day. One morning she said
abruptly, ``Anna, let's
go and call on President M. Carey Thomas, of
Bryn Mawr.''
I wrote a note to Miss Thomas, telling her of Miss
Anthony's desire to see her, and received an im-
mediate reply
inviting us to
luncheon the following
day. We found Miss Thomas deep in the work
connected with her new college buildings, over which
she showed us with much pride. Miss Anthony, of
course, gloried in the splendid results Miss Thomas
had achieved, but she was, for her,
strangely silent
and
preoccupied. At
luncheon she said:
``Miss Thomas, your buildings are beautiful;
your new library is a
marvel; but they are not the
cause of our presence here.''
``No,'' Miss Thomas said; ``I know you have
something on your mind. I am
waiting for you to
tell me what it is.''
``We want your co-operation, and that of Miss
Garrett,'' began Miss Anthony,
promptly, ``to make
our Baltimore Convention a success. We want you
to
persuade the Arundel Club of Baltimore, the
most
fashionable club in the city, to give a recep-
tion to the delegates; and we want you to arrange
a college night on the programme--a great college
night, with the best college speakers ever brought
together.''
These were large commissions for two extremely
busy women, but both Miss Thomas and Miss
Garrett--realizing Miss Anthony's
intense earnest-
ness--promised to think over the suggestions and
see what they could do. The next morning we re-
ceived a
telegram from them stating that Miss
Thomas would arrange the college evening, and that
Miss Garrett would reopen her Baltimore home,
which she had closed, during the convention. She
also invited Miss Anthony and me to be her guests
there, and added that she would try to arrange the
reception by the Arundel Club.
``Aunt Susan'' was overjoyed. I have never seen
her happier than she was over the
receipt of that
telegram. She knew that
whatever Miss Thomas
and Miss Garrett
undertook would be accomplished,
and she
rightly regarded the success of the conven-
tion as already
assured. Her expectations were
more than realized. The college evening was un-
doubtedly the most
brilliant occasion of its kind
ever arranged for a convention. President Ira
Remsen of Johns Hopkins University presided, and
addresses were made by President Mary E. Woolley
of Mount Holyoke, Professor Lucy Salmon of Vassar,
Professor Mary Jordan of Smith, President Thomas
herself, and many others.
From
beginning to end the convention was prob-
ably the most
notable yet held in our history.
Julia Ward Howe and her daughter, Florence Howe
Hall, were also guests of Miss Garrett, who, more-
over, entertained all the speakers of ``College Night.''
Miss Anthony, now eighty-six, arrived in Baltimore
quite ill, and Mrs. Howe, who was ninety, was taken
ill soon after she reached there. The two great
women made a
dramatic exchange on the programme,
for on the first night, when Miss Anthony was un-
able to speak, Mrs. Howe took her place, and on the
second night, when Mrs. Howe had succumbed,
Miss Anthony had recovered
sufficiently to appear
for her. Clara Barton was also an honored figure
at the convention, and Miss Anthony's joy in the
presence of all these old and dear friends was over-
flowing. With them, too, were the younger women,
ready to take up and carry on the work the old
leaders were laying down; and ``Aunt Susan,'' as
she surveyed them all, felt like a general whose
superb army is passing in
review before him.
At the close of the college programme, when the
final address had been made by Miss Thomas, Miss
Anthony rose and in a few words expressed her
feeling that her life-work was done, and her con-
sciousness of the near approach of the end. After
that night she was
unable to appear, and was indeed
so ill that she was confined to her bed in Miss Gar-
rett's most
hospitable home. Nothing could have
been more
thoughtful or more beautiful than the
care Miss Garrett and Miss Thomas bestowed on her.
They engaged for her one of the best physicians in
Baltimore, who, in turn, consulted with the leading
specialists of Johns Hopkins, and they also secured
a trained nurse. This final attention required
special tact, for Miss Anthony's fear of ``giving
trouble'' was so great that she was not
willing to
have a nurse. The nurse,
therefore, wore a house-
maid's uniform, and ``Aunt Susan'' remained
whollyun
conscious that she was being cared for by one of
the best nurses in the famous hospital.
Between sessions of the convention I used to
sit by ``Aunt Susan's'' bed and tell her what was
going on. She was
triumphant over the immense
success of the convention, but it was clear that
she was still worrying over the details of future
work. One day at
luncheon Miss Thomas asked
me, casually:
``By the way, how do you raise the money to
carry on your work?''
When I told her the work was
wholly dependent
on
voluntary contributions and on the services of
those who were
willing to give themselves gratui-
tously to it, Miss Thomas was greatly surprised.
She and Miss Garrett asked a number of practical
questions, and at the end of our talk they looked at
each other.
``I don't think,'' said Miss Thomas, ``that we have
quite done our duty in this matter.''
The next day they invited a number of us to
dinner, to again discuss the situation; and they
admitted that they had sat up throughout the
previous night, talking the matter over and trying
to find some way to help us. They had also dis-
cussed the situation with Miss Anthony, to her vast
content, and had finally
decided that they would
try to raise a fund of $60,000, to be paid in yearly
instalments of $12,000 for five years--part of these
annual instalments to be used as salaries for the
active officers.
The mere mention of so large a fund startled us
all. We feared that it could not possibly be raised.
But Miss Anthony
plainly believed that now the
last great wish of her life had been granted. She
was convinced that Miss Thomas and Miss Gar-
rett could accomplish anything--even the miracle
of raising $60,000 for the
suffrage cause--and they
did, though ``Aunt Susan'' was not here to glory
over the result when they had achieved it.
On the 15th of February we left Baltimore for
Washington, where Miss Anthony was to cele-
brate her eighty-sixth birthday. For many years
the National American Woman Suffrage Associa-
tion had
celebrated our birthdays together, as hers
came on the 15th of the month and mine on the
14th. There had been an especially
festivebanquetwhen she was seventy-four and I was forty-seven,
and our friends had decorated the table with floral
``4's'' and ``7's''--the centerpiece representing ``74''
during the first half of the
banquet, and ``47'' the
latter half. This time ``Aunt Susan'' should not
have attempted the Washington
celebration, for she
was still ill and exhausted by the
strain of the con-
vention. But
standing" target="_blank" title="prep.&conj.虽然;还是">
notwithstanding her
sufferings and
the warnings of her physicians, she insisted on being
present; so Miss Garrett sent the trained nurse to
Washington with her, and we all tried to make the jour-
ney the least possible
strain on the patient's vitality.
On our
arrival in Washington we went to the
Shoreham, where, as always, the
proprietor took pains
to give Miss Anthony a room with a view of the
Washington
monument, which she greatly admired.
When I entered her room a little later I found her
standing at a window,
holding herself up with hands
braced against the
casement on either side, and so
absorbed in the view that she did not hear my ap-
proach. When I spoke to her she answered with-
out turning her head.
``That,'' she said,
softly, ``is the most beautiful
monument in the world.''
I stood by her side, and together we looked at it
in silence I realizing with a sick heart that ``Aunt
Susan'' knew she was
seeing it for the last time.
The birthday
celebration that followed our exec-
utive meeting was an
impressive one. It was held
in the Church of Our Father, whose
pastor, the Rev.
John Van Schaick, had always been
exceedingly kind
to Miss Anthony. Many
prominent men spoke.
President Roosevelt and other statesmen sent most
friendly letters, and William H. Taft had promised to
be present. He did not come, nor did he, then or
later, send any excuse for not coming--an omission
that greatly disappointed Miss Anthony, who had
always admired him. I presided at the meeting,
and though we all did our best to make it gay, a
strange hush hung over the assemblage a solemn
stillness, such as one feels in the presence of death.
We became more and more
conscious that Miss
Anthony was
suffering, and we hastened the exer-
cises all we could. When I read President Roose-
velt's long
tribute to her, Miss Anthony rose to
comment on it.
``One word from President Roosevelt in his mes-
sage to Congress,'' she said, a little
wearily, ``would
be worth a thousand eulogies of Susan B. Anthony.
When will men learn that what we ask is not praise,
but justice?''
At the close of the meeting, realizing how weak
she was, I begged her to let me speak for her. But
she again rose, rested her hand on my shoulder,
and,
standing by my side, uttered the last words
she ever spoke in public, pleading with women to
consecrate themselves to the Cause, assuring them
that no power could prevent its
ultimate success,
but reminding them also that the time of its coming
would depend
wholly on their work and their loyalty.
She ended with three words--very
fitting words
from her lips, expressing as they did the spirit of her