Julia Ward Howe

by Harriet A. Townsend, 1916

"We hold the years in our hearts and all that was is yet," sings the poet.

To have been associated with such women as Julia Ward Howe, Susan B. Anthony, and Frances E. Willard was a rare privilege and one longs to recall the delights and experiences of such friendships and to share them with others. We do not need to write in detail the lives and achievements of women whose names are as household words in our own and other lands, but the different and personal views may seem worth while.

My first acquaintance with Mrs. Howe began in the early 80's when the Association for the Advancement of Women held its ninth Congress in my home city and I served as chairman of the committee to receive the distinguished guest. Such a galaxy of names as crowned the board of the famous organization at that time! Julia Ward Howe, president; Kate Gannett Wells, secretary; Henrietta L. T. Wolcott, treasurer; and among the directors Maria Mitchell, Mary A. Livermore, Abby W. May, Mary F. Eastman, Sophia Curtis Hoffman, Frances E. Willard and Ednah D. Cheney. In those days women needed to be awakened to a sense of their own power and that woman's meeting proved a glorious inspiration. The program was wonderful and the topics were varied. The ideal home, temperature, factory girls, influence of foreign study on American girls, the legal status of women, rescue work, political education and other problems were ably presented and discussed. Mrs. Howe was the perfect presiding officer, ever ready to open or close the debate and unsurpassed in wise and witty epigram.

There was an unusual sense of comradeship about the A. A. W. women, delightful to recognize, each strong in her own convictions, but ever ready to listen and defer; Ms. Howe was the gentlewoman born, the peacemaker when needed, the queen bee of every gathering. For twenty-five years the Association for the Advancement of Women was a power for practical idealism. It went from state to state, north, south, east and west, and the women who came under its vivifying influence were never the same again.

"A sower of infinite seed was it." When it was succeeded by the General Federation of Women's Club its work was not done and the harvest is still plentiful.

Two buffalo women, Miss Ella C. Lapham, a Vassar graduate, and Mrs. Lily Lord Tifft, gave loyal service as secretaries of the Association for the Advancement of Women in later years.

Wherever a congress met, Mrs. Howe was the center of attraction. All paid homage to the writer of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic." At a meeting held in Chicago a memorable banquet was given at the Palmer House; it was a feast of reason and flow of soul. The Governor of Illinois gave the welcome; Clara Barton was there and responded to a toast; many distinguished authors, artists and musicians honored the occasion. The words of the "Battle Hymn" were printed on the menu cards; and at the close when an unrivaled orchestra struck the opening chords of the hymn, all arose and joined in singing. The effect was marvelous. The negro waiters sang gloriously, the melody of their rich southern voices was plainly heard; they all knew the "Battle Hymn" and gave a triumphant note to the song. "The truth is marching on" was on every tongue and every heart paid tribute to the woman whose patriotism and genius inspired the immortal hymn. Touched to tears. Mrs. Howe told the story of the birth of her hymn and received one of the most remarkable ovations of her eventful life.

As our friendship grew, I had many memorable visits with Mrs. Howe. She came to our city again and again, gave there delightful talks about her friends, Emerson, Longfellow, Lowell, Holmes and Whittier. She was a charming guest; never to weary to give freely of her wealth of travel and culture, she entertained her hosts with endearing charm of personality hard to portray. Once she played the piano and sang for us songs improvised for her grandchildren. Every visit was like a benediction, "A jewel for the diving bell of memory."

Many delightful stories were told; one of the New England Women's Club of which Mrs. Howe was long the president. The club had a custom of holding fun days, on which no member of that august body was permitted to speak a sensible word; nothing but nonsense prevailed. Mrs. Howe, the soul of humor, was irresistible on fun days. her wit scintillated and illumined the club. One year she conceived the idea of inviting one man, not telling him that he was to be the only male guest, nor to be made the butt of every joke. Longfellow and Lowell had accepted and never told the secret; Mrs. Howe longed for Mr. Emerson, but how to get him was the question. Our philosopher never attended women's banquets. That part was left with his daughter, who was a member of the club. "Father" she asked one wintry Monday morning, "are you going to Boston today, and will you call for me at the club at 5 o'clock?"

"Yes," was the welcome answer, "but be near the door, I would not wish to go in."

At the appointed time Mrs. Howe was at the door and greeted Mr. Emerson with "Yes, your daughter is here, but we are just going to have a cup of tea and want you to join us." Before he could object Mr. Emerson and Mrs. Howe were seated side by side at the head of a long table, the members of the club into their seats and the banquet began. When it was served Mrs. Howe arose, struck the gavel and there followed one of her charming introductory speeches. She said: "We have with us today as our guest of honor, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson; he has unhitched his wagon from a star and is here to instruct and inspire us. Club members, I ask you to do honor in all that you say by a full appreciation of his immortal genius."

Mrs. Livermore responded with a criticism on the essay, "Nature," such as never was heard before. Next a club poet parodied "The Rhodora." Another member commented on the "Over Soul" and as not a serious word was spoken by one of the gifted women one can imagine the hilarious applause that greeted each effort.

Mr. Emerson enjoyed every new hit and laughed heartily at his own expense. When the speaking was over. Mrs. Howe turned to her guest and awaited his response. Mr. Emerson arose and with his most dignified manner made a low bow. Not a word did he say. Good-byes were passed and the fun day was over.

At the next meeting of the club, Miss Emerson was eagerly questioned. She said, "It was late when we hurried to the station; no comments were made. In the evening when my father was seated in his library in front of the fire, he turned to me and said; Mrs. Julia Ward Howe ia a very clever woman." Mr. Emerson was always equal to the problem.

Mrs. Howe was an ardent suffragist and very strong in her arguments in favor of the ballot for women. I acknowledged that woman has a right to the ballot, but refused to admit that just laws for our sex depended entirely upon it. One day after a mid-year conference of the A.A.W. held in Baltimore, we discussed the topic for an hour. I remarked in a jovial way, "It is though that interest in the suffrage cause is failing." The same night there was a fine reception given in Washington for the National Woman's Suffrage Association. Struggling in the crowd to reach Mrs. Howe, as I clasped her hand, she said, pointing to the mass of men and women assembled; "Interest in Woman's suffrage is dying out, you see?" I answered, "Interest in Julia Ward Howe and Susan B. Anthony will never die."

If all the bright saying of Mrs. Howe had been preserved, we would have had a treasure worth while; she held the reputation of being the wittiest woman in America. I once heard someone remark in her hearing on the fine personality of Mary F. Eastman, the noted Massachusetts suffrage orator. As quick as a flash Mrs. Howe responded: "Miss Eastman reminds me of a Doric column with a Corinthian capital." What more matchless compliment could any woman desire?

Julia Ward Howe lived for nearly a century, giving help to the helpless, cheer to the sorrowing, freedom to the oppressed, raising and broadening womanhood wherever she went. When the warm heart was stilled and the busy hands folded, every good cause and every woman had lost a friend.

Rare gifts had she with power
To "witness for the soul;"
Thro long years, day and hour,
Climbing ever to the goal.

Discuss in my forum

• julia ward howe
• harriet townsend
• women's suffrage
• women's rights