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EAMIN ENT
WOMEN OF TIE AGE;
BEING NARRATIVES OF
TIIE LIVES AND DEEDS
OF THE
Most Prominent Women of the Present Generation.
BY
JAMES PARTON, HORACE GREELEY, T. W. HIIIGGINSON, J. S.C. ABBOTT,
PoOP. JAIIES M. 1IOPPIN, WILLIAMI WINTER, TIIEODORE TILTON, FANNY FERN,
GRACE GREENWOOD, MIRS. E. C. STANTON, ETC.
~lkI~ 3*Ilsftrat~ k, 4 fourita  iSttu  ngravihgs.
HARTFORD, CONN.:
S. M. BETTS & COMPANY.
W. HI. BOOTIIROYD, DETROIT, MICHI
GIBBS & NICIIOLS, CIIICAGO, ILL.
H. H. BANCROFT & CO., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
1868.
& -2 qq I,?
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I 
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J? v 4
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
S. M. BETTS & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
District of Connecticut.
Manufactured by
CASE, LOCKWOOD & BRAINARD,
H AT F OH 0,  CONN.
!,
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I:)
1 
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
1. ROSA BONHEER,........
2. FLORENCE NIGIITINGALE,...
3. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY,....
4. EUGENIE, EMRPRESS OF THE FRENCH,
5. MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI,..
6. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
7. MRS. EIMA WILLARD,....
8. MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON
9. LUCRETIA MOTT.........
10. VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND,.
11. ADELAIDE RISTORI,.....
12. ANNA E. DICKINSON......
13. MRS. C. S. LOZIER, M. D....
14. IHARRIET G. HOSMER,....
\
-; I
I
.. t
PA'".
IECE.
ITLF,.
85
128
173
221
273
332
371
405
440
479
517
566
..........
..........
..........
.......... 
A
il 
PREFACE.
TFp, world is full of books that narrate the deeds and utter the
praises of men.  The lives of eminelnt men of our own time are
made familiar to us in newspapers and magazines, in individual
sketches and autobiographies, as well as in histories, dictionaries of
biography, cyclopedias and other works of greater or less range of
subject and extent of information.  But, while many things have
been written both by and for women, and much information has been
publihled in one form and another in respect to eminent women of
our age, there is not in existence, so far as the publishers are aware,
any work, or series of works, which supplies the information contained in this volume, or preoccupies its field.
And it appears to the publishers that there is a demand for this
very work.  The discussions of the present day in regard to the
elevation of w.oman, her duties, and the position which she is fitted
to occupy, seem to call fo(r some authentic and attractive record of
the lives and achievements of those women of our time who have
distinguishled themselves in their various occupations and conditions
in life.  The knowledge of what  has been attempted and accomplished by eminent wom,nen of our time is fitted to make an impression for good upon  the young women of our land, and  upon  the
whole American public.  It will tend to develop and strengthlen correct ideas respecting the influence of woman, and her share in the
privileges and responsibilities of human life.
In selecting the subjects for the sketches here presented, regard
has been had not only to individual excellence or eI:i;ence, but also
to a proper representation of the various professions in which women
have distinguishled themselves.   For obvious reasons, also, the selection has been confined chiefly to American women.
0
I 
PREFACE.
In selecting the writers for the various sketches, the publishers
have chosen those only whom they knew to be thoroughly qualified
for the particular tasks assigned them, and so interested in the subjects of their sketches as to be prepared to do them full justice.
Great attention has been given to the collection of materials which
should be at once interesting and authentic.  Variety and freshness
of interest are secured by obtaining sketches from a large number of
able writers, and by arranging their contributions so that no10 two consecutive chapters are the production of the same person. As it was
impossible, on account of the lack of space, to give extended sketches of all who ought to be noticed in this volume, and in some cases,
also, the requisite materials for such sketches could not be procured,
briefer notices have been prepared of certain groups, which, it is
believed, will be no unacceptable addition to the more elaborate
chapters.
This work aims to present in its literary department, as well as in
its engravings, an attractive series of accurate and life-like pictures.
As a literary production, containing the best essays and finest
thoughts of many of the first writers of the day, it must be a source
of profit and pleasure to every reader of critical taste. The eigravings, like the written sketches, are no creations of fancy, but trustworthy delineations of the features of tlihoe whom they profess to
represent.
The publishers have spared neither time nor expense, in the preparation of the present work, and they confidently believe that the
importance of the field which it occupies, the ability and reputation
of its writers, the freshness and reliableness of its facts, and the excellence of its engravings and typography, will justify the praises
already bestowed upon its plan and execution by men and women of
discernment, and insure to it a wide-spread and lasting popularity.
HARTFORD, July 15, 1868.
vi 
TABLE OF CONTENTTS.
1. FLORENCE NTIGHTINGALE,. By JAMES PARTON,... ~
2. LYDIA MIARIA CHILD,... By T. W. IIIGGINSON,..
3. FANNY FERN,-MRS. PARTON,
By GRACE GREENWOOD,.,
4. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY,... By REV. E. B. IIUNTINGTON,
5. MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE,
By JAMES PARTON,...
6. EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH,
By JOHN S. C. ABBOTT,.
7. GRACE GREENWOOD,-MRS. LIPPINCOTT,
By JOSEPH B. LYMAN,..
8. ALICE AND PIIEBE CARY,. By HORACE GREELEY,...
9. MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI,  By T. W. HIGGINSON,..
10. GAIL IHMILATON,-MISS DODGE,
By FANNY FERN,....
11.ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING,
By EDWARD Y. HINCKS,. 
12. JENNY LIND GOLDSCItBHIIDT,  By JAMES PARTON,.....
OUR PIONEER EDUCATORS,,
By REV. E. B. HUNTINGTON,........ 272
13. Ms. EMMA WILLARD.            114. MRS MARIANNE P. DASCOMB.
PAGL
11
38
66
85
102
128
147
164
173
202
221
250 
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE.
15. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, By REV. E. P. PARKER,.. 296
16. MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON,
By THIEODORE TILTON,.. 332
THE WOMAN'S RIGHTS MOVEMENT AND ITS CHAMPIONS IN
THE UNITED STATES,
By ELIZABETH CADY STANTON,.... 362
17. SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE.
18. ABBY KELLEY.
19. MARY GREW.
20. ANNE GREENE PHILLIPS.
21. LUCRETIA MOTT.
22. CAROLINE M. SEVERANCE.
23. FRANCES D. GAGE.
31. VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND,
By JAMES PARTON,..... 405
EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE DRA]IA,
By WILLIAM WINTER,..........  439
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
EUPHROSYNE PAREPA ROSA.
ELLEN TREE,-MPRS. CHIARLES KEAN.
CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG.
KATE BATEM-IAN,-MRS. GEORGE CROWE.
IIELEN FAUCIT,-MRS. THEODORE MARTIN.
viii
24. AB13Y HUTCI-rINSO.,.
25. ANTOINETTE B-nowN.
26. Lucy STONE.
27. MRS. CAROLINIP, II. DALL.
28. MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS.
29. SusAN B. ANTHONY.
30. OLYXPI.& Bpowzi.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37. 
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
38. ANNA ELIZABETH DICKLITSON,
By MRs. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON, 479
WOMAN AS PHYSICIAN.
By REV. H. B. ELLIOT,.......            513
39. MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. I).
40. Miss ELIZABETH BLACKWELL, M. D.
41. Miss HARRIOT K. HUNT, Al. D.
42. MIRS. HANNAH E. LONGSHORE, M. D.
43. Miss ANN PRESTON, M. D.
44. CAMILLA URSO........   By MAiRY A. BETTS... 551
45. HARRIET G. HOSMER,... By REV. R. B. TIIURSTON,. 566
46. ROSA BONHEUR......  By PROF. JAMIES M. HIOPPIN,   599
47. MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE,
By MIRS. LUCIA GILBELRT CALHOUN, 621
ix 
9
I 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
BY JAMES PARTON.
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE is one of the fortunate of the earth.
Inheriting from nature a striking and beneficent talent, she
was able to cultivate that talent in circumstances the most
favorable that could be imagined, and, finally, to exercise it
on the grandest scale in the sight of all mankind. I Whatever
difficulties may have beset her path, they were placed in it
not by untoward fortune; they existed in the nature of her
work, or were inseparable fiom human life itself.  She has
had the happiness, also, of laboring in a purely disinterested
spirit, and has been able to do for love what money could
neither procure nor reward.
The felicity of both her names, Florence and Nigh7tingale,
has often been remarked; and it appears that she owes both
of them to accident.  Her father is William Edward Shore,
an Enlglish gentleman of an ancient and wealthy Sheffield
family, and her mother is a daughter of William Smith, who
was for many years a member of Parliament, where he was
particularly distinguised for his advocacy of the emancipation
of the slaves in the British possessions. In 1815, her father
inherited the estates of his grand-uncle, Peter Nig,hting,ale,
on the condition expressed in his uncle's will, of his assuming
the name of Nightingale.  It so happened that she first saw
11 
12     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the light while the family were residing at the beautiful city
of Florence, and to this fact she is indebted for her first
name.   The family consists of but four members, father,
mother, and the two daughters, Palthenope and Florence.
The- date of the birth of the younger sister, Florence, is
variously given in the slight accounts which have been pubi
lished of her life; but it was said in the public prints, at the
time when her name was on every tongue, that she was born
in the same year as Queen Victoria, which was 1819.
Her father is a well-informed and intelligent manl, and it
was under his guidance that she attained a considerable
proficiency in the Latin language and in mathemnatics, as
well as in the usual branches and accomplishments of female
education.  Early in life she was conversant with French,
German, and Italian; she became also a respectable performer
upon the piano; and she had that general acquaintance with
science, and that interest in objects of art, which usually
mark the intelligent mind.
Even as a little girl she was observed to have a particular
fondness for nursing the sick.   She  had the true nlurse's
touch, and that ready sympathy with the afflicted which
enables those who possess it to divine their wants before
they are expressed.   In Eng,land, as in most other densely
peopled countries, poverty and disease abound on every side,
in painful contrast to the elegance and abundance by which
persons of the rank of Miss Nightin,gale are surrounded.
One consequence of this is, that the daughters of affluence,
unless they are remarkably devoid of good feeling, employ
part of their leisure in visiting the cottages of the poor, and
niinistering to the wants of the infirm and the sick.  It was
thus that Florence Ni,,ghtingale began her voluntary apprenticeship to the noble art of mitigating human anguish.  Not
content with paying the usual round of visits to the cottages
near her faither's estate,  and giving,, here a little soup, and 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
there a flannel petticoat, and at another place a poor man's
plaster, she seriously studied the art of nursing, visited hospitals in the neighborhliood, and read with the utmost eagerness whatever she could find in her father's library relating to
the treatment of disease, and the management of asylums.
This was no romantic fancy of her youth.  Miss Ni,ghtingale is a truly intelligent and gifted woman,- as far as possible removed from the cast of character which is at once
described andl stigmatized by the word romantic.  She earnestly desired to know the best mannier of mitigating the sufferings of the sick, the wounded, and the infirm; and she
studied this beautiful science as a man studies that which he
truly and ardently wishes to understand.
As it is the custom of wealthy families in England to spend
part of every year in London, Miss Nightingale was enabled
to extend the sphere of her observation to the numberless
hospitals and asylums of that metropolis.  These institutions
are on the grandest scale, and were liberally endowed by
the generosity of former ages; but at that time many of
them abounded in abuses and defects of every description.
Everywhere she saw the need of better nurses, women trained
and educated to their work.  Excellent surgeons were to be
found in most of them; but in many instances the admirable
skill of the surgeon was balked and frustrated by the blundclerin(g ignorance or the obstinate conceit of the  nurse.
Those who observed this elergant youing lady moving softly
about the wards of the hospitals, little imagined, perhaps,
that from her was to come the reform of those institutions.
Miss Nighhtilgale may almost be said to have created the
art of which she is the most illustrious teacher; but she
was yet far from having perfected herself; many  years
were still to elapse before she was prepared to speak with the
authority of a master.  Mrs. Gamp still flourished for a while,
although her days were numbered.
13 
14     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
It must not be supposed that this noble-minded lady denied herself the pleasures proper to her age, sex, and rank.
She enjoyed society and the pleasures of society, both in the
country and in town. Without being strictly beautiful,
her face was singularly pleasing in its expression, and she
had a slight, trim, and graceful figure. Her circle of friends
and acquaintances was large, and among them she was always
welcome; but, like. most properly constituted persons of our
Saxon blood, the happiest spot to her on earth was her own
home.  The family connection of the Nightingales in Englalnd
is num.erous, and she had friends enough for all the purposes
of life among her ownl relations.
About 1845, in company with her parents and sister, she
made an extensive tour in Germany, France, and Italy, visiting everywhere the hospitals, infirmaries, and asylums, and
watching closely the modes of treatment practised in them.
The family continued their journey into Egypt, where they
resided for a considerable time, and where the gifts of Miss
Nightingale in nursing the sick were, for the first time, called
into requisition beyond the circle of her own family and dependants.  Several sick Arabs, it is said, were healed by her
during this journey, which extended as far as the farthest
cataracts of the Nile.  Her tour was of eminent use to her in
many ways. It increased her familiarity with the languages
of Europe, and gave her a certain knowledge of the world
and of men, as well as of her art, which she turned to such
admirable account a few years later.  Returning to Engl-.nd,
she resumed her ordinary life as the dauTghter of a country
gentleman; but not for a long time.
Miss Nightingale, born into the Church of England, was
then, and has ever since remained, a devoted memnber of it.
In her religion, however, there is nlothing bigoted nor excessive; she is one of those who manifest it chiefly by chleerfilness, charity, and good-living; nor does her attachment to 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
her own church blind her to the excellences of others. In
her travels upon the continent of Europe, she had often met
the Sisters of Charity, and members of other Catholic Orders,
serving in the hospitals and asylums, and serving, too, with
a fidelity, constancy, and skill, which excited in her the
highest admiration and the profoundest respect. It was a
favorite dream of her youth, that, perhaps, there might one
day be among Protestants some kind of Order of Nurses,
a band of women devoted, for a time, or for life, to the holy
and arduous work of alleviating the anguish of the sick-bed.
About the year 1848, she heard that there was something of
the kind in Germany, under the charge of a benevolent lady
and a venerable Lutheran pastor.  She hastened to enter this
school of nurses, and spent six months there, acquiring valuable details of her art.   In the'hospital attached to it she
served as one of the regular corps of nurses, among whomn
she was greatly distinguished for her skill and thoroughness.
Upon her return to England, an opportunity was speedily
furnished her for exercising her improved skill.
A very numerous class in England are family governesses.
English people are not so well aware, as we are, how much
better it is for children to go to a good school thaito pursue
their education at home, even under the most skilful private
teacher.  Consequently, almost every family in liberal circumstances has a resident governess, an unhappy being, who
suffers many of the inconveniences attached to the lot of a
servant, without enjoying the solid advantages which ought
to accompany servitude. Upon salaries of twenty or thirty
pounds a year, many of these ladies are required to make a
presentable appearance, and associate, upon a sort of equality, with persons possessing a hundred times their revenue.
Unable to save anything for their declining, years, nothing
can be conceived more pitiable than the situation of a friendless English governess whom age or infirmities have deprived
15 
16    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
of employment and of home. For the benefit of such, an
asylum was established in London several years ago, which,
however, had but a feeble life and limited means.  Miss
Nightingale, on her return from Germany, was informed that
the institution was on the point of being given up, owing to
its improper management and the slenderness of its endowment. Her aid was sought by the friends of the asylum.
She accepted the laborious lost of its superintendent, and
she left her beautiful abode in the country, and took up her
residence in the establishment in London, to which she gave
both her services and a large part of her income.  For many
months she was  seldom seen at the entertainments, public
and private, which she was formerly in the habit of enjoying;
for she was in her place by the bedside of sick, infirm, or
dying inmnates of the governesses' hospital.   She restored
order to its finances; she increased the number of its friends;
she improved the arrangements of the interior; and when her
health gave way under the excessive labors of her position,
and she was compelled to retire to the country, she had the
satisfaction of leaving the institution firmly established and
well regulated.
But the time was at hand when her talents were to be employed upon a grander scale, and when her country was to
reap the full result of her study and observation.  The war
with Russia occurred. In February and March, 1854, shiploads of troops were leaving England for the seat of war,
and the heart of Enland went with them.
Iu all the melancholy history of warlike expeditions, there
is no record of one which was manag(ed with such cruel inefficiency as this.  Everything like foresight, the adaptation
of means to ends, knowledge of the climate, knowledge of
the human constitution, seemed utterly wanting, in those who
had charge of sending these twenty-five thousand British
troops to the shores of the Black Sea. The first rendezvous 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
was at Malta, an island within easy reach of many of the
most productive parts of two continents; but even there
privation and trouble began. One reg,iment would find itself destitute of fuel, but overwhelmed with candles.  In one
part of the island there was a superfluity of meat, and no
biscuit; while, elsewhere, there was an abundant supply of
food for men, but none for horses. It afterwards appeared
that no one had received anything like exact or timely information, either as to the number of troops expected to land
upon the island,  or as to the time when they would arrive.
A curious example of the iron rigidity of routine in the
British service was this: In the old wars it took eight weeks
for a transport to sail from England to Malta; but although
these troops were all conveyed in steamners, every steamer
carried the old allowance of eight weeks' supply of medicines
and wines. The chief physician of the force had been forty
years in service, and the whole machinery of war worked
stiffly from long inaction.
When the troops reached Gallipoli, on the coast of the
Sea of Marmora, their sufferings really began. No one had
thought to provide interpreters; there were neither carts nor
dratight animals; so that it frequently happened that a regiment would be on shore several days without having any
meat. It does not appear to have occurred to any one that
men could ever suffer from cold in a latitude so much more
southern than that of England.  The climate of that region
is, in fact, very similar to that of New York or Philadelphia.
There are the same intense heats in summer, the same occasional deep snows, excessive cold, and fierce, freezing rains
of winter; -one of those climates which possess many of the
inconveniences both of the torrid and the frigid zones, and
demand a systematic provision against both. In the middle of
April, at Gallipoli, the men began to suffer much from cold.
Many of them had no beds, and not a soldier in the army
2
17 
18     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
had more than the one regulation blanket.  Instead of undressing, to go to bed, they put on all the clothes they had,
and wrapped themselves in anything they could find.  There
was a small supply of blankets, but there was no one at hand
who was authorized to serve them out, and it was thought a
wonderful degree of courage in a senior staff-surgeon when
he actually took the responsibility of appropriating some of
these blankets for the use of the sick in the temporary hospital. The very honesty of the English stood in their way.
These French Zouaves," wrote Dr. Russell, the celebrated
correspondent of the London Times, "are first-rate foragers.
You may see them in all directions laden with eggs, meat,
fish, vegetables (onions), and other good things, while our
fellows can get nothing.  Sometimes, our servant is sent out
to cater for breakfast or dinner; he returns with the usual
' Ie and the Colonel's servant has been all over the town, and
can get nothing but eggs and onions, sir;' and lo! round the
corner appears a red-breeched( Zonave or Chasseur, a bottle
of wine under his left arm, half a lamb under the other, and
poultry, fish, and other luxuries dangling round him.   I'm
sure, I don't know how these French manages it, sir,' says
,the crestfallen Mercury, and retires to cook the egs."
Some of the general officers, instead of directing their
energies to remedying this state of things, appear to have
been chiefly concerned in compelling men to shave every day,
and to wear their leathern stocks on parade. One of the
generals, it is said, hated hair on the heads and faces of soldiers with a kind of mania.  " Where there is much hair,"
-said he, "there is dirt, and where there is dirt there will be
disease;" forgetting that hair was placed upon the human
head and face to protect it against winds and weather such
as these soldiers were experiencing.  It was not until tho
army had been ten weeks in the field, and were exposed to
the blazing heat of summer', that the Quecen's own  guards 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
were permitted to leave off those terrible stocks, and they
celebrated the joyful event by three as thundering cheers as
ever issued from the emancipated throats of men. After six
months' service, the great boon was granted of permitting the
men to wear a mustache, but not a beard.  It was not until
almost all order was lost and stamped out of silght in the
mire and snow of the following winter, that the general in
command allowed his troops to enjoy the protection of the
full beard. Nor were the private habits of the nmen con ducive to the preservation of their health.  Twenty soldiers
of one regiment were in the guard-house on the same day for
drunkenness, at Gallipoli.  As late as the middle of April
there was still a lamentable scarcity of everything required
for the hospital.  "There were no blankets for the sick,"
wrote Dr. Russell, " no beds, no mattresses, no medical comforts of any kind; and the invalid soldiers had to lie for
several days on the bare boards, in a wooden house, with
nothing but a single blanket as bed and covering."
Every time the army moved it seemed to get into worse
quarters, and to be more  wanting in necessary supplies.
the camp at Aladyn, where the army was posted at the end
of June, was a melancholy example of this truth.  The camp
was ten miles from the sea, in the midst of a country utterly
deserted, and the only communication between the camp and
the post was furnished by heavy carts, drawn by )buffloes, at
the rate of a mile and a half an hour; and by this kind of transportationl an army of twenty-five thousand men, and thirteen
thousand horses, had to be fed. The scene can be imaginied, as
well as the results upon the comfort and health of the troops.
In July the cholera broke out, and carried off officers and
men of both armies in considerable numbers.  Jelly the 24tllh,
it suddenly appeared in the camp of the light divisionl, and
twenty men died in twenty-four hours.  A siergeant attacked
at seien, A. m., was dead  at noon.  What  was, at once,
19 
20    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
remarkable and terrible in this disease, it was often quite
painless. And yet, in the midst of all this horror and death,
the soldiers of both armies exhibited a wonderfill recklessness.  " You find thenm," wrote Dr. Russell, " lyin drunk in
the kennels, or in the ditches by the roadsides, under the
blazing rays of the sun, covered with swarms of flies.  You
see them in stupid sobriety, gravely paring the rind off
cucumbers of portentous dimensions, and eating the deadly
cylinders one after another, to the number of six or eight,all the while sitting ill groups, in the open streets; or, fiequently, three or four of them will make  a happy l)argaii
with a Greek, for a large basketful of apricots, water-melons,
wooden pears, and green gages, and then they retire beneath
the shades of a tree, where they divide and eat the luscious
food till nought remains but a heap of peels, rind, anr(
stones.  They dilute the mass of fruit with peach brandy,
and then straggle home, or go to sleep as best they can."
Think of the military discipline which could compel  the
wearing, of stocks, forbid the growth of a beard, and permit
such heedless suicide as this, of men appointed to maintain
the honor of their country's flag on foreign soil! Howv incredible it would be, if we had not ab)undant proof of the
fact, that, at this very time, a lieutenant-general issued an
order directing cavalry officers to lay int a stock of yelloto
ochre and oipe clay, for the use of the men in rubbing up
their uniforms and accoutrements I
On  the  13th of September, 1854, twenty-seven thousand British troops were landed  upon the shores of the
Crimea, and marched six miles into the country. There was
not so much as a tree for shelter on that bleak and destitute
coast.  The French troops who landed on the same day had
small shelter tents with them; but in all the English host
there was but one tent. Towards night the wind rose, and
it began to rain.  At midnight, the rain fell in torrents, and
..,... _...... 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
continued to do so all the rest of the night, penetrating the
blankets and overcoats of the troops, and beatingl pitilessly
down upon the aged generals, the young dandies, the steadygoing gentlemen, as well as upon the private soldiers of the
English army, who slept in puddles, ditches, and vwatercourses, without fire, without grog, and without any certain
prospect of breakfast. One general slept tinder a cart, and
the Duke of Cambridge himself was no better accommodated.
This was but the begiinning of misery.   On the following
day, signals were made on the admiral's ship for all the
vessels of the great fleet to send their sick men on board the
Kangaroo.  Thoughtless order!  In the course of the day,
this vessel was surrounded by hundreds of boats filled with
sick soldiers and sailors, and it was soon crowded to sufft)cation.  Before night closed in, there were  fifteen hundred
sick on board of her, and the scene was so full of horror that
the details were deemed unfit for publication.  The desi,gn
was that these sick men should be conveyed on the IKan,garoo
to the neighborhood of Constantinople,  to be placed in
hospital.  But when she had been orammed with her miserable freight, she was ascertained to be uiseaworthy, and all
the fifteen hundred had to be transferred to other vessels.
Many deaths occurred during the process of removal.   On
the same day men were dying on the beach, and did actually
die, without any medical assistance whatever.  WVhen the
hospital was about to be established at Balaklava, some days
after, sick men were sent thither before the slightest preparation for them had beenl made, and many of them remained
in the open street for several hours in the rain.
Winter came on, - such a winter as we are accustomed to
in and near the city of New York.   It began with that
terrible hurricane, which many doubtless remember reading
of at the time. The whole army were still living in tents.
lo adequate preparation had been made, of any kind, for
21 
22     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
protecting the troops against such snows, and cold, and rain,
as they were certain to experience. This hurricaue broke
upon the camp early in the morning of November the fourteenth, an hour before daylight, the wind bringing with it
torrents of rain. The air was filled with blankets, coats,
hats, jackets, quilts, bedclothes, tents, and even with tables
and chairs.  Wtagons and ambulances were overturned by
the force of the wind. Almost every tent was laid prostrate.
The cavalry horses, terrified at the noise, broke loose, and
the whole country, as far as the eye could reach, was covered
with galloping, horses.  During the day the storm continued
to rage, while not a fire could be lighted, nor any beginning
made of repairing the damage.  Towards night it began to
snow, and a driving storm of snow and sleet tormented the
army during the night. This storm proved more deadly on
sea than on shore, and many a ship, stored with warm
clothing, of which these troops were in perishing need, went
to the bottom of the Black Sea.
A few days after, Doctor Russell wrote: "It is now pouring rain,- the skies are black as ink,-  the wind is howling
over the staggering tents, -the trenches are turned into
dykes,- in the tents the water is sometimes a foot deep,our men have not either warm or water-proof clothing,
- they are out for twelve hours at a time in the trenches, -
they are plunged into the inevitable miseries of a winter
campaign, -  and not a soul seems to care for their comfort,
or even for their lives.   These are hard truths, but  the
people of En,gland must hear them. They must know that
the wretched beggar, who wanders about the streets of London in the rain, leads the life of a prince compared with the
British soldiers who are fighting out here for their country,
and who, we are complacently assured by the home authorities, are the best appointed army in Europe.  They are well
fed, indeed, but they have no shelter, no rest, and no defence 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
ag,ainst the weather.  The tents, so lolng exposed to the blaze
of a Bulgarian sun, and now continually drenched by tor'rents
of rain, let the wet through'like sieves,' and are perfectly
useless as protections against the weather."
Never was there such mismanagcemcnt.   While the army
were in this condition they suddenly found themselves reduced
to a short allowance of food, and for nine days there was no
tea or coffee. The reason was, that the country roads, by
which the provisions were brought from the seaside, seven
miles distant, had become almost impassable.  Every one
could have foreseen that this would be the case during, the
rainy season.   Every one could also see that the whole
country was covered with small stones, just fit for making,
good roads; but nothing was done, and, for many miserable
weeks, it was all that the commissary officers could do to
keep the army alive. As for the port itself, - Balaklava,it was such a scene of filth and horror as the earth has seldom
exhibited. Indeed, it was said, at the time, that all the
pictures ever drawn of plague and pestilence, whether in
works of fact or of fiction, fell far short of the scenes of
disease and death which abounded in this place.   In the
hospitals the dead lay side by side with the living, and both
were objects appalling to look upon.  There was not the
least attention paid to cleanliness or decency, and men died
witlmut the least effort being made to save or help them.
"There they lie," records a writer, "just as they were let
gently down on the ground by their comrades, who brought
them on their backs from the camp with the greatest tenderness, but who are not allowed to remain with them. The
sick appear to be tended by the sick, and the dying by the
dying."   The four-footed creatures suffered not less than
their masters.  "Two hundred of your horses have died,"
said a Turk one morning to a British officer.  "Behold! what
I have said is the truth;" and, as he said these words, he
23 
24    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE
emptied a sack upon the floor, and there were four hundred
horses' ears heaped up before the eyes of the wondering
officer.
Ill Janualy deep snows came to aggravate all this ulisery.
At one time there were three feet of snow upon the grounid.
On the 8th of January, 1855, one regiment could only
muster seven men fit for duty; another had thirty; a freshly
landed company was reduced from fifty-six to fourteen in a
few days; and a regimenlt of Guards, which had had in all
fifteen hundred and sixty-two men, could muster but two
hundred and ten.  What wonder!  On that same ei,ghth day
of January some of Queen Victoria's own IHousehold Guards
were walking about in the snow, and going into action at
night, without soles to their shoes!  Many men were frozen
stiff in their tents; and as late as January the 19th, when
there were drifts of snow six feet deep, sick men  were
lying in wet tents with only one blanket!  No one, therefore,
will be surprised at the statement that on the 10th of February, out of a total of 44,948 British troops, 18,177 were
in hospital.
The word hospital, when used ill reference to the Crimean
war, only conjures up scenes of horror.  Two scenes, selected from many such, will stiffice to convey to the reader a
vivid idea of the hospitals of the Crimea before an Angel
went  from England to reform them.   Janutary the 25th
the surgeon of a ship, appointed to convey the sick to the
general hospital at Scutari, went on shore at Balaklava and
applied to an officer in charge of stores for two or three stoves
to put on board his ship to warm the sick and dying troops.
Three of my men," said he, "died last night from choleraic
symptoms brought on by the extreme cold of the ship, and
I fear more will follow them from the same cause."  " Oh,"
said the storekeeper, "you must make your requisition in
due form, send it up to head-quarters, and get it signed prop 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
erly, and returned, and then I will let you have the stovfs."
'But my men may die meantime."   "I can't help that; I
must have the requisition." "It is my firm belief that there
are men now in a dangerous state whom another night will
certainly kill."  "I really can do nothing; I must have  a
requisition properly signed before I can give one of those
stoves away."  "For God's sake, then, lend me some; I'll
be responsible for their safety."  "I really can do nothing of
the kind."  "But, consider, this requisition will take time to
be filled up and signed, and meantime these poor fellows will -
go." "I cannot help that."  "I'll be responsil)le for any
thing you do."  "Oh, no, that can't be done."  " Will a requisition signed by the post medical officer of this place be
of any use?"    No."   " Will it answer if he takes on himself the responsibility?"   "Certainly not."  The  surgeon
went off in sorrow and disgust, knowing well that brave men
were doomed to death by the obstinacy of this kleeper of her
~ lI,tjesty's stores.
Another  fact:   In the middle of this terrible winter
there was a period of three weeks when the hospitals nearest
the main body of the army were totally destitute of medi cines for the three most frequent diseases of an army in win ter quarters; namely, fever, rheumatism, and diarrhea.  The
most agonizing, circumstance was, that the government had
provided everythiing in superabundance.  But one hospital
would have a prodigious superfluity of fuel, and no mattresses.
Another would have tons of pork, and no rice. Another
would have plenty of the materials for making soup, but no
vessels to make it in.  Here, there would be an abundance
of coffee, but no means of roasting it; and, there, a hundred
chests of tea, and not a pound of sugar to put in it.  Again,
there would be a house filll of some needed article, and no
officer within miles who had authority to serve it out. The
surgeons did their best; but what could the few surgeons of
25 
26    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
fift.3regiments do with twenty thousand sick men?  As for
nurses, there was hardly a creature worthy of the name  in
the Crimea.  In view of such facts as these no one can be
surprised that the great hospitals at Scutari were in such a
condition, that, probably, they were the direct means of kill ing tell men for every one whom they saved from death. It
had perhaps been better if the poor fellows had been wrapped
in blankets and laid upon a sheet of India-rubbl)er on the
Snow in the open air, fed now and then, and left to take their
chance.
England heard of all this with amazement and consterna tion. It was the "Times" newspaper through which it learned
the details, and people began spontaneously to send sums of
money to the editqr of that journal for the relief of the soldiers.  The proprietors of the "Times" consented, at length,
to receive and appropriate money for this object, and in thirteen days the sum of fifteen thousand pounds sterling was
sent in.  With this money thousands of shirts, sheets, stockings, overcoats, flannels, and tons of sugar, soap, arrow-root,
and tea, and great quantities of wine and brandy, were purchased, and a commissioner was sent out to superintend their
distribution. But the great horror was, the neglect of the
sick in the hospitals, and a cry arose for a corps of skilful,
educated nurses.
There was but one woman in England fitted by character,
position, and education, to head such a band. Sidney Herbert, a member of the British cabinet, was an old friend
of Florence Nightingale's father.   Mr. Herbert was thus
acquainted with the peculiar bent of Miss Nightingale's disposition, and the nature of her trainring.  By a curious coincideuce, and yet not an unnatural one, she wrote to him offering
her services, and he wrote to her asking her aid, on the same
day. Other ladies of birth and fortune volunteered to accompany her, to whomn were added some superior professional 
FLORENCE NIGHTIiGALE.
nurses.   October the  24th, 1854, Florence Nightingale,
accompanied by a clerical firiend and his wife, and by a corps
of thirty-seven nurses, left England for the Crimea, followed
by the benedictions of millions of their countrymen.
They travelled through France to MIarseilles.  On their
journey the ladies were treated with more than the usual
politeness of Frenchmen; the inn-keepers and even the servants would not take payment for their accommodation, and
all ranks of people appeared to be in most cordial sympathy
with their mission.  Among, other compliments paid M1iss
Nightingale by the press, one of the newspapers informed the
public that her dress was charming, and that she was almost
as graceful as the ladies of Paris.
From Marseilles they were conveyed in a steamer to Scutari, where the principal hospitals were placed, which they
reached on the 5th of November. In all the town, crowded
with misery in every form, there were but five unoccupied
rooms, which had been reserved for wounded otffitcers of high
rank; these were assigned to the nurses, and they at once
entered upon the performance of their duty. They came
none too soon.  In a few hours wounded men in great numbers began to be brought in from the action of Balaklava,
and, ere long,, thousands more arrived from the bloody field
of Inkermaun.  Fortunately, the "Times" commissioner was
present to supply Miss NightingDale's first demands.  Some
days elapsed, however, before men ceased to die for want of
stores, which had been supplied, which were present in the
town, but which could not be obtained at the place and moment
required. One of the nurses reported that, during the first
night of her attendance, eleven men died before her eyes,
whom a little wine or arrow-root would almost certainly have
saved.
Miss Nightingale at once comprehended that it was no time
to stand upon trifles.  On the second day after her arrival
27 
28      EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
six hundred wounded men were brought in, and the number
increased until there were three thousand patients under her
immediate charge.  Miss Nightingale, one of the gentlest and
tenderest of women, surveyed the scene of confilsion and ('an guish with unruffled mind, and issued her orders with the
calmness that comes of certain knowledge of what is best to
be done. If red tape interposed, she quietly cut it. If there
was no one near who was authorized to unlock a storehouse,
she took a few Turks with her, and stood by while they broke
it open.  During the first week her labors were arduous be yond what would have been thought possible for any one;
she was klnown to stand for twenty hours directing the labors
of men and women.  Yet, however fatigued she might be,
her manner was always serene, and she had a smile or a compassionate word for the suffering as she passed them by.
As soon as the first needs of the men were supplied, she
established a washing-house, which she found time herself to
superintend. Before that was done, there had been a washing contract in existence, the conditions of which were so
totally neglected by the contractor, that the linen of the whole
hospital was foul and rotten.   She established  a kitchen,
which she also managed to inspect, in which hundreds of
gallons of beef-tea, and other liquid food, were prepared every
day.  She knew precisely how all these things should be
done; she was acquainted with the best apparatus for doing
them; and she was thus enabled, out of the rough material
around her,-that is to say, out of boards, camp-kettles,
camp-stores, and blundering Turks, - to create laundries and
kitchens, which answered the purpose well, until better could
be provided.  She also well understood the art of husbanding
skilful labor. When a few nurses could be spared from the
wards of the hospital, she set them to preparing padding for
amputated limbs, an(l other surgical appliances; so that when
a thousand wounded suddenly arrived from the battle-field, 
FLORENCE NIGIITINGALE.
men no longer perished for the want of some trifling buit indispensable article, which foresight could have provided.
The "Times" commissioner wrote: "She is a ministerimg angel in these hospitals; and, as her slender form glidcs
quietly along each corridor, every poor fellow's face softens
with gratitude at the sight of her.  When all the  medical
officers have retired for the night, and silence and darlikness
have settled down upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may
be observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making her
solitary rounds."
What a picture is this!
The same writer  continues: "The popular instinct was
not mistaken which, when she set out fiom England on her
mission of mercy, hailed her as a heroine. I trust that she
may not earn her title to a higher though sadder appellation.
No one who has observed her fragile fitgure and delicate
health can avoid misgivings lest these should fail.  With the
heart of a true woman, and the manners of a lady, accomplished and refined beyond most of her sex, she combines a
surprising calmness of judgment, and promptitudc, and decision of character."
Incredible as it now seems, the arrival of these ladies was
far from being welcomed either by the medical or military
officers, and it required all the firmness and tact of a Florence
Nightingale to overcome the obstacles which were placed or
left in her way.  Several weeks passed before the hospital
authorities cordially co-operated with her. Still more inceredible is it, that some cruel bigots in England severely criticised
her conduct in accepting the services of some of the Sisters
of Charity from Dublin.  There was much discussion as to
whether she was herself a Catholic or a Protestant; which led
a witty clergyman to remark:" She belongs to a sect which
unfortunately is a very rare one, - the sect of the Good Samaritans." One of the chaplains who labored with her, added,
29 
30    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
with reference to another charg,e equally heartless and absurd:
If there is any blame in looking for a Romnan Catholic priest
to attend a dying, Catholic, - let me share it with her, for
I did it again and again."
The same excellent and liberal-minded chaplain, the Rev.
S. G. Osborne, in his work on the Hospitals of Scutari,
describes, ill the most interesting manner, the appearance
and demeanor of Miss Nightingale. " In appearance," he says,
e she is just what you would expect in any other well-bred
woman who may have seen, perhaps, rather more than thirty
years of life; her manner and countenance are prepossessing,
and this without the possession of positive beauty; it is.t face
not easily forgotten, pleasing in its smile, with an eye betoklenilng great self-possession, and giving, when she pleases,
a quiet look of firm determination to every feature.  fIecr
general demeanor is quiet and rather reserved; still, I am
much mistaken if she is not gifted with a very lively sense
of the ridiculous.  In conversation, she speaks on matters
of business with a grave earnestness one would not expect
from her appearance.  She has evidently a mind disciplined
to restrain, under the pressure of the action of the moment,
every feeling which would interfere with it. She has trained
herself to command, and learned the value of conciliation
towards others and constraint over herself.  I can conceive
her to be a strict disciplinarian; she throws herself into a
work as its head,- as such she knows well how much success must depend upon literal obedience to her every order.
She seems to understand business thoroughly.  Icr nierve is
wonderful! I have been with her at very severe operations:
she was more than equal to the trial.  She has an utter disregardcl of contagion.  I have known her spend hours over men
dying of cholera or fever.  The more awfil to every sense
any plarticular case, especially if it was that of a dyilg man,
her slight form would be seen bending over him, administer 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
ing to his ease in every way in her power, and seldom quitting his side till death released him."
What wonder that the troops idolized her!  One of the
soldiers said: "She would speak to one and to another,
and nod and smile to as many more; but she couldn't do it
to all, you know; we lay there by hundreds; but we could
kiss her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on the pillow
again content."  Another soldier said: "Before she came,
there was such cussin' and swearin'; and after that it was as
holy as a church."
All through that winter she toiled at her post, and all
through the spring until the middle of May.  Then she was
taken down with the camp fever, and for four or five days
her condition excited much alarm. She passed the crisis, however, and the whole army was soon rejoiced by hearing that
she was convalescent.  In her little book, publ)ished since
her return home, upon nursing, there are but two allusions
to her services in the Crimea.  One is, that she had seen
death in more forms than any other woman in Europe.   The
other is a touching reference to this convalescence. Speaking
of the delight which the sick take in flowers, she says "I
have seen in fevers (and felt when I was a fever patient myself) the most acute suffering produced, from the patient (in
a huit) not being able to see out of window, asd the knots
in the wood being the only view.  I shall never forget iho
rapture of  fever patients over a bunch of bri,ght-colored
flowers.  I remember (in my own case) a nlosegay of wild
flowers beiru, sent me, and from that moment recovery ble coming more rapid."
By this time, excursionists and yachtsmen bergau to arrive
at the Crimea, one of whom lent her a yacht, the use of
which much aided her recovery.  WVhen she first sailed in it,
she had to be carried to the vessel in the arms of men.
She remained in the Crimea a year anld ten months, and
31 
32     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
reached home again in safety, but an invalid for life, on the
8th of September, 1856.  All England felt that sonmething
must be dlone to markl the national gratitude, and perpetuate
the memory of it forever.   Fifty thousand pounds  were
raised, almost without an effort, and it was concluded at
leng,th, to employ this fund in enabling Miss Nightingd.lc to
establish an institution for the training of nurses.  She sanetioned and accepted this trLust, and has been chiefly eml)loyed
ever since in labors connected with it. The Sultan of Turkey
sent her a magnificent bracelet.  The Queen of England gave
her a cross beautifully formed, and blazing with gems.  The
queen invited her also to visit her iii her retreat at Balmoral,
and Miss Nightingale spent some days there, receiving the
homage of the royal fiamily.
Not the least service which this noble lady has rendered
the suffering sons of men has been the publication of the
work just referred to, entitled "Notes on Nursing; what it
is, and what it is not,"- one of the very few little books of
which it can be truly said that a copy ought to be ill every
house.  In this work she gives the world, in a lively, vigorous
manner, the substance of all that knowledge  of nlursing,,
which she has so laboriously acquired. I1er directions are
admirably simple, and still more  admirably wise.   "The
chief duty of a nurse," she says, "is simply this: to keep the
air wvhich the patient breathes as pure as the external air, but
withozt chilling him."  This, she insists, is the main point,
and is so important that if you attend properly to that you
may leave almost all the rest to nature. She dwells most
forcibly upon the absolute necessity, and wonderfully curative
power, of perfect cleanliness and bri,ght light.   I1er little
chapter upon Noise in the Sick Room, in which she shovs
how necessary it is for a patient never to be startled, disturbed, or fidgeted, is most admirable and affecting.   She
seems to have entered into the very soul of sick people, and 
PLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
to have as lively a sense of how they feel, what they like,
what gives them pain, what hinders or retards their recovery,
as thoiugh she were herself the wretch whose case she is
describing.   If she had done nothing else in her life but
produce this wise, kind, and pointed little work, she would
deserve the gratitude of suffering man.
The  book,  too, although remarkably free from direct
allusions to herself, contains much  biogrgphical material.
We see the woman on every page, - the woman who takes
nothing for granted, whom sophistry cannot deceive, who
looks at things with her own honest eyes, reflects upon them
with her own fearless mind, and speaks of them in good,
downright, Nighltingale English.   She ever returns to her
grand, fundamental position, the curative power of firesh,
pure air.  Disease, she remarks, is not an evil, but a blessing;
it is a reparative process,- an effort of nature to get rid of
something hostile to life.  That being the case, it is of the
first importance to remove what she considers the chief cause
of disease, -the inhaling of poisonous air. She laughs to
scorn the impious cant, so often employed to console bereaved parents, that the death of children is a "mysterious
dispensation of Providence." No such thing. Children
perish, she tells us, because they are packed into unventilated
school-rooms, and sleep at night in univentilated dormitories.
"An extraordinary fallacy," she says, "is the dread of
night air.  What air can we breathe at night but night air?
The choice is between pure night air from without and foul
nig,ht air from within.  Most people prefer the latter.  An
unaccountable choice!  An open window, most nights in the
year, can never hurt any one."  Better, she rieiarkls, shut
the windows all day than all night.   She maintains, too,
that the reason why people now-a-days, especially ladies, are
less robust than they were formerly, is because they pass the
3
33 
34    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
greater part of their lives in breathing poison.  Upon this
point she expresses herself with great force: -
"The houses of the grandmothers and great grandmothers
of this generation (at least, the country houses), with front
door and back door always standing, open, winter and summer, and a thorough draft always blowing through,-with
all the scrubbing, and cleaningi, and polishing, and scou'lrig,
which used to go on, -the grandmothers, and, still more,
the great-granldmothers, always out of doors, and never with
a bonnet on except to go to church; these things entirely
account for a fact so often seen of a great-grandmother who
was a tower of physical vigor, descendling into a grandmother,
perhaps a little less vigorous, but still sound as a bell, and
healthy to the core, into a mother languid and confined to
her carriage and her house, and lastly into a daulghter sickly
and confined to her bed.  For, remember, even with a
general decrease of mortality, you may often find a race thus
degenerating, and still oftener a family.  You may sec poor,
little, feeble, washed-out rags, children of a noble stock,
suffering, morally and phlysically, throughout their useless,
degenerate lives; and yet people who are going, to marry and
to bring more such into the world, will consult nothing but
their own convenience as to where they are to live or how
they are to live."
On the subject of contagion she has decided and important
opinions.  "I was brought up," she says, " both by scientific
men and ignorant women, distinctly to believe that small pox, for instance, was a thing of vwhich there was once a first
specimen in the world, which went on propa,gating itself in a
perpetual chain of descent, just as much as that there was a
first dog, (or a first pair of dogs), and that small-pox would
not bein itself any more than a new dog, would begin witlh out there having be(n a parent dog,.  Since then, I have seen
witlh my eyes, and smelt with my nose, srnall-pox growiny 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
tip infivst! specimens, either in close rooms or in overcrowded
war-s, where it could not by any possibility have been
caught, but nmust have begun!  Nay, more.  I have seen
diseases begin, grow up, and pass into one another.  Now,
dogs do not pass into cats. I have seen, for instance, with a
little overcrowding, continued fever grow up; and, with a
little more, typhoid fever; and, with a little more, typhus;
and all in the same ward or hut. Would it not be far better,
truer, and more practical, if we looked upon disease in this
light?"
Again," she says, addressing parents, "why must a child
have measles? If you believed in and observed the laws for
preserving the health of houses, which inculcate cleanliness,
ventilation, whitewashing, and other means (and which, by
the way, are laws) as imnplicitly as you believe in the popular
opinion (for it is nothing more than an opinion) that your
child must have children's epidemics, don't you think that,
upon the whole, your child would be more likely to escape
altogether?"
Mliss Nighting,ale is an enemy of crinoline, the wearing of
which she styles "an absurd and hideous custom." "The
dress of women," she adds, "is daily more and more unfitting
them for any mission or usefillness at all.  It is equally unfitted for all poetic and all domestic purposes. A man is
now a more handy and fair less objectionable being in a sickroom than a woman. Compelled by her dress, every woman
now either shuffles or waddles; only a man can cross the
floor of a sick-room without shaking it! What has become
of woman's light step, - the firm, light, quick step we have
been asking for?"
She has a very pleasing and suggestive passage upon the
kind of conversation which is most beneficial to the sick.
"A sick person," she observes, "does so enjoy hearing good
news; for instance, of a love and courtship while in progress
35 
36     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
to a good ending. If you tell him only when the marriage
takes place, he loses half the pleasure, which, God knows,
he has little enough of; and, ten to one, but you have told
him of some love-making with a bad ending. A sick person also
intensely enjoys hearing of any material good, any positive or
practical success of the right. He has so much of books and
fiction, of principles, and precepts, and theories! Do, instead
of advising him with advice he has heard at least fifty times
before, tell him of one benevolent act which has really succeeded practically; it is like a day's health to him.  You
have no idea what the craving of the sick, with undiminished
power of thinking, but little power of doing, is to hear of
good practical action, when they can no longer partake in it.
Do observe these things with the sick. Do remember how
their life is to them disappointed and incomplete. You see
them lying there with miserable disappointments, from which
they can have no escape but death, and you can't remember
to tell them of what would give them so much pleasure, or
at least an hour's variety.  They don't want you to be
lachrymose and whiniing with them; they like you  to be
fresh, and active, and interesting; but they cannot bear
absence of mind; and they are so tired of the acldvice and
preaching they receive from everybody, no matter whom  it
is, they see. There is no better society than babies and sick
people for one another.  Of course you must manage this so
that neither shall suffer from it, which is perfectly possible.
If you think the air of the sick-room bad for the baby, why
it is bad for the invalid, too, and therefore you will of courso
correct it for both.  It fieshens up the sick personl's whole
mental atmosphere to see'the baby.' And a very young
child, if unspoiled, will generally adapt itself wonderfully to
the ways of a sick person, if the time they spend together is
.not,too long."
These passages give us a more correct conception of the 
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.
mind and character of Florence Nightingale than any narrative of her life which has yet been given to the public.
There has been nothing of chance in her career.  She gained
her knowledge, as it is always  gained, by faithful and
laborious study, and she acquired  skill in applying her
knowledge by careful practice.
There can be no doubt that the example of Miss Nightingale had much to do in calling forth the exertions of
American women during our late war.  As soon as we had
wounded soldiers to heal, and military hospitals to serve, the
patriotic  and  benevolent  ladies of America  thought of
Florence Nightingale, and hastened to offer their assistance;
and, doubtless, it was the magic of her name which assisted
to open a way for them, and broke down the prejudices
which might have proved insurmountable.   When Florence
Nig,hting,ale overcame the silent opposition of ancient surgeonls
and obstinate old sergeants in the Crimea, she was also
smoothing the path of American women on the banlks of the
Potomac and the MAlississippi. Her name and example belong
to the race which she has honored; but to us, whom she
served in the crisis of our fate, and thus associated her name
with the benevolent and heroic ladies of our land, she will
ever be peculiarly dear.
37 
38    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
BY T. W. HIGGINSON.
To those of us who are by twenty years or more the juniors
of Mrs. Child, she presents herself rather as an object of love
than of cool criticism, even if we have rarely met her face
to face.  In our earliest recollections she comes before us
less as author or philanthropist than as some 1kindly and
omnipresent aunt, beloved forever by the heart of childhood,
-some one gifted with all lore, and furnished with unfathomable resources, - some one discoursing equal delight
to all members of the household. In those days she seemed
to supply a sufficient literature for any family through her
own  unaided pen.  Thence  came  novels for  the parlor,
cookery-books for the  kitchen, and  the " Juvenile MIiscellainy" for the nursery. In later years the intellectual provision still continued.  We learned, from her anti-slavery
writings, where to find our duties; from her "Letters from
New York," where to seek our purest pleasures; while her
"Progress of Religious Ideas " introduced us to those profounder truths on which pleasures and duties alike rest.  It
is needless to debate whether she has done the greatest or
most permanent work in any especial department of literature, she has done work so valuable in many. She has
shown memorable independence in repeatedly leaving beaten
paths to strike out for herself new literary directions, and
has combined the authorship of more than thirty books and 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
pamphlets with a singular devotion both to public and private
philanthropies, and with almost too exactilig a faithfulness to
the humblest domestic duties.  Sero in cc7umn.  May it be
long before her full and final eulogy is written; but meauwhile it would be wrong, to attempt even a sketch of her
career without letting sympathy and love retain a large share
in the service.
Lydia Maria Francis was born at Medford, Mass., February 11th, 1802. I1er ancestor, Richard Francis, came from
England in 1636, and settled in Cambridge, where his tombstone may still be seen in the  burial-ground.  Her paternal
grandfathlr, a weaver by trade, was in the Concord fi,ght,
and is said to have killed five of the enemy.  Her father,
Convers Francis, was a baker, first in West Cambrildge,
then in Medford, where he first introduced what  are still
called " MIedford crackers."  He was a man of strong character and great industry.  Though without much cultivation,
he had uncommon love of reading; and his anti-slavery convictions were peculiarly zealous, and must have influenced
his children's later career.  IHe married Susannah Rand, of
whom it is only recorded that "she had a simple, loving
heart, and a spirit busy in doing good."
They had six children, of whom  Lydia Maria was the
youngest, and Convers the next in age.  Convers Francis
was afterwards eminent among the most advanced thinkers
and slcholars of the Unitarian body,  at a time  wlhel  it
probably surpassed all other American denominations in the
intellectual culture of its clei'y.  He had less ideality than
his sister, less enthusiasm, and far less moral couragte; but
he surpassed most of his profession in all these traits.  tie
was Theodore Parker's first learned friend, and directed his
studies in preparation for the theological school.   Long
after, Alr. Parker used still to head certain pag,es of his
journal, "Questions  to  ask  Dr.  Francis."  The  modest
39 
40      EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"study" at Watertown was a fitvorite head-quarters of what
were called " the transcendentalists " of those days. Emerson,
iarg,aret Fuller, Ripley, and the rest came often thither, in
the days when thle " Dial" was just emancipating American
thlou,ght from old-world traditions.  Afterwards, when Dr.
Fra-icis was appointed to thle rather responsible and con servative post of professor in the Camblridcge  Theological
School, he still remained faithful to the spirit of those days,
never repressing free inquiry, but always rejoicing to encourage it.  Hle was a man of rare attatinmenits in a variety
of directions, andt though his great reading ga.lve a desulltory
habit to his mindil, and his thinkiing was not quite  in proportion to his receptive power, lie still was a most vatluable
instructor, as he was a most delightfil fi'iend.  In fite andcl
fi,gure he resembled the pictures of Martin Luther, and his
habits and ways always seemed to me like those of some
genial German professor.  With the  utmost  friugality in
other respects, he spent money almost profusely on books,
and his library - part of which he bequeathed to IHarvard
College -was to me the most attractive I have over seen, -
more so than even Theodore Parker's.  HIis sister had undoubtedlly the superior mind of the two; but he who influenced, others so much must have influenced her still more.
"A dear good sister has she been to me; would that I had
been half as good a brother to her!"  This he wrote, in selfdepreciation, long after.  While he was fitting for college,
a process which took but one year, she was his favorite companion, though more than six years younger.  They read
tog,ether, and she was constantly bringing him  Milton and
Shakespeare to explain. He sometimes mystified her,- as
brothers will, in dealing with maidens nine years old, -and
once told her that "the raven down of darkness," which was
made to smile, was but the fur of a black cat that sparkled
when stroked; though it still perplexed her sm'tll b"ain. 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
why fitr should be called dozwn.  This bit of levity fi'oiii tlhe
future Professor of Theology I find in the excellent s-etch
of Dr. Francis, by Rev. John WYeiss, his successor,-  a little
book which gives a good impression of the atmosphere in
which the brother and sister were reared.
Their earliest teacher was a maiden lady, named Elizabeth
Francis, -  but not a relative, -  and known universally as
" Ia'am Betty."  She is described as " a spinster of supernatural shyness, the never-forootten calamity of whose life was
that Dr. Brooks once saw her drinking water from the nose
of her tea-kettle."  She kept school in her bedroom; it was
never tidcly, and she chewed a great deal of tobacco; but the
children were fond of her, and always carried her a Sunday
dinner.  Such simple kindnesses went forth often from that
thrifty home.  Mrs. Child once told me that always, on the
night before Thanksgiving, all the humble friends of the
household, -   M'a'am Betty," the washerwoman, the berrywoman, the wood-sawyer, the journeymen-bakers, and so
on,- some twenty or thirty in all, were summoned to a pre liminary entertainment.  They there partook of an immenlse
chicken-pie, pumpkin-pies  (made in miilk-pans), and heaps
of doughnuts.  They feasted in the large old-fashioned kitch en, and went away loaded with crackers and bread by the
father, and with pies by the mother, not forg,etting "turn overs" for their children.   Such plain applications of the
doctrine "It is more blessed to give than to receive" may
have done more to mould the Lydia Maria Child of maturer
years than all the faithfIul labors of good Dr. Osgood, to
whom she and her brother used to repeat the Westminster
Assembly's Catechism once a month.
Apart from her brother's companionship the young girl
had, as usual, a very unequal share of educational opportu nities; attending only the public schools, with one year at
the private sem~uary of Miss Swan, in Medford. Her mother
41 
2    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
died ill 1814, after which the family removed for a time to
the State c.f Iaine.  Inl 1819, Convers Francis wa.s ordained
over the First Parish in AVatertown, and there occurred in
his study, in 1824, anl incident which was to determine the
whole life of his sister.
Dr. J. G. Palfrey had written in the "North American
Review" for April, 1821, a review of the now forg,otten poem
of "Yamoylden," in which he ably pointed out the use that
might be made of early American history for the purposes
of fictitious writing.  ialiss Francis read this article, at her
brother's house, one summer Sunday noon.  Before attending
the afternoon service, she wrote the first chapter of a novel.
It was soon finished, and was published that year, -a thin
volume of two hundred pages, without her name, under the
title of  IHobomok; a Tale of Early Times.  By aln Americanl."
In judgingi of this little book, it is to be rememl)ered that
it appeared in the very dawnl of American literature.  Irving had printed only his "Sketch Book " and "Bracebridge
H ll; " Cooper only  Precaution,"  The Spy,"  The Pioneers," and "The Pilot; " M1iss Sedgwick only "The New
EngDland Tale," and possibly " Redwood."  This new production was the hasty work of a young woman of twenty-two,
inspired by these few examplnes.  When one thinks how little
an American author finds in the influences around him, even
now, to chasten his style or keep him up to any high literary
standard, it is plain how very little she could then have found.
According,ly" I-Iobomokl "seems very crude in execution, very
improbable in plot, and is redeemed only by a certain earnestness which carries the reader along, and by a sincere attempt after local coloring.  It is an Indian "Enoch Arden,"
with important modifications, which unfortunately all tend
away from probability.  Instead of the original lover who
heroically yields his place, it is to him that the place is given
up.  The hero of this self-sacrifice is an Indian, a mani of 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
nigh and noble character, whose wife the heroine h.-d consellted to become, when almost stunned with the false tidings
of hler lover's-deathl.  The least artistic thing,s ill the book
are these sudden nuptials, and the equally sudden resolution
of Ilobomok to  abandon his wife and child on the reappear
ance of the original betrothed.  As the first work  whose scene
was laid in Puritan days, "Hobomok" will always have a
historic interest; but it must be read in very early youth to
give it any other attraction.
The success of this first effort was at any rate such as to
encouriage the publication of a second tale ill tlhe following
year.  This was " The Rebels; or, Boston before the Revoltition.  By the author of Ilobomok."  It was a great advance
on its predecessor, with more vigor, more variety, more picturesque grouping,, and more animation of style.  The historica.l point was well chosen, and the series of public and
private events well combined, with something, of that tendeney to the over-tragic which is common with young authors,
-it is so much easier to kill off superfluous characters than
to do ianything else with them.  It compared not unfavorably
withl Cooper's revolutionary novels, and had in one respect a
remarkable success.  It contained an imaginary sermon by
117hitefield and an imaginary speech by James Otis.  Both of
these were soon transplanted into "School Readers" and
books of declamation, and the latter, at least, soon passed for
a piece of genuine revolutionary eloquence.   I remember
learniing it by heart, under that impression, and was really
astonished, on recently reading "The Rebels" for the first
time, to discover that the high-sounding periods which I had
always attributed to Otis were really to be found in a young
lady's romance.
This book has a motto from Bryant, and is "most respect fully inscribed" to George Ticknor.   The closing paragraph
states with some terseness the author's modest anxieties:
43 
EEMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"Mlany will conmplaini that I have dwelt too much on politi.
cal scenes, familiar to every one who reads our history; and
others, on the contrary, N~ill say that the character of the
bookl is quite too tranquil for its title.  I milght mention many
doubts and fears still more important; but I prefer silently to
trust this humble volume to that futurity which no one can
foresee and every one can read."
The fears must soon have seemed useless, for the young
novelist soon became almost a fashionatble lion.  She was an
American Fainniy Barney, with rather reduced copies of Burlike
and Johnson around her.  t1cr personal qualities soon  cemented. some frieniidships, whichl lasted her life long, cxcept where her later anlti-slavery action interfered.   She
openied a private school iin Watertown, which lasted firom
1825 to 1828.  She established, in 1827, the "Juvenile MIiscellaniy," that delilghtful pioneer among childreni's m'tgazines
in America; and it was continued for ei;ght. years.   In October, 1828, she was married to David Lee Child, a lawyer
of Boston.
In those days it seemed to be held necessary for American
women to work their passage into literature by first compiling
a cookleir-book.  They must be perfect in that preliminary
requisite before they could proceed to advanced standing.  It
was not quite as in Marvell's satire oil HIollaid, " Invenit a shlovel
and be a magistrate," but, Give us our dinner and then, ii
you please, what is called the intellectual feast. Any career
you choose, let it only beg,in from the kitchen.   As Charlotte
Hawes has since written, "First this steak and then thlat
stake."  So Mrs. Child lublished in 1829 her " Frugal Housewife," a book which proved so popular that in 1836 it had
reached its twentieth edition, and in 1855 its thirty-third.
The " Frugal IHousewife" now lies before me, after thirty
years of abstinence from its appetizing pages.  The words
seem as familiar as when we childrelL used to study them be
-i4 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
side the kitchen fire, poring over them as if their very
descriptions hadcl power to allay an unquenched appetite or
prolong the delights of one satiated.  There were  the anlimals in the frontispiece, sternly divided by a dissectiing-knife
of priniter's ink, into sections whose culinary names seemed
as complicated as those of surgical science, -  chump and
sprilig, sirloini and sperib,- for I faithfully follow the originl spelling.  There we read with profound acquliescence thalt
"herd giingerbreadcl is good to have ill the family," but denamrred at the reason given, "it keeps so well."  It never
kept well in ours! There we all learned that one should be
governed in cookery by higher considerations than mere
worldly vanity, knowing that "many people buy the upper
part of the sp.,reribl of pork, thlinking, it the most genteel;
but the lower part is more sweet and juicy, and there is more
mneat in proportion to the bone."
Going beyond mere c.rnlal desires, we read also the wholesome directions " to those who are not ashamed of economy."
WTe were informed that " children could early learn to take
care of their own clothes," - a responsibility,It which we shuiddered; and also that it was a good thing for children to pick
blacklberriies, -in which we heartily concurred.   There, too,
we were taught to pick up twine and paper, to write on the
backs of t)ld letters, like paper-sparing Pope, and if we had
a dollar a day, which seemed a wild supposition, to live on
seventy-five cents.  We all read, too, with interest, the hints
on the polishilng of furniture and the education of daughters,
ancld got our first glimpses of political economy from the
PReasolns for Hard Times."  So varied and comprehensive
-was the good sense of the book that it surely would have
seemed to our childish minds inflllilble, but for one fatal admnission, which throu,gh life I have recalled with dismay,the assertion, namely, that" economical people will seldom use
preserves."  "They are unhealthy, expensive, and useless to
45 
46     EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
those who are well."  This was a sumptuary law, against
which the soul of youth revolted.  Really the line of asceticism must be drawn somewhere.  If preserves were to be
voted extravagant, economy had lost its charms; let us immediately become spendthrifts, and have a short life and a merry
one.
The wise counsels thus conveyed in this more-than-cookerybook may naturally have led the way to a " Mothler's Booki,"
of more direct exhortation.  This was published in 1831, and
had a great success, reaching, its eighth American edition ip
1845, besides twelve E1nglish editions and a German tranlslation.  Probabl)ly it is now out of print, l)ut one may still find
at the bookstores the " Girl's Own Bookl," published during,
the samne year.  This is a capital maullal of illdoor games,
and is worth owning by ally one who has a houseful of chlildren, or is liable to serve as a Lord of Misrule at Christmas
parties.  It is illustrated with vignettes by that wayward
child of genius, Francis Graeter, a German, whom MIrs. Child
afterwards descril)ed in the "Letters from New York."  Ile
was a personal friend of hers, and his pencil is also traceal)le
in some of her later books.  Indeed the drollest games which
he has delineated in the- " Girl's Own Book" are not so amusing as the unintentional comedy of his attempt at a " Ladies'
Sewing Circle," which illustrates American life in the " H-istory of Woman."  The fair laborers sit about a small round
table, with a smirk of mistimrned levity on their fatecs, and one
feels an irresistible impulse to insert in their very curly hair
the twisted papers employed in the game of " Genteel lady,
always genteel," in the " Girl's Own Book."
The "History of Woman" appeared in 1832, as one of a
series projected by Carter &  HIendee, of whiclh  Irs. Child
was to l)e the editor, but which was interrupted at the fifth
volume by the ftiilure of the publishers.   She compiled for
this the "Biographies of Good Wives," the "Memoirs" of 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
Madame De Stael and Madame Roland, those of Lady Ruis
sell and Madame Guion, and the two volumes of " Vorntan."
All these aimed at a popular, not a profound, treatment.  She
was, perhaps, too good a compiler, shlowing in such work the
traits of her brother's mind, and carefillly exclutding all thtose
airy flights and bold speculations which afterwards seemed
her favorite element. The " History of Wnomani," for inistance,
was a mere assemblage of facts, be,giniing and endiing atl)ruptl3:,
and with no glimpse of any leading thlou,ght or general philosophy.  It was, however, the first American storehouse of
information upon that whole question, and no dotl)t helped
the agitation along,. Its author evidently looked with distrust,
however, on that risiing movement for the equality of the
sexes, of which Frances Wright was then the rather forirmlidable leader.
The "Biographies of Good Wives" reached a fifthl edition
in the course of time, as did the " History of Wroman."  I
have a vague, childish recollection of her next book, "The
Coronal," published in 1833,  which was of rather a filgitive
description.  The same year broug,ht her to one of those bold
steps which made successive eras in her literary life, the publication of her "Appeal for that Class of Americans called
Africans."
The name was rather cumbrous, like all attempts to include
an epigram in a title-page, -but the theme and the word
Appeal " were enough.  It was under the form of atll " Ap peal" that the colored man, Alexander Walker, had thrown
a firebrand into Southern society which had been followed by
Nat Turner's insurrection; and now a literary lady, amid the
cultivated circles of Boston, dared also to "appeal." Only
two years before (1831) Garrison had begun the "Libera tor," and only two years later (1835) he was destined to be
dragged through Boston streects, with a rope round his neck,
by "gentlemen of property and standing,," as the newspapers
47 
48    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE A(]E.
said next day.  It was just at the most dange rouls moment of
the rising storm that Mrs. Child appealed.
Miss Martineau in her article, "The Martyr Age in America,"- published in the "London and Westminster Review
in 1839, and at once reprinted in America, -gives by far the
most graphic picture yet drawn of that perilous time.  She
describes Mrs. Child as "a lady of whom society was exceedin,gly proud before she published her Appeal, and to whom
society has been extremely contemptuous ever since."  She
adds: "Her works were boulght with avidity before, but fell
into sudden oblivion as soon as she had done a greater deed
than writing any of them."
It is evident that this result was not unexpected, for the
preface to the book explicitly recognizes the probable dissatisfaction of the public.  She says:
I am fully aware of the unpopularity of the task I have
undertaken; but though I expect ridicule and censure, I cannot fear them.  A  few years hence, the opinion of the world
will be a matter in which I have not even the most transient
interest; but this book will be abroad on its mission of hlumanit long after the hand that wrote it is ming,ling with the
dust. Should it be the means of advancing, even one single
hour, the inevitable progress of truth and justice, I would not
exchange the consciousness for all Rothschild's wealth, or Sir
Walter's fame."
These words have in them a genuine ring; and the book
is really worthy of them. Ill looking over its pages, after the
lapse of thirty years, it seems incredible that it should have
drawn upon her such hostility. The tone is calm and strong,
the treatment systematic, the points well put, the statements
well guarded.  The successive chapters treat of the history
of slavelry, its comparative aspect ill different ages and la 
LYDIA MARIA CIIILD.
tions, its influence on politics, the profitableness of emancipation, the evils of the colonization scheme, the intellect
of negroes, their morals, the feeling against them, and the
duties of tlhe community in their behalf.  As it was the first
anti-slavery work ever printed in America in book form, so
I have always thought i thle ablest; thlat is, it covered the
whole ground better than any other.  I know that, on reading
it for the first time, nearly teil years after its first appearance,
it lhad more formative influence oIl my mind, in that direction,
thal any other, altihough of course the eloquence of public
llmeetiings was a more exciting stimulus.   It never surprised
me to hear that even Dr. Chlanning attributed a part of his
own anti-slavery awakening to this admirable book.  He took
pailis to seek out its author immediately onl its appearance,
and there is in his biographly an interesting account of tlhe
meeting.  His own work on slavery did not appear until 1835.
Undaunted and perhaps stimulated by opposition, 3Irs.
Child followed up her self-appointed task.  During the next
year she published the " Oasis," a sort of anti-slavery annual,
the precursor of MIrs. Chlapman's "Liberty Bell," of later
years.  She also published, about this time, an "Anti-slavery
Catechism," and a small book called "Authentic Anecdotes
of American Slavery."  These I have never seen, but find
them advertised on the cover of a third pamphlet, which, with
them, went to a second edition in 1839.  "The Evils of Slavery and the Cure of Slavery; the first proved by the opinions of Southerners themselves, the last shown by historical
evidence."  This is a compact and sensible little work.
While thus seemingly absorbed in reformatory work she
still kept an outlet in the direction of pure literature, and was
employed for several years on her "Phlilothea," which appeared in 1833.  The scene of this novel was laid in ancient
Greece. It appeared with her name on the title-page, was
inscribed to her brother, and the copyright was taken out
4
49
I
i
I
I
t
f
II
I
i 
50    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
by Park Benjamin, a literary friend residingc, in New York.
The preface to the book has so much the character of autobiography, that it must be inserted without abridgment.
"This volume is purely romance; and most readers will
consider it romance of the wildest kind. A few kindred
spirits, prone to people space'with life and mystical predominance,' will perceive a light within the Grecian Temple.
" For such I have written it.  To minds of different mould,
who may think an apology necessary for what they will deem
so utterly useless, I have nothing better to offer than the
simple fact that I found delight in doing it.
"The work has been four or five years in its progress; for
the practical tendencies of the age, and particularly of the
country in which I lived, have so contimnually forced me into
the actual, that my mind has seldom obtained freedom to rise
into the ideal.
"The hope of extended usefulness has hitherto induced a
strong effort to throw myself into the spirit of the times;
which is prone to neglect beautiful and fragrant flowers, unless
their roots answer for vegetables, and their leaves for herbs.
But there have been seasons when my soul felt restless in this
bondag,e, - like the Pegasus, of German fable, chained to a
plodding ox, and offered in the market; and as that rash
steed when he caught a glimpse of the far blue sky, snapped
the chain that bound him, spread his wings, and left the earth
beneath him, - so I, for awhile, bid adieu to the substantial
fields of utility, to float on the clouds of romance.
"The state of mind produced by the alternation of thoughts,
in their nature so opposite, was oddly pictured by the following, dream, which came before me in my sleep, with all the
distinctness of reality, soon after I began to write this work.
I dreamed that I arose early in the morning, and went into
my garden, eager to svc if the crocus had yet ventured to 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
peep above the ground. To my astonishment, that little
spot, which, the day before, had worn the dreary aspect of
winter, was now filled with flowers of every form and hue.
With enthusiastic joy I clapped my hands, and called aloud
to my husband to come and view the wonders of the garden.
He came; and we passed from flower to flower, admiring
their marvellous beauty.  Then, with a sudden bound, I said,
'Now come and see the sunshine on the water!'
We passed to the side of the house, where the full sea presented itself in all the radiance of the morning. And as we
looked, lo, there appeared a multitude of boats with sails like
the wings of butterflies, which now opened wide and reposed on the surface of the water; and now closed like the
motions of weary insects in July; and ever as they moved,
the gorgeous colors glittered in the sunshine.
I exclaimed,'These must have come from fairy land!'
As I spoke, suddenly we saw among the boats, a multitude
of statues, that seemed to be endowed with life; some large
and majestic, some of beautiful feminine proportions, and an
almost infinite variety of lovely little cherubs. Some were
diving, some floating, and some undulating on the surface of
the sea; and ever as they rose up, the water-drops glittered
like gems on the pure white marble.
"We could find no words to express our rapture while
gazing on a scene thus clothed with the beauty of other
worlds.  As we stood absorbed in the intensity of delight, I
heard a noise behind me, and, turning round, saw an old
woman with a checked apron, who made an awkward courtesy, and said,'Ma'am, I can't afford to let you hlve that
brisket for eight pence a pound.'
"When I related this dream to my husband, hle smiled and
said,'The first part of it was dreamed by Philothea; the last,
by the Fnirugal Housewife."'
51 
52  EMIINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
I wfell remember the admiration with which this roratnce
was hailed; and for me personally it wvas one of those deli,ghts of boyhood which the criticism of maturity cannot disturb. WThat mattered it if she brought Anaxagoras and
Plato on the stage together, whereas in truth the one died
about the year when the other was born?  What mattered it
if in her book the classic themes were treated in a romantic
spirit?  That is the fate of almost all such attempts; compare
for instance the choruses of Swinburne's "Atalanta," which
milght have been written onl the banks of the Rhine, and very
likely wvere.  But childhood never wishes to discriminate,
only to combine; a period of life which likes to sugar its
bread-and-butter prefers also to have its classic and romantic
in one.
" Philothea"was Mrs. Child's first attempt to return, with her
anti-slavery cross still upon her, into the ranks of literature.
Mrs. S. J. Hale, who, in her:'7oman's PRecord," reproves
her sister writer for " wasting her soul's wealth" in this radicalism, and "doing incalculable injury to humanity," seems
to take a stern satisfaction in tihe fact that "the bitter feelings
engendered by the strife have prevented the merits of this
remarkable book from being appreciated  as they deserve."
This was perhaps true; nevertheless it went throtugh three
editions, and Mrs. Child, still keeping up the full circle of
her labors, printed nothing but a rather short-lived " Family
Nurse" (in 1837) before entering the anti-slavery arena
again.
In 1841, Mr. and Mrs. Child were engaged by the American Anti-slavery Society to edit the "Anti-slavery Standard,"
a weekly newspaper then and now published in New York.
SMr. Child's health being impaired, his wife undertook the
task alone, and conducted the newspaper in that mannier for
two years, after which she aided her husband in the work,
remaining there for eight years in all.  She was very success
0 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
fuil as an editor, her management being, brave and efficient,
wh ile her cultivated taste made the " Standard" attractive to
many who were not attracted by the plainer fare of the "Liberator."   The good judgment  shown in her poetical  and
literary selections was always  acknowledged with especial
gratitude by those who read the "Standard" at that time.
During all this period she was a member of the family of the
well-known Quaker philanthropist, Isaac T. iHopper, whose
biographer she afterwards became.  This must have been the
most important and satisfactory time in Mrs. Child's whole
life.  She was placed where her sympathetic nature found
abundant outlet, and plenty of co-operation.  Dwelling in a
home where disinterestedness and noble labor were as daily
breath, she had great opportunities.   There was no mere
almsgiving there, no mere secretaryship of benevolent societies; but sin and sorrow must be brought home to the fireside
and to the heart; the fugitive slave, the drunkard, the outcast woman, must be the chosen guest of the abode,- must
be taken and held and loved into reformation or hope.  Since
the stern tragedy of city life began, it has seen no more efficient organization for relief, than when dear old Isaac Hopper and Mrs. Child took utp their abode beneath one roof in
New York.
For a time she did no regular work in the cause of permanent literature,-though she edited an anti-slavery Almanac
in 1843,-but she found an opening for her best eloquence
in writing letters to the "Boston Courier," then under the
charge of Joseph T. Buckingham.  This was the series of
"Letters from New York" that afterwards became famous.
They were the precursors of that modern school of newspaper
correspondence, in which women have so large a share, and
which has something of the charm of womenl's private letters,
-a style of writing where description preponderates over
argumennt, and statistics make way for fancy and enthusiasm.
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5  EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Many have since followed in this path, and perhaps MIrs.
Child's letters would not now be hailed as they then were.
Others may have equalled her, but she gave us a new sensation, and that epoch was perhaps the climax even of her
purely literary career.
Their tone also did much to promote the tendency, which
was showing itself in those days, towards a fresh inquiry into
the foundations of social science.  The "Brook Farm" experiment was then at its height; and though she did not call
herself an'"Associationist," yet she quoted Fourier and Swedenborg, and other authors who were thought to mean mischief; andl her highest rhapsodies about poetry and music
wvere apt to end in some fervent appeal for some increase of
harmony in daily life. She seemed always to be talking
radicalism in a greenhouse; and there were many good people who held her all the more d,angerous for her perfumes.
There were young men and maidens, also, who looked to her
as a teacher, and were influenced for life, perhaps, by what
she wrote.  I knew, for instance, a young lawyer, just entering, on the practice of his profession under the most flattering,
auspices, who withdrew from the courts forever, -wisely or
unwisely, -because AMrs. Child's book had taught him to
hate their contests and their injustice.
It was not long after this that James Russell Lowell, in his
Fable for Critics,"- that strange medley of true wit and
feeling intermingled with sketches of celebrities that are forgotten, and of personal hostilities that ought to be, - gave
himself up to one impulse of pure poetry in describing Mrs.
Child. It is by so many degrees the most charming sketch
ever made of her, that the best part of it must be inserted
here.
"There comes Philothea, her face all aglow,
She has just been dividing some poor creature's woe, 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
And can't tell which pleases her most, to relieve
His want, or his story to hear and believe;
"The pole, science tells us, the magnet controls,
But she is a magnet to emigrant Poles,
And folks with a mission that nobody knows
Throng thickly about her, as bees round a rose;
She can fill up the carets in such, make their scope
Converge to some focus of rational hope,
And with sympathies fresh as the morning, their gall
Can transmute into honey,- but this is not all;
Not only for these she has solace, oh, say,
Vice's desperate nursling adrift in Broadway,
Who clingest with all that is left of thee human
To the last slender spar from the wreck of the woman,
Hast thou not found one shore where those tired drooping feet
Could reach firm mother earth, one full heart on whose beat
The soothed head in silence reposing could hear
The chimes of far childhood throb thick on the ear?
Ah, there's many a beam from the fountain of day
That to reach us unclouded, must pass on its way,
Through the soul of a woman, and hers is wide ope
To the influence of Heaven as the blue eyes of Hope;
Yes, a great soul is hers, one that dares to go in
To the prison, the slave-hut, the alleys of sin,
And to bring into each, or to find there, some line
Of the never completely out-trampled divine;
If her heart at high floods swamps her brain now and then,
'Tis but richer for that when the tide ebbs again,
As after old Nile has subsided, his plain
Overflows with a second broad deluge of grain;
What a wealth would it bring to the narrow and sour,
Could they be as a Child but. for one little hour!"
The two series of "Letters" appeared in 1843 and 1845,
and went through seven or more editions. They were followed in 1846 by a collection of Tales, mostly reprinted,
entitled "Fact and Fiction." The book was dedicated to
"Anna Loriing, the child of my heart," and was a series of
powerful and well-told narratives, some purely ideal, but
mostly based upon the sins of great cities, especially those
of man against woman.  She might have sought more joyous
55
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56    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
themes, but none which at that time lay so near her heart.
There was more sunshine in her next literary task, for, in
1852, she collected three small volumes of her stories from
the " Juvenile Miscellany," and elsewhere, under the title of
Flowers for Children."
Ill 1853 she published her next book, entitled "Isaac T.
Hopper; a True Life." This gave another new sensation to the
public, for her books never seemed to repeat each other, and
belonged to almost as many different departments as there
were volumes.  The critics complained that this  memoir
was a little fragmentary, a series of interesting stories without sufficient method or unity of conception.  Perhaps it
would have been hard to make it otherwise.  Certainly, as
the book stands, it seems like the department of "Benevolence" in the "Percy Anecdotes," and serves as an cncyclopwdia of daring and noble charities.
Her next book was the most arduous intellectual labor of
her life, and, as 6ften happens in such cases, the least p)rofitable in the way  of money.   The Progress of RPeligioiis
Ideas through successive Ages "was published in three large
volumes, in 1855.  She had bergun it long before, in New
York, with the aid of the Mercantile Library and the Commercial Library, then the best in the city.  It was finished
in Wayland, with the aid of her brother's store of books, and
with his and Theodore Parker's counsel as to her course of
reading.  It seems, from the preface, that more than eight
years elapsed between the planning and the printing, and for
six years it was her main pursuit.  For this great labor she
had absolutely no pecuniary reward; the book paid its
expenses and nothing more. It is now out of print, and not
easy to obtain.
This disappointment was no doubt due partly to the fact
that the book set itself in decided opposition, unequivocal
though gentle, to the prevailing religiou.i iiipressions of the 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
community.  It may have been, also, that it was too learned
for a popular book, and too popular for a learned one.
Learnin(,r, indeed,  she distinctly disavowed.  "If readers
complain of want of profoundness, they may perchance be
willitng to accept simplicity and clearness in exchange for
depth."  "Doubtless a learned person would have performed
the task far better, in many respects; but, on some accounts,
my want of learning is an advantage.  Thou,ghts do not
range so freely, when the store-room of the brain is overloaded with furniture."  And she gives at the end, with her
usual frankness, a list of works consulted, all being in English, except seven, which are ill French.  It was a bold thing
to base a history of religiots ideas on such books as Enifield's
Philosophy and Taylor's Plato.  The trouble was not so much
that the learning was second-hand,- for such is mlost learning, -as that the authorities were second-rate.  The stream
could hardly go higher than its source; and a book based on
such very inadequate researches could hardly be accepted,
even  when  tried by  that very  accommodating standard,
American scholarship.
Apart from this, the plan and spirit of the work deserve
much  praise.  It is  perhaps  the  best  attempt in our
langu,gc to bring together in a popular form, or indeed in
any form, the religious symbols and utterances of different
ages, pointing, out their analogies  and  treating, all with
respect. Recognizing all religions as expressions of ollne
universal and einnobling instinct, it wvas impossible that she
should not give dissatisfaction to many sincere minds; had it
been possible to avoid this, she would have succeeded.  Not
only is there no irreverence, but the author is of almost too
syimpathetic a nature to be called even a rationalist.  The
candor is perfect, and if she has apparently no prejLvdice in
favor of the Christian religion, she has certainly what is rare
amolng polemics who tend in her direction, —i rj l,nopr3,
57
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58     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
against it.   She takes pains-  some readers would  say
exaggerated pains - to point out its superiority to all
others.
In 1857, Mrs. Child published a volume entitled "Autumnal Leaves; Tales and Sketches ill Prose and Rhyme."
It might seem firom this title that she regarded her career of
action as drawing to a close. If so, she was soon undeceived,
and the attack of Captain John Brown upon Harper's Ferry
aroused her, like many others, froe a dream of peace.
Immediately on the arrest of Captain Brown she wrote
him a brief letter, asking permission to go and nurse him, as
he was wounded and among enemies, and as his wife was
supposed to be beyond immediate reach. This letter she
enclosed in one to Governor Wise.  She then went home
and packed her trunk, with her husbanld's full approval, but
decided not to go until she heard from Captain Brown, not
knowing what his precise wishes nmight be.  She had heard
that he had expressed a wish to have the aid of some lawyer
not identified with the anti-slavery movement, and she
thou,ght he was entitled to the same considerations of policy
in regard to a nurse. Meantime Mrs. Brown was sent for,
and promptly arrived; while Captain Brown wrote Mrs.
Child one of his plain and characteristic letters, declining her
offer, and asking her kind aid for his family, which was
faithfully given.
But with his letter came one from Governor Wise,courteous, but rather diplomatic,-  and containing some reproof of her expressions of sympathy for the prisoner. To
this she wrote an answer, well-worded, and quite effective,
which, to her great surprise, soon appeared in the "New York
Tribune."  She wrote to the editor (Nov. 10, 1859): "I was
much surprised to see my correspondence with Governor
Wise published in your columns.  As I have never given 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
any person a copy, I presume you must have obtained it
from Virginia."
This correspondence soon led to another. Mrs. M. J. C.
Mason, wrote from "Alto, King George's County, Virginia,"
a formidable demonstration, beginning thus: "Do you read
your Bible, Mrs. Child?  If you do, read there,'Woe unto
you hypocrites,' and take to yourself, with twofold damnation, that terrible sentence; for, rest assured, in the day of
judgment, it shall be more tolerable for those thus scathed
by the awful denunciations of the Son of God than for you."
This startling commencement - of which it must be calmly
asserted that it comes very near swearing, for a lady - leads
to something like bathos at the end, where Mrs. Mason adds
in conclusion, "no Southerner ought, after your letters to
Governor Wise, to read a line of your composition, or to
touch a magazine which bears your name in its list of contributors." To begin with doubly-dyed future torments, and
come gradually to the climax of "Stop my paper," admits of
no other explanation than that Mrs. Mason had dabbled in
literature herself, and knew how to pierce the soul of a sister
in the trade.
But the great excitement of that period, and the general
loss of temper that prevailed, may plead a little in vindication of Mrs. Mason's vehemence, and must certainly enhance
the dignity of Mrs. Child's reply. It is one of the best
things she ever wrote.   She refuses to dwell on the invectives of her assailant, and only "wishes her well, both in
this world and the next." Nor will she even debate the
specific case of John Brown, whose body was in charge of
the courts, and his reputation sure to be in charge of posterity. " Men, however great they may be," she says, "are
of small consequence in comparison with principles, and the
principle for which John Brown died is the question at issueo
between us."
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59 
60    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
She accordingly proceeds to discuss this question, first
scripturally (following the lead of her assailant), then on gen eral principles; and gives one of her usual clear summaries
of the whole argument. Now that the excitements of the
hour have passed, the spirit of her whole statement must
claim just praise. The series of letters was published in
pamphlet form in 1860, and secured a wider circulation than
anything she ever wrote, embracing some three hundred
thousand copies. In return she received many private letters
from the slave States, mostly anonymous, and often grossly
insulting.
Hlaving gained so good a hearing, she followed up her
opportunity. During the same year she printed two small
tracts, "The Patriarchal Institution," and "The Duty of Disobedience to the Fugitive Slave Lawv;" and then one of her
most elaborate compilations, entitled  The Right Way the
Safe Way, proved by Emancipation in the British West
Indies and elsewhere."  This shows the same systematic and
thorough habit of mind with its predecessors; and this business-like way of dealing with facts is hard to reconcile with
the dreamy and almost uncontrolled idealism which she elsewhere shows.  In action, too, she has usually shown the same
practical thoroughness, and in case of this very book, forwarded copies at her own expense to fifteen hundred persons
in the slave States.
In 1864 she published "Looking towards Sunset,"-a very
agreeable collection of prose and verse, by various authors,
all bearing upon the aspects of old age.  This was another
of those new directions of literary activity with which she so
often surprised her friends. The next year brought still another in the "Freedmen's Book,"- a collection of short tales
and sketches suited to the mental condition of the Southern
freedmen, and published for their benefit. It was sold for
that purpose at cost (sixty cents), and a good many copies 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
are still being distributed through teachers and missionaries.
Her latest publication, and perhaps (if one might venture
to guess) her favorite among the whole series, appeared in
1867, -"A  Romance of the Republic."  It was received
with great cordiality, and is ill some respects her best fictitious work. The scenes are laid chiefly at the South, where
she has given the local coloring in a way really remarkable
for one who never visited that region,- while the results of
slavery are painted with the thorough knowledge of one who
had devoted a lifetime to their study. The leading characters are of that type which is now becoming rather common
in fiction, because American society affords none whose
situation is so dramatic, -young quadroons educated to a
high grade of culture, and sold as slaves after all. All the
scenes are handled in a broad spirit of humanity, and betray
no trace of that subtle sentiment of caste which runs through
and through some novels written ostensibly to oppose caste.
The characterization is good, and the events interesting andl
vigorously handled. The defect of the book is a common
one,- too large a framework, too many vertebrae to the plot.
Even the established climax of a wedding is a safer experiment than to prolong the history into the second generation,
as here.  The first two-thirds of the story would have been
more effective without the conclusion.   But it will always
possess value as one of the few really able delineations of
slavery in fiction, and the author may well look back with
pride on this final offering at that altar of liberty where so
much of her life had been already laid.
I have now enumerated all of Mrs. Child's writings, so far
as I can ascertain them,-some having been attributed to her
which she did not write, - and have mentioned such of her
public acts as are inseparable from her literary career. Beyond this it is not now right to go. It is now nearly twenty
i
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62     EMINENT WOMEN OF, THE AGE.
years since she left not only the busy world of New York,
but almost the world of society, and took up her abode (after
a short residence at West Newton), in the house bequeathed
to her by her father, at Wayland, Massachusetts. In that
quiet village she and her husband have peacefully dwelt,
avoiding even friendship's intrusions. Into the privacy of
that home I have no right to enter. Times of peace have no
historians, and the later career of Mrs. Child has had few of
what the world calls events. Her domestic labors, her studies, her flowers, and her few guests keep her ever busy. She
has no children of her own,.- though, as some one has said,
a great many of other people's, - but more than one whom
she has befriended has dwelt with her since her retirement,
and she comes forth sometimes to find new beneficiaries.
But for many of her kindnesses she needs not to leave home,
since they are given in the form least to be expected from a
literary woman, - that of pecuniary bounty. If those who
labor for the freedmen, in especial, were to testify, they could
prove that few households in the country have contributed on
a scale so very liberal, in proportion to their means. Dutiring
the war this munificence was still farther enhanced in the
direction of the soldiers. But it is not yet time for the left
hand to know what these right hands have done, and I forbear.
One published letter, however, may serve as a sample of
many. It was addressed to the last Anti-slavery Festival at
Boston, and not only shows the mode of action adopted by
M     r. and      Mrs. Child, but  their latest opinions as to public
affairs:
"WAYLAND, Jan. 1st, 1868.
"DEAR FRIEND PHILLIPS:-We ellnclose $50 as our subscription to the Anti-slavery Society. If our means equalled our
wishes, we would send a sum as large as the legacy FRANCIS
JACKSON intended for that purpose, and of which the society
I
q 
LYDIA MARIA CIIILD.
was deprived, as we think, by an unjust legal decision. If
our sensible and judicious friend could speak to us from the
other side of Jordan, we doubt not he would say that the
vigilance of the Anti-slavery Society was never more needed
than at the present crisis, and that, consequently, he was
never more disposed to aid it liberally.
" Of course the rancorous pride and prejudice of this country cannot be cured by any short process, not even by lessons
so sternly impressive as those of our recent bloody conflict.
There is cause for great thankfulness that'war Abolitionists'
were driven to perform so important a part in the great programme of Providence; but their recognition of human brotherhood is rarely of a kind to be trusted in emergencies.  In
most cases, it is not'skin deep.'  Those who were Abolitionists in the teeth of popular opposition are the only ones
who really made the case of the colored people their own;
therefore they are the ones least likely to be hoodwinvked by
sophistry and false pretences now.
" To us the present crisis of the country seems more dangreous than that of'61.  The insidiousness of oppressors is
always more to be dreaded than their open violence.  There
can be no reasonal)le doubt that a murderous feeling toward
the colored people prevails extensively at the South; and we
are far from feeling very sure that a large party could not be
rallied at the North in favor of restoring slavery. WVe have
no idea that it ever can be restored; but if we would avert
the horrors of another war, more dreadful than the last, we
must rouse up and keep awake a public sentiment that will
compel politicians to do their duty.  This we consider the
appropriate and all-important work of the old Anti-slavery
Society.
" The British Anti-slavery Society deserted their post too
soon. If they had been as watchful to protect the freed people of the West Indies as they were zealous to emanaciplate
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64     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
them, that horrid catastrophe in Jamaica mi,ht hl've been
avoided.  The state of things in those islands warns us how
dangerous it is to trust those who have been slaveholders,
and those who habitually sympathize with slaveholders, to
frame laws and regulations for liberated slaves.  As well
mi,ght wolves be trusted to guard a sheepfold.
"WVe thank God, firiend Phillips, that you are preserved and
strengthened to be a wakeful sentinel on the watch-tower,
ever ready to warn a drowsy nation against selfish, timid
politicians, and dawdling legislators, who manifest no trust
either in God or the people.
" Yours faithfully,
DAVID L. CHILD,
"L. MARIA CHIILD."
This is all of Mrs. Child's biography that can now be written; and it is far more than her sensitive nature -  shriuiking
from publicity even when she brings it on herself - would
approve. She is one of those prominent instances in our literature, of persons born for the pursuits of pure intellect,
whose intellects were yet balanced by their hearts, and both
absorbed in the great moral agitations of the age.  "My
natural incelinations," she once wrote to me, "drew me much
more strongly towards literature and the arts than towards
reform, and the weight of conscience was needed to turn the
scale."  She has doubtless gained in earnestness far more
than she has lost in popularity, in wealth, or even in artistic
culture; the first two losses count for little, and the last may
not be due to her advocacy of reforms alone, but to the crude
condition, as respects even literary art, which yet marks us
all.  In a community of artists, she would have belonged to
that class, for she had that instinct in her soul. But she was
placed where there was as yet no exactilng, literary standard;
she wrote better than most of her contemporaries, and well 
LYDIA MARIA CHILD.
enough for her public. She did not, therefore, win that intellectual immortality which only the very best writers command,
and which few Americans have attained.  But she v on a meed
which she would value more highly, -that warmth of sympathy, that mingled gratitude of intellect and heart which
men give to those who have faithfully served their day and
generation. No rural retirement can hide her from the prayers
of those who were ready to perish, when they first knew her;
and the love of those whose lives she has enriched from childhood will follow her fading eyes as they look towards sunset,
and, after her departing, will keep her memory green.
65 
66     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
SARA PAYsoN WILLIS, daughter of Nathaniel and Sara
Willis, was born in Portland, Maine, in midsummer of the
year of our Lord 1811. In that fine old town, in that fine old
State, where as she says, "the timber and the human beings
are sound," she spent the first six years of her life. During
those years, our country passed through a troublous time,
- a supplementary grapple with the old country,- final, let
us hope, and eminently satisfactory in its results, to one party
at least. But it is not probable that the shock and tumult of
war seriously disturbed the little Sara, sphered apart from its
encounters, sieges, conflagrations, and unnatural griefs, in the
fairy realm of a happy childhood. Whether we made a covwardly surrender at Detroit, or incarnadined Lake Erie with
British blood,- whether we conquered at Chippewa, or rehearsed Bull Run at Bladensburg, -whether our enemy
burned the Capitol at Washington, or was soundly thrashed
at New Orleans,- it was all the same to her. However the
heart of the noble mother may have been pained by the tragedies, privations and mournings of that time, it brooded over
the little baby-life in sheltering peace and love;- as the robin,
when her nest rocks in the tempest, shields her unfledged
darlings with jealous care.
I have a theory, flanked by whole columns of biographical
history, that no man or woman of genius was ever born ol 
asANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
an inferior, or common-place woman. The mother of Nathaniel, Richard, and Sara Willis was a large-brained, as well
as great-hearted woman. The beautiful tributes of her poetson made all the world aware of her most lovable qualities
-her faithful2 maternal tenderness and broad, sweet charity;
but to these were added rare mental power and character of
singular nobility and weight.
From a private letter, addressed by the subject of this
biographical sketch to a friend, in answer to some questions
concerning this noble mother, I am permitted to take the following touching tribute:  "All my brother's poetry, all the
capability for writing which I possess - be it little, or muchcame from her. She had correspondence with many clergymen of the time and others, and, had she lived at this day,
would have been a writer worthy of mention. In those days
women had nine children -her number and stifled their souls
under baskets of stockings to mend and aprons to make. She
made every one who came near her better and happier for
having seen her.  She had a heart as wide as the world, and
charity to match. Oh, the times I have thrown my arms
wildly about me and sobbed'Mother!' till it seemed she
must come! I shall never be'weaned,' never!  She understood me. Even now, I want her, every day and hour.
Blessed be eternity and immortality!   That is what my
mother was to me.  God bless her!"
In 1817 Mr. Willis removed to Boston, where he for many
years edited the "Recorder," a religious journal, and "The
Youth's Companion," a juvenile paper, of blessed memory.
In Boston, Sara spent the remainder of her childhood; and a
grand old town it is to be reared in, notwithstanding the east
wind, its crooked, cow-path streets, and general promiscuousness,-  notwithstanding, its exceeding self-satisfaction, its
social frigidity, its critical narrowness and its contagious
isms; among the most undesirable of which count conven.
67
N
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68    EMINENT WOMEN GF THE AGE.
tionalism and dclilettanteism; and it is an admirable town to
emigrate from, because of these notwithstandiings.
The stern Puritan traditions and social prejudices of the
place seem not to have entered very strongly into the character of Sara Willis. She probably chased butterflies on Boston Common, or picked wild strawberries (if they grew there)
on Bunker Hill, without much musing on the   grand and
heroic associations of those places.  She doubtless tripped by
Faneuil Hall occasionally, without doing honor to it, as the
august cradle of liberty.  She must have been an eminently
happy and merry child; indulging in her own glad fatncies
in the bright present, with little reverence for the past, or
apprehension for the future, - much given to mischief and
mad little pranks of fun and adventure.
Sara was educated at Hartford, in the far-famed Seminary
of Miss Catharine Beecher. At that time, Harriet Beeher,
Mrs. Stowe, was a teacher in this school.  She was amiable
and endearing in her ways, and was recognized as a decidedly
clever young, lady, with a vein of quiet humor, a sleepy sort
of wit, that woke utip and flashed out when least expected;
but of a careless, unpraetical turn of mind.  She was not
thought by any means the equal in mental power and weight
of her elder sister, whose character was full of manly energy,
who was a clear thinker, an excellent theologian, a good, great,
high-hearted woman, with a strong will and remt,4kable execuitive abilities.  Of all his children, Dr. Becelier is sahd to
hlave most ligh,lly respected Catharine.
Sara Willis miust here have laid an excellent foundation for
successful authorship, though probably nothing was farther
from her thoughts at the time than such a profession. It
would have seemed too quiet and thought-compelling a career
for her, with her heart as full of frolic as a lark's breast is of
singing. There are yet traditions in that staid old town of
Hartford, of her merry school-girl escapades, her "tricks and 
NANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
her manners," that draw forth as hearty laughter as the witty
sallies, humorous fancies, and sharp strokes of satire thatgive
to her writings their peculiar sparkle and dash.
If she grappled with the exact sciences it is not probable
that they suffered much in the encounter. For Geometry she
is said to have had an especial and inveterate dislike. Indeed, her teacher, Mrs. Stowe, still tells a story of her having torn out the leaves of her Euclid to curl her hair with.
So she laid herself down to mathematical dreams, her fair
head bristling with acute angles, in parallelogrammatic and paralellopipedonic.papillotes, -in short, with more Geometry
outside than in.  A  novel way of getting over "the dunce
bridge," by taking that distasteful Fifth Proposition not only
inwardly, but as an outward application; so that it might have
read thus:  "The angles at the base of an isosceles triangle
are equal to one another; and if the equal sides be produced
in curl papers, the angles on the other side of the os frontis
are also equal."
But in the laughing, high-spirited girl there must have existed unsuspected by those about her, almost unsuspected by
herself, the courage and energy, the tenderness, the large
sympathy, the reverence for the divine and the human, which
love and sorrow, the trials and stress of misfortune, were to
evolve from her nature, and which her genius was to reveal.
A seer that might have perceived towering above the ringleted
head of her absent-minded young teacher, a dark attendant
spirit, benignant, but mournful, - poor, grand, old worldbewept, polyglotted Uncle Tom, -  might also have seen in
the few shadowy recesses of her young pupil's sunny character, the germs of those graceful " Fern Leaves" that were
to bring to the literature of the people new vigor and verdure, the odors of woodlands, and exceeding pleasant pictures of nature.
It must have been while Sara was at school in Ijartford,
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that her brother Nathaniel began to be famous as a poet.  In
that unlikely place, Yale College, he seems to have had a
period of religious enthusiasm, or sentiment, and his scriptural poems were the result.  They have always continued to
be his most popular productions, but they are far from being
his best. They are Scripture diluted, though diluted with
rose-water. The young schoolgirl must have had a sister's
pride in this handsome, brilliant brother, in the golden dawn
of his fame. And here, let one whom he once befriended
add this slight tribute to the poet's memory: What though
his life did not wholly fulfil the promise of its fair morning,?
It was a life marlred by many a generous act, though beset by
more than ordinary temptations to utter worldliness and egotism, - a life that gladdened with its best thoughts and most
brilliant fancies lives less fortunate, and yet perhaps less sacld.
His genius delighted us long,; for his faults, who, standing
over his grave, feels true and earnest and blameless enough
to sternly condemn him?
Miss Willis, soon after leaving school, married Mr. Eldridge, of Boston, and for several years lived in ease and
comfort, and, what was far better, in domestic happiness.
Three daughters were born to her, and the wondrous experience of motherhood must have come to her to exalt, yet subdue the passionate impulses and the undisciplined forces of
her nature. Doubtless life with the new gladness, put on
new solemnity; with the new riches, must have come humility.
Love had done much for Sara Eldridge, maternity more;
but she needed yet another heavenly teacher and helper,one no less benignant than they, but stern of aspect, mysterious, relentless, - Death. He descended on that happy little
household, "the angel with the amaranthine wreath," and the
husband and father "was not."  Again he descended and
bore away the first born, - a lovely, spiritual little girl, who 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
in numbering over her bright, blameless years, could only
say, "Seven times one are seven."
Then came a weary beating out against the heavy sea of
sorrow, of that dismantled pleasure-boat of a life, with one
poor, grieving, inexperienced soul at the oars, and still such
a precious freight of helpless love and childish dependence!
Behind was the lee-shore of despair; beneath cold, bitter,
merciless want, and very faintly in the horizon shone the
fair, firm land.
It is not for me to paint the cruel anxieties and perplexities
of the widowed mother, - of a proud, independent woman,
who could not ask for the help, withheld with what seemed
to her unnatural indifference. The experience doubtless infused into a nature generous and frank, but strongly passionate in both its loves and resentments, an element of defiant,
almost fierce, bitterness and hate, which caused it to be condemned by some whose good opinion would have been worth
the gaining, and applauded by others whose praise brought
no honor.  But such an infusion of deadly night-shade juice
as misanthropy and estrangement from friends once held
most dear, could not long poison a mentall organization so
healthy as hers; it had a quick, fiery run through her blood,
struck, once or twice, with deadly effect, and was gone.
It must be that her clear reasonable mind, seeing the swift,
stern flight of the unrecallable days, must soon have felt that
"Life is too short for such things as these," as poor Doug,las
Jerrold said, when extending his hand to a friend from whom
he had been for some time separated by a misunderstanding,
-" an estrangement for which," said that noble friend, Charles
Dickens, with generous tenderness, "I was the one to blame."
In 1851 "Fanny Fern" was born into literary life. Au
essay was penned by the widowed mother, on whose heart
lay a great burden of loving care. That care was her inspiration, her desperate hope.  Her muses were a couple of
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curly-haired little maidens, in short frocks, who, in that gay
unconsciousness of young girlhood, so charming, yet so exasperating, called innocently for new frocks, cloaks, and hats,
kid gloves, slippers, ribbons, and French candies. So an
essay was penned,- a little essay it was, I believe, measured
by paragraphs and lines, but it was in reality "big, with the
fate" of Fanny and her girls. It was a venture quite as important to its author as was the first "Boz" sketch to Charles
Dickens, or as was "Jane Eyre "to Charlotte Bronte.  After
a patient trial and many rebuffs, she found, in a great city, an
editor enterprising, or charitable, enough, to publish this essay, and to pay for it, - for he was a just man, who held that
verily " the laborer is worthy of his hire,"-  to pay for itfifty centsI It is to be hoped this Meeenas found himself
none the poorer for his liberality at the end of the year.
The essay proved a hit, "a palpable hit," and was widely
copied and commented on. It was followed by others, written ill the same original, fearless style, which were gladly
received by the public, and a little better paid for by publishers.  A  few months more of patient perseverance and
earnest effort in her new field, and Fanny Fern could command her own price for her labor. Hier head was above
wvater, never again to be submerged, let us trust.
The winds of good fortune scattered those first "Fern
Leaves" far and wide, till the country was green with them
everywhere. Their peculiar dash and electrical vitality made
for the unknown author thousands of eager, questioning admirers, and literary curiosity almost mobbed the publication
office from which they emanated. Critics were not wanted,
-oh, not by any means! -critics who  charged the new
story-writer and essayist with eccentricity, flippancy, cynicism, irreverence, masculinity, -with every conceivable sin
of authorship except sentimentality, pharisaism, and prosiness.
There was an unprofessional freedom and fearlessness in her 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
style that made her very faults acceptable to that indefinite individual, "the general reader,"-an honest easy-goingc, fellow,
who is little inclined to raise fine points in regard to an author's manner of expression, provided the feeling be all right.
I remember thinking, that this bold rival was poaching a
little on my own "merrie" Greenwood preserves; but as I
watched her cool proceedings, saw how unerringo was her
aim, and with what an air of proprietorship she bagged her
game, I declined to prosecute, and went to Europe.  When
I returned I found she had the whole domain to herself, and
she has kept it to this day.  So mote it be!
A most astonishing instance of literary success was the first
book of " Fern Leaves," of which no less than seventy thousand copies were sold in this country alone! I wvould not
seem to detract in the slightest degree from the genius of our
author, -I would not rob her chaplet of one Fern Leaf,
but I must say she was extremely fortunate in her publisher.
Ilad she made choice of some  aristocratic  loulses, for iiistance, her books would have borne the envied Athenian
stamp, but then, regarding copies sold, the reader of this veracious biography would have read for thousands —hundreds.
But Fanny Fern, with her rare business sagacity and practical good sense, did not choose her publisher as young Toots
chose his tailor,- "Burgess & Co., fas'hnable, but very dear."
Then followed "Little Ferns, for Fanny's Little Friends,"
-whose names seem to have been Legion, for there were no
less than thirty-two thousand of these young Fern gathierers.
Then canie a "Second Series of Fern Leaves," in number
thirty thousand. Total, - one hundred and thirty-t?vo thousand!  I write it out carefully, for not having a head for
figures, I am almost sure to make some mistake if I meddle
with them. Moreover, these American Ferns, fresh and odorous with the freedom and spirit of the New World, took
quick root in England, and spread and flourished like the
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American rhododendron. The mother country took for British home consumption forty-eight thousand copies, and much
good did they do our little cousins, I doubt not.
In 185  "Ruth Hall" (I had almost said Ruth-less Ihall)
was published.  In 1857 "Rose Clarke," —a kindlier book.
These are, I believe, the only novels of F.tnny Fern.   They
were eagerly read, much commented upon, and had, like the
"Leaves," a large sale.  They were translated into French
and German.
In 1856 Falnny Fern was married to Mr. James Parton, of
New York; a man of brilliant, but eminently practical, ability as a writer.  It was a marri.age that seemed to the world
to promise, if not happiness of the most romantic type, much
hearty good fellowship, with mutual aid and comfort. Both
were authors whose provinces bordered on Bohemia.  They
had apparently many tastes and characteristics in common;
they were both acute, independent thinkers, rather than students or philosophers; they were rather special pleaders
than reasoners, - rather wits than logicians. The style of
each writer has decidedly improved of late years; yet neither
has lost in individuality by this happy consolidation of provinces.  Mr. Partoil's style has gained much in nerve and
terseness, and even more in polish.  Mrs. Parton's has more
softness than of old, with no less vigor; it shows a surer
grasp on, yet a more delicate handling of, thought; she does
not startle as frequently as in her first essays, but she oftener
pleases.
Five years ago sorrow came again to this brightened and
prosperous life. It came like a relentless ploughshare, and
every smiling hope and ripe ambition went under for a time.
It came like a volcanic sea-rise on a fair day, sweeping over
the firm land of assured good fortune. A beloved daughter, a young wife and mother, died suddenly, leaving an infant child, for whose dear sake that brave soul gathered up all 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
its forces and staggered up, and on.  To this young life,
bought with a price," this frail flower, born ill anguish and
nurtured with tears, Fanny Fern has since devoted herself
with more than a mother's tender solicitude.  In this work,
as in household duties, she has been- efficiently aided and
supported by her sole remaining ldaughter.
Mrs. Parton has been from the first a most acceptable writer
for children.  Her motherhood, a true motherhood of the
heart, has given her the clue to the most mysterious, angelguarded labyrinths of a child's soul. She is the faithful interpreter of children, from the poor "tormented baby," on its
nurse's knee, trotted, and tickled, and rubbed, and smothered,
and physicked,- all the way up through the perils, difficutlties, and exceeding bitter sorrows of childhood, out of short
firocks and roundabouts, into the rosy estate of young womanhood and the downy-lipped dignity of  young manhood.
Having a heart of perennial freshn;iess, full of spontaneous
sympathies and enthusiasms, she never gets so far away froul
her own youth that she cannot feel a thrill of kindred delilght in
looking on the pleasures of the young, -on their bright, glad,
eag,er faces.  Bulwver says, "Young girls are very charmilng
creatures, except when they get together and fall a-giling."
Now I will venture to say this is just the time when Fanny
Fern likes them best, -unless, indeed, the giggling is illtimed, and therefore ill-mannered.  In a scene of festal light,
bloom, and music, of glancing and dancing young figures,
she would never stand aside in the gloom of dark shrubbery,
hard and cold and solemnly envious, like the tomb in a certain landscape of Poussin, bearing the inscription, "I also
once lived amid the delights of Arcadia."
Yet, while ready to rejoice in the innocent mirth and exultant hopes of youth, this true woman can also feel a tender
charity for its follies, and a yearning pity for its errors. No
poor unfortunate in her utmost extremity of shame and mad
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76    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
abandonment, need fear from her lips a word of harsh rebuke,
from her eyes a look of lofty scorn or merciless condemnation. But for the heartless wrong-doer, for the betrayer of
an innocent, though ever so foolish, trust, - for the despoiler
of hearts and homes, she has rebukes that scathe like flame,
and scorn that bites like frost.
WVith a healthy reverence for all truly devout souls, all earnest, humble, practical Christians,- for all things essentially
pure and venerable,- Fanny Fern has an almost fierce hatred of cant, of empty pomp and formalism, assuming the
name of religion. She valiantly takes sides with God's poor
agilnst the most powerful and refined pharisaism. She would
evidently rather sit down to worship with the " old salts," in
Father Taylor's Seaman's Chapel, than in the most gorgeously
upholstered pew, under the most resplendent stained windows, in the highest high church on Fifth Avenue.  Not that
she is wanting in a poet's sensuous delight in bright colors,
rich textures, beautiful, refined faces, grand music and noble
church-architecture, but that in the lives of the poor, colorless, homely, ungraceful, almost blindly aspiring and devout,
there is something that moves her heart more tenderly and
yet more solemnly.  41n "the low, sad music of humanity"
there is something that touches a higher than the poetic sense;
and to her the humblest Christian soul, simnple and ignorant,
but trusting and loving, is a gracnder temple of God than the
Cathedral of Milan, with its wondrous Alp-like peaks of
snowy architecture, sentinelled with sculptured saints.
Another noticeable characteristic of Fanny Fern is her
hearty contempt for all pretensions, affectations, and dainty
sillinesses; be they social, literary, or artistic.  ShQ is eminently a womtan "with no nonsense about her."  She detests
shamns of all sorts, and sentimentality, French novels and
French phrases. Almost as fiercely as she hates cant, she
hates snobbery.   Het honest American blood boils at the 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
sio,ht of a snob, and she never fails soundly to " chastise him
with the valor of her tongue."  For that unnatural little mnonster, that anomaly and anachronism, an American fiunkey,
even her broadest charity can entertain no hope, either for
here, or hereafter.
Thoug,h whole-hearted in her patriotism, Fanny Fern is niot
a political bigot. She probably does not aver that she was
born in New England at her " own particular request; " she
has found that life is endurable out of Boston; she would
doubtless admit that it can be borne with Christian philosophy out of Gotham, - even in small provincial towns, in which
the " Atlantic Monthly" and " New York Ledger" are largely
subscribed for.  When here, she was enou,ghl of a cosmopolitan to praise our great city market, - uttering among, some
pleasant things, this rather dubious compliment:  "VWhat
have these Philadelphians done, that they should have such
butter?"  Done? -lived virtuously, dear Fanny,-refused to
naturalize the "Black Crook," or to send prize-fighters to
Congress.
But to return.  Not because of the happy accident of her
birth, does Fanny Fern stand gallantly up for our America;
but because it is what it is,- the hope, the refuige, the sure
rock of defence for the poor and oppressed of all nations,their true El Dorado, their promised land.
Mrs. Parton is now, if parish registers, family records, and
biographers do not lie, fifty-seven years old.  But time which
has done "its spiriting gently" with the style of the writcr,
softening and refining it, cannot have touched the woman
roughly, or drawn very heavy drafts on her energy and vital ity; for they wNho have seen her within a late period, speak of
her as yet retaining all the spirit and wit of what are called
"a womanl's best days," but which were, to her, days of care,
trial, and toil, that would have borne down a heart less brave,
and prostrated an organization less healthful.  She must have
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78     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
had from the first a rare amount of "muscular Christianity"
-must have been a conscientious self-care-taker -  must have
lived wisely and prudently, - in short, must have kept herself well "in hand," or she would have gone down in some of
the ugly ditches, or stuck in some of the hurdles she has
had to leap in this desperate race of a quarter of a century.
Some New York paragraphist tells of having encountered
her on Broadway, a short time since,- not as usual, walking
with a hurried and haughty tread, the elastic step of an Indian
princess, of the school of Cooper, - but pausing, after a man.
ner quite as characteristic, to talk to a lovely baby in its
nurse's arms; and, our amiable Jenkins relates, her face then
and there shone with the very rapture of admiration and unforgotten maternal tenderness, melting through its mask of
belligerent pride and harshness, and in that wonderful transfiguring, glow,seemed to wear the very look of the time when
it first hung over a little cradle, or nestled dowi against a
little baby-face, in the happy long ago.  Yet it had looked on
many a dear coffilned face since then.
Fanny Fern has been the subject of many piquant Slid
amusing anecdotes, some of them, perhaps most of them,
haviang a foundation in fact, - for she is a person of too much
spirit and character not to have noteworthy things happening
to her and round about her rather frequently. Hers is a stirring, breezy life, to which anything like a dead calm is im
possible. She is too swift and well freighted a craft not to
leave a considerable wake behind her. She sails with all her
canvas spread, by a chart of her own, so occasionally dashes
saucily athwart the bows of steady-going old ships of the
line, or right under the guns of a heavy man-of-war. As
an author and woman, she consults neither authority, nor
precedent, fashion, nor policy. As woman and author, she
has always defied and despised that petty personal criticism,
that paltry gossip which is the disgrace of American journal 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
isii; which insists on discussing the author's or artist's most
private and intimate life, -his domestic relations, his holiest
affections, his most sacred human wealknesses and virtues, -
on unveiling every sanctuary of sorrow, and following a poor
wounded soul into its last fastnesses of decent reserve.
Among the most spicy anecdotes of my sublject ever set
floating about the country, is one of her having smashed, with
her own vengeful hand, the china-set in her room, at the Girard House in Philadelphia, - because, after honorably reporting the accidental breaking of a bowl, she found herself
charged a round sum for the entire toilet-set..This story we
of a fun-loving and justice-loving household, have laughed
over many times; but, as poor Beatrice Cenci stys, "We
shall not do it any more;" for alas, the story isn't true!that is, as to the grand dramatic denouement.  Wishing to
chronicle only the exact truth in a matter of so much imlportance, I addressed to Mrs. Parton a letter of inquiry, and received in reply the following succinct statement  -
Mr. Parton and I had been stopping at the Girard House,
and just as we were about starting for the cars, I said,' Wait
till I wash my hands.' As I did so, the bowl slipped from
my soapy fingers, and was broken.  I said,' Report that when
you pay the bill, lest the blame should come upon the poor
chambermaid;' whereupon, to my intense disgust, the landlord charged for the whole toilet-set I Then, in my indignation, I did say to Mr. Parton,'I have a good mind to send
all the rest of the set flying out of the window I'  His less
impetuous hand stayed me.   I assure you it was no virtue
of milne. My blood is quick and warm."
This frank account spoils an excellent story, and shows us
how meanness and injustice again went unpunished, after the
manner of this miserable, mismanaged world,which it will take
many a Fannly Fern and much crockery-smashing to set r,ght.
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80     EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE.
Fourteen years ago Fanny Fern made an engagement with
Mr. Bonner, of the "New'York Ledger," to furnish an article every week for his journal, - that giant among literary
weeklies, but by no means a weakly giant, of tlhe Pickleson
order, with a "defective circulation," nor even of the style of
the seven league-booter, and freebooter of fairy lore; but
rather of the type of the Arabian genii, who were anywhere
and everywhere at once.
Fourteen years ago, Fanny Fern made an engagement with
Mr. Bonner, to furnish an article every week for the "Ledger,"
and "thereby hangs a tale," the most wonderful fact in this
veracious biography:  Behold! from that time to this, she
has neverfailed one week to produce the stipulated article, on
time/ Think, my reader, what this fact proves! what habits
of industry, what system, what thoughtfulness, what business
integrity, what super-woman punctuanlty, and 0 MinervaHygeia! what health!
Aspasia was, Plato says, the preceptress of Socrates; she
formed the rhetoric of Pericles, and was said to have composed some of his finest orations; but she never furnished an
article every week for the "Ledger" for fourteen years.
Hypatia taught mathematics and the Philosophy of Plato,
in the great school of Alexandria, through most learned and
eloquent discourses; but she never furnished an article for
the "Ledger" every week for fourteen years.
Elena Lucrezia Comoso Piscopia,'- eminently a woman
of letters,- manfully mastered the Greek, Latin, Arabic,
Hebrew, Spanish, and French; wrote astronomical and
mathematical dissertations, and received a doctor's degree from
the University of Padua; Laura Bassi, Novella d'Andrea,
and Matelda Tambroni were honored with degrees, and filled
professors' chairs in the University of Bologna; but as far
as I have been able to ascertain, by the most careful researches, not one of these learned ladies ever furnished an 
PFANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
article for the "Ledger" every week  for fourteen years.
Coriuna, for her improvisations, was crowned at the Capitol
in Rome with the sacred laurel of Petrarch and Tasso; but
she never furnished an article every week for the "Ledger"
for fourteen years.
Miss Burney, Miss Porter, Mrs. Radcliffe, Miss Austin,
Miss Baillie, Miss Mitford, Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs.
Marsh, Mrs. Gaskell, and the Bronltes did themselves and
their sex great honor by their literary labors; but not one
of them ever furnished an article for the "Ledger" every
week for fourteen years. Neither Mrs. Lewes nor Mrs.
Stowe could do it, Georg,e Sand wouldn't do it, and Heaven
forbid that Miss Braddon should do it! I
Why, to the present writer, who is given to undertaking a
good deal more than she can ever accomplish; who is always
surprised by publication-day; who postpones every literary
work till the last hour of grace, and then, a little longer; who
requires so much of self-coaxing, and backing, to get into the
traces, after a week or so of freedom and grass,- all this
systematic purpose, this routine, and rigid exactitude, is simply
amazing,- it verges on the marvellous, - it is Ledger-demaitn.
Ah, Fanny, is then your Pegasus always saddled, and bridled, and whinnying in the court?  Is the steam always up
in that tug-boat of a busy brain?  Is the wine of your fancy
never on the lees?  Are there no house-cleaning days in your
calendar?  Don't your country friends ever come to town and
drop in on your golden working-hours? Are there no autogrTlaph-hunters about your doors?   Do not fond mammas
ever send in their babies to deliciously distract you on a
Ledger" day?  Do your dear five. hundred friends always
respect it, and postpone their weddings, musical matinees
and other mournful occasions?  Does the paper-hanger never
put you to rout?  Do you never have a bout with your sew
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82    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ing-machine and get your temper ruffled?  Does not that
wonderful wean," that darling grandchild, dainty little Effie,
ever have a fit of naughtiness, or whooping-cough, or a tumble downstairs, on that day? Don't you ever long, on just
that day, to lie on the sofa and read Thackeray? Ah, do not
wars and influenzas, national crises and kitchen imbroglios,
disappointed hopes and misfitting dresses, an instinctive
rebellion against regulations and resolutions, even of your
own making, ever interfere with your writing for the "Ledger"? Doubtless you have been tempted, in times of hurry,
or languor, in journeyings and dog-day heats, to break your
agreement; but an honest fealty to a generous publisher has
hitherto constrained you to stand by; and we like you for it.
Other publishers may be bon, but he is Bonner.   So you do
not demean yourself by following the triumphal chariot of his
fortunes (Dexter's trotting wagon) like Zenobia in chains,
-since the chains are of gold.
As a writer of brief essays and slight sketches, Fanny
Fern excels.   She seems always to have plenty of small
change in the way of thoughts and themes. She knows well
how to begin without verbiage, and to end without abruptness. She starts her game without much beating about the
bush.  She seems to measure accurately the subject and the
occasion, and wastes no words, - or, as poor Artemus Ward
used to say, never "slops over." As a novelist, she is somewhat open to the charge of exaggeration, and she is not sufficiently impersonal to be always artistic.  Her own fortunes,
loves, and hates live again in her creations, - her heroines are
-her doubles. As a moralist, she is liable to a sort of uncharitable charity and benevolent injustice. In her stout championship of the poor, of the depressed and toil-worn  many,
she seems to harden her heart against the small, but intelligent, rich but respectable, portion of our population, known
as''Upper-tendom."  Can any good thing come out of Fifth 
FANNY FERN-MRS. PARTON.
Aveniue? is the spirit of many of her touching little sketches.
She seems to think that the scriptural comparison of the difficult passage of the camel through the eye of the needle settled the case of Mr. Crcesus.  Her tone is sometimes a little
severe and cynical when treating of the shortcomiings of the
world of fashion. It is so easy to criticise from the safe
position of a philosopher or poet; but how many of us
would dare to answer for our Spartan simplicity and moderation, and our Christian charity and benevolence,-virtues
which of course we all now possess in abundance, - should fortune take a sudden turn, open for us her halls of dazzling light,
provide for us ample changes of purple and fine linen, of the
fashionable cut, wine and strong drink, and terrapin suppers, chariots, and horses, yachts, opera-boxes, diamonds,
and French bonnets?
Fanny Fern herself regrets that she has not been able to
give more careful study to her writing,- to concentrate here,
and elaborate there, - to be, in short, always the artist. She
has done many things well,- she mi,ghlt have done a few things
surpassingly well.  But she has, I doubt not, written out of
an honest heart always, earnestly and fearlessly, - written
tales, sketches, letters, essays spiced with odd fancies, satire,
and humor, - some exquisitely tender and pitiful, some
defiant and belligerent in tone; but none with a doubtful
moral ring about them.  She has chosen to feed the multitude
on the plain with simple, wholesome food, rather than to pour
nectar for the Olympians. Hecr genius is practical and democratic, and so has served the people well, and received a
generous reward in hearty popular favor.  She has probably
not accomplished the highest of which she is capable, but all
that the peculiar exigencies of her life have permitted her to
accomplish. In faithfully doing the work nearest to her hand
she may be consoled by the consciousness that art has been
shouldered aside by duty alone.   Speaking of her little
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EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
grand-daughter, in a private letter, she says: "Our little
Effie has never been left with a servant, and, although to carry
out such a plan has involved a sacrifice of much literary work,
or its unsatisfactory incompleteness, I am not and never shall
be sorry. She is my poem."
By these things we may see that whatever masks of manly
independence, pride, or mocking mischief Fannly Feln may
put on, she is, at the core of her nature, "pure womanly."
I have written this article with little more personal knowledg,e of Mrs. Parton than I have been able to obtain from
brief biographical sketches, and the recollections and impressions of friends.  Not from choice have I so done, after the
manner of the critic, who made it a rule not to read a book
before reviewing it, for fear of being "prejudiced;" but because I have never been so fortunate as to cross orbits with
my brilliant, but somewhat erratic subject. Her life has
been attempted many times; indeed, literary biographers seem
to be under the impression that "the oftener this wonderful
woman is repeated the better," to quote from the immortal
Toots.  May that life have years enough and fame and prosperity enough to justify many other sketches, worthier than
this, before the coming of that
"Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history."
And may that scene come with tender gradations of purple
twilight shades, deepening into a night, star-lit with hope,
and sweet with love - all balm, and rest, and peace; "the
peace of God which passeth all understanding."
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--—;  ----------
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- -- ---- -------.....
ii;                                  ___________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ —------
i;'~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~........' 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
BY REV. E. B. HUNTINGTON.
WERE any intelligent American citizen now asked to name
the American woman, who, for a quarter of a century before
1855, held a higher place ill the respect and affections of the
American people than any other woman of the times had
secured, it can hardly be questioned that the prompt reply
would be, MRs. LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY.
And this would be the answer, not simply on the ground
of her varied and extensive learning; nor on that of her
acknowledged poetic gifts; nor on that of her voluminous
contributions to our current literature, both in prose and
verse; but rather, because with these gifts and this success,
she had with singular kindliness of heart made her very lifeworkl itself a constant source of blessing and joy to others.
Her very goodness had made her great.  Her genial goodwill had given her power.  Her loving friendliness had made
herself and her name everywhere a charm.  So that, granted
that other women could be named, more gifted in some endowments, more learned in certain branches, and even more
ably represented in the literature of the times; still, no one
of them, by universal consent, had succeeded in winningi, so
largely the esteem and admiration of her age.
It is of this woman that we need not hesitate to write,
when we would make up our list of the representative women
of our times.  She was a woman so rare, we need not?iesi
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86     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
tate to claim it, for her native gifts, and still more, so genial
and lovable, in deed and spirit, that her very life seemed a
sort of divine benediction upon our age.  And who, more
worthily than she, can represent to us the best and highest
type of cultivated womanhood?
LYDIA HOWAnD I-IuNTLEY, the only child of Ezekiel and
Sophia  (Wentworth) Huntley, was born in Norwich, Connlecticut, Sept. 1, 1791. In her parentage and birthplace we
have no indistinct prophecy of her future life.  Their lessons,
wrought into the very texture of her sensitive souil, served as
the good genius of her long and bright career.  She could
never forget or deny them.  Their precious memory was to
her a perpetual and exceeding joy.
Witness this sweet picture of her early home, drawn by her
own child-hand, yet, even so early, foreshowing the lifelong
brightness of her loving spirit: -
"My gentle kitten at my footstool sings
Her song, monotonous and full of joy.
Close by my side, my tender mother sits,
Industriously bent-her brow still bright
With beams of litngering youth, while he, the sire,
The faithful gulde, indulgently doth smile."
What but a blessed influence over her could such a home
have had? And we shall not wonder, when, fifty years later,
we find her filial hand sketching, so exquisitely, the "beaming smile," and "the love and patience sweet," with which
those dear names were embalmed.   Few, very few, have
borne with them through life, so freshly and so lovingl,y, the
forms and the affections of their home-friends.  The impression they made upon her must have been exceedinigly precious
to her heart; and so her affectionate love kept faithful vigil
over these dearest treasures of her memory.
Hardly less forceful than these home-ilftuences, must have
been the beautiful and romantic sceneries, and the genial 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
social life of her native town. It could but have stirred and
educated such a soul as hers to have spent her childhood
amid   such scenes:
" Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark,
Leaping rills, like the diamond spark,
Torrent voices, thundering by,
Where the pride of the vernal floods swelled high."
It is her own testimony which reveals to us the power of
these home-charms over her life, - a testimony given, when,
to use her own felicitous figure, she was now "journeying
towards the gates of the WVest":  "Yet came there forth from its beauty a silent, secret influence, moulding the heart to happiness, and love of the
beneficent Creator."
And still again she records their power:
"We have garnered those charms and attractions that bring
A spell o'er our souls when existence was young."
So nurtured, we can understand the secret of that love for
Norwich and its scenery which she never failed to show to
her latest day.  It only needed an invitation to her to revisit
the "dear old places" of her childhood, to kindle anew the
fervors of more than her childhood joy:
"We accept, we will come, wheresoever we rove,
And wreathe round thy birthday our honor and love.
We love thee, we love thee; thy smile, like a star,
Hiath gleamed in our skies, though our homes were afar."
Added to the affection of her parents, and to these sweet
charms of her native town, was still another, and a veiy
marked home-influence, which was destined to prove educationlal to her. Madame Lathrop, one of the noblest of the
many worthy Norwich matrons of that day, a daughter of
Governor Talcott, of Hartford, and widow of Daniel Lathrop,
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a wealthy and accomplished citizen of Norwich, had made
her own elegant and hospitable home that also of the Huntley
family.  She took great interest in Lydia, and drew strongly
to her own the heart of the sensitive girl.  And did she not,
in the daily communing of their souls, leave somewhat of her
own noble spirit of self-denial and rich charity as fruitful
seed in that young heart?  What other proof do we need
than tha" which comes from the oft-repeated testimony of the
child herself, even down to her latest years?  Let her sketch
for us, in her own sweet way, the record of this blessed inlfluence over her character and life: -
"A fair countenance, a clear blue eye, and a voice of music
return to me as I recall the image of that venerated lady over
whom more than threescore and ten years had passed ere I
saw the light. Her tall, graceful form, moving with elastic
step through the parterres whose numerous flowers she superintended, and her brow raised in calm meditation from the
sacred volume she was readingl, were to me beautiful.  The
sorrowful came to be enlightened by the sunbeam that dwelt
in her spirit, and the children of want to find bread and a
garment.  The beauty of the soul was hers that waxeth not
old.  Love was in her heart to all whom God had made.  At
her grave I learned my first lesson of a bursting grief that
has never been forgotten.  Let none say that the aged die
unloved or unmourned by the young."
It must have been an influence of great power which such
a character wielded over such a nature; and we cannllot wonder that, long years after that hallowed intimacy, we find the
grateful child thus recording her remembrance of it:  "The
cream of all my happiness was a loving intercourse with venerable old age."  Nor can we deny her the dutiful joy of
dedicating one of her earliest publications, as "an offering 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
of gratitude to her whose influence, like a golden thread, had
run through the whole woof of my life."
It was under influences like these that her life had its
dawning.  Exceedingly sensitive and impressible, she readily
responded to their power.  They found her a keen observer,
and a very rapid learner.  Her infancy seems to have been
like the later childhood of most girls, and her girlhood wore
the thoughtfulness and reached the attainments of ordinary
womanhood.
The insight into this earliest period of her life, which her
"Letters of Life" so artlessly give its, is one of the most
curious pages in our autobiographic literature.   We  have
here, perhaps, the most unaffected and  childlike  prattle
about child-life, iu the latnguagte of doting old age.  Possibly
there maiy be something excessive in the coloring given to
the whole picture; but surely we can afford to let the penl of
old age use the freedom which a warm  heart, warming anew
amid the scenes and play-places of its young life, might dictate.  Let the venerated authoress, if in her deep joy she
recalls the events which seemed so important to her young
fancy, tell the whole story, which once she might have hesitated to do, and which other authors, more careful to prune
their tlhoughts to the accepted proprieties, would  not assuredly have done.  It certainly cannot harmn us to be made, once
in our lives, familiar in letters with the very precocities, if
you will, which are so oftenl seenl in bright children, yet
which we do not usually elevate to the dignity of the printed
page.
If she speaks of the little attempts at conversation made in
the first year of her life, have we not all heard and been charmed
with hearing the same thing in our own little ones?  If she
details even the prattle, and the occasional wise and over scholarly sayings or fancies of her third summer among the
flowers, why not give her credit for what, tho-ugh perhaps not
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90     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
very common, is still plainly pos;sil)le to a child of g,ifts,
especially if she has spent her first three years under the
most helpful of influences? It need not be counted an offence
if she tell us over what nobody else will be likely to tell us,
-the whole story of her doll-teachiig, and training.  It is a
pretty picture which that same scene makes when acted in all
of our homes, and why should not its sketch, whether by the
pencil of the artist or the pen of the writer, charm us too?
But is there not, also, in this the very best of sense? How
it aids us to understand the woman, to see the little one with
her dolls around her, and hear her begin there her vwork of
persuasion and authority! It instructs as well as chlarms us
to visit the artless child in her " spacious garret;" to note her
curious search among its gathered household treasures; to
find her settling herself down like the bee to its flower-food,
as she finds an old hymn-book there; to see her hearty love
for the " large black horse," "the red-coat cows," "the crowing, brooding, and peeping poultry," and the "pliant pussy"
which sat in her lap or sported by her side, and whichl was
"as a sister" to her.  It will instruct us, where we shall need
light, to roam awhile with the laughing babe and child, "firom
garden to garden;" to run with her  at full speed through
the alleys;" to recline by her side, "when wearied, in some
shaded recess," or even on the "mow of hay in the large,
lofty barn," where we can together "watch the quiet cows over
their fiag,rant food;" and then to sit down with her at the
fitmily table, and taste with her of the bread so sweet, "made
in capacious iron basins."  Suppose, in this way, we learn
how early and how regular her meals were; how uniform and
simple the diet on which she was reared; and how exact and
respectful and decorous the behavior of that hour. Do not
all of these lessons explain the character which they so certainly help to form? And so we may well thank the authoress
of seventy years that she allowed herself to recall, for our 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
delight and instruction, those germinal forces of hei favored
childhood.
Let us now follow this child, as she prepares herself for
the life-wvork before her.  At four years of age we find her
in the school nearest to the house of her parents; and we
only learn of that first school, that its " spelling-classes" were
the clief delight of the child.  Trivial as this fact is, it gives
us no unmeanicng hint.  Her second teacher, a gentleman,
perhaps the teacher of the winter school, won the child to the
use of the pen, and laid the foundation of that distinct, printlike chirography which was so serviceable to her whole future
career.   Next, the teacher of needle-work does her good
service by starting her well in this feminine art, of which she
made later the best of use.   And now comes the young
ladies' school, under an English lady of varied accomplishment; and here she makes a good beginning in music and
painting and embroidery.  And here, too, we get valuable
hints, and it would well repay us, had we time, to watch the
child in the beginning of her art-life.  It was  flill of meaning, —that extemporized studio at home, that "piece of gamboge," that "fragment of indigo, begged of the  washerwoman," those coffee-grounds to give the ambered brown, and
those child-experiments, again and again repeated, to secure
desired tints.  WTe may note, too, about this time, how the
literary taste and enthusiasm of the child was aroused. Hiow
life-like was its beginnin,g! She started a story, which the
record does not finish; for they all said it was too much for
her.  She was "only just eight years old."
Next we find her in the school of a graduate of Dublin,
and here she makes rapid progress in mathematics. Her next
step forward, in the school on the Green, under an educated
and veteran teacher, places her at the head of the readingclasses. Then, under the training of Mr. Pelatiah Perit, who
became so eminent amnong the business men of the country,
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she spent another year of successful study.  Pursuiing still
the English classics and Latin, she finished in her fourteenth
year her school-life at home. Then followed a course of
domestic training in the duties of house-keeping, yet not so
pressingly as to hinder the private study of the Latin.  For
the higher ornamental branches she spent parts of two years in
Ilartford; and, with more than ordinary mental activit and
attainment, she takes leave of her school-life.   Yet, sulch
was her thirst for learning, that nothing  could hinder her
studies; and we find her, wvith the enthusiasm of a scholar,
devoting her later girlhlood to the study of even the original
Hebrew of the Christian Scriptures.
And now begins her career as teacher, - a life which she
seems to have chosen scarcely more for want of somethling
to do than from love of teaching itself.  Her first experiment
had been made in her fathler's house, and the result confirmed
her purpose to make it her life-work.   In her nineteenth
year, in company with iMiss Nancy M. Hyde, a very intimate
friend, she opened a select school for girls in Chelsea, now
Norwich City.  Her interest in the work was very great, and
her success no less so.  We can readily accept her later testimony that she found her daily employment "less a toil than
privilege."  But, through the influence of M1r. Daniel Wadsworth, of Hartford, she was induced to establish for herself
a private school for girls in that city; and, in 1814, she entered uponl its duties.
During the five years she remained in this school she won
a twofold reputation.  Her success as teacher was well-nigh
unparalleled for the times, and descrvingly so; while her
influence over the social circles of the city had become  no
less marked.  Her influence over her pupils was something
wonderful. They loved her with a love which nothing could
repress; and their devotion was as true and lasting, as their
love.  What testimnony to the streng,th of her hold upon 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
themn those annual reunions on their commencement day
furnishes!  Even long years after they had become scattered
over the land, those days were held sacred in their hearts.
And when their little ones began to gather about them, they,
too, were taken to the hallowed place, that on them also
might fall the sweet influence which had so long blessed their
mothers.
But, from the very beginning of her life in Hartford, she
made for herself a place in the confidence and affections of
the people, which every successive year only served to confirm.  She became, in the just language of as high authority
as the venerable S. G. Goodrich, "the presiding genius of its
young social circle," and she was never called in her lon(g
career to vacate that post of honor.
It was while thus winning her way as teacher that she also
began her public literary life. At the urgent request of her
friend, Mr. Wadsworth,  she  consented to issue her first
volume, entitled, "Pieces ill Prose and Verse." This work
was printed in 1815, at the expense of Mr. Wadsworth.
And the list of subscribers, which was also printed, indicates
thus early the reputation which newspaper publicity had
given her.
But another event soon interrupts her career as teacher.
Charles Sig,ourney, a merchant of the city, a gentleman of
wealth and literary culture and high social position, solicits
and wins her hand.  Their marriage was celebrated in the
Episcopal church of her native town, in the early summer of
1819.  Mr. Sigourney, of Huguenot descent, was already a
communicant in the Episcopal church; and, on her miarriage,
Mlrs. Sigourney, who, since 1809, had been a devoted Christian and a member of the Congregational church, felt it to be
her privilege and duty to transfer her membership to the
church to which her husband belonged.
This marriage threw upon Mrs. Sigourney the care of the
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three children of her husband by a former wife; and that
care was assumed with a singular devotion to their comnfort and welfare; and in this field only did she find room
henceforth for her gifts as teacher. But both her position at the head of the first circle in the leading, metropolis
of the State, and her means, and the culture of her husband,
conspired to encourage her in the literary field in which she
was now winning, such a triumph. Besides the volume printed
in 1815, in 1816 she had published her "Life and Writings
of Nancy Maria Hyde," an interesting tribute to the memory
of her most intimate friend and fellow-teacher; and during
the year of her marriag,e appeared, also, "The Square Table,"
a pamphlet designed as a corrective of what were deemed
the harmful tendencies of "Arthur's Round Table," which
was then exciting considerable attention in the community.
From this date to that of her death our record must be
that of an earnest woman, filling up every hour of her day
with its allotted duty, cheerfully and nobly done. Few
women have been so diligent workers, few have maintained
such fervency of spirit, and few have, in all their working,
so faithfully served the Lord.
Her position, that of second wife and step-mother, has not
always been found an easy one to fill; yet, even with the
temptations which her literary tastes might be supposed to
offer, she could never be justly reproached for neglecting any
home-duty.  Bound to her friends with no ordinary ties of
affection, she lived, first of all, for them. Even her literary
life is most crowded with its witnesses to her home-love, and
indeed was largely its result.  She worked, and wrote, and
prayed, that she might faithfully meet this prime claim upon
her heart and life.
We cannot follow, in detail, this busy and painstaking
career. We find her at the head of her household, which at
times was large, shrihking from no burden or self-denial
\ 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
needed in her work, - living to see her two step-daulghters
educated and settied in life, and their brother, at the age of
forty-five, consigned to a consumptive's grave; to educate
her own daughter and son, and then, just on the verge of a
promising manhood, to follow him, too, to his grave; to care
for both her own parents, until, in a good old age, she might
tenderly hand them down to their last rest; to follow her
beloved and honored husband to his grave; to give her own
only datghter away in acceptable marriage; and then to settle herself down, joyful and trustful yet, in her own home,
vacated indeed of her loved ones, but filled still with precious
mementos of their love, until her own change should come.
These forty-six years, between her marriage and her death,
were mainly spent at her home ill Hartford. Her travels
were chiefly those of brief journeys through the Eastern and
Middle States. Once she visited Virginia, and once crossed the
Atlantic, visiting within the year the chief points of attraction
in England, Scotland, and France.  The rest of those fortysix years were most industriously employed in her own loved
home, filled up with domestic duties or with literary and
benevolent work; and it is safe to say that few women have
ever worked to better account. She won universal respect
and love.  The poor and the rich, the ignorant and the educated, alike found in her that which delighted and charmed
them; and so she came to occupy a place in their affections
which they accorded to no other.
But, doubtless, it will be as a literary woman that she will
be most widely known.   And no estimate of her career
which leaves out of the account the character and value of
her writings can do justice to her memory.   Beginning in
1815, and closiong with her posthumous " Letters of Life" in
1866, her published writings numbered fifty-seven volumes.
Besides these, our newspaper and magazine literature must
have furnished nearly as much more.  Her correspondence,
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96     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
not published, amounting to nearly one thousand seven hundred letters annually for several years, must have exceeded
largely these printed writings; so that she must have been
one of the most voluminous writers of her age.
We have not space for a critical analysis of her writings.
We would simply indicate their aim and success. Wrhatever
niay be said of their artistic execution, of one thing we are
sure, that their spirit and aim are as noble as ever inspired
human literature; and the world has already accepted them
as a worthy offering.  A sharp critical judgment must agree
with Mrs. Sigourney's own decision, that she wrote too much
for highest success, both in invention and style.  But when
we stop to ask why she wrote so much, we shall find our
answer in the very elements of her character, which contributed most to her eminence.  Her first published volume
reveals with great clearness at least these two qualities of the
writer: the strength of her affections, and her equally strong
sense of duty to others.  We feel that she wrote what her
kind heart prompted, that she might please or aid those who
seemed to her to have just claims upon her. Instead of
using the precious moments on the mere style of her expression, she was ever hurrying along on some urgent call of
affection or duty. She could not stop to think of her literary reputation when some dear friend was pleading at her
heart, or some sorrowing soul needed to be comforted.  More
than almost any other writer of the day, she wrote not for
herself, but for others.  And it is precisely here that we find
the real key, both to whatever faults of style her writings
may betray, and to the very best success of her life. For,
while she greatly blessed the multitudes for whom she so
rapidly wrote, we cannot but notice, also, how in her successive works, she is gaining both in the force and beauty of her
style.
We see on almost every page of her writings how tender 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
her spirit, how sensitive her sympathy was. From the beginning, her affections, sanctified  )y a Christian purpose, took
the lead.  We know that it was her greatest
." joy to raise
The trembler from the shade,
To bind the broken, and to heal
The wounds she never made."
But we must not dwell on these charming witnesses to the
tenderness of her loving heart.  It is easy to see that one so
rtuled, would not regard the mere style of her expression of
highest value. And yet it would do injustice to Mrs. Sig,ourney, to leave out of the account the care and painstaking,
with which she sought to make her writings most effective.
We  lknow she must have sought ease and fluency as well as
exactness and vigor of expression.  Her writings abound in
witnesses innumerable to these graces.  The call made upon
her pen from the first magazines of the day, and firom the
more solid works issuingi from our best publishing-houses,
of itself testifies to the great merit even of her style.
No critic can read that beautiful poem on the "Death of an
Infant," commencing with
"Death found strange beauty on that polished brow,
And dashed it out,"
without feeling that none but a true poet, practised in the
art, could have written it.  We might instance her "Scottish
WVeaver," " Breakfast,"  "Birthday of  Longfellow,"  "My
Stuffed Owl," "Niagara," and hundreds of other poems, in
all of which may be found  passages of great beauty and
power.   We  are sure we cannot afford, these many years,
to let those graceful, and at times exquisite, gems, drop out
of our literature; nor can we doubt that their author will
continue to rank high even among the poets of her age.
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Without space for repeating the entire list, even of her
poetic works, it is due to our readers to indicate those whlich
shall best exhibit the merits and the extent of her poetic
writings, and we believe we shall do this by naming, the eig,ht
following voltimes, with their dates:
Her Poems, 1827, pp. 228; Zinzendclorf, and other Poems,
1835, 2d edition, pp. 300; Pocahoutats, and other Poems,
1841, pp. 284; London edition, 1841, pp. 348; Select Poems,
1842, pp. 324, fourth edition, of which eilght thousand copies
had been already sold; Illustrated edition, 1848, pp. 408;
Western Home, and other Poemns, 1854, pp. 360; and Gleanings, 1860, pp. 264.
Of her prose works we can only indicate that which most
clearly establishes the writer's rank among, our very l)est prosewriters of the age.  11er "Past Meridian," given to the woild
in her sixty-fifth year, which has now reached its fourth
edition, is one of our most charming classics.  One cannot
read those delighltful pages, without gratitude that the gifted
author was spared to give us such a coronal of her useful
authorship.  It were easy to collect quite a volume of the
most enthusiastic commendations of this chlarming work; b)ut
we nmust leave it, with the assutirance that it gives a inew title
to its beloved author to a perpetual fame in English literature.
And what a testimony we also have in the reception our
authoress has received amongo even our best critics! It certainly was no mean praise, which Hart, in his selections from
the Female Prose Writers gives us, when he so graphically
and truthfully says of her writings, that they "are more like
the dew than the lightning."  Peter Parley pronounced her,
next to Willis, the most successftiul and lilberal contributor
to the Token."   Professor Cleveland, in his Comnpend of
English Literature, could not more truthfully have characterized her writings than he did, as "pure, lofty, and holy in
tendency and influence."  C. W. Everest, in his Connecticut 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
Poets, only repeats the common jtudgment ill his decision,
"Love and religion are the unvarying elements of her song."
E. P. Whipple, the very Nestor of our critics, was ol)liged to
bear testimony to the popularity of her works.  I-e speaks
of her faicility in versification, and her fluency both in thought
and language; and only claims, what all critics will easily
allow, that from the very quantity of her writing, she " hardly
does justice to her real powers."
But we need not pursue our citations of critical approval
furtber.
WVe acklnowlecldge the skill with which Mrs. Sicgourney used
our     flexible English tongue; but we still more admire, and
would never fail to honor, the deep undertone of "the still,
sad  music of hunmanity," which hallowed all her song.  We
will  let her, though unwittingly, while describing the noble
devotion of the pleading Queen Philippa, sketch herself:
"THE ADVOCATE OF SORROW, AND THE FRIEND
OF THOSE WIIHONI ALL FORSAKE."
We  cannot but return to this ruling spirit of her life,
equally unaffected and controlling in her girlhood and her
latest years. Her gifts of charity and love often exceeded the
allowance of her income which she saved for herself.
Wlhat monuments,he thus built for herself in grateful
hearts! Witness her frequent visits to the Reform School in
Mleriden.   Those delighted boys cannot soon forget that
beautiful orchard, whose thrifty trees she gave as her blessing to them; nor that last gift, the generous Easter cake,
which made that festival so joyous to them; nor, most of all,
that beautiftil smile of hers, always so radiant with her hearty
good-will and hope. Oh, there was a blessing in that presence, even for young lives that have been tempted down into
the dark shadows of a premature disgrace!
Or who shall make her presence good to the pupils of the
99 
100    EMINENT WOMEN OF THiE AGE.
Deaf and Dumb Asylum in her own city, on whose mute joy
her very looks beamed a more eloquent sympathy than our
best words can express?  Or when will the poor orphIins of
the asylums she so loved to visit forget her tenderness and
love?
Hear this good woman, even amid the painl and exhaustion
o    f  her last sickness, thoughtful still of the suffering ones who
mi, ghtt miss her timely charity, tenderly askling, morning after
,morni     ng, " Is there any gift for me to send to-day?"  Aore
touchingl y        still, as you stand over her on the very last night
of        her stay on earth, you will hear this faintly, yet clearly
uttered     wis h of the dying, woman, "I would that I might live
until morni ng, that I may, with my own hand, do Lip that
little      lac e  c ap for that dear little babe."  And so she left us,
wit          h  her    though(t of love still on those whom she was to leave
behind.          Blessed departure, that! And did she not find how
true her own sweet verse proved: -
"And thy good-morning shall be spoke
By  weet-voiced angels, that shall bear thee honme
To ihe divine Redeemer "?
And how appropriate the last lines of the last poem that
she   was permitted to write on earth,-  the  )eautiful image
of her soul to leave for us to look onil forever: -
," Heaven's peace be with you all!
Farewell! Farewell!"
Saturday morning, June 10, 1866, was the date of her
death.  Her funeral was itself a-witness to us of all that we
have claimed for her in the city where she lived and died.
Specially fitting was it, that those "children of silence " to
whom she had loved to minister, and those now doubly
orphaned little ones from the asylum, should have their place
in that mourning throng. 
LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
And after the funeral, when the papers of the city attempted
to sum up the city's loss, it was specially fitting that from the
pen of a neighbor we should have this testimony: "For fifty
years this good lady has blessed our city."
To these abundant witnesses to Mrs.  Sigourney's noble
goodness, we can only add that of her personal friend, S. G.
Goodrich, who was, also, extensively acquainted with the
best characters of the generation to which she belonged: "No
one whom I know can look back upon a long and earnest
career of such unblemished beneficence."
And how can we better close this too brief sketch of this
honored   woman,          than  in the words in which she  so well
has announced the imperishable fame of the gifted Mrs.
Hemans: -
"Therefore, we will not say
Barewell to thee; for every unborn age
Shall mix thee with its household charities.
The sage shall greet thee with his benison,
And woman shrine thee as a vestal'lame
In all the temples of her sanctity;
And the young child shall take thee by the hand
And travel with a surer step to heaven."
101 
102    EMINENT WOIE~N OF THE AGE.
MIRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
BY JAMES PARTON.
THERE was excitement and expectation among the playgoers of New York, in the early days of September, 1832.
Stars, new to the firmament of America, were about to appear, -a great event in those simple days, when Europe
supplied us with almost all we ever-had of public pleasure.
Charles IKemble, brother of MIrs. Siddons the peerless, and of
John IKemble the magnificent, was coming, to America, accompanied by his daughter, "Fanny 1Kemble," the most brilliant
of the recent acquisitions to the London stage.   Charles
Kemble was then an exceediingly stout gentleman, of fiftyseven, fitter to shine in Falstaff than in Hamlet; yet such is
the power of genuine talent to overcome the obstacles which
niature herself puts in its way, that he still played with fine
effect some of the lilghtest and most graceful characters of the
drama. He played Hamlet well, and Benedick better, when
he must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds; and
people forgot, in admiring the charm of his manner, and the
noble beauty of his face, that he had passed his prime. His
dau,ghter, at this period, was just twenty-one years of age,
and stood midway iin her brief and splendid theatrical career,
which had begun two years before, and was to end two years
after.
The play selected for the first appearance of the young
actress in America was Fazio. The old Park theatre was 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
the place. It was the evening of Tuesday, September the
18th, 1832. Charles Kemble had appeared the night before
to a crowded house in his favorite part of Ihamlet, which he
performed with that finish and thoroughness characteristic of
all the family of the Kembles.   On this evening, the house
was still more crowded, and the weather was oppressively
warm.  At half past six Miss Kemble went to the theatre to
prepare for the ordeal before her. To give time for the audience to assemble and settle in their seats, the farce of Popping the Question was first performed.  It was a night of
mishaps. When she reached the theatre, she discovered that
the actor (a novice from London) who was to play the principal male part in the tragedy of Fazio was so completely
terror-stricken at the prospect before him that he gasped for
breath, and he excited the pity, even more than the alarm, of
the lady whose performance he was about to mar. She did her
best to reassure.him, but with small success. W,hen they were
about to take their place upon the stage just before the curtain rose, he was in an absolute panic, and appeared to be
choking with mere fright.  She hastily brought him some
lemonade to swallow, and was immediately obliged to take
her place with him in the scene.
According to the custom of actresses who play the chief
part in Fazio, she sat with her back to the audience. The
curtain rose. As the back of one young lady bears a striking
resemblance to that of another, and as she was dressed with
perfect plainness, the audience did not recognize her, and remained silent.  The actor supporting her, who had calculated
upon the usual noisy reception, and was still ill the last extremity of terror, stood stock still gazing, at the heroine, evidently
waiting for the audience to do their part before he began- his.
The hint was taken at length, or, probably, some friends of
the lady recognized her, and then the whole assembly clalpped
their hands and used their voices, according to the established
103 
104   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
custom on such occasions. Her reception, indeed, was in the
highest degree cordial, - such as New York has ever delig,hted to bestow upon distinguished talent, from whatever
part of the world it may have come.
The play began.  The frightened actor broke down in his
second speech.  Miss Kemble prompted him, but he was too
completely terrified to understand her, and he spoiled the
situation.  This happened so frequently that the great actress
was prevented, not merely from exerting her powers, but
from fixing her mind upon her part at all; for, what with
prompting her distracted Fazio, and his total obliviousness
of what actors call " the business" of the scene, she became
at length almost as much frilghtened as he was, and she
thought that her total and ignominious failure was inevitabl)le.
It is a curious thing, however, that a performer upon the
stage may be enduring a martyrdom of this kind, and scarcely
a soul in the audience suspect it. I remember once )eing
close to the stage when Edwin Booth was platying Hlamlet, iand
the king was so intoxicated that it was with real diffi(elty
that he kept himself upright upon his throne, and he hald to
be prompted at every other word.   Mr. Booth was on the
rack dtiring, the whole of the first scene in which he appears,
and kept up a running fire of the most emphatic observations
upon the conduct of his royal uncle.  It was with the greatest difficulty that the scene was carried on; and yet, I was
informed by persons in front of the house, that they had not
observed anything extraordinary,.except that the king was a
very bad actor, which in that part is as far as possible from
being extraordinary.
And so it was with Miss Kemble.  She strugg)led throtugh
the first two acts with her miserable Fazio.  She was rid of
him at the beginnlin of the third act, and from that time
began to play with freedom and effect. IIer success was comulete. Every point of that intense and passionate perform 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.L
ance wnos heartily applauded, and when the curtain went
down at the close of the fifth act, she was summoned to reappear as vociferously as heart could wish. This was the beginning of a most brilliant and successful engagement in New
York.  Here, as everywhere, her crowning, triumph was in
the part of Julia, in Sheridan Knowles' play of the HIunchback, a play which was written expressly for her, and in
which she gained her greatest London success. Most of
those telling "points," which are repeated by every actress
whenever this play is performed, were originated by Miss
Kemble, and never failed, or can fail, to produce a powerful
effect upon an audience whenever they are respectably
madce.
This youing lady came rightly by her dramatic talent. She
was a member of a family which, for three generations, had
contributed to the English stage its brightest ornaments.
Roger Kemlble, the first of the family who is known to fame,
born in 1721, himself an actor and manager, was the father
of twelve children, five of whom embraced his profession and
became eminent in it.  His eldest child, Sarah Ketmble, mnarried at the age of eighteen an actor of a country company,
named Siddons, and became the greatest actress that ever
lived.  John Philip Kemble, the eldest son of Roger, was
perhaps, upon the whole, the greatest actor of modern times.
George Stephen Kemble, another son of the country manager,
was also an excellent actor, and is now remembered chiefly
for his performance of Falstaff, which he was fat enough to
play without stuffing.  Elizabeth Kemble, a sister of Mrs.
Siddojis, married an actor named Whitlock, with whom she
came to the United States, where she rose to the first position on the stage, and had the honor of performing before
General Washington and the other great men of that day.
She made a fortune in America, and retired to Fnglvand in
1807 to enjoy it. Finally, there was Charles Kiemnble., the
)
105 
106   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
youngest child of Roger except one, an actor of great note on
the English stage for many years.
It was by no means the intention of Roger KIemble that
all his children should pursue his own laborious vocation.
On the contrary he was much opposed to their going upon
the stage, and in some instances took particular pains to pre vent it.  This was the case with Charles, who received an
excellent education, and for whom a place was procured in
the London post-office.  But it seemed as natural for a Kemble to act, as it is for an eagle to soar. They all appear to
have possessed just that combination of form, feature, voice,
presence, and temperament, which are fitted to charm and impress an audience.  Charles Kemble was soon led to try the
stage, upon which he rose gradually to a high, but never to
the highest, position. He was the best lilght comedian of his
time, and has perhaps never been surpassed in such characters as Benedick, Petruchio, Charles-Surface, Cassio, Faulconbridge, Edgar, and Marc Antony.  He was also an excellent,
though not a great, Hamlet. In due time he married a popular actress, Miss De Camp, who began her dramatic career
as a member of the ballet troupe of the Italian Opera House
in London.  Two daughters were the fruit of this union,Frances Anne Kemble, the subject of this memoir, and Adelaide Kemble, -both of whom, after a short but striking
career upon the stage, married gentlemen of fortune and
retired to private life.
Six weeks before the evening on which Miss Kemble made
her first appearance in London, neither she nor her parents
had ever thought of her attempting the stage.  Charles Kemble was then manager of Covent Garden Theatre, one of the
two great theatres of London.  The plays which he presented
did not prove attractive; the season threatened to end in
disaster; and he looked anxiously about him for the means
of restoring to the theatre its former prestige. His eldest 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
daughter, Frances, was then eighteen years of age.  Except
that she had frequently heard her aunt, Mrs. Siddons, read
the plays of Shakespeare, and had lived from her infancy in
a family of actors, she had made no special preparation
for the stage. She inherited, however, that fine presence,
that admirable self-possession, that magnificent and flexible
voice, for which the IKembles were distinguished. It suddenly occurred to the family that this brilliant and saucy
girl, perhaps a little spoiled by parental fondness, might
prove a great actress and save the failing fortunes of the family.  The experiment was tried.   In October, 1829, she
made her first appearance.  The play selected for the occasion was Romeo and Juliet, in which her father played the
part of Romeo, her mother that of the nurse, and herself,
Juliet.  Her success was so remarkable, it was so evident
that she possessed in an eminent degree the talent of the
family, that, when the curtain descended at the close of the
evening, she was felt to be, both before and behlind the curtain, an established favorite. I1er first success was followed
by other triumphs.  As Portia, in the Merchant of Venice,
as Bianca, in the tragedy of Fazio, as Lady Teazle, in the
School for Scandal, and in other parts of similar calibre, she
shone without a rival; since, whatever may have been wvanting in the artist was amply atoned for, in the public mind, by
the youthful grace and beauty of the woman. The house
was nightly filled to overflowing.  Her father was saved from
bankruptcy, and the old popularity of the theatre was fully
restored. A play which she had written in her seventeenth
year, entitled Francis the First, was produced, and attained
a certain success.  Sheridan Knowles, then at the height of
his renown as a dramatist, and in the full vigor of his powers,
wrote for her his master-piece, the IHunchback, in which her
popularity was almost beyond precedent.
It Was after two years of such a life as this, when she was
107
II 
108    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
twenty-one years of age, that her father and herself crossed
the Atlantic to make the usual tour of the American theatres.
New York, as we have seen, gave her a cordial welcome, and
sent her forth to the other cities relieved of all anxiety, to
continue a career which was nothing but triumph.
Fortunately for our present purpose, she kept a diary of
this tour, the publication of which, in 1835, was one of the
agreeable literary events of the year. Thirty-five years ago!
The lifetime of but a single generation I And yet, what a
different country does this diary reveal to us from the United
States of to-day! WVhat a different person, too, was the
dashing, vivacious, and spoiled child of the public of 1832,
from the patient, mature, and lofty character which Mrs.
Kemble has since attained!
Her diary was amusing when it was published, but it is today a lesson in history   She lived, during her first engagement in New York, at the American Hotel, on the corner of
Barclay Street and Broadway, which was then considered the
most  elegant hotel in the city.  She gives nevertheless a
sorry account of it: The rooms were "a mixture of French
finery and Irish disorder and dirt," and there was a scarcity,
not only of servants, food, and space, but even of such common articles as knives and forks.  "The servants," she adds,
" who were just a quarter as many as the house required, had
no bedroomns allotted to themn, but slept about anywhere in
the public rooms, or on sofas, in drawing,-rooms let to private
families. In short, nothing can exceed the want of order,
propriety, and comfort in this establishment, except the enormity of the tribute it levies upon pilgrims and wayfarers
through the land."
To give the reader an idea, at once, of the character of
Miss Kemble's style at the time, and of the startling changes
which time has wrought in the country, I will here transcribe
the accornt she gives of her first journey from New York to 
M3RS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
Philadelphia, which occurred on the 8th of October, 1832.
The steamboat started from the foot of Barclay Street at halfpast six in the morning, which obliged the young lady and
her father to get up long before daylight.  This steamboat,
which excited the special wonder of the party from its mag
nitude and splendor, conveyed them as far as Perth Amboy.
"At about half-past ten," she continues, "we reached the
place where we leave the river, to proceed across a part of
the State ef New Jersey, to the Delaware.   The landing was
beyond measure wretched; the shore shelved down to the
water's edge; and its marshy, clayey, sticky soil, rendered
doubly soft and squashy by the damp weather, was strown
over with broken potsherds, stones, and bricks, by way of
pathway; these, however, presently failed, and some slippery planks, half immersed in mud, were the only roads to
the coaches that stood ready to receive the passengers of the
steamboat.  Oh, these coaches!  English eye hath not seen,
English ear hath not heard, nor hath it entered into the heart
of Englishmen to conceive, the surpassing clumsiness and
wretchedness of these leathern inconveniences!  They are
shaped something like boats, the sides being merely leathern
pieces removable at pleasure, but which in bad weather are
buttoned down to protect the inmates from the wet. There
are three seats in this machine; the middle one having a
movable leather strap, by way of a dossier, which runs between the carriage doors, and lifts away, to permit the egress
and ingress of the occupants of the other seats.  Into the
one facing the horses D      and I put ourselves; presently,
two younlg ladies occupied the opposite one; a third lady
and a gentleman of the same party sat in the middle seat, into
which my faither's huge bulk was also squeezed; finally,
another man belongingl,  to the same party ensconced himself
between the two young ladies.  Thus the two seats were
109
II 
110   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
filled each with three persons, and there should by rights have
been a third on ours; for this nefarious black hole on wheels
is intended to carry nine.  However, we profited little by the
space; for, letting alone that there is not really and truly room
for more than two human beings of common growth and proportions on each of these seats, the third place was amply
filled up with baskets and packages of ours, and huge undouble-zc coats and cloaks of my father's.
"For the first few minutes I thought I must have fainted
from the intolerable sensation of smothering which I experienced.  However, the leathers having been removed, and a
little more air obtained, I took heart of grace and resigned
myself to my fate.  Away walloped the four horses, trotting
with their front and galloping with their hind legs; and away
went we after them, bumping, jumping, thumping, jolting,
shaking, tossing, and tumbling, over the wvickedest road, I
do think, the cruelcst, heard-heartedest road that ever wheel
rumbled upon.  Through bog, and marsh, and ruts, wider
and deeper than any Christian ruts I ever saw, with the roots
of trees protruding across our path, their boughs every now
and then giving us an affectionate scratch through the windows; and, more than once, a half-demolishled trunk or stump
lying in the middle of the road lifting us up, and letting us
down again, with most awful variations of our poor coachbody from its natural position.  Bones of me I what a road!
Even my father's solid proportions could not keep their level,
but were jerked up to the roof and down  again every three
minutes.
Our companions seemed nothing dismayed by these wondrous'performances of a coach and four, but laughed and
talked incessantly, the young ladies at the very top of their
voices and with the national nasal twang. The conversation
was much of the genteel shopkeeper kind, the wit of the ladies
and the gallantry savoring strongly of tapes and yard meas 
MIRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
ures, and the shrieks of laughter of the whole set enough to
drive one into a frenzy.  The ladies were all pretty; two of
them particularly so, with delicate, fair complexions, and
beautifiul gray eyes. How I wish they could have held their
tongues for two minutes! We had not long been in the
coach before one of them complained of being dreadfully
sick.  This, in such a place and with seven near neighbors!
Fortunately, she was near the window, and, during our whole
fourteen miles of purgatory, she alternately leaned from it,
overcome with sickness, then reclined languishingly il the
arms of her next neighbor, and then starting up with amazing
vivacity, joined her voice to the treble duet of her two
pretty companions, with a superiority of shrillness that might
have been the envy and pride of Billin(gsgate.'Twas enough
to bother a rookery!
The country through which we passed was woodland; flat
and without variety, save what it derived from the wondrous
richness and brilliancy of the autumnal foliage.  Ihere, indeed, decay is beautiful; and nature Lappears more gorgeously
clad in this her fading mantle, than in all the suimmer's flush
of bloom in our less favored climates. I noted several beatitiful wild-flowvers growing, among the underwood, some of
which I have seen adorning with great dignity our most cultivated gardens.  None of the trees had any size or appearance of age; they are the second growth, which have spriung
from the soil once possessed by a mightier race of vegetables.
The quantity of mere underwood, and the number of huge
black stumps, rising in every direction a foot or two from the
soil, bear witness to the existence of fine forest timber. The
few cottages and farmhouses which we passed reminded me
of similar dwellings in France and Ireland; yet the peasantry
here have not the same excuse for disorder and dilapidation
as either the Irish or French. The farms had the same desolate, untidy, untended look; the gates broken, the fences
III
0
v 
112    EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
carelessly put uip or ill-repaired; the farming utensils sluttishly scattered about a littered yard, where the pigs seem to
preside by  undisputed  right;  house-windows broken and
stuffed with paper or clothes; dishevelled women and barefooted, anomalouts-looking human young things.  None of the
stirring life and activity which such places present in Einglan(
and Scotland; above all, none of the enchanting mixture of
neatness, order, and rustic elegance and comfort,  which render so picturesque the surroundings of a farm, and the vanioiIs belongings of agricultural labor in my own deal' coulltry.
The fences struck me as peculiar.  I never saw any such in
England.   They are made of rails of wood placed horizontally, and meeting at obtuse andgles, so forming a zigzag wall
of wood, which runs over the country like the herri-ng,-bone
seams  of a flannel petticoat.  At each of the angles, two
slantiiln  stakes, considerably higher than the rest of the
fence were driven into the ground, crossing each other at the
toip  so as to secure the horizontal rails in their position.
There was every now and then a soft, vivid strip of turf
along, the roadside that made me long for a horse.  Indeed,
the whole road would have been a delightful ride, and was a
most bitter drive.
"At the end of fourteen miles, we turned into a swampy
field, the whole fourteen coachfuls of us, and by the help of
heaven, bag and baggage were packed into the coaches that
stood on the railway ready to receive us.  The carri,ages
wvere not drawn by steam, like those on the Liverpool railway,  but by horses, with the mere  advantage  in speed
afforded by the iron ledges, which, to be sure, compared
with our previous progress through the ruts, was considerable.  Our coachful got into the first carriage of the train,
escaping,, by  way of especial grace, the dust whlich one's
predeceCssors occasion.  This vehicle had but two scats in the
usual fashion, each of which held four of us.  The wholc in 
DYRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
side was lined with blazing, scarlet leather, and the windvows
shaded -with stuff curtains of the same refreshing color;
which, with full complement of passengers, on a fine, sunny,
American summer's day, must make as pretty a little miniature hell as may be, I should think.   The ba-ggage-wagon,
which went before us a little, obstructed the view. The road
was neither pretty nor picturesque, but still fringed on each
side with the many-colored woods, whose rich tints made
variety even in sameness. This railroad is an infinite l)lessing;'tis not yet finished, but shortly will be so, and then
the whole of that horrible fourteen miles will be performed in
comfort and decency in less than half the time.
"In about an hour and a half, we reached the end of our
railroad part of the journey, and founld another steamboat
waiting for us, when we all embarked on the Delaware.
Again, the enormous width of the river, struck me with astoniishment and admiration.  Such  huge bodies of water mark
out the country through which they run as the future abode
of the most extensive commerce and greatest maritime power
in the universe. The banks presented much the same features as those of the Raritan, though they were not quite so
flat, and more diversified with scattered dwellings, villages,
and towns.  We passed Bristol and Burlingcton, stopping at
each of them to take up passengers.  I sat working, having
finished my book, not a little discomfited by the pertinacious
staring of some of my fellow-travellers.  One woman in particular, after wandering round me in every direction, at last
came and sat down opposite me, and literally gazed me out
of countenance.
"One improvement they have adopted on board these boats
is, to forbid smoking, except in the forepart of the vessel.
I wish they would suggest that if the gentlemen would refrain from spitting about, too, it would be highly agreeable to
the female part of the community.  The universal practice
8
113 
114    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
here of this disgusting trick makes me absolutely sick;
every place is made a perfect piggery of, - street, stairs,
steamboat, everywhere, - and behind the scenes, and on the
stage at rehearsal. I have been shocked and annoyed beyond
expression by this horrible custom.   To-day, on board the
boat, it was a perfect shower of saliva all the time; and I
longed to be relieved from my fellowship with these very
obnoxious chewers of tobacco. At about four o'clock we
reached Philadelphia, having performed the journey between
that and New York (a distance of a hundred miles), in less
than ten hours, in spite of bogs, ruts, and all other impediments.   The manager came to look after us and our goods,
and we were presently stowed into a coach which conveyed us
to the Mansion House, the best reputed inn in Philadelphia."
Such was travelling in the United States, between our two
largest cities, only thirty-five years ago! Such was Miss
Kemble in the twenty-second year of her age!
Some of the incidents of her tour in America were very
amusing.  Being exceedingly fond of riding on horseback,
she gave a great impetus to the fashion of ladies' indulging
in that pleasure.  Particularly at Philadelphia, there was
great hunting for good saddle-horses, which, Miss Kemble
assures us in her diary, scarcely existed in the country at that
time. A particular cap which she wore when riding was
imitated and sold as "the Kemble cap." She appears, at that
time, to have had a contempt for the beautiful art which she
practised, and by which her family had become so distinguished. "-How I do loathe the stage! "she exclaims. " These
wretched,-tawdry, glittering, rags flung, over the breathing
-forms of ideal loveliness; these miserable, poor, and pitiful
substitutes for the glories with which poetry has invested her
,nagno,ficent and fair creations.  What a mass of wretched,
mumming mimicry acting is!   Pasteboard and paint, for 
*
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
the thick breathing orange-groves of the south; green silk
and oiled parchment, for the solemn splendor of her noon of
night; wooden platforms and canvas curtains, for the solid
marble balconies and rich dark draperies of Juliet's sleeping
chamber, that shrine of love and beauty; rouge, for the startled life-blood in the cheek of that young passionate woman;
an actress, a mimicker, a sham creature, me, in fact, or any
other one, for that loveliest and most wonderful conception,
in which all that is true in nature and all that is exquisite in
fancy are moulded into a living form!  To act this!  To act
Romeo and Juliet! Horror! horror!  How I do loathe my
most impotent and unpoetical craft!"
Ah! how necessary it is to know precisely in what mood,
and in what circumstances, a passage was written, before we
can tell how far it expresses the author's real and habitual
sentiment. The sentences just quoted signify, chiefly, thai
she had been just playing Juliet to a most awkward and
abominable Romeo.  In the last scene of the play, she tells
us, she was so mad with the mode in which all the other scenes
had been performed, that, lying over Romeo's dead body, and
fumbling for his dagger, which she could not find, she thus
addressed her dead lover:   "Why, where the devil is your dagger, Mr.."
In truth, she was not a little proud of her honorable and
arduous vocation. She was not insensible to the magic of
that art which enables an audience to forget that they are
looking upon pasteboard and rouge, and to forg,et, also, that
it is not the veritable Juliet who is moving them to rapture
and to tears.  Some of the best passages in Miss IKemble's
diary are subtle disquisitions upon the art of acting.
She had another mishap with her Romeo at Baltimore.
The play went off pretty well on this occasion, she says in
her humorous way, "except that they broke one man's collar
bone, and nearly dislocated a woman's shoulder, by flinging
115 
116    EMINENT WOMIEN OF TItE AGE.
the scenery about."  She. gives the following absurd account
of the conclusion of the play:
"My bed was not made in time, and when the scene drew,
half a dozen carpenters, in patched trowsers and tattered
shirt-sleeves, were discovered smoothing down my pillows
and adjusting my draperies.  The last scene is too good not
to be given verbatim: -
"Ro o.                   Rise, rise, my Juliet,
And from this care of death, this house of horror,
Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms.'
"Here he pounced upon me, plucked me up in his arms like
an uncomfortable bundle, and staggered down the stage with
me.
"Juliet (aside). Oh, you've got me up horridly I that'll
never do; let me down, pray let me down I
"' RIomeo. There, breathe a vital spirit on thy lips,
And call thee back, my soul, to life and love I'
"Juliet (aside). Pray put me down; you'll certainly throw
me down if you don't set me on the ground directly.
"In the midst of' cruel, cursed fate,' his dagger fell out of
his dress; I, embracing him tenderly, crammed it back again,
because I knew I should want it at the end.
" Romeo.'Tear not our heart-strings thus! 
They crack! they break! Juliet I Juliet! (dies).'
"Juliet (to corpse). Am I smothering you?
"Corpse (to Juliet). Not at all; could you be so kind, do
you think, as to put my wig on for me? it has fallen off.
" Juliet (to corpse). I'm afraid I can't, but I'll throw my
muslin veil over it. You've broken the phial, haven't you?
"(Corpse nodded).
4k 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
"Juliet (to corpse). Where's your dagger?
"Corpse (to Juliet).'Pon my soul, I don't know."
It is curious to notice how prompt this young lady, who
sometimes affected such a horror of the stage, was to defend
it when attacked by another.  She had a long conversation
once with Dr. Channing on this subject, who thought that
detached scenes and passages well declaimed could serve as
a good substitute for the stage. The young actress at once
took fire. "My horror," she says, "was so unutterable at
this proposition, and my amazement so extreme that he should
make it, that I believe my replies were all but incoherent.
What! take one of Shakespeare's plays bit by bit, break it
piecemeal, in order to make recitals of it! Destroy the marvellous unity of one of his magnificent works to make patches
of declamation!... I remember hearing my Aunt Siddons
read the scenes of the witches in Macbeth, and while doing
so was obliged to cover my eyes, that her velvet gown, modern cap, and spectacles might not disturb the wild and sublime
images that her magnificent voice and recitation were conjuring up around me."
Miss IKemble's dramatic career in the United States was
troubled by only one disagreeable incident, which occurred
while she was playing an engagement at Washington.  On
returning to her hotel, one evening, from her usual ride, she
found a man sitting with her father, and her father in a towering passion.
There, sir," said Mr. Kemble, when she came in, "there
is the young lady to speak for herself."
And truly the young lady did so in a highly spirited man
ner.
"Fanny," continued her father, "somiething particularly
disagreeable has occurred; pray can you call to mind anything you said during the course of your Thursday's ride
117 
118    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
which was likely to be offensive to Mr., or anything,
abusive of this country?"
Miss Kemble, who comprehended the situation at a glance,
nntied her bonnet, and replied, with haughty nonchalance,
that she did not recollect a word she had said during her whole
ride, and should certainly not give herself any trouble to do
so.
Now, my dear," said her father, his own eyes flashing fire,
"don't put yourself into a passion; compose yourself and
recollect. Here is a letter I have just received."
He read the letter, which proved to be a ridiculous and
dastardly anonymous one, to the effect, that Miss Kemble
had said during the ride in question, that she did not choose
to ride an American gentleman's horse, and had offered the
owner two dollars for the hire of it, and had otherwise spoken
most disrespectfully of the American people. The letter
proceeded to state that, unless something was done in the way
of explanation or apology, she should be hissed off the stage
that night the moment she appeared.
The evenling came.  The pit was littered with handbills
from the same malicious and cowardly hand. The only effect
was, that every time she appeared during the play the audience received her with a perfect uproar of applause. At the
end of the second act, one of the handbills was brought to
MIr.  Kemble, who immediately went with it before the audience, and denounced it as an infamous falsehood.  The play
proceeded, and, when Miss Kemble next came upon the scene,
the audience rose to their feet, waved their hats, and gave a
succession of such thundering, cheers, that she burst into
tears, and had extreme difficulty in going on with her part.
Nor was this all. The public, justly indignant at this contemptible act of inhospitality to eminent artists from a foreign
land, crowded the theatre during the rest of their engag,ement, and gave them two benefits of such an overwhelming, 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
character, that a smart Yankee remarked, " He shouldn't wonder if Mr. Kemble had got up the whole thing himself."
This visit to America had more important and lasting consequences than Miss Kemble had anticipated.  Among the
most ardent of her American admirers was a young gentleman of large fortune and ancient family, residing in a spacious
mansion in Philadelphia.  Pierce Butler was his name.  He
was a descendant of the famous Pierce Butler of South Carolina, whose history was so familiar to the public seventy
years ago, but has long since been forgotten.  Major Pierce
Butler came to America before the Revolutionary war with
one of the regiments sent over by the tory government to
overawe rebellious Boston.   He was  an Irishman by descent, a scion of the ancient family, the head of which was
the Duke of Ormond.  Instead of assisting an obstinate and
ignorant kidng to subdue the most loyal of his subjects, he
had the good sense to embrace their cause.  He resigned his
commission, sold his property in Great Britain, and settled
in South Carolina, where he purchased a very large estate in
lands suited to the culture of rice and cotton. There he lived
and flourished, a leading'planter and politician, from about
the year 1780 until the time of his death in 1822. Ite was a
democrat of the most decided type, a warm adherer of Jefferson, and a main stay of successive democratic administrations.
It was the son of this distinguished man, the heir of his
name and his estates, who was captivated by Miss Kemble's
talents. His admiration of the actress became, at length, a
passion for the woman, and he offered her his hand. Accord ing to the usual En,lish view of such matters, it was a bril liant offer; for, in England, no splendor of talent or fame,
no worth of character, no extent of learning, nothing, is con sidered to place an individual on a par with one who possesses
a large quantity of inherited land.  This young man was at
the head of society at Philadelphia. His estates in South
119 
120    EAMINENT WOMEEN OF THE AGE.
Carolina he visited but seldom, and he lived at the Quaker
capital the life of elegant and inglorious ease which is so
captivating to the imagination of the toiling and anxious mul titude. Miis,s Kemble was so little acquainted with him and
his affairs that she did not know the nature of his property.
She did not know that he derived his whole inconme from the
unrequited toil of slaves, extorted from them by the lash.
She did not know that he owned one slave.
It so happened that she had brought with her from her
English home a pa)ticula? abhorrence of slavery, and the
feeling was increased in America by what she casually heard
of the condition and treatment of the negroes.  Several passages in her diary, written before she ever saw the face of this
Pierce Butler, prove her utter detestation of slavery. But
who can avoid his destiny? In an evil hour, she turned her
back upon her noble art, upon the public that admired and
honored her, upon her country, too, and gave her hand to
this democratic lord of seven hundred slaves. All the world
congratulated her. She was thought to have made a most
brilliant match, -she, the woman of genius ati feeling, the
heir of an illustrious name, which she had rrored herself
worthy to bear!
For a time, all went well. Children were born. Women
of a certain calibre are not long in discovering the quality of
their husbands; and it is highly probable, that Frances Anne
Kemble had taken the measure of Pierce Butler before the
events occurred which led to their estrang,ement.  In the
fourth year of their marriage, in Deceml)er, 1838, the family,
for the first time since the marriage, went together to spend
the winter upon the Butler plantations in South Carolina.
She recorded her impressions at the time in a diary, according to her custom, which diary has been recently published.
What a contrast between this work, written in 1839, ar d her
other diarv written in 1832 and 1833! In the first, there is X f?od 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
deal of immaturity, a little affectation, perhaps, and, occasionally, a certain lack of the refinement and dignity which belong to the well-bred woman. We see the favorite actress
a little spoiled by her sudden and great celebrity, though full
of the elements of all that is high and great in the character
of woman. In the second diary, we find those clements
developed.   Disappointment,-  the greatest a woman can
know, - the discovery that her mate is not her equal, had imparted a premature maturity and an unusual depth of reflection to the matron of twenty-seven. Her record of this
winter's residence in South Carolina, among her husband's
slaves, is the best contribution ever made by an individual, to
oui knowledge, of the practical working of the slave system
in the United States. One of her friends cautioned her not
to go down to her husband's plantation "prejudiced" against
what she was to find there.
"Assuredly," she replied, "I am going prejudiced against
slavery, for I am an Englishwoman, in whom the absence of
such a prejudice would be disgraceful. Nevertheless, I go
prepared to find many mitigations in the practice to the general injustice and cruelty of the system,- much kindness on
the part of the masters, much content on that of the slaves."
She was disappointed.   She discovered that slavery was
all cruelty.  The very kindness shown to slaves did but aggravate their sufferings, because that kindness was necessarilyj
fitful and capricious, and was liable at any moment to terminate.  With those fresh and honest eyes of hers she lookel
through all the sophistry of the masters, and saw the system
exactly as it was. They told her, for example, that the large
families of the slaves were a proof of their good treatment
and welfare.
"No such thing," she replied. "If you will reflect for a
moment upon the overgrown families of the half-starved Irish
peasantry and English manufacturers, you  rill agree with me
121 
122   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
that these prolific shoots by no means necessarily spring, from
a rich or healthy soil. Peace and plenty are certainly causes
of human increase, and so is recklessness; and this, I take
it, is the impulse in the instance of the English manufacturer,
the Irish peasant, and the negro slave... None of the cares,
-those noble cares, that holy thoughtfulness which lifts the
human above the brute parent,- are ever incurred here by
either father or mother. The relation indeed resembles, as
far as circumstances can possibly make it do so, the shortlived comnnection between the animal and its young. The
father, having neither authority, power, responsibility, nor
charge in his children, is, of course, as among brutes, the
least attached to his offspring; the mother, by the natural
law which renders the infant dependent on her for its first
year's nourishment, is more so; but, as neither of them is
bound to educate or to support their children, all the unspeakable tenderness and solemnity, all the rational, and all the
spiritual grace and glory of the connection is lost, and it becomes mere breeding, bearing, suckling, and there an end.
But it is not only the absence of the conditions which God
has affixed to the relation which tends to encourage the reckless increase of the race; they enjoy, by means of numerous
children, certain positive advantages.   In the first place,
every woman who is pregnant, as soon as she chooses to make
the fact known to the overseer, is relieved of a certain portion of her work in the field, which lightening of labor continues, of course, as long as she is so burdened.   On the
birth of a child certain additions of clothing and an additional
weekly ration are bestowed on the family; and these matters,
small as they may seem, act as powerful inducements to
creatures who have none of the restraining influences actuating, them which belong to the parental relation among all
other people, whether civilized or savage. Moreover, they
have all of them a most distinct and perfect knowledge of 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
their value to their owners as property; and a woman tikiaks,
and not much amiss, that the more frequently she adds to the
number of her master's live-stock by bringing new slaves into
the world, the more claims she will have upon his consideration and good-will.  This was perfectly evident to me from
the meritorious air with which the women always made haste
to inform me of the number of children they had borne, and
the frequent occasions on which the older slaves would direct
my  attention to their children, exclaiming,'Look, muissis!
Little ni,ggers for you and massa; plenty little niggers for
you and little missis!'  A very agreeable apostrophe to me,
indeed, as you will believe."
Of the cruelty commnitted upon this estate she gives ample
details, which need not be repeated here.  I1er husband's
negroes were considered fortunate by those upon surrounding
plantations, and yet almost everything that she saw and heard
during her residence among them filled her with grief and
horror. What surprised her very much was, the low physical condition of the colored people, and the great mortality
among the children.  This was partly owing to insufficient
and  innutritious food, but chiefly to the incessant  childbearing of the women.   She found mothers who were fifteen
years of age, and grandmothers  who  were thirty.   She
found women in middle life who had borne from twelve to
sixteen children.  One cause of intense misery was compelling the women to return to their labor in the field three
weeks after confinement. In short, the whole system, and
all its details and circumstances, excited in her nothing but
the most profound and passionate repugnance.
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth will speak,
and, especially, a woman's mouth I  She remonstrated with
her husband uponl the cruelties practised almost in his very
presence.  She might as well have addressed her remonstrances to one of his own palmetto-trees. Once, when she
123 
124:   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
had related to him a peculiarly aggravated atrocity commit.
ted upon the mother of a family, he replied, that, no doubt,
the punisLmeut inflicted upon the woman  was "disagreeable."
At other times, he would say, " Why do you listen to such
stuff?  Why do you believe such trash?  Don't you know
the nicggers are all d    d liars?"  At length, he commanded
her never to speak to him upon the subject again, never to
try to stand between a defenceless female slave and the overseer's withering lash.
This was almost beyond bearing.  Read one passage from
her diary:
"I have had an uninterrupted stream of women and
children flowing ill the whole morning to say,'Ha, de missis.'
Amuong others, a poor woman called Mile, who could hardly
stand for pain and swelling in her limbs; she had had fifteen
children; nine of her children had died; for the last three
years she had become almost a cripple with chronic rheumatism, yet she is driven every day to work in the field. She
held my hands, and stroked them in the most appealing way,
while she exclaimed,'O my missis! my  missis! me neber
sleep till day for de pain,' and with the day her labor must
again be resumed. I gave her flannel and sal-volatile to rub
her poor swelled limbs with; rest I could not give her, -rest
from her labor and her pain, - this mother of fifteen children.
I went out to try and walk off some of the weilght of
horror and depression which I am  beginning to feel daily
more and more, surrounded by all this misery and degradation that I can neither help nor hinder."
In addition to all this, she could not be ignorant that her
young husband degraded himself and dishonored her, as the
young planters of the South were accustomed to degrade
themselves, and dish)onor their wives. 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
I shall not dwell here upon what followed. The difference of opinion, or rather of feeling, upon this subject of
slavery- so vital to them as slave-owners - ended at last
in complete an(] bitter estrangement.  A separation followed.
Mrs. Kemble retired to the beautiful village of Lennox in
Massachusetts, where she occasionally had the pleasure of
associating with her children, and where she was the delight
and ornament of a large circle. Nor was the public entirely
deprived of the benefit of her talents. Inheriting from her
father an amplitude of person which time did not diminish,
she was no longer fitted to resume her place upon the stage.
She has given, however, as every one knows, series of readiigos from Shakespeare and other authors, in the principal
cities of the United States and Great Britain.  One happy
year she spent in Italy, and, according to her habit, made
her residence there the subject of a volume of poetry and
prose, which she entitled "A year of Consolation."  During
our late civil war she resided in England. She was true to
the country of her adoption, and rendered to it the most
timely and valuable services. In the midst of the hostility
against the North which  prevailed  among the  educated
classes in England, she wrote a most eloquent and powerful
vindication of the United States for the "London Times;"
and, about the period when the question of Emancipation was
agitating all minds, she gave to the public her Southern diary,
which had been in manuscript more than twenty years. The
last two sentences of this work will serve to show that at the
darkest period of the war, when all but the stoutest hearts
felt some misgivings as to the final result, this brave and
high-minded woman  had  undiminished faith in the final
triumph of the right.  They are these:
"Admonished by its terrible experience, I believe  the
nation will reunite itself under one government, remodel the
125 
126    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Constitution, and again address itself to fulfil its glorious
destiny. I believe that the country sprung from ours - of
all our just subjects of national pride the greatest- -will
resume its career of prosperity and power, and become the
noblest as well as the mightiest that has existed among the
nations of the earth."
Mrs. Kemble is now fifty-seven years of age, but neither
the vigor of her body nor the brilliancy of her talents has
undergone any perceptible diminution.  Her readings have
been, for nearly twenty years, among the most refined and
instructive pleasures accessible to the public, and they still
attract audiences of the highest character.  I had the pleasure
of hearing her read ill the city of New York, in March,
1868. It was the coldest night of the year; the streets
were heaped high with snow, and a cutting north-west wind
was blowing.  Notwithstanding these adverse circumstances,
which thinned every place of amusement in the city, more
than a thousand people assembled in Steinway Iall to listen
once more to this last and best of the Kembles. The play
was Coriolanus, one of the most effective for her purpose, in
the whole range of the drama.   When she presented herself
upon the platform and took her usual seat behind a small low
table, she looked the very picture of one of the noble Roman
matrons whose grand and passionate words she was about to
uttter. As she sat, she appeared to be above the usual stature
of women, although in fact she is not. Her person, although
finely developed, has in no degree the appearance of corpulence. Her hair, naturally dark, has been so delicately
touched by time, that the frost of years looks like a sprinkling
of the powder which has lately been in fashion again.  Her
face is fuill and ruddy, indicating high health, and her features
are upon that large and grand scale for which her family have
been always remnarkliable, and which call to mind the fact that 
MRS. FRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
the Romans once ruled in England.  Her voice is exceed.
niigly fine, being ample in quantity as well as harmonious and
flexil)e.  On this occasion, she was attired in a dress of plain
black silk, relieved only by a narrow lace collar around  the
neck, which was fastened by a small plain gold pin.  Nothing
can exceed the force, beauty, and variety of her reading;
she is perhaps the only person, who has yet practised this art,
that can hold a large audience attentive an(l satisfied during
the reading of a play.
Like all genuine artists, Mrs. K,emble marks an habitual
respect for the public whom she serves. Her low courtesy
to the audience, and her pleasant, respectful way of addressing
them when she has occasion to do so, are in striking contrast
with the ridiculous and insolent airs which some of the spoiled
children of the opera sometimes give themselves. Her dress
varies with the play she is to read.  When the Midsummer
Night's Dream is the play, she wears a bridal dress of white
silk adorned with lace. Her self-possession in the presence
of an audience is complete, and although she exerts herself
to please them with far more than the energy of a novice, no
one is aware of the fact, and she seems to enchant us without
an effort.
127 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH.
BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
THE city of Malaga, in Spain,. was the birthplace of Eug6nie, the Empress of the French. This quaint old Moorish
town, containing about sixty thousand inhabitants, is situated
on the shores of the Mediterranean, at the head of a bay
which constitutes so fine a harbor that the city has been, for
centuries, one of the most important seaports of the Spanish
peninsula. Bleak, barren, rugged mountains encircle the
city, approaching so near to the sea that there is scarcely
room for the streets of massive, lofty stone houses, which are
spread along the shore. These streets, as in all the old Moorish towns, are very narrow, many of them being not more
than six or eight feet wide.  The houses are large and high,
and are built around a court-yard. The ruins of ancient fortifications and the battlements of a fine old Moorish castle
add to the picturesque beauties of the crags, which rise sublimely in the rear of the town.
The climate is almost tropical, and the market abounds
with all the fruits and vegetables which ripen beneath an
equatorial sun.  Though most of the city presents but a labyrinth of intricate and narrow streets, there is one square
around which the buildings are truly magnificent.   This
square, or public walk, called the Alameda, is the favorite
resort of all the fashion and gayety and pleasure-seeking of
the city.
128 
~  
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 129
In the street of St. Juan de Dios, of Malaga, there was, in
the early part of the present century, a wealthy, intelligent,
and very attractive family residing in one of the most stately
mansions. The master of the house was an opulent merchant
from England, William Kirkpatrick, a Scotchman by birth.
He had been the English consull at Malaga, and had married
a young lady of Malaga, of remarkable beauty both of form
and feature, Francisca Gravisne, the daughter of one of the
ancient Spanish families.
They had three daughters, all of whom inherited the beauty,
grace, andl vivacity of their mother, blended with the strong
sense and solid virtues of the father.  The eldest of these
daulghters, Mtria, was a young lady of extraordinary beauty.
She was tall, with features as if chiselled by a Grecian sculptor, I)etaming with animiation, with brilliant eyes, ready wit,
and possessing perfect command of all the graees of language
and the attractions of matnner.  Blended Saxon and Spanish
blood circled in her veins and glowed in her cheeks.   Her
exquisitely moulded form is represented to have been perfect.
IHer two younger sisters, Carlotta and Henriquetta, were
also fatr-famned for beauty, grace, intelligence, and all those
virtues which give attractions to the social circle.  Mr. Kirkpatrick was erngaged in extensive commerce with England and
America.  His circle of acquaintance was consequently very
extensive. All foreigners of distinction were welcomed to
his hospitable board; and it was also the resort of the most
refined andl aristocratic native society of Malaga.
Among  the guests who visited in this attractive faimily
there was a Spanish noble, alike illustrious for his exalted
birth, his large fortune, and his military prowess. A scar
upon his face and a crippled limb were honorable wounds,
which gave him additional claims to pre-eminence. He had
joined the army of Napoleon, in the endeavor to liberate Spain
from the despotism of the Bourbons. He was then known
9                     1 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
by the name of Cipriano Palafox, Count of Theba. A strono
attachment sprang, up between this member of one of the old
Spanish families and Senorita AIaria Kirkpatrick, the datughter of the wealthy English merchant.   They were married
in 1819.
This marriage secured for the beautiful and highly accomplished Maria all the advantages which wealth and rank could
confer.  The count took his young and lovely bride, who
was some years younger than himself, to Madrid, and presented her at court.  She had enjoyed the adva,ntages of both
a Spanish and an English education.  Her beauty, intelligence, and varied accomplishments rendered her a great favorite with the queen, Maria Cliristina, and she was elevated
to the most influential post almong the feminine offices,that of first lady of hlonor.
Her husband, Count Theba, soon received additional wealth
and lhonllor, inheriting fironom a deceased brother tlhe title and
estates of the Count of Mlontijo.  Maria's sister, Carlotta, soon
after married an English gentleman, her cousin Thomas, the
son of her father's b)rother, John Kirkpatrick.   This gentleman had accompanied Wellington to Spain, and had served
as paymaster to the English army until 1814.  As MIaria's
husband had espoused the cause of Napoleon, and had shed
his blood in fighting against Wellington, the two extremes of
political antagonism were represented in the family; and yet,
so far as we can learn, harmoniously represented, for the passions which had inflamed that deadly conflict yielded to the
ties of family affection.  Both Thomas and his wife are now
dead.
The third daughter, Henriquetta, married Count Cabarras,
a very wealthy Spanish sugar-planter, residing near Velez
Mlalaga.  Her lot has been peculiarly tranquil and happy.
She is probably, at the time of this writing, residing in pleasant retirement, with her husband, on their beautiful estate
130 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 13
in the south of sunny Spain, in the enjoyment of opulence
and high position.
The Empress Enugenie is the daughter of the elder sister,
Maria Kirkpatrick, and of Cipriano Palafox, double Count
of Theba and of Montijo. She was born the 5thl of May,
1826. English and Spanish blood are mingled in her veins.
She has enjoyed all the advantages of an Engllish, a French,
and a Spanish education. She is faimiliar with the literature
and the best society of the three realms, and in her person and
features there are blended, in a remarkable degree, the grace
and beauty of the highest specimens of the Spanish and Saxon
races.
The death of her father, a few weeks before her birth, left
Euoe'1iie an orphan in her earliest infancy. But she was blest
with the trailning of a very excellent and highly educated
mother.  It is said that a part of her education was acquired
in Ellnland, and that she has enjoyed the advantages of the
best schools in France.  Thus she speaks English, Spanish,
and Frenchl with equal fluency.   There is no court ill Europe
where the claims of etiquette are more rigidly observed than
in the royal palaces of Miladrid.  Eugenie, fiom childhood,
has been so accustomed to all these forms, that she moves
through the splendors of the Tuileries with ease and grace
which charm every beholder.
John IKirkpatrick, who had married Etginnie's aunt, Carlotta, became subsequently a banker in Paris.  Il the year
1851, Alaria the Countess of Montijo, with her daughlter Eugenie, the Countess of Theba, visited Paris. The marvellous
loveliness of Eugenie, the ease, grace, and perfect polish of
her address, and her vivacity and  wide intelligence, surrounded her with admirers.  The classical regularity of her
features, her exquisitely moulded form, her rich, soft auburn
hair, and her large, expressive black eyes, arrested the attelntion of ev ery observer. Equally at home in several languages, 
132    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and endowed with great powers of conversation and of ftasci.
nation, the most distinguished, of all lands, gathered around
her, rendering her that homage which genius everywhere
yields to the perfection of feminine charms. One familiar
with her has said:
" Her beauty was delicate and fair, from her English ancestry; while her grace was all Spanish, and her wit all French.
These made her one of the most remarkable women in the
French capital, though her independence of character and her
Eng,lish habits imparted to her more liberty of action than
the restraints imposed on French demoiselles allow, and therefore exposed her to remark. There is not one well authenticated adventure which can be told to her disadvantage. The
empress, besides her brilliant qualities, which make her the
most lovely sovereign in Europe, is kind and generous; and
in the few opportunities to test her higher qualities has displayed great courage and sense."
The emperor did not escape the fascination which all alike
felt.  The countess became the most brilliant ornament of
the gay assemblies of the Tuileries; and when she rode
along the Boulevards or the Champs Elysee, all eyes were
riveted upon her. It is to the present day alike the testimony
of all, who are favored with her acquaintance, that she is as
amiable and as lovely in character as she is beautiful in
person. No one can behold her countenance, beaming with
intelligence, and witness her sweet smile, without the assurance that Eugenie is richly endowed with the most attractive
graces which can adorn humanity.
The Countess of Theba, Eugenie, had been educated a
Catholic, and was reputed an earnest Christian of the Fenelon
type.   God only can judge the heart; but externally she
manifested the utmost devotion to the claims of religion, and
i 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. 133
was scrupulous in the observance of the rites of the church.
The cavillers said, "she is a very rigid Catholic."  The devout said, "she is a very earnest Christian." All alike acknowledg,ed that she was the foe of irreligion in every form,
and that the prosperity of the Church, in that great branch of
Christianity to which she belonged, was dear to her heart.
It is reported that the Emperor of the French had previously met Eug,enie, and admired her in the court circles of
London, when he was an exile from his native land. Hie gave
her a cordial welcome at the palace of the Tuileries, and
friendship soon ripened into love. The marked religious
character of Eugenie awakened sympathy in the bosom of
the emperor. He had often taken occasion to say, in his
public addresses, that while others had sustained Christianity
as a "measure of state," as a "political necessity," he supported Christianity from a full conviction of its divine origin,
and as thus indispensable to the welfare of nations and of men.
It is probable that the emperor, more familiar with the
world, and having studied the workings of Protestant forms
of Christianity in Englanld and America, is more liberal in
his denominational views. Still he regards Catholicism as
the religion of France, and, while advocating the most perfect fireedom of conscience, recognizes the papal church as
the denomination to which he belongs, and to which he should
give his fostering care.   Thus the emperor and Eugenie
found a bond of union in their religious convictions.
On the 22d of January, 1853, the emperor, in the following communication to the Senate, announced that Euge'nie,
the Countess of Theba, had consented to share with him the
throne, in becoming his partner for life: —
"GENTLEMEN: - I yield myself to the wish so often mailifested by the country in announcing to you my marriage.
The union I contract is not in accord with the traditions of 
134    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the ancient policy.  In that is its advantage.  France, by her
successive revolutions, is always rudely separated from the
rest of Europe. Every sensible government should seek to
introduce her td the bosom of the old monarchies. 13ut this
result will be much more surely attained by a policy just and
frank, and by loyalty of transactions, than by royal alliances
which create false security and often substitute the interest
of families for the national interest. Moreover the examples
of the past have left upon the minds of the people superstitious impressions. They have not forgotten that, for seventy
years, foreign princes have ascended the steps of the throne,
only to see their race dispersed or proscribed by war or by
revolution.  One woman only has seemed to bring happiness
to France, and to live, more than others, in the memory of
the people; and that woman, Josephine, the modest and excellent wife of General Bonaparte, was not of royal blood.
"We must, however, admit that the marriage, in 1810, of
]Napoleon Bonaparte with MIalia Louisa was a great event.
It was a pledge for the future, a true satisfaction to the national pride, since the ancient and illustrious house of Austria, with which we had so long waged war, was seen to
solicit an alliance with the elected chief of a new empire.
Under the last reilgn, on the contrary, did not the self-love
of the country suffer when the heir of the crown solicited, in
vain, during many years, the alliance of a royal house, and
obtained, at last, a princess, accomplished, undoubtedly, but
only in the secondary ranks, and of another religion?
"When, in the face' of ancient Europe, one is borne, by
the force of a new principle, to the height of the ancient dynasties, it is not ill endeavoring to give antiquity to his heraldry, and in seeking to introduce himself, at whatever cost,
into the family of kings, that one can make himself accepted.
It is much more, in ever remembering his origin, in maintaining, his appropriate character, and in taking, frankly, in 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF TIlE FRENCH. 135
the face of Europe, the position of a parvenut, -a glorious
title when one attains it by the free suffrage of a great people.
"Thus obliged to turn aside from the precedents, followed
until this day, my marriage becomes but a private affair.
There remains only the choice of the person.  The one who
has become the object of my preference is of elevated birth.
French in heart, and by the recollection of the blood shed by
her father in tihe cause of the empire, she has, as a Spaniard,
the advantage of not having, in France, a family to whom it
might be necessary to give honors and dignities.  Endowed
with all the qualities of the mind, she will be the ornament
of the throne, as, in the day of danger, she will become one
of its most courageous supports.   Catholic and pious,  she
will address the same prayers to Heaven with me for the
happiness of France. By her grace and her goodness she
will, I firmly hope, endeavor to revive, in the same position,
the virtues of the Empress Josephine.
"I come then, gentlemen, to say to France, that I have
preferred the woman whom I love, and whom I respect, to
one who is unknliown, whose alliance would have advantages
mingled with sacrifices.  Without testifyinug disdain for any
one, I yield to my inclinations, after having, consl]ted my
reason and my convictions.  In tine, by placing independence,
the qualities of the heart, domestic happiness, above dynastic
prejudices and the calculations of nambition, I shall not be
less strong because I shall be more free.
Soon, in repairing to Notre Dame, I shall present the
empress to the people and to the army.   The confidence
they have in me assures me of their sympathy. And you,
gentlemen, on knowing her whom I have chosen, will agree
that, on this occasion again, I have been guided by Providence."
In France, marriage is regarded both as a civil and a relig
4 
136    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ious rite, and both ceremonies are often accompanied with
great solemnity and pomp.  The marriage of the Emperor
and Eugenie, the Countess of Theba, was celebrated at the
Tuileries, on the 27th of Janutary, 1853. The next day,
which was Sunday, the religious ceremonies took place, with
great splendor, at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  The Archbishop of Paris officiated.  Probably a more brilliant assembly was never convened ill France, or in the world, than the
throng which then filled, to its utmost capacity, that venerable and capacious edifice. All the courts of Europe were
represented, and nothing was wantilng which wealth and rank
and power and taste could give to contribute to the attractions of the spectacle.
" All the pomp of the Catholic service, all the opulence of
the capital, all the beauty and brilliance of the court, all the
grim majesty of the military, whatever was illustrious in
science and art, every resource of celelbrity, fascination, and
lavish luxury were exhausted on the incidents and displays
of this felicitous day. The imperial couple sat on two thrones
erected in front of the high altar. Sublime and heavenly
melody resounded beneath the lofty arches of the ancient
pile.  A  numerous and gorCgeous array of priests assisted.
The great representatives of the army, of the senate, of the
municipal authorities, of the diplomatic corps, delegations
from the great cities of France, and the most brilliant and
beautiful female leaders of fashion in the capital,- all were
there.  The agitation of the young empress, the focus of so
many inquisitive eyes, during the ceremony, was extreme.
It was necessary for the emperor to soothe and allay her emotions.  All passed off happily and favorably; and everybody,
except the fierce and implacable leaders of the dark and desperate factions, rejoiced at the consummation of the imperial
nuptials."
These were nuptials inspired on both sides by affection and 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH.  137
esteem, and they have been followed, apparently, with far
more happiness than has usually been found in a palace.
The union of the emperor and Eug^niie was a union of
hearts.  The emperor signalized his marriage by granlting
amnesty to nearly five thousand persons who were in banishment for political offences.  The empress has proved herself
all that France could desire in one occupying her exalted
position. The nation is proud of the grace, beauty, and accomplishments which have now for fifteen years rendered
Eugenie not only the brightest ornament of the Tuileries, but
the most conspicuous queen of Europe. A sincere Christian,
devotedly attached to the recognized Christian faith of France,
- the faith in which she was born and educated, -she secures
the homage of all the millions who bow before the supremacy
of the Catholic religion; and her influence, iln the court, has
ever been ennobling and purifying.
In more than one scene of danger Eugenic has proved herself the possessor of that heroism which sheds such an addi
tional lustre upon one destined to the highest walks of earthly
life.  Asa wife, as a mother, and as an empress, history must
award to Eugenie a very high position of merit.  The city
of Paris voted the empress, upon the occasion of her marriagce, a large sum- we think about six hundred thousand dollars -for the purchase of diamonds.  It was a matter even
of national pride that the Empress of France, the bride of
the people's emperor, should be splendidly arrayed.  But
there was no one who could more easily forego these adornings than Euge'nie.  The glitter of gems could add but little
to that loveliness which captivated all beholders.  Eug6enie
had ample wealth of her own.  The emperor had a well-filled
purse. There was no danger that her jewel caskets would be
empty.
Gratefully Euge'nie accepted the munificent gift, having
first obtained the consent of the donors that she should devote 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
it to founding a charitable institution for the education of
young girls belonging to the working classes.  Here she
watches over her sisters of humbler birth, with heartfelt sympathy, alike interested in their physical, mental, and religious
culture.
In the year 1855 the emperor and Euge'nie visited the court
of Queen Victoria. They were received with every possible
demonstration of enthusiasm. England seemed to wish to
blot out the memory of Waterloo, and to atone for the wrongs
she had inflicted upon the first Napoleon, by the cordiality
with which she greeted and the hospitality with which she
entertained his successor and heir. There was English blood
in the veins of Eug,e6uie, and English traits adorned her character. It is not too much to say that she was universally admired in the court of St. James. The London journals of
that day were full of expressions of admiration. It was said
that Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle were never honored with the presence of a guest more truly queenly. In
purity of character, in sincerity of Christian faith, Euge'nie
and Victoria must have found mutual sympathy, though one
was a conmm]nficant of the Church of England, and the other
of the Church of Rome.
Eugenie loved England.  Her grandfather was an Englishman.  Many of her dearest relatives were English;much of
her education was English. The emperor, a man of warm
affections, could not forget the hospitable welcome he had received in London, when an exile, banished by Bourbon law
from his own country, simply because his name was Napoleon
Bonaparte. The emperor has also ever been ready to render
the tribute of his admiration to the institutions of England.
Thus both Louis Napoleon and Eugenie could be happy as
the guests of Queen Victoria. There was moral sublimity in
the event itself. It constituted a new era in the history of
the rival nations. The Emperor of France and the Queen
138 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FIENCIE  139
of Eng(land met in the palaces of the British kings, and
France left a kiss upon the cheek of England.  The kiss was
given and received in perfect sincerity. On both sides it
expressed the hope that war should be no more,-that henceforth France and Eng,land should live in peace, in co-operation, in friendship.
This visit of the emperor and empress to the court of
England's queen is said to have been the first instance in the
world in which a reigning French monarch set foot upon the
soil of his hereditary foes. Not long after this Queen Victoria and Prince Albert returned the compliment, and England's
queen became the guest of EuLe6nie at the Tuileries, St.
Cloud, and Fontainebleau.  Victoria was received by the Parisian population, in the Champs Elysee and along the Boulevards, with the same enthusiasm, with the same tumultuous
and joyful acclaim with which Euge6nie had been received
in the streets of London.  There is no city in the world so
well adapted to festal occasions as Paris.  All the resources
of that brilliant capital were called into requisition to invest
the scene with splendor. The pageant summoned multitudes
to Paris firom all the courts of Europe.
On the 16th of March, 1856, the Empress Eugenie gave
birth to her first and only child.  The young prilnce received
the baptismal name of Napoleon Eugene Louis Jean Joseph.
His birth caused treat joy thlroug(hotlt France, as it would
leave the line of succession undisputed.  This gave increasing
assurance that France, upon the decease of the emperor, would
be saved from insurrection and the conflict of parties. From
all parts of France congratulations were addressed to the
emperor. In the emperor's reply to the Senate he said: —
"The Senate has shared my joy on learning that Heaven
has given me a son; and you have hailed, as a propitious
event, the birth of a child of France. It is intentionally that 
140    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
I use that expression. It is because, gentlemen, when an
heir is born, who is destined to perpetuate a national system,
that child is not only the scion of a family, but he is, also, in
truth, the son of the whole country, and that name indicates
his duties.  If this were true under the ancient monarchy,
which represented more exclusively the privileged classes,
how much more is it so now, when the sovereign is the elect
of the nation, the first citizen of the country, and the representative of the interests of all. I thank you for the prayers
you have offered for the child of France and for the empress."
To the congratulations of the Legislative Corps the emperor responded:
"I have been much affected by the manifestation of your
feelings at the birth of the son whom Providence has so kindly
granted me. You have hailed in him the hope, so eagerly
entertained, of the perpetuity of a system which is regarded
as the surest guaranty of the general interests of the country.
But the unanimous acclamatious which surround his cradle do
not prevent me from reflecting on the destiny of those who
have been in the same place, and under similar circumstances.
If I hope that his lot may be more happy, it is, in the first
place, because, confiding in Providence, I cannot doubt its
protection, when, seeing it raise up, by a concurrence of
extraordinary circumstance, all that which Providence was
pleased to cast down forty years ago; as if it had wished to
strengthen, by martyrdom and by suffering,, a new dynasty
springing from the ranks of the people.
This child, consecrated in its cradle by the peace now at
hand, and by the benedictions of the Holy Father, brought by
telegraph an hour after his birth; in fine, by the acclamnations
of the French people, whom the emperor loved so well, - this 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FfENCE. 141
child I hope will prove worthy of the destinies which await
him."
No man can be in power without having bitter enemies.
There have been a few attempts at the assassination of Louis
Napoleon. The most desperate was that of Orsini, an Italian
refugee. This wretch and his two confederates, with their
murderous hand-grenades, hesitated not to strike down in
bloody death scores of gentlemnen and ladies crowding the
avenues to the opera, if they could thus reach the single victim at whom they aimed.  On the evening of the 14th of
January, 1858, as the emperor and empress were approaching the Grand Opera in their carriage, accompanied by many
of the dignitaries of the court, and followed and preceded by
a crowd of carriages, just as they drew near the opera house,
where the throng was greatest and the speed of the horses
was checked into a slow walk, these assassins threw beneath
the imperial carriage several bombs, or hand-grenades of terrific power. These balls, each about the size of an ostrich's
egg, were ingeniously constructed so as to burst by the concussion of their fall.
The explosion was dreadful in power and deadly in its effects. The street was immediately strown for quite a distance
with the dead and the mutilated bodies of men and horses.
The imperial carriage was tossed and rocked as if upon the
billows of a stormy sea. The glasses were shivered and the
wood-work splintered; and yet, as by a miracle, both the emperor  and  empress escaped without any serious  injury.
The Empress Eugenie manifested, in the midst of this tumult,
a spirit of calmness and heroism worthy of her exalted position. Shrieks and groans resounded all around her. She
knew not but that the emperor was mortally wounded. But
without any outcry, without any fainting, she seemed to forget herself entirely, in anxiety for her spouse.  When some 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
persons attempted to break open the door of the shattered
vehicle, Eug,enie, supposing them to be the assassins, with
their poniards in their hands, thew herself before the enmperor, that with her own body she might protect him from the
da,gg,er-thrusts.
Blefore this attempt at assassination Eugenie was greatly
beloved by all France. But the heroism which she manifested on this occasion added to that love emotions of profound
homage and admiration.   Even the imperial throne was
strengthened by the conviction that the empress was equal to
any emergency; and that, should disaster darken upon the
empire, as in the past, Eugenie, unlike Maria Louisa, the
daughter of the Cesars," would develop the imperial nature
with which God had endowed her, and would be equal to her
responsibilities, however weighty they might be.
On the 3d of May, 1859, the emperor announced to the
French people that he was about to leave France, to take
command of the army of Italy.   In the announcement he
said: --
"The object of this war is to restore Italy to herself, and
not to cause her to change masters. We shall then have,
upon our frontiers, a friendly people who will also owe to us
their independence."
On the 10th of May the emperor, after having appointed
the Empress Eugenie regent during his absence, and having
solemnly confided her and also their son to the valor of the
army, the patriotism of the national guard, and to the love and
devotion of the entire nation, was prepared to leave the Tuileries for his Italian campaign.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon of a beautiful May day.
The carriage of the emperor, an open barouche, stood before
the grand entrance of the palace.  A brilliant retinue of carriages, filled with the military household of the emperor, was
also in line in the court-yard. A mounted squadron of the
-142 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCE. 143
guards, glittering with burnished helmets and coats of mail,
was gathered there, in military array, to escort the cortege
through the Rue Rivoli, the Place de la Bastile, and the Rue de
Lyon to the railway station for Marseilles.  An immense
crowd of the populace was gathered in the court-yard to witness the departure of the emperor.
A few minutes after five o'clock several officers of the emperor's household descended the stairs, followed immediately
by the emperor, with the empress leaning upon his arm.
They were followed by several ladies and gentlemen of the
court. As soon as the emperor and empress appeared the air
was rent with shouts of " Vive l'Empereur," which burst from
the lips of the crowd. The emperor uncovered his head and
waved his hat in response to this cordial greeting. Then,
bidding them adieu, and shaking hands with several of the
ladies, he handed the empress into the carriage and took a
seat by her side. The imperial cortege then left the courtyard, passing out through the triumphal arch. The emperor
was int a simple travelling dress, and wore a cap which permitted every expression of his countenance to be distinctly
seen. He was apparently calm, and a smile was upon his
lips as he met the ever-increasing enthusiasm of the crowd.
But the eyes of Eu,genie were red and swollen, and she could
not conceal the tears which rolled down her cheeks. With
one hand she lovingly clasped the hand of the emperor, while
with the other she frequently wiped away the tears which
would gush from her eyes.
The guards followed the carriage, but did not surround it.
The crowd was so great that the horses could only advance
on the slow walk. Consequently the people came up to the
very steps of the carriage and many addressed words to the
emperor, of sympathy and affection. It was a very touching
scene. The crowd was immense. The windows of all the
houses, the balconies, the roofs even, along the whole line of 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the route were filled with spectators. The streets were hung
with flags and decorated with garlands of flowers; while on
all sides shouts ascended of " Vive l'Empereur! "  Victoire I"
"Dieu vous garde!"
At the Place de la Bastile the populace, in their enthusiasm, began to take the horses from the carria,ge that they
might triumphantly draw the emperor themselves.   For a
moment the emperor was quite overcome with emotion in
view of these proofs of confidence and love. Standing up in
the carriage, he addressed the multitude, saying, " My firiends,
do not delay me; time is precious." Instantly they desisted,
with renewed shouts of " Vive l'Empereur!"  The crowd now
gathered so closely around the carriage that the emperor
reached out both hands and cordially grasped all the hands
which were extended towards him. The affecting and the
ludicrous were singularly blended in the remarks which were
addressed to the emperor and the empress.  One said, " Sire,
you have victory in your eyes."  Another said," If you want
more soldiers, don't forget us." A woman, noticing the tears
streaming down the cheeks of the empress, exclaimed, soothingoly, "Don't cry, don't cry; he will soon come back a,gain."
A sturdy maan endeavored to add to the words of solace as he
leaned his head into the carriage, saying tenderly to the
empress, "Don't cry; we will take care of you and the
boy."
At the station of the Lyons railroad many of the cabinet
ministers and a large number of distinguished members of
the court, gentlemen and ladies, were present. Prince Napoleon, son of Jerome, was there with his young bride,
Princess Clotilde, daughter of Victor Emanuel. The Princess
]latilda, Prince and Princess Murat were also there.
"It was a touching scene," writes Julie de Marg,uerittes;
the waiting-room crowded with mothers, wives, sisters, and
144 
EUGENIE, EMPRESS OF THaE FRENCH. 145
friends, -tears and sobs making their way spite of imperial
example, spite of court etiquette.  At length the moment of
departure arrived. The emperor again embraced the empress and entered the car amidst the deafening shouts of enthusiasm. All was ready. The chief director went up to
the imperial car and asked if he might give the signal to depart. The emperor answered in the affirmative. And so
amidst the shouts of the multitude, which echoed far along the
road, the car bearing the fortunes of France, left the capital."
The empress returned to the palace, where she reigned as
Regent of France until the return of the emperor. The following was the form of the Imperial announcement of the
regency:
" Napoleon, by the grace of God and the national will, Emperor of the French,
"To all present and to come, greeting.
"Wishing to give to our well-beloved wife, the empress,
marks of the great confidence we repose in her, arid, seeing that we intend to take the head of the army of Italy, we
have resolved to confer, as we do confer, by these presents,
on our well-beloved wife, the empress, the title of Regent, that
she may exercise its functions during our absence, in conformity with our instructions and orders, such as we shall havo
made known in the general order of the service that we shall
have established, which will be copied into the book of state.
" We desire that the empress shall preside, in our name,
over the Privy Council and the Council of Ministers," etc..
All the decrees and state papers were presented to Eugenie, who appended to them her signature in these terms:
10 
146    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"For the emperor, and in virtue of the power by him con.
ferred.                                     " EUGENIE."
The emperor entered Genoa on the 12th. No language
can do justice to the enthusiasm with which he was received.
On the day of his arrival at Genoa, the wife of the Sardinian
minister, at Paris, presented Eugenie with a magnificent
bouquet, which had arrived, in perfect preservation, from the
ladies in Genoa. It came from the most distinguished ladies
of the city.  In the accompanying address they said:
"The ladies of Genoa entreat your Majesty, who so nobly
partakes in the magnanimous feelings of the emperor, to accept these flowers, which they would have strowed on your
path had you accompanied your august husband on the entrance into Genoa.  May these flowers be the symbols of the
immortal wreaths of victory  which history will twine round
the brow of Napoleon III., and will bequeath to his son as
the most precious ornaments of the imperial diadem."
Our brief sketch of the empress must here terminate. We
would gladly speak of her devotion to institutions of learning
and benevolence; of her visits to the hospitals where the sick
langutish, and to the asylums where the deaf gaze lovingly
upon her smiles, and where the blind listen almost entranced
to the melody of her loving voice.  lFrance has had two enmpresses who will ever be gral efuilly remembered by the nation,
Josephine and Eugeinie.   Neither of them were of royal
blood, but both of them were endowed, richly endowed, with
that nobility which comes from God alone.  Both  were
.crowned by mortal hands on earth; we cannot doubt that
one has already received, and that the other will yet receive,
that diadem of immortality which God places upon the vie.tor's brow. 
GRACE GREENWOOD —MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 147
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT.
BY JOSEPH B. LYMAN.
::$
ABOUT thirty years ago, when Andrew Jackson and Martin
Van Buren lived in the White House; when questions of
a national bank and a protective tariff interested without
arousing the popular mind; when the great and glorious
valley of the Mississippi still gave homes to the red man
and haunts to wild beasts; when Bryant was fiesh from those
native hills, broad, round, and green, where he dreamed the
Thanatopsis; when visions of Absalom and Jephthlah's daughter were floating fresh and sacred before the eyes of Willis,
-a traveller through Pompey, one of the youthful towns of
western New York, might have turned in his saddle to take
a second look at the lithe figure and the glowing face of a
villagce romp.  Could such tourist hltve known that, inll the
bright-eyed school-girl with rustic dress and touseled hair,
he saw one of the rising lights of the coming age; a letterwriter who should charm a million readers by the piquant
dash and spicy flavor of her style; a delightfull inmaga.zinist; a
poetess, the melody and ring of whose stanzas should remind
us of the most famous lyres of the world; a woman who,
staniding calm, graceful, and self-poised before great audiences, and thrilling them by noble aud earnest words spoken
in the deep gloom of national disaster, should (,all up rich
memories of the Roman matron in her noblest form, or of the
brightest figures that move on the storied page of France, 
EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE.
could he have foreseen all thcat as in the ftittire of this village
beauty, the traveller would have done more thlan turn for a
second look.  He  would have  halted, and talked with the
young Corinne; he would have litngered to hear her speak of
wild flowers, and birds' nests, of rills  and rocks and cascades; he migiht have gone with her to her f,tther's door, and
caught a glimpse of silvered hair and a noble forehead, and
he would have observed upon that flce lineameints that have
for two hundred years been found in all the highl places of
American thought and character.   For  the father of this
little Sara was Dr. Thaddeus Clarke, a grandson of President
Edwards.   Fortunate it is, and a blessing to the race, when
a man so rarely and royally gifted as was this great thleologian, with everything that makes a human character noblle, is
so wisely mated that he can transmit to thre comingi age, not
only the most valuable thinking, of his time, but  a flimily
of children, blessed with soiund constitutions, developed by
harmonious fireside influences, and endowed with vigorous
understandings.  In doing tliat, Jonathan Eddwards did more
to stir thought than when he wrote the history of the Great
Awakening; he dlid more to estalb)lish the grooves of religious
and moral thiliking, and to fix the model of fine character,
than  he could ever accomplish by his Treatise on the Will.
In mature life, the great-graind-daughter has shown many of
the traits of the Edwards family.   She has rejected the ironhooped Calvinism of her ancestor, btit she is indebted to
him for an unflagging, and ever-fresh interest in nature; for
ceaseless mental fectindity, that finds no bottom to its cruse
of oil, and for a touthniess of intellectual fibre that fits her
for a life of perpetual mnental activity.
There was not a gayer or more active girl  in Oinondaga
County than Sara Clarke.    The  brighlt Alfarata was  not
fonder of wild roving.   No  young  gipsy ever took more
naturally to the fields. She loved the forests, the open pas
148 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 149
tures, the strawberry-lots, nid the spicy knolls, where the
scarlet leaves of the wintergreen iiestle  under the dainty
spri,gs of ground pine and the breezy hill-sides, where the
purple fingers and painted lips attest the joy of huckleberrying.   She says of herself that she was a mighty hunter of
wild fruits.  At this early ag,e, she developed a taste which,
at a later age, gave her name a piquant flavor of rorn,nce;
the taste for horseback riding, and the ability to manage
with fearless grace the most spirited steeds.   11er figure was
lithe and wiry, her step elastic, her eye cool, and her nerves
firm.  At ten years of age she was given to escapades, in
which she found few boys hardy and fearless enough to rival
her.  She  would g,o into an open pasture with a nub) of corn,
call up a frolicsome young, horse, halter him, and then jump
on his back.  No  saddle or bridle wants the little Anmazon.
She lhadl seen bold ricding at the circus, andcl in the retirement
of the woods she could surpass it.  So she would toss off
her shoes, and stand upright on the creature's back, with a
foot on each side of the spine.  At first she was content to
let the animal walk with his spirited little burden; then she
would venture into a gentle amble, and finally into full gallop.  As she grew older, the deep woods  had a perpetual
charni for her.  She loved to wander afar into dim shlades,
and listen to the wild, sweet song, of the wood-lark, and to
watch the squirrels gambolling on the tops of beechl-trees, or
leaping, from one oLak to the other.  It is not possible to say
how  much she, and every other active and finely tempered
genius, gains by such a childhood.   A  love of iiature:iid a
habit of enjoying nature is thus rooted in the spirit, so deeply
that no flush of city life can destroy it.  The glare of palaces
and the roar of paved streets seem, for a lifetime, tiresome
and false; the world-weary spirit evermore  lone for the
music of the west wind blowing thlroLugh the tree-tops, the
melodies of the forest, the splash of waterfialls, the ring of 
150   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the mower's steel, the swayiing of the golden wheat fields,
the songs of the whippoorwills, and the glancing of the fireflies. Such a childhood gives a firmness of health, a vigor
and a hardihood, a power of recovering from fatigue, and a
capacity for constant labor without exhaustion, that are a
greater blessing than the wealth of a Girard or a Stewart.
At the age of twelve Sara Clarke went to Rochester to attend school.  Her home was with an elder brother, and she
entered with zeal and with success on the studies of a regular
education.  Like many others who, in after life, have written
that which the world will not willingly let die, she did not
excel in mathematical studies.  The multiplication table was
no labor of love.  The Rule of Three was a hopeless conulndrum.  Interest had no intqrest for her.  But whatever related to the graceful expression of fine thought, whatever unsealed the ancient fountains of song and of story, was easy,
harmonious, and attractive; this was native air.
Nothing is harder than to say just what faculty or grouping, of faculties makes the writer. One may be witty, vivacious, charming in the parlor, or at the dinner-table, yet no
writer.   Mlany have the faculty of expressing a valuable
thought in appropriate languarge; but that does not endow one
with the rights, the honors, and the fame of authorship.  Give
Edward Lytton Bulwer three hours of leisure daily, and in
a year he will give the world three hundred and sixty-five
chapters of unequalled story-telling, in a style that never grows
dull, never palls upon the taste, that is perpetually fresh,
clear-cut, and briluillt.
Charles Dickens will sit down by any window in London,
or lounge through any street in London, and describe the
characters that pass before him, in a way that will charm the
reading public of two continents, in paragraphs for every one
of which his publishers will gladly pay him a guinea b)efore
the ink ism'dry. Sara Clarke was not three years in her teens 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 151
before the Rochester papers were glad to get her compositions. They were fresh, piquant, racy. It was impossible
to guess whether she had read either Whately or Blair, but
it was clear that she had a rhetoric trimmed by no pedantic
rules.  It was nature's own child talking of nature's charms,
her pen, like a mountain rill, neither running between walls
of chiselled stone, nor roofed with Roman arches, but wvande:ring between clumps of willows, and meandering at its own
sweet will through beds of daisies and fields of blooming
clover.  There was nothing remarkable about her education.
When she left school in 1843, at the age of nineteen, she
knew rather more Italian and less algebra, more of English
and Frenich history, and less of differential and integral calculus, than some recent graduates of Oberlin and Vassar;
but perhaps she was none the worse for that.  Indeed, austere, pale-faced Science would have chilled the blood of this
free, bounding, elastic, glorious girl.  Meantime, Dr. Clarke
had removed from Oinondaga County to New Brighton, in
Western Pennsylvania.  This village is nestled between the
hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded
springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its
bright waters for a long journey to the far-off Southern Gulf.
Not long after she went home, in 1845 and 1846, the literary world experienced a sensation.  A  new writer was
abroad.  A fresh pen was moving along the pages of the
Monthlies.  Who  might it be?  Did Willis know? Could
General Morris say?  Whittier was in the secret; but he told
no tales.  And her nom de plume, so appropriate and ele gant! This charming Grace Greenwood, so natural, so chat ty, so easy, chanting her wood-notes wild.  Ah  me! those
were jocund days.  We Americans were not then in such grim
earnest as we are now.  The inimitable, much imitated pen,
that in the early part of the century had given us "Knicker bocker" and the " Sketch Book," was still cheerfully busy at 
152    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Sunny Side.  Willis, beginnling with thle sacred and nibbling
at the profane, was in the middle of his genial, lounoging,
graceful career.  Poe's Raven was pouring out those weird,
melodious croakings.  Ik Marvel was a drceaming, bachelor,
gliding about the picture-galleries of Europe.   Bryant was a
hard-working editor, but when he lifted up those poet eyes
above the smoke of the great city, he saw the water-fowl, and
addressed it in lines that our great-grandchildren will know
by heart.  William Lloyd' Garrison was somnetimes pelted
with bad eggs. Horace Greeley had just started the "New
York Tribune."   Neither Clay, Calhoun, nor Webster had
grown tired of scheming forty years for the presidency.
That great thunder-cloud of civil war, that we have seen cov ering the whole heavens, was but a dark patch on the glow ing skly of the South.   In these times, and among these
people, Grace Greenwood now began to live and move, and
have a part, and win a glowing fame.  For six or eight years
her summer home was New Brighton.  In winter she wais in
Philadelphia, in Washington, in New York, writing for Whittier or for Willis and Morris, or for " Neal's Gazette," or for
"Godley."  She was the most copious and brilliant lady correspondent of that day, wielding the gracefillest quill, giving
the brightest and most attractive column.  It is impossible,
without full extracts, to give the reader a full idea of these
earlier writings of Grace Greenwood.  They had the dew of
youth, the purple lilght of love, the bloom of young desire.
As well think of culling a handful of moist clover-heads, in
the hope of relproducing the sheen and firagrance, the luxuriance and the odor of a meadow, fresh bathed in the Papluian
wells of a June morning! In 1850 many of these sketches
and letters were collected and republished by Tickuor & Fields,
under the name of Greenwood Leaves. The cotemporary
estimate given to these writings by Rev. Mr. Mayo is so just
and so tasteful that no reader will regret its insertion here: — 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS LIPPINCOTT. 153
"The authoress is the heroine of the book; not that she
writes about herself always, or often, or in a way that can
offend.  But her personality gets eitangled with every word
she utters, and her generous heart cannot be satisfied without
a response to all its loves, and hopes, and misgiviings, and aspirations.  There is extravagance in the rhetoric, yet the delicious extravag,ance in which a bounding spirit loves to vindicate its freedom fiom the rules laid down in the'Aids of
Composition,' and the'Polite Letter Writer.'   There is a
delightful absurdity about her wit, into which only a genuine
woman couldfall.  And one page of her adiiriing criticisim of
books and men, with all its exaggerations, is worth a hundred
volumes of the intellectual dissection of the critical professors.
Yet the most striking thing in her book is the spirit of joyols health that springs and frolics through it.  Grace Greenwood is not the woman to be the president of a society for
the suppression of men, and the elevation of female political
rights. She knows what her sisters need, as well as those who
spoil their voices and temper in slirieking it into the ears of
the world; but that knowledge does not cover the sun with
a black cloud, or spoil her interest in her cousin's love afftir,
or make her sit on her horse as if she were riding to a publ)lic
execution.  She can love as deeply as any daughter of Eve.
Yet she would laugh in the face of a sentimental young gentlemau till he wished her at the other side of the world.  She
loves intensely, but not with that silent, brooding intensity
which takes the color out of the cheeks and the joy out of
the soul. I-Iers is the effervescence, not the corrosion, of the
heart.  Aind it is no small thing, this health of which I now
speak.  In an age when to think is to run the risk of seepticism, and to feel is to invite sentimentalism, it is charmling
to meet a girl who is not ashamed to laugh and cry, and s-old
and joke, and love and worship, as her grandmother dil L-afore her." 
154   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
But this is not a review of Grace Greenwood's writings.
Litera scripta mnanet.  Those who wish to see the cream of
our magazine writings -from 1845 to 1852, will find. it in
"Greenwvood Leaves," first and second series. About this
time, her Poems were published.  To say that they are beautiful is not enough.  Though redolent of the open country,
where most of them were written; though composed while
doing housewvork, as was "Ariadne; " or in the saddle, like
the  Horseback Ride,"-the best element ill them is the frank,
generous, cordial, winning personality which pervades them
all.  We find, too, evidences, that below the d.ashing and
piquant exterior there was growvilg lup an intense sympathy
with the most earnest and strenuous spirits.  Already the
mutterings of the distant thlluder were heard, mellowed by
distance, but clear enough to hush the chatteriing of the bobolinks, and the scream of the bltie-jatys.  Thus the lines
To One Afar" close with the following admirable  stainzas:
"Truth's earnest seeker thou, I fancy's rover;
Thy life is like a river, deep and wide;
I but the light-winged wild bird passing over,
One moment mirrored in the rushing tide.
"Thus are we parted; thou still onward hasting,
Pouring the great flood of that life along;
While I on sunny slopes am careless, wasting
The little summer of my time of song."
But before this gay creature of the elements becomes an
earnest woman, as we foresee she must, let us picture in
outline the New Brighton life; let us see our heroine, not as
a inagazinist, or a correspondent, but in a character more
admirable and charming than either, - as a fine, handsome,
brilliant, fearless young lady.  No whit spoiled by a winter
of adulation, by the gracefullest of letters from Mr. Willis,
I 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 155
by the warmest and the truest appreciation from Whittier,
by a colonnade of kindliest notices from the great dailies, the
braider of Greenwood chaplets has come back to her cottagehome amid the swelling hills, and beside the glancing river.
As plain Sara Clarke, she had helped her mother through the
morning work, sweeping, dusting, watering flowers, feeding
chickens, sitting down for a few moments to read two stanzas
to that white-haired father of hers, his head as clear and cool
as ever it was, and as able to give his daughter the soundest
judgments and the most valuable criticisms she ever enjoyed.
In the heat of midday she seeks her chamber, gazes for a few
moments with the look of a lover upon the glorious landscape, then dashes off a column for the "Home Journal" or
the " National Press."   Now, as the shadows of the hills are
beginniing to stretch eastward, we hear a quick, elastic step
onl the stair, and the responsive neigh from the hitching-post
in the yard tells us that the "Horseback Ride" is to be rehearsed; and horse and heroine alike feel that
"Nor the swift regatta, nor merry chase,
Nor rural dance on the moonlight shore,
Can the wild and thrilling joy exceed
Of a fearless leap on a fiery steed."
She must tell, as nobody else can, how quick and marvellous is the change, when she feels the btounding and exuberant
animal life of the steed rejoicing in the burden; exulting in
the  free rein, devouring the long reach of the grassy lane
with his gladsome leaps: -
"As I spring to his back, as I seize the strong rein,
The strength to my spirit returneth again!
The bonds are all broken that fettered my mind,
And my cares borne away on the wings of the wind;
My pride lifts its head, for a season bowed down,
And the queen in my nature now puts on her crown." 
156   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Now  our gentle and poetic Penithesilea has gained the
woodland  cool and dimn.  On they press, horse and rider
alike enthused, till they reach some retired valley, a sequestered nook, where no profane eyes may look. Lady and
pony are going to have a grand equestrian frolic.  Pony likes
it as well as lady.  What prancingo and pawing! what rearing and backing!  Now  a swift gallop, as if in the ring of
some fairy circus.  But this is no vulgar horse-opera;  no
saw-dust or tan-bark here; nothing for show, since the bluejays have no eye for horse-fleshl, nor call squirrels be made
envious by such exploits.   At length pony acts as though
the game had been carried as far as he cared to have it; and
Grace leaps to the greensward and lets him breathe, and get
a drink, and bite the sodc.  Will he not start for home?  Not
he. His fetters are silken; but his mistress has that rare
gift, unusual among men, and very uncommon with the softer
sex, the faculty of controlling animals.  He obeys her word
like a spaniel; goes and comes at her bidding; stands on his
hind feet, if she tells him to; lies down; gets up ag-aiin; follows her up the steps of the piazza.   Ini fact, if such a thlin,
could be, he would carry out the nursery rhyme and go after
her " upstairs, dlownstairs, in the lady's chamber."
The ride home is somewhat more genitle; for, in the cool
o f    the eevening, dusk, our heroine has turned poetess ag,ain,
a    nd     is chiselling out*Pygmalion word by word, or indulging
i n    such spirit-longing,s as this:
"I look upon life's glorious things,
The deathless themes of song,
The grand, te proud, the beautiful,
The wild, the free, the strong;
And wish that I might take a part
Of what to them belong."
After the evening meal, and an hour of quiet chat, while 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 157
flecks of mnoonbeam dance on the gallery floor, we might
suppose the day ended, and these hours of beautiful life
would now be rounded by a sleep.  Not yet.  This fearless
and ardent lover of nature dclelights in every rich sensation
that earth, or air, or water can impart.
She glides away across the pasture to have a glorious
swim in
"Yon lake of heavenly blue;
The long hair, unconfined,
Is flung, like some young Nereid's now
To tossing wave and wind."
This is no timid, frightened bather.  Had she been Hero
on the shores of Hellespont, she would have plunged ill and
met       Leander half-way between the continents.  None but an
assured swimmer could have written this stanza: -
"And now when none are nigh to save,
While earth grows dim behind;
I lay my cheek to the kissing wave,
And laugh with the frolicsome. wind.
"On the billowy swell I lean my breast,
And he fondly beareth me;
I dash the foam froim his sparkling crest,
In my wild and careless glee."
What a pity her bathing,-place was not the fountain of perpetual youth!  No matter how al)ly a woman writes, or how
eloquently she speakls, - and there are very few of her sex
so able or so eloqluent to-day as Grace Greenwood,- we can
but endorse this sentiment of one of her earliest admirers.
In a letter to Morris, written when Miss Clarke was living
this life, and writing these lines, he says:" Save her from
meritiing the approbation of di-gnified critics.   Leave this
fairest blossom on the rose-tree of woman for my worship,
I 
158    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and the admiration of the few who, like me, can appreciate
the value of an elegant uselessness, and perceive the fascination of splendid gayety and brilliant trifling. Adieu, and
send me more Grace Greenwoods."
But no woman, with an acute brain and a warm heart,
could live in such a land as ours, and in the nineteenth century, and remain long a writer of splendid gayeties.  The
times called for earnest thinking and vigorous writing.  The
age of rose-tinted album-leaves, covered with graceful impromptus, was past.  Willis, and his elegant "Home Journal," went into the mild oblivion of June roses.   Great questions agitated the public mind; and we heard hoarse voices
and blasts of brazen trumpets on the slopes of Parnassus.
Meantime Miss Clarke went to Europe.  This was in 1853.
She spent a little over a year abroad, which, in the dedication to her daughter of one of her juvenile books, she calls
the golden year of her life." Perhaps America has never sent
to the shores of the Old World a young lady traveller, who
was a better specimen of what the New World can do ill the
way of producing a fine woman.   She was a flower from a
virgin 4oil, and a new form of civilizatioli; but rivalling, in
the delicacy of its tints, and the richness of its perfume,
anything from older and longer cultivated parterres.  With
one of those felicitous memories that has its treasures ever
at command, and can always remember the right thingr at
the right time and place; fully stored by wide readihgs in
belles-lettres; with the spirit of an enthusiast for everything
beautiful, or good, or famous; ili the joyous overflow of unbroken health and unflagging spirits, the trip was to her one
long gala-day, crowded with memorable sights, with sensations which enrich the whole of onie's after-life.
Harriet   Beecher Stowe has written as well  in her
Sunniy Memories of Other Lands," but no lady tourist from
America has surpassed Grace Greenwood in the warm tinting
II 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 159
and gorgeous rhetoric of her descriptions, and in the viva.
cious interest which she felt herself, and which she conveys
to others in her letters. This correspondence was collected
immediately after her return, and published under the title
of " Haps and Mishaps of a Tour in Europe."
Nobody has described the marble wonlders of the Vatican
with finer appreciation than can be seen in the following
passage:
"Of all the antique statues I have yet seen, I have been
by far the most impressed by the Apollo Belvidere, and
the Dying Gladiator,-  the one the strikling embodiment of
the pride, and fire, and power, and joy of life; the other of
the mournful majesty, the proud resignation, the' conquered
agony' of death.  In all  his triumphant beauty and rejoicing
strength, the Apollo stands forth as a pure type of immnortality - every inch a god.  There is all Olympian spring in the
foot which seems to spurn the earth, a secure disdain of
death in the very curve of his nostrils,- a sunborn lilght on
his brow; while the absolute perfection of grace, the supernal tmajesty of the figure, now, as ill the olden time, seem to
lift it above the human and the perishing, into the region of
the divine and the eternal.  Scarcely can it be said that the
worship of this god has ceased.  The indestructible glory
of the lost divinity lingers about him still; and the deep,
almost solemn emotion, the sig,h of unutterable admiration,
with which the pilgrims of art behold him now, differ little,
perhaps from the hushed adoration of his early worshippers.
I have never seen any work of art which I had such difficulty
to realize as a mere human creation, born in an artist's
stru,ggling brain, moulded in dull clay, and from thence transferred, by the usual slow and laborious process, to marble.
Nor can I ever think of it as having according to old poetic
fancy, pre-existed in the stone, till the divinely directed 
160   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
chisel of the sculptor cut down to it.  Ah, so methinks, the
very marble must have groaned, in prescience of the god it
held.  To me it rather seems a glowing, divine conception,
struck instantly into stone.  It surely embodies the very
soul and glory of the ancient mythology, and, with kindred
works, forms, if not a fair justification of, at least a noble
apology for, a religion which revelled ill ideas of b)eauty and
grace, which had ever something lofty and pure even in its
refined sensuality; and for the splendid arrogance of that
genius lwhich boldly chiselled out its ownv  grand conceptions,
and named them gods.  The Apollo I should lilke to see
every day of my life.  I would have it near me; and every
morning, as the darkness is lifted before the sun, and the
miracle of creation is renewed, I wvould wish to lift a curtain,
and gaze on that transcendent inmage of life and lilght, - to
receive into my own being somewhat of the enlergy and joy
of existence with which it so abountds,-to  catch some
gleams of the glory of the fresh and golden morning of
poetry and art yet raying from its brow.  One could drink
in strength, as firom a fountain, fronm gazing on that attitude
of pride and grace, so light, yet firm, and renewv one's
wasted vigor by the mnere sig,ht of that exulting and effortless
action."
What a gem of description we have here at the end of a
letter, written from Naples on the 18th of April:
"We drove to N.aples this morning, over aroad, which,for its
varied scenery and picturesque views, seems to me only comparable with the Cornice leadiing to Genoa.  It was with heartfelt reluctance that we left Sorrento, which must ever seem to
me one of the loveliest places on earth..  O pride and darling,
of this delicious shore, -like a young festive queen, rosecrowned, sitting, in the shade of oranges and miyrtles, watched 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 161
over with visible tenderness by the olive-clad hills, gently
caressed and sung to by the capricious sea, - bright, balmy,
bewitching Sorrento, adieu! "
But the finest piece of writing in the volume is a bravura
on the Roman Catholic Religion.  It occurs ill a long and
splendid description of High Mass, at St. Peter's on Christ
mas morning:
To  my  eyes, the  beauty  and  gorgeousness  of  the
scene grew most fitting and holy; with the incense floating
to nme from the altar, I seenled to breathe in a subtile, subduing  spirit; and to that  music my  heart hushed  itself
in my breast, my very pulses grew still, and my brain swam
ill a 1newV, lhalf-sensuouts, half-spiritual emotion.  For  a moment I lbelieve I understood the faith of the Roman Catholie, - for a moment I seemed to taste tllhe ecstasy of tlhe
1mystic, to b)Lrll with the fervor of the dlevotee, and felt in
wolnderi, iid in fear, all the poetry, mnystery, and power of
the Church.  Suddenly rose before my mind vivid w.ayside
and seaside scenCes, - pictures of humblest Judean life, when
the'mieek and lowly' Author of our fnitlh walked, ministerin,, and teaching, and  cornfioiting ainoig  thle people,
humblest amongi the lhunmrle, poorest almong the poor, mIost
sorrowful amongI thle sorrowful, preaclhing peace, good-will,
purity, hum,iility, and fieedom, - and then, all this manificent mockery of the divinie truthls lhe taugtht, this trmed and
arrogi,nt spiritual despotism, in the place of the peace  ald
liberty of the gospel, fade(l fi'om  b)cfore my  disenchanted
eyes, and even my ear grewv dull to that pomp of sound,IIl,
swelli,ng up as though to charm his ear aga.ilst the silghs of
the poor, and the groanings of the captive.
0 Cleopatra of religions, thlroned in power, glowing and
gorgeous in all imaginable splendors and luxuries,- proud
11
11
'O' 
162   EMINENT WOMEN OF TIlE AGE.
victor of victors, - in the'infinite variety' of thy resources
and enchantment,s more  attractive than glory, resistless as
fate; now terrible in the dusky splendors of thy imperious
beauty; now softening and subtile as moonli-ght, and miusic,
and poet dreams; insolent and humble, stormy tlhonl,h tender! alluringl tyranny, beautiful fatlsehood,  fatir and  faltal
enchantress, sovereign sorceress of the world! the end is not
yet, and the day ma-y not be far distant when thou shalt lay
the asp to thlline own bosom, and die."
Since  her marriage to Leander IK.  Lippincott,  Grace
Greenwood's pen has been employed chiefly iII writillngs for
the young.   She edits the "Little Pilg,rimn," a monthlly devoted to the amusement, the instructioni, and the well-l)eing
of little folks.  Its best atrticles are her co(ntril)utions.  These
have  been collected firon  time to time, and publishlied l)y
Ticknor &  Fields, and make a juvenile lil)Iary, null)el'iig
nearly a dozen volutmes.  ThougIh illtended for children, none
of these books but will charmn older readers, with the elegance and freshness of their style, their al)oiunding vivaNcity
and harmless wit, and the ho)eftill and stunny spirit which
they breathe.  They are  remariikable for the felicitous mainner
in which they convey historical infornmation.  No  child can
fail to be drawn on to wider readlings of the storied past, ald
to know more of oldcl heroes, ancient cities, and famotis lIands.
Soon after its establishment, Mrs. Lippincott becnme a coIntril)utor to the "Independent," and durilng the war a lectuLrer
to soldiers and at sanitary fitirs.  Icr last book is made up
firom articles in the "Independent," and passages from lectures.
It shows the fire of her youthful zeal, and the glowing rlietoric of twenty-five no whit abated.  On the contrary, there
are evidences in her later productions of a full grasping of
the significance of the heroic and stormny times in which we
live. 
GRACE GREENWOOD-MRS. LIPPINCOTT. 163
There appear in the writings of Grace Greenwood three
phases of development, three epochs of a literary career.
The first lasted from the days of the boarding-school till mar
riige,- from the first merry chit-chat and fragrant Greenwood Leaves beyond the Alleghanies, to the full-rounded,
mellow,  golden prime,  as displayed in the  letters  from
Europe.  Then follows a decade, dutring which story-writing
for children has principally occupied her pen.  With the war
commences the third period,- years "vexed with the drums
and tramplings," the storms and dust-clouds of middle life;
a great republ)ic coIv[llsed by a giant struggle; woman gliding
from the sanctity of the fireside, going out to do, to dare,
and to sutffer at the side of her war-worn brother, attacking
social wron,gs, doing all that woman can dlo to cheer, to adorn,
to raise the dowunf-iilen, to proclaim liberty to the captive, to
open the prison to those that are bound.  Up to the full summit level of such a time her spirit rises.  She briings to the
requirements of this epoch faculties polished by long and
diligent culture; a heart throbbin(g with every fine sensibility,
and  every generous  emotion;  a large,  warm, exuberant
nature; a ripe and glorious womanhood.
For such a character in such a wondrous  mother  age,
there lies- open a long career of strenuous exertion, worthy
achievement, and lasting fame. 
1641   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ALICE AND PHEBE (CARY.
BY HORACE GREELEY.
YEARS ago - a full score, at least- the readers of some
religTious, and those of many rural, newspapers first noted
the fitfiul appearance, in the poet's corner of their respective
gazettes, of verses by ALICE CARY.   Two or three years
l'ater, other such-like, and yet different-  also irradiated,
from time to time, the aforesaid corner, purporting to be
from the pen of PEEBE CARY.  Inquiry at lengthl elicited the
fact that the writers wvere young sisters, the d.tughters of a
plain, substantial farmier, who lived on and cultivated his
own goodly but not superabundant acres, a few miles out of
Cincinnati, Ohio.  I-e was a Universalist in faitli, and they
grew up the same, -  writiin  oftener for the periodicals of their
own denomination, thlough their effusions obtained wide currency thlrough others, into which they were copied.   I do
not know, but presume, that Alice had written extensively,
and Phlebe occasionally, for ten years, before either had asked
or been proffered any other consideration therefor than the
privilege of be-'ng read and heard.
This f.tmily of Catrys claim kindred with Sir Robert Cary,
a stout English knigrt, who, in the reign of I-enry V., vanquished, after a long and bloody struggle, a haughty chevalier
of Arragon, who challenged any Englislhman of geltle blood
to a passage-at-arms, which took place in Smithfield, London,
as is chronicled in "Burke's HIeraldry."  IHenry authorized 
ALICE AND PHEBE CARY.
the victor to bear the arms of his vanquished antagonist, and
the crest is still worn by certain branches of the family. The
genealogy is at l)est unverified, nor does it matter. From
Walter Cary- a French Hugtuenot, compelled to flee his
coulntry, upon the revocation by Louis XIV. of the great
Henry's Edict of Nantes, and who, with his wife and son,
settled in England, where his son, likewise named Walter,
was educated at Cambridge -the descent of the Ohio Carys
is unquestioned.  The younger Walter migrated to America,
very soon after the lanlding of the  IMa-yfiower" pilgrims,
and settled at Bridgewater, Mass., only sixteen miles from
Plymouth Rock, where  he opened  a "grammar school,"
claimed to have been the earliest in America. Walter was
duly blest with seven sons, whereof John settled in AVWindham,
Connecticut; and of his five sons, the youngest, Samuel,
was great-grandfather to the Alice and Phebe Cary of our
day.
Samuel, educated at Yale, becoming a physician, settled
and practised at Lyme, where was born, in 1763, his son
Christopher, who, at eighteen years of age, entered the
armies of the Revolution.  Peace was soon achieved; when,
in default of cash, the young soldier received a land grant or
warrant, and located therewith the homestead in IHamilton
County, Ohio, whereon was born his son Robert, who in due
time married the wife who bore him a son, who died young,
as did one daughter. Two more daughters have since passed
away, and three remain, of whom  the two who  have not
married are the subjects of this sketch.   Their surviving
sister, Mrs. Carnahan, is a widow, and lives in Cincinnati.
Two brothers, sturdy, thrifty farmers, live near the spot
where they first saw the light.
Alice Cary was born in 1820, and was early called to
mourn the loss of her mother, of whom she has written:
My mother was of English descent, - a woman of superior
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160     EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
intellect, and of a good, well-ordered life.  In my menioy,
she stands apart from all others, -wiser, purer, doing more,
and living better, than ally other woman."   Phebe was born
in 1825; and there were two younger sisters, of whom one
died in youth, greatly beloved and lamented.  A few weeks
before her departure, and while she was still in fair health,
she appeared for some minutes to be plainly visible in broad
daylight to the whole family, across a little ravine firom their
residence, standing on the stoop of a new house they were
then building, though she was actually asleep, at that moment, in a chamber of their old house, and utterly uncoInscious of this "counterfeit presentment" at some distance
from her bodily presence.  This appearance naturally connected itself with her death, when that occurred soon afterward; and thenceforth the family have  lent a ready ear
to narrations of spiritual (as distinguished from material)
presence, which to many, if not most, persons are simply
incredible.
The youngest of the family, named Elmina, was a woman
of signal beauty of mind and person, whose poetic as well
as her general capacities were of great promise; but she
married, while yet young, Mr. Swvift, a Cincinnati merchant,
and thenceforward, absorbed in other cares, gave little attention to literature.  She was early marked for its victim by
Consumption, - the scourge of this, with so many other
families, -and yielded upl) her life while still in the bloom
of early womanhood, three or four years since.  I believe
her marrilage, and the consequent loss of her society, had a
share in determining the elder sisters to remove to New
York, which they did in 1850.
Alice had begunl to write verses at eig,hteen, Phebe at seventeen, years of age.  Their father married a second time,
and thence lived apart from, though near, the cottage wherein
I first greeted the sisters in 1849; and, when the number
i 
ALICE AND PHEBE CARY.
was reduced to two by the secession of Elmina, Alice and
Phlebe meditated, and finally resolved on, a removal to thle
great emnporium.
Let none rashly conclude to follow their example who have
not their securities against adverse fortune.  They were in
the flush of youth and strenglth; they were thoroughly, inalienably devoted to each other; they had property to the
value, I think, of some thousands of dollars; they had been
trained to habits of industry and frugality; and they had not
merely the knacki of writing for the press (which so many
mistakenly imagine sufficient), but they had, throulgh the
last ten or twelve years, been slowly but steadily winning
attention and appreciation by their voluntary contributions
to the journals.  These, though uncompensated in money,
had won for them what was now money's worth.  It would
pay to buy their effusions, though others of equal intrinsic
merit, but whose writers had hitherto won no place in the
rega,rd of the reading public, might pass unread and unconsiderecd.
Being already an acquaintance, I called on the sisters soon
after they had set up) their household gods among us, and
met them at intervals thereafter at their home, or ait the
houses of mutual friends.  Their parlor was not so large as
some others, but quite as neat and cheerffl; and the few
literary persons or artists who occasionally met, at their informal invit.-ation, to discuss with them a cup of tea and the
newest books, poems, and events, might have found many
more pretentious, but fewv more enjoyal)le, gathlerings.   I
have a dim recollection that the first of these little tea-parties
was held up two flights of stairs, in one of the less fashionable
sections of the city; but good thiings were said there, that I
recall with pleasure even yet;  while of some of the company, on whom I have not since set eyes, I cherish a pleasant
and grateful remembrance. As their circumstances gradu
167 
EMINENT WOM.EN OF THE AGE.
ally though slowly improved, by dint of diligent industry
and judicious economy, they occupied more eligible quarters;
and the modest dwellilng they have for some years owned
and improved, ill the very heart of this emporium, has long
been known to the literary guild as combinilng one of the best
private libraries, with the sunniest drawing-room (even by
gasli,ght) to  be found  between King's  Bridge  and  tho
Battery.
Their first decided literary venture -a joint volume of
poems, most of which had already appeared ill sundry jour nials -was published in Philadelphia early in 1850, before
they had abandoned "Clovernook," their rural Western home,
for the brick-and-mortar whirl of the American Babel.  Prob ably the heartiness of its welcome fortified, it did not stimu late, their resolve to migrate eastward; though it is a safe
guess that no direct pecunliary advantage accrued to them
firom  its publlication.   But the next year  witnessed the
"coming out" of Alice's first series of" Clovernook Papers;"
prose sketches of characters and incidents drawn from ol)servation and experience, which won immediate and decided
popularity.  The press heartily reco,gnized their fieshl simplicity and originality, while the public l)ot,lght, read, and
admired.  Several goodly editions were sold in this country,
and at least one in Great Britain, where their merits  wvere
generously appreciated by the critics.  A second series, publlished in 1853, was equally successffll.  "The Cloveirnook
Children" -issued in 1854 by Ticknor & Fields, and addressed more especially to the tastes  and watits of younger
readers- has been hardly less commended or less popular.
" Lyra and other Poems," pub)lished by Redfield in 1853,
was the first volume of verse wherein Miss Cary challenged
the judgment of critics independently of her sister.  That it
was a decided success is sufficiently indicated by the fct
that a more complete edition, including all the contents of
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i
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ALICE AND PHEBE CARY.
RPedfield's, with much more, was issued by Ticknor & Fields
in 1855. "The Maiden of Tlascala," a narrative poem of
seventy-two pages, was first given to the public in this Boston
edition.
IHer first novel -   Hagar; a Story of To-Day" - was
written for and appeared in "The Cincinnati Commercial,"
appearing in a book form in 1852.  "MIarried, not Mated,"
followed in 1856, and "The Bishop's Son," her last, was
issued by Carleton, in 1867. Each of these have had a good
reception, alike from critics and readers; though their pectuniary success has, perhaps, been less decided than that of
her poems and shorter sketches.
Of her "Pictures of Country Life," brought out by Derby &
Jackson ill 1859, "The Literary Gazette" (Londoln), which
is not accustomed to flatter American authors, said:
"Every tale in this book might be selected as evidence of
some new beauty or unhackneyed grace.  There is nothing,
feeble, nothling vulgar, and, above all, nothing unnatural or
melodramatic.   To the analytical subtlety and marvellous
naturalness of the French school of romance she has added
the purity and idealization of the home affections and home
life beiongingo to the English; giving to both the American
richness of color and vigor of outline, and her own individual
power and loveliness."
Except her later novels, Miss Cary's works have in good
part appeared filst in periodicals, - "The Atlantic Magazine,"
"I-Harpers'," "The New York Ledger," and "The Independent;"
but many, if not most of them, have generally been afterwalrd
issued in her successive volumes, along with others not previously published.  "Lyrics and IHymnis," issued in 1866 by
Hurd & Houghton, "The Lover's Diary," admirably brofught
out by Ticknor &  Fields in 1867, and  Snow Berries; a
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170   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Book for Young Folks," by the same house, are her latest
volumes.  Nearly all of her prose works have been reprinted
in Lolldon, and have there, as well as here, received a cordial and intelligent welcome.
Few American women have written more than Aliss Cary,
and still fewer have written more successfully.   Yet she
does not write rapidly nor recklessly, and her works evince
conscientious, painstaking, effort, rather than transcendent
genlius or fitfill inspiration. Ill-health has of late interrupted,
if not arrested, her labors; buLt, in the intervals of relative
exemption from weakness and suffering, her pen is still busy,
and her large circle of admiring readers may still confidently
hope that her melody will not cease to flow till song and
singer are together hushed in the silence of the grave.
From her many poems that I would gladly quote, I choose
this as the shortest, not the best: -
" We are the mariners, and God the sea;
And, though we make false reckonings, and run
Wide of a righteous course, and are undone,
Out of his deeps of love we cannot be.
" For, by those heavy strokes we misname ill,
Through the fierce fire of sin, through tempering doubt,
Our natures more and more are beaten out
To perfecter reflections of his will!"
Phebe has written far less copiously than Alice; in fact,
she has for years chosen to bear alone the burden of domestic
cares, ill order that her more distinguished sister should feel
entirely at liberty to devote all her time and strength to
literature.  And, though she had been widely known as the
author of good newspaper prose, as well as far more verse, I
think the critical public was agreeably surprised by the
quality of her " Poems of Faith, IHope, and Love," recently
issued by Hurd & Houghton.  There are one hundred pieces 
ALICE AND PHEBE CARY.
in all, covering two hundred and forty-nine pages;  and
hardly one of the hundred could well be spared, while there
surely is no one of them which a friend would wish she had
omitted from the collection.  There are a buoyant fatith, a
sunny philosophy evinced throughout, with a hearty ijdependence of thought and manner, which no one ever succeeded in affecting, and no one who possesses them could
afford to barter for wealth or fame. The follo(wing verses,
already widely copied and relished, are here given, as affording, a fair chapter of wholesome, bracing autobiography -
" ( A WOMAN'S CONCLUSIONS.
I' I said, if I might go back again
To the very hour and place of my birth;
Might have my life whatever I chose,
And live it in any part of the earth;
"Put perfect sunshine into my sky,
Banish the shadow of sorrow and doubt;
Have all my happiness multiplied,
And all my suffering stricken out;
"If I could have known, in the years now gone,
The best that a wvoman comes to know;
Could have had whatever will make her blest,
Or whatever she thinks will make her so;
"Have found the highest and purest bliss
That the bridal wreath and ring enclose;
And gained the one out of all the world
That my heart as well as my reason chose;
"And if this had been, and I stood to-night
By my children, lying asleep in their beds,
And could count in my prayers, for a rosary,
The shining rowv of their golden heads; -
" Yea! I said, if a miracle such as this
Could be wrought for me, at my bidding, still
I would choose to have my past as it is,
And to let my future come as it will I
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172  EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"I would not make the path I have trod
More pleasant or even, more straight or wide;
Nor change my course the breadth of a hair,
This way or that way, to either side.
"My past is mine, and I take it all;
Its weakness -its folly, if you please;
Nay, even my sins, if you come to that,
May have been my helps, not hindrances! I
"If I saved my body from the flames
Because that once I had burned my hand;
Or kept myself from a greater sin
By doing a less -you will understand;
" It was better I suffered a little pain,
Better I sinned for a little time,
If the smarting warned me back from death,
And the sting of sin withheld from crimae.
"Who knows its strength by trial, will know
What strength must be set against a sin;
And how temptation is overcome
He has learned, who has felt its power within! I
"And who knows how a life at the last may show?
Why, look at the moon from where we stand I
Opaque, uneven, you say; yet it shines,
A luminous sphere, complete and grand I
"So let my past stand, just as it stands,
And let me now, as I may, grow old;
I am what I am, and my life for me
Is the best - or it had not been, I hold."
If I have written aright this hasty sketch, there are hope
and comfort therein for those who are just entering upon
responsible life with no more than average opportunities and
advantages. If I have not shown this, read the works of
Alice and Phebe Cary, and find it there I  
~~  _  ~{   \;T ~ <FL~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
BY T. WV. HIGGINSON.
TRAVELLING by rail in Michigan, some ten years ag b, I
found myself seated next to a 3young lWestern girl, with a
very intelligent face, who soon began to talk with me about
literary subjects.  She afterwards gave me, as a reason for
her confidence, that I "looked like one who would elljoy
AIargaret Fuller's writings," -these being, as I found, the
object of her special admiration.  I certainly took the remark
for a compliment; and it was, at any rate, a touching tribute
to the woman  whose  intellectual influence thus brought
strangers together.
Margaret Fuller is connected, slightly but firmly, with my
earliest recollections.  We were born and bred in the same
town (Cambridge, MAassachusetts), and I was the playmate
of her young,er brotlhers.  Their famiily then lived at the old
Brattle Hfouse," which still stands behind its beautiful lindens, though the great buildings of the University Press now
cover the site of the old-falshionled garden, whose formal fishponds and stone spring-house wore an air of European stateliness to our home-bred eyes.  There I dimly remember the
discreet elder sister, book in hand, watchiing over the gambols
of the lovely little Ellen, who became, long after, the wife
of my near kinsman, Ellery Channing.  This later connection
cemented a new tie, and led to a few interviews in maturer
years with Marg,aret Fuller, and to much intercourse with
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EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
others of the fiamily. It is well to mention even such slight
ties of assoeiation as these, for they unconsciously influence
one's impressions; and, after all, it is the personal glimpses
which make the best part of biography, great or small, and
indeed of all literature.  I-low refreshing it is, amid the
chaff of Aulus Gellius, to come upon  a reference to Virgil's
own copy of the  LEneid, which the writer had once seen,
ttque?m ipsizs JTi'gilii fitisse cre(lebat; " and nothing in all
Lord Bacon's works ever stirred me like that one magic sentence, " Whenl  I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth was ill the
flower of her years."  I can say that when I was a child,
Mlarg,aret Fuller was the queenl of Camblridge, though troubled
with a large minority of rather unwilling and insurrectionary
subjects.
Her mother I well remember as one of the sweetest and
most sympathetic of womenl; she was tall and not unattractive in person, refined and gentle, but with a certain physical
awkwardness, proceeding in part from extreme nearsightedness. Of the father I have no recollection, save that he was
mentioned with a sort of respect, as being a lawyer and having, been a congressman. But his daughter has described
him, in her fragment of autobiography, with her accustomed
frankness and precision:
" My father was a lawyer and a politician.  He was a man
largely endowed with that sagacious energy which the state
of New England society for the last half century has been so
well fitted to develop. His father was a clergyman, settled
as pastor in Princeton, Massachusetts, within the bounds of
whose parish farm was Wachutsett. His means were small,
and the great object of his ambition was to send his sons to
college.  As a boy, my father was taught to think only of
preparing himself for Harvard University, and, when there,
of preparing himself for the profession of law. As a lawyer,
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a, 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
again, the ends constantly presented were to work for distinction in the community, and for the means of supporting
a family. To be an honored citizen and to have a home on
earth were made the great aims of existence. To open the
deeper fountains of the soul, to regard life here as the prophetic entrance to immortality, to develop his spirit to perfection, -motives like these had never been suggested to
him, either by fellow-beings or by outward circumstances.
The result was a character, in its social aspect, of quite the
common sort. A good son and brother, a kind neighbor, an
active man of business, - in all these outward relations, he
was but one of a class which surrounding conditions have
made the majority among us. In the more delicate and individual relations he never approached but two mortals, my
mother and myself.
" His love for my mother was the green spot on which he
stood apart from the commonplaces of a mere bread-winnling,
bread-bestowing existence. She was one of those fair and
flower-like natures which sometimes spring up even beside
the most dusty highways of life, - a creature not tobe shaped
into a merely useful instrument, but bound by one law with
the blue sky, the dew, and the frolic birds. Of all persons
whom I have known she had in her most of the angelic,of that spontaneous love for every living thing, for man, and
beast, and tree, which restores the golden age."
Sarah Margaret Fuller was born May 23, 1810; the eldest
child of Timothy Fuller and Margaret Crane. Her birthplace was a house on Cherry Street, in Cambridge, before
vhose door still stand the trees planted by her father on the
year when she saw the light. The famiTy afterwards removed
to the "Dana House," which then crowned, in a stately way,
the hill between Old Cambridge and Cambridgeport. It was
later still that they resided in the "Brattle House," as I have
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176     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
described. This was Margaret Fuller's home until 1833,
exept that she spent a year or more at the school of the
Misses Prescott; in Groton, Mass., where she went through
that remarkable experience described by herself, under the
assumed character of Mariana, in "Summer on the Lakes."
In 1826 she returned to Cambridge.
The society of that University town had then, as it still
has, great attractions for young people of talent. It offers
something of that atmosphere of culture for which such persons yearn,- tinged, perhaps, with a little narrowness and
constraint. She met there in girlhood the same persons who
were afterwards to be her literary friends, colaborers, and
even biographers.  It was a stimulating and rather perilous
position, for she found herself among a circle of highly cultivated young men, with no equal female  companion; although she read Locke and Madame de Stael with Lyvdia
MIaria Francis, afterwards better known as Mrs. Child.  Carlyle had just called attention to the rich stores of German
literature; all her friends were exploring them, and some
had just returned from the German universities.  She had
the college library at command, and she had that vast and
omnivorous appetite for books which is the most common sign
of literary talent in men, but is for some reason exceedingly rare among women.   At least I have known but
two young girls whose zeal in this respect was at all comparable to that reported of MaIIrg,arct Fuller, these two being
harriet Prescott and the late Charlotte Ilawes.
In 1833 her father removed to Groton, Mass., much to her
regret.  Yet her life there was probably a good changie in
trainingo for one who had been living for several years in an
atmosphere of mental excitement.   In March, 1834, she
wrote thus of her mode of life: -
"March, 1834.-Four pupils are a serious and fatiguing
I 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
charg,e for one of my somewhat ardent and impatient dispositionl.  Five days in the wet~  I have given daily lessons in
three langruages, in geography and history,  besides many
other exercises on alternate days.  This has consumed often
eight, always five hours of my day.  There has been also a
great deal of needle-work to do, which is now nearly finished,
so that I shall not be obliged to pass my time about it when
everything, looks beautiful, as I did last summer.   We have
had very poor servants, and, for some time past, only one.
\Iy mother has been often ill.  MAy grandmother, who passed
the winter with us, has been ill.  Thus you may imagine, as
I am the only grown-up daughter, that my time has been considerably taxed.
But as, sad or merry, I must always be learning, I laid
down a course of study at the beginning of winter, comprising certain subjects, about which I had always felt deficient.
These were the Ihistory and Geography of modern Europe,
beginning the former in the fourteenth century; the Elements
of Architecture; the works of Alfieri, with his opinions on
them; the historical and critical works of Goethe and Schiller, and the outlines of history of our own countlry.
"I chose this time as one when I should have nothing to
distract or dissipate my mind.  I have nearly completed this
couise, in the style I proposed,- not minute or thorough, I
confess, - though I have had only three evenings in the
week, and chance hours in the day for it.  I am very glad I
have undertaken it, and feel the good effects already. Occasionally I try my hld at composition, but have not completed anything to my own satisfaction."
On September 23, 1835, her father was attacked by cholera, and died within three days.  Great as must have been
the blow to the whole faLmily, it was greatest of all to
Margaret.  The tie between them had been very close, anl
12
177
I 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
this sudden death threw the weight of the whole household
upon the eldest child.  It canu at what had seemed to her
the golden moment of her whole life; for she was about to
visit Europe with her constant friends, Professor and Mrs.
Farrar,  and with their friend Harriet Martineau, who was
just returning home.   But all this must be at once abandoned.   Mr.  Fuller had left barely property  enough to
support his widow, and to educate the younger children,
with the aid of their elder sister. Mrs. Fuller was in delicate health, and of a more yielding nature than Margaret,
who became virtually head of the house.  Under her strong
supervision, two out of the five boys  went honorably through
Harvard College,- a third having previously graduated,while the young sister was sent to the best schools, where
she showed the famnily talent.
In the autumn  of 1836, Margaret Fuller went to Boston,
where she taught Latin and French in Mr. Alcott's school,
and had classes of yoiung ladies in French, German, and
Italian.  She also devoted one eveningll  in every week to
translatitng German authors into English, for the gratification of Dr. Chanlning, - their chief reading being in De
Wette and Herder.  The following extract will show how
absorbing, were her occupations-:
-"And now let me try to tell you what has been done.  To
one class I taught the Gertman lanlguage, and tlhought it good
success, when, at the end of three months, they could read
twenty pages of German  at a lesson, and very wvell.  This
class, of course, was not interesting, except in the way of
observation and analysis of laLngLuage.
With more advanced pupils I rea.d, in twenty-four Wveeks,
-Schiller's Don Carlos, Artists, adcl Song of the Bell, besides
giving a sort of general lecture on Schliller; Goethe's Hermann and Dorothea; Goetz von Berlichingen; Iphigenlia;
I
178 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
first part of Faust, -- three weeks of thorough study this,
as valuable to me as to them;  and Clavio, - thus  comprehendling samples of all his efforts in poetry, and bring,ing
forward some of his prominent opinions; Lessing's Nathan,
Minna, Emilia Galeotti;  parts of Tieck's Phantasus, and
nearly the whole first volume of Richter's Titan.
With the Italian class, I read parts of Tasso, Petrarch,whom they came to almost adore,- Ariosto, Alfieri, and the
whole hundred cantos of the Divina Comnmedia, with the aid
of the fine Athenaeum copy, Flaxman's designs, and all the
best commentaries.   This last piece of workli was and will
be truly valuable to myself."
She was invited, in 1837, to become a teacher in a private
school just organized, on Mr. Alcott's plan, in Providence,
R. I.  " The proposal is," she wrote, " that I shall teach the
elder girls my  favorite branches for four hours a day,choosing my own hours and arranging the course,-for a
thousand dollars a year, if upon trial I am well pleased
enough to stay."  This was a flattering offer, and certainly
shows the intellectual reputation she had won. She accepted
it, for the sake of her family, though it involved the necessity of leaving the friends and advantatges which Boston had
given. She had also to abandon her favorite literary project,
the preparation of a Life of Goethe for MIr. Riplley's series
of translations from foreign literature.   It was  perhaps
as a  substitute for this that she translated "Eckermann's
Conversations with Goethe," though it did not appear till
after her removal to Jamaica Plain, in 1839.  It is an admirable version, and there is after all no b(,okl in Einglish from
which one has so vivid and familiar impression of Goethe.
Her preface is clear, moderate,  and full of good points,
though less elaborate than her subsequent essay on the same
subiject. No one, I fancy, has ever compressed into one
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180    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sentence a sharper analysis of this great writer than when
she says of him in the preface, "I think he had the trtist's
eye and the artist's hand, but not the artist's love of structure."
She took a house in Jamaica Plain, on her own responsibility, in the spring of 1839, and removed thither the fianily,
of which she was practically the head.   The next year they
returned once more to Cambridgec, living in a small house
near her birthplace.
In the autumn of 1839, she instituted that remarkalble conversational class, which so stimulated the mindls of the more
cultivated women of Boston, that even now the leaders of
thought and intellectual society date back their first enlightenment to her, and wish that their daughters might have such
guidance.   The very aim and motive of these  meetings
showed her clear judgment.  She held that women were at
a disadvantage as compared with nmen, because the former
were not called on to test, apply, or reproduce what they
learned; while the pursuits  of life supplied this want to
men.   Systematic conversations, controlled by  a leiding
nmind, would train women to definite statement, and continuous thought; they would make  blunders and gain by
their mortification; they would seriously compare notes with
each other, and discover where vague impression ended and
clear knowlecldge be,gan. She thus states, in her informal
prospectus, her three especial aims - -
To pass in review the departments of thougrht and knowledge, and endeavor to place them in due relation to one
another in our minds.   To systematize thought, and give a
precision and clearness, in which our sex are so deficient,chiefly, I think, because they have so fcewv inducements to
test and classify what they receive. To ascertain what pursuits are best suited to us, in our time and state of society,
I' 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
and how we may make best use of our means for building
up thle life of thought upon the life of action."
These conversations lasted during several successive  winters, with much the same  participants,  numbering  fi'om
twenty to thirty.  These were all liadies.  During one bricf
series, the experiment  of admitting gentlemen was tried,
and  it seems  singular that this should have failed, since
nmany of her personal friends  were of the other sex, and
certainly men and women are apt to talk best when together.
In this exceptionial course, the subject was nlmthology, and it
was thought that the presence of those trained in classical
studies might be useful.   But an exceedilngly able historian
of the enterprise adds, " All that depended on others entirely failed....  Even  in the point of erudition on the
subject, which Margaret did not profess, she proved the best
informed of the party, while no one brotught an ide.t, except
herself.  Take her as a whole," adds this lady, " she has the
most to bestow upon others by conversation of any person I
have ever known.  I cannot conceive of tany species of vallity
living in her presence.   She distances all who talk with her."
It is said by.all her friends that no record of her conversation does it any justice.  I have always fancied that the
best impression now to be obtained of  the way she talked
when her classes called her " inspired," must be got by reading her sketch of the  Roman  and Greek characters, in her
autobiographic fragment.  That was writtenll when her conversations most flourished, ill 1840, and a mu]vellous thing it
is.  It is something to read and re-read, year after year, with
ever newv delight.  Where else is there a statement, so vivid,
so brilliant, so profound, of the total influence exerted on a
thoughtful chlild by those two mig,hty tcachers?  No attempted report of her conversation gives such an impression of
what it must have been, as this self-recorded reverie.  If on
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182    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the tritest of all subjects, she could so easily write something
admirable, what must it have been when the restraints of the
penl - to her most distasteful- were removed?
On the last daty of these meetings s- which were closed
only by her departure for New York- she wrote thus: -
"A4pril 28, 1844.  It was the last day with my  class.
How noble has been my experience of such relation now for
six years, and with so many and so various mind-s! Life is
worth living,-  is it not? We had a most animated meetiing.
On bidding me good-by, they all and always show so much
good-will and love that I feel I must really have become a
friend to them.  I was then loaded with beautiful gifts, accompanied with those little delicate poetic traits, which I
should delight to tell you of, if you were near."
While thus serving women, she aided men also, by her
editorship of the "Dial." This remarkable quarterly, established in1840, by a circle of her friends, was under her exclusive charge for two years, aid these the most characteristic
years of its existence.  It was a time of great sectlething in
thought and many people had their one thingi to say, which
being said, they retired into the ranks of common men. The
less instructed found their outlet in the radical conventions,
then so abundant;  the more cultivated uttered themselves
in the " Dial."  The contributors, who then thlronged around
1Margaret Fuller,- Emerson, Alcott, Parker, Thlloreau, Ripley, Hedge,  Clarkle, W.  H.  Channiug, - were  the triue
founders of American literature.   They  emancipated  the
though,t of the nation, and also its culture, thoug,-h their
mnode of utterance was often crude and cumbrous from excess of material.  These writers are all now well known,
and some are famous; but at that time not one of them was
popular, save Theodore Parker, whose vigorous common
~;' 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
sense soon created for itself a wide public. It was his
articles, as MIr. Emerson has since told me, that sold the
numbers; that is, as far as they did sell, which was not
very far.  The editor was to have had two hundred dollars
as her annual salary, but it hardly reached that sum, and I
believe that the whole edition was but five hundred copies.
I can testify to the vast influence produced by this periodical, even upon those who came to it a year or two after its
first appearance, and it seems to me, even now, that in spite
of its obvious defects, no later periodical has had so fresh
an aroma, or smacked so of the soil of spring.  When the
unwearied Theodore Parker attempted, half a dozen years
after, to embody the maturer expression of the same phase
of fiiought in the " Massachusetts Quarterly Review," he predicted that the new periodical would be "The Dial, with
a beard." But the result was disappointment. It was all
beard, and no  Dial."
During the first year of the " Dial's" existence, it contained
but little from the editor,- four short articles, the "Essay on
Critics,"" Dialogue between Poet and Critic," "The Allston
Exhibition," and "Menzel's View of Goethe," - and two of
what may lbe called fantasy-pieces, "Leila," and "The Magnolia of Lake Pontchartrain."  The second volume was richer,
containiIng four of her most elaborate critical articles,
Goethe," "Lives of the Great Composers," "Festus," and
Bettine Brentano."  Few American writers have ever published in one year so much  of good criticism as is to be
found in these four essays.   She wrote also, during this
period, the shorter critical notices, which were good, thlou,gh
unequal.  She was one of the first to do hearty justice to
Hawthorne, of whom she wrote, in 1840, " No one of all our
imaginative writers has indicated a genius at once so fine and
so rich."  Hawthlorne was at that time scarcely known, and it
is silngular to read in her diary, four years earlier, her ac
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184     EMIN,NT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
count of reading one of his "Twvice-told Tales," under the
impression that it was written by " somebody in Salem," whom
she took to be a lady.
I find that I underscored in my copy of the "Dial," with
the zeal of eighteen, her sympathetic lind wise remarkl on
Lowell's first volume.  "The proper critic of this book would
be some youthful friend to whom it has been of real value
as a stimulus.  The exa,ggerated praise of such an one would
be truer to the spiritual fact of its promise than accurate
measure of its performance."  This was received with delight
by us ardent Lowellites in those days, and it still seems to
me admlnirable.
In the third volume of the " Dial," she wrote - of " Beethoven," "Sterling," "Romaic and Rhliine Ballads," and other
themes.   In the fourth volume she published a remarkable
article, entitled,  "The Great Lawsuit;  Man versus AMen,
'Woman versus Women."  It was a cumbrous name, for which
even the vague title,   Woman in the Nineteenth Century,"
,s hlailed as a desirable substitute, when the essay was reprinted in book-form.  In its original shape, it attracted so
much attention that the number was soon out of print; and
it is not uncommon to see sets of the "Dial" bound up without it..
She printed, in 1841, another small translation from the
German,-  a portion of that delightful book, the correspondence between Bettine Brentano and her frienicd G-underode.
One-fourth of this was published in pamphlet form, by way
of experiment; and it proved an unsuccessful one.  Long,
after, her version was reprinted, the work beiing completed
by a far inferior hand.  Margaret Fuller was one of the best
of translators, whether in reproducing the wise oracles of
Goethe, or the girlish grace and daring originality of Bettine and her friend.  She says of this last work, in a spirit
worthy the subject: "I have followed as much as possil)lo 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
the idiom of the writer as well as her truly girlish piunctu,ation.  Comnmas and dashes are the only stops natural to girls;
their sentences flow on in little miiiim ripples, unbroken as
the brook in a green field unless by some sli,,ght waterfidl or
jet of Ohs and Ahs."  I know of nlo other critic who has
ever done exact justice to the wonderful Bettiue, recogniziing
fully her genius and her charms, yet sternly pointilng out the
inevitable failure of such self-abandonment and the way in
which the tree which defies the law mars its own growvth.
During the summer of 1843, she made a tour to the West
with her friends James Freeman Clarke and his artist-sister.
The result of this was her first original work, " Summer onl the
Lakes,"- a book which, with all artistic defects upon its head,
will yet always remain delightful to those who first read it in
its freshness.  To this day it is almost the only work which
presents Western  life in any thoulghtftil or ideal treatment,
which is anything more than a statistical almanac or a treatise
onl arithmetical progression.  Though most of its statements
of fact are loingo since superseded, it yet presents something
which is truer than statistics,- the real aroma and spirit of
Western life.  It is almost the only book which makes that
great region look attractive to any but the ener,getic and executive side of man's nature.  In this point of view even her
literary episodes seem in place; it is pleasant to think that
such books as she describes could be read upon the prairies.
In the narrative of most travellers it would seem inlappropriate to say that they stopped in Chicago and read a poem.  It
would seem like being offered a New York "Tribune" at
Pestuni.    But when Margaret Fuller reads "Philip Van
Artevelde," by the lake shore, just in the suburbs of the busy
city, all seems ippropriate and harmonized, and the moral
that it yields her is fit to be remembered for years.
"In  Chicag,o I read ag,ain'Philip Van Arteveldc,' an'
185
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186    EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE.
certain passages in it will always be in my mind associated
with the deep sound of the lake, as heard in the night.  I
used to read a short time at niight, and then open the blind to
look out.  The moon would be fill upon the lake, and the
caln breath, pure light, and the deep voice harmonized well
with the thought of the Flemish hero.  When will this country have such a man?   It is what she needs; no thin idealist, no coarse realist, but  a man whose eye reads the heavens,
while his feet step firnzmly on the ground, and his hands are
strong and dexterous for the use of human ip,lemnents."
What was that power in MIargaret Fuller which made her
words barbed arrows, to remain in the hearts of young people forever? For one I know that for twenty years that sentence has haunted me, as being, more than any other, the true
formula for the American man, the standard by wvhich each
should train himself in self-education.   I fancy that the
secret of my allegiance to this woman lies in the shaping
influence of that one sentence.  Others have acknowledged
the same debt to other stray phrases she uses,- her "lyric
glimpses," as Emerson called them.  Thus William Ilunt,
the artist, acknowledged that a wholly new impulse of aspiration was aroused in him by a few stray words she had pencilled on the margin of a passage in Mrs. Jamiesonll's "Italian
Painters."
Even the narrative in this book, and its recorded conversations, show that she exerted on travelling acquaintances this
stimiulating and utnlocking power.  This showed its(elf with
the Illinois farmers, "the large first product of the soil," and
especially with that vanishing race, who can only be known
through the  sympathy of the imagination,  the Indians.
There is no book of travels, except, perhaps, lMrs. Jamneson's,
which gives more access to those finer traits of Indian chli.racter that are disappearing, so fast amid persecution and demoral
i 
MIARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
ization.  But the book as a whole, is very frangmentary aniid
episodical, and in this respect, as well as ill the wide rtl.igo
of imerit and demerit in the verses here adcl there interspersed, it reminds one of Thoreau's " Week on the Concord
and Merrimack Rivers."  It is hardly possible, howvever, to
regret these episodes, since one of them  contains that rare
piece of childish autobiography, "MIariana;" which is however separated from its conitext in her collected works.
In 1844 she removed to New York.   It is not the least
of Hlor.ace Greeley's services to the nation, that he was
willing to entrust the literary criticisms of the" Tribune" to
one whose standard of culture was so far above that of his
readers or his own.  Nevertheless, there she remained for
nearly two years, making fearless use of her great opportunity of inllfluence.  She was dogmatic, egotistic, and liable
to err; but in this she did not differ firom her fellow-critics.
The point of difference was in the thoroughness of training,
to which she had submitted, - at least in certain directions,
-the elevation of her demands, her perfect independence,
and her ready sympathy.    With authors who deHanded
flattery on the one side, and a public on the other vlwhich
demanded  only intellectual substance, and was almost indifferent to literary form, she bravely asserted that literature was to be regarded as an art.   Viewing it thus, she
demanded the highest; reputations, popularity, cliques, to
her were nothing; she  mig,ht be whimsical,  but she was
alwvays independent, and sought to try all by the loftiest
standard.  If she was ever  biased by personal  conlisiderations, - and this rarely happened, -  it was always  on the
chivalrous side.
Of all Americans thus far, she seems to me to have been born
for a literary critic.  One of her early associates said well " that
she was no artist; she could never have written art epic, or
roinance, or drama; yet no one knew better the qualities
t
187 
188    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
which go to the making of these; and, though, catholic as to
kind, no one was more rigidly exacting as to quality."  She
puts this still better in her own journal:  " How  can I ever
write, with this impatience of detail?  I shall never be an
artist.  I have no patient love of execution.  I am delighted
with,aly sketch, but if I try to finish it, I am chlilled. Never
was there a great sculptor who did not love to chip the marble."
But the very ftact that she was able to make this discrimination shows  her critical discernment.  There are not a
dozen prose-writers in America who "love to chip the marble;" but so long as we  do not discover the defect, we can
neither do good work ourselves nor appreciate that of another.
All iMarg,aret Fuller's books are very defective as to fornm;
but because she saw the fault, she was able to criticise the
books of others.
She had also the rare quality of discerning both needs of
the American mind, -  originality and culture, - and no one,
except Emerson, has done so much to brIidge the passage
firom a tame and imitative epoch to a truly indigenous literature.  5Iost of us are either effeminated by education, or are
left crude and rough by the want of it.  She who so exquisitely delineated the Greek and PRoman culture in her filagment of autobiography, had yet the discernment te write
in anl essay, "It wvas a melancholy praise  bestowed 01on the
German Iphigenia, that it was an echo of the Greek mind.
Oh, give us something rather than Greece more Grecian, so
new, so universal, so individual!
It was, therefore, an event in the history of our literature,
when  a woman thus eminently gifted became the literary
critic of the New  York  "TribLine," - then, and perhaps
still, the journal p)ossessing, the  most formative  influence
over the most active class of American minds.  There were,
of course, drawbacks upon her fitness.  She was sometimes
I 
MIARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
fantastic in her likings; so are most fastidious peol)ple; so is
Emerson.   She nmight be egotistical and overbl)earin.   But
she was honest and true.  It was apt to l)e the strol)g, not
the weak, whom she assailed. Her greatest errors were commnitted in vindicating those whom others attacked, or in dethroniing popular favorites to make room for obscurer merit.
A  different course would have made her life smoother and
her memory less noblle.
In her day, as now, there were few well-tr.ained writers in
the country, and they had little leisure for criticism; so that
work was chiefly left to boys.  The  few  exceptions were
cynics, like Poe,  or universal  fla.tterers, like Willis  and
Griswold.  Into the midst of these came a woman with no
gifts for conciliation, with  no personal  attractions, with a
hab,it of saying things very explicitly and of using the first
person singular a good deal too much.  In  her volLume of
Papers on Literature and Art," published in 1846, there is
a preface of three pages in which this unpleasant gram'natical form occurs just fifty times.   This is very characteristic;
she puts the worst side foremost.  The pref.tce once ended,
the rest of the  book  seems  wise and  gentle, and only
egotistic here and there.
Or at least, nothing, need  be excepted from this claim,
except  the article on "American  Literature "-  the only
essay in the book which had not been previously publ)lished.
Gentle this was not always, nor could it be; and she furthermore apologized for it in the preface (wisely or unwisely), as
prepared too hastily for a theme so difficult, and claimed only
that it was "written with sincere and  earnest feeling,s, and
firom a mind that cares for nothiong but what is permanent
and  essential."  "It should, then," she adds, "have some
merit, if only in the power of su(ggestion."  It certainly has
such merit.  It is remarkable, after twenty years, to see how
many of her judglments have been confirmed by the public
189
i 
190    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
mind.  How  well, for instance, she  broughlt forth from
obscurity the then forgotten genius of Charles  Brockden
Brown;  how just were her delineations of Bryant, Willis,
Dana, Halleck; how well she described Prescott, then at his
culmination, -his industry, his wealth of material, his clear
and elegant arrangement, and his polished tameness!  So
much the public could endure.  It was when she touched
Longfellow and Lowell that her audience, or that portion
of it which dwelt round Boston, grew clamorously indignant.
In reverting, after twenty years, to these criticisms, one
perceives that the community must have grown more frank or
less sensitive. There seems no good reason why they should
have made so much stir.  There is no improper personality
in them, and, though they may be incorrect, they are not
unfair. She frankly confesses to "a coolness towards Mr.
Longfellow, in consequence of the exaggerated praise bestowed upon him. When we see a person of moderate
powers receive honors which should be reserved for the
hig,hest, we feel somewhat like assailing him and taking from
him the crown which should be reserved for grander brows.
And yet this is peehaps ungenerous."  She then goes on to
point out the atmosphere of overpraise which has always
surrounded this poet, - says that this is not justly chargeable
onl himself, but onl his admirers, publishers, and portraitpainters; and adds in illustration that the likeness of him in
the illustrated edition of his worlks su,ggests the impression
of a " dandy Pindar."  This phrase, I remember, gave great
offence at the time; yet, on inspection of that rather smnirking  portrait, it proves to be a flir description; and she
expressly disclaims all application of the phrase to the poet
himself.  She defends him from  Poe's charges of specific
plagiarism, and points out, very justly, that these accusations
only proceed from somethingc imitative and foreign in many
I
I 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
of his ima,ges and ill the atmosphere of much of his verse.
She says, as many have felt, that he sees nature, whether
human or external, too much throu,ghl the windows of literature, and finally assigns him his place as "a man of cultivated
taste, delicate though'  not deep feeling, and some, though not
muchl, poetic force." This may not be an adequate statement
of the literary claims of Longfellow; but it certainly does
not differ so widely from the probable final award as to give
just ground for complaint against the critic.  It is also recorded by sir. Greeley that she only consented to review
Longfellow's poems with the greatest reluctance, and at the
editor'.sparticular request, "assigning the wide divergence
of her views of poetry from  those of the author  and his
school as the reason."
Towards Lowell she showed more asperity.   Yet there was
nothingi personal in her remarks, even here;  there  was
simply anl adverse literary criticism, conveyed with a slight
air of arrogance.   To preface anl opinion with "We  must
declare it, thoughl to the grief of some friends and the disgust
of more," was undoubtedly meant for a deprecatory and
regretful expression;  but it had a sort of pompous effect
that did not  soften the subsequent  brief verdict.   She
declared him "absolutely wanting in the true spirit and
tone of poesy," with the addition that "his interest in the
moral questions of the day had supplied the want of vitality
in himself."  Even this last statement was far too strong, no
doubt.  Yet it will now be admitted by Lowell's warmest
admirers that his poetic phases have been singularly coincident
with his phases of moral enthusiasm.  His early development
of genius was united with extreme radicalism of position; then
followed many years, comprising the prime of his life, when
both his genius and his enthusiasm seemed quiescent.   It
was the unforeseen stimutlus of the war which made  him
again put on his singing  robes, for that "Commemoration
191 
192    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Ode," which is incomparably the greatest of his poems.  All
this vindicated in some degree the discernment, though it
could not justify the sweeping manner of MIargaret Fuller's
criticism; and her tone of arrogance is more than counterbalanced by the fierce personalities with which the poet retaliated upon her ill the " Fablle for Critics."
The criticisms on English poets in this collection seem to
me singularly admirable; they take rank with those of
Elizabeth Barrett Brownilng, in her " Essays on the Poets."
There are many single phrases that are unsurpassed ill
insight and expression, as where she speaks of the " strange,
bleak fidelity of Crabbl)e."  "Give Coleridge a cainv.a," she
says, "and he will paint a picture as if his colors were made
of the mind's own atoms."  "The rush, the flow, the delicacy
of vibration in Shlelley's verse can only be paralleled by the
waterfall, the rivulet, the notes of the bird and of the insect
world." "It is as yet impossible to estimate dtly the effect
which the balm of his [WAVordsworth's] meditations has had
in allaying the fever of the public heart, as exhibited in
Byron and Shelley."  This is a rare series of condensed
criticisms, on authors about whom so much has been written,
and her remarks on the new men - Sterling, Henry Taylor,
and Browning -were almost as good.  She was one of the
first in America to recognize the gernius of Browningi, and,
while his  Bells and Pomegranates" was yet in course of
publication, she placed him at the head of contemporary
English poets.
There is much beside, in these rich volumes; a brief criticism
on "Hamlet," for instance, in one of the dialocgues, vwhich is
worthy to take rank with those of Mrs. Jameson; and an essay
on "Sir James Mackintosh," which, in calm completeness and
thorough workmanship, was her best work, as it was one of
her latest. Indeed, the "Papers on Literature and Art"
always seemed to me her best book; far superior to the
I 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
"Woman in the Nineteenth Century" (published two years
previously), which was perhaps framed on too large a scale
for one who had so little constructive power. It was noblo
in tone, enlightened in its statements, and full of suggestion;
yet after all it was crude and disconnected in its execution.
But the " Papers" have been delightful reading, to me at least,
for twenty years, and I could quote many a sentence which
has passed into my bone and marrow, as have those of Emerson.  "Trag,edy is always a mistake." "The difference between
heartlessness and the want of a deep heart."  "We need to
hear the excuses men make to themselves for their worthlessness." " It needs not that one of deeply thoughtful mind be
passionate, to divine all the secrets of passion. Thought is
a bee that cannot miss those flowers." And so on.
The only complaint I should make in regard to this book
is founded on its title," Papers on Literature and Art." With
art, save as included in literature, she should not have meddled. At least, she should have dealt only with the biography and personal traits of artists, -not with their work. One
of her early friends said that the god Terminus presided over
her intellect; but to me it seems that she did not always recognize her own limits. A French wit said that there were
three thlings he had loved very much, without knowing anything, about them, - music, painting, and women. Margaret
Fuller loved all three, and understood the last.
If, however, she was thus tempted beyond her sphere, it
was less perhaps from vanity than because she yielded to the
demand popularly made on all our intellectual laborers, that
they should scatter themselves as much as possible. Literary
work being as yet crude and unorganized in America, the
public takes a vague delight in seeing one person do a great
many different things. It is like hearing a street musician
perform on six instruments at once; he plays them all ill, but
it is so remarkable that he should play them together. If we
13
193
II 
194    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
have a stirring pulpit orator, he must try his hand on a novel;
if a popular editor, he must write a history of the rebellion.
Alarg,aret Fuller, under the same influence, wrote oil painting
and music, and of course wrote badly.
As to this whole charge of vanity, indeed, there have certainly been great exaggerations. She had by inheritance
certain unpleasant tricks of manner, which gave the impression, as Emerson said, of "a rather mountainous Me."  She
was accustomed to finding herself among inferiors, and lorded
it a little in her talk. She was also obliged, as a woman, to
fight harder than others, first for an education and then for a
career. All these influences marred her, in some degree;
and those whom her criticisms wounded, made the most of
the result.  But though her most private diaries and letters
have been set before the public, I do not see that anything
has been produced which shows a petty or conceited disposition,
while she has certainly left on record many noble disclaimers. A woman who could calmly set aside all the applauses
she received for her wonderful conversation by pointing out
to herself that this faculty "bespoke a second-rate mind,"
could not have had her head turned by vanity.  At another
time she wrote in her diary, " When I look at my papers, I
feel as if I had never had a thought that was worthy the attention of any but myself; and'tis only when, onl talking
with people, I find I tell them what thev did not know, that
mny confidence at all returns."
In truth, she was not made of pure intellect; if that quality
marks men (which I have never discovered), then she
wvas essentially a woman.   "Of all whom I have known,"
wrote one of her female friends, "she was the largest woman,
and not a woman who wished to be a man." And one of her
friends of the other sex wrote of her, " The dry light which
Lord Bacon loved she never knew; her light was life, was
love, was warm with sympathy, and a boundless energy of
4 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
affection and hope."  The self-devotion of her closing years
brought no surprise to those who remembered how she had sacri ficed her most cherished plans for the sake of educating her
brothers; and how she had through all her life been ready to
spend money and toil for those around her, whenll she had little
money and no health.  She gave to the communl ity, also, the
better boon of moral courage; it showed itself most conspicuously in the telling of unwelcome truth; but it was manifested also in heroic endurance, since she was, as Mr.
Emerson has testified, "all her life the victim of disease and
pain."
Her life thus did more for the intellectual enfranchisement
of American women than was done by even her book on the
subject, though that doubtless did much, exerting a permanent influence on many minds. No one has ever given so
compact a formula for the requirements of woman. She
claims for her sex "not only equMal power with man,- for of
that omnipotent nature will never permit her to be defrauded,
-  but a chartered power, too fully recognized to be abused."
Never were there ten words which put the whole principle of
impartial suffrage so plainly as these. And even where her
statements are less clear, they always rest on wise reflection,
not on any one-sided view.  Thus, for instance, she showed
better than most her faith in the eternal laws which make
woman unlike man,- for she was ready to trust these laws
instead of legislating to sustain them.  She knew that there
was no fear of woman's  unsexing herself.   Nature has
pointed out her ordinary sphere by the circumstances of her
physical existence.  She cannot wander far.... Achilles
had long plied the distaff as a princess, yet at first sight of a
sword, he seized it. So with woman, - one hour of love
would teach her more of her proper relations than all your
formulas."
After twenty months of happy life and labor in New York,
195 
196    EMINENT WOMEN OF TIlE AGE.
she sailed for Europe, thus fulfilling the design abla,ldoaoed
eleven years before, when her home duties demanded the sacrifice.  She published in the "Trilbune" (Aug. ], 1846), a
cordial and almost enthusiastic  Farewell to New York,"
thanking the great city for all it had been to her.  She had
found no more of evil there than elsewhere, she said, and
more of sympathy, and there was at least nothing petty or
provincial. Perhaps, after visiting Europe, she thought differently. New York does not at first seem provincial to a
Bostonian, nor Paris to a New Yorker; but all great cities
boon show themselves provincial, by their disproportioned
self-estimate, their tiresome local gossip, and their inability
to tolerate real independence.  Still it was good for one, who
lived her life as strongly as MIarg,aret Fuller, to seek the
largest atmosphere she could find, and win her own emancipation at last.
Over the tragic remainder of her life I shall pass but lightly,                                 for I  have  preferred  to reverse   the  proverb and  be the
historian of her' times of peace alone. It is because they
w        e        r        e         not really her times of peace, but only her traiining for
final action; besides, it was during those years that she was
most misconstrued and maligned; and it is more interesting
to                                  dwell on this period than to add a  garland where all men
p    r    a     i    s    e. Enough to say that in that later epoch all  the  undue
self-culture of her earlier life was corrected, and all its selfd e v o t i o n                         found a  surer outlet.  That "hour of love" of
w      h ich                          she hAd  written came to her, and all succeeding hours
w        e        r        e          enriched and ennobled.  Throwing herself ill t o the
strug gle                             for a nation's life, blending this great interest with
the devotion due to her Italian husband, she lived a career
that then seemed unexampled for an American woman, though
our                                 war has since afforded many parallels. During the siege
of                                  Rome, in 1848, the greater part of her time was passed in
the hospital " dee Pellegrini," which was put under her spe
\~ 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
cial direction.  "The weather was intensely hot; her health
was feeble and delicate; the dead and dying were around her
in every sta,ge of pain and horror; but she never shrank from
the duty she had assumed."  "I have seen," wrote the American consul, Mr. Cass, "the eyes of the dying, as she moved
among them, extended on opposite beds, meet in commendation of her universal kindness."
She was married in Italy, during the year 1847, to Giovanni Angelo, Marquis Ossoli, -a man younger than herself,
and of less intellectual culture, but of simple and noble nature.
He had given up rank and station in the cause of the Roman
Republic, while all the rest of his family had espoused the
other side; and it was this bond of sympathy which first
united them.  Their child, Angelo Philip Eugene Ossoli, was
born at Rieti, September 5th, 1848. After the fall of the
republic it was necessary for them to leave Rome, and this
fact, joined with her desire to print in America her history
of the Italian struggle, formed the main reasons for their return to this country.  They sailed from Leghorn, May 17th,
1850, in the barque Elizabeth, Captain Hasty.
Singular anticipations of danger seem to have hung over
their departure.  "Beware of the sea" had been a warning
given Ossoli by a fortune-teller, in his youth, and he had
never before been on board a ship. Various omens have
combined," wrote his wvife, "to give me a dark feeling." " In
case of mishap, however, I shall perish with my husband and
child."  Againi she wrote,  It seems to me that my fiuture
on earth will soon close." "I have a vague expectation of
some crisis, I know not what.  But it has long seemed that
in the year 1850 I should stand on a plateau in the ascent of
life, where I should be allowed to pause for a while and take a
more clear and commanding view than ever before. Yet nmy
life proceeds as regularly as the fates of a Greek trageldy.
and I can but accept the pages as they turns"
I
197 
198   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
As they were leaving Florence at the last moment, letters
arrived which would probably have led them to remain in
Italy, had not all preparations been made.  And on the very
day of sailing, in Leghorn,  Margaret lingered for a final
hour on shore, almost unable to force herself to embark.  It
seemed as if there were conflicting currents in their destiny,
which held them back while they urged them forward.
Their voyage was very long, and the same shadow still
appeared to hang over them.  The captain of the barque, in
whom they had placed the greatest confidence, soon sickened
and died of malignant small-pox, and was buried off Giblraltar.  They sailed thence on June 9th.   Two days after,
the little Angelo was attacked with the same fearful disease,
and only recovered after an illness that long seemed hopeless.
On July 15th, they made the New Jersey coast at noon, and
stood to the north-east, the weather being thick, and the
wind south-east.   The passengelrs packed their trunks, assured that they should be landed at New  York the next
morning.  By nine o'clock the wind had risen to a gale, and
this, with the current, swept them much farther to the north
than was supposed.  At two and a half, A. M., the mate in
command took soundings, found twenty-one fathoms of water, pronounced all safe, and retired to his berth.  One hour
afterwards, the bark struck on Fire Island beach, just off
Long Island.
The main and mizen masts were at once cut away, but the
ship held by the bow, and careened towards the land, every
wave  sweeping over her, and carrying away every boat.
She was heavily laden with marble and soon bilged.  The
passengers hastily left their berths and collected ill the cabin,
which was already half full of water.  They braced themselves as well as they could, against the windward side.
Little Aingelo cried, the survivors say, until his mother satng
him to sleep, while Ossoli quieted the rest with prayer.
4
I
k 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
The crew were at the forward end of the vessel; and when
the wreck seemed ready to go to pieces, the second mate,
Mir. Davis, came aft to the cablin with two sailors, and helped
tLie passengers to a safer place.  This transfer was made
terribly dangerous by the breaking surf.  The captaii's wife,
who went first, was once swept away, and was caught only
by her hair.  Little Angelo was carried in a canvas bag,
hung round the neck of a sailor.
Passengers and crew were now crowded round the foremast, as the part likely to last longest.   Here they remained  for several hours.  MIen were seen  collecting on
the beach, but there was no li fe-boat. After a time, two
sailors succeeded in reaching the shore, the one with a lifepreserver, the other with a spar. Then Mr. Davis, the courageous mate, bound the captain's wife to a plank, and swam
with her to the shore, where she arrived almost lifeless.
The distance was less than a hundred yairds, but the surf
was fearful. Madame Ossoli was urged to attempt the passage as Mrs. hIasty had done, but steadily refuised to be
separated from her husband and child.  Time was passing;
the tide was out; the sea grew for the time a little calmer.
It was impossible to built a raft, and there was but this one
chance of escape before the tide returned.  Still the husband
and wife declined to be parted; and, seeing them resolute,
the first mate ordered the crew to save themselves, and most
of them leaped overboard. It was now past three o'clock;
they had been there twelve hours.  At lengthl the tide turned,
and the gale rose higher.
The after part of the vessel broke away, and the foremast
shook with every wave. From this point the accounts vary,
as is inevitable.  It seems however to be agreed, that the
few remnaining sailors had again advised the Ossolis to leave
the wreck; and that the steward had just taken little Angelo
in his arms to try to bear him ashore, when a more powerful
199
II 
200   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sea swept over, and the mast fell, carrying, with it the deck,
and all on board.  Ossoli was seen to catch for a moment at
the rigging,  and then to sink.  The last recorded glimpse of
MIargaret was when she was seated at the foot of the mast, in
her white night-dress, with her hair fallen loose about her
shoulders.
Their bodies were never found; but that of the little Angelo was cast upon the beach twenty minutes after, and was
reverently buried among the sand-hills by the sailors, one
of whom gave his chest for a coffin. The remains were
afterwards transferred to Mount Auburn cemetery, near
Boston, and there reinterred in presence of weeping kinsfolk, who had never looked upon the living beauty of the
child.
It was the expressed opinion of one who visited the scene,
a few days after, that seven resolute men could have saved
all on board  the "Elizabeth."   The  life-boat fiom  Fire
Island light-house, three miles off, was not brought to the
beach till noon, and was not launched at all.  For a time the
journals were full of the tragedy that had taken away a life
whose preciousness had not been fully felt till then.  But
uow, looking, through the vista of nearly twenty years, even
this great grief appears softened by time. The very forebodings which preceded it seem now to sanctify that doom
of a household, and take firom its remembrance the sting.
Three months before, in planning her departure, this wife
and mother had thus unconsciously accepted her coming
fate:  Safety is not to be secured by the wisest foresight.
I shall embark more composedly in our merchant-ship, praying fervently, indeed, that it may not be my lot to lose my
boy at sea, either by unlsolaced illness or amid the howling
waves; or, if so, that Ossoli, Angelo, and I may go together,
and that the anguish may be brief." Her prayer was fulfilled.
I 
MARGARET FULLER OSSOLI.
The precious manuscript, for whose publication her friends
and the friends of Italy had looked with eagerness, was lost
in the shipwreck.  Her remaining works were reprinted in
Boston, a few years later, under the careful editorship of her
brother Arthur; - that "Chaplain Fuller," who had been
educated by her self-sacrifice, and who afterwards gailned a
place beside hers, in the heart of the nation, by his heroic
death at Fredericksburg, during the late rebellion. I-Ier
biography has also been amply written by the friends whom
she would most readily have selected for the task, MIessrs.
Emerson, Clarke, and Channin,g.
Since her day, American literature has greatly widened its
base, but has raised its summit no higher.   There is a multiplicity of books and magazines, and a vast illncrease of untrained literary activity. Yet, not only has she had no
successor among women, but we still miss throuoghout our
criticism  her  culture, her  insight, her fearlessness, her
generous sympathies, and her resolute purpose to apply the
highest artistic standard to the facts of American life. It is
this sense of loss that is her true epitaph.  It was said to
have been Fontenelle's funeral oration, when the most brilliant woman in France, having uttered after his death a
witticism too delicate for her audience, exclaimed sadly,
Fontenelle! where are you?"   And so every American
author, who has a higher aim than to amuse, or a nobler test
of merit than his publishers' account, must feel that something is wanting while  Margaret  Fuller's place remains
unfilled.
0
201 
e
202   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
GAIL HAMILTON-MISS DODGE.
BY FANNY FERN.
"WILL I write a sketch of Gail Hamilton?"  Will I touch
off a Parrott gun? I thought, an;  will it "kick" if I do?
However, I ventured to send the following missive: -
" MY DEAR MISS DODGE, OTHERWISE GAIL HAMILTON: - A
book is in prospect.  Many of our well-known literary people are to write for it.  Its title is to be'Eminent Women
of the Time.' You and I are to be in it. I am to do you.
Who is to serve me up, the gods only know. Will you be
good enough to inform me at your earliest convenience, when
and where you cut your first tooth, whether you had the
measles before the mumps, or the mumps before the measles;
also, any other interesting items about yourself.
Writing about you will be a labor of love with me; for
although a stranger to you, save through your writings, I
rejoice every day in your existence.
"Please send an early answer.
"Yours, etc.,
"FANNY FERN."
In a few days I received the following reply: -
et IY DEAR MRS. FERN: -The coolness of you New
Yorkers is astonishing.  You are about to burn me at tho
., 
GAIL HAMILTON.
stake, and will I have the goodness to send on shavings alid
dry wood by the next mail?
"Thank you, ma'am, I will.
" LIFE AND SUFFERINGS OF
" GAIL HAMILTON.
"4WRITTEN BY ITSELF.  AND WITH FORMER TRANSLATIONS DILIGENTLY
COMPARED AND REVISED.
"To the best of my knowledge and belief, I was born in
the'New York Independent,' some time during the latter half
of the present century, and before the'Independent' had been
annexed to the domains of Theodore, King of Abyssinia,
against whom the great powers have just advanced an expedition. Simultaneously, or thereabouts, I was also born ill the
'National Era.'  So I must be twins.  On that ground it has
never been satisfactorily settled, whether I am myself or Mrs.
Simpson, of Washington.  If I am Mrs. Simpson, I anm the
wife of an officer, who, to his infinite regret, was not killed in
the late unpleasantness, and am a lineal descendant of that
Simple Simon, who once went a-fishing for to catch a whlale,
though all the water that he had was ill his mother's pail.
If I am not Launcelot, nor another, but only my own self, I
am like MIlelchisedec, without father, without mother, without descent, and my enemies fear, also, I have no end of life.
On one point comnmeutat6rs are agreed,-  that I am not an
'Eminent Woman' of my time, and therefore have no part
nor lot in your book.  In fact I am
" Neither man nor wvoman,
I am neither brute nor human,
I'm a ghoul!
"And all that I ask is to be let alone. From the' Independenit' I graduated into the'Congregationalist,' of blessed
memory; and from the'Era' I paddled over into the'Atlantic.'  I flourish in immortal vigor on the cover of' Our
203 
204    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Young Folks,' and at sundry times, and in livers other manners and places, have, I fear, contributed to the deterioration
of our youth.  I sadly confess, also, that I am guilty of as
many books as Mrs. Rogers had small children; but being
written in love, and in the spirit of meekness, they are held
in high esteem, especially of men.   Whereunlto I also add,
like St. Paul, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of
all the churches.
Such, unhappy fellow-sufferer, is my thrilling story.  If
any one shall add unto these things, let him tremble lest I
imprecate upon him all the plagues of the Apocalypse; and
if any person shall dare saddle any other man or woman with
the sins which I alone have perpetrated, I say prophetically
to such saddler,'Lord Angus, thou hast'
Thanking, you for your friendly words, and rejoicing, like
King David in his great strait, that I am not to fall into the
hands of man,
"I am very respectfully,
"GAIL HAiMILTON.
Respectfully, that is, if you respect my rights; but I
shall have a lifelong quarrel even with you, if you spread before the public anything which I myself have not given to
the public. I have really very strong opinions on that point;
and, notwithstanding its commonness, I consider no crime
more radically heinous than the violation of privacy. You
must have suffered from it too severely yourself to be surprised at any abhorrence of it on my part. I most heartily
wish you could find it in your plan to leave me out in the
cold.  Of course, if you judge from my writings that I am
a woman, you can say what you please about that woman,
that writer, and I have neither the wish nor the right to say
you nay. So much of the woman as appears in an author's
writings is public property by her own free will. All the
I 
GAIL HAMILTON.
rest belongs to her reserved rights.  I pray you speak, if
speak you must, so wisely as to make this clear.  Launch
thunderbolts, or sing songs, as you find fit; but read the preface of my first book,'Country living and Country Thinking,' and govern yourself accordingly; and I shall be, without
any condition, and poatively the last time,
Yours very truly,
GAIL HA-IILTON."
Upon the receipt of this I wrote again, requesting permission to give the public the above characteristic epistle;
which I told her was altogether too good to be buried in my
desk; adding that, if she wanted me to behlve prettily, she
should not threaten me, as a threat always made me "balky;"
that it was quite useless also, because I wished and intended
to handle her as tenderly as would her own " manmmy."  I
received a reply, of which this is a part:
"DEAR FANNY: - Do whatever you like with the letter; I
don't care, and don't think you'must handle me tenderly.'
Say anything, and everything you like; storm or shine within
your'sphere.'  You don't like threats: strange, -but I will
give you one more. If you do write a paper on me, and do
not put in any of those impertinences which are so common
in newspapers, but confine yourself to that which is common
and lawful plunder, I shall not only put you a notch higher
than the general run of people, but I shall keep a select corner for you in my private regard and gratitude, where you
can come and take a nap by yourself, any time.  Now'balk'
if you dare I
GAIL HAMILTON."
This, dear reader, by way of preface. Now allow me to say
that there are only two things in this world I am afraid of, -
205 
206    EMINENT VWOMIEN OF THE AGE.
one is a mouse, the other is a woman. My first impulse on
being brought face to face with either, is to jump upon the
nearest chair or table. Judge, then, how dear the public must
seem, in my eyes, when, ignoring this my chronic terror, I
boldly march up to the indomitable lady, whose name graces
the head of this article, and attempt to sketch her: A lady,
at whose mention stalwart men have been known to tremble,
and hide in conlers; who "keeps a private graveyard  "for
the burial of those whom she has mercilessly slain; who
respects neither the spectacles of the judge, nor the surplice
of the priest; who holds the mirror up to men's failings
till they hate their wives merely because they belong to her
sex;  this lady who  blushes  not to own that she  is "a
Ghoul," -who lately impaled the Rev. Dr. Todd on the
point of her lance, and left him writhing without so much as
pouring a drop of oil on to his wounds, or bathing his very
soft head; this lady who keeps defiantly doing it, although
she has been told that notwithstaldiliig she has amassed several pennies, the fruits of these wicked promulgations, and
deposited the same in banks for a rainy day, the sex whom she
defies may, contrary to their usual custom in such cases, refuse
,ven to nibble at that bait, and doom her to die, without a
chance to sew on shirt-buttons, or " seat" a pair of trowsers.
One naturally inquires how such a female monster came
to exist?  In other and more ele(gant phrase, " whLat di it?"
WVas she, like Romulus and Remus, suckled by a she-wolf in
her infancy?  Were vipers her cherished toys in childhood?
WAas her youth defrauded of the usual sugar-plums that she
keeps on making mouths a$ her fellow-creatures in this way?
Or, what is still more important to ascertain, is there any way
she could be pacified, or bought otf, or " shut up," from this
infernal attempt to set women upon their feet, and to trip
men from off theirs.
To convince you how pertinent is my question, I will
Jo 
GAIL HAMILTON.
quote ill this connection a few of her most incendiary passages: -
"It costs a woman just as much to live as it does a man.
If men were willing to practise the small economies that
women practise, they could live at no greater expense."
Man is a thief, and holds the bag, and if women do not
like what they get, so much the better. They will be all the
more willing to become household drudges."
Make a man understand that he shall eat his dinner like
a gentleman, or he shall have no dinner to eat.  If he will
be crabbed and gulp, let him go down into the coal-bin and
have it out alone; but do not let him bring his Feejee-ism into
the dining-room, to defile the presence of his wife, and corrupt the manners of his children."
"A woman should dress so as to be grateful to her husband's eye, I grant; nay, I enjoin; and he is under equally
strong obligations to dress so as to be grateful to her eye. I
have heard a woman say variety in dress is necessary in order
that her husband may not be wearied.   But does a man ever
think of having several winter coats, or summer waistcoats,
so that his wife may not weary of him?  And if a manl buys
his clothes, and wears them according to his needs, why shall
not a woman do the same?  Is there any law or gospel forcing a woman to be pleasant to her husband, while the husbandcl is left to do that which is right in his own eye?  Or are
the visual org ans of a man so much more exquisitely arranged
than those of a woman, that special adaptations must be made
to them, while a woman may see whatever happens to be a la
mode?  Or has a manes dress intrinsically so much more
beauty and character than a woman's that less pains need be
taken to make it charming?"
"Take example from the toad," Gail says to her sisters;
swallow your dress, not precisely in the same sense, but as
207 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
effectually. Overpower, subordinate your dress, till it shall
be only a second cuticle, not to be distinguishled firom yourself, but a natural element of your universal harmony."
" Women's work is a round of endless detail.  Little insignificant, provoking items, that she gets no credit for doing,
but fatal discredit for leaving undone.    Nobody  notices
that things are as they should be; but if things are not as
they should be, it were better for her that a millstone were
hanged about her neck."
The best women, the brightest women, the noblest women,
are the very ones to whom house-keeping is the most irksome.
I do not mean house-keeping with well-trained servants; for
that is general enough to admit'a brother near the throne,'
but that alas! is almost unknown in the world wherein I have
lived; and a woman who is satisfied with the small economies,
the small interests, the constant contemplation of small things
which a household demands, is a very small sort of woman.
I make the assertion both as an inference and as an observation.  A  noblle discontent, not a peevish complaining, btlt
a universal and a spontaneous protest, is a woman's safeguard
against the deterioration which such a life threatens, and her
proof of capacity, and her note of preparation for a higher.
Such a woman does not do her work less well, but she rises
superior to her work."
" Allen do not believe, so much as they profess to, this menial
gravitation. If they did they would never lecture women so
much about it. TThe very frenzy and frequency of their exhortations are sustpicious."
" Some men dole out money to their wives as if it were a
gift, a charity, something to which the latter have no right,
but which they must receive as a favor, and for which they
must be thankful. Now a man has no more right to his earnings than his wife has; they belong to her as much as to him.
As a general rule the fate and fortunes of the family lie in her
208
I
I 
GAIL lHAMILTON.
hallds as much as in his.  What absurdity to pay hinm his
wages and to give her money to go shopping with!
The money should be regularly and mechanically supplied
to her as the dinner, exciting, no more comment, and needing
no more argument.  Whether it is kept in her pocket or his
may be of small moment; but as she does not lock up the
dinner in the cupboard,  and tlhen stand  at the door andcl
dole it out to him by the plateful, but sets it on the table for
him to help himself, so it is better and more pacific that he
should deposit the money in an equally neutral and accessible
locality.  I portray to myself the flutter which such a proposition wouldl raise in many marital bosoms.   Would that they
milght be soothed.  It is well known among farmers that hens
will not cat so much if you set a measure of corn where they
can pick whenever they choose, as they will if you only fling
a handful now  and then, and keep them continually halfstarved.  At the same time they will be in better condition.
So, looking at the matter from the very lowest stand-point, a
woman who has free access to the money will not be half so
likely to l.tvishl it, as the woman who is put off witlh scanty
and ilnfrequent sums.
"It is marvellous to see the insensibility with Whlich men
manag,e these delicate matters.  It is impossible for a man to
be too scrupulous, too chivalrous, too refined, in his bearing
towvards his wife. The very act of receivil)g moneyfiroul hini
puts her in a position so equivocal that the utmost affection
and attention should be brought into play to reassure her.
Yet men will deliberately, in the presence of their wives,
to their wives, groanl over the cost of living.  They do not
mean extravaganit purchases of silk and velvet which niight
be a wvife's fault or thoughtlessness, and furnish an excuse
for rebluke; but the butcher's bill, and the grocer's bill, and
the joitier's bill.   Manl, when a woman isb married, do  you
think she loses all personal feeling?  Do  you think your
209
14
0 
ESIINENT  VWOMIEN OF TIlE AGE.
glum look over the expenses of house-keeping, is a fulfilment
of your promise to love and cherish? Does it bring sunshine,
and lighten toil, and bless her with knightly grace?  Do you
not know that it is only a way of regretting that you married
her?   You go out to your shop, or sit down to your newspaper, and forget all about it.  She sits down to her sewing, or
stands over her cooking-stove, and meditates upon it with indescribable pain.  These very men, whlo complain because it
costs so much to live, will lose by bad debts more than their
wives spend; they will, by sheer negligence, by a selfish
reluctance to present a bill to a disagreeable person, by a
cowardly fear lest insisting on what is due should alienate a
customer, -by indorsing a note, or lending money, through
mere want of courage to say No, - lose money enough to foot
up a dozen bills.  They waste money in cigars; in sending,
packages by express, rather than have the trouble to take
them themselves; in buying luxuries which they were better without. A man is persistently, perversely, and with
malice aforethought, extravagant. He is so, in spite of admonition and remonstrance.  Where his personal conmfort or
interest is concerned, he scorns a sacrifice. He laughs at the
suggestion that such a little thing makes any difference one
way or another."
This is a long, extract from Miss Hamilton, but every word
is solid gold, and should be printed and framed and hung up
in every husband's     well, wheresoever he keeps his cigars,
so that hlie would be sure to see it. I myself have heard a
man ask a wife who had borne them twelve children, and who
was an economical, painstakilig, thrifty house-keeper, "What
she did with the last dollar he gave her?"  True, men do not
like to see this unpleasant reflection of themselves in our authlor's glass; but that is no reason why she should smash it.
.And as she once remarked to a married lady, who told her
210 
GAIL HAMILTON.
that her husband was greatly incensed at her mention of such
things:   Well, - let him rasp, - he is no husband of
mine!"
At this safe distance, thisParrott gun of a woman explodes
the following, for which I confess a hearty relish:
"A father goes into the nursery, and has a merry romp
with his children; but when he is tired, or they take too
many liberties, he goes out, and thinks his children very
charming,.  When papa comes in, the children are often hurried out of sight and sound, for they will'disturb papa.'
This kind woman shuts them up carefully withit' her own
precincts.  They may overrun her without stint.  They may
climb her chair, pull her work about, upset her basket, scratch
the bureau, cut the sofa, turn to her for healing in every little heartache; but no matter. They are kept from'disturbing papa!' I am amazed at the folly of women!  Kept from
distiubing papa!  Rather hound them on!  Put the crying
baby in his arms the moment he enters the house, and be
sure to run away at once beyond reach, or, with true masculine ingenuity, he will be sure at the end of five minutes to
find some pretext for delivering the young orator back into
your care.  He ought to experience their obviousness, their
inconvenience, their distraction.  Let him come into close contact with his children, and see what tlhey are, and what they
do, and he will have far more just ideas of the whole subject
than if he stands far off, andfyom old theories on the one side,
and ten nminutes of clean apron and bright faces on the other,
pronounces his euphonious generalizations.  His children will
elicit as much love and interest, together with a great deal
more knowledge, and a great deal less silly, manaiiish sentimentalism."
I italicize the last sentence, as one of the choicest and most
211 
212    EMINENT WOMEN OF- THE AGE.
sensible verses in Miss Gail's new gospel. i really think 1
couldn't have done better myself I                      -
Read this, too:
"Men often have too much confidence in their measuringlines. They fancy they have fathomed a soul's depths when
they have but sounded its shallows. They think they have
circumnavigated the globe, when they have only paddled in a
cove.   They trim their sails for other seas, leaving the
priceless gems of their own undiscovered.  Many a wife is
wearied and neglected into moral shabbiness, who, rightly
entreated, would have walked sister and wife of the gods."
As our author's books are for sale, perhaps I should remember the fact, and curb my desire to copy all her very
just and very intrepid sayings; but here is one which every
husband should pin into the crown of his hat: —
"Men, -you to whose keeping, a womanl's heart is en
trusted, - can you heed this simple prayer, Love me, and tell
me so sometimzes?"
Our author has probably heard husbands reply to this:
"Why, thcat is of course understood; it is childish to wish or
expect such a thing put into words."  Nowv, without stopping
to discuss the " childishness" of it, if it makes a wife happier, is it wise, or best, for a husband to overlook that fact?
And sure I am, many a wife loses all heart for her monotonous round of duties for the want of it; beside, when
men the world over have promulgated the fact that women
are but   grown-up children," where's the harm of being
childish?"
Does not Gail Hamilton see anything commendable, or virtuous, or honorable, or manly in men? is the question some
I
;v 
GAIL HAMILTON.
times propounded by them; after which follows this slut,gshot: " She must have been very unfortunate in her selection
of male acquaintances."
Leaving this last unworthy slur in the kennel where it
belongs, listen to the following from the lady in question: -
Every-day occurrences reveal in men traits of disinter estedness, consideration, all Christian virtues and graces.
My heart misgives me when I think of it all, - their loving
kindness, their forbearance, their unstinted service, their integrity, and of the not sufficiently unfrequent instances in
which women, by fretfulness, folly, or selfishness, irritate
and alienate the noble heart which they oulght to prize above
rubies.  Considering the few good husbands there are in the
world, and how many good women there are, who would
have been to them a crown of glory had the coronation been
effected, but who instead are losing all their pure gems down
the dark, unfathomed caves of some bad manl's heart; considering this, I account that woman to whom has been allotted a good husband, and who can do no better than to spoil
him and his happiness by her misbehavior, guilty, if not of
the unpardonable sin, at least of unpardonable stupidity.   I
could make out a long listof charges against women, and of
excellences to be set down to the credit of men. But women
have been stoned to death, or at least to coma, with charges
already; and when you would extricate a wagon from a
-slough, you put your shoulder first and heaviest to the wheel
that is the deepest in the nmud; especially if the other wheel
would hardly be in at all unless this one had pulled it in!"
There - after this who shall speak? Not I. It is a fitting
finale to the whole subject. Gail Hamilton needs no lawyer
when her case appears in court. But there may exist benig,hted human beings who have not read her summing,s up;
213 
214    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
or have declined reading them, because it is so much easier to
decide upon a question when you only look at one side of it,
For their benefit I have culled a few nettles, whose wholesome pricking may let out some bad blood, and prepare for
them a more healthful mental and moral condition.  There is
no necessity for thanks on their part, as the workl has really
been its own reward.
Now, if my readers suppose that there is " no fun;' in our
author, or that she looks only at the shady side of every
subject, let them read the following extract firom her "GalaDays -
"I don't know how it is, but in all the novels that I have
read, the heroines always have delicate, spotless, exquisite
gloves, which are continually lying about in the garden paths,
and which lovers are constantly picking up, and pressing to
their hearts and lips, and treasuring in little golden boxes
or something, and saying how like that soft glove, pure and
sweet, is to the beloved owner; and it is all very pretty,-but
I cannot think how they manage it.  I am sure I should be
very sorry to have my lovers go about picking up my gloves.
I don't have them a week before they change color; the
thumb gapes at the base, the little finger rips away from the
next one, and they all burst out at the ends; a stitch drops
in the back, and slides down to the wrist before you know it
is started.  You can mend, to be sure, but for every darn
you've twenty holes. I admire a dainty glove as much as
any one; I look with enthusiasm not unmingled with despair,
at these gloves of romance; but such things do not depend
entirely upon taste, as male writers seem to think. A pair of
gloves cost a dollar and a half, or two dollars, and when you
have them, your lovers do not find them in the summerhouse.  Why not?  Because they are lying snugly wrapped
in oiled silk in the upper bureau-drawer, only to be.taken out 
GAIL HAMILTON.
on great occasions.  You  would as soon thinkl of wearing
Victoria's crown for a head-dress as those gloves on a picnic.
So it happens that the gloves your lovers find will be sure to
be Lisle thread, and dingy and battered at that; for how can
you pluck flowers, and pull vines, and tear away mosses,
without getting them dingy and battered?  And the most
fastidious lover in the world cannot expect you to buy a new
pair every time. For me, I keep my gloves as long.its the
backs hold together, and go around for forty-five weeks
of the fifty-two with my hands clenched into fists to cover
omissions."
And now you will naturally say to me, -  This is all very
well; but tell us something about her personally.  Where
does she live; and how?  Is she single or wedded?  Is she
tall or short?  Plain or pretty?  Has she made money as
well as made mouths?  In short, let us have a little gossip.
That's what we are after.
Don't I know it?   I should thilnk I had been laid on the
gridiron times enough myself to understand yotir al)ppetite.
W~ell -  here goes.    Gail Hiamilton's" real name is Mary
Abigail Dodge. HIer birthplace is in IHamilton, Maassalchusetts.  She is unmarried, a Cailvinist, and an authoress from
choice.  Her father was a fatrmer.  Her mother produced
Gail Hamilton; that is sufficient as far as she is colncerned.
She had a brother, who Mrs. Grundy declares is the " lalicarnassus" mentioned in her books, and whom the men she
has flag'ellated in her writings call "poor devil! " supplosing
him to be her husband!
She was brought up as New England girls are generally
brought up in the country-, simnply, healthfully, purely;
with plenty of fences for gymnastics; with -plenty of berries,
and birds, and flowers, and mosses, and clover-blossoms, and
fruit, in the sweet, odorous summers; with plenty of romping
215 
216   EM1INENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
companions, not subjects for early tombstones and obituary
notices, but with broad chests, sun-kissed faces, anld nimble
limbs and tongues,- children who behaved naturally for their
age; who twitched away books and balls from their owners,
and pouted, and sometimes struck, and often got mad, and
strutted when they wore fine clothes, and told lies, -" real
whoppers,"- and took the bi,ggest half of the apple, and
were generally a,ggravating, as exuberant, healthy childhood
always is.
Then little Mary had other companions less a,ggressive in
the birds, the  bees,  and the grasshoppers.   She  went
Maying, too, on May  moriingis, as every true-)orn New
England child should, as I myself have done, whether the sky
were blue or black;  whether she shivered or was warm in a
white gown; whether the May-flowers were in blossom for
Mllay-da,y wreaths, or the snow-flakes were  coming  down
instead.  She had chickens, too, and when they first came,
she fbd them with soaked and sweetened cracker; later, she
miadcle fricassees of them, and omelets of their e,ggs.  She
had three cats; one, named Molly after herself; anothler, a
hideols, saffron-colored, forlorn, little  wretlch, that was
abandoned by an Irish famnily, and which  she felicitously
baptized Rory.O'More.  This cat one day crept into the oven.
Mlary, ignorant of the fact, shut the door, wishingi to retain
the heat.  Itearing a stifled "mew," she opened it, and out
flew the cat and plunged throug,h the house outside into the
nearest snow-bank, fiom whence she emerged, with true Irish
elasticity, right-end up, and as good as new.  The third cat
little Mary housed was a perfect savage; her nmistress never
being, able to catch sight of her save in her fierce and light ning-like transits through the house.  These cats fotught each
other, scratched, and made the fur fly, stole chliclkens, and
gave that zest and excitement to her childish days which
'might well astonish our city-prisoned urchins, —shut up) with 
GAIL HAMILTON.
a cross French nurse, to keep their silk dresses clean, in a
nursery, firom whose windows the only view is a dead brick
wall.
Then she rode to mill ill an old wagon, with mammoth
wheels, painted green outside and drab withill, with a miovable scat, on which was placed a buffalo-robe for a cushion.
-After little MIary had taken her seat, the wagon was backed
up to the gate, the "tailboard" let down, and huge bags of
tow-cloth filled with shelled coTn were placed ill the cart to
be ground, then transformed into Johnny-cakes, brown bread,
and Indian puddingo.  As  they were put beside her, this
imaginative little girl fancied that they might resemble those
of Joseph's brethren, mentioned in the Bible, which were
carried down into Egypt, with plenty of room in every sack's
mouth for a silver cup and corn-money.
When all these bags were safely deposited in the mill,
and little MIary and the old horse started for home, who
happier than she?  The rough gates, which opened to let
them through, seemed to turn on golden hiinges.  Her quick
eye     noted the branches of feathery fern, the panilting cows,
standing knee-deep in the cool water, and even the stagnant
pool          which she knew would by and by blossom forth with
pure      white lilies; while the yellow blossoms of the barberry
hedge  would ripen to crimson clusters in the crisp days of
the       coming autumn; this barberry bush, around which she
joine d hands with her little romping companions, and sang: -
As we go round the barberry bush,
The barberry, barberry, barberry bush;
As we go round the barberry bush,
So early in the morning;
This is the way we wash our clothes,
We wash, we wash, we wash our clothes;
This is the way we wash our clothes,
So early in the morning.
217 
218    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Then Mary and her companions would imitate the washing of
clothes and the ironing, and woe to her who should first lose
breath in doilng'it.
Then there were the lovely New England country Sundlays,
heralded by the song of birds, and odor of blossoms, and
creeping away of mist firom valley and mountain, as the
warm sun gladdened every living, thing.  Every New Englander klnows what that is without farther preface.
Sundays to little Mary, under these conditions, were not
prisons or chains.  They were best clothes, with a pleasant,
clovery smell in them when they  were  taken out of the
drawer to be worn.  Sunday was baked beans, and a big,
red Bible with the tower of Babel in it full of little bells,
and a lovely walk two miles through a lane full of sweetness and bird-singing; over the bars, through tell acres, over
another pair of bars, through a meadow, over another pair
of bars, by a hill, over a wall, through another meadow,
through the woods, over the ridge, by Black Pond, over a
fence, across a railroad, over another fence, through a pasture,
through the long woods, through another gate, out upon the
high road at last.
Then, as our little girl was no diseased, embryo saint,
during the long service, which she could not understand, she
looked at the people and the fine bonnets around her, and
never was she willing to stay at home, be the service ever so
long.  Then she went to Sunday school, where the children
on coming out used to say, "I think your ribbon is prettier
than mine." "Is your veil like Susy's?"    Why don't you
wear your blue dress to meeting?"  "Do  you know Joe
got fourteen perch yesterday?" And she read the librarybooks and ate gingerbread ill the interim, and then came the
afternoon service, and then the long,, pleasant ride home, and
then the catechism in the evening, and the unfailing big red 
GAIL HAMILTON.
Bible. And this is the brilliant tribute of her maturer years
to the New England, much-reviled Sabbaths:
" 0 Puritan Sabbaths! doubtless you were sometimes
stormy without and stormy within; but, lookiing back iupon
you from afar, I see no clouds, no snow, but perpetual sunshine and blue sky, and ever eager interest and delight;
wild roses blooming under the old stone wall; wild bees
humming  among the blackberry bushes; tremulous, sweet
columbines skirting the vocal wooclds;  wild geraniums startliug their shadowy depths; and I hear now the rustle of
dry leaves, bravely stirred by childish feet, just as they used
to rustle in the October afternoons of  long, ago.  Sweet
Puritan Sabbaths! breathe upon a restless world your calm,
still breath, and keep us from the evil I"
To-day, Gail Hamilton is not only independent in thought
and expression, but I am happy to say, in pocket.   She
is also a living, breathing, brilliant refiltation of the absurd
notionl that a woman with brains must necessarily be ignorant
of, or disdain, the every-day domestic virtues.  When she
writes of house-keeping and kindred matters, she knows what
slie is talking about.   All the New  England virtues of
thrift, executiveness, thoroughness -in short, "faculty"-  are
exemplified in her daily practice.  Well may there be sunshine inside her house; well may the flowers in her garden
bloom, and the fruits ripen, skilfully tended by such  fingers!
One piece of advice before I close I will volunteer to the
mnale sex who "desire to keep clear of a woman like that."
Let them consider it a heaven-sent impulse; as several rash
gentlemen, who, to my personal knowledge, disregarded it,
have with base ingratitude towards the tame of her species,
219 
220   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
who fully endorsed their seraphic qualities, not only upon
personal acquaintance with her, forgiven her for smiting them
on one cheek, but voluntarily and lovingly have turned the
other. Forewarned -forearmed!  
iiL ~ ~ ~~~ ~~i~ ~ ~~>~~~~~ 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
BY EDWARD Y. HIINCKS.
'ITERE has probably lived within the past century no woman whose genius, character, and position are more full of
interest than Mrs. Browuing's.  She was not only far above
all the female poets of her age, but ranked with the first
poets. She was not only a great poet, but a greater woman.
She loved and honored art, but she loved and honored humanity more.  Born and reared in England, her best affections were given to Italy, and her warmest friends and most
enthusiastic admirers are found in America. And when to
her rare personal endowments is added the fact that she was
the wife of a still greater poet than herself, what is needed to
make her the most remarkable woman of this, perhaps of any,
age?
And, as there is no woman in whose life and character we
may naturally take a greater interest, so there is none whom
we have better facilities of knowing.  Of the ordinary materials out of which biographies are made, her life indeed
furnishes few.  Its external incidents were not many nor
marked. The details of her family life have been very properly kept fromn the public. The publication of her letters
has been deferred until after her husband's death. But what
Mrs. Browning thought, felt, and was, is revealed with almost
unexampled clearness in her writings. With all her genius
she possessed in full measure the artlessness of her sex. Her
221 
222    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
theory of poetry, too, was that it was but the expression of
the poet's inner nature.  Hence, as might be expected, her
poems are but transparent media for the revelation of herself.
Her queenly soul shines through them as wine through a crystal vase.' Her friendships, her love, her grief, her patriotism,
her philanthropy, her religion-all are in them simply and
unaffectedly revealed to us. To obtain a correct conception of
Mrs. Browning, therefore, we must study her character as revealed in her poems, aided, of course, by the light which our
scanty knowledge of the events of her outward life will afford.
As the result of our study we shall find that whatever fault we
may be compelled to find with the artist, we cannot withhold
our entire and hearty admiration for the character of the woman.  We  shall find that her genius, far from marring, exalted and ennobled her womanhood.  We shall feel that the
poet was greater than her poems.
Elizabeth )Barrett Barrett was born in London, in 1809.
Her father was a private gentleman in opulent circumstances.
Hier early life was passed partly in London, partly in the
county of Herefordshire, in sight of the Malvern Hills.  One
of her minor poems, " The Lost Bower," describes with her
peculiar power of graphic picturing the scenery surroiunding
her early home.
" Green the land is where my daily
Steps in jocund childhood played,
Dimpled close with hill and valley,
Dappled very close with shade;
Summer snow of appleo'blossoms running up from glade to glade.
"Far out, kindled by each other,
Shining hills on hills arise,
Close as brother leans to brother,
When they press beneath the eyes
or some father praying blessings
From the gifts of Paradise." 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNJNG.  223
The whole poem, which is one of its author's simplest and
sweetest, is well worthy of study for its autobiographical interest. It gives us the picture of a dreamy and thoughtful,
but not morbid child, lovingo to ramble in the wild wvood's,
which her fancy peopled with the heroes and heroines of old.
MIrs. Browning was a child of remarkable precocity.   She
wvrote verses at ten, mid appeared in print at the age of fifteen.
In the dedication to her father of the edition of her poems
which appeared in 1844, she pleasantly speaks "of the time
far off when I was a child and wrote verses, and when I dedicated them to you who were my public andcl my critic."  This
childish precocity was not an indication of early ripening
genius.   Her powers matured slowly.   She wrote very
crudely when past thirty.   She never attained her full maturity.  MIiss Barrett's education was such as a woman rarely
receives. She was tatught in classics, philosophy, and science.
Her acquaintance with Greek literature was very extensive.
It embracedl, not only the great classic authors, but also
many of the fathers, and the Greek Christian poets. She
studied Greek under the instruction of her bl;nd friend, the
Rev. Hugth Stuart Boyd, to whom she afterward dedicated
the poem entitled "The Wine of Cyprus," in which she thus
pleasantly alludes to the hours they had spent together: -
" And I think of those long morninlgs
Which my thought goes far to seek,
When, betwixt the folio's turnings,
Solemn flowed the rhythmic Greek.
Past the pane the mountain spreading
Swept the sheep-bell's tinkling noise,
While a girlish voice was reading,
Somewhat low for at s and 0o s."
And then she goes on to give in a word or two, with that
happy facility in hitting off the leading features of a great
genius in a single phrase, which is one of her most no 
224     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ticeable characteristics, the impression made upon teacher and
pupil by each author as they read.
But she was not merely a passive recipient of knowledge;
"For we sometimes gently wrangled,
Very gently, be it said,
Since our thoughts were disentangled
By no breaking of the thread! I
And I charged you with extortions
On the nobler fames of old;
Ay, and sometimes thought your Porsons
Stained the purple they would fold."
But it may be doubted whether Mrs. Browning was a thorough and scientific student of the Greek langtuage.  If she
had been so, the effect of such study would have been to correct her taste, and render much of her language less obscure.
Indeed, in spite of her wide reading, one can but form the impression firom perusing her writings that she did not receive
a thorough and systematic mental training.  Had she been
able to receive the drill of the grammar school and university
she might have used her extraordinary natural gifts to far
greater advantagre.
Miss Barrett's first published volume was a small book entitled "An Essay upon Mind and other Poems," published in
1826.   The "Essay on Mind" was an ambitious and immature production, in heroic verse, which the author omitted from
the collection of her poems which she afterward made, and
which is in consequence rarely to be found. A critic ill the
Edinburgh Review" speaks of it as neither possessing much
intrinsic merit nor givinl great promise of originality, but as
"remarkable for the precocious audacity with which it deals
with the greatest names in literature and science."
In 1833 she pul-)ished a translation of the  Prometheus
Bound" of Eschylus.  This translation was severely criticised at the time of its publication, and Miss Barrett herself 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.  225
was so dissatisfied with it that she executed an entirely new
version, which was included in a subsequent collection of her
poems.
In 1835 she formed an acquaintance with Mary Russell
Mitford, which soon ripened into intimacy. To this intimacy
the public are indebted for Mrs. Browning's charming little
poem, addressed "To Flush, my Dog"  (Flush was a gift
from Miss Mitford), and for the oft-quoted description of
M,iss Barrett as a young lady in ]er friend's "Recollections of
a Literary Life."
This sketch is so graphic, and gives so much information
not elsew,here to be found, that we must quote from it a few
extracts.
Miss Mitford thus describes her friend as she appeared at
the age of twenty-six: —
"Of a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark curls
falling on either side of a most expressive face, larg,e, tender
eyes, richly fritged by darkl eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam, and such a look of youthfuilness that I had some difficulty ill persuad(ling a friend that the translatress of the'Promletheus' of A schylus, the authoress of the'Essay on Mind,'
was old enough to be introduced into company."
The next year Mrs. Browning met with that unfortunate
accident which, with the yet sadder casualty of which it was
the indistinct occasion, cast a dark shadow over her life.  A
blood-vessel was ruptured in one of her lung,s. A milder
climate beilg dleemed necessary for her recovery, she went,'
in company with her eldest and favorite brother, to Torquay.
There she remained nearly a year, and was rapidly gaining
in vigor, when that sad event occurred which nearly killed
her by its shock, and saddened much of her future life. Her
brother was drowned while on a sailing excursion, within
15..
* * *.:: 
226   EMINENT WOOEN OF THE AGE.
sight of the windows of the house in which she lived.  Even
his body was never found.
This tragedy," writes her friend, " nearly killed Elizabeth
Barrett. She was utterly prostrated by the horror and the
grief, and by a natural but most unjust feeling that she had
been in some sort the cause of this great misery....
She told me herself that, during the whole winter, the sounds
of the waves rang in her ears like the moans of one dying."
The depth of her anguish nugy be imagined fiom the fact that,
as another friend tells us, when about to be married ten years
after, she exacted from her husband a promise never to refer
to her brother's death.   So prostrated in body was she by
this calamity that a year elapsed before she could be removed
by slow stages to her ftLther's house in London.  There she
lived for seven years, colnfined to a darkened room, at times so
feeble that life seemed almnost extinct, but struggling against
debilityand suffering with almost unexampled heroism. There
she continued her studies, having a Plato bound like a novel
to deceive her physician, who feared that mental application
would react injuriously upon her enfeebled frame.  There she
wrote, while lying on a couch, unable to sit erect, the poem
of "Lady Geraldine's Courtship" in twelve hours, in order
that the volume of her poems to be published in this country
mi,ght be completed in season to catch the steamer.  From
that sick chamber went forth poems sufficient in quantity to
be the result of industrious application on the part of one in
good health.  And though these poemns bear marks of the
peculiar circumstances in which they were written, in a somewhat morbid tone, they show no trace of debility in thought
or imagination. Mrs. Browning has written no "In Memoriam" to tell in melodious notes the story of her grief. No
direct allusion to it is made, if we mistake not, in her poems.
She does not, like most of the poets of her sex, brood plaintively over her woes, and sing, over and over again, in slightly 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
altered form, the melancholy strain, "I am bereft, and life is
dark."  Her nature was too strong thus to allow grief to take
possession of it.  Sorrow deepened and elevated her nature,
instead of mastering it.  There was in her none of the egotism
of grief.   She threw her whole soul with redoubled ardor
into her high vocation, finding consolation where great souls
have always found it- in noble work.   And yet, though
there is not the least trace in her writings of an egotistical
brooding over grief, there is abundant evidence in them of the
deep suffering through which she passed. It would be diffi cult to find a nobler expression of great sorrow, bravely en dured, than is afforded by her sonnets on " Comfort," "Sub stitution," "Bereavemelt," and "Consolation."  These simple
but majestic records of her grief are far more affecting, be cause they are far less labored and artistic, and seem to como
more directly from the heart, than the mournful beauty of tho
" In Memoriam."
In 1838 Mrs. Browning published "The Seraphim and
other Poems," and in 1844 a collection of her Poems in two
volumes, includcling the "Drama of Exile."   The reception
with which these poems met in England was, though not
hiTghly flattering, certainly very far from discouraging. Their
faults were severely but not unjustly criticised, and full
recognition was given to their merits. The " Quarterly Review"
for 1840 concludes an article in which are criticised tile works
of nine female poets, who are now nearly or quite all forg,otten, except Mrs. Browning,, in these words:   "In a word,
we consiler Miss Barrett to be a woman of undoubted genius
and most unusual learning, but that she has indulged her inclination for themes of sublime mystery, not certainly without great power, yet at the expense of that clearness, truth,
and proportion which are essential to beauty.
At about this titme Leigh Hunt speaks of her in the following lalngduage
::.1.::.:
*: ~          ~ e~
227
0 
228    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"Miss Barrett, whom  we take to be the most imaginative
~~~~~~~
poetess that has appeared ill Englalnd, perhaps in Europe, and
who will grow to great eminence if the fineness of her vein
can but outgrow a certain morbidity."
In our own country Mr. E. P. Whipple wrote, that,
Probably the greatest female poet that Englandcl has ever
produced, and one of the most unreadable, is Elizabeth B.
Barrett.  In the workis of no woman have we ever observed
so much grandeur of imagination.  disguised as it is ill an
elaborately infelicitous style.   She has a large heart and a
large brain, but many of her thoughts are hooded eagles."
It seems to us that these critics dealt very justly with Mrs.
Browning.  The faults of the two largest poemns which she
had published were glaring and extremely offensive to a correct taste.  " The Seraphim " is a dialogue between two angels
who are witnessingl the crucifixion, and giving utterance to
their emotion as they gaze upon the awful spectacle.
The very theme of the poem is enough to show that it must
be a failure.  The task of depicting the feelings iwhich that
stupendous sacrifice awakened in seraphic souls, is one vlwhich
no one of our race should attempt.  AVhat do we know of
the workings of angelic natures?  If, as Mrs. Bro.wning so
often tells us, truth is an essential quality of poetry, how can
we look for poetry where there is no basis on which truth can
rest?  A poet of imperial imagination, like Mlilton or Danite,
may successfully introduce angels as actors in an epic poem,
where the interest cenlitres in what is done, and in which there
is a groundwork of human action, and the most prominent
actors are men; but is not this far different fiom attenmpltiing
to depict draamatically the working of ang,elic natlires?
As might naturally be expected, therefore, the "Seraphim" is
a failure.  It is extravagant, mystical, and, in some places,
0 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
very unpleasant, by reason of its efforts to depict what should
be forever left unattempted by human pencil.
To speak plainly, the freedom with which Mrs. Browning
in these earlier poems attempts to describe the Deity is exceedingly shocking to a reverent soul.  Of course this freedom is merely an error of taste, and is rather the attempt of
a vivid faith and ardent love to realize their object, than of a
self-confident spirit to win praises for itself by vividly setting
forth the glories of its Maker; but good taste and a true reverence alike protest against it.
The "Drama of Exile" shows greater imaginative power
and deals with a more approachable subject than tlhe "Seraphim," but is hardly less open to criticism.  It is based upon
the expulsion of Adam  and Eve from the garden of Eden.
The following is an outline of its plot:  The poem opens
with an exulting soliloquy by Lucifer, which is interrupted
by the entrance of Gabriel.   In the colloquy which ensues
between them the fallen angel exults over his success, and
Gabriel meets his taunts with pitying, scorn, and bids him depart and "leave earth to God."   The scene then changes.
Adam and Eve appear in the distance, flying across the glare
made by the flaming sword, and are followed in their flight
by a lamentation and farewell, chanted by a chorus of Eden
spirits; the spirits of the trees, the rivers, the birds and the
flowers each in turn taking up the song.  The scene now
chauiges to the outer extremity of the light cast by the flaming
sword.   There Adam and Eve stand and look forward into
the gloom.   Eve, in an agony of remorse, throws herself
Ulpol the ground, and begs her husband to spurn her, his seducer, from him forever.  Adam raises and comforts her, and
assures her of his forgiveness and continued love.  A chorus
of invisible angels, who had mlinistered to their pleasure in
EdenI, then chant the exiles a "faint and tender" farewell.
Lucifer nowv appears upon the scene, and taunts his victims
229 
2,30    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
upon their ruin, until he is interrupted and driven away by a
lament coming from his lost love, the morning star.
In the next scene Adam and Eve have advanced falrther
into a   wild, open country.   As they stand lamenting their
fate, they are confronted by twelve shadowy creatures, which
are the projections of the signs of the Zodiac, -the ranm, the
bull, the crab, the scorpion, etc. To let the poet state her
own  obscure conception:
"Not a star pricketh the flat gloom of heaven;
But girdling close our nether wilderness,
The zodiac fig,ures of the earth loom slow,
Drawn out as suitethli with the place and time
In twelve colossal shapes instead of stars."
Their attention is drawn from these by two spirits, of
whom one calls itself "the spirit of the harmless earth," and
the other "the spirit of the harmless beasts," who mourn the
ruin that man has broulght upon them, and, joined and assisted by Lucifer, revile the vwretchled pair for the curse they
bave brought uponi God's fair creation.    llhen they hl.ve
driven Adam and Eve to a frenzy of agony, Christ appears,
rebukes the earth-spirits and commands them to become mani's
comforters and ministers, foretells the redemption which He
will accomplish for the race, and bids our first parents,
" In which hope move on,
First sinners and first mourners; love and live,
Doing both nobly because lowlily."
The  earthl-spirits  promise  obedience and disappear.   A
chorus of angels then chants the promise of immortal life to
mortals, and thus the drama ends.
WVe have given the plot of the " Drama of Exile" at some
length, that the reader may judge for himself of the justice 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
of our criticism when we say that, as a whole, the poem is
strained, extravagant, and unequal to its theme.
There are some subjects which are set apart for the great
creative intellects of the race, and with which it is useless for
any others of lesser grasp, however brilliant their powers may
be within their own range, to attempt to igrapple.  Anything
short of complete success in their treatment is failure. Their
successful handling requires a sustained and steady elevation
of imagination, as well as an occasional lofty flight; it requires
also the power of construction and arr.angemenlt, as well as
of orig,inating single great conceptions.  Neither of these was
given to Mrs. Browning.  IIecr imag,ination could soar very
high, but it could not, like Mlilton's, float tranquilly, supported by its strong pinion, in the clear upper air.  Icr. genius
seemed rather to emit brilliant flashes than to shed a steady
radiance.  The "Drama of Exile" contains many noble passages.  Some of its conceptions give evidence of great originality and power.  But passages in a poem written upon such
a subject, which excite a reader's laugh,ter by their extravagance, are fatal to its claims to be considered a great work of
the imagination.  IHomer sometimes nods, but he never rants.
It has been the unanimous voice of criticism, and cannot fail
to be the opinion of every candid and intelligent reader, that
in the "Drama of Exile" Mrs. Browning very often and very
laufghably rants.
3But those seven years of solitude and illness bore other and
better fruit than the "Drama of Exile."   Many  of those
beautiful short poems, on which Mrs. Browning's claims to our
gratitude chiefly rest, are the fruit of that stern and protract ed contest with extreme physical weakness and mental suffer ing.  Thlen was written  Lady Isobel's Child; "a poenm which
combines more of Mrs. IBrowning's peculiar powers, — her
tenderness, her clear vision into the spiritual world, her abil ity to describe with wonderful vividness the appearances of
231 
2 EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
nature, and her skill in using the pictures which she paints to
hei,hten emotional effect, -  with fewer faults than almost
any of her other poems.   Then, also, was written "Bertha
in the Lane,"- the simplest and sweetest of her poelms; and
the "Rime of  the Duchess Ma\y," - a poem whose vigor of
movement and graphic picturing no woman has equalled and
few men have surpassed.
Then was written the "Cry of the Children," which will
rank with those few noble poems, in which genius utters, in
its own thrilling tones, the cry of a humble and neglected class
for relief,
Then was written "The Dead Pan," - a poem full of noble
truth as well as beauty; a poem which gladly bids farewell
to the old classic fil)les in which beauty was once enshrined,
because a higher beauty is found in the truth and spiritual
illumination of to-day.
What nobler creed for a poet than this:
"What is true and just and honest,
What is lovely, what is pure, -
All of praise that hlath admonished
All of virtue, sliall endure;
These are themes for poets' uses,
f~tirrinng noller than the muses,
Ere Pan was dead."
We cannot find a more suitable place than this in which to
speak of a prose work of iMrs. Browning's, pub)lisled after
her death, but originally printed in the "London Atlienmeum"
in 1842, entitled "Essays on the Greek  Christiian  Poets
and the English Poets."  It is written in a terse and vigorous style, disfigured here and there by a harsh or unpleasant
fig,ure or strained metaphor, but possessing sufficient merit to
show that their author might have attained a higll rark as a
prose writer.  Their most noticeable mnerit is a certain felicity
in putting subtle spiritual thou,ght into langluage.   They
232 
EfLIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
are of especial interest to the student of MIrs. Browning,'s
poetry, as giving, in connection with her judgmenct upon mnost
En,glish poets, her theory of the true nature of the poetic art.
This theory, which is closely allied to the theory of the realists in painting, may be stated as follows:  There is poetry
wherever God is and the works of God are.  Thlere is as true
poetry in man and whatever pertains to man, of whatsoever
grade of society or degree of cultivation, as in the grandest
objects of nature.   The poet must delineate what he sees
and express what he feels.
As MIrs. Browning herself afterward finely says in "Aurora
Lei    gh":
" Never flilch,
But still, unscrupulously epic, catch
Upon the burning lava of a song,
The full-veined, heaving, double-breasted a,,e,
That when the next shall come the men of that
May touch the impress with reverent hand and say,
Behold,- behold the paps we all have sucked.
This is living art,
Which thus presents and thus records true life."
And again, with reference to that part of the poet's office
which  has to do with the expression of his inner nature, she
says:
"The artist's part is both to be and do,
Transfixing with a special, central power
The flat experience of the common man,
And turning outward with a sudden wrench,
Half agony, half ecstasy, the thing
lie feels the inmost."
Describe what you see and tell what you feel, is, then, the
sum of Mrs. Browning's poetic creed.   We can but think
that this theory of the poetic art leaves out of view one of its
233 
23,    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
most important features, which is the elaborating thoughts
and conceptions into symmetrical form; using them as the
plastic material out of which to construct a polished, perfect
work of art.  The old Greek conception is right: the poet is
the maker, not the reflector.   We have a right to demand
more of the poet than a fiaithful record of the impressions
made upon any or all of his sensibilities.  We have a right to
demand melody, clearness, symmetry of design, proper joining of parts,- all the results of the severest taste guided by
unremitting diligence.  A  poem should not be an incoherent
and rugged rhapsody; it should join to all the freshness of
nature the smoothness of the highest art.
In 1846 Ailrs. Browning left her sick-room (she was literally assisted firom her couch) to become the wife of Robert
Browning.  WAVe have not the space to enter into any discussion of Mr. Browning,'s rank as a poet.  It is sufficient for
our purpose to say that, thougth his poems find a munch narrower circle of readers than those of his wife, the most cultivated and appreciative critics pronounce them to be of a
higher order of merit than hers, and in many of the rarer and
finer qualities of poetry superior to the works of any living
poet.  It is enough for those who have learned to love Mrs.
Browning through her writings to know that those who have
known and loved both husband and wife pronounce the hus.
band not unworthy in nobility of soul as well as in depth of
intellect of such a wife.  And not to be unworthy of such a
woman's love is indeed to be great I
In a series of sonnets, slightly disguised by their title,
Sonnets from the Portuguese," written to her husbamid before
their marriage, she has poured out the wealth of her love, and
at the same time displayed the loftiness and delicacy of her
nature.  Whoever wishes to know Mrs. Browning should
study carefully these beautiful and artless poems, which tell
the most sacred feelings of a woman's heart with such sim 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
plicity and truthfulness and freedom from false shame that
the most fastidious taste cannot be offended by their recital.
Nor are they interesting alone from the insight which they
give  us into the heart of their author.  They are of unique
interest, because they give us the  revelation of  a great
woman's love. They set before us an affection which combines, with the passionate fervor of man's devotion, a clinging,
self-renoutncing tenderness which is peculiar to woman. They
reveal to us a love unselfish in its essence, distrusting only
its        own worthiness and sufficiency to satisfy its object, and
longitng to be swallowed up in his larger nature.  How false
in          the presence of such desire for self-renunciation on the
part  of so highly-gifted a nature appears the common cant
that culture and genius and strong thought injure the finer
qualities of a woman's soul!  What better refutation to this
theory than such lines as these:
"A heavy heart, beloved, have I worn,
From year to year, until I saw thy face,
And sorrow after sorrow took the place
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn
As the stringed pearls,- each lifted in its turn
By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God's own gram
Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart.  Then thou didst bid me bring
And let it drop adown thy calmly great
Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing
Which its own nature doth precipitate,
While thine doth close above it, mediating
Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate."
" From their wedding day," writes a friend, " Mrs. Browniig seemed to be endowed with new life. HIer health visibly
improved, and she was enabled to make excursions in England prior to her departure for the land of her adoption,Italy,- where she found a second and a dearer home."
235 
236    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
She lived some time at Pisa, and thence removed to Florence, where the remainder of her life was passed.
"For nearly fifteen years," says the writer from whom we
have quoted above, "Florence and the Brownings were one
in the thotughts of many EInglish and AIlericans."
AMrs. Browning,'s poems, for many years before her death,
were more widely and heartily admired by American than
by Einglish readers. Her love of liberty and generous sympathy with all efforts to elevate the race made America dear
and Americans welcome to her.  Her conversational powers
were of the highest order. It was but natural, therefore, that
her house should attract many American travellers to discuss
with this little broad-browed woman those "great questions
of the day," which  we are told "were foremost in her
thoughts and, therefore, oftenest on her lips."
M1rs. Browning's affections soon took root in Italy.  The
depth and fervor of the love which she bore her adopted
country was such as man or woman have rarely borne for
native land. It had the intensity of a personal attachment
with a moral elevation such as love for a single person
never has.  It glows like fire through all her later poems.
Would that we had had a poet who had sung the heroism
and suffering of the late war in strains of such power and
pathos as those  in which "she sang the song of Italy."
Her love for her adopted country was not a mere romantic
attachment to its beauty and treasures of art and historic
associations.  It was a practical love for its men and women.She longed to see them elevated, and therefore she longed to
see them free.
Her affection for Italy found its first expression in "Casa
Guidi Windows," which was published in 1851.   "This
poem," says the preface, "contains the impressions of the
writer upon events in Tuscany of which she was a witness.
.. ~...    It is a simple story of personal impressions
-t
. 0 
ELIZABETH BARRETT  BROWNING.  237
whose only value is in the intensity with whichl they were re.
ceived, as proving her warm affection for a bceautifil and Unfortunate country, and the sincerity with which they were
related, as indicating her own good faith and freedom firom
partisanship."
The poem consists of two parts, the former of which
( w r i t t e n                         in 1848)  describes the popular demonstrati ons in
Florence occasioned by the promise of Duke Leopold( II.
to                                  grant a  constitution to Padua. It goes  on f rom  th is to
c        a        l        l         upon Italy to free her conscience from priestl y  dominiation,  and  her                            person   from   Austrian rule. It  calls for   a  deliverer                                to break the fetters of priestcra,ft  and tyr anny. It
a        s        k        s          the sympathy of. all European nations, each  of  whic h is
so                                  deeply indebted to Italy for literature and  art:
9
"To this great cause of southern men, who strive
In God's name for man's rights, and shall not fail."
The second part of the poem, written three years afterward, when Leopold had proved false, and the constitutional
party had been crushed, describes the return of the DuLke to
Florence         under the protection of Austrian  )a)yonets, and
gives utterance to the execrations of the cldespaiiing patriots
of          Italy a gainst  "false Leopold," a treacherous pope, and a
ly ing  priesthood. The poet then goes on in a nmagnificent
strain  to accuse the nations who  were then flo king to the
Worl d's F     air"  in London of gross materialism and insensibility t      o       the sufferings of their own oppressed and miserable,
a nd        the wr ongs of outraged Italy.  She concludes thus:
" Let us go.
We will trust God. The blank interstices
Men take for ruins he will build into
0 
238    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
With pillared marble rare, or knit across
With generous arches, till the fane's complete."
In 1848 Mrs. Browning's son and only child was born.  As
before, she had thrown the sorrow of her early life, and the
love which had followed and superseded it into her poetry, so
this new and crownling affection found its fit and fuill expression ill her verse. Before, it was the wife who wrote; now,
it is the wife and mother. Her love for her child deepened
and intensified her love for humanity.   It streingthened her
faith ill God. It made her love him with that love which
only mothers know. And as her poetry was the expression
of what was noblest and deepest in her nature, it could hut
follow that it should be full of the evidences of this its best
affection.
Ill the "Casa Guidi Windows," speaking of perjured Duke
Leopold, she says:
"I saw the man among his little sons;
Hils lips were warm with kisses while he swore;
And I, because I am a woman, I,
Who felt my own child's conliug life before
The prescience of my soul, and held faith high, -
I could not bear to think, whoever bore,
That lips, so warmed, could shape so cold a lie."
The world has seen many greater poets, but it has  never
seen   one who thus clothed noble womanhood in noble verse.
And  in the same strain is the apostrophe to her little son in
the last part of the poem, of which we would gladly quote
the       whole, but are obliged to content ourselves with these few
lines:
"Stand out my blue-eyed prophet, thou, to whom
The earliest world-daylight that ever flowed
Through Casa Guidi windows chanced to come I
And be God's witness that the elemental
~ 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
New springs of life are gushing everywhere,
To cleanse the water-courses and prevent all
Concrete obstructions which infest the air!"
Had Mrs. Browning died childless, she never could have
written  that noble poem entitled "Mother and  Poet,"  in
which  she  has expressed so powerfully the anguish of that
Italian  poetess, whose two solns fell fighting, for Italian liberty.
Nor           could she have written "Only a Curl," that touching, exquisite poemn written to console two bereaved friends in
America.  Those who are fond of making comparisons will
find a       good opportunity for the exercise of their ingenuity iii
comparing  this little poem with that of Tennyson entitled
"To J. S.," likewise written to comfort all afflicted firiend.
That of  the laureate is a far more beautiful work of art;
after   reading its melodious lines Mrs.  Browning's verses
sound  ru gged and harsh.   Its writer's sympathy and love
are      expressed with exquisite delicacy and pathos.   Its metaphors are full of beauty. Under ordinary circumstances one
would         read it with far more pleasure than "Only a Curl."
But the latter poem, if it gratifies less the sense of beauty, is
more          richly fraught with consolation to a sorrowing, soutl. Its
sympathy seems the more heartfelt for being less graceful. It
does      more than express sympathy.   It carries the bereaved
to the source of all comfort. It inspires him with the writer's
lofty faith. It lets a ray of heavenly light into his soul.
T he   contrast between the two poehns can be best exhibited bv
quotin    g a   verse of each.   One of the concluding verses of
Tennlyson's poem is'this
" Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace,
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul;
While the stars burn the winds increase,
And the great ages onward roll."
That of Mrs. Browning:
239 
210   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"So look up, friends! you who indeed
Have possessed in your house a sweet piece
Of the Heaven which men strive for, must need
Be more earnest than others are, speed
Where they loiter, persist where they cease."
It is easy to decide which of the two stanzas is more beautiful; and it is not difficult to determine which is in its essential contents the -nobler.
In 1856 "Aurora Leigh" was published.   This poem,
which Mrs. B'owning calls "the most mature of my works,
and that into which my highest convictions upon life and art
have entered," wvas finished in England, under the roof of the
writer's cousin and friend, John Kenyon,- to whom it is
dedicated.   Mr. Kenyon was a genial and cultivated gentleman, the author of several graceftil poemns.  He died in 1858,
leaving his cousin a considerable addition to her fortune.
Aurora Leigh" is a social epic,- a sort of novel in blank
verse.  The following is a brief outline of its plot: Aurora
Leigh, the heroine, who is represented as telling the story of
her life, is a lady of Italian birth, the daughter of an En,lish
gentleman, who, while making a brief visit to Florence, fell
in love with and married a beautiful Italian woman.
Aurora lived in Italy until thirteen years old, when, her
parents having both died, she was taken to England, to live
with her fathler's sister.  This aunt, a prim, rigid, and stony
person, endeavors, by subjecting Aurora to rigid discipline
and the orthodox young lady's education, to eradicate the
Italian nature which she had inherited from her mother, and
mnould her into a correct, accomplished, and commonplace
Englishwoman.  Aurora, though outwardly submissive, is secretly rebellious, and determines that her aunt shall neither
crush out her life, nor make of her the flat, tame woman she
designs her niece to become. 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
I-Having found in a garret a box of her father's bookls, she
studies them secretly with greaf zeal.   Fired by reading the
poets, she determines to become one of their number.  Lead ing thus a double life, outwardly sublmissive and demure,
but secretly enjoying intellectual and spiritual freedom, she
reaches the age of twenty.
Then  her cousin, RPomney Leigh, a young man of talent
and worth, whose soul is bent upon schemes for imnproving
the physical condition of the poor, asks her to become his
wife.  Suspecting that a desire for an assistant in his Iphilan
thropic labors, rather than love, has caused him to make this
offer, she declines his hand.  At this point, her aunt, who is
determined that she shall marry Romney,  suddenly dies.
iomuney renews the offer of his hand, and, this being refused,
generously andl delicately offers a large part of his fortune to
his cousin, whom her father's foreign marriage has prevented
from inheriting his estates.  She refuses this also, and goes
to London to write poems and live by their sale.  In course
of time she obtains celebrity.  She has no direct communication with Romney, but learns, by occasional infornmationl derived from their common firiends, that he is devoting himself
with great zeal to lessening the sum of human misery.   At
length she is told that her cousin is about to marry a young
girl of the lowest origin, whom he has met with while carrying on his philanthropic labors.
She visits this young, lady, and finds her to be, in spite of
her low origin, winning, and refined.  At her rooms she meets
with Romney.   ITec explains to her his design in marrying
this Marian Erle, which is to protest against the insuperable
barrier which custom has raised between the different classes
of society.   To increase the effect of this strange union,
Ptomney gives public notice that the marriag,e will tktle place
in a London church.  At the appointed hour the clhutrch is
crowded with a mixed assemblage, composed of curious people
16
241 
242    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
of fashion, and a larg,e and foul delegation from the class to
which the bride belongs.   Tie hour arrives, but no bridal
party appears.  After some delay, Romney enters alone, and
announces that his illtended bride has fled.  The mob swear
that she has been abducted by Romney's fiiends, to prevent
the marriage, and a riot ensues, which is quelled by the police.
Some time after MIarianl's flight, a report is circulated and
generally believed by his friends that Romney has formed an
engagement of marriage with Lady Waldemar, - a lady of
wealth, rank, and beauty, but whose character is utterly devoid of moral principle.
In the full belief of this report, Aurora  Leigh, having
published a poem which contains the full expression of her
genius, starts for Italy.  Stopping at Paris on the way, she
meets npoi the street Marian Erie.  Accompanying her home
she hears her story.  Lady Waldemar (who had long, cherished a secret love for Romney Leigh) had persuaded MIarian
that her affianced husband entertained no real affection for
her, but was, in tarrying her, sacrificing his own happiness
on the altar of his social theories; and that it was her duty
to prevent him from performing this rash act by flight.   Accordingly she fled the country, under the care of a servant
of Lady Waldemar,  who conveyed her to a vile den  in
some French seaport, where she was dru,gged and outraged.
Escaping them, she made her way to Paris, where a child
is born to her.
Aurora, after writing this story in a letter to a common friend
of Romney and herself in England, taking Marian  and her
child with her, continues her journey to Italy.  The party
make their home in Florence.  After some months had passed,
Romney  -unexpectedly appears  at their house.   lie tells
Aurora what had happened in her absence.  He had turned
his country-seat into a phalanstery.  It had been set on fire
and burned to the ground.  In rescuing one of his patients, 
ELIZABETl BARRETT BROWNING.
he had been stricken down by a falling beam.  The injury
had made him hopelessly blind.  01n hearing the stoi'y of
ilarian's innocence and betrayal, he has hastened to Italy,
come to fulfil his former contract of mnarriage with Marian.
But Mlarian's love has been killed by the sorrow and shabme
through which she has passed, and she refuses to marry him.
And so, as Romney has loved Aurora with unabated affection
since his former offer of marriage, and as Aurora discovers
that she has all the time unconsciously loved her cousin, they
are married.
Of course a very imperfect conception of the poem can be
obtained from this meagre outline of the plot.  This is the
mere skeleton, which is to be covered with flesh and blood,
and into which the breath of life is to be breathed.  But a
symmetrical body cannot be built upon a deformed skeleton.
A  great poem cannot be constructed upon an absurd and
improbable plot.  Its characters must act as human beilgs
in the same circumstances might naturally be expected to do.
They must talk like men and women, making allowance for
the limitations under which the artist works.  They must not
be used as puppets, to express the thoughts of the writer,
but whatever they say must be the natural expression of their
own personality.   And  especially should this be the case
when the scene of the poem is laid, not in the mythlica'l past,
but in the broad, clear light of to-day.  An epic of the social
life of our own  time shotild faithfully reflect that life, by
imakicng probable characters talk and act in a natural minller.
Almost its first requisite is that the story should be naturally
put together, and pleasingly told; that the characters should
produce an impression of rcality; that the interest and power
of the narrative should increase as the poern atldvances; and
that the whole story should tend toward one coiisummation,
and leave upon the mind, wheni  its perusal has l)een finished,
the effect of a connected and symmetrical whole.
243 
244   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Judged by this standard, Aurora Leigh cannot be pro.
nounceed a                 great  poem. The plot is awkward and improbable.
T    he        author trifles with her readers by making Aurora declare
i      n      the early part of the poem:
"I attest
The conscious skies and all their daily suns,
I think I loved him not; nor then; nor since;
Nor ever."
And at the close of the poem:
"Now I know
I loved you always, Romney."
The events of the story are improbable and clumsily connected.  They do not seem to flow out of each other, as do
the occurrences of real life.  They have not the semblance
of probability.   The adventures of'Marian Erle, after her
flight from England, are as absurd as they are dlisgusting.
Romney Leigh, with his sublime disregard of self, his willing,ness to contract engagements of marriage to further his
noble schemes, his ugly Juggernaut of philanthropy, under
which he would crush the nobler affections of his own and
other people's lives, -is a very absurd character, if he can be
called a character and not a walkiing abstraction.
It is not too much to say that the story and characters of
Aurora Leigh seem like a very clumsy and ill-contrived piece
of mechanism intended to serve as a vehicle to convey the
writer's impressions of the social life of to-day.  But the poem
only fails of the accomplishment of what is or should be its
main design, -it is full of sins against taste.   Disagreeable
conceits abound in it. Much of it is but distorted and quaintly
expressed prose.
It tells of disgusting crimes with offensive frankness.
There is a class of crime upon which even philanthropy can 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
not gaze too closely.   WVe have certainly a right to ask that
crime of this sort, if introduced into a work of the iIt'aginatioii, shall be so veiled as neither to shock our taste nor
wouniid our sensibilities.
But, notwithstanding all the faults which disfigure "Aurora
Lei,gh," it is full of genius and power.  It is not a great poem,
but many of its passages are great.  It containls much vigorous thlou,ght; many profound spiritual truths delicately and
forcibly expressed; much noble description of natural scenery.  It is a book to be read by detached passages rather
than as a single work of art; alld to one reading, it thuls it
is full of interest and profit.  Though not worthy of being
the great work of MIrs. Browning's life, it must hold a high
rank amongo the poems which the present century has produced.
Iu 1859 Mrs. Browning, published a little book entitled
"Poems before Colngress."  These poems, which contained
eulog,ies upon Louis Napoleon for the assistance which he
had rendered to Italy inll her struggl,e for independence, and
blamed England for lukewarmness toward the new nation
strugglilng into freedom,  were severely  criticised by the
English press.  She was called disloyal to her native land,
and was said to have prostituted her genius to eulogizing a
tyrant and usurper.   How far her opinlions as to Na,poleoii's
character and motives in assisting Italy to freedom were correct is a question into which we will not enter here.  IIad
she been living in the fall of 1867, she would probably have
found occasion to modify her opinion.   But of the nobility
of the motives which actuated her to write as she did, the
following extract from a letter which she wrote to a fricnd
affords ample evidence:
"\y book," she wrote, " has had a very angry reception in
my native country, as you prol)'Lbaly observe;  but I shall be
245 
246    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
forg,iven one day; and meanwhile, forgiven or unforg,iven, it
is satisfactory to one's own soul to have spokenl the truth as
one apprehends the truth."
It may readily be supposed that ]Irs. Browniing's deep
love of liberty would have led her to take a deep ilnterest in
America.  That this was illdeed the case, her own writilgsand the testimony of her friends give us labundant evidence.
"Her interest in the American anti-slavery struggl e," says
Mr. Tilton,, " was deep and earnest.   She was a watcher of
its progress, and afar off mingled her soul with its strugglles.
She corresponded w-ith its leaders, and entered into the fellowvship of their thoulghts."
She wrote for a little book, which the Abolitionists published in 1848, called the " Liberty Bell," a poem entitled " A
Curse for a Nationl." Of this we will quote a single verse as
a specimen:
"Because yourselves are standing straight
In the state
Of Freedom's goremost acolyte,
Yet keep calm footing all the time
On writhing bond-slaves -for thllis crime
This is the curse- write."
Mlany years after she wrote to an American friend concerningi this poem: —
"Never say that I have cursed your country.  I only declared the consequences of the evil in her, and whichl has since
developed itself in thunder and flame. I feel with more pain
than many Americans do the sorrow of this transition time;
but I do know that it is transition; that it is crisis, and that
you will come out of the fire purified, stainless, havilng had
the angel of a great cause walking with you in the furnace."
But she did not live to see her prophecy verified.  The
disease against which she had so lolng stru,ggled, broke out
I 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
with newv violence in the spriing of 1861.  So rapid was its
progress that her friends did not realize her danger until
death was near.  She wasted away in rapid consumption, and
died on the morning of the 29th of June.   Her last words,
or rather her first wNords when the heavenly glory burst upon
her vision, were, "It is beautiful."
Twenty-three days after Cavour's death pluInged Italy in
mourning, and saddened the friends of liberty throu,lgh the
world.  The impassioned poet and the heroic statesman of
the new nation were both taken from it while it was on the
very threshold of its life. Had they both lived, the one would,
by his resistless energy and far-sighted wisdom, have givenl the
land so dearly loved by both a far nobler history for the other
to sing.  The death of both was hastened, their friends tell
us, by their grief at the peace of Villafranca.   Such a poet
and such a statesman were worthy of a 1nobler people.
Mrs. Browning was buried in the Einglish burying-ground
at Florence.  The municipio have placed over the doorway
of Casa Guidi a white marble tablet, on which is inscribed
the following beautiful tribute to her memory:
Here wrote and died E. B. Browning, who in the heart
of a womnan iunited the science of a sage and the spirit of a
poet, and made with her verse a golden ring binding Italy
and England.
"Grateful Florence placed this memorial, 1861."
"To those who loved Mrs. Browning," says a friend in a
letter published in the" Atlantic Monithly "for Septeml)er, 1861,
(and to know her was to love her), she was singularly attractive.   Hers was not the beauty of feature; it was the
loftier beauty of expression. - Her slight figure seemed hardly
to contain the great heart that beat so powerfully within, and
the soul that expanded more and more as one year gave place
247 
E8EMINENT WOMEN OF TIE AGE.
to another.  It was difficult to believe that suck a fairy hl.tln
could pen thoughts of such a ponderous wveighlt, or tlltt steh
a'still, small voice' could utter them withl equal force.   But
it was Mrs. Brownling's face upon which one loved to gaze,that f.ice and head which almost lost thc'mselves in the thick
curls of her dark-brown hair.   That jealous hair could lnob
hide the l)road, fair forehead,' royal with the truth,' as smooth
as any girl's, and
"' Too large for wreath of modern wont.'
"Her large brown eyes were beautiful, and were, in truth,
the windows of her soul.  They combined the confliliglness
of a child with the poet-passion of heart and of intellect, and
in gazing into them it was easy to see wvhy Mrs. Browning
wrote.  God's inspiration was her motive-power, and in her
eyes was the reflection of this higher light."
The same friend continues: -
Ai1rs. Browning's conversation was most interesting...
All that she said was alwtays worth hearing; a greater complliment could not be paid her. She was a most conscientious listener, giving you her mind and heart, as well as her magnetic
eyes.  Though the latter spoke an eager language of her own,
she conversed slowly, with a conciseness and point, which,
added to a matchless earnestness that was the predominant trait
of her conversation as it was of her character, mnade her a most
delightful companion.  Persons were never her theme, unless
public characters were under discussion, or friends who were to
be praised, which kind office she frequently took upon herself.
One never dreamed of firivolities in Mrs. Browning's presence, and gossip felt itself out of place.   Yourself, not herself, was always a pleasant subject to her, calling out her best
sympathies in joy, and yet more in sorrow.  Books and hiimanity, great deeds, and, above all, politics, which include
248 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
all the grand questions of the day,  were  foremost in her
thoughts, and therefore oftellest on her lips   I speak not of
religion, for wvith her everything was religioli."
We have expressed our opinion so fully reg,arlding the
merits and defects of Mrs. Browning,'s poetry, ill the progress
of this sketch, that we need do no more at its close tllha
briefly sum up what has been said.  Rarelyliaveso rich a geniuis, such aln affiltlent and powerful imaginatioli, such an acute
and originial mind, such a passionate devotion to the poetic
art, been so withheld firom  producing their worthly fruit, by
want of suitable elaboration and chaste and simple expression.
Hlad MIrs. Browning's constructive f.teulty been equlal to the
wealth of her originating powers, and had she studied luminous expression, she mighlt have given to the world one of
those poems which are its perennial delight and inspiration.
As it is, though she has written much that is full of beauty
and power, her longest poems  are least successful, and her
fame must rest chiefly onl her humbler efforts.  But in many
respects she is the noblest poet of our time.   In her poems
as in no other does an intense love for God and man throb
and palpitate.   They glow as do no others with the  enthultisiasm of humanity."  Wlhether thyv sing of Italian patriots,
or the ragged children of London, or the fugitive slaves of
America, they have anl intense moral earnestness, springingi
from an intense love of the race.  And as we lamenct that the
author's genius is inadequately expressed in her works, we
thank God for the woman's soul whose greatness no poems
can express
249. 
250   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
BY JAMES PARTON.
THERE are those who think it unjust that we should bestow
upon the children of song honors such as are seldom given
to the most illustrious servants of their kind.
V,hat a scene does the interior of an opera-house present
when a great singer comes upon the stage, or leaves it after a
brilliant display of her talent! In Italy the whole audience
spring to their feet, and give cheer upon cheer, continuing
their vociferation for several minutes; and it has occasionally
happened that a great crowd has rushed round to the stage
door and drawn home the vocalist in her own carriage.   In
these colder climes we bestow less applause, but more money.
The favorite of the public who enchants us upon the operatic
stage receives a larger income in the northern nations of
Europe and America than England bestowed upon Wellington for maintaining her honor in the field, and larger than any
nation has ever bestowed upon its savior.
There may be some injustice in this.  It is not, however,
a part of the general scheme that the greatest sum of money
shall be the reward of the greatest merit; and we are generally inclined to pay a far higher price for pleasure than for
more substantial benefits.  Life needs cheering.  Among the
thousands of our countrymen who gave three dollars, or five,
or ten, to hear Jenny Lind sing four songs, who does not now
feel that he received the worth of his money? and who would 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
not gladly pay the sum again to enjoy that rapture  olice
more?  These sonlg birds, too, are among the rarest of natutre's rarities, and rarities are ever costly. Before a great
singer can be produced, there must exist a combination
of gifts and circumstances.  A  fine voice is only one of the
requisites.   The possessor of that voice must have received
from nature an extraordinary physical staminia and a great
power of sustained effort, as well as a considerable degree of
taste and intelligence.  The trainiing of a great vocalist is one
of the severest trials of human endurance, -so severe that
no'creature would submit to it unless compelled to do so by
necessity or an overmastering ambition.
I have heard young, ladies try their powers upon the
operatic stage, who had had what is called in New York a
thorough musical education, and who had received from nature a sufficient voice.   Before they had beenl three minutes
upon the stage their incapacity would become so apparent as
to be painful to the listener.  They had every requisite for
success except a five years' drill from some cral)bbed and unrelentitng old Italian master.  When, therefore, we burst into
wild applause after the execution of a fine aria, and when we
pay for its execution a thousand dollars, it is not the mere
accidental possession of a voice which we so bountifully coinpensate; it is culture, toil, years of self-denial, as well. The
sing,ers may be reaping, the late reward of the greater part of
a lifbtime of most arduous exertion.
To no singer who has ever delighted the public are these
remarks more applicable than to the subject of this memoir.
The gift that nature bestowed upon her was beautiful, but
imperfect, and a culture which we may well style heroic was
necessary to perfect it.
Jenny Lind is a native of Sweden.  She  was born at
Stockholm, October 6, 1821.   Her parents were respectable, laborious, and poor - her father a teacher of lan'
251
S' 
252    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
guages, her mother a school-mistress.  Jenny was the first
child of their marriage, and there was afterwards born to
them a son named John.  There is a great difference in
children as to the age when they can first siong a tlune; some
children being unable to sing, a bar of one until they are six
or seven years of age.  Jenny Lind, it need scarcely be said,
was not one of these.   She could sing the airs of her native
land with correctness, and even with some expression, when
she was but twenty months old.   By the time she was three
years of age singing was her delight; she was always sing illg; and she had the faculty of catching every  song she
heard, and repeating it with remarkable exactness.  She was
a lonely and timorous child.  The absence of her father, who
was abroad all day pursuing his vocation, and the constant
occupation of her mother in her school, left her very muche
alone; and durling her solitary hours, her voice and her music
were the unfitiling solace of her existence.  The first nine
years of her life were marked by no particular event.  The
Swedes are a musical people, and many children in Stock holm, besides Jenny Lind, were'fond of singing.
VWhen she was about nine years of age the silvery tones
of her voice chanced to catch thle ear of an actress, named
Lundberg, who at once discerned its capabilities.  Madame
Luntdberg went to the parents and told -them how delilghted
she had been with the silnging, of their child, and advised
them'to have her educated for the opera.   It so happened
that the mother of the child, being a rather strict Lutheran,
had a prejudice agrainst the drama, and regarded going upon
the stage as something dishonorable, if not disreputable. The
talents of the child, however, were so remarkable that her
scruples were in part overcome, and she consented to leave
the matter to the decision of Jenny herself.   The child was
more than willing, and very soon Madame Lundberg had the
-pleasure of conlducting her to one of the most noted music 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
masters of Stockholm.  M. Croelius-for such was the name
of this teacher-was an old man; and nothling delights a good
old mnusic-teacher more than to have a docile and gifted ptipil.
Ile soon became an enthusiast respecting his new acquisition,
and at leclgthl he resolved to present her to Count Puiceke, managcr of the Kingi's Theatre.
It is a custom in Europe for the conductors of royal operahouses to educate and train promising pupils, iand there is
sometimes a school attached to the theatre for the purpose.
IV,hen the opera-house in New York was buiit, something of
the same kind was contemplated, andl consequently the edifice
was named "Acadlemy of iMusic," - a title which it retains
without lhaving (lone anythingi to merit it.
Wheni the enthusiastic CroeliLus presented Jenniy Lidcl to the
managaer of the royal opera, that potentate satw before him a
pale, shlrinking, slender, under-sized child, between nine and
ten years of age, attired with Sunday stiffness in a dress of
black bomnbazine.   The count, we are told, gazedl upon her
with astonishment and contempt.
You ask a foolish thing," said he.  "lWhat shall we do
with that ugly creature?   See what feet she has! and then
her fhtc!  She will never be presentable.  No, we cannot
take her.  Certainly not! "
The old mutsic-teacher was too confident of the value of the
talent which the childl possessed to be abashed by this ungracious reception.
" AWell," said he, with some warmth, " if you will not take
her, I, poor as I am, will take her myself, and have her educated for the stage."
The old man's enthusiasm piqued the curiosity of the noble
manager, and he consented at length to hear her sing.  Un developed as her voice then was, it already had some of that
rapture-giving power which it afterwards possessed in such
an eminent degree.  The count chainged his mind, and Jenny
253 
4   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
was at once admitted to the training-school attached to the
royal opera.*  There she had the benefit of highly compe tent instructors, as well as the inspiring companionship of
children engaged in the same pursuits.
The pupils of the training-school were required, now and then
during the season, to perform in little plays written and arirangeed
expressly for them. It was in one of these, in the eleventh
year of her age, that Jenny Lind made her first appearance
in public.   The part assiygned her was that of a begar-girl,
- a character which her pallid countenance and slight person
fitted her to represent.   She acted with so much simplicity
and truth, and sang, her songs with such intelligent expres sion, as to secure the favor of the audience in a high degree.
She made what we now call a hit.  Other children's plays
were written for her, in which for two winters she delighted
the people of Stockholm, who regarded her as a procdigy. At
the height of her transient celebrity, her brilliant prospects
clouded over.   She observed with alarm that her upper
notes grew weaker,  and that her other tones were losing
their pleasure-giving quality.   By the time she was  thirteen  years  of age her upper notes  had almost ceased
to exist, and no efforts of her teachers could restore them.
It was as though the heiress of a great estate were suddenly
informed that her guardian had squandered it, and that she
must prepare to earn her livelihood by ordinary labor.   The
scheme of educatidng her for the opera was given up, tlhough
slhe continued for four years longoer.to be an assiduous member of the school, studying instrumental music, and the
theory of composition. One of the severest of her trials was
being forbidden to use her voice, except for a very short
time every day in very simple music.
Her seventeenth birthday came round.  The master of the
* This anecdote and some other particulars are derived from "Queens of Song," by
Ellen Creathorne Clayton: London and New York, 1865. 
JENNY LIND GOLDQSCHMIDT.
traininng-school was about to give at the theatre a grand con  cert, in order to display the talents and improvement of his
pupils.  The chief part of this coinceert was to consist of the
celebrated fourth act of "Robert le Diable," in which Alice
has but one solo assiygned to her, and that is not a favorite
with  singers. When  all the parts had been distributed
except that of the undesirable Alice, the director thought of
poor Jenny Lind, and offered it to her.   She accepted it and
began to study the music.   She had become  a woman since
she had last looked the terrible Lpublic in the face, and she be  came so anxious as the time ap,proached for her reappearance,
that she began to fear the total suspension of her powers.  A
strange thing happened to her that night.  When the moment
came for her to singl the solo attached to her part, she rose
superior to the fright under which slhe had been suffering, and
began the air with a degree of assurance which surprised her  self.  Wonderful to relate, her upper notes  sudldenly  re  turned to her in all their former brilliancy, and every note in
her voice seemed at the same moment to recover its long  lost sweetness and power.   No one had anticipated anything
from the Alice of that evelning, and thunders of applause
4    greeted the unexpected triumph.  Except herself no one was
so much surprised as the director of the school, whose pupil
she had been for six years.  Besides warmnly congratulating her
that evening, he told her on the following mornilng that she was
cast for the important part of Agatha in " Der Frieschiiltz."
Great was the joy of the modest girl, conscious of her powers,
upon learning that Agatha, the very character towards which
she had long felt herself secretly drawn, but to which of late
she had hardly dared to aspire, was the one appointed fi)r her
first appearance at the royal opera.  At the last rehearsal, it
is said, she sang the music with so much power and  expres   sion that the musicians laid down their instruments to give
her a round of applause.
2,, j- 0
4w 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
The evening came. We have an account of her de'l)ut
from the pen of hier firiend and kindred genlius, Frederika
Bremer: -
"I saw her at the evening representation.  She was then
in the spring of life, fresh, brilght, and serene as a morning
in May;  perfect in form;  her hands and her arms peculiarly graceful, and lovely in her whole appearance.  She
seemed to move, speak, and sing without effort or art.   All
was nature and hlarmony.   Her singilig was distiinguished
especially by its purity, and the power of soul which seemed
to swell in her tones.   Her'mezzo voice' was delilghtful.
In the night scene, where Agatha, seein(g her lover coiming,
breathes out her joy in rapturous song, our youiing, sing,er, onl
turning, fiom the window at the back of the staige to the spectattors agaiu, was pale for joy; and in that pale joyousness
she sang with a burst of outflowingv love and life, tl-t called
forth, not the mirth, but the tears of the auditors."
But her probation was not yet finished. After tfis dazzling
success, she remained for a while the favorite of the Stockholmn public, adding new characters to her list and striving in
every way known  to her to remedy certain seiious defects in
her voice and vocalization.   Miss Clayton informs us thatt
her voice was oriiginally wanting, in elasticity,  which prevented her from hlolding a note, and made it difficult for lhet
to execute those rapid passages and tliose brilliant effects upon
which the reputation of an operatic singer so nLmuctl  de(pends.
Who could im,agine this when hearing that wonderful execution of her later years?  IJ  her efforts to improve her voice
while performing at the opera she overstrained it, and the
public of Stockholm, limited in number  and fastidious in
taste, left her to siong to empty boxes.   She felt the necessity
of better instruction than her native city afforded.   Garcia
256
qw 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
was then living at Paris, at the height of his reputation as a
trainer of vocalists. She desired to place herself under his
instruction; but although she had been a leading performer
at the Stockholm opera for a year and a half, she was still
unable to afford the expense of a residence in Paris. To raise
the money she gave concerts, accompanied by her father, in
the principal towns of Sweden and Norway.  Her concerts
were successful, accorclding to the standard of Sweden; never theless, she was compelled to make the journey alone, while
her parents pursued their ordinary labors at home.  Her first
interview with Garcia was disheartening in the extreme.
"ty good girl," said he, after hearing her sing, "you
have no voice; or, I should rather say, that you had a voice,
but are now on the point of losing it.  Your organ is strained
and worn out; and the only advice I can offer you is to recommend you not to sing a note for three months.  At the
end of that time, conme to me again, and I will do my best
for you."
Few readers can conceive of the dejection and tedium of
such a period spent by this lonely girl, far fiom her home
and country, and denied the consolation of exercising her
talent.
"I lived," said she once, "on my tears and my thoughts
of home."
At the appointed time she stood again in the master's presence. Ile told her that her voice'was improved by rest and
capable of culture. She placed herself under his instruction,
and profited by it; but, strange to say, Garcia never predicted for her a strilking success, either because her voice had not
yet reg.tined its fireshness, or the old master's ear had lost its
acuteness. He used to say that if she had as much voice as
she had intelligence, she would become the greatest singer in
Europe, and that she would have to sing second to many who
had not half her ability.
17
257 
258     EMINENT WOMEN  OF TIlE AGE.
During, her residence at Paris, she had the honor of singing
before Meyerbeer, who instantly perceived the peerless quality of her voice.   Ile arranged a grand rehearsal for her,
with a full orchestra, when she sang the three most difficult
scenes from three favorite operas.  She delilghtecl the company of musicians and the great master who heard her, and she
narrowly escaped being engaged at once for the Gra-Ld Opera
of Paris.
Her musical education was now complete.   Returning
'home, she gave a series of performances at Stockholm, which
enraptured the pul)ic, carried her local reputation to the
hig,hest point, and secured for her a pressing invitation to sing
at Copenhagen.  It seems that she was still distrustful of her
I)owers, and shrank from the ordeal of appearing in a country
not her own.  I1er scruples at length gave way, and she appeared before the Danes ill the part of Alice, in " Robert le
Diable."  We have an interesting account of her success at
Copenhagen, in the autobiogrraphy of Ilans Christian Andersen, who not only heard her sing, but became acquainted with
her.  Ile says:
" It was like a new revelation in the realms of art.
The youthful, fresh voice forced itself into every heart;
here reigned truth and nature, and everything was full of
meaning and intelligence.   At one concert she sang, her
Swedish songls.  There was something so peculiar in this, so
bewitching, people thought nothing about the concert-room;
popular melodies, executed by a being so purely feminine,
and bearing the universal stamp of geniLus, exercised an omniipotent sway.  All Copenhagen was in raptures."
The students of the university gave her a serenade by
torchlight, and she was the first to whom such a compliment
was paid. Her success incited her to fresh exertions. An 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
dersen, who was with her when this serenade was given,
records, that after it was over she said, while her cheekli was
still wet with tears --
"Yes! yes! I will exert myself; I will endeavor; I will
be better qualified when I again come to Copcenhagen!"
It vw   at Copenhagen that she began to taste the nol)lest
fruit of her exertions, -the delight of doing good.   Andersen relates the first occasion of her singing for a benevolent
object:
On one occasion, only," he says, "did I hear her express
her joy in her talent and her self-consciousness.   It was
during her residence in Copenhagen.  Almost every evening,
she appeared either in the opera or at concerts; every hour
was in requisition.   She heard of a society, the object of
which was to assist unfortunate children, and to take them
out of the hands of their parents, by whom they were misused and compelled to beg or steal, and to place them in other
and better circumstances.  Benevolent people subscribed annually a small sum each for their support; nevertheless, the
means for this excellent purpose were very limited.'BIut
have I not still a disengag,ed evening?' said she;'let me
give a nilght's performance for the benefit of those poor children:
but we will hlave double prices!'  Such a performance was
given, and returned large proceeds. When she was informied
of this, and that, by this means, a number of poor children
would be benefited for several years, her countenance beamed,
and the tears filled her eyes.
"'It is, however, beautiful,' said she,'that I can sing
so!'"
From this time forward, she knew little but triutmph.
When she lert Stockholm again to enter uponl an engagement
259 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
at Berlin, the streets were crowded with people to bid her
farewell.  At Berlin, the Countess Rossi (Madiame Sonta,g)
pronounced her "the best singer in Europe."  At IIamnburg,
a silver wreath was presented to her at the end of a most
brilliant engagement.   At Vienna, her success was beyond
all precedent, and when she reappeared at Berlin the enthusiasm was such that it became a matter of great difliyllty to
procure admission to the theatre. WVe have heard much ourselves lately of speculation ill tickets. After she had performed a hundred nights in Berlin, the manager found it
necessary to issue the following notice:
"Tickets must be applied for on the day preceding that for
which they are required, by letter, signed by the applicant's
proper and Christian name, profession, and place of al)odle,
and sealed with wvax, bearing the writer's initials with his
arms. No more than one ticket can be granted to the same
person; and no person is entitled to apply for two consecutive nights of the enchantress's performance."
After four years of such success as this, her popularity
ever incereasing,, she accepted an engagemenlt to sing in London.  Her departure from her native city was attenided by
most extraordinary demonstrations. Her last concert in Stockholm was given in aid of a charitable institution founded iby
herself, and the tickets were sold at auction at prices unlhcetrd
of before in frugal Sweden.  MAany thousand  persons, it is
said, were upon the wharf when she sailed, and she went on
board the steamer amid the cheers of the people and the
music of military bands.   She reached London in April,
1847, and soon began her rehearsals at the QuLeen's Theatre.
WVhen her voice was first heard in that spacious edifice at a
rehearsal, no one was so enchanted as Lablache, the celebrated basso.
260 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHfIIDT.
"Every note," he exclaimed, " is like a pearl!"
She was pleased with the simile, and when they had become better acquainted, she reminded him of it ill a very
ag,reeable manner.  She came up to him one morning at rehearsal, and said to him:  " Will you do me the favor, Signor Lablache, to lend me
your hat?"
'Much surprised, he nevertheless handed her his hat, which
she took with a deep courtesy, and, tripping away with it to
the back part of the stage, began to singo an air illto it.  She
then brought back the hat to Lablache, and, ordering that
portly personage to kneel, she returned it to him with the
remark:   I have now made you a rich man, signor, for I have given
you a hat full of pearls!"
Everything which a favorite does seems graceful and pleasant.  This trifling, act delighted the whole company.
Three weeks elapsed before she appeared in London, during
which the excitement of the public rose to fever heat, and
when the eventful evenitng came the theatre was crammed to
its utmost capacity.   The Queen, Prince Albert, and many
of the leading personages ill Englnld were present.  She
sang the part of Alice, in "Robert le Diable."  Nervous, as
she really was, she succeeded so completely in controlling
herself, that she appeared to the audience remarkably selfpossessed, and by the time she had completed her first aria
every one present felt thlat the greatest singer of the time, if
not of any time, was this stranger from Stockholm.
"At its conclusion," said one of the critics, "she gave the
'Poulade' in full voice, limpid and deliciously sweet, and
finished witli a shake so delicate, so softly executed, that each
one held his breath to listtvn, and the torrent of applatise at
the end baffled description."
Every succeeding effort was a new triumph, and when the
261 
202    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
performance closed the audience were in such raptures that
they behaved more like Italians than Englishmen.  Her acting, too, at this time was greatly admired, and there was an
air of simplicity and goodness about her which won every
heart.
It is not necessary for us to dwell upon her career in England, because there is. nothing to say of it except that, everywhere and in every character, she appeared to have all the
success and glory which the stage affords.  Such wias the
struggle for tickets that persons were known to comne hlimdreds of miles to Lolldon on purpose to hear her sing, and,
after spending several days in fruitless attempts to gain admission to the opera house, return home without haviing heard
her.   At Edinburgh a concert was given, for performing in
which she received a thousand pounds sterling, La,blachle two
hundred, and another singer one hundred and fifty, and yet
the managers cleared twelve hundred pounds.  IIer charities
constantly increased in nutimber and amount.  In almost every
place she gave a part of her g,ains to charitable institutions.
After two years of continual triumph, she resolved to take
her leave of the stage, and to siing thenceforth only in the
concert-room.  IIer last performance was in May, 1849, when
she played the part of Alice, in the presence of the Queen of
England and an immense multitude of the most disting,uished
personages in England.
Her fame had long ago crossed the Atlantic.  In October,
1849, Mr. P. T. Barnum, who had recently returned home
after a three years' tour with the famous General Tom Thumb,
conceived the haipy idea of bestowing upon his countrymen
the delight of hearing the voice of the Swedish Nightiingale.
"I had never heard her sing," he tells us.   "IIer reputation was sufficient for me."   lie cast about him at once fior a
fit person to send to Europe to engage the songstress, and
soon pitched upon the rig,ht person, Mr. John Hall Wilton, 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
who had had some experience in the business of entertaining
the public.  Ile was instructed to engage  Jeinny Lind on
shares, if lhe could; but he was authorized, if he could do no
better, to offer her a thousand dollars a night for one hundred
and fifty nights.  Besides this, all her expenses were to be
paid, iincluding, servants, carrilges, and secretary, and she
was to have the privilege of selectilng three professional persons to accompany her.  Mr. Barnum further agreed to place
the whole amount of money for the hundred and fifty nights
in the hands of a London banker before she sailed.   When
Mr. WAVilton reached Europe he discovered that four persons
were neg,otiating with her for an American tour.  All of these
individuals, however, merely proposed to divide with her the
profits, and none of them were in a position to guarantee her
ag,ainst loss.  She frankly said to Wilton, after she had satisfied hlersclf respecting Mr. Barnum's character:  "As those who are trying to treat with me are all anxious
that I should participate in the profits or losses of the enterprise, I much prefer treating with you, since your principal
is willing, to assume all the responsibility, and take the entire
management and chances of the result upon himself."
The lnegotiationl did not linger.  Mr. Barnum gives a ludicrous account of the mannler in which he received the news
that Jeinny Lind had si,gned the desired agreement.   Ite received the telegraphic dispatch in Philadelphia which annouinced Wilton's arrival in New York with the agreelnent in
his pocket, and that MIademoiselle Lind was to begin her
concerts in the following September.
"I was somewhat startled," he tells us, "by this sudden
announcement, and feeling that the time to elapse before her
arriva.l was so long that it would 1)be policy to keep the engagetnent private for a few months, I immediately telegraphed
Wilton not to menltion it to any person, and that I would
263 
261    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
meet him the next day in New York.  The next day I started
for that city.   On arriviing at Princeton we met the cars, and,
pllrchasilg the morningi papers I was overwhelmed with surprise and dismay to find ill them a fulil account of my engagenmeit with Jenny.  however, this premature announcement
coultd not be recalled, and I put the best firce upon the matter.
Being anxious to learn how this communication would strike
the public mind, I informed the gentlemanly conductor (whom
I well knew) that I had made an engagement with Jenny
Lind, and that she would surely visit this country in the following AtiLgust.
' Jenny Lind!  Is she a dancer?' asked the conductor.
"I informed the conductor who and what she was, but his
question hadcl chllilled me as if his words were ice!  Really,
thought I, if this is all tlhat a man in the capacity of a railroad conductor between Philadelphia and New York knows
of the greatest songstress in the world, I am  not sure that
six months will be too long a time for me to occupy in enli,ghtening the entire public in regard to her merits."
Hiow well Mr. Barnum employed that time, most of us
remember.   Long  before the great songstress landed all
America was on the qui vive.   On Sunday, September 1,
1850, at twelve o'clockl, the steamer "Atlantic," with Jenny
Lind on board, came to opposite the quarantine ground, and
B\Ir. Barnum, who had been on the island since the evening,
before, was soon on board.
"But where did you  hear me sing?" Jenny Lind asked
him, as soon as the first compliments had been exchanged.
"I never had the pleasure of hearilng you before in my
life," said the manag,er.
I"ow is it possible," slhe rejoined, " that you dared risk so
much money on a person you never heard sing?"
"I risked it on your reputation," he replied, "which in 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
musical matters I would much rather trust than my  own
judrgment."
Mr. Barnum had made ample provision for her  Ilanding.
The wharves and ships were covered with thousands of people
on that pleasant Sunday afternoon to see her step on shore.
A large bower of green trees and two triumphtl arches coveredl with flags and streamers, were seen upon the wharf,the work of Mr. Barnum's agents.  The carriage of that enterprising person conveyed her to the Irving, Ilouse, which
was surrounded all that afternoon and evening with crowds
of people.  Mr. Barnum tells us that he had the pleasure
of dining with her that afternoon, and that during the meal
she invited him to take a glass of wine with her.   He replied:   Miss Lind, I do not think you can ask any other favor on
earth which I would not gladly grant; but I am a teetotaler,
and must beg to be permitted to drink your health and happiiiess ill a glass of cold water."
Nineteen days elapsed before her first appearance in public,
during which she was the centre of attraction, and the theme
of every tongue.   The acuite and experienced Barnlum, perceiving that his enterprise was an assured success, endeavored to guard against the only danger which could threaten it.
Two days after the arrival of the nightingale he told her that
he wished to make a little alteration in their agreement.
" What is it?" she asked, much surprised.
"I am convinced," replied he, "that our enterprise wilI be
much more successful than either of us anticipated.  I wish,
therefore, to stipulate that you shall always receive a thousand
dollars for each concert, besides all the expenses, and that
after taking fifty-five hundred dollars per night, for expenses
and my services, the balance shall be equally divided between
us."
Jenny Lind was astonished; antd supposipg that the propo
265 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sition was dictated by a sense of justice, she grasped flie
manager by the hand, and exclaimed:  "Mr. Barnum, you are a gentleman of honor!  You are
generous. I will singo for you as long as you please. I will
sing for you in America, - in Europe,- anywhere!"
Mir. Barnum hastens to let us know that the chainge in the
agreement was not the dictate of pure generosity. IJe feared
that envious persons would create discontent in her mind,
and he thought "it would be a stroke of policy to prevent
the possibility of such an occurrence."
The tickets for the first concert were sold at auction, and
produced the astonishing sum of $17,864.   Jenny Lind instantly resolved to give her portion of the proceeds to the
charitable institutions of the city.
The eventftil  evening came.    Five  thousand  persons
assembled at Castle Garden, who had paid for the privilege
sums which varied fromn two  dollars to two hundred  and
twent —five.  It was the largest audience before which she
had ever appeared, and she was considerably agitated. When
the coLLnductor of the concert led  her tforward, attired in
white, with a rose in her lhair, the audience rose and gave her
three tllhundering clheers, and continued for several seconds to
clap their hands and wave their hats and handkerchiefs.  She
had a singltlarly pleasing way of acknowled,ging the applause
of an audience.  She had a timidcl, shrinking look, which appealedl powerfully to popular sympathy, and inflamed the
enthusiasm of the spectators to the  highest degrce.  The
orchestra began to play the prelude to "Casta Diva,"- a
piece which displayed all the power, all the thrilling sweetness, and some of the defects of her wonderful organ.  Never
had an assembly  come  together with such high-wrought
expectations.  Nevertheless, those expectations seemed to
be more than realized, and the last notes of the song, were
lost in the irrepressible acclamations of the people.
2C6 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
This success was the beginning of a splendid calecr in
America.   Under  M1r. Barnumn's  management, she gave
ninety-five concerts.   The total receipts were  $712,161.
The averige receipts of each concert were  $7,496.  The
suili received by Jenny Lind was $176,675. Mr. Barnum's
receipts, after paying her, were $535,486.   Some of the
tickets broug,ht remarkable prices.  The highest price paid
for a ticket in New  York was $225; in Boston, $625; in
Providence, $650; in Philadelphia, $625; in New Orleans,
$240; in St. Louis, $150; in Baltimore, $100.  The price
of seats, not sold by auction, ranged from three dollars to
seven dollars.
After encheanting the United States it remained for Jenny
Lind to conquer the fastidious and difficult public of IIavana.
A strikiing scene occurred on the occasion of her first appearance in hIavana. The people, it seems, were much offendced by
the'unusual prices charg,edfor admission, and came to the concert determined not to be pleased, -  a circumstance of which
Jenny Liud was isgnoranit. The scene was thus described at the
time in the New York Tribune:
"Jenny Lind appeared, led on by Signor Belletti.  Some
three or four hundred persons clapped their hands at her appearance,; bitt this token of approbation was instantly silenced
by at least two thoisandcl five hundred decided hisses.  Thus,
having settled the matter that there should be no forestalling
of public opinion, and that if applause was given to Jenny
Lind in that house it should first be incontestably earned, the
most solemn silence prevailed.  I have heard the Swedish
nigh,tinga,le often in Europe as well as America,  and have
ever noticed a distinct tremulousness attendcling her first appearalnce in any city.  Indeed, this feeling was plainly mauifested in her countenance as she                    neared the foot-lights; but
whlen                                 she witnessed the kind of reception in store for her,
a
267 
268   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
so different from anythingo she had reason to expect,-  her
countenance changced in an instant to a haughty self-posses  sion, her eye flashed defiance, and, becoming, immovable as a
statue, she stood there, perfectly calm and beautiful.  She
was satisfied that she now had an ordeal to pass and a victory
to gain worthy of her powers.  In a moment,.ber eye scainned
the immense audience, the music began, and then followed how can I describe it? — such heavenly strains as I verily
believe mortal never breathed except Jenny Lind, and mortal
never heard except friom her lips.   Some of the oldest Cas tilians kept a frown upon their brow and a curling sneer upon
their lip; their ladies, however, and most of the audience began
to look surprised.  The gushing melody flowed on, ilncreasing
in beauty and glory.   The  caballeros, the senoras, and
senoritas began to look at each other; nearly all, however,
kept their teeth clenched and their lips closed, evidently determined to resist to th% last.   The torrent flowed faster and
faster, the lark flew higher and higher, the melody grew
richer and richer; still every lip was compressed.   By and
by, as the rich notes came <lashing in rivers upon our enraptured ears, one poor critic involuntarily whispered a' brava.'
This outbursting, of the soull was instantly hissed down.  The
stream of harmony rolled on till, at the close, it made a clean
sweep of every obstacle, and carried all before it.  Not a
vestige of opposition remained, but such a tremendous shout
of applause as went up was never before heard.
"The triumph was most complete.   And how was Jenny
Lind affected?  She, who stood a few moments previous like
adamant, now trembled like a reed in thle wind before the
stormn of eilthusiasm which her own simple notes had produced.  Tremblingly, slowly, and almost bowiing her face
to the ground, she withdrew.  The roar and applause of
victory increased.   Encore! encore!  encore! came from
every lip.  She again appeared, and, courtesying low, ag,ain 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDr.
withdrew;  but again, again, and again did they call her
forth, and at every appearance the thunders of applause rang,
louder and louder.  Thus five times was Jenny Lind called
out to receive their unanimous and deafening plaudits."
Mr. Barnum gives his version of the story:
"I cannot express," he says, "what my feelings were as I
watched this scene from the dress circle.  When I witnessed her triumph, I could not restrain the tears of joy that
rolled down my cheeks; and, rushing through a private box, I
reached the stage just as she was withdrawing after the fifth
encore.
"'God bless you! Jenny, you have settled them,' I ex
claimed.
"'Are you satisfied?' said she, throwing her arms around
my neck.  She, too, was crying with joy, and never before
did she look so beautiful in my eyes as on that evening,."
In Hiavana, as in every other large city in America, she
bestowed immense sums in charity, and gave charity concerts
which produced still larger benefactions. During, her residence in America, she gave away, in all, about fifty-eight
thousand dollars.
The precaution which Mr. Barnum had taken against the
intermeddling of envious persons proved to be insufficient,
and, after the ninety-fifth concert, Jenny Lind desired the
contract to be annulled, and to give concerts on her own
account. The manager gladly assented, and they separated
excellent friends.
Mr. Horace Greeley, in one of his recent contributions to
the "New York Ledger," adds an anecdote of Mademoiselle
269 
270    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Lind's stay among us.   It was at the time when the " PL)chester IKnlockings" were a topic of interest.
I called," said Mr. Greeley, " on Mademoiselle Jcenny
Lind, then a new-comer among ous, and was conversing about
the  current marvel  with  the late  N.  P.  Willis, while
3i1ademoiselle Lind was devoting herself more especially to
some other callers.  Our conversation caught M'tdemnoiselle
L.'s ear and arrested her attention; so, after making some
inquiries, she asked if she could witness the so-called'Manifestations.'  I answered that she could do so by coming to
my house in the heart of the city, as IKaty Fox was then
staying with us. She assented, and a time was fixed for her
call; at which time she appeared, with a considerable retinue
of total strangers. All were soon seated around a table, and
the'rappings' were soon  audible  and abundant.'Take
your hands  from  under the table I' Mademoiselle  Jenny
called across to me in the tone and manner of an indifferently bold archduchess.'What?' I asked, not distinctly comprehending her.'Take your hands from under
the table!' she imperiously repeated; and I now understood
that she suspected me of causing, by some legerdemain, the
puzzling, concussions. I instantly clasped my hands over my
head, and there kept them until the sitting closed, as it did
very soon.   I need not add, this made not the smallest
differences with the'rappings;' but I was lhoroughly and
finally cured of any desire to exhibit or commend them to
strangers."
Jenny Lind, like Miss Kemble, met her destiny in America.
Among the performers at her concerts was Mr. Otto Goldschmidclt, a pianist and composer, whom  she had formerly
known in Germany, and with whom she had pursued her
musical stcudies. I1er firiendship for this gentleman ripened
into a warmer attachment, and ended in their marriage at
p 
JENNY LIND GOLDSCHMIDT.
Boston, in 1851.  After residing some time at Northampton,
il Miassachusetts, they returned to Europe, where they have
ever since resided.  Occasionally, Madame  Goldschlmidt has
appeared in public concerts, accompanied by her husband.
She is now forty-seven years of age, and her voice is said to
retain a considerable degree of its former brilliancy and
power.  Living, as she does, in great privacy, little is known
of her way of life; but that little is honorable to her. IHer
charities, it is said, are still bountiful and continuous, and
she is as estimable a member of society as she is a shining
ornament to it. The great secret of her success as an artist
was well expressed by her friend, Jules Benedict:  "Jenny Lind makes a conscience of her art."
2?71 
272     ElMINEi.T WOMEn' OF THE AGE.
OUR PIONEER EDUCATORS.
BY REV. E. B. IIUNTINGTON.
To woman rather than to man, and to woman in this century rather than in any former one, belongs the credit of
preparing the way for the fuiture libleral education of women.
Hereto.)fore the aids to her education have been few and defective.  A really liberal education for her has hardly bccn
possible.  Colletgiate and University courses have been closed
against her; so that if occasionally a woman has succeeded
in gaining, the reputation of a scholar, it has been mainly due
to her own unaided exertions, -a triumph of her personal
genius and will.  We  have reached a state of public sentinient now, however, which, partially, at least, accords to
woman the right to enter any field of literature or art, which
she may choose; and, to a certain extent, we are furnishing
her with such aids as for generations have been furnished for
her brothers.
Already we are gathering excellent fruits from this advance made in our theory and system of woman's culture.
Our multiplied young ladies' seminaries and collegiate institutions, and still more our colleges and professional schools
in which the two sexes are, to their mutual benefit, prosecuting together the studies which were formerly confined to only
one of them, are important results already attained. Still
maturer  fruit we  have, in  the  increasing  numbers  of  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ P ~~i; ~; ~) 
MRS. EMMA WILLARPD.
thoroughly educlated women lwho are now prel).pared to occupy ch-airs of instruction, once filled only by the most honored alumni of our best universities.  WVe are coming to
welcome womatn's taste, and tact, and power, illto every department of our educational work, and we have much to
hope from the new element thus introduced.  Without attempting to name, even, the many eminent women whose
personal attainments and services have contributed larg,ely
towards this result, we shall, in this chapter, briefly sketch
the career of only two of them, who, by common consent,
runst be held to rank as pioneers in this most excellent work.
MRS. EMMA WILLARD.
First among the women, still living, who have attained
high rank as professional educators, must stand the name at
the head of this sketch.  And this position  Mrs. Willard
deserves, whether we regard her as a pioneer, creationg for
herself, and her sex, a new place and rank among educators,
or simply as an earnest and skilful worker, renderiing eminent
service in this field. That she is fairly entitled to this em.
inecne among the gifted women of our day, a very brief
sketch of her career will fully show. The story itself is a
true epic, needing only the simplest recital, -its main facts
being more excitilng, than any fiction we should dare to;
invent.
HER BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD.
February 23, 1787, is the date of her birth; Samuel and
Lydia (Hinsdale) Hart, her parents; and a quiet country farmhouse in the parish of Wortiington, in Berlin, Connecticut, her
birthplace.  Born of the best New England stock, she inherited the noblest qualities of her parentage.  IIer fiather,
a man of unusual strength of intellect and will, was self              18~~
18
273 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
reliant, and well-read, in, at least, the English literature of
the times; and her mother a quiet and practical woman,
gifted with native tact and shrewdness, gentle, firm, and
efficient. The home they made for their children wvas just
the home in which gifted children would like to be -reared.
And this home, more  than anything else determined  the
character and success of Emma, their sixteenth child, whose
record we are now to trace.  Being one of seventeen of her
father's children, and one of the ten whom her ownl mrother
had borne him, she early found in this large circle one important means of her training.
Let us enter that rural home. We will take an early
evening hour, about mid-winter, and for the date it may be
anywhere between her birthday and the year 1804, the date
of her first attempt to teach. The scene we shall witness
will best prepare us for what we are to learn of the great
work of her future life.
The children have already spent their six hours in their
school. They have severally done up the chores which, in
those primitive times, our children were supposed able to
do.  They had just finished with thanlksgiving their relishful supper.  The youngest of them have already dropped
away into the sweet sleep of their night's rest.  The huge
wood fire glows warmly upon that happy home-circle gathlering around it.  The older children, all aglow with a joyful
interest, finish the little story of their day's filn, and frolic,
and work, and successively test their sklill in reading aloud a
few well-chosen passages from the selectest authors of the
day.  Then father and mother, no less joyful, add the benediction of their few words of approval, and their timely
hints for correction. And now, for another half hour, or
hour, if this be deemed needed, the father and motherblessed mentors they!-read, in their turn, aloud, and with
the skillwhich long practice has given them, their lessons for
274 
MRS. EMMA WILLARD.
themselves and their little flock.  Milton chances, it may be,
to be the classic now in hand; and, as the magnificent word picture opens before them, the very youingest of the group is
stirred with fancies and thoughts which shall be to them the
germs of thought for many a year to come.
Happy, blessed group, for whose early years such a home
is furnished! What child of gifts could ftil of largest firuit ag,e, whose bloom is amid such home sunshine and warmth?
Let us take one more lesson from that Worthington home;
and let the mother of the family be our teacher. Notice
with what womanly ingenutity she makes their slender re sources ample for all their home wants, and even for the
gratification of a cultivated home taste. Notice how thoulghtfully she provides for the poor family out under the hill, to
whom the warm breakfast she sends them, makes the only
glad hour of their poverty-stricken home. And then, when
all these home and neighborhood duties are so skilfully discharged, she is not satisfied until she has given her children
a lesson of thoughtful kindness to the little birds that are to
sing for them.  The refuse wool, which can be of iro use to
the family, she teaches her little ones how to leave about on
the bushes for a hint to the charming warblers to build their
fleece-lined nests near to the human home which she would
have blest by their sweet singing.
And thus, this admirable home-training, with some two
years of study in the village academy, then just opened under a skilful teacher, broulght Emima forward to the beginnicng of her life-work.  She had used her opportunities well.
She had been required to think and plan for herself. Her
powers of observation and her practical jtudgment had been
equally taxed and improved; and it is not too mnuch to say,
that, in literary attainment, and still more, in ability to learn,
she had exceeded her years.  A young lady of fourteen, who,
on a cold night in mid-winter, wrappitng herself in her cloak,
275 
276    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
with the horse-block for her observatory,  cotld there l)y
mnoonli,ghlt mlaster the lesson of astronomy, which the mierry
song-sing,ers ill the house would leave her no opportunlity
there to learn, has already some elements of character which
are the best pledgces of success.
HER EXPERIMIENTAL CAREER.
She has nowv just passe(ld her seventeecth birthday. Through
the friendly solicitation of a neighbor, an intelligent lady,
who, though more than twice her age, had foulnd in her an
equal, she was installed as teacher of one of the village
schools.  HLer first day's experience  here settled many  a
principle for her filture course.  The tact with which she
beg,an would well have crownedl the end of another teacher's
professional career.  WAith her, a difficulty once encountered
was mastered forever.  Discarding the rod as a means of
discipline,,fter the second day's trial, she sought and found
her way so directly to the hearts of her pupils; she so skilfully planned their exercises and their sports; she so soon
and so thoroughly excited their interest in their school duties,
andcl so made this interest itself the only needed discipline,
that her first school soon reported itself in all the neilghborhood as a marvel of the times.   She found herself, even thus
early in her mere girlhood, crowned with the laurels of her
first success.  And  now, for three years, in learning, and
teaching, a part of which time was  spent in the excellent
schools of M'rs. Royce and the Misses Patten, in Hartford,
she was fast pri-eparing herself for entering upon the,great
work of her life.  And what was of especial value to her was
the habit, then established, of prosecuting her own advanced
studies while engaged in teaching those already mastered.
Such success soon attracted attention.  The sprilng of 1807
brings to her- calls from three important schools, in Westfield, Massachusetts;  Middlebury, Vermont; and Hudson, 
MRS. EMMA WILLARD.
New York.  She accepted the Westfield call; and as assistant teacher ill the excellent academy of that tovwn, she at
once won for herself a good name.  Buit Iiss Hlart was not
the person to fill long a subordinate platce.  Before her first
season was over, she had decided to accept the call from
lMiddlebury; and midsummer of the same year fillnds lher at
the head of her new school there.  A  year of ")rilliant
success" crowns this third experiment, and settles the question of her fitness for the work she had chosen.  Local
jealousies soon spring up, and the school, ill spite of her
great popularity, suffers;  yet even this olpposition had its
influence in training and disciplining her for a better and
stronger work.
W1hile in this struggle, a new call is made upon her.  Dr.
John Willard, of Middlebury, a physician of good repute,
and a man of solid political merit, had discovered the gifts
and graces of the young teacher.  Nor was he lo,g in winning his way to her heart and hand.  They were happily
married in August, 1809, whlen, for a few years, her work
of teaching was interrupted.
Pecuniary reverses soon came upon them; and to aid iu
retrieving their fortune, Mrs. Willard, in 1814, proposed to
return to her chosen profession.  She opened in MIiddlcbury
a boarding-school for girls.  But she was also preparingi for
somethling more.  She had, even then, detected how low and
unworthy were the aims and results of that class of scho,)ls.
She was especially struck with the difference between the
collegiate course of a young man, and the highlest culture
which the best schools of the day furnished for young
women; and the discovery had been to her a summons to
a new work.
With what enthusiasm she entered upon thli(tt work!  Carefully reviewing the whole sul-ject of womant's education, she
drew up her plan for an enlarged course of study, corre
277 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sponding, as nearly as the dclifferet sexes would indicate, with
the collegiate course for young men.  But she found herself
in advance of the ag,e.  The leaders ill public opinion were
not yet ready for such a chainge.   She fortunately finds her
husband in full sympathy with her, and so takes heart ng,ain,
as she goes on testing its feasibility.  Working daily, ten,
twelve, or even fifteen hours in her school duties, she still
takes time to master newv studies herself that she may in due
time carry her pupils through them.   And so, by exploring
new fields of science and literature herself; by teacllhing and
drilling her classes, as few classes of young ladies had ever
before been drilled; by adding, to the old course new studies,
and submitting the proficiency of her pupils to the criticism
of the most learned men of the day; and by skilfully winningo over to her new ideas a few leading minds, she was preparing the way for a new era in womana's education; mnakiig
possible the establishment and support of the great collegiate
institutions in which women may take rank in all literature
with their most scholarly brothers.
Some four years were spent in this preparation.  Meanwvhile the unwonted stimulus thus furnished to her own boarding-school had worked greatly in her favor.  The fatme of
her experiment had gone far and wide; and she was now
prepared to tailke the first steps towards a permanent institution in which her enlarged views and hopes could  be more
fully realized.  The very location of the institution was a
matter of careful thought; and for it, the State of New York,
and of that State, the neighborhood of the head-waters of the
Hudson, was chosen.
HER GREAT WORK.
And now, in 1818, she is prepared for her work. She has
matured her plans, and secured strength for their execution.
278 
MRS. EMMA WILLARD.
She submits her proposals to the larg,e-minded Governor Clinton, of New York, with a special plea that he would la.y the
matter in due form, and with the wei,ght of his approval, before
the legislature.  The very plan, which in 1814 had begun to
shape itself to her eager search, sketched and resketched
even to the seventh time, was thus, in 1818, submitted to the
judgment of those who make and sustain the instituitions of
their age. Of the details of that plan we have not slpace to
treat.  It is due, however, to say, that down  to this day,
nothing has been contributed to our educational literature
which exceeds either the wisdom of its details or the eloquence of its plea.   The governor heartily approved the
measures which it recommended.  The legislature so fitr endorsed them as to incorporate an academy at Waterford, New
York, in which the founder mi,ght still more  clearly show
their feasibility.
A still more important end secured by this movement was
an acknowledgment, on the part of the legislature, that the
academies in the State, designed for the education of women,
were entitled to the same pecuniary aid as institutions of
learning for the other sex; and a vote was accordingly passed
appropriating their proportion of the literature fund to
academies for girls.
We cannot but feel that it was most fortunate for Mrs.
Willard that such a man as Governor Clinton was ready to
second her aims.  And yet, it is very certain, we thinkl, that
but for Mrs. Willard herself, her years of pltient and zealous
and skilful working, we have no reasons for believing, that for
at least another quarter of a century, such concessions would
have been made, even to so just a demand.
In the spring of 1819, thus encouraged by the legislature,
Doctor and Mrs. Willard opened their new school in a rented
building in WVaterford, New York. Their success was such
279 
2o0   EMINENT WOMEN OF THiE AGE.
as to justify Governor Clinton, ill his message of 1820, to allude to it in these terms: --
"I cannot omit to call your attention to the Academy for
Female Education, which was incorporated last session at
Waterford, and which, under the superintendence of distinguished teachers, has already attained great usefulness and
prosperity.  As this is the only attempt ever made in this
country to promote the education of the fem,le sex by the
patronage of government; as our first and best impressions
are derived from maternal affections; and as the elevation of
the femnale character is inseparably connected withl happiness
at home, and respectability abroad; I trust that youi will not
be deterred, by commonplace ridicule, from  extending, your
munificence to this meritorious institution."
The citizens of Troy, attracted b)y the success of the
Waterford school, proposed to furnish a building with suitable grounds for a larger institution there, if Mrs. Willard
would consent to a removal.  On the expiration of their lease
in Waiterford, this proposal from Troy was accepted, aned in
May, 1821, they took possession of the Troy property, which
since that date has been used for the Troy Seminary thus established.
The same industry and zeal in her profession, and the same
progress in her personal culture marked the course of MArs.
Willard here as in her former schools.  To  the studies she
had already added to the ordinary curriculum of the sehools
for young ladies of tl)hat day, she now, after thoroulghly ilas
tering them herself, adds the higher mathematics, geometry,
including trigonometry, alg,ebra, conic sections, and Enfield's
natural philosophy.  With all this working she still found
time for remodelling the science of geography and history;
and the results of this painstaking to furnish herself suitable
4 
MRS. EMMA WILLARD.
implements of her profession we had in Willard and Woodbridge'spopularGeography in 1821, and Mrs. Willatrd's "Temple of Time and Chrono,grapher of Ancient IIistory."  This
inlgenious design received a medal at the World's Fair in
1U81.  The certificate of testimonial, signed by Prince Albert, was no empty tribute to the eminient author, but rathler
a tribute to the substantial contribution to our aids in learniing
and teaching what oulght to be the most fascinating, yet what
had notoriously become the most uninteresting, of all our
studies.
In Centering upon her enllarged sphere of labors in Troy,
AIrs. Willard found the gain of her preceding work.   The
yotung ladies whom she had taulght, and who  had caugiht
somiething of the inspiration of her aims and zeal, were nowV
already trained for her help.  Her experience and practice
had made the work of classification and mana:gement easy to
her, and her great reputation, of itself, would go far towards
making her success a certainty.
She had scarcely settled herself to her work when an iunforeseen trial came upon her.  Her husband, who,,is head of
the faimily, as physician and financial man,ager of the Ilarge
household, all as her constant and intelligent adviser; had
been a real partner and sharer of her work, after a painful
sickness, dlied in 1825.  On her rested now the great burden
which he had borne for her.
Yet, wvithl a resolution more than we look for in wvoman,
she did not hesitate.  Rearrangingi her school terms, simplifying a,nd methodizing, her workli, she could  even add to her
former duties the financial manafgemenit of her school.  She
neither neglected the claim of the humblest pupil under her
charge, nor any important item of business in managingc the
large establishment.  Down to 1838, she thus continued the
motive power and main spring of that first of Amnerican
schools for young women.
281 
282    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
And her reward was not long delayed   It came in the
triumph of her own school.  It came in the increased stimu lus she had given to the cause of womanl's education.  It
came iu the readier facilities accorded to youong women in our
collegiate institutions; and still more signally in those large
institutions expressly for women which her success had made
possible.  We can now readily see how much South Hadley,
Oberlin, Antioch, Packer, and Vassar are indebted to her
pioneer work.
While achlieving. this success at home, she had not been
unmindful of the claims of woman abroad.   In 1830 she had
soulght abroad the rest and health which her home duties requiired, and the relief from her professional work gave her
the opportunity to examine the educational condition of
women in other lands.  Her womanly heart was touched
with the report which came to her of the degraded condition
of woman  in classic Greece, and on her return she organized
a society in Troy to aid in establishing a school in Athens for
educating native teachers.  She prepared a volume of her
European tour, giving the benefit of its profits to the Greek
school.
But the time at length came when it was necessary for her
to retire from the pressure of these great burdens upon her.
Her son, Mr. John H. Willard, who had grown tip under a
trainiing which had specially fitted him for it, and his wife,
who for nineteen years had been with her as pupil, or teacher,
or vice-principal, now accepted the trust, and relieved her of
its further care.
But Mrs. Willard all these years had been not simply the
practical teacher, but also a most unwearied student, and the
opportunity is now afforded her of prosecuting her studies
with new zeal.  She had been testing Dr. William IHarvey's
theory of the circulation of the blood, in which the heart is
made the motive power, and she soon detected its fallacy. 
MRS. EMMA WILLARD,
She nlow sets herself to the more careful stu-l) of thiis iiiteresting problem.  WVith all the enthusiasm of,i pa,f.si, n
anatomist and physiologist, she explores thoroughlil  the entire
field, and the result was a work on the "Motive Powers which
produce the Circulation of the Blood."  This treatise, published in 1846, arrested the attention of the medical flactLilty,
and won for its author the reputation of a successful discoverer.
At the same time these investigations were going, on, her
feeliings became deeply interested in the public schools of her
native State.  While on a visit to Berlin, she was asked to
furnish her views on the subject of common-school education,
to be submitted to the citizens of her native town asseimbled
in all educational meeting.  The paper she submitted showed
so much wisdom, and indicated so true an interest in thle coinimon schools, that the parish, by vote, put their schools for
the year under her care.  Her success in managing them wYas
a marvel, and the schools, thus skilfully superintended, were
referred to by Mr. Barnard, then as now, a prince among
educators, as witnesses to what skilful management will do
for schools.
And so, by study and writing, even to twelve and fourteen
hours daily; by stirring up educators and schools to more
skilful and earnest working, both in Connecticut and New
York; by suggesting new plans and methods of teaching; by
projecting normal schools before the day of normal schools
had come, -this woman, thoroughly alive to all that promised
to advance her race, used more diligently her years of rest
than most workers do the hours of their busiest working.
And if the question is raised, how could one with only a
woman's strength sustain such efforts,. the answer will only
lead us to still another field of her unwearied and painstaking labor. She worked for it. She studied carefully the
condition and wants of her physical nature, and provided for
283 
284    EMINENT VWOMEN OF TIE AGE.
both.  She trained even her muscles to their healtLhfil  and
self-stlsttiliing work.   She wishes a clear, vigorotis, lifefuli
brain, and she uses the only methods she could discover that
promised it.  See her, early in the morning, at her honest,
earliest, muscular work.  And when she has entered upon the
mental lal)or of the day, see her, at tfle end of each two
hours through the day, resting, her toiling brain by vigorous
physical exercise, until the eqtuilibrium is restored.  You need
not fear for her, as she drops the sash of her study window,
and facing the fresh cold breeze stands there exercising the
muscles of her chest until her lungs have been satisfied with
their needed food, and her blood freshly potirs its hlealth-tides
throughout her nowv reinlvigoratedl fi'tLme.   She has nowv
worked her whole system up to workling trim, and you need
not wonder if, when she seats herself at her papers, she should
record a thought or a theory which shall henceforth clhange
and ru'le the thou,ghts and theories of men.  It is really no
marvel that one with such a physical and mental constitution
as she inherited, with such skilful traininig as her very'necessities had imposed on her youlnger life, and with the care
which her maturer years had exercised over both her body
and brain, should at fifty years of age give to the world her
Troy SemiLary; at sixty, her original demonstrattion on the
"Motive Powers in the Circulation of the Blood;" at sixtytwo, her treatise on "Respira.tion and its Effects;" and at
sixty-five, a work onl astronomy, which even the masters in
the science were ready to endorse.  It is no marvel, that,
after having had an important part in the trainingi of niore
than five thousand yotung ladies, she still found time and
strength to become the teacher of the teachers of men.   It
is no marvel that at fifty-eight she could, in a journey of eig,ht
thousand miles, traverse a continent, rejoicing everywhere
equally in the joy of her pupils and in the prosperity of the
schools for joung, lad'es which her influence had contributed 
MRS. EMlMIA W'ILLAILD.
to found; nor that at sixty-seven she could cross the ocean,
and mingle in the exercises andl clljoy thle lhonors of tlhe
World's E(lueLtionnl Convention, and thence make the tour of
France, Switzerland, Germany, and Belgiumt tril)utary still
to her zeal for observation and learning.
Buit not alone in these literary and educational workls has
3Irs. Willard used her great powers.   tier religious chairacter has been also as carefully educleted, and an effective Chlristian culture has been a constant aim and triumph il her worlk.
Unitin g with the Episcopal church in Burilington, she has
ever since been a devout and worthy communicant.  In all
her study and work, her appeal has been to God's word for
her standard and law.  She spoke with great deliberation in
her weilghty charge to those whom she would commission with
the solemni trust of teachers, when she said to them, in all the
seriousness of her earnest convictions: " So ftr, however,
froIm depending on set times for the whole discharge of the
duty of training the young to piety anid virtue, you are, during all your exercises, to regard it as the grand object of your
labors."
Of her active and wide-reaching benevolence the record
has been a private one.  Yet many and timely have been her
benefictions which the ang(el has recorded on high.   We klnow
this much, that scores of the yotung women whlom she has
aided to secure the education, whlich, without such aid, they
could not have secured, are still grateful for her quick sym pathies and generous aid.  It is safe to say that twenty thou sand dollars would not now make Mrs. Willard's exchequer
good for these offeriings to the cause of woman's education.
But we cannot ling,er longer on these lessons of her usefill
and honored life.  AIrs. Willard is still living, and as we
might, from all we have learned of her former life, expect,
her latest years are not without their rich and wortlhy fruits.
The serene dignity of age well befits now the form which
28a 
286    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
forty years ago was radiant with womanly beauty.  Under
the shadow in her own dear seminary, she can but rejoice in
this proud monument of her life.
Here, surrounded with the trophies of her life-work, embosomed in the love of those whose young affections she
drew to herself, and cheered by that precious religious hope
which has purified her life, long may she yet enjoy with us
the rewards of her long life, so nobly and worthily spent for
her sex and race! 
MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB.
Hardly less positive need we be in assigning the second
place on our list of educational pioneers to the excellent
and popular principal of the Ladies' Department of Oberlin
College. Since 1835, she has held, in this Western institution, a place of great responsibility, and during all those
years she has shown herself every way worthy the confidence
she has inspired. True she has never presumed to claimn for
herself any such position; yet for this very reason she is all
the worthier of it.  True she may not have arrested the gaze
of the world, like many another woman whose life has been
a glittering show, yet we shall find her to be one of those
quiet and silent forces, which are noiselessly working out the
most usefill and even the grandest problems of the age and
rate.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i
race.
Who has not noticed how men and women of exceedingly defective character, and even of very limited ability,
are often lifted, in spite of themselves, into notoriety, and,
for a while at least, enjoy a reputation for goodness and
power, for which the unthinking world do not fail to honor
them? Or who has failed to see how others, of great native 
MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB.
ability and of rarest excellence of character, have been so
retiring and modest, or so overshadowed by showier presumers, as scarcely during their lifetime to attract our attention?  Has not noisy and blaring pretence always seemed at
leastto win its way more readily than highest merit? -  even
as the lightning's flash is more sure of wiinning your attention
than the most genial sunbeam of the loveliest morning.  And,
still, who has not also seen how certainly Providence at
length reverses all this seemnling, experience of life? IHe lifts
the lowliest to the loftiest place.  He makes the weakest the
strongest. He confounds what men call wisdom, by establishing what they have pronounced folly.  He, at length, brings
worthy merit out of its obscurity into the clearest li,ght; and,
over the dazzle and glory of all mere gilded radi,(nce, sooner
or later spreads the pall which covers all its empty shams.
And when this rectification comes, who does not see how real
was the merit before undiscovered, and how  exceedinglv
thin and worthless the gilding which so dazzled the eye?
Possibly the sketch we here attempt may  justify these
reflections.  We shall have to speak of a character which has
never courted the world's notice, yet one to which the world
is certainly under no small obligation.  With  no brilliant
display of personal charms, no parade of talents, no exciting
incidents to kindle to an impassioned glow our admiration,
we shall still find, at every step in our review, ample reason
for the place we have assigned to one of the world's true and
fatithfiil and successful workers.   As a pioneer in establishiing
and sustaining the fullest curriculum of studies for woman
yet reached, embracing a mental discipline as severe and
thorougc,h as that which has been required of young, men,especially, as pioneer in a movement which has done so much
towards supplying our broad West with their great and
efficient institutions for the advanced culture of woman, -she
certainly deserves well of her sex and her race. Very corn
287 
288    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
petent authority, Mrs. Caroline HI. Dal], of Boston, has well
characterized her fitness for the post of lady principal at
Oberlin.    The splendid endowment  of Vassar  College,"
she says,   could not give to Oberlin a woman better suited
to this purpose than Mrs. Dascornb."
Let us, then, briefly trace the educational career of this gifted
and successful woman.   We must do this, in full klnowvleldge
of two special hindrances to our attempt, - the extreme
modesty of Mrs. Dascomb's character, which shrinks senlsitively from all public exhibition and criticism; and the fact
that her entire educational life has been so intimately associated with that of so many other educators, so that it may
be difficult to decide of any particular result, how much of it
is due to her agency, or what part of it she should share
with her associates.
Marianne Parker, a child of Christian parents, of good
New England stock, which itself was of best English puritan
blood, was born in Dunbarton, N. II., in 1810.  She wasthe
seventh  of eight children, five daughters  and three sons,
whom her mother, Martha Tenney, had borne to her father,
William  Parker.   At the early age of four she  became
fatherless; and with a large family of children, and but a
small patrimony, was  left to such care and culture as her
mother, who was an excellent woman, could supply.  The
children were therefore, of necessity, early taught the lessons
of economy and mutual helpfulness. The elder memlbers of
the family cheerfully fitted themselves to aid their mother in
caring for the younger; and these in their turn were trained
in habits of thoughtfuil and helpful industry.' It was thus
that that interesting group were best disciplined and trained
to lives of great usefulness. Those days of preparation were
well and wisely spent.  The physical and social culture then
furnished was of incalculal)e value to them all.  The necessities which imposed such burdens may have been trying to 
MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCO0MB.
both the mother and her young charge; but its fruits in after
years even until now have proved all exceeding reward.
We cannlot wonder when, in later years, we find how all of
thlat group have worked  themselves  up ilnto positions of
honored  usefulness, such as only earnest and  intelligent
workers can fill.  How like the story of how  many  New
Ellgland f.tmilies of fifty years ago it reads!
Three of the sisters in due time became the wives of three
ministers, and the fourth that of a professional and useful
teacher. Of the brothers, the eldest, after graduating at
college, I)ecame a successfiil teacher; the second, on whlom
the care of the home and widowved mother fell, has done good
service in the church and woild; and the third is still, as for
the last qularter of a century, an approved minister of Christ.
A  whole family thus given to the cause of learning and
religion is just the source from  which we might expect a
pioneer and leader, or at any rate an efficient promoter, of
some needed movement in education or in ethics.
And such a character we believe we have in the subject of
this sketch.  From the first she gave indications of possessing
liarge native al)ility.  To her natural inquisitiveness was added
clear and quick perception, with a corresponding ftilness of
the reasoning faculty; and so, under the stimulus of the
home and cealy school culture which she enjoyed, she made
rapid progress in acquiringi, knowledge.   Nor was she deficient
in such social and affectional qualities as are needed to constitute one the best and most serviceable of friends; or to give
one the firmest hold on the confidence and affections of others,
and so the most effcient power for good or evil over them.
In early girlhood she is reported to us as " one of the best of
playmaates," and in maturer years we find her as sympathetic
and affectionate  and  persuasive as  then; while to these
mnerely companionable qualities she has added the power and
authority of a dignified and matronly grace.
19
289 
290    EMINENT WOMEN OF TIHE AGF.
Her early school education was much like that of the ma.
jority of girls of that day.  Speciall]]y favorable to her progress was the influence over her of Miss Chase, a sister of our
present Chief Justice Chase, who was in her thirteenth year
her teacher; and also that of her brother-in-law, PR,ev. Thomas
Tenney, who had charge of the Ilampton Aet(leriy.  After
leaving the I'ampton Academy, she prosecuted her education
in various schools as pupil or teacher, until, anxious to lay
deeper and broader foundations for what she was coming to
look upon as her future profession, -teaching, - shle entered
the Ipswich Academy, then in charge of Miss Grant, one of
:the ablest of our lady teachers of that day.  Iere she graduated in 1833, ranking high in her class, and ready for any
good service in almost any field of womanl's work which might
open before her.  Nor had she long to wait.   She entered
vith enthusiasm the first field open to her, -a school in
Boscawen, New IIampshire, and was there making full proof
of the wisdom of her choice of pursuits, when another call was
miade upoii her.
Dr. James Dascomb, a young, physician, well fitted for his
profession, - a Christian gentleman, longing to find the field in
-vhich he might do best service for his race,- had then just
offered himself to the American Board of Commissioners for
Foreiign Missions, as a missionary physician to some heathen
field.  While looking, forward to such  service, he became
acquainted with Miss Parker.  IIe was not long in detecting,
in the spirit and character of the young and ardent teacher,
the qualities which would be most fitting for one who should
be his helpmeet in such a life-work.  Nor wivs she long, in
reciprocating his confidence and affection.
Pending, his negotiation with the American Board, Plovlclence was preparing for himl another field and service.  A
mnovement had been started to establish at the West a school
of collegiate rank for both sexes, in which, by manual labor, 
MRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMB.
the students could at once promote their health and contri)bute
towards their support.   In the forests of Northlerni Ohio a
site had been found for the attempt, and the ec.rnest and large  hearted nien who had projected the movement commeni ced
their work, naming both -the institution and the town, of
which it was to be the beginniong and life, fiom  Oberlin, the
Chiristian pastor and teacher,,and civilizer of the rtde peas antry of the Ban de la Roche, in Switzerlanld.  In this novel
movement, started in the interests of literature, religion, and
humanity, the young physician was now invited to take part;
and, after a consultation with MIiss Parker, they mutually and
heartily accepted the post.  Resigning the school she had just
opened in Cainajolharie, New York, into other hands, Miss Par ker was married ia the spring of 1834; and with her husband
entered at once upon the work  which has never yet beenl
intermitted.   For thirty-four years they have wvrought to gethler on that field, apparently so forbidding,- the husband
rising step by step in scholarship and professional popularity,
until now, and the wife to a post of responsibility and usefulness, second, perhaps, to none in the country, which
woman has )een called to fill.  They have lived to see the
old forest give way to an institution which more than alny
other in the West has made itself a power among the noblest
movements of the age.
On connect;ing herself with the young college, Mrs. Dascomb was appointed the principal of the ladies' department.
-Icr strengthl then proving unequal to the burdent, at the end
of the y,ear she resitgned, not, however, without hlaving made
fuill proof of her many admirable qualifications for the post.
She was immediately transferred to the Ladies' Board of
\Ianagers, where, for years, her good sense was of incalculable service to the board.  In 1852 she was urged to resume
the postiof principal of the ladies' department, and again,
tl-ough hesitatingly, she accepted the charge.  In this post
291 
292    EMINENT WOMEN OF TIHE AGE.
she has remained until n()w.  Her office, calliing as it dcloes
for large executive and administrative ability, has been most
worthily and acceptably filled.  The trustees of the college
are unanimous in their admiration of her signal success. They
cheerfully accept her counsel, in all matters relating to her
department, as law; and they never find her counsels or her
plans to faiil.  Under her judicious nmalnagement, and, owing
to this perhaps as much as to any one agency, the college at
Oberlin has practically shown the safety and wisdom of educatimg, even through the college course, the two sexes together.
It has, also, proved the ability of woman to prosecute creditably all the studies of the college course, and to compete
successfully with men in any field of literature.
But precisely how much of the success at Oberlin has been
due to any one of the agencies employed, it may be difficult
to decide.  There have been in the work some of the ablest
mlen our country has produced.  Certainly, no moreoearnest
wvorkers have anywhere used to the utmost all their resources
to sustain and build up any institution of the age.  The enterprise, itself, was hopeless to any but a strong fitith aind
resolute heart.  And they who took the work in hand worked
on together with good heart and hope.  Its three presidents
\Iahan, Finney, and Fairchild -have all done the wvork of
strong and fearless men.  Their associates in the Faculty, of
their own sex, have worked with them, under the glow and
inspiration of the same enthusiasm.  Nor could the instittition have beei established and sustained without such agency.
WVith it, Oberlin has attained a good rank among the literary
institutions of the land.
But for the successful attainment of its speciail aim, that of
the co-education of the two sexes, even through the enitire
college course, another style of educational  ag,ency was
needed.  If young women were to be admitted anclarried
through the course, the presence of woman would be indis
6 
-lRRS. MARIANNE P. DASCOMA{B.
pensable in the faculty.  I1er intelligence allnd tact, llher sympathly and taste, and her quick sense of social propirieties
would all be a necessity.  Her control and authority would
reach and regulate, as man's could not, these new college
relations.
Especially also, was the aid of woman needed, to secure
another leading idea of the Oberlin rovement.  The founders
wished to organize a community, as well as estal)lish a college, -  a community in thorough sympathy with their own
Christian work.  The town itself was to be the home for
their college, and its families were to feel themselves, ill
some sort, identified wvith the aims and interests of the college.  It must be a community in which young men and
women could be Clhristiaily educated, and from whose nlurture they should be thoroighly prepared to go forth to their
own  earnestly.aggressive Christian work.   But to aid in
organizing such a community, the presence and culture and
grace of Christian women would be requisite.
'\ost fortluna'te, was it, then, that, when such a movement
was projected, this needed agency was  not wanlting.  To
make no mention of other giftedcl Christian women, who were
counted worthy to engage in such a work, -though such
names as those of IMrs. Shipherd, and Mahlan, and Finney,
and Cowles, may well claim no small share in this noble
enterprise, -it was peculiarly providential that such a woman
as MArs. Dascomb was tlhen ready, both in literary attainment,
and in every most nleeded social quality, to give herself to
the work.  And it is not sayilig too much that she was ready
also for the consecration.  Without reservation she entered
the service, which, with no abatement of zeal, she has pursued and lhonored until now.
Nor is it claiming too much to say that her reward has
beein great.  Of about five hundred young ladies who are
aniiual'y under her instruction or influence, very few can be
293 
294   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
found who do not regard her with a feeling akin to filial
affection.  Of the thousands who have gone out from Ol)erlin,
of both sexes, we have but one uniform testimony to the
high esteem with which they re,gard her.  Iher associates in
the work tell us the same story of their dependence upon
her, and their great indebtedness to her influence.
Nor is it difficult to detect the secret of her power. It
lies both in her temperament and character.  She is lifeful
and cheerfiul.  She shows good sense and judgment.  She
abounds inll hopefulness, which gives her confidence and courage.  She has no mnisgivings lest duty should prove inexpedient; and so her faith in the results of duty never fails
her.  She is self-sacirificing, -  doing cheerfully for others,
what she would gladly be excused firom doingy on her own
account.  She is conscientious, anxious only to do the right
thing herself, and solicitous only to aid others in seeing what is
right, and doing it.  One of the most sensitively (gentle of women, she has still the firmest strength of will, holding herself
and hlolding others, as by inevitable law, to truth and duty. She
could not compromise principle, though a world were to be
won.  With her the first question and the last is, not, Will it
pay? not, Is it fashionable? not, Will it please the world?
but, Is it right?  She has the courage to face sneers and
ldangler even, if in the path of duty.  In the day when to
befi'iend a fugitive negro was to arouse a storm of popular
rag,e and vengeance, she never hesitated to recognize the
fugitive's claim.  She acknowledged no misnamed patriotism,
which required her to prove faithless to the plain call of
humanity. Higher than all human enactments, she held and
holds the claims and the law of the only God.
And so, by her gentle and patient kindness; by her fervent zeal in duty; by her disinterested love and service for
others; by her uncomrnpromisiIng devotion to what is true and
iright, -she has made for herself a place of power in the com 
MRS MARIANNE P. DASCOMB.
munity where she has lived, and especially ill the hearts and
minds she has aided in educatiing for the service of the church
and world.  And still, as for so many years, she is prosectiting the same good work, with the same success.  Without
denying, the claims of her own famnily and home, -  in which she
has reared to womanhood the two adopted, the only children
given to her to rear, -she is still laboriously employed in the
duties of her great charge at the college. In her daily work
of personal interview and consultation with pupils and teachers, and the matrons of the homes in which the pupils reside;
in assigning daily exercises and studies; in fitmiliar lectures
to the young ladies on all topics, outside of the general course
of instruction in the classes, on which they need instruction
and advice,-  MIrs. Dascomb is still adding to the reputation
she has already won, as a woman of emiinent ability and service. But, pre-eminently, her best record is yet to be written. It must be traced in the career of the many gifted
young women  whom  she has aided ill fitting for service,
good and great, like her  own.   Their success,  when its
causes are fully known, will add new lustre to the crown,
which she now so unconsciously wears.
295 
296    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
BY REV. E. P. PARKER.
HARRIET BEECHER, daughter of Rev. Lyman Beecher,
D.D., was born in the town of Litchfield, ill the State of
Connecticut, on the 14th day of June, in the year of our
Lord 1812.  Her father, than whom no man of his generation is more reverently and affectionately remembered,
was one of the sturdiest and grandest men that New England
has produced.  Among American divines his position as a
theologian was one of distinction, and as a pulpit orator he
stood full abreast with the most eloquent. There have been
no more powerful preachers in our country than he.
In the year 1799 he married Roxana Foote, whose father,
Eli Foote, was a genial and cultivated man, and, notwithstanding he was a royalist and churchman, was universally
respected and honored.  She was also the grand-daughter
of General Ward, who  served under Washling,ton in the
Revolutionary war.   This union was blessed with eight
children: - Catharine, William, Edward, Mary, George,
Harriet, Henry Ward, and Charles.  Dr. Beecher had sworn
never to marry a weak woman; nor, in marrying Roxana
Foote, did he forswear himself. Ill one of the Mayflower
sketches, in the character of Aunt Mary, and later, in a letter
contributed to the "Autobiography of Lyman Beecher"
(vol. I., page 301), Mrs. Stowe  herself describes  her 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
mother.  She was a woman of extraordinary talents, rare
culture, fine taste, sweet and  gentle temper;  fill of the
Holy Ghost and of that power which comes not with observationi, but whose exercise is alike unconscious and irresistible.
She died when Harriet was not quite four years old, but
her memory and example had more influence in moulding
her falmily, in deterring from evil and exciting to good, than
the living presence of many mothers."
Slrs. Stowe relates that when, in her eighthl year, she lay
dangeroutsly ill of scarlet fever, she was awakened one
evening just at sunset by-the voice of her father praying, at
her bedside, and heard him speaking of "her blessed mother,
who is a saint in heaven!"  The passage in Uncele Tom,
where St. Clair describes his mother's influence, is simply a
reproduction of the influence of Mrs. Stowe's own mother, as
it had always been in her famnily.
All who have read the "Miinister's Wooing " must remember
the beautiful letter which Mary wrote to the Doctor. That
letter is one which, years before, Mrs. Beecher had written,
and was copied by Mrs..Stowe into the pages of her story.
Immediately after her mother's death, Harriet was taken to
live with her mother's sister, in whose well-ordered house the
little girl found a happy home, the tenderest care, and the
benefits of an unusually wholesome moral discipline and intellectual companionship.  Her mother had been a quiet but
devout churchwoman who, at her marriage with Dr. Beecher,
conformed herself to the simpler manners of the Co(ngregational  churches, and bent her steps to the ways in which her
husband walked, but not without cherishing an ineradicable
love of the better way in which her faithers walked and worshipped.  Somnething, of this feeling Harriet may have inherited. IHaving had such a mother, she found herself, in the
circle of her mother's relatives, surrounded by those who
.297 
298   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
believed in the Church, and walked after its ordinances only,
with all their hearts.  Nor is it iunlikelythat these facts furnish a sufficient explanation of that preferelice for the mode
of divine worship which obtains in the Episcopalian Church,
which, in these later years, Mrs. Stowe has publicly maui
fested.
Of her pleasant life in the farm-house at Nutplailns; of
the good old grandma with bright white hair, who took her the little motherless - into her arms, and held her close, and
wept over her; who read the evening service, after supper,
from a great prayer-book, with such impressiveness as touched
the child's heart with a feeling of its intrinsic simplicity and
beauty which she never outgrew; and who also, ill the sincerity of her toryism, often read over, with trembling voice,
the old prayers for king, queen, and royal family, grieving
that they should have been omitted in all the churches; of
her energetic, precise, smart, orderly Aunt Harriet, who was
one of the women who contrive to bring all their plans to
pass and to have their ways perfectly, - a splendid specimen
of the best kind of a genuine Yankee woman, believing in
the Church with a faith in which disdain of all MIeeting-house
religion was so far mingled that, when on a visit to Litchfield,
she could not bring herself to listen to Dr. Beecher, of whom
she was very proud and fond, but must needs go to Church,
where all things were "done decently and in order," -who
did more than encourage little Harriet to "move gently, to
speak softly and prettily, to say'yes, ma'am' and'no,
ma'am,"' to keep her clothes clean, and knit and sew at
regular hours, to go to Church on Sundays and make all the
responses, and come home and be thoroughly drilled in the
catechism; of her Uncle  George who wvas a great reader,
and full of poetry, and had Burns and Scott at his tongue's
end, and whose recitations of Scott's ballads were tile first
poems she ever heard; of the house stored with all manner 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
of family relics, and also with all manner of strange and
wonderful thilngs brought by a sea-fitring uncle, from the
uttermost parts of the earth, - supplied moreover with whliat
were exceedingly rare things in those days, a well-selected
library, and a portfolio of fine engravings, -of all these
things Mrs. Stowe tells us in one of her pleasantest letters,
and adds, "The little white farm-house under the hill was a
Paradise to us, and the sight of its chimneys after a day's
ride was like a vision of Eden!"
Nearly two years passed by, and Harriet, now ag,ain in her
fither's house, wonders at "a beautiful lady, very fair, with
bright-blue eyes, and soft auburn hair," who comes into the
nursery where she with her younger'brothers are in bed, and
kisses them, and tells them she loves them and will be their
mother.  This fair stralnger was Dr. Beecher's second wife,
Harriet Porter, of Portland, Maine; and of little Harriet she
writes to her friends very handsomely: "Harriet and Henlry
.... are as lovely children as I ever saw, amiable, affectionate, and very bright."  She speaks also of "the great familiarity
and great respect subsisting between parent and childrlen," and
of the household as " one of great cheerfulness and comfort."
"Our domestic worship is very delightful.  We sing a good
deal, and have reading aloud as much as we can. It seems
the highest happiness of the children to have a reading circle."
These observations afford us glimpses of that inner domestic
life amid whose healthful and qutickening influences Mrs.
Stowe's child-life developed itself.  Her sister Catharine
writes of her when she was five years of age: Itarriet is a
very good girl. She has been to school all this summer, and
has learned to read very fluently.  She has committed to
memory twenty-seven hymns and two long chapters in the
Bible. She has a remarkably retentive memory, and will
make a good scholar." She very early manifested a great
eagerness for books, and "read  everything she could lay
299 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
hands on."  eI-Ir young mind drank e.agerly at every available
literary spring, and such was the inspiration-of Dr. Beechler's
presence among his children, that they daily lived  and
breathed in a bracing intellectual atmosphere, and their wits
were kept constantly in exercise.
One incident from Mrs. Stowe's "Early Remenmbrances"
of Litchfield well illustrates his "inspiring talent," and not
only that, but the unusual degree of intellectual activity
which characterized the whole domestic life. One of the
famous occasions in the course of the year was the applecuttingr season, in the autumn, when a barrel of cider applesauce had to be made.  "The work was done ill the kitchen,
-all immense brass kettle hangOing over the deep fireplace, a bright fire blazing and snapping, and all hands,
children and servants, employed on the full baskets of apples
and quinces which stood around.  I have the image of my
father still, as he sat working the apple-peeler.    Come,
George,' he said,'I'll tell you what we'll do to make the
evening go off. You and I'll take turns, and see who'll tell
the most out of Scott's novels'!  And so they took them,
novel by novel, reciting scenes and incidents, which kept the
eyes of the children wide open, and made the work  go on
without flagg,,ing."  Dr. Beecher was very fond, too, of setting
all manner of discussions on foot, into which he would draw
the children, arguing with them, correcting them in their
logical slips, and so not only putting them in the way  of
acquiring new knowledge, but what was far better, arolisilng
their minds, sharpening their wits, and teaching, them lhowv to
think and reason.  Allusion has been made to  HIarriiet's
eagerness to read.  But the light literature which, in our days,
is to be found in such abundance even in parsonages, to say
nothing, of Sunday-school libraries, was wanting in her father's
library, and she was hardly ready to satisfy her hunger as
one young lady Qf our acquaintance once attempted to do, by
300 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
beginning at one end of the library and reading it throdgh,
book by book.  She had found, aindfor a while had revelled
in, a copy of the "Arabian Nights;" and afterward, ill her
desperate search among sermons, tracts, treatises, and essays,
she turned up a dissertation or commentary on Solomon's
Song,, which she read with avidity, "because it told about the
same sort of things she had read of in the " Arabian Nights."
She was again rewarded for her several hours' toil in what she
calls "a weltering ocean of pamphlets," by bringing to light
a fragment of "Don Quixote," which seemed to her like an
enchanted island rising out of an ocean of mud"!
This was the time when the names of Scott, Byron, Moore,
and Irving were comparatively new, and yet not so new as
not to be in the mouths of all intelligent people.  The Salmagundi papers were recent publications.  Byron had not quite
finished his course. Scott had written his best poems, and the
" Lay of the Last Minstrel," and "Marmion," were familiar to
people of intelligence, the world over; but the "Tales of my
Landlord," and  Ivanhoe," had just made their appearance.
Now the novel, in those days, was regarded, by all pious people
at least, as an unclean thing.  It was not tolerated, and, indeed, it had become really unclean and intolerable in the
hands of the previous generation of writers of fiction.
Great was the joy in that household when an exception was
madle to the prohibitory law under which all works of fiction
were excluded from well-ordered households, as only so much
trash and abomination, and Dr. Beecher said, "George, you
may read Scott's novels. I have always dclisapproved of
novels as trash, but in these are real genius and real culture,
and you may read them"! This generous license was improved, for in one summer  Harriet and  George  " went
through'Ivanhoe' seven times," so that they could recite
several of the scenes from beginning to end! In the next
house to the one in which Dr. Beecher lived, and but a few
301 
302   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
steps distant, dwelt "Aunt Esther," - a woman  of strong
mind, ready wit, and  large information,  to whose  keen
criticism Dr. Beecher frequently submitted his sermons and
articles, and whose geniality and inexhaustible fund of enter tailliol ilnformation made her room a favorite resort of the
children.  From her halnds IHarriet one day received a volume
of Byron's poems contaillning the  "Corsair."  This she read
with wonder and delight, and thenceforth listened eagerly
to whatever was said in the house concerniing Byron.  Not
long after, she heard her father say sorrowfully, "Byron is
dead, -gone"  "I remember," she says, "taking my basket
for strawberries that afternoon, and going over to a straw berry field on Chestnut Ijill.  But I was too dispirited to do
anything;  so I lay down  among  the daisies, and looked
up into the blue sky, and thought of that great eternity into
which Byron had entered, and wondered how it migh,lt be
with his soul"!  Ilarriet was then eleven years old, but was
sufficiently precocious to appreciate the genius that  was
exhibited in Byron's passionate poetry, and to share in the
enthusiasm which that genius has everywhere created.
Tot only iii her father's house, and in the fitmily circle, but
in the society and schools of Litchfield as well, was her mind
enriched and stimulated to independent thoughlt.  The town
of Litchfield was celebrated in those days for the unusual
number of cultivated, scholarly, and professional men who
resided there, and for the hig,h literary character of its society.
"A delightful village, on a fruitful hill, richly endowed with
schools both professional and scientific, with its vencrable
governors and judges, with its learned lawyers, and senators,
and representatives both in the national and state departmenits, and with a population cnlilghtened and respectable,
Litchfield," says MIrs. Stowe,   was now in its glory."
The high reputation of Miss Pierce's school for young,
ladies brougbt a goodly number of fair women into the town, 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
while the excellent law-school of Judge Reeve  attracted
thither brave young men from all quarters.
Miss Catharine Beecher relates that when Mrs. Stowe was
at Paris, she was repeatedly visited ly an aged French gentleman of distinction, who in youth had spent some years in
L itchfield as a studrit at the law school, and, in his conversationis with Mrs. St ewe, he frequently referred to, and dwelt
with entlhusiasm lipon, the society of Litchfield, which he
declared was the most charming ill the world.  In such a
home, and in such a society, Harriet Beecher passed the first
twelve years of her life.  She was a pupil in the school
taught by Miss Pierce and Mr. Brace.   Of Mr. Brace, Mrs.
Stowe speaks in terms of the hi,ghest praise, as a gentleman
of wide illformation, well-read in the English classics, of
sintgular conversational powers, and a most  stimulating and
inspiring instructor."  Her own simpler lessons were  neglected and forgotten as she sat listening intently, hour after
hour, to the recitations of the older classes, and to the conversations of Mr. Brace  with them, in moral philosophy,
rhetoric, anld  history.   In this school particular attention
was given to the writing of compositions.   An  ambition
was kindled in the minds of the scholars to excel in this
exercise.
Harriet was but nine y-ars old,  when, roused by Mr.
Brace's inspiration, she volunteered to write a con)mposition
every week.  The theme for the first weekl was sufficiently
formidable, -The Difference between the Nitural and the
MIoral Sublime.  But  so great was the interest  which the
preparatory discussions had awakened in her mind, tlhat she
found herself in labor with the subject, felt sure that she had
some  clear distinctions in mind, and, altlhoughtil she could
hardly write legibly or spell correctly, I)rouglt foirthl her first
composition upon that question.  Persevering  in hcer efforts,
Bhe was soon publicly commended for her progress. and twu
.'D" 0 3 
304    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
years later received the honor of an appointment to be one
of the writers at the annual exhibition of the school.  On
that distinguished occasion she argued the negative of the
following question: Can the Immortality of the Soul be
proved by the Light of Nature?  We may smile at the idea
of an argument on such a topic by a girl i her twelfth year,
but she shall describe the scene of her first public triumph:
"I remember the scene at that exhibition, - to me so
eventful. The hall was crowded with the literati of Litchfield.  Before them all our compositions were read aloud.
WVhen mine was read, I noticed that father, who was sitting
on high by Mr. Brace, brilghtened and looked interested;
and, at the close, I heard him say,' Who wrote that composition?''Your daughter, sir!' was the answer.  It was
the proudest moment of my life."
The conditions and circumstances of Mrs. Stowe's early
life, the scenes and surroundings of her childhood, and the
nature of that domestic and social life in which her own life
was rooted, and from which some, at least, of its peculiar
qualities must have been derived, deserve a much more carefill and complete representation than the limits of this sketch
will allowv; for they reveal where and how the solid fouildations of her future fame were laid, and by what subtile but
potent influences her intellectual powers were quickened, her
character moulded, and her whole history happily predetermined in its course of development.
At about twelve years of age, Harriet went to Ilaitford,
where her sister Catharine had opened a school for yoing
ladies. She was one of a brilliant class which numbered
among its members several ladies whose names are well and
widely known.  She was known as an absent-minded, introspective, reticent, and somewhat moody young lady, odd in 
HIARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
her manners and habits, but a fine scholar, a great reader,
and exceedingly clever in her compositions,  vwhethler of
poetry or of prose.  Even then she displayed something of
that fondness and aptitude for delineating the peculiarities
of New Englan-d manners and character, for which, in later
years, both she and her brother Henry Ward have been distinguished.  Children of New  England, born and reared
under its clearest skies, and amid its loveliest scenes, perfectly famili.tr with every phase of its social life, full of its
native  spirit of independence,-  whose home, also,  and
family relations were such as were sufficient to inspire them
with an ardent enthusiasm for the land of their fathers, they
have revelled in charming, reminiscences and descriptions of
it; and have never written more graphically, and as if under
a genuine inspiration, than in those pages of the "Mayflower," of "The Minister's Wooing,," of "The Pearl of Orr's
Island," and of "Norwood," where they have led their readers to and fro over its peaceful hills, and among its peculiar
people of long ago.
For a season harriet was an associate teacher ill the Hartford Seminary; but, on the failure of Miss Beecher's health,
both she and her sister sought rest in their father's house,
which, since the year 1832, had been located in the environs
of Cincinnati. Here, also, after a brief respite, they opened
a school, of which - and particularly of the religious influence of which, and of a Bible class in Old Testament history
which Harriet Beecher conducted- we have heard one of
the pupils speak in terms of high praise.
MIiss Beecher at length gave herself up to the organization
of larger educational enterprises, -to the furtherance of
which her whole life has been nobly devoted. And on the 5th
day of January, in the year 1836, Harriet married Professor
Calvin E. Stowe, a man of learning and distinction, and, at
20
305
I 
306    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
that time, Professor of Biblical Literature in Lane  Theological Seminary.
For several years previous to her marriage, however, Mrs.
Stowe had occasionally made her appearance, both in private
circles and in the periodical literature of the day, as a writer
of no little promise. Some of her productions of that period
have not yet passed out of public notice.
It now becomes necessary to refer to certain literary associations into which  Mrs. Stowe was happily drawn, and
which had no little influence in awakening in her a consciousness of her powers, and filrnished her with opportunities, motives, and encouragements to make trial of those
powers. Out of the good fellowship which prevailed among
many of the literary men and women of that vicinity,- a
fellowship which was fostered by the hospitality of several
gentlemen of culture and property,- a remarkable series of
social and literary reunions were established under the name
of the " Semicolon Club."   At the meetings of the club,
which were under just enough of regulation to prevent confusion and dissipation of time, without  hindering perfect
freedom of discussion dnd intercourse, essays, sketches,
reviews, stories, and poems were read, discussions and conversations were carried on, and music came in to enliven and
diversify the exercises.
Many of those who were accustomed to participate in these
reunions have since distinguished themselves in their respective vocations. Among these we may mention Judge
Hall, editor of the " Western Monthly Magazine," and a critic
of no little reputation;  Miss Catharine Beecher, and her
sister Harriet;  Prof. IHentz and his wife, Caroline Lee
Hentz, a novelist of popularity, and a woman of distingutished grace; E. P. Crauch, whose exquisite humor flowed
from either pen or pencil with equal facility; James I1. Perkins, a man of extraordinary talents; Col. E. D. Mansfield; 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
Prof. J. W. Ward;  Charles W. Elliot, the New England
historian; Daniel Drake, a medical professor and author of
celebrity; William Greene;  three Misses Blackwell, two
of whom have gained distinction as physicians; Prof. C. E.
Stowe, widely known, both in Europe and America, as a
scholar and author; and Professor, and subsequently MajorGeneral 0. M. Mitchell, whom the nation remembers as one
of its most accomplished scientific men, and mourns as one
of its noblest martyrs in the cause of liberty.
In this brilliant circle Mrs. Stowe's genius soon began to
shine conspicuously.  Some of her contril)utions to these
reunions were received with unaffected wonder and delight.
The portraiture of old Father Mills, of Torringford, Conn.,
which appears in the "Mayflower" under the title of " Father
Morris," was greeted with uproarious applause.  But her
"Uncle Tim," written in 1834 for the "Semicolon Cltub,"
and read at one of its sessions, made the deepest impression.
And this same sketch, which is still one of the most charming
and characteristic productions of her pen, published first in
Judge Hall's Magazine, and afterward in the "MIayflower,"
first attracted public attention to her as a writer of great
versatility and promise.
In this "Semicolon Club" the woman of genius seems to
have first become really conscious of her powers; in it she
received also recognition, sympathy, and an impulse, and-l)y
it found a way for herself out beyond the circle of private
fellowships into the wider circles of the great world.  Mieanwhile she was an occasional contributor to the AVestern
Magazine, to Godey's Magazine,  and perchance. to other
periodicals.  And not loing after her mairi.,ge the "MIay
flower" was published, which contained, beside some of the
best of her "Semicolon" papers, several new sketches of
New England life and character.   Thenceforward her life
flowed on in purely domestic channels for several years, with
307 
308    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
out puttiing forth any decided signs of its future fruitfilness.
And now we are brought to the threshold of that great arena
on which her mightiest works were done, and her great triumph was achieved, while the whole world looked onl andl
applauded. Uneventful as the next few years of her life
seemed then to be, they were years of peculiar trial and dcliscipline, wherein God himself was secretly preparing and furnishing her for the fulfilment of his great purposes.
She had always felt a deep interest in the slaves, and, whenever opportunities occurred, had always manifested a practical
benevolence towards them.  By journeys into the adljoining
State of K~entuckly, by visits at the homes of her pupils from
that State, she had made herself perfectly familiar with the
different aspects of plantation life. For years she had enjoyed
and improved excellent opportunities of studyiing the negro
character, and also the operations of the slavery system. Fearfuil examples of the evils and miseries, of the unspeakable
wrongs and crimes and shames of slavery, were ever and anon
laid at her very door.  She was at the very point where the
great anti-slavery conflict rag,ed most fiercely, -in the midst
of the border warfare of abolitionism.  Fugitive slaves were
frequently concealed in her house.  Children of filgitives
were harbored and instructed there.  Hard by was the AValnut Hills under-ground railroad, of which her husband had
the credit of being an active director.  One day ler two little children were going to the barn to play.  The elder, to
figihten his sister into some submission, cried, "The black
man will catch you!" whereupon four burly fugitives, who
were resting and hiding in the hay till nighltfill, thinking
themselves discovered, started up and ran away, to the inlfinite terror of both children. Sometimes quite a family would
be secreted in the house, and the great difficulty, says Prof.
Stowe, "was to keep the little pickaninnies from sticking 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
their heads out of the windows, and so betrayilng their
retreat."
Often at dead of night the rattle of wagonls bearing escaped
slaves onward to the land of promise, and afterwards the
ominous tramp of hard-ridden horses were heard, telling of
rapid flight and hot pursuit.
The actual spiriting away from her pursuers of a poor colored girl by Mrs. Stowe's husband and her brother Charles,
who, trusting first to God, and secondly to a sagacious old
black horse, carried the fugitive away under cover of a
starless night and over a perilous road to a place of safety
in honest old Van Zandt's cabin, needed only a little disguising in the description to fit it for the pages of "Uncle
Tom."  Amid all the anti-slavery discussions and tumults,amid all the excitements and outrages and sufferings of which
she had personal knowledge, and when mob-violence threatened the safety of the roof that sheltered her, Mrs. Stowe
manifested no unusual intensity of feeling on the subject.
Amid the earnest voices that argued and described and denounced the iniquities of slavery her voice was not heard.
She was a silent but close observer of passing events.  Materials for her future work were unconsciously accumulating as
she watched, and waited, and hoped, and prayed.
The seminary in which her husband was a prominent instructor became at length the scene of a paiinful and disastrous
struggle between the two great forces of the ag,e. Conservatism triumphed, but in its blind zeal pulled down some of the
strongest columns on which the institution rested.  The seminary was seriously crippled, and, after protracted labors to
restore its prosperity, finding his health failil-g, Prof. Stowe
retired to accept a professorship in Bowdoin College, in
Brunswick, Maine, and in the year 1850 he entered upon his
duties there. Just at this time the ftigitive slave lLaw was
passed, and Mrs. Stowe was one of those whose souls were
309 
310   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
kindled with indi(gnationl at this irfiamouts piece of legislation.
In the light of that political act which converted the people
of a great and free nation into so many compulsory negrocatchers, she saw clearly that the policy of inaction was no
long,er right nor safe, and that slavery was an insatiable monster that threatened not.simply the dishonor, but the utter ruin,
of the country.  One single, definite purpose arose out of her
deep convictions, and rook possession of her mind.   The
whole system of slavery must be shown up as it really was!
This simple and all-controlling conviction was the cornerstone of  Uncle Tom's Cabin"!
Airs. Stowe herself says:
For- many years the author avoided all reading upon, and
all allusion to, the subject of slavery, considering it too p,ainful to be inquired into, and one which advancing light and
civilization would certainly live down.   But since the act of
1850, when she heard with consternation Christian and humane people actually recomimeniding the remnlding escaped
fugitives into slavery, as a duty binding on all good citizens;
when she heard, on all sides, firom kind, compassionate, and
estimable people, in the free States of the North, deliberations
and discussions as to wlat Christian duty could be on this
head, she could only think, t/ese men and Chiristians do 0not
know w/zat slavery is; and from that arose a desire to ex7tibit
it in a living, dramatic realitb "I
Mrs. Stowe had, then, a perfectly clear idea of what was
necessary to be done, and also a just appreciation of the most
effective literary instruments and the best artistic methods
for the accomplishment of the work.
But as yet there was no definite plan of proceeding,.  Indeed, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was not so much put togethei
and built up, like a house, according to a complete, pre 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
existent desilgn, as developed, like a tree, from one high, holy,
and controlling idea.
Topsy's solution of the problem of her own personal existence is the most satisfactory explanation of the production
of this story.  It grew!  While as yet the form and plan of
the work lay undeveloped in her mind, she made a beginning,
which, instead of a beginning, was a stroke at the vei'y heart
of her whole story.
One day, on entering his wife's room in Brunswick, Prof.
Stowe saw several sheets of paper lying loosely here and
there, which were covered with her hanldwriting.  Ile took
them up in curiosity and read them. The death of Uncle
Toil was what he read.  That was first written, and it was
all that had then been written.  "-You can make sonmething
out of this," said he. "I mean to do so," was the reply.
Soon after, Mr. Bailey, who was then publishing an antislavery paper in Washington, solicited Mrs. Stowe to write a
series of articles for its columns.
The way was open, and she was ready, and, being called
of God, by faith she went forth, not knlowiing whither she
went! Her ULzcle Tome  should have a history, of which his
death-scene should be the logical consequence and culminationl. As she mlused the fire burned.  The true starting-point
was readily found, and gradually a most felicitous story-form
was conceived, in which a picture of slavery as it is mighlt be
exhibited, -a web was laid, into which she mighlt weave,
with threads of gold and silver and purple, her brave designs.
"Uncle Tom" began to be published in the " National Era,"
as a serial, in the summer of 1851, and was continued from
week to week until its conclusion in March, 1852.
It was not a product of leisure hours. She
"Wrought with a sad sincerity,"
and under most grievous burdens and disadvantages. Her
311 
312   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
health was delicate.  Her cares were great.  In chlarg,e of a
large family, and compelled by the sternest of all necessities
to make tlhe most of very little and poor help in her house.
hold labors, much of this wonderful book was actually writ ten by Mrs. S,towe, as she sat, with her portfolio uipon her
knee,  5y the kitchen fire, in moments snatched fiom her
domestic cares.  We may be pardoned for s.lyilig that if the
cuisine was half as well managed as the compositioln, those
who sat at MAirs. Stowe's table, as well as those other inlU minerable ones who have feasted upon the fruits of her literary
toil, were fortunate indeed.  "The  book," as Prof. Stowe
finely says, "was written in sorrow, in sadness, and obscurity, with no expectation of reward save in the )prayers of the
poor, and with a heart almost broken in view of the suffer ing,s which it described, and the still greater sufferings which
it dared not describe."
Our older readers need not to be told with what avidity
the weekly instalmnents of this serial were caught up and
devoured by the readers of the " National Era." The writer
of this article was then a little boy in one of the remoter villages of Maine, but remembers how " Uncle Tomu's Cablin" was
the theme of universal discussion, and how those in his own
home, and all throtigh the village too, who, had never before
bowed down to any idols of fiction, nor served them, were so
completely demoralized by this novel, that they not only read
it, but read it to their children; and how the papers which
contained it, after being nearly worn out in goiong through so
many hands in so many different homes, were as carefully
folded up and laid away as if the tear-stains on them were
sacred, as indeed they were.  We  were all, from the baby
upward, converted into the most earnest kind of abolitionists.
Strangely enough, however, when, after its publication in the
'"Era," Mrs. Stowe proposed its republication in book-form to
Messrs. Phillips and Sampson of Boston, the proposition was 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
respectfiully declined. That, she thought, was the end of it.
A woman's shrewdness had something to do with securing
its publication.  The wife of Mr.  Jewett, of Boston, had
read the story, and advised her husband to publish it, if possible.  It was offered to him, and he remarked to Prof. Stowe
that it would bring his wife "somethling handsome!"  On
returning home, his success and the remark of Mr. Jewett
were reported to Mrs. Stowe, who, with an eye-twinlkle, and
a tone ill which a little hope, more joy, and still more illcredulity were expressed, replied, that she hoped it would bring
her enough to purchase what she had not possessed for a lolng
time, - a new silk dress!
She was not obliged to wait long for that very desirable
article, nor to limit herself very rigidly in the gratification
of so legitimate a desire; for only a few months after its
republication, Mr. Jewett made his first settlement with Prof.
Stowe, and placed the sum of ten thousand dollars in his
hands;   " More money," says the professor, "than I had ever
seen in my life!"  Larg,e as were these first firuits, and enormous as was the sale of the book, for some reasons which do
not require to be set forth here, the enterprise was far more
remunerative to the publishers than to the author, and Mrs.
Stowe was not made rich by her story.
The popularity of the book was unbounded, and its circulation was unprecedented.  No work of fiction in the En)glishl
languag,e was ever so widely sold.  Within six months, over
one hundred and fifty thousand copies were sold in America,
and within a few years it reached a sale of nearly five hundred
thousand copies.  The first London edition was published in
May, 1852.  The next September, the pul)lishers furnished to
one house alone, ten thousand copies each day for four weeks;
making a sale of two hundred and forty thousand copies in one
month.  Before the end of the year 1852, the book had been
translated into the Spanish, Italian, French, Danish, Swedish,
313 
314    EMINENT WOMEN OF TJIE AGE.
Dutch, Flemish, German,,Polish, and Mag,yarlanguages.  Ere
long it was translated into every European lllLguage, and also
into Arabic and Armenian.  There is a bookcase in the British
Museum, filled with its various translations, editions, and versions.  Ill Italy, the " powers that be" published an edition in
which all allusionsto Christ were changed to theVirgin Mary, —
a piece of craftiness that argues better for the book than for
its mutilators.
But remarkable as was the literary popularity of the book,
its political and moral influence was hardly less so.  Said
Lord Palmerston to one from whose lips the remark was
taken as it here stands, " I have not read a novel for thirty
years; but I have read that book three times, not only for
the story, but for the statesmanship of it!"  Lord Cockburn
said, " She has dclone more for humanity than was ever before
accomplished by any siangle book of fiction." No political
pamphlet or discussion directed against the Fugitive Slave
Law could have dealt that sacred iniquity so deadly a blow
as did this book. Not only the reading, but the acting of
Uncle Tom," - and particularly the thrilling scene of Eliza's
passage of the Ohio River, - in New York, for oneo hundred
and fifty successful nights, operated mightily to awaken popular sympathy for the fugitive, and to make  negro-hunting
contemptible.  The friends of slavery instinctively felt the
danger, and arose in all their wrath and cunnilg to hinder
the operation of the power that was going forth in that book
among all people.  They ridiculed its pretensions, denied its
statements, abused the author as a malevolent caricaturist
and wilful disturber of the peace; and, reinforced by timeservers from the North, among whom many Doctors of Divinity were not ashamed to be seen, they went forth, a great
multitude, terrible with banners and eager for the labor,
armed and equipped also with brooms, and mops, and sundry
other such suitable implements, to sweep back from all our 
HARRPET BEECHER STOWaE. 
coasts the rising tide of abolitionism, to which Mrs. Stlowe's
book had given such an irresistible impulse.  Eveirywhere
there was heard the noise of endless splashingis, and an infinite confusion, but the tide had its way, - the same tide,
which, a few years later, broke over all barriers, swept over
the whole country, and washed it clean of its old defilement
and curse.  "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was the hollnored instrument
of that new and noble impulse which was given t~ public
opinion and feeling throughout all Christendom against the
infamous slavery system.  It was all indirect but most powerful cause of the great political revolution which soon after
culminated in the organization of the great anti-slavery party
of the country, at whose triumph, slavery, in the recklessness
of its wrath, and in the hatughtiness of its pride, rose up in
rebellion, only to be utterly cast down and destroyed. MIrs.
Stowe was violently assailed as the author of all anti-Christian book, and as herself an infidel disorganizer and agitator;
and even religious newspapers joined in the assault.  True,
he gospel brought not peace but a sword, because it was the
oldl Gospel of Jesus Christ!  She was an agitator, as are the
great winds that blow all abroad, and give us a pure atmosphere to breathe; -  as every power is, whether it be of earth
or of heaven.  But she was an agitator, not like the woman of
heathen fable, who flung the apple of discord down into an harmonious company, so wantonly provoking strife; but like that
other woman of Christian parable, who took a little leaven iand
hid it in three measures of meal until the whole was leavened.
Aside from its political influence, "Uncle Tom" was a mighty
power in the world as a witness for Christ, and was no less a
contribution to the cause of Christianity than to the cause of
emancipation and to American literature.  One peculiarity
of it is, that the inevitable pair of lovers, the history of whose
crooked love-courses forms the staple of most novel writing,
are hardly to be found in it. It is a picture of social life, in
31 ma' 
.316   EMINENT WOMIIEN OF'HE AGE.
which the development of individual fortunes and thle history
of personal relations are included, but subordinated.
Again, it conftltedl the oft-repeated caltumniy, that none but
infidels, and lawless, godless people, were abolitionists.  On
every page of " VIncle Tom," there are the breathingis of a tender, earnest piety, and the manifestations of an ardent loyalty
to the Christian faith.  What wonderful use of the Scriptures
is made in it!  Mrs. Stowe's quiver is fulll of arrows, drawn
from the word of God, not one of which fiils her.   Not only
with the facility of perfect acquaintance, but with equal felicity and legitimacy, she quotes and applies the Scriptures to
prove, or illustrate, or emphasize her positions.  In Paris,
the reading of " Uncle Tom" created a great demand among- the
people for Bibles; and purchasers eag,erly inquired if they
were buying the real Bible-  LSTcle 7b'oii's Bible!  The same
result was produced in Belgium, and elsewhere.  Could the
most eloquent preacher do better than this?  What more
triumphant vindication of its Christian character and influence
could the book have than these ftcts furnish?
It was a perfectly natural, thoroughly honest, truly religious
story, with nothing unwholesome in its marvellous fitscinations,
but contrariwise, fairly thlrobbing in every part with a genuine
Christian feeling.  No wonder that ministers, and deacons,
and quiet Quakers too, and all the godly folk who had always
been accustomed to frown with holy horror upon novels, did
unbend themselves to read. and diligently to  circulatte the
words  of this woman  whom  the Lord had so evidently
anointed to "preach deliverance unto the captives, to set at
lib)erty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year
of the Lord." 
To search out the causes of this remarkable literary success
would take us too far, in several directions, from the main
road in which this sketch must travel.  To meet a great popular necessity, to serve the cause of truth and humanity in a 
HIIARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
time when good men's minds were darkened, and when the
powers of evil were coming ill upon the nation like at flood,
a story was written.
The writer thoroughly understood her subject; was perfect mIaster of the literary instruments she employed; was a
Christian woman of genius, and not only brought all the
powers of a splendid intelle(t to the task, but poured out her
whole heart in the work.  This book was written, as we have
said, "in sorrow, ill sadness, in obscurity, and with the htea?r
al2ost b67oken in view of the sufferings it describes!"  Here,
surely, is one secret of its power.   David long ag(o revealed
it.  "Ile that goeth forth, weepilig,, bearing precious seed,
shall doubtless return again with songs, blringil)g his sheaves
with him."  So she went forth, and so returned.
Charles Dickens said, " A noble book w?ith a noble purpose!"
In "Uncle Tom" we have a charming story, and an unanswerable argument.  And the artistic idea, and the moral purpose
are coordinately developed  and finally fulfilled in perfect
harmony.
With no other theme, even had it been treated with eqlal
ability, would Mrs. Stowe have attained equal success.   On
the other hand, the subject of slavery could never have comminded the attention of the world as this book has done, had
it been treated in somne undramatic miethod and withl less
artistic skill.  There is a tremendous moremeit (argumenet is
too cold a word) in the book which, to one who only suffers
himself to be once caught in it, is perfectly flscinalting and
irresistible.  And such is the consummate art by which this
movement is set on foot, and guided, and led on, that all the
while one is being swept along by it, whether or no, his
keenest interest is awakened in every change of scene and
circumstance, and in every one of the many persons with
whom  he is made acquaintedl.  Great statesmen like  Mr.
Seward and Mr. Sumner had argued the question of slavery.
~
317
0 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Ablle divines had given the testimony of the Scriptures upon
it.  Eloquent platform orators, and vigorous writers had discussed all its aspects and relations.  And still a mist of romance, and an atmosphere of sanctity, or at least of privilege, enveloped and concealed its real features.  Mrs. Stowe
treated the subject, not as a question of law, or of logic, or
of political economy, or of biblical interpretation, but as a
simple question of humanity; not as an "abstract theory of
social relations, but as a concrete reality of human life."
She does not tell, but shows us what it is. She does not
analyze, or demonstrate, or describe, but, by a skilful manner of indirection, takes us over the plantation, into the
master's house, into the slave's cabin, into the fields,through the whole Southern country in fact,-  and shows us
not only the worst but the best phases of the slavery system,
and allows us to see it as it really is.  And all the while the
power of her own intense sympathy for the oppressed millions
whose cause she pleads, is felt throbbinig in every line of the
narrative.
In the year 1852, Mrs. Stowe took up her residence in
Andover, Massachusetts, her husband having already accepted
a call to the Professorship of Sacred Literature in the Thleological Seminary there located.  Soon after she published the
"Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin," wherein the accuracy of the
statements, and the substantial truth of the representations
she had made in her recent story, were fully vindicated.
For a long while her health had been dclelicate, but now it
was very seriously impaired.  Her severe toil and the great
excitement under which her labor had been performed had
exhausted her strength, and she was almost prostrated.  This
fact determined her to accept the very urgent and flattering
invitations she had received, from various parts of England
and Scotland, to cross the sea and visit the mother country;
a 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
ansd, accordingly, she embarked with her husband, her
brother, and one or two personal friends, and arrived in
Liverpool on the 11th day of April.  She was everywhere
welcomed  with surprising enthusiasm and cordiality.  Great
assemblies gathered about her, at almost every step in her
journey, to do her honor.  One and the same feeling was
everywhere expressed.  The samne enthusiasm pervaded all
ranks of society.  On the third day after her arrival in England, at a public meeting in Liverpool, the chairman, in the
name of the associated ladies of Liverpool, presented Mrs.
Stowe with a most signal testimonial of the esteem in which
she was universally held, both as a woman of genius who had
written a story of world-wide renown, and as an instrument
in the hands of God of arousing the slumbering sympathies
of England in behalf of the suffering slave.  Great public
meeting,s were held. in Glasg,ow, in Edinlburgh, in Aberdeen,
and in Dundee; there were receptions, and dinners, and
addresses, and scarcely an end to the public manifestations
of affectionate enthusiasm towards her.
Perhaps the general feeling that prompted and found expression in all these outward demonstrations may be most
satisfactorily described by a few extracts from an address
wlhich was presented to Mrs. Stowe at a public meeting in
Dundee, by Mr. Gilfillan, in behalf of the Ladies' AntiSlavery Association: —
"We beg permission to lay before you the expressions of
a gratitude and an enthusiasm in some measure commensurate with -your transcendent literary merit and moral worth.
Wie congratulate you on the success of the chef-d'euvre of
your genius, -a success altogether unparalleled in the history of literature.  We  congratulate you in having, in that
tale, supported with matchless eloquence and pathos  the
cause of the crushed, the forgotten, and the injured.  We
319 
320     EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
recognize, too, with delirlght, the spirit of enli,ghltened and
evangelical piety which breathes through your work,  and
serves to confute the calumny that none but infidels are in.
terested in the cause of abolition."
These three points were made and emphasized in almost
every speech or address that was offered in her honor. She
had given the world a most charming and wonderful work of
fiction.  She had shot, with her own tender hand, the arrow
that had pierced the joints of the armor wherewith the system
of slavery was clad, and had given the monstrous evil a mortal wound.  She had furnished, in her "Uncele Tom,"  "one
of the most beautiful embodiments of the Christi(an  relig,ion
that was ever presented to the world." And if these last
words, which were uttered by no other than the well-known
Rev. John Agell James, seem extrava(rant praise, we have
only to remind the reader that the celebrated critic, HIeinrich
Heine, whom no one can suspect of partiality in such a matter, after describing his gropings and flounderings amid the
uncertain and unsatisfactory speculations of German philosophy, tells us how at length he came to quit Ilecgel, and to
quote the Bible with Uncle Tom, -came, too, to see that
there was a higher wisdom in the poor slave's simple ftith
than in the great philosopher's dialectics, and found peace and
satisfaction in "kneeling with his praying brother," Uncle
Tom.
After various excursions, to Paris, to Switzerland, to Germany, SIrs. Stowe returned to England and re-eml)arked for
America on the 7th of September.  In the following year
she published an account of these European experiences,
in the form of letters written to fiiends at home, uinder the
title of "Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands," to which her
husband contributed an introduction, in which some account
is given of the public meetings which were heid in her honor 
IIARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
during the tour throug,h Enland and Scotland.  About this
time a new and enlarged edition of the " Iayflower" was
also published.
Established in her home once more, and restored in health,
Mrs. Stowe's literary labors were resumed; and in the year
1856, shortly after another foreign tour, her second antislavery novel was published, under the title of "Dred; a
Tale of the Dismal Swamp."  In the prefatce, the author declares her great purpose to be the same as that of her previous
story.  Once more she endeavors to do something towards
revealing to the people the true character of the system of
slavery.  The book inevitably comes into couiparison with
its prc(lecessor; and whatever may be truly said in its praise,
it cannot be questioned that, both as a work of art and as an
effective revelation of slavery, it fills fair below "Uncle Tom."
The chief defects (of the bookl, and those which lhindered the
completest fulfilrment of its noble purpose, are its lack of
unity, and ever atnd anon a departure from the simplicity
of a inarrative or representation, into the disenchantments
of discussion and arguTment, by which the reader is disturbed
in his pleasant dream and vision, and the reality of the scenes
that move before him is explained away.  The  panorama
does not move on without an interruption and in silence, as
in the case of "ULTicle Tom," interpreting itself, and silently
but powerfully iunfolding its purpose or moral, but stops now
and then to give place to the voice of the delineator in explanations or vindications.
In writing  Uncle Tom," the author seems never to have
thought that her representations would be called in question,
and accordingly she did not so much as think of fortifying
herself as she advanced, or of throwing in justifications and
arguments, or of goingo aside for facts to substantiate her
narrative, but kept faithfully to the simplicity of her purpose
to exhibit slavery as she had seen and known it.  But, in
21
321 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
writing "Dred," she seems to have labored under the embarrassment of feeling that her exhibitions needed to be explained, or justified and substantiated here and there; and as
often as the artist ceased painting, and bergan declaiming or
defining; or, in other words, by as much as Mrs. Stowe attempted to give us, with "Dred," a "IKey" to it also, she
violated the most fundamental artistic conditions of success.
Thus, also, the whole exposition of slavery was more positive, and.formal, and dogmatic than in "Uncle Tom."  The
story did not grow like  Uncle Tom," but was put together,
and is rather a series of sketches than one, organic, illdivisible story.
Dred himself, if not imperfectly conceived, is a conception
so difficult of realization, and, in fact, so imperfectly created,
that he fails to excite our sympathies.   He is anm unreal
presence,- a dark, gloomy,'lghostly being, at whose apparitions we wonder, at whose sutfferings we are not very much
moved, and over whose fate it is impossible to fetclr a tear,
-hardly a sigh, and that of relief. The fact that ill a recent edition of this story the title is changed from " Dred"
to "Nina Gordon," is suggestive. But there are unsurpassable' passages and characters in "Dred."  Til, Alunt 3filly,
Nina Gordon, Jekyl, and Aunt Nesbit are persoinages that
demonstrate Mrs. Stowe's matchless power in delineating and
differentiating individual characters. Uncle Tif, so perfectly
devoted to " dese y'er chil'en," so noble and simple of heart,
and yet so irresistibly droll in his manners; -  vwho wants to
be "ordered round'fore folks," to maintain the filmily dignity; who, when his fire goes out immediately after it was
kindled, exclaims, " Bress de Lord, got all de wood left! " -
who sits by the bed of his dyiing mistress, with his big spectacles on his ulpturned nose, and a red handkerclhief pinned
about his shoulders, comforting the sick, darning a stocking,
rocking the cradle, singing to himself, and talking to the
322 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
baby, all at once, - is a character in which the earnestness of
Uncle Tom and the jollity of Mark  Tapley are blended.
That scene at the bedside of his mistress, and his dialogue
with Fanny, wherein revival preaching is so finely criticised,
and his famous lecture to the young ladies on their manners,
are passages in which the relationship of pathos and humor
is made manifest in the happiest possible manner.   And
wFhat more powerful chapter has Mrs. Stowe ever written
than that in which A?tnt Milly tells to Nina Gordon the
tragic, the terrible story of her life?
Not long after the publication of "Dred," Mrs. Stowe be gan to write another story, which was published as a serial
in the columi;s of the "Atlantic Monthly," in the year 1859.
The "Miniister's Wooing," a tale of New England life in the
latter part of the eighteenth century, has not unfrequently
been pronounced by literary men to be the ablest of all the
books which Mrs. Stowe has written.  This opinion was expressed by so competent a critic as the Rev. Henry Alford,
D.D., Dean of Canterbury.  In it the author quits the subject
of her previous stories, and returns again to that New England life, of which she has so genuine an appreciation, and is
so fond and admirable an interpreter. But while this story
was universally acknowledged to be one of great ability, and
one in which the author gained new reputation, it was somewhat bitterly criticised on several grounds.   Many very
proper people professed the utmost disgust at the treatment which the celebrated Dr.  Hopkins received  at the
hands of the author.  It was declared to be an unpardonal)le
sin to have broughlt so dignified, august, and venerable a 
divine down to the common level of lovers in a love story.
Dr. Itopkins, or any other orthodox and exemplary doctor
of cdivinity, should unquestionably have  been  far above
any such worldliness and weakness as falling in love, especially
with a young and pretty woman.  He certainly should have
323 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
chosen some elderly, thin, angular, solemn, uncomfortable
Calvinistic spinster, and so manifested his wvillitngness to be
damned for the glory of God.   But, unfortunately, in a
moment of inexplicable weakness, Dr. Hopkins did allow his
affections to fix upon and twine about a young, and beautiful
maiden, and with him as he was, and not as he undoubtedly
ought to have been, Mrs. Stowe dealt,- not without causing
the great divine to appear somewhat diviner, to carnal eyes,
at least, by her revelation of human feelings (frailties, if you
please) that still remained uncrucified in his bosom.  Indeed,
after having read his ponderous treatises, and also an exhaustive biography of him, written by ab)le hands, we had regarded
him somewhat as we might have regarded a statue, by MIichael
Angelo, of the ideal theologian. That he had "parts" seemed
probable; but that he had "passions" we hardly dreamed.
Mrs. Stowe told us that this cold, hard, colossal theological
image was, after all, a great, simple-minded, honest, powerful,
tender-hearted man, clad in Calvinism as in a cumbrous coat
of mail, and armed therewith as with a weaver's beam, but
loving and lovable withal as a little child.  We felt gratefil to
the image-breaker, and thanked her for showing, us the man
underneath the theologian, -the Christian underneath and
more glorious than the Calvinist; but as between those who
were gratified and those who were horrified, who could
judge, save the great reading public; and has not their
judgment been rendered?
Mloreover the book was supposed by many watchmen on
the walls of Zion to be heterodox in its tendencies, and to lie
w ell adapted, if not expressly designed, to bring what is called
New England theology into contempt.  That a woman of
strong will, and of quick and ardent temperament, who had
put her convictions under the rigid theology of that age and
region,- on receiving the news of the sudden death at sea
of the son of her love, who had never given evidence of
3'-)4 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
the effectual calling of God, and was therefore to be given
over as among the lost, - should rise up, in the  intensity of her anguish, in a momentary rebellion against the God
of her creed, and utter wild and even wicked cries, and show
herself intractable to the common arts, and insensible to the
ordinary platitudes of consolation, and be quite beside herself in fact, seemed strange to these suspicious watchmen.
Had they never read of Job, or of Peter?  Is it then an easy
thing for a mother to give up her only God, or her only son?
And is it not quite enougth to drive an earnest soul into temporary madness to be shut up to such a dreadful alternative?
It seenled strange also to these watchmen that poor old Candace, all ignorant but Christian colored woman, should have
been brought forward, rather than Dr. Hopkins, to soothe
and quiet and comfort and bring back to reason this distracted
mother.  BLut Candace had tact, and a woman's instinctive
comprehension of the case in hand, neither of which the theologian possessed.   Did they never read that  God hath
chosen the weak things of this world to confound the things
that are mighty, and base things of the world, and thlings
that are despised, hath God chosen..  to bring to naught
things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence"?
The critical watchmen took it very hardly that Miss Prissy
should free her mind in such a shockingly latitudinarian manner. That estimable buLt garrulous young lady ventured to
say, "We don't ever know what God's grace has done for
folks;" and that she hoped that the Lord made " Jim one of
the elect;" and proceeded to quote what a certain woman
once said to a certain other woman whose wild son had fallen
from the mast-head of a vessel, to the effect that "from
the mast-head to the deck was  time  enough for divine
grace to do its work." But Mfiss Prissy is certainly a very
pure and consistent Calvinist in all she says. Taking into account the doctrines of an unconditional and absolute personal
325 
326    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
election, and together with it that of an instantaneous regen
eration by a divine power that descends irresistibly upon
each elect individuaI at the predestinated moment, it seems
as though JIiss.Prissy was simply making a practical application of the liopkinisian theology, and giving poor Jiml the
benefit of it.
The twenty-third chapter, entitled " Views of Divine Government," is the heart of the book.  Her description of New
England, at the date of her story, " as one vast sea, surging
from depths to heights with thought and discussion on the
most insoluble of mysteries;" her noble characterization of
the early ministry of New England; her representation of
the preaching of that time, and of the current views both
of human existence and of religious doctrines; her vivid
statement of the fearful issues which the theological systems
presented to the mind, and of the different effects produced
thereby, so that " while strong spirits walked, palm-crownled,
with victorious hynns, along these sublime paths, feebler and
more sensitive ones lay along the track, bleeding away in lifelong despair," - all this is set forth with great clearness and
power.
3is. Marvyn, whose probably unregenerate son had been
lost at sea, as was reported, was bound up in the logical consequences of her rigorous creed. Her brave, beautiful boy
was lost!  She broke out in a strain of wild despair lo M1ary.
She could not be reconciled, simply because, according to
her theology, there was nothing in God or in his government
to attract or comfort.
The poor woman was well-nig;h crazy, and no wonder, with
nothing but the sharp points of her unsuspected conceptions
of divine sovereignty to fall back upon.
"I am a lost spirit," she cried; " leave me alone!"
At that moment poor old Candace, who had never been
able to understand theology at all, but knew the God and the 
HARI,IET BEECHER STOWE.
Saviour of the gospl)el, having anxiously overheard the dreadful monologue, burst into the room.
"Come, ye poor little lamb," she said, walking straight
up to Mlrs. Miarvyn, " come to old Candace! "   and with
that she gathered the pale form to her bosom, and sat down
and began rocking her, as if she had been a babe.  " Ioney,
darlin', ye a'n't rig,ht,-  dar's a dreadful mistake somewhar.
Why, de Lord a'l't like what ye tink. -He loves ye, honey!
why, jes' feel how Iloves ye, -poor ole black Candace,an' I a'n't better'in Him as made me!  Who  was it wore de
crown o' thorns, lamb? - who was it sweat great drop)s o'
blood?-  who was it said,'Father forgive dem'?  Siy, hloley,
wasn't it de Lord dat made ye?  Dar, dar, now ye'r cryi'!
-cry away, and ease yer poor little heart.  He  died for
i\Iass'r Jim,-  loved him and died for him, -jes' give up
his sweet, precious body and soul for him on de cross! Laws,
jes' leave him in Jesus' hands!  Why, honey, dar's de very
print o' de nails in his hands now!"
The  flood-gates  were rent;  and healitig sobs and tears
shook the frail form, as a faded lily shakes under the soft
rains of summer. All in the room wept together.
"Now,  honey," said Candace, "I know our Doctor's a
milghty good man, an' larnced, -  an' in fair weather I hia'n't no
'bjection to yer hearin' all about dese yer great ain' nmighty
tings he's got to say.  But, honey, dey woll't do for yer now.
Sick folks mus'n't hab strong ineat; anl' times like dese, dar
jes''L'n't but one ting to come to, anl' dat ar's Jesus.  Look
7ight at Jesus!  Tell ye, honey, ye can't live no other way
now.  Don't ye'member how He looked on his mother, when
she stood faintin' an' tremnblin' under de cross, jes' like you?
He knows all about mothers' hearts.   He won't break yours.
327 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
It was jes''cause He know'd we'd come into straits like dis yer,
dat IIe went through all dese tings,-  I-Iiim,  dle Lord o'
Glory! Is dis Him you was a-talkin' about?  Iim you can't
love? Look at Him, all' see if you can't I Look all' see
what  ie is! - don't ask no questions, an' don't go to no
reasonin's, -jes' look at ]iin, hangiu' dar, so sweet and patient on de cross!  All dey could do couldn't stop his lovin'
'em; he prayed for'em wid all de breath he had. Dar's a
God you can love, a'n't dar?  Candace loves Him, - poor,
old, foolish, black, wicked Candace,- and she knows He
Joves her."
And here Candace broke down into torrents of weeping.
"They laid the mother, faint and weary, on her bed, and
beneath the shadow of that suffering cross came down a heal.
ing sleep onl those weary eyelids."
Could anything be more beautiful than the irrepressible
outburst of this simple woman's Christian sympathy and love,
as she took her mistress into her arms, and offered her up to
God on the altar of her own heart, and bore her griefs and
carried her sorrows, and drew her gently away from her
theories of the divine purposes and government, and laid her
tenderly down beneath the cross, in the shelter of the central
fact of Christianity, where she nmight feel the love of God,
and weep her madness away, and find comfort and peace?
It is perfectly clear that Mrs. Stowe is no blind believer in
the old New England theology.  She believes in the theology
of the feelings as well as in that of the intellect. Poor old
Candace, with her tender, sympathetic representations of the
love of Jesus, is needed quite as much as the strong divine
with his theory of underived virtue and his metaphysical
subtleties concerning it. And while " The Miniister's Wooing"
is precisely what its name indicates, a love-story, and both a
328 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
charming and powerful one, it contains also a fiee and bold
handlitng of the traditional orthodoxy of New England, and
a masterly exhibition of both its strong and its weak points,
its wholesome and its pernicious effects.  We (ire led to think
of it somewhat as Jamnes Alarvyn thought of Di. Hopkins
himself: "He is a great, grand, large pattern of a man,a man who isn't afraid to think, and to speak anything he
does think; but then I do believe, if he would take a voyage
round the world in the forecastle of a whaler, he would
know more about what to say to people than he does now;
it would certainly give him several new points to be considered!"  It is not unlikely that many of the systems and
bodies of divinity that have been compacted and elaborated
with wonderful skill in the secluded work-shops of our great
theologians, might have been modified in some of their parts,
and on the whole greatly improved by such a voyage as young
Marvyn suggests.  "The Minister's Wooing," apart from the
mere story which is told in it, was rightly regarded as a subtle
and masterly piece of theological criticism. As such it was
no less warmly welcomed than bitterly assailed.  But whatever may be thought of its soundness and merit, there can
be no doubt of its great influence. Few books that have
been published within the last twenty years have done more
to confirm the popular suspicion that the most perfectly compacted dogmatic systems of theology are of all things the
most imperfect, inadequate, and unsatisfactory, and to
strengthen what may be called the liberal evangelical party
of New England.
Immediately after the publication of " The Minister's Wooinog" in book-form, Mrs. Stowe visited Europe again, sojourning for the most part in Italy, where she wrote her next story,
"Agnes of Sorrento," which also appeared as a serial in the
"Atlantic Monthly," during the year 1862.
For many years Mrs. Stowe had been an occasional contrib
329 
330    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
utor to the "New York Independent," - a religious ine- spa
per of great reputation and large circulation throughout the
country. In the year 1862 she began to write for its columns
"The Pearl of Orr's Island," -.a pleasant story, whose scene
is laid on the beautiful coast of Maine, at Harpswell, not far
from Brunswick, where she formerly resided, and whose plan
turns upon certain traditions of that seaside community.
Summer tourists still visit Orr's Island, and inspect the shell
of a house in which the pretty Pearl grew. For many years
Mrs. Stowe has been one of the able corps of writers whose
articles have enriched the columns of the  "Atlantic Monthly," and no one of them has done more to give that maga.
zine its large circulation and high reputation than slhe. "Little
Foxes" and "Chimney Corner" papers were written for it,
and both these series of piquant essays have had a large sale
at home and abroad.  The "Queer Little People," whom Mrs.
Stowe described to the readers of "Our Young Folks," were
people of so much interest that her papers concerning them
were gathered into a volume and scattered through the land
to the delight of thousands of people both big and little.
Throughout her literary career Mrs. Stowe has been known
by her friends, and in later years has become known to the
public, as a poet whose songs, in certain tender and plaintive
keys, have a peculiar charm and power.  Within a few years
a goodly number and a judicious selection of her poems have
been published.  They are chiefly of a religious character,
and are the rhythmical breathings of a deep and almost mystic piety. Their music is like the sounds that come up out
of the heart of the sea in peaceful summer days when one is
by himself on the shore, - sadly sweet and sweetly sad. Oneof the most beautiful of all these poems is the following which
has found a place in many of the hymnologies of our churches,
and has gone out, indeed, through all the world: 
HARRIET BEECHIER STOWE.
"When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,
And billows wild contend with angry roar,
'Tis said, far down beneath its wild commotion,
That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore.
"Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth,
And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth,
Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.
"So, to the heart that knows thy love, 0 Purest,
There is a temple, sacred evermore,
And all the babble of life's angry voices
Dies in hushed stillness at its peaceful door.
" Far, far away the roar of passion dieth,
And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully,
And no rude storm howv, fierce soe'er it flieth,
Disturbs the soul that dwells, 0 Lord, in thee.
" 0 rest of rest! 0 peace, serene, eternal!
Thou ever livest, and thou changest never;
And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth
Fulness of joy, forever and forever."
In the year 1864 Mrs. Stowe built a beautiful house in the
city of Hartford, where she has since resided, surrounded by
a large circle of family friends, and both admnired and loved
by all who enjoy the honor of her acquaintance.
In the midst of whatever can minister to comfort, or invite
to leisure and repose, her years are still years of literary labors,
and also of rich fruits in their season. Late may she rest
from those labors I
331 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
BY THEODORE TILTON.
I OXCE watched an artist while he tried to transfer to his
canvas the lustre of a precious stone. His picture, after his
utmost skill, was dull. A radiant and sparkling woman, full
of wvit, reason, and fancy, is a whole crown of jewels.  A
poor, opaque copy of her is the most that one can render in
a biographical sketch.
Elizabeth Cady, daughter of Judge Daniel Cady and
MIargaret Livingston, was born November 12th, 1816, in
Johnstown, New York,- forty miles north of Albany.
Birthplace is a secondary parentage, and transmits character. Elizabeth's birthplace was more famous half a century
ago than since; for then, though small, it was a marked intellectual centre; and now, though large, it is an unmarked
manufacturing, town.  Before her birth, it was the vice-ducal
seat of Sir William Johnson, the famous English negotiator
with the Indians.  During her girlhood, it was an arena for
the intellectual wrestlings of 1cent, Tompkins, Spencer,
Elisha Williams,.and Abraham Van Vechten, who, as lawyers,
were among the chiefest of their time. It is now deqvoted
mainly to the fabrication of steel springs and buckskin gloves.
So, like Wordsworth's early star, "it has faded into the light
of common day."
A Yankee said that his chief ambition was to become more
332 
~~~ ~~jFT,j~  
MRS. ELIZABETH CADS STANTON.
famous than his native town: Mrs. Stanton has lived to
see her historic birthplace shrink into a mere local repute,
while she herself has been quoted, ridiculed, and abused into
a national faime.
But Johnstown still retains one of its ancient splendors, -a
glory still as fresh as at the foundation of the world.  Standing on its hills, one looks off upon a couratry of enamelled
meadow lands, that melt away southward toward the Mohawk,
and northward to the base of those grand mountains which
are God's monument over the grave of John Brown. In
sight of six different counties in clear weather, Elizabeth
Cady, a child of free winds and flowing brooks, roamed at
will, frolicking with lambs, chasing butterflies, or, like
Proserpine, gathering flowers, "herself a fairer flower."  As
Hanson Cox, standing under the pine tree at Dartmouth
College, and gazing upon the outlying landscape, exclaimed,
" This is a liberal education!" so Elizabeth Cady, in addition
to her books, her globes, her water-colors, and her guitar,
was an apt pupil to skies and fields, gardens and meadows, flocks and herds.  Happy the child whose foster-parents
are God and Nature!
The one person who, more than any other, gave an intellectual bent to her early life, even more than her father and
mother, was her minister.  This was the Rev. Simon Hosack,
a good old Scotchman, pastor for forty years of a Presbyterian
church in which the Cady family had always been members,
and of which Mrs. Stanton (though she has long resided elsewhere) is a member to this very day;-a fact which her
present biographer takes special pains to chronicle, lest, otherwise, the world milght be slow to believe that this brilliant,
audacious, and iconoclastic woman is actually an Old School
Presbyterian. The venerable Scotch parson- snowy-haired,
heavy-browed, and bony-cheeked - was generally cold to most
of his parishioners, but always cordial to Elizabeth. A great
333 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
affection existed between this shepherd and his lamb.   What
she could not say to either father or mother, she unbosomed
to him.  Full of the sorrows which all imaginative natures
suffer keenly in childhood, she found in this patriarch a
fatherly confessor, who tenderly taught her how to bear her
little burdens of great weight, or, still better, how to suffer
them and be strong.  Riding his parish rounds, he would
take Elizabeth into his buggy, give the reins into her hands,
and, while his fair charioteer vainly whipped the mild-mannered mare, the good man would put on his spectacles, and read
aloud from some book or foreign review, or, when not reading,
wouldtalk.  The favorite subject, both for reading and talking,
was religion, -never the dark, but always the bright side of it.
Indeed, religion has no dark side. The fancied shadow is
not in the thing seen, but in the eye seeing. "If the light
that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!"
Seeking to fill the girl's mind with sunshine and glory, her
minister kept always painting, toher young f'imcy, fair pictures
of paradise and happy saints.  Peregrinating in his antique
vehicle, the childless old man, fatherinug this soulful child,
taught her that the way to heaven was as lovely as a
country road fringed with wild roses and arched with summer
blue.
"My father," she says in one of her letters, "'was truly
great and good,-an ideal judge; and to his sober, taciturn,
andwmajestic bearing, he added the tenderness, purity, and
refinement of a true woman.  SMy mother was the soul of independence and self-reliance, -cool in the hour of danger, and
never knowing fear.  She was inclined to a stern militaiy
rule of the household,-a queenly and magnificent sway; but
my father's great sense of justice, and the superior weight of his
greater alge (for he was many years her senior), so miodified
the domestic governmenlt that the children had, in the n main,
a pleasant childhood."
334 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
The child. is not only father of the man, but also moth,r of
the woman.  This large-brained, inquisitive, and ambitious
girl, who early manifested a meditative tendency, soon found
her whole nature sensibly jarred with the first inward and
prophetic stirrings toward the great problem to which she has
devoted her after years,- the elevation and enfranchisement
of woman.
In my earliest girlhood," she says, "I spent much time in
my fathler's office.  There, before I could understand much
of the talk of the older people, I heard many sad complaints,
made by women, of the injustice of the laws.   We lived in a
Scotclh neilghborhood, where many of the men still retained
the old feudal ideas of women and property.  Thus, at a man's
death his property would descend to his eldest son, and the
mother would be left with nothing, in her own right.  It was
not unusual, therefore, for the mother, who had probal)ly
broughl t all the property into the family, to be made an unhappy dependent on the bounty of a dissipated son.  The
tears and complaints  of these women,  who  came  to my
father for le(gal advice, toliched my heart; and I would often
childishly inquire into all the particulars of their sorrow, and
would appeal to my father for some prompt remedy.  On one
occasion, lhe took dcown a law-book, and tried to show me that
somethingi called'the laws' prevented him from putting a stop
to these cruLel and unji.ist things.  In this way, my head was
filled with a great anger against those cruel and atrocious laws.
After which the students in the office, to amuse themselves by
exciting my feelings, would always tell mc of any unjust laws
lvhieh they found durinu their studies.  MIIy mind iwas thus so
aroused  giainst the barbarism of the laws thus pointed out,
that I one day marked them with a pencil, and dclecided to
take a pair of scissors and cut them out of the book,- supposing that my father and his library were the beginnilig and
335 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
end of the law!  I thought that if I could only destroy those
laws, those poor women would have no further trouble. But
when the students informed my father of my proposed mutilationi of his volumes, he explained to me how fruitless my
childish vengeance would have been, and taught me that bad
laws were to be abolished in quite a different way.  As soon
as I fairly understood how the thing could be accomplished,
I vowed that, when I became old enough, I would have such
abominable laws changed.  And I have kept my vow."
After the failure of Elizabeth's novel and original plan of
amending the laws with her scissors, another equally strange
ambition took possession of her mind.
"I was about ten years old," she says, "when my only
brother, who had just graduated at Union College with high
honors, came home to die.  He was my father's pride and
joy.  It was easily seen that, while my father was kind to us
all, the one son filled a larger place in his affections and future
plans than the five daughters together. W5ell do I remember
how tenderly he watched the boy in that last sickness; how
he sighed, and wiped the tears from his eyes, as he slowly
walked up and down the hall; and how, when the last sad
moment came, and all was silent in the chamber of death, he
knelt and prayed for comfort and support. I well remember,
too, going into the large, dark parlor to look at my brother's
corpse, and fincding my father there, pale and immovable, sitting in a great arm-chair by his side. For a long time my
father took no notice of me. At last I slowly approached him
and climbed upon his knee. He mechanically put his arm
about me, and, with my head resting against his beating
heart, we sat a long, long time in silence, -he, thinllking of
the wreck of all his hopes in the loss of his dear son, and
I fully feeling the awful void death had made. At length,
he heaved a deep sigh and said,'O my daughter, I wish you
336 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
were a boy!''Tlhen I will be a boy,' said I,'and will do all
that my brother did.'
All that day, and far into the night, I pondered the problem of boyhood.  I thought the chief thing was, to be learned
and courageous, as I fancied all boys were.  So I decided to
learn Greek, and to manage a horse.  Hiaving come to that
conclusion, I fell asleep.  My resolutions, unlike most made
at night, did not vanish in the morning.  I rose early, and
hastened to put them into execution. They were resolutions
never to be forgotten, -destined to mould my whole future
character.  As soon as I was dressed, I hastened to meet our
good pastor in his garden, which joined our own.   Finding
him at work there as usual, I said,'Doctor, will you teach
me Greek?''Yes,' he replied.'Will you give me a lesson
now?''Yes, to be sure,' he added.  Laying down his hoe,
and taking my hand,'Come into my study,' said he,'and we
will begin at once.'  As we walked along, I told him all
my thoughts and plans. Having no children, he loved me
very much, entered at once into the sorrow which I had felt
on discovering that a girl was less in the scale of beiing than
a boy, and praised my determination to prove the contrary.
The old grammar which he had studied in the University of
Glasgow, was soon in my hand, and the Greek article learned
before breakfast.
Tlen came the sad pageantry of death, -the weeping
finends, the dark rooms, the ghostly stillness, the funeral
cortege, the prayer, the warning exhortation, the mournful
chant, the solemn tolling bell, the burial. How my flesh
crawled during those three sad days!  What stralng,e, undefined fears of the unknown took possession of me!
For months afterward, at the twilight hour, I went
with my father to the new-made grave. Near it stood a tall
poplar, against which I leaned, while my father threw himself upon the grave with outstretched arms, as if to embrace
22
337 
338    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
his child.  At last the frosts and storms of November came,
and made a chilling barrier between the living and the dead,
and we went there no more.
"During all this time, the good doctor and I kept up our
lessons; and I learned, also, how to drive and ride a horse,
and how (on horseback) to leap a fence and ditch.  I taxed
every power, in hope some day to make my father say,'Well,
a girl is as good as a boy, after all!'  But he never said it.
When the doctor would come to spend the evening, with us,
I would whisper in his ear,'Tell my father how fast I get
on.' And he would tell him all, and praise me too. But my
fathet would  only pace  the  room  and sigh,'Ah, she
should have been a boy!'  And I, not knowiing why, would
hide my head on the doctor's shoulder, and often weep with
vexation.
"At length, I entered the academy, and, in a class mainly
of boys, studied Mathematics, Latin, and Greek.  As two
prizes were offered in Greek, I strove for one, and got it.
How well I remember my joy as I received that prize!
There was no feeling of ambition, rivalry, or triumph over
my companions, nor any feeling of satisfaction in winning
my honors in presence of all the persons assembled in the
academy on the day of exhibition.  One thought alone occupied my mind.'Now,' said I,'my fitther will be happy, -
he will be satisfied.' As soon as we were dismissed, I
hastened home, rushed into his office, laid the new Greek
Testament (which was my prize) on his latp, and exclaimed,
'There, I have got it!' HIe took the book, looked through
it, asked me some questions about the class, the teachers, and
the spectators, appeared to be pleased, handed the book back
to me, and, when I was aching to have him say something
which would show that he recognized the equality of the
daughter with the son, kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed with a sigh,'Ah, you should have been a boy T' 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
That ended my pleasure. I hastened to my room, flulngl the
book across the floor, and wept tears of bitterness.
"But the good doctor, to whom I then went, gave me
hope and courage.  Wrhat a debt of gratitude I owe to that
dear old man! I used to visit him every day, tell him the
news, comb his hair, read to him, talk with him, and listen
with rapture to his holy words. Oh, how often the memory
of many things he has said has given me comfort and strength
in the hour of darkness and struggle! One day, as we sat
alone, and I held his hand, and he was ill, he said,'Dear
child, it is your mission to help mould the world anew.  May
good angels give you thoughts, and move you to do the work
which they want done on earth. You must promise me one
thing, and that is, that you will always say what you thil)k.
Your thoughts are given you to utter, not to conceal; and if
you are true to yourself, and give to others all you see and
know, God will pour more light and truth into your own
soul. My old Greek lexicon, testament, and grammar,
which I studied forty years ago, and which you and I have
thumbed so often together, I shall leave to you when I die;
and, whenever you see them, remember that I am watching
you firom heaven, and that you can still come to me with all
your sorrows, just as you have always done. I shall be ever
near you.'
"W hen the last sad scene was over, and his will was
opened, sure enough, there was a clause in it, saying,'My
Greek lexicon, testament, and gramnmar, I give to Elizabeth
Cady.
"Great Was the void which the doctor's death made in
my heart.  But I slowly transferred my love to the books.
When I first received them they were all falling to pieces.
So I had them newly bound in black morocco and gilt.
Dear X e they to me to this day, and dear will continue to be as
339 
340   EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE.
long as I live.  I never look at them without thanking God
that he gave me, in my childhood, so noble a friend."
At the time of Dr. Hosack's death, which was in Elizabeth's fifteenth year, her term at the Johnstown Academy
was drawing to a close.  Among, the scholars, whether girls
or boys, none could recite better, or run faster, than herself;
none missed fewer lessons, or friolics; none were oftener at
the head of recitations, or mischiefs.  If she was detained
from the class, the teacher felt the loss of her cheery company; if she was absent from the out-door games, the boys
said that half the sport was gone.  She who had been the
loved companion of a sedate theologian had, at the same time,
remained the ringleader of a bevy of mad romps.  A schoolhouse is a kingdon; and Elizabeth was a school-house queen.
After graduating at the head of her class, a sudden blow
fell upon her heart, and left a grievous wNound.   She had
secretly cherished the hope, that as she had kept ahead of
tLe boys, and thus shown at least her equality  with the
domineering, sex, she would be sent (as Johnstown boys were
then usually sent) to Union College at Schenectady.
The thoulght never  occurred to her, that this institution,
like most other colleges, was not so wise and liberal as to
educate both sexes instead of one.  There will come a time
when any institution that proposes to educate the sexes separately, will be votell too ignioranit of human nature to be
trusted with nmoulcling the minds of the sons and daughcters
of the republic.  To shut girls and boys out of each other's
sight during the four most impressible years of life is one
of the many conventional  interferences  with  natural law
which society unwittingly ordains to its own great harm.  It
is a happiness to see that most of the new colleges, particilarly in the Western States, have been based onl a more sen.
bible theory. 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.  341
Just when Elizabeth Cady's heart was most set on Union
College,- whither she would have gone hadl she pleased her
father by being a boy,  she was told that she must go instead
to Mlrs. Willard's Female Seminary in Troy because she had
disappointed himn by being a girl.  Great was her indignation
at this announcement, impetuous her protest against this plan.
The stigma of inferiority thus cast upon her on account of
her sex, and on account of her sex alone, was galling to a
maiden who had already distanced all her competitors of the
opposite sex. At every step of her journey to Troy she
seemed to herself to be treading on her pride, and crushing
out her life.   Exasperated, mortified,  and humbled, she
began, in a sad frame of mind, a boarding-school career.  "If
there is any one thing on earth," she says, " from which I
pray God to save my daughters, it is a girls' seminary. The
two years which I spent in a girls' seminary were the dreariest
years of my whole life."  Nevertheless, nothilng remained for
the disappointed child but to make the best of a bad situation.  So she beguiled her melancholy by playing mischievous pranks.  For instauce, in the seminary, a big, hand-bell
was rung downstairs every morning, as a call to prayer, and
upstairs every night, as a call to bed.  After the nig,htly
rin(,in, the bell was set down on the upper floor in an aingle
of the wall.  One night, at eleven o'clock, after the inmallttes
had l)een an hour in bed, Elizabeth furtively rose, stole out
of her dormitory in the drapery of a ghost, and solemnly
kicked the bell step by step down cvery flilght of stairs to tllhe
Lground floor! Although everybody in the houLse was wakened
by the noise, and many of the doors were opened, she glided
past all the peeping eyes like a phantom, to the general terror
of the whole house, and was never afterwards suspected as
the author of the mischief.
Soon, however, the merry frightener of others was solemnly
frightened herself.  The Rev. Charles G. Finney,- a pulpit 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
orator who, as a terrifier of human souls, has proved himself
the equal of Savonarola, - made a visit to Troy, and preached
in the Rev. Dr. Bemnan's Presbyterian church, where Elizabeth and her school-mates attended.  "I can see him jiow,"
she says (describiag Mr. Finney's preaching),  "his great
eyes rolling round the congregation, and his arms flying in
the air like a windmill.  One evening he described Hell and
the Devil so vividly, that the picture glowed before my eyes
ill the dark for months afterwards.   Oil another occasion,
when describing, the damnied as wandering inl the Inferiio,
and inquiring their way through its avenues, he suddenly
pointed with his finger, exclaiming, "There! do you not see
them?" and I actually jumped up in church and looked round,
-his description had been such a reality.
In quoting this allusion to Mr. Finney, I cannot forbear
saying that, although high respect is due to the intellectual,
moral, and spiritual gifts of the venerable ex-president of
Oberlin College, such preaching works incalculable harm
to the very souls which it seeks to save. It worked harm to
Elizabeth.  The strong man struck the child as with a lion's
paw.  Fear of the judgment seized her soul.  Mental anguish
prostrated her health.  Visions of the lost haunted  her
dreams.  Dethronement of her reason was apprehended by
her friends.  Flinging, down  her books, she suddenly fled
home.
The good minister of Johnstown, her revered counsellor,
was in his grave.  His successor was a stranger whom she
could not approach. In her despair, she turned to her
father. "Often," said she, "I would rise out of my bed,
hasten to his chamber, kneel at his side, and ask him to pray
for my soul's salvation, lest I should be east into hell before
morning."  At last, she regained her wonted composure of
spirits, and joined the Johnstown  church.  "But I was never
happy," she writes, "in that gloomy faith which dooms to
31-2 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
eternal misery the greater part of the human family. It was
no comfort to me to be saved with a chosen few, while the
multitude, and those too who had suffered most on earth.
were to have no part in heaven."
IThe next seven years of her life she spent at Johnstown,
dividing her time between book-delving and horse-taming,
and, having an almost equal relish for each, she conquered the
books in her fatlher's library, and the horses in her fatther's
stable.  Ini fact, she would sometimes ride half the day over
hill and meadow, like a fox-hunter, and then study law-books
half the night, like a jurist.  When  she was busy at her
embroidery or water-colors, her father, who had a poor opinion
of such accomplishments, would bring to her the " PRevised
Statutes," and say, " My  daughter, here is a book which, if
you read it, will give you something sensible to say to Mr.
Spencer and Mr. Williams when they next make us a visit."
Mr. Spencer and Mr. Williams were legal magnates, who
made Judge Cady's dinner-table a frequent arena for the discussion of nice points of law.  So Elizabeth, with a fine
determination to make herself the peer of the whole table,
diligently begall and pursued that study of the laws of her
country, which has since armed and equipped her, as from
an arsenal of weapons, for her struggle against all oppressive
legislation concerniing woman.  As to her horse-riding, she
has of late years discontinued it, for the reason - if I may be
so ungallant as to hint it- that a lady of very elegant but
also very solid proportions is somewhat more at her ease in
a carriage than on a saddle.
In 1839, in her twenty-fourth year, while on a visit to her
distit,guished cousin, Gerrit Smith, at Peterboro', in the
central part of New York State, she made the acquaintance
of Mr. Henry B. Stanton, then a young and fervid orator,
who had won distinction in the anti-slavery movement.  The
acquaintances speedily became friends; the friends grew into
343 
344   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
lovers; and the lovers, after a short courtship, married, and
immediately set sail for Europe.
This voyage was undertaken, not merely for pleasure and
sight-seeing, but that Mr. Stanton mighlt fulfil the mission
of a delegate to the " World's Anti-slavery Convention," to
be held in London in 1840.  Many well-known American
women were delegates, but, on presentinig their credentials,
were denied membership on account of their sex.  Lucretia
Mott, Sarah  Pugh, Emily Winslow, Abby IKimber, Mary
Grew, andAnne Greene Phillips, - who had no superiors in
all England for moral worth,- found, to their astonishment,
that, after having devoted their lives to the anti-slavery
cause, they were repulsed from an anti-slavery convention
which they had gone three thousand miles to attend.  Wendell Phillips argued manfully for their admission, but in vain.
William Lloyd Garrison - who, having crossed in a tardy
ship, did not arrive till after the question had been decided,
and decided unjustly -refilsed to present his credentials,
took no part in the proceedings, and sat a silent spectator in
the gallery, - one of the most chivalrous acts of his life.
Beaten in the committee, the ladies transferred the question
to the social circles.  Every dinner-table at which they were
present grew lively with the theme.  At a diinner-table in
Queen Street, Mrs. Lucretia Mott -then in the prime of
her intellectual powers, and with a head which Conimbe, the
phrenologist, pronounced the finest he had ever seen onl  a
woman-  replied so skilfully to the arg,uments of a dozen
friendly opponents, chiefly clergymen, that she was the acknowle(lged victor in the debate.   It was then and there
that Mrs. Stanton, for the first time, saw, heard, and became
acquainted with Lucretia Mott.  Often and often, during her
maidenly years, Elizabeth Cady had pondered the manysided question of woman's relations to society, to the State,
to the industrial arts, and particularly to the law, of property, 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
But, in thinking these thoug,hts, she had hitherto supposed
herself to be alone in the world.  Now, however, during a
six weeklis' constant and familiar coml)anionship with Mrs.
MIott, she wonderingly heard the whole cyclopedia of her
own hidden and secretly cherished convictions openly colnfessed by another's lips.  All the women with whota Mrs.
Stanton had ever associated in America had, without exception, belonged to the circle of conservative opillion.  Mrs.
MIott was the first liberal thinker on womanhood whom she
had ever encountered.  Elizabeth's delight at thus finding a
woman who had thoug,ht farther than herself, on some of the
most vital questions affecting the human soul, was as glowimg  and encheanting as if she had suddenly discovered  a
cavern of hid treasures.  It is not too much to say that the
influence of the elder of these women on the younger was
greater than the combined influence of everything else which
that younger saw and heard during her foleig,n tour.  This is
not an exaggerated statement.  I once asked her the question, "What most impressed you inll Europe?" and she instantly replied, "Lucretia Mott!"  One day, as a party of a
dozen or more friends were visitilng the British Museum,
Mrs. AMott and Mrs. Stanton, who were of the company, had
hardly entered the building when they sat down  and began
to talk to each other.  The rest went forward, made the Circuit of the curiosities, and came back to the entrance, to find
that the two talkers still sat with their heads together, never
having stirred from their platces.  The sympathetic twain had
found more in each other than either cared to look for in the
whole British Museum.   Mrs. Stanton's enthusiasm for Mrs.
MIott continues still as fresh and warm as then.  And no
wonder! For, in the same sense in which the greatest man
ever produced in this country was Benjamin Franklin, the
greatest woman ever produced in this country is Lucretia
Mott.
345 
346   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
On returning to America, Mr. Stanton began the practice
of law in Boston, where, with his wife and family, he resided
for five years. The east winds, always unfriendly to his
throat, at last drove him to take shelter in the greater kindliness of an inland climate.  Accordingly he transferred his
household and business to Seneca Falls, in the State of
New York.
The first "Womnan's Rights Convention" (known to history by that name)  was held July 19th and 20th, 1848, in
the Wesleyan Chapel at Seneca Falls.  Copies of the official
report of the proceedings are now rare, and will one day be
hunted for by antiquarians, - a petite pamphlet, about the
size of a man's hand, resembling in letter (though hardly in
spirit) an evangelical tract by the American Tract Society.
My own copy has become yellow-tinted by time.   With a
reverential interest I look back on this modest chronicle of a
great event.  That convention little thought it would be historic. But it was the first of a chain of similar conventions
which, like the links round a Leyden jar, have since girdled
half the world with the brilghtness of a new idea.  The chief
agent in calling the convention was Mrs. Stanton.  It met in
the town of her residence.  Its resolutions and declarations
of sentiment were the offspring, of her pen.  Its one great
leading idea - the elective franchise-  was a suggestioni of
her brain.  I do not know of any public demand for woman's
suffrage, made  by any organized convention, previous to
Mrs. Stantonl's demand for it in the following resolution:
"Resolved, that it is the duty of the women of this country
to secure to themselves their sacred righlt to the elective
franchise."  I am aware that women loing before had voted
(for a short time) in New Jersey.  But woiman's political
ri,ghts had already been slumbering for years when Mrs.
Stallton jarred them illto sudden wakefulness.  This she did
to the consternation of her best friends.  The convention at 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON
Seneca Falls was called, as the advertisement phrased it, "to
discuss the social, civil, and religious condition of woman."
Nothing was here said of woman's political condition, except so far as that might be ambiguously included in her
civil.  Probably very few of the dele,gates, on going to the
meeting, carried to it any such idea as woman's suffrage.
When Mrs. Stanton privately proposed to introduce the resolution which I have quoted, even Lucretia Mott-  who (as
the report characterizes her) was "the ruling spirit of the
occasion "-attempted to dissuade the bold innovator.  But
the innovator would not be dissuaded.  She offered her resolution, and, in support of it, made, for the first time in her
life, a public speech.   Not a natural orator, she at first
shrank from taking the floor. But a sense of duty impelling
her to utter her thought, she conquered her bewilderment,
stated her views, answered the convention's objections, fought
a courageous battle, and carried her proposition. No American woman ever rendered a more signal  service to her
country than was, on that day, bashfully, yet gracefully and
triumphantly, performed by Mrs. Stanton.
That convention, and, above all, its demand for woman's
suffrage, excited the universal laughter of the nation.  Wonder-stricken people asked each other the question,  What
sort of creatures could those women at Seneca Falls have
been?;' It was never suspected by the general public that
they were among the finest ladies in the land.  Even theit
own relatives and friends, who knew their personal virtues,
lamented their public eccentricities and joined the general
crowd of critics and satirists.  Judge Cady, on hearing of
what his daughter had done, fancied her crazy, and immediately journeyed from Johnstown to Seneca Falls to learn for
himself whether or not that brilliant brain had been turned.
"After my father's arrival," says she, "he talked with me a
whole evening till one o'clock in the morning, trying to
it
317 
EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE.
reason me cut of my position. At length, kissing me good.
nighlt, he said,'My child, I wish you had waited till I was
under thLe scd, before you had done this foolish thing!'  But
I replied, laughing,'Ahl, sir, don't you remember how you
used to give me law-books to read in order that I mignht have
something sensible to say to your fi'iends, Mr. Spencer and
Mr. Williams, when they came to dine with us?  It was by
reading those law-books that I found out the injustice of our
American laws toward women.  I might never have known
anything on the subject except for yourself.'"  The good
maln before his death (which occurred several years afterward), although he had never relaxed his opposition to his
daug,hter's views, nevertheless had come to cherish a secret
pride at the skill, vigor, and eloquence with which she
maintained them against all antagonists.
From  the day of the Seneca Falls Convention to the
present, Mrs. Stanton has been one of the representative
women of America.  At a similar convention, held at Cleveland, Ohio, in 1853, Lucretia Mott proposed the adoption
of the declaration of sentiments put forth at Seneca Falls in
1848. "She thought," says the official report,' that this
would be but a fitting honor to her who initiated these movements in behalf of the women of our country, Elizabeth
Cady Stanton."
I have seen the old and tattered manuscript of the first
"set speech" which Mrs. Stanton ever delivered.  It was
a lyceum lecture, ably and elaborately written; and was
repeated at several places in the interior of the State of New
York, during the first months that followed the first convention.  The manuscript, unaccountably slipping out of the
author's hands, was passed from friend to friend, from town
to town, and from State to State, until she not only lost
sight of it for the time, but gave up all hope of ever seeing it
again.  Eighteen years afterward, it was returned to her,
348 
MRS. ELIZABEII CADY STANTON.
somewhat the worse for wear.  It had, meanwhile, travelled
I know not how many hundreds of miles, and been read l)v
I know not how many hundreds of persons.  On recovering
the lost scroll, she penned on its margin  this inscription,
addressed to her daughters:
Dear Maggie and  Ltttie, this is my first speech.  It was
delivered several times immediately after the first Wotlman's
Rights Convention.  It contains all I knew at that time.  I
did not speak again for several years.  The manuscript has,
ever since, been a wanderer through the land.  Now, after a
separation of nearly eighteen years, I press my first-born to
my heart once more.  As I recall my younger days, I weep
over the apathy and indifference of women concerning their
own  degradation.  I give this manuscript to my precious
daughters, in the hope that they will finish the work which I
have begun."
Miss Susan B. Anthony -a well-known, indefatigable and
life-long advocate of temperance, anti-slavery, and woman's
riights- -has been, since 1850, Mrs. Staniton's intimate associate in reformatory lahbors.  These celebrated women are of
about equal ages, but of the most opposite characteristics, and
illustrate the theory of counterparts in affection I)y entertaining for each other a friendship of extraordinary  strength.
IMrs. Stanton is a fine writer, but poor executant; Miss Anthony
is no writer at all, but a thorough managaer.   Both have large
brailns and  great hearts;  neither has  any selfish ambition
for celebrity; but each vies with the other in a noble enthusiasm for the cause to which they are devoting their lives.
Nevertheless, to describe thiem critically, I oug(ht to say that,
opposites though they be, each does not so much supplement
the other's deficiencies as augment the other's eccentricities.
Thus, they often stimulate each other's aggressiveness, and
3i9 
350    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
at the same time diminish each other's discretion. But whatever may be the imprudent utterances of the one, or the impolitic methods of the other, the animating motives of both,
judged by the highest moral standards, are evermore as
white as the light.  The good which they do is by design;
the harm, by accident. These two women, sitting together
in their parlor, have, for the last fifteen years, been diligent
forgers of all manner  of projectiles, from  fireworks  to
thunderbolts, and have hurled them, with unexpected explosion, into the midst of all manner of educational, reformatory, and religious conventions - sometimes to the pleasant
surprise and half-welcome of the members; more often to the
bewilderment and prostration of numerous victims; and, in a
few signal instances, to the gnashing of angry men's teeth.  I
know of no two more pertinacious incendiaries in the whole
country! Nor will they themselves deny the charge. In
fact, this noise-making twain are the two sticks of a drum for
keeping up what Daniel Webster called "the rub-a-dub of
agitation."
The practice of going before a legislature to present the
claims of an unpopular cause has been more common in many
other States than in New York; most conmmon, perhaps, in
Massachusetts. With the single exception of Mrs. Lucy
Stone, - a noble and gifted woman, to whom her sisterhood
owe an affectionate gratitude, not merely for an eldquence
that has charmed thousands of ears, but for practical efforts
in abolishing laws oppressive to their sex,- I believe that
Mrs. Stanton has appeared oftener before a State legislature
than can be said of any of her co-laborers.  She has  repeatedly addressed the Legislature of New York at Albany,
and, on these occasions, has always been  honored by the
presence of a brilliant audience, and has always spoken with
dignity and ability.  Her chief topics have been the needful
changes in the laws relating to intemperance, erlucatiop, 
MRS EI.IZABETH CADY STANTON.
divorce, slavery, and suffrage.  "Yes, gentlemen," said she,
in her address of 1854, "we, the daughters of the revolu tionary heroes of'76, demand at your hands the redress of
our grievances,- a revision of your State constitution, - a
new code of laws."
At the close of that grand and glowing argument, a lawyer
who had listened to it, and who knew  and revered Mrs.
Stanton's father, shook  hands with the orator and said,
" Madam, it was as fine a production as if it had been made
and pronounced by  Judge Cady  himself."  This, to the
daughter's ears, was sufficiently high praise.
I have carefully read several of Mrs. Stanton's other ad.dresses before the New York Legislature, and have felt, in
reading them, that so able a woman ought long ago to have
been eligible to membership in a body whom she thus so
admirably addressed. But there will come a day - and
Heaven speed it! -when a legislature, or a congress, will
not be considered as representing the whole people of a State,
or of a nation, until women as well as men shall sit as its
duly chosen members, -until women as well as men shall be
expected to make, as they now are to obey, the laws of
the land, - until women as well as men shall be held politically responsible for the moral and Christian government of
the republic.  "Ye are members one of aiiothler," says the
wise' book; and the saying is no more true of the family than
of society, - no more true of the church than of the state.  It
has taken a terrific contest (and not yet completed) to
achieve the political rights of American citizens without
distinction of color. But from this point onward - without
an appeal to arms, and without a testimony of blood - a
more peaceful but not less victorious stru,ggle is in due time
to achieve the political rights of American citizens without
distinction of sex.
351 
352    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
In a cabinet of curiosities, I have laid away, as an interesting
r,elic, a little white ballot, two inches square, and inscribed:
For Representative in Congress,
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
MIrs. Stanton is the only woman in the United States who,
as yet, has been a candidate for Congress.  In conformity
with a practice prevalent in sonme parts of this country, and
very prevalent in England, she nominated herself.  The
public letter in which she proclaimed herself a candidate was
as follows:
t TO THE ELECTORS OF THE EIGHTH CONGRESSIONAL DISTRICT.
"Although, by the Constitution of the State of New York,
woman is denied the elective firanchise, yet she is eligible to
office; therefore I present myself to you as a candidate for Representative to Congress.  Belocnging to a disfranchised class,
I have no political antecedents to recommend me to your support, but my creed is free  epeech, free press, free 97en, and
flee t1ade, -the cardinal points of Democracy.  Viewing all
questions from the stand-point of principle rather than expediency, there is a fixed uniform law, as yet unrecognized by
either of the leading parties, governing alike the social and
political life of men and nations. The Republican party has occasionally a clear vision of personal rights, though in its protective policy it seems wholly blind to the rights of property
and interests of commerce. While it recognizes the duty of
benevolence between man and man, it teaches the narrowest
selfishness in trade between nations.  The Democrats, on tihe
contrary, while holding sound and liberal principles in trade 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
and commerce, have ever in their political affiliations maintained the idea of class and caste among, men,-an idea
wholly at variance with the genius of our free institutions and
fatal to a high civilization.  One party fails at one point and
one at another.  In asking your suffrages -  believing alike
in free men and free trade-I could not represent either
party as now constituted.
"Ncvertlhless, as an Independent Candidate, I desire an
election at this time, as a rebuke to the dominant party for
its retrogressive legislation in so amending the Constitution
as to make invidious distinctions on the ground of sex.
That instrument recognizes as persons all citizens who
obey the laws and support the State, and if the Constitutions
of the several States were brought into harmony with the
broad principles of the Federal Constitution, the women of
the nation would no longer be taxed without representation,
or governed without their consent.  One word should not be
added to that great charter of rights to the insult or inljury of
the humblest of our citizens.  I would gladly have a voice
and vote in the Fortieth Congress to demand universal szfff)'age, that thus a republican form of government might be
secured to every State in the Union.
" If the party now in the ascendency makes its demand for
n nero suffra,ge' in good faith, on the ground of natural right,
and because the highest good of the State demands that the
republican idea be vindicated, on no principle of justice or
safety can the women of the nation be ignored.
"In view of the fact that the Freedmen of the South and
the millions of foreigners now crowding our Western shores,
most of whom represent neither property, education, nor civilization, are all, in the progress of events, to be enfranchised,
the best interests of the nation demand that we outweigh this
incoming pauperism, ignorance, and degradation, with the
wealth, education, and refinement of the women of the ro,             23
0
353
-h 
354   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
public.  On the high ground of safety to the nation and jus
tice to its citizens, I ask your support in the coming election.
"ELIZAB13ETH CADY STANTON.
" NEW YORK, October 10, 1866."
The "New York Herald "- though, of course, with no
sincerity, since that journal is never sincere in anythingwarmly advocated Mrs. Stanton's election. "A lady of fine
presence and accomplishments in the House of Representatives," it said (and said truly), "would wield a wholesome
influence over the rough and disorderly elements of that
body."   The "Anti-slavery Standard," with genuine commendation, said, "The electors of the Eighth District would
honor themselves and do well by the country in giviing her a
triumphant election." The other candidates in the same district were Mr. James Brooks, Democrat, and Mr. LeGrand
B. Cannon, Republican. The result of the election was as
follows: Mr. Brooks received thirteen thousand eight hundred
and sixteen votes, Mr. Cannon eight thousand two hundred
and ten, and Mrs. Stanton twenty-four. It will be seen that
the number of sensible people in the district was limited! The
excellent lady, in looking back upon her successful defeat,
regrets only that she did not, before it became too late, pro-cure the photographs of her two dozen unknown friends.
In the summer of 1867, the people of Kansas were to debate,
and in the autumn to decide, the most novel, noble, and beautiful question ever put to a popular vote in the United States,the question of adopting a newv Constitution whose peculiarity
was that it extended the elective franchise not merely to
"'white male citizens," but to those of what Frederick Douglass calls "the less fashionable color," and to those also of
what Horace Greeley calls "the less muscular sex."  Mrs.
Lucy Stone and Miss Olympia  Browni-helped by other
ladies less famous, and by several earnest men, including the
IIon. Samuel C. Pomeroy, Senator of the United States
4
I
0 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
made public speeches at prominent places in that State, urg ing the people to give the new idea a hospitable welcome at
the polls. This canvass was as chivalrous as a tournament,
and abounded, from beginning to end, with romantic inci dents.  To hear from the lips of Mrs. Stone (in that delight fill eloquence of conversation which she has never surpassed
on the platform), a recital of the most serious or the most
comical of these, is as pleasant an entertainment as a supper table chat can well afford. Toward the close of that memo rable campaign, Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony, like a
reserved force, joined themselves to the general battle.
Accidentally associated with them (first with Miss Anthony and
afterwards with Mrs. Stanton) was Mr. George Francis Train,
- soldier of fortune, hero of Fenianism, martyr to creditors,
guest of jails, and candidate for the presidency. The "Tribune" has admiringly called Mr.  Train "a charlatan and
blatherskite."  Ampler justice compels me to add that he is,
nevertheless, of all mountebanks the most amiable, and of all
clowns the most innocent.  These women of substance and
this manl of fioth formed in Kansas a coalition which provokecl their opponents to smiles, and their friends to regrets.
Anxious watchers of the progress of the good cause were apprehensive that the flighltiness of Mr. Train's speeches would
bring the new question into disrepute.  But the history of
reforms in all countries, and especially in this, has shown
that neither the wildest friends nor the fiercest enemies of a
great idea can any more trample it under their feet tlhan if
they had trodden on a sunbeam. The result of the vote on
the lnewv Constitution was flatterinlg beyond the most sanguine
expectation.  No wise observer of the signs of the times had
looked; for the adoption of that radical instrument, but only
for a generous minority in its support. The figures stood nine
thousand for, and nineteen thousand against.  I have never
met any student of Americaln politics who was not -reatly sur
355 
35G    EMINENT WOMEN O} THE AGE.
prised thus to find that one-third of thle voters in any State of
the Union were sufficiently advanced in opinion to demand at
the ballot-box the political equality of the sexes. If the antislavery party in Massachusetts, like the woman's suffrage party
in Kansas, had received, on a first trial at the polls, one-thlird
of the votes cast, the early abolitionists would have shouted
for joy, and have rung their church-bells for a jubilee.
Whether the vote in Kansas was increased or diminished by
]Mr. Train's harangues, I am unable to say.  But it is proper
to say that the anti-slavery movement, gathering, as it did, to
its annual platforms, many of the greatest as well as some of the
shallowest of human brains; and the woman's suffrage movement, constantly repeating, as it does, these same phenomena,
thereby furnish to the world a magnificent proof of the universality of those great ideas  which thus make known their
power upon all classes of human beings, great and small, wise
and simple, sane and crazy.  God has ordained that the noble
army of reformers, while marshalled by the choicest spirits
of the age, should give honorable rank also to Tag, Rag, and
Bobtail.  I can see no reason why the gifted and anointed
leaders of great movements should decline to make common
cause with any and all who are willing to work for the com
mnon end.
After the election in Kansas, Mrs. Stanton, Miss Anthony,
and Mr. Train made a slow progress eastward, stopping at
the chief cities on their way, and addressing public meetings
on woman's rights.  These meetings provoked merited criticism on account of the performances of Mr. Train,  who
amused his audiences with the capers of a harlequin.  The
previous substantial reputatioi,of the two ladies, as earnest
reformers, was, on this account, greatly shaken.  And yet
their own speeches, on all these occasions, were grave, earnest, and impressive,- always worthy of their authors and
of the cause. It was, therefore, supposed that the grotesque 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
partnership would be only temporary, but it proved to )be
permanent.  By the time the three travellers had reached
New York, they had projected a weekly journal, which made
its appearance at the beginningD of 1868, under the topsyturvyingo title of "The Revolution;" edited by  Elizabeth
Cady Stanton and Parker Pillsbury, and published by Susan
B. Anthony.  Like Jupiter Tonans in the rainy season, this
sheet always thunders. It is the stormiest of journals. Its
pages, as one turns them over, seem to crinkle, flutter, and
snap with electric heats. Examine almost any number of
"The Revolution," and it will be found the strangest mixture
of sense and nonsense known anywhere in American journalism,- a rag-bag of the most incongruous topics.  The articles signed "E. C. S." and "P. P." are full of force  and
fire, -  seldom commonplace or tame.  Mr. Pillsbury has a
gorgeous and sombre imagination, which, when it plays about
ally subject that call bear its strong colors, makes some of
his best essays truly magnificent.  Mrs.  Stanton, who is
always in high animal spirits, and who, like a ripe grape,
carries a whole summer's sunshine in her blood, fills her
most serious articles with filn, frolic, and satire, and, even iii
her most humorous escapades, shows a rare vein of tenderness, pathos, and eloquence. She so abounds in metaphors
and pithy phrases that a characteristic article from her peln
is like a Chinese jar of chow-chow, - filled with little lumps
of citron, apricot, and ginger, all swiming in a sweet and
biting, syrup.  The political disquisitions of this co-workingo
yet non-assimtilating pair are sometimes grand and just,
sometimes visionary and absurd, and sometimes outrageous
and wicked.  Mr. Train and his money-writers dance up and
down through one-tlhird of each week's space in the paper,
and hold a high carnival of balderdash.  One particular colntribution, kept up every week, is made so to coruscate with
outlandish nutions, comments, and criticisms, that it remiind
357 
358    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
one of an old barn-door in a dark night, scrawled over, in
phosphorus, with "gorgonos, hydras, and chimeras dire."
But in speaking thus freely of this conglomerate sheet, - a
journal, which, on its present plan, can never take a respectable rank among the influential presses of the counltry,-  I
must honorably say, on the other hand, that some of the
noblest thoughts and utterances pertinent to this dclay and
generation,   ringing words for liberty, justice, and womanhood,-  glowing, rebukes of false customs, social tyrannies,
and degrading conventionalities,- eloquent appeals for a more
liberal civil polity, and a more equitable social order, - fervid
aspirations toward whatever dignifies human nature and
purifies the  immortal soul, - these, too,  "thoughts that
breathe and words that burn,"- are spread week by week upon
the pages of "The Revolution," and from no brain oftener than
from the fiery, wayward, scornful, sympathetic, and Christian
soul of Elizabeth Cady Stanton.
I may now paint her features, and sumi up her character.
MIrs. Stanton's face is thought to resemble Martha Washington's, but is less regular and more animated; her hair
early gray, and now frosty white - falls about her head in
thick clusters of curls; her eyes twinkle with amiable mischief;  her voice, though hardly musical, is mellow and
agreeable; her figure is of the middle height, and just stout
enou,gh to suggtest a preference for short walks rather than
for long. In reality, however, she can walk like an Englishwoman,   though, if, dutring a stroll in the street, some jest sets
her to laughing, she is forced to halt, cover her countenance
with her veil, and shake contagiously till the spasm be past.
The costume that most becomes her (and in which her historic portrait ought to be garmented) is a blue silk dress and
a red India shawl, - an array, which, topped with her magnificent white hair, makes her a patriotic embodiment of" red,
white, and blue." 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
Her gift of gifts is conversation.  Her throne of queenship
is not the official chair of the Woman's Rights Convention
(though she always presides with dignity and ease), but is
rather a seat at the social board, where the company are
elderly conservative gentlemen, who combine to argue her
down.  I think she was never argued down in her life.  Go
into a fruit-orchard, jar the ripe and laden trees one after
another, and not a greater shower of plums, clherries, and
pomegranates will fall about your head, than the witticisms,
anecdotes, and repartees which this bounteous woman sheds
down in her table-talk. House-keeping, and babies, free trade
and temperance, woman's suffrage and the "white' male citizen, "- these are her favorite themes. Many a person, on
spending a delightful evening in her society, has gone away,
saying, "Well, that is Madam de Stael alive again."
Never a human being had a kindlier nature than Mrs. Stanton's. Pity is her chief vice; charity, her besetting sin. She
has not the heart to see a chicken killed, or a child punished.
If robbed of all her property, she could not endure to have
sentence passed on the thief. When a wretch does wrong,
she is apt to think his act not so much his own fault, as the
fault of the law under which he lives. A judge punishes the
offender, and lets the law go uncondemned; but this judge
of jutldg,es lets the offender go free, and condemns the law instead. On the one hand, her sense of justice is so sensitive,
and, on the other, her tender-heartedness is so excessive, that
she compounds for pardoning the criminal by attackiing all
those usages of society which have conspired to lure him to
his crime.  Thus, seeing a man drunken in the streets, she
does not chide the culprit so much as she denounces the sale
of liquor; seeing a seamstress underpaid, she does not denounce the meanness of the employer so much as the narrow
range of women's employments; seeing( a widow cheated out
of her inheritance, she would not so eagerly seek to punish
359 
360   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the scoundrel as to secure woman's suffrage for womanl's self
protection.
It is a settled maxim with me," she says, "that the existing public sentiment on any subject is wrong."  Accordingly,
as against the customary, stridgent laws of divorce, she holds
to the doctrine of John Milton; as against the prevailing
tariffs, she argues vehemently for free trade; as against oldfashioned religious opinions, she inclines to an unchecked
free-thinking;  and as against the common notion of what
constitutes woman's sphere, she holds that woman's sphere is
to be widened unto equal greatness with man's.
If it be supposed that, in all I his, she desires to make woman
less womanly, such a suppositi( ii is unjust. It is because, under
the present canons of society, womanl's nature is denied its
true growth, defriauded of its true liberty, and defeated of its
true end and aim, that Mrs. Stanton, being a woman herself,
so earnestly tries to take woman's feet out of the Chinese
shoes of dwarfing, custom,- to rescue her from her present
constrained position in a restrictive social order,- to inspire
her toward a faiirer ideal of womanhood, - to restore her to her
own truer self,- and to present her back once more to God.
Mrs. Stanton's knowledge of human nature in its various
ranges, and of human life in its various experiences, has been
as rich, varied, and profound as often falls to the lot of any
human being. The sacred lore of motherhood is to her a
familiar study.  Five sons and two daughters sit around her
table, all as proud of their mother as if she were a queen of
Fairyland,  and they her pages in waiting.  Drinkinig not
seldom at the fountain of sorrow, she has found, in its bitter
waters, strength for her soul. Religious and worshipful by
constitution, she has cast off in her later life the superstitions
of her earlier, but has never lost her childhood's faith in God.
Society being (as she looks at it) full of hollowness and
falsity, she sometimes yearns for its reformation as if her 
MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
heart would break, - the cause of woman's elevation being
with her not merely a passion but a religion. She would
willingly give her body to be burned, for the sake of seeing
her sex enfranchised.  But over all this aching and restless
earnestness of her inward life nature has kindly drawn a
countenance of sunny smiles, a perpetual good-humor, and an
irresistible flow of spirits; so that, as she faces the world, she
is one of the most fascinating, exhaustless, and perennial of
companions; and, as she turns away from it, and faces God
alone, she offers to him a soul whose very sorrows, disappointments, and hopes deferred have long ago wrought within
her a solemn, cheerful, and  immortal  peace.  Nothing in
her outward career-nothing in her representative positionnothing, in her gayety and wit-nothing in the whole cluster of
those fine intellectual faculties that make her one of the ablest
women of our day -nothing in any part of her mind, character,
or life is so truly admirable as the one, central characteristic
quality of moral energy, which, like a hidden and glowing
ember, ignites within her a fiery indignation against all forms
of oppression, a sacred love of liberty and justice, a proud reverence for human nature, even in its lowliest fortunes, and a
perpetual and defiant appeal from the falseness of society to
the justice of God.
0
361 
.
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
THE WOMAN'S RIGHTS MOVEMENT AND ITS
CHAMPIONS IN THE UNITED STATES.
BY ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
WE may date the Woman's Rights cause proper, from
the division in the anti-slavery organization in 1840; though
before that time, Frances Wright, an Englishwoman of rare
gifts both as a writer and speaker, had visited this country,
and addressed large audiences, demanding at that early day
all that the champions of woman's rights now claim.
She was followed by Ernestine L. Rose, a native of Poland,
-a woman of great beauty, refinement, and cultivation, - of
generous impulses, liberal views, and oratorical power.  She
came to this country in 1836, addressed large audiences in
Charleston, South Carolina, and in Detroit, Michigan, on "The
Science of Government."  When it was announced in those
cities, that a woman was to speak on such a theme, men made
themselves merry at her presumption; but, after listening to
her able exposition of the republican idea, leading men came
to her, and, with marked respect, complimented her successful effort.  She was among the first who agitated the property
rights of married women in the State of New York. As
early as 1838 she circulated petitions on that subject, which
were presented by Judge Hertell in the Legislature. She
has been one of the leaders in the Woman's Righlts movement
362 
SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE.
since that time, and spoken at all the annual  conventions.
The active part the women of this country had taken in the
anti-slavery cause, beginning, in 1830, had prepared them for
this lnew demand.
Ill those early organizations woman had an equal voice
with man. She did more than sew pilncLIshionls, and ask
alms; she proclaimed the living truths of the gospel of freedom, in public assemblies, as well as at the hearthstone,- to
grave and reverend seniors in halls of legislation, as well as
to her husband at home.
SARAH AND ANGELINA GRIMKE.
In 1836 Sarah and Angelina Grimke, daulghters of  a
wealthy planter in South Carolina, emancipated their slaves,
and came North to lecture on the evils of slavery.  They
were high-toned, noble women, well educated, of keen moral
perceptions, and deeply religious natures.  The one desire in
their childhood and youth had beeni to escape the daily torture of witnessilng the cruelties inflicted upon the slave; to get
beyond the abominations they saw no way to end.
Angelina, the younger sister, was a natural orator.  Fresh
from the land of bondag,e, there was a fervor in her speech
that electrified her listeners, and drew crowds wherever
she went.  She was tall, delicately organized, with a sad,
thoughtful face, dark hair and eyes, with great depth of
expression. Her voice was rich, clear, and strong, and could
easily fill any hall.
Both sisters were ready writers, and, while lecturing through
the North, wrote for the press, on slavery and woman's
rig,hts.  Sarah published a book reviewing the Bible arg,uments, which the clergy were then making in all our pulpits,
to prove that the degradation of the slave and woman were
363 
364   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
alike in harmony with the expressed will of God.   In May,
1837, a National Woman's Anti-slavery Convention was called
in New York, in which  eight States were represented by
seventy-one delegates.  The  meetings were ably sustained
through two days. The different sessions were opened by
prayer and reading of the Scriptures, by the womien themselves, and a devout, earnest, and Christian spirit pervaded
all the proceedings. The debates, resolutions, speeches, and
appeals were fully equal to those in ally conventions held
by the men of that period.
Ang,elina Grimke was appointed in this convention to prepare an appeal for the slaves to the people of the free States,
and a letter to John Quincy Adams, thanking him for his
services in defending the right of petition for women and
slaves, qualified with the regret that, by expressing himself
adverse to the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia," he did not sustain the cause of freedom and of God.
What man has done as the result of war, women asked to
prevent war thirty years ago.  In 1838 she was married to
Theodore D. Weld, and settled in New Jersey. She is the
mother of one daughter and two sons.  Among those who
took part in the debates of that convention, we find the names
of Lydia Maria Child, Mary Grew, IHenrietta Sargoent, Sarah
Pugh, Abby Kelley, Mary S. Parker, of Boston, who was
president of the convention, Anne Weston, Deborah Shaw,
Martha Storrs, Mrs. A. L. Cox, Rebecca B. Spring,, and
Abigail Hopper Gibbons, a daughter of that noble Quaker,
Isaac T. Hopper. Though early married, and the mother of
several children, her life has been one of constant activity
and self-denial for the public good.  Those who  know her
best can testify to her many acts of benevolence and mercy,
working alike for the unhappy slave, the unfortunate of her
own sex, the children on Randall's Island, and the suffering
soldiers in our late war. 
ABBY KELLEY.-MARY GREW.
ABBY KELLEY,
A young Quakeress, made her first appearance on the
anti-slavery platform.  She was a tall, fine-looking girl, with
a large, well-shaped head, regular features, dark hair, blue
eyes, and a sweet, expressive countenance.   She was a
person of clear moral perceptions, and deep feeling.  She
spoke extemporaneously, always well, at times with great
eloquence and power. As soon as the rare gifts as orators,
that both she and Angelina Grimnke displayed in the women's
meetings, were noised abroad, the men, one by one, asked
permission to come into their meetiings, and thus, through man's
curiosity, they soon found themselves speaking to promiscuous
audiences. For a period of thirty years Abby IKelley has
spoken on the subject of slavery. She has travelled up and
down the length and breadth of this land,- alike in winter's
cold and summer's heat, mid scorn, ridicule, violence, and
mobs, suffering all kinds of persecution, -still speaking,
whenever and wherever she gained audience, in the open air, in
school-house, barn, depot, church, or public hall, onl weekday, or Sunday, as she found opportunity.
In 1845 she married Stephen S. Foster, and soon after,
they purchased a farm in Worcester, Massachusetts, where,
with an only daughter, she has lived several years in retirement.  Having lost her voice by constant and severe use, she
gave up lecturing while still in her prime.
MARY GREW,
The datughter of Rev. Henry Grew, of Philadelphia, has
been for thirty years one of the ablest and most faithful
workers both in the anti-slavery and woman's rights cause.
She is a cousin of Wendell Phillips. Being, a woman of
sound judgment, and great general information, she has been
360 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
one of his most reliable friends and counsellors, in planning
and executing his lifelong work. She is one of the most
terse and finished writers of the age. Her anti-slavery re ports made out annually, and published in "The Anti-slavery
Standard," are concise and comprehensive statements of facts
and principles governing them. She is a woman of vigorous
thought, and high moral principle.  Gentle, refined, unobtrusive in manner, she is still a woman of great independence,
and self-reliance of character.  Being one of the delegates to
the WVorld's Anti-slavery Convention, I met her for the first
time in London in 1840.  I remember how charmed I was to
hear her laud our republican institutions, in the presence of
boasting Einglishmen, and, in her keen, sarcastic way, express
the utmost contempt for the sham and tinsel, the pomp and
ceremony of the Old World. I was especially pleased with a
little incident that occurred one day, at a larg,e dinner p-rty,
at Samuel Gurney's,- a wealthy banker who had a beautiful
country-seat near London.  Lord Morpeth and the Duchess of
Sutherland had been invited to meet a party of Americans there,
as they had expressed a wish to see the American abolitionists.
As it was a warm, pleasant afternoon in June, we went out on
the smooth green lawn, under the shade of some majestic old
trees, to hear Lord Morpeth read the reports to the
British government from Jamaica. Most of us had been
formally presented to the Lord and Lady, but Mr. Grew, havingc, come late, had not yet had the honor of an introduction.
Having formed ourselves into a semicircle round his lordship
during the reading, at the close Miss Grew took her fa.ther's
arm, and, in a cool, self-possessed manner, walked across the
intervening, space, and introduced her father to the Duchess
of Sutherland, then mistress of the robes, with the same
air as she would have presented two plain republicans in her
own couitry.  Standing near the daughter of Sir Fowell
Buxton, she said to me, " What are you American girls made
366 
IARY GREW.
of? Not a girl in all England would have presumed to intro.
duce a commoner, to one of such rank as her Grace."  "Ah!
madam," I replied, "you forget that in our country we are all
of noble blood, all heirs apparent to the throne."
The women who devoted themselves to the anti-slavery
cause in the early days, endured the double odium of being
abolitionists, and "women out of their sphere;" hence the
men who were engaged in the same cause little knew all the
peculiar aggravations and trials of their position. The admiration such women as Angeline Grimke', Ab)by Kelley, and
Lucretia Mott, commanded by their presence and eloquence,
was well tempered by ridicule and denunciation. The press
and the pulpit exhausted the English language to find adcljectives to express their detestation of so horrible a revelation
as " a woman out of her sphere." A clerical appeal was issued and sent to all the clergymen in New England, calling
on them to denounce in their pulpits this unwomanly and unchristian proceeding.  Sermons were preached portraying, in
the  darkest  colors the fearfiul results to the church, the
State, and the home, in thius encouraging women  to enter
public life.  It was the opposition of the clergy to woman's
speaking and voting in their meetings, that occasioned the
first division in "The American Anti-slavery Society."
The reports of the meeting held in New York, May, 1840,
are worthy the perusal of every philosophical thinker, to see
how ridiculously even good conmmon-sense men can talk and
act when moved by prejudice rather than principle.
The question under debate on that occasion wvas, whether
woman should speak and vote in all business matters in their
meeting,s.  Menl opposed to this went through the audience
tiriizg everfy qvoman who agreed with themn to vote ag,ainst it,
thus calling on them to do then and there what, withl feivid
eloquence, on that very occasion, they had declared a sin
against nature and Scripture for them to do anywhere.  It
367 
368    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
was a stormy meeting held that day by the friends of the
slave, and, though he still groaned in bondage, it was urged
by many that woman's voice should not be heard in his behalf. Whilst with one hand they strove to loose the chains
that clanked on the rice plantations in Georgia, with the other
they tried to force woman back into the narrow niche where
barbarism had found her.  So partially does truth illutmine
some minds that even the colored manl was found voting, to
exclude woman from an anti-slavery organization.  IHistory,
however, records that William Lloyd Garrison, ever sound on
questions of human rights, carried the resolution by one hundred majority in favor of woman's right to speak and vote in
their meetings.  At this crisis a World's Anti-slavery Convention was called to meet in London.  Several American organizations saw fit to send women as delegates to represent them
in that august assembly.   But, after going three thousand
miles to attend a World's Convention, it was discovered that
woman formed no part of the constituent elements of the
moral world.
In summoning the friends of the slave from all parts of the
two hemispheres, to meet in London, John Bull never dreamed
that woman, too, would answer to his call, though the idea of
immediate emancipation was first published by Elizabeth Herrick, an English woman, in a well-reasoned pamphlet in 1824.
Accordingly, on the opening of the convention ill London,
June 12th, 1840, the delegates from the Massachusetts and
Pennsylvania societies were denied their seats.  The delegation consisted of Lucretia Mott, Mary Grew, Abby Iimbner,
Elizabeth Neale, Sarah Pugh, from Peinnsylvania; Emily
Winslow, Abby Southwick, and Anne Greene Phillips, firom
Massachusetts. This sacrifice of human rights, by men who
had assembled from all quarters of the globe to proclaim
universal emancipation, was offered up in the presence of
such women as Lady Noel Byron, Harriet Martineau, Eliza 
ANNE GREENE PHILLIPS.
beth Fry, Mairy Howitt, and Ainna Jamieson.   The dele-gates
had been persuasively asliked to waive their claims that the
harmony of the convention might not be disturbed by a qutestion of such minor importance.  But through theii champion,
Wendell Phillips (who was then a youngI man, and brave
too, I thought, to advocate so unpopular an idea almost alone in
such an assembly), they maintained that as they had been
delegated by large and influential organizations, they must
press their claims and thus discharge their duty, not only to
those whom they represented, but to the speechless victims
of American slavery.  Thus the debate on this question was
forced upon them, and many distinguished gentlemen of
France, England, and America took part in the discussion,
which lasted through one entire day.
ANNE GREENE PHILLIPS.
As we stood in the vestibule of Freemason's  Hiall that
morning, talking over the coming event, I saw the wife of
Wendell Phillips for the first time. Her earnest, impressive
manner arrested my attention at once. She had just returned
from her bridal tour on the continent. and was in the zenith
of        her beauty.  She had a profusion of dark-browvn hlair,
large, loving blue eyes, and regular features.  She was tall,
graceful, and talked with great fluency and force. Hlerwhole
soul  seemed to be in the pending issue.  As we were about
to enter the convention she laid her hand most emphatically
on  he   r husba nd's shoulder and said, " Now, Wendell, don't be
simmy-sammy to-day, but brave as a lion;" and he obeyed the
injunction.   Most of the speeches that day were narrow and
bigoted, setting forth men's prejudices without touching the
principle under consideration, and, when the vote was taken,
among the few who stood by principle, were Daniel O'Con            24
369 
370    EMI,NENT WOMEN OF THE AG,E.
nell, Dr. Bowring,, Henry B. Stanton, George Thompsoin,
and Wendell Phillips.  William Lloyd Garrison did not reach
England until the third day of the convention, having been
unfortunately becalmed at sea.  When he learned that Massachusetts women had been denied their rights in the convention he declined to take his seat as a member of that body.
His anti-slavery principles being too broad to restrict human
rights to color or sex, he took his seat in the gallery, and
through all those days looked down on the convention.
Thomas Clarkson was chosen president, but he being too old
and feeble to endure the fatigue, Joseph Sturge, the celebrated Quaker merchant, presided over the deliberations.
Sitting near Mrs. Mott in the convention, I miscievously
suggested to her one day a dangerous contingency.    With a
Quaker in the chair," said I, "suppose, in spite of the vote of
excommunication, the spirit should move you to speak, what
couldthe chairman do, and which would you obey, - the spirit, or the convention?"  She promptly replied, "Where the
spirit of God is, there is liberty."  The general indignation
felt by the advanced minds among the women of England,
France, and America, and the puerile tone of the debates on
this question, gave birth to what is called the Woman's Rights
movement on both continents. The women of En,gland soon
after established a Woman's Rights journal, and petitioned
Parliament for their rights of property.  Their demands were
ably maintained by Lord Brougham in the House of Peers.
The French women, too, soon after established a journal, so
liberal and republican in its sentiments, that they were compelled to publish it in Italy, though it was clandestinely circulated in France.  At the same time Frederika Bremer, in
her popular novels, was ridiculing the creeds and codes and
customs of her country, and thus undermining, the laws of
Sweden in regard to women, which, in many particulars, were
soon after essentially modified  
'-~ 
LUCRETIA MOTT.
LUCRETIA MOTT.
It was in London that I first met Lucretia Mott.   We
chanced to stop at the same house, with a party of Americans, who had comne to attend the "World's Convention."
Seated by her at the dinner-table I was soon oblivious to
everything but the lovely Quakeress, though a bride, with
my husband by my side. She was then in her prime, small
in stature, slightly built, with a large head, high, square forehead, remarkably fine face, regular features, dark hair and
eyes.  She was gentle and refined in her manners, and conversed with earnestness and ease. There were several clergymen at the table that day, who, in the course of conversation, rallied Mrs. Mott on her views of woman.   She calmly
parried all their attacks, -now by her quiet humor turning the
laugh on them, and then by her earnestness and dignity silencing their ridicule and sneers.  Though a stranger, I could not
resist saying all the good things I thought on her side of the
question, and I shall never forget the look of recognition she
gave me when she saw that I already comprehended the problem of woman's rights and wrongs. She was the first liberalminded woman I had ever met, and nothing in all Europe
interested me as she did. We were soon fast firiends, and
were often rallied on our seeming devotion to each other.  I
was never weary listening to her conversation.   On one
occasion, with a large party, we visited the British Museum,
where it is supposed all people go to see the wonders of the
world.  On entering, Mrs. Mott and myself sat down near the
door to rest for a few moments, telling the party to go on,
that we would follow.  They accordingly exl)lored all the
departments of curiosities, supposing we were slowly following at a distance; but when they returned to the entrance,
after an absence of three hours, there we sat in the same
I
371 
EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
spot, having seen nothing but each other, wholly absorbed in
questions of tlheology and social life.  She had told me of
the doctrines and divisions among QuLakers, of the inward
lilght, of Elias I-Iicks, of Chlanning, of a religion of life, and
of Marly WVollstonecraft and her social theories.  I had been
reading, Coni)e's Constitution of MIan, and Moral Philosophy,
and Channing's Works, and had already thotught on all these
questions; but I bad never heard a woman talk what, as a
Scotch Presbyterian, I had sca.rcely dared to think.  On the
following, Sunday I went to hear Mrs. Mott preach in a
Unitarian church.  Though I had never heard a woman speak,
yet I had long believed she had tlhe right to do so, and hlad
often expressed the idea in private circles; butt when at last
I saw a woman rise up in the pulpit and preach as earnestly
and impressively as Mrs. Mott always does, it seemed to me
like the realization of an oft-repeated happy dream.
The day we visited the Zoo5log,ical Gardens, as we were
adcmiring the gorgeouts plumage of some beautiful birds, one
of the gentlemen remarked:   You see, Mrs. Mott, our Heavenly Father believes in
brig,ht colors.  How mulch it would take from our pleasure
if all the birds were dressed in drab!"
Yes," said she, " but immortal beings do not depend on
their feathers for their attractions.  With the infinite variety
of the human ftace and form, of thoulght, feeling, and affection, we  do not need gorgeotis apparel to distilgutlishl us.
Moreover, if it is fitting that womran should dress in every
color of the rainbow, why not man also?  Clergymeln wvithl their
black clothes and white cravats are quite as monotonous as
the Quakers."
Owing to her liberal views, Mrs. Mott was shunned by the
Orthodox Quakers of England, though courted by the literati and nobility.  I have seen her by the side of the Duchess  of Sutherland, conversing on the political  questions
372 
LUCRETIA MOTT.
of the time with a grace and eloquence that proved her in
manners the peer of the first woman ill Englacnd, though educated inl Quaker austerity, under ovr plain republican institutions.   From  the following extracts from  Mrs.  Mott's
memoranda, the reader will get aln insi,ht into the movinig
and governing principles of her calm, consistent, and beautiful life.
EXTRACTS FROM MIEMORANDA, BY LUCRETIA MOTT.
A native of the Island of Nantucket, - of the Coffins and
Macys on the father's side, and of the Folgers on the mother's; through them related to Dr. Franklin.
Born in 1793.  During childhood was made actively useful to my mother, who, in the absence of my father, ol  a
long voyage, was engaged in mercantile business, often going
to Boston and purchasing goods in exchainge for oil and
candles, the staple of the island.  The exercise of womeni's
talents in this line, as well as the general care which devolved upon them in the absence of their husbands, tended
to develop their intellectual powers and streingthlen  them
mentally and physically.
" In 1804 my fathler's family removed to Boston, and in the
public anld private schools of that city I miingled with  all
classes without distinction.  My parents were of the religious society of Friends, and endeavored to preserve in their
children the peculiarities of that sect, as well ias to instil its
more import,ant principles.  My father had t desire to mnake
his dau,ghters useful.  At fourteen years of age I was placed
with a yoLunger sister, at the Friends' Bo.arding-Slchool, in
DuteliessColunty, State of New York, and continued there for
more than two years wvithlout returiingi home.  At fifteen,
one of the teachers leaviong the school, I was  chosen as an
assistant, in her place.  Pleased with the promotion, I strove
373 
374    LMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
hard to give satisfaction, and was gratified, on leaving the
school, to have an offer of a situation as teacher, if I was
disposed to remain, and informed that my services should
entitle another sister to her education without chaige.  My
father was, at that time, in successful business in Boston;
but with his views of the importance of training a woman  to
usefulness, he and my mother gave their consent to another
year being devoted to that institution.   In the sl)riiig of
1809, I joined our family ill Philadelphia, after thleir removal
there.   At -the early age of eighteen, I  mirried Jamies
M'ott, of New York, - an attachment formed while at the
boarding-school.  He came to Philadelphia and entered into business with my father.  The ftletutation in the commercial world for several years following our marriage, owing,
to the embargo, and the war of 1812, the death of my
father, and the support of a f-amily of five children devolving
on my mother, surrounded us with difficulties.  We resorted
to various modes of obtaining a comfortable living; at one
time engaged in the retail dry goods business, then resumed
the charge of a school, and for another year was e,ngaged in
teaching.  These trials, in early life, were not without their
good effect in disciplining the mind, and leading it to set a
just estimate on  worldly pleasures.  I, however,  alwatys
loved the good, in childhood desired to do the right, and
had no faith in the generally received idea of human depravity.  My sympathy was early enlisted for the poor slave, by
the class-books read in our schools, and the pictures of the
slave-ship, as published  by Clarkson.   The  ministry  of
Elias Hicks and others, on the subject of the unrequited
labor of slaves, and their example  in refusing the products of slave labor, all had their effect in awakening a
strongO feeling in their behalf.  The unequal condition of
woman in society also early impressed my mind.  Leatriiing,
while at school, that the charge for the education of girls was 
LUCRETIA MOTT.
the same as that for boys, and that when they became teachers, women received but half as much as men for their services, the injustice of this was so apparent, that I early
resolved to claim for my sex all that an impartial Creator
had bestowed.  At twenty-five years of age, surrounded
with a little famlily and many eares, I felt called to a more
public life of devotion to duty, and engag(ed in the ministry
in our Society, receiving every encourag,ement from those
ill authority, until a separation among us, in 1827, when my
convictions led me to adhere to the sufficiency of the light
within us, resting on truth as authority, rather than'taking
authority for truth.'   The popular doctrine of human depravity never commended itself to my reason or conscience.
I'searched the Scriptures daily,' finding a construction of
the text wholly different from that which was pressed upon
our acceptance.  The highest evidence of a sound fithl being
the practical life of the Christian, I have felt a far greater
interest in the moral movements of our age than in any
theological discussion.
The temperance reform early engaged my attention, and
for more than twenty years I have practised total abstinence
from all intoxicating drinks.  The cause of peace has had a
share of my  efforts, leading to the ultra non-resistance
ground, - thlat no Christian can consistently uphold, and
actively engage in and support a government based on the
sword,  or relying on that as an ultimate resort.   The
oppression of the working-classes by existing monopolies,
and the lowness of wages, often engaged my attention; and
I have held many meetings with them,  and heard their
appeals with compassion, and a great desire for a radical
change in the system which makes the rich richer and the
poor poorer.   The various associations and communities
tending to greater equality of condition have had from me a
hearty God-speed.  But the millions of down-trodden slaves
375 
376    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
in our land being, the greatest sufferers, the most oppressed
class, I have felt bound to plead their cause, in season and
out of season, to endeavor to put my soul in their souls'
stead, and to aid, all in my power, in every righ,t effort for
their immediate emancipation.  This duty  was  impressed
upon me  at the time I consecrated myself to that gospel
which anoints'to preach deliverance to the captive,''to set
at liberty them that are bruised.'  From that time the duty
of abstinence as far as practicable from slave-grown products
was so clear, that I resolved to make the effort'to provide
things honest' in this respect.  Since then our fmtrnily has
been supplied with free-labor groceries, and, to some extent,
with cottonI goods unstained by slavery.  The labors of the
devoted Benjamin LunIdy,  and his'Genius of iUniversal
Emancipation' published in Baltimore, added to the untirilng
exertions of Clarkson, Wilberforce, and others in Ellgland,
including Elizabeth Heyrick, whose work on slavery aroused
them to a change in their mode of action, and of WVilliam
Llolyd Garrison, in Boston, prepared the way for a convention in Philadelphia, ill 1833, to take the ground of immediate, not gradual, emancipation, and to inmpress the duty of
unconditional liberty, withlout expatriation.  In 1834 the
Philadelphia Female A. S. Society was formed, and, being
actively associated in the efforts for the slaves' redemption, I
have travelled thousanlds of miles in this country, holding,
meetings in somne of the slave States, have been in the midst
of mobs and violence, and have shared abundantly in the
odium attached to the name of an uncompromising mnodern
abolitionist, as well as partaken richly of the sweet return
of peace  attendant on those who would'undo the heavy
burdens and let the oppressed  go free, and break every
yoke.'
"In 1840, a World's Anti-slavery Convention was called in
London.   Women from Boston,  New  Yorle,  anrd Phila 
LUCRETIA MOTT.
delphia, were delegates to that convention.  I was one of the
number; but, onl our arrival ill England, our credentials were
not accepted because we were women.  WAVe were, however,
treated with great courtesy and attention, as stiangers, and
as women, were admitted to chosen seats as spectators and
listeners, while our right of membership was denied, -we
were voted out.  This brought the Womian question more
into view, and an increase of interest in the subject has been
the result.  In this work, too, I have eingaged heart and hand,
as my labors, travels, and public discourses evince.   The misrepresentation, ridicule, and abuse heaped upon this, as well
as other reforms, do not, in the least, deter me from  my
duty.  To those, whose name is cast out as evil for the truLth's
sake, it is a small thing to be jucldged of man's judgmenit.
This imperfect sketch may give some idea of the mnode of
life of one who has found it'good to be always zealously
affected in a good thing.'
i My life, in the domestic sphere, has passed much as that
of other wives and mothers in this country.  I have had six
children.  Not accustomed to resi,gning, them to the care of a
nurse, I was much conlfined to them dulring their infaicy
and childhood.  Beingo fond of reading, I omitted much unnecessary stitching and ornamental wvork, in the sewing for
my fanmily, so that I might have more time for this indulgelnce, and for the improvement of the mind.  For  novels
and lilght reading I never had much taste.  The'Ladies
Department,' in the periodicals of the day, had no attraction
for me."
While walking in the streets of London, Mrs. Mott and I
resolved on a Woman's Convention, as soon as we returned
to America.  Accordingly, in the summer of 1848, while
she was on a visit to her sister, Martha Wright, of Auburn,
I proposed to her, to call a Woman's Rights Convention, at
377 
378   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Seneca Falls, where I then lived.  She consented, and the
call was immediately issued in the county papers, an(l we at
once prepared resolutions, speeches, and a declaration of
sentiments.  After much consultation over the declaration,
finding, that our fathers had similar grievances to our owvn,
and the same number, we decided to adopt the immortal declaratiou of'76 as our model. James Mott - one of nature's
noblemen, both inl character and appearance, the huslband of
Lucretia -presided at this first convention.  Among those
who took part in the discussions were Frederick Douglass,
Thomas and Mary Ann MeClintock, and their two daugh-tters,
Ansel Bascom, Catharine Stebbins, Amy  Post, and Martha
Wrig,ht.  It continued through two days, was well attended,
and extensively reported.  The declaration was published in
nearly every paper in the country, and the nation was colnvulsed with laughter, from  1Maine to Louisiana, thou,gh our
demands for suffrage, the right to property, work, and wages
were the same that wvise men accept to-day, the same that
Henry Ward Beecher preaches in his pulpit, and John Stuart
Miill presses on the consideration of the British Parliament.
Martha Wright, the sister of Lucretia, took an active part in
this convention, and has presided over nearly every convention that has been held iln later days.   She is a woman of
fine presence, much general information, and rare common
sense.  Though not a public speaker, she hais been a most
efficient worker in our cause.  In a recent letter to me,
speakingc of her sister, soon after the death of Mr.I MIott, she
says, "The strikingl traits of Lucretia's character are remarkable energy, that defies even time, unswerving onlscientiousless, and all those characteristics that are summed up in the
few words, love to man, and love to God."  "Though much
broken by the heavy affliction, that has come to her so unexpectedly, for, frail as she is, she never thought she should
survive her strong and vigorous husband, she has borne it 
CAROLiNE M. SEVERANCE,
better than we anticipated."  Our next convention was  held
in Rochester, a few weeks later.  Mrs. Amy Post and Mis.
Abig,ail Bush made the arrangemenits, and Mrs. Bush presided
on the occasion.  Mrs. Mott and I were opposed to a woman
as president, - this was a step we were not quite prepared for,
to have a woman  call a promiscuous assembly to order.
However, we were out-voted, and we were compelled to admit,
at the close, that Mrs. Bush did us all great credit.   The
meetings  were held in the Unitarian church,  and created
much interest in the city.  One very interesting, incident occurred during the moring, session.  A newvly married couple,
soon after the convention opened, walked slowly up the aisle
to the altar, when the groom stepped forward, and asked the
president, in a low tone, if the lady with him might have the
opportunity to speak.  "Passing through the city," he said,
they heard of the convention, and haviing but anl hour before
leaving, town, she would like to add her voice ill favor of
woman's righlts."  She was accordingly introduced at once,
and made a most eloquent and finished speech of twenty
minutes.  Whilst she  was speaking, the groom remained
standing near the altar, hat and cane in hand, reverently gazing on his beautiful bride.  When she finished, a profound
silence reigned, and they disappeared as quietly and suddenly
as they came.   Who they  were, whence they came, or
whither going, we never knew.
In 1850 and 1851 several State Conventions were held in
Indiana and Ohio.  At the convention held at Indianapolis,
the moving spirits were Frances D. Gage, and Caroline M.
Severance.  In a brief sketch of
CAROLINE M. SEVERANCE
I cannot do better, than to give the reader, what, in her easy,
playful way, she writes in a letter to me of herself. I wrote
379 
380    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
to her asking for facts of her life, telling her there was no
escape, that nolens volens she was to be sketched, and it
rested Nwith her, whether it should be based wholly on such
ail objective view, as one could take hundreds of miles away,
or on a subjective view, such as I could get ill being en rctpport withl herself.  She chose the latter, as the least of tvwo
evils, and frankly tells me what she knows of herself.
DEAR FRIEND, - -Isn't this an interesting dilemma to
find one's self in? - to be exhibited whether we will or no!
One who has arrived at years of discretion, surely, in our
free land, to have no chance of a choice, whether to remail
incog., or be set on high for all the daws to peck at!'But
to this it seems we have come at last,' and, in my extremity,
if I may choose nothing else, I surely shall snatch at the
chance to say by whom  this most undesirable service shall
be performed, and I gladly submit to you.'
"I have done so little to justify my years, that I might
shrink from such a sketch as you propose, with better reason
than could influence many of our sex.  But lest you should
think my humility affectation, I frankly avow that I was
born in Canandaiguia, N. Y., in January, 1820, if you consider date and birthplace important to the sketch, of neither
"poor or pious parents," although cultivated, conscientious
persons.  MIy father's name was Orson Seymour, a banker,
my mother's name was Caroline M. Clark.  I was married
in 1840, at Auburn, New York, to T. C. Severance, a banker of
Cleveland, Ohio.  Neither the world nor my historian would
have any particular interest in what I said, or did, after that
remarkable event of January 20th, and the good sense of
choosing so beautiful a portion of the earth's surface for a
birthplace, until the mother of five children, with littlo
experience in life, and less in society, having devoted myself
to home and books, I was chosen, in 1853, to read beforo 
CAROLINE M. SEVERANCe.
the Mercantile Library Association, the  first lecture ever
delivered by a woman,  in Cleveland, Ohio, where I had
resided since marriage.  I had been already identified with
the Woman's PRighlts movement, having attended conventions
in Illdiana, Ohio, and New York; and this accounts for mily
invitation on this occasion.  I cannot tell you how long I
hesitated to accept this invitation; the more I 1plead my unfitness, the more I was pressed with a sense of my duty, and at
last I wrote the most exhaustive essay I could on the sublject,
to make sure, for once, that my city should have all that could
be said on the subject. An i.mmense audience listened, thlrough
an houtr and three quarters, with becoming silence and respect.
This lecture I repeated several times, in different parts of the
State.  After that, the Womanl's Rights Association asked
me to prepare a tract for their circulation. Later I was
appointed to present a memorial to the Legislature, askilng
suffrage, and such amendments to the State laws of Ohio as
should place woman on a civil equality with man.   In 1855
we camie to Mlassachusetts, the home of my heart always, and
here I have done nothing, deserving the puntisilment of public
exposure, that I now remember  against myself, ulntil, as one
of the lecture committee of the Fraternity Association, it
became my duty to assist in seclring lecturers for the course.
We invited Mrs. Stanton, but, she failing us at the last momenet, I was not alble to resist the entreaties of the commnittee,
and the obli,gation I felt myself under, to make good her
place, so far as in me  lay.  That was, I believe, the first
lecture ever delivered in Boston before a Lyceum Association
by a woman.  I will not tell you how prosy and dull I fear
it was, but I klnow it was earnest, and well considered, and
dear Mirs. Follen's, anld Miss Peabody's beaming eyes, kept
me in heart all throug,h, as they glowed with interest before
me from below the platform of Tremont Temple H.iall.  Since
then, from want of health and voice, I have not spoken much
. 381 
382   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
in public, though I have given soul service, in many direc.
tions, standing as correspondingt secretary for the Anti-slavery
Society, one of the Board of Manag(ers to the New England
Female Medical College, and reading a course of private lectures on practical ethics, before Dio Lewis' school of girls.
These lectures cover the relations of the young woman to the
school, the State, the home, and her own complete development.  As a mother, I am  happy to say that my sons and
da,ughlters have never disgraced, and I see no reason to believe,
ever will disgrace, my name, or bring in question, my influence
over them, or my fidelity to them. Pure in heart, noble in
all their tastes and tendencies, they are my joy in the present,
my hope in the future, and my best legacy to it.  Here you
have me, my good friend, in a nutshell.  Not multumn in
parvo, it must be confessed.
"Yotirs, sincerely, C. M. S."
Mrs. Severance now resides ill West Newton, Massachusetts, where she is living a quiet life, in a beautiful home.
She is using her pen in a way she hopes will some day prove
a means of broader influence.  In manners and appearance,
Mrs. Severance is very attractive.  She has a handsome face
and figure, dignified carriage, and fine conversational powers.
She is an amiable, affectionate, conscientious woman, faithful
alike in her private and public duties.
FRANCES D. GAGE.
Born October 12th, 1808, in Marietta, Washington County,
on the banks of the Muskiuguml, Ohio.  HIer fatther, Joseph
Barker, was a native of New IHampshire, and an early pioneer
to the western wilds.  Throtugh her mother, Elizabeth Dana,
she was allied to the distitnguished Massachusetts families of
Dana and Bancroft.  A  log cabin in the woods, was the
seminary where Frances Barker acquired the rudiments of 
FRANCES D. GAGE.
education.  And, though she had few early advantages, she
became a sound thinker, a good  writer of both prose and
verse, and one of the most effective speakers in the country.
She was born with a sound mind in a sound body.   1ier
large, wvell-balanced head, and strong physical development
imade learning and hardships alike easy for her to surmount.
Iler father was a farmer and cooper, and the duties of a fitrmler's daLughter, in a new country, were all cheerfully and
easily disposed of b)y her.  She assisted her father in mnaking
barrels, and I have heard her oftell tell that, as she would
roll out a well-imade barrel, her father would pat her on the
head, and say, "Ah, Fanny, you should have been     a boy!"
Fanny had a kind and loving nature, and early felt tl:he most
intense sympathy for the flugitives from slavery.  Her tenderness and chlarity for these despised people often subjected
her to the ridicule of her young companions.   She became
famili'irized with their sufferings and wants, in her frequent
visits to her grandmother, Mrs. Mary Bancroft Dana, whose
home was on the Ohio River, opposite Blennerhasset's Island.
At the age of twenty-one she married James L. Gage, a
lawyer of iMcConnellsville, Ohio,- a man of great humanity
and moral integrity.  With a family of eilght children, and
all the hardships of that Western life, Mrs. Gage still found
time, through all those years, to read, and write for leadingo
journals, and often to speak, too, on temperance, slavery,
and woman's rights.  As she stood almost alone on these
questions, she was often subject to ridicule and persecution.
Those who have never advocated an unpopular idea -who
have not made principle, rather than policy, their guiding,
star - catnnot appreciate the peculiar trials of those who are
true in word and action to their enlightened conscientious
opinions.
In 1851, Mrs. Gage attended a "Woman's Rights Convention," in Akron, Ohio, and was chosen president of the
3S3 
384    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
meeting,. Her opening speech, on that occasion, is remark.
able for its common sense, and a pathos peculiarly her own.
Ill 1853 she moved to St. Louis.  Those  who fought the
anti-slavery battle in Massachusetts cannot realize the danger
of such a warfare ill a slatve-hlolding State.  WTith her usual
franlk utterances of opinions, she was soon1 branded as an
abolitionist, her articles excluded from the journals, and she
from   good society," with daily threats of violence to her
person and the destruction of her property.  Three disastrous fires -the work of incendiaries, no doubt- greatly
reduced the resources of the family.  Owing to her husbland's
ill health, and failure in business, she took the post of assistant editor of an agricultural paper in Columbus, Ohio; but
as the breaking out of the war soon destroyed the circulation
of the paper, and four of her sons had gone into the army,
her thoughts turned to the scenes of conflict in the Southern
States.  The "sutffering freedmen" and the " l)oys in blue"
appealed alike to her loving, heart for kindness and help; and,
without appointment or salary, she went to Port Royal in
1862.  She remained in Beaufort, Paris, and Fernandina
thirteen months, ministerling alike to the soldiers and freedmen, as opportunity offered.  Ptages might be written on the
heroism of Mrs. Gage and her daughter Mary  dutring tlhis
period.  Oppressed with the magnitude of the work to be accomplished there, shle returned North, to give her experiences
acquired among  thle freedmen,  hoping  to rouse  others,
younger and stronger than herself, to go down and teich
those neglected people the A  B C of learning and social
life.
During, this year she travelled throulgh many of the northern States, speaking nearly every evening to Soldiers' Aid
Societies.  She worked without pay, only asking enotugh to
defray her expenses.  When the summer days made lecturing impossible, she went as an unsalaried agent of the Sani 
FRANCES D. GAGE.
tary Commission down the Mississippi, to Memphlis, Vicks
burg, and Natchez.   In the month of September she was
overturned in a carriage at Galesburg, Illinois, which crippled
her for that year. As soon as she recovered she was em ployed and well paid by various temperance organizations
to lecture for that cause; and she was thus occupied, when
her plans for future activity and usefulness were suddenly
terminated by a stroke of paralysis, in August, 1867.  She
has since been confined to her room, though able to walk
about, read, and write.  A visit to her sick-room is always
pleasant and profitable, and everything, fromn her pen breathes
a swveet spirit of love to man and trust in God. In appearance, Mrs. Gage is large and vigorous, has a good, benevolent face, easy manners, and a varied fund of conversation.
She is capable, as her life shows, of great self-denial and
heroism.   She is an extemporaneous speaker, - a talker
rather than all orator,- and never fails to interest and hold
an audience. There is no woman in the country who can
speakli so readily, without preparation, on so many different
subjects, as i[rs. Gage.  She has taken a prominent part in
niost of the National Woman's Rights Conventions, and, but
for her illness, would have spoken all through Kansas in
the last campaign.
In reply to my letter, asking her for some facts relating
t      o  our  Woman's Rights    movement, she writes me from her
sick-room:- -
"459 SIXTH AVENUE, NEW YORic.
"DEAR MRS. S.,-Your letter is before me.....   I
have little to say; yet I remember the first convention. I
was travelling East, with my husband, and was at Buffalo
that very day, and longed to be with you. The next conventions were held in Indiana and in Ohio in 1850.. I remember, too, emanating, from the Salem Convention was a
25
25
385
I 
386    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
mnemorial, drawn up by Mary Ann Johnson, asking that the
words'white male' should be omitted firom the constitution, which was that year to be given to the State.  I also
drew up a memorial, askinlg for the equal rights of woman
before the law, and that the words'white male' should be
stricken from the constitution.  I did not know Mrs. Johnson, and we had no communication with each other.  Those
memorials were presented by the member from my district;
the subject was vehemently discussed, and voted upon.  Nine
votes were given for striking out the word'male' and
eleven for striking out'white.'  I think this was the first
memorial ever presented in any State asking suffrage for
woman.   From 1849 to 1855 I lectured on this subject iii
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, Louisiana, Mas.sachusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York, and wrote volumes
for the press. Many of the most earnest spirits in Kansas
were from Ohio, Indiana, Iowa, and Illinois, and helped to
form the public opinion that gave woman, in that State, a
right to vote on temperance and education, and laid the
foundation for its present advanced position. Excuse my
palsied hand and brain. I am still very feeble, and write
with difficulty.
Under the nomme de plume of "Aunt Fanny," Mrs. Gage
-has written many beautiful stories for children, stanzas, and
:sketches of social life.  She wvas an early contributor to the
"'Saturday Visitor," edited by Jane G. Swisshlelm, and has
lately written for the New York "Independent."  A  volume
of poems, and a temperance tale, "Elsie MaIg,oon," are the
last of her published works.  By her own efforts, Mrs. Ga,ge
Pas accumulated enoligh to secure to herself and her children
-a pleasant home for her old age.
" Yours,
"Fp,.ANCEs D. GAGE." 
ABBY HUTCHINS O.N.
In April, 1850, a convention was held in Salem, Ohio.
J. Elizabeth Jones, Mary Ann  Johnson,  and Josephine
Griffing were the leading spirits,' all women  of  highl
moral character and intellectual cultivation.   Mary  Anti
Johnson had lectured to large audiences  throughouit the
country on physiology.  Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Griffing were
both able writers and speakers. These women circulated
petitions in that State, and addressed the Legislature demanading womanl's right to her property, wages, children,
and the elective franchise. In the reports of this convention
we find mention made of Maria L. Giddings, daughter of
Joshua R. Giddclings, who presented an able report onl the
laws; of Sojourner Truth, Mrs. Stowe's Lybian Sybil, for
forty years a slave in New York, and of the Hutchinson family, who enlivened the occasion with their songs.
Among the representative women of the nineteenth century,
ABBY HUTCHINSON
deserves a passing notice.  She was born in Milford, 1New
Hampshire, one of a larg,e family of children.  Early in
the  anti-slavery  cause,  she,  with  four  brothers,  began to sing ill the conventions. Inll all those stormy days
of mob violence the Hutchinson family was the one harmonizing clement.  Like oil on the troubled waters, their
sweet songs would soothe to silence those savages whom
neither appeal nor defiance could awe. Abby made her first
appearance in public at an early ag,e.  Anti-slavery, woman's
rights, temperance, peace, and democracy have been her
themes, - singing, alike in the Old World and the New.   To
farmers  on New England's granite hills, to pioneers on
the far-off prairies, to merchant princes in crowded cities,
and to kings, queens, and nobles, in palaces and courts, have
those girlish lips sung the republican anthem, " All men are
created equal." She was a girl of strong character and a nice
387 
388    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sense of propriety in all things.  Although until her marriage
her life was wholly a public one, yet she never lost the
modesty, delicacy, and refinement so peculiarly her own.
She was slightly formed, graceful, with a bright, happy face,
and most pleasing manners.  She had a fair complexion, dark
eyes and hair, teeth like rows of pearls, and in fact might be
called beautiful.  Her voice, though not of great compass and
variety, was full, rich, deep, and well modulated.
All admit that "the Hutchinson family" have acted well
their part in the cause of reform, and a second generation
is singing still. When Abby retired from the stage her
mantle fell on her niece Viola, who, having just married, will
probably share the fate of her aunt, being according to
Blackstone, wholly absorbed in another, and we shall hear
from her no more.
The first national convention was held in Brinley Hall, Worcester, Massachusetts, October 23d, and 24th, 1850. This was
the first thoroughly or,ganized, and ably sustained convention,
for which extensive preparations were made, as the women
of the country had learned by that time what was necessary
to make a convention a success. Above three hundred persons, men and women, enrolled their names as members.
Among them we find William IH. Channing, E.  D. Draper,
Frederick Douglass, Thomas Earle, Welldell Phillips,
William Lloyd Garrison, Parker  Pillsbury, Charles Burleigh, Hannah Darlington, Sarah Tyndall, Sarah R. May,
S.C. Sargent, C. NI. Shaw, Ellen and Marion Blackwell,
'Mary Adams, and Sojourner Truth.  The proceedings of this
convention were remarkable for their earnestness and ability.
The reports, published both in England and America, ill all
the leading journals, first drew the attention of Mrs. John
Stuart Mill to this subject, and prompted her able article in the
Westminster Review " on" The enfranchisement of women."
Paulina Wright Davis was chosen president of the conyen 
ANTOINETTE BROWN.
tion. Her opening address, an hour in length, was a very con
cise, and able presentation of the work to be done, and the
manner of doing it.
In this convention every phase of the question was discussed,- work, wages, property, education, and suffrage,by the ablest men and women in the country. After this,
National Women's Rights Conventions were held annually
in the different States of New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Ohio, and as the result the laws in these States
were essentially though slowly modified. This simultaneous
movement in every State, the unanimity of thought and feeling among  the ablest women in the country, the  striking
similarity in the appeals, petitions, resolutions, and speeches,
all prove this claimn for woman to be one of those great ideas
that mark an era in human progress, and not the idiosyncrasy of a few unbalanced minds.
ANTOINETTE BROWN
Was  born  in  Henrietta,  Monroe  County,  New  York,
May 20th, 1825. At the age of nine years she joined
the Congregational church, and sometimes spoke and prayed
in the meetings.  In childhood  she often expressed the
wish that she might become a preacher.  At the age of sixteen, she taught school during the summer, and attended the
academy in Henrietta during the winter. In 1844 she went
to Oberlin performing alone her first journey by canal and
stagec, to Uegin the experience of college life.  While there
she taught several branches in the seminary, in order to pay
the expenses of her collegiate course. In 1846 she taught
in the academy in Rochester. There her first lecture was
delivered, in accordance with the custom of the male teachers,
to address the pupils and visitors at the close of the terms.
Her vacations at Oberlin had been passed in extra study of
389 
390   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Greek and Hebrew. It was here she and Lucy Stone had
first met, and formed a friendship that has strengthened with
their years.  Here they fought together the battles of woman's
rights with the students and professors, and sustained each
other under all the peculiar hardships of their position'.  As
they afterwards married brothers, and purchased homes in
New Jersey, their lives have moved on harmoniously together.
In 1846 she returned to Oberlin to go through a three
years' course ill theology.  For some time the Bible argument on the ministrations of woman had been with her a
subject of serious and prayerful consideration.   It was customary for the students to receive a license to preach, and
before finishing their course they would often speak in the
pulpits of the neighborhood.
When Miss Brown asked this license, the professors were
grievously exercised.  But after much thoiught and consultation they decided " that she was a resident graduate, pursuingi the theological course, but not a member of the theolog,ical department, and, consequently, she needed no license
from the institution, but must preach or be silent on her
own responsibility."
Like General Jackson, she took the responsibility, and
preached often in different parts of Ohio, while pursuing her
theological course of studies.
After quitting Oberlin she spent four years in private reading and study, preaching and lecturing on various reforms.
In 1850 she attended the convention inl Worcester, Massachusetts, and made a speech on the enfranchisement of woman.
She preached whenever and wherever opportunity offered,
without regard to sect, -alike in the church at Andover,
Music Hall, in Boston, or public halls in Worcester, Cincinnati, and New York.  In 1853 she was ordained pastor of a
Congregational church in South Butler, Wayne County, New
York. The Rev. Luther Lee, Wesleyan minister of Syray 
ANTOINETTE BROWN.
euse, preached the ordination sermon.   Gerrit Smith and
Samuel J. May took part in the ceremonies.
"Then," says MAIrs. Blackwell, in a note to me recently,
"Dr. Cheever openly branded me and my South Butler
Church as infidels; and the New York'Independent' sustained him, and would only publish a crumb of my reply."
We  are happy to say that our noble young friend, Theodore Tilton, was not then editor of that journal.
Miss Brown remained in South Butler but one year, owing
to ill health from excessive labor, and painful doubts concerningltheological doctrines.  As soon as she was re-established in health of body and mind she lectured on reformatory
subjects in Cincinnati and elsewhere, and investigated the
character and causes of vice in New York, with especial reference to its bearing on woman. The year 1855 was spent in
this interesting though painful work, and she published in the
New York Tribune" a number of sketches from life, under
the title " Shadows of our Social System."
In 1854 she was a delegate from the Wayne County Society to the World's Temperance Convention, at which Neal
Dow presided, in New York.  But she was denied her seat,
simply because she was a woman.  Wendell Phillips and
WVilliam H. Channing made eloquent speeches in favor of
her admission, and she took the platform herself and essayed to speakl, but such was the noise tand confusion with
tongues and canes, and the swaying of the audience to and
fro, that all attempts on her part were unavailable.
From the liberal state of public sentiment to-day one can
hardly believe it possible that, thirteen years ago, men claiming to be Christian ministers could have so rudely treated a
beautiful, highly-educated young girl, a member of the same
church with themselves, because she asked that her name
might be enrolled with theirs in a WVorld's Temperance Con
39.I 
392   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
vention, - that she, too, migTht raise her voice ill the metropolis
of the nation against the vice of drunkenness.
In January, 1856, Miss Brown married Samuel Blackwell.
Thou,gh she occasionally speaks, still most of her time is
passed at home in the care of a family of dau,ghters.  It is
said she is writing on theological questions for future publication.  Mrs. Blackwell is a close, untiring student.   She
writes and speaks with ease, has a logical and well-stored
mind, and is a woman of pleasing manners and address.
LUCY STONE
Was the first speaker who really stirred the nation's healrt on
the subject of woman's wrongs.  Young, magnetic,,eloquent,
her soul filled with the new idea, she drew immense audiences,
and was eulogized everywhere by the press. She spoke extemporaneously, having no special talent as a writer. ier
style of speaking, was earnest, fluejut, impassioned appeal
rather than argument.  She excelled in telling touching incidents and amusing anecdotes. I well remember my pleasure
the first time I heard her. It was at a Temperance Convention in Rochester, in 1853. A resolution was before the convention, asking of the Legislature a law granting divorce for
drunkenness. Lucy took the affirmative; and, although the
question was ably debated in the negative by Mrs. C. H. I.
Nichols and Antoinette Brown, yet Lucy carried the audience with her.
She was born in West Brookfield, Massachusetts. Her
parents were rigid Presbyterians, and trained up their children in an austere manner.. She, however, early queried with
herself as to the wisdom of existing laws, customs, and opinions. She could not see the justice of her brother's being
sent to college to enjoy all the advantages of edrication, while
t 
LUCY STONE.
she and her sisters remained at home to work on the farm.
The yoke on her own neck galled her to action.  She decided
that she, too, would go to college and have a liberal education.
The question was thoroulghly pondered and debated, and at
last decided.  She borrowed the money and went to Oberlih, vlwhere, with great economy, management, self-denial, and
untiring application to her studies, she graduated with high
honors.   Having discovered her talent for oratory in the
debating society at Oberlin, she decided to fit herself for a
public speaker.
On her return to New Eingland she became an agent of the
American Anti-slavery Society, lecturilng alternately for the
slave and woman.  She travelled through the AWestern and
some of the Southern States, speaking in all the large cities.
In 1855 she was married to Henry B. Blackwell.  Thomas
W~. Iligginsoin performed the ceremony.   She accepted the
usual marria,ge under protest,-her husband renoulllciig all
those rights of authority and ownership which were his ill law,
and she retainiing her own name.  Although this h,s been to
her a source of great annoyance and persecution, from friends
as well as ellemnies, yet, feeling that the principle of woman's
individualism was involved in a lifelong name, she has steadily
adhered to her decision.  I honor her for her steadfast pridciple.
The first thing the slave does in freedom is to take to himself a name.  Having been Cuffy Lee, or Cuffy Davis, just
whose Cuffy lhe might chance to be, as soon as he is his own
master he takes a new name that is henceforth to represent
his individual existence.  Why wonder that a Oman, believing, in her own individual existence, who had distinguishlied
her name the world over, should refuse to be so entirely swallowed up in another as to lose even the lnamel to which she
had answered for thirty years?  I remember I had the same
feelings when I was married, though young and unknown, and,
393 
394    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
although I took my  husband's name,  I retained my  own
also.
The name of Lucy Stone is prominent in all the early
National Conventions, as she was Secretary of the Woman's
Rights organization for many years.  Mrs. Stone is small,
with dark-brown hair, gray eyes, fine teeth, florid complexion,
and has a sparkling, intellectual face.  Iler voice is soft, clear,
and musical; her manner in speaking is quiet, niakiug but
few gestures, and usually standilng in one place.   Gerrit
Smith told me once, with great glee, that sitting on the platform when Lucy was speaking, he saw her several times
gently stamp her foot!
Mrs. Stone has one daughter, and since her marriage her
life has been spent in retirement, until the news that Kansas
was to submit the proposition to strike the words "white
male" from her Constitution to a vote of the people, roused
her again to public duty.  She spent two months in the spring
of 1867 travelling through that State, speaking to larg3
audiences. She attendcled the Topeka Conlvenltion, at the formation of the "Kansas Impartial Suffrag,e Association," and has
lectured during the past winter on suffrage for woman in Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York.
MRS. CAROLINE H. DALL.
Born in Beacon Street, Boston.   She is more  distinguishled
as a writer than speaker, thlloug,h she has lectured on various
subjects in many parts of the country.  I1er addresses are
uniformly w$1  written, and show great research, and unltiring,
industry.  MIrs. Dall is a highly educated wonlan, a close
student, an encyclopedia of historical facts and statistics.
Her reports, read in the annual Woman's Ri,ghts Conveiiti(mns,
of the pro,gress of the movement, are most valluale and interesting papers.   She has published several books under the 
MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS.
title, " WVoman under the Law," "Woman's Right to Labor,"
"The Court, the College, and the Market." All her productions have been extensively reviewed and complimented by
the press.  In speaking of her last work, "The New York
Evening Post" says:
Mrs. Caroline H. Dall's well-known book,' The College,
the Market, and the Court,' has been issued in a new edition,
which contains important additions, some corrections, an index, and some notes on the unfortunate Dr. Todd, who was
lately so shockiingly mangled by Miss Gail Hamilton.   Mrs.
Dall's book has been very well spoken of abroad, as indeed
it deserves, - for it is the most eloquent and forcible statement of the Woman's Question which has been made."
MIany persons, now writing and speaking on this subject,
glean their facts from her books, and without always giving
credit where it is due.  Mrs. Dall has been an active member
in the Social Science Association, and read many valuable
papers in their public meetings, both in Boston and New
York.  She was associated with Paulina Wright Davis, in
The Una, "- a woman's rights paper, published at Boston in
1854, - and has taken a prominent part in some of the MIassachusetts Conventions.  She married a Unitarian clergyman,
wvho has been a missionary for many years in Calcutta.  Mrs.
Dall's department of thought is in the region of facts.  Not
capable of generalization, her mind does not deal in principles, hence the conclusions she draws from  her facts are
sometimes neither legitimate nor philosophical.
MRS. C. I. H. NICHOLS.
In Kansas, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Nichols in
1867.  She is a native of Vermont, but went to the West
395
v 
396    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
several years ago. She has been in Kansas through all the
troubles in that State, and to her influence, in a measure, is
due its liberal laws for woman.  She was in the first constitutional convention, and pressed woman's claims on its consideration.  Mrs. Nichols is an able writer and speaker, and
is as thoroughly conversant with the laws of her State as any
judge or lawyer in it.  She has taken a prominent part in
all reforms for the last twenty years.  She is a noble woman,
and has borne the hardships of her pioneer life with a heroism that commands  admiration.   For many years,  Mrs.
Nichols ably edited the "Windham County Democrat,"- a
whig, paper, published at Brattleboro', Vermont.   Thou,gh
her articles were widely copied, it was not then known that
they were written by a woman.
SUSAN B. ANTHONY
Was born at the foot of the Green Mountains, South Adams,
Massachusetts, February 15th, 1820.  Her father, Daniel Anthony, was a stern Quaker, her mother, Lucy Read, a Baptist; but being liberal and progressive in their tendencies,
they were soon one in their religion.
Her father was a cotton manufacturer, and the first dollar
she ever earned was in his factory.  Though a man of wealth,
the idea of self-support was early impressed on all the daughters of the family. Iu 1826 they moved into Washilgton
County, Newv York, and in 1846 to Rochester.  She was educated in a small select school, in her father's house, until the
ag,e of seventeen, when she went to a boarditng-school in Phliladelphia. Fifteen years of her life were passed in teaching
school in different parts of the State of New York.
Althouigh superintendents gave her credit for the best-disciplined school, and the most thoroughly taught scholars in 
SUSAN B. ANTHONY.
the county,  yet they paid her but eight dollars a month,
while men received from twenty-four to thirty dollars.  After
fifteen years of faithful labor, and the closest economy, she
had saved but three hundred dollars.
This experience taught her the lesson of woman's rights,
and when she read the reports of the first conventions, her
whole soul responded to the now demand. Her earliest public work was in the temperance movement, where I first met
her in 1851, although she had lectured on that subject, and
formed temperance societies as early as 1848, while teaching
in Canajoharie, N. Y.  In the winter of this year, she called
a State Temperance Convention in Albany.  Mrs. Lydia Fowler, Mirs. Mary Vaughan, and Mrs. Amelia Bloomer all spoke
on that occasion. In May following, she called a Woman's
Temperance Convention in Rochester.  Corinthian Hall was
packed during the proceedings. A State society was formed,
and three delegates - Miss Anthony, Mrs. Bloomer, and Mrs.
MIarv Hallowell - were appointed to attend the Men's State
Temperance Convention at Syracuse, in June. But these
delegates were denied a right in the convention. The very
idea of a woman's society, or a woman delegate, quite upset
the gentlemen of the convention. The clergy, as usual, were
especially denunciatory.
William H. Burleigh, corresponding secretary, in making
out his annual report, hailed the formation of a womana's
society as a powerful auxiliary to the temperance movement,
and he accordingly advocated the recognition of the delegates;
but he was scouted, voted down, and that part of his report
blotted out. Rev. Mr. Lee, of the Wesleyan Church, invited
the ladies to speak in his house in the evening. Tile consequence was, while they had an immense audience, the men's
convention was almost deserted.   Similar attempts were
made by women all over the country, in the temperance associations; but they were uniformly thrust aside, and the result is,
397 
398    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
those old organizations have died out, giving place to the orders
of Good Templars, Rechabites, etc., etc., that gladly affiliate
with woman, in carrying on this important reform. At this
time, Miss Anthony's life and mine became nearly one.  From
my retreat, which I seldom left, being surrounded with a large
family of young children, she and I surveyed, year after year,
the State and the nation.
Wherever we saw a work to be done, we would together
forge our thunderbolts, in the form of resolutions, petitions,
appeals, and speeches, on every subject,- temperance, antislavery, woman's rights, agriculture, education, and religion,uniformly accepting every invitation to go everywhere, and
do everything. Through all those years, Miss Anthony was
the connecting link between me and the outer world, -the
reform scout, who went to see what was going on in the
enemy's camp, and returning with maps and observations to
plan the mode of attack.  Wherever we saw an annual convention of men, quietly meeting year after year, filled with
brotherly love, we bethought ourselves how we could throw a
bombshell into their midst, in the form of a resolution, to
open their doors to the sisters outside, who had an equal
interest with themselves in the subjects under consideration.
In this way, we assailed, in turn, the temperance, educational,
and church conventions, agricultural fairs, and halls of legislation.   We  persecuted the educational  convention for a
whole decade of years, to the infinite chagrin of Professors
Davies, Buckley, and -Hazeltine, whose feathers always ruffled
the moment Miss Anthony, with her staid Quaker face and
firm step, walked up the aisle, always taking a conspicuous
seat, as if to say, Gentlemen, here I am again, to demand
that you recoignize as your equals, the hundreds of women
before you, - teachers, who sit in these conventions, without a
voice or vote in your proceedings. With the aid of such
chivalrous men as Superintendents Randall and Rice, we at 
SUSAN B. ANTHONY.
last triumphed; women were permitted to speak and vote in
the conventions, appointed on committees, and to make
reports on various subjects.  Miss Anthony  herself was
invited to prepare a report on educating the sexes together,
which she read to an immense audience in Troy, in 1858.
At the close of her able report, Mr. Hazeltine came to her
and said, " While I must admit the talent and power of your
report, I would rather see a daughter of mine buried beneath
the sod, than that she should stand before a promiscuous
audience and utter such sentiments."
Superintendent Randall, standing by, replied,'"And I should
be proud if I had a daughter able to do it."  Ini October of
thle same year Miss Anthony delivered the annual address
at the Yates County Agricultural Fair, held at Dundee. She
was to have spoken in the church, but the crowd was so great,
that, with a Itimber-wagon for her rostrum, she spoke an
hour and a half in the open air. Hers is the one voice among
our speakers that never fails to fill the ears of her autdience.
Her address was pronounced the ablest that had ever been
delivered in that county.  Miss Anthony's style of speaking
is rapid, vehement, concise, and in her best moods she is sometimes eloquent. In late years she speaks extemporaneously,
retaining enough of the Quaker to make a failure, except
when strongly moved by the spirit.  But the spirit is always
sure to move when she sees the rights of any human being
outraged. From 1852 she has been one of the leading spirits
in every Woman's Rights Convention, and has been the acting
secretary and general agent through all these years; and
when in 1866 we reorganized under the name of "The American
Equal Rights Association," she was reappointed to both these
offices.  From 1857 to 1866, Miss Anthony was also all agent
and faithfuil worker in the anti-slavery cause until the eman cipation edict proclaimed freedom throughout the land. She
has been untiring in her labors in securing the liberal legisla
399 
400    EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
tion we now have for women in the State of New York.  The
property rights of married women were secured by the bills
of 1848 and 1849. From that time to the present scarce a year
has passed without petitions, appeals, and addresses before our
legislature. In the winter of 1854 and 1855 Miss Anthony held
fifty-four conventions in different counties of the State, with
two petitions in hand,- one demanding equal property rights,
the other the ballot,-and rolled up ten thousand names.  She
performed these fatiguing journeys mostly in stage-coaches in
the depth of the winter.  Miss Anthony, though not beautifiul,
has a fefine figure and alarge, well-shaped head. The world calls
her sharp, angular, cross-grained. She has, indeed, her faults
and angles, but they are all outside. She has a broad ana
generous nature, and a depth of tenderness that few women
possess.  She does not faint, or weep, or sentimentalize; but
she has genuine feeling, a tender love for all true men and
women, a reverence for noble acts and words, and an active
pity for those who come to her ill the hour of sorrow and
trial. She is earnest, unselfish, and true to principle as the
needle to the pole.  In an intimate friendship of eighteen
years, I can truly say, I have never known her to do or say
a mean or narrow thing. She is above that petty envy and
jealousy that mar the character of so many otherwise good
women.  She is always full of the work before her, and does
it, going throtughl and over whatever stands in her way.  She
never sees lions in her path, but does what she is convinced is
right, whether it seems feasible to others or not. Hence she is
impatient and imperious with those who, not seeing the goal
she does, stand in her way. The legislators of this State can
testify to her pertinacity and perseverance.   Those  who
have complained of Miss Anthony's impatience, in pushing our
cause to a speedy success, must remember that without the
cares of husband, children, and home, all her time, thought,
force, and affection have centred in this work for nearly 
SUSAN B. ANTHONY.
twenty years.  She has raised and spent thousands of dollars,
in printing and postage, having scattered documents without
number all over this country and England.  No one knows,
as I do, the untiritng labors of this noble woman in our cause.
WVhat people call cross-grained in her is her quickness in
seeing the right, and her promptness in maintaining it, no
matter who her opposers may be. An anecdote will serve to
illustrate the strong principle, independence, and self-reliance
of her character.  A lady of superior education, the wife and
sister of distinguishled men, was placed in an insane asylum
to be quietly disposed of, that some domestic difficulties
might not be made known. After a two years' incarceration she
was released; but, insisting on separation, and the possession
of her children, she was again threatened, when she appealed
to MIiss Anthony for protection.  She promptly gave her the
necessary assistance, and found a safe retreat for her and her
daughter.  No  threats or persecutions could move her to
reveal the hiding-place of her clients.  Anti-slavery friends on
all sides wrote to her, beagging her to have nothing, to do with
the matter, -that it would injure the reforms she advocated.
Leading men in the State wrote to her that she was legally
liable for abducting a child from its father, and that she would
be arrested some day on the platform in the midst of a speech.
Telegrams and letters of threats and persuasion were poured
on her thick and fast; among others, Mr. Garrison and Mr.
Phillips wrote to her saying, "Do you not know that you are
guilty of a violation of law?"  Yes! " she replied; " and I
know when I feed and shelter a panting fugitive from slavery
I violate law; and yet you would uphold me for violating, the
law in one case; why not the.other? Is a refined, educated,
noble woman, flying from the contamination of an unfaithful
husband, less worthy  of my protection than a black man
flying from the tyranny of his master?"  Of the threats of
arrest fi-om +he presiding officer of the Massachusetts Legisla             2fi
401 
EMINENT W OMEN OF THE AGE.
ture, and an honorable senator of New York, she had no fears,
knowing that, in thus doing, they would make public exactly
what they desired to conceal.
In the autumn of 1867 Miss Anthony went to IKaansas,
where she remained during the campai,gn, which closed so
triumphantly, giving nine thousand votes for woman's suffirage.
In Kansas she met for the first time  George Francis
Train, who had been invited to go there, and stump the
State for woman's  suffrage, by the  "Woman's  Suffrage
Association" of St. Louis.  She travelled with him in Kansas, addressing large audiences, until the day of election,
when I joined her at her brother's house, Mayor D. R. Anthony, of Leavenworth.   We then went to Omaha, to meet
Mr. Train, where we held two meetilngs, and from that point
we came to New York, speaking in all the large cities of nine
States.  Through the influence of this new and noble champion of woman's rights with Wall Street brokers, she was able
to establish" The Revolution," - the first woman's rights paper
in this country, with a name representing the magnitude of
the work,-  on a financial basis that ensures success.
Some odium has been cast on Miss Anthony for this affiliation with these Liberal Democrats; but time will prove her
judgment as sound in this matter as it has been in so many
other points where she has differed from her friends.
OLYMPIA BROWN.
Chief among the women who labored in Kansas in 1867,
are Olympia Brown and Viola Hutchinson, - the one speaking
and preaching, the other singing, her sweet songs of freedom,
in churches, school-houses, depots, barns, and the open air.
Olympia Brown was born in Ohio; she was a graduate of
Antioch college, and went throug,h a theological course at
402 
OLYMPIA BROWN.
Canton, New York.  She is the most promising young, woman
now speaking,in thiscause. Sheissmall,delicately organlized,
and has a most pleasing personnel. She is a graceful, fluent
speaker, with wonderful powers of continuity and concentration, and is oblivious to everything but the idea she wishes
to utter. While in Kansas she spoke every day for four
months, twice and three times, Sundays not excepted.
She is a close, clear reasoner and able debater.  The IKansas politicians all feared to meet her.  One prominent judge
in the State encountered her in debate, on one occasion, to the
utter discomfiture of himself and his compeerS.  By some
mistake their appointments were in the same place.  She,
through courtesy, yielded to him the first hour. He made
an argument to show the importance of suffrage for the negro,
with an occasional slur on woman.  She followed him, using
his own words, illustrations, and arguments, to show the importance of suffrage for woman, much to his chagrin, and
the amusement of the audience, who cheered her from beginnilng to end.  At the close of the meeting a rising, vote was
taken, of those in favor of woman's suffrage. All the audience
arose, except the judge, and he looked as if he would have
givein anythillng if consistence would have permitted him to
rise also.
Mliss Brown is now an ordained pastor of a Universalist
church in Weymouth, Massachusetts, where she receives a
liberal salary, and is honored and beloved by her people.
The space assigned me in this volume is too small for
more than a brief sketch of this cause and its leaders.  As
much odium has been cast on these noble women, I cannot
close without saying, what I feel to be just and true, of all
alike.   It is no  exaggeration to state, that the women
identified with this question are distinguished for intellectual
power, moral probity, and religious earnestness.  Most of
them are able speakers and writers, as their published
403 
404   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
speeches, letters, novels, and poems fully show; those who
have seen them in social life can testify that they are good
house-keepers, true mothers, and faithful wives. I have
known women in many countries and classes of society, and
I know none more noble, delicate, and refined, in word
and action, than those I have met on  the woman's rights
platform.  True, they do not possess the voluptuous grace
and soft manners of the petted children of luxury; they
are not clothed in purple  and fine linen,  faring sumptuously every day, -for most of them are self-made women,
who, through hardships and sacrifice, have smoothed
the rugged paths for multitudes about them, and earned a
virtuous independence for themselves. All praise to those,
who, through ridicule and scorn, have changed the barbarous
laws for woman in many of the States, and brought them into
harmony with the higher civilization in whic(,h we live.
110  
yTh
~ H ~ ~ ~0 ~~ H ii 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
BY JAMES.PARTON.
GREAT BRITAIN wanted a monarch.
James the Second had abandoned his throne, and had been
driven from his country. William and Mary, who succeeded
him were childless, and without hope of offspring. Anne,
seventeen times in her life, gave the kingdom hopes of an
heir, and then disappointed those hopes.  She was childless,
and it was well known to her household that she was destined
to die childless. As it was part of the fundamental law of
the kingdom that the sovereign must be a Protestant, the
son of the exiled king was excluded from the succession.
The English are such slaves to habit and precedent, and the
wars of the Commonwealth were so fresh in the recollection
of the country, that it does not appear to have occurred to a
single individual that the realm of England could be governed unless it could find a person to play sovereign on
certain days of the year, in the show-rooms of St. James'
Palace. America had not yet taught the world the art of
nominating, electing, and deposing chief magistrates.  There
had once been kings in England, and the shadow of one was
felt to be necessary still.
Wanted a monarch.  No Roman Catholic need apply.
This was the problem for the "Heralds" of that day.  In all
the world there was but one person who could rightfully
succeed Queen Anne, and that was an elderly lady known to
0
405 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the people of England as the Princess Sophia, and to the peo.
ple of Hanover as the wife of their sovereign, the elector,
Ernest Augustus.  Iingo James the First left but two children
of the seven who had been born to him. One of these was
the unfortunate Charles the First, who lost his crown and his
head; the other was the Princess Elizabeth, who in due time
married Frederick the Fifth, Elector Palatine, one of the
hundred petty sovereigns of Germany. The Princess Sophia
was the daughter of this pair, and she was married to
Ernest Augustus of Hanover. Being thus the grand-daugohter of James the First, and the wife of a Protestant prince,
her right to the English throne, in case Queen Anne died
without issue, was unquestionable; and hence, in the act
of settlement of 1701, she was declared the heiress presumptive.
She had become a widow, and was living in retirement in
Hanover as Electoress Dowager,- an elderly lady of excellent character, but as little fitted to govern all empire as a
child.  The En,glish, however, did not want any one to govern
an empire.  They meant to do that themselves.  They wanted
some benevolent and good-lookingc, person to wear the robes,
inhabit the palace, and play the part of monarch, in a serene
and dignified manner.   For such purpose the good old
dowager of Hanover might have answered as well a another.
This destiny, however, was not ill reserve for her; for, seventeenl days before the death of Queen Anne, she died, leaving
her son George, the Elector of Hallover, heir to the British
crown.  George Lewis was his name, but he is known ill
English history as George the First.
Thus it was that the present reigning, family came to the
English throne.  Queen Vict )ria reigns to-day because of her
direct descent, through James the First, fiom Mary, Queen of
Scots, the mother of that pedantic king.  On the Hanover
106 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
side, she can claim an ancestry far more ancient, and far
more illustrious than this.
The respect which many persons feel for an old family is
perhaps not quite so unreasonable as some of us republicans
suppose. Time tries all. As a rule, whatever endures long
is excellent of its kind. In families which have long maintained a certain position in the world, we need not look for
brilliant genius, nor splendid courage; but if we inquire
closely into their history, we shall generally find a full development of what may be termed the preservative virtues,prudence and family pride. A family which produces a
genius appears to exhaust itself in the effort, - it passes away
and disappears in the crowd; but where there is robustness of
bodily health with a high degree of prudence and family feeling, a race may endutre for centuries without producing a
single individual of striking merit, or performing any valuable service for mankind.  Nevertheless, there must be in
such a family real worth and real wisdom.  One of the most
admirable provisions among the laws of nature is that one
which dooms a family of incurable fools to certain and swift
extinction.
The family now upon the English throne is one of the oldest in Europe. Among, the mountains which divide Italy
from Germany a powerful house named Welf held great possessions as long ago as the year 1100.  Extending its conquests southward, it ruled some of the finest provinces of
Italy, where the name was changed into Guelph, by wllich it
has ever since been known. The Guelphs, with their impregnable castles among the mountains, drawiing tribute from
e fertile provinces of northern Italy and southern Germany,
appear to have been for a time as wealthy ai(l powerful a
family as any in Europe of less than imperial or royal rank.
It became too powerful.  The Guelphs quarrelled among
themselves. They divided into two factions, one of which
407 
408    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
retained the name of Guelph, and the other acquired that of
Ghibeline, and each of them was powerful enough to maintain an army in the field.  The bloody contest was waged a
vhile among the German mountains.  The family quarrel, as
was usually the case in those days, absorbed into itself public
questions of great pith and moment, until the whole south of
Europe were drawn into the interminable strife.  It was this
famous contest between the Guelphs and the Ghlibelines which
saddened the existence of the poet Dante, and made him for
twenty years an exile from his native city.
When mortals fight, it rarely happens that one party is
wholly in the right, and the other wholly ill the wrong. Both
the Guelphs and the Ghibelines committed enormous outrages.  Neither of them was strong enough to hold the other
ill subjection, and neither was great enough to forgive a fallen
foe.  When the Guelphs conquered a province or captured
a city, they banished the powerfull Ghibelines, and confiscated their estates.  The Ghibelines, when they were victors,
pursued the same policy.  Consequently there were always
a great number of persons, both within and without the conquered place, whose only hope of regaining, their rights and
property was in overturning the government.  Ilence three
centuries of fruitless, desolating war.
But although in this cardinal error of the contest there
was not a pin to choose between the hostile factions, it is
nevertheless evident that the Guelphs were, upon the whole,
fighting the battle of mankind.  Dante was upon'their side,
- a great fiact in itself. Closely allied with the pope, then
the chief civilizing power of Europe, the sole protector of
the people against the tyranny of their lords, the Guelphsd
were greatly instrumental in limiting the power of the emperors, and preventing all the fairest countries of Europe
from lapsing under the dominion of a single dynasty.
It was from these warlike Guelphs of the middle ages that 
YICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
the present royal house of Encgland descended.  Gibbon, indeed, traces the family of Guelph up to Charlemagne; but we
need not follow him so far in the labyrinth of heraldry.  Let
it suffice us to know that a powerful prince of the Guelphian
race, six hundred years ago or more, acquired by marriage
extensive possessions in the north of Germany. This prince
is known in the history of Germahiy as henry the Black.
Other Henries succeeded, - Henry the Proud, IIenry the
Lion, and a long line of hienries, Williams, Othos, Georges,
Snd Ernests, until at length we find a branch of the family
established in Hanover, and ruling that prowince with the
title of elector.
Not much can be said in commendation of the more recent
ancestors of Queen Victoria.  George the First wvas fifty
four years of age when he stepped ashore at Greenwich, and
walked to the royal palace ill its park, hailed and saluted as
King, of England.  Hie was an honest, hearty man, brave and
resolute; but he had an incurable narrowness of mind, and
he was as ignorant of all that a king ought to know as the
kingos of that period generally were.
,lMy maxim is," he used to say, "never to abandon my
friends; to do justice to all the world, and to fear no man."
The saying does him honor.  lIe was a manl of punctual
and business-like habits, diligent in performing the duties appertaining to his I)lace, so far as he understood them.  B]ut,
unhappily, when he left his native country, he left his heart
behind him.  He loved Hanover, and a man can no more
love two countries than two women.  HIe understood Hanover;
he never understood England; and the thing which hlie had
at heart, during his whole reign, was the aggrandizement of
Hanover.  He had the satisfaction of dying in his native
land, which he was accustomed frequently to visit, and his
dust still reposes there in the electoral mausoleum.
His son, George the Second, with all his narrowness and
409 
410   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ignorance, was not without his good and strong points. Like
most of his ancestors, he was honest, well-intentioned, and
brave; and, like most of his ancestors, he was singularly
unfitted to have anything to do with the government of a
great nation. The ornament of his court was Queen Caroline, a patron of art and literature, whom the king loved
truly, and scolded incessantly, whom he sincerely respected
and continually dishonored. The scenes which took place at
the death-bed of this queen show us something of the character of both of the ill-assorted pair.
The king," says a recent writer, "was heart-broken, but
he was himself. He could not leave her in peace at that last
moment. By way of watching over her,'he lay on the
queen's bed all night in his nightgown, where he could not
sleep nor she turn about easily.' He went out and in continually, telling everybody, with tears, of her great qualities.
But he could not restrain the old habit of scolding when he was
by her side.'How the devil should you sleep when you
will never lie still a moment I!' he cried with an impatience
which those who have watched by a death-bed will at least
understand.'You want to rest, and the doctors tell you
nothing can do you so much good, and yet you always move
about.  Nobody can sleep in that manner, and that is always
your way; you never take the proper method to get what
you want, and then you wonder you have it not.'  When
her weary eyes, weary of watching the troubled comings and
goings about her, fixed upon one spot, the alarmed, excited,
hasty spectator cried out, with a loud and quick voice,'Mon
Diets  qu'est ce que vous regardez?  Comment pentt-on fixer ces
yeux comme ca?' he cried.  He tortured her to eat, as miany
a healthful watcher does with cruel kindness.'How is it
possible you should know whether you like a thing or not?'
hlie said. He was half-crazed with sorrow and love, and a
kind of panic. And he was garrulous, and talked without 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
intermission of her and of himself, with a vague historical
sense, as if talking of a life that had come to an end.
"One incident of this death-bed scene is probably without a
parallel in the history of the human race:  She counselled
him to marry again, as he sat sobbing by her bedside. Poor
manl  he was hysterical, too, with grief and excitement.
Wiping his eyes and sobbing between every word, with much
ado, he got out this answer:'-on -j'aurai des mnaitlesses.'
To which the queen made no other reply than,'Ah, moe
.Diezu! cela n'einpeche pas s!'   Criticism stands confounded
before such an incident."
Such was Georg,e the Second, the great-great-grandfather
of the present virtuous sovereign of England.   Such was
the British Court a little more than a hundred years ago.
The eldest son of George the Second, Prince Frederick,
or the Prince of Wales, was stupid even for a prince. He
passed his brief existence in political intrigues with his father's enemies, and in debauchery with the worst of the young
nobility. No good or even graceful action relieves the tedious record of his life.  We need only say of him - for little
else is known - that he embittered his father's days, and that
England was well rid of him before it came his tiurn to play
the part of king,. Georg(e the Third, the grandfather of
Queen Victoria, was the son of this Prince Frederick.
George the Third, who plays so important a part in the
history of the United States, was one of the most virtuous
and most mischievous of kings.  Hie was holnest, charitable,
and temperate; he was as good a father as an ignorant man
can ever hope to be; he was an attentive and affectionate husband; he was a considerate and liberal master and patron.  If
he had been born to the inheritance of a small fairm,- if he
had been a huntsman in Windsor Park, instead of lord of the
castle,- he would have lived happily and wisely, and all his
native parish would have followed him moutrning to the
411 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
tomb.  But alas for England, tax-paying England! it was
his destiny to be styled king, and to indulge all his life the
fond delusion that he really was a king.
With such a father as he had, it is not necessary to say
that his early education was most grossly and shamefully
neglected; and after his father's death, he fell under the influence of men and women who starved his intellect and fed
his pride.  Coming to the throne in his twenty-seconid year,
ignorant of history, ignorant of the English people, totally
unacquainted with the spirit of a constitutional government,
equally obstinate and conscientious, the whole policy of his
reign was erroneous. He displaced William Pitt, and promoted Bute. It was he, and only he, who exasperated into
rebellion the most loyal of his subjects,- the people of the
American colonies. Instead of hailing, with joy the accession of Napoleon to supreme power in distracted France,
instead of aiding him to bring order once more out of the
chaos of that kingdom, instead of being, his hearty fiiend and
ally, as he oulght to have been for England's sake, as well as
for that of France and mankind, he squandered and mortgag,ed deep the resources of the wealthiest empire on earth,
in waging and inciting war against the only man who had it
in him to rescue France and prepare her for a nobler future.
He drove Napoleon nmad; he prepared for him the long,
series  of victories which  wasted  his time, wasted  his
strength, and destroyed the balance between his reason and
his passions.
When George the Third came to the throne in 1760, the
national debt of England was one hundred and thirty millions
of pounds.  The American war raised it to two hundred and
sixty millions.  The insensate warfare against the French
Revolution made it five hundred and seventy millions; and
by the time Napoleon was safely landed in Saint Helena, the
debt amounted to the inconceivable sum of eight hundred
412 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
and sixty-five millions of pounds. It may be safely asserted,
that every guinea of this debt was unnecessary, and all except a few millions of it may be considered the price which
Great Britain has paid, or is to pay, for allowing four such
men as the four Georges of Hanover to occupy the first place
in the government, -a place in which a wise and able man
could do no very radical good, but one in which an incomlpe
tent man may work prodigious harm.
George the Third had fifteen children, of whom all but
two survived him.  Five of these children were sons, and
all of them were robust and vigorous men.  Down to a late
period in the life of George the Third, no throne in Europe
seemed so well provided as his with lineal heirs; and nothing was more improbable than that it should descend to a
daughter of the fourth son, -the Duke of Kent.  The Prince
of Wales, however, had but one legitimate child, the Princess Charlotte, and when she died, in 1817, there was no
probability of her father having other legitimate issue.  The
Duke of York, the second son, a shameless debauchee, also
died without legitimate children. The Duke of Clarence,
the third son, who afterwards reigned as William the Fourth,
had a large family; but, unfortunately, his wife, Queen
Adelaide, was not the mother of them.
Edward, Duke of Kent, the fourth of the king's sons, had
the reputation, in his lifetime, of being the only one of them
who observed the ordinary rules of morality. He is even
spoken of as "austerely virtuous;" an accusation which I
am inclined to believe was groundless; for, if he was so austerely virtuous, he would hardly have left so many debts
behind him for his widow  and  daughter to pay.  Some
allowance must be made, however, for those unfortunate
princes who held the highest rank ill the kingdom, without
having the income of a country gentleman.  This poor Duke
of Kent, although he enjoyed a revenue about as hrge as
413 
414    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
that of the President of the United States, was the feudal
superior of men who had ten and twenty limes that income.
What is wealth in one country is poverty in alnother.  An
Eng,lish prince with four thousand pounds a year is a very
poor man, unless he is a very great man.
To economize his slender resources, the Duke of Kent
resided, for many years, ill Germany. He was living there
in 1817, when the sudden death of the Princess Charlotte,
and her newly born child, made it apparent that, if he lived
to the ordinary age of man, he would one day succeed to the
throne.  This unexpected chainge in his prospects, it is supposed, led to his marriage, in the followigo year, with a German princess, Victoria, the widlow of the Prince of Leiningen,
and a daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg.  We now know
enough of this lady to have a right to believe that she was
a very sensible as well as exemplary woman.
Ere many months, it became evident that the Duchess of
Kent was about to become a mother, and the duke was desirous that the child should be born upon the soil of the
country of which it might be the the sovereign.  One of the
elements in the popularity of George the Third, which none of
his errors ever sensibly diminished, was the fact that he had
been born in England, -a circumstance to which he so
aptly alluded, in a speech at the beginning, of his reign, that
it made an indelible impression upon the country.  It was
natural that the Duke of Kent should desire to secure this
advantage for his unborn child.
Strange to say, this prince ot the blood royal actually
had not money enough for the journey home, and he wrote
to his family for a remittance.  They refuised it, and he was
obliged to borrow the requisite sum from friends ill humbler
life.  At Kensington Palace, in London, on the 24th of May,
1819, the Princess Victoria was born.  As she saw the light
in the pleasant month of May, they named her the May-flower, 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
and so she was called in the family during her infancy.  We
have the note, recently published, which the mother of the
Duchess of Kent despatched to her daughliter, when she heard
the joyfill intelligence.
"I cannot express," wrote the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg,
"how haplpy I am to know you are, dearest, dearest Vickel,
safe in your bed with a little one, and that all went off so
happily.  May God's best blessings rest on the little stranger
and the beloved mother!  Again a Charlotte, - destined,
perhaps, to play a great part one day, if a brother is not born
to take it out of her hands. The English like queens, and
the niece of the ever-lamented, beloved Charlotte will be
most dear to them.  I need not tell you how delighted everybody is here in hearing of your safe confinement.  You know
that you are much beloved inll this your little home."
Three months after, the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg, sent to
her daughter in England the intelligence of the birth of her
grandson, -the Prince Albert of happy memory,  whose
untimely death the Queen of England still laments.
WMhen the Princess Victoria was but eight mionths old, her
father dlied, leaving his widow and her inlfant child nothing
but an inheritance of debt, and a rank in the realm of Britain
which is an inconvenience and a manifest absurdity unless
accompanied with great wealth.  Queen Victoria can doubtless well remember the time when her mother was pestered
with duns, and when her own allowance of playthings was
limited by her mother's poverty. Nor, indeed, considering
her rank, was she ever in very affluent circumstances until
she ascended the throne, - her mother's allowance being only
eight thousand pounds a year, and part of this was expended
in discharging the debts of the Duke of Kent.
The little princess was as well educated and trained as
a child so unnaturally circumstanced could well be.
Do not tease your little puss with learning," wrote her
415 
416    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
grandmother to the Duchess of 1Kent, when the child was
four years of age.  "She is so young still."
And agtiu, when she was seven:  "I see by the English newspapers that his Majesty and
her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent went on Virg,inia
water. The little monkey must have pleased and amused
him.  She is such a pretty, clever child."
We also have a very pleasing glimpse of the princess and
her mother  in the following  passage  by an  anonymous
writer: -
When first I saw the pretty and pale daughter of
the Duke of Kent, she was fathlerless.  Her fair, light form
was sporting, in all the redolence of youth and health, on
the noble sands of old Ramsgate. It was a fine summer day,
not so warm as to induce languor, but yet warm enough to
render the fanning breezes from the laughing tides, as they
broke gently on the sands, agreeable and refireshing.  Her
dress was simple, -a plain straw bonnet, with a white ribl)on
round the crown; a colored muslin frock, looking gay and
cheerful, and as pretty a pair of shoes on as pretty a pair of 
feet as I ever remember to have seen from China to Kamschatka. Her mother was her companion, and a venerable
man -whose name is graven on every human heart that
loves its species, and whose undying famne is recorded ill that
eternal book where the actions of men are written with the
pen of truth -walked by her parent's side, and doubtless
gave that counsel and offered that advice which none were
more able to offer than himself,- for it was William WVilberforce. His kindly eyes followed, with parental interest,
every footstep of the young, creature, as she advanced to, and
retreated from, the coming tide; and it was evident that his
mind and his heart were full of the future, whilst they were
interested in the present." 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
The death of George the Fourth, in 1830, and the accession
of William the Fourth, sixty-five years of age, and without an
heir, though twelve years married, rendered it all but certain
that the Princess Victoria, a graceful girl of eleven, would
one day be called to the throne. Until then, we are told,
she was not herself aware of the destiny before her; but had
been reared in every respect like any other child of an intelligent family of respectable but limited fortune.  She became a highly interesting object both to her family and the
people of England.   The queen has lately published the
cordial letter which her grandmother wrote to congratulate
her mother upon the eleventh birthday of the princess:
My blessings and good wishes for the day which gave you
the sweet blossom of May!  May God preserve and protect
the valuable life of that lovely flower from all the dangers
that will beset her mind and heart!  The rays of the sun are
scorching at the height to which she may one day attain. It
is only by the blessing of God that all the fine qualities he
has put into that yoting soul can be kept pure and untarnished. How well I can sympathize with the feelings of
anxiety that must possess you when that time comes!  God,
who has helped you through so many bitter hours of grief,
will be your help still. Put your trust in him."
A few months later, when Parliament had named the
Duchess of Kent to the regency of the kingdom, in case the
king should die before the princess came of age, the same
kind grandmother wrote:
"I should have been very sorry if the regency had been
given into other hands than yours. It would not have been
a just return for your constant devotion and care to your
child if this had not been done.  May God give you wisdom
27
41 A' 
418   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and strength to do your duty, if called upon to undertake it.
May God bless and protect our little darling! If I could
but once see her again!  The print you sent me of her is not
like the dear picture I have. The quantity of curls hide
the well-shaped head, and make it look too large for the
lovely little figure."
And so her childhood passed away. She had, of course,
the usual retinue of instructors, and went the usual round of
lessons and recreation. The mighty Lablache gave her instr'uction in singing; and the queen says of him that he was
not only one of the best actors and singers ever seeii in En,gland, "but a remarlkably clever, gentleman-like man, full of
anecdotes and knowledge, and most kind and warm-hearted.
The prince and queen had a sincere regard for him."  That
she should acquire a familiarity with the three lainguag,e.s,
Engl,ish, German, and French, was scarcely to be avoided,
since German was the native language of her mother, English the language of her country, and French the languiage of
courts.  In the volumes which she has recently given us,
there are several specimens of the queen's drawing, from
-which we may infer that she acquired enough of this art for
the occasional illustration of a private diary.
The most interesting event, perhaps, of her minority,,at least, the most interesting to herself,- was her first interview with her cousin of Coburg, Prince Albert. From the very
birth of these children, their marriage by and by was distinctly contemplated; and, as time went on, it became the
favorite project of the grandmother of the cousins, the Duch ess of Saxe-Gotha, whose affectionate letters have been
quoted above. William the Fourth, it appears, had other
views for his niece, and did his best to prevent the meeting
of the cousins. But a grandmother and a mother, in affairs
of this kind, are more than a match for an uncle, even though 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
that uncle wears a crown. So when Prince Albert anla the
Princess Victoria were seventeen years of age, the prince
came to England, accompanied by his father and brother.
Both the young people were aware of the i)enevolent intentions of all the German members of their filnmily, and each
had been in the habit of dreaming of the future in accordance
with those intentions.  They were well pleased with one
another on this occasion. Prince Albert, accustomed to the
quiet routine of a German duke's younger son, was equally
amazed and fatigued by the gorgeous life of the English
court. The late hours were particularly disagreeable to him,
as well they might be.
" My first appearance," he wrote, "was at a levee of the
king's, which was long and fatiguing,, but very interesting.
The same evening we dined at court, and at night there was
a beautiftil concert, at which we had to stand till two o'clock.
The next day the king's birthday was kelyt.  We  went, in
the middle of the day, to a drawing-room at St. James'
Palace, at which about three thousand eight hundred people
passed before the king and queen, and the other high digni taries, to offer their congratulations. There was again a
great dinner in the evening, and then a concert which lasted
till one o'clock.  You can well imagine I had many  hard
battles to fight against sleepiness during these late entertain ments.
The day before yesterday, Monday, our aunt gave a brilliant ball here at IKensingtoii Palace, at which the gentlemen
appeared  in uniform, and  the ladies  in so-called f,ancy
Iresses.  We remained till four o'clock.  Dukle William of
Brunswick, the Prince of Orange and his two sons, and the
Duke of Wellingitonl were the only guests that you will care
to hear about.
"Yesterday we spent with the Duke of Northumberland,
419 
420   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
at Sion, and now we are goingo to Claremont.   Fromn thisi
account you will see how constanitly engaged we are, and that
we must make the most of our time'to see at least some of
the sights in London.  Dear aunt is veV kind to us, and
does everything she can to please us; and our cousin also
is very amiable. We have not a great deal of room in our
apartments, but are nevertheless very comfortably lodged."
The queen has since recorded her recollections of the prince
at the time of this visit:
"The prince was at that time much shorter than his brother,
already very handsome, but very stout, which he entirely
grew out of afterward.  He was most amiable, natural, unaffected, and merry; full of interest in everything; playing on
the piano with the princess, his cousin; drawing; in short,
constantly occupied. He always paid the greatest attention
to all he saw, and the queen remembers well how intently he
listened to the sermon preached in St. Paul's, when hlie and
his father and brother accompanied the Duchess of Kent and
the princess there, on the occasion of the service attended by
the children of the different charity schools. It is indeed
rare to see a prince, not yet seventeen years of age, bestowing, stich earnest attention on a sermon."
After a stay in England of some weeks, Prince Albert returned home, and resumed his studies.  Each of the cousins
was highly prepossessed in favor of the other.  Indeed, the
princess seems to have made up her mind, on this occasions
that, if public policy forbade her marrying her cousin Albert,;she would never marry at all.
The eighteenth birthday of Princess Victoria, which was
May the 24th, 1837, when she attained her legal majority,
was celebrated throughout the British Empire as a national
I 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
festival, and her health was toasted by a million merry circles of loyal Englishmen.  Almost on that very day, IKing
William the Fourth, then in the seventy-second year of his
age, was stricken with mortal sickness.  He lingered four
weeks, and then expired.  It was on a fine morning in June,
as early as five o'clock, that the Archbishop of Canterbury
communicated the intelligence to Victoria, and saluted her as
Queen of England.  Later ill the day, the Ministry, the Privy
Councillors, and a hundred of the principal nobility, assembled in Keinsington Palace to witness the formal proclamation
of the youthful queen.
" WVe publish and proclaim," shouted the herald, "that the
high and mighty Princess Alexandrina Victoria is the only
lawful and liege Lady, and, by the grace of God, Queen of
the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Defender
of the Faith."
Until this moment, it is said, the young queen had maintained her self-possession; but on hearing these tremendous
words, the realization of so many hopes and fond imarginings,
she threw her arms about her mother's neck and sobbed.
She recovered herself in a few nioments, and then the Duke
of Sussex, the youngest son of George the Third, and the
head of the English nobility, advanced to pay his homage by
bending the knee.  Her good sense and good feeling revolted against an absurdity so extreme.
Do not kneel, uncle," she said, " for I am still Victoria,
your niece."
I1er bearing on this most trying occasion was eminently
becoming; and, a few weekls later, when she prorogued Parliament in person, and spoke the royal speech from the
throne of the House of Lords, she conciliated every heart by
her modesty and self-possession.
There was a circle of relations in Germany for whom these
events possessed the deepest interest. The letter which
421 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Prince Albert wrote to congratulate his cousin upon her accession was creditable to his taste and feeling. He was then
a student at the University of Bonn, from which he wrote,
June 26th, 1837:
"MY DEAREST COUSIN, -I must write you a few lines to
present you my sincerest felicitations on that great change
which has taken place in your life.
"Now you are queen of the mightiest land of Europe, in
your hand lies the happiness of millions.  Mlay Heaven assist
yd.u, and strengthen you with its strength, in that high but
difficult task! I
I hope that your reign may be long, happy, and glorious,
and that your efforts may be rewarded by the thankfulness
and love of your subjects.
" LMay I pray you to think likewise sometimes ot your
cousins in Bonn, and to continue to them that kindness you
favored them with till now. Be assured that our minds are
always with you.
"I will not be indiscreet and abuse your time.  Believe
me  always your MAajesty's most obedient and faiithful servant,                                            ALBEPRT."
Queen Victoria was crowned at Westminster Abbey about
a year after her accession, -June the 28th, 1838.  It would
be easy to fill many of these pages with accounts of a ceremonial which has increased in splendor as it has diminished
in significance.  The whole ceremony was founded upon the
belief that the  Sovereign represented  the Majesty, and
wielded the power, of the great God of heaven and earth. So
long as this belief was real and unliversatl, the ceremony of
the coronation, and all the complicated state and etiquette
of royal life, was not altogether wantingo in propriety.  It was
the attempt of rude and barbarous men to express their rude
422 
YICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
and barbarous conceptions of the divine government, and the
sacredness and awfulness of even its poor human representative.  But people no longer believe that ally special divinity
resides in, or is represented by, the convenient ducal houses
of Germany, from which England borrows a monarch utpon
occasion.  We need not dwell therefore upon the extremely
laborious and expensive way in which the English of modern
times get the crown placed for a few  seconds  upon  a
sovereign's head.
She was queen, then, at;length.  She was the central fig(ure
of a fiction as splendid as the IKenilworth  of  Sir Walter
Scott, and all the world looked with interest upon its gorgeous illusions.  In those years of her blooming youth she
seemed to the imaginations of men the most brilliant and
most enviable of human beings.  Nevertheless, she has recently told us, that she was far from happy at that time.
She could not, at first, quite reconcile her mind to be a
fiction.  Inheriting something of the obstinacy of her race,
she desired to have her own way in some matters in which a
constitutional monarch must be submissive. She had a particular prejudice against the tories, -  not merely  against
their  principles,  but  against  their persons, -  and  this
prejudice an unhlackneyed girl of nineteen was not likely
to conceal.   On  the  other  hand,  she  was  e.cessively
fond of the whigcs, and particularly of the good-natutred
premier, Lord  MIelbourne, who  had advised and guided
her during the first anxious moments  of her reign.  She
carried  these  prejudices  so  far, that Lord  MIcll)ouI,-e
himself, although at the head  of the f.tvored party, remonstrated with her ulpon the subject, iand advised her to forgive and conciliate the tories.  Then a-gain, beingt wairm in
her friendships, she  could not endure the idea of parting wvith
some of the ladcies about her person, when thle tories came into
power.  She was  very restive in this affair, and it was
423 
424    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
long before she could bend her will to the hard necessity of
losing the society of her friends for reasons purely political,
over which she had no control.
The strangest part of her conduct was, that, as soon as she
became her own mistress, she ceased to correspond with her
handsome cousin in Germany.   With reference to this subject the queen has written: -
"The only excuse the queen can make for herself is in the
fact that the change from the secluded life at Kensington to
the independence of her position as Queen Regnant, at the
age of eighteen, put all ideas of marriage out of her mind,
which she now most bitterly repents. A worse school for
a young girl, or one more detrimental to all natural feelings
and affections, cannot well be imagined than the position of
a queen at eighteen, without experience and without a
husband to guide and support her. This the queen can state
from painful experience, and she thanks God that none of her
dear daughters are exposed to such danger."
Prince Albert wvas naturally uneasy at her silence. A
young man of twenty-one must not long delay to choose a
career.  So far, his life had been shaped by a secret but confident expectation that he would one day be the consort of
his cousin Victoria, and if this was not to be his destiny, it
was necessary to seek another.  Impatient to know his fate,
he came to England in October, 1839, resolved to bring the
matter to a conclusion. Three years had passed since the
cousins had seen one another.
When last they had met, she was a girl of seventeen, living
a retired life at Kensington Palace, with her mother and her
tutors, with little retinue and less ostentation. Hie was but a
lively lad, not grown to his full stature, and unbecomingly
fat.  But now how different were they both!
It was half-past seven in the evening of October the 10th,
0 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
1839, when Prince Albert and his brother ali,ghted at the
principal entrance of Windsor Castle, one of the grandestlooking, royal residences in Europe.  At the top of the staircase, the queen "herself met them in evening attire, and
invested with the dignity which the very title of queen seems
to carry with it.  Nor was the change in him less striking in
a maiden's eyes. The prince had grown tall, symmetrical, and
handsome. That down upon his upper lip of three years before was now an elegant mustache.  He had become a man.
There was also in his countenance, we are told, a gentleness
of expression, and a smile of peculiar sweetness, with a
look of thlloug,ht and intelligence in his clear blue eye, and fair,
broad forehead, which conciliated every one who looked upon
him.  He was the very prince of romance, -just the hero
wanted for the dazzling fiction of which Victoria was the
gentle heroine.
His fate was decided promptly enough. The queen was
delilghted with his appearance and bearing.   She conducted
him herself to her mother.  It was about dinner-time when
they arrived, and yet they could not dine with the queen that
night, for a reason which the queen herself explains:  Their
clothes not havingc, arrived, they could not appear at dinner,
but came in after it in spite of their morningo dresses."  There
was a large company of lords and ministers staying at the
castle then, and the etiquette of the dinner could not be
dispensed with, even in favor of these young, princes.
Four days sufficed! On the fourth day after the arrival of
the prince, the queen told Lord Melbourne that she had
made iup her mind to marry him.   The minister said he was
very glad to hear it, and that he thought the news would be
well received.
" You will be much more comfortable," added Lord Mel
bourne, in his simple, fatherly manner; " for a woman cannot
stand alone for any time in whatever position she may be."
425 
426   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE'.
Accordin,gly, on the following day Prince Albert came in
from hunting at the unusually early hour of twelve, for he
had received an intimation the eveningo before that the queen
had somethingo particular to say to him.' On being sum
moned to the queen's presence he found her alone. Precisely
what occurred onl the occasion will never be known.  It seems,
however, that it devolved upon the queen to propose the
momentous question.   The following is the prince's version
of what passed, as given in a letter to his grandmother:
"The subject which has occupied us so much of late is at
last settled. The queen sent for me alone to her rooni a few
days ago, and declared to me in a genuine outburst of love
and affection that I had gained her whole heart, and would
make her intensely happy if I would make her the sacrifice
of sharing her life with her, for she said she looked on it as
a sacrifice.  The only thing which troubled her was that she
did not think that she was worthy of me.  The joyous openness of manner in which she told me this quite enchanted me,
and I was quite carried away by it.  She is really most good
and amiable, and I am quite sure Heaven has not given me
into evil hands, and that we shall be happy together. Since
that moment Victoria does whatever she fancies I should wish
or like, and we talk together a great deal about our future
life, which she promises me to make as happy as possible.
Oh, the future! does it not bring with it the moment when I
shall have to take leave of my dear, dear home, and of you?
I cannot think of that without deep melancholy taking possession of me."
As soon as the interview was over, the queen, according to
her custom, recorded her feelings in her diary.
"How I will strive," she wrote, in the first gush of tender
emotion, "to make him feel as little as possible the great sacrifice he has made I I told him it was a great sacrifice on his 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
part, but he would not allow it.  I then told him to fetch Er
nest (his brother), who congratulated us both and seemed
very happy.  Ernest told me how perfect his brother was."
The same afternoon, she wrote to her Uncle Leopold,
Icingy of the Belgians, who had fiom the first favored the
match most wvarmnly. This letter is highly creditable to the,
good, simple heart of the maiden queen:
" iMy mind is quite made up, and I told Albert this morning of it.  The warm affection he showed me on learning this
gave.me great pleasure.  He seems perfection, and I think
that I have the prospect of very great happiness before me.
I love him 10ORE than I can say, and shall do everythingi in
my power to render this sacrifice (for such in my opinion it
is) as small as I can.  Ile seems to have great tact,- a very
necessary thing in his position.  These last few days have
passed like a dream to me, and I am so much bewildered by
it all that I know hardly how to write; but I do feel very
happy.  It is absolutely necessary that this determination of
mine should be known to no one but yourself and to Uncle
Ernest until after the meeting of Parliament, as it would be
considered, otherwise, neglectful on my part not to have
assembled Parliament at once to ilform them of it."
To which the good old king replied, very sensibly and
happily: -
"In your position... you could not EXIST without
having a happy and agreeable'inte6rieur.'  An)d I am mulch
deceived (which I think I am not), or you will find in Albert
just the qualities and disposition which are indispensable for
your happiness, and which will suit your own character, temper, and mode of life.  You say most amiably that you coInsider it a sacrifice on the part of Albert. This is true in many
427 
428    EMINENT WOMEN OF. THE AGE.
points, because his position will be a difficult one; but much,
I may say all, will depend on your affection for him.  If You
love him, and are kind to him, he will easily bear the bothers
of his position, and there is a steadiness, and, at the same
time, a cheerfulness in his character which will facilitate this."
Nothing remained but to announce the intended marriage
to the Privy Council, and through the council to the country.
The council met, November 23d, to the number of eighty, in
one of the large rooms of Buckingham Palace, the queen's
London residence. It devolved upon the queen herself to
make the announcement to this formidable company.
"Precisely at two," the queen wrote in her diary, "I went
in.  The room was full, but I hardly knew who was there.
Lord MAelbourne I saw looking kindly at me with tears in his
eyes, but he was not near me.  I then read my short ~eclaration. I felt my hands shook, but I did not make one mistake.
I felt most happy and thankful when it was over. Lord
Lansdowne then rose, and, in the name of the Privy Council,
asked that'this most gracious and most welcome communlication might be printed.' I then left the room, the whole thing
not lasting above two or three minutes.  The Duke of Cambridge came into the small library where I was standing and
wished me joy."
The queen wore a bracelet in which there was a portrait of
Prince Albert, and she says in her journal, "It seemed to
give.me courage at the council."
On the 11th of February, 1840, at the royal chapel of St.
James, in London, in the presence of all that was most disting,uished and splendid in the life of Great Britain, the marriage was solemnized.  The queen, as brides generally do,
looked pale and anxious. Her dress was a rich white satin,
trimmed with orange blossoms, and upon her head she wore
a wreath of the sante beautiful flowers. Over her head, but 
VICTrORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
not so as to conceal her face, a veil of Honiton iace was
thrown. She was sparingly decorated with diamonds. She
wore, however, a pair of very large diamond ear-rings, and a
diamond necklace. Her twelve bridesmaids were attired in
similar taste, and they wera all young ladies of remarkable
beauty.  Prince Albert was dressed in the uniform of a British field-marshal, and was decorated with the collar and star
of the Order of the Garter. At the moment when the queen
and prince advanced to the communion-table, and stood before the Archbishop of Canterbury, the scene was in the highest degree splendid and interesting. But its splendors seemed
to fade away before the majestic simplicity of the marriage
service. There was really a kind of sublimity in the plainness and directness of the langruagce employed:
"Albert, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded
wife?" and "Victoria, wilt thou have Albert to be thy wedded husband?" and "Who givet~ this woman to be married
to this man?"
To this last question the Duke of Sussex replied by taking
the queen's hand and saying, "I do." Perhaps some in the
assembly may have smiled when the Queen of England promised to obey this younger son of a German Duke, and when
he said, "With all my worldly goods I thee endow."  The
queen tells us, however, that she pronounced the word obey
with a deliberate intent to keep her vow, and that she kept it.
There was, of course, the wedding, breakfast at Buckingham Palace, which was  attended by the royal family, the
ministry, the maids of honor, and other personal attendants
of the queen and prince. Soon after seven o'clock iu the
evening, the royal chariot dashed into Windsor with its escort of lifeguards, amid the cheers of the whole population
of the town. The honeymoon was spent at Windsor Castle.
Prince Albert gave himself entirely up to the duties of his
position and gradually relieved the queen from the burdens
420
I6 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
of royalty. At first, he was not present at the interviews
between the queen and lher ministers, unless specially invited,
but after a year or two he was present as a matter of course,
and the queen invariably acted in accordance with his advice.
He was, ill fact, as much IKing of England as though he had
been born to the title. He said himself, in a letter to the
Duke of Wellington, declining the command of the army,
that his principle of action was "to sink his own individual
existence in that of his wife,- to aim at no power by himself
or for himself, -to shun all ostentation, - to assume no separate responsibility befoire the public." Desiring, he added,
to make his position a part of the queenl's, he considered it
his duty " continually and anxiously to watch every part of
the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist
her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult
questions brought before her,- sometimes political, or social,
or personal, - as the natural head of her family, superintendent of her household, manager of her private affairs;  her
sole confidential adviser in politics, and only assistant in her
communications with the officers of the government."
To his father, he wrote, a few months after his marriage:
Victoria allows me to take much part ill fo)reign affairs, and
I think I have already done some good.   I always commit
my views to paper, and then communicate them to Lord
Melbourne.  He seldom answers me, but I have often had
the satisfaction of seeing him act entirely in accordance with
what I have said."
And ag,ain, in the following year: "I study the politics of
the day with great industry, and resolutely hold myself aloof
from all parties.  I take active interest in all national institutions and associations.   I speak quite openly with the
ministers on all subjects, so as to obtain information, and
meet on all sides with much kindness.... I endeavor
$
4.30 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
quietly to be of as much use to Victoria in her position as I
Call. "
Provided thus with a mate so suitable and so efficient, the
life of Queen Victoria did not essentially differ from that of
any other wife and mother of rank in England, except that
it was a thousand times happier than married life usually is
ill any rank.  Happiness in married life depends upon several thing,s; but its fundamental condition is, the hearty
acceptance and patient, cheerful discharge of the ditties of
the position.  This condition was nobly complied with by this
fortunate pair.    lhenl the queen was urged to assert her
authority as head of the house and nation, since her husband
was but one of her subjects, she was not for an instant deceived by such sophistry.  She would reply, that she had
solemnly promised at the altar to obey her husband, and that
she would never consent to limit or refine away the obligation.
Both of them thus accepting the duties which nature and
circumstances had assigned them, and each having for the
other a genuine respect and affection, they were as happy as
people.can rationally expect to be in this world.
November 21st, 1840, the princess royal was born.   Two
days after, the prince wrote to his father: "Victoria is as
well as if nothing had happened.  She sleeps well, has a good
appetite, acnd is extremely quiet and cheerful."  The queen
was soon able to record in her ditary, which she did with a
full heart, that during, the time of her confinement "his care
and devotion were quite beyond expression."  And  (,gain:
"No one but himself ever lifted her from her bed to her sofa,
and he always helped to wheel her on her bed or sofa into
the next room.  For this purpose he would come instantly
when sent for from any part of the house. As years went
on, and he became overwhelmed with work  (for his attentions were the same in all the queen's subsequent confinements), this was often done  at much  inconvenience to
431 
432    EMINENT WOMEN OF THITE AGE.
himself; but he ever came with a sweet smile on his face. In
short," the queen adds, "his care of her was like that of a
mother, nor could there be a killder, wiser, or more judicious
nurse."
Both the parents were for a moment disappointed that
their first-born was not an heir to the throne. They had not
long, to wait for consolation. The following is a list of their
children:
1. Victoria, the Princess Royal, - now the wife of the heirapparent to the throne of Prussia, - born November 21st,
1840.
2. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, heir-apparenit, born
November 9th, 1841.
3. Princess Alice Maude Mary, born April 25th, 1843.
4. Prince Albert Ernest Albert, born August 6th, 1844.
5. Princess IHelena Augusta Victoria, born May,  25th,
1846.
6. Princess Louisa Caroline Alberta, born May 18th, 1848.
7. Prince Arthur William Patrick Albert, born May 1st,
1850.
8. Prince Leopold George Duncan Albert, born April
7th, 1853.
9. Princess Beatrice Mary Victoria Feodore, born April
15th, 1857.
All of these children are still living, -the eldest twentyeight, the youngest eleven.   They appear to have  been
brought up in the most simple and sensible manner.  The
queen records several times, in her Highland Diary, that when
the family chanced to be separated fiom their attendants, she
heard her children say their lessons herself. Thus on board
the yacht, she writes, "I contrived to give Vicky (Victoria,
the princess royal) a little lesson by making her read in her
English history." On this subject our own gifted and excel
0 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
lent Grace Greenwood has.recently related some extremely
pleasing anecdotes.
When I was in England," writes Grace Greenwood, in the
'"Advance" "I heard several pleasant anecdotes of the queen
and her family, from a lady who received them of her friend,
the governess of the royal children. This governess, a very
interestitng, young lady, was the orphan daughter of a Scottish clergy'man.  During the first year of her residence at
Windsor, her mother died.  When she first received news of
her serious illness, she applied to the queen for permission to
resign her situation, feeling that to her mother she owed a
more sacred duty than even to her sovereign.   The queen,
who had been much pleased with her, would not hear of her
making this sacrifice, but said, in a tone of the most gentle
sympathy, -
"Go at once to your mother, child; stay with her as long
as she needs you, and then come back to us.  I will keep
your place for you.  Prince Albert and I will hear the children's lessons; so in any event let your mind be at rest in
regard to your pupils.'
The governess went, and had several weeks of sweet,
mournful communion with her dying mother; then, when
she had seen that dear form laid to sleep under the daisies
in the kirk-yardcl, she returned to the palace, where the loneliness of royal gran.deur would have oppressed her sorrow
ing heart beyond endurance, had it not been for the gracious,
womanly sympathy of the queen, who canme, every day, to
her school-room,  and the considerate kindness of her
young pupils.
"A year went by; the first anniversary of her great loss
d(lawned upon her, and she was overwhelmed as never before
by the utter loneliness of her grief.  She felt that no one in
all that great household knew  how much goodness and
sweetness passed out of mortal life, that day, a,year ago, or
28
433 
434    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
could give with her, one tear, one thought, to that grave
under the Scottish daisies.  Every morningl, before breakfast,- which the elder children took with their father and
mother, in the pleasant crimson parlor looking out on the
terrace at Windsor, - her pupils came to the school-room,
for a brief religious exercise.  This morning the voice of the
governess trembled in reading the Scripture for the day;
some words of divine tenderness were too much for her
poor, lonely, grieving heart; her strength gave way, and,
laying her head on the desk before her, she burst into tears,
murmuring, —,
"' 0 mother! mother!'
"One after another the children stole out of the room, and
went to their mother, to tell her how sadly their governess
was feeling; and that soft-hearted monarch exclaiming, 0 poor girl! it is the anniversary of her mother's death,'
hurried to the school-room, where she found Miss
struggling to regain her composure.
"'My poor child!' she said.'I am sorry the children
disturbed you this morning. I meant to have given orders
that you should have this day entirely to yourself; take it
as a sad and sacred holiday.  I will hear the lessons of the
children.'  And then she added,' To show you that I have
not forgotten this mournful anniversary, I bring you this
gift,' clasping on her arm a beautiful mourning bracelet,
attached to which was at locket for her mother's hair, marked
with the date of that mother's death.
What wonder that the orphan kissed, with tears, this gift,
and the more than royal hand that bestowed it!  This was
Victoria, fifteen years ago;  and I don't believe she has
morally':.Ivanced backward' since then.
Another anecdote illustrating Victoria's admirable good
sense and strict domestic discipline, came to me directly
firom one who witnessed the occurrence. 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
"One day, when the queen was present in her carriage, at
a military review, the princess royal, then rather a wilful
girl of about thirteen, sitting on the front seat, seemed disposed to be rather familiar and coquettish with some young,
officers of the escort.  Her Majesty gave several reproving
looks, without avail;'winked at her, but she wouldn't stay
winked.'  At  length, in flirting her handkerchief over the
side of the carriage, she dropped it,- too evidently not
accidentally.  Instantly two or three young heroes sprang
from their saddles to return it to her fair hand; but the
awful voice of royalty stayed them.
"' Stop, gentlemen!' exclaimed  the  queen;'leave it
just where it lies.  Now, my daughter, get down from the
carriage and pick up your handkerchief.'
"There was no help for it. The royal footmen let down
the steps for the little, royal lady, who proceeded to lift
from the dust the pretty piece of cambric and lace. She
blushed a good deal, though she tossed her head saucily,
and she was doubtless angry enough.  But the mortifying
lesson may have nipped in the bud her first impulse towards
coquetry.  It was hard, but it was wholesome.  I-ow many
American mothers would be equal to such a piece of Spartan
discipline?"
I will venture to borrow another pretty story from Grace
Greenwood's budglet.  The following anecdote was related
to her by the hero of it.
"iMy friend, Mr. W,  is a person of very artistic
tastes,- a passionate picture lover.  He had seen all the
great paintings in the public galleries of Lon((on, and had a
strong desire to see those of Buckingham Palatce, which,
that not being a'show-house,' were inaccessible to an ordinary connoisseur. Fortune favored him at last. Ile was
the br )ther of a London carpet merchant, who had orders to
435 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
put down new carpets in the state apartments of the palace.
And so it chanced that the temptation came to my friend to
put on a workman's blouse, and thus enter the royal precincts, while the flag indicating the presence of the august
family floated defiantly over the roof.
"So he effected an elltrance; and, when once within the
royal halls, dropped his assumed character, and devoted
himself to the pictures.  It happened that he remained in
one of the apartments after the workmen had left, and while
quite alone, the queen came tripping in, wvearing a platin
white morning dress, and followed by two or three of her
youinger children, dressed with like simplicity.  She approached the supposed workman, and said,  "'Pray, can you tell me when the new carpet wvill be put
down in the Privy Council Chamber?'
"And he, thinking he had no right to recognize the queen
under the circumstances, replied,
Really, madam, I cannot tell, but I. will inquire.'
"Stay,' she said, abruptly, but not unkindly;'who are
you?  I perceive that you are not one of the workmen.'
"IMr. A, blushing and stammering somewhat, yet
made a clean breast of it and told the simple truth.  The
queen seemed much amutsed with his ruse, and for the sake
of his love for the art forgave it; then added, smililng,,'I knew for all your dress that you were a gentleman, be
cause you did not "Your Majesty" me.  Pray look at the
pictures as long as you will.  Good-morning,! Come chicks,
we must g,o.'"
These are but trifles; but they serve to show tlhe queen's
simple and kindly character.  Her Iighiland Diary, recently
pubt)lished, abounds in similar trifles, and exhibits to us the
picture of a happy family, always delighted to escape from
the trammelling etiquette and absurd splendors of their rank,
436 
VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
and capable of being, pleased with those natural pleasures
which are accessible to most of mankind.
"I told Albert," wrote the queen once, "that formerly I
was too happy to go to London and wretched to leave it,
and how, since the blessed hour of my  marriage, and still
more since the summer, I dislike and am unhappy to leave
the country, and could be content and happy never to go to
town.  This pleased him.  The solid pleasures of a peaceful, quiet, yet mnerry life in the country, with my inestimable
husband and friend, my all in all, are far more durable than
the amusements of London, thoug,h we don't despise or dislike these sometimes."
Alas! that a union productive of so much happiness and
so much  good should have been prematurely sundered by
death.  In the spring of 1862 the Prince was attacked at
Windsor Castle by  a disease which  the  physicians pronounced to be gastric fever.  After a short illness the patient
sank into a kind of stupor, from which he roused himself
with ever-increasing difficulty.  Americans will never forget
that the last act of this truly wise andl noble prince was to
review the draft of the letter which the ministry proposed to
send to the American government, demanitding the return of
the confederate commnissioners taken firom a British Mail
Steamer  by Captain Wilkes, of the United States Navy.
Every tory mind in the universe desired that letter to be
couched in such language as would preclude the possibility
of a peaceful issue.  But Prince Albert had not a tory mind.
Collecting, with a great effort, his benumbing faculties, he
read the letter carefuilly over, and suggested chlinges which
softened its tone, and made far easier a compliance with its
just demands.  Soon after the performane of this duty, so
honorable to his memory, he relapsed into a letharg,y from
437 
438    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
which  death alone released  him.  The queen was heart.
broken.  Ever since that lamentable day, she has been a
mourner.  Her own pathetic words touchingly express the
sense she had of his value to her, and of the irreparable
nature of her loss.
"It will now be, in ftact," she said, "the beginningi of a
new reign."
I have spoken of the sovereignty of this lady as a "fiction," and compared it with one of the romantic creations of
Sir Walter Scott.  It is not, however, wholly fictitious.  In
one respect, it has been a solid and precious reality.
The time has not yet come when nations can safely dispense with imposiing and venerable fictions; and until they
can, it is hilghly desirable that those fictions should not be
too closely inspected, nor too frankly  criticised.  If the
sailor-king, WTilliam  the  Fourth, had been succeeded by
another male creature so devoid of all human worth and
di,gnity as Georige the Fourth, so licentious, so extravl,gant,
so iygnorant, and so vain, could he have reigned over England for thirty peaceful years?  Probably not.  Long ere
this, the sensible people of Great Britain would lhave begtii
to ask thlemselves, " Why maintain this costly pageant, since
it is but a piageant?"  The reign of this virtuous aind amiable queen has postponed  this question for thirty years,
during which the people of Englatnd have been gainingi political knowledge and experience, and drawing nearer the time
when it will be safe and expedient to let that man have the
name of governing England who does actually bear the chief
part in governing,.  History will, perhaps, decide that this
was the chief service which  Queen Victoria rendered her
country. 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE DRAMA.
BY WILLIAM WINTER.
No record of Eminent Women would be complete without
some reference to representative actresses.  In these the his
tory of the stage, especially within the last t'wo hundred
years, is abundantly rich.  Since the theatre was re-established
in England, at the restoration of the monarchy, in 1660,
many brilliant women have practised its art and won its
laurels.  Many bright names, therefore, appear in the catalogue of famous actresses, from the time of Elcanor Gwyii
and Mrs. Sanderson to the time of Helen Faucit and Mrs.
Lander.   Each successive generation has had its favorite
theatrical hleroines.   Mrs. Pritchard,  Mrs.  Oldfield, Pe,
IVoflington, Anne Bracegirdle, IKitty Clive, Miss Farren,
IMrs. Siddons, Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Jordan, Eliza O'Neill, Louisa
Brunton, Sally Booth, Maria Foote, Mrs. Nisbett, Ellen Tree,
Adelaide and Fanny IKemble, - these names,  and many
more, sparkle with fadeless lustre on that ample and storied
page of dramatic history.   Nor  are they merely  names.
The triumphs of genlius outlast all other triumphs.  Kiings
and warriors may be remembered as shadows; but the fair
conquerors of the stage inspire a warmer interest and live in
a more vivid remembrance.   Painlting immortalizes their
dead and gone beauty.  Tradition preserves the memory of
their achievements. Literature cherishes the lustrous record
439
N 
440    EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
of their lives and deeds. That record, from the days of
Gerard Lan,gbaine to the days of Thomas Campbell, Leigh
Hunt, AVilliam Hazlitt, and Charles Lamb, has instructed and
charmed a vast multitude of readers.  No  story, in truth,
can be more impressive or more affecting.  Gelliis, beauty,
renown, the pageantry of public careers, the wild tumult of
popular applahuse, lives of stainless integrity and heroic selfsacrifice, and lives of glittering infamy, lawless revel, and
lamentable ainguish, -  such are the elements of a narrative
that no sympathetic mind can contemplate without emotion
or without improvement. To add one brief page to that
story - a leaf from the present time- is the purpose of this
sketch. Its group of actresses must, necessarily, be a small
one, since its scope is restricted within narrow limits. The
artists herein described, however, are typical of different
nationalities and different orders of talent. As such - and
not in lnegligence of the signal ability and reputation of many
of their contemporaries - they have been selected for present
description.
I.
ADELAIDE RISTORI.'
To all votaries of the stage, Adelaide Ristori is a familiar
and an honored name.  On the 20th of September, 1866,
the great Italian actress made her first professional appearance
in America.  Since then she has acted in nearly all the importanlt cities in the United States.   The  way had been
smoothed for her comingl.  Long, before she came, portions
of her story had been widely circulated in the Press, and her
name had become known in almost every household. The
record of her life illustrates the development of an original
nature and the progress of singular genius.  It commences 
~
_ ~
~
<fr~
j\ ~) h Yi i; Y  
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
in 1826, when Adelaide Ristori was born, in the obscure
Venetian city of Cividale del Friuli,   Her parents, Antonio
Ristori and AIaddelena Pomatelli, his wife, were players,
members of a strolling theatrical company, and very poor.
The little Adelaide made her first appearance  on the stage
when she was only two months old, being carried on in a
basket, in the representation of a comedy called "The New
Year's Gift."  When four years old, she began to e.nact juvenile parts, in which, as she was a bright and pretty child, she
speedily became a favorite.  Her first teacher wvas her paternal grandmother; and very hard work that teacher ha.d to
do,- since the pupil evinced far more partiality for music
than for acting,, and was not, without great difficulty, diverted
from the former to the latter.  Perseverance, thlough, bent
the twig, and so gave the desired inclinatioii to the tree.  As
the child grew, her sphliere of employment began to broaden.
From juvenile parts she passed to the line of "chambermnaids," in which, at the agce of twelve, she was notably proficient.  Her labor at this time maimly supported her parents,
and her six brothers and sisters -  youlnger than herself.
Cha-nge of place was, of course, frequent, in this nomadic
period of her career.  The first fixed dramatic company with
which she became connected was that of the IKing of Sardinia, established at Turin.  In this city she found her second
teacher, Carlotta Marchioni, a famous actress in her day, and
not less generous thanl eminent.  To this artist the young
Ristori was indebted for sound teaching and judicious encouragement.  At times the eccentric old actress would call her
" an imbecile," and bid her "go and wash dishes."  At other
times, when the girl's acting justified approval, she would
feign severity and fondly murmur, "I'll have no more to do
with you! you act too much as I would have you."  In brief,
MIarchioni had discovered the germ of genius in this bud of
womanhood, and she lovingly and faithfully labored to devel
441 
442    EMINENT WOMEN OF'HE AGE.
op it into the perfect flowver.  With the Turin compa-ny Ris.
tori remained until 1841, when she accepted an engagitement
in the Ducal company of Parma. The next five years of
her life were full of labor, variety, and advancement.  Her
best successes were won in comedy; but she also attained
distinction as all interpreter yf the romantic drama.  That
she was surpassingly beautiful in those days call easily be imagiled by all who remember the superb charms of her mature womanhood.  But she conquered not less by virtue and
genius than by personal beauty.  In 1846, Guliano del Grillo,
son and heir to the wealthy Marchese  Capranica, saw Adelaide Ristori, loved her, and won her heart.  The parents of
the youngi nobleman, howvever, sternly fi)rbade him to marry
a woman who was not only sprung of humble origin but was
an actress.  The consequence of this parental opposition was
a stolen marriage between these lovers.  Not without great
difficulty, thou,gh, were bride and bridegroom united.  Some
time after their marriage, which was hastily contracted at a
little church near Cesena  (Ristori being then on her way
from Rome to Florence, to fulfil a professioinal engagement in
the latter city), del Grillo had to make his escape from potent
and dreaded parental vigilance, disguised as a peasant and
mounted on a mule-wagon, - in which trim he passed safely
through many perils, and came at last to Florence and to his
wife.  Finding their opposition vain, the parents presently
relented, and a general reconciliation was attained.  In the
meanwhile the marriage of Ristori anid del Grillo, originally
one of public proclamation, -a valid ceremony in the Ro
magna, in default of the usual rite,- had been solemnly ratified, at Rome, by Cardinal Pacca.  Thus, in honor and eminence, closed the first chlapter in the brilliant life of the
actress.  Iu deference to the wish of her husband's fimily, she
nowV retired from the stage.  A brief period of domestic repose succeeded. But the genius of Ristori, not yet fully sat 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
isfied by expression, fretted in retirement and  longed for its
wonted field of labor.  The fetters were soon broken.  Hearing that one of her former managers had been imprisoned for
debt, the actress determined to give three performances for
his benefit. In pursuance of this resolve, she returned to the
stage. Her reappearance was made at Rome, in 1849; and
so great was her success that the populace stormed the theatre,
and wildly demanded her formal and permanent resumption
of her legitimate pursuit.  Upon all hands her greatness was
acklnowledged.  Even the noble relatives bent to the spell
of this victorious hour. Aristocratic scruples were laid aside;
a beneficent genius was left free to pursue its natural course;
and, fiom that day to this, Adelaide Ristori has labored
almost constantly in the service of the drama.   Nor, in so
laboring, has she neglected even the least of the duties of
private life.  Cherished as a wife, reverenced as a mother,
and extolled throughout the civilized world as an.tetress, she
is a living rebuke to the idle and petty theory that woman
cannot devote herself to an independent pursuit  without
sacrificing the sanctities of her home.
Ristori's first efforts i'Y tragedy were made after her reappearance at R,ome.   It was then, indeed, that she determined
to dedicate herself to this branch of her art.  A renowned
Italian actress, Caroline Internari, advised her to this intent;
and experience has shown the wisdom of that advice.  Step
by step, in the course of nineteen years, Ristori has risen to
the first eminence among the tragic actresses of her time.
Upon the Italian stage her rank was attained with comparative ease.  She played many parts; but the culmination of
her national success was marked by her performance of Alfieri's 3ljYrrha, in 1850.  It is a terribly painful impersonation, but it is wonderfully strong.  Outside of Italy and
France, thlough, it has never been regarded with much  enthusiasm — save that of horror; and there seems no especial
413 
444   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
need o)f pausing upon it here.  From Italy Ristori turned her
eyes to France.   To conquer Paris would be to conquer
Europe; for Paris was the art-capital of the continent.  Taking all the risks, therefore, Ristori selected an Italian conmpany and made her way to the renowned metropolis.  It was
during the season of the first Universal Exposition, on the
22d of May, 1855, that she made her first appearance in
Paris.  Silvio Pellico's "Francesca da Rimini "-embodying that sweet, sad story which readers of English poetry
have learned by heart in the tenderly musical and delicately
colored poem of Leigh Hunt -was the openingi piece ill this
important season.  Ristori played Francesca.  It is a character that reveals her sweetness more than her strength; but
her personation of it was a perfect success.  Seven nights
afterwards she played -Ify. rha.  All Paris was  at her feet.
"Ristori," wrote Jules Janin, then the representative dramatic critic -  she is tragedly itself; she is comedy; she is
the drama."    Our langua,ge is too poor," said Lailartine,
"to express the worth of that woman."  IHer first season in
Paris extended to the 10th of September.   At its close she
had given three representations of FIancesca, seventeen of
lfIyrdha, twenty-two of 3iarcty Sttart, and seven of Pia da
Tolom)ei; and she had earned half a million franctes.  More
than that- she had conquered the capital.  All the intellect
and culture of Paris honored the artist; AryScheffer painted
her portrait; the Italian residents of Paris (gave her a medal; and a diamond bracelet, presented by the Emperor of
the French, testified to the imperial homag,e of "NaLpoleon
III. to Adelaide Ristori."  Her second season in Paris was
like the first; nor didl less success attend her in the other
great cities of Europe.  At the subsequent incidents of hei
European career it is only needful to glance in brief and
rapid review.  In 1857 she visited Spain; and it is recorded,
in illustration of her marvellous personal magnetism, that, 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
on one occasion duringo this visit, she so wroiught upon the
feelings of Queen Isabella, as to procure the pardon of a poor
soldier, condemned to death for a breach of martial  discipline.  In 1858 she was in Berlin, and was decorated, by the
King, of Prussia, wvith the "Order of Mcrit," -  never before
attained by a woman, - in honorable recognition of her aetin(
as Deborcah (the "Leahl " of the American staoge). In 1860
she played a brilliant engageinent.it St. Petersl)Lrg.  So far
in Italian.  Now, however, she was  persuaded to achieve
renown in French.  Her first venture iln this 1la,nguage was
made at the Odeon, in Paris, in 1861, in the character of
Beatti-., in a drama expressly written for her by Leg,ouve6.
It proved a hit.  The piece was played eilghty iighlts in that
year, and  afterwards, in 1865, was prosperously revived,
both in the capital and in the provincial cities of France.
At one time Ristori travelled with two distinct dramatic companies, one Italian and the other French.  To London she
went in 1863.  Mary St?tart and Qteen Elizabeth were tlhere
accounted her best impersonations; and, as every theatrical
community in America can now testify, they are entirely
superb) and peerless worls of art.  In 1864 Piistori went to
Egypt and gave thirty-seven performances at Alexandria.
Still later she played at Constantinople, at Athens, and at
Smyrna.   In 1865 she visited Ho11(land,. by invitation of the
University of Utrecht.  By this time she h:ad  tttained all
possibl)e professional honors in the old world, and it was only
natural that she should turn her eyes across the sea.
Ristori's American career, as already mentioned, began on
the 20th of September, 1866,- -her appearance being made
under the direction of iMr. J. Gran. The event is remembered
as one of the most interesting and exciting, that have, of late
years, marked the history of the stage.  The place was the
French Theatre, in New York city.  The house was densely
crowded. Ristori's entrance, in the first act of "Medea," was
445 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
awaited with almost breathless suspense, and was greeted
with a tumult of joyful enthusiasm.  No  artist, indeed,
could wish  for a  heartier welcome  than  American  audiences habitually accord to a stranger.  Nor, in the case of
Ristori, did this spontaneous cordiality abate, as the performance proceeded; for the actress was recalled at the end of
each act, and three times at the end of the play. Every
heart felt the presence of an extraordinary woman.   HLIer
majesty of person and demeanor; her gracious dignity; her
powerfiul and perfectly melodious voice,- the grandest voice
that has been heard on  the stage in modern times;  her
stately, Roman head; dark, flashing gray eyes; wonderfil
mobility of feature; luxuriant freedom and massive grace of
gesture; and, above all, the sense that lhung, about her of exhaustless reserve power, - could not fail, in truth, to thrill the
sensitive, sympathetic American temperament. Then, too,
her personation of lJedlea disclosed, as in a comprehensive
picture, all the chief faculties and qualities of her genius.
After-performances did, of courses make them more fully
and definitely known; but this performance seemed to crystallize them all.  In the tragedy of "Medea" an irresistible
appeal is made to sympathy with both passionate and maternal love, - each of which is seen to be scorned and outraged,
-  and also to admiration for a brilliant personality.  Medea,
a barbaric princess, has not only been deserted by her husband, whom she loves with an intense and wild ardor that is
figihtful and almost impious, but her childreni are taken from
her, even at the supreme moment of agony when her recreant husband has cast her off in scorn, and announced his design to wed another woman.  To be wronged as a wife was
a sufficiently miserable disaster. To be wronged as a mother
is an overwhelming calamity.   The  double blow breaks
Mledea's heart and crazes her brain, that is predisposed to
madness.   Then, in the poisoning of her rival and the
44C) 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
slaughter of her children before the altar of Saturn, the clima       x     of her life is attained simultancously with the crisis of
her anguish. Excepting Killy Lear,- the most awful and
the       most pathetic creation in dramatic literature, l- e(lea is,
perhaps,  the fullest embodiment known to the stage of pitiable       desolation and passionate delirium.  Love that bears
fruit  in wickedness, cruel desertion, loing and wretched wanderings,   penury, hunger, cold, the gradual wasting of mind
an    d          body, gleams of hope extinguished by scornful insult,
then ffiry ove rleapiing love, then a few faint flutteritigs of
natural  tenderness, then chaos,- such is the hard and heartbreakin      g  story of Medcea.  The beginning,, classic beauty,
innocence, pastoral tranquillity; the end, a broken heart and
a        shattered brain.  Few women  have succeeded in playing
the       part at all.  Most actresses who have essayed it have
merel       y s wamped themselves in vehemence and  noise.  Only
one pe     rsonation of it, in our day, can justly be compared
wit        h Ristori's, and that is the work of the great German actress, F    anny Janausclhek.  It is, indeed, no lighlt matter to
satisf      y the requirements of this part, in even the siingle requisite       of maternal love.  Not every actress can personattc a
mother. R istori, however, at all points throulghout her personatio      n of -Iedea, showed great genius and great capacities
for its expression. In appearance, she was a perfect type of
classic         beauty. In spirit, she was a perfect type of fiery vitality. He    r subtle knowledge of the human heart, her profound
pathos,          her extraordinary capacity for the utterance of vehemnent passion, her glowino imagination, her stateliness of intellect, and her thorough culture in dramatic art, all found
utterance in this superb dramatic effort.  Thus,  at the outset, she conquered American admiration.  The victory thus
begun by her lledea, was finished by her l31aiy Stytart and
her Queen Elizabeti.  With these three characters her name
will forever be identified, in the history of the stage.  HIer
447 
448   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Elizabeth, ill particular, was pre-eminently great.  Seeing,
Ristori in that assumption, you saw a woman who wvas mnanifestly born to rule; who swayed everythiing around her with
an iron will; who had never even dreamed of doul)ting, her
divine right of monarchy; but who, nevertheless, was the
victim of human palssions, human weakness, and thlat  sorrow
which is Heaven's discipline for all mankind.  Pride was
never depicted better than in her arrogant scorn of rival
genius and alspiraltion, and in her martial defiance of a dangerous enemy, - Philip II., of Spain.  Valor found its most
chivalric utterance, when she drew the sword of her father,
King Henry VIII.   Love - the dangerous gentleness and
glittering passion of the tigress - was fully portrayed in
her fata,l dalliance with the brave Earl of Essex.   For the
rest: vanity, spite, spleen, malignant cruelty, and hypocrisy
-all that composed the imperial weakness of the "virrgin
queen "-were minutely painted in her atrocious conduct
toward the captive Queen of Scots.  Ilow massive was the
nature of the great monarch you could easily comprehend, in
contemnplating, the splendid art of the actress, - her struggles
between  duty and passion,  her terrific remorse,  and her
lonely, desolate death.  Ristori interpreted many other characters while she was in America; but never one tlhat so captivated the popular heart. Time may impair the recollection
of the actress in other parts; but it cap never dim in menmory
her lustrous iimage of England's grandest queen.  Ana-lysis
of all her persona,tions is, of course, impossible here; but
mention of all may usefully be made.   She aippe.tred here,
during her first eDngagement, as Afedea, -,Vary Stuart, Queen
Elizabeth,  Pleedra,  Judith,  Pia  de  Tolomiiei, Frantcesca
da Rimini, Adrienne Lecouvreur, Tltisbe, Cai)zna, Mlfyrrha,
Deborah, Nornma, and Lady Macbeth.  That engagement, including her tour outside of New  York, extended over a
period of eilght months, in the course of which time she gave 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
one hundred and sixty-eight performances. The last of these
occurred at the French Theatre, in New York, on the night
of the 17th of May, 1867, when she took a farewell benefit,
appearing as Medea.  Her first speech in English was made
on this occasion, when, at the end of the performance, she
came forward, in response to the call of the audience, and
spoke the followiig words: —
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,- This is the first moment of
profound sorrow I have known in this country.  To bid adieu
to New Yolrk, the birthplace of my success, - to say farewell to the United States, that have everywhere received me
with op)en arms, -   awakens emotions too deep for any words
my poor tongue can utter.  My visit to America is the grand
event of my life; -  grand in its temerity, grander yet in its
triumphs. Your enthusiasm, your munificence, your goodness, I shall remember long, and gratefully; remember till
memory decays and my heart ceases to throb.  Adieu I"
On the followingr day Ristori sailed for Europe; but in the
autumn of 1867 she returned to New York, and commenced,
on  t   he 18thl of September, her second, and last, American
engagement.  This was signalized by the production, on the
7th          of October, of a new drama, then acted for the first time,
Signor Giacommetti's "Marie Antoinette." The play is so
constructed that it depicts the queen at various chief periods
in her career. Its action commences in 1786, and terminates
in       1793. Comedy and tragedy blend in it, and exact from
the actress the utmost versatility and the deepest emotion.
Ristori    amply satisfied the demand.  By all who saw the personation, her llatie Atzoinette will ever be remembered as a
stately image of majesty and sorrow. In the drama, as ill
history, Marie Antoinette is seen to have been subjected to
bitter injustice and insult: ruthlessly separated from her hus
29
449 
450    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
band; harrowed by the knowledge of his death upon the
guillotine; torn from her children; plunged into the deeps
of agony and despair; and, finally, led forth to die amid the
jeers of the brutal, infernal mob of the French revolution.
Her experience, indeed, was the epitome of all miseries;
but, over all miseries her indomitable constancy rematined the
victor.  Ristori realized this ideal of suffering and fortitude.
Her Malctrie A)ttoinette was a beautiful, brilliant woman, a loving wife, a fond mother, a proud-spirited queen, a profound
sufferer, an exalted conqueror of all the ills of a most wretched fate. In two of the scenes, the pathos of her acting was
such as no words can express.  One scene, at the end of the
fourth act, represented the parting betwixt Louis XVI. and
his wife and children.  Overcome by his emotions, the king,
who knows himself condemned to die, rushes away into his
oratory, and closes and faistens the door behind him.  The
queen and children pursue him: and then it was that Ristori,
bursting into a delirium, beat upon the door with both her
hands, and cried out upon his name, " Ah! Luigi, una parola
una sola! " and wruing every heart with grief and pity.
The other scene represented the wife and children, kneeling in
prayer for the husband and father, at that moment on his way
to the guillotine.  The roll of drums and the wail of the
dead-march sounds in their ears, even while they pra.y, but
continually grows fainter and fainter until it dies away in the
distance.  Ristori's face was a perfect picture of convulsive
agony.   A stupendous sorrow struggled in it with a vain,
despairing effort at resignation.  These scenes always proluced an extraordinary effect upon the spectators.  IIistori cally accurate in every detail, and literally true to nature in
every phase of emotion, Ristori's Marie Antoiaette lives, in deed, in many memnories, as the best of all her impersona
tions.  To have seen this piece of acting is to have appre hended every aspect of the French Revolution, - its horror, 
ADELAIDE RISTORI.
its pathos, its hideous details, its retributive justice, and its
full social significance.
RPistori's second American engagement lasted nine months.
IIcr last appearance ill New York was made on the 26th of
June, 1868, as Queen Elizabeth. The chief new part that she
played during, her final season was I&abella Suarez, in a five-act
dirama, of a religious character, entitled " Sor Teresa," the
work of Signor Luigi Camoletti.   The entire number of
performances given durinog her second engagement was one
hundred and eighty-one, of which fifty-six were given in the
island of Cuba.  Hier prosperity in America was very great.
Personally as well as professionally she made the most pleas ing impression throughout this country.  "Away from the
theattre," wrote one of her most earnest critics and devoted
students,- Kate Field, -   sne is the most human (and humane), the most simnple, the most unaffected, the most sympathetic of women. So strongly is the line drawn between
reality and fiction, that, in Ristori's presence, it requires a
mental effort to recall her histrionic greatness."... That
greatness, however, must forever survive in the history of the
sta,ge.  Putting aside all differences of critical opinion, one
thotugh,t is held in common  by all who have watched her
career and studied her achievements. That thought is, that
she possesses a great intellect, a good heart, and a pure nature,
and that she has exercised the best possible influence upoli
the dramtna.  True to herself as well as to her profession, by
her personal worth and private virtues she has attained a social station commensurate in eminence with that which her
geniuls and aspiring energy have won for her in the world of
art.  The woima   is as great as the actress; and the best
minds and purest lives of our time have proudly and gladly
recognized a fellowship with Adelaide Ristori.
451 
452    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
II.
EUPHROSYNE PAREPA ROSA.
In the autumn of 1866 the musical public of America wel
comed to these shores a richly-gifted and very remarkable
musical artist,-Euphrosyne Parepa Rosa.  At the beginning of her American career she awakened a lively interest.
Her talents were seen to be extraordinary, and her temperament was recognized as uncommonly  genial.   Time has
confirmed that first impression, and lively interest has cleepened into an affectionate esteem. The story of the artist's
life is brief and simple.   She  was born at Ediiiburgh,
Scotland, in 1839.  Her father was a Wallachian nobleman,
Baron Georgiades de Boyesku, of Bucharest.  Her mother,
Miss Seguin, was a sister to the once eminent basso of that
name.   Their married life lasted but a little while, being
terminated by the sudden death of the Baron, whereby his
widow, only twenty-one years of age at the time, was left in
poverty.  To support herself and her infant child, Euphrosyne, the bereaved Baroness shortly afterward adopted the
lyric stage as a profession, and presently began the education
of her daughter for the same pursuit.  This proved a lab)or
of ease as well as of love. In her musical studies the child
made rapid progress;  and she also acquired, with rare
facility, five modern languages,- English, Italian, French,
German, and Spanish.  At the age of sixteen -in 1855she made her first public appearance in opera, in the city of
Mlalta.  Amina, in "Sonnambula,"-a customary role of
operatic dbutantes, -  was the character she then assumed;
and therein she made a marked and promising success. The
unusual power and compass of her voice, and the felicitous
method of her execution, speedily became themes of praise
with European connoisseurs of music. At Naples, Genoa,
ib 
EUPHROSYNE PAREPA ROSA.
Rome, Florence, Madrid, and Lisbon, her first success was
repeated and increased. So, for two years, she prospered,
on the continent of Europe, receiving the applause of the
people, the cordial favor of musical criticism, and the compliments and honorary gifts of nobles and of monarchs.   In
1857 she made her debut in Lonldon, in the same company
withl Ronconi, Gardoni, and Tagliafico, in "I1 Puritani,"
and thereafter took a high place in the favor of the British
public.  Hler career in England lasted nine years; in the
course of which period she became the wife of a British
officer, whose death, however, left her in widowhood, at the
end of sixteen months.  The autumn of 1866, as has already
been stated, found her in the United States.  The company
with which she came included the well-known cornet player,
Levy, and the violinist, Carl Rosa, and was directed by
AMr. 11. L. Batemall.   Her  debut here,  September  11,
was made in concert, in the city of New York; but she has
since achieved honors in oratorio and opera, in most of
the principal cities of the Republic.  In 1867 she became
the  wife  of  Carl  Rosa,  with  whom  she has  happily
lived and labored.  Her rank ill the mnusical world is high
and honorable, and rests upon solid merits.   Nature has
endowed her with rich and remarkable gifts.  Her voice, a
pure soprano, is very powerful, is even in the register, and
is thoroughly well balanced.  Her method is entirely correct; and, in view of the great volume of her voice, her
fineness of execution is unusual and surprising.  Perfect in
the technical part of music, and thoroughly acquainted with
the nature and the scope of her own powers, she does every
thing, well that she undertakes, and she never undertakes a
task that she is not fully able to perform. lIer intonation
and enunciation are faultless.  In oratorio ancl in the concert room she has no equal.  Onl the stage, however, she
somewhat lacks, in acting, the intensity of passionate emo
453 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
tionI, the soulful expression, which characterize and denote a
great lyric artist.  If, however, she have not a dramatic
genius, she certainly possesses commanding talents.  Iher
operatic performances in  this country  have evinced  the
steady growth of decided dramatic faculty. Great vocal
powers have seldom found more  ample or more touchingo
expression than those of Parepa Rosa, in the first act of
":Norma."   To add that one of her very best successes
here has been made as Rosina, il " The Barber of Seville,"
is to indicate alike the versatility of her talents and the
scope and thoroughness of her culture.   There is not, at
present, on the American stage, a sounder practical musician
than Euphrosyne Parepa Rosa.   In social intercourse the
lady is agreeable and winning, by virtue of her simple kindness and constant, sunny good-humor.
A New York journalist thus thoroulghly sums up the distinguishing merits of this gifted and excellent artist:
"Madam   Parepa-Rosa's rare versatility and conspicuous
artistic merit were never fairly appraised until she appeared
in the United States, although she had sung, ill English opera
ill London,and on the Italian stage in the chief cities of the continent.  The story of her American tours during the past two
or three seasons would form instructive reading, for foreigners.
It is within bounds to say that, during a year, she has sung
before a quarter of a million of people residing in about twentyfive cities scattered over an area of fifteen hundred miles long
by seven or eight hundred wide.  On her return home this
most lndefatigal)le primna donna will be able to testify to the
receptions everywhere accorded her, and to the amount of
'appreciation' that real vocal worth finds, even in the young
cities of the Mew  wpst.  We have no record of a singer having
accomplished the task that Madam  Rosa has so far brilliantly
fulfilled. At home in every province of her art, -opera,
454 
ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN).  455
concert, and oratorio; blessed with a voice that even this
trying climate cannot impair, and gifted with a musical
memory most wonderful, -she permnits her manager to announce her at twenty places in a less number of days; and a
two yea-s' experience of her energetic character has taught the
public to know that her engagements, thoug,ll remotely placed,
are sure of being fulfilled.  It is not unusual for her to sing,
ill one week, two-or three times at the opera, take the lead
in an oratorio performance two hundred and fifty miles from
the Academy, and appear in concert at two or three different
places.  This is an average instance of her untirilng diligence,
and the consequence is that, go where and when she will, she
is sure to find a couple of thousand persons assembled to do
honor to her talents."
III.
ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN).
No one thinks of Ellen Tree without kindness and pleasure.   By that name rather than her married name she is
remembered by play-goers, and will be celebrated in dramatic
annals.  She is one of the women who have truly adorned
the stage, - a good woman, in every relation of life, atd a
brilliant actress.  For forty-five years she has been ta member of the dramatic profession.  Her first appearance on the
regular stage, after a little amateur practice ait a private
theatre, was made at Covent Garden, London, in 1823, when
she eCiacted Olivia, in Shakspe,are's  "Twelfth:Niglt."   By
the critics of that period the performance was regarded as
"promising; " but that was all; so the young actress went
into the provinces, and acted there for the next four years.
None of the difficulties that usually attend young theatrical
aspirants beset her early career.  Two  of her sisters were 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
already in the profession, - -one, Mrs. Maria Bradshaw, as a
singer, att Covent Garden, and the other, lMrs. Quin, as - dancer,
at Drury Lane.  Their ijflueine, of course, favoied tlheir young
relative, and an afiectionate mother protected, cheered, and
encotiraged her.  In 1827 she was engag,ed as a member of
the Drulry Lane company, and in that theatre she imade her
first conspicuous successes. Her range of characters, even
then, was wide.   She played Lady  Teazle, and she also
played Jane  Siore,        thus touching  the antipodes of
comedy and tragedy.  In that same year, and at that same
theatre, Charles IKean made his firstprofessional appearance;
and it is probable that the acquaintance then and there comrmenced, which was afterwards to ripenl into love and marriage
between these two distinguished artists.  At that time, and
for several subsequent years, theatrical business appears to
have been uncertain and iunprofitable in London; and, as a
matter of prudence no less than enterprise, Ellen Tree varied her metropolitan engagements with various provincial
tours, visitingo and plaiyiiig in the principal cities of England,
Ireland, and Scotland.  Success, in every respect, continually attended her footsteps.  She played by turns all the accepted leading parts in the legitimate drama, and her professional reputation was  steadily augmented.   One of her
eminent successes was her personation of Clerzanztke, in Talfourd's classic and beautiful tragedy, which wvas first acted
at Covent Garden, May 26th, 1836.  With o6n, too, one of
the purest and bricghtest of all the denizens of thle world of
fancy, her name is identified.  In 1836,  she visited the
United States, and made a starring tour of this country,
which lasted three years.  Her success here was very great,
and she found the warmest favor, not merely with the general
multitude of theatre-goers, but with the best educated and
most refined classes in American society.  Years afterwards,
in 1865, when, after a long absence, she reappeared in New
456
0 
ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 457
Yorkl, as Mrs. Charles I(ean, it was remarked that many
gray-h-lairedl men and women appeared among her audiences,
lured to unfamiliar footlights by the desire to renew their in
tellectual association with the brilliant stage heroine of younger
and btigllter days.  In 1839 she returned to Eingland, with
~10,000 as the fruit of her professional labors in America.
IHer first English reappearance was made at the Htaymarket,
where she was welcomed home almost rapturously by the
English public.  On the 4th of November, 1839, she appeared at Covenut Garden, then under the management of
Madame Vestris (afterwards Mrs. Charles Matthews,  and
since deceased), as the Countess, in Sheridan Knowles's
drama of " Love," then acted for the first time, but repeated
fifty times in the course of that season.  In January, 1842,
at Dublin, she was married to Charles Kean, with whom for
twenty-six years she lived in perfect sympathy and happiness.  Three months after their marriage they played a joint
eLngaig ement, extendin, over a period of fifty-three nights, at
the London Haymarket.  "As You Like It," "The Gamester," and "The Lady of Lyons," may be mentioned as typical
of the character of the pieces in which they performed.  In
August, 1845, they came to the United States, bringingc with
them Lovell's now well-known drama of " The Wife's Secret,"
written expressly for them, and in which they acted with
sin,gular excellence.   In this piece, and in Shakspearean
plays, MAIr. and Mrs. Iean futlfilled a round of engagements
ill the principal cities of the Republic, with equal fame and
profit.  In the summer of 1847 they returned to England.
Thenceforward, as before, Ellen Tree shared the labors and
the fortunes of her husband.  She had no separate career,
nor did she desire it.  In 1848 Mr. IKean was appointed by
the Queen of England to be conductor of the Christmas
theatrical performances at Windsor Castle, instituted by that
soverei,gn and her lamented consort, the late Prince Albert, 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
with the double design of benefiting the drama and relieving
the court of the care and ceremony incident to state visits
to the public theatres. This very difficult office Mr. Kean
filled for ten years; and, as he was wont to consult his wife
on every important matter, it is fair to discern in his signal
success some traces of Ellen Tree's prudence, tact, knowledg,e of human nature, and ripe professional cultivation.  At
the end of his first season, the queen denoted her appreciation of his services by giving him a diamond ring.  In 1850
Mr. IKean became joint lessee of the Princess's Theatre, in
Londonl, of which he was left sole lessee and manager in the
following year. Here began the most brilliant period( of his
own and his wife's theatrical career.  What Charles Kemble
commenced, and MIacready continued, Charles IKeanl triumphantly finished,-  the grand and noble work of doing entire justice, in their representation, to Shakspeare's plays.
Strang(rely enough, accuracy on the stage is a modern virtue.
Hamlet, as played by Garrick, wore the wig and the kneebreeches of Garrick's time. Charles Kemble was the first to
make a stand for literal correctness of costume. Macready,
who took.Covent Garden Theatre for his field of enterprise,
in 1837, went further, and made a stand for greater correctness of scenery.  But it remained for Charles Kean to do
more than ha4 ever before been attempted, by every possible
auxiliary of art, skill, learning, labor, and money, to place
the plays of Shakspeare on the stage in a thorotughly correct
and splendid manner.  That work he accomplished; and he
is said to have remarked, very late in his life, doubtless in a
moment of despondency, that he had wasted the best working years of his career, in endeavoring to sustain the dignity
and purity of the British drama.  He retired fi'omi the management of the Princess's in 1860, having, within his term of
nine years, made the most elaborate and brilliant  revivals,
not alone of Shakspearean, but of divers other dramas. The
458 
ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 459
series commenced  in February,  1852, with "The  Merry
AVives of Windsor."  This was followed, in due succession,
by " Iti  John," "The  Corsican Brothers,"  "Macbeth,"
'Sardanapalus, "Richard III.," "Faust and Marg,uerite,"
"King itIenry VIII.," "The  WVinter's Tale," "Louis XI.,"
" A Midsummer Night's Dream," "King Richard II.," "The
Tempest, " Kiing Lear," "Pizarro," "The Merchant of Venice," andl "MIuch Ado About Nothing."  Each of these pieces
lhad a very long run, and in eachl Mr. and Mrs. Kean played
the principal parts.  A public dinner was given to Mr. Kean,
on his retirement from the direction of the Princess's Theatre.
Mr. Gladstone presided; and, on behalf of the committee
and subscribers, presented the retiring manager with a silver
vase, valued at two thousand guineas.  In the speech that
he delivered on this interesting occasion, Mr. Kean made
the followiing significant allusion to the cherished partner of
his fortunes:  Mind and body require rest, after such active
exertions for nine years, during, the best period of my life;
and it could not be a matter of surprise if I sank under a
continuance of the combined duties of actor and mainager, in
a theatre where everything has grown into gigantic proportions.  Indeed, I shotlld long since have succumbed, had I
not been sustained and seconded by the indomitable energy
anid devoted affection of my wife.  You have only seen her
in the fullfilment of her professional pursuits, and are therefore unable to estimate the value of her assistance and couinsel.  She was ever by my side in the hour of need, ready to
revive my dcrooping spirits, and to stimulate me to fresh exertion."  In July, 1863, Mr. and Mrs. Kean set out from
London, with a small, selected company, including their
uiece, AIiss E. Chapman, Mr. J. F. Cathcart, and Mr. G.
Everett, to make a professional tour around the world.  They
went first to Australia; thence to California; thence to the
West Indies; and thence to New York.   In the latter city 
460    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
they arrived in April, 1865, and made their first appearance
there, at the Broadway Theatre, when it, together with the
other theatres, was reopened, subsequent to the assassination
of President Lincoln. Ill the opelning pieces, " Hienry VIII.,"
and  The Jealous Wife," Mrs. Kean played Queen Gatherine
and Of,s. Oakley.  Majesty of mien, fervor of feeling, remarkal-le variety of intonation and of facial expression, accuracy of method, and charming vivacity betokened in those
personations the  gifted  and cultured  actress.   She  was
seen, however, to be altogether unlike the Ellen Tree of former days, the slight; graceful, elegant, laiughing lady, who
had blazed upon the stag,e as the radiant Rosalind, and dazzled
every eye with her beauty and her wit.
"For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subject all
To envious and calumninating time."
The final sojourn of the ICeans in the United States lasted
a year.  On the 16th of April, 1866, at the Academy of
Music, in New York, after having appeared in the chief
theatres of the United States and Canada, they took a farewell benefit, playing in "Louis XI.,"  and "The Jealous
Wife." There was a very great multitude present, and the
occasion lingers in memory as one of the brightest and saddest
in the record of the stage. The fine art of acting never received a more fervent, conscientious, and touching illtistration than was afforded in this performance.  Mr. Kean played
with all the energy and fire of his nature, and, at the close
of the representation of "Louis XI.," made a most affecting,
farewell speech to the public.  Mrs. Kean's part in "Louis
XI." was ilfartel, the peasant's wvife.  She was very genial
and simple in it; and thus, even in a trifle, revealed the es 
ELLEN TREE (MRS. CHARLES KEAN). 461
sential charm of her temperament.  A sweet, kind, unpretending, helpful, affectionate woman, such Ellen Tree always
was; and very naturally, therefore, she has always borne her
rare mental gifts and distinguished worldly honors with native modesty, ease, and grace, winning on all sides affection
not less than esteem.  At the close of their engagemient here,
Mr. and Mrs. Kean returned to England, there to commence
a series of farewell performances, by way of final retirement
from public life.  This was abruptly terminated by the sudden and serious illness of Mr. Kean, on the 29th of May,
1867, when, at Liverpool, he was playing, Louis XI."  He
iiever played again. On the 22d of January, 1868, at Bayswater, near London, he died. His grave is in the village
of Catherington, in Hampshire, close by that of his mother.
Ellen Tree, of course, will act no more. Sorrow saddens
the autumn of her brilliant life.  From all quarters, though,
she is the recipient of the kindest and sincerest sympathy.
The Queen of England, herself a widow, has sent a letter
of condolence to the widow of the actor. Better than royal
courtesy, however, and better than all the consolations of
friendship and fortune, is the consciousness of duty  well
and truly done toward him whom she loves and mourns, andl
toward all the world.  With that consciousness warm at her
heart, Ellen Tree can look back upon a well-ordered,  au
honorable, a distinguished, and a successful life.  Ier rank
as a dramatic artist is with the best representatives of Engd
lish comedy. 
462    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
IV.
CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG.
America's favorite vocalist, Clara Louisa Kellogg, was born
in Sumter, South Carolina, in 1842.   She is, however, of
New Ellgland parentage.  Her early years were passed in
Connecticut.  She was educated at the free schools, and in
them she used to sing with her little school-mates; but she
does not appear to have attracted attention as a child, by
either proficiency ill vocal exercises or especial beauty of
voice.  At one time in her girlhood she sang in a church choir, in the town of Lyme, where she was thought to possess
a pretty voice, but one that could easily be shouted down by
more vigorous organs. In 1858 her parents were residents
of New York city, her mother being what is called "a healingo
medium," -in other words, a clairvoyant doctor. Many
visitors were attracted to this lady -  who is, indeed, described as a singularly gifted and interesting person - by the
fame of her success as a physician.   One of these visitors,
on conversinig with Mrs. Kellogg, learned that her " medium
powers had first been exercised in restoring to health her own
daughter, a slender, delicate girl, who, at the moment of this
conversation, was singing, behind a curtain that divided the
room in twvain, to the accomnpanying jingle of a cracked piano.
One confidence succeeding another, Mrs. Kellogg said that her
daughter's ambition impelled her toward the opieratic stage.
Reference was hereupon made, by the visitor, to Miss Eliza
Loygan, the once distinguished actress, -  now in retirement,
as Mrs. George Wood.   At a later period mother and
dau,ghlter called on this lady, and consulted her as to the expediency of Miss Kello,gg's adopting a professional career.
The incident is interesting and significant, as indicative of the
troubles that beset, at the outset, every aspirant for the artistic 
CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG.
life, and of the courageous energy that is needful to meet and
overcome them:
"SIy sister," writes Miss Olive Logan, in one of her
lively, off-hand sketches, "spoke in a disinterested manner
to this young girl,- told her of all the haps and mishaps
of stage life, - spoke, also, of that unnecessary and unjust
obloquy whichl is attached to the name of every actress, and
then bade her go back and ponder seriously.  She went back
with her mother, and both pondered seriously. They pondered on the fact that the young girl must do something for
self-sustenance.  They pondered on the limited field of employment which is open to women.  They pondered on the
emoltumenets and the delights of being a seamstress, or a shopgirl, or a worker on a sewing,-machine.  They pondered on
the scope afforded the daug,hter's genius by these employments; and, pondering, they decided.  The young girl went
upon the stage. She made a failure, — a dire, desperate,
seemingly hopeless failure. But sho remembered that many
a great genius has failed at first, only to triumph at last.
There was a plucky spirit in the girl's heart, and she did not
turn to the sewing-machine as a last resort.  Retiring again
to private life, she began to labor at art as no galley-slave
ever labored at the work to which he was sentenced.  Her
days and her nights were given to the worship of the goddess
she loved; and, on her reappearance on the stage, she was
tolerably, if not brilliantly, successful. Hler great virtue was
that she did not consider herself perfect; but day after day,
and night after night, she kept up that unceasing toil which
has now made her one of the most celebrated women of the
age and the only pure-blood prima doinna assoluta of whom
America cani boast."*
Surmounting, all obstacles, Miss Kellogg at last made her
P. F. Nicholson's "Town and Country."
463 
464   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
debut at the Academy of Music. This event took place
under Mr. J. Grau's management, in 1860, in "Rigoletto."
The attempt was a failure. In fact, it was only after her third
debut that the young vocalist succeeded. Since then her prog ress has been very rapid to that fime and fortune ri,ghtftlly
due to exalted merit and steadfast energy of character.  Very
early in her career she had the happiness to attract the atten tion of a munificent friend of art, -one of those wealthy
men, found here and there throughout society, who practically
consider that riches are given to them in order that they may
promote the general welfare of mankind.  That firiend was
Col. HI. G. Stebbins, of New  York, who formed so high
an estimate of Miss Kellogg,'s musical gifts, conceived so deep
an interest in her singularly delicate, refined, and gentle
nature, and foresaw such a bright future for her in art, that
he offered to charge himself with the care and cost of her
musical education. The offer was accepted by the parents
of the singer, and Col. Stebbins faithfully performed his
chosen work.  In truth, Miss Kellogg, was, in a measure,
adopted into the family of this sterling gentleman and generous friend, who has been to her a second father. Amongr the
music-teachers then  employed  for  her  cultivation were
Professor Milet, M. Rizuire, and M. Muzio.  One of her
earliest personations that attracted critical attention and inspired hope for her future, was her Gilda, in "Rigoletto,"
which she played at the Academy of Music, in 1861.  Her
first really great success, though, was made as Marygheita, in
Gounod's "Faust," which was first produced in New York,
in the season of 1864-65. Personal adaptability to the character was, doubtless, one of the chief sources of this success.
Margherita is a pure, delicate, gentle, loving, simple-hearted,
and simple-minded maiden; and Miss Kellogg filled this ideal,
not less in spirit than in outward seeming. Another of her
successes was made as Linda di Chamounix, in May, 1867. 
CLARA LOUISA KELLOGG.
Her acting, and singing, in the malediction scene, in act second
of this opela, -we still remembered, with lively emotions of
astonishment  and  admiration,  because of their  extraordinary vitality, tragic force, and  glittering precision of
method,  ill which art concealed every trace of  art and
wielded the magical wand of nature.  In addition to these,
Miss Kello,gg has made signal successes in' Crispino e la
Cominare," "Fra Diavola," "I1 Barbl)iere di Seviglia," "I Puritani," " L'Etoile du  Nord," "La  Sonnambula,   ""Martha,"
" Don Giovanni," "Lucia di Larninermoor," and "La Traviata."  Iher d6but in London was made on the 2d of November, 1867, as cMatrg/erita.  Few triumnphs so genuine and so
brilliant as hers have ever been won upon the London stage,
and no American musical artist has hitherto attained a reputation at all commensurate with that which Miss Kellogg, now
enjoys abroad. Her impersonations, indeed, and her delightful vocal powers have in a surprising manner affected both the
mind and the heart of the English people.   Many pages might
easily be filled with thoughtful and ardent praises of tlhe
singer, from the soundest critical journals in London.   A
single quotation from one of these will not here be misplkced,
as representative of the tone of European opinion respecting
the prima donna of whom the art-public of her native,America
is so justly proud.
"Miss Kellogg,"  said the London "Review," on the
Saturday subsequent to her de6but, " has for four or five
years patst enjoyed the highest renown in her ownl land, reports of whichl have long reached us here; and now we are
able to bear testimony to the truth of the praise which has
been bestowed on her by American, critics.  No ordeal could
have been found more severe than a first appearance as. Yargherira in Gounod's'Faust,' a part in which the London public has seen and heard some ei,ght or more artists, - some
80~~~~
30
465 
466    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
excellent, all more or less good.  Besides others, Madame
MIiolan-Carvalho (the original MVargherita in Paris), Mademoiselle Lucca, Mademoiselle Patti, Mademoiselle Titiens,
Mademoiselle Artot, and, last of all, Mademoiselle Christine
Nilsson, have all been heard here in this part, and have left
impressions which render it extremely difficult for any new(omer to succeed in the same character.  The great success,
therefore, of Miss Kellogg is decisive proof of her merits and
accomplishments. Her voice is a soprano of pure and even
quality, sufficiently brilliant in its upper portion, and intensely
sympathetic in its middle and lower range. She has perfect
command over a compass of two octaves, - her execution
and intonation evidencing that complete course of student
training, the necessary drudgery of which is so frequently
shirked by vocal aspirants, and more especially when gifted
with naturally fine voices, which are too generally considered
by their possessoirs to be the chief requisites for success;
whereas, in point of fact, the voice is but as an instrument
apart from the trained skill and art requisite to wield it.  Miss
Kellogg is one of those exceptional singers who, blessed with
a fine voice, have yet not presumed, on the strength thereof,
to neglect those minute and laborious details of vocal exercise
which form the requisite training for an executive artist.
These qualities are apparent in the certainty and precision
with which she intonates distant intervals, the note being at
once perfectly reached without that wavering which is sometimes perceptible in singers of great pretensions, whose practice of scales and so,feggi has not been sufficiently diligent.
Miss Kellogg's power, too, of sustaining a note with a prolong,ed dimninuendo, finishing, with an almost imperceptible
pianissimo,  unfalteringly in tune,  is another  proof of
thorough training.  Then her bravura-singing in florid ornamental passages has that distinctness and completeness of
style so seldom realized; while her shake is irreproachable in 
KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 467
closeness, evenness, and intonation. Beyond these technical
merits, Miss Kellogg, possesses a refinement and sensibility
of style, and a power of expression, aided by a voice of
naturally sympathetic quality, which impart a charm to her
performance not to be found in mere mechanical excellence.
Moreover, Miss Kello,gg is an excellent actress,- with an
intelligent and expressive face, a graceful figure, and that
propriety of gesture, action, and by-play, which denote that
the study of acting, apart from singingl,, has occupied more
of her attention than is usual with vocalists."
These views have the double merit of impartiality and truthfulness. In their estimate of the singer there is no extravagance.  Miss Kellogg is gifted with extraordinary powers,
by which, and by great and continual latbor, she has fairly
earned her eminence.  Nor can her victory be too highly
esteemed.  Success such as hers in the great art of musical
acting implies a rare union of splendid qualities of person,
mind, and character.  Exquisite sensibility,,lieen intuitions,
an unerring sense of symmietry, a wide grasp of emotions,
reason and imagination, sadness and glee, the power to fill as
well as the power to conceive an ideal, -all these must the
singer possess, who would interpret the human heart and the
immortal soul through the most heavenly medium of utterance that God has vouchsafed to his creatures.
V.
KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE).
In the career of  Kate Bateman - who,  at the age of
twenty-six years, shares the distinction of the mnost popular
actresses of her time- is seen a conspicuous illustration of the
force that is exercised in public life by purity of character 
468    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and integrity of purpose.   She possesses uncommon taleA,t,
and sterling accomplishments, and these she has employed
with a noble energy and singleness of purpose, and in a
pure, swveet, womanly spirit, that could not fail, and have
not f,liled, to win unb)ounded appreciation and symtnpathly.
The most important period in her professional life comprises
the last eight years.  Within that time she has won botb
fame and fortune.  Iher experience of the stage, however,
dates back to childhood;  and much of her more mature
facility is of course to be attributed to early professional
training.   She was born at Baltimore, Maryland,  on the
7th of October, 1842, being the second child of H. L. Bateman and Frances Bateman, -the former well and  widely
known as a theatrical manager, and the latter reputed as an
actress and a dramatic author.  Shortly after the birth of
Kate, her fiather, then in mercantile business, returned to
the stage, playing, in the domestic  drama, such parts as
liartin  Ileywood  in  "The  Rent  Day," and.lValter in
"The  Babes in the Wood."   On the 14th of December,
1847, at one of the theatres in Louisville, Kentucky, the
latter piece having been cast, and the children who usually
played the juvenile parts in it being unable to appear, tile
Bateman children, Kate and Ellen, -one five years old and
the other three, -made their first appearance on ally stage.
Their debut was an accident, but their success was signal.
They were very pretty and interesting little girls, and their
brightness and cleverness won all the more al)preciation because of their extreme youth. Then, too, parental sympathy
was touched by the spectacle of father and children plLying
upon the stage together, in such relations as are sustained by
Walter and the Babes.  In brief, all the f Lvorable influ ences combined to make a career and open a brilliant fiuture
for these children. Season after season they starred the
country under their father's management.  New parts were 
KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 469
found for them from time to time.  Kate used to be especially fine as Richard the Ttircd, which she was first cast in
at thle sti(rggestion of Mioses IKimball, in the old days of the
Boston Museum, which institution he originated.  IHer best
part, thoulgh,  was ]ienriette de  Vigny,  ill "The  Young
Couple."   In 1850 the Bateman Children were taken to
England, where, in all the great cities of the British Isles,
they found even more favor than they had found at home.
In August, 1852, they returned to America, and in 1856 they
retired from the stage.  Ellen was subsequently married and
is now Mrs. Claude Greppo.  IKate remained in retirement
and studied acting.  At length, in 1860, she reappeared on
the stage, in the character of Evangeline, in a drama, by her
mother, based on Longfellow's poem.  The performance,
thoug,h very pretty and pleasing,, did not, however, make a
deep impression upon the public mind.  It was seen in many
American cities, during the season of 1860-61, but was nowhere greeted with much enthusiasm.   In fact, since the
chief quality of the character of Evangeline is silent fortitude, its delineation affords but little scope for the vivid
display of dramatic powers.  The most that was possible for
the actress was to look like a saintly sufferer and to be picturesque in tableaux.  Two years afterwards Miss Bateman
ag,ain appeared in New  York- at the Winter Garden, in
April, 1862 -  as Julia, in "The IHunchback," and this time
she miade a prodigious popular sensation.  Following up this
success with a great deal of characteristic energy, she appeared as Lady  Gay  Spanker, in "London Assurance;"
Lady  Teazle, in "The School for Scandal;" Juliana, in
"The  IHoneymoon;" Juliet; Bianca, in " Fazio;" Geraldine, in her mother's tragedy of that name, - originally writtenl for Mattilda Heron,- and llPosa Gregorio, in a new drama,
written for her, by Mr. T. B. DeWalden.   Later in the
same year, in A ugust, at the same theatre, she played an 
470   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
oth(er engagement, which was signalized by the presentation
of her Lady MVacbeth.  Her best successes this year were
made in Julia, Bianca, Lady Gay, and Geraldine.  In all her
personations, however, the chief charm was the innate purity
of womanhood that shone through them. Very often her art
was defective.  In some parts (Juliet and Lady -Iacbeth, for
instance) she seemed utterly at sea,.  But no person of sensibility could witness her acting without being conscious of
contact with an earnest, delicate, womanly nature, that was
as refireshing to the mind, jaded by the all too prevalent
artifice of the stage, as is the cool, delicious fragrance of
trees and flowers and grass, after a light shower in a spring
day.  And not only did her nature charm by its ingenuous
sweetness and win by its purity: a certain fiery force of intellect was perceptible in it, now and then, - shown in the
fourth act of   The Hunchback," and in certain scenes of
Geraldine,"- that vitalized a style of acting which might
otherwise have sometimes seemed insipid. This fiery force,
combined with an acute perception of simple patthos, was
afterwards to find more abundant scope and more vivid expression. In December, 1862, Miss Bateman made her first
appearance as Leah, -a character with which her name is
now identified; and herein these qualities of her nature
were displayed with ample breadth.  Few single passages
in modern acting are more touching than  is her simple,
natural, tender scene with Rudolph's child, in the last act of
"Leah;" and few kindred efforts have electrified the multitude so much as has her delivery of Leah'.s curse, in the
churchyard scene in that drama. These, however, are facts
of such common knowledge, that it were needless to dwell
upon them. It should be mentioned, though, that the play
of "Leah" is an American adaptation of the German drama
of "Deborah," by Dr. Mosenthal, made by Mr. Augustirr
Daly.  Miss Batema's first appearance as Leah was made in 
KATE BATEMAN (MRS. GEORGE CROWE). 471
B13oston; but subsequently, for nearly a year, she starred the
country in that character, and everywhere attained new popularity. Hler first representation of it in New York was given
at Niblo's Garden, in January, 1863.  Mr. J. W. Wallack,
Jr., and Mr. Edwin Adams appeared in the cast, as Nathan,
the apostate Jew, and Rtudolph, the lover. In the autumn
of that year, Miss Bateman, accompanied by her ftLther as
manager, proceeded to London, where "Leah" was produced
in October, having just been revised and revamped by Mr.
John Oxeniford, dramatic  critic of the London  "Times."
That the performance was a success may readily be seen in
the remarkable fact that it was repeated for two hundred and
eleven nigihts in succession, before crowded houses, and
greeted with every possible manifestation of public and critical approval. WVriters were not wanting, indeed, to point
out, truthfully and frankly, the defects of Miss Bateman's
acting; yet its force, and its winning charm of fresh, young,
gentle personality were none the less recognized.
In the last three months of 1864 Miss Bateman fulfilled
prosperous and brilliant engagements in Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Dublin, and Glasgow.   The theatres
overflowed nightly, and the star of the young actress rose
still higcher in the skies of fame.  Returning to London in
the spring of 1865, she reappeared as Leah, and also played
Julia, Bianca, Pauline, and Geraldine, concluding her engagement, at the Adelphi, in July of that year.  When
autumn came, she made another tour of the principal British
provincial cities, in all of which she played, with abundant
success, a round of her favorite characters.  On her next
return to London, she received a complimentary benefit, at
Her Majesty's Theatre (since destroyed by fire), given to
signalize her farewell to England. The occasion is recorded
as one of the most delightful of its kind in recent stage life.
Miss Bateman played Juliet. Shortly afterwards she sailed 
EIEMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
for New Yoilk, arriving there on the 12thl of January, 1866.
On the 15thl of January, at Niblo's Garden, she reappeared
as Leah; anld here she acted, for the next six weeks, before
crow(led audiences.  She then proceeded to Boston, where
she found her popularity unaLbated.  Thence retiurninHg, she
reappeared at Niblo's; but was forced, by sudden and severe
illness, to relinquish her engagement, and to remain for several months in retirement.
In October, 1866, Miss Bateman became the wife of Dr.
Georgce Crowe, all English gentleman, sol of Eyre Evans
Crowe, author of a "History of France," and other works, and
for several years editor of the London "Daily News."  During
the year following her marriage, she did not a.pl)er in public
life; but, at le(ngth, having been entirely restored to health,
she accepted an engagement, offered by an Englishl manager,
and, on the 7th of October, 1867, she reappeared in Liverpool, as Leah, creating a still greater popular excitement
than before,- which also attended her professional progress,
at Brighton, Manchester, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, Dublin,
and Edinburgh.  She is now in retirement, at her husband's
residence, near the city of Bristol, England; but she wvill
return to the stage in October, 1868, and comnmence the season
at the London Haymarket Theatre, where she is elngaged for
a period of three months.
Her present is full of success, and her future is full of
promise.  Young, beautiful, distinguished, -  a happy wife,
an affectionate and cherished  daughter,  a simple-minded
woman,- she mnoves forward, beneath a sunny summer sky,
on a pathway that is strewn with roses.  Such wvomen honor
the stage by their presence upon it; and their personal assertion of the dignity of the dramatic art is more eloquent
and more practically effective than words can possibly be.
472 
HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN). 473
VI.
HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. THEODORE MARTIN).
For thirty years Helen Faucit has been a favorite actress
onl the English stage.  For thirty years she has amused and
instructed the British public, winning with ease, and wearing with grace, the golden crown of success.  In both of the
chief branches of dramatic art, as a tragic and as a comic
actress, she has attained lofty eminence; nor has she been
less esteemed as a woman than admired as an artist.  It
seems proper, therefore, to select her as the representative
Engl,ish actress of her time.  The portraits of Helen Faucit
-  portraits that, of course, were made long ago - represent
a tall, elegant figure; a frank, sweet, expressive, good face;
large dark-brown eyes, full of eager intelligence;  and a
stately head, fillely poised upon a swan-like neck, ajld crowned
with luxuriant dark hair that fills in abundant curls on her
snowy, sloping shoulders.  Such, doubtless, was the fair girl
who charmeed aln earlier generation of the lovers of art, in the
brighter days of the British drama.  tIleln Faucit comes of
a theatrical family.  HIer father and mother, and her three
brothers and two sisters, were all members of the dramatic
profession.  iHer early education for the stage was superintended by Mr. Percival Farren, of the Haymarket Theatre.
Her first public appearance was made at a theatre in Richmond, near London, in the autumn of 1833, in the character
of Juliet.  The announcement of her dgbtt ran thus: "A
young lady -  her first appearance on any stage."  The public received her kindly, and she seems to have played very
well.  But no novice can adequately personate Shakspeare's
Jtlliet.  The character taxes the art of a thorouhlly trained
actress; and, in general, it is much more truthfully interpretedcl by women of fifty, who have passed years upon the 
174   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
stage, than by the freshest beauties of ei,ghteen or twenty-fve.
Hielen Faucit's first appearance in London was made on the
5th of January, 1836, at Covent Garden Theatre, as Julit, in
the well-known "Hllunchback."  One extremely interesting
incident marked the occasion, showing that imperial firmness
of mind, under the most trying circumstances, is not incompatible with the utmost gentleness of womanly temperament.
There was a very large audience present in the theatre; and
being broug,ht, for the first time, to the test of such tremendous physical magnetism, the nervous power of the young
actress faltered, and she succumbed to the icy spell of stagefri,ghlt. Her performance, as a matter of course, came very
near to being a dead failure.  At leingth, as the second act
was drawing heavily to a close, she caught sight, in the orchestra, of the white head and tear-dimmed eyes of her oldest
and dearest friend,- a venerable gentleman, whose paternal
love and fostering care had cheered and encouraged all her
young ambitions. "That white head," she afterwards remarked, " seemed to fill the theatre." Fired by the thought
of this friend's past confidence in her talents, and present
anguish in prospect of her failure, the actress made a great
effort, suddenly recalled her will to its sovereign seat, and so
turned the current of her fortune from defeat to victory. Her
voice rose loud and clear, and.all the fervor of her spirit
came into play. As a matter of course, her audience quickly
recognized the change, and felt the spell of genuine talent;
-and their hearty plaudits ratified her success.  That success
has known  "no retiring ebb," but has steadily increased
into such eminence as is only won and kept by commandiing,
talents and unsullied integrity.  Helen Faucit's next appearance was made as the heroine of "Venice Preserved."  After
that she played Mrs. Hallet, and acted the chief part in
Joanna Baillie's new drama of "Separation," which had,
however, only a short life. But her chief success that season 
HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN). 475
was Clemanthe, in Talfourd's "Ion," - (of which Ellen Tree
was the ori,ginal). For her benefit, on the 20th of June, 183(6,
she played 3lrs. Beverley, in the' Gamester," and very
deeply touched the hearts of her audience, by her affecting
picture of the poor wife's anguish and devotion.  Even thus
early she seems to have excelled in characters requiring for
their portrayal deep feeling and exquisite tenderness.  In the
following, season, she personated the chief female part in
Bulwer Lytton's drama of " The Duchess de la Valliere," - a
piece of French extraction, then produced for the first time.
It failed, though, and it is never heard of now.   On the 18th
of April, 1837, Helen Faucit made a hit as Portia.   Mr.
Macready took the lease of Covent Garden Theatre in that
year, and made haste at once to engage her in his dramatic
company.  It will be seen that, from the outset, she faithfully
and strenuously worked in the stock companies, which was
the secret of her sure progress. Macready kept Covent Gardell two years; and, in the course of that time, Helen Faucit
played many important parts.  Bulwer Lytton's "Lady of
Lyons" was, for the first time, acted, during this term of
management, -early in 1838, -  and Helen Faucit was the
original Paulne, to the Claude Melnotte of Macready.  On
the 10th of October, 1839, the tragedian abandoned Covent
Garden, and accepted an engagemaent, under Mr. Webster
at the Iaymarket, Helen Faucit and Mrs. Warner  being
elected to second him in a round of his chief performances.
On the 26th of October, 1841, when Macready again assumed
the reins of managenient, in taking the lease of Drury Lane,
Helen Faucit was again engaged as leading lady: and certainly it is no slight testimony to the ability and culture of
the actress, that she was thus thrice chosen, to fill a position
of the first importance, by an actor so exacting, so coldly
intellectual, and so hard to please, as the famous tragedian is
wvell known to have been. Many new pieces were tried, 
176    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
under the new administration of Drury Lane, and in most of
them Helen Faucit had to study- and, as the stagce-phlrase
is, " create "-  new parts.  "Plirhted Troth," " The Blot in
the Scutcheon,"" Gysippus," and "The Patrician's Daughter,"
may be mentioned among the new drainas, that then, for the
first time, saw the light.   In all of these IHelen Falucit
appeared, and she also sustained leading parts inl MIacready's
Shakspearean and other revivals; thus participating in the
honors of one of the most brilliant periods of enterprise that
are recorded in the history of the British drama.  She was
the original Julie, ill Bulwer Lytton's "Richelieu," and the
ori,ginal Josephine, in Byron's "Werner."   When Macready
finally abandoned  management, Helen Faucit betook  herself to the "star" system, and went illto the provinces.
Engag,ements were numerously offered, and successes were
numerously achieved.  This portion of her career need not
detain minute attention.  The actress who has once become
a popular favorite, has but to fulfil, under the starring systemn, the usual routine of travelling, from city to city, and
playing at theatre after theatre, with various business, it is
true, but generally with prosperous results, and almost always
with increase of fatle.  For some years past, Helen Faucit
has played irregularly, only acceptiing engagenielts here and
there, under entirely agreeable and advantageous circumstances.  She is the wife of Theodore Martin, whose repute
in literature, as anl able, versatile, and brilliant writer, assulredly needs no bush, and whose rank in the world of English
letters is sufficiently indicated by the flact that the Queen of
Engl,and has selected him to write the Life of tlte deceased
Prince Consort.  She has never visited the United States;
nor, as she is now upwards of fifty years of age, is it likely
that she ever will come to this country, on a professional
expedition.  American knowledge of her acting, therefore,
must depend on the study of English stage records and Eyng 
HELEN FAUCIT (MRS. T. MARTIN)
lishl criticism.  Those authorities bear ample testimony to
the brilliancy of her past career and the sterliing worth of
her talents and character.  Adverse opinion has contented
itself with calling, her "MIacready in white muslin."  It is not
tllnlattllral that her temperament and her style of actilig should
have been influencedcl by the strong individuality of that remarkable  actor.   Few  players  who  have yielded to the
enchantment of Macready's art have ever been able entirely
to  discard his mannerisms in their own playing.  Helen Faucit's native merits, however, are such as far outweigh  her
borrowed  defects.   A  recent critic, Mrs.  S. C. Hall, describes her, as follows, in wortls that clearly depict a true
artist and gifted woman:
She bears home to the imagination one great harmonious
impression of whatever character she is impersonating; but
when we look back and analyze that impression, we feel what
a wealth of subtle details has gone towards producing it,
with what exquisite graduations it has been worked up to its
crowning climax....  All she says and does seems to
grow out of the situation as if it were seen and heard for the
first time.... With the ever-wakeful conscientiousiess of a real artist, Helen Faucit is continually striving after
a higher completeness in all she does.  }Ier characters seem
to be to her living things, ever fresh, ever full of interest,
and on which her imagination is ever at work.  They must
mingle with her life, even as the thick-coming faincies of the
poet mingle with his. As, therefore, hler rare womanly nature deepens and expands, so do they take a richer tone and
become interfused with a more accomplished grace.
I have often, in former dclays, seen her, bv her intense power of
shlaping imagination, make characters harmonious which were
mere tissues of shreds and patches, and personages'movingnatural, and full of life,' which, as the author drew them,
477 
478    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
were hollow phantasms. Conspicuously has she done so
with the'Lady of Lyons.' I saw her when this play was
first produced, and memory is sufficiently strong to compare
the actress of that time with the actress of to-day.  She can
be compared with none other than herself; for no actress,
since IHelen Faucit made the character so essentially her own,
has approached her in its delineation. It was then acting of
rare grace, and truth, and power; it is now all that, but
much more. Time, and study, and refined judgment have
enabled her to perfect that which was admirable in its earliest
conception.   I recall the sensation that moved a crowded
house after the curtain fell on the first representation of
the'Lady of Lyons.' There was a rumor that it was the
production of Lytton Bulwer, -a rumor only, which, so
carefully was the secret kept, some of his most intimate
friends emphatically denied. The play, it is needless to say,
made an immediate success.   It has retained its place as
one of the stock pieces of the stage ever since. There is
now, indeed, no Claude Melnotte to be compared with Macready, although he was by no means young when he performed that youthful part; nor has any one ever approached
him in it.  But Helen Faucit is far nearer the ideal Pauline
now than she was in those days; and it is easy to imagine
the delight of Lord Lytton in witnessing that which it is not
too much to say surpasses, in refined grace and intellectual
power, the part as he created it.
" Her Pauline is in truth a perfect performance. It has that
charm which comes only from the inspiration of genius; for
at the root of. all art lies the passion, which, as the great
French actor Baron said, sees farther than art. But it is also
the perfection of art where art is never, even for a moment,
seen; the result of careful and continuous study, but with
the ease and force of nature in every word, look, and motion.
So is the character worked out from the beginning to the end."  
M<~~~~~~~~b-C 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
BY MRS. ELIZABETH CADY STANTON.
IN listening to the many interesting incidents of this young
girl's life, not all entrusted to me for publication, my feelings
have vacillated between pity and admiration, - pity, for all the
trials of her childhood and youth, in loneliness, poverty, and
disappointment;  and admiration for the indomitable will,
courage, and rare genius, by which she has carved her way,
with her own right hand, to fame and independence.   While
so many truly great women, of other times and countries,
have marred their fair names, and thrown suspicion on their
sex by their vices and follies, this noble girl, through all
temptations and discouragements, has maintained a purity,
di,gnity, and moral probity of character, that reflect honor on
herself, and glory on her whole sex.
Anna Elizabeth Dickinson was born in Philadelphia the
28th of October, 1842. Her father, John Dickinson, was a
merchant of sound intellect, and moral principle, a clear,
concise reasoner, an earnest abolitionist, and took an active
part in the anti-slavery discussions of that time.  He was a
benevolent, trusting man, and through the noblest traits of
his character became involved in his business relations, and
was reduced to poverty.  His misfortunes preyed upon his
minid and health; and he died soon after with a disease of
the heart, leaving a wife and five children, Anna, the young
479 
480   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
est, but two years old.  The last night of his life was passed
in an anti-slavery meeting, where hle spoke earnestly; and
cn his way home, not feeling well, he stopped at a drti,gg,ist's
to get some medicine, and died there without a struggle.
Her mother, Mary Edmundson, was born in Delaware, of
an aristocratic family. She is a woman of refinement and
cultivation, and was carefully reared in conditions of ease
and luxury.
Both were descendants of the early Quaker settlers, and
rigid adherents to the orthodox Friends. Their courtship
lasted thirteen years, showing, the persistency and fidelity of
the father on one side, and the calm deliberation of the
mother on the other.  As a baby, Anna was cross, sleepless,
restless, and cr3ying continually with a loud voice, thus preparing her lungs for future action.  She was a wayward,
wilfiil, intensely earnest, imaginative child, catising herself
and her elders much trouble and unhappiness.  They, seeing
her impatience of control, endeavored to "break her will," - a
saying that has worked as much cruelty in the world as the
proverb of Solomon, "Spare the rod and spoil the child."
Fortunately they did not succeed, and through the triumph
of that inldoniital)le will we boast to-day that the most popular
American orator is a woman. She was considered an incorrigible child at school as well as at home.  Thotugh she always
knew her lessons, the absurd and arbitrary discipline so chafed
her free spirit that she was generally in a state of rebellion.
With courageous defiance she would submit to punishment
rather than rules she thought foolish and unnecessary.   She
had an intuitive knowledge of character, and early sawv the
hypocrisy, deceit, and sham of the world, -the hollowness
of its ceremonies, forms, and opinions; and with vwonderful
powers of sarcasm  she could lay bare the faults and follies
of those about her. Hence she was a terror to timid, designing
teachers and scholars; and good children were warned against 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
her influence. Yet, as she iwas ever the champion of those
who suffered wrong and injustice, she had warm friends and
admirers among her schoolmates.
She says she always felt herself an Ishmaelite amoing children, fighting not only her own battles, but for those too
timid and shriuking to fight for themselves.  Her school-days
were days of darkness and trial. Owing to her mother's
limited means, she was educated in the free schools of the
Society of Friends. Meeting there the children of wealthy
Quakers, they would laugh at her poverty, and thoughtlessly
askli her " why she wore such common clothes." She would
promptly reply, "My mother is poor, and we work for all we
have."  Although she accepted her condition with bravery,
she determined to better it as fast as she could; yet such
taunts were alike galling to her and cruel in those who
uttered them. Nevertheless, they were not without their
power in developing the future woman; so far from depressing her youthful energies, they stung her into a nobler life.
In her hours of solitude she would resolve to lift herself
above their shafts, to make a home for her mother, and surround her with every comfort.  Thus great souls feed and
grow on what humbles smaller ones to dust.
Her love for her mother was the strongest feeling in her
nature,        and it was to relieve her from constant toil that she
early desired some profitable employment that she might
earn mo oney for her own support.  It was the sorrow of her
childhood to see her mother pale and worn, struggling with
all her multiplied cares,- for, in addition to her own family,
she k    ept boarders and taught a private school.  Thus,. with
ceaseless love and care and industry, that noble woman  fed
and clothed and educated her fatherless children, and to-day
has the satisfaction of seeing them all noble men and women;
an      d  mid peace and plenty she remembers the long, days of
darkness, poverty, and self-denial no more.   For the encour           31
481 
482    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
agement of those parents who have wayward, wilful children,
I would mention the fact that Anna, who was a greater trial
to her mother than all her other children and cares put together, is now her pride, her comfort, and her support.
When  about twelve years old she  entered  " Westown
Boarding-School of Friends," in Chester County, and remained there two years; from this she went to "Friends'
Select School" in Philadelphia, where she applied herself so
diligently to her studies, that, although she pursued over a
dozen branches at one time, she seldom failed in a recitation.
During all her school-days, she read with the greatest
avidity every book that she could obtain.  Newspapers,
speeches, tracts, history, biography, poetry, novels, and fairy
tales were all alike read and relished. For weeks and
months together her average hours for sleep were not five
in the twenty-four.  She would often read until one o'clock
ill the morning, and then seize her school-books and learn
her lessons for the next day. She did not study her lessons,
for, with her retentive memory, what she read once was hers
forever. The rhymes and compositions she wrote in her
young days bear evident marks of genius.  WThen fourteen
years old she published an article headed " Slavery" in the
"Liberator." She early determined that she would be a public
speaker.  One of her greatest pleasures was to get a troop
of children about her and tell them stories; if she could fix
their attention and alternately convulse them with laughter,
and melt them to tears, she was perfectly happy.  She loved
to wander all over the city alone, to think her own thoughts,
and see what was going on in the outer world. One of her
favorite  rendezvous was  the Anti-slavery Office in Fifth
Street; where she would stay for hours to hear people talk
about the horrors of slavery, or to read papers, tracts, and
books on that subject. At seventeen she left school.
She was skilful in all kinds of housework, and orderly in 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
her arrangements.  She was willing to do any kind of work
to make an honest living.  No service however hard, or
humble, seemed menial to her.  Being a born queen, she felt
she dignified whatever she touched; even the broom became
a sceptre of royalty in her hand.
When about thirteen years old she visited a lawyer's office
one day, on her way from school, and asked for some copying,.  tie, pleased with the appearance of the brilght child,
asked her if she intended to do it herself; she said, Yes. He
gave her some, which she did so well that he interested himself at once in her behalf, and secured her work from other
offices as well as his own.  How she could get moneyto buy
books was the one thought; next to hlelping, her mother, that
occupied hermind.  Tothis end she would (lo anything,,- run
errands, carry bundles, sweep walks, - and as soon as she had
obtained the desired sum, she would buy a bookl, read it with
the greatest avidity, then taklie it to a second-hand book-store
and sell it for a fraction of its cost alld get another.   When
seven years old she would take B3yron's works, secrete herself
under the bed that she mi,ght not be disturbed, and read for
hours.  There was something in the style, spirit, and rhythm,
that she enjoyed, even before the thought was fulily understood.
She had a passion for oratory, and when Curtis, Phillips, or
Beecher lectured in Philadelphia, she  would perform  any
service to get money enough to go.  On one occasion she
scrubbed a sidewalk for twenty-five cents, to hear Wendell
Phillips lecture on "The Lost Arts."  There are many very
interesting anecdotes of her life during this period, illustrating
her fortitude under most trying circumstances and her strong
faith in a promisiing future.  Through her magnetism and
self-confidence she went forward and did inany- thlings gracefully and unchallenged, that others of her sex and age would
not have had the courage or presumption to attempt.  There
was somethi)ng so irresistible in her falce and manner that entire
483 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
strangers would yield her privileges, which others vwouild not
dclare to ask.  Ill her fourteenth year while with relatives ill
the country, duringc the holidays, she attended a MIethodist
protracted meetingl, and was deeply moved on the subject of
religion, was converted and joined the chlurch.  I1cr mind,
however, was much disturbed on theological questions for
several years, but after great distress andcl uncertainty, with
the opposing, doctrines and opinions she heard on all sides,
she found rest at last-in the liberal views of those who taught
that religion was life,- faith in the goodness, and wisdom of
God's laws, and love to man.  She disliked the silent Quaker
meetings, alld made every excuse to avoid them. Ier repudiation of that faith was a source of unhappiness both to her
family and herself.  About this time she spent a few months
as a pupil and assistant teacher in a school at New Brighton,
B3eaver County; but as her situation there was not pleasant,
she applied for a district school that was vacant in that town.
About to make the final arrangenients with the committee, she
asked what salary they gave.  One gentleman rem-arked " A
manl  has taught this school heretofore, and we gave him
twenty-eight dollars a month; but we should not give a girl
more thlan sixteen."  There was something in his mamnner and
tone so insultiing that her pride compelled her to scorn the
place she needed, and, drawing herself up to her full proportions, she said with great vehemence, "Sir, are you a fool, or
do you take me for one?   Though I am too poor to-dclay to
buy a pair of cotton gloves, I would rather go in rags, than
degrade my womanhood by accepting anything at your hands.'
And she shook the dust of that place from her feet, and went
home to struggle on with poverty, firm in the faith of future
success.  Young,  inexperienced, penniless, withl  but few
fiiends, and none knowingvi, her greatest trials, she passed
weeks looking for a situation, in vain.  At last she was
offered a place as saleswoman in a stores which she accepted;
484 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
but finding, that it was her duty to misrepresent goods to
customers, she left at once, because she would not violate
her conscience with the tricks of trade.
The  distinctions she saw everywhere between boys  and
girls, men and women,  giving, all the opportunities and
advantages of life to one sex, early filled her with indignation, and she determined to resist this tyranny wherever she
found it.  Sitting at home one Sunday in January, 1860, she
read a notice that the "Association of Progressive Friend"
would hold a meeting, that afternoon, to discuss "woman's
rig,hts and wrongs."  She resolved to go, and, in company
with another young, girl, was there at the appointed hour.
Tenl minutes were allowed the speakers to present their
op)osing views.  "It was my good fortune," says Dr. Longshore, "to be there, and to announce at the opening of the
meeting, that ladies were particularly invited to speak, as the
subject was one in which they were interested.   In response
to this invitation, after several persons had spoken,  Anna
arose nea the centre of the hall.  Her yotuthful filce, black
curls, and bright eyes, her musical voice, subdued and impressive manner, commanded at once the attention of the
audience. She spoke twice, her allotted time, and right to
the point.  These were her first speeches in public, and her
auditors will long remember that day."   She gave a new
impulse to the meetings and a fresh interest in the association
for months afterward.
The next Sunday she spoke again, and on the same subject.  Anl attempt was made, by an opponent, by inlterruptions, foolish questions, sneers, and ridicule to put her down.
This was a tall, nervous, bilious man, who spoke with the
arrogance and assumption usual in that type of manhood,as if he were a partner of the Most Hilgh in giving law to the
universe; as if it were his special mission to map out the
sphere of woman, the paths wherein she might withl safety
485 
486   EMIlNENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
walk.  By some  magnetic law he fixed his eyes on this
stranOge girl, into whose soul the floods of indignation were
pouringo thick and fast; and when he finished, the scene that
followed was almost tragic.  She rose, her feeling,s at white
heat, and, with flashing, eye and crimson cheek, she turned
upon her antagonist, looking him square in the face, and
poured out the vials of her pent-up wrath, -the sum of all the
wrongs she had felt through struggling girlhood; the insults
to womanhood she had read and heard; the barbarisms of
law, of custom, and of daily life, that but for the strong will
God had given her to resist, would have ground her, with the
multitudes of her sex, to powder.  She poured out such
volleys of invective, sarcasm, and denunciation, painted the
helplessness of women with such pathos and power, giving,
touching incidents of her own hard experience, that her
antagonist sunk lower and lower into his seat and bowed his
head in silence and humiliation, while those who witnessed
the scene were melted to tears.  Never was an audience more
electrified and amazed than were they with the eloquence and
power of that young girl.  No one knew who she was, or
whrence she came; but all alike felt her burningi words, and
withering scornl of him who had dared to be the mouth-piece
of such time-honored insolence and cant about the sphere of
woman.  Pointing strailght at him, and, with each step approaching nearer where he sat, saying, You, sir, said thus
and so, she swept away his arguments, one by one, like cobwebs before a whirlwind, and left him not one foot of ground
whereon to stand.  When she finished, he took his hat and
sneaked out of the meeting, like a whipped spaniel, to the
great amusement of the audience, leaving the sympathies of
tlhe audience with the brave young girl.
From this hour Elwood and Hannah Longshore became
Anna's most faithful and trusted friends and advisers.  They 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
appreciated her genius, comprehended the difficulties of her
position, and gave her a helping hand in securing means of
support.  They encouralgedl her ambition to become a public
speaker. So intense and earnest was she in all her desires,
that she easily surmounted every difficulty to secure her ends.
No lions ever crouched in her path; it was the real, not the
ina,iliary, that blocked her way.
Soon after the scene in the Sunday meeting, two gentlemen called at her home one day and inquired for Ainna Dickillson.  They had heard her speak, and were so much pleased
that they desired to know something of her family and surroundings.  As soon as they inquired for Ainna, the mother's
heart stood still, supposing that these men had come to complain of some of her pranks in the neighborhood; and she
was by no means relieved, when she heard that her daughter
had made a speech in a public meeting on Sunday, and they
had come to congratulate her on her success.
Iler public career was at first a great mortification to her
mother, who felt that by this erratic course she was bringing,
shame and humiliation on her family, never dclreamingo that
she was so soon to occupy one of the proudest positions
before the American people, to distinguish her family, and
place them in conditions of ease and luxury.  But she shared
the common fate of genius,- persecution in the house of its
friends.  At this time she became a constant visitor at the
house of Dr. Longshore, and found there the affection and
wisdom, the warm and sympathizing friendship, her generous
and impulsive nature most needed for its development and
control.   They took her to their hearts, cared for her in
every way, and to this day she calls their house her home.
"We felt towards her," says Dr. Longlshore,  as if she
were our own ch.ild, and she lingered with us in her visits
with filial devotion. We were the first strangers to manifest
487 
88   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
an interest in her welfare and future plans, and she reciprocated our friendship with  confidence  and love.   She was
always so happy, so full of hope and life, that her presence
seemed like that of an angel.  Hour after hour, in the evening, when all was still, she would entertain us with her varied
experiences, at home, in school, in church, in company, with
her teachers, playmates, and strangers, with her efforts to
get books, clothes, comforts, laughing and  crybig by turn.
Her recitals were so fll, glowing; and eloquent, that we took
no note of the passing time, and the midnight hours would
often find us lingering still, pleased and patient listeners of
this strange child's life."
After reading some thrilling account of the slave system,
one night, she had a remarkable dream.   She tlhought she
was herself a slave-girl, the victim of all the terrible experiences of that condition. The toil, the lash, the starvation
and nakedness, the auction-block, the brutality of driver and
owner, were all so vividly painted on her imagination that
she could not rid herself of the horrid realities of that system.
She could never speak on that subject in public or private,
but this terrible memory would come vividly back to her,
intensifying her feelings, and giving an added power to her
words.
After atteuclnding the meeting of Progressive Friends for
several weeks, she was invited to speak in MullicaHill, New
Jersey, and on the first Sunday in April, 1860, she made the
first speech to which she had given any previous thoulght.
The  large school-house  vwas crowded;  her subject  was
"Woman's Worlk."  Speaking from the depths of her own
experience, she held the audience in breathless silence for over
an hour.  There was an indescribable pathos in her fiull, rich
voice, that, aside from what she said, touched the hearts of
her hearers, and moved many to tears. Her power seemed 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
miraculous to the people, and they would not disperse until
she promised to speak again ill the evening,.  Some one remarked at thle adjournment, "If Lucretia Mlott had made that
speech, it would be thought a great one."  In the evening,
she spoke on the sul)ject of slavery, for the first time, and
with equal effect.  A collection of several dollars was taken
up for her, the first she ever received for giving an address.
Failing to find employment in Philadelphia, she.accepted,
as a last resort, a district school in Bucks  County, with a
salary of twenty-five dollars a month.  She camne home once
in two weeks to take part in the Sunday meetiings.  On her
eiglhteenthl birthday she went to IKennett Square, -a small
village thirty-two miles from Philadelphia, -to attend an
anti-slavery mneeting that remained in session two days.   She
spoke on slavery and non-resistance.  Il that doctrine of
F'riends she had no faith.  A discussion arose as to the right
and duty of slaves to forcible resistance.  She and Robert
Purvis, who was in the chair, spoke ill the affirmative, and,
in a protracted discussion, maintained their opillion, against
the majority, "that resistance to tyranny is obedience to
God."  Anna wound up one of her glowing periods with the
words of Lovejoy: "If I were a slave, and had thle power,
I would bridge over the chasm which yawns between the hell
of slavery and the heaven of freedom, with carcasses of the
slain."  The effect of her speech was startling,, and thrilled
the whole audience.  Robert Purvis unconsciously rose from
his chair, and bent forward, electrified with a new hope of
liberty for his race, looking,as if their fate rested on her lips.
During her summer vacation she spoke several times to
large audiences in New  Jersey.  On one occasion, in the
open air in a beautiful grove, where hundreds had assembled
to hear her, she spoke both morning and afternoon on tenmperance and anti-slavery, prodclucing a profound  sensation.
At another time several Methodist clergymen had assembled
489 
490   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
to lay the corner-stone of a new church ill a village where
she was announced to speak.  They went to hear her, from
mere curiosity, in rather a sneericng frame of mind; she, knowing that filet, was moved to speak with more than usual
pathos and power.  They made themselves quite merry in
the beginning, but before she closed they were serious, subdued, and in tears.  The next day one of them introduced
himself to her, and said,'I have always ridiculed'WoUman's
Riights,' but, so help me God, I never shall ag,ain."  At all
these meetiings contributions were taken up for her belnefit,
and she began to think that this might prove to be her mieans
of support.  On the evening of the day that she closed her
school, she advertised a mueeting to be held in the schoolhouse, but the crowvd was so great that they adjourned to a
church near by.   She spoke on  WoIman's Work;" and with
the novelty of the subject and the whole proceeding, she
quite startled that stolid comlmlnunity.
Shortly after this she attended another anti-slavery meetingi at IKennett Square.  This meeting, held just in the beginning of the war, was rather an exciting one, and prolongaed
discussions arose on the duties of abolitionists to existing
laws and constitutions.  In the report from " Forney's Press"
we find the following notice -
"The next speaker was a Miss Anna E. Dickinson, of Philadelphia, aged seventeen
years, -handsome, of an expressive countenance, plainly dressed, and eloquent beyond
her years. After the listless, monotonous harangues of the previous part of the day,
the distinct, earnest tones of this juvenile Joan of Arc were very sweet and charming.
During her discourse, which was frequently interrupted, Miss Dickinson maintained
her presence of mind, and uttered her radical sentiments with augmented resolution
and plainness. Those who did not sympathize with her remarks were softened by her
simplicity and solemnity. Her speech was decidedly the feature of the evening, provocative as it was of numerous, unmanly interruptions, and followed by discussion of prolonged and diversified interest. Miss Dickinson, we understand, is a member of the
Society of Friends, and had been solicited, several times during the day, to address the
audience, but waited for the inspiration of the evening, which came in the shape of
Mrs. Grew's remarks. They were told, said Miss Diclkinson, to maintain constitutions
because they were constitutions, and compromises because they were compromises 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON
But what were compromises, and what was laid down in those constitutions? Eminent
lawgivers have said that certain great fundamental ideas of right were common to the
world, and that all laws of man's making which trampled upon those ideas wvere null
and void,- wrong to obey, but right to disobey. The Constitution of the United
States sat upon the neck of those rights, recognizes human slavery, and makes the souls
of men articles of purchase and of sale."
There is not space to give her admirable speech on the
higher law, nor the discussion that followed, in which Miss
Dickinson maintained her position with remarkable clearness
and coolness for one of her years. The flattering reports of
this meeting in several of the Philadelphia journals introduced her to the public.
On the evening of the 27th of February she addressed an
audience of about eight hundred persons in Concert Hall,
Philadelphia. She spoke ftull two hours extemporaneously,
and the lecture was pronounced a success.  Many notables
and professional men were present; and, although it was considered a marvellous performance for a young girl, Miss
Dickinson herself was mortified, as she said, with the length
of her speech, and its lack of point, order, and arraingemenlt.
She felt that she was not equal to the occasion; instead of
being flattered with the praises bestowed upon her, she was
filled with reg'et that she had not made a more careful and
thoughtful preparation. But she learned an important lesson
from what she considered a failure, worth more than it cost
her.
Spring was opening, and her fresh young, spirit and strong
will demanded some  new avenues to labor, some active,
profitable work.  In her searches for something to do, says
a friend, "I met her one day in the street; said she,'I must
work. I dislike the confinement and poor pay of schoolteaching; but I shall go crazy unless I have work of some
kind.  Why can't I get into the Mint?'  After considering
the possibilities of securing a place there, for some time, our
plans were made, and, after many persistent efforts, we suc
4-91 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ceeded." In April she entered the United States Miint, to labor
from seven o'clock in the morning, to six at night for twentyeight dollars a month.   She sat on a stool all those long hours,
in a close, inmpure atmosphere, the windows and doors being
always closed in the adjusting room, as the least draft of air
would vary the scales.  She soon became very skilful in her
new business, and did twice the amount of work of most
other girls.  She was the fastest adjuster in the Milnt; but
she could not endure the confinement, and soon changed to
the coining-roomu.  But this dull routine of labor did not
satisfy her higher nature.  After the day's work was done,
she would go to the hospitals to write letters for the sick
soldiers, to read to themn, and talk over the incidents of the
war.  Many things conspired to make her situation in the
Minit undesirable.  The character and conversation of the inmates were disagreeable to her; hence she kept them at a
distance, while, her opilnions on slavery and woman's rights
being known, she was treated with reserve and suspicion in
return.  In November she made a speech in Westchester on
the events of the war, which increased this state of feeling
towards her, and culminated in her discharge fiom the Minit,
in the Christmas holidays.  This meeting was held just after
the battle of Ball's Bluff.  Inl summing up the record of this
battle, after exonerating Stone and Baker, she said, "History
will record that this battle was lost, not throulgh ignorance
and incompetence, but through the treason of the commandimg general, George B. McClellan, and time will vindicate
the truth of my assertion."  She was hissed all over the
house, thoug,h somne cried, " Go on," " Go on."  She repeated
this startling assertion three times, and each time was hissed.
Years after, when McClellan was running, against Lincoln in
1864, when she had achieved a world-wide reputation, she
was sent by the Republican committee of Pennsylvania, to
this same town, to speak to the same people, in the same
492 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
hall.  In agiain summing up the incidents of the war, when
she came to Ball's Bluff, she said, "I say now, as I said three
years ago, history will record that this battle was lost, not
through ignorance or incompetence, but through the treason
of the commnanding general, George B. McClellan." " And
time has vindicated your assertion," was shouted all over the
house.  It was this speech, made in 1861, that cost her place
in the Mint.  Ex-Governor Pollock dismissed her, and owned
that his reason was the Westchester speech, for ait that time
lIcClellan was the idol of the nation.  She says that was the
best service the Governor could have rendered her, as it
forced her to the decision to labor no longer with her hands
for bread, but to open some new path for herself.
She continued speaking, during the winter, in many of the
neig,hboringlr towns, on the political aspects of the war.  As the
popular thought was centring everywhere on national questions, she began to think less of the special wrongs of women
and negroes, and more of the causes of revolutions, and the
true basis of government. These broader views secured her
popularity, and made her available in party politics at once.
In the mean time Mr. Garrison, having heard Anna Dickinson
speak at Westchester and Longwood, and being both charmed
and surprised with her oratorical power, invited her to visit
Boston, and make his house her home.  Before going to Boston some friends desired that she should make the same speech
in Philadelphia that had occasioned her dismissal from the
lIint.  Accordingly, Concert IHall was enzgaged.   Judge
Pierce, an early friend of woman's rights, presided at the
meeting, and introduced her to the audience.  She had a full
house, at ten cents admission, was received with great enthusiasm, and acquitted herself to her own satisfaction, as well
as that of her friends.  After all expenses were paid she
found herself the happy possessor of a larger sum of money
than she had ever had before; and now, in consultation with
493 
494    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
good Dr. Hannah Longshore, it was decided that she should
have her first silk dress. With this friend's advice and blessing, she went to New England to endure fresh trials and disappointments before securing that unquestioned reputation
and pecuniary independence she enjoys to-day.  Thronigh the
infliuence and friendship of Mr. Garrison she was invited to
speak in Theodore Parker's pulpit on Sunday morning, as
leading reformers were then doing.  Accordingly she spoke,
in Music Hall, on the "National Crisis."  Her first lecture in
Boston was the greatest trial she ever experienced. IIer
veneration for the character of a Boston audience almost overmatched her couragre and confidence in her ability to sustain
herself through such an ordeal. Her friends also had mnisgivingrs, and feared a failure, as they noticed that Anna could
neither sleep nor eat for forty-eight hours previous to the lecture.  Some were so confident that she would fail to meet the
expectations of the immense audience, that they refused to
sit on the platform. Mr. Garrison opened the meeting. He
read a chapter of the Bible, and consumed some time ill remarks in order to make the best of the dilemma, which, in
common  with  many, he, too, apprehended,  while  Anna
waited behind him to be "presented," in an agony of suspense she striuggled to conceal.  At last she was introduced,
and begani in some broken, hesitating sentences; but, gradually
becomitg absorbed in her subject, she forgot herself and her
new surroundings, and so completely held the attention and
interest of the audience for over an hour that the fears of her
friends were turned to rejoicings, the anticipations of the few
were more than realized, and her own long anxious hours of
prayers and tears were forgotten in the proud triumph of that
day.  At the close she was overpowered with thanks, praises,
and salutations of love and gratitude.  As she delivered this
lecture in several of the New Engl(a,nd cities I give the
following notice: 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
'"TuE NEW STAR. - If to have an audience remain quiet, attentive, and sympathizing during the delivery of a long lecture, is any indication of the ability, tact, and success of the speaker, we think it may be claimed for Miss Dickinson that she is a compeer worthy to be admitted as a particular star in the large and brilliant constellation
of genius and talent now endeavoring to direct the country to the goal of negro emancipation.
"Music Hall was filled to overflowing; hundreds of the audience went early, and
must have sat there more than an hour before the lecture began; and, yet, we do not
remember to have seen less signs of weariness and inattention at any lecture we ever
attended in this city. Her voice is clear and penetrating, without being harsh; her
enunciation is very distinct, and at times somewhat rhythmic in its character, with
enough of a peculiar accent to indicate that her home has not been in Massachusetts.
Her whole appearance and manner are decidedly attractive, earnest, and expressive.
Her lecture was well-arranged, logical, and occasionally eloquent, persuasive, and pathetic.
"She traced the demands and usurpations of the Slave Power from the commencement of our government till the present time, and proved that, because it could not
hope to control the country in the future as it had in the past, it raised the standard of
rebellion, -an act long since determined upon when such an exigency should arise.
Slavery being thus proved to be the cause of the war, the justice, necessity, and propri.
ety of its abolition, as a means of present defence and future security and peace, was
forcibly illustrated.
"That the slave was prepared for freedom was proved by the thousands who have
passed through so much danger and suffering to obtain it. The inhuman character of
the fugitive slave enactment was most beautifully referred to, bringing tears to many
eyes which are not accustomed to weep over the wrongs of the colored race.
"She spoke in eloquent terms of Fremont, which met with a hearty response from
the audience, as did other parts of her address. On the whole, we think her friends
here must be greatly delighted with her first effort, on her first visit to our old Commonwealth.
"Previous to the delivery of the lecture, the' Negro Boatman's Song,' by Whittier,
was sung by a quartette, accompanied by the organ, and the exercises were closed by
singing' America,' in which the audience joined." - Fall River Press.
She spent the following summer in reading and study,
collecting materials for other lectures.  She continued, as she
had time, to visit the government hospitals, and made herself
a most welcome guest among our soldiers.  Inll her long convcrsations with them, she learned their individual histories,
experiences, hardships, and sufferings;  the motives that
prompted them to go into the army; what they saw there,
and wNhat they thought of war in their hours of solitude, away
from the excitement of the camp and the battle-field. Thus
495 
496   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
she got an insight into the soldier's life and feelings, and from
these narratives drew her materials for that deeply interestiugi lecture on hIospital Life, which she delivered in many
parts of the country.
In October, 1862, she spoke before the Boston Fraternity
Lyceum, for which she received many flattering  notices and
one hundred dollars.  She had hoped, through the influence
of friends, to make a series of appointments for the winter,
and thus secure a means of support.  But the military reverses and discouragements left but little spirit among the
people for lectures of any kind, and she travelled from place
to place until her funds were exhausted.   Her lecture at
Concord, New Hampshire, was her last engaqgement for the
season, and the ten dollars promised there was all she had in
prospect for future need until something else might offer.
This was a tryingl experience, for she had just begun to
hope that her days of darkness had passed and triumph was
near.  In speaking of it she says, "No one knows how I felt
and suffered that winter, penniless and alone, with a scanty
wardrobe, suffering with cold, weariness, and disappointment.
I wandered about on the trains day after day, among strangers,
seeking employment for an honest living, and failed to find
it.  I would have gone home, but had not the means.  I had
borrowed money to commence my journey, promisingto remit
soon; failing to do so, I could not ask again.  Beyond my
Concord meeting all was darkness; I had no fuirther plans."
But her lecture there on Hospital Life was the turningi-point
in her fortunes. In this speech she proved slavery to be the
cause of the war, and that its continuance would result in
prolonged sufferingo to our soldiers, defeat to our armies, and
the downfall of the republic. She related many touching incidents of her experiences in hospital life, and drew such
vivid pictures of the horrors of both war and slavery, that,
by her pathos and logic, she melted her audience to tears, 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
and forced the most prejudiced minds to accept her conclu
sions.
It was on this occasion that the secretary of the State Central Committee heard her for the first time. Ile remarked
to a friend, at the close of the lecture, "If we  can get
this girl to make that speech all through New Hampshire,
we can carry the Republican ticket in this State in the coming election."  Fully appreciating her magnetic power over an
audience, he resolved at once, that, if the State Committee reflised to invite her, he should do so on his own responsibility.
But, through his influence, she was invited by the Republican committee, and on the first of March commenced her
regular campaign speeches.  In the four weeks before election, she spoke twenty times, - everywhere to crowded, enthusiastic audiences. Her march through the State was a
succession of triumphs, and ended in a Republican victory.
The member in the first district, having no faith that a woman
could influence politics, sent word to the secretary, "Don't
send that d        woman down here to defeat my election."
The secretary replied, " We have work enough for her to do
in other districts, without interfering with you."  But when
the would-be honorable gentleman saw the furor she created,
he changed his mind, and inundated the secretary with letters
to have her sent there. But the secretary replied, "It is too
late; the programme is arranged, and published throughout
the State. You would not have her when you could, and
now you cannot have her when you will." It is pleasant to
record that this man, who had the moral hardihood to use a
profane adjective in speaking of a woman, lost his election;
and thus our congressional halls were saved from so demoralizing, an influence.  His district was lost by a large majority, while the other districts went strongly Republican.
XWhen the news came that the Republicans had carried the
State, due credit was awarded to Anna Dickinson for her faith-,
497
32
a 
498    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ful labors in securing the victory.  The governor-elect miade
personal acknowledg,ments that her eloquent speeches had
secured his election.  She was serenaded, feasted, and eulogized by the press and the people.
New Hampshire safe, all eyes were now turned to Connecticut.  Thle contest there was between Seymour and Buckinlgham.  It was generally conceded that, if Seymour  was
elected, Connecticut would give no more money or troops
for the waLr.  The Republicans were completely disheartened.
They said nothing could prevent the Democrats from car'ying
the State by four thousand, while the Democrats boasted that
they would carry it by ten thousand.  Thoughl the issue-was
one of such vital importance, there seemedl so little hope of
success, that the Republicans were disposed to give it up
without making an effort.  And no resistance to this impending calamity was made until Anna Dickinson went into the
State, and galvanized the desponiding loyalists to life.  She
spent two weeks there, addressing lIarge and enthusiastic
audiences all over the State, and completely turned the tide
of popular sentiment.  Even the Democrats, in spite of the
scurrilous attacks on her by some of their leaders and editors,
received her everywhere with the warmlest welcome, tore off
their party badges, and substituted  her likeness, and  applauded whatever she said.   The  halls where she spoke
were so densely packed, that Republicans stayed away to make
room for the Democrats, and the women were s/at out to
give place to those who could vote.  There never vwas such
a furor about an orator in this country.  The p)eriod of her
advent, the excited condition of the people, her youth, beauty, and remarkable voice, all heightened the effect of her
genius, and helped to prodice this result.  I1er name was on
every lip.  MIinisters preached about her, prayed for her as a
second Joan of Arc, raised up by God to save that State to
the loyal party, and through it the nation to freedom and 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
humanity.  As the election day approached, the excitement
was intense; and when at last it was announced that the State
was saved by a few hundred votes, the joy and gratitude of
the crowds knew no bounds.  They shouted and hurrahed
for Anna Dickinson, serenaded her with full ballds of niusic,
sent her presents of flowers, ornaments, and books, manifesting in every way their love and loyalty to this gifted girl,
who, throtugh so many years, had bravely strnggled with poverty to this proud moment of success in her country's cause.
Some leading men in Connecticut presented her a gold
watch  and  chain as a memento for her valuable services in
the    State, paid her a hundred dollars for every night she had
spoken  there, and for the last night before election, in Hartfor d, four hundred dollars.  From the following comments
of the press, the reader may form some idea of the enthlusia,       m  of the people:
"MISS DICKINSON AT ALLYN HALL.
"The highest compliment that the Union men of this city could pay Miss Anna E.
Dickinson was to invite her to make the closing and most important speech in this campaig,n.  They were willing to rest their case upon her efforts.  She may go far and
speak much; she will have no more flattering proof of the popular confidence in her
eloquence, tact, power, than this. Her business being to obtain votes for the right side,
she addlressed herself to that end with singular adaptation. But when we add to this
lawyer-like comprehension of the necessities of the case, her earnestness, enthusiasm,
and personal magnetism, we account for the effect she produced on the vast audience
Satur(lday night.
Allyn Hall was packed as it never was before. Every seat was crowded. The aisles
were full of men who stood patiently for more than three hours, the window-sills had
their occupants, every foot of standing-room was taken, and in the rear of the galleries
men seemed to hang in swarms like bees.  Such was the view from the stage.  The stage
itself and the boxes were filled with ladies, giving the speaker an audience of at least
two hundred who could not see her face.
To such an audience Miss Dickinson spoke for two hours and twenty minutes, and
hardly a listener left the hall during that time. Her power over the audience was marvellous. She seemed to have that absolute mastery of it which Joan of Arc is reported
to have had of the French troops. They followed her with that deep attention which
is unwilling to lose a word, but greeted her, every few moments, with the most wild ap.
plause, which continued often for several minutes, breaking forth afresh with irrepressible
enthusiasm. We find no occasion to abate a word from the very high estimate given of
499 
560    EMINENT WOMEN DF THE AGE.
her as an orator from her first speech in this city. And she added vastly, on Saturday
night, to the estimate of her by her versatility and ability as an advocate. The speech,
in itself, and its effect was magnificent, - this strong adjective is the proper one. If the
campaign were not closed, we should give a full sketch of the speech, for its pertinent
effect. But the work of the campaign is done. And it only remains, in the name, we
are sure, of all loyal men in this district, to express to Miss Dickinson most heartfelt
thanks for her splendid, inspiring aid. She has aroused everywhere respect, enthusiasm,
and devotion, let us not say to herself alone, but to the country. While such women
are possible in the United States, there isn't a spot big enough for her to stand on, that
won't be fought for so long as there is a man left."
Fresh from the victories in New Hampshire and Connecticut, she was announced to speak in Cooper Institute, New
York. That meeting in May, 1862, was the most splendid
ovation to a woman's genius since Fanny Kemble, in all the
wealth of her youth and beauty, appeared on the American
stage for the first time. On no two occasions of my life have
I been so deeply moved, so exalted, so lost in overflowingt
gratitude, that woman had revealed her power in oratory, -
that highest art to touch the deepest feeliings of the human
soul, - and verified at last her right to fame and immortality. There never was such excitement over any meeting in New York.  Although the hall was densely crowded
long, before the hour announced, yet the people outside were
determined to get in at all hazards, -ushers were beaten
down, those without tickets rushed in, and those with tickets
were pushed aside, and thousands went home unable to get
standing-places even in the lobbies and outer halls.
The platform was graced with the mnost distinguished men
and women in the country, and so crowded that the young
orator had scarce room to stand. There were clergymen,
generals, admirals, judges, lawyers, editors, the literati and
leaders of fashion, and all alike ready to do homage to this
simple girl, who moved them alternately to laughter and tears,
to bursts of applause and the most profound silence. Mr.
Beecher, who was president of the meeting, introduced the
speaker in his happiest manner. For more than an hour she 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
held that large audience with deep interest and enthusiasm,
and, when she finished with a beautiful peroration, the people seemed to take a long breath, as if to find relief from the
intensity of their emotions.
Loud cries followed for Mr. Beecher; but he arose, and,
with great feeling and solemnity, said,  Let no man ol)pen his
lips here to-night; music is the only fitting accompaniment tc
the eloquent utterances we have heard."  So the Ilutchinseons
closed the meeting with one of their soul-stirring ballads, and
the audience dispersed.
As none of the materials furnished for this sketch have
interested me more than the comments of the press, I give
the      followving. Kinowing, that Anna Dickinson will be as
great a wonder to another generation as Joan of Arc is to this,
the       testimony of our leading journals to her eloquence and
power furnishes an important page in future history:
"MISS DICKINSON AT THE COOPER INSTITUTE.
"The crowd at the Cooper Institute last evening must be truly called immense, no
other word being adequate to the emergency. The attraction was an address by Miss
Anna E. Dickinson, of Philadelphia, upon the subject of' The Day -the Cause.'
"She is of the medium height, slight in form, graceful in movement;  her head, wellpoised, is adorned with full and heavy dark hair, displaying to advantage a pleasant
face, which has the signs of nervous force and of vigorous mental life. In manner she
is unembarrassed, without a shade of boldness; her gesticulation is simple, drawing to
itself no remark; her voice is of wonderful power, penetrating rather than loud, as
clear as the tone of metal, and yet with a reed-like softness. Her vocabulary is simple,
and in no instance can there be seen a straining after effective expressions; yet her skill
in using the ordinary stores of our daily language is so great, that with a single phrase
she presents a picture, and delivers a poem in a sentence.
",5Iiss Dickinson shows in her oratorical method the feminine peculiarities which lead
her sex to prefer results to preliminaries, the sharply defined success of conclusions to
the regularly progressing course of previous argument. Her lecture was consequently
very effective to the ear, and difficult to report with justice to the speaker. She defined
the contest with the South as the struggle between liberty and slavery in the broadest
sense of the words, extending to the moral, mental, and social world, and illustrated
her position with rapid allusions to the political history of the last ten years. She then
drew a variety of comparisons between the loyalty of the two parties at the North, and,
in answer to the question what sort of generals each had given to the country, made
501 
t02   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
some hits of great force at many well-known officers, and paid a tribute of praise to
others.
"It was in this part of her address that the brightness of her wit and the power of
condensed expression already alluded to was seen most clearly. A single stroke of the
pencil placed not only a name but a character distinctly before the audience, who took
quickly, and fully enjoyed every point. The enrolment act, the threats of the Northwest to compromise for themselves and leave New England out in the cold, and the
present splendid revival of patriotic confidence in the North,were treated with surprising
power. The applause which burst from the audience at almost every sentence was more
hearty and enthusiastic than even in the excited political gatherings of an election
season, and was, moreover, applause born of the deepest and best feelings of loyalty.
At the conclusion of the lecture, which came to a close with a truly beautiful peroration, the Hutchinson family sang one of their best pieces, and then, by request, followed
it with the John Brown song, in the chorus of which the audience joined with a thrilling
effect." -New York Evening Post.
Hler profits from this meeting were nearly a thousand
dollars.  After her remarkable success in New York, the
Philadelphia "Union League," one of the greatest political
or,anizattions in the country, invited her to speak in that city.
The invitation was signed by leading Republicans.   She accepted it; had a most enthusiastic and appreciative audience,
Judge IKelley presiding, and, after all expenses were paid,
she had seven hundred dollars.  In this address, reviewing
the incidents of the war, she criticised General McClellan, as
usual, with great severity.   MIany of his personal fi'iends
were present, and some, filled with indignation, left the house,
while a derisive laugh followed them to the door. The Phila.
delphia journals vied with each other in their eulogiums of
her grace, beauty, and eloquence. The marked attention she
has always received ill her native city is alike most grateful
to her and honorable to her fellow-citizens.
July came, and the first move was imade to enlist colored
troops in Pennsylvania. A meeting was called in Philadelphia.
Judge Kelley, Frederick Douglass, and Annla Dickinson were
there, and made most eloquent appeals to the people of that
State to grant to the colored man the honor of bearing arms in
defence of his country. The effort was successful. A splendid 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
regiment was raised, and their first duty was to serenade
the young orator who had spoken so eloquently for their
race all through the war. The summer passed in rest and
study.
Il September, a field-day was announced at Ca'tmp William
Penn.  General Pleasanton reviewed the troops.  It was a
very brilliant and interesting occasion, as many were about
to leave for the seat of war. As the day closed and the
people began to disperse, it was noised round that Miss
Dickinson was there; a cry was heard at once onl all sides, -
"A speech! A speech!" The moon was just rising, mingling
its pale rays with those of the setting sun, throwiing a soft,
mysterious light over the whole scene.  The troops gathered
round with bristling bayonets and flags flying, the band was
hushed to silence, and, when all'was still, mounted on a
gunl wagonl, with General Pleasanton and his staff on one
side, and General Wagner and his staff on the other, this
beautiful girl addressed "our boys in blue."  She urged
that justice and equality might be secured to every citizen
in the republic; that slavery and war might end forever, and
peace be restored; that our country might indeed be the
land of the free, and the home of the brave.
As she stood there utterilng words of warning and prophecy, it seemed as if her lips had been touched with a live coal
from the altar of heaven. Iher inspired words moved the
hearts of our yotung, soldiers to deeds of daring, and gave fresh
courage to those about to bid their loved ones go, and die,
if need be, for freedom and their cotluntry.  The hour, the
mysterious light, the stillness, the  novel surroundings, the
youth of the speaker, all gave a peculiar power to her words,
and made the scene one of the most thrilling and beautiful
on the page of history.
In the autumn of 1862, she was engaged to go to Ohio, to
speak for a few weeks before election, and a large sum of
503 
504    EMIINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
money was pledged for her services. But some Pennsylvania politicians, appreciating her power, and desiring, her
help at home, decided to outbid Ohio and keep her in her
own State.  Accordingly she accepted their proposals, and
threw her whole energy and enthusiasm into that canmpaign.
She endurdl all manner of discomforts and da(ngers in travelling, through the benighted mining districts of the State.
She met with scorn, ridicule, threats of violence, and more
than once was pelted with rotten eggs and stones, in the
midst of a speech. But she went through it all with the
calmness and coolness of an experienced warrior. One of
the committee admitted afterward that Miss Dickinson was
sent through that district because no man dared to go.  She
returned home after weeks of hard labor and intense excitement, weary and exhausted, and though all agreed that the
Republican victory in that State was largely due to hei
influence, the committee forgot their promises, and, to this
hour, have never paid her one cent for her valuable services.
Their excuse was, that the fund had been used up in paying
other speakers.  As if a dozen honorable men could not have
raised something ill an hour of victory to reward this brave and
faithful girl. During, the winters of 1863 and 1864, she received invitations, from the State Legislatures of Ohio and
Pennsylvania, to speak ill their capitals at Columbus and Harrisburg,. In January, 1864, she made her first address in Washington.  Though she now believed that her success as an
orator was established, yet she hesitated long before accepting this invitation. To speak before the President, Chief
Justice, Senators, Cong,ressmen, Foreign Diplomats, all the
dignitaries and honorables of the government, was one of
the most trying, ordeals in her experience. She had one of
the largest and most brilliant audiences ever assembled in the
capitol, and was fully equal to the occasion.   She made
a profound impression, and was the topic of conversation 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
for days afterwards. At the close of the meeting, she was
presented to the President and other dignitaries, and, the
next day, hatd a pleasant interview with the President at the
White Ilouse.
As this was one of the greatest occasions of her life, and as
she was hlonored as no man in the nation ever had been, it
may be satisfactory to all American women to know by whom
she was invited and how she acquitted herself.  Accordingly,
I give the invitation and some comments of the press.
CORRESPONDENCE.
" To.Miss Anna E. Dickinson, Philadelphia, Pa.:
" MISS DICKINSON, - Heartily appreciating the value of your services in the campaigns
in New Hampshire, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and New York, and the qualities that
have combined to give you the deservedly high reputation you enjoy; and desiring as
well to testify that appreciation as to secure ourselves the pleasure of hearing you, we
unite in cordially inviting you to deliver an address this winter at the capital, at some
time suited to your own convenience.
WASHINGTON, D. C., December 16, 1863.
H. HAMLIN,                          SCIIUYLER COLFAX,
J. H. LANE,                         A. J. WILDER,
JAMES DIXON,                        THADDEUS STEVENS,
CHARLES SUMNER,                     HENRY C. DEMING,
H. B. ANTHONY,                      WILLIAM D. KELLEY,
HENRY WILSON,                       ROBERT C. SCHENCK,
JOHN SHERMAN,                       J. A. GARFIELD,
IRA HARRIS,             R. B. VAN VALKENBURO,
BEN. F. WADE,                           and seventy other Representatives.
and sixteen other Senators.
"'Hon. Hannibal Hamlin, Vice-President of the United States; Hon. Schuyler Colfax,
Speaker of the House of Representatives; Hens. J. H. Lane, James Dixon,  Charles
Sumner, H. B. Anthony, Henry Wilson, John Sherman, A. C. Wilder, Thaddeus
Stevens, Henry C. Deming, William D. Kelley.Robert C. Schenck, J. A. Garfield, and
others:
" GENTLEMEN, - I thank you sincerely for the great and most unexpected honor which
you have conferred upon me by your kind invitation to speak in Washington.
"Accepting it, I would suggest the 16th of January, as the time; desiring the pro.
seeds to be devoted to the help of the suffering freedmen.
"Truly yours,                      ANNA  E. DICKINSON.
" 1710 Locust St., Philadelphia, Jan. 7, 1864,"
505 
506    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"The House of Representatives, by a remarkably large vote, have tendered Miss
Dickinson the use of their hall for the occasion.
" Admission to the floor of the House, $1 00; to the galleries, 50 cents. Tickets for
sale at the principal hotels and bookstores."
"MISS ANNA DICKINSON'S LECTURE IN WASHINGTON.
"[From the Regular Correspondent of the Evening Post.]
"WASIIINGTON, Jan. 17, 1864.
"Miss Dickinson's lecture in the hall of the House of Representatives, last night, was a
gratifying success and a splendid personal triumph. She can hardly fail to regard it as
the most flattering ovation - for such it was - of her life.  Long before the hour designated in the newspapers fo~ the commencement of the lecture the hall was filled, the
capacious galleries as well as the floor. Seats for five hundred persons had been arranged
upon the floor, and the tickets- one dollar each - were sold by noon of Saturday.
"A large number of Congressmen were present with their wives and daughters, and
many.of the leading men of the departments.  Here and there an opposition member
was visible, but so few in number as to make those' who were present unpleasantly
conspicuous. At precisely half-past seven Miss Dickinson came in, escorted by VicePresident Hamlin and Speaker Colfax. A platform had been built directly over the
desk of the official reporters, and in front of the clerk's desk, from which the lecturer
spoke. Mr. Ilamlin sat upon her right and Mr. Colfax upon her left. She was greeted
with loud cheers as she came in, and Mr. Hapliu introduced her to the select audience
in a neat speech, in which he very happily compared her to the Maid of Orleans.
"This scene was one which would evidently test severely the powers of a most accomplished orator, for the audience was not composed of the enthusiastic masses of the
people, but rather of loungers, office-holders, orators, critics, and men of the world.
But the fair speaker did not seem to be embarrassed in the least, - not even by the
movements of a crazy man in the galleries, who carried a flag,. which he waved over her
head when she uttered any sentiment particularly stirring or eloquent.
"At eight o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln came in, and not even the utterance of a fervid
passage in the lecture could repress the enthusiasm of the audience. It was a somewhat
amusing fact that just as the president entered the hall, she was criticising, with some
sharpness, his Amnesty Proclamation and the Supreme Court; and the audience, as if
feeling it to be their duty to applaud a just sentiment, even at the expense of courtesy,
sustained the criticism with a round of deafening cheers. The crazy man in the gallery, as if electrified by the courage of the young woman, waved his flag to and fro
with frantic delight. Mr. Lincoln sat meekly through it, not in the least displeased.
Perhaps he knew that sweets were to come, but whether he did or not, they did come,
for Miss Dickinson soon alluded to him and his course as president, and nominated him
as his own successor in 1865. The popularity of the president in Washington was
duly attested by volleys of cheers.
"The lecture itself was an eloquent one, and it was delivered very finely. Miss Dick.
inson has evidently made a most favorable impression upon Congress and the people of
Washington. After the lecture was finished the audience called lustily for Mr. Lincoln
to speak, but he edged his way out of the crowd to a side door, telling the vice-president
on his way out that he was too much embarrassed to speak; which statement, made known 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
to the people present by Mr. HIamlin, caused much laughter. The'freedmen' will
obtain over one thousand dollars as the solid result of the lecture; those present as
hearers were delighted; and Miss Dickinson has the consolation of feeling not only that
she has aided a good cause, but that she has achieved a fine personal triumph.    B."
"MISS DICKINSON'S LECTURE IN WASHINGTON
~ AT a meeting of the Executive Committee of the National Freedmen's ReliefSociety
of the District of Columbia held on the 26th of January, 1864, the following letter was
read: -
" WASHINGTON, January 23, 1864.
"Rev. W. H. Channing:
" SIR, - We have the honor to enclose herewith a draft for ten hundred and thirty
dollars, being the proceeds of the lecture delivered by Miss Anna E. Dickinson, in the
House of Representatives, on Saturday evening, the 16th inst.
"It is the special request of Miss Dickinson that this fund be appropriated for the
benefit of the National Freedmen's Relief Society of the District of Columbia, of which
you are the vice-president.
"It was in response to an invitation of members of Congress that Miss Dickinson
delivered herlecture at the capitol. Her benevolence and patriotism evineed in this
gift entitle her to the gratitude not only of those who are the recipients of her munificence, but of every lover of his country.
" Very respectfully, your obedient servants,
"H. HAMLIN,
"SCHUYLER COLFAX.'
Immediately upon her return from Washington, she was
invited by a large number of the leadiing citizens of Philadelphia to repeat her Washington address in the Academy of
Music, to which she replied
"Messrs. Arch. Getty, Alex. G. Cattell, Thos. Allman, Edmund A. Souder, and others:
"GEMTLEMEN, - I thank you heartily for the honor conferred on me by your most kind
invitation, and for the added pleasure of receiving it from my own city of Philadelphia.
I would name Wednesday, the 27 th inst., as the time.
"Truly yours,          ANNA  E. DICKINSOIN.
"WASHINOTON, D. C., January 20, 1864."
The profound impression she made at Washington greatly
hei,ghtened her rapidly increasing reputation, and she was
urged to deliver that address both in New York and Boston.
507 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
In Boston, Georg,e Thompson, the eloquent Einglish orator
and member of Parliament, paid this beautiful tribute to her
genius: -
"MY FRIEN.DS,- If one unaccustomed to public speaking is ever placed in an embarrassing position, it is when he is called upon, as I am now, to address an audience that
has been so charmed and highly excited by such eloquence as that which it has been
your privilege and my privilege to listen to to-night. Shakespeare says,'As when
some actor who has crossed the stage retires, the eye looks listlessly to see who follows
next;' and so I come before you to-night.   I have nothing to address to you to-night,
nothing.   I have been spellbound.  America, be proud of your daughter!  Were  she
my countrywoman, I should be proud of my country for her sake. Appreciate her, reward her by following her counsels.  I must confess, long accustomed as I have been to
public meetings, and hearing the best eloquence on either side of the Atlantic, and
to hearing those who are esteemed our most gifted men in Parliament, I have listened
to no speech which, for its pathos, its argument, its satire, its eloquence, its humor, its
sarcasm, and its well-directed denunciations, has ever been surpassed by any I have
heard before. I pray God that the life of this lady may be spared, that she may see the
desire of her heart in the unanimous adoption by her fellow-citizens of the great principles she has enunciated to-night. Give me America free from slavery. Give me America in which shall be established universally, as your lecturer has said to-night, without
distinction of clime, color, class, or condition, liberty for all, government by all and
for all."
IIer reputation was now thoroughly established, and during
that winter she addressed lyceums nearly every night at a
hundred dollars.  " Chicago; or, the Last Ditch," was the title
of the lecture she delivered in all our Northern cities.  In the
spring she made a few camnpaign speeches in Connecticut.
She used what influence she had to prevent the renomination of Mir. Lincoln; for she distrusted his plan of reconstruction, after an interview with himn, in which he read to her his
correspondence with  General Banks, then military  coinmanlder at New Orleans.  She was convinced in that inter.
view that in his policy he was looking to a re-election instead
of maturing sound measures for reconstruction.  During that
presidential campaign,  though she continually laid bare the
record of the Democratic party, the treason of its leaders and
generals, and its want of loyalty during the war, yet she had
508 
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
no word of praise for Mr. Lincoln.  She never took his name
upon her lips, except to state facts of history, after the Baltimore Convention, until his death. She was invited to go to
California during that campaign, and offered thousands of
dollars, if she would go there and speak for Mr. Lincoln;
which she declined.  At the opening of the lyceum course
that fall, in consequence (f her position with reference to the
Republican nominee, she had not a dozen invitations for the
winter; but, as the season advanced, they began to come in as
usual, showing that the committees had withheld them during
the months preceding the election, hoping, no doubt, to awe
her to silence on Mr. Lincoln. In 1865, she spoke in Philadelphia on the Lincoln monument, and cleared a thousand
dollars, which she gave to Alexander Henry, the mayor, to
be appropriated for that purpose. On this occasion, she paid
a beautiful tribute to the many virtues of our martyred president, delicately making no mention of his faults.
One of the most powerful and impressive appeals that she
ever made was in the Convention of Southern Loyalists, held
in Philadelphia in September, 1866. In this convention there
was a division of opinion between the Border and the Gulf
States.  The latter wanted to incorporate  negro suffrage"
in their platform, as that was the only means of success for
the liberal party at the South. The former, manipulated by
Northern politicians, opposed that measure, lest it should defeat the Republican party in the pending elections at the
North. This stultification of principle, of radical public sentiment, stirred the soul of Anna, and she desired to speak in
the convention. But a rule that none but delegates should
be allowed that privilege prevented her. However, as the
Southern men had never heard a woman in public, and felt
great curiosity to hear her, they adjourned the convention,
resolved themselves into a committee of the whole, and invited her to address them. The following sketch from an eye......
509 
510    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
witness will give some idea of the effect she produced on
Southern             men:
"A GOOD-NATURED VIEW
Of some matters in and about the Convention is given in the following spicy letter of
James Redpath to the Boston' Traveller:' —
" PHILADALPHIA, Sept. 7.
"THE ADDRESS OF ANNA E. DICKINSON.
"My last despatch from the Convention predicted that the border statesmen would re.
ceive a lecture from Anna Dickinson, and stated that they acted as if they anticipated
it. This prediction was formed from the appearance of the Maryland delegation, and a
knowledge of the character of the orator; and it was fulfilled.
"It was curious to note the audience.  There sat, directly in front of the platform,
three or four hundred Southern men, few of whom had ever heard a woman speak, - few
of whom could debate, when antagonistic views were advanced, without the grossest
personal vituperation.
"Their ideal of controversial oratory was with them, and sitting at the right hand of
the young maiden as she stepped forward to deliver a speech as denunciatory as ever
he uttered, but as free from offensive personal allusions as any oration can be. It was
Brownlow, the bitterest and foulest-tongued man in the South. On her left sat John
Minor Botts, with his lips tightly compressed, and his face telling plainly that he remained there from courtesy, but would remain a patient listener to the speech.
"She began; and, for the first time since it met, the Convention was so still that the
faintest whisper could be heard. She had not spoken long before she declared that
Maryland had no business in the Convention, but ought to have been with the delegates
who came to welcome. There was vehement applause from the border States.
"' That is a direct insult!' shouted a delegate from Maryland.
"She went on without regarding these coarse interruptions, reviewing the conduct of
the border States with scorn, and talking, with an eloquence I never heard equalled in
any previous effort, in favor of an open, hearty, manly declaration of the real opinion
of the Convention for justice to the colored loyalist, not in the courts only, but at the
ballot-box.
"There was none of the flippancy or pertness which sometimes disfigures her public
speeches. It was her noblest style throughout, -bold but tender, and often so pathetic
that she brought tears to every eye. Every word came through her heart, and it went
right to the hearts of all. Kentucky and Maryland now listened as eagerly as Georgia
and Alabama.
"Brownlow's iron features and Botts' rigid face soon relaxed, and tears stood in the
old Virginian's eyes more than once, while the noble Tennesseean moved hi* place, and
gazed at the inspired girl with an interest and wonderment which no other orator had
brought to the fanatic's hard face.
"Sho had the audience in hand as easily as a mother holds her child; and, like the
child, this audience heard her heart beat. It was ennobled thereby. It was really a
marvellous speech. The fullest report of it would not do it justice, because the greatness lay in its manner and its effect, as well as in its argument. 
511
ANNA ELIZABETH DICKINSON.
"When she finished, one after another Southern delegate came forward, and pinned on
her dress the badges of their States, until she wore the gifts of Alabama, Missouri,
Tennessee, Texas, Florida, Louisiana, and Maryland."
There have been many speculations in public and private
as to the authorship of Anna Dickinson's speeches. They
have been attributed to Wendell Phillips, Charles Sumner,
Georg,e AV. Curtis, and Judge Kelley.  Those who know
Anna's conversational power, who have felt the magnetism
of her words and manners, and the pulsations of her generous
heart, who have heard her impromptu replies when assailed,
see at once that her speeches are the natural outgrowth of
herself, her own experience and philosophy, inspired by
the eventful times in which she lived.
As well ask if Joan of Arc drew her inspiration from the
warriors of her day.  It was no man's wish or will that Anna
Dickinson uttered the highest'thought in American politics in
this crisis of our nation's history; that she pointed out the cause
and remedy of the war, and unveiled treason in the army and
the White Hiouse.  While, in the camp and hospital, she spoke
words of tenderness and love to the sick and dying, she did
not hesitate to rebuke the incapacity and iniquity of those in
high places.  She was among the first to distrust McClellan
and Lincoln, and in a lecture entitled " Mly Policy" to unveil
his successor, Andrew Johnson, to the people. - She saw the
sceptre of power grasped by the party of freedom, and the
first gun -fired at Sumter, ill defence of slavery.  She saw the
clawn of the glorious day of emancipation, when four mnillion
American slaves were set free, and that nighit of gloom, when
the darkest page in American history was written in the blood
of its chief.  She saw our armies go forth to blttle, the
youth, the promise, the hope of the nation, -two million
strong, - and saw them return, with their ranks thinned and
broken, their flags tattered and stained, the maimed, halt, 
512    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and blind, the weary and worn; and this, she said, is the
price of liberty. Through the nation's agony was this girl
born into a knowledge of her power; and she drew her inspiration from the great events of her day. Her heroic courage,
indomitable will, brilliant imagination, religious earnestness,
and prophetic forecast, gave her an utterance that no man's
thought could paint or inspire. 
WOMAN  AS IHYSICIAN.
WOMAN AS PHYSICIAN.
BY REV. H. B. ELLIOT.
THE care of the sick has from earliest ages devolved on
woman. A group by one of our sculptors, representing Eve
with the body of Abel stretched upon her lap, bending over
it in bewildered grief, and striving to cherish or restore the
vital spirit which she can hardly believe to have departed, is
a type of the province of the sex ever since pain and death
entered the world. To be first the vehicle for human lifer
and then its devoted guardian, to remove or alleviate the
physical evils which afflict the race, or to patiently watch
their wasting course, and tenderly care for all that remnains
when they have wroug,ht their result, -this is her divinely
appointed and universally conceded mission.   Were she to
refuse it, to forsake her station beside the suffering, the office
of medicine and the efforts of the physician would be more
than half baffled.  And yet, where her post, is avowedly so
important, she has generally been denied the liberty of understanding much that is involved in its itelliguent occupancy.
With the human  body so largely in her charge from birth to
death, she has not been allowed to'leuire inito its -arvellous
mechanism.  With the admilnistering, of remedies entrusted.
to her vigilance and fiaithfulness, she has not been allowed ta
investigate the qualities, or to,klow even the names of the
substances committed to her us, or to ascertain the mectho
33~~~~~~~~~~~~
33
513 
514    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
of their operation. With the mind to guide at the stages
where its tutelacge is of incomparable importance, she has not
been allowed to learn the delicate lines of its dependence
upon the body, or the subtle but invincible influences which
they mutually exert. To be a student of these things, with
scientific thoroughness, and then to practise independently
with what she has thus acquired, has been regarded as un
seemly, or as beyond her capacity, or as an invasion of
prerogatives claimed exclusively for men.  Indeed, the whole
domain of medicine has been "pre-empted" by men, and in
their " squatter sovereignty" (for no law divine or human has
yet deeded it to them) they have sturdily warned off the
gentler sex. But they will not be kept off. By quiet approaches they have long been gaining foothold upon the outskirts of the territory. Of late years they have ventured
into its very centre, claiming equal rights, or erecting their
own edifices and laying foundations for enlduring institutions.
Under manifold disadvantages and with imperfect appliances,
it has yet come to be a fixed fliact that, in this realm, as in
those of literature and art, there shall be no factitious distinctions from such cause.
To our own country belongs the credit of being foremost
ill this change, first to admit, and most liberal in fostering
it.  In England a "female medical society" has existed
several years, and offers facilities for instruction by means
of lectures upon some branches, sufficient to qualify for a
diploma from "Apothecaries' Hall."  In connection with it
there is now a "Ladies' Medical College," which recently
announced fifty students.  But the aim of the whole movement is at present only to furnish well trained midwives.
In Paris the "Maternity" Hospital affords opportunity for
observation in the department which its name indicates, with
whatever forms of disease may be collateral or incidental,
and receives women nominally as students, but they are not 
WOMAN AS PHYSICIAN.
allowed to prescribe in the wards, nor instructed in regard to
the remedies used. Indeed, they can hardly rise above the
position of proficient nurses. In both countries, the way to
the entrance of women  upon general practice among their
own sex has scarcely yet begun to open.
In the United States, there are three regularly orgamnized
institutions for their education, with all the ordinary appliances of Medical  Colleges, -at New York,  Boston,  and
Philadelphia.   There are  hospitals and dispensaries  connected with them, and their students and graduates have now,
also, the usual privileges in many of the long-established
hospitals.   Boston,  with  characteristic  forwardness  in
accepting whatever tends to the promotion of science or
philanthropy, was ill advance of the other cities in this movement, thouogh outstripped by them in results. As early as
1845 and 1846 Dr. Samuel Gregory, in connection with his
brother, Mr. George Gregory, published pamphlets advocating the education and employment of female physicians.
In 1847 he delivered a series of public lectures upon the subject, and proposed the opening of a school for the purpose.  In
1848 a class of twelve ladies was formed, under the instruction of Dr. Enoch C. Rolfe and Dr. William  M. Cornell.
An association styled the "American Female Medical Edlucation Society" was organized the same year, and afterward
merged  in the New  Eng,land  Female  Medical  College,
chartered in 1856, which has been liberally sustained by
legislative grants, as well as individual donations. It owns
a valuable property, and has many facilities for its work.
It has graduated seventy-two women, many of whom are occupying positions of great influence among, their sex, both as practitioners of medicine, and as teachers of physiology  and
hygiene in schools, and has also furnished valual)le information upon the laws of health to a large number who have
attended partial courses of lectures by its professors. At
515 
516    EMINENT WOMEN OF THR AGE.
Philadelphiathe college has quietly pursued its work, through
the past eighteen years, with steadily increasing success,
inotwithstandi,ng the unfriendly attitude of the ordinary professional organizations, and has sent forth a goodly number
of- skilful physicians.  Its corporators assert that "its cutrriculum of study and requirements for graduation are in all
respects as high as those of the best medical schools in this
country" and presenit a catalogue of thlirty-eight re,gular students for the year 1867.   At the college in New  York,
chartered in  1863, one  hundred  intelligent ladies have
already received instruction from a competent corps of professors.  Many of these have not designed to practise as
physicians; but have availed themselves of this method for
obtaining knowledge invaluable to them in their own homes.
Twenty-nine have completed the course, and received the
legal diploma; and there are now thirty students in regular
attendance.  The New York Infirmary also, now in its fourteenth year, originated and still chiefly managed by Drs.
Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell, has well earned an honorable
position and done noble service.  It has furnished advice and
medicine gratuitously to more than seven thousand women and
children during the past year.  These ladies have in view the
organization of a college, for which a considerable fund has
already been collected and a preparatory class formed. In
various other directions preliminary steps have been taken
toward the same end; and there are estimated to be as many
as three hundred women, in full practice, scattered through
the land.  These institutions are yet in their ilnfiancy, and
the opposition to their object has been such, on the part of
minale members of the profession, that they have found difficulty in securing  instructors  of the  highest grade and
facilities for thorotugh clinical or anatomical study. This,
however, they are gradually overcoming, and, we doubt not,
will soon occupy a position, fully equal at least to that of  
C                ~~i,t~>
I'              ~~~    ~'~    %~~K;;
~' ~ AW'c<<4 
MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. D.
the average of similar schools. We have deemed it appropariate to make these introductory statements, in view of the
fact that this field for female action is one so little trodden,
as yet, that its claims are but vaguely apprehended; and to
many of our readers the subject is perhaps entirely new.
The few individuals, the outline of whose history we aie to
give, have been leaders in the whole movement, and are still
recognized by their associates as its most prominent advocates. They are also among the ripest and most honorable
examples of what it is fitted to accomplish.
MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M.D.
It is deeply interesting to trace the causes which have led
any one to depart from the ordinary paths of life. In those
causes there is often much that is palpably providential, -
the impelling of divine influences throu,gh  extraordinary
arrangements,- and there is much of natural operations in
accordance with the recognized fitness of things. Both these
facts will be apparent in the instance we are now to consider.
Why should Mrs. Lozier, a gentle, modest, unambitious,
home-loving woman, have chosen the calling of a physician?
WVe shall see as we sketch her biography.  She was )orn Dec.
11, 1813, at Plainfield, New Jersey, the youingest of thirteen
children.  HIer father was a farmer, David I-arned, — a name
well known at that period in the Methodist Church, of which
he was a faithful member, and in which his brothers were
successful preachers.  iHer mother was IIannah Walker.
Previous to their residence in New Jersey, they spent somQ
years in Virginia, where Indian tribes, noted for their sagacity, were then numerous.  Mrs. Harned, a devout Quakeress, and with much missionary spirit, mingled fieely with
them. From them she gained valuable information, which,
.
517 
518    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
added to reading and close observation, with strong natutral
predilection, qualified her to act efficiently in the neighborhlood as an attendant upon the sick.  Subsequently she spent
seven years in New York city, engaged in general practice,
with the advice and co-operation of her cousins, Drs. Dunhatmn
and IKissam, by whom she was highly esteemed.  William
Harned, an elder brother of Clemence, was also a physician
of good reputation in New York, and for some time partner
of Dr. Doanle, formerly quarantine physician, in an extensive
chemical laboratory.   Clemence was early left an orphan,
and was educated at the Plainfield Academy.   In 1830 she
was married at New York to Mr. A. W. Lozier.  Her husbanid's health soon failing, she opened a select school at their
house in West Tenth Street, which she continued eleven
years, averaging sixty pupils from filmilies whose social positionl indicates the character of the teacher whom they would
sustain.  Many of those pupils and their children are now
her patients. Mrs. Lozier was one of the first teachers in
the city to introduce the study of Physiolog,y, Anatomy, and
Ifygicie as branches of female education.  During this period, she read medical works, under the direction of her
brother. When her scholais were ill, she would generally
be called before the physician, and her advice would be the
sole reliance in ordinary diseases.  She also at that time, for
seven years, was associated with Mrs. Margaret Pryor in visiting the poor and abalndoned, in connection with the Moral
Reform Society, and often prescribed for them in sickness.
Subsequently, while residing in Albany, she visited in the
same connlection in that city.  IHer opportunities for observing diseases in their worst forms among women and children
were thus unusually extensive.  In 1837  Mr. Lozier died;
but she continued for some time the occupations to which his
invalid condition had led her, though constantly looking forward to the medical profession as that to which she desired
0 
MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. D.
to devote herself. In 1849 she attended her first course of
lectures at the Central New York College, in Rochester, and
graduated at the Syracuse Eclectic College in 1853, having
previously applied for admission to several other institutions,
and been refused on the ground that no female student could
be received. Returning to New York, she entered at once
upon regular practice, which she has continued with remarkable success to the present time.  Resorting to no means for
attracting attention, generous to excess, giving her services
gratuitously in numerous instances where fees would usually
be exacted, yet her professional income is equalled by ouly'a
few of the most prominent practitioners in the city.  She
never hesitates to treat the most critical cases, and in the
surgery required by the diseases of her sex has shown peculiar skill, having performed more than a hundred and twenty
"capital operations" in the removal of vital tumors, besides
nearly a thousand of a minor character.  Many leading physicians now readily meet her in consultation, and she is frequently called out of town for the purpose.  In 1867 she
visited Europe, where every facility was afforded her for the
inspection of hospitals, and eminent men received her, and
introduced her to their associates with most gratifying courtesy.
In 1860 Mrs. Lozier commenced a course of familiar lectures in her own parlors, given gratuitously to her patients
and their female friends, and attended by many of them with
much interest and profit.  These continued three years, dur ing which a "Medical Library Association" was formed, for
the purpose of promoting readingo upon such sul)jects on the
part of ladies.  Her own mind, however, was, firom the be ginning, fixed upon the oroganization of a Medical College.
In her parlor listeners, to whom she was giving only the sitm plest instruction upon sanitary principles, she foresaw the
nucleus of college classes. In her patients and the men of
519 
520    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
wetlthl or benevolence to whose families she thus gailedl ac
cess, she anticipated contributors to its funds.  All her pro fessiona.l and social intercourse was made  to bend to this
result with untiring zeal and unwavering confidence.  Her
own experience, and that of the few others who had met the
ordeal, convinced her that by no other means could a thor oulgh training be givenl to those who desired it, withloub such
sacrifice of personal feeli,ng as no womall should be required
to einduclre.  She denied both the expediency and practicability
of mingling, the sexes in such education, and therefore refrained from co-operating, in the measures proposed by others
to that end.  Maniy meetings of ladies, for conference, were
held at her house; but the disturbed condition of the country
prevented the maturing, of their plans.  Some were wearied
or discouraged in the effort, and forsook her; but she never
for a moment doubted the success of the movement.  At
leng,th, in 1863, it was determined to organize.  The Library
Association was merged in a College Association, a Board of
Trustees chosen, a charter obtained, professors  engaged,
rooms secured, and the enterprise fairly inaugurated.  Mrs.
Lozier pledged herself, beyond her own  subscription, to
meet all pecuniary deficiencies for the first year.  Her satisfaction and gratitude for the fulfilment of her hopes were
complete.  Since then she has devoted as much as possible
of her time, and a considerable portion of her property, to its
advancement.  Ill all her efforts, from their inception to their
present results, she has been ably seconded by her son, Dr.
A. WT. Lozier, whose indefatigable labors were invaluable to
the cause.  Of him it is fitting to say here that he is an esteemed physician, married to a hilghly educated lady (who is
also a graduate of the Medical College), and is well-established as a practitioner in New York.
Mrs. Lozier's marked characteristic, both personally and
professionally, is gentleness,- carried in demeanor, perhaps, 
MRS. CLEMENCE S. LOZIER, M. D.
to an extreme of quietness, which sometimes detracts from ajust
impression of her ability, decision, and confidence.  IHer iafluence upon her patients is alwayssoothing; and she thus places
them ill the best mood for the action of remedies, while by her
tenderness she wins manay hearts, which will affectionately
cherish her when time and space shall widely separate them.
Niot' naturally systematic,- not so strict and regular as many
might wish in her arrangements and modes of practice,-  never
making impression by technical phraseology, —much of her
success arises from her sympathetic pelletration of a case,
ready access to the entire state of those seeking her advice,
and the use of mild fi)rms of treatment adapted to the susceptible female organism.  In her aims she is singularly tinselfish.  Her simple remark to a friend, in view of one of
the most difficult operations, which she had not before performed, but had then decided to undertake, in the presence
of one of our first surgeons, instead of eitrusting it to his
hands, was indicative of her habitual spirit: "I desire to do
this for the sake of the cause, for the credit of Wvoman."   It
is her absorbing, idea, and in it her own personal aspirations
are merged.  At the basis of her whole character, however,
and the source from which spring all its movements, is a
spiritual fatith.  Years ago, amid trials known only to a limited circle, she grasped the unseen hand of the Great Physician, upon which she has never ceased to lean, and which has
never failed to lead her.  In a private letter (which we must
be pardoned for quoting) she says, "I am so much indebted
to my religious teachings, to an unwaveriing faith in a present
Saviour, a:nd his constant inspiring love, that I want to tell
all the world about that, and how I feel the gift of healing to
be the talent committed to me  by him, and then how I feel
indebted to Mr. L. N. Fowler and his excellent wife, Dr.
Lydia F. Fowler, to Mrs. C. F. Wells, and many other helps
which God has raised up for me." We mentionl this, not for
521 
522    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the purpose of eulogy, but because our sketch would be incomplete without the distinct acknowledgment of that which
is most radical, and upon which Mrs. Lozier herself places
her utmost dependence.
MISS ELIZABETH BLACKWELL, M. D.
In the subject of the previous sketch, our attention was directed to one whom native tendencies and fa,voring circumstances so combined to lead to the chosen pursuit, that her
engagement in it was, from childhood, almost a foregone
conclusion; and it would have required a strong compulsion
to divert her from it.  In the lady whose' name we  now present, we observe very different elements of character, and
different influences prompting to a similar course.  Miss
Blackwell is of English parentage, and was born at Bristol,
England, in the year 1821.  Her father moved to the United
States iu 1831, and first established himself in b)usiness at
New York.  In accordance with his circumstances and views,
his children had at that time every advantage for a lil)eral
education.  Proving unsuccessful in his enterprises, he renoved to Cincinnati, hoping there to retrieve his fortunlles,
but died in 1837, leaving his family among strangers2 to depend entirely upon their own efforts for support.  Elizal)eth,
with well-matured mind, and already developing the energy
which has since so thorougfhly characterized her, though but
seventeen years of age, opened a school, which she sustained
satisfactorily several years.
An apparently slight occurrence directed her attention to
the study of medicine.  A female friend, afflicted with a distressing disease, expressed her keen regret that there was no
one of her own sex to whom she and other like sufferers
could resort for treatment.  There were women who had 
MRS. ELIZABETH BLACKWELL, M D. 523
assumed the medical title, but without authority, and with
little claim to confidence.  Most of them, also, were of cdisreputable character, and their practice not only ulnrelial)le, but
largely criminal.  Her friend, appreciating MAiss Blackwell's
abilities, and knowing that she had yet no settled aim in life,
urged upon her the duty of devoting herself to this object,
resclling the title as applied to women fiom reproach, and
meeting a want which multitudes painfully felt.  The su,ggestion was immIediately repelled, as utterly repugnanlt to her
tastes and habits. She had a peculiar and extreme aversion
to' anything connected with the sick-room, or with the humana
bodly in its infirmities.  Even the ordinary physical sciences
were uncongenial to her.  Metaphysics and moral philosophy,
the abstract sciences, accorded far more with her inclinations.  Pressed upon her, however, as a question for conscientious consideration, and, with characteristic firmness, settiingo
aside personal preferences, she soon decided that the call
upon her was providential, and her duty plain.  The opprobrium to be encountered and the difficulties to be surmounted
only deepened her determination.  Writing for advice to six
different physicians in different parts of the country, their invariable reply was, that the object, though desirable, was
impracticable; "utterly impossible for a woman to obtain a
medical education.  The idea eccentric and utopian."  Her
reasoning from such counsel was brief, and her conclusion
peculiar.  "A desirable object, a good thing, to be done, said
to be impossible.  I will do it."  She at once commenced
medicetl reading, under the direction of Dr. John Dixon, of
Ashville, N. C., in whose fatmily she was residing as governess.  Removing the next year to Charleston, S. C., she
supported herself by giving lessons in music, but continued
to study, with regular instruction from Dr. S. H. Dixon,
afterwards professor in the medical department of the New
York University, and pursued it further under Drs. Allen 
",524    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and Warrington, of Philadelphia.   She found the study
deeply interesting, and followed it with ardor and thorotighness, whlile l)enevolence and singleness of purpose speedily
overcame her aversion to the associations of disease.  Upon
applying for admission to the medical schools of New York,
Philadelphia, and Boston, she wvas uniformly refused.  From
ten others the same answer was returned, until at Geneva the
faculty sul)bmitted the question to the students, lwho unanimously voted for her reception, at the same time asstriig, her
that nothingo on their part should ever occur to wound her
feelings while in attendance, -a pledge which they nobly
kept.  Entering, in 1846, she graduated in 1848, - the first
woman who received the medical degree in the United States.
So violent, and so ifgnorant, too, was the opposition of her
own sex, that during those two years no lady in Geneva
would make her acquaintance; common civilities, even at the
table, were denied her, and in the street she was deemed uiiworthy of reco(gnition.  Within the college walls she found
nothing but friendliness and decorum; and on the evening, of
publ)lic graduation the cordiality of the students in making
way for her to receive her diploma, and pleasantly indicatingo
their congratulations, was marked and respectful.  The next
morningi (she was to leave town in the afternoon) her parlor
was filled with ladies.  Success had turned the tide.  Doubtless, also, many, moved by the evident approval of her associates in study, were satisfied at last that her motives were
honorable, and her abilities adequate to her work.
The same year, Miss Blackwell went to Europe, and entered as a student "La Maternite," at Paris, with special
reference to obstetrics.  She also studied in 1850 and 1851
at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, in London.   In the autumn
of 1851 she returned, and commenced practice in New York
city.  Here again she experienced difficulties which only an
indomitable will and the consciousness of a lofty aim enabled 
MISS. ELIZABETH BLACKWELL, M.D.  525
her to meet.  With no such filcilities from extended acquaintance and gradual entrance ul)on the work as subsequently
favored Mrs. Lozier, she found a "blank wall of social and
professional antagonism facing the woman physician whlich
formed a situation of singtilar loneliness, leaviing her without
support, respect, or counsel."  The title had been appropriated by such a class, that- the sign was too generally supposed
to indicate either a charlatan or an agent of infamy, and it
was almost impossible to find a respectable boarding-holise
upon which her name would be allowed to appear.   Notwithstandinjg' all the hindrances, however, her testimonials and
sooli-proved qualifications gradu.lly gained for her the confidence of all classes, the co-operation of physicians, and an
extent of practice entirely satisfactory.  The Quakers were
first to receive her; and among them she has ever since maintained a most desirable position.  Contrary to her own expectation, and to the usual impression also, her services have
not been limuited to, nor even chliefly required for, diseases
peculiar to her own sex, but she is called and relied upon
generally as the regular family physician; and in that capacity her relation to a wide circle of families is permanent.
In 1859 she again visited Europe, gave a course of lectures in London on the connection of women with medicine,
and was registered as a member of the British Medical profession.
At about the time when Miss Blackwell established herself in New York, her sister Emily commenced the study,
under Dr. John Davis, demonstrator at the Medical College of Cincinnati.  In 1852 she entered the Rush Medical
College, at Chicago, reading also with Dr. Daniel Brainerd,
of that city, and spending the summer vacations in such attendance as was permitted her at Bellevue Hospital, New York,
and graduated at the Cleveland College in February, 1854.
That year and the two following she spent abroad, -'one 
526   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
year in Edinburgh, one in Paris, one in London; and returning in December, 1856, located inll New York. We regret
that our limits forbid a more extended reference to this lady,
whose abilities, attainments, anid personal excellences cause
her to share the respect of the public and the calls of private
practice equally with her sister. It has seemed necessary to
make Elizabeth Blackwell, as the elder physician, and foi
some reasons the more prominent, the special sul-)ject of our
notice. In our further statements, however, we shall find
them so thoroughly identified ill their professional sphere,
that they must necessarily be named together.
The ":New York Infirmary for Women and Children," was
the product of their united thought and effort. It was incorporated in the winter of 1853, and opened in the spring of 1854
as a dispensary, regulated and attended by Dr. Elizabeth. Inll
1856, on the return of Dr. Emily from Europe, they associated
with them temporarily, Dr. M. E. Zakrzewska, a Polish lady,
enlarged their plans, took a house, and opened it, as a hospital, as well as a dispensary. The object was threefold,- a
charity for the poor, a resort for respectable patients desiring special treatment, and particularly a centre to female
students  for practical  clinical  study.   The  Boston  and
Philadelphia colleges had already been chartered, and sent
forth a number of graduates; but there was then no hospital
which their students could freely visit, nor was there any designed exclusively for female patients.   The  New  York
Infirmary was therefore, for some years, the only woman's
hospital ill both these senses, and supplied an essential
element in any full scheme  of instruction.  About thirty
students have availed themselves of its advantages, by spending a year in daily attendance at its bedsides, and accompanying its visiting assistants into the homes of the poor.
With an honorable list of consulting physicians, the treatment
is yet entirely conducted by the Drs. Blackwell and their 
MISS. ELIZABETII BLACKWELL, M. D.
female associates.  Up to the present time over fifty thousand
patients have received prescriptions and personal care by this
means; and nearly a thousand have been inmates of its wards.
Every variety of operation connected with midwifery (except
the Cesarean), has there been successfully performed by Dr.
Emnily Blackwell, as  attending surgeon.  Both the sisters
took an active part in the organization and work  of the
"Ladies Central Relief Association," during the war; and
their parlor lectures to nurses about to enter the service of
the army were highly valued.
In the personal qualities as well as professional methods
of the Drs. Blackwell, the intellectual element decicdedly
predominates.  Clear judgment, close analysis, and steady
purpose mark their treatment of cases which come  under
their charge.  They  are strenuous advocates of thorough
scientific attainments on the part of women who would engag,e in the profession; and enter continlual protests against
short courses of study, and low standards of acquirement in
institutions for that purpose.  On this account, they have
refused to co-operate with ally which have been organized,
perhaps exacting too much from those which are confessedly
imperfect at the beginnting, and laboring under unavoidable
disadv,antag,es.  Their  influence, however, has thus been
stimulating to all who are engaged in stuchl efforts, "provoking them to good works."  A  paragraphl in one of their
lectures expresses their spirit.  "It is observation and comprehension, not sympathy, which will discover the kind of
disease.  It is knowledge, not sympathy, which can administer the right medicine;  and though  wairm sympathetic
nattires, with knowledge, would make the best of all physicilans, without sound scientific knowledge, they would be
most unreliable and dangerous guidcles."  They are -tlso firm
in their conviction of the expediency of mingling the sexes in
all scholastic training, and have very reluctantly rvlinquished
52T 
528    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
for the present, the hope of opening the ordinary colleges to female applicants. In their mode of practice they adopt the main
features of the "regular" system, while refuising, to be absolutely bound by any such limitations in their examination
and use of remnedies.  On the whole, they furnish each as
complete an instance as has come under our observation
among  women,  of  cool, dignified, self-poised  character,
scorning, shams and artifices, resolutely, with disinterested
motive, set on the attainment of worthy ends.  In religious
connection, they are Episcopalians, though, in theology as
well as medicine, they seem to be independent searchers for
truth.
MISS HARRIOT K. HUNT, M. D.
Perhaps no American woman of our time has made herself
heard and felt in so many directions and amid such diverse
circumstances as Harriot K. Hunt.   Many have achieved
more eminence irr some one department, and the world of
fashion or literature or art recognize them where she is unknown.  But the parlor and the platform, the sick-room and
the court-room, asylums and churches, wretched hovels and
mansions of elegance, East and West, have been the scenes
of her animated speech and determined work. By the lovers
of truth and goodness, the radical philanthropists of various
orders, she is widely known. Many causes have been promoted by her public advocacy. In private relations many a
crushed, despairing woman has risen to new life under her
stirring appeals, many a bold, profligate man has shrunk
abashed before her pungcent rebukes.  It is difficult, therefore,
to eliminate the professional part of her history fiom the social and reformatory, as our design obliges us to do, and to
condense it into our brief limits.
She is a genuine Bostonian (a title which has significance, 
MISS HARRIOT K. HUNT, M. ]D.
both fiavorable and unfavorable), pedigreed, born, bred, and
habituated as such.  Her father, Joab HLunt, lived many years
in the street in which his parents and grandparents had lived
and died. He was of a strong stock, full of vitality physical
and mental.   Her mother, Kezia Wentworth, was of an
equally vigorous ancestry, and possessed a mind of remarkable qualities, argumentative, practical, independent, and
withal abounding in tenderness and genial brightness, as did
also her father, in whom humor and earnestness seem to have
been happily combined. He was a shipping merchant, and
through energy and prudence came into easy circumstances,
amid which, Hlarriot and her sister Sarah, the only children,
were reared. Harriot was born iii 1805, the first child, fourteen years after her parents' marriage, and was joyfully welcomed and carefully trailled. Her home was a happy one,
and everything which affection could devise to foster her
constitutional buoyancy of character was lavished upon her.
Nothing occurred to shade the steady brightness of her life
until 1827, when the sudden death of her father changed all
her prospects. HIis estate was found to be encumbered and
the settlement difficult. A few months previous, with some
intimations of his embarrassed affairs, the sisters had opened
a school, which became now the chief dependence of the
family, beyond the small income fiom the property. It was
also a means of discipline to themselves, qualifying them
for their future work, brought them more into contact with
the domestic lives of others, and acquainted them with those
private underlying facts in regard to the condition of young
girls and their home management, upon which so largely depends their health in maturer years.  Harriot says of it, "My
school was flourishing, and I loved it. Yet I never felt it my
true vocation. It seemed to be preparing me for something
higher and more permanent. It was but transitional." In
1830 her sister was prostrated by severe illness. This, with
34
529 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
the experience of medical treatment in connection with it,
formed the turning-point in the history of both.  It was a
distressing, complicated disease, and the prescriptions were
after the severest forms of the old school of practice. After
ten months' sickness without improvement, the sisters were
roused to consider and study. They procured medical books
and read, and arrived at the conclusion that the case had been
misunderstood.   Then came a change of physicians, with
some advantage; but the interest awakened in the study of
medicine and the conviction that much of the ordinary practice was blind and merely experimental, led them to pursue the
investigation further for themselves and for the benefit of
similar sufferers. In 1833, Mrs. Mott, an English woman,
established herself in Boston. Her husband was a physician,
but the care of female patients devolved chiefly upon her.
She made extravagant claims to medical skill in the treatment
of cases regarded as hopeless; yet her general success was
too evident to be denied. She attracted their attention, and,
in spite of friendly protests and the displeasure of former
attendants, the invalid was placed under her care.   The
result was favorable. After more than three years' confinement, she was soon able to walk the streets and to attend
church. Relations of intimacy and affection were created
between the physician and her patient's family. After a time
they changed their residence, leasing their own house, and
taking rooms in Mrs. Mott's.  Then the school was given up,
and Harriot accepted the position of secretary to Mrs. Mott,
conducting, an extensive correspondence with patients.  She
entered upon it with her usual ardor. It enlarged the sphere
of her observation, intensified her sympathy especially for
those afflicted with hidden ailments, and "deepened tihe ilnstinct which pointed her to the medical profession." MAeanwhile she read with avidity everything which bore upon it.
She was fascinated by it, eager for knowledge in each depart*
530 
MISS HARRIOT K. HUNT, M. D.
ment and delighted with the results of research. Her mind,
however, biased by her experience in her sister's case, turned
most readily in the direction of inquiry after the laws of
health. She "endeavored to trace diseases to violated laws,
and learn the science of prevention. That word, prevention,
seemed a great word to me," she says; "curative was small
beside it." The death of Dr. Mott caused Mrs. Mott to return to England and broke up the household.   Still the
studies were pursued, with an increasingly clear persuasion
of what the purpose of her life was to be, and a very distinct recognition of providential guidance in it. The period
spent thus, nearly three years (including her attendance in
Mrs. Mott's office), in addition to the more private reading
in the sick-room during the intervals of relief from school
duties, was one of extreme application. Few students after
the regular modes, with all the facilities of tuition afforded
them, have ranged over a wider field of knowledge or searched
it more thoroughly, so far as it can be exhibited in books.
The opportunities for more practical examination by the bedside, or in contact otherwise with the subjects of maladies,
came subsequently, and were pursued with an eagerness
sharpened by the consciousness of deficiency resulting from
the previous lack. In 1835 an office was opened, the two
names, Harriot and Sarah, associated. They studied and
practi,ed together. Often in the late night hours they recited
to each other lessons from medical works, or compared views
upon cases presented during the day. Each new case was a
fresh revelation to them, or gave them a deeper insight into
what they had already learned.  There is a singular charm
about this part of their biography, as we have ol)tained
glimpses of it. Harriot evidently took the lead in everything. She was thirty years of age,-the very acme of human
life, — ill vigorous health, every faculty fully developed and
toned to its highest point, of indomitable will and overflow
531 
532    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
IDg withl  enthusiasm.  With  no professional support,  no
conferred title as guaranty of capacity or attainment, no advertising resorts for attraction, she launched from the safe
harbor of domestic privacy and social protection upon an
untried sea of responsibility and public scrutiny, with suitable discretion, and yet with unflinching confidence that she
was on the track to which the Divine HIand had brought
her. Her practice was not after any established formulas.
She was bound by the regulations of no school, as none had
endorsed her. She valued the ordinary medicines, so far as
she perceived their restorative effects, but received and used
fieely any remedial agency whether moral or physical. She
writes, "I was particularly attracted to mental diseases and
often found physical maladies growing out of concealed sorrows.   We were frequently surprised by the successful termination of many of our cases through prescription for mental
states; and the causes of diseases, with the quality of remedies
for them, became a deeper study.  Love for our calling gave
life to the calling.  Every fact we gathered had its use, and
while the perceptive faculties were stimulated, the reflective
were educated for guidance."  And again, " Medication alone
is not to be relied on. In one-half the cases medicine is
not needed and is worse than useless. Obedience to spiritual
and physical laws - hygiene of the body and hygiece of the
spirit- is the surest warrant for health and happiness. It is
only the quacks of the profession, emulous of the quacks
ostracized by the faculty, who put their trust in dosing. The
true physician knows better."
Patients gathered slowly at first, but with steady increase.
Many were declined conscientiously, because beyond her
present knowledge or ability, and without any false pride of
reputation. Obstetrics and other surgery she never prac
tised. We pass over a few years, during which she was
gaining experience, position, influence, and property. Her 
MISS HARRIOT K. HUNT, M. D.
sister married and removed, and she was left alone in her
professional work, which began to grow rapidly in its demands upon her.  In 1843 a "Ladies' Physiological Society"
was organized in Charlestown, at her suggestion.  The members met twice a month, to read and converse upon topics
which the name indicates, while industriously occupied for
some benevolent object.  Within the year it increased in
numbers from a dozen to fifty, and was long sustained with
spirit and benefit, and, for aught we know, is still in active
existence. Its formation was eventful to Miss Hunt, as giving her the first hint of the possibility of lecturing to her own
sex. At many of their meetings she addressed them, and
acquired thus the freedom and facility of speech which she
has since exercised abundantly, before larger and more general audiences, upon a variety of subjects.  In 1847, at the
su,ggestion of friends, as well as the prompting of an earnest
wish for information through every avenue, she applied to
the faculty of Harvard College for permission to attend a
course of lectures in the medical department, stating that, at
the age of forty-two, after twelve years' practice, which had
become extensive, and ralking among her friends many of
the most intelligent citizens, it would be evident to them that
the request must proceed from no want of patronage, but
simply from a desire for such scientific light as could be imparted by their professors, and as would make her more worthy of the trusts committed to her.  The application was
refused, simply upon the ground of expediency, without as siogning, reasons. Three years afterward she repeated it,
acconipanying it with an able letter, hoping that the favor
with which MAiss Blackwell had been received elsewhere, and
the full discussion of the matter on several occasions, might
induce a different decision. It proved so; and permission
was granted by the proper officers. The students, however,
waxed indignant at the prospect of such an associate in their
533
it. 
534   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
studies (or, perhaps, such a witness of their manners), and
vehemently protested.   Unwilliing  to create  disturbance,
where her object had been entirely disinterested, she gen erously declined to avail herself of the long-coveted oppor tunity. The medical class of 1851, at Harvard, so unlike
that of 1846, at Geneva, in the case of Miss Blaclkwell,
gained for themselves an unenviable notoriety.  Ill 1853 the
Female Medical College, at iPhiladelphia, conferred upon
Miss Hunt the honorary degree of M.D.  She had well earned
it, and, whatever may be her technical irregularities, has collnferred as much honor upon the title as it has upon her.
In 1850 Miss Hunt began to attend conventions held with
reference to the interests and rights of woman. Every aspect of that movement profoundly affected her, and she,.gave
her influence earnestly to it.  Her special part in it, however,
and her public speech, when opportunity offered, was concerning the sanitary reforms needed among women, and their
right and duty to take care of themselves and each other and
their offspring in that respect. " Woman as physician to her
sex" was her theme.  The conventions furnished her fitting
occasions for urging, it.  They broulght her also more prominently before the public, and prepared the way for numerous
meetings, called for the purpose exclusively of listening to
her a ppeals upon the subject.  At intervals, through several
summers, as convenience served, and she could bp spared
from professional charge at home, she made tours through
New Englin.d, Newv York State, and Ohio, delivering addresses, organizing, associations, visiting colleges and schools.
That she spoke well and effectively may be inferred from the
character of her audiences, composed of the most intelligent
classes, and the practical results in societies formed, and new
impulse given to measures for the education of women in every
department. During the last few years her life has not been
marked by any events which could appropriately be noticed
t 
MISS HARRIOT K. HUNT, M. D.
in our sketch. She has continued her residence in Boston,
and pursued her practice in a steadily increasingo circle. Her
example has encouraged others to enter the field; and she
has now some able co-laborers in the city, whom she thankfuilly welcomes and assists, declaringl, "All women-workers
have my benediction."  At the end of twenty-five years she
celebrated her silver wedding to her profession. Her house
was crowded with cordial friends, who decorated it with
flowers, and testified their esteem by abundant tokens. Advanced in years, her spirit is still buoyant as ever. She
writes, "Knowitngo that all life is from the Lord, mine, professionally, has been radiant, and I have enjoyed so mu-ch in
it!" " My hair is white, but my life is precious to me." "As
year after year has glided away, I have gathered flowers and
fruits, which have cheered and beautified the approach of age.
Signal blessings, providential interpositions, interior guidance
in emergencies, religious thankfulness for strength in times
of need, distrust, and sin, mark the periods of my life, rather
than days antd months."  Sorrowing muich over  suffering,
with burning indignation against vices and oppressions, her
habitual mood is yet joyful; and few who come into her presence can resist its magnetic power, or fail to go from it
stirred to higher and purer endeavors.  She has cured many,
enli-ghtened, cheered, and elevated multitudes.
In religious faithl Miss Hunt is Swedenborg,ian, - attracted
to it, perhaps, by her imaginative and soulful temperament;
by her affinity with its subtile metaphysics, with which it penetrates and illuminates the physical sciences; by its ethereal
spirituality, and by the magic words, "truth, good, and love,"
with which it plays upon the fervent mind, yearning for harmony and peace, like evening, bell-chimes upon the ear
weary of the world's clamor. Whatever may be its doctrinal
soundness, its influence has been to invest her character and
535 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
experience with a peculiar glow deeply satisfactory to her self, and impressive to those who know her.
We have endeavored, thus, to represent impartially, three
of the most advanced, most trusted, and most successful fe male physicians of our country. They were pioneers in a
movement which has already resulted in the introduction of
hundreds to the same position. They prepared themselves
for it with fewer fa ilities than ally who have followed them;
bending circumstances to their will, rather than shaped in
their course by the stuggestion of circumstances; compelling
advantages, commnanding helps, forcing open  (but  never
.udely) avenues long closed to the sex.  It would be difficult
to find more complete contrasts than they present, both
physically and mentally; and yet, like the geometric problem
of the triangle described within the circle, they are, from their
distinct points of departure, perfectly included within the
same circle of aim and influence. The world owes a debt of
gratitude and honor beyond computation to those who, at
the sacrifice of much that was dear to them, in the face of
opprobrium or misjudgment, aware of the immense responsibilities involved, in the spirit of a true Christian ministry,
neither anticipating nor seeking the large emoluments which
have come to them, have led the way into such a sphere.
As we have more fully pondered the sub)ject, the persuasion
deepens that no more flagranlt wrong to humanity could be coinmitted, than that of hindering the entrance into it of any who,
with so pure intention and intelligent fitness, seek admission.
We could readily now extend much flirther our record of
worthy compeers in this work.  Diplomas are multiplying
year by year, and among the recipients are "honorable womeni
not a few." Every large city, and many of the smaller
towns, would fuirnish names to add to our roll of honor; and
a multitude of voices would unite in urging the claims of one
536 
MRS. HANNAH  E. LONGSHORE, M. D.  537
and another for a place upon it.  Our desire to express the
cordial  appreciation which  we  have  of  all  such  must,
however, be restrained.   We limit ourselves to the notice of
two, one as illustrating, the possibilities of large success in
general practice, the other the influences to be quietly exerted in the department of professional  instruction.   We
draw both instances from Philadelphia, partly because they
well represent the college established there, and partly because that city is probably the best field in which this branch
of woman: labors can fairly exhibit its fruits.
MRS. HANNAH E. LONGSHORE, M. D.
Mrs. Longshore is the daughter of Samuel and Paulian
Myers, born May 30th, 1819, in Montgcomery County, Maryland.  Her parents were natives of Burks County, Pennsylvania, and members of the "Society of Friends." When
she was two years old, they moved into the District of Columl)ia, where she received her early education, attending a
private school in Washington City.  In the year 1832, unwilling( to remailn longier under the demoralizilg influence of a
slave-holdingl community, they again changed their residence,
and settled on a fatrm in Columbiana County, Ohio.  Here
the whole household co-operated in industry and the most
rigid economy, to secure for themselves a quiet and happy
home.  Samuel Myers was evidently a man of practical religious character, and stron,g individuality, -one whom unwearying, diligence,  careful  reading, and  meditation had
developed into a good reasoner and  a sound philosopher.
Having had experience in teaching, and taking a deep interest
in his children, it was his daily practice to aid them in their
studies as well as to use every opportunity for familiarizing
their minds with the principles of science.  His aim was to 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
make study a pleasure, to quicken their perceptions and
strengthen their reflective powers. The "divinity of labor"
was also with him a cherished sentiment, part of his religious
creed. In his famnily and elsewhere he dwelt on it with em phasis. lIe maintained that every child had a right to the
best possible advantages for intellectual culture, and, equally,
that it was the interest and duty of society to train them in
habits of intelligent industry; that every one should contribute in some way to the common  product; no  sinecure
posts, no drones, no consumers who should not be either directly producers, or so actively helpful to the producers that
they could claim a share of the benefit, on the apostolic principle that "if any would not work neither should he eat."
His children grew up deeply imbued with this principle, and
with it a feeling of individual responsibility and self-reliance.
There were six children, one brother and five sisters. The
older sisters passed much time in the open air, in the society
of their father on the farmn, aiding him in the various branches
of labor adapted to their capacity. During the busiest seasons
in the field, however, a portion of the day was devoted to reading and to conversations between parents and children. All
the branches of natural science were more or less considered
during these periods, while at labor as well as in the intervals of rest.  It was beautiful and instructive to witness the
family group in these discussions, and note the thoughtfulness
and enthusiasm exhibited, - frequently the utmost eagerness
and exhilaration of spirit.  In the same connection religion,
morality, social reforms, politics, and whatever interested or
agitated society, received such share of their attention as
other duties permitted, and the mental development of each
child seemed to demand. In these respects they were different from most of their acquaintances.  Independent, united,
satisfied with their domestic resources for enjoyment, they
became somewhat isolated. They were respected in the
538 
MRS. HANNAH E. LONGSHORE, M. D.  539
neig,hborhood, yet feared and shunned by many as eecentrie.
Summer after summner, in rural simplicity, was thus occupied.
When not working in the field, hannah was assisting a delicate, feeble mother in household duties, and caring( for the
younger children.  These physical toils, combined with mental activity, imparted discipline and courage to accomplish
whatever task was undertaken. The comparative leisure of
winter was more fully devoted to study, occupied as pupil or
teacher in the district school.  She attended one term at the
New  Lisbon Academy, about two miles from  her home.
This distance she walked  at morniing and evening, regularly braving the storms, the bitter cold, and drifting snow.
Neither the long walk, nor domestic duties, nor other trifling
reasons, were ever offered or needed as an excuse for imperfectly prepared lessons.  Beside the milking-pail, the
churn, the wash-tub, the ironing-tablle, somewhere would the
book be placed, that study might progress while the hands
were busy. She joined the literary society connected with
the academy, prepared essays, and gave lectures on scientific
subjects.
. At a very early period an interest in anatomy was developed. When ten years of age she was often occupied in the
examination of insects, and the dissection of small animals,
pursuing it with the same nicety and accuracy with which
she would also analyze flowers, to gratify a craving for kniowledg,e in these departments.  Very soon her attention was
turned to the study of medicine, with a view to practise, by the
family physician, whose prescriptions it had been her part to
administer in the family.  Arrangements were made to commence regular reading; but untoward events frustrated the
plan, and it was postponed.  At the age of twenty-two she
married, and the subsequent six years were chiefly devoted
to domestic duties, partly on a farm, and partly in a quiet
village.  This, though apparently a blank portion of her 
540    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
history, was not blank in useful experience.  It was here
that her well-developed, but comparatively unregulated forces
of mind and heart, and indomitable energy, were concentrated
and directed into a practical channel.  She was put upou her
own resources, and her innate executive qualities were brought
into requisition. Never entirely satisfied that she was occu pyiig her whole sphere, she nevertheless resolved that she
would fill that portion of it well. The proficiency she acquired in the performance of every service connected with
house-keeping,, and the charge of a family in sickness and
health, she often refers to with thankfulness. Without this
skill and experience she would not feel qualified to meet the
emergencies often occurring in her relations to other families,
nor to practise her profession with thoroughness. At the
end of these six years events favored a change in her circumstances, and the busy cares of a farmer's wife were exchanged
for the quiet village home, with only her own family, consisting of husband and two children, to occupy her. It was
then, when her youngest child was four years old, and some
leisure offered, that she resumed her favorite study. The
books and maps, skeletons, and preparations of her brotherin-law, Prof. J. S. Longshore, who was also her preceptor,
were at her service. She proceeded with the usual course,
and at the eild of two years entered as a student the "Female
Medical College of Pennsylvania," located in Philadelphia.
It was the first session of that institution. At the close of
the second session, ill 1850, she was one of the ten members
who composed the first graduating class.  As an indication
of regard for her qualifications, the faculty immediately elected
her "Demonstrator of Anatomy," and she acceptably served
the college in that capacity.  Her "sign" was the first one
exhibited in Philadelphia by any female graduate in medicine.
The calls of patients were at first few, and principally of the
poorer classes.  It was found no easy matter for an entire 
MRS.  IIANNAH E. LONGSHORE, M. D.  541
stranger, unheralded, to obtain practice.  Ignorance, prejudice, and petty persecution were to be encountered. Sneers
and ridicule were the staple arguments against her.  Some
gentlemen of the profession took special pains to array public
sentiment against the movement.  "A  woman's intellectual
incapacity and her physical weaknesses will ever disqualify
her for the duties." "She will either kill her patients or let
them die." "It would be evidence of insanity'or idiocy to
employ her."  " If you call in a woman you will have to call
a man afterward, and no man will meet a woman in consultation."  These expressions were heard on every side.  With
unwavering purpose and confidence in ultimate success, she
was not discouraged, but availed herself of this enforced leisure, to prepare and deliver a course of "Lectures to Ladies
on Medical Subjects." She also delivered a carefully written
lecture, on the "Medical Education of Women," to a large
and appreciative audience, in one of the largest halls of the
city, and repeated it, as well as the course to ladies, in other
halls and churches. These lectures, besides ilnducing consideration and right views upon the general subject, introduced
her more fully to the public, and enabled her hearers to form
some judgment of her qualifications for the duties she had
assumed.  The result was, that, one by one, many of those
who heard her called on her for advice and aid. By the
third year her practice had increased so that she was obliged
to abandon all idea of further lectures, and also to resign her
position as demonstrator in the college. Since then it has
steadily extended, until few physicians of either sex, and
among women perhaps none, except Mrs. Lozier, can equal
it. As many as three hundred families in the city rely upon
her exclusively for medical care, and it is no uncommon thing
for her to prescribe for forty patients in a day.- Her practice is
leg,itimate and general, that is, it includes all forms of disease,
acute and chronic, in respectable family treatment, with sur 
542   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
gery among women and children. Of the latter, she has had
occasion to perform many extremely delicate and dangerous
operations, - with what success, the best testimony that can
be desired, is the growing confidence with which she is called
upon by the most intelligent class of citizens. The objection
often urged against the introduction of female physicians,
that they cannot endure the inevitable fatigues and exposures,
-has met a practical answer in the instance of Mrs. Longshore.
Inheriting from her mother a delicate constitution, her early
childhood was one of sensitiveness and suffering, notwithstanding the benefit derived from the mode of life which we
have described, judiciously regulated. At the age of fifteen she
very narrowly escaped from a prostrating and protracted
attack, requiring many months for recovery. At the time
of graduation, the faculty predicted an early death from consumption. Since then her weight has greatly increased, and
she gives every token of vigor. It is her conviction that her
continued life and present degree of health are due to the
active habits of the profession.
Mrs. Longshore is constitutionally extremely diffident.
For many years she was so easily embarrassed that she
dreaded and shunned society, beyond the limited circle of a
few friends. To appear in public as a lecturer, and to visit
strangers professionally, always required a struggle against
this timidity and the habit of reserve; yet she has so far subdued it, by absorption in her objects, that it would hardly be
detected in her deportment. In appearance she is characterized by entire simplicity, equally removed from coarseness
and from affectation; not adopting the Quaker costume and
language, but plain in her mode of speech and dress, with an
openness of countenance expressive of a truthful spirit.
Direct, unhesitating, and informal in her approach to a case;
unpretending, and yet evidently assured in the exercise of
her judgmenlt; with a peculiar mingling of personal modesty 
MRS. HANNAH E. LONGSHORE, M. D.  543
and  professional  positiveness,  she ilnspires  patients with
immediate trust, which is rarely forfeited.  Cool, cheerfil,
rapid ill her manner as physician, almost seenling to make
light of their ailments, she leaves them refreshed by her visit,
scarcely conscious of their need of condolence, and yet Often
before leaving the houses of those endeared to her by long
acquaintance or dependence upon her care, she sheds the
tears of a true woman and a sympathizing mother. Her
mind acts with the quicknefs of intuition or of keen perceptions, and a brief interview, with a few questions, usually
suffices to guide her in the choice of remedies. In her selection of these, she is not governed by any routine, nor limited
to one school of medicine, but considers that she is at liberty
to avail herself of any means which her experience has proved
useful or the peculiarities of the case suggest.  For some
'ime past, the prejudices which she at first encountered from
the " fraternity," especially under the pressure of resolutions
early adopted by the county society and some other org,anizations, have yielded to the evidences of her ability; and now
some of the leading physicians of the city freely meet her in
consultation, while others, too much trammelled by regulations, or personal fears, to act openly, have recommended her
to their female patients, and, in several instances, while publicly uniting in measures of opposition to women as practitioners, have privately sent to her for treatment their own
wives and daulghters.
In the midst of these exacting and exhausting claims upon
her time, MIrs. Longshore is, ill her domestic relations, affectionate and faithful.  Her husband and children are preferred
above all other objects of interest.  Without them, she often
declares that life would lose its chief charm to her,- a declaration the sincerity of which they and her intimate friends
fully credit and abundantly testify, and which is confirmed
by the order of her household, and by her readiness at any 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
time to consult their comfort at the sacrifice of her own.
Her warm and active sympathy, also, with every movement
promising benefit for the wronged, the oppressed, and suffering, especially to those of her own sex, is well known among
her friends.  Her gratuitous labors among the poor she has
always felt to be a duty, and congenial to her disposition.
She never knowingly accepts a fee from the needy, while she
is constantly distributing food, clothing, and other comforts,
gathered from every source within her reach. Not so much
marked by the devotional element, or uplifting spirituality, as
some whom we have already noticed, she is certainly abundant
in those fruits of pure and undefiled religion, which consist
in visiting the widow and the fatherless in their affliction,
and keeping unspotted from the world, and we trust is actuated in it by the divine precept "to do good and to communicate; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased."
A younger sister, Miss Jane V. Myers, M. D., resides in
her family, and has a large and lucrative independent practice.
An older half-sister, Mrs. Mary F. Thomas, M. D., now
living at Camden, Indiana, has been actively engaged in that
State several years. For two years she was editor, and for
a longer time contributor to a semi-monthly journal devoted
mainly to the cause of women, published in Richmond,
Indiana.   During the rebellion she was occupied much in
collecting and distributing supplies, and a portion of the time
her husband, O. Thomas, M.D., and herself had charge of a
hospital in Tennessee.
MISS ANN PRESTON, M.D.
If we were seeking a subject for an attractive biography
merely, there are many.women whom we might have chosen
in preference to Miss Preston, for the striking characteristics
544 
MISS ANN PRESTON, M. D.
or stirring incidents which their lives would have furnished;
yet there are few whose lives are more worthy of record, or
their qualities of imitation, or whose work has been more ef fective for the cause we are advocating.  Illdeed, the few facts
which we are allowed to use are given us for their bearings
upon the cause, rather than for personal representation. Identi
fled with the college and the hospital, she prefers to be known
chiefly through them, and to have her reputation merged
in whatever good they may accomplish. Yet the public,
who witness and honor these results of unobtrusive labor, have
right to know more of the personality of one whb is so
clearly a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.
She was born December, 1830, at West Grove, Pennsylvania, in the old homestead of her grandfather, where her
father was born and died, and where she lived until constrained
to leave it for a wider sphere of action.  Her father was Amos
Preston, a devoted Quaker. An obituary notice of him, by
one who had known hinm from chillhoo)d, speaks of him as a
man of unusual intellectual gifts, " enthusiastic in the pursuit
of truth, particularly on those subjects which most nearly
affect the present and everlasting welfitre of the race, and
inflexibly faithful to his convictions of duty; possessed of a
warm social nature and a rare faculty for entering into sympathly with the wants and interests of others, which, together
with his acknowledged disinterestedness, inspired confidence,
so that he was trusted and loved by his personal friends as
few men have been.   In the domestic relations the beauty of
his character shone conspicuous.  The f.tmily government was
that of perfect love, white frankness and mutual confidence
marked his intercourse with his children."  Her mother also is
mentioned as "fond of literature and having an intense love of
nature, with a sensitive nervous organization. r Miss Preston
evidently coml)ines in herself the cons;;tutional traits of botha
parents.  Her only sister dying in infancy, the delicate health
35
545 
546   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
of her mother brought the chief care of a large family upon
her, making her early life one of close occupation and grave
responsibilities.  Her opportunities for education were therefoi)re limited to the country school (which, however, was of high
order), and a period spent ait boarding-school in West Chester,
the county town. But the neighborhood of their residence
was one of remarkable intellectual activity and culture, andcl
of moral excellence. A valuable public library, with a Lyceum and Literary Association, gave tone to society, diffused
intelligence and promoted discussion upon all current questions. She regards her connection with these as one of the
richest blessings of her youth, and as having important bearing upon her subsequent life. During that period, also, she
shared largely with true-hearted men and women in earnest
efforts of general philanthropy. Her influence in these directions was distinctly marked, while in the genlial domestic
circle, amid all her practical duties, she was cultivating a refined taste, often evinced in poetic effusions, whose pure sentiments have been appreciated by many readers.
To a mind like hers, uniting keen sensibilities with energy
.of purpose and breadth of aim, the charms of such a home
must have been great, while the impulse to pass beyond its
limitations was equally strong.
The years, however, passed on profitably and happily,
until she reached maturity. She would long before have
entered some wider and less secluded path, had not her moth er's continued need of assistance, while six brothers were
reaching manhood, seemed an imperative claim.   But the
aspiration to more fully "labor for God's suffering ones"
was pressing.  The time had come when she felt the nleces sity for a broader field of satisfyiing work, and a fuller inde pendence than was possible with her surroundings.   She
loved study, and medical subjects were peculiarly interesting
to her, yet she had not shaped for herself the course which 
MISS ANN PRESTON, M. D.
she shotild permanently take. At this midway point, when
the ties which had so long bound her to the ordinary routine
of woman's cares were loosened, and the remaining half of
probable life required definite direction, in 1850 the "Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania" was opened at Philadelphia.   Information of proposals preliminary to it had
reached her and engaged her thoughtful attention, and when
they developed into practical form it commended itself to
her as meeting a vital want in society. It satisfied the desires of her own  mind.   Without hesitation she turned
toward it as settling the question of what her future should
be, and became one of the first applicants for admission as a
student.   The college opened favorably, with a faculty of
six professors, regular practitioners, and graduates of regular schools; though encountering, as was  anticipated, the
opposition of a large portion of the profession.  It was the
first in the world chartered for the purpose, with the usual
appliances for the instruction of women in all the departmenets of medical learnilng.  Imperfections were unavoidable
at the outset of such an enterprise, pecuniary means inadequate, a self-sacrificing disposition needed on the part of all
engaged in it.  But, " sustained by the profound  conviction
that the cause was right and must succeed, that the study
and practice of medicine are adapted to woman's nature, that
the profession and the world need-her, and that her entrance
into this enlarged sphere of virtuous activity is the harbinger
of increased happiness and health for her and the race,"- they
patiently continued their work. Miss Preston, with thorough enthusiasm, and yet with the calm steadiness of a
ripened mind, entered into the whole movement, while on
her own part pursuing faithfully every branch of allotted)
study.  It was a great change from the rural scenes in which;
her unruffled life had been spent, uncongenial to her temperament and habits; but no personal considerations could turn
. 547 
548   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
'er from her course.  Firm-willed and deeply conscientious,
she devoted every energy to preparation for the new responsiblities which she was to assume.  Her attainments were as
complete as her opportunities rendered possible. She commenced practice in the city without ostentation or undue
eagerness for occupation, true to the principles which she
has often since urged upon students: "None can sustain
others who are not themselves self-sustained;"  Nothing, but
strict inward rectitude can give that repose and strength to
the spirit which will enable it to bear up safely through every
difficulty; " "Those who are admitted into the very sanctuaries of society, and entrusted with the most sacred confidences, should indeed be strong and wise, and pure and
good;"'If you prove yourselves capable and worthy, society
is ready to receive you, but solid superstructures are the
work of time, and slowly, carefully, woman  must work her
way." Conforming to the general rule expressed in this last
sentence (to which instances like Mrs. Longshore are exceptional), she deliberately felt her way into her true position.
Friends who perceived her abilities aided her advancement.
Arrangements were made for her to lecture to classes in Philadelphia, Baltimore, New York, and other places. Meanwhile
changes occurred in the college faculty, and in 1854 Miss
Preston was elected to the chair of "Physiology and IHygiene,"
which, as well as the position of "Dean," she still occupies.
It is well adapted to her taste, and gives fiLll scope to her capabilities. She fills it with dignity and acceptance. The annual
announcements of the college prepared by her, are models
of clear, sound, and forcible statement, while her introductory
lectures and valedictory addresses, delivered by appointment
of the faculty, are replete with striking, thoughts.   In 1861
"The Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia" was incorporated,
au essential auxiliary to the college and an invaluable charity.
It has attained alrealy a position which commands for it the 
MISS ANN PRESTON, M. D.
highest respect of the community, has received liberal contributions for its endowment, and possesses a handsome property in buildings and grounds.  Nearly three thousand patients
were treated through its means, and at the dispensary connected
with it, during the past year.  Miss Preston was at the outset
appointed one of its board of managers, correspondiung secretary, and consulting physician, and still acts in those capacities.  During this period her private practice has become
sufficiently established and remunerative to meet all her wishes,
though her frail health, requirilng constant vigilance against
over-exertion, has obliged her to limit it, - refilsing night calls
and obstetrical cases.  In 1867 the Philadelphia County Medical Society adopted a preamble and resolutions settiing forth in
plain terms their objections to the practice of medicine by
women, and declinling to meet them in consultation,- a conclusion, however, by which many of their most reliable members
refused to be bound. Miss Preston immediately published a
reply, so admirable in temper and argument as to turn the tide
of opinion, both in the profession and outside of it, amongr intelligent observers, very much in favor of those in whose behalf she wrote. No rejoinder, so far as we are informed, was
attempted; but the restraints upon consultation have been relaxed instead of confirmed, and a better understanding of the
whole subject now prevails.  Of course we do not ascribe the
improvement entirely to this cause, yet we cannot doubt that
the adjustment of these difficulties, as well ats the advanced
ground occupied by the medical work for women in that vicinit,, is owing, as much to her well-regulated, judicious, but intelligent, firm and persistent efforts as to any other that can
be named. Personally her position in the esteem of the public, and more intimately of a large circle of friends, is beyond
dispute or possible change, and tranquilly though busily she
occupies it. With the care whi,h she has learned to exercise
over hereditary susceptibilities, many years more of usefill
549 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
ness appear probable for her, within which she can hardly
fail to see her utmost aims accomplished for the institutions
and objects to which she has dedicated herself with a true consecration, while many who go out from her instructions will
bear the permanent impress of her serene, unwavering
character.
550
I 
CAMILLA URSO.
CAMILLA URSO.
BY  MARY  A. BETTS.
eco.
" THE violin is the violet," says the Chevalier Seraphael in
that most imaginative and fantastic of musical novels, "Charles
Auchester." How came the fancy to the writer's brain?
Was it because the violet, with its trembling blue petal and
its evanescent fragrance, reminds one of the woods, the mingling, harmonies of brook and bird-voice, of wind-swept trees
and restless wind? Or, was it because to the artist the violet was the most perfect of flowers and the violin of instruments?
An instrument it certainly is of torture and delight. How
we have all groaned at the melancholy squeaks of a poor
fiddle in the street!  With what a rapture have we followed
the violins in the orchestra, as their penetrating and aerial
tones completed for us the harmonic pictures or the wordless
songs! And in the hands of a genius whose  thoughtful
brain and ardent heart have comprehended and mastered its
powers, what a magical shell is this crooked, stringed, SOnforous thing of wood!
The brain and heart of a true violinist came into the world
one summer-day in the city of Nantes, France.  This beautiftil old Huguenot city was then the residence of Salvator
Urso, a musician from Palermo, Sicily, (Lnd his Portuguese
wife, whose maiden name was Emilie Girouard.  Signor Urso
was an crg,anist and flutist of rare merit, educated thoroughly
551
4
6 
552   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
in all the principles of his art by his father, who had done
heaLrty service to lmusic in younger days.  Onl the 13th of
June, 1842, Camilla Urso was born,-thle first child of a
happy union.  Though tfour brothers followed her, the little
daughter was most passionately beloved by her fatlher, who
gloried in her inheritance of that gift which had been his
'esource and  conIstant pleasure.   The  wlrm Southern sky
never looked upon a more attractive child than the little Camilla.  Youlng geniuses are not always charming,.  Precocity
is often accompanied by conceit and nervous irrital)ility. But
Camilla's bright cheerfulness was even more fascinatitng than
her talent.
She was alive to all the subtle mysteries of sound at an age
when the "Cradle Song " is the favorite melody of most chil
dren.  Her father was first flutist in the orchestra of the
opera, and carried her to the theatre almost every night.
Through the long performances she sat, rapt in childish hlappiness,  never growing tired, never weary  of repetition.
AIadarne Urso now declares that she heard more operas then
than she has listened to ever since.
At the age of six she found and proved her vocation. IJer
father was organist at the Church of the Hioly Cross.  One
clday she stood listening at his side while the choir performed
the mass of St. Cecilia.  Solemnly, slowly, the  organ tones
swelled and died.  Clear voices of soprano and tenor rose
upon the air with the saddening plaint of I'yrie  Eleison.
The orchestral harmonies interwove their pathetic or triumphant music. The dark-haired child, with the broad brow and
swveet, parted lips, listened, -not awed by the ulder-wave of
the mighty o,rgan, not following with curious, imitative mouth
the soaring voices and melodious words, - but enchanted for
life by the inarticulate passion and sorrow of the violiii's cha,nging vibrations. The last note of the mass floated into silence,
but the little Camilla did not mingle in the crowd of depart
'o 
CAMILLA URSO.
mng worshippers.  Her father's hand aroused  her, and she
walked home announcingo in a firm tone, which was  most
amusing, coming from that tiny figure: "I wish to learn the
violin."
Her studies were immediately begun, and her progress was
most rapid.  In a year she appeared at a concert given for
the benefit of a widow, whose husband had been one of
Signor Urso's friends.
The announcement of the concert astonished the citizens
of Nantes.  It was considered the height of absurdity for a
child to attempt to play on so difficult an instrument. Friends
came to applaud, enemies to laugh, but all were amazed and
dlelighted.  Little Camilla had no timidity, no anxiety for
success.  Her new white satin shoes, the first she had ever
put on, were much more engrossing for the time than the
violin she was to handle. The principal journal of Nantes
spoke thus of the performance:
"Never had violinist a pose more exact, firmer, and at the
same time perfectly easy; never was bow guided with greater
precision than by this little Urso, whose delivery made all
the mothers smile. Listen, now, to the Air Vari6e of the celebrated De Beriot; under these fingers, which are yet often
busied with dressing a doll, the instrument gives out a purity
and sweetness of tone, with an expression most remarkable.
Every light and shade is observed, and all the intentions of
the composer are faithfully rendered. Here come more energetic passages: the feeble child will find strength necessary,
and the voice of the instrument assumes a fullness which one
could not look for in the diminutive violin.  Effects of double
stopping, staccato, rapid arpe,ggios, - everything is executed
with the same precision, the same purity, the same grace.
It is impossible to describe the ovation that the child received.
Repeatedly interrupted by applause and acclamations, she
553
0 
554    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
was saluted at the end by salvos of bravos and a shower of
bouquets."
Soon after this Signor Urso went to Paris, resigning his
position at Nantes for the purpose of giving the most thorough musical education to the daughter of whose genius he
was so proud. He proposed that she should be received into
the Conservatoire.
The professors met the propositi9n with incredulity and
amazement.  "Absurd, indeed!" they said; "she istooyoung,
and a woman cannot be a pupil of the Conservatoire." But
Signor Urso persisted. "Only hear her," he said, "before
deciding." So the little sprite appeared before the most exacting,, the most critical of juries.  Auber, Rossinii, Meyerbeer, and Massart were among the judges.
They retired for a decision, and at the door the little appli
cant and the trembling, father waited.  At last the answer
came.   The new pupil was accepted unanimously.   The
father's hat went into the air with triumph.
For three years Camilla studied almost incessantly. No
advantages were wanting to the young aspirant for musical
honors. Simon was her first teacher, but her chief instructor
was Massart, who took an extraordinary interest in the development of her powers. He received her into his class,
and gave her, in addition, private lessons. All this instruction was gratuitous.
From this time she had no opportunity for the amusements
other children enjoy. She practised ten and twelve hours a
day, learning harmony, solfe,ggi, and mnasteritng difficulties
far beyond her years. To acquire that steadiness of position
for which she is now so remnarkable, she placed one foot in a
saucer while playing.  Fear of breaking the dish was a sufficient motive to keep her feet motionless; and to this simple 
CAMILLA URSO.
contrivance we are indebted, in part, for Madame  Urso's
wonderful accuracy and agreeable repose of mannier.
The years of training were interrupted by a series of concerts ill the departments and a three months' tour in Germanly.
This-was a special indulgence, as pupils (of the Conservatoire
are not allowed to play in public. Camilla performed at
Heidelberg, Baden-Baden, and Mayence, receiving, everywhere the recognition due to an artist, not to a prodigy.
That German public, so devoted to music in its highest forms,
led by masters of such varied genius, took the child to its
heart. Nobles and princes paid her compliments and bestowed beautiful presents upon her. A countess, who took
the most affectionate interest in her, insisted on giving her an
ornament she had worn at her own confirmation, -a large
cross of pearls attached to a long chain of red coral.
From these triumphs she returned to Paris and her studies
with Massart.
In a few months she appeared at the public concerts of
Paris, at the Salle Herz, the Societe Polytechnique, the Con.servatoire, and the Association of Musical Artists.   Her
success was great.  A  critic, speaking of her at this time,
says:
She is walking in the steps of the greatest virtuosi.  She
plays the violin, not as a well-organized child might play
after a certain period devoted to study, but, indeed, with a
skill truly prodigious. Her pose, her energy, her bowing,
reveal the consummate artist. But what is most surprising
is the sentiment of her execution; she excels in that essential expression which comes wholly from the soul, and which
the composer, from lack of means to note and write out,
abandons to the discretion and intelligence of the executant."
At the ag,e of nine she performed before Louis Napoleon,
then President of the National Convention. He wras greatly
555 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THIE AGE.
delighted with her playing, and promised that, if he should
ever advance in position and influence, she might claim his
protection, and he would be happy to do her ally favor in his
power.  The wily "Man of Destiny," whose ambition was
even then planning the renewal of the empire, and an attempted mastership of Europe, has probably forgotten the
pledge.  Camilla has never reminded him of it, preferring to
depend on her own powers for all place she may hold in the
world's esteem.
In 1852 the little Urso received propositions from a Mr.
Fatgas, of North Carolina, to come to America. Hie offered
her a salary of twenty thousand dollars a year; and, as the
faimily was in need.of the assistance the child's violin could
give, the offer was gladly accepted.
Preparations were made for an extensive tour, and a concert-troupe of eight was engaged.  Auber, hearing of her
intended departure, presented her with the following testimonial, which she justly regards as one of her dearest
treasures:
"NATIONAL CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC AND OF DECLAMATION.
" PARIS, August 12, 1852.
"Mademoiselle Camilla Urso is a young pupil of the National Conservatory of Music. Although still at a very tender
ag,e, she has obtained brilliant success in several concerts in
Paris, and above all at the Conservatory, where the jury have
decreed to her by election the first prize at the competition
for the prizes of the year.
"Learning that she is soon to depart for the United States,
I am delighted to state the happy qualities which ought to
ensure her a noble artistic career.
"The Americans have already nobly proved that they are
not only just appreciators of the fine arts, especially of music,
but that they know as well how to recompense with generosity
556 
CAMILLA, URSO.
the merits of the celebrated artists who are heard in the hospitable towns of their rich and beautiful country.
" AUBER,
"Member of the Institute,
"Director of the Conservatory."
The child-artist came to this country with her father, but
they soon discovered the insinuating Faugas to be a swindler.
The moneys for Camilla's services were not forthcoming, and
the eigagement was hastily broken.
The Germania Society now offered an engagement, and the
little Urso played for them a year, meeting everywhere with
great applause and admiration. At the end of the year she
joined Madame Alboni, who was then singing in this country, and performed at six concerts with her in Trippler Hall,
New York.
In 1852 Madame Henriette Sontag, Countess Rossi, came
to this country to make a trial of the public which had received Jenny Lind with such enthusiasm and generosity. She
won honors everywhere by her dramatic talent and marvellous
voice.
Hearing of Camilla Urso's success, she proposed to add her
to her owvn concert-troupe. At the conclusion of his daughter's engagement with Albonli, Signor Urso accepted the
overtures of Sontag, and Camilla joined her at Cincinnati, in
December, 1853.
Brief as was their connection, the most tender relations
were established between them. Nothing could be more
beautiful than the sight of this magnificent woman, who was
then. the imperial mistress of song, surrounding with truly
maternal kindness the lonely little novice whom chance had
brought to her arms.
The generous affection of Madame Sontag was never forgotten by the child, and the now famous violinist speaks of
her benefactress with a devotion which years cannot diminish.
557
e 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
"She was perfection- an angel, in talents, temper, and
goodness. At fifty-two one would kneel to her,-what must
she have been at twenty? She herself took the place of my
mother, who was not in America.   She plaited my hair,
attended to my dresses, and cared for me in everything."
Camilla accompanied Madame Sontag to New Orleans,
where they gave eighteen concerts, followed by six weeks
of opera, in which Madame Sontag was the star. The two
artists created a genuine furore, exciting their Southiern audiences to the highest pitch of enthusiasm.  Bouquets came
ill showers, and the applause was incessant.   One  night
Madame Sontag carried eighty-six bouquets from the stage,
and the fairy violinist often received fifteen or twenty.
From New Orleans Madame  Sontag, went to Mexico, and
Camilla never saw her again. They parted In March, 1854,
and Signor Urso took his daughter to Savannah, and subsequenltly gave concerts in different  cities of Georgia and
some other Southern States. They then returned to New
York, where, in May, they heard of the sudden death of
Madame Sontag by cholera.
The news of this loss prostrated the sensitive child with
grief. She refused to appear at concerts, and seemed to lose
all animation and vivacity. A change of scene was at last
imperatively necessary, and she went with her father to
Canada in 1856.
This trip was very successful, though not entirely professional.  She  travelled through the country, giving some
concerts, and winning admiration from crowded houses.
One incident of her trip was very enjoyable, -her reception on board of a French corvette. The officers desired to
do honor to their gifted little compatriot, and invited her to
visit them.  She was then a charming young lady of fourteen. She appeared before her admiring friends ill a costume
558 
CAMILLA URSO.,
combining the three national colors of France. The gallant
marines showed her a hundred graceful attentions, presented
her with bouquets, and she, in return, bewitched tlem wvith
the music of her violin.
While in Canada she met with a serious loss.  Her collection of presents, containing a magnificent bracelet presented
by the Germania Society; her cross of pearls with its chain
of coral, and other ornaments of great value, prized as the
souvenirs of her childhood's triumphs, and' her European
residence, were in New York.  On the 22d of February, 1859,
when the people of the hlouse where she had left her property had
gone to see the annual parade in honor of Washington's birthdlay, some one entered and possessed himself of her jewels.
Search was unavailing, nothing was ever again heard of them.
On her return from Canada her mother met her in New
York.  The joy of mother and daughter, reunited after so
long a separation, may easily be imagined.  They spent some
time together, and then professional duties called the child
away.  She had received overtures from a M1rs. McCready,
a reader of some celebrity at that time, to accompany her in
a tour through the West. They proceeded as far as Nashville,
Signor Urso remaining in New York, when Camilla discoveredcl that the contract was not to be fulfilled, the readings not
to be continued, -in short, that she had fillen once more into
the hands of swindlers.  The McCreadys, after treating her
with great injustice and unkindness, left her penniless in
Nashville.  A pitiful position fo)r a young girl scarcely fifteen
years old! But Camnilla's courage and resources were filly
eqiual to the occasion.  This timid creature, who had always
relied entirely on her father's advice and direction, - who had
not been educated into that habit of self-reliance so frequently
a characteristic of American girls, - determined to give a concert herself. She wrote to her friends giving information of
the state of affairs, and then applied to a musician of the
5019 
EMINENT WOMIEN OF THE AGE.
city for some counsel as to time and place. She enlisted the
sympathy of the citizens of Nashville. The result was a full
house, and four hundred dollars for the empty pocket.
Soon after this she retired from public life. For five years
she did not appear in a professional character except for charitable purposes. But the cherished violin did not lose its
power in these years of quiet.  She learned more of life, and
through varied experience her genius grew.
When she returned to the concert hall, on the 16thl of
March, 1863, at a Philharmonic concert in New York, she
won instantly her old place, and "rained influence " upon us
with those calm wavings of her enchanted bow.   She was
soon engaged to play at the Philharmonic concerts in Boston.
In the autumn of 1863 she received a beautiful gift from some
of the modern Athenians in the form of a watch and chain,
-the watch decorated with green enamel, and a diamond
o     f      great v alue.  On one side of the watch was eng,raved,
"CAMILLA URSO.
FROM HER BOSTON FRIENDS.
Nov. 8th, 1863."
The gift was enclosed in a velvet b)ox, bearing upon the
cover her initials ill gold within a laurel wreath.
Engagements now crowded upon her, and she visited in succession most of the cities that had known her as a child,
spending much time in Boston, New York, and Chicago.
In 1864 she went to Europe, sailing ill the "China," on the
26th of August. Reachling Liverpool she prepared at once
to go to Paris, - her home for some years, and the scene of
some of her earliest triumphs. She was wonderfully successful in this centre of art, and became the "lioness of the
saloons."
Pasdeloup's monster orchestra was then performing'in the
Cirque Napoleon.  Paris, with all ifs superb theatres has no
560 
CAMILLA URSO.
large music hall.  Camilla Urso was invited to play with this
orchestra, and played, at one of their concerts, Mendelssohn's
great concerto.
The  minister of fine  arts, Count Newerkerque, sent
for her to play at the palace of the Louvre. Never had
she performed before so distinguished an assembly as there in
the beautiful cabinet of the minister.  Two hundred and fifty
gentlemen were present.  Diplomatists, princes, and soldiers,
with their hard-won crosses, rendered homage to the fair violinist, who saw with delight the faces of Alexander Dumas,
Lord Cowley, and Professor Alard. Iher finest morceau o.;
this occision was'I Fanta,ie-Caprice of Vieuxtemps.
From Paris she went to Arras, Boulogne, Valenciennes,
and Cambray.  At Boulogne she appeared at two successive
concerts given by the Musical Society of that town, -a circumstauce almost unknown in the records of the society.
After spending fourteen months abroad, she returned: to
America, where she has remained ever since.  Her life since
then has been the same story of travel, study, and concerts.
She has become a great favorite both in the East and West.
What Boston thinks of her may be understood from the
fact that she has given more than one hundred concerts in
that city. There she feels herself entirely at home, surrounded by sympathetic and appreciative friends. One of
the sincerest and most highly prized of all tributes to her
musical accomplishments is a letter, which was addressed to
her, after a concert iln Music Hall, by the musicians of the orchestra of the " Harvard Association: "
" We, the undersigned, members of the musical profession
in Boston, who have been recently witnesses of the extraordinary musical talent displayed by Camilla LTrso, in her
performances on the violin, deem it our pleasure and duty as
brethren (who, it may be admitted, are the more thoroughly
561
44 
562   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
capable of recognizing, skill in this department of the art) to
offer some fitting testimonial to her.  In no way, perhaps,
can we express our regard so beneficially as by givilng to the
public a professional estimate of her ability.
We would especially record her performance of the violin
concerto by Mlendelssohn, -one of the most difficult works for
that instrument; her playing of which was so marvellously
fine and near perfection itself as to excite our highest admiration.  It is not enough to say that it was a wonderful performnance for a woman; it was a consummate rendering, which
probably few men living could improve upon.
It may seem needless to characterize her playing, but a few
-traits may be pointed out, namely, her complete repose of manner; largeness of style; broad, full, and vigorous attacking
of difficulties; utmost delicacy of sentiment and  feeling;
wonderful staccato; remarkable finish in trills, with an intonation as nearly perfect as the human ear will allow.   When to
these are added a comprehensive mind, with a warm musical
soul vibrating to its work, we have an artist who may  be
nearly called a phenomenon in the womanly form of Camilla
Urso.
Signed by the whole orchestra, namely, Carl Zerrahn,
IVilliam Schultze, William Wieser, Stephen A. Emery, Carl
{Ieisel, Otto Dresel, Thomas Ryan, Wulf C. J. Fries, B. J.
Lang, Ernst Perablo," etc.
The outside world of mere lovers of music sometimes give
their opinions of Camilla's playing in remarks equally earnest,
though hardly scientific.   One auditor, after listening to her
in wide-nmouthed amazement, declared with a most emphatic
gesture, that she was " woman enough to vote."  At a concert
in Chicago, an admirer, who was asked whether there had
been any flowers on the stage that night, answered, "None
but Camelia Urso." 
CAMILLA URSO.
In the spring of 1865, soon after her return from Europe,
Madame Urso played at a concert in New Haven.  The hall
was crowded with a noisy audience, composed mainly of
students, irrepressible and critical, and young ladies who
were deeply occupied with them and their criticisms. The
unhappy pianist of the occasion met with hearty contempt.
The talking went on as gayly as ever.   But when the violin ist entered, with her simple, natural manner, and stood quietly
a moment waiting the house was hushed.  First she played
a brilliant Fantaisie of Vieuxtemps, displaying all her skill
in the execution of musical difficulties.  Every one followed
her with the most eager attention., At the end came hearty
applause, and an imperative recall.  "The Last Rose of
Summer" was her answer to the waiting crowd.  Tenderly,
wearily, the notes of the familiar air breathed to us of regret
far beyond the sentimental lament of Moore's song. Not a
movement disturbed the flow of the melody.  The quiet of
sadness seemed to hold the listeners. The music ceased, she
bowed once more, but the audience would not permit a withdrawal.  She seemed unwilling, at first, to respond to this
encore, - this tribute often more tiresome than flattering.
But, after a minute's indecision, the violin went up to her
shoulder again, and( the very genius of fun seemed to possess
it.  She played "Yankee Doodle," but the spirit of the monotolnous old tune was surely transmigrated into a robl)in, drunk
with the intoxicatil'g air of some June morning.  It way
surely a bird who took up the quaint refrain, and repeated it
agaili and again with mocking variations in frolicsome aban
donment.  The audience, a few minutes ago half ready to
weep, laulghedl and applauded by turns, in full sympathy with
the versatile artist. Players often execute tricks with the
strings that are laughter-provoking, mere  legerdemain, as
meretricious as it is inartistic, but seldom has such an airy
spirit of humor expressed itself through the violin.
563 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
A  little story found its way into the "Musical Gazette"
recently, which is so characteristic that it ought to be quoted
entire.
Ole Bull, Camilla Urso, and Miss Alida Topp met at a
party, a few evenings since.
You play beautifiully, my child," said the Norwegian to
Miss Topp, "but you can't do the greatest music.  No woman
can; it takes the biceps of a man."
"My arm is strong enough," answered the brilliant young
pianist, laughing; "I break my pianos as well as a man could,
and Steinway has to send me a new one every week."
"You see," responded Ole Bull, turning to Madame Urso,
"you see how these people treat their pianos..  They bang
them, they beat them, they kick them, they smash them to
pieces; but our fiddles! how we love them!"
" Oh, yes, indeed," was Camilla's earnest answer, with a
flash of her most expressive eyes.
Hier fiddles are three, her favorite one being a Gtiisepl)pe
Guamnarius, made in 1737.  For this she has a standing offer
of $2000 in gold.  An Amati is also in her little collection,
and the prize violin of the Exposition of 1867, made by C.
A. Miremont, which was sent her at the close of the Expositionl. Hler bow was made in 1812.
The grave, and frequently sad expression of Madame
Urso's face, during her performances, has given rise to many
anecdotes of her life which are absurdly untrue.
All who love the charming,artist will be glad to know that
family sufferings do not add to the pathos of her "Eleg,ies," and
that beatings are not reserved for the patient mistress of the
bow.
Those who have the pleasure of her acquaintance know that
a more genial, sunny enthusiast does not exist than the supposed victim of marital cruelty.  Simple in her tastes, singleminded in her devotion to her art, she denies herself society,
564 
CAMILLA URSO.
and lives for her violin and her few cherished friends. She
is no idler, satisfied with the attainments of the past, but
steadily works her way to new laurels.  Seven and  eight
hours a day is her usual time of practice, and in the long
summer days, when other artists seek change or diversion,
she finds her recreation in her beloved instrumelnt.
On being asked whether she composed for her violin, she
answered, "Yes, some little pieces, -the Mother's Prayer,
the Dream,-  but they are nothing.  It is enough for me to
render the works of the great masters."
In her childlike devotion to the genius of Beethoven,
Chopin, and Mendelssohn, she reminds one of Hilda, the girlartist of Hawthorne's " Marble Faun," whose life was spent ill
study of Raphael and Michael Angelo. It is better, thinks
this earnest woman, to render vocal the great conceptions of
the past, than to win a cheap reputation by fleeting musical
mediocrities.
IHer remarkable memory retains all the music she plays,
the orchestral parts as well as her own.
Madame Urso's stay in this country is now uncertain.  Her
latest performances have been in the New England cities, and
in New York.  She has accepted an engagement in California, and will probably leave for San Francisco in July.
Her ardent desire is to return to Paris, and make that city her
home.  If she leaves us, it will be with the possibility of
coming, again to America, at some time in the distant future.
She will take with her a thousand good wishes, and leave
blhind her memories of delight.
565 
566    EMINENT WOMEN OF TEE AGE.
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
BY REV. R. B. THURSTON.
-0on
THs number of women who have acquired celebrity
in the art of painting is large; but half a score would probably include all the names of those who have achieved greatness in sculpture.   Without raising the question whether
women are intellectually the equals of men, or the other
question, which some affirm and some deny, whether there is
Ccsex of the soul," they differ; and there are manifest reasons
of the hand, the eye, and the taste, for which it should be
anticipated that they would generally neglect the one department of esthetic pursuits, and cultivate the other with distinguished success.  The palette, the pencil, and colors fall
naturally to their hands; but mallets and chisels are weighty
and painfuil implements, and masses of wet clay, blocks of
marble, and castings of bronze are rude and illtractable materials for feminine labors. Sculpture has special hindrances
for woman, -though not for any lack of power in her conception and invention, yet in the manual difficulties of the art
itself.  But genius and earnestness overcome all obstacles,
and supply untiring strength; and the world give honorable
recognition to those women who have, with a spirit of vigor
and heroism, challenged a place by the side of their brothers
as statuaries, and have with real success brought out the form
of beauty and the expression of life and passion which sleep
in the shapeless and silent stone. 
~ mA
F~~~F~ ~~~~~  
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
One of the most remarkable examples is found in the
subject of the following, sketch.  The materials from which
it is composed are derived from much correspondence, for
which we are under special obligations to Wayman Crow,
Esq., of St. Louis, the early friend of the artist, and to Dr.
Alfied Hosmier, her kinsmall, now of Watertown, Mass.;
from notices and descriptions of her works in various periodicals, and from narratives published several years ago by Mrs.
L. Maria Child, in a Western magazine, and Mrs. Ellet,
ill her volume of the "Artist Women of all Ages and Countries." The latter gives a consistent portraiture of Miss Hosmer, but has been led into inaccuracies in regard to several
of the alleged facts.  The notice of Tuckerm-an, in his book
of " American Artist Life," is quite too meagre to be just and
vualual)e.  Mrs. Child, who was a family friend, and at one
time nearest neighbl)or of Dr. Hosmer, and who wrote in his
house, furnished a very pleasing and reliable sketch.  Great
care has been taken to preserve in these pages  everything
which is valuable, and to exclude whatever is not authentic.
Harriet G. Ilosmer was born in Watertown, Mass., October 9, 1830.  Undoubtedly she was endowed with rare
genius by nature; and the incidents of her early life evidently
conduced much to its development in her chosen pursuit, and
to the bold and unique traits of character for which she is
distinguished.
Her father was an eminent physician, whose wife and elder
daughter died of consumption while she was yet a child,leaving,
her the only domestic solace of his afflictions, and hope of his
heart. She inherited a delicate constitution, and, as if he saw
the same spectral hand which had desolated his home reaching out fo)r her, he made the preservation of her health the
first consideration in his system of juvenile training.  It was
a maxim with him,' There is a whole lifetime for the education of the mind; but the body develops in a few years,
567 
568    EMINENT WOMEN OF TlIE AGE.
and, during that time, nothing should be allowed to interfere
with its free and healthy growth."
In her early childhood Harriet was much abroad; usually
accompanied by a little dog, which she tricked out with gay
ribbons and small, tinkling bells; while her fearless ways and
brilght, pleasant features often drew the attention of stra.ngers.
Dr. IHosmer's house stood near the bank of the Charles River,
and her youth was inured to skating, rowing,, and swiimmiing,
as well as archery, shooting, and riding.  Horse, boat, and
weapons were supplied, and diligently she improved them.
She became remarkable for dashing boldness, skill, and grace.
She could tramp with a hunter, manage her steed like an
Arabian, rival the most fearless in the chase, and the best
marksmen with gun and pistol, and astonish and alarm her
friends by her feats upon and in the water, as agile and varied
as those of a sea-nymph.
Machinery very early excited her interest.  Her questions
elicited information, ard her ingenuity appeared in little contrivances for her own amusement.  A clay-pit near home afforded
materials, and there she spent many hours in modelling
horses, dogs, and other objects which attracted her attention.
The fruits of her tastes and her prowess gradually found
their place in the house. Her own room became a cabinet
of natural history, and the curious works of her youthful
genius. Game, furred and feathered, which her gun had
brought down, dissected and stuffed by her own hands, butterflies and beetles in glass cases, and reptiles preserved in
spirits covered the walls.  An inkstand was made of a seagull's eg, and the body of a kingfisher.  Among her trophies
a crow's nest, which she climbed a lofty tree to obtain during
her school-days at Lenox, rested, after she had gained fam.,
in Italy, on the stand which she had made for it.
While she was thus securing physical health and power of
endurance, her mind was growing as well; but not without 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
certain incidental disadvantages from the free, wild, and even
rude manner of its development. Books did not suit her
active temperament and her taste for concrete things.  Of
education and culture iunthe sense of the schools, during the
years of childhood, she had little. In this respect she resemI)les Rosa Bonheur, who found her early education chiefly in
the lessons of nature learned out of doors. HIer sports and
the prophetic labors of the clay-pit beguiled many of the
hours of study; and, very niaturally, throtugh her unrestrained
liberty and occupations usually regarded as suitable only for
boys, she acquired much of the character and manners of a
brave, roguish boy. She was an illtractable pupil, and if the
report is correct was "expelled from one school, and given
over as incorrigible at another." Nevertheless it is said,
Those who knew her well loved her dearly," and defended
her from criticism with the testimony, "There is never any
immodesty ill her fearlessness, nor any malice in her fun."
Yet at this period she was a mystery to her friends. There
is good testimony at hand that "her own father confessed
again and again his ignorance" of her.
It is little matter, so long as there is no moral damage,
when outrage is done to mere conventionalities; and great
gain to health, enjoyment, enterprise, and genius may well
raise inquiry whether a public sentiment in regard to the educationl of girls has not prevailed quite too much to the
effect that they should be
"Ground down enough
To flatten and bake into a wholesome crust
For household uses and proprieties."
Anecdotes abound in illustration of Miss Hosmer's untamed firolicsomeness and disposition to practical jokes. In
one of those moods of unlicensed humor she caused to be
published ip the Boston papers a notice of the death of an
569 
570    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
aged and retired physician then residing in her native village.
His friends, moved by the intelligence, came from the city to
make inquiries concerning the sudden event, and to offer their
condolence. 
This incident led to the first important transition in her
life; for it convinced her father that some new measures were
essential ill her education; and, after careful inquiry, ill her
sixteenth year, Miss Hosmer was placed in the celebrated
school of Mrs. Sedgwick, in Lenox, Berkshire County, Massachusetts.   Dr. Hosmer frankly informed Mrs.  Sedgwick
of his dlaughter's history and peculiar traits, and that teachers
had found her difficult to manage.  The pupil was received
with the remark, "I have a reputation for triaining wild colts,
and I will try this one."
With the old anxiety, and in accordance with his fixed
principle of secuiring the physical development first, and the
mental afterwards, Dr. IIosmer had stipulated that her athletic exercises should be continued.   They  were, indeed,
included in the training of the school; but in all the feats of
streingth, courage, and agility, Harriet was the wonder of her
companions.
Mrs. Fainny IKemble was accustomed to spend summers at
Lenox, and was an intimate friend of the Sedgwicks. Surprising anecdotes are related by eye-witnesses of her strength
and her equestrian feats.  Miss Hosmer enjoyed opportunlities of hearing her reading and conversation, and received
from her friendly encouragement in her art-career, which was
afterwa.rds gratefully acknowledged.   Her passion for scuilpture found exercise in making plaster casts of the hands of
her mates.  Her room was decorated, as before at home, with
the trophies of the hunt and the spoils of the woods.
She remained three years under the judicious care of Mrs.
Sedgwick, forming permanent firiendships in the school, be
coming acquainted with many persons of eminence, moulded 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
by society of the first order, and inspired by the romanatic
mountain scenery, -a combination of influences of nature
and of life. which, in her father's judgment, were highly conducive to the success she so early attained.  When  in her
nineteenth year she returned to Watertown, much improved
by the wise direction given to her energi,s, her eatrly predilections ripened into a purpose to make sculpture her pursuit.
She had a thoug,ht,- she must make it a thiin,g.
Having this end in view, she entered the studio of Mr.
Steplhenson, ill Boston, for lessons in drawing and mnodelling,
frequently walking the distance firom home and back of fourteen miles, besides performing her Aesthetic tasks. Under his
instruction she completed a beautiful portrait-bust of a child,
and a spirited head of Byron in wax.
To perfect herself in anatomy, so essential to the sculptor,
MIiss Hosmer desired, in addition to all she could learn from
bookls and her father, the knowledge which can be ol)tained
only in the dissecting-room.  The Boston Medical School had
refused a request for the admission of a woman, but the Mledical Colleg,e of St. Louis  afforded the required facilities.
Prof. McDowell gave her efficient aid, and sometimes private
lectures, when she was present while he prepared for his publie demonstrations.   She acklnowledgced her obligatious to
him " with great affection and gratitude, as being a most thorough and patient teacher, as well as at all times a good, kind
friend; " and afterwards confirmed her words by presenting
to him a medallion likeness, cut in marble fiom a bust by
Clevenger.  She received a diploma for her attainments.
Friendship added charms to the pursuit of science in St.
Louis.  At Lenox she had formed an affectionate intimacy
with a school-mate, the daughter of Mr. Waymnan Crow, an
eminent citizen of that city.   An invitation to visit there
had incidentally opened way to the scientific privileges she
571 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sou,ght; while in his family she found her residence, and in
him, she says, " the best friend I ever had."'
In that Western city, as aforetime, Miss HIosmer set at
defiance the conventional rules which ordinarily govern, and
perhaps too much afflict, young women, both by entering the
classes f )r instruction, and by her transits by day or evening
from the dwelling to the college, as well as by her customary
exercises.  The tongutie of animadversion could not, perhaps,
be entirely silent, even though, in that new region, with its
fresh social freedom, she milght be less exposed to censure
than in the older and more  staid New  England; but it is
asserted to the credit of the members of the college that she
suffered no annoyance from them.  Some may believe that a
knowledge of her prowess in the use of deadly weapons was
her security,- for it would be little honor to fall by a woman's shot,- and others may hold that blamelessness without
affectation, integrity, and earnestness of character in a high
pursuit are their own best protection, - safer than any rules
of a suspicious and prudish propriety.  She justified herself
to her friends, gained their hearts by her vivacious and genial
qualities in the domestic circle, and preserved unsullied honor.
Before her final departure firom St. Louis for her native
place, she resolved to see as much of the West as possible.
It was the dry and warm season of the year, and the navigation of the Father of waters was uncertain and difficult. She
embarked for New Orleans; spent several days in that city,
making herself acquainted with its objects of interest, sleeping on board of the steamer, and returned, attended all the
way by her usual good fortune.  Without stopping so long as
to g,reet her friends, she ascended the river to the Falls of St.
Anthony, on a challenge from the captain of the boa.t, scaling a lofty cliff, which had been regarded as inaccessible, with
the courage and agility of an Alpine hunter, and which according to his promise,  received the name of  Hosmer's
572 
HAR2iET G. HOSMER.
Height; visited the Dacotah Indians, smoking the pipe of
peace with the chief, which was afterwards preserved in " the
old house at home; " and explored the lead mines at Dubuque,
narrowly escaping a fatal accident there, which would have
left her friends in ignorance of her fate; for they did not
know where the spirit of adventure had led her; and her
arrival at St. Louis again was the relief of their anxiety.
These happy months over, she returned to her father's house
and her art. Ever ready to indulge and facilitate her purpose, Dr. Hosmer fitted lup a small studio for her convenience in his garden, which she called facetiously her shop.
There she wrought out various contrivances of mechanical
ingenuity, and produced her first work in marble, - a reduced
copy of Canova's bust of Napoleon, for her father. The labor
was performed by her own hands, that she might be practically familiar with every part of the process. The likeness
and workmanship are both good.
Soon afterwards she commenced Hesper, - her first original
and ideal work. Mrs. Child, who saw it in the garden studio
in the summer of 1852, by Dr. Hosmer's invitation, gives the
following account of its execution and description, which
were published in the "New York Tribune," under the caption, " A New Star in the Arts:"
" She did every stroke of the work with her own small hands,
except knocking off the corners of the block of marble.  She
employed a man to do that; but as he was unused to work for
sculptors, she did not venture to have him approach within
several inches of the surface she intended to cut.  Slight girl as
she was, she wielded for eight or ten hours a day, a leaden mallet
weighin,g four pounds and ahalf. Had itnotbeenforthestrength
and flexibility of muscle acquired by rowing and other athletic
exercises, such arduous labor would have been impossible.
I expected to see skilful workmanship; but I was not
573 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
prepared for such a poetic conception. This beautiful production of Miss Ilostuer's hand and soul has the face of
a lovely maiden, gently falling asleep to the sound of disc
rant music.  Her hair is gracefully arranged, and intertwined
with capsules of the poppy. A polished star gleams on
her forehead, and under her breast lies the crescent moon.
The hush of evening breathes from the serene countenance
and the heavily drooping eyelids. I felt tranquillized while
looking at it, as I do when the rosy clouds are fading into
gray twilight, and the pale moon-sickle desands slowly behind the dim woods. The mechanical execution of this bust
seemed to me worthy of its lovely and lifelike expression.
The swell of cheek and breast is like pure, young, healthy
flesh; and the muscles of the beautiful mouth are so delicately
cut, that it seems like a thing that breathes."
Hesper was presented by the artist to her friend, Miss
Coolidge, of Boston.
When it was completed she said to her father, "Now I am
ready to go to Rome." Rome is the Mecca of artists. The
tomb of the prophet is not more attractive to devout IMussulmen than its esthetic treasures to all the children of genius.
They flow thither from every cultivated nation, for the study
of the noblest models, the inheritance of ancient and modern
ages, for the sympathy and encouragement of companions in
aspirations and toils, for the exhilaration and joy of artistic
fellowship, -perhaps, also, for the indispensable end of more
favorable opportunities for making known their works and
of obtaining remuneration for their life-labors;  and they
often encounter as well the trials which spring from our poor
nature, and allow no paradise on earth, -the envy, jealousy,
bitter criticism, and aspersion of partakers and competitors in
the same pursuits and the same glories.
About this time Miss HIosmer formed acquaintance with
574 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
Miss Charlotte Cushman, who recognized her ability, and kindled her desire to study at Rome to a flame.  It was arranged
that her father, whose affection and devotion to his daughter
seemed to equal her energy and enthusiasm, should accompany
her there, and leave her, returning himself to his profession.
She rode oni horseback to Wayland to bid farewell to her
friend, Mrs. Child, and said, in reply to the questions, " Shall
you never be homesick for your museum parlor in Watertown? Can you be contented in a foreign land?" "I can be
happy anywhere with good health and a bit of marble."
Lingering, only a week in England, in her eager haste, she
arrived at " the Eternal City" November 12, 1852. John
Gibson, the most renowned of English sculptors of this
century, was then in the zenith of his fame.  It was the
young artist's strong desire to become his pupil, -a desire
clouded with much apprehension, because it had been intimated that want of persistency in overcoming difficulties on
the part of ladies had brought disappointment upon instructors; and the success of her application was extremely doubtfutl.  But two days after the arrival a friendly sculptor laid
before him, as he sat at breakfast at the C(fe6 Greco, two
daguerreotypes, the one presenting a front, the other a profile view of Hesper, and stated briefly Miss Hosmer's history
and desire.  Mr. Gibson contemplated them silently for a few
moments and then said, "Send the young ladly to me,whatever I can teach her, she shall learn." The "London Art
Journal" asserts that she was received by Mr. Gibson, " not as
a professed pupil, but as the artist friend of our countryman."  Mrs. Ellet writes, "Ere long a truly paternal  and
filial affection sprung up between the. master and the pupil, a
source of great happiness to themselves, and of pleasure and
amusement to-all who know and value them, from the curious
likeness, yet unlikeness, which existed from the first inl Miss
Hosmer to Mr. Gibson, and whvich daily intercourse has not
1) ir-5 - - 
576    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
tended to lessen." She expressed her joy in the nQw relation
in a letter. " The dearest wish of my heart is gratified in
that I am acknowledged by Gibson as a pupil.  He has been
resident in Rome thirty-four years, and leads the van.  I am
greatly in luck. He has just finished the model of the statue
of the queen; and, as his room is vacant, he permits me to
use it, and I am now ill his own studio. I have also a little
room for work which was formerly occupied by Canova, and
perhaps inspiration may be drawn from the walls."
The approach to the apartment she occupied was from the
Via Fontanella through a large room  containing nunmerou3
productions of Mr. Gibson's genius, a garden filled with
orange and lemon trees and various flowers, a fountain trickling in a shady recess, then the master's studio, and from
this by a flight of stairs within a curtain, - nature, imag,ination, and labor, all at one. She remained seven years in the
studio of her teacher and friend.
The first winter in Rome was spent in modelling from the
antique. The Venus of Milo, the Cupid of Praxiteles, and
Tasso of the British Museum, were copied, in which the
pupil proved the correctness of her eye, the soundness of her
knowledge, and power of imitating the roundness and softness of flesh, which Mr. Gibson on one occasion stated he
had never seen surpassed and rarely equalled. Her faculty
of original conception had been evinced before in Hesper.
Her first design was the bust of Daphne, the beautiful
maiden changed into a laurel when fleeing from Apollo, after
the god had slain her lover, beseeching the earth to swallow
her up. It is now in the possession of her liberal patron and
friend of St. Louis, W. Crow.
It was speedily followed by the Medusa, represented as
she was before she was transformed into a gorgon.  The hair,
retreating in waves from the forehead, changes into serpenls.
It is described as a  lovely thing, faultless in form, and in 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
tense in its expression of horror and agony, without trenching
on the physically painftil."  It is owned by Mrs. Appleton, of
Boston.
"These busts," wrote Mr. Gibson, "do her great honor."
They were publicly exhibited in Boston in 1853.  The next
year Mir. Gibson wrote to Dr. Hosmer, to give him assurance of his daughter's unabated industry and success in her
profession, relating also the favorable judgment of the Prussiian Ratich, then very aged and one of the greatest of living
sculptors.                                       ~
In the summer of 1855 Miss Ilosmer completed CEnone,
her first full-length figure in marble. CEnone was a nymph
of mount Ida, who became the wife of Paris, the beautiful
shepherd, to whom Venus had promised the fairest woman in
the world. The statue represents her as a shepherdess, bending with grief for her husband's desertion. Her crook lies on
the ground.  It was sent to Mr. Crow, who had given her,
at her departure from America, an order for her first statue,
to be filled in her own time by a subject of her own selection.  It is a very beautiful production, and afforded such
satisfaction that she was commissioned to execute another,
on the same terms, for the Mercantile Library of St. Louis.
This order was answered after two years by the life-size
statue of Beatrice Cenci, sleeping in her cell, after having
been subjected to extreme torture, the morning before her
execution.
Her father, a monster who deserved double death, but had
escaped public justice by his wealth, had been assassinated.
The daughter was accused of parricide, and, though guiltless,
condemned.  The marble expresses the sleep of innocence.
This was a very fine work.  It was exhibited in London, and
several American cities, where it received high encomitims.
A beautiful engraving of it was published in the "London Art
Journal" with honorable criticism.  Mr. Gibson is said to
37
577 
EMINENT WOMEN.OF THE AGE.
have remarked, on viewing it completed, "I can teach her
nothing."   It was a gift to the library, of  an unknown
friend to the artist.
The insalubrity of the Campagna, the level country surrounding Rome, is well known. Southward is the region
of the Pontine marshes, of ancient malarious fame, on
which  consuls, emperors, and popes have made vast expenditures, without subduing the malignity of nature. The pestilential air still spreads pallor over the features of the poor
people w ho lre compelled to live there, and even invades the
city. It was the wish of Dr. Iosmer that his daughter should
take       refuge in some healthy place during the sickly season,
and the first summer was passed at Sorrento, on the bay of
Naples.   The next year her zeal prevailed against all consid
erations  of prudence; she would not leave the shadow of St.
Peter's and the art treasures in the midst of which she
wrought.       The third summer, 1855, came, and she prepared
for a journey to England. But the course of true art, like
that of love, does not always run smoothly. The resources
of D     r. Hosmer were not inexhaustible; the expenses of the
artist's residence and pursuits in Rome were large; financial
embarrassments were encountered; and retrenchment was
urge      d with emphasis from home.  In these circumstances she
remained to prosecute her.labors with the aim to produce
some work of such attractive character as should secure im.
mediate returns. The result was Puck, described by Shakes
speare's fairy: -
"Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Good-fellow; are you not he
That fright the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk; and sometimes labor in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometimes make the drink to bear no harm;
Mislead night-wanderers laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work; and they shall have good luck."
578 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
It is about the size of a child four years of age, seated on a
toadstool which splits beneath its weilght. The lips are poutimg,; a muscle-shell cleaves to the fo)rehead at the parting of
the hair; the left hand rests, confining under it a lizard; the
ri,ght hand holds a beetle, and is raised inl the act of throwing; the legs are crossed, and the great toe of the right foot
turns pertly up; -the whole composing a figure of so much
drollery and fun, that those who have seen it, when describimg it, are wont to break into a gleeful laugh.  Tlfis unique
impersonation of humor in marble, conceived, perhaps like
some gems of humorous poetry and romance in the hour of
adversity, has been very popular.  Twenty-five or thirty
copies havae been made.  One is in the collection of the
Prince of Wales.
Puck was followed by a companion figure named Will-o'the-Wisp.
At this time was'resident in Rome Madame Falconnet, an
English lady, whose daughter, a lovely girl of sixteen years,
had recently died.  Being, a Catholic, she was permitted to
erect a mortuary monument in the church of San Andrea del
Fratte.  The design was entrusted to Miss Hosmer.  It was
modelled in clay in the winter of 1857, and executed in marble a year later. It is a portrait statue of the daughter, the
figure of a beautiful maiden, resting upon a sarcophagus, in
the sleep that has no waking.  In this production the still
repose of death is finely contrasted with the breathing slumber of life, which even the stone expresses in Beatrice Cenci.
Mr. Layard, distinguished for his explorations in Ninevel,
thus speaks of it in a letter addressed to Madame Falconnet:
"I think you may rest fully satisfied with Miss Hosmer's
success. It exceeds any expectations I had formed. The
unaffected  simplicity and  tender feeling  displayed in the
treatment is all that could be desired for such a subject, and
cannot fail to';ouch the most casual observer. I scarcely
579 
580    EMINENT WOIEN OF THE AGE.
remember ever to have seen a monument which inm(tre com.
pletely commanded my sympathly and more deeply interested
me.  I really know of none, of modern days, which I would
rather have placed over the remains of one who had been
dear to me.  Do not believe this is exaggerated praise.  I
faithfully convey to you the impression made onl me.  I attribute this impression, not more to the artistic merit of the
work than to the complete absence of all affectation, to the
simple truthfulness and genuine feeling of the monument
itself."  Mr. Gibson concurred in this commen dation.
This was the first instance of the work of a foreign sculptor finding, a permanent place in Rome.  It was a tribute of
the high appreciation in which the artist was then held and
was regarded as a great honor.
About the same period was modelled the fountain of Hylas
Iln mythological story, Ilylas, the adopted son of Hercules,
when the Argonautic expedition stopped at Mysia, went to a
well for water.  The naiads of the fountain, enraptured with
his beauty, drew him in, and he was drowned.
The design of the sculptor consists of a basin in which dolphilis are spouting jets, and an uipper balsin supported by
swans; from this rises a pyramid, on which the fair boy
stands, while the nymphs reach up their hands to draw him
into the waters at his feet.  The conception is classically just
and highly poetical.
Before the two works last described  were  executed in
marble, in the summer of 1857, Miss  Ilosmer returned to
America, -five years from her departure. She had become
a daughter of fame, but was still a child of nature. IHer vivacity remained; she was modest and unpretentious in her
enthusiasm; and her aspirations were kindled for yet hig,her
achievements in the realms of art.
During this visit her mind was much occupied with the
design of a statue of Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra,  as sho 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
appeared when led in chains in the triumphal procession of
Aurelian.  She searched libraries and read everything that
could be found relating to that illustrious and unfortunate
sovereign.  Subsequently she labored upon it wvith so much
assiduity and anxiety that her health was impaired, and she
was ordered into Switzerland by her physician to save her life.
The statue is of colossal size, seven feet in heilght, a very
noble figure, the commanding effect of which grows upon the
mind,-a triumniph of patient study, of genitus, and of nmechanical skill.  Zenobia is represented walking.   ihc movement
has blended lilghtness, vigor, and grace.  The left arm supports  the  drapery,  which is elaborately cut;  thle rilght,
without a purpose, for it can neither bless her people nor
inspirit her troops, descends naturally as living, muscle.  The
wrists bear the chains, -not heavy and g:tlling, -perhaps
Roman severity made them weightier.  The head, crowned,
is slightly bowed; the lips express disdain of the surrounding
pag,eant of victorious foes; the eyes, downcaLst, and the features of oriental beauty reveal a soul self-sustained and
absent, far away in memories of her magnificent empire of
the East.  She is still a queen  in spirit, undethlroned lby
calamity.
In this production Miss Hiosmer made a bold, and, on the
part of woman, an almost unexampled, adventure into the
regions of the highest historic art; and she returinel we,tring
the laurels of success.  The statue received the hiighest praiise.
Critics pronounced its vindication in the lig(lt of the nol)lest
models of Grecian atrt, and aascribed to it (legrititimate clhims
to a place in the front rank of works of sculptIure.  We well
remelnbl)er the impression it made in Bost(in, lwhere we were
scarcely more interested in the fascinating formn itself, thal in
observing the effect it produced on the minids of visitors vwhlo,
with quiet demeanor, speaking low, alppeared likle persons
coming unwontedly under the influence of a spiritual power
581 
582    EMINENT WOMEN OF TILE AGE.
which arrested their steps and excited profound emotions.
Til       e     poet       Whittier says, "It very fully expresses my coliceptioo                n of  what his torical sculpture should be.  It tells its whole
p)ro        od and  melancholy story.  The shadowy outlines of the
im      ajestic limbs, which charmed us inl the romanace of Ware
are here fixed and permanent:
' A joy forever.'
In looking, at it I felt that the artist had been as truly serving,
her country while working out her magnificent design abroad,
as our soldiers in the field, and our public officers ill their
departments."
In another sense besides what those words convey the
artist served her country.  The marble was purchased by A.
W. Griswold, Esq., of New York,  and is now in his possession.  By his generous consent after the time agreed tipon
for its delivery, it was exhibited for the benetit of the soldiers in the fiamous Sanitary Fair at Chlicago; and there the
stately queen, who for her grasp at power trod the dust of
captivity in chains sixteen centuries ago, ministered relief to
the sufferers of the war for the republic and liberty.  It is an
instance of the reproach, fiom  which human nature is not
always exempt, even in a good cause, that a part of the proceeds on that occasion was retained by the exhibitors.
Very few productiols of the modern chisel have excited so
much remark as Zenobia.  There is an almost romantic story
connected with its exhibition in London.  The critics reco,gnized its merits, but denied that such a statue ever was the
work of a woman, charging Miss Hosnier wvitli artistic plag,iaristm, andcl ascribing the real authorship to Mr. Gibson, or an
Italian sculptor.  An article makiig suchl assertions appeared
in the "London Art Journal" and  The Queen. "  For this
MIiss Ilosmer commenced a suit for libel; but soon after, the
author of the libellous communication died; the suit was withdrawna on the condition that thle editors should publish a 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
retraction in those periodicals, and, also, in the "London
Times" and "Galignani's Messenger," which was done.  The
retraction of the editor in the "Art Journal" was prefaced by
a vigorous letter from the artist, in which the assertion occurs
that Mr. Gil)son would not allow any statue to go out of his
studio, as the work of another, on which more assistance had
been bestowed than was considered legitimate by every
sculptor.
A  large price was offered for Zenobia by the Prince of
Wales; but the author said, "It must go to Amuerica."  She
received five thousand dollars fiom the proceeds, besides all
expenses, of its exhibition for her benefit.
In the year 1860 Miss Hosmer revisited her native town,
called there by the serious illness of her father. While tarr     yin                    g once more at  hom e  she received a commission to design
a                  bronze portrait statue of Col. Thomas Hart Benton, the
dist       ing,uisehed senator an d  most eminent citizen of Missouri.
HIer                former residence i n St. Louis was remembered;  and a
degree               of local pride  wa s  mingled with admiration for her
success. I1er frie                  nds knew her ability to express in marble
beauty,  tenderness,                grace, and diignity; but thus far her works
had                 been chiefly i  n the range of feminine characters.  Could
s     h     e       depart frofo  this sphere of art, and with equal skill set
f ort h the strong, ru       gged, massive qualities of the famous
statesmasman, and thus create for herself a reputation which
n    e    e    d not bow before all y  difficulties, nor shrink from all enterprise requiring, the most masculine capacity? The coinmmissioners to the fullest extent trusted in the breadth and
p owe r    of her genius. W    e  append her reply to their commu    nication, because it wa  s  so pertinent and characteristic of
herself:
" WATERTOWN, Junte 22, 1860.
" GENiTLEMEN: - I have had the honor to receive your letter
583 
b
584    EMINENT WOMEN OF TIIE AGE.
of the 15th ijust., informingi me that the execution of the bronze
statue, in memory of the late Col. Benton, for the city of
St. Louis, is entrusted to me.'  Such a tribute to his merit
would delmand the best ackuowledgmenat of any artist; but
in the'present instance my most cordial thanks will but in sufficiently convey to you a sense of the obligation under
which I feel you have placed me.
"I have reason to be grateful to you for this distinction, because I am  a young artist; and, thoug,h I may have given
some  evidence of skill in those of my statues which are now
in your city, I could scarcely have hoped that their merit,
whatever it may be, should have inspired the citizens of St.
Louis to entrust me with a work whose chief characteristic
must be the union of great intellectual power with manaly
strength.
"But I have, also, reason to be grateful to you because Iamn
a wom:an; and, knowing whltt barriers must  iii the outset
oppose all womanly efforts, I am indebted to'tlhe chivalry of
thle West, which has first overleaped them.   I am not unmindfuLl of the kicnd indulgence with which my works have
been received; but I have sometimes tlhoughlt that the critics
mighi t be more courteous than just, remtnembering from what
hand they proceeded; but your kindness will now afford me
an ample opportunity of proving to what rank I am really
entitled as an artist unsheltercd by the broad wings of compassion for the sex; for this work must be, as we understand
the term, a mna)ly work;  and lience its merit alone must be
my defence agaiust the attacks of those who  stand ready to
resist any encroachment upon their self-appropriated sphere.
"I utter these sentiments only to assure you that I am fillly
aware of the important results which to me as an artist wait
on the issue of my labors, and hence, that I shall spare no pains
to produce a monument worthy of your city, and worthy of
the statesman who, though dead, still speaks to you in lan. 
IIARRIET G. HOSMER.
guage more eloquent and endurilng than the happiest efforts
in marble and bronze of ever so cunning a workman.
"It only remains for me to add that as I shall visit St. Louis
before my departure to Europe, further details may be then
arranged.  I have the honor to remain, gentlemen,
Respectfully yours,
t H. G. HOSMER."
In accordance with her purpose, Miss Hosmer visited St.
Louis, Jefferson City, and other places, examining portraits
and mementos of Col. Benton to supply herself with materials for the work.  The next year she submitted photographs
of her mnodel to the commissioners and to his relatives, by
whom they were unanimously approved. The plaster cast
was sent from Rome to Munich to be cast at the royal foundry, the most celebrated in the world.  In due time the statue arrived at the city of its destination;  but partly on
account of the war, more especially on account of hesitation
in regard to the site, it remained three years or more boxed
as it came fiom Europe. The location was at last fixed in
Lafityette Park;  and on the 27th day of May, 1868, the
inaugturation of the statue took place with imposing religious and patriotic ceremonies, in presence of a vast concourse
of citizens and strangers.
By an appropriate selection Mrs. Fremont, the daughter of
Col. Benton, unveiled the features of her father in bronze to
the eyes of the multitude.  The figure is ten feet in height,
and weighs three and a half tons.  A foundation was laid
for it forty feet square, which rises two feet above the ground.
On that rests a pedestal of New  England granite ten feet
square, so that the entire elevation is twenty-two feet.  The
upper drapery is a cloak of the kind which Col. Benton was
fond of wearing.  The hands appear unrolling a map.  Jol'u
585 
586    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Gibson expressed his opinion in a letter to the commissiolln
ers in the following terms: -
The general effect of the figure is grand and simple. The
ample cloak, which covers considerably the odious modern
dress, is rich and broad, and the folds are managed with great
skill, producing, graceful lines.  The head, a fine subject, is
reflective and well modelled; also the position of the hands
holding the paper, or plan, is very natural and well composed.
In fact, I consider the work does the authoress grea-t honor;
and I feel it will give satisfaction to the gentlemen of the
committee who had the penetration to entrust the execution
of such a work to their countrywoman;  and I may aifdd, that
the Americans may now boast of possessing what no nation
in Europe possesses,- a public statue by a woman, - a little
woman, - young,, with great talent and love of her art."
A  letter of W. Crow, written the day after the inauguration, states that the general expression of the thousands
who saw it was favorable. Critics pronounced it a success as
a work of art.  Friends of Col. Benton declared it to be a
good likeness. His relatives were more than gratified, -they
were delighted.
On the east side of the pedestal, the name BENTON is
deeply cut.      On the west side, the words:
" THERE IS THE EAST THERE IS INDIA."
This moeto was selected by the artist with excellent judgment.  It associates this memorial of a great man with no
transient political questions, but with a vast enterprise of
national utility and honor, a triumphant work of civilization,
the grandeur of which will be revealed more and more in
successive ages, in regard to which the forecasting views of 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
the statesman will be held in honored remembrance, when the
party struggles of his time will be forgotten, when majestic journeys across the continent will be incidents of common
life. Our readers will be glad to see the peroration of the
speech on the Pacific Railroad which suggested the motto:
Let us complete the grand design of Columbus, by putting Europe and Asia into communication, and that to our
advantage, through the heart of our own country.  Let us
give to his ships, converted into cars, a continued course unknown to all former times.  Let us mnake the iron road- and
make it from sea to sea-...  the line which will
find on our continent the Bay of San Francisco at one end,
St. Louis in the middle, the national metropolis and great
commercial emporiums at the other, and which shall be
adorned with its crowning honor, the colossal statue of the
great Columbus, whose desigii it accomplishes, hewn from the
granite mass of a peak of the Rocky Mountains overlooking
the road,- the mountain itself the pedestal, and the statue a
part of the mountain, - pointing with outstretched arm to
the western horizon, and saying to the flying passenger,
"There is the East -there is India."
The contract price of the statue to be paid to the artist
was ten thousand dollars; the entire expense of the monument about thirty thousand dollars.
In the Dublin Exhibition of 1865, Miss Hiosmer offered to
the public the Sleeping Faun, in marble of life size, which was
sold on the day it was opened for five thousand dollars.  Sir
Charles Eastlake said, "If it had been discovered amongo the
ruins of Rome or Pompeii, it would have been pronounced one
of the best of Grecian statues." It was exhibited again in the
Universal Exposition of Paris, 1867, where, with the great
paintings of Church, Bierstadt, Huntington, and others, it
587 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
gave to thle most esthetic nations new apprelhensions of the
i)rogress and honors of American ait.,Amolog the many
pieces of marble statuary of modern artists," says the United
Sttates Commnissioner, E. C. Cowdin, Esq., "none was mnore
admired than the Sleepl)ing Faun, a figutre of antique grace
finely conceived and admirably executed."
The WVaking Faun, a companion piece, at a recent date
was only clay.  It is owned, with a second copy of thle former, b)y Lady Ashburton, of England.
Another classic and beautiful work was a fountain designed
for Lady Maria Alford.   A fignre of a woman, a siren, sits
above the centre of the basin, which holds the water, singing.
Below are three pleasing little figures, mounted on dolphins,
which lie on the broad leaves of aquatic plants, enchanted by
the music.
A writer in Rome, after describing this fountain, says, " Miss
Hosmer has a peculiar mode of tinting the marble.   I think
she must have caught the better part of Gibson's idea; for
she does Dot give it a flesh color, but a light creamy tint,
which adds greatly to the expression of the statue and seems
like the true color of old marble."  Pointing to the founttlinl
she said, "All those babies have got to be wvashed before they
go away."  This is the only reference we have obtained to her
practice in regard to coloring statuary,  -a novelty, introduced
by Gibson, which encounters much opposition on the groulnd
that it turns a statue into a doll, -  that the office of sculpture is the expression of form, and should not in color, lwhich
belongs to another art, asstitne to be the counterpart of nature.
Several  works of a varied character have been recently
completed or are still in progress.  Among them is a g.teway
for thle entrance to an art-gallery at Ashridge Hall, Englan,td,
ordered by Earl Brownlow.   It is ei,ghlt feet by sixteen, of
very elaborate design.   The  price paid to  the artist is
twenty-five thousand dollars.
588 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
L.nother is a               f tmney-piece for Lady Ashburton, illustrating the death of the Dryads.  It also is to be sixteen feet high.
The figures are of life size in alto relievo.  The cost is
twelve thousand five hundred dollars.
The Bridge of Sighs, so named, was ordered two years ago
by a literary gentleman of London.  It illustrates ill marble
hlood's popular poeIn descriptive of a drowned woman.
Ill 1860 Miss Ilosmer sent to her friend, Mr. Crow, at his
request, the dcrawiing of a monument for a cemetery.   The
cross as a symbol has been virtually surrendered to the Catholics, though Protestants may employ it with perfect right and
propriety; and we trust the use of it will return.  Like others,
Mr. Crow had felt the incongruity with Christi-an faith of the
heathen symbols,- the inverted torch, the Egyptian gateway,
the Grecian temple,- which occur so firequently in our burialplaces, and desired something new and appropriate,  which
should express a Christian's hopes.
The design consists of a marlble pedestal, of elaborate and
beautiful construction, surmounted by a group of statuary,Christ restoring to life the daug,hter of Jairus. - The prostrate
form and the countenance of the dead maiden vividly present the fact of our mortality.  The noble figure of the Saviour
is full of tenderness, but without sorrow: he is doing a work
of joy. On the entablattire of the pedestal are the inscriptions,
on the one side, I Al THiE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE: " on
the opposite side,  IIE THAT BELIEVETH IN ME, THOUGH HE
WERE DEAD, YET SHALL HE LIVE."  On the broad spaces beneath, the. family llnames are to be carved.
This design has not yet been put into marble; but it is
eminently desirable that the conception should be realized.
The subject is not hackneyed; it is sculpturesque, appropriate, alld Christian.  When adequately accomnplishled it will
be a noble testimony, not only to the artist, but also to the
friend whose Christian sentiments called for it; and the corn
589 
590    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
munity of Christians have reason for deep interest in it. The
symbols of faith should transcend the lower conceptions of
sense, sorrow, disappointment, and darkness, giving to our
cemeteries instead a characteristic expression of chastened
confidence and joyful hope.
A very few days after the death QfPresident Lincoln, a poor
colored woman of Marietta, Ohio, made free by his proclaination, proposed that a monument should be erected, by the colored people of the United States, to their dead friend; and
she handed to a citizen of that place five dollars as her contribution for the purpose. Twenty-three thousand dollars were
raised and deposited in the hands of a committee, with the request that they would take measures for the erection of a
monument in Washington.
Miss Hosmer heard of the proposed " Memorial to Freedom,"
and, prompted by her friends, designed a monument, a plaster
cast of which has been exhibited in Boston. Tile structure
consists, first, of a base sixty feet square, to which seven steps
ascend.  Four bas reliefs in bronze surround this base, representing, incidents in the life of the president, his early occupations, his career as a member of the Legislature, his inauguration at Washington, memorable events of the war, his
assassination and funeral obsequies.   On the corners of this
base are four short, round columns, on which stand four statues of the negro, finely idealized, showing him in four conditions,- sold as a slave, laboring on a plantation, a guide to
our troops, and finally a freeman and soldier.
An octagonal base rests on the lower, on four sides of which
are the inscriptions:
" ABRAHAM LINCOLN;
MARTYR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES;
EMANCIPATOR OF FOUR MILLIONS OF MEN;
PRESESVER OF THE AMERICAN UNION."
Upon this is a circular base, around which is a bas relief 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
of thirty-six female figures, hand in hand, symb,,lical of the
Union of the States. From this rises a pillared temple, within which stands the statue of the president, holding in the
left hand a broken chain, in the right the proclamation of
emancipation. Upon the cornice of the temple are inscribed
the conclutding words of that instrument: "And upon this,
sincerely believed to be an act of justice, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of
Almighty God."  Four mourning Victories standing around
the central figure with trumpets reversed express the sorrow
of the nation.
In this design, the description of which is given chiefly ill
the author's words, she endeavored to express the idea that
the Temple of Fame which we rear to the memory of Lincoln
rests upon the two great acts of his administration, -the
Emancipation of the Slave, and the Preservation of the
American Union; and with beautiful fitness the end is accomplished.  The work itself is sufficient evidence of her convictions as a pronounced and stanch friend of freedom and the
Union.  It must have been a labor of love; sloe must have
fashioned it with her heart as well as with artistic genius.
The "London Art Journal" published an engraving, and de scription, modified by presenting four female figures near the
columns of the temple bearing wreaths to the freedmen, from
which we extract the following sentences:   With the excep tion of the great monulment to Frederick the Great, at Ber lin, by Ranch, the Lincoln Monument is the grandest recog nition of the art of sculpture that has been offered to our age.
Bearing in mind that this is to be called the Freedmen's
MIonument, it was necessary that the circumstances attending
the act of emancipation should form, as they do, the principal
features of the design. It will stand a simple, comparatively
unadorned, yet most imposing, memorial of the dead, and a
591 
EMINENT WOMEN CF'kaE AGE.
lasting witness to the lady sculptor who has had the honor.a
be selected for its execution."
The committee adopted the design, "deeming it the greatest achievement of modern art," and confident that every one
who loves his country, and loves art, and honors Abrlaham
Lincoln, will aid in the completion of this great work.  It
will cost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; but this
should not prevent its erection. There are now commenced or
proposed three memorial structures, which the nation may well
hasten to complete, even in times of political and financial
difficulty,- the monuments to the Pilgrims, to Washington,
and to Lincoln.
It will be observed that Miss Hosmer has wrought on
ideal subjects.  She would have enjoyed abundant patronage
working on busts, but has preferred to give the creations of
her own imagination a solid, enduring form.  She thus makes
a higher challenge for immortal fame.
These pages convey to our readers materials for forming
their own judgment of the estimation in which she should be
held as an artist. If compared with women, she has very few
rivals.  WVe do not know whether the name of Sabina Von
Steinbach, who adorned the famous cathedral of Strasburg,
and whose sculptured groups are the objects of admiration to
this day, is more illustrious.  If compared with men, there
are many who compete for the palm; and the opinions of
critics, no doubt, will differ, at least for a period. Time is
necessary to establish the position of a genius of the highiest
rank.  We think Miss HIosmer can afford to wait, and that
she needs no indulgence of criticism on the score of her sex.
She has not gained the elevation on which she now stands,
unchallenged and unopposed. The sketch of Mrs. Child
gives a paragraph to the fact.  She herself, in the pithy and
pointed words of the letter to the "London Art Journal," before
adverted to, seems to say from her own experience: "Few
592
0 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
artists who have been in any degree successful enjoy the truly
friendly regard of their professional brothers; but a woman
artist who has been honored by frequent commissions is an
object of peculiar odium." That journal, after the impeachment which has been related, said, in connection with the
Freedmen's Monument: "Of her power to filfil the trust
reposed in her there can be no doubt; her genius is of the
highest order, and she has proved her capacity by producing
some of the greatest works in sculpture of our age." And
again: "The works of Miss Hosmer, Hiram Powers, and
others we might name, have placed American on a level with
the best modern sculptors of Europe. There are examples
from the studios of the artists we have namned specially that
have not been surpassed by any contemporary sculptor of any
nation; while there is no doubt that already the foundation
has been laid for a school of sculpture in the. Western World,
which will ennoble the people who have sprung from the same
loins as ourselves, who speak the same language, and read
our literature, and, in spite of what some say, are proud of
the old country from which they. have descended." This is
:ot the judgment of partial friends nor incompetent critics.
Miss Hosmer's diligence and enterprise have gained this
crown for her genius.  She has her days for the reception of
visitors and her seasons for recreation and athletic exercise; but
her hours of study are sacred, and she spares no effort to attain
perfection in her art. " She studies from life and from death."
She received the commission for the "Bridge of Sighs" in
Paris.  Desiring to observe for herself the peculiar effects on
the body, of death by drowning, in company with her friend,
Mr. Crow, she visited the Morgue several times, till she found
the required subject.  When working upon the Cenci she
had models go to sleep on a bench, till she had fixed the attitude of the girl sleeping in theprison. When she executed
the Medusa, the hair of which changes into serpents, she
38
593
0 
594    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
found no good casts of a snake in Rome, -her knowledge of
anatonmy teaching her that they were taken from dead, not
living specimens. She employed a herdman near the city to
procure one alive, tied it to a piece of marble inll her studio
till she was ready, then gave it chloroform and made her
cast, keeping it in the plaster three and a half hours.  The
reptile came out alive and well, was sent back by Goviona,
turned loose in its old haunt; and she had the best model of
a snake in the capital of art, of which other artists avail themselves.
Her studio in the Via Margutta is said to be itself a work
of art, and the most beautiful in Rome, if not in Italy. The
entrance is made attractive with flowers and birds. In the
centre of the first room stands the Fountain of the Siren. Each
room of the series contains some work of art, hanging, baskets,
and floral decorations.  Her own apartment, in which she
herself works, displays her early tastes in flowers and broken
relics of art, with collections of minerals, drawings, and rare
books.  A  lady writes for the use of this sketch: "She superintends her work herself, and will wield the chisel more
adroitly than any practised workman. In this she has the
advantage; for many artists can only design, and ignore the
practical working of their ideas, which, left to a mechanical
taste, often leave us an inexpressible dissatisfaction, while
admiring the conception."
In the process of sculpture, the sculptor first workls out
carefully his own ideal in a small image of clay. The rude
and mechanical labor of enlarging this image into the clay
model of full size (which often requires a frame of iron and a
blacksmith's forge), taking, the plaster cast, and finally transferring it to marble, is done by hired workmen.   "Still," in
the words of Miss Hosmer, "their position in the studio is a
subordinate one.  They translate the original thlought of the
sculptor, written in clay, into the language of marble.  The
t 
HARRIET G. HOSMER.
translator may do his work well or ill, -he may appreciate
and preserve the delicacy of sentiment and grace which were
stamped upon the clay, or he may render the artist's meaning
coarsely and unintelligibly. Then it is that the sculptor him self must reproduce his ideal in the marble, and breathe into
it that vitality which, many contend, only the artist can in spire. But, whether skilful or not, the relation of these work men to the artist is precisely the same as that of the mere
linguist to the author who, in another tongue, has given to the
world some striking fancy or original thought."
Miss Hosmer's genius is not limited to sculpture.  There
are those who believe that, had she chosen the pursuit of letters, she would have excelled as much in literature as she
does in art,- that she would have wielded the pen with as
mulch skill and power as she does the chisel of the statuary.
Evidences of this are found in her correspondence. She has
published a beautiftil poem, dedicated to Lady Maria Alford of
England, and a well-written article, in the "Atlantic Monthly,"
on the Process of Sculpture, perspicuous and philosophical in
its treatment of the subject.  In it she defends women-artists
against the impeachments of their jealous brothers.
Becoming, a resident of Rome,  Miss Hosmer preserved
many of the habits of independence and freedom of exercise
which she had formed in her native land.  The latter was an
indispensable condition of health: accordingly she rode about
the city and its environs without restraint; and after a while
people ceased to wonder.
About six years ago three persons established a pack of
hounds in Rome for the purpose of fox-hunting. Our artist,
as one of them, contributed two hundred and fifty dollars, and
procured the services of a huntsman, whom she mounted at
her own expense.  This grew into a society of Italians and
foreigners.  Americans gave their money liberally, and with
Eng,lish residents entered war/nly into the sport.  Miss Hiost
595 
596    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
mer, it is related, rode with astonishing ease and fearlessnss.
None of the English officers excelled her in leaping ditches
and fences. With her friend, Miss Cushman, she often led
the chase, returning with quite as just claims for the fox as
gentlemen could present."  By the rules of the hunt the tail
of the fox, called the brush, is given to the best and boldest
rider as a trophy; but the Italians, having a majority of the
members, maniaged everything inll their own way, and, whatever might be his feats of horsemanship, never did an American receive the coveted honor.  At length an act of injustice
done to the American consul brought to pass a serious imbroglio in the association of hunters for recreation - and a
fox.  Hitherto Miss Hosmer had borne the absence of courtesy to herself in silence; but on that occasion she withdrew
from the society, and addressed a spirited and spicy letter
to the master of the Roman hounds, which was sent to this
country for general publication, that it might be well understood with what readiness American money was received,
and with what facility the honors passed to other hands.
In stature Miss Hosmer is rather under the medium heighlt.
The engraving which accompanies this sketch is from a drawing by her friend, Emily Stebbins, executed quite a number
of years ago.  It presents her as much resembling a fair and
brilliant boy; and this agrees well with the description given
by Mrs. Child of her appearance when she first returned to
this country:  iHer face is more genial and pleasant than her
likenesses indicate; especially when engaged ill conversation
its resolute earnestness lights up with gleams of humor. She
looks as she is,- lively, frank, and reliable.  Ill dress and
manners she seemed to me a charming hybrid between an energetic young lady and a modest lad....  She carried
her spirited head with a manly air. Her broad forehead was
partially shaded with short, thick, brown curls, which she
often tossed aside with her fingers, as lads do." A recent 
HIARRIET G. HOSMER.
photograph shows the same style of wearing the hair, and
shape of the forehead, with changes of time. The eyes are
more deeply set beneath the brows; and the mouth and chill
with bolder curve give the expression of maturity and force.
Ill manner Miss Hosmer is prompt and decided.  Her conversation is original, humorous, and animated; her voice clear
and ringing; and her laugh, which frequently occurs, musical.
She is fond of putns, and inclined to facetiousness. A common
signature of letters to her friends is a hat.  One of her English friends named her Berritina, -in Italian, small hat. An
anecdote related to the writer by the gentleman concerned
exhibits her self-reliant and almost defiant spirit.  Ile had
dined with her at the house of the American consul.  When
the company separated, after dark, he proposed to accompaniy her home.  "No gentleman," was the reply,. fgoes
home with me at night in Rome."  It is needless to say she
is a prominent figure ill American society there.
It has already sufficiently appeared that her character is
strong,ly marked, positive, piquant, and unique.  Some would
call her masculine and strong-minded.  She certainly defies
conventionalities, and is self-stistained, bold, and dashing to
a degree which must offend those who believe it is scarcely
less than a sin that a woman should trespass on the ancier t
rules of occupation, and the borders of that gentleness and
delicacy which they have regarded as special properties and
ornaments of her sex.  BuLt the defence of her youth may be
repeated; her boldness is not immodest, and her humor is
not malicious. No trace appears of corrupt principles and
evil sentiments; and if " spirits are not finely touched but for
fine uses," then her works prove that she must have been
sculptured by nature as one among the noblest forms of the
human soul.
By the ordinances of the Creator, and by characteristic endowments, most women must find their wisest, happiest, and
597 
5EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
most exalted life in the circle of domestic love and (Itity,
but they are not all called to reign in the sacred dominion of
the family; and, without involving themselves in questions
agitated on many platforms concerningi the rights and sphere
of woman, not a few of their best spirits are quietly workingi
out those problems by enterprising and honorable endeavors
with triumphant results.  If legislation, from whatever cause,
in the past has been unjust, and if sad instances are recorded
of calumny which has foamed out against the daughters of
learning and art, it is still true that men generally have
shown themselves disposed to honor those who have performed
lofty achievements. From the time when "the women that
were wise-hearted" wrou,ghlt for the construction and decoration of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, and the time when
Hypatia taught philosophy in Alexandria with inspiring eloquence, to the present, fitets show that true and great-hearted
women call find sufficient encouragement, from age to age, in
the justice, admiration, and substantial rewards of brothers
who are brothers; and bright on the pages that shall preserve
the history of those noble sisters will stand the name of Harriet
G(. Hosmer.
598
0 
ROSA BONHEUR.
ROSA BONHEUR.
BY PROF. JAMES M. HOPPIN.
THE happy and beautiful name which heads this article is
befitting the career of one of the most famed and brilliant of
women; but, apt as it is, it fails to give us an idea of the remarkable energy and brave persistency of character by which
its possessor has fairly acquired her fame.
About ten years ago, a gallery of French paintings of some
of the most noted modern artists was opened for exhibition
in the city of New  York, in which, notwithstanding two
vigorous pictures by Dubufe, senior, and one or two landscapes by Isabey, and some other works of well-known painters, by far the most interesting picture in the collection,
mvhich drew all eyes to it, was the portrait of Rosa Bonheur,
by Dubufb, junior, which is now classical.
The face of Mademoiselle Bonheur, in this portrait, is fuill
of fire.  The bright, black eyes have great intelbity of expression. The features, by no means beautiful, are yet noble,
and convey the impression of concentrated force, as if sharpened l)y thought.  The hair, cut short, is parted like a man's
on one side of the head; and the costume, also, gives the
suspicion of something like masculine attire.  The keen and
ardent intellectuality of the countenance contrasts strongly
with the placid, "sonsie" expression, the stubbed horns, and
gentle eyes of the well-fed, amiable yearling, whose portrait
599' 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
is by Mademoiselle Bonlieur's own pencil, and on which she
is represented as carelessly and confidently leaning.
At the same time that this gallery was opened, there was
also on exhibition in the city Rosa Bonheur's picture of the
" Ihorse-Fair," -Marche  aux  Chevaux.  This  magnificent
painting fairly introduced Rosa Bonheur to the American
public; although, I believe, it was not the first of her pictures
which had been brought to this country.  It is pure life and
movement. It is full of hurrying power. The horses seem
to be detached from the canvas, and one almost feels, at first
silght, like getting out of the way quickly, lest some of those
big-boned steeds, not apparently under the entire control of
their grooms, should trample him down ill their fury.  The
dust, lit up by the sunshine of a hot sllmmer's day, pervades
with its powdery cloud the lower line of the picture. The
horses are a natural breed of useful and powerful animals, in
fine condition, and excited by the emulation and rush of numbers.  Their necks are clothed with thunder, and the noise and
shouting have brought out all their mettle and fire. The
closest and most patient study is shown in marking the typical individualities of the animal, and in the production of such
living power without the slightest particle of exagg,eration.
One can see the great masses of muscle quiver, and the very
hair of the horses' coats flying about. Yet, with this absolute
truth to nature, there is no servile imitation; but there is that
creative touch which makes the horses alive, and bids them,
as Michael Angelo said to the bronze steed of the Einperor
Aurelius, " March!"
Undoul)tedly this is Rosa Bonheur's greatest picture, on
which her fame chiefly rests; but, in our estimation, one or
two others of her paintings - especially of her cattle-scenes
- are not only more pleasing, but are equally characteristic
of her peculiar geniuis.  " The Ploughing Scene in the Nivernais," — Labourage 1iivernais, - now in the Luxembourg
600 
ROSA BONHEUR.
gallery, is a charmning pastoral landscape in the heart of
sunnty France, breathing the tranquil repose of nature, which
softens and refines the manifestations of rough animal force.
Yet how admirable the hearty strain and tug of the great oxen
under the encouraging voice of their driver, as the ploug,hshare mounts a little rising slope of the furrowed field
One powerfull white bull in the team, less tractable to the
yoke than his fellows, still halngs back with a sullen light in
his eye. A long, flowering shrub has been laid over upjon
its side by the cruel share; while, on the very edge of the
plouthed ground, another little flower,  untouched, lifts up
its pretty, fearless head.  But it is not often that our artist
indulges in such delicate feminine touches as this; for her
genius is bold and strong,, and vies with that of man, despising the appeal to the mere poetic sensibility.
Stich rural groups as "The Cantal Oxen," " Hay-making,"
Morning in the Hilgilands," "Denizens of the Mountains,"
and others, are grand pastoral pictures, in which the aniiimals
seem to be, as they should, but parts of the wide and open
nature.
One of her cattle-scenes tells its story at a glanlce. A
majestic bull stands in the centre of the group, in the full perfection of his strength, the monarch of the fields.  An older
bull and cows lie around on the grass of a hig,h table-land,
intermixed with heather,  with a wide horizon of craggy
mountains in the distance.
A little way off from the central group stands, somewhat
foreshortened, and as if cast in iron, a massive young bull,
with a lowering and jealous expression of countenance, looking toward his companions, his horns like short daggers, and
his tail brandished in air, as if he were already measuriing in
his rude breast the strength of his antagonist, which ere long
is to be tested in deadly combat.
But there is no forcing of such a meaning on the beholder.
601 
602    EMINENT WOMEN OF r.HE AGE.
The idea of the piece may be this, or it may be something else
equally ill accordance with nature.  The animal painting of
the day, developed in England by Sir Edwin Landseer and
others, while wonderfully true and beautiful, and in the case
of the first-lnamed artist highly poetic, contains that, as it ap:
pears to us, which is predicated upon a false principle.  While
there is doubtless harmony in creation, and something of
typical human nature in all the lower orders of being, yet this
truth may be so exaggerated as to become absolutely untrue
and degradiing.  We are touched by the pathos of "The
Shepherd's Chief MIourner" and the poetry of "Coming Events
cast their Shadows before," and we laugh at "Dignity and
Impudence," taking home the latent lesson on hullmankind so
exquisitely conveyed; yet to work upon this idea altogether,
to press this sentiment or falncy of moral resemblance between
man and the brute creation too far, and to attribute human
qualities to animals, surely takes from the truth of nature,
lowers art itself, and produces often but a well-painted faible
or burlesque.  Rosa Bonhetur at least never sins in this way.
You may call it a want of the poetic element, but her animals
are true to nature, and are not human beings; they are only
simple oxen, sheep, horses, and dogs; subordinate parts of the
animal world, keeping, their own place, exhibiting the wellknown traits and instincts of man's irrational servants, claiming to be nothing, higher than they are, beautiful as manifesting
the nature God gave them, belonging solely to the sphere of
rural life, and framed in by the mountains, fields,'woods, and
streams, by the homely features or the sweet tranquil beauty
of pastoral scenery. She is thus, as one has said, as true a
daughter of Paul Potter, as of Raymond Bonheur.
Rosalie Bonheur was born in Bordeaux, France,  March
23d, 1822.*  Her father, Raymond Bonheur, was  an artist
* The following sketch of 4ademoiselle Bonheur's life is, for the most part, drawn
directly from French sources. 
IROSA BONHEUR.
of some original power, but was compelled by poverty to re nounce his higher studies and his dreams of artistic fame, an(
to devote himself to giving lessons in drawing.  He was thus
all his life kept in the humbler walks of his profession, though
'he found his reward at last in livingo to see the fatme of his
daughter Rosa.
Day and night this worthy man toiled at his occupation of
drawi,ng-master, aided by his youngt wife Sophie, who gave
lessons in music, walkiong daily from one end of the city to
the other.  Through the incessant labors of these devoted
parents, the prospects of their little family, already increased
to four children, became at length brighter, and Raymond set
about preparing two large pictures for the Paris exhibition,
wheii he was called upon to suffer the sudden bereavement of
his wvife's death.  This blow crushed his hopes.  Bordeaux
became insupportable to him, and he removed to Paris when
Rosa, his eldest child, was seven years old.
She was i)laced with her two little brothers under the care
of a worthy matron named Catherine, who lived in the Champs
Elysees; and the children were daily sent to the school of the
Sisters Chaillot.
But sturdy little Rosa liked sunshine better than school,
and played truant on pleasant days.  Her wandering steps
were drawn irresistibly toward the neighboring Bois de Boulogne, which, at that time, bore very little resemblance to the
present beautifil park.
Then it was but a rough young forest or copse-wood, untrimmed and uncared for, that had sprung up in the place of
the fine old oaks and beeches cut down by the Cossacks in
1815.
Great dusty avenues ran  through this wood  at right
angles, which was very rarely visited ekcepting by the duellist
and suicide. Sometimes the people of the villages around
came to the wood to find a shady place in the heat of dog
603
0 
604    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
days; and here and there might be met a stray, solitary rider.
But, ill spite of the shadows and solitude, the Bois de Bou-.
loigne had an unconquerable attraction for Rosa.
To her, a ten-years-old child, there was nlothlling, so magnificent ill the whole world as this forest walk.   With her
ilndependent manners, brisk gait, her hair cut close, and her
round, chubby face, she might have been taken for one of the
trutlalnt boy-heroes of the Chaillot school, if the little petticoat
colming down to her knee had not shown her sex.
She might often have been seen bounding like a kid along
the forest walks, while the good Catherine supposed she was
snug and safe at school.
Making excursions to the rivers and the hills, she plucked
big bouquets of daisies and marigolds, or she broke her way
into the thick copse, throwing herself on the grass and passing whole hours listening to the songs of the linnets, watching the magical effects of the sunlight strtuggling, througlth tlie
wood, and gazing dreamily at the great white clouds that
floated thlrough the summer sky.
At another time, stopping on the side of the road, she
drew with a stick, on the sand, the objects that met her eye,
horses and riders, animals and people, framing in her personages with a fanciful landscape, dotted with windmills and
cottages.
Her drawing sometimes so absorbed her, that she did not
notice the odd group that, after a while, gathered about her,
down on their knees, too, in admiration, at the precision of
the figures which the little artist had traced on the dusty
road-side.
One of them said to her one day:  "You draw well, my little girl I"
" Yes, indeed," replied the child, with a decided air.  "Papa
draws well too. He gave me lessons." 
I
ROSA BONHELR.
But these erratic ways were after a while founJ out, and,
for better oversight, Rosa was apprenticed to a seamstress.
The spirited child felt this change bitterly; and it was
very soon seen that the monotonous bonidage of needle-work
was wearing upon her sadly; and her pale face and meagre
features caused her father to take her away, and place her in
a _pension, or young ladies' school, where, for her board and
education, he gave drawing,-lessons three times a week.
Rosa soon began to show her bold, self-willed nature, that
brooked no control, and turned the school upside down with
her pranks.
\Tothing could exceed the fun and ingenuity of her extravagant madcap  tricks.   Cutting  out grotesque caricatures of the older scholars and the teachers, especially of
the English master, she fastened these by threads to balls
of chewed paper, and then flinging them to the ceiling, there
they dangled and grimaced, to the infinite amusement of the
younger scholars.
There was no search for the offender.  Rosa was at once
sentenced to a dry crust and water.
But, in the mean while, her extraordinary talent was recognized, and madame, who kept the school, was very careful to
gather up these cuttings and caricatures for her album, fornming thus an amusing collection.  -
In her other studies Rosa made poor progress.  Drawing'
absorbed her. You might punish her and deprive her of
food, and shut her up, but she would sketch landscapes with
charcoal on the walls of her closet prison.
At the year's end, to the embarrassment of her father and
the envious admiration of the other pupils, she never failed
to bear away the first prize for drawing.
Rosa would have been even happy at this school, were it
not that her school-mates, by their mean jealousy and spite,
deeply wounded her self-esteem.
605 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
Most of the girls belonged to aristocratic and wealthy fam
ilies, and the daughter of a poor drawing,-master was looked
upon by them as a kind of mendicant, admitted by an act of
special charity into their company.
Twenty times a day, and especially at meal-times, these
young simpletons humiliated and martyrized their fellow-pupil
by makiingl comparisons of her plain gown with their silk
dresses, or their silver goblet with her pewter talnkard.
These needle-points stuing Rosa's proud young spirit.  She
grew morbid and sombre. She avoided the society of her
companions.  She had long, crying fits, and at times was violently irascible and demonstratively contemptuous of the
whole establishment.
M. Boniheur found it necessary to take his daughter home
under his own humble roof, and here her troubled spirit
found rest. She threw herself at once wholly into artistic
pursuits. All day long she never quitted her fathtler's study,
drawing and painting incessantly.  When it grew too late to
draw, she betook herself to modelling in wvax or clay; for
she early developed a remarkable genius for sculpture, and
for some time the struggle was hard as to which branch of
art she should follow, but finally the charms of color prevailed over those of form.
When she had decided to pursue painting as a vocation,
she spent her mornings at the Louvre Gallery, studying and
copyingC the pictures of the great masters of the Italian school,
and of Poussin and Lesueur, rather slighting the Flemish
painters.  The director of the Louvre Gallery, M. AlMousseline, said of her at this time, " Je n'ai pas vtu jusqu'ici d'exemple, d'une telle application, el d'une telle ardeur att travail."
When she had finished her day's work at the Louivre, she
began her studies with her father.  He was her only tcacher;
and he did not permit her to do anything for pul)lic exhibition until he thought her genius was sufficiently matured,
606 
ROSA BONHEUR.
Four years were thus passed in the study of the old mas.
'; ters.
But at length she was forced to answer the question, to
what particular aim were her efforts to be directed?  Should
she become an historical painter? That would be to forg,et
that she was a woman.   Should she be a genre painter?
That was something, which did not meet the inmost bent and
quality of her mind.
Then it was that the remembrance of her early wanderi[ngs
in the" Bois de Boulogne "came freshly to her.  She recalled
the long, delights and delicious dreams that she had, as a
child, in communion with open nature in the fields and woods,
and she awoke to the fact that she was to be a painter of
pastoral nature.
Immediately, with the energy of will which she put into
everything that she undertook, and which Goethe says makes
the difference between the great and small mind, she began
to study, not the painted classical landscapes, with their eternal mountains likle mill-stones, and their Arcadian fountains
covered with Greek inscriptions, but the streams, woods,
fields, and mountains near at hand, of God's makii?g, and
covered with their living flocks and herds.
Every morning Rosa departed with her painting apparatus,
and some simple provision for her noontide meal, crossing
the city barriers, and straying, wherever her fincy led her,
in the green fields around Paris.
After having walked a long distance into the countr, she
rested at the border of some stream, prepared the colors of
her palette, and made a rapid sketch of the senDe where she
happened to be.
She returned home worn out with flitigue, and often with
her garments drenched and covered vithl mud; l)but this did
not prevent her from doing, the same thling the next dy.
Her attention was even then given to ainimated nature,
607 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THiE AGE.
drawing the animals that she came across in the fields,  and
studying their habits; but she longed to have a farm-yard
and stable at home, and, in fact, a couple of all the animals
that were in the ark.  As she could not quite realize this
wish, she came as near it as possible.
They lived ill the sixth story of a house in the Rue Rumfort.  Their lodging, consisted of four very small rooms,
opening out upon a little terrace.  Rosa managted to malke
this terrace illto a hanging, garden, with flowers, rope-weeds,
and other climnbing plants,   a kind of oasis flourishing,atmid
an endless desert of roofs and chimneys.  And here was
installed a pretty sheep of Beauvais, with fine, long silken
wool, and which for two years served as a model for our
3young artist.
But this was not enough.  With a courage above her sex,
the young girl went three times a week to visit the abattoir
of the Roule.  There she passed whole days braving the disgusting features of the place, and working and taking sketches
amid a crowd of butchers and flayers.
At last she made her debut in the Salon exhibition of 1841,
with two pictures, entitled "Goats and Sheep," and "Two
Rabbits."
The next year she followed with "Animals in a Field," " A
Cow lying inl a Meadow," and " A HIorse Sale."  In 1844 she
exhibited "Horses out to Pasture," and "Horses  going to
Water."
She kept her pictures in her study until she was satisfied
with them, never compromising her reputation with:t hasty
production; so that in the exhibition of 1844 she had but
three little paintings and the clay model of a bull; but, in
1845, she senilt in twelve pictures of marked merit with the
true stamp of genius.
Mademoiselle Bonheur did not have to struggle through
long years of obscurity. She rose at once into fame. Her
608 
]ROSA BONIIEUR.
works, though at first a little timid, showed unexampled
accuracy, purity, and a vig)rous sentiment of nature.
The pureli,se of her noble picture of "Cantal Oxen," by
Engoland, set the seal to her reputation; and at the same time
the French committee of award decreed her a medal of the
first class.  Horace Vernet, president of the commission,
proclaimed her triumph before a brilliant assembly, and presented her in the government's name, a superb Se6vres valse.
In 1849 Rosa Boniheur sent to the Exhibition a number of
remarkable paintiungs, among them the famous "Ploughing
Scene in the Nivernais," and a " Morningc, Scene'.' ordered by
the government.  In eight years she had exhil)ited thirtyone pictures, and many more were painted for private individuals.  Her reputation had nowV become European, indeed
world-wide; she could not fulfil half her orders from rich
amateurs, and wealth beganll to flow in upon-her.
But she was still the same simple Rosa Bonheur that she is
to-day, absorbed in her art, and never showing any extravagance or excess of display in her pictures.  She never attempted the sensational or impossible.  She did not try any
novel methods of effect, and was true to nature.
All her pictures are truly felt and thoroughly executed.
There is no need of searching, for any other cause of success.
Simplicity has done more for her than artifice for others.
In looking at her pictures people were surprised to find al
impression of a serious character in the faces of the great
white and red oxen, the limpid eye, and the muzzle drippiig,
with foam; the peaceable look of sheep browsing on the
savory grass of the hills and mountains, and the landscape
breathing the pensive charm and filled with the perfume of
the summer fields; it was in fact art which simply reproduced
the charm of nature.
"The mif3sion of Rosa Bonheur," says M. Lepelle, of Bois
Gallais, " is to decipher the sublime poetry of rural nature,
s9
609 
610    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
and to translate to us the works of God. It is in the fields,
the woods, the most rugged and solitary mountains, that she
finds the inspiration for her pictures, and her pencil teaches
us to read deeper lessons in the book of creation."
Perhaps tile highest quality of Rosa Bonheur as an artist,
and that is saying a great deal, is her truth to nature,- what
the French call "the probity of her pencil."  Here she wins
our inmost sympathy.
Physically, Rosa Bonheur is of medium, or rather small,
stature. Her features are a little hard and masculine, but
regular. IHer forehead is broad and beautiful. All the lines
of her face indicate immense force of character.  Her black
or dark-brown eyes are full of brilliancy; her hands are small
and finely shaped.
Owing to the peculiar demands of her department of art,
leading her to traverse fields, to visit farm-yards and markets,
to mingle among shepherds, labl)oring, men, and horse-dealers,
she is accustomed, on such excursions, to wear a man's dress,
and looks very much in it like a young, farmer.  It is impossible to recognize her sex.  But she never appears in this garb
excepting in the country.
Her dress at all times is simple to carelessness.  Greedy of
time alone, she cannot afford to spend it upon herself.
Wearingo  a great slouched hat, coming over her face and
neck, she walks quickly withl a firm step, her head down,
observing no one, and preoccupied with thought.  She is
invariably accompanied in her rambles by two great dogs, of
one of which she has made a portrait.
Her masculine dress has sometimes led her into some odd
adventures, that are related by her biographers, but which we
do not think is worth the while to repeat.
She lives in the Rue d'Assas,near the corner of the Rue Vagiran.td, in the only quarter of Paris where one still finds gardens
which have not given way to modern improvements and to an 
ROSA BONIIEUR.
avalanche of stones.  IIer little cottage, standling back from
the street a short distance, is literally embowered ill foliage.    -i
The ground floor contains a dining-room and three sleeping
apartments quite modestly  furnished.  On the first floor,
ascending to it by a careftilly carpeted staircase, you come to
Mademoiselle Bonheur's atelier.   This is hung with green
velvet, and is filled with exquisite and bizarre objects of art;
and, with its tapestry, inlaid floors, pictures, bronzes, pieces of
armor, skins of wild animals for rugs, and branching, horns of
deer and oxein upon the walls, it forms a curious and brilliant
salon.  It is open for receptions on Fridays.  While courteously entertaining herguests Mademoiselle Bonhcur stillcontinues working.  "Allow me to restume my brush; we call talk
just as well together," she says, after the first salutation.
She rises at six, and when the day closes she is still found
at her easel, not leavingo it until an hour after midnight.
During, this long period of work she is refreshed by nowv and
then hearingl reading and music.
It is said that Georg,e Saud is her favorite author, though it
is difficult to understand how a character of such perfect
simplicity and purity as Rosa Bonhleur's could find the slightest satisfaction of mind or heart from such an author.  Evidently she yields to the irresistible charm of the style, feeling, that tl- poison of the ideas has no danger for her.
She early decided not to marry, wedding, herself to her art.
Duritng her visit in England, it was half jocosely and half
seriously talked of, that Sir Edwin Lancdseer should marry
her; but perhaps the fact of her vigorous riv.lshlip in the
same line of art daunted the amiable ol(d bachelor.  It is
said that when he first saw her " Ilorse F.]rii," he ma-gnanimously and humorously exclaimed, "It surpasses me, though
it's a little hard to be beaten by a woman."
MIademoiselle Bollheur has made  many journeys.  She
has visited the pituresque portions of France, and roamed
611 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
over the Pyrenees into Spain. Her delight is in the moun.
tains, - the more solitary and wild the better; and she seldom
fails to bring home from these excursions a number of ex quisite sketches.  Her companion in these journeys is a
Mademoiselle Micas, who resides with her in Paris.  This is
a middle-aged lady, herself all artist, who, besides  being,
gifted with many mental accomplishments, is said to have
a remarkable power of subduing vicious animals by the ma,g netism of her eye.  She thus approaches the most danger ous bulls roaming the mountain pastures, who are induced to
stand quietly for their portraits.
Rosa has partially realized the dream of her youth In
becoming the possessor, at her home in the Rue d'Assas, of
quite a number of animals,- two horses, four goats, an ox, a
cow, donkeys, sheep, and dogs, without naming many smaller
__animals, and rare fowls and birds.
She studies the individual traits of animals. She loves to
give their natural history, which she does with piquant origi  nality.  She grows poetical and enthusiastic in setting forth
the characters and dispositions of her favorites.  Ill conver  sation, she has vivacity joined with depth of judgment and
exquisite delicacy of ideas.  She knows how to be very sar  castic, but her generous nature does not allow her to exercise
her talent often in this direction.  She is abrupt and inde  pendent, but kindly, noble, and self-sacrificing.
In 1849 she lost her father, whom she loved with all the
devotion of her strong nature.
Her father had been made the director of the Communal
School of Design for girls, in the Rue Dupuytren.  Rosa
assisted him in his duties, and after his death took his place
nominally, although her sister Juliette, now Madame Peyrol,
really carries on the school.
Rosa makes a weekly visit to the institution, and this is
612 
ROSA BONHEUR.
the great day of the week for the school, -  a day of mingled
laug,hter and tears.
The moment her quick, firm step is heard in the hall of the
building there is a solemn silence.
She passes rapidly round in review, giving to each pupil's
work a penetratulclg glance and word.
Above all she cannot endure bad drawing, and where a
scholar repeats her mistakes she is sometimes very severe,
te]ling her that she had better go home to her mother and
learn to make bread, or some cuttiing remark of the kind;
which, however, a moment after is followed by some excessively droll and good-natured speech, that dries up the tears
of the poor girl, and sets her laughingo with the rest.
Upon her great picture of the "Horse-Fair," Rosa Bonheur spent eighteen months of the most conscientious and
exhausting labor. Dressed in a blouse, she went twice a
week to the horse-market, studying the animals, and, in fact,
their Normandy owners and grooms, the portraits of some
of whom  she  has spiritedly painted.  This picture  was
boughlt by the French government, but afterwards fell again
into Mademoiselle Bonheur's hands, and she sold it to M.
Galnbart for forty thousand francs. It was purchased by
William P. Wright of New Jersey, and is now owned by A.
T. Stewart.
Rosa Bonheur has received immense sums for her pictures,
and has, indeed, but to offer her paintings and her portfolio
of sketches to the public, to become wealthy; btit she is not
greedy of money, and is so generous in her gifts to relatives
and charitable objects, that she does not accumulate property.
She has been known to send to the Moont de Piet6 the valu able gold medals that she bs received in order to raise funds
to assist fellow-artists.
She supports two aged females, who were formerly her ser vwnts. Among many stories cf her liberality we mention
613 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
two.  A poor lady artist, who had been coldly repulsed by
several rich men of her own profession, to whom, ill her extreme distress, she hlad reluctantly applied for assistance,
went at last to Rosa Bonheutr, who immediately took cdown a
small but valuable painting from her study wyall, and insisted
upon her accepting it, by which a very considerable sum of
money was raised.
A  young sculptor, who was an ardent admirer of her genlius, addressed her a modest note enclosiIng a bill for a hundred francs, which, he said, was all he possessed, asking her
if she would send him a little drawing of the value of the
bill.  The samne evening she returned to him his bill accompanied by an exquisite sketch estimated to be worth at least
a thousand francs.
We would close this brief account of her life, by quoting from
a  graphic description, recently written l)y a Paris newspaper
correspondent, of Rosa Bonheur and her country home: —
"Rosa Bonheur's workshop is far away from the breweries
of Mont Breda, or the chestnuts of the Luxemblourg,.   You
nmust talke the Lyons line; get out at Fonltainebleau, and
ask the first individulal you meet the road to Chateau By.
After an hour's walk, in a thick wood, you perceive at an
opening of the Thourmery woods an airy-looking building, in
which the architect has combined iron, brick, and wood with
rare artistic taste.  From the cellar to the roof everythinglo
is graceful and coquettish in this miniature castle.  Its itrregularity is its greatest charm, and your eyes could felast all clay
on the turrets hung with ivy and the balconies entwined with
honeysuckle, if your ears did not ring with a peculi:tr harmony which detracts from your admiration.  You  imagine
that in the barn near by an Orpheus transformed into an animal is chanting forthl a chorus of Richard Wagner's; but, after
listening attentively, this strange concert is found to proceed
614 
ROSA BONHEUR.
from the bleating, of sheep, the lowing of cows, the neighing
of horses, and the yelping of dogs.
The servant pointed out to me a finny-looking, little man,
coming towards me knittingr his eyebrows.   He had on an
enormous straw hat.  Looki ng under it I perceived a soft,
beardless fa.ce, browned by the sun and lighted up by two
moderate-sized chestnut-colored eyes.  The small nose rather
exaggerated the size of the large mouth, showing two rows of
superb teeth.  Long hair flowed from under her large peasant hat in great negligence.
"'Who are you??  Where do you come from?' and' What
do you want?' said she to me sharply.  She stopped in front
of me, and thrust her hands in the pockets of a pair of
gray-ribbed velvet pants.  I had been struck with the minuteness of those hands, and looked at her feet, wvhichl were
equally microscopic, in spite of their thick covering of calfskin undressed, with peagged soles.
"This Caesar-like apostrophe disconcerted me a little, but
recovering my coolness, I answered,'I am a journalist, and I
wish to see Miss Bonheur.'
"'Well, look at her,' said the little peasant, taki-ngt off his
head-gear.
"She continued in a milder tone,'You must excuse me; you
understand that I am obliged to keep intruders away.  If
talent makes a wild beast of a person, it is scarcely worth
desiring.  You know, also, the loss of time occasioned by
the visits of strangers; the weariness caused by their qlestions.
Come now with me; I am  going, to show you my sheep; if
it tires you I can't help it; hurry, because I left one half
shorn, and if the fleece is not taken off at once the poor
beast burns on one side and freezes on the other. I was
born to be a farmer, but fate decided otherwise. I am a
painter, and out of my element,"'
615 
616    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
We should be glad, were we able, to make a detailed crit icismn of Mademoiselle Bonheur's works and artistic genius.
We will offer a few words, setting forth as best we can her
relative rank as an artist, and, in the phrase of that philo sophic French critic, M. Taime, the "milieu" to which her
character and style of art-production belongs.
Rosa 13onhleur is acknowledged to be, beyond all gainsay ing, a master.   She is one of the few painters of the day of
any coulntry, who deserve  that title.  She has attained that
proud eminence, which many a man of decided power, but
who still walks in stereotyped paths, has not been able to
win. It implies that in her own special field of art she has
exhibited an original genius, and has become a leading, if
not the leadilg, representative.  She is, undoubtedly, the
greatest female artist who has ever lived.
Of the two principal departments of art comprehended in
the idealistic and naturalistic schools, Rosa Bonheur belongs
decidedly to the latter.  Nature has been her inspirer.   We
have seen how, by the sole force of her youthfil genius, she
broke away from the classical school, like a young horse that
throws his rider, leaps the roadside fence, and gallops, with
fiery eye and streaming mane, into the wide green fields, rejoicing in his new-found liberty.  She has taken the real facts
of nature for the basis of her art. She loves nature. One
must love the little violet before he can  paint it.  By a
patient, self-forgetting study of nature, by winding, herself
into her inmost confidence, by following those deep pinciples of beauty and life that are so hidden and evasive, she
has grasped the secret of power.   She is not beholden to
the Louvre Gallery, nor to Poussin.  She does not look
at the clear and open face of nature "through a glass
darkly" of the older school of pastoral painters, who, while
men of genius, have followed some preconceived theory,
some solemn artificiality, or some symbolic idea, which 
ROSA BONHEUR.
came between the truth of nature and the eye and soul of tlhe
artist; but in her brave and simple faith she goes away from
pictures iand crowds out into the pure country, lonely and still,
and smelling of the fresh-broken earth and new-mnown hay;
she traverses rough clayey roads through the fields; she sits
ill the bare cottages of peasants; she chats with plouighmen
in their broad-brimnmed hats and blouses; she talks, too, with
the patient beasts as they stand panting in the furrows, or
with dreamy eye ruminate their cud under the tree-slhadows
ill the sultry noontide;  she comprehends the languagce of
their voices, looks, and motions, and spells out, with a
child-like docility, the broad page made by the hand of the
Great Artist, and pictured over with flocks of sheep, -the
earliest type of innocence and purity.
She goes to maternal earth for her nourishment, from whose
ample breast is drawn the support of man.  A healthful, ruddy child of earth, not of heaven, is her art, - playmate of
the herds and flocks, baptized by the morning, dew,  and
sleeping amid the spicy heather of the mountains.  Rosa
Bonheur belongs to the Dutch or Flemish school of pastoral
painters, with a far finer and more earnest spirit, and with
the more thorough and scientific training of the modern
French school.
She is a perfectly accomplished artist in drawing, anato my, and all the more technical and mechanical portion of
her art.  She skilfully uses the palette knife on her ln(ldscapes
for the production of harmonious effects, which, it is said,
few artists are able to do. As a colorist, or tonist, Troyon,
her most formidable rival as an animal painter, is said to
somewhat excel her, but in no other respect.  Yet, after all,
it is not in these things that the great artist is seen, but in the
quality of the mind, its vigor and fineness, its capacity to
produce.  Here, Rosa Bonheur, deeply musing, striking, out a
new path for herself, going to the unfrequented but ever fresh
617 
618    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
sources of nature, having confidence in her own powers, and
producing original and splendid results, shows her true
greatness.
She has been called an imitator of nature, and no idealist,
or without poetry and imagination; and she has been, in this
re,gard, unfavorably compared with Sir Edwin Landseer. But
all art is in one sense imitation.  It is not nature itself, but it
is only a representation of natural objects. It is all illusion,
whose perfection is to awaken the same feelings that nature
does, to grasp the essential idea which gives life and interest
to the object, and forms its real subject ill the mind. Rosa
Bonheur does this.  Her pictures are vital with the true spirit
of the scene, or of an animal, and where there is poetry ill the
subject, there is poetry in her picture; but it is of an unlob
trusive, unsentimental, every-day, naturalistic sort.  It does
not say, "See, here is a poem;" but its truth and beauty steal
upon one unconsciously, like the beauty of simple rural scenery
and country life.  She does not seek the unknown, but takes
the commonest and most familiar objects. She speaks to the
popular heart and the common mind.  While her pictures
are full of almost unapproachled gelnius in her peculiar field,
yet they are comprehensible by all. Take her picture of the
Muleteers crossing the Pyrenees."  They are but three common  Spanish peasants, working for their daily bread; but
they have come to the top of the mountain pass, amoing the
mists and clouds, and are now beginningi to descend.  The
way grows easier.  The prospect of getting to theirjourney's
end, of the safe termination of their wearisome imarch, and of
the good wages that await them, fills their minids with careless
happiness, which, joined to rude physical strength and spirits,
makes them sing and exult.  And the animals, how full of
character! They evidently sympathize with their masters'
content; they know very well, too, that their labors have culminated. What solemn trustworthiness and official respecta 
ROSA BONHEUR.
bility in the richly caparisoned and belied mule that cads I -
what amusing knowingness in the multitude of long ears all
pointed forwards! - what awkward obstinate-headedness, expecti)ng cudgel blows, in the young rebel straying, fiomn line
to pluck thistles!- what a mingling of sa,gaciousness and insoeciatecate in the long heads and soft, almost human, eyes
There is nothing sensational, nothing highly wroulght and
imagrinative, but there is exquisite truth, insight, thoroughuess, sincerity, healthful atmosphere, power, and beauty.
Rosa Bonheur's pencil will yet produLce, it is hoped, still
more perfect works, bringingi out undeveloped powers.  She
has been strongly urged to come to this country and visit our
western regions, and to paint the buffalo and his Indian hunter
on their boundless native prairies; but this she will never
do; and her forte is not wild nature; for the fine spirit of the
woman shows itself, even ill the bold vigor of her genius, by
her choice of domestic nature, and her preference, in the
animal creation, of the noble and gentle fiiends of man, rather
than of his foes and victims of his deadly skill. The ox rather
than the lion is the symbol of her artistic inspiration.  While
she loves to seek the wild solitudes of mountain nature, it
would seem to be for the sake of their healthful repose, and
in order to find her favorite animals in their native haunts
and their free modes of life.
In this quiet domain of art the feminine mind, with its
truth, purity, and love of beauty, finds a fit field; though not,
perhaps, in the province of what is called high art, or ideal
art, but rather in the simpler province of naturalistic art.
lT,ature is woman's field,-the study of the fresh, pure works
of God, filled with his goodness and love; and yet any field,
or any branch of art, for which her genius best disposes her,
should be open to her freely, even if she cannot hope to
become an Angelica Kauffmann or a Rosa Bonheur.
Rosa Bonheur has shown what woman can do.  She has
619
10 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
asserted her right to follow the free bent of her own genius.
She has dared to pursue the path which she felt God marked
out for her; and she has thereby said to other women, if you
can, do the same.  Through much that seemed to be totilly
opposed to her sex, and impossible for a woman to achieve,
she has steadily made her way, with a pure, bright purpose,
and a strong, constant heart, until now the foremost men in
the world recognize her equal claim to greatness.  She asks
no favor to be yielded her on account of her sex. She claims
to be judged by her works on her essential merits, and she
stands proudly, but unambitiously, the full, intellectual peer
of man.
Genius has no sex. The qualities of the masculine and
feminine minds, while profoundly harmonious, even in their
contrasts, and together forming the perfect man, are, doubtless, as a general thing, differently "made up" in their relative proportions and dispositions, according to the varied
needs of their life-work.  In the masculine mind, perhaps,
the constructive and philosophic elements are more prominently controlling, and in the feminine mind the intuitive and
sympathetic; yet there is the same mind in both, the same
fiery particle," the same imperial and divine faculty, whether
it is shown in the ruling ability of a Henry IV. of France,
or an Elizabeth of England; in the philanthropic capacity of
a John Howard, or a Florence Nightingale; in the literary
scope and depth of an Alfred Tennyson, or a Mrs. Browning;
in-the creative artistic power of an Edwin Landseer, or a
Rosa Bonheur.
.620 
JULIA WARD  HO WE.
MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE.
BY MRS. LUCIA GILBERT CALHOUN.
FOURTEEN years ago there came from the famous press of
Ticknor & Company, a small volume of Poems, whose first
page, beside the imprint of the publishers, bore only the
simple title-line
PASSION FLOWERS.
An anonymous book of poetry does not commend itself
to the reading mob, and not many copies were sold. But the
critics read it, and the scholars, and that small public which
had heard that it was SIrs. Howe's book, and desired to know
what sort of verses a woman of society, a wit, a housewife,
and a mother of children would write. It was a book that
invited, and received, and defied criticism; a book powerful,
pungent, and unripe.  Its personalism  was terrible.  In
every page it said, "Lo, this thiing that God has made and
called by my name! I What is it? Why is it? Behold its
passions and temptations; its triumphs and its agonies; its
fervors and its doubts; its love and its scorn; its disappointment and its acquiescence! "  Here at last, in America,
was a woman-poet; not an echo, nor a shadow, nor a sweet
singer of nothings.  Another Sidney, chivalrous, gracious,
and eager for her part in the battles of life; to whom, also,
the muse said, "Look into thy heart, and write I " She was
not an artist, for her song had mastered her, but it must
621 
622   EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
needs have been stroong-winged, and bold to do that.  Clearly
she was a many-sided woman, whom heart and imagination
alone would have made a devotee, and her keen intellection
alone a free lance, and who thus alternately believed much
and nothing, alternately accepted and defied destiny. So
much one might read of her history in this book.
Society knew also that she was born and reared in New
York, her father being a wealthy banker, well-bred, and
scholarly. Determined that this pet daughter- a wise little
atom even in her babyhood - should not be merely a fashionable girl, he gave her teachers and books, appealed to her
ambition, aroused her artistic instinct, and kindled her religious nature. The quick spirit responded to every touch.
A wise and loving man meant only to mould a wise and
loving woman; but day by day the steady eyes grew more
intent in their questioning; day by day the broad brow wore
lines of deeper thought; day by day the elder mind caught
glimpses in the younger of that strange, ineffable gift which
men call genius.  The brilliant girl had written verses almost
as soon as she could write at all. French and Italian she
readily mastered, and in time, leaving behind her the waste
and weary land of German grammar, she came into such a
shining inheritance of German literature as seemed to create
in her new faculties of comprehension. Goethe and Schiller
were her prophets and klings, and she received with large
welcome the subtile philosophers of their speculative nation.
While a school-girl she published first, a review of Lamartine's
Jocelyn, with translations in Einglish verse, and afterwards a
more thoughtful review of Dwight's translation of the minor
poems of Goethe and Schiller.
So she grew to ripe girlhlood, -reading, writing, dreaming;
fiery within, as her warm tints and rich bright hair declared
her, l)ut cold without, under the repression of her education.
To this day it is plain that she cannot easily reconcile her 
JULIA WARD HOWE.
antagonisms.  That her reason accepts the strictest formulas
of life, her energetic intellect works well and thoroughly in
the harn( ss of existing laws and limits, while her "red temperament" sometimes besets her to set all bonds at naiught, and
scatter heresies of thought and conduct like firebrands.
At twenty, sentimental, romantic, longing for the actual
vivacity of life, and finding only the dulness of routine, she
was subject to seasons of passionate and profound melancholy.  Her German studies had made her indifferent to the
formal worship in which she had been bredcl, and  no vital
belief offered itself to her.  Into this vague, hungry, and
dark mood of hers came the awfutl kindness of death.  The
idol of her heart-her father-died, and within a brief time
a dear brother also, and the questioning heretic became a religious and spiritual enthusiast.  This exaltation lasted for two
years.  During that time the young devotee read little else
than the Bible, which she undertook as a meritorious religious
exercise.
One day a friend put into her hand "Guizot's History of
Civilization," and then her new life began.   She studied it
with all the force of her vigorous mind, and its larg,e thought
aroused her from her dream of holiness to a life of use, while
it lent wings to her self-centred imaginationl.  She was nowV
a liberal in politics, -ill religion a tlhoughtfull inquirer.  She
studied Paradise Lost, and felt its gloomy grandeur, while it
nevertheless compelled her reason to reject an eternal hell as
impossible.  At twenty-three she married Dr. Samutel G.
Howe, of Boston,- a man whose heroic labors for Greece in
her struggle for independence, whose beautifull devotion to
the blind, and whose anti-slavery crusades made men speak
of himi as the new Bayard.  They went abroad immediately.
In Einglanid the petted child, thle youong heiress, the idol of
her own circle, the haughty belle, found that her only claimn to
social distinction was her husband's fame, which the recent
623 
EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
publication of Dickens's "American Notes" had made dear to
all noble English hearts. To a woman of her strong, self centred nature, of her conscious power, and stately pride,
this acceptance of her as the appendage of another, thllis care lessness of what sovereignty might be in herself, was an
abasement as bitter as salutary. She had dreamed of literary
fame; but this sudden humiliation, the new cares, the alien
interests that crowded upon her, postponed her career for'
years.  She came to the Old World as a queen comes to her
own. Its beauty, its maturity, its solemn antiquity seemed
her inheritance. Rome, magnificent and desolate, made her
life a rapture. There her first child was born, and her pas sion of mother-love was hardly deeper than her passion of
sad tenderness for the supreme city.  Now for the first time
her firmament  was high enough to let her stand upright.
She lived in this divine atmosphere for months, and then
came back to the cold clearness of New Elngland days, set tled into the prosaic round of house-keeping, and gave her self much to society.
In spite of household cares and baby hands tugging at her
priceless hours, she saved time for the hard study which was
-the breath of her life.  She read Swedenborg,, and the tough
difficulties she encountered only stimulated her. She toiled
at Comte, and made new resolves of thorotughness and breadth
of culture.  In 185.0 she again went abroad, returningi to her
beloved home, where she wrote most of the poems included
in "Passion Flowers," and where art, and books, and her
precious children made that winter her golden prime.   Com ing back to Boston, Dr. Howe undertook the charge of " The
Commonwealth," - a newspaper dedicated to free thought,
and zealous for the liberty of the slave.
And now Mrs. Ilowe's opportunity was come.  She wrote
editorials, literary articles, and verses, contributiug, also,
those brilliant paragraphs for which the paper was famous in
624
I.
. r. -.1 
JULIA WARD HOWE.
its. day. This success opened the way for the publication of
"Passion Flowers," so overblamed and overpraised.   Two
years after came "Words for the hour," - a book that palpitated, such red heart's blood coursed through the lines. These
poems, like the first, were wayward, inartistic, obscure, defiant, but they were riper, and even more full of promise. In
each the thought was strong, and deep, and true.   The
stately rhythm that now and then broke on the ear, the full
and passionate expression, the terrible sarcasm, the sudden
lyric glimpsl,es, lavished by this intense soul dowered with the
love of love, the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, revealed a
power which no woman but Mrs. Browning had exceeded.
The critics decided to accept the new poet; but a nature so
intense, a personality so strong as hers, is rarely understood
or estimated at its worth. On the one hand she was assaulted
with flattery, and on the other with abuse.  She went steadily
on her way, saying such wittily sharp thlings of her detractors that it argued no small courage in a manl to couch a lance
at her, - still studying like an undergraduate, still writing
with the industry of a country parson, -anid inll 1857 publishing,
The World's Own," -a play produced at Wallack's Theatre,
in New York.  It was brilliant, full of dramatic feeling, and
well managed, but lacked a certain theatrical suppleness, a
stage-effectiveness, without which it could not succeed.
In 1859 Dr. and Mrs. Howe accompanied the dlying Theodore Parker to Cuba.  A  charming book of travels, witty,
brilliant, airy, and graceful, was her account of this journey,
published first in the " Atlantic Monthly," and then, with additions, in a volume which she called "A Trip to Cuba."
Fun is very near feeling, in fine souls, and all through the book,
under the ring of the laugh one catches the breathingi of a
sigh, as the shadows of the glittering islandcl-lile, and the
shadows of a parting friendship fell on the bright observer.
About these days, or earlier, readers of the  New York Tri
40
625 
626    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
bune" were charmed with occasional letters from Boston, from
New York, or Washington, about the gay world and people
and places of note, about summer days and autumn glories,
about art and poetry and religion.  Eagerly asking whose they
were, such readers came for the first time into glad relations
with Mrs. Howe, and felt her to be a benefactor, for the true
thoughts and bright pictures she had given them. Since 1860
her studies have been principally philosophical, including
Swedenborg, Spinoza,  Kiant, Fichte, and Hegel.  "I am
afraid," she said, naively, to a f    riend,  I am afraid I believe
in each one till I read the next."
During the last eight years she has written many admirable
social and philosophic papers, which she herself values far
above her poems. Six lectures on Ethics were cordially received in the drawing-room, where she read them to an audience of critical listeners. And at Northampton, at the time
of the meeting of the American Society of Arts and Sciences,
she read, before many of the academicians, a remarkable lecture on " Man a priori, and a posteriori." She has written,
also, thoughtful essays, entitled "Polarity," "Limitation,"
and "The Fact Accomplished."  She gave last year, to the
Christian Examiner," three able papers on " The Idea and
Name  of God," on "The  Ideal Church," and  The Ideal
State."
In 1866 she was daring enough to publish "Later Lyrics,"
- a third volume of miscellaneous verses, and was justified of
her courage by the worth of her work. Her splendid "Battle
Hymn of the Republic," set to the ringing tramp of the " John
Brown Song," was the Marseillaise of the war. Who will
forget, -
"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where his grapes of wrath are stored:
Hie hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword;
Iis truth is marching on. 
JULIA WARi- HOWE.
"I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.
" I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
'As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.'
"He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him, be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me;
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on."
In this third volume there is much less of the obscure, the
fantastic, the forced. A lyrical series called " IIcr Verses,'
says a fine critic, "are so charged with wild passion, that they
recall Mrs. Browning's'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' with
more of the Sappho, and less of the saint:"  Mrs. IHowve has
not yet mastered her splendid powers.   When she has fully
possessed herself America will be yet prouder of her one
great woman-poet; for Harriet Prescott writes too few
verses for her fame's sake, and all other women too many.
Mrs. Howe's last book is just published.   It is called
"From the Oak to the Olive; a Plain Record of a Pleasant
Journey," and is the story of a trip from Lofidon to Athens,
by way of Paris, Marseilles, Rome,  Naples,  and Venice.
This journey was undertaken in 1867, to assist in distributing
American supplies to the destitute and heroic Cretans.  The
road is old enough, but the traveller had new eyes.  Her
book is filled with lovely pictures of scenery and people, of
high life, and low life, of clear character-drawing, and quaint
fancies. More than this, it is profoundly thoughtful, and goes
627 
628    EMINENT WOMEN OF THE AGE.
straight to the heart of institutions, manners, and habits of
* thinking.
WVith the private life of anl author, or a queen, the public
has no business at all. Whether Mrs. Howe stands in the
kitchen eating bread and honey, or sits in the parlor counting
out her money, may not be told in these pages.  But certain
things that any person in society may know are the property
of the gentle reader.- She has auburn hair, and large, sad'
eyes, "where soul seems concentrate in sight." He  mouth is
her fine and expressive feature, though her whole face is mobile.
Her bell-like voice and her pure enunciation have a charm
like music, and the eloquence of her fine hands is irresistible;
her wit is brilliant, ready, merciless, and her sarcasm polished
and swift as the axe of the headsman Rudolph.  Her friends
know that music is her passion, swaying her whole bein,g;
that the drama is to her the Beautiful Art, as she has
written of it in a noble poem called "Hamlet at the Boston;"
that she found the infancy of her children a constant miracle
of beauty, and that now, they pet and rule her as if she were
the child; that the dignity of her nature, forcing her to accept
simplicity as the best good, makes all luxurious and showy
living distasteful to her, while her sense of symmetry and
harmony delights in order and elegance.
For the rest, in the winter she dwells in Boston, abode of
the blest, and in summer she lives in an enchanted glade, the
loveliest place onl the earth, which nobody can enter without
the magic password, and about which all that the world will
ever know is written in tinted lines, and called "Ill my Valley." The lesson of her life is earnest work, and more than
any one of her sex in America, perhaps, she has demonstrated
that it is wisdom for Women to learn the Alphabet. 
THE 
PHILOSOPHY OF HOUSE-KEEPING.
By the Prize Essaytit of the "American Agriculturist,"
V[ 1 &1[. s    S  JOSEBIPH B. LY'YMAN.
A Manital of the Domestic Arts; a Scientifl  and Practical Guide in the
Selection and Preparation of every Kind of Food; a Compendium of
the best practical Rusles for the Preservations of Health; the
Care of lsifaits, the Flood, Clothiig, and Comfort of
Children; Domestic Remedies, the Building, Con                venience, and Ornamentation of Homes,
and all the Arts, Graces, and Accom                       plishments of the Household.
NINE REASONS WHY THIS BOOK SHOULD BE IN EVERY FAMILY.
1. It is the only comprehensive work on the subject ever printed. All similar books,
as Sirs. Hale's, liss Beecher's, Jennie June's, and Prof. Blot's, are mere cook and receipt
books.  This has one chapter of receipts and one only.
2. It goes deeper than any other book. All the others simply tell how to cook.
This instructs in the principles of digestion, and prescribes the proper nutriment for
different ages, conditions, seasons, and climates.
3. There is no other book from which a housewife can get such practical information,
and so much of it, on plain sewing, and the making up of all articles of dress, from a
baby's shirt to a man's overcoat.
4. It touches all points and departments of house-keeping.
5. It gives practical rules for the preservation of health, and recovery from sickness.
6. One chapter is devoted to infants, their care, treatment of disorders to which they
are liable, their dress, and management. This chapter is particularly commended to
young mothers.
7. Special directions are given as to the ornamentation of homes, and how to make at
the fireside various elegant and tasteful decorations.
8. Suggestions are given as to the training of servants and children, which will be
found of great practical value.
9. This book gives in plain language, easily understood, the results of the most
recent researches of chemists and physiologists, respecting food. This can be found in
no other book before the public.
It contains nearly 600 pages, and can be obtained through our distributing Agents.
It is sold only by Subscription.
S. M. BETTS & CO., Publishers,
No. 91 Asylum  Street,
HAIRTFORD, CONN.
*co 11
do 
TESTIMONIALS
OF THE
PIIILOSOPHY OF HOUSE-KEEPING, -
BY MR. & MRS. JOSEPH B. LYMAN.
Opinion of S. Edwards Todd, Esq., Agricultural Editor of the New York Daily Times.
I can heartily recommend your treatise, as it tells every one who reads its pages what
to do and how to do it, in the most-feasible and philosophic manner. It is exactly such
a work as almost every house-keeper in the country can take into the kitchen and dliningroom, and learn, from the plain, simple, practical details recorded in its pages, how to
engineer every department of house-keeping with as much skill and efficiency as a joiner
working from his diagrams in his Illustrated Architect.
Your book ought to be carefully studied by every house-keeper in the city and country.
I heartily recommend it to all farmers and mechanics, to husbands and wives, to young
men and young women.  Could I have had such a book when I exchanged my state of
single'blessedness for that of married felicity, the practical instructions which I then
needed, and which are contained in TIHE PIILOSOPIIY O(F IIOUSE-KEEPINXG, would have
been of more pecuniary value to me than the cost of a thousand books.
The Hartford Courant says t
THE PHILOSOPHY OF HOUSE-KEEPING really sets forth a philosophy of living which
Is sensible and practical. There is in most families abundance of material for health and
comfort, if it was not misused by ignorant and incompetent house-keepers. The health
depends so much upon the diet, and the observance of certain simple rules, that there is
more need of information in the home department of life than in any other.
The book before us is comprehensive in its design, but simple and methodical in its
plan.  Cooking assumes the dignity of an art, and properly so.  The book is clearly and
agreeably written. W~e know of no one of its class that will be so useful to house-keepers.
The Soldiers' Friend, ]\ewv York, says:
The volume is printed in good, clear type, on good paper, and presents to the eye, in
an attractive form, a great amount of valuable information, hints, and rules, worthy of
study by every house-keeper.  And we advise all who want an excellent manual, to supply
themselves with it, as it is placed within their reach by the publishers.
Opinion of the Rev. Samuel Seelye, D D., of East Hampton, M'fass.
The style in which it is written is elegant and chaste, showing a high degree of literary culture.
The Boston Daily Traveller says:
This is a book that is needed in every family; and it contains a vast amount of useful
information, brought together in small compass, and well arranged. It is the most valuable Wk  upon the subjects treated that we have seen.
The Springfield Republican says,
THE PHILOSOPHY OF HOUSE-KEEPING is a book which should be in the hands of every
house-keeper; the good sense and thorough understanding of all the matters of which-it
treats, that characterize it, render it an invaluable companion for the mistress of a
family. We commend it to all our readers, hoping that in their hands it may do much to
inaugurate the era of hygienic house-keeping.
0