consequently at the speaker’s right hand, turned his ear in a calm
and patient attitude, with a suppressed merry twinkling of the eye
altogether incompatible with the hour. Senator Pratt, of Indiana,
laid his head on the back of his chair, rolled his eyes heavenward,
and looked as if he felt his genuine modesty more than ever. Mr.
Rice, of Arkansas, sat holding his chin, apparently fearful that
unless taken just the right kind of care of it might drop down,
leaving the floor open with all sorts of consequences. Judge Cook,
of Illinois, folded his hands over his breast, seemingly as resigned
as if for the last time, whilst Judge Welker, of Ohio, looked just
as if he wanted to say “boo to a goose.” Just before Mrs. Stanton
began Senator Hamlin read two petitions--the first signed by some
of the women of the District, praying that suffrage be extended to
them, and another from Massachusetts, of the same purport. After he
had finished he calmly sat down, and told the women he was prepared,
with the other gentlemen, to hear what they had to say. Mrs. Stanton
came to time as usual, and began the story which all thoughtful
persons have by heart who have heard her three times. She read it,
however, and one sitting by her side could see slips of paper cut
from newspapers pasted between portions of the manuscript, and it
was said these slips were taken from the time of the Revolution.
The essay began about eternal principles. That it was best to do
right, and leave the rest to God. That Congress should legislate
for equality. The Republican party had put the word “male” into the
Federal Constitution. The States had the right to regulate, but not
to prohibit suffrage. It is despotism of the most odious kind to
prevent woman from the exercise of those powers which God has given
her. She said there was a proposition before Congress to change the
whole code of laws which govern the District of Columbia; and when
this was done the only way to regenerate and purify the spot was to
remove disabilities, and let all vote--male and female, black and
white. She wanted this mooted question of suffrage ended. She went
over the ground of the late war, and said that woman had not been
a disinterested observer for the last hundred years; that she came
over in the Mayflower, side by side with man in the old Revolution;
and can woman now stand silent and see the selling of her birthright
of liberty? The emancipated serfs of Russia were clamoring for more
liberty, and they would get it, too. Do you intend to stand by these
old landmarks, instead of advancing with a newer civilization?
Mrs. Stanton then proposed for the committee to ask any questions
which they might think proper to do. An ominous silence followed.
Mrs. Stanton then said she did not choose to be represented by John
Morrissey and two men in the New York legislature who could neither
read nor write. Laws have been changing at woman’s instigation for
the last thirty years, which proves that woman knows what is good for
her. We are obliged to build sidewalks and other improvements and
have we not a right to say how our money shall be expended? You have
seen dogs in the street quarreling over a bone; if you throw them two
bones the quarrel is over. The “drunken scene” was left out, like
everything else which in a way could have a personal application.
After some more talk Mrs. Stanton sat down, and Susan B.--bless
her heart!--faced the Congressional guns. The great pumping power
which this woman carries in her brain had lifted the blood into her
cheeks, and her eyes blazed with the fire of early day. Lilac kid
gloves covered her kind, strong hands and it was astonishing to us
all to see how much she looked like a woman. She put her hands behind
her as if it was best to have them in a safe place, and commenced
by telling the gentlemen that they had it in their power to strike
the word “male” out of the Constitution. (Susan has a way of saying
the word “male” so that it sounds like the snapping of small arms.)
In the District the experiment was tried of giving colored men
their rights, and it seems as if this is a fitting place for the
inauguration of a grander experiment--that of doing for the woman
what you did for the negro. It is only a long custom which you hate
to break.
Mrs. Stanton now prompted Susan to speak of Kansas. She then told the
story of the schoolhouse, and it was ascertained that the reason why
the women had to rise at 11 o’clock at night to vote was because the
men had determined to settle the question that day. The men wrangled
and could not come to a conclusion, so the women were called as the
last feather to break the camel’s back.
A little time before Senator Sumner had come in and taken a seat at
the foot of the table. Susan now asked the Senator a question, and
forgot and called him “Mr. Sumner,” just as if he was like other
men. But she was called to order by Mrs. Stanton, and made haste to
repair the wrong by begging his pardon and saying “Senator” with a
snap to it. She asked the Senator how it worked in Massachusetts by
having women vote on the school question. The Senator said it worked
well. As there seemed no chance for an argument, she paused for fresh
inspiration, but she was interrupted by Phœbe Couzins, and prompted
to say something she had already said.
Whilst they were parleying, Mrs. Pauline Davis took the floor and
said a few words in a voice too low to be heard except by those at
the table. Before Miss Anthony sat down, Mrs. Beecher Hooker touched
her by the arm and begged her not to be too severe. Susan said she
did not mean to be severe.
Mrs. Hooker then took her seat at the head of the table, as her
modesty would not let her stand up before this august tribunal.
Mrs. Hooker leaned over the table and made the daintiest kind of a
picture. Senator Hamlin straightened himself up and pulled down his
vest. Senator Pratt opened his sleepy eyes to the widest extent, and
Senator Sumner gave his undivided attention. Mrs. Hooker said that
woman looked to the Government for her rights. “I assure you, Christ
uses the word thou shalt do this, and thou shalt do that, which means
to apply to women quite as much as to men. The Bible says, ‘Honor thy
father and mother, and thy days shall be long in the land.’ How can
a son honor his mother when he chooses to use his young thoughts to
legislate for her whilst he is so much younger than she is. It cannot
be right.” She did not believe so much in woman’s rights as woman’s
duty. At this moment her voice stole away from her like the dying
notes of a swan, and she removed to another seat, her white forehead
bedewed with perspiration.
Madame Anneke was now introduced, and commenced by saying: “Honorary
Sirs: Perhaps you will be kind enough to listen to my poor talk. I
come delegate from Wisconsin; from oder places too. You have lifted
up the slaves, shentlemen, you hear t’ousand and t’ousand voices.
In Europe you hear the cry, help us, gentlemens, and den we help
ourselves.” After some more such logic, Madame Anneke ponderously
withdrew.
Senator Patterson now modestly proposed a question: Suppose a
difference of opinion should arise in the family, what will prevent
the mischief of discord?
Mrs. Stanton, who had the cunning answer already to spring upon him,
said there is already discord there. “I do not think this can make
any more. There is always the superior mind in every family. If it
belongs to the man, he decides it; if to the woman, she does the
same. The smallest men are most tenacious of their rights.” Senator
Patterson, seemingly afraid to be classed in this category, closed
his lips.
Judge Cook now asked, “What evidence have you that the great body of
women in the country want to vote?”
Mrs. Stanton replied that in New York, where she had scattered tracts
and otherwise labored, she had been rewarded with petitions signed by
20,000 women.
Judge Welker then asked, “How large a number want to vote in the
District of Columbia?”
Mrs. Stanton said they had just closed a convention attended by
fifteen hundred persons who were enthusiastic on the subject.
Mrs. Davis then said: “People are tired of asking for this thing and
that thing. It is time that legislators knew their business without
being petitioned.”
Miss Anthony then reiterated the glories of the late convention, and
went off into one of those spasmodic efforts practically impossible
to any one but Susan.
Mrs. Beecher again cautioned her, and told her not to forget the
place where she was. This brought Susan to terra firma.
Mrs. Gage then said she held a petition in her hand, signed by 3,000
people, but no one seemed inclined to take it away from her, and she
quietly sat down.
The Honorable Hannibal Hamlin then arose to correct Mrs. Stanton
in what she had said about changing the laws for the District of
Columbia; that no such bill was before the committee to which Mrs.
Stanton had alluded. There was a bill, but it was unlike the one
reported in the newspapers. The District of Columbia was governed
by laws made a hundred years ago, and the age had outgrown them. He
believed they should be modified, and he advocated the change to be
made by the citizens, subject to the will of Congress. He only spoke
for himself and not for his associates.
Judge Cook, of Illinois, chairman of the committee of the House,
said that Congress was no place to bring up such a great question.
There is too much to do here already. We have no time--absolutely
no time--for the consideration of the subject. At the same time he
seemed to be looking about for a hole to escape.
Mrs. Hooker said that time should be made for such a subject.
Mrs. Stanton said, “Present the sixteenth amendment.”
Honorable Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine, chairman of the Senate
Committee, said, “We will take this question into consideration. When
Saul went up into Damascus he said unto Paul, ‘I am almost persuaded
to become a Christian.’” The reporters’ table was illuminated by
smiles, and one man was malicious enough to say a little Scripture
reading would do the Senator good, for he meant Agrippa instead of
Saul. Another answered that the Senator was figuratively speaking,
and he might as well use one name as another.
The council was broken by the Congressional lions going stealthily
away, but before they all had a chance to get out, Susan buttonholed
two or three. “Sixteenth amendment” was distilled from her lips like
honey from flowers. Senator Sumner came around genial as a summer’s
sun, yet it was noticed that during the whole ordeal he never opened
his lips, but endured all with the resignation of martyrdom. And thus
the meeting of the Amazon warriors passed away.
OLIVIA.
HONORING THE PRINCE.
RECEPTION TO THE VISITING SCION OF ROYALTY.
WASHINGTON, _January 26, 1870_.
In the very heart of the fashionable quarter of the capital may be
seen a most unpretending two-story-and-a-half house, in the usual
American imitation of brown stone. A modest bay window keeps steady
company with a classic little porch at the front entrance of the
mansion. As you enter the building you find yourself in a moderately
sized hall, and if you turn to the left you are ushered into a
drawing-room, octagonal in shape, and you perceive the vista opening
to another of the same shape and size, leading to the third, which
completes the suite of apartments thrown open at the entertainment
of guests. These parlors are not extravagantly furnished. The walls
are not covered with costly pictures; yet this establishment at
present is the cynosure of all eyes, because a prince of the royal
blood of England finds shelter under its hospitable roof. The ugly
truth must be told. Great Britain does not consider the United
States a first-class mission, and she does not furnish her minister
resident with a palace and et ceteras to match, as in Paris and other
continental cities. But England does honor our Republic by sending
Mr. Thornton to represent her, one of nature’s noblemen, and plain
Mrs. Thornton, without a drop of blue blood in her veins. So Victoria
has sent her good-natured boy amongst us, and the wife of England’s
minister is doing the handsome part by her guest.
For reasons already mentioned no very large entertainment can be
given at the English embassy. A dinner party was given on Monday
evening, at which were present the Cabinet and a portion of the
diplomatic corps, as well as General Sherman and Senator Sumner.
Different sets of invitations were issued; or in other words, each
woman’s card was a separate affair from her husband’s. Only gentlemen
were entertained at dinner--the ladies came afterwards to the
reception, which began at half past nine in the evening. Each woman
invited to the residence of the English minister to honor the Prince
received a special card from Mrs. Thornton.
The dinner passed away like other dinners when gentlemen have it all
their own way; but the reception was as brilliant as the presence of
beautiful and accomplished women could make it. The guests were first
introduced to Mrs. and Mr. Thornton, and they in turn presented them
to their prince. Mrs. Thornton’s eyes sparkled as only an English
woman’s can with the son of her sovereign beside her.
Prince Arthur is a medium sized youth, who has just reached the
door-sill of adolescence. A soft yellowish down occupies the place
where whiskers are intended to grow, and his thoroughly English face
has the peachy bloom which distinguishes the gentry of that famous
island. He bears a strong resemblance to the Prince of Wales, but
with indications of more force of character. His hands are as pink as
a sea shell, and anything else but aristocratic. At the reception he
was dressed in a suit of black cloth, high standing collar, handsome
cravat, and polished patent leathers. Three emerald studs adorned
his faultless shirt front, and a sprig of violets dangled from a
button-hole. He wore no gloves, but gave his bare, pink palms for an
instant to the keeping of American citizens. He was so kind, plain,
and straightforward, that everybody forgave him for being a prince.
After all had been introduced to the young lion, and many little
pleasant wisps of conversation had floated away, the company
proceeded to the dining-room, where ices, fruits, and wines regaled
the guests. Mrs. Thornton and Baron Gerolt, the Prussian minister,
led the way, followed by the Prince and Mrs. Fish, Minister Thornton
and the Baroness Gerolt, Secretary Fish and Mrs. Belknap, Secretary
Belknap and Mrs. Creswell, Chief Justice Chase and Madame Catacazy,
the wife of the Russian minister, and the most beautiful woman
belonging to the foreign legations; Mr. Robeson, the bachelor
Secretary, and Philadelphia’s handsome Madame Potestael, and a host
of other lights distinguished in the political and fashionable
world. The tables were elegantly decorated with flowers, while the
vintage at the English minister’s is celebrated above all others in
Washington. Conversation was varied by excellent music, contributed
by the voice of Madame Garcia, of the Argentine Republic, assisted by
Blacque Bey, the Turkish minister, who also took a prominent part in
the evening’s entertainment.
Among the guests were noticed General and Mrs. Tete, the new minister
from Hayti. These members of the diplomatic corps are of mixed blood,
the African largely predominant. Mrs. Tete was dressed in a claret
colored silk, high in the neck, long sleeves, and without ornaments.
She has unassuming manners, though exceedingly courteous and high
bred. She remarked to one of the company that she did not know how
she would be received in society in Washington, but so far she had
met with nothing but kindness. This evening in particular, she was
made to feel at home.
Though the newspapers sparkle with descriptions of a dinner given
at the White House in honor of Prince Arthur, there was no such
entertainment. The state dinner which takes place every Wednesday at
the Executive Mansion occurred as usual, and Prince Arthur happening
to be sojourning temporarily in Washington, whilst on his youthful
travels, our plain President simply laid an extra plate for his
unexpected guest--unexpected, because all the other guests were
invited before the Prince reached the city, and these guests received
no notice that Victoria’s son would be among them, and consequently
could not feel that they had been selected to meet royalty. Only
thirty-six persons can be seated in the dining-room of the White
House, therefore a “royal” entertainment is reserved for a future
folly.
When the subject of entertaining the Prince was mentioned before our
President, he simply said: “I think if Ulysses was in London he would
be lucky if he got any dinner at Windsor Castle at all.” Whether
it was owing to that sly strategy which put down the rebellion, or
other causes equally potent, it did happen that some of the most
sensible women in the nation were invited guests at this particular
state dinner. These women, these wives of members of Congress, are
not known to the fashionable world; they dare to live within their
husband’s means, and have been known to appear at a full dress
reception in plain black silk dress, and without the usual quantity
of false hair. In the veins of such women runs the blue blood of the
Republic, and their presence is as sweet as violets.
The arrival of Prince Arthur in Washington has created very little
excitement, probably for the reason that every boy knows that he has
a far better chance of being President than the royal scion has of
being king.
OLIVIA.
LEVEE AT THE EXECUTIVE MANSION.
CABINET LADIES TAKE PART IN ASSISTING MRS. GRANT
WASHINGTON, _February 5, 1870_.
A stranger attending a Presidential levee for the first time at the
capital has an opportunity to drain the cup of Washington society
to its very dregs. Card receptions, such as are held at the homes
of the Cabinet, Chief Justice Chase, and General Sherman, in a
certain sense are veiled under the sacred seal of hospitality, and
the newspaper correspondent dare not, cannot, without violating all
delicacy and good taste, make a pen picture of the men and women whom
the dear people at home like to know all about. A Presidential levee
is altogether a different affair. It is public. It belongs to the
people. When we go to the Executive Mansion we go to our own house.
Our sacred feet press our own tufted Wiltons. We recline on our own
satin and ebony. We are received graciously by our own well-dressed
servants, and the people have a right to know, through the columns
of _The Press_, the exact state of the situation. Whoever goes to a
levee at the mansion becomes public property, and has no more right
to complain because he has been caught in the net of a newspaper
correspondent than the fish who has swallowed the hook of an honest
fisherman. The time has been when a levee at the White House was
like a social gathering in a modest village. The President not only
shook hands with his guest, but also asked him to take a chair and
inquired about the state of the crops “Down East.” The most precious
republican simplicity has taken its departure with the Jeffersons
and the Madisons; or rather it has necessarily been cast off with
all the other swaddling-clothes of an infant Republic. A perfect
river of human life pours through the Executive Mansion. Human beings
are packed together just as solid as sardines in a box, whilst the
President and Mrs. Grant are obliged to take each separate atom by
the hand. After two hours of this kind of work, its ravage begins to
show its effect upon the person of the Chief Magistrate. His eyes
begin to have a far-off look, great drops of perspiration stand on
his forehead, and his thin, quivering nostrils rise and sink, like
the gills of a darling dolphin when taken out of the water. Sometimes
the President gasps; but this is usually thought to be a handsomely
suppressed yawn, and no matter how much he may desire to bring in his
superb knowledge of military tactics, so far as it is known he has
never been guilty of a flank movement; he has only appeared as if he
would like to shoulder arms.
Mrs. Grant stands a little way from the President--“fair, fat and
forty.” She appears in grace and manner just as any other sensible
woman would who had been lifted from the ranks of the people to such
an exalted position. It is true she shows the people her comely neck
and shoulders, and, notwithstanding the wintry weather, makes no
attempt to cover her shapely arms; but her gracious condescension is
appreciated, and the exhibition is free to all.
Who are the people who file past the President? Titled men and women
of foreign countries; a large part of the community which romance
would call the “republican court;” and the mighty power sometimes
called the sovereign people. Now it happens, as the stream flows
onward through the Executive rooms, that particles of humanity are
lodged in the same apartments that are honored with the presence of
the President and his wife.
The most distinguished guests remain permanently in the room of
power. The picture is made up of the Presidential party in the
foreground, and back of them stand the Army, Navy, and Cabinet, as
well as the Vice-President of the United States. Of all the public
men in the nation few or none stand so near the national heart as
Schuyler Colfax, and the reason assigned is because he has got a mind
like an elephant’s trunk. It picks up anything, from the largest man
to the smallest woman, and his heart is big enough to give them all
standing room. If he is introduced to a manufacturer he knows what
kind of articles the man sends to market. If a literary woman is
presented to him she finds that she has been registered in exactly
the right place in his mind. He knows whether she writes about
fashion, or, alas! alas! reports women conventions. Schuyler Colfax
knows everything that is published in the newspapers. There is no
room in his mind for lumber. It is full of working material, and he
is the fairest specimen of progressive Young America to be found on
the continent.
Miss Nellie Grant is a prominent feature of the levees and receptions
at the White House. She is just exactly at the age when the feathers
of her wings are not quite well enough grown to admit of her flying
as a woman, and yet they are far enough advanced to spoil her
attractions as a child. Her costume is of the rarest and costliest
kind, and she conducts herself as becomes the only daughter of a
President.
An elegant woman is seen standing in the background, slender almost
to fragility, arrayed in a trailing robe of black velvet. Her
powdered head and Greek profile take you back to the days of Louis
XIV, and you feel that Madame Pompadour or some other beauty of that
period has stepped out of her picture frame and stands flesh and
blood before you. This woman is Mrs. Cresswell, the accomplished wife
of the Postmaster-General.
In the shadow of the crimson curtains stand the Marquis and Madame
de Chambrun. The marquis is an attache of the French legation; the
madame is the granddaughter of General Lafayette, and one of the most
attractive women in Washington. Nature meant to make her a blonde,
but forgot herself and kept on with the bleaching process. One
cannot help in contemplation wondering whether her soul is as white
and transparent as the casket. She inherits her grandfather’s love
for republican principles. The madame has been only a short time in
the country, but the marquis has been here, more or less, for quite
a number of years. It is said that he is writing a history of our
Republic. He has always been connected with the European press, and
ranks high as a literary man at home.
Just beyond the marquis in the offing might have been seen Admiral
Goldsborough, heavy and ponderous as one of his own war vessels, and
carrying nobody knows how many guns. He wheezed and puffed as if
there was something the matter with his machinery, but all persons
present seemed unaware of danger, and no sign of an explosion or
accident took place. Mrs. Goldsborough accompanied her stately
husband, apparently a fitting consort in time of war or peace.
“Ad Interim” Thomas was there in the brightest of military buttons
and army blue. He looked as harmless as one of the wooden guns at
Manassas, and it was impossible to believe that he was the same “Ad
Interim” that once shook the Republic from center to circumference.
A fine looking woman clung to his arm, but whether it was Mrs. “Ad
Interim,” or another the writer failed to discover.