CHAPTER I.
First arrival in America—Welcome at Mrs. Laura Curtis
Bullard's—A Presidential campaign—Personal recollections of Horace
Greeley—General politics—Disinclination of the best people to take part
in them—Cincinnati riots in 1884.
"THE distance between New York and London is much
shorter than between London and New York," is a common saying, which being
interpreted means, that while English people find a voyage to the United
States a great undertaking, not to be entertained save for business
purposes, Americans are ready to start off on the smallest possible excuse
at a day's notice, and a "trip to Europe" invariably figures among the
possibilities of the yearly list of summer plans.
"I have crossed the Atlantic twenty-seven times," said a charming Southern
lady the other day, just as I was thinking that my six voyages and varied
experiences on Cunard, Inman, and White Star steamers entitled me to
consider myself as "quite an old traveller!" When I first went to America,
twelve years ago, English visitors were indeed few and far between. Mrs.
Trollope, Frederika Bremer, Harriet Martineau, Thackeray, Charles Dickens,
and others, had travelled through the States, and published their personal
impressions, but no prophet of Art had crossed the Atlantic to preach the
gospel of the beautiful; no theatrical company with complete scenery and
properties had invaded the American stage, though solitary "stars" had
occasionally ventured over to win the suffrages of dramatic audiences, and
even English lecturers had only stormed "Lyceum platforms" in single file;
but that very season (1872-73) witnessed the debut of Mr. Tyndall, Mr.
Froude, Professor Huxley, Edmund Yates, George MacDonald, and several
other Britons more or less distinguished. Ever since then the cry
has been, "Still they come." In fact the influx of English
travellers, artists, actors, lecturers, etc., has gone on increasing every
year to such an extent that a New York editor last October kindly
expressed the fear "that London must be feeling quite lonely," [1]
while another observed in reference to the report that the Baroness
Burdett Coutts intended to visit America, "Thank fortune, she will spend
her own money, as she will not be obliged to act, sing, lecture, or accept
hospitable free lunches for support while she is here!"
I first reached New York in the autumn of 1872, in the early
glory of the season known there as the Indian summer. I was
suffering so much from asthma, that I could scarcely appreciate the scene
as we steamed slowly up the lovely bay—the clear atmosphere, and the blue
water speckled over with white sails. Lowell has sung of the rare
beauty of a day in June, when
"'Tis as easy for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue—
'Tis the natural way of living;"
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but I learned to revel in those exquisite autumn days, and the magnificent
aspect of the woods, on which the very rainbows seemed to have cast their
mantle, together with every brilliant hue ever seen in bird or flower.
And how glad I was to find myself once more upon the solid
land!
"A life on the ocean wave,
A home on the rolling deep,"
|
may be a very pleasant song on terra firma, but few landsmen are in
a condition to appreciate it after leaving the Mersey. Happily for
mankind, a sea voyage does not of necessity involve such a painful
experience to every one; on me it brings the miseries of asthma, as well
as sea-sickness. I suffered from a mental irritation I can not
easily describe, as one poetical fiction after another flitted through my
tortured brain the part most affected, according to Sir James Alderson's
theory, by the motion of the sea. For instance, imagine the contrast
suggested by the cruel, relentless buffetings experienced throughout a
voyage from Liverpool to New York, in which the equinoctial gales played
their strongest part, constantly upsetting everything in the state-room,
and once nearly throwing me out of my berth, and that line recalling the
motherly tenderness enjoyed during childhood—
"Rocked in the cradle of the deep."
I felt much more in sympathy with an extraordinary sonnet to the sea which
was published in one of the leading New York papers a few mornings after
my arrival, commencing "Prodigious dampness."
When I first landed, as a stranger, with but few personal
friends in the whole country, I had every confidence in the kind reception
promised me, but my anticipations fell far short of the reality. I
found myself the recipient of a generous and never-to-be-forgotten
hospitality; and I gladly embrace this opportunity of recording my
heartfelt gratitude for the universal kindness lavished on me in every
city I visited throughout my three tours, bringing me into direct social
communion with the leading men and women in America.
On leaving the steamer I at once exchanged the few square
yards sarcastically described as "a stateroom," for Mrs. Bullard's
beautiful home in East 39th Street. This was made my
"headquarters"—my American home, in every sense of the word. Not
only was every personal kindness showered on me by the whole family, but
as Mrs. Bullard's father kept "open house," I was introduced into New York
society in the pleasantest fashion; not at stiff crowded receptions, but
at genial family dinners, where the radiators and reflectors were in full
force, and absorbents conspicuous by their absence. The house was
the constant resort of some of the brightest and ablest American
financiers, editors, poets, and artists from all parts of the country.
To any one who associated the idea of a literary woman with
the picture drawn of "the strong-minded blue-stocking" of olden days, with
her outré manners, masculine ways,
and total absence of all feminine grace, Mrs. Bullard must indeed have
been a revelation. Always dressed in exquisite taste, with a
remarkably handsome face, expressive eyes, and that nameless charm which
belongs to the refined and cultivated lady. Mrs. Bullard impressed
you as much with a sense of her brilliant social qualities as her
intellectual gifts. The correspondent of several foreign magazines,
busy in philanthropic enterprises, and one of the most brilliant
conversationalists I ever met, she naturally attracted around her not only
those interested in social and educational reforms, but the best elements
in literary and artistic circles. Her "evenings at home" reminded me
of the pleasantest gatherings I ever attended at certain noted houses in
London and Paris, where politicians and foreign diplomatists, men of
science, poets, and wits, were skilfully commingled.
On board the Oceanic I had encountered one of the
strangest individuals I have yet met in full possession of his liberty.
Attired in a heavy sealskin coat, George Francis Train introduced himself
to me by exclaiming, as he struck his heart with his hand, "Madam, you
have seen a Republican and a Democrat, but in me behold an American
citizen." He then presented me with a photograph of himself, beneath
which was printed, after his name, "Future President of the United
States," and proceeded to inform me that directly he was installed in the
White House, he should demand a large sum of money from the English
Government as compensation for unjust imprisonment. Failing to
receive a cable by return acceding to his claim, it was his intention to
hang the English minister to a lamp-post at Washington!
In the interests of my good friend Sir Edward Thornton, it
was some relief to ascertain that Mr. Train's ambitious pretensions
received no support from his countrymen; the Presidential struggle was
between poor Horace Greeley and General Grant, and at Mrs. Bullard's house
I frequently met the former. Eccentric benevolence was the first
impression made by a personal appearance which reminded you irresistibly
of Dickens's Pickwick. His head was the large strong head of a
self-made man, but his temperament was as impulsive as his intellect was
keen. Like the English king who was accused "of never saying a
foolish thing, and never doing a wise one," it was said by many that Mr.
Greeley "always advised well, but invariably acted foolishly." He
preached hard economy, but gave away his money freely to any one who asked
him for it. There was something about him which told at once of the
inward strife between the intellectual and emotional, while a quaint,
fascinating humour ran through all his remarks on the political contest in
which he was playing so conspicuous a part. He spoke with unreserved
bitterness on the corruption revealed during the strife, and appeared to
have lost hope, not only of his own success, but of raising the general
political tone of the country.
The Grant and Greeley contest was said to be one of the
bitterest on record, and I heard more than one American express his
readiness to accept "the conditions of a throne whose occupant consents to
be an antiquarian symbol," rather than the long train of evils which
follow in the wake of a Presidential election. The fame of hundreds
of men seems the cost paid for taking an active part in it. Scandals
are unsparingly raked up, characters are blackened to the everlasting
distress of the victim and his family, and bribery and corruption are
rampant. Finally, the country for four years bows to the sway of a
man accused by a large portion of it of being guilty of every possible
offence against law and morality. Even Lincoln had a hard time of it
till his tragical death made his name as sacred as the heroes of old.
"Speak good of the dead," says the heathen maxim, but the Christians of
the nineteenth century seem inclined to speak well of the dead only.
While people live their defects are magnified and their actions misjudged.
If induced to hold out the olive branch of forgiveness to any one who has
offended, it is too often in the spirit described by the American preacher
as "that ugly kind of hedgehog forgiveness shot out like quills."
People set down the erring one before the blow-pipe of their indignation,
scorch him and burn his fault into him, and when they have kneaded him
sufficiently with their fiery fists, then they forgive him! Our
forgiveness is too often conditional, like the sick negro's, who promised
if he died to forgive his enemy, adding quickly, "But if I gets well that
darkie must take care!"
Mr. Greeley committed the unpardonable offence in the eyes of
the Woman's Suffrage supporters of opposing their movement; they
accordingly forgot his earnest advocacy of the industrial interests of the
sex, that he was the first to open New York journalism to women by the
employment of Margaret Fuller on the New York Tribune. Bitter
were the reproaches heaped on his devoted head for "his persistent and
scornful mockery of woman's efforts to rise from the helplessness in which
she was morassed, and the false etiquette by which she was befogged"—to
quote one of the singular indictments I noted at the time.
The last evening I saw Mr. Greeley, the contest was over, but
the effects were lasting; family affliction, too, had overtaken him, and
all the fibres of his great nature were spent and quivering. He
ended our conversation by assuring me that if he knew for certain he
should die before six o'clock the next morning, he should go to rest
happily. Within one month the summons came, and this remarkable
public man, who had writhed under the criticisms to which he had been
subjected during the Presidential campaign, and the cartoons which had
made him an object of ridicule throughout the civilized world, passed out
of the reach of human praise or blame.
Then his country realized what they had lost! Political
opponents as well as personal friends poured praises into "the dull, cold
ear of death." Thousands of men went to the hall where he lay in
state to take the last look at his familiar features, and weeping women
laid immortelles on his bier. His bitterest enemies admitted his
strict integrity, and his wonderful and indefatigable industry. As
an inflexible foe of administrative corruption, Mr. Greeley's death caused
an irreparable void in the circle of truly great and representative
Americans.
When shall we learn the lesson that while honour is for the
dead, gratitude can only be for the living? As Mr. Ruskin tells us,
again and again, we think it enough to garland the tombstone when we have
refused to crown the brow. Every loyal Englishman now recalls the
name of Prince Albert with a sincere regret for the contemptible hostility
shown him during his lifetime. We had indeed no cause to be proud of
the foreign element previously introduced into the families of English
sovereigns. The nation still remembered the fanatical husband of
Mary and the drunken partner of Anne, and it deliberately shut its eyes to
the virtues of the really good man Queen Victoria had chosen as her
consort, till on a gloomy December day the news of his death was flashed
through the Kingdom. Then people realized that what the word Duty
had been to Arthur the Great, Progress was to Albert the Good; that he had
indeed refrained from making his high place the vantage-ground of either
pleasure or "winged ambitions," but had—
"Through all this tract of years,
Worn the white flower of a blameless life,
Before a thousand peering littlenesses,
In that fierce light which beats upon a throne,
And blackens every blot."
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How much wiser and nobler, amid the tumult and strife of
life, to listen for the voices and watch for the lamps which God has toned
and lighted to charm and guide us, instead of waiting to learn their
sweetness only by their silence and their light by their decay!
Political life in America is at a low ebb, owing to the
disinclination of the best section of society to have anything to do with
it. "You can't touch politics here and remain uncorrupted," has been
frequently said to me by those who are content to stand passively by,
while a crowd of wire-pullers and professional politicians fight for place
and spoil.
During the last two years, however, some young men of the
best families have awakened to a sense of their individual responsibility
with regard to public matters, and have organized a club with the view of
encouraging an active participation in political movements. How much
remains to be done can not be doubted by any one who has carefully read
American newspapers for a few months. I have made many extracts on
this subject. As an example of the opinion of the leading papers, I
will quote the following sentence from an article in a New York daily,
which boldly asserts that "many public offices are filled by notoriously
unfit persons, foisted into place by the worst elements that infect
municipal politics." By others the scandals caused by the
extravagances of the City Fathers and Aldermen are denounced in no
measured terms; the Boston Herald, for example, declaring that
"some members of the late City Council ate and drank more at the city's
expense in one year than they ever did at their own cost in ten."
The Chicago Tribune, in speaking of the defective criminal code and
consequent miscarriage of justice; says: "The state laws, as a rule,
provide for ignorant and vicious juries; but two classes under present
practice are available. The one is composed of men who are either
too illiterate to read or too indifferent to what is going on to keep
themselves posted; such men are not capable of weighing evidence nor of
appreciating the rights of society. The other class is composed of
men who are in active sympathy with the criminal classes, and are always
prepared to perjure themselves by affecting sufficient ignorance to
qualify for jury service. In the one case society is the victim of
ignorance, and in the other the victim of perjury. The law must be
remodelled in such a manner as not merely to admit, but to require, the
service of the most reputable and intelligent citizens as jurors in
criminal cases." The criminal laws were evidently framed more for
the escape of the offender than the protection of the public, and they
have naturally served to further the selfish interests of unscrupulous
lawyers rather than to provide for the punishment of crime. The
people have at last almost despaired of obtaining protection of life and
property through the courts, for in vain have these abuses been protested
against by intelligent citizens and denounced by the Press, and however
lamentable, it is scarcely surprising that the temptation to Lynch law has
been in some cases irresistible.
Of course there is imperfection everywhere, in republics as
well as monarchies: if we wait till angels administer government, most
countries would have a long interregnum! But it is clear to those
who love America, and appreciate its boundless possibilities for good or
evil, that one of the sacrifices imperatively demanded of those who value
their nation's wellbeing is time given up to public matters from personal
money-getting, pleasure, or even culture. As long as the aristocracy
of wealth and culture shrink from political life, or are too much absorbed
in their own interests to fulfil the duties of citizenship, so long will
power be in the hands of unscrupulous leaders, to the detriment of all
concerned. Our European aristocracies can not divest themselves of
their responsibilities, and those who are in high positions in a republic
have an equally grave task imposed upon them; they are their brother's
keeper, whether they acknowledge it or no; and if no effort is made to
fulfil just obligations, retribution may follow when least expected.
"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us."
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Mr. Wallis Mackay, who crossed the Atlantic in the City of
Rome when I made my last visit to America, shortly after his arrival,
visited under police protection, some of those terrible haunts in New York
answering to the dens of "the outcast poor" in London. "Why," he
asked, "are such vile places allowed to exist?" The patrol replied,
"For the rents, of course; and then, too, the votes are important."
There is a terrible undercurrent seething already in the hearts of the
poorer classes, and the envious self of poverty is rising up in natural
reaction against the ostentatious selfishness of wealth. Two
Americans were walking on Fifth Avenue last winter, and discussing this
very subject. "Look there," said one, pointing to the palace of a
well-known millionaire, "I should never be surprised to see a riot in
front of that house."
Many thoughtful men regarded the terrible three days which
took place in Cincinnati last March as the "fruition of as many decades of
political and moral degeneracy." The better element in Cincinnati
has now learnt, by an exceptionally bitter experience, that public duties
can not be shirked without absoluted anger. Every effort must be
made to purify municipal government by selecting, without reference to
political views, men of irreproachable integrity and undoubted
qualifications for offices of trust and responsibility. It is to be
hoped that other cities will take the lesson to heart, without waiting to
have the consequences of similar neglect burnt into their very souls by so
fatal an experience. When this is done, dangerous agitations will be
less frequent, and the cherished rights of life and property will be duly
respected in the United States.
CHAPTER II.
Reception at Steinway Hall—The Sorosis Club—Mrs. Croly—Miss
Mary L. Booth—Louise Chandler Moulton—Clergy-women—Dr. Mary Putnam-Jacobi—Harper's
printing-office—Riverside Press at Cambridge, Mass.—Women printers and
the Victoria Press—Queen Victoria's views on women's spheres—Mr.
Gladstone on monopolies—Messrs. Young, Ladd & Coffin's manufactory of Lunborg's Perfumes—Mrs. Stanton and Susan B. Anthony—Hon. Gerrit Smith
at Peterboro—Winter travelling in America—Mrs. Parke Godwin and an Art
reception.
AN American paper remarked that when I returned to England and was asked
what most struck me with wonder and pleasure in the United States, I could
reply, promptly and truthfully, "The superb reception given me at Steinway
Hall," for, it continued, "no such demonstration has hitherto been
witnessed on
this continent."
I certainly shall ever remember with grateful pride the kind
recognition I received that night, when every face on that crowded
platform belonged to some
one known to fame, and the body of the hall itself was packed from
floor to ceiling "with as notable an audience as ever gathered within its
walls." The
programme of the Reception Committee is a record of the representative
ladies of New York, all eminent in literature, art, science, and industry. As it
indicates the professional revolution of the last decade, it must have a
place in these reminiscences.
Journalists.
Miss Mary Booth, Editor of Harper's Bazaar.
Mrs. Mary E. Dodge, Editor of Hearth and Home.
Mrs. Croly, Editor of Demorest's Monthly. |
Authors.
Mrs. E. D. R. Stoddart. Mrs. Mary Bradley.
Miss Virginia Townsend. |
Artists.
Mrs. Eliza Greatorex. Mrs. Carter.
Mrs. Elizabeth Murray,
Principal of School of Design, C. I. |
Physicians.
Mrs. C. S. Lozier, M.D.
Miss Sarah E. Furnas, M.D.
Mrs. S. M. Ellis, M.D. |
Dramatic and Musical
Mrs. Edwin Booth. Mrs. Van Zandt.
Miss Antoinette Sterling. Miss Clara Louise Kellogg.
Miss M. A. Simens. |
Engravers.
Miss Charlotte B. Coggswell,
Principal of the School of Engraving, C.I.
Miss S. F. Fuller. |
Industrial.
Madame Bussonie, Forewoman at Arnold, Constable & Co.'s
Mrs. Rampden, Supt. of Ladies' Department, Lord & Taylor.
Miss Mary Moore, President of the Women's Typographical Union.
Miss Snow, Professor of Telegraphy. |
Associate Ladies.
Mrs. F. Bryant Godwin. Mrs. Jonathan Sturgis.
Mrs. Abram S. Hewitt. Mrs. O. B. Frothingham.
Mrs. P;. L. Youmans. Mrs. Henry M. Field.
Mrs. Laura Curtis Bullard. |
Such a committee naturally brought together a representative gathering,
unique in its character, and graceful alike in its recognition of
woman's work and English effort. Long before the hour that huge
building was completely
filled; there were even people in the dreary haunt of the gods—the upper
gallery,—and many stood throughout the evening, being unable to obtain
sitting room in any part of the hall.
Never shall I forget my feelings as I threaded my way across the crowded
platform, just as Miss Toedt commenced a solo on the violin. After this
Mrs. Van
Zandt sang "Waiting," and Miss Antoinette Sterling closed the evening's
proceedings by singing "A man's a man for a' that," and evoked the
greatest
enthusiasm. Mrs. Henry Field, who occupied the chair, gave me a formal and
generous welcome, and then spoke at length on the dignity of labour,
claiming
that the woman who supports herself is entitled to ascend in the social as
she does in the moral scale; not to be pitied or patronized, but to be
respected
for her spirit of independence. No law can secure her such respect, no
decree of a court of justice can fix her social position, it must be
freely accorded by
society as a homage to her true womanly dignity. The world makes an
exception for the woman of genius, and if by voice, pen or pencil she adds
to its
pleasures, it throws at her feet crowns of flowers and harvests of gold.
"Why is it," naturally asks Mrs. Field, "that the thought of a lady working
for money in
any other sphere—even that of the teacher, so important to the family
and society—is still so reluctantly accepted? To work, and to work for
pay, is no
disgrace. A woman who feels an inspiration can not work without an object,
merely to kill time." Genius, and even talent, is given to few, and the
idea that
brain-work is alone fitted for a lady compelled to work has made shipwreck
of the life and happiness of many women. Naturally they shrink from
vocations, foolishly made a badge of social inferiority.
Mrs. Field made an eloquent appeal to all present "to avoid an idle,
aimless life, dependence upon friends, or, what is worse, marriage to
escape work or
to gain a position. If you can not work with your brains," she continued,
"work with your hands,—bravely, openly, keeping your self-respect and
independence. Work was never meant to be a curse or a shame; it is the
surest element of growth and happiness. Better be a good
dressmaker than a bad teacher or weak writer for magazines. With women
rests the power to right their sex from an absurd prejudice, and those
possessed of wealth, talent, or position should never fail to recognize,
with real sympathy, the honest worker, however humble."
When this address was concluded, I was called upon to speak of the rise
and progress of the movement in England; and as I rose and received from
that
significant audience a welcome as overpowering as it was gratifying, only
those can imagine my feelings who have themselves stood before some vast
assembly in a foreign land, conscious alike of personal shortcomings and
responsibility. I endeavoured to describe the change which has taken place
in
England during the last fifty years, machinery having effected a complete
revolution in our domestic economy, taking woman's work, in the lower
branches
of industry, out of the home into the manufactory; the increasing number
of educated ladies desiring remunerative employment, some as a means
whereby to live, others to satisfy a higher craving, alluding to those who
fail to find rest for their souls in an endless round of unsatisfying
amusements.
I freely acknowledged that if the leaders of the movement measured the
result of past efforts by the number of fresh avenues already opened, I
thought we
should have little cause for congratulation; but when we estimated the
changed tone of public opinion in regard to these matters, there seemed no
reason
to regret the earnest work and patient waiting, for at last the
co-operation of the general public had been obtained, and this is a most
important step toward
the true solution of this difficult and delicate problem.
Another notable gathering took place about the same time at Delmonico's,
when I sat down with two hundred ladies in the large dining-hall of this
popular
restaurant—the guest of the Sorosis Club. The Sorosis was the first
woman's club formed in New York. It was organized in 1869, to promote
"mental
activity and pleasant social intercourse," and in spite of a severe fire
of hostile criticism and misrepresentation, it has evinced a sturdy
vitality, and really
demonstrated its right to exist by a large amount of beneficent work. Miss
Alice Cary was its first president, but ill-health soon compelled her
to
resign the office; its earliest list of members included 38 ladies engaged
in literature, 6 editors, 12 poets, 6 musicians, 25 authors, 3 physicians,
4
professors, 2 artists, 9 teachers, 10 lecturers, 1 historian, 1 scientific
author, and a host of smaller lights. These ladies pledged themselves to
work for the
release of women from the disabilities which debar them from a due
participation in the rewards of industrial and professional labour—in
short, to promote
all that is brave, noble, and true in the sex. Some people still ask,
"What has Sorosis done?" I believe it has been the stepping-stone to
useful public
careers, and the source of inspiration to many ladies. Anyhow it has
proved that women are not destitute of the power of acting harmoniously
together, but
can tolerate differences, respect devotion to principle, and meet on
higher ground than that of mere personal liking or identity of social
clique. Miss Frances
Power Cobbe and I were elected during the first year honorary foreign
members, and duly presented with the insignia worn by the sisterhood. At
the
Sorosis monthly social meetings, after luncheon, papers are read on all
kinds of subjects, and discussions follow which elicit various opinions,
and the
president then sums up the arguments that have been advanced, and
pronounces her verdict thereon. Mrs. Croly, who has held this office for
the last four
years, is particularly happy in this branch of her duty, always casting
some new and practical light on the subject under discussion. This lady is
perhaps best known under her nom de plume, "Jennie June."
She is not only the presiding genius of Demorest's Monthly, but sends throughout the American
press spirited newspaper letters, not simply on matters of grave
importance, but on topics of dress and fashion so dear to the heart of the
sex—even the
strong-minded contingent! Mrs. Croly's weekly reunions in her pleasant
home in East 71st Street attract all literary and artistic New Yorkers,
and most of
the notable strangers passing through the city.
Not less delightful are Miss Booth's "Saturday evenings," when, much to
the satisfaction of her large circle of friends, she and Miss Wright keep
"open house." The rare judgment displayed by this accomplished woman as
the editor of Harper's Bazaar has made that paper one of the best of its
kind,
and a valuable source of income to its proprietors. She is a fine German
scholar, and first made her mark by her translations. Like Mrs. Croly, day
in
and day out, Miss Booth is to be found in her editorial room in the
publisher's office; both ladies combine business talent with literary
skill and culture, and
know how to return "rejected manuscripts" with kind, encouraging words
that soften the aspirant's disappointment. Louise Chandler Moulton, whose
friendship I fortunately made at this early stage of my American tour, is,
on the other hand, purely intellectual; her delightful letters on all
kinds of literary
and social subjects and foreign travel, over the signature L. C. M., are
deservedly prized, and have a high market value. Her stories for children
prove her
title to one of the rarest gifts in literature; she is also a poetess, a
veritable singer, whose "songs spring from the heart"—full of delicate
fancies, glowing
with fervour and unrivalled in grace of expression. Her volume entitled "Swallow Flights" lies in a treasured
nook near at hand, but I dare not
single out the
favourite poems—they are too numerous.
At Sorosis I made my first acquaintance with a clergywomen,— a new
departure indeed to one reared in all the prejudices of English Episcopalianism. The
venerable Lucretia Mott and other ladies had often preached; Mrs. Van Cott
had occupied Methodist Pulpits; but the Rev. Olympia Brown and the Rev.
Celia Burleigh were regularly ordained clergywomen, and many others have
since followed in their lead. Mrs. Burleigh belonged to the Unitarian
denomination, and it was the dying wish of her husband that she should
devote herself to the ministry. On the day of her ordination the village
church was
decked with flowers; a large cross of autumn leaves decorated the back of
the pulpit, and on the front of it was placed a heart formed of exquisite
tube and
tea roses. The Rev. Phœbe Hanaford opened the service with prayer; the
Rev. John A. Chadwick preached from Matt. xvi. 19, "The keys of the
kingdom
of heaven," and during his sermon claimed that to further God's work on
earth they had "assembled to ordain this woman." The ordination prayer was
pronounced by the Rev. W. P. Tilden, and the Rev. W. T. Potter gave the
charge. A letter was read from the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher regretting his
enforced absence, and offering Mrs. Burleigh "the right hand of
fellowship in the Christian ministry," stating his belief that there are "elements of the gospel
which a woman can bring out far more successfully than a man can." Certainly it must be admitted that women are naturally reverent,
spiritual-minded,
and inclined to faith. Throughout the world women form the bulk of church
organizations, and are the chief attendants at its services. Some regard
them as
"the custodians of religion"; and therefore if a chosen few feel inclined
to embrace the clerical calling, perhaps it would be better to dismiss our
prejudices,
and allow them to preach the gospel of glad tidings in an official
capacity, Mrs. Burleigh remained for some years with the congregation
which installed her
as its duly authorized minister, but she has now been called upon to
render an account of her stewardship to One who is no respecter of sex or
persons.
Among the first women physicians who interested me I must name Dr. Mary
Putnam-Jacobi, the daughter of the well-known publisher, in whose company
I
spent a most agreeable day while visiting some of the charitable
institutions in New York with the members of the Acadian Club. During an
excursion up
the East River, a very amusing incident took place. The trip was organized
in honour of Mr. Froude as well as myself, and it included an impromptu
visit to the school-ship Mercury, which was anchored off Hart's Island. Captain Giraud was taken much by surprise at the unexpected signal; to fire a gun
and
have the boys out on parade was the work of a moment, but to "place his
guests," and distinguish between their names, was quite another affair. He
mixed them up quite as hopelessly as Buttercup in The Pinafore mixed up
the babies, and proceeded to introduce me to the officers as Mrs. Froude,
and
Mr. Froude as Mr. Faithfull, to the overwhelming confusion of the
historian, who had left a wife at home, and had no intention of starting
another Mrs. Froude
in America.
At the time I speak of, Miss Putnam, who was unmarried, was the frequent
guest of one of my oldest and most valued friends, Miss Kate Hillard, of
Brooklyn, with whom I was also staying. Many lady doctors have now won
their way to splendid positions,—some are earning from 10,000 to 20,000
dollars
a year; but medical men freely acknowledge that Dr. Mary Putnam-Jacobi
would be regarded, "even as a man," as one of the most prominent members
of the profession. Her diploma was obtained in Paris, and one of her
ablest publications is an article contributed to the New York Medical
Journal
respecting her observations in the Paris hospitals during the siege of
that city. She won there a prize in the shape of a medal in the French
École
de
Medicine, and has recently published a book which has become an accepted
authority on the diseases dealt with. I am told pathology is her strong
point, and perhaps this is the most intricate branch of the healing
science.
It may be noted here that the first medical college for women was opened
at Boston in 1848, when twelve valiant women ventured to brave the
ridicule that assailed the movement. Miss Blackwell—English by birth—had already
graduated from Geneva College, and was then the only woman with a diploma
in
the States. To-day there are numbers practicing medicine with more or less
of a degree, but I have Dr. Putnam-Jacobi's authority for stating, that
while in
1882 we had 19 registered women practitioners in England, there are more
than 400 qualified lady doctors in America. An excellent article, asking,
"Shall women practice medicine?" will be found in the North American Review
(January, 1882), in which Dr. Putnam-Jacobi combats the prejudice which
still
exists in some circles even in "the land of the free."
A visit to Messrs. Harpers' celebrated printing office in Franklin Square
was a great treat to me. I felt at home as I stood in their
composing-rooms
watching the bright, industrious girls at case, setting up type with
expedition and accuracy. It reminded me of the days when my own Victoria
Press struggled into an existence that had an effect far beyond its own
little immediate centre, and fortunately secured the Queen's approval, and
drew
from Her Majesty not only a personal warrant, as a mark of her
satisfaction with work executed for her, but the most gracious expression
of cordial interest
in the opening of all new and appropriate industries to women, further
informing me that Mr. Woodward, recently appointed librarian, had employed
ladies,
at the Queen's suggestion, to aid him in making out a catalogue of Her
Majesty's books.
A visit to Harvard a few weeks later was still more gratifying, when Mr.
Houghton, one of the proprietors of the Riverside Press, took me over that
vast
establishment. The composing-room is ninety feet long, the walls were
adorned with engravings, the window-sills bright with flowers,
embellishments said
to be due to "refining feminine influence." The men and women were working
side by side; and Mr, Houghton spoke in glowing terms, not so much of the
work done by nimble feminine fingers, but of the moral effect of the
women's presence there. Bad language and bad habits had been banished, and
he
declared it was impossible to overrate the good achieved, adding, that in
in the mere interests of of business nothing would induce him for the
future to let
the men and women work in separate rooms. This Press is justly esteemed
one of the model printing
in America. It reminded me of the good old clays when the printer was
always a scholar. The heads of the departments were college men, Harvard,
Yale,
and Williams being all represented in the counting-office. On concluding
the tour of inspection, Mr. Houghton reminded me of a visit he had paid to
my
London printing establishment, adding that the idea of introducing women
compositors into his own office had been due to what he had seen and heard
at
the Victoria Press. Then, indeed, I felt amply repaid for the anxieties
attending my early efforts in this direction, for I realized that not only
had they helped
English girls, but influenced the fate of their American sisters across
the Atlantic Ocean. It is true that here and there women had gained a
footing in
printing-offices before this. It is even said that the original document
of the Declaration of Independence was printed by a lady, one Mary
Catherine
Goddard. Penelope Russell succeeded her husband in printing The Censor at
Boston in 1771; and it is recorded that she not only set type rapidly at
case,
but often would set up short sketches without any copy at all, "a feat of
memory," says the American newspaper reporter, "rivalling those
attributed to Bret
Harte while on the Pacific coast." Mrs. Jane Atkin, of Boston, was also
noted in 1802 as a thorough printer and most accurate proof-reader. Several
English solitary cases might be cited, and one or two attempts—notably at M'Corquodale's printing-offices—had been made on a small scale previous
to
the opening of the Victoria Press. But when I first attempted to
introduce women as compositors, it was still no easy matter to overcome
the
opposition of the trades-union. As Mr. Gladstone said in his speech on
monopolies, "The printer's monopoly is a powerful combination, which has
for its
first principle that no woman shall be employed—for reasons obvious
enough—viz., that women are admirably suited for that trade, having a
niceness of
touch which would enable them to handle type better than men." The
Victoria Press was opened in 1860 in the face of a determined opposition,
and I
was only able to make a success of what was deemed by many "a rash
experiment," thanks to the liberal support accorded by friends who
appreciated
the difficulties raised by those who tried to check the movement by every
means in their power. The opposition was not only directed against the
capitalist, but the girl apprentices were subjected to all kinds of
annoyance. Tricks of a most unmanly nature were resorted to, their frames
and stools were
covered with ink to destroy their dresses unawares, the letters were mixed
up in their boxes, and the cases were emptied of "sorts." The men who
were induced to come into the office to work the presses and teach the
girls, had to assume false names to avoid detection, as the printers'
union forbade
their aiding the obnoxious scheme. Even toward the close of 1879, in
response for an extra hand to fulfil pressing orders, the Secretary of the
London
Society of Compositors stated that "unless an assurance could be given
that the said compositor would not be called on to assist the females in
any way,"
no Society man could be sent; and a resolution was passed by that Society
to the effect "that no man belonging to it should touch work in any way
handled
by women," and the members were ordered to leave any office directly it
was "discovered that women were employed as type-setters." Nevertheless,
after some years of work and anxiety, and a serious loss of money, in
spite of foes without and traitors within, property purposely destroyed,
and
machinery wantonly injured, the little bark was steered through the
natural and artificial perils by which it was surrounded, and, after an
existence of twenty
years, it accomplished the work for which it was specially designed, for
compositors were drafted from it into other printing offices, and the
business has
been practically opened to women.
Another scene of female industry interested me greatly in New York. Mr.
Rimmel claims to have been the first to have employed women in England on
a
large scale in the manufacture of perfumes, and Messrs. Young, Ladd &
Coffin, the makers of Lunborg's exquisite perfumes and Rhenish Cologne,
are
entitled to the same honour in America. "The rich man's luxury is the poor
man's bread"; if scent must rank as a luxury, it certainly is one which
affords
work for thousands. But it is more than that, it is a sanitary agent as
well, and an adjunct to the refinements of life with which a high
civilization
can not dispense. In Messrs. Young, Ladd & Coffin's establishment in
Broadway I found a large number of women employed in the bottling,
corking, and
labelling of the dainty perfumes manufactured there, and which not only
hold their own in America against the scents imported from old-established
European laboratories
but are rapidly becoming popular with us in England thanks to the
enterprise of the well-known American chemists on Snow Hill, Messrs.
Burroughs &
Wellcome, who have introduced them here, and the Prince of Wales has
singled out "The Edenia" as one of his favourite perfumes. Its delicacy
and
exquisite odour is not to be surpassed. The marvellous fragrance of
American flowers can not fail to impress the English traveller, but
efforts to cultivate
them on flower-farms for the purpose of perfume manufacture—similar to
those seen in France and Italy—are checked by the difficulties at
present
surrounding the labour question. The "extracts" are now imported largely
from the Old World; but I may note that the perfumes made by Young, Ladd
&
Coffin are put into dainty bottles, some of those I most admired being the
"Limoges jugs"" made by the women-workers at the famous Cincinnati
Rockwood Pottery, which is under the control of a very clever lady, the
daughter of the wealthy wine-grower, Mr. Longworth. Some of the plaques,
bowls, and vases produced at this pottery have deservedly received the
recognition of leading Art connoisseurs. Young, Ladd & Coffin, unlike Mr. Rimmel,
confine themselves entirely to the manufacture of scents, while he is
always breaking out in some new direction. For the benefit of ocean travellers,
let me recommend as an excellent cabin companion Rimmel's recent
invention, "The Aromatic Ozonizer." It not only acts as a natural air
purifier, but is
reviving and health-giving as well, emitting the. wonderful virtues of the
pine and eucalyptus trees. It has a marvellous effect on the respiratory
organs, and
always brings back to me the delicious fragrance of the pine woods of
Arcachon, a delightful resort on the coast of Spain, where I spent some
months a
few years since.
During my residence at Mrs. Bullard's I was introduced to two of the
best-known woman suffragists, Mrs. Stanton and Susan B. Anthony. They
both struck
me as thoroughly disinterested, and equally in earnest about "the cause"
to which their lives have been devoted. Mrs. Stanton, a charming old lady
with
fascinating silver curls, is full of fun and vivacity, and abounds in
anecdotes and witticisms; rather than not tell a good story, she will
narrate a joke against
herself. She was the first to advocate in America the woman's right to
vote, introducing a motion, at the Convention held in July, 1848, at
Seneca Falls,
much even to the alarm of Lucretia Mott. The resolution was carried, and
laid the foundation of the struggle which is going on at the present hour.
Recently Mrs. Stanton and her friend Miss Anthony have been spending much
time in England, and those present at the Suffrage meeting held in St.
James' Hall in 1883, will not easily forget how the former came to the
rescue when mutiny in the camp itself caused an amendment to be proposed
which
threatened the peace of the meeting. But for the oil poured on the
troubled waters by a most opportune speech from this handsome,
venerable-looking
American lady, I doubt if order would have been restored. And yet in their
own country I have heard Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony described as the
"most pertinacious incendiaries, diligent forgers of all manner of
projectiles, from fireworks to thunderbolts, which they have hurled with
unexpected
explosion into the midst of all manner of educational, reformatory, and
religious conventions, sometimes to the pleasant surprise of the members,
but
more often to the bewilderment of numerous victims, and the gnashing of
angry men's teeth,"
Mrs. Stanton took me to one of the most perfect American homes I visited,
the head of which, the Hon. Gerrit Smith, was known and respected throughout the States for his efforts as an Abolitionist.
I spent a pleasant
Christmas in his hospitable house at Peterboro, once the refuge of the
fugitive slave,
where an equally hearty welcome awaited the red man in the days when that
part of the State of New York was peopled by Indians. In Gerrit Smith,
America lost one of her grandest citizens, for his life was one prolonged
tale of beneficence. He gave over 200,000 acres of land in farms of fifty
acres each to poor white and coloured men, and his immense wealth enabled
him to respond as his generosity dictated to all charitable appeals. I
shall
neither forget the happy month spent with his family, nor my perilous
journey from his house in a blinding January snow-storm, when a lecture
engagement compelled me, in spite of the severity of the weather, to leave
its hospitable shelter. If the reader cares to picture our descent to the Canstota
Station—Peterboro is 900 feet above it—let him imagine himself in some
elevated position, overlooking a wide expanse of country white with snow,
with the
thermometer twenty degrees below zero! Presently the sound of sleigh-bells
can be heard, then a moving mass of snow might be seen; the very horses
are covered with snow, and the people in the sleigh are crouching together
to shield each other as far as may be from the biting cold. You can not discover their rank, age, or sex, for they are all muffled up in hoods, from
which icicles are hanging. One unhappy man, however, is forced to keep a
leg out of
the sleigh, for the road is a sheet of ice, and he must be ready to
spring out at a moment's notice to hold the sleigh as it swings round, to
prevent it from
going over the precipices which have to be passed in this perilous
fashion. Every now and then the snow-drifts are so deep that the road
threatens to
become impassable. At last, after a drive of two hours, the depot is reached in
safety; and the sense of thankfulness, especially on the part of the
driver, who best
knew the dangers of the way, can be better imagined than described. The
sensations with which a snow-storm is regarded in America depend upon your
position and prospective enterprises. If you are travelling across a wild
prairie, no more terrible thing can befall you than a driving snow. Even
in the
train your fate is far from enviable; the locomotive is frosted over, the
windows of the cars are glazed with ice, the track is undistinguishable;
there
is nothing to guide the eye, you seem to be crossing fields, plunging into
forest at random, while the engine-bells are ringing wildly and shrieking
in a
peculiarly American fashion. You have a fair prospect of getting into a
snow-drift and remaining there for the night, and your chances of
fulfilling an
engagement are of the vaguest description. Just before this journey I
accompanied Mrs. Park Godwin [2] to the Art reception given in the studio
buildings in
New York, and saw Mr. Jervis MacEntee's famous picture of a locomotive
tearing wildly through a fearful snow-drift, its red light fiercely
glaring on a
signal-man standing to the right of it. After this experience I realize
the full force of the situation, and should like to have purchased that
painting, to give
friends at home some idea of winter travel in America. Word-painting is
quite inadequate to the task.
CHAPTER III.
The President at the White House—Washington etiquette—Caste in
America—Women Lobbyists—Women employed in the Civil Service—Verdict of
General
Spinner on the female clerks—Lady John Manners and the English notion of
their social position—Draughtswomen in English engineer
offices—Conversation with Senator Sumner on Republicanism and English
loyalty to Queen Victoria—Grace Greenwood.
RECEPTIONS at the White House, though considered equivalent to Her
Majesty's drawing-rooms, are widely different affairs.
I made my first appearance at one of the earliest General Grant held after
his election. Lady Thornton, who was to introduce me, being ill, kindly
placed me
in the care of Mrs. Fish, who conducted me through a densely packed mass
of people extending from the hall to the reception-room. Even in the great
Republic there are privileged ways and privileged people; and thanks to
the lady in question, the wife of the Secretary of State, I was soon in
the presence
of the President of the United States, Mrs. Grant, and their daughter
Nelly, who had, for more than two hours, been shaking hands with each
member of a
huge assemblage which can only be described as a crowd!
What would happen if Republican institutions involved the use of court
trains I can not imagine! For my own part, I must frankly confess I
greatly prefer being allowed to pay my respects to the head of the nation
at this hour of the day in an ordinary afternoon costume, to the
inflictions which have to be endured at the kindred ceremony at our
English Court. To begin with, never since extreme infancy had I worn
a low-necked, sleeveless dress till the day of my first presentation to
Her Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. I can not say I appreciated
driving in this condition on a bitter March morning, in broad daylight,
through a crowd of London roughs, or shivering, thanks to the unwonted
scantiness of my attire, in the Palace, while I waited for two hours in
the large drawing-room, surrounded by a crowd of splendidly dressed but
impatient ladies, for my turn to enter the presence-chamber. When
this goal is reached, your train, which has hitherto been held over your
arm to prevent its being torn off your back and trampled under the
ruthless feet of dowagers eager for admission into the august presence of
their sovereign, is seized by one page-in-waiting at the door and hastily
arranged by another; the Lord Chamberlain announces your name to the
Queen, you make your obeisance, bow to the other members of the Royal
Family, and back out, in a crab-like fashion, as best you can, with this
unusual encumbrance at your heels. Frantic efforts are needed to
secure your carriage, and home is reached with the pleasing consciousness
that the fatigue and exposure will probably ensure you a severe attack of
bronchitis. The Queen is rigidly severe in her regulations about low
dresses at such ceremonies, and has seldom been induced to relax the rule.
Her subjects must be brave enough to risk pulmonary affections or stay
away from drawing-rooms usually held during the bitter east winds or which
our early English springs are noted.
But the absence of court trains and feathers do not denote
that our American cousins are indifferent to personal adornment, or that
points of etiquette are disregarded in the great Republic. The
ordinary Congressman may be shabby in his invariable suit of black
broadcloth, but his wife and daughters are resplendent in Paris gowns, and
very marvels in the style of their hats and bonnets. Indeed the
magnificent dresses in which the ladies may be seen from the dawn of day
to its decline, and the diamonds which flash on all sides in rings, pins,
brooches and hair ornaments, surpass description.
And as to etiquette, Washington rules are as stringent as
those of monarchical circles in Europe; a session at the capital is
considered indispensable to the success of social fashionable life.
Grand entertainments are given, and the newspapers record these events in
a style worthy of the London Court Journal. Official circles
are often thrown into confusion by a question of "precedence." Great
trouble has been known at Washington during the last year, the fact that
both President and Vice-President are widowers having afforded a fruitful
source of contention among the leading ladies as to who has the best right
to precedence at the White House.
Perfect equality is of course an essential principle of a
Republic, and America is popularly supposed to be the happy land in which
class privileges and all distinctions not founded on moral and
intellectual worth are despised. I was accordingly surprised to find
that these little matters are by no means "more honoured in the breach
than the observance" in the States; and though I was often assailed about
our aristocratic institutions and peerage worship, I never went to a city
in which I did not hear remarks which implied the existence of its
equivalent. "Mrs. So-and-so,—oh, we don't visit her, she is not in
the best set," has met my ear continually, though perhaps Americans have
not yet rivalled the exclusiveness of the Oxonian, who excused himself for
not attempting to save a drowning man on the plea that he had "never been
introduced to him." Americans boast of their freedom from the
Britisher's recognition of different ranks and grades in society, but all
candid persons will acknowledge to a growing love of caste distinctions in
that country. Society there has its dividing lines, its high fences,
which separate individuals dwelling in the same city, as distinctly as
prejudice, blood, or education separate the aristocrat from the peasant in
the Old World. While the meagreness of mere "blue blood" is daily
becoming more apparent to the cultured Englishman, Columbia is casting her
eyes longingly in the direction of empty titles, and while despising
monarchical government, shows a keen appreciation of the trappings of
royalty. Even Mrs. Julia Ward Howe accuses her countrymen of being
too ready to "extend their hands, to welcome that which is least worthy in
the society of the Old World."
One curious feature about the Chamber of Representatives at
Washington is the free admission of ladies to an unscreened gallery.
If they wish to hear a debate, they are not shut up as at Westminster in a
kind of sheep pen, and carefully concealed behind a grating. As far
as I could judge, this courtesy produces no fatal effects upon American
legislators. The terrible results predicted in the event of the
removal of the wired-off cage from which alone English women can listen to
the wisdom which flows from the lips of British law-makers, have not
overtaken the representatives of the great Republic; and when I saw the
comfortable quarters assigned to feminine spectators at Washington, and
contrasted them with the barred cage in the House of Commons, I could not
help feeling that Britons were still too near akin to Turks in their
arrangements for lady auditors. But the world moves, and though,
like Edgar Poe's raven, English women "still are sitting" behind that
brass fretwork, I can not believe they will do so for "evermore."
People will some day feel ashamed of a custom approaching Eastern
barbarism.
Each member of Congress has his own desk and highly
ornamented spittoon, and it certainly struck me that some of them were far
more interested in their private correspondence and tobacco-chewing than
in the discussion before the House. We are taught in England that the true
American is equal to an eloquent extempore speech at a moment's notice,
and that he is taught to address " Mr. President " be fore lie is out of
swaddling clothes. Certainly a Congressman speaks with wonderful and
vehement gesticulation on the simplest question—such as an order to print
a report ; but though he may not stammer nor hesitate like an ordinary
Englishman, who, as a rule, does not shine at speech-making, it must be
confessed that there is not too much eloquence to be heard at Washington.
No speaker I listened to, perhaps, recalled the description given of the
bashful lover in "Zekle's Courtin'"—a satire really applied by a Boston
critic to an eminent English lecturer:
"He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t'other;
And on the one he felt the wurst
He couldn't have told you nuther";
|
but the unsatisfactory nature of the explanations of two members on that
occasion, who were frantically endeavouring to "set themselves right
before the country," irresistibly brought to my recollection the
description of the foundering of a Mississippi steamboat.
"She hove and sot and sot and hove
And high her rudder flung—
And every time she hove and sot
A wusser leak she sprung!"
|
They certainly did not get out of their difficulty as wittily as their
accomplished countrywoman Grace Greenwood, who was tackled by a Chicago
journalist for her anathema at the House when the Colorado State Admission
Bill was defeated. Not only did she deny having "invested in Denver
lots," and repudiate the possession of a single railroad share in the
territory, but she sarcastically added, "If my Chicago brother should
speak well of heaven, I would not suspect him of having treasures laid up
there!"
The representatives of the American people appear to fail as
signally to fulfil the expectations of exacting constituents as our
members in the Lower House, if an opinion can be based on conversations
heard in railway cars and hotel parlours, and the tone of the Press
generally. One speaker, alluding to the session which concluded in
March, 1882, bid a fierce adieu to "a recreant legislature"; another hoped
"a day of reckoning would overtake those departing with the spoils of
office"; while an editor, in a stringent article reviewing the closing
scenes of the Congress, boldly asserted that "if they were not more than
usually disgraceful, there were at least one or two speeches which proved
that some members were not any too sober in the early hours of Sunday
morning." The characteristic Yankee is apt to declare he can "beat
creation hollow" in most things, and in spite of the scenes enacted of
late years in our House of Commons, I do not feel inclined to dispute with
him if he cares to claim the palm for Congress, as far as turbulence and
disorder are concerned. Of course the night in question is not to be
taken as a fair specimen of the proceedings to be witnessed at the
capital. To begin with, night sittings are the exception, and not,
as with us, the rule, and perhaps this might account for the hilarity
which prevailed at the final meeting of this forty-seventh Congress, when
a portly gentleman, who made a peculiar windmill movement with a pair of
singularly long arms, greatly to the distress of those in his immediate
vicinity, remarked, that "too much whisky having been taken out of bond in
the House that night, he moved for a recess, in order that all might
cool."
I have heard trustworthy Americans say that nothing but a
high sense of personal honour will keep Congressman, as things now stand,
from taking a pecuniary interest in undertakings on which they are called
upon to legislate; and as at one time no member of a religious community
in Massachusetts undertook any perilous enterprise without a public
petition for guidance and security, it is possible that the story is true
of the minister who read from the pulpit the following remarkable and
suggestive announcement: "Our beloved brother Jonathan P. Davis being
about to go to Congress, his wife requests the prayers of the
congregation." This gives a point to the satire contributed by
Moncure Conway to Harper's Magazine of the conversation overheard
at a London play. After the hero's first theft, the man in front of
Mr. Conway remarked, "He's a fair candidate for Newgate Gaol"; his friend
replied, "If he went to America, he'd he a fair candidate for Congress."
I had been told that "the perilously pretty, persistent fair
lobbyist" was a characteristic feature of Washington life. I can not
say I became personally familiar with any one of this class, but I did
meet ladies, with just claims, working in the interests of husband,
brother, or children, who were brave enough, and endowed with sufficient
perseverance, in spite of every obstacle and discouragement, to obtain the
just recognition of their cause, after many a weary fight and
disheartening delay.
The employment of women in the Government offices was a very
interesting fact to me. I found them in the Treasury Department
employed as counters of fractional and other currency, copyists, clerks,
and messengers; in the War Office and Postal Department, as well as in the
Printing, Pension, and Patent Offices. In a private audience
accorded me by the President, he assured me of his anxiety to promote the
industrial interests of women, and their "better pay," but confessed he
was opposed to female suffrage.
In spite of the amendment to an Appropriation Act passed
years ago, directing that women should be paid the same as men when
engaged in the same work, and authorizing their appointment to the higher
men's grade, the law remains to this very hour a dead letter, and the
advocates of the franchise naturally declare that the ballot alone will
enable women to obtain equal wage for equal service. Ex-Secretary
Boutwell is said to have practically encouraged the promotion of women
more than any other Cabinet officer, having placed a lady in charge of a
division of Internal Revenue, and given her the same salary as other
chiefs of division.
In counting money and detecting counterfeit coin, it is
freely acknowledged that women are more rapid than men, and more accurate.
Their fingers fly like lightning among the bundles of bank-notes and
sheets of revenue stamps. General Spinner, in speaking of the
keenness of the lady clerks in the detection of forged paper and money,
once remarked, "A man has always a reason for a counterfeit, forty may be,
but he is wrong half the time. A woman never has a reason. She
says, 'It's counterfeit because it's counterfeit'; and she's always right,
though she couldn't tell why, if she were to be hung for it." I
suppose it is this quality in women which made the late John Sterling
accuse them of having "kangaroo minds," leaping from point to point with
unerring instinct, instead of arriving at the right conclusion by
reasonable argument.
There has been some controversy in England as to the class
from which the female clerks in Washington are drafted. Lady John
Manners stated in the Quarterly Review (January, 1882) that "they
were the widows and daughters of officers who had died in the service of
their country, or who had filled high places in the Civil Service."
This was contradicted, and a Glasgow newspaper went so far as to declare
that this was only true of those who could influence, "either by bribery,
or perhaps baser means, the official dispensers of favours." It is,
indeed, a well-known fact that the traffic in Government berths is brisk,
and has been the real cause of many a scandal. But from what I
gathered from information obtained at headquarters, the statement made by
Lady John Manners was perfectly correct. The New York Tribune
(April 15, 1883) also stated that "a book could be filled with the
pathetic histories of the women in the Civil Service. Many are
soldiers' widows." Undoubtedly there have been scandals; even
incompetent women have been elected, through political influence or
official favour, but this may be attributed to what I heard an American
describe as "the faultiest Civil Service in the world." The best
women throughout America are only asking for justice; they wish for
a rigid examination as a test of fitness, and promotion on the ground of
merit only. As Mr. Dorman B. Eaton has emphasized, in his able book
on the British Civil Service, it is far better for all concerned to have a
service based on merit than on politics.
It is to be hoped that the days of "back-stairs influence"
are over everywhere. For some time efforts were made in London to
keep exclusively for the educated daughters of what we term "people of
gentle birth" positions of a higher grade than those generally held by
ordinary clerks; but when Mr. Fawcett became Postmaster-General he threw
open to public competition this class of appointments. In Russia the
ladies employed in the telegraph offices are obliged to know four
languages. They are usually connected with leading official
families, and their social position remains unaffected by their
occupation. In England 4,353 women are in the Civil Service employ,
nearly 8 per cent. of the total number engaged. The salaries of the
chief clerks amount to £170 a year, but very few ladies in London, I
regret to say, receive £200, though the authorities speak highly of their
work, and admit that if they are less ambitious, they are more
conscientious than men.
Naturally, in olden times, caste distinctions and social
prejudices had far more weight than they have now. Even men of high
degree only reaped the fruits of industry in revenues, themselves
remaining an aristocracy—warlike, ecclesiastical, political, and
fashionable, according to their age and country. But a change has
come over the world. Civilization is no longer in the keeping of a
limited aristocracy; social power and personal culture are in other hands
than those which once held them; our gentlemen are no longer only to be
found in the ranks of a leisured aristocracy; our men of business are now
drawn from our best families, and English women of the same rank are
beginning to see that work is not only honourable in a man, but that
idleness is discreditable even in a woman.
The legacy of the past, however, still weighs heavily enough,
and those promoting the employment of women must keep before all entering
the labour market in any capacity the dignity of faithfully performed
service, and the necessity for special training to insure the best quality
of work. An aptitude for skilled work does not come by nature, as
Dogberry insisted reading and writing did. Even the characteristic
faculty for nursing, as Florence Nightingale points out, is useless
without special training. The heaven-born musician and painter
cherish and develop by hard work the latent power within them, and the
woman who wishes to make a success in any direction must do the same.
She can not step "ready-made" into any department of labour. With
the preparation needed, and invariably given to boys, girls have been able
to give complete satisfaction to those who have helped to open new paths
for them. A most successful departure in a novel direction at home
is the introduction of ladies as draughtswomen into engineering works and
architects' offices. Messrs. Clarke, Chapman, and Gurney, of
Gateshead, Northumberland, are so pleased with their tracings of
steam-winches, boilers, etc., that they are now introducing women into the
ordinary commercial part of their work. At Gorton Foundry,
Manchester, from which Messrs. Beyer and Peacock have for years sent
locomotives of unrivalled strength and beauty to every part of the world,
I found women employed in a quiet nook in the midst of that huge hive of
industry, where 2,000 men are employed, and fiery furnaces burn night and
day the whole year round, and the sound of the ringing anvil seldom
ceases. Messrs. Swan and Hunter, shipbuilders on the Tyne, have just
made arrangements for the introduction of ladies in their offices, and the
movement is spreading in all directions. Few dare to lead, but many
are ready to follow in the wake of such successes.
I spent some pleasant hours during my first visit to
Washington with the Hon. Charles Sumner—a genial, courtly gentleman, head
and shoulders above most of his fellows in intellectual grace and culture,
and one of the finest statesmen America has produced. His home was
full of choice books, paintings, and statues, and his conversations on
art, politics, or social reforms full of interest and instruction.
One day, at the close of a long discussion on Republicanism versus
Monarchy, while admitting the political corruption exposed by recent
disclosures in America, he maintained that "a true republic was the
fairest flower of civilization," and amused me by adding, that "when the
people of England are virtuous and advanced enough, a republic they will
have." It certainly will be a great day for England when the right
of every individual to use the power God has given, free from interested
interference, is recognized, and to that goal, though our progress may be
slow, we are steadily approaching. But the reforms most desired are
quite compatible, in the opinion of many of our advanced thinkers, with a
monarchical form of government. The constitutional sovereign, in a
country whose Parliamentary institutions are a reality, reigns, but
does not govern. She acts as the Ministers advise, and they
are responsible for all the proceedings of the Executive. Their
dismissal depends upon the will of the Parliament, and has to be accepted
whether the sovereign's view coincide with the step or no. The
position is indeed one of difficulty and delicacy, for while bound to have
opinions and convictions of her own, the Queen must sacrifice them, and
act as if indifferent to party and national questions. We have
certainly arrived at a period of history when two things are impossible—a
political meddler on the throne, or a dissolute king. Another George
IV. would mean revolution. If his successor had resembled him, it
would have gone hard with the crown of England. It is the glory of
Queen Victoria that she has restored to royalty its old prestige,
and once more surrounded it with the reverential affection which makes
obedience easy, patriotism hearty, and constitutional government strong
and stable. She has revived and given a new lease of life to those
sentiments of generous and devoted loyalty which had slumbered ever since
the early Stuart days, and which some had mourned over as altogether dead.
But we have outlived the king and queen clad in purple and gold, with
crowns, thrones, and sceptres. Photography has made the "everyday"
appearance of our royal family familiar to every cottager in the land.
We recognize our Queen in her widow's weeds, with her sons and daughters
in plain frocks and coats standing round her. The Princess of Wales
was best known by the picture that represented her babies climbing over
her shoulders, while her husband smoked his pipe like any other son of the
soil. Family histories have lately been freely given to the nation,
some containing glimpses of struggles "to make two ends meet" by devices
and economies which cause the royal duchess and the middle-class matron to
feel very near akin!
By some this has been considered a very daring experiment,
but I believe the hour has come when royalty can afford to show the
English people its inner life and be independent of tile tragedy airs and
graces which used to be thought indispensable to Court life.
Mrs. Lippincott, better known as "Grace Greenwood," with whom
I spent much time during this visit to Washington, has just published in
America a very interesting life of Queen Victoria. This lady holds a
very honourable place in journalism through her able contributions to the
New York Times and other papers. Her brilliant Western
sketches are instinct with buoyant life, for she is one of those rare
women who are lever old in spirit; words seem to bound off rather than
flow from her pen, and while she has retained the brightness of youth, she
has now acquired the mellowness which comes of a varied experience and the
possession of rich stores of knowledge. It is said that her
acquaintance with the political history, principles, and tactics of the
two great opposing parties in her country and time is most remarkable, and
that she has always handled national questions in a thoroughly patriotic
spirit.
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