The History of the Women's Suffrage: The Flame Ignites. Susan B. Anthony
Utah and Idaho. The back of the flag bears this inscription: 'Miss Anthony. From the ladies of Wyoming, who love and revere you. Many happy returns of the day. 1820-1900.' We hope you may live to see all the common stars turn into diamonds. With kindly greetings from Wyoming I present you this expression of her esteem."
Mrs. Shafroth, wife of the Representative from Colorado, presented a gift designed and made by the women of her State, saying: "It is with great pleasure that I bring you the greeting from the sun-kissed land of the West, where the flag which we all love, and of which we all sing, really waves over the land of the free and the home of the brave. Our men are brave and generous and our women are free. You and your noble co-workers stormed the heights of ridicule and prejudice to win this freedom for woman. In behalf of our Non-Partisan Equal Suffrage Association, I beg you to accept this 'loving cup' of Colorado silver."
Mrs. Emily S. Richards brought the affectionate greetings of the women of Utah, and Mrs. Chapman Catt referred to the loving testimonials which had been sent by the Idaho women.133 Then after an exquisite violin solo by Mr. Douglass, she said: "The liberties of the citizens of the future will be still more an outgrowth of this movement than those of the present," and to the delighted surprise of the audience the following scene occurred, as described by the Post:
The most beautiful and touching part of the program was when eighty little children, boys and girls, passed in single file across the stage, each bearing a rose. Slowly they marched, keeping time to music, and, as they reached the spot where Miss Anthony sat, each child deposited a blossom in her lap, a rose for every year. It was a surprise so complete, so wonderfully beautiful, that for a few moments she could do nothing more than grasp the hand of each child. Then she began kissing the little people, and the applause which greeted this act was deafening. The roses were distributed among the pioneers at the close of the exercises by her request.
Mrs. Coonley-Ward of Chicago gave an eloquent poem, entitled Love's Rosary, which closed as follows:
Behold our Queen! Surely with heart elate
At homage given to her love and power,
World-famed associate of the wise and great,
She is herself the woman of the hour.
How kindly have the years all dealt with her!
She proves that Bible promises are true;
She waited on the Lord without demur,
And He failed not her courage to renew.
Oft on the wings of eagles she uprose;
On mercy's errands have her glad feet run;
And yet no sign of weariness she shows;
She does not faint, but works from sun to sun.
Deep in her eyes burn fires of purpose strong;
Her hand upholds the sceptre of God's truth;
Her lips send forth brave words against the wrong;
Glows in her heart the joy of deathless youth.
Kindly and gentle, learned too, and wise;
Lover of home and all the ties of kin;
Gay comrade of the laughing lips and eyes;
Give us new words to sing your praises in.
Yet let us rather now forget to praise,
Remembering only this true friend to greet,
As drawing near by straight and devious ways,
We lay our hearts—love's guerdon—at her feet.
Blow, O ye winds across the oceans, blow!
Go to the hills and prairies of the West!
Haste to the tropics, search the fields of snow,
Let the world's gift to her become your quest.
Shine, sun, through prism of the waterfall,
And build us here a rainbow arch to span
The years, and hold the citadel
Of her abiding work for God and man.
What is the gift, O winds, that ye have brought?
O, sun, what legend shines your arch above?
Ah, they are one, and all things else are naught,
Take them, beloved—they are love, love, love!
Mrs. Blatch spoke eloquently for her mother, saying in part:
I bring to you, Susan B. Anthony, the greetings of your friend and co-worker, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, greetings full of gracious memories. When the cause for which you have worked shall be victorious, then as is the way of the world, will it be forgotten that it ever meant effort or struggle for pioneers; but the friendship of you two women will remain a precious memory in the world's history, unforgotten and unforgettable. Your lives have proved not only that women can work strenuously together without jealousy, but that they can be friends in times of sunshine and peace, of stress and storm. No mere fair-weather friends have you been to each other.
Does not Emerson say that friendship is the slowest fruit in the garden of God? The fruit of friendship between you two has grown through half a hundred years, each year making it more beautiful, more mellow, more sweet. But you have not been weak echoes of each other; nay, often for the good of each you were thorns in the side. Yet disagreement only quickened loyalty. Supplementing each other, companionship drew out the best in each. You have both been urged to untiring efforts through the sympathy, the help of each other. You have attained the highest achievement in demonstrating a lofty, an ideal friendship. This friendship of you two women is the benediction for our century.
The last and tenderest tribute was offered by the Rev. Anna Howard Shaw who said, in rich, musical accents and with a manner which seemed almost to be inspired, what can only be most inadequately reported:
A little over a hundred years ago there came men who told us what freedom is and what freemen may become. Later women with the same love of it in their hearts said, "There is no sex in freedom. Whatever it makes possible for men it will make possible for women." A few of these daring souls went forth to blaze the path. Gradually the sunlight of freedom shone in their faces and they encouraged others to follow. They went slowly for the way was hard. They must make the path and it was a weary task. Sometimes darkness settled over them and they must grope their way. Mott, Stanton, Stone, Anthony—not one retraced her footsteps. The two who are left still stand on the summit, great, glorious figures. We ask, "Is the way difficult?" They answer, "Yes, but the sun shines on us and in the valley they know nothing of its glory. Their cry we hear and are calling back to those who are still in the valley."
Leader, comrade, friend, no name can express what you are to us. You might have led us as commander, and we might have followed and obeyed, but there still might have been wanting the divine force of unchanging love. We look up to the sunlight where you stand and say, "We are coming." When we shall be fourscore we shall still be calling to you, "We are coming," for you will still be beckoning us on as you climb still loftier heights. Souls like yours can never rest in all the eternities of God.
Then a hush fell on the people and all waited for Miss Anthony. During the afternoon she had been sitting in a large armchair that was almost covered by her cloak of royal purple velvet which she had thrown over it, the white satin lining forming a lovely background for her finely-shaped head with its halo of silver hair. No one ever had seen her so moved as on this occasion when her memory must have carried her back to the days of bare halls, hostile audiences, ridicule, abuse, loneliness and ostracism by all but a very few staunch friends. "Would she be able to speak?" many in the audience asked themselves, but the nearest friends waited calmly and without anxiety. They never had known her to fail. The result was thus described:
For a moment after gaining her feet, Miss Anthony stood battling with her emotions, but her indomitable courage conquered, and she smiled at the audience as it rose to greet her. She wore a gown of black duchesse satin with vest and revers