Eighty Years and More; Reminiscences 1815-1897
puddings. Then we would get out our pens and write articles for papers,
or a petition to the legislature; indite letters to the faithful, here
and there; stir up the women in Ohio, Pennsylvania, or Massachusetts;
call on _The Lily, The Una, The Liberator, The Standard_ to remember our
wrongs as well as those of the slave. We never met without issuing a
pronunciamento on some question. In thought and sympathy we were one,
and in the division of labor we exactly complemented each other. In
writing we did better work than either could alone. While she is slow
and analytical in composition, I am rapid and synthetic. I am the better
writer, she the better critic. She supplied the facts and statistics, I
the philosophy and rhetoric, and, together, we have made arguments that
have stood unshaken through the storms of long years; arguments that no
one has answered. Our speeches may be considered the united product of
our two brains.
So entirely one are we that, in all our associations, ever side by side
on the same platform, not one feeling of envy or jealousy has ever
shadowed our lives. We have indulged freely in criticism of each other
when alone, and hotly contended whenever we have differed, but in our
friendship of years there has never been the break of one hour. To the
world we always seem to agree and uniformly reflect each other. Like
husband and wife, each has the feeling that we must have no differences
in public. Thus united, at an early day we began to survey the state and
nation, the future field of our labors. We read, with critical eyes, the
proceedings of Congress and legislatures, of general assemblies and
synods, of conferences and conventions, and discovered that, in all
alike, the existence of woman was entirely ignored.
Night after night, by an old-fashioned fireplace, we plotted and planned
the coming agitation; how, when, and where each entering wedge could be
driven, by which women might be recognized and their rights secured.
Speedily the State was aflame with disturbances in temperance and
teachers' conventions, and the press heralded the news far and near that
women delegates had suddenly appeared, demanding admission in men's
conventions; that their rights had been hotly contested session after
session, by liberal men on the one side, the clergy and learned
professors on the other; an overwhelming majority rejecting the women
with terrible anathemas and denunciations. Such battles were fought over
and over in the chief cities of many of the Northern States, until the
bigotry of men in all the reforms and professions was thoroughly
exposed. Every right achieved, to enter a college, to study a
profession, to labor in some new industry, or to advocate a reform
measure was contended for inch by inch.
Many of those enjoying all these blessings now complacently say, "If
these pioneers in reform had only pressed their measures more
judiciously, in a more ladylike manner, in more choice language, with a
more deferential attitude, the gentlemen could not have behaved so
rudely." I give, in these pages, enough of the characteristics of these
women, of the sentiments they expressed, of their education, ancestry,
and position to show that no power could have met the prejudice and
bigotry of that period more successfully than they did who so bravely
and persistently fought and conquered them.
Miss Anthony first carried her flag of rebellion into the State
conventions of teachers, and there fought, almost single-handed, the
battle for equality. At the close of the first decade she had compelled
conservatism to yield its ground so far as to permit women to
participate in all debates, deliver essays, vote, and hold honored
positions as officers. She labored as sincerely in the temperance
movement, until convinced that woman's moral power amounted to little as
a civil agent, until backed by ballot and coined into State law. She
still never loses an occasion to defend co-education and prohibition,
and solves every difficulty with the refrain, "woman suffrage," as
persistent as the "never more" of Poe's raven.
CHAPTER XI.
SUSAN B. ANTHONY--_Continued_.
It was in 1852 that anti-slavery, through the eloquent lips of such men
as George Thompson, Phillips, and Garrison, first proclaimed to Miss
Anthony its pressing financial necessities. To their inspired words she
gave answer, four years afterward, by becoming a regularly employed
agent in the Anti-slavery Society. For her espoused cause she has always
made boldest demands. In the abolition meetings she used to tell each
class why it should support the movement financially; invariably calling
upon Democrats to give liberally, as the success of the cause would
enable them to cease bowing the knee to the slave power.
There is scarce a town, however small, from New York to San Francisco,
that has not heard her ringing voice. Who can number the speeches she
has made on lyceum platforms, in churches, schoolhouses, halls, barns,
and in the open air, with a lumber wagon or a cart for her rostrum? Who
can describe the varied audiences and social circles she has cheered and
interested? Now we see her on the far-off prairies, entertaining, with
sterling common sense, large gatherings of men, women, and children,
seated on rough boards in some unfinished building; again, holding
public debates in some town with half-fledged editors and clergymen;
next, sailing up the Columbia River and, in hot haste to meet some
appointment, jolting over the rough mountains of Oregon and Washington;
and then, before legislative assemblies, constitutional conventions, and
congressional committees, discussing with senators and judges the letter
and spirit of constitutional law.
Miss Anthony's style of speaking is rapid and vehement. In debate she is
ready and keen, and she is always equal to an emergency. Many times in
traveling with her through the West, especially on our first trip to
Kansas and California, we were suddenly called upon to speak to the
women assembled at the stations. Filled with consternation, I usually
appealed to her to go first; and, without a moment's hesitation, she
could always fill five minutes with some appropriate words and inspire
me with thoughts and courage to follow. The climax of these occasions
was reached in an institution for the deaf and dumb in Michigan. I had
just said to my friend, "There is one comfort in visiting this place; we
shall not be asked to speak," when the superintendent, approaching us,
said, "Ladies, the pupils are assembled in the chapel, ready to hear
you. I promised to invite you to speak to them as soon as I heard you
were in town." The possibility of addressing such an audience was as
novel to Miss Anthony as to me; yet she promptly walked down the aisle
to the platform, as if to perform an ordinary duty, while I, half
distracted with anxiety, wondering by what process I was to be placed in
communication with the deaf and dumb, reluctantly followed. But the
manner was simple enough, when illustrated. The superintendent, standing
by our side, repeated, in the sign language, what was said as fast as
uttered; and by laughter, tears, and applause, the pupils showed that
they fully appreciated the pathos, humor, and argument.
One night, crossing the Mississippi at McGregor, Iowa, we were icebound
in the middle of the river. The boat was crowded with people, hungry,
tired, and cross with the delay. Some gentlemen, with whom we had been
talking on the cars, started the cry, "Speech on woman suffrage!"
Accordingly, in the middle of the Mississippi River, at midnight, we
presented our claims to political representation, and debated the
question of universal suffrage until we landed. Our voyagers were quite
thankful that we had shortened the many hours, and we equally so at
having made several converts and held a convention on the very bosom of
the great "Mother of Waters." Only once in all these wanderings was Miss
Anthony taken by surprise, and that was on being asked to speak to the
inmates of an insane asylum. "Bless me!" said she, "it is as much as I
can do to talk to the sane! What could I say to an audience of
lunatics?" Her companion, Virginia L. Minor of St. Louis, replied: "This
is a golden moment for you, the first opportunity you have ever had,
according to the constitutions, to talk to your 'peers,' for is not the
right of suffrage denied to 'idiots, criminals, lunatics, and women'?"
Much curiosity has been expressed as to the love-life of Miss Anthony;
but, if she has enjoyed or suffered any of the usual triumphs or
disappointments of her sex, she has not yet vouchsafed this information
to her biographers. While few women have had more sincere and lasting
friendships, or a more extensive correspondence with a large circle of
noble men, yet I doubt if one of them can boast of having received from
her any exceptional attention. She has often playfully said, when
questioned on this point, that she could not consent that the man she
loved, described in the Constitution as a white male, native born,
American citizen, possessed of the right of self-government, eligible to
the office of President of the great Republic, should unite his
destinies in marriage with a political slave and pariah. "No, no; when I
am crowned with all the rights, privileges, and immunities of a citizen,
I may give some consideration to this social institution; but until then
I must concentrate all my energies on the enfranchisement of my own
sex." Miss Anthony's love-life, like her religion, has manifested itself
in steadfast, earnest labors for men in general. She has been a watchful
and affectionate daughter, sister, friend, and those who have felt the
pulsations of her great heart know how warmly it beats for all.
As the custom has long been observed, among married women, of
celebrating the anniversaries of their wedding-day, quite properly the
initiative has been taken, in late years, of doing honor to the great
events in the lives of single women. Being united in closest bonds to
her profession, Dr. Harriet K. Hunt of Boston celebrated her
twenty-fifth year of faithful services as a physician by giving to her
friends and patrons a large reception, which she called her silver
wedding. From a feeling of the sacredness of her life work, the admirers
of Susan B. Anthony have been moved to mark, by reception and
convention, her rapid-flowing years and the passing decades of the
suffrage movement. To the most brilliant occasion of this kind, the
invitation cards were as follows:
The ladies of the Woman's Bureau invite you to a reception on
Tuesday evening, February 15th, to celebrate the fiftieth birthday
of Susan B. Anthony, when her friends will have an opportunity to
show their appreciation of her long services in behalf of woman's
emancipation.
No. 49 East 23d St., New York,
February 10, 1870.
Elizabeth B. Phelps,
Anna B. Darling,
Charlotte Beebe Wilbour.
In response to the invitation, the parlors of the bureau were crowded
with friends to congratulate Miss Anthony on the happy event, many
bringing valuable gifts as an expression of their gratitude. Among other
presents were a handsome gold watch and checks to the amount of a
thousand dollars. The guests were entertained with music, recitations,
the reading of many piquant letters of regret from distinguished people,
and witty rhymes written for the occasion by the Cary sisters. Miss
Anthony received her guests with her usual straightforward simplicity,
and in a few earnest words expressed her thanks for the presents and
praises showered upon her. The comments of the leading journals, next
day, were highly complimentary, and as genial as amusing. All dwelt on