costumes, contributed a picturesque bit of brilliant color to the scene
as they deeply salaamed. They arrested the eye of the Queen, who stopped
and spoke a few cordial words to them. This gave the rest of us an
excellent opportunity to observe her closely, and I admit that my
English blood stirred in me suddenly and loyally as I studied the plump
little figure. She was dressed entirely and very simply in black, with a
quaint flat black hat and a black cape. The only bit of color about her
was a black-and-white parasol with a gold handle. It was, however, her
face which held me, for it gave me a wholly different impression of the
Queen from those I had received from her photographs. Her pictured eyes
were always rather cold, and her pictured face rather haughty; but there
was a very sweet and winning softness in the eyes she turned upon the
Indian women, and her whole expression was unexpectedly gentle and
benignant. Behind her, as a personal attendant, strode an enormous
East-Indian in full native costume, and closely surrounding her were
gentlemen of her household, each in uniform.
By this time my thoughts were on my courtesy, which I desired to make
conventional if not graceful; but nature has not made it easy for me to
double to the earth as Lady Aberdeen and the Indian women were doing,
and I fear I accomplished little save an exhibition of good intentions.
The Queen, however, was getting into the spirit of the occasion. She
stopped to speak to a Canadian representative, and she would, I think,
have ended by talking to many others; but, just at the psychological
moment, a woman rushed out of the line, seized Her Majesty's hand
and kissed it--and Victoria, startled and possibly fearing a general
onslaught, hurriedly passed on.
Another picture I recall was made by the Duchess of Sutherland, the
Countess of Aberdeen, and the Countess of Warwick standing together to
receive us at the foot of the marble stairway in Sutherland House. All
of them literally blazed with jewels, and the Countess of Aberdeen wore
the famous Aberdeen emerald. At Lady Battersea's reception I had my
first memorial meeting with Mary Anderson Navarro, and was able to thank
her for the pleasure she had given me in Boston so long ago. Then I
reproached her mildly for taking herself away from us, pointing out that
a great gift had been given her which she should have continued to share
with the world.
"Come and see my baby," laughed Madame Navarro. "That's the best
argument I can offer to refute yours."
At the same reception I had an interesting talk with James Bryce. He had
recently written his American Commonwealth, and I had just read it. It
was, therefore, the first subject I introduced in our conversation. Mr.
Bryce's comment amused me. He told me he had quite changed his opinion
toward the suffrage aspirations of women, because so many women had read
his book that he really believed they were intelligent, and he had come
to feel much more kindly toward them. These were not his exact words,
but his meaning was unmistakable and his mental attitude artlessly
sincere. And, on reflection, I agree with him that the American
Commonwealth is something of an intellectual hurdle for the average
human mind.
In 1908 the International Council was held in Geneva, and here, for
the first time, we were shown, as entertainment, the dances of a
country--the scene being an especially brilliant one, as all the dancers
wore their native costumes. Also, for the first time in the history of
Geneva, the buildings of Parliament were opened to women and a woman's
organization was given the key to the city. At that time the Swiss women
were making their fight for a vote in church matters, and we helped
their cause as much as we could. To-day many Swiss women are permitted
to exercise this right--the first political privilege free Switzerland
has given them.
The International Alliance meeting in Amsterdam in 1909 was the largest
held up to that time, and much of its success was due to Dr. Aletta
Jacobs, the president of the National Suffrage Association of Holland.
Dr. Jacobs had some wonderful helpers among the women of her country,
and she herself was an ideal leader--patient, enthusiastic, and
tireless. That year the governments of Australia, Norway, and Finland
paid the expenses of the delegates from those countries--a heartening
innovation. One of the interesting features of the meeting was a cantata
composed for the occasion and given by the Queen's Royal Band, under
the direction of a woman--Catharine van Rennes, one of the most
distinguished composers and teachers in Holland. She wrote both words
and music of her cantata and directed it admirably; and the musicians
of the Queen's Band entered fully into its spirit and played like
men inspired. That night we had more music, as well as a
never-to-be-forgotten exhibition of folk-dancing.
The same year, in June, we held the meeting of the International
Council in Toronto, and, as Canada has never been eagerly interested in
suffrage, an unsuccessful effort was made to exclude this subject from
the programme. I was asked to preside at the suffrage meetings on the
artless and obvious theory that I would thus be kept too busy to say
much. I had hoped that the Countess of Aberdeen, who was the president
of the International Council, would take the chair; but she declined
to do this, or even to speak, as the Earl of Aberdeen had recently
been appointed Viceroy of Ireland, and she desired to spare him any
embarrassment which might be caused by her public activities. We
recognized the wisdom of her decision, but, of course, regretted it;
and I was therefore especially pleased when, on suffrage night, the
countess, accompanied by her aides in their brilliant uniforms, entered
the hall. We had not been sure that she would be with us, but she
entered in her usual charming and gracious manner, took a seat beside
me on the platform, and showed a deep interest in the programme and the
great gathering before us.
As the meeting went on I saw that she was growing more and more
enthusiastic, and toward the end of the evening I quietly asked her if
she did not wish to say a few words. She said she would say a very few.
I had put myself at the end of the programme, intending to talk
about twenty minutes; but before beginning my speech I introduced the
countess, and by this time she was so enthusiastic that, to my great
delight, she used up my twenty minutes in a capital speech in which
she came out vigorously for woman suffrage. It gave us the best and
timeliest help we could have had, and was a great impetus to the
movement.
In London, at the Alliance Council of 1911, we were entertained for
the first time by a suffrage organization of men, and by the organized
actresses of the nation, as well as by the authors.
In Stockholm, the following year, we listened to several of the most
interesting women speakers in the world--Selma Lagerlof, who had just
received the Nobel prize, Rosica Schwimmer of Hungary, Dr. Augsburg
of Munich, and Mrs. Philip Snowden of England. Miss Schwimmer and Mrs.
Snowden have since become familiar to American audiences, but until that
time I had not heard either of them, and I was immensely impressed by
their ability and their different methods--Miss Schwimmer being all
force and fire, alive from her feet to her finger-tips, Mrs. Snowden all
quiet reserve and dignity. Dr. Augsburg wore her hair short and dressed
in a most eccentric manner; but we forgot her appearance as we listened
to her, for she was an inspired speaker.
Selma Lagerlof's speech made the great audience weep. Men as well
as women openly wiped their eyes as she described the sacrifice and
suffering of Swedish women whose men had gone to America to make a home
there, and who, when they were left behind, struggled alone, waiting
and hoping for the message to join their husbands, which too often never
came. The speech made so great an impression that we had it translated
and distributed among the Swedes of the United States wherever we held
meetings in Swedish localities.
Miss Lagerlof interested me extremely, and I was delighted by an
invitation to breakfast with her one morning. At our first meeting she
had seemed rather cold and shy--a little "difficult," as we say; but
when we began to talk I found her frank, cordial, and full of magnetism.
She is self-conscious about her English, but really speaks our language
very well. Her great interest at the time was in improving the condition
of the peasants near her home. She talked of this work and of her books
and of the Council programme with such friendly intimacy that when we
parted I felt that I had always known her.
At the Hague Council in 1913 I was the guest of Mrs. Richard Halter, to
whom I am also indebted for a beautiful and wonderful motor journey from
end to end of Holland, bringing up finally in Amsterdam at the home of
Dr. Aletta Jacobs. Here we met two young Holland women, Miss Boissevain
and Rosa Manus, both wealthy, both anxious to help their countrywomen,
but still a little uncertain as to the direction of their efforts. They
came to Mrs. Catt and me and asked our advice as to what they should
do, with the result that later they organized and put through, largely
unaided, a national exposition showing the development of women's work
from 1813 to 1913. The suffrage-room at this exposition showed the
progress of suffrage in all parts of the world; but when the Queen of
Holland visited the building she expressed a wish not to be detained in
this room, as she was not interested in suffrage. The Prince Consort,
however, spent much time in it, and wanted the whole suffrage movement
explained to him, which was done cheerfully and thoroughly by Miss
Boissevain and Miss Manus. The following winter, when the Queen read her
address from the throne, she expressed an interest in so changing the
Constitution of Holland that suffrage might possibly be extended to
women. We felt that this change of heart was due to the suffrage-room
arranged by our two young friends--aided, probably, by a few words from
the Prince Consort!
Immediately after these days at Amsterdam we started for Budapest to
attend the International Alliance Convention there, and incidentally we
indulged in a series of two-day conventions en route--one at Berlin,
one at Dresden, one at Prague, and one at Vienna. At Prague I disgraced
myself by being in my hotel room in a sleep of utter exhaustion at the
hour when I was supposed to be responding to an address of welcome by
the mayor; and the high-light of the evening session in that city falls
on the intellectual brow of a Bohemian lady who insisted on making her
address in the Czech language, which she poured forth for exactly one
hour and fifteen minutes. I began my address at a quarter of twelve and
left the hall at midnight. Later I learned that the last speaker began
her remarks at a quarter past one in the morning.
It may be in order to add here that Vienna did for me what Berlin had
done for Susan B. Anthony--it gave me the ovation of my life. At the
conclusion of my speech the great audience rose and, still standing,
cheered for many minutes. I was immensely surprised and deeply
touched by the unexpected tribute; but any undue elation I might have
experienced was checked by the memory of the skeptical snort with which
one of my auditors had received me. He was very German, and very, very
frank. After one pained look at me he rose to leave the hall.
"THAT old woman!" he exclaimed. "She cannot make herself heard."
He was half-way down the aisle when the opening words of my address
caught up with him and stopped him. Whatever their meaning may have
been, it was at least carried to the far ends of that great hall, for
the old fellow had piqued me a bit and I had given my voice its fullest
volume. He crowded into an already over-occupied pew and stared at me
with goggling eyes.
"Mein Gott!" he gasped. "Mein Gott, she could be heard ANYWHERE."
The meeting at Budapest was a great personal triumph for Mrs. Catt. No
one, I am sure, but the almost adored president of the International
Suffrage Alliance could have controlled a convention made up of women
of so many different nationalities, with so many different viewpoints,
while the confusion of languages made a general understanding seem
almost hopeless. But it was a great success in every way--and a
delightful feature of it was the hospitality of the city officials and,
indeed, of the whole Hungarian people. After the convention I spent
a week with the Contessa Iska Teleki in her chateau in the Tatra
Mountains, and a friendship was there formed which ever since has been
a joy to me. Together we walked miles over the mountains and along
the banks of wonderful streams, while the countess, who knows all the
folk-lore of her land, told me stories and answered my innumerable
questions. When I left for Vienna I took with me a basket of tiny
fir-trees from the tops of the Tatras; and after carrying the basket to
and around Vienna, Florence, and Genoa, I finally got the trees home
in good condition and proudly added them to the "Forest of Arden" on my
place at Moylan.
XVII. VALE!
In looking back over the ten years of my administration as president
of the National American Woman Suffrage Association, there can be no
feeling but gratitude and elation over the growth of the work. Our
membership has grown from 17,000 women to more than 200,000, and the
number of auxiliary societies has increased in proportion.
Instead of the old-time experience of one campaign in ten years, we
now have from five to ten campaigns each year. From an original yearly
expenditure of $14,000 or $15,000 in our campaign work, we now expend
from $40,000 to $50,000. In New York, in 1915, we have already received
pledges of $150,000 for the New York State campaign alone, while
Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and New Jersey have made pledges in
proportion.
In 1906 full suffrage prevailed in four states; we now have it in
twelve. Our movement has advanced from its academic stage until it
has become a vital political factor; no reform in the country is more
heralded by the press or receives more attention from the public. It has
become an issue which engages the attention of the entire nation--and
toward this result every woman working for the Cause has contributed to
an inspiring degree. Splendid team-work, and that alone, has made
our present success possible and our eventual triumph in every state
inevitable. Every officer in our organization, every leader in our
campaigns, every speaker, every worker in the ranks, however humble, has
done her share.
I do not claim anything so fantastic and Utopian as universal harmony
among us. We have had our troubles and our differences. I have had mine.
At every annual convention since the one at Washington in 1910 there has
been an effort to depose me from the presidency. There have been some
splendid fighters among my opponents--fine and high-minded women who
sincerely believe that at sixty-eight I am getting too old for my big
job. Possibly I am. Certainly I shall resign it with alacrity when the
majority of women in the organization wish me to do so. At present a
large majority proves annually that it still has faith in my leadership,
and with this assurance I am content to work on.
Looking back over the period covered by these reminiscences, I realize
that there is truth in the grave charge that I am no longer young; and
this truth was once voiced by one of my little nieces in a way that
brought it strongly home to me. She and her small sister of six had
declared themselves suffragettes, and as the first result of their
conversion to the Cause both had been laughed at by their schoolmates.
The younger child came home after this tragic experience, weeping
bitterly and declaring that she did not wish to be a suffragette any
more--an exhibition of apostasy for which her wise sister of eight took
her roundly to task.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself," she demanded, "to stop just because
you have been laughed at once? Look at Aunt Anna! SHE has been laughed
at for hundreds of years!"
I sometimes feel that it has indeed been hundreds of years since my work
began; and then again it seems so brief a time that, by listening for
a moment, I fancy I can hear the echo of my childish-voice preaching to
the trees in the Michigan woods.
But long or short, the one sure thing is that, taking it all in all, the
struggles, the discouragements, the failures, and the little victories,
the fight has been, as Susan B. Anthony said in her last hours, "worth
while." Nothing bigger can come to a human being than to love a great
Cause more than life itself, and to have the privilege throughout life
of working for that Cause.
As for life's other gifts, I have had some of them, too. I have made
many friendships; I have looked upon the beauty of many lands; I have
the assurance of the respect and affection of thousands of men and women
I have never even met. Though I have given all I had, I have received a
thousand times more than I have given. Neither the world nor my Cause is
indebted to me but from the depths of a full and very grateful heart I
acknowledge my lasting indebtedness to them both.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of a Pioneer, by Anna Howard Shaw