation. They could not see that the bestservice they could render the army was to suppress the Rebellion, andthat the most effective way to accomplish that was to transform theslaves into soldiers. This Woman's Loyal League voiced the solemnlessons of the War: Liberty to all; national protection for everycitizen under our flag; universal suffrage, and universal amnesty. 

After consultation with Horace Greeley, William Lloyd Garrison, GovernorAndrews, and Robert Dale Owen, Miss Anthony and I decided to call ameeting of women in Cooper Institute and form a Woman's Loyal League, toadvocate the immediate emancipation and enfranchisement of the Southernslaves, as the most speedy way of ending the War, so we issued, in tractform, and extensively circulated the following call:

 "In this crisis of our country's destiny, it is the duty of every citizen to consider the peculiar blessings of a republican form of government, and decide what sacrifices of wealth and life are demanded for its defense and preservation. The policy of the War, our whole future life, depend on a clearly defined idea of the end proposed and the immense advantages to be secured to ourselves and all mankind by its accomplishment. No mere party or sectional cry, no technicalities of constitutional or military law, no mottoes of craft or policy are big enough to touch the great heart of a nation in the midst of revolution. A grand idea--such as freedom or justice--is needful to kindle and sustain the fires of a high enthusiasm. 

 "At this hour, the best word and work of every man and woman are imperatively demanded. To man, by common consent, are assigned the forum, camp, and field. What is woman's legitimate work and how she may best accomplish it, is worthy our earnest counsel one with another. We have heard many complaints of the lack of enthusiasm, among Northern women; but when a mother lays her son on the altar of her country, she asks an object equal to the sacrifice. In nursing the sick and wounded, knitting socks, scraping lint, and making jellies the bravest and best may weary if the thoughts mount not in faith to something beyond and above it all. Work is worship only when a noble purpose fills the soul. Woman is equally interested and responsible with man in the final settlement of this problem of self-government; therefore let none stand idle spectators now. When every hour is big with destiny, and each delay but complicates our difficulties, it is high time for the daughters of the Revolution, in solemn council, to unseal the last will and testaments of the fathers, lay hold of their birthright of freedom, and keep it a sacred trust for all coming generations. 

 "To this end we ask the Loyal Women of the Nation to meet in the Church of the Puritans (Dr. Cheever's), New York, on Thursday, the 14th of May next. 

 "Let the women of every State be largely represented in person or by letter. 

 "On behalf of the Woman's Central Committee, "Elizabeth Cady Stanton, "Susan B. Anthony. "

Among other resolutions adopted at the meeting were the following:

"_Resolved_, There never can be a true peace in this Republic until thecivil and political rights of all citizens of African descent and allwomen are practically established. 

"_Resolved_, That the women of the Revolution were not wanting inheroism and self-sacrifice, and we, their daughters, are ready, in thisWar, to pledge our time, our means, our talents, and our lives, if needbe, to secure the final and complete consecration of America tofreedom. "

It was agreed that the practical work to be done to secure freedom forthe slaves was to circulate petitions through all the Northern States. For months these petitions were circulated diligently everywhere, as thesignatures show--some signed on fence posts, plows, the anvil, theshoemaker's bench--by women of fashion and those in the industries, alike in the parlor and the kitchen; by statesmen, professors incolleges, editors, bishops; by sailors, and soldiers, and thehard-handed children of toil, building railroads and bridges, anddigging canals, and in mines in the bowels of the earth. Petitions, signed by three hundred thousand persons, can now be seen in thenational archives in the Capitol at Washington. Three of my sons spentweeks in our office in Cooper Institute, rolling up the petitions fromeach State separately, and inscribing on the outside the number of namesof men and women contained therein. We sent appeals to the President theHouse of Representatives, and the Senate, from time to time, urgingemancipation and the passage of the proposed Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Amendments to the National Constitution. During theseeventful months we received many letters from Senator Sumner, saying, "Send on the petitions as fast as received; they give me opportunitiesfor speech. "

Robert Dale Owen, chairman of the Freedman's Commission, was mostenthusiastic in the work of the Loyal League, and came to our roomsfrequently to suggest new modes of agitation and to give us an inklingof what was going on behind the scenes in Washington. Those who had beenspecially engaged in the Woman Suffrage movement suspended theirconventions during the war, and gave their time and thought wholly tothe vital issues of the hour. Seeing the political significance of thewar, they urged the emancipation of the slaves as the sure, quick way ofcutting the Gordian knot of the Rebellion. To this end they organized anational league, and rolled up a mammoth petition, urging Congress so toamend the Constitution as to prohibit the existence of slavery in theUnited States. From their headquarters in Cooper Institute, New Yorkcity, they sent out the appeals to the President, Congress, and thepeople at large; tracts and forms of petition, franked by members ofCongress, were scattered like snowflakes from Maine to Texas. Meetingswere held every week, in which the policy of the Government was freelydiscussed, and approved or condemned. 

That this League did a timely educational work is manifested by theletters received from generals, statesmen, editors, and from women inmost of the Northern States, fully indorsing its action and principles. The clearness to thinking women of the cause of the War; the truepolicy in waging it; their steadfastness in maintaining the principlesof freedom, are worthy of consideration. With this League abolitionistsand Republicans heartily co-operated. A course of lectures was deliveredfor its benefit in Cooper Institute, by such men as Horace Greeley, George William Curtis, William D. Kelly, Wendell Phillips, E. P. Whipple, Frederick Douglass, Theodore D. Weld, Rev. Dr. Tyng, and Dr. Bellows. Many letters are on its files from Charles Sumner, approving itsmeasures, and expressing great satisfaction at the large number ofemancipation petitions being rolled into Congress. The Republican press, too, was highly complimentary. The New York Tribune said: "The women ofthe Loyal League have shown great practical wisdom in restricting theirefforts to one subject, the most important which any society can aim atin this hour, and great courage in undertaking to do what never has beendone in the world before, to obtain one million of names to a petition. "

The leading journals vied with each other in praising the patience andprudence, the executive ability, the loyalty, and the patriotism of thewomen of the League, and yet these were the same women who, whendemanding civil and political rights, privileges, and immunities forthemselves, had been uniformly denounced as "unwise, " "imprudent, ""fanatical, " and "impracticable. " During the six years they held theirown claims in abeyance to those of the slaves of the South, and laboredto inspire the people with enthusiasm for the great measures of theRepublican party, they were highly honored as "wise, loyal, andclear-sighted. " But when the slaves were emancipated, and these womenasked that they should be recognized in the reconstruction as citizensof the Republic, equal before the law, all these transcendent virtuesvanished like dew before the morning sun. And thus it ever is: so longas woman labors to second man's endeavors and exalt his sex above herown, her virtues pass unquestioned; but when she dares to demand rightsand privileges for herself, her motives, manners, dress, personalappearance, and character are subjects for ridicule and detraction. 

Liberty, victorious over slavery on the battlefield, had now morepowerful enemies to encounter at Washington. The slaves set free, themaster conquered, the South desolate; the two races standing face toface, sharing alike the sad results of war, turned with appealing looksto the general government, as if to say, "How stand we now?" "Whatnext?" Questions our statesmen, beset with dangers, with fears for thenation's life, of party divisions, of personal defeat, were whollyunprepared to answer. The reconstruction of the South involved thereconsideration of the fundamental principles of our Government and thenatural rights of man. The nation's heart was thrilled with prolongeddebates in Congress and State legislatures, in the pulpits and publicjournals, and at every fireside on these vital questions, which tookfinal shape in the three historic amendments to the Constitution. 

The first point, his emancipation, settled, the political status of thenegro was next in order; and to this end various propositions weresubmitted to Congress. But to demand his enfranchisement on the broadprinciple of natural rights was hedged about with difficulties, as thelogical result of such action must be the enfranchisement of allostracized classes; not only the white women of the entire country, butthe slave women of the South. Though our senators and representativeshad an honest aversion to any proscriptive legislation against loyalwomen, in view of their varied and self-sacrificing work during the War, yet the only way they could open the constitutional door just wideenough to let the black man pass in was to introduce the word "male"into the national Constitution. After the generous devotion of suchwomen as Anna Carroll and Anna Dickinson in sustaining the policy of theRepublicans, both in peace and war, they felt it would come with a badgrace from that party to place new barriers in woman's path to freedom. But how could the amendment be written without the word "male, " was thequestion. 

Robert Dale Owen being at Washington, and behind the scenes at the time, sent copies of the various bills to the officers of the Loyal League, inNew York, and related to us some of the amusing discussions. One of thecommittee proposed "persons" instead of "males. " "That will never do, "said another, "it would enfranchise wenches. " "Suffrage for black menwill be all the strain the Republican party can stand, " said another. Charles Sumner said, years afterward, that he wrote over nineteen pagesof foolscap to get rid of the word "male" and yet keep "negro suffrage"as a party measure intact; but it could not be done. 

Miss Anthony and I were the first to see the full significance of theword "male" in the Fourteenth Amendment, and we at once sounded thealarm, and sent out petitions for a constitutional amendment to"prohibit the States from disfranchising any of their citizens on theground of sex. " Miss Anthony, who had spent the year in Kansas, startedfor New York the moment she saw the proposition before Congress to putthe word "male" into the national Constitution, and made haste to rousethe women in the East to the fact that the time had come to beginvigorous work again for woman's enfranchisement. 

Leaving Rochester, October 11, she called on Martha Wright at Auburn;Phebe Jones and Lydia Mott at Albany; Mmes. Rose, Gibbons, Davis, at NewYork city; Lucy Stone and Antoinette Brown Blackwell in New Jersey;Stephen and Abby Foster at Worcester; Mmes. Severance, Dall, Nowell, Dr. Harriet K. Hunt, Dr. M. E. Zackesewska, and Messrs. Phillips and Garrisonin Boston, urging them to join in sending protests to Washington againstthe pending legislation. Mr. Phillips at once consented to devote fivehundred dollars from the "Jackson Fund" to commence the work. MissAnthony and I spent all our Christmas holidays in writing letters andaddressing appeals and petitions to every part of the country, and, before the close of the session of 1865-66, petitions with ten thousandsignatures were poured into Congress. 

One of my letters was as follows:

 "_To the Editor of the Standard_:

 "Sir: Mr. Broomall of Pennsylvania, Mr. Schenck of Ohio, Mr. Jenckes of Rhode Island, and Mr. Stevens of Pennsylvania, have each a resolution before Congress to amend the Constitution. 

 "Article First, Section Second, reads thus: 'Representatives and direct taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective numbers. '

 "Mr. Broomall proposes to amend by saying, 'male electors'; Mr. Schenck, 'male citizens'; Mr. Jenckes, 'male citizens'; Mr. Stevens, 'male voters, ' as, in process of time, women may be made 'legal voters' in the several States, and would then meet that requirement of the Constitution. But those urged by the other gentlemen, neither time, effort, nor State Constitutions could enable us to meet, unless, by a liberal interpretation of the amendment, a coat of mail to be worn at the polls might be judged all-sufficient. Mr. Jenckes and Mr. Schenck, in their bills, have the grace not to say a word about taxes, remembering, perhaps, that 'taxation without representation is tyranny. ' But Mr. Broomall, though unwilling that we should share in the honors of government, would fain secure us a place in its burdens; for, while he apportions representatives to "male electors" only, he admits "all the inhabitants" into the rights, privileges, and immunities of taxation. Magnanimous M. C. !

 "I would call the attention of the women of the nation to the fact that, under the Federal Constitution, as it now exists, there is not one word that limits the right of suffrage to any privileged class. This attempt to turn the wheels of civilization backward, on the part of Republicans claiming to be the liberal party, should rouse every woman in the nation to a prompt exercise of the only right she has in the Government, the right of petition. To this end a committee in New York have sent out thousands of petitions, which should be circulated in every district and sent to its representative at Washington as soon as possible. 

 "Elizabeth Cady Stanton. 

 "New York, January 2, 1866. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

PIONEER LIFE IN KANSAS--OUR NEWSPAPER, "THE REVOLUTION. "

In 1867 the proposition to extend the suffrage to women and to coloredmen was submitted to the people of the State of Kansas, and, among otherEastern speakers, I was invited to make a campaign through the State. Asthe fall elections were pending, there was great excitement everywhere. Suffrage for colored men was a Republican measure, which the press andpoliticians of that party advocated with enthusiasm. 

As woman suffrage was not a party question, we hoped that all partieswould favor the measure; that we might, at last, have one green spot onearth where women could enjoy full liberty as citizens of the UnitedStates. Accordingly, in July, Miss Anthony and I started, with highhopes of a most successful trip, and, after an uneventful journey of onethousand five hundred miles, we reached the sacred soil where John Brownand his sons had helped to fight the battles that made Kansas a freeState. 

Lucy Stone, Mr. Blackwell, and Olympia Brown had preceded us and openedthe campaign with large meetings in all the chief cities. Miss Anthonyand I did the same. Then it was decided that, as we were to go to thevery borders of the State, where there were no railroads, we must takecarriages, and economize our forces by taking different routes. I wasescorted by ex-Governor Charles Robinson. We had a low, easy carriage, drawn by two mules, in which we stored about a bushel of tracts, twovalises, a pail for watering the mules, a basket of apples, crackers, and other such refreshments as we could purchase on the way. Some thingswere suspended underneath the carriage, some packed on behind, and someunder the seat and at our feet. It required great skill to compress thenecessary baggage into the allotted space. As we went to the very vergeof civilization, wherever two dozen voters could be assembled, we had ataste of pioneer life. We spoke in log cabins, in depots, unfinishedschoolhouses, churches, hotels, barns, and in the open air. 

I spoke in a large mill one night. A solitary tallow candle shone overmy head like a halo of glory; a few lanterns around the outskirts of theaudience made the darkness perceptible; but all I could see of myaudience was the whites of their eyes in the dim distance. People camefrom twenty miles around to these meetings, held either in the morning, afternoon, or evening, as was most convenient. 

As the regular State election was to take place in the coming November, the interest increased from week to week, until the excitement of thepeople knew no bounds. There were speakers for and against everyproposition before the people. This involved frequent debates on all thegeneral principles of government, and thus a great educational work wasaccomplished, which is one of the advantages of our frequent elections. 

The friends of woman suffrage were doomed to disappointment. Those inthe East, on whom they relied for influence through the liberalnewspapers, were silent, and we learned, afterward, that they used whatinfluence they had to keep the abolitionists and Republicans of theState silent, as they feared the discussion of the woman question wouldjeopardize the enfranchisement of the black man. However, we workeduntiringly and hopefully, not seeing through the game of the politiciansuntil nearly the end of the canvass, when we saw that our only chancewas in getting the Democratic vote. Accordingly, George Francis Train, then a most effective and popular speaker, was invited into the State tosee what could be done to win the Democracy. He soon turned the tide, strengthened the weak-kneed Republicans and abolitionists, and secured alarge Democratic vote. 

For three months we labored diligently, day after day, enduring allmanner of discomforts in traveling, eating, and sleeping. As there wereno roads or guide-posts, we often lost our way. In going through cañonsand fording streams it was often so dark that the Governor was obligedto walk ahead to find the way, taking off his coat so that I could seehis white shirt and slowly drive after him. Though seemingly calm andcool, I had a great dread of these night adventures, as I was inconstant fear of being upset on some hill and rolled into the water. TheGovernor often complimented me on my courage, when I was fully aware ofbeing tempest-tossed with anxiety. I am naturally very timid, but, beingsilent under strong emotions of either pleasure or pain, I am creditedwith being courageous in the hour of danger. 

For days, sometimes, we could find nothing at a public table that wecould eat. Then passing through a little settlement we could buy driedherring, crackers, gum arabic, and slippery elm; the latter, we weretold, was very nutritious. We frequently sat down to a table with baconfloating in grease, coffee without milk, sweetened with sorghum, andbread or hot biscuit, green with soda, while vegetables and fruit wereseldom seen. Our nights were miserable, owing to the general opinionamong pioneers that a certain species of insect must necessarilyperambulate the beds in a young civilization. One night, after travelingover prairies all day, eating nothing but what our larder provided, wesaw a light in a cottage in the distance which seemed to beckon to us. Arriving, we asked the usual question, --if we could get a night'slodging, --to which the response was inevitably a hearty, hospitable"Yes. " One survey of the premises showed me what to look for in the wayof midnight companionship, so I said to the Governor, "I will resign inyour favor the comforts provided for me to-night, and sleep in thecarriage, as you do so often. " I persisted against all the earnestpersuasions of our host, and in due time I was ensconced for the night, and all about the house was silent. 

I had just fallen into a gentle slumber, when a chorus of pronouncedgrunts and a spasmodic shaking of the carriage revealed to me the factthat I was surrounded by those long-nosed black pigs, so celebrated fortheir courage and pertinacity. They had discovered that the iron stepsof the carriage made most satisfactory scratching posts, and each onewas struggling for his turn. This scratching suggested fleas. Alas!thought I, before morning I shall be devoured. I was mortally tired andsleepy, but I reached for the whip and plied it lazily from side toside; but I soon found nothing but a constant and most vigorousapplication of the whip could hold them at bay one moment. I had heardthat this type of pig was very combative when thwarted in its desires, and they seemed in such sore need of relief that I thought there wasdanger of their jumping into the carriage and attacking me. This thoughtwas more terrifying than that of the fleas, so I decided to go to sleepand let them alone to scratch at their pleasure. I had a sad night ofit, and never tried the carriage again, though I had many equallymiserable experiences within four walls. 

After one of these border meetings we stopped another night with afamily of two bachelor brothers and two spinster sisters. The homeconsisted of one large room, not yet lathed and plastered. The furnitureincluded a cooking stove, two double beds in remote corners, a table, abureau, a washstand, and six wooden chairs. As it was late, there was nofire in the stove and no suggestion of supper, so the Governor and I ateapples and chewed slippery elm before retiring to dream of comfortablebeds and well-spread tables in the near future. 

The brothers resigned their bed to me just as it was. I had noticed thatthere was no ceremonious changing of bed linen under such circumstances, so I had learned to nip all fastidious notions of individual cleanlinessin the bud, and to accept the inevitable. When the time arrived forretiring, the Governor and the brothers went out to make astronomicalobservations or smoke, as the case might be, while the sisters and Imade our evening toilet, and disposed ourselves in the allotted corners. That done, the stalwart sons of Adam made their beds with skins andblankets on the floor. When all was still and darkness reigned, Ireviewed the situation with a heavy heart, seeing that I was bound toremain a prisoner in the corner all night, come what might. I had justcongratulated myself on my power of adaptability to circumstances, whenI suddenly started with an emphatic "What is that?" A voice from thecorner asked, "Is your bed comfortable?" "Oh, yes, " I replied, "but Ithought I felt a mouse run over my head. " "Well, " said the voice fromthe corner, "I should not wonder. I have heard such squeaking from thatcorner during the past week that I told sister there must be a mousenest in that bed. " A confession she probably would not have made unlesshalf asleep. This announcement was greeted with suppressed laughter fromthe floor. But it was no laughing matter to me. Alas! what aprospect--to have mice running over one all night. But there was noescape. The sisters did not offer to make any explorations, and, in myfatigue costume, I could not light a candle and make any on my ownaccount. The house did not afford an armchair in which I could sit up. Icould not lie on the floor, and the other bed was occupied. Fortunately, I was very tired and soon fell asleep. What the mice did the remainderof the night I never knew, so deep were my slumbers. But, as my featureswere intact, and my facial expression as benign as usual next morning, Iinferred that their gambols had been most innocently and decorouslyconducted. These are samples of many similar experiences which weencountered during the three months of those eventful travels. 

Heretofore my idea had been that pioneer life was a period of romanticfreedom. When the long, white-covered wagons, bound for the far West, passed by, I thought of the novelty of a six-months' journey throughthe bright spring and summer days in a house on wheels, meals undershady trees and beside babbling brooks, sleeping in the open air, andfinding a home, at last, where land was cheap, the soil rich and deep, and where the grains, vegetables, fruit, and flowers grew bountifullywith but little toil. But a few months of pioneer life permanentlydarkened my rosy ideal of the white-covered wagon, the charming picnicsby the way, and the paradise at last. I found many of these adventurersin unfinished houses and racked with malaria; in one case I saw a familyof eight, all ill with chills and fever. The house was half a mile fromthe spring water on which they depended and from which those best able, from day to day, carried the needed elixir to others suffering with theusual thirst. Their narrations of all the trials of the long journeywere indeed heartrending. 

In one case a family of twelve left their comfortable farm in Illinois, much against the earnest protests of the mother; she having tenchildren, the youngest a baby then in her arms. All their earthlypossessions were stored in three wagons, and the farm which the motherowned was sold before they commenced their long and perilous journey. There was no reason for going except that the husband had the Westernfever. They were doing well in Illinois, on a large farm within twomiles of a village, but he had visions of a bonanza near the settingsun. Accordingly they started. At the end of one month the baby died. Apiece of wood from the cradle was all they had to mark its lonelyresting place. With sad hearts they went on, and, in a few weeks, withgrief for her child, her old home, her kindred and friends, the motheralso died. She, too, was left alone on the far-off prairies, and the sadpageant moved on. Another child soon shared the same fate, and then aspan of horses died, and one wagon, with all the things they could mosteasily spare, was abandoned. Arrived at their destination none of thegolden dreams was realized. The expensive journey, the struggles instarting under new circumstances, and the loss of the mother's thriftand management, made the father so discouraged and reckless that much ofhis property was wasted, and his earthly career was soon ended. Throughthe heroic energy and good management of the eldest daughter, the littlepatrimony, in time, was doubled, and the children well brought up andeducated in the rudiments of learning, so that all became respectablemembers of society. Her advice to all young people is, if you arecomfortably established in the East, stay there. There is no royal roadto wealth and ease, even in the Western States!

In spite of the discomforts we suffered in the Kansas campaign, I wasglad of the experience. It gave me added self-respect to know that Icould endure such hardships and fatigue with a great degree ofcheerfulness. The Governor and I often laughed heartily, as we patientlychewed our gum arabic and slippery elm, to think on what a gentlestimulus we were accomplishing such wonderful feats as orators andtravelers. It was fortunate our intense enthusiasm for the subject gaveus all the necessary inspiration, as the supplies we gathered by the waywere by no means sufficiently invigorating for prolonged propagandism. 

I enjoyed these daily drives over the vast prairies, listening to theGovernor's descriptions of the early days when the "bushwhackers andjayhawkers" made their raids on the inhabitants of the young free State. The courage and endurance of the women, surrounded by dangers anddiscomforts, surpassed all description. I count it a great privilege tohave made the acquaintance of so many noble women and men who had passedthrough such scenes and conquered such difficulties. They seemed to livein an atmosphere altogether beyond their surroundings. Many educatedfamilies from New England, disappointed in not finding the much talkedof bonanzas, were living in log cabins, in solitary places, miles fromany neighbors. But I found Emerson, Parker, Holmes, Hawthorne, Whittier, and Lowell on their bookshelves to gladden their leisure hours. 

Miss Anthony and I often comforted ourselves mid adverse winds withmemories of the short time we spent under Mother Bickerdyke's hospitableroof at Salina. There we had clean, comfortable beds, delicious viands, and everything was exquisitely neat. She entertained us with herreminiscences of the War. With great self-denial she had served hercountry in camp and hospital, and was with Sherman's army in thatwonderful march to the sea, and here we found her on the outpost ofcivilization, determined to start what Kansas most needed--a good hotel. But alas! it was too good for that latitude and proved a financialfailure. It was, to us, an oasis in the desert, where we would gladlyhave lingered if the opposition would have come to us for conversion. But, as we had to carry the gospel of woman's equality into the highwaysand hedges, we left dear Mother Bickerdyke with profound regret. Theseed sown in Kansas in 1867 is now bearing its legitimate fruits. Therewas not a county in the State where meetings were not held or tractsscattered with a generous hand. If the friends of our cause in the Easthad been true and had done for woman what they did for the colored man, I believe both propositions would have been carried; but with a narrowpolicy, playing off one against the other, both were defeated. A policyof injustice always bears its own legitimate fruit in failure. 

However, women learned one important lesson--namely, that it isimpossible for the best of men to understand women's feelings or thehumiliation of their position. When they asked us to be silent on ourquestion during the War, and labor for the emancipation of the slave, wedid so, and gave five years to his emancipation and enfranchisement. Tothis proposition my friend, Susan B. Anthony, never consented, but wascompelled to yield because no one stood with her. I was convinced, atthe time, that it was the true policy. I am now equally sure that it wasa blunder, and, ever since, I have taken my beloved Susan's judgmentagainst the world. I have always found that, when we see eye to eye, weare sure to be right, and when we pull together we are strong. After wediscuss any point together and fully agree, our faith in our unitedjudgment is immovable and no amount of ridicule and opposition has theslightest influence, come from what quarter it may. 

Together we withstood the Republicans and abolitionists, when, a secondtime, they made us the most solemn promises of earnest labor for ourenfranchisement, when the slaves were safe beyond a peradventure. Theynever redeemed their promise made during the War, hence, when theyurged us to silence in the Kansas campaign, we would not for a momententertain the proposition. The women generally awoke to their duty tothemselves. They had been deceived once and could not be again. If theleaders in the Republican and abolition camps could deceive us, whomcould we trust?

Again we were urged to be silent on our rights, when the proposition totake the word "white" out of the New York Constitution was submitted toa vote of the people of the State, or, rather, to one-half the people, as women had no voice in the matter. Again we said "No, no, gentlemen!if the 'white' comes out of the Constitution, let the 'male' come outalso. Women have stood with the negro, thus far, on equal ground asostracized classes, outside the political paradise; and now, when thedoor is open, it is but fair that we both should enter and enjoy all thefruits of citizenship. Heretofore ranked with idiots, lunatics, andcriminals in the Constitution, the negro has been the only respectablecompeer we had; so pray do not separate us now for another twenty years, ere the constitutional door will again be opened. "

We were persistently urged to give all our efforts to get the word"white" out, and thus secure the enfranchisement of the colored man, asthat, they said, would prepare the way for us to follow. Several editorsthreatened that, unless we did so, their papers should henceforth dotheir best to defeat every measure we proposed. But we were deaf aliketo persuasions and threats, thinking it wiser to labor for women, constituting, as they did, half the people of the State, rather than fora small number of colored men; who, viewing all things from the samestandpoint as white men, would be an added power against us. 

The question settled in Kansas, we returned, with George Francis Train, to New York. He offered to pay all the expenses of the journey andmeetings in all the chief cities on the way, and see that we were fullyand well reported in their respective journals. After prolongedconsultation Miss Anthony and I thought best to accept the offer and wedid so. Most of our friends thought it a grave blunder, but the resultproved otherwise. Mr. Train was then in his prime--a large, fine-lookingman, a gentleman in dress and manner, neither smoking, chewing, drinking, nor gormandizing. He was an effective speaker and actor, asone of his speeches, which he illustrated, imitating the poor wife atthe washtub and the drunken husband reeling in, fully showed. He gavehis audience charcoal sketches of everyday life rather than argument. Healways pleased popular audiences, and even the most fastidious wereamused with his caricatures. As the newspapers gave several columns toour meetings at every point through all the States, the agitation waswidespread and of great value. To be sure our friends, on all sides, fell off, and those especially who wished us to be silent on thequestion of woman's rights, declared "the cause too sacred to beadvocated by such a charlatan as George Francis Train. " We thoughtotherwise, as the accession of Mr. Train increased the agitationtwofold. If these fastidious ladies and gentlemen had come out to Kansasand occupied the ground and provided "the sinews of war, " there wouldhave been no field for Mr. Train's labors, and we should have acceptedtheir services. But, as the ground was unoccupied, he had, at least, the right of a reform "squatter" to cultivate the cardinal virtues andreap a moral harvest wherever he could. 

Reaching New York, Mr. Train made it possible for us to establish anewspaper, which gave another impetus to our movement. The _Revolution_, published by Susan B. Anthony and edited by Parker Pillsbury and myself, lived two years and a half and was then consolidated with the New York_Christian Enquirer_, edited by the Rev. Henry Bellows, D. D. I regardthe brief period in which I edited the _Revolution_ as one of thehappiest of my life, and I may add the most useful. In looking over theeditorials I find but one that I sincerely regret, and that was a retorton Mr. Garrison, written under great provocation, but not by me, whichcircumstances, at the time, forbade me to disown. Considering thepressure brought to bear on Miss Anthony and myself, I feel now that ourpatience and forbearance with our enemies in their malignant attacks onour good, name, which we never answered, were indeed marvelous. 

We said at all times and on all other subjects just what we thought, andadvertised nothing that we did not believe in. No advertisements ofquack remedies appeared in our columns. One of our clerks once publisheda bread powder advertisement, which I did not see until the paperappeared; so, in the next number, I said, editorially, what I thought ofit. I was alone in the office, one day, when a man blustered in. "Who, "said he, "runs this concern?" "You will find the names of the editorsand publishers, " I replied, "on the editorial page. " "Are you one ofthem?" "I am, " I replied. "Well, do you know that I agreed to paytwenty dollars to have that bread powder advertised for one month, andthen you condemn it editorially?" "I have nothing to do with theadvertising; Miss Anthony pays me to say what I think. " "Have you anymore thoughts to publish on that bread powder?" "Oh, yes, " I replied, "Ihave not exhausted the subject yet. " "Then, " said he, "I will have theadvertisement taken out. What is there to pay for the one insertion?""Oh, nothing, " I replied, "as the editorial probably did you more injurythan the advertisement did you good. " On leaving, with prophetic vision, he said, "I prophesy a short life for this paper; the business world isbased on quackery, and you cannot live without it. " With melancholycertainty, I replied, "I fear you are right. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

LYCEUMS AND LECTURERS. 

The Lyceum Bureau was, at one time, a great feature in American life. The three leading bureaus were in Boston, New York, and Chicago. Themanagers, map in hand, would lay out trips, more or less extensiveaccording to the capacity or will of the speakers, and then, with adozen or more victims in hand, make arrangements with the committees invarious towns and cities to set them all in motion. As the managers ofthe bureaus had ten per cent. Of what the speakers made, it was to theirinterest to keep the time well filled. Hence the engagements were madewithout the slightest reference to the comfort of the travelers. Withour immense distances, it was often necessary to travel night and day, sometimes changing cars at midnight, and perhaps arriving at thedestination half an hour or less before going on the platform, andstarting again on the journey immediately upon leaving it. The route wasalways carefully written out, giving the time the trains started fromand arrived at various points; but as cross trains often failed toconnect, one traveled, guidebook in hand, in a constant fever ofanxiety. As, in the early days, the fees were from one to two hundreddollars a night, the speakers themselves were desirous of accomplishingas much as possible. 

In 1869 I gave my name, for the first time, to the New York Bureau, andon November 14 began the long, weary pilgrimages, from Maine to Texas, that lasted twelve years; speaking steadily for eight months--fromOctober to June--every season. That was the heyday of the lecturingperiod, when a long list of bright men and women were constantly on thewing. Anna Dickinson, Olive Logan, Kate Field, --later, Mrs. Livermoreand Mrs. Howe, Alcott, Phillips, Douglass, Tilton, Curtis, Beecher, and, several years later, General Kilpatrick, with Henry Vincent, Bradlaugh, and Matthew Arnold from England; these and many others were stars of thelecture platform. 

Some of us occasionally managed to spend Sunday together, at a goodhotel in some city, to rest and feast and talk over our joys andsorrows, the long journeys, the hard fare in the country hotels, therainy nights when committees felt blue and tried to cut down our fees;the being compelled by inconsiderate people to talk on the train; theoverheated, badly ventilated cars; the halls, sometimes too warm, sometimes too cold; babies crying in our audiences; the rain patteringon the roof overhead or leaking on the platform--these were commonexperiences. In the West, women with babies uniformly occupied the frontseats so that the little ones, not understanding what you said, might beamused with your gestures and changing facial expression. All thesethings, so trying, at the time, to concentrated and enthusiasticspeaking, afterward served as subjects of amusing conversation. Weunanimously complained of the tea and coffee. Mrs. Livermore had thewisdom to carry a spirit lamp with her own tea and coffee, and thussupplied herself with the needed stimulants for her oratoricalefforts. The hardships of these lyceum trips can never be appreciatedexcept by those who have endured them. With accidents to cars andbridges, with floods and snow blockades, the pitfalls in one of thesecampaigns were without number. 

[Illustration: ELIZABETH SMITH MILLER. ] [Illustration]

On one occasion, when engaged to speak at Maquoketa, Iowa, I arrived atLyons about noon, to find the road was blocked with snow, and no chanceof the cars running for days. "Well, " said I to the landlord, "I must beat Maquoketa at eight o'clock to-night; have you a sleigh, a span offleet horses, and a skillful driver? If so, I will go across thecountry. " "Oh, yes, madam!" he replied, "I have all you ask; but youcould not stand a six-hours' drive in this piercing wind. " Having livedin a region of snow, with the thermometer down to twenty degrees belowzero, I had no fears of winds and drifts, so I said, "Get the sleighready and I will try it. " Accordingly I telegraphed the committee that Iwould be there, and started. I was well bundled up in a fur cloak andhood, a hot oak plank at my feet, and a thick veil over my head andface. As the landlord gave the finishing touch, by throwing a largebuffalo robe over all and tying the two tails together at the back of myhead and thus effectually preventing me putting my hand to my nose, hesaid, "There, if you can only sit perfectly still, you will come out allright at Maquoketa; that is, if you get there, which I very much doubt. "It was a long, hard drive against the wind and through drifts, but Iscarcely moved a finger, and, as the clock struck eight, we drove intothe town. The hall was warm, and the church bell having announced myarrival, a large audience was assembled. As I learned that all the roadsin Northern Iowa were blocked, I made the entire circuit, from point topoint, in a sleigh, traveling forty and fifty miles a day. 

At the Sherman House, in Chicago, three weeks later, I met Mr. Bradlaughand General Kilpatrick, who were advertised on the same route ahead ofme. "Well, " said I, "where have you gentlemen been?" "Waiting here forthe roads to be opened. We have lost three weeks' engagements, " theyreplied. As the General was lecturing on his experiences in Sherman'smarch to the sea, I chaffed him on not being able, in an emergency, tomarch across the State of Iowa. They were much astonished and somewhatashamed, when I told them of my long, solitary drives over the prairiesfrom day to day. It was the testimony of all the bureaus that the womencould endure more fatigue and were more conscientious than the men infilling their appointments. 

The pleasant feature of these trips was the great educational workaccomplished for the people through their listening to lectures on allthe vital questions of the hour. Wherever any of us chanced to be onSunday, we preached in some church; and wherever I had a spareafternoon, I talked to women alone, on marriage, maternity, and the lawsof life and health. We made many most charming acquaintances, too, scattered all over our Western World, and saw how comfortable and happysensible people could be, living in most straitened circumstances, withnone of the luxuries of life. If most housekeepers could get rid ofone-half their clothes and furniture and put their bric-a-brac in thetown museum, life would be simplified and they would begin to know whatleisure means. When I see so many of our American women struggling to beartists, who cannot make a good loaf of bread nor a palatable cup ofcoffee, I think of what Theodore Parker said when art was a craze inBoston. "The fine arts do not interest me so much as the coarse artswhich feed, clothe, house, and comfort a people. I would rather be agreat man like Franklin than a Michael Angelo--nay, if I had a son, Ishould rather see him a mechanic, like the late George Stephenson, inEngland, than a great painter like Rubens, who only copied beauty. "

One day I found at the office of the _Revolution_ an invitation to meetMrs. Moulton in the Academy of Music, where she was to try her voice forthe coming concert for the benefit of the Woman's Medical College. Andwhat a voice for power, pathos, pliability! I never heard the like. Seated beside her mother, Mrs. W. H. Greenough, I enjoyed alike themother's anxious pride and the daughter's triumph. I felt, as Ilistened, the truth of what Vieuxtemps said the first time he heard her, "That is the traditional voice for which the ages have waited andlonged. " When, on one occasion, Mrs. Moulton sang a song of Mozart's toAuber's accompaniment, someone present asked, "What could be added tomake this more complete?" Auber looked up to heaven, and, with a sweetsmile, said, "Nothing but that Mozart should have been here to listen. "Looking and listening, "Here, " thought I, "is another jewel in the crownof womanhood, to radiate and glorify the lives of all. " I have such anintense pride of sex that the triumphs of woman in art, literature, oratory, science, or song rouse my enthusiasm as nothing else can. 

Hungering, that day, for gifted women, I called on Alice and Phebe Caryand Mary Clemmer Ames, and together we gave the proud white male such aserving up as did our souls good and could not hurt him, intrenched, ashe is, behind creeds, codes, customs, and constitutions, with vizor andbreastplate of self-complacency and conceit. In criticising JessieBoucherett's essay on "Superfluous Women, " in which she advises men inEngland to emigrate in order to leave room and occupation for women, the_Tribune_ said: "The idea of a home without a man in it!" In visitingthe Carys one always felt that there was a home--a very charming one, too--without a man in it. 

Once when Harriet Beecher Stowe was at Dr. Taylor's, I had theopportunity to make her acquaintance. In her sanctum, surrounded bybooks and papers, she was just finishing her second paper on the Byronfamily, and her sister Catherine was preparing papers on her educationalwork, preparatory to a coming meeting of the ladies of the school board. The women of the Beecher family, though most of them wives and mothers, all had a definite life-work outside the family circle, and otherobjects of intense interest beside husbands, babies, cook stoves, andsocial conversations. Catherine said she was opposed to woman suffrage, and if she thought there was the least danger of our getting it, shewould write and talk against it vehemently. But, as the nation was safeagainst such a calamity, she was willing to let the talk go on, becausethe agitation helped her work. "It is rather paradoxical, " I said toher, "that the pressing of a false principle can help a true one; butwhen you get the women all thoroughly educated, they will step off tothe polls and vote in spite of you. "

One night on the train from New York to Williamsport, Pennsylvania, Ifound abundant time to think over the personal peculiarities of the manynoble women who adorn this nineteenth century, and, as I recalled them, one by one, in America, England, France, and Germany, and all that theyare doing and saying, I wandered that any man could be so blind as notto see that woman has already taken her place as the peer of man. Whilethe lords of creation have been debating her sphere and drawing theirchalk marks here and there, woman has quietly stepped outside the barrenfields where she was compelled to graze for centuries, and is now ingreen pastures and beside still waters, a power in the world of thought. 

These pleasant cogitations were cut short by my learning that I hadtaken the wrong train, and must change at Harrisburg at two o'clock inthe morning. How soon the reflection that I must leave my comfortableberth at such an unchristian hour changed the whole hue of gloriouswomanhood and every other earthly blessing! However, I lived through thetrial and arrived at Williamsport as the day dawned. I had a goodaudience at the opera house that evening, and was introduced to manyagreeable people, who declared themselves converted to woman suffrage bymy ministrations. Among the many new jewels in my crown, I added, thatnight, Judge Bently. 

In November, 1869, I passed one night in Philadelphia, with MissAnthony, at Anna Dickinson's home--a neat, three-story brick house inLocust Street. This haven of rest, where the world-famous little womancame, ever and anon, to recruit her overtaxed energies, was verytastefully furnished, adorned with engravings, books, and statuary. Hermother, sister, and brother made up the household--a pleasing, cultivated trio. The brother was a handsome youth of good judgment, andgiven to sage remarks; the sister, witty, intuitive, and incisive inspeech; the mother, dressed in rich Quaker costume, and though nearlyseventy, still possessed of great personal beauty. She was intelligent, dignified, refined, and, in manner and appearance, reminded one ofAngelina Grimké as she looked in her younger days. Everything about thehouse and its appointments indicated that it was the abode of genius andcultivation, and, although Anna was absent, the hospitalities weregracefully dispensed by her family. Napoleon and Shakespeare seemed tobe Anna's patron saints, looking down, on all sides, from the wall. Themother amused us with the sore trials her little orator had inflicted onthe members of the household by her vagaries in the world of fame. 

On the way to Kennett Square, a young gentleman pointed out to us thehome of Benjamin West, who distinguished himself, to the disgust ofbroadbrims generally, as a landscape painter. In commencing his career, it is said he made use of the tail of a cat in lieu of a brush. Ofcourse Benjamin's first attempts were on the sly, and he could not askpaterfamilias for money to buy a brush without encountering the goodman's scorn. Whether, in the hour of his need and fresh enthusiasm, poorpuss was led to the sacrificial altar, or whether he found her reposingby the roadside, having paid the debt of Nature, our informant could notsay; enough that, in time, he owned a brush and immortalized himself byhis skill in its use. Such erratic ones as Whittier, West, and AnnaDickinson go to prove that even the prim, proper, perfect Quakers aresubject to like infirmities with the rest of the human family. 

I had long heard of the "Progressive Friends" in the region roundLongwood; had read the many bulls they issued from their "yearlymeetings" on every question, on war, capital punishment, temperance, slavery, woman's rights; had learned that they were turning the coldshoulder on the dress, habits, and opinions of their Fathers; listeningto the ministrations of such worldlings as William Lloyd Garrison, Theodore Tilton, and Oliver Johnson, in a new meeting house, all paintedand varnished, with cushions, easy seats, carpets, stoves, a musicalinstrument--shade of George Fox, forgive--and three brackets with vaseson the "high seat, " and, more than all that, men and women wereindiscriminately seated throughout the house. 

All this Miss Anthony and I beheld with our own eyes, and, in companywith Sarah Pugh and Chandler Darlington, did sit together in the highseat and talk in the congregation of the people. There, too, we metHannah Darlington and Dinah Mendenhall, --names long known in every goodwork, --and, for the space of one day, did enjoy the blissful serenity ofthat earthly paradise. The women of Kennett Square were celebrated notonly for their model housekeeping but also for their rare cultivation onall subjects of general interest. 

In November I again started on one of my Western trips, but, alas! onthe very day the trains were changed, and so I could not makeconnections to meet my engagements at Saginaw and Marshall, and justsaved myself at Toledo by going directly from the cars before theaudience, with the dust of twenty-four hours' travel on my garments. Not being able to reach Saginaw, I went straight to Ann Arbor, and spentthree days most pleasantly in visiting old friends, making new ones, andsurveying the town, with its grand University. I was invited toThanksgiving dinner at the home of Mr. Seaman, a highly cultivatedDemocratic editor, author of "Progress of Nations. " A choice number ofguests gathered round his hospitable board on that occasion, over whichhis wife presided with dignity and grace. Woman suffrage was the targetfor the combined wit and satire of the company, and, after four hours ofuninterrupted sharpshooting, pyrotechnics, and laughter, we dispersed toour several abodes, fairly exhausted with the excess of enjoyment. 

One gentleman had the moral hardihood to assert that men had moreendurance than women, whereupon a lady remarked that she would like tosee the thirteen hundred young men in the University laced up insteel-ribbed corsets, with hoops, heavy skirts, trains, high heels, panniers, chignons, and dozens of hairpins sticking in their scalps, cooped up in the house year after year, with no exhilarating exercise, no hopes, aims, nor ambitions in life, and know if they could stand itas well as the girls. "Nothing, " said she, "but the fact that women, like cats, have nine lives, enables them to survive the present _régime_to which custom dooms the sex. "

While in Ann Arbor I gave my lecture on "Our Girls" in the new Methodistchurch--a large building, well lighted, and filled with a brilliantaudience. The students, in large numbers, were there, and strengthenedthe threads of my discourse with frequent and generous applause;especially when I urged on the Regents of the University the duty ofopening its doors to the daughters of the State. There were severalsplendid girls in Michigan, at that time, preparing themselves foradmission to the law department. As Judge Cooley, one of the professors, was a very liberal man, as well as a sound lawyer, and strongly in favorof opening the college to girls, I had no doubt the women of Michiganwould soon distinguish themselves at the bar. Some said the chiefdifficulty in the way of the girls of that day being admitted to theUniversity was the want of room. That could have been easily obviated bytelling the young men from abroad to betake themselves to the collegesin their respective States, that Michigan might educate her daughters. As the women owned a good share of the property of the State, and hadbeen heavily taxed to build and endow that institution, it was but fairthat they should share in its advantages. 

The Michigan University, with its extensive grounds, commodiousbuildings, medical and law schools, professors' residences, and thefinest laboratory in the country, was an institution of which the Statewas justly proud, and, as the tuition was free, it was worth the troubleof a long, hard siege by the girls of Michigan to gain admittance there. I advised them to organize their forces at once, get their minute guns, battering rams, monitors, projectiles, bombshells, cannon, torpedoes, and crackers ready, and keep up a brisk cannonading until the grave andreverend seigniors opened the door, and shouted, "Hold, enough!"

The ladies of Ann Arbor had a fine library of their own, where theirclubs met once a week. They had just formed a suffrage association. Myvisit ended with a pleasant reception, at which I was introduced to thechaplain, several professors, and many ladies and gentlemen ready toaccept the situation. Judge Cooley gave me a glowing account of the lawsof Michigan--how easy it was for wives to get possession of all theproperty, and then sunder the marriage tie and leave the poor husband tothe charity of the cold world, with their helpless children about him. Iheard of a rich lady, there, who made a will, giving her husband ahandsome annuity as long as he remained her widower. It was evident thatthe poor "white male, " sooner or later, was doomed to try for himselfthe virtue of the laws he had made for women. I hope, for the sake ofthe race, he will not bear oppression with the stupid fortitude we havefor six thousand years. 

At Flint I was entertained by Mr. And Mrs. Jenny. Mr. Jenny was aDemocratic editor who believed in progress, and in making smooth pathsfor women in this great wilderness of life. His wife was a remarkablewoman. She inaugurated the Ladies' Libraries in Michigan. In Flint theyhad a fine brick building and nearly two thousand volumes of choicebooks, owned by the association, and money always in the treasury. Here, too, I had a fine audience and gave my lecture entitled "Open the Door. "

At Coldwater, in spite of its name, I found a warm, appreciativeaudience. The president of the lyceum was a sensible young man who, after graduating at Ann Arbor, decided, instead of starving at the law, to work with his hands and brains at the same time. When all men go totheir legitimate business of creating wealth, developing the resourcesof the country, and leave its mere exchange to the weaker sex, we shallnot have so many superfluous women in the world with nothing to do. Itis evident the time has come to hunt man into his appropriate sphere. Coming from Chicago, I met Governor Fairchild and Senator Williams ofWisconsin. It was delightful to find them thoroughly grounded in thefaith of woman suffrage. They had been devout readers of the_Revolution_ ever since Miss Anthony induced them to subscribe, thewinter before, at Madison. Of course a new glow of intelligenceirradiated their fine faces (for they were remarkably handsome men) andthere was a new point to all their words. Senator Williams, like myself, was on a lecturing tour. "Man" was his theme, for which I was devoutlythankful; for, if there are any of God's creatures that need lecturing, it is this one that is forever advising us. I thought of all men, fromFather Gregory down to Horace Bushnell, who had wearied their brains todescribe woman's sphere, and how signally they had failed. 

Throughout my lyceum journeys I was of great use to the travelingpublic, in keeping the ventilators in the cars open, and the dampers infiery stoves shut up, especially in sleeping cars at night. How manytimes a day I thought what the sainted Horace Mann tried to impress onhis stupid countrymen, that, inasmuch as the air is forty miles deeparound the globe, it is a useless piece of economy to breathe any numberof cubic feet over more than seven times! The babies, too, need to bethankful that I was in a position to witness their wrongs. Many, throughmy intercessions, received their first drink of water, and wereemancipated from woolen hoods, veils, tight strings under their chins, and endless swaddling bands. It is a startling assertion, but true, that I have met few women who know how to take care of a baby. And thisfact led me, on one trip, to lecture to my fair countrywomen on"Marriage and Maternity, " hoping to aid in the inauguration of a new eraof happy, healthy babies. 

After twenty-four hours in the express I found myself in a pleasant roomin the International Hotel at La Crosse, looking out on the Great Motherof Waters, on whose cold bosom the ice and the steamers were strugglingfor mastery. Beyond stretched the snow-clad bluffs, sternly looking downon the Mississippi, as if to say, "'Thus far shalt thou come and nofarther'--though sluggish, you are aggressive, ever pushing where youshould not; but all attempts in this direction are alike vain; sincecreation's dawn, we have defied you, and here we stand, to-day, calm, majestic, immovable. Coquette as you will in other latitudes, withflowery banks and youthful piers in the busy marts of trade, andundermine them, one and all, with your deceitful wooings, but bow inreverence as you gaze on us. We have no eyes for your beauty; no earsfor your endless song; our heads are in the clouds, our hearts communewith gods; you have no part in the eternal problems of the ages thatfill our thoughts, yours the humble duty to wash our feet, and then passon, remembering to keep in your appropriate sphere, within the barksthat wise geographers have seen fit to mark. "

As I listened to these complacent hills and watched the poor Mississippiweeping as she swept along, to lose her sorrows in ocean's depths, Ithought how like the attitude of man to woman. Let these proud hillsremember that they, too, slumbered for centuries in deep valleys down, down, when, perchance, the sparkling Mississippi rolled above theirheads, and but for some generous outburst, some upheaval of old MotherEarth, wishing that her rock-ribbed sons, as well as graceful daughters, might enjoy the light, the sunshine and the shower--but for this soul oflove in matter as well as mind--these bluffs and the sons of Adam, too, might not boast the altitude they glory in to-day. Those who have earsto hear discern low, rumbling noises that foretell convulsions in oursocial world that may, perchance, in the next upheaval, bring woman tothe surface; up, up, from gloomy ocean depths, dark caverns, and dampervalleys. The struggling daughters of earth are soon to walk in thesunlight of a higher civilization. 

Escorted by Mr. Woodward, a member of the bar, I devoted a day to thelions of La Crosse. First we explored the courthouse, a large, new brickbuilding, from whose dome we had a grand view of the surroundingcountry. The courtroom where justice is administered was large, clean, airy--the bench carpeted and adorned with a large, green, stuffed chair, in which I sat down, and, in imagination, summoned up advocates, jurors, prisoners, and people, and wondered how I should feel pronouncingsentence of death on a fellow-being, or, like Portia, wisely checkmatingthe Shylocks of our times. Here I met Judge Hugh Cameron, formerly ofJohnstown. He invited us into his sanctum, where we had a pleasant chatabout our native hills, Scotch affiliations, the bench and bar of NewYork, and the Wisconsin laws for women. The Judge, having maintained ahappy bachelor state, looked placidly on the aggressive movements ofthe sex, as his domestic felicity would be no way affected, whetherwoman was voted up or down. 

We next surveyed the Pomeroy building, which contained a large, tastefully finished hall and printing establishment, where the La Crosse_Democrat_ was formerly published. As I saw the perfection, order, andgood taste, in all arrangements throughout, and listened to Mr. Huron'sdescription of the life and leading characteristics of its chief, itseemed impossible to reconcile the tone of the _Democrat_ with the moralstatus of its editor. I never saw a more complete businessestablishment, and the editorial sanctum looked as if it might be theabiding place of the Muses. Mirrors, pictures, statuary, books, music, rare curiosities, and fine specimens of birds and minerals wereeverywhere. Over the editor's table was a beautiful painting of hisyouthful daughter, whose flaxen hair, blue eyes, and angelic face shouldhave inspired a father to nobler, purer, utterances than he was wont, atthat time, to give to the world. 

But Pomeroy's good deeds will live long after his profane words areforgotten. Throughout the establishment cards, set up in conspicuousplaces, said, "Smoking here is positively forbidden. " Drinking, too, wasforbidden to all his employés. The moment a man was discovered usingintoxicating drinks, he was dismissed. In the upper story of thebuilding was a large, pleasant room, handsomely carpeted and furnished, where the employés, in their leisure hours, could talk, write, read, oramuse themselves in any rational way. 

Mr. Pomeroy was humane and generous with his employés, honorable in hisbusiness relations, and boundless in his charities to the poor. Hischarity, business honor, and public spirit were highly spoken of bythose who knew him best. That a journal does not always reflect theeditor is as much the fault of society as of the man. So long as thepublic will pay for gross personalities, obscenity, and slang, decentjournals will be outbidden in the market. The fact that the La Crosse_Democrat_ found a ready sale in all parts of the country showed thatMr. Pomeroy fairly reflected the popular taste. While multitudes turnedup the whites of their eyes and denounced him in public, they bought hispaper and read it in private. 

I left La Crosse in a steamer, just as the rising sun lighted thehilltops and gilded the Mississippi. It was a lovely morning, and, incompany with a young girl of sixteen, who had traveled alone from someremote part of Canada, bound for a northern village in Wisconsin, Ipromenaded the deck most of the way to Winona, a pleased listener to theincidents of my young companion's experiences. She said that, whencrossing Lake Huron, she was the only woman on board, but the men wereso kind and civil that she soon forgot she was alone. I found manygirls, traveling long distances, who had never been five miles from homebefore, with a self-reliance that was remarkable. They all spoke in themost flattering manner of the civility of our American men in lookingafter their baggage and advising them as to the best routes. 

As you approach St. Paul, at Fort Snelling, where the Mississippi andMinnesota join forces, the country grows bold and beautiful. The townitself, then boasting about thirty thousand inhabitants, is finelysituated, with substantial stone residences. It was in one of thesecharming homes I found a harbor of rest during my stay in the city. Mrs. Stuart, whose hospitalities I enjoyed, was a woman of rare common senseand sound health. Her husband, Dr. Jacob H. Stuart, was one of the veryfirst surgeons to volunteer in the late war. In the panic at Bull Run, instead of running, as everybody else did, he stayed with the wounded, and was taken prisoner while taking a bullet from the head of a rebel. When exchanged, Beauregard gave him his sword for his devotion to thedying and wounded. 

I had the pleasure of seeing several of the leading gentlemen and ladiesof St. Paul at the Orphans' Fair, where we all adjourned, after mylecture, to discuss woman's rights, over a bounteous supper. Here I metWilliam L. Banning, the originator of the Lake Superior and MississippiRailroad. He besieged Congress and capitalists for a dozen years tobuild this road, but was laughed at and put off with sneers andcontempt, until, at last, Jay Cooke became so weary of his continualcoming that he said: "I will build the road to get rid of you. "

Whittier seems to have had a prophetic vision of the peopling of thisregion. When speaking of the Yankee, he says:

 "He's whittling by St. Mary's Falls, Upon his loaded wain; He's measuring o'er the Pictured Rocks, With eager eyes of gain. 

 "I hear the mattock in the mine, The ax-stroke in the dell, The clamor from the Indian lodge, The Jesuits' chapel bell!

 "I hear the tread of pioneers Of nations yet to be; The first low wash of waves, where soon Shall roll a human sea. "

The opening of these new outlets and mines of wealth was wholly due tothe forecast and perseverance of Mr. Banning. The first engine that wentover a part of the road had been christened at St. Paul, with becomingceremonies; the officiating priestess being a beautiful maiden. A caskof water from the Pacific was sent by Mr. Banning's brother fromCalifornia, and a small keg was brought from Lake Superior for theoccasion. A glass was placed in the hands of Miss Ella B. Banning, daughter of the president, who then christened the engine, saying: "Withthe waters of the Pacific Ocean in my right hand, and the waters of LakeSuperior in my left, invoking the Genius of Progress to bring together, with iron band, two great commercial systems of the globe, I dedicatethis engine to the use of the Lake Superior and Mississippi Railroad, and name it William L. Banning. "

From St. Paul to Dubuque, as the boats had ceased running, a circuitousroute and a night of discomfort were inevitable. Leaving the main roadto Chicago at Clinton Junction, I had the pleasure of waiting at a smallcountry inn until midnight for a freight train. This was indeed dreary, but, having Mrs. Child's sketches of Mmes. De Staël and Roland at hand, I read of Napoleon's persecutions of the one and Robespierre's of theother, until, by comparison, my condition was tolerable, and the littlemeagerly furnished room, with its dull fire and dim lamp, seemed aparadise compared with years of exile from one's native land or theprison cell and guillotine. How small our ordinary, petty trials seemin contrast with the mountains of sorrow that have been piled up on thegreat souls of the past! Absorbed in communion with them twelve o'clocksoon came, and with it the train. 

A burly son of Adam escorted me to the passenger car filled with Germanimmigrants, with tin cups, babies, bags, and bundles innumerable. Theventilators were all closed, the stoves hot, and the air was like thatof the Black Hole of Calcutta. So, after depositing my cloak and bag inan empty seat, I quietly propped both doors open with a stick of wood, shut up the stoves, and opened all the ventilators with the poker. Butthe celestial breeze, so grateful to me, had the most unhappy effect onthe slumbering exiles. Paterfamilias swore outright; the companion ofhis earthly pilgrimage said, "We must be going north, " and, as the heavyveil of carbonic acid gas was lifted from infant faces, and the pureoxygen filled their lungs and roused them to new life, they set up onesimultaneous shout of joy and gratitude, which their parents mistook foragony. Altogether there was a general stir. As I had quietly slippedinto my seat and laid my head down to sleep, I remained unobserved--theinnocent cause of the general purification and vexation. 

We reached Freeport at three o'clock in the morning. As the depot forDubuque was nearly half a mile on the other side of the town, I said toa solitary old man who stood shivering there to receive us, "How can Iget to the other station?" "Walk, madam. " "But I do not know the way. ""There is no one to go with you. " "How is my trunk going?" said I. "Ihave a donkey and cart to take that. " "Then, " said I, "you, the donkey, the trunk, and I will go together. " So I stepped into the cart, sat downon the trunk, and the old man laughed heartily as we jogged alongthrough the mud of that solitary town in the pale morning starlight. Just as the day was dawning, Dubuque, with its rough hills and boldscenery, loomed up. Soon, under the roof of Myron Beach, one of thedistinguished lawyers of the West, with a good breakfast and sound nap, my night's sorrows were forgotten. 

I was sorry to find that Mrs. Beach, though a native of New York, andborn on the very spot where the first woman's rights convention was heldin this country, was not sound on the question of woman suffrage. Sheseemed to have an idea that voting and housekeeping could not becompounded; but I suggested that, if the nation could only enjoy alittle of the admirable system with which she and other womenadministered their domestic affairs, Uncle Sam's interests would bebetter secured. This is just what the nation needs to-day, and womenmust wake up to the consideration that they, too, have duties as well asrights in the State. A splendid audience greeted me in the Opera House, and I gave "Our Girls, " bringing many male sinners to repentance, andstirring up some lethargic _femmes coverts_ to a state of rebellionagainst the existing order of things. 

From Dubuque I went to Dixon, a large town, where I met a number ofpleasant people, but I have one cause of complaint against the telegraphoperator, whose negligence to send a dispatch to Mt. Vernon, written andpaid for, came near causing me a solitary night on the prairie, unsheltered and unknown. Hearing that the express train went out Sundayafternoon, I decided to go, so as to have all day at Mt. Vernon beforespeaking; but on getting my trunk checked, the baggageman said the traindid not stop there. "Well, " said I, "check the trunk to the nearestpoint at which it does stop, " resolving that I would persuade theconductor to stop one minute, anyway. Accordingly, when the conductorcame round, I presented my case as persuasively and eloquently aspossible, telling him that I had telegraphed friends to meet me, etc. , etc. He kindly consented to do so and had my trunk re-checked. Onarriving, as there was no light, no sound, and the depot was half a milefrom the town, the conductor urged me to go to Cedar Rapids and comeback the next morning, as it was Sunday night and the depot might not beopened, and I might be compelled to stay there on the platform all nightin the cold. 

But, as I had telegraphed, I told him I thought someone would be there, and I would take the risk. So off went the train, leaving me solitaryand alone. I could see the lights in the distant town and the darkoutlines of two great mills near by, which suggested dams and races. Iheard, too, the distant barking of dogs, and I thought there might bewolves, too; but no human sound. The platform was high and I could seeno way down, and I should not have dared to go down if I had. So Iwalked all round the house, knocked at every door and window, called"John!" "James!" "Patrick!" but no response. Dressed in all their best, they had, no doubt, gone to visit Sally, and I knew they would staylate. The night wind was cold. What could I do? The prospect of spendingthe night there filled me with dismay. At last I thought I would try myvocal powers; so I hallooed as loud as I could, in every note of thegamut, until I was hoarse. At last I heard a distant sound, a loudhalloo, which I returned, and so we kept it up until the voice grewnear, and, when I heard a man's heavy footsteps close at hand, I wasrelieved. He proved to be the telegraph operator, who had been a bravesoldier in the late war. He said that no message had come from Dixon. Heescorted me to the hotel, where some members of the Lyceum Committeecame in and had a hearty laugh at my adventure, especially that, in mydistress, I should have called on James and John and Patrick, instead ofJane, Ann, and Bridget. They seemed to argue that that was an admission, on my part, of man's superiority, but I suggested that, as my sex hadnot yet been exalted to the dignity of presiding in depots and baggagerooms, there would have been no propriety in calling Jane and Ann. 

Mt. Vernon was distinguished for a very flourishing Methodist college, open to boys and girls alike. The president and his wife were liberaland progressive people. I dined with them in their home near thecollege, and met some young ladies from Massachusetts, who were teachersin the institution. All who gathered round the social board on thatoccasion were of one mind on the woman question. Even the venerablemother of the president seemed to light up with the discussion of thetheme. I gave "Our Girls" in the Methodist church, and took theopportunity to compliment them for taking the word "obey" out of theirmarriage ceremony. I heard the most encouraging reports of theexperiment of educating the sexes together. It was the rule in all theMethodist institutions in Iowa, and I found that the young gentlemenfully approved of it. 

At Mt. Vernon I also met Mr. Wright, former Secretary of State, who gaveme several interesting facts in regard to the women of Iowa. The Statecould boast one woman who was an able lawyer, Mrs. Mansfield. Mrs. Berryand Mrs. Stebbins were notaries public. Miss Addington wassuperintendent of schools in Mitchell County. She was nominated by aconvention in opposition to a Mr. Brown. When the vote was taken, lo!there was a tie. Mr. Brown offered to yield through courtesy, but shedeclined; so they drew lots and Miss Addington was the victor. She oncemade an abstract of titles of all the lands in the county where shelived, and had received an appointment to office from the Governor ofthe State, who requested the paper to be made out "L. " instead of LauraAddington. He said it was enough for Iowa to appoint women to suchoffices, without having it known the world over. I was sorry to tell theGovernor's secrets, --which I did everywhere, --but the cause of womanhoodmade it necessary. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

WESTWARD HO!

In the month of June, 1871, Miss Anthony and I went to California, holding suffrage meetings in many of the chief cities from New York toSan Francisco, where we arrived about the middle of July, in time toexperience the dry, dusty season. 

We tarried, on the way, one week in Salt Lake City. It was at the timeof the Godby secession, when several hundred Mormons abjured thatportion of the faith of their fathers which authorized polygamy. Adecision had just been rendered by the United States Supreme Courtdeclaring the first wife and her children the only legal heirs. Whetherthis decision hastened the secession I do not know; however, it gave usthe advantage of hearing all the arguments for and against the system. Those who were opposed to it said it made slaves of men. To support fourwives and twenty children was a severe strain on any husband. The womenwho believed in polygamy had much to say in its favor, especially inregard to the sacredness of motherhood during the period of pregnancyand lactation; a lesson of respect for that period being religiouslytaught all Mormons. 

We were very thankful for the privilege granted us of speaking to thewomen alone in the smaller Tabernacle. Our meeting opened at two o'clockand lasted until seven, giving us five hours of uninterruptedconversation. Judge McKeon had informed me of the recent decisions andthe legal aspects of the questions, which he urged me to present to themfully and frankly, as no one had had such an opportunity before to speakto Mormon women alone. So I made the most of my privilege. I gave abrief history of the marriage institution in all times and countries, ofthe matriarchate, when the mother was the head of the family and ownedthe property and children; of the patriarchate, when man reigned supremeand woman was enslaved; of polyandry, polygamy, monogamy, andprostitution. We had a full and free discussion of every phase of thequestion, and we all agreed that we were still far from having reachedthe ideal position for woman in marriage, however satisfied man might bewith his various experiments. Though the Mormon women, like all others, stoutly defend their own religion, yet they are no more satisfied thanany other sect. All women are dissatisfied with their position asinferiors, and their dissatisfaction increases in exact ratio with theirintelligence and development. 

After this convocation the doors of the Tabernacle were closed to ourministrations, as we thought they would be, but we had crowded animmense amount of science, philosophy, history, and general reflectionsinto the five hours of such free talk as those women had never heardbefore. As the seceders had just built a new hall, we held meetingsthere every day, discussing all the vital issues of the hour; the Mormonmen and women taking an active part. 

We attended the Fourth of July celebration, and saw the immenseTabernacle filled to its utmost capacity. The various States of theUnion were represented by young girls, gayly dressed, carrying beautifulflags and banners. When that immense multitude joined in our nationalsongs, and the deep-toned organ filled the vast dome the music was veryimpressive, and the spirit of patriotism manifested throughout was deepand sincere. 

As I stood among these simple people, so earnest in making theirexperiment in religion and social life, and remembered all thepersecutions they had suffered and all they had accomplished in thatdesolate, far-off region, where they had, indeed, made "the wildernessblossom like the rose, " I appreciated, as never before, the danger ofintermeddling with the religious ideas of any people. Their faith findsabundant authority in the Bible, in the example of God's chosen people. When learned ecclesiastics teach the people that they can safely takethat book as the guide of their lives, they must expect them to followthe letter and the specific teachings that lie on the surface. Theordinary mind does not generalize nor see that the same principles ofconduct will not do for all periods and latitudes. When women understandthat governments and religions are human inventions; that Bibles, prayerbooks, catechisms, and encyclical letters are all emanations fromthe brain of man, they will no longer be oppressed by the injunctionsthat come to them with the divine authority of "Thus saith the Lord. "

That thoroughly democratic gathering in the Tabernacle impressed me morethan any other Fourth of July celebration I ever attended. As most ofthe Mormon families keep no servants, mothers must take their childrenwherever they go--to churches, theatres, concerts, and militaryreviews--everywhere and anywhere. Hence the low, pensive wail of theindividual baby, combining in large numbers, becomes a deep monotone, like the waves of the sea, a sort of violoncello accompaniment to alltheir holiday performances. It was rather trying to me at first to havemy glowing periods punctuated with a rhythmic wail from all sides of thehall; but as soon as I saw that it did not distract my hearers, I simplyraised my voice, and, with a little added vehemence, fairly rivaled thebabies. Commenting on this trial, to one of the theatrical performers, he replied: "It is bad enough for you, but alas! imagine me in a tenderdeath scene, when the most profound stillness is indispensable, havingmy last gasp, my farewell message to loved ones, accentuated with thejoyful crowings or impatient complainings of fifty babies. " I noticed inthe Tabernacle that the miseries of the infantile host were in a measuremitigated by constant draughts of cold water, borne around in buckets byfour old men. 

The question of the most profound interest to us at that time, in theMormon experiment, was the exercise of the suffrage by women. Emeline B. Wells, wife of the Mayor of the city, writing to a Washingtonconvention, in 1894, said of the many complications growing out ofvarious bills before Congress to rob women of this right:

 "Women have voted in Utah fourteen years, but, because of the little word 'male' that still stands upon the statutes, no woman is eligible to any office of emolument or trust. In three successive legislatures, bills have been passed, providing that the word 'male' be erased; but, each time, the Governor of the Territory, who has absolute veto power, has refused his signature. Yet women attend primary meetings in the various precincts and are chosen as delegates. They are also members of county and territorial central committees, and are thus gaining practical political experience, and preparing themselves for positions of trust. 

 "In 1882 a convention was held to frame a constitution to be submitted to the people and presented to the Congress of the United States. Women were delegates to this convention, and took part in all its deliberations, and were appointed to act on committees with equal privileges. It is the first instance on record, I think, where women have been members and taken an active part in a constitutional convention. 

 "Much has been said and written, and justly, too, of suffrage for women in Wyoming; but, in my humble opinion, had Utah stood on the same ground as Wyoming, and women been eligible to office, as they are in that Territory, they would, ere this, have been elected to the legislative Assembly of Utah. 

 "It is currently reported that Mormon women vote as they are told by their husbands. I most emphatically deny the assertion. All Mormon women vote who are privileged to register. Every girl born here, as soon as she is twenty-one years old, registers, and considers it as much a duty as to say her prayers. Our women vote with the same freedom that characterizes any class of people in the most conscientious acts of their lives. "

These various questions were happily solved in 1895, when Utah became aState. Its Constitution gives women the right to vote on all questions, and makes them eligible to any office. 

The journey over the Rocky Mountains was more interesting and wonderfulthan I had imagined. A heavy shower the morning we reached the alkaliplains made the trip through that region, where travelers suffer somuch, quite endurable. Although we reached California in its hot, dryseason, we found the atmosphere in San Francisco delightful, fanned withthe gentle breezes of the Pacific, cooled with the waters of itsmagnificent harbor. The Golden Gate does indeed open to the eye of thetraveler one of the most beautiful harbors in the world. 

Friends had engaged for us a suite of apartments at the Grand Hotel, then just opened. Our rooms were constantly decked with fresh flowers, which our "suffrage children, " as they called themselves, brought usfrom day to day. So many brought tokens of their good will--in fact, allour visitors came with offerings of fruits and flowers--that not onlyour apartments, but the public tables were crowded with rare andbeautiful specimens of all varieties. We spoke every night, to crowdedhouses, on all phases of the woman question, and had a succession ofvisitors during the day. In fact, for one week, we had a perfectovation. As Senator Stanford and his wife were at the same hotel, we hadmany pleasant interviews with them. 

While in San Francisco we had many delightful sails in the harbor anddrives to the seashore and for miles along the beach. We spent severalhours at the little Ocean House, watching the gambols of the celebratedseals. These, like the big trees, were named after distinguishedstatesmen. One very black fellow was named Charles Sumner, in honor ofhis love of the black race; another, with a little squint in his eye, was called Ben Butler; a stout, rotund specimen that seemed to take lifephilosophically, was named Senator Davis of Illinois; a very belligerentone, who appeared determined to crowd his confrères into the sea, wascalled Secretary Stanton. Grant and Lincoln, on a higher ledge of therocks, were complacently observing the gambols of the rest. 

California was on the eve of an important election, and John A. Binghamof Ohio and Senator Cole were stumping the State for the Republicanparty. At several points we had the use of their great tents for ouraudiences, and of such of their able arguments as applied to woman. AsMr. Bingham's great speech was on the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, andFifteenth Amendments, every principle he laid down literallyenfranchised the women of the nation. I met the Ohio statesman onemorning at breakfast, after hearing him the night before. I told him hislogic must compel him to advocate woman suffrage. With a most cynicalsmile he said "he was not the puppet of logic, but the slave ofpractical politics. "

We met most of our suffrage coadjutors in different parts of California. I spent a few days with Mrs. Elizabeth B. Schenck, one of the earliestpioneers in the suffrage movement. She was a cultivated, noble woman, and her little cottage was a gem of beauty and comfort, surrounded withbeautiful gardens and a hedge of fish-geraniums over ten feet high, covered with scarlet flowers. It seemed altogether more like a fairybower than a human habitation. The windmills all over California, forpumping water, make a very pretty feature in the landscape, as well asan important one, as people are obliged to irrigate their gardensduring the dry season. In August the hills are as brown as ours inDecember. 

Here, too, I first met Senator Sargent's family, and visited them inSacramento City, where we had a suffrage meeting in the evening and onefor women alone next day. At a similar meeting in San Francisco sixhundred women were present in Platt's Hall. We discussed marriage, maternity, and social life in general. Supposing none but women werepresent, as all were dressed in feminine costume, the audience werequite free in their questions, and I equally so in my answers. To ourastonishment, the next morning, a verbatim report of all that was saidappeared in one of the leading papers, with most respectful comments. AsI always wrote and read carefully what I had to say on such delicatesubjects, the language was well chosen and the presentation of facts andphilosophy quite unobjectionable; hence, the information being asimportant for men as for women, I did not regret the publication. Duringthe day a committee of three gentlemen called to know if I would give alecture to men alone. As I had no lecture prepared, I declined, with thepromise to do so the next time I visited California. The idea was novel, but I think women could do much good in that way. 

My readers may be sure that such enterprising travelers as Miss Anthonyand myself visited all the wonders, saw the geysers, big trees, theYosemite Valley, and the immense mountain ranges, piled one aboveanother, until they seemed to make a giant pathway from earth to heaven. We drove down the mountain sides with Fox, the celebrated whip; sixteenpeople in an open carriage drawn by six horses, down, down, down, asfast as we could go. I expected to be dashed to pieces, but we safelydescended in one hour, heights we had taken three to climb. Fox held asteady rein, and seemed as calm as if we were trotting on a level, though any accident, such as a hot axle, a stumbling horse, or a breakin the harness would have sent us down the mountain side, two thousandfeet, to inevitable destruction. He had many amusing anecdotes to tellof Horace Greeley's trip to the Geysers. The distinguished journalistwas wholly unprepared for the race down the mountains and begged Fox tohold up. Sitting in front he made several efforts to seize the lines. But Fox assured him that was the only possible way they could descend insafety, as the horses could guide the stage, but they could not hold it. 

At Stockton we met a party of friends just returning from the Yosemite, who gave us much valuable information for the journey. Among otherthings, I was advised to write to Mr. Hutchins, the chief authoritythere, to have a good, strong horse in readiness to take me down thesteep and narrow path into the valley. We took the same driver andcarriage which our friends had found trustworthy, and started early inthe morning. The dust and heat made the day's journey very wearisome, but the prospect of seeing the wonderful valley made all hardships oflittle consequence. Quite a large party were waiting to mount theirdonkeys and mules when we arrived. One of the attendants, a man about asthin as a stair rod, asked me if I was the lady who had ordered a stronghorse; I being the stoutest of the party, he readily arrived at thatconclusion, so my steed was promptly produced. But I knew enough ofhorses and riding to see at a glance that he was a failure, with his lowwithers and high haunches, for descending steep mountains. In additionto his forward pitch, his back was immensely broad. Miss Anthony and Idecided to ride astride and had suits made for that purpose; but alas!my steed was so broad that I could not reach the stirrups, and themoment we began to descend, I felt as if I were going over his head. SoI fell behind, and, when the party had all gone forward, I dismounted, though my slender guide assured me there was no danger, he "had been upand down a thousand times. " But, as I had never been at all, hisrepeated experiences did not inspire me with courage. I decided to walk. That, the guide said, was impossible. "Well, " said I, by way ofcompromise, "I will walk as far as I can, and when I reach theimpossible, I will try that ill-constructed beast. I cannot see what youmen were thinking of when you selected such an animal for this journey. "And so we went slowly down, arguing the point whether it were better toride or walk; to trust one's own legs, or, by chance, be precipitatedthousands of feet down the mountain side. 

It was a hot August day; the sun, in the zenith, shining with fullpower. My blood was at boiling heat with exercise and vexation. Alternately sliding and walking, catching hold of rocks and twigs, drinking at every rivulet, covered with dust, dripping withperspiration, skirts, gloves, and shoes in tatters, for four long hoursI struggled down to the end, when I laid myself out on the grass, andfell asleep, perfectly exhausted, having sent the guide to tell Mr. Hutchins that I had reached the valley, and, as I could neither ride norwalk, to send a wheelbarrow, or four men with a blanket to transport meto the hotel. That very day the Mariposa Company had brought the firstcarriage into the valley, which, in due time, was sent to my relief. Miss Anthony, who, with a nice little Mexican pony and narrow saddle, had made her descent with grace and dignity, welcomed me on the steps ofthe hotel, and laughed immoderately at my helpless plight. 

As hour after hour had passed, she said, there had been a generalwonderment as to what had become of me; "but did you ever see suchmagnificent scenery?" "Alas!" I replied, "I have been in no mood forscenery. I have been constantly watching my hands and feet lest I shouldcome to grief. " The next day I was too stiff and sore to move a finger. However, in due time I awoke to the glory and grandeur of that wonderfulvalley, of which no descriptions nor paintings can give the least idea. With Sunset Cox, the leading Democratic statesman, and his wife, we hadmany pleasant excursions through the valley, and chats, during theevening, on the piazza. There was a constant succession of people goingand coming, even in that far-off region, and all had their adventures torelate. But none quite equaled my experiences. 

We spent a day in the Calaveras Grove, rested beneath the "big trees, "and rode on horseback through the fallen trunk of one of them. Somevandals sawed off one of the most magnificent specimens twenty feetabove the ground, and, on this the owners of the hotel built a littleoctagonal chapel. The polished wood, with bark for a border, made a verypretty floor. Here they often had Sunday services, as it held about onehundred people. Here, too, we discussed the suffrage question, amidthese majestic trees that had battled with the winds two thousandyears, and had probably never before listened to such rebellion as wepreached to the daughters of earth that day. 

Here, again, we found our distinguished statesmen immortalized, eachwith his namesake among these stately trees. We asked our guide if therewere any not yet appropriated, might we name them after women. As hereadily consented, we wrote on cards the names of a dozen leading women, and tacked them on their respective trees. Whether Lucretia Mott, LucyStone, Phoebe Couzins, and Anna Dickinson still retain their identity, and answer when called by the goddess Sylvia in that majestic grove, Iknow not. Twenty-five years have rolled by since then, and a newgeneration of visitors and guides may have left no trace of our workbehind them. But we whispered our hopes and aspirations to the trees, tobe wafted to the powers above, and we left them indelibly pictured onthe walls of the little chapel, and for more mortal eyes we scatteredleaflets wherever we went, and made all our pleasure trips so manypropaganda for woman's enfranchisement. 

Returning from California I made the journey straight through from SanFrancisco to New York. Though a long trip to make without a break, yet Ienjoyed every moment, as I found most charming companions in BishopJanes and his daughter. The Bishop being very liberal in his ideas, wediscussed the various theologies, and all phases of the woman question. I shall never forget those pleasant conversations as we sat outside onthe platform, day after day, and in the soft moonlight late at night. Wetook up the thread of our debate each morning where we had dropped itthe night before. The Bishop told me about the resolution to take theword "obey" from the marriage ceremony which he introduced, two yearsbefore, into the Methodist General Conference and carried with butlittle opposition. All praise to the Methodist Church! When our girlsare educated into a proper self-respect and laudable pride of sex, theywill scout all these old barbarisms of the past that point in any way tothe subject condition of women in either the State, the Church, or thehome. Until the other sects follow her example, I hope our girls willinsist on having their conjugal knots all tied by Methodist bishops. 

The Episcopal marriage service not only still clings to the word "obey, "but it has a most humiliating ceremony in giving the bride away. I wasnever more struck with its odious and ludicrous features than on onceseeing a tall, queenly-looking woman, magnificently arrayed, married byone of the tiniest priests that ever donned a surplice and gown, givenaway by the smallest guardian that ever watched a woman's fortunes, tothe feeblest, bluest-looking little groom that ever placed a weddingring on bridal finger. Seeing these Lilliputians around her, I thought, when the little priest said, "Who gives this woman to this man, " thatshe would take the responsibility and say, "I do, " but no! there shestood, calm, serene, as if it were no affair of hers, while the littleguardian, placing her hand in that of the little groom, said, "I do. "Thus was this stately woman bandied about by these three puny men, allof whom she might have gathered up in her arms and borne off to theirrespective places of abode. 

But women are gradually waking up to the degradation of theseceremonies. Not long since, at a wedding in high life, a beautiful girlof eighteen was struck dumb at the word "obey. " Three times the priestpronounced it with emphasis and holy unction, each time slower, louder, than before. Though the magnificent parlors were crowded, a breathlesssilence reigned. Father, mother, and groom were in agony. The bride, with downcast eyes, stood speechless. At length the priest slowly closedhis book and said, "The ceremony is at an end. " One imploring word fromthe groom, and a faint "obey" was heard in the solemn stillness. Thepriest unclasped his book and the knot was tied. The congratulations, feast, and all, went on as though there had been no break in theproceedings, but the lesson was remembered, and many a rebel made bythat short pause. 

I think all these reverend gentlemen who insist on the word "obey" inthe marriage service should be removed for a clear violation of theThirteenth Amendment to the Federal Constitution, which says there shallbe neither slavery nor involuntary servitude within the United States. As I gave these experiences to Bishop Janes he laughed heartily, andasked me to repeat them to each newcomer. Our little debating societywas the center of attraction. One gentleman asked me if our womansuffrage conventions were as entertaining. I told him yes; that therewere no meetings in Washington so interesting and so well attended asours. 

As I had some woman-suffrage literature in my valise, I distributedleaflets to all earnest souls who plied me with questions. Like allother things, it requires great discretion in sowing leaflets, lest youexpose yourself to a rebuff. I never offer one to a man with a smallhead and high heels on his boots, with his chin in the air, because Iknow, in the nature of things, that he will be jealous of superiorwomen; nor to a woman whose mouth has the "prunes and prisms"expression, for I know she will say, "I have all the rights I want. "Going up to London one day, a few years later, I noticed a saintlysister, belonging to the Salvation Army, timidly offering some leafletsto several persons on board; all coolly declined to receive them. Havinghad much experience in the joys and sorrows of propagandism, I put outmy hand and asked her to give them to me. I thanked her and read thembefore reaching London. It did me no harm and her much good in thinkingthat she might have planted a new idea in my mind. Whatever is given tous freely, I think, in common politeness, we should accept graciously. 

While I was enjoying once more the comforts of home, on the blue hillsof Jersey, Miss Anthony was lighting the fires of liberty on themountain tops of Oregon and Washington Territory. All through the monthsof October, November, and December, 1871, she was jolting about instages, over rough roads, speaking in every hamlet where a schoolhousewas to be found, and scattering our breezy leaflets to the four winds ofheaven. 

From 1869 to 1873 Miss Anthony and I made several trips through Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, and Nebraska, holding meetings at most of the chieftowns; I speaking in the afternoons to women alone on "Marriage andMaternity. " As Miss Anthony had other pressing engagements in Kansas andNebraska, I went alone to Texas, speaking in Dallas, Sherman, andHouston, where I was delayed two weeks by floods and thus preventedfrom going to Austin, Galveston, and some points in Louisiana, where Iwas advertised to lecture. In fact I lost all my appointments for amonth. However, there was a fine hotel in Houston and many pleasantpeople, among whom I made some valuable acquaintances. Beside severalpublic meetings, I had parlor talks and scattered leaflets, so that mytime was not lost. 

As the floods had upset my plans for the winter, I went straight fromHouston to New York over the Iron Mountain Railroad. I anticipated arather solitary trip; but, fortunately, I met General Baird, whom Iknew, and some other army officers, who had been down on the Mexicanborder to settle some troubles in the "free zone. " We amused ourselveson the long journey with whist and woman suffrage discussions. Wenoticed a dyspeptic-looking clergyman, evidently of a bilioustemperament, eying us very steadily and disapprovingly the first day, and in a quiet way we warned each other that, in due time, he would giveus a sermon on the sin of card playing. 

Sitting alone, early next morning, he seated himself by my side, andasked me if I would allow him to express his opinion on card playing. Isaid "Oh, yes! I fully believe in free speech. " "Well, " said he, "Inever touch cards. I think they are an invention of the devil to leadunwary souls from all serious thought of the stern duties of life andthe realities of eternity! I was sorry to see you, with your white hair, probably near the end of your earthly career, playing cards and talkingwith those reckless army officers, who delight in killing theirfellow-beings. No! I do not believe in war or card playing; such thingsdo not prepare the soul for heaven. " "Well, " said I, "you are quiteright, with your views, to abjure the society of army officers and allgames of cards. You, no doubt, enjoy your own thoughts and the book youare reading, more than you would the conversation of those gentlemen anda game of whist. We must regulate our conduct by our own highest ideal. While I deplore the necessity of war, yet I know in our Army many of thenoblest types of manhood, whose acquaintance I prize most highly. Ienjoy all games, too, from chess down to dominoes. There is so much thatis sad and stern in life that we need sometimes to lay down its burdensand indulge in innocent amusements. Thus, you see, what is wise from mystandpoint is unwise from yours. I am sorry that you repudiate allamusements, as they contribute to the health of body and soul. You aresorry that I do not think as you do and regulate my life accordingly. You are sure that you are right. I am equally sure that I am. Hencethere is nothing to be done in either case but to let each other alone, and wait for the slow process of evolution to give to each of us ahigher standard. " Just then one of the officers asked me if I was readyfor a game of whist, and I excused myself from further discussion. I metmany of those dolorous saints in my travels, who spent so much thoughton eternity and saving their souls that they lost all the joys of time, as well as those sweet virtues of courtesy and charity that might bestfit them for good works on earth and happiness in heaven. 

In the spring I went to Nebraska, and Miss Anthony and I again made aWestern tour, sometimes together and sometimes by different routes. Aconstitutional convention was in session in Lincoln, and it wasproposed to submit an amendment to strike the word "male" from theConstitution. Nebraska became a State in March, 1867, and took "Equalitybefore the law" as her motto. Her Territorial legislature had discussed, many times, proposed liberal legislation for women, and her Statelegislature had twice considered propositions for woman'senfranchisement. I had a valise with me containing Hon. Benjamin F. Butler's minority reports as a member of the Judiciary Committee of theUnited States House of Representatives, in favor of woman's right tovote under the Fourteenth Amendment. As we were crossing the PlatteRiver, in transferring the baggage to the boat, my valise fell into theriver. My heart stood still at the thought of such a fate for all thoseable arguments. After the great General had been in hot water all hislife, it was grievous to think of any of his lucubrations perishing incold water at last. Fortunately they were rescued. On reaching Lincoln Iwas escorted to the home of the Governor, where I spread the documentsin the sunshine, and they were soon ready to be distributed among themembers of the constitutional convention. 

After I had addressed the convention, some of the members called on meto discuss the points of my speech. All the gentlemen were serious andrespectful with one exception. A man with an unusually small head, diminutive form, and crooked legs tried, at my expense, to be witty andfacetious. During a brief pause in the conversation he brought his chairdirectly before me and said, in a mocking tone, "Don't you think thatthe best thing a woman can do is to perform well her part in the role ofwife and mother? My wife has presented me with eight beautifulchildren; is not this a better life-work than that of exercising theright of suffrage?"

I had had my eye on this man during the whole interview, and saw thatthe other members were annoyed at his behavior. I decided, when theopportune moment arrived, to give him an answer not soon to beforgotten; so I promptly replied to his question, as I slowly viewed himfrom head to foot, "I have met few men, in my life, worth repeatingeight times. " The members burst into a roar of laughter, and one ofthem, clapping him on the shoulder, said: "There, sonny, you have readand spelled; you better go. " This scene was heralded in all the Nebraskapapers, and, wherever the little man went, he was asked why Mrs. Stantonthought he was not worth repeating eight times. 

During my stay in Lincoln there was a celebration of the opening of somerailroad. An immense crowd from miles about assembled on this occasion. The collation was spread and speeches were made in the open air. The mencongratulated each other on the wonderful progress the State had madesince it became an organized Territory in 1854. There was not theslightest reference, at first, to the women. One speaker said: "ThisState was settled by three brothers, John, James, and Joseph, and fromthem have sprung the great concourse of people that greet us hereto-day. " I turned, and asked the Governor if all these people hadsprung, Minerva-like, from the brains of John, James, and Joseph. Heurged me to put that question to the speaker; so, in one of his eloquentpauses, I propounded the query, which was greeted with loud andprolonged cheers, to the evident satisfaction of the women present. Thenext speaker took good care to give the due meed of praise to Ann, Jane, and Mary, and to every mention of the mothers of Nebraska the crowdheartily responded. 

In toasting "the women of Nebraska, " at the collation, I said: "Here'sto the mothers, who came hither by long, tedious journeys, closelypacked with restless children in emigrant wagons, cooking the meals byday, and nursing the babies by night, while the men slept. Leavingcomfortable homes in the East, they endured all the hardships of pioneerlife, suffered, with the men, the attacks of the Dakota Indians and theconstant apprehension of savage raids, of prairie fires, and thedevastating locusts. Man's trials, his fears, his losses, all fell onwoman with double force; yet history is silent concerning the part womanperformed in the frontier life of the early settlers. Men make nomention of her heroism and divine patience; they take no thought of themental or physical agonies women endure in the perils of maternity, ofttimes without nurse or physician in the supreme hour of their need, going, as every mother does, to the very gates of death in giving lifeto an immortal being!"

Traveling all over these Western States in the early days, seeing theprivations women suffered, and listening to the tales of sorrow at thefireside, I wondered that men could ever forget the debt of gratitudethey owed to their mothers, or fail to commemorate their part in thegrowth of a great people. Yet the men of Nebraska have twice defeatedthe woman suffrage amendment. 

In 1874 Michigan was the point of interest to all those who had takenpart in the woman-suffrage movement. The legislature, by a very largemajority, submitted to a vote of the electors an amendment of theConstitution, in favor of striking out the word "male" and thus securingcivil and political rights to the women of the State. It was a veryactive campaign. Crowded meetings were held in all the chief towns andcities. Professor Moses Coit Tyler, and a large number of ministerspreached, every Sunday, on the subject of woman's position. TheMethodist conference passed a resolution in favor of the amendment by aunanimous vote. I was in the State during the intense heat of May andJune, speaking every evening to large audiences; in the afternoon towomen alone, and preaching every Sunday in some pulpit. The Methodists, Universalists, Unitarians, and Quakers all threw open their churches tothe apostles of the new gospel of equality for women. We spoke in jails, prisons, asylums, depots, and the open air. Wherever there were ears tohear, we lifted up our voices, and, on the wings of the wind, the gladtidings were carried to the remote corners of the State, and the votesof forty thousand men, on election day, in favor of the amendment wereso many testimonials to the value of the educational work accomplished. 

I made many valuable acquaintances, on that trip, with whom I havemaintained lifelong friendships. One pleasant day I passed in the homeof Governor Bagley and his wife, with a group of pretty children. Ifound the Governor deeply interested in prison reform. He had beeninstrumental in passing a law giving prisoners lights in their cells andpleasant reading matter until nine o'clock. His ideas of what prisonsshould be, as unfolded that day, have since been fully realized in thegrand experiment now being successfully tried at Elmira, New York. 

I visited the State prison at Jackson, and addressed seven hundred menand boys, ranging from seventy down to seventeen years of age. Seated onthe dais with the chaplain, I saw them file in to dinner, and, whilethey were eating, I had an opportunity to study the sad, despairingfaces before me. I shall never forget the hopeless expression of oneyoung man, who had just been sentenced for twenty years, nor how ashamedI felt that one of my own sex, trifling with two lovers, had fanned thejealousy of one against the other, until the tragedy ended in the deathof one and the almost lifelong imprisonment of the other. If girlsshould be truthful and transparent in any relations in life, surely itis in those of love, involving the strongest passions of which humannature is capable. As the chaplain told me the sad story, and I noticedthe prisoner's refined face and well-shaped head, I felt that the youngman was not under the right influences to learn the lesson he needed. Fear, coercion, punishment, are the masculine remedies for moralweakness, but statistics show their failure for centuries. Why notchange the system and try the education of the moral and intellectualfaculties, cheerful surroundings, inspiring influences? Everything inour present system tends to lower the physical vitality, theself-respect, the moral tone, and to harden instead of reforming thecriminal. 

My heart was so heavy I did not know what to say to such an assembly ofthe miserable. I asked the chaplain what I should say. "Just what youplease, " he replied. Thinking they had probably heard enough of theirsins, their souls, and the plan of salvation, I thought I would givethem the news of the day. So I told them about the woman suffrageamendment, what I was doing in the State, my amusing encounters withopponents, their arguments, my answers. I told them of the great changesthat would be effected in prison life when the mothers of the nation hada voice in the buildings and discipline. I told them what GovernorBagley said, and of the good time coming when prisons would no longer beplaces of punishment but schools of reformation. To show them what womenwould do to realize this beautiful dream, I told them of Elizabeth Fryand Dorothea L. Dix, of Mrs. Farnham's experiment at Sing Sing, andLouise Michel's in New Caledonia, and, in closing, I said: "Now I wantall of you who are in favor of the amendment to hold up your righthands. " They gave a unanimous vote, and laughed heartily when I said, "Ido wish you could all go to the polls in November and that we could lockour opponents up here until after the election. " I felt satisfied thatthey had had one happy hour, and that I had said nothing to hurt thefeelings of the most unfortunate. As they filed off to their respectiveworkshops my faith and hope for brighter days went with them. Then Iwent all through the prison. Everything looked clean and comfortable onthe surface, but I met a few days after a man, just set free, who hadbeen there five years for forgery. He told me the true inwardness of thesystem; of the wretched, dreary life they suffered, and the brutality ofthe keepers. He said the prison was infested with mice and vermin, andthat, during the five years he was there, he had never lain down onenight to undisturbed slumber. The sufferings endured in summer for wantof air, he said, were indescribable. In this prison the cells were inthe center of the building, the corridors running all around by thewindows, so the prisoners had no outlook and no direct contact with theair. Hence, if a careless keeper forgot to open the windows after astorm, the poor prisoners panted for air in their cells, like fish outof water. My informant worked in the mattress department, over the roomwhere prisoners were punished. He said he could hear the lash and thescreams of the victims from morning till night. "Hard as the work is allday, " said he, "it is a blessed relief to get out of our cells to marchacross the yard and get one glimpse of the heavens above, and one breathof pure air, and to be in contact with other human souls in theworkshops, for, although we could never speak to each other, yet therewas a hidden current of sympathy conveyed by look that made us one inour misery. "

Though the press of the State was largely in our favor, yet there weresome editors who, having no arguments, exercised the little wit they didpossess in low ridicule. It was in this campaign that an editor in aKalamazoo journal said: "That ancient daughter of Methuselah, Susan B. Anthony, passed through our city yesterday, on her way to the Plainwellmeeting, with a bonnet on her head looking as if it had recentlydescended from Noah's ark. " Miss Anthony often referred to thisdescription of herself, and said, "Had I represented twenty thousandvoters in Michigan, that political editor would not have known nor caredwhether I was the oldest or the youngest daughter of Methuselah, orwhether my bonnet came from the ark or from Worth's. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE SPIRIT OF '76. 

The year 1876 was one of intense excitement and laborious activitythroughout the country. The anticipation of the centennial birthday ofthe Republic, to be celebrated in Philadelphia, stirred the patriotismof the people to the highest point of enthusiasm. As each State was tobe represented in the great exhibition, local pride added anotherelement to the public interest. Then, too, everyone who could possiblyafford the journey was making busy preparations to spend the Fourth ofJuly, the natal day of the Republic, mid the scenes where theDeclaration of Independence was issued in 1776, the Governmentinaugurated, and the first national councils were held. Those interestedin women's political rights decided to make the Fourth a woman's day, and to celebrate the occasion, in their various localities, bydelivering orations and reading their own declaration of rights, withdinners and picnics in the town halls or groves, as most convenient. Butmany from every State in the Union made their arrangements to spend thehistoric period in Philadelphia. Owing, also, to the large number offoreigners who came over to join in the festivities, that city wascrammed to its utmost capacity. With the crowd and excessive heat, comfort was everywhere sacrificed to curiosity. 

The enthusiasm throughout the country had given a fresh impulse to thelyceum bureaus. Like the ferryboats in New York harbor, running hitherand thither, crossing each other's tracks, the whole list of lecturerswere on the wing, flying to every town and city from San Francisco toNew York. As soon as a new railroad ran through a village of fivehundred inhabitants that could boast a schoolhouse, a church, or ahotel, and one enterprising man or woman, a course of lectures was atonce inaugurated as a part of the winter's entertainments. 

On one occasion I was invited, by mistake, to a little town to lecturethe same evening when the Christy Minstrels were to perform. It wasarranged, as the town had only one hall, that I should speak from sevento eight o'clock and the minstrels should have the remainder of thetime. One may readily see that, with the minstrels in anticipation, alecture on any serious question would occupy but a small place in thehearts of the people in a town where they seldom had entertainments ofany kind. All the time I was speaking there was a running to and frobehind the scenes, where the minstrels were transforming themselves withpaints and curly wigs into Africans, and laughing at each other's jests. As it was a warm evening, and the windows were open, the hilarity of theboys in the street added to the general din. Under such circumstances itwas difficult to preserve my equilibrium. I felt like laughing at my owncomical predicament, and I decided to make my address a medley ofanecdotes and stories, like a string of beads, held together by a finethread of argument and illustration. The moment the hand of the clockpointed at eight o'clock the band struck up, thus announcing that thehappy hour for the minstrels had come. Those of my audience who wishedto stay were offered seats at half price; those who did not, slippedout, and the crowd rushed in, soon packing the house to its utmostcapacity. I stayed, and enjoyed the performance of the minstrels morethan I had my own. 

As the lyceum season lasted from October to June, I was late in reachingPhiladelphia. Miss Anthony and Mrs. Gage had already been through theagony of finding appropriate headquarters for the National SuffrageAssociation. I found them pleasantly situated on the lower floor of No. 1431 Chestnut Street, with the work for the coming month clearly mappedout. As it was the year for nominating candidates for the presidency ofthe United States, the Republicans and Democrats were about to holdtheir great' conventions. Hence letters were to be written to themrecommending a woman suffrage plank in their platforms, and asking seatsfor women in the conventions, with the privilege of being heard in theirown behalf. On these letters our united wisdom was concentrated, andtwenty thousand copies of each were published. 

Then it was thought pre-eminently proper that a Woman's Declaration ofRights should be issued. Days and nights were spent over that document. After many twists from our analytical tweezers, with a criticalconsideration of every word and sentence, it was at last, by a consensusof the competent, pronounced very good. Thousands were ordered to beprinted, and were folded, put in envelopes, stamped, directed, andscattered. Miss Anthony, Mrs. Gage, and I worked sixteen hours, day andnight, pressing everyone who came in, into the service, and late atnight carrying immense bundles to be mailed. With meetings, receptions, and a succession of visitors, all of whom we plied with woman suffrageliterature, we felt we had accomplished a great educational work. 

Among the most enjoyable experiences at our headquarters were thefrequent visits of our beloved Lucretia Mott, who used to come from hercountry home bringing us eggs, cold chickens, and fine Oolong tea. Asshe had presented us with a little black teapot that, like Mercury'smysterious pitcher of milk, filled itself for every coming guest, weoften improvised luncheons with a few friends. At parting, Lucretiaalways made a contribution to our depleted treasury. Here we had manyprolonged discussions as to the part we should take, on the Fourth ofJuly, in the public celebration. We thought it would be fitting for usto read our Declaration of Rights immediately after that of the Fatherswas read, as an impeachment of them and their male descendants for theirinjustice and oppression. Ours contained as many counts, and quite asimportant, as those against King George in 1776. Accordingly, we appliedto the authorities to allow us seats on the platform and a place in theprogramme of the public celebration, which was to be held in thehistoric old Independence Hall. As General Hawley was in charge of thearrangements for the day, I wrote him as follows:

 "1431 Chestnut Street, July 1, 1876. 

 "General Hawley. 

 "_Honored Sir_: As President of the National Woman's Suffrage Association, I am authorized to ask you for tickets to the platform, at Independence Hall, for the celebration on the Fourth of July. We should like to have seats for at least one representative woman from each State. We also ask your permission to read our Declaration of Rights immediately after the reading of the Declaration of Independence of the Fathers is finished. Although these are small favors to ask as representatives of one-half of the nation, yet we shall be under great obligations to you if granted. 

 "Respectfully Yours, "Elizabeth Cady Stanton. "

To this I received the following reply:

 "U. S. C. C. Headquarters, July 2. 

 "Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton. 

 "_Dear Madam_: I send you, with pleasure, half a dozen cards of invitation. As the platform is already crowded, it is impossible to reserve the number of seats you desire. I regret to say it is also impossible for us to make any change in the programme at this late hour. We are crowded for time to carry out what is already proposed. 

 "Yours Very Respectfully, "Joseph R. Hawley, "President, U. S. C. C. "

With this rebuff, Mrs. Mott and I decided that we would not accept theoffered seats, but would be ready to open our own convention called forthat day, at the First Unitarian church, where the Rev. William H. Furness had preached for fifty years. But some of our younger coadjutorsdecided that they would occupy the seats and present our Declaration ofRights. They said truly, women will be taxed to pay the expenses ofthis celebration, and we have as good a right to that platform and tothe ears of the people as the men have, and we will be heard. 

That historic Fourth of July dawned at last, one of the most oppressivedays of that heated season. Susan B. Anthony, Matilda Joslyn Gage, SaraAndrews Spencer, Lillie Devereux Blake, and Phoebe W. Couzins made theirway through the crowds under the broiling sun of Independence Square, carrying the Woman's Declaration of Rights. This Declaration had beenhandsomely engrossed by one of their number, and signed by the oldestand most prominent advocates of woman's enfranchisement. Their ticketsof admission proved an "open sesame" through the military barriers, and, a few moments before the opening of the ceremonies, these women foundthemselves within the precincts from which most of their sex wereexcluded. 

The Declaration of 1776 was read by Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, aboutwhose family clusters so much historic fame. The moment he finishedreading was determined upon as the appropriate time for the presentationof the Woman's Declaration. Not quite sure how their approach might bemet, not quite certain if, at this final moment, they would be permittedto reach the presiding officer, those ladies arose and made their waydown the aisle. The bustle of preparation for the Brazilian hymn coveredtheir advance. The foreign guests and the military and civil officerswho filled the space directly in front of the speaker's stand, courteously made way, while Miss Anthony, in fitting words, presentedthe Declaration to the presiding officer. Senator Ferry's face paled as, bowing low, with no word he received the Declaration, which thus becamepart of the day's proceedings. The ladies turned, scattering printedcopies as they deliberately walked down the platform. On every sideeager hands were outstretched, men stood on seats and asked for them, while General Hawley, thus defied and beaten in his audacious denial towomen of the right to present their Declaration, shouted, "Order, order!"

Passing out, these ladies made their way to a platform, erected for themusicians, in front of Independence Hall. Here, under the shadow ofWashington's statue, back of them the old bell that proclaimed "libertyto all the land and all the inhabitants thereof, " they took theirplaces, and, to a listening, applauding crowd, Miss Anthony read theWoman's Declaration. During the reading of the Declaration, Mrs. Gagestood beside Miss Anthony and held an umbrella over her head, to shelterher friend from the intense heat of the noonday sun. And thus in thesame hour, on opposite sides of old Independence Hall, did the men andwomen express their opinions on the great principles proclaimed on thenatal day of the Republic. The Declaration was handsomely framed, andnow hangs in the Vice President's room in the Capitol at Washington. 

These heroic ladies then hurried from Independence Hall to the church, already crowded with an expectant audience, to whom they gave a fullreport of the morning's proceedings. The Hutchinsons of worldwide famewere present in their happiest vein, interspersing the speeches withappropriate songs and felicitous remarks. For five long hours on thathot midsummer day a crowded audience, many standing, listened withprofound interest and reluctantly dispersed at last, all agreeing thatit was one of the most impressive and enthusiastic meetings they hadever attended. 

All through our Civil War the slaves on the Southern plantations had anabiding faith that the terrible conflict would result in freedom fortheir race. Just so through all the busy preparations of the Centennial, the women of the nation felt sure that the great national celebrationcould not pass without the concession of some new liberties to them. Hence they pressed their claims at every point, at the Fourth of Julycelebration in the exposition buildings, and in the Republican andDemocratic nominating conventions; hoping to get a plank in theplatforms of both the great political parties. 

The Woman's Pavilion upon the centennial grounds was an afterthought, astheologians claim woman herself to have been. The women of the country, after having contributed nearly one hundred thousand dollars to thecentennial stock, found there had been no provision made for theseparate exhibition of their work. The centennial board, of which Mrs. Gillespie was president, then decided to raise funds for the erection ofa separate building, to be known as the Woman's Pavilion. It covered anacre of ground, and was erected at an expense of thirty thousanddollars--a small sum in comparison with the money which had been raisedby women and expended on the other buildings, not to speak of the Stateand national appropriations, which the taxes levied on them had largelyhelped to swell. 

The Pavilion was no true exhibit of woman's art. Few women are, as yet, owners of the business which their industry largely makes remunerative. Cotton factories, in which thousands of women work, are owned by men. The shoe business, in some branches of which women are doing more thanhalf the work, is under the ownership of men. Rich embroideries fromIndia, rugs of downy softness from Turkey, the muslin of Decca, anciently known as "The Woven Wind, " the pottery and majolica ware of P. Pipsen's widow, the cartridges and envelopes of Uncle Sam, Walthamwatches, whose finest mechanical work is done by women, and ten thousandother industries found no place in the pavilion. Said United StatesCommissioner Meeker of Colorado, "Woman's work comprises three-fourthsof the exposition; it is scattered through every building; take it away, and there would be no exposition. "

But this pavilion rendered one good service to woman in showing hercapabilities as an engineer. The boiler, which furnished the force forrunning its work, was under the charge of a young Canadian girl, MissAllison, who, from childhood, had loved machinery, spending much time inthe large saw and grist mills of her father, run by engines of two andthree hundred horse-power, which she sometimes managed for amusement. When her name was proposed for running the pavilion machinery, it causedmuch opposition. It was said that the committee would, some day, findthe pavilion blown to atoms; that the woman engineer would spend hertime reading novels instead of watching the steam gauge; that the ideawas impracticable and should not be thought of. But Miss Allison soonproved her capabilities and the falseness of these prophecies by takingher place in the engine room and managing its workings with perfectease. Six power looms, on which women wove carpets, webbing, silks, etc. , were run by this engine. At a later period the printing of _TheNew Century for Woman_, a paper published by the centennial commissionin the woman's building, was done by its means. Miss Allison declaredthe work to be more cleanly, more pleasant, and infinitely lessfatiguing than cooking over a kitchen stove. "Since I have beencompelled to earn my own living, " she said, "I have never been engagedin work I like so well. Teaching school is much harder, and one is notpaid so well. " She expressed her confidence in her ability to manage theengines of an ocean steamer, and said that there were thousands of smallengines in use in various parts of the country, and no reason existedwhy women should not be employed to manage them, --following theprofession of engineer as a regular business, --an engine requiring farless attention than is given by a nursemaid or a mother to a child. 

But to have made the Woman's Pavilion grandly historic, upon its wallsshould have been hung the yearly protest of Harriet K. Hunt againsttaxation without representation; the legal papers served upon the Smithsisters when, for their refusal to pay taxes while unrepresented, theirAlderney cows were seized and sold; the papers issued by the city ofWorcester for the forced sale of the house and lands of Abby KellyFoster, the veteran abolitionist, because she refused to pay taxes, giving the same reason our ancestors gave when they resisted taxation; amodel of Bunker Hill monument, its foundation laid by Lafayette in 1825, but which remained unfinished nearly twenty years, until the famousGerman danseuse, Fanny Ellsler, gave the proceeds of a publicperformance for that purpose. With these should have been exhibitedframed copies of all the laws bearing unjustly upon women--those whichrob her of her name, her earnings, her property, her children, herperson; also the legal papers in the case of Susan B. Anthony, who wastried and fined for claiming her right to vote under the FourteenthAmendment, and the decision of Mr. Justice Miller in the case of MyraBradwell, denying national protection for woman's civil rights; and thelater decision of Chief Justice Waite of the United States Supreme Courtagainst Virginia L. Minor, denying women national protection for theirpolitical rights; decisions in favor of State rights which imperil theliberties not only of all women, but of every white man in the nation. 

Woman's most fitting contributions to the Centennial Exposition wouldhave been these protests, laws, and decisions, which show her politicalslavery. But all this was left for rooms outside of the centennialgrounds, upon Chestnut Street, where the National Woman's SuffrageAssociation hoisted its flag, made its protests, and wrote theDeclaration of Rights of the women of the United States. 

To many thoughtful people it seemed captious and unreasonable for womento complain of injustice in this free land, amidst such universalrejoicings. When the majority of women are seemingly happy, it isnatural to suppose that the discontent of the minority is the result oftheir unfortunate individual idiosyncrasies, and not of adverseinfluences in established conditions. But the history of the world showsthat the vast majority, in every generation, passively accept theconditions into which they are born, while those who demanded largerliberties are ever a small, ostracized minority, whose claims areridiculed and ignored. From our standpoint we would honor any Chinesewoman who claimed the right to her feet and powers of locomotion; theHindoo widows who refused to ascend the funeral pyre of their husbands;the Turkish women who threw off their masks and veils and left theharem; the Mormon women who abjured their faith and demanded monogamicrelations. Why not equally honor the intelligent minority of Americanwomen who protest against the artificial disabilities by which theirfreedom is limited and their development arrested? That only a few, under any circumstances, protest against the injustice oflong-established laws and customs, does not disprove the fact of theoppressions, while the satisfaction of the many, if real, only provestheir apathy and deeper degradation. That a majority of the women of theUnited States accept, without protest, the disabilities which grow outof their disfranchisement is simply an evidence of their ignorance andcowardice, while the minority who demand a higher political statusclearly prove their superior intelligence and wisdom. 

At the close of the Forty-seventh Congress we made two new demands:First, for a special committee to consider all questions in regard tothe civil and political rights of women. We naturally asked thequestion, As Congress has a special committee on the rights of Indians, why not on those of women? Are not women, as a factor in civilization, of more importance than Indians? Secondly, we asked for a room, in theCapitol, where our committee could meet, undisturbed, whenever they sawfit. Though these points were debated a long time, our demands wereacceded to at last. We now have our special committee, and our room, with "Woman Suffrage" in gilt letters, over the door. In our struggleto achieve this, while our champion, the senior Senator fromMassachusetts, stood up bravely in the discussion, the opposition notonly ridiculed the special demand, but all attempts to secure the civiland political rights of women. As an example of the arguments of theopposition, I give what the Senator from Missouri said. It is a fairspecimen of all that was produced on that side of the debate. Mr. Vest'spoetical flights are most inspiring:

 "The Senate now has forty-one committees, with a small army of messengers and clerks, one-half of whom, without exaggeration, are literally without employment. I shall not pretend to specify the committees of this body which have not one single bill, resolution, or proposition of any sort pending before them, and have not had for months. But, Mr. President, out of all committees without business, and habitually without business, in this body, there is one that, beyond any question, could take jurisdiction of this matter and do it ample justice. I refer to that most respectable and antique institution, the Committee on Revolutionary Claims. For thirty years it has been without business. For thirty long years the placid surface of that parliamentary sea has been without one single ripple. If the Senator from Massachusetts desires a tribunal for a calm, judicial equilibrium and examination--a tribunal far from the 'madding crowd's ignoble strife'--a tribunal eminently respectable, dignified and unique; why not send this question to the Committee on Revolutionary Claims? It is eminently proper that this subject should go to that committee because, if there is any revolutionary claim in this country, it is that of woman suffrage. (Laughter. ) It revolutionizes society; it revolutionizes religion; it revolutionizes the Constitution and laws; and it revolutionizes the opinions of those so old-fashioned among us as to believe that the legitimate and proper sphere of woman is the family circle, as wife and mother, and not as politician and voter--those of us who are proud to believe that

 "Woman's noblest station is retreat: Her fairest virtues fly from public sight; Domestic worth--that shuns too strong a light. 

 "Before that Committee on Revolutionary Claims why could not this most revolutionary of all claims receive immediate and ample attention? More than that, as I said before, if there is any tribunal that could give undivided time and dignified attention, is it not this committee? If there is one peaceful haven of rest, never disturbed by any profane bill or resolution of any sort, it is the Committee on Revolutionary Claims. It is, in parliamentary life, described by that ecstatic verse in Watts' hymn--

 "There shall I bathe my wearied soul In seas of endless rest. And not one wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast. 

 "By all natural laws, stagnation breeds disease and death, and what could stir up this most venerable and respectable institution more than an application of the strong-minded, with short hair and shorter skirts, invading its dignified realm and elucidating all the excellences of female suffrage. Moreover, if these ladies could ever succeed in the providence of God in obtaining a report from that committee, it would end this question forever; for the public at large and myself included, in view of that miracle of female blandishment and female influence, would surrender at once, and female suffrage would become constitutional and lawful. Sir, I insist upon it that, in deference to this committee, in deference to the fact that it needs this sort of regimen and medicine, this whole subject should be so referred. "

This gives a very fair idea of the character of the arguments producedby our opponents, from the inauguration of the movement. But, as thereare no arguments in a republican government in favor of an aristocracyof sex, ridicule was really the only available weapon. After declaring"that no just government can be formed without the consent of thegoverned, " "that taxation without representation is tyranny, " it isdifficult to see on what basis one-half the people are disfranchised. 

CHAPTER XX. 

WRITING "THE HISTORY OF WOMAN SUFFRAGE. "

The four years following the Centennial were busy, happy ones, of variedinterests and employments, public and private. Sons and daughtersgraduating from college, bringing troops of young friends to visit us;the usual matrimonial entanglements, with all their promises ofcelestial bliss intertwined with earthly doubts and fears; weddings, voyages to Europe, business ventures--in this whirl of plans andprojects our heads, hearts, and hands were fully occupied. Seven boysand girls dancing round the fireside, buoyant with all life's joysopening before them, are enough to keep the most apathetic parents onthe watch-towers by day and anxious even in dreamland by night. My sparetime, if it can be said that I ever had any, was given during these daysto social festivities. The inevitable dinners, teas, picnics, and danceswith country neighbors, all came round in quick succession. We lived, atthis time, at Tenafly, New Jersey, not far from the publisher of the_Sun_, Isaac W. England, who also had seven boys and girls as full offrolic as our own. Mrs. England and I entered into all their games withequal zest. The youngest thought half the fun was to see our enthusiasmin "blindman's buff, " "fox and geese, " and "bean bags. " It thrills mewith delight, even now, to see these games!

Mr. England was the soul of hospitality. He was never more happy thanwhen his house was crowded with guests, and his larder with all thedelicacies of the season. Though he and Mr. Stanton were both connectedwith that dignified journal, the New York _Sun_, yet they often joinedin the general hilarity. I laugh, as I write, at the memory of all thefrolics we had on the blue hills of Jersey. 

In addition to the domestic cares which a large family involved, Mrs. Gage, Miss Anthony, and I were already busy collecting material for "TheHistory of Woman Suffrage. " This required no end of correspondence. Thenmy lecturing trips were still a part of the annual programme. Washingtonconventions, too, with calls, appeals, resolutions, speeches andhearings before the Committees of Congress and State legislatures, allthese came round in the year's proceedings as regularly as pumpkin piesfor Thanksgiving, plum pudding for Christmas, and patriotism forWashington's birthday. Those who speak for glory or philanthropy arealways in demand for college commencements and Fourth of July orations, hence much of Miss Anthony's eloquence, as well as my own, was utilizedin this way. 

On October 18, 1880, I had an impromptu dinner party. Elizabeth BoyntonHarbert, May Wright Thompson (now Sewall), Phoebe W. Couzins, andArethusa Forbes, returning from a Boston convention, all by chance metunder my roof. We had a very merry time talking over the incidents ofthe convention, Boston proprieties, and the general situation. As I gavethem many early reminiscences, they asked if I had kept a diary. "No, " Isaid, "not a pen scratch of the past have I except what might begathered from many family letters. " They urged me to begin a diary atonce; so I promised I would on my coming birthday. 

My great grief that day was that we were putting in a new range, and hadmade no preparations for dinner. This completely upset the presidinggenius of my culinary department, as she could not give us the bounteousfeast she knew was expected on such occasions. I, as usual, when therewas any lack in the viands, tried to be as brilliant as possible inconversation; discussing Nirvana, Karma, reincarnation, and thus turningattention from the evanescent things of earth to the joys of a life tocome, --not an easy feat to perform with strong-minded women, --but, inparting, they seemed happy and refreshed, and all promised to comeagain. 

But we shall never meet there again, as the old, familiar oaks and themajestic chestnut trees have passed into other hands. Strange lovers nowwhisper their vows of faith and trust under the tree where a mostcharming wedding ceremony--that of my daughter Margaret--was solemnizedone bright October day. All Nature seemed to do her utmost to heightenthe beauty of the occasion. The verdure was brilliant with autumnaltints, the hazy noonday sun lent a peculiar softness to everyshadow--even the birds and insects were hushed to silence. As thewedding march rose soft and clear, two stately ushers led the way; thena group of Vassar classmates, gayly decked in silks of different colors, followed by the bride and groom. An immense Saint Bernard dog, on hisown account brought up the rear, keeping time with measured tread. Hetook his seat in full view, watching, alternately, the officiatingclergyman, the bride and groom, and guests, as if to say: "What doesall this mean?" No one behaved with more propriety and no one lookedmore radiant than he, with a ray of sunlight on his beautiful coat oflong hair, his bright brass collar, and his wonderful head. Bruno didnot live to see the old home broken up, but sleeps peacefully there, under the chestnut trees, and fills a large place in many of ourpleasant memories. 

On November 12, 1880, I was sixty-five years old, and, pursuant to mypromise, I then began my diary. It was a bright, sunny day, but thefrost king was at work; all my grand old trees, that stood likesentinels, to mark the boundary of my domain, were stripped of theirfoliage, and their brilliant colors had faded into a uniform brown; butthe evergreens and the tall, prim cedars held their own, and, whencovered with snow, their exquisite beauty brought tears to my eyes. Oneneed never be lonely mid beautiful trees. 

My thoughts were with my absent children--Harriot in France, Theodore inGermany, Margaret with her husband and brother Gerrit, halfway acrossthe continent, and Bob still in college. I spent the day writing lettersand walking up and down the piazza, and enjoyed, from my windows, aglorious sunset. Alone, on birthdays or holidays, one is very apt toindulge in sad retrospections. The thought of how much more I might havedone for the perfect development of my children than I had accomplished, depressed me. I thought of all the blunders in my own life and in theireducation. Little has been said of the responsibilities of parentallife; accordingly little or nothing has been done. I had such visions ofparental duties that day that I came to the conclusion that parentsnever could pay the debt they owe their children for bringing them intothis world of suffering, unless they can insure them sound minds insound bodies, and enough of the good things of this life to enable themto live without a continual struggle for the necessaries of existence. Ihave no sympathy with the old idea that children owe parents a debt ofgratitude for the simple fact of existence, generally conferred withoutthought and merely for their own pleasure. How seldom we hear of anyhigh or holy preparation for the office of parenthood! Here, in the mostmomentous act of life, all is left to chance. Men and women, intelligentand prudent in all other directions, seem to exercise no forethoughthere, but hand down their individual and family idiosyncrasies in themost reckless mariner. 

On November 13 the New York _Tribune_ announced the death of LucretiaMott, eighty-eight years old. Having known her in the flush of life, when all her faculties were at their zenith, and in the repose of age, when her powers began to wane, her withdrawal from among us seemed asbeautiful and natural as the changing foliage, from summer to autumn, ofsome grand old oak I have watched and loved. 

The arrival of Miss Anthony and Mrs. Gage, on November 20, banished allfamily matters from my mind. What planning, now, for volumes, chapters, footnotes, margins, appendices, paper, and type; of engravings, title, preface, and introduction! I had never thought that the publication of abook required the consideration of such endless details. We stoodappalled before the mass of material, growing higher and higher withevery mail, and the thought of all the reading involved made us feel asif our lifework lay before us. Six weeks of steady labor all day, andoften until midnight, made no visible decrease in the pile of documents. However, before the end of the month we had our arrangements all madewith publishers and engravers, and six chapters in print. When we beganto correct proof we felt as if something was accomplished. Thus weworked through the winter and far into the spring, with no change exceptthe Washington Convention and an occasional evening meeting in New Yorkcity. We had frequent visits from friends whom we were glad to see. Hither came Edward M. Davis, Sarah Pugh, Adeline Thompson, FrederickCabot of Boston, Dr. William F. Channing, and sweet little Clara Spence, who recited for us some of the most beautiful selections in herrepertoire. 

In addition we had numberless letters from friends and foes, somepraising and some condemning our proposed undertaking, and, though muchalone, we were kept in touch with the outside world. But so conflictingwas the tone of the letters that, if we had not taken a very fair gaugeof ourselves and our advisers, we should have abandoned our project andburied all the valuable material collected, to sleep in pine boxesforever. 

At this time I received a very amusing letter from the Rev. RobertCollyer, on "literary righteousness, " quizzing me for using one of hisanecdotes in my sketch of Lucretia Mott, without giving him credit. Ilaughed him to scorn, that he should have thought it was my duty to havedone so. I told him plainly that he belonged to a class of "white malecitizens, " who had robbed me of all civil and political rights; ofproperty, children, and personal freedom; and now it ill became him tocall me to account for using one of his little anecdotes that, ten toone, he had cribbed from some woman. I told him that I considered hiswhole class as fair game for literary pilfering. That women had beentaxed to build colleges to educate men, and if we could pick up aliterary crumb that had fallen from their feasts, we surely had a rightto it. Moreover, I told him that man's duty in the world was to work, todig and delve for jewels, real and ideal, and lay them at woman's feet, for her to use as she might see fit; that he should feel highlycomplimented, instead of complaining, that he had written something Ithought worth using. He answered like the nobleman he is; susceptible oftaking in a new idea. He admitted that, in view of the shortcomings ofhis entire sex, he had not one word to say in the way of accusation, butlay prostrate at my feet in sackcloth and ashes, wondering that he hadnot taken my view of the case in starting. 

Only twice in my life have I been accused of quoting without giving duecredit. The other case was that of Matilda Joslyn Gage. I had, on two orthree occasions, used a motto of hers in autograph books, just as I hadsentiments from Longfellow, Lowell, Shakespeare, Moses, or Paul. In longlyceum trips innumerable autograph books met one at every turn, in thecars, depots, on the platform, at the hotel and in the omnibus. "Asentiment, please, " cry half a dozen voices. One writes hastilydifferent sentiments for each. In this way I unfortunately used a petsentiment of Matilda's. So, here and now, I say to my autographadmirers, from New York to San Francisco, whenever you see "There is aword sweeter than Mother, Home, or Heaven--that word is Liberty, "remember it belongs to Matilda Joslyn Gage. I hope, now, that Robert andMatilda will say, in their posthumous works, that I made the _amendehonorable_, as I always strive to do when friends feel they have notbeen fairly treated. 

In May, 1881, the first volume of our History appeared; it was anoctavo, containing 871 pages, with good paper, good print, handsomeengravings, and nicely bound. I welcomed it with the same feeling oflove and tenderness as I did my firstborn. I took the same pleasure inhearing it praised and felt the same mortification in hearing itcriticised. The most hearty welcome it received was from Rev. WilliamHenry Channing. He wrote us that it was as interesting and fascinatingas a novel. He gave it a most flattering notice in one of the Londonpapers. John W. Forney, too, wrote a good review and sent a friendlyletter. Mayo W. Hazeltine, one of the ablest critics in this country, inthe New York _Sun_, also gave it a very careful and complimentaryreview. In fact, we received far more praise and less blame than weanticipated. We began the second volume in June. In reading over thematerial concerning woman's work in the War, I felt how little ourlabors are appreciated. Who can sum up all the ills the women of anation suffer from war? They have all of the misery and none of theglory; nothing to mitigate their weary waiting and watching for theloved ones who will return no more. 

In the spring of 1881, to vary the monotony of the work on the history, we decided to hold a series of conventions through the New EnglandStates. We began during the Anniversary week in Boston, and had severalcrowded, enthusiastic meetings in Tremont Temple. In addition to oursuffrage meetings, I spoke before the Free Religious, Moral Education, and Heredity associations. All our speakers stayed at the Parker House, and we had a very pleasant time visiting together in our leisure hours. We were received by Governor Long, at the State House. He made a shortspeech, in favor of woman suffrage, in reply to Mrs. Hooker. We alsocalled on the Mayor, at the City Hall, and went through Jordan & Marsh'sgreat mercantile establishment, where the clerks are chiefly younggirls, who are well fed and housed, and have pleasant rooms, with a goodlibrary, where they sit and read in the evening. We went through theSherborn Reformatory Prison for Women, managed entirely by women. Wefound it clean and comfortable, more like a pleasant home than a placeof punishment. 

Mrs. Robinson, Miss Anthony, and I were invited to dine with the BirdClub. No woman, other than I, had ever had that honor before. I dinedwith them in 1870, escorted by "Warrington" of the Springfield_Republican_ and Edwin Morton. There I met Frank Sanborn for the firsttime. Frank Bird held about the same place in political life inMassachusetts, that Thurlow Weed did in the State of New York for fortyyears. In the evening we had a crowded reception at the home of Mrs. Fenno Tudor, who occupied a fine old residence facing the Common, wherewe met a large gathering of Boston reformers. On Decoration Day, May 30, we went to Providence, where I was the guest of Dr. William F. Channing. We had a very successful convention there. Senator Anthony andex-Governor Sprague were in the audience and expressed great pleasure, afterward, in all they had heard. I preached in Rev. FrederickHinckley's church the previous Sunday afternoon. 

From Providence I hurried home, to meet my son Theodore and his bride, who had just landed from France. We decorated our house and grounds withChinese lanterns and national flags for their reception. As we had nottime to send to New York for bunting, our flags--French andAmerican--were all made of bright red and blue cambric. The effect wasfine when they arrived; but, unfortunately, there came up a heavythunderstorm in the night and so drenched our beautiful flags that theybecame colorless rags. My little maid announced to me early in themorning that "the French and Americans had had a great battle during thenight and that the piazza was covered with blood. " This was startlingnews to one just awakening from a sound sleep. "Why, Emma!" I said, "what do you mean?" "Why, " she replied, "the rain has washed all thecolor out of our flags, and the piazza is covered with red and bluestreams of water. " As the morning sun appeared in all its glory, chasingthe dark clouds away, our decorations did indeed look pale and limp, andwere promptly removed. 

I was happily surprised with my tall, stately daughter, MargueriteBerry. A fine-looking girl of twenty, straight, strong, and sound, modest and pleasing. She can walk miles, sketches from nature with greatskill and rapidity, and speaks three languages. I had always said to mysons: "When you marry, choose a woman with a spine and sound teeth;remember the teeth show the condition of the bones in the rest of thebody. " So, when Theodore introduced his wife to me, he said, "You see Ihave followed your advice; her spine is as straight as it should be, andevery tooth in her head as sound as ivory. " This reminds me of a youngman who used to put my stoves up for the winter. He told me one day thathe thought of getting married. "Well, " I said, "above all things get awife with a spine and sound teeth. " Stove pipe in hand he turned to mewith a look of surprise, and said: "Do they ever come without spines?"

In July, 1881, sitting under the trees, Miss Anthony and I read anddiscussed Wendell Phillips' magnificent speech before the Phi Beta KappaSociety at Harvard College. This society had often talked of invitinghim, but was afraid of his radical utterances. At last, hoping thatyears might have modified his opinions and somewhat softened his speech, an invitation was given. The élite of Boston, the presidents and collegeprofessors from far and near, were there. A great audience of the wise, the learned, the distinguished in State and Church assembled. Such aconservative audience, it was supposed, would surely hold this radicalin check. Alas! they were all doomed, for once, to hear the naked truth, on every vital question of the day. Thinking this might be his onlyopportunity to rouse some liberal thought in conservative minds, hestruck the keynote of every reform; defended labor strikes, theNihilists of Russia, prohibition, woman suffrage, and demandedreformation in our prisons, courts of justice, and halls of legislation. On the woman question, he said:

 "Social science affirms that woman's place in society marks the level of civilization. From its twilight in Greece, through the Italian worship of the Virgin, the dreams of chivalry, the justice of the civil law, and the equality of French society, we trace her gradual recognition, while our common law, as Lord Brougham confessed, was, with relation to women, the opprobrium of the age of Christianity. For forty years earnest men and women, working noiselessly, have washed away the opprobrium, the statute books of thirty States have been remodeled, and woman stands, to-day, almost face to face with her last claim--the ballot. It has been a weary and thankless, though successful struggle. But if there be any refuge from that ghastly curse, the vice of great cities, before which social science stands palsied and dumb, it is in this more equal recognition of women. 

 "If, in this critical battle for universal suffrage, our fathers' noblest legacy to us and the greatest trust God leaves in our hands, there be any weapon, which, once taken from the armory, will make victory certain, it will be as it has been in art, literature, and society, summoning woman into the political arena. The literary class, until within half a dozen years, has taken no note of this great uprising; only to fling every obstacle in its way. 

 "The first glimpse we get of Saxon blood in history is that line of Tacitus in his 'Germany, ' which reads, 'In all grave matters they consult their women. ' Years hence, when robust Saxon sense has flung away Jewish superstition and Eastern prejudice, and put under its foot fastidious scholarship and squeamish fashion, some second Tacitus from the valley of the Mississippi will answer to him of the Seven Hills: 'In all grave questions, we consult our women. '

 "If the Alps, piled in cold and silence, be the emblem of despotism, we joyfully take the ever restless ocean for ours, only pure because never still. To be as good as our fathers, we must be better. They silenced their fears and subdued their prejudices, inaugurating free speech and equality with no precedent on the file. Let us rise to their level, crush appetite, and prohibit temptation if it rots great cities; intrench labor in sufficient bulwarks against that wealth which, without the tenfold strength of modern incorporations, wrecked the Grecian and Roman states; and, with a sterner effort still, summon woman into civil life, as re-enforcement to our laboring ranks, in the effort to make our civilization a success. Sit not like the figure on our silver coin, looking ever backward. 

 "'New occasions teach new duties, Time makes ancient good uncouth, They must upward still and onward, Who would keep abreast of truth. Lo! before us gleam her watch fires-- We ourselves must pilgrims be, Launch our _Mayflower_, and steer boldly Through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the future's portal With the past's blood-rusted key. '"

That Harvard speech in the face of fashion, bigotry, andconservatism--so liberal, so eloquent, so brave--is a model for everyyoung man, who, like the orator, would devote his talents to the bestinterests of the race, rather than to his personal ambition for mereworldly success. 

Toward the end of October, Miss Anthony returned, after a rest of twomonths, and we commenced work again on the second volume of the History. November 2 being election day, the Republican carriage, decorated withflags and evergreens, came to the door for voters. As I owned the houseand paid the taxes, and as none of the white males was home, I suggestedthat I might go down and do the voting, whereupon the gentlemen whorepresented the Republican committee urged me, most cordially, to do so. Accompanied by my faithful friend, Miss Anthony, we stepped into thecarriage and went to the poll, held in the hotel where I usually went topay taxes. When we entered the room it was crowded with men. I wasintroduced to the inspectors by Charles Everett, one of our leadingcitizens, who said: "Mrs. Stanton is here, gentlemen, for the purpose ofvoting. As she is a taxpayer, of sound mind, and of legal age, I see noreason why she should not exercise this right of citizenship. "

The inspectors were thunderstruck. I think they were afraid that I wasabout to capture the ballot box. One placed his arms round it, with onehand close over the aperture where the ballots were slipped in, andsaid, with mingled surprise and pity, "Oh, no, madam! Men only areallowed to vote. " I then explained to him that, in accordance with theConstitution of New Jersey, women had voted in New Jersey down to 1801, when they were forbidden the further exercise of the right by anarbitrary act of the legislature, and, by a recent amendment to thenational Constitution, Congress had declared that "all persons born ornaturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdictionthereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein theyreside" and are entitled to vote. I told them that I wished to cast myvote, as a citizen of the United States, for the candidates for UnitedStates offices. Two of the inspectors sat down and pulled their hatsover their eyes, whether from shame or ignorance I do not know. Theother held on to the box, and said "I know nothing about theConstitutions, State or national. I never read either; but I do knowthat in New Jersey, women have not voted in my day, and I cannot acceptyour ballot. " So I laid my ballot in his hand, saying that I had thesame right to vote that any man present had, and on him must rest theresponsibility of denying me my rights of citizenship. 

All through the winter Miss Anthony and I worked diligently on theHistory. My daughter Harriot came from Europe in February, determinedthat I should return with her, as she had not finished her studies. Toexpedite my task on the History she seized the laboring oar, preparedthe last chapter and corrected the proof as opportunity offered. As thechildren were scattered to the four points of the compass and my husbandspent the winter in the city, we decided to lease our house and all takea holiday. We spent a month in New York city, busy on the History to thelast hour, with occasional intervals of receiving and visiting friends. As I dreaded the voyage, the days flew by too fast for my pleasure. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 

Having worked diligently through nearly two years on the second volumeof "The History of Woman Suffrage, " I looked forward with pleasure to arest, in the Old World, beyond the reach and sound of my beloved Susanand the woman suffrage movement. On May 27, 1892, I sailed with mydaughter Harriot on the _Château Léoville_ for Bordeaux. The manyfriends who came to see us off brought fruits and flowers, boxes ofcandied ginger to ward off seasickness, letters of introduction, andlight literature for the voyage. We had all the daily and weekly papers, secular and religious, the new monthly magazines, and several novels. Wethought we would do an immense amount of reading, but we did verylittle. Eating, sleeping, walking on deck, and watching theever-changing ocean are about all that most people care to do. The saildown the harbor that bright, warm evening was beautiful, and, welingered on deck in the moonlight until a late hour. 

I slept but little, that night, as two cats kept running in and out ofmy stateroom, and my berth was so narrow that I could only lie in oneposition--as straight as if already in my coffin. Under suchcircumstances I spent the night, thinking over everything that waspainful in my whole life, and imagining all the different calamitiesthat might befall my family in my absence. It was a night of severeintrospection and intense dissatisfaction. I was glad when the morningdawned and I could go on deck. During the day my couch was widened onefoot, and, at night, the cats relegated to other quarters. 

We had a smooth, pleasant, uneventful voyage, until the last night, when, on nearing the French coast, the weather became dark and stormy. The next morning our good steamer pushed slowly and carefully up thebroad, muddy Gironde and landed us on the bustling quays of Bordeaux, where my son Theodore stood waiting to receive us. As we turned to sayfarewell to our sturdy ship--gazing up at its black iron sidesbesprinkled with salty foam--a feeling of deep thankfulness tookpossession of us, for she had been faithful to her trust, and had borneus safely from the New World to the Old, over thousands of miles oftreacherous sea. 

We spent a day in driving about Bordeaux, enjoying the mere fact ofrestoration to _terra firma_ after twelve days' imprisonment on theocean. Maritime cities are much the same all the world over. The forestsof masts, the heavily laden drays, the lounging sailors, the rough'longshoremen, and the dirty quays, are no more characteristic ofBordeaux than New York, London, and Liverpool. But Bordeaux wasinteresting as the birthplace of Montesquieu and as the capital ofancient Guienne and Gascony. 

But I must not forget to mention an accident that happened on landing atBordeaux. We had innumerable pieces of baggage, a baby carriage, rockingchair, a box of "The History of Woman Suffrage" for foreign libraries, besides the usual number of trunks and satchels, and one hamper, inwhich were many things we were undecided whether to take or leave. Intothis, a loaded pistol had been carelessly thrown. The hamper beinghandled with an emphatic jerk by some jovial French sailor, the pistolexploded, shooting the bearer through the shoulder. He fell bleeding onthe quay. The dynamite scare being just at its height, the generalconsternation was indescribable. Every Frenchman, with vehementgestures, was chattering to his utmost capacity, but keeping at arespectful distance from the hamper. No one knew what had caused thetrouble; but Theodore was bound to make an investigation. He proceededto untie the ropes and examine the contents, and there he found thepistol, from which, pointing upward, he fired two other bullets. "Alas!"said Hattie, "I put that pistol there, never dreaming it was loaded. "The wounded man was taken to the hospital. His injuries were veryslight, but the incident cost us two thousand francs and no end ofannoyance. I was thankful that by some chance the pistol had not goneoff in the hold of the vessel and set the ship on fire, and possiblysacrificed three hundred lives through one girl's carelessness. Verilywe cannot be too careful in the use of firearms. 

Bordeaux is a queer old town, with its innumerable soldiers and priestsperambulating in all directions. The priests, in long black gowns andlarge black hats, have a solemn aspect; but the soldiers, walking lazilyalong, or guarding buildings that seem in no danger from any livingthing, are useless and ridiculous. The heavy carts and harness move theunaccustomed observer to constant pity for the horses. Besideseverything that is necessary for locomotion, they have an endless numberof ornaments, rising two or three feet above the horses' heads--horns, bells, feathers, and tassels. One of their carts would weigh as much asthree of ours, and all their carriages are equally heavy. 

It was a bright, cool day on which we took the train for Toulouse, andwe enjoyed the delightful run through the very heart of old Gascony andLanguedoc. It was evident that we were in the South, where the sun isstrong, for, although summer had scarcely begun, the country alreadywore a brown hue. But the narrow strips of growing grain, the acres ofgrape vines, looking like young currant bushes, and the fig treesscattered here and there, looked odd to the eye of a native of New York. 

We passed many historical spots during that afternoon journey up thevalley of the Garonne. At Portets are the ruins of the Château ofLangoiran, built before America was discovered, and, a few miles fartheron, we came to the region of the famous wines of Sauterne andChâteau-Yquem. Saint Macaire is a very ancient Gallo-Roman town, wherethey show one churches, walls, and houses built fifteen centuries ago. One of the largest towns has a history typical of this part of France, where wars of religion and conquest were once the order of the day. Itwas taken and retaken by the Goths, Huns, Burgundians, and Saracens, nobody knows how many times, and belonged, successively, to the kings ofFrance, to the dukes of Aquitaine, to the kings of England, and to thecounts of Toulouse. I sometimes wonder whether the inhabitants of ourAmerican towns, whose growth and development have been free anduntrammeled as that of a favorite child, appreciate the blessings thathave been theirs. How true the lines of Goethe: "America, thou art muchhappier than our old continent; thou hast no castles in ruins, nofortresses; no useless remembrances, no vain enemies will interrupt theinward workings of thy life!"

We passed through Moissac, with its celebrated organ, a gift of Mazarin;through Castle Sarrazin, founded by the Saracens in the eighth century;through Montauban, that stronghold of the early Protestants, whichsuffered martyrdom for its religious faith; through Grisolles, built ona Roman highway, and, at last, in the dusk of the evening, we reached"the Capital of the South, " that city of learning--curious, interestingold Toulouse. 

Laura Curtis Bullard, in her sketch of me in "Our Famous Women, " says:"In 1882, Mrs. Stanton went to France, on a visit to her son Theodore, and spent three months at the convent of La Sagesse, in the city ofToulouse. " This is quite true; but I have sometimes tried to guess whather readers thought I was doing for three months in a convent. Weary ofthe trials and tribulations of this world, had I gone there to preparein solitude for the next? Had I taken the veil in my old age? Or, likehigh-church Anglicans and Roman Catholics, had I made this my retreat?Not at all. My daughter wished to study French advantageously, my sonlived in the mountains hard by, and the garden of La Sagesse, with itsbig trees, clean gravel paths, and cool shade, was the most delightfulspot. 

In this religious retreat I met, from time to time, some of the mostradical and liberal-minded residents of the South. Toulouse is one ofthe most important university centers of France, and bears with creditthe proud title of "the learned city. " With two distinguished membersof the faculty, the late Dr. Nicholas Joly and Professor Moliner of thelaw school, I often had most interesting discussions on all the greatquestions of the hour. That three heretics--I should say, six, for mydaughter, son, and his wife often joined the circle--could thus sit inperfect security, and debate, in the most unorthodox fashion, in theseholy precincts, all the reforms, social, political, and religious, whichthe United States and France need in order to be in harmony with thespirit of the age, was a striking proof of the progress the world hasmade in freedom of speech. The time was when such acts would have costus our lives, even if we had been caught expressing our heresies in theseclusion of our own homes. But here, under the oaks of a Catholicconvent, with the gray-robed sisters all around us, we could point outthe fallacies of Romanism itself, without fear or trembling. GloriousNineteenth Century, what conquests are thine!

I shall say nothing of the picturesque streets of antique Toulouse;nothing of the priests, who swarm like children in an English town;nothing of the beautifully carved stone façades of the ancient mansions, once inhabited by the nobility of Languedoc, but now given up to tradeand commerce; nothing of the lofty brick cathedrals, whose exteriorsremind one of London and whose interiors transfer you to "the gorgeousEast"; nothing of the Capitol, with its gallery rich in busts of thecelebrated sons of the South; nothing of the museum, the public garden, and the broad river winding through all. I must leave all theseinteresting features of Toulouse and hasten up into the BlackMountains, a few miles away, where I saw the country life of modernLanguedoc. 

At Jacournassy, the country seat of Mme. Berry, whose daughter my sonTheodore married, I spent a month full of surprises. How everythingdiffered from America, and even from the plain below! The peasants, manyof them at least, can neither speak French nor understand it. Theirlanguage is a patois, resembling both Spanish and Italian, and theycling to it with astonishing pertinacity. Their agricultural implementsare not less quaint than their speech. The plow is a long beam with amost primitive share in the middle, a cow at one end, and a boy at theother. The grain is cut with a sickle and threshed with a flail on thebarn floor, as in Scripture times. Manure is scattered over the fieldswith the hands. There was a certain pleasure in studying these old-timeways. I caught glimpses of the anti-revolutionary epoch, when the kingruled the state and the nobles held the lands. Here again I saw, asnever before, what vast strides the world has made within one century. 

But, indoors, one returns to modern times. The table, beds, rooms of thechâteau were much the same as those of Toulouse and New York city. Thecooking is not like ours, however, unless Delmonico's skill be supposedto have extended to all the homes in Manhattan Island, which is, unfortunately, not the case. What an admirable product of French geniusis the art of cooking! Of incalculable value have been the culinaryteachings of Vatel and his followers. 

One of the sources of amusement, during my sojourn at Jacournassy, wasof a literary nature. My son Theodore was then busy collecting thematerials for his book entitled "The Woman Question in Europe, " andevery post brought in manuscripts and letters from all parts of thecontinent, written in almost every tongue known to Babel. So just what Icame abroad to avoid, I found on the very threshold where I came torest. We had good linguists at the château, and every document finallycame forth in English dress, which, however, often needed much alteringand polishing. This was my part of the work. So, away off in the heartof France, high up in the Black Mountains, surrounded withFrench-speaking relatives and patois-speaking peasants, I found myselfonce more putting bad English into the best I could command, just as Ihad so often done in America, when editor of _The Revolution_, or whenarranging manuscript for "The History of Woman Suffrage. " But it waslabor in the cause of my sex; it was aiding in the creation of "TheWoman Question in Europe, " and so my pen did not grow slack nor my handweary. 

The scenery in the Black Mountains is very grand, and reminds one of thelofty ranges of mountains around the Yosemite Valley in California. Inthe distance are the snow-capped Pyrenees, producing a solemn beauty, aprofound solitude. We used to go every evening where we could see thesun set and watch the changing shadows in the broad valley below. Another great pleasure here was watching the gradual development of myfirst grandchild, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, born at Paris, on the 3d ofMay, 1882. She was a fine child; though only three months old her headwas covered with dark hair, and her large blue eyes looked out withintense earnestness from beneath her well-shaped brow. 

One night I had a terrible fright. I was the only person sleeping onthe ground floor of the château, and my room was at the extreme end ofthe building, with the staircase on the other side. I had frequentlybeen cautioned not to leave my windows open, as someone might get in. But, as I always slept with an open window, winter and summer, I thoughtI would take the risk rather than endure a feeling of suffocation nightafter night. The blinds were solid, and to close them was to exclude allthe air, so I left them open about a foot, braced by an iron hook. Afavorite resort for a pet donkey was under my window, where he haduniformly slept in profound silence. But one glorious moonlight night, probably to arouse me to enjoy with him the exquisite beauty of oursurroundings, he put his nose through this aperture and gave one of themost prolonged, resounding brays I ever heard. Startled from a deepsleep, I was so frightened that at first I could not move. My nextimpulse was to rush out and arouse the family, but, seeing a dark headin the window, I thought I would slam down the heavy sash and check theintruder before starting. But just as I approached the window, anotheragonizing bray announced the innocent character of my midnight visitor. Stretching out of the window to frighten him away, a gentleman in theroom above me, for the same purpose, dashed down a pail of water, whichthe donkey and I shared equally. He ran off at a double-quick pace, while I made a hasty retreat. 

On August 20, I returned to Toulouse and our quiet convent. The sistersgave me a most affectionate welcome and I had many pleasant chats, sitting in the gardens, with the priests and professors. Several timesmy daughter and I attended High Mass in the cathedral, built in theeleventh century. Being entirely new to us it was a most entertainingspectacular performance. With our American ideas of religious devotion, it seemed to us that the people, as well as the building, belonged tothe Dark Ages. About fifty priests, in mantles, gowns, and capes, someblack, some yellow, --with tinseled fringes and ornamentation, --with allmanner of gestures, genuflections, salutations, kneelings, and burningof incense; with prayers, admonitions, and sacraments, filled the altarwith constant motion. 

A tall man, dressed in red, wheeled in a large basket filled with bread, which the priests, with cups of wine, passed up and down among thosekneeling at the altar. At least half a dozen times the places at thealtar were filled--chiefly with women. We counted the men, --onlyseven, --and those were old and tremulous, with one foot in the grave. The whole performance was hollow and mechanical. People walked in, crossed themselves at the door with holy water, and, while kneeling andsaying their prayers, looked about examining the dress of each newcomer, their lips moving throughout, satisfied in reeling off the allottednumber of prayers in a given time. The one redeeming feature in thewhole performance was the grand music. The deep-toned organ, whosesounds reverberated through the lofty arches, was very impressive. 

The convent consisted of three large buildings, each three stories high, and a residence for the priests; also a chapel, where women, at theirdevotions, might be seen at various hours from four o'clock in themorning until evening. Inclosed within a high stone wall were beautifulgardens with fountains and shrines, where images of departed saints, inalcoves lighted with tapers were worshiped on certain days of the year. 

Such were our environments, and our minds naturally often dwelt on thenature and power of the religion that had built up and maintained forcenturies these peaceful resorts, where cultivated, scholarly men, andwomen of fine sensibilities, could find rest from the struggles of theoutside world. The sisters, who managed this large establishment, seemedhappy in the midst of their severe and multifarious duties. Of theundercurrent of their lives I could not judge, but on the surface allseemed smooth and satisfactory. They evidently took great pleasure inthe society of each other. Every evening, from six to eight, they allsat in the gardens in a circle together, sewing, knitting, and chatting, with occasional merry bursts of laughter. Their existence is not, bymany degrees, as monotonous as that of most women in isolatedhouseholds--especially of the farmer's wife in her solitary home, milesaway from a village and a post office. They taught a school of fiftyorphan girls, who lived in the convent, and for whom they frequently hadentertainments. They also had a few boarders of the old aristocracy ofFrance, who hate the Republic and still cling to their belief in Popesand Kings. For the purpose of perfecting herself in the language, mydaughter embraced every opportunity to talk with all she met, and thuslearned the secrets of their inner life. As Sister Rose spoke English, Igleaned from her what knowledge I could as to their views of time andeternity. I found their faith had not made much progress through theterrible upheavals of the French Revolution. Although the Jesuits havebeen driven out of France, and the pictures of Saints, the Virgin Mary, and Christ, have been banished from the walls of their schools andcolleges, the sincere Catholics are more devoted to their religionbecause of these very persecutions. 

Theodore, his wife, and baby, and Mr. Blatch, a young Englishman, cameto visit us. The sisters and school children manifested great delight inthe baby, and the former equal pleasure in Mr. Blatch's marked attentionto my daughter, as babies and courtships were unusual tableaux in aconvent. As my daughter was studying for a university degree inmathematics, I went with her to the Lycée, a dreary apartment in agloomy old building with bare walls, bare floors, dilapidated desks andbenches, and an old rusty stove. Yet mid such surroundings, theprofessor always appeared in full dress, making a stately bow to hisclass. I had heard so much of the universities of France that I hadpictured to myself grand buildings, like those of our universities; but, instead, I found that the lectures were given in isolated rooms, here, there, and anywhere--uniformly dreary inside and outside. 

The first day we called on Professor Depesyrons. After making all ourarrangements for books and lectures, he suddenly turned to my daughter, and, pointing to the flounces on her dress, her jaunty hat, and someflowers in a buttonhole, he smiled, and said: "All this, and yet youlove mathematics?" As we entered the court, on our way to the Lycée andinquired for the professor's lecture room, the students in little groupswatched us closely. The one who escorted us asked several questions, anddiscovered, by our accent, that we were foreigners, a sufficient excusefor the novelty of our proceeding. The professor received us mostgraciously, and ordered the janitor to bring us chairs, table, paper, and pencils. 

Then we chatted pleasantly until the hour arrived for his lecture. As Ihad but little interest in the subject, and as the problems werepronounced in a foreign tongue, I took my afternoon nap. There was nodanger of affronting the professor by such indifference to hiseloquence, as he faced the blackboard, filling it with signs and figuresas rapidly as possible; then expunging them to refill again and again, without a break in his explanations; talking as fast as his hand moved. Harriot struggled several days to follow him, but found it impossible, so we gave up the chase after cubes and squares, and she devoted herselfwholly to the study of the language. These were days, for me, of perfectrest and peace. Everything moved as if by magic, no hurry and bustle, never a cross or impatient word spoken. As only one or two of thesisters spoke English, I could read under the trees uninterruptedly forhours. Emerson, Ruskin, and Carlyle were my chosen companions. 

We made several pleasant acquaintances among some Irish families whowere trying to live on their reduced incomes in Toulouse. One of thesegave us a farewell ball. As several companies of the French army werestationed there, we met a large number of officers at the ball. I hadalways supposed the French were graceful dancers. I was a quiet "lookeron in Vienna, " so I had an opportunity of comparing the skill of thedifferent nationalities. All admitted that none glided about so easilyand gracefully as the Americans. They seemed to move without the leasteffort, while the English, the French, and the Germans labored in theirdancing, bobbing up and down, jumping and jerking, out of breath and redin the face in five minutes. One great pleasure we had in Toulouse wasthe music of the military band in the public gardens, where, for half acent, we could have a chair and enjoy pure air and sweet music for twohours. 

We gave a farewell dinner at the Tivollier Hotel to some of our friends. With speeches and toasts we had a merry time. Professor Joly was thelife of the occasion. He had been a teacher in France for forty yearsand had just retired on a pension. I presented to him "The History ofWoman Suffrage, " and he wrote a most complimentary review of it in oneof the leading French journals. Every holiday must have its end. Otherduties called me to England. So, after a hasty good-by to Jacournassyand La Sagesse, to the Black Mountains and Toulouse, to Languedoc andthe South, we took train one day in October, just as the first leavesbegan to fall, and, in fourteen hours, were at Paris. I had not seen thebeautiful French capital since 1840. My sojourn within its enchantingwalls was short, --too short, --and I woke one morning to find myself, after an absence of forty-two years, again on the shores of England, andbefore my eyes were fairly open, grim old London welcomed me back. Butthe many happy hours spent in "merry England" during the winter of1882-83 have not effaced from my memory the four months in Languedoc. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

REFORMS AND REFORMERS IN GREAT BRITAIN. 

Reaching London in the fogs and mists of November, 1882, the firstperson I met, after a separation of many years, was our revered andbeloved friend William Henry Channing. The tall, graceful form wassomewhat bent; the sweet, thoughtful face somewhat sadder; the crimesand miseries of the world seemed heavy on his heart. With his refined, nervous organization, the gloomy moral and physical atmosphere of Londonwas the last place on earth where that beautiful life should have ended. I found him in earnest conversation with my daughter and the youngEnglishman she was soon to marry, advising them not only as to theimportance of the step they were about to take, but as to the minorpoints to be observed in the ceremony. At the appointed time a fewfriends gathered in Portland Street Chapel, and as we approached thealtar our friend appeared in surplice and gown, his pale, spiritual facemore tender and beautiful than ever. This was the last marriage servicehe ever performed, and it was as pathetic as original. His wholeappearance was so in harmony with the exquisite sentiments he uttered, that we who listened felt as if, for the time being, we had entered withhim into the Holy of Holies. 

Some time after, Miss Anthony and I called on him to return our thanksfor the very complimentary review he had written of "The History ofWoman Suffrage. " He thanked us in turn for the many pleasant memorieswe had revived in those pages, "but, " said he, "they have filled me withindignation, too, at the repeated insults offered to women so earnestlyengaged in honest endeavors for the uplifting of mankind. I blushed formy sex more than once in reading these volumes. " We lingered long, talking over the events connected with our great struggle for freedom. He dwelt with tenderness on our disappointments, and entered more fullyinto the humiliations suffered by women, than any man we ever met. Hisviews were as appreciative of the humiliation of woman, through thedegradation of sex, as those expressed by John Stuart Mill in hiswonderful work on "The Subjection of Women. " He was intensely interestedin Frances Power Cobbe's efforts to suppress vivisection, and the lasttime I saw him he was presiding at a parlor meeting where Dr. ElizabethBlackwell gave an admirable address on the cause and cure of the socialevil. Mr. Channing spoke beautifully in closing, paying a warm andmerited compliment to Dr. Blackwell's clear and concise review of allthe difficulties involved in the question. 

Reading so much of English reformers in our journals, of the Brights, McLarens, the Taylors; of Lydia Becker, Josephine Butler, and OctaviaHill, and of their great demonstrations with lords and members ofParliament in the chair, --we had longed to compare the actors in thosescenes with our speakers on this side of the water. At last we met themone and all in great public meetings and parlor reunions, at dinners andreceptions. We listened to their public men in Parliament, the courts, and the pulpit; to the women in their various assemblies; and came tothe conclusion that Americans surpass them in oratory and the conduct oftheir meetings. A hesitating, apologetic manner seems to be the nationalcustom for an exordium on all questions. Even their ablest men who havevisited this country, such as Kingsley, Stanley, Arnold, Tyndall, andColeridge, have all been criticised by the American public for theirelocutionary defects. They have no speakers to compare with WendellPhillips, George William Curtis, or Anna Dickinson, although John Brightis without peer among his countrymen, as is Mrs. Besant among the women. The women, as a general rule, are more fluent than the men. 

I reached England in time to attend the great demonstration in Glasgow, to celebrate the extension of the municipal franchise to the women ofScotland. It was a remarkable occasion. St. Andrew's immense hall waspacked with women; a few men were admitted to the gallery at half acrown apiece. Over five thousand people were present. When a Scotchaudience is thoroughly roused, nothing can equal the enthusiasm. Thearrival of the speakers on the platform was announced with the wildestapplause; the entire audience rising, waving their handkerchiefs, andclapping their hands, and every compliment paid the people of Scotlandwas received with similar outbursts. Mrs. McLaren, a sister of JohnBright, presided, and made the opening speech. I had the honor, on thisoccasion, of addressing an audience for the first time in the Old World. Many others spoke briefly. There were too many speakers; no one had timeto warm up to the point of eloquence. 

Our system of conventions, of two or three days' duration, with longspeeches discussing pointed and radical resolutions, is quite unknown inEngland. Their meetings consist of one session of a few hours, intowhich they crowd all the speakers they can summon. They have a few tame, printed resolutions, on which there can be no possible difference ofopinion, with the names of those who are to speak appended. Each ofthese is read and a few short speeches are made, that may or may nothave the slightest reference to the resolutions, which are then passed. The last is usually one of thanks to some lord or member of the House ofCommons, who may have condescended to preside at the meeting or dosomething for the measure in Parliament. The Queen is referred totenderly in most of the speeches, although she has never done anythingto merit the approbation of the advocates of suffrage for women. 

From Glasgow quite a large party of the Brights and McLarens went toEdinburgh, where the Hon. Duncan McLaren gave us a warm welcome toNewington House, under the very shadow of the Salisbury crags. These andthe Pentland Hills are remarkable features in the landscape as youapproach this beautiful city with its mountains and castles. We passed afew charming days driving about, visiting old friends, and discussingthe status of woman on both sides of the Atlantic. Here we met ElizabethPease Nichol and Jane and Eliza Wigham, whom I had not seen since we sattogether in the World's Anti-slavery Convention, in London, in 1840. YetI knew Mrs. Nichol at once; her strongly marked face was not readilyforgotten. 

I went with the family on Sunday to the Friends' meeting, where a mostunusual manifestation for that decorous sect occurred. I had been toldthat, if I felt inclined, it would be considered quite proper for me tomake some remarks, and just as I was revolving an opening sentence to afew thoughts I desired to present, a man arose in a remote part of thehouse and began, in a low voice, to give his testimony as to the truththat was in him. All eyes were turned toward him, when suddenly a Friendleaned over the back of the seat, seized his coat tails and jerked himdown in a most emphatic manner. The poor man buried his face in hishands, and maintained a profound silence. I learned afterward that hewas a bore, and the Friend in the rear thought it wise to nip him in thebud. This scene put to flight all intentions of speaking on my part lestI, too, might get outside the prescribed limits and be suppressed byforce. I dined, that day, with Mrs. Nichol, at Huntly Lodge, where shehas entertained in turn many of our American reformers. Her walls haveechoed to the voices of Garrison, Rogers, Samuel J. May, ParkerPillsbury, Henry C. Wright, Douglass, Remond, and hosts of Englishphilanthropists. Though over eighty years of age, she was still awake toall questions of the hour, and generous in her hospitalities as of yore. 

Mrs. Margaret Lucas, whose whole soul was in the temperance movement, escorted me from Edinburgh to Manchester, to be present at another greatdemonstration in the Town Hall, the finest building in that district. Ithad just been completed, and, with its ante-room, dining hall, andvarious apartments for social entertainments, was by far the mostperfect hall I had seen in England. There I was entertained by Mrs. Matilda Roby, who, with her husband, gave me a most hospitablereception. She invited several friends to luncheon one day, amongothers Miss Lydia Becker, editor of the _Suffrage Journal_ in that city, and the Rev. Mr. Steinthal, who had visited this country and spoken onour platform. The chief topic at the table was John Stuart Mill, hislife, character, writings, and his position with reference to thepolitical rights of women. In the evening we went to see Ristori in'"Queen Elizabeth. " Having seen her, many years before, in America, Iwas surprised to find her still so vigorous. And thus, week after week, suffrage meetings, receptions, dinners, luncheons, and theaterspleasantly alternated. 

The following Sunday we heard in London a grand sermon from Moncure D. Conway, and had a pleasant interview with him and Mrs. Conway at theclose of the session. Later we spent a few days at their artistic home, filled with books, pictures, and mementos from loving friends. Abilliard room, with well-worn cues, balls, and table--quite a noveladjunct to a parsonage--may, in a measure, account for his vigoroussermons. A garden reception to Mr. And Mrs. Howells gave us anopportunity to see the American novelist surrounded by his Englishfriends. 

Soon after this Mr. Conway asked me to fill his pulpit. I retiredSaturday night, very nervous over my sermon for the next day, and thefeeling steadily increased until I reached the platform; but once theremy fears were all dissipated, and I never enjoyed speaking more than onthat occasion, for I had been so long oppressed with the degradation ofwoman under canon law and church discipline, that I had a sense ofrelief in pouring out my indignation. My theme was, "What hasChristianity done for Woman?" and by the facts of history I showedclearly that to no form of religion was woman indebted for one impulseof freedom, as all alike have taught her inferiority and subjection. Nolofty virtues can emanate from such a condition. Whatever heights ofdignity and purity women have individually attained can in no way beattributed to the dogmas of their religion. 

With my son Theodore, always deeply interested in my friends and publicwork, I called, during my stay in London, on Mrs. Grey, Miss JessieBoucherett, and Dr. Hoggan, who had written essays for "The WomanQuestion in Europe"; on our American minister (Mr. Lowell), Mr. And Mrs. George W. Smalley, and many other notable men and women. By appointmentwe had an hour with the Hon. John Bright, at his residence onPiccadilly. As his photograph, with his fame, had reached America, hisfine face and head, as well as his political opinions, were quitefamiliar to us. He received us with great cordiality, and manifested aclear knowledge and deep interest in regard to all American affairs. Free trade and woman suffrage formed the basis of our conversation; theliterature of our respective countries and our great men and women werethe lighter topics of the occasion. He was not sound in regard to thepolitical rights of women, but it is not given to any one man to beequally clear on all questions. He voted for John Stuart Mill'samendment to the Household Suffrage Bill in 1867, but he said, "that wasa personal favor to a friend, without any strong convictions as to themerits of what I considered a purely sentimental measure. "

We attended the meeting called to rejoice over the passage of theMarried Women's Property Bill, which gave to the women of England, in1882, what we had enjoyed in many States in this country since 1848. Mrs. Jacob Bright, Mrs. Scatcherd, Mrs. Elmy, and several members ofParliament made short speeches of congratulation to those who had beeninstrumental in carrying the measure. It was generally conceded that tothe tact and persistence of Mrs. Jacob Bright, more than to any otherperson, belonged the credit of that achievement. Jacob Bright was at thetime a member of Parliament, and fully in sympathy with the bill; and, while Mrs. Bright exerted all her social influence to make it popularwith the members, her husband, thoroughly versed in Parliamentarytactics, availed himself of every technicality to push the bill throughthe House of Commons. Mrs. Bright's chief object in securing this bill, aside from establishing the right that every human being has to his ownproperty, was to place married women on an even plane with widows andspinsters, thereby making them qualified voters. 

The next day we went out to Barn Elms to visit Mr. And Mrs. CharlesMcLaren. He was a member of Parliament, a Quaker by birth and education, and had sustained, to his uttermost ability, the suffrage movement. Hischarming wife, the daughter of Mrs. Pochin, is worthy of the noblemother who was among the earliest leaders on that question--speaking andwriting with ability, on all phases of the subject. Barn Elms is a grandold estate, a few miles out of London. It was the dairy farm of QueenElizabeth, and was presented by her to Sir Francis Walsingham. Sincethen it has been inhabited by many persons of note. It has existed as anestate since the time of the early Saxon kings, and the record of thesale of Barn Elms in the time of King Athelstane is still extant. Whatwith its well-kept lawns, fine old trees, glimpses here and there of theThames winding round its borders, and its wealth of old associations, itis, indeed, a charming spot. Our memory of those days will not go backto Saxon kings, but remain with the liberal host and hostess, thebeautiful children, and the many charming acquaintances we met at thatfireside. I doubt whether any of the ancient lords and ladies whodispensed their hospitalities under that roof did in any way surpass thepresent occupants. Mrs. McLaren, interested in all the reforms of theday, is radical in her ideas, a brilliant talker, and, for one so young, remarkably well informed on all political questions. 

It was at Barn Elms I met, for the first time, Mrs. Fannie Hertz, towhom I was indebted for many pleasant acquaintances afterward. She issaid to know more distinguished literary people than any other woman inLondon. I saw her, too, several times in her home; meeting, at herSunday-afternoon receptions, many persons I was desirous to know. On oneoccasion I found George Jacob Holyoake there, surrounded by severalyoung ladies, all stoutly defending the Nihilists in Russia, and theirright to plot their way to freedom. They counted a dynasty of Czars asnothing in the balance with the liberties of a whole people. As I joinedthe circle, Mr. Holyoake called my attention to the fact that he was theonly one in favor of peaceful measures. "Now, " said he, "I have oftenheard it said on your platform that the feminine element in politicswould bring about perpetual peace in government, and here all theseladies are advocating: the worst forms of violence in the name ofliberty. " "Ah!" said I, "lay on their shoulders the responsibility ofgoverning, and they would soon become as mild and conservative as youseem to be. " He then gave us his views on co-operation, the only remedyfor many existing evils, which he thought would be the next step towarda higher civilization. 

There, too, I met some Positivists, who, though liberal on religiousquestions, were very narrow as to the sphere of woman. The difference insex, which is the very reason why men and women should be associated inall forms of activity, is to them the strongest reason why they shouldbe separated. Mrs. Hertz belongs to the Harrison school of Positivists. I went with her to one of Mrs. Orr's receptions, where we met RobertBrowning, a fine-looking man of seventy years, with white hair andmustache. He was frank, easy, playful, and brilliant in conversation. Mrs. Orr seemed to be taking a very pessimistic view of our presentsphere of action, which Mr. Browning, with poetic coloring, was tryingto paint more hopefully. 

The next day I dined with Margaret Bright Lucas, in company with John P. Thomasson, member of Parliament, and his wife, and, afterward, we wentto the House of Commons and had the good fortune to hear Gladstone, Parnell, and Sir Charles Dilke. Seeing Bradlaugh seated outside of thecharmed circle, I sent my card to him, and, in the corridor, we had afew moments' conversation. I asked him if he thought he would eventuallyget his seat. He replied, "Most assuredly I will. I shall open the nextcampaign with such an agitation as will rouse our politicians to someconsideration of the changes gradually coming over the face of thingsin this country. "

The place assigned ladies in the House of Commons is really a disgraceto a country ruled by a queen. This dark perch is the highest gallery, immediately over the speaker's desk and government seats, behind a finewire netting, so that it is quite impossible to see or hear anything. The sixteen persons who can crowd into the front row, by standing withtheir noses partly through the open network, can have the satisfactionof seeing the cranial arch of their rulers and hearing an occasionalpaean to liberty, or an Irish growl at the lack of it. I was told thatthis network was to prevent the members on the floor from beingdisturbed by the beauty of the women. On hearing this I remarked that Iwas devoutly thankful that our American men were not so easilydisturbed, and that the beauty of our women was not of so dangerous atype. I could but contrast our spacious galleries in that magnificentCapitol at Washington, as well as in our grand State Capitols, wherehundreds of women can sit at their ease and see and hear their rulers, with these dark, dingy buildings. My son, who had a seat on the floorjust opposite the ladies' gallery, said he could compare our appearanceto nothing but birds in a cage. He could not distinguish an outline ofanybody. All he could see was the moving of feathers and furs or somebright ribbon or flower. 

In the libraries, the courts, and the House of Lords, I found manysuggestive subjects of thought. It was interesting to find, on thefrescoed walls, many historical scenes in which women had taken aprominent part. Among others there was Jane Lane assisting Charles II. To escape, and Alice Lisle concealing the fugitives after the battle ofSedgemoor. Six wives of Henry VIII. Stood forth, a solemn pageant whenone recalled their sad fate. Alas! whether for good or ill, women mustever fill a large space in the tragedies of the world. 

I passed a few pleasant hours in the house where Macaulay spent his lastyears. The once spacious library and the large bow-window, looking outon a beautiful lawn, where he sat, from day to day, writing his glowingperiods, possessed a peculiar charm for me, as the surroundings ofgenius always do. I thought, as I stood there, how often he hadunconsciously gazed on each object in searching for words rich enough togild his ideas. The house was owned and occupied by Mr. And Mrs. StephenWinckworth. It was at one of their sociable Sunday teas that manypleasant memories of the great historian were revived. 

One of the most remarkable and genial women I met was Miss Frances PowerCobbe. She called one afternoon, and sipped with me the five o'clocktea, a uniform practice in England. She was of medium height, stout, rosy, and vigorous-looking, with a large, well-shaped head, a strong, happy face, and gifted with rare powers of conversation. I felt verystrongly attracted to her. She was frank and cordial, and pronounced inall her views. She gave us an account of her efforts to rescue unhappycats and dogs from the hands of the vivisectionists. We saw her, too, inher home, and in her office in Victoria Street. The perfect order inwhich her books and papers were arranged, and the exquisite neatness ofthe apartments, were refreshing to behold. 

My daughter, having decided opinions of her own, was soon atloggerheads with Miss Cobbe on the question of vivisection. After we hadexamined several German and French books, with illustrations showing thehorrible cruelty inflicted on cats and dogs, she enlarged on thehypocrisy and wickedness of these scientists, and, turning to mydaughter, said: "Would you shake hands with one of thesevivisectionists? Yes, " said Harriot, "I should be proud to shake handswith Virchow, the great German scientist, for his kindness to a youngAmerican girl. She applied to several professors to be admitted to theirclasses, but all refused except Virchow; he readily assented, andrequested his students to treat her with becoming courtesy. 'If any ofyou behave otherwise, ' said he, 'I shall feel myself personallyinsulted. ' She entered his classes and pursued her studies, unmolestedand with great success. Now, would you, Miss Cobbe, refuse to shakehands with any of your statesmen, scientists, clergymen, lawyers, orphysicians who treat women with constant indignities and insult?" "Oh, no!" said Miss Cobbe. "Then, " said Harriot, "you estimate the physicalsuffering of cats and dogs as of more consequence than the humiliationof human beings. The man who tortures a cat for a scientific purpose isnot as low in the scale of beings, in my judgment, as one who sacrificeshis own daughter to some cruel custom. "

As we were, just then, reading Froude's "Life of Carlyle, " we drove bythe house where Carlyle had lived, and paused a moment at the door wherepoor Jennie went in and out so often with a heavy heart. The book givesa painful record of a great soul struggling with poverty anddisappointment; the hope of success, as an author, so long deferred andnever realized. His foolish pride of independence and headship, and hisutter indifference to his domestic duties and the comfort of his wifemade the picture still darker. Poor Jennie! fitted to shine in anycircle, yet doomed, all her married life, to domestic drudgery, insteadof associations with the great man for whose literary companionship shehad sacrificed everything. 

At one of Miss Biggs' receptions Miss Anthony and I met Mr. Stansfeld, M. P. , who had labored faithfully for the repeal of the ContagiousDiseases Act, and had in a measure been successful. We had the honor ofan interview with Lord Shaftesbury, at one of his crowded "at homes, "and found him a little uncertain as to the wisdom of allowing marriedwomen to vote, for fear of disturbing the peace of the family. I haveoften wondered if men see, in this objection, what a fatal admissionthey make as to their love of domination. 

Miss Anthony was present at the great Liberal Conference, at Leeds, onOctober 17, 1882, to which Mrs. Helen Bright Clark, Miss Jane Cobden, Mrs. Tanner, Mrs. Scatcherd, and several other ladies were duly electeddelegates from their respective Liberal Leagues. Mrs. Clark and MissCobden, daughters of the great corn-law reformers, spoke eloquently infavor of the resolution to extend Parliamentary suffrage to women, whichwas presented by Walter McLaren of Bradford. As Mrs. Clark made herimpassioned appeal for the recognition of woman's political equality inthe next bill for extension of suffrage, that immense gathering ofsixteen hundred delegates was hushed into profound silence. For adaughter to speak thus in that great representative convention, inopposition to her loved and honored father, the acknowledged leader ofthat party, was an act of heroism and fidelity to her own highestconvictions almost without a parallel in English history, and the effecton the audience was as thrilling as it was surprising. The resolutionwas passed by a large majority. At the reception given to John Brightthat evening, as Mrs. Clark approached the dais on which her noblefather stood shaking the hands of passing friends, she remarked to herhusband, "I wonder if father has heard of my speech this morning, and ifhe will forgive me for thus publicly differing with him?" The query wassoon answered. As he caught the first glimpse of his daughter he steppeddown, and, pressing her hand affectionately, kissed her on either cheek. 

The next evening the great Quaker statesman was heard by the admiringthousands who could crowd into Victoria Hall, while thousands, equallydesirous to hear, failed to get tickets of admission. It was amagnificent sight, and altogether a most impressive gathering of thepeople. Miss Anthony, with her friends, sat in the gallery opposite thegreat platform, where they had a fine view of the whole audience. WhenJohn Bright, escorted by Sir Wilfrid Lawson, took his seat, the immensecrowd rose, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and, with the wildestenthusiasm, gave cheer after cheer in honor of the great leader. SirWilfrid Lawson, in his introductory remarks, facetiously alluded to theresolution adopted by the Conference as somewhat in advance of the ideasof the speaker of the evening. The house broke into roars of laughter, while the Father of Liberalism, perfectly convulsed, joined in thegeneral merriment. 

But when at length his time to speak had come, and Mr. Bright went overthe many steps of progress that had been taken by the Liberal party, hecunningly dodged the question of the emancipation of the women ofEngland. He skipped round the agitation of 1867, and John Stuart Mill'samendment presented at that time in the House of Commons; the extensionof the municipal suffrage in 1869; the participation of women in theestablishment of national schools under the law of 1870, both as votersand members of school boards; the Married Women's Property Bill of 1882;the large and increasing vote for the extension of Parliamentarysuffrage in the House of Commons, and the adoption of the resolution bythat great Conference the day before. All these successive steps towardwoman's emancipation he carefully remembered to forget. 

While in London Miss Anthony and I attended several enthusiastic reformmeetings. We heard Bradlaugh address his constituency on that memorableday at Trafalgar Square, at the opening of Parliament, when violence wasanticipated and the Parliament Houses were surrounded by immense crowds, with the military and police in large numbers, to maintain order. Weheard Michael Davitt and Miss Helen Taylor at a great meeting in ExeterHall; the former on home rule for Ireland, and the latter on thenationalization of land. The facts and figures given in these twolectures, as to the abject poverty of the people and the cruel system bywhich every inch of land had been grabbed by their oppressors, wereindeed appalling. A few days before sailing we made our last visit toErnestine L. Rose, and found our noble coadjutor, though in delicatehealth, pleasantly situated in the heart of London, as deeply interestedas ever in the struggles of the hour. 

A great discomfort, in all English homes, is the inadequate system ofheating. A moderate fire in the grate is the only mode of heating, andthey seem quite oblivious to the danger of throwing a door open into acold hall at one's back, while the servants pass in and out with thevarious courses at dinner. As we Americans were sorely tried, under suchcircumstances, it was decided, in the home of my son-in-law, Mr. Blatch, to have a hall-stove, which, after a prolonged search, was found inLondon and duly installed as a presiding deity to defy the dampness thatpervades all those ivy-covered habitations, as well as the neuralgiathat wrings their possessors. What a blessing it proved, more than anyone thing making the old English house seem like an American home! Thedelightful summer heat we, in America, enjoy in the coldest seasons, isquite unknown to our Saxon cousins. Although many came to see our stovein full working order, yet we could not persuade them to adopt theAmerican system of heating the whole house at an even temperature. Theycling to the customs of their fathers with an obstinacy that isincomprehensible to us, who are always ready to try experiments. Americans complain bitterly of the same freezing experiences in Franceand Germany, and, in turn, foreigners all criticise our overheatedhouses and places of amusement. 

While attending a meeting in Birmingham I stayed with a relative ofJoseph Sturge, whose home I had visited forty years before. The meetingwas called to discuss the degradation of women under the ContagiousDiseases Act. Led by Josephine Butler, the women of England were deeplystirred on the question of its repeal and have since secured it. I heardMrs. Butler speak in many of her society meetings as well as on otheroccasions. Her style was not unlike that one hears in Methodist campmeetings from the best cultivated of that sect; her power lies in herdeeply religious enthusiasm. In London we met Emily Faithful, who hadjust returned from a lecturing tour in the United States, and were muchamused with her experiences. Having taken prolonged trips over the wholecountry, from Maine to Texas, for many successive years, Miss Anthonyand I could easily add the superlative to all her narrations. 

It was a pleasant surprise to meet the large number of Americans usuallyat the receptions of Mrs. Peter Taylor. Graceful and beautiful, in fulldress, standing beside her husband, who evidently idolized her, Mrs. Taylor appeared quite as refined in her drawing room as if she had neverbeen exposed to the public gaze while presiding over a suffrageconvention. Mrs. Taylor is called the mother of the suffrage movement. The reform has not been carried on in all respects to her taste, nor onwhat she considers the basis of high principle. Neither she nor Mrs. Jacob Bright has ever been satisfied with the bill asking the rights ofsuffrage for "widows and spinsters" only. To have asked this right "forall women duly qualified, " as but few married women are qualifiedthrough possessing property in their own right, would have beensubstantially the same, without making any invidious distinctions. Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Bright felt that, as married women were the greatestsufferers under the law, they should be the first rather than the lastto be enfranchised. The others, led by Miss Becker, claimed that it wasgood policy to make the demand for "spinsters and widows, " and thusexclude the "family unit" and "man's headship" from the discussion; andyet these were the very points on which the objections were invariablybased. They claimed that, if "spinsters and widows" were enfranchised, they would be an added power to secure to married women their rights. But the history of the past gives us no such assurance. It is notcertain that women would be more just than men, and a small privilegedclass of aristocrats have long governed their fellow-countrymen. Thefact that the spinsters in the movement advocated such a bill, showsthat they were not to be trusted in extending it. John Stuart Mill, too, was always opposed to the exclusion of married women in the demand forsuffrage. 

My sense of justice was severely tried by all I heard of thepersecutions of Mrs. Besant and Mr. Bradlaugh for their publications onthe right and duty of parents to limit population. Who can contemplatethe sad condition of multitudes of young children in the Old World whosefate is to be brought up in ignorance and vice--a swarming, seethingmass which nobody owns--without seeing the need of free discussion ofthe philosophical principles that underlie these tangled socialproblems? The trials of Foote and Ramsey, too, for blasphemy, seemedunworthy a great nation in the nineteenth century. Think ofwell-educated men of good moral standing thrown into prison in solitaryconfinement, for speaking lightly of the Hebrew idea of Jehovah and theNew Testament account of the birth of Jesus! Our Protestant clergy neverhesitate to make the dogmas and superstitions of the Catholic Churchseem as absurd as possible, and why should not those who imagine theyhave outgrown Protestant superstitions make them equally ridiculous?Whatever is true can stand investigation and ridicule. 

In the last of April, when the wildflowers were in their glory, Mrs. Mellen and her lovely daughter, Daisy, came down to our home atBasingstoke to enjoy its beauty. As Mrs. Mellen had known CharlesKingsley and entertained him at her residence in Colorado, she felt adesire to see his former home. Accordingly, one bright morning, Mr. Blatch drove us to Eversley, through Strathfieldsaye, the park of theDuke of Wellington. This magnificent place was given to him by theEnglish government after the battle of Waterloo. A lofty statue of theduke, that can be seen for miles around, stands at one entrance. A driveof a few miles further brought us to the parish church of CanonKingsley, where he preached many years, and where all that is mortal ofhim now lies buried. We wandered through the old church, among themoss-covered tombstones, and into the once happy home, now silent anddeserted--his loved ones being scattered in different quarters of theglobe. Standing near the last resting place of the author of "Hypatia, "his warning words for women, in a letter to John Stuart Mill, seemedlike a voice from heaven saying, with new inspiration and power, "Thiswill never be a good world for women until the last remnant of the canonlaw is civilized off the face of the earth. "

We heard Mr. Fawcett speak to his Hackney constituents at one of hiscampaign meetings. In the course of his remarks he mentioned withevident favor, as one of the coming measures, the disestablishment ofthe Church, and was greeted with loud applause. Soon after he spoke ofwoman suffrage as another question demanding consideration, but thiswas received with laughter and jeers, although the platform was crowdedwith advocates of the measure, among whom were the wife of the speakerand her sister, Dr. Garrett Anderson. The audience were evidently infavor of releasing themselves from being taxed to support the Church, forgetting that women were taxed not only to support a Church but also aState in the management of neither of which they had a voice. Mr. Fawcett was not an orator, but a simple, straightforward speaker. Hemade one gesture, striking his right clenched fist into the palm of hisleft hand at the close of all his strongest assertions, and, althoughmore liberal than his party, he was a great favorite with hisconstituents. 

One pleasant trip I made in England was to Bristol, to visit the MissesPriestman and Mrs. Tanner, sisters-in-law of John Bright. I had stayedat their father's house forty years before, so we felt like old friends. I found them all liberal women, and we enjoyed a few days together, talking over our mutual struggles, and admiring the beautiful sceneryfor which that part of the country is celebrated. The women of Englandwere just then organizing political clubs, and I was invited to speakbefore many of them. There is an earnestness of purpose among Englishwomen that is very encouraging under the prolonged disappointmentsreformers inevitably suffer. And the order of English homes, too, amongthe wealthy classes, is very enjoyable. All go on from year to year withthe same servants, the same surroundings, no changes, no moving, nobuilding even; in delightful contrast with our periodical upheavals, always uncertain where we shall go next, or how long our maindependents will stand by us. 

From Bristol I went to Greenbank to visit Mrs. Helen Bright Clark. Oneevening her parlors were crowded and I was asked to give an account ofthe suffrage movement in America. Some clergymen questioned me in regardto the Bible position of woman, whereupon I gave quite an exposition ofits general principles in favor of liberty and equality. As two distinctlines of argument can be woven out of those pages on any subject, onthis occasion I selected all the most favorable texts for justice towoman, and closed by stating the limits of its authority. Mrs. Clark, though thoroughly in sympathy with the views I had expressed, fearedlest my very liberal utterances might have shocked some of the strictestof the laymen and clergy. "Well, " said I, "if we who do see theabsurdities of the old superstitions never unveil them to others, how isthe world to make any progress in the theologies? I am in the sunset oflife, and I feel it to be my special mission to tell people what theyare not prepared to hear, instead of echoing worn-out opinions. " Theresult showed the wisdom of my speaking out of my own soul. To thesurprise of Mrs. Clark, the Primitive Methodist clergyman called onSunday morning to invite me to occupy his pulpit in the afternoon andpresent the same line of thought I had the previous evening. I acceptedhis invitation. He led the services, and I took my text from Genesis i. 27, 28, showing that man and woman were a simultaneous creation, endowed, in the beginning, with equal power. 

Returning to London, I accepted an invitation to take tea one afternoonwith Mrs. Jacob Bright, who, in earnest conversation, had helped useach to a cup of tea, and was turning to help us to something more, whenover went table and all--tea, bread and butter, cake, strawberries andcream, silver, china, in one conglomerate mass. Silence reigned. No onestarted; no one said "Oh!" Mrs. Bright went on with what she was sayingas if nothing unusual had occurred, rang the bell, and, when the servantappeared, pointing to the débris, she said, "Charles, remove this. " Iwas filled with admiration at her coolness, and devoutly thankful thatwe Americans maintained an equally dignified silence. 

At a grand reception, given in our honor by the National CentralCommittee, in Princess' Hall, Jacob Bright, M. P. , presided and made anadmirable opening speech, followed by his sister, Mrs. McLaren, with ahighly complimentary address of welcome. By particular request MissAnthony explained the industrial, legal, and political status ofAmerican women, while I set forth their educational, social, andreligious condition. John P. Thomasson, M. P. , made the closing address, expressing his satisfaction with our addresses and the progress made inboth countries. 

Mrs. Thomasson, daughter of Mrs. Lucas, gave several parties, receptions, and dinners, --some for ladies only, --where an abundantopportunity was offered for a critical analysis of the idiosyncrasies ofthe superior sex, especially in their dealings with women. The patienceof even such heroic souls as Lydia Becker and Caroline Biggs was almostexhausted with the tergiversations of Members of the House of Commons. Alas for the many fair promises broken, the hopes deferred, the votesfully relied on and counted, all missing in the hour of action! Onecrack of Mr. Gladstone's whip put a hundred Liberal members toflight--members whom these noble women had spent years in educating. Inever visited the House of Commons that I did not see Miss Becker andMiss Biggs trying to elucidate the fundamental principles of justgovernment to some of the legislators. Verily their divine faith andpatience merited more worthy action on the part of their allegedrepresentatives!

Miss Henrietta Müller gave a farewell reception to Miss Anthony and meon the eve of our departure for America, when we had the opportunity ofmeeting once more most of the pleasant acquaintances we had made inLondon. Although it was announced for the afternoon, we did, in fact, receive all day, as many could not come at the hour appointed. Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell took breakfast with us; Mrs. Fawcett, Mrs. Saville, and Miss Lord were with us at luncheon; Harriet Hosmer and Olive Logansoon after; Mrs. Peter Taylor later, and from three to six o'clock theparlors were crowded. 

Returning from London I passed my birthday, November 12, 1883, inBasingstoke. It was a sad day for us all, knowing that it was the lastday with my loved ones before my departure for America. When I imprintedthe farewell kiss on the soft cheek of my little granddaughter Nora inthe cradle, she in the dawn and I in the sunset of life, I realized howwidely the broad ocean would separate us. Miss Anthony, met me atAlderly Edge, where we spent a few days with Mr. And Mrs. Jacob Bright. There we found their noble sisters, Mrs. McLaren and Mrs. Lucas, youngWalter McLaren and his lovely bride, Eva Müller, whom we had heardseveral times on the suffrage platform. We rallied her on the step shehad lately taken, notwithstanding her sister's able paper on theblessedness of a single life. While there, we visited Dean Stanley'sbirthplace, but on his death the light and joy went out. The old churchwhose walls had once echoed to his voice, and the house where he hadspent so many useful years, seemed sad and deserted. But the day wasbright and warm, the scenery beautiful, cows and sheep were stillgrazing in the meadows, and the grass was as green as in June. This isEngland's chief charm, --it is forever green, --perhaps in compensationfor the many cloudy days. 

As our good friends Mrs. McLaren and Mrs. Lucas had determined to see ussafely on board the Servia, they escorted us to Liverpool, where we metMrs. Margaret Parker and Mrs. Scatcherd. Another reception was given usat the residence of Dr. Ewing Whittle. Several short speeches were made, and all present cheered the parting guests with words of hope andencouragement for the good cause. Here the wisdom of forming aninternational association was first considered. The proposition met withsuch favor from those present that a committee was appointed tocorrespond with the friends in different nations. Miss Anthony and Iwere placed on the committee, and while this project has not yet beenfully carried out, the idea of the intellectual co-operation of women tosecure equal rights and opportunities for their sex was the basis of theInternational Council of Women, which was held under the auspices of theNational Woman Suffrage Association in Washington, D. C, in March, 1888. 

On the Atlantic for ten days we had many opportunities to review all wehad seen and heard. Sitting on deck, hour after hour, how often Iqueried with myself as to the significance of the boon for which we wereso earnestly struggling. In asking for a voice in the government underwhich we live, have we been pursuing a shadow for fifty years? Inseeking political power, are we abdicating that social throne where theytell us our influence is unbounded? No, no! the right of suffrage is noshadow, but a substantial entity that the citizen can seize and hold forhis own protection and his country's welfare. A direct power over one'sown person and property, an individual opinion to be counted, on allquestions of public interest, are better than indirect influence, bethat ever so far reaching. 

Though influence, like the pure white light, is all-pervading, yet it isofttimes obscured with passing clouds and nights of darkness. Like thesun's rays, it may be healthy, genial, inspiring, though sometimes toodirect for comfort, too oblique for warmth, too scattered for anypurpose. But as the prism divides the rays, revealing the brilliantcolors of the light, so does individual sovereignty reveal the beauty ofrepresentative government, and as the burning-glass shows the power ofconcentrating the rays, so does the combined power of the multitudereveal the beauty of united effort to carry a grand measure. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

WOMAN AND THEOLOGY. 

Returning from Europe in the autumn of 1883, after visiting a largecircle of relatives and friends, I spent six weeks with my cousin, Elizabeth Smith Miller, at her home at Geneva, on Seneca Lake. 

Through Miss Frances Lord, a woman of rare culture and research, mydaughter and I had become interested in the school of theosophy, andread "Isis Unveiled, " by Madame Blavatsky, Sinnett's works on the"Occult World, " and "The Perfect Way, " by Anna Kingsford. Full of theseideas, I soon interested my cousins in the subject, and we resolved toexplore, as far as possible, some of these Eastern mysteries, of whichwe had heard so much. We looked in all directions to find some pilot tostart us on the right course. We heard that Gerald Massey was in NewYork city, lecturing on "The Devil, " "Ghosts, " and "Evil Spirits"generally, so we invited him to visit us and give a course of lecturesin Geneva. But, unfortunately, he was ill, and could not open new fieldsof thought to us at that time, though we were very desirous to get aglimpse into the unknown world, and hold converse with the immortals. AsI soon left Geneva with my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, our occultstudies were, for a time, abandoned. 

My daughter and I often talked of writing a story, she describing thecharacters and their environments and I attending to the philosophy andsoliloquies. As I had no special duties in prospect, we decided thatthis was the time to make our experiment. Accordingly we hastened to thefamily homestead at Johnstown, New York, where we could be entirelyalone. Friends on all sides wondered what had brought us there in thedepth of the winter. But we kept our secret, and set ourselves to workwith diligence, and after three months our story was finished to ourentire satisfaction. We felt sure that everyone who read it would bedeeply interested and that we should readily find a publisher. Wethought of "Our Romance" the first thing in the morning and talked of itthe last thing at night. But alas! friendly critics who read our storypointed out its defects, and in due time we reached their conclusions, and the unpublished manuscript now rests in a pigeonhole of my desk. Wehad not many days to mourn our disappointment, as Madge was summoned toher Western home, and Miss Anthony arrived armed and equipped withbushels of documents for vol. III. Of "The History of Woman Suffrage. "The summer and autumn of 1884 Miss Anthony and I passed at Johnstown, working diligently on the History, indulging only in an occasionaldrive, a stroll round the town in the evening, or a ride in the openstreet cars. 

Mrs. Devereux Blake was holding a series of conventions, at this time, through the State of New York, and we urged her to expend some of hermissionary efforts in my native town, which she did with good results. As the school election was near at hand Miss Anthony and I had severalpreliminary meetings to arouse the women to their duty as voters, and tothe necessity of nominating some woman for trustee. When the day forthe election arrived the large upper room of the Academy was filled withladies and gentlemen. Some timid souls who should have been there stayedat home, fearing there would be a row, but everything was conducted withdecency and in order. The chairman, Mr. Rosa, welcomed the ladies totheir new duties in a very complimentary manner. Donald McMartin statedthe law as to what persons were eligible to vote in school elections. Mrs. Horace Smith filled the office of teller on the occasion withpromptness and dignity, and Mrs. Elizabeth Wallace Yost was electedtrustee by a majority of seven. It is strange that intelligent women, who are supposed to feel some interest in the question of education, should be so indifferent to the power they possess to make our schoolsall that they should be. 

This was the year of the presidential campaign. The Republicans andDemocrats had each held their nominating conventions, and all classesparticipated in the general excitement. There being greatdissatisfaction in the Republican ranks, we issued a manifesto: "Standby the Republican Party, " not that we loved Blaine more, but Clevelandless. The latter was elected, therefore it was evident that our effortsdid not have much influence in turning the tide of national politics, though the Republican papers gave a broad circulation to our appeal. Dowden's description of the poet Shelley's efforts in scattering one ofhis suppressed pamphlets, reminded me of ours. He purchased bushels ofempty bottles, in which he placed his pamphlets; having corked them uptight, he threw the bottles into the sea at various fashionable wateringplaces, hoping they would wash ashore. Walking the streets of London inthe evening he would slip his pamphlets into the hoods of old ladies'cloaks, throw them in shop doors, and leave them in cabs and omnibuses. We scattered ours in the cars, inclosed them in every letter we wrote ornewspaper we sent through the country. 

The night before election Mr. Stanton and Professor Horace Smith spokein the Johnstown courthouse, and took rather pessimistic views of thefuture of the Republic should James G. Blaine be defeated. Cleveland waselected, and we still live as a nation, and are able to digest thethousands of foreign immigrants daily landing at our shores. The nightof the election a large party of us sat up until two o'clock to hear thenews. Mr. Stanton had long been one of the editorial writers on the NewYork Sun, and they sent him telegrams from that office until a latehour. However, the election was so close that we were kept in suspenseseveral days, before it was definitely decided. 

Miss Anthony left in December, 1884, for Washington, and I went to workon an article for the North American Review, entitled, "What hasChristianity done for Women?" I took the ground that woman was notindebted to any form of religion for the liberty she now enjoys, butthat, on the contrary, the religious element in her nature had alwaysbeen perverted for her complete subjection. Bishop Spaulding, in thesame issue of the Review, took the opposite ground, but I did not feelthat he answered my points. 

In January, 1885, my niece Mrs. Baldwin and I went to Washington toattend the Annual Convention of the National Woman Suffrage Association. It was held in the Unitarian church on the 20th, 21st, and 22d days ofthat month, and went off with great success, as did the usual receptiongiven by Mrs. Spofford at the Riggs House. This dear friend, one of ourmost ardent coadjutors, always made the annual convention a time formany social enjoyments. The main feature in this convention was theattempt to pass the following resolutions:

 "Whereas, The dogmas incorporated in religious creeds derived from Judaism, teaching that woman was an after-thought in the creation, her sex a misfortune, marriage a condition of subordination, and maternity a curse, are contrary to the law of God (as revealed in nature), and to the precepts of Christ, and, "Whereas, These dogmas are an insidious poison, sapping the vitality of our civilization, blighting woman, and, through her, paralyzing humanity; therefore be it

 "_Resolved_, That we call on the Christian ministry, as leaders of thought, to teach and enforce the fundamental idea of creation, that man was made in the image of God, male and female, and given equal rights over the earth, but none over each other. And, furthermore, we ask their recognition of the scriptural declaration that, in the Christian religion, there is neither male nor female, bond nor free, but all are one in Christ Jesus. "

As chairman of the committee I presented a series of resolutions, impeaching the Christian theology--as well as all other forms ofreligion, for their degrading teachings in regard to woman--which themajority of the committee thought too strong and pointed, and, aftermuch deliberation, they substituted the above, handing over to the Jewswhat I had laid at the door of the Christians. They thought they had sosugar-coated my ideas that the resolutions would pass withoutdiscussion. But some Jews in the convention promptly repudiated thisimpression of their faith and precipitated the very discussion Idesired, but which our more politic friends would fain have avoided. 

From the time of the decade meeting in Rochester, in 1878, MatildaJoslyn Gage, Edward M. Davis, and I had sedulously labored to rousewomen to a realization of their degraded position in the Church, andpresented resolutions at every annual convention for that purpose. Butthey were either suppressed or so amended as to be meaningless. Theresolutions of the annual convention of 1885, tame as they are, got intoprint and roused the ire of the clergy, and upon the following Sunday, Dr. Patton of Howard University preached a sermon on "Woman andSkepticism, " in which he unequivocally took the ground that freedom forwoman led to skepticism and immorality. He illustrated his position bypointing to Hypatia, Mary Wollstonecraft, Frances Wright, George Eliot, Harriet Martineau, Mme. Roland, Frances Power Cobbe, and VictoriaWoodhull. He made a grave mistake in the last names mentioned, as Mrs. Woodhull was a devout believer in the Christian religion, and surelyanyone conversant with Miss Cobbe's writings would never accuse her ofskepticism. His sermon was received with intense indignation, even bythe women of his own congregation. When he found what a whirlwind he hadstarted, he tried to shift his position and explain away much that hehad said. We asked him to let us have the sermon for publication, thatwe might not do him injustice. But as he contradicted himself flatly intrying to restate his discourse, and refused to let us see his sermon, those who heard him were disgusted with his sophistry andtergiversation. 

However, our labors in this direction are having an effect. Women arenow making their attacks on the Church all along the line. They aredemanding their right to be ordained as ministers, elders, deacons, andto be received as delegates in all the ecclesiastical convocations. Atlast they ask of the Church just what they have asked of the State forthe last half century--perfect equality--and the clergy, as a body, arequite as hostile to their demands as the statesmen. 

On my way back to Johnstown I spent ten days at Troy, where I preachedin the Unitarian church on Sunday evening. During this visit we had twohearings in the Capitol at Albany--one in the Senate Chamber and one inthe Assembly, before the Committee on Grievances. On both occasions Mrs. Mary Seymour Howell, Mrs. Devereux Blake, Mrs. Caroline Gilkey Rogers, and I addressed the Committee. Being open to the public, the chamber wascrowded. It was nearly forty years since I had made my first appeal inthe old Capitol at Albany. My reflections were sad and discouraging, asI sat there and listened to the speakers and remembered how long we hadmade our appeals at that bar, from year to year, in vain. The members ofthe committee presented the same calm aspect as their predecessors, asif to say, "Be patient, dear sisters, eternity is before us; this issimply a question of time. What may not come in your day, futuregenerations will surely possess. " It is always pleasant to know thatour descendants are to enjoy life, liberty, and happiness; but, when oneis gasping for one breath of freedom, this reflection is not satisfying. 

Returning to my native hills, I found the Lenten season had fairly setin, which I always dreaded on account of the solemn, tolling bell, theEpiscopal church being just opposite our residence. On Sunday we had thebells of six churches all going at the same time. It is strange how longcustoms continue after the original object has ceased to exist. At anearly day, when the country was sparsely settled and the people lived atgreat distances, bells were useful to call them together when there wasto be a church service. But now, when the churches are always open onSunday, and every congregation knows the hour of services and all haveclocks, bells are not only useless, but they are a terrible nuisance toinvalids and nervous people. If I am ever so fortunate as to be electeda member of a town council, my first efforts will be toward thesuppression of bells. 

To encourage one of my sex in the trying profession of book agent, Ipurchased, about this time, Dr. Lord's "Beacon Lights of History, " andread the last volume devoted to women, Pagan and Christian, saints andsinners. It is very amusing to see the author's intellectual wrigglingand twisting to show that no one can be good or happy without believingin the Christian religion. In describing great women who are notChristians, he attributes all their follies and miseries to that fact. In describing Pagan women, possessed of great virtues, he attributes alltheir virtues to Nature's gifts, which enable them to rise superior tosuperstitions. After dwelling on the dreary existence of those not ofChristian faith, he forthwith pictures his St. Teresa going throughtwenty years of doubts and fears about the salvation of her soul. Thehappiest people I have known have been those who gave themselves noconcern about their own souls, but did their uttermost to mitigate themiseries of others. 

In May, 1885, we left Johnstown and took possession of our house atTenafly, New Jersey. It seemed very pleasant, after wandering in the OldWorld and the New, to be in my own home once more, surrounded by thegrand trees I so dearly loved; to see the gorgeous sunsets, thetwinkling fireflies; to hear the whippoorwills call their familiar note, while the June bugs and the mosquitoes buzz outside the nets throughwhich they cannot enter. Many people complain of the mosquito in NewJersey, when he can so easily be shut out of the family circle by netsover all the doors and windows. I had a long piazza, encased in netting, where paterfamilias, with his pipe, could muse and gaze at the starsunmolested. 

June brought Miss Anthony and a box of fresh documents for anotherseason of work on vol. III. Of our History. We had a flying visit fromMiss Eddy of Providence, daughter of Mrs. Eddy who gave fifty thousanddollars to the woman suffrage movement, and a granddaughter of FrancisJackson of Boston, who also left a generous bequest to our reform. Wefound Miss Eddy a charming young woman with artistic tastes. She showedus several pen sketches she had made of some of our reformers, that wereadmirable likenesses. 

Mr. Stanton's "Random Recollections" were published at this time andwere well received. A dinner was given him, on his eightieth birthday(June 27, 1885), by the Press Club of New York city, with speeches andtoasts by his lifelong friends. As no ladies were invited I can onlyjudge from the reports in the daily papers, and what I could glean fromthe honored guest himself, that it was a very interesting occasion. 

Sitting in the summerhouse, one day, I witnessed a most amusing scene. Two of the boys, in search of employment, broke up a hornets' nest. Bruno, our large Saint Bernard dog, seeing them jumping about, thoughthe would join in the fun. The boys tried to drive him away, knowing thatthe hornets would get in his long hair, but Bruno's curiosity outran hiscaution and he plunged into the midst of the swarm and was sooncompletely covered. The buzzing and stinging soon sent the poor doghowling on the run. He rushed as usual, in his distress, to Amelia inthe kitchen, where she and the girls were making preserves and ironing. When they saw the hornets, they dropped irons, spoons, jars, everything, and rushed out of doors screaming. I appreciated the danger in time toget safely into the house before Bruno came to me for aid and comfort. At last they played the hose on him until he found some relief; themaidens, armed with towels, thrashed right and left, and the boys, withevergreen branches, fought bravely. I had often heard of "stirring up ahornets' nest, " but I had never before seen a practical demonstration ofits danger. For days after, if Bruno heard anything buzz, he would rushfor the house at the top of his speed. But in spite of these occasionallively episodes, vol. III. Went steadily on. 

My suffrage sons and daughters through all the Northern and WesternStates decided to celebrate, on the 12th of November, 1885, myseventieth birthday, by holding meetings or sending me gifts andcongratulations. This honor was suggested by Mrs. Elizabeth BoyntonHarbert in _The New Era_, a paper she was editing at that time. Thesuggestion met with a ready response. I was invited to deliver an essayon "The Pleasures of Age, " before the suffrage association in New Yorkcity. It took me a week to think them up, but with the inspiration ofLongfellow's "Morituri Salutamus, " I was almost converted to the ideathat "we old folks" had the best of it. 

The day was ushered in with telegrams, letters, and express packages, which continued to arrive during the week. From England, France, andGermany came cablegrams, presents, and letters of congratulation, andfrom all quarters came books, pictures, silver, bronzes, Californiablankets, and baskets of fruits and flowers. The eulogies in prose andverse were so hearty and numerous that the ridicule and criticism offorty years were buried so deep that I shall remember them no more. There is no class who enjoy the praise of their fellow-men like thosewho have had only blame most of their lives. The evening of the 12th wehad a delightful reunion at the home of Dr. Clemence Lozier, where Igave my essay, after which Mrs. Lozier, Mrs. Blake, Miss Anthony, "JennyJune, " and some of the younger converts to our platform, all made shortspeeches of praise and congratulation, which were followed by music, recitations, and refreshments. 

All during the autumn Miss Anthony and I looked forward to the spring, when we hoped to have completed the third and last volume of ourHistory, and thus end the labors of ten years. We had neither time noreyesight to read aught but the imperative documents for the History. Iwas hungering for some other mental pabulum. 

In January, 1886, I was invited to dine with Laura Curtis Bullard, tomeet Mme. Durand (Henri Gréville), the novelist. She seemed a politicrather than an earnest woman of principle. As it was often veryinconvenient for me to entertain distinguished visitors, who desired tomeet me in my country home during the winter, Mrs. Bullard generouslyoffered always to invite them to her home. She and her good mother havedone their part in the reform movements in New York by their generoushospitalities. 

Reading the debates in Congress, at that time, on a proposedappropriation for a monument to General Grant, I was glad to see thatSenator Plumb of Kansas was brave enough to express his opinion againstit. I fully agree with him. So long as multitudes of our people who aredoing the work of the world live in garrets and cellars, in ignorance, poverty, and vice, it is the duty of Congress to apply the surplus inthe national treasury to objects which will feed, clothe, shelter, andeducate these wards of the State. If we must keep on continuallybuilding monuments to great men, they should be handsome blocks ofcomfortable homes for the poor, such as Peabody built in London. SenatorHoar of Massachusetts favored the Grant monument, partly to cultivatethe artistic tastes of our people. We might as well cultivate our tasteson useful dwellings as on useless monuments. Surely sanitary homes andschoolhouses for the living would be more appropriate monuments to wisestatesmen than the purest Parian shafts among the sepulchers of thedead. 

The strikes and mobs and settled discontent of the masses warn us that, although we forget and neglect their interests and our duties, we do itat the peril of all. English statesmen are at their wits' end to-daywith their tangled social and industrial problems, threatening thethrone of a long line of kings. The impending danger cannot be avertedby any surface measures; there must be a radical change in the relationsof capital and labor. 

In April rumors of a domestic invasion, wafted on every Atlantic breeze, warned us that our children were coming from England and France--a partyof six. Fortunately, the last line of the History was written, so MissAnthony, with vol. III. And bushels of manuscripts, fled to the peacefulhome of her sister Mary at Rochester. The expected party sailed fromLiverpool the 26th of May, on the _America_ After being out three daysthe piston rod broke and they were obliged to return. My son-in-law, W. H. Blatch, was so seasick and disgusted that he remained in England, and took a fresh start two months later, and had a swift passage withoutany accidents. The rest were transferred to the _Germanic_, and reachedNew York the 12th of June. Different divisions of the party werearriving until midnight. Five people and twenty pieces of baggage! Theconfusion of such an invasion quite upset the even tenor of our days, and it took some time for people and trunks to find their respectiveniches. However crowded elsewhere, there was plenty of room in ourhearts, and we were unspeakably happy to have our flock all around usonce more. 

I had long heard so many conflicting opinions about the Bible--somesaying it taught woman's emancipation and some her subjection--that, during this visit of my children, the thought came to me that it Wouldbe well to collect every biblical reference to women in one smallcompact volume, and see on which side the balance of influence reallywas. To this end I proposed to organize a committee of competent women, with some Latin, Greek, and Hebrew scholars in England and the UnitedStates, for a thorough revision of the Old and New Testaments, and toascertain what the status of woman really was under the Jewish andChristian religion. As the Church has thus far interpreted the Bible asteaching woman's subjection, and none of the revisions by learnedecclesiastics have thrown any new light on the question, it seemed to mepre-eminently proper and timely for women themselves to review the book. As they are now studying theology in many institutions of learning, asking to be ordained as preachers, elders, deacons, and to be admitted, as delegates, to Synods and General Assemblies, and are refused on Biblegrounds, it seemed to me high time for women to consider thosescriptural arguments and authorities. 

A happy coincidence enabled me at last to begin this work. While mydaughter, Mrs. Stanton Blatch, was with me, our friend Miss FrancesLord, on our earnest invitation, came to America to visit us. She landedin New York the 4th of August, 1886. As it was Sunday she could nottelegraph, hence there was no one to meet her, and, as we all satchatting on the front piazza, suddenly, to our surprise and delight, shedrove up. After a few days' rest and general talk of passing events, Ilaid the subject so near my heart before her and my daughter. Theyresponded promptly and heartily, and we immediately set to work. I wroteto every woman who I thought might join such a committee, and Miss Lordran through the Bible in a few days, marking each chapter that in anyway referred to women. We found that the work would not be so great aswe imagined, as all the facts and teachings in regard to women occupiedless than one-tenth of the whole Scriptures. We purchased some cheapBibles, cut out the texts, pasted them at the head of the page, and, underneath, wrote our commentaries as clearly and concisely as possible. We did not intend to have sermons or essays, but brief comments, to keep"The Woman's Bible" as small as possible. 

Miss Lord and I worked several weeks together, and Mrs. Blatch and I, during the winter of 1887, wrote all our commentaries on the Pentateuch. But we could not succeed in forming the committee, nor, after writinginnumerable letters, make the women understand what we wanted to do. Istill have the commentaries of the few who responded, and the letters ofthose who declined--a most varied and amusing bundle of manuscripts inthemselves. Some said the Bible had no special authority with them;that, like the American Constitution, it could be interpreted to meananything--slavery, when we protected that "Institution, " and freedom, when it existed no longer. Others said that woman's sphere was clearlymarked out in the Scriptures, and all attempt at emancipation was flyingin the face of Providence. Others said they considered all the revisionsmade by men thus far, had been so many acts of sacrilege, and they didhope women would not add their influence, to weaken the faith of thepeople in the divine origin of the Holy Book, for, if men and womencould change it in one particular, they could in all. On the whole thecorrespondence was discouraging. 

Later Miss Lord became deeply interested in psychical researches, and Icould get no more work out of her. And as soon as we had finished thePentateuch, Mrs. Blatch declared she would go no farther; that it wasthe driest history she had ever read, and most derogatory to women. Mybeloved coadjutor, Susan B. Anthony, said that she thought it a work ofsupererogation; that when our political equality was recognized and webecame full-fledged American citizens, the Church would make haste tobring her Bibles and prayer books, creeds and discipline up to the samehigh-water mark of liberty. 

Helen Gardener said: "I consider this a most important proposal, and ifyou and I can ever stay on the same side of the Atlantic long enough, wewill join hands and do the work. In fact, I have begun already withPaul's Epistles, and am fascinated with the work. The untenable andunscientific positions he takes in regard to women are very amusing. Although the first chapter of Genesis teaches the simultaneous creationof man and woman, Paul bases woman's subjection on the priority of man, and because woman was of the man. As the historical fact is that, as farback as history dates, the man has been of the woman, should hetherefore be forever in bondage to her? Logically, according to Paul, heshould. "

I consulted several friends, such as Dr. William F. Channing, Mr. AndMrs. Moncure D. Conway, Gertrude Garrison, Frederick Cabot, and EdwardM. Davis, as to the advisability of the work, and they all agreed thatsuch a volume, showing woman's position under the Jewish and Christianreligions, would be valuable, but none of them had time to assist in theproject. Though, owing to all these discouragements, I discontinued mywork, I never gave up the hope of renewing it some time, when other ofmy coadjutors should awake to its importance and offer their services. 

On October 27, 1886, with my daughter, nurse, and grandchild, I againsailed for England. Going out of the harbor in the clear early morning, we had a fine view of Bartholdi's statue of Liberty Enlightening theWorld. We had a warm, gentle rain and a smooth sea most of the way, and, as we had a stateroom on deck, we could have the portholes open, andthus get all the air we desired. With novels and letters, chess andwhist the time passed pleasantly, and, on the ninth day, we landed inLiverpool. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

ENGLAND AND FRANCE REVISITED. 

On arriving at Basingstoke we found awaiting us cordial letters ofwelcome from Miss Biggs, Miss Priestman, Mrs. Peter Taylor, Mrs. Priscilla McLaren, Miss Müller, Mrs. Jacob Bright, and Mme. De Barrau. During the winter Mrs. Margaret Bright Lucas, Drs. Kate and JuliaMitchell, Mrs. Charles McLaren, Mrs. Saville, and Miss Balgarnie eachspent a day or two with us. The full-dress costume of the ladies was agreat surprise to my little granddaughter Nora. She had never seen bareshoulders in a drawing room, and at the first glance she could notbelieve her eyes. She slowly made the circuit of the room, coming nearerand nearer until she touched the lady's neck to see whether or not itwas covered with some peculiar shade of dress, but finding the bare skinshe said: "Why, you are not dressed, are you? I see your skin!" Thescene suggested to me the amusing description in Holmes' "Elsie Venner, "of the efforts of a young lady, seated between two old gentlemen, toshow off her white shoulders. The vicar would not look, but steadilyprayed that he might not be led into temptation; but the physician, withgreater moral hardihood, deliberately surveyed the offered charms, withspectacles on his nose. 

In December Hattie and I finished Dowden's "Life of Shelley, " which wehad been reading together. Here we find a sensitive, refined nature, full of noble purposes, thrown out when too young to meet all life'semergencies, with no loving Mentor to guard him from blunders or to helpto retrieve the consequences of his false positions. Had he beensurrounded with a few true friends, who could appreciate what was greatin him and pity what was weak, his life would have been different. Hisfather was hard, exacting, and unreasonable; hence he had no influence. His mother had neither the wisdom to influence him, nor the courage torebuke her husband; and alas! poor woman, she was in such thraldomherself to conventionalisms, that she could not understand a youth whoset them all at defiance. 

[Illustration: THREE GENERATIONS. ]

[Illustration: MY EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY. ]

We also read Cotton Morrison's "Service of Man, " which I hope will be anew inspiration to fresh labors by all for the elevation of humanity, and Carnegie's "Triumphant Democracy, " showing the power our country isdestined to wield and the vastness of our domain. This book must giveevery American citizen a feeling of deeper responsibility than everbefore to act well his part. We read, too, Harriet Martineau'stranslation of the works of Auguste Comte, and found the part on womanmost unsatisfactory. He criticises Aristotle's belief that slavery is anecessary element of social life, yet seems to think the subjection ofwoman in modern civilization a matter of no importance. 

All through that winter Hattie and I occupied our time studying theBible and reading the commentaries of Clark, Scott, and Wordsworth(Bishop of Lincoln). We found nothing grand in the history of the Jewsnor in the morals inculcated in the Pentateuch. Surely the writers had avery low idea of the nature of their God. They make Him not onlyanthropomorphic, but of the very lowest type, jealous and revengeful, loving violence rather than mercy. I know no other books that so fullyteach the subjection and degradation of woman. Miriam, the eldest sisterof Moses and Aaron, a genius, a prophetess, with the family aptitude fordiplomacy and government, is continually set aside because of hersex--permitted to lead the women in singing and dancing, nothing more. No woman could offer sacrifices nor eat the holy meats because, according to the Jews, she was too unclean and unholy. 

But what is the use, say some, of attaching any importance to thecustoms and teachings of a barbarous people? None whatever. But when ourbishops, archbishops, and ordained clergymen stand up in their pulpitsand read selections from the Pentateuch with reverential voice, theymake the women of their congregation believe that there really is somedivine authority for their subjection. In the Thirty-First Chapter ofNumbers, in speaking of the spoils taken from the Midianites, the livestock is thus summarized: "Five thousand sheep, threescore and twelvethousand beeves, threescore and one thousand asses, and thirty-twothousand women and women-children, " which Moses said the warriors mightkeep for themselves. What a pity a Stead had not been there, to protectthe child-women of the Midianites and rebuke the Lord's chosen people asthey deserved! In placing the women after the sheep, the beeves, and theasses, we have a fair idea of their comparative importance in the scaleof being, among the Jewish warriors. No wonder the right reverendbishops and clergy of the Methodist Church, who believe in the divineorigin and authority of the Pentateuch, exclude women from their greatconvocations in the American Republic in the nineteenth century. In viewof the fact that our children are taught to reverence the book as ofdivine origin, I think we have a right to ask that, in the nextrevision, all such passages be expurgated, and to that end learned, competent women must have an equal place on the revising committee. 

Mrs. Margaret Bright Lucas came, in February, to spend a few days withus. She was greatly shocked with many texts in the Old Testament, towhich we called her attention, and said: "Here is an insidious influenceagainst the elevation of women, which but few of us have ever taken intoconsideration. " She had just returned from a flying visit to America;having made two voyages across the Atlantic and traveled three thousandmiles across the continent in two months, and this at the age ofsixty-eight years. She was enthusiastic in her praises of the women shemet in the United States. As her name was already on the committee toprepare "The Woman's Bible, " we had her hearty approval of theundertaking. 

In October Hattie went to London, to attend a meeting to form a Woman'sLiberal Federation. Mrs. Gladstone presided. The speeches made weresimply absurd, asking women to organize themselves to help the Liberalparty, which had steadily denied to them the political rights they haddemanded for twenty years. Professor Stuart capped the climax of insultwhen he urged as "one great advantage in getting women to canvass forthe Liberal party was that they would give their services free. " TheLiberals saw what enthusiasm the Primrose Dames had roused for the Toryparty, really carrying the election, and they determined to utilize asimilar force in their ranks. But the whole movement was an insult towomen. 

The one absorbing interest, then, was the Queen's Jubilee. Ladies formedsocieties to collect funds to place at the disposal of the Queen. Everylittle village was divided into districts, and different ladies took therounds, begging pennies at every door of servants and the laboringmasses, and pounds of the wealthy people. One of them paid us a visit. She asked the maid who opened the door to see the rest of the servants, and she begged a penny of each of them. She then asked to see themistress. My daughter descended; but, instead of a pound, she gave her alecture on the Queen's avarice. When the fund was started the peoplesupposed the Queen was to return it all to the people in liberalendowments of charitable institutions, but her Majesty proposed to builda monument to Prince Albert, although he already had one in London. "TheQueen, " said my daughter, "should celebrate her Jubilee by giving goodgifts to her subjects, and not by filching from the poor their pennies. To give half her worldly possessions to her impoverished people, to giveHome Rule to Ireland, or to make her public schools free, would be deedsworthy her Jubilee; but to take another cent from those who arehopelessly poor is a sin against suffering humanity. " The young womanrealized the situation and said: "I shall go no farther. I wish I couldreturn every penny I have taken from the needy. "

The most fitting monuments this nation can build are schoolhouses andhomes for those who do the work of the world. It is no answer to saythat they are accustomed to rags and hunger. In this world of plentyevery human being has a right to food, clothes, decent shelter, and therudiments of education. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark"when one-tenth of the human family, booted and spurred, ride the massesto destruction. I detest the words "royalty" and "nobility, " and all theideas and institutions based on their recognition. In April the greatmeeting in Hyde Park occurred--a meeting of protest against the IrishCoercion Bill. It was encouraging to see that there is a democratic aswell as an aristocratic England. The London journals gave very differentaccounts of the meeting. The Tories said it was a mob of inconsequentialcranks. Reason teaches us, however, that you cannot get up a large, enthusiastic meeting unless there is some question pending that touchesthe heart of the people. Those who say that Ireland has no grievancesare ignorant alike of human nature and the facts of history. 

On April 14 I went to Paris, my daughter escorting me to Dover, and myson meeting me at Calais. It was a bright, pleasant day, and I sat ondeck and enjoyed the trip, though many of my fellow passengers were paleand limp. Whirling to Paris in an easy car, through the beautifulwheatfields and vineyards, I thought of the old lumbering diligence, inwhich we went up to Paris at a snail's pace forty years before. Iremained in Paris until October, and never enjoyed six months morethoroughly. One of my chief pleasures was making the acquaintance of myfourth son, Theodore. I had seen but little of him since he was sixteenyears old, as he then spent five years at Cornell University, and asmany more in Germany and France. He had already published two works, "The Life of Thiers, " and "The Woman Question in Europe. " To have a soninterested in the question to which I have devoted my life, is a sourceof intense satisfaction. To say that I have realized in him all I coulddesire, is the highest praise a fond mother can give. 

My first experience in an apartment, living on an even plane, no runningup and down stairs, was as pleasant as it was surprising. I had no ideaof the comfort and convenience of this method of keeping house. Ourapartment in Paris consisted of drawing room, dining room, library, agood-sized hall, in which stood a large American stove, five bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen, and a balcony fifty-two feet long and four feetwide. The first few days it made me dizzy to look down from this balconyto the street below. I was afraid the whole structure would give way, itappeared so light and airy, hanging midway between earth and heaven. Butmy confidence in its steadfastness and integrity grew day by day, and itbecame my favorite resort, commanding, as it did, a magnificent view ofthe whole city and distant surroundings. 

There were so many Americans in town, and French reformers to be seen, that I gave Wednesday afternoon receptions during my whole visit. To oneof our "at homes" came Mlle. Maria Deraismes, the only female Free Masonin France, and the best woman orator in the country; her sister, Mme. Féresse-Deraismes, who takes part in all woman movements; M. LéonRicher, then actively advocating the civil and political rights of womenthrough the columns of his vigorous journal; Mme. Griess Traut, whomakes a specialty of Peace work; Mme. Isabelle Bogelot, who afterwardattended the Washington Council of 1888, and who is a leader in charitywork; the late Mme. Emilie de Morsier, who afterward was the soul of theInternational Congress of 1889, at Paris; Mme. Pauline Kergomard, thefirst woman to be made a member of the Superior Council of publicInstruction in France, and Mme. Henri Gréville, the novelist. 

Among the American guests at our various Wednesday receptions were Mr. And Mrs. John Bigelow, Mr. And Mrs. James G. Blaine, Mr. Daniel C. French, the Concord sculptor; Mrs. J. C. Ayer, Mr. L. White Busbey, oneof the editors of the Chicago _Inter-Ocean_; Rev. Dr. Henry M. Field, Charles Gifford Dyer, the painter and father of the gifted youngviolinist, Miss Hella Dyer; the late Rev. Mr. Moffett, then UnitedStates Consul at Athens, Mrs. Governor Bagley and daughter of Michigan;Grace Greenwood and her talented daughter, who charmed everyone with hermelodious voice, and Miss Bryant, daughter of the poet. One visitor whointerested us most was the Norwegian novelist and republican, Bjornstjorne Bjornson. 

We had several pleasant interviews with Frederick Douglass and his wife, some exciting games of chess with Theodore Tilton, in the pleasantapartments of the late W. J. A. Fuller, Esq. , and his daughter, Miss KateFuller. At this time I also met our brilliant countrywoman, LouiseChandler Moulton. Seeing so many familiar faces, I could easily imaginemyself in New York rather than in Paris. I attended several receptionsand dined with Mrs. Charlotte Beebe Wilbour, greatly enjoying her cleverdescriptions of a winter on the Nile in her own dahabeeyeh. I heard PèreHyacinthe preach, and met his American wife on several occasions. I tooklong drives every day through the parks and pleasant parts of the city. With garden concerts, operas, theaters, and the Hippodrome I foundabundant amusement. I never grew weary of the latter performance--thewonderful intelligence displayed there by animals, being a freshsurprise to me every time I went. 

I attended a reception at the Elysée Palace, escorted by M. JosephFabre, then a deputy and now a senator. M. Fabre is the author of a playand several volumes devoted to Joan of Arc. He presented me to thePresident and to Mme. Jules Grévy. I was also introduced to M. JulesFerry, then Prime Minister, who said, among other things: "I am sorry toconfess it, but it is only too true, our French women are far behindtheir sisters in America. " The beautiful, large garden was thrown openthat evening, --it was in July, --and the fine band of the RepublicanGuard gave a delightful concert under the big trees. I also met M. Grévy's son-in-law, M. Daniel Wilson. He was then a deputy and one ofthe most powerful politicians in France. A few months later he causedhis father's political downfall. I have a vivid recollection of himbecause he could speak English, his father having been a Britishsubject. 

I visited the picture galleries once more, after a lapse of nearly fiftyyears, and was struck by the fact that, in that interval, several womenhad been admitted to places of honor. This was especially noticeable inthe Luxembourg Sculpture Gallery, where two women, Mme. Bertaux and thelate Claude Vignon, wife of M. Rouvier, were both represented by goodwork--the first and only women sculptors admitted to that gallery. 

At a breakfast party which we gave, I made the acquaintance of GeneralCluseret, who figured in our Civil War, afterward became War Ministerof the Paris Commune, and is now member of the Chamber of Deputies. Helearned English when in America, and had not entirely forgotten it. Hetold anecdotes of Lincoln, Stanton, Sumner, Fremont, Garibaldi, theCount of Paris, and many other famous men whom he once knew, and provedto be a very interesting conversationalist. 

Old bookstands were always attractive centers of interest to Theodore, and, among other treasure-troves, he brought home one day a boy offourteen years, whose office it had been to watch the books. He was abright, cheery little fellow of mixed French and German descent, whocould speak English, French, and German. He was just what we haddesired, to run errands and tend the door. As he was delighted with theidea of coming to us, we went to see his parents. We were pleased withtheir appearance and surroundings. We learned that they were members ofthe Lutheran Church, that the boy was one of the shining lights inSunday school, and the only point in our agreement on which they werestrenuous was that he should go regularly to Sunday school and have timeto learn his lessons. 

So "Immanuel" commenced a new life with us, and as we had unboundedconfidence in the boy's integrity, we excused his shortcomings, and, fora time, believed all he said. But before long we found out that themoment we left the house he was in the drawing room, investigating everydrawer, playing on the piano, or sleeping on the sofa. Though he wastold never to touch the hall stove, he would go and open all thedraughts and make it red-hot. Then we adopted the plan of locking upevery part of the apartment but the kitchen. He amused himself burningholes through the pantry shelves, when the cook was out, and boringholes, with a gimlet, through a handsomely carved bread board. One day, in making up a spare bed for a friend, under the mattress were foundinnumerable letters he was supposed to have mailed at different times. When we reprimanded him for his pranks he would look at us steadily, butsorrowfully, and, immediately afterward, we would hear him dancing downthe corridor singing, "Safe in the Arms of Jesus. " If he had given heedto one-half we said to him, he would have been safer in our hands thanin those of his imaginary protector. He turned out a thief, anunmitigated liar, a dancing dervish, and, through all our experiences ofsix weeks with him, his chief reading was his Bible and Sunday-schoolbooks. The experience, however, was not lost on Theodore--he has neversuggested a boy since, and a faithful daughter of Eve reigns in hisstead. 

During the summer I was in the hands of two artists, Miss Anna Klumpke, who painted my portrait, and Paul Bartlett, who molded my head in clay. To shorten the operation, sometimes I sat for both at the same time. Although neither was fully satisfied with the results of their labors, we had many pleasant hours together, discussing their art, their earlytrials, and artists in general. Each had good places in the _Salon_, andhonorable mention that year. It is sad to see so many American girls andboys, who have no genius for painting or sculpture, spending their daysin garrets, in solitude and poverty, with the vain hope of earningdistinction. Women of all classes are awaking to the necessity ofself-support, but few are willing to do the ordinary useful work forwhich they are fitted. In the _Salon_ that year six thousand pictureswere offered, and only two thousand accepted, and many of these were"skyed. "

It was lovely on our balcony at night to watch the little boats, withtheir lights, sailing up and down the Seine, especially the day of thegreat annual fête, --the 14th of July, --when the whole city wasmagnificently illuminated. We drove about the city on several occasionsat midnight, to see the life--men, women, and children enjoying the coolbreezes, and the restaurants all crowded with people. 

Sunday in Paris is charming--it is the day for the masses of the people. All the galleries of art, the libraries, concert halls, and gardens areopen to them. All are dressed in their best, out driving, walking, andhaving picnics in the various parks and gardens; husbands, wives, andchildren laughing and talking happily together. The seats in the streetsand parks are all filled with the laboring masses. The benches all overParis--along the curbstones in every street and highway--show the caregiven to the comfort of the people. You will see mothers and nurses withtheir babies and children resting on these benches, laboring men eatingtheir lunches and sleeping there at noon, the organ grinders andmonkeys, too, taking their comfort. In France you see men and womeneverywhere together; in England the men generally stagger about alone, caring more for their pipes and beer than their mothers, wives, andsisters. Social life, among the poor especially, is far more natural andharmonious in France than in England, because women mix more freely inbusiness and amusements. 

Coming directly from Paris to London, one is forcibly struck with thegloom of the latter city, especially at night. Paris with its electriclights is brilliant everywhere, while London, with its meager gas jetshere and there struggling with the darkness, is as gloomy and desolateas Dore's pictures of Dante's Inferno. On Sunday, when the shops areclosed, the silence and solitude of the streets, the general smokyblackness of the buildings and the atmosphere give one a melancholyimpression of the great center of civilization. Now that it has beendiscovered that smoke can be utilized and the atmosphere cleared, it isastonishing that the authorities do not avail themselves of thediscovery, and thus bring light and joy and sunshine into that city, andthen clean the soot of centuries from their blackened buildings. 

On my return to England I spent a day with Miss Emily Lord, at herkindergarten establishment. She had just returned from Sweden, where shespent six weeks in the carpenter's shop, studying the Swedish Slöjdsystem, in which children of twelve years old learn to use tools, makingspoons, forks, and other implements. Miss Lord showed us some of herwork, quite creditable for her first attempts. She said the children inthe higher grades of her school enjoyed the carpenter work immensely andbecame very deft in the use of tools. 

On November 1, 1887, we reached Basingstoke once more, and found allthings in order. My diary tells of several books I read during thewinter and what the authors say of women; one the "Religio Medici, " bySir Thomas Browne, M. D. , in which the author discourses on many highthemes, God, Creation, Heaven, Hell, and vouchsafes one sentence onwoman. Of her he says: "I was never married but once and commend theirresolution who never marry twice, not that I disallow of second, nor inall cases of polygamy, which, considering the unequal number of thesexes, may also be necessary. The whole world was made for man, but thetwelfth part of man for woman. Man is the whole world--the breath ofGod; woman the rib and crooked piece of man. I speak not in prejudicenor am averse from that sweet sex, but naturally amorous of all that isbeautiful. I can look all day at a handsome picture, though it be but ahorse. "

Turning to John Paul Friedrich Richter, I found in his chapter on womanmany equally ridiculous statements mixed up with much fulsomeadmiration. After reading some volumes of Richter, I took up HeinrichHeine, the German poet and writer. He said: "Oh, the women! We mustforgive them much, for they love much and many. Their hate is, properly, only love turned inside out. Sometimes they attribute some delinquencyto us, because they think they can, in this way, gratify another man. When they write they have always one eye on the paper and the other eyeon some man. This is true of all authoresses except the Countess HahnHahn, who has only one eye. " John Ruskin's biography he gives us aglimpse of his timidity in regard to the sex, when a young man. He wasvery fond of the society of girls, but never knew how to approach them. He said he "was perfectly happy in serving them, would gladly make abridge of himself for them to walk over, a beam to fasten a swing to forthem--anything but to talk to them. " Such are some of the choicespecimens of masculine wit I collected during my winter's reading!

At a reception given to me by Drs. Julia and Kate Mitchell, sisterspracticing medicine in London, I met Stepniak, the Russian Nihilist, aman of grand presence and fine conversational powers. He was about to goto America, apprehensive lest our Government should make an extraditiontreaty with Russia to return political offenders, as he knew thatproposal had been made. A few weeks later he did visit the UnitedStates, and had a hearing before a committee of the Senate. He pointedout the character of the Nihilist movement, declaring Nihilists to bethe real reformers, the true lovers of liberty, sacrificing themselvesfor the best interests of the people, and yet, as political prisoners, they are treated worse than the lowest class of criminals in the prisonsand mines of Siberia. 

I had a very unpleasant interview, during this visit to London, withMiss Lydia Becker, Miss Caroline Biggs, and Miss Blackburn, at theMetropole, about choosing delegates to the International Council ofWomen soon to be held in Washington. As there had been someirreconcilable dissensions in the suffrage association, and they couldnot agree as to whom their delegate should be, they decided to send noneat all. I wrote at once to Mrs. Priscilla Bright McLaren, pointing outwhat a shame it would be if England, above all countries, should not berepresented in the first International Council ever called by a suffrageassociation. She replied promptly that must not be, and immediatelymoved in the matter, and through her efforts three delegates were soonauthorized to go, representing different constituencies--Mrs. AliceCliff Scatcherd, Mrs. Ormiston Chant, and Mrs. Ashton Dilke. 

Toward the last of February, 1888, we went again to London to make afew farewell visits to dear friends. We spent a few days with Mrs. MonaCaird, who was then reading Karl Pearson's lectures on "Woman, " andexpounding her views on marriage, which she afterward gave to theWestminster Review, and stirred the press to white heat both in Englandand America. "Is Marriage a Failure?" furnished the heading for ourquack advertisements for a long time after. Mrs. Caird was a verygraceful, pleasing woman, and so gentle in manner and appearance that noone would deem her capable of hurling such thunderbolts at thelong-suffering Saxon people. 

We devoted one day to Prince Krapotkine, who lives at Harrow, in thesuburbs of London. A friend of his, Mr. Lieneff, escorted us there. Wefound the prince, his wife, and child in very humble quarters;uncarpeted floors, books and papers on pine shelves, wooden chairs, andthe bare necessaries of life--nothing more. They indulge in no luxuries, but devote all they can spare to the publication of liberal opinions tobe scattered in Russia, and to help Nihilists in escaping from thedominions of the Czar. The prince and princess took turns in holding andamusing the baby--then only one year old; fortunately it slept most ofthe time, so that the conversation flowed on for some hours. Krapotkinetold us of his sad prison experiences, both in France and Russia. Hesaid the series of articles by George Kennan in the _Century_ were nottoo highly colored, that the sufferings of men and women in Siberia andthe Russian prisons could not be overdrawn. One of the refinements ofcruelty they practice on prisoners is never to allow them to hear thehuman voice. A soldier always accompanies the warder who distributesthe food, to see that no word is spoken. In vain the poor prisoner asksquestions, no answer is ever made, no tidings from the outside worldever given. One may well ask what devil in human form has prescribedsuch prison life and discipline! I wonder if we could find a man in allRussia who would defend the system, yet someone is responsible for itsterrible cruelties!

We returned to Basingstoke, passed the few remaining days in lookingover papers and packing for the voyage, and, on March 4, 1888, Mrs. Blatch went with me to Southampton. On the train I met my companions forthe voyage, Mrs. Gustafsen, Mrs. Ashton Dilke, and Baroness Gripenberg, from Finland, a very charming woman, to whom I felt a strong attraction. The other delegates sailed from Liverpool. We had a rough voyage andmost of the passengers were very sick. Mrs. Dilke and I were well, however, and on deck every day, always ready to play whist and chesswith a few gentlemen who were equally fortunate. I was much impressedwith Mrs. Dilke's kindness and generosity in serving others. There was alady on board with two children, whose nurse at the last minute refusedto go with her. The mother was sick most of the way, and Mrs. Dilke didall in her power to relieve her, by amusing the little boy, telling himstories, walking with him on deck, and watching him throughout the day, no easy task to perform for an entire stranger. The poor little motherwith a baby in her arms must have appreciated such kindly attention. 

When the pilot met us off Sandy Hook, he brought news of the terribleblizzard New York had just experienced, by which all communication withthe world at large was practically suspended. The captain brought himdown into the saloon to tell us all about it. The news was so startlingthat at first we thought the pilot was joking, but when he produced themetropolitan journals to verify his statements, we listened to thereading and what he had to say with profound astonishment. The secondweek in March, 1888, will be memorable in the history of storms in thevicinity of New York. The snow was ten feet deep in some places, and theside streets impassable either for carriages or sleighs. I hoped thecity would be looking its best, for the first impression on my foreignfriends, but it never looked worse, with huge piles of snow everywherecovered with black dust. 

I started for Washington at three o'clock, the day after our arrival, reached there at ten o'clock, and found my beloved friends, Miss Anthonyand Mrs. Spofford, with open arms and warm hearts to receive me. As thevessel was delayed two days, our friends naturally thought we, too, hadencountered a blizzard, but we had felt nothing of it; on the contrarythe last days were the most pleasant of the voyage. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE INTERNATIONAL COUNCIL OF WOMEN. 

Pursuant to the idea of the feasibility and need of an InternationalCouncil of Women, mentioned in a preceding chapter, it was decided tocelebrate the fourth decade of the woman suffrage movement in the UnitedStates by calling together such a council. At its nineteenth annualconvention, held in January, 1887, the National Woman SuffrageAssociation resolved to assume the entire responsibility of holding acouncil, and to extend an invitation, for that purpose, to allassociations of women in the trades, professions, and reforms, as wellas those advocating political rights. Early in June, 1887, a call wasissued for such a council to convene under the auspices of the NationalWoman Suffrage Association at Washington, D. C, on March 25, 1888. Thegrand assemblage of women, coming from all the countries of thecivilized globe, proved that the call for such a council was opportune, while the order and dignity of the proceedings proved the women worthythe occasion. No one doubts now the wisdom of that initiative step northe added power women have gained over popular thought through theInternational Council. 

As the proceedings of the contention were fully and graphically reportedin the _Woman's Tribune_ at that time, and as its reports were afterwardpublished in book form, revised and corrected by Miss Anthony, MissFoster, and myself, I will merely say that our most sanguineexpectations as to its success were more than realized. The largetheater was crowded for an entire week, and hosts of able women spoke, as if specially inspired, on all the vital questions of the hour. Although the council was called and conducted by the suffrageassociation, yet various other societies were represented. Miss Anthonywas the financier of the occasion and raised twelve thousand dollars forthe purpose, which enabled her to pay all the expenses of the delegatesin Washington, and for printing the report in book form. As soon as Ireached Washington, Miss Anthony ordered me to remain conscientiously inmy own apartment and to prepare a speech for delivery before thecommittees of the Senate and House, and another, as President, for theopening of the council. However, as Mrs. Spofford placed her carriage atour service, I was permitted to drive an hour or two every day aboutthat magnificent city. 

One of the best speeches at the council was made by Helen H. Gardener. It was a criticism of Dr. Hammond's position in regard to the inferiorsize and quality of woman's brain. As the doctor had never had theopportunity of examining the brains of the most distinguished women, and, probably, those only of paupers and criminals, she felt he had nodata on which to base his conclusions. Moreover, she had the writtenopinion of several leading physicians, that it was quite impossible todistinguish the male from the female brain. 

The hearing at the Capitol, after the meeting of the council, was veryinteresting, as all the foreign delegates were invited to speak each inthe language of her own country; to address their allegedrepresentatives in the halls of legislation was a privilege they hadnever enjoyed at home. It is very remarkable that English women havenever made the demand for a hearing in the House of Commons, nor evenfor a decent place to sit, where they can hear the debates and see thefine proportions of the representatives. The delegates had severalbrilliant receptions at the Riggs House, and at the houses of SenatorStanford of California and Senator Palmer of Michigan. Miss Anthony andI spent two months in Washington, that winter. One of the greatpleasures of our annual conventions was the reunion of our friends atthe Riggs House, where we enjoyed the boundless hospitality of Mr. AndMrs. Spofford. 

The month of June I spent in New York city, where I attended several ofColonel Robert G. Ingersoll's receptions and saw the great orator andiconoclast at his own fireside, surrounded by his admirers, and heardhis beautiful daughters sing, which gave all who listened greatpleasure, as they have remarkably fine voices. One has since married, and is now pouring out her richest melodies in the opera of lullaby inher own nursery. 

In the fall of 1888, as Ohio was about to hold a Constitutionalconvention, at the request of the suffrage association I wrote an appealto the women of the State to demand their right to vote for delegates tosuch convention. Mrs. Southworth had five thousand copies of my appealpublished and distributed at the exposition in Columbus. If tenrighteous men could save Sodom, all the brilliant women I met inCleveland should have saved Ohio from masculine domination. 

The winter of 1888-89 I was to spend with my daughter in Omaha. Ireached there in time to witness the celebration of the completion ofthe first bridge between that city and Council Bluffs. There was a grandprocession in which all the industries of both towns were represented, and which occupied six hours in passing. We had a desirable position forreviewing the pageant, and very pleasant company to interpret themottoes, symbols, and banners. The bridge practically brings the townstogether, as electric street cars now run from one to the other in tenminutes. Here, for the first time, I saw the cable cars running up hilland down without any visible means of locomotion. 

As the company ran an open car all winter, I took my daily ride of ninemiles in it for fifteen cents. My son Daniel, who escorted me, alwayssat inside the car, while I remained on an outside seat. He was greatlyamused with the remarks he heard about that "queer old lady that alwaysrode outside in all kinds of wintry weather. " One day someone remarkedloud enough for all to hear: "It is evident that woman does not knowenough to come in when it rains. " "Bless me!" said the conductor, whoknew me, "that woman knows as much as the Queen of England; too much tocome in here by a hot stove. " How little we understand the comparativeposition of those whom we often criticise. There I sat enjoying thebracing air, the pure fresh breezes, indifferent to the fate of an oldcloak and hood that had crossed the Atlantic and been saturated withsalt water many times, pitying the women inside breathing air laden withmicrobes that dozens of people had been throwing off from time to time, sacrificing themselves to their stylish bonnets, cloaks, and dresses, suffering with the heat of the red-hot stove; and yet they, in turn, pitying me. 

My seventy-third birthday I spent with my son Gerrit Smith Stanton, onhis farm near Portsmouth, Iowa. As we had not met in several years, ittook us a long time, in the network of life, to pick up all the stitchesthat had dropped since we parted. I amused myself darning stockings anddrawing plans for an addition to his house. But in the spring my son andhis wife came to the conclusion that they had had enough of the solitudeof farm life and turned their faces eastward. 

Soon after my return to Omaha, the editor of the _Woman's Tribune_, Mrs. Clara B. Colby, called and lunched with us one day. She announced thecoming State convention, at which I was expected "to make the bestspeech of my life. " She had all the arrangements to make, and invited meto drive round with her, in order that she might talk by the way. Sheengaged the Opera House, made arrangements at the Paxton House for areception, called on all her faithful coadjutors to arouse enthusiasm inthe work, and climbed up to the sanctums of the editors, --Democratic andRepublican alike, --asking them to advertise the convention and to say akind word for our oppressed class in our struggle for emancipation. Theyall promised favorable notices and comments, and they kept theirpromises. Mrs. Colby, being president of the Nebraska SuffrageAssociation, opened the meeting with an able speech, and presidedthroughout with tact and dignity. 

I came very near meeting with an unfortunate experience at thisconvention. The lady who escorted me in her carriage to the Opera Housecarried the manuscript of my speech, which I did not miss until it wasnearly time to speak, when I told a lady who sat by my side that ourfriend had forgotten to give me my manuscript. She went at once to herand asked for it. She remembered taking it, but what she had done withit she did not know. It was suggested that she might have dropped it inalighting from the carriage. And lo! they found it lying in the gutter. As the ground was frozen hard it was not even soiled. When I learned ofmy narrow escape, I trembled, for I had not prepared any train ofthought for extemporaneous use. I should have been obliged to talk whenmy turn came, and if inspired by the audience or the good angels, mighthave done well, or might have failed utterly. The moral of this episodeis, hold on to your manuscript. 

Owing to the illness of my son-in-law, Frank E. Lawrence, he and mydaughter went to California to see if the balmy air of San Diego wouldrestore his health, and so we gave up housekeeping in Omaha, and, onApril 20, 1889, in company with my eldest son I returned East and spentthe summer at Hempstead, Long Island, with my son Gerrit and his wife. 

We found Hempstead a quiet, old Dutch town, undisturbed by progressiveideas. Here I made the acquaintance of Chauncey C. Parsons and wife, formerly of Boston, who were liberal in their ideas on most questions. Mrs. Parsons and I attended one of the Seidl club meetings at ConeyIsland, where Seidl was then giving some popular concerts. The club wascomposed of two hundred women, to whom I spoke for an hour in the diningroom of the hotel. With the magnificent ocean views, the grand concerts, and the beautiful women, I passed two very charming days by the seaside. 

My son Henry had given me a phaeton, low and easy as a cradle, and Ienjoyed many drives about Long Island. We went to Bryant's home on thenorth side, several times, and in imagination I saw the old poet in thevarious shady nooks, inditing his lines of love and praise of nature inall her varying moods. Walking among the many colored, rustling leavesin the dark days of November, I could easily enter into his thought ashe penned these lines:

 "The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. "

In September, 1889, my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, came East toattend a school of physical culture, and my other daughter, Mrs. StantonBlatch, came from England to enjoy one of our bracing winters. Unfortunately we had rain instead of snow, and fogs instead of frost. However, we had a pleasant reunion at Hempstead. After a few days in andabout New York visiting friends, we went to Geneva and spent severalweeks in the home of my cousin, the daughter of Gerrit Smith. 

She and I have been most faithful, devoted friends all our lives, andregular correspondents for more than fifty years. In the family circlewe are ofttimes referred to as "Julius" and "Johnson. " These euphoniousnames originated in this way: When the Christy Minstrels first appeared, we went one evening to hear them. On returning home we amused ourseniors with, as they said, a capital rehearsal. The wit and philosopherof the occasion were called, respectively, Julius and Johnson; so wetook their parts and reproduced all the bright, humorous remarks theymade. The next morning as we appeared at the breakfast table, CousinGerrit Smith, in his deep, rich voice said: "Good-morning, Julius andJohnson, " and he kept it up the few days we were in Albany together. Oneafter another our relatives adopted the pseudonyms, and Mrs. Miller hasbeen "Julius" and I "Johnson" ever since. 

From Geneva we went to Buffalo, but, as I had a bad cold and a generalfeeling of depression, I decided to go to the Dansville Sanatorium andsee what Doctors James and Kate Jackson could do for me. I was there sixweeks and tried all the rubbings, pinchings, steamings; the Swedishmovements of the arms, hands, legs, feet; dieting, massage, electricity, and, though I succeeded in throwing off only five pounds of flesh, yet Ifelt like a new being. It is a charming place to be in--the home ispleasantly situated and the scenery very fine. The physicians are allgenial, and a cheerful atmosphere pervades the whole establishment. 

As Christmas was at hand, the women were all half crazy about presents, and while good Doctors James and Kate were doing all in their power tocure the nervous affections of their patients, they would thwart thetreatment by sitting in the parlor with the thermometer at seventy-twodegrees, embroidering all kinds of fancy patterns, --some on muslin, someon satin, and some with colored worsteds on canvas, --inhaling thepoisonous dyes, straining the optic nerves, counting threads andstitches, hour after hour, until utterly exhausted. I spoke to one poorvictim of the fallacy of Christmas presents, and of her injuring herhealth in such useless employment. "What can I do?" she replied, "I mustmake presents and cannot afford to buy them. " "Do you think, " said I, "any of your friends would enjoy a present you made at the risk of yourhealth? I do not think there is any 'must' in the matter. I never feelthat I must give presents, and never want any, especially from those whomake some sacrifice to give them. " This whole custom of presents atChristmas, New Year's, and at weddings has come to be a bore, a piece ofhypocrisy leading to no end of unhappiness. I do not know a more pitifulsight than to see a woman tatting, knitting, embroidering--working catson the toe of some slipper, or tulips on an apron. The amount of nervousforce that is expended in this way is enough to make angels weep. Thenecessary stitches to be taken in every household are quite enoughwithout adding fancy work. 

From Dansville my daughters and I went on to Washington to celebrate theseventieth birthday of Miss Anthony, who has always been to them as asecond mother. Mrs. Blatch made a speech at the celebration, and Mrs. Lawrence gave a recitation. First came a grand supper at the RiggsHouse. The dining room was beautifully decorated; in fact, Mr. And Mrs. Spofford spared no pains to make the occasion one long to be remembered. May Wright Sewall was the mistress of ceremonies. She read the toastsand called on the different speakers. Phoebe Couzins, Rev. Anna Shaw, Isabella Beecher Hooker, Matilda Joslyn Gage, Clara B. Colby, SenatorBlair of New Hampshire, and many others responded. I am ashamed to saythat we kept up the festivities till after two o'clock. Miss Anthony, dressed in dark velvet and point lace, spoke at the close with greatpathos. Those of us who were there will not soon forget February 15, 1890. 

After speaking before committees of the Senate and House, I gave theopening address at the annual convention. Mrs. Stanton Blatch spoke afew minutes on the suffrage movement in England, after which we hurriedoff to New York, and went on board the _Aller_, one of the North GermanLloyd steamers, bound for Southampton. At the ship we found CaptainMilinowski and his wife and two of my sons waiting our arrival. As wehad eighteen pieces of baggage it took Mrs. Blatch some time to reviewthem. My phaeton, which we decided to take, filled six boxes. An easycarriage for two persons is not common in England. The dogcarts prevail, the most uncomfortable vehicles one can possibly use. Why some of ourAmericans drive in those uncomfortable carts is a question. I think itis because they are "so English. " The only reason the English use themis because they are cheap. The tax on two wheels is one-half what it ison four, and in England all carriages are taxed. Before we Americansadopt fashions because they are English, we had better find out the_raison d'être_ for their existence. 

We had a very pleasant, smooth voyage, unusually so for blusteringFebruary and March. As I dislike close staterooms, I remained in theladies' saloon night and day, sleeping on a sofa. After a passage ofeleven days we landed at Southampton, March 2, 1890. It was a beautifulmoonlight night and we had a pleasant ride on the little tug to thewharf. We reached Basingstoke at eleven o'clock, found the family welland all things in order. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

MY LAST VISIT TO ENGLAND. 

As soon as we got our carriage put together Hattie and I drove out everyday, as the roads in England are in fine condition all the year round. We had lovely weather during the spring, but the summer was wet andcold. With reading, writing, going up to London, and receiving visitors, the months flew by without our accomplishing half the work we proposed. 

As my daughter was a member of the Albemarle Club, we invited severalfriends to dine with us there at different times. There we had a longtalk with Mr. Stead, the editor of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, on hisposition in regard to Russian affairs, "The Deceased Wife's SisterBill, " and the divorce laws of England. Mr. Stead is a fluent talker aswell as a good writer. He is the leader of the social purity movement inEngland. The wisdom of his course toward Sir Charles Dilke and Mr. Parnell was questioned by many; but there is a touch of the religiousfanatic in Mr. Stead, as in many of his followers. 

There were several problems in social ethics that deeply stirred theEnglish people in the year of our Lord 1890. One was Charles StewartParnell's platonic friendship with Mrs. O'Shea, and the other was theLord Chancellor's decision in the case of Mrs. Jackson. The pulpit, thepress, and the people vied with each other in trying to dethrone Mr. Parnell as the great Irish leader, but the united forces did not succeedin destroying his self-respect, nor in hounding him out of the BritishParliament, though, after a brave and protracted resistance on his part, they did succeed in hounding him into the grave. 

It was pitiful to see the Irish themselves, misled by a hypocriticalpopular sentiment in England, turn against their great leader, the onlyone they had had for half a century who was able to keep the Irishquestion uppermost in the House of Commons year after year. The courseof events since his death has proved the truth of what he told them, towit: that there was no sincerity in the interest English politiciansmanifested in the question of Home Rule, and that the debates on thatpoint would cease as soon as it was no longer forced on theirconsideration. And now when they have succeeded in killing their leader, they begin to realize their loss. The question evolved through theferment of social opinions was concisely stated, thus: "Can a man be agreat leader, a statesman, a general, an admiral, a learned chiefjustice, a trusted lawyer, or skillful physician, if he has ever brokenthe Seventh Commandment?"

I expressed my opinion in the _Westminster Review_, at the time, in theaffirmative. Mrs. Jacob Bright, Mrs. Ellen Battelle Dietrick of Boston, Kate Field, in her _Washington_, agreed with me. Many other women spokeout promptly in the negative, and with a bitterness against those whotook the opposite view that was lamentable. 

The Jackson case was a profitable study, as it brought out otherquestions of social ethics, as well as points of law which were ablysettled by the Lord Chancellor. It seems that immediately after Mr. AndMrs. Jackson were married, the groom was compelled to go to Australia. After two years he returned and claimed his bride, but in the intervalshe felt a growing aversion and determined not to live with him. As shewould not even see him, with the assistance of friends he kidnaped herone day as she was coming out of church, and carried her to his home, where he kept her under surveillance until her friends, with a writ of_habeas corpus_, compelled him to bring her into court. The popular idea"based on the common law of England, " was, that the husband had thisabsolute right. The lower court, in harmony with this idea, maintainedthe husband's right, and remanded her to his keeping, but the friendsappealed to the higher court and the Lord Chancellor reversed thedecision. 

With regard to the right so frequently claimed, giving husbands thepower to seize, imprison, and chastise their wives, he said: "I am ofthe opinion that no such right exists in law. I am of the opinion thatno such right ever did exist in law. I say that no English subject hasthe right to imprison another English subject, whether his wife or not. "Through this decision the wife walked out of the court a free woman. Thepassage of the Married Women's Property Bill in England in 1882 was thefirst blow at the old idea of coverture, giving to wives their rights ofproperty, the full benefit of which they are yet to realize whenclearer-minded men administer the laws. The decision of the LordChancellor, rendered March 18, 1891, declaratory of the personal rightsof married women, is a still more important blow by just so much as therights of person are more sacred than the rights of property. 

One hundred years ago, Lord Chief Justice Mansfield gave his famousdecision in the Somerset case, "That no slave could breathe on Britishsoil, " and the slave walked out of court a free man. The decision of theLord Chancellor, in the Jackson case, is far more important, moremomentous in its consequences, as it affects not only one race butone-half of the entire human family. From every point of view this isthe greatest legal decision of the century. Like the great Chief Justiceof the last century, the Lord Chancellor, with a clearer vision thanthose about him, rises into a purer atmosphere of thought, andvindicates the eternal principles of justice and the dignity of Britishlaw, by declaring all statutes that make wives the bond slaves of theirhusbands, obsolete. 

How long will it be in our Republic before some man will arise, greatenough to so interpret our National Constitution as to declare thatwomen, as citizens of the United States, cannot be governed by laws inthe making of which they have no part? It is not Constitutionalamendments nor statute laws we need, but judges on the bench of ourSupreme Court, who, in deciding great questions of human rights, shallbe governed by the broad principles of justice rather than precedent. One interesting feature in the trial of the Jackson case, was that bothLady Coleridge and the wife of the Lord Chancellor were seated on thebench, and evidently much pleased with the decision. 

It is difficult to account for the fact that, while women of the highestclasses in England take the deepest interest in politics and courtdecisions, American women of wealth and position are wholly indifferentto all public matters. While English women take an active part inelections, holding meetings and canvassing their districts, here, eventhe wives of judges, governors, and senators speak with bated breath ofpolitical movements, and seem to feel that a knowledge of laws andconstitutions would hopelessly unsex them. 

Toward the last of April, with my little granddaughter and her nurse, Iwent down to Bournemouth, one of the most charming watering places inEngland. We had rooms in the Cliff House with windows opening on thebalcony, where we had a grand view of the bay and could hear the wavesdashing on the shore. While Nora, with her spade and pail, played allday in the sands, digging trenches and filling them with water, I sat onthe balcony reading "Diana of the Crossways, " and Bjornson's last novel, "In God's Way, " both deeply interesting. As all the characters in thelatter come to a sad end, I could not see the significance of the title. If they walked in God's way their career should have been successful. 

I took my first airing along the beach in an invalid chair. These bathchairs are a great feature in all the watering places of England. Theyare drawn by a man or a donkey. The first day I took a man, an oldsailor, who talked incessantly of his adventures, stopping to rest everyfive minutes, dissipating all my pleasant reveries, and making anunendurable bore of himself. The next day I told the proprietor to getme a man who would not talk all the time. The man he supplied joggedalong in absolute silence; he would not even answer my questions. Supposing he had his orders to keep profound silence, after one or twoattempts I said nothing. When I returned home, the proprietor asked mehow I liked this man. "Ah!" I said, "he was indeed silent and would noteven answer a question nor go anywhere I told him; still I liked himbetter than the talkative man. " He laughed heartily and said: "This manis deaf and dumb. I thought I would make sure that you should not bebored. " I joined in the laugh and said: "Well, to-morrow get me a manwho can hear but cannot speak, if you can find one constructed on thatplan. "

Bournemouth is noteworthy now as the burial place of Mary Wolstonecraftand the Shelleys. I went to see the monument that had been recentlyreared to their memory. On one side is the following inscription:"William Godwin, author of 'Political Justice, ' born March 3rd, 1756, died April 7th, 1836. Mary Wolstonecraft Godwin, author of the'Vindication of the Rights of Women, ' born April 27th, 1759, diedSeptember 10th, 1797. " These remains were brought here, in 1851, fromthe churchyard of St. Pancras, London. On the other side are thefollowing inscriptions: "Mary Wolstonecraft Godwin, daughter of WilliamGodwin and widow of the late Percy Bysshe Shelley, born August 30th, 1797, died February 1st, 1851. Percy Florence Shelley, son of PercyShelley and Mary Wolstonecraft, third baronet, born November 12th, 1819, died December 5th, 1889. "In Christ's Church, six miles fromBournemouth, is a bas-relief in memory of the great poet. He isrepresented, dripping with seaweed, in the arms of the Angel of Death. 

As I sat on my balcony hour after hour, reading and thinking of theShelleys, watching the changing hues of the clouds and the beautifulbay, and listening to the sad monotone of the waves, these sweet linesof Whittier's came to my mind:

 "Its waves are kneeling on the strand, As kneels the human knee, -- Their white locks bowing to the sand, The priesthood of the sea!

 "The blue sky is the temple's arch, Its transept earth and air, The music of its starry march The chorus of a prayer. "

American letters, during this sojourn abroad, told of many losses, oneafter another, from our family circle; nine passed away within twoyears. The last was my sister Mrs. Bayard, who died in May, 1891. Shewas the oldest of our family, and had always been a second mother to heryounger sisters, and her house our second home. 

The last of June my son Theodore's wife and daughter came over fromFrance to spend a month with us. Lisette and Nora, about the same size, played and quarreled most amusingly together. They spent their morningsin the kindergarten school, and the afternoons with their pony, butrainy days I was impressed into their service to dress dolls and tellstories. I had the satisfaction to hear them say that their dolls werenever so prettily dressed before, and that my stories were better thanany in the books. As I composed the wonderful yarns as I went along, Iused to get very tired, and sometimes, when I heard the little feetcoming, I would hide, but they would hunt until they found me. When myyoungest son was ten years old and could read for himself, I graduatedin story telling, having practiced in that line twenty-one years. Ivowed that I would expend no more breath in that direction, but theeager face of a child asking for stories is too much for me, and my vowhas been often broken. All the time I was in England Nora claimed thetwilight hour, and, in France, Lisette was equally pertinacious. WhenVictor Hugo grew tired telling his grandchildren stories, he would windup with the story of an old gentleman who, after a few interestingexperiences, took up his evening paper and began to read aloud. Thechildren would listen a few moments and then, one by one, slip out ofthe room. Longfellow's old gentleman, after many exciting scenes in hiscareer, usually stretched himself on the lounge and feigned sleep. Butgrandmothers are not allowed to shelter themselves with such devices;they are required to spin on until the bedtime really arrives. 

On July 16, one of the hottest days of the season, Mrs. Jacob Bright anddaughter, Herbert Burroughs, and Mrs. Parkhurst came down from London, and we sat out of doors, taking our luncheon under the trees anddiscussing theosophy. Later in the month Hattie and I went to Yorkshireto visit Mr. And Mrs. Scatcherd at Morley Hall, and there spent severaldays. We had a prolonged discussion on personal rights. One side wasagainst all governmental interference, such as compulsory education andthe protection of children against cruel parents; the other side infavor of state interference that protected the individual in theenjoyment of life, liberty, and happiness. I took the latter position. Many parents are not fit to have the control of children, hence theState should see that they are sheltered, fed, clothed, and educated. Itis far better for the State to make good citizens of its children inthe beginning, than, in the end, to be compelled to care for them ascriminals. 

While in the north of England we spent a few days at Howard Castle, thesummer residence of Lord and Lady Carlisle and their ten children. Solarge a family in high life is unusual. As I had known Lord and LadyAmberley in America, when they visited this country in 1867, I enjoyedmeeting other members of their family. Lady Carlisle is in favor ofwoman suffrage and frequently speaks in public. She is a woman of greatforce of character, and of very generous impulses. She is trying to doher duty in sharing the good things of life with the needy. The poor formiles round often have picnics in her park, and large numbers ofchildren from manufacturing towns spend weeks with her cottage tenantsat her expense. Lord Carlisle is an artist and a student. As he has apoetical temperament and is aesthetic in all his tastes, Lady Carlisleis the business manager of the estate. She is a practical woman withimmense executive ability. The castle with its spacious dining hall anddrawing rooms, with its chapel, library, galleries of paintings andstatuary, its fine outlook, extensive gardens and lawns was well worthseeing. We enjoyed our visit very much and discussed every imaginablesubject. 

When we returned to Basingstoke we had a visit from Mrs. Cobb, the wifeof a member of Parliament, and sister-in-law of Karl Pearson, whoselectures on woman I had enjoyed so much. It was through reading hiswork, "The Ethic of Free Thought, " that the Matriarchate made such adeep impression on my mind and moved me to write a tract on the subject. People who have neither read nor thought on this point, question thefacts as stated by Bachofen, Morgan, and Wilkeson; but their truth, Ithink, cannot be questioned. They seem so natural in the chain ofreasoning and the progress of human development. Mrs. Cobb did a verygood thing a few days before visiting us. At a great meeting called topromote Mr. Cobb's election, John Morley spoke. He did not even say"Ladies and gentlemen" in starting, nor make the slightest reference tothe existence of such beings as women. When he had finished, Mrs. Cobbarose mid great cheering and criticised his speech, making somequotations from his former speeches of a very liberal nature. Theaudience laughed and cheered, fully enjoying the rebuke. The next day inhis speech he remembered his countrywomen, and on rising said, "Ladiesand gentlemen. "

During August, 1891, I was busy getting ready for my voyage, as I was tosail on the _Ems_ on August 23. Although I had crossed the ocean sixtimes in the prior ten years I dreaded the voyage more than words candescribe. The last days were filled with sadness, in parting with thoseso dear to me in foreign countries--especially those curly-headed littlegirls, so bright, so pretty, so winning in all their ways. Hattie andTheodore went with me from Southampton in the little tug to the greatship _Ems_. It was very hard for us to say the last farewell, but we alltried to be as brave as possible. 

We had a rough voyage, but I was not seasick one moment. I was up anddressed early in the morning, and on deck whenever the weatherpermitted. I made many pleasant acquaintances with whom I played chessand whist; wrote letters to all my foreign friends, ready to mail onlanding; read the "Egotist, " by George Meredith, and Ibsen's plays astranslated by my friend Frances Lord. I had my own private stewardess, anice German woman who could speak English. She gave me most of my mealson deck or in the ladies' saloon, and at night she would open theporthole two or three times and air our stateroom; that made the nightsendurable. The last evening before landing we got up an entertainmentwith songs, recitations, readings, and speeches. I was invited topreside and introduce the various performers. We reached Sandy Hook theevening of the 29th day of August and lay there all night, and the nextmorning we sailed up our beautiful harbor, brilliant with the rays ofthe rising sun. 

Being fortunate in having children in both hemispheres, here, too, Ifound a son and daughter waiting to welcome me to my native land. Ourchief business for many weeks was searching for an inviting apartmentwhere my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, my youngest son, Bob, and Icould set up our family altar and sing our new psalm of life together. After much weary searching we found an apartment. Having always lived ina large house in the country, the quarters seemed rather contracted atfirst, but I soon realized the immense saving in labor and expense inhaving no more room than is absolutely necessary, and all on one floor. To be transported from the street to your apartment in an elevator inhalf a minute, to have all your food and fuel sent to your kitchen by anelevator in the rear, to have your rooms all warmed with no effort ofyour own, seemed like a realization of some fairy dream. With anextensive outlook of the heavens above, of the Park and the Boulevardbeneath, I had a feeling of freedom, and with a short flight of stairsto the roof (an easy escape in case of fire), of safety, too. 

No sooner was I fully established in my eyrie, than I was summoned toRochester, by my friend Miss Anthony, to fill an appointment she hadmade for me with Miss Adelaide Johnson, the artist from Washington, whowas to idealize Miss Anthony and myself in marble for the World's Fair. I found my friend demurely seated in her mother's rocking-chair hemmingtable linen and towels for her new home, anon bargaining with butchers, bakers, and grocers, making cakes and puddings, talking with enthusiasmof palatable dishes and the beauties of various articles of furniturethat different friends had presented her. All there was to remind one ofthe "Napoleon of the Suffrage Movement" was a large escritoire coveredwith documents in the usual state of confusion--Miss Anthony never couldkeep her papers in order. In search of any particular document she rootsout every drawer and pigeon hole, although her mother's little spinningwheel stands right beside her desk, a constant reminder of all thedomestic virtues of the good housewife, with whom "order" is of theutmost importance and "heaven's first law. " The house was exquisitelyclean and orderly, the food appetizing, the conversation pleasant andprofitable, and the atmosphere genial. 

A room in an adjoining house was assigned to Miss Johnson and myself, where a strong pedestal and huge mass of clay greeted us. And there, fornearly a month, I watched the transformation of that clay into humanproportions and expressions, until it gradually emerged with thefamiliar facial outlines ever so dear to one's self. Sitting there fouror five hours every day I used to get very sleepy, so my artistarranged for a series of little naps. When she saw the crisis coming shewould say: "I will work now for a time on the ear, the nose, or thehair, as you must be wide awake when I am trying to catch theexpression. " I rewarded her for her patience and indulgence by summoningup, when awake, the most intelligent and radiant expression that I couldcommand. As Miss Johnson is a charming, cultured woman, with liberalideas and brilliant in conversation, she readily drew out all that wasbest in me. 

Before I left Rochester, Miss Anthony and her sister Mary gave areception to me at their house. As some of the professors and trusteesof the Rochester University were there, the question of co-education wasfreely discussed, and the authorities urged to open the doors of theUniversity to the daughters of the people. It was rather aggravating tocontemplate those fine buildings and grounds, while every girl in thatcity must go abroad for higher education. The wife of President Hill ofthe University had just presented him with twins, a girl and a boy, andhe facetiously remarked, "that if the Creator could risk placing sexesin such near relations, he thought they might with safety walk on thesame campus and pursue the same curriculum together. "

Miss Anthony and I went to Geneva the next day to visit Mrs. Miller andto meet, by appointment, Mrs. Eliza Osborne, the niece of Lucretia Mott, and eldest daughter of Martha C. Wright. We anticipated a merry meeting, but Miss Anthony and I were so tired that we no doubt appeared stupid. In a letter to Mrs. Miller afterward, Mrs. Osborne inquired why I was"so solemn. " As I pride myself on being impervious to fatigue ordisease, I could not own up to any disability, so I turned the tables onher in the following letter:

 "New York, 26 West 61st Street, November 12, 1891. 

 "Dear Eliza:

 "In a recent letter to Mrs. Miller, speaking of the time when we last met, you say, 'Why was Mrs. Stanton so solemn?' to which I reply: Ever since an old German emperor issued an edict, ordering all the women under that flag to knit when walking on the highway, when selling apples in the market place, when sitting in the parks, because 'to keep women out of mischief their hands must be busy, ' ever since I read that, I have felt 'solemn' whenever I have seen any daughters of our grand Republic knitting, tatting, embroidering, or occupied with any of the ten thousand digital absurdities that fill so large a place in the lives of Eve's daughters. 

 "Looking forward to the scintillations of wit, the philosophical researches, the historical traditions, the scientific discoveries, the astronomical explorations, the mysteries of theosophy, palmistry, mental science, the revelations of the unknown world where angels and devils do congregate, looking forward to discussions of all these grand themes, in meeting the eldest daughter of David and Martha Wright, the niece of Lucretia Mott, the sister-in-law of William Lloyd Garrison, a queenly-looking woman five feet eight in height, and well proportioned, with glorious black eyes, rivaling even De Staël's in power and pathos, one can readily imagine the disappointment I experienced when such a woman pulled a cotton wash rag from her pocket and forthwith began to knit with bowed head. Fixing her eyes and concentrating her thoughts on a rag one foot square; it was impossible for conversation to rise above the wash-rag level! It was enough to make the most aged optimist 'solemn' to see such a wreck of glorious womanhood. 

 "And, still worse, she not only knit steadily, hour after hour, but she bestowed the sweetest words of encouragement on a young girl from the Pacific Coast, who was embroidering rosebuds on another rag, the very girl I had endeavored to rescue from the maelstrom of embroidery, by showing her the unspeakable folly of giving her optic nerves to such base uses, when they were designed by the Creator to explore the planetary world, with chart and compass to guide mighty ships across the sea, to lead the sons of Adam with divinest love from earth to heaven. Think of the great beseeching optic nerves and muscles by which we express our admiration of all that is good and glorious in earth and heaven, being concentrated on a cotton wash rag! Who can wonder that I was 'solemn' that day! I made my agonized protest on the spot, but it fell unheeded, and with satisfied sneer Eliza knit on, and the young Californian continued making the rosebuds. I gazed into space, and, when alone, wept for my degenerate countrywoman. I not only was 'solemn' that day, but I am profoundly 'solemn' whenever I think of that queenly woman and that cotton wash rag. (One can buy a whole dozen of these useful appliances, with red borders and fringed, for twenty-five cents. ) Oh, Eliza, I beseech you, knit no more!

 "Affectionately yours, "Elizabeth Cady Stanton. "

To this Mrs. Osborne sent the following reply:

 "Dear Mrs. Stanton:

 "In your skit Against your sisterhood who knit, Or useful make their fingers, I wonder if--deny it not-- The habit of Lucretia Mott Within your memory lingers!

 "In retrospective vision bright, Can you recall dear Martha Wright Without her work or knitting? The needles flying in her hands, On washing rags or baby's bands, Or other work as fitting?

 "I cannot think they thought the less, Or ceased the company to bless With conversation's riches, Because they thus improved their time, And never deemed it was a crime To fill the hours with stitches. 

 "They even used to preach and plan To spread the fashion, so that man Might have this satisfaction; Instead of idling as men do, With nervous meddling fingers too, Why not mate talk with action?

 "But as a daughter and a niece, I pride myself on every piece Of handiwork created; While reveling in social chat, Or listening to gossip flat, My gain is unabated. 

 "That German emperor you scorn, Seems to my mind a monarch born, Worthy to lead a column; I'll warrant he could talk and work, And, neither being used to shirk, Was rarely very solemn. 

 "I could say more upon this head, But must, before I go to bed. Your idle precepts mocking, Get out my needle and my yarn And, caring not a single darn. Just finish up this stocking. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CLASS OF 1832--THE WOMAN'S BIBLE. 

I returned from Geneva to New York city in time to celebrate myseventy-sixth birthday with my children. I had traveled about constantlyfor the last twenty years in France, England, and my own country, andhad so many friends and correspondents, and pressing invitations tospeak in clubs and conventions, that now I decided to turn over a newleaf and rest in an easy-chair. But so complete a change in one's lifecould not be easily accomplished. In spite of my resolution to abide inseclusion, my daughter and I were induced to join the Botta Club, whichwas to meet once a month, alternately, at the residences of Mrs. MoncureD. Conway and Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson. Though composed of ladies andgentlemen it proved dull and unprofitable. As the subject for discussionwas not announced until each meeting, no one was prepared with anywell-digested train of thought. It was also decided to avoid allquestions about which there might be grave differences of opinion. Thisnegative position reminded me of a book on etiquette which I read in myyoung days, in which gentlemen were warned, "In the presence of ladiesdiscuss neither politics, religion, nor social duties, but confineyourself to art, poetry, and abstract questions which women cannotunderstand. The less they know of a subject the more respectfully theywill listen. " This club was named in honor of Mrs. Botta, formerly MissAnne Lynch, whose drawing room for many years was the social center ofthe literati of New York. 

On January 16, 1892, we held the Annual Suffrage Convention inWashington, and, as usual, had a hearing before the CongressionalCommittee. My speech on the "Solitude of Self" was well received and waspublished in the Congressional Record. The _Woman's Tribune_ struck offmany hundreds of copies and it was extensively circulated. 

Notwithstanding my determination to rest, I spoke to many clubs, wrotearticles for papers and magazines, and two important leaflets, one on"Street Cleaning, " another on "Opening the Chicago Exposition onSunday. " As Sunday was the only day the masses could visit thatmagnificent scene, with its great lake, extensive park, artificialcanals, and beautiful buildings, I strongly advocated its being open onthat day. One hundred thousand religious bigots petitioned Congress tomake no appropriation for this magnificent Exposition, unless themanagers pledged themselves to close the gates on Sunday, and hide thisvision of beauty from the common people. Fortunately, this time a senseof justice outweighed religious bigotry. I sent my leaflets to everymember of Congress and of the State legislatures, and to the managers ofthe Exposition, and made it a topic of conversation at everyopportunity. The park and parts of the Exposition were kept open onSunday, but some of the machinery was stopped as a concession to narrowChristian sects. 

In June, 1892, at the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Russell Sage, Iattended the dedication of the Gurley Memorial Building, presented tothe Emma Willard Seminary, at Troy, New York, and made the followingaddress:

 "MRS. PRESIDENT, MEMBERS OF THE ALUMNAE:

 "It is just sixty years since the class of '32, to which I belonged, celebrated a commencement in this same room. This was the great event of the season to many families throughout this State. Parents came from all quarters; the _élite_ of Troy and Albany assembled here. Principals from other schools, distinguished legislators, and clergymen all came to hear girls scan Latin verse, solve problems in Euclid, and read their own compositions in a promiscuous assemblage. A long line of teachers anxiously waited the calling of their classes, and over all, our queenly Madame Willard presided with royal grace and dignity. Two hundred girls in gala attire, white dresses, bright sashes, and coral ornaments, with their curly hair, rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes, flitted to and fro, some rejoicing that they had passed through their ordeal, some still on the tiptoe of expectation, some laughing, some in tears--altogether a most beautiful and interesting picture. 

 "Conservatives then, as now, thought the result of the higher education of girls would be to destroy their delicacy and refinement. But as the graduates of the Troy Seminary were never distinguished in after life for the lack of these feminine virtues, the most timid, even, gradually accepted the situation and trusted their daughters with Mrs. Willard. But that noble woman endured for a long period the same ridicule and persecution that women now do who take an onward step in the march of progress. 

 "I see around me none of the familiar faces that greeted my coming or said farewell in parting. I do not know that one of my classmates still lives. Friendship with those I knew and loved best lasted but a few years, then our ways in life parted. I should not know where to find one now, and if I did, probably our ideas would differ on every subject, as I have wandered in latitudes beyond the prescribed sphere of women. I suppose it is much the same with many of you--the familiar faces are all gone, gone to the land of shadows, and I hope of sunshine too, where we in turn will soon follow. "And yet, though we who are left are strangers to one another, we have the same memories of the past, of the same type of mischievous girls and staid teachers, though with different names. The same long, bare halls and stairs, the recitation rooms with the same old blackboards and lumps of chalk taken for generation after generation, I suppose, from the same pit; the dining room, with its pillars inconveniently near some of the tables, with its thick, white crockery and black-handled knives, and viands that never suited us, because, forsooth, we had boxes of delicacies from home, or we had been out to the baker's or confectioner's and bought pies and cocoanut cakes, candy and chewing gum, all forbidden, but that added to the relish. There, too, were the music rooms, with their old, second-hand pianos, some with rattling keys and tinny sound, on which we were supposed to play our scales and exercises for an hour, though we often slyly indulged in the 'Russian March, ' 'Napoleon Crossing the Rhine, ' or our national airs, when, as slyly, Mr. Powell, our music teacher, a bumptious Englishman, would softly open the door and say in a stern voice, 'Please practice the lesson I just gave you!'

 "Our chief delight was to break the rules, but we did not like to be caught at it. As we were forbidden to talk with our neighbors in study hours, I frequently climbed on top of my bureau to talk through a pipe hole with a daughter of Judge Howell of Canandaigua. We often met afterward, laughed and talked over the old days, and kept our friendship bright until the day of her death. Once while rooming with Harriet Hudson, a sister of Mrs. John Willard, I was moved to a very erratic performance. Miss Theresa Lee had rung the bell for retiring, and had taken her rounds, as usual, to see that the lights were out and all was still, when I peeped out of my door, and seeing the bell at the head of the stairs nearby, I gave it one kick and away it went rolling and ringing to the bottom. The halls were instantly filled with teachers and scholars, all in white robes, asking what was the matter. Harriet and I ran around questioning the rest, and what a frolic we had, helter-skelter, up and down stairs, in each other's rooms, pulling the beds to pieces, changing girls' clothes from one room to another, etc. , etc. The hall lamps, dimly burning, gave us just light enough for all manner of depredations without our being recognized, hence the unbounded latitude we all felt for mischief. In our whole seminary course--and I was there nearly three years--we never had such a frolic as that night. It took all the teachers to restore order and quiet us down again for the night. No suspicion of any irregularities were ever attached to Harriet and myself. Our standing for scholarship was good, hence we were supposed to reflect all the moralities. 

 "Though strangers, we have a bond of union in all these memories, of our bright companions, our good teachers, who took us through the pitfalls of logic, rhetoric, philosophy, and the sciences, and of the noble woman who founded the institution, and whose unselfish devotion in the cause of education we are here to celebrate. The name of Emma Willard is dear to all of us; to know her was to love and venerate her. She was not only good and gifted, but she was a beautiful woman. She had a finely developed figure, well-shaped head, classic features, most genial manners, and a profound self-respect (a rare quality in woman), that gave her a dignity truly royal in every position. Traveling in the Old World she was noticed everywhere as a distinguished personage. And all these gifts she dedicated to the earnest purpose of her life, the higher education of women. 

 "In opening this seminary she could not find young women capable of teaching the higher branches, hence her first necessity was to train herself. Amos B. Eaton, who was the principal of the Rensselaer Polytechnic School for boys here in Troy, told me Mrs. Willard studied with him every branch he was capable of teaching, and trained a corps of teachers and regular scholars at the same time. She took lessons of the Professor every evening when he had leisure, and studied half the night the branches she was to teach the next day, thus keeping ahead of her classes. Her intense earnestness and mental grasp, the readiness with which she turned from one subject to another, and her retentive memory of every rule and fact he gave her, was a constant surprise to the Professor. 

 "All her vacation she devoted to training teachers. She was the first to suggest the normal-school system. Remembering her deep interest in the education of women, we can honor her in no more worthy manner than to carry on her special lifework. As we look around at all the educated women assembled here to-day and try to estimate what each has done in her own sphere of action, the schools founded, the teachers sent forth, the inspiration given to girls in general, through the long chain of influences started by our alma mater, we can form some light estimate of the momentous and far-reaching consequences of Emma Willard's life. We have not her difficulties to overcome, her trials to endure, but the imperative duty is laid on each of us to finish the work she so successfully began. Schools and colleges of a high order are now everywhere open to women, public sentiment welcomes them to whatever career they may desire, and our work is to help worthy girls struggling for a higher education, by founding scholarships in desirable institutions in every State in the Union. The most fitting tribute we can pay to Emma Willard is to aid in the production of a generation of thoroughly educated women. 

 "There are two kinds of scholarships, equally desirable; a permanent one, where the interest of a fund from year to year will support a succession of students, and a temporary one, to help some worthy individual as she may require. Someone has suggested that this association should help young girls in their primary education. But as our public schools possess all the advantages for a thorough education in the rudiments of learning and are free to all, our scholarships should be bestowed on those whose ability and earnestness in the primary department have been proved, and whose capacity for a higher education is fully shown. 

 "This is the best work women of wealth can do, and I hope in the future they will endow scholarships for their own sex instead of giving millions of dollars to institutions for boys, as they have done in the past. After all the bequests women have made to Harvard see how niggardly that institution, in its 'annex, ' treats their daughters. I once asked a wealthy lady to give a few thousands of dollars to start a medical college and hospital for women in New York. She said before making bequests she always consulted her minister and her Bible. He told her there was nothing said in the Bible about colleges for women. I said, 'Tell him he is mistaken. If he will turn to 2 'Chron. Xxxiv. 22, he will find that when Josiah, the king, sent the wise men to consult Huldah, the prophetess, about the book of laws discovered in the temple, they found Huldah in the college in Jerusalem, thoroughly well informed on questions of state, while Shallum, her husband, was keeper of the robes. I suppose his business was to sew on the royal buttons. ' But in spite of this Scriptural authority, the rich lady gave thirty thousand dollars to Princeton and never one cent for the education of her own sex. 

 "Of all the voices to which these walls have echoed for over half a century, how few remain to tell the story of the early days, and when we part, how few of us will ever meet again; but I know we shall carry with us some new inspiration for the work that still remains for us to do. Though many of us are old in years, we may still be young in heart. Women trained to concentrate all their thoughts on family life are apt to think--when their children are grown up, their loved ones gone, their servants trained to keep the domestic machinery in motion--that their work in life is done, that no one needs now their thought and care, quite forgetting that the hey-day of woman's life is on the shady side of fifty, when the vital forces heretofore expended in other ways are garnered in the brain, when their thoughts and sentiments flow out in broader channels, when philanthropy takes the place of family selfishness, and when from the depths of poverty and suffering the wail of humanity grows as pathetic to their ears as once was the cry of their own children. 

 "Or, perhaps, the pressing cares of family life ended, the woman may awake to some slumbering genius in herself for art, science, or literature, with which to gild the sunset of her life. Longfellow's beautiful poem, 'Morituri Salutamus, ' written for a similar occasion to this, is full of hope and promise for all of us. He says:

 "'Something remains for us to do or dare; Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear. Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles Wrote his grand Oedipus, and Simonides Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers, When each had numbered more than four-score years. And Theophrastus, at three-score and ten, Had but begun his Characters of Men; Chaucer, at Woodstock with the nightingales, At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales; Goethe at Weimar, toiling to the last, Completed Faust when eighty years were past. These are indeed exceptions; but they show How far the gulf-stream of our youth may flow Into the Arctic regions of our lives, Where little else than life itself survives. For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. '"

On December 21, 1892, we celebrated, for the first time, "Foremothers'Day. " Men had celebrated "Forefathers' Day" for many years, but as womenwere never invited to join in their festivities, Mrs. Devereux Blakeintroduced the custom of women having a dinner in celebration of thatday. Mrs. Isabella Beecher Hooker spent two days with me, and togetherwe attended the feast and made speeches. This custom is now annuallyobserved, and gentlemen sit in the gallery just as ladies had done onsimilar occasions. 

My son Theodore arrived from France in April, 1893, to attend theChicago Exposition, and spent most of the summer with me at Glen Cove, Long Island, where my son Gerrit and his wife were domiciled. Here weread Captain Charles King's stories of life at military posts, Sanborn's"Biography of Bronson Alcott, " and Lecky's "History of Rationalism. "

Here I visited Charles A. Dana, the Nestor of journalism, and hischarming family. He lived on a beautiful island near Glen Cove. Hisrefined, artistic taste, shown in his city residence in paintings, statuary, and rare bric-a-brac, collected in his frequent travels in theOld World, displayed itself in his island home in the arrangement of anendless variety of trees, shrubs, and flowers, through which you caughtglimpses of the Sound and distant shores. One seldom meets so gifted aman as the late editor of the _Sun_. He was a scholar, speaking severallanguages; an able writer and orator, and a most genial companion in thesocial circle. His wife and daughter are cultivated women. The name ofthis daughter, Zoe Dana Underhill, often appears in our popularmagazines as the author of short stories, remarkable for their vividdescriptions. 

I met Mr. Dana for the first time at the Brook Farm Community in 1843, in that brilliant circle of Boston transcendentalists, who hoped in afew years to transform our selfish, competitive civilization into aParadise where all the altruistic virtues might make co-operationpossible. But alas! the material at hand was not sufficiently plasticfor that higher ideal. In due time the community dissolved and themembers returned to their ancestral spheres. Margaret Fuller, who was afrequent visitor there, betook herself to matrimony in sunny Italy, William Henry Channing to the Church, Bronson Alcott to the education ofthe young, Frank Cabot to the world of work, Mr. And Mrs. Ripley toliterature, and Charles A. Dana to the press. Mr. Dana was veryfortunate in his family relations. His wife, Miss Eunice MacDaniel, andher relatives sympathized with him in all his most liberal opinions. During the summer at Glen Cove I had the pleasure of several longconversations with Miss Frances L. MacDaniel and her brother Osborne, whose wife is the sister of Mr. Dana, and who is now assisting MissPrestona Mann in trying an experiment, similar to the one at Brook Farm, in the Adirondacks. 

Miss Anthony spent a week with us in Glen Cove. She came to stir me upto write papers for every Congress at the Exposition, which I did, andshe read them in the different Congresses, adding her own strong wordsat the close. Mrs. Russell Sage also came and spent a day with us tourge me to write a paper to be read at Chicago at the Emma WillardReunion, which I did. A few days afterward Theodore and I returned hervisit. We enjoyed a few hours' conversation with Mr Sage, who had madea very generous gift of a building to the Emma Willard Seminary atTroy. This school was one of the first established (1820) for girls inour State, and received an appropriation from the New York legislatureon the recommendation of the Governor, De Witt Clinton. Mr. Sage gave usa description that night of the time his office was blown up withdynamite thrown by a crank, and of his narrow escape. We found the greatfinancier and his wife in an unpretending cottage with a fine outlook onthe sea. Though possessed of great wealth they set a good example ofsimplicity and economy, which many extravagant people would do well tofollow. 

Having visited the World's Exposition at Chicago and attended a courseof lectures at Chautauqua, my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, returnedto the city, and as soon as our apartment was in order I joined her. Shehad recently been appointed Director of Physical Training at theTeachers' College in New York city. I attended several of herexhibitions and lectures, which were very interesting. She is doing herbest to develop, with proper exercises and sanitary dress, a new type ofwomanhood. 

My time passed pleasantly these days with a drive in the Park and anhour in the land of Nod, also in reading Henry George's "Progress andPoverty, " William Morris on industrial questions, Stevenson's novels, the "Heavenly Twins, " and "Marcella, " and at twilight, when I could notsee to read and write, in playing and singing the old tunes and songs Iloved in my youth. In the evening we played draughts and chess. I amfond of all games, also of music and novels, hence the days fly swiftlyby; I am never lonely, life is ever very sweet to me and full ofinterest. 

The winter of 1893-94 was full of excitement, as the citizens of NewYork were to hold a Constitutional Convention. Dr. Mary Putnam Jacobiendeavored to rouse a new class of men and women to action in favor ofan amendment granting to women the right to vote. Appeals were sentthroughout the State, gatherings were held in parlors, and enthusiasticmeetings in Cooper Institute and at the Savoy Hotel. My daughter, Mrs. Stanton Blatch, who was visiting this country, took an active part inthe canvass, and made an eloquent speech in Cooper Institute. Strange tosay, some of the leading ladies formed a strong party against theproposed amendment and their own enfranchisement. They were called the"Antis. " This opposing organization adopted the same plan for thecampaign as those in favor of the amendment. They issued appeals, circulated petitions, and had hearings before the Convention. 

Mrs. Russell Sage, Mrs. Henry M. Sanders, Mrs. Edward Lauterbach, Mrs. Runkle, and some liberal clergymen did their uttermost to secure theinsertion of the amendment in the proposed new constitution, but theCommittee on Suffrage of the Constitutional Convention refused even tosubmit the proposed amendment to a vote of the people, though half amillion of our most intelligent and respectable citizens had signed thepetition requesting them to do so. Joseph H. Choate and Elihu Root didtheir uttermost to defeat the amendment, and succeeded. 

I spent the summer of 1894 with my son Gerrit, in his home at Thomaston, Long Island. Balzac's novels, and the "Life of Thomas Paine" by MoncureD. Conway, with the monthly magazines and daily papers, were my mentalpabulum. My daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, returned from England inSeptember, 1894, having had a pleasant visit with her sister inBasingstoke. In December Miss Anthony came, and we wrote the womansuffrage article for the new edition of Johnson's Cyclopedia. 

On March 3, 1895, Lady Somerset and Miss Frances Willard, on the eve oftheir departure for England, called to see me. We discussed my projectof a "Woman's Bible. " They consented to join a revising committee, butbefore the committee was organized they withdrew their names, fearingthe work would be too radical. I especially desired to have the opinionsof women from all sects, but those belonging to the orthodox churchesdeclined to join the committee or express their views. Perhaps theyfeared their faith might be disturbed by the strong light ofinvestigation. Some half dozen members of the Revising Committee beganwith me to write "Comments on the Pentateuch. "

The chief thought revolving in my mind during the years of 1894 and 1895had been "The Woman's Bible. " In talking with friends I began to feelthat I might realize my long-cherished plan. Accordingly, I began toread the commentators on the Bible and was surprised to see how littlethey had to say about the greatest factor in civilization, the mother ofthe race, and that little by no means complimentary. The more I read, the more keenly I felt the importance of convincing women that theHebrew mythology had no special claim to a higher origin than that ofthe Greeks, being far less attractive in style and less refined insentiment. Its objectionable features would long ago have been apparenthad they not been glossed over with a faith in their divine inspiration. For several months I devoted all my time to Biblical criticism andecclesiastical history, and found no explanation for the degraded statusof women under all religions, and in all the so-called "Holy Books. "

When Part I. Of "The Woman's Bible" was finally published in November, 1895, it created a great sensation. Some of the New York city papersgave a page to its review, with pictures of the commentators, of itscritics, and even of the book itself. The clergy denounced it as thework of Satan, though it really was the work of Ellen Battelle Dietrick, Lillie Devereux Blake, Rev. Phebe A. Hanaford, Clara Bewick Colby, Ursula N. Gestefeld, Louisa Southworth, Frances Ellen Burr, and myself. Extracts from it, and criticisms of the commentators, were printed inthe newspapers throughout America, Great Britain, and Europe. A thirdedition was found necessary, and finally an edition was published inEngland. The Revising Committee was enlarged, and it now consists ofover thirty of the leading women of America and Europe. [A]

The month of August, 1895, we spent in Peterboro, on the grand hills ofMadison County, nine hundred feet above the valley. Gerrit Smith's fineold mansion still stands, surrounded with magnificent trees, where I hadplayed in childhood, chasing squirrels over lawn and gardens and wadingin a modest stream that still creeps slowly round the grounds. Irecalled as I sat on the piazza how one time, when Frederick Douglasscame to spend a few days at Peterboro, some Southern visitors wrote anote to Mr. Smith asking if Mr. Douglass was to sit in the parlor and atthe dining table; if so, during his visit they would remain in theirown apartments. Mr. Smith replied that his visitors were always treatedby his family as equals, and such would be the case with Mr. Douglass, who was considered one of the ablest men reared under "The SouthernInstitution. " So these ladies had their meals in their own apartments, where they stayed most of the time, and, as Mr. Douglass prolonged hisvisit, they no doubt wished in their hearts that they had never takenthat silly position. The rest of us walked about with him, arm in arm, played games, and sang songs together, he playing the accompaniment onthe guitar. I suppose if our prejudiced countrywomen had been introducedto Dumas in a French salon, they would at once have donned their bonnetsand ran away. 

Sitting alone under the trees I recalled the different generations thathad passed away, all known to me. Here I had met the grandfather, PeterSken Smith, partner of John Jacob Astor. In their bargains with theIndians they acquired immense tracts of land in the Northern part of theState of New York, which were the nucleus of their large fortunes. Ihave often heard Cousin Gerrit complain of the time he lost managing theestate. His son Greene was an enthusiast in the natural sciences andtook but little interest in property matters. Later, his grandson, Gerrit Smith Miller, assumed the burden of managing the estate and, inaddition, devoted himself to agriculture. He imported a fine breed ofHolstein cattle, which have taken the first prize at several fairs. Hisson, bearing the same name, is devoted to the natural sciences, like hisuncle Greene; whose fine collection of birds was presented by his widowto Harvard College. 

The only daughter of Gerrit Smith, Elizabeth Smith Miller, is aremarkable woman, possessing many of the traits of her noble father. Shehas rare executive ability, as shown in the dispatch of her extensivecorrespondence and in the perfect order of her house and grounds. Shehas done much in the way of education, especially for the colored race, in helping to establish schools and in distributing literature. Shesubscribes for many of the best books, periodicals, and papers forfriends not able to purchase for themselves. We cannot estimate the goodshe has done in this way. Every mail brings her letters from allclasses, from charitable institutions, prisons, Southern plantations, army posts, and the far-off prairies. To all these pleas for help shegives a listening ear. Her charities are varied and boundless, and herhospitalities to the poor as well as the rich, courteous and generous. The refinement and artistic taste of the Southern mother and the heroicvirtues of the father are happily blended in their daughter. In herbeautiful home on Seneca Lake, one is always sure to meet some of themost charming representatives of the progressive thought of our times. Representatives of all these generations now rest in the cemetery atPeterboro, and as in review they passed before me they seemed to say, "Why linger you here alone so long?"

My son Theodore arrived from Paris in September, 1895, and rendered mostimportant service during the preparations for my birthday celebration, in answering letters, talking with reporters, and making valuablesuggestions to the managers as to many details in the arrangements, andencouraging me to go through the ordeal with my usual heroism. I neverfelt so nervous in my life, and so unfitted for the part I was in dutybound to perform. From much speaking through many years my voice washoarse, from a severe fall I was quite lame, and as standing, anddistinct speaking are important to graceful oratory, I felt like theking's daughter in Shakespeare's play of "Titus Andronicus, " when rudemen who had cut her hands off and her tongue out, told her to call forwater and wash her hands. However, I lived through the ordeal, as thereader will see in the next chapter. 

After my birthday celebration, the next occasion of deep interest to mewas the Chicago Convention of 1896, the platform there adopted, and thenomination and brilliant campaign of William J. Bryan. I had long beenrevolving in my mind questions relating to the tariff and finance, andin the demands of liberal democrats, populists, socialists, and thelaboring men and women, I heard the clarion notes of the comingrevolution. 

During the winter of 1895-96 I was busy writing alternately on thisautobiography and "The Woman's Bible, " and articles for magazines andjournals on every possible subject from Venezuela and Cuba to thebicycle. On the latter subject many timid souls were greatly distressed. Should women ride? What should they wear? What are "God's intentions"concerning them? Should they ride on Sunday? These questions were askedwith all seriousness. We had a symposium on these points in one of thedaily papers. To me the answer to all these questions was simple--ifwoman could ride, it was evidently "God's intention" that she bepermitted to do so. As to what she should wear, she must decide what isbest adapted to her comfort and convenience. Those who prefer a spin ofa few hours on a good road in the open air to a close church and a dullsermon, surely have the right to choose, whether with trees and flowersand singing birds to worship in "That temple not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, " or within four walls to sleep during theintonation of that melancholy service that relegates us all, withoutdistinction of sex or color, to the ranks of "miserable sinners. " Leteach one do what seemeth right in her own eyes, provided she does notencroach on the rights of others. 

In May, 1896, I again went to Geneva and found the bicycle craze hadreached there, with all its most pronounced symptoms; old and young, professors, clergymen, and ladies of fashion were all spinning merrilyaround on business errands, social calls, and excursions to distanttowns. Driving down the avenue one day, we counted eighty bicyclesbefore reaching the post-office. The ancient bandbox, so detested by oursires and sons, has given place to this new machine which our daughterstake with them wheresoever they go, boxing and unboxing and readjustingfor each journey. It has been a great blessing to our girls incompelling them to cultivate their self-reliance and their mechanicalingenuity, as they are often compelled to mend the wheel in case ofaccident. Among the visitors at Geneva were Mr. Douglass and hisdaughter from the island of Cuba. They gave us very sad accounts of thedesolate state of the island and the impoverished condition of thepeople. I had long felt that the United States should interfere in someway to end that cruel warfare, for Spain has proved that she isincompetent to restore order and peace. 

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: Part II. Of "The Woman's Bible, " which completes the work, will be issued in January, 1898. ]

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MY EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY. 

Without my knowledge or consent, my lifelong friend, Susan B. Anthony, who always seems to appreciate homage tendered to me more highly thaneven to herself, made arrangements for the celebration of my eightiethbirthday, on the 12th day of November, 1895. She preferred that thiscelebration should be conducted by the National Council of Women, composed of a large number of organizations representing everydepartment of woman's labor, though, as the enfranchisement of woman hadbeen my special life work, it would have been more appropriate if thecelebration had been under the auspices of the National Woman's SuffrageAssociation. 

Mrs. Mary Lowe Dickinson, President of the National Council of Women, assumed the financial responsibility and the extensive correspondenceinvolved, and with rare tact, perseverance, and executive ability madethe celebration a complete success. In describing this occasion I cannotdo better than to reproduce, in part, Mrs. Dickinson's account, published in _The Arena_:

"In the month of June, 1895, the National Council of Women issued thefollowing invitation:

"'Believing that the progress made by women in the last half century maybe promoted by a more general notice of their achievements, we proposeto hold, in New York city, a convention for this purpose. As anappropriate time for such a celebration, the eightieth birthday ofElizabeth Cady Stanton has been chosen. Her half century of pioneer workfor the rights of women makes her name an inspiration for such anoccasion and her life a fitting object for the homage of all women. 

"'This National Council is composed of twenty organizations; these andall other societies interested are invited to co-operate in gratefulrecognition of the debt the present generation owes to the pioneers ofthe past. From their interest in the enfranchisement of women, theinfluence of Mrs. Stanton and her coadjutor, Miss Anthony, has permeatedall departments of progress and made them a common center round whichall interested in woman's higher development may gather. '

"To this invitation came responses, from the Old World and the New, expressing sympathy with the proposed celebration, which was intended toemphasize a great principle by showing the loftiness of character thathad resulted from its embodiment in a unique personality. The worldnaturally thinks of the personality before it thinks of the principle. It has, at least, so much unconscious courtesy left as to honor a noblewoman, even when failing to rightly apprehend a noble cause. To affordthis feeling its proper expression, to render more tangible all vaguesympathy, to crystallize the growing sentiment in favor of humanfreedom, to give youth the opportunity to reverence the glory of age, togive hearts their utterances in word and song was perhaps the mostpopular purpose of the reunion. In other words, it gave an opportunityfor those who revered Mrs. Stanton as a queen among women to show theirreverence, and to recognize the work her life had wrought, and to see init an epitome of the progress of a century. 

"The celebration was also an illustration of the distinctive idea of theNational Council of Women, which aims to give recognition to all humaneffort without demanding uniformity of opinion as a basis ofco-operation. It claims to act upon a unity of service, notwithstandingdifferences of creed and methods. The things that separate, shrank backinto the shadows where they belong, and all hearts brave enough tothink, and tender enough to feel, found it easy to unite in homage to alife which had known a half century of struggle to lift humanity frombondage and womanhood from shame. 

"This reunion was the first general recognition of the debt the presentowes to the past. It was the first effort to show the extent to whichlater development has been inspired and made possible by the freedom tothink and work claimed in that earlier time by women like Lucretia Mott, Lucy Stone, Mrs. Stanton, and many others whose names stand as synonymsof noble service for the race. To those who looked at the reunion fromthis point of view it could not fail of inspiration. 

"For the followers in lines of philanthropic work to look in the facesand hear the voices of women like Clara Barton and Mary Livermore; forthe multitude enlisted in the crowded ranks of literature to feel in theliving presence, what literature owes to women like Julia Ward Howe; forthe white ribbon army to turn from its one great leader of to-day whoselight, spreading to the horizon, does not obscure or dim the glory ofthe crusade leaders of the past; for art lovers and art students tocall to mind sculptors like Harriet Hosmer and Anna Whitney, andremember the days when art was a sealed book to women; for the followersof the truly divine art of healing to honor the Blackwell sisters andthe memory of Mme. Clemence Lozier; for the mercy of surgery to revealitself in the face of Dr. Cushier, who has proved for us that heart ofpity and hand of skill need never be divorced; for women lifting theireyes to meet the face of Phebe A. Hanaford and Anna Shaw and other womenwho to-day in the pulpit, as well as out of it, may use a woman's rightto minister to needy souls; for the ofttime sufferers from unrighteouslaw to welcome women lawyers; for the throng of working women to readbackward through the story of four hundred industries to their beginningin the 'four, ' and remember that each new door had opened because somewomen toiled and strove; for all these the exercises were a part of agreat thanksgiving paean, each phase of progress striking its own chord, and finding each its echo in the hearts that held it dear. 

"To the student of history, or to him who can read the signs of thetimes, there was such a profound significance in this occasion as makesone shrink from dwelling too much upon the external details. Yet as apageant only it was a most inspiring sight, and one truly worthy of aqueen. Indeed as we run the mind back over the pages of history, whatqueen came to a more triumphant throne in the hearts of a gratefulpeople? What woman ever before sat silver-crowned, canopied withflowers, surrounded not by servile followers but by men and women whobrought to her court the grandest service they had wrought, their bestthought crystallized in speech and song. Greater than any triumphalprocession that ever marked a royal passage through a kingdom was it toknow that in a score or more of cities, in many a village church on thatsame night festive fires were lighted, and the throng kept holiday, bringing for tribute not gold and gems but noblest aspirations, truestgratitude, and highest ideals for the nation and the race. 

"The great meeting was but one link in a chain; yet with its thousandsof welcoming faces, with its eloquence of words, with its offering ofsweetest song from the children of a race that once was bound but now isfree, with its pictured glimpses of the old time and the new flashingout upon the night, with the home voices offering welcome and gratitudeand love, with numberless greetings, from the great, true, brave soulsof many lands, it was indeed a wonderful tribute, worthy of the greatwarm heart of a nation that offered it, and worthy of the woman sorevered. 

"It seemed fitting that Mme. Antoinette Sterling, who, twenty years ago, took her wonderful voice away to England, where it won for her a uniqueplace in the hearts of the nation, should, on returning to her country, give her first service to the womanhood of her native land. 'I am cominga week earlier, ' so she had written, 'that my first work in my ownbeloved America may be done for women. I am coming as a woman and not asan artist, and because I so glory in that which the women of my countryhave achieved. ' So when she sang out of her heart, 'O rest in the Lord;wait patiently for him!' no marvel that it seemed to lift all listeninghearts to a recognition of the divine secret and source of power for allwork. 

"One charming feature of the entertainment was a series of picturescalled 'Then and Now, ' each illustrating the change in woman's conditionduring the last fifty years. And after this, upon the dimness thereshone out, one after another, the names of noble women like Mary Lyon, Maria Mitchell, Emma Willard, and many others who have passed away. Uponthe shadows and the silence broke Mme. Sterling's voice in Tennyson's'Crossing the Bar. ' And when this was over, as with one voice, the wholeaudience sang softly 'Auld Lang Syne. '

"And last but not least should be mentioned the greetings that poured ina shower of telegrams and letters from every section of the country, andmany from over the sea. These expressions, not only of personalcongratulation for Mrs. Stanton, but utterances of gladness for theprogress in woman's life and thought, for the conditions, already somuch better than in the past, and for the hope for the future, wouldmake of themselves a most interesting and wonderful chapter. Among themmay be mentioned letters from Lord and Lady Aberdeen, from Lady HenrySomerset and Frances E. Willard, from Canon Wilberforce, and manyothers, including an address from thirty members of the family of JohnBright, headed by his brother, the Right Honorable Jacob Bright; abeautifully engrossed address, on parchment, from the National WomanSuffrage Society of Scotland, an address from the London Women'sFranchise League, and a cablegram from the Bristol Women's LiberalAssociation; a letter from the Women's Rights Society of Finland, signedby its president, Baroness Gripenberg of Helsingfors; telegrams from theCalifornia Suffrage Pioneers; and others from the Chicago Woman's Club, from the Toledo and Ohio Woman's Suffrage Society, from the son of theRev. Dr. William Ellery Channing, and a telegram and letter fromcitizens and societies of Seneca Falls, New York, accompanied withflowers and many handsome pieces of silver from the different societies. There were also letters from Hon. Oscar S. Strauss, ex-minister toTurkey, Miss Ellen Terry, and scores of others. An address was receivedfrom the Women's Association of Utah, accompanied by a beautiful onyxand silver ballot box; and from the Shaker women of Mount Lebanon camean ode; a solid silver loving cup from the New York City SuffrageLeague, presented on the platform with a few appropriate words by itsPresident, Mrs. Devereux Blake. 

"Hundreds of organizations and societies, both in this country andabroad, wished to have their names placed on record as in sympathy withthe movement. Many organizations were present in a body, and one wasreminded, by the variety and beauty of the decorations of their boxes, of the Venetian Carnival, as the occupants gazed down from amid thesilken banners and the flowers, upon the throng below. The wholeoccasion was indeed a unique festival, unique in its presentation, aswell as in its purpose, plan, character, and spirit. No woman presentcould fail to be impressed with what we owe to the women of the past, and especially to this one woman who was the honored guest of theoccasion. And no young woman could desire to forget the picture of thisaged form as, leaning upon her staff, Mrs. Stanton spoke to the greataudience of over six thousand, as she had spoken hundreds of timesbefore in legislative halls, and whenever her word could influence thepopular sentiment in favor of justice for all mankind. "

My birthday celebration, with all the testimonials of love andfriendship I received, was an occasion of such serious thought and deepfeeling as I had never before experienced. Having been accustomed forhalf a century to blame rather than praise, I was surprised with such amanifestation of approval; I could endure any amount of severe criticismwith complacency, but such an outpouring of homage and affection stirredme profoundly. To calm myself during that week of excitement, I thoughtmany times of Michelet's wise motto, "Let the weal and woe of humanitybe everything to you, their praise and blame of no effect; be not puffedup with the one nor cast down with the other. "

Naturally at such a time I reviewed my life, its march and battle on thehighways of experience, and counted its defeats and victories. Iremembered when a few women called the first convention to discuss theirdisabilities, that our conservative friends said: "You have made a greatmistake, you will be laughed at from Maine to Texas and beyond the sea;God has set the bounds of woman's sphere and she should be satisfiedwith her position. " Their prophecy was more than realized; we wereunsparingly ridiculed by the press and pulpit both in England andAmerica. But now many conventions are held each year in both countriesto discuss the same ideas; social customs have changed; laws have beenmodified; municipal suffrage has been granted to women in England andsome of her colonies; school suffrage has been granted to women in halfof our States, municipal suffrage in Kansas, and full suffrage in fourStates of the Union. Thus the principle scouted in 1848 was accepted inEngland in 1870, and since then, year by year, it has slowly progressedin America until the fourth star shone out on our flag in 1896, andIdaho enfranchised her women! That first convention, considered a "gravemistake" in 1848, is now referred to as "a grand step in progress. "

My next mistake was when, as president of the New York State Woman'sTemperance Association, I demanded the passage of a statute allowingwives an absolute divorce for the brutality and intemperance of theirhusbands. I addressed the Legislature of New York a few years later whena similar bill was pending, and also large audiences in several of ourchief cities, and for this I was severely denounced. To-day fugitivesfrom such unholy ties can secure freedom in many of the Western States, and enlightened public sentiment sustains mothers in refusing to handdown an appetite fraught with so many evil consequences. This, alsocalled a "mistake" in 1860, was regarded as a "step in progress" a fewyears later. 

Again, I urged my coadjutors by speeches, letters, and resolutions, as ameans of widespread agitation, to make the same demands of the Churchthat we had already made of the State. They objected, saying, "That istoo revolutionary, an attack on the Church would injure the suffragemovement. " But I steadily made the demand, as opportunity offered, thatwomen be ordained to preach the Gospel and to fill the offices aselders, deacons, and trustees. A few years later some of thesesuggestions were accepted. Some churches did ordain women as pastorsover congregations of their own, others elected women deaconesses, and afew churches allowed women, as delegates, to sit in their conferences. Thus this demand was in a measure honored and another "step inprogress" taken. 

In 1882 I tried to organize a committee to consider the status of womenin the Bible, and the claim that the Hebrew Writings were the result ofdivine inspiration. It was thought very presumptuous for women notlearned in languages and ecclesiastical history to undertake such work. But as we merely proposed to comment on what was said of women in plainEnglish, and found these texts composed only one-tenth of the Old andNew Testaments, it did not seem to me a difficult or dangerousundertaking. However, when Part I. Of "The Woman's Bible" was published, again there was a general disapproval by press and pulpit, and even bywomen themselves, expressed in resolutions in suffrage and temperanceconventions. Like other "mistakes, " this too, in due time, will beregarded as "a step in progress. "

Such experiences have given me confidence in my judgment, and patiencewith the opposition of my coadjutors, with whom on so many points Idisagree. It requires no courage now to demand the right of suffrage, temperance legislation, liberal divorce laws, or for women to fillchurch offices--these battles have been fought and won and the principlegoverning these demands conceded. But it still requires courage toquestion the divine inspiration of the Hebrew Writings as to theposition of woman. Why should the myths, fables, and allegories of theHebrews be held more sacred than those of the Assyrians and Egyptians, from whose literature most of them were derived? Seeing that thereligious superstitions of women perpetuate their bondage more than allother adverse influences, I feel impelled to reiterate my demands forjustice, liberty, and equality in the Church as well as in the State. 

The birthday celebration was to me more than a beautiful pageant; morethan a personal tribute. It was the dawn of a new day for the Mothers ofthe Race! The harmonious co-operation of so many differentorganizations, with divers interests and opinions, in one grand jubileewas, indeed, a heavenly vision of peace and hope; a prophecy that withthe exaltation of Womanhood would come new Life, Light, and Liberty toall mankind. 

INDEX OF NAMES. 

 * * * * *Aberdeen, _Lord_ and _Lady_, Addington, Laura, Albert, _Prince_, Alcott, A. Bronson, Alcott, Louisa M. , Allison, Miss, Amberly, _Lord_ and _Lady_, Ames, Mary Clemmer, Anderson, Dr. Garrett, André, _Major_ John, Andrews, _Governor_ John A. , Anthony, Daniel, Anthony, _Senator_ Henry B. , Anthony, Lucy, Anthony, Mary, Anthony, Susan B. , Arnold, _General_ Benedict, Arnold, Matthew, Astor, John Jacob, Auchet, Hubertine, Austin, _Dr_. Harriet N. , Ayer, Mrs. J. C. , Backus, Wealthea, Bagley, _Governor_, Bagley, Mrs. , Baird, _General_, Baldwin, Elizabeth McMartin, Balgarnie, Miss, Banning, Ella B. , Banning, William L. , Barclay, Cornelia, Barrau, Caroline de, Bartlett, Paul, Barton, Clara, Bascom, Mr. , Bascora, Mary, Bayard, _Dr_. Edward, Bayard, Henry, Bayard, Thomas F. , Bayard, Tryphena Cady, Beach, Myron, Beaman, _Rev. Dr_. , Becker, Lydia, Beecher, Catharine, Beecher, _Rev_. Henry Ward, Bellamy, Edward, Bellows, Rev. Henry, Benedict, Lewis, Bently, _Judge_, Berry, Mme. , Berry, Marguerite, Berry, Mrs. , Bertaux, Mme. Léon, Besant, Annie, Bickerdyke, _Mother_, Biddle, Chapman, Biddle, George, Biggs, Caroline, Bigelow, John, Bigelow, Mrs. John, Bingham, John A. , Bird, Frank W. , Birney, James Gr. , Bjornson, Bjornstjorne, Blackburn, Miss, Blackwell, Antoinette Brown, Blackwell, _Dr_. Elizabeth, Blackwell, H. B. , Blaine, _Senator_ James G. , Blaine, Mrs. James G. , Blair, _Senator_ Henry W. , Blake, Lillie Devereux, Blatch, Harriot Stanton, Blatch, Nora Stanton, Blatch, William H. , Blavatsky, Mme. , Bloomer, Amelia, Bogelot, Isabella, Bogue, _Rev. Dr_. , Bonaparte, Napoleon, Botta, Anne Lynch, Boucherett, Jessie, Bowles, Samuel, Bradburn, George, Bradlaugh, _Hon_. Charles, M, P. , Bradwell, Myra, Bright, _Hon_. Jacob, M. P. , Bright, Mrs. Jacob, Bright, _Hon_. John, M. P. , Broomall, John M. , Brougham, Henry, Lord, Brown, Antoinette L. , Brown, John, Brown, Olympia, Brown, Mr. , Browne, Sir Thomas, M. D. , Browning, Robert, Brownson, Orestes A. , Bryan, William J. . Bryant, Miss, Bryant, William Cullen, Bullard, Laura Curtis, Burlingame, Anson, Burleigh, Celia, Burleigh, Mrs. William, Burnet, Rev. J. , Burr, Frances Ellen, Burroughs, Herbert, Busbey, L. White, Bushnell, Horace, Butler, General Benjamin F. , Butler, Josephine, Byron, Lady, Byron, Lord, Cabot, Frederick, Cady, Judge Daniel, Cady, Eleazer, Cady, Margaret Livingston, Caird, Mona, Cameron, Judge Hugh, Carlisle, Lora and Lady, Carlyle, Thomas, Carnegie, Andrew, Carroll, Anna, Cary, Alice, Cary, Phoebe, Channing, Rev. Dr. William Ellery, Channing, Dr. William F. , Channing, Rev. William Henry, Chant, Ormiston, Chapman, Maria, Chase, William, Cheever, Rev. George B. , Child, Lydia Maria, Choate, Joseph H. , Christie, Margaret, Clark, Helen Bright, Clarkson, Thomas, Cleveland, Grover, Clinton, Governor De Witt C, Cluseret, General, Cobb, Mr. And Mrs. , Cobbe, Frances Power, Cobden, Jane, Cochrane, James, Cochrane, _General_ John, Cochrane, Mary, Colby, Clara B. , Cole, Senator Cornelius, Coleridge, Lady, Collyer, Rev. Robert, Combe, Andrew, Comte, Auguste, Conkling, Judge Alfred, Conkling, Roscoe, Conway, Rev. Moncure D. , Conway, Mrs. Moncure D. , Cooley, Judge Thomas M. , Couzins, Phoebe W. , Croly, Jennie C, Crowninshield, Captain A. S. , Crowninshield, Mary, Cox, S. S. , Coxe, Bishop, Curtis, George William, Cushier, Dr. , Cushman, Charlotte, Dana, Charles A. , Dana, Eunice MacDaniel, Darling, Anna B. , Darlington, Chandler, Darlington, Hannah, Davis, Edward M. , Davis. Paulina Wright, Davitt, Michael. Depesyrons, Professor, Deraismes, Mme. Féresse, Deraismes, Maria, Dickinson, Anna E. , Dickinson, Mary Lowe, Dietrick, Ellen Battelle, Dilke, Mrs. Ashton, Dilke, Sir Charles, Dix, Dorothy, L. , Dix, General John A. , Douglass, Frederick, Douglass, Mr. , Dowden, Professor, Dudley, Blandina Bleecker, Dumas, Alexandre, Durand, Mme. M. E. , Dyer, Charles Gifford, Dyer, Hella, Eaton, Professor Amos B. , Eaton, Daniel C, Eaton, Harriet Cady, Eddy, Miss, Eddy, Mrs. Jackson, sEdmunds, Senator George F. , Eliot, George, Euet, Elizabeth F. , Ellsler, Fanny, Elmy, Mrs. , Emerson, Ralph Waldo, England, Isaac W. , England, Mrs. Isaac W. , Everett, Charles, Fabre, Senator Joseph, Fairchild, Governor Lucius, Faithful, Emily, Farnham, Mrs. . Fawcett, Henry, M. P. , Fawcett, Milicent J. , Ferry, Jules, Ferry, Senator Thomas W. , Field, Rev. Dr. Henry M. , Field, Kate, Fine, Judge, Finney, Rev. Charles G. , Fitzhugh, Ann Carroll, Fitzhugh, Miss, Folsom, Abigail, Forbes, Arethusa, Forney, John W. , Foster, Abby Kelly, Foster, Rachel, Foster, Stephen, Frederic, Harold, Fremont, _General_ John C, French, Daniel C, Frothingham, _Rev_. O. B. , Fronde, James Anthony, Fry, Elizabeth, Fuller, Kate, Fuller, Margaret, Fuller, W. J. A. , Furness, _Rev_. William H. , Gage, Frances Dana, Gage, Matilda Joslyn, Gardener, Helen H. , Garibaldi, _General_ G. , Garrison, Gertrude, Garrison, William Lloyd, Garrison, Mrs. W. L. , Gay, Sidney Howard, Geddes, Mr. , George, Henry, Gestefeld, Ursula N. , Gibbons, Abby Hopper, Gillespie, Mrs. , Gladstone, _Right Hon_. , William E. , Gladstone, Mrs. W. E. , Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft, Godwin, William, Grant, _General_, Ulysses S. , Greeley, Horace, Greeley, Mrs. Horace, Greene, Beriah, Greenough, Mrs. W. H. , Greenwood, Grace, Gréville, Henri, Grévy, _President_ Jules, Grévy, Mme. Jules, Grew, Mary, Grey, Maria G. , Grimké, Angelina, Grimké, Sarah, Gripenberg, _Baroness_ Alexandra, Gurney, John Joseph, Gurney, Samuel, Gustafsen, Mrs. , Hammond, _Dr_. William A. , Hanaford, _Rev_. Phebe A. , Harbert, Elizabeth Boynton, Harberton, _Lady_, Harvey, _Rev_. A. , Hawley, _General_ Joseph R. , Hawthorne, Nathaniel, Hazeltine, Mayo W. , Heine, Heinrich, Hertell, _Judge_Hertz, Fannie, Hicks, Elias, Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, Hill, Octavia, Hill, _President_, Hinckley, _Rev_. Frederick A. , Hoar, _Senator_ George F. , Hoggan, _Dr_. Frances E. , Hoisington, Rev. William, Holmes, Oliver Wendell, Hooker, Isabella Beecher, Holyoake, George Jacob, Hosack, _Rev_. Simon, Hoskins, Frances, Hosmer, Harriet, Hovey, Charles, Howe, Julia Ward, Howell, _Judge_, Howell, Mary Seymour, Howells, William D. , Howells, Mrs. William D. , Howitt, Mary, Hudson, Harriet, Hugo, Victor, Hunt, Jane, Hunt, _Dr_. Harriet K. , Hunt, _Judge_ Ward, Hunt, Richard, Hurlbert, _Judge_, Huron, Mr. , Hutchinson, _Family_, Hutchins, Mr. , Hyacinthe, _Père_, Ingersoll, Robert G. , Jackson, Francis, Jackson, _Dr_. James, Jackson, _Dr_. Kate, Jackson, Mr. And Mrs. , Jackson, Mrs. , Jacobi, _Dr_. Mary Putnam, Jameson, Anna, Janes, _Bishop_, Jarvis, Helen, Jenckes, Thomas A. , Jenkins, Lydia, Jenney, Mr. And Mrs. , Johnson, Adelaide, Johnson, Mariana, Johnson, Oliver, Johnson, _Sir_ William, Joly, _Professor_ Nicholas, Jones, Phoebe, June, Jennie, Kelley, William D. , Kelley, Abby, Kennan, George, Kent, _Chancellor_, Kergomard, Pauline, Kilpatrick, _General_, Kimber, Abby, King, _Captain_ Charles, Kingsford, Anna, Kingsley, _Canon_ Charles, Klumpke, Anna, Krapotkine, _Prince_, Laboulaye, Edouard R. L. , LaFayette, _Marquis_ de, Lampson, _Father_, Lapham, Anson, Lauterbach, Mrs. Edward, Lawrence, Frank E. , Lawrence, Margaret Stanton, Lawson, _Sir_ Wilfrid, Leavitt, Joshua, Lecky, W. E. H. , Lee, Richard Henry, Lee, Theresa, Lieneff, Mr. , Lincoln, Abraham, Livermore, Mary A. , Livingston, Colonel James, Livingston, Margaret, Livingston, Mary, Logan, Olive, Long, Governor John D. , Longfellow, Henry W. , Longfellow, Rev. Samuel, Lord, Dr. , Lord, Emily, Lord, Frances, Louis Philippe, Lowell, James Russell, Lozier, Dr. Clemence S. , Lucas, Margaret Bright, Lyon, Mary, McClintock, Elizabeth, McClintock, Mary Ann, McKeon, Judge, McLaren, Charles, McLaren, Mrs. Charles, McLaren, Hon. Duncan, M. P. , McLaren, Priscilla Bright, McLaren, Walter, McMartin, Donald, McMartin, Duncan, McMartin, Margaret Cady, MacDaniel, Eunice, MacDaniel, Frances L. , MacDaniel, Osborne, Macaulay, Thomas Babbington, Maire, Rev. Hugh, Mann, Horace, Mann, Prestona, Mansfield, Lord Chief Justice, Mansfield, Mrs. A. A. , Marsh, Luther R. , Martineau, Harriet, Massey, Gerald, May, Rev. Samuel J. , Mellen, Mrs. William, Mendenhall, Dinah, Meredith, George, Michel, Louise, Michelet, Jules, Milinowski, Captain Arthur, Mill, John Stuart, Mill, Mrs. John Stuart, Miller, Charles Dudley, Miller, Colonel, Miller, Elizabeth Smith, Miller, Gerrit Smith, Miller, Jenness, Miller, John B. , Miller, Judge, Miller, Justice Samuel F. , Minor, Virginia L. , Mitchell, Dr. Julia, Mitchell, Dr. Kate, Mitchell, Professor Maria, Moffett, Rev. Dr. , Moliner, Professor, Morley, John, Morpeth, Lord, Morris, William, Morrison, Cotton, Morsier, Emilie de, Morton, Edwin, Mott, Lucretia, Mott, Lydia, Moulton, Louise Chandler, Moulton, Mrs. , Müller, Eva, Müller, Henrietta, Murray, Eliza, in, Napoleon, Neal, Elizabeth, Nichol, Elizabeth Pease, O'Connell, Daniel, go, O'Conor, Charles, Olmstead, Rev. John W. , Olmstead, Mary Livingston, Opie, Amelia, Orr, Mrs. , Osborne, Eliza W. , O'Shea, Mrs. Kitty, Owen, Robert Dale, Palmer, Senator John M. , Parker, Margaret, Parker, Theodore, Parkhurst, Mrs. , Parnell, Charles Stewart, Parsons, Chauncey C, Parsons, Mrs. Chauncey C, Patton, Rev. Dr. , Peabody, Elizabeth, Pearson, Karl, Pease, Elizabeth, Phelps, Elizabeth B. , Phillips, Ann Green, Phillips, Wendell, Pierpont, John, Pillsbury, Parker, Plumb, Senator Preston B. , Pochin, Mrs. , Pomeroy, "Brick, "Powell, Aaron, Powell, Professor, Priestman, Annie, Priestman, Mary, Pugh, Sarah, Quincy, Edmund, Ramsey, Mr. , Reid, Mrs. Hugo, Remond, Charles, Richer, Léon, Richter, Jean Paul Friedrich, Ripley, George, Ripley, Mrs. George, Richardson, Abby Sage, Ristori, Marchionesse Adelaide, Robinson, Governor Charles, Roby, Matilda, Rogers, Caroline Gilkey, Rogers, Nathaniel P. , Roland, Mme. , Rosa, Mr. , Rose, Ernestine L. , Root, Elihu, Rouvier, M. , Runkle, Mrs. , Ruskin, John, Sackett, Fudge Gerrit V. , Sage, Russell, Sage, Mrs. Russell, Sanborn, Frank, Sanders, Mrs. Henry M. , Sargent, Senator Aaron A. , Sargent, Mrs. Aaron A. , Saville, Mrs. , Scatcherd, Alice Cliff, Scatcherd, Mr. , Schenck, Elizabeth B. , Schenck, Robert C, Scoble, Rev. John, Seaman, Mr. , Seidl, Professor, Sewall, May Wright, Sewall, Samuel E. , Sewall, Mrs. Samuel E. , Seward, Governor William H. , Seward, Mrs. William H. , Shaftesbury, Lord, Shaw, Rev. Anna, Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Shelley, Percy Florence, Smalley, George W. , Smith, Ann Carroll Fitzhugh, Smith, Elizabeth Oakes, Smith, Gerrit, Smith, Greene, Smith, Professor Horace, Smith, Mrs. Horace, Smith, Peter Sken, Smith, Sidney, Smith, Sisters, Somerset, Lady Henry, Southwick, Abby, Southwick, Joseph, Southwick. Thankful, Southworth, Louisa, Spaulding, Bishop, Spence, Clara, Spencer, John C, Spencer, Sarah Andrews, Spofford, Jane Snow, Spofford, Mr. , Sprague, Governor William, Staël, Mme. De, Stanford, Senator Leland, Stanley, Dean, Stansfeld, Mr. , M. P. , Stanton, Hon. Daniel Cady, Stanton, Edwin M. , Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, Granddaughter of author, Stanton, _Hon_. Gerrit Smith, Stanton, Harriot Eaton, Stanton, Henry, Stanton, _Hon_. Henry Brewster, Stanton, Margaret Livingston, Stanton, Marguerite Berry, Stanton, Robert Livingston, Stanton, Theodore, Stead, William T. , Stebbins, Catharine F. , Stebbins, Giles, Stebbins, Mrs. , Steinthal, _Rev_. Mr. , Stepniak, Sterling, Antoinette, Stevens, Thaddeus, Stevenson, Robert Louis, Stewart, Alvin, Stone, Lucy, Stout, _Rev_. C. , Stowe, Harriet Beecher, Straus, Oscar S. , Stuart, Charles, Stuart, _Dr_. Jacob H. , Stuart, Mrs. Jacob H. , Stuart, _Professor_, Sturge, Joseph, Sumner, Charles, Sutherland, _Duchess_ of, Swift, Isabella, Swift, _Lieutenant_, Tanner, Mrs. , Taylor, Helen, Taylor, Mrs. Peter A. , Terry, Ellen, Thacher, _Mayor_, Thomson, Adeline, Thomasson, _Hon_. John P. , _M. P_. , Thomasson, Mrs. John P. , Thompkins, _Governor_ Daniel D. , Thompson, George, Thompson, May Wright, Tilton, Theodore, Train, George Francis, Traut, Mme. Griess, Tree, Ellen, Tudor, Mrs. Fenno, Tyler, _Professor_, Moses Coit, Tyng, _Dr_. Stephen, Underhill, Zoe Dana, Van Vechten, Abraham, Vest, _Senator_ George G. , Victoria, _Queen_, Vignon, Claude, Villard, Fanny Garrison, Villard, Henry, Vincent, Henry, Virchow, _Professor_, Waite, _Chief Justice_ Morrison R. , Walter, Ellen Cochrane, Walsingham, _Sir_ Francis, "Warrington, "Washington, _General_ George, Weed, Thurlow, Weld, Angelina Grimke, Weld, Theodore D. , Wellington, _Duke_ of, Wells, Emeline B. , West, Benjamin, Weston, Deborah, Whipple, E. P. , Whitney, Anna, Whittier, John G. , Whittle, _Dr. _ Ewing, Wigham, Eliza, Wigham, Jane, Wilberforce, Canon, Wilberforce, William, Wilbour, Charlotte Beebe, Wilkeson, Catherine Cady, Wilkeson, Samuel, Willard, Amelia, Willard, Emma, Willard, Frances E. , Willard, Mrs. John, Williams, _Senator_ C. G. , Williams, Elisha, Wilson, Daniel, Winckworth, Mr. And Mrs. Stephen, Winslow, Emily, Woodhull, Victoria, Wollstonecraft, Mary, Woodward, Mr. , Worden, Mrs. , Wright, David, Wright, Frances, Wright, Henry C. , Wright, Martha C. , Wright, Mr. , Wright, Paulina, Yost, Elizabeth W. , Yost, Maria, Zackesewska, _Dr. _ M. E. , [_Portions of Chapters X. And XI. Of this book are taken by permissionfrom an article written by Mrs. Stanton for "Our Famous Women, "published by A. D. Worthington & Co. _]