During August, 1891, I was busy getting ready for my voyage, as I was to sail on the _Ems_ on August 23. Although I had crossed the ocean six times in the prior ten years I dreaded the voyage more than words can describe. The last days were filled with sadness, in parting with those so dear to me in foreign countries--especially those curly-headed little girls, so bright, so pretty, so winning in all their ways. Hattie and Theodore went with me from Southampton in the little tug to the great ship _Ems_. It was very hard for us to say the last farewell, but we all tried to be as brave as possible.

We had a rough voyage, but I was not seasick one moment. I was up and dressed early in the morning, and on deck whenever the weather permitted. I made many pleasant acquaintances with whom I played chess and whist; wrote letters to all my foreign friends, ready to mail on landing; read the "Egotist," by George Meredith, and Ibsen's plays as translated by my friend Frances Lord. I had my own private stewardess, a nice German woman who could speak English. She gave me most of my meals on deck or in the ladies' saloon, and at night she would open the porthole two or three times and air our stateroom; that made the nights endurable. The last evening before landing we got up an entertainment with songs, recitations, readings, and speeches. I was invited to preside and introduce the various performers. We reached Sandy Hook the evening of the 29th day of August and lay there all night, and the next morning we sailed up our beautiful harbor, brilliant with the rays of the rising sun.

Being fortunate in having children in both hemispheres, here, too, I found a son and daughter waiting to welcome me to my native land. Our chief business for many weeks was searching for an inviting apartment where my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, my youngest son, Bob, and I could set up our family altar and sing our new psalm of life together.

After much weary searching we found an apartment. Having always lived in a large house in the country, the quarters seemed rather contracted at first, but I soon realized the immense saving in labor and expense in having no more room than is absolutely necessary, and all on one floor.

To be transported from the street to your apartment in an elevator in half a minute, to have all your food and fuel sent to your kitchen by an elevator in the rear, to have your rooms all warmed with no effort of your own, seemed like a realization of some fairy dream. With an extensive outlook of the heavens above, of the Park and the Boulevard beneath, I had a feeling of freedom, and with a short flight of stairs to the roof (an easy escape in case of fire), of safety, too.

No sooner was I fully established in my eyrie, than I was summoned to Rochester, by my friend Miss Anthony, to fill an appointment she had made for me with Miss Adelaide Johnson, the artist from Washington, who was to idealize Miss Anthony and myself in marble for the World's Fair.

I found my friend demurely seated in her mother's rocking-chair hemming table linen and towels for her new home, anon bargaining with butchers, bakers, and grocers, making cakes and puddings, talking with enthusiasm of palatable dishes and the beauties of various articles of furniture that different friends had presented her. All there was to remind one of the "Napoleon of the Suffrage Movement" was a large escritoire covered with doc.u.ments in the usual state of confusion--Miss Anthony never could keep her papers in order. In search of any particular doc.u.ment she roots out every drawer and pigeon hole, although her mother's little spinning wheel stands right beside her desk, a constant reminder of all the domestic virtues of the good housewife, with whom "order" is of the utmost importance and "heaven's first law." The house was exquisitely clean and orderly, the food appetizing, the conversation pleasant and profitable, and the atmosphere genial.

A room in an adjoining house was a.s.signed to Miss Johnson and myself, where a strong pedestal and huge ma.s.s of clay greeted us. And there, for nearly a month, I watched the transformation of that clay into human proportions and expressions, until it gradually emerged with the familiar facial outlines ever so dear to one's self. Sitting there four or five hours every day I used to get very sleepy, so my artist arranged for a series of little naps. When she saw the crisis coming she would say: "I will work now for a time on the ear, the nose, or the hair, as you must be wide awake when I am trying to catch the expression." I rewarded her for her patience and indulgence by summoning up, when awake, the most intelligent and radiant expression that I could command. As Miss Johnson is a charming, cultured woman, with liberal ideas and brilliant in conversation, she readily drew out all that was best in me.

Before I left Rochester, Miss Anthony and her sister Mary gave a reception to me at their house. As some of the professors and trustees of the Rochester University were there, the question of co-education was freely discussed, and the authorities urged to open the doors of the University to the daughters of the people. It was rather aggravating to contemplate those fine buildings and grounds, while every girl in that city must go abroad for higher education. The wife of President Hill of the University had just presented him with twins, a girl and a boy, and he facetiously remarked, "that if the Creator could risk placing s.e.xes in such near relations, he thought they might with safety walk on the same campus and pursue the same curriculum together."

Miss Anthony and I went to Geneva the next day to visit Mrs. Miller and to meet, by appointment, Mrs. Eliza Osborne, the niece of Lucretia Mott, and eldest daughter of Martha C. Wright. We antic.i.p.ated a merry meeting, but Miss Anthony and I were so tired that we no doubt appeared stupid.

In a letter to Mrs. Miller afterward, Mrs. Osborne inquired why I was "so solemn." As I pride myself on being impervious to fatigue or disease, I could not own up to any disability, so I turned the tables on her in the following letter:

"New York, 26 West 61st Street,

November 12, 1891.

"Dear Eliza:

"In a recent letter to Mrs. Miller, speaking of the time when we last met, you say, 'Why was Mrs. Stanton so solemn?' to which I reply: Ever since an old German emperor issued an edict, ordering all the women under that flag to knit when walking on the highway, when selling apples in the market place, when sitting in the parks, because 'to keep women out of mischief their hands must be busy,'

ever since I read that, I have felt 'solemn' whenever I have seen any daughters of our grand Republic knitting, tatting, embroidering, or occupied with any of the ten thousand digital absurdities that fill so large a place in the lives of Eve's daughters.

"Looking forward to the scintillations of wit, the philosophical researches, the historical traditions, the scientific discoveries, the astronomical explorations, the mysteries of theosophy, palmistry, mental science, the revelations of the unknown world where angels and devils do congregate, looking forward to discussions of all these grand themes, in meeting the eldest daughter of David and Martha Wright, the niece of Lucretia Mott, the sister-in-law of William Lloyd Garrison, a queenly-looking woman five feet eight in height, and well proportioned, with glorious black eyes, rivaling even De Stael's in power and pathos, one can readily imagine the disappointment I experienced when such a woman pulled a cotton wash rag from her pocket and forthwith began to knit with bowed head. Fixing her eyes and concentrating her thoughts on a rag one foot square; it was impossible for conversation to rise above the wash-rag level! It was enough to make the most aged optimist 'solemn' to see such a wreck of glorious womanhood.

"And, still worse, she not only knit steadily, hour after hour, but she bestowed the sweetest words of encouragement on a young girl from the Pacific Coast, who was embroidering rosebuds on another rag, the very girl I had endeavored to rescue from the maelstrom of embroidery, by showing her the unspeakable folly of giving her optic nerves to such base uses, when they were designed by the Creator to explore the planetary world, with chart and compa.s.s to guide mighty ships across the sea, to lead the sons of Adam with divinest love from earth to heaven. Think of the great beseeching optic nerves and muscles by which we express our admiration of all that is good and glorious in earth and heaven, being concentrated on a cotton wash rag! Who can wonder that I was 'solemn' that day!

I made my agonized protest on the spot, but it fell unheeded, and with satisfied sneer Eliza knit on, and the young Californian continued making the rosebuds. I gazed into s.p.a.ce, and, when alone, wept for my degenerate countrywoman. I not only was 'solemn' that day, but I am profoundly 'solemn' whenever I think of that queenly woman and that cotton wash rag. (One can buy a whole dozen of these useful appliances, with red borders and fringed, for twenty-five cents.) Oh, Eliza, I beseech you, knit no more!

"Affectionately yours,

"Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

To this Mrs. Osborne sent the following reply:

"Dear Mrs. Stanton:

"In your skit Against your sisterhood who knit, Or useful make their fingers, I wonder if--deny it not-- The habit of Lucretia Mott Within your memory lingers!

"In retrospective vision bright, Can you recall dear Martha Wright Without her work or knitting?

The needles flying in her hands, On washing rags or baby's bands, Or other work as fitting?

"I cannot think they thought the less, Or ceased the company to bless With conversation's riches, Because they thus improved their time, And never deemed it was a crime To fill the hours with st.i.tches.

"They even used to preach and plan To spread the fashion, so that man Might have this satisfaction; Instead of idling as men do, With nervous meddling fingers too, Why not mate talk with action?

"But as a daughter and a niece, I pride myself on every piece Of handiwork created; While reveling in social chat, Or listening to gossip flat, My gain is unabated.

"That German emperor you scorn, Seems to my mind a monarch born, Worthy to lead a column; I'll warrant he could talk and work, And, neither being used to shirk, Was rarely very solemn.

"I could say more upon this head, But must, before I go to bed.

Your idle precepts mocking, Get out my needle and my yarn And, caring not a single darn.

Just finish up this stocking."

CHAPTER XXVII.

SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CLa.s.s OF 1832--THE WOMAN'S BIBLE.

I returned from Geneva to New York city in time to celebrate my seventy-sixth birthday with my children. I had traveled about constantly for the last twenty years in France, England, and my own country, and had so many friends and correspondents, and pressing invitations to speak in clubs and conventions, that now I decided to turn over a new leaf and rest in an easy-chair. But so complete a change in one's life could not be easily accomplished. In spite of my resolution to abide in seclusion, my daughter and I were induced to join the Botta Club, which was to meet once a month, alternately, at the residences of Mrs. Moncure D. Conway and Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson. Though composed of ladies and gentlemen it proved dull and unprofitable. As the subject for discussion was not announced until each meeting, no one was prepared with any well-digested train of thought. It was also decided to avoid all questions about which there might be grave differences of opinion. This negative position reminded me of a book on etiquette which I read in my young days, in which gentlemen were warned, "In the presence of ladies discuss neither politics, religion, nor social duties, but confine yourself to art, poetry, and abstract questions which women cannot understand. The less they know of a subject the more respectfully they will listen." This club was named in honor of Mrs. Botta, formerly Miss Anne Lynch, whose drawing room for many years was the social center of the literati of New York.

On January 16, 1892, we held the Annual Suffrage Convention in Washington, and, as usual, had a hearing before the Congressional Committee. My speech on the "Solitude of Self" was well received and was published in the Congressional Record. The _Woman's Tribune_ struck off many hundreds of copies and it was extensively circulated.

Notwithstanding my determination to rest, I spoke to many clubs, wrote articles for papers and magazines, and two important leaflets, one on "Street Cleaning," another on "Opening the Chicago Exposition on Sunday." As Sunday was the only day the ma.s.ses could visit that magnificent scene, with its great lake, extensive park, artificial ca.n.a.ls, and beautiful buildings, I strongly advocated its being open on that day. One hundred thousand religious bigots pet.i.tioned Congress to make no appropriation for this magnificent Exposition, unless the managers pledged themselves to close the gates on Sunday, and hide this vision of beauty from the common people. Fortunately, this time a sense of justice outweighed religious bigotry. I sent my leaflets to every member of Congress and of the State legislatures, and to the managers of the Exposition, and made it a topic of conversation at every opportunity. The park and parts of the Exposition were kept open on Sunday, but some of the machinery was stopped as a concession to narrow Christian sects.

In June, 1892, at the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Russell Sage, I attended the dedication of the Gurley Memorial Building, presented to the Emma Willard Seminary, at Troy, New York, and made the following address:

"MRS. PRESIDENT, MEMBERS OF THE ALUMNAE:

"It is just sixty years since the cla.s.s of '32, to which I belonged, celebrated a commencement in this same room. This was the great event of the season to many families throughout this State.

Parents came from all quarters; the _elite_ of Troy and Albany a.s.sembled here. Princ.i.p.als from other schools, distinguished legislators, and clergymen all came to hear girls scan Latin verse, solve problems in Euclid, and read their own compositions in a promiscuous a.s.semblage. A long line of teachers anxiously waited the calling of their cla.s.ses, and over all, our queenly Madame Willard presided with royal grace and dignity. Two hundred girls in gala attire, white dresses, bright sashes, and coral ornaments, with their curly hair, rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes, flitted to and fro, some rejoicing that they had pa.s.sed through their ordeal, some still on the tiptoe of expectation, some laughing, some in tears--altogether a most beautiful and interesting picture.

"Conservatives then, as now, thought the result of the higher education of girls would be to destroy their delicacy and refinement. But as the graduates of the Troy Seminary were never distinguished in after life for the lack of these feminine virtues, the most timid, even, gradually accepted the situation and trusted their daughters with Mrs. Willard. But that n.o.ble woman endured for a long period the same ridicule and persecution that women now do who take an onward step in the march of progress.

"I see around me none of the familiar faces that greeted my coming or said farewell in parting. I do not know that one of my cla.s.smates still lives. Friendship with those I knew and loved best lasted but a few years, then our ways in life parted. I should not know where to find one now, and if I did, probably our ideas would differ on every subject, as I have wandered in lat.i.tudes beyond the prescribed sphere of women. I suppose it is much the same with many of you--the familiar faces are all gone, gone to the land of shadows, and I hope of sunshine too, where we in turn will soon follow. "And yet, though we who are left are strangers to one another, we have the same memories of the past, of the same type of mischievous girls and staid teachers, though with different names.

The same long, bare halls and stairs, the recitation rooms with the same old blackboards and lumps of chalk taken for generation after generation, I suppose, from the same pit; the dining room, with its pillars inconveniently near some of the tables, with its thick, white crockery and black-handled knives, and viands that never suited us, because, forsooth, we had boxes of delicacies from home, or we had been out to the baker's or confectioner's and bought pies and cocoanut cakes, candy and chewing gum, all forbidden, but that added to the relish. There, too, were the music rooms, with their old, second-hand pianos, some with rattling keys and tinny sound, on which we were supposed to play our scales and exercises for an hour, though we often slyly indulged in the 'Russian March,'

'Napoleon Crossing the Rhine,' or our national airs, when, as slyly, Mr. Powell, our music teacher, a b.u.mptious Englishman, would softly open the door and say in a stern voice, 'Please practice the lesson I just gave you!'

"Our chief delight was to break the rules, but we did not like to be caught at it. As we were forbidden to talk with our neighbors in study hours, I frequently climbed on top of my bureau to talk through a pipe hole with a daughter of Judge Howell of Canandaigua.

We often met afterward, laughed and talked over the old days, and kept our friendship bright until the day of her death. Once while rooming with Harriet Hudson, a sister of Mrs. John Willard, I was moved to a very erratic performance. Miss Theresa Lee had rung the bell for retiring, and had taken her rounds, as usual, to see that the lights were out and all was still, when I peeped out of my door, and seeing the bell at the head of the stairs nearby, I gave it one kick and away it went rolling and ringing to the bottom. The halls were instantly filled with teachers and scholars, all in white robes, asking what was the matter. Harriet and I ran around questioning the rest, and what a frolic we had, helter-skelter, up and down stairs, in each other's rooms, pulling the beds to pieces, changing girls' clothes from one room to another, etc., etc. The hall lamps, dimly burning, gave us just light enough for all manner of depredations without our being recognized, hence the unbounded lat.i.tude we all felt for mischief. In our whole seminary course--and I was there nearly three years--we never had such a frolic as that night. It took all the teachers to restore order and quiet us down again for the night. No suspicion of any irregularities were ever attached to Harriet and myself. Our standing for scholarship was good, hence we were supposed to reflect all the moralities.

"Though strangers, we have a bond of union in all these memories, of our bright companions, our good teachers, who took us through the pitfalls of logic, rhetoric, philosophy, and the sciences, and of the n.o.ble woman who founded the inst.i.tution, and whose unselfish devotion in the cause of education we are here to celebrate. The name of Emma Willard is dear to all of us; to know her was to love and venerate her. She was not only good and gifted, but she was a beautiful woman. She had a finely developed figure, well-shaped head, cla.s.sic features, most genial manners, and a profound self-respect (a rare quality in woman), that gave her a dignity truly royal in every position. Traveling in the Old World she was noticed everywhere as a distinguished personage. And all these gifts she dedicated to the earnest purpose of her life, the higher education of women.

"In opening this seminary she could not find young women capable of teaching the higher branches, hence her first necessity was to train herself. Amos B. Eaton, who was the princ.i.p.al of the Rensselaer Polytechnic School for boys here in Troy, told me Mrs.

Willard studied with him every branch he was capable of teaching, and trained a corps of teachers and regular scholars at the same time. She took lessons of the Professor every evening when he had leisure, and studied half the night the branches she was to teach the next day, thus keeping ahead of her cla.s.ses. Her intense earnestness and mental grasp, the readiness with which she turned from one subject to another, and her retentive memory of every rule and fact he gave her, was a constant surprise to the Professor.

"All her vacation she devoted to training teachers. She was the first to suggest the normal-school system. Remembering her deep interest in the education of women, we can honor her in no more worthy manner than to carry on her special lifework. As we look around at all the educated women a.s.sembled here to-day and try to estimate what each has done in her own sphere of action, the schools founded, the teachers sent forth, the inspiration given to girls in general, through the long chain of influences started by our alma mater, we can form some light estimate of the momentous and far-reaching consequences of Emma Willard's life. We have not her difficulties to overcome, her trials to endure, but the imperative duty is laid on each of us to finish the work she so successfully began. Schools and colleges of a high order are now everywhere open to women, public sentiment welcomes them to whatever career they may desire, and our work is to help worthy girls struggling for a higher education, by founding scholarships in desirable inst.i.tutions in every State in the Union. The most fitting tribute we can pay to Emma Willard is to aid in the production of a generation of thoroughly educated women.

"There are two kinds of scholarships, equally desirable; a permanent one, where the interest of a fund from year to year will support a succession of students, and a temporary one, to help some worthy individual as she may require. Someone has suggested that this a.s.sociation should help young girls in their primary education. But as our public schools possess all the advantages for a thorough education in the rudiments of learning and are free to all, our scholarships should be bestowed on those whose ability and earnestness in the primary department have been proved, and whose capacity for a higher education is fully shown.

"This is the best work women of wealth can do, and I hope in the future they will endow scholarships for their own s.e.x instead of giving millions of dollars to inst.i.tutions for boys, as they have done in the past. After all the bequests women have made to Harvard see how n.i.g.g.ardly that inst.i.tution, in its 'annex,' treats their daughters. I once asked a wealthy lady to give a few thousands of dollars to start a medical college and hospital for women in New York. She said before making bequests she always consulted her minister and her Bible. He told her there was nothing said in the Bible about colleges for women. I said, 'Tell him he is mistaken.

If he will turn to 2 'Chron. x.x.xiv. 22, he will find that when Josiah, the king, sent the wise men to consult Huldah, the prophetess, about the book of laws discovered in the temple, they found Huldah in the college in Jerusalem, thoroughly well informed on questions of state, while Shallum, her husband, was keeper of the robes. I suppose his business was to sew on the royal b.u.t.tons.'

But in spite of this Scriptural authority, the rich lady gave thirty thousand dollars to Princeton and never one cent for the education of her own s.e.x.