A WOMAN'S PEACE CRUSADE
I had felt a great opposition to Louis Napoleon from the period of the
infamous act of treachery and violence which made him emperor. The
Franco-Prussian war was little understood by the world at large. To us
in America its objects were entirely unknown. On general principles of
good-will and sympathy we were as much grieved as surprised at the
continual defeats sustained by the French. For so brave and soldierly a
nation to go through such a war without a single victory seemed a
strange travesty of history. When to the immense war indemnity the
conquerors added the spoliation of two important provinces, indignation
added itself to regret. The suspicion at once suggested itself that
Germany had very willingly given a pretext for the war, having known
enough of the demoralized condition of France to be sure of an easy
victory, and intending to make the opportunity serve for the forcible
annexation of provinces long coveted.
As I was revolving these matters in my mind, while the war was still in
progress, I was visited by a sudden feeling of the cruel and unnecessary
character of the contest. It seemed to me a return to barbarism, the
issue having been one which might easily have been settled without
bloodshed. The question forced itself upon me, "Why do not the mothers
of mankind interfere in these matters, to prevent the waste of that
human life of which they alone bear and know the cost?" I had never
thought of this before. The august dignity of motherhood and its
terrible responsibilities now appeared to me in a new aspect, and I
could think of no better way of expressing my sense of these than that
of sending forth an appeal to womanhood throughout the world, which I
then and there composed. I did not dare to make this public without the
advice of some wise counselor, and sought such an one in the person of
Rev. Charles T. Brooks of Newport, a beloved friend and esteemed pastor.
The little document which I drew up in the heat of my enthusiasm
implored women, all the world over, to awake to the knowledge of the
sacred right vested in them as mothers to protect the human life which
costs them so many pangs. I did not doubt but that my appeal would find
a ready response in the hearts of great numbers of women throughout the
limits of civilization. I invited these imagined helpers to assist me in
calling and holding a congress of women in London, and at once began a
wide task of correspondence for the realization of this plan. My first
act was to have my appeal translated into various languages, to wit:
French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Swedish, and to distribute copies
of it as widely as possible. I devoted the next two years almost
entirely to correspondence with leading women in various countries. I
also held two important meetings in New York, at which the cause of
peace and the ability of women to promote it were earnestly presented.
At the first of these, which took place in the late autumn of 1870, Mr.
Bryant gave me his venerable presence and valuable words. At the second,
in the spring following, David Dudley Field, an eminent member of the
New York bar, and a lifelong advocate of international arbitration, made
a very eloquent and convincing address.
[Illustration: SAMUEL GRIDLEY HOWE
_From a photograph by A. Marshall, 1870, in the
possession of the Massachusetts Club._]
In the spring of the year 1872 I visited England, hoping by my personal
presence to effect the holding of a Woman's Peace Congress in the great
metropolis of the civilized world. In Liverpool, I called upon Mrs.
Josephine Butler, whose labors in behalf of her sex were already well
known in America. Mrs. Butler said to me, "Mrs. Howe, you have come at a
fortunate moment. The cruel immorality of our army regulations,
separating so great a number of our men from family life, is much in the
public mind just at present. This is a good time in which to present the
merits and the bearings of peace." Mrs. Butler suggested that I might
easily find opportunities of speaking in various parts of England, and
added some names to the list of friends of peace with which I had
already provided myself. Among these were Mr. and Mrs. Stephen
Winkworth, whose hospitality I enjoyed for some days, on my way to
London. This couple belonged to the society of Friends, but had much to
say about the theistic movement in the society. In London Mrs. Winkworth
went with me, one Sunday, to the morning service of Rev. Charles Voysey.
The lesson for the day was taken from the writings of Theodore Parker.
We spoke with Mr. Voysey after the sermon. He said, "I had chosen those
passages from Parker with great care." After my own copious experiences
of dissent in various forms, Mr. Voysey's sermon did not present any
very novel interest.
I had come to London to do everything in my power to found and foster
what I may call "a Woman's Apostolate of Peace," though I had not then
hit upon that name. For aid and counsel, I relied much upon the presence
in London of my friend, Rev. William Henry Channing, a man of almost
angelic character. I think it must have been through his good offices
that I was invited both as guest and as speaker to the public banquet of
the Unitarian Association. I confess that it was not without trepidation
that I heard the toast-master say to the assembled company, "I crave
your attention for Julia Ward Howe." My heart, however, was so full of
my theme that I spoke very readily, without hesitation, and, if I might
judge by the applause which followed, with some acceptance. Sir John
Bowring now made my acquaintance, and complimented me upon my speech.
The eloquent French preacher, Athanase Coquerel, also spoke with me. The
occasion was to me a memorable one.
I had already attended the anniversary meeting of the English Peace
Society, and had asked permission to speak, which had been denied me on
the ground that women never had spoken at these meetings. Finding but
little encouragement for my efforts from existing societies in London, I
decided to hire a hall of moderate size, where I myself might speak on
Sunday afternoons. The Freemasons' Tavern presented one just suited to
my undertaking. With the help of a friend, the meeting was properly
advertised, and I betook myself thither on the first Sunday afternoon,
strong in the belief that my effort was of the right sort, but very
uncertain as to its result. Arriving at Freemasons' Tavern, I asked the
doorkeeper whether there was any one in the hall. "Oh, yes! a good
many," he said. I entered and found quite a numerous company. My
procedure was very simple,--a prayer, the reading of a hymn, and a
discourse from a Scripture text. I had prepared this last with
considerable care, and kept the manuscript of it beside me, but my
memory enabled me to give the substance of what I had written without
referring to the paper.
My impression is that I spoke in this way on some five or six Sundays.
Of all these discourses, I remember only the last one, of which the text
was, "I am persuaded that neither height nor depth, nor any other
creature," etc. The attendance was very good throughout, and I cherished
the hope that I had sown some seed which would bear fruit thereafter. I
remember that our own poet, Thomas William Parsons, happening to be in
London at this time, suggested to me a poem of Mrs. Stowe's as very
suitable to be read at one of my Sunday services. It was the one
beginning:--
"When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,"
and I am glad to remember that I did read it as advised.
My work in London brought me in contact with a number of prominent
workers in various departments of public service. My acquaintance with
Miss Frances Power Cobbe was pleasantly renewed, and I remember
attending an afternoon reception at her house, at which a number of
literary notabilities were present, among them the brilliant historian,
Mr. Froude. I had the pleasure also of meeting Mrs. Peter Taylor,
founder of a college for working women; she and her husband had been
very friendly to the Northern side during the civil war.
An important movement had been set on foot just at this time by Mrs.
Grey and her sister, Miss Sherret. This was the institution of schools
for girls of the middle class, whose education, up to that time, had
usually been conducted at home by a governess. Mrs. Grey encountered a
good deal of opposition in carrying out her plans. She invited me to
attend a meeting in the Albert Hall, Kensington, where these plans were
to be fully discussed. The Bishop of Manchester spoke in opposition to
the proposed schools. He took occasion to make mention of a visit which
he had recently made to the United States, and to characterize the
education there given to girls as merely "ambitious." The scheme, in his
view, involved a confusion of ranks which, in England, would be
inadmissible. "Lady Wilhelmina from Grosvenor Square," he averred,
"would never consent to sit beside the grocer's daughter."
I was invited to speak after the bishop, and could not avoid taking him
up on this point. "In my own country," I said, "the young lady who
corresponds to the lady from Grosvenor Square does sit beside the
grocer's daughter, and when the two have enjoyed the same advantages of
education, it is not always easy to be sure which is which." I had been
privately requested to say nothing about woman suffrage, to which Mrs.
Grey had not then given in her adhesion. I did, however, mention the
opening of the professions to women in my own country. Mrs. Grey thanked
me for my speech, but said, "Oh, dear Mrs. Howe, why did you speak of
the women ministers?" Some five or six years after this time I chanced
to meet Mrs. Grey in Rome. She assured me that the middle-class schools
had proved a great success, and said that young girls differing much
from each other in social rank had indeed sat beside each other, without
difficulty or trouble of any kind. I had heard that Mrs. Grey had become
a convert to woman suffrage, and asked her if this was true. She
replied, "Oh, yes; the moment that I began practically to work for
women, I found the suffrage an absolute necessity."
One of my pleasantest recollections of my visit to England is that of a
day or two passed in Cambridge, where I enjoyed the hospitality of
Professor J. R. Seeley, author of "Ecce Homo." I do not now recall the
circumstances which took me to the great university town, but I remember
with gratitude the Seeley mansion, as one should do who was made at home
there. Mr. Seeley lent a kind ear to my plea for a combination of women
in behalf of a world's peace. I had also the pleasure of hearing a
lecture from him on Edmund Burke, whose liberalism he considered rather
sporadic than chronic, an expression of sentiment called forth by some
exceptional emergency, while the eloquent speaker remained a
conservative at heart. He did not, as he might have done, explain such
inconsistencies on the simple ground of Burke's Irish blood, which gave
him genius but not the logic of consistency. Mrs. Seeley was a very
amiable and charming woman. I remember that her husband read to me
Calverley's clever take-off of Browning, and that we all laughed
heartily over it. A morning ramble made me aware of the beauty of the
river banks. I attended a Sunday service in King's College Chapel, with
its wonderful stone roof. Here also I made the acquaintance of Miss
Clough, sister to the poet. She presided at this time over a household
composed of young lady students, to whom some of the university courses
were open, and who were also allowed to profit by private lessons from
some of the professors of the university. Miss Clough was tall and
dark-eyed, like her brother, her hair already whitening, though she was
still in the vigor of middle age. She appeared to be greatly interested
in her charge. I spoke with some of her students, and learned that most
of them intended to become teachers.
So ends this arduous but pleasant episode of my peace crusade. I will
only mention one feature more in connection with it. I had desired to
institute a festival which should be observed as mothers' day, and which
should be devoted to the advocacy of peace doctrines. I chose for this
the second day of June, this being a time when flowers are abundant, and
when the weather usually allows of open-air meetings. I had some success
in carrying out this plan. In Boston I held the Mothers' Day meeting for
quite a number of years. The day was also observed in other places, once
or twice in Constantinople, and often in places nearer home. My heart
was gladdened, this last year, by learning from a friend that a peace
association in Philadelphia still celebrates Mothers' Day.
I was very sorry to give up this special work, but in my prosecution of
it I could not help seeing that many steps were to be taken before one
could hope to effect any efficient combination among women. The time for
this was at hand, but had not yet arrived. Insensibly, I came to devote
my time and strength to the promotion of the women's clubs, which are
doing so much to constitute a working and united womanhood.
During my stay in England, I received many invitations to address
meetings in various parts of the country. In compliance with these, I
visited Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Bristol, and Carlisle. In Bristol
I was the guest of Mary Carpenter, who gave me some friendly advice
regarding the convention which I hoped to hold in London. She assured me
that such a meeting could have no following unless the call for it were
dignified by the name of some prominent member of the English
aristocracy. In this view, she strongly advised me to write to the
Duchess of Argyll, requesting an interview at which I might speak to her
of my plans. I did write the letter, and obtained the interview. The
Duchess, with whom I had had some acquaintance for many years, invited
me to luncheon on a certain day. I found her, surrounded by her numerous
family of daughters, the youngest of whom carried round a dish of fruit
at dessert. Luncheon being at an end, the Duchess granted me a short
tete-a-tete. "My only objection to a lady's speaking in public," she
said, "is based upon St. Paul's saying: 'I suffer not a woman to teach,'
etc." I replied, "Yes; but remember that, in another place, he says that
a woman may prophesy wearing a veil." She assented to this statement,
but did not appear to interest herself much in my plan of a Woman's
Peace Congress. She had always been much interested in Dr. Howe's work,
and began to ask me about him, and about Charles Sumner, for whom she
entertained great regard. Messages were presently sent in to the effect
that the carriage was waiting for the afternoon drive, and I took my
leave, expecting no help from this very amiable and estimable lady.
Before the beginning of my Sunday services, I received a letter from Mr.
Aaron Powell of New York, asking me to attend a Peace Congress about to
be held in Paris, as a delegate. I accordingly crossed the Channel, and
reached Paris in time to attend the principal seance of the congress. It
was not numerously attended. The speakers all read their discourses from
manuscript. The general tone was timid and subdued. Something was said
regarding the then recent Franco-Prussian war, and the growing humanity
shown by both of the contending parties in the mutual arrangements for
taking care of the wounded. I presented my credentials, and asked leave
to speak. With some embarrassment, I was told that I might speak to the
officers of the society, when the public meeting should be adjourned. I
accordingly met a dozen or more of these gentlemen in a side room, where
I simply spoke of my endeavors to enlist the sympathies and efforts of
women in behalf of the world's peace.
Returning to London, I had the privilege of attending as a delegate one
of the great Prison Reform meetings of our day.
As well as I can remember, each day of the congress had its own
president, and not the least interesting of these days was that on which
Cardinal Manning presided. I remember well his domed forehead and pale,
transparent complexion, telling unmistakably of his ascetic life. He was
obviously much interested in Prison Reform, and well cognizant of its
progress. An esteemed friend and fellow country-woman of mine, Mrs.
Elizabeth B. Chace of Rhode Island, was also accredited as a delegate to
this congress. At one of its meetings she read a short paper, giving
some account of her own work in the prisons of her State. At this
meeting, the question of flogging prisoners came up, and a rather brutal
jailer of the old school told an anecdote of a refractory prisoner who
had been easily reduced to obedience by this summary method. His rough
words stirred my heart within me. I felt that I must speak; and Mrs.
Chace kindly arose, and said to the presiding officer, "I beg that Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe of Boston may be heard before this debate is closed."
Leave being given, I stood up and said my say, arguing earnestly that no
man could be made better by being degraded. I can only well recall a
part of my little speech, which was, I need scarcely say, quite
unpremeditated:--
"It is related of the famous Beau Brummel that a gentleman who called
upon him one morning met a valet carrying away a tray of neckcloths,
more or less disordered. 'What are these?' asked the visitor; and the
servant replied, 'These are our failures.' Even thus may society point
to the criminals whom she dismisses from her presence. Of these men and
women, whom she has failed to train in the ways of virtue and of
industry, she may well say: 'These are our failures.'"
My words were much applauded, and I think the vote taken was against the
punishment in question. The sittings of the congress were mainly held in
the hall of the Temple, which is enriched with carvings and coats of
arms. Here, also, a final banquet was held, at which I was invited to
speak, and did so. Rev. Frederick Wines had an honored place in this
assembly, and his words were listened to with great attention. Miss
Carpenter came from Bristol to attend the congress, and I was present
when she presided over a section especially devoted to women prisoners.
A number of the addresses presented at the congress were in foreign
languages. A synopsis of these was furnished on the spot by an apt
translator. I recall the whole occasion as one of great interest.
I must not forget to mention the fact that the only daughter of Edward
Livingston, author of the criminal code of the State of Louisiana, was
an honored guest at this congress. The meetings at which I spoke in
different parts of England were usually presided over by some important
personage, such as the mayor of the city. On one occasion a man of the
people, quite popular in his way, expressed his warm approval of my
peace doctrine, and concluded his remarks by saying, "Mrs. Howe, I offer
you the hand of the Tyne-side Orator."
All these efforts were intended to lead up to the final meeting which I
had determined to hold in London, and which I did hold in St. George's
Hall, a place very suitable for such occasions. At this meeting, Mr. and
Mrs. Jacob Bright sat with me on the platform, and the venerable Sir
John Bowring spoke at some length, leaning on his staff as became his
age. The attendance was very good. The meeting was by no means what I
had hoped that it might be. The ladies who spoke in public in those days
mostly confined their labors to the advocacy of woman suffrage, and were
not much interested in my scheme of a world-wide protest of women
against the cruelties of war. I found indeed some helpful allies among
my own sex. Two sisters of John Bright, Mrs. Margaret Lucas and Mrs.
Maclaren, aided me with various friendly offices, and through their
instrumentality the money which I had expended in the hire of halls was
returned to me. I had not in any way suggested or expected this, but as
I was working entirely at my own cost the assistance was very welcome
and opportune.
I cannot leave this time without recalling the gracious figure of
Athanase Coquerel. I had met this remarkable man in London at the
anniversary banquet of the British Unitarian Association. It was in this
country, however, that I first heard his eloquent and convincing speech,
the occasion being a sermon given by him at the Unitarian Church of
Newport, R. I., in the summer of the year 1873. It happened on this
Sunday that the poet Bryant, John Dwight, and Parke Godwin were seated
near me. All of them expressed great admiration of the discourse, and
one exclaimed, "That French art, how wonderful it is!" The text chosen
was this: "And greater works than these shall ye do."
"How could this be?" asked the preacher. "How could the work of the
disciples be greater than that of the Master? In one sense only. It
could not be greater in spirit or in character. It could be greater in
extent."
The revolution in France occasioned by the Franco-Prussian war was much
in the public mind at this time, and the extraordinary crisis of the
Commune was almost unexplained. As soon as I found an opportunity of
conversing with Monsieur Coquerel, I besought him to set before us the
true solution of these matters in the lectures which he was about to
deliver.
He consented to do so, and in one of his discourses represented the
Commune as the result of a state of exasperation on the part of the
people of Paris. They saw their country invaded by hostile armies, their
sacred city beleaguered. In the desperation of their distress, all
longed to take active part in some counter movement, and the most brutal
and ignorant part of the populace were turned, by artful leaders, to
this work of destruction. The speaker gave a very moving account of the
hardships of the siege of Paris, the privations endured of food and
fuel, the sacrifice of costly furniture as fire-wood to keep alive
children in imminent danger of death. In the midst of the tumults and
horrors enumerated, he introduced the description of the funeral of an
eminent scientist. The quiet cortege moved on to the cemetery where halt
was made, and the several speakers of the occasion, as if oblivious of
the agonies of the hour, bore willing testimony to the merits and good
work of their departed colleague.
The principal object of Monsieur Coquerel's visit to this country was to
collect funds for the building of a church in Paris which should grandly
and truly represent liberal Christianity. I fear that his success in
this undertaking fell far short of the end which he had hoped to attain.
His death occurred not long after his return to France, and I do not
know whether the first stone of his proposed edifice was ever laid.