Eighty Years and More; Reminiscences 1815-1897
love in matter as well as mind--these bluffs and the sons of Adam, too,
might not boast the altitude they glory in to-day. Those who have ears
to hear discern low, rumbling noises that foretell convulsions in our
social world that may, perchance, in the next upheaval, bring woman to
the surface; up, up, from gloomy ocean depths, dark caverns, and damper
valleys. The struggling daughters of earth are soon to walk in the
sunlight of a higher civilization.
Escorted by Mr. Woodward, a member of the bar, I devoted a day to the
lions of La Crosse. First we explored the courthouse, a large, new brick
building, from whose dome we had a grand view of the surrounding
country. The courtroom where justice is administered was large, clean,
airy--the bench carpeted and adorned with a large, green, stuffed chair,
in which I sat down, and, in imagination, summoned up advocates, jurors,
prisoners, and people, and wondered how I should feel pronouncing
sentence of death on a fellow-being, or, like Portia, wisely checkmating
the Shylocks of our times. Here I met Judge Hugh Cameron, formerly of
Johnstown. He invited us into his sanctum, where we had a pleasant chat
about our native hills, Scotch affiliations, the bench and bar of New
York, and the Wisconsin laws for women. The Judge, having maintained a
happy bachelor state, looked placidly on the aggressive movements of
the sex, as his domestic felicity would be no way affected, whether
woman was voted up or down.
We next surveyed the Pomeroy building, which contained a large,
tastefully finished hall and printing establishment, where the La Crosse
_Democrat_ was formerly published. As I saw the perfection, order, and
good taste, in all arrangements throughout, and listened to Mr. Huron's
description of the life and leading characteristics of its chief, it
seemed impossible to reconcile the tone of the _Democrat_ with the moral
status of its editor. I never saw a more complete business
establishment, and the editorial sanctum looked as if it might be the
abiding place of the Muses. Mirrors, pictures, statuary, books, music,
rare curiosities, and fine specimens of birds and minerals were
everywhere. Over the editor's table was a beautiful painting of his
youthful daughter, whose flaxen hair, blue eyes, and angelic face should
have inspired a father to nobler, purer, utterances than he was wont, at
that time, to give to the world.
But Pomeroy's good deeds will live long after his profane words are
forgotten. Throughout the establishment cards, set up in conspicuous
places, said, "Smoking here is positively forbidden." Drinking, too, was
forbidden to all his employés. The moment a man was discovered using
intoxicating drinks, he was dismissed. In the upper story of the
building was a large, pleasant room, handsomely carpeted and furnished,
where the employés, in their leisure hours, could talk, write, read, or
amuse themselves in any rational way.
Mr. Pomeroy was humane and generous with his employés, honorable in his
business relations, and boundless in his charities to the poor. His
charity, business honor, and public spirit were highly spoken of by
those who knew him best. That a journal does not always reflect the
editor is as much the fault of society as of the man. So long as the
public will pay for gross personalities, obscenity, and slang, decent
journals will be outbidden in the market. The fact that the La Crosse
_Democrat_ found a ready sale in all parts of the country showed that
Mr. Pomeroy fairly reflected the popular taste. While multitudes turned
up the whites of their eyes and denounced him in public, they bought his
paper and read it in private.
I left La Crosse in a steamer, just as the rising sun lighted the
hilltops and gilded the Mississippi. It was a lovely morning, and, in
company with a young girl of sixteen, who had traveled alone from some
remote part of Canada, bound for a northern village in Wisconsin, I
promenaded the deck most of the way to Winona, a pleased listener to the
incidents of my young companion's experiences. She said that, when
crossing Lake Huron, she was the only woman on board, but the men were
so kind and civil that she soon forgot she was alone. I found many
girls, traveling long distances, who had never been five miles from home
before, with a self-reliance that was remarkable. They all spoke in the
most flattering manner of the civility of our American men in looking
after their baggage and advising them as to the best routes.
As you approach St. Paul, at Fort Snelling, where the Mississippi and
Minnesota join forces, the country grows bold and beautiful. The town
itself, then boasting about thirty thousand inhabitants, is finely
situated, with substantial stone residences. It was in one of these
charming homes I found a harbor of rest during my stay in the city. Mrs.
Stuart, whose hospitalities I enjoyed, was a woman of rare common sense
and sound health. Her husband, Dr. Jacob H. Stuart, was one of the very
first surgeons to volunteer in the late war. In the panic at Bull Run,
instead of running, as everybody else did, he stayed with the wounded,
and was taken prisoner while taking a bullet from the head of a rebel.
When exchanged, Beauregard gave him his sword for his devotion to the
dying and wounded.
I had the pleasure of seeing several of the leading gentlemen and ladies
of St. Paul at the Orphans' Fair, where we all adjourned, after my
lecture, to discuss woman's rights, over a bounteous supper. Here I met
William L. Banning, the originator of the Lake Superior and Mississippi
Railroad. He besieged Congress and capitalists for a dozen years to
build this road, but was laughed at and put off with sneers and
contempt, until, at last, Jay Cooke became so weary of his continual
coming that he said: "I will build the road to get rid of you."
Whittier seems to have had a prophetic vision of the peopling of this
region. When speaking of the Yankee, he says:
"He's whittling by St. Mary's Falls,
Upon his loaded wain;
He's measuring o'er the Pictured Rocks,
With eager eyes of gain.
"I hear the mattock in the mine,
The ax-stroke in the dell,
The clamor from the Indian lodge,
The Jesuits' chapel bell!
"I hear the tread of pioneers
Of nations yet to be;
The first low wash of waves, where soon
Shall roll a human sea."
The opening of these new outlets and mines of wealth was wholly due to
the forecast and perseverance of Mr. Banning. The first engine that went
over a part of the road had been christened at St. Paul, with becoming
ceremonies; the officiating priestess being a beautiful maiden. A cask
of water from the Pacific was sent by Mr. Banning's brother from
California, and a small keg was brought from Lake Superior for the
occasion. A glass was placed in the hands of Miss Ella B. Banning,
daughter of the president, who then christened the engine, saying: "With
the waters of the Pacific Ocean in my right hand, and the waters of Lake
Superior in my left, invoking the Genius of Progress to bring together,
with iron band, two great commercial systems of the globe, I dedicate
this engine to the use of the Lake Superior and Mississippi Railroad,
and name it William L. Banning."
From St. Paul to Dubuque, as the boats had ceased running, a circuitous
route and a night of discomfort were inevitable. Leaving the main road
to Chicago at Clinton Junction, I had the pleasure of waiting at a small
country inn until midnight for a freight train. This was indeed dreary,
but, having Mrs. Child's sketches of Mmes. De Staël and Roland at hand,
I read of Napoleon's persecutions of the one and Robespierre's of the
other, until, by comparison, my condition was tolerable, and the little
meagerly furnished room, with its dull fire and dim lamp, seemed a
paradise compared with years of exile from one's native land or the
prison cell and guillotine. How small our ordinary, petty trials seem
in contrast with the mountains of sorrow that have been piled up on the
great souls of the past! Absorbed in communion with them twelve o'clock
soon came, and with it the train.
A burly son of Adam escorted me to the passenger car filled with German
immigrants, with tin cups, babies, bags, and bundles innumerable. The
ventilators were all closed, the stoves hot, and the air was like that
of the Black Hole of Calcutta. So, after depositing my cloak and bag in
an empty seat, I quietly propped both doors open with a stick of wood,
shut up the stoves, and opened all the ventilators with the poker. But
the celestial breeze, so grateful to me, had the most unhappy effect on
the slumbering exiles. Paterfamilias swore outright; the companion of
his earthly pilgrimage said, "We must be going north," and, as the heavy
veil of carbonic acid gas was lifted from infant faces, and the pure
oxygen filled their lungs and roused them to new life, they set up one
simultaneous shout of joy and gratitude, which their parents mistook for
agony. Altogether there was a general stir. As I had quietly slipped
into my seat and laid my head down to sleep, I remained unobserved--the
innocent cause of the general purification and vexation.
We reached Freeport at three o'clock in the morning. As the depot for
Dubuque was nearly half a mile on the other side of the town, I said to
a solitary old man who stood shivering there to receive us, "How can I
get to the other station?" "Walk, madam." "But I do not know the way."
"There is no one to go with you." "How is my trunk going?" said I. "I
have a donkey and cart to take that." "Then," said I, "you, the donkey,
the trunk, and I will go together." So I stepped into the cart, sat down
on the trunk, and the old man laughed heartily as we jogged along
through the mud of that solitary town in the pale morning starlight.
Just as the day was dawning, Dubuque, with its rough hills and bold
scenery, loomed up. Soon, under the roof of Myron Beach, one of the
distinguished lawyers of the West, with a good breakfast and sound nap,
my night's sorrows were forgotten.
I was sorry to find that Mrs. Beach, though a native of New York, and
born on the very spot where the first woman's rights convention was held
in this country, was not sound on the question of woman suffrage. She
seemed to have an idea that voting and housekeeping could not be
compounded; but I suggested that, if the nation could only enjoy a
little of the admirable system with which she and other women
administered their domestic affairs, Uncle Sam's interests would be
better secured. This is just what the nation needs to-day, and women
must wake up to the consideration that they, too, have duties as well as
rights in the State. A splendid audience greeted me in the Opera House,
and I gave "Our Girls," bringing many male sinners to repentance, and
stirring up some lethargic _femmes coverts_ to a state of rebellion
against the existing order of things.
From Dubuque I went to Dixon, a large town, where I met a number of
pleasant people, but I have one cause of complaint against the telegraph
operator, whose negligence to send a dispatch to Mt. Vernon, written and
paid for, came near causing me a solitary night on the prairie,
unsheltered and unknown. Hearing that the express train went out Sunday
afternoon, I decided to go, so as to have all day at Mt. Vernon before
speaking; but on getting my trunk checked, the baggageman said the train
did not stop there. "Well," said I, "check the trunk to the nearest
point at which it does stop," resolving that I would persuade the
conductor to stop one minute, anyway. Accordingly, when the conductor
came round, I presented my case as persuasively and eloquently as
possible, telling him that I had telegraphed friends to meet me, etc.,