A number of years ago, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, in her own unsurpassed beauty of language, said:
I will attempt no analysis of one as dear to me as those of my own household. In an intimate friendship of many years, without a break or shadow; in daily consultation, sometimes for months together under the same roof, often in circumstances of great trial and perplexity, I can truly say that Susan B. Anthony is the most charitable, self-reliant, magnanimous human being that I ever knew.
As I recall the honesty and heroism of her public life; her tenderness and generous self-sacrifice to friends in private; her spontaneous good will towards her worst enemies, a new hope kindles within me for womankind—a hope that by giving some high purpose to their lives, all women may be lifted above the petty envy, jealousy, malice and discontent that now poison so many hearts which might, in healthy action, overflow with love and helpfulness to all humanity. Miss Anthony's grand life is a lesson to all unmarried women, showing that the love-element need not be wholly lost if it is not centered on husband and children. To live for a principle, for the triumph of some reform by which all mankind are to be lifted up—to be wedded to an idea—may be, after all, the holiest and happiest of marriages.
In the twilight of age, when Mrs. Stanton prepared for future generations the Reminiscences of her life and work of fourscore years, she wrote to her old friend: "The current of our lives has run in the same channel so long it can not be separated, and my book is as much your story as, I doubt not, yours is mine;" and when it was ended she placed upon it the inscription, "I dedicate this volume to Susan B. Anthony, my steadfast friend for half a century."
Steadfast! No other word so fitly defines the keystone of the arch of noble attributes upon which this heroic life is founded—as constant to a principle as to a friendship. There is nothing of the martyr in Miss Anthony's nature and she refuses to consider herself in the light of a vicarious sacrifice. "I do not look back upon a hard life," she says; "I have been continually at work because I enjoyed being busy. Had this never-ending toil made me wretched in mind or body, I have no doubt that in some way I should have gotten out of it." "What thanks did you receive for the stand you made?" once was asked her. "I had my own thanks for retaining my self-respect," was the reply. Again one inquired, "Did you not grow discouraged in those olden times?" "Never," she answered; "I knew that my cause was just, and I was always in good company." Her character, instead of growing embittered by the hard experiences of early days, has been sweetened and strengthened by the high moral purpose which has dominated her life. She is a philanthropist in her love of mankind and her work for humanity, but she is governed by philosophy rather than emotion, ever examining causes and effects by the pure light of reason and logic.
Susan B. Anthony has been called the Napoleon of the woman suffrage movement and, in the planning of campaigns and the boldness and daring of carrying them forward, there may be the qualities of that famous general, but in character and principles the comparison fails utterly. She has been termed the Gladstone among women, and in statesmanlike ability and long years of distinguished service, there may be points of resemblance, but she would repudiate the sacrifice of justice to party expediency, oftentimes charged against the noted English politician. It has been said that she has been the great Liberator of women, as Lincoln was of the negroes. There is indeed something in her countenance and manner which reminds one of Lincoln, the same unconscious dignity, the same rugged endurance, the same strong, resolute face, softened by lines of weariness and care and spiritualized by an expression of infinite patience and indescribable pathos. She has not, however, the conservatism, the forbearance, the reverence for existing laws and constitutions, which made Lincoln slow to act and tolerant almost to the point of criticism.
She has been described as being to the cause of woman's emancipation, what Garrison was to that of the slave. She has, perhaps, more of the characteristics of Garrison than of the other three conspicuous figures of the century. His motto, "No Compromise," has been her watchword. Like Garrison, she strikes a body-blow straight from the shoulder. She recognizes no such word as expediency and accepts no halfway measures. Theoretically a non-resistant, she fights to the last ditch and never accepts a defeat as final. She has the natural gift of selecting always the strongest word, and the power of carrying conviction to her audience. She is conventional in outward observances, but most radical in thought and speech. She detests all forms of cruelty and oppression, but it is the action, not the person, that she censures, and she is most charitable in excuses for the faults and failings of others. She bears the ills of life with cheerful fortitude, and accepts the blessings with fine humility. There is no need of comparison. She has her own strong individuality, which has made its indelible impress upon history and secured for her a place among the immortals. Now, in life's evening, her world is illumined with the beauty of a sunset undimmed by clouds—and as she contemplates the infinite, she takes no heed of the gathering darkness of night, but looking into a clear sky beholds only the ineffable glory of other spheres.
FOOTNOTES:
[132] Miss Laura Clay and Mrs. Catharine Waugh McCulloch, the national auditors, were unable to be present.
[133] There were present also reporters from the New York Sun, New York World, Springfield Republican, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, and other papers.