章节正文
Bright, and her daughter. Some remarkable and,
to me, most amusing discussions took place among
the three; but often, during Mrs. Besant's most sus-
tained oratorical flights, Miss Anthony's interest
would wander, and she would drop a remark that
showed she had not heard a word. She had a great
admiration for Mrs. Besant's intellect; but she dis-
approved of her flowing and picturesque white robes,
of her bare feet, of her incessant cigarette-smoking;
above all, of her views. At last, one day.{sic} the climax
of the discussions came.
``Annie,'' demanded ``Aunt Susan,'' ``why don't
you make that aura of yours do its gallivanting in
this world, looking up the needs of the oppressed,
and investigating the causes of present wrongs?
Then you could reveal to us workers just what we
should do to put things right, and we could be
about it.''
Mrs. Besant sighed and said that life was short
and aeons were long, and that while every one would
be perfected some time, it was useless to deal with
individuals here.
``But, Annie!'' exclaimed Miss Anthony, patheti-
cally. ``We ARE here! Our business is here! It's
our duty to do what we can here.''
Mrs. Besant seemed not to hear her. She was in
a trance, gazing into the aeons.
``I'd rather have one year of your ability, backed
up with common sense, for the work of making this
world better,'' cried the exasperated ``Aunt Susan,''
``than a million aeons in the hereafter!''
Mrs. Besant sighed again. It was plain that she
could not bring herself back from the other world,
so Miss Anthony, perforce, accompanied her to it.
``When your aura goes visiting in the other
world,'' she asked, curiously, ``does it ever meet
your old friend Charles Bradlaugh?''
``Oh yes,'' declared Mrs. Besant. ``Frequently.''
``Wasn't he very much surprised,'' demanded Miss
Anthony, with growing interest, ``to discover that he
was not dead?''
Mrs. Besant did not seem to know what emotion
Mr. Bradlaugh had experienced when that revela-
tion came.
``Well,'' mused ``Aunt Susan,'' ``I should think
he would have been surprised. He was so certain
he was going to be dead that it must have been
astounding to discover he wasn't. What was he
doing in the other world?''
Mrs. Besant heaved a deeper sigh. ``I am very
much discouraged over Mr. Bradlaugh,'' she ad-
mitted, wanly. `` He is hovering too near this
world. He cannot seem to get away from his mun-
dane interests. He is as much concerned with par-
liamentary affairs now as when he was on this
plane.''
``Humph!'' said Miss Anthony; ``that's the most
sensible thing I've heard yet about the other world.
It encourages me. I've always felt sure that if I
entered the other life before women were enfran-
chised nothing in the glories of heaven would in-
terest me so much as the work for women's freedom
on earth. Now,'' she ended, ``I shall be like Mr.
Bradlaugh. I shall hover round and continue my
work here.''
When Mrs. Besant had left the room Mrs. Bright
felt that it was her duty to admonish ``Aunt Susan''
to be more careful in what she said.
``You are making too light of her creed,'' she ex-
postulated. ``You do not realize the important
position Mrs. Besant holds. Why, in India, when
she walks from her home to her school all those she
meets prostrate themselves. Even the learned men
prostrate themselves and put their faces on the
ground as she goes by.''
``Aunt Susan's'' voice, when she replied, took on
the tones of one who is sorely tried. ``But why in
Heaven's name does any sensible Englishwoman
want a lot of heathen to prostrate themselves as she
goes up the street?'' she demanded, wearily. ``It's
the most foolish thing I ever heard.''
The effort to win Miss Anthony over to the theo-
sophical doctrine was abandoned. That night, after
we had gone to our rooms, ``Aunt Susan'' summed up
her conclusions on the interview:
``It's a good thing for the world,'' she declared,
``that some of us don't know so much. And it's a
better thing for this world that some of us think a
little earthly common sense is more valuable than
too much heavenly knowledge.''
X
THE PASSING OF ``AUNT SUSAN''
On one occasion Miss Anthony had the doubt-
ful pleasure of reading her own obituary notices,
and her interest in them was characteristically naive.
She had made a speech at Lakeside, Ohio, during
which, for the first time in her long experience, she
fainted on the platform. I was not with her at the
time, and in the excitement following her collapse
it was rumored that she had died. Immediately
the news was telegraphed to the Associated Press
of New York, and from there flashed over the
country. At Miss Anthony's home in Rochester a
reporter rang the bell and abruptly informed her
sister, Miss Mary Anthony, who came to the door,
that ``Aunt Susan'' was dead. Fortunately Miss
Mary had a cool head.
``I think,'' she said, ``that if my sister had died
I would have heard about it. Please have your
editors telegraph to Lakeside.''
The reporterdeparted, but came back an hour
later to say that his newspaper had sent the tele-
gram and the reply was that Susan B. Anthony was
dead.
``I have just received a better telegram than that,''
remarked Mary Anthony. `` Mine is from my
sister; she tells me that she fainted to-night, but
soon recovered and will be home to-morrow.''
Nevertheless, the next morning the American
newspapers gave much space to Miss Anthony's
obituary notices, and ``Aunt Susan'' spent some in-
teresting hours reading them. One that pleased her
vastly was printed in the Wichita Eagle, whose editor,
Mr. Murdock, had been almost her bitterest op-
ponent. He had often exhausted his brilliant vo-
cabulary in editorial denunciations of suffrage and
suffragists, and Miss Anthony had been the special
target of his scorn. But the news of her death seemed
to be a bitter blow to him; and of all the tributes
the American press gave to Susan B. Anthony dead,
few equaled in beauty and appreciation the one
penned by Mr. Murdock and published in the Eagle.
He must have been amused when, a few days later,
he received a letter from ``Aunt Susan'' herself,
thanking him warmly for his changed opinion of her
and hoping that it meant the conversion of his soul
to our Cause. It did not, and Mr. Murdock, though
never again quite as bitter as he had been, soon
resumed the free editorial expression of his anti-
suffrage sentiments. Times have changed, however,
and to-day his son, now a member of Congress, is
one of our strongest supporters in that body.
In 1905 it became plain that Miss Anthony's
health was failing. Her visits to Germany and
England the previous year, triumphant though they
had been, had also proved a drain on her vitality;
and soon after her return to America she entered
upon a task which helped to exhaust her remaining
strength. She had been deeply interested in se-
curing a fund of $50,000 to enable women to enter
Rochester University, and, one morning, just after
we had held a session of our executive committee
in her Rochester home, she read a newspaper an-
nouncement to the effect that at four o'clock that
afternoon the opportunity to admit women to the
university would expire, as the full fifty thousand
dollars had not been raised. The sum of eight
thousand dollars was still lacking.
With characteristicenergy, Miss Anthony under-
took to save the situation by raising this amount
within the time limit. Rushing to the telephone,
she called a cab and prepared to go forth on her
difficult quest; but first, while she was putting on
her hat and coat, she insisted that her sister, Mary
Anthony, should start the fund by contributing one
thousand dollars from her meager savings, and this
Miss Mary did. ``Aunt Susan'' made every second
count that day, and by half after three o'clock she
had secured the necessary pledges. Several of the
trustees of the university, however, had not seemed
especially anxious to have the fund raised, and at
the last moment they objected to one pledge for a
thousand dollars, on the ground that the man who
had given it was very old and might die before the
time set to pay it; then his family, they feared,
might repudiate the obligation. Without a word
Miss Anthony seized the pledge and wrote her name
across it as an indorsement. ``I am good for it,''
she then said, quietly, ``if the gentleman who signed
it is not.''
That afternoon she returned home greatly fa-
tigued. A few hours later the girl students who
had been waitingadmission to the university came
to serenade her in recognition of her successful work
for them, but she was too ill to see them. She was
passing through the first stage of what proved to
be her final breakdown.
In 1906, when the date of the annual convention of
the National American Woman Suffrage Association
in Baltimore was drawing near, she became convinced
that it would be her last convention. She was right.
She showed a passionateeagerness to make it one
of the greatest conventions ever held in the history
of the movement; and we, who loved her and saw
that the flame of her life was burning low, also bent
all our energies to the task of realizing her hopes.
In November preceding the convention she visited me
and her niece, Miss Lucy Anthony, in our home in
Mount Airy, Philadelphia, and it was clear that her
anxiety over the convention was weighing heavily
upon her. She visibly lost strength from day to
to me, most amusing discussions took place among
the three; but often, during Mrs. Besant's most sus-
tained oratorical flights, Miss Anthony's interest
would wander, and she would drop a remark that
showed she had not heard a word. She had a great
admiration for Mrs. Besant's intellect; but she dis-
approved of her flowing and picturesque white robes,
of her bare feet, of her incessant cigarette-smoking;
above all, of her views. At last, one day.{sic} the climax
of the discussions came.
``Annie,'' demanded ``Aunt Susan,'' ``why don't
you make that aura of yours do its gallivanting in
this world, looking up the needs of the oppressed,
and investigating the causes of present wrongs?
Then you could reveal to us workers just what we
should do to put things right, and we could be
about it.''
Mrs. Besant sighed and said that life was short
and aeons were long, and that while every one would
be perfected some time, it was useless to deal with
individuals here.
``But, Annie!'' exclaimed Miss Anthony, patheti-
cally. ``We ARE here! Our business is here! It's
our duty to do what we can here.''
Mrs. Besant seemed not to hear her. She was in
a trance, gazing into the aeons.
``I'd rather have one year of your ability, backed
up with common sense, for the work of making this
world better,'' cried the exasperated ``Aunt Susan,''
``than a million aeons in the hereafter!''
Mrs. Besant sighed again. It was plain that she
could not bring herself back from the other world,
so Miss Anthony, perforce, accompanied her to it.
``When your aura goes visiting in the other
world,'' she asked, curiously, ``does it ever meet
your old friend Charles Bradlaugh?''
``Oh yes,'' declared Mrs. Besant. ``Frequently.''
``Wasn't he very much surprised,'' demanded Miss
Anthony, with growing interest, ``to discover that he
was not dead?''
Mrs. Besant did not seem to know what emotion
Mr. Bradlaugh had experienced when that revela-
tion came.
``Well,'' mused ``Aunt Susan,'' ``I should think
he would have been surprised. He was so certain
he was going to be dead that it must have been
astounding to discover he wasn't. What was he
doing in the other world?''
Mrs. Besant heaved a deeper sigh. ``I am very
much discouraged over Mr. Bradlaugh,'' she ad-
mitted, wanly. `` He is hovering too near this
world. He cannot seem to get away from his mun-
dane interests. He is as much concerned with par-
liamentary affairs now as when he was on this
plane.''
``Humph!'' said Miss Anthony; ``that's the most
sensible thing I've heard yet about the other world.
It encourages me. I've always felt sure that if I
entered the other life before women were enfran-
chised nothing in the glories of heaven would in-
terest me so much as the work for women's freedom
on earth. Now,'' she ended, ``I shall be like Mr.
Bradlaugh. I shall hover round and continue my
work here.''
When Mrs. Besant had left the room Mrs. Bright
felt that it was her duty to admonish ``Aunt Susan''
to be more careful in what she said.
``You are making too light of her creed,'' she ex-
postulated. ``You do not realize the important
position Mrs. Besant holds. Why, in India, when
she walks from her home to her school all those she
meets prostrate themselves. Even the learned men
prostrate themselves and put their faces on the
ground as she goes by.''
``Aunt Susan's'' voice, when she replied, took on
the tones of one who is sorely tried. ``But why in
Heaven's name does any sensible Englishwoman
want a lot of heathen to prostrate themselves as she
goes up the street?'' she demanded, wearily. ``It's
the most foolish thing I ever heard.''
The effort to win Miss Anthony over to the theo-
sophical doctrine was abandoned. That night, after
we had gone to our rooms, ``Aunt Susan'' summed up
her conclusions on the interview:
``It's a good thing for the world,'' she declared,
``that some of us don't know so much. And it's a
better thing for this world that some of us think a
little earthly common sense is more valuable than
too much heavenly knowledge.''
X
THE PASSING OF ``AUNT SUSAN''
On one occasion Miss Anthony had the doubt-
ful pleasure of reading her own obituary notices,
and her interest in them was characteristically naive.
She had made a speech at Lakeside, Ohio, during
which, for the first time in her long experience, she
fainted on the platform. I was not with her at the
time, and in the excitement following her collapse
it was rumored that she had died. Immediately
the news was telegraphed to the Associated Press
of New York, and from there flashed over the
country. At Miss Anthony's home in Rochester a
reporter rang the bell and abruptly informed her
sister, Miss Mary Anthony, who came to the door,
that ``Aunt Susan'' was dead. Fortunately Miss
Mary had a cool head.
``I think,'' she said, ``that if my sister had died
I would have heard about it. Please have your
editors telegraph to Lakeside.''
The reporterdeparted, but came back an hour
later to say that his newspaper had sent the tele-
gram and the reply was that Susan B. Anthony was
dead.
``I have just received a better telegram than that,''
remarked Mary Anthony. `` Mine is from my
sister; she tells me that she fainted to-night, but
soon recovered and will be home to-morrow.''
Nevertheless, the next morning the American
newspapers gave much space to Miss Anthony's
obituary notices, and ``Aunt Susan'' spent some in-
teresting hours reading them. One that pleased her
vastly was printed in the Wichita Eagle, whose editor,
Mr. Murdock, had been almost her bitterest op-
ponent. He had often exhausted his brilliant vo-
cabulary in editorial denunciations of suffrage and
suffragists, and Miss Anthony had been the special
target of his scorn. But the news of her death seemed
to be a bitter blow to him; and of all the tributes
the American press gave to Susan B. Anthony dead,
few equaled in beauty and appreciation the one
penned by Mr. Murdock and published in the Eagle.
He must have been amused when, a few days later,
he received a letter from ``Aunt Susan'' herself,
thanking him warmly for his changed opinion of her
and hoping that it meant the conversion of his soul
to our Cause. It did not, and Mr. Murdock, though
never again quite as bitter as he had been, soon
resumed the free editorial expression of his anti-
suffrage sentiments. Times have changed, however,
and to-day his son, now a member of Congress, is
one of our strongest supporters in that body.
In 1905 it became plain that Miss Anthony's
health was failing. Her visits to Germany and
England the previous year, triumphant though they
had been, had also proved a drain on her vitality;
and soon after her return to America she entered
upon a task which helped to exhaust her remaining
strength. She had been deeply interested in se-
curing a fund of $50,000 to enable women to enter
Rochester University, and, one morning, just after
we had held a session of our executive committee
in her Rochester home, she read a newspaper an-
nouncement to the effect that at four o'clock that
afternoon the opportunity to admit women to the
university would expire, as the full fifty thousand
dollars had not been raised. The sum of eight
thousand dollars was still lacking.
With characteristicenergy, Miss Anthony under-
took to save the situation by raising this amount
within the time limit. Rushing to the telephone,
she called a cab and prepared to go forth on her
difficult quest; but first, while she was putting on
her hat and coat, she insisted that her sister, Mary
Anthony, should start the fund by contributing one
thousand dollars from her meager savings, and this
Miss Mary did. ``Aunt Susan'' made every second
count that day, and by half after three o'clock she
had secured the necessary pledges. Several of the
trustees of the university, however, had not seemed
especially anxious to have the fund raised, and at
the last moment they objected to one pledge for a
thousand dollars, on the ground that the man who
had given it was very old and might die before the
time set to pay it; then his family, they feared,
might repudiate the obligation. Without a word
Miss Anthony seized the pledge and wrote her name
across it as an indorsement. ``I am good for it,''
she then said, quietly, ``if the gentleman who signed
it is not.''
That afternoon she returned home greatly fa-
tigued. A few hours later the girl students who
had been waitingadmission to the university came
to serenade her in recognition of her successful work
for them, but she was too ill to see them. She was
passing through the first stage of what proved to
be her final breakdown.
In 1906, when the date of the annual convention of
the National American Woman Suffrage Association
in Baltimore was drawing near, she became convinced
that it would be her last convention. She was right.
She showed a passionateeagerness to make it one
of the greatest conventions ever held in the history
of the movement; and we, who loved her and saw
that the flame of her life was burning low, also bent
all our energies to the task of realizing her hopes.
In November preceding the convention she visited me
and her niece, Miss Lucy Anthony, in our home in
Mount Airy, Philadelphia, and it was clear that her
anxiety over the convention was weighing heavily
upon her. She visibly lost strength from day to
- remarkable [ri´mɑ:kəbl]
a.值得注意的；显著的 (初中英语单词) - wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- useless [´ju:sləs] a.无用的，无价值的 (初中英语单词)
- ability [ə´biliti] n.(办事)能力；才干 (初中英语单词)
- curiously [´kjuəriəsli] ad.好奇地；稀奇古怪地 (初中英语单词)
- sensible [´sensəbəl] a.感觉得到的 (初中英语单词)
- doctrine [´dɔktrin] n.教义；主义；学说 (初中英语单词)
- valuable [´væljuəbəl, -jubəl] a.有价值的，贵重的 (初中英语单词)
- reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- platform [´plætfɔ:m] n.(平)台；讲台；站台 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- abruptly [ə´brʌptli] ad.突然地；粗鲁地 (初中英语单词)
- telegraph [´teligrɑ:f] n.&v.(打)电报；电告 (初中英语单词)
- telegram [´teligræm] n.电报 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- editorial [,edi´tɔ:riəl] a.编辑的 n.社论 (初中英语单词)
- previous [´pri:viəs] a.先，前，以前的 (初中英语单词)
- exhaust [ig´zɔ:st] vt.用尽，使精疲力尽 (初中英语单词)
- enable [i´neibəl] vt.使能够；赋予权力 (初中英语单词)
- executive [ig´zekjutiv] a.行政的 n.行政官 (初中英语单词)
- energy [´enədʒi] n.活力，精力；能力 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- pledge [pledʒ] n.信物；誓约vt.使发誓 (初中英语单词)
- obligation [,ɔbli´geiʃən] n.义务；职责；合约 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- admission [əd´miʃən] n.接纳；承认 (初中英语单词)
- recognition [,rekəg´niʃən] n.认出；认识；承认 (初中英语单词)
- annual [´ænjuəl] a.每年的 n.年刊 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- amusing [ə´mju:ziŋ] a.有趣的 (高中英语单词)
- picturesque [,piktʃə´resk] a.似画的；别致的 (高中英语单词)
- concerned [kən´sə:nd] a.有关的；担心的 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- heathen [´hi:ðən] n.异教徒 (高中英语单词)
- earthly [´ə:θli] a.地球的；世俗的 (高中英语单词)
- heavenly [´hevənli] a.天的，天空的 (高中英语单词)
- fortunately [´fɔ:tʃənətli] ad.幸运地 (高中英语单词)
- reporter [ri´pɔ:tə] n.报告人；记者；广播员 (高中英语单词)
- suffrage [´sʌfridʒ] n.投票(权)，选举权 (高中英语单词)
- appreciation [ə,pri:ʃi´eiʃən] n.评价；感激 (高中英语单词)
- session [´seʃən] n.会议；会期；(开庭)期 (高中英语单词)
- expire [ik´spaiə] vi.终止；截止；死 (高中英语单词)
- characteristic [,kæriktə´ristik] a.特有的 n.特性 (高中英语单词)
- meager [´mi:gə] a.瘦的；贫弱的 (高中英语单词)
- baltimore [´bɔ:ltimɔ:] n.巴尔的摩 (高中英语单词)
- passionate [´pæʃənit] a.易动情的；易怒的 (高中英语单词)
- eagerness [´i:gənis] n.渴望；热忱 (高中英语单词)
- intellect [´intilekt] n.智力；有才智的人 (英语四级单词)
- experienced [ik´spiəriənst] a.有经验的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- admonish [əd´mɔniʃ] vt.训戒；警告；劝告 (英语四级单词)
- prostrate [´prɔstreit, prɔ´streit] a.俯伏的 vt.弄倒 (英语四级单词)
- wearily [´wiərili] ad.疲倦地；厌烦地 (英语四级单词)
- conversion [kən´və:ʃən] n.转化；变换；皈依 (英语四级单词)
- triumphant [trai´ʌmfənt] a.胜利的；洋洋得意的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- preceding [pri(:)´si:diŋ] a.在先的；前面的 (英语四级单词)
- incessant [in´sesənt] a.不断的，不停的 (英语六级单词)
- trance [trɑ:ns] n.恍惚；出神 (英语六级单词)
- sorely [´sɔ:li] ad.痛苦地；剧烈地 (英语六级单词)
- abandoned [ə´bændənd] a.被抛弃的；无约束的 (英语六级单词)
- departed [di´pɑ:tid] a.已往的；已故的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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