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I have said much of the interest
attending the international meetings held in Chicago, London,
Berlin, and Stockholm. That I have said less about those in
Copenhagen, Geneva, The Hague, Budapest, and other cities does
not mean that these were less important, and certainly the
wonderful women leaders of Europe who made them so brilliant
must not be passed over in silence. First, however, the
difference between the Suffrage Alliance meetings and the
International Council meetings should be explained.
The Council meetings are made up of
societies from the various nations which are auxiliary to the
International Council--these societies representing all lines of
women's activities, whether educational, industrial, or social,
while the membership, including more than eleven million women,
represents probably the largest organization of women in the
world. The International Suffrage Alliance represents the
suffrage interest primarily, whereas the International Council
has only a suffrage department. So popular did this
International Alliance become after its formation in Berlin by
Mrs. Catt, in 1904, that at the Copenhagen meeting, only three
years later, more than sixteen different nations were
represented by regular delegates.
It was unfortunate, therefore, that
I chose this occasion to make a spectacular personal failure in
the pulpit. I had been invited to preach the convention sermon,
and for the first time in my life I had an interpreter. Few
experiences, I believe, can be more unpleasant than to stand up
in a pulpit, utter a remark, and then wait patiently while it is
repeated in a tongue one does not understand, by a man who is
putting its gist in his own words and quite possibly giving it
his own interpretative twist. I was very unhappy, and I fear I
showed it, for I felt, as I looked at the faces of those friends
who understood Danish, that they were not getting what I was
giving them. Nor were they, for I afterward learned that the
interpreter, a good orthodox brother, had given the sermon an
ultra-orthodox bias which those who knew my creed certainly did
not recognize. The whole experience greatly disheartened me,
but no doubt it was good for my soul.
During the Copenhagen meeting we
were given a banquet by the City Council, and in the course of
his speech of welcome one of the city fathers airily remarked
that he hoped on our next visit to Copenhagen there would be
women members in the Council to receive us. At the time this
seemed merely a pleasant jest, but two years from that day a
bill was enacted by Parliament granting municipal suffrage to
the women of Denmark, and seven women were elected to the City
Council of Copenhagen. So rapidly does the woman suffrage
movement grow in these inspiring days!
Recalling the International Council
of 1899 in London, one of my most vivid pictures has Queen
Victoria for its central figure. The English court was in
mourning at the time and no public audiences were being held;
but we were invited to Windsor with the understanding that,
although the Queen could not formally receive us, she would pass
through our lines, receiving Lady Aberdeen and giving the rest
of us an opportunity to courtesy and obtain Her Majesty's
recognition of the Cause. The Queen arranged with her
chamberlain that we should be given tea and a collation; but
before this refreshment was served, indeed immediately after our
arrival, she entered her familiar little pony-cart and was
driven slowly along lines of bowing women who must have looked
like a wheat-field in a high wind.
Among us was a group of Indian
women, and these, dressed in their native costumes, contributed
a picturesque bit of brilliant color to the scene as they deeply
salaamed. They arrested the eye of the Queen, who stopped and
spoke a few cordial words to them. This gave the rest of us an
excellent opportunity to observe her closely, and I admit that
my English blood stirred in me suddenly and loyally as I studied
the plump little figure. She was dressed entirely and very
simply in black, with a quaint flat black hat and a black cape.
The only bit of color about her was a black-and-white parasol
with a gold handle. It was, however, her face which held me,
for it gave me a wholly different impression of the Queen from
those I had received from her photographs. Her pictured eyes
were always rather cold, and her pictured face rather haughty;
but there was a very sweet and winning softness in the eyes she
turned upon the Indian women, and her whole expression was
unexpectedly gentle and benignant. Behind her, as a personal
attendant, strode an enormous East-Indian in full native
costume, and closely surrounding her were gentlemen of her
household, each in uniform.
By this time my thoughts were on my
courtesy, which I desired to make conventional if not graceful;
but nature has not made it easy for me to double to the earth as
Lady Aberdeen and the Indian women were doing, and I fear I
accomplished little save an exhibition of good intentions. The
Queen, however, was getting into the spirit of the occasion.
She stopped to speak to a Canadian representative, and she
would, I think, have ended by talking to many others; but, just
at the psychological moment, a woman rushed out of the line,
seized Her Majesty's hand and kissed it--and Victoria, startled
and possibly fearing a general onslaught, hurriedly passed on.
Another picture I recall was made by
the Duchess of Sutherland, the Countess of Aberdeen, and the
Countess of Warwick standing together to receive us at the foot
of the marble stairway in Sutherland House. All of them
literally blazed with jewels, and the Countess of Aberdeen wore
the famous Aberdeen emerald. At Lady Battersea's reception I
had my first memorial meeting with Mary Anderson Navarro, and
was able to thank her for the pleasure she had given me in
Boston so long ago. Then I reproached her mildly for taking
herself away from us, pointing out that a great gift had been
given her which she should have continued to share with the
world.
"Come and see my baby,'' laughed
Madame Navarro. "That's the best argument I can offer to
refute yours.''
At the same reception I had an
interesting talk with James Bryce. He had recently written his
American Commonwealth, and I had just read it. It was,
therefore, the first subject I introduced in our conversation.
Mr. Bryce's comment amused me. He told me he had quite changed
his opinion toward the suffrage aspirations of women, because so
many women had read his book that he really believed they were
intelligent, and he had come to feel much more kindly toward
them. These were not his exact words, but his meaning was
unmistakable and his mental attitude artlessly sincere. And, on
reflection, I agree with him that the American Commonwealth is
something of an intellectual hurdle for the average human mind.
In 1908 the International Council
was held in Geneva, and here, for the first time, we were shown,
as entertainment, the dances of a country--the scene being an
especially brilliant one, as all the dancers wore their native
costumes. Also, for the first time in the history of Geneva,
the buildings of Parliament were opened to women and a woman's
organization was given the key to the city. At that time the
Swiss women were making their fight for a vote in church
matters, and we helped their cause as much as we could. To-day
many Swiss women are permitted to exercise this right--the first
political privilege free Switzerland has given them.
The International Alliance meeting
in Amsterdam in 1909 was the largest held up to that time, and
much of its success was due to Dr. Aletta Jacobs, the president
of the National Suffrage Association of Holland. Dr. Jacobs had
some wonderful helpers among the women of her country, and she
herself was an ideal leader--patient, enthusiastic, and
tireless.
That year the governments of
Australia, Norway, and Finland paid the expenses of the
delegates from those countries--a heartening innovation. One of
the interesting features of the meeting was a cantata composed
for the occasion and given by the Queen's Royal Band, under the
direction of a woman--Catharine van Rennes, one of the most
distinguished composers and teachers in Holland. She wrote both
words and music of her cantata and directed it admirably; and
the musicians of the Queen's Band entered fully into its spirit
and played like men inspired. That night we had more music, as
well as a never-to-be-forgotten exhibition of folk-dancing.
The same year, in June, we held the
meeting of the International Council in Toronto, and, as Canada
has never been eagerly interested in suffrage, an unsuccessful
effort was made to exclude this subject from the programme. I
was asked to preside at the suffrage meetings on the artless and
obvious theory that I would thus be kept too busy to say much. I
had hoped that the Countess of Aberdeen, who was the president
of the International Council, would take the chair; but she
declined to do this, or even to speak, as the Earl of Aberdeen
had recently been appointed Viceroy of Ireland, and she desired
to spare him any embarrassment which might be caused by her
public activities. We recognized the wisdom of her decision,
but, of course, regretted it; and I was therefore especially
pleased when, on suffrage night, the countess, accompanied by
her aides in their brilliant uniforms, entered the hall. We had
not been sure that she would be with us, but she entered in her
usual charming and gracious manner, took a seat beside me on the
platform, and showed a deep interest in the programme and the
great gathering before us.
As the meeting went on I saw that
she was growing more and more enthusiastic, and toward the end
of the evening I quietly asked her if she did not wish to say a
few words. She said she would say a very few. I had put myself
at the end of the programme, intending to talk about twenty
minutes; but before beginning my speech I introduced the
countess, and by this time she was so enthusiastic that, to my
great delight, she used up my twenty minutes in a capital speech
in which she came out vigorously for woman suffrage. It gave us
the best and timeliest help we could have had, and was a great
impetus to the movement.
In London, at the Alliance Council
of 1911, we were entertained for the first time by a suffrage
organization of men, and by the organized actresses of the
nation, as well as by the authors. In Stockholm, the following
year, we listened to several of the most interesting women
speakers in the world--Selma Lagerlof, who had just received the
Nobel prize, Rosica Schwimmer of Hungary, Dr. Augsburg of
Munich, and Mrs. Philip Snowden of England. Miss Schwimmer and
Mrs. Snowden have since become familiar to American audiences,
but until that time I had not heard either of them, and I was
immensely impressed by their ability and their different
methods--Miss Schwimmer being all force and fire, alive from her
feet to her finger-tips, Mrs. Snowden all quiet reserve and
dignity. Dr. Augsburg wore her hair short and dressed in a most
eccentric manner; but we forgot her appearance as we listened to
her, for she was an inspired speaker. Selma Lagerlof's speech
made the great audience weep. Men as well as women openly wiped
their eyes as she described the sacrifice and suffering of
Swedish women whose men had gone to America to make a home
there, and who, when they were left behind, struggled alone,
waiting and hoping for the message to join their husbands, which
too often never came. The speech made so great an impression
that we had it translated and distributed among the Swedes of
the United States wherever we held meetings in Swedish
localities.
Miss Lagerlof interested me
extremely, and I was delighted by an invitation to breakfast
with her one morning. At our first meeting she had seemed
rather cold and shy--a little "difficult,'' as we say; but when
we began to talk I found her frank, cordial, and full of
magnetism. She is self-conscious about her English, but really
speaks our language very well. Her great interest at the time
was in improving the condition of the peasants near her home.
She talked of this work and of her books and of the Council
programme with such friendly intimacy that when we parted I felt
that I had always known her.
At the Hague Council in 1913 I was
the guest of Mrs. Richard Halter, to whom I am also indebted for
a beautiful and wonderful motor journey from end to end of
Holland, bringing up finally in Amsterdam at the home of Dr.
Aletta Jacobs. Here we met two young Holland women, Miss
Boissevain and Rosa Manus, both wealthy, both anxious to help
their countrywomen, but still a little uncertain as to the
direction of their efforts. They came to Mrs. Catt and me and
asked our advice as to what they should do, with the result that
later they organized and put through, largely unaided, a
national exposition showing the development of women's work from
1813 to 1913. The suffrage-room at this exposition showed the
progress of suffrage in all parts of the world; but when the
Queen of Holland visited the building she expressed a wish not
to be detained in this room, as she was not interested in
suffrage. The Prince Consort, however, spent much time in it,
and wanted the whole suffrage movement explained to him, which
was done cheerfully and thoroughly by Miss Boissevain and Miss
Manus. The following winter, when the Queen read her address
from the throne, she expressed an interest in so changing the
Constitution of Holland that suffrage might possibly be extended
to women. We felt that this change of heart was due to the
suffrage-room arranged by our two young friends--aided,
probably, by a few words from the Prince Consort! Immediately
after these days at Amsterdam we started for Budapest to attend
the International Alliance Convention there, and incidentally we
indulged in a series of two-day conventions en route-- one at
Berlin, one at Dresden, one at Prague, and one at Vienna. At
Prague I disgraced myself by being in my hotel room in a sleep
of utter exhaustion at the hour when I was supposed to be
responding to an address of welcome by the mayor; and the
high-light of the evening session in that city falls on the
intellectual brow of a Bohemian lady who insisted on making her
address in the Czech language, which she poured forth for
exactly one hour and fifteen minutes. I began my address at a
quarter of twelve and left the hall at midnight. Later I
learned that the last speaker began her remarks at a quarter
past one in the morning.
It may be in order to add here that
Vienna did for me what Berlin had done for Susan B. Anthony-- it
gave me the ovation of my life. At the conclusion of my speech
the great audience rose and, still standing, cheered for many
minutes. I was immensely surprised and deeply touched by the
unexpected tribute; but any undue elation I might have
experienced was checked by the memory of the skeptical snort
with which one of my auditors had received me. He was very
German, and very, very frank. After one pained look at me he
rose to leave the hall.
"THAT old woman!'' he exclaimed.
"She cannot make herself heard.''
He was half-way down the aisle when
the opening words of my address caught up with him and stopped
him. Whatever their meaning may have been, it was at least
carried to the far ends of that great hall, for the old fellow
had piqued me a bit and I had given my voice its fullest
volume. He crowded into an already over-occupied pew and stared
at me with goggling eyes.
"Mein Gott!'' he gasped. "Mein
Gott, she could be heard ANYWHERE.''
The meeting at Budapest was a great
personal triumph for Mrs. Catt. No one, I am sure, but the
almost adored president of the International Suffrage Alliance
could have controlled a convention made up of women of so many
different nationalities, with so many different viewpoints,
while the confusion of languages made a general understanding
seem almost hopeless. But it was a great success in every
way--and a delightful feature of it was the hospitality of the
city officials and, indeed, of the whole Hungarian people.
After the convention I spent a week with the Contessa Iska
Teleki in her chateau in the Tatra Mountains, and a friendship
was there formed which ever since has been a joy to me.
Together we walked miles over the mountains and along the banks
of wonderful streams, while the countess, who knows all the
folk-lore of her land, told me stories and answered my
innumerable questions. When I left for Vienna I took with me a
basket of tiny fir-trees from the tops of the Tatras; and after
carrying the basket to and around Vienna, Florence, and Genoa, I
finally got the trees home in good condition and proudly added
them to the "Forest of Arden'' on my place at Moylan. |
