CHAPTER LVIII.
REMINISCENCES.
BY E. C. S.
Reaching London amidst the fogs and mists of November, 1882, the first person I met, after a separation of many years, was our revered and beloved friend, William Henry Channing. The tall, graceful form was somewhat bent; the sweet, thoughtful face somewhat sadder; the crimes and miseries of the world seemed more heavy on his heart than ever. With his refined, nervous organization, the gloomy moral and physical atmosphere of London was the last place on earth where that beautiful life should have ended. I found him in earnest conversation with my daughter and a young Englishman soon to be married, advising them not only as to the importance of the step they were about to take, but as to the minor points to be observed in the ceremony. At the appointed time a few friends gathered in Portland-street chapel, and as we approached the altar, our friend appeared in surplice and gown, his pale, spiritual face more tender and beautiful than ever. This was the last marriage service he ever performed, and it was as pathetic as original, his whole appearance so in harmony with the exquisite sentiments he uttered that we who listened felt as if for the time being we had entered with him into the Holy of Holies.
Some time after, Miss Anthony and I called on him, to return our thanks for the very complimentary review he had written of the History of Woman Suffrage. He thanked us in turn for the many pleasant memories we had revived in those pages, which he said had been as entertaining as a novel; "but," said he, "they have filled me with indignation, too, over the repeated insults offered to women so earnestly engaged in honest endeavors for the uplifting of mankind. I blushed for my sex more than once in reading these volumes." We lingered long in talking over the events connected with this great struggle for freedom. He dwelt with tenderness on our divisions and disappointments, and entered more fully into the humiliations suffered by women than any man we ever met. His conversation that day was fully as appreciative of the nice points in the degradation of sex as is John Stuart Mill in his wonderful work on "The Subjection of Woman." He was intensely interested in Frances Power Cobbe's efforts to suppress the vivisectionists, and the last time I saw him he was presiding at a parlor meeting at Mrs. Wolcott Brown's, when Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell gave an admirable address on the causes and cure of the social evil. Mr. Channing spoke beautifully in closing, paying a warm and merited compliment to Miss Blackwell's clear and concise review of all the difficulties involved in the question.
Reading so much of English reformers in our journals, of the Brights, the McLarens, the Taylors, of Lydia Becker, Caroline Biggs, Josephine Butler and Octavia Hill, and of their great demonstrations with lords and members of parliament in the chair, we had longed to compare the actors in those scenes with our speakers and conventions on this side the water. At last we met them, one and all, in London, York, Manchester, Liverpool, Glasgow, Edinburgh, in great public meetings and parlor reunions, at dinners and receptions, listened to their public men in parliament, the courts and the pulpit, to the women in their various assemblies, and came to the conclusion that Americans surpass them in oratory and the spirited manner in which they conduct meetings. They have no system of elocution in England such as we have—a thorough training of the voice, in what is called vocal gymnastics. A hesitating, apologetic way seems to be the national idea for an exordium on all questions. Even their ablest men who have visited this country, such as Kingsley, Stanley, Arnold, Spencer, Tyndal, Huxley, and Canon Farrar, have all been criticised by the American public for their stammering enunciation. They have no speakers to compare with Wendell Phillips and George William Curtis, or Anna Dickinson and Phœbe W. Couzins. John Bright is without a peer among his countrymen, as are Mrs. Bessant and Miss Helen Taylor among the women. Miss Tod, from Belfast, is a good speaker. The women, as a general thing, are more fluent than the men; those of the Bright family in all its branches have deep, rich voices.
Among the young women, Mrs. Fawcett, Mrs. Charles McLaren, Mrs. Scatcherd, Miss Henrietta Müller, Mrs. Fenwick Miller, and Lady Harberton, all speak with comparative ease and self-possession. The latter is striving to introduce for her countrywomen a new style of dress, in which all the garments are bifurcated, but so skillfully adjusted in generous plaits and folds, that while the wearer enjoys the utmost freedom, the casual observer is quite ignorant of the innovation. We attended one of their public meetings for the discussion of that question, at which Miss King, Mrs. Charles McLaren, and Lady Harberton appeared in the new costume. All spoke in its defense, and were very witty and amusing in criticising the present feminine forms and fashions. Lady Harberton gave us a delightful entertainment one evening at her fine residence on Cromwell Road, where we laughed enough to dissipate the depressing effect of the fogs for a week to come over the recitations of Corney Green on the piano. There, among many other celebrities, we met Moncure D. Conway[575] and his charming wife.
I reached England in time to attend the great demonstration in Glasgow to celebrate the extension of the municipal franchise to the women of Scotland. It was a remarkable occasion. St. Andrew's immense hall was packed with women; a few men were admitted to the gallery at half a crown apiece. It was said there were 5,000 people present. When a Scotch audience is thoroughly roused, nothing can equal the enthusiasm. The arriving of the speakers on the platform was announced with the wildest applause, the entire audience rising, waving their handkerchiefs, and clapping their hands, and every compliment paid the people was received with similar outbursts of pleasure. Mrs. McLaren, a sister of John Bright,[576] presided, and made the opening speech. I had the honor, on this occasion, of addressing an audience for the first time in the old world. Many others spoke briefly. There were too many speakers; no one had time to warm up to the point of eloquence. Our system of conventions of two or three days, with long speeches discussing pointed and radical resolutions, is quite unknown in England. Their meetings consist of one session of a few hours into which they crowd all the speakers they can summon together. They have a few tame resolutions on which there can be no possible difference of opinion printed, with the names of those who are to speak appended. Each of these is read, a few short speeches made, that may or may not have the slightest reference to the resolution, which is then passed. The last is usually one of thanks to some lord or member of parliament who may have condescended to preside at the meeting, or to do something for the measure in parliament; it is spoken to like all that have gone before. The Queen is referred to tenderly in most of the speeches, although she has never done anything to merit the approbation of the advocates of suffrage for woman. As on this occasion a woman conducted the meeting, much of the usual red tape was omitted.
From Glasgow quite a large party of the Brights and McLarens went to Edinburgh, where the Hon. Duncan McLaren gave us a warm welcome to Newington House, under the very shadow of the Salisbury crags. These and the Pentland Hills are the remarkable feature in the landscape as you approach this beautiful city, with its monuments and castles on which are written the history of the centuries. We passed a few charming days driving about, visiting old friends, and discussing the status of woman on both sides of the Atlantic. Here we met Elizabeth Pease Nichol, Jane and Eliza Wigham, whom I had not seen since we sat together in the World's Anti-slavery Convention in London in 1840, Yet I knew Mrs. Nichol at once; her strongly-marked face is one not readily forgotten.