Eighty Years and More; Reminiscences 1815-1897
possessions were stored in three wagons, and the farm which the mother
owned was sold before they commenced their long and perilous journey.
There was no reason for going except that the husband had the Western
fever. They were doing well in Illinois, on a large farm within two
miles of a village, but he had visions of a bonanza near the setting
sun. Accordingly they started. At the end of one month the baby died. A
piece of wood from the cradle was all they had to mark its lonely
resting place. With sad hearts they went on, and, in a few weeks, with
grief for her child, her old home, her kindred and friends, the mother
also died. She, too, was left alone on the far-off prairies, and the sad
pageant moved on. Another child soon shared the same fate, and then a
span of horses died, and one wagon, with all the things they could most
easily spare, was abandoned. Arrived at their destination none of the
golden dreams was realized. The expensive journey, the struggles in
starting under new circumstances, and the loss of the mother's thrift
and management, made the father so discouraged and reckless that much of
his property was wasted, and his earthly career was soon ended. Through
the heroic energy and good management of the eldest daughter, the little
patrimony, in time, was doubled, and the children well brought up and
educated in the rudiments of learning, so that all became respectable
members of society. Her advice to all young people is, if you are
comfortably established in the East, stay there. There is no royal road
to wealth and ease, even in the Western States!
In spite of the discomforts we suffered in the Kansas campaign, I was
glad of the experience. It gave me added self-respect to know that I
could endure such hardships and fatigue with a great degree of
cheerfulness. The Governor and I often laughed heartily, as we patiently
chewed our gum arabic and slippery elm, to think on what a gentle
stimulus we were accomplishing such wonderful feats as orators and
travelers. It was fortunate our intense enthusiasm for the subject gave
us all the necessary inspiration, as the supplies we gathered by the way
were by no means sufficiently invigorating for prolonged propagandism.
I enjoyed these daily drives over the vast prairies, listening to the
Governor's descriptions of the early days when the "bushwhackers and
jayhawkers" made their raids on the inhabitants of the young free State.
The courage and endurance of the women, surrounded by dangers and
discomforts, surpassed all description. I count it a great privilege to
have made the acquaintance of so many noble women and men who had passed
through such scenes and conquered such difficulties. They seemed to live
in an atmosphere altogether beyond their surroundings. Many educated
families from New England, disappointed in not finding the much talked
of bonanzas, were living in log cabins, in solitary places, miles from
any neighbors. But I found Emerson, Parker, Holmes, Hawthorne, Whittier,
and Lowell on their bookshelves to gladden their leisure hours.
Miss Anthony and I often comforted ourselves mid adverse winds with
memories of the short time we spent under Mother Bickerdyke's hospitable
roof at Salina. There we had clean, comfortable beds, delicious viands,
and everything was exquisitely neat. She entertained us with her
reminiscences of the War. With great self-denial she had served her
country in camp and hospital, and was with Sherman's army in that
wonderful march to the sea, and here we found her on the outpost of
civilization, determined to start what Kansas most needed--a good hotel.
But alas! it was too good for that latitude and proved a financial
failure. It was, to us, an oasis in the desert, where we would gladly
have lingered if the opposition would have come to us for conversion.
But, as we had to carry the gospel of woman's equality into the highways
and hedges, we left dear Mother Bickerdyke with profound regret. The
seed sown in Kansas in 1867 is now bearing its legitimate fruits. There
was not a county in the State where meetings were not held or tracts
scattered with a generous hand. If the friends of our cause in the East
had been true and had done for woman what they did for the colored man,
I believe both propositions would have been carried; but with a narrow
policy, playing off one against the other, both were defeated. A policy
of injustice always bears its own legitimate fruit in failure.
However, women learned one important lesson--namely, that it is
impossible for the best of men to understand women's feelings or the
humiliation of their position. When they asked us to be silent on our
question during the War, and labor for the emancipation of the slave, we
did so, and gave five years to his emancipation and enfranchisement. To
this proposition my friend, Susan B. Anthony, never consented, but was
compelled to yield because no one stood with her. I was convinced, at
the time, that it was the true policy. I am now equally sure that it was
a blunder, and, ever since, I have taken my beloved Susan's judgment
against the world. I have always found that, when we see eye to eye, we
are sure to be right, and when we pull together we are strong. After we
discuss any point together and fully agree, our faith in our united
judgment is immovable and no amount of ridicule and opposition has the
slightest influence, come from what quarter it may.
Together we withstood the Republicans and abolitionists, when, a second
time, they made us the most solemn promises of earnest labor for our
enfranchisement, when the slaves were safe beyond a peradventure. They
never redeemed their promise made during the War, hence, when they
urged us to silence in the Kansas campaign, we would not for a moment
entertain the proposition. The women generally awoke to their duty to
themselves. They had been deceived once and could not be again. If the
leaders in the Republican and abolition camps could deceive us, whom
could we trust?
Again we were urged to be silent on our rights, when the proposition to
take the word "white" out of the New York Constitution was submitted to
a vote of the people of the State, or, rather, to one-half the people,
as women had no voice in the matter. Again we said "No, no, gentlemen!
if the 'white' comes out of the Constitution, let the 'male' come out
also. Women have stood with the negro, thus far, on equal ground as
ostracized classes, outside the political paradise; and now, when the
door is open, it is but fair that we both should enter and enjoy all the
fruits of citizenship. Heretofore ranked with idiots, lunatics, and
criminals in the Constitution, the negro has been the only respectable
compeer we had; so pray do not separate us now for another twenty years,
ere the constitutional door will again be opened."
We were persistently urged to give all our efforts to get the word
"white" out, and thus secure the enfranchisement of the colored man, as
that, they said, would prepare the way for us to follow. Several editors
threatened that, unless we did so, their papers should henceforth do
their best to defeat every measure we proposed. But we were deaf alike
to persuasions and threats, thinking it wiser to labor for women,
constituting, as they did, half the people of the State, rather than for
a small number of colored men; who, viewing all things from the same
standpoint as white men, would be an added power against us.
The question settled in Kansas, we returned, with George Francis Train,
to New York. He offered to pay all the expenses of the journey and
meetings in all the chief cities on the way, and see that we were fully
and well reported in their respective journals. After prolonged
consultation Miss Anthony and I thought best to accept the offer and we
did so. Most of our friends thought it a grave blunder, but the result
proved otherwise. Mr. Train was then in his prime--a large, fine-looking
man, a gentleman in dress and manner, neither smoking, chewing,
drinking, nor gormandizing. He was an effective speaker and actor, as
one of his speeches, which he illustrated, imitating the poor wife at
the washtub and the drunken husband reeling in, fully showed. He gave
his audience charcoal sketches of everyday life rather than argument. He
always pleased popular audiences, and even the most fastidious were
amused with his caricatures. As the newspapers gave several columns to
our meetings at every point through all the States, the agitation was
widespread and of great value. To be sure our friends, on all sides,
fell off, and those especially who wished us to be silent on the
question of woman's rights, declared "the cause too sacred to be
advocated by such a charlatan as George Francis Train." We thought
otherwise, as the accession of Mr. Train increased the agitation
twofold. If these fastidious ladies and gentlemen had come out to Kansas
and occupied the ground and provided "the sinews of war," there would
have been no field for Mr. Train's labors, and we should have accepted
their services. But, as the ground was unoccupied, he had, at least,
the right of a reform "squatter" to cultivate the cardinal virtues and
reap a moral harvest wherever he could.
Reaching New York, Mr. Train made it possible for us to establish a
newspaper, which gave another impetus to our movement. The _Revolution_,
published by Susan B. Anthony and edited by Parker Pillsbury and myself,
lived two years and a half and was then consolidated with the New York
_Christian Enquirer_, edited by the Rev. Henry Bellows, D.D. I regard
the brief period in which I edited the _Revolution_ as one of the
happiest of my life, and I may add the most useful. In looking over the
editorials I find but one that I sincerely regret, and that was a retort
on Mr. Garrison, written under great provocation, but not by me, which
circumstances, at the time, forbade me to disown. Considering the
pressure brought to bear on Miss Anthony and myself, I feel now that our
patience and forbearance with our enemies in their malignant attacks on
our good, name, which we never answered, were indeed marvelous.
We said at all times and on all other subjects just what we thought, and
advertised nothing that we did not believe in. No advertisements of
quack remedies appeared in our columns. One of our clerks once published
a bread powder advertisement, which I did not see until the paper
appeared; so, in the next number, I said, editorially, what I thought of
it. I was alone in the office, one day, when a man blustered in. "Who,"
said he, "runs this concern?" "You will find the names of the editors
and publishers," I replied, "on the editorial page." "Are you one of
them?" "I am," I replied. "Well, do you know that I agreed to pay
twenty dollars to have that bread powder advertised for one month, and
then you condemn it editorially?" "I have nothing to do with the
advertising; Miss Anthony pays me to say what I think." "Have you any
more thoughts to publish on that bread powder?" "Oh, yes," I replied, "I
have not exhausted the subject yet." "Then," said he, "I will have the
advertisement taken out. What is there to pay for the one insertion?"
"Oh, nothing," I replied, "as the editorial probably did you more injury
than the advertisement did you good." On leaving, with prophetic vision,
he said, "I prophesy a short life for this paper; the business world is
based on quackery, and you cannot live without it." With melancholy
certainty, I replied, "I fear you are right."
CHAPTER XVII.
LYCEUMS AND LECTURERS.
The Lyceum Bureau was, at one time, a great feature in American life.
The three leading bureaus were in Boston, New York, and Chicago. The
managers, map in hand, would lay out trips, more or less extensive