CHAPTER XXVII.
SIXTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CLASS 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 masses could visit that
magnificent scene, with its great lake, extensive park, artificial
canals, and beautiful buildings, I strongly advocated its being open on
that day. One hundred thousand religious bigots petitioned 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 class 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 _élite_ of Troy and Albany
assembled here. Principals 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 assemblage. A long line of teachers anxiously waited
the calling of their classes, 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 passed 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 noble 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
classmates 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 latitudes 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 bumptious 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
latitude 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 noble woman who founded the institution, 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, classic 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 principal 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 classes. 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 assembled 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 institutions 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 association 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 sex instead of
giving millions of dollars to institutions for boys, as they have
done in the past. After all the bequests women have made to Harvard
see how niggardly that institution, 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. xxxiv. 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 buttons.'
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 sex.
"Of all the voices to which these walls have echoed for over half a
century, how few remain to tell the story of the early days, and
when we part, how few of us will ever meet again; but I know we
shall carry with us some new inspiration for the work that still
remains for us to do. Though many of us are old in years, we may
still be young in heart. Women trained to concentrate all their
thoughts on family life are apt to think--when their children are
grown up, their loved ones gone, their servants trained to keep the
domestic machinery in motion--that their work in life is done, that
no one needs now their thought and care, quite forgetting that the
hey-day of woman's life is on the shady side of fifty, when the
vital forces heretofore expended in other ways are garnered in the
brain, when their thoughts and sentiments flow out in broader
channels, when philanthropy takes the place of family selfishness,
and when from the depths of poverty and suffering the wail of
humanity grows as pathetic to their ears as once was the cry of
their own children.
"Or, perhaps, the pressing cares of family life ended, the woman
may awake to some slumbering genius in herself for art, science, or
literature, with which to gild the sunset of her life. Longfellow's
beautiful poem, 'Morituri Salutamus,' written for a similar
occasion to this, is full of hope and promise for all of us. He
says:
"'Something remains for us to do or dare;
Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear.
Cato learned Greek at eighty; Sophocles
Wrote his grand Oedipus, and Simonides
Bore off the prize of verse from his compeers,
When each had numbered more than four-score years.
And Theophrastus, at three-score and ten,
Had but begun his Characters of Men;
Chaucer, at Woodstock with the nightingales,
At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales;
Goethe at Weimar, toiling to the last,
Completed Faust when eighty years were past.
These are indeed exceptions; but they show
How far the gulf-stream of our youth may flow
Into the Arctic regions of our lives,
Where little else than life itself survives.
For age is opportunity no less
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.'"
On December 21, 1892, we celebrated, for the first time, "Foremothers'
Day." Men had celebrated "Forefathers' Day" for many years, but as women
were never invited to join in their festivities, Mrs. Devereux Blake
introduced the custom of women having a dinner in celebration of that
day. Mrs. Isabella Beecher Hooker spent two days with me, and together
we attended the feast and made speeches. This custom is now annually
observed, and gentlemen sit in the gallery just as ladies had done on
similar occasions.
My son Theodore arrived from France in April, 1893, to attend the
Chicago Exposition, and spent most of the summer with me at Glen Cove,
Long Island, where my son Gerrit and his wife were domiciled. Here we
read Captain Charles King's stories of life at military posts, Sanborn's
"Biography of Bronson Alcott," and Lecky's "History of Rationalism."
Here I visited Charles A. Dana, the Nestor of journalism, and his
charming family. He lived on a beautiful island near Glen Cove. His
refined, artistic taste, shown in his city residence in paintings,
statuary, and rare bric-a-brac, collected in his frequent travels in the
Old World, displayed itself in his island home in the arrangement of an
endless variety of trees, shrubs, and flowers, through which you caught
glimpses of the Sound and distant shores. One seldom meets so gifted a
man as the late editor of the _Sun_. He was a scholar, speaking several
languages; an able writer and orator, and a most genial companion in the
social circle. His wife and daughter are cultivated women. The name of
this daughter, Zoe Dana Underhill, often appears in our popular
magazines as the author of short stories, remarkable for their vivid
descriptions.
I met Mr. Dana for the first time at the Brook Farm Community in 1843,
in that brilliant circle of Boston transcendentalists, who hoped in a
few years to transform our selfish, competitive civilization into a
Paradise where all the altruistic virtues might make co-operation
possible. But alas! the material at hand was not sufficiently plastic
for that higher ideal. In due time the community dissolved and the
members returned to their ancestral spheres. Margaret Fuller, who was a
frequent visitor there, betook herself to matrimony in sunny Italy,
William Henry Channing to the Church, Bronson Alcott to the education of
the young, Frank Cabot to the world of work, Mr. and Mrs. Ripley to
literature, and Charles A. Dana to the press. Mr. Dana was very
fortunate in his family relations. His wife, Miss Eunice MacDaniel, and
her relatives sympathized with him in all his most liberal opinions.
During the summer at Glen Cove I had the pleasure of several long
conversations with Miss Frances L. MacDaniel and her brother Osborne,
whose wife is the sister of Mr. Dana, and who is now assisting Miss
Prestona Mann in trying an experiment, similar to the one at Brook Farm,
in the Adirondacks.
Miss Anthony spent a week with us in Glen Cove. She came to stir me up
to write papers for every Congress at the Exposition, which I did, and
she read them in the different Congresses, adding her own strong words
at the close. Mrs. Russell Sage also came and spent a day with us to
urge me to write a paper to be read at Chicago at the Emma Willard
Reunion, which I did. A few days afterward Theodore and I returned her
visit. We enjoyed a few hours' conversation with Mr Sage, who had made
a very generous gift of a building to the Emma Willard Seminary at
Troy. This school was one of the first established (1820) for girls in
our State, and received an appropriation from the New York legislature
on the recommendation of the Governor, De Witt Clinton. Mr. Sage gave us
a description that night of the time his office was blown up with
dynamite thrown by a crank, and of his narrow escape. We found the great
financier and his wife in an unpretending cottage with a fine outlook on
the sea. Though possessed of great wealth they set a good example of
simplicity and economy, which many extravagant people would do well to
follow.
Having visited the World's Exposition at Chicago and attended a course
of lectures at Chautauqua, my daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, returned
to the city, and as soon as our apartment was in order I joined her. She
had recently been appointed Director of Physical Training at the
Teachers' College in New York city. I attended several of her
exhibitions and lectures, which were very interesting. She is doing her
best to develop, with proper exercises and sanitary dress, a new type of
womanhood.
My time passed pleasantly these days with a drive in the Park and an
hour in the land of Nod, also in reading Henry George's "Progress and
Poverty," William Morris on industrial questions, Stevenson's novels,
the "Heavenly Twins," and "Marcella," and at twilight, when I could not
see to read and write, in playing and singing the old tunes and songs I
loved in my youth. In the evening we played draughts and chess. I am
fond of all games, also of music and novels, hence the days fly swiftly
by; I am never lonely, life is ever very sweet to me and full of
interest.
The winter of 1893-94 was full of excitement, as the citizens of New
York were to hold a Constitutional Convention. Dr. Mary Putnam Jacobi
endeavored to rouse a new class of men and women to action in favor of
an amendment granting to women the right to vote. Appeals were sent
throughout the State, gatherings were held in parlors, and enthusiastic
meetings in Cooper Institute and at the Savoy Hotel. My daughter, Mrs.
Stanton Blatch, who was visiting this country, took an active part in
the canvass, and made an eloquent speech in Cooper Institute. Strange to
say, some of the leading ladies formed a strong party against the
proposed amendment and their own enfranchisement. They were called the
"Antis." This opposing organization adopted the same plan for the
campaign as those in favor of the amendment. They issued appeals,
circulated petitions, and had hearings before the Convention.
Mrs. Russell Sage, Mrs. Henry M. Sanders, Mrs. Edward Lauterbach, Mrs.
Runkle, and some liberal clergymen did their uttermost to secure the
insertion of the amendment in the proposed new constitution, but the
Committee on Suffrage of the Constitutional Convention refused even to
submit the proposed amendment to a vote of the people, though half a
million of our most intelligent and respectable citizens had signed the
petition requesting them to do so. Joseph H. Choate and Elihu Root did
their uttermost to defeat the amendment, and succeeded.
I spent the summer of 1894 with my son Gerrit, in his home at Thomaston,
Long Island. Balzac's novels, and the "Life of Thomas Paine" by Moncure
D. Conway, with the monthly magazines and daily papers, were my mental
pabulum. My daughter, Mrs. Stanton Lawrence, returned from England in
September, 1894, having had a pleasant visit with her sister in
Basingstoke. In December Miss Anthony came, and we wrote the woman
suffrage article for the new edition of Johnson's Cyclopedia.
On March 3, 1895, Lady Somerset and Miss Frances Willard, on the eve of
their departure for England, called to see me. We discussed my project
of a "Woman's Bible." They consented to join a revising committee, but
before the committee was organized they withdrew their names, fearing
the work would be too radical. I especially desired to have the opinions
of women from all sects, but those belonging to the orthodox churches
declined to join the committee or express their views. Perhaps they
feared their faith might be disturbed by the strong light of
investigation. Some half dozen members of the Revising Committee began
with me to write "Comments on the Pentateuch."
The chief thought revolving in my mind during the years of 1894 and 1895
had been "The Woman's Bible." In talking with friends I began to feel
that I might realize my long-cherished plan. Accordingly, I began to
read the commentators on the Bible and was surprised to see how little
they had to say about the greatest factor in civilization, the mother of
the race, and that little by no means complimentary. The more I read,
the more keenly I felt the importance of convincing women that the
Hebrew mythology had no special claim to a higher origin than that of
the Greeks, being far less attractive in style and less refined in
sentiment. Its objectionable features would long ago have been apparent
had they not been glossed over with a faith in their divine inspiration.
For several months I devoted all my time to Biblical criticism and
ecclesiastical history, and found no explanation for the degraded status
of women under all religions, and in all the so-called "Holy Books."
When Part I. of "The Woman's Bible" was finally published in November,
1895, it created a great sensation. Some of the New York city papers
gave a page to its review, with pictures of the commentators, of its
critics, and even of the book itself. The clergy denounced it as the
work of Satan, though it really was the work of Ellen Battelle Dietrick,
Lillie Devereux Blake, Rev. Phebe A. Hanaford, Clara Bewick Colby,
Ursula N. Gestefeld, Louisa Southworth, Frances Ellen Burr, and myself.
Extracts from it, and criticisms of the commentators, were printed in
the newspapers throughout America, Great Britain, and Europe. A third
edition was found necessary, and finally an edition was published in
England. The Revising Committee was enlarged, and it now consists of
over thirty of the leading women of America and Europe.[A]
The month of August, 1895, we spent in Peterboro, on the grand hills of
Madison County, nine hundred feet above the valley. Gerrit Smith's fine
old mansion still stands, surrounded with magnificent trees, where I had
played in childhood, chasing squirrels over lawn and gardens and wading
in a modest stream that still creeps slowly round the grounds. I
recalled as I sat on the piazza how one time, when Frederick Douglass
came to spend a few days at Peterboro, some Southern visitors wrote a
note to Mr. Smith asking if Mr. Douglass was to sit in the parlor and at
the dining table; if so, during his visit they would remain in their
own apartments. Mr. Smith replied that his visitors were always treated
by his family as equals, and such would be the case with Mr. Douglass,
who was considered one of the ablest men reared under "The Southern
Institution." So these ladies had their meals in their own apartments,
where they stayed most of the time, and, as Mr. Douglass prolonged his
visit, they no doubt wished in their hearts that they had never taken
that silly position. The rest of us walked about with him, arm in arm,
played games, and sang songs together, he playing the accompaniment on
the guitar. I suppose if our prejudiced countrywomen had been introduced
to Dumas in a French salon, they would at once have donned their bonnets
and ran away.
Sitting alone under the trees I recalled the different generations that
had passed away, all known to me. Here I had met the grandfather, Peter
Sken Smith, partner of John Jacob Astor. In their bargains with the
Indians they acquired immense tracts of land in the Northern part of the
State of New York, which were the nucleus of their large fortunes. I
have often heard Cousin Gerrit complain of the time he lost managing the
estate. His son Greene was an enthusiast in the natural sciences and
took but little interest in property matters. Later, his grandson,
Gerrit Smith Miller, assumed the burden of managing the estate and, in
addition, devoted himself to agriculture. He imported a fine breed of
Holstein cattle, which have taken the first prize at several fairs. His
son, bearing the same name, is devoted to the natural sciences, like his
uncle Greene; whose fine collection of birds was presented by his widow
to Harvard College.
The only daughter of Gerrit Smith, Elizabeth Smith Miller, is a
remarkable woman, possessing many of the traits of her noble father. She
has rare executive ability, as shown in the dispatch of her extensive
correspondence and in the perfect order of her house and grounds. She
has done much in the way of education, especially for the colored race,
in helping to establish schools and in distributing literature. She
subscribes for many of the best books, periodicals, and papers for
friends not able to purchase for themselves. We cannot estimate the good
she has done in this way. Every mail brings her letters from all
classes, from charitable institutions, prisons, Southern plantations,
army posts, and the far-off prairies. To all these pleas for help she
gives a listening ear. Her charities are varied and boundless, and her
hospitalities to the poor as well as the rich, courteous and generous.
The refinement and artistic taste of the Southern mother and the heroic
virtues of the father are happily blended in their daughter. In her
beautiful home on Seneca Lake, one is always sure to meet some of the
most charming representatives of the progressive thought of our times.
Representatives of all these generations now rest in the cemetery at
Peterboro, and as in review they passed before me they seemed to say,
"Why linger you here alone so long?"
My son Theodore arrived from Paris in September, 1895, and rendered most
important service during the preparations for my birthday celebration,
in answering letters, talking with reporters, and making valuable
suggestions to the managers as to many details in the arrangements, and
encouraging me to go through the ordeal with my usual heroism. I never
felt so nervous in my life, and so unfitted for the part I was in duty
bound to perform. From much speaking through many years my voice was
hoarse, from a severe fall I was quite lame, and as standing, and
distinct speaking are important to graceful oratory, I felt like the
king's daughter in Shakespeare's play of "Titus Andronicus," when rude
men who had cut her hands off and her tongue out, told her to call for
water and wash her hands. However, I lived through the ordeal, as the
reader will see in the next chapter.
After my birthday celebration, the next occasion of deep interest to me
was the Chicago Convention of 1896, the platform there adopted, and the
nomination and brilliant campaign of William J. Bryan. I had long been
revolving in my mind questions relating to the tariff and finance, and
in the demands of liberal democrats, populists, socialists, and the
laboring men and women, I heard the clarion notes of the coming
revolution.
During the winter of 1895-96 I was busy writing alternately on this
autobiography and "The Woman's Bible," and articles for magazines and
journals on every possible subject from Venezuela and Cuba to the
bicycle. On the latter subject many timid souls were greatly distressed.
Should women ride? What should they wear? What are "God's intentions"
concerning them? Should they ride on Sunday? These questions were asked
with all seriousness. We had a symposium on these points in one of the
daily papers. To me the answer to all these questions was simple--if
woman could ride, it was evidently "God's intention" that she be
permitted to do so. As to what she should wear, she must decide what is
best adapted to her comfort and convenience. Those who prefer a spin of
a few hours on a good road in the open air to a close church and a dull
sermon, surely have the right to choose, whether with trees and flowers
and singing birds to worship in "That temple not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens," or within four walls to sleep during the
intonation of that melancholy service that relegates us all, without
distinction of sex or color, to the ranks of "miserable sinners." Let
each one do what seemeth right in her own eyes, provided she does not
encroach on the rights of others.
In May, 1896, I again went to Geneva and found the bicycle craze had
reached there, with all its most pronounced symptoms; old and young,
professors, clergymen, and ladies of fashion were all spinning merrily
around on business errands, social calls, and excursions to distant
towns. Driving down the avenue one day, we counted eighty bicycles
before reaching the post-office. The ancient bandbox, so detested by our
sires and sons, has given place to this new machine which our daughters
take with them wheresoever they go, boxing and unboxing and readjusting
for each journey. It has been a great blessing to our girls in
compelling them to cultivate their self-reliance and their mechanical
ingenuity, as they are often compelled to mend the wheel in case of
accident. Among the visitors at Geneva were Mr. Douglass and his
daughter from the island of Cuba. They gave us very sad accounts of the
desolate state of the island and the impoverished condition of the
people. I had long felt that the United States should interfere in some
way to end that cruel warfare, for Spain has proved that she is
incompetent to restore order and peace.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: Part II. of "The Woman's Bible," which completes the work,
will be issued in January, 1898.]