CHAPTER XXII.

REFORMS AND REFORMERS IN GREAT BRITAIN.

Reaching London in the fogs and mists of November, 1882, the first

person I met, after a separation of many years, was our revered and

beloved friend William Henry Channing. The tall, graceful form was

somewhat bent; the sweet, thoughtful face somewhat sadder; the crimes

and miseries of the world seemed heavy on his heart. With his refined,

nervous organization, the gloomy moral and physical atmosphere of London

was the last place on earth where that beautiful life should have ended.

I found him in earnest conversation with my daughter and the young

Englishman she was soon to marry, advising them not only as to the

importance of the step they were about to take, but as to the minor

points to be observed in the ceremony. At the appointed time a few

friends gathered in Portland Street Chapel, and as we approached the

altar our friend appeared in surplice and gown, his pale, spiritual face

more tender and beautiful than ever. This was the last marriage service

he ever performed, and it was as pathetic as original. His whole

appearance was so in harmony with the exquisite sentiments he uttered,

that we who listened felt as if, for the time being, we had entered with

him into the Holy of Holies.

Some time after, Miss Anthony and I called on him to return our thanks

for the very complimentary review he had written of "The History of

Woman Suffrage." He thanked us in turn for the many pleasant memories

we had revived in those pages, "but," said he, "they have filled me with

indignation, too, at the repeated insults offered to women so earnestly

engaged in honest endeavors for the uplifting of mankind. I blushed for

my sex more than once in reading these volumes." We lingered long,

talking over the events connected with our great struggle for freedom.

He dwelt with tenderness on our disappointments, and entered more fully

into the humiliations suffered by women, than any man we ever met. His

views were as appreciative of the humiliation of woman, through the

degradation of sex, as those expressed by John Stuart Mill in his

wonderful work on "The Subjection of Women." He was intensely interested

in Frances Power Cobbe's efforts to suppress vivisection, and the last

time I saw him he was presiding at a parlor meeting where Dr. Elizabeth

Blackwell gave an admirable address on the cause and cure of the social

evil. Mr. Channing spoke beautifully in closing, paying a warm and

merited compliment to Dr. Blackwell's clear and concise review of all

the difficulties involved in the question.

Reading so much of English reformers in our journals, of the Brights,

McLarens, the Taylors; of Lydia Becker, Josephine Butler, and Octavia

Hill, and of their great demonstrations with lords and members of

Parliament in the chair,--we had longed to compare the actors in those

scenes with our speakers on this side of the water. At last we met them

one and all in great public meetings and parlor reunions, at dinners and

receptions. We listened to their public men in Parliament, the courts,

and the pulpit; to the women in their various assemblies; and came to

the conclusion that Americans surpass them in oratory and the conduct of

their meetings. A hesitating, apologetic manner seems to be the national

custom for an exordium on all questions. Even their ablest men who have

visited this country, such as Kingsley, Stanley, Arnold, Tyndall, and

Coleridge, have all been criticised by the American public for their

elocutionary defects. They have no speakers to compare with Wendell

Phillips, George William Curtis, or Anna Dickinson, although John Bright

is without peer among his countrymen, as is Mrs. Besant among the women.

The women, as a general rule, are more fluent than the men.

I reached England in time to attend the great demonstration in Glasgow,

to celebrate the extension of the municipal franchise to the women of

Scotland. It was a remarkable occasion. St. Andrew's immense hall was

packed with women; a few men were admitted to the gallery at half a

crown apiece. Over five thousand people were present. When a Scotch

audience is thoroughly roused, nothing can equal the enthusiasm. The

arrival of the speakers on the platform was announced with the wildest

applause; the entire audience rising, waving their handkerchiefs, and

clapping their hands, and every compliment paid the people of Scotland

was received with similar outbursts. Mrs. McLaren, a sister of John

Bright, presided, and made the opening speech. I had the honor, on this

occasion, of addressing an audience for the first time in the Old World.

Many others spoke briefly. There were too many speakers; no one had time

to warm up to the point of eloquence.

Our system of conventions, of two or three days' duration, with long

speeches discussing pointed and radical resolutions, is quite unknown in

England. Their meetings consist of one session of a few hours, into

which they crowd all the speakers they can summon. They have a few tame,

printed resolutions, on which there can be no possible difference of

opinion, with the names of those who are to speak appended. Each of

these is read and a few short speeches are made, that may or may not

have the slightest reference to the resolutions, which are then passed.

The last is usually one of thanks to some lord or member of the House of

Commons, who may have condescended to preside at the meeting or do

something for the measure in Parliament. The Queen is referred to

tenderly in most of the speeches, although she has never done anything

to merit the approbation of the advocates of suffrage for women.

From Glasgow quite a large party of the Brights and McLarens went to

Edinburgh, where the Hon. Duncan McLaren gave us a warm welcome to

Newington House, under the very shadow of the Salisbury crags. These and

the Pentland Hills are remarkable features in the landscape as you

approach this beautiful city with its mountains and castles. We passed a

few charming days driving about, visiting old friends, and discussing

the status of woman on both sides of the Atlantic. Here we met Elizabeth

Pease Nichol and Jane and Eliza Wigham, whom I had not seen since we sat

together in the World's Anti-slavery Convention, in London, in 1840. Yet

I knew Mrs. Nichol at once; her strongly marked face was not readily

forgotten.

I went with the family on Sunday to the Friends' meeting, where a most

unusual manifestation for that decorous sect occurred. I had been told

that, if I felt inclined, it would be considered quite proper for me to

make some remarks, and just as I was revolving an opening sentence to a

few thoughts I desired to present, a man arose in a remote part of the

house and began, in a low voice, to give his testimony as to the truth

that was in him. All eyes were turned toward him, when suddenly a Friend

leaned over the back of the seat, seized his coat tails and jerked him

down in a most emphatic manner. The poor man buried his face in his

hands, and maintained a profound silence. I learned afterward that he

was a bore, and the Friend in the rear thought it wise to nip him in the

bud. This scene put to flight all intentions of speaking on my part lest

I, too, might get outside the prescribed limits and be suppressed by

force. I dined, that day, with Mrs. Nichol, at Huntly Lodge, where she

has entertained in turn many of our American reformers. Her walls have

echoed to the voices of Garrison, Rogers, Samuel J. May, Parker

Pillsbury, Henry C. Wright, Douglass, Remond, and hosts of English

philanthropists. Though over eighty years of age, she was still awake to

all questions of the hour, and generous in her hospitalities as of yore.

Mrs. Margaret Lucas, whose whole soul was in the temperance movement,

escorted me from Edinburgh to Manchester, to be present at another great

demonstration in the Town Hall, the finest building in that district. It

had just been completed, and, with its ante-room, dining hall, and

various apartments for social entertainments, was by far the most

perfect hall I had seen in England. There I was entertained by Mrs.

Matilda Roby, who, with her husband, gave me a most hospitable

reception. She invited several friends to luncheon one day, among

others Miss Lydia Becker, editor of the _Suffrage Journal_ in that city,

and the Rev. Mr. Steinthal, who had visited this country and spoken on

our platform. The chief topic at the table was John Stuart Mill, his

life, character, writings, and his position with reference to the

political rights of women. In the evening we went to see Ristori in

'"Queen Elizabeth." Having seen her, many years before, in America, I

was surprised to find her still so vigorous. And thus, week after week,

suffrage meetings, receptions, dinners, luncheons, and theaters

pleasantly alternated.

The following Sunday we heard in London a grand sermon from Moncure D.

Conway, and had a pleasant interview with him and Mrs. Conway at the

close of the session. Later we spent a few days at their artistic home,

filled with books, pictures, and mementos from loving friends. A

billiard room, with well-worn cues, balls, and table--quite a novel

adjunct to a parsonage--may, in a measure, account for his vigorous

sermons. A garden reception to Mr. and Mrs. Howells gave us an

opportunity to see the American novelist surrounded by his English

friends.

Soon after this Mr. Conway asked me to fill his pulpit. I retired

Saturday night, very nervous over my sermon for the next day, and the

feeling steadily increased until I reached the platform; but once there

my fears were all dissipated, and I never enjoyed speaking more than on

that occasion, for I had been so long oppressed with the degradation of

woman under canon law and church discipline, that I had a sense of

relief in pouring out my indignation. My theme was, "What has

Christianity done for Woman?" and by the facts of history I showed

clearly that to no form of religion was woman indebted for one impulse

of freedom, as all alike have taught her inferiority and subjection. No

lofty virtues can emanate from such a condition. Whatever heights of

dignity and purity women have individually attained can in no way be

attributed to the dogmas of their religion.

With my son Theodore, always deeply interested in my friends and public

work, I called, during my stay in London, on Mrs. Grey, Miss Jessie

Boucherett, and Dr. Hoggan, who had written essays for "The Woman

Question in Europe"; on our American minister (Mr. Lowell), Mr. and Mrs.

George W. Smalley, and many other notable men and women. By appointment

we had an hour with the Hon. John Bright, at his residence on

Piccadilly. As his photograph, with his fame, had reached America, his

fine face and head, as well as his political opinions, were quite

familiar to us. He received us with great cordiality, and manifested a

clear knowledge and deep interest in regard to all American affairs.

Free trade and woman suffrage formed the basis of our conversation; the

literature of our respective countries and our great men and women were

the lighter topics of the occasion. He was not sound in regard to the

political rights of women, but it is not given to any one man to be

equally clear on all questions. He voted for John Stuart Mill's

amendment to the Household Suffrage Bill in 1867, but he said, "that was

a personal favor to a friend, without any strong convictions as to the

merits of what I considered a purely sentimental measure."

We attended the meeting called to rejoice over the passage of the

Married Women's Property Bill, which gave to the women of England, in

1882, what we had enjoyed in many States in this country since 1848.

Mrs. Jacob Bright, Mrs. Scatcherd, Mrs. Elmy, and several members of

Parliament made short speeches of congratulation to those who had been

instrumental in carrying the measure. It was generally conceded that to

the tact and persistence of Mrs. Jacob Bright, more than to any other

person, belonged the credit of that achievement. Jacob Bright was at the

time a member of Parliament, and fully in sympathy with the bill; and,

while Mrs. Bright exerted all her social influence to make it popular

with the members, her husband, thoroughly versed in Parliamentary

tactics, availed himself of every technicality to push the bill through

the House of Commons. Mrs. Bright's chief object in securing this bill,

aside from establishing the right that every human being has to his own

property, was to place married women on an even plane with widows and

spinsters, thereby making them qualified voters.

The next day we went out to Barn Elms to visit Mr. and Mrs. Charles

McLaren. He was a member of Parliament, a Quaker by birth and education,

and had sustained, to his uttermost ability, the suffrage movement. His

charming wife, the daughter of Mrs. Pochin, is worthy of the noble

mother who was among the earliest leaders on that question--speaking and

writing with ability, on all phases of the subject. Barn Elms is a grand

old estate, a few miles out of London. It was the dairy farm of Queen

Elizabeth, and was presented by her to Sir Francis Walsingham. Since

then it has been inhabited by many persons of note. It has existed as an

estate since the time of the early Saxon kings, and the record of the

sale of Barn Elms in the time of King Athelstane is still extant. What

with its well-kept lawns, fine old trees, glimpses here and there of the

Thames winding round its borders, and its wealth of old associations, it

is, indeed, a charming spot. Our memory of those days will not go back

to Saxon kings, but remain with the liberal host and hostess, the

beautiful children, and the many charming acquaintances we met at that

fireside. I doubt whether any of the ancient lords and ladies who

dispensed their hospitalities under that roof did in any way surpass the

present occupants. Mrs. McLaren, interested in all the reforms of the

day, is radical in her ideas, a brilliant talker, and, for one so young,

remarkably well informed on all political questions.

It was at Barn Elms I met, for the first time, Mrs. Fannie Hertz, to

whom I was indebted for many pleasant acquaintances afterward. She is

said to know more distinguished literary people than any other woman in

London. I saw her, too, several times in her home; meeting, at her

Sunday-afternoon receptions, many persons I was desirous to know. On one

occasion I found George Jacob Holyoake there, surrounded by several

young ladies, all stoutly defending the Nihilists in Russia, and their

right to plot their way to freedom. They counted a dynasty of Czars as

nothing in the balance with the liberties of a whole people. As I joined

the circle, Mr. Holyoake called my attention to the fact that he was the

only one in favor of peaceful measures. "Now," said he, "I have often

heard it said on your platform that the feminine element in politics

would bring about perpetual peace in government, and here all these

ladies are advocating: the worst forms of violence in the name of

liberty." "Ah!" said I, "lay on their shoulders the responsibility of

governing, and they would soon become as mild and conservative as you

seem to be." He then gave us his views on co-operation, the only remedy

for many existing evils, which he thought would be the next step toward

a higher civilization.

There, too, I met some Positivists, who, though liberal on religious

questions, were very narrow as to the sphere of woman. The difference in

sex, which is the very reason why men and women should be associated in

all forms of activity, is to them the strongest reason why they should

be separated. Mrs. Hertz belongs to the Harrison school of Positivists.

I went with her to one of Mrs. Orr's receptions, where we met Robert

Browning, a fine-looking man of seventy years, with white hair and

mustache. He was frank, easy, playful, and brilliant in conversation.

Mrs. Orr seemed to be taking a very pessimistic view of our present

sphere of action, which Mr. Browning, with poetic coloring, was trying

to paint more hopefully.

The next day I dined with Margaret Bright Lucas, in company with John P.

Thomasson, member of Parliament, and his wife, and, afterward, we went

to the House of Commons and had the good fortune to hear Gladstone,

Parnell, and Sir Charles Dilke. Seeing Bradlaugh seated outside of the

charmed circle, I sent my card to him, and, in the corridor, we had a

few moments' conversation. I asked him if he thought he would eventually

get his seat. He replied, "Most assuredly I will. I shall open the next

campaign with such an agitation as will rouse our politicians to some

consideration of the changes gradually coming over the face of things

in this country."

The place assigned ladies in the House of Commons is really a disgrace

to a country ruled by a queen. This dark perch is the highest gallery,

immediately over the speaker's desk and government seats, behind a fine

wire netting, so that it is quite impossible to see or hear anything.

The sixteen persons who can crowd into the front row, by standing with

their noses partly through the open network, can have the satisfaction

of seeing the cranial arch of their rulers and hearing an occasional

paean to liberty, or an Irish growl at the lack of it. I was told that

this network was to prevent the members on the floor from being

disturbed by the beauty of the women. On hearing this I remarked that I

was devoutly thankful that our American men were not so easily

disturbed, and that the beauty of our women was not of so dangerous a

type. I could but contrast our spacious galleries in that magnificent

Capitol at Washington, as well as in our grand State Capitols, where

hundreds of women can sit at their ease and see and hear their rulers,

with these dark, dingy buildings. My son, who had a seat on the floor

just opposite the ladies' gallery, said he could compare our appearance

to nothing but birds in a cage. He could not distinguish an outline of

anybody. All he could see was the moving of feathers and furs or some

bright ribbon or flower.

In the libraries, the courts, and the House of Lords, I found many

suggestive subjects of thought. It was interesting to find, on the

frescoed walls, many historical scenes in which women had taken a

prominent part. Among others there was Jane Lane assisting Charles II.

to escape, and Alice Lisle concealing the fugitives after the battle of

Sedgemoor. Six wives of Henry VIII. stood forth, a solemn pageant when

one recalled their sad fate. Alas! whether for good or ill, women must

ever fill a large space in the tragedies of the world.

I passed a few pleasant hours in the house where Macaulay spent his last

years. The once spacious library and the large bow-window, looking out

on a beautiful lawn, where he sat, from day to day, writing his glowing

periods, possessed a peculiar charm for me, as the surroundings of

genius always do. I thought, as I stood there, how often he had

unconsciously gazed on each object in searching for words rich enough to

gild his ideas. The house was owned and occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Stephen

Winckworth. It was at one of their sociable Sunday teas that many

pleasant memories of the great historian were revived.

One of the most remarkable and genial women I met was Miss Frances Power

Cobbe. She called one afternoon, and sipped with me the five o'clock

tea, a uniform practice in England. She was of medium height, stout,

rosy, and vigorous-looking, with a large, well-shaped head, a strong,

happy face, and gifted with rare powers of conversation. I felt very

strongly attracted to her. She was frank and cordial, and pronounced in

all her views. She gave us an account of her efforts to rescue unhappy

cats and dogs from the hands of the vivisectionists. We saw her, too, in

her home, and in her office in Victoria Street. The perfect order in

which her books and papers were arranged, and the exquisite neatness of

the apartments, were refreshing to behold.

My daughter, having decided opinions of her own, was soon at

loggerheads with Miss Cobbe on the question of vivisection. After we had

examined several German and French books, with illustrations showing the

horrible cruelty inflicted on cats and dogs, she enlarged on the

hypocrisy and wickedness of these scientists, and, turning to my

daughter, said: "Would you shake hands with one of these

vivisectionists? Yes," said Harriot, "I should be proud to shake hands

with Virchow, the great German scientist, for his kindness to a young

American girl. She applied to several professors to be admitted to their

classes, but all refused except Virchow; he readily assented, and

requested his students to treat her with becoming courtesy. 'If any of

you behave otherwise,' said he, 'I shall feel myself personally

insulted.' She entered his classes and pursued her studies, unmolested

and with great success. Now, would you, Miss Cobbe, refuse to shake

hands with any of your statesmen, scientists, clergymen, lawyers, or

physicians who treat women with constant indignities and insult?" "Oh,

no!" said Miss Cobbe. "Then," said Harriot, "you estimate the physical

suffering of cats and dogs as of more consequence than the humiliation

of human beings. The man who tortures a cat for a scientific purpose is

not as low in the scale of beings, in my judgment, as one who sacrifices

his own daughter to some cruel custom."

As we were, just then, reading Froude's "Life of Carlyle," we drove by

the house where Carlyle had lived, and paused a moment at the door where

poor Jennie went in and out so often with a heavy heart. The book gives

a painful record of a great soul struggling with poverty and

disappointment; the hope of success, as an author, so long deferred and

never realized. His foolish pride of independence and headship, and his

utter indifference to his domestic duties and the comfort of his wife

made the picture still darker. Poor Jennie! fitted to shine in any

circle, yet doomed, all her married life, to domestic drudgery, instead

of associations with the great man for whose literary companionship she

had sacrificed everything.

At one of Miss Biggs' receptions Miss Anthony and I met Mr. Stansfeld,

M.P., who had labored faithfully for the repeal of the Contagious

Diseases Act, and had in a measure been successful. We had the honor of

an interview with Lord Shaftesbury, at one of his crowded "at homes,"

and found him a little uncertain as to the wisdom of allowing married

women to vote, for fear of disturbing the peace of the family. I have

often wondered if men see, in this objection, what a fatal admission

they make as to their love of domination.

Miss Anthony was present at the great Liberal Conference, at Leeds, on

October 17, 1882, to which Mrs. Helen Bright Clark, Miss Jane Cobden,

Mrs. Tanner, Mrs. Scatcherd, and several other ladies were duly elected

delegates from their respective Liberal Leagues. Mrs. Clark and Miss

Cobden, daughters of the great corn-law reformers, spoke eloquently in

favor of the resolution to extend Parliamentary suffrage to women, which

was presented by Walter McLaren of Bradford. As Mrs. Clark made her

impassioned appeal for the recognition of woman's political equality in

the next bill for extension of suffrage, that immense gathering of

sixteen hundred delegates was hushed into profound silence. For a

daughter to speak thus in that great representative convention, in

opposition to her loved and honored father, the acknowledged leader of

that party, was an act of heroism and fidelity to her own highest

convictions almost without a parallel in English history, and the effect

on the audience was as thrilling as it was surprising. The resolution

was passed by a large majority. At the reception given to John Bright

that evening, as Mrs. Clark approached the dais on which her noble

father stood shaking the hands of passing friends, she remarked to her

husband, "I wonder if father has heard of my speech this morning, and if

he will forgive me for thus publicly differing with him?" The query was

soon answered. As he caught the first glimpse of his daughter he stepped

down, and, pressing her hand affectionately, kissed her on either cheek.

The next evening the great Quaker statesman was heard by the admiring

thousands who could crowd into Victoria Hall, while thousands, equally

desirous to hear, failed to get tickets of admission. It was a

magnificent sight, and altogether a most impressive gathering of the

people. Miss Anthony, with her friends, sat in the gallery opposite the

great platform, where they had a fine view of the whole audience. When

John Bright, escorted by Sir Wilfrid Lawson, took his seat, the immense

crowd rose, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and, with the wildest

enthusiasm, gave cheer after cheer in honor of the great leader. Sir

Wilfrid Lawson, in his introductory remarks, facetiously alluded to the

resolution adopted by the Conference as somewhat in advance of the ideas

of the speaker of the evening. The house broke into roars of laughter,

while the Father of Liberalism, perfectly convulsed, joined in the

general merriment.

But when at length his time to speak had come, and Mr. Bright went over

the many steps of progress that had been taken by the Liberal party, he

cunningly dodged the question of the emancipation of the women of

England. He skipped round the agitation of 1867, and John Stuart Mill's

amendment presented at that time in the House of Commons; the extension

of the municipal suffrage in 1869; the participation of women in the

establishment of national schools under the law of 1870, both as voters

and members of school boards; the Married Women's Property Bill of 1882;

the large and increasing vote for the extension of Parliamentary

suffrage in the House of Commons, and the adoption of the resolution by

that great Conference the day before. All these successive steps toward

woman's emancipation he carefully remembered to forget.

While in London Miss Anthony and I attended several enthusiastic reform

meetings. We heard Bradlaugh address his constituency on that memorable

day at Trafalgar Square, at the opening of Parliament, when violence was

anticipated and the Parliament Houses were surrounded by immense crowds,

with the military and police in large numbers, to maintain order. We

heard Michael Davitt and Miss Helen Taylor at a great meeting in Exeter

Hall; the former on home rule for Ireland, and the latter on the

nationalization of land. The facts and figures given in these two

lectures, as to the abject poverty of the people and the cruel system by

which every inch of land had been grabbed by their oppressors, were

indeed appalling. A few days before sailing we made our last visit to

Ernestine L. Rose, and found our noble coadjutor, though in delicate

health, pleasantly situated in the heart of London, as deeply interested

as ever in the struggles of the hour.

A great discomfort, in all English homes, is the inadequate system of

heating. A moderate fire in the grate is the only mode of heating, and

they seem quite oblivious to the danger of throwing a door open into a

cold hall at one's back, while the servants pass in and out with the

various courses at dinner. As we Americans were sorely tried, under such

circumstances, it was decided, in the home of my son-in-law, Mr. Blatch,

to have a hall-stove, which, after a prolonged search, was found in

London and duly installed as a presiding deity to defy the dampness that

pervades all those ivy-covered habitations, as well as the neuralgia

that wrings their possessors. What a blessing it proved, more than any

one thing making the old English house seem like an American home! The

delightful summer heat we, in America, enjoy in the coldest seasons, is

quite unknown to our Saxon cousins. Although many came to see our stove

in full working order, yet we could not persuade them to adopt the

American system of heating the whole house at an even temperature. They

cling to the customs of their fathers with an obstinacy that is

incomprehensible to us, who are always ready to try experiments.

Americans complain bitterly of the same freezing experiences in France

and Germany, and, in turn, foreigners all criticise our overheated

houses and places of amusement.

While attending a meeting in Birmingham I stayed with a relative of

Joseph Sturge, whose home I had visited forty years before. The meeting

was called to discuss the degradation of women under the Contagious

Diseases Act. Led by Josephine Butler, the women of England were deeply

stirred on the question of its repeal and have since secured it. I heard

Mrs. Butler speak in many of her society meetings as well as on other

occasions. Her style was not unlike that one hears in Methodist camp

meetings from the best cultivated of that sect; her power lies in her

deeply religious enthusiasm. In London we met Emily Faithful, who had

just returned from a lecturing tour in the United States, and were much

amused with her experiences. Having taken prolonged trips over the whole

country, from Maine to Texas, for many successive years, Miss Anthony

and I could easily add the superlative to all her narrations.

It was a pleasant surprise to meet the large number of Americans usually

at the receptions of Mrs. Peter Taylor. Graceful and beautiful, in full

dress, standing beside her husband, who evidently idolized her, Mrs.

Taylor appeared quite as refined in her drawing room as if she had never

been exposed to the public gaze while presiding over a suffrage

convention. Mrs. Taylor is called the mother of the suffrage movement.

The reform has not been carried on in all respects to her taste, nor on

what she considers the basis of high principle. Neither she nor Mrs.

Jacob Bright has ever been satisfied with the bill asking the rights of

suffrage for "widows and spinsters" only. To have asked this right "for

all women duly qualified," as but few married women are qualified

through possessing property in their own right, would have been

substantially the same, without making any invidious distinctions. Mrs.

Taylor and Mrs. Bright felt that, as married women were the greatest

sufferers under the law, they should be the first rather than the last

to be enfranchised. The others, led by Miss Becker, claimed that it was

good policy to make the demand for "spinsters and widows," and thus

exclude the "family unit" and "man's headship" from the discussion; and

yet these were the very points on which the objections were invariably

based. They claimed that, if "spinsters and widows" were enfranchised,

they would be an added power to secure to married women their rights.

But the history of the past gives us no such assurance. It is not

certain that women would be more just than men, and a small privileged

class of aristocrats have long governed their fellow-countrymen. The

fact that the spinsters in the movement advocated such a bill, shows

that they were not to be trusted in extending it. John Stuart Mill, too,

was always opposed to the exclusion of married women in the demand for

suffrage.

My sense of justice was severely tried by all I heard of the

persecutions of Mrs. Besant and Mr. Bradlaugh for their publications on

the right and duty of parents to limit population. Who can contemplate

the sad condition of multitudes of young children in the Old World whose

fate is to be brought up in ignorance and vice--a swarming, seething

mass which nobody owns--without seeing the need of free discussion of

the philosophical principles that underlie these tangled social

problems? The trials of Foote and Ramsey, too, for blasphemy, seemed

unworthy a great nation in the nineteenth century. Think of

well-educated men of good moral standing thrown into prison in solitary

confinement, for speaking lightly of the Hebrew idea of Jehovah and the

New Testament account of the birth of Jesus! Our Protestant clergy never

hesitate to make the dogmas and superstitions of the Catholic Church

seem as absurd as possible, and why should not those who imagine they

have outgrown Protestant superstitions make them equally ridiculous?

Whatever is true can stand investigation and ridicule.

In the last of April, when the wildflowers were in their glory, Mrs.

Mellen and her lovely daughter, Daisy, came down to our home at

Basingstoke to enjoy its beauty. As Mrs. Mellen had known Charles

Kingsley and entertained him at her residence in Colorado, she felt a

desire to see his former home. Accordingly, one bright morning, Mr.

Blatch drove us to Eversley, through Strathfieldsaye, the park of the

Duke of Wellington. This magnificent place was given to him by the

English government after the battle of Waterloo. A lofty statue of the

duke, that can be seen for miles around, stands at one entrance. A drive

of a few miles further brought us to the parish church of Canon

Kingsley, where he preached many years, and where all that is mortal of

him now lies buried. We wandered through the old church, among the

moss-covered tombstones, and into the once happy home, now silent and

deserted--his loved ones being scattered in different quarters of the

globe. Standing near the last resting place of the author of "Hypatia,"

his warning words for women, in a letter to John Stuart Mill, seemed

like a voice from heaven saying, with new inspiration and power, "This

will never be a good world for women until the last remnant of the canon

law is civilized off the face of the earth."

We heard Mr. Fawcett speak to his Hackney constituents at one of his

campaign meetings. In the course of his remarks he mentioned with

evident favor, as one of the coming measures, the disestablishment of

the Church, and was greeted with loud applause. Soon after he spoke of

woman suffrage as another question demanding consideration, but this

was received with laughter and jeers, although the platform was crowded

with advocates of the measure, among whom were the wife of the speaker

and her sister, Dr. Garrett Anderson. The audience were evidently in

favor of releasing themselves from being taxed to support the Church,

forgetting that women were taxed not only to support a Church but also a

State in the management of neither of which they had a voice. Mr.

Fawcett was not an orator, but a simple, straightforward speaker. He

made one gesture, striking his right clenched fist into the palm of his

left hand at the close of all his strongest assertions, and, although

more liberal than his party, he was a great favorite with his

constituents.

One pleasant trip I made in England was to Bristol, to visit the Misses

Priestman and Mrs. Tanner, sisters-in-law of John Bright. I had stayed

at their father's house forty years before, so we felt like old friends.

I found them all liberal women, and we enjoyed a few days together,

talking over our mutual struggles, and admiring the beautiful scenery

for which that part of the country is celebrated. The women of England

were just then organizing political clubs, and I was invited to speak

before many of them. There is an earnestness of purpose among English

women that is very encouraging under the prolonged disappointments

reformers inevitably suffer. And the order of English homes, too, among

the wealthy classes, is very enjoyable. All go on from year to year with

the same servants, the same surroundings, no changes, no moving, no

building even; in delightful contrast with our periodical upheavals,

always uncertain where we shall go next, or how long our main

dependents will stand by us.

From Bristol I went to Greenbank to visit Mrs. Helen Bright Clark. One

evening her parlors were crowded and I was asked to give an account of

the suffrage movement in America. Some clergymen questioned me in regard

to the Bible position of woman, whereupon I gave quite an exposition of

its general principles in favor of liberty and equality. As two distinct

lines of argument can be woven out of those pages on any subject, on

this occasion I selected all the most favorable texts for justice to

woman, and closed by stating the limits of its authority. Mrs. Clark,

though thoroughly in sympathy with the views I had expressed, feared

lest my very liberal utterances might have shocked some of the strictest

of the laymen and clergy. "Well," said I, "if we who do see the

absurdities of the old superstitions never unveil them to others, how is

the world to make any progress in the theologies? I am in the sunset of

life, and I feel it to be my special mission to tell people what they

are not prepared to hear, instead of echoing worn-out opinions." The

result showed the wisdom of my speaking out of my own soul. To the

surprise of Mrs. Clark, the Primitive Methodist clergyman called on

Sunday morning to invite me to occupy his pulpit in the afternoon and

present the same line of thought I had the previous evening. I accepted

his invitation. He led the services, and I took my text from Genesis i.

27, 28, showing that man and woman were a simultaneous creation,

endowed, in the beginning, with equal power.

Returning to London, I accepted an invitation to take tea one afternoon

with Mrs. Jacob Bright, who, in earnest conversation, had helped us

each to a cup of tea, and was turning to help us to something more, when

over went table and all--tea, bread and butter, cake, strawberries and

cream, silver, china, in one conglomerate mass. Silence reigned. No one

started; no one said "Oh!" Mrs. Bright went on with what she was saying

as if nothing unusual had occurred, rang the bell, and, when the servant

appeared, pointing to the débris, she said, "Charles, remove this." I

was filled with admiration at her coolness, and devoutly thankful that

we Americans maintained an equally dignified silence.

At a grand reception, given in our honor by the National Central

Committee, in Princess' Hall, Jacob Bright, M.P., presided and made an

admirable opening speech, followed by his sister, Mrs. McLaren, with a

highly complimentary address of welcome. By particular request Miss

Anthony explained the industrial, legal, and political status of

American women, while I set forth their educational, social, and

religious condition. John P. Thomasson, M.P., made the closing address,

expressing his satisfaction with our addresses and the progress made in

both countries.

Mrs. Thomasson, daughter of Mrs. Lucas, gave several parties,

receptions, and dinners,--some for ladies only,--where an abundant

opportunity was offered for a critical analysis of the idiosyncrasies of

the superior sex, especially in their dealings with women. The patience

of even such heroic souls as Lydia Becker and Caroline Biggs was almost

exhausted with the tergiversations of Members of the House of Commons.

Alas for the many fair promises broken, the hopes deferred, the votes

fully relied on and counted, all missing in the hour of action! One

crack of Mr. Gladstone's whip put a hundred Liberal members to

flight--members whom these noble women had spent years in educating. I

never visited the House of Commons that I did not see Miss Becker and

Miss Biggs trying to elucidate the fundamental principles of just

government to some of the legislators. Verily their divine faith and

patience merited more worthy action on the part of their alleged

representatives!

Miss Henrietta Müller gave a farewell reception to Miss Anthony and me

on the eve of our departure for America, when we had the opportunity of

meeting once more most of the pleasant acquaintances we had made in

London. Although it was announced for the afternoon, we did, in fact,

receive all day, as many could not come at the hour appointed. Dr.

Elizabeth Blackwell took breakfast with us; Mrs. Fawcett, Mrs. Saville,

and Miss Lord were with us at luncheon; Harriet Hosmer and Olive Logan

soon after; Mrs. Peter Taylor later, and from three to six o'clock the

parlors were crowded.

Returning from London I passed my birthday, November 12, 1883, in

Basingstoke. It was a sad day for us all, knowing that it was the last

day with my loved ones before my departure for America. When I imprinted

the farewell kiss on the soft cheek of my little granddaughter Nora in

the cradle, she in the dawn and I in the sunset of life, I realized how

widely the broad ocean would separate us. Miss Anthony, met me at

Alderly Edge, where we spent a few days with Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Bright.

There we found their noble sisters, Mrs. McLaren and Mrs. Lucas, young

Walter McLaren and his lovely bride, Eva Müller, whom we had heard

several times on the suffrage platform. We rallied her on the step she

had lately taken, notwithstanding her sister's able paper on the

blessedness of a single life. While there, we visited Dean Stanley's

birthplace, but on his death the light and joy went out. The old church

whose walls had once echoed to his voice, and the house where he had

spent so many useful years, seemed sad and deserted. But the day was

bright and warm, the scenery beautiful, cows and sheep were still

grazing in the meadows, and the grass was as green as in June. This is

England's chief charm,--it is forever green,--perhaps in compensation

for the many cloudy days.

As our good friends Mrs. McLaren and Mrs. Lucas had determined to see us

safely on board the Servia, they escorted us to Liverpool, where we met

Mrs. Margaret Parker and Mrs. Scatcherd. Another reception was given us

at the residence of Dr. Ewing Whittle. Several short speeches were made,

and all present cheered the parting guests with words of hope and

encouragement for the good cause. Here the wisdom of forming an

international association was first considered. The proposition met with

such favor from those present that a committee was appointed to

correspond with the friends in different nations. Miss Anthony and I

were placed on the committee, and while this project has not yet been

fully carried out, the idea of the intellectual co-operation of women to

secure equal rights and opportunities for their sex was the basis of the

International Council of Women, which was held under the auspices of the

National Woman Suffrage Association in Washington, D. C, in March, 1888.

On the Atlantic for ten days we had many opportunities to review all we

had seen and heard. Sitting on deck, hour after hour, how often I

queried with myself as to the significance of the boon for which we were

so earnestly struggling. In asking for a voice in the government under

which we live, have we been pursuing a shadow for fifty years? In

seeking political power, are we abdicating that social throne where they

tell us our influence is unbounded? No, no! the right of suffrage is no

shadow, but a substantial entity that the citizen can seize and hold for

his own protection and his country's welfare. A direct power over one's

own person and property, an individual opinion to be counted, on all

questions of public interest, are better than indirect influence, be

that ever so far reaching.

Though influence, like the pure white light, is all-pervading, yet it is

ofttimes obscured with passing clouds and nights of darkness. Like the

sun's rays, it may be healthy, genial, inspiring, though sometimes too

direct for comfort, too oblique for warmth, too scattered for any

purpose. But as the prism divides the rays, revealing the brilliant

colors of the light, so does individual sovereignty reveal the beauty of

representative government, and as the burning-glass shows the power of

concentrating the rays, so does the combined power of the multitude

reveal the beauty of united effort to carry a grand measure.