She spoke at the banquet of the Unitarian a.s.sociation. "The occasion was to me a memorable one." She hired the Freemasons" Tavern and preached there on five or six successive Sundays.
"My procedure was very simple,--a prayer, the reading of a hymn, and a discourse from a Scripture text.... The attendance was very good throughout, and I cherished the hope that I had sown some seed which would bear fruit hereafter."
She was asked to address meetings in various parts of England, speaking in Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Bristol, Carlisle, with good acceptance. In Cambridge she talked with Professor J. R. Seeley, whom she found most sympathetic. She was everywhere welcomed by thoughtful people, old friends and new, whether or no they sympathized with her quest.
"_June 9._ My first preaching in London. Worked pretty much all day at sermon, intending, not to read, but to talk it--for me, a difficult procedure. At 4.30 P.M. left off, but brain so tired that nothing in it.
Subject, the kingdom of heaven.... Got a bad cup of tea--dressed (in my well-worn black silk) and went to the Drawing-Room at Freemasons"
Tavern. G.o.d knows how I felt. "Cast down but not forsaken."... I got through better than I feared I might. Felt the method to be the right one, speaking face to face and heart to heart."
"_June 10._ Small beer going out of fashion leaves women one occupation the less. Fools are still an inst.i.tution; and will remain such."[71]
[71] "To suckle fools and chronicle small beer." _Oth.e.l.lo._
"_June 16_.... A good attendance in spite of the heat.... Agonized over my failure to come up to what I had designed to do in the discourse."
"_June 18_.... Saw the last of my dear friend E. Twisleton, who took me to the National Gallery, where we saw many precious gems of art.... At parting, he said: "The good Father above does not often give so great a pleasure as I have had in these meetings with you." Let me enshrine this charming and sincere word in my most precious recollection, from the man of sixty-three to the woman of fifty-three."
"_June 27._ Left Leeds at 7 A.M., rising at 4.30.... To Miss [Frances Power] Cobbe"s, where met Lady Lyall, Miss Clough, Mrs. Gorton, Jacob Bright, _et al._ Then to dinner with the dear Seeleys. An unceremonious and delightful meal. Heart of calf. Then to John Ridley"s.... Home late, almost dead--to bed, having been on foot twenty hours."
"_July 4_.... Saw a sight of misery, a little crumb of a boy, barefoot, tugging after a hand-organ man, also very shabby. Gave the little one a ha"penny, all the copper I had. But in the heartache he gave me, I resolved, G.o.d helping me, that my luxury shall henceforth be to minister to human misery, and to redeem much time and money spent on my own fancies, as I may...."
She had been asked to attend two important meetings as American delegate: a peace congress in Paris, and a great prison reform meeting in London.
The French meeting came first. She crossed the Channel, reaching Paris in time to attend the princ.i.p.al _seance_ of the congress. She presented her credentials, asked leave to speak, and was told "with some embarra.s.sment" that she might speak to the officers of the society, when the public meeting should be adjourned! She makes no comment on this proceeding, but says, "I accordingly met a dozen or more of these gentlemen in a side room, where I simply spoke of my endeavors to enlist the sympathies and efforts of women in behalf of the world"s peace."
Returning to London, she had "the privilege of attending as a delegate one of the great Prison Reform meetings of our day."
In 1843, Julia the bride would not have considered it a privilege to attend a meeting for prison reform. She would have shrugged her shoulders, would perhaps have pouted because the Chevalier cared more for these things than for the opera, with Grisi, Mario, and Lablache: she might even have written some funny verses about the windmill-tilting of her Don Quixote. Now, she stood in the place that failing health forbade him to fill, with a depth of interest, an earnestness of purpose, equal to his own. She, too, now heard the sorrowful sighing of the prisoners.
At one of the meetings of this congress, a jailer of the old school spoke in defence of the system of flogging refractory prisoners, and described in brutal fashion a brutal incident. Her blood was on fire: she asked leave to speak.
"It is related," she said, "of the famous Beau Brummel that a gentleman who called upon him one morning met a valet carrying away a tray of neck-cloths, more or less disordered. "What are these?" asked the visitor; and the servant replied, "These are our failures!" When I see the dark coach which in our country carries the criminal to his place of detention, I say, "Society, here are your failures.""
Her words were loudly applauded, and the punishment was voted down.
The Journal gives her further speech on this occasion: "Spoke of justice to women. They had talked of fallen women. I prayed them to leave that hopeless phrase. Every fallen woman represents a man as guilty as herself, who escapes human detection, but whose soul lies open before G.o.d. Speak of vicious, dissolute women, but don"t speak of fallen women unless you recognize the fall of man, the old doctrine."
Two days before this she had preached her last sermon in London. The Journal says: "All Sunday at work upon my sermon, the last in London.
"Neither height nor depth, nor any other creature." The sermon of high and low, and the great unity beyond all dimensions. A good and to me a most happy delivery of opinions and faith which I deeply hold.... So ended my happy ministration in London, begun in fear and anxiety, ended in certainty and renewed faith, which G.o.d continue to me."
August found her back at Oak Glen, exhausted in body and mind. She is almost too tired to write in the Journal, and such entries as there are only accentuate her fatigue.
"I am here at my table with books and papers, but feel very languid. My arms feel as if there were no marrow in their bones. I suppose this is reaction after so much work, but unless I can get up strength somehow I shall not accomplish anything. Weakness in all my limbs. Have had my Greek lesson and begun to read the Maccabees and the Apocrypha. I shall probably come up after a few days, but feel at present utterly incapable of exertion. I must help Maud--have helped her with music to-day...."
"Walked about with dear Chev, whose talk is always instructive. Every break in our long-continued habits shows us something to amend in our past lives. What do I see in mine after this long break? That I must endeavor to have more real life and more religion. The pa.s.sive and contemplative following of thought, my own or other people"s, must not de-energize my sympathies and my will. I must daily consult the divine will and standard which can help us to mould our lives aright without running from one extreme to another. My heart"s wish would now be to devote myself to some sort of religious ministration. G.o.d can open a way for this in which the spirit of my desire may receive the form of his will. I must lecture this winter to earn some money and spread, I hope, some good doctrine...."
Such was the beginning of her work for peace, which was to end only with her life. Disappointed in her hope of a world congress, she turned the current of her effort in a new direction. She would have a festival, a day which should be called Mothers" Day, and be devoted to the advocacy of peace doctrines. She chose the second day of June; for many years she and her friends and followers kept this day religiously, with sweet and tender observances which were unspeakably dear to her.
In 1876 there was a great peace meeting in Philadelphia. The occasion is thus described by the Reverend Ada C. Bowles: "There were delegates from France, Italy, and Germany, each with a burning desire to be heard, and all worth hearing, but none able to speak English. The audience looked to the anxious face of the President with sympathy; then a voice was heard, "Call for Mrs. Howe." Those present will never forget how her presence changed the meeting from a threatened failure to a n.o.ble success. The German, Frenchman, and Italian stood in turn by her side.
At the proper moment she lifted a finger, and then gave in her perfect English each speech in full to the delight of the delegates and the admiration of all."
The last celebration of her Mothers" Day was held in Riverton, New Jersey, on June 1, 1912, by the Pennsylvania Peace Society, in conjunction with the Universal Peace Union. On the printed invitation to this festival we read
"Aid it, paper, aid it, pen, Aid it, hearts of earnest men.
"Julia Ward Howe, 1874."
And further on, "Thirty-nine years ago Julia Ward Howe inst.i.tuted this festival for peace,--a time for the women and children to come together; to meet in the country, invite the public, and recite, speak, sing and pray for "those things that make for peace.""
CHAPTER XV
SANTO DOMINGO
1872-1874; _aet._ 53-56
A PARABLE
"I sent a child of mine to-day; I hope you used him well."
"Now, Lord, no visitor of yours Has waited at my bell.
"The children of the Millionnaire Run up and down our street; I glory in their well-combed hair, Their dress and trim complete.
"But yours would in a chariot come With thoroughbreds so gay; And little merry maids and men To cheer him on his way."
"Stood, then, no child before your door?"
The Lord, persistent, said.
"Only a ragged beggar-boy, With rough and frowzy head.
"The dirt was crusted on his skin, His muddy feet were bare; The cook gave victuals from within; I cursed his coming there."
What sorrow, silvered with a smile, Slides o"er the face divine?
What tenderest whisper thrills rebuke?
"The beggar-boy was mine!"
J. W. H.
We must go back a little to tell another story.
In the winter of 1870-71 the Republic of Santo Domingo sent through its president an urgent request for annexation to the United States.
President Grant appointed a commission to visit this island republic, to inquire into its conditions and report upon the question. Of this commission Dr. Howe was one, the others being Messrs. Benjamin Wade and Andrew D. White.
The commissioners sailed on the government steamer Tennessee. At parting the Doctor said, "Remember that you cannot hear from us under a month; so do not be frightened at our long silence."
A week later came reports of a severe storm in the Southern seas. A large steamer had been seen struggling with wind and wave, apparently at their mercy. Some newspaper thought it might be the Tennessee. All the newspapers took up the cry: it probably _was_ the Tennessee; most likely she had foundered and gone down with all on board.