第41章 VII(3)
It was said to be the trouble between Abby May and Kate Gannett Wells, both of whom stood for the presidency of the club, that led to the beginning of the anti-suffrage movement in Boston. Abby May was elected president, and all the suffragists voted for her. Subsequently Kate Gannett Wells began her anti-suffrage campaign. Mrs. Wells was the first anti-suffragist I ever knew in this country.
Before her there had been Mrs. Dahlgren, wife of Admiral Dahlgren, and Mrs. William Tecumseh Sher- m an. On one occasion Elizabeth Cady Stanton chal- l enged Mrs. Dahlgren to a debate on woman suffrage, and in the light of later events Mrs. Dahlgren's reply is amusing. She declined the challenge, explaining that for anti-suffragists to appear upon a public platform would be a direct violation of the principle for which they stood--which was the protection of female modesty! Recalling this, and the present hectic activity of the anti-suffragists, one must feel that they have either abandoned their principle or widened their views.
For Julia Ward Howe I had an immense admira- t ion; but, though from first to last I saw much of her, I never felt that I really knew her. She was a woman of the widest culture, interested in every progressive movement. With all her big heart she tried to be a democrat, but she was an aristocrat to the very core of her, and, despite her wonderful work for others, she lived in a splendid isolation. Once when I called on her I found her resting her mind by reading Greek, and she laughingly admitted that she was using a Latin pony, adding that she was growing ``rusty.'' She seemed a little embarrassed by being caught with the pony, but she must have been reassured by my cheerful confession that if _I_ tried to read either Latin or Greek I should need an English pony.
Of Frances E. Willard, who frequently came to Boston, I saw a great deal, and we soon became close- l y associated in our work. Early in our friendship, and at Miss Willard's suggestion, we made a com- p act that once a week each of us would point out to the other her most serious faults, and thereby help her to remedy them; but we were both too sane to do anything of the kind, and the project soon died a natural death. The nearest I ever came to carrying it out was in warning Miss Willard that she was constantly defying all the laws of personal hygiene. She never rested, rarely seemed to sleep, and had to be reminded at the table that she was there for the purpose of eating food. She was al- w ays absorbed in some great interest, and oblivious to anything else, I never knew a woman who could grip an audience and carry it with her as she could.
She was intensely emotional, and swayed others by their emotions rather than by logic; yet she was the least conscious of her physical existence of any one I ever knew, with the exception of Susan B. Anthony.
Like ``Aunt Susan,'' Miss Willard paid no heed to cold or heat or hunger, to privation or fatigue. In their relations to such trifles both women were dis- e mbodied spirits.
Another woman doing wonderful work at this time was Mrs. Quincy Shaw, who had recently started her day nurseries for the care of tenement children whose mothers labored by the day. These nurseries were new in Boston, as was the kindergarten system she also established. I saw the effect of her work in the lives of the people, and it strengthened my growing conviction that little could be done for the poor in a spiritual or educational way until they were given a certain amount of physical comfort, and until more time was devoted to the problem of prevention.
Indeed, the more I studied economic issues, the more strongly I felt that the position of most philan- t hropists is that of men who stand at the bottom of a precipice gathering up and trying to heal those who fall into it, instead of guarding the top and pre- v enting them from going over.
Of course I had to earn my living; but, though I h ad taken my medical degree only a few months before leaving Cape Cod, I had no intention of prac- t ising medicine. I had merely wished to add a certain amount of medical knowledge to my mental equipment. The Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association, of which Lucy Stone was president, had frequently employed me as a lecturer during the last two years of my pastorate. Now it offered me a salary of one hundred dollars a month as a lecturer and organizer. Though I may not have seemed so in these reminiscences, in which I have written as freely of my small victories as of my struggles and failures, I was a modest young person. The amount seemed too large, and I told Mrs. Stone as much, after which I humbly fixed my salary at fifty dollars a month. At the end of a year of work I felt that I had ``made good''; then I asked for and received the one hundred dollars a month originally offered me.
During my second year Miss Cora Scott Pond and I organized and carried through in Boston a great suffrage bazaar, clearing six thousand dollars for the association--a large amount in those days.
Elated by my share in this success, I asked that my salary should be increased to one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month--but this was not done.
Instead, I received a valuable lesson. It was freely admitted that my work was worth one hundred and twenty-five dollars, but I was told that one hundred was the limit which could be paid, and I was re- m inded that this was a good salary for a woman.
The time seemed to have come to make a practical stand in defense of my principles, and I did so by resigning and arranging an independent lecture tour.