THE WOMAN'S CAUSE
1868-1910
Women who weave in hope the daily web,
Who leave the deadly depths of passion pure,
Who hold the stormy powers of will attent,
As Heaven directs, to act, or to endure;
No multitude strews branches in their way,
Not in their praise the loud arena strives;
Still as a flameless incense rises up
The costly patience of their offered lives.
J. W. H.
We have seen that after the Doctor's death our mother felt that another
chapter of life had begun for her. It was a changed world without that
great and dominant personality. She missed the strength on which she had
leaned for so many years, the weakness which through the past months she
had tended and cherished. Henceforth she must lead, not follow; must be
captain instead of mate.
In another sense, the new life had actually begun for her some years
before, when she first took up public activities; to those activities
she now turned the more ardently for the great void that was left in
heart and home. We must now go back to the later sixties, and speak of
her special interests at that time.
Looking back over her long life, we see her in three aspects, those of
the student, the artist, the reformer. First came youth, with its ardent
study; then maturity, with its output of poems, plays, essays. So far
she had followed the natural course of creative minds, which must absorb
and assimilate in order that they may give out. It is in the third phase
that we find the aspect of her later life, a clear vision of the needs
of humanity, and a profound hospitality which made it imperative for her
to give with both hands not only what she had inherited, but what she
had earned. Having enjoyed unusual advantages herself, the moment she
saw the way to give other women these advantages, she was eager to "help
the woman-standard new unfurled."
In the first number of the "Woman's Journal," of which she was one of
the founders and first editors, she writes (January 8, 1870):--
"We who stand beside the cradle of this enterprise are not young in
years. Our children are speedily preparing to take our place in the
ranks of society. Some of us have been looking thoughtfully toward the
final summons, not because of ill health or infirmity, but because,
after the establishment of our families, no great object intervened
between ourselves and that last consummation. But these young
undertakings detain us in life. While they need so much care and
counsel, we cannot consent to death. And this first year, at least, of
our Journal, we are determined to live through."
Again she writes of this new departure:--
"In an unexpected hour a new light came to me, showing me a world of
thought and character. The new domain was that of true womanhood, woman
no longer in her ancillary relation to man, but in direct relation to
the divine plan and purpose, as a free agent fully sharing with man
every human right and every human responsibility. This discovery was
like the addition of a new continent to the map of the world. It did not
come all at once. In my philosophizing I at length reached the
conclusion that woman must be the moral and spiritual equivalent of man.
How otherwise could she be entrusted with the awful and inevitable
responsibilities of maternity? The Civil War came to an end, leaving the
slave not only emancipated but endowed with the full dignity of
citizenship. The women of the North had greatly helped to open the door
which admitted him to freedom and its safeguard, the ballot. Was the
door to be shut in their face?"
When this new world of thought, this new continent of sympathy was
opened to her, she was nearly fifty years old. "Oh! had I earlier
known," she exclaims, "the power, the nobility, the intelligence which
lie within the range of true womanhood, I had surely lived more wisely
and to better purpose."
Speaking of this new interest in her life, her old friend Tom Appleton
(who had not the least sympathy with it) once said, "Your mother's great
importance to this cause is that she forms a bridge between the world of
society and the world of reform."
She soon found that she was not alone in her questioning; similar
thoughts to hers were germinating in the minds of many women. In our
own and other countries a host of earnest souls were awake, pressing
eagerly forward. In quick succession came the women's clubs and
colleges, the renewed demand for woman suffrage, the Association for the
Advancement of Women, the banding together of women ministers. The hour
had come, and the women. In all these varying manifestations of one
great forward and upward movement in America, Julia Ward Howe was _pars
magna_. Indeed, the story of the latter half of her life is the story of
the Advance of Woman and the part she played in it.
The various phases may be taken in order. Oberlin, the first
coeducational college, was chartered in 1834. Vassar, the first college
for women only, was chartered in 1861, opened in 1865. Smith and
Wellesley followed in 1875. Considering this brave showing, it is
strange to recall the great fight before the barred doors of the great
universities. The women knocked, gently at first, then strongly: our
mother, Mrs. Agassiz, and the rest. They were greeted by a storm of
protest. Learned books were written, brilliant lectures delivered, to
prove that a college education was ruinous to the health of women,
perilous to that of future generations. The friends of Higher Education
replied in words no less ardent. Blast and counterblast rang forth.
Still the patient hands knocked, the earnest voices called: till at
length--there being friends as well as foes inside--slowly, with much
creaking and many forebodings, the great doors opened; a crack, then a
space, till to-day they swing wide, and the Higher Education of Women
now stands firm as the Pyramids.
The idea of woman suffrage had long been repugnant to our mother. The
demand for it seemed unreasonable; she was inclined to laugh both at the
cause and its advocates; yet when, in November, 1868, Colonel Thomas
Wentworth Higginson asked her to give her name to a call for a meeting
in behalf of woman suffrage she did not refuse. It would be "a liberal
and friendly meeting," the Colonel said, "without bitterness or
extravagance."
On the day of the meeting she "strayed into Horticultural Hall" in her
"rainy-day suit, with no idea of taking any active part in the
proceedings." Indeed, she had hoped to remain unnoticed, until summoned
by an urgent message to join those who sat upon the platform;
reluctantly she obeyed the summons. With this simple action the old
order changed for her. On the platform were gathered the woman suffrage
leaders, some of whom she already knew: William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell
Phillips, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, James Freeman Clarke; veteran
captains of Reform, her husband's old companions-in-arms. Looking in
their steadfast faces, she felt that she belonged with them; that she
must help to draw the car of progress, not drag like a brake on its
wheel.
Beside these were some unknown to her. She saw now for the first time
the sweet face of Lucy Stone, heard the silver voice which was to be
dear to her through many years. "Here stood the true woman, pure, noble,
great-hearted, with the light of her good life shining in every feature
of her face." These men and women had been the champions of the slave.
They now asked for wives and mothers those civil rights which had been
given to the negro; "that impartial justice for which, if for anything,
a Republican Government should stand." Their speech was earnest; she
listened as to a new gospel. When she was asked to speak, she could only
say, "I am with you."
With the new vision came the call of a new duty. "What can I do?" she
asked. The answer was ready. The New England Woman Suffrage Association
was formed, and she was elected its first president. This office she
held, with some interruptions, through life. It is well to recall the
patient, faithful work of the pioneer suffragists, who, without money or
prestige, spent _themselves_ for the cause. Their efforts, compared to
the well-organized and well-financed campaigns of to-day, are as a
"certain upper chamber" compared with the basilica of St. Peter, yet it
was in that quiet room that the tongues of Pentecost spoke.
"I am glad," she often said, "to have joined the suffrage movement,
because it has brought me into such high company."
The convert buckled to her new task with all her might, working for it
early and late with an ardor that counted no cost.
"Oh! dear Mrs. Howe, you are so _full_ of inspiration!" cried a foolish
woman. "It enables you to do _so much_!"
"Inspiration!" said "dear Mrs. Howe," shortly. "Inspiration means
_perspiration_!"
She says of her early work for suffrage:--
"One of the comforts which I found in the new association was the relief
which it afforded me from a sense of isolation and eccentricity. For
years past I had felt strongly impelled to lend my voice to the
convictions of my heart. I had done this in a way, from time to time,
always with the feeling that my course in doing so was held to call for
apology and explanation by the men and women with whose opinions I had
hitherto been familiar. I now found a sphere of action in which this
mode of expression no longer appeared singular or eccentric, but simple,
natural, and, under the circumstances, inevitable."
It was no small thing for her to take up this burden. The Doctor,
although a believer in equal suffrage, was strongly opposed to her
taking any active part in public life. He felt as Grandfather Howe had
felt forty years before when his son Sam spoke in public for the sake of
Greece; it jarred on his traditions. Others of the family also deplored
the new departure, and her personal friends almost with one accord held
up hands of horror or deprecation. These things were inexpressibly
painful to her; she loved approbation; the society and sympathy of "kent
folk," whose traditions corresponded with her own; but her hand was on
the plough; there was no turning back.
Suffrage worked her hard. The following year the New England Woman
Suffrage Association issued a call for the formation of a national body;
the names signed were Lucy Stone, Caroline M. Severance, Julia Ward
Howe, T. W. Higginson, and G. H. Vibbert. Representatives from
twenty-one States assembled in Cleveland, November 24, 1869, and formed
the American Woman Suffrage Association. There was already a "National
Woman Suffrage Association," formed a few months earlier; the new
organization differed from the other in some points of policy, notably
in the fact that men as well as women were recognized among the leaders.
Colonel Higginson was its president at one time, Henry Ward Beecher,
Bishop Gilbert Haven, and Dudley Foulke at others. The New England
Woman's Club also admitted men to membership: it was a point our mother
had much at heart. She held that the Quaker organization was the best,
with its separate meetings of men and women, supplemented by a joint
session of both. She always insisted upon the salutary influence that
men and women exercise upon one another.
"The two sexes police each other," she often said. She always maintained
the importance of their united action in matters of public as of private
interest. She was essentially a humanist in contradistinction to a
feminist.
She worked for the American Association during the twenty-one years of
its separate existence, first as foreign corresponding secretary,
afterward as president, and in various other capacities. When, in 1890,
the two societies united to form the National American Woman Suffrage
Association, she became and continued through life one of the
vice-presidents of that body. From the first, she was recognized as an
invaluable leader. The years of philosophical study had made her mind
supple, alert, quick to grasp and to respond, even as the study of
languages brought her the gift of ready speech and pure diction. Her
long practice in singing had given her voice strength, sweetness, and
carrying power; above all, she was a natural orator, and speaking was a
joy to her. The first time she ever made a speech in public was to a
group of soldiers of the Army of the Potomac on the occasion of a visit
to Washington during the war. She had driven out to visit the camp
outside the Capital. Colonel William B. Greene disconcerted her very
much by saying, "Mrs. Howe, you must speak to my men."
She refused, and ran away to hide in an adjacent tent. The Colonel
insisted, and finally she managed to make a very creditable little
speech to the soldiers.
Now, she no longer ran away when called upon to speak. Wherever the work
called her, she went gladly; like St. Paul, she was "in journeyings
often, ... in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often"; the
journals are full of incidents picturesque to read, uncomfortable to
live through. Occasionally, after some tremendous exertion, we read,
"Maud must not know of this!" or, "No one must ever know that I took the
wrong train!"
Much of her most important work for woman suffrage was done at the State
House, Boston. In Massachusetts, the custom of bringing this subject
before the legislature every year long prevailed. She always went to
these hearings. She considered it a privilege to take part in them;
counted them "among her most valued recollections." They extended over
forty years or more.
These occasions were often exasperating as well as fatiguing. She never
wearied of presenting the arguments for suffrage; she often suffered
vexation of spirit in refuting those brought against it, but she never
refused the battle. "If I were mad enough," she said once, "I could
speak in Hebrew!"
She was "mad enough" when at a certain hearing woman suffrage was
condemned as a "minority cause." Her words, if not in Hebrew, show the
fighting spirit of ancient Israel.
We quote from memory:--
The Reverend ----: "The fact that most women are indifferent or opposed
is a sufficient proof that woman suffrage is wrong."
Mrs. Howe: "May I ask one question? Were the Twelve Apostles wrong in
trying to bring about a better social condition when almost the whole
community was opposed to them?"
Dr. ----: "I suppose that question was asked merely for rhetorical
effect."
Mrs. Howe (having asked for two minutes to reply, with the whispered
comment, "_I shall die_ if I am not allowed to speak!"): "I do not know
how it is with Dr. ----, but I was not brought up to use the Bible for
rhetorical effect. To my mind, the suffragists and their opponents are
like the wise and the foolish virgins of the parable, equal in number
but not in wisdom. When the Bridegroom cometh, may Dr. ---- have his
wedding garment ready!"
She thus recalls some of the scenes in the State House where she was so
long a familiar figure:--
"I have again and again been one of a deputation charged with laying
before a legislature the injustice of the law which forbids the husband
a business contract with his wife, and of that which denies to a married
woman the right to be appointed guardian of her children. We reasoned
also against what in legal language is termed 'the widow's quarantine,'
the ordinance which forbids a widow to remain in her husband's house
more than forty days without paying rent, the widower in such case
possessing an unlimited right to abide under the roof of his deceased
wife. Finally, we dared ask that night-walkers of the male sex should be
made liable to the same penalties as women for the same offence. Our
bill passed the legislature, and became part of the laws of
Massachusetts."
Elsewhere she writes: "In Massachusetts the suffragists worked for
fifty-five years before they succeeded in getting a law making mothers
equal guardians of their minor children with the fathers. In Colorado,
when the women were enfranchised, the next legislature passed such a
bill." Of the movement by which women won a right to have a voice in the
education of their children, she says: "The proposal to render women
eligible for service on the School Board was met at first with derision
and with serious disapproval. The late Abby W. May had much to do with
the early consideration of this measure, and the work which finally
resulted in its adoption had its first beginning in the parlors of the
New England Woman's Club, where special meetings were held in its
behalf. The extension of the school suffrage to women followed, after
much work on the part of men and of women."
"These meetings," she said once, speaking before the Massachusetts Woman
Suffrage Association, "show, among other things, the character of those
who believe in suffrage with their whole heart. We who are gathered here
are not a frantic, shrieking mob. We are not contemners of marriage, nor
neglecters of home and offspring. We are individually allowed to be men
and women of sound intellect, of reputable life, having the same stake
and interest in the well-being of the community that others have. Most
of us are persons of moderate competence, earned or inherited. We have
had, or hope to have, our holy fireside, our joyful cradle, our decent
bank account. Why should any consider us as the enemies of society, we
who have everything to gain by its good government?"
It seems fitting to add a few more of her words in behalf of the cause
which she served so long,--words spoken at Club meetings, at Conventions
before Legislatures.
"But besides the philosophy of woman suffrage, we want its religion.
Human questions are not glorified until they are brought into touch with
the Divine...."
"The weapon of Christian warfare is the ballot, which represents the
peaceable assertion of conviction and will. Adopt it, O you women, with
clean hands and a pure heart!"
* * * * *
"The religion which makes me a moral agent equally with my father and
brother, gives me my right and title to the citizenship which I am here
to assert. I ought to share equally with them its privileges and its
duties. No man can have more at stake in the community than I have.
Imposition of taxes, laws concerning public health, order, and morality,
affect me precisely as they affect the male members of my family, and I
am bound equally with them to look to the maintenance of a worthy and
proper standard and status in all of these departments."
* * * * *
"God forbid that in this country chivalry and legislation should be set
one against the other. I ask you, gentlemen, to put your chivalry into
your legislation. Let the true Christian knighthood find its stronghold
in your ranks. Arm yourselves with the best reasons, with the highest
resolve, and deliver us poor women from the injustice which oppresses
and defrauds us."
* * * * *
"Revere the religion of home. Keep its altar flame bright in your
heart.... The vestals of ancient Rome were at once guardians of the
hearth and custodians of the archives of the Roman State. So, in every
time, the home conserves the sacred flame of life, and the destiny of
the nation rests with those who keep it."
* * * * *
"Go abroad with the majesty and dignity of your home about you.... Let
the modest graces of the fireside adorn you in the great gathering. This
is a new sort of home missionary, one who shall carry the blessed
spirit of home wherever she goes, a spirit of rest, of healing, of
reconciliation and good-will."
* * * * *
"One aspect of this [the military argument] would make the protection
which men are supposed to give to women in time of war the equivalent
for the political rights denied them. But, gentlemen, let me ask what
protection can you give us which shall compare with the protection we
give you when you are born, little helpless creatures, into the world,
without feet to stand upon, or hands to help yourselves? Without this
tender, this unceasing protection, no man of you would live to grow up.
It may easily happen that no man of a whole generation shall ever be
called upon to defend the women of his country in the field. But it
cannot happen that the women of any generation shall fail to give their
unwearied and energetic protection to the infant men born of it. Some of
us know how full of labor and detail this protection is; what anxious
days, what sleepless nights it involves. The mothers are busy at home,
not only building up the bodies of the little men, but building up their
minds too, teaching them to be gentle, pure and honest, cultivating the
elements of the human will, that great moralizing power on which the
State and the Church depend. A man is very happy if he can ever repay to
his mother the protection she gave him in his infancy. So, the plea of
protection has two sides.
"If manhood suffrage is unsatisfactory, it does not at all show that
woman suffrage would be. On the contrary, we might make it much better
by bringing to it the feminine mind, which, in a way, complements the
masculine, and so, I think, completes the mind of humanity. We are half
of humanity, and I do frankly believe that we have half the intelligence
and good sense of humanity, and that it is quite time that we should
express not only our sentiments but our determined will, to set our
faces as a flint toward justice and right, and to follow these through
the difficult path, through the thorny wilderness. Not to the bitter
end, but a very sweet end, and I hope it may be before my end comes."
* * * * *
Her last service to the cause of woman suffrage was to send a circular
letter to all the editors and to all the ministers of four leading
denominations in the four oldest suffrage States, Wyoming, Colorado,
Utah, and Idaho, asking whether equal suffrage worked well or ill. She
received 624 answers, 62 not favorable, 46 in doubt, and 516 in favor. A
letter from her to the London "Times," stating these results, appeared
on the same day that the news of her death was cabled to Europe.
Thinking of the long years of effort which followed her adoption of the
cause of woman suffrage, a word of the Doctor's, spoken in 1875, comes
vividly to mind.
"Your cause," said he, "lacks one element of success, and that is
opposition. It is so distinctly just that it will slide into
popularity." He little thought that the cause was to wait forty years
for that slide!
Side by side with the suffrage movement, growing along with it and with
the women's clubs, and in time to be absorbed by them, was another
movement which was for many years very dear to her, the Association for
the Advancement of Women.
This Association had its beginning in 1873, when Sorosis, then a sturdy
infant, growing fast and reaching out in every direction, issued a call
for a Congress of Women in New York in the autumn of that year. She says
of this call:---
"Many names, some known, others unknown to me, were appended to the
document first sent forth. My own was asked for. Should I give or
withhold it? Among the signatures already obtained, I saw that of Maria
Mitchell,[76] and this determined me to give my own."
[76] She had a great regard and admiration for Miss Mitchell. Scientific
achievement seemed to her well-nigh miraculous, and roused in her an
almost childlike reverence.
She went to the Congress, and "viewed its proceedings a little
critically at first," its plan appearing to her "rather vast and vague."
Yet she felt the idea of the Association to be a good one; and when it
was formed, with the above title, and with Mrs. Livermore as president,
she was glad to serve on a sub-committee, charged with selecting topics
and speakers for the first annual Congress.
The object of the Association was "to consider and present practical
methods for securing to women higher intellectual, moral, and physical
conditions, with a view to the improvement of all domestic and social
relations."
At its first Congress she said:
"How can women best associate their efforts for the amelioration of
Society? We must come together in a teachable and religious spirit.
Women, while building firmly and definitely the fabric they decide to
rear, must yet build with an individual tolerance which their combined
and corporate wisdom may better explain. The form of the Association
should be representative, in a true and wide sense. Deliberation in
common, mutual instruction, achievement for the whole better and more
valuable than the success of any,--these should be the objects held
constantly in view. The good of all the aim of each. The discipline of
labor, faith, and sacrifice is necessary. Our growth in harmony of will
and in earnestness of purpose will be far more important than in
numbers."
One hundred and ninety women formed this Association: a year later there
were three hundred. The second Congress was held in Chicago, with an
attendance "very respectable in numbers and character from the first,
and very full in afternoon and evening."
On the second day, October 16, 1874, the subject considered was "Crime
and Reform." The Journal says:--
"Mrs. Ellen Mitchell's paper on fallen women was first-rate throughout.
I spoke first after it, saying that we must carry the war into Africa
and reform the men...."
The meetings of the Congress grew more and more important to her. That
of 1875 found her "much tossed in mind" about going, on account of the
Doctor's ill health. She consulted Mr. Clarke, but felt afterward that
this was a mistake.
"My dæmon says: 'Go and say nothing. Nobody can help you bear your own
child.'"
She went.
No matter how fatiguing these journeys were, she never failed to find
some enjoyment in them; many were the pleasant "fruits of friendship"
gathered along the way. Some one of the sisters was sure to have a tiny
teapot in her basket; another would produce a spirit-lamp; they drank
their tea, shared their sandwiches, and were merry. She loved to travel
with her "dear big Livermore," with Lucy Stone, and the faithful
Blackwells, father and daughter; perhaps her best-loved companion was
Ednah Cheney, her "esteemed friend of many years, excellent in counsel
and constant and loyal in regard."
Once she and Mrs. Cheney appeared together at an "A.A.W." meeting in a
Southern city, where speaking and singing were to alternate on the
programme. It was in their later years: both were silver-haired and
white-capped. Our mother was to announce the successive numbers.
Glancing over the programme, she saw that Mr. So-and-So was to sing "The
Two Grenadiers." With a twinkling glance toward Mrs. Cheney, she
announced, "The next number will be 'The Two Granny Dears'!"
The Reverend Antoinette Blackwell, describing one of these journeys,
says:--
"As we went onward I was ready to close my eyes and 'loll' or look
lazily out to see the flying landscape seem to be doing the work. When
I roused enough to look at Mrs. Howe she was reading. Later, I looked
again, she was still reading. This went on mile after mile till I was
enough interested to step quietly across the aisle and peep over Mrs.
Howe's shoulder without disturbing her. She was reading a Greek volume,
apparently with as much enjoyment as most of us gain from reading in
plain English when we are not tired.... With apparent unwearied
enjoyment, she told us anecdotes, repeated the little stories and rhymes
and sang the little songs which she had given to her children and
grandchildren....
"We lingered at the breakfast table in the morning and among other
things came to comparing social likes and dislikes. 'I never can bring
myself to destroy the least bit of paper,' said Mrs. Howe, meaning paper
written on, containing the record of human thought and feeling which
might be of worth, and its only record. To her these were the chief
values of life."
The following notes are taken from the record of "A.A.W." journeys in
the eighties:--
"_Buffalo, October 22, 1881._ I felt quite distracted about leaving home
when I came this way for the Congress, but have felt clear about the
good of it, ever since. I rarely have much religious meditation in these
days, except to be very sorry for a very faulty life. I will therefore
record the fact that I have felt an unusual degree of religious comfort
in these last days. It seemed a severe undertaking to preach to-day
after so busy a week, and with little or no time for preparation. But my
text came to me as it usually does, and a hope that the sermon would be
given to me, which, indeed, it seemed to be. I thought it out in bed
last night and this morning...."
"My beautiful, beautiful West,
I clasp thee to my breast!
Or rather down I lie,
Like a little old babe and cry,
A babe to second childhood born,
Astonished at the mighty morn,
And only pleading to be fed,
From Earth's illimitable bread!"
"Left Schenectady yesterday. Drawing-room car. Read Greek a good deal.
At Syracuse I took the tumbler of the car and ran out to get some milk,
etc., for supper. Spent 25 cents, and took my slender meal in the car,
on a table. After this, slept profoundly all the evening; took the
sleeper at Rochester, and slept like the dead, having had very
insufficient sleep for two nights past. Was awakened early to get out at
Cleveland--much detained by a young woman who got into the dressing-room
before me, and stayed to make an elaborate toilet, keeping every one
else out. When at last she came out, I said to her, 'Well, madam, you
have taken your own time, to the inconvenience of everybody else. You
are the most selfish woman I ever travelled with.' Could get only a cup
of coffee and a roll at Cleveland--much confusion about cars--regained
mine, started, and found that I had left my trunk at Cleveland,
unchecked. Flew to conductor, who immediately took measures to have it
forwarded. Must wait all day at Shelby, in the most forlorn hole I ever
saw called a hotel. No parlor, a dark bedroom for me to stay in, a cold
hell without the fire, and a very hot one with it. Dirty bed not made
up, a sinister likeness of Schuyler Colfax hanging high on the wall, and
a print of the managers of Andy Johnson's impeachment. I--in distress
about my trunk--have telegraphed to Mansfield for the title of my
lecture and learn that it is 'Polite Society.' Must give it without the
manuscript, and must borrow a gown to give it in."
"_Minnesota in Winter_
"The twistings and turnings of a lecture trip have brought me twice, in
the present season, to Minnesota....
"To an Easterner, a daily walk or two is the first condition of health.
Here, the frost seemed to enter one's very bones, and to make locomotion
difficult.... Life at the hotel was mostly an anxious _tête-à-tête_ with
an air-tight stove. Sometimes you roasted before it, sometimes you
froze. As you crammed it with wood at night, you said, 'Will you, oh!
will you burn till morning?' Finally, on the coldest night of all, and
at that night's noon, you bade it farewell, on your way to the midnight
train, and wondered whether you should be likely to go further and fare
worse....
"After the lecture an informal sitting was held in the parlor of my
hostess, at which there was much talk of the clubs of Boston; 'If I
forget thee, O Jerusalem!' being the predominant tone in the minds of
those present. And at noon, away, away, in the caboose of a freight car,
to meet the passenger train at Owatonna, and so reach Minneapolis by
early evening.
"To travel in such a caboose is a somewhat rough experience. The dirt is
grimy and of long standing. The pictures nailed up on the boards are not
of an edifying description. The railroad employees who have admitted us
into their place of refuge wear dirty overalls, and eat their dinner out
of tin pails all afloat with hot coffee. One of my own sex keeps me in
countenance....
"_Minneapolis_
"Twenty years ago, a small collection of wooden houses, of no particular
account, except for the natural beauties of the spot on which they
stood. Now, a thriving and well-built city, whose manufacturers have
settled the controversy between use and beauty, by appropriating the
Falls of St. Anthony to the running of their saw- and flour-mills. My
first sensation of delight here was at finding myself standing on
Hennepin Avenue. To a reader of Parkman's histories, the spot was
classic.... To refresh my own recollections, I had recourse to the
Public Library of the town, where I soon found Parkman's 'Discovery of
the Great West.' Armed with this volume, with the aid of a cheap and
miserable railroad map, I traced out something of the movements of those
hardy French explorers. It was like living part of a romance, to look
upon the skies and waters which had seen them wandering, suffering, yet
undaunted....
"_St. Paul_
"But I cannot rest so near St. Paul without visiting this famous city
also. I contemplate a trip in the cars, but my friendly host leaves his
business for a day, and drives me over in an open sleigh. I do not
undertake this jaunt without Bostonian fears of death of cold, but
Minnesota cold is highly stimulating, and with the aid of a bottle of
hot water, I make the journey without a shiver.... Numbers of Indian
squaws from Mendota walk the streets in groups. I follow three of them
into a warehouse. One of them has Asiatic features--the others are
rather pretty. They are Sioux. I speak to them, but they do not reply.
The owner of the warehouse asks what he can show me. I tell him that I
desire to see what the squaws will buy. He says that they buy very
little, except beads, and have only come into the store to warm
themselves. They smile, and obviously understand English. We dine at the
hotel, a very pleasant one. There is no printed bill of fare, but the
waiter calls off 'beefsteak, porksteak,' etc., and we make a comfortable
meal. I desire to purchase some dried buffalo meat, and find some, not
without difficulty, as the season for selling it is nearly over. The
crowning romance of the day is a sleighride of five miles on the
Mississippi, giving us a near view of its fluted bluffs and numerous
islets. We visit also the Falls of Minnehaha, now sheeted in ice, but
very beautiful, even in this disguise. We talk of 'Hiawatha,' and my
companion says, 'If Mr. Longfellow had ever seen a Sioux Indian, he
would not have written "Hiawatha."' The way to the bottom of the falls
is so slippery with ice that I conclude not to attempt it. The day,
which was one of great exposure, passed in great pleasure, and without
chill or fatigue....
"In my days of romance, I remember watching late one night on board the
Mediterranean steamer in order to be sure of the moment in which we
should pass beyond the boundaries of the Italian shore. Something like
such a feeling of interest and regret came over me when, in the unpoetic
_sleeper_, I asked at what hour of the night the cars would pass out of
Minnesota on the way back to Chicago. This sincere testimony from a
veteran of travel, in all sorts, will perhaps convince those who do not
know the young State that she has a great charm of beauty and of
climate, besides a great promise of future prosperity and eminence."
"_Kansas_
"Travel in Minnesota was living romance. Travel in Kansas is living
history. I could not cross its borders, new as these are, without
unlocking a volume of the past, written in blood and in prayer, and
sealed with the forfeit of noble lives. A ghostly army of warriors
seemed to escort me as I entered the fair, broad territory. John Brown,
the captain of them, stretched his hand to the Capitol, and Sumner, and
Andrew, and Howe were with him. Here was the stand made, here the good
fight begun, which, before it was well under way, divided the thought
and sentiment of Europe, as well as those of America.
"My tired spirit sought to shake off at this point the commonplace sense
of weariness and annoyance. To be in Kansas, and that for work, not for
pastime. To bring the woman's word where the man's rough sword and spade
had once wrought together, this was poetry, not prose. To be cold, and
hungry, and worn with journeying, could not efface the great interest
and pleasure....
"_Atchison_
"I was soon told that a gentleman was anxious to speak with me
concerning my land at Grasshopper, which borders immediately upon his
own. Judge Van Winkle accordingly, with due permission, waited upon me,
and unfolded his errand. Grasshopper, he said, was a growing place. It
possessed already a store and an apothecary. It had now occasion for a
schoolhouse, and one corner of my land offered the most convenient place
for such an institution. The town did not ask me to give this land--it
was willing to pay a fair price for the two acres wanted. Wishing to
learn a little more about the township, I asked whether it possessed the
requisite variety of creeds.
"'Have you a Baptist, a Methodist, an Episcopalian, and a Universalist
church?'
"'No,' said my visitor, 'we have no church at all. People who wish to
preach can do so in some private house.' I afterwards learn that Judge
Van Winkle is a student of Plato; who knows what may be his Hellenic
heresy? He is endorsed, however, by others as a good, solid man, and the
proposition for the schoolhouse receives my favorable consideration.
"_Leavenworth_
"My first visit to Leavenworth was a stay of a couple of hours between
trains, on my way to southern Kansas. Short as this was, it yet brought
to my acquaintance two new friends, and to my remembrance two old ones.
Of the new friends, the first seen was Rev. Edward Sanborn, the
Unitarian minister of the place. Mr. Sanborn met me at the comfortless
depot, and insisted upon taking me to his lodgings, where Friend Number
Two, in the shape of his amiable wife, added herself to the list of my
well-wishers. Mr. Sanborn had just been burned out. His house took fire
while he and his wife were spending Christmas Day with a neighbor, and
burned so quickly that no article in it could be saved. He had found in
the ashes the charred remains of his manuscript sermons, and had good
hope of being able to decipher them. As the pleasant minutes passed in
easy conversation, I could not help reflecting on the instinctive
hospitality of Western life. This cosy corner in a mere hired bedroom
had given me a rest and a shelter which I should have been unwilling to
ask for in some streets of palaces which have been familiar to me from
my youth up."
The Association for the Advancement of Women was a pioneer society, and
did vital work for twenty-five years. During the greater part of that
time she was its president. She never missed (save when in Europe) one
of its annual congresses, or one of the mid-year conferences (of
officers only) which she considered of high moment. She worked for the
Association with a loving enthusiasm that never varied or faltered; and
it was a real grief to her when the changing of the old order resolved
it into its elements, to take new shape in the larger and
farther-reaching work of the General Federation of Clubs, and other
kindred societies.
Many of these may be called the children of "A.A.W." The greatest
service of the latter was in founding women's clubs throughout the
country. Wherever they went, to conferences or conventions, its leaders
called about them the thoughtful women of the neighborhood, and helped
them to plan local associations for study and work.
* * * * *
There was still another aspect of the Woman Question, dearer to her even
than "A.A.W."
A woman minister once said: "My conviction that Mrs. Howe was a divinely
ordained preacher was gained the first time that she publicly espoused
the question of woman suffrage in 1869."
We have seen that little Julia Ward began her ministrations in the
nursery. At eight years old she was adjuring her little cousin to love
God and he would see death approaching with joy. At eleven she was
writing her "Invitation to Youth":--
Oh! let thy meditations be of God,
Who guides thy footsteps with unerring eye;
And who, until the path of life is trod,
Will never leave thee by thyself to die.
When morning's rays so joyously do shine,
And nature brightens at the face of day,
Oh! think then on the joys that shall be thine
If thou wilt early walk the narrow way.
We have followed her through the Calvinistic period of religious gloom
and fervor; through the intellectual awakening that followed; through
the years when she could say to Philosophy,--
"... The world its plenitude
May keep, so I may share thy beggary."
These various phases were like divers-colored shades covering a lamp:
through them all the white flame of religion burned clear and steady,
fostered by a natural piety which was as much a part of her as the
breath she drew.
In the year 1865 came the call to preach. She was asked to speak before
the Parker Fraternity in Boston. She chose for her discourse a paper on
"Ideal Causation," which she had thought "the crown of her endeavor
hitherto."
"To my sorrow, I found that it did not greatly interest my hearers, and
that one who was reported to have wondered 'what Mrs. Howe was driving
at' had spoken the mind of many of those present.
"I laid this lesson much to heart, and, becoming convinced that
metaphysics did not supply the universal solvent for human evils, I
determined to find a _pou sto_ nearer to the sympathies of the average
community, from which I might speak for their good and my own.
"From my childhood the Bible had been dear and familiar to me, and I now
began to consider texts and sermons, in place of the transcendental webs
I had grown so fond of spinning. The passages of Scripture which now
occurred to me filled me with a desire to emphasize their wisdom by a
really spiritual interpretation. From this time on, I became more and
more interested in the religious ministration of women...."
Her first sermon was preached at Harrisburg in 1870. Then followed the
sermons in Santo Domingo, and those of the Peace Crusade in London; from
this time, the Woman Ministry was one of the causes dearest to her
heart. The Journal from now on contains many texts and notes for
sermons.
In 1871, "What the lost things are which the Son of Man came to save,
lost values, lost jewels, darkened souls, scattered powers, lost
opportunities."
A year later: "Preached in the afternoon at the South Portsmouth
meetinghouse. Text, 'I will arise and go unto my father,' Subject: 'The
Fatherhood of God.' I did as well as usual.... In the evening my text
was: 'Abide in me and I in you,' etc., but I was at one moment so
overcome with fatigue that the whole thread of my discourse escaped me.
I paused for a moment, excused myself briefly to the congregation, and
was fortunate enough to seize the thread of my discourse again, and got
through quite well. I felt this very much,--the fear of failure, I mean.
The fatigue was great and my brain felt it much. My dæmon told me
beforehand that I could not repeat this sermon and had better read it. I
shall believe him next time. This is a difficult point, to know how far
to trust the dæmon. He is not to be implicitly trusted, nor yet to be
neglected. In these days I am forced to review the folly and
shortcomings of my life. My riper reason shows me a sad record of
follies and of faults. I seem to sit by and listen sadly; no chastening
for the present is joyous but grievous."
"_Sunday, September 29._ Reverend Mrs. Gustine to dine. I afterwards to
church to hear her. A sweet woman, called of God, with a real power. Her
voice, manner, and countenance, most sweet and impressive. Intellection
not remarkable, I think, but tone, feeling, and effect very remarkable.
No one, I think, would doubt the reality of spiritual things after
hearing her. I asked myself why I am not jealous of her, as she preaches
far more effectively than I do. Well, partly because I believe in my own
gift, such as it is, and partly because what she does is natural,
genuine, and without pretence or pretension. Her present Society was
much disturbed by strife when she was called to its care. No man, she
told me, could have united the opposing parties. A true woman could.
This shows me a work that women have to do in the Church as well as
elsewhere. Where men cannot make peace, they can. Mrs. Gustine says that
by my writings and example I have helped her a good deal. I am glad to
hear this, but pray to do far better than I have yet done.... Thought
much about Mrs. Gustine, who, without any of my training and culture,
can do what I cannot. I can also do what she cannot--think a subject
out. She can only shadow and suggest, yet how powerful is the contact of
her soul, and what a good power!"
"_Saturday, October 26._ To Vineyard Haven to help Mr. Stevens with
to-morrow's services.... Arrival rainy and dismal. Mission house lonely
in a storm. Mr. S.'s young niece very capable and pleasant; did the
honors and took care of me. I was very hungry before supper, having had
nothing since breakfast except a few chestnuts and a biscuit. Wondered
a little why I had come."
"_Sunday, 27th._ Found out why I had come. Preached from text: 'Oh, that
men would praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works,'
etc. Consider these wonderful works: the world we live in, a human body
and brain, a human soul.
"_Evening._ 'The ministry of reconciliation,' how Christianity
reconciles man to God, nature to spirit, men to each other.
"I went through the two services entirely alone. I felt supported and
held up. I had hoped and prayed this journey might bring some special
good to some one. It brought great comfort to me...."
On February 16, 1873, after hearing a powerful sermon, she feels
awakened to take up the work over which she has dreamed so much, and
talks with her friend, Mary Graves, herself an ordained minister of the
Unitarian Church, about "our proposed Woman's Mission here in Boston." A
few days later she writes: "Determine that my Sunday services must be
held and to see Redpath[77] in this connection."
[77] Of the Redpath Bureau.
The result of this determination was the organization of the Woman's
Liberal Christian Union, which held Sunday afternoon meetings through
the spring. She preached the first sermon, on March 16. "I meant," she
says, "to read my London sermon, but found it not suitable. Wrote a new
one as well as I could. Had a very good attendance. Was forced to play
the hymn tunes myself. Am thankful that the occasion seemed to meet
with acceptance."
In 1873, a number of women ministers having come to Boston to attend the
May Anniversaries, she conceived the idea of bringing them together in a
meeting all their own. She issued a call for a Woman Preachers'
Convention, and this convention, the first held in any country, met on
May 29, 1873. She was elected president, the Reverends Mary H. Graves
and Olympia Brown vice-presidents, Mrs. Bruce secretary. The Journal
describes this meeting as "most harmonious and happy."
In 1893, speaking of this time, she said:--
"I find that it is just twenty years, last spring, since I made the
first effort to gather in one body the women who intended to devote
themselves to the ministry.
"The new liberties of utterance which the discussion of woman suffrage
had brought us seemed at this time not only to invite, but to urge upon
us a participation in the advocacy of the most vital interests both of
the individual and of the community. With some of us, this advocacy
naturally took the form of preaching. Pulpits were offered us on all
sides, and the charm of novelty lent itself to such merit and power as
Nature had vouchsafed us. I am so much of a natural church-woman, I
might say an ecclesiast, that I at once began to dream of a church of
true womanhood. I felt how much the masculine administration of
religious doctrine had overridden us women, and I felt how partial and
one-sided a view of these matters had been inculcated by men, and handed
down by man-revering mothers. Now, I thought, we have got hold of what
is really wanting in the Church universal. We need to have the womanly
side of religion represented. Without this representation, we shall not
have the fulness of human thought for the things that most deeply
concern it. As a first step, I undertook to hold religious services on
Sunday afternoons, and to secure for them the assistance of as many
woman preachers as I could hear of. I had in this undertaking the
assistance of my valued friend, Reverend Mary H. Graves."
The society thus formed was first called "The Woman's Church," later,
"The Woman's Ministerial Conference." A second meeting was held, June 1,
1874, but it was not till 1892 that this Conference was finally
organized and established, to her great satisfaction. She was elected
its president, and held the office till death.
The secretary, Reverend Ada C. Bowles, says of this Conference: "As its
main object was to promote a sense of fellowship, rather than to expect
associated labor, owing to the scattered membership, meetings were not
always regularly held, or possible. But it has held together because
Mrs. Howe loved it, and had a secretary as loyal to her as she was to
all the women ministers."
She herself has said: "I was impressed with the importance of religious
life, and believed in the power of association. I believed that women
ministers would be less sectarian than men; and I thought that if those
of different denominations could meet occasionally and compare notes, it
would be of value."
After the formal conference, she welcomed the members at her own house,
talked with them, and heard of their doings. Her eyes kindled as she
heard of the Wayside Chapel (of Malden, Massachusetts) built by its
pastor, Mrs. E. M. Bruce, who was also its trustee, janitor, choir, and
preacher; heard how for thirteen years this lady had rung the bell every
evening for vesper service, and had never lacked a congregation: or of
the other woman who was asked "very diffidently" if she would conduct
the funeral services of an honest and upright man who had died of drink,
owing to an inherited tendency.
"They had expected to have it in the undertaker's rooms," said the
Reverend Florence Buck, of Wisconsin, "but we had it in my own church.
It was packed with people of all sorts, who had been interested in him;
and the Bartenders' Union were there in a body.... It was an opportunity
that I would not have given up to preach to the President and Senate of
the United States. Next day ... they said, 'We expected she'd wallop us
to hell; but she talked to us like a mother!'"
Then she turned to the president, and said, "The woman minister is often
lonely. I want to thank Mrs. Howe, who welcomed me at the beginning of
my ministry. Her hand-clasp has stayed with me ever since."
Our mother was never ordained: it is doubtful whether she ever
contemplated such a step; but she felt herself consecrated to the work;
wherever she was asked to preach, she went as if on wings, feeling this
call more sacred than any other. She preached in all parts of the
country, from Maine to California, from Minnesota to Louisiana; but the
pulpit in which she felt most truly at home was that of the Church of
the Disciples. Mr. Clarke had first welcomed her there: his successor,
Charles Gordon Ames, became in turn her valued friend and pastor.
The congregation were all her friends. On Sundays they gathered round
her after service, with greetings and kind words. She was ready enough
to respond. "Congregationing," as she called this little function, was
her delight; after listening devoutly to the sermon, there was always a
reaction to her gayest mood. Her spirit came to church with folded hands
of prayer, but departed on dancing feet. Sometimes she reproached
herself with over-friskiness; but mostly she was too wise for this, and
let the sun shine when and where it would.
She preached many times in the Church of the Disciples. The white-clad
figure, the clasped hands, the upturned face shining with the inner
light, will be remembered by some who read these pages.
END OF VOLUME I
JULIA WARD HOWE
1819-1910
VOLUME II
CONTENTS VOLUME II
I. EUROPE REVISITED. 1877 3
II. A ROMAN WINTER. 1878-1879 28
III. NEWPORT. 1879-1882 46
IV. 241 BEACON STREET: THE NEW ORLEANS EXPOSITION. 1882-1885 80
V. MORE CHANGES. 1886-1888 115
VI. SEVENTY YEARS YOUNG. 1889-1890 143
VII. A SUMMER ABROAD. 1892-1893 164
VIII. "DIVERS GOOD CAUSES." 1890-1896 186
IX. IN THE HOUSE OF LABOR. 1896-1897 214
X. THE LAST ROMAN WINTER. 1897-1898 237
XI. EIGHTY YEARS. 1899-1900 258
XII. STEPPING WESTWARD. 1901-1902 282
XIII. LOOKING TOWARD SUNSET. 1903-1905 308
XIV. "THE SUNDOWN SPLENDID AND SERENE." 1906-1907 342
XV. "MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD."
1808-1910 369
JULIA WARD HOWE
CHAPTER I
EUROPE REVISITED
1877; _aet._ 58
A MOMENT'S MEDITATION IN COLOGNE CATHEDRAL
Enter Life's high cathedral
With reverential heart,
Its lofty oppositions
Matched with divinest art.
Thought with its other climbing
To meet and blend on high;
Man's mortal and immortal
Wed for eternity.
When noon's high mass is over,
Muse in the silent aisles;
Wait for the coming vespers
In which new promise smiles.
When from the dome height echoes
An "_Ite, missa est_,"
Whisper thy last thanksgiving,
Depart, and take thy rest.
J. W. H.
From the time of the Doctor's death till her marriage in 1887, the
youngest daughter was her mother's companion and yoke-fellow. In all
records of travel, of cheer, of merriment, she can say thankfully: "_Et
ego in Arcadia vixi_."
The spring of 1877 found the elder comrade weary with much lecturing and
presiding, the younger somewhat out of health. Change of air and scene
was prescribed, and the two sailed for Europe early in May.
Throughout the journeyings which followed, our mother had two objects in
view: to see her own kind of people, the seekers, the students, the
reformers, and their works; and to give Maud the most vivid first
impression of all that would be interesting and valuable to her. These
objects were not always easy to combine.
After a few days at Chester (where she laments the "restoration" of the
fine old oak of the cathedral, "now shining like new, after a boiling in
potash") and a glimpse of Hawarden and Warwick, they proceeded to London
and took lodgings in Bloomsbury (a quarter of high fashion when she
first knew London, now given over to lodgings). Once settled, she lost
no time in establishing relations with friends old and new. The
Unitarian Association was holding its annual conference; one of the
first entries in the Journal tells of her attending the Unitarian
breakfast where she spoke about "the poor children and the Sunday
schools."
Among her earliest visitors was Charles Stewart Parnell, of whom she
says:--
"Mrs. Delia Stewart Parnell, whom I had known in America, had given me a
letter of introduction to her son, Charles, who was already conspicuous
as an advocate of Home Rule for Ireland. He called upon me and appointed
a day when I should go with him to the House of Commons. He came in his
brougham and saw me safely deposited in the ladies' gallery. He was then
at the outset of his stormy career, and his sister Fanny told me that he
had in Parliament but one supporter of his views, 'a man named Biggar.'
He certainly had admirers elsewhere, for I remember having met a
disciple of his, O'Connor by name, at a 'rout' given by Mrs. Justin
McCarthy. I asked this lady if her husband agreed with Mr. Parnell. She
replied with warmth, 'Of course; we are all Home Rulers here.'"
"_May 26._ To Floral Hall concert, where heard Patti--and many others--a
good concert. In the evening to Lord Houghton's, where made acquaintance
of Augustus Hare, author of 'Memorials of a Quiet Life,' etc., with Mrs.
Proctor, Mrs. Singleton [Violet Fane], Dr. and Mrs. Schliemann, and
others, among them Edmund Yates. Lord Houghton was most polite and
attentive. Robert Browning was there."
Whistler was of the party that evening. His hair was then quite black,
and the curious white forelock which he wore combed high like a feather,
together with his striking dress, made him one of the most conspicuous
figures in the London of that day. Henry Irving came in late: "A rather
awkward man, whose performance of 'Hamlet' was much talked of at that
time." She met the Schliemanns often, and heard Mrs. Schliemann speak
before the Royal Geographical Society, where she made a plea for the
modern pronunciation of Greek. In order to help her husband in his work,
Mrs. Schliemann told her, she had committed to memory long passages from
Homer which proved of great use to him in his researches at Mycenæ and
Tiryns.
"_May 27...._ Met Mr. and Mrs. Wood--he has excavated the ruins at
Ephesus, and has found the site of the Temple of Diana. His wife has
helped him in his work, and having some practical experience in the use
of remedies, she gave much relief to the sick men and women of the
country."
"_June 2._ Westminster Abbey at 2 P.M. ... I enjoyed the service,
Mendelssohn's 'Hymn of Praise,' Dean Stanley's sermon, and so on, very
unusually. Edward Twisleton seemed to come back to me, and so did dear
Chev, and a spiritual host of blessed ones who have passed within the
veil...."
"_June 14._ Breakfast with Mr. Gladstone. Grosvenor Gallery with the
Seeleys. Prayer meeting at Lady Gainsborough's.
"We were a little early, for Mrs. Gladstone complained that the flowers
ordered from her country seat had but just arrived. A daughter of the
house proceeded to arrange them. Breakfast was served at two round
tables, exactly alike.
"I was glad to find myself seated between the great man and the Greek
minister, John Gennadius. The talk ran a good deal upon Hellenics, and I
spoke of the influence of the Greek in the formation of the Italian
language, to which Mr. Gladstone did not agree. I know that scholars
differ on the point, but I still retain the opinion I expressed. I
ventured a timid remark regarding the number of Greek derivatives used
in our common English speech. Mr. Gladstone said very abruptly, 'How?
What? English words derived from Greek?' and almost
'Frightened Miss Muffet away.'
"He is said to be habitually disputatious, and I thought that this must
certainly be the case; for he surely knew better than most people how
largely and familiarly we incorporate the words of Plato, Aristotle, and
Xenophon in our everyday talk."[78]
[78] _Reminiscences_, pp. 411 and 412.
Mr. Gladstone was still playing the first rôle on the stage of London
life. Our mother notes hearing him open the discussion that followed
Mrs. Schliemann's address before the Royal Geographical Society. Lord
Rosebery, who was at that time Mr. Gladstone's private secretary, talked
much of his chief, for whom he expressed impassioned devotion. Rosebery,
though he must have been a man past thirty at the time, looked a mere
boy. His affection for "Uncle Sam" Ward was as loyal as that for his
chief, and it was on his account that he paid our mother some attention
when she was in London.
She always remembered this visit as one of the most interesting of the
many she made to the "province in brick." She was driving three horses
abreast,--her own life, Maud's life, the life of London. She often spoke
of the great interest of seeing so many different circles of London
society; likening it to a layer cake, which a fortunate stranger is able
to cut through, enjoying a little of each. Her modest Bloomsbury
lodgings were often crowded by the leaders of the world of letters,
philanthropy, and art, and some even of the world of fashion. The little
lodging-house "slavey" was often awed by the titles on the cards she
invariably presented between a work-worn thumb and finger. It is
curious to contrast the brief record of these days with that of the
Peace Crusade.
"_June 10._ To morning service at the Foundling Hospital--very touching.
To luncheon with M. G. D. where met the George Howards."
"_June 15...._ 'Robert' [opera] with Richard Mansfield."
"_June 18._ Synagogue."
"_June 19._ Lord Mayor's Mansion House. I am to speak there concerning
Laura Bridgman. Henry James may come to take me to St. Bart.'s
Hospital."
"_June 25._ 'Messiah.' Miss Bryce."
"_June 26._ Dined with Capt. Ward. Theatre. Justin McCarthy."
"_June 28._ Meeting in Lambeth Library."
"_June 29._ Russell Gurney's garden party.
"Miss Marston's, Onslow Sq., 4 P.M. Anti-vivisection. Met Dudley
Campbell. A day of rest, indeed. I wrote out my anti-vivisection
argument for to-morrow, and finished the second letter to the Chicago
'Tribune.' Was thus alone nearly all day. Dined at Brentini's in my old
fashion, chop, tea, and beer, costing one shilling and fivepence."
She remembered with pleasure an evening spent with the Duke and Duchess
of Devonshire at Devonshire House. A ball at Mr. Goschen's was another
evening of enchantment, as was also the dinner given for her at
Greenwich by Edmund Yates, where she had a good talk with Mr. Mallock,
whose "New Republic" was one of the books of that season. She managed,
too, sometimes to be at home; among her visitors were William Black,
John Richard Green, and Mr. Knowles, editor of the "Nineteenth Century."
The London visit lasted nearly two months; as the engagements multiply,
its records grow briefer and briefer. There are many entries like the
following:--
"Breakfast with Lord Houghton, where met Lord Granville and M.
Waddington, late Minister of Education in France. Garden party at
Chiswick in the afternoon. Prince of Wales there with his eldest son,
Prince Albert Victor. Mrs. Julian Goldsmith's ball in the evening."
It is remembered that she bravely watched the dancers foot it through
the livelong night, and drove home by daylight, with her "poor dancing
Maud"!
Madame Waddington was formerly Miss King, the granddaughter of Mr.
Ward's old partner. Our mother was always interested in meeting any
descendants of Prime, Ward & King.
With all this, she was writing letters for the Chicago "Tribune" and the
"Woman's Journal." This year of 1877 saw the height of the Æsthetic
movement. Mrs. Langtry, the "Jersey Lily," was the beauty and toast of
the season. Gilbert and Sullivan's "Patience" was the dramatic hit of
the year, and "Greenery yallery, Grosvenor Gallery" the most popular
catch of the day.
She found it hard to tear herself away from England; the visit (which
she likened to one at the house of an adored grandmother) was over all
too soon. But July was almost gone; and the two travellers finally left
the enchanted island for Holland, recalling Emerson's advice to one
going abroad for the first time: "A year for England, and a year for the
rest of the world!"
The much neglected Journal now takes up the story.
The great Franz Hals pictures delighted her beyond measure. She always
bought the best reproductions she could afford, and valued highly an
etching that she owned from his Bohémienne. She never waited for any
authority to admire either a work of art or a person. She had much to
say about the influence of the Dutch blood both in our own family and in
our country, which was to her merely a larger family connection. All
through Holland she was constantly noting customs and traditions which
we seemed to have inherited; and she felt a great likeness and sympathy
between herself and some of the Dutch people she knew.
"_The Hague._ To the old prison where the instruments of torture are
preserved. The prison itself is so dark and bare that to stay therein
was a living death. To this was often added the most cruel torture. The
poor wretch was stretched on a cross, on which revolving wheels, turned
by a crank, agonized and destroyed his spinal column--or, by another
machine, his head and feet were drawn in opposite directions--or, his
limbs were stretched out and every bone broken with an iron bar.
Tortures of fire and water were added. Through all these horrors, I saw
the splendors of faith and conscience which illuminated these dungeons,
and which enabled frail humanity to bear these inflictions without
flinching."
She always wanted to see the torture chambers. She listened to all the
detailed explanations and looked at all the dreadful instruments, buoyed
up by the thought of the splendors she speaks of, when mere shrinking
flesh-and-blood creatures like her companion, who only thought of the
poor tortured bodies, could not bear the strain of it.
From The Hague they went to Amsterdam, where they "worked hard at seeing
the rich museum, which contains some of the largest and best of
Rembrandt's pictures, and much else of interest"; thence to Antwerp.
Here she writes:--
"To the Museum, where saw the glorious Rubens and Van Dycks, together
with the Quentin Matsys triptych. Went to the Cathedral, and saw the
dear Rubens pictures--my Christ in the Elevation of the Cross seemed to
me as wonderful as ever. The face asks, 'Why hast thou forsaken me?' but
seems also to reflect the answer, from the very countenance of the
Father. Education of the Virgin by Rubens--angels hold a garland above
the studious head of the young Madonna. This would be a good picture for
Vassar."
"_Sunday, July 29._ Up betimes--to high mass at the Cathedral. Had a
seat near the Descent, and saw it better than ever before. Could not see
the Elevation so well, but feasted my eyes on both. Went later to the
church of St. Paul where Rubens's Flagellation is. Found it very
beautiful. At 4 P.M. M. Félu[79] came to take us to the Zoo, which is
uncommonly good. The collection of beasts from Africa is very rich. They
are also successful in raising wild beasts, having two elephants, a
tiger, and three giraffes which have been born in the cages--some young
lions also. The captive lioness always destroyed her young, and these
were saved by being given to a dog to nurse...."
[79] The armless painter. See _ante_, vol. I, chap. XII.
August found the travellers in Prussia.
"Passed the day in Berlin.... At night took railroad for Czerwinsk,
travelling second-class. After securing our seats, as we supposed, we
left the cars to get some refreshments, when a man and a woman displaced
our effects, and took our places. The woman refused to give me my place,
and annoyed me by pushing and crowding me."
The brutality of this couple was almost beyond belief. She was always so
gracious to fellow-travellers that they usually "made haste to be kind"
in return. She made it a point to converse with the intelligent-looking
people she met, either in the train or at the _tables d'hôte_ then still
in vogue. She talked with these chance acquaintances of their country or
their profession. It was never mere idle conversation.
This journey across Europe was undertaken solely for the pleasure of
seeing her sister, always her first object in visiting Europe. The bond
between them was very strong, spite of the wide difference of their
natures and the dissimilarity of their interests. Mrs. Terry was now
visiting her eldest daughter, Annie Crawford, married to Baron Eric von
Rabé and living at Lesnian in German Poland. Baron Eric had served in
the Franco-Prussian War with distinction, had been seriously wounded,
and obliged to retire from active service. Here was an entirely new
social atmosphere, the most conservative in Europe. Even before the
travellers arrived, the shadow of formality had fallen upon them; for
Mrs. Terry had written begging that they would arrive by "first-class"!
At that time the saying was, "Only princes, Americans, and fools travel
first-class," and our mother's rule had been to travel second. The
journey was already a great expense, and the added cost seemed to her
useless. Accordingly, she bought second-class tickets to a neighboring
station and first-class ones from there to Czerwinsk. This entailed
turning out in the middle of the night and waiting an hour for the
splendid express carrying the stiff and magnificently upholstered
first-class carriages, whose red plush seats and cushions were nothing
like so comfortable as the old grey, cloth-lined, second-class
carriages!
Still, the travellers arrived looking as proud as they could, wearing
their best frocks and bonnets. They travelled with the Englishwoman's
outfit. "Three suits. Hightum, tightum, and scrub." "Hightum" was for
any chance festivity, "tightum" for the _table d'hôte_, "scrub" for
everyday travelling. The question of the three degrees was anxiously
discussed on this occasion; it was finally decided that only "hightum"
would come up to the Von Rabé standard.
"_August 4._ Arrived at Czerwinsk, where sister L. and Baron von Rabé
met us. He kissed my hand in a courtly manner. My sister looks well, but
has had a hard time. We drove to Lesnian where Annie von R. and her
mother-in-law made us welcome."
"_August 9, Lesnian._ A quiet day at home, writing and some work. Tea
with Sister L. in the open air. Then went with Baron von Rabé to visit
his farm buildings, which are very extensive; not so nicely finished as
would be the case in America. We got many fleas in our clothes.... In
the evening the Baron began to dispute with me concerning the French and
the use and excellence of war, etc...."
"_August 12._ Up early--to Czerwinsk and thence by Dirschau to
Marienburg to see the famous Ritterschloss of the Teutonic Knights....
Marien-Kirch.... Angel Michael weighing the souls, a triptych--the good
in right wing received by St. Peter and clothed by angels, the wicked in
the other wing going down. The beautiful sheen of the Archangel--like
peacock brightness--a devil with butterfly wings."
"_August 14._ In the church yesterday we were shown five holes in a flat
tombstone. They say that a parricide was buried beneath this stone, and
the fingers of his hand forced themselves through these holes. They
showed us this hand, dried, and hung up in a chapel. Here also we saw a
piece of embroidery in fine pearls, formerly belonging to the Catholic
service, and worth thousands of dollars. Some very ancient priests'
garments, with Arabic designs, were said to have been brought from the
East by the Crusaders. An astronomic clock is shown in the church. The
man who made it set about making another, but was made blind lest he
should do so. By and by, pretending that he must repair or regulate
something in the clock, he so puts it out of order that it never goes
again.
"The amber-merchant--the felt shoes--views of America--the lecture--the
Baltic."
She was enchanted with Dantzig. The ancient Polish Jews in their long
cloth gabardines, with their hair dressed in two curls worn in front of
the ear and hanging down on either side of the face, showed her how
Shylock must have looked. She was far more interested in the relics of
the old Polish civilization than in the crude, brand-new Prussian régime
which was replacing it; but this did not suit her hosts. The peasants
who worked on the estate were all Poles; the relations between them and
their employer smacked strongly of serfdom. One very intelligent man,
who often drove her, was called Zalinski. It struck her that this man
might be related to her friend Lieutenant Zalinski, of the United States
Army. She asked him if he had any relatives in America. He replied that
a brother of his had gone to America many years before. He seemed deeply
interested in the conversation and tried once or twice to renew it. One
of the family, who was driving with our mother at the time, managed to
prevent any more talk about the American Zalinski, and when the drive
was over she was seriously called to account.
"Can you not see that it would be extremely unfortunate if one of our
servants should learn that any relative of his could possibly be a
friend of one of our guests?"
She was never allowed to see Zalinski again; on inquiring for him, she
learned that he had been sent to a fair with horses to sell. He did not
return to Lesnian during the remainder of her stay.
One of the picturesque features of the visit was the celebration of
Baron Eric's birthday. It was a general holiday, and no work was done on
the estate. After breakfast family and guests assembled in front of the
old château; the baron, a fine, soldierly-looking man, his wife, the
most graceful of women, and the only daughter, a lovely little girl with
the well-chiselled Crawford features. The peasants, dressed in their
best, assembled in procession in the driveway; one by one, in order of
their age or position, they came up the steps, presented the Baroness
with a bouquet, bent the knee and kissed the hand of Baron and Baroness.
To most of the guests the picture was full of Old-World romance and
charm. To one it was an offence. That the granddaughter of her father,
the child of her adored sister, should have been placed by fate in this
feudal relationship to the men and women by whose labor she lived
outraged her democratic soul.
The Journal thus describes the days at Lesnian:--
"The Baron talked much last evening, first about his crops, then about
other matters. He believes duelling to be the most efficient agency in
promoting a polite state of society. Would kill any one whom he
suspected of great wrong much sooner than bring him to justice. The law,
he says, is slow and uncertain--the decision of the sword much more
effectual. The present Government favors duelling. If he should kill
some one in a duel, he would have two months of imprisonment only. He
despises the English as a nation of merchants. The old German knights
seem to be his models. With these barbarous opinions, he seems to be
personally an amiable and estimable man. Despises University education,
in whose course he might have come in contact with the son of a
carpenter, or small shopkeeper--he himself went to a Gymnase, with sons
of gentlemen...."
"Everything in the Junkerschaft[80] bristles for another war. Oscar von
Rabé's room, in which I now write, contains only books of military
drill.
[80] The Prussian aristocracy.
"This day we visited the schoolhouse--session over, air of the room
perfectly fetid. Schoolmaster, whom we did not see, a Pole--his sister
could speak no German. Tattered primers in German. Visited the Jew, who
keeps the only shop in Lesnian. Found a regular country assortment. He
very civil. _Gasthaus_ opposite, a shanty, with a beer-glass, coffee-cup
and saucer rudely painted on its whitewashed boards. Shoemaker in a damp
hovel, with mahogany furniture, quite handsome. He made me a salaam with
both hands raised to his head."
"We went to call upon Herr von Rohr, at Schenskowkhan--an extensive
estate. I had put on my Cheney silk and my bonnet as a great parade.
Our host showed us his house, his books and engravings--he has several
etchings by Rembrandt. Herr von Mechlenberg, public librarian of
Königsberg, a learned little old man, trotted round with us. We had
coffee and waffles. Mechlenberg considers the German tongue a very
ancient one, an original language, not patched up like French and
English, of native dialects mingled with Latin."
In one of her letters to the Chicago "Tribune" is a significant passage
written from Lesnian:--
"Having seen in one of the Dantzig papers the announcement that a
certain Professor Blank would soon deliver a lecture upon America,
showing the folly of headlong emigration thither and the ill fortune
which many have wrought for themselves thereby, one of us remarked to a
Dantziger that in such a lecture many untruths would probably be
uttered. Our friend replied, with a self-gratulatory laugh, 'Ah, Madame!
We Germans know all about the women of America. A German woman is
devoted to her household, its care and management; but the American
women all force their husbands to live in hotels in order that they may
have no trouble in housekeeping.'"
She was as sensitive to criticism of her country as some people are to
criticism of their friends. Throughout her stay in Germany she suffered
from the captious and provoking tone of the Prussian press about things
American.
Even in the churches she met this note of unfriendliness. She took the
trouble to transcribe in her Journal an absurd newspaper story.
"An American Woman of Business
"Some little time since, a man living near Niagara Falls had the
misfortune to fall from the bridge leading to Goat's Island. [Berlin
paper says _Grat_ Island.] He was immediately hurried to the edge of the
fearful precipice. Here, he was able to cling to a ledge of rock, and to
support himself for half an hour, until his unavoidable fate overtook
him. A compassionate and excited multitude rushed to the shore, and into
the house, where the unhappy wife was forced to behold the death
struggle of her husband, lost beyond all rescue, this spot yielding the
best view of the scene of horror. The 'excellent' wife had too much
coolness to allow this opportunity of making money to escape her, but
collected from every person present one dollar for window rent.
(Berliner _Fremdenblatt_, Sunday, August 26, 1877.)"
The stab was from a two-edged sword; she loved profoundly the great
German writers and composers. She was ever conscious of the debt she
owed to Germany's poets, philosophers, and musicians. Goethe had been
one of her earliest sources of inspiration, Kant her guide through many
troublous years; Beethoven was like some great friend whose hand had led
her along the heights, when her feet were bleeding from the stones of
the valley. These were the Germans she knew; her Germany was theirs. Now
she came in contact with this new _Junker_ Germany, this harsh,
military, unlovely country where Bismarck was the ruling spirit, and
Von Moltke the idol of the hour. It was a rough awakening for one who
had lived in the gentler Fatherland of Schiller and of Schubert.
"_August 31, Berlin._ Up early, and with carriage to see the review....
A great military display. The Emperor punctual at 10. '_Guten Morgen!_'
shouted the troops when he came. The Crown Princess on horseback with a
blue badge, Hussar cap. The kettle-drum man had his reins hitched, one
on either foot, guiding his horse in this way, and beating his drums
with both hands...."
The Crown Princess, later the Empress Frederick, daughter of Queen
Victoria, and mother of the present German Emperor, was the honorary
colonel of the hussar regiment whose uniform she wore, with the addition
of a plain black riding-skirt. Civilization owes this lady a debt that
cannot be paid save in grateful remembrance. During the Franco-Prussian
War she frequently telegraphed to the German officers commanding in
France, urging them to spare the works of art in the conquered country.
Through her efforts the studios of Rosa Bonheur and other famous
painters escaped destruction.
The early part of September was spent in Switzerland. Chamounix filled
the travellers with delight. They walked up the Brevant, rode to the Mer
de Glace on muleback. The great feature, however, of this visit to
Switzerland was the Geneva Congress, called by Mrs. Josephine Butler to
protest against the legalizing of vice in England.
"At the Congress to-day--spoke in French.... I spoke of the two sides,
active and passive, of human nature, and of the tendency of the
education given to women to exaggerate the passive side of their
character, whereby they easily fall victims to temptation. Spoke of the
exercise of the intellectual faculties as correcting these
tendencies--education of women in America--progress made. Coeducation
and the worthier relations it induces between young men and women. Said,
where society thinks little of women, it teaches them to think little of
themselves. Said of marriage, that Milton's doctrine, 'He for God only,
she for God in him,' was partial and unjust. '_Ce Dieu, il faut le
mettre entre les deux, de manière que chacun des deux appartienne
premièrement à Dieu, puis tous les deux l'un à l'autre._'"
"Wish to take up what Blank said to-day of the superiority of man. Woman
being created second. That is no mark of inferiority. Shall say, this
doctrine of inequality very dangerous. Inferior position, inferior
education, legal status, etc. Doctrine of morality quite opposite. If
wife patient and husband not, wife superior--if wife chaste, husband
not, wife superior. Each indispensable to each other, and to the whole.
Gentlemen, where would you have been if we had not cradled and tended
you?"
"_Congress...._ Just before the end of the meeting Mr. Stuart came to me
and said that Mrs. Butler wished me to speak for five minutes. After
some hesitation I said that I would try. Felt much annoyed at being
asked so late. Went up to the platform and did pretty well in French.
The audience applauded, laughing a little at some points. In fact, my
little speech was a decided success with the French-speaking part of the
audience. Two or three Englishwomen who understood very little of it
found fault with me for occasioning laughter. To the banquet...."
"_September 23._ This morning Mrs. Sheldon Ames and her brother came to
ask whether I would go to Germany on a special mission. Miss Bolte also
wished me to go to Baden Baden to see the Empress of Germany."
"_September 24._ A conference of Swiss and English women at 11 A.M. A
sister of John Stuart Mill spoke, like the other English ladies, in very
bad French. '_Nous femmes_' said she repeatedly. She seemed a good
woman, but travelled far from the subject of the meeting, which was the
work to be done to carry out what the Congress had suggested. Mrs.
Blank, of Bristol, read a paper in the worst French I ever heard.
'_Ouvrager_' for '_travailler_' was one of her mistakes."
In spite of some slight criticisms on the management of this Congress,
she was heart and soul in sympathy with its object; and until the last
day of her life, never ceased to battle for the higher morality which at
all costs protests against the legalizing of vice.
Before leaving Geneva she writes:--
"To Ferney in omnibus. The little church with its inscription '_Deo
erexit Voltaire_,' and the date.... I remember visiting Ferney with dear
Chev; remember that he did not wish me to see the model [of Madame Du
Châtelet's monument] lest it should give me gloomy thoughts about my
condition--she died in childbirth, and the design represents her with
her infant bursting the tomb."
October found the travellers in Paris, the elder still intent on affairs
of study and reform, the younger grasping eagerly at each new wonder or
beauty.
There were meetings of the Academy of Fine Arts, the Institute of
France, the Court of Assizes: teachers' meetings, too, and dinners with
deaconesses (whom she found a pleasant combination of cheerfulness and
gravity), and with friends who took her to the theatre.
"To Palais de Justice. Court of Assizes--a young man to be condemned for
an offence against a girl of ten or twelve, and then to be tried for
attempt to kill his brother and brother-in-law....
"We were obliged to leave before the conclusion of the trial, but
learned that its duration was short, ending in a verdict of guilty, and
sentence of death. In the days that followed our thoughts often visited
this unfortunate man in his cell, so young, apparently without
friends--his nearest relatives giving evidence against him, and, in
fact, bringing the suit that cost his life. It seems less than Mosaic
justice to put a man to death for a murder which, though attempted, was
not actually committed. A life for a life is the old doctrine. This is a
life for an attempt upon a life."
An essay on Paris, written soon after, recalls further memories. She
visited the French Parliament, and was surprised at the noise and
excitement which prevailed.
"The presiding officer agitates his bell again and again, to no purpose.
He constantly cries, in piteous tone: 'Gentlemen, a little silence, if
you please.'"
She tells how "one of the ushers with great pride pointed out Victor
Hugo in his seat," and says further:
"I have seen this venerable man of letters several times,--once in his
own house.... We were first shown into an anteroom, and presently into a
small drawing-room. The venerable viscount kissed my hand ... with the
courtesy belonging to other times. He was of middle height, reasonably
stout. His eyes were dark and expressive, and his hair and beard were
snow-white. Several guests were present.... Victor Hugo seated himself
alone upon a sofa, and talked to no one. While the rest of the company
kept up a desultory conversation, a servant announced M. Louis Blanc,
and our expectations were raised only to be immediately lowered, for at
this announcement Victor Hugo arose and withdrew into another room, from
which we were able to hear the two voices in earnest conversation...."
"_November 27._ Packing to leave Paris to-night for Turin. The blanks
left in my diary do not mark idle days. I have been exceedingly busy,
... have written at least five newspaper letters, and some other
correspondence. Grieved this morning over the time wasted at shop
windows, in desiring foolish articles which I could not afford to buy,
especially diamonds, which I do not need for my way of life. Yet I have
had more good from my stay in Paris than this empty Journal would
indicate. Have seen many earnest men and women--have delivered a lecture
in French--have started a club of English and American women students,
for which _Deo gratias!_ Farewell, dear Paris, God keep and save thee!"
She mentions this club in the "Reminiscences." "I found in Paris a
number of young women, students of art and medicine, who appeared to
lead very isolated lives and to have little or no acquaintance with one
another. The need of a point of social union for these young people
appearing to me very great, I invited a few of them to meet me at my
lodgings. After some discussion we succeeded in organizing a small club,
which, I am told, still exists.... [If we are not mistaken, this small
club was a mustard seed which in time grew into the goodly tree of the
American Girls' Club.] I was invited several times to speak while in
Paris.... I spoke in French without notes.... Before leaving Paris I was
invited to take part in a congress of woman's rights. It was deemed
proper to elect two presidents for this occasion, and I had the honor of
being chosen as one of them....
"Somewhat in contrast with these sober doings was a ball given by the
artist Healy at his residence. I had told Mrs. Healy in jest that I
should insist upon dancing with her husband. Soon after my entrance she
said to me, 'Mrs. Howe, your quadrille is ready for you. See what
company you are to have.' I looked and beheld General Grant and M.
Gambetta, who led out Mrs. Grant, while her husband had Mrs. Healy for
his partner in the quadrille of honor.... Marshal MacMahon was at this
time President of the French Republic. I attended an evening reception
given by him in honor of General and Mrs. Grant. Our host was supposed
to be at the head of the Bonapartist faction, and I heard some rumors of
an intended _coup d'état_ which should bring back imperialism and place
Plon-Plon [the nickname for Prince Napoleon] on the throne.... I
remember Marshal MacMahon as a man of medium height, with no very
distinguishing feature. He was dressed in uniform and wore many
decorations."
During this visit to Paris, our mother consorted largely with the men
and women she had met at the Geneva Congress. She takes leave of Paris
with these words: "Better than the filled trunk and empty purse, which
usually mark a return from Paris, will be a full heart and a hand
clasping across the water another hand pure and resolute as itself."
The two comrades journeyed southward by way of Turin, Milan, and Verona.
Of the last place the Journal says:--
"Busy in Verona--first, amphitheatre, with its numerous cells, those of
the wild beasts wholesomely lighted and aired, those of the prisoners,
dark and noisome and often without light of any kind.... Then to the
tombs of the Scaligers--grim and beautiful. Can Signoria who killed his
brother was the last. Can Grande, Dante's host."
In Verona she was full of visions of the great poet whose exile she
describes in the poem called, "The Price of the Divina Commedia." One
who met her there remembers the extraordinary vividness of her
impressions. It was as if she had seen and talked with Dante, had heard
from his own lips how hard it was to eat the salt and go up and down the
stairs of others.
From Verona to Venice, thence to Bologna. Venice was an old friend
always revisited with delight. Bologna was new to her; here she found
traces of the notable women of its past. In the University she was shown
the recitation room where the beautiful female professor of anatomy is
said to have given her lectures from behind a curtain, in order that the
students' attention should not be distracted from her words of wisdom by
her beauty. In the picture gallery she found out the work of Elisabetta
Sirani, one of the good painters of the Bolognese school.
And now, after twenty-seven years, her road led once more to Rome.
CHAPTER II
A ROMAN WINTER
1878-1879; _aet._ 59-60
JANUARY 9, 1878
A voice of sorrow shakes the solemn pines
Within the borders of the Apennines;
A sombre vision veils the evening red,
A shuddering whisper says: the King is dead.
Low lies he near the throne
That strange desert and fortune made his own;
And at his life's completion, from his birth
In one fair record, men recount his worth.
Chief of the Vatican!
Heir of the Peter who his Lord denied,
Not of the faith which that offence might hide,
Boast not, "I live, while he is coldly laid."
Say rather, in the jostling mortal race
He first doth look on the All-father's face.
Life's triple crown absolved weareth he,
Clear Past, sad Present, fond Futurity.
J. W. H.
The travellers arrived in Rome in good time for the Christmas dinner at
Palazzo Odescalchi, where they found the Terrys and Marion Crawford. On
December 31 our mother writes:--
"The last day of a year whose beginning found me full of work and
fatigue. Beginning for me in a Western railway car, it ends in a Roman
palace--a long stretch of travel lying between. Let me here record that
this year has brought me much good and pleasure, as well as some
regrets. My European tour was undertaken for dear Maud's sake. It took
me away from the dear ones at home, and from opportunities of work
which I should have prized highly. I was President of the Woman's
Congress, and to be absent not only from its meeting, but also from its
preparatory work, caused me great regret. On the other hand, I saw
delightful people in England, and have seen, besides the old remembered
delights, many places which I never visited before.... I am now with my
dear sister, around whom the shadows of existence deepen. I am glad to
be with her; though I can do so little for her, she is doing very much
for me."
This was a season of extraordinary interest to one who had always loved
Italy and pleaded for a generous policy toward her. Early in January it
became known that King Victor Emanuel was dying. At the Vatican his
life-long adversary Pius IX was wasting away with a mortal disease. It
was a time of suspense. The two had fought a long and obstinate duel:
which of them, people asked, would yield first to the conqueror on the
pale horse? There were those among the "Blacks" of Rome who would have
denied the last sacrament to the dying King. "No!" said Pio Nono; "he
has always been a good Catholic; he shall not die without the
sacrament!" On the 9th of January the King died, and "the ransomed land
mourned its sovereign as with one heart."[81]
[81] _Reminiscences_, p. 423.
"_January 12._ Have just been to see the new King [Umberto I] review the
troops, and receive the oath of allegiance from the army. The King's
horse was a fine light sorrel--he in full uniform, with light blue
trousers. In Piazza del Independenza. We at the American Consulate. Much
acclamation and waving of handkerchiefs. Went at 5 in the afternoon to
see the dead King lying in state. His body was shown set on an inclined
plane, the foreshortening disfigured his poor face dreadfully, making
his heavy moustache to look as if it were his eyebrows. Behind him a
beautiful ermine canopy reached nearly to the ceiling--below him the
crown and sceptre on a cushion. Castellani's beautiful gold crown is to
be buried with him."
She says of the funeral:--
"The monarch's remains were borne in a crimson coach of state, drawn by
six horses. His own favorite war-horse followed, veiled in crape, the
stirrups holding the King's boots and spurs, turned backward. Nobles and
servants of great houses in brilliant costumes, bareheaded, carrying in
their hands lighted torches of wax.... As the cortège swept by, I
dropped my tribute of flowers.[82]..."
[82] _Reminiscences_, p. 423.
"_January 19._ To Parliament, to see the mutual taking of oaths between
the new King and the Parliament. Had difficulty in getting in. Sat on
carpeted stair near Mrs. Carson. Queen came at two in the afternoon. Sat
in a loggia ornamented with red velvet and gold. Her entrance much
applauded. With her the little Prince of Naples,[83] her son; the Queen
of Portugal, her sister-in-law; and Prince of Portugal, son of the
latter. The King entered soon after two--he took the oath standing
bareheaded, then signed some record of it. The oath was then
administered to Prince Amadeo and Prince de Carignan, then in
alphabetical order to the Senate and afterwards to the Deputies."
[83] The present King, Victor Emanuel III.
A month later, Pio Nono laid down the burden of his years. She says of
this:--
"Pope Pius IX had reigned too long to be deeply mourned by his spiritual
subjects, one of whom remarked in answer to condolence, 'I should think
he had lived long enough!'"
The winter passed swift as a dream, though not without anxieties. Roman
fever was then the bane of American travellers, and while she herself
suffered only from a slight indisposition, Maud was seriously ill. There
was no time for her Journal, but some of the impressions of that
memorable season are recorded in verse.
Sea, sky, and moon-crowned mountain, one fair world,
Past, Present, Future, one Eternity.
Divine and human and informing soul,
The mystic Trine thought never can resolve.
One of the great pleasures of this Roman visit was the presence of her
nephew Francis Marion Crawford. He was then twenty-three years old, and
extremely handsome; some people thought him like the famous bas-relief
of Antinous at the Villa Albano. The most genial and companionable of
men, he devoted himself to his aunt and was her guide to the
_trattoria_ where Goethe used to dine, to Tasso's Oak, to the
innumerable haunts dedicated to the poets of every age, who have left
their impress on the Eternal City.
Our mother always loved acting. Her nearest approach to a professional
appearance took place this winter. Madame Ristori was in Rome, and had
promised to read at an entertainment in aid of some charity. She chose
for her selection the scene from "Maria Stuart" where the unhappy Queen
of Scots meets Elizabeth and after a fierce altercation triumphs over
her. At the last moment the lady who was to impersonate Elizabeth fell
ill. What was to be done? Some one suggested, "Mrs. Howe!" The
"Reminiscences" tell how she was "pressed into the service," and how the
last rehearsal was held while the musical part of the entertainment was
going on. "Madame Ristori made me repeat my part several times,
insisting that my manner was too reserved and would make hers appear
extravagant. I did my best to conform to her wishes, and the reading was
duly applauded."[84]
[84] _Reminiscences_, p. 425.
Another performance was arranged in which Madame Ristori gave the
sleep-walking scene from "Macbeth." The question arose as to who should
take the part of the attendant.
"Why not your sister?" said Ristori to Mrs. Terry. "No one could do it
better!"
In the spring, the travellers made a short tour in southern Italy. One
memory of it is given in the following verses:--
NEAR AMALFI
Hurry, hurry, little town,
With thy labor up and down.
Clang the forge and roll the wheels,
Spring the shuttle, twirl the reels.
Hunger comes.
Every woman with her hand
Shares the labor of the land;
Every child the burthen bears,
And the soil of labor wears.
Hunger comes.
In the shops of wine and oil
For the scanty house of toil;
Give just measure, housewife grave,
Thrifty shouldst thou be, and brave.
Hunger comes.
Only here the blind man lags,
Here the cripple, clothed with rags.
Such a motley Lazarus
Shakes his piteous cap at us.
Hunger comes.
Oh! could Jesus pass this way
Ye should have no need to pray.
He would go on foot to see
All your depths of misery.
Succor comes.
He would smooth your frowzled hair,
He would lay your ulcers bare,
He would heal as only can
Soul of God in heart of man.
Jesus comes.
Ah! my Jesus! still thy breath
Thrills the world untouched of death.
Thy dear doctrine showeth me
Here, God's loved humanity
Whose kingdom comes.
The summer was spent in France; in November they sailed for Egypt.
"_November 27, Egypt._ Land early this morning--a long flat strip at
first visible. Then Arabs in a boat came on board. Then began a scene of
unparalleled confusion, in the midst of which Cook's Arabian agent found
me and got my baggage--helping us all through quietly, and with great
saving of trouble.... A drive to see Pompey's Pillar and obelisk. A walk
through the bazaar. Heat very oppressive. Delightful drive in the
afternoon to the Antonayades garden and villa.... Mr. Antonayades was
most hospitable, gave us great bouquets, and a basket of fruit."
"_Cairo._ Walked out. A woman swung up and down in a box is
brown-washing the wall of the hotel. She was drawn up to the top, quite
a height, and gradually let down. Her dress was a dirty blue cotton
gown, and under that a breech-cloth of dirty sackcloth. We were to have
had an audience from the third Princess[85] this afternoon, and were
nearly dressed for the palace when we were informed that the reception
would take place to-morrow, when there will be a general reception, it
being the first day of Bairam. Visit on donkey-back to the bazaars, and
gallop; sunset most beautiful."
[85] The favorite wife of the Khedive.
"Up early, and all agog for the palace. I wore my black velvet and all
my [few] diamonds, also a white bonnet made by Julia McAllister[86] and
trimmed with her lace and Miss Irwin's white lilacs. General Stone sent
his carriage with _sais_ richly dressed. Reception was at Abdin
Palace--row of black eunuchs outside, very grimy in aspect. Only women
inside--dresses of bright pink and yellow satin, of orange silk, blue,
lilac, white satin. Lady in waiting in blue silk and diamonds. In the
hall they made us sit down, and brought us cigarettes in gilt saucers.
We took a whiff, then went to the lady in waiting who took us into the
room where the three princesses were waiting to receive us. They shook
hands with us and made us sit down, seating themselves also. First and
second Princesses on a sofa, I at their right in a fauteuil, on my left
the third Princess. First in white brocaded satin, pattern very bright,
pink flowers with green leaves. Second wore a Worth dress of corn
brocade, trimmed with claret velvet; third in blue silk. All in
stupendous diamonds. Chibouks brought which reached to the floor. We
smoke, I poorly,--mine was badly lighted,--an attendant in satin brought
a fresh coal and then the third Princess told me it was all right.
Coffee in porcelain cups, the stands all studded with diamonds.
Conversation rather awkward. Carried on by myself and the third
Princess, who interpreted to the others. Where should we go from Cairo?
Up the Nile, in January to Constantinople."
[86] A cousin who was of the party.
"Achmed took me to see the women dance, in a house where a wedding is
soon to take place. Dancing done by a one-eyed woman in purple and gold
brocade--house large, but grimy with dirt and neglect. Men all in one
room, women in another--several of them one-eyed, the singer blind--only
instruments the earthenware drum and castanets worn like rings on the
upper joints of the fingers. Arab café--the story-teller, the
one-stringed violin...."
"To the ball at the Abdin Palace. The girls looked charmingly. Maud
danced all the night. The Khedive[87] made me quite a speech. He is a
short, thickset man, looking about fifty, with grizzled hair and beard.
He wore a fez, Frank dress, and a star on his breast. Tewfik Pasha, his
son and heir, was similarly dressed. Consul Farman presented me to both
of them. The suite of rooms is very handsome, but this is not the finest
of the Khedive's palaces. Did not get home much before four in the
morning. In the afternoon had visited the mosque of Sultan Abdul
Hassan...."
[87] Ismail Pasha.
After Cairo came a trip up the Nile, with all its glories and
discomforts. Between marvel and marvel she read Herodotus and Mariette
Bey assiduously.
"_Christmas Day._ Cool wind. Native _reis_ of the boat has a brown
woollen capote over his blue cotton gown, the hood drawn over his
turban. A Christmas service. Rev. Mr. Stovin, English, read the lessons
for the day and the litany. We sang 'Nearer, my God, to Thee,' and
'Hark, the herald angels sing.' It was a good little time. My thoughts
flew back to Theodore Parker, who loved this [first] hymn, and in whose
'meeting' I first heard it. Upper deck dressed with palms--waiters in
their best clothes...."
"To-day visited Assiout, where we arrived soon after ten in the morning.
Donkey-ride delightful, visit to the bazaar. Two very nice youths found
us out, pupils of the American Mission. One of these said, 'I also am
Christianity.' Christian pupils more than one hundred. Several Moslem
pupils have embraced Christianity.... This morning had a very sober
season, lying awake before dawn, and thinking over this extravagant
journey, which threatens to cause me serious embarrassment."
And again:--
"The last day of a year in which I have enjoyed many things, wonderful
new sights and impressions, new friends. I have not been able to do much
useful work, but hope to do better work hereafter for what this year has
shown me. Still, I have spoken four times in public, each time with
labor and preparation--and have advocated the causes of woman's
education, equal rights and equal laws for men and women. My heart
greatly regrets that I have not done better, during these twelve months.
Must always hope for the new year."
The record of the new year (1879) begins with the usual aspirations:--
"May every minute of this year be improved by me! This is too much to
hope, but not too much to pray for. And I determine this year to pass no
day without actual prayer, the want of which I have felt during the year
just past. Busy all day, writing, washing handkerchiefs, and reading
Herodotus."
On January 2, she "visited Blind School with General Stone--Osny
Effendi, Principal. Many trades and handicrafts--straw matting,
boys--boys and girls weaving at hand loom--girls spinning wool and
flax, crochet and knitting--a lesson in geography. Turning lathe--bought
a cup of rhinoceros horn."
On January 4 she is "sad to leave Egypt--dear beautiful country!"
"_Jerusalem, January 5._ I write in view of the Mount of Olives, which
glows in the softest sunset light, the pale moon showing high in the
sky. Christ has been here--here--has looked with his bodily eyes on this
fair prospect. The thought ought to be overpowering--is inconceivable."
"_January 9._ In the saddle by half past eight in the morning. Rode two
hours, to Bethlehem. Convent--Catholic. Children at the school. Boy with
a fine head, Abib. In the afternoon mounted again and rode in sight of
the Dead Sea. Mountains inexpressibly desolate and grand. Route very
rough, and in some places rather dangerous.... Grotto of the
Nativity--place of the birth--manger where the little Christ was laid.
Tomb of St. Jerome. Tombs of two ladies who were friends of the Saint.
Later the plains of Boaz, which also [is] that where the shepherds heard
the angels. Encamped at Marsaba. Greek convent near by receives men
only. An old monk brought some of the handiwork of the brethren for
sale. I bought a stamp for flat cakes, curiously cut in wood. We dined
luxuriously, having a saloon tent and an excellent cook.... Good beds,
but I lay awake a good deal with visions of death from the morrow's
ride."
"_January 10._ [In camp in the desert near Jericho.] 'Shoo-fly'[88]
waked us at half past five banging on a tin pan and singing 'Shoo-fly.'
We rose at once and I felt my terrors subside. Felt that only prayer and
trust in God could carry me through. We were in the saddle by seven
o'clock and began our perilous crossing of the hills which lead to the
Dead Sea. Scenery inexpressibly grand and desolate. Some frightful bits
of way--narrow bridle paths up and down very steep places, in one place
a very narrow ridge to cross, with precipices on either side. I prayed
constantly and so felt uplifted from the abjectness of animal fear.
After a while we began to have glimpses of the Dead Sea, which is
beautifully situated, shut in by high hills, quite blue in color. After
much mental suffering and bodily fatigue on my part we arrived at the
shores of the sea. Here we rested for half an hour, and I lay stretched
on the sands which were very clean and warm! Remounted and rode to
Jordan. Here, I had to be assisted by two men [they lifted her bodily
out of the saddle and laid her on the ground] and lay on my shawl,
eating my luncheon in this attitude. Fell asleep here. Could not stop
long enough to touch the water. We rested in the shade of a clump of
bushes, near the place where the baptism of Christ is supposed to have
taken place. Our cans were filled with water from this sacred stream,
and I picked up a little bit of hollow reed, the only souvenir I could
find. Remounted and rode to Jericho. Near the banks of the Jordan we met
a storm of locusts, four-winged creatures which annoyed our horses and
flew in our faces. John the Baptist probably ate such creatures.
Afternoon ride much better as to safety, but very fatiguing. Reached
Jericho just after sunset, a beautiful camping-ground. After dinner, a
Bedouin dance, very strange and fierce. Men and women stood in a
semicircle, lighted by a fire of dry thorns. They clapped their hands
and sang, or rather murmured, in a rhythm which changed from time to
time. A chief danced before them, very gracefully, threatening them with
his sword, with which he played very skilfully. They sometimes went on
their knees as if imploring him to spare them. He came twice to our tent
and waved the sword close to our heads, saying, '_Taih backsheesh_.' The
dance was like an Indian war-dance--the chief made a noise just like the
war-whoop of our Indians. The dance lasted half an hour. The chief got
his backsheesh and the whole troop departed. Lay down and rested in
peace, knowing that the dangerous part of our journey was over."
[88] A negro attendant.
"_In Camp in the Desert. January 11._ In the saddle by half past seven.
Rode round the site of ancient Jericho, of which nothing remains but
some portions of the king's highway. Ruins of a caravanserai, which is
said to be the inn where the good Samaritan lodged his patient. Stopped
for rest and luncheon, at Beth--and proceeded to Bethany, where we
visited the tomb of Lazarus. I did not go in--then rode round the Mount
of Olives and round the walls of Jerusalem, arriving at half past three
in the afternoon. I became very stiff in my knees, could hardly be
mounted on my horse, and suffered much pain from my knee and abrasions
of the skin caused by the saddle. Did not get down at the tomb of
Lazarus because I could not have descended the steps which led to it,
and could not have got on my horse again. When we reached our hotel, I
could not step without help, and my strength was quite exhausted. I say
to all tourists, avoid Cook's dreadful hurry, and to all women, avoid
Marsaba! This last day, we often met little troops of Bedouins
travelling on donkeys--sometimes carrying with them their cattle and
household goods. I saw a beautiful white and black lamb carried on a
donkey. Met three Bedouin horsemen with long spears. One of these
stretched his spear across the way almost touching my face, for a joke."
"_Jerusalem. Sunday, January 12._ English service. Communion,
interesting here where the rite was instituted. I was very thankful for
this interesting opportunity."
"_January 15._ Mission hospital and schools in the morning. Also
Saladin's horse. Wailing place of the Jews and some ancient synagogues.
In the afternoon walked to Gethsemane and ascended the Mount of Olives.
In the first-named place, sang one verse of our hymn, 'Go to dark
Gethsemane.' Got some flowers and olive leaves...."
After Jerusalem came Jaffa, where she delivered an address to a "circle"
at a private house. She says:--
"In Jaffa of the Crusaders, Joppa of Peter and Paul, I find an American
Mission School, kept by a worthy lady from Rhode Island. Prominent among
its points of discipline is the clean-washed face, which is so enthroned
in the prejudices of Western civilization. One of her scholars, a youth
of unusual intelligence, finding himself clean, observes himself to be
in strong contrast with his mother's hovel, in which filth is just kept
clear of fever point. 'Why this dirt?' quoth he; 'that which has made me
clean will cleanse this also.' So without more ado, the process of
scrubbing is applied to the floor, without regard to the danger of so
great a novelty. This simple fact has its own significance, for if the
innovation of soap and water can find its way to a Jaffa hut, where can
the ancient, respectable, conservative dirt-devil feel himself secure?"
Apropos of mission work (in which she was a firm believer), she loved to
tell how one day in Jerusalem she was surrounded by a mob of beggars,
unwashed and unsavory, clamoring for money, till she was well-nigh
bewildered. Suddenly there appeared a beautiful youth in spotless white,
who scattered the mob, took her horse's bridle, and in good English
offered to lead her to her hotel. It was as if an angel had stepped into
the narrow street.
"Who are you, dear youth?" she cried.
"I am a Christian!" was the reply.
In parting she says, "Farewell, Holy Land! Thank God that I have seen
and felt it! All good come to it!"
From Palestine the way led to Cyprus ("the town very muddy and bare of
all interest") and Smyrna, thence to Constantinople. Here she visited
Robert College with great delight. Returning, she saw the "Sultan going
to Friday's prayers. A melancholy, frightened-looking man, pale, with a
large, face-absorbing nose...."
"_February 3._ Early at Piræus. Kalopothakis[89] met us there, coming on
board.... To Athens by carriage. Acropolis as beautiful as ever. It
looks small after the Egyptian temples, and of course more modern--still
very impressive...."
[89] A Greek Protestant minister.
Athens, with its welcoming faces of friends, seemed almost homelike
after the Eastern journeyings. The Journal tells of sight-seeing for the
benefit of the younger traveller, and of other things beside.
"Called on the _Grande Maîtresse_ at the Palace in order to have cards
for the ball. Saw the Schliemann relics from Mycenæ, and the wonderful
marbles gathered in the Museum. Have been writing something about these.
To ball at the palace in my usual sober rig, black velvet and so forth.
Queen very gracious to us.... Home by three in the morning."
"_February 12._ At ten in the morning came a committee of Cretan
officers of the late insurrection, presenting a letter through Mr.
Rainieri, himself a Cretan, expressing the gratitude of the Cretans to
dear Papa for his efforts in their behalf.... Mr. Rainieri made a
suitable address in French--to which I replied in the same tongue.
Coffee and cordial were served. The occasion was of great interest....
In the afternoon spoke at Mrs. Felton's of the Advancement of Women as
promoted by association. An American dinner of perhaps forty, nearly all
women, Greek, but understanding English. A good occasion. To party at
Madame Schliemann's."
"_February 15._ Miserable with a cold. A confused day in which nothing
seemed to go right. Kept losing sight of papers and other things. Felt
as if God could not have made so bad a day--my day after all; I made
it."
"_February 18._ To ball at the Palace. King took Maud out in the
German."
"_February 21._ The day for eating the roast lamb with the Cretan
chiefs. Went down to the Piræus warmly wrapped up.... Occasion most
interesting. Much speech-making and toasting. I mentioned Felton."
"_February 22._ Dreadful day of departure. Packed steadily but with
constant interruptions. The Cretans called upon me to present their
photographs and take leave. Tried a poem, failed. Had black
coffee--tried another--succeeded...."
"_February 23._ Sir Henry Layard, late English minister to the Porte, is
on board. Talked Greek at dinner--beautiful evening--night as rough as
it could well be. Little sleep for any of us. Glad to see that Lord
Hartington has spoken in favor of the Greeks, censuring the English
Government."
"_February 26...._ Sir Henry Layard and I _tête-à-tête_ on deck, looking
at the prospect--he coveting it, no doubt, for his rapacious country, I
coveting it for liberty and true civilization."
The spring was spent in Italy. In May they came to London.
"_May 29._ Met Mr. William Speare.... He told me of his son's death, and
of that of William Lloyd Garrison. Gallant old man, unique and enviable
in reputation and character. Who, oh! who can take his place? 'Show us
the Father.'"
The last weeks of the London visit were again too full for any adequate
account of them to find its way into her letters or journals. She
visited London once more in later years, but this was her last long
stay. She never forgot the friends she made there, and it was one of the
many day-dreams she enjoyed that she should return for another London
season. Sometimes after reading the account of the gay doings chronicled
in the London "World," which Edmund Yates sent her as long as he lived,
she would cry out, "O! for a whiff of London!" or, "My dear, we must
have another London season before I die!"
CHAPTER III
NEWPORT
1879-1882; _aet._ 60-63
A THOUGHT FOR WASHING DAY
The clothes-line is a Rosary
Of household help and care;
Each little saint the Mother loves
Is represented there.
And when across her garden plot
She walks, with thoughtful heed,
I should not wonder if she told
Each garment for a bead.
* * * * *
A stranger passing, I salute
The Household in its wear,
And smile to think how near of kin
Are love and toil and prayer.
J. W. H.
July, 1879, found our mother at home at Oak Glen, unpacking trunks and
reading a book on the Talmud. She had met the three married daughters in
Boston ("We talked incessantly for seven hours," says the Journal), and
Florence and Maud accompanied her to Newport, where Florence had
established her summer nursery. There were three Hall grandchildren now,
and they became an important factor in the life at Oak Glen. All through
the records of these summer days runs the patter of children's feet.
She kept only one corner of the house for her private use; a room with
the north light which she then thought essential. This was at once
bedroom and workroom: she never had a separate study or library. Here,
as in Green Peace days, she worked quietly and steadily. Children and
grandchildren might fill the house, might have everything it contained:
she asked only for her "precious time." When she could not have an hour
she took half an hour, a quarter, ten minutes. No fragment of time was
too small for her to save, to invest in study or in work; and as her
mind concentrated instantly on the subject in hand, no such fragment was
wasted. The rule of mind over body was relentless: sick or well, she
must finish her stint before the day closed.
This summer of 1879 was a happy one. After the feverish months of travel
and pleasure, her delight in the soft Newport climate was deeper than
ever. She always felt the change from the air of the mainland to that of
the island, and never crossed the bridge from Tiverton to Bristol Ferry
without an exclamation of pleasure. She used to say that the soft, cool
air of Newport smoothed out the tired, tangled nerves "like a silver
comb"!
"_July 29._ To my Club, where, better than any ovation, an affectionate
greeting awaited me.... Thucydides is very difficult."
This was the Town and Country Club, for some years a great interest to
her. In her "Reminiscences" she tells how in a summer of the late
sixties or early seventies, when Bret Harte and Dr. J. G. Holland,
Professors Lane and Goodwin of Harvard were spending the season at
Newport: "A little band of us combined to improve the beautiful summer
season by picnics, sailing parties, and household soirées, in all of
which these brilliant literary lights took part. Helen Hunt and Kate
Field were often of our company, and Colonel Higginson was always with
us."
* * * * *
Among the frolics of that summer was the mock Commencement, arranged by
her and Professor Lane.
"I acted as President, Colonel Higginson as my aide; we both marched up
the aisle in Oxford caps and gowns. I opened the proceedings by an
address in Latin, Greek, and English; and when I turned to Colonel
Higginson and called him '_fili mihi dilectissime_,' he wickedly replied
with three bows of such comic gravity that I almost gave way to
unbecoming laughter. Not long before this he had published a paper on
the Greek goddesses. I therefore assigned as his theme the problem, 'How
to sacrifice an Irish bull to a Greek goddess.' Colonel George Waring,
the well-known engineer, being at that time in charge of a valuable farm
in the neighborhood, was invited to discuss 'Social small potatoes: how
to enlarge their eyes.' An essay on rhinoscopy was given by Fanny Fern,
the which I, chalk in hand, illustrated on the blackboard by the
following equation:--
"Nose + nose + nose = proboscis.
Nose - nose - nose = snub.
"A class was called upon for recitations from Mother Goose in seven
different languages. At the head of this Professor Goodwin honored us
with a Greek version of the 'Man in the Moon.' A recent Harvard
graduate, Dr. Gorham Bacon, recited the following, also of her
composition:--
"'Heu iterum didulum,
Felis cum fidulum,
Vacca transiluit lunam,
Caniculus ridet,
Quum tale videt,
Et dish ambulavit cum spoonam.'
"The question being asked whether this last line was in strict
accordance with grammar, the scholar gave the following rule: 'The
conditions of grammar should always give way to the exigencies of
rhyme.'
"The delicious fooling of that unique summer was never repeated. Out of
it came, however, the more serious and permanent association known as
the Town and Country Club of Newport. I felt the need of upholding the
higher social ideals and of not leaving true culture unrepresented, even
in a summer watering-place."
With the help and advice of Professor and Mrs. William B. Rogers,
Colonel Higginson and Mr. Samuel Powell, a number of friends were called
together in the early summer of 1874 and she laid before them the plan
of the proposed club. After speaking of the growing predominance of the
gay and fashionable element in Newport society, she said:--
"But some things can be done as well as others. Newport ... has also
treasures which are still unexplored....
"The milliner and the mantua-maker bring here their costly goods and
tempt the eye with forms and colors. But the great artist, Nature, has
here merchandise far more precious, whose value and beauty are
understood by few of us. I remember once meeting a philosopher in a
jeweller's shop. The master of the establishment exhibited to us his
choicest wares, among others a costly diamond ornament. The philosopher
[we think it was Emerson] said, 'A violet is more beautiful.' I cannot
forget the disgust expressed in the jeweller's face at this remark."
She then outlined the course laid out by the "Friends in Council,"
lectures on astronomy, botany, natural history, all by eminent persons.
They would not expect the Club to meet them on their own ground. They
would come to that of their hearers, and would unfold to them what they
were able to understand.
Accordingly, Weir Mitchell discoursed to them on the Poison of Serpents,
John La Farge on the South Sea Islands, Alexander Agassiz on Deep-Sea
Dredging and the Panama Canal; while Mark Twain and "Hans Breitmann"
made merry, each in his own inimitable fashion.
The Town and Country Club had a long and happy career. No matter what
heavy work she might have on hand for the summer, no sooner arrived at
Newport than our mother called together her Governing Committee and
planned out the season's meetings.
It may have been for this Club that she wrote her "Parlor Macbeth," an
extravaganza in which she appeared as "the impersonation of the whole
Macbeth family."
In the prologue she says:--
"As it is often said and supposed that a woman is at the bottom of all
the mischief that is done under the sun, I appear and say that I am she,
that woman, the female fate of the Macbeth family."
In the monologue that follows, Lady Macbeth fairly lives before the
audience, and in amazing travesty relates the course of the drama.
She thus describes the visit of the weird sisters (the three Misses
Macbeth) who have been asked to contribute some of "their excellent
hell-broth and devilled articles" for her party.
"At 12 M., a rushing and bustling was heard, and down the kitchen
chimney tumbled the three weird sisters, finding everything ready for
their midnight operations.... 'That hussy of a Macbeth's wife leaves us
nothing to work with,' cried one. 'She makes double trouble for us.'
'Double trouble, double trouble,' they all cried and groaned in chorus,
and presently fell into a sort of trilogy of mingled prose and verse
which was enough to drive one mad.
'Where hast thou been?
Sticking pigs.
And where hast thou?
Why, curling wigs
Fit for a shake in German jigs
And hoo! carew! carew!'
* * * * *
"'We must have Hecate now, can't do without her. Throw the beans over
the broomstick and say boo!' And lo, Hecate comes, much like the others,
only rather more so....
"Now they began to work in good earnest. And they had brought with them
whole bottles of _sunophon_, and _sozodont_, and _rypophagon_, and
_hyperbolism_ and _consternaculum_, and a few others. And in the whole
went. And one stirred the great pot over the fire, while the others
danced around and sang--
"'Black pepper and red,
White pepper and grey,
Tingle, tingle, tingle, tingle,
Till it smarts all day.'
"'Here's dyspepsia! Here's your racking headache of a morning. Here's
podagra, and jaundice, and a few fits. And now it's done to a turn, and
the weird sisters have done what they could for the family.'
"A rumbling and tumbling and foaming was now heard in the chimney--the
bricks opened, and He-cat and She-cat and all the rest of them went up.
And I knew that my supper would be first-rate."
The time came when some of the other officers of the Town and Country
Club felt unable to keep the pace set by her. She would still press
forward, but they hung back, feeling the burden of the advancing years
which sat so lightly on her shoulders. The Club was disbanded; its fund
of one thousand dollars, so honorably earned, was given to the Redwood
Library, one of the old institutions of Newport.
The Town and Country Club was succeeded by the Papéterie, a smaller club
of ladies only, more intimate in its character. The exchange of "paper
novels" furnished its name and its _raison d'être_. The members were
expected to describe the books taken home from the previous meeting.
"What have you to tell us of the novel you have been reading?" the
president would demand. Then followed a report, serious or comic, as the
character of the volume or the mood of the meeting suggested. A series
of abbreviated criticisms was made and a glossary prepared: for
example,--
"B. P.--By the pound.
M. A. S.--May amuse somebody.
P. B.--Pot-boiler.
F. W. B.--For waste-basket.
U. I.--Uplifting influence.
W. D.--Wholly delightful.
U. T.--Utter trash."
The officers consisted of the Glossarian, the Penologist, whose duty it
was to invent penalties for delinquents, the Cor. Sec. and the Rec. Sec.
(corresponding and recording secretaries) and the Archivist, who had
charge of the archives. During its early years a novel was written by
the Club, each member writing one chapter. It still exists, and part of
the initiation of a new member consists in reading the manuscript. The
"delicious fooling" that marked the first year of the Town and Country
Club's existence was the animating spirit of the Papéterie. A friend
christened it "Mrs. Howe's Vaudeville." Merrymaking was her
safety-valve. Brain fag and nervous prostration were practically unknown
to her. When she had worked to the point of exhaustion, she turned to
play. Fun and frolic went along with labor and prayer; the power of
combining these kept her steadily at her task till the end of her life.
The last time she left her house, six days before her death, it was to
preside at the Papéterie, where she was as usual the life of the
meeting! The Club still lives, and, like the New England Woman's Club,
seems still pervaded by her spirit.
The Clubs did not have all the fun. The Newport "Evening Express" of
September 2, 1881, says: "Mrs. Julia Ward Howe has astonished Newport by
her acting in 'False Colors.' But she always was a surprising woman."
Another newspaper says: "The interest of the Newport world has been
divided this week between the amateur theatricals at the Casino and the
lawn tennis tournament. Two representations of the comedy of 'False
Colors' were given on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings.... The stars were
undoubtedly Mrs. Julia Ward Howe and Mr. Peter Marié, who brought down
the house by their brightness and originality.... Mr. Peter Marié gave a
supper on the last night of the performance, during which he proposed
the health of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe and the thanks of the company for her
valuable assistance. Mrs. Howe's reply was very bright and apt, and her
playful warnings of the dangers of sailing under false colors were fully
appreciated."
It is remembered that of all the gay company she was the only one who
was letter-perfect in her part.
To return to 1879. She preached many times this summer in and around
Newport.
"_Sunday, September 28._ Hard at work. Could not look at my sermon until
this day. Corrected my reply to Parkman.[90] Had a very large audience
for the place--all seats full and benches put in."
[90] Francis Parkman had written an article opposing woman suffrage.
"My sermon at the Unitarian Church in Newport. A most unexpected crowd
to hear me."
"_September 29._ Busy with preparing the dialogue in 'Alice in
Wonderland' for the Town and Country Club occasion...."
Many entries begin with "hard at work," or "very busy all day."
This summer was made delightful by a visit from her sister Louisa, with
her husband[91] and daughter. Music formed a large part of the summer's
pleasure. The Journal tells of a visit from Timothée Adamowski which was
greatly enjoyed.
[91] Luther Terry, an American painter who had lived long in Rome, and
had been a close friend of Thomas Crawford. He survived his wife by some
years.
"_October 11._ Much delightful music. Adamowski has made a pleasant
impression upon all of us."
"_October 12, Sunday._ Sorry to say we made music all day. Looked hard
for Uncle Sam, who came not."
"_October 13._ Our delightful matinée. Adamowski and Daisy played
finely, he making a great sensation. I had the pleasure of accompanying
Adamowski in a Nocturne of Chopin's for violin and piano. All went well.
Our pleasure and fatigue were both great. The house looked charming."
In the autumn came a lecture tour, designed to recoup the heavy expenses
of the Eastern trip. Never skilful in matters of money-making, this tour
was undertaken with less preparation than the modern lecturer could well
imagine. She corresponded with one and another Unitarian clergyman and
arranged her lectures largely through them. Though she did not bring
back so much money as many less popular speakers, she was, after all,
her own mistress, and was not rushed through the country like a letter
by ambitious managers.
The Journal gives some glimpses of this trip.
"Twenty minutes to dress, sup, and get to the hall. Swallowed a cup of
tea and nibbled a biscuit as I dressed myself."
"Found the miserablest railroad hotel, where I waited all day for trunk,
in distress!... Had to lecture without either dress or manuscript. Mrs.
Blank hastily arrayed me in her black silk, and I had fortunately a few
notes."
She never forgot this lesson, and in all the thirty-odd years of
speaking and lecturing that remained, made it an invariable rule to
travel with her lecture and her cap and laces in her handbag. As she
grew older, the satchel grew lighter. She disliked all personal service,
and always wanted to carry her hand-luggage herself. The light palm-leaf
knapsack she brought from Santo Domingo was at the end replaced by a
net, the lightest thing she could find.
The Unitarian Church in Newport was second in her heart only to the
Church of the Disciples. The Reverend Charles T. Brooks, the pastor, was
her dear friend. In the spring of 1880 a Channing memorial celebration
was held in Newport, for which she wrote a poem. She sat on the platform
near Mr. Emerson, heard Dr. Bellows's discourse on Channing, "which was
exhaustive, and as it lasted two hours, exhausting." The exercises, W.
H. Channing's eulogium, etc., etc., lasted through the day and evening,
and in the intervals between addresses she was "still retouching" her
poem, which came last of all. "A great day!" says the Journal.
"_July 23._ Very busy all day. Rainy weather. In the evening I had a
mock meeting, with burlesque papers, etc. I lectured on _Ism-Is-not-m_,
on _Asm-spasm-plasm_."
"_July 24._ Working hard, as usual. Marionettes at home in the evening.
Laura had written the text. Maud was Julius Cæsar; Flossy, Cassius;
Daisy, Brutus."
"_July 28._ Read my lecture on 'Modern Society' in the Hillside Chapel
at Concord.... The comments of Messrs. Alcott and W. H. Channing were
quite enough to turn a sober head."
"To the poorhouse and to Jacob Chase's with Joseph Coggeshall. Old
Elsteth, whom I remember these many years, died a few weeks ago. One of
the pauper women who has been there a long time told me that Elsteth
cried out that she was going to Heaven, and that she gave her, as a last
gift, a red handkerchief. Mrs. Anna Brown, whom I saw last year, died
recently. Her relatives are people in good position and ought to have
provided for her in her declining years. They came, in force, to her
funeral and had a very nice coffin for her. Took her body away for
burial. Such meanness needs no comment.
"Jacob was glad to see me. Asked after Maud and doubted whether she was
as handsome as I was when he first saw me (thirty or more years ago).
His wife said to me in those days: 'Jacob thinks thee's the only
good-looking woman in these parts.' She was herself a handsome woman and
a very sweet one. I wish I had known I was so good-looking."
Of the writing of letters there was no end. Correspondence was rather a
burden than a delight to her; yet, when all the "duty letters" were
written, she loved to take a fresh sheet and frolic with some one of her
absent children. Laura, being the furthest removed, received perhaps
more than her share of these letters; yet, as will appear from them, she
never had enough.
_To Laura_
OAK GLEN, October 10, 1880.
DEAREST, DEAREST L. E. R.,--
How I wonder how you R! Cause of silence not hardness of heart, but the
given necessity of scribbling for dear life, to finish a promised paper
for the Woman's Congress, _sedebit_ next week. I in Boston Wed., Thurs.,
and Fri.--day being understood. Mowski [Adamowski] left us yesterday
morning.... We had him here a fortnight, and enjoyed his visit
extremely. At table, between the courses, he played on every instrument
of the orchestra. I asked once for the bass drum, which he imitated,
adding thereunto the cymbals. We had a lunch party last week, for the
bride, Maud Appleton, and "invited quite fashionable," and after all
she didn't come. "Sick in bed with diphtheria." May by some be
considered an excuse, but then, it's very rude to be sick, and it's very
troublesome to other people. (This to make you feel badly about your own
shortcomings.) We had a little dance, too, on Friday evening. An omnibus
party came out and a few others. I pounded the Lancers and some ancient
waltzes and polkas, ending with the Virginia reel, in which last I
thought my floor would give way, the young men stamped so. I have no
paper left except some newspaper wrappers, so can't write any more. Got
up and found this scrap, then hunted for my pen, which, after some
search, I found in my mouth. This is what it is to be lit'ry. Oh, my! I
sometimes wish I wasn't!...
In October, while visiting Julia at the Institution, she missed her
footing and fell down the two steps leading to the dining-room, breaking
the ligaments of her knee. A letter to Laura makes the first mention of
this serious accident, whose effects she felt all her life.
OAK GLEN, November 9, 1880.
DEAREST LAURA CHILD,--
Behold the mum-jacket, sitting clothed and in her chair, confronting you
after long silence, with comforting words of recovery. I am now in the
fourth week of my infirmity, and I really think that the offending, or
rather offended, muscles have almost recovered their natural power of
contraction. My exercise is still restricted to a daily walk from my bed
in the small parlor to my chair in the large parlor, and back again.
But this walk, which at first was an impotent limp, with bones clicking
loosely, is now a very respectable performance, not on the tight rope,
indeed, but, let us say, on the tight garter.... The only break in the
general uniformity of my life was dear Uncle Sam's arrival on Sunday
last. He remained with us a couple of hours, and was as delightful as
ever. Oh! more news. With his kind help, I have taken Mrs. Lodge's small
house for the winter and this opens to me a comfortable prospect,
though, even with his help, the two ends will have to be pulled a little
in order to meet....
The furnished house in lower Mount Vernon Street proved a pleasant
habitat. It was nine years since she had had a house in Boston; in spite
of her lameness, perhaps partly because of it, she enjoyed entertaining
her family and friends. Mrs. Terry and her daughter spent part of the
winter with them.
The year 1880 was marked by the publication of her first book since
"Later Lyrics": a tiny volume entitled "Modern Society," containing,
beside the title essay, a kindred one on "Changes in American Society."
The Journal makes little or no mention of this booklet, but Thomas
Wentworth Higginson says of it: "It would be hard to find a book in
American literature better worth reprinting and distributing.... In wit,
in wisdom, in anecdote, I know few books so racy."
"_January 1, 1881._ I have now been lame for twelve weeks, in
consequence of a bad fall which I had on October 17. I am still on
crutches with my left knee in a splint. Have had much valuable leisure
in consequence of this, but have suffered much inconvenience and
privation of preaching, social intercourse, etc. Very little pain since
the first ten days. Farewell, Old Year! Thank the Heavenly Father for
many joys, comforts and opportunities."
Her physician insisted upon her keeping quiet, but she could not obey
him, and continued to travel about on crutches to keep her many
engagements. Her faithful coachman, Frank McCarthy, was her companion on
these journeys.
"_January 26._ Busy most of the day with my lecture. Had a visit from H.
P. B.,[92] who advised me to keep still and go nowhere until my lameness
shall be much better. Took 4.30 train for Concord, Massachusetts. Maud
would go with me, which grieved me, as she thereby lost a brilliant
ball.... We went to Mr. Cheney's, where we found Frank Barlow, a little
older, but quite unchanged as to character, etc. He has the endearing
coquetry of a woman. Dear Mr. Emerson and Mrs. came to my lecture. Mr.
E. said that he liked it. The audience was very attentive throughout.
Stepped only once on my lame foot in getting into the sleigh...."
[92] Dr. H. P. Beach.
"_January 28._ Busy all day with my address for woman's suffrage meeting
in the evening.... When I entered with my crutches the audience
applauded quite generally.... Wendell Phillips made the concluding
speech of the evening. He was less brilliant than usual, and kept
referring to what I had said. I thanked him for this afterwards, and he
said that my speech had spoiled his own; that I had taken up the very
points upon which he had intended to dwell."
"_February 11._ Lecture at Groton, Massachusetts. As I went down the
steps to the carriage, one of my crutches slipped and the careless
hackman on my right let me fall, Frank catching me, but not until I had
given my knee a severe wrench which gave me great pain. I suffered much
in my travel, but got through, Frank helping me.... My knee seemed much
inflamed and kept me awake much of the night. My lecture on 'Polite
Society' was well received. The good people of the house brought me
their new ledger, that my name might be the first recorded in it."
"_February 12._ Dinner of Merchants' Club. Edward Atkinson invites me.
Got back by early train, 7.50 A.M., feeling poorly. Did not let Maud
know of my hurt. Went to the dinner mentioned above, which was at the
Vendôme.... Was taken in to dinner by the President, Mr. Fitz. Robert
Collyer had the place on my right. He was delightful as ever. Edward
Everett Hale sat near me and talked with me from time to time. Of course
my speech afflicted me. I got through it, however, but had to lose the
other speeches, the hour being so late and the night so inclement, very
rainy."
"_February 20._ Very lame this morning. No courage to try to go out.
Have been busy with Kant and Miss Cobbe's new book, 'Duties of Women,'
which I am reviewing for the 'Christian Register.'..."
_To Laura_
129 MOUNT VERNON STREET,
February 27, 1881.
MY DEAREST LAURA,--
... Mr. Longfellow came to see us yesterday, and told us his curious
dreams. In one of them, he went to London and found James Russell Lowell
_keeping a grocery._ In another, people were vituperating the bad
weather, and dear Papa said: "Remember, gentlemen, who makes it!" This
impressed us as very characteristic of our dear one. My lameness is
decreasing very slowly, and I have now been a week without the splint.
The knee, however, still swells if I attempt to use it, and my life is
still much restricted as to movement....
"_February 28...._ A cloud seems to lift itself from that part of my
mind which concerns, or should concern, itself with spiritual things.
Sometimes a strong unwillen seizes me in this direction. I feel in
myself no capacity to comprehend any features of the unseen world. My
belief in it does not change, but my imagination refuses to act upon the
basis of the 'things not seen.'"
"_March 5._ Longfellow to dine."