The Federation of Women's Clubs!
Two thousand women gathered in the name of--what?
Why, of culture, of literature, of sisterhood, of benevolence, of music,
art, town beautification, the abolition of child-labor, the abolition of
sweat-shops, the extension of peace and opportunity.
And run how? By politics, sharp and keen, far-seeing and combative.
The results? The coöperation of forceful women, the encouragement of
timid ones; the development of certain forms of talent, and the
destruction of some old-time virtues.
The balance? On the side of good, incontestably.
"Yes, it's on the side of good," said Honora, who was, after all, like a
nun (save that her laboratory had been her cell, and a man's fame her
passion), and who therefore brought to this vast, highly energized,
capable, various gathering a judgment unprejudiced, unworldly, and
clear. As she saw these women of many types, from all of the States,
united in great causes, united, too, in the cultivation of things not
easy of definition, she felt that, in spite of drawbacks, it must be
good. She listened to their papers, heard their earnest propaganda. A
distinguished Jewess from New York told of the work among the
immigrants and the methods by which they were created into intelligent
citizens; a beautiful Kentuckian spoke of the work among the white
mountaineers; a very venerable gentlewoman from Chicago, exquisitely
frail, talked on behalf of the children in factories; a crisp, curt,
efficient woman from Oregon advocated the dissemination of books among
the "lumber-jacks." They were ingenious in their pursuit of
benevolences, and their annual reports were the impersonal records of
personal labors. They had started libraries, made little parks,
inaugurated playgrounds, instituted exchanges for the sale of women's
wares, secured women internes in hospitals, paid for truant officers,
founded children's protective associations, installed branches of the
Associated Charities, encouraged night schools, circulated art exhibits
and traveling libraries; they had placed pictures in the public schools,
founded kindergartens--the list seemed inexhaustible.
"Oh, decidedly," Kate granted Honora, "the thing seems to be good."
Moreover, there was good being done of a less assertive but equally
commendable nature. The lines of section grew vague when the social
Georgian sat side by side with the genial woman from Michigan. Mrs.
Johnson of Minnesota and Mrs. Cabot of Massachusetts, Mrs. Hardin of
Kentucky and Mrs. Garcia of California, found no essential differences
in each other. Ladies, the world over, have a similarity of tastes. So,
as they lunched, dined, and drove together they established
relationships more intimate than their convention hall could have
fostered. If they had dissensions, these were counterbalanced by the
exchange of amenities. If their points of view diverged in lesser
matters, they converged in great ones.
And then the women of few opportunities--the farmers' wives representing
their earnest clubs; the village women, wistful and rather shy; the
emergent, onlooking company of few excursions, few indulgences--what of
the Federation for them? At first, perhaps, they feared it; but
cautiously, like unskilled swimmers, they took their experimental
strokes. They found themselves secure; heard themselves applauded. They
acquired boldness, and presently were exhilarated by the consciousness
of their own power. If the great Federation could be cruel, it could be
kind, too. One thing it had stood for from the first, and by that thing
it still abided--the undeviating, disinterested determination
to help women develop themselves. So the faltering voice was
listened to, and the report of the eager, kind-eyed woman from the
little-back-water-of-the-world was heard with interest. The Federation
knew the value of this woman who said what she meant, and did what she
promised. They sent her home to her town to be an inspiration. She was a
little torch, carrying light.
Day succeeded day. From early morning till late at night the great
convention read its papers, ate its luncheons, held its committee
meetings--talked, aspired, lobbied, schemed, prayed, sang, rejoiced!
Culture was splendidly on its way--progress was the watchword! It was
wonderful and amusing and superb.
The Feminine mind, much in action, shooting back and forth like a
shuttle, was weaving a curious and admirable fabric. There might be some
trouble in discerning the design, but it was there, and if it was not
arrestingly original, at least it was interesting. In places it was even
beautiful. Now and then it gave suggestions of the grotesque. It was
shot through with the silver of talent, the gold of genius. And with all
of its defects it was splendid because the warp thereof was purpose and
the woof enthusiasm.
* * * * *
Kate's day came. The great theater was packed--not a vacant seat
remained. For it was mid-afternoon, the sun was shining, and the day was
the last one of the convention.
The president presided with easy authority. It became her--that seat.
Her keen eyes expressed themselves as being satisfied; her handsome head
was carried proudly. Her voice, of medium pitch, had an accent of
gracious command. She presented to the eye a pleasing, nay, an artistic,
picture, and the very gown she wore was a symbol of efficiency--sign to
the initiate.
Kate's heart was fluttering, her mouth dry. She greeted her chairwoman
somewhat tremulously, and then faced her audience.
For a moment she faltered. Then a face came before her--Karl's face.
She did not so much wish to succeed for him as in despite of him. He had
said she would reach her greatest importance through her relationship to
him. At that moment she thrilled to the belief that, independently of
him, she was still important.
The great assemblage had ears for her. The idea of an extension of
motherhood, an organized, scientific supervision of children, made an
appeal such as nothing else could. For, after all, persistently--almost
irritatingly, at times--this great federation, which was supposed to
concern itself with many fine abstractions, swung back to that concrete
and essentially womanly idea of the care of children. Women who had
brought to it high messages of art and education had known what it was
to be exasperated into speechlessness by what they were pleased to
denominate the maternal obsession.
Kate swung them back to it now, by means of impersonal rather than
personal arguments. She did not idealize paternity. She was bitterly
well aware by this time that parents were no better than other folk, and
that only a small proportion of those to whom the blessing came were
qualified or willing to bear its responsibilities. She touched on
eugenics--its advantages and its limitations; she referred to the
inadequacy of present laws and protective measures. Then she went on to
describe what a Bureau of Children might be.
"The business of this bureau," she said, "will be the removal of
handicaps.
"Is the child blind, deaf, lame, tubercular, or possessed of any sorry
inheritance? The Bureau of Children will devise some method of easing
its way; some plan to save it from further degeneration. Is the child
talented, and in need of special training? Has it genius, and should it,
for the glory of the commonwealth and the enrichment of life, be given
the right of way? Then the Bureau of Children will see to it that such
provision is made. It will not be the idea merely to aid the deficient
and protect the vicious. Nor shall its highest aspiration be to serve
the average child, born of average parents. It would delight to reward
successful and devoted parents by giving especial opportunity to their
carefully trained and highly developed children. As the Bureau of
Agriculture labors to propagate the best species of trees, fruit, and
flowers, so we would labor to propagate the best examples of
humanity--the finest, most sturdily reared, best intelligenced boys
and girls.
"We would endeavor to prevent illness and loss of life among babies and
children. Our circulars would be distributed in all languages among all
of our citizens. We would employ specialists to direct the feeding,
clothing, and general rearing of the children of all conditions. We
would advocate the protection of children until they reached the age of
sixteen; and would endeavor to assist in the supervision of these
children until they were of legal age. My idea would be to have all
young people under twenty-one remain in a sense the wards of schools. If
they have had, at any early age, to leave school and take the burdens of
bread-winning upon their young shoulders and their untried hearts, then
I would advise an extension of school authority. The schools should be
provided with assistant superintendents whose business it would be to
help these young bread-winners find positions in keeping with their
tastes and abilities, thus aiding them in the most practical and
beneficent way, to hold their places in this struggling, modern world.
"It is an economic measure of the loftiest type. It will provide against
the waste of bodies and souls; it is a device for the conservation and
the scientific development of human beings. It is part and parcel of the
new, practical religion--a new prayer.
"'Prayer,' says the old hymn, 'is the soul's sincere desire.'
"Many of us have lost our belief in the old forms of prayer. We are
beginning to realize that, to a great extent, the answer to prayer lies
in our own hands. Our answers come when we use the powers that have been
bestowed upon us. More and more each year, those who employ their
intellects for constructive purposes are turning their energies toward
the betterment of the world. They have a new conception of 'the world to
come.' It means to them our good brown Mother Earth, warm and fecund and
laden with fruits for the consumption of her children as it may be
under happier conditions. They wish to increase the happiness of those
children, to elevate them physically and mentally, and to give their
spirits, too often imprisoned and degraded by hard circumstance, a
chance to grow.
"When you let the sunlight in to a stunted tree, with what exultant
gratitude it lifts itself toward the sun! How its branches greet the
wind and sing in them, how its little leaves come dancing out to make a
shelter for man and the birds and the furred brothers of the forest! But
this, wonderful and beautiful as it is, is but a small thing compared
with the way in which the soul of a stunted child--stunted by evil or by
sunless environment--leaps and grows and sings when the great spiritual
elements of love and liberty are permitted to reach it.
"You have talked of the conservation of forests; and you speak of a
great need--an imperative cause. I talk of the conservation of
children--which is a greater need and a holier right.
"Mammalia are numerous in this world; real mothers are rare. Can we lift
the mammalia up into the high estate of motherhood? I believe so. Can we
grow superlative children, as we grow superlative fruits and animals?
Oh, a thousand times, yes. I beg for your support of this new idea. Let
the spirit of inspiration enter into your reflections concerning it. Let
that concentration of purpose which you have learned in your clubs and
federations be your aid here.
"Most of you whom I see before me are no longer engaged actively in the
tasks of motherhood. The children have gone out from your homes into
homes of their own. You are left denuded and hungry for the old sweet
vocation. Your hands are too idle; your abilities lie unutilized. But
here is a task at hand. I do not say that you are to use this extension
to your motherhood for children alone, or merely in connection with this
proposed Bureau. I urge you, indeed, to employ it in all conceivable
ways. Be the mothers of men and women as well as of little children--the
mothers of communities--the mothers of the state. And as a focus to
these energies and disinterested activities, let us pray Washington to
give us the Bureau of Children."
She turned from her responsive audience to the chairwoman, who handed
her a yellow envelope.
"A telegram, Miss Barrington. Should I have given it to you before? I
disliked interrupting."
Kate tore it open.