MEETING WITH J. S. MILL AND GEORGE ELIOT.
I leave to the last of my experiences in the old world in 1865-6 my
interviews with John Stuart Mill and George Eliot. Stuart Mill's wife
was the sister of Arthur and of Alfred Hardy, of Adelaide, and the
former had given to me a copy of the first edition of Mill's "Political
Economy," with the original dedication to Mrs. John Taylor, who
afterwards became Mill's wife, which did not appear in subsequent
editions; but, as he had two gift copies of the same edition, Mr. Hardy
sent it on to me with his almost illegible handwriting:--"To Miss
Spence from the author, not, indeed, directly, but in the confidence
felt by the presenter that in so doing he is fulfilling the wish of the
author--viz., circulating his opinions, more especially in such
quarters as the present, where they will be accurately considered and
tested." I had also seen the dedication to Harriet Mill's beloved
memory of the noble book on "Liberty." Of her own individual work there
was only one specimen extant--an article on the "Enfranchisement of
women," included in Mill's collected essays--very good, certainly, but
not so overpoweringly excellent as I expected. Of course, it was an
early advocacy of the rights of women, or rather a revival of Mary
Wollstoneeraft's grand vindication of the rights of the sex; and this
was a reform which Mill himself took up more warmly than proportional
representation, and advocated for years before Mr. Hare's revelation.
For myself, I considered electoral reform on the Hare system of more
value than the enfranchisement of women, and was not eager for the
doubling of the electors in number, especially as the new voters would
probably be more ignorant and more apathetic than the old. I was
accounted a weak-kneed sister by those who worked primarily for woman
suffrage, although I was as much convinced as they were that I was
entitled to a vote, and hoped that I might be able to exercise it
before I was too feeble to hobble to the poll. I have unfortunately
lost the letter Mr. Mill wrote to me about my letters to The Register,
and my "Plea for Pure Democracy," but it gave him great pleasure to see
that a new idea both of the theory and practice of politics had been
taken up and expanded by a woman, and one from that Australian colony,
of which he had watched and aided the beginnings, as is seen by the
name of Mill terrace, North Adelaide, to-day. Indeed, both Hare and
Mill told me their first converts were women; and I felt that the
absolute disinterestedness of my "Plea," which was not for myself, but
only that the men who were supposed to represent me at the polling
booth should be equitably represented themselves, lent weight to my
arguments. I have no axe to grind--no political party to serve; so that
it was not until the movement for the enfranchisement of women grew too
strong to be neglected that I took hold of it at all; and I do not
claim any credit for its success in South Australia and the
Commonwealth, further than this--that by my writings and my spoken
addresses I showed that one woman had a steady grasp on politics and on
sociology. In 1865, when I was in England, Mr. Mill was permanently
resident at Avignon, where his wife died, but he had to come to England
to canvass for a seat in Parliament for Westminster as an Independent
member, believed at that time to be an advanced Radical, but known to
be a philosopher, and an economist of the highest rank in English
literature. I had only one opportunity of seeing him personally, and I
did not get so much out of him as I expected--he was so eager to know
how the colony and colonial people were developing. He asked me about
property in land and taxation, and the relations between employers and
employes, and I was a little amused and a little alarmed when he said
he was glad to get information from such a good authority. I had to
disclaim such knowledge; but he said he knew I was observant and
thoughtful, and what I had seen I had seen well. He was particularly
earnest about woman's suffrage, and Miss Taylor, his stepdaughter, said
she thought he had made a mistake in asking for the vote for single
women only and widows with property and wives who had a separate
estate; it would have been more logical to have asked for the vote on
the same terms as were extended to men. The great man said
meekly--"Well, perhaps I have made a mistake, but I thought with a
property qualification the beginning would awake less antagonism." He
said to me that if I was not to return to London till January we were
not likely to meet again. He walked with me bareheaded to the gate, and
it was farewell for both.
Wise man as Mill was he did not foresee that his greatest object, the
enfranchisement of women, would be carried at the antipodes long before
there was victory either in England or America. When I received, in
1869 from the publisher, Mr. Mill's last book, "The Subjection of
Women," I wrote thanking him for the gift. The reply was as
follows:--"Avignon, November 28, 1869--Dear Madam--Your letter of
August 16 has been sent to me here. The copy of my little book was
intended for you, and I had much pleasure in offering it. The movement
against women's disabilities generally, and for the suffrage in
particular, has made great progress in England since you were last
there. It is likely, I think, to be successful in the colonies later
than in England, because the want of equality in social advantages
between women and men is less felt in the colonies owing, perhaps, to
women's having less need of other occupations than those of married
life--I am, dear Madam, yours very truly, J. S. Mill." I have always
held that, though the Pilgrim Fathers ignored the right of the Pilgrim
Mothers to the credit of founding the American States--although these
women had to take their full share of the toils and hardships and
perils of pioneer and frontier life, and had in addition to put up with
the Pilgrim Fathers themselves--Australian colonization was carried out
by men who were conscious of the service of their helpmates, and
grateful for it. In New Zealand and South Australia, founded on the
Wakefield system, where the sexes were almost equal in number, and the
immigration was mainly that of families, the first great triumphs for
the political enfranchisement of women were won, and through South
Australia the women of the Commonwealth obtained the Federal vote for
both Houses: whereas even in the sparsely inhabited western states in
the United States which have obtained the State vote the Federal vote
is withheld from them. But Mill died in 1873, 20 years before New
Zealand or Colorado obtained woman's suffrage.
In treating of my one interview with Mr. Mill I have carried the
narrative down to 1869. With regard to my single meeting with George
Eliot, I have to begin in 1865, and conclude even later. Before I left
England Mr. Williams, of Smith, Elder, & Co., offered me an
introduction to George Henry Lewes, and I expressed the hope that it
might also include an introduction to George Eliot, whose works I so
admired. Mr. Lewes being away from home when I called, I requested that
the introductory letter of Mr. Williams should be taken to George Eliot
herself. She received me in the big Priory drawing room, with the grand
piano, where she held her receptions and musical evenings; but she
asked me if I had any business relating to the article which Mr.
Williams had mentioned, and I had to confess that I had none. For once
I felt myself at fault. I did not get on with George Eliot. She said
she was not well, and she did not look well. That strong pale face,
where the features were those of Dante or Savanarola, did not soften as
Mill's had done. The voice, which was singularly musical and
impressive, touched me--I am more susceptible to voices than to
features or complexion--but no subject that I started seemed to fall in
with her ideas, and she started none in which I could follow her lead
pleasantly. It was a short interview, and it was a failure. I felt I
had been looked on as an inquisitive Australian desiring an interview
upon any pretext; and indeed, next day I had a letter from Mr.
Williams, in which he told me that, but for the idea that I had some
business arrangement to speak of, she would not have seen me at all. So
I wrote to Mr. Williams that, as I had been received by mistake, I
should never mention the interview; but that impertinent curiosity was
not at all my motive in going that unlucky day to The Priory.
Years passed by. I read everything, poetry and prose, that came from
George Eliot's pen, and was so strong an admirer of her that Mr. W. L.
Whitham, who took charge of the Unitarian Church while our pastor (Mr.
Woods) had a long furlough in England, asked me to lecture on her works
to his Mutual Improvement Society, and I undertook the task with joy.
Mr. H. G. Turner asked for the MS. to publish in the second number of
The Melbourne Review, a very promising quarterly for politics and
literature. I thought that, if I sent the review to George Eliot with a
note it might clear me from the suspicion of being a mere vulgar
lionhunter. Her answer was as follows:--"The Priory, North Bank,
Regent's Park, September 4, 1876. Dear Madam--Owing to an absence of
some months, it was only the other day that I read your kind letter of
April 17; and, although I have long been obliged to give up answering
the majority of letters addressed to me, I felt much pleased that you
had given me an opportunity of answering one from you; for I have
always remembered your visit with a regretful feeling that I had
probably caused you some pain by a rather unwise effort to give you a
reception which the state of my health at the moment made altogether
blundering and infelicitous. The mistake was all on my side, and you
were not in the least to blame. I also remember that your studies have
been of a serious kind, such as were likely to render a judgment on
fiction and poetry, or, as the Germans, with better classification,
say, in 'DICHTUNG' in general, quite other than the superficial
haphazard remarks of which reviews are generally made. You will all the
better understand that I have made it a rule not to read writing about
myself. I am exceptionally sensitive and liable to discouragement; and
to read much remark about my doings would have as depressing an effect
on me as staring in a mirror--perhaps, I may say, of defective glass.
But my husband looks at all the numerous articles that are forwarded to
me, and kindly keeps them out of my way--only on rare occasions reading
to me a passage which he thinks will comfort me by its evidence of
unusual insight or sympathy. Yesterday he read your article in The
Melbourne Review, and said at the end--'This is an excellently written
article, which would do credit to any English periodical' adding the
very uncommon testimony, 'I shall keep this.' Then he told me of some
passages in it which gratified me by that comprehension of my
meaning--that laying of the finger on the right spot--which is more
precious than praise, and forthwith he went to lay The Melbourne Review
in the drawer he assigns to any writing about me that gives him
pleasure. For he feels on my behalf more than I feel on my own, at
least in matters of this kind. If you come to England again when I
happen to be in town I hope that you will give me the pleasure of
seeing you under happier auspices than those of your former visit.--I
am, dear madam, yours sincerely, M. G. Lewes." The receipt of this kind
and candid letter gave me much pleasure; and, although on the strength
of that, I cannot boast of being a correspendent of that great woman, I
was able to say that I had seen and talked with her, and that she
considered me a competent critic of her work. Mrs. Oliphant says that
George Eliot's life impelled her to make an involuntary
confession--"How have I been handicapped in life? Should I have done
better if I had been kept, like her, in a mental green-house and taken
care of? I have always had to think of other people and to plan
everything for my own pleasure, it is true, very often, but always in
subjection to the necessity which bound me to them. To bring up the
boys--my own and Frank's--for the service of God was better than to
write a fine novel, if it had been in my power to do so." The heart
knows its own bitterness. There might have been some points in which
George Eliot might have envied Mrs. Oliphant.