Eminent women of the age: being narratives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present generation.

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Page  ii 0 -F J? v 4 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by S. M. BETTS & CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Connecticut. Manufactured by CASE, LOCKWOOD & BRAINARD, H AT F OH 0, CONN. !, i t L i' I-. I:) 1

Page  iii LIST OF ENGRAVINGS. 1. ROSA BONHEER,........ 2. FLORENCE NIGIITINGALE,... 3. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY,.... 4. EUGENIE, EMRPRESS OF THE FRENCH, 5. MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI,.. 6. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 7. MRS. EIMA WILLARD,.... 8. MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON 9. LUCRETIA MOTT......... 10. VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND,. 11. ADELAIDE RISTORI,..... 12. ANNA E. DICKINSON...... 13. MRS. C. S. LOZIER, M. D.... 14. IHARRIET G. HOSMER,.... \ -; I I .. t PA'". IECE. ITLF,. 85 128 173 221 273 332 371 405 440 479 517 566 .......... .......... .......... ..........

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Page  v PREFACE. TFp, world is full of books that narrate the deeds and utter the praises of men. The lives of eminelnt men of our own time are made familiar to us in newspapers and magazines, in individual sketches and autobiographies, as well as in histories, dictionaries of biography, cyclopedias and other works of greater or less range of subject and extent of information. But, while many things have been written both by and for women, and much information has been publihled in one form and another in respect to eminent women of our age, there is not in existence, so far as the publishers are aware, any work, or series of works, which supplies the information contained in this volume, or preoccupies its field. And it appears to the publishers that there is a demand for this very work. The discussions of the present day in regard to the elevation of w.oman, her duties, and the position which she is fitted to occupy, seem to call fo(r some authentic and attractive record of the lives and achievements of those women of our time who have distinguishled themselves in their various occupations and conditions in life. The knowledge of what has been attempted and accomplished by eminent wom,nen of our time is fitted to make an impression for good upon the young women of our land, and upon the whole American public. It will tend to develop and strengthlen correct ideas respecting the influence of woman, and her share in the privileges and responsibilities of human life. In selecting the subjects for the sketches here presented, regard has been had not only to individual excellence or eI:i;ence, but also to a proper representation of the various professions in which women have distinguishled themselves. For obvious reasons, also, the selection has been confined chiefly to American women. 0 I

Page  vi PREFACE. In selecting the writers for the various sketches, the publishers have chosen those only whom they knew to be thoroughly qualified for the particular tasks assigned them, and so interested in the subjects of their sketches as to be prepared to do them full justice. Great attention has been given to the collection of materials which should be at once interesting and authentic. Variety and freshness of interest are secured by obtaining sketches from a large number of able writers, and by arranging their contributions so that no10 two consecutive chapters are the production of the same person. As it was impossible, on account of the lack of space, to give extended sketches of all who ought to be noticed in this volume, and in some cases, also, the requisite materials for such sketches could not be procured, briefer notices have been prepared of certain groups, which, it is believed, will be no unacceptable addition to the more elaborate chapters. This work aims to present in its literary department, as well as in its engravings, an attractive series of accurate and life-like pictures. As a literary production, containing the best essays and finest thoughts of many of the first writers of the day, it must be a source of profit and pleasure to every reader of critical taste. The eigravings, like the written sketches, are no creations of fancy, but trustworthy delineations of the features of tlihoe whom they profess to represent. The publishers have spared neither time nor expense, in the preparation of the present work, and they confidently believe that the importance of the field which it occupies, the ability and reputation of its writers, the freshness and reliableness of its facts, and the excellence of its engravings and typography, will justify the praises already bestowed upon its plan and execution by men and women of discernment, and insure to it a wide-spread and lasting popularity. HARTFORD, July 15, 1868. vi




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Page  11 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. BY JAMES PARTON. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE is one of the fortunate of the earth. Inheriting from nature a striking and beneficent talent, she was able to cultivate that talent in circumstances the most favorable that could be imagined, and, finally, to exercise it on the grandest scale in the sight of all mankind. I Whatever difficulties may have beset her path, they were placed in it not by untoward fortune; they existed in the nature of her work, or were inseparable fiom human life itself. She has had the happiness, also, of laboring in a purely disinterested spirit, and has been able to do for love what money could neither procure nor reward. The felicity of both her names, Florence and Nigh7tingale, has often been remarked; and it appears that she owes both of them to accident. Her father is William Edward Shore, an Enlglish gentleman of an ancient and wealthy Sheffield family, and her mother is a daughter of William Smith, who was for many years a member of Parliament, where he was particularly distinguised for his advocacy of the emancipation of the slaves in the British possessions. In 1815, her father inherited the estates of his grand-uncle, Peter Nig,hting,ale, on the condition expressed in his uncle's will, of his assuming the name of Nightingale. It so happened that she first saw 11

Page  12 12 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the light while the family were residing at the beautiful city of Florence, and to this fact she is indebted for her first name. The family consists of but four members, father, mother, and the two daughters, Palthenope and Florence. The- date of the birth of the younger sister, Florence, is variously given in the slight accounts which have been pubi lished of her life; but it was said in the public prints, at the time when her name was on every tongue, that she was born in the same year as Queen Victoria, which was 1819. Her father is a well-informed and intelligent manl, and it was under his guidance that she attained a considerable proficiency in the Latin language and in mathemnatics, as well as in the usual branches and accomplishments of female education. Early in life she was conversant with French, German, and Italian; she became also a respectable performer upon the piano; and she had that general acquaintance with science, and that interest in objects of art, which usually mark the intelligent mind. Even as a little girl she was observed to have a particular fondness for nursing the sick. She had the true nlurse's touch, and that ready sympathy with the afflicted which enables those who possess it to divine their wants before they are expressed. In Eng,land, as in most other densely peopled countries, poverty and disease abound on every side, in painful contrast to the elegance and abundance by which persons of the rank of Miss Nightin,gale are surrounded. One consequence of this is, that the daughters of affluence, unless they are remarkably devoid of good feeling, employ part of their leisure in visiting the cottages of the poor, and niinistering to the wants of the infirm and the sick. It was thus that Florence Ni,,ghtingale began her voluntary apprenticeship to the noble art of mitigating human anguish. Not content with paying the usual round of visits to the cottages near her faither's estate, and giving,, here a little soup, and

Page  13 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. there a flannel petticoat, and at another place a poor man's plaster, she seriously studied the art of nursing, visited hospitals in the neighborhliood, and read with the utmost eagerness whatever she could find in her father's library relating to the treatment of disease, and the management of asylums. This was no romantic fancy of her youth. Miss Ni,ghtingale is a truly intelligent and gifted woman,- as far as possible removed from the cast of character which is at once described andl stigmatized by the word romantic. She earnestly desired to know the best mannier of mitigating the sufferings of the sick, the wounded, and the infirm; and she studied this beautiful science as a man studies that which he truly and ardently wishes to understand. As it is the custom of wealthy families in England to spend part of every year in London, Miss Nightingale was enabled to extend the sphere of her observation to the numberless hospitals and asylums of that metropolis. These institutions are on the grandest scale, and were liberally endowed by the generosity of former ages; but at that time many of them abounded in abuses and defects of every description. Everywhere she saw the need of better nurses, women trained and educated to their work. Excellent surgeons were to be found in most of them; but in many instances the admirable skill of the surgeon was balked and frustrated by the blundclerin(g ignorance or the obstinate conceit of the nurse. Those who observed this elergant youing lady moving softly about the wards of the hospitals, little imagined, perhaps, that from her was to come the reform of those institutions. Miss Nighhtilgale may almost be said to have created the art of which she is the most illustrious teacher; but she was yet far from having perfected herself; many years were still to elapse before she was prepared to speak with the authority of a master. Mrs. Gamp still flourished for a while, although her days were numbered. 13

Page  14 14 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. It must not be supposed that this noble-minded lady denied herself the pleasures proper to her age, sex, and rank. She enjoyed society and the pleasures of society, both in the country and in town. Without being strictly beautiful, her face was singularly pleasing in its expression, and she had a slight, trim, and graceful figure. Her circle of friends and acquaintances was large, and among them she was always welcome; but, like. most properly constituted persons of our Saxon blood, the happiest spot to her on earth was her own home. The family connection of the Nightingales in Englalnd is num.erous, and she had friends enough for all the purposes of life among her ownl relations. About 1845, in company with her parents and sister, she made an extensive tour in Germany, France, and Italy, visiting everywhere the hospitals, infirmaries, and asylums, and watching closely the modes of treatment practised in them. The family continued their journey into Egypt, where they resided for a considerable time, and where the gifts of Miss Nightingale in nursing the sick were, for the first time, called into requisition beyond the circle of her own family and dependants. Several sick Arabs, it is said, were healed by her during this journey, which extended as far as the farthest cataracts of the Nile. Her tour was of eminent use to her in many ways. It increased her familiarity with the languages of Europe, and gave her a certain knowledge of the world and of men, as well as of her art, which she turned to such admirable account a few years later. Returning to Engl-.nd, she resumed her ordinary life as the dauTghter of a country gentleman; but not for a long time. Miss Nightingale, born into the Church of England, was then, and has ever since remained, a devoted memnber of it. In her religion, however, there is nlothing bigoted nor excessive; she is one of those who manifest it chiefly by chleerfilness, charity, and good-living; nor does her attachment to

Page  15 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. her own church blind her to the excellences of others. In her travels upon the continent of Europe, she had often met the Sisters of Charity, and members of other Catholic Orders, serving in the hospitals and asylums, and serving, too, with a fidelity, constancy, and skill, which excited in her the highest admiration and the profoundest respect. It was a favorite dream of her youth, that, perhaps, there might one day be among Protestants some kind of Order of Nurses, a band of women devoted, for a time, or for life, to the holy and arduous work of alleviating the anguish of the sick-bed. About the year 1848, she heard that there was something of the kind in Germany, under the charge of a benevolent lady and a venerable Lutheran pastor. She hastened to enter this school of nurses, and spent six months there, acquiring valuable details of her art. In the'hospital attached to it she served as one of the regular corps of nurses, among whomn she was greatly distinguished for her skill and thoroughness. Upon her return to England, an opportunity was speedily furnished her for exercising her improved skill. A very numerous class in England are family governesses. English people are not so well aware, as we are, how much better it is for children to go to a good school thaito pursue their education at home, even under the most skilful private teacher. Consequently, almost every family in liberal circumstances has a resident governess, an unhappy being, who suffers many of the inconveniences attached to the lot of a servant, without enjoying the solid advantages which ought to accompany servitude. Upon salaries of twenty or thirty pounds a year, many of these ladies are required to make a presentable appearance, and associate, upon a sort of equality, with persons possessing a hundred times their revenue. Unable to save anything for their declining, years, nothing can be conceived more pitiable than the situation of a friendless English governess whom age or infirmities have deprived 15

Page  16 16 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. of employment and of home. For the benefit of such, an asylum was established in London several years ago, which, however, had but a feeble life and limited means. Miss Nightingale, on her return from Germany, was informed that the institution was on the point of being given up, owing to its improper management and the slenderness of its endowment. Her aid was sought by the friends of the asylum. She accepted the laborious lost of its superintendent, and she left her beautiful abode in the country, and took up her residence in the establishment in London, to which she gave both her services and a large part of her income. For many months she was seldom seen at the entertainments, public and private, which she was formerly in the habit of enjoying; for she was in her place by the bedside of sick, infirm, or dying inmnates of the governesses' hospital. She restored order to its finances; she increased the number of its friends; she improved the arrangements of the interior; and when her health gave way under the excessive labors of her position, and she was compelled to retire to the country, she had the satisfaction of leaving the institution firmly established and well regulated. But the time was at hand when her talents were to be employed upon a grander scale, and when her country was to reap the full result of her study and observation. The war with Russia occurred. In February and March, 1854, shiploads of troops were leaving England for the seat of war, and the heart of Enland went with them. Iu all the melancholy history of warlike expeditions, there is no record of one which was manag(ed with such cruel inefficiency as this. Everything like foresight, the adaptation of means to ends, knowledge of the climate, knowledge of the human constitution, seemed utterly wanting, in those who had charge of sending these twenty-five thousand British troops to the shores of the Black Sea. The first rendezvous

Page  17 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. was at Malta, an island within easy reach of many of the most productive parts of two continents; but even there privation and trouble began. One reg,iment would find itself destitute of fuel, but overwhelmed with candles. In one part of the island there was a superfluity of meat, and no biscuit; while, elsewhere, there was an abundant supply of food for men, but none for horses. It afterwards appeared that no one had received anything like exact or timely information, either as to the number of troops expected to land upon the island, or as to the time when they would arrive. A curious example of the iron rigidity of routine in the British service was this: In the old wars it took eight weeks for a transport to sail from England to Malta; but although these troops were all conveyed in steamners, every steamer carried the old allowance of eight weeks' supply of medicines and wines. The chief physician of the force had been forty years in service, and the whole machinery of war worked stiffly from long inaction. When the troops reached Gallipoli, on the coast of the Sea of Marmora, their sufferings really began. No one had thought to provide interpreters; there were neither carts nor dratight animals; so that it frequently happened that a regiment would be on shore several days without having any meat. It does not appear to have occurred to any one that men could ever suffer from cold in a latitude so much more southern than that of England. The climate of that region is, in fact, very similar to that of New York or Philadelphia. There are the same intense heats in summer, the same occasional deep snows, excessive cold, and fierce, freezing rains of winter; -one of those climates which possess many of the inconveniences both of the torrid and the frigid zones, and demand a systematic provision against both. In the middle of April, at Gallipoli, the men began to suffer much from cold. Many of them had no beds, and not a soldier in the army 2 17

Page  18 18 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. had more than the one regulation blanket. Instead of undressing, to go to bed, they put on all the clothes they had, and wrapped themselves in anything they could find. There was a small supply of blankets, but there was no one at hand who was authorized to serve them out, and it was thought a wonderful degree of courage in a senior staff-surgeon when he actually took the responsibility of appropriating some of these blankets for the use of the sick in the temporary hospital. The very honesty of the English stood in their way. These French Zouaves," wrote Dr. Russell, the celebrated correspondent of the London Times, "are first-rate foragers. You may see them in all directions laden with eggs, meat, fish, vegetables (onions), and other good things, while our fellows can get nothing. Sometimes, our servant is sent out to cater for breakfast or dinner; he returns with the usual ' Ie and the Colonel's servant has been all over the town, and can get nothing but eggs and onions, sir;' and lo! round the corner appears a red-breeched( Zonave or Chasseur, a bottle of wine under his left arm, half a lamb under the other, and poultry, fish, and other luxuries dangling round him. I'm sure, I don't know how these French manages it, sir,' says ,the crestfallen Mercury, and retires to cook the egs." Some of the general officers, instead of directing their energies to remedying this state of things, appear to have been chiefly concerned in compelling men to shave every day, and to wear their leathern stocks on parade. One of the generals, it is said, hated hair on the heads and faces of soldiers with a kind of mania. " Where there is much hair," -said he, "there is dirt, and where there is dirt there will be disease;" forgetting that hair was placed upon the human head and face to protect it against winds and weather such as these soldiers were experiencing. It was not until tho army had been ten weeks in the field, and were exposed to the blazing heat of summer', that the Quecen's own guards

Page  19 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. were permitted to leave off those terrible stocks, and they celebrated the joyful event by three as thundering cheers as ever issued from the emancipated throats of men. After six months' service, the great boon was granted of permitting the men to wear a mustache, but not a beard. It was not until almost all order was lost and stamped out of silght in the mire and snow of the following winter, that the general in command allowed his troops to enjoy the protection of the full beard. Nor were the private habits of the nmen con ducive to the preservation of their health. Twenty soldiers of one regiment were in the guard-house on the same day for drunkenness, at Gallipoli. As late as the middle of April there was still a lamentable scarcity of everything required for the hospital. "There were no blankets for the sick," wrote Dr. Russell, " no beds, no mattresses, no medical comforts of any kind; and the invalid soldiers had to lie for several days on the bare boards, in a wooden house, with nothing but a single blanket as bed and covering." Every time the army moved it seemed to get into worse quarters, and to be more wanting in necessary supplies. the camp at Aladyn, where the army was posted at the end of June, was a melancholy example of this truth. The camp was ten miles from the sea, in the midst of a country utterly deserted, and the only communication between the camp and the post was furnished by heavy carts, drawn by )buffloes, at the rate of a mile and a half an hour; and by this kind of transportationl an army of twenty-five thousand men, and thirteen thousand horses, had to be fed. The scene can be imaginied, as well as the results upon the comfort and health of the troops. In July the cholera broke out, and carried off officers and men of both armies in considerable numbers. Jelly the 24tllh, it suddenly appeared in the camp of the light divisionl, and twenty men died in twenty-four hours. A siergeant attacked at seien, A. m., was dead at noon. What was, at once, 19

Page  20 20 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. remarkable and terrible in this disease, it was often quite painless. And yet, in the midst of all this horror and death, the soldiers of both armies exhibited a wonderfill recklessness. " You find thenm," wrote Dr. Russell, " lyin drunk in the kennels, or in the ditches by the roadsides, under the blazing rays of the sun, covered with swarms of flies. You see them in stupid sobriety, gravely paring the rind off cucumbers of portentous dimensions, and eating the deadly cylinders one after another, to the number of six or eight,all the while sitting ill groups, in the open streets; or, fiequently, three or four of them will make a happy l)argaii with a Greek, for a large basketful of apricots, water-melons, wooden pears, and green gages, and then they retire beneath the shades of a tree, where they divide and eat the luscious food till nought remains but a heap of peels, rind, anr( stones. They dilute the mass of fruit with peach brandy, and then straggle home, or go to sleep as best they can." Think of the military discipline which could compel the wearing, of stocks, forbid the growth of a beard, and permit such heedless suicide as this, of men appointed to maintain the honor of their country's flag on foreign soil! Howv incredible it would be, if we had not ab)undant proof of the fact, that, at this very time, a lieutenant-general issued an order directing cavalry officers to lay int a stock of yelloto ochre and oipe clay, for the use of the men in rubbing up their uniforms and accoutrements I On the 13th of September, 1854, twenty-seven thousand British troops were landed upon the shores of the Crimea, and marched six miles into the country. There was not so much as a tree for shelter on that bleak and destitute coast. The French troops who landed on the same day had small shelter tents with them; but in all the English host there was but one tent. Towards night the wind rose, and it began to rain. At midnight, the rain fell in torrents, and ..,... _......

Page  21 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. continued to do so all the rest of the night, penetrating the blankets and overcoats of the troops, and beatingl pitilessly down upon the aged generals, the young dandies, the steadygoing gentlemen, as well as upon the private soldiers of the English army, who slept in puddles, ditches, and vwatercourses, without fire, without grog, and without any certain prospect of breakfast. One general slept tinder a cart, and the Duke of Cambridge himself was no better accommodated. This was but the begiinning of misery. On the following day, signals were made on the admiral's ship for all the vessels of the great fleet to send their sick men on board the Kangaroo. Thoughtless order! In the course of the day, this vessel was surrounded by hundreds of boats filled with sick soldiers and sailors, and it was soon crowded to sufft)cation. Before night closed in, there were fifteen hundred sick on board of her, and the scene was so full of horror that the details were deemed unfit for publication. The desi,gn was that these sick men should be conveyed on the IKan,garoo to the neighborhood of Constantinople, to be placed in hospital. But when she had been orammed with her miserable freight, she was ascertained to be uiseaworthy, and all the fifteen hundred had to be transferred to other vessels. Many deaths occurred during the process of removal. On the same day men were dying on the beach, and did actually die, without any medical assistance whatever. WVhen the hospital was about to be established at Balaklava, some days after, sick men were sent thither before the slightest preparation for them had beenl made, and many of them remained in the open street for several hours in the rain. Winter came on, - such a winter as we are accustomed to in and near the city of New York. It began with that terrible hurricane, which many doubtless remember reading of at the time. The whole army were still living in tents. lo adequate preparation had been made, of any kind, for 21

Page  22 22 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. protecting the troops against such snows, and cold, and rain, as they were certain to experience. This hurricaue broke upon the camp early in the morning of November the fourteenth, an hour before daylight, the wind bringing with it torrents of rain. The air was filled with blankets, coats, hats, jackets, quilts, bedclothes, tents, and even with tables and chairs. Wtagons and ambulances were overturned by the force of the wind. Almost every tent was laid prostrate. The cavalry horses, terrified at the noise, broke loose, and the whole country, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with galloping, horses. During the day the storm continued to rage, while not a fire could be lighted, nor any beginning made of repairing the damage. Towards night it began to snow, and a driving storm of snow and sleet tormented the army during the night. This storm proved more deadly on sea than on shore, and many a ship, stored with warm clothing, of which these troops were in perishing need, went to the bottom of the Black Sea. A few days after, Doctor Russell wrote: "It is now pouring rain,- the skies are black as ink,- the wind is howling over the staggering tents, -the trenches are turned into dykes,- in the tents the water is sometimes a foot deep,our men have not either warm or water-proof clothing, - they are out for twelve hours at a time in the trenches, - they are plunged into the inevitable miseries of a winter campaign, - and not a soul seems to care for their comfort, or even for their lives. These are hard truths, but the people of En,gland must hear them. They must know that the wretched beggar, who wanders about the streets of London in the rain, leads the life of a prince compared with the British soldiers who are fighting out here for their country, and who, we are complacently assured by the home authorities, are the best appointed army in Europe. They are well fed, indeed, but they have no shelter, no rest, and no defence

Page  23 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. ag,ainst the weather. The tents, so lolng exposed to the blaze of a Bulgarian sun, and now continually drenched by tor'rents of rain, let the wet through'like sieves,' and are perfectly useless as protections against the weather." Never was there such mismanagcemcnt. While the army were in this condition they suddenly found themselves reduced to a short allowance of food, and for nine days there was no tea or coffee. The reason was, that the country roads, by which the provisions were brought from the seaside, seven miles distant, had become almost impassable. Every one could have foreseen that this would be the case during, the rainy season. Every one could also see that the whole country was covered with small stones, just fit for making, good roads; but nothing was done, and, for many miserable weeks, it was all that the commissary officers could do to keep the army alive. As for the port itself, - Balaklava,it was such a scene of filth and horror as the earth has seldom exhibited. Indeed, it was said, at the time, that all the pictures ever drawn of plague and pestilence, whether in works of fact or of fiction, fell far short of the scenes of disease and death which abounded in this place. In the hospitals the dead lay side by side with the living, and both were objects appalling to look upon. There was not the least attention paid to cleanliness or decency, and men died witlmut the least effort being made to save or help them. "There they lie," records a writer, "just as they were let gently down on the ground by their comrades, who brought them on their backs from the camp with the greatest tenderness, but who are not allowed to remain with them. The sick appear to be tended by the sick, and the dying by the dying." The four-footed creatures suffered not less than their masters. "Two hundred of your horses have died," said a Turk one morning to a British officer. "Behold! what I have said is the truth;" and, as he said these words, he 23

Page  24 24 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE emptied a sack upon the floor, and there were four hundred horses' ears heaped up before the eyes of the wondering officer. Ill Janualy deep snows came to aggravate all this ulisery. At one time there were three feet of snow upon the grounid. On the 8th of January, 1855, one regiment could only muster seven men fit for duty; another had thirty; a freshly landed company was reduced from fifty-six to fourteen in a few days; and a regimenlt of Guards, which had had in all fifteen hundred and sixty-two men, could muster but two hundred and ten. What wonder! On that same ei,ghth day of January some of Queen Victoria's own IHousehold Guards were walking about in the snow, and going into action at night, without soles to their shoes! Many men were frozen stiff in their tents; and as late as January the 19th, when there were drifts of snow six feet deep, sick men were lying in wet tents with only one blanket! No one, therefore, will be surprised at the statement that on the 10th of February, out of a total of 44,948 British troops, 18,177 were in hospital. The word hospital, when used ill reference to the Crimean war, only conjures up scenes of horror. Two scenes, selected from many such, will stiffice to convey to the reader a vivid idea of the hospitals of the Crimea before an Angel went from England to reform them. Janutary the 25th the surgeon of a ship, appointed to convey the sick to the general hospital at Scutari, went on shore at Balaklava and applied to an officer in charge of stores for two or three stoves to put on board his ship to warm the sick and dying troops. Three of my men," said he, "died last night from choleraic symptoms brought on by the extreme cold of the ship, and I fear more will follow them from the same cause." " Oh," said the storekeeper, "you must make your requisition in due form, send it up to head-quarters, and get it signed prop

Page  25 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. erly, and returned, and then I will let you have the stovfs." 'But my men may die meantime." "I can't help that; I must have the requisition." "It is my firm belief that there are men now in a dangerous state whom another night will certainly kill." "I really can do nothing; I must have a requisition properly signed before I can give one of those stoves away." "For God's sake, then, lend me some; I'll be responsible for their safety." "I really can do nothing of the kind." "But, consider, this requisition will take time to be filled up and signed, and meantime these poor fellows will - go." "I cannot help that." "I'll be responsil)le for any thing you do." "Oh, no, that can't be done." " Will a requisition signed by the post medical officer of this place be of any use?" No." " Will it answer if he takes on himself the responsibility?" "Certainly not." The surgeon went off in sorrow and disgust, knowing well that brave men were doomed to death by the obstinacy of this kleeper of her ~ lI,tjesty's stores. Another fact: In the middle of this terrible winter there was a period of three weeks when the hospitals nearest the main body of the army were totally destitute of medi cines for the three most frequent diseases of an army in win ter quarters; namely, fever, rheumatism, and diarrhea. The most agonizing, circumstance was, that the government had provided everythiing in superabundance. But one hospital would have a prodigious superfluity of fuel, and no mattresses. Another would have tons of pork, and no rice. Another would have plenty of the materials for making soup, but no vessels to make it in. Here, there would be an abundance of coffee, but no means of roasting it; and, there, a hundred chests of tea, and not a pound of sugar to put in it. Again, there would be a house filll of some needed article, and no officer within miles who had authority to serve it out. The surgeons did their best; but what could the few surgeons of 25

Page  26 26 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. fift.3regiments do with twenty thousand sick men? As for nurses, there was hardly a creature worthy of the name in the Crimea. In view of such facts as these no one can be surprised that the great hospitals at Scutari were in such a condition, that, probably, they were the direct means of kill ing tell men for every one whom they saved from death. It had perhaps been better if the poor fellows had been wrapped in blankets and laid upon a sheet of India-rubbl)er on the Snow in the open air, fed now and then, and left to take their chance. England heard of all this with amazement and consterna tion. It was the "Times" newspaper through which it learned the details, and people began spontaneously to send sums of money to the editqr of that journal for the relief of the soldiers. The proprietors of the "Times" consented, at length, to receive and appropriate money for this object, and in thirteen days the sum of fifteen thousand pounds sterling was sent in. With this money thousands of shirts, sheets, stockings, overcoats, flannels, and tons of sugar, soap, arrow-root, and tea, and great quantities of wine and brandy, were purchased, and a commissioner was sent out to superintend their distribution. But the great horror was, the neglect of the sick in the hospitals, and a cry arose for a corps of skilful, educated nurses. There was but one woman in England fitted by character, position, and education, to head such a band. Sidney Herbert, a member of the British cabinet, was an old friend of Florence Nightingale's father. Mr. Herbert was thus acquainted with the peculiar bent of Miss Nightingale's disposition, and the nature of her trainring. By a curious coincideuce, and yet not an unnatural one, she wrote to him offering her services, and he wrote to her asking her aid, on the same day. Other ladies of birth and fortune volunteered to accompany her, to whomn were added some superior professional

Page  27 FLORENCE NIGHTIiGALE. nurses. October the 24th, 1854, Florence Nightingale, accompanied by a clerical firiend and his wife, and by a corps of thirty-seven nurses, left England for the Crimea, followed by the benedictions of millions of their countrymen. They travelled through France to MIarseilles. On their journey the ladies were treated with more than the usual politeness of Frenchmen; the inn-keepers and even the servants would not take payment for their accommodation, and all ranks of people appeared to be in most cordial sympathy with their mission. Among, other compliments paid M1iss Nightingale by the press, one of the newspapers informed the public that her dress was charming, and that she was almost as graceful as the ladies of Paris. From Marseilles they were conveyed in a steamer to Scutari, where the principal hospitals were placed, which they reached on the 5th of November. In all the town, crowded with misery in every form, there were but five unoccupied rooms, which had been reserved for wounded otffitcers of high rank; these were assigned to the nurses, and they at once entered upon the performance of their duty. They came none too soon. In a few hours wounded men in great numbers began to be brought in from the action of Balaklava, and, ere long,, thousands more arrived from the bloody field of Inkermaun. Fortunately, the "Times" commissioner was present to supply Miss NightingDale's first demands. Some days elapsed, however, before men ceased to die for want of stores, which had been supplied, which were present in the town, but which could not be obtained at the place and moment required. One of the nurses reported that, during the first night of her attendance, eleven men died before her eyes, whom a little wine or arrow-root would almost certainly have saved. Miss Nightingale at once comprehended that it was no time to stand upon trifles. On the second day after her arrival 27

Page  28 28 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. six hundred wounded men were brought in, and the number increased until there were three thousand patients under her immediate charge. Miss Nightingale, one of the gentlest and tenderest of women, surveyed the scene of confilsion and ('an guish with unruffled mind, and issued her orders with the calmness that comes of certain knowledge of what is best to be done. If red tape interposed, she quietly cut it. If there was no one near who was authorized to unlock a storehouse, she took a few Turks with her, and stood by while they broke it open. During the first week her labors were arduous be yond what would have been thought possible for any one; she was klnown to stand for twenty hours directing the labors of men and women. Yet, however fatigued she might be, her manner was always serene, and she had a smile or a compassionate word for the suffering as she passed them by. As soon as the first needs of the men were supplied, she established a washing-house, which she found time herself to superintend. Before that was done, there had been a washing contract in existence, the conditions of which were so totally neglected by the contractor, that the linen of the whole hospital was foul and rotten. She established a kitchen, which she also managed to inspect, in which hundreds of gallons of beef-tea, and other liquid food, were prepared every day. She knew precisely how all these things should be done; she was acquainted with the best apparatus for doing them; and she was thus enabled, out of the rough material around her,-that is to say, out of boards, camp-kettles, camp-stores, and blundering Turks, - to create laundries and kitchens, which answered the purpose well, until better could be provided. She also well understood the art of husbanding skilful labor. When a few nurses could be spared from the wards of the hospital, she set them to preparing padding for amputated limbs, an(l other surgical appliances; so that when a thousand wounded suddenly arrived from the battle-field,

Page  29 FLORENCE NIGIITINGALE. men no longer perished for the want of some trifling buit indispensable article, which foresight could have provided. The "Times" commissioner wrote: "She is a ministerimg angel in these hospitals; and, as her slender form glidcs quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow's face softens with gratitude at the sight of her. When all the medical officers have retired for the night, and silence and darlikness have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her solitary rounds." What a picture is this! The same writer continues: "The popular instinct was not mistaken which, when she set out fiom England on her mission of mercy, hailed her as a heroine. I trust that she may not earn her title to a higher though sadder appellation. No one who has observed her fragile fitgure and delicate health can avoid misgivings lest these should fail. With the heart of a true woman, and the manners of a lady, accomplished and refined beyond most of her sex, she combines a surprising calmness of judgment, and promptitudc, and decision of character." Incredible as it now seems, the arrival of these ladies was far from being welcomed either by the medical or military officers, and it required all the firmness and tact of a Florence Nightingale to overcome the obstacles which were placed or left in her way. Several weeks passed before the hospital authorities cordially co-operated with her. Still more inceredible is it, that some cruel bigots in England severely criticised her conduct in accepting the services of some of the Sisters of Charity from Dublin. There was much discussion as to whether she was herself a Catholic or a Protestant; which led a witty clergyman to remark:" She belongs to a sect which unfortunately is a very rare one, - the sect of the Good Samaritans." One of the chaplains who labored with her, added, 29

Page  30 30 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. with reference to another charg,e equally heartless and absurd: If there is any blame in looking for a Romnan Catholic priest to attend a dying, Catholic, - let me share it with her, for I did it again and again." The same excellent and liberal-minded chaplain, the Rev. S. G. Osborne, in his work on the Hospitals of Scutari, describes, ill the most interesting manner, the appearance and demeanor of Miss Nightingale. " In appearance," he says, e she is just what you would expect in any other well-bred woman who may have seen, perhaps, rather more than thirty years of life; her manner and countenance are prepossessing, and this without the possession of positive beauty; it is.t face not easily forgotten, pleasing in its smile, with an eye betoklenilng great self-possession, and giving, when she pleases, a quiet look of firm determination to every feature. fIecr general demeanor is quiet and rather reserved; still, I am much mistaken if she is not gifted with a very lively sense of the ridiculous. In conversation, she speaks on matters of business with a grave earnestness one would not expect from her appearance. She has evidently a mind disciplined to restrain, under the pressure of the action of the moment, every feeling which would interfere with it. She has trained herself to command, and learned the value of conciliation towards others and constraint over herself. I can conceive her to be a strict disciplinarian; she throws herself into a work as its head,- as such she knows well how much success must depend upon literal obedience to her every order. She seems to understand business thoroughly. Icr nierve is wonderful! I have been with her at very severe operations: she was more than equal to the trial. She has an utter disregardcl of contagion. I have known her spend hours over men dying of cholera or fever. The more awfil to every sense any plarticular case, especially if it was that of a dyilg man, her slight form would be seen bending over him, administer

Page  31 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. ing to his ease in every way in her power, and seldom quitting his side till death released him." What wonder that the troops idolized her! One of the soldiers said: "She would speak to one and to another, and nod and smile to as many more; but she couldn't do it to all, you know; we lay there by hundreds; but we could kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on the pillow again content." Another soldier said: "Before she came, there was such cussin' and swearin'; and after that it was as holy as a church." All through that winter she toiled at her post, and all through the spring until the middle of May. Then she was taken down with the camp fever, and for four or five days her condition excited much alarm. She passed the crisis, however, and the whole army was soon rejoiced by hearing that she was convalescent. In her little book, publ)ished since her return home, upon nursing, there are but two allusions to her services in the Crimea. One is, that she had seen death in more forms than any other woman in Europe. The other is a touching reference to this convalescence. Speaking of the delight which the sick take in flowers, she says "I have seen in fevers (and felt when I was a fever patient myself) the most acute suffering produced, from the patient (in a huit) not being able to see out of window, asd the knots in the wood being the only view. I shall never forget iho rapture of fever patients over a bunch of bri,ght-colored flowers. I remember (in my own case) a nlosegay of wild flowers beiru, sent me, and from that moment recovery ble coming more rapid." By this time, excursionists and yachtsmen bergau to arrive at the Crimea, one of whom lent her a yacht, the use of which much aided her recovery. WVhen she first sailed in it, she had to be carried to the vessel in the arms of men. She remained in the Crimea a year anld ten months, and 31

Page  32 32 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. reached home again in safety, but an invalid for life, on the 8th of September, 1856. All England felt that sonmething must be dlone to markl the national gratitude, and perpetuate the memory of it forever. Fifty thousand pounds were raised, almost without an effort, and it was concluded at leng,th, to employ this fund in enabling Miss Nightingd.lc to establish an institution for the training of nurses. She sanetioned and accepted this trLust, and has been chiefly eml)loyed ever since in labors connected with it. The Sultan of Turkey sent her a magnificent bracelet. The Queen of England gave her a cross beautifully formed, and blazing with gems. The queen invited her also to visit her iii her retreat at Balmoral, and Miss Nightingale spent some days there, receiving the homage of the royal fiamily. Not the least service which this noble lady has rendered the suffering sons of men has been the publication of the work just referred to, entitled "Notes on Nursing; what it is, and what it is not,"- one of the very few little books of which it can be truly said that a copy ought to be ill every house. In this work she gives the world, in a lively, vigorous manner, the substance of all that knowledge of nlursing,, which she has so laboriously acquired. I1er directions are admirably simple, and still more admirably wise. "The chief duty of a nurse," she says, "is simply this: to keep the air wvhich the patient breathes as pure as the external air, but withozt chilling him." This, she insists, is the main point, and is so important that if you attend properly to that you may leave almost all the rest to nature. She dwells most forcibly upon the absolute necessity, and wonderfully curative power, of perfect cleanliness and bri,ght light. I1er little chapter upon Noise in the Sick Room, in which she shovs how necessary it is for a patient never to be startled, disturbed, or fidgeted, is most admirable and affecting. She seems to have entered into the very soul of sick people, and

Page  33 PLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. to have as lively a sense of how they feel, what they like, what gives them pain, what hinders or retards their recovery, as thoiugh she were herself the wretch whose case she is describing. If she had done nothing else in her life but produce this wise, kind, and pointed little work, she would deserve the gratitude of suffering man. The book, too, although remarkably free from direct allusions to herself, contains much biogrgphical material. We see the woman on every page, - the woman who takes nothing for granted, whom sophistry cannot deceive, who looks at things with her own honest eyes, reflects upon them with her own fearless mind, and speaks of them in good, downright, Nighltingale English. She ever returns to her grand, fundamental position, the curative power of firesh, pure air. Disease, she remarks, is not an evil, but a blessing; it is a reparative process,- an effort of nature to get rid of something hostile to life. That being the case, it is of the first importance to remove what she considers the chief cause of disease, -the inhaling of poisonous air. She laughs to scorn the impious cant, so often employed to console bereaved parents, that the death of children is a "mysterious dispensation of Providence." No such thing. Children perish, she tells us, because they are packed into unventilated school-rooms, and sleep at night in univentilated dormitories. "An extraordinary fallacy," she says, "is the dread of night air. What air can we breathe at night but night air? The choice is between pure night air from without and foul nig,ht air from within. Most people prefer the latter. An unaccountable choice! An open window, most nights in the year, can never hurt any one." Better, she rieiarkls, shut the windows all day than all night. She maintains, too, that the reason why people now-a-days, especially ladies, are less robust than they were formerly, is because they pass the 3 33

Page  34 34 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. greater part of their lives in breathing poison. Upon this point she expresses herself with great force: - "The houses of the grandmothers and great grandmothers of this generation (at least, the country houses), with front door and back door always standing, open, winter and summer, and a thorough draft always blowing through,-with all the scrubbing, and cleaningi, and polishing, and scou'lrig, which used to go on, -the grandmothers, and, still more, the great-granldmothers, always out of doors, and never with a bonnet on except to go to church; these things entirely account for a fact so often seen of a great-grandmother who was a tower of physical vigor, descendling into a grandmother, perhaps a little less vigorous, but still sound as a bell, and healthy to the core, into a mother languid and confined to her carriage and her house, and lastly into a daulghter sickly and confined to her bed. For, remember, even with a general decrease of mortality, you may often find a race thus degenerating, and still oftener a family. You may sec poor, little, feeble, washed-out rags, children of a noble stock, suffering, morally and phlysically, throughout their useless, degenerate lives; and yet people who are going, to marry and to bring more such into the world, will consult nothing but their own convenience as to where they are to live or how they are to live." On the subject of contagion she has decided and important opinions. "I was brought up," she says, " both by scientific men and ignorant women, distinctly to believe that small pox, for instance, was a thing of vwhich there was once a first specimen in the world, which went on propa,gating itself in a perpetual chain of descent, just as much as that there was a first dog, (or a first pair of dogs), and that small-pox would not bein itself any more than a new dog, would begin witlh out there having be(n a parent dog,. Since then, I have seen witlh my eyes, and smelt with my nose, srnall-pox growiny

Page  35 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. tip infivst! specimens, either in close rooms or in overcrowded war-s, where it could not by any possibility have been caught, but nmust have begun! Nay, more. I have seen diseases begin, grow up, and pass into one another. Now, dogs do not pass into cats. I have seen, for instance, with a little overcrowding, continued fever grow up; and, with a little more, typhoid fever; and, with a little more, typhus; and all in the same ward or hut. Would it not be far better, truer, and more practical, if we looked upon disease in this light?" Again," she says, addressing parents, "why must a child have measles? If you believed in and observed the laws for preserving the health of houses, which inculcate cleanliness, ventilation, whitewashing, and other means (and which, by the way, are laws) as imnplicitly as you believe in the popular opinion (for it is nothing more than an opinion) that your child must have children's epidemics, don't you think that, upon the whole, your child would be more likely to escape altogether?" Mliss Nighting,ale is an enemy of crinoline, the wearing of which she styles "an absurd and hideous custom." "The dress of women," she adds, "is daily more and more unfitting them for any mission or usefillness at all. It is equally unfitted for all poetic and all domestic purposes. A man is now a more handy and fair less objectionable being in a sickroom than a woman. Compelled by her dress, every woman now either shuffles or waddles; only a man can cross the floor of a sick-room without shaking it! What has become of woman's light step, - the firm, light, quick step we have been asking for?" She has a very pleasing and suggestive passage upon the kind of conversation which is most beneficial to the sick. "A sick person," she observes, "does so enjoy hearing good news; for instance, of a love and courtship while in progress 35

Page  36 36 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. to a good ending. If you tell him only when the marriage takes place, he loses half the pleasure, which, God knows, he has little enough of; and, ten to one, but you have told him of some love-making with a bad ending. A sick person also intensely enjoys hearing of any material good, any positive or practical success of the right. He has so much of books and fiction, of principles, and precepts, and theories! Do, instead of advising him with advice he has heard at least fifty times before, tell him of one benevolent act which has really succeeded practically; it is like a day's health to him. You have no idea what the craving of the sick, with undiminished power of thinking, but little power of doing, is to hear of good practical action, when they can no longer partake in it. Do observe these things with the sick. Do remember how their life is to them disappointed and incomplete. You see them lying there with miserable disappointments, from which they can have no escape but death, and you can't remember to tell them of what would give them so much pleasure, or at least an hour's variety. They don't want you to be lachrymose and whiniing with them; they like you to be fresh, and active, and interesting; but they cannot bear absence of mind; and they are so tired of the acldvice and preaching they receive from everybody, no matter whom it is, they see. There is no better society than babies and sick people for one another. Of course you must manage this so that neither shall suffer from it, which is perfectly possible. If you think the air of the sick-room bad for the baby, why it is bad for the invalid, too, and therefore you will of courso correct it for both. It fieshens up the sick personl's whole mental atmosphere to see'the baby.' And a very young child, if unspoiled, will generally adapt itself wonderfully to the ways of a sick person, if the time they spend together is .not,too long." These passages give us a more correct conception of the

Page  37 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. mind and character of Florence Nightingale than any narrative of her life which has yet been given to the public. There has been nothing of chance in her career. She gained her knowledge, as it is always gained, by faithful and laborious study, and she acquired skill in applying her knowledge by careful practice. There can be no doubt that the example of Miss Nightingale had much to do in calling forth the exertions of American women during our late war. As soon as we had wounded soldiers to heal, and military hospitals to serve, the patriotic and benevolent ladies of America thought of Florence Nightingale, and hastened to offer their assistance; and, doubtless, it was the magic of her name which assisted to open a way for them, and broke down the prejudices which might have proved insurmountable. When Florence Nig,hting,ale overcame the silent opposition of ancient surgeonls and obstinate old sergeants in the Crimea, she was also smoothing the path of American women on the banlks of the Potomac and the MAlississippi. Her name and example belong to the race which she has honored; but to us, whom she served in the crisis of our fate, and thus associated her name with the benevolent and heroic ladies of our land, she will ever be peculiarly dear. 37

Page  38 38 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. LYDIA MARIA CHILD. BY T. W. HIGGINSON. To those of us who are by twenty years or more the juniors of Mrs. Child, she presents herself rather as an object of love than of cool criticism, even if we have rarely met her face to face. In our earliest recollections she comes before us less as author or philanthropist than as some 1kindly and omnipresent aunt, beloved forever by the heart of childhood, -some one gifted with all lore, and furnished with unfathomable resources, - some one discoursing equal delight to all members of the household. In those days she seemed to supply a sufficient literature for any family through her own unaided pen. Thence came novels for the parlor, cookery-books for the kitchen, and the " Juvenile MIiscellainy" for the nursery. In later years the intellectual provision still continued. We learned, from her anti-slavery writings, where to find our duties; from her "Letters from New York," where to seek our purest pleasures; while her "Progress of Religious Ideas " introduced us to those profounder truths on which pleasures and duties alike rest. It is needless to debate whether she has done the greatest or most permanent work in any especial department of literature, she has done work so valuable in many. She has shown memorable independence in repeatedly leaving beaten paths to strike out for herself new literary directions, and has combined the authorship of more than thirty books and

Page  39 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. pamphlets with a singular devotion both to public and private philanthropies, and with almost too exactilig a faithfulness to the humblest domestic duties. Sero in cc7umn. May it be long before her full and final eulogy is written; but meauwhile it would be wrong, to attempt even a sketch of her career without letting sympathy and love retain a large share in the service. Lydia Maria Francis was born at Medford, Mass., February 11th, 1802. I1er ancestor, Richard Francis, came from England in 1636, and settled in Cambridge, where his tombstone may still be seen in the burial-ground. Her paternal grandfathlr, a weaver by trade, was in the Concord fi,ght, and is said to have killed five of the enemy. Her father, Convers Francis, was a baker, first in West Cambrildge, then in Medford, where he first introduced what are still called " MIedford crackers." He was a man of strong character and great industry. Though without much cultivation, he had uncommon love of reading; and his anti-slavery convictions were peculiarly zealous, and must have influenced his children's later career. IHe married Susannah Rand, of whom it is only recorded that "she had a simple, loving heart, and a spirit busy in doing good." They had six children, of whom Lydia Maria was the youngest, and Convers the next in age. Convers Francis was afterwards eminent among the most advanced thinkers and slcholars of the Unitarian body, at a time wlhel it probably surpassed all other American denominations in the intellectual culture of its clei'y. He had less ideality than his sister, less enthusiasm, and far less moral couragte; but he surpassed most of his profession in all these traits. tie was Theodore Parker's first learned friend, and directed his studies in preparation for the theological school. Long after, Alr. Parker used still to head certain pag,es of his journal, "Questions to ask Dr. Francis." The modest 39

Page  40 40 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "study" at Watertown was a fitvorite head-quarters of what were called " the transcendentalists " of those days. Emerson, iarg,aret Fuller, Ripley, and the rest came often thither, in the days when thle " Dial" was just emancipating American thlou,ght from old-world traditions. Afterwards, when Dr. Fra-icis was appointed to thle rather responsible and con servative post of professor in the Camblridcge Theological School, he still remained faithful to the spirit of those days, never repressing free inquiry, but always rejoicing to encourage it. Hle was a man of rare attatinmenits in a variety of directions, andt though his great reading ga.lve a desulltory habit to his mindil, and his thinkiing was not quite in proportion to his receptive power, lie still was a most vatluable instructor, as he was a most delightfil fi'iend. In fite andcl fi,gure he resembled the pictures of Martin Luther, and his habits and ways always seemed to me like those of some genial German professor. With the utmost friugality in other respects, he spent money almost profusely on books, and his library - part of which he bequeathed to IHarvard College -was to me the most attractive I have over seen, - more so than even Theodore Parker's. HIis sister had undoubtedlly the superior mind of the two; but he who influenced, others so much must have influenced her still more. "A dear good sister has she been to me; would that I had been half as good a brother to her!" This he wrote, in selfdepreciation, long after. While he was fitting for college, a process which took but one year, she was his favorite companion, though more than six years younger. They read tog,ether, and she was constantly bringing him Milton and Shakespeare to explain. He sometimes mystified her,- as brothers will, in dealing with maidens nine years old, -and once told her that "the raven down of darkness," which was made to smile, was but the fur of a black cat that sparkled when stroked; though it still perplexed her sm'tll b"ain.

Page  41 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. why fitr should be called dozwn. This bit of levity fi'oiii tlhe future Professor of Theology I find in the excellent s-etch of Dr. Francis, by Rev. John WYeiss, his successor,- a little book which gives a good impression of the atmosphere in which the brother and sister were reared. Their earliest teacher was a maiden lady, named Elizabeth Francis, - but not a relative, - and known universally as " Ia'am Betty." She is described as " a spinster of supernatural shyness, the never-forootten calamity of whose life was that Dr. Brooks once saw her drinking water from the nose of her tea-kettle." She kept school in her bedroom; it was never tidcly, and she chewed a great deal of tobacco; but the children were fond of her, and always carried her a Sunday dinner. Such simple kindnesses went forth often from that thrifty home. Mrs. Child once told me that always, on the night before Thanksgiving, all the humble friends of the household, - M'a'am Betty," the washerwoman, the berrywoman, the wood-sawyer, the journeymen-bakers, and so on,- some twenty or thirty in all, were summoned to a pre liminary entertainment. They there partook of an immenlse chicken-pie, pumpkin-pies (made in miilk-pans), and heaps of doughnuts. They feasted in the large old-fashioned kitch en, and went away loaded with crackers and bread by the father, and with pies by the mother, not forg,etting "turn overs" for their children. Such plain applications of the doctrine "It is more blessed to give than to receive" may have done more to mould the Lydia Maria Child of maturer years than all the faithfIul labors of good Dr. Osgood, to whom she and her brother used to repeat the Westminster Assembly's Catechism once a month. Apart from her brother's companionship the young girl had, as usual, a very unequal share of educational opportu nities; attending only the public schools, with one year at the private sem~uary of Miss Swan, in Medford. Her mother 41

Page  42 2 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. died ill 1814, after which the family removed for a time to the State c.f Iaine. Inl 1819, Convers Francis wa.s ordained over the First Parish in AVatertown, and there occurred in his study, in 1824, anl incident which was to determine the whole life of his sister. Dr. J. G. Palfrey had written in the "North American Review" for April, 1821, a review of the now forg,otten poem of "Yamoylden," in which he ably pointed out the use that might be made of early American history for the purposes of fictitious writing. ialiss Francis read this article, at her brother's house, one summer Sunday noon. Before attending the afternoon service, she wrote the first chapter of a novel. It was soon finished, and was published that year, -a thin volume of two hundred pages, without her name, under the title of IHobomok; a Tale of Early Times. By aln Americanl." In judgingi of this little book, it is to be rememl)ered that it appeared in the very dawnl of American literature. Irving had printed only his "Sketch Book " and "Bracebridge H ll; " Cooper only Precaution," The Spy," The Pioneers," and "The Pilot; " M1iss Sedgwick only "The New EngDland Tale," and possibly " Redwood." This new production was the hasty work of a young woman of twenty-two, inspired by these few examplnes. When one thinks how little an American author finds in the influences around him, even now, to chasten his style or keep him up to any high literary standard, it is plain how very little she could then have found. According,ly" I-Iobomokl "seems very crude in execution, very improbable in plot, and is redeemed only by a certain earnestness which carries the reader along, and by a sincere attempt after local coloring. It is an Indian "Enoch Arden," with important modifications, which unfortunately all tend away from probability. Instead of the original lover who heroically yields his place, it is to him that the place is given up. The hero of this self-sacrifice is an Indian, a mani of

Page  43 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. nigh and noble character, whose wife the heroine h.-d consellted to become, when almost stunned with the false tidings of hler lover's-deathl. The least artistic thing,s ill the book are these sudden nuptials, and the equally sudden resolution of Ilobomok to abandon his wife and child on the reappear ance of the original betrothed. As the first work whose scene was laid in Puritan days, "Hobomok" will always have a historic interest; but it must be read in very early youth to give it any other attraction. The success of this first effort was at any rate such as to encouriage the publication of a second tale ill tlhe following year. This was " The Rebels; or, Boston before the Revoltition. By the author of Ilobomok." It was a great advance on its predecessor, with more vigor, more variety, more picturesque grouping,, and more animation of style. The historica.l point was well chosen, and the series of public and private events well combined, with something, of that tendeney to the over-tragic which is common with young authors, -it is so much easier to kill off superfluous characters than to do ianything else with them. It compared not unfavorably withl Cooper's revolutionary novels, and had in one respect a remarkable success. It contained an imaginary sermon by 117hitefield and an imaginary speech by James Otis. Both of these were soon transplanted into "School Readers" and books of declamation, and the latter, at least, soon passed for a piece of genuine revolutionary eloquence. I remember learniing it by heart, under that impression, and was really astonished, on recently reading "The Rebels" for the first time, to discover that the high-sounding periods which I had always attributed to Otis were really to be found in a young lady's romance. This book has a motto from Bryant, and is "most respect fully inscribed" to George Ticknor. The closing paragraph states with some terseness the author's modest anxieties: 43

Page  44 EEMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "Mlany will conmplaini that I have dwelt too much on politi. cal scenes, familiar to every one who reads our history; and others, on the contrary, N~ill say that the character of the bookl is quite too tranquil for its title. I milght mention many doubts and fears still more important; but I prefer silently to trust this humble volume to that futurity which no one can foresee and every one can read." The fears must soon have seemed useless, for the young novelist soon became almost a fashionatble lion. She was an American Fainniy Barney, with rather reduced copies of Burlike and Johnson around her. t1cr personal qualities soon cemented. some frieniidships, whichl lasted her life long, cxcept where her later anlti-slavery action interfered. She openied a private school iin Watertown, which lasted firom 1825 to 1828. She established, in 1827, the "Juvenile MIiscellaniy," that delilghtful pioneer among childreni's m'tgazines in America; and it was continued for ei;ght. years. In October, 1828, she was married to David Lee Child, a lawyer of Boston. In those days it seemed to be held necessary for American women to work their passage into literature by first compiling a cookleir-book. They must be perfect in that preliminary requisite before they could proceed to advanced standing. It was not quite as in Marvell's satire oil HIollaid, " Invenit a shlovel and be a magistrate," but, Give us our dinner and then, ii you please, what is called the intellectual feast. Any career you choose, let it only beg,in from the kitchen. As Charlotte Hawes has since written, "First this steak and then thlat stake." So Mrs. Child lublished in 1829 her " Frugal Housewife," a book which proved so popular that in 1836 it had reached its twentieth edition, and in 1855 its thirty-third. The " Frugal IHousewife" now lies before me, after thirty years of abstinence from its appetizing pages. The words seem as familiar as when we childrelL used to study them be -i4

Page  45 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. side the kitchen fire, poring over them as if their very descriptions hadcl power to allay an unquenched appetite or prolong the delights of one satiated. There were the anlimals in the frontispiece, sternly divided by a dissectiing-knife of priniter's ink, into sections whose culinary names seemed as complicated as those of surgical science, - chump and sprilig, sirloini and sperib,- for I faithfully follow the originl spelling. There we read with profound acquliescence thalt "herd giingerbreadcl is good to have ill the family," but denamrred at the reason given, "it keeps so well." It never kept well in ours! There we all learned that one should be governed in cookery by higher considerations than mere worldly vanity, knowing that "many people buy the upper part of the sp.,reribl of pork, thlinking, it the most genteel; but the lower part is more sweet and juicy, and there is more mneat in proportion to the bone." Going beyond mere c.rnlal desires, we read also the wholesome directions " to those who are not ashamed of economy." WTe were informed that " children could early learn to take care of their own clothes," - a responsibility,It which we shuiddered; and also that it was a good thing for children to pick blacklberriies, -in which we heartily concurred. There, too, we were taught to pick up twine and paper, to write on the backs of t)ld letters, like paper-sparing Pope, and if we had a dollar a day, which seemed a wild supposition, to live on seventy-five cents. We all read, too, with interest, the hints on the polishilng of furniture and the education of daughters, ancld got our first glimpses of political economy from the PReasolns for Hard Times." So varied and comprehensive -was the good sense of the book that it surely would have seemed to our childish minds inflllilble, but for one fatal admnission, which throu,gh life I have recalled with dismay,the assertion, namely, that" economical people will seldom use preserves." "They are unhealthy, expensive, and useless to 45

Page  46 46 EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. those who are well." This was a sumptuary law, against which the soul of youth revolted. Really the line of asceticism must be drawn somewhere. If preserves were to be voted extravagant, economy had lost its charms; let us immediately become spendthrifts, and have a short life and a merry one. The wise counsels thus conveyed in this more-than-cookerybook may naturally have led the way to a " Mothler's Booki," of more direct exhortation. This was published in 1831, and had a great success, reaching, its eighth American edition ip 1845, besides twelve E1nglish editions and a German tranlslation. Probabl)ly it is now out of print, l)ut one may still find at the bookstores the " Girl's Own Bookl," published during, the samne year. This is a capital maullal of illdoor games, and is worth owning by ally one who has a houseful of chlildren, or is liable to serve as a Lord of Misrule at Christmas parties. It is illustrated with vignettes by that wayward child of genius, Francis Graeter, a German, whom MIrs. Child afterwards descril)ed in the "Letters from New York." Ile was a personal friend of hers, and his pencil is also traceal)le in some of her later books. Indeed the drollest games which he has delineated in the- " Girl's Own Book" are not so amusing as the unintentional comedy of his attempt at a " Ladies' Sewing Circle," which illustrates American life in the " H-istory of Woman." The fair laborers sit about a small round table, with a smirk of mistimrned levity on their fatecs, and one feels an irresistible impulse to insert in their very curly hair the twisted papers employed in the game of " Genteel lady, always genteel," in the " Girl's Own Book." The "History of Woman" appeared in 1832, as one of a series projected by Carter & HIendee, of whiclh Irs. Child was to l)e the editor, but which was interrupted at the fifth volume by the ftiilure of the publishers. She compiled for this the "Biographies of Good Wives," the "Memoirs" of

Page  47 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. Madame De Stael and Madame Roland, those of Lady Ruis sell and Madame Guion, and the two volumes of " Vorntan." All these aimed at a popular, not a profound, treatment. She was, perhaps, too good a compiler, shlowing in such work the traits of her brother's mind, and carefillly exclutding all thtose airy flights and bold speculations which afterwards seemed her favorite element. The " History of Wnomani," for inistance, was a mere assemblage of facts, be,giniing and endiing atl)ruptl3:, and with no glimpse of any leading thlou,ght or general philosophy. It was, however, the first American storehouse of information upon that whole question, and no dotl)t helped the agitation along,. Its author evidently looked with distrust, however, on that risiing movement for the equality of the sexes, of which Frances Wright was then the rather forirmlidable leader. The "Biographies of Good Wives" reached a fifthl edition in the course of time, as did the " History of Wroman." I have a vague, childish recollection of her next book, "The Coronal," published in 1833, which was of rather a filgitive description. The same year broug,ht her to one of those bold steps which made successive eras in her literary life, the publication of her "Appeal for that Class of Americans called Africans." The name was rather cumbrous, like all attempts to include an epigram in a title-page, -but the theme and the word Appeal " were enough. It was under the form of atll " Ap peal" that the colored man, Alexander Walker, had thrown a firebrand into Southern society which had been followed by Nat Turner's insurrection; and now a literary lady, amid the cultivated circles of Boston, dared also to "appeal." Only two years before (1831) Garrison had begun the "Libera tor," and only two years later (1835) he was destined to be dragged through Boston streects, with a rope round his neck, by "gentlemen of property and standing,," as the newspapers 47

Page  48 48 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE A(]E. said next day. It was just at the most dange rouls moment of the rising storm that Mrs. Child appealed. Miss Martineau in her article, "The Martyr Age in America,"- published in the "London and Westminster Review in 1839, and at once reprinted in America, -gives by far the most graphic picture yet drawn of that perilous time. She describes Mrs. Child as "a lady of whom society was exceedin,gly proud before she published her Appeal, and to whom society has been extremely contemptuous ever since." She adds: "Her works were boulght with avidity before, but fell into sudden oblivion as soon as she had done a greater deed than writing any of them." It is evident that this result was not unexpected, for the preface to the book explicitly recognizes the probable dissatisfaction of the public. She says: I am fully aware of the unpopularity of the task I have undertaken; but though I expect ridicule and censure, I cannot fear them. A few years hence, the opinion of the world will be a matter in which I have not even the most transient interest; but this book will be abroad on its mission of hlumanit long after the hand that wrote it is ming,ling with the dust. Should it be the means of advancing, even one single hour, the inevitable progress of truth and justice, I would not exchange the consciousness for all Rothschild's wealth, or Sir Walter's fame." These words have in them a genuine ring; and the book is really worthy of them. Ill looking over its pages, after the lapse of thirty years, it seems incredible that it should have drawn upon her such hostility. The tone is calm and strong, the treatment systematic, the points well put, the statements well guarded. The successive chapters treat of the history of slavelry, its comparative aspect ill different ages and la

Page  49 LYDIA MARIA CIIILD. tions, its influence on politics, the profitableness of emancipation, the evils of the colonization scheme, the intellect of negroes, their morals, the feeling against them, and the duties of tlhe community in their behalf. As it was the first anti-slavery work ever printed in America in book form, so I have always thought i thle ablest; thlat is, it covered the whole ground better than any other. I know that, on reading it for the first time, nearly teil years after its first appearance, it lhad more formative influence oIl my mind, in that direction, thal any other, altihough of course the eloquence of public llmeetiings was a more exciting stimulus. It never surprised me to hear that even Dr. Chlanning attributed a part of his own anti-slavery awakening to this admirable book. He took pailis to seek out its author immediately onl its appearance, and there is in his biographly an interesting account of tlhe meeting. His own work on slavery did not appear until 1835. Undaunted and perhaps stimulated by opposition, 3Irs. Child followed up her self-appointed task. During the next year she published the " Oasis," a sort of anti-slavery annual, the precursor of MIrs. Chlapman's "Liberty Bell," of later years. She also published, about this time, an "Anti-slavery Catechism," and a small book called "Authentic Anecdotes of American Slavery." These I have never seen, but find them advertised on the cover of a third pamphlet, which, with them, went to a second edition in 1839. "The Evils of Slavery and the Cure of Slavery; the first proved by the opinions of Southerners themselves, the last shown by historical evidence." This is a compact and sensible little work. While thus seemingly absorbed in reformatory work she still kept an outlet in the direction of pure literature, and was employed for several years on her "Phlilothea," which appeared in 1833. The scene of this novel was laid in ancient Greece. It appeared with her name on the title-page, was inscribed to her brother, and the copyright was taken out 4 49 I i I I t f II I i

Page  50 50 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. by Park Benjamin, a literary friend residingc, in New York. The preface to the book has so much the character of autobiography, that it must be inserted without abridgment. "This volume is purely romance; and most readers will consider it romance of the wildest kind. A few kindred spirits, prone to people space'with life and mystical predominance,' will perceive a light within the Grecian Temple. " For such I have written it. To minds of different mould, who may think an apology necessary for what they will deem so utterly useless, I have nothing better to offer than the simple fact that I found delight in doing it. "The work has been four or five years in its progress; for the practical tendencies of the age, and particularly of the country in which I lived, have so contimnually forced me into the actual, that my mind has seldom obtained freedom to rise into the ideal. "The hope of extended usefulness has hitherto induced a strong effort to throw myself into the spirit of the times; which is prone to neglect beautiful and fragrant flowers, unless their roots answer for vegetables, and their leaves for herbs. But there have been seasons when my soul felt restless in this bondag,e, - like the Pegasus, of German fable, chained to a plodding ox, and offered in the market; and as that rash steed when he caught a glimpse of the far blue sky, snapped the chain that bound him, spread his wings, and left the earth beneath him, - so I, for awhile, bid adieu to the substantial fields of utility, to float on the clouds of romance. "The state of mind produced by the alternation of thoughts, in their nature so opposite, was oddly pictured by the following, dream, which came before me in my sleep, with all the distinctness of reality, soon after I began to write this work. I dreamed that I arose early in the morning, and went into my garden, eager to svc if the crocus had yet ventured to

Page  51 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. peep above the ground. To my astonishment, that little spot, which, the day before, had worn the dreary aspect of winter, was now filled with flowers of every form and hue. With enthusiastic joy I clapped my hands, and called aloud to my husband to come and view the wonders of the garden. He came; and we passed from flower to flower, admiring their marvellous beauty. Then, with a sudden bound, I said, 'Now come and see the sunshine on the water!' We passed to the side of the house, where the full sea presented itself in all the radiance of the morning. And as we looked, lo, there appeared a multitude of boats with sails like the wings of butterflies, which now opened wide and reposed on the surface of the water; and now closed like the motions of weary insects in July; and ever as they moved, the gorgeous colors glittered in the sunshine. I exclaimed,'These must have come from fairy land!' As I spoke, suddenly we saw among the boats, a multitude of statues, that seemed to be endowed with life; some large and majestic, some of beautiful feminine proportions, and an almost infinite variety of lovely little cherubs. Some were diving, some floating, and some undulating on the surface of the sea; and ever as they rose up, the water-drops glittered like gems on the pure white marble. "We could find no words to express our rapture while gazing on a scene thus clothed with the beauty of other worlds. As we stood absorbed in the intensity of delight, I heard a noise behind me, and, turning round, saw an old woman with a checked apron, who made an awkward courtesy, and said,'Ma'am, I can't afford to let you hlve that brisket for eight pence a pound.' "When I related this dream to my husband, hle smiled and said,'The first part of it was dreamed by Philothea; the last, by the Fnirugal Housewife."' 51

Page  52 52 EMIINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE. I wfell remember the admiration with which this roratnce was hailed; and for me personally it wvas one of those deli,ghts of boyhood which the criticism of maturity cannot disturb. WThat mattered it if she brought Anaxagoras and Plato on the stage together, whereas in truth the one died about the year when the other was born? What mattered it if in her book the classic themes were treated in a romantic spirit? That is the fate of almost all such attempts; compare for instance the choruses of Swinburne's "Atalanta," which milght have been written onl the banks of the Rhine, and very likely wvere. But childhood never wishes to discriminate, only to combine; a period of life which likes to sugar its bread-and-butter prefers also to have its classic and romantic in one. " Philothea"was Mrs. Child's first attempt to return, with her anti-slavery cross still upon her, into the ranks of literature. Mrs. S. J. Hale, who, in her:'7oman's PRecord," reproves her sister writer for " wasting her soul's wealth" in this radicalism, and "doing incalculable injury to humanity," seems to take a stern satisfaction in tihe fact that "the bitter feelings engendered by the strife have prevented the merits of this remarkable book from being appreciated as they deserve." This was perhaps true; nevertheless it went throtugh three editions, and Mrs. Child, still keeping up the full circle of her labors, printed nothing but a rather short-lived " Family Nurse" (in 1837) before entering the anti-slavery arena again. In 1841, Mr. and Mrs. Child were engaged by the American Anti-slavery Society to edit the "Anti-slavery Standard," a weekly newspaper then and now published in New York. SMr. Child's health being impaired, his wife undertook the task alone, and conducted the newspaper in that mannier for two years, after which she aided her husband in the work, remaining there for eight years in all. She was very success 0

Page  53 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. fuil as an editor, her management being, brave and efficient, wh ile her cultivated taste made the " Standard" attractive to many who were not attracted by the plainer fare of the "Liberator." The good judgment shown in her poetical and literary selections was always acknowledged with especial gratitude by those who read the "Standard" at that time. During all this period she was a member of the family of the well-known Quaker philanthropist, Isaac T. iHopper, whose biographer she afterwards became. This must have been the most important and satisfactory time in Mrs. Child's whole life. She was placed where her sympathetic nature found abundant outlet, and plenty of co-operation. Dwelling in a home where disinterestedness and noble labor were as daily breath, she had great opportunities. There was no mere almsgiving there, no mere secretaryship of benevolent societies; but sin and sorrow must be brought home to the fireside and to the heart; the fugitive slave, the drunkard, the outcast woman, must be the chosen guest of the abode,- must be taken and held and loved into reformation or hope. Since the stern tragedy of city life began, it has seen no more efficient organization for relief, than when dear old Isaac Hopper and Mrs. Child took utp their abode beneath one roof in New York. For a time she did no regular work in the cause of permanent literature,-though she edited an anti-slavery Almanac in 1843,-but she found an opening for her best eloquence in writing letters to the "Boston Courier," then under the charge of Joseph T. Buckingham. This was the series of "Letters from New York" that afterwards became famous. They were the precursors of that modern school of newspaper correspondence, in which women have so large a share, and which has something of the charm of womenl's private letters, -a style of writing where description preponderates over argumennt, and statistics make way for fancy and enthusiasm. i 53

Page  54 5 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Many have since followed in this path, and perhaps MIrs. Child's letters would not now be hailed as they then were. Others may have equalled her, but she gave us a new sensation, and that epoch was perhaps the climax even of her purely literary career. Their tone also did much to promote the tendency, which was showing itself in those days, towards a fresh inquiry into the foundations of social science. The "Brook Farm" experiment was then at its height; and though she did not call herself an'"Associationist," yet she quoted Fourier and Swedenborg, and other authors who were thought to mean mischief; andl her highest rhapsodies about poetry and music wvere apt to end in some fervent appeal for some increase of harmony in daily life. She seemed always to be talking radicalism in a greenhouse; and there were many good people who held her all the more d,angerous for her perfumes. There were young men and maidens, also, who looked to her as a teacher, and were influenced for life, perhaps, by what she wrote. I knew, for instance, a young lawyer, just entering, on the practice of his profession under the most flattering, auspices, who withdrew from the courts forever, -wisely or unwisely, -because AMrs. Child's book had taught him to hate their contests and their injustice. It was not long after this that James Russell Lowell, in his Fable for Critics,"- that strange medley of true wit and feeling intermingled with sketches of celebrities that are forgotten, and of personal hostilities that ought to be, - gave himself up to one impulse of pure poetry in describing Mrs. Child. It is by so many degrees the most charming sketch ever made of her, that the best part of it must be inserted here. "There comes Philothea, her face all aglow, She has just been dividing some poor creature's woe,

Page  55 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. And can't tell which pleases her most, to relieve His want, or his story to hear and believe; "The pole, science tells us, the magnet controls, But she is a magnet to emigrant Poles, And folks with a mission that nobody knows Throng thickly about her, as bees round a rose; She can fill up the carets in such, make their scope Converge to some focus of rational hope, And with sympathies fresh as the morning, their gall Can transmute into honey,- but this is not all; Not only for these she has solace, oh, say, Vice's desperate nursling adrift in Broadway, Who clingest with all that is left of thee human To the last slender spar from the wreck of the woman, Hast thou not found one shore where those tired drooping feet Could reach firm mother earth, one full heart on whose beat The soothed head in silence reposing could hear The chimes of far childhood throb thick on the ear? Ah, there's many a beam from the fountain of day That to reach us unclouded, must pass on its way, Through the soul of a woman, and hers is wide ope To the influence of Heaven as the blue eyes of Hope; Yes, a great soul is hers, one that dares to go in To the prison, the slave-hut, the alleys of sin, And to bring into each, or to find there, some line Of the never completely out-trampled divine; If her heart at high floods swamps her brain now and then, 'Tis but richer for that when the tide ebbs again, As after old Nile has subsided, his plain Overflows with a second broad deluge of grain; What a wealth would it bring to the narrow and sour, Could they be as a Child but. for one little hour!" The two series of "Letters" appeared in 1843 and 1845, and went through seven or more editions. They were followed in 1846 by a collection of Tales, mostly reprinted, entitled "Fact and Fiction." The book was dedicated to "Anna Loriing, the child of my heart," and was a series of powerful and well-told narratives, some purely ideal, but mostly based upon the sins of great cities, especially those of man against woman. She might have sought more joyous 55 I

Page  56 56 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. themes, but none which at that time lay so near her heart. There was more sunshine in her next literary task, for, in 1852, she collected three small volumes of her stories from the " Juvenile Miscellany," and elsewhere, under the title of Flowers for Children." Ill 1853 she published her next book, entitled "Isaac T. Hopper; a True Life." This gave another new sensation to the public, for her books never seemed to repeat each other, and belonged to almost as many different departments as there were volumes. The critics complained that this memoir was a little fragmentary, a series of interesting stories without sufficient method or unity of conception. Perhaps it would have been hard to make it otherwise. Certainly, as the book stands, it seems like the department of "Benevolence" in the "Percy Anecdotes," and serves as an cncyclopwdia of daring and noble charities. Her next book was the most arduous intellectual labor of her life, and, as 6ften happens in such cases, the least p)rofitable in the way of money. The Progress of RPeligioiis Ideas through successive Ages "was published in three large volumes, in 1855. She had bergun it long before, in New York, with the aid of the Mercantile Library and the Commercial Library, then the best in the city. It was finished in Wayland, with the aid of her brother's store of books, and with his and Theodore Parker's counsel as to her course of reading. It seems, from the preface, that more than eight years elapsed between the planning and the printing, and for six years it was her main pursuit. For this great labor she had absolutely no pecuniary reward; the book paid its expenses and nothing more. It is now out of print, and not easy to obtain. This disappointment was no doubt due partly to the fact that the book set itself in decided opposition, unequivocal though gentle, to the prevailing religiou.i iiipressions of the

Page  57 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. community. It may have been, also, that it was too learned for a popular book, and too popular for a learned one. Learnin(,r, indeed, she distinctly disavowed. "If readers complain of want of profoundness, they may perchance be willitng to accept simplicity and clearness in exchange for depth." "Doubtless a learned person would have performed the task far better, in many respects; but, on some accounts, my want of learning is an advantage. Thou,ghts do not range so freely, when the store-room of the brain is overloaded with furniture." And she gives at the end, with her usual frankness, a list of works consulted, all being in English, except seven, which are ill French. It was a bold thing to base a history of religiots ideas on such books as Enifield's Philosophy and Taylor's Plato. The trouble was not so much that the learning was second-hand,- for such is mlost learning, -as that the authorities were second-rate. The stream could hardly go higher than its source; and a book based on such very inadequate researches could hardly be accepted, even when tried by that very accommodating standard, American scholarship. Apart from this, the plan and spirit of the work deserve much praise. It is perhaps the best attempt in our langu,gc to bring together in a popular form, or indeed in any form, the religious symbols and utterances of different ages, pointing, out their analogies and treating, all with respect. Recognizing all religions as expressions of ollne universal and einnobling instinct, it wvas impossible that she should not give dissatisfaction to many sincere minds; had it been possible to avoid this, she would have succeeded. Not only is there no irreverence, but the author is of almost too syimpathetic a nature to be called even a rationalist. The candor is perfect, and if she has apparently no prejLvdice in favor of the Christian religion, she has certainly what is rare amolng polemics who tend in her direction, —i rj l,nopr3, 57 I f

Page  58 58 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. against it. She takes pains- some readers would say exaggerated pains - to point out its superiority to all others. In 1857, Mrs. Child published a volume entitled "Autumnal Leaves; Tales and Sketches ill Prose and Rhyme." It might seem firom this title that she regarded her career of action as drawing to a close. If so, she was soon undeceived, and the attack of Captain John Brown upon Harper's Ferry aroused her, like many others, froe a dream of peace. Immediately on the arrest of Captain Brown she wrote him a brief letter, asking permission to go and nurse him, as he was wounded and among enemies, and as his wife was supposed to be beyond immediate reach. This letter she enclosed in one to Governor Wise. She then went home and packed her trunk, with her husbanld's full approval, but decided not to go until she heard from Captain Brown, not knowing what his precise wishes nmight be. She had heard that he had expressed a wish to have the aid of some lawyer not identified with the anti-slavery movement, and she thou,ght he was entitled to the same considerations of policy in regard to a nurse. Meantime Mrs. Brown was sent for, and promptly arrived; while Captain Brown wrote Mrs. Child one of his plain and characteristic letters, declining her offer, and asking her kind aid for his family, which was faithfully given. But with his letter came one from Governor Wise,courteous, but rather diplomatic,- and containing some reproof of her expressions of sympathy for the prisoner. To this she wrote an answer, well-worded, and quite effective, which, to her great surprise, soon appeared in the "New York Tribune." She wrote to the editor (Nov. 10, 1859): "I was much surprised to see my correspondence with Governor Wise published in your columns. As I have never given

Page  59 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. any person a copy, I presume you must have obtained it from Virginia." This correspondence soon led to another. Mrs. M. J. C. Mason, wrote from "Alto, King George's County, Virginia," a formidable demonstration, beginning thus: "Do you read your Bible, Mrs. Child? If you do, read there,'Woe unto you hypocrites,' and take to yourself, with twofold damnation, that terrible sentence; for, rest assured, in the day of judgment, it shall be more tolerable for those thus scathed by the awful denunciations of the Son of God than for you." This startling commencement - of which it must be calmly asserted that it comes very near swearing, for a lady - leads to something like bathos at the end, where Mrs. Mason adds in conclusion, "no Southerner ought, after your letters to Governor Wise, to read a line of your composition, or to touch a magazine which bears your name in its list of contributors." To begin with doubly-dyed future torments, and come gradually to the climax of "Stop my paper," admits of no other explanation than that Mrs. Mason had dabbled in literature herself, and knew how to pierce the soul of a sister in the trade. But the great excitement of that period, and the general loss of temper that prevailed, may plead a little in vindication of Mrs. Mason's vehemence, and must certainly enhance the dignity of Mrs. Child's reply. It is one of the best things she ever wrote. She refuses to dwell on the invectives of her assailant, and only "wishes her well, both in this world and the next." Nor will she even debate the specific case of John Brown, whose body was in charge of the courts, and his reputation sure to be in charge of posterity. " Men, however great they may be," she says, "are of small consequence in comparison with principles, and the principle for which John Brown died is the question at issueo between us." I 59

Page  60 60 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. She accordingly proceeds to discuss this question, first scripturally (following the lead of her assailant), then on gen eral principles; and gives one of her usual clear summaries of the whole argument. Now that the excitements of the hour have passed, the spirit of her whole statement must claim just praise. The series of letters was published in pamphlet form in 1860, and secured a wider circulation than anything she ever wrote, embracing some three hundred thousand copies. In return she received many private letters from the slave States, mostly anonymous, and often grossly insulting. Hlaving gained so good a hearing, she followed up her opportunity. During the same year she printed two small tracts, "The Patriarchal Institution," and "The Duty of Disobedience to the Fugitive Slave Lawv;" and then one of her most elaborate compilations, entitled The Right Way the Safe Way, proved by Emancipation in the British West Indies and elsewhere." This shows the same systematic and thorough habit of mind with its predecessors; and this business-like way of dealing with facts is hard to reconcile with the dreamy and almost uncontrolled idealism which she elsewhere shows. In action, too, she has usually shown the same practical thoroughness, and in case of this very book, forwarded copies at her own expense to fifteen hundred persons in the slave States. In 1864 she published "Looking towards Sunset,"-a very agreeable collection of prose and verse, by various authors, all bearing upon the aspects of old age. This was another of those new directions of literary activity with which she so often surprised her friends. The next year brought still another in the "Freedmen's Book,"- a collection of short tales and sketches suited to the mental condition of the Southern freedmen, and published for their benefit. It was sold for that purpose at cost (sixty cents), and a good many copies

Page  61 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. are still being distributed through teachers and missionaries. Her latest publication, and perhaps (if one might venture to guess) her favorite among the whole series, appeared in 1867, -"A Romance of the Republic." It was received with great cordiality, and is ill some respects her best fictitious work. The scenes are laid chiefly at the South, where she has given the local coloring in a way really remarkable for one who never visited that region,- while the results of slavery are painted with the thorough knowledge of one who had devoted a lifetime to their study. The leading characters are of that type which is now becoming rather common in fiction, because American society affords none whose situation is so dramatic, -young quadroons educated to a high grade of culture, and sold as slaves after all. All the scenes are handled in a broad spirit of humanity, and betray no trace of that subtle sentiment of caste which runs through and through some novels written ostensibly to oppose caste. The characterization is good, and the events interesting andl vigorously handled. The defect of the book is a common one,- too large a framework, too many vertebrae to the plot. Even the established climax of a wedding is a safer experiment than to prolong the history into the second generation, as here. The first two-thirds of the story would have been more effective without the conclusion. But it will always possess value as one of the few really able delineations of slavery in fiction, and the author may well look back with pride on this final offering at that altar of liberty where so much of her life had been already laid. I have now enumerated all of Mrs. Child's writings, so far as I can ascertain them,-some having been attributed to her which she did not write, - and have mentioned such of her public acts as are inseparable from her literary career. Beyond this it is not now right to go. It is now nearly twenty i 61 i

Page  62 62 EMINENT WOMEN OF, THE AGE. years since she left not only the busy world of New York, but almost the world of society, and took up her abode (after a short residence at West Newton), in the house bequeathed to her by her father, at Wayland, Massachusetts. In that quiet village she and her husband have peacefully dwelt, avoiding even friendship's intrusions. Into the privacy of that home I have no right to enter. Times of peace have no historians, and the later career of Mrs. Child has had few of what the world calls events. Her domestic labors, her studies, her flowers, and her few guests keep her ever busy. She has no children of her own,.- though, as some one has said, a great many of other people's, - but more than one whom she has befriended has dwelt with her since her retirement, and she comes forth sometimes to find new beneficiaries. But for many of her kindnesses she needs not to leave home, since they are given in the form least to be expected from a literary woman, - that of pecuniary bounty. If those who labor for the freedmen, in especial, were to testify, they could prove that few households in the country have contributed on a scale so very liberal, in proportion to their means. Dutiring the war this munificence was still farther enhanced in the direction of the soldiers. But it is not yet time for the left hand to know what these right hands have done, and I forbear. One published letter, however, may serve as a sample of many. It was addressed to the last Anti-slavery Festival at Boston, and not only shows the mode of action adopted by M r. and Mrs. Child, but their latest opinions as to public affairs: "WAYLAND, Jan. 1st, 1868. "DEAR FRIEND PHILLIPS:-We ellnclose $50 as our subscription to the Anti-slavery Society. If our means equalled our wishes, we would send a sum as large as the legacy FRANCIS JACKSON intended for that purpose, and of which the society I q

Page  63 LYDIA MARIA CIIILD. was deprived, as we think, by an unjust legal decision. If our sensible and judicious friend could speak to us from the other side of Jordan, we doubt not he would say that the vigilance of the Anti-slavery Society was never more needed than at the present crisis, and that, consequently, he was never more disposed to aid it liberally. " Of course the rancorous pride and prejudice of this country cannot be cured by any short process, not even by lessons so sternly impressive as those of our recent bloody conflict. There is cause for great thankfulness that'war Abolitionists' were driven to perform so important a part in the great programme of Providence; but their recognition of human brotherhood is rarely of a kind to be trusted in emergencies. In most cases, it is not'skin deep.' Those who were Abolitionists in the teeth of popular opposition are the only ones who really made the case of the colored people their own; therefore they are the ones least likely to be hoodwinvked by sophistry and false pretences now. " To us the present crisis of the country seems more dangreous than that of'61. The insidiousness of oppressors is always more to be dreaded than their open violence. There can be no reasonal)le doubt that a murderous feeling toward the colored people prevails extensively at the South; and we are far from feeling very sure that a large party could not be rallied at the North in favor of restoring slavery. WVe have no idea that it ever can be restored; but if we would avert the horrors of another war, more dreadful than the last, we must rouse up and keep awake a public sentiment that will compel politicians to do their duty. This we consider the appropriate and all-important work of the old Anti-slavery Society. " The British Anti-slavery Society deserted their post too soon. If they had been as watchful to protect the freed people of the West Indies as they were zealous to emanaciplate 63 I II

Page  64 64 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. them, that horrid catastrophe in Jamaica mi,ht hl've been avoided. The state of things in those islands warns us how dangerous it is to trust those who have been slaveholders, and those who habitually sympathize with slaveholders, to frame laws and regulations for liberated slaves. As well mi,ght wolves be trusted to guard a sheepfold. "WVe thank God, firiend Phillips, that you are preserved and strengthened to be a wakeful sentinel on the watch-tower, ever ready to warn a drowsy nation against selfish, timid politicians, and dawdling legislators, who manifest no trust either in God or the people. " Yours faithfully, DAVID L. CHILD, "L. MARIA CHIILD." This is all of Mrs. Child's biography that can now be written; and it is far more than her sensitive nature - shriuiking from publicity even when she brings it on herself - would approve. She is one of those prominent instances in our literature, of persons born for the pursuits of pure intellect, whose intellects were yet balanced by their hearts, and both absorbed in the great moral agitations of the age. "My natural incelinations," she once wrote to me, "drew me much more strongly towards literature and the arts than towards reform, and the weight of conscience was needed to turn the scale." She has doubtless gained in earnestness far more than she has lost in popularity, in wealth, or even in artistic culture; the first two losses count for little, and the last may not be due to her advocacy of reforms alone, but to the crude condition, as respects even literary art, which yet marks us all. In a community of artists, she would have belonged to that class, for she had that instinct in her soul. But she was placed where there was as yet no exactilng, literary standard; she wrote better than most of her contemporaries, and well

Page  65 LYDIA MARIA CHILD. enough for her public. She did not, therefore, win that intellectual immortality which only the very best writers command, and which few Americans have attained. But she v on a meed which she would value more highly, -that warmth of sympathy, that mingled gratitude of intellect and heart which men give to those who have faithfully served their day and generation. No rural retirement can hide her from the prayers of those who were ready to perish, when they first knew her; and the love of those whose lives she has enriched from childhood will follow her fading eyes as they look towards sunset, and, after her departing, will keep her memory green. 65

Page  66 66 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. SARA PAYsoN WILLIS, daughter of Nathaniel and Sara Willis, was born in Portland, Maine, in midsummer of the year of our Lord 1811. In that fine old town, in that fine old State, where as she says, "the timber and the human beings are sound," she spent the first six years of her life. During those years, our country passed through a troublous time, - a supplementary grapple with the old country,- final, let us hope, and eminently satisfactory in its results, to one party at least. But it is not probable that the shock and tumult of war seriously disturbed the little Sara, sphered apart from its encounters, sieges, conflagrations, and unnatural griefs, in the fairy realm of a happy childhood. Whether we made a covwardly surrender at Detroit, or incarnadined Lake Erie with British blood,- whether we conquered at Chippewa, or rehearsed Bull Run at Bladensburg, -whether our enemy burned the Capitol at Washington, or was soundly thrashed at New Orleans,- it was all the same to her. However the heart of the noble mother may have been pained by the tragedies, privations and mournings of that time, it brooded over the little baby-life in sheltering peace and love;- as the robin, when her nest rocks in the tempest, shields her unfledged darlings with jealous care. I have a theory, flanked by whole columns of biographical history, that no man or woman of genius was ever born ol

Page  67 asANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. an inferior, or common-place woman. The mother of Nathaniel, Richard, and Sara Willis was a large-brained, as well as great-hearted woman. The beautiful tributes of her poetson made all the world aware of her most lovable qualities -her faithful2 maternal tenderness and broad, sweet charity; but to these were added rare mental power and character of singular nobility and weight. From a private letter, addressed by the subject of this biographical sketch to a friend, in answer to some questions concerning this noble mother, I am permitted to take the following touching tribute: "All my brother's poetry, all the capability for writing which I possess - be it little, or muchcame from her. She had correspondence with many clergymen of the time and others, and, had she lived at this day, would have been a writer worthy of mention. In those days women had nine children -her number and stifled their souls under baskets of stockings to mend and aprons to make. She made every one who came near her better and happier for having seen her. She had a heart as wide as the world, and charity to match. Oh, the times I have thrown my arms wildly about me and sobbed'Mother!' till it seemed she must come! I shall never be'weaned,' never! She understood me. Even now, I want her, every day and hour. Blessed be eternity and immortality! That is what my mother was to me. God bless her!" In 1817 Mr. Willis removed to Boston, where he for many years edited the "Recorder," a religious journal, and "The Youth's Companion," a juvenile paper, of blessed memory. In Boston, Sara spent the remainder of her childhood; and a grand old town it is to be reared in, notwithstanding the east wind, its crooked, cow-path streets, and general promiscuousness,- notwithstanding, its exceeding self-satisfaction, its social frigidity, its critical narrowness and its contagious isms; among the most undesirable of which count conven. 67 N t

Page  68 68 EMINENT WOMEN GF THE AGE. tionalism and dclilettanteism; and it is an admirable town to emigrate from, because of these notwithstandiings. The stern Puritan traditions and social prejudices of the place seem not to have entered very strongly into the character of Sara Willis. She probably chased butterflies on Boston Common, or picked wild strawberries (if they grew there) on Bunker Hill, without much musing on the grand and heroic associations of those places. She doubtless tripped by Faneuil Hall occasionally, without doing honor to it, as the august cradle of liberty. She must have been an eminently happy and merry child; indulging in her own glad fatncies in the bright present, with little reverence for the past, or apprehension for the future, - much given to mischief and mad little pranks of fun and adventure. Sara was educated at Hartford, in the far-famed Seminary of Miss Catharine Beecher. At that time, Harriet Beeher, Mrs. Stowe, was a teacher in this school. She was amiable and endearing in her ways, and was recognized as a decidedly clever young, lady, with a vein of quiet humor, a sleepy sort of wit, that woke utip and flashed out when least expected; but of a careless, unpraetical turn of mind. She was not thought by any means the equal in mental power and weight of her elder sister, whose character was full of manly energy, who was a clear thinker, an excellent theologian, a good, great, high-hearted woman, with a strong will and remt,4kable execuitive abilities. Of all his children, Dr. Becelier is sahd to hlave most ligh,lly respected Catharine. Sara Willis miust here have laid an excellent foundation for successful authorship, though probably nothing was farther from her thoughts at the time than such a profession. It would have seemed too quiet and thought-compelling a career for her, with her heart as full of frolic as a lark's breast is of singing. There are yet traditions in that staid old town of Hartford, of her merry school-girl escapades, her "tricks and

Page  69 NANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. her manners," that draw forth as hearty laughter as the witty sallies, humorous fancies, and sharp strokes of satire thatgive to her writings their peculiar sparkle and dash. If she grappled with the exact sciences it is not probable that they suffered much in the encounter. For Geometry she is said to have had an especial and inveterate dislike. Indeed, her teacher, Mrs. Stowe, still tells a story of her having torn out the leaves of her Euclid to curl her hair with. So she laid herself down to mathematical dreams, her fair head bristling with acute angles, in parallelogrammatic and paralellopipedonic.papillotes, -in short, with more Geometry outside than in. A novel way of getting over "the dunce bridge," by taking that distasteful Fifth Proposition not only inwardly, but as an outward application; so that it might have read thus: "The angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal to one another; and if the equal sides be produced in curl papers, the angles on the other side of the os frontis are also equal." But in the laughing, high-spirited girl there must have existed unsuspected by those about her, almost unsuspected by herself, the courage and energy, the tenderness, the large sympathy, the reverence for the divine and the human, which love and sorrow, the trials and stress of misfortune, were to evolve from her nature, and which her genius was to reveal. A seer that might have perceived towering above the ringleted head of her absent-minded young teacher, a dark attendant spirit, benignant, but mournful, - poor, grand, old worldbewept, polyglotted Uncle Tom, - might also have seen in the few shadowy recesses of her young pupil's sunny character, the germs of those graceful " Fern Leaves" that were to bring to the literature of the people new vigor and verdure, the odors of woodlands, and exceeding pleasant pictures of nature. It must have been while Sara was at school in Ijartford, 69 I i i

Page  70 70 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. that her brother Nathaniel began to be famous as a poet. In that unlikely place, Yale College, he seems to have had a period of religious enthusiasm, or sentiment, and his scriptural poems were the result. They have always continued to be his most popular productions, but they are far from being his best. They are Scripture diluted, though diluted with rose-water. The young schoolgirl must have had a sister's pride in this handsome, brilliant brother, in the golden dawn of his fame. And here, let one whom he once befriended add this slight tribute to the poet's memory: What though his life did not wholly fulfil the promise of its fair morning,? It was a life marlred by many a generous act, though beset by more than ordinary temptations to utter worldliness and egotism, - a life that gladdened with its best thoughts and most brilliant fancies lives less fortunate, and yet perhaps less sacld. His genius delighted us long,; for his faults, who, standing over his grave, feels true and earnest and blameless enough to sternly condemn him? Miss Willis, soon after leaving school, married Mr. Eldridge, of Boston, and for several years lived in ease and comfort, and, what was far better, in domestic happiness. Three daughters were born to her, and the wondrous experience of motherhood must have come to her to exalt, yet subdue the passionate impulses and the undisciplined forces of her nature. Doubtless life with the new gladness, put on new solemnity; with the new riches, must have come humility. Love had done much for Sara Eldridge, maternity more; but she needed yet another heavenly teacher and helper,one no less benignant than they, but stern of aspect, mysterious, relentless, - Death. He descended on that happy little household, "the angel with the amaranthine wreath," and the husband and father "was not." Again he descended and bore away the first born, - a lovely, spiritual little girl, who

Page  71 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. in numbering over her bright, blameless years, could only say, "Seven times one are seven." Then came a weary beating out against the heavy sea of sorrow, of that dismantled pleasure-boat of a life, with one poor, grieving, inexperienced soul at the oars, and still such a precious freight of helpless love and childish dependence! Behind was the lee-shore of despair; beneath cold, bitter, merciless want, and very faintly in the horizon shone the fair, firm land. It is not for me to paint the cruel anxieties and perplexities of the widowed mother, - of a proud, independent woman, who could not ask for the help, withheld with what seemed to her unnatural indifference. The experience doubtless infused into a nature generous and frank, but strongly passionate in both its loves and resentments, an element of defiant, almost fierce, bitterness and hate, which caused it to be condemned by some whose good opinion would have been worth the gaining, and applauded by others whose praise brought no honor. But such an infusion of deadly night-shade juice as misanthropy and estrangement from friends once held most dear, could not long poison a mentall organization so healthy as hers; it had a quick, fiery run through her blood, struck, once or twice, with deadly effect, and was gone. It must be that her clear reasonable mind, seeing the swift, stern flight of the unrecallable days, must soon have felt that "Life is too short for such things as these," as poor Doug,las Jerrold said, when extending his hand to a friend from whom he had been for some time separated by a misunderstanding, -" an estrangement for which," said that noble friend, Charles Dickens, with generous tenderness, "I was the one to blame." In 1851 "Fanny Fern" was born into literary life. Au essay was penned by the widowed mother, on whose heart lay a great burden of loving care. That care was her inspiration, her desperate hope. Her muses were a couple of 71 i II

Page  72 72 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. curly-haired little maidens, in short frocks, who, in that gay unconsciousness of young girlhood, so charming, yet so exasperating, called innocently for new frocks, cloaks, and hats, kid gloves, slippers, ribbons, and French candies. So an essay was penned,- a little essay it was, I believe, measured by paragraphs and lines, but it was in reality "big, with the fate" of Fanny and her girls. It was a venture quite as important to its author as was the first "Boz" sketch to Charles Dickens, or as was "Jane Eyre "to Charlotte Bronte. After a patient trial and many rebuffs, she found, in a great city, an editor enterprising, or charitable, enough, to publish this essay, and to pay for it, - for he was a just man, who held that verily " the laborer is worthy of his hire,"- to pay for itfifty centsI It is to be hoped this Meeenas found himself none the poorer for his liberality at the end of the year. The essay proved a hit, "a palpable hit," and was widely copied and commented on. It was followed by others, written ill the same original, fearless style, which were gladly received by the public, and a little better paid for by publishers. A few months more of patient perseverance and earnest effort in her new field, and Fanny Fern could command her own price for her labor. Hier head was above wvater, never again to be submerged, let us trust. The winds of good fortune scattered those first "Fern Leaves" far and wide, till the country was green with them everywhere. Their peculiar dash and electrical vitality made for the unknown author thousands of eager, questioning admirers, and literary curiosity almost mobbed the publication office from which they emanated. Critics were not wanted, -oh, not by any means! -critics who charged the new story-writer and essayist with eccentricity, flippancy, cynicism, irreverence, masculinity, -with every conceivable sin of authorship except sentimentality, pharisaism, and prosiness. There was an unprofessional freedom and fearlessness in her

Page  73 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. style that made her very faults acceptable to that indefinite individual, "the general reader,"-an honest easy-goingc, fellow, who is little inclined to raise fine points in regard to an author's manner of expression, provided the feeling be all right. I remember thinking, that this bold rival was poaching a little on my own "merrie" Greenwood preserves; but as I watched her cool proceedings, saw how unerringo was her aim, and with what an air of proprietorship she bagged her game, I declined to prosecute, and went to Europe. When I returned I found she had the whole domain to herself, and she has kept it to this day. So mote it be! A most astonishing instance of literary success was the first book of " Fern Leaves," of which no less than seventy thousand copies were sold in this country alone! I wvould not seem to detract in the slightest degree from the genius of our author, -I would not rob her chaplet of one Fern Leaf, but I must say she was extremely fortunate in her publisher. Ilad she made choice of some aristocratic loulses, for iiistance, her books would have borne the envied Athenian stamp, but then, regarding copies sold, the reader of this veracious biography would have read for thousands —hundreds. But Fanny Fern, with her rare business sagacity and practical good sense, did not choose her publisher as young Toots chose his tailor,- "Burgess & Co., fas'hnable, but very dear." Then followed "Little Ferns, for Fanny's Little Friends," -whose names seem to have been Legion, for there were no less than thirty-two thousand of these young Fern gathierers. Then canie a "Second Series of Fern Leaves," in number thirty thousand. Total, - one hundred and thirty-t?vo thousand! I write it out carefully, for not having a head for figures, I am almost sure to make some mistake if I meddle with them. Moreover, these American Ferns, fresh and odorous with the freedom and spirit of the New World, took quick root in England, and spread and flourished like the 73 I i I II I

Page  74 7 4 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. American rhododendron. The mother country took for British home consumption forty-eight thousand copies, and much good did they do our little cousins, I doubt not. In 185 "Ruth Hall" (I had almost said Ruth-less Ihall) was published. In 1857 "Rose Clarke," —a kindlier book. These are, I believe, the only novels of F.tnny Fern. They were eagerly read, much commented upon, and had, like the "Leaves," a large sale. They were translated into French and German. In 1856 Falnny Fern was married to Mr. James Parton, of New York; a man of brilliant, but eminently practical, ability as a writer. It was a marri.age that seemed to the world to promise, if not happiness of the most romantic type, much hearty good fellowship, with mutual aid and comfort. Both were authors whose provinces bordered on Bohemia. They had apparently many tastes and characteristics in common; they were both acute, independent thinkers, rather than students or philosophers; they were rather special pleaders than reasoners, - rather wits than logicians. The style of each writer has decidedly improved of late years; yet neither has lost in individuality by this happy consolidation of provinces. Mr. Partoil's style has gained much in nerve and terseness, and even more in polish. Mrs. Parton's has more softness than of old, with no less vigor; it shows a surer grasp on, yet a more delicate handling of, thought; she does not startle as frequently as in her first essays, but she oftener pleases. Five years ago sorrow came again to this brightened and prosperous life. It came like a relentless ploughshare, and every smiling hope and ripe ambition went under for a time. It came like a volcanic sea-rise on a fair day, sweeping over the firm land of assured good fortune. A beloved daughter, a young wife and mother, died suddenly, leaving an infant child, for whose dear sake that brave soul gathered up all

Page  75 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. its forces and staggered up, and on. To this young life, bought with a price," this frail flower, born ill anguish and nurtured with tears, Fanny Fern has since devoted herself with more than a mother's tender solicitude. In this work, as in household duties, she has been- efficiently aided and supported by her sole remaining ldaughter. Mrs. Parton has been from the first a most acceptable writer for children. Her motherhood, a true motherhood of the heart, has given her the clue to the most mysterious, angelguarded labyrinths of a child's soul. She is the faithful interpreter of children, from the poor "tormented baby," on its nurse's knee, trotted, and tickled, and rubbed, and smothered, and physicked,- all the way up through the perils, difficutlties, and exceeding bitter sorrows of childhood, out of short firocks and roundabouts, into the rosy estate of young womanhood and the downy-lipped dignity of young manhood. Having a heart of perennial freshn;iess, full of spontaneous sympathies and enthusiasms, she never gets so far away froul her own youth that she cannot feel a thrill of kindred delilght in looking on the pleasures of the young, -on their bright, glad, eag,er faces. Bulwver says, "Young girls are very charmilng creatures, except when they get together and fall a-giling." Now I will venture to say this is just the time when Fanny Fern likes them best, -unless, indeed, the giggling is illtimed, and therefore ill-mannered. In a scene of festal light, bloom, and music, of glancing and dancing young figures, she would never stand aside in the gloom of dark shrubbery, hard and cold and solemnly envious, like the tomb in a certain landscape of Poussin, bearing the inscription, "I also once lived amid the delights of Arcadia." Yet, while ready to rejoice in the innocent mirth and exultant hopes of youth, this true woman can also feel a tender charity for its follies, and a yearning pity for its errors. No poor unfortunate in her utmost extremity of shame and mad 75 k I I I i

Page  76 76 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. abandonment, need fear from her lips a word of harsh rebuke, from her eyes a look of lofty scorn or merciless condemnation. But for the heartless wrong-doer, for the betrayer of an innocent, though ever so foolish, trust, - for the despoiler of hearts and homes, she has rebukes that scathe like flame, and scorn that bites like frost. WVith a healthy reverence for all truly devout souls, all earnest, humble, practical Christians,- for all things essentially pure and venerable,- Fanny Fern has an almost fierce hatred of cant, of empty pomp and formalism, assuming the name of religion. She valiantly takes sides with God's poor agilnst the most powerful and refined pharisaism. She would evidently rather sit down to worship with the " old salts," in Father Taylor's Seaman's Chapel, than in the most gorgeously upholstered pew, under the most resplendent stained windows, in the highest high church on Fifth Avenue. Not that she is wanting in a poet's sensuous delight in bright colors, rich textures, beautiful, refined faces, grand music and noble church-architecture, but that in the lives of the poor, colorless, homely, ungraceful, almost blindly aspiring and devout, there is something that moves her heart more tenderly and yet more solemnly. 41n "the low, sad music of humanity" there is something that touches a higher than the poetic sense; and to her the humblest Christian soul, simnple and ignorant, but trusting and loving, is a gracnder temple of God than the Cathedral of Milan, with its wondrous Alp-like peaks of snowy architecture, sentinelled with sculptured saints. Another noticeable characteristic of Fanny Fern is her hearty contempt for all pretensions, affectations, and dainty sillinesses; be they social, literary, or artistic. ShQ is eminently a womtan "with no nonsense about her." She detests shamns of all sorts, and sentimentality, French novels and French phrases. Almost as fiercely as she hates cant, she hates snobbery. Het honest American blood boils at the

Page  77 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. sio,ht of a snob, and she never fails soundly to " chastise him with the valor of her tongue." For that unnatural little mnonster, that anomaly and anachronism, an American fiunkey, even her broadest charity can entertain no hope, either for here, or hereafter. Thoug,h whole-hearted in her patriotism, Fanny Fern is niot a political bigot. She probably does not aver that she was born in New England at her " own particular request; " she has found that life is endurable out of Boston; she would doubtless admit that it can be borne with Christian philosophy out of Gotham, - even in small provincial towns, in which the " Atlantic Monthly" and " New York Ledger" are largely subscribed for. When here, she was enou,ghl of a cosmopolitan to praise our great city market, - uttering among, some pleasant things, this rather dubious compliment: "VWhat have these Philadelphians done, that they should have such butter?" Done? -lived virtuously, dear Fanny,-refused to naturalize the "Black Crook," or to send prize-fighters to Congress. But to return. Not because of the happy accident of her birth, does Fanny Fern stand gallantly up for our America; but because it is what it is,- the hope, the refuige, the sure rock of defence for the poor and oppressed of all nations,their true El Dorado, their promised land. Mrs. Parton is now, if parish registers, family records, and biographers do not lie, fifty-seven years old. But time which has done "its spiriting gently" with the style of the writcr, softening and refining it, cannot have touched the woman roughly, or drawn very heavy drafts on her energy and vital ity; for they wNho have seen her within a late period, speak of her as yet retaining all the spirit and wit of what are called "a womanl's best days," but which were, to her, days of care, trial, and toil, that would have borne down a heart less brave, and prostrated an organization less healthful. She must have 77

Page  78 78 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. had from the first a rare amount of "muscular Christianity" -must have been a conscientious self-care-taker - must have lived wisely and prudently, - in short, must have kept herself well "in hand," or she would have gone down in some of the ugly ditches, or stuck in some of the hurdles she has had to leap in this desperate race of a quarter of a century. Some New York paragraphist tells of having encountered her on Broadway, a short time since,- not as usual, walking with a hurried and haughty tread, the elastic step of an Indian princess, of the school of Cooper, - but pausing, after a man. ner quite as characteristic, to talk to a lovely baby in its nurse's arms; and, our amiable Jenkins relates, her face then and there shone with the very rapture of admiration and unforgotten maternal tenderness, melting through its mask of belligerent pride and harshness, and in that wonderful transfiguring, glow,seemed to wear the very look of the time when it first hung over a little cradle, or nestled dowi against a little baby-face, in the happy long ago. Yet it had looked on many a dear coffilned face since then. Fanny Fern has been the subject of many piquant Slid amusing anecdotes, some of them, perhaps most of them, haviang a foundation in fact, - for she is a person of too much spirit and character not to have noteworthy things happening to her and round about her rather frequently. Hers is a stirring, breezy life, to which anything like a dead calm is im possible. She is too swift and well freighted a craft not to leave a considerable wake behind her. She sails with all her canvas spread, by a chart of her own, so occasionally dashes saucily athwart the bows of steady-going old ships of the line, or right under the guns of a heavy man-of-war. As an author and woman, she consults neither authority, nor precedent, fashion, nor policy. As woman and author, she has always defied and despised that petty personal criticism, that paltry gossip which is the disgrace of American journal

Page  79 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. isii; which insists on discussing the author's or artist's most private and intimate life, -his domestic relations, his holiest affections, his most sacred human wealknesses and virtues, - on unveiling every sanctuary of sorrow, and following a poor wounded soul into its last fastnesses of decent reserve. Among the most spicy anecdotes of my sublject ever set floating about the country, is one of her having smashed, with her own vengeful hand, the china-set in her room, at the Girard House in Philadelphia, - because, after honorably reporting the accidental breaking of a bowl, she found herself charged a round sum for the entire toilet-set..This story we of a fun-loving and justice-loving household, have laughed over many times; but, as poor Beatrice Cenci stys, "We shall not do it any more;" for alas, the story isn't true!that is, as to the grand dramatic denouement. Wishing to chronicle only the exact truth in a matter of so much imlportance, I addressed to Mrs. Parton a letter of inquiry, and received in reply the following succinct statement - Mr. Parton and I had been stopping at the Girard House, and just as we were about starting for the cars, I said,' Wait till I wash my hands.' As I did so, the bowl slipped from my soapy fingers, and was broken. I said,' Report that when you pay the bill, lest the blame should come upon the poor chambermaid;' whereupon, to my intense disgust, the landlord charged for the whole toilet-set I Then, in my indignation, I did say to Mr. Parton,'I have a good mind to send all the rest of the set flying out of the window I' His less impetuous hand stayed me. I assure you it was no virtue of milne. My blood is quick and warm." This frank account spoils an excellent story, and shows us how meanness and injustice again went unpunished, after the manner of this miserable, mismanaged world,which it will take many a Fannly Fern and much crockery-smashing to set r,ght. 79 I I i

Page  80 80 EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE. Fourteen years ago Fanny Fern made an engagement with Mr. Bonner, of the "New'York Ledger," to furnish an article every week for his journal, - that giant among literary weeklies, but by no means a weakly giant, of tlhe Pickleson order, with a "defective circulation," nor even of the style of the seven league-booter, and freebooter of fairy lore; but rather of the type of the Arabian genii, who were anywhere and everywhere at once. Fourteen years ago, Fanny Fern made an engagement with Mr. Bonner, to furnish an article every week for the "Ledger," and "thereby hangs a tale," the most wonderful fact in this veracious biography: Behold! from that time to this, she has neverfailed one week to produce the stipulated article, on time/ Think, my reader, what this fact proves! what habits of industry, what system, what thoughtfulness, what business integrity, what super-woman punctuanlty, and 0 MinervaHygeia! what health! Aspasia was, Plato says, the preceptress of Socrates; she formed the rhetoric of Pericles, and was said to have composed some of his finest orations; but she never furnished an article every week for the "Ledger" for fourteen years. Hypatia taught mathematics and the Philosophy of Plato, in the great school of Alexandria, through most learned and eloquent discourses; but she never furnished an article for the "Ledger" every week for fourteen years. Elena Lucrezia Comoso Piscopia,'- eminently a woman of letters,- manfully mastered the Greek, Latin, Arabic, Hebrew, Spanish, and French; wrote astronomical and mathematical dissertations, and received a doctor's degree from the University of Padua; Laura Bassi, Novella d'Andrea, and Matelda Tambroni were honored with degrees, and filled professors' chairs in the University of Bologna; but as far as I have been able to ascertain, by the most careful researches, not one of these learned ladies ever furnished an

Page  81 PFANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. article for the "Ledger" every week for fourteen years. Coriuna, for her improvisations, was crowned at the Capitol in Rome with the sacred laurel of Petrarch and Tasso; but she never furnished an article every week for the "Ledger" for fourteen years. Miss Burney, Miss Porter, Mrs. Radcliffe, Miss Austin, Miss Baillie, Miss Mitford, Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Gaskell, and the Bronltes did themselves and their sex great honor by their literary labors; but not one of them ever furnished an article for the "Ledger" every week for fourteen years. Neither Mrs. Lewes nor Mrs. Stowe could do it, Georg,e Sand wouldn't do it, and Heaven forbid that Miss Braddon should do it! I Why, to the present writer, who is given to undertaking a good deal more than she can ever accomplish; who is always surprised by publication-day; who postpones every literary work till the last hour of grace, and then, a little longer; who requires so much of self-coaxing, and backing, to get into the traces, after a week or so of freedom and grass,- all this systematic purpose, this routine, and rigid exactitude, is simply amazing,- it verges on the marvellous, - it is Ledger-demaitn. Ah, Fanny, is then your Pegasus always saddled, and bridled, and whinnying in the court? Is the steam always up in that tug-boat of a busy brain? Is the wine of your fancy never on the lees? Are there no house-cleaning days in your calendar? Don't your country friends ever come to town and drop in on your golden working-hours? Are there no autogrTlaph-hunters about your doors? Do not fond mammas ever send in their babies to deliciously distract you on a Ledger" day? Do your dear five. hundred friends always respect it, and postpone their weddings, musical matinees and other mournful occasions? Does the paper-hanger never put you to rout? Do you never have a bout with your sew 6 81

Page  82 82 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ing-machine and get your temper ruffled? Does not that wonderful wean," that darling grandchild, dainty little Effie, ever have a fit of naughtiness, or whooping-cough, or a tumble downstairs, on that day? Don't you ever long, on just that day, to lie on the sofa and read Thackeray? Ah, do not wars and influenzas, national crises and kitchen imbroglios, disappointed hopes and misfitting dresses, an instinctive rebellion against regulations and resolutions, even of your own making, ever interfere with your writing for the "Ledger"? Doubtless you have been tempted, in times of hurry, or languor, in journeyings and dog-day heats, to break your agreement; but an honest fealty to a generous publisher has hitherto constrained you to stand by; and we like you for it. Other publishers may be bon, but he is Bonner. So you do not demean yourself by following the triumphal chariot of his fortunes (Dexter's trotting wagon) like Zenobia in chains, -since the chains are of gold. As a writer of brief essays and slight sketches, Fanny Fern excels. She seems always to have plenty of small change in the way of thoughts and themes. She knows well how to begin without verbiage, and to end without abruptness. She starts her game without much beating about the bush. She seems to measure accurately the subject and the occasion, and wastes no words, - or, as poor Artemus Ward used to say, never "slops over." As a novelist, she is somewhat open to the charge of exaggeration, and she is not sufficiently impersonal to be always artistic. Her own fortunes, loves, and hates live again in her creations, - her heroines are -her doubles. As a moralist, she is liable to a sort of uncharitable charity and benevolent injustice. In her stout championship of the poor, of the depressed and toil-worn many, she seems to harden her heart against the small, but intelligent, rich but respectable, portion of our population, known as''Upper-tendom." Can any good thing come out of Fifth

Page  83 FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON. Aveniue? is the spirit of many of her touching little sketches. She seems to think that the scriptural comparison of the difficult passage of the camel through the eye of the needle settled the case of Mr. Crcesus. Her tone is sometimes a little severe and cynical when treating of the shortcomiings of the world of fashion. It is so easy to criticise from the safe position of a philosopher or poet; but how many of us would dare to answer for our Spartan simplicity and moderation, and our Christian charity and benevolence,-virtues which of course we all now possess in abundance, - should fortune take a sudden turn, open for us her halls of dazzling light, provide for us ample changes of purple and fine linen, of the fashionable cut, wine and strong drink, and terrapin suppers, chariots, and horses, yachts, opera-boxes, diamonds, and French bonnets? Fanny Fern herself regrets that she has not been able to give more careful study to her writing,- to concentrate here, and elaborate there, - to be, in short, always the artist. She has done many things well,- she mi,ghlt have done a few things surpassingly well. But she has, I doubt not, written out of an honest heart always, earnestly and fearlessly, - written tales, sketches, letters, essays spiced with odd fancies, satire, and humor, - some exquisitely tender and pitiful, some defiant and belligerent in tone; but none with a doubtful moral ring about them. She has chosen to feed the multitude on the plain with simple, wholesome food, rather than to pour nectar for the Olympians. Hecr genius is practical and democratic, and so has served the people well, and received a generous reward in hearty popular favor. She has probably not accomplished the highest of which she is capable, but all that the peculiar exigencies of her life have permitted her to accomplish. In faithfully doing the work nearest to her hand she may be consoled by the consciousness that art has been shouldered aside by duty alone. Speaking of her little 83 t. i k I

Page  84 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. grand-daughter, in a private letter, she says: "Our little Effie has never been left with a servant, and, although to carry out such a plan has involved a sacrifice of much literary work, or its unsatisfactory incompleteness, I am not and never shall be sorry. She is my poem." By these things we may see that whatever masks of manly independence, pride, or mocking mischief Fannly Feln may put on, she is, at the core of her nature, "pure womanly." I have written this article with little more personal knowledg,e of Mrs. Parton than I have been able to obtain from brief biographical sketches, and the recollections and impressions of friends. Not from choice have I so done, after the manner of the critic, who made it a rule not to read a book before reviewing it, for fear of being "prejudiced;" but because I have never been so fortunate as to cross orbits with my brilliant, but somewhat erratic subject. Her life has been attempted many times; indeed, literary biographers seem to be under the impression that "the oftener this wonderful woman is repeated the better," to quote from the immortal Toots. May that life have years enough and fame and prosperity enough to justify many other sketches, worthier than this, before the coming of that "Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history." And may that scene come with tender gradations of purple twilight shades, deepening into a night, star-lit with hope, and sweet with love - all balm, and rest, and peace; "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." 84

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Page  85 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. BY REV. E. B. HUNTINGTON. WERE any intelligent American citizen now asked to name the American woman, who, for a quarter of a century before 1855, held a higher place ill the respect and affections of the American people than any other woman of the times had secured, it can hardly be questioned that the prompt reply would be, MRs. LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY. And this would be the answer, not simply on the ground of her varied and extensive learning; nor on that of her acknowledged poetic gifts; nor on that of her voluminous contributions to our current literature, both in prose and verse; but rather, because with these gifts and this success, she had with singular kindliness of heart made her very lifeworkl itself a constant source of blessing and joy to others. Her very goodness had made her great. Her genial goodwill had given her power. Her loving friendliness had made herself and her name everywhere a charm. So that, granted that other women could be named, more gifted in some endowments, more learned in certain branches, and even more ably represented in the literature of the times; still, no one of them, by universal consent, had succeeded in winningi, so largely the esteem and admiration of her age. It is of this woman that we need not hesitate to write, when we would make up our list of the representative women of our times. She was a woman so rare, we need not?iesi 85

Page  86 86 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. tate to claim it, for her native gifts, and still more, so genial and lovable, in deed and spirit, that her very life seemed a sort of divine benediction upon our age. And who, more worthily than she, can represent to us the best and highest type of cultivated womanhood? LYDIA HOWAnD I-IuNTLEY, the only child of Ezekiel and Sophia (Wentworth) Huntley, was born in Norwich, Connlecticut, Sept. 1, 1791. In her parentage and birthplace we have no indistinct prophecy of her future life. Their lessons, wrought into the very texture of her sensitive souil, served as the good genius of her long and bright career. She could never forget or deny them. Their precious memory was to her a perpetual and exceeding joy. Witness this sweet picture of her early home, drawn by her own child-hand, yet, even so early, foreshowing the lifelong brightness of her loving spirit: - "My gentle kitten at my footstool sings Her song, monotonous and full of joy. Close by my side, my tender mother sits, Industriously bent-her brow still bright With beams of litngering youth, while he, the sire, The faithful gulde, indulgently doth smile." What but a blessed influence over her could such a home have had? And we shall not wonder, when, fifty years later, we find her filial hand sketching, so exquisitely, the "beaming smile," and "the love and patience sweet," with which those dear names were embalmed. Few, very few, have borne with them through life, so freshly and so lovingl,y, the forms and the affections of their home-friends. The impression they made upon her must have been exceedinigly precious to her heart; and so her affectionate love kept faithful vigil over these dearest treasures of her memory. Hardly less forceful than these home-ilftuences, must have been the beautiful and romantic sceneries, and the genial

Page  87 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. social life of her native town. It could but have stirred and educated such a soul as hers to have spent her childhood amid such scenes: " Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark, Leaping rills, like the diamond spark, Torrent voices, thundering by, Where the pride of the vernal floods swelled high." It is her own testimony which reveals to us the power of these home-charms over her life, - a testimony given, when, to use her own felicitous figure, she was now "journeying towards the gates of the WVest": "Yet came there forth from its beauty a silent, secret influence, moulding the heart to happiness, and love of the beneficent Creator." And still again she records their power: "We have garnered those charms and attractions that bring A spell o'er our souls when existence was young." So nurtured, we can understand the secret of that love for Norwich and its scenery which she never failed to show to her latest day. It only needed an invitation to her to revisit the "dear old places" of her childhood, to kindle anew the fervors of more than her childhood joy: "We accept, we will come, wheresoever we rove, And wreathe round thy birthday our honor and love. We love thee, we love thee; thy smile, like a star, Hiath gleamed in our skies, though our homes were afar." Added to the affection of her parents, and to these sweet charms of her native town, was still another, and a veiy marked home-influence, which was destined to prove educationlal to her. Madame Lathrop, one of the noblest of the many worthy Norwich matrons of that day, a daughter of Governor Talcott, of Hartford, and widow of Daniel Lathrop, 87 i

Page  88 88 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. a wealthy and accomplished citizen of Norwich, had made her own elegant and hospitable home that also of the Huntley family. She took great interest in Lydia, and drew strongly to her own the heart of the sensitive girl. And did she not, in the daily communing of their souls, leave somewhat of her own noble spirit of self-denial and rich charity as fruitful seed in that young heart? What other proof do we need than tha" which comes from the oft-repeated testimony of the child herself, even down to her latest years? Let her sketch for us, in her own sweet way, the record of this blessed inlfluence over her character and life: - "A fair countenance, a clear blue eye, and a voice of music return to me as I recall the image of that venerated lady over whom more than threescore and ten years had passed ere I saw the light. Her tall, graceful form, moving with elastic step through the parterres whose numerous flowers she superintended, and her brow raised in calm meditation from the sacred volume she was readingl, were to me beautiful. The sorrowful came to be enlightened by the sunbeam that dwelt in her spirit, and the children of want to find bread and a garment. The beauty of the soul was hers that waxeth not old. Love was in her heart to all whom God had made. At her grave I learned my first lesson of a bursting grief that has never been forgotten. Let none say that the aged die unloved or unmourned by the young." It must have been an influence of great power which such a character wielded over such a nature; and we cannllot wonder that, long years after that hallowed intimacy, we find the grateful child thus recording her remembrance of it: "The cream of all my happiness was a loving intercourse with venerable old age." Nor can we deny her the dutiful joy of dedicating one of her earliest publications, as "an offering

Page  89 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. of gratitude to her whose influence, like a golden thread, had run through the whole woof of my life." It was under influences like these that her life had its dawning. Exceedingly sensitive and impressible, she readily responded to their power. They found her a keen observer, and a very rapid learner. Her infancy seems to have been like the later childhood of most girls, and her girlhood wore the thoughtfulness and reached the attainments of ordinary womanhood. The insight into this earliest period of her life, which her "Letters of Life" so artlessly give its, is one of the most curious pages in our autobiographic literature. We have here, perhaps, the most unaffected and childlike prattle about child-life, iu the latnguagte of doting old age. Possibly there maiy be something excessive in the coloring given to the whole picture; but surely we can afford to let the penl of old age use the freedom which a warm heart, warming anew amid the scenes and play-places of its young life, might dictate. Let the venerated authoress, if in her deep joy she recalls the events which seemed so important to her young fancy, tell the whole story, which once she might have hesitated to do, and which other authors, more careful to prune their tlhoughts to the accepted proprieties, would not assuredly have done. It certainly cannot harmn us to be made, once in our lives, familiar in letters with the very precocities, if you will, which are so oftenl seenl in bright children, yet which we do not usually elevate to the dignity of the printed page. If she speaks of the little attempts at conversation made in the first year of her life, have we not all heard and been charmed with hearing the same thing in our own little ones? If she details even the prattle, and the occasional wise and over scholarly sayings or fancies of her third summer among the flowers, why not give her credit for what, tho-ugh perhaps not I 89

Page  90 90 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. very common, is still plainly pos;sil)le to a child of g,ifts, especially if she has spent her first three years under the most helpful of influences? It need not be counted an offence if she tell us over what nobody else will be likely to tell us, -the whole story of her doll-teachiig, and training. It is a pretty picture which that same scene makes when acted in all of our homes, and why should not its sketch, whether by the pencil of the artist or the pen of the writer, charm us too? But is there not, also, in this the very best of sense? How it aids us to understand the woman, to see the little one with her dolls around her, and hear her begin there her vwork of persuasion and authority! It instructs as well as chlarms us to visit the artless child in her " spacious garret;" to note her curious search among its gathered household treasures; to find her settling herself down like the bee to its flower-food, as she finds an old hymn-book there; to see her hearty love for the " large black horse," "the red-coat cows," "the crowing, brooding, and peeping poultry," and the "pliant pussy" which sat in her lap or sported by her side, and whichl was "as a sister" to her. It will instruct us, where we shall need light, to roam awhile with the laughing babe and child, "firom garden to garden;" to run with her at full speed through the alleys;" to recline by her side, "when wearied, in some shaded recess," or even on the "mow of hay in the large, lofty barn," where we can together "watch the quiet cows over their fiag,rant food;" and then to sit down with her at the fitmily table, and taste with her of the bread so sweet, "made in capacious iron basins." Suppose, in this way, we learn how early and how regular her meals were; how uniform and simple the diet on which she was reared; and how exact and respectful and decorous the behavior of that hour. Do not all of these lessons explain the character which they so certainly help to form? And so we may well thank the authoress of seventy years that she allowed herself to recall, for our

Page  91 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. delight and instruction, those germinal forces of hei favored childhood. Let us now follow this child, as she prepares herself for the life-wvork before her. At four years of age we find her in the school nearest to the house of her parents; and we only learn of that first school, that its " spelling-classes" were the clief delight of the child. Trivial as this fact is, it gives us no unmeanicng hint. Her second teacher, a gentleman, perhaps the teacher of the winter school, won the child to the use of the pen, and laid the foundation of that distinct, printlike chirography which was so serviceable to her whole future career. Next, the teacher of needle-work does her good service by starting her well in this feminine art, of which she made later the best of use. And now comes the young ladies' school, under an English lady of varied accomplishment; and here she makes a good beginning in music and painting and embroidery. And here, too, we get valuable hints, and it would well repay us, had we time, to watch the child in the beginning of her art-life. It was flill of meaning, —that extemporized studio at home, that "piece of gamboge," that "fragment of indigo, begged of the washerwoman," those coffee-grounds to give the ambered brown, and those child-experiments, again and again repeated, to secure desired tints. WTe may note, too, about this time, how the literary taste and enthusiasm of the child was aroused. Hiow life-like was its beginnin,g! She started a story, which the record does not finish; for they all said it was too much for her. She was "only just eight years old." Next we find her in the school of a graduate of Dublin, and here she makes rapid progress in mathematics. Her next step forward, in the school on the Green, under an educated and veteran teacher, places her at the head of the readingclasses. Then, under the training of Mr. Pelatiah Perit, who became so eminent amnong the business men of the country, 91 iI I II I.

Page  92 92 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. she spent another year of successful study. Pursuiing still the English classics and Latin, she finished in her fourteenth year her school-life at home. Then followed a course of domestic training in the duties of house-keeping, yet not so pressingly as to hinder the private study of the Latin. For the higher ornamental branches she spent parts of two years in Ilartford; and, with more than ordinary mental activit and attainment, she takes leave of her school-life. Yet, sulch was her thirst for learning, that nothing could hinder her studies; and we find her, wvith the enthusiasm of a scholar, devoting her later girlhlood to the study of even the original Hebrew of the Christian Scriptures. And now begins her career as teacher, - a life which she seems to have chosen scarcely more for want of somethling to do than from love of teaching itself. Her first experiment had been made in her fathler's house, and the result confirmed her purpose to make it her life-work. In her nineteenth year, in company with iMiss Nancy M. Hyde, a very intimate friend, she opened a select school for girls in Chelsea, now Norwich City. Her interest in the work was very great, and her success no less so. We can readily accept her later testimony that she found her daily employment "less a toil than privilege." But, through the influence of M1r. Daniel Wadsworth, of Hartford, she was induced to establish for herself a private school for girls in that city; and, in 1814, she entered uponl its duties. During the five years she remained in this school she won a twofold reputation. Her success as teacher was well-nigh unparalleled for the times, and descrvingly so; while her influence over the social circles of the city had become no less marked. Her influence over her pupils was something wonderful. They loved her with a love which nothing could repress; and their devotion was as true and lasting, as their love. What testimnony to the streng,th of her hold upon

Page  93 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. themn those annual reunions on their commencement day furnishes! Even long years after they had become scattered over the land, those days were held sacred in their hearts. And when their little ones began to gather about them, they, too, were taken to the hallowed place, that on them also might fall the sweet influence which had so long blessed their mothers. But, from the very beginning of her life in Hartford, she made for herself a place in the confidence and affections of the people, which every successive year only served to confirm. She became, in the just language of as high authority as the venerable S. G. Goodrich, "the presiding genius of its young social circle," and she was never called in her lon(g career to vacate that post of honor. It was while thus winning her way as teacher that she also began her public literary life. At the urgent request of her friend, Mr. Wadsworth, she consented to issue her first volume, entitled, "Pieces ill Prose and Verse." This work was printed in 1815, at the expense of Mr. Wadsworth. And the list of subscribers, which was also printed, indicates thus early the reputation which newspaper publicity had given her. But another event soon interrupts her career as teacher. Charles Sig,ourney, a merchant of the city, a gentleman of wealth and literary culture and high social position, solicits and wins her hand. Their marriage was celebrated in the Episcopal church of her native town, in the early summer of 1819. Mr. Sigourney, of Huguenot descent, was already a communicant in the Episcopal church; and, on her miarriage, Mlrs. Sigourney, who, since 1809, had been a devoted Christian and a member of the Congregational church, felt it to be her privilege and duty to transfer her membership to the church to which her husband belonged. This marriage threw upon Mrs. Sigourney the care of the 93 I t I II t

Page  94 94 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. three children of her husband by a former wife; and that care was assumed with a singular devotion to their comnfort and welfare; and in this field only did she find room henceforth for her gifts as teacher. But both her position at the head of the first circle in the leading, metropolis of the State, and her means, and the culture of her husband, conspired to encourage her in the literary field in which she was now winning, such a triumph. Besides the volume printed in 1815, in 1816 she had published her "Life and Writings of Nancy Maria Hyde," an interesting tribute to the memory of her most intimate friend and fellow-teacher; and during the year of her marriag,e appeared, also, "The Square Table," a pamphlet designed as a corrective of what were deemed the harmful tendencies of "Arthur's Round Table," which was then exciting considerable attention in the community. From this date to that of her death our record must be that of an earnest woman, filling up every hour of her day with its allotted duty, cheerfully and nobly done. Few women have been so diligent workers, few have maintained such fervency of spirit, and few have, in all their working, so faithfully served the Lord. Her position, that of second wife and step-mother, has not always been found an easy one to fill; yet, even with the temptations which her literary tastes might be supposed to offer, she could never be justly reproached for neglecting any home-duty. Bound to her friends with no ordinary ties of affection, she lived, first of all, for them. Even her literary life is most crowded with its witnesses to her home-love, and indeed was largely its result. She worked, and wrote, and prayed, that she might faithfully meet this prime claim upon her heart and life. We cannot follow, in detail, this busy and painstaking career. We find her at the head of her household, which at times was large, shrihking from no burden or self-denial \

Page  95 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. needed in her work, - living to see her two step-daulghters educated and settied in life, and their brother, at the age of forty-five, consigned to a consumptive's grave; to educate her own daughter and son, and then, just on the verge of a promising manhood, to follow him, too, to his grave; to care for both her own parents, until, in a good old age, she might tenderly hand them down to their last rest; to follow her beloved and honored husband to his grave; to give her own only datghter away in acceptable marriage; and then to settle herself down, joyful and trustful yet, in her own home, vacated indeed of her loved ones, but filled still with precious mementos of their love, until her own change should come. These forty-six years, between her marriage and her death, were mainly spent at her home ill Hartford. Her travels were chiefly those of brief journeys through the Eastern and Middle States. Once she visited Virginia, and once crossed the Atlantic, visiting within the year the chief points of attraction in England, Scotland, and France. The rest of those fortysix years were most industriously employed in her own loved home, filled up with domestic duties or with literary and benevolent work; and it is safe to say that few women have ever worked to better account. She won universal respect and love. The poor and the rich, the ignorant and the educated, alike found in her that which delighted and charmed them; and so she came to occupy a place in their affections which they accorded to no other. But, doubtless, it will be as a literary woman that she will be most widely known. And no estimate of her career which leaves out of the account the character and value of her writings can do justice to her memory. Beginning in 1815, and closiong with her posthumous " Letters of Life" in 1866, her published writings numbered fifty-seven volumes. Besides these, our newspaper and magazine literature must have furnished nearly as much more. Her correspondence, 95

Page  96 96 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. not published, amounting to nearly one thousand seven hundred letters annually for several years, must have exceeded largely these printed writings; so that she must have been one of the most voluminous writers of her age. We have not space for a critical analysis of her writings. We would simply indicate their aim and success. Wrhatever niay be said of their artistic execution, of one thing we are sure, that their spirit and aim are as noble as ever inspired human literature; and the world has already accepted them as a worthy offering. A sharp critical judgment must agree with Mrs. Sigourney's own decision, that she wrote too much for highest success, both in invention and style. But when we stop to ask why she wrote so much, we shall find our answer in the very elements of her character, which contributed most to her eminence. Her first published volume reveals with great clearness at least these two qualities of the writer: the strength of her affections, and her equally strong sense of duty to others. We feel that she wrote what her kind heart prompted, that she might please or aid those who seemed to her to have just claims upon her. Instead of using the precious moments on the mere style of her expression, she was ever hurrying along on some urgent call of affection or duty. She could not stop to think of her literary reputation when some dear friend was pleading at her heart, or some sorrowing soul needed to be comforted. More than almost any other writer of the day, she wrote not for herself, but for others. And it is precisely here that we find the real key, both to whatever faults of style her writings may betray, and to the very best success of her life. For, while she greatly blessed the multitudes for whom she so rapidly wrote, we cannot but notice, also, how in her successive works, she is gaining both in the force and beauty of her style. We see on almost every page of her writings how tender

Page  97 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. her spirit, how sensitive her sympathy was. From the beginning, her affections, sanctified )y a Christian purpose, took the lead. We know that it was her greatest ." joy to raise The trembler from the shade, To bind the broken, and to heal The wounds she never made." But we must not dwell on these charming witnesses to the tenderness of her loving heart. It is easy to see that one so rtuled, would not regard the mere style of her expression of highest value. And yet it would do injustice to Mrs. Sig,ourney, to leave out of the account the care and painstaking, with which she sought to make her writings most effective. We lknow she must have sought ease and fluency as well as exactness and vigor of expression. Her writings abound in witnesses innumerable to these graces. The call made upon her pen from the first magazines of the day, and firom the more solid works issuingi from our best publishing-houses, of itself testifies to the great merit even of her style. No critic can read that beautiful poem on the "Death of an Infant," commencing with "Death found strange beauty on that polished brow, And dashed it out," without feeling that none but a true poet, practised in the art, could have written it. We might instance her "Scottish WVeaver," " Breakfast," "Birthday of Longfellow," "My Stuffed Owl," "Niagara," and hundreds of other poems, in all of which may be found passages of great beauty and power. We are sure we cannot afford, these many years, to let those graceful, and at times exquisite, gems, drop out of our literature; nor can we doubt that their author will continue to rank high even among the poets of her age. 97 I I

Page  98 98 EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE. Without space for repeating the entire list, even of her poetic works, it is due to our readers to indicate those whlich shall best exhibit the merits and the extent of her poetic writings, and we believe we shall do this by naming, the eig,ht following voltimes, with their dates: Her Poems, 1827, pp. 228; Zinzendclorf, and other Poems, 1835, 2d edition, pp. 300; Pocahoutats, and other Poems, 1841, pp. 284; London edition, 1841, pp. 348; Select Poems, 1842, pp. 324, fourth edition, of which eilght thousand copies had been already sold; Illustrated edition, 1848, pp. 408; Western Home, and other Poemns, 1854, pp. 360; and Gleanings, 1860, pp. 264. Of her prose works we can only indicate that which most clearly establishes the writer's rank among, our very l)est prosewriters of the age. 11er "Past Meridian," given to the woild in her sixty-fifth year, which has now reached its fourth edition, is one of our most charming classics. One cannot read those delighltful pages, without gratitude that the gifted author was spared to give us such a coronal of her useful authorship. It were easy to collect quite a volume of the most enthusiastic commendations of this chlarming work; b)ut we nmust leave it, with the assutirance that it gives a inew title to its beloved author to a perpetual fame in English literature. And what a testimony we also have in the reception our authoress has received amongo even our best critics! It certainly was no mean praise, which Hart, in his selections from the Female Prose Writers gives us, when he so graphically and truthfully says of her writings, that they "are more like the dew than the lightning." Peter Parley pronounced her, next to Willis, the most successftiul and lilberal contributor to the Token." Professor Cleveland, in his Comnpend of English Literature, could not more truthfully have characterized her writings than he did, as "pure, lofty, and holy in tendency and influence." C. W. Everest, in his Connecticut

Page  99 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. Poets, only repeats the common jtudgment ill his decision, "Love and religion are the unvarying elements of her song." E. P. Whipple, the very Nestor of our critics, was ol)liged to bear testimony to the popularity of her works. I-e speaks of her faicility in versification, and her fluency both in thought and language; and only claims, what all critics will easily allow, that from the very quantity of her writing, she " hardly does justice to her real powers." But we need not pursue our citations of critical approval furtber. WVe acklnowlecldge the skill with which Mrs. Sicgourney used our flexible English tongue; but we still more admire, and would never fail to honor, the deep undertone of "the still, sad music of hunmanity," which hallowed all her song. We will let her, though unwittingly, while describing the noble devotion of the pleading Queen Philippa, sketch herself: "THE ADVOCATE OF SORROW, AND THE FRIEND OF THOSE WIIHONI ALL FORSAKE." We cannot but return to this ruling spirit of her life, equally unaffected and controlling in her girlhood and her latest years. Her gifts of charity and love often exceeded the allowance of her income which she saved for herself. Wlhat monuments,he thus built for herself in grateful hearts! Witness her frequent visits to the Reform School in Mleriden. Those delighted boys cannot soon forget that beautiful orchard, whose thrifty trees she gave as her blessing to them; nor that last gift, the generous Easter cake, which made that festival so joyous to them; nor, most of all, that beautiftil smile of hers, always so radiant with her hearty good-will and hope. Oh, there was a blessing in that presence, even for young lives that have been tempted down into the dark shadows of a premature disgrace! Or who shall make her presence good to the pupils of the 99

Page  100 100 EMINENT WOMEN OF THiE AGE. Deaf and Dumb Asylum in her own city, on whose mute joy her very looks beamed a more eloquent sympathy than our best words can express? Or when will the poor orphIins of the asylums she so loved to visit forget her tenderness and love? Hear this good woman, even amid the painl and exhaustion o f her last sickness, thoughtful still of the suffering ones who mi, ghtt miss her timely charity, tenderly askling, morning after ,morni ng, " Is there any gift for me to send to-day?" Aore touchingl y still, as you stand over her on the very last night of her stay on earth, you will hear this faintly, yet clearly uttered wis h of the dying, woman, "I would that I might live until morni ng, that I may, with my own hand, do Lip that little lac e c ap for that dear little babe." And so she left us, wit h her though(t of love still on those whom she was to leave behind. Blessed departure, that! And did she not find how true her own sweet verse proved: - "And thy good-morning shall be spoke By weet-voiced angels, that shall bear thee honme To ihe divine Redeemer "? And how appropriate the last lines of the last poem that she was permitted to write on earth,- the )eautiful image of her soul to leave for us to look onil forever: - ," Heaven's peace be with you all! Farewell! Farewell!" Saturday morning, June 10, 1866, was the date of her death. Her funeral was itself a-witness to us of all that we have claimed for her in the city where she lived and died. Specially fitting was it, that those "children of silence " to whom she had loved to minister, and those now doubly orphaned little ones from the asylum, should have their place in that mourning throng.

Page  101 LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY. And after the funeral, when the papers of the city attempted to sum up the city's loss, it was specially fitting that from the pen of a neighbor we should have this testimony: "For fifty years this good lady has blessed our city." To these abundant witnesses to Mrs. Sigourney's noble goodness, we can only add that of her personal friend, S. G. Goodrich, who was, also, extensively acquainted with the best characters of the generation to which she belonged: "No one whom I know can look back upon a long and earnest career of such unblemished beneficence." And how can we better close this too brief sketch of this honored woman, than in the words in which she so well has announced the imperishable fame of the gifted Mrs. Hemans: - "Therefore, we will not say Barewell to thee; for every unborn age Shall mix thee with its household charities. The sage shall greet thee with his benison, And woman shrine thee as a vestal'lame In all the temples of her sanctity; And the young child shall take thee by the hand And travel with a surer step to heaven." 101

Page  102 102 EMINENT WOIE~N OF THE AGE. MIRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. BY JAMES PARTON. THERE was excitement and expectation among the playgoers of New York, in the early days of September, 1832. Stars, new to the firmament of America, were about to appear, -a great event in those simple days, when Europe supplied us with almost all we ever-had of public pleasure. Charles IKemble, brother of MIrs. Siddons the peerless, and of John IKemble the magnificent, was coming, to America, accompanied by his daughter, "Fanny 1Kemble," the most brilliant of the recent acquisitions to the London stage. Charles Kemble was then an exceediingly stout gentleman, of fiftyseven, fitter to shine in Falstaff than in Hamlet; yet such is the power of genuine talent to overcome the obstacles which niature herself puts in its way, that he still played with fine effect some of the lilghtest and most graceful characters of the drama. He played Hamlet well, and Benedick better, when he must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds; and people forgot, in admiring the charm of his manner, and the noble beauty of his face, that he had passed his prime. His dau,ghter, at this period, was just twenty-one years of age, and stood midway iin her brief and splendid theatrical career, which had begun two years before, and was to end two years after. The play selected for the first appearance of the young actress in America was Fazio. The old Park theatre was

Page  103 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. the place. It was the evening of Tuesday, September the 18th, 1832. Charles Kemble had appeared the night before to a crowded house in his favorite part of Ihamlet, which he performed with that finish and thoroughness characteristic of all the family of the Kembles. On this evening, the house was still more crowded, and the weather was oppressively warm. At half past six Miss Kemble went to the theatre to prepare for the ordeal before her. To give time for the audience to assemble and settle in their seats, the farce of Popping the Question was first performed. It was a night of mishaps. When she reached the theatre, she discovered that the actor (a novice from London) who was to play the principal male part in the tragedy of Fazio was so completely terror-stricken at the prospect before him that he gasped for breath, and he excited the pity, even more than the alarm, of the lady whose performance he was about to mar. She did her best to reassure.him, but with small success. W,hen they were about to take their place upon the stage just before the curtain rose, he was in an absolute panic, and appeared to be choking with mere fright. She hastily brought him some lemonade to swallow, and was immediately obliged to take her place with him in the scene. According to the custom of actresses who play the chief part in Fazio, she sat with her back to the audience. The curtain rose. As the back of one young lady bears a striking resemblance to that of another, and as she was dressed with perfect plainness, the audience did not recognize her, and remained silent. The actor supporting her, who had calculated upon the usual noisy reception, and was still ill the last extremity of terror, stood stock still gazing, at the heroine, evidently waiting for the audience to do their part before he began- his. The hint was taken at length, or, probably, some friends of the lady recognized her, and then the whole assembly clalpped their hands and used their voices, according to the established 103

Page  104 104 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. custom on such occasions. Her reception, indeed, was in the highest degree cordial, - such as New York has ever delig,hted to bestow upon distinguished talent, from whatever part of the world it may have come. The play began. The frightened actor broke down in his second speech. Miss Kemble prompted him, but he was too completely terrified to understand her, and he spoiled the situation. This happened so frequently that the great actress was prevented, not merely from exerting her powers, but from fixing her mind upon her part at all; for, what with prompting her distracted Fazio, and his total obliviousness of what actors call " the business" of the scene, she became at length almost as much frilghtened as he was, and she thought that her total and ignominious failure was inevitabl)le. It is a curious thing, however, that a performer upon the stage may be enduring a martyrdom of this kind, and scarcely a soul in the audience suspect it. I remember once )eing close to the stage when Edwin Booth was platying Hlamlet, iand the king was so intoxicated that it was with real diffi(elty that he kept himself upright upon his throne, and he hald to be prompted at every other word. Mr. Booth was on the rack dtiring, the whole of the first scene in which he appears, and kept up a running fire of the most emphatic observations upon the conduct of his royal uncle. It was with the greatest difficulty that the scene was carried on; and yet, I was informed by persons in front of the house, that they had not observed anything extraordinary,.except that the king was a very bad actor, which in that part is as far as possible from being extraordinary. And so it was with Miss Kemble. She strugg)led throtugh the first two acts with her miserable Fazio. She was rid of him at the beginnlin of the third act, and from that time began to play with freedom and effect. IIer success was comulete. Every point of that intense and passionate perform

Page  105 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.L ance wnos heartily applauded, and when the curtain went down at the close of the fifth act, she was summoned to reappear as vociferously as heart could wish. This was the beginning of a most brilliant and successful engagement in New York. Here, as everywhere, her crowning, triumph was in the part of Julia, in Sheridan Knowles' play of the HIunchback, a play which was written expressly for her, and in which she gained her greatest London success. Most of those telling "points," which are repeated by every actress whenever this play is performed, were originated by Miss Kemble, and never failed, or can fail, to produce a powerful effect upon an audience whenever they are respectably madce. This youing lady came rightly by her dramatic talent. She was a member of a family which, for three generations, had contributed to the English stage its brightest ornaments. Roger Kemlble, the first of the family who is known to fame, born in 1721, himself an actor and manager, was the father of twelve children, five of whom embraced his profession and became eminent in it. His eldest child, Sarah Ketmble, mnarried at the age of eighteen an actor of a country company, named Siddons, and became the greatest actress that ever lived. John Philip Kemble, the eldest son of Roger, was perhaps, upon the whole, the greatest actor of modern times. George Stephen Kemble, another son of the country manager, was also an excellent actor, and is now remembered chiefly for his performance of Falstaff, which he was fat enough to play without stuffing. Elizabeth Kemble, a sister of Mrs. Siddojis, married an actor named Whitlock, with whom she came to the United States, where she rose to the first position on the stage, and had the honor of performing before General Washington and the other great men of that day. She made a fortune in America, and retired to Fnglvand in 1807 to enjoy it. Finally, there was Charles Kiemnble., the ) 105

Page  106 106 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. youngest child of Roger except one, an actor of great note on the English stage for many years. It was by no means the intention of Roger KIemble that all his children should pursue his own laborious vocation. On the contrary he was much opposed to their going upon the stage, and in some instances took particular pains to pre vent it. This was the case with Charles, who received an excellent education, and for whom a place was procured in the London post-office. But it seemed as natural for a Kemble to act, as it is for an eagle to soar. They all appear to have possessed just that combination of form, feature, voice, presence, and temperament, which are fitted to charm and impress an audience. Charles Kemble was soon led to try the stage, upon which he rose gradually to a high, but never to the highest, position. He was the best lilght comedian of his time, and has perhaps never been surpassed in such characters as Benedick, Petruchio, Charles-Surface, Cassio, Faulconbridge, Edgar, and Marc Antony. He was also an excellent, though not a great, Hamlet. In due time he married a popular actress, Miss De Camp, who began her dramatic career as a member of the ballet troupe of the Italian Opera House in London. Two daughters were the fruit of this union,Frances Anne Kemble, the subject of this memoir, and Adelaide Kemble, -both of whom, after a short but striking career upon the stage, married gentlemen of fortune and retired to private life. Six weeks before the evening on which Miss Kemble made her first appearance in London, neither she nor her parents had ever thought of her attempting the stage. Charles Kemble was then manager of Covent Garden Theatre, one of the two great theatres of London. The plays which he presented did not prove attractive; the season threatened to end in disaster; and he looked anxiously about him for the means of restoring to the theatre its former prestige. His eldest

Page  107 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. daughter, Frances, was then eighteen years of age. Except that she had frequently heard her aunt, Mrs. Siddons, read the plays of Shakespeare, and had lived from her infancy in a family of actors, she had made no special preparation for the stage. She inherited, however, that fine presence, that admirable self-possession, that magnificent and flexible voice, for which the IKembles were distinguished. It suddenly occurred to the family that this brilliant and saucy girl, perhaps a little spoiled by parental fondness, might prove a great actress and save the failing fortunes of the family. The experiment was tried. In October, 1829, she made her first appearance. The play selected for the occasion was Romeo and Juliet, in which her father played the part of Romeo, her mother that of the nurse, and herself, Juliet. Her success was so remarkable, it was so evident that she possessed in an eminent degree the talent of the family, that, when the curtain descended at the close of the evening, she was felt to be, both before and behlind the curtain, an established favorite. I1er first success was followed by other triumphs. As Portia, in the Merchant of Venice, as Bianca, in the tragedy of Fazio, as Lady Teazle, in the School for Scandal, and in other parts of similar calibre, she shone without a rival; since, whatever may have been wvanting in the artist was amply atoned for, in the public mind, by the youthful grace and beauty of the woman. The house was nightly filled to overflowing. Her father was saved from bankruptcy, and the old popularity of the theatre was fully restored. A play which she had written in her seventeenth year, entitled Francis the First, was produced, and attained a certain success. Sheridan Knowles, then at the height of his renown as a dramatist, and in the full vigor of his powers, wrote for her his master-piece, the IHunchback, in which her popularity was almost beyond precedent. It Was after two years of such a life as this, when she was 107 II

Page  108 108 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. twenty-one years of age, that her father and herself crossed the Atlantic to make the usual tour of the American theatres. New York, as we have seen, gave her a cordial welcome, and sent her forth to the other cities relieved of all anxiety, to continue a career which was nothing but triumph. Fortunately for our present purpose, she kept a diary of this tour, the publication of which, in 1835, was one of the agreeable literary events of the year. Thirty-five years ago! The lifetime of but a single generation I And yet, what a different country does this diary reveal to us from the United States of to-day! WVhat a different person, too, was the dashing, vivacious, and spoiled child of the public of 1832, from the patient, mature, and lofty character which Mrs. Kemble has since attained! Her diary was amusing when it was published, but it is today a lesson in history She lived, during her first engagement in New York, at the American Hotel, on the corner of Barclay Street and Broadway, which was then considered the most elegant hotel in the city. She gives nevertheless a sorry account of it: The rooms were "a mixture of French finery and Irish disorder and dirt," and there was a scarcity, not only of servants, food, and space, but even of such common articles as knives and forks. "The servants," she adds, " who were just a quarter as many as the house required, had no bedroomns allotted to themn, but slept about anywhere in the public rooms, or on sofas, in drawing,-rooms let to private families. In short, nothing can exceed the want of order, propriety, and comfort in this establishment, except the enormity of the tribute it levies upon pilgrims and wayfarers through the land." To give the reader an idea, at once, of the character of Miss Kemble's style at the time, and of the startling changes which time has wrought in the country, I will here transcribe the accornt she gives of her first journey from New York to

Page  109 M3RS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. Philadelphia, which occurred on the 8th of October, 1832. The steamboat started from the foot of Barclay Street at halfpast six in the morning, which obliged the young lady and her father to get up long before daylight. This steamboat, which excited the special wonder of the party from its mag nitude and splendor, conveyed them as far as Perth Amboy. "At about half-past ten," she continues, "we reached the place where we leave the river, to proceed across a part of the State ef New Jersey, to the Delaware. The landing was beyond measure wretched; the shore shelved down to the water's edge; and its marshy, clayey, sticky soil, rendered doubly soft and squashy by the damp weather, was strown over with broken potsherds, stones, and bricks, by way of pathway; these, however, presently failed, and some slippery planks, half immersed in mud, were the only roads to the coaches that stood ready to receive the passengers of the steamboat. Oh, these coaches! English eye hath not seen, English ear hath not heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of Englishmen to conceive, the surpassing clumsiness and wretchedness of these leathern inconveniences! They are shaped something like boats, the sides being merely leathern pieces removable at pleasure, but which in bad weather are buttoned down to protect the inmates from the wet. There are three seats in this machine; the middle one having a movable leather strap, by way of a dossier, which runs between the carriage doors, and lifts away, to permit the egress and ingress of the occupants of the other seats. Into the one facing the horses D and I put ourselves; presently, two younlg ladies occupied the opposite one; a third lady and a gentleman of the same party sat in the middle seat, into which my faither's huge bulk was also squeezed; finally, another man belongingl, to the same party ensconced himself between the two young ladies. Thus the two seats were 109 II

Page  110 110 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. filled each with three persons, and there should by rights have been a third on ours; for this nefarious black hole on wheels is intended to carry nine. However, we profited little by the space; for, letting alone that there is not really and truly room for more than two human beings of common growth and proportions on each of these seats, the third place was amply filled up with baskets and packages of ours, and huge undouble-zc coats and cloaks of my father's. "For the first few minutes I thought I must have fainted from the intolerable sensation of smothering which I experienced. However, the leathers having been removed, and a little more air obtained, I took heart of grace and resigned myself to my fate. Away walloped the four horses, trotting with their front and galloping with their hind legs; and away went we after them, bumping, jumping, thumping, jolting, shaking, tossing, and tumbling, over the wvickedest road, I do think, the cruelcst, heard-heartedest road that ever wheel rumbled upon. Through bog, and marsh, and ruts, wider and deeper than any Christian ruts I ever saw, with the roots of trees protruding across our path, their boughs every now and then giving us an affectionate scratch through the windows; and, more than once, a half-demolishled trunk or stump lying in the middle of the road lifting us up, and letting us down again, with most awful variations of our poor coachbody from its natural position. Bones of me I what a road! Even my father's solid proportions could not keep their level, but were jerked up to the roof and down again every three minutes. Our companions seemed nothing dismayed by these wondrous'performances of a coach and four, but laughed and talked incessantly, the young ladies at the very top of their voices and with the national nasal twang. The conversation was much of the genteel shopkeeper kind, the wit of the ladies and the gallantry savoring strongly of tapes and yard meas

Page  111 MIRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. ures, and the shrieks of laughter of the whole set enough to drive one into a frenzy. The ladies were all pretty; two of them particularly so, with delicate, fair complexions, and beautifiul gray eyes. How I wish they could have held their tongues for two minutes! We had not long been in the coach before one of them complained of being dreadfully sick. This, in such a place and with seven near neighbors! Fortunately, she was near the window, and, during our whole fourteen miles of purgatory, she alternately leaned from it, overcome with sickness, then reclined languishingly il the arms of her next neighbor, and then starting up with amazing vivacity, joined her voice to the treble duet of her two pretty companions, with a superiority of shrillness that might have been the envy and pride of Billin(gsgate.'Twas enough to bother a rookery! The country through which we passed was woodland; flat and without variety, save what it derived from the wondrous richness and brilliancy of the autumnal foliage. Ihere, indeed, decay is beautiful; and nature Lappears more gorgeously clad in this her fading mantle, than in all the suimmer's flush of bloom in our less favored climates. I noted several beatitiful wild-flowvers growing, among the underwood, some of which I have seen adorning with great dignity our most cultivated gardens. None of the trees had any size or appearance of age; they are the second growth, which have spriung from the soil once possessed by a mightier race of vegetables. The quantity of mere underwood, and the number of huge black stumps, rising in every direction a foot or two from the soil, bear witness to the existence of fine forest timber. The few cottages and farmhouses which we passed reminded me of similar dwellings in France and Ireland; yet the peasantry here have not the same excuse for disorder and dilapidation as either the Irish or French. The farms had the same desolate, untidy, untended look; the gates broken, the fences III 0 v

Page  112 112 EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE. carelessly put uip or ill-repaired; the farming utensils sluttishly scattered about a littered yard, where the pigs seem to preside by undisputed right; house-windows broken and stuffed with paper or clothes; dishevelled women and barefooted, anomalouts-looking human young things. None of the stirring life and activity which such places present in Einglan( and Scotland; above all, none of the enchanting mixture of neatness, order, and rustic elegance and comfort, which render so picturesque the surroundings of a farm, and the vanioiIs belongings of agricultural labor in my own deal' coulltry. The fences struck me as peculiar. I never saw any such in England. They are made of rails of wood placed horizontally, and meeting at obtuse andgles, so forming a zigzag wall of wood, which runs over the country like the herri-ng,-bone seams of a flannel petticoat. At each of the angles, two slantiiln stakes, considerably higher than the rest of the fence were driven into the ground, crossing each other at the toip so as to secure the horizontal rails in their position. There was every now and then a soft, vivid strip of turf along, the roadside that made me long for a horse. Indeed, the whole road would have been a delightful ride, and was a most bitter drive. "At the end of fourteen miles, we turned into a swampy field, the whole fourteen coachfuls of us, and by the help of heaven, bag and baggage were packed into the coaches that stood on the railway ready to receive us. The carri,ages wvere not drawn by steam, like those on the Liverpool railway, but by horses, with the mere advantage in speed afforded by the iron ledges, which, to be sure, compared with our previous progress through the ruts, was considerable. Our coachful got into the first carriage of the train, escaping,, by way of especial grace, the dust whlich one's predeceCssors occasion. This vehicle had but two scats in the usual fashion, each of which held four of us. The wholc in

Page  113 DYRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. side was lined with blazing, scarlet leather, and the windvows shaded -with stuff curtains of the same refreshing color; which, with full complement of passengers, on a fine, sunny, American summer's day, must make as pretty a little miniature hell as may be, I should think. The ba-ggage-wagon, which went before us a little, obstructed the view. The road was neither pretty nor picturesque, but still fringed on each side with the many-colored woods, whose rich tints made variety even in sameness. This railroad is an infinite l)lessing;'tis not yet finished, but shortly will be so, and then the whole of that horrible fourteen miles will be performed in comfort and decency in less than half the time. "In about an hour and a half, we reached the end of our railroad part of the journey, and founld another steamboat waiting for us, when we all embarked on the Delaware. Again, the enormous width of the river, struck me with astoniishment and admiration. Such huge bodies of water mark out the country through which they run as the future abode of the most extensive commerce and greatest maritime power in the universe. The banks presented much the same features as those of the Raritan, though they were not quite so flat, and more diversified with scattered dwellings, villages, and towns. We passed Bristol and Burlingcton, stopping at each of them to take up passengers. I sat working, having finished my book, not a little discomfited by the pertinacious staring of some of my fellow-travellers. One woman in particular, after wandering round me in every direction, at last came and sat down opposite me, and literally gazed me out of countenance. "One improvement they have adopted on board these boats is, to forbid smoking, except in the forepart of the vessel. I wish they would suggest that if the gentlemen would refrain from spitting about, too, it would be highly agreeable to the female part of the community. The universal practice 8 113

Page  114 114 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. here of this disgusting trick makes me absolutely sick; every place is made a perfect piggery of, - street, stairs, steamboat, everywhere, - and behind the scenes, and on the stage at rehearsal. I have been shocked and annoyed beyond expression by this horrible custom. To-day, on board the boat, it was a perfect shower of saliva all the time; and I longed to be relieved from my fellowship with these very obnoxious chewers of tobacco. At about four o'clock we reached Philadelphia, having performed the journey between that and New York (a distance of a hundred miles), in less than ten hours, in spite of bogs, ruts, and all other impediments. The manager came to look after us and our goods, and we were presently stowed into a coach which conveyed us to the Mansion House, the best reputed inn in Philadelphia." Such was travelling in the United States, between our two largest cities, only thirty-five years ago! Such was Miss Kemble in the twenty-second year of her age! Some of the incidents of her tour in America were very amusing. Being exceedingly fond of riding on horseback, she gave a great impetus to the fashion of ladies' indulging in that pleasure. Particularly at Philadelphia, there was great hunting for good saddle-horses, which, Miss Kemble assures us in her diary, scarcely existed in the country at that time. A particular cap which she wore when riding was imitated and sold as "the Kemble cap." She appears, at that time, to have had a contempt for the beautiful art which she practised, and by which her family had become so distinguished. "-How I do loathe the stage! "she exclaims. " These wretched,-tawdry, glittering, rags flung, over the breathing -forms of ideal loveliness; these miserable, poor, and pitiful substitutes for the glories with which poetry has invested her ,nagno,ficent and fair creations. What a mass of wretched, mumming mimicry acting is! Pasteboard and paint, for

Page  115 * MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. the thick breathing orange-groves of the south; green silk and oiled parchment, for the solemn splendor of her noon of night; wooden platforms and canvas curtains, for the solid marble balconies and rich dark draperies of Juliet's sleeping chamber, that shrine of love and beauty; rouge, for the startled life-blood in the cheek of that young passionate woman; an actress, a mimicker, a sham creature, me, in fact, or any other one, for that loveliest and most wonderful conception, in which all that is true in nature and all that is exquisite in fancy are moulded into a living form! To act this! To act Romeo and Juliet! Horror! horror! How I do loathe my most impotent and unpoetical craft!" Ah! how necessary it is to know precisely in what mood, and in what circumstances, a passage was written, before we can tell how far it expresses the author's real and habitual sentiment. The sentences just quoted signify, chiefly, thai she had been just playing Juliet to a most awkward and abominable Romeo. In the last scene of the play, she tells us, she was so mad with the mode in which all the other scenes had been performed, that, lying over Romeo's dead body, and fumbling for his dagger, which she could not find, she thus addressed her dead lover: "Why, where the devil is your dagger, Mr.." In truth, she was not a little proud of her honorable and arduous vocation. She was not insensible to the magic of that art which enables an audience to forget that they are looking upon pasteboard and rouge, and to forg,et, also, that it is not the veritable Juliet who is moving them to rapture and to tears. Some of the best passages in Miss IKemble's diary are subtle disquisitions upon the art of acting. She had another mishap with her Romeo at Baltimore. The play went off pretty well on this occasion, she says in her humorous way, "except that they broke one man's collar bone, and nearly dislocated a woman's shoulder, by flinging 115

Page  116 116 EMINENT WOMIEN OF TItE AGE. the scenery about." She. gives the following absurd account of the conclusion of the play: "My bed was not made in time, and when the scene drew, half a dozen carpenters, in patched trowsers and tattered shirt-sleeves, were discovered smoothing down my pillows and adjusting my draperies. The last scene is too good not to be given verbatim: - "Ro o. Rise, rise, my Juliet, And from this care of death, this house of horror, Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms.' "Here he pounced upon me, plucked me up in his arms like an uncomfortable bundle, and staggered down the stage with me. "Juliet (aside). Oh, you've got me up horridly I that'll never do; let me down, pray let me down I "' RIomeo. There, breathe a vital spirit on thy lips, And call thee back, my soul, to life and love I' "Juliet (aside). Pray put me down; you'll certainly throw me down if you don't set me on the ground directly. "In the midst of' cruel, cursed fate,' his dagger fell out of his dress; I, embracing him tenderly, crammed it back again, because I knew I should want it at the end. " Romeo.'Tear not our heart-strings thus! They crack! they break! Juliet I Juliet! (dies).' "Juliet (to corpse). Am I smothering you? "Corpse (to Juliet). Not at all; could you be so kind, do you think, as to put my wig on for me? it has fallen off. " Juliet (to corpse). I'm afraid I can't, but I'll throw my muslin veil over it. You've broken the phial, haven't you? "(Corpse nodded). 4k

Page  117 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. "Juliet (to corpse). Where's your dagger? "Corpse (to Juliet).'Pon my soul, I don't know." It is curious to notice how prompt this young lady, who sometimes affected such a horror of the stage, was to defend it when attacked by another. She had a long conversation once with Dr. Channing on this subject, who thought that detached scenes and passages well declaimed could serve as a good substitute for the stage. The young actress at once took fire. "My horror," she says, "was so unutterable at this proposition, and my amazement so extreme that he should make it, that I believe my replies were all but incoherent. What! take one of Shakespeare's plays bit by bit, break it piecemeal, in order to make recitals of it! Destroy the marvellous unity of one of his magnificent works to make patches of declamation!... I remember hearing my Aunt Siddons read the scenes of the witches in Macbeth, and while doing so was obliged to cover my eyes, that her velvet gown, modern cap, and spectacles might not disturb the wild and sublime images that her magnificent voice and recitation were conjuring up around me." Miss IKemble's dramatic career in the United States was troubled by only one disagreeable incident, which occurred while she was playing an engagement at Washington. On returning to her hotel, one evening, from her usual ride, she found a man sitting with her father, and her father in a towering passion. There, sir," said Mr. Kemble, when she came in, "there is the young lady to speak for herself." And truly the young lady did so in a highly spirited man ner. "Fanny," continued her father, "somiething particularly disagreeable has occurred; pray can you call to mind anything you said during the course of your Thursday's ride 117

Page  118 118 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. which was likely to be offensive to Mr., or anything, abusive of this country?" Miss Kemble, who comprehended the situation at a glance, nntied her bonnet, and replied, with haughty nonchalance, that she did not recollect a word she had said during her whole ride, and should certainly not give herself any trouble to do so. Now, my dear," said her father, his own eyes flashing fire, "don't put yourself into a passion; compose yourself and recollect. Here is a letter I have just received." He read the letter, which proved to be a ridiculous and dastardly anonymous one, to the effect, that Miss Kemble had said during the ride in question, that she did not choose to ride an American gentleman's horse, and had offered the owner two dollars for the hire of it, and had otherwise spoken most disrespectfully of the American people. The letter proceeded to state that, unless something was done in the way of explanation or apology, she should be hissed off the stage that night the moment she appeared. The evenling came. The pit was littered with handbills from the same malicious and cowardly hand. The only effect was, that every time she appeared during the play the audience received her with a perfect uproar of applause. At the end of the second act, one of the handbills was brought to MIr. Kemble, who immediately went with it before the audience, and denounced it as an infamous falsehood. The play proceeded, and, when Miss Kemble next came upon the scene, the audience rose to their feet, waved their hats, and gave a succession of such thundering, cheers, that she burst into tears, and had extreme difficulty in going on with her part. Nor was this all. The public, justly indignant at this contemptible act of inhospitality to eminent artists from a foreign land, crowded the theatre during the rest of their engag,ement, and gave them two benefits of such an overwhelming,

Page  119 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. character, that a smart Yankee remarked, " He shouldn't wonder if Mr. Kemble had got up the whole thing himself." This visit to America had more important and lasting consequences than Miss Kemble had anticipated. Among the most ardent of her American admirers was a young gentleman of large fortune and ancient family, residing in a spacious mansion in Philadelphia. Pierce Butler was his name. He was a descendant of the famous Pierce Butler of South Carolina, whose history was so familiar to the public seventy years ago, but has long since been forgotten. Major Pierce Butler came to America before the Revolutionary war with one of the regiments sent over by the tory government to overawe rebellious Boston. He was an Irishman by descent, a scion of the ancient family, the head of which was the Duke of Ormond. Instead of assisting an obstinate and ignorant kidng to subdue the most loyal of his subjects, he had the good sense to embrace their cause. He resigned his commission, sold his property in Great Britain, and settled in South Carolina, where he purchased a very large estate in lands suited to the culture of rice and cotton. There he lived and flourished, a leading'planter and politician, from about the year 1780 until the time of his death in 1822. Ite was a democrat of the most decided type, a warm adherer of Jefferson, and a main stay of successive democratic administrations. It was the son of this distinguished man, the heir of his name and his estates, who was captivated by Miss Kemble's talents. His admiration of the actress became, at length, a passion for the woman, and he offered her his hand. Accord ing to the usual En,lish view of such matters, it was a bril liant offer; for, in England, no splendor of talent or fame, no worth of character, no extent of learning, nothing, is con sidered to place an individual on a par with one who possesses a large quantity of inherited land. This young man was at the head of society at Philadelphia. His estates in South 119

Page  120 120 EAMINENT WOMEEN OF THE AGE. Carolina he visited but seldom, and he lived at the Quaker capital the life of elegant and inglorious ease which is so captivating to the imagination of the toiling and anxious mul titude. Miis,s Kemble was so little acquainted with him and his affairs that she did not know the nature of his property. She did not know that he derived his whole inconme from the unrequited toil of slaves, extorted from them by the lash. She did not know that he owned one slave. It so happened that she had brought with her from her English home a pa)ticula? abhorrence of slavery, and the feeling was increased in America by what she casually heard of the condition and treatment of the negroes. Several passages in her diary, written before she ever saw the face of this Pierce Butler, prove her utter detestation of slavery. But who can avoid his destiny? In an evil hour, she turned her back upon her noble art, upon the public that admired and honored her, upon her country, too, and gave her hand to this democratic lord of seven hundred slaves. All the world congratulated her. She was thought to have made a most brilliant match, -she, the woman of genius ati feeling, the heir of an illustrious name, which she had rrored herself worthy to bear! For a time, all went well. Children were born. Women of a certain calibre are not long in discovering the quality of their husbands; and it is highly probable, that Frances Anne Kemble had taken the measure of Pierce Butler before the events occurred which led to their estrang,ement. In the fourth year of their marriage, in Deceml)er, 1838, the family, for the first time since the marriage, went together to spend the winter upon the Butler plantations in South Carolina. She recorded her impressions at the time in a diary, according to her custom, which diary has been recently published. What a contrast between this work, written in 1839, ar d her other diarv written in 1832 and 1833! In the first, there is X f?od

Page  121 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. deal of immaturity, a little affectation, perhaps, and, occasionally, a certain lack of the refinement and dignity which belong to the well-bred woman. We see the favorite actress a little spoiled by her sudden and great celebrity, though full of the elements of all that is high and great in the character of woman. In the second diary, we find those clements developed. Disappointment,- the greatest a woman can know, - the discovery that her mate is not her equal, had imparted a premature maturity and an unusual depth of reflection to the matron of twenty-seven. Her record of this winter's residence in South Carolina, among her husband's slaves, is the best contribution ever made by an individual, to oui knowledge, of the practical working of the slave system in the United States. One of her friends cautioned her not to go down to her husband's plantation "prejudiced" against what she was to find there. "Assuredly," she replied, "I am going prejudiced against slavery, for I am an Englishwoman, in whom the absence of such a prejudice would be disgraceful. Nevertheless, I go prepared to find many mitigations in the practice to the general injustice and cruelty of the system,- much kindness on the part of the masters, much content on that of the slaves." She was disappointed. She discovered that slavery was all cruelty. The very kindness shown to slaves did but aggravate their sufferings, because that kindness was necessarilyj fitful and capricious, and was liable at any moment to terminate. With those fresh and honest eyes of hers she lookel through all the sophistry of the masters, and saw the system exactly as it was. They told her, for example, that the large families of the slaves were a proof of their good treatment and welfare. "No such thing," she replied. "If you will reflect for a moment upon the overgrown families of the half-starved Irish peasantry and English manufacturers, you rill agree with me 121

Page  122 122 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. that these prolific shoots by no means necessarily spring, from a rich or healthy soil. Peace and plenty are certainly causes of human increase, and so is recklessness; and this, I take it, is the impulse in the instance of the English manufacturer, the Irish peasant, and the negro slave... None of the cares, -those noble cares, that holy thoughtfulness which lifts the human above the brute parent,- are ever incurred here by either father or mother. The relation indeed resembles, as far as circumstances can possibly make it do so, the shortlived comnnection between the animal and its young. The father, having neither authority, power, responsibility, nor charge in his children, is, of course, as among brutes, the least attached to his offspring; the mother, by the natural law which renders the infant dependent on her for its first year's nourishment, is more so; but, as neither of them is bound to educate or to support their children, all the unspeakable tenderness and solemnity, all the rational, and all the spiritual grace and glory of the connection is lost, and it becomes mere breeding, bearing, suckling, and there an end. But it is not only the absence of the conditions which God has affixed to the relation which tends to encourage the reckless increase of the race; they enjoy, by means of numerous children, certain positive advantages. In the first place, every woman who is pregnant, as soon as she chooses to make the fact known to the overseer, is relieved of a certain portion of her work in the field, which lightening of labor continues, of course, as long as she is so burdened. On the birth of a child certain additions of clothing and an additional weekly ration are bestowed on the family; and these matters, small as they may seem, act as powerful inducements to creatures who have none of the restraining influences actuating, them which belong to the parental relation among all other people, whether civilized or savage. Moreover, they have all of them a most distinct and perfect knowledge of

Page  123 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. their value to their owners as property; and a woman tikiaks, and not much amiss, that the more frequently she adds to the number of her master's live-stock by bringing new slaves into the world, the more claims she will have upon his consideration and good-will. This was perfectly evident to me from the meritorious air with which the women always made haste to inform me of the number of children they had borne, and the frequent occasions on which the older slaves would direct my attention to their children, exclaiming,'Look, muissis! Little ni,ggers for you and massa; plenty little niggers for you and little missis!' A very agreeable apostrophe to me, indeed, as you will believe." Of the cruelty commnitted upon this estate she gives ample details, which need not be repeated here. I1er husband's negroes were considered fortunate by those upon surrounding plantations, and yet almost everything that she saw and heard during her residence among them filled her with grief and horror. What surprised her very much was, the low physical condition of the colored people, and the great mortality among the children. This was partly owing to insufficient and innutritious food, but chiefly to the incessant childbearing of the women. She found mothers who were fifteen years of age, and grandmothers who were thirty. She found women in middle life who had borne from twelve to sixteen children. One cause of intense misery was compelling the women to return to their labor in the field three weeks after confinement. In short, the whole system, and all its details and circumstances, excited in her nothing but the most profound and passionate repugnance. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth will speak, and, especially, a woman's mouth I She remonstrated with her husband uponl the cruelties practised almost in his very presence. She might as well have addressed her remonstrances to one of his own palmetto-trees. Once, when she 123

Page  124 124: EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. had related to him a peculiarly aggravated atrocity commit. ted upon the mother of a family, he replied, that, no doubt, the punisLmeut inflicted upon the woman was "disagreeable." At other times, he would say, " Why do you listen to such stuff? Why do you believe such trash? Don't you know the nicggers are all d d liars?" At length, he commanded her never to speak to him upon the subject again, never to try to stand between a defenceless female slave and the overseer's withering lash. This was almost beyond bearing. Read one passage from her diary: "I have had an uninterrupted stream of women and children flowing ill the whole morning to say,'Ha, de missis.' Amuong others, a poor woman called Mile, who could hardly stand for pain and swelling in her limbs; she had had fifteen children; nine of her children had died; for the last three years she had become almost a cripple with chronic rheumatism, yet she is driven every day to work in the field. She held my hands, and stroked them in the most appealing way, while she exclaimed,'O my missis! my missis! me neber sleep till day for de pain,' and with the day her labor must again be resumed. I gave her flannel and sal-volatile to rub her poor swelled limbs with; rest I could not give her, -rest from her labor and her pain, - this mother of fifteen children. I went out to try and walk off some of the weilght of horror and depression which I am beginning to feel daily more and more, surrounded by all this misery and degradation that I can neither help nor hinder." In addition to all this, she could not be ignorant that her young husband degraded himself and dishonored her, as the young planters of the South were accustomed to degrade themselves, and dish)onor their wives.

Page  125 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. I shall not dwell here upon what followed. The difference of opinion, or rather of feeling, upon this subject of slavery- so vital to them as slave-owners - ended at last in complete an(] bitter estrangement. A separation followed. Mrs. Kemble retired to the beautiful village of Lennox in Massachusetts, where she occasionally had the pleasure of associating with her children, and where she was the delight and ornament of a large circle. Nor was the public entirely deprived of the benefit of her talents. Inheriting from her father an amplitude of person which time did not diminish, she was no longer fitted to resume her place upon the stage. She has given, however, as every one knows, series of readiigos from Shakespeare and other authors, in the principal cities of the United States and Great Britain. One happy year she spent in Italy, and, according to her habit, made her residence there the subject of a volume of poetry and prose, which she entitled "A year of Consolation." During our late civil war she resided in England. She was true to the country of her adoption, and rendered to it the most timely and valuable services. In the midst of the hostility against the North which prevailed among the educated classes in England, she wrote a most eloquent and powerful vindication of the United States for the "London Times;" and, about the period when the question of Emancipation was agitating all minds, she gave to the public her Southern diary, which had been in manuscript more than twenty years. The last two sentences of this work will serve to show that at the darkest period of the war, when all but the stoutest hearts felt some misgivings as to the final result, this brave and high-minded woman had undiminished faith in the final triumph of the right. They are these: "Admonished by its terrible experience, I believe the nation will reunite itself under one government, remodel the 125

Page  126 126 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Constitution, and again address itself to fulfil its glorious destiny. I believe that the country sprung from ours - of all our just subjects of national pride the greatest- -will resume its career of prosperity and power, and become the noblest as well as the mightiest that has existed among the nations of the earth." Mrs. Kemble is now fifty-seven years of age, but neither the vigor of her body nor the brilliancy of her talents has undergone any perceptible diminution. Her readings have been, for nearly twenty years, among the most refined and instructive pleasures accessible to the public, and they still attract audiences of the highest character. I had the pleasure of hearing her read ill the city of New York, in March, 1868. It was the coldest night of the year; the streets were heaped high with snow, and a cutting north-west wind was blowing. Notwithstanding these adverse circumstances, which thinned every place of amusement in the city, more than a thousand people assembled in Steinway Iall to listen once more to this last and best of the Kembles. The play was Coriolanus, one of the most effective for her purpose, in the whole range of the drama. When she presented herself upon the platform and took her usual seat behind a small low table, she looked the very picture of one of the noble Roman matrons whose grand and passionate words she was about to uttter. As she sat, she appeared to be above the usual stature of women, although in fact she is not. Her person, although finely developed, has in no degree the appearance of corpulence. Her hair, naturally dark, has been so delicately touched by time, that the frost of years looks like a sprinkling of the powder which has lately been in fashion again. Her face is fuill and ruddy, indicating high health, and her features are upon that large and grand scale for which her family have been always remnarkliable, and which call to mind the fact that

Page  127 MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE. the Romans once ruled in England. Her voice is exceed. niigly fine, being ample in quantity as well as harmonious and flexil)e. On this occasion, she was attired in a dress of plain black silk, relieved only by a narrow lace collar around the neck, which was fastened by a small plain gold pin. Nothing can exceed the force, beauty, and variety of her reading; she is perhaps the only person, who has yet practised this art, that can hold a large audience attentive an(l satisfied during the reading of a play. Like all genuine artists, Mrs. K,emble marks an habitual respect for the public whom she serves. Her low courtesy to the audience, and her pleasant, respectful way of addressing them when she has occasion to do so, are in striking contrast with the ridiculous and insolent airs which some of the spoiled children of the opera sometimes give themselves. Her dress varies with the play she is to read. When the Midsummer Night's Dream is the play, she wears a bridal dress of white silk adorned with lace. Her self-possession in the presence of an audience is complete, and although she exerts herself to please them with far more than the energy of a novice, no one is aware of the fact, and she seems to enchant us without an effort. 127

Page  128 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. THE city of Malaga, in Spain,. was the birthplace of Eug6nie, the Empress of the French. This quaint old Moorish town, containing about sixty thousand inhabitants, is situated on the shores of the Mediterranean, at the head of a bay which constitutes so fine a harbor that the city has been, for centuries, one of the most important seaports of the Spanish peninsula. Bleak, barren, rugged mountains encircle the city, approaching so near to the sea that there is scarcely room for the streets of massive, lofty stone houses, which are spread along the shore. These streets, as in all the old Moorish towns, are very narrow, many of them being not more than six or eight feet wide. The houses are large and high, and are built around a court-yard. The ruins of ancient fortifications and the battlements of a fine old Moorish castle add to the picturesque beauties of the crags, which rise sublimely in the rear of the town. The climate is almost tropical, and the market abounds with all the fruits and vegetables which ripen beneath an equatorial sun. Though most of the city presents but a labyrinth of intricate and narrow streets, there is one square around which the buildings are truly magnificent. This square, or public walk, called the Alameda, is the favorite resort of all the fashion and gayety and pleasure-seeking of the city. 128

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Page  129 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 129 In the street of St. Juan de Dios, of Malaga, there was, in the early part of the present century, a wealthy, intelligent, and very attractive family residing in one of the most stately mansions. The master of the house was an opulent merchant from England, William Kirkpatrick, a Scotchman by birth. He had been the English consull at Malaga, and had married a young lady of Malaga, of remarkable beauty both of form and feature, Francisca Gravisne, the daughter of one of the ancient Spanish families. They had three daughters, all of whom inherited the beauty, grace, andl vivacity of their mother, blended with the strong sense and solid virtues of the father. The eldest of these daulghters, Mtria, was a young lady of extraordinary beauty. She was tall, with features as if chiselled by a Grecian sculptor, I)etaming with animiation, with brilliant eyes, ready wit, and possessing perfect command of all the graees of language and the attractions of matnner. Blended Saxon and Spanish blood circled in her veins and glowed in her cheeks. Her exquisitely moulded form is represented to have been perfect. IHer two younger sisters, Carlotta and Henriquetta, were also fatr-famned for beauty, grace, intelligence, and all those virtues which give attractions to the social circle. Mr. Kirkpatrick was erngaged in extensive commerce with England and America. His circle of acquaintance was consequently very extensive. All foreigners of distinction were welcomed to his hospitable board; and it was also the resort of the most refined andl aristocratic native society of Malaga. Among the guests who visited in this attractive faimily there was a Spanish noble, alike illustrious for his exalted birth, his large fortune, and his military prowess. A scar upon his face and a crippled limb were honorable wounds, which gave him additional claims to pre-eminence. He had joined the army of Napoleon, in the endeavor to liberate Spain from the despotism of the Bourbons. He was then known 9 1

Page  130 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. by the name of Cipriano Palafox, Count of Theba. A strono attachment sprang, up between this member of one of the old Spanish families and Senorita AIaria Kirkpatrick, the datughter of the wealthy English merchant. They were married in 1819. This marriage secured for the beautiful and highly accomplished Maria all the advantages which wealth and rank could confer. The count took his young and lovely bride, who was some years younger than himself, to Madrid, and presented her at court. She had enjoyed the adva,ntages of both a Spanish and an English education. Her beauty, intelligence, and varied accomplishments rendered her a great favorite with the queen, Maria Cliristina, and she was elevated to the most influential post almong the feminine offices,that of first lady of hlonor. Her husband, Count Theba, soon received additional wealth and lhonllor, inheriting fironom a deceased brother tlhe title and estates of the Count of Mlontijo. Maria's sister, Carlotta, soon after married an English gentleman, her cousin Thomas, the son of her father's b)rother, John Kirkpatrick. This gentleman had accompanied Wellington to Spain, and had served as paymaster to the English army until 1814. As MIaria's husband had espoused the cause of Napoleon, and had shed his blood in fighting against Wellington, the two extremes of political antagonism were represented in the family; and yet, so far as we can learn, harmoniously represented, for the passions which had inflamed that deadly conflict yielded to the ties of family affection. Both Thomas and his wife are now dead. The third daughter, Henriquetta, married Count Cabarras, a very wealthy Spanish sugar-planter, residing near Velez Mlalaga. Her lot has been peculiarly tranquil and happy. She is probably, at the time of this writing, residing in pleasant retirement, with her husband, on their beautiful estate 130

Page  131 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 13 in the south of sunny Spain, in the enjoyment of opulence and high position. The Empress Enugenie is the daughter of the elder sister, Maria Kirkpatrick, and of Cipriano Palafox, double Count of Theba and of Montijo. She was born the 5thl of May, 1826. English and Spanish blood are mingled in her veins. She has enjoyed all the advantages of an Engllish, a French, and a Spanish education. She is faimiliar with the literature and the best society of the three realms, and in her person and features there are blended, in a remarkable degree, the grace and beauty of the highest specimens of the Spanish and Saxon races. The death of her father, a few weeks before her birth, left Euoe'1iie an orphan in her earliest infancy. But she was blest with the trailning of a very excellent and highly educated mother. It is said that a part of her education was acquired in Ellnland, and that she has enjoyed the advantages of the best schools in France. Thus she speaks English, Spanish, and Frenchl with equal fluency. There is no court ill Europe where the claims of etiquette are more rigidly observed than in the royal palaces of Miladrid. Eugenie, fiom childhood, has been so accustomed to all these forms, that she moves through the splendors of the Tuileries with ease and grace which charm every beholder. John IKirkpatrick, who had married Etginnie's aunt, Carlotta, became subsequently a banker in Paris. Il the year 1851, Alaria the Countess of Montijo, with her daughlter Eugenie, the Countess of Theba, visited Paris. The marvellous loveliness of Eugenie, the ease, grace, and perfect polish of her address, and her vivacity and wide intelligence, surrounded her with admirers. The classical regularity of her features, her exquisitely moulded form, her rich, soft auburn hair, and her large, expressive black eyes, arrested the attelntion of ev ery observer. Equally at home in several languages,

Page  132 132 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. and endowed with great powers of conversation and of ftasci. nation, the most distinguished, of all lands, gathered around her, rendering her that homage which genius everywhere yields to the perfection of feminine charms. One familiar with her has said: " Her beauty was delicate and fair, from her English ancestry; while her grace was all Spanish, and her wit all French. These made her one of the most remarkable women in the French capital, though her independence of character and her Eng,lish habits imparted to her more liberty of action than the restraints imposed on French demoiselles allow, and therefore exposed her to remark. There is not one well authenticated adventure which can be told to her disadvantage. The empress, besides her brilliant qualities, which make her the most lovely sovereign in Europe, is kind and generous; and in the few opportunities to test her higher qualities has displayed great courage and sense." The emperor did not escape the fascination which all alike felt. The countess became the most brilliant ornament of the gay assemblies of the Tuileries; and when she rode along the Boulevards or the Champs Elysee, all eyes were riveted upon her. It is to the present day alike the testimony of all, who are favored with her acquaintance, that she is as amiable and as lovely in character as she is beautiful in person. No one can behold her countenance, beaming with intelligence, and witness her sweet smile, without the assurance that Eugenie is richly endowed with the most attractive graces which can adorn humanity. The Countess of Theba, Eugenie, had been educated a Catholic, and was reputed an earnest Christian of the Fenelon type. God only can judge the heart; but externally she manifested the utmost devotion to the claims of religion, and i

Page  133 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 133 was scrupulous in the observance of the rites of the church. The cavillers said, "she is a very rigid Catholic." The devout said, "she is a very earnest Christian." All alike acknowledg,ed that she was the foe of irreligion in every form, and that the prosperity of the Church, in that great branch of Christianity to which she belonged, was dear to her heart. It is reported that the Emperor of the French had previously met Eug,enie, and admired her in the court circles of London, when he was an exile from his native land. Hie gave her a cordial welcome at the palace of the Tuileries, and friendship soon ripened into love. The marked religious character of Eugenie awakened sympathy in the bosom of the emperor. He had often taken occasion to say, in his public addresses, that while others had sustained Christianity as a "measure of state," as a "political necessity," he supported Christianity from a full conviction of its divine origin, and as thus indispensable to the welfare of nations and of men. It is probable that the emperor, more familiar with the world, and having studied the workings of Protestant forms of Christianity in Englanld and America, is more liberal in his denominational views. Still he regards Catholicism as the religion of France, and, while advocating the most perfect fireedom of conscience, recognizes the papal church as the denomination to which he belongs, and to which he should give his fostering care. Thus the emperor and Eugenie found a bond of union in their religious convictions. On the 22d of January, 1853, the emperor, in the following communication to the Senate, announced that Euge'nie, the Countess of Theba, had consented to share with him the throne, in becoming his partner for life: — "GENTLEMEN: - I yield myself to the wish so often mailifested by the country in announcing to you my marriage. The union I contract is not in accord with the traditions of

Page  134 134 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the ancient policy. In that is its advantage. France, by her successive revolutions, is always rudely separated from the rest of Europe. Every sensible government should seek to introduce her td the bosom of the old monarchies. 13ut this result will be much more surely attained by a policy just and frank, and by loyalty of transactions, than by royal alliances which create false security and often substitute the interest of families for the national interest. Moreover the examples of the past have left upon the minds of the people superstitious impressions. They have not forgotten that, for seventy years, foreign princes have ascended the steps of the throne, only to see their race dispersed or proscribed by war or by revolution. One woman only has seemed to bring happiness to France, and to live, more than others, in the memory of the people; and that woman, Josephine, the modest and excellent wife of General Bonaparte, was not of royal blood. "We must, however, admit that the marriage, in 1810, of ]Napoleon Bonaparte with MIalia Louisa was a great event. It was a pledge for the future, a true satisfaction to the national pride, since the ancient and illustrious house of Austria, with which we had so long waged war, was seen to solicit an alliance with the elected chief of a new empire. Under the last reilgn, on the contrary, did not the self-love of the country suffer when the heir of the crown solicited, in vain, during many years, the alliance of a royal house, and obtained, at last, a princess, accomplished, undoubtedly, but only in the secondary ranks, and of another religion? "When, in the face' of ancient Europe, one is borne, by the force of a new principle, to the height of the ancient dynasties, it is not ill endeavoring to give antiquity to his heraldry, and in seeking to introduce himself, at whatever cost, into the family of kings, that one can make himself accepted. It is much more, in ever remembering his origin, in maintaining, his appropriate character, and in taking, frankly, in

Page  135 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF TIlE FRENCH. 135 the face of Europe, the position of a parvenut, -a glorious title when one attains it by the free suffrage of a great people. "Thus obliged to turn aside from the precedents, followed until this day, my marriage becomes but a private affair. There remains only the choice of the person. The one who has become the object of my preference is of elevated birth. French in heart, and by the recollection of the blood shed by her father in tihe cause of the empire, she has, as a Spaniard, the advantage of not having, in France, a family to whom it might be necessary to give honors and dignities. Endowed with all the qualities of the mind, she will be the ornament of the throne, as, in the day of danger, she will become one of its most courageous supports. Catholic and pious, she will address the same prayers to Heaven with me for the happiness of France. By her grace and her goodness she will, I firmly hope, endeavor to revive, in the same position, the virtues of the Empress Josephine. "I come then, gentlemen, to say to France, that I have preferred the woman whom I love, and whom I respect, to one who is unknliown, whose alliance would have advantages mingled with sacrifices. Without testifyinug disdain for any one, I yield to my inclinations, after having, consl]ted my reason and my convictions. In tine, by placing independence, the qualities of the heart, domestic happiness, above dynastic prejudices and the calculations of nambition, I shall not be less strong because I shall be more free. Soon, in repairing to Notre Dame, I shall present the empress to the people and to the army. The confidence they have in me assures me of their sympathy. And you, gentlemen, on knowing her whom I have chosen, will agree that, on this occasion again, I have been guided by Providence." In France, marriage is regarded both as a civil and a relig 4

Page  136 136 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ious rite, and both ceremonies are often accompanied with great solemnity and pomp. The marriage of the Emperor and Eugenie, the Countess of Theba, was celebrated at the Tuileries, on the 27th of Janutary, 1853. The next day, which was Sunday, the religious ceremonies took place, with great splendor, at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. The Archbishop of Paris officiated. Probably a more brilliant assembly was never convened ill France, or in the world, than the throng which then filled, to its utmost capacity, that venerable and capacious edifice. All the courts of Europe were represented, and nothing was wantilng which wealth and rank and power and taste could give to contribute to the attractions of the spectacle. " All the pomp of the Catholic service, all the opulence of the capital, all the beauty and brilliance of the court, all the grim majesty of the military, whatever was illustrious in science and art, every resource of celelbrity, fascination, and lavish luxury were exhausted on the incidents and displays of this felicitous day. The imperial couple sat on two thrones erected in front of the high altar. Sublime and heavenly melody resounded beneath the lofty arches of the ancient pile. A numerous and gorCgeous array of priests assisted. The great representatives of the army, of the senate, of the municipal authorities, of the diplomatic corps, delegations from the great cities of France, and the most brilliant and beautiful female leaders of fashion in the capital,- all were there. The agitation of the young empress, the focus of so many inquisitive eyes, during the ceremony, was extreme. It was necessary for the emperor to soothe and allay her emotions. All passed off happily and favorably; and everybody, except the fierce and implacable leaders of the dark and desperate factions, rejoiced at the consummation of the imperial nuptials." These were nuptials inspired on both sides by affection and

Page  137 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 137 esteem, and they have been followed, apparently, with far more happiness than has usually been found in a palace. The union of the emperor and Eug^niie was a union of hearts. The emperor signalized his marriage by granlting amnesty to nearly five thousand persons who were in banishment for political offences. The empress has proved herself all that France could desire in one occupying her exalted position. The nation is proud of the grace, beauty, and accomplishments which have now for fifteen years rendered Eugenie not only the brightest ornament of the Tuileries, but the most conspicuous queen of Europe. A sincere Christian, devotedly attached to the recognized Christian faith of France, - the faith in which she was born and educated, -she secures the homage of all the millions who bow before the supremacy of the Catholic religion; and her influence, iln the court, has ever been ennobling and purifying. In more than one scene of danger Eugenic has proved herself the possessor of that heroism which sheds such an addi tional lustre upon one destined to the highest walks of earthly life. Asa wife, as a mother, and as an empress, history must award to Eugenie a very high position of merit. The city of Paris voted the empress, upon the occasion of her marriagce, a large sum- we think about six hundred thousand dollars -for the purchase of diamonds. It was a matter even of national pride that the Empress of France, the bride of the people's emperor, should be splendidly arrayed. But there was no one who could more easily forego these adornings than Euge'nie. The glitter of gems could add but little to that loveliness which captivated all beholders. Eug6enie had ample wealth of her own. The emperor had a well-filled purse. There was no danger that her jewel caskets would be empty. Gratefully Euge'nie accepted the munificent gift, having first obtained the consent of the donors that she should devote

Page  138 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. it to founding a charitable institution for the education of young girls belonging to the working classes. Here she watches over her sisters of humbler birth, with heartfelt sympathy, alike interested in their physical, mental, and religious culture. In the year 1855 the emperor and Euge'nie visited the court of Queen Victoria. They were received with every possible demonstration of enthusiasm. England seemed to wish to blot out the memory of Waterloo, and to atone for the wrongs she had inflicted upon the first Napoleon, by the cordiality with which she greeted and the hospitality with which she entertained his successor and heir. There was English blood in the veins of Eug,e6uie, and English traits adorned her character. It is not too much to say that she was universally admired in the court of St. James. The London journals of that day were full of expressions of admiration. It was said that Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle were never honored with the presence of a guest more truly queenly. In purity of character, in sincerity of Christian faith, Euge'nie and Victoria must have found mutual sympathy, though one was a conmm]nficant of the Church of England, and the other of the Church of Rome. Eugenie loved England. Her grandfather was an Englishman. Many of her dearest relatives were English;much of her education was English. The emperor, a man of warm affections, could not forget the hospitable welcome he had received in London, when an exile, banished by Bourbon law from his own country, simply because his name was Napoleon Bonaparte. The emperor has also ever been ready to render the tribute of his admiration to the institutions of England. Thus both Louis Napoleon and Eugenie could be happy as the guests of Queen Victoria. There was moral sublimity in the event itself. It constituted a new era in the history of the rival nations. The Emperor of France and the Queen 138

Page  139 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FIENCIE 139 of Eng(land met in the palaces of the British kings, and France left a kiss upon the cheek of England. The kiss was given and received in perfect sincerity. On both sides it expressed the hope that war should be no more,-that henceforth France and Eng,land should live in peace, in co-operation, in friendship. This visit of the emperor and empress to the court of England's queen is said to have been the first instance in the world in which a reigning French monarch set foot upon the soil of his hereditary foes. Not long after this Queen Victoria and Prince Albert returned the compliment, and England's queen became the guest of EuLe6nie at the Tuileries, St. Cloud, and Fontainebleau. Victoria was received by the Parisian population, in the Champs Elysee and along the Boulevards, with the same enthusiasm, with the same tumultuous and joyful acclaim with which Euge6nie had been received in the streets of London. There is no city in the world so well adapted to festal occasions as Paris. All the resources of that brilliant capital were called into requisition to invest the scene with splendor. The pageant summoned multitudes to Paris firom all the courts of Europe. On the 16th of March, 1856, the Empress Eugenie gave birth to her first and only child. The young prilnce received the baptismal name of Napoleon Eugene Louis Jean Joseph. His birth caused treat joy thlroug(hotlt France, as it would leave the line of succession undisputed. This gave increasing assurance that France, upon the decease of the emperor, would be saved from insurrection and the conflict of parties. From all parts of France congratulations were addressed to the emperor. In the emperor's reply to the Senate he said: — "The Senate has shared my joy on learning that Heaven has given me a son; and you have hailed, as a propitious event, the birth of a child of France. It is intentionally that

Page  140 140 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. I use that expression. It is because, gentlemen, when an heir is born, who is destined to perpetuate a national system, that child is not only the scion of a family, but he is, also, in truth, the son of the whole country, and that name indicates his duties. If this were true under the ancient monarchy, which represented more exclusively the privileged classes, how much more is it so now, when the sovereign is the elect of the nation, the first citizen of the country, and the representative of the interests of all. I thank you for the prayers you have offered for the child of France and for the empress." To the congratulations of the Legislative Corps the emperor responded: "I have been much affected by the manifestation of your feelings at the birth of the son whom Providence has so kindly granted me. You have hailed in him the hope, so eagerly entertained, of the perpetuity of a system which is regarded as the surest guaranty of the general interests of the country. But the unanimous acclamatious which surround his cradle do not prevent me from reflecting on the destiny of those who have been in the same place, and under similar circumstances. If I hope that his lot may be more happy, it is, in the first place, because, confiding in Providence, I cannot doubt its protection, when, seeing it raise up, by a concurrence of extraordinary circumstance, all that which Providence was pleased to cast down forty years ago; as if it had wished to strengthen, by martyrdom and by suffering,, a new dynasty springing from the ranks of the people. This child, consecrated in its cradle by the peace now at hand, and by the benedictions of the Holy Father, brought by telegraph an hour after his birth; in fine, by the acclamnations of the French people, whom the emperor loved so well, - this

Page  141 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FfENCE. 141 child I hope will prove worthy of the destinies which await him." No man can be in power without having bitter enemies. There have been a few attempts at the assassination of Louis Napoleon. The most desperate was that of Orsini, an Italian refugee. This wretch and his two confederates, with their murderous hand-grenades, hesitated not to strike down in bloody death scores of gentlemnen and ladies crowding the avenues to the opera, if they could thus reach the single victim at whom they aimed. On the evening of the 14th of January, 1858, as the emperor and empress were approaching the Grand Opera in their carriage, accompanied by many of the dignitaries of the court, and followed and preceded by a crowd of carriages, just as they drew near the opera house, where the throng was greatest and the speed of the horses was checked into a slow walk, these assassins threw beneath the imperial carriage several bombs, or hand-grenades of terrific power. These balls, each about the size of an ostrich's egg, were ingeniously constructed so as to burst by the concussion of their fall. The explosion was dreadful in power and deadly in its effects. The street was immediately strown for quite a distance with the dead and the mutilated bodies of men and horses. The imperial carriage was tossed and rocked as if upon the billows of a stormy sea. The glasses were shivered and the wood-work splintered; and yet, as by a miracle, both the emperor and empress escaped without any serious injury. The Empress Eugenie manifested, in the midst of this tumult, a spirit of calmness and heroism worthy of her exalted position. Shrieks and groans resounded all around her. She knew not but that the emperor was mortally wounded. But without any outcry, without any fainting, she seemed to forget herself entirely, in anxiety for her spouse. When some

Page  142 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. persons attempted to break open the door of the shattered vehicle, Eug,enie, supposing them to be the assassins, with their poniards in their hands, thew herself before the enmperor, that with her own body she might protect him from the da,gg,er-thrusts. Blefore this attempt at assassination Eugenie was greatly beloved by all France. But the heroism which she manifested on this occasion added to that love emotions of profound homage and admiration. Even the imperial throne was strengthened by the conviction that the empress was equal to any emergency; and that, should disaster darken upon the empire, as in the past, Eugenie, unlike Maria Louisa, the daughter of the Cesars," would develop the imperial nature with which God had endowed her, and would be equal to her responsibilities, however weighty they might be. On the 3d of May, 1859, the emperor announced to the French people that he was about to leave France, to take command of the army of Italy. In the announcement he said: -- "The object of this war is to restore Italy to herself, and not to cause her to change masters. We shall then have, upon our frontiers, a friendly people who will also owe to us their independence." On the 10th of May the emperor, after having appointed the Empress Eugenie regent during his absence, and having solemnly confided her and also their son to the valor of the army, the patriotism of the national guard, and to the love and devotion of the entire nation, was prepared to leave the Tuileries for his Italian campaign. It was five o'clock in the afternoon of a beautiful May day. The carriage of the emperor, an open barouche, stood before the grand entrance of the palace. A brilliant retinue of carriages, filled with the military household of the emperor, was also in line in the court-yard. A mounted squadron of the -142

Page  143 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCE. 143 guards, glittering with burnished helmets and coats of mail, was gathered there, in military array, to escort the cortege through the Rue Rivoli, the Place de la Bastile, and the Rue de Lyon to the railway station for Marseilles. An immense crowd of the populace was gathered in the court-yard to witness the departure of the emperor. A few minutes after five o'clock several officers of the emperor's household descended the stairs, followed immediately by the emperor, with the empress leaning upon his arm. They were followed by several ladies and gentlemen of the court. As soon as the emperor and empress appeared the air was rent with shouts of " Vive l'Empereur," which burst from the lips of the crowd. The emperor uncovered his head and waved his hat in response to this cordial greeting. Then, bidding them adieu, and shaking hands with several of the ladies, he handed the empress into the carriage and took a seat by her side. The imperial cortege then left the courtyard, passing out through the triumphal arch. The emperor was int a simple travelling dress, and wore a cap which permitted every expression of his countenance to be distinctly seen. He was apparently calm, and a smile was upon his lips as he met the ever-increasing enthusiasm of the crowd. But the eyes of Eu,genie were red and swollen, and she could not conceal the tears which rolled down her cheeks. With one hand she lovingly clasped the hand of the emperor, while with the other she frequently wiped away the tears which would gush from her eyes. The guards followed the carriage, but did not surround it. The crowd was so great that the horses could only advance on the slow walk. Consequently the people came up to the very steps of the carriage and many addressed words to the emperor, of sympathy and affection. It was a very touching scene. The crowd was immense. The windows of all the houses, the balconies, the roofs even, along the whole line of

Page  144 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the route were filled with spectators. The streets were hung with flags and decorated with garlands of flowers; while on all sides shouts ascended of " Vive l'Empereur! " Victoire I" "Dieu vous garde!" At the Place de la Bastile the populace, in their enthusiasm, began to take the horses from the carria,ge that they might triumphantly draw the emperor themselves. For a moment the emperor was quite overcome with emotion in view of these proofs of confidence and love. Standing up in the carriage, he addressed the multitude, saying, " My firiends, do not delay me; time is precious." Instantly they desisted, with renewed shouts of " Vive l'Empereur!" The crowd now gathered so closely around the carriage that the emperor reached out both hands and cordially grasped all the hands which were extended towards him. The affecting and the ludicrous were singularly blended in the remarks which were addressed to the emperor and the empress. One said, " Sire, you have victory in your eyes." Another said," If you want more soldiers, don't forget us." A woman, noticing the tears streaming down the cheeks of the empress, exclaimed, soothingoly, "Don't cry, don't cry; he will soon come back a,gain." A sturdy maan endeavored to add to the words of solace as he leaned his head into the carriage, saying tenderly to the empress, "Don't cry; we will take care of you and the boy." At the station of the Lyons railroad many of the cabinet ministers and a large number of distinguished members of the court, gentlemen and ladies, were present. Prince Napoleon, son of Jerome, was there with his young bride, Princess Clotilde, daughter of Victor Emanuel. The Princess ]latilda, Prince and Princess Murat were also there. "It was a touching scene," writes Julie de Marg,uerittes; the waiting-room crowded with mothers, wives, sisters, and 144

Page  145 EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THaE FRENCH. 145 friends, -tears and sobs making their way spite of imperial example, spite of court etiquette. At length the moment of departure arrived. The emperor again embraced the empress and entered the car amidst the deafening shouts of enthusiasm. All was ready. The chief director went up to the imperial car and asked if he might give the signal to depart. The emperor answered in the affirmative. And so amidst the shouts of the multitude, which echoed far along the road, the car bearing the fortunes of France, left the capital." The empress returned to the palace, where she reigned as Regent of France until the return of the emperor. The following was the form of the Imperial announcement of the regency: " Napoleon, by the grace of God and the national will, Emperor of the French, "To all present and to come, greeting. "Wishing to give to our well-beloved wife, the empress, marks of the great confidence we repose in her, arid, seeing that we intend to take the head of the army of Italy, we have resolved to confer, as we do confer, by these presents, on our well-beloved wife, the empress, the title of Regent, that she may exercise its functions during our absence, in conformity with our instructions and orders, such as we shall havo made known in the general order of the service that we shall have established, which will be copied into the book of state. " We desire that the empress shall preside, in our name, over the Privy Council and the Council of Ministers," etc.. All the decrees and state papers were presented to Eugenie, who appended to them her signature in these terms: 10

Page  146 146 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "For the emperor, and in virtue of the power by him con. ferred. " EUGENIE." The emperor entered Genoa on the 12th. No language can do justice to the enthusiasm with which he was received. On the day of his arrival at Genoa, the wife of the Sardinian minister, at Paris, presented Eugenie with a magnificent bouquet, which had arrived, in perfect preservation, from the ladies in Genoa. It came from the most distinguished ladies of the city. In the accompanying address they said: "The ladies of Genoa entreat your Majesty, who so nobly partakes in the magnanimous feelings of the emperor, to accept these flowers, which they would have strowed on your path had you accompanied your august husband on the entrance into Genoa. May these flowers be the symbols of the immortal wreaths of victory which history will twine round the brow of Napoleon III., and will bequeath to his son as the most precious ornaments of the imperial diadem." Our brief sketch of the empress must here terminate. We would gladly speak of her devotion to institutions of learning and benevolence; of her visits to the hospitals where the sick langutish, and to the asylums where the deaf gaze lovingly upon her smiles, and where the blind listen almost entranced to the melody of her loving voice. lFrance has had two enmpresses who will ever be gral efuilly remembered by the nation, Josephine and Eugeinie. Neither of them were of royal blood, but both of them were endowed, richly endowed, with that nobility which comes from God alone. Both were .crowned by mortal hands on earth; we cannot doubt that one has already received, and that the other will yet receive, that diadem of immortality which God places upon the vie.tor's brow.

Page  147 GRACE GREENWOOD —MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 147 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. BY JOSEPH B. LYMAN. ::$ ABOUT thirty years ago, when Andrew Jackson and Martin Van Buren lived in the White House; when questions of a national bank and a protective tariff interested without arousing the popular mind; when the great and glorious valley of the Mississippi still gave homes to the red man and haunts to wild beasts; when Bryant was fiesh from those native hills, broad, round, and green, where he dreamed the Thanatopsis; when visions of Absalom and Jephthlah's daughter were floating fresh and sacred before the eyes of Willis, -a traveller through Pompey, one of the youthful towns of western New York, might have turned in his saddle to take a second look at the lithe figure and the glowing face of a villagce romp. Could such tourist hltve known that, inll the bright-eyed school-girl with rustic dress and touseled hair, he saw one of the rising lights of the coming age; a letterwriter who should charm a million readers by the piquant dash and spicy flavor of her style; a delightfull inmaga.zinist; a poetess, the melody and ring of whose stanzas should remind us of the most famous lyres of the world; a woman who, staniding calm, graceful, and self-poised before great audiences, and thrilling them by noble aud earnest words spoken in the deep gloom of national disaster, should (,all up rich memories of the Roman matron in her noblest form, or of the brightest figures that move on the storied page of France,

Page  148 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE. could he have foreseen all thcat as in the ftittire of this village beauty, the traveller would have done more thlan turn for a second look. He would have halted, and talked with the young Corinne; he would have litngered to hear her speak of wild flowers, and birds' nests, of rills and rocks and cascades; he migiht have gone with her to her f,tther's door, and caught a glimpse of silvered hair and a noble forehead, and he would have observed upon that flce lineameints that have for two hundred years been found in all the highl places of American thought and character. For the father of this little Sara was Dr. Thaddeus Clarke, a grandson of President Edwards. Fortunate it is, and a blessing to the race, when a man so rarely and royally gifted as was this great thleologian, with everything that makes a human character noblle, is so wisely mated that he can transmit to thre comingi age, not only the most valuable thinking, of his time, but a flimily of children, blessed with soiund constitutions, developed by harmonious fireside influences, and endowed with vigorous understandings. In doing tliat, Jonathan Eddwards did more to stir thought than when he wrote the history of the Great Awakening; he dlid more to estalb)lish the grooves of religious and moral thiliking, and to fix the model of fine character, than he could ever accomplish by his Treatise on the Will. In mature life, the great-graind-daughter has shown many of the traits of the Edwards family. She has rejected the ironhooped Calvinism of her ancestor, btit she is indebted to him for an unflagging, and ever-fresh interest in nature; for ceaseless mental fectindity, that finds no bottom to its cruse of oil, and for a touthniess of intellectual fibre that fits her for a life of perpetual mnental activity. There was not a gayer or more active girl in Oinondaga County than Sara Clarke. The brighlt Alfarata was not fonder of wild roving. No young gipsy ever took more naturally to the fields. She loved the forests, the open pas 148

Page  149 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 149 tures, the strawberry-lots, nid the spicy knolls, where the scarlet leaves of the wintergreen iiestle under the dainty spri,gs of ground pine and the breezy hill-sides, where the purple fingers and painted lips attest the joy of huckleberrying. She says of herself that she was a mighty hunter of wild fruits. At this early ag,e, she developed a taste which, at a later age, gave her name a piquant flavor of rorn,nce; the taste for horseback riding, and the ability to manage with fearless grace the most spirited steeds. 11er figure was lithe and wiry, her step elastic, her eye cool, and her nerves firm. At ten years of age she was given to escapades, in which she found few boys hardy and fearless enough to rival her. She would g,o into an open pasture with a nub) of corn, call up a frolicsome young, horse, halter him, and then jump on his back. No saddle or bridle wants the little Anmazon. She lhadl seen bold ricding at the circus, andcl in the retirement of the woods she could surpass it. So she would toss off her shoes, and stand upright on the creature's back, with a foot on each side of the spine. At first she was content to let the animal walk with his spirited little burden; then she would venture into a gentle amble, and finally into full gallop. As she grew older, the deep woods had a perpetual charni for her. She loved to wander afar into dim shlades, and listen to the wild, sweet song, of the wood-lark, and to watch the squirrels gambolling on the tops of beechl-trees, or leaping, from one oLak to the other. It is not possible to say how much she, and every other active and finely tempered genius, gains by such a childhood. A love of iiature:iid a habit of enjoying nature is thus rooted in the spirit, so deeply that no flush of city life can destroy it. The glare of palaces and the roar of paved streets seem, for a lifetime, tiresome and false; the world-weary spirit evermore lone for the music of the west wind blowing thlroLugh the tree-tops, the melodies of the forest, the splash of waterfialls, the ring of

Page  150 150 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the mower's steel, the swayiing of the golden wheat fields, the songs of the whippoorwills, and the glancing of the fireflies. Such a childhood gives a firmness of health, a vigor and a hardihood, a power of recovering from fatigue, and a capacity for constant labor without exhaustion, that are a greater blessing than the wealth of a Girard or a Stewart. At the age of twelve Sara Clarke went to Rochester to attend school. Her home was with an elder brother, and she entered with zeal and with success on the studies of a regular education. Like many others who, in after life, have written that which the world will not willingly let die, she did not excel in mathematical studies. The multiplication table was no labor of love. The Rule of Three was a hopeless conulndrum. Interest had no intqrest for her. But whatever related to the graceful expression of fine thought, whatever unsealed the ancient fountains of song and of story, was easy, harmonious, and attractive; this was native air. Nothing is harder than to say just what faculty or grouping, of faculties makes the writer. One may be witty, vivacious, charming in the parlor, or at the dinner-table, yet no writer. Mlany have the faculty of expressing a valuable thought in appropriate languarge; but that does not endow one with the rights, the honors, and the fame of authorship. Give Edward Lytton Bulwer three hours of leisure daily, and in a year he will give the world three hundred and sixty-five chapters of unequalled story-telling, in a style that never grows dull, never palls upon the taste, that is perpetually fresh, clear-cut, and briluillt. Charles Dickens will sit down by any window in London, or lounge through any street in London, and describe the characters that pass before him, in a way that will charm the reading public of two continents, in paragraphs for every one of which his publishers will gladly pay him a guinea b)efore the ink ism'dry. Sara Clarke was not three years in her teens

Page  151 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 151 before the Rochester papers were glad to get her compositions. They were fresh, piquant, racy. It was impossible to guess whether she had read either Whately or Blair, but it was clear that she had a rhetoric trimmed by no pedantic rules. It was nature's own child talking of nature's charms, her pen, like a mountain rill, neither running between walls of chiselled stone, nor roofed with Roman arches, but wvande:ring between clumps of willows, and meandering at its own sweet will through beds of daisies and fields of blooming clover. There was nothing remarkable about her education. When she left school in 1843, at the age of nineteen, she knew rather more Italian and less algebra, more of English and Frenich history, and less of differential and integral calculus, than some recent graduates of Oberlin and Vassar; but perhaps she was none the worse for that. Indeed, austere, pale-faced Science would have chilled the blood of this free, bounding, elastic, glorious girl. Meantime, Dr. Clarke had removed from Oinondaga County to New Brighton, in Western Pennsylvania. This village is nestled between the hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its bright waters for a long journey to the far-off Southern Gulf. Not long after she went home, in 1845 and 1846, the literary world experienced a sensation. A new writer was abroad. A fresh pen was moving along the pages of the Monthlies. Who might it be? Did Willis know? Could General Morris say? Whittier was in the secret; but he told no tales. And her nom de plume, so appropriate and ele gant! This charming Grace Greenwood, so natural, so chat ty, so easy, chanting her wood-notes wild. Ah me! those were jocund days. We Americans were not then in such grim earnest as we are now. The inimitable, much imitated pen, that in the early part of the century had given us "Knicker bocker" and the " Sketch Book," was still cheerfully busy at

Page  152 152 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Sunny Side. Willis, beginnling with thle sacred and nibbling at the profane, was in the middle of his genial, lounoging, graceful career. Poe's Raven was pouring out those weird, melodious croakings. Ik Marvel was a drceaming, bachelor, gliding about the picture-galleries of Europe. Bryant was a hard-working editor, but when he lifted up those poet eyes above the smoke of the great city, he saw the water-fowl, and addressed it in lines that our great-grandchildren will know by heart. William Lloyd' Garrison was somnetimes pelted with bad eggs. Horace Greeley had just started the "New York Tribune." Neither Clay, Calhoun, nor Webster had grown tired of scheming forty years for the presidency. That great thunder-cloud of civil war, that we have seen cov ering the whole heavens, was but a dark patch on the glow ing skly of the South. In these times, and among these people, Grace Greenwood now began to live and move, and have a part, and win a glowing fame. For six or eight years her summer home was New Brighton. In winter she wais in Philadelphia, in Washington, in New York, writing for Whittier or for Willis and Morris, or for " Neal's Gazette," or for "Godley." She was the most copious and brilliant lady correspondent of that day, wielding the gracefillest quill, giving the brightest and most attractive column. It is impossible, without full extracts, to give the reader a full idea of these earlier writings of Grace Greenwood. They had the dew of youth, the purple lilght of love, the bloom of young desire. As well think of culling a handful of moist clover-heads, in the hope of relproducing the sheen and firagrance, the luxuriance and the odor of a meadow, fresh bathed in the Papluian wells of a June morning! In 1850 many of these sketches and letters were collected and republished by Tickuor & Fields, under the name of Greenwood Leaves. The cotemporary estimate given to these writings by Rev. Mr. Mayo is so just and so tasteful that no reader will regret its insertion here: —

Page  153 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS LIPPINCOTT. 153 "The authoress is the heroine of the book; not that she writes about herself always, or often, or in a way that can offend. But her personality gets eitangled with every word she utters, and her generous heart cannot be satisfied without a response to all its loves, and hopes, and misgiviings, and aspirations. There is extravagance in the rhetoric, yet the delicious extravag,ance in which a bounding spirit loves to vindicate its freedom fiom the rules laid down in the'Aids of Composition,' and the'Polite Letter Writer.' There is a delightful absurdity about her wit, into which only a genuine woman couldfall. And one page of her adiiriing criticisim of books and men, with all its exaggerations, is worth a hundred volumes of the intellectual dissection of the critical professors. Yet the most striking thing in her book is the spirit of joyols health that springs and frolics through it. Grace Greenwood is not the woman to be the president of a society for the suppression of men, and the elevation of female political rights. She knows what her sisters need, as well as those who spoil their voices and temper in slirieking it into the ears of the world; but that knowledge does not cover the sun with a black cloud, or spoil her interest in her cousin's love afftir, or make her sit on her horse as if she were riding to a publ)lic execution. She can love as deeply as any daughter of Eve. Yet she would laugh in the face of a sentimental young gentlemau till he wished her at the other side of the world. She loves intensely, but not with that silent, brooding intensity which takes the color out of the cheeks and the joy out of the soul. I-Iers is the effervescence, not the corrosion, of the heart. Aind it is no small thing, this health of which I now speak. In an age when to think is to run the risk of seepticism, and to feel is to invite sentimentalism, it is charmling to meet a girl who is not ashamed to laugh and cry, and s-old and joke, and love and worship, as her grandmother dil L-afore her."

Page  154 154 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. But this is not a review of Grace Greenwood's writings. Litera scripta mnanet. Those who wish to see the cream of our magazine writings -from 1845 to 1852, will find. it in "Greenwvood Leaves," first and second series. About this time, her Poems were published. To say that they are beautiful is not enough. Though redolent of the open country, where most of them were written; though composed while doing housewvork, as was "Ariadne; " or in the saddle, like the Horseback Ride,"-the best element ill them is the frank, generous, cordial, winning personality which pervades them all. We find, too, evidences, that below the d.ashing and piquant exterior there was growvilg lup an intense sympathy with the most earnest and strenuous spirits. Already the mutterings of the distant thlluder were heard, mellowed by distance, but clear enough to hush the chatteriing of the bobolinks, and the scream of the bltie-jatys. Thus the lines To One Afar" close with the following admirable stainzas: "Truth's earnest seeker thou, I fancy's rover; Thy life is like a river, deep and wide; I but the light-winged wild bird passing over, One moment mirrored in the rushing tide. "Thus are we parted; thou still onward hasting, Pouring the great flood of that life along; While I on sunny slopes am careless, wasting The little summer of my time of song." But before this gay creature of the elements becomes an earnest woman, as we foresee she must, let us picture in outline the New Brighton life; let us see our heroine, not as a inagazinist, or a correspondent, but in a character more admirable and charming than either, - as a fine, handsome, brilliant, fearless young lady. No whit spoiled by a winter of adulation, by the gracefullest of letters from Mr. Willis, I

Page  155 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 155 by the warmest and the truest appreciation from Whittier, by a colonnade of kindliest notices from the great dailies, the braider of Greenwood chaplets has come back to her cottagehome amid the swelling hills, and beside the glancing river. As plain Sara Clarke, she had helped her mother through the morning work, sweeping, dusting, watering flowers, feeding chickens, sitting down for a few moments to read two stanzas to that white-haired father of hers, his head as clear and cool as ever it was, and as able to give his daughter the soundest judgments and the most valuable criticisms she ever enjoyed. In the heat of midday she seeks her chamber, gazes for a few moments with the look of a lover upon the glorious landscape, then dashes off a column for the "Home Journal" or the " National Press." Now, as the shadows of the hills are beginniing to stretch eastward, we hear a quick, elastic step onl the stair, and the responsive neigh from the hitching-post in the yard tells us that the "Horseback Ride" is to be rehearsed; and horse and heroine alike feel that "Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase, Nor rural dance on the moonlight shore, Can the wild and thrilling joy exceed Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed." She must tell, as nobody else can, how quick and marvellous is the change, when she feels the btounding and exuberant animal life of the steed rejoicing in the burden; exulting in the free rein, devouring the long reach of the grassy lane with his gladsome leaps: - "As I spring to his back, as I seize the strong rein, The strength to my spirit returneth again! The bonds are all broken that fettered my mind, And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind; My pride lifts its head, for a season bowed down, And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown."

Page  156 156 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Now our gentle and poetic Penithesilea has gained the woodland cool and dimn. On they press, horse and rider alike enthused, till they reach some retired valley, a sequestered nook, where no profane eyes may look. Lady and pony are going to have a grand equestrian frolic. Pony likes it as well as lady. What prancingo and pawing! what rearing and backing! Now a swift gallop, as if in the ring of some fairy circus. But this is no vulgar horse-opera; no saw-dust or tan-bark here; nothing for show, since the bluejays have no eye for horse-fleshl, nor call squirrels be made envious by such exploits. At length pony acts as though the game had been carried as far as he cared to have it; and Grace leaps to the greensward and lets him breathe, and get a drink, and bite the sodc. Will he not start for home? Not he. His fetters are silken; but his mistress has that rare gift, unusual among men, and very uncommon with the softer sex, the faculty of controlling animals. He obeys her word like a spaniel; goes and comes at her bidding; stands on his hind feet, if she tells him to; lies down; gets up ag-aiin; follows her up the steps of the piazza. Ini fact, if such a thlin, could be, he would carry out the nursery rhyme and go after her " upstairs, dlownstairs, in the lady's chamber." The ride home is somewhat more genitle; for, in the cool o f the eevening, dusk, our heroine has turned poetess ag,ain, a nd is chiselling out*Pygmalion word by word, or indulging i n such spirit-longing,s as this: "I look upon life's glorious things, The deathless themes of song, The grand, te proud, the beautiful, The wild, the free, the strong; And wish that I might take a part Of what to them belong." After the evening meal, and an hour of quiet chat, while

Page  157 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 157 flecks of mnoonbeam dance on the gallery floor, we might suppose the day ended, and these hours of beautiful life would now be rounded by a sleep. Not yet. This fearless and ardent lover of nature dclelights in every rich sensation that earth, or air, or water can impart. She glides away across the pasture to have a glorious swim in "Yon lake of heavenly blue; The long hair, unconfined, Is flung, like some young Nereid's now To tossing wave and wind." This is no timid, frightened bather. Had she been Hero on the shores of Hellespont, she would have plunged ill and met Leander half-way between the continents. None but an assured swimmer could have written this stanza: - "And now when none are nigh to save, While earth grows dim behind; I lay my cheek to the kissing wave, And laugh with the frolicsome. wind. "On the billowy swell I lean my breast, And he fondly beareth me; I dash the foam froim his sparkling crest, In my wild and careless glee." What a pity her bathing,-place was not the fountain of perpetual youth! No matter how al)ly a woman writes, or how eloquently she speakls, - and there are very few of her sex so able or so eloqluent to-day as Grace Greenwood,- we can but endorse this sentiment of one of her earliest admirers. In a letter to Morris, written when Miss Clarke was living this life, and writing these lines, he says:" Save her from meritiing the approbation of di-gnified critics. Leave this fairest blossom on the rose-tree of woman for my worship, I

Page  158 158 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. and the admiration of the few who, like me, can appreciate the value of an elegant uselessness, and perceive the fascination of splendid gayety and brilliant trifling. Adieu, and send me more Grace Greenwoods." But no woman, with an acute brain and a warm heart, could live in such a land as ours, and in the nineteenth century, and remain long a writer of splendid gayeties. The times called for earnest thinking and vigorous writing. The age of rose-tinted album-leaves, covered with graceful impromptus, was past. Willis, and his elegant "Home Journal," went into the mild oblivion of June roses. Great questions agitated the public mind; and we heard hoarse voices and blasts of brazen trumpets on the slopes of Parnassus. Meantime Miss Clarke went to Europe. This was in 1853. She spent a little over a year abroad, which, in the dedication to her daughter of one of her juvenile books, she calls the golden year of her life." Perhaps America has never sent to the shores of the Old World a young lady traveller, who was a better specimen of what the New World can do ill the way of producing a fine woman. She was a flower from a virgin 4oil, and a new form of civilizatioli; but rivalling, in the delicacy of its tints, and the richness of its perfume, anything from older and longer cultivated parterres. With one of those felicitous memories that has its treasures ever at command, and can always remember the right thingr at the right time and place; fully stored by wide readihgs in belles-lettres; with the spirit of an enthusiast for everything beautiful, or good, or famous; ili the joyous overflow of unbroken health and unflagging spirits, the trip was to her one long gala-day, crowded with memorable sights, with sensations which enrich the whole of onie's after-life. Harriet Beecher Stowe has written as well in her Sunniy Memories of Other Lands," but no lady tourist from America has surpassed Grace Greenwood in the warm tinting II

Page  159 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 159 and gorgeous rhetoric of her descriptions, and in the viva. cious interest which she felt herself, and which she conveys to others in her letters. This correspondence was collected immediately after her return, and published under the title of " Haps and Mishaps of a Tour in Europe." Nobody has described the marble wonlders of the Vatican with finer appreciation than can be seen in the following passage: "Of all the antique statues I have yet seen, I have been by far the most impressed by the Apollo Belvidere, and the Dying Gladiator,- the one the strikling embodiment of the pride, and fire, and power, and joy of life; the other of the mournful majesty, the proud resignation, the' conquered agony' of death. In all his triumphant beauty and rejoicing strength, the Apollo stands forth as a pure type of immnortality - every inch a god. There is all Olympian spring in the foot which seems to spurn the earth, a secure disdain of death in the very curve of his nostrils,- a sunborn lilght on his brow; while the absolute perfection of grace, the supernal tmajesty of the figure, now, as ill the olden time, seem to lift it above the human and the perishing, into the region of the divine and the eternal. Scarcely can it be said that the worship of this god has ceased. The indestructible glory of the lost divinity lingers about him still; and the deep, almost solemn emotion, the sig,h of unutterable admiration, with which the pilgrims of art behold him now, differ little, perhaps from the hushed adoration of his early worshippers. I have never seen any work of art which I had such difficulty to realize as a mere human creation, born in an artist's stru,ggling brain, moulded in dull clay, and from thence transferred, by the usual slow and laborious process, to marble. Nor can I ever think of it as having according to old poetic fancy, pre-existed in the stone, till the divinely directed

Page  160 160 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. chisel of the sculptor cut down to it. Ah, so methinks, the very marble must have groaned, in prescience of the god it held. To me it rather seems a glowing, divine conception, struck instantly into stone. It surely embodies the very soul and glory of the ancient mythology, and, with kindred works, forms, if not a fair justification of, at least a noble apology for, a religion which revelled ill ideas of b)eauty and grace, which had ever something lofty and pure even in its refined sensuality; and for the splendid arrogance of that genius lwhich boldly chiselled out its ownv grand conceptions, and named them gods. The Apollo I should lilke to see every day of my life. I would have it near me; and every morning, as the darkness is lifted before the sun, and the miracle of creation is renewed, I wvould wish to lift a curtain, and gaze on that transcendent inmage of life and lilght, - to receive into my own being somewhat of the enlergy and joy of existence with which it so abountds,-to catch some gleams of the glory of the fresh and golden morning of poetry and art yet raying from its brow. One could drink in strength, as firom a fountain, fronm gazing on that attitude of pride and grace, so light, yet firm, and renewv one's wasted vigor by the mnere sig,ht of that exulting and effortless action." What a gem of description we have here at the end of a letter, written from Naples on the 18th of April: "We drove to N.aples this morning, over aroad, which,for its varied scenery and picturesque views, seems to me only comparable with the Cornice leadiing to Genoa. It was with heartfelt reluctance that we left Sorrento, which must ever seem to me one of the loveliest places on earth.. O pride and darling, of this delicious shore, -like a young festive queen, rosecrowned, sitting, in the shade of oranges and miyrtles, watched

Page  161 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 161 over with visible tenderness by the olive-clad hills, gently caressed and sung to by the capricious sea, - bright, balmy, bewitching Sorrento, adieu! " But the finest piece of writing in the volume is a bravura on the Roman Catholic Religion. It occurs ill a long and splendid description of High Mass, at St. Peter's on Christ mas morning: To my eyes, the beauty and gorgeousness of the scene grew most fitting and holy; with the incense floating to nme from the altar, I seenled to breathe in a subtile, subduing spirit; and to that music my heart hushed itself in my breast, my very pulses grew still, and my brain swam ill a 1newV, lhalf-sensuouts, half-spiritual emotion. For a moment I lbelieve I understood the faith of the Roman Catholie, - for a moment I seemed to taste tllhe ecstasy of tlhe 1mystic, to b)Lrll with the fervor of the dlevotee, and felt in wolnderi, iid in fear, all the poetry, mnystery, and power of the Church. Suddenly rose before my mind vivid w.ayside and seaside scenCes, - pictures of humblest Judean life, when the'mieek and lowly' Author of our fnitlh walked, ministerin,, and teaching, and cornfioiting ainoig thle people, humblest amongi the lhunmrle, poorest almong the poor, mIost sorrowful amongI thle sorrowful, preaclhing peace, good-will, purity, hum,iility, and fieedom, - and then, all this manificent mockery of the divinie truthls lhe taugtht, this trmed and arrogi,nt spiritual despotism, in the place of the peace ald liberty of the gospel, fade(l fi'om b)cfore my disenchanted eyes, and even my ear grewv dull to that pomp of sound,IIl, swelli,ng up as though to charm his ear aga.ilst the silghs of the poor, and the groanings of the captive. 0 Cleopatra of religions, thlroned in power, glowing and gorgeous in all imaginable splendors and luxuries,- proud 11 11 'O'

Page  162 162 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIlE AGE. victor of victors, - in the'infinite variety' of thy resources and enchantment,s more attractive than glory, resistless as fate; now terrible in the dusky splendors of thy imperious beauty; now softening and subtile as moonli-ght, and miusic, and poet dreams; insolent and humble, stormy tlhonl,h tender! alluringl tyranny, beautiful fatlsehood, fatir and faltal enchantress, sovereign sorceress of the world! the end is not yet, and the day ma-y not be far distant when thou shalt lay the asp to thlline own bosom, and die." Since her marriage to Leander IK. Lippincott, Grace Greenwood's pen has been employed chiefly iII writillngs for the young. She edits the "Little Pilg,rimn," a monthlly devoted to the amusement, the instructioni, and the well-l)eing of little folks. Its best atrticles are her co(ntril)utions. These have been collected firon time to time, and publishlied l)y Ticknor & Fields, and make a juvenile lil)Iary, null)el'iig nearly a dozen volutmes. ThougIh illtended for children, none of these books but will charmn older readers, with the elegance and freshness of their style, their al)oiunding vivaNcity and harmless wit, and the ho)eftill and stunny spirit which they breathe. They are remariikable for the felicitous mainner in which they convey historical infornmation. No child can fail to be drawn on to wider readlings of the storied past, ald to know more of oldcl heroes, ancient cities, and famotis lIands. Soon after its establishment, Mrs. Lippincott becnme a coIntril)utor to the "Independent," and durilng the war a lectuLrer to soldiers and at sanitary fitirs. Icr last book is made up firom articles in the "Independent," and passages from lectures. It shows the fire of her youthful zeal, and the glowing rlietoric of twenty-five no whit abated. On the contrary, there are evidences in her later productions of a full grasping of the significance of the heroic and stormny times in which we live.

Page  163 GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 163 There appear in the writings of Grace Greenwood three phases of development, three epochs of a literary career. The first lasted from the days of the boarding-school till mar riige,- from the first merry chit-chat and fragrant Greenwood Leaves beyond the Alleghanies, to the full-rounded, mellow, golden prime, as displayed in the letters from Europe. Then follows a decade, dutring which story-writing for children has principally occupied her pen. With the war commences the third period,- years "vexed with the drums and tramplings," the storms and dust-clouds of middle life; a great republ)ic coIv[llsed by a giant struggle; woman gliding from the sanctity of the fireside, going out to do, to dare, and to sutffer at the side of her war-worn brother, attacking social wron,gs, doing all that woman can dlo to cheer, to adorn, to raise the dowunf-iilen, to proclaim liberty to the captive, to open the prison to those that are bound. Up to the full summit level of such a time her spirit rises. She briings to the requirements of this epoch faculties polished by long and diligent culture; a heart throbbin(g with every fine sensibility, and every generous emotion; a large, warm, exuberant nature; a ripe and glorious womanhood. For such a character in such a wondrous mother age, there lies- open a long career of strenuous exertion, worthy achievement, and lasting fame.

Page  164 1641 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ALICE AND PHEBE (CARY. BY HORACE GREELEY. YEARS ago - a full score, at least- the readers of some religTious, and those of many rural, newspapers first noted the fitfiul appearance, in the poet's corner of their respective gazettes, of verses by ALICE CARY. Two or three years l'ater, other such-like, and yet different- also irradiated, from time to time, the aforesaid corner, purporting to be from the pen of PEEBE CARY. Inquiry at lengthl elicited the fact that the writers wvere young sisters, the d.tughters of a plain, substantial farmier, who lived on and cultivated his own goodly but not superabundant acres, a few miles out of Cincinnati, Ohio. I-e was a Universalist in faitli, and they grew up the same, - writiin oftener for the periodicals of their own denomination, thlough their effusions obtained wide currency thlrough others, into which they were copied. I do not know, but presume, that Alice had written extensively, and Phlebe occasionally, for ten years, before either had asked or been proffered any other consideration therefor than the privilege of be-'ng read and heard. This f.tmily of Catrys claim kindred with Sir Robert Cary, a stout English knigrt, who, in the reign of I-enry V., vanquished, after a long and bloody struggle, a haughty chevalier of Arragon, who challenged any Englislhman of geltle blood to a passage-at-arms, which took place in Smithfield, London, as is chronicled in "Burke's HIeraldry." IHenry authorized

Page  165 ALICE AND PHEBE CARY. the victor to bear the arms of his vanquished antagonist, and the crest is still worn by certain branches of the family. The genealogy is at l)est unverified, nor does it matter. From Walter Cary- a French Hugtuenot, compelled to flee his coulntry, upon the revocation by Louis XIV. of the great Henry's Edict of Nantes, and who, with his wife and son, settled in England, where his son, likewise named Walter, was educated at Cambridge -the descent of the Ohio Carys is unquestioned. The younger Walter migrated to America, very soon after the lanlding of the IMa-yfiower" pilgrims, and settled at Bridgewater, Mass., only sixteen miles from Plymouth Rock, where he opened a "grammar school," claimed to have been the earliest in America. Walter was duly blest with seven sons, whereof John settled in AVWindham, Connecticut; and of his five sons, the youngest, Samuel, was great-grandfather to the Alice and Phebe Cary of our day. Samuel, educated at Yale, becoming a physician, settled and practised at Lyme, where was born, in 1763, his son Christopher, who, at eighteen years of age, entered the armies of the Revolution. Peace was soon achieved; when, in default of cash, the young soldier received a land grant or warrant, and located therewith the homestead in IHamilton County, Ohio, whereon was born his son Robert, who in due time married the wife who bore him a son, who died young, as did one daughter. Two more daughters have since passed away, and three remain, of whom the two who have not married are the subjects of this sketch. Their surviving sister, Mrs. Carnahan, is a widow, and lives in Cincinnati. Two brothers, sturdy, thrifty farmers, live near the spot where they first saw the light. Alice Cary was born in 1820, and was early called to mourn the loss of her mother, of whom she has written: My mother was of English descent, - a woman of superior 165

Page  166 160 EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. intellect, and of a good, well-ordered life. In my menioy, she stands apart from all others, -wiser, purer, doing more, and living better, than ally other woman." Phebe was born in 1825; and there were two younger sisters, of whom one died in youth, greatly beloved and lamented. A few weeks before her departure, and while she was still in fair health, she appeared for some minutes to be plainly visible in broad daylight to the whole family, across a little ravine firom their residence, standing on the stoop of a new house they were then building, though she was actually asleep, at that moment, in a chamber of their old house, and utterly uncoInscious of this "counterfeit presentment" at some distance from her bodily presence. This appearance naturally connected itself with her death, when that occurred soon afterward; and thenceforth the family have lent a ready ear to narrations of spiritual (as distinguished from material) presence, which to many, if not most, persons are simply incredible. The youngest of the family, named Elmina, was a woman of signal beauty of mind and person, whose poetic as well as her general capacities were of great promise; but she married, while yet young, Mr. Swvift, a Cincinnati merchant, and thenceforward, absorbed in other cares, gave little attention to literature. She was early marked for its victim by Consumption, - the scourge of this, with so many other families, -and yielded upl) her life while still in the bloom of early womanhood, three or four years since. I believe her marrilage, and the consequent loss of her society, had a share in determining the elder sisters to remove to New York, which they did in 1850. Alice had begunl to write verses at eig,hteen, Phebe at seventeen, years of age. Their father married a second time, and thence lived apart from, though near, the cottage wherein I first greeted the sisters in 1849; and, when the number i

Page  167 ALICE AND PHEBE CARY. was reduced to two by the secession of Elmina, Alice and Phlebe meditated, and finally resolved on, a removal to thle great emnporium. Let none rashly conclude to follow their example who have not their securities against adverse fortune. They were in the flush of youth and strenglth; they were thoroughly, inalienably devoted to each other; they had property to the value, I think, of some thousands of dollars; they had been trained to habits of industry and frugality; and they had not merely the knacki of writing for the press (which so many mistakenly imagine sufficient), but they had, throulgh the last ten or twelve years, been slowly but steadily winning attention and appreciation by their voluntary contributions to the journals. These, though uncompensated in money, had won for them what was now money's worth. It would pay to buy their effusions, though others of equal intrinsic merit, but whose writers had hitherto won no place in the rega,rd of the reading public, might pass unread and unconsiderecd. Being already an acquaintance, I called on the sisters soon after they had set up) their household gods among us, and met them at intervals thereafter at their home, or ait the houses of mutual friends. Their parlor was not so large as some others, but quite as neat and cheerffl; and the few literary persons or artists who occasionally met, at their informal invit.-ation, to discuss with them a cup of tea and the newest books, poems, and events, might have found many more pretentious, but fewv more enjoyal)le, gathlerings. I have a dim recollection that the first of these little tea-parties was held up two flights of stairs, in one of the less fashionable sections of the city; but good thiings were said there, that I recall with pleasure even yet; while of some of the company, on whom I have not since set eyes, I cherish a pleasant and grateful remembrance. As their circumstances gradu 167

Page  168 EMINENT WOM.EN OF THE AGE. ally though slowly improved, by dint of diligent industry and judicious economy, they occupied more eligible quarters; and the modest dwellilng they have for some years owned and improved, ill the very heart of this emporium, has long been known to the literary guild as combinilng one of the best private libraries, with the sunniest drawing-room (even by gasli,ght) to be found between King's Bridge and tho Battery. Their first decided literary venture -a joint volume of poems, most of which had already appeared ill sundry jour nials -was published in Philadelphia early in 1850, before they had abandoned "Clovernook," their rural Western home, for the brick-and-mortar whirl of the American Babel. Prob ably the heartiness of its welcome fortified, it did not stimu late, their resolve to migrate eastward; though it is a safe guess that no direct pecunliary advantage accrued to them firom its publlication. But the next year witnessed the "coming out" of Alice's first series of" Clovernook Papers;" prose sketches of characters and incidents drawn from ol)servation and experience, which won immediate and decided popularity. The press heartily reco,gnized their fieshl simplicity and originality, while the public l)ot,lght, read, and admired. Several goodly editions were sold in this country, and at least one in Great Britain, where their merits wvere generously appreciated by the critics. A second series, publlished in 1853, was equally successffll. "The Cloveirnook Children" -issued in 1854 by Ticknor & Fields, and addressed more especially to the tastes and watits of younger readers- has been hardly less commended or less popular. " Lyra and other Poems," pub)lished by Redfield in 1853, was the first volume of verse wherein Miss Cary challenged the judgment of critics independently of her sister. That it was a decided success is sufficiently indicated by the fct that a more complete edition, including all the contents of 168 i I

Page  169 ALICE AND PHEBE CARY. RPedfield's, with much more, was issued by Ticknor & Fields in 1855. "The Maiden of Tlascala," a narrative poem of seventy-two pages, was first given to the public in this Boston edition. IHer first novel - Hagar; a Story of To-Day" - was written for and appeared in "The Cincinnati Commercial," appearing in a book form in 1852. "MIarried, not Mated," followed in 1856, and "The Bishop's Son," her last, was issued by Carleton, in 1867. Each of these have had a good reception, alike from critics and readers; though their pectuniary success has, perhaps, been less decided than that of her poems and shorter sketches. Of her "Pictures of Country Life," brought out by Derby & Jackson ill 1859, "The Literary Gazette" (Londoln), which is not accustomed to flatter American authors, said: "Every tale in this book might be selected as evidence of some new beauty or unhackneyed grace. There is nothing, feeble, nothling vulgar, and, above all, nothing unnatural or melodramatic. To the analytical subtlety and marvellous naturalness of the French school of romance she has added the purity and idealization of the home affections and home life beiongingo to the English; giving to both the American richness of color and vigor of outline, and her own individual power and loveliness." Except her later novels, Miss Cary's works have in good part appeared filst in periodicals, - "The Atlantic Magazine," "I-Harpers'," "The New York Ledger," and "The Independent;" but many, if not most of them, have generally been afterwalrd issued in her successive volumes, along with others not previously published. "Lyrics and IHymnis," issued in 1866 by Hurd & Houghton, "The Lover's Diary," admirably brofught out by Ticknor & Fields in 1867, and Snow Berries; a 169 I

Page  170 170 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Book for Young Folks," by the same house, are her latest volumes. Nearly all of her prose works have been reprinted in Lolldon, and have there, as well as here, received a cordial and intelligent welcome. Few American women have written more than Aliss Cary, and still fewer have written more successfully. Yet she does not write rapidly nor recklessly, and her works evince conscientious, painstaking, effort, rather than transcendent genlius or fitfill inspiration. Ill-health has of late interrupted, if not arrested, her labors; buLt, in the intervals of relative exemption from weakness and suffering, her pen is still busy, and her large circle of admiring readers may still confidently hope that her melody will not cease to flow till song and singer are together hushed in the silence of the grave. From her many poems that I would gladly quote, I choose this as the shortest, not the best: - " We are the mariners, and God the sea; And, though we make false reckonings, and run Wide of a righteous course, and are undone, Out of his deeps of love we cannot be. " For, by those heavy strokes we misname ill, Through the fierce fire of sin, through tempering doubt, Our natures more and more are beaten out To perfecter reflections of his will!" Phebe has written far less copiously than Alice; in fact, she has for years chosen to bear alone the burden of domestic cares, ill order that her more distinguished sister should feel entirely at liberty to devote all her time and strength to literature. And, though she had been widely known as the author of good newspaper prose, as well as far more verse, I think the critical public was agreeably surprised by the quality of her " Poems of Faith, IHope, and Love," recently issued by Hurd & Houghton. There are one hundred pieces

Page  171 ALICE AND PHEBE CARY. in all, covering two hundred and forty-nine pages; and hardly one of the hundred could well be spared, while there surely is no one of them which a friend would wish she had omitted from the collection. There are a buoyant fatith, a sunny philosophy evinced throughout, with a hearty ijdependence of thought and manner, which no one ever succeeded in affecting, and no one who possesses them could afford to barter for wealth or fame. The follo(wing verses, already widely copied and relished, are here given, as affording, a fair chapter of wholesome, bracing autobiography - " ( A WOMAN'S CONCLUSIONS. I' I said, if I might go back again To the very hour and place of my birth; Might have my life whatever I chose, And live it in any part of the earth; "Put perfect sunshine into my sky, Banish the shadow of sorrow and doubt; Have all my happiness multiplied, And all my suffering stricken out; "If I could have known, in the years now gone, The best that a wvoman comes to know; Could have had whatever will make her blest, Or whatever she thinks will make her so; "Have found the highest and purest bliss That the bridal wreath and ring enclose; And gained the one out of all the world That my heart as well as my reason chose; "And if this had been, and I stood to-night By my children, lying asleep in their beds, And could count in my prayers, for a rosary, The shining rowv of their golden heads; - " Yea! I said, if a miracle such as this Could be wrought for me, at my bidding, still I would choose to have my past as it is, And to let my future come as it will I 171 I.

Page  172 172 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "I would not make the path I have trod More pleasant or even, more straight or wide; Nor change my course the breadth of a hair, This way or that way, to either side. "My past is mine, and I take it all; Its weakness -its folly, if you please; Nay, even my sins, if you come to that, May have been my helps, not hindrances! I "If I saved my body from the flames Because that once I had burned my hand; Or kept myself from a greater sin By doing a less -you will understand; " It was better I suffered a little pain, Better I sinned for a little time, If the smarting warned me back from death, And the sting of sin withheld from crimae. "Who knows its strength by trial, will know What strength must be set against a sin; And how temptation is overcome He has learned, who has felt its power within! I "And who knows how a life at the last may show? Why, look at the moon from where we stand I Opaque, uneven, you say; yet it shines, A luminous sphere, complete and grand I "So let my past stand, just as it stands, And let me now, as I may, grow old; I am what I am, and my life for me Is the best - or it had not been, I hold." If I have written aright this hasty sketch, there are hope and comfort therein for those who are just entering upon responsible life with no more than average opportunities and advantages. If I have not shown this, read the works of Alice and Phebe Cary, and find it there I

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Page  173 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. BY T. WV. HIGGINSON. TRAVELLING by rail in Michigan, some ten years ag b, I found myself seated next to a 3young lWestern girl, with a very intelligent face, who soon began to talk with me about literary subjects. She afterwards gave me, as a reason for her confidence, that I "looked like one who would elljoy AIargaret Fuller's writings," -these being, as I found, the object of her special admiration. I certainly took the remark for a compliment; and it was, at any rate, a touching tribute to the woman whose intellectual influence thus brought strangers together. Margaret Fuller is connected, slightly but firmly, with my earliest recollections. We were born and bred in the same town (Cambridge, MAassachusetts), and I was the playmate of her young,er brotlhers. Their famiily then lived at the old Brattle Hfouse," which still stands behind its beautiful lindens, though the great buildings of the University Press now cover the site of the old-falshionled garden, whose formal fishponds and stone spring-house wore an air of European stateliness to our home-bred eyes. There I dimly remember the discreet elder sister, book in hand, watchiing over the gambols of the lovely little Ellen, who became, long after, the wife of my near kinsman, Ellery Channing. This later connection cemented a new tie, and led to a few interviews in maturer years with Marg,aret Fuller, and to much intercourse with 173 i

Page  174 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. others of the fiamily. It is well to mention even such slight ties of assoeiation as these, for they unconsciously influence one's impressions; and, after all, it is the personal glimpses which make the best part of biography, great or small, and indeed of all literature. I-low refreshing it is, amid the chaff of Aulus Gellius, to come upon a reference to Virgil's own copy of the LEneid, which the writer had once seen, ttque?m ipsizs JTi'gilii fitisse cre(lebat; " and nothing in all Lord Bacon's works ever stirred me like that one magic sentence, " Whenl I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth was ill the flower of her years." I can say that when I was a child, Mlarg,aret Fuller was the queenl of Camblridge, though troubled with a large minority of rather unwilling and insurrectionary subjects. Her mother I well remember as one of the sweetest and most sympathetic of womenl; she was tall and not unattractive in person, refined and gentle, but with a certain physical awkwardness, proceeding in part from extreme nearsightedness. Of the father I have no recollection, save that he was mentioned with a sort of respect, as being a lawyer and having, been a congressman. But his daughter has described him, in her fragment of autobiography, with her accustomed frankness and precision: " My father was a lawyer and a politician. He was a man largely endowed with that sagacious energy which the state of New England society for the last half century has been so well fitted to develop. His father was a clergyman, settled as pastor in Princeton, Massachusetts, within the bounds of whose parish farm was Wachutsett. His means were small, and the great object of his ambition was to send his sons to college. As a boy, my father was taught to think only of preparing himself for Harvard University, and, when there, of preparing himself for the profession of law. As a lawyer, 174 a,

Page  175 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. again, the ends constantly presented were to work for distinction in the community, and for the means of supporting a family. To be an honored citizen and to have a home on earth were made the great aims of existence. To open the deeper fountains of the soul, to regard life here as the prophetic entrance to immortality, to develop his spirit to perfection, -motives like these had never been suggested to him, either by fellow-beings or by outward circumstances. The result was a character, in its social aspect, of quite the common sort. A good son and brother, a kind neighbor, an active man of business, - in all these outward relations, he was but one of a class which surrounding conditions have made the majority among us. In the more delicate and individual relations he never approached but two mortals, my mother and myself. " His love for my mother was the green spot on which he stood apart from the commonplaces of a mere bread-winnling, bread-bestowing existence. She was one of those fair and flower-like natures which sometimes spring up even beside the most dusty highways of life, - a creature not tobe shaped into a merely useful instrument, but bound by one law with the blue sky, the dew, and the frolic birds. Of all persons whom I have known she had in her most of the angelic,of that spontaneous love for every living thing, for man, and beast, and tree, which restores the golden age." Sarah Margaret Fuller was born May 23, 1810; the eldest child of Timothy Fuller and Margaret Crane. Her birthplace was a house on Cherry Street, in Cambridge, before vhose door still stand the trees planted by her father on the year when she saw the light. The famiTy afterwards removed to the "Dana House," which then crowned, in a stately way, the hill between Old Cambridge and Cambridgeport. It was later still that they resided in the "Brattle House," as I have 175

Page  176 176 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. described. This was Margaret Fuller's home until 1833, exept that she spent a year or more at the school of the Misses Prescott; in Groton, Mass., where she went through that remarkable experience described by herself, under the assumed character of Mariana, in "Summer on the Lakes." In 1826 she returned to Cambridge. The society of that University town had then, as it still has, great attractions for young people of talent. It offers something of that atmosphere of culture for which such persons yearn,- tinged, perhaps, with a little narrowness and constraint. She met there in girlhood the same persons who were afterwards to be her literary friends, colaborers, and even biographers. It was a stimulating and rather perilous position, for she found herself among a circle of highly cultivated young men, with no equal female companion; although she read Locke and Madame de Stael with Lyvdia MIaria Francis, afterwards better known as Mrs. Child. Carlyle had just called attention to the rich stores of German literature; all her friends were exploring them, and some had just returned from the German universities. She had the college library at command, and she had that vast and omnivorous appetite for books which is the most common sign of literary talent in men, but is for some reason exceedingly rare among women. At least I have known but two young girls whose zeal in this respect was at all comparable to that reported of MaIIrg,arct Fuller, these two being harriet Prescott and the late Charlotte Ilawes. In 1833 her father removed to Groton, Mass., much to her regret. Yet her life there was probably a good changie in trainingo for one who had been living for several years in an atmosphere of mental excitement. In March, 1834, she wrote thus of her mode of life: - "March, 1834.-Four pupils are a serious and fatiguing I

Page  177 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. charg,e for one of my somewhat ardent and impatient dispositionl. Five days in the wet~ I have given daily lessons in three langruages, in geography and history, besides many other exercises on alternate days. This has consumed often eight, always five hours of my day. There has been also a great deal of needle-work to do, which is now nearly finished, so that I shall not be obliged to pass my time about it when everything, looks beautiful, as I did last summer. We have had very poor servants, and, for some time past, only one. \Iy mother has been often ill. MAy grandmother, who passed the winter with us, has been ill. Thus you may imagine, as I am the only grown-up daughter, that my time has been considerably taxed. But as, sad or merry, I must always be learning, I laid down a course of study at the beginning of winter, comprising certain subjects, about which I had always felt deficient. These were the Ihistory and Geography of modern Europe, beginning the former in the fourteenth century; the Elements of Architecture; the works of Alfieri, with his opinions on them; the historical and critical works of Goethe and Schiller, and the outlines of history of our own countlry. "I chose this time as one when I should have nothing to distract or dissipate my mind. I have nearly completed this couise, in the style I proposed,- not minute or thorough, I confess, - though I have had only three evenings in the week, and chance hours in the day for it. I am very glad I have undertaken it, and feel the good effects already. Occasionally I try my hld at composition, but have not completed anything to my own satisfaction." On September 23, 1835, her father was attacked by cholera, and died within three days. Great as must have been the blow to the whole faLmily, it was greatest of all to Margaret. The tie between them had been very close, anl 12 177 I

Page  178 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. this sudden death threw the weight of the whole household upon the eldest child. It canu at what had seemed to her the golden moment of her whole life; for she was about to visit Europe with her constant friends, Professor and Mrs. Farrar, and with their friend Harriet Martineau, who was just returning home. But all this must be at once abandoned. Mr. Fuller had left barely property enough to support his widow, and to educate the younger children, with the aid of their elder sister. Mrs. Fuller was in delicate health, and of a more yielding nature than Margaret, who became virtually head of the house. Under her strong supervision, two out of the five boys went honorably through Harvard College,- a third having previously graduated,while the young sister was sent to the best schools, where she showed the famnily talent. In the autumn of 1836, Margaret Fuller went to Boston, where she taught Latin and French in Mr. Alcott's school, and had classes of yoiung ladies in French, German, and Italian. She also devoted one eveningll in every week to translatitng German authors into English, for the gratification of Dr. Chanlning, - their chief reading being in De Wette and Herder. The following extract will show how absorbing, were her occupations-: -"And now let me try to tell you what has been done. To one class I taught the Gertman lanlguage, and tlhought it good success, when, at the end of three months, they could read twenty pages of German at a lesson, and very wvell. This class, of course, was not interesting, except in the way of observation and analysis of laLngLuage. With more advanced pupils I rea.d, in twenty-four Wveeks, -Schiller's Don Carlos, Artists, adcl Song of the Bell, besides giving a sort of general lecture on Schliller; Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea; Goetz von Berlichingen; Iphigenlia; I 178

Page  179 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. first part of Faust, -- three weeks of thorough study this, as valuable to me as to them; and Clavio, - thus comprehendling samples of all his efforts in poetry, and bring,ing forward some of his prominent opinions; Lessing's Nathan, Minna, Emilia Galeotti; parts of Tieck's Phantasus, and nearly the whole first volume of Richter's Titan. With the Italian class, I read parts of Tasso, Petrarch,whom they came to almost adore,- Ariosto, Alfieri, and the whole hundred cantos of the Divina Comnmedia, with the aid of the fine Athenaeum copy, Flaxman's designs, and all the best commentaries. This last piece of workli was and will be truly valuable to myself." She was invited, in 1837, to become a teacher in a private school just organized, on Mr. Alcott's plan, in Providence, R. I. " The proposal is," she wrote, " that I shall teach the elder girls my favorite branches for four hours a day,choosing my own hours and arranging the course,-for a thousand dollars a year, if upon trial I am well pleased enough to stay." This was a flattering offer, and certainly shows the intellectual reputation she had won. She accepted it, for the sake of her family, though it involved the necessity of leaving the friends and advantatges which Boston had given. She had also to abandon her favorite literary project, the preparation of a Life of Goethe for MIr. Riplley's series of translations from foreign literature. It was perhaps as a substitute for this that she translated "Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe," though it did not appear till after her removal to Jamaica Plain, in 1839. It is an admirable version, and there is after all no b(,okl in Einglish from which one has so vivid and familiar impression of Goethe. Her preface is clear, moderate, and full of good points, though less elaborate than her subsequent essay on the same subiject. No one, I fancy, has ever compressed into one 179 I I

Page  180 180 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. sentence a sharper analysis of this great writer than when she says of him in the preface, "I think he had the trtist's eye and the artist's hand, but not the artist's love of structure." She took a house in Jamaica Plain, on her own responsibility, in the spring of 1839, and removed thither the fianily, of which she was practically the head. The next year they returned once more to Cambridgec, living in a small house near her birthplace. In the autumn of 1839, she instituted that remarkalble conversational class, which so stimulated the mindls of the more cultivated women of Boston, that even now the leaders of thought and intellectual society date back their first enlightenment to her, and wish that their daughters might have such guidance. The very aim and motive of these meetings showed her clear judgment. She held that women were at a disadvantage as compared with nmen, because the former were not called on to test, apply, or reproduce what they learned; while the pursuits of life supplied this want to men. Systematic conversations, controlled by a leiding nmind, would train women to definite statement, and continuous thought; they would make blunders and gain by their mortification; they would seriously compare notes with each other, and discover where vague impression ended and clear knowlecldge be,gan. She thus states, in her informal prospectus, her three especial aims - - To pass in review the departments of thougrht and knowledge, and endeavor to place them in due relation to one another in our minds. To systematize thought, and give a precision and clearness, in which our sex are so deficient,chiefly, I think, because they have so fcewv inducements to test and classify what they receive. To ascertain what pursuits are best suited to us, in our time and state of society, I'

Page  181 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. and how we may make best use of our means for building up thle life of thought upon the life of action." These conversations lasted during several successive winters, with much the same participants, numbering fi'om twenty to thirty. These were all liadies. During one bricf series, the experiment of admitting gentlemen was tried, and it seems singular that this should have failed, since nmany of her personal friends were of the other sex, and certainly men and women are apt to talk best when together. In this exceptionial course, the subject was nlmthology, and it was thought that the presence of those trained in classical studies might be useful. But an exceedilngly able historian of the enterprise adds, " All that depended on others entirely failed.... Even in the point of erudition on the subject, which Margaret did not profess, she proved the best informed of the party, while no one brotught an ide.t, except herself. Take her as a whole," adds this lady, " she has the most to bestow upon others by conversation of any person I have ever known. I cannot conceive of tany species of vallity living in her presence. She distances all who talk with her." It is said by.all her friends that no record of her conversation does it any justice. I have always fancied that the best impression now to be obtained of the way she talked when her classes called her " inspired," must be got by reading her sketch of the Roman and Greek characters, in her autobiographic fragment. That was writtenll when her conversations most flourished, ill 1840, and a mu]vellous thing it is. It is something to read and re-read, year after year, with ever newv delight. Where else is there a statement, so vivid, so brilliant, so profound, of the total influence exerted on a thoughtful chlild by those two mig,hty tcachers? No attempted report of her conversation gives such an impression of what it must have been, as this self-recorded reverie. If on 181 I

Page  182 182 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the tritest of all subjects, she could so easily write something admirable, what must it have been when the restraints of the penl - to her most distasteful- were removed? On the last daty of these meetings s- which were closed only by her departure for New York- she wrote thus: - "A4pril 28, 1844. It was the last day with my class. How noble has been my experience of such relation now for six years, and with so many and so various mind-s! Life is worth living,- is it not? We had a most animated meetiing. On bidding me good-by, they all and always show so much good-will and love that I feel I must really have become a friend to them. I was then loaded with beautiful gifts, accompanied with those little delicate poetic traits, which I should delight to tell you of, if you were near." While thus serving women, she aided men also, by her editorship of the "Dial." This remarkable quarterly, established in1840, by a circle of her friends, was under her exclusive charge for two years, aid these the most characteristic years of its existence. It was a time of great sectlething in thought and many people had their one thingi to say, which being said, they retired into the ranks of common men. The less instructed found their outlet in the radical conventions, then so abundant; the more cultivated uttered themselves in the " Dial." The contributors, who then thlronged around 1Margaret Fuller,- Emerson, Alcott, Parker, Thlloreau, Ripley, Hedge, Clarkle, W. H. Channiug, - were the triue founders of American literature. They emancipated the though,t of the nation, and also its culture, thoug,-h their mnode of utterance was often crude and cumbrous from excess of material. These writers are all now well known, and some are famous; but at that time not one of them was popular, save Theodore Parker, whose vigorous common ~;'

Page  183 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. sense soon created for itself a wide public. It was his articles, as MIr. Emerson has since told me, that sold the numbers; that is, as far as they did sell, which was not very far. The editor was to have had two hundred dollars as her annual salary, but it hardly reached that sum, and I believe that the whole edition was but five hundred copies. I can testify to the vast influence produced by this periodical, even upon those who came to it a year or two after its first appearance, and it seems to me, even now, that in spite of its obvious defects, no later periodical has had so fresh an aroma, or smacked so of the soil of spring. When the unwearied Theodore Parker attempted, half a dozen years after, to embody the maturer expression of the same phase of fiiought in the " Massachusetts Quarterly Review," he predicted that the new periodical would be "The Dial, with a beard." But the result was disappointment. It was all beard, and no Dial." During the first year of the " Dial's" existence, it contained but little from the editor,- four short articles, the "Essay on Critics,"" Dialogue between Poet and Critic," "The Allston Exhibition," and "Menzel's View of Goethe," - and two of what may lbe called fantasy-pieces, "Leila," and "The Magnolia of Lake Pontchartrain." The second volume was richer, containiIng four of her most elaborate critical articles, Goethe," "Lives of the Great Composers," "Festus," and Bettine Brentano." Few American writers have ever published in one year so much of good criticism as is to be found in these four essays. She wrote also, during this period, the shorter critical notices, which were good, thlou,gh unequal. She was one of the first to do hearty justice to Hawthorne, of whom she wrote, in 1840, " No one of all our imaginative writers has indicated a genius at once so fine and so rich." Hawthlorne was at that time scarcely known, and it is silngular to read in her diary, four years earlier, her ac 183 I I

Page  184 184 EMIN,NT WOMEN OF THE AGE. count of reading one of his "Twvice-told Tales," under the impression that it was written by " somebody in Salem," whom she took to be a lady. I find that I underscored in my copy of the "Dial," with the zeal of eighteen, her sympathetic lind wise remarkl on Lowell's first volume. "The proper critic of this book would be some youthful friend to whom it has been of real value as a stimulus. The exa,ggerated praise of such an one would be truer to the spiritual fact of its promise than accurate measure of its performance." This was received with delight by us ardent Lowellites in those days, and it still seems to me admlnirable. In the third volume of the " Dial," she wrote - of " Beethoven," "Sterling," "Romaic and Rhliine Ballads," and other themes. In the fourth volume she published a remarkable article, entitled, "The Great Lawsuit; Man versus AMen, 'Woman versus Women." It was a cumbrous name, for which even the vague title, Woman in the Nineteenth Century," ,s hlailed as a desirable substitute, when the essay was reprinted in book-form. In its original shape, it attracted so much attention that the number was soon out of print; and it is not uncommon to see sets of the "Dial" bound up without it.. She printed, in 1841, another small translation from the German,- a portion of that delightful book, the correspondence between Bettine Brentano and her frienicd G-underode. One-fourth of this was published in pamphlet form, by way of experiment; and it proved an unsuccessful one. Long, after, her version was reprinted, the work beiing completed by a far inferior hand. Margaret Fuller was one of the best of translators, whether in reproducing the wise oracles of Goethe, or the girlish grace and daring originality of Bettine and her friend. She says of this last work, in a spirit worthy the subject: "I have followed as much as possil)lo

Page  185 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. the idiom of the writer as well as her truly girlish piunctu,ation. Comnmas and dashes are the only stops natural to girls; their sentences flow on in little miiiim ripples, unbroken as the brook in a green field unless by some sli,,ght waterfidl or jet of Ohs and Ahs." I know of nlo other critic who has ever done exact justice to the wonderful Bettiue, recogniziing fully her genius and her charms, yet sternly pointilng out the inevitable failure of such self-abandonment and the way in which the tree which defies the law mars its own growvth. During the summer of 1843, she made a tour to the West with her friends James Freeman Clarke and his artist-sister. The result of this was her first original work, " Summer onl the Lakes,"- a book which, with all artistic defects upon its head, will yet always remain delightful to those who first read it in its freshness. To this day it is almost the only work which presents Western life in any thoulghtftil or ideal treatment, which is anything more than a statistical almanac or a treatise onl arithmetical progression. Though most of its statements of fact are loingo since superseded, it yet presents something which is truer than statistics,- the real aroma and spirit of Western life. It is almost the only book which makes that great region look attractive to any but the ener,getic and executive side of man's nature. In this point of view even her literary episodes seem in place; it is pleasant to think that such books as she describes could be read upon the prairies. In the narrative of most travellers it would seem inlappropriate to say that they stopped in Chicago and read a poem. It would seem like being offered a New York "Tribune" at Pestuni. But when Margaret Fuller reads "Philip Van Artevelde," by the lake shore, just in the suburbs of the busy city, all seems ippropriate and harmonized, and the moral that it yields her is fit to be remembered for years. "In Chicag,o I read ag,ain'Philip Van Arteveldc,' an' 185 i Ii

Page  186 186 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE. certain passages in it will always be in my mind associated with the deep sound of the lake, as heard in the night. I used to read a short time at niight, and then open the blind to look out. The moon would be fill upon the lake, and the caln breath, pure light, and the deep voice harmonized well with the thought of the Flemish hero. When will this country have such a man? It is what she needs; no thin idealist, no coarse realist, but a man whose eye reads the heavens, while his feet step firnzmly on the ground, and his hands are strong and dexterous for the use of human ip,lemnents." What was that power in MIargaret Fuller which made her words barbed arrows, to remain in the hearts of young people forever? For one I know that for twenty years that sentence has haunted me, as being, more than any other, the true formula for the American man, the standard by wvhich each should train himself in self-education. I fancy that the secret of my allegiance to this woman lies in the shaping influence of that one sentence. Others have acknowledged the same debt to other stray phrases she uses,- her "lyric glimpses," as Emerson called them. Thus William Ilunt, the artist, acknowledged that a wholly new impulse of aspiration was aroused in him by a few stray words she had pencilled on the margin of a passage in Mrs. Jamiesonll's "Italian Painters." Even the narrative in this book, and its recorded conversations, show that she exerted on travelling acquaintances this stimiulating and utnlocking power. This showed its(elf with the Illinois farmers, "the large first product of the soil," and especially with that vanishing race, who can only be known through the sympathy of the imagination, the Indians. There is no book of travels, except, perhaps, lMrs. Jamneson's, which gives more access to those finer traits of Indian chli.racter that are disappearing, so fast amid persecution and demoral i

Page  187 MIARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. ization. But the book as a whole, is very frangmentary aniid episodical, and in this respect, as well as ill the wide rtl.igo of imerit and demerit in the verses here adcl there interspersed, it reminds one of Thoreau's " Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers." It is hardly possible, howvever, to regret these episodes, since one of them contains that rare piece of childish autobiography, "MIariana;" which is however separated from its conitext in her collected works. In 1844 she removed to New York. It is not the least of Hlor.ace Greeley's services to the nation, that he was willing to entrust the literary criticisms of the" Tribune" to one whose standard of culture was so far above that of his readers or his own. Nevertheless, there she remained for nearly two years, making fearless use of her great opportunity of inllfluence. She was dogmatic, egotistic, and liable to err; but in this she did not differ firom her fellow-critics. The point of difference was in the thoroughness of training, to which she had submitted, - at least in certain directions, -the elevation of her demands, her perfect independence, and her ready sympathy. With authors who deHanded flattery on the one side, and a public on the other vlwhich demanded only intellectual substance, and was almost indifferent to literary form, she bravely asserted that literature was to be regarded as an art. Viewing it thus, she demanded the highest; reputations, popularity, cliques, to her were nothing; she mig,ht be whimsical, but she was alwvays independent, and sought to try all by the loftiest standard. If she was ever biased by personal conlisiderations, - and this rarely happened, - it was always on the chivalrous side. Of all Americans thus far, she seems to me to have been born for a literary critic. One of her early associates said well " that she was no artist; she could never have written art epic, or roinance, or drama; yet no one knew better the qualities t 187

Page  188 188 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. which go to the making of these; and, though, catholic as to kind, no one was more rigidly exacting as to quality." She puts this still better in her own journal: " How can I ever write, with this impatience of detail? I shall never be an artist. I have no patient love of execution. I am delighted with,aly sketch, but if I try to finish it, I am chlilled. Never was there a great sculptor who did not love to chip the marble." But the very ftact that she was able to make this discrimination shows her critical discernment. There are not a dozen prose-writers in America who "love to chip the marble;" but so long as we do not discover the defect, we can neither do good work ourselves nor appreciate that of another. All iMarg,aret Fuller's books are very defective as to fornm; but because she saw the fault, she was able to criticise the books of others. She had also the rare quality of discerning both needs of the American mind, - originality and culture, - and no one, except Emerson, has done so much to brIidge the passage firom a tame and imitative epoch to a truly indigenous literature. 5Iost of us are either effeminated by education, or are left crude and rough by the want of it. She who so exquisitely delineated the Greek and PRoman culture in her filagment of autobiography, had yet the discernment te write in anl essay, "It wvas a melancholy praise bestowed 01on the German Iphigenia, that it was an echo of the Greek mind. Oh, give us something rather than Greece more Grecian, so new, so universal, so individual! It was, therefore, an event in the history of our literature, when a woman thus eminently gifted became the literary critic of the New York "TribLine," - then, and perhaps still, the journal p)ossessing, the most formative influence over the most active class of American minds. There were, of course, drawbacks upon her fitness. She was sometimes I

Page  189 MIARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. fantastic in her likings; so are most fastidious peol)ple; so is Emerson. She nmight be egotistical and overbl)earin. But she was honest and true. It was apt to l)e the strol)g, not the weak, whom she assailed. Her greatest errors were commnitted in vindicating those whom others attacked, or in dethroniing popular favorites to make room for obscurer merit. A different course would have made her life smoother and her memory less noblle. In her day, as now, there were few well-tr.ained writers in the country, and they had little leisure for criticism; so that work was chiefly left to boys. The few exceptions were cynics, like Poe, or universal fla.tterers, like Willis and Griswold. Into the midst of these came a woman with no gifts for conciliation, with no personal attractions, with a hab,it of saying things very explicitly and of using the first person singular a good deal too much. In her volLume of Papers on Literature and Art," published in 1846, there is a preface of three pages in which this unpleasant gram'natical form occurs just fifty times. This is very characteristic; she puts the worst side foremost. The pref.tce once ended, the rest of the book seems wise and gentle, and only egotistic here and there. Or at least, nothing, need be excepted from this claim, except the article on "American Literature "- the only essay in the book which had not been previously publ)lished. Gentle this was not always, nor could it be; and she furthermore apologized for it in the preface (wisely or unwisely), as prepared too hastily for a theme so difficult, and claimed only that it was "written with sincere and earnest feeling,s, and firom a mind that cares for nothiong but what is permanent and essential." "It should, then," she adds, "have some merit, if only in the power of su(ggestion." It certainly has such merit. It is remarkable, after twenty years, to see how many of her judglments have been confirmed by the public 189 i

Page  190 190 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. mind. How well, for instance, she broughlt forth from obscurity the then forgotten genius of Charles Brockden Brown; how just were her delineations of Bryant, Willis, Dana, Halleck; how well she described Prescott, then at his culmination, -his industry, his wealth of material, his clear and elegant arrangement, and his polished tameness! So much the public could endure. It was when she touched Longfellow and Lowell that her audience, or that portion of it which dwelt round Boston, grew clamorously indignant. In reverting, after twenty years, to these criticisms, one perceives that the community must have grown more frank or less sensitive. There seems no good reason why they should have made so much stir. There is no improper personality in them, and, though they may be incorrect, they are not unfair. She frankly confesses to "a coolness towards Mr. Longfellow, in consequence of the exaggerated praise bestowed upon him. When we see a person of moderate powers receive honors which should be reserved for the hig,hest, we feel somewhat like assailing him and taking from him the crown which should be reserved for grander brows. And yet this is peehaps ungenerous." She then goes on to point out the atmosphere of overpraise which has always surrounded this poet, - says that this is not justly chargeable onl himself, but onl his admirers, publishers, and portraitpainters; and adds in illustration that the likeness of him in the illustrated edition of his worlks su,ggests the impression of a " dandy Pindar." This phrase, I remember, gave great offence at the time; yet, on inspection of that rather smnirking portrait, it proves to be a flir description; and she expressly disclaims all application of the phrase to the poet himself. She defends him from Poe's charges of specific plagiarism, and points out, very justly, that these accusations only proceed from somethingc imitative and foreign in many I I

Page  191 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. of his ima,ges and ill the atmosphere of much of his verse. She says, as many have felt, that he sees nature, whether human or external, too much throu,ghl the windows of literature, and finally assigns him his place as "a man of cultivated taste, delicate though' not deep feeling, and some, though not muchl, poetic force." This may not be an adequate statement of the literary claims of Longfellow; but it certainly does not differ so widely from the probable final award as to give just ground for complaint against the critic. It is also recorded by sir. Greeley that she only consented to review Longfellow's poems with the greatest reluctance, and at the editor'.sparticular request, "assigning the wide divergence of her views of poetry from those of the author and his school as the reason." Towards Lowell she showed more asperity. Yet there was nothingi personal in her remarks, even here; there was simply anl adverse literary criticism, conveyed with a slight air of arrogance. To preface anl opinion with "We must declare it, thoughl to the grief of some friends and the disgust of more," was undoubtedly meant for a deprecatory and regretful expression; but it had a sort of pompous effect that did not soften the subsequent brief verdict. She declared him "absolutely wanting in the true spirit and tone of poesy," with the addition that "his interest in the moral questions of the day had supplied the want of vitality in himself." Even this last statement was far too strong, no doubt. Yet it will now be admitted by Lowell's warmest admirers that his poetic phases have been singularly coincident with his phases of moral enthusiasm. His early development of genius was united with extreme radicalism of position; then followed many years, comprising the prime of his life, when both his genius and his enthusiasm seemed quiescent. It was the unforeseen stimutlus of the war which made him again put on his singing robes, for that "Commemoration 191

Page  192 192 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Ode," which is incomparably the greatest of his poems. All this vindicated in some degree the discernment, though it could not justify the sweeping manner of MIargaret Fuller's criticism; and her tone of arrogance is more than counterbalanced by the fierce personalities with which the poet retaliated upon her ill the " Fablle for Critics." The criticisms on English poets in this collection seem to me singularly admirable; they take rank with those of Elizabeth Barrett Brownilng, in her " Essays on the Poets." There are many single phrases that are unsurpassed ill insight and expression, as where she speaks of the " strange, bleak fidelity of Crabbl)e." "Give Coleridge a cainv.a," she says, "and he will paint a picture as if his colors were made of the mind's own atoms." "The rush, the flow, the delicacy of vibration in Shlelley's verse can only be paralleled by the waterfall, the rivulet, the notes of the bird and of the insect world." "It is as yet impossible to estimate dtly the effect which the balm of his [WAVordsworth's] meditations has had in allaying the fever of the public heart, as exhibited in Byron and Shelley." This is a rare series of condensed criticisms, on authors about whom so much has been written, and her remarks on the new men - Sterling, Henry Taylor, and Browning -were almost as good. She was one of the first in America to recognize the gernius of Browningi, and, while his Bells and Pomegranates" was yet in course of publication, she placed him at the head of contemporary English poets. There is much beside, in these rich volumes; a brief criticism on "Hamlet," for instance, in one of the dialocgues, vwhich is worthy to take rank with those of Mrs. Jameson; and an essay on "Sir James Mackintosh," which, in calm completeness and thorough workmanship, was her best work, as it was one of her latest. Indeed, the "Papers on Literature and Art" always seemed to me her best book; far superior to the I

Page  193 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. "Woman in the Nineteenth Century" (published two years previously), which was perhaps framed on too large a scale for one who had so little constructive power. It was noblo in tone, enlightened in its statements, and full of suggestion; yet after all it was crude and disconnected in its execution. But the " Papers" have been delightful reading, to me at least, for twenty years, and I could quote many a sentence which has passed into my bone and marrow, as have those of Emerson. "Trag,edy is always a mistake." "The difference between heartlessness and the want of a deep heart." "We need to hear the excuses men make to themselves for their worthlessness." " It needs not that one of deeply thoughtful mind be passionate, to divine all the secrets of passion. Thought is a bee that cannot miss those flowers." And so on. The only complaint I should make in regard to this book is founded on its title," Papers on Literature and Art." With art, save as included in literature, she should not have meddled. At least, she should have dealt only with the biography and personal traits of artists, -not with their work. One of her early friends said that the god Terminus presided over her intellect; but to me it seems that she did not always recognize her own limits. A French wit said that there were three thlings he had loved very much, without knowing anything, about them, - music, painting, and women. Margaret Fuller loved all three, and understood the last. If, however, she was thus tempted beyond her sphere, it was less perhaps from vanity than because she yielded to the demand popularly made on all our intellectual laborers, that they should scatter themselves as much as possible. Literary work being as yet crude and unorganized in America, the public takes a vague delight in seeing one person do a great many different things. It is like hearing a street musician perform on six instruments at once; he plays them all ill, but it is so remarkable that he should play them together. If we 13 193 II

Page  194 194 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. have a stirring pulpit orator, he must try his hand on a novel; if a popular editor, he must write a history of the rebellion. Alarg,aret Fuller, under the same influence, wrote oil painting and music, and of course wrote badly. As to this whole charge of vanity, indeed, there have certainly been great exaggerations. She had by inheritance certain unpleasant tricks of manner, which gave the impression, as Emerson said, of "a rather mountainous Me." She was accustomed to finding herself among inferiors, and lorded it a little in her talk. She was also obliged, as a woman, to fight harder than others, first for an education and then for a career. All these influences marred her, in some degree; and those whom her criticisms wounded, made the most of the result. But though her most private diaries and letters have been set before the public, I do not see that anything has been produced which shows a petty or conceited disposition, while she has certainly left on record many noble disclaimers. A woman who could calmly set aside all the applauses she received for her wonderful conversation by pointing out to herself that this faculty "bespoke a second-rate mind," could not have had her head turned by vanity. At another time she wrote in her diary, " When I look at my papers, I feel as if I had never had a thought that was worthy the attention of any but myself; and'tis only when, onl talking with people, I find I tell them what thev did not know, that mny confidence at all returns." In truth, she was not made of pure intellect; if that quality marks men (which I have never discovered), then she wvas essentially a woman. "Of all whom I have known," wrote one of her female friends, "she was the largest woman, and not a woman who wished to be a man." And one of her friends of the other sex wrote of her, " The dry light which Lord Bacon loved she never knew; her light was life, was love, was warm with sympathy, and a boundless energy of 4

Page  195 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. affection and hope." The self-devotion of her closing years brought no surprise to those who remembered how she had sacri ficed her most cherished plans for the sake of educating her brothers; and how she had through all her life been ready to spend money and toil for those around her, whenll she had little money and no health. She gave to the communl ity, also, the better boon of moral courage; it showed itself most conspicuously in the telling of unwelcome truth; but it was manifested also in heroic endurance, since she was, as Mr. Emerson has testified, "all her life the victim of disease and pain." Her life thus did more for the intellectual enfranchisement of American women than was done by even her book on the subject, though that doubtless did much, exerting a permanent influence on many minds. No one has ever given so compact a formula for the requirements of woman. She claims for her sex "not only equMal power with man,- for of that omnipotent nature will never permit her to be defrauded, - but a chartered power, too fully recognized to be abused." Never were there ten words which put the whole principle of impartial suffrage so plainly as these. And even where her statements are less clear, they always rest on wise reflection, not on any one-sided view. Thus, for instance, she showed better than most her faith in the eternal laws which make woman unlike man,- for she was ready to trust these laws instead of legislating to sustain them. She knew that there was no fear of woman's unsexing herself. Nature has pointed out her ordinary sphere by the circumstances of her physical existence. She cannot wander far.... Achilles had long plied the distaff as a princess, yet at first sight of a sword, he seized it. So with woman, - one hour of love would teach her more of her proper relations than all your formulas." After twenty months of happy life and labor in New York, 195

Page  196 196 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIlE AGE. she sailed for Europe, thus fulfilling the design abla,ldoaoed eleven years before, when her home duties demanded the sacrifice. She published in the "Trilbune" (Aug. ], 1846), a cordial and almost enthusiastic Farewell to New York," thanking the great city for all it had been to her. She had found no more of evil there than elsewhere, she said, and more of sympathy, and there was at least nothing petty or provincial. Perhaps, after visiting Europe, she thought differently. New York does not at first seem provincial to a Bostonian, nor Paris to a New Yorker; but all great cities boon show themselves provincial, by their disproportioned self-estimate, their tiresome local gossip, and their inability to tolerate real independence. Still it was good for one, who lived her life as strongly as MIarg,aret Fuller, to seek the largest atmosphere she could find, and win her own emancipation at last. Over the tragic remainder of her life I shall pass but lightly, for I have preferred to reverse the proverb and be the historian of her' times of peace alone. It is because they w e r e not really her times of peace, but only her traiining for final action; besides, it was during those years that she was most misconstrued and maligned; and it is more interesting to dwell on this period than to add a garland where all men p r a i s e. Enough to say that in that later epoch all the undue self-culture of her earlier life was corrected, and all its selfd e v o t i o n found a surer outlet. That "hour of love" of w h ich she hAd written came to her, and all succeeding hours w e r e enriched and ennobled. Throwing herself ill t o the strug gle for a nation's life, blending this great interest with the devotion due to her Italian husband, she lived a career that then seemed unexampled for an American woman, though our war has since afforded many parallels. During the siege of Rome, in 1848, the greater part of her time was passed in the hospital " dee Pellegrini," which was put under her spe \~

Page  197 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. cial direction. "The weather was intensely hot; her health was feeble and delicate; the dead and dying were around her in every sta,ge of pain and horror; but she never shrank from the duty she had assumed." "I have seen," wrote the American consul, Mr. Cass, "the eyes of the dying, as she moved among them, extended on opposite beds, meet in commendation of her universal kindness." She was married in Italy, during the year 1847, to Giovanni Angelo, Marquis Ossoli, -a man younger than herself, and of less intellectual culture, but of simple and noble nature. He had given up rank and station in the cause of the Roman Republic, while all the rest of his family had espoused the other side; and it was this bond of sympathy which first united them. Their child, Angelo Philip Eugene Ossoli, was born at Rieti, September 5th, 1848. After the fall of the republic it was necessary for them to leave Rome, and this fact, joined with her desire to print in America her history of the Italian struggle, formed the main reasons for their return to this country. They sailed from Leghorn, May 17th, 1850, in the barque Elizabeth, Captain Hasty. Singular anticipations of danger seem to have hung over their departure. "Beware of the sea" had been a warning given Ossoli by a fortune-teller, in his youth, and he had never before been on board a ship. Various omens have combined," wrote his wvife, "to give me a dark feeling." " In case of mishap, however, I shall perish with my husband and child." Againi she wrote, It seems to me that my fiuture on earth will soon close." "I have a vague expectation of some crisis, I know not what. But it has long seemed that in the year 1850 I should stand on a plateau in the ascent of life, where I should be allowed to pause for a while and take a more clear and commanding view than ever before. Yet nmy life proceeds as regularly as the fates of a Greek trageldy. and I can but accept the pages as they turns" I 197

Page  198 198 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. As they were leaving Florence at the last moment, letters arrived which would probably have led them to remain in Italy, had not all preparations been made. And on the very day of sailing, in Leghorn, Margaret lingered for a final hour on shore, almost unable to force herself to embark. It seemed as if there were conflicting currents in their destiny, which held them back while they urged them forward. Their voyage was very long, and the same shadow still appeared to hang over them. The captain of the barque, in whom they had placed the greatest confidence, soon sickened and died of malignant small-pox, and was buried off Giblraltar. They sailed thence on June 9th. Two days after, the little Angelo was attacked with the same fearful disease, and only recovered after an illness that long seemed hopeless. On July 15th, they made the New Jersey coast at noon, and stood to the north-east, the weather being thick, and the wind south-east. The passengelrs packed their trunks, assured that they should be landed at New York the next morning. By nine o'clock the wind had risen to a gale, and this, with the current, swept them much farther to the north than was supposed. At two and a half, A. M., the mate in command took soundings, found twenty-one fathoms of water, pronounced all safe, and retired to his berth. One hour afterwards, the bark struck on Fire Island beach, just off Long Island. The main and mizen masts were at once cut away, but the ship held by the bow, and careened towards the land, every wave sweeping over her, and carrying away every boat. She was heavily laden with marble and soon bilged. The passengers hastily left their berths and collected ill the cabin, which was already half full of water. They braced themselves as well as they could, against the windward side. Little Aingelo cried, the survivors say, until his mother satng him to sleep, while Ossoli quieted the rest with prayer. 4 I k

Page  199 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. The crew were at the forward end of the vessel; and when the wreck seemed ready to go to pieces, the second mate, Mir. Davis, came aft to the cablin with two sailors, and helped tLie passengers to a safer place. This transfer was made terribly dangerous by the breaking surf. The captaii's wife, who went first, was once swept away, and was caught only by her hair. Little Angelo was carried in a canvas bag, hung round the neck of a sailor. Passengers and crew were now crowded round the foremast, as the part likely to last longest. Here they remained for several hours. MIen were seen collecting on the beach, but there was no li fe-boat. After a time, two sailors succeeded in reaching the shore, the one with a lifepreserver, the other with a spar. Then Mr. Davis, the courageous mate, bound the captain's wife to a plank, and swam with her to the shore, where she arrived almost lifeless. The distance was less than a hundred yairds, but the surf was fearful. Madame Ossoli was urged to attempt the passage as Mrs. hIasty had done, but steadily refuised to be separated from her husband and child. Time was passing; the tide was out; the sea grew for the time a little calmer. It was impossible to built a raft, and there was but this one chance of escape before the tide returned. Still the husband and wife declined to be parted; and, seeing them resolute, the first mate ordered the crew to save themselves, and most of them leaped overboard. It was now past three o'clock; they had been there twelve hours. At lengthl the tide turned, and the gale rose higher. The after part of the vessel broke away, and the foremast shook with every wave. From this point the accounts vary, as is inevitable. It seems however to be agreed, that the few remnaining sailors had again advised the Ossolis to leave the wreck; and that the steward had just taken little Angelo in his arms to try to bear him ashore, when a more powerful 199 II

Page  200 200 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. sea swept over, and the mast fell, carrying, with it the deck, and all on board. Ossoli was seen to catch for a moment at the rigging, and then to sink. The last recorded glimpse of MIargaret was when she was seated at the foot of the mast, in her white night-dress, with her hair fallen loose about her shoulders. Their bodies were never found; but that of the little Angelo was cast upon the beach twenty minutes after, and was reverently buried among the sand-hills by the sailors, one of whom gave his chest for a coffin. The remains were afterwards transferred to Mount Auburn cemetery, near Boston, and there reinterred in presence of weeping kinsfolk, who had never looked upon the living beauty of the child. It was the expressed opinion of one who visited the scene, a few days after, that seven resolute men could have saved all on board the "Elizabeth." The life-boat fiom Fire Island light-house, three miles off, was not brought to the beach till noon, and was not launched at all. For a time the journals were full of the tragedy that had taken away a life whose preciousness had not been fully felt till then. But uow, looking, through the vista of nearly twenty years, even this great grief appears softened by time. The very forebodings which preceded it seem now to sanctify that doom of a household, and take firom its remembrance the sting. Three months before, in planning her departure, this wife and mother had thus unconsciously accepted her coming fate: Safety is not to be secured by the wisest foresight. I shall embark more composedly in our merchant-ship, praying fervently, indeed, that it may not be my lot to lose my boy at sea, either by unlsolaced illness or amid the howling waves; or, if so, that Ossoli, Angelo, and I may go together, and that the anguish may be brief." Her prayer was fulfilled. I

Page  201 MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI. The precious manuscript, for whose publication her friends and the friends of Italy had looked with eagerness, was lost in the shipwreck. Her remaining works were reprinted in Boston, a few years later, under the careful editorship of her brother Arthur; - that "Chaplain Fuller," who had been educated by her self-sacrifice, and who afterwards gailned a place beside hers, in the heart of the nation, by his heroic death at Fredericksburg, during the late rebellion. I-Ier biography has also been amply written by the friends whom she would most readily have selected for the task, MIessrs. Emerson, Clarke, and Channin,g. Since her day, American literature has greatly widened its base, but has raised its summit no higher. There is a multiplicity of books and magazines, and a vast illncrease of untrained literary activity. Yet, not only has she had no successor among women, but we still miss throuoghout our criticism her culture, her insight, her fearlessness, her generous sympathies, and her resolute purpose to apply the highest artistic standard to the facts of American life. It is this sense of loss that is her true epitaph. It was said to have been Fontenelle's funeral oration, when the most brilliant woman in France, having uttered after his death a witticism too delicate for her audience, exclaimed sadly, Fontenelle! where are you?" And so every American author, who has a higher aim than to amuse, or a nobler test of merit than his publishers' account, must feel that something is wanting while Margaret Fuller's place remains unfilled. 0 201

Page  202 e 202 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. GAIL HAMILTON-MISS DODGE. BY FANNY FERN. "WILL I write a sketch of Gail Hamilton?" Will I touch off a Parrott gun? I thought, an; will it "kick" if I do? However, I ventured to send the following missive: - " MY DEAR MISS DODGE, OTHERWISE GAIL HAMILTON: - A book is in prospect. Many of our well-known literary people are to write for it. Its title is to be'Eminent Women of the Time.' You and I are to be in it. I am to do you. Who is to serve me up, the gods only know. Will you be good enough to inform me at your earliest convenience, when and where you cut your first tooth, whether you had the measles before the mumps, or the mumps before the measles; also, any other interesting items about yourself. Writing about you will be a labor of love with me; for although a stranger to you, save through your writings, I rejoice every day in your existence. "Please send an early answer. "Yours, etc., "FANNY FERN." In a few days I received the following reply: - et IY DEAR MRS. FERN: -The coolness of you New Yorkers is astonishing. You are about to burn me at tho .,

Page  203 GAIL HAMILTON. stake, and will I have the goodness to send on shavings alid dry wood by the next mail? "Thank you, ma'am, I will. " LIFE AND SUFFERINGS OF " GAIL HAMILTON. "4WRITTEN BY ITSELF. AND WITH FORMER TRANSLATIONS DILIGENTLY COMPARED AND REVISED. "To the best of my knowledge and belief, I was born in the'New York Independent,' some time during the latter half of the present century, and before the'Independent' had been annexed to the domains of Theodore, King of Abyssinia, against whom the great powers have just advanced an expedition. Simultaneously, or thereabouts, I was also born ill the 'National Era.' So I must be twins. On that ground it has never been satisfactorily settled, whether I am myself or Mrs. Simpson, of Washington. If I am Mrs. Simpson, I anm the wife of an officer, who, to his infinite regret, was not killed in the late unpleasantness, and am a lineal descendant of that Simple Simon, who once went a-fishing for to catch a whlale, though all the water that he had was ill his mother's pail. If I am not Launcelot, nor another, but only my own self, I am like MIlelchisedec, without father, without mother, without descent, and my enemies fear, also, I have no end of life. On one point comnmeutat6rs are agreed,- that I am not an 'Eminent Woman' of my time, and therefore have no part nor lot in your book. In fact I am " Neither man nor wvoman, I am neither brute nor human, I'm a ghoul! "And all that I ask is to be let alone. From the' Independenit' I graduated into the'Congregationalist,' of blessed memory; and from the'Era' I paddled over into the'Atlantic.' I flourish in immortal vigor on the cover of' Our 203

Page  204 204 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Young Folks,' and at sundry times, and in livers other manners and places, have, I fear, contributed to the deterioration of our youth. I sadly confess, also, that I am guilty of as many books as Mrs. Rogers had small children; but being written in love, and in the spirit of meekness, they are held in high esteem, especially of men. Whereunlto I also add, like St. Paul, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the churches. Such, unhappy fellow-sufferer, is my thrilling story. If any one shall add unto these things, let him tremble lest I imprecate upon him all the plagues of the Apocalypse; and if any person shall dare saddle any other man or woman with the sins which I alone have perpetrated, I say prophetically to such saddler,'Lord Angus, thou hast' Thanking, you for your friendly words, and rejoicing, like King David in his great strait, that I am not to fall into the hands of man, "I am very respectfully, "GAIL HAiMILTON. Respectfully, that is, if you respect my rights; but I shall have a lifelong quarrel even with you, if you spread before the public anything which I myself have not given to the public. I have really very strong opinions on that point; and, notwithstanding its commonness, I consider no crime more radically heinous than the violation of privacy. You must have suffered from it too severely yourself to be surprised at any abhorrence of it on my part. I most heartily wish you could find it in your plan to leave me out in the cold. Of course, if you judge from my writings that I am a woman, you can say what you please about that woman, that writer, and I have neither the wish nor the right to say you nay. So much of the woman as appears in an author's writings is public property by her own free will. All the I

Page  205 GAIL HAMILTON. rest belongs to her reserved rights. I pray you speak, if speak you must, so wisely as to make this clear. Launch thunderbolts, or sing songs, as you find fit; but read the preface of my first book,'Country living and Country Thinking,' and govern yourself accordingly; and I shall be, without any condition, and poatively the last time, Yours very truly, GAIL HA-IILTON." Upon the receipt of this I wrote again, requesting permission to give the public the above characteristic epistle; which I told her was altogether too good to be buried in my desk; adding that, if she wanted me to behlve prettily, she should not threaten me, as a threat always made me "balky;" that it was quite useless also, because I wished and intended to handle her as tenderly as would her own " manmmy." I received a reply, of which this is a part: "DEAR FANNY: - Do whatever you like with the letter; I don't care, and don't think you'must handle me tenderly.' Say anything, and everything you like; storm or shine within your'sphere.' You don't like threats: strange, -but I will give you one more. If you do write a paper on me, and do not put in any of those impertinences which are so common in newspapers, but confine yourself to that which is common and lawful plunder, I shall not only put you a notch higher than the general run of people, but I shall keep a select corner for you in my private regard and gratitude, where you can come and take a nap by yourself, any time. Now'balk' if you dare I GAIL HAMILTON." This, dear reader, by way of preface. Now allow me to say that there are only two things in this world I am afraid of, - 205

Page  206 206 EMINENT VWOMIEN OF THE AGE. one is a mouse, the other is a woman. My first impulse on being brought face to face with either, is to jump upon the nearest chair or table. Judge, then, how dear the public must seem, in my eyes, when, ignoring this my chronic terror, I boldly march up to the indomitable lady, whose name graces the head of this article, and attempt to sketch her: A lady, at whose mention stalwart men have been known to tremble, and hide in conlers; who "keeps a private graveyard "for the burial of those whom she has mercilessly slain; who respects neither the spectacles of the judge, nor the surplice of the priest; who holds the mirror up to men's failings till they hate their wives merely because they belong to her sex; this lady who blushes not to own that she is "a Ghoul," -who lately impaled the Rev. Dr. Todd on the point of her lance, and left him writhing without so much as pouring a drop of oil on to his wounds, or bathing his very soft head; this lady who keeps defiantly doing it, although she has been told that notwithstaldiliig she has amassed several pennies, the fruits of these wicked promulgations, and deposited the same in banks for a rainy day, the sex whom she defies may, contrary to their usual custom in such cases, refuse ,ven to nibble at that bait, and doom her to die, without a chance to sew on shirt-buttons, or " seat" a pair of trowsers. One naturally inquires how such a female monster came to exist? In other and more ele(gant phrase, " whLat di it?" WVas she, like Romulus and Remus, suckled by a she-wolf in her infancy? Were vipers her cherished toys in childhood? WAas her youth defrauded of the usual sugar-plums that she keeps on making mouths a$ her fellow-creatures in this way? Or, what is still more important to ascertain, is there any way she could be pacified, or bought otf, or " shut up," from this infernal attempt to set women upon their feet, and to trip men from off theirs. To convince you how pertinent is my question, I will Jo

Page  207 GAIL HAMILTON. quote ill this connection a few of her most incendiary passages: - "It costs a woman just as much to live as it does a man. If men were willing to practise the small economies that women practise, they could live at no greater expense." Man is a thief, and holds the bag, and if women do not like what they get, so much the better. They will be all the more willing to become household drudges." Make a man understand that he shall eat his dinner like a gentleman, or he shall have no dinner to eat. If he will be crabbed and gulp, let him go down into the coal-bin and have it out alone; but do not let him bring his Feejee-ism into the dining-room, to defile the presence of his wife, and corrupt the manners of his children." "A woman should dress so as to be grateful to her husband's eye, I grant; nay, I enjoin; and he is under equally strong obligations to dress so as to be grateful to her eye. I have heard a woman say variety in dress is necessary in order that her husband may not be wearied. But does a man ever think of having several winter coats, or summer waistcoats, so that his wife may not weary of him? And if a manl buys his clothes, and wears them according to his needs, why shall not a woman do the same? Is there any law or gospel forcing a woman to be pleasant to her husband, while the husbandcl is left to do that which is right in his own eye? Or are the visual org ans of a man so much more exquisitely arranged than those of a woman, that special adaptations must be made to them, while a woman may see whatever happens to be a la mode? Or has a manes dress intrinsically so much more beauty and character than a woman's that less pains need be taken to make it charming?" "Take example from the toad," Gail says to her sisters; swallow your dress, not precisely in the same sense, but as 207

Page  208 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. effectually. Overpower, subordinate your dress, till it shall be only a second cuticle, not to be distinguishled firom yourself, but a natural element of your universal harmony." " Women's work is a round of endless detail. Little insignificant, provoking items, that she gets no credit for doing, but fatal discredit for leaving undone. Nobody notices that things are as they should be; but if things are not as they should be, it were better for her that a millstone were hanged about her neck." The best women, the brightest women, the noblest women, are the very ones to whom house-keeping is the most irksome. I do not mean house-keeping with well-trained servants; for that is general enough to admit'a brother near the throne,' but that alas! is almost unknown in the world wherein I have lived; and a woman who is satisfied with the small economies, the small interests, the constant contemplation of small things which a household demands, is a very small sort of woman. I make the assertion both as an inference and as an observation. A noblle discontent, not a peevish complaining, btlt a universal and a spontaneous protest, is a woman's safeguard against the deterioration which such a life threatens, and her proof of capacity, and her note of preparation for a higher. Such a woman does not do her work less well, but she rises superior to her work." " Allen do not believe, so much as they profess to, this menial gravitation. If they did they would never lecture women so much about it. TThe very frenzy and frequency of their exhortations are sustpicious." " Some men dole out money to their wives as if it were a gift, a charity, something to which the latter have no right, but which they must receive as a favor, and for which they must be thankful. Now a man has no more right to his earnings than his wife has; they belong to her as much as to him. As a general rule the fate and fortunes of the family lie in her 208 I I

Page  209 GAIL lHAMILTON. hallds as much as in his. What absurdity to pay hinm his wages and to give her money to go shopping with! The money should be regularly and mechanically supplied to her as the dinner, exciting, no more comment, and needing no more argument. Whether it is kept in her pocket or his may be of small moment; but as she does not lock up the dinner in the cupboard, and tlhen stand at the door andcl dole it out to him by the plateful, but sets it on the table for him to help himself, so it is better and more pacific that he should deposit the money in an equally neutral and accessible locality. I portray to myself the flutter which such a proposition wouldl raise in many marital bosoms. Would that they milght be soothed. It is well known among farmers that hens will not cat so much if you set a measure of corn where they can pick whenever they choose, as they will if you only fling a handful now and then, and keep them continually halfstarved. At the same time they will be in better condition. So, looking at the matter from the very lowest stand-point, a woman who has free access to the money will not be half so likely to l.tvishl it, as the woman who is put off witlh scanty and ilnfrequent sums. "It is marvellous to see the insensibility with Whlich men manag,e these delicate matters. It is impossible for a man to be too scrupulous, too chivalrous, too refined, in his bearing towvards his wife. The very act of receivil)g moneyfiroul hini puts her in a position so equivocal that the utmost affection and attention should be brought into play to reassure her. Yet men will deliberately, in the presence of their wives, to their wives, groanl over the cost of living. They do not mean extravaganit purchases of silk and velvet which niight be a wvife's fault or thoughtlessness, and furnish an excuse for rebluke; but the butcher's bill, and the grocer's bill, and the joitier's bill. Manl, when a woman isb married, do you think she loses all personal feeling? Do you think your 209 14 0

Page  210 ESIINENT VWOMIEN OF TIlE AGE. glum look over the expenses of house-keeping, is a fulfilment of your promise to love and cherish? Does it bring sunshine, and lighten toil, and bless her with knightly grace? Do you not know that it is only a way of regretting that you married her? You go out to your shop, or sit down to your newspaper, and forget all about it. She sits down to her sewing, or stands over her cooking-stove, and meditates upon it with indescribable pain. These very men, whlo complain because it costs so much to live, will lose by bad debts more than their wives spend; they will, by sheer negligence, by a selfish reluctance to present a bill to a disagreeable person, by a cowardly fear lest insisting on what is due should alienate a customer, -by indorsing a note, or lending money, through mere want of courage to say No, - lose money enough to foot up a dozen bills. They waste money in cigars; in sending, packages by express, rather than have the trouble to take them themselves; in buying luxuries which they were better without. A man is persistently, perversely, and with malice aforethought, extravagant. He is so, in spite of admonition and remonstrance. Where his personal conmfort or interest is concerned, he scorns a sacrifice. He laughs at the suggestion that such a little thing makes any difference one way or another." This is a long, extract from Miss Hamilton, but every word is solid gold, and should be printed and framed and hung up in every husband's well, wheresoever he keeps his cigars, so that hlie would be sure to see it. I myself have heard a man ask a wife who had borne them twelve children, and who was an economical, painstakilig, thrifty house-keeper, "What she did with the last dollar he gave her?" True, men do not like to see this unpleasant reflection of themselves in our authlor's glass; but that is no reason why she should smash it. .And as she once remarked to a married lady, who told her 210

Page  211 GAIL HAMILTON. that her husband was greatly incensed at her mention of such things: Well, - let him rasp, - he is no husband of mine!" At this safe distance, thisParrott gun of a woman explodes the following, for which I confess a hearty relish: "A father goes into the nursery, and has a merry romp with his children; but when he is tired, or they take too many liberties, he goes out, and thinks his children very charming,. When papa comes in, the children are often hurried out of sight and sound, for they will'disturb papa.' This kind woman shuts them up carefully withit' her own precincts. They may overrun her without stint. They may climb her chair, pull her work about, upset her basket, scratch the bureau, cut the sofa, turn to her for healing in every little heartache; but no matter. They are kept from'disturbing papa!' I am amazed at the folly of women! Kept from distiubing papa! Rather hound them on! Put the crying baby in his arms the moment he enters the house, and be sure to run away at once beyond reach, or, with true masculine ingenuity, he will be sure at the end of five minutes to find some pretext for delivering the young orator back into your care. He ought to experience their obviousness, their inconvenience, their distraction. Let him come into close contact with his children, and see what tlhey are, and what they do, and he will have far more just ideas of the whole subject than if he stands far off, andfyom old theories on the one side, and ten nminutes of clean apron and bright faces on the other, pronounces his euphonious generalizations. His children will elicit as much love and interest, together with a great deal more knowledge, and a great deal less silly, manaiiish sentimentalism." I italicize the last sentence, as one of the choicest and most 211

Page  212 212 EMINENT WOMEN OF- THE AGE. sensible verses in Miss Gail's new gospel. i really think 1 couldn't have done better myself I - Read this, too: "Men often have too much confidence in their measuringlines. They fancy they have fathomed a soul's depths when they have but sounded its shallows. They think they have circumnavigated the globe, when they have only paddled in a cove. They trim their sails for other seas, leaving the priceless gems of their own undiscovered. Many a wife is wearied and neglected into moral shabbiness, who, rightly entreated, would have walked sister and wife of the gods." As our author's books are for sale, perhaps I should remember the fact, and curb my desire to copy all her very just and very intrepid sayings; but here is one which every husband should pin into the crown of his hat: — "Men, -you to whose keeping, a womanl's heart is en trusted, - can you heed this simple prayer, Love me, and tell me so sometimzes?" Our author has probably heard husbands reply to this: "Why, thcat is of course understood; it is childish to wish or expect such a thing put into words." Nowv, without stopping to discuss the " childishness" of it, if it makes a wife happier, is it wise, or best, for a husband to overlook that fact? And sure I am, many a wife loses all heart for her monotonous round of duties for the want of it; beside, when men the world over have promulgated the fact that women are but grown-up children," where's the harm of being childish?" Does not Gail Hamilton see anything commendable, or virtuous, or honorable, or manly in men? is the question some I ;v

Page  213 GAIL HAMILTON. times propounded by them; after which follows this slut,gshot: " She must have been very unfortunate in her selection of male acquaintances." Leaving this last unworthy slur in the kennel where it belongs, listen to the following from the lady in question: - Every-day occurrences reveal in men traits of disinter estedness, consideration, all Christian virtues and graces. My heart misgives me when I think of it all, - their loving kindness, their forbearance, their unstinted service, their integrity, and of the not sufficiently unfrequent instances in which women, by fretfulness, folly, or selfishness, irritate and alienate the noble heart which they oulght to prize above rubies. Considering the few good husbands there are in the world, and how many good women there are, who would have been to them a crown of glory had the coronation been effected, but who instead are losing all their pure gems down the dark, unfathomed caves of some bad manl's heart; considering this, I account that woman to whom has been allotted a good husband, and who can do no better than to spoil him and his happiness by her misbehavior, guilty, if not of the unpardonable sin, at least of unpardonable stupidity. I could make out a long listof charges against women, and of excellences to be set down to the credit of men. But women have been stoned to death, or at least to coma, with charges already; and when you would extricate a wagon from a -slough, you put your shoulder first and heaviest to the wheel that is the deepest in the nmud; especially if the other wheel would hardly be in at all unless this one had pulled it in!" There - after this who shall speak? Not I. It is a fitting finale to the whole subject. Gail Hamilton needs no lawyer when her case appears in court. But there may exist benig,hted human beings who have not read her summing,s up; 213

Page  214 214 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. or have declined reading them, because it is so much easier to decide upon a question when you only look at one side of it, For their benefit I have culled a few nettles, whose wholesome pricking may let out some bad blood, and prepare for them a more healthful mental and moral condition. There is no necessity for thanks on their part, as the workl has really been its own reward. Now, if my readers suppose that there is " no fun;' in our author, or that she looks only at the shady side of every subject, let them read the following extract firom her "GalaDays - "I don't know how it is, but in all the novels that I have read, the heroines always have delicate, spotless, exquisite gloves, which are continually lying about in the garden paths, and which lovers are constantly picking up, and pressing to their hearts and lips, and treasuring in little golden boxes or something, and saying how like that soft glove, pure and sweet, is to the beloved owner; and it is all very pretty,-but I cannot think how they manage it. I am sure I should be very sorry to have my lovers go about picking up my gloves. I don't have them a week before they change color; the thumb gapes at the base, the little finger rips away from the next one, and they all burst out at the ends; a stitch drops in the back, and slides down to the wrist before you know it is started. You can mend, to be sure, but for every darn you've twenty holes. I admire a dainty glove as much as any one; I look with enthusiasm not unmingled with despair, at these gloves of romance; but such things do not depend entirely upon taste, as male writers seem to think. A pair of gloves cost a dollar and a half, or two dollars, and when you have them, your lovers do not find them in the summerhouse. Why not? Because they are lying snugly wrapped in oiled silk in the upper bureau-drawer, only to be.taken out

Page  215 GAIL HAMILTON. on great occasions. You would as soon thinkl of wearing Victoria's crown for a head-dress as those gloves on a picnic. So it happens that the gloves your lovers find will be sure to be Lisle thread, and dingy and battered at that; for how can you pluck flowers, and pull vines, and tear away mosses, without getting them dingy and battered? And the most fastidious lover in the world cannot expect you to buy a new pair every time. For me, I keep my gloves as long.its the backs hold together, and go around for forty-five weeks of the fifty-two with my hands clenched into fists to cover omissions." And now you will naturally say to me, - This is all very well; but tell us something about her personally. Where does she live; and how? Is she single or wedded? Is she tall or short? Plain or pretty? Has she made money as well as made mouths? In short, let us have a little gossip. That's what we are after. Don't I know it? I should thilnk I had been laid on the gridiron times enough myself to understand yotir al)ppetite. W~ell - here goes. Gail Hiamilton's" real name is Mary Abigail Dodge. HIer birthplace is in IHamilton, Maassalchusetts. She is unmarried, a Cailvinist, and an authoress from choice. Her father was a fatrmer. Her mother produced Gail Hamilton; that is sufficient as far as she is colncerned. She had a brother, who Mrs. Grundy declares is the " lalicarnassus" mentioned in her books, and whom the men she has flag'ellated in her writings call "poor devil! " supplosing him to be her husband! She was brought up as New England girls are generally brought up in the country-, simnply, healthfully, purely; with plenty of fences for gymnastics; with -plenty of berries, and birds, and flowers, and mosses, and clover-blossoms, and fruit, in the sweet, odorous summers; with plenty of romping 215

Page  216 216 EM1INENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. companions, not subjects for early tombstones and obituary notices, but with broad chests, sun-kissed faces, anld nimble limbs and tongues,- children who behaved naturally for their age; who twitched away books and balls from their owners, and pouted, and sometimes struck, and often got mad, and strutted when they wore fine clothes, and told lies, -" real whoppers,"- and took the bi,ggest half of the apple, and were generally a,ggravating, as exuberant, healthy childhood always is. Then little Mary had other companions less a,ggressive in the birds, the bees, and the grasshoppers. She went Maying, too, on May moriingis, as every true-)orn New England child should, as I myself have done, whether the sky were blue or black; whether she shivered or was warm in a white gown; whether the May-flowers were in blossom for Mllay-da,y wreaths, or the snow-flakes were coming down instead. She had chickens, too, and when they first came, she fbd them with soaked and sweetened cracker; later, she miadcle fricassees of them, and omelets of their e,ggs. She had three cats; one, named Molly after herself; anothler, a hideols, saffron-colored, forlorn, little wretlch, that was abandoned by an Irish famnily, and which she felicitously baptized Rory.O'More. This cat one day crept into the oven. Mlary, ignorant of the fact, shut the door, wishingi to retain the heat. Itearing a stifled "mew," she opened it, and out flew the cat and plunged throug,h the house outside into the nearest snow-bank, fiom whence she emerged, with true Irish elasticity, right-end up, and as good as new. The third cat little Mary housed was a perfect savage; her nmistress never being, able to catch sight of her save in her fierce and light ning-like transits through the house. These cats fotught each other, scratched, and made the fur fly, stole chliclkens, and gave that zest and excitement to her childish days which 'might well astonish our city-prisoned urchins, —shut up) with

Page  217 GAIL HAMILTON. a cross French nurse, to keep their silk dresses clean, in a nursery, firom whose windows the only view is a dead brick wall. Then she rode to mill ill an old wagon, with mammoth wheels, painted green outside and drab withill, with a miovable scat, on which was placed a buffalo-robe for a cushion. -After little MIary had taken her seat, the wagon was backed up to the gate, the "tailboard" let down, and huge bags of tow-cloth filled with shelled coTn were placed ill the cart to be ground, then transformed into Johnny-cakes, brown bread, and Indian puddingo. As they were put beside her, this imaginative little girl fancied that they might resemble those of Joseph's brethren, mentioned in the Bible, which were carried down into Egypt, with plenty of room in every sack's mouth for a silver cup and corn-money. When all these bags were safely deposited in the mill, and little MIary and the old horse started for home, who happier than she? The rough gates, which opened to let them through, seemed to turn on golden hiinges. Her quick eye noted the branches of feathery fern, the panilting cows, standing knee-deep in the cool water, and even the stagnant pool which she knew would by and by blossom forth with pure white lilies; while the yellow blossoms of the barberry hedge would ripen to crimson clusters in the crisp days of the coming autumn; this barberry bush, around which she joine d hands with her little romping companions, and sang: - As we go round the barberry bush, The barberry, barberry, barberry bush; As we go round the barberry bush, So early in the morning; This is the way we wash our clothes, We wash, we wash, we wash our clothes; This is the way we wash our clothes, So early in the morning. 217

Page  218 218 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Then Mary and her companions would imitate the washing of clothes and the ironing, and woe to her who should first lose breath in doilng'it. Then there were the lovely New England country Sundlays, heralded by the song of birds, and odor of blossoms, and creeping away of mist firom valley and mountain, as the warm sun gladdened every living, thing. Every New Englander klnows what that is without farther preface. Sundays to little Mary, under these conditions, were not prisons or chains. They were best clothes, with a pleasant, clovery smell in them when they were taken out of the drawer to be worn. Sunday was baked beans, and a big, red Bible with the tower of Babel in it full of little bells, and a lovely walk two miles through a lane full of sweetness and bird-singing; over the bars, through tell acres, over another pair of bars, through a meadow, over another pair of bars, by a hill, over a wall, through another meadow, through the woods, over the ridge, by Black Pond, over a fence, across a railroad, over another fence, through a pasture, through the long woods, through another gate, out upon the high road at last. Then, as our little girl was no diseased, embryo saint, during the long service, which she could not understand, she looked at the people and the fine bonnets around her, and never was she willing to stay at home, be the service ever so long. Then she went to Sunday school, where the children on coming out used to say, "I think your ribbon is prettier than mine." "Is your veil like Susy's?" Why don't you wear your blue dress to meeting?" "Do you know Joe got fourteen perch yesterday?" And she read the librarybooks and ate gingerbread ill the interim, and then came the afternoon service, and then the long,, pleasant ride home, and then the catechism in the evening, and the unfailing big red

Page  219 GAIL HAMILTON. Bible. And this is the brilliant tribute of her maturer years to the New England, much-reviled Sabbaths: " 0 Puritan Sabbaths! doubtless you were sometimes stormy without and stormy within; but, lookiing back iupon you from afar, I see no clouds, no snow, but perpetual sunshine and blue sky, and ever eager interest and delight; wild roses blooming under the old stone wall; wild bees humming among the blackberry bushes; tremulous, sweet columbines skirting the vocal wooclds; wild geraniums startliug their shadowy depths; and I hear now the rustle of dry leaves, bravely stirred by childish feet, just as they used to rustle in the October afternoons of long, ago. Sweet Puritan Sabbaths! breathe upon a restless world your calm, still breath, and keep us from the evil I" To-day, Gail Hamilton is not only independent in thought and expression, but I am happy to say, in pocket. She is also a living, breathing, brilliant refiltation of the absurd notionl that a woman with brains must necessarily be ignorant of, or disdain, the every-day domestic virtues. When she writes of house-keeping and kindred matters, she knows what slie is talking about. All the New England virtues of thrift, executiveness, thoroughness -in short, "faculty"- are exemplified in her daily practice. Well may there be sunshine inside her house; well may the flowers in her garden bloom, and the fruits ripen, skilfully tended by such fingers! One piece of advice before I close I will volunteer to the mnale sex who "desire to keep clear of a woman like that." Let them consider it a heaven-sent impulse; as several rash gentlemen, who, to my personal knowledge, disregarded it, have with base ingratitude towards the tame of her species, 219

Page  220 220 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. who fully endorsed their seraphic qualities, not only upon personal acquaintance with her, forgiven her for smiting them on one cheek, but voluntarily and lovingly have turned the other. Forewarned -forearmed!

Page  220A

Page  220B iiL ~ ~ ~~~ ~~i~ ~ ~~>~~~~~

Page  221 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. BY EDWARD Y. HIINCKS. 'ITERE has probably lived within the past century no woman whose genius, character, and position are more full of interest than Mrs. Browuing's. She was not only far above all the female poets of her age, but ranked with the first poets. She was not only a great poet, but a greater woman. She loved and honored art, but she loved and honored humanity more. Born and reared in England, her best affections were given to Italy, and her warmest friends and most enthusiastic admirers are found in America. And when to her rare personal endowments is added the fact that she was the wife of a still greater poet than herself, what is needed to make her the most remarkable woman of this, perhaps of any, age? And, as there is no woman in whose life and character we may naturally take a greater interest, so there is none whom we have better facilities of knowing. Of the ordinary materials out of which biographies are made, her life indeed furnishes few. Its external incidents were not many nor marked. The details of her family life have been very properly kept fromn the public. The publication of her letters has been deferred until after her husband's death. But what Mrs. Browning thought, felt, and was, is revealed with almost unexampled clearness in her writings. With all her genius she possessed in full measure the artlessness of her sex. Her 221

Page  222 222 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. theory of poetry, too, was that it was but the expression of the poet's inner nature. Hence, as might be expected, her poems are but transparent media for the revelation of herself. Her queenly soul shines through them as wine through a crystal vase.' Her friendships, her love, her grief, her patriotism, her philanthropy, her religion-all are in them simply and unaffectedly revealed to us. To obtain a correct conception of Mrs. Browning, therefore, we must study her character as revealed in her poems, aided, of course, by the light which our scanty knowledge of the events of her outward life will afford. As the result of our study we shall find that whatever fault we may be compelled to find with the artist, we cannot withhold our entire and hearty admiration for the character of the woman. We shall find that her genius, far from marring, exalted and ennobled her womanhood. We shall feel that the poet was greater than her poems. Elizabeth )Barrett Barrett was born in London, in 1809. Her father was a private gentleman in opulent circumstances. Hier early life was passed partly in London, partly in the county of Herefordshire, in sight of the Malvern Hills. One of her minor poems, " The Lost Bower," describes with her peculiar power of graphic picturing the scenery surroiunding her early home. " Green the land is where my daily Steps in jocund childhood played, Dimpled close with hill and valley, Dappled very close with shade; Summer snow of appleo'blossoms running up from glade to glade. "Far out, kindled by each other, Shining hills on hills arise, Close as brother leans to brother, When they press beneath the eyes or some father praying blessings From the gifts of Paradise."

Page  223 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNJNG. 223 The whole poem, which is one of its author's simplest and sweetest, is well worthy of study for its autobiographical interest. It gives us the picture of a dreamy and thoughtful, but not morbid child, lovingo to ramble in the wild wvood's, which her fancy peopled with the heroes and heroines of old. MIrs. Browning was a child of remarkable precocity. She wvrote verses at ten, mid appeared in print at the age of fifteen. In the dedication to her father of the edition of her poems which appeared in 1844, she pleasantly speaks "of the time far off when I was a child and wrote verses, and when I dedicated them to you who were my public andcl my critic." This childish precocity was not an indication of early ripening genius. Her powers matured slowly. She wrote very crudely when past thirty. She never attained her full maturity. MIiss Barrett's education was such as a woman rarely receives. She was tatught in classics, philosophy, and science. Her acquaintance with Greek literature was very extensive. It embracedl, not only the great classic authors, but also many of the fathers, and the Greek Christian poets. She studied Greek under the instruction of her bl;nd friend, the Rev. Hugth Stuart Boyd, to whom she afterward dedicated the poem entitled "The Wine of Cyprus," in which she thus pleasantly alludes to the hours they had spent together: - " And I think of those long morninlgs Which my thought goes far to seek, When, betwixt the folio's turnings, Solemn flowed the rhythmic Greek. Past the pane the mountain spreading Swept the sheep-bell's tinkling noise, While a girlish voice was reading, Somewhat low for at s and 0o s." And then she goes on to give in a word or two, with that happy facility in hitting off the leading features of a great genius in a single phrase, which is one of her most no

Page  224 224 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ticeable characteristics, the impression made upon teacher and pupil by each author as they read. But she was not merely a passive recipient of knowledge; "For we sometimes gently wrangled, Very gently, be it said, Since our thoughts were disentangled By no breaking of the thread! I And I charged you with extortions On the nobler fames of old; Ay, and sometimes thought your Porsons Stained the purple they would fold." But it may be doubted whether Mrs. Browning was a thorough and scientific student of the Greek langtuage. If she had been so, the effect of such study would have been to correct her taste, and render much of her language less obscure. Indeed, in spite of her wide reading, one can but form the impression firom perusing her writings that she did not receive a thorough and systematic mental training. Had she been able to receive the drill of the grammar school and university she might have used her extraordinary natural gifts to far greater advantagre. Miss Barrett's first published volume was a small book entitled "An Essay upon Mind and other Poems," published in 1826. The "Essay on Mind" was an ambitious and immature production, in heroic verse, which the author omitted from the collection of her poems which she afterward made, and which is in consequence rarely to be found. A critic ill the Edinburgh Review" speaks of it as neither possessing much intrinsic merit nor givinl great promise of originality, but as "remarkable for the precocious audacity with which it deals with the greatest names in literature and science." In 1833 she pul-)ished a translation of the Prometheus Bound" of Eschylus. This translation was severely criticised at the time of its publication, and Miss Barrett herself

Page  225 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 225 was so dissatisfied with it that she executed an entirely new version, which was included in a subsequent collection of her poems. In 1835 she formed an acquaintance with Mary Russell Mitford, which soon ripened into intimacy. To this intimacy the public are indebted for Mrs. Browning's charming little poem, addressed "To Flush, my Dog" (Flush was a gift from Miss Mitford), and for the oft-quoted description of M,iss Barrett as a young lady in ]er friend's "Recollections of a Literary Life." This sketch is so graphic, and gives so much information not elsew,here to be found, that we must quote from it a few extracts. Miss Mitford thus describes her friend as she appeared at the age of twenty-six: — "Of a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark curls falling on either side of a most expressive face, larg,e, tender eyes, richly fritged by darkl eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam, and such a look of youthfuilness that I had some difficulty ill persuad(ling a friend that the translatress of the'Promletheus' of A schylus, the authoress of the'Essay on Mind,' was old enough to be introduced into company." The next year Mrs. Browning met with that unfortunate accident which, with the yet sadder casualty of which it was the indistinct occasion, cast a dark shadow over her life. A blood-vessel was ruptured in one of her lung,s. A milder climate beilg dleemed necessary for her recovery, she went,' in company with her eldest and favorite brother, to Torquay. There she remained nearly a year, and was rapidly gaining in vigor, when that sad event occurred which nearly killed her by its shock, and saddened much of her future life. Her brother was drowned while on a sailing excursion, within 15.. * * *.::

Page  226 226 EMINENT WOOEN OF THE AGE. sight of the windows of the house in which she lived. Even his body was never found. This tragedy," writes her friend, " nearly killed Elizabeth Barrett. She was utterly prostrated by the horror and the grief, and by a natural but most unjust feeling that she had been in some sort the cause of this great misery.... She told me herself that, during the whole winter, the sounds of the waves rang in her ears like the moans of one dying." The depth of her anguish nugy be imagined fiom the fact that, as another friend tells us, when about to be married ten years after, she exacted from her husband a promise never to refer to her brother's death. So prostrated in body was she by this calamity that a year elapsed before she could be removed by slow stages to her ftLther's house in London. There she lived for seven years, colnfined to a darkened room, at times so feeble that life seemed almnost extinct, but struggling against debilityand suffering with almost unexampled heroism. There she continued her studies, having a Plato bound like a novel to deceive her physician, who feared that mental application would react injuriously upon her enfeebled frame. There she wrote, while lying on a couch, unable to sit erect, the poem of "Lady Geraldine's Courtship" in twelve hours, in order that the volume of her poems to be published in this country mi,ght be completed in season to catch the steamer. From that sick chamber went forth poems sufficient in quantity to be the result of industrious application on the part of one in good health. And though these poemns bear marks of the peculiar circumstances in which they were written, in a somewhat morbid tone, they show no trace of debility in thought or imagination. Mrs. Browning has written no "In Memoriam" to tell in melodious notes the story of her grief. No direct allusion to it is made, if we mistake not, in her poems. She does not, like most of the poets of her sex, brood plaintively over her woes, and sing, over and over again, in slightly

Page  227 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. altered form, the melancholy strain, "I am bereft, and life is dark." Her nature was too strong thus to allow grief to take possession of it. Sorrow deepened and elevated her nature, instead of mastering it. There was in her none of the egotism of grief. She threw her whole soul with redoubled ardor into her high vocation, finding consolation where great souls have always found it- in noble work. And yet, though there is not the least trace in her writings of an egotistical brooding over grief, there is abundant evidence in them of the deep suffering through which she passed. It would be diffi cult to find a nobler expression of great sorrow, bravely en dured, than is afforded by her sonnets on " Comfort," "Sub stitution," "Bereavemelt," and "Consolation." These simple but majestic records of her grief are far more affecting, be cause they are far less labored and artistic, and seem to como more directly from the heart, than the mournful beauty of tho " In Memoriam." In 1838 Mrs. Browning published "The Seraphim and other Poems," and in 1844 a collection of her Poems in two volumes, includcling the "Drama of Exile." The reception with which these poems met in England was, though not hiTghly flattering, certainly very far from discouraging. Their faults were severely but not unjustly criticised, and full recognition was given to their merits. The " Quarterly Review" for 1840 concludes an article in which are criticised tile works of nine female poets, who are now nearly or quite all forg,otten, except Mrs. Browning,, in these words: "In a word, we consiler Miss Barrett to be a woman of undoubted genius and most unusual learning, but that she has indulged her inclination for themes of sublime mystery, not certainly without great power, yet at the expense of that clearness, truth, and proportion which are essential to beauty. At about this titme Leigh Hunt speaks of her in the following lalngduage ::.1.::.: *: ~ ~ e~ 227 0

Page  228 228 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "Miss Barrett, whom we take to be the most imaginative ~~~~~~~ poetess that has appeared ill Englalnd, perhaps in Europe, and who will grow to great eminence if the fineness of her vein can but outgrow a certain morbidity." In our own country Mr. E. P. Whipple wrote, that, Probably the greatest female poet that Englandcl has ever produced, and one of the most unreadable, is Elizabeth B. Barrett. In the workis of no woman have we ever observed so much grandeur of imagination. disguised as it is ill an elaborately infelicitous style. She has a large heart and a large brain, but many of her thoughts are hooded eagles." It seems to us that these critics dealt very justly with Mrs. Browning. The faults of the two largest poemns which she had published were glaring and extremely offensive to a correct taste. " The Seraphim " is a dialogue between two angels who are witnessingl the crucifixion, and giving utterance to their emotion as they gaze upon the awful spectacle. The very theme of the poem is enough to show that it must be a failure. The task of depicting the feelings iwhich that stupendous sacrifice awakened in seraphic souls, is one vlwhich no one of our race should attempt. AVhat do we know of the workings of angelic natures? If, as Mrs. Bro.wning so often tells us, truth is an essential quality of poetry, how can we look for poetry where there is no basis on which truth can rest? A poet of imperial imagination, like Mlilton or Danite, may successfully introduce angels as actors in an epic poem, where the interest cenlitres in what is done, and in which there is a groundwork of human action, and the most prominent actors are men; but is not this far different fiom attenmpltiing to depict draamatically the working of ang,elic natlires? As might naturally be expected, therefore, the "Seraphim" is a failure. It is extravagant, mystical, and, in some places, 0

Page  229 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. very unpleasant, by reason of its efforts to depict what should be forever left unattempted by human pencil. To speak plainly, the freedom with which Mrs. Browning in these earlier poems attempts to describe the Deity is exceedingly shocking to a reverent soul. Of course this freedom is merely an error of taste, and is rather the attempt of a vivid faith and ardent love to realize their object, than of a self-confident spirit to win praises for itself by vividly setting forth the glories of its Maker; but good taste and a true reverence alike protest against it. The "Drama of Exile" shows greater imaginative power and deals with a more approachable subject than tlhe "Seraphim," but is hardly less open to criticism. It is based upon the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the garden of Eden. The following is an outline of its plot: The poem opens with an exulting soliloquy by Lucifer, which is interrupted by the entrance of Gabriel. In the colloquy which ensues between them the fallen angel exults over his success, and Gabriel meets his taunts with pitying, scorn, and bids him depart and "leave earth to God." The scene then changes. Adam and Eve appear in the distance, flying across the glare made by the flaming sword, and are followed in their flight by a lamentation and farewell, chanted by a chorus of Eden spirits; the spirits of the trees, the rivers, the birds and the flowers each in turn taking up the song. The scene now chauiges to the outer extremity of the light cast by the flaming sword. There Adam and Eve stand and look forward into the gloom. Eve, in an agony of remorse, throws herself Ulpol the ground, and begs her husband to spurn her, his seducer, from him forever. Adam raises and comforts her, and assures her of his forgiveness and continued love. A chorus of invisible angels, who had mlinistered to their pleasure in EdenI, then chant the exiles a "faint and tender" farewell. Lucifer nowv appears upon the scene, and taunts his victims 229

Page  230 2,30 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. upon their ruin, until he is interrupted and driven away by a lament coming from his lost love, the morning star. In the next scene Adam and Eve have advanced falrther into a wild, open country. As they stand lamenting their fate, they are confronted by twelve shadowy creatures, which are the projections of the signs of the Zodiac, -the ranm, the bull, the crab, the scorpion, etc. To let the poet state her own obscure conception: "Not a star pricketh the flat gloom of heaven; But girdling close our nether wilderness, The zodiac fig,ures of the earth loom slow, Drawn out as suitethli with the place and time In twelve colossal shapes instead of stars." Their attention is drawn from these by two spirits, of whom one calls itself "the spirit of the harmless earth," and the other "the spirit of the harmless beasts," who mourn the ruin that man has broulght upon them, and, joined and assisted by Lucifer, revile the vwretchled pair for the curse they bave brought uponi God's fair creation. llhen they hl.ve driven Adam and Eve to a frenzy of agony, Christ appears, rebukes the earth-spirits and commands them to become mani's comforters and ministers, foretells the redemption which He will accomplish for the race, and bids our first parents, " In which hope move on, First sinners and first mourners; love and live, Doing both nobly because lowlily." The earthl-spirits promise obedience and disappear. A chorus of angels then chants the promise of immortal life to mortals, and thus the drama ends. WVe have given the plot of the " Drama of Exile" at some length, that the reader may judge for himself of the justice

Page  231 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. of our criticism when we say that, as a whole, the poem is strained, extravagant, and unequal to its theme. There are some subjects which are set apart for the great creative intellects of the race, and with which it is useless for any others of lesser grasp, however brilliant their powers may be within their own range, to attempt to igrapple. Anything short of complete success in their treatment is failure. Their successful handling requires a sustained and steady elevation of imagination, as well as an occasional lofty flight; it requires also the power of construction and arr.angemenlt, as well as of orig,inating single great conceptions. Neither of these was given to Mrs. Browning. IIecr imag,ination could soar very high, but it could not, like Mlilton's, float tranquilly, supported by its strong pinion, in the clear upper air. Icr. genius seemed rather to emit brilliant flashes than to shed a steady radiance. The "Drama of Exile" contains many noble passages. Some of its conceptions give evidence of great originality and power. But passages in a poem written upon such a subject, which excite a reader's laugh,ter by their extravagance, are fatal to its claims to be considered a great work of the imagination. IHomer sometimes nods, but he never rants. It has been the unanimous voice of criticism, and cannot fail to be the opinion of every candid and intelligent reader, that in the "Drama of Exile" Mrs. Browning very often and very laufghably rants. 3But those seven years of solitude and illness bore other and better fruit than the "Drama of Exile." Many of those beautiful short poems, on which Mrs. Browning's claims to our gratitude chiefly rest, are the fruit of that stern and protract ed contest with extreme physical weakness and mental suffer ing. Thlen was written Lady Isobel's Child; "a poenm which combines more of Mrs. IBrowning's peculiar powers, — her tenderness, her clear vision into the spiritual world, her abil ity to describe with wonderful vividness the appearances of 231

Page  232 2 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. nature, and her skill in using the pictures which she paints to hei,hten emotional effect, - with fewer faults than almost any of her other poems. Then, also, was written "Bertha in the Lane,"- the simplest and sweetest of her poelms; and the "Rime of the Duchess Ma\y," - a poem whose vigor of movement and graphic picturing no woman has equalled and few men have surpassed. Then was written the "Cry of the Children," which will rank with those few noble poems, in which genius utters, in its own thrilling tones, the cry of a humble and neglected class for relief, Then was written "The Dead Pan," - a poem full of noble truth as well as beauty; a poem which gladly bids farewell to the old classic fil)les in which beauty was once enshrined, because a higher beauty is found in the truth and spiritual illumination of to-day. What nobler creed for a poet than this: "What is true and just and honest, What is lovely, what is pure, - All of praise that hlath admonished All of virtue, sliall endure; These are themes for poets' uses, f~tirrinng noller than the muses, Ere Pan was dead." We cannot find a more suitable place than this in which to speak of a prose work of iMrs. Browning's, pub)lisled after her death, but originally printed in the "London Atlienmeum" in 1842, entitled "Essays on the Greek Christiian Poets and the English Poets." It is written in a terse and vigorous style, disfigured here and there by a harsh or unpleasant fig,ure or strained metaphor, but possessing sufficient merit to show that their author might have attained a higll rark as a prose writer. Their most noticeable mnerit is a certain felicity in putting subtle spiritual thou,ght into langluage. They 232

Page  233 EfLIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. are of especial interest to the student of MIrs. Browning,'s poetry, as giving, in connection with her judgmenct upon mnost En,glish poets, her theory of the true nature of the poetic art. This theory, which is closely allied to the theory of the realists in painting, may be stated as follows: There is poetry wherever God is and the works of God are. Thlere is as true poetry in man and whatever pertains to man, of whatsoever grade of society or degree of cultivation, as in the grandest objects of nature. The poet must delineate what he sees and express what he feels. As MIrs. Browning herself afterward finely says in "Aurora Lei gh": " Never flilch, But still, unscrupulously epic, catch Upon the burning lava of a song, The full-veined, heaving, double-breasted a,,e, That when the next shall come the men of that May touch the impress with reverent hand and say, Behold,- behold the paps we all have sucked. This is living art, Which thus presents and thus records true life." And again, with reference to that part of the poet's office which has to do with the expression of his inner nature, she says: "The artist's part is both to be and do, Transfixing with a special, central power The flat experience of the common man, And turning outward with a sudden wrench, Half agony, half ecstasy, the thing lie feels the inmost." Describe what you see and tell what you feel, is, then, the sum of Mrs. Browning's poetic creed. We can but think that this theory of the poetic art leaves out of view one of its 233

Page  234 23, EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. most important features, which is the elaborating thoughts and conceptions into symmetrical form; using them as the plastic material out of which to construct a polished, perfect work of art. The old Greek conception is right: the poet is the maker, not the reflector. We have a right to demand more of the poet than a fiaithful record of the impressions made upon any or all of his sensibilities. We have a right to demand melody, clearness, symmetry of design, proper joining of parts,- all the results of the severest taste guided by unremitting diligence. A poem should not be an incoherent and rugged rhapsody; it should join to all the freshness of nature the smoothness of the highest art. In 1846 Ailrs. Browning left her sick-room (she was literally assisted firom her couch) to become the wife of Robert Browning. WAVe have not the space to enter into any discussion of Mr. Browning,'s rank as a poet. It is sufficient for our purpose to say that, thougth his poems find a munch narrower circle of readers than those of his wife, the most cultivated and appreciative critics pronounce them to be of a higher order of merit than hers, and in many of the rarer and finer qualities of poetry superior to the works of any living poet. It is enough for those who have learned to love Mrs. Browning through her writings to know that those who have known and loved both husband and wife pronounce the hus. band not unworthy in nobility of soul as well as in depth of intellect of such a wife. And not to be unworthy of such a woman's love is indeed to be great I In a series of sonnets, slightly disguised by their title, Sonnets from the Portuguese," written to her husbamid before their marriage, she has poured out the wealth of her love, and at the same time displayed the loftiness and delicacy of her nature. Whoever wishes to know Mrs. Browning should study carefully these beautiful and artless poems, which tell the most sacred feelings of a woman's heart with such sim

Page  235 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. plicity and truthfulness and freedom from false shame that the most fastidious taste cannot be offended by their recital. Nor are they interesting alone from the insight which they give us into the heart of their author. They are of unique interest, because they give us the revelation of a great woman's love. They set before us an affection which combines, with the passionate fervor of man's devotion, a clinging, self-renoutncing tenderness which is peculiar to woman. They reveal to us a love unselfish in its essence, distrusting only its own worthiness and sufficiency to satisfy its object, and longitng to be swallowed up in his larger nature. How false in the presence of such desire for self-renunciation on the part of so highly-gifted a nature appears the common cant that culture and genius and strong thought injure the finer qualities of a woman's soul! What better refutation to this theory than such lines as these: "A heavy heart, beloved, have I worn, From year to year, until I saw thy face, And sorrow after sorrow took the place Of all those natural joys as lightly worn As the stringed pearls,- each lifted in its turn By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace Were changed to long despairs, till God's own gram Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring And let it drop adown thy calmly great Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing Which its own nature doth precipitate, While thine doth close above it, mediating Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate." " From their wedding day," writes a friend, " Mrs. Browniig seemed to be endowed with new life. HIer health visibly improved, and she was enabled to make excursions in England prior to her departure for the land of her adoption,Italy,- where she found a second and a dearer home." 235

Page  236 236 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. She lived some time at Pisa, and thence removed to Florence, where the remainder of her life was passed. "For nearly fifteen years," says the writer from whom we have quoted above, "Florence and the Brownings were one in the thotughts of many EInglish and AIlericans." AMrs. Browning,'s poems, for many years before her death, were more widely and heartily admired by American than by Einglish readers. Her love of liberty and generous sympathy with all efforts to elevate the race made America dear and Americans welcome to her. Her conversational powers were of the highest order. It was but natural, therefore, that her house should attract many American travellers to discuss with this little broad-browed woman those "great questions of the day," which we are told "were foremost in her thoughts and, therefore, oftenest on her lips." M1rs. Browning's affections soon took root in Italy. The depth and fervor of the love which she bore her adopted country was such as man or woman have rarely borne for native land. It had the intensity of a personal attachment with a moral elevation such as love for a single person never has. It glows like fire through all her later poems. Would that we had had a poet who had sung the heroism and suffering of the late war in strains of such power and pathos as those in which "she sang the song of Italy." Her love for her adopted country was not a mere romantic attachment to its beauty and treasures of art and historic associations. It was a practical love for its men and women.She longed to see them elevated, and therefore she longed to see them free. Her affection for Italy found its first expression in "Casa Guidi Windows," which was published in 1851. "This poem," says the preface, "contains the impressions of the writer upon events in Tuscany of which she was a witness. .. ~... It is a simple story of personal impressions -t . 0

Page  237 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 237 whose only value is in the intensity with whichl they were re. ceived, as proving her warm affection for a bceautifil and Unfortunate country, and the sincerity with which they were related, as indicating her own good faith and freedom firom partisanship." The poem consists of two parts, the former of which ( w r i t t e n in 1848) describes the popular demonstrati ons in Florence occasioned by the promise of Duke Leopold( II. to grant a constitution to Padua. It goes on f rom th is to c a l l upon Italy to free her conscience from priestl y dominiation, and her person from Austrian rule. It calls for a deliverer to break the fetters of priestcra,ft and tyr anny. It a s k s the sympathy of. all European nations, each of whic h is so deeply indebted to Italy for literature and art: 9 "To this great cause of southern men, who strive In God's name for man's rights, and shall not fail." The second part of the poem, written three years afterward, when Leopold had proved false, and the constitutional party had been crushed, describes the return of the DuLke to Florence under the protection of Austrian )a)yonets, and gives utterance to the execrations of the cldespaiiing patriots of Italy a gainst "false Leopold," a treacherous pope, and a ly ing priesthood. The poet then goes on in a nmagnificent strain to accuse the nations who were then flo king to the Worl d's F air" in London of gross materialism and insensibility t o the sufferings of their own oppressed and miserable, a nd the wr ongs of outraged Italy. She concludes thus: " Let us go. We will trust God. The blank interstices Men take for ruins he will build into 0

Page  238 238 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. With pillared marble rare, or knit across With generous arches, till the fane's complete." In 1848 Mrs. Browning's son and only child was born. As before, she had thrown the sorrow of her early life, and the love which had followed and superseded it into her poetry, so this new and crownling affection found its fit and fuill expression ill her verse. Before, it was the wife who wrote; now, it is the wife and mother. Her love for her child deepened and intensified her love for humanity. It streingthened her faith ill God. It made her love him with that love which only mothers know. And as her poetry was the expression of what was noblest and deepest in her nature, it could hut follow that it should be full of the evidences of this its best affection. Ill the "Casa Guidi Windows," speaking of perjured Duke Leopold, she says: "I saw the man among his little sons; Hils lips were warm with kisses while he swore; And I, because I am a woman, I, Who felt my own child's conliug life before The prescience of my soul, and held faith high, - I could not bear to think, whoever bore, That lips, so warmed, could shape so cold a lie." The world has seen many greater poets, but it has never seen one who thus clothed noble womanhood in noble verse. And in the same strain is the apostrophe to her little son in the last part of the poem, of which we would gladly quote the whole, but are obliged to content ourselves with these few lines: "Stand out my blue-eyed prophet, thou, to whom The earliest world-daylight that ever flowed Through Casa Guidi windows chanced to come I And be God's witness that the elemental ~

Page  239 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. New springs of life are gushing everywhere, To cleanse the water-courses and prevent all Concrete obstructions which infest the air!" Had Mrs. Browning died childless, she never could have written that noble poem entitled "Mother and Poet," in which she has expressed so powerfully the anguish of that Italian poetess, whose two solns fell fighting, for Italian liberty. Nor could she have written "Only a Curl," that touching, exquisite poemn written to console two bereaved friends in America. Those who are fond of making comparisons will find a good opportunity for the exercise of their ingenuity iii comparing this little poem with that of Tennyson entitled "To J. S.," likewise written to comfort all afflicted firiend. That of the laureate is a far more beautiful work of art; after reading its melodious lines Mrs. Browning's verses sound ru gged and harsh. Its writer's sympathy and love are expressed with exquisite delicacy and pathos. Its metaphors are full of beauty. Under ordinary circumstances one would read it with far more pleasure than "Only a Curl." But the latter poem, if it gratifies less the sense of beauty, is more richly fraught with consolation to a sorrowing, soutl. Its sympathy seems the more heartfelt for being less graceful. It does more than express sympathy. It carries the bereaved to the source of all comfort. It inspires him with the writer's lofty faith. It lets a ray of heavenly light into his soul. T he contrast between the two poehns can be best exhibited bv quotin g a verse of each. One of the concluding verses of Tennlyson's poem is'this " Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace, Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul; While the stars burn the winds increase, And the great ages onward roll." That of Mrs. Browning: 239

Page  240 210 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "So look up, friends! you who indeed Have possessed in your house a sweet piece Of the Heaven which men strive for, must need Be more earnest than others are, speed Where they loiter, persist where they cease." It is easy to decide which of the two stanzas is more beautiful; and it is not difficult to determine which is in its essential contents the -nobler. In 1856 "Aurora Leigh" was published. This poem, which Mrs. B'owning calls "the most mature of my works, and that into which my highest convictions upon life and art have entered," wvas finished in England, under the roof of the writer's cousin and friend, John Kenyon,- to whom it is dedicated. Mr. Kenyon was a genial and cultivated gentleman, the author of several graceftil poemns. He died in 1858, leaving his cousin a considerable addition to her fortune. Aurora Leigh" is a social epic,- a sort of novel in blank verse. The following is a brief outline of its plot: Aurora Leigh, the heroine, who is represented as telling the story of her life, is a lady of Italian birth, the daughter of an En,lish gentleman, who, while making a brief visit to Florence, fell in love with and married a beautiful Italian woman. Aurora lived in Italy until thirteen years old, when, her parents having both died, she was taken to England, to live with her fathler's sister. This aunt, a prim, rigid, and stony person, endeavors, by subjecting Aurora to rigid discipline and the orthodox young lady's education, to eradicate the Italian nature which she had inherited from her mother, and mnould her into a correct, accomplished, and commonplace Englishwoman. Aurora, though outwardly submissive, is secretly rebellious, and determines that her aunt shall neither crush out her life, nor make of her the flat, tame woman she designs her niece to become.

Page  241 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. I-Having found in a garret a box of her father's bookls, she studies them secretly with greaf zeal. Fired by reading the poets, she determines to become one of their number. Lead ing thus a double life, outwardly sublmissive and demure, but secretly enjoying intellectual and spiritual freedom, she reaches the age of twenty. Then her cousin, RPomney Leigh, a young man of talent and worth, whose soul is bent upon schemes for imnproving the physical condition of the poor, asks her to become his wife. Suspecting that a desire for an assistant in his Iphilan thropic labors, rather than love, has caused him to make this offer, she declines his hand. At this point, her aunt, who is determined that she shall marry Romney, suddenly dies. iomuney renews the offer of his hand, and, this being refused, generously andl delicately offers a large part of his fortune to his cousin, whom her father's foreign marriage has prevented from inheriting his estates. She refuses this also, and goes to London to write poems and live by their sale. In course of time she obtains celebrity. She has no direct communication with Romney, but learns, by occasional infornmationl derived from their common firiends, that he is devoting himself with great zeal to lessening the sum of human misery. At length she is told that her cousin is about to marry a young girl of the lowest origin, whom he has met with while carrying on his philanthropic labors. She visits this young, lady, and finds her to be, in spite of her low origin, winning, and refined. At her rooms she meets with Romney. ITec explains to her his design in marrying this Marian Erle, which is to protest against the insuperable barrier which custom has raised between the different classes of society. To increase the effect of this strange union, Ptomney gives public notice that the marriag,e will tktle place in a London church. At the appointed hour the clhutrch is crowded with a mixed assemblage, composed of curious people 16 241

Page  242 242 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. of fashion, and a larg,e and foul delegation from the class to which the bride belongs. Tie hour arrives, but no bridal party appears. After some delay, Romney enters alone, and announces that his illtended bride has fled. The mob swear that she has been abducted by Romney's fiiends, to prevent the marriage, and a riot ensues, which is quelled by the police. Some time after MIarianl's flight, a report is circulated and generally believed by his friends that Romney has formed an engagement of marriage with Lady Waldemar, - a lady of wealth, rank, and beauty, but whose character is utterly devoid of moral principle. In the full belief of this report, Aurora Leigh, having published a poem which contains the full expression of her genius, starts for Italy. Stopping at Paris on the way, she meets npoi the street Marian Erie. Accompanying her home she hears her story. Lady Waldemar (who had long, cherished a secret love for Romney Leigh) had persuaded MIarian that her affianced husband entertained no real affection for her, but was, in tarrying her, sacrificing his own happiness on the altar of his social theories; and that it was her duty to prevent him from performing this rash act by flight. Accordingly she fled the country, under the care of a servant of Lady Waldemar, who conveyed her to a vile den in some French seaport, where she was dru,gged and outraged. Escaping them, she made her way to Paris, where a child is born to her. Aurora, after writing this story in a letter to a common friend of Romney and herself in England, taking Marian and her child with her, continues her journey to Italy. The party make their home in Florence. After some months had passed, Romney -unexpectedly appears at their house. lie tells Aurora what had happened in her absence. He had turned his country-seat into a phalanstery. It had been set on fire and burned to the ground. In rescuing one of his patients,

Page  243 ELIZABETl BARRETT BROWNING. he had been stricken down by a falling beam. The injury had made him hopelessly blind. 01n hearing the stoi'y of ilarian's innocence and betrayal, he has hastened to Italy, come to fulfil his former contract of mnarriage with Marian. But Mlarian's love has been killed by the sorrow and shabme through which she has passed, and she refuses to marry him. And so, as Romney has loved Aurora with unabated affection since his former offer of marriage, and as Aurora discovers that she has all the time unconsciously loved her cousin, they are married. Of course a very imperfect conception of the poem can be obtained from this meagre outline of the plot. This is the mere skeleton, which is to be covered with flesh and blood, and into which the breath of life is to be breathed. But a symmetrical body cannot be built upon a deformed skeleton. A great poem cannot be constructed upon an absurd and improbable plot. Its characters must act as human beilgs in the same circumstances might naturally be expected to do. They must talk like men and women, making allowance for the limitations under which the artist works. They must not be used as puppets, to express the thoughts of the writer, but whatever they say must be the natural expression of their own personality. And especially should this be the case when the scene of the poem is laid, not in the mythlica'l past, but in the broad, clear light of to-day. An epic of the social life of our own time shotild faithfully reflect that life, by imakicng probable characters talk and act in a natural minller. Almost its first requisite is that the story should be naturally put together, and pleasingly told; that the characters should produce an impression of rcality; that the interest and power of the narrative should increase as the poern atldvances; and that the whole story should tend toward one coiisummation, and leave upon the mind, wheni its perusal has l)een finished, the effect of a connected and symmetrical whole. 243

Page  244 244 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Judged by this standard, Aurora Leigh cannot be pro. nounceed a great poem. The plot is awkward and improbable. T he author trifles with her readers by making Aurora declare i n the early part of the poem: "I attest The conscious skies and all their daily suns, I think I loved him not; nor then; nor since; Nor ever." And at the close of the poem: "Now I know I loved you always, Romney." The events of the story are improbable and clumsily connected. They do not seem to flow out of each other, as do the occurrences of real life. They have not the semblance of probability. The adventures of'Marian Erle, after her flight from England, are as absurd as they are dlisgusting. Romney Leigh, with his sublime disregard of self, his willing,ness to contract engagements of marriage to further his noble schemes, his ugly Juggernaut of philanthropy, under which he would crush the nobler affections of his own and other people's lives, -is a very absurd character, if he can be called a character and not a walkiing abstraction. It is not too much to say that the story and characters of Aurora Leigh seem like a very clumsy and ill-contrived piece of mechanism intended to serve as a vehicle to convey the writer's impressions of the social life of to-day. But the poem only fails of the accomplishment of what is or should be its main design, -it is full of sins against taste. Disagreeable conceits abound in it. Much of it is but distorted and quaintly expressed prose. It tells of disgusting crimes with offensive frankness. There is a class of crime upon which even philanthropy can

Page  245 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. not gaze too closely. WVe have certainly a right to ask that crime of this sort, if introduced into a work of the iIt'aginatioii, shall be so veiled as neither to shock our taste nor wouniid our sensibilities. But, notwithstanding all the faults which disfigure "Aurora Lei,gh," it is full of genius and power. It is not a great poem, but many of its passages are great. It containls much vigorous thlou,ght; many profound spiritual truths delicately and forcibly expressed; much noble description of natural scenery. It is a book to be read by detached passages rather than as a single work of art; alld to one reading, it thuls it is full of interest and profit. Though not worthy of being the great work of MIrs. Browning's life, it must hold a high rank amongo the poems which the present century has produced. Iu 1859 Mrs. Browning, published a little book entitled "Poems before Colngress." These poems, which contained eulog,ies upon Louis Napoleon for the assistance which he had rendered to Italy inll her struggl,e for independence, and blamed England for lukewarmness toward the new nation strugglilng into freedom, were severely criticised by the English press. She was called disloyal to her native land, and was said to have prostituted her genius to eulogizing a tyrant and usurper. How far her opinlions as to Na,poleoii's character and motives in assisting Italy to freedom were correct is a question into which we will not enter here. IIad she been living in the fall of 1867, she would probably have found occasion to modify her opinion. But of the nobility of the motives which actuated her to write as she did, the following extract from a letter which she wrote to a fricnd affords ample evidence: "\y book," she wrote, " has had a very angry reception in my native country, as you prol)'Lbaly observe; but I shall be 245

Page  246 246 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. forg,iven one day; and meanwhile, forgiven or unforg,iven, it is satisfactory to one's own soul to have spokenl the truth as one apprehends the truth." It may readily be supposed that ]Irs. Browniing's deep love of liberty would have led her to take a deep ilnterest in America. That this was illdeed the case, her own writilgsand the testimony of her friends give us labundant evidence. "Her interest in the American anti-slavery struggl e," says Mr. Tilton,, " was deep and earnest. She was a watcher of its progress, and afar off mingled her soul with its strugglles. She corresponded w-ith its leaders, and entered into the fellowvship of their thoulghts." She wrote for a little book, which the Abolitionists published in 1848, called the " Liberty Bell," a poem entitled " A Curse for a Nationl." Of this we will quote a single verse as a specimen: "Because yourselves are standing straight In the state Of Freedom's goremost acolyte, Yet keep calm footing all the time On writhing bond-slaves -for thllis crime This is the curse- write." Mlany years after she wrote to an American friend concerningi this poem: — "Never say that I have cursed your country. I only declared the consequences of the evil in her, and whichl has since developed itself in thunder and flame. I feel with more pain than many Americans do the sorrow of this transition time; but I do know that it is transition; that it is crisis, and that you will come out of the fire purified, stainless, havilng had the angel of a great cause walking with you in the furnace." But she did not live to see her prophecy verified. The disease against which she had so lolng stru,ggled, broke out I

Page  247 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. with newv violence in the spriing of 1861. So rapid was its progress that her friends did not realize her danger until death was near. She wasted away in rapid consumption, and died on the morning of the 29th of June. Her last words, or rather her first wNords when the heavenly glory burst upon her vision, were, "It is beautiful." Twenty-three days after Cavour's death pluInged Italy in mourning, and saddened the friends of liberty throu,lgh the world. The impassioned poet and the heroic statesman of the new nation were both taken from it while it was on the very threshold of its life. Had they both lived, the one would, by his resistless energy and far-sighted wisdom, have givenl the land so dearly loved by both a far nobler history for the other to sing. The death of both was hastened, their friends tell us, by their grief at the peace of Villafranca. Such a poet and such a statesman were worthy of a 1nobler people. Mrs. Browning was buried in the Einglish burying-ground at Florence. The municipio have placed over the doorway of Casa Guidi a white marble tablet, on which is inscribed the following beautiful tribute to her memory: Here wrote and died E. B. Browning, who in the heart of a womnan iunited the science of a sage and the spirit of a poet, and made with her verse a golden ring binding Italy and England. "Grateful Florence placed this memorial, 1861." "To those who loved Mrs. Browning," says a friend in a letter published in the" Atlantic Monithly "for Septeml)er, 1861, (and to know her was to love her), she was singularly attractive. Hers was not the beauty of feature; it was the loftier beauty of expression. - Her slight figure seemed hardly to contain the great heart that beat so powerfully within, and the soul that expanded more and more as one year gave place 247

Page  248 E8EMINENT WOMEN OF TIE AGE. to another. It was difficult to believe that suck a fairy hl.tln could pen thoughts of such a ponderous wveighlt, or tlltt steh a'still, small voice' could utter them withl equal force. But it was Mrs. Brownling's face upon which one loved to gaze,that f.ice and head which almost lost thc'mselves in the thick curls of her dark-brown hair. That jealous hair could lnob hide the l)road, fair forehead,' royal with the truth,' as smooth as any girl's, and "' Too large for wreath of modern wont.' "Her large brown eyes were beautiful, and were, in truth, the windows of her soul. They combined the confliliglness of a child with the poet-passion of heart and of intellect, and in gazing into them it was easy to see wvhy Mrs. Browning wrote. God's inspiration was her motive-power, and in her eyes was the reflection of this higher light." The same friend continues: - Ai1rs. Browning's conversation was most interesting... All that she said was alwtays worth hearing; a greater complliment could not be paid her. She was a most conscientious listener, giving you her mind and heart, as well as her magnetic eyes. Though the latter spoke an eager language of her own, she conversed slowly, with a conciseness and point, which, added to a matchless earnestness that was the predominant trait of her conversation as it was of her character, mnade her a most delightful companion. Persons were never her theme, unless public characters were under discussion, or friends who were to be praised, which kind office she frequently took upon herself. One never dreamed of firivolities in Mrs. Browning's presence, and gossip felt itself out of place. Yourself, not herself, was always a pleasant subject to her, calling out her best sympathies in joy, and yet more in sorrow. Books and hiimanity, great deeds, and, above all, politics, which include 248

Page  249 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. all the grand questions of the day, were foremost in her thoughts, and therefore oftellest on her lips I speak not of religion, for wvith her everything was religioli." We have expressed our opinion so fully reg,arlding the merits and defects of Mrs. Browning,'s poetry, ill the progress of this sketch, that we need do no more at its close tllha briefly sum up what has been said. Rarelyliaveso rich a geniuis, such aln affiltlent and powerful imaginatioli, such an acute and originial mind, such a passionate devotion to the poetic art, been so withheld firom producing their worthly fruit, by want of suitable elaboration and chaste and simple expression. Hlad MIrs. Browning's constructive f.teulty been equlal to the wealth of her originating powers, and had she studied luminous expression, she mighlt have given to the world one of those poems which are its perennial delight and inspiration. As it is, though she has written much that is full of beauty and power, her longest poems are least successful, and her fame must rest chiefly onl her humbler efforts. But in many respects she is the noblest poet of our time. In her poems as in no other does an intense love for God and man throb and palpitate. They glow as do no others with the enthultisiasm of humanity." Wlhether thyv sing of Italian patriots, or the ragged children of London, or the fugitive slaves of America, they have anl intense moral earnestness, springingi from an intense love of the race. And as we lamenct that the author's genius is inadequately expressed in her works, we thank God for the woman's soul whose greatness no poems can express 249.

Page  250 250 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. BY JAMES PARTON. THERE are those who think it unjust that we should bestow upon the children of song honors such as are seldom given to the most illustrious servants of their kind. V,hat a scene does the interior of an opera-house present when a great singer comes upon the stage, or leaves it after a brilliant display of her talent! In Italy the whole audience spring to their feet, and give cheer upon cheer, continuing their vociferation for several minutes; and it has occasionally happened that a great crowd has rushed round to the stage door and drawn home the vocalist in her own carriage. In these colder climes we bestow less applause, but more money. The favorite of the public who enchants us upon the operatic stage receives a larger income in the northern nations of Europe and America than England bestowed upon Wellington for maintaining her honor in the field, and larger than any nation has ever bestowed upon its savior. There may be some injustice in this. It is not, however, a part of the general scheme that the greatest sum of money shall be the reward of the greatest merit; and we are generally inclined to pay a far higher price for pleasure than for more substantial benefits. Life needs cheering. Among the thousands of our countrymen who gave three dollars, or five, or ten, to hear Jenny Lind sing four songs, who does not now feel that he received the worth of his money? and who would

Page  251 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. not gladly pay the sum again to enjoy that rapture olice more? These sonlg birds, too, are among the rarest of natutre's rarities, and rarities are ever costly. Before a great singer can be produced, there must exist a combination of gifts and circumstances. A fine voice is only one of the requisites. The possessor of that voice must have received from nature an extraordinary physical staminia and a great power of sustained effort, as well as a considerable degree of taste and intelligence. The trainiing of a great vocalist is one of the severest trials of human endurance, -so severe that no'creature would submit to it unless compelled to do so by necessity or an overmastering ambition. I have heard young, ladies try their powers upon the operatic stage, who had had what is called in New York a thorough musical education, and who had received from nature a sufficient voice. Before they had beenl three minutes upon the stage their incapacity would become so apparent as to be painful to the listener. They had every requisite for success except a five years' drill from some cral)bbed and unrelentitng old Italian master. When, therefore, we burst into wild applause after the execution of a fine aria, and when we pay for its execution a thousand dollars, it is not the mere accidental possession of a voice which we so bountifully coinpensate; it is culture, toil, years of self-denial, as well. The sing,ers may be reaping, the late reward of the greater part of a lifbtime of most arduous exertion. To no singer who has ever delighted the public are these remarks more applicable than to the subject of this memoir. The gift that nature bestowed upon her was beautiful, but imperfect, and a culture which we may well style heroic was necessary to perfect it. Jenny Lind is a native of Sweden. She was born at Stockholm, October 6, 1821. Her parents were respectable, laborious, and poor - her father a teacher of lan' 251 S'

Page  252 252 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. guages, her mother a school-mistress. Jenny was the first child of their marriage, and there was afterwards born to them a son named John. There is a great difference in children as to the age when they can first siong a tlune; some children being unable to sing, a bar of one until they are six or seven years of age. Jenny Lind, it need scarcely be said, was not one of these. She could sing the airs of her native land with correctness, and even with some expression, when she was but twenty months old. By the time she was three years of age singing was her delight; she was always sing illg; and she had the faculty of catching every song she heard, and repeating it with remarkable exactness. She was a lonely and timorous child. The absence of her father, who was abroad all day pursuing his vocation, and the constant occupation of her mother in her school, left her very muche alone; and durling her solitary hours, her voice and her music were the unfitiling solace of her existence. The first nine years of her life were marked by no particular event. The Swedes are a musical people, and many children in Stock holm, besides Jenny Lind, were'fond of singing. VWhen she was about nine years of age the silvery tones of her voice chanced to catch thle ear of an actress, named Lundberg, who at once discerned its capabilities. Madame Luntdberg went to the parents and told -them how delilghted she had been with the silnging, of their child, and advised them'to have her educated for the opera. It so happened that the mother of the child, being a rather strict Lutheran, had a prejudice agrainst the drama, and regarded going upon the stage as something dishonorable, if not disreputable. The talents of the child, however, were so remarkable that her scruples were in part overcome, and she consented to leave the matter to the decision of Jenny herself. The child was more than willing, and very soon Madame Lundberg had the -pleasure of conlducting her to one of the most noted music

Page  253 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. masters of Stockholm. M. Croelius-for such was the name of this teacher-was an old man; and nothling delights a good old mnusic-teacher more than to have a docile and gifted ptipil. Ile soon became an enthusiast respecting his new acquisition, and at leclgthl he resolved to present her to Count Puiceke, managcr of the Kingi's Theatre. It is a custom in Europe for the conductors of royal operahouses to educate and train promising pupils, iand there is sometimes a school attached to the theatre for the purpose. IV,hen the opera-house in New York was buiit, something of the same kind was contemplated, andl consequently the edifice was named "Acadlemy of iMusic," - a title which it retains without lhaving (lone anythingi to merit it. Wheni the enthusiastic CroeliLus presented Jenniy Lidcl to the managaer of the royal opera, that potentate satw before him a pale, shlrinking, slender, under-sized child, between nine and ten years of age, attired with Sunday stiffness in a dress of black bomnbazine. The count, we are told, gazedl upon her with astonishment and contempt. You ask a foolish thing," said he. "lWhat shall we do with that ugly creature? See what feet she has! and then her fhtc! She will never be presentable. No, we cannot take her. Certainly not! " The old mutsic-teacher was too confident of the value of the talent which the childl possessed to be abashed by this ungracious reception. " AWell," said he, with some warmth, " if you will not take her, I, poor as I am, will take her myself, and have her educated for the stage." The old man's enthusiasm piqued the curiosity of the noble manager, and he consented at length to hear her sing. Un developed as her voice then was, it already had some of that rapture-giving power which it afterwards possessed in such an eminent degree. The count chainged his mind, and Jenny 253

Page  254 4 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. was at once admitted to the training-school attached to the royal opera.* There she had the benefit of highly compe tent instructors, as well as the inspiring companionship of children engaged in the same pursuits. The pupils of the training-school were required, now and then during the season, to perform in little plays written and arirangeed expressly for them. It was in one of these, in the eleventh year of her age, that Jenny Lind made her first appearance in public. The part assiygned her was that of a begar-girl, - a character which her pallid countenance and slight person fitted her to represent. She acted with so much simplicity and truth, and sang, her songs with such intelligent expres sion, as to secure the favor of the audience in a high degree. She made what we now call a hit. Other children's plays were written for her, in which for two winters she delighted the people of Stockholm, who regarded her as a procdigy. At the height of her transient celebrity, her brilliant prospects clouded over. She observed with alarm that her upper notes grew weaker, and that her other tones were losing their pleasure-giving quality. By the time she was thirteen years of age her upper notes had almost ceased to exist, and no efforts of her teachers could restore them. It was as though the heiress of a great estate were suddenly informed that her guardian had squandered it, and that she must prepare to earn her livelihood by ordinary labor. The scheme of educatidng her for the opera was given up, tlhough slhe continued for four years longoer.to be an assiduous member of the school, studying instrumental music, and the theory of composition. One of the severest of her trials was being forbidden to use her voice, except for a very short time every day in very simple music. Her seventeenth birthday came round. The master of the * This anecdote and some other particulars are derived from "Queens of Song," by Ellen Creathorne Clayton: London and New York, 1865.

Page  255 JENNY LIND GOLDQSCHMIDT. traininng-school was about to give at the theatre a grand con cert, in order to display the talents and improvement of his pupils. The chief part of this coinceert was to consist of the celebrated fourth act of "Robert le Diable," in which Alice has but one solo assiygned to her, and that is not a favorite with singers. When all the parts had been distributed except that of the undesirable Alice, the director thought of poor Jenny Lind, and offered it to her. She accepted it and began to study the music. She had become a woman since she had last looked the terrible Lpublic in the face, and she be came so anxious as the time ap,proached for her reappearance, that she began to fear the total suspension of her powers. A strange thing happened to her that night. When the moment came for her to singl the solo attached to her part, she rose superior to the fright under which slhe had been suffering, and began the air with a degree of assurance which surprised her self. Wonderful to relate, her upper notes sudldenly re turned to her in all their former brilliancy, and every note in her voice seemed at the same moment to recover its long lost sweetness and power. No one had anticipated anything from the Alice of that evelning, and thunders of applause 4 greeted the unexpected triumph. Except herself no one was so much surprised as the director of the school, whose pupil she had been for six years. Besides warmnly congratulating her that evening, he told her on the following mornilng that she was cast for the important part of Agatha in " Der Frieschiiltz." Great was the joy of the modest girl, conscious of her powers, upon learning that Agatha, the very character towards which she had long felt herself secretly drawn, but to which of late she had hardly dared to aspire, was the one appointed fi)r her first appearance at the royal opera. At the last rehearsal, it is said, she sang the music with so much power and expres sion that the musicians laid down their instruments to give her a round of applause. 2,, j- 0 4w

Page  256 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. The evening came. We have an account of her de'l)ut from the pen of hier firiend and kindred genlius, Frederika Bremer: - "I saw her at the evening representation. She was then in the spring of life, fresh, brilght, and serene as a morning in May; perfect in form; her hands and her arms peculiarly graceful, and lovely in her whole appearance. She seemed to move, speak, and sing without effort or art. All was nature and hlarmony. Her singilig was distiinguished especially by its purity, and the power of soul which seemed to swell in her tones. Her'mezzo voice' was delilghtful. In the night scene, where Agatha, seein(g her lover coiming, breathes out her joy in rapturous song, our youiing, sing,er, onl turning, fiom the window at the back of the staige to the spectattors agaiu, was pale for joy; and in that pale joyousness she sang with a burst of outflowingv love and life, tl-t called forth, not the mirth, but the tears of the auditors." But her probation was not yet finished. After tfis dazzling success, she remained for a while the favorite of the Stockholmn public, adding new characters to her list and striving in every way known to her to remedy certain seiious defects in her voice and vocalization. Miss Clayton informs us thatt her voice was oriiginally wanting, in elasticity, which prevented her from hlolding a note, and made it difficult for lhet to execute those rapid passages and tliose brilliant effects upon which the reputation of an operatic singer so nLmuctl de(pends. Who could im,agine this when hearing that wonderful execution of her later years? IJ her efforts to improve her voice while performing at the opera she overstrained it, and the public of Stockholm, limited in number and fastidious in taste, left her to siong to empty boxes. She felt the necessity of better instruction than her native city afforded. Garcia 256 qw

Page  257 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. was then living at Paris, at the height of his reputation as a trainer of vocalists. She desired to place herself under his instruction; but although she had been a leading performer at the Stockholm opera for a year and a half, she was still unable to afford the expense of a residence in Paris. To raise the money she gave concerts, accompanied by her father, in the principal towns of Sweden and Norway. Her concerts were successful, accorclding to the standard of Sweden; never theless, she was compelled to make the journey alone, while her parents pursued their ordinary labors at home. Her first interview with Garcia was disheartening in the extreme. "ty good girl," said he, after hearing her sing, "you have no voice; or, I should rather say, that you had a voice, but are now on the point of losing it. Your organ is strained and worn out; and the only advice I can offer you is to recommend you not to sing a note for three months. At the end of that time, conme to me again, and I will do my best for you." Few readers can conceive of the dejection and tedium of such a period spent by this lonely girl, far fiom her home and country, and denied the consolation of exercising her talent. "I lived," said she once, "on my tears and my thoughts of home." At the appointed time she stood again in the master's presence. Ile told her that her voice'was improved by rest and capable of culture. She placed herself under his instruction, and profited by it; but, strange to say, Garcia never predicted for her a strilking success, either because her voice had not yet reg.tined its fireshness, or the old master's ear had lost its acuteness. He used to say that if she had as much voice as she had intelligence, she would become the greatest singer in Europe, and that she would have to sing second to many who had not half her ability. 17 257

Page  258 258 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIlE AGE. During, her residence at Paris, she had the honor of singing before Meyerbeer, who instantly perceived the peerless quality of her voice. Ile arranged a grand rehearsal for her, with a full orchestra, when she sang the three most difficult scenes from three favorite operas. She delilghtecl the company of musicians and the great master who heard her, and she narrowly escaped being engaged at once for the Gra-Ld Opera of Paris. Her musical education was now complete. Returning 'home, she gave a series of performances at Stockholm, which enraptured the pul)ic, carried her local reputation to the hig,hest point, and secured for her a pressing invitation to sing at Copenhagen. It seems that she was still distrustful of her I)owers, and shrank from the ordeal of appearing in a country not her own. I1er scruples at length gave way, and she appeared before the Danes ill the part of Alice, in " Robert le Diable." We have an interesting account of her success at Copenhagen, in the autobiogrraphy of Ilans Christian Andersen, who not only heard her sing, but became acquainted with her. Ile says: " It was like a new revelation in the realms of art. The youthful, fresh voice forced itself into every heart; here reigned truth and nature, and everything was full of meaning and intelligence. At one concert she sang, her Swedish songls. There was something so peculiar in this, so bewitching, people thought nothing about the concert-room; popular melodies, executed by a being so purely feminine, and bearing the universal stamp of geniLus, exercised an omniipotent sway. All Copenhagen was in raptures." The students of the university gave her a serenade by torchlight, and she was the first to whom such a compliment was paid. Her success incited her to fresh exertions. An

Page  259 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. dersen, who was with her when this serenade was given, records, that after it was over she said, while her cheekli was still wet with tears -- "Yes! yes! I will exert myself; I will endeavor; I will be better qualified when I again come to Copcenhagen!" It vw at Copenhagen that she began to taste the nol)lest fruit of her exertions, -the delight of doing good. Andersen relates the first occasion of her singing for a benevolent object: On one occasion, only," he says, "did I hear her express her joy in her talent and her self-consciousness. It was during her residence in Copenhagen. Almost every evening, she appeared either in the opera or at concerts; every hour was in requisition. She heard of a society, the object of which was to assist unfortunate children, and to take them out of the hands of their parents, by whom they were misused and compelled to beg or steal, and to place them in other and better circumstances. Benevolent people subscribed annually a small sum each for their support; nevertheless, the means for this excellent purpose were very limited.'BIut have I not still a disengag,ed evening?' said she;'let me give a nilght's performance for the benefit of those poor children: but we will hlave double prices!' Such a performance was given, and returned large proceeds. When she was informied of this, and that, by this means, a number of poor children would be benefited for several years, her countenance beamed, and the tears filled her eyes. "'It is, however, beautiful,' said she,'that I can sing so!'" From this time forward, she knew little but triutmph. When she lert Stockholm again to enter uponl an engagement 259

Page  260 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. at Berlin, the streets were crowded with people to bid her farewell. At Berlin, the Countess Rossi (Madiame Sonta,g) pronounced her "the best singer in Europe." At IIamnburg, a silver wreath was presented to her at the end of a most brilliant engagement. At Vienna, her success was beyond all precedent, and when she reappeared at Berlin the enthusiasm was such that it became a matter of great difliyllty to procure admission to the theatre. WVe have heard much ourselves lately of speculation ill tickets. After she had performed a hundred nights in Berlin, the manager found it necessary to issue the following notice: "Tickets must be applied for on the day preceding that for which they are required, by letter, signed by the applicant's proper and Christian name, profession, and place of al)odle, and sealed with wvax, bearing the writer's initials with his arms. No more than one ticket can be granted to the same person; and no person is entitled to apply for two consecutive nights of the enchantress's performance." After four years of such success as this, her popularity ever incereasing,, she accepted an engagemenlt to sing in London. Her departure from her native city was attenided by most extraordinary demonstrations. Her last concert in Stockholm was given in aid of a charitable institution founded iby herself, and the tickets were sold at auction at prices unlhcetrd of before in frugal Sweden. MAany thousand persons, it is said, were upon the wharf when she sailed, and she went on board the steamer amid the cheers of the people and the music of military bands. She reached London in April, 1847, and soon began her rehearsals at the QuLeen's Theatre. WVhen her voice was first heard in that spacious edifice at a rehearsal, no one was so enchanted as Lablache, the celebrated basso. 260

Page  261 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHfIIDT. "Every note," he exclaimed, " is like a pearl!" She was pleased with the simile, and when they had become better acquainted, she reminded him of it ill a very ag,reeable manner. She came up to him one morning at rehearsal, and said to him: " Will you do me the favor, Signor Lablache, to lend me your hat?" 'Much surprised, he nevertheless handed her his hat, which she took with a deep courtesy, and, tripping away with it to the back part of the stage, began to singo an air illto it. She then brought back the hat to Lablache, and, ordering that portly personage to kneel, she returned it to him with the remark: I have now made you a rich man, signor, for I have given you a hat full of pearls!" Everything which a favorite does seems graceful and pleasant. This trifling, act delighted the whole company. Three weeks elapsed before she appeared in London, during which the excitement of the public rose to fever heat, and when the eventful evenitng came the theatre was crammed to its utmost capacity. The Queen, Prince Albert, and many of the leading personages ill Englnld were present. She sang the part of Alice, in "Robert le Diable." Nervous, as she really was, she succeeded so completely in controlling herself, that she appeared to the audience remarkably selfpossessed, and by the time she had completed her first aria every one present felt thlat the greatest singer of the time, if not of any time, was this stranger from Stockholm. "At its conclusion," said one of the critics, "she gave the 'Poulade' in full voice, limpid and deliciously sweet, and finished witli a shake so delicate, so softly executed, that each one held his breath to listtvn, and the torrent of applatise at the end baffled description." Every succeeding effort was a new triumph, and when the 261

Page  262 202 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. performance closed the audience were in such raptures that they behaved more like Italians than Englishmen. Her acting, too, at this time was greatly admired, and there was an air of simplicity and goodness about her which won every heart. It is not necessary for us to dwell upon her career in England, because there is. nothing to say of it except that, everywhere and in every character, she appeared to have all the success and glory which the stage affords. Such wias the struggle for tickets that persons were known to comne hlimdreds of miles to Lolldon on purpose to hear her sing, and, after spending several days in fruitless attempts to gain admission to the opera house, return home without haviing heard her. At Edinburgh a concert was given, for performing in which she received a thousand pounds sterling, La,blachle two hundred, and another singer one hundred and fifty, and yet the managers cleared twelve hundred pounds. IIer charities constantly increased in nutimber and amount. In almost every place she gave a part of her g,ains to charitable institutions. After two years of continual triumph, she resolved to take her leave of the stage, and to siing thenceforth only in the concert-room. IIer last performance was in May, 1849, when she played the part of Alice, in the presence of the Queen of England and an immense multitude of the most disting,uished personages in England. Her fame had long ago crossed the Atlantic. In October, 1849, Mr. P. T. Barnum, who had recently returned home after a three years' tour with the famous General Tom Thumb, conceived the haipy idea of bestowing upon his countrymen the delight of hearing the voice of the Swedish Nightiingale. "I had never heard her sing," he tells us. "IIer reputation was sufficient for me." lie cast about him at once fior a fit person to send to Europe to engage the songstress, and soon pitched upon the rig,ht person, Mr. John Hall Wilton,

Page  263 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. who had had some experience in the business of entertaining the public. Ile was instructed to engage Jeinny Lind on shares, if lhe could; but he was authorized, if he could do no better, to offer her a thousand dollars a night for one hundred and fifty nights. Besides this, all her expenses were to be paid, iincluding, servants, carrilges, and secretary, and she was to have the privilege of selectilng three professional persons to accompany her. Mr. Barnum further agreed to place the whole amount of money for the hundred and fifty nights in the hands of a London banker before she sailed. When Mr. WAVilton reached Europe he discovered that four persons were neg,otiating with her for an American tour. All of these individuals, however, merely proposed to divide with her the profits, and none of them were in a position to guarantee her ag,ainst loss. She frankly said to Wilton, after she had satisfied hlersclf respecting Mr. Barnum's character: "As those who are trying to treat with me are all anxious that I should participate in the profits or losses of the enterprise, I much prefer treating with you, since your principal is willing, to assume all the responsibility, and take the entire management and chances of the result upon himself." The lnegotiationl did not linger. Mr. Barnum gives a ludicrous account of the mannler in which he received the news that Jeinny Lind had si,gned the desired agreement. Ite received the telegraphic dispatch in Philadelphia which annouinced Wilton's arrival in New York with the agreelnent in his pocket, and that MIademoiselle Lind was to begin her concerts in the following September. "I was somewhat startled," he tells us, "by this sudden announcement, and feeling that the time to elapse before her arriva.l was so long that it would 1)be policy to keep the engagetnent private for a few months, I immediately telegraphed Wilton not to menltion it to any person, and that I would 263

Page  264 261 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. meet him the next day in New York. The next day I started for that city. On arriviing at Princeton we met the cars, and, pllrchasilg the morningi papers I was overwhelmed with surprise and dismay to find ill them a fulil account of my engagenmeit with Jenny. however, this premature announcement coultd not be recalled, and I put the best firce upon the matter. Being anxious to learn how this communication would strike the public mind, I informed the gentlemanly conductor (whom I well knew) that I had made an engagement with Jenny Lind, and that she would surely visit this country in the following AtiLgust. ' Jenny Lind! Is she a dancer?' asked the conductor. "I informed the conductor who and what she was, but his question hadcl chllilled me as if his words were ice! Really, thought I, if this is all tlhat a man in the capacity of a railroad conductor between Philadelphia and New York knows of the greatest songstress in the world, I am not sure that six months will be too long a time for me to occupy in enli,ghtening the entire public in regard to her merits." Hiow well Mr. Barnum employed that time, most of us remember. Long before the great songstress landed all America was on the qui vive. On Sunday, September 1, 1850, at twelve o'clockl, the steamer "Atlantic," with Jenny Lind on board, came to opposite the quarantine ground, and B\Ir. Barnum, who had been on the island since the evening, before, was soon on board. "But where did you hear me sing?" Jenny Lind asked him, as soon as the first compliments had been exchanged. "I never had the pleasure of hearilng you before in my life," said the manag,er. I"ow is it possible," slhe rejoined, " that you dared risk so much money on a person you never heard sing?" "I risked it on your reputation," he replied, "which in

Page  265 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. musical matters I would much rather trust than my own judrgment." Mr. Barnum had made ample provision for her Ilanding. The wharves and ships were covered with thousands of people on that pleasant Sunday afternoon to see her step on shore. A large bower of green trees and two triumphtl arches coveredl with flags and streamers, were seen upon the wharf,the work of Mr. Barnum's agents. The carriage of that enterprising person conveyed her to the Irving, Ilouse, which was surrounded all that afternoon and evening with crowds of people. Mr. Barnum tells us that he had the pleasure of dining with her that afternoon, and that during the meal she invited him to take a glass of wine with her. He replied: Miss Lind, I do not think you can ask any other favor on earth which I would not gladly grant; but I am a teetotaler, and must beg to be permitted to drink your health and happiiiess ill a glass of cold water." Nineteen days elapsed before her first appearance in public, during which she was the centre of attraction, and the theme of every tongue. The acuite and experienced Barnlum, perceiving that his enterprise was an assured success, endeavored to guard against the only danger which could threaten it. Two days after the arrival of the nightingale he told her that he wished to make a little alteration in their agreement. " What is it?" she asked, much surprised. "I am convinced," replied he, "that our enterprise wilI be much more successful than either of us anticipated. I wish, therefore, to stipulate that you shall always receive a thousand dollars for each concert, besides all the expenses, and that after taking fifty-five hundred dollars per night, for expenses and my services, the balance shall be equally divided between us." Jenny Lind was astonished; antd supposipg that the propo 265

Page  266 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. sition was dictated by a sense of justice, she grasped flie manager by the hand, and exclaimed: "Mr. Barnum, you are a gentleman of honor! You are generous. I will singo for you as long as you please. I will sing for you in America, - in Europe,- anywhere!" Mir. Barnum hastens to let us know that the chainge in the agreement was not the dictate of pure generosity. IJe feared that envious persons would create discontent in her mind, and he thought "it would be a stroke of policy to prevent the possibility of such an occurrence." The tickets for the first concert were sold at auction, and produced the astonishing sum of $17,864. Jenny Lind instantly resolved to give her portion of the proceeds to the charitable institutions of the city. The eventftil evening came. Five thousand persons assembled at Castle Garden, who had paid for the privilege sums which varied fromn two dollars to two hundred and twent —five. It was the largest audience before which she had ever appeared, and she was considerably agitated. When the coLLnductor of the concert led her tforward, attired in white, with a rose in her lhair, the audience rose and gave her three tllhundering clheers, and continued for several seconds to clap their hands and wave their hats and handkerchiefs. She had a singltlarly pleasing way of acknowled,ging the applause of an audience. She had a timidcl, shrinking look, which appealedl powerfully to popular sympathy, and inflamed the enthusiasm of the spectators to the highest degrce. The orchestra began to play the prelude to "Casta Diva,"- a piece which displayed all the power, all the thrilling sweetness, and some of the defects of her wonderful organ. Never had an assembly come together with such high-wrought expectations. Nevertheless, those expectations seemed to be more than realized, and the last notes of the song, were lost in the irrepressible acclamations of the people. 2C6

Page  267 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. This success was the beginning of a splendid calecr in America. Under M1r. Barnumn's management, she gave ninety-five concerts. The total receipts were $712,161. The averige receipts of each concert were $7,496. The suili received by Jenny Lind was $176,675. Mr. Barnum's receipts, after paying her, were $535,486. Some of the tickets broug,ht remarkable prices. The highest price paid for a ticket in New York was $225; in Boston, $625; in Providence, $650; in Philadelphia, $625; in New Orleans, $240; in St. Louis, $150; in Baltimore, $100. The price of seats, not sold by auction, ranged from three dollars to seven dollars. After encheanting the United States it remained for Jenny Lind to conquer the fastidious and difficult public of IIavana. A strikiing scene occurred on the occasion of her first appearance in hIavana. The people, it seems, were much offendced by the'unusual prices charg,edfor admission, and came to the concert determined not to be pleased, - a circumstance of which Jenny Liud was isgnoranit. The scene was thus described at the time in the New York Tribune: "Jenny Lind appeared, led on by Signor Belletti. Some three or four hundred persons clapped their hands at her appearance,; bitt this token of approbation was instantly silenced by at least two thoisandcl five hundred decided hisses. Thus, having settled the matter that there should be no forestalling of public opinion, and that if applause was given to Jenny Lind in that house it should first be incontestably earned, the most solemn silence prevailed. I have heard the Swedish nigh,tinga,le often in Europe as well as America, and have ever noticed a distinct tremulousness attendcling her first appearalnce in any city. Indeed, this feeling was plainly mauifested in her countenance as she neared the foot-lights; but whlen she witnessed the kind of reception in store for her, a 267

Page  268 268 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. so different from anythingo she had reason to expect,- her countenance changced in an instant to a haughty self-posses sion, her eye flashed defiance, and, becoming, immovable as a statue, she stood there, perfectly calm and beautiful. She was satisfied that she now had an ordeal to pass and a victory to gain worthy of her powers. In a moment,.ber eye scainned the immense audience, the music began, and then followed how can I describe it? — such heavenly strains as I verily believe mortal never breathed except Jenny Lind, and mortal never heard except friom her lips. Some of the oldest Cas tilians kept a frown upon their brow and a curling sneer upon their lip; their ladies, however, and most of the audience began to look surprised. The gushing melody flowed on, ilncreasing in beauty and glory. The caballeros, the senoras, and senoritas began to look at each other; nearly all, however, kept their teeth clenched and their lips closed, evidently determined to resist to th% last. The torrent flowed faster and faster, the lark flew higher and higher, the melody grew richer and richer; still every lip was compressed. By and by, as the rich notes came <lashing in rivers upon our enraptured ears, one poor critic involuntarily whispered a' brava.' This outbursting, of the soull was instantly hissed down. The stream of harmony rolled on till, at the close, it made a clean sweep of every obstacle, and carried all before it. Not a vestige of opposition remained, but such a tremendous shout of applause as went up was never before heard. "The triumph was most complete. And how was Jenny Lind affected? She, who stood a few moments previous like adamant, now trembled like a reed in thle wind before the stormn of eilthusiasm which her own simple notes had produced. Tremblingly, slowly, and almost bowiing her face to the ground, she withdrew. The roar and applause of victory increased. Encore! encore! encore! came from every lip. She again appeared, and, courtesying low, ag,ain

Page  269 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDr. withdrew; but again, again, and again did they call her forth, and at every appearance the thunders of applause rang, louder and louder. Thus five times was Jenny Lind called out to receive their unanimous and deafening plaudits." Mr. Barnum gives his version of the story: "I cannot express," he says, "what my feelings were as I watched this scene from the dress circle. When I witnessed her triumph, I could not restrain the tears of joy that rolled down my cheeks; and, rushing through a private box, I reached the stage just as she was withdrawing after the fifth encore. "'God bless you! Jenny, you have settled them,' I ex claimed. "'Are you satisfied?' said she, throwing her arms around my neck. She, too, was crying with joy, and never before did she look so beautiful in my eyes as on that evening,." In Hiavana, as in every other large city in America, she bestowed immense sums in charity, and gave charity concerts which produced still larger benefactions. During, her residence in America, she gave away, in all, about fifty-eight thousand dollars. The precaution which Mr. Barnum had taken against the intermeddling of envious persons proved to be insufficient, and, after the ninety-fifth concert, Jenny Lind desired the contract to be annulled, and to give concerts on her own account. The manager gladly assented, and they separated excellent friends. Mr. Horace Greeley, in one of his recent contributions to the "New York Ledger," adds an anecdote of Mademoiselle 269

Page  270 270 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Lind's stay among us. It was at the time when the " PL)chester IKnlockings" were a topic of interest. I called," said Mr. Greeley, " on Mademoiselle Jcenny Lind, then a new-comer among ous, and was conversing about the current marvel with the late N. P. Willis, while 3i1ademoiselle Lind was devoting herself more especially to some other callers. Our conversation caught M'tdemnoiselle L.'s ear and arrested her attention; so, after making some inquiries, she asked if she could witness the so-called'Manifestations.' I answered that she could do so by coming to my house in the heart of the city, as IKaty Fox was then staying with us. She assented, and a time was fixed for her call; at which time she appeared, with a considerable retinue of total strangers. All were soon seated around a table, and the'rappings' were soon audible and abundant.'Take your hands from under the table I' Mademoiselle Jenny called across to me in the tone and manner of an indifferently bold archduchess.'What?' I asked, not distinctly comprehending her.'Take your hands from under the table!' she imperiously repeated; and I now understood that she suspected me of causing, by some legerdemain, the puzzling, concussions. I instantly clasped my hands over my head, and there kept them until the sitting closed, as it did very soon. I need not add, this made not the smallest differences with the'rappings;' but I was lhoroughly and finally cured of any desire to exhibit or commend them to strangers." Jenny Lind, like Miss Kemble, met her destiny in America. Among the performers at her concerts was Mr. Otto Goldschmidclt, a pianist and composer, whom she had formerly known in Germany, and with whom she had pursued her musical stcudies. I1er firiendship for this gentleman ripened into a warmer attachment, and ended in their marriage at p

Page  271 JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT. Boston, in 1851. After residing some time at Northampton, il Miassachusetts, they returned to Europe, where they have ever since resided. Occasionally, Madame Goldschlmidt has appeared in public concerts, accompanied by her husband. She is now forty-seven years of age, and her voice is said to retain a considerable degree of its former brilliancy and power. Living, as she does, in great privacy, little is known of her way of life; but that little is honorable to her. IHer charities, it is said, are still bountiful and continuous, and she is as estimable a member of society as she is a shining ornament to it. The great secret of her success as an artist was well expressed by her friend, Jules Benedict: "Jenny Lind makes a conscience of her art." 2?71

Page  272 272 ElMINEi.T WOMEn' OF THE AGE. OUR PIONEER EDUCATORS. BY REV. E. B. IIUNTINGTON. To woman rather than to man, and to woman in this century rather than in any former one, belongs the credit of preparing the way for the fuiture libleral education of women. Hereto.)fore the aids to her education have been few and defective. A really liberal education for her has hardly bccn possible. Colletgiate and University courses have been closed against her; so that if occasionally a woman has succeeded in gaining, the reputation of a scholar, it has been mainly due to her own unaided exertions, -a triumph of her personal genius and will. We have reached a state of public sentinient now, however, which, partially, at least, accords to woman the right to enter any field of literature or art, which she may choose; and, to a certain extent, we are furnishing her with such aids as for generations have been furnished for her brothers. Already we are gathering excellent fruits from this advance made in our theory and system of woman's culture. Our multiplied young ladies' seminaries and collegiate institutions, and still more our colleges and professional schools in which the two sexes are, to their mutual benefit, prosecuting together the studies which were formerly confined to only one of them, are important results already attained. Still maturer fruit we have, in the increasing numbers of

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Page  273 MRS. EMMA WILLARPD. thoroughly educlated women lwho are now prel).pared to occupy ch-airs of instruction, once filled only by the most honored alumni of our best universities. WVe are coming to welcome womatn's taste, and tact, and power, illto every department of our educational work, and we have much to hope from the new element thus introduced. Without attempting to name, even, the many eminent women whose personal attainments and services have contributed larg,ely towards this result, we shall, in this chapter, briefly sketch the career of only two of them, who, by common consent, runst be held to rank as pioneers in this most excellent work. MRS. EMMA WILLARD. First among the women, still living, who have attained high rank as professional educators, must stand the name at the head of this sketch. And this position Mrs. Willard deserves, whether we regard her as a pioneer, creationg for herself, and her sex, a new place and rank among educators, or simply as an earnest and skilful worker, renderiing eminent service in this field. That she is fairly entitled to this em. inecne among the gifted women of our day, a very brief sketch of her career will fully show. The story itself is a true epic, needing only the simplest recital, -its main facts being more excitilng, than any fiction we should dare to; invent. HER BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD. February 23, 1787, is the date of her birth; Samuel and Lydia (Hinsdale) Hart, her parents; and a quiet country farmhouse in the parish of Wortiington, in Berlin, Connecticut, her birthplace. Born of the best New England stock, she inherited the noblest qualities of her parentage. IIer fiather, a man of unusual strength of intellect and will, was self 18~~ 18 273

Page  274 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. reliant, and well-read, in, at least, the English literature of the times; and her mother a quiet and practical woman, gifted with native tact and shrewdness, gentle, firm, and efficient. The home they made for their children wvas just the home in which gifted children would like to be -reared. And this home, more than anything else determined the character and success of Emma, their sixteenth child, whose record we are now to trace. Being one of seventeen of her father's children, and one of the ten whom her ownl mrother had borne him, she early found in this large circle one important means of her training. Let us enter that rural home. We will take an early evening hour, about mid-winter, and for the date it may be anywhere between her birthday and the year 1804, the date of her first attempt to teach. The scene we shall witness will best prepare us for what we are to learn of the great work of her future life. The children have already spent their six hours in their school. They have severally done up the chores which, in those primitive times, our children were supposed able to do. They had just finished with thanlksgiving their relishful supper. The youngest of them have already dropped away into the sweet sleep of their night's rest. The huge wood fire glows warmly upon that happy home-circle gathlering around it. The older children, all aglow with a joyful interest, finish the little story of their day's filn, and frolic, and work, and successively test their sklill in reading aloud a few well-chosen passages from the selectest authors of the day. Then father and mother, no less joyful, add the benediction of their few words of approval, and their timely hints for correction. And now, for another half hour, or hour, if this be deemed needed, the father and motherblessed mentors they!-read, in their turn, aloud, and with the skillwhich long practice has given them, their lessons for 274

Page  275 MRS. EMMA WILLARD. themselves and their little flock. Milton chances, it may be, to be the classic now in hand; and, as the magnificent word picture opens before them, the very youingest of the group is stirred with fancies and thoughts which shall be to them the germs of thought for many a year to come. Happy, blessed group, for whose early years such a home is furnished! What child of gifts could ftil of largest firuit ag,e, whose bloom is amid such home sunshine and warmth? Let us take one more lesson from that Worthington home; and let the mother of the family be our teacher. Notice with what womanly ingenutity she makes their slender re sources ample for all their home wants, and even for the gratification of a cultivated home taste. Notice how thoulghtfully she provides for the poor family out under the hill, to whom the warm breakfast she sends them, makes the only glad hour of their poverty-stricken home. And then, when all these home and neighborhood duties are so skilfully discharged, she is not satisfied until she has given her children a lesson of thoughtful kindness to the little birds that are to sing for them. The refuse wool, which can be of iro use to the family, she teaches her little ones how to leave about on the bushes for a hint to the charming warblers to build their fleece-lined nests near to the human home which she would have blest by their sweet singing. And thus, this admirable home-training, with some two years of study in the village academy, then just opened under a skilful teacher, broulght Emima forward to the beginnicng of her life-work. She had used her opportunities well. She had been required to think and plan for herself. Her powers of observation and her practical jtudgment had been equally taxed and improved; and it is not too mnuch to say, that, in literary attainment, and still more, in ability to learn, she had exceeded her years. A young lady of fourteen, who, on a cold night in mid-winter, wrappitng herself in her cloak, 275

Page  276 276 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. with the horse-block for her observatory, cotld there l)y mnoonli,ghlt mlaster the lesson of astronomy, which the mierry song-sing,ers ill the house would leave her no opportunlity there to learn, has already some elements of character which are the best pledgces of success. HER EXPERIMIENTAL CAREER. She has nowv just passe(ld her seventeecth birthday. Through the friendly solicitation of a neighbor, an intelligent lady, who, though more than twice her age, had foulnd in her an equal, she was installed as teacher of one of the village schools. HLer first day's experience here settled many a principle for her filture course. The tact with which she beg,an would well have crownedl the end of another teacher's professional career. WAith her, a difficulty once encountered was mastered forever. Discarding the rod as a means of discipline,,fter the second day's trial, she sought and found her way so directly to the hearts of her pupils; she so skilfully planned their exercises and their sports; she so soon and so thoroughly excited their interest in their school duties, andcl so made this interest itself the only needed discipline, that her first school soon reported itself in all the neilghborhood as a marvel of the times. She found herself, even thus early in her mere girlhood, crowned with the laurels of her first success. And now, for three years, in learning, and teaching, a part of which time was spent in the excellent schools of M'rs. Royce and the Misses Patten, in Hartford, she was fast pri-eparing herself for entering upon the,great work of her life. And what was of especial value to her was the habit, then established, of prosecuting her own advanced studies while engaged in teaching those already mastered. Such success soon attracted attention. The sprilng of 1807 brings to her- calls from three important schools, in Westfield, Massachusetts; Middlebury, Vermont; and Hudson,

Page  277 MRS. EMMA WILLARD. New York. She accepted the Westfield call; and as assistant teacher ill the excellent academy of that tovwn, she at once won for herself a good name. Buit Iiss Hlart was not the person to fill long a subordinate platce. Before her first season was over, she had decided to accept the call from lMiddlebury; and midsummer of the same year fillnds lher at the head of her new school there. A year of ")rilliant success" crowns this third experiment, and settles the question of her fitness for the work she had chosen. Local jealousies soon spring up, and the school, ill spite of her great popularity, suffers; yet even this olpposition had its influence in training and disciplining her for a better and stronger work. W1hile in this struggle, a new call is made upon her. Dr. John Willard, of Middlebury, a physician of good repute, and a man of solid political merit, had discovered the gifts and graces of the young teacher. Nor was he lo,g in winning his way to her heart and hand. They were happily married in August, 1809, whlen, for a few years, her work of teaching was interrupted. Pecuniary reverses soon came upon them; and to aid iu retrieving their fortune, Mrs. Willard, in 1814, proposed to return to her chosen profession. She opened in MIiddlcbury a boarding-school for girls. But she was also preparingi for somethling more. She had, even then, detected how low and unworthy were the aims and results of that class of scho,)ls. She was especially struck with the difference between the collegiate course of a young man, and the highlest culture which the best schools of the day furnished for young women; and the discovery had been to her a summons to a new work. With what enthusiasm she entered upon thli(tt work! Carefully reviewing the whole sul-ject of womant's education, she drew up her plan for an enlarged course of study, corre 277

Page  278 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. sponding, as nearly as the dclifferet sexes would indicate, with the collegiate course for young men. But she found herself in advance of the ag,e. The leaders ill public opinion were not yet ready for such a chainge. She fortunately finds her husband in full sympathy with her, and so takes heart ng,ain, as she goes on testing its feasibility. Working daily, ten, twelve, or even fifteen hours in her school duties, she still takes time to master newv studies herself that she may in due time carry her pupils through them. And so, by exploring new fields of science and literature herself; by teacllhing and drilling her classes, as few classes of young ladies had ever before been drilled; by adding, to the old course new studies, and submitting the proficiency of her pupils to the criticism of the most learned men of the day; and by skilfully winningo over to her new ideas a few leading minds, she was preparing the way for a new era in womana's education; mnakiig possible the establishment and support of the great collegiate institutions in which women may take rank in all literature with their most scholarly brothers. Some four years were spent in this preparation. Meanwvhile the unwonted stimulus thus furnished to her own boarding-school had worked greatly in her favor. The fatme of her experiment had gone far and wide; and she was now prepared to tailke the first steps towards a permanent institution in which her enlarged views and hopes could be more fully realized. The very location of the institution was a matter of careful thought; and for it, the State of New York, and of that State, the neighborhood of the head-waters of the Hudson, was chosen. HER GREAT WORK. And now, in 1818, she is prepared for her work. She has matured her plans, and secured strength for their execution. 278

Page  279 MRS. EMMA WILLARD. She submits her proposals to the larg,e-minded Governor Clinton, of New York, with a special plea that he would la.y the matter in due form, and with the wei,ght of his approval, before the legislature. The very plan, which in 1814 had begun to shape itself to her eager search, sketched and resketched even to the seventh time, was thus, in 1818, submitted to the judgment of those who make and sustain the instituitions of their age. Of the details of that plan we have not slpace to treat. It is due, however, to say, that down to this day, nothing has been contributed to our educational literature which exceeds either the wisdom of its details or the eloquence of its plea. The governor heartily approved the measures which it recommended. The legislature so fitr endorsed them as to incorporate an academy at Waterford, New York, in which the founder mi,ght still more clearly show their feasibility. A still more important end secured by this movement was an acknowledgment, on the part of the legislature, that the academies in the State, designed for the education of women, were entitled to the same pecuniary aid as institutions of learning for the other sex; and a vote was accordingly passed appropriating their proportion of the literature fund to academies for girls. We cannot but feel that it was most fortunate for Mrs. Willard that such a man as Governor Clinton was ready to second her aims. And yet, it is very certain, we thinkl, that but for Mrs. Willard herself, her years of pltient and zealous and skilful working, we have no reasons for believing, that for at least another quarter of a century, such concessions would have been made, even to so just a demand. In the spring of 1819, thus encouraged by the legislature, Doctor and Mrs. Willard opened their new school in a rented building in WVaterford, New York. Their success was such 279

Page  280 2o0 EMINENT WOMEN OF THiE AGE. as to justify Governor Clinton, ill his message of 1820, to allude to it in these terms: -- "I cannot omit to call your attention to the Academy for Female Education, which was incorporated last session at Waterford, and which, under the superintendence of distinguished teachers, has already attained great usefulness and prosperity. As this is the only attempt ever made in this country to promote the education of the fem,le sex by the patronage of government; as our first and best impressions are derived from maternal affections; and as the elevation of the femnale character is inseparably connected withl happiness at home, and respectability abroad; I trust that youi will not be deterred, by commonplace ridicule, from extending, your munificence to this meritorious institution." The citizens of Troy, attracted b)y the success of the Waterford school, proposed to furnish a building with suitable grounds for a larger institution there, if Mrs. Willard would consent to a removal. On the expiration of their lease in Waiterford, this proposal from Troy was accepted, aned in May, 1821, they took possession of the Troy property, which since that date has been used for the Troy Seminary thus established. The same industry and zeal in her profession, and the same progress in her personal culture marked the course of MArs. Willard here as in her former schools. To the studies she had already added to the ordinary curriculum of the sehools for young ladies of tl)hat day, she now, after thoroulghly ilas tering them herself, adds the higher mathematics, geometry, including trigonometry, alg,ebra, conic sections, and Enfield's natural philosophy. With all this working she still found time for remodelling the science of geography and history; and the results of this painstaking to furnish herself suitable 4

Page  281 MRS. EMMA WILLARD. implements of her profession we had in Willard and Woodbridge'spopularGeography in 1821, and Mrs. Willatrd's "Temple of Time and Chrono,grapher of Ancient IIistory." This inlgenious design received a medal at the World's Fair in 1U81. The certificate of testimonial, signed by Prince Albert, was no empty tribute to the eminient author, but rathler a tribute to the substantial contribution to our aids in learniing and teaching what oulght to be the most fascinating, yet what had notoriously become the most uninteresting, of all our studies. In Centering upon her enllarged sphere of labors in Troy, AIrs. Willard found the gain of her preceding work. The yotung ladies whom she had taulght, and who had caugiht somiething of the inspiration of her aims and zeal, were nowV already trained for her help. Her experience and practice had made the work of classification and mana:gement easy to her, and her great reputation, of itself, would go far towards making her success a certainty. She had scarcely settled herself to her work when an iunforeseen trial came upon her. Her husband, who,,is head of the faimily, as physician and financial man,ager of the Ilarge household, all as her constant and intelligent adviser; had been a real partner and sharer of her work, after a painful sickness, dlied in 1825. On her rested now the great burden which he had borne for her. Yet, wvithl a resolution more than we look for in wvoman, she did not hesitate. Rearrangingi her school terms, simplifying a,nd methodizing, her workli, she could even add to her former duties the financial manafgemenit of her school. She neither neglected the claim of the humblest pupil under her charge, nor any important item of business in managingc the large establishment. Down to 1838, she thus continued the motive power and main spring of that first of Amnerican schools for young women. 281

Page  282 282 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. And her reward was not long delayed It came in the triumph of her own school. It came in the increased stimu lus she had given to the cause of womanl's education. It came iu the readier facilities accorded to youong women in our collegiate institutions; and still more signally in those large institutions expressly for women which her success had made possible. We can now readily see how much South Hadley, Oberlin, Antioch, Packer, and Vassar are indebted to her pioneer work. While achlieving. this success at home, she had not been unmindful of the claims of woman abroad. In 1830 she had soulght abroad the rest and health which her home duties requiired, and the relief from her professional work gave her the opportunity to examine the educational condition of women in other lands. Her womanly heart was touched with the report which came to her of the degraded condition of woman in classic Greece, and on her return she organized a society in Troy to aid in establishing a school in Athens for educating native teachers. She prepared a volume of her European tour, giving the benefit of its profits to the Greek school. But the time at length came when it was necessary for her to retire from the pressure of these great burdens upon her. Her son, Mr. John H. Willard, who had grown tip under a trainiing which had specially fitted him for it, and his wife, who for nineteen years had been with her as pupil, or teacher, or vice-principal, now accepted the trust, and relieved her of its further care. But Mrs. Willard all these years had been not simply the practical teacher, but also a most unwearied student, and the opportunity is now afforded her of prosecuting her studies with new zeal. She had been testing Dr. William IHarvey's theory of the circulation of the blood, in which the heart is made the motive power, and she soon detected its fallacy.

Page  283 MRS. EMMA WILLARD, She nlow sets herself to the more careful stu-l) of thiis iiiteresting problem. WVith all the enthusiasm of,i pa,f.si, n anatomist and physiologist, she explores thoroughlil the entire field, and the result was a work on the "Motive Powers which produce the Circulation of the Blood." This treatise, published in 1846, arrested the attention of the medical flactLilty, and won for its author the reputation of a successful discoverer. At the same time these investigations were going, on, her feeliings became deeply interested in the public schools of her native State. While on a visit to Berlin, she was asked to furnish her views on the subject of common-school education, to be submitted to the citizens of her native town asseimbled in all educational meeting. The paper she submitted showed so much wisdom, and indicated so true an interest in thle coinimon schools, that the parish, by vote, put their schools for the year under her care. Her success in managing them wYas a marvel, and the schools, thus skilfully superintended, were referred to by Mr. Barnard, then as now, a prince among educators, as witnesses to what skilful management will do for schools. And so, by study and writing, even to twelve and fourteen hours daily; by stirring up educators and schools to more skilful and earnest working, both in Connecticut and New York; by suggesting new plans and methods of teaching; by projecting normal schools before the day of normal schools had come, -this woman, thoroughly alive to all that promised to advance her race, used more diligently her years of rest than most workers do the hours of their busiest working. And if the question is raised, how could one with only a woman's strength sustain such efforts,. the answer will only lead us to still another field of her unwearied and painstaking labor. She worked for it. She studied carefully the condition and wants of her physical nature, and provided for 283

Page  284 284 EMINENT VWOMEN OF TIE AGE. both. She trained even her muscles to their healtLhfil and self-stlsttiliing work. She wishes a clear, vigorotis, lifefuli brain, and she uses the only methods she could discover that promised it. See her, early in the morning, at her honest, earliest, muscular work. And when she has entered upon the mental lal)or of the day, see her, at tfle end of each two hours through the day, resting, her toiling brain by vigorous physical exercise, until the eqtuilibrium is restored. You need not fear for her, as she drops the sash of her study window, and facing the fresh cold breeze stands there exercising the muscles of her chest until her lungs have been satisfied with their needed food, and her blood freshly potirs its hlealth-tides throughout her nowv reinlvigoratedl fi'tLme. She has nowv worked her whole system up to workling trim, and you need not wonder if, when she seats herself at her papers, she should record a thought or a theory which shall henceforth clhange and ru'le the thou,ghts and theories of men. It is really no marvel that one with such a physical and mental constitution as she inherited, with such skilful traininig as her very'necessities had imposed on her youlnger life, and with the care which her maturer years had exercised over both her body and brain, should at fifty years of age give to the world her Troy SemiLary; at sixty, her original demonstrattion on the "Motive Powers in the Circulation of the Blood;" at sixtytwo, her treatise on "Respira.tion and its Effects;" and at sixty-five, a work onl astronomy, which even the masters in the science were ready to endorse. It is no marvel, that, after having had an important part in the trainingi of niore than five thousand yotung ladies, she still found time and strength to become the teacher of the teachers of men. It is no marvel that at fifty-eight she could, in a journey of eig,ht thousand miles, traverse a continent, rejoicing everywhere equally in the joy of her pupils and in the prosperity of the schools for joung, lad'es which her influence had contributed

Page  285 MRS. EMlMIA W'ILLAILD. to found; nor that at sixty-seven she could cross the ocean, and mingle in the exercises andl clljoy thle lhonors of tlhe World's E(lueLtionnl Convention, and thence make the tour of France, Switzerland, Germany, and Belgiumt tril)utary still to her zeal for observation and learning. Buit not alone in these literary and educational workls has 3Irs. Willard used her great powers. tier religious chairacter has been also as carefully educleted, and an effective Chlristian culture has been a constant aim and triumph il her worlk. Unitin g with the Episcopal church in Burilington, she has ever since been a devout and worthy communicant. In all her study and work, her appeal has been to God's word for her standard and law. She spoke with great deliberation in her weilghty charge to those whom she would commission with the solemni trust of teachers, when she said to them, in all the seriousness of her earnest convictions: " So ftr, however, froIm depending on set times for the whole discharge of the duty of training the young to piety anid virtue, you are, during all your exercises, to regard it as the grand object of your labors." Of her active and wide-reaching benevolence the record has been a private one. Yet many and timely have been her benefictions which the ang(el has recorded on high. We klnow this much, that scores of the yotung women whlom she has aided to secure the education, whlich, without such aid, they could not have secured, are still grateful for her quick sym pathies and generous aid. It is safe to say that twenty thou sand dollars would not now make Mrs. Willard's exchequer good for these offeriings to the cause of woman's education. But we cannot ling,er longer on these lessons of her usefill and honored life. AIrs. Willard is still living, and as we might, from all we have learned of her former life, expect, her latest years are not without their rich and wortlhy fruits. The serene dignity of age well befits now the form which 28a

Page  286 286 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. forty years ago was radiant with womanly beauty. Under the shadow in her own dear seminary, she can but rejoice in this proud monument of her life. Here, surrounded with the trophies of her life-work, embosomed in the love of those whose young affections she drew to herself, and cheered by that precious religious hope which has purified her life, long may she yet enjoy with us the rewards of her long life, so nobly and worthily spent for her sex and race! MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB. Hardly less positive need we be in assigning the second place on our list of educational pioneers to the excellent and popular principal of the Ladies' Department of Oberlin College. Since 1835, she has held, in this Western institution, a place of great responsibility, and during all those years she has shown herself every way worthy the confidence she has inspired. True she has never presumed to claimn for herself any such position; yet for this very reason she is all the worthier of it. True she may not have arrested the gaze of the world, like many another woman whose life has been a glittering show, yet we shall find her to be one of those quiet and silent forces, which are noiselessly working out the most usefill and even the grandest problems of the age and rate.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i race. Who has not noticed how men and women of exceedingly defective character, and even of very limited ability, are often lifted, in spite of themselves, into notoriety, and, for a while at least, enjoy a reputation for goodness and power, for which the unthinking world do not fail to honor them? Or who has failed to see how others, of great native

Page  287 MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB. ability and of rarest excellence of character, have been so retiring and modest, or so overshadowed by showier presumers, as scarcely during their lifetime to attract our attention? Has not noisy and blaring pretence always seemed at leastto win its way more readily than highest merit? - even as the lightning's flash is more sure of wiinning your attention than the most genial sunbeam of the loveliest morning. And, still, who has not also seen how certainly Providence at length reverses all this seemnling, experience of life? IHe lifts the lowliest to the loftiest place. He makes the weakest the strongest. He confounds what men call wisdom, by establishing what they have pronounced folly. He, at length, brings worthy merit out of its obscurity into the clearest li,ght; and, over the dazzle and glory of all mere gilded radi,(nce, sooner or later spreads the pall which covers all its empty shams. And when this rectification comes, who does not see how real was the merit before undiscovered, and how exceedinglv thin and worthless the gilding which so dazzled the eye? Possibly the sketch we here attempt may justify these reflections. We shall have to speak of a character which has never courted the world's notice, yet one to which the world is certainly under no small obligation. With no brilliant display of personal charms, no parade of talents, no exciting incidents to kindle to an impassioned glow our admiration, we shall still find, at every step in our review, ample reason for the place we have assigned to one of the world's true and fatithfiil and successful workers. As a pioneer in establishiing and sustaining the fullest curriculum of studies for woman yet reached, embracing a mental discipline as severe and thorougc,h as that which has been required of young, men,especially, as pioneer in a movement which has done so much towards supplying our broad West with their great and efficient institutions for the advanced culture of woman, -she certainly deserves well of her sex and her race. Very corn 287

Page  288 288 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. petent authority, Mrs. Caroline HI. Dal], of Boston, has well characterized her fitness for the post of lady principal at Oberlin. The splendid endowment of Vassar College," she says, could not give to Oberlin a woman better suited to this purpose than Mrs. Dascornb." Let us, then, briefly trace the educational career of this gifted and successful woman. We must do this, in full klnowvleldge of two special hindrances to our attempt, - the extreme modesty of Mrs. Dascomb's character, which shrinks senlsitively from all public exhibition and criticism; and the fact that her entire educational life has been so intimately associated with that of so many other educators, so that it may be difficult to decide of any particular result, how much of it is due to her agency, or what part of it she should share with her associates. Marianne Parker, a child of Christian parents, of good New England stock, which itself was of best English puritan blood, was born in Dunbarton, N. II., in 1810. She wasthe seventh of eight children, five daughters and three sons, whom her mother, Martha Tenney, had borne to her father, William Parker. At the early age of four she became fatherless; and with a large family of children, and but a small patrimony, was left to such care and culture as her mother, who was an excellent woman, could supply. The children were therefore, of necessity, early taught the lessons of economy and mutual helpfulness. The elder memlbers of the family cheerfully fitted themselves to aid their mother in caring for the younger; and these in their turn were trained in habits of thoughtfuil and helpful industry.' It was thus that that interesting group were best disciplined and trained to lives of great usefulness. Those days of preparation were well and wisely spent. The physical and social culture then furnished was of incalculal)e value to them all. The necessities which imposed such burdens may have been trying to

Page  289 MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCO0MB. both the mother and her young charge; but its fruits in after years even until now have proved all exceeding reward. We cannlot wonder when, in later years, we find how all of thlat group have worked themselves up ilnto positions of honored usefulness, such as only earnest and intelligent workers can fill. How like the story of how many New Ellgland f.tmilies of fifty years ago it reads! Three of the sisters in due time became the wives of three ministers, and the fourth that of a professional and useful teacher. Of the brothers, the eldest, after graduating at college, I)ecame a successfiil teacher; the second, on whlom the care of the home and widowved mother fell, has done good service in the church and woild; and the third is still, as for the last qularter of a century, an approved minister of Christ. A whole family thus given to the cause of learning and religion is just the source from which we might expect a pioneer and leader, or at any rate an efficient promoter, of some needed movement in education or in ethics. And such a character we believe we have in the subject of this sketch. From the first she gave indications of possessing liarge native al)ility. To her natural inquisitiveness was added clear and quick perception, with a corresponding ftilness of the reasoning faculty; and so, under the stimulus of the home and cealy school culture which she enjoyed, she made rapid progress in acquiringi, knowledge. Nor was she deficient in such social and affectional qualities as are needed to constitute one the best and most serviceable of friends; or to give one the firmest hold on the confidence and affections of others, and so the most effcient power for good or evil over them. In early girlhood she is reported to us as " one of the best of playmaates," and in maturer years we find her as sympathetic and affectionate and persuasive as then; while to these mnerely companionable qualities she has added the power and authority of a dignified and matronly grace. 19 289

Page  290 290 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIHE AGF. Her early school education was much like that of the ma. jority of girls of that day. Speciall]]y favorable to her progress was the influence over her of Miss Chase, a sister of our present Chief Justice Chase, who was in her thirteenth year her teacher; and also that of her brother-in-law, PR,ev. Thomas Tenney, who had charge of the Ilampton Aet(leriy. After leaving the I'ampton Academy, she prosecuted her education in various schools as pupil or teacher, until, anxious to lay deeper and broader foundations for what she was coming to look upon as her future profession, -teaching, - shle entered the Ipswich Academy, then in charge of Miss Grant, one of :the ablest of our lady teachers of that day. Iere she graduated in 1833, ranking high in her class, and ready for any good service in almost any field of womanl's work which might open before her. Nor had she long to wait. She entered vith enthusiasm the first field open to her, -a school in Boscawen, New IIampshire, and was there making full proof of the wisdom of her choice of pursuits, when another call was miade upoii her. Dr. James Dascomb, a young, physician, well fitted for his profession, - a Christian gentleman, longing to find the field in -vhich he might do best service for his race,- had then just offered himself to the American Board of Commissioners for Foreiign Missions, as a missionary physician to some heathen field. While looking, forward to such service, he became acquainted with Miss Parker. IIe was not long in detecting, in the spirit and character of the young and ardent teacher, the qualities which would be most fitting for one who should be his helpmeet in such a life-work. Nor wivs she long, in reciprocating his confidence and affection. Pending, his negotiation with the American Board, Plovlclence was preparing for himl another field and service. A mnovement had been started to establish at the West a school of collegiate rank for both sexes, in which, by manual labor,

Page  291 MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB. the students could at once promote their health and contri)bute towards their support. In the forests of Northlerni Ohio a site had been found for the attempt, and the ec.rnest and large hearted nien who had projected the movement commeni ced their work, naming both -the institution and the town, of which it was to be the beginniong and life, fiom Oberlin, the Chiristian pastor and teacher,,and civilizer of the rtde peas antry of the Ban de la Roche, in Switzerlanld. In this novel movement, started in the interests of literature, religion, and humanity, the young physician was now invited to take part; and, after a consultation with MIiss Parker, they mutually and heartily accepted the post. Resigning the school she had just opened in Cainajolharie, New York, into other hands, Miss Par ker was married ia the spring of 1834; and with her husband entered at once upon the work which has never yet beenl intermitted. For thirty-four years they have wvrought to gethler on that field, apparently so forbidding,- the husband rising step by step in scholarship and professional popularity, until now, and the wife to a post of responsibility and usefulness, second, perhaps, to none in the country, which woman has )een called to fill. They have lived to see the old forest give way to an institution which more than alny other in the West has made itself a power among the noblest movements of the age. On connect;ing herself with the young college, Mrs. Dascomb was appointed the principal of the ladies' department. -Icr strengthl then proving unequal to the burdent, at the end of the y,ear she resitgned, not, however, without hlaving made fuill proof of her many admirable qualifications for the post. She was immediately transferred to the Ladies' Board of \Ianagers, where, for years, her good sense was of incalculable service to the board. In 1852 she was urged to resume the postiof principal of the ladies' department, and again, tl-ough hesitatingly, she accepted the charge. In this post 291

Page  292 292 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIHE AGE. she has remained until n()w. Her office, calliing as it dcloes for large executive and administrative ability, has been most worthily and acceptably filled. The trustees of the college are unanimous in their admiration of her signal success. They cheerfully accept her counsel, in all matters relating to her department, as law; and they never find her counsels or her plans to faiil. Under her judicious nmalnagement, and, owing to this perhaps as much as to any one agency, the college at Oberlin has practically shown the safety and wisdom of educatimg, even through the college course, the two sexes together. It has, also, proved the ability of woman to prosecute creditably all the studies of the college course, and to compete successfully with men in any field of literature. But precisely how much of the success at Oberlin has been due to any one of the agencies employed, it may be difficult to decide. There have been in the work some of the ablest mlen our country has produced. Certainly, no moreoearnest wvorkers have anywhere used to the utmost all their resources to sustain and build up any institution of the age. The enterprise, itself, was hopeless to any but a strong fitith aind resolute heart. And they who took the work in hand worked on together with good heart and hope. Its three presidents \Iahan, Finney, and Fairchild -have all done the wvork of strong and fearless men. Their associates in the Faculty, of their own sex, have worked with them, under the glow and inspiration of the same enthusiasm. Nor could the instittition have beei established and sustained without such agency. WVith it, Oberlin has attained a good rank among the literary institutions of the land. But for the successful attainment of its speciail aim, that of the co-education of the two sexes, even through the enitire college course, another style of educational ag,ency was needed. If young women were to be admitted anclarried through the course, the presence of woman would be indis 6

Page  293 -lRRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMA{B. pensable in the faculty. I1er intelligence allnd tact, llher sympathly and taste, and her quick sense of social propirieties would all be a necessity. Her control and authority would reach and regulate, as man's could not, these new college relations. Especially also, was the aid of woman needed, to secure another leading idea of the Oberlin rovement. The founders wished to organize a community, as well as estal)lish a college, - a community in thorough sympathy with their own Christian work. The town itself was to be the home for their college, and its families were to feel themselves, ill some sort, identified wvith the aims and interests of the college. It must be a community in which young men and women could be Clhristiaily educated, and from whose nlurture they should be thoroighly prepared to go forth to their own earnestly.aggressive Christian work. But to aid in organizing such a community, the presence and culture and grace of Christian women would be requisite. '\ost fortluna'te, was it, then, that, when such a movement was projected, this needed agency was not wanlting. To make no mention of other giftedcl Christian women, who were counted worthy to engage in such a work, -though such names as those of IMrs. Shipherd, and Mahlan, and Finney, and Cowles, may well claim no small share in this noble enterprise, -it was peculiarly providential that such a woman as MArs. Dascomb was tlhen ready, both in literary attainment, and in every most nleeded social quality, to give herself to the work. And it is not sayilig too much that she was ready also for the consecration. Without reservation she entered the service, which, with no abatement of zeal, she has pursued and lhonored until now. Nor is it claiming too much to say that her reward has beein great. Of about five hundred young ladies who are aniiual'y under her instruction or influence, very few can be 293

Page  294 294 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. found who do not regard her with a feeling akin to filial affection. Of the thousands who have gone out from Ol)erlin, of both sexes, we have but one uniform testimony to the high esteem with which they re,gard her. Iher associates in the work tell us the same story of their dependence upon her, and their great indebtedness to her influence. Nor is it difficult to detect the secret of her power. It lies both in her temperament and character. She is lifeful and cheerfiul. She shows good sense and judgment. She abounds inll hopefulness, which gives her confidence and courage. She has no mnisgivings lest duty should prove inexpedient; and so her faith in the results of duty never fails her. She is self-sacirificing, - doing cheerfully for others, what she would gladly be excused firom doingy on her own account. She is conscientious, anxious only to do the right thing herself, and solicitous only to aid others in seeing what is right, and doing it. One of the most sensitively (gentle of women, she has still the firmest strength of will, holding herself and hlolding others, as by inevitable law, to truth and duty. She could not compromise principle, though a world were to be won. With her the first question and the last is, not, Will it pay? not, Is it fashionable? not, Will it please the world? but, Is it right? She has the courage to face sneers and ldangler even, if in the path of duty. In the day when to befi'iend a fugitive negro was to arouse a storm of popular rag,e and vengeance, she never hesitated to recognize the fugitive's claim. She acknowledged no misnamed patriotism, which required her to prove faithless to the plain call of humanity. Higher than all human enactments, she held and holds the claims and the law of the only God. And so, by her gentle and patient kindness; by her fervent zeal in duty; by her disinterested love and service for others; by her uncomrnpromisiIng devotion to what is true and iright, -she has made for herself a place of power in the com

Page  295 MRS MARIANNE P. DASCOMB. munity where she has lived, and especially ill the hearts and minds she has aided in educatiing for the service of the church and world. And still, as for so many years, she is prosectiting the same good work, with the same success. Without denying, the claims of her own famnily and home, - in which she has reared to womanhood the two adopted, the only children given to her to rear, -she is still laboriously employed in the duties of her great charge at the college. In her daily work of personal interview and consultation with pupils and teachers, and the matrons of the homes in which the pupils reside; in assigning daily exercises and studies; in fitmiliar lectures to the young ladies on all topics, outside of the general course of instruction in the classes, on which they need instruction and advice,- MIrs. Dascomb is still adding to the reputation she has already won, as a woman of emiinent ability and service. But, pre-eminently, her best record is yet to be written. It must be traced in the career of the many gifted young women whom she has aided ill fitting for service, good and great, like her own. Their success, when its causes are fully known, will add new lustre to the crown, which she now so unconsciously wears. 295

Page  296 296 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. BY REV. E. P. PARKER. HARRIET BEECHER, daughter of Rev. Lyman Beecher, D.D., was born in the town of Litchfield, ill the State of Connecticut, on the 14th day of June, in the year of our Lord 1812. Her father, than whom no man of his generation is more reverently and affectionately remembered, was one of the sturdiest and grandest men that New England has produced. Among American divines his position as a theologian was one of distinction, and as a pulpit orator he stood full abreast with the most eloquent. There have been no more powerful preachers in our country than he. In the year 1799 he married Roxana Foote, whose father, Eli Foote, was a genial and cultivated man, and, notwithstanding he was a royalist and churchman, was universally respected and honored. She was also the grand-daughter of General Ward, who served under Washling,ton in the Revolutionary war. This union was blessed with eight children: - Catharine, William, Edward, Mary, George, Harriet, Henry Ward, and Charles. Dr. Beecher had sworn never to marry a weak woman; nor, in marrying Roxana Foote, did he forswear himself. Ill one of the Mayflower sketches, in the character of Aunt Mary, and later, in a letter contributed to the "Autobiography of Lyman Beecher" (vol. I., page 301), Mrs. Stowe herself describes her

Page  297 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. mother. She was a woman of extraordinary talents, rare culture, fine taste, sweet and gentle temper; fill of the Holy Ghost and of that power which comes not with observationi, but whose exercise is alike unconscious and irresistible. She died when Harriet was not quite four years old, but her memory and example had more influence in moulding her falmily, in deterring from evil and exciting to good, than the living presence of many mothers." Slrs. Stowe relates that when, in her eighthl year, she lay dangeroutsly ill of scarlet fever, she was awakened one evening just at sunset by-the voice of her father praying, at her bedside, and heard him speaking of "her blessed mother, who is a saint in heaven!" The passage in Uncele Tom, where St. Clair describes his mother's influence, is simply a reproduction of the influence of Mrs. Stowe's own mother, as it had always been in her famnily. All who have read the "Miinister's Wooing " must remember the beautiful letter which Mary wrote to the Doctor. That letter is one which, years before, Mrs. Beecher had written, and was copied by Mrs..Stowe into the pages of her story. Immediately after her mother's death, Harriet was taken to live with her mother's sister, in whose well-ordered house the little girl found a happy home, the tenderest care, and the benefits of an unusually wholesome moral discipline and intellectual companionship. Her mother had been a quiet but devout churchwoman who, at her marriage with Dr. Beecher, conformed herself to the simpler manners of the Co(ngregational churches, and bent her steps to the ways in which her husband walked, but not without cherishing an ineradicable love of the better way in which her faithers walked and worshipped. Somnething, of this feeling Harriet may have inherited. IHaving had such a mother, she found herself, in the circle of her mother's relatives, surrounded by those who .297

Page  298 298 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. believed in the Church, and walked after its ordinances only, with all their hearts. Nor is it iunlikelythat these facts furnish a sufficient explanation of that preferelice for the mode of divine worship which obtains in the Episcopalian Church, which, in these later years, Mrs. Stowe has publicly maui fested. Of her pleasant life in the farm-house at Nutplailns; of the good old grandma with bright white hair, who took her the little motherless - into her arms, and held her close, and wept over her; who read the evening service, after supper, from a great prayer-book, with such impressiveness as touched the child's heart with a feeling of its intrinsic simplicity and beauty which she never outgrew; and who also, ill the sincerity of her toryism, often read over, with trembling voice, the old prayers for king, queen, and royal family, grieving that they should have been omitted in all the churches; of her energetic, precise, smart, orderly Aunt Harriet, who was one of the women who contrive to bring all their plans to pass and to have their ways perfectly, - a splendid specimen of the best kind of a genuine Yankee woman, believing in the Church with a faith in which disdain of all MIeeting-house religion was so far mingled that, when on a visit to Litchfield, she could not bring herself to listen to Dr. Beecher, of whom she was very proud and fond, but must needs go to Church, where all things were "done decently and in order," -who did more than encourage little Harriet to "move gently, to speak softly and prettily, to say'yes, ma'am' and'no, ma'am,"' to keep her clothes clean, and knit and sew at regular hours, to go to Church on Sundays and make all the responses, and come home and be thoroughly drilled in the catechism; of her Uncle George who wvas a great reader, and full of poetry, and had Burns and Scott at his tongue's end, and whose recitations of Scott's ballads were tile first poems she ever heard; of the house stored with all manner

Page  299 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. of family relics, and also with all manner of strange and wonderful thilngs brought by a sea-fitring uncle, from the uttermost parts of the earth, - supplied moreover with whliat were exceedingly rare things in those days, a well-selected library, and a portfolio of fine engravings, -of all these things Mrs. Stowe tells us in one of her pleasantest letters, and adds, "The little white farm-house under the hill was a Paradise to us, and the sight of its chimneys after a day's ride was like a vision of Eden!" Nearly two years passed by, and Harriet, now ag,ain in her fither's house, wonders at "a beautiful lady, very fair, with bright-blue eyes, and soft auburn hair," who comes into the nursery where she with her younger'brothers are in bed, and kisses them, and tells them she loves them and will be their mother. This fair stralnger was Dr. Beecher's second wife, Harriet Porter, of Portland, Maine; and of little Harriet she writes to her friends very handsomely: "Harriet and Henlry .... are as lovely children as I ever saw, amiable, affectionate, and very bright." She speaks also of "the great familiarity and great respect subsisting between parent and childrlen," and of the household as " one of great cheerfulness and comfort." "Our domestic worship is very delightful. We sing a good deal, and have reading aloud as much as we can. It seems the highest happiness of the children to have a reading circle." These observations afford us glimpses of that inner domestic life amid whose healthful and qutickening influences Mrs. Stowe's child-life developed itself. Her sister Catharine writes of her when she was five years of age: Itarriet is a very good girl. She has been to school all this summer, and has learned to read very fluently. She has committed to memory twenty-seven hymns and two long chapters in the Bible. She has a remarkably retentive memory, and will make a good scholar." She very early manifested a great eagerness for books, and "read everything she could lay 299

Page  300 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. hands on." eI-Ir young mind drank e.agerly at every available literary spring, and such was the inspiration-of Dr. Beechler's presence among his children, that they daily lived and breathed in a bracing intellectual atmosphere, and their wits were kept constantly in exercise. One incident from Mrs. Stowe's "Early Remenmbrances" of Litchfield well illustrates his "inspiring talent," and not only that, but the unusual degree of intellectual activity which characterized the whole domestic life. One of the famous occasions in the course of the year was the applecuttingr season, in the autumn, when a barrel of cider applesauce had to be made. "The work was done ill the kitchen, -all immense brass kettle hangOing over the deep fireplace, a bright fire blazing and snapping, and all hands, children and servants, employed on the full baskets of apples and quinces which stood around. I have the image of my father still, as he sat working the apple-peeler. Come, George,' he said,'I'll tell you what we'll do to make the evening go off. You and I'll take turns, and see who'll tell the most out of Scott's novels'! And so they took them, novel by novel, reciting scenes and incidents, which kept the eyes of the children wide open, and made the work go on without flagg,,ing." Dr. Beecher was very fond, too, of setting all manner of discussions on foot, into which he would draw the children, arguing with them, correcting them in their logical slips, and so not only putting them in the way of acquiring new knowledge, but what was far better, arolisilng their minds, sharpening their wits, and teaching, them lhowv to think and reason. Allusion has been made to HIarriiet's eagerness to read. But the light literature which, in our days, is to be found in such abundance even in parsonages, to say nothing, of Sunday-school libraries, was wanting in her father's library, and she was hardly ready to satisfy her hunger as one young lady Qf our acquaintance once attempted to do, by 300

Page  301 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. beginning at one end of the library and reading it throdgh, book by book. She had found, aindfor a while had revelled in, a copy of the "Arabian Nights;" and afterward, ill her desperate search among sermons, tracts, treatises, and essays, she turned up a dissertation or commentary on Solomon's Song,, which she read with avidity, "because it told about the same sort of things she had read of in the " Arabian Nights." She was again rewarded for her several hours' toil in what she calls "a weltering ocean of pamphlets," by bringing to light a fragment of "Don Quixote," which seemed to her like an enchanted island rising out of an ocean of mud"! This was the time when the names of Scott, Byron, Moore, and Irving were comparatively new, and yet not so new as not to be in the mouths of all intelligent people. The Salmagundi papers were recent publications. Byron had not quite finished his course. Scott had written his best poems, and the " Lay of the Last Minstrel," and "Marmion," were familiar to people of intelligence, the world over; but the "Tales of my Landlord," and Ivanhoe," had just made their appearance. Now the novel, in those days, was regarded, by all pious people at least, as an unclean thing. It was not tolerated, and, indeed, it had become really unclean and intolerable in the hands of the previous generation of writers of fiction. Great was the joy in that household when an exception was madle to the prohibitory law under which all works of fiction were excluded from well-ordered households, as only so much trash and abomination, and Dr. Beecher said, "George, you may read Scott's novels. I have always dclisapproved of novels as trash, but in these are real genius and real culture, and you may read them"! This generous license was improved, for in one summer Harriet and George " went through'Ivanhoe' seven times," so that they could recite several of the scenes from beginning to end! In the next house to the one in which Dr. Beecher lived, and but a few 301

Page  302 302 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. steps distant, dwelt "Aunt Esther," - a woman of strong mind, ready wit, and large information, to whose keen criticism Dr. Beecher frequently submitted his sermons and articles, and whose geniality and inexhaustible fund of enter tailliol ilnformation made her room a favorite resort of the children. From her halnds IHarriet one day received a volume of Byron's poems contaillning the "Corsair." This she read with wonder and delight, and thenceforth listened eagerly to whatever was said in the house concerniing Byron. Not long after, she heard her father say sorrowfully, "Byron is dead, -gone" "I remember," she says, "taking my basket for strawberries that afternoon, and going over to a straw berry field on Chestnut Ijill. But I was too dispirited to do anything; so I lay down among the daisies, and looked up into the blue sky, and thought of that great eternity into which Byron had entered, and wondered how it migh,lt be with his soul"! Ilarriet was then eleven years old, but was sufficiently precocious to appreciate the genius that was exhibited in Byron's passionate poetry, and to share in the enthusiasm which that genius has everywhere created. Tot only iii her father's house, and in the fitmily circle, but in the society and schools of Litchfield as well, was her mind enriched and stimulated to independent thoughlt. The town of Litchfield was celebrated in those days for the unusual number of cultivated, scholarly, and professional men who resided there, and for the hig,h literary character of its society. "A delightful village, on a fruitful hill, richly endowed with schools both professional and scientific, with its vencrable governors and judges, with its learned lawyers, and senators, and representatives both in the national and state departmenits, and with a population cnlilghtened and respectable, Litchfield," says MIrs. Stowe, was now in its glory." The high reputation of Miss Pierce's school for young, ladies brougbt a goodly number of fair women into the town,

Page  303 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. while the excellent law-school of Judge Reeve attracted thither brave young men from all quarters. Miss Catharine Beecher relates that when Mrs. Stowe was at Paris, she was repeatedly visited ly an aged French gentleman of distinction, who in youth had spent some years in L itchfield as a studrit at the law school, and, in his conversationis with Mrs. St ewe, he frequently referred to, and dwelt with entlhusiasm lipon, the society of Litchfield, which he declared was the most charming ill the world. In such a home, and in such a society, Harriet Beecher passed the first twelve years of her life. She was a pupil in the school taught by Miss Pierce and Mr. Brace. Of Mr. Brace, Mrs. Stowe speaks in terms of the hi,ghest praise, as a gentleman of wide illformation, well-read in the English classics, of sintgular conversational powers, and a most stimulating and inspiring instructor." Her own simpler lessons were neglected and forgotten as she sat listening intently, hour after hour, to the recitations of the older classes, and to the conversations of Mr. Brace with them, in moral philosophy, rhetoric, anld history. In this school particular attention was given to the writing of compositions. An ambition was kindled in the minds of the scholars to excel in this exercise. Harriet was but nine y-ars old, when, roused by Mr. Brace's inspiration, she volunteered to write a con)mposition every week. The theme for the first weekl was sufficiently formidable, -The Difference between the Nitural and the MIoral Sublime. But so great was the interest which the preparatory discussions had awakened in her mind, tlhat she found herself in labor with the subject, felt sure that she had some clear distinctions in mind, and, altlhoughtil she could hardly write legibly or spell correctly, I)rouglt foirthl her first composition upon that question. Persevering in hcer efforts, Bhe was soon publicly commended for her progress. and twu .'D" 0 3

Page  304 304 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. years later received the honor of an appointment to be one of the writers at the annual exhibition of the school. On that distinguished occasion she argued the negative of the following question: Can the Immortality of the Soul be proved by the Light of Nature? We may smile at the idea of an argument on such a topic by a girl i her twelfth year, but she shall describe the scene of her first public triumph: "I remember the scene at that exhibition, - to me so eventful. The hall was crowded with the literati of Litchfield. Before them all our compositions were read aloud. WVhen mine was read, I noticed that father, who was sitting on high by Mr. Brace, brilghtened and looked interested; and, at the close, I heard him say,' Who wrote that composition?''Your daughter, sir!' was the answer. It was the proudest moment of my life." The conditions and circumstances of Mrs. Stowe's early life, the scenes and surroundings of her childhood, and the nature of that domestic and social life in which her own life was rooted, and from which some, at least, of its peculiar qualities must have been derived, deserve a much more carefill and complete representation than the limits of this sketch will allowv; for they reveal where and how the solid fouildations of her future fame were laid, and by what subtile but potent influences her intellectual powers were quickened, her character moulded, and her whole history happily predetermined in its course of development. At about twelve years of age, Harriet went to Ilaitford, where her sister Catharine had opened a school for yoing ladies. She was one of a brilliant class which numbered among its members several ladies whose names are well and widely known. She was known as an absent-minded, introspective, reticent, and somewhat moody young lady, odd in

Page  305 HIARRIET BEECHER STOWE. her manners and habits, but a fine scholar, a great reader, and exceedingly clever in her compositions, vwhethler of poetry or of prose. Even then she displayed something of that fondness and aptitude for delineating the peculiarities of New Englan-d manners and character, for which, in later years, both she and her brother Henry Ward have been distinguished. Children of New England, born and reared under its clearest skies, and amid its loveliest scenes, perfectly famili.tr with every phase of its social life, full of its native spirit of independence,- whose home, also, and family relations were such as were sufficient to inspire them with an ardent enthusiasm for the land of their fathers, they have revelled in charming, reminiscences and descriptions of it; and have never written more graphically, and as if under a genuine inspiration, than in those pages of the "Mayflower," of "The Minister's Wooing,," of "The Pearl of Orr's Island," and of "Norwood," where they have led their readers to and fro over its peaceful hills, and among its peculiar people of long ago. For a season harriet was an associate teacher ill the Hartford Seminary; but, on the failure of Miss Beecher's health, both she and her sister sought rest in their father's house, which, since the year 1832, had been located in the environs of Cincinnati. Here, also, after a brief respite, they opened a school, of which - and particularly of the religious influence of which, and of a Bible class in Old Testament history which Harriet Beecher conducted- we have heard one of the pupils speak in terms of high praise. MIiss Beecher at length gave herself up to the organization of larger educational enterprises, -to the furtherance of which her whole life has been nobly devoted. And on the 5th day of January, in the year 1836, Harriet married Professor Calvin E. Stowe, a man of learning and distinction, and, at 20 305 I

Page  306 306 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. that time, Professor of Biblical Literature in Lane Theological Seminary. For several years previous to her marriage, however, Mrs. Stowe had occasionally made her appearance, both in private circles and in the periodical literature of the day, as a writer of no little promise. Some of her productions of that period have not yet passed out of public notice. It now becomes necessary to refer to certain literary associations into which Mrs. Stowe was happily drawn, and which had no little influence in awakening in her a consciousness of her powers, and filrnished her with opportunities, motives, and encouragements to make trial of those powers. Out of the good fellowship which prevailed among many of the literary men and women of that vicinity,- a fellowship which was fostered by the hospitality of several gentlemen of culture and property,- a remarkable series of social and literary reunions were established under the name of the " Semicolon Club." At the meetings of the club, which were under just enough of regulation to prevent confusion and dissipation of time, without hindering perfect freedom of discussion dnd intercourse, essays, sketches, reviews, stories, and poems were read, discussions and conversations were carried on, and music came in to enliven and diversify the exercises. Many of those who were accustomed to participate in these reunions have since distinguished themselves in their respective vocations. Among these we may mention Judge Hall, editor of the " Western Monthly Magazine," and a critic of no little reputation; Miss Catharine Beecher, and her sister Harriet; Prof. IHentz and his wife, Caroline Lee Hentz, a novelist of popularity, and a woman of distingutished grace; E. P. Crauch, whose exquisite humor flowed from either pen or pencil with equal facility; James I1. Perkins, a man of extraordinary talents; Col. E. D. Mansfield;

Page  307 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Prof. J. W. Ward; Charles W. Elliot, the New England historian; Daniel Drake, a medical professor and author of celebrity; William Greene; three Misses Blackwell, two of whom have gained distinction as physicians; Prof. C. E. Stowe, widely known, both in Europe and America, as a scholar and author; and Professor, and subsequently MajorGeneral 0. M. Mitchell, whom the nation remembers as one of its most accomplished scientific men, and mourns as one of its noblest martyrs in the cause of liberty. In this brilliant circle Mrs. Stowe's genius soon began to shine conspicuously. Some of her contril)utions to these reunions were received with unaffected wonder and delight. The portraiture of old Father Mills, of Torringford, Conn., which appears in the "Mayflower" under the title of " Father Morris," was greeted with uproarious applause. But her "Uncle Tim," written in 1834 for the "Semicolon Cltub," and read at one of its sessions, made the deepest impression. And this same sketch, which is still one of the most charming and characteristic productions of her pen, published first in Judge Hall's Magazine, and afterward in the "MIayflower," first attracted public attention to her as a writer of great versatility and promise. In this "Semicolon Club" the woman of genius seems to have first become really conscious of her powers; in it she received also recognition, sympathy, and an impulse, and-l)y it found a way for herself out beyond the circle of private fellowships into the wider circles of the great world. Mieanwhile she was an occasional contributor to the AVestern Magazine, to Godey's Magazine, and perchance. to other periodicals. And not loing after her mairi.,ge the "MIay flower" was published, which contained, beside some of the best of her "Semicolon" papers, several new sketches of New England life and character. Thenceforward her life flowed on in purely domestic channels for several years, with 307

Page  308 308 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. out puttiing forth any decided signs of its future fruitfilness. And now we are brought to the threshold of that great arena on which her mightiest works were done, and her great triumph was achieved, while the whole world looked onl andl applauded. Uneventful as the next few years of her life seemed then to be, they were years of peculiar trial and dcliscipline, wherein God himself was secretly preparing and furnishing her for the fulfilment of his great purposes. She had always felt a deep interest in the slaves, and, whenever opportunities occurred, had always manifested a practical benevolence towards them. By journeys into the adljoining State of K~entuckly, by visits at the homes of her pupils from that State, she had made herself perfectly familiar with the different aspects of plantation life. For years she had enjoyed and improved excellent opportunities of studyiing the negro character, and also the operations of the slavery system. Fearfuil examples of the evils and miseries, of the unspeakable wrongs and crimes and shames of slavery, were ever and anon laid at her very door. She was at the very point where the great anti-slavery conflict rag,ed most fiercely, -in the midst of the border warfare of abolitionism. Fugitive slaves were frequently concealed in her house. Children of filgitives were harbored and instructed there. Hard by was the AValnut Hills under-ground railroad, of which her husband had the credit of being an active director. One day ler two little children were going to the barn to play. The elder, to figihten his sister into some submission, cried, "The black man will catch you!" whereupon four burly fugitives, who were resting and hiding in the hay till nighltfill, thinking themselves discovered, started up and ran away, to the inlfinite terror of both children. Sometimes quite a family would be secreted in the house, and the great difficulty, says Prof. Stowe, "was to keep the little pickaninnies from sticking

Page  309 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. their heads out of the windows, and so betrayilng their retreat." Often at dead of night the rattle of wagonls bearing escaped slaves onward to the land of promise, and afterwards the ominous tramp of hard-ridden horses were heard, telling of rapid flight and hot pursuit. The actual spiriting away from her pursuers of a poor colored girl by Mrs. Stowe's husband and her brother Charles, who, trusting first to God, and secondly to a sagacious old black horse, carried the fugitive away under cover of a starless night and over a perilous road to a place of safety in honest old Van Zandt's cabin, needed only a little disguising in the description to fit it for the pages of "Uncle Tom." Amid all the anti-slavery discussions and tumults,amid all the excitements and outrages and sufferings of which she had personal knowledge, and when mob-violence threatened the safety of the roof that sheltered her, Mrs. Stowe manifested no unusual intensity of feeling on the subject. Amid the earnest voices that argued and described and denounced the iniquities of slavery her voice was not heard. She was a silent but close observer of passing events. Materials for her future work were unconsciously accumulating as she watched, and waited, and hoped, and prayed. The seminary in which her husband was a prominent instructor became at length the scene of a paiinful and disastrous struggle between the two great forces of the ag,e. Conservatism triumphed, but in its blind zeal pulled down some of the strongest columns on which the institution rested. The seminary was seriously crippled, and, after protracted labors to restore its prosperity, finding his health failil-g, Prof. Stowe retired to accept a professorship in Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Maine, and in the year 1850 he entered upon his duties there. Just at this time the ftigitive slave lLaw was passed, and Mrs. Stowe was one of those whose souls were 309

Page  310 310 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. kindled with indi(gnationl at this irfiamouts piece of legislation. In the light of that political act which converted the people of a great and free nation into so many compulsory negrocatchers, she saw clearly that the policy of inaction was no long,er right nor safe, and that slavery was an insatiable monster that threatened not.simply the dishonor, but the utter ruin, of the country. One single, definite purpose arose out of her deep convictions, and rook possession of her mind. The whole system of slavery must be shown up as it really was! This simple and all-controlling conviction was the cornerstone of Uncle Tom's Cabin"! Airs. Stowe herself says: For- many years the author avoided all reading upon, and all allusion to, the subject of slavery, considering it too p,ainful to be inquired into, and one which advancing light and civilization would certainly live down. But since the act of 1850, when she heard with consternation Christian and humane people actually recomimeniding the remnlding escaped fugitives into slavery, as a duty binding on all good citizens; when she heard, on all sides, firom kind, compassionate, and estimable people, in the free States of the North, deliberations and discussions as to wlat Christian duty could be on this head, she could only think, t/ese men and Chiristians do 0not know w/zat slavery is; and from that arose a desire to ex7tibit it in a living, dramatic realitb "I Mrs. Stowe had, then, a perfectly clear idea of what was necessary to be done, and also a just appreciation of the most effective literary instruments and the best artistic methods for the accomplishment of the work. But as yet there was no definite plan of proceeding,. Indeed, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was not so much put togethei and built up, like a house, according to a complete, pre

Page  311 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. existent desilgn, as developed, like a tree, from one high, holy, and controlling idea. Topsy's solution of the problem of her own personal existence is the most satisfactory explanation of the production of this story. It grew! While as yet the form and plan of the work lay undeveloped in her mind, she made a beginning, which, instead of a beginning, was a stroke at the vei'y heart of her whole story. One day, on entering his wife's room in Brunswick, Prof. Stowe saw several sheets of paper lying loosely here and there, which were covered with her hanldwriting. Ile took them up in curiosity and read them. The death of Uncle Toil was what he read. That was first written, and it was all that had then been written. "-You can make sonmething out of this," said he. "I mean to do so," was the reply. Soon after, Mr. Bailey, who was then publishing an antislavery paper in Washington, solicited Mrs. Stowe to write a series of articles for its columns. The way was open, and she was ready, and, being called of God, by faith she went forth, not knlowiing whither she went! Her ULzcle Tome should have a history, of which his death-scene should be the logical consequence and culminationl. As she mlused the fire burned. The true starting-point was readily found, and gradually a most felicitous story-form was conceived, in which a picture of slavery as it is mighlt be exhibited, -a web was laid, into which she mighlt weave, with threads of gold and silver and purple, her brave designs. "Uncle Tom" began to be published in the " National Era," as a serial, in the summer of 1851, and was continued from week to week until its conclusion in March, 1852. It was not a product of leisure hours. She "Wrought with a sad sincerity," and under most grievous burdens and disadvantages. Her 311

Page  312 312 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. health was delicate. Her cares were great. In chlarg,e of a large family, and compelled by the sternest of all necessities to make tlhe most of very little and poor help in her house. hold labors, much of this wonderful book was actually writ ten by Mrs. S,towe, as she sat, with her portfolio uipon her knee, 5y the kitchen fire, in moments snatched fiom her domestic cares. We may be pardoned for s.lyilig that if the cuisine was half as well managed as the compositioln, those who sat at MAirs. Stowe's table, as well as those other inlU minerable ones who have feasted upon the fruits of her literary toil, were fortunate indeed. "The book," as Prof. Stowe finely says, "was written in sorrow, in sadness, and obscurity, with no expectation of reward save in the )prayers of the poor, and with a heart almost broken in view of the suffer ing,s which it described, and the still greater sufferings which it dared not describe." Our older readers need not to be told with what avidity the weekly instalmnents of this serial were caught up and devoured by the readers of the " National Era." The writer of this article was then a little boy in one of the remoter villages of Maine, but remembers how " Uncle Tomu's Cablin" was the theme of universal discussion, and how those in his own home, and all throtigh the village too, who, had never before bowed down to any idols of fiction, nor served them, were so completely demoralized by this novel, that they not only read it, but read it to their children; and how the papers which contained it, after being nearly worn out in goiong through so many hands in so many different homes, were as carefully folded up and laid away as if the tear-stains on them were sacred, as indeed they were. We were all, from the baby upward, converted into the most earnest kind of abolitionists. Strangely enough, however, when, after its publication in the '"Era," Mrs. Stowe proposed its republication in book-form to Messrs. Phillips and Sampson of Boston, the proposition was

Page  313 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. respectfiully declined. That, she thought, was the end of it. A woman's shrewdness had something to do with securing its publication. The wife of Mr. Jewett, of Boston, had read the story, and advised her husband to publish it, if possible. It was offered to him, and he remarked to Prof. Stowe that it would bring his wife "somethling handsome!" On returning home, his success and the remark of Mr. Jewett were reported to Mrs. Stowe, who, with an eye-twinlkle, and a tone ill which a little hope, more joy, and still more illcredulity were expressed, replied, that she hoped it would bring her enough to purchase what she had not possessed for a lolng time, - a new silk dress! She was not obliged to wait long for that very desirable article, nor to limit herself very rigidly in the gratification of so legitimate a desire; for only a few months after its republication, Mr. Jewett made his first settlement with Prof. Stowe, and placed the sum of ten thousand dollars in his hands; " More money," says the professor, "than I had ever seen in my life!" Larg,e as were these first firuits, and enormous as was the sale of the book, for some reasons which do not require to be set forth here, the enterprise was far more remunerative to the publishers than to the author, and Mrs. Stowe was not made rich by her story. The popularity of the book was unbounded, and its circulation was unprecedented. No work of fiction in the En)glishl languag,e was ever so widely sold. Within six months, over one hundred and fifty thousand copies were sold in America, and within a few years it reached a sale of nearly five hundred thousand copies. The first London edition was published in May, 1852. The next September, the pul)lishers furnished to one house alone, ten thousand copies each day for four weeks; making a sale of two hundred and forty thousand copies in one month. Before the end of the year 1852, the book had been translated into the Spanish, Italian, French, Danish, Swedish, 313

Page  314 314 EMINENT WOMEN OF TJIE AGE. Dutch, Flemish, German,,Polish, and Mag,yarlanguages. Ere long it was translated into every European lllLguage, and also into Arabic and Armenian. There is a bookcase in the British Museum, filled with its various translations, editions, and versions. Ill Italy, the " powers that be" published an edition in which all allusionsto Christ were changed to theVirgin Mary, — a piece of craftiness that argues better for the book than for its mutilators. But remarkable as was the literary popularity of the book, its political and moral influence was hardly less so. Said Lord Palmerston to one from whose lips the remark was taken as it here stands, " I have not read a novel for thirty years; but I have read that book three times, not only for the story, but for the statesmanship of it!" Lord Cockburn said, " She has dclone more for humanity than was ever before accomplished by any siangle book of fiction." No political pamphlet or discussion directed against the Fugitive Slave Law could have dealt that sacred iniquity so deadly a blow as did this book. Not only the reading, but the acting of Uncle Tom," - and particularly the thrilling scene of Eliza's passage of the Ohio River, - in New York, for oneo hundred and fifty successful nights, operated mightily to awaken popular sympathy for the fugitive, and to make negro-hunting contemptible. The friends of slavery instinctively felt the danger, and arose in all their wrath and cunnilg to hinder the operation of the power that was going forth in that book among all people. They ridiculed its pretensions, denied its statements, abused the author as a malevolent caricaturist and wilful disturber of the peace; and, reinforced by timeservers from the North, among whom many Doctors of Divinity were not ashamed to be seen, they went forth, a great multitude, terrible with banners and eager for the labor, armed and equipped also with brooms, and mops, and sundry other such suitable implements, to sweep back from all our

Page  315 HARRPET BEECHER STOWaE. coasts the rising tide of abolitionism, to which Mrs. Stlowe's book had given such an irresistible impulse. Eveirywhere there was heard the noise of endless splashingis, and an infinite confusion, but the tide had its way, - the same tide, which, a few years later, broke over all barriers, swept over the whole country, and washed it clean of its old defilement and curse. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was the hollnored instrument of that new and noble impulse which was given t~ public opinion and feeling throughout all Christendom against the infamous slavery system. It was all indirect but most powerful cause of the great political revolution which soon after culminated in the organization of the great anti-slavery party of the country, at whose triumph, slavery, in the recklessness of its wrath, and in the hatughtiness of its pride, rose up in rebellion, only to be utterly cast down and destroyed. MIrs. Stowe was violently assailed as the author of all anti-Christian book, and as herself an infidel disorganizer and agitator; and even religious newspapers joined in the assault. True, he gospel brought not peace but a sword, because it was the oldl Gospel of Jesus Christ! She was an agitator, as are the great winds that blow all abroad, and give us a pure atmosphere to breathe; - as every power is, whether it be of earth or of heaven. But she was an agitator, not like the woman of heathen fable, who flung the apple of discord down into an harmonious company, so wantonly provoking strife; but like that other woman of Christian parable, who took a little leaven iand hid it in three measures of meal until the whole was leavened. Aside from its political influence, "Uncle Tom" was a mighty power in the world as a witness for Christ, and was no less a contribution to the cause of Christianity than to the cause of emancipation and to American literature. One peculiarity of it is, that the inevitable pair of lovers, the history of whose crooked love-courses forms the staple of most novel writing, are hardly to be found in it. It is a picture of social life, in 31 ma'

Page  316 .316 EMINENT WOMIIEN OF'HE AGE. which the development of individual fortunes and thle history of personal relations are included, but subordinated. Again, it conftltedl the oft-repeated caltumniy, that none but infidels, and lawless, godless people, were abolitionists. On every page of " VIncle Tom," there are the breathingis of a tender, earnest piety, and the manifestations of an ardent loyalty to the Christian faith. What wonderful use of the Scriptures is made in it! Mrs. Stowe's quiver is fulll of arrows, drawn from the word of God, not one of which fiils her. Not only with the facility of perfect acquaintance, but with equal felicity and legitimacy, she quotes and applies the Scriptures to prove, or illustrate, or emphasize her positions. In Paris, the reading of " Uncle Tom" created a great demand among- the people for Bibles; and purchasers eag,erly inquired if they were buying the real Bible- LSTcle 7b'oii's Bible! The same result was produced in Belgium, and elsewhere. Could the most eloquent preacher do better than this? What more triumphant vindication of its Christian character and influence could the book have than these ftcts furnish? It was a perfectly natural, thoroughly honest, truly religious story, with nothing unwholesome in its marvellous fitscinations, but contrariwise, fairly thlrobbing in every part with a genuine Christian feeling. No wonder that ministers, and deacons, and quiet Quakers too, and all the godly folk who had always been accustomed to frown with holy horror upon novels, did unbend themselves to read. and diligently to circulatte the words of this woman whom the Lord had so evidently anointed to "preach deliverance unto the captives, to set at lib)erty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord." To search out the causes of this remarkable literary success would take us too far, in several directions, from the main road in which this sketch must travel. To meet a great popular necessity, to serve the cause of truth and humanity in a

Page  317 HIIARRIET BEECHER STOWE. time when good men's minds were darkened, and when the powers of evil were coming ill upon the nation like at flood, a story was written. The writer thoroughly understood her subject; was perfect mIaster of the literary instruments she employed; was a Christian woman of genius, and not only brought all the powers of a splendid intelle(t to the task, but poured out her whole heart in the work. This book was written, as we have said, "in sorrow, ill sadness, in obscurity, and with the htea?r al2ost b67oken in view of the sufferings it describes!" Here, surely, is one secret of its power. David long ag(o revealed it. "Ile that goeth forth, weepilig,, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless return again with songs, blringil)g his sheaves with him." So she went forth, and so returned. Charles Dickens said, " A noble book w?ith a noble purpose!" In "Uncle Tom" we have a charming story, and an unanswerable argument. And the artistic idea, and the moral purpose are coordinately developed and finally fulfilled in perfect harmony. With no other theme, even had it been treated with eqlal ability, would Mrs. Stowe have attained equal success. On the other hand, the subject of slavery could never have comminded the attention of the world as this book has done, had it been treated in somne undramatic miethod and withl less artistic skill. There is a tremendous moremeit (argumenet is too cold a word) in the book which, to one who only suffers himself to be once caught in it, is perfectly flscinalting and irresistible. And such is the consummate art by which this movement is set on foot, and guided, and led on, that all the while one is being swept along by it, whether or no, his keenest interest is awakened in every change of scene and circumstance, and in every one of the many persons with whom he is made acquaintedl. Great statesmen like Mr. Seward and Mr. Sumner had argued the question of slavery. ~ 317 0

Page  318 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Ablle divines had given the testimony of the Scriptures upon it. Eloquent platform orators, and vigorous writers had discussed all its aspects and relations. And still a mist of romance, and an atmosphere of sanctity, or at least of privilege, enveloped and concealed its real features. Mrs. Stowe treated the subject, not as a question of law, or of logic, or of political economy, or of biblical interpretation, but as a simple question of humanity; not as an "abstract theory of social relations, but as a concrete reality of human life." She does not tell, but shows us what it is. She does not analyze, or demonstrate, or describe, but, by a skilful manner of indirection, takes us over the plantation, into the master's house, into the slave's cabin, into the fields,through the whole Southern country in fact,- and shows us not only the worst but the best phases of the slavery system, and allows us to see it as it really is. And all the while the power of her own intense sympathy for the oppressed millions whose cause she pleads, is felt throbbinig in every line of the narrative. In the year 1852, Mrs. Stowe took up her residence in Andover, Massachusetts, her husband having already accepted a call to the Professorship of Sacred Literature in the Thleological Seminary there located. Soon after she published the "Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin," wherein the accuracy of the statements, and the substantial truth of the representations she had made in her recent story, were fully vindicated. For a long while her health had been dclelicate, but now it was very seriously impaired. Her severe toil and the great excitement under which her labor had been performed had exhausted her strength, and she was almost prostrated. This fact determined her to accept the very urgent and flattering invitations she had received, from various parts of England and Scotland, to cross the sea and visit the mother country; a

Page  319 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. ansd, accordingly, she embarked with her husband, her brother, and one or two personal friends, and arrived in Liverpool on the 11th day of April. She was everywhere welcomed with surprising enthusiasm and cordiality. Great assemblies gathered about her, at almost every step in her journey, to do her honor. One and the same feeling was everywhere expressed. The samne enthusiasm pervaded all ranks of society. On the third day after her arrival in England, at a public meeting in Liverpool, the chairman, in the name of the associated ladies of Liverpool, presented Mrs. Stowe with a most signal testimonial of the esteem in which she was universally held, both as a woman of genius who had written a story of world-wide renown, and as an instrument in the hands of God of arousing the slumbering sympathies of England in behalf of the suffering slave. Great public meeting,s were held. in Glasg,ow, in Edinlburgh, in Aberdeen, and in Dundee; there were receptions, and dinners, and addresses, and scarcely an end to the public manifestations of affectionate enthusiasm towards her. Perhaps the general feeling that prompted and found expression in all these outward demonstrations may be most satisfactorily described by a few extracts from an address wlhich was presented to Mrs. Stowe at a public meeting in Dundee, by Mr. Gilfillan, in behalf of the Ladies' AntiSlavery Association: — "We beg permission to lay before you the expressions of a gratitude and an enthusiasm in some measure commensurate with -your transcendent literary merit and moral worth. Wie congratulate you on the success of the chef-d'euvre of your genius, -a success altogether unparalleled in the history of literature. We congratulate you in having, in that tale, supported with matchless eloquence and pathos the cause of the crushed, the forgotten, and the injured. We 319

Page  320 320 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. recognize, too, with delirlght, the spirit of enli,ghltened and evangelical piety which breathes through your work, and serves to confute the calumny that none but infidels are in. terested in the cause of abolition." These three points were made and emphasized in almost every speech or address that was offered in her honor. She had given the world a most charming and wonderful work of fiction. She had shot, with her own tender hand, the arrow that had pierced the joints of the armor wherewith the system of slavery was clad, and had given the monstrous evil a mortal wound. She had furnished, in her "Uncele Tom," "one of the most beautiful embodiments of the Christi(an relig,ion that was ever presented to the world." And if these last words, which were uttered by no other than the well-known Rev. John Agell James, seem extrava(rant praise, we have only to remind the reader that the celebrated critic, HIeinrich Heine, whom no one can suspect of partiality in such a matter, after describing his gropings and flounderings amid the uncertain and unsatisfactory speculations of German philosophy, tells us how at length he came to quit Ilecgel, and to quote the Bible with Uncle Tom, -came, too, to see that there was a higher wisdom in the poor slave's simple ftith than in the great philosopher's dialectics, and found peace and satisfaction in "kneeling with his praying brother," Uncle Tom. After various excursions, to Paris, to Switzerland, to Germany, SIrs. Stowe returned to England and re-eml)arked for America on the 7th of September. In the following year she published an account of these European experiences, in the form of letters written to fiiends at home, uinder the title of "Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands," to which her husband contributed an introduction, in which some account is given of the public meetings which were heid in her honor

Page  321 IIARRIET BEECHER STOWE. during the tour throug,h Enland and Scotland. About this time a new and enlarged edition of the " Iayflower" was also published. Established in her home once more, and restored in health, Mrs. Stowe's literary labors were resumed; and in the year 1856, shortly after another foreign tour, her second antislavery novel was published, under the title of "Dred; a Tale of the Dismal Swamp." In the prefatce, the author declares her great purpose to be the same as that of her previous story. Once more she endeavors to do something towards revealing to the people the true character of the system of slavery. The book inevitably comes into couiparison with its prc(lecessor; and whatever may be truly said in its praise, it cannot be questioned that, both as a work of art and as an effective revelation of slavery, it fills fair below "Uncle Tom." The chief defects (of the bookl, and those which lhindered the completest fulfilrment of its noble purpose, are its lack of unity, and ever atnd anon a departure from the simplicity of a inarrative or representation, into the disenchantments of discussion and arguTment, by which the reader is disturbed in his pleasant dream and vision, and the reality of the scenes that move before him is explained away. The panorama does not move on without an interruption and in silence, as in the case of "ULTicle Tom," interpreting itself, and silently but powerfully iunfolding its purpose or moral, but stops now and then to give place to the voice of the delineator in explanations or vindications. In writing Uncle Tom," the author seems never to have thought that her representations would be called in question, and accordingly she did not so much as think of fortifying herself as she advanced, or of throwing in justifications and arguments, or of goingo aside for facts to substantiate her narrative, but kept faithfully to the simplicity of her purpose to exhibit slavery as she had seen and known it. But, in 21 321

Page  322 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. writing "Dred," she seems to have labored under the embarrassment of feeling that her exhibitions needed to be explained, or justified and substantiated here and there; and as often as the artist ceased painting, and bergan declaiming or defining; or, in other words, by as much as Mrs. Stowe attempted to give us, with "Dred," a "IKey" to it also, she violated the most fundamental artistic conditions of success. Thus, also, the whole exposition of slavery was more positive, and.formal, and dogmatic than in "Uncle Tom." The story did not grow like Uncle Tom," but was put together, and is rather a series of sketches than one, organic, illdivisible story. Dred himself, if not imperfectly conceived, is a conception so difficult of realization, and, in fact, so imperfectly created, that he fails to excite our sympathies. He is anm unreal presence,- a dark, gloomy,'lghostly being, at whose apparitions we wonder, at whose sutfferings we are not very much moved, and over whose fate it is impossible to fetclr a tear, -hardly a sigh, and that of relief. The fact that ill a recent edition of this story the title is changed from " Dred" to "Nina Gordon," is suggestive. But there are unsurpassable' passages and characters in "Dred." Til, Alunt 3filly, Nina Gordon, Jekyl, and Aunt Nesbit are persoinages that demonstrate Mrs. Stowe's matchless power in delineating and differentiating individual characters. Uncle Tif, so perfectly devoted to " dese y'er chil'en," so noble and simple of heart, and yet so irresistibly droll in his manners; - vwho wants to be "ordered round'fore folks," to maintain the filmily dignity; who, when his fire goes out immediately after it was kindled, exclaims, " Bress de Lord, got all de wood left! " - who sits by the bed of his dyiing mistress, with his big spectacles on his ulpturned nose, and a red handkerclhief pinned about his shoulders, comforting the sick, darning a stocking, rocking the cradle, singing to himself, and talking to the 322

Page  323 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. baby, all at once, - is a character in which the earnestness of Uncle Tom and the jollity of Mark Tapley are blended. That scene at the bedside of his mistress, and his dialogue with Fanny, wherein revival preaching is so finely criticised, and his famous lecture to the young ladies on their manners, are passages in which the relationship of pathos and humor is made manifest in the happiest possible manner. And wFhat more powerful chapter has Mrs. Stowe ever written than that in which A?tnt Milly tells to Nina Gordon the tragic, the terrible story of her life? Not long after the publication of "Dred," Mrs. Stowe be gan to write another story, which was published as a serial in the columi;s of the "Atlantic Monthly," in the year 1859. The "Miniister's Wooing," a tale of New England life in the latter part of the eighteenth century, has not unfrequently been pronounced by literary men to be the ablest of all the books which Mrs. Stowe has written. This opinion was expressed by so competent a critic as the Rev. Henry Alford, D.D., Dean of Canterbury. In it the author quits the subject of her previous stories, and returns again to that New England life, of which she has so genuine an appreciation, and is so fond and admirable an interpreter. But while this story was universally acknowledged to be one of great ability, and one in which the author gained new reputation, it was somewhat bitterly criticised on several grounds. Many very proper people professed the utmost disgust at the treatment which the celebrated Dr. Hopkins received at the hands of the author. It was declared to be an unpardonal)le sin to have broughlt so dignified, august, and venerable a divine down to the common level of lovers in a love story. Dr. Itopkins, or any other orthodox and exemplary doctor of cdivinity, should unquestionably have been far above any such worldliness and weakness as falling in love, especially with a young and pretty woman. He certainly should have 323

Page  324 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. chosen some elderly, thin, angular, solemn, uncomfortable Calvinistic spinster, and so manifested his wvillitngness to be damned for the glory of God. But, unfortunately, in a moment of inexplicable weakness, Dr. Hopkins did allow his affections to fix upon and twine about a young, and beautiful maiden, and with him as he was, and not as he undoubtedly ought to have been, Mrs. Stowe dealt,- not without causing the great divine to appear somewhat diviner, to carnal eyes, at least, by her revelation of human feelings (frailties, if you please) that still remained uncrucified in his bosom. Indeed, after having read his ponderous treatises, and also an exhaustive biography of him, written by ab)le hands, we had regarded him somewhat as we might have regarded a statue, by MIichael Angelo, of the ideal theologian. That he had "parts" seemed probable; but that he had "passions" we hardly dreamed. Mrs. Stowe told us that this cold, hard, colossal theological image was, after all, a great, simple-minded, honest, powerful, tender-hearted man, clad in Calvinism as in a cumbrous coat of mail, and armed therewith as with a weaver's beam, but loving and lovable withal as a little child. We felt gratefil to the image-breaker, and thanked her for showing, us the man underneath the theologian, -the Christian underneath and more glorious than the Calvinist; but as between those who were gratified and those who were horrified, who could judge, save the great reading public; and has not their judgment been rendered? Mloreover the book was supposed by many watchmen on the walls of Zion to be heterodox in its tendencies, and to lie w ell adapted, if not expressly designed, to bring what is called New England theology into contempt. That a woman of strong will, and of quick and ardent temperament, who had put her convictions under the rigid theology of that age and region,- on receiving the news of the sudden death at sea of the son of her love, who had never given evidence of 3'-)4

Page  325 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. the effectual calling of God, and was therefore to be given over as among the lost, - should rise up, in the intensity of her anguish, in a momentary rebellion against the God of her creed, and utter wild and even wicked cries, and show herself intractable to the common arts, and insensible to the ordinary platitudes of consolation, and be quite beside herself in fact, seemed strange to these suspicious watchmen. Had they never read of Job, or of Peter? Is it then an easy thing for a mother to give up her only God, or her only son? And is it not quite enougth to drive an earnest soul into temporary madness to be shut up to such a dreadful alternative? It seenled strange also to these watchmen that poor old Candace, all ignorant but Christian colored woman, should have been brought forward, rather than Dr. Hopkins, to soothe and quiet and comfort and bring back to reason this distracted mother. BLut Candace had tact, and a woman's instinctive comprehension of the case in hand, neither of which the theologian possessed. Did they never read that God hath chosen the weak things of this world to confound the things that are mighty, and base things of the world, and thlings that are despised, hath God chosen.. to bring to naught things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence"? The critical watchmen took it very hardly that Miss Prissy should free her mind in such a shockingly latitudinarian manner. That estimable buLt garrulous young lady ventured to say, "We don't ever know what God's grace has done for folks;" and that she hoped that the Lord made " Jim one of the elect;" and proceeded to quote what a certain woman once said to a certain other woman whose wild son had fallen from the mast-head of a vessel, to the effect that "from the mast-head to the deck was time enough for divine grace to do its work." But Mfiss Prissy is certainly a very pure and consistent Calvinist in all she says. Taking into account the doctrines of an unconditional and absolute personal 325

Page  326 326 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. election, and together with it that of an instantaneous regen eration by a divine power that descends irresistibly upon each elect individuaI at the predestinated moment, it seems as though JIiss.Prissy was simply making a practical application of the liopkinisian theology, and giving poor Jiml the benefit of it. The twenty-third chapter, entitled " Views of Divine Government," is the heart of the book. Her description of New England, at the date of her story, " as one vast sea, surging from depths to heights with thought and discussion on the most insoluble of mysteries;" her noble characterization of the early ministry of New England; her representation of the preaching of that time, and of the current views both of human existence and of religious doctrines; her vivid statement of the fearful issues which the theological systems presented to the mind, and of the different effects produced thereby, so that " while strong spirits walked, palm-crownled, with victorious hynns, along these sublime paths, feebler and more sensitive ones lay along the track, bleeding away in lifelong despair," - all this is set forth with great clearness and power. 3is. Marvyn, whose probably unregenerate son had been lost at sea, as was reported, was bound up in the logical consequences of her rigorous creed. Her brave, beautiful boy was lost! She broke out in a strain of wild despair lo M1ary. She could not be reconciled, simply because, according to her theology, there was nothing in God or in his government to attract or comfort. The poor woman was well-nig;h crazy, and no wonder, with nothing but the sharp points of her unsuspected conceptions of divine sovereignty to fall back upon. "I am a lost spirit," she cried; " leave me alone!" At that moment poor old Candace, who had never been able to understand theology at all, but knew the God and the

Page  327 HARI,IET BEECHER STOWE. Saviour of the gospl)el, having anxiously overheard the dreadful monologue, burst into the room. "Come, ye poor little lamb," she said, walking straight up to Mlrs. Miarvyn, " come to old Candace! " and with that she gathered the pale form to her bosom, and sat down and began rocking her, as if she had been a babe. " Ioney, darlin', ye a'n't rig,ht,- dar's a dreadful mistake somewhar. Why, de Lord a'l't like what ye tink. -He loves ye, honey! why, jes' feel how Iloves ye, -poor ole black Candace,an' I a'n't better'in Him as made me! Who was it wore de crown o' thorns, lamb? - who was it sweat great drop)s o' blood?- who was it said,'Father forgive dem'? Siy, hloley, wasn't it de Lord dat made ye? Dar, dar, now ye'r cryi'! -cry away, and ease yer poor little heart. He died for i\Iass'r Jim,- loved him and died for him, -jes' give up his sweet, precious body and soul for him on de cross! Laws, jes' leave him in Jesus' hands! Why, honey, dar's de very print o' de nails in his hands now!" The flood-gates were rent; and healitig sobs and tears shook the frail form, as a faded lily shakes under the soft rains of summer. All in the room wept together. "Now, honey," said Candace, "I know our Doctor's a milghty good man, an' larnced, - an' in fair weather I hia'n't no 'bjection to yer hearin' all about dese yer great ain' nmighty tings he's got to say. But, honey, dey woll't do for yer now. Sick folks mus'n't hab strong ineat; anl' times like dese, dar jes''L'n't but one ting to come to, anl' dat ar's Jesus. Look 7ight at Jesus! Tell ye, honey, ye can't live no other way now. Don't ye'member how He looked on his mother, when she stood faintin' an' tremnblin' under de cross, jes' like you? He knows all about mothers' hearts. He won't break yours. 327

Page  328 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. It was jes''cause He know'd we'd come into straits like dis yer, dat IIe went through all dese tings,- I-Iiim, dle Lord o' Glory! Is dis Him you was a-talkin' about? Iim you can't love? Look at Him, all' see if you can't I Look all' see what ie is! - don't ask no questions, an' don't go to no reasonin's, -jes' look at ]iin, hangiu' dar, so sweet and patient on de cross! All dey could do couldn't stop his lovin' 'em; he prayed for'em wid all de breath he had. Dar's a God you can love, a'n't dar? Candace loves Him, - poor, old, foolish, black, wicked Candace,- and she knows He Joves her." And here Candace broke down into torrents of weeping. "They laid the mother, faint and weary, on her bed, and beneath the shadow of that suffering cross came down a heal. ing sleep onl those weary eyelids." Could anything be more beautiful than the irrepressible outburst of this simple woman's Christian sympathy and love, as she took her mistress into her arms, and offered her up to God on the altar of her own heart, and bore her griefs and carried her sorrows, and drew her gently away from her theories of the divine purposes and government, and laid her tenderly down beneath the cross, in the shelter of the central fact of Christianity, where she nmight feel the love of God, and weep her madness away, and find comfort and peace? It is perfectly clear that Mrs. Stowe is no blind believer in the old New England theology. She believes in the theology of the feelings as well as in that of the intellect. Poor old Candace, with her tender, sympathetic representations of the love of Jesus, is needed quite as much as the strong divine with his theory of underived virtue and his metaphysical subtleties concerning it. And while " The Miniister's Wooing" is precisely what its name indicates, a love-story, and both a 328

Page  329 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. charming and powerful one, it contains also a fiee and bold handlitng of the traditional orthodoxy of New England, and a masterly exhibition of both its strong and its weak points, its wholesome and its pernicious effects. We (ire led to think of it somewhat as Jamnes Alarvyn thought of Di. Hopkins himself: "He is a great, grand, large pattern of a man,a man who isn't afraid to think, and to speak anything he does think; but then I do believe, if he would take a voyage round the world in the forecastle of a whaler, he would know more about what to say to people than he does now; it would certainly give him several new points to be considered!" It is not unlikely that many of the systems and bodies of divinity that have been compacted and elaborated with wonderful skill in the secluded work-shops of our great theologians, might have been modified in some of their parts, and on the whole greatly improved by such a voyage as young Marvyn suggests. "The Minister's Wooing," apart from the mere story which is told in it, was rightly regarded as a subtle and masterly piece of theological criticism. As such it was no less warmly welcomed than bitterly assailed. But whatever may be thought of its soundness and merit, there can be no doubt of its great influence. Few books that have been published within the last twenty years have done more to confirm the popular suspicion that the most perfectly compacted dogmatic systems of theology are of all things the most imperfect, inadequate, and unsatisfactory, and to strengthen what may be called the liberal evangelical party of New England. Immediately after the publication of " The Minister's Wooinog" in book-form, Mrs. Stowe visited Europe again, sojourning for the most part in Italy, where she wrote her next story, "Agnes of Sorrento," which also appeared as a serial in the "Atlantic Monthly," during the year 1862. For many years Mrs. Stowe had been an occasional contrib 329

Page  330 330 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. utor to the "New York Independent," - a religious ine- spa per of great reputation and large circulation throughout the country. In the year 1862 she began to write for its columns "The Pearl of Orr's Island," -.a pleasant story, whose scene is laid on the beautiful coast of Maine, at Harpswell, not far from Brunswick, where she formerly resided, and whose plan turns upon certain traditions of that seaside community. Summer tourists still visit Orr's Island, and inspect the shell of a house in which the pretty Pearl grew. For many years Mrs. Stowe has been one of the able corps of writers whose articles have enriched the columns of the "Atlantic Monthly," and no one of them has done more to give that maga. zine its large circulation and high reputation than slhe. "Little Foxes" and "Chimney Corner" papers were written for it, and both these series of piquant essays have had a large sale at home and abroad. The "Queer Little People," whom Mrs. Stowe described to the readers of "Our Young Folks," were people of so much interest that her papers concerning them were gathered into a volume and scattered through the land to the delight of thousands of people both big and little. Throughout her literary career Mrs. Stowe has been known by her friends, and in later years has become known to the public, as a poet whose songs, in certain tender and plaintive keys, have a peculiar charm and power. Within a few years a goodly number and a judicious selection of her poems have been published. They are chiefly of a religious character, and are the rhythmical breathings of a deep and almost mystic piety. Their music is like the sounds that come up out of the heart of the sea in peaceful summer days when one is by himself on the shore, - sadly sweet and sweetly sad. Oneof the most beautiful of all these poems is the following which has found a place in many of the hymnologies of our churches, and has gone out, indeed, through all the world:

Page  331 HARRIET BEECHIER STOWE. "When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, And billows wild contend with angry roar, 'Tis said, far down beneath its wild commotion, That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. "Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth, And silver waves chime ever peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth, Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea. "So, to the heart that knows thy love, 0 Purest, There is a temple, sacred evermore, And all the babble of life's angry voices Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door. " Far, far away the roar of passion dieth, And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully, And no rude storm howv, fierce soe'er it flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, 0 Lord, in thee. " 0 rest of rest! 0 peace, serene, eternal! Thou ever livest, and thou changest never; And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth Fulness of joy, forever and forever." In the year 1864 Mrs. Stowe built a beautiful house in the city of Hartford, where she has since resided, surrounded by a large circle of family friends, and both admnired and loved by all who enjoy the honor of her acquaintance. In the midst of whatever can minister to comfort, or invite to leisure and repose, her years are still years of literary labors, and also of rich fruits in their season. Late may she rest from those labors I 331

Page  332 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. BY THEODORE TILTON. I OXCE watched an artist while he tried to transfer to his canvas the lustre of a precious stone. His picture, after his utmost skill, was dull. A radiant and sparkling woman, full of wvit, reason, and fancy, is a whole crown of jewels. A poor, opaque copy of her is the most that one can render in a biographical sketch. Elizabeth Cady, daughter of Judge Daniel Cady and MIargaret Livingston, was born November 12th, 1816, in Johnstown, New York,- forty miles north of Albany. Birthplace is a secondary parentage, and transmits character. Elizabeth's birthplace was more famous half a century ago than since; for then, though small, it was a marked intellectual centre; and now, though large, it is an unmarked manufacturing, town. Before her birth, it was the vice-ducal seat of Sir William Johnson, the famous English negotiator with the Indians. During her girlhood, it was an arena for the intellectual wrestlings of 1cent, Tompkins, Spencer, Elisha Williams,.and Abraham Van Vechten, who, as lawyers, were among the chiefest of their time. It is now deqvoted mainly to the fabrication of steel springs and buckskin gloves. So, like Wordsworth's early star, "it has faded into the light of common day." A Yankee said that his chief ambition was to become more 332

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Page  333 MRS. ELIZABETH CADS STANTON. famous than his native town: Mrs. Stanton has lived to see her historic birthplace shrink into a mere local repute, while she herself has been quoted, ridiculed, and abused into a national faime. But Johnstown still retains one of its ancient splendors, -a glory still as fresh as at the foundation of the world. Standing on its hills, one looks off upon a couratry of enamelled meadow lands, that melt away southward toward the Mohawk, and northward to the base of those grand mountains which are God's monument over the grave of John Brown. In sight of six different counties in clear weather, Elizabeth Cady, a child of free winds and flowing brooks, roamed at will, frolicking with lambs, chasing butterflies, or, like Proserpine, gathering flowers, "herself a fairer flower." As Hanson Cox, standing under the pine tree at Dartmouth College, and gazing upon the outlying landscape, exclaimed, " This is a liberal education!" so Elizabeth Cady, in addition to her books, her globes, her water-colors, and her guitar, was an apt pupil to skies and fields, gardens and meadows, flocks and herds. Happy the child whose foster-parents are God and Nature! The one person who, more than any other, gave an intellectual bent to her early life, even more than her father and mother, was her minister. This was the Rev. Simon Hosack, a good old Scotchman, pastor for forty years of a Presbyterian church in which the Cady family had always been members, and of which Mrs. Stanton (though she has long resided elsewhere) is a member to this very day;-a fact which her present biographer takes special pains to chronicle, lest, otherwise, the world milght be slow to believe that this brilliant, audacious, and iconoclastic woman is actually an Old School Presbyterian. The venerable Scotch parson- snowy-haired, heavy-browed, and bony-cheeked - was generally cold to most of his parishioners, but always cordial to Elizabeth. A great 333

Page  334 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. affection existed between this shepherd and his lamb. What she could not say to either father or mother, she unbosomed to him. Full of the sorrows which all imaginative natures suffer keenly in childhood, she found in this patriarch a fatherly confessor, who tenderly taught her how to bear her little burdens of great weight, or, still better, how to suffer them and be strong. Riding his parish rounds, he would take Elizabeth into his buggy, give the reins into her hands, and, while his fair charioteer vainly whipped the mild-mannered mare, the good man would put on his spectacles, and read aloud from some book or foreign review, or, when not reading, wouldtalk. The favorite subject, both for reading and talking, was religion, -never the dark, but always the bright side of it. Indeed, religion has no dark side. The fancied shadow is not in the thing seen, but in the eye seeing. "If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!" Seeking to fill the girl's mind with sunshine and glory, her minister kept always painting, toher young f'imcy, fair pictures of paradise and happy saints. Peregrinating in his antique vehicle, the childless old man, fatherinug this soulful child, taught her that the way to heaven was as lovely as a country road fringed with wild roses and arched with summer blue. "My father," she says in one of her letters, "'was truly great and good,-an ideal judge; and to his sober, taciturn, andwmajestic bearing, he added the tenderness, purity, and refinement of a true woman. SMy mother was the soul of independence and self-reliance, -cool in the hour of danger, and never knowing fear. She was inclined to a stern militaiy rule of the household,-a queenly and magnificent sway; but my father's great sense of justice, and the superior weight of his greater alge (for he was many years her senior), so miodified the domestic governmenlt that the children had, in the n main, a pleasant childhood." 334

Page  335 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. The child. is not only father of the man, but also moth,r of the woman. This large-brained, inquisitive, and ambitious girl, who early manifested a meditative tendency, soon found her whole nature sensibly jarred with the first inward and prophetic stirrings toward the great problem to which she has devoted her after years,- the elevation and enfranchisement of woman. In my earliest girlhood," she says, "I spent much time in my fathler's office. There, before I could understand much of the talk of the older people, I heard many sad complaints, made by women, of the injustice of the laws. We lived in a Scotclh neilghborhood, where many of the men still retained the old feudal ideas of women and property. Thus, at a man's death his property would descend to his eldest son, and the mother would be left with nothing, in her own right. It was not unusual, therefore, for the mother, who had probal)ly broughl t all the property into the family, to be made an unhappy dependent on the bounty of a dissipated son. The tears and complaints of these women, who came to my father for le(gal advice, toliched my heart; and I would often childishly inquire into all the particulars of their sorrow, and would appeal to my father for some prompt remedy. On one occasion, lhe took dcown a law-book, and tried to show me that somethingi called'the laws' prevented him from putting a stop to these cruLel and unji.ist things. In this way, my head was filled with a great anger against those cruel and atrocious laws. After which the students in the office, to amuse themselves by exciting my feelings, would always tell mc of any unjust laws lvhieh they found durinu their studies. MIIy mind iwas thus so aroused giainst the barbarism of the laws thus pointed out, that I one day marked them with a pencil, and dclecided to take a pair of scissors and cut them out of the book,- supposing that my father and his library were the beginnilig and 335

Page  336 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. end of the law! I thought that if I could only destroy those laws, those poor women would have no further trouble. But when the students informed my father of my proposed mutilationi of his volumes, he explained to me how fruitless my childish vengeance would have been, and taught me that bad laws were to be abolished in quite a different way. As soon as I fairly understood how the thing could be accomplished, I vowed that, when I became old enough, I would have such abominable laws changed. And I have kept my vow." After the failure of Elizabeth's novel and original plan of amending the laws with her scissors, another equally strange ambition took possession of her mind. "I was about ten years old," she says, "when my only brother, who had just graduated at Union College with high honors, came home to die. He was my father's pride and joy. It was easily seen that, while my father was kind to us all, the one son filled a larger place in his affections and future plans than the five daughters together. W5ell do I remember how tenderly he watched the boy in that last sickness; how he sighed, and wiped the tears from his eyes, as he slowly walked up and down the hall; and how, when the last sad moment came, and all was silent in the chamber of death, he knelt and prayed for comfort and support. I well remember, too, going into the large, dark parlor to look at my brother's corpse, and fincding my father there, pale and immovable, sitting in a great arm-chair by his side. For a long time my father took no notice of me. At last I slowly approached him and climbed upon his knee. He mechanically put his arm about me, and, with my head resting against his beating heart, we sat a long, long time in silence, -he, thinllking of the wreck of all his hopes in the loss of his dear son, and I fully feeling the awful void death had made. At length, he heaved a deep sigh and said,'O my daughter, I wish you 336

Page  337 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. were a boy!''Tlhen I will be a boy,' said I,'and will do all that my brother did.' All that day, and far into the night, I pondered the problem of boyhood. I thought the chief thing was, to be learned and courageous, as I fancied all boys were. So I decided to learn Greek, and to manage a horse. Hiaving come to that conclusion, I fell asleep. My resolutions, unlike most made at night, did not vanish in the morning. I rose early, and hastened to put them into execution. They were resolutions never to be forgotten, -destined to mould my whole future character. As soon as I was dressed, I hastened to meet our good pastor in his garden, which joined our own. Finding him at work there as usual, I said,'Doctor, will you teach me Greek?''Yes,' he replied.'Will you give me a lesson now?''Yes, to be sure,' he added. Laying down his hoe, and taking my hand,'Come into my study,' said he,'and we will begin at once.' As we walked along, I told him all my thoughts and plans. Having no children, he loved me very much, entered at once into the sorrow which I had felt on discovering that a girl was less in the scale of beiing than a boy, and praised my determination to prove the contrary. The old grammar which he had studied in the University of Glasgow, was soon in my hand, and the Greek article learned before breakfast. Tlen came the sad pageantry of death, -the weeping finends, the dark rooms, the ghostly stillness, the funeral cortege, the prayer, the warning exhortation, the mournful chant, the solemn tolling bell, the burial. How my flesh crawled during those three sad days! What stralng,e, undefined fears of the unknown took possession of me! For months afterward, at the twilight hour, I went with my father to the new-made grave. Near it stood a tall poplar, against which I leaned, while my father threw himself upon the grave with outstretched arms, as if to embrace 22 337

Page  338 338 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. his child. At last the frosts and storms of November came, and made a chilling barrier between the living and the dead, and we went there no more. "During all this time, the good doctor and I kept up our lessons; and I learned, also, how to drive and ride a horse, and how (on horseback) to leap a fence and ditch. I taxed every power, in hope some day to make my father say,'Well, a girl is as good as a boy, after all!' But he never said it. When the doctor would come to spend the evening, with us, I would whisper in his ear,'Tell my father how fast I get on.' And he would tell him all, and praise me too. But my fathet would only pace the room and sigh,'Ah, she should have been a boy!' And I, not knowiing why, would hide my head on the doctor's shoulder, and often weep with vexation. "At length, I entered the academy, and, in a class mainly of boys, studied Mathematics, Latin, and Greek. As two prizes were offered in Greek, I strove for one, and got it. How well I remember my joy as I received that prize! There was no feeling of ambition, rivalry, or triumph over my companions, nor any feeling of satisfaction in winning my honors in presence of all the persons assembled in the academy on the day of exhibition. One thought alone occupied my mind.'Now,' said I,'my fitther will be happy, - he will be satisfied.' As soon as we were dismissed, I hastened home, rushed into his office, laid the new Greek Testament (which was my prize) on his latp, and exclaimed, 'There, I have got it!' HIe took the book, looked through it, asked me some questions about the class, the teachers, and the spectators, appeared to be pleased, handed the book back to me, and, when I was aching to have him say something which would show that he recognized the equality of the daughter with the son, kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed with a sigh,'Ah, you should have been a boy T'

Page  339 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. That ended my pleasure. I hastened to my room, flulngl the book across the floor, and wept tears of bitterness. "But the good doctor, to whom I then went, gave me hope and courage. Wrhat a debt of gratitude I owe to that dear old man! I used to visit him every day, tell him the news, comb his hair, read to him, talk with him, and listen with rapture to his holy words. Oh, how often the memory of many things he has said has given me comfort and strength in the hour of darkness and struggle! One day, as we sat alone, and I held his hand, and he was ill, he said,'Dear child, it is your mission to help mould the world anew. May good angels give you thoughts, and move you to do the work which they want done on earth. You must promise me one thing, and that is, that you will always say what you thil)k. Your thoughts are given you to utter, not to conceal; and if you are true to yourself, and give to others all you see and know, God will pour more light and truth into your own soul. My old Greek lexicon, testament, and grammar, which I studied forty years ago, and which you and I have thumbed so often together, I shall leave to you when I die; and, whenever you see them, remember that I am watching you firom heaven, and that you can still come to me with all your sorrows, just as you have always done. I shall be ever near you.' "W hen the last sad scene was over, and his will was opened, sure enough, there was a clause in it, saying,'My Greek lexicon, testament, and gramnmar, I give to Elizabeth Cady. "Great Was the void which the doctor's death made in my heart. But I slowly transferred my love to the books. When I first received them they were all falling to pieces. So I had them newly bound in black morocco and gilt. Dear X e they to me to this day, and dear will continue to be as 339

Page  340 340 EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE. long as I live. I never look at them without thanking God that he gave me, in my childhood, so noble a friend." At the time of Dr. Hosack's death, which was in Elizabeth's fifteenth year, her term at the Johnstown Academy was drawing to a close. Among, the scholars, whether girls or boys, none could recite better, or run faster, than herself; none missed fewer lessons, or friolics; none were oftener at the head of recitations, or mischiefs. If she was detained from the class, the teacher felt the loss of her cheery company; if she was absent from the out-door games, the boys said that half the sport was gone. She who had been the loved companion of a sedate theologian had, at the same time, remained the ringleader of a bevy of mad romps. A schoolhouse is a kingdon; and Elizabeth was a school-house queen. After graduating at the head of her class, a sudden blow fell upon her heart, and left a grievous wNound. She had secretly cherished the hope, that as she had kept ahead of tLe boys, and thus shown at least her equality with the domineering, sex, she would be sent (as Johnstown boys were then usually sent) to Union College at Schenectady. The thoulght never occurred to her, that this institution, like most other colleges, was not so wise and liberal as to educate both sexes instead of one. There will come a time when any institution that proposes to educate the sexes separately, will be votell too ignioranit of human nature to be trusted with nmoulcling the minds of the sons and daughcters of the republic. To shut girls and boys out of each other's sight during the four most impressible years of life is one of the many conventional interferences with natural law which society unwittingly ordains to its own great harm. It is a happiness to see that most of the new colleges, particilarly in the Western States, have been based onl a more sen. bible theory.

Page  341 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. 341 Just when Elizabeth Cady's heart was most set on Union College,- whither she would have gone hadl she pleased her father by being a boy, she was told that she must go instead to Mlrs. Willard's Female Seminary in Troy because she had disappointed himn by being a girl. Great was her indignation at this announcement, impetuous her protest against this plan. The stigma of inferiority thus cast upon her on account of her sex, and on account of her sex alone, was galling to a maiden who had already distanced all her competitors of the opposite sex. At every step of her journey to Troy she seemed to herself to be treading on her pride, and crushing out her life. Exasperated, mortified, and humbled, she began, in a sad frame of mind, a boarding-school career. "If there is any one thing on earth," she says, " from which I pray God to save my daughters, it is a girls' seminary. The two years which I spent in a girls' seminary were the dreariest years of my whole life." Nevertheless, nothilng remained for the disappointed child but to make the best of a bad situation. So she beguiled her melancholy by playing mischievous pranks. For instauce, in the seminary, a big, hand-bell was rung downstairs every morning, as a call to prayer, and upstairs every night, as a call to bed. After the nig,htly rin(,in, the bell was set down on the upper floor in an aingle of the wall. One night, at eleven o'clock, after the inmallttes had l)een an hour in bed, Elizabeth furtively rose, stole out of her dormitory in the drapery of a ghost, and solemnly kicked the bell step by step down cvery flilght of stairs to tllhe Lground floor! Although everybody in the houLse was wakened by the noise, and many of the doors were opened, she glided past all the peeping eyes like a phantom, to the general terror of the whole house, and was never afterwards suspected as the author of the mischief. Soon, however, the merry frightener of others was solemnly frightened herself. The Rev. Charles G. Finney,- a pulpit

Page  342 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. orator who, as a terrifier of human souls, has proved himself the equal of Savonarola, - made a visit to Troy, and preached in the Rev. Dr. Bemnan's Presbyterian church, where Elizabeth and her school-mates attended. "I can see him jiow," she says (describiag Mr. Finney's preaching), "his great eyes rolling round the congregation, and his arms flying in the air like a windmill. One evening he described Hell and the Devil so vividly, that the picture glowed before my eyes ill the dark for months afterwards. Oil another occasion, when describing, the damnied as wandering inl the Inferiio, and inquiring their way through its avenues, he suddenly pointed with his finger, exclaiming, "There! do you not see them?" and I actually jumped up in church and looked round, -his description had been such a reality. In quoting this allusion to Mr. Finney, I cannot forbear saying that, although high respect is due to the intellectual, moral, and spiritual gifts of the venerable ex-president of Oberlin College, such preaching works incalculable harm to the very souls which it seeks to save. It worked harm to Elizabeth. The strong man struck the child as with a lion's paw. Fear of the judgment seized her soul. Mental anguish prostrated her health. Visions of the lost haunted her dreams. Dethronement of her reason was apprehended by her friends. Flinging, down her books, she suddenly fled home. The good minister of Johnstown, her revered counsellor, was in his grave. His successor was a stranger whom she could not approach. In her despair, she turned to her father. "Often," said she, "I would rise out of my bed, hasten to his chamber, kneel at his side, and ask him to pray for my soul's salvation, lest I should be east into hell before morning." At last, she regained her wonted composure of spirits, and joined the Johnstown church. "But I was never happy," she writes, "in that gloomy faith which dooms to 31-2

Page  343 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. eternal misery the greater part of the human family. It was no comfort to me to be saved with a chosen few, while the multitude, and those too who had suffered most on earth. were to have no part in heaven." IThe next seven years of her life she spent at Johnstown, dividing her time between book-delving and horse-taming, and, having an almost equal relish for each, she conquered the books in her fatlher's library, and the horses in her fatther's stable. Ini fact, she would sometimes ride half the day over hill and meadow, like a fox-hunter, and then study law-books half the night, like a jurist. When she was busy at her embroidery or water-colors, her father, who had a poor opinion of such accomplishments, would bring to her the " PRevised Statutes," and say, " My daughter, here is a book which, if you read it, will give you something sensible to say to Mr. Spencer and Mr. Williams when they next make us a visit." Mr. Spencer and Mr. Williams were legal magnates, who made Judge Cady's dinner-table a frequent arena for the discussion of nice points of law. So Elizabeth, with a fine determination to make herself the peer of the whole table, diligently begall and pursued that study of the laws of her country, which has since armed and equipped her, as from an arsenal of weapons, for her struggle against all oppressive legislation concerniing woman. As to her horse-riding, she has of late years discontinued it, for the reason - if I may be so ungallant as to hint it- that a lady of very elegant but also very solid proportions is somewhat more at her ease in a carriage than on a saddle. In 1839, in her twenty-fourth year, while on a visit to her distit,guished cousin, Gerrit Smith, at Peterboro', in the central part of New York State, she made the acquaintance of Mr. Henry B. Stanton, then a young and fervid orator, who had won distinction in the anti-slavery movement. The acquaintances speedily became friends; the friends grew into 343

Page  344 344 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. lovers; and the lovers, after a short courtship, married, and immediately set sail for Europe. This voyage was undertaken, not merely for pleasure and sight-seeing, but that Mr. Stanton mighlt fulfil the mission of a delegate to the " World's Anti-slavery Convention," to be held in London in 1840. Many well-known American women were delegates, but, on presentinig their credentials, were denied membership on account of their sex. Lucretia Mott, Sarah Pugh, Emily Winslow, Abby IKimber, Mary Grew, andAnne Greene Phillips, - who had no superiors in all England for moral worth,- found, to their astonishment, that, after having devoted their lives to the anti-slavery cause, they were repulsed from an anti-slavery convention which they had gone three thousand miles to attend. Wendell Phillips argued manfully for their admission, but in vain. William Lloyd Garrison - who, having crossed in a tardy ship, did not arrive till after the question had been decided, and decided unjustly -refilsed to present his credentials, took no part in the proceedings, and sat a silent spectator in the gallery, - one of the most chivalrous acts of his life. Beaten in the committee, the ladies transferred the question to the social circles. Every dinner-table at which they were present grew lively with the theme. At a diinner-table in Queen Street, Mrs. Lucretia Mott -then in the prime of her intellectual powers, and with a head which Conimbe, the phrenologist, pronounced the finest he had ever seen onl a woman- replied so skilfully to the arg,uments of a dozen friendly opponents, chiefly clergymen, that she was the acknowle(lged victor in the debate. It was then and there that Mrs. Stanton, for the first time, saw, heard, and became acquainted with Lucretia Mott. Often and often, during her maidenly years, Elizabeth Cady had pondered the manysided question of woman's relations to society, to the State, to the industrial arts, and particularly to the law, of property,

Page  345 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. But, in thinking these thoug,hts, she had hitherto supposed herself to be alone in the world. Now, however, during a six weeklis' constant and familiar coml)anionship with Mrs. MIott, she wonderingly heard the whole cyclopedia of her own hidden and secretly cherished convictions openly colnfessed by another's lips. All the women with whota Mrs. Stanton had ever associated in America had, without exception, belonged to the circle of conservative opillion. Mrs. MIott was the first liberal thinker on womanhood whom she had ever encountered. Elizabeth's delight at thus finding a woman who had thoug,ht farther than herself, on some of the most vital questions affecting the human soul, was as glowimg and encheanting as if she had suddenly discovered a cavern of hid treasures. It is not too much to say that the influence of the elder of these women on the younger was greater than the combined influence of everything else which that younger saw and heard during her foleig,n tour. This is not an exaggerated statement. I once asked her the question, "What most impressed you inll Europe?" and she instantly replied, "Lucretia Mott!" One day, as a party of a dozen or more friends were visitilng the British Museum, Mrs. AMott and Mrs. Stanton, who were of the company, had hardly entered the building when they sat down and began to talk to each other. The rest went forward, made the Circuit of the curiosities, and came back to the entrance, to find that the two talkers still sat with their heads together, never having stirred from their platces. The sympathetic twain had found more in each other than either cared to look for in the whole British Museum. Mrs. Stanton's enthusiasm for Mrs. MIott continues still as fresh and warm as then. And no wonder! For, in the same sense in which the greatest man ever produced in this country was Benjamin Franklin, the greatest woman ever produced in this country is Lucretia Mott. 345

Page  346 346 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. On returning to America, Mr. Stanton began the practice of law in Boston, where, with his wife and family, he resided for five years. The east winds, always unfriendly to his throat, at last drove him to take shelter in the greater kindliness of an inland climate. Accordingly he transferred his household and business to Seneca Falls, in the State of New York. The first "Womnan's Rights Convention" (known to history by that name) was held July 19th and 20th, 1848, in the Wesleyan Chapel at Seneca Falls. Copies of the official report of the proceedings are now rare, and will one day be hunted for by antiquarians, - a petite pamphlet, about the size of a man's hand, resembling in letter (though hardly in spirit) an evangelical tract by the American Tract Society. My own copy has become yellow-tinted by time. With a reverential interest I look back on this modest chronicle of a great event. That convention little thought it would be historic. But it was the first of a chain of similar conventions which, like the links round a Leyden jar, have since girdled half the world with the brilghtness of a new idea. The chief agent in calling the convention was Mrs. Stanton. It met in the town of her residence. Its resolutions and declarations of sentiment were the offspring, of her pen. Its one great leading idea - the elective franchise- was a suggestioni of her brain. I do not know of any public demand for woman's suffrage, made by any organized convention, previous to Mrs. Stantonl's demand for it in the following resolution: "Resolved, that it is the duty of the women of this country to secure to themselves their sacred righlt to the elective franchise." I am aware that women loing before had voted (for a short time) in New Jersey. But woiman's political ri,ghts had already been slumbering for years when Mrs. Stallton jarred them illto sudden wakefulness. This she did to the consternation of her best friends. The convention at

Page  347 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON Seneca Falls was called, as the advertisement phrased it, "to discuss the social, civil, and religious condition of woman." Nothing was here said of woman's political condition, except so far as that might be ambiguously included in her civil. Probably very few of the dele,gates, on going to the meeting, carried to it any such idea as woman's suffrage. When Mrs. Stanton privately proposed to introduce the resolution which I have quoted, even Lucretia Mott- who (as the report characterizes her) was "the ruling spirit of the occasion "-attempted to dissuade the bold innovator. But the innovator would not be dissuaded. She offered her resolution, and, in support of it, made, for the first time in her life, a public speech. Not a natural orator, she at first shrank from taking the floor. But a sense of duty impelling her to utter her thought, she conquered her bewilderment, stated her views, answered the convention's objections, fought a courageous battle, and carried her proposition. No American woman ever rendered a more signal service to her country than was, on that day, bashfully, yet gracefully and triumphantly, performed by Mrs. Stanton. That convention, and, above all, its demand for woman's suffrage, excited the universal laughter of the nation. Wonder-stricken people asked each other the question, What sort of creatures could those women at Seneca Falls have been?;' It was never suspected by the general public that they were among the finest ladies in the land. Even theit own relatives and friends, who knew their personal virtues, lamented their public eccentricities and joined the general crowd of critics and satirists. Judge Cady, on hearing of what his daughter had done, fancied her crazy, and immediately journeyed from Johnstown to Seneca Falls to learn for himself whether or not that brilliant brain had been turned. "After my father's arrival," says she, "he talked with me a whole evening till one o'clock in the morning, trying to it 317

Page  348 EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE. reason me cut of my position. At length, kissing me good. nighlt, he said,'My child, I wish you had waited till I was under thLe scd, before you had done this foolish thing!' But I replied, laughing,'Ahl, sir, don't you remember how you used to give me law-books to read in order that I mignht have something sensible to say to your fi'iends, Mr. Spencer and Mr. Williams, when they came to dine with us? It was by reading those law-books that I found out the injustice of our American laws toward women. I might never have known anything on the subject except for yourself.'" The good maln before his death (which occurred several years afterward), although he had never relaxed his opposition to his daug,hter's views, nevertheless had come to cherish a secret pride at the skill, vigor, and eloquence with which she maintained them against all antagonists. From the day of the Seneca Falls Convention to the present, Mrs. Stanton has been one of the representative women of America. At a similar convention, held at Cleveland, Ohio, in 1853, Lucretia Mott proposed the adoption of the declaration of sentiments put forth at Seneca Falls in 1848. "She thought," says the official report,' that this would be but a fitting honor to her who initiated these movements in behalf of the women of our country, Elizabeth Cady Stanton." I have seen the old and tattered manuscript of the first "set speech" which Mrs. Stanton ever delivered. It was a lyceum lecture, ably and elaborately written; and was repeated at several places in the interior of the State of New York, during the first months that followed the first convention. The manuscript, unaccountably slipping out of the author's hands, was passed from friend to friend, from town to town, and from State to State, until she not only lost sight of it for the time, but gave up all hope of ever seeing it again. Eighteen years afterward, it was returned to her, 348

Page  349 MRS. ELIZABEII CADY STANTON. somewhat the worse for wear. It had, meanwhile, travelled I know not how many hundreds of miles, and been read l)v I know not how many hundreds of persons. On recovering the lost scroll, she penned on its margin this inscription, addressed to her daughters: Dear Maggie and Ltttie, this is my first speech. It was delivered several times immediately after the first Wotlman's Rights Convention. It contains all I knew at that time. I did not speak again for several years. The manuscript has, ever since, been a wanderer through the land. Now, after a separation of nearly eighteen years, I press my first-born to my heart once more. As I recall my younger days, I weep over the apathy and indifference of women concerning their own degradation. I give this manuscript to my precious daughters, in the hope that they will finish the work which I have begun." Miss Susan B. Anthony -a well-known, indefatigable and life-long advocate of temperance, anti-slavery, and woman's riights- -has been, since 1850, Mrs. Staniton's intimate associate in reformatory lahbors. These celebrated women are of about equal ages, but of the most opposite characteristics, and illustrate the theory of counterparts in affection I)y entertaining for each other a friendship of extraordinary strength. IMrs. Stanton is a fine writer, but poor executant; Miss Anthony is no writer at all, but a thorough managaer. Both have large brailns and great hearts; neither has any selfish ambition for celebrity; but each vies with the other in a noble enthusiasm for the cause to which they are devoting their lives. Nevertheless, to describe thiem critically, I oug(ht to say that, opposites though they be, each does not so much supplement the other's deficiencies as augment the other's eccentricities. Thus, they often stimulate each other's aggressiveness, and 3i9

Page  350 350 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. at the same time diminish each other's discretion. But whatever may be the imprudent utterances of the one, or the impolitic methods of the other, the animating motives of both, judged by the highest moral standards, are evermore as white as the light. The good which they do is by design; the harm, by accident. These two women, sitting together in their parlor, have, for the last fifteen years, been diligent forgers of all manner of projectiles, from fireworks to thunderbolts, and have hurled them, with unexpected explosion, into the midst of all manner of educational, reformatory, and religious conventions - sometimes to the pleasant surprise and half-welcome of the members; more often to the bewilderment and prostration of numerous victims; and, in a few signal instances, to the gnashing of angry men's teeth. I know of no two more pertinacious incendiaries in the whole country! Nor will they themselves deny the charge. In fact, this noise-making twain are the two sticks of a drum for keeping up what Daniel Webster called "the rub-a-dub of agitation." The practice of going before a legislature to present the claims of an unpopular cause has been more common in many other States than in New York; most conmmon, perhaps, in Massachusetts. With the single exception of Mrs. Lucy Stone, - a noble and gifted woman, to whom her sisterhood owe an affectionate gratitude, not merely for an eldquence that has charmed thousands of ears, but for practical efforts in abolishing laws oppressive to their sex,- I believe that Mrs. Stanton has appeared oftener before a State legislature than can be said of any of her co-laborers. She has repeatedly addressed the Legislature of New York at Albany, and, on these occasions, has always been honored by the presence of a brilliant audience, and has always spoken with dignity and ability. Her chief topics have been the needful changes in the laws relating to intemperance, erlucatiop,

Page  351 MRS EI.IZABETH CADY STANTON. divorce, slavery, and suffrage. "Yes, gentlemen," said she, in her address of 1854, "we, the daughters of the revolu tionary heroes of'76, demand at your hands the redress of our grievances,- a revision of your State constitution, - a new code of laws." At the close of that grand and glowing argument, a lawyer who had listened to it, and who knew and revered Mrs. Stanton's father, shook hands with the orator and said, " Madam, it was as fine a production as if it had been made and pronounced by Judge Cady himself." This, to the daughter's ears, was sufficiently high praise. I have carefully read several of Mrs. Stanton's other ad.dresses before the New York Legislature, and have felt, in reading them, that so able a woman ought long ago to have been eligible to membership in a body whom she thus so admirably addressed. But there will come a day - and Heaven speed it! -when a legislature, or a congress, will not be considered as representing the whole people of a State, or of a nation, until women as well as men shall sit as its duly chosen members, -until women as well as men shall be expected to make, as they now are to obey, the laws of the land, - until women as well as men shall be held politically responsible for the moral and Christian government of the republic. "Ye are members one of aiiothler," says the wise' book; and the saying is no more true of the family than of society, - no more true of the church than of the state. It has taken a terrific contest (and not yet completed) to achieve the political rights of American citizens without distinction of color. But from this point onward - without an appeal to arms, and without a testimony of blood - a more peaceful but not less victorious stru,ggle is in due time to achieve the political rights of American citizens without distinction of sex. 351

Page  352 352 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. In a cabinet of curiosities, I have laid away, as an interesting r,elic, a little white ballot, two inches square, and inscribed: For Representative in Congress, ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. MIrs. Stanton is the only woman in the United States who, as yet, has been a candidate for Congress. In conformity with a practice prevalent in sonme parts of this country, and very prevalent in England, she nominated herself. The public letter in which she proclaimed herself a candidate was as follows: t TO THE ELECTORS OF THE EIGHTH CONGRESSIONAL DISTRICT. "Although, by the Constitution of the State of New York, woman is denied the elective firanchise, yet she is eligible to office; therefore I present myself to you as a candidate for Representative to Congress. Belocnging to a disfranchised class, I have no political antecedents to recommend me to your support, but my creed is free epeech, free press, free 97en, and flee t1ade, -the cardinal points of Democracy. Viewing all questions from the stand-point of principle rather than expediency, there is a fixed uniform law, as yet unrecognized by either of the leading parties, governing alike the social and political life of men and nations. The Republican party has occasionally a clear vision of personal rights, though in its protective policy it seems wholly blind to the rights of property and interests of commerce. While it recognizes the duty of benevolence between man and man, it teaches the narrowest selfishness in trade between nations. The Democrats, on tihe contrary, while holding sound and liberal principles in trade

Page  353 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. and commerce, have ever in their political affiliations maintained the idea of class and caste among, men,-an idea wholly at variance with the genius of our free institutions and fatal to a high civilization. One party fails at one point and one at another. In asking your suffrages - believing alike in free men and free trade-I could not represent either party as now constituted. "Ncvertlhless, as an Independent Candidate, I desire an election at this time, as a rebuke to the dominant party for its retrogressive legislation in so amending the Constitution as to make invidious distinctions on the ground of sex. That instrument recognizes as persons all citizens who obey the laws and support the State, and if the Constitutions of the several States were brought into harmony with the broad principles of the Federal Constitution, the women of the nation would no longer be taxed without representation, or governed without their consent. One word should not be added to that great charter of rights to the insult or inljury of the humblest of our citizens. I would gladly have a voice and vote in the Fortieth Congress to demand universal szfff)'age, that thus a republican form of government might be secured to every State in the Union. " If the party now in the ascendency makes its demand for n nero suffra,ge' in good faith, on the ground of natural right, and because the highest good of the State demands that the republican idea be vindicated, on no principle of justice or safety can the women of the nation be ignored. "In view of the fact that the Freedmen of the South and the millions of foreigners now crowding our Western shores, most of whom represent neither property, education, nor civilization, are all, in the progress of events, to be enfranchised, the best interests of the nation demand that we outweigh this incoming pauperism, ignorance, and degradation, with the wealth, education, and refinement of the women of the ro, 23 0 353 -h

Page  354 354 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. public. On the high ground of safety to the nation and jus tice to its citizens, I ask your support in the coming election. "ELIZAB13ETH CADY STANTON. " NEW YORK, October 10, 1866." The "New York Herald "- though, of course, with no sincerity, since that journal is never sincere in anythingwarmly advocated Mrs. Stanton's election. "A lady of fine presence and accomplishments in the House of Representatives," it said (and said truly), "would wield a wholesome influence over the rough and disorderly elements of that body." The "Anti-slavery Standard," with genuine commendation, said, "The electors of the Eighth District would honor themselves and do well by the country in giviing her a triumphant election." The other candidates in the same district were Mr. James Brooks, Democrat, and Mr. LeGrand B. Cannon, Republican. The result of the election was as follows: Mr. Brooks received thirteen thousand eight hundred and sixteen votes, Mr. Cannon eight thousand two hundred and ten, and Mrs. Stanton twenty-four. It will be seen that the number of sensible people in the district was limited! The excellent lady, in looking back upon her successful defeat, regrets only that she did not, before it became too late, pro-cure the photographs of her two dozen unknown friends. In the summer of 1867, the people of Kansas were to debate, and in the autumn to decide, the most novel, noble, and beautiful question ever put to a popular vote in the United States,the question of adopting a newv Constitution whose peculiarity was that it extended the elective franchise not merely to "'white male citizens," but to those of what Frederick Douglass calls "the less fashionable color," and to those also of what Horace Greeley calls "the less muscular sex." Mrs. Lucy Stone and Miss Olympia Browni-helped by other ladies less famous, and by several earnest men, including the IIon. Samuel C. Pomeroy, Senator of the United States 4 I 0

Page  355 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. made public speeches at prominent places in that State, urg ing the people to give the new idea a hospitable welcome at the polls. This canvass was as chivalrous as a tournament, and abounded, from beginning to end, with romantic inci dents. To hear from the lips of Mrs. Stone (in that delight fill eloquence of conversation which she has never surpassed on the platform), a recital of the most serious or the most comical of these, is as pleasant an entertainment as a supper table chat can well afford. Toward the close of that memo rable campaign, Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony, like a reserved force, joined themselves to the general battle. Accidentally associated with them (first with Miss Anthony and afterwards with Mrs. Stanton) was Mr. George Francis Train, - soldier of fortune, hero of Fenianism, martyr to creditors, guest of jails, and candidate for the presidency. The "Tribune" has admiringly called Mr. Train "a charlatan and blatherskite." Ampler justice compels me to add that he is, nevertheless, of all mountebanks the most amiable, and of all clowns the most innocent. These women of substance and this manl of fioth formed in Kansas a coalition which provokecl their opponents to smiles, and their friends to regrets. Anxious watchers of the progress of the good cause were apprehensive that the flighltiness of Mr. Train's speeches would bring the new question into disrepute. But the history of reforms in all countries, and especially in this, has shown that neither the wildest friends nor the fiercest enemies of a great idea can any more trample it under their feet tlhan if they had trodden on a sunbeam. The result of the vote on the lnewv Constitution was flatterinlg beyond the most sanguine expectation. No wise observer of the signs of the times had looked; for the adoption of that radical instrument, but only for a generous minority in its support. The figures stood nine thousand for, and nineteen thousand against. I have never met any student of Americaln politics who was not -reatly sur 355

Page  356 35G EMINENT WOMEN O} THE AGE. prised thus to find that one-third of thle voters in any State of the Union were sufficiently advanced in opinion to demand at the ballot-box the political equality of the sexes. If the antislavery party in Massachusetts, like the woman's suffrage party in Kansas, had received, on a first trial at the polls, one-thlird of the votes cast, the early abolitionists would have shouted for joy, and have rung their church-bells for a jubilee. Whether the vote in Kansas was increased or diminished by ]Mr. Train's harangues, I am unable to say. But it is proper to say that the anti-slavery movement, gathering, as it did, to its annual platforms, many of the greatest as well as some of the shallowest of human brains; and the woman's suffrage movement, constantly repeating, as it does, these same phenomena, thereby furnish to the world a magnificent proof of the universality of those great ideas which thus make known their power upon all classes of human beings, great and small, wise and simple, sane and crazy. God has ordained that the noble army of reformers, while marshalled by the choicest spirits of the age, should give honorable rank also to Tag, Rag, and Bobtail. I can see no reason why the gifted and anointed leaders of great movements should decline to make common cause with any and all who are willing to work for the com mnon end. After the election in Kansas, Mrs. Stanton, Miss Anthony, and Mr. Train made a slow progress eastward, stopping at the chief cities on their way, and addressing public meetings on woman's rights. These meetings provoked merited criticism on account of the performances of Mr. Train, who amused his audiences with the capers of a harlequin. The previous substantial reputatioi,of the two ladies, as earnest reformers, was, on this account, greatly shaken. And yet their own speeches, on all these occasions, were grave, earnest, and impressive,- always worthy of their authors and of the cause. It was, therefore, supposed that the grotesque

Page  357 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. partnership would be only temporary, but it proved to )be permanent. By the time the three travellers had reached New York, they had projected a weekly journal, which made its appearance at the beginningD of 1868, under the topsyturvyingo title of "The Revolution;" edited by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Parker Pillsbury, and published by Susan B. Anthony. Like Jupiter Tonans in the rainy season, this sheet always thunders. It is the stormiest of journals. Its pages, as one turns them over, seem to crinkle, flutter, and snap with electric heats. Examine almost any number of "The Revolution," and it will be found the strangest mixture of sense and nonsense known anywhere in American journalism,- a rag-bag of the most incongruous topics. The articles signed "E. C. S." and "P. P." are full of force and fire, - seldom commonplace or tame. Mr. Pillsbury has a gorgeous and sombre imagination, which, when it plays about ally subject that call bear its strong colors, makes some of his best essays truly magnificent. Mrs. Stanton, who is always in high animal spirits, and who, like a ripe grape, carries a whole summer's sunshine in her blood, fills her most serious articles with filn, frolic, and satire, and, even iii her most humorous escapades, shows a rare vein of tenderness, pathos, and eloquence. She so abounds in metaphors and pithy phrases that a characteristic article from her peln is like a Chinese jar of chow-chow, - filled with little lumps of citron, apricot, and ginger, all swiming in a sweet and biting, syrup. The political disquisitions of this co-workingo yet non-assimtilating pair are sometimes grand and just, sometimes visionary and absurd, and sometimes outrageous and wicked. Mr. Train and his money-writers dance up and down through one-tlhird of each week's space in the paper, and hold a high carnival of balderdash. One particular colntribution, kept up every week, is made so to coruscate with outlandish nutions, comments, and criticisms, that it remiind 357

Page  358 358 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. one of an old barn-door in a dark night, scrawled over, in phosphorus, with "gorgonos, hydras, and chimeras dire." But in speaking thus freely of this conglomerate sheet, - a journal, which, on its present plan, can never take a respectable rank among the influential presses of the counltry,- I must honorably say, on the other hand, that some of the noblest thoughts and utterances pertinent to this dclay and generation, ringing words for liberty, justice, and womanhood,- glowing, rebukes of false customs, social tyrannies, and degrading conventionalities,- eloquent appeals for a more liberal civil polity, and a more equitable social order, - fervid aspirations toward whatever dignifies human nature and purifies the immortal soul, - these, too, "thoughts that breathe and words that burn,"- are spread week by week upon the pages of "The Revolution," and from no brain oftener than from the fiery, wayward, scornful, sympathetic, and Christian soul of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. I may now paint her features, and sumi up her character. MIrs. Stanton's face is thought to resemble Martha Washington's, but is less regular and more animated; her hair early gray, and now frosty white - falls about her head in thick clusters of curls; her eyes twinkle with amiable mischief; her voice, though hardly musical, is mellow and agreeable; her figure is of the middle height, and just stout enou,gh to suggtest a preference for short walks rather than for long. In reality, however, she can walk like an Englishwoman, though, if, dutring a stroll in the street, some jest sets her to laughing, she is forced to halt, cover her countenance with her veil, and shake contagiously till the spasm be past. The costume that most becomes her (and in which her historic portrait ought to be garmented) is a blue silk dress and a red India shawl, - an array, which, topped with her magnificent white hair, makes her a patriotic embodiment of" red, white, and blue."

Page  359 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. Her gift of gifts is conversation. Her throne of queenship is not the official chair of the Woman's Rights Convention (though she always presides with dignity and ease), but is rather a seat at the social board, where the company are elderly conservative gentlemen, who combine to argue her down. I think she was never argued down in her life. Go into a fruit-orchard, jar the ripe and laden trees one after another, and not a greater shower of plums, clherries, and pomegranates will fall about your head, than the witticisms, anecdotes, and repartees which this bounteous woman sheds down in her table-talk. House-keeping, and babies, free trade and temperance, woman's suffrage and the "white' male citizen, "- these are her favorite themes. Many a person, on spending a delightful evening in her society, has gone away, saying, "Well, that is Madam de Stael alive again." Never a human being had a kindlier nature than Mrs. Stanton's. Pity is her chief vice; charity, her besetting sin. She has not the heart to see a chicken killed, or a child punished. If robbed of all her property, she could not endure to have sentence passed on the thief. When a wretch does wrong, she is apt to think his act not so much his own fault, as the fault of the law under which he lives. A judge punishes the offender, and lets the law go uncondemned; but this judge of jutldg,es lets the offender go free, and condemns the law instead. On the one hand, her sense of justice is so sensitive, and, on the other, her tender-heartedness is so excessive, that she compounds for pardoning the criminal by attackiing all those usages of society which have conspired to lure him to his crime. Thus, seeing a man drunken in the streets, she does not chide the culprit so much as she denounces the sale of liquor; seeing a seamstress underpaid, she does not denounce the meanness of the employer so much as the narrow range of women's employments; seeing( a widow cheated out of her inheritance, she would not so eagerly seek to punish 359

Page  360 360 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the scoundrel as to secure woman's suffrage for womanl's self protection. It is a settled maxim with me," she says, "that the existing public sentiment on any subject is wrong." Accordingly, as against the customary, stridgent laws of divorce, she holds to the doctrine of John Milton; as against the prevailing tariffs, she argues vehemently for free trade; as against oldfashioned religious opinions, she inclines to an unchecked free-thinking; and as against the common notion of what constitutes woman's sphere, she holds that woman's sphere is to be widened unto equal greatness with man's. If it be supposed that, in all I his, she desires to make woman less womanly, such a suppositi( ii is unjust. It is because, under the present canons of society, womanl's nature is denied its true growth, defriauded of its true liberty, and defeated of its true end and aim, that Mrs. Stanton, being a woman herself, so earnestly tries to take woman's feet out of the Chinese shoes of dwarfing, custom,- to rescue her from her present constrained position in a restrictive social order,- to inspire her toward a faiirer ideal of womanhood, - to restore her to her own truer self,- and to present her back once more to God. Mrs. Stanton's knowledge of human nature in its various ranges, and of human life in its various experiences, has been as rich, varied, and profound as often falls to the lot of any human being. The sacred lore of motherhood is to her a familiar study. Five sons and two daughters sit around her table, all as proud of their mother as if she were a queen of Fairyland, and they her pages in waiting. Drinkinig not seldom at the fountain of sorrow, she has found, in its bitter waters, strength for her soul. Religious and worshipful by constitution, she has cast off in her later life the superstitions of her earlier, but has never lost her childhood's faith in God. Society being (as she looks at it) full of hollowness and falsity, she sometimes yearns for its reformation as if her

Page  361 MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. heart would break, - the cause of woman's elevation being with her not merely a passion but a religion. She would willingly give her body to be burned, for the sake of seeing her sex enfranchised. But over all this aching and restless earnestness of her inward life nature has kindly drawn a countenance of sunny smiles, a perpetual good-humor, and an irresistible flow of spirits; so that, as she faces the world, she is one of the most fascinating, exhaustless, and perennial of companions; and, as she turns away from it, and faces God alone, she offers to him a soul whose very sorrows, disappointments, and hopes deferred have long ago wrought within her a solemn, cheerful, and immortal peace. Nothing in her outward career-nothing in her representative positionnothing, in her gayety and wit-nothing in the whole cluster of those fine intellectual faculties that make her one of the ablest women of our day -nothing in any part of her mind, character, or life is so truly admirable as the one, central characteristic quality of moral energy, which, like a hidden and glowing ember, ignites within her a fiery indignation against all forms of oppression, a sacred love of liberty and justice, a proud reverence for human nature, even in its lowliest fortunes, and a perpetual and defiant appeal from the falseness of society to the justice of God. 0 361

Page  362 . EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. THE WOMAN'S RIGHTS MOVEMENT AND ITS CHAMPIONS IN THE UNITED STATES. BY ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. WE may date the Woman's Rights cause proper, from the division in the anti-slavery organization in 1840; though before that time, Frances Wright, an Englishwoman of rare gifts both as a writer and speaker, had visited this country, and addressed large audiences, demanding at that early day all that the champions of woman's rights now claim. She was followed by Ernestine L. Rose, a native of Poland, -a woman of great beauty, refinement, and cultivation, - of generous impulses, liberal views, and oratorical power. She came to this country in 1836, addressed large audiences in Charleston, South Carolina, and in Detroit, Michigan, on "The Science of Government." When it was announced in those cities, that a woman was to speak on such a theme, men made themselves merry at her presumption; but, after listening to her able exposition of the republican idea, leading men came to her, and, with marked respect, complimented her successful effort. She was among the first who agitated the property rights of married women in the State of New York. As early as 1838 she circulated petitions on that subject, which were presented by Judge Hertell in the Legislature. She has been one of the leaders in the Woman's Righlts movement 362

Page  363 SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE. since that time, and spoken at all the annual conventions. The active part the women of this country had taken in the anti-slavery cause, beginning, in 1830, had prepared them for this lnew demand. Ill those early organizations woman had an equal voice with man. She did more than sew pilncLIshionls, and ask alms; she proclaimed the living truths of the gospel of freedom, in public assemblies, as well as at the hearthstone,- to grave and reverend seniors in halls of legislation, as well as to her husband at home. SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE. In 1836 Sarah and Angelina Grimke, daulghters of a wealthy planter in South Carolina, emancipated their slaves, and came North to lecture on the evils of slavery. They were high-toned, noble women, well educated, of keen moral perceptions, and deeply religious natures. The one desire in their childhood and youth had beeni to escape the daily torture of witnessilng the cruelties inflicted upon the slave; to get beyond the abominations they saw no way to end. Angelina, the younger sister, was a natural orator. Fresh from the land of bondag,e, there was a fervor in her speech that electrified her listeners, and drew crowds wherever she went. She was tall, delicately organized, with a sad, thoughtful face, dark hair and eyes, with great depth of expression. Her voice was rich, clear, and strong, and could easily fill any hall. Both sisters were ready writers, and, while lecturing through the North, wrote for the press, on slavery and woman's rig,hts. Sarah published a book reviewing the Bible arg,uments, which the clergy were then making in all our pulpits, to prove that the degradation of the slave and woman were 363

Page  364 364 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. alike in harmony with the expressed will of God. In May, 1837, a National Woman's Anti-slavery Convention was called in New York, in which eight States were represented by seventy-one delegates. The meetings were ably sustained through two days. The different sessions were opened by prayer and reading of the Scriptures, by the womien themselves, and a devout, earnest, and Christian spirit pervaded all the proceedings. The debates, resolutions, speeches, and appeals were fully equal to those in ally conventions held by the men of that period. Ang,elina Grimke was appointed in this convention to prepare an appeal for the slaves to the people of the free States, and a letter to John Quincy Adams, thanking him for his services in defending the right of petition for women and slaves, qualified with the regret that, by expressing himself adverse to the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia," he did not sustain the cause of freedom and of God. What man has done as the result of war, women asked to prevent war thirty years ago. In 1838 she was married to Theodore D. Weld, and settled in New Jersey. She is the mother of one daughter and two sons. Among those who took part in the debates of that convention, we find the names of Lydia Maria Child, Mary Grew, IHenrietta Sargoent, Sarah Pugh, Abby Kelley, Mary S. Parker, of Boston, who was president of the convention, Anne Weston, Deborah Shaw, Martha Storrs, Mrs. A. L. Cox, Rebecca B. Spring,, and Abigail Hopper Gibbons, a daughter of that noble Quaker, Isaac T. Hopper. Though early married, and the mother of several children, her life has been one of constant activity and self-denial for the public good. Those who know her best can testify to her many acts of benevolence and mercy, working alike for the unhappy slave, the unfortunate of her own sex, the children on Randall's Island, and the suffering soldiers in our late war.

Page  365 ABBY KELLEY.-MARY GREW. ABBY KELLEY, A young Quakeress, made her first appearance on the anti-slavery platform. She was a tall, fine-looking girl, with a large, well-shaped head, regular features, dark hair, blue eyes, and a sweet, expressive countenance. She was a person of clear moral perceptions, and deep feeling. She spoke extemporaneously, always well, at times with great eloquence and power. As soon as the rare gifts as orators, that both she and Angelina Grimnke displayed in the women's meetings, were noised abroad, the men, one by one, asked permission to come into their meetiings, and thus, through man's curiosity, they soon found themselves speaking to promiscuous audiences. For a period of thirty years Abby IKelley has spoken on the subject of slavery. She has travelled up and down the length and breadth of this land,- alike in winter's cold and summer's heat, mid scorn, ridicule, violence, and mobs, suffering all kinds of persecution, -still speaking, whenever and wherever she gained audience, in the open air, in school-house, barn, depot, church, or public hall, onl weekday, or Sunday, as she found opportunity. In 1845 she married Stephen S. Foster, and soon after, they purchased a farm in Worcester, Massachusetts, where, with an only daughter, she has lived several years in retirement. Having lost her voice by constant and severe use, she gave up lecturing while still in her prime. MARY GREW, The datughter of Rev. Henry Grew, of Philadelphia, has been for thirty years one of the ablest and most faithful workers both in the anti-slavery and woman's rights cause. She is a cousin of Wendell Phillips. Being, a woman of sound judgment, and great general information, she has been 360

Page  366 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. one of his most reliable friends and counsellors, in planning and executing his lifelong work. She is one of the most terse and finished writers of the age. Her anti-slavery re ports made out annually, and published in "The Anti-slavery Standard," are concise and comprehensive statements of facts and principles governing them. She is a woman of vigorous thought, and high moral principle. Gentle, refined, unobtrusive in manner, she is still a woman of great independence, and self-reliance of character. Being one of the delegates to the WVorld's Anti-slavery Convention, I met her for the first time in London in 1840. I remember how charmed I was to hear her laud our republican institutions, in the presence of boasting Einglishmen, and, in her keen, sarcastic way, express the utmost contempt for the sham and tinsel, the pomp and ceremony of the Old World. I was especially pleased with a little incident that occurred one day, at a larg,e dinner p-rty, at Samuel Gurney's,- a wealthy banker who had a beautiful country-seat near London. Lord Morpeth and the Duchess of Sutherland had been invited to meet a party of Americans there, as they had expressed a wish to see the American abolitionists. As it was a warm, pleasant afternoon in June, we went out on the smooth green lawn, under the shade of some majestic old trees, to hear Lord Morpeth read the reports to the British government from Jamaica. Most of us had been formally presented to the Lord and Lady, but Mr. Grew, havingc, come late, had not yet had the honor of an introduction. Having formed ourselves into a semicircle round his lordship during the reading, at the close Miss Grew took her fa.ther's arm, and, in a cool, self-possessed manner, walked across the intervening, space, and introduced her father to the Duchess of Sutherland, then mistress of the robes, with the same air as she would have presented two plain republicans in her own couitry. Standing near the daughter of Sir Fowell Buxton, she said to me, " What are you American girls made 366

Page  367 IARY GREW. of? Not a girl in all England would have presumed to intro. duce a commoner, to one of such rank as her Grace." "Ah! madam," I replied, "you forget that in our country we are all of noble blood, all heirs apparent to the throne." The women who devoted themselves to the anti-slavery cause in the early days, endured the double odium of being abolitionists, and "women out of their sphere;" hence the men who were engaged in the same cause little knew all the peculiar aggravations and trials of their position. The admiration such women as Angeline Grimke', Ab)by Kelley, and Lucretia Mott, commanded by their presence and eloquence, was well tempered by ridicule and denunciation. The press and the pulpit exhausted the English language to find adcljectives to express their detestation of so horrible a revelation as " a woman out of her sphere." A clerical appeal was issued and sent to all the clergymen in New England, calling on them to denounce in their pulpits this unwomanly and unchristian proceeding. Sermons were preached portraying, in the darkest colors the fearfiul results to the church, the State, and the home, in thius encouraging women to enter public life. It was the opposition of the clergy to woman's speaking and voting in their meetings, that occasioned the first division in "The American Anti-slavery Society." The reports of the meeting held in New York, May, 1840, are worthy the perusal of every philosophical thinker, to see how ridiculously even good conmmon-sense men can talk and act when moved by prejudice rather than principle. The question under debate on that occasion wvas, whether woman should speak and vote in all business matters in their meeting,s. Menl opposed to this went through the audience tiriizg everfy qvoman who agreed with themn to vote ag,ainst it, thus calling on them to do then and there what, withl feivid eloquence, on that very occasion, they had declared a sin against nature and Scripture for them to do anywhere. It 367

Page  368 368 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. was a stormy meeting held that day by the friends of the slave, and, though he still groaned in bondage, it was urged by many that woman's voice should not be heard in his behalf. Whilst with one hand they strove to loose the chains that clanked on the rice plantations in Georgia, with the other they tried to force woman back into the narrow niche where barbarism had found her. So partially does truth illutmine some minds that even the colored manl was found voting, to exclude woman from an anti-slavery organization. IHistory, however, records that William Lloyd Garrison, ever sound on questions of human rights, carried the resolution by one hundred majority in favor of woman's right to speak and vote in their meetings. At this crisis a World's Anti-slavery Convention was called to meet in London. Several American organizations saw fit to send women as delegates to represent them in that august assembly. But, after going three thousand miles to attend a World's Convention, it was discovered that woman formed no part of the constituent elements of the moral world. In summoning the friends of the slave from all parts of the two hemispheres, to meet in London, John Bull never dreamed that woman, too, would answer to his call, though the idea of immediate emancipation was first published by Elizabeth Herrick, an English woman, in a well-reasoned pamphlet in 1824. Accordingly, on the opening of the convention ill London, June 12th, 1840, the delegates from the Massachusetts and Pennsylvania societies were denied their seats. The delegation consisted of Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Abby Iimbner, Elizabeth Neale, Sarah Pugh, from Peinnsylvania; Emily Winslow, Abby Southwick, and Anne Greene Phillips, firom Massachusetts. This sacrifice of human rights, by men who had assembled from all quarters of the globe to proclaim universal emancipation, was offered up in the presence of such women as Lady Noel Byron, Harriet Martineau, Eliza

Page  369 ANNE GREENE PHILLIPS. beth Fry, Mairy Howitt, and Ainna Jamieson. The dele-gates had been persuasively asliked to waive their claims that the harmony of the convention might not be disturbed by a qutestion of such minor importance. But through theii champion, Wendell Phillips (who was then a youngI man, and brave too, I thought, to advocate so unpopular an idea almost alone in such an assembly), they maintained that as they had been delegated by large and influential organizations, they must press their claims and thus discharge their duty, not only to those whom they represented, but to the speechless victims of American slavery. Thus the debate on this question was forced upon them, and many distinguished gentlemen of France, England, and America took part in the discussion, which lasted through one entire day. ANNE GREENE PHILLIPS. As we stood in the vestibule of Freemason's Hiall that morning, talking over the coming event, I saw the wife of Wendell Phillips for the first time. Her earnest, impressive manner arrested my attention at once. She had just returned from her bridal tour on the continent. and was in the zenith of her beauty. She had a profusion of dark-browvn hlair, large, loving blue eyes, and regular features. She was tall, graceful, and talked with great fluency and force. Hlerwhole soul seemed to be in the pending issue. As we were about to enter the convention she laid her hand most emphatically on he r husba nd's shoulder and said, " Now, Wendell, don't be simmy-sammy to-day, but brave as a lion;" and he obeyed the injunction. Most of the speeches that day were narrow and bigoted, setting forth men's prejudices without touching the principle under consideration, and, when the vote was taken, among the few who stood by principle, were Daniel O'Con 24 369

Page  370 370 EMI,NENT WOMEN OF THE AG,E. nell, Dr. Bowring,, Henry B. Stanton, George Thompsoin, and Wendell Phillips. William Lloyd Garrison did not reach England until the third day of the convention, having been unfortunately becalmed at sea. When he learned that Massachusetts women had been denied their rights in the convention he declined to take his seat as a member of that body. His anti-slavery principles being too broad to restrict human rights to color or sex, he took his seat in the gallery, and through all those days looked down on the convention. Thomas Clarkson was chosen president, but he being too old and feeble to endure the fatigue, Joseph Sturge, the celebrated Quaker merchant, presided over the deliberations. Sitting near Mrs. Mott in the convention, I miscievously suggested to her one day a dangerous contingency. With a Quaker in the chair," said I, "suppose, in spite of the vote of excommunication, the spirit should move you to speak, what couldthe chairman do, and which would you obey, - the spirit, or the convention?" She promptly replied, "Where the spirit of God is, there is liberty." The general indignation felt by the advanced minds among the women of England, France, and America, and the puerile tone of the debates on this question, gave birth to what is called the Woman's Rights movement on both continents. The women of En,gland soon after established a Woman's Rights journal, and petitioned Parliament for their rights of property. Their demands were ably maintained by Lord Brougham in the House of Peers. The French women, too, soon after established a journal, so liberal and republican in its sentiments, that they were compelled to publish it in Italy, though it was clandestinely circulated in France. At the same time Frederika Bremer, in her popular novels, was ridiculing the creeds and codes and customs of her country, and thus undermining, the laws of Sweden in regard to women, which, in many particulars, were soon after essentially modified

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Page  371 LUCRETIA MOTT. LUCRETIA MOTT. It was in London that I first met Lucretia Mott. We chanced to stop at the same house, with a party of Americans, who had comne to attend the "World's Convention." Seated by her at the dinner-table I was soon oblivious to everything but the lovely Quakeress, though a bride, with my husband by my side. She was then in her prime, small in stature, slightly built, with a large head, high, square forehead, remarkably fine face, regular features, dark hair and eyes. She was gentle and refined in her manners, and conversed with earnestness and ease. There were several clergymen at the table that day, who, in the course of conversation, rallied Mrs. Mott on her views of woman. She calmly parried all their attacks, -now by her quiet humor turning the laugh on them, and then by her earnestness and dignity silencing their ridicule and sneers. Though a stranger, I could not resist saying all the good things I thought on her side of the question, and I shall never forget the look of recognition she gave me when she saw that I already comprehended the problem of woman's rights and wrongs. She was the first liberalminded woman I had ever met, and nothing in all Europe interested me as she did. We were soon fast firiends, and were often rallied on our seeming devotion to each other. I was never weary listening to her conversation. On one occasion, with a large party, we visited the British Museum, where it is supposed all people go to see the wonders of the world. On entering, Mrs. Mott and myself sat down near the door to rest for a few moments, telling the party to go on, that we would follow. They accordingly exl)lored all the departments of curiosities, supposing we were slowly following at a distance; but when they returned to the entrance, after an absence of three hours, there we sat in the same I 371

Page  372 EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE. spot, having seen nothing but each other, wholly absorbed in questions of tlheology and social life. She had told me of the doctrines and divisions among QuLakers, of the inward lilght, of Elias I-Iicks, of Chlanning, of a religion of life, and of Marly WVollstonecraft and her social theories. I had been reading, Coni)e's Constitution of MIan, and Moral Philosophy, and Channing's Works, and had already thotught on all these questions; but I bad never heard a woman talk what, as a Scotch Presbyterian, I had sca.rcely dared to think. On the following, Sunday I went to hear Mrs. Mott preach in a Unitarian church. Though I had never heard a woman speak, yet I had long believed she had tlhe right to do so, and hlad often expressed the idea in private circles; butt when at last I saw a woman rise up in the pulpit and preach as earnestly and impressively as Mrs. Mott always does, it seemed to me like the realization of an oft-repeated happy dream. The day we visited the Zoo5log,ical Gardens, as we were adcmiring the gorgeouts plumage of some beautiful birds, one of the gentlemen remarked: You see, Mrs. Mott, our Heavenly Father believes in brig,ht colors. How mulch it would take from our pleasure if all the birds were dressed in drab!" Yes," said she, " but immortal beings do not depend on their feathers for their attractions. With the infinite variety of the human ftace and form, of thoulght, feeling, and affection, we do not need gorgeotis apparel to distilgutlishl us. Moreover, if it is fitting that womran should dress in every color of the rainbow, why not man also? Clergymeln wvithl their black clothes and white cravats are quite as monotonous as the Quakers." Owing to her liberal views, Mrs. Mott was shunned by the Orthodox Quakers of England, though courted by the literati and nobility. I have seen her by the side of the Duchess of Sutherland, conversing on the political questions 372

Page  373 LUCRETIA MOTT. of the time with a grace and eloquence that proved her in manners the peer of the first woman ill Englacnd, though educated inl Quaker austerity, under ovr plain republican institutions. From the following extracts from Mrs. Mott's memoranda, the reader will get aln insi,ht into the movinig and governing principles of her calm, consistent, and beautiful life. EXTRACTS FROM MIEMORANDA, BY LUCRETIA MOTT. A native of the Island of Nantucket, - of the Coffins and Macys on the father's side, and of the Folgers on the mother's; through them related to Dr. Franklin. Born in 1793. During childhood was made actively useful to my mother, who, in the absence of my father, ol a long voyage, was engaged in mercantile business, often going to Boston and purchasing goods in exchainge for oil and candles, the staple of the island. The exercise of womeni's talents in this line, as well as the general care which devolved upon them in the absence of their husbands, tended to develop their intellectual powers and streingthlen them mentally and physically. " In 1804 my fathler's family removed to Boston, and in the public anld private schools of that city I miingled with all classes without distinction. My parents were of the religious society of Friends, and endeavored to preserve in their children the peculiarities of that sect, as well ias to instil its more import,ant principles. My father had t desire to mnake his dau,ghters useful. At fourteen years of age I was placed with a yoLunger sister, at the Friends' Bo.arding-Slchool, in DuteliessColunty, State of New York, and continued there for more than two years wvithlout returiingi home. At fifteen, one of the teachers leaviong the school, I was chosen as an assistant, in her place. Pleased with the promotion, I strove 373

Page  374 374 LMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. hard to give satisfaction, and was gratified, on leaving the school, to have an offer of a situation as teacher, if I was disposed to remain, and informed that my services should entitle another sister to her education without chaige. My father was, at that time, in successful business in Boston; but with his views of the importance of training a woman to usefulness, he and my mother gave their consent to another year being devoted to that institution. In the sl)riiig of 1809, I joined our family ill Philadelphia, after thleir removal there. At -the early age of eighteen, I mirried Jamies M'ott, of New York, - an attachment formed while at the boarding-school. He came to Philadelphia and entered into business with my father. The ftletutation in the commercial world for several years following our marriage, owing, to the embargo, and the war of 1812, the death of my father, and the support of a f-amily of five children devolving on my mother, surrounded us with difficulties. We resorted to various modes of obtaining a comfortable living; at one time engaged in the retail dry goods business, then resumed the charge of a school, and for another year was e,ngaged in teaching. These trials, in early life, were not without their good effect in disciplining the mind, and leading it to set a just estimate on worldly pleasures. I, however, alwatys loved the good, in childhood desired to do the right, and had no faith in the generally received idea of human depravity. My sympathy was early enlisted for the poor slave, by the class-books read in our schools, and the pictures of the slave-ship, as published by Clarkson. The ministry of Elias Hicks and others, on the subject of the unrequited labor of slaves, and their example in refusing the products of slave labor, all had their effect in awakening a strongO feeling in their behalf. The unequal condition of woman in society also early impressed my mind. Leatriiing, while at school, that the charge for the education of girls was

Page  375 LUCRETIA MOTT. the same as that for boys, and that when they became teachers, women received but half as much as men for their services, the injustice of this was so apparent, that I early resolved to claim for my sex all that an impartial Creator had bestowed. At twenty-five years of age, surrounded with a little famlily and many eares, I felt called to a more public life of devotion to duty, and engag(ed in the ministry in our Society, receiving every encourag,ement from those ill authority, until a separation among us, in 1827, when my convictions led me to adhere to the sufficiency of the light within us, resting on truth as authority, rather than'taking authority for truth.' The popular doctrine of human depravity never commended itself to my reason or conscience. I'searched the Scriptures daily,' finding a construction of the text wholly different from that which was pressed upon our acceptance. The highest evidence of a sound fithl being the practical life of the Christian, I have felt a far greater interest in the moral movements of our age than in any theological discussion. The temperance reform early engaged my attention, and for more than twenty years I have practised total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks. The cause of peace has had a share of my efforts, leading to the ultra non-resistance ground, - thlat no Christian can consistently uphold, and actively engage in and support a government based on the sword, or relying on that as an ultimate resort. The oppression of the working-classes by existing monopolies, and the lowness of wages, often engaged my attention; and I have held many meetings with them, and heard their appeals with compassion, and a great desire for a radical change in the system which makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. The various associations and communities tending to greater equality of condition have had from me a hearty God-speed. But the millions of down-trodden slaves 375

Page  376 376 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. in our land being, the greatest sufferers, the most oppressed class, I have felt bound to plead their cause, in season and out of season, to endeavor to put my soul in their souls' stead, and to aid, all in my power, in every righ,t effort for their immediate emancipation. This duty was impressed upon me at the time I consecrated myself to that gospel which anoints'to preach deliverance to the captive,''to set at liberty them that are bruised.' From that time the duty of abstinence as far as practicable from slave-grown products was so clear, that I resolved to make the effort'to provide things honest' in this respect. Since then our fmtrnily has been supplied with free-labor groceries, and, to some extent, with cottonI goods unstained by slavery. The labors of the devoted Benjamin LunIdy, and his'Genius of iUniversal Emancipation' published in Baltimore, added to the untirilng exertions of Clarkson, Wilberforce, and others in Ellgland, including Elizabeth Heyrick, whose work on slavery aroused them to a change in their mode of action, and of WVilliam Llolyd Garrison, in Boston, prepared the way for a convention in Philadelphia, ill 1833, to take the ground of immediate, not gradual, emancipation, and to inmpress the duty of unconditional liberty, withlout expatriation. In 1834 the Philadelphia Female A. S. Society was formed, and, being actively associated in the efforts for the slaves' redemption, I have travelled thousanlds of miles in this country, holding, meetings in somne of the slave States, have been in the midst of mobs and violence, and have shared abundantly in the odium attached to the name of an uncompromising mnodern abolitionist, as well as partaken richly of the sweet return of peace attendant on those who would'undo the heavy burdens and let the oppressed go free, and break every yoke.' "In 1840, a World's Anti-slavery Convention was called in London. Women from Boston, New Yorle, anrd Phila

Page  377 LUCRETIA MOTT. delphia, were delegates to that convention. I was one of the number; but, onl our arrival ill England, our credentials were not accepted because we were women. WAVe were, however, treated with great courtesy and attention, as stiangers, and as women, were admitted to chosen seats as spectators and listeners, while our right of membership was denied, -we were voted out. This brought the Womian question more into view, and an increase of interest in the subject has been the result. In this work, too, I have eingaged heart and hand, as my labors, travels, and public discourses evince. The misrepresentation, ridicule, and abuse heaped upon this, as well as other reforms, do not, in the least, deter me from my duty. To those, whose name is cast out as evil for the truLth's sake, it is a small thing to be jucldged of man's judgmenit. This imperfect sketch may give some idea of the mnode of life of one who has found it'good to be always zealously affected in a good thing.' i My life, in the domestic sphere, has passed much as that of other wives and mothers in this country. I have had six children. Not accustomed to resi,gning, them to the care of a nurse, I was much conlfined to them dulring their infaicy and childhood. Beingo fond of reading, I omitted much unnecessary stitching and ornamental wvork, in the sewing for my fanmily, so that I might have more time for this indulgelnce, and for the improvement of the mind. For novels and lilght reading I never had much taste. The'Ladies Department,' in the periodicals of the day, had no attraction for me." While walking in the streets of London, Mrs. Mott and I resolved on a Woman's Convention, as soon as we returned to America. Accordingly, in the summer of 1848, while she was on a visit to her sister, Martha Wright, of Auburn, I proposed to her, to call a Woman's Rights Convention, at 377

Page  378 378 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Seneca Falls, where I then lived. She consented, and the call was immediately issued in the county papers, an(l we at once prepared resolutions, speeches, and a declaration of sentiments. After much consultation over the declaration, finding, that our fathers had similar grievances to our owvn, and the same number, we decided to adopt the immortal declaratiou of'76 as our model. James Mott - one of nature's noblemen, both inl character and appearance, the huslband of Lucretia -presided at this first convention. Among those who took part in the discussions were Frederick Douglass, Thomas and Mary Ann MeClintock, and their two daugh-tters, Ansel Bascom, Catharine Stebbins, Amy Post, and Martha Wrig,ht. It continued through two days, was well attended, and extensively reported. The declaration was published in nearly every paper in the country, and the nation was colnvulsed with laughter, from 1Maine to Louisiana, thou,gh our demands for suffrage, the right to property, work, and wages were the same that wvise men accept to-day, the same that Henry Ward Beecher preaches in his pulpit, and John Stuart Miill presses on the consideration of the British Parliament. Martha Wright, the sister of Lucretia, took an active part in this convention, and has presided over nearly every convention that has been held iln later days. She is a woman of fine presence, much general information, and rare common sense. Though not a public speaker, she hais been a most efficient worker in our cause. In a recent letter to me, speakingc of her sister, soon after the death of Mr.I MIott, she says, "The strikingl traits of Lucretia's character are remarkable energy, that defies even time, unswerving onlscientiousless, and all those characteristics that are summed up in the few words, love to man, and love to God." "Though much broken by the heavy affliction, that has come to her so unexpectedly, for, frail as she is, she never thought she should survive her strong and vigorous husband, she has borne it

Page  379 CAROLiNE M. SEVERANCE, better than we anticipated." Our next convention was held in Rochester, a few weeks later. Mrs. Amy Post and Mis. Abig,ail Bush made the arrangemenits, and Mrs. Bush presided on the occasion. Mrs. Mott and I were opposed to a woman as president, - this was a step we were not quite prepared for, to have a woman call a promiscuous assembly to order. However, we were out-voted, and we were compelled to admit, at the close, that Mrs. Bush did us all great credit. The meetings were held in the Unitarian church, and created much interest in the city. One very interesting, incident occurred during the moring, session. A newvly married couple, soon after the convention opened, walked slowly up the aisle to the altar, when the groom stepped forward, and asked the president, in a low tone, if the lady with him might have the opportunity to speak. "Passing through the city," he said, they heard of the convention, and haviing but anl hour before leaving, town, she would like to add her voice ill favor of woman's righlts." She was accordingly introduced at once, and made a most eloquent and finished speech of twenty minutes. Whilst she was speaking, the groom remained standing near the altar, hat and cane in hand, reverently gazing on his beautiful bride. When she finished, a profound silence reigned, and they disappeared as quietly and suddenly as they came. Who they were, whence they came, or whither going, we never knew. In 1850 and 1851 several State Conventions were held in Indiana and Ohio. At the convention held at Indianapolis, the moving spirits were Frances D. Gage, and Caroline M. Severance. In a brief sketch of CAROLINE M. SEVERANCE I cannot do better, than to give the reader, what, in her easy, playful way, she writes in a letter to me of herself. I wrote 379

Page  380 380 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. to her asking for facts of her life, telling her there was no escape, that nolens volens she was to be sketched, and it rested Nwith her, whether it should be based wholly on such ail objective view, as one could take hundreds of miles away, or on a subjective view, such as I could get ill being en rctpport withl herself. She chose the latter, as the least of tvwo evils, and frankly tells me what she knows of herself. DEAR FRIEND, - -Isn't this an interesting dilemma to find one's self in? - to be exhibited whether we will or no! One who has arrived at years of discretion, surely, in our free land, to have no chance of a choice, whether to remail incog., or be set on high for all the daws to peck at!'But to this it seems we have come at last,' and, in my extremity, if I may choose nothing else, I surely shall snatch at the chance to say by whom this most undesirable service shall be performed, and I gladly submit to you.' "I have done so little to justify my years, that I might shrink from such a sketch as you propose, with better reason than could influence many of our sex. But lest you should think my humility affectation, I frankly avow that I was born in Canandaiguia, N. Y., in January, 1820, if you consider date and birthplace important to the sketch, of neither "poor or pious parents," although cultivated, conscientious persons. MIy father's name was Orson Seymour, a banker, my mother's name was Caroline M. Clark. I was married in 1840, at Auburn, New York, to T. C. Severance, a banker of Cleveland, Ohio. Neither the world nor my historian would have any particular interest in what I said, or did, after that remarkable event of January 20th, and the good sense of choosing so beautiful a portion of the earth's surface for a birthplace, until the mother of five children, with littlo experience in life, and less in society, having devoted myself to home and books, I was chosen, in 1853, to read beforo

Page  381 CAROLINE M. SEVERANCe. the Mercantile Library Association, the first lecture ever delivered by a woman, in Cleveland, Ohio, where I had resided since marriage. I had been already identified with the Woman's PRighlts movement, having attended conventions in Illdiana, Ohio, and New York; and this accounts for mily invitation on this occasion. I cannot tell you how long I hesitated to accept this invitation; the more I 1plead my unfitness, the more I was pressed with a sense of my duty, and at last I wrote the most exhaustive essay I could on the sublject, to make sure, for once, that my city should have all that could be said on the subject. An i.mmense audience listened, thlrough an houtr and three quarters, with becoming silence and respect. This lecture I repeated several times, in different parts of the State. After that, the Womanl's Rights Association asked me to prepare a tract for their circulation. Later I was appointed to present a memorial to the Legislature, askilng suffrage, and such amendments to the State laws of Ohio as should place woman on a civil equality with man. In 1855 we camie to Mlassachusetts, the home of my heart always, and here I have done nothing, deserving the puntisilment of public exposure, that I now remember against myself, ulntil, as one of the lecture committee of the Fraternity Association, it became my duty to assist in seclring lecturers for the course. We invited Mrs. Stanton, but, she failing us at the last momenet, I was not alble to resist the entreaties of the commnittee, and the obli,gation I felt myself under, to make good her place, so far as in me lay. That was, I believe, the first lecture ever delivered in Boston before a Lyceum Association by a woman. I will not tell you how prosy and dull I fear it was, but I klnow it was earnest, and well considered, and dear Mirs. Follen's, anld Miss Peabody's beaming eyes, kept me in heart all throug,h, as they glowed with interest before me from below the platform of Tremont Temple H.iall. Since then, from want of health and voice, I have not spoken much . 381

Page  382 382 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. in public, though I have given soul service, in many direc. tions, standing as correspondingt secretary for the Anti-slavery Society, one of the Board of Manag(ers to the New England Female Medical College, and reading a course of private lectures on practical ethics, before Dio Lewis' school of girls. These lectures cover the relations of the young woman to the school, the State, the home, and her own complete development. As a mother, I am happy to say that my sons and da,ughlters have never disgraced, and I see no reason to believe, ever will disgrace, my name, or bring in question, my influence over them, or my fidelity to them. Pure in heart, noble in all their tastes and tendencies, they are my joy in the present, my hope in the future, and my best legacy to it. Here you have me, my good friend, in a nutshell. Not multumn in parvo, it must be confessed. "Yotirs, sincerely, C. M. S." Mrs. Severance now resides ill West Newton, Massachusetts, where she is living a quiet life, in a beautiful home. She is using her pen in a way she hopes will some day prove a means of broader influence. In manners and appearance, Mrs. Severance is very attractive. She has a handsome face and figure, dignified carriage, and fine conversational powers. She is an amiable, affectionate, conscientious woman, faithful alike in her private and public duties. FRANCES D. GAGE. Born October 12th, 1808, in Marietta, Washington County, on the banks of the Muskiuguml, Ohio. HIer fatther, Joseph Barker, was a native of New IHampshire, and an early pioneer to the western wilds. Throtugh her mother, Elizabeth Dana, she was allied to the distitnguished Massachusetts families of Dana and Bancroft. A log cabin in the woods, was the seminary where Frances Barker acquired the rudiments of

Page  383 FRANCES D. GAGE. education. And, though she had few early advantages, she became a sound thinker, a good writer of both prose and verse, and one of the most effective speakers in the country. She was born with a sound mind in a sound body. 1ier large, wvell-balanced head, and strong physical development imade learning and hardships alike easy for her to surmount. Iler father was a farmer and cooper, and the duties of a fitrmler's daLughter, in a new country, were all cheerfully and easily disposed of b)y her. She assisted her father in mnaking barrels, and I have heard her oftell tell that, as she would roll out a well-imade barrel, her father would pat her on the head, and say, "Ah, Fanny, you should have been a boy!" Fanny had a kind and loving nature, and early felt tl:he most intense sympathy for the flugitives from slavery. Her tenderness and chlarity for these despised people often subjected her to the ridicule of her young companions. She became famili'irized with their sufferings and wants, in her frequent visits to her grandmother, Mrs. Mary Bancroft Dana, whose home was on the Ohio River, opposite Blennerhasset's Island. At the age of twenty-one she married James L. Gage, a lawyer of iMcConnellsville, Ohio,- a man of great humanity and moral integrity. With a family of eilght children, and all the hardships of that Western life, Mrs. Gage still found time, through all those years, to read, and write for leadingo journals, and often to speak, too, on temperance, slavery, and woman's rights. As she stood almost alone on these questions, she was often subject to ridicule and persecution. Those who have never advocated an unpopular idea -who have not made principle, rather than policy, their guiding, star - catnnot appreciate the peculiar trials of those who are true in word and action to their enlightened conscientious opinions. In 1851, Mrs. Gage attended a "Woman's Rights Convention," in Akron, Ohio, and was chosen president of the 3S3

Page  384 384 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. meeting,. Her opening speech, on that occasion, is remark. able for its common sense, and a pathos peculiarly her own. Ill 1853 she moved to St. Louis. Those who fought the anti-slavery battle in Massachusetts cannot realize the danger of such a warfare ill a slatve-hlolding State. WTith her usual franlk utterances of opinions, she was soon1 branded as an abolitionist, her articles excluded from the journals, and she from good society," with daily threats of violence to her person and the destruction of her property. Three disastrous fires -the work of incendiaries, no doubt- greatly reduced the resources of the family. Owing to her husbland's ill health, and failure in business, she took the post of assistant editor of an agricultural paper in Columbus, Ohio; but as the breaking out of the war soon destroyed the circulation of the paper, and four of her sons had gone into the army, her thoughts turned to the scenes of conflict in the Southern States. The "sutffering freedmen" and the " l)oys in blue" appealed alike to her loving, heart for kindness and help; and, without appointment or salary, she went to Port Royal in 1862. She remained in Beaufort, Paris, and Fernandina thirteen months, ministerling alike to the soldiers and freedmen, as opportunity offered. Ptages might be written on the heroism of Mrs. Gage and her daughter Mary dutring tlhis period. Oppressed with the magnitude of the work to be accomplished there, shle returned North, to give her experiences acquired among thle freedmen, hoping to rouse others, younger and stronger than herself, to go down and teich those neglected people the A B C of learning and social life. During, this year she travelled throulgh many of the northern States, speaking nearly every evening to Soldiers' Aid Societies. She worked without pay, only asking enotugh to defray her expenses. When the summer days made lecturing impossible, she went as an unsalaried agent of the Sani

Page  385 FRANCES D. GAGE. tary Commission down the Mississippi, to Memphlis, Vicks burg, and Natchez. In the month of September she was overturned in a carriage at Galesburg, Illinois, which crippled her for that year. As soon as she recovered she was em ployed and well paid by various temperance organizations to lecture for that cause; and she was thus occupied, when her plans for future activity and usefulness were suddenly terminated by a stroke of paralysis, in August, 1867. She has since been confined to her room, though able to walk about, read, and write. A visit to her sick-room is always pleasant and profitable, and everything, fromn her pen breathes a swveet spirit of love to man and trust in God. In appearance, Mrs. Gage is large and vigorous, has a good, benevolent face, easy manners, and a varied fund of conversation. She is capable, as her life shows, of great self-denial and heroism. She is an extemporaneous speaker, - a talker rather than all orator,- and never fails to interest and hold an audience. There is no woman in the country who can speakli so readily, without preparation, on so many different subjects, as i[rs. Gage. She has taken a prominent part in niost of the National Woman's Rights Conventions, and, but for her illness, would have spoken all through Kansas in the last campaign. In reply to my letter, asking her for some facts relating t o our Woman's Rights movement, she writes me from her sick-room:- - "459 SIXTH AVENUE, NEW YORic. "DEAR MRS. S.,-Your letter is before me..... I have little to say; yet I remember the first convention. I was travelling East, with my husband, and was at Buffalo that very day, and longed to be with you. The next conventions were held in Indiana and in Ohio in 1850.. I remember, too, emanating, from the Salem Convention was a 25 25 385 I

Page  386 386 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. mnemorial, drawn up by Mary Ann Johnson, asking that the words'white male' should be omitted firom the constitution, which was that year to be given to the State. I also drew up a memorial, askinlg for the equal rights of woman before the law, and that the words'white male' should be stricken from the constitution. I did not know Mrs. Johnson, and we had no communication with each other. Those memorials were presented by the member from my district; the subject was vehemently discussed, and voted upon. Nine votes were given for striking out the word'male' and eleven for striking out'white.' I think this was the first memorial ever presented in any State asking suffrage for woman. From 1849 to 1855 I lectured on this subject iii Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, Louisiana, Mas.sachusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York, and wrote volumes for the press. Many of the most earnest spirits in Kansas were from Ohio, Indiana, Iowa, and Illinois, and helped to form the public opinion that gave woman, in that State, a right to vote on temperance and education, and laid the foundation for its present advanced position. Excuse my palsied hand and brain. I am still very feeble, and write with difficulty. Under the nomme de plume of "Aunt Fanny," Mrs. Gage -has written many beautiful stories for children, stanzas, and :sketches of social life. She wvas an early contributor to the "'Saturday Visitor," edited by Jane G. Swisshlelm, and has lately written for the New York "Independent." A volume of poems, and a temperance tale, "Elsie MaIg,oon," are the last of her published works. By her own efforts, Mrs. Ga,ge Pas accumulated enoligh to secure to herself and her children -a pleasant home for her old age. " Yours, "Fp,.ANCEs D. GAGE."

Page  387 ABBY HUTCHINS O.N. In April, 1850, a convention was held in Salem, Ohio. J. Elizabeth Jones, Mary Ann Johnson, and Josephine Griffing were the leading spirits,' all women of highl moral character and intellectual cultivation. Mary Anti Johnson had lectured to large audiences throughouit the country on physiology. Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Griffing were both able writers and speakers. These women circulated petitions in that State, and addressed the Legislature demanading womanl's right to her property, wages, children, and the elective franchise. In the reports of this convention we find mention made of Maria L. Giddings, daughter of Joshua R. Giddclings, who presented an able report onl the laws; of Sojourner Truth, Mrs. Stowe's Lybian Sybil, for forty years a slave in New York, and of the Hutchinson family, who enlivened the occasion with their songs. Among the representative women of the nineteenth century, ABBY HUTCHINSON deserves a passing notice. She was born in Milford, 1New Hampshire, one of a larg,e family of children. Early in the anti-slavery cause, she, with four brothers, began to sing ill the conventions. Inll all those stormy days of mob violence the Hutchinson family was the one harmonizing clement. Like oil on the troubled waters, their sweet songs would soothe to silence those savages whom neither appeal nor defiance could awe. Abby made her first appearance in public at an early ag,e. Anti-slavery, woman's rights, temperance, peace, and democracy have been her themes, - singing, alike in the Old World and the New. To farmers on New England's granite hills, to pioneers on the far-off prairies, to merchant princes in crowded cities, and to kings, queens, and nobles, in palaces and courts, have those girlish lips sung the republican anthem, " All men are created equal." She was a girl of strong character and a nice 387

Page  388 388 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. sense of propriety in all things. Although until her marriage her life was wholly a public one, yet she never lost the modesty, delicacy, and refinement so peculiarly her own. She was slightly formed, graceful, with a bright, happy face, and most pleasing manners. She had a fair complexion, dark eyes and hair, teeth like rows of pearls, and in fact might be called beautiful. Her voice, though not of great compass and variety, was full, rich, deep, and well modulated. All admit that "the Hutchinson family" have acted well their part in the cause of reform, and a second generation is singing still. When Abby retired from the stage her mantle fell on her niece Viola, who, having just married, will probably share the fate of her aunt, being according to Blackstone, wholly absorbed in another, and we shall hear from her no more. The first national convention was held in Brinley Hall, Worcester, Massachusetts, October 23d, and 24th, 1850. This was the first thoroughly or,ganized, and ably sustained convention, for which extensive preparations were made, as the women of the country had learned by that time what was necessary to make a convention a success. Above three hundred persons, men and women, enrolled their names as members. Among them we find William IH. Channing, E. D. Draper, Frederick Douglass, Thomas Earle, Welldell Phillips, William Lloyd Garrison, Parker Pillsbury, Charles Burleigh, Hannah Darlington, Sarah Tyndall, Sarah R. May, S.C. Sargent, C. NI. Shaw, Ellen and Marion Blackwell, 'Mary Adams, and Sojourner Truth. The proceedings of this convention were remarkable for their earnestness and ability. The reports, published both in England and America, ill all the leading journals, first drew the attention of Mrs. John Stuart Mill to this subject, and prompted her able article in the Westminster Review " on" The enfranchisement of women." Paulina Wright Davis was chosen president of the conyen

Page  389 ANTOINETTE BROWN. tion. Her opening address, an hour in length, was a very con cise, and able presentation of the work to be done, and the manner of doing it. In this convention every phase of the question was discussed,- work, wages, property, education, and suffrage,by the ablest men and women in the country. After this, National Women's Rights Conventions were held annually in the different States of New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Ohio, and as the result the laws in these States were essentially though slowly modified. This simultaneous movement in every State, the unanimity of thought and feeling among the ablest women in the country, the striking similarity in the appeals, petitions, resolutions, and speeches, all prove this claimn for woman to be one of those great ideas that mark an era in human progress, and not the idiosyncrasy of a few unbalanced minds. ANTOINETTE BROWN Was born in Henrietta, Monroe County, New York, May 20th, 1825. At the age of nine years she joined the Congregational church, and sometimes spoke and prayed in the meetings. In childhood she often expressed the wish that she might become a preacher. At the age of sixteen, she taught school during the summer, and attended the academy in Henrietta during the winter. In 1844 she went to Oberlin performing alone her first journey by canal and stagec, to Uegin the experience of college life. While there she taught several branches in the seminary, in order to pay the expenses of her collegiate course. In 1846 she taught in the academy in Rochester. There her first lecture was delivered, in accordance with the custom of the male teachers, to address the pupils and visitors at the close of the terms. Her vacations at Oberlin had been passed in extra study of 389

Page  390 390 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Greek and Hebrew. It was here she and Lucy Stone had first met, and formed a friendship that has strengthened with their years. Here they fought together the battles of woman's rights with the students and professors, and sustained each other under all the peculiar hardships of their position'. As they afterwards married brothers, and purchased homes in New Jersey, their lives have moved on harmoniously together. In 1846 she returned to Oberlin to go through a three years' course ill theology. For some time the Bible argument on the ministrations of woman had been with her a subject of serious and prayerful consideration. It was customary for the students to receive a license to preach, and before finishing their course they would often speak in the pulpits of the neighborhood. When Miss Brown asked this license, the professors were grievously exercised. But after much thoiught and consultation they decided " that she was a resident graduate, pursuingi the theological course, but not a member of the theolog,ical department, and, consequently, she needed no license from the institution, but must preach or be silent on her own responsibility." Like General Jackson, she took the responsibility, and preached often in different parts of Ohio, while pursuing her theological course of studies. After quitting Oberlin she spent four years in private reading and study, preaching and lecturing on various reforms. In 1850 she attended the convention inl Worcester, Massachusetts, and made a speech on the enfranchisement of woman. She preached whenever and wherever opportunity offered, without regard to sect, -alike in the church at Andover, Music Hall, in Boston, or public halls in Worcester, Cincinnati, and New York. In 1853 she was ordained pastor of a Congregational church in South Butler, Wayne County, New York. The Rev. Luther Lee, Wesleyan minister of Syray

Page  391 ANTOINETTE BROWN. euse, preached the ordination sermon. Gerrit Smith and Samuel J. May took part in the ceremonies. "Then," says MAIrs. Blackwell, in a note to me recently, "Dr. Cheever openly branded me and my South Butler Church as infidels; and the New York'Independent' sustained him, and would only publish a crumb of my reply." We are happy to say that our noble young friend, Theodore Tilton, was not then editor of that journal. Miss Brown remained in South Butler but one year, owing to ill health from excessive labor, and painful doubts concerningltheological doctrines. As soon as she was re-established in health of body and mind she lectured on reformatory subjects in Cincinnati and elsewhere, and investigated the character and causes of vice in New York, with especial reference to its bearing on woman. The year 1855 was spent in this interesting though painful work, and she published in the New York Tribune" a number of sketches from life, under the title " Shadows of our Social System." In 1854 she was a delegate from the Wayne County Society to the World's Temperance Convention, at which Neal Dow presided, in New York. But she was denied her seat, simply because she was a woman. Wendell Phillips and WVilliam H. Channing made eloquent speeches in favor of her admission, and she took the platform herself and essayed to speakl, but such was the noise tand confusion with tongues and canes, and the swaying of the audience to and fro, that all attempts on her part were unavailable. From the liberal state of public sentiment to-day one can hardly believe it possible that, thirteen years ago, men claiming to be Christian ministers could have so rudely treated a beautiful, highly-educated young girl, a member of the same church with themselves, because she asked that her name might be enrolled with theirs in a WVorld's Temperance Con 39.I

Page  392 392 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. vention, - that she, too, migTht raise her voice ill the metropolis of the nation against the vice of drunkenness. In January, 1856, Miss Brown married Samuel Blackwell. Thou,gh she occasionally speaks, still most of her time is passed at home in the care of a family of dau,ghters. It is said she is writing on theological questions for future publication. Mrs. Blackwell is a close, untiring student. She writes and speaks with ease, has a logical and well-stored mind, and is a woman of pleasing manners and address. LUCY STONE Was the first speaker who really stirred the nation's healrt on the subject of woman's wrongs. Young, magnetic,,eloquent, her soul filled with the new idea, she drew immense audiences, and was eulogized everywhere by the press. She spoke extemporaneously, having no special talent as a writer. ier style of speaking, was earnest, fluejut, impassioned appeal rather than argument. She excelled in telling touching incidents and amusing anecdotes. I well remember my pleasure the first time I heard her. It was at a Temperance Convention in Rochester, in 1853. A resolution was before the convention, asking of the Legislature a law granting divorce for drunkenness. Lucy took the affirmative; and, although the question was ably debated in the negative by Mrs. C. H. I. Nichols and Antoinette Brown, yet Lucy carried the audience with her. She was born in West Brookfield, Massachusetts. Her parents were rigid Presbyterians, and trained up their children in an austere manner.. She, however, early queried with herself as to the wisdom of existing laws, customs, and opinions. She could not see the justice of her brother's being sent to college to enjoy all the advantages of edrication, while t

Page  393 LUCY STONE. she and her sisters remained at home to work on the farm. The yoke on her own neck galled her to action. She decided that she, too, would go to college and have a liberal education. The question was thoroulghly pondered and debated, and at last decided. She borrowed the money and went to Oberlih, vlwhere, with great economy, management, self-denial, and untiring application to her studies, she graduated with high honors. Having discovered her talent for oratory in the debating society at Oberlin, she decided to fit herself for a public speaker. On her return to New Eingland she became an agent of the American Anti-slavery Society, lecturilng alternately for the slave and woman. She travelled through the AWestern and some of the Southern States, speaking in all the large cities. In 1855 she was married to Henry B. Blackwell. Thomas W~. Iligginsoin performed the ceremony. She accepted the usual marria,ge under protest,-her husband renoulllciig all those rights of authority and ownership which were his ill law, and she retainiing her own name. Although this h,s been to her a source of great annoyance and persecution, from friends as well as ellemnies, yet, feeling that the principle of woman's individualism was involved in a lifelong name, she has steadily adhered to her decision. I honor her for her steadfast pridciple. The first thing the slave does in freedom is to take to himself a name. Having been Cuffy Lee, or Cuffy Davis, just whose Cuffy lhe might chance to be, as soon as he is his own master he takes a new name that is henceforth to represent his individual existence. Why wonder that a Oman, believing, in her own individual existence, who had distinguishlied her name the world over, should refuse to be so entirely swallowed up in another as to lose even the lnamel to which she had answered for thirty years? I remember I had the same feelings when I was married, though young and unknown, and, 393

Page  394 394 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. although I took my husband's name, I retained my own also. The name of Lucy Stone is prominent in all the early National Conventions, as she was Secretary of the Woman's Rights organization for many years. Mrs. Stone is small, with dark-brown hair, gray eyes, fine teeth, florid complexion, and has a sparkling, intellectual face. Iler voice is soft, clear, and musical; her manner in speaking is quiet, niakiug but few gestures, and usually standilng in one place. Gerrit Smith told me once, with great glee, that sitting on the platform when Lucy was speaking, he saw her several times gently stamp her foot! Mrs. Stone has one daughter, and since her marriage her life has been spent in retirement, until the news that Kansas was to submit the proposition to strike the words "white male" from her Constitution to a vote of the people, roused her again to public duty. She spent two months in the spring of 1867 travelling through that State, speaking to larg3 audiences. She attendcled the Topeka Conlvenltion, at the formation of the "Kansas Impartial Suffrag,e Association," and has lectured during the past winter on suffrage for woman in Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York. MRS. CAROLINE H. DALL. Born in Beacon Street, Boston. She is more distinguishled as a writer than speaker, thlloug,h she has lectured on various subjects in many parts of the country. I1er addresses are uniformly w$1 written, and show great research, and unltiring, industry. MIrs. Dall is a highly educated wonlan, a close student, an encyclopedia of historical facts and statistics. Her reports, read in the annual Woman's Ri,ghts Conveiiti(mns, of the pro,gress of the movement, are most valluale and interesting papers. She has published several books under the

Page  395 MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS. title, " WVoman under the Law," "Woman's Right to Labor," "The Court, the College, and the Market." All her productions have been extensively reviewed and complimented by the press. In speaking of her last work, "The New York Evening Post" says: Mrs. Caroline H. Dall's well-known book,' The College, the Market, and the Court,' has been issued in a new edition, which contains important additions, some corrections, an index, and some notes on the unfortunate Dr. Todd, who was lately so shockiingly mangled by Miss Gail Hamilton. Mrs. Dall's book has been very well spoken of abroad, as indeed it deserves, - for it is the most eloquent and forcible statement of the Woman's Question which has been made." MIany persons, now writing and speaking on this subject, glean their facts from her books, and without always giving credit where it is due. Mrs. Dall has been an active member in the Social Science Association, and read many valuable papers in their public meetings, both in Boston and New York. She was associated with Paulina Wright Davis, in The Una, "- a woman's rights paper, published at Boston in 1854, - and has taken a prominent part in some of the MIassachusetts Conventions. She married a Unitarian clergyman, wvho has been a missionary for many years in Calcutta. Mrs. Dall's department of thought is in the region of facts. Not capable of generalization, her mind does not deal in principles, hence the conclusions she draws from her facts are sometimes neither legitimate nor philosophical. MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS. In Kansas, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Nichols in 1867. She is a native of Vermont, but went to the West 395 v

Page  396 396 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. several years ago. She has been in Kansas through all the troubles in that State, and to her influence, in a measure, is due its liberal laws for woman. She was in the first constitutional convention, and pressed woman's claims on its consideration. Mrs. Nichols is an able writer and speaker, and is as thoroughly conversant with the laws of her State as any judge or lawyer in it. She has taken a prominent part in all reforms for the last twenty years. She is a noble woman, and has borne the hardships of her pioneer life with a heroism that commands admiration. For many years, Mrs. Nichols ably edited the "Windham County Democrat,"- a whig, paper, published at Brattleboro', Vermont. Thou,gh her articles were widely copied, it was not then known that they were written by a woman. SUSAN B. ANTHONY Was born at the foot of the Green Mountains, South Adams, Massachusetts, February 15th, 1820. Her father, Daniel Anthony, was a stern Quaker, her mother, Lucy Read, a Baptist; but being liberal and progressive in their tendencies, they were soon one in their religion. Her father was a cotton manufacturer, and the first dollar she ever earned was in his factory. Though a man of wealth, the idea of self-support was early impressed on all the daughters of the family. Iu 1826 they moved into Washilgton County, Newv York, and in 1846 to Rochester. She was educated in a small select school, in her father's house, until the ag,e of seventeen, when she went to a boarditng-school in Phliladelphia. Fifteen years of her life were passed in teaching school in different parts of the State of New York. Althouigh superintendents gave her credit for the best-disciplined school, and the most thoroughly taught scholars in

Page  397 SUSAN B. ANTHONY. the county, yet they paid her but eight dollars a month, while men received from twenty-four to thirty dollars. After fifteen years of faithful labor, and the closest economy, she had saved but three hundred dollars. This experience taught her the lesson of woman's rights, and when she read the reports of the first conventions, her whole soul responded to the now demand. Her earliest public work was in the temperance movement, where I first met her in 1851, although she had lectured on that subject, and formed temperance societies as early as 1848, while teaching in Canajoharie, N. Y. In the winter of this year, she called a State Temperance Convention in Albany. Mrs. Lydia Fowler, Mirs. Mary Vaughan, and Mrs. Amelia Bloomer all spoke on that occasion. In May following, she called a Woman's Temperance Convention in Rochester. Corinthian Hall was packed during the proceedings. A State society was formed, and three delegates - Miss Anthony, Mrs. Bloomer, and Mrs. MIarv Hallowell - were appointed to attend the Men's State Temperance Convention at Syracuse, in June. But these delegates were denied a right in the convention. The very idea of a woman's society, or a woman delegate, quite upset the gentlemen of the convention. The clergy, as usual, were especially denunciatory. William H. Burleigh, corresponding secretary, in making out his annual report, hailed the formation of a womana's society as a powerful auxiliary to the temperance movement, and he accordingly advocated the recognition of the delegates; but he was scouted, voted down, and that part of his report blotted out. Rev. Mr. Lee, of the Wesleyan Church, invited the ladies to speak in his house in the evening. Tile consequence was, while they had an immense audience, the men's convention was almost deserted. Similar attempts were made by women all over the country, in the temperance associations; but they were uniformly thrust aside, and the result is, 397

Page  398 398 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. those old organizations have died out, giving place to the orders of Good Templars, Rechabites, etc., etc., that gladly affiliate with woman, in carrying on this important reform. At this time, Miss Anthony's life and mine became nearly one. From my retreat, which I seldom left, being surrounded with a large family of young children, she and I surveyed, year after year, the State and the nation. Wherever we saw a work to be done, we would together forge our thunderbolts, in the form of resolutions, petitions, appeals, and speeches, on every subject,- temperance, antislavery, woman's rights, agriculture, education, and religion,uniformly accepting every invitation to go everywhere, and do everything. Through all those years, Miss Anthony was the connecting link between me and the outer world, -the reform scout, who went to see what was going on in the enemy's camp, and returning with maps and observations to plan the mode of attack. Wherever we saw an annual convention of men, quietly meeting year after year, filled with brotherly love, we bethought ourselves how we could throw a bombshell into their midst, in the form of a resolution, to open their doors to the sisters outside, who had an equal interest with themselves in the subjects under consideration. In this way, we assailed, in turn, the temperance, educational, and church conventions, agricultural fairs, and halls of legislation. We persecuted the educational convention for a whole decade of years, to the infinite chagrin of Professors Davies, Buckley, and -Hazeltine, whose feathers always ruffled the moment Miss Anthony, with her staid Quaker face and firm step, walked up the aisle, always taking a conspicuous seat, as if to say, Gentlemen, here I am again, to demand that you recoignize as your equals, the hundreds of women before you, - teachers, who sit in these conventions, without a voice or vote in your proceedings. With the aid of such chivalrous men as Superintendents Randall and Rice, we at

Page  399 SUSAN B. ANTHONY. last triumphed; women were permitted to speak and vote in the conventions, appointed on committees, and to make reports on various subjects. Miss Anthony herself was invited to prepare a report on educating the sexes together, which she read to an immense audience in Troy, in 1858. At the close of her able report, Mr. Hazeltine came to her and said, " While I must admit the talent and power of your report, I would rather see a daughter of mine buried beneath the sod, than that she should stand before a promiscuous audience and utter such sentiments." Superintendent Randall, standing by, replied,'"And I should be proud if I had a daughter able to do it." Ini October of thle same year Miss Anthony delivered the annual address at the Yates County Agricultural Fair, held at Dundee. She was to have spoken in the church, but the crowd was so great, that, with a Itimber-wagon for her rostrum, she spoke an hour and a half in the open air. Hers is the one voice among our speakers that never fails to fill the ears of her autdience. Her address was pronounced the ablest that had ever been delivered in that county. Miss Anthony's style of speaking is rapid, vehement, concise, and in her best moods she is sometimes eloquent. In late years she speaks extemporaneously, retaining enough of the Quaker to make a failure, except when strongly moved by the spirit. But the spirit is always sure to move when she sees the rights of any human being outraged. From 1852 she has been one of the leading spirits in every Woman's Rights Convention, and has been the acting secretary and general agent through all these years; and when in 1866 we reorganized under the name of "The American Equal Rights Association," she was reappointed to both these offices. From 1857 to 1866, Miss Anthony was also all agent and faithfuil worker in the anti-slavery cause until the eman cipation edict proclaimed freedom throughout the land. She has been untiring in her labors in securing the liberal legisla 399

Page  400 400 EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. tion we now have for women in the State of New York. The property rights of married women were secured by the bills of 1848 and 1849. From that time to the present scarce a year has passed without petitions, appeals, and addresses before our legislature. In the winter of 1854 and 1855 Miss Anthony held fifty-four conventions in different counties of the State, with two petitions in hand,- one demanding equal property rights, the other the ballot,-and rolled up ten thousand names. She performed these fatiguing journeys mostly in stage-coaches in the depth of the winter. Miss Anthony, though not beautifiul, has a fefine figure and alarge, well-shaped head. The world calls her sharp, angular, cross-grained. She has, indeed, her faults and angles, but they are all outside. She has a broad ana generous nature, and a depth of tenderness that few women possess. She does not faint, or weep, or sentimentalize; but she has genuine feeling, a tender love for all true men and women, a reverence for noble acts and words, and an active pity for those who come to her ill the hour of sorrow and trial. She is earnest, unselfish, and true to principle as the needle to the pole. In an intimate friendship of eighteen years, I can truly say, I have never known her to do or say a mean or narrow thing. She is above that petty envy and jealousy that mar the character of so many otherwise good women. She is always full of the work before her, and does it, going throtughl and over whatever stands in her way. She never sees lions in her path, but does what she is convinced is right, whether it seems feasible to others or not. Hence she is impatient and imperious with those who, not seeing the goal she does, stand in her way. The legislators of this State can testify to her pertinacity and perseverance. Those who have complained of Miss Anthony's impatience, in pushing our cause to a speedy success, must remember that without the cares of husband, children, and home, all her time, thought, force, and affection have centred in this work for nearly

Page  401 SUSAN B. ANTHONY. twenty years. She has raised and spent thousands of dollars, in printing and postage, having scattered documents without number all over this country and England. No one knows, as I do, the untiritng labors of this noble woman in our cause. WVhat people call cross-grained in her is her quickness in seeing the right, and her promptness in maintaining it, no matter who her opposers may be. An anecdote will serve to illustrate the strong principle, independence, and self-reliance of her character. A lady of superior education, the wife and sister of distinguishled men, was placed in an insane asylum to be quietly disposed of, that some domestic difficulties might not be made known. After a two years' incarceration she was released; but, insisting on separation, and the possession of her children, she was again threatened, when she appealed to MIiss Anthony for protection. She promptly gave her the necessary assistance, and found a safe retreat for her and her daughter. No threats or persecutions could move her to reveal the hiding-place of her clients. Anti-slavery friends on all sides wrote to her, beagging her to have nothing, to do with the matter, -that it would injure the reforms she advocated. Leading men in the State wrote to her that she was legally liable for abducting a child from its father, and that she would be arrested some day on the platform in the midst of a speech. Telegrams and letters of threats and persuasion were poured on her thick and fast; among others, Mr. Garrison and Mr. Phillips wrote to her saying, "Do you not know that you are guilty of a violation of law?" Yes! " she replied; " and I know when I feed and shelter a panting fugitive from slavery I violate law; and yet you would uphold me for violating, the law in one case; why not the.other? Is a refined, educated, noble woman, flying from the contamination of an unfaithful husband, less worthy of my protection than a black man flying from the tyranny of his master?" Of the threats of arrest fi-om +he presiding officer of the Massachusetts Legisla 2fi 401

Page  402 EMINENT W OMEN OF THE AGE. ture, and an honorable senator of New York, she had no fears, knowing that, in thus doing, they would make public exactly what they desired to conceal. In the autumn of 1867 Miss Anthony went to IKaansas, where she remained during the campai,gn, which closed so triumphantly, giving nine thousand votes for woman's suffirage. In Kansas she met for the first time George Francis Train, who had been invited to go there, and stump the State for woman's suffrage, by the "Woman's Suffrage Association" of St. Louis. She travelled with him in Kansas, addressing large audiences, until the day of election, when I joined her at her brother's house, Mayor D. R. Anthony, of Leavenworth. We then went to Omaha, to meet Mr. Train, where we held two meetilngs, and from that point we came to New York, speaking in all the large cities of nine States. Through the influence of this new and noble champion of woman's rights with Wall Street brokers, she was able to establish" The Revolution," - the first woman's rights paper in this country, with a name representing the magnitude of the work,- on a financial basis that ensures success. Some odium has been cast on Miss Anthony for this affiliation with these Liberal Democrats; but time will prove her judgment as sound in this matter as it has been in so many other points where she has differed from her friends. OLYMPIA BROWN. Chief among the women who labored in Kansas in 1867, are Olympia Brown and Viola Hutchinson, - the one speaking and preaching, the other singing, her sweet songs of freedom, in churches, school-houses, depots, barns, and the open air. Olympia Brown was born in Ohio; she was a graduate of Antioch college, and went throug,h a theological course at 402

Page  403 OLYMPIA BROWN. Canton, New York. She is the most promising young, woman now speaking,in thiscause. Sheissmall,delicately organlized, and has a most pleasing personnel. She is a graceful, fluent speaker, with wonderful powers of continuity and concentration, and is oblivious to everything but the idea she wishes to utter. While in Kansas she spoke every day for four months, twice and three times, Sundays not excepted. She is a close, clear reasoner and able debater. The IKansas politicians all feared to meet her. One prominent judge in the State encountered her in debate, on one occasion, to the utter discomfiture of himself and his compeerS. By some mistake their appointments were in the same place. She, through courtesy, yielded to him the first hour. He made an argument to show the importance of suffrage for the negro, with an occasional slur on woman. She followed him, using his own words, illustrations, and arguments, to show the importance of suffrage for woman, much to his chagrin, and the amusement of the audience, who cheered her from beginnilng to end. At the close of the meeting a rising, vote was taken, of those in favor of woman's suffrage. All the audience arose, except the judge, and he looked as if he would have givein anythillng if consistence would have permitted him to rise also. Mliss Brown is now an ordained pastor of a Universalist church in Weymouth, Massachusetts, where she receives a liberal salary, and is honored and beloved by her people. The space assigned me in this volume is too small for more than a brief sketch of this cause and its leaders. As much odium has been cast on these noble women, I cannot close without saying, what I feel to be just and true, of all alike. It is no exaggeration to state, that the women identified with this question are distinguished for intellectual power, moral probity, and religious earnestness. Most of them are able speakers and writers, as their published 403

Page  404 404 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. speeches, letters, novels, and poems fully show; those who have seen them in social life can testify that they are good house-keepers, true mothers, and faithful wives. I have known women in many countries and classes of society, and I know none more noble, delicate, and refined, in word and action, than those I have met on the woman's rights platform. True, they do not possess the voluptuous grace and soft manners of the petted children of luxury; they are not clothed in purple and fine linen, faring sumptuously every day, -for most of them are self-made women, who, through hardships and sacrifice, have smoothed the rugged paths for multitudes about them, and earned a virtuous independence for themselves. All praise to those, who, through ridicule and scorn, have changed the barbarous laws for woman in many of the States, and brought them into harmony with the higher civilization in whic(,h we live. 110

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Page  405 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. BY JAMES.PARTON. GREAT BRITAIN wanted a monarch. James the Second had abandoned his throne, and had been driven from his country. William and Mary, who succeeded him were childless, and without hope of offspring. Anne, seventeen times in her life, gave the kingdom hopes of an heir, and then disappointed those hopes. She was childless, and it was well known to her household that she was destined to die childless. As it was part of the fundamental law of the kingdom that the sovereign must be a Protestant, the son of the exiled king was excluded from the succession. The English are such slaves to habit and precedent, and the wars of the Commonwealth were so fresh in the recollection of the country, that it does not appear to have occurred to a single individual that the realm of England could be governed unless it could find a person to play sovereign on certain days of the year, in the show-rooms of St. James' Palace. America had not yet taught the world the art of nominating, electing, and deposing chief magistrates. There had once been kings in England, and the shadow of one was felt to be necessary still. Wanted a monarch. No Roman Catholic need apply. This was the problem for the "Heralds" of that day. In all the world there was but one person who could rightfully succeed Queen Anne, and that was an elderly lady known to 0 405

Page  406 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. the people of England as the Princess Sophia, and to the peo. ple of Hanover as the wife of their sovereign, the elector, Ernest Augustus. Iingo James the First left but two children of the seven who had been born to him. One of these was the unfortunate Charles the First, who lost his crown and his head; the other was the Princess Elizabeth, who in due time married Frederick the Fifth, Elector Palatine, one of the hundred petty sovereigns of Germany. The Princess Sophia was the daughter of this pair, and she was married to Ernest Augustus of Hanover. Being thus the grand-daugohter of James the First, and the wife of a Protestant prince, her right to the English throne, in case Queen Anne died without issue, was unquestionable; and hence, in the act of settlement of 1701, she was declared the heiress presumptive. She had become a widow, and was living in retirement in Hanover as Electoress Dowager,- an elderly lady of excellent character, but as little fitted to govern all empire as a child. The En,glish, however, did not want any one to govern an empire. They meant to do that themselves. They wanted some benevolent and good-lookingc, person to wear the robes, inhabit the palace, and play the part of monarch, in a serene and dignified manner. For such purpose the good old dowager of Hanover might have answered as well a another. This destiny, however, was not ill reserve for her; for, seventeenl days before the death of Queen Anne, she died, leaving her son George, the Elector of Hallover, heir to the British crown. George Lewis was his name, but he is known ill English history as George the First. Thus it was that the present reigning, family came to the English throne. Queen Vict )ria reigns to-day because of her direct descent, through James the First, fiom Mary, Queen of Scots, the mother of that pedantic king. On the Hanover 106

Page  407 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. side, she can claim an ancestry far more ancient, and far more illustrious than this. The respect which many persons feel for an old family is perhaps not quite so unreasonable as some of us republicans suppose. Time tries all. As a rule, whatever endures long is excellent of its kind. In families which have long maintained a certain position in the world, we need not look for brilliant genius, nor splendid courage; but if we inquire closely into their history, we shall generally find a full development of what may be termed the preservative virtues,prudence and family pride. A family which produces a genius appears to exhaust itself in the effort, - it passes away and disappears in the crowd; but where there is robustness of bodily health with a high degree of prudence and family feeling, a race may endutre for centuries without producing a single individual of striking merit, or performing any valuable service for mankind. Nevertheless, there must be in such a family real worth and real wisdom. One of the most admirable provisions among the laws of nature is that one which dooms a family of incurable fools to certain and swift extinction. The family now upon the English throne is one of the oldest in Europe. Among, the mountains which divide Italy from Germany a powerful house named Welf held great possessions as long ago as the year 1100. Extending its conquests southward, it ruled some of the finest provinces of Italy, where the name was changed into Guelph, by wllich it has ever since been known. The Guelphs, with their impregnable castles among the mountains, drawiing tribute from e fertile provinces of northern Italy and southern Germany, appear to have been for a time as wealthy ai(l powerful a family as any in Europe of less than imperial or royal rank. It became too powerful. The Guelphs quarrelled among themselves. They divided into two factions, one of which 407

Page  408 408 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. retained the name of Guelph, and the other acquired that of Ghibeline, and each of them was powerful enough to maintain an army in the field. The bloody contest was waged a vhile among the German mountains. The family quarrel, as was usually the case in those days, absorbed into itself public questions of great pith and moment, until the whole south of Europe were drawn into the interminable strife. It was this famous contest between the Guelphs and the Ghlibelines which saddened the existence of the poet Dante, and made him for twenty years an exile from his native city. When mortals fight, it rarely happens that one party is wholly in the right, and the other wholly ill the wrong. Both the Guelphs and the Ghibelines committed enormous outrages. Neither of them was strong enough to hold the other ill subjection, and neither was great enough to forgive a fallen foe. When the Guelphs conquered a province or captured a city, they banished the powerfull Ghibelines, and confiscated their estates. The Ghibelines, when they were victors, pursued the same policy. Consequently there were always a great number of persons, both within and without the conquered place, whose only hope of regaining, their rights and property was in overturning the government. Ilence three centuries of fruitless, desolating war. But although in this cardinal error of the contest there was not a pin to choose between the hostile factions, it is nevertheless evident that the Guelphs were, upon the whole, fighting the battle of mankind. Dante was upon'their side, - a great fiact in itself. Closely allied with the pope, then the chief civilizing power of Europe, the sole protector of the people against the tyranny of their lords, the Guelphsd were greatly instrumental in limiting the power of the emperors, and preventing all the fairest countries of Europe from lapsing under the dominion of a single dynasty. It was from these warlike Guelphs of the middle ages that

Page  409 YICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. the present royal house of Encgland descended. Gibbon, indeed, traces the family of Guelph up to Charlemagne; but we need not follow him so far in the labyrinth of heraldry. Let it suffice us to know that a powerful prince of the Guelphian race, six hundred years ago or more, acquired by marriage extensive possessions in the north of Germany. This prince is known in the history of Germahiy as henry the Black. Other Henries succeeded, - Henry the Proud, IIenry the Lion, and a long line of hienries, Williams, Othos, Georges, Snd Ernests, until at length we find a branch of the family established in Hanover, and ruling that prowince with the title of elector. Not much can be said in commendation of the more recent ancestors of Queen Victoria. George the First wvas fifty four years of age when he stepped ashore at Greenwich, and walked to the royal palace ill its park, hailed and saluted as King, of England. Hie was an honest, hearty man, brave and resolute; but he had an incurable narrowness of mind, and he was as ignorant of all that a king ought to know as the kingos of that period generally were. ,lMy maxim is," he used to say, "never to abandon my friends; to do justice to all the world, and to fear no man." The saying does him honor. lIe was a manl of punctual and business-like habits, diligent in performing the duties appertaining to his I)lace, so far as he understood them. B]ut, unhappily, when he left his native country, he left his heart behind him. He loved Hanover, and a man can no more love two countries than two women. HIe understood Hanover; he never understood England; and the thing which hlie had at heart, during his whole reign, was the aggrandizement of Hanover. He had the satisfaction of dying in his native land, which he was accustomed frequently to visit, and his dust still reposes there in the electoral mausoleum. His son, George the Second, with all his narrowness and 409

Page  410 410 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ignorance, was not without his good and strong points. Like most of his ancestors, he was honest, well-intentioned, and brave; and, like most of his ancestors, he was singularly unfitted to have anything to do with the government of a great nation. The ornament of his court was Queen Caroline, a patron of art and literature, whom the king loved truly, and scolded incessantly, whom he sincerely respected and continually dishonored. The scenes which took place at the death-bed of this queen show us something of the character of both of the ill-assorted pair. The king," says a recent writer, "was heart-broken, but he was himself. He could not leave her in peace at that last moment. By way of watching over her,'he lay on the queen's bed all night in his nightgown, where he could not sleep nor she turn about easily.' He went out and in continually, telling everybody, with tears, of her great qualities. But he could not restrain the old habit of scolding when he was by her side.'How the devil should you sleep when you will never lie still a moment I!' he cried with an impatience which those who have watched by a death-bed will at least understand.'You want to rest, and the doctors tell you nothing can do you so much good, and yet you always move about. Nobody can sleep in that manner, and that is always your way; you never take the proper method to get what you want, and then you wonder you have it not.' When her weary eyes, weary of watching the troubled comings and goings about her, fixed upon one spot, the alarmed, excited, hasty spectator cried out, with a loud and quick voice,'Mon Diets qu'est ce que vous regardez? Comment pentt-on fixer ces yeux comme ca?' he cried. He tortured her to eat, as miany a healthful watcher does with cruel kindness.'How is it possible you should know whether you like a thing or not?' hlie said. He was half-crazed with sorrow and love, and a kind of panic. And he was garrulous, and talked without

Page  411 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. intermission of her and of himself, with a vague historical sense, as if talking of a life that had come to an end. "One incident of this death-bed scene is probably without a parallel in the history of the human race: She counselled him to marry again, as he sat sobbing by her bedside. Poor manl he was hysterical, too, with grief and excitement. Wiping his eyes and sobbing between every word, with much ado, he got out this answer:'-on -j'aurai des mnaitlesses.' To which the queen made no other reply than,'Ah, moe .Diezu! cela n'einpeche pas s!' Criticism stands confounded before such an incident." Such was Georg,e the Second, the great-great-grandfather of the present virtuous sovereign of England. Such was the British Court a little more than a hundred years ago. The eldest son of George the Second, Prince Frederick, or the Prince of Wales, was stupid even for a prince. He passed his brief existence in political intrigues with his father's enemies, and in debauchery with the worst of the young nobility. No good or even graceful action relieves the tedious record of his life. We need only say of him - for little else is known - that he embittered his father's days, and that England was well rid of him before it came his tiurn to play the part of king,. Georg(e the Third, the grandfather of Queen Victoria, was the son of this Prince Frederick. George the Third, who plays so important a part in the history of the United States, was one of the most virtuous and most mischievous of kings. Hie was holnest, charitable, and temperate; he was as good a father as an ignorant man can ever hope to be; he was an attentive and affectionate husband; he was a considerate and liberal master and patron. If he had been born to the inheritance of a small fairm,- if he had been a huntsman in Windsor Park, instead of lord of the castle,- he would have lived happily and wisely, and all his native parish would have followed him moutrning to the 411

Page  412 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. tomb. But alas for England, tax-paying England! it was his destiny to be styled king, and to indulge all his life the fond delusion that he really was a king. With such a father as he had, it is not necessary to say that his early education was most grossly and shamefully neglected; and after his father's death, he fell under the influence of men and women who starved his intellect and fed his pride. Coming to the throne in his twenty-seconid year, ignorant of history, ignorant of the English people, totally unacquainted with the spirit of a constitutional government, equally obstinate and conscientious, the whole policy of his reign was erroneous. He displaced William Pitt, and promoted Bute. It was he, and only he, who exasperated into rebellion the most loyal of his subjects,- the people of the American colonies. Instead of hailing, with joy the accession of Napoleon to supreme power in distracted France, instead of aiding him to bring order once more out of the chaos of that kingdom, instead of being, his hearty fiiend and ally, as he oulght to have been for England's sake, as well as for that of France and mankind, he squandered and mortgag,ed deep the resources of the wealthiest empire on earth, in waging and inciting war against the only man who had it in him to rescue France and prepare her for a nobler future. He drove Napoleon nmad; he prepared for him the long, series of victories which wasted his time, wasted his strength, and destroyed the balance between his reason and his passions. When George the Third came to the throne in 1760, the national debt of England was one hundred and thirty millions of pounds. The American war raised it to two hundred and sixty millions. The insensate warfare against the French Revolution made it five hundred and seventy millions; and by the time Napoleon was safely landed in Saint Helena, the debt amounted to the inconceivable sum of eight hundred 412

Page  413 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. and sixty-five millions of pounds. It may be safely asserted, that every guinea of this debt was unnecessary, and all except a few millions of it may be considered the price which Great Britain has paid, or is to pay, for allowing four such men as the four Georges of Hanover to occupy the first place in the government, -a place in which a wise and able man could do no very radical good, but one in which an incomlpe tent man may work prodigious harm. George the Third had fifteen children, of whom all but two survived him. Five of these children were sons, and all of them were robust and vigorous men. Down to a late period in the life of George the Third, no throne in Europe seemed so well provided as his with lineal heirs; and nothing was more improbable than that it should descend to a daughter of the fourth son, -the Duke of Kent. The Prince of Wales, however, had but one legitimate child, the Princess Charlotte, and when she died, in 1817, there was no probability of her father having other legitimate issue. The Duke of York, the second son, a shameless debauchee, also died without legitimate children. The Duke of Clarence, the third son, who afterwards reigned as William the Fourth, had a large family; but, unfortunately, his wife, Queen Adelaide, was not the mother of them. Edward, Duke of Kent, the fourth of the king's sons, had the reputation, in his lifetime, of being the only one of them who observed the ordinary rules of morality. He is even spoken of as "austerely virtuous;" an accusation which I am inclined to believe was groundless; for, if he was so austerely virtuous, he would hardly have left so many debts behind him for his widow and daughter to pay. Some allowance must be made, however, for those unfortunate princes who held the highest rank ill the kingdom, without having the income of a country gentleman. This poor Duke of Kent, although he enjoyed a revenue about as hrge as 413

Page  414 414 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. that of the President of the United States, was the feudal superior of men who had ten and twenty limes that income. What is wealth in one country is poverty in alnother. An Eng,lish prince with four thousand pounds a year is a very poor man, unless he is a very great man. To economize his slender resources, the Duke of Kent resided, for many years, ill Germany. He was living there in 1817, when the sudden death of the Princess Charlotte, and her newly born child, made it apparent that, if he lived to the ordinary age of man, he would one day succeed to the throne. This unexpected chainge in his prospects, it is supposed, led to his marriage, in the followigo year, with a German princess, Victoria, the widlow of the Prince of Leiningen, and a daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg. We now know enough of this lady to have a right to believe that she was a very sensible as well as exemplary woman. Ere many months, it became evident that the Duchess of Kent was about to become a mother, and the duke was desirous that the child should be born upon the soil of the country of which it might be the the sovereign. One of the elements in the popularity of George the Third, which none of his errors ever sensibly diminished, was the fact that he had been born in England, -a circumstance to which he so aptly alluded, in a speech at the beginning, of his reign, that it made an indelible impression upon the country. It was natural that the Duke of Kent should desire to secure this advantage for his unborn child. Strange to say, this prince ot the blood royal actually had not money enough for the journey home, and he wrote to his family for a remittance. They refuised it, and he was obliged to borrow the requisite sum from friends ill humbler life. At Kensington Palace, in London, on the 24th of May, 1819, the Princess Victoria was born. As she saw the light in the pleasant month of May, they named her the May-flower,

Page  415 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. and so she was called in the family during her infancy. We have the note, recently published, which the mother of the Duchess of Kent despatched to her daughliter, when she heard the joyfill intelligence. "I cannot express," wrote the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, "how haplpy I am to know you are, dearest, dearest Vickel, safe in your bed with a little one, and that all went off so happily. May God's best blessings rest on the little stranger and the beloved mother! Again a Charlotte, - destined, perhaps, to play a great part one day, if a brother is not born to take it out of her hands. The English like queens, and the niece of the ever-lamented, beloved Charlotte will be most dear to them. I need not tell you how delighted everybody is here in hearing of your safe confinement. You know that you are much beloved inll this your little home." Three months after, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, sent to her daughter in England the intelligence of the birth of her grandson, -the Prince Albert of happy memory, whose untimely death the Queen of England still laments. WMhen the Princess Victoria was but eight mionths old, her father dlied, leaving his widow and her inlfant child nothing but an inheritance of debt, and a rank in the realm of Britain which is an inconvenience and a manifest absurdity unless accompanied with great wealth. Queen Victoria can doubtless well remember the time when her mother was pestered with duns, and when her own allowance of playthings was limited by her mother's poverty. Nor, indeed, considering her rank, was she ever in very affluent circumstances until she ascended the throne, - her mother's allowance being only eight thousand pounds a year, and part of this was expended in discharging the debts of the Duke of Kent. The little princess was as well educated and trained as a child so unnaturally circumstanced could well be. Do not tease your little puss with learning," wrote her 415

Page  416 416 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. grandmother to the Duchess of 1Kent, when the child was four years of age. "She is so young still." And agtiu, when she was seven: "I see by the English newspapers that his Majesty and her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent went on Virg,inia water. The little monkey must have pleased and amused him. She is such a pretty, clever child." We also have a very pleasing glimpse of the princess and her mother in the following passage by an anonymous writer: - When first I saw the pretty and pale daughter of the Duke of Kent, she was fathlerless. Her fair, light form was sporting, in all the redolence of youth and health, on the noble sands of old Ramsgate. It was a fine summer day, not so warm as to induce languor, but yet warm enough to render the fanning breezes from the laughing tides, as they broke gently on the sands, agreeable and refireshing. Her dress was simple, -a plain straw bonnet, with a white ribl)on round the crown; a colored muslin frock, looking gay and cheerful, and as pretty a pair of shoes on as pretty a pair of feet as I ever remember to have seen from China to Kamschatka. Her mother was her companion, and a venerable man -whose name is graven on every human heart that loves its species, and whose undying famne is recorded ill that eternal book where the actions of men are written with the pen of truth -walked by her parent's side, and doubtless gave that counsel and offered that advice which none were more able to offer than himself,- for it was William WVilberforce. His kindly eyes followed, with parental interest, every footstep of the young, creature, as she advanced to, and retreated from, the coming tide; and it was evident that his mind and his heart were full of the future, whilst they were interested in the present."

Page  417 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. The death of George the Fourth, in 1830, and the accession of William the Fourth, sixty-five years of age, and without an heir, though twelve years married, rendered it all but certain that the Princess Victoria, a graceful girl of eleven, would one day be called to the throne. Until then, we are told, she was not herself aware of the destiny before her; but had been reared in every respect like any other child of an intelligent family of respectable but limited fortune. She became a highly interesting object both to her family and the people of England. The queen has lately published the cordial letter which her grandmother wrote to congratulate her mother upon the eleventh birthday of the princess: My blessings and good wishes for the day which gave you the sweet blossom of May! May God preserve and protect the valuable life of that lovely flower from all the dangers that will beset her mind and heart! The rays of the sun are scorching at the height to which she may one day attain. It is only by the blessing of God that all the fine qualities he has put into that yoting soul can be kept pure and untarnished. How well I can sympathize with the feelings of anxiety that must possess you when that time comes! God, who has helped you through so many bitter hours of grief, will be your help still. Put your trust in him." A few months later, when Parliament had named the Duchess of Kent to the regency of the kingdom, in case the king should die before the princess came of age, the same kind grandmother wrote: "I should have been very sorry if the regency had been given into other hands than yours. It would not have been a just return for your constant devotion and care to your child if this had not been done. May God give you wisdom 27 41 A'

Page  418 418 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. and strength to do your duty, if called upon to undertake it. May God bless and protect our little darling! If I could but once see her again! The print you sent me of her is not like the dear picture I have. The quantity of curls hide the well-shaped head, and make it look too large for the lovely little figure." And so her childhood passed away. She had, of course, the usual retinue of instructors, and went the usual round of lessons and recreation. The mighty Lablache gave her instr'uction in singing; and the queen says of him that he was not only one of the best actors and singers ever seeii in En,gland, "but a remarlkably clever, gentleman-like man, full of anecdotes and knowledge, and most kind and warm-hearted. The prince and queen had a sincere regard for him." That she should acquire a familiarity with the three lainguag,e.s, Engl,ish, German, and French, was scarcely to be avoided, since German was the native language of her mother, English the language of her country, and French the languiage of courts. In the volumes which she has recently given us, there are several specimens of the queen's drawing, from -which we may infer that she acquired enough of this art for the occasional illustration of a private diary. The most interesting event, perhaps, of her minority,,at least, the most interesting to herself,- was her first interview with her cousin of Coburg, Prince Albert. From the very birth of these children, their marriage by and by was distinctly contemplated; and, as time went on, it became the favorite project of the grandmother of the cousins, the Duch ess of Saxe-Gotha, whose affectionate letters have been quoted above. William the Fourth, it appears, had other views for his niece, and did his best to prevent the meeting of the cousins. But a grandmother and a mother, in affairs of this kind, are more than a match for an uncle, even though

Page  419 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. that uncle wears a crown. So when Prince Albert anla the Princess Victoria were seventeen years of age, the prince came to England, accompanied by his father and brother. Both the young people were aware of the i)enevolent intentions of all the German members of their filnmily, and each had been in the habit of dreaming of the future in accordance with those intentions. They were well pleased with one another on this occasion. Prince Albert, accustomed to the quiet routine of a German duke's younger son, was equally amazed and fatigued by the gorgeous life of the English court. The late hours were particularly disagreeable to him, as well they might be. " My first appearance," he wrote, "was at a levee of the king's, which was long and fatiguing,, but very interesting. The same evening we dined at court, and at night there was a beautiftil concert, at which we had to stand till two o'clock. The next day the king's birthday was kelyt. We went, in the middle of the day, to a drawing-room at St. James' Palace, at which about three thousand eight hundred people passed before the king and queen, and the other high digni taries, to offer their congratulations. There was again a great dinner in the evening, and then a concert which lasted till one o'clock. You can well imagine I had many hard battles to fight against sleepiness during these late entertain ments. The day before yesterday, Monday, our aunt gave a brilliant ball here at IKensingtoii Palace, at which the gentlemen appeared in uniform, and the ladies in so-called f,ancy Iresses. We remained till four o'clock. Dukle William of Brunswick, the Prince of Orange and his two sons, and the Duke of Wellingitonl were the only guests that you will care to hear about. "Yesterday we spent with the Duke of Northumberland, 419

Page  420 420 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. at Sion, and now we are goingo to Claremont. Fromn thisi account you will see how constanitly engaged we are, and that we must make the most of our time'to see at least some of the sights in London. Dear aunt is veV kind to us, and does everything she can to please us; and our cousin also is very amiable. We have not a great deal of room in our apartments, but are nevertheless very comfortably lodged." The queen has since recorded her recollections of the prince at the time of this visit: "The prince was at that time much shorter than his brother, already very handsome, but very stout, which he entirely grew out of afterward. He was most amiable, natural, unaffected, and merry; full of interest in everything; playing on the piano with the princess, his cousin; drawing; in short, constantly occupied. He always paid the greatest attention to all he saw, and the queen remembers well how intently he listened to the sermon preached in St. Paul's, when hlie and his father and brother accompanied the Duchess of Kent and the princess there, on the occasion of the service attended by the children of the different charity schools. It is indeed rare to see a prince, not yet seventeen years of age, bestowing, stich earnest attention on a sermon." After a stay in England of some weeks, Prince Albert returned home, and resumed his studies. Each of the cousins was highly prepossessed in favor of the other. Indeed, the princess seems to have made up her mind, on this occasions that, if public policy forbade her marrying her cousin Albert,;she would never marry at all. The eighteenth birthday of Princess Victoria, which was May the 24th, 1837, when she attained her legal majority, was celebrated throughout the British Empire as a national I

Page  421 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. festival, and her health was toasted by a million merry circles of loyal Englishmen. Almost on that very day, IKing William the Fourth, then in the seventy-second year of his age, was stricken with mortal sickness. He lingered four weeks, and then expired. It was on a fine morning in June, as early as five o'clock, that the Archbishop of Canterbury communicated the intelligence to Victoria, and saluted her as Queen of England. Later ill the day, the Ministry, the Privy Councillors, and a hundred of the principal nobility, assembled in Keinsington Palace to witness the formal proclamation of the youthful queen. " WVe publish and proclaim," shouted the herald, "that the high and mighty Princess Alexandrina Victoria is the only lawful and liege Lady, and, by the grace of God, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith." Until this moment, it is said, the young queen had maintained her self-possession; but on hearing these tremendous words, the realization of so many hopes and fond imarginings, she threw her arms about her mother's neck and sobbed. She recovered herself in a few nioments, and then the Duke of Sussex, the youngest son of George the Third, and the head of the English nobility, advanced to pay his homage by bending the knee. Her good sense and good feeling revolted against an absurdity so extreme. Do not kneel, uncle," she said, " for I am still Victoria, your niece." I1er bearing on this most trying occasion was eminently becoming; and, a few weekls later, when she prorogued Parliament in person, and spoke the royal speech from the throne of the House of Lords, she conciliated every heart by her modesty and self-possession. There was a circle of relations in Germany for whom these events possessed the deepest interest. The letter which 421

Page  422 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Prince Albert wrote to congratulate his cousin upon her accession was creditable to his taste and feeling. He was then a student at the University of Bonn, from which he wrote, June 26th, 1837: "MY DEAREST COUSIN, -I must write you a few lines to present you my sincerest felicitations on that great change which has taken place in your life. "Now you are queen of the mightiest land of Europe, in your hand lies the happiness of millions. Mlay Heaven assist yd.u, and strengthen you with its strength, in that high but difficult task! I I hope that your reign may be long, happy, and glorious, and that your efforts may be rewarded by the thankfulness and love of your subjects. " LMay I pray you to think likewise sometimes ot your cousins in Bonn, and to continue to them that kindness you favored them with till now. Be assured that our minds are always with you. "I will not be indiscreet and abuse your time. Believe me always your MAajesty's most obedient and faiithful servant, ALBEPRT." Queen Victoria was crowned at Westminster Abbey about a year after her accession, -June the 28th, 1838. It would be easy to fill many of these pages with accounts of a ceremonial which has increased in splendor as it has diminished in significance. The whole ceremony was founded upon the belief that the Sovereign represented the Majesty, and wielded the power, of the great God of heaven and earth. So long as this belief was real and unliversatl, the ceremony of the coronation, and all the complicated state and etiquette of royal life, was not altogether wantingo in propriety. It was the attempt of rude and barbarous men to express their rude 422

Page  423 YICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. and barbarous conceptions of the divine government, and the sacredness and awfulness of even its poor human representative. But people no longer believe that ally special divinity resides in, or is represented by, the convenient ducal houses of Germany, from which England borrows a monarch utpon occasion. We need not dwell therefore upon the extremely laborious and expensive way in which the English of modern times get the crown placed for a few seconds upon a sovereign's head. She was queen, then, at;length. She was the central fig(ure of a fiction as splendid as the IKenilworth of Sir Walter Scott, and all the world looked with interest upon its gorgeous illusions. In those years of her blooming youth she seemed to the imaginations of men the most brilliant and most enviable of human beings. Nevertheless, she has recently told us, that she was far from happy at that time. She could not, at first, quite reconcile her mind to be a fiction. Inheriting something of the obstinacy of her race, she desired to have her own way in some matters in which a constitutional monarch must be submissive. She had a particular prejudice against the tories, - not merely against their principles, but against their persons, - and this prejudice an unhlackneyed girl of nineteen was not likely to conceal. On the other hand, she was e.cessively fond of the whigcs, and particularly of the good-natutred premier, Lord MIelbourne, who had advised and guided her during the first anxious moments of her reign. She carried these prejudices so far, that Lord MIcll)ouI,-e himself, although at the head of the f.tvored party, remonstrated with her ulpon the subject, iand advised her to forgive and conciliate the tories. Then a-gain, beingt wairm in her friendships, she could not endure the idea of parting wvith some of the ladcies about her person, when thle tories came into power. She was very restive in this affair, and it was 423

Page  424 424 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. long before she could bend her will to the hard necessity of losing the society of her friends for reasons purely political, over which she had no control. The strangest part of her conduct was, that, as soon as she became her own mistress, she ceased to correspond with her handsome cousin in Germany. With reference to this subject the queen has written: - "The only excuse the queen can make for herself is in the fact that the change from the secluded life at Kensington to the independence of her position as Queen Regnant, at the age of eighteen, put all ideas of marriage out of her mind, which she now most bitterly repents. A worse school for a young girl, or one more detrimental to all natural feelings and affections, cannot well be imagined than the position of a queen at eighteen, without experience and without a husband to guide and support her. This the queen can state from painful experience, and she thanks God that none of her dear daughters are exposed to such danger." Prince Albert wvas naturally uneasy at her silence. A young man of twenty-one must not long delay to choose a career. So far, his life had been shaped by a secret but confident expectation that he would one day be the consort of his cousin Victoria, and if this was not to be his destiny, it was necessary to seek another. Impatient to know his fate, he came to England in October, 1839, resolved to bring the matter to a conclusion. Three years had passed since the cousins had seen one another. When last they had met, she was a girl of seventeen, living a retired life at Kensington Palace, with her mother and her tutors, with little retinue and less ostentation. Hie was but a lively lad, not grown to his full stature, and unbecomingly fat. But now how different were they both! It was half-past seven in the evening of October the 10th, 0

Page  425 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. 1839, when Prince Albert and his brother ali,ghted at the principal entrance of Windsor Castle, one of the grandestlooking, royal residences in Europe. At the top of the staircase, the queen "herself met them in evening attire, and invested with the dignity which the very title of queen seems to carry with it. Nor was the change in him less striking in a maiden's eyes. The prince had grown tall, symmetrical, and handsome. That down upon his upper lip of three years before was now an elegant mustache. He had become a man. There was also in his countenance, we are told, a gentleness of expression, and a smile of peculiar sweetness, with a look of thlloug,ht and intelligence in his clear blue eye, and fair, broad forehead, which conciliated every one who looked upon him. He was the very prince of romance, -just the hero wanted for the dazzling fiction of which Victoria was the gentle heroine. His fate was decided promptly enough. The queen was delilghted with his appearance and bearing. She conducted him herself to her mother. It was about dinner-time when they arrived, and yet they could not dine with the queen that night, for a reason which the queen herself explains: Their clothes not havingc, arrived, they could not appear at dinner, but came in after it in spite of their morningo dresses." There was a large company of lords and ministers staying at the castle then, and the etiquette of the dinner could not be dispensed with, even in favor of these young, princes. Four days sufficed! On the fourth day after the arrival of the prince, the queen told Lord Melbourne that she had made iup her mind to marry him. The minister said he was very glad to hear it, and that he thought the news would be well received. " You will be much more comfortable," added Lord Mel bourne, in his simple, fatherly manner; " for a woman cannot stand alone for any time in whatever position she may be." 425

Page  426 426 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE'. Accordin,gly, on the following day Prince Albert came in from hunting at the unusually early hour of twelve, for he had received an intimation the eveningo before that the queen had somethingo particular to say to him.' On being sum moned to the queen's presence he found her alone. Precisely what occurred onl the occasion will never be known. It seems, however, that it devolved upon the queen to propose the momentous question. The following is the prince's version of what passed, as given in a letter to his grandmother: "The subject which has occupied us so much of late is at last settled. The queen sent for me alone to her rooni a few days ago, and declared to me in a genuine outburst of love and affection that I had gained her whole heart, and would make her intensely happy if I would make her the sacrifice of sharing her life with her, for she said she looked on it as a sacrifice. The only thing which troubled her was that she did not think that she was worthy of me. The joyous openness of manner in which she told me this quite enchanted me, and I was quite carried away by it. She is really most good and amiable, and I am quite sure Heaven has not given me into evil hands, and that we shall be happy together. Since that moment Victoria does whatever she fancies I should wish or like, and we talk together a great deal about our future life, which she promises me to make as happy as possible. Oh, the future! does it not bring with it the moment when I shall have to take leave of my dear, dear home, and of you? I cannot think of that without deep melancholy taking possession of me." As soon as the interview was over, the queen, according to her custom, recorded her feelings in her diary. "How I will strive," she wrote, in the first gush of tender emotion, "to make him feel as little as possible the great sacrifice he has made I I told him it was a great sacrifice on his

Page  427 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. part, but he would not allow it. I then told him to fetch Er nest (his brother), who congratulated us both and seemed very happy. Ernest told me how perfect his brother was." The same afternoon, she wrote to her Uncle Leopold, Icingy of the Belgians, who had fiom the first favored the match most wvarmnly. This letter is highly creditable to the, good, simple heart of the maiden queen: " iMy mind is quite made up, and I told Albert this morning of it. The warm affection he showed me on learning this gave.me great pleasure. He seems perfection, and I think that I have the prospect of very great happiness before me. I love him 10ORE than I can say, and shall do everythingi in my power to render this sacrifice (for such in my opinion it is) as small as I can. Ile seems to have great tact,- a very necessary thing in his position. These last few days have passed like a dream to me, and I am so much bewildered by it all that I know hardly how to write; but I do feel very happy. It is absolutely necessary that this determination of mine should be known to no one but yourself and to Uncle Ernest until after the meeting of Parliament, as it would be considered, otherwise, neglectful on my part not to have assembled Parliament at once to ilform them of it." To which the good old king replied, very sensibly and happily: - "In your position... you could not EXIST without having a happy and agreeable'inte6rieur.' An)d I am mulch deceived (which I think I am not), or you will find in Albert just the qualities and disposition which are indispensable for your happiness, and which will suit your own character, temper, and mode of life. You say most amiably that you coInsider it a sacrifice on the part of Albert. This is true in many 427

Page  428 428 EMINENT WOMEN OF. THE AGE. points, because his position will be a difficult one; but much, I may say all, will depend on your affection for him. If You love him, and are kind to him, he will easily bear the bothers of his position, and there is a steadiness, and, at the same time, a cheerfulness in his character which will facilitate this." Nothing remained but to announce the intended marriage to the Privy Council, and through the council to the country. The council met, November 23d, to the number of eighty, in one of the large rooms of Buckingham Palace, the queen's London residence. It devolved upon the queen herself to make the announcement to this formidable company. "Precisely at two," the queen wrote in her diary, "I went in. The room was full, but I hardly knew who was there. Lord MAelbourne I saw looking kindly at me with tears in his eyes, but he was not near me. I then read my short ~eclaration. I felt my hands shook, but I did not make one mistake. I felt most happy and thankful when it was over. Lord Lansdowne then rose, and, in the name of the Privy Council, asked that'this most gracious and most welcome communlication might be printed.' I then left the room, the whole thing not lasting above two or three minutes. The Duke of Cambridge came into the small library where I was standing and wished me joy." The queen wore a bracelet in which there was a portrait of Prince Albert, and she says in her journal, "It seemed to give.me courage at the council." On the 11th of February, 1840, at the royal chapel of St. James, in London, in the presence of all that was most disting,uished and splendid in the life of Great Britain, the marriage was solemnized. The queen, as brides generally do, looked pale and anxious. Her dress was a rich white satin, trimmed with orange blossoms, and upon her head she wore a wreath of the sante beautiful flowers. Over her head, but

Page  429 VICTrORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. not so as to conceal her face, a veil of Honiton iace was thrown. She was sparingly decorated with diamonds. She wore, however, a pair of very large diamond ear-rings, and a diamond necklace. Her twelve bridesmaids were attired in similar taste, and they wera all young ladies of remarkable beauty. Prince Albert was dressed in the uniform of a British field-marshal, and was decorated with the collar and star of the Order of the Garter. At the moment when the queen and prince advanced to the communion-table, and stood before the Archbishop of Canterbury, the scene was in the highest degree splendid and interesting. But its splendors seemed to fade away before the majestic simplicity of the marriage service. There was really a kind of sublimity in the plainness and directness of the langruagce employed: "Albert, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?" and "Victoria, wilt thou have Albert to be thy wedded husband?" and "Who givet~ this woman to be married to this man?" To this last question the Duke of Sussex replied by taking the queen's hand and saying, "I do." Perhaps some in the assembly may have smiled when the Queen of England promised to obey this younger son of a German Duke, and when he said, "With all my worldly goods I thee endow." The queen tells us, however, that she pronounced the word obey with a deliberate intent to keep her vow, and that she kept it. There was, of course, the wedding, breakfast at Buckingham Palace, which was attended by the royal family, the ministry, the maids of honor, and other personal attendants of the queen and prince. Soon after seven o'clock iu the evening, the royal chariot dashed into Windsor with its escort of lifeguards, amid the cheers of the whole population of the town. The honeymoon was spent at Windsor Castle. Prince Albert gave himself entirely up to the duties of his position and gradually relieved the queen from the burdens 420 I6

Page  430 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. of royalty. At first, he was not present at the interviews between the queen and lher ministers, unless specially invited, but after a year or two he was present as a matter of course, and the queen invariably acted in accordance with his advice. He was, ill fact, as much IKing of England as though he had been born to the title. He said himself, in a letter to the Duke of Wellington, declining the command of the army, that his principle of action was "to sink his own individual existence in that of his wife,- to aim at no power by himself or for himself, -to shun all ostentation, - to assume no separate responsibility befoire the public." Desiring, he added, to make his position a part of the queenl's, he considered it his duty " continually and anxiously to watch every part of the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult questions brought before her,- sometimes political, or social, or personal, - as the natural head of her family, superintendent of her household, manager of her private affairs; her sole confidential adviser in politics, and only assistant in her communications with the officers of the government." To his father, he wrote, a few months after his marriage: Victoria allows me to take much part ill fo)reign affairs, and I think I have already done some good. I always commit my views to paper, and then communicate them to Lord Melbourne. He seldom answers me, but I have often had the satisfaction of seeing him act entirely in accordance with what I have said." And ag,ain, in the following year: "I study the politics of the day with great industry, and resolutely hold myself aloof from all parties. I take active interest in all national institutions and associations. I speak quite openly with the ministers on all subjects, so as to obtain information, and meet on all sides with much kindness.... I endeavor $ 4.30

Page  431 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. quietly to be of as much use to Victoria in her position as I Call. " Provided thus with a mate so suitable and so efficient, the life of Queen Victoria did not essentially differ from that of any other wife and mother of rank in England, except that it was a thousand times happier than married life usually is ill any rank. Happiness in married life depends upon several thing,s; but its fundamental condition is, the hearty acceptance and patient, cheerful discharge of the ditties of the position. This condition was nobly complied with by this fortunate pair. lhenl the queen was urged to assert her authority as head of the house and nation, since her husband was but one of her subjects, she was not for an instant deceived by such sophistry. She would reply, that she had solemnly promised at the altar to obey her husband, and that she would never consent to limit or refine away the obligation. Both of them thus accepting the duties which nature and circumstances had assigned them, and each having for the other a genuine respect and affection, they were as happy as people.can rationally expect to be in this world. November 21st, 1840, the princess royal was born. Two days after, the prince wrote to his father: "Victoria is as well as if nothing had happened. She sleeps well, has a good appetite, acnd is extremely quiet and cheerful." The queen was soon able to record in her ditary, which she did with a full heart, that during, the time of her confinement "his care and devotion were quite beyond expression." And (,gain: "No one but himself ever lifted her from her bed to her sofa, and he always helped to wheel her on her bed or sofa into the next room. For this purpose he would come instantly when sent for from any part of the house. As years went on, and he became overwhelmed with work (for his attentions were the same in all the queen's subsequent confinements), this was often done at much inconvenience to 431

Page  432 432 EMINENT WOMEN OF THITE AGE. himself; but he ever came with a sweet smile on his face. In short," the queen adds, "his care of her was like that of a mother, nor could there be a killder, wiser, or more judicious nurse." Both the parents were for a moment disappointed that their first-born was not an heir to the throne. They had not long, to wait for consolation. The following is a list of their children: 1. Victoria, the Princess Royal, - now the wife of the heirapparent to the throne of Prussia, - born November 21st, 1840. 2. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, heir-apparenit, born November 9th, 1841. 3. Princess Alice Maude Mary, born April 25th, 1843. 4. Prince Albert Ernest Albert, born August 6th, 1844. 5. Princess IHelena Augusta Victoria, born May, 25th, 1846. 6. Princess Louisa Caroline Alberta, born May 18th, 1848. 7. Prince Arthur William Patrick Albert, born May 1st, 1850. 8. Prince Leopold George Duncan Albert, born April 7th, 1853. 9. Princess Beatrice Mary Victoria Feodore, born April 15th, 1857. All of these children are still living, -the eldest twentyeight, the youngest eleven. They appear to have been brought up in the most simple and sensible manner. The queen records several times, in her Highland Diary, that when the family chanced to be separated fiom their attendants, she heard her children say their lessons herself. Thus on board the yacht, she writes, "I contrived to give Vicky (Victoria, the princess royal) a little lesson by making her read in her English history." On this subject our own gifted and excel 0

Page  433 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. lent Grace Greenwood has.recently related some extremely pleasing anecdotes. When I was in England," writes Grace Greenwood, in the '"Advance" "I heard several pleasant anecdotes of the queen and her family, from a lady who received them of her friend, the governess of the royal children. This governess, a very interestitng, young lady, was the orphan daughter of a Scottish clergy'man. During the first year of her residence at Windsor, her mother died. When she first received news of her serious illness, she applied to the queen for permission to resign her situation, feeling that to her mother she owed a more sacred duty than even to her sovereign. The queen, who had been much pleased with her, would not hear of her making this sacrifice, but said, in a tone of the most gentle sympathy, - "Go at once to your mother, child; stay with her as long as she needs you, and then come back to us. I will keep your place for you. Prince Albert and I will hear the children's lessons; so in any event let your mind be at rest in regard to your pupils.' The governess went, and had several weeks of sweet, mournful communion with her dying mother; then, when she had seen that dear form laid to sleep under the daisies in the kirk-yardcl, she returned to the palace, where the loneliness of royal gran.deur would have oppressed her sorrow ing heart beyond endurance, had it not been for the gracious, womanly sympathy of the queen, who canme, every day, to her school-room, and the considerate kindness of her young pupils. "A year went by; the first anniversary of her great loss d(lawned upon her, and she was overwhelmed as never before by the utter loneliness of her grief. She felt that no one in all that great household knew how much goodness and sweetness passed out of mortal life, that day, a,year ago, or 28 433

Page  434 434 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. could give with her, one tear, one thought, to that grave under the Scottish daisies. Every morningl, before breakfast,- which the elder children took with their father and mother, in the pleasant crimson parlor looking out on the terrace at Windsor, - her pupils came to the school-room, for a brief religious exercise. This morning the voice of the governess trembled in reading the Scripture for the day; some words of divine tenderness were too much for her poor, lonely, grieving heart; her strength gave way, and, laying her head on the desk before her, she burst into tears, murmuring, —, "' 0 mother! mother!' "One after another the children stole out of the room, and went to their mother, to tell her how sadly their governess was feeling; and that soft-hearted monarch exclaiming, 0 poor girl! it is the anniversary of her mother's death,' hurried to the school-room, where she found Miss struggling to regain her composure. "'My poor child!' she said.'I am sorry the children disturbed you this morning. I meant to have given orders that you should have this day entirely to yourself; take it as a sad and sacred holiday. I will hear the lessons of the children.' And then she added,' To show you that I have not forgotten this mournful anniversary, I bring you this gift,' clasping on her arm a beautiful mourning bracelet, attached to which was at locket for her mother's hair, marked with the date of that mother's death. What wonder that the orphan kissed, with tears, this gift, and the more than royal hand that bestowed it! This was Victoria, fifteen years ago; and I don't believe she has morally':.Ivanced backward' since then. Another anecdote illustrating Victoria's admirable good sense and strict domestic discipline, came to me directly firom one who witnessed the occurrence.

Page  435 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. "One day, when the queen was present in her carriage, at a military review, the princess royal, then rather a wilful girl of about thirteen, sitting on the front seat, seemed disposed to be rather familiar and coquettish with some young, officers of the escort. Her Majesty gave several reproving looks, without avail;'winked at her, but she wouldn't stay winked.' At length, in flirting her handkerchief over the side of the carriage, she dropped it,- too evidently not accidentally. Instantly two or three young heroes sprang from their saddles to return it to her fair hand; but the awful voice of royalty stayed them. "' Stop, gentlemen!' exclaimed the queen;'leave it just where it lies. Now, my daughter, get down from the carriage and pick up your handkerchief.' "There was no help for it. The royal footmen let down the steps for the little, royal lady, who proceeded to lift from the dust the pretty piece of cambric and lace. She blushed a good deal, though she tossed her head saucily, and she was doubtless angry enough. But the mortifying lesson may have nipped in the bud her first impulse towards coquetry. It was hard, but it was wholesome. I-ow many American mothers would be equal to such a piece of Spartan discipline?" I will venture to borrow another pretty story from Grace Greenwood's budglet. The following anecdote was related to her by the hero of it. "iMy friend, Mr. W, is a person of very artistic tastes,- a passionate picture lover. He had seen all the great paintings in the public galleries of Lon((on, and had a strong desire to see those of Buckingham Palatce, which, that not being a'show-house,' were inaccessible to an ordinary connoisseur. Fortune favored him at last. Ile was the br )ther of a London carpet merchant, who had orders to 435

Page  436 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. put down new carpets in the state apartments of the palace. And so it chanced that the temptation came to my friend to put on a workman's blouse, and thus enter the royal precincts, while the flag indicating the presence of the august family floated defiantly over the roof. "So he effected an elltrance; and, when once within the royal halls, dropped his assumed character, and devoted himself to the pictures. It happened that he remained in one of the apartments after the workmen had left, and while quite alone, the queen came tripping in, wvearing a platin white morning dress, and followed by two or three of her youinger children, dressed with like simplicity. She approached the supposed workman, and said, "'Pray, can you tell me when the new carpet wvill be put down in the Privy Council Chamber?' "And he, thinking he had no right to recognize the queen under the circumstances, replied, Really, madam, I cannot tell, but I. will inquire.' "Stay,' she said, abruptly, but not unkindly;'who are you? I perceive that you are not one of the workmen.' "IMr. A, blushing and stammering somewhat, yet made a clean breast of it and told the simple truth. The queen seemed much amutsed with his ruse, and for the sake of his love for the art forgave it; then added, smililng,,'I knew for all your dress that you were a gentleman, be cause you did not "Your Majesty" me. Pray look at the pictures as long as you will. Good-morning,! Come chicks, we must g,o.'" These are but trifles; but they serve to show tlhe queen's simple and kindly character. Her Iighiland Diary, recently pubt)lished, abounds in similar trifles, and exhibits to us the picture of a happy family, always delighted to escape from the trammelling etiquette and absurd splendors of their rank, 436

Page  437 VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. and capable of being, pleased with those natural pleasures which are accessible to most of mankind. "I told Albert," wrote the queen once, "that formerly I was too happy to go to London and wretched to leave it, and how, since the blessed hour of my marriage, and still more since the summer, I dislike and am unhappy to leave the country, and could be content and happy never to go to town. This pleased him. The solid pleasures of a peaceful, quiet, yet mnerry life in the country, with my inestimable husband and friend, my all in all, are far more durable than the amusements of London, thoug,h we don't despise or dislike these sometimes." Alas! that a union productive of so much happiness and so much good should have been prematurely sundered by death. In the spring of 1862 the Prince was attacked at Windsor Castle by a disease which the physicians pronounced to be gastric fever. After a short illness the patient sank into a kind of stupor, from which he roused himself with ever-increasing difficulty. Americans will never forget that the last act of this truly wise andl noble prince was to review the draft of the letter which the ministry proposed to send to the American government, demanitding the return of the confederate commnissioners taken firom a British Mail Steamer by Captain Wilkes, of the United States Navy. Every tory mind in the universe desired that letter to be couched in such language as would preclude the possibility of a peaceful issue. But Prince Albert had not a tory mind. Collecting, with a great effort, his benumbing faculties, he read the letter carefuilly over, and suggested chlinges which softened its tone, and made far easier a compliance with its just demands. Soon after the performane of this duty, so honorable to his memory, he relapsed into a letharg,y from 437

Page  438 438 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. which death alone released him. The queen was heart. broken. Ever since that lamentable day, she has been a mourner. Her own pathetic words touchingly express the sense she had of his value to her, and of the irreparable nature of her loss. "It will now be, in ftact," she said, "the beginningi of a new reign." I have spoken of the sovereignty of this lady as a "fiction," and compared it with one of the romantic creations of Sir Walter Scott. It is not, however, wholly fictitious. In one respect, it has been a solid and precious reality. The time has not yet come when nations can safely dispense with imposiing and venerable fictions; and until they can, it is hilghly desirable that those fictions should not be too closely inspected, nor too frankly criticised. If the sailor-king, WTilliam the Fourth, had been succeeded by another male creature so devoid of all human worth and di,gnity as Georige the Fourth, so licentious, so extravl,gant, so iygnorant, and so vain, could he have reigned over England for thirty peaceful years? Probably not. Long ere this, the sensible people of Great Britain would lhave begtii to ask thlemselves, " Why maintain this costly pageant, since it is but a piageant?" The reign of this virtuous aind amiable queen has postponed this question for thirty years, during which the people of Englatnd have been gainingi political knowledge and experience, and drawing nearer the time when it will be safe and expedient to let that man have the name of governing England who does actually bear the chief part in governing,. History will, perhaps, decide that this was the chief service which Queen Victoria rendered her country.

Page  439 ADELAIDE RISTORI. EMINENT WOMEN OF THE DRAMA. BY WILLIAM WINTER. No record of Eminent Women would be complete without some reference to representative actresses. In these the his tory of the stage, especially within the last t'wo hundred years, is abundantly rich. Since the theatre was re-established in England, at the restoration of the monarchy, in 1660, many brilliant women have practised its art and won its laurels. Many bright names, therefore, appear in the catalogue of famous actresses, from the time of Elcanor Gwyii and Mrs. Sanderson to the time of Helen Faucit and Mrs. Lander. Each successive generation has had its favorite theatrical hleroines. Mrs. Pritchard, Mrs. Oldfield, Pe, IVoflington, Anne Bracegirdle, IKitty Clive, Miss Farren, IMrs. Siddons, Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Jordan, Eliza O'Neill, Louisa Brunton, Sally Booth, Maria Foote, Mrs. Nisbett, Ellen Tree, Adelaide and Fanny IKemble, - these names, and many more, sparkle with fadeless lustre on that ample and storied page of dramatic history. Nor are they merely names. The triumphs of genlius outlast all other triumphs. Kiings and warriors may be remembered as shadows; but the fair conquerors of the stage inspire a warmer interest and live in a more vivid remembrance. Painlting immortalizes their dead and gone beauty. Tradition preserves the memory of their achievements. Literature cherishes the lustrous record 439 N

Page  440 440 EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE. of their lives and deeds. That record, from the days of Gerard Lan,gbaine to the days of Thomas Campbell, Leigh Hunt, AVilliam Hazlitt, and Charles Lamb, has instructed and charmed a vast multitude of readers. No story, in truth, can be more impressive or more affecting. Gelliis, beauty, renown, the pageantry of public careers, the wild tumult of popular applahuse, lives of stainless integrity and heroic selfsacrifice, and lives of glittering infamy, lawless revel, and lamentable ainguish, - such are the elements of a narrative that no sympathetic mind can contemplate without emotion or without improvement. To add one brief page to that story - a leaf from the present time- is the purpose of this sketch. Its group of actresses must, necessarily, be a small one, since its scope is restricted within narrow limits. The artists herein described, however, are typical of different nationalities and different orders of talent. As such - and not in lnegligence of the signal ability and reputation of many of their contemporaries - they have been selected for present description. I. ADELAIDE RISTORI.' To all votaries of the stage, Adelaide Ristori is a familiar and an honored name. On the 20th of September, 1866, the great Italian actress made her first professional appearance in America. Since then she has acted in nearly all the importanlt cities in the United States. The way had been smoothed for her comingl. Long, before she came, portions of her story had been widely circulated in the Press, and her name had become known in almost every household. The record of her life illustrates the development of an original nature and the progress of singular genius. It commences

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Page  441 ADELAIDE RISTORI. in 1826, when Adelaide Ristori was born, in the obscure Venetian city of Cividale del Friuli, Her parents, Antonio Ristori and AIaddelena Pomatelli, his wife, were players, members of a strolling theatrical company, and very poor. The little Adelaide made her first appearance on the stage when she was only two months old, being carried on in a basket, in the representation of a comedy called "The New Year's Gift." When four years old, she began to e.nact juvenile parts, in which, as she was a bright and pretty child, she speedily became a favorite. Her first teacher wvas her paternal grandmother; and very hard work that teacher ha.d to do,- since the pupil evinced far more partiality for music than for acting,, and was not, without great difficulty, diverted from the former to the latter. Perseverance, thlough, bent the twig, and so gave the desired inclinatioii to the tree. As the child grew, her sphliere of employment began to broaden. From juvenile parts she passed to the line of "chambermnaids," in which, at the agce of twelve, she was notably proficient. Her labor at this time maimly supported her parents, and her six brothers and sisters - youlnger than herself. Cha-nge of place was, of course, frequent, in this nomadic period of her career. The first fixed dramatic company with which she became connected was that of the IKing of Sardinia, established at Turin. In this city she found her second teacher, Carlotta Marchioni, a famous actress in her day, and not less generous thanl eminent. To this artist the young Ristori was indebted for sound teaching and judicious encouragement. At times the eccentric old actress would call her " an imbecile," and bid her "go and wash dishes." At other times, when the girl's acting justified approval, she would feign severity and fondly murmur, "I'll have no more to do with you! you act too much as I would have you." In brief, MIarchioni had discovered the germ of genius in this bud of womanhood, and she lovingly and faithfully labored to devel 441

Page  442 442 EMINENT WOMEN OF'HE AGE. op it into the perfect flowver. With the Turin compa-ny Ris. tori remained until 1841, when she accepted an engagitement in the Ducal company of Parma. The next five years of her life were full of labor, variety, and advancement. Her best successes were won in comedy; but she also attained distinction as all interpreter yf the romantic drama. That she was surpassingly beautiful in those days call easily be imagiled by all who remember the superb charms of her mature womanhood. But she conquered not less by virtue and genius than by personal beauty. In 1846, Guliano del Grillo, son and heir to the wealthy Marchese Capranica, saw Adelaide Ristori, loved her, and won her heart. The parents of the youngi nobleman, howvever, sternly fi)rbade him to marry a woman who was not only sprung of humble origin but was an actress. The consequence of this parental opposition was a stolen marriage between these lovers. Not without great difficulty, thou,gh, were bride and bridegroom united. Some time after their marriage, which was hastily contracted at a little church near Cesena (Ristori being then on her way from Rome to Florence, to fulfil a professioinal engagement in the latter city), del Grillo had to make his escape from potent and dreaded parental vigilance, disguised as a peasant and mounted on a mule-wagon, - in which trim he passed safely through many perils, and came at last to Florence and to his wife. Finding their opposition vain, the parents presently relented, and a general reconciliation was attained. In the meanwhile the marriage of Ristori anid del Grillo, originally one of public proclamation, -a valid ceremony in the Ro magna, in default of the usual rite,- had been solemnly ratified, at Rome, by Cardinal Pacca. Thus, in honor and eminence, closed the first chlapter in the brilliant life of the actress. Iu deference to the wish of her husband's fimily, she nowV retired from the stage. A brief period of domestic repose succeeded. But the genius of Ristori, not yet fully sat

Page  443 ADELAIDE RISTORI. isfied by expression, fretted in retirement and longed for its wonted field of labor. The fetters were soon broken. Hearing that one of her former managers had been imprisoned for debt, the actress determined to give three performances for his benefit. In pursuance of this resolve, she returned to the stage. Her reappearance was made at Rome, in 1849; and so great was her success that the populace stormed the theatre, and wildly demanded her formal and permanent resumption of her legitimate pursuit. Upon all hands her greatness was acklnowledged. Even the noble relatives bent to the spell of this victorious hour. Aristocratic scruples were laid aside; a beneficent genius was left free to pursue its natural course; and, fiom that day to this, Adelaide Ristori has labored almost constantly in the service of the drama. Nor, in so laboring, has she neglected even the least of the duties of private life. Cherished as a wife, reverenced as a mother, and extolled throughout the civilized world as an.tetress, she is a living rebuke to the idle and petty theory that woman cannot devote herself to an independent pursuit without sacrificing the sanctities of her home. Ristori's first efforts i'Y tragedy were made after her reappearance at R,ome. It was then, indeed, that she determined to dedicate herself to this branch of her art. A renowned Italian actress, Caroline Internari, advised her to this intent; and experience has shown the wisdom of that advice. Step by step, in the course of nineteen years, Ristori has risen to the first eminence among the tragic actresses of her time. Upon the Italian stage her rank was attained with comparative ease. She played many parts; but the culmination of her national success was marked by her performance of Alfieri's 3ljYrrha, in 1850. It is a terribly painful impersonation, but it is wonderfully strong. Outside of Italy and France, thlough, it has never been regarded with much enthusiasm — save that of horror; and there seems no especial 413

Page  444 444 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. need o)f pausing upon it here. From Italy Ristori turned her eyes to France. To conquer Paris would be to conquer Europe; for Paris was the art-capital of the continent. Taking all the risks, therefore, Ristori selected an Italian conmpany and made her way to the renowned metropolis. It was during the season of the first Universal Exposition, on the 22d of May, 1855, that she made her first appearance in Paris. Silvio Pellico's "Francesca da Rimini "-embodying that sweet, sad story which readers of English poetry have learned by heart in the tenderly musical and delicately colored poem of Leigh Hunt -was the openingi piece ill this important season. Ristori played Francesca. It is a character that reveals her sweetness more than her strength; but her personation of it was a perfect success. Seven nights afterwards she played -Ify. rha. All Paris was at her feet. "Ristori," wrote Jules Janin, then the representative dramatic critic - she is tragedly itself; she is comedy; she is the drama." Our langua,ge is too poor," said Lailartine, "to express the worth of that woman." IHer first season in Paris extended to the 10th of September. At its close she had given three representations of FIancesca, seventeen of lfIyrdha, twenty-two of 3iarcty Sttart, and seven of Pia da Tolom)ei; and she had earned half a million franctes. More than that- she had conquered the capital. All the intellect and culture of Paris honored the artist; AryScheffer painted her portrait; the Italian residents of Paris (gave her a medal; and a diamond bracelet, presented by the Emperor of the French, testified to the imperial homag,e of "NaLpoleon III. to Adelaide Ristori." Her second season in Paris was like the first; nor didl less success attend her in the other great cities of Europe. At the subsequent incidents of hei European career it is only needful to glance in brief and rapid review. In 1857 she visited Spain; and it is recorded, in illustration of her marvellous personal magnetism, that,

Page  445 ADELAIDE RISTORI. on one occasion duringo this visit, she so wroiught upon the feelings of Queen Isabella, as to procure the pardon of a poor soldier, condemned to death for a breach of martial discipline. In 1858 she was in Berlin, and was decorated, by the King, of Prussia, wvith the "Order of Mcrit," - never before attained by a woman, - in honorable recognition of her aetin( as Deborcah (the "Leahl " of the American staoge). In 1860 she played a brilliant engageinent.it St. Petersl)Lrg. So far in Italian. Now, however, she was persuaded to achieve renown in French. Her first venture iln this 1la,nguage was made at the Odeon, in Paris, in 1861, in the character of Beatti-., in a drama expressly written for her by Leg,ouve6. It proved a hit. The piece was played eilghty iighlts in that year, and afterwards, in 1865, was prosperously revived, both in the capital and in the provincial cities of France. At one time Ristori travelled with two distinct dramatic companies, one Italian and the other French. To London she went in 1863. Mary St?tart and Qteen Elizabeth were tlhere accounted her best impersonations; and, as every theatrical community in America can now testify, they are entirely superb) and peerless worls of art. In 1864 Piistori went to Egypt and gave thirty-seven performances at Alexandria. Still later she played at Constantinople, at Athens, and at Smyrna. In 1865 she visited Ho11(land,. by invitation of the University of Utrecht. By this time she h:ad tttained all possibl)e professional honors in the old world, and it was only natural that she should turn her eyes across the sea. Ristori's American career, as already mentioned, began on the 20th of September, 1866,- -her appearance being made under the direction of iMr. J. Gran. The event is remembered as one of the most interesting and exciting, that have, of late years, marked the history of the stage. The place was the French Theatre, in New York city. The house was densely crowded. Ristori's entrance, in the first act of "Medea," was 445

Page  446 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. awaited with almost breathless suspense, and was greeted with a tumult of joyful enthusiasm. No artist, indeed, could wish for a heartier welcome than American audiences habitually accord to a stranger. Nor, in the case of Ristori, did this spontaneous cordiality abate, as the performance proceeded; for the actress was recalled at the end of each act, and three times at the end of the play. Every heart felt the presence of an extraordinary woman. HLIer majesty of person and demeanor; her gracious dignity; her powerfiul and perfectly melodious voice,- the grandest voice that has been heard on the stage in modern times; her stately, Roman head; dark, flashing gray eyes; wonderfil mobility of feature; luxuriant freedom and massive grace of gesture; and, above all, the sense that lhung, about her of exhaustless reserve power, - could not fail, in truth, to thrill the sensitive, sympathetic American temperament. Then, too, her personation of lJedlea disclosed, as in a comprehensive picture, all the chief faculties and qualities of her genius. After-performances did, of courses make them more fully and definitely known; but this performance seemed to crystallize them all. In the tragedy of "Medea" an irresistible appeal is made to sympathy with both passionate and maternal love, - each of which is seen to be scorned and outraged, - and also to admiration for a brilliant personality. Medea, a barbaric princess, has not only been deserted by her husband, whom she loves with an intense and wild ardor that is figihtful and almost impious, but her childreni are taken from her, even at the supreme moment of agony when her recreant husband has cast her off in scorn, and announced his design to wed another woman. To be wronged as a wife was a sufficiently miserable disaster. To be wronged as a mother is an overwhelming calamity. The double blow breaks Mledea's heart and crazes her brain, that is predisposed to madness. Then, in the poisoning of her rival and the 44C)

Page  447 ADELAIDE RISTORI. slaughter of her children before the altar of Saturn, the clima x of her life is attained simultancously with the crisis of her anguish. Excepting Killy Lear,- the most awful and the most pathetic creation in dramatic literature, l- e(lea is, perhaps, the fullest embodiment known to the stage of pitiable desolation and passionate delirium. Love that bears fruit in wickedness, cruel desertion, loing and wretched wanderings, penury, hunger, cold, the gradual wasting of mind an d body, gleams of hope extinguished by scornful insult, then ffiry ove rleapiing love, then a few faint flutteritigs of natural tenderness, then chaos,- such is the hard and heartbreakin g story of Medcea. The beginning,, classic beauty, innocence, pastoral tranquillity; the end, a broken heart and a shattered brain. Few women have succeeded in playing the part at all. Most actresses who have essayed it have merel y s wamped themselves in vehemence and noise. Only one pe rsonation of it, in our day, can justly be compared wit h Ristori's, and that is the work of the great German actress, F anny Janausclhek. It is, indeed, no lighlt matter to satisf y the requirements of this part, in even the siingle requisite of maternal love. Not every actress can personattc a mother. R istori, however, at all points throulghout her personatio n of -Iedea, showed great genius and great capacities for its expression. In appearance, she was a perfect type of classic beauty. In spirit, she was a perfect type of fiery vitality. He r subtle knowledge of the human heart, her profound pathos, her extraordinary capacity for the utterance of vehemnent passion, her glowino imagination, her stateliness of intellect, and her thorough culture in dramatic art, all found utterance in this superb dramatic effort. Thus, at the outset, she conquered American admiration. The victory thus begun by her lledea, was finished by her l31aiy Stytart and her Queen Elizabeti. With these three characters her name will forever be identified, in the history of the stage. HIer 447

Page  448 448 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. Elizabeth, ill particular, was pre-eminently great. Seeing, Ristori in that assumption, you saw a woman who wvas mnanifestly born to rule; who swayed everythiing around her with an iron will; who had never even dreamed of doul)ting, her divine right of monarchy; but who, nevertheless, was the victim of human palssions, human weakness, and thlat sorrow which is Heaven's discipline for all mankind. Pride was never depicted better than in her arrogant scorn of rival genius and alspiraltion, and in her martial defiance of a dangerous enemy, - Philip II., of Spain. Valor found its most chivalric utterance, when she drew the sword of her father, King Henry VIII. Love - the dangerous gentleness and glittering passion of the tigress - was fully portrayed in her fata,l dalliance with the brave Earl of Essex. For the rest: vanity, spite, spleen, malignant cruelty, and hypocrisy -all that composed the imperial weakness of the "virrgin queen "-were minutely painted in her atrocious conduct toward the captive Queen of Scots. Ilow massive was the nature of the great monarch you could easily comprehend, in contemnplating, the splendid art of the actress, - her struggles between duty and passion, her terrific remorse, and her lonely, desolate death. Ristori interpreted many other characters while she was in America; but never one tlhat so captivated the popular heart. Time may impair the recollection of the actress in other parts; but it cap never dim in menmory her lustrous iimage of England's grandest queen. Ana-lysis of all her persona,tions is, of course, impossible here; but mention of all may usefully be made. She aippe.tred here, during her first eDngagement, as Afedea, -,Vary Stuart, Queen Elizabeth, Pleedra, Judith, Pia de Tolomiiei, Frantcesca da Rimini, Adrienne Lecouvreur, Tltisbe, Cai)zna, Mlfyrrha, Deborah, Nornma, and Lady Macbeth. That engagement, including her tour outside of New York, extended over a period of eilght months, in the course of which time she gave

Page  449 ADELAIDE RISTORI. one hundred and sixty-eight performances. The last of these occurred at the French Theatre, in New York, on the night of the 17th of May, 1867, when she took a farewell benefit, appearing as Medea. Her first speech in English was made on this occasion, when, at the end of the performance, she came forward, in response to the call of the audience, and spoke the followiig words: — LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,- This is the first moment of profound sorrow I have known in this country. To bid adieu to New Yolrk, the birthplace of my success, - to say farewell to the United States, that have everywhere received me with op)en arms, - awakens emotions too deep for any words my poor tongue can utter. My visit to America is the grand event of my life; - grand in its temerity, grander yet in its triumphs. Your enthusiasm, your munificence, your goodness, I shall remember long, and gratefully; remember till memory decays and my heart ceases to throb. Adieu I" On the followingr day Ristori sailed for Europe; but in the autumn of 1867 she returned to New York, and commenced, on t he 18thl of September, her second, and last, American engagement. This was signalized by the production, on the 7th of October, of a new drama, then acted for the first time, Signor Giacommetti's "Marie Antoinette." The play is so constructed that it depicts the queen at various chief periods in her career. Its action commences in 1786, and terminates in 1793. Comedy and tragedy blend in it, and exact from the actress the utmost versatility and the deepest emotion. Ristori amply satisfied the demand. By all who saw the personation, her llatie Atzoinette will ever be remembered as a stately image of majesty and sorrow. In the drama, as ill history, Marie Antoinette is seen to have been subjected to bitter injustice and insult: ruthlessly separated from her hus 29 449

Page  450 450 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. band; harrowed by the knowledge of his death upon the guillotine; torn from her children; plunged into the deeps of agony and despair; and, finally, led forth to die amid the jeers of the brutal, infernal mob of the French revolution. Her experience, indeed, was the epitome of all miseries; but, over all miseries her indomitable constancy rematined the victor. Ristori realized this ideal of suffering and fortitude. Her Malctrie A)ttoinette was a beautiful, brilliant woman, a loving wife, a fond mother, a proud-spirited queen, a profound sufferer, an exalted conqueror of all the ills of a most wretched fate. In two of the scenes, the pathos of her acting was such as no words can express. One scene, at the end of the fourth act, represented the parting betwixt Louis XVI. and his wife and children. Overcome by his emotions, the king, who knows himself condemned to die, rushes away into his oratory, and closes and faistens the door behind him. The queen and children pursue him: and then it was that Ristori, bursting into a delirium, beat upon the door with both her hands, and cried out upon his name, " Ah! Luigi, una parola una sola! " and wruing every heart with grief and pity. The other scene represented the wife and children, kneeling in prayer for the husband and father, at that moment on his way to the guillotine. The roll of drums and the wail of the dead-march sounds in their ears, even while they pra.y, but continually grows fainter and fainter until it dies away in the distance. Ristori's face was a perfect picture of convulsive agony. A stupendous sorrow struggled in it with a vain, despairing effort at resignation. These scenes always proluced an extraordinary effect upon the spectators. IIistori cally accurate in every detail, and literally true to nature in every phase of emotion, Ristori's Marie Antoiaette lives, in deed, in many memnories, as the best of all her impersona tions. To have seen this piece of acting is to have appre hended every aspect of the French Revolution, - its horror,

Page  451 ADELAIDE RISTORI. its pathos, its hideous details, its retributive justice, and its full social significance. RPistori's second American engagement lasted nine months. IIcr last appearance ill New York was made on the 26th of June, 1868, as Queen Elizabeth. The chief new part that she played during, her final season was I&abella Suarez, in a five-act dirama, of a religious character, entitled " Sor Teresa," the work of Signor Luigi Camoletti. The entire number of performances given durinog her second engagement was one hundred and eighty-one, of which fifty-six were given in the island of Cuba. Hier prosperity in America was very great. Personally as well as professionally she made the most pleas ing impression throughout this country. "Away from the theattre," wrote one of her most earnest critics and devoted students,- Kate Field, - sne is the most human (and humane), the most simnple, the most unaffected, the most sympathetic of women. So strongly is the line drawn between reality and fiction, that, in Ristori's presence, it requires a mental effort to recall her histrionic greatness."... That greatness, however, must forever survive in the history of the sta,ge. Putting aside all differences of critical opinion, one thotugh,t is held in common by all who have watched her career and studied her achievements. That thought is, that she possesses a great intellect, a good heart, and a pure nature, and that she has exercised the best possible influence upoli the dramtna. True to herself as well as to her profession, by her personal worth and private virtues she has attained a social station commensurate in eminence with that which her geniuls and aspiring energy have won for her in the world of art. The woima is as great as the actress; and the best minds and purest lives of our time have proudly and gladly recognized a fellowship with Adelaide Ristori. 451

Page  452 452 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. II. EUPHROSYNE PAREPA ROSA. In the autumn of 1866 the musical public of America wel comed to these shores a richly-gifted and very remarkable musical artist,-Euphrosyne Parepa Rosa. At the beginning of her American career she awakened a lively interest. Her talents were seen to be extraordinary, and her temperament was recognized as uncommonly genial. Time has confirmed that first impression, and lively interest has cleepened into an affectionate esteem. The story of the artist's life is brief and simple. She was born at Ediiiburgh, Scotland, in 1839. Her father was a Wallachian nobleman, Baron Georgiades de Boyesku, of Bucharest. Her mother, Miss Seguin, was a sister to the once eminent basso of that name. Their married life lasted but a little while, being terminated by the sudden death of the Baron, whereby his widow, only twenty-one years of age at the time, was left in poverty. To support herself and her infant child, Euphrosyne, the bereaved Baroness shortly afterward adopted the lyric stage as a profession, and presently began the education of her daughter for the same pursuit. This proved a lab)or of ease as well as of love. In her musical studies the child made rapid progress; and she also acquired, with rare facility, five modern languages,- English, Italian, French, German, and Spanish. At the age of sixteen -in 1855she made her first public appearance in opera, in the city of Mlalta. Amina, in "Sonnambula,"-a customary role of operatic dbutantes, - was the character she then assumed; and therein she made a marked and promising success. The unusual power and compass of her voice, and the felicitous method of her execution, speedily became themes of praise with European connoisseurs of music. At Naples, Genoa, ib

Page  453 EUPHROSYNE PAREPA ROSA. Rome, Florence, Madrid, and Lisbon, her first success was repeated and increased. So, for two years, she prospered, on the continent of Europe, receiving the applause of the people, the cordial favor of musical criticism, and the compliments and honorary gifts of nobles and of monarchs. In 1857 she made her debut in Lonldon, in the same company withl Ronconi, Gardoni, and Tagliafico, in "I1 Puritani," and thereafter took a high place in the favor of the British public. Hler career in England lasted nine years; in the course of which period she became the wife of a British officer, whose death, however, left her in widowhood, at the end of sixteen months. The autumn of 1866, as has already been stated, found her in the United States. The company with which she came included the well-known cornet player, Levy, and the violinist, Carl Rosa, and was directed by AMr. 11. L. Batemall. Her debut here, September 11, was made in concert, in the city of New York; but she has since achieved honors in oratorio and opera, in most of the principal cities of the Republic. In 1867 she became the wife of Carl Rosa, with whom she has happily lived and labored. Her rank ill the mnusical world is high and honorable, and rests upon solid merits. Nature has endowed her with rich and remarkable gifts. Her voice, a pure soprano, is very powerful, is even in the register, and is thoroughly well balanced. Her method is entirely correct; and, in view of the great volume of her voice, her fineness of execution is unusual and surprising. Perfect in the technical part of music, and thoroughly acquainted with the nature and the scope of her own powers, she does every thing, well that she undertakes, and she never undertakes a task that she is not fully able to perform. lIer intonation and enunciation are faultless. In oratorio ancl in the concert room she has no equal. Onl the stage, however, she somewhat lacks, in acting, the intensity of passionate emo 453

Page  454 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. tionI, the soulful expression, which characterize and denote a great lyric artist. If, however, she have not a dramatic genius, she certainly possesses commanding talents. Iher operatic performances in this country have evinced the steady growth of decided dramatic faculty. Great vocal powers have seldom found more ample or more touchingo expression than those of Parepa Rosa, in the first act of ":Norma." To add that one of her very best successes here has been made as Rosina, il " The Barber of Seville," is to indicate alike the versatility of her talents and the scope and thoroughness of her culture. There is not, at present, on the American stage, a sounder practical musician than Euphrosyne Parepa Rosa. In social intercourse the lady is agreeable and winning, by virtue of her simple kindness and constant, sunny good-humor. A New York journalist thus thoroulghly sums up the distinguishing merits of this gifted and excellent artist: "Madam Parepa-Rosa's rare versatility and conspicuous artistic merit were never fairly appraised until she appeared in the United States, although she had sung, ill English opera ill London,and on the Italian stage in the chief cities of the continent. The story of her American tours during the past two or three seasons would form instructive reading, for foreigners. It is within bounds to say that, during a year, she has sung before a quarter of a million of people residing in about twentyfive cities scattered over an area of fifteen hundred miles long by seven or eight hundred wide. On her return home this most lndefatigal)le primna donna will be able to testify to the receptions everywhere accorded her, and to the amount of 'appreciation' that real vocal worth finds, even in the young cities of the Mew wpst. We have no record of a singer having accomplished the task that Madam Rosa has so far brilliantly fulfilled. At home in every province of her art, -opera, 454

Page  455 ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 455 concert, and oratorio; blessed with a voice that even this trying climate cannot impair, and gifted with a musical memory most wonderful, -she permnits her manager to announce her at twenty places in a less number of days; and a two yea-s' experience of her energetic character has taught the public to know that her engagements, thoug,ll remotely placed, are sure of being fulfilled. It is not unusual for her to sing, ill one week, two-or three times at the opera, take the lead in an oratorio performance two hundred and fifty miles from the Academy, and appear in concert at two or three different places. This is an average instance of her untirilng diligence, and the consequence is that, go where and when she will, she is sure to find a couple of thousand persons assembled to do honor to her talents." III. ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). No one thinks of Ellen Tree without kindness and pleasure. By that name rather than her married name she is remembered by play-goers, and will be celebrated in dramatic annals. She is one of the women who have truly adorned the stage, - a good woman, in every relation of life, atd a brilliant actress. For forty-five years she has been ta member of the dramatic profession. Her first appearance on the regular stage, after a little amateur practice ait a private theatre, was made at Covent Garden, London, in 1823, when she eCiacted Olivia, in Shakspe,are's "Twelfth:Niglt." By the critics of that period the performance was regarded as "promising; " but that was all; so the young actress went into the provinces, and acted there for the next four years. None of the difficulties that usually attend young theatrical aspirants beset her early career. Two of her sisters were

Page  456 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. already in the profession, - -one, Mrs. Maria Bradshaw, as a singer, att Covent Garden, and the other, lMrs. Quin, as - dancer, at Drury Lane. Their ijflueine, of course, favoied tlheir young relative, and an afiectionate mother protected, cheered, and encotiraged her. In 1827 she was engag,ed as a member of the Drulry Lane company, and in that theatre she imade her first conspicuous successes. Her range of characters, even then, was wide. She played Lady Teazle, and she also played Jane Siore, thus touching the antipodes of comedy and tragedy. In that same year, and at that same theatre, Charles IKean made his firstprofessional appearance; and it is probable that the acquaintance then and there comrmenced, which was afterwards to ripenl into love and marriage between these two distinguished artists. At that time, and for several subsequent years, theatrical business appears to have been uncertain and iunprofitable in London; and, as a matter of prudence no less than enterprise, Ellen Tree varied her metropolitan engagements with various provincial tours, visitingo and plaiyiiig in the principal cities of England, Ireland, and Scotland. Success, in every respect, continually attended her footsteps. She played by turns all the accepted leading parts in the legitimate drama, and her professional reputation was steadily augmented. One of her eminent successes was her personation of Clerzanztke, in Talfourd's classic and beautiful tragedy, which wvas first acted at Covent Garden, May 26th, 1836. With o6n, too, one of the purest and bricghtest of all the denizens of thle world of fancy, her name is identified. In 1836, she visited the United States, and made a starring tour of this country, which lasted three years. Her success here was very great, and she found the warmest favor, not merely with the general multitude of theatre-goers, but with the best educated and most refined classes in American society. Years afterwards, in 1865, when, after a long absence, she reappeared in New 456 0

Page  457 ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 457 Yorkl, as Mrs. Charles I(ean, it was remarked that many gray-h-lairedl men and women appeared among her audiences, lured to unfamiliar footlights by the desire to renew their in tellectual association with the brilliant stage heroine of younger and btigllter days. In 1839 she returned to Eingland, with ~10,000 as the fruit of her professional labors in America. IHer first English reappearance was made at the Htaymarket, where she was welcomed home almost rapturously by the English public. On the 4th of November, 1839, she appeared at Covenut Garden, then under the management of Madame Vestris (afterwards Mrs. Charles Matthews, and since deceased), as the Countess, in Sheridan Knowles's drama of " Love," then acted for the first time, but repeated fifty times in the course of that season. In January, 1842, at Dublin, she was married to Charles Kean, with whom for twenty-six years she lived in perfect sympathy and happiness. Three months after their marriage they played a joint eLngaig ement, extendin, over a period of fifty-three nights, at the London Haymarket. "As You Like It," "The Gamester," and "The Lady of Lyons," may be mentioned as typical of the character of the pieces in which they performed. In August, 1845, they came to the United States, bringingc with them Lovell's now well-known drama of " The Wife's Secret," written expressly for them, and in which they acted with sin,gular excellence. In this piece, and in Shakspearean plays, MAIr. and Mrs. Iean futlfilled a round of engagements ill the principal cities of the Republic, with equal fame and profit. In the summer of 1847 they returned to England. Thenceforward, as before, Ellen Tree shared the labors and the fortunes of her husband. She had no separate career, nor did she desire it. In 1848 Mr. IKean was appointed by the Queen of England to be conductor of the Christmas theatrical performances at Windsor Castle, instituted by that soverei,gn and her lamented consort, the late Prince Albert,

Page  458 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. with the double design of benefiting the drama and relieving the court of the care and ceremony incident to state visits to the public theatres. This very difficult office Mr. Kean filled for ten years; and, as he was wont to consult his wife on every important matter, it is fair to discern in his signal success some traces of Ellen Tree's prudence, tact, knowledg,e of human nature, and ripe professional cultivation. At the end of his first season, the queen denoted her appreciation of his services by giving him a diamond ring. In 1850 Mr. IKean became joint lessee of the Princess's Theatre, in Londonl, of which he was left sole lessee and manager in the following year. Here began the most brilliant period( of his own and his wife's theatrical career. What Charles Kemble commenced, and MIacready continued, Charles IKeanl triumphantly finished,- the grand and noble work of doing entire justice, in their representation, to Shakspeare's plays. Strang(rely enough, accuracy on the stage is a modern virtue. Hamlet, as played by Garrick, wore the wig and the kneebreeches of Garrick's time. Charles Kemble was the first to make a stand for literal correctness of costume. Macready, who took.Covent Garden Theatre for his field of enterprise, in 1837, went further, and made a stand for greater correctness of scenery. But it remained for Charles Kean to do more than ha4 ever before been attempted, by every possible auxiliary of art, skill, learning, labor, and money, to place the plays of Shakspeare on the stage in a thorotughly correct and splendid manner. That work he accomplished; and he is said to have remarked, very late in his life, doubtless in a moment of despondency, that he had wasted the best working years of his career, in endeavoring to sustain the dignity and purity of the British drama. He retired fi'omi the management of the Princess's in 1860, having, within his term of nine years, made the most elaborate and brilliant revivals, not alone of Shakspearean, but of divers other dramas. The 458

Page  459 ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 459 series commenced in February, 1852, with "The Merry AVives of Windsor." This was followed, in due succession, by " Iti John," "The Corsican Brothers," "Macbeth," 'Sardanapalus, "Richard III.," "Faust and Marg,uerite," "King itIenry VIII.," "The WVinter's Tale," "Louis XI.," " A Midsummer Night's Dream," "King Richard II.," "The Tempest, " Kiing Lear," "Pizarro," "The Merchant of Venice," andl "MIuch Ado About Nothing." Each of these pieces lhad a very long run, and in eachl Mr. and Mrs. Kean played the principal parts. A public dinner was given to Mr. Kean, on his retirement from the direction of the Princess's Theatre. Mr. Gladstone presided; and, on behalf of the committee and subscribers, presented the retiring manager with a silver vase, valued at two thousand guineas. In the speech that he delivered on this interesting occasion, Mr. Kean made the followiing significant allusion to the cherished partner of his fortunes: Mind and body require rest, after such active exertions for nine years, during, the best period of my life; and it could not be a matter of surprise if I sank under a continuance of the combined duties of actor and mainager, in a theatre where everything has grown into gigantic proportions. Indeed, I shotlld long since have succumbed, had I not been sustained and seconded by the indomitable energy anid devoted affection of my wife. You have only seen her in the fullfilment of her professional pursuits, and are therefore unable to estimate the value of her assistance and couinsel. She was ever by my side in the hour of need, ready to revive my dcrooping spirits, and to stimulate me to fresh exertion." In July, 1863, Mr. and Mrs. Kean set out from London, with a small, selected company, including their uiece, AIiss E. Chapman, Mr. J. F. Cathcart, and Mr. G. Everett, to make a professional tour around the world. They went first to Australia; thence to California; thence to the West Indies; and thence to New York. In the latter city

Page  460 460 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. they arrived in April, 1865, and made their first appearance there, at the Broadway Theatre, when it, together with the other theatres, was reopened, subsequent to the assassination of President Lincoln. Ill the opelning pieces, " Hienry VIII.," and The Jealous Wife," Mrs. Kean played Queen Gatherine and Of,s. Oakley. Majesty of mien, fervor of feeling, remarkal-le variety of intonation and of facial expression, accuracy of method, and charming vivacity betokened in those personations the gifted and cultured actress. She was seen, however, to be altogether unlike the Ellen Tree of former days, the slight; graceful, elegant, laiughing lady, who had blazed upon the stag,e as the radiant Rosalind, and dazzled every eye with her beauty and her wit. "For beauty, wit, High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subject all To envious and calumninating time." The final sojourn of the ICeans in the United States lasted a year. On the 16th of April, 1866, at the Academy of Music, in New York, after having appeared in the chief theatres of the United States and Canada, they took a farewell benefit, playing in "Louis XI.," and "The Jealous Wife." There was a very great multitude present, and the occasion lingers in memory as one of the brightest and saddest in the record of the stage. The fine art of acting never received a more fervent, conscientious, and touching illtistration than was afforded in this performance. Mr. Kean played with all the energy and fire of his nature, and, at the close of the representation of "Louis XI.," made a most affecting, farewell speech to the public. Mrs. Kean's part in "Louis XI." was ilfartel, the peasant's wvife. She was very genial and simple in it; and thus, even in a trifle, revealed the es

Page  461 ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 461 sential charm of her temperament. A sweet, kind, unpretending, helpful, affectionate woman, such Ellen Tree always was; and very naturally, therefore, she has always borne her rare mental gifts and distinguished worldly honors with native modesty, ease, and grace, winning on all sides affection not less than esteem. At the close of their engagemient here, Mr. and Mrs. Kean returned to England, there to commence a series of farewell performances, by way of final retirement from public life. This was abruptly terminated by the sudden and serious illness of Mr. Kean, on the 29th of May, 1867, when, at Liverpool, he was playing, Louis XI." He iiever played again. On the 22d of January, 1868, at Bayswater, near London, he died. His grave is in the village of Catherington, in Hampshire, close by that of his mother. Ellen Tree, of course, will act no more. Sorrow saddens the autumn of her brilliant life. From all quarters, though, she is the recipient of the kindest and sincerest sympathy. The Queen of England, herself a widow, has sent a letter of condolence to the widow of the actor. Better than royal courtesy, however, and better than all the consolations of friendship and fortune, is the consciousness of duty well and truly done toward him whom she loves and mourns, andl toward all the world. With that consciousness warm at her heart, Ellen Tree can look back upon a well-ordered, au honorable, a distinguished, and a successful life. Ier rank as a dramatic artist is with the best representatives of Engd lish comedy.

Page  462 462 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. IV. CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG. America's favorite vocalist, Clara Louisa Kellogg, was born in Sumter, South Carolina, in 1842. She is, however, of New Ellgland parentage. Her early years were passed in Connecticut. She was educated at the free schools, and in them she used to sing with her little school-mates; but she does not appear to have attracted attention as a child, by either proficiency ill vocal exercises or especial beauty of voice. At one time in her girlhood she sang in a church choir, in the town of Lyme, where she was thought to possess a pretty voice, but one that could easily be shouted down by more vigorous organs. In 1858 her parents were residents of New York city, her mother being what is called "a healingo medium," -in other words, a clairvoyant doctor. Many visitors were attracted to this lady - who is, indeed, described as a singularly gifted and interesting person - by the fame of her success as a physician. One of these visitors, on conversinig with Mrs. Kellogg, learned that her " medium powers had first been exercised in restoring to health her own daughter, a slender, delicate girl, who, at the moment of this conversation, was singing, behind a curtain that divided the room in twvain, to the accomnpanying jingle of a cracked piano. One confidence succeeding another, Mrs. Kellogg said that her daughter's ambition impelled her toward the opieratic stage. Reference was hereupon made, by the visitor, to Miss Eliza Loygan, the once distinguished actress, - now in retirement, as Mrs. George Wood. At a later period mother and dau,ghlter called on this lady, and consulted her as to the expediency of Miss Kello,gg's adopting a professional career. The incident is interesting and significant, as indicative of the troubles that beset, at the outset, every aspirant for the artistic

Page  463 CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG. life, and of the courageous energy that is needful to meet and overcome them: "SIy sister," writes Miss Olive Logan, in one of her lively, off-hand sketches, "spoke in a disinterested manner to this young girl,- told her of all the haps and mishaps of stage life, - spoke, also, of that unnecessary and unjust obloquy whichl is attached to the name of every actress, and then bade her go back and ponder seriously. She went back with her mother, and both pondered seriously. They pondered on the fact that the young girl must do something for self-sustenance. They pondered on the limited field of employment which is open to women. They pondered on the emoltumenets and the delights of being a seamstress, or a shopgirl, or a worker on a sewing,-machine. They pondered on the scope afforded the daug,hter's genius by these employments; and, pondering, they decided. The young girl went upon the stage. She made a failure, — a dire, desperate, seemingly hopeless failure. But sho remembered that many a great genius has failed at first, only to triumph at last. There was a plucky spirit in the girl's heart, and she did not turn to the sewing-machine as a last resort. Retiring again to private life, she began to labor at art as no galley-slave ever labored at the work to which he was sentenced. Her days and her nights were given to the worship of the goddess she loved; and, on her reappearance on the stage, she was tolerably, if not brilliantly, successful. Hler great virtue was that she did not consider herself perfect; but day after day, and night after night, she kept up that unceasing toil which has now made her one of the most celebrated women of the age and the only pure-blood prima doinna assoluta of whom America cani boast."* Surmounting, all obstacles, Miss Kellogg at last made her P. F. Nicholson's "Town and Country." 463

Page  464 464 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. debut at the Academy of Music. This event took place under Mr. J. Grau's management, in 1860, in "Rigoletto." The attempt was a failure. In fact, it was only after her third debut that the young vocalist succeeded. Since then her prog ress has been very rapid to that fime and fortune ri,ghtftlly due to exalted merit and steadfast energy of character. Very early in her career she had the happiness to attract the atten tion of a munificent friend of art, -one of those wealthy men, found here and there throughout society, who practically consider that riches are given to them in order that they may promote the general welfare of mankind. That firiend was Col. HI. G. Stebbins, of New York, who formed so high an estimate of Miss Kellogg,'s musical gifts, conceived so deep an interest in her singularly delicate, refined, and gentle nature, and foresaw such a bright future for her in art, that he offered to charge himself with the care and cost of her musical education. The offer was accepted by the parents of the singer, and Col. Stebbins faithfully performed his chosen work. In truth, Miss Kellogg, was, in a measure, adopted into the family of this sterling gentleman and generous friend, who has been to her a second father. Amongr the music-teachers then employed for her cultivation were Professor Milet, M. Rizuire, and M. Muzio. One of her earliest personations that attracted critical attention and inspired hope for her future, was her Gilda, in "Rigoletto," which she played at the Academy of Music, in 1861. Her first really great success, though, was made as Marygheita, in Gounod's "Faust," which was first produced in New York, in the season of 1864-65. Personal adaptability to the character was, doubtless, one of the chief sources of this success. Margherita is a pure, delicate, gentle, loving, simple-hearted, and simple-minded maiden; and Miss Kellogg filled this ideal, not less in spirit than in outward seeming. Another of her successes was made as Linda di Chamounix, in May, 1867.

Page  465 CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG. Her acting, and singing, in the malediction scene, in act second of this opela, -we still remembered, with lively emotions of astonishment and admiration, because of their extraordinary vitality, tragic force, and glittering precision of method, ill which art concealed every trace of art and wielded the magical wand of nature. In addition to these, Miss Kello,gg has made signal successes in' Crispino e la Cominare," "Fra Diavola," "I1 Barbl)iere di Seviglia," "I Puritani," " L'Etoile du Nord," "La Sonnambula, ""Martha," " Don Giovanni," "Lucia di Larninermoor," and "La Traviata." Iher d6but in London was made on the 2d of November, 1867, as cMatrg/erita. Few triumnphs so genuine and so brilliant as hers have ever been won upon the London stage, and no American musical artist has hitherto attained a reputation at all commensurate with that which Miss Kellogg, now enjoys abroad. Her impersonations, indeed, and her delightful vocal powers have in a surprising manner affected both the mind and the heart of the English people. Many pages might easily be filled with thoughtful and ardent praises of tlhe singer, from the soundest critical journals in London. A single quotation from one of these will not here be misplkced, as representative of the tone of European opinion respecting the prima donna of whom the art-public of her native,America is so justly proud. "Miss Kellogg," said the London "Review," on the Saturday subsequent to her de6but, " has for four or five years patst enjoyed the highest renown in her ownl land, reports of whichl have long reached us here; and now we are able to bear testimony to the truth of the praise which has been bestowed on her by American, critics. No ordeal could have been found more severe than a first appearance as. Yargherira in Gounod's'Faust,' a part in which the London public has seen and heard some ei,ght or more artists, - some 80~~~~ 30 465

Page  466 466 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. excellent, all more or less good. Besides others, Madame MIiolan-Carvalho (the original MVargherita in Paris), Mademoiselle Lucca, Mademoiselle Patti, Mademoiselle Titiens, Mademoiselle Artot, and, last of all, Mademoiselle Christine Nilsson, have all been heard here in this part, and have left impressions which render it extremely difficult for any new(omer to succeed in the same character. The great success, therefore, of Miss Kellogg is decisive proof of her merits and accomplishments. Her voice is a soprano of pure and even quality, sufficiently brilliant in its upper portion, and intensely sympathetic in its middle and lower range. She has perfect command over a compass of two octaves, - her execution and intonation evidencing that complete course of student training, the necessary drudgery of which is so frequently shirked by vocal aspirants, and more especially when gifted with naturally fine voices, which are too generally considered by their possessoirs to be the chief requisites for success; whereas, in point of fact, the voice is but as an instrument apart from the trained skill and art requisite to wield it. Miss Kellogg is one of those exceptional singers who, blessed with a fine voice, have yet not presumed, on the strength thereof, to neglect those minute and laborious details of vocal exercise which form the requisite training for an executive artist. These qualities are apparent in the certainty and precision with which she intonates distant intervals, the note being at once perfectly reached without that wavering which is sometimes perceptible in singers of great pretensions, whose practice of scales and so,feggi has not been sufficiently diligent. Miss Kellogg's power, too, of sustaining a note with a prolong,ed dimninuendo, finishing, with an almost imperceptible pianissimo, unfalteringly in tune, is another proof of thorough training. Then her bravura-singing in florid ornamental passages has that distinctness and completeness of style so seldom realized; while her shake is irreproachable in

Page  467 KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 467 closeness, evenness, and intonation. Beyond these technical merits, Miss Kellogg, possesses a refinement and sensibility of style, and a power of expression, aided by a voice of naturally sympathetic quality, which impart a charm to her performance not to be found in mere mechanical excellence. Moreover, Miss Kello,gg is an excellent actress,- with an intelligent and expressive face, a graceful figure, and that propriety of gesture, action, and by-play, which denote that the study of acting, apart from singingl,, has occupied more of her attention than is usual with vocalists." These views have the double merit of impartiality and truthfulness. In their estimate of the singer there is no extravagance. Miss Kellogg is gifted with extraordinary powers, by which, and by great and continual latbor, she has fairly earned her eminence. Nor can her victory be too highly esteemed. Success such as hers in the great art of musical acting implies a rare union of splendid qualities of person, mind, and character. Exquisite sensibility,,lieen intuitions, an unerring sense of symmietry, a wide grasp of emotions, reason and imagination, sadness and glee, the power to fill as well as the power to conceive an ideal, -all these must the singer possess, who would interpret the human heart and the immortal soul through the most heavenly medium of utterance that God has vouchsafed to his creatures. V. KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). In the career of Kate Bateman - who, at the age of twenty-six years, shares the distinction of the mnost popular actresses of her time- is seen a conspicuous illustration of the force that is exercised in public life by purity of character

Page  468 468 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. and integrity of purpose. She possesses uncommon taleA,t, and sterling accomplishments, and these she has employed with a noble energy and singleness of purpose, and in a pure, swveet, womanly spirit, that could not fail, and have not f,liled, to win unb)ounded appreciation and symtnpathly. The most important period in her professional life comprises the last eight years. Within that time she has won botb fame and fortune. Iher experience of the stage, however, dates back to childhood; and much of her more mature facility is of course to be attributed to early professional training. She was born at Baltimore, Maryland, on the 7th of October, 1842, being the second child of H. L. Bateman and Frances Bateman, -the former well and widely known as a theatrical manager, and the latter reputed as an actress and a dramatic author. Shortly after the birth of Kate, her fiather, then in mercantile business, returned to the stage, playing, in the domestic drama, such parts as liartin Ileywood in "The Rent Day," and.lValter in "The Babes in the Wood." On the 14th of December, 1847, at one of the theatres in Louisville, Kentucky, the latter piece having been cast, and the children who usually played the juvenile parts in it being unable to appear, tile Bateman children, Kate and Ellen, -one five years old and the other three, -made their first appearance on ally stage. Their debut was an accident, but their success was signal. They were very pretty and interesting little girls, and their brightness and cleverness won all the more al)preciation because of their extreme youth. Then, too, parental sympathy was touched by the spectacle of father and children plLying upon the stage together, in such relations as are sustained by Walter and the Babes. In brief, all the f Lvorable influ ences combined to make a career and open a brilliant fiuture for these children. Season after season they starred the country under their father's management. New parts were

Page  469 KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 469 found for them from time to time. Kate used to be especially fine as Richard the Ttircd, which she was first cast in at thle sti(rggestion of Mioses IKimball, in the old days of the Boston Museum, which institution he originated. IHer best part, thoulgh, was ]ienriette de Vigny, ill "The Young Couple." In 1850 the Bateman Children were taken to England, where, in all the great cities of the British Isles, they found even more favor than they had found at home. In August, 1852, they returned to America, and in 1856 they retired from the stage. Ellen was subsequently married and is now Mrs. Claude Greppo. IKate remained in retirement and studied acting. At length, in 1860, she reappeared on the stage, in the character of Evangeline, in a drama, by her mother, based on Longfellow's poem. The performance, thoug,h very pretty and pleasing,, did not, however, make a deep impression upon the public mind. It was seen in many American cities, during the season of 1860-61, but was nowhere greeted with much enthusiasm. In fact, since the chief quality of the character of Evangeline is silent fortitude, its delineation affords but little scope for the vivid display of dramatic powers. The most that was possible for the actress was to look like a saintly sufferer and to be picturesque in tableaux. Two years afterwards Miss Bateman ag,ain appeared in New York- at the Winter Garden, in April, 1862 - as Julia, in "The IHunchback," and this time she miade a prodigious popular sensation. Following up this success with a great deal of characteristic energy, she appeared as Lady Gay Spanker, in "London Assurance;" Lady Teazle, in "The School for Scandal;" Juliana, in "The IHoneymoon;" Juliet; Bianca, in " Fazio;" Geraldine, in her mother's tragedy of that name, - originally writtenl for Mattilda Heron,- and llPosa Gregorio, in a new drama, written for her, by Mr. T. B. DeWalden. Later in the same year, in A ugust, at the same theatre, she played an

Page  470 470 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. oth(er engagement, which was signalized by the presentation of her Lady MVacbeth. Her best successes this year were made in Julia, Bianca, Lady Gay, and Geraldine. In all her personations, however, the chief charm was the innate purity of womanhood that shone through them. Very often her art was defective. In some parts (Juliet and Lady -Iacbeth, for instance) she seemed utterly at sea,. But no person of sensibility could witness her acting without being conscious of contact with an earnest, delicate, womanly nature, that was as refireshing to the mind, jaded by the all too prevalent artifice of the stage, as is the cool, delicious fragrance of trees and flowers and grass, after a light shower in a spring day. And not only did her nature charm by its ingenuous sweetness and win by its purity: a certain fiery force of intellect was perceptible in it, now and then, - shown in the fourth act of The Hunchback," and in certain scenes of Geraldine,"- that vitalized a style of acting which might otherwise have sometimes seemed insipid. This fiery force, combined with an acute perception of simple patthos, was afterwards to find more abundant scope and more vivid expression. In December, 1862, Miss Bateman made her first appearance as Leah, -a character with which her name is now identified; and herein these qualities of her nature were displayed with ample breadth. Few single passages in modern acting are more touching than is her simple, natural, tender scene with Rudolph's child, in the last act of "Leah;" and few kindred efforts have electrified the multitude so much as has her delivery of Leah'.s curse, in the churchyard scene in that drama. These, however, are facts of such common knowledge, that it were needless to dwell upon them. It should be mentioned, though, that the play of "Leah" is an American adaptation of the German drama of "Deborah," by Dr. Mosenthal, made by Mr. Augustirr Daly. Miss Batema's first appearance as Leah was made in

Page  471 KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 471 B13oston; but subsequently, for nearly a year, she starred the country in that character, and everywhere attained new popularity. Hler first representation of it in New York was given at Niblo's Garden, in January, 1863. Mr. J. W. Wallack, Jr., and Mr. Edwin Adams appeared in the cast, as Nathan, the apostate Jew, and Rtudolph, the lover. In the autumn of that year, Miss Bateman, accompanied by her ftLther as manager, proceeded to London, where "Leah" was produced in October, having just been revised and revamped by Mr. John Oxeniford, dramatic critic of the London "Times." That the performance was a success may readily be seen in the remarkable fact that it was repeated for two hundred and eleven nigihts in succession, before crowded houses, and greeted with every possible manifestation of public and critical approval. WVriters were not wanting, indeed, to point out, truthfully and frankly, the defects of Miss Bateman's acting; yet its force, and its winning charm of fresh, young, gentle personality were none the less recognized. In the last three months of 1864 Miss Bateman fulfilled prosperous and brilliant engagements in Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Dublin, and Glasgow. The theatres overflowed nightly, and the star of the young actress rose still higcher in the skies of fame. Returning to London in the spring of 1865, she reappeared as Leah, and also played Julia, Bianca, Pauline, and Geraldine, concluding her engagement, at the Adelphi, in July of that year. When autumn came, she made another tour of the principal British provincial cities, in all of which she played, with abundant success, a round of her favorite characters. On her next return to London, she received a complimentary benefit, at Her Majesty's Theatre (since destroyed by fire), given to signalize her farewell to England. The occasion is recorded as one of the most delightful of its kind in recent stage life. Miss Bateman played Juliet. Shortly afterwards she sailed

Page  472 EIEMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE. for New Yoilk, arriving there on the 12thl of January, 1866. On the 15thl of January, at Niblo's Garden, she reappeared as Leah; anld here she acted, for the next six weeks, before crow(led audiences. She then proceeded to Boston, where she found her popularity unaLbated. Thence retiurninHg, she reappeared at Niblo's; but was forced, by sudden and severe illness, to relinquish her engagement, and to remain for several months in retirement. In October, 1866, Miss Bateman became the wife of Dr. Georgce Crowe, all English gentleman, sol of Eyre Evans Crowe, author of a "History of France," and other works, and for several years editor of the London "Daily News." During the year following her marriage, she did not a.pl)er in public life; but, at le(ngth, having been entirely restored to health, she accepted an engagement, offered by an Englishl manager, and, on the 7th of October, 1867, she reappeared in Liverpool, as Leah, creating a still greater popular excitement than before,- which also attended her professional progress, at Brighton, Manchester, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, Dublin, and Edinburgh. She is now in retirement, at her husband's residence, near the city of Bristol, England; but she wvill return to the stage in October, 1868, and comnmence the season at the London Haymarket Theatre, where she is elngaged for a period of three months. Her present is full of success, and her future is full of promise. Young, beautiful, distinguished, - a happy wife, an affectionate and cherished daughter, a simple-minded woman,- she mnoves forward, beneath a sunny summer sky, on a pathway that is strewn with roses. Such wvomen honor the stage by their presence upon it; and their personal assertion of the dignity of the dramatic art is more eloquent and more practically effective than words can possibly be. 472

Page  473 HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN). 473 VI. HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. THEODORE MARTIN). For thirty years Helen Faucit has been a favorite actress onl the English stage. For thirty years she has amused and instructed the British public, winning with ease, and wearing with grace, the golden crown of success. In both of the chief branches of dramatic art, as a tragic and as a comic actress, she has attained lofty eminence; nor has she been less esteemed as a woman than admired as an artist. It seems proper, therefore, to select her as the representative Engl,ish actress of her time. The portraits of Helen Faucit - portraits that, of course, were made long ago - represent a tall, elegant figure; a frank, sweet, expressive, good face; large dark-brown eyes, full of eager intelligence; and a stately head, fillely poised upon a swan-like neck, ajld crowned with luxuriant dark hair that fills in abundant curls on her snowy, sloping shoulders. Such, doubtless, was the fair girl who charmeed aln earlier generation of the lovers of art, in the brighter days of the British drama. tIleln Faucit comes of a theatrical family. HIer father and mother, and her three brothers and two sisters, were all members of the dramatic profession. iHer early education for the stage was superintended by Mr. Percival Farren, of the Haymarket Theatre. Her first public appearance was made at a theatre in Richmond, near London, in the autumn of 1833, in the character of Juliet. The announcement of her dgbtt ran thus: "A young lady - her first appearance on any stage." The public received her kindly, and she seems to have played very well. But no novice can adequately personate Shakspeare's Jtlliet. The character taxes the art of a thorouhlly trained actress; and, in general, it is much more truthfully interpretedcl by women of fifty, who have passed years upon the

Page  474 174 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. stage, than by the freshest beauties of ei,ghteen or twenty-fve. Hielen Faucit's first appearance in London was made on the 5th of January, 1836, at Covent Garden Theatre, as Julit, in the well-known "Hllunchback." One extremely interesting incident marked the occasion, showing that imperial firmness of mind, under the most trying circumstances, is not incompatible with the utmost gentleness of womanly temperament. There was a very large audience present in the theatre; and being broug,ht, for the first time, to the test of such tremendous physical magnetism, the nervous power of the young actress faltered, and she succumbed to the icy spell of stagefri,ghlt. Her performance, as a matter of course, came very near to being a dead failure. At leingth, as the second act was drawing heavily to a close, she caught sight, in the orchestra, of the white head and tear-dimmed eyes of her oldest and dearest friend,- a venerable gentleman, whose paternal love and fostering care had cheered and encouraged all her young ambitions. "That white head," she afterwards remarked, " seemed to fill the theatre." Fired by the thought of this friend's past confidence in her talents, and present anguish in prospect of her failure, the actress made a great effort, suddenly recalled her will to its sovereign seat, and so turned the current of her fortune from defeat to victory. Her voice rose loud and clear, and.all the fervor of her spirit came into play. As a matter of course, her audience quickly recognized the change, and felt the spell of genuine talent; -and their hearty plaudits ratified her success. That success has known "no retiring ebb," but has steadily increased into such eminence as is only won and kept by commandiing, talents and unsullied integrity. Helen Faucit's next appearance was made as the heroine of "Venice Preserved." After that she played Mrs. Hallet, and acted the chief part in Joanna Baillie's new drama of "Separation," which had, however, only a short life. But her chief success that season

Page  475 HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN). 475 was Clemanthe, in Talfourd's "Ion," - (of which Ellen Tree was the ori,ginal). For her benefit, on the 20th of June, 183(6, she played 3lrs. Beverley, in the' Gamester," and very deeply touched the hearts of her audience, by her affecting picture of the poor wife's anguish and devotion. Even thus early she seems to have excelled in characters requiring for their portrayal deep feeling and exquisite tenderness. In the following, season, she personated the chief female part in Bulwer Lytton's drama of " The Duchess de la Valliere," - a piece of French extraction, then produced for the first time. It failed, though, and it is never heard of now. On the 18th of April, 1837, Helen Faucit made a hit as Portia. Mr. Macready took the lease of Covent Garden Theatre in that year, and made haste at once to engage her in his dramatic company. It will be seen that, from the outset, she faithfully and strenuously worked in the stock companies, which was the secret of her sure progress. Macready kept Covent Gardell two years; and, in the course of that time, Helen Faucit played many important parts. Bulwer Lytton's "Lady of Lyons" was, for the first time, acted, during this term of management, -early in 1838, - and Helen Faucit was the original Paulne, to the Claude Melnotte of Macready. On the 10th of October, 1839, the tragedian abandoned Covent Garden, and accepted an engagemaent, under Mr. Webster at the Iaymarket, Helen Faucit and Mrs. Warner being elected to second him in a round of his chief performances. On the 26th of October, 1841, when Macready again assumed the reins of managenient, in taking the lease of Drury Lane, Helen Faucit was again engaged as leading lady: and certainly it is no slight testimony to the ability and culture of the actress, that she was thus thrice chosen, to fill a position of the first importance, by an actor so exacting, so coldly intellectual, and so hard to please, as the famous tragedian is wvell known to have been. Many new pieces were tried,

Page  476 176 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. under the new administration of Drury Lane, and in most of them Helen Faucit had to study- and, as the stagce-phlrase is, " create "- new parts. "Plirhted Troth," " The Blot in the Scutcheon,"" Gysippus," and "The Patrician's Daughter," may be mentioned among the new drainas, that then, for the first time, saw the light. In all of these IHelen Falucit appeared, and she also sustained leading parts inl MIacready's Shakspearean and other revivals; thus participating in the honors of one of the most brilliant periods of enterprise that are recorded in the history of the British drama. She was the original Julie, ill Bulwer Lytton's "Richelieu," and the ori,ginal Josephine, in Byron's "Werner." When Macready finally abandoned management, Helen Faucit betook herself to the "star" system, and went illto the provinces. Engag,ements were numerously offered, and successes were numerously achieved. This portion of her career need not detain minute attention. The actress who has once become a popular favorite, has but to fulfil, under the starring systemn, the usual routine of travelling, from city to city, and playing at theatre after theatre, with various business, it is true, but generally with prosperous results, and almost always with increase of fatle. For some years past, Helen Faucit has played irregularly, only acceptiing engagenielts here and there, under entirely agreeable and advantageous circumstances. She is the wife of Theodore Martin, whose repute in literature, as anl able, versatile, and brilliant writer, assulredly needs no bush, and whose rank in the world of English letters is sufficiently indicated by the flact that the Queen of Engl,and has selected him to write the Life of tlte deceased Prince Consort. She has never visited the United States; nor, as she is now upwards of fifty years of age, is it likely that she ever will come to this country, on a professional expedition. American knowledge of her acting, therefore, must depend on the study of English stage records and Eyng

Page  477 HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN) lishl criticism. Those authorities bear ample testimony to the brilliancy of her past career and the sterliing worth of her talents and character. Adverse opinion has contented itself with calling, her "MIacready in white muslin." It is not tllnlattllral that her temperament and her style of actilig should have been influencedcl by the strong individuality of that remarkable actor. Few players who have yielded to the enchantment of Macready's art have ever been able entirely to discard his mannerisms in their own playing. Helen Faucit's native merits, however, are such as far outweigh her borrowed defects. A recent critic, Mrs. S. C. Hall, describes her, as follows, in wortls that clearly depict a true artist and gifted woman: She bears home to the imagination one great harmonious impression of whatever character she is impersonating; but when we look back and analyze that impression, we feel what a wealth of subtle details has gone towards producing it, with what exquisite graduations it has been worked up to its crowning climax.... All she says and does seems to grow out of the situation as if it were seen and heard for the first time.... With the ever-wakeful conscientiousiess of a real artist, Helen Faucit is continually striving after a higher completeness in all she does. }Ier characters seem to be to her living things, ever fresh, ever full of interest, and on which her imagination is ever at work. They must mingle with her life, even as the thick-coming faincies of the poet mingle with his. As, therefore, hler rare womanly nature deepens and expands, so do they take a richer tone and become interfused with a more accomplished grace. I have often, in former dclays, seen her, bv her intense power of shlaping imagination, make characters harmonious which were mere tissues of shreds and patches, and personages'movingnatural, and full of life,' which, as the author drew them, 477

Page  478 478 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. were hollow phantasms. Conspicuously has she done so with the'Lady of Lyons.' I saw her when this play was first produced, and memory is sufficiently strong to compare the actress of that time with the actress of to-day. She can be compared with none other than herself; for no actress, since IHelen Faucit made the character so essentially her own, has approached her in its delineation. It was then acting of rare grace, and truth, and power; it is now all that, but much more. Time, and study, and refined judgment have enabled her to perfect that which was admirable in its earliest conception. I recall the sensation that moved a crowded house after the curtain fell on the first representation of the'Lady of Lyons.' There was a rumor that it was the production of Lytton Bulwer, -a rumor only, which, so carefully was the secret kept, some of his most intimate friends emphatically denied. The play, it is needless to say, made an immediate success. It has retained its place as one of the stock pieces of the stage ever since. There is now, indeed, no Claude Melnotte to be compared with Macready, although he was by no means young when he performed that youthful part; nor has any one ever approached him in it. But Helen Faucit is far nearer the ideal Pauline now than she was in those days; and it is easy to imagine the delight of Lord Lytton in witnessing that which it is not too much to say surpasses, in refined grace and intellectual power, the part as he created it. " Her Pauline is in truth a perfect performance. It has that charm which comes only from the inspiration of genius; for at the root of. all art lies the passion, which, as the great French actor Baron said, sees farther than art. But it is also the perfection of art where art is never, even for a moment, seen; the result of careful and continuous study, but with the ease and force of nature in every word, look, and motion. So is the character worked out from the beginning to the end."

Page  478A

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Page  479 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. BY MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. IN listening to the many interesting incidents of this young girl's life, not all entrusted to me for publication, my feelings have vacillated between pity and admiration, - pity, for all the trials of her childhood and youth, in loneliness, poverty, and disappointment; and admiration for the indomitable will, courage, and rare genius, by which she has carved her way, with her own right hand, to fame and independence. While so many truly great women, of other times and countries, have marred their fair names, and thrown suspicion on their sex by their vices and follies, this noble girl, through all temptations and discouragements, has maintained a purity, di,gnity, and moral probity of character, that reflect honor on herself, and glory on her whole sex. Anna Elizabeth Dickinson was born in Philadelphia the 28th of October, 1842. Her father, John Dickinson, was a merchant of sound intellect, and moral principle, a clear, concise reasoner, an earnest abolitionist, and took an active part in the anti-slavery discussions of that time. He was a benevolent, trusting man, and through the noblest traits of his character became involved in his business relations, and was reduced to poverty. His misfortunes preyed upon his minid and health; and he died soon after with a disease of the heart, leaving a wife and five children, Anna, the young 479

Page  480 480 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. est, but two years old. The last night of his life was passed in an anti-slavery meeting, where hle spoke earnestly; and cn his way home, not feeling well, he stopped at a drti,gg,ist's to get some medicine, and died there without a struggle. Her mother, Mary Edmundson, was born in Delaware, of an aristocratic family. She is a woman of refinement and cultivation, and was carefully reared in conditions of ease and luxury. Both were descendants of the early Quaker settlers, and rigid adherents to the orthodox Friends. Their courtship lasted thirteen years, showing, the persistency and fidelity of the father on one side, and the calm deliberation of the mother on the other. As a baby, Anna was cross, sleepless, restless, and cr3ying continually with a loud voice, thus preparing her lungs for future action. She was a wayward, wilfiil, intensely earnest, imaginative child, catising herself and her elders much trouble and unhappiness. They, seeing her impatience of control, endeavored to "break her will," - a saying that has worked as much cruelty in the world as the proverb of Solomon, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." Fortunately they did not succeed, and through the triumph of that inldoniital)le will we boast to-day that the most popular American orator is a woman. She was considered an incorrigible child at school as well as at home. Thotugh she always knew her lessons, the absurd and arbitrary discipline so chafed her free spirit that she was generally in a state of rebellion. With courageous defiance she would submit to punishment rather than rules she thought foolish and unnecessary. She had an intuitive knowledge of character, and early sawv the hypocrisy, deceit, and sham of the world, -the hollowness of its ceremonies, forms, and opinions; and with vwonderful powers of sarcasm she could lay bare the faults and follies of those about her. Hence she was a terror to timid, designing teachers and scholars; and good children were warned against

Page  481 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. her influence. Yet, as she iwas ever the champion of those who suffered wrong and injustice, she had warm friends and admirers among her schoolmates. She says she always felt herself an Ishmaelite amoing children, fighting not only her own battles, but for those too timid and shriuking to fight for themselves. Her school-days were days of darkness and trial. Owing to her mother's limited means, she was educated in the free schools of the Society of Friends. Meeting there the children of wealthy Quakers, they would laugh at her poverty, and thoughtlessly askli her " why she wore such common clothes." She would promptly reply, "My mother is poor, and we work for all we have." Although she accepted her condition with bravery, she determined to better it as fast as she could; yet such taunts were alike galling to her and cruel in those who uttered them. Nevertheless, they were not without their power in developing the future woman; so far from depressing her youthful energies, they stung her into a nobler life. In her hours of solitude she would resolve to lift herself above their shafts, to make a home for her mother, and surround her with every comfort. Thus great souls feed and grow on what humbles smaller ones to dust. Her love for her mother was the strongest feeling in her nature, and it was to relieve her from constant toil that she early desired some profitable employment that she might earn mo oney for her own support. It was the sorrow of her childhood to see her mother pale and worn, struggling with all her multiplied cares,- for, in addition to her own family, she k ept boarders and taught a private school. Thus,. with ceaseless love and care and industry, that noble woman fed and clothed and educated her fatherless children, and to-day has the satisfaction of seeing them all noble men and women; an d mid peace and plenty she remembers the long, days of darkness, poverty, and self-denial no more. For the encour 31 481

Page  482 482 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. agement of those parents who have wayward, wilful children, I would mention the fact that Anna, who was a greater trial to her mother than all her other children and cares put together, is now her pride, her comfort, and her support. When about twelve years old she entered " Westown Boarding-School of Friends," in Chester County, and remained there two years; from this she went to "Friends' Select School" in Philadelphia, where she applied herself so diligently to her studies, that, although she pursued over a dozen branches at one time, she seldom failed in a recitation. During all her school-days, she read with the greatest avidity every book that she could obtain. Newspapers, speeches, tracts, history, biography, poetry, novels, and fairy tales were all alike read and relished. For weeks and months together her average hours for sleep were not five in the twenty-four. She would often read until one o'clock ill the morning, and then seize her school-books and learn her lessons for the next day. She did not study her lessons, for, with her retentive memory, what she read once was hers forever. The rhymes and compositions she wrote in her young days bear evident marks of genius. WThen fourteen years old she published an article headed " Slavery" in the "Liberator." She early determined that she would be a public speaker. One of her greatest pleasures was to get a troop of children about her and tell them stories; if she could fix their attention and alternately convulse them with laughter, and melt them to tears, she was perfectly happy. She loved to wander all over the city alone, to think her own thoughts, and see what was going on in the outer world. One of her favorite rendezvous was the Anti-slavery Office in Fifth Street; where she would stay for hours to hear people talk about the horrors of slavery, or to read papers, tracts, and books on that subject. At seventeen she left school. She was skilful in all kinds of housework, and orderly in

Page  483 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. her arrangements. She was willing to do any kind of work to make an honest living. No service however hard, or humble, seemed menial to her. Being a born queen, she felt she dignified whatever she touched; even the broom became a sceptre of royalty in her hand. When about thirteen years old she visited a lawyer's office one day, on her way from school, and asked for some copying,. tie, pleased with the appearance of the brilght child, asked her if she intended to do it herself; she said, Yes. He gave her some, which she did so well that he interested himself at once in her behalf, and secured her work from other offices as well as his own. How she could get moneyto buy books was the one thought; next to hlelping, her mother, that occupied hermind. Tothis end she would (lo anything,,- run errands, carry bundles, sweep walks, - and as soon as she had obtained the desired sum, she would buy a bookl, read it with the greatest avidity, then taklie it to a second-hand book-store and sell it for a fraction of its cost alld get another. When seven years old she would take B3yron's works, secrete herself under the bed that she mi,ght not be disturbed, and read for hours. There was something in the style, spirit, and rhythm, that she enjoyed, even before the thought was fulily understood. She had a passion for oratory, and when Curtis, Phillips, or Beecher lectured in Philadelphia, she would perform any service to get money enough to go. On one occasion she scrubbed a sidewalk for twenty-five cents, to hear Wendell Phillips lecture on "The Lost Arts." There are many very interesting anecdotes of her life during this period, illustrating her fortitude under most trying circumstances and her strong faith in a promisiing future. Through her magnetism and self-confidence she went forward and did inany- thlings gracefully and unchallenged, that others of her sex and age would not have had the courage or presumption to attempt. There was somethi)ng so irresistible in her falce and manner that entire 483

Page  484 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. strangers would yield her privileges, which others vwouild not dclare to ask. Ill her fourteenth year while with relatives ill the country, duringc the holidays, she attended a MIethodist protracted meetingl, and was deeply moved on the subject of religion, was converted and joined the chlurch. I1cr mind, however, was much disturbed on theological questions for several years, but after great distress andcl uncertainty, with the opposing, doctrines and opinions she heard on all sides, she found rest at last-in the liberal views of those who taught that religion was life,- faith in the goodness, and wisdom of God's laws, and love to man. She disliked the silent Quaker meetings, alld made every excuse to avoid them. Ier repudiation of that faith was a source of unhappiness both to her family and herself. About this time she spent a few months as a pupil and assistant teacher in a school at New Brighton, B3eaver County; but as her situation there was not pleasant, she applied for a district school that was vacant in that town. About to make the final arrangenients with the committee, she asked what salary they gave. One gentleman rem-arked " A manl has taught this school heretofore, and we gave him twenty-eight dollars a month; but we should not give a girl more thlan sixteen." There was something in his mamnner and tone so insultiing that her pride compelled her to scorn the place she needed, and, drawing herself up to her full proportions, she said with great vehemence, "Sir, are you a fool, or do you take me for one? Though I am too poor to-dclay to buy a pair of cotton gloves, I would rather go in rags, than degrade my womanhood by accepting anything at your hands.' And she shook the dust of that place from her feet, and went home to struggle on with poverty, firm in the faith of future success. Young, inexperienced, penniless, withl but few fiiends, and none knowingvi, her greatest trials, she passed weeks looking for a situation, in vain. At last she was offered a place as saleswoman in a stores which she accepted; 484

Page  485 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. but finding, that it was her duty to misrepresent goods to customers, she left at once, because she would not violate her conscience with the tricks of trade. The distinctions she saw everywhere between boys and girls, men and women, giving, all the opportunities and advantages of life to one sex, early filled her with indignation, and she determined to resist this tyranny wherever she found it. Sitting at home one Sunday in January, 1860, she read a notice that the "Association of Progressive Friend" would hold a meeting, that afternoon, to discuss "woman's rig,hts and wrongs." She resolved to go, and, in company with another young, girl, was there at the appointed hour. Tenl minutes were allowed the speakers to present their op)osing views. "It was my good fortune," says Dr. Longshore, "to be there, and to announce at the opening of the meeting, that ladies were particularly invited to speak, as the subject was one in which they were interested. In response to this invitation, after several persons had spoken, Anna arose nea the centre of the hall. Her yotuthful filce, black curls, and bright eyes, her musical voice, subdued and impressive manner, commanded at once the attention of the audience. She spoke twice, her allotted time, and right to the point. These were her first speeches in public, and her auditors will long remember that day." She gave a new impulse to the meetings and a fresh interest in the association for months afterward. The next Sunday she spoke again, and on the same subject. Anl attempt was made, by an opponent, by inlterruptions, foolish questions, sneers, and ridicule to put her down. This was a tall, nervous, bilious man, who spoke with the arrogance and assumption usual in that type of manhood,as if he were a partner of the Most Hilgh in giving law to the universe; as if it were his special mission to map out the sphere of woman, the paths wherein she might withl safety 485

Page  486 486 EMIlNENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. walk. By some magnetic law he fixed his eyes on this stranOge girl, into whose soul the floods of indignation were pouringo thick and fast; and when he finished, the scene that followed was almost tragic. She rose, her feeling,s at white heat, and, with flashing, eye and crimson cheek, she turned upon her antagonist, looking him square in the face, and poured out the vials of her pent-up wrath, -the sum of all the wrongs she had felt through struggling girlhood; the insults to womanhood she had read and heard; the barbarisms of law, of custom, and of daily life, that but for the strong will God had given her to resist, would have ground her, with the multitudes of her sex, to powder. She poured out such volleys of invective, sarcasm, and denunciation, painted the helplessness of women with such pathos and power, giving, touching incidents of her own hard experience, that her antagonist sunk lower and lower into his seat and bowed his head in silence and humiliation, while those who witnessed the scene were melted to tears. Never was an audience more electrified and amazed than were they with the eloquence and power of that young girl. No one knew who she was, or whrence she came; but all alike felt her burningi words, and withering scornl of him who had dared to be the mouth-piece of such time-honored insolence and cant about the sphere of woman. Pointing strailght at him, and, with each step approaching nearer where he sat, saying, You, sir, said thus and so, she swept away his arguments, one by one, like cobwebs before a whirlwind, and left him not one foot of ground whereon to stand. When she finished, he took his hat and sneaked out of the meeting, like a whipped spaniel, to the great amusement of the audience, leaving the sympathies of tlhe audience with the brave young girl. From this hour Elwood and Hannah Longshore became Anna's most faithful and trusted friends and advisers. They

Page  487 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. appreciated her genius, comprehended the difficulties of her position, and gave her a helping hand in securing means of support. They encouralgedl her ambition to become a public speaker. So intense and earnest was she in all her desires, that she easily surmounted every difficulty to secure her ends. No lions ever crouched in her path; it was the real, not the ina,iliary, that blocked her way. Soon after the scene in the Sunday meeting, two gentlemen called at her home one day and inquired for Ainna Dickillson. They had heard her speak, and were so much pleased that they desired to know something of her family and surroundings. As soon as they inquired for Ainna, the mother's heart stood still, supposing that these men had come to complain of some of her pranks in the neighborhood; and she was by no means relieved, when she heard that her daughter had made a speech in a public meeting on Sunday, and they had come to congratulate her on her success. Iler public career was at first a great mortification to her mother, who felt that by this erratic course she was bringing, shame and humiliation on her family, never dclreamingo that she was so soon to occupy one of the proudest positions before the American people, to distinguish her family, and place them in conditions of ease and luxury. But she shared the common fate of genius,- persecution in the house of its friends. At this time she became a constant visitor at the house of Dr. Longshore, and found there the affection and wisdom, the warm and sympathizing friendship, her generous and impulsive nature most needed for its development and control. They took her to their hearts, cared for her in every way, and to this day she calls their house her home. "We felt towards her," says Dr. Longlshore, as if she were our own ch.ild, and she lingered with us in her visits with filial devotion. We were the first strangers to manifest 487

Page  488 88 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. an interest in her welfare and future plans, and she reciprocated our friendship with confidence and love. She was always so happy, so full of hope and life, that her presence seemed like that of an angel. Hour after hour, in the evening, when all was still, she would entertain us with her varied experiences, at home, in school, in church, in company, with her teachers, playmates, and strangers, with her efforts to get books, clothes, comforts, laughing and crybig by turn. Her recitals were so fll, glowing; and eloquent, that we took no note of the passing time, and the midnight hours would often find us lingering still, pleased and patient listeners of this strange child's life." After reading some thrilling account of the slave system, one night, she had a remarkable dream. She tlhought she was herself a slave-girl, the victim of all the terrible experiences of that condition. The toil, the lash, the starvation and nakedness, the auction-block, the brutality of driver and owner, were all so vividly painted on her imagination that she could not rid herself of the horrid realities of that system. She could never speak on that subject in public or private, but this terrible memory would come vividly back to her, intensifying her feelings, and giving an added power to her words. After atteuclnding the meeting of Progressive Friends for several weeks, she was invited to speak in MullicaHill, New Jersey, and on the first Sunday in April, 1860, she made the first speech to which she had given any previous thoulght. The large school-house vwas crowded; her subject was "Woman's Worlk." Speaking from the depths of her own experience, she held the audience in breathless silence for over an hour. There was an indescribable pathos in her fiull, rich voice, that, aside from what she said, touched the hearts of her hearers, and moved many to tears. Her power seemed

Page  489 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. miraculous to the people, and they would not disperse until she promised to speak again ill the evening,. Some one remarked at thle adjournment, "If Lucretia Mlott had made that speech, it would be thought a great one." In the evening, she spoke on the sul)ject of slavery, for the first time, and with equal effect. A collection of several dollars was taken up for her, the first she ever received for giving an address. Failing to find employment in Philadelphia, she.accepted, as a last resort, a district school in Bucks County, with a salary of twenty-five dollars a month. She camne home once in two weeks to take part in the Sunday meetiings. On her eiglhteenthl birthday she went to IKennett Square, -a small village thirty-two miles from Philadelphia, -to attend an anti-slavery mneeting that remained in session two days. She spoke on slavery and non-resistance. Il that doctrine of F'riends she had no faith. A discussion arose as to the right and duty of slaves to forcible resistance. She and Robert Purvis, who was in the chair, spoke ill the affirmative, and, in a protracted discussion, maintained their opillion, against the majority, "that resistance to tyranny is obedience to God." Anna wound up one of her glowing periods with the words of Lovejoy: "If I were a slave, and had thle power, I would bridge over the chasm which yawns between the hell of slavery and the heaven of freedom, with carcasses of the slain." The effect of her speech was startling,, and thrilled the whole audience. Robert Purvis unconsciously rose from his chair, and bent forward, electrified with a new hope of liberty for his race, looking,as if their fate rested on her lips. During her summer vacation she spoke several times to large audiences in New Jersey. On one occasion, in the open air in a beautiful grove, where hundreds had assembled to hear her, she spoke both morning and afternoon on tenmperance and anti-slavery, prodclucing a profound sensation. At another time several Methodist clergymen had assembled 489

Page  490 490 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. to lay the corner-stone of a new church ill a village where she was announced to speak. They went to hear her, from mere curiosity, in rather a sneericng frame of mind; she, knowing that filet, was moved to speak with more than usual pathos and power. They made themselves quite merry in the beginning, but before she closed they were serious, subdued, and in tears. The next day one of them introduced himself to her, and said,'I have always ridiculed'WoUman's Riights,' but, so help me God, I never shall ag,ain." At all these meetiings contributions were taken up for her belnefit, and she began to think that this might prove to be her mieans of support. On the evening of the day that she closed her school, she advertised a mueeting to be held in the schoolhouse, but the crowvd was so great that they adjourned to a church near by. She spoke on WoIman's Work;" and with the novelty of the subject and the whole proceeding, she quite startled that stolid comlmlnunity. Shortly after this she attended another anti-slavery meetingi at IKennett Square. This meeting, held just in the beginning of the war, was rather an exciting one, and prolongaed discussions arose on the duties of abolitionists to existing laws and constitutions. In the report from " Forney's Press" we find the following notice - "The next speaker was a Miss Anna E. Dickinson, of Philadelphia, aged seventeen years, -handsome, of an expressive countenance, plainly dressed, and eloquent beyond her years. After the listless, monotonous harangues of the previous part of the day, the distinct, earnest tones of this juvenile Joan of Arc were very sweet and charming. During her discourse, which was frequently interrupted, Miss Dickinson maintained her presence of mind, and uttered her radical sentiments with augmented resolution and plainness. Those who did not sympathize with her remarks were softened by her simplicity and solemnity. Her speech was decidedly the feature of the evening, provocative as it was of numerous, unmanly interruptions, and followed by discussion of prolonged and diversified interest. Miss Dickinson, we understand, is a member of the Society of Friends, and had been solicited, several times during the day, to address the audience, but waited for the inspiration of the evening, which came in the shape of Mrs. Grew's remarks. They were told, said Miss Diclkinson, to maintain constitutions because they were constitutions, and compromises because they were compromises

Page  491 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON But what were compromises, and what was laid down in those constitutions? Eminent lawgivers have said that certain great fundamental ideas of right were common to the world, and that all laws of man's making which trampled upon those ideas wvere null and void,- wrong to obey, but right to disobey. The Constitution of the United States sat upon the neck of those rights, recognizes human slavery, and makes the souls of men articles of purchase and of sale." There is not space to give her admirable speech on the higher law, nor the discussion that followed, in which Miss Dickinson maintained her position with remarkable clearness and coolness for one of her years. The flattering reports of this meeting in several of the Philadelphia journals introduced her to the public. On the evening of the 27th of February she addressed an audience of about eight hundred persons in Concert Hall, Philadelphia. She spoke ftull two hours extemporaneously, and the lecture was pronounced a success. Many notables and professional men were present; and, although it was considered a marvellous performance for a young girl, Miss Dickinson herself was mortified, as she said, with the length of her speech, and its lack of point, order, and arraingemenlt. She felt that she was not equal to the occasion; instead of being flattered with the praises bestowed upon her, she was filled with reg'et that she had not made a more careful and thoughtful preparation. But she learned an important lesson from what she considered a failure, worth more than it cost her. Spring was opening, and her fresh young, spirit and strong will demanded some new avenues to labor, some active, profitable work. In her searches for something to do, says a friend, "I met her one day in the street; said she,'I must work. I dislike the confinement and poor pay of schoolteaching; but I shall go crazy unless I have work of some kind. Why can't I get into the Mint?' After considering the possibilities of securing a place there, for some time, our plans were made, and, after many persistent efforts, we suc 4-91

Page  492 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ceeded." In April she entered the United States Miint, to labor from seven o'clock in the morning, to six at night for twentyeight dollars a month. She sat on a stool all those long hours, in a close, inmpure atmosphere, the windows and doors being always closed in the adjusting room, as the least draft of air would vary the scales. She soon became very skilful in her new business, and did twice the amount of work of most other girls. She was the fastest adjuster in the Milnt; but she could not endure the confinement, and soon changed to the coining-roomu. But this dull routine of labor did not satisfy her higher nature. After the day's work was done, she would go to the hospitals to write letters for the sick soldiers, to read to themn, and talk over the incidents of the war. Many things conspired to make her situation in the Minit undesirable. The character and conversation of the inmates were disagreeable to her; hence she kept them at a distance, while, her opilnions on slavery and woman's rights being known, she was treated with reserve and suspicion in return. In November she made a speech in Westchester on the events of the war, which increased this state of feeling towards her, and culminated in her discharge fiom the Minit, in the Christmas holidays. This meeting was held just after the battle of Ball's Bluff. Inl summing up the record of this battle, after exonerating Stone and Baker, she said, "History will record that this battle was lost, not throulgh ignorance and incompetence, but through the treason of the commandimg general, George B. McClellan, and time will vindicate the truth of my assertion." She was hissed all over the house, thoug,h somne cried, " Go on," " Go on." She repeated this startling assertion three times, and each time was hissed. Years after, when McClellan was running, against Lincoln in 1864, when she had achieved a world-wide reputation, she was sent by the Republican committee of Pennsylvania, to this same town, to speak to the same people, in the same 492

Page  493 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. hall. In agiain summing up the incidents of the war, when she came to Ball's Bluff, she said, "I say now, as I said three years ago, history will record that this battle was lost, not through ignorance or incompetence, but through the treason of the commnanding general, George B. McClellan." " And time has vindicated your assertion," was shouted all over the house. It was this speech, made in 1861, that cost her place in the Mint. Ex-Governor Pollock dismissed her, and owned that his reason was the Westchester speech, for ait that time lIcClellan was the idol of the nation. She says that was the best service the Governor could have rendered her, as it forced her to the decision to labor no longer with her hands for bread, but to open some new path for herself. She continued speaking, during the winter, in many of the neig,hboringlr towns, on the political aspects of the war. As the popular thought was centring everywhere on national questions, she began to think less of the special wrongs of women and negroes, and more of the causes of revolutions, and the true basis of government. These broader views secured her popularity, and made her available in party politics at once. In the mean time Mr. Garrison, having heard Anna Dickinson speak at Westchester and Longwood, and being both charmed and surprised with her oratorical power, invited her to visit Boston, and make his house her home. Before going to Boston some friends desired that she should make the same speech in Philadelphia that had occasioned her dismissal from the lIint. Accordingly, Concert IHall was enzgaged. Judge Pierce, an early friend of woman's rights, presided at the meeting, and introduced her to the audience. She had a full house, at ten cents admission, was received with great enthusiasm, and acquitted herself to her own satisfaction, as well as that of her friends. After all expenses were paid she found herself the happy possessor of a larger sum of money than she had ever had before; and now, in consultation with 493

Page  494 494 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. good Dr. Hannah Longshore, it was decided that she should have her first silk dress. With this friend's advice and blessing, she went to New England to endure fresh trials and disappointments before securing that unquestioned reputation and pecuniary independence she enjoys to-day. Thronigh the infliuence and friendship of Mr. Garrison she was invited to speak in Theodore Parker's pulpit on Sunday morning, as leading reformers were then doing. Accordingly she spoke, in Music Hall, on the "National Crisis." Her first lecture in Boston was the greatest trial she ever experienced. IIer veneration for the character of a Boston audience almost overmatched her couragre and confidence in her ability to sustain herself through such an ordeal. Her friends also had mnisgivingrs, and feared a failure, as they noticed that Anna could neither sleep nor eat for forty-eight hours previous to the lecture. Some were so confident that she would fail to meet the expectations of the immense audience, that they refused to sit on the platform. Mr. Garrison opened the meeting. He read a chapter of the Bible, and consumed some time ill remarks in order to make the best of the dilemma, which, in common with many, he, too, apprehended, while Anna waited behind him to be "presented," in an agony of suspense she striuggled to conceal. At last she was introduced, and begani in some broken, hesitating sentences; but, gradually becomitg absorbed in her subject, she forgot herself and her new surroundings, and so completely held the attention and interest of the audience for over an hour that the fears of her friends were turned to rejoicings, the anticipations of the few were more than realized, and her own long anxious hours of prayers and tears were forgotten in the proud triumph of that day. At the close she was overpowered with thanks, praises, and salutations of love and gratitude. As she delivered this lecture in several of the New Engl(a,nd cities I give the following notice:

Page  495 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. '"TuE NEW STAR. - If to have an audience remain quiet, attentive, and sympathizing during the delivery of a long lecture, is any indication of the ability, tact, and success of the speaker, we think it may be claimed for Miss Dickinson that she is a compeer worthy to be admitted as a particular star in the large and brilliant constellation of genius and talent now endeavoring to direct the country to the goal of negro emancipation. "Music Hall was filled to overflowing; hundreds of the audience went early, and must have sat there more than an hour before the lecture began; and, yet, we do not remember to have seen less signs of weariness and inattention at any lecture we ever attended in this city. Her voice is clear and penetrating, without being harsh; her enunciation is very distinct, and at times somewhat rhythmic in its character, with enough of a peculiar accent to indicate that her home has not been in Massachusetts. Her whole appearance and manner are decidedly attractive, earnest, and expressive. Her lecture was well-arranged, logical, and occasionally eloquent, persuasive, and pathetic. "She traced the demands and usurpations of the Slave Power from the commencement of our government till the present time, and proved that, because it could not hope to control the country in the future as it had in the past, it raised the standard of rebellion, -an act long since determined upon when such an exigency should arise. Slavery being thus proved to be the cause of the war, the justice, necessity, and propri. ety of its abolition, as a means of present defence and future security and peace, was forcibly illustrated. "That the slave was prepared for freedom was proved by the thousands who have passed through so much danger and suffering to obtain it. The inhuman character of the fugitive slave enactment was most beautifully referred to, bringing tears to many eyes which are not accustomed to weep over the wrongs of the colored race. "She spoke in eloquent terms of Fremont, which met with a hearty response from the audience, as did other parts of her address. On the whole, we think her friends here must be greatly delighted with her first effort, on her first visit to our old Commonwealth. "Previous to the delivery of the lecture, the' Negro Boatman's Song,' by Whittier, was sung by a quartette, accompanied by the organ, and the exercises were closed by singing' America,' in which the audience joined." - Fall River Press. She spent the following summer in reading and study, collecting materials for other lectures. She continued, as she had time, to visit the government hospitals, and made herself a most welcome guest among our soldiers. Inll her long convcrsations with them, she learned their individual histories, experiences, hardships, and sufferings; the motives that prompted them to go into the army; what they saw there, and wNhat they thought of war in their hours of solitude, away from the excitement of the camp and the battle-field. Thus 495

Page  496 496 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. she got an insight into the soldier's life and feelings, and from these narratives drew her materials for that deeply interestiugi lecture on hIospital Life, which she delivered in many parts of the country. In October, 1862, she spoke before the Boston Fraternity Lyceum, for which she received many flattering notices and one hundred dollars. She had hoped, through the influence of friends, to make a series of appointments for the winter, and thus secure a means of support. But the military reverses and discouragements left but little spirit among the people for lectures of any kind, and she travelled from place to place until her funds were exhausted. Her lecture at Concord, New Hampshire, was her last engaqgement for the season, and the ten dollars promised there was all she had in prospect for future need until something else might offer. This was a tryingl experience, for she had just begun to hope that her days of darkness had passed and triumph was near. In speaking of it she says, "No one knows how I felt and suffered that winter, penniless and alone, with a scanty wardrobe, suffering with cold, weariness, and disappointment. I wandered about on the trains day after day, among strangers, seeking employment for an honest living, and failed to find it. I would have gone home, but had not the means. I had borrowed money to commence my journey, promisingto remit soon; failing to do so, I could not ask again. Beyond my Concord meeting all was darkness; I had no fuirther plans." But her lecture there on Hospital Life was the turningi-point in her fortunes. In this speech she proved slavery to be the cause of the war, and that its continuance would result in prolonged sufferingo to our soldiers, defeat to our armies, and the downfall of the republic. She related many touching incidents of her experiences in hospital life, and drew such vivid pictures of the horrors of both war and slavery, that, by her pathos and logic, she melted her audience to tears,

Page  497 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. and forced the most prejudiced minds to accept her conclu sions. It was on this occasion that the secretary of the State Central Committee heard her for the first time. Ile remarked to a friend, at the close of the lecture, "If we can get this girl to make that speech all through New Hampshire, we can carry the Republican ticket in this State in the coming election." Fully appreciating her magnetic power over an audience, he resolved at once, that, if the State Committee reflised to invite her, he should do so on his own responsibility. But, through his influence, she was invited by the Republican committee, and on the first of March commenced her regular campaign speeches. In the four weeks before election, she spoke twenty times, - everywhere to crowded, enthusiastic audiences. Her march through the State was a succession of triumphs, and ended in a Republican victory. The member in the first district, having no faith that a woman could influence politics, sent word to the secretary, "Don't send that d woman down here to defeat my election." The secretary replied, " We have work enough for her to do in other districts, without interfering with you." But when the would-be honorable gentleman saw the furor she created, he changed his mind, and inundated the secretary with letters to have her sent there. But the secretary replied, "It is too late; the programme is arranged, and published throughout the State. You would not have her when you could, and now you cannot have her when you will." It is pleasant to record that this man, who had the moral hardihood to use a profane adjective in speaking of a woman, lost his election; and thus our congressional halls were saved from so demoralizing, an influence. His district was lost by a large majority, while the other districts went strongly Republican. XWhen the news came that the Republicans had carried the State, due credit was awarded to Anna Dickinson for her faith-, 497 32 a

Page  498 498 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. ful labors in securing the victory. The governor-elect miade personal acknowledg,ments that her eloquent speeches had secured his election. She was serenaded, feasted, and eulogized by the press and the people. New Hampshire safe, all eyes were now turned to Connecticut. Thle contest there was between Seymour and Buckinlgham. It was generally conceded that, if Seymour was elected, Connecticut would give no more money or troops for the waLr. The Republicans were completely disheartened. They said nothing could prevent the Democrats from car'ying the State by four thousand, while the Democrats boasted that they would carry it by ten thousand. Thoughl the issue-was one of such vital importance, there seemedl so little hope of success, that the Republicans were disposed to give it up without making an effort. And no resistance to this impending calamity was made until Anna Dickinson went into the State, and galvanized the desponiding loyalists to life. She spent two weeks there, addressing lIarge and enthusiastic audiences all over the State, and completely turned the tide of popular sentiment. Even the Democrats, in spite of the scurrilous attacks on her by some of their leaders and editors, received her everywhere with the warmlest welcome, tore off their party badges, and substituted her likeness, and applauded whatever she said. The halls where she spoke were so densely packed, that Republicans stayed away to make room for the Democrats, and the women were s/at out to give place to those who could vote. There never vwas such a furor about an orator in this country. The p)eriod of her advent, the excited condition of the people, her youth, beauty, and remarkable voice, all heightened the effect of her genius, and helped to prodice this result. I1er name was on every lip. MIinisters preached about her, prayed for her as a second Joan of Arc, raised up by God to save that State to the loyal party, and through it the nation to freedom and

Page  499 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. humanity. As the election day approached, the excitement was intense; and when at last it was announced that the State was saved by a few hundred votes, the joy and gratitude of the crowds knew no bounds. They shouted and hurrahed for Anna Dickinson, serenaded her with full ballds of niusic, sent her presents of flowers, ornaments, and books, manifesting in every way their love and loyalty to this gifted girl, who, throtugh so many years, had bravely strnggled with poverty to this proud moment of success in her country's cause. Some leading men in Connecticut presented her a gold watch and chain as a memento for her valuable services in the State, paid her a hundred dollars for every night she had spoken there, and for the last night before election, in Hartfor d, four hundred dollars. From the following comments of the press, the reader may form some idea of the enthlusia, m of the people: "MISS DICKINSON AT ALLYN HALL. "The highest compliment that the Union men of this city could pay Miss Anna E. Dickinson was to invite her to make the closing and most important speech in this campaig,n. They were willing to rest their case upon her efforts. She may go far and speak much; she will have no more flattering proof of the popular confidence in her eloquence, tact, power, than this. Her business being to obtain votes for the right side, she addlressed herself to that end with singular adaptation. But when we add to this lawyer-like comprehension of the necessities of the case, her earnestness, enthusiasm, and personal magnetism, we account for the effect she produced on the vast audience Satur(lday night. Allyn Hall was packed as it never was before. Every seat was crowded. The aisles were full of men who stood patiently for more than three hours, the window-sills had their occupants, every foot of standing-room was taken, and in the rear of the galleries men seemed to hang in swarms like bees. Such was the view from the stage. The stage itself and the boxes were filled with ladies, giving the speaker an audience of at least two hundred who could not see her face. To such an audience Miss Dickinson spoke for two hours and twenty minutes, and hardly a listener left the hall during that time. Her power over the audience was marvellous. She seemed to have that absolute mastery of it which Joan of Arc is reported to have had of the French troops. They followed her with that deep attention which is unwilling to lose a word, but greeted her, every few moments, with the most wild ap. plause, which continued often for several minutes, breaking forth afresh with irrepressible enthusiasm. We find no occasion to abate a word from the very high estimate given of 499

Page  500 560 EMINENT WOMEN DF THE AGE. her as an orator from her first speech in this city. And she added vastly, on Saturday night, to the estimate of her by her versatility and ability as an advocate. The speech, in itself, and its effect was magnificent, - this strong adjective is the proper one. If the campaign were not closed, we should give a full sketch of the speech, for its pertinent effect. But the work of the campaign is done. And it only remains, in the name, we are sure, of all loyal men in this district, to express to Miss Dickinson most heartfelt thanks for her splendid, inspiring aid. She has aroused everywhere respect, enthusiasm, and devotion, let us not say to herself alone, but to the country. While such women are possible in the United States, there isn't a spot big enough for her to stand on, that won't be fought for so long as there is a man left." Fresh from the victories in New Hampshire and Connecticut, she was announced to speak in Cooper Institute, New York. That meeting in May, 1862, was the most splendid ovation to a woman's genius since Fanny Kemble, in all the wealth of her youth and beauty, appeared on the American stage for the first time. On no two occasions of my life have I been so deeply moved, so exalted, so lost in overflowingt gratitude, that woman had revealed her power in oratory, - that highest art to touch the deepest feeliings of the human soul, - and verified at last her right to fame and immortality. There never was such excitement over any meeting in New York. Although the hall was densely crowded long, before the hour announced, yet the people outside were determined to get in at all hazards, -ushers were beaten down, those without tickets rushed in, and those with tickets were pushed aside, and thousands went home unable to get standing-places even in the lobbies and outer halls. The platform was graced with the mnost distinguished men and women in the country, and so crowded that the young orator had scarce room to stand. There were clergymen, generals, admirals, judges, lawyers, editors, the literati and leaders of fashion, and all alike ready to do homage to this simple girl, who moved them alternately to laughter and tears, to bursts of applause and the most profound silence. Mr. Beecher, who was president of the meeting, introduced the speaker in his happiest manner. For more than an hour she

Page  501 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. held that large audience with deep interest and enthusiasm, and, when she finished with a beautiful peroration, the people seemed to take a long breath, as if to find relief from the intensity of their emotions. Loud cries followed for Mr. Beecher; but he arose, and, with great feeling and solemnity, said, Let no man ol)pen his lips here to-night; music is the only fitting accompaniment tc the eloquent utterances we have heard." So the Ilutchinseons closed the meeting with one of their soul-stirring ballads, and the audience dispersed. As none of the materials furnished for this sketch have interested me more than the comments of the press, I give the followving. Kinowing, that Anna Dickinson will be as great a wonder to another generation as Joan of Arc is to this, the testimony of our leading journals to her eloquence and power furnishes an important page in future history: "MISS DICKINSON AT THE COOPER INSTITUTE. "The crowd at the Cooper Institute last evening must be truly called immense, no other word being adequate to the emergency. The attraction was an address by Miss Anna E. Dickinson, of Philadelphia, upon the subject of' The Day -the Cause.' "She is of the medium height, slight in form, graceful in movement; her head, wellpoised, is adorned with full and heavy dark hair, displaying to advantage a pleasant face, which has the signs of nervous force and of vigorous mental life. In manner she is unembarrassed, without a shade of boldness; her gesticulation is simple, drawing to itself no remark; her voice is of wonderful power, penetrating rather than loud, as clear as the tone of metal, and yet with a reed-like softness. Her vocabulary is simple, and in no instance can there be seen a straining after effective expressions; yet her skill in using the ordinary stores of our daily language is so great, that with a single phrase she presents a picture, and delivers a poem in a sentence. ",5Iiss Dickinson shows in her oratorical method the feminine peculiarities which lead her sex to prefer results to preliminaries, the sharply defined success of conclusions to the regularly progressing course of previous argument. Her lecture was consequently very effective to the ear, and difficult to report with justice to the speaker. She defined the contest with the South as the struggle between liberty and slavery in the broadest sense of the words, extending to the moral, mental, and social world, and illustrated her position with rapid allusions to the political history of the last ten years. She then drew a variety of comparisons between the loyalty of the two parties at the North, and, in answer to the question what sort of generals each had given to the country, made 501

Page  502 t02 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. some hits of great force at many well-known officers, and paid a tribute of praise to others. "It was in this part of her address that the brightness of her wit and the power of condensed expression already alluded to was seen most clearly. A single stroke of the pencil placed not only a name but a character distinctly before the audience, who took quickly, and fully enjoyed every point. The enrolment act, the threats of the Northwest to compromise for themselves and leave New England out in the cold, and the present splendid revival of patriotic confidence in the North,were treated with surprising power. The applause which burst from the audience at almost every sentence was more hearty and enthusiastic than even in the excited political gatherings of an election season, and was, moreover, applause born of the deepest and best feelings of loyalty. At the conclusion of the lecture, which came to a close with a truly beautiful peroration, the Hutchinson family sang one of their best pieces, and then, by request, followed it with the John Brown song, in the chorus of which the audience joined with a thrilling effect." -New York Evening Post. Hler profits from this meeting were nearly a thousand dollars. After her remarkable success in New York, the Philadelphia "Union League," one of the greatest political or,anizattions in the country, invited her to speak in that city. The invitation was signed by leading Republicans. She accepted it; had a most enthusiastic and appreciative audience, Judge IKelley presiding, and, after all expenses were paid, she had seven hundred dollars. In this address, reviewing the incidents of the war, she criticised General McClellan, as usual, with great severity. MIany of his personal fi'iends were present, and some, filled with indignation, left the house, while a derisive laugh followed them to the door. The Phila. delphia journals vied with each other in their eulogiums of her grace, beauty, and eloquence. The marked attention she has always received ill her native city is alike most grateful to her and honorable to her fellow-citizens. July came, and the first move was imade to enlist colored troops in Pennsylvania. A meeting was called in Philadelphia. Judge Kelley, Frederick Douglass, and Annla Dickinson were there, and made most eloquent appeals to the people of that State to grant to the colored man the honor of bearing arms in defence of his country. The effort was successful. A splendid

Page  503 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. regiment was raised, and their first duty was to serenade the young orator who had spoken so eloquently for their race all through the war. The summer passed in rest and study. Il September, a field-day was announced at Ca'tmp William Penn. General Pleasanton reviewed the troops. It was a very brilliant and interesting occasion, as many were about to leave for the seat of war. As the day closed and the people began to disperse, it was noised round that Miss Dickinson was there; a cry was heard at once onl all sides, - "A speech! A speech!" The moon was just rising, mingling its pale rays with those of the setting sun, throwiing a soft, mysterious light over the whole scene. The troops gathered round with bristling bayonets and flags flying, the band was hushed to silence, and, when all'was still, mounted on a gunl wagonl, with General Pleasanton and his staff on one side, and General Wagner and his staff on the other, this beautiful girl addressed "our boys in blue." She urged that justice and equality might be secured to every citizen in the republic; that slavery and war might end forever, and peace be restored; that our country might indeed be the land of the free, and the home of the brave. As she stood there utterilng words of warning and prophecy, it seemed as if her lips had been touched with a live coal from the altar of heaven. Iher inspired words moved the hearts of our yotung, soldiers to deeds of daring, and gave fresh courage to those about to bid their loved ones go, and die, if need be, for freedom and their cotluntry. The hour, the mysterious light, the stillness, the novel surroundings, the youth of the speaker, all gave a peculiar power to her words, and made the scene one of the most thrilling and beautiful on the page of history. In the autumn of 1862, she was engaged to go to Ohio, to speak for a few weeks before election, and a large sum of 503

Page  504 504 EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. money was pledged for her services. But some Pennsylvania politicians, appreciating her power, and desiring, her help at home, decided to outbid Ohio and keep her in her own State. Accordingly she accepted their proposals, and threw her whole energy and enthusiasm into that canmpaign. She endurdl all manner of discomforts and da(ngers in travelling, through the benighted mining districts of the State. She met with scorn, ridicule, threats of violence, and more than once was pelted with rotten eggs and stones, in the midst of a speech. But she went through it all with the calmness and coolness of an experienced warrior. One of the committee admitted afterward that Miss Dickinson was sent through that district because no man dared to go. She returned home after weeks of hard labor and intense excitement, weary and exhausted, and though all agreed that the Republican victory in that State was largely due to hei influence, the committee forgot their promises, and, to this hour, have never paid her one cent for her valuable services. Their excuse was, that the fund had been used up in paying other speakers. As if a dozen honorable men could not have raised something ill an hour of victory to reward this brave and faithful girl. During, the winters of 1863 and 1864, she received invitations, from the State Legislatures of Ohio and Pennsylvania, to speak ill their capitals at Columbus and Harrisburg,. In January, 1864, she made her first address in Washington. Though she now believed that her success as an orator was established, yet she hesitated long before accepting this invitation. To speak before the President, Chief Justice, Senators, Cong,ressmen, Foreign Diplomats, all the dignitaries and honorables of the government, was one of the most trying, ordeals in her experience. She had one of the largest and most brilliant audiences ever assembled in the capitol, and was fully equal to the occasion. She made a profound impression, and was the topic of conversation

Page  505 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. for days afterwards. At the close of the meeting, she was presented to the President and other dignitaries, and, the next day, hatd a pleasant interview with the President at the White Ilouse. As this was one of the greatest occasions of her life, and as she was hlonored as no man in the nation ever had been, it may be satisfactory to all American women to know by whom she was invited and how she acquitted herself. Accordingly, I give the invitation and some comments of the press. CORRESPONDENCE. " To.Miss Anna E. Dickinson, Philadelphia, Pa.: " MISS DICKINSON, - Heartily appreciating the value of your services in the campaigns in New Hampshire, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and New York, and the qualities that have combined to give you the deservedly high reputation you enjoy; and desiring as well to testify that appreciation as to secure ourselves the pleasure of hearing you, we unite in cordially inviting you to deliver an address this winter at the capital, at some time suited to your own convenience. WASHINGTON, D. C., December 16, 1863. H. HAMLIN, SCIIUYLER COLFAX, J. H. LANE, A. J. WILDER, JAMES DIXON, THADDEUS STEVENS, CHARLES SUMNER, HENRY C. DEMING, H. B. ANTHONY, WILLIAM D. KELLEY, HENRY WILSON, ROBERT C. SCHENCK, JOHN SHERMAN, J. A. GARFIELD, IRA HARRIS, R. B. VAN VALKENBURO, BEN. F. WADE, and seventy other Representatives. and sixteen other Senators. "'Hon. Hannibal Hamlin, Vice-President of the United States; Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Speaker of the House of Representatives; Hens. J. H. Lane, James Dixon, Charles Sumner, H. B. Anthony, Henry Wilson, John Sherman, A. C. Wilder, Thaddeus Stevens, Henry C. Deming, William D. Kelley.Robert C. Schenck, J. A. Garfield, and others: " GENTLEMEN, - I thank you sincerely for the great and most unexpected honor which you have conferred upon me by your kind invitation to speak in Washington. "Accepting it, I would suggest the 16th of January, as the time; desiring the pro. seeds to be devoted to the help of the suffering freedmen. "Truly yours, ANNA E. DICKINSON. " 1710 Locust St., Philadelphia, Jan. 7, 1864," 505

Page  506 506 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. "The House of Representatives, by a remarkably large vote, have tendered Miss Dickinson the use of their hall for the occasion. " Admission to the floor of the House, $1 00; to the galleries, 50 cents. Tickets for sale at the principal hotels and bookstores." "MISS ANNA DICKINSON'S LECTURE IN WASHINGTON. "[From the Regular Correspondent of the Evening Post.] "WASIIINGTON, Jan. 17, 1864. "Miss Dickinson's lecture in the hall of the House of Representatives, last night, was a gratifying success and a splendid personal triumph. She can hardly fail to regard it as the most flattering ovation - for such it was - of her life. Long before the hour designated in the newspapers fo~ the commencement of the lecture the hall was filled, the capacious galleries as well as the floor. Seats for five hundred persons had been arranged upon the floor, and the tickets- one dollar each - were sold by noon of Saturday. "A large number of Congressmen were present with their wives and daughters, and many.of the leading men of the departments. Here and there an opposition member was visible, but so few in number as to make those' who were present unpleasantly conspicuous. At precisely half-past seven Miss Dickinson came in, escorted by VicePresident Hamlin and Speaker Colfax. A platform had been built directly over the desk of the official reporters, and in front of the clerk's desk, from which the lecturer spoke. Mr. Ilamlin sat upon her right and Mr. Colfax upon her left. She was greeted with loud cheers as she came in, and Mr. Hapliu introduced her to the select audience in a neat speech, in which he very happily compared her to the Maid of Orleans. "This scene was one which would evidently test severely the powers of a most accomplished orator, for the audience was not composed of the enthusiastic masses of the people, but rather of loungers, office-holders, orators, critics, and men of the world. But the fair speaker did not seem to be embarrassed in the least, - not even by the movements of a crazy man in the galleries, who carried a flag,. which he waved over her head when she uttered any sentiment particularly stirring or eloquent. "At eight o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln came in, and not even the utterance of a fervid passage in the lecture could repress the enthusiasm of the audience. It was a somewhat amusing fact that just as the president entered the hall, she was criticising, with some sharpness, his Amnesty Proclamation and the Supreme Court; and the audience, as if feeling it to be their duty to applaud a just sentiment, even at the expense of courtesy, sustained the criticism with a round of deafening cheers. The crazy man in the gallery, as if electrified by the courage of the young woman, waved his flag to and fro with frantic delight. Mr. Lincoln sat meekly through it, not in the least displeased. Perhaps he knew that sweets were to come, but whether he did or not, they did come, for Miss Dickinson soon alluded to him and his course as president, and nominated him as his own successor in 1865. The popularity of the president in Washington was duly attested by volleys of cheers. "The lecture itself was an eloquent one, and it was delivered very finely. Miss Dick. inson has evidently made a most favorable impression upon Congress and the people of Washington. After the lecture was finished the audience called lustily for Mr. Lincoln to speak, but he edged his way out of the crowd to a side door, telling the vice-president on his way out that he was too much embarrassed to speak; which statement, made known

Page  507 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. to the people present by Mr. HIamlin, caused much laughter. The'freedmen' will obtain over one thousand dollars as the solid result of the lecture; those present as hearers were delighted; and Miss Dickinson has the consolation of feeling not only that she has aided a good cause, but that she has achieved a fine personal triumph. B." "MISS DICKINSON'S LECTURE IN WASHINGTON ~ AT a meeting of the Executive Committee of the National Freedmen's ReliefSociety of the District of Columbia held on the 26th of January, 1864, the following letter was read: - " WASHINGTON, January 23, 1864. "Rev. W. H. Channing: " SIR, - We have the honor to enclose herewith a draft for ten hundred and thirty dollars, being the proceeds of the lecture delivered by Miss Anna E. Dickinson, in the House of Representatives, on Saturday evening, the 16th inst. "It is the special request of Miss Dickinson that this fund be appropriated for the benefit of the National Freedmen's Relief Society of the District of Columbia, of which you are the vice-president. "It was in response to an invitation of members of Congress that Miss Dickinson delivered herlecture at the capitol. Her benevolence and patriotism evineed in this gift entitle her to the gratitude not only of those who are the recipients of her munificence, but of every lover of his country. " Very respectfully, your obedient servants, "H. HAMLIN, "SCHUYLER COLFAX.' Immediately upon her return from Washington, she was invited by a large number of the leadiing citizens of Philadelphia to repeat her Washington address in the Academy of Music, to which she replied "Messrs. Arch. Getty, Alex. G. Cattell, Thos. Allman, Edmund A. Souder, and others: "GEMTLEMEN, - I thank you heartily for the honor conferred on me by your most kind invitation, and for the added pleasure of receiving it from my own city of Philadelphia. I would name Wednesday, the 27 th inst., as the time. "Truly yours, ANNA E. DICKINSOIN. "WASHINOTON, D. C., January 20, 1864." The profound impression she made at Washington greatly hei,ghtened her rapidly increasing reputation, and she was urged to deliver that address both in New York and Boston. 507

Page  508 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. In Boston, Georg,e Thompson, the eloquent Einglish orator and member of Parliament, paid this beautiful tribute to her genius: - "MY FRIEN.DS,- If one unaccustomed to public speaking is ever placed in an embarrassing position, it is when he is called upon, as I am now, to address an audience that has been so charmed and highly excited by such eloquence as that which it has been your privilege and my privilege to listen to to-night. Shakespeare says,'As when some actor who has crossed the stage retires, the eye looks listlessly to see who follows next;' and so I come before you to-night. I have nothing to address to you to-night, nothing. I have been spellbound. America, be proud of your daughter! Were she my countrywoman, I should be proud of my country for her sake. Appreciate her, reward her by following her counsels. I must confess, long accustomed as I have been to public meetings, and hearing the best eloquence on either side of the Atlantic, and to hearing those who are esteemed our most gifted men in Parliament, I have listened to no speech which, for its pathos, its argument, its satire, its eloquence, its humor, its sarcasm, and its well-directed denunciations, has ever been surpassed by any I have heard before. I pray God that the life of this lady may be spared, that she may see the desire of her heart in the unanimous adoption by her fellow-citizens of the great principles she has enunciated to-night. Give me America free from slavery. Give me America in which shall be established universally, as your lecturer has said to-night, without distinction of clime, color, class, or condition, liberty for all, government by all and for all." IIer reputation was now thoroughly established, and during that winter she addressed lyceums nearly every night at a hundred dollars. " Chicago; or, the Last Ditch," was the title of the lecture she delivered in all our Northern cities. In the spring she made a few camnpaign speeches in Connecticut. She used what influence she had to prevent the renomination of Mir. Lincoln; for she distrusted his plan of reconstruction, after an interview with himn, in which he read to her his correspondence with General Banks, then military coinmanlder at New Orleans. She was convinced in that inter. view that in his policy he was looking to a re-election instead of maturing sound measures for reconstruction. During that presidential campaign, though she continually laid bare the record of the Democratic party, the treason of its leaders and generals, and its want of loyalty during the war, yet she had 508

Page  509 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. no word of praise for Mr. Lincoln. She never took his name upon her lips, except to state facts of history, after the Baltimore Convention, until his death. She was invited to go to California during that campaign, and offered thousands of dollars, if she would go there and speak for Mr. Lincoln; which she declined. At the opening of the lyceum course that fall, in consequence (f her position with reference to the Republican nominee, she had not a dozen invitations for the winter; but, as the season advanced, they began to come in as usual, showing that the committees had withheld them during the months preceding the election, hoping, no doubt, to awe her to silence on Mr. Lincoln. In 1865, she spoke in Philadelphia on the Lincoln monument, and cleared a thousand dollars, which she gave to Alexander Henry, the mayor, to be appropriated for that purpose. On this occasion, she paid a beautiful tribute to the many virtues of our martyred president, delicately making no mention of his faults. One of the most powerful and impressive appeals that she ever made was in the Convention of Southern Loyalists, held in Philadelphia in September, 1866. In this convention there was a division of opinion between the Border and the Gulf States. The latter wanted to incorporate negro suffrage" in their platform, as that was the only means of success for the liberal party at the South. The former, manipulated by Northern politicians, opposed that measure, lest it should defeat the Republican party in the pending elections at the North. This stultification of principle, of radical public sentiment, stirred the soul of Anna, and she desired to speak in the convention. But a rule that none but delegates should be allowed that privilege prevented her. However, as the Southern men had never heard a woman in public, and felt great curiosity to hear her, they adjourned the convention, resolved themselves into a committee of the whole, and invited her to address them. The following sketch from an eye...... 509

Page  510 510 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. witness will give some idea of the effect she produced on Southern men: "A GOOD-NATURED VIEW Of some matters in and about the Convention is given in the following spicy letter of James Redpath to the Boston' Traveller:' — " PHILADALPHIA, Sept. 7. "THE ADDRESS OF ANNA E. DICKINSON. "My last despatch from the Convention predicted that the border statesmen would re. ceive a lecture from Anna Dickinson, and stated that they acted as if they anticipated it. This prediction was formed from the appearance of the Maryland delegation, and a knowledge of the character of the orator; and it was fulfilled. "It was curious to note the audience. There sat, directly in front of the platform, three or four hundred Southern men, few of whom had ever heard a woman speak, - few of whom could debate, when antagonistic views were advanced, without the grossest personal vituperation. "Their ideal of controversial oratory was with them, and sitting at the right hand of the young maiden as she stepped forward to deliver a speech as denunciatory as ever he uttered, but as free from offensive personal allusions as any oration can be. It was Brownlow, the bitterest and foulest-tongued man in the South. On her left sat John Minor Botts, with his lips tightly compressed, and his face telling plainly that he remained there from courtesy, but would remain a patient listener to the speech. "She began; and, for the first time since it met, the Convention was so still that the faintest whisper could be heard. She had not spoken long before she declared that Maryland had no business in the Convention, but ought to have been with the delegates who came to welcome. There was vehement applause from the border States. "' That is a direct insult!' shouted a delegate from Maryland. "She went on without regarding these coarse interruptions, reviewing the conduct of the border States with scorn, and talking, with an eloquence I never heard equalled in any previous effort, in favor of an open, hearty, manly declaration of the real opinion of the Convention for justice to the colored loyalist, not in the courts only, but at the ballot-box. "There was none of the flippancy or pertness which sometimes disfigures her public speeches. It was her noblest style throughout, -bold but tender, and often so pathetic that she brought tears to every eye. Every word came through her heart, and it went right to the hearts of all. Kentucky and Maryland now listened as eagerly as Georgia and Alabama. "Brownlow's iron features and Botts' rigid face soon relaxed, and tears stood in the old Virginian's eyes more than once, while the noble Tennesseean moved hi* place, and gazed at the inspired girl with an interest and wonderment which no other orator had brought to the fanatic's hard face. "Sho had the audience in hand as easily as a mother holds her child; and, like the child, this audience heard her heart beat. It was ennobled thereby. It was really a marvellous speech. The fullest report of it would not do it justice, because the greatness lay in its manner and its effect, as well as in its argument.

Page  511 511 ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON. "When she finished, one after another Southern delegate came forward, and pinned on her dress the badges of their States, until she wore the gifts of Alabama, Missouri, Tennessee, Texas, Florida, Louisiana, and Maryland." There have been many speculations in public and private as to the authorship of Anna Dickinson's speeches. They have been attributed to Wendell Phillips, Charles Sumner, Georg,e AV. Curtis, and Judge Kelley. Those who know Anna's conversational power, who have felt the magnetism of her words and manners, and the pulsations of her generous heart, who have heard her impromptu replies when assailed, see at once that her speeches are the natural outgrowth of herself, her own experience and philosophy, inspired by the eventful times in which she lived. As well ask if Joan of Arc drew her inspiration from the warriors of her day. It was no man's wish or will that Anna Dickinson uttered the highest'thought in American politics in this crisis of our nation's history; that she pointed out the cause and remedy of the war, and unveiled treason in the army and the White Hiouse. While, in the camp and hospital, she spoke words of tenderness and love to the sick and dying, she did not hesitate to rebuke the incapacity and iniquity of those in high places. She was among the first to distrust McClellan and Lincoln, and in a lecture entitled " Mly Policy" to unveil his successor, Andrew Johnson, to the people. - She saw the sceptre of power grasped by the party of freedom, and the first gun -fired at Sumter, ill defence of slavery. She saw the clawn of the glorious day of emancipation, when four mnillion American slaves were set free, and that nighit of gloom, when the darkest page in American history was written in the blood of its chief. She saw our armies go forth to blttle, the youth, the promise, the hope of the nation, -two million strong, - and saw them return, with their ranks thinned and broken, their flags tattered and stained, the maimed, halt,

Page  512 512 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. and blind, the weary and worn; and this, she said, is the price of liberty. Through the nation's agony was this girl born into a knowledge of her power; and she drew her inspiration from the great events of her day. Her heroic courage, indomitable will, brilliant imagination, religious earnestness, and prophetic forecast, gave her an utterance that no man's thought could paint or inspire.

Page  513 WOMAN AS IHYSICIAN. WOMAN AS PHYSICIAN. BY REV. H. B. ELLIOT. THE care of the sick has from earliest ages devolved on woman. A group by one of our sculptors, representing Eve with the body of Abel stretched upon her lap, bending over it in bewildered grief, and striving to cherish or restore the vital spirit which she can hardly believe to have departed, is a type of the province of the sex ever since pain and death entered the world. To be first the vehicle for human lifer and then its devoted guardian, to remove or alleviate the physical evils which afflict the race, or to patiently watch their wasting course, and tenderly care for all that remnains when they have wroug,ht their result, -this is her divinely appointed and universally conceded mission. Were she to refuse it, to forsake her station beside the suffering, the office of medicine and the efforts of the physician would be more than half baffled. And yet, where her post, is avowedly so important, she has generally been denied the liberty of understanding much that is involved in its itelliguent occupancy. With the human body so largely in her charge from birth to death, she has not been allowed to'leuire inito its -arvellous mechanism. With the admilnistering, of remedies entrusted. to her vigilance and fiaithfulness, she has not been allowed ta investigate the qualities, or to,klow even the names of the substances committed to her us, or to ascertain the mectho 33~~~~~~~~~~~~ 33 513

Page  514 514 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. of their operation. With the mind to guide at the stages where its tutelacge is of incomparable importance, she has not been allowed to learn the delicate lines of its dependence upon the body, or the subtle but invincible influences which they mutually exert. To be a student of these things, with scientific thoroughness, and then to practise independently with what she has thus acquired, has been regarded as un seemly, or as beyond her capacity, or as an invasion of prerogatives claimed exclusively for men. Indeed, the whole domain of medicine has been "pre-empted" by men, and in their " squatter sovereignty" (for no law divine or human has yet deeded it to them) they have sturdily warned off the gentler sex. But they will not be kept off. By quiet approaches they have long been gaining foothold upon the outskirts of the territory. Of late years they have ventured into its very centre, claiming equal rights, or erecting their own edifices and laying foundations for enlduring institutions. Under manifold disadvantages and with imperfect appliances, it has yet come to be a fixed fliact that, in this realm, as in those of literature and art, there shall be no factitious distinctions from such cause. To our own country belongs the credit of being foremost ill this change, first to admit, and most liberal in fostering it. In England a "female medical society" has existed several years, and offers facilities for instruction by means of lectures upon some branches, sufficient to qualify for a diploma from "Apothecaries' Hall." In connection with it there is now a "Ladies' Medical College," which recently announced fifty students. But the aim of the whole movement is at present only to furnish well trained midwives. In Paris the "Maternity" Hospital affords opportunity for observation in the department which its name indicates, with whatever forms of disease may be collateral or incidental, and receives women nominally as students, but they are not

Page  515 WOMAN AS PHYSICIAN. allowed to prescribe in the wards, nor instructed in regard to the remedies used. Indeed, they can hardly rise above the position of proficient nurses. In both countries, the way to the entrance of women upon general practice among their own sex has scarcely yet begun to open. In the United States, there are three regularly orgamnized institutions for their education, with all the ordinary appliances of Medical Colleges, -at New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. There are hospitals and dispensaries connected with them, and their students and graduates have now, also, the usual privileges in many of the long-established hospitals. Boston, with characteristic forwardness in accepting whatever tends to the promotion of science or philanthropy, was ill advance of the other cities in this movement, thouogh outstripped by them in results. As early as 1845 and 1846 Dr. Samuel Gregory, in connection with his brother, Mr. George Gregory, published pamphlets advocating the education and employment of female physicians. In 1847 he delivered a series of public lectures upon the subject, and proposed the opening of a school for the purpose. In 1848 a class of twelve ladies was formed, under the instruction of Dr. Enoch C. Rolfe and Dr. William M. Cornell. An association styled the "American Female Medical Edlucation Society" was organized the same year, and afterward merged in the New Eng,land Female Medical College, chartered in 1856, which has been liberally sustained by legislative grants, as well as individual donations. It owns a valuable property, and has many facilities for its work. It has graduated seventy-two women, many of whom are occupying positions of great influence among, their sex, both as practitioners of medicine, and as teachers of physiology and hygiene in schools, and has also furnished valual)le information upon the laws of health to a large number who have attended partial courses of lectures by its professors. At 515

Page  516 516 EMINENT WOMEN OF THR AGE. Philadelphiathe college has quietly pursued its work, through the past eighteen years, with steadily increasing success, inotwithstandi,ng the unfriendly attitude of the ordinary professional organizations, and has sent forth a goodly number of- skilful physicians. Its corporators assert that "its cutrriculum of study and requirements for graduation are in all respects as high as those of the best medical schools in this country" and presenit a catalogue of thlirty-eight re,gular students for the year 1867. At the college in New York, chartered in 1863, one hundred intelligent ladies have already received instruction from a competent corps of professors. Many of these have not designed to practise as physicians; but have availed themselves of this method for obtaining knowledge invaluable to them in their own homes. Twenty-nine have completed the course, and received the legal diploma; and there are now thirty students in regular attendance. The New York Infirmary also, now in its fourteenth year, originated and still chiefly managed by Drs. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell, has well earned an honorable position and done noble service. It has furnished advice and medicine gratuitously to more than seven thousand women and children during the past year. These ladies have in view the organization of a college, for which a considerable fund has already been collected and a preparatory class formed. In various other directions preliminary steps have been taken toward the same end; and there are estimated to be as many as three hundred women, in full practice, scattered through the land. These institutions are yet in their ilnfiancy, and the opposition to their object has been such, on the part of minale members of the profession, that they have found difficulty in securing instructors of the highest grade and facilities for thorotugh clinical or anatomical study. This, however, they are gradually overcoming, and, we doubt not, will soon occupy a position, fully equal at least to that of

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Page  517 MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. D. the average of similar schools. We have deemed it appropariate to make these introductory statements, in view of the fact that this field for female action is one so little trodden, as yet, that its claims are but vaguely apprehended; and to many of our readers the subject is perhaps entirely new. The few individuals, the outline of whose history we aie to give, have been leaders in the whole movement, and are still recognized by their associates as its most prominent advocates. They are also among the ripest and most honorable examples of what it is fitted to accomplish. MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M.D. It is deeply interesting to trace the causes which have led any one to depart from the ordinary paths of life. In those causes there is often much that is palpably providential, - the impelling of divine influences throu,gh extraordinary arrangements,- and there is much of natural operations in accordance with the recognized fitness of things. Both these facts will be apparent in the instance we are now to consider. Why should Mrs. Lozier, a gentle, modest, unambitious, home-loving woman, have chosen the calling of a physician? WVe shall see as we sketch her biography. She was )orn Dec. 11, 1813, at Plainfield, New Jersey, the youingest of thirteen children. HIer father was a farmer, David I-arned, — a name well known at that period in the Methodist Church, of which he was a faithful member, and in which his brothers were successful preachers. iHer mother was IIannah Walker. Previous to their residence in New Jersey, they spent somQ years in Virginia, where Indian tribes, noted for their sagacity, were then numerous. Mrs. Harned, a devout Quakeress, and with much missionary spirit, mingled fieely with them. From them she gained valuable information, which, . 517

Page  518 518 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE. added to reading and close observation, with strong natutral predilection, qualified her to act efficiently in the neighborhlood as an attendant upon the sick. Subsequently she spent seven years in New York city, engaged in general practice, with the advice and co-operation of her cousins, Drs. Dunhatmn and IKissam, by whom she was highly esteemed. William Harned, an elder brother of Clemence, was also a physician of good reputation in New York, and for some time partner of Dr. Doanle, formerly quarantine physician, in an extensive chemical laboratory. Clemence was early left an orphan, and was educated at the Plainfield Academy. In 1830 she was married at New York to Mr. A. W. Lozier. Her husbanid's health soon failing, she opened a select school at their house in West Tenth Street, which she continued eleven years, averaging sixty pupils from filmilies whose social positionl indicates the character of the teacher whom they would sustain. Many of those pupils and their children are now her patients. Mrs. Lozier was one of the first teachers in the city to introduce the study of Physiolog,y, Anatomy, and Ifygicie as branches of female education. During this period, she read medical works, under the direction of her brother. When her scholais were ill, she would generally be called before the physician, and her advice would be the sole reliance in ordinary diseases. She also at that time, for seven years, was associated with Mrs. Margaret Pryor in visiting the poor and abalndoned, in connection with the Moral Reform Society, and often prescribed for them in sickness. Subsequently, while residing in Albany, she visited in the same connlection in that city. IHer opportunities for observing diseases in their worst forms among women and children were thus unusually extensive. In 1837 Mr. Lozier died; but she continued for some time the occupations to which his invalid condition had led her, though constantly looking forward to the medical profession as that to which she desired 0

Page  519 MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. D. to devote herself. In 1849 she attended her first course of lectures at the Central New York College, in Rochester, and graduated at the Syracuse Eclectic College in 1853, having previously applied for admission to several other institutions, and been refused on the ground that no female student could be received. Returning to New York, she entered at once upon regular practice, which she has continued with remarkable success to the present time. Resorting to no means for attracting attention, generous to excess, giving her