Old Times in Dixie Land Part 9

Under the rules this resolution had to lie over.

Fearing that I could not be heard, I had proposed that Mr. Jas. B.

Guthrie, my son-in-law, should read my speech. But Mrs. Saxon said: "You do not wish a man to represent you at the polls; represent yourself now, if you only stand up and move your lips." "I will," I said. "You are right." The following is my address in part:

"Mr. President and Delegates of the Convention:

"When we remember the persistent and aggressive efforts which our energetic sisters of the North have exerted for so many years in their struggle before they could obtain a hearing from any legislative a.s.sembly, we find ourselves lost in a pleasing astonishment at the graciousness which beams upon us here from all quarters. Should we even now be remanded to our places, and our pet.i.tion meet with an utter refusal, we should be grieved to the heart, we should be sorely disappointed, but we never could cherish the least feeling of rebellious spite toward this convention of men, who have shown themselves so respectful and considerate toward the women of Louisiana.

"Perhaps some of the gentlemen thought we did not possess the moral courage to venture even thus far from the retirement in which we have always preferred to dwell. Be a.s.sured that a resolute and conscientious woman can put aside her individual preferences at the call of duty, and act unselfishly for the good of others.

"The ladies who have already addressed you have given you unanswerable arguments, and in eloquent language have made their appeal, to which you could not have been insensible or indifferent. It only remains for me to give you some of my own individual views in the few words which are to conclude this interview.

"The laws on the statute books permit us to own property and enjoy its revenues, but do not permit us to say who shall collect the taxes. We are thus compelled to a.s.sist in the support of the State in an enforced way, when we ourselves would greatly prefer to do the same thing with our own intelligent, free consent.

"We know this Republic has been lauded in the old times of the Fourth of July orations as the freest, best government the world ever saw. If women, the better half of humanity, were allowed a voice and influence in its councils, I believe it would be restored to its purity and ancient glory; and a n.o.bler patriotism would be brought to life in the heart of this nation.

"It seems to me that there ought to be a time, to which we may look forward with satisfaction, when we shall cease to be minors, when the sympathy and a.s.sistance we are so capable of furnis.h.i.+ng in the domestic relation, may in a smaller degree be available for the good and economical management of public affairs. It really appears strange to us, after we have brought up children and regulated our houses, where often we have the entire responsibility, with money and valuables placed in our charge, that a man can be found who would humiliate us by expressing an absolute fear to trust us with the ballot.

"In many nations there is an army of earnest, thoughtful, large-hearted women, working day and night to elevate their s.e.x; for their higher education; to open new avenues for their industrious hands; trying to make women helpers to man, instead of millstones round his neck to sink him in his life struggle.

"Ah, if we could only infuse into your souls the courage which we, const.i.tutionally timid as we are, now feel on this subject, you would not only dare but hasten to perform this act of justice and inaugurate the beginning of the end which all but the blind can see is surely and steadily approaching. We are willing to accept anything. We have always been in the position of beggars, as now, and cannot be choosers if we wished. We shall gladly accept the franchise on any terms, provided they be wholly and entirely honorable. If you should see proper to subject us to an educational test, even of a high order, we would try to attain it; if you require a considerable property qualification, we would not complain. We would be only too grateful for any amelioration of our legal disabilities. Allow me to ask, are we less prepared for the intelligent exercise of the right of suffrage than were the freedmen when it was suddenly conferred upon them?

"Perhaps you think only a few of us desire the ballot. Even if this were true, we think it would not be any sufficient reason for withholding it.

In old times most of our slaves were happy and contented. Under the rule of good and humane masters, they gave themselves no trouble to grasp after the unattainable freedom which was beyond their reach. So it is with us to-day. We are happy and kindly treated (as witness our reception to-night), and in the enjoyment of the numerous privileges which our chivalrous gentlemen are so ready to accord; many of us who feel a wish for freedom do not venture even to whisper a single word about our rights.

For the last twenty-five years I have occasionally expressed a wish to vote, and it was always received with surprise; but the sort of effect produced was as different as the characters of the individuals with whom I conversed. I cannot see how the simple act of voting can hurt or injure a true and n.o.ble woman any more than it degrades the brave and honorable man.

"Gentlemen of the Convention, we now leave our cause in your hands, and commend it to your favorable consideration. We have pointed out to you the signs of the dawning of a better day for woman, which are so plain before our eyes, and implore you to reach out your hands and help us to establish that free and equal companions.h.i.+p which G.o.d ordained in the beginning in the Garden of Eden before the serpent came and curses fell."

Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey was prevented by illness, which terminated fatally, from appearing personally, but sent a letter which was read before the Convention by Col. John M. Sandige. She advanced, among others, the following ideas: "Being left by the fiat of G.o.d entirely alone in the world, with no man to represent me; having large interests in the State, and no voice either in representation or taxation, while hundreds of my negro lessees vote and control my life and property, I feel that I ought to say one word that may aid many other women whom fate has left equally dest.i.tute. I ask representation for taxation--for my sisters and for the future race. We do not expect to do men's work, we can never pa.s.s the limits which nature herself has set. But we ask for justice; we ask for the removal of unnatural restrictions that are contrary to the elemental spirit of the civil law; we do not ask for rights, but for permission to a.s.sume our natural responsibilities."

Mrs. Dorsey was a native of Mississippi, and became widely conspicuous by reason of the bequest of her home, Beauvoir, and other personal property, to Mr. Jefferson Davis. She made this will because, as mentioned in the doc.u.ment, "I do not intend to share in the ingrat.i.tude of my country toward the man who is, in my eyes, the highest and n.o.blest in existence."

Mrs. Elisha Warfield, of Kentucky, was the aunt of Mrs. Dorsey, and the author of the novel "Beauvoir," from which the plantation was named, and which estate Mrs. Dorsey devoted to the cultivation of oranges. She was a rarely gifted woman. Besides the usual accomplishments of women of her day, she possessed remarkable musical skill, and was a pupil of Bochsa, owning the harp which he had taught her to handle as a master. She was a writer of power and had studied law and book-keeping. A friend who was present in her last illness wrote me: "She appeared to greater advantage in her home than anywhere else. She was of those whom one comes to know soon and to love; and is one of the many who have pa.s.sed on, with whom the meeting again is looked forward to with true delight."

When the new Const.i.tution was promulgated it contained but one little concession to women: "Art. 232.--Women twenty-one years of age and upwards shall be eligible to any office of control or management under the school laws of the State."

The women of Louisiana have realized no advantage from this law. Their first demand was for a place on the school board of New Orleans, in 1885.

The governor fills by appointment all school offices. Gov. McEnery ruled that Art. 232 of the Const.i.tution was inoperative until there should be legislation to enforce it, the existing statutes of Louisiana barring a woman from acting independent of her husband, and would make the husband of a married woman a co-appointee to any public office; that a repeal of this _in solido_ statute was necessary before he could place a woman on the school board.

Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton's seventieth birthday was on Nov. 12 of this year. In her honor a special reception was held by the Woman's Club of New Orleans. I here reviewed the action of the governor in a paper which set forth the following points: First, that the Const.i.tution is imperative; that legislation for its self-acting and absolute provisions would be to place the creature in control of the creator. Second, that the legislature had no jurisdiction over the eligibility of women to appointment on school boards, as the Const.i.tution had explicitly declared that "women twenty-one and upwards shall be eligible." Third, if the governor's objection against married women were valid it had no force against unmarried women and widows.

Protest, however, proved futile. No succeeding governor appointed a woman, so no test case was ever made, and the Const.i.tutional Convention of 1898 repealed this little shadow of justice to women, even in the face of the fact that at the time the small concession was made one-half of the 80,000 children in the public schools of New Orleans were girls, and 368 out of the 389 teachers were women.

In 1880 I met General and Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant, at a private reception given at the home of Hon. Walker Fearn, in New Orleans. The General was a handsome, soldierly man. I told him that we had mutual friends, and named Bishop Simpson, whom, with his wife, I had entertained, and liked because of his liberal views toward women. "That," said General Grant, "is what I object to." "Oh, General," I answered, "I hope that you would not be unwilling that we should have the ballot?" "No, Mrs. Merrick, I should not be unwilling that you and Mrs. Grant should vote, but I should seriously object to confer that responsibility on Bridget, your cook." I had always heard that General Grant could not talk, and was surprised to find him so genial and agreeable. Knowing me to be a Southern woman, he questioned me keenly and intelligently about the people of my section. I had a half-hour of delightful conversation with him, which he, equally with myself, seemed to enjoy.

During the year 1881 Miss Genevieve Ward was filling an engagement at the Grand Opera House in New Orleans. This winning actress was a descendant of Jonathan Edwards, the renowned Puritan preacher, and at that time was in her prime. At the request of her husband's relatives in New York, my daughter entertained this famous lady at a lunch party, where I was present. We found her a dignified, modest woman, and, like Charlotte Cushman, above reproach. She was an intimate friend of the great Ristori.

Among our twelve guests was Geo. W. Cable, already become famous. His last book, with all of our autographs in it, was given to Miss Ward as a souvenir of the occasion.

My daughter had known Mr. Cable in his early literary ventures. He sometimes brought chapters of his ma.n.u.script to read to her. The South realized at once that a new literary artist had arisen out of its sea of ruin. That he wounded the feelings of some of his people is largely attributable to the fact that he spoke inopportunely; his work was cast upon the tolerance of public opinion when every nerve was bleeding and every heart hypersensitive to suggestion or criticism. It was too early an expression, and fell upon bristling points of indignant protest. But that he deeply loved his own city and people the most prejudiced can scarcely doubt, now that the perspective of three decades has softened the asperities of judgment. Only a soul that had made it his own could picture as he has done the silence, the weirdness, the majesty of the moss-draped swamps of lower Louisiana, the crimson and purple of the sunsets mirrored upon the glistening surface of her black, shallow bayous,--the spa.r.s.e and flitting presence of man and beast and bird across this still-life making it but the more desolate. Cable was the first to see the rich types afforded to literature in the character, condition and history of the Creoles, and he has transformed them into immortals. Only love can create "pictures of life so exquisitely clear, delicately tender or tragically sorrowful" as he has made of the Latin-Americans. The South has already forgiven his historical frankness in its pride in the artist who has preserved for the future the romance, and color, and beauty of a race that, like so much else lovable and poetic and inspiring in our early history, by the end of another century will be blended indistinguishably with the less picturesque but all-prevailing type that is determining an American people.

I had been so impressed by his genius that I could not withhold from him my word of appreciation, and received in 1879 the following reply to my note: "I want to say to you that you are the first Southerner who has expressed grat.i.tude to the author of 'Old Creole Days' for telling the truth. That has been my ambition, and to be recognized as having done it a little more faithfully than most Southern writers is a source of as hearty satisfaction as I have ever enjoyed. How full our South is of the richest material for the story writer!

"G. W. Cable."

About this time Clara and the author of "Innocents Abroad" were guests together in the same home in Buffalo, New York, from which place she wrote me: "He is a wonderfully liberal yet clever talker. I think I shall be able to d-r-a-w-l like him by two o'clock to-morrow, when he leaves. He has written in my Emerson birthday book. When he found the selection for November 30th to be that high and severely n.o.ble type of an ideal gentleman, he laughed at its inappropriateness, and said: 'With my antecedents and a.s.sociations it is impossible that I can be a gentleman, as I often tell my wife--to her furious indignation;'--so he signs himself 'S. L. Clemens, nee Mark Twain,' in allusion to his early career as a pilot, and the name by which the world first knew him. I like him immensely, and shall doubtless weary you some morning with a reproduction of his numerous unfoldings."

I also met Mr. Clemens socially at Mr. Cable's house. Many years before, I had seen Charlotte Cushman in the White Mountains. We were one day together in the same stage. An opportunity offering, with much delight Miss Cushman mounted to the top. She made her first appearance as Lady Macbeth in New Orleans. She looked the "Meg Merrilies" she had re-created for the world,--a vigorous woman in mind, body and character, and a gifted talker; n.o.body else was listened to when she was present. She bore in her face the earnestness of her spirit, the tragedy of her struggles, the intensity of her sympathy and the calm strength of her success.

Not long before her death I met Mrs. Eliza Leslie in Philadelphia. I was exceedingly glad of this opportunity, for she was one of the few premature women who had a message to give, and who did give it, notwithstanding in doing so she had to bear the disgrace of being a "blue-stocking." She was a very quiet and dignified woman. I saw that she was quite bored by the loud talking of some small literary pretenders who were endeavoring to astonish her by their remarks on French drama. One offered to read to her an original poem, and the others a.s.sured her that she alone of American women was capable of rendering the true spirit of a French play. She talked with me about the South. She said she was glad to know that she had Southern readers and friends, and that if ever she visited the South it would be without prejudices. I thought of her sweet dishes, and I longed to ask her about the size of that "piece of b.u.t.ter as big as a hickory-nut" which, along with a gill of rosewater, her cook-book constantly recommended, to my as constant perplexity and amus.e.m.e.nt.

(Query--What sized hickory-nut?)

The next year in February, 1882, I dined at Mrs. Guthrie's with Edwin Booth and his daughter Edwina. He was then at his best, and forty-nine years of age. I saw him at that time as Hamlet. He was a very modest man and dreaded after-dinner speeches, saying they gave him a stage-fright, and that he always tried to sit by a guest who would promise to take his place when he could not say anything. He was shown a rare edition of Shakespere, and a disputed point being introduced, he read several pages aloud with remarkable effect, though reading in private was contrary to his habit. The day was Sunday, and he mentioned how delightful it was to him to be in a quiet Christian home during the sacred hours. Booth acquired no mannerisms with age. His art so mastered him--or he mastered it--that his simplicity of style increased with years, which implies that his character grew with his fame.

Without being a habitue of the theater, I have enjoyed it from time to time all along my life-road. There is undoubtedly much to object to in the modern stage. Its personnel, methods of presentation and the character of many of the plays should call down just and strong censure. But it seems to me no more wrong to act a drama than to write one. Faith in humanity and in the ultimate triumph of good leads me to the conclusion that if the better people directed patient, believing effort to the purification of the stage, the time would come when histrionic genius would be recognized and cherished to its full value; and the best people would control the theater, and would crowd from it those debasing dramas which, as never before in our day, are having the encouragement of the leading social cla.s.ses. It is time something were done--and the right thing--to make it at least "bad form" that young men and women should witness together the broadly immoral plays that have of late so much shocked all right-minded people. If one generation tolerates the breaking down of moral barriers in public thought, the next generation may witness in equal degree the destruction of personal morality. The stage is but the expression of an instinctive human pa.s.sion to impersonate. Masquerading is the favorite game of every nursery. It has been well said that "a great human activity sustained through many decades always has some deep and vital impulse behind it; misuse and abuse of every kind cannot hide that fact and ought not to hide it." An instinct cannot be destroyed, but it may be directed--and nature is never immoral. Will the church ever be able to discriminate between that which is intrinsically wrong and that which is wrong by use and misdirection, and will it set itself to study without prejudice the whole question of public amus.e.m.e.nts as a human necessity, bringing the divine law to their regeneration rather than to their condemnation? The existence of any evil presupposes its remedy.

CHAPTER XIII.

FRANCES WILLARD.

In June, 1881, I spoke by invitation before the Alumnae a.s.sociation of Whitworth College, at Brookhaven, Mississippi,--a venerable inst.i.tution under the care of the Methodist Episcopal Church South. I did not give those young women strong doctrine, but I set before them the duty to

"Learn the mystery of progression truly:-- Nor dare to blame G.o.d's gifts for incompleteness."

Bishop Keener, the well-known opponent of women's public work, sat beside me on the platform. When the addresses were concluded, he p.r.o.nounced them "very good." "For women?" I asked. "No," he returned, "for _anybody_!" I treated the gentlemen to some of the extemporaneous "sugar plums" which for a half century they have been accustomed to shower from the rostrum upon women--"just to let them see how it sounded." Though it was against the rules, they applauded as if they were delighted.

I said: "Lest they should feel overlooked and slighted, I will say a word to the men--G.o.d bless them. Our hearts warm toward the manly angels--our rulers, guides, and protectors, to whom we confide all our troubles and on whom we lay all our burdens. Oh! what a n.o.ble being is an honest, upright, fearless, generous, manly man! How such men endear our firesides, and adorn and bless our homes. How sweet is their encouragement of our timid efforts in every good word and work, and how grateful we are to be loved by these n.o.ble comforters, and how utterly wretched and sad this world would be, deprived of their honored and gracious presence. Again, I say G.o.d bless the men."

This occasion was of moment to me, because it led to one of the chief events of my life--my friends.h.i.+p and work with Frances E. Willard. She had seen in the New Orleans _Times_ the address I made at Brookhaven, and was moved to ask me if I could get her an audience in my city, which she had already visited without results. I had been invited to join the little band enlisted by Mrs. Annie Wittenmeyer, the first president of the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union; but I had declined, saying that this temperance work was the most unpopular and hardest reform ever attempted. However, I looked up the remnant of the first society, and went with their good president, Mrs. Frances A. Lyons, to call on every minister in town, requesting each to announce the date of Miss Willard's address, and to urge upon their congregations that they should hear her speak. We were uncommonly successful, even that princely Christian, Rev.

B. F. Palmer, D. D., departing from the usual Presbyterian conservatism.

The result was a large audience in Carondelet Methodist Church, of which Rev. Felix R. Hill was the brave pastor;--for it required no little moral courage at that time to introduce a woman to speak, and to do it in a church, and on a subject upon which the public conscience was not only asleep, but which affronted even many Christians' sense of personal liberty.

I remember that I remonstrated when Miss Willard removed her bonnet and stood with uncovered head. But I could find no fault with the n.o.ble expression of serene sadness on her clear-cut features and with the gentle humility and sweetness which emanated from her entire personality.

Heavenly sentiments dropped in fitly chosen sentences with perfect utterance, as she argued for the necessity of a clear brain and pure habits in order to establish the Master's kingdom on earth. The hearts of the people went out to her in spontaneous sympathy and admiration; and the brethren were ready to bid her G.o.d-speed, for they felt that this public appearance was due to an impelling conviction that would not let her be silent. Thus the New Orleans Methodist Church, that indomitable pioneer of reform, proclaimed "All hail! to Frances Willard and the glorious cause."

Some effort had been made to attain this success. With Miss Willard's telegram in hand, I had despatched a message to my son, Edwin T. Merrick, jr., and to the W. C. T. U., but the train arriving ahead of time, a carriage brought the expected guest and her companion, Miss Anna Gordon, to my door, where I alone received and welcomed them. After weary travels over thousands of miles and stoppages in as many towns, they were glad to rest a week in my home. I had sent out hundreds of cards for a reception.

My house was thronged. Distinguished members of the bench, the bar, the pulpit, the press and the literary world were present, and a large number of young women and men. Frances Willard came to most of these as a revelation--this una.s.suming, delicate, progressive woman, with her sweet, intellectual face, her ready gaiety and her extraordinarily enlarged sympathies, which seemed to put her spirit at once in touch with every one who spoke to her. She wore, I remember, a black brocaded silk and point lace fichu. She ever had the right word in the right place as she greeted each one who was presented.

She particularly desired to see Geo. W. Cable, who was present with his wife. "This is our literary lion to-night," I said. "Oh, no!" he replied, "I come nearer being your house cat!" at which sally Miss Willard laughed.

This visit was in March, 1882.

I did not attend all of Miss Willard's meetings, and was greatly surprised when on returning from one of them she informed me that I was the president of the W. C. T. U. of New Orleans. I protested, and let her know I did not even have a members.h.i.+p in that body of women, she herself being for me the only object of interest in it. Finding that the source of power in my family resided ultimately in the head of the house, she wisely directed her persuasions in his direction. It was not long before I was advised by Mr. Merrick to come to terms and do whatever Miss Willard requested. This was the beginning of my work in the Woman's Christian Temperance Union and of a friends.h.i.+p which lasted until G.o.d called this lovely and gifted being to come up into a larger life.

Mrs. Hannah Whitehall Smith aptly styled Frances Willard "one of G.o.d's best gifts to the American womanhood of this century," having done more to enlarge their sympathies, widen their outlook and develop their mental aspirations, than any other individual of our time. She inspired purpose and courage in every heart. She said: "Sisters, we have no more need to be afraid of the step ahead of us than of the one we have just taken." Women have been ridiculed for their confidence in this glorious leader. It has been said that if Frances Willard had pushed a thin plank over a precipice, and had stepped out on it and said: "Come!" the White Ribbon host would have followed her to destruction. Yes, they certainly would have gone after her, for they had unwavering faith that her planks were safely lodged on solid foundations, plain to her clear sight, even when invisible to the rest of the world. I once told her that she had the fatal power attributed to the maelstrom which swallowed up s.h.i.+ps caught in the circle of its attractions; that the women whom she wished to enlist in her work were equally powerless to resist her compelling force. She had a genius for friends.h.i.+ps.