A FIRST SPEECH AND SOME NOTED WOMEN.

In those broken-hearted days Clara said with a pathetic earnestness: “Now I must try to be two daughters to you. You have not lost all your children—only your best child.” We drew nearer and more mutually dependent as time passed, each trying to fill the awful void for the other. How could I dream that the insatiable archer was only waiting, with fatal dart in rest, to claim another victim? We made common joy as well as sorrow, and tried to lead each other out into the sunlit places, the simple pleasures of home and social life.

Early in the year 1897 a State Constitutional Convention was assembled in New Orleans. The legal inequality of woman in Louisiana had already challenged the notice of some women, and a recent incident was outraging the hearts of a few who had the vision of seers. The Board of Control of St. Ann’s Asylum—an institution in New Orleans for the relief of destitute women and children—was composed entirely of women. A German inmate on her deathbed revealed that she had $1,000 in bank, and by a will, witnessed by members of the Board, she bequeathed it to the institution which had sheltered her. On submission of the will to probate, the ladies were informed that it was invalid, because a woman was not a legal witness to a will. The bequest went to the State—and the women went to thinking and agitating.

Mrs. Elizabeth L. Saxon urged that we should appear before the Convention with our grievances. I did not feel equal to such an effort, but Mrs. Saxon said: “Instead of grieving yourself to death for your daughter who is gone, rise up out of the ashes and do something for the other women who are left!” My husband insisted that, having always wanted to do something for women, now was my opportunity. Mrs. Saxon and I drew up the following petition:

“To the Honorable President and Members of the Convention of the State of Louisiana, convened for the purpose of framing a new Constitution:

“Petition of the undersigned, citizens of the State of Louisiana, respectfully represents:

“That up to the present time, all women, of whatever age or capacity, have been debarred from the right of representation, notwithstanding the burdensome taxes which they have paid.

“They have been excluded from holding office save in cases of special tutorship in limited degree—or of administration only in specified cases.

“They have been debarred from being witnesses in wills or notarial acts, even when executed by their own sex.

“They look upon this condition of things as a grievance proper to be brought before your honorable body for consideration and relief.

“As a question of civilization, we look upon the enfranchisement of women as an all important one. In Wyoming, where it has been tried for ten years, the Lawmakers and Clergy unite in declaring that this influx of women voters has done more to promote law, morality and order, than thousands of armed men could have accomplished.

“Should the entire franchise seem too extended a privilege, we most earnestly urge the adoption of a property qualification, and that women may also be allowed a vote on school and educational matters, involving as they do the interests of women and children in a great degree.

“So large a proportion of the taxes of Louisiana is paid by women, many of them without male representatives, that in granting consideration and relief for grievances herein complained of, the people will recognize Justice and Equity; that to woman as well as man ‘taxation without representation is tyranny,’ she being ‘a person, a citizen, a freeholder, a taxpayer,’ the same as man, only the government has never held out the same fostering, protecting hand to all alike, nor ever will, until women are directly represented.

“Wherefore, we, your petitioners, pray that some suitable provision remedying these evils be incorporated in the Constitution you are about to frame.”

Four hundred influential names were secured to the petition, Mrs. Saxon, almost unaided, having gained three hundred of them. It was sent to the Convention and referred to the Committee on Suffrage, which on May 7 invited the ladies to a conference at the St. Charles Hotel. Mrs. Mollie Moore Davis, Colonel and Mrs. John M. Sandige, Mr. and Mrs. Saxon were present. Dr. Harriette C. Keating, a representative woman in professional life, Mrs. Elizabeth L. Saxon, already a well-known and fearless reformer, and Caroline E. Merrick, as the voice of home, were chosen to appear before the Convention on the evening of June 16, 1879. Eighty-six members of the Convention were present; a half hundred representatives of “lovely woman” were there. Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines, the celebrated litigant, with a few other notables, occupied the middle of the floor, and youth and beauty retired into a corner. Mr. Poche, chairman of the Suffrage Committee, and afterward a member of the Supreme Court of the State, asked me if I were afraid. “Afraid,” I said, “is not the word. I’m scared almost to death!” He tried to encourage me by recounting the terrors of many men similarly placed.

Mrs. Keating was first introduced, and, at the Secretary’s desk, in a clear voice, with dignified self-possession set forth the capabilities of women for mastering political science sufficiently to vote intelligently on questions of the day. Mrs. Saxon following, was greeted with an outburst of welcome. She reviewed the customs of various nations to which women were required to conform, and called attention to the fact that the party which favored woman suffrage would poll twelve million votes. She made clear that the fact of sex could not qualify or disqualify for an intelligent vote: she mentioned that numbers of women had told her they wanted to be present that night, but their husbands would not permit them to come.

Mrs. Elizabeth Lyle Saxon is a woman possessed of fine intellect and an uncommonly warm and generous nature. She was a pioneer in the Suffrage Cause in the South, and has ably represented its interests in National gatherings. She was sent as delegate from this State to the International Suffrage Association of the World’s Auxiliary Congress in 1893. All along the way she has given of her best with whole-hearted zeal to further the cause of women, and should claim the undying gratitude of those for whom she has helped to build the bridges of human equality.

Mr. Robertson, of St. Landry, then offered the resolution: “Resolved, That the Committee on elective franchise be directed to embody in the articles upon suffrage reported to this Convention, a provision giving the right of suffrage to women upon the same terms as to men.”

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 assembly, 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 petition 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 assured 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 assist 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 nobler 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 assistance we are so capable of furnishing 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 sex; 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, constitutionally 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 noble 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 companionship which God 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 God 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 destitute. 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 pass 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 assume 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 document, “I do not intend to share in the ingratitude of my country toward the man who is, in my eyes, the highest and noblest 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 passed on, with whom the meeting again is looked forward to with true delight.”

When the new Constitution 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 Constitution 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 Constitution 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 Constitution 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 Constitutional 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 manuscript 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 sparse 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 gratitude 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 noble type of an ideal gentleman, he laughed at its inappropriateness, and said: ‘With my antecedents and associations 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, nÉe 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; nobody 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 assured 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 butter as big as a hickory-nut” which, along with a gill of rosewater, her cook-book constantly recommended, to my as constant perplexity and amusement. (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 classes. 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 passion 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 amusements as a human necessity, bringing the divine law to their regeneration rather than to their condemnation? The existence of any evil presupposes its remedy.