NAWSA Subject File Suffrage Plays Cleveland ? ? ? LWV How We Make Them Love Us OR Pitfalls in Politics A Punch and Judy Show By Mary Gray Peck Characters: PUNCH, the old-fashioned voter. JUDY, bride of Punch, the National League of Women Voters. MR. POLITICAL MACHINE, proprietor of the Elephant Dry-Cleaning Outfit and the Donkey Spray Tank. WADFIRST MAYFLOWER, Engineer of the Dry-Cleaning Machine. MIKE TAMMANY, Teamster of the Spray Tank. DIRECT PRIMARY, Friend of Punch. M A J O R VOTE-THE-STRAIGHT-TICKET, Chief of Police. REPUBLICAN LANDSLIDE } Two Escaped Lunatics. DEMOCRATIC LANDSLIDE } TWO ESCAPED LUNATICS. THE DEVIL, followed by Pitfalls. ____________________ TIME, the present. PLACE, home of Punch in the City of Hail Columbia. 1 (Enter to strains of wedding march the newly wed Punch and Judy) PUNCH: At last, my dear Judy, you have succeeded in marry- ing me. This is our happy home, and from now on we shall lead a calm and untroubled life together. JUDY: At any rate, nothing can be more wearing than the courtship was ! PUNCH: You may well say that, dearest ! Seventy years is a long time for any woman to pursue any man. It speaks well for both us. Such constancy is rare in this fickle world. You saw me first in Seneca Falls, N. Y., in 1848. How ro- mantic that meeting seems,- now that I look back on it! JUDY: Punch, for my sake will you not try to stop looking backward on things you once detesting and calling them ro- mantic? PUNCH (Testily): I never detested you. I always adored you. I only pretended to run away from you oin order to in- crease your infatuation. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Judy,- trying to kill romance in me ! JUDY (Soothingly): Forgive me, my dear ! And now tell me what is the name of this town where we are to life? PUNCH: It is called "Hail Columbia." I have lived here all my life. The leading citizens are all old family friends of mine, and they are coming to call upon you today. JUDY (in consternation): If callers are coming, Punch, you must help me straighten up this house, for it is in dreadful dis- order. Come, we must waste no time! (Seizes broom; begins to sweep). PUNCH: O, my dear Judy! You must not soil your hands with that kind of work. We always have professional cleaners in this city. One of my friends runs a political vacuum clean- ing machine. He is going to offer his services when he comes to call. You need not bother your pretty head over putting this house in order. He will attend to all that, while you have noth- ing to do but enjoy yourself. Here he comes now! (Tiptoe- ing up to her and speaking in a low voice.) Say, Jusy, these friends of mine are bachelors, and while they have hearts of gold, they are a little cranky. You will be considerate of them, won't you dear? JUDY: Why, of course I will. I have been well trained in good manners. (Insert name of a prominent local civic woman leader here) ................................................. says, we should approach people in the spirit of love, and they will do anything we ask. Carrie Chapman Catt says, we must appeal to their minds and convince them of the justice of our demands. Maud Wood Park says we must join forces with them, and they will help us in every way. I mean to make all your friends love me like a sister. Have no fear! (Pantomime of engaging cour- tesy and greeting.) That's the way we do it! PUNCH: Judy, you are irresistible! They are going to be captivated. That's the way we do it! Here comes good old Political Machine, now. (Nervously) I'll just let him in, and then I'll run down to the corner drug store to post a letter. You will get acquainted better if I don't stick around. (Exit Punch-Enter Political Machine) POLITICAL MACHINE (Unctuously): What a pleasure it is to welcome to our midst the lovely bridge of our dear old friend Punch! My name, Madam, is Mr. Political Machine (Clears his throat). JUDY (Repeating pantomime of courtesy and greeting): I am happy to meet my husband's friends. POLIT. MACH.: I wish to assist you in every way, Mrs. Judy, in settling down among us. I am proprietor of the Ele- phant Vacuum Dry-Cleaning Outfit, and also of the Donkey Spray Tank. I will be pleased to take charge of cleaning up your premises.- at a moderate figure. JUDY: Your offer is very kind, Mr. Political Machine, but I shall not be obliged to trouble you. I have already made arrangements with a very efficient person to help me clean house. POLIT. MACH. (Dropping his fine manners): The deuce you have! And who have you got, may I ask? JUDY: Mrs. Working Woman. She says she has two or three friends who will help us—Mrs. Consumers' League, Miss Y. W. C. A., Mrs. Federated Clubs, Miss..... (Names of local women's organizations). POLIT. MACH. (Interrupting rudely): Say, lady, I came to make a friendly call, but I see you've got to be put right on a few things. You're a newcomer, and you don't know a whole lot. This Working Woman ain't a friend of mine. We only allow her to work at jobs we don't want. She and these precious cronies of hers you was calling by name just now, have taken a notion lately of going around and offering to do the work I have been doing in this town for years, at about half what I charge and what people always have been willing to pay. Women ain't got no business to underbid men. Besides, this Working Woman has about wore me out with her everlasting fault-finding about HER CHILDREN not being allowed to go to school,—HER CHILDREN being too young to work! (Machine imitates Working Woman's voice.) She's got the nastiest temper of any living thing. JUDY: Poor thing! POLIT. MACH.: Poor thing!—Aw, say!—— But let's get back to cleaning your house. I asked my two foremen, Wadfirst Mayflower, engineer of the Elephant Dry-Cleaning Outfit, and Mike Tammany, driver of the Donkey Spray Tank, to step round and look your premises over, and give you an estimate on putting your house in order. And here they come, right on the dot! (Enter Wadfirst Mayflower and Mike Tammany.) MAYFLOWER and TAMMANY: Here we are, Chief! POLIT. MACH.: Mrs. Judy, meet my foremen, Wadfirst Mayflower and Mike Tammany. (Laughing and slapping Mayflower on the back) Wadfirst wasn't in favor or Punch's marrying you, but he'll clean house for you all right, won't you, Wad? 4 MAYFLOWER: I take my orders from you, Chief. If you say clean her house, I'll clean it. JUDY (Repeating pantomime of greeting sweetly to both foremen): I am very pleased to meet you, gentlemen. Mr. Mayflower, I know it would be painful for you to work in my house, and I have just told Mr. Machine that you need not do it, and Mr. Tammany need not, either. I have the kindest feelings for my dear husband's friends, and I am sure you will see the perfect reasonableness of my cleaning my own house in my own manner. Outside my house, I mean to join forces with you in civic activities. There is much for all of us to do. My teachers at school taught me to be kind, conciliatory, cooperative. POLIT. MACH.: Who were these teachers of yours, lady? JUDY: Mrs. Catt, Maud Wood Park, ...... (Name of the prominent local civic woman leader to be inserted here. POLIT. MACH.: Catt! Ratification Catt! TAMMANY: ..... (Local woman's name). MAYFLOWER: Park! POLIT. MACH., MAYFLOWER and TAMMANY (all speaking at once furiously): These women are criminals ..... (Name local woman) ought to be jailed —Maud Wood Park is trying to put me out of business— Mrs. Catt ought to be hung! They all ought to be hung! Hanging is too good for 'em! (Enter Direct Primary, bursting into the room.) PRIMARY: What's the matter? Is anybody hurt? POLIT. MACH. (Shaking his fist at Judy): Matter enough! This woman is a Bolshevik. MAYFLOWER and TAMMANY ( Starting for Judy): Shut her up! Tie her down! Knock her on the head! PRIMARY (Defending Judy): Hold on, gentlemen! Don't be violent! We have laws and officers of the law in this town! Stand back, I say! 5 (As Primary is fighting Mayflower and Tammany, Political Machine knocks Judy on the head. She drops, then gets on her knees holding her head as the three partners go after Direct Primary). POLIT. MACH.: You caucus bolter! This will finish you! Kill him, boys! DIRECT PRIMARY: You old wind bag, you're the one that's going to get killed! (General scrimmage). JUDY: Help! Police! Murder! Thieves! Robbers! Help! Police! (Rumbling horn-tooting, bell-ringing outside, growing louder). POLIT. MACH.: What's that? (Leaves off attacking Direct Primary.) MAYFLOWER and TAMMANY (Rushing to the door and looking out): Two escaped lunatics! Republican Landslide and Democratic Landslide have broken out of the asylum! POLIT. MACH. (Shouting): Head 'em this way! HEAD 'EM THIS WAY! Then run for your lives, boys! Exit Polit. Mach., Mayflower and Tammany (uproar without). DIRECT PRIMARY (To Judy): Don't you worry! I can handle those crazy fools! (Enter Republican Landslide, wearing elephant's head, covered with streamers, carrying horn, banner, etc. Democratic Landslide wearing donkey's head, ringing bell and braying. They career about the stage, tooting horn, ringing bell, braying, knock Direct Primary and Judy on the head, shouting "That's the way we do it," as each victim falls). REP. LANDSLIDE and DEM. LANDSLIDE (Dancing, trumpeting and braying around prostrate forms of Judy and Direct Primary): WOW! I'm King of the United States! WOW! I'm king of Europe! WOW! I'm King of the world! WOW! I've wiped every damn thing off the may! W-O-O-O-W (Exit amid pandemonium of noise.) 6 (Re-enter tiptoeing, Political Machine, Mayflower and Tammany. They discover prostrate forms of Judy and Primary, drag Primary to front of stage and leave him there, then stand over Judy and shake hands). POLIT. MACH., MAYFLOWER and TAMMANY: That's the way we do it! JUDY (Sitting up): Gentlemen, I begin to think your way may work better in this town than mine! POLIT. MACH.: Ain't you dead yet? JUDY: No, but if this keeps us, I am going to LOSE MY TEMPER! POLIT. MACH.: It's all your own fault. I came here as a friend. I am willing to ignore the past even now, if you will hire my men as I asked you to do in the first place. (Enter Major Vote-the-Straight-Ticket) STRAIGHT-TICKET (Harshly): What is going on in this house? I never heard such a noise in my born days! I've had to get up out of a sick bed to quell this infernal racket! I've got the jaundice! I'm not able to be here! The doctor told me not to come! Come, speak up! What's the matter? I've got a temperature, I'd have you know! (Twirls his night stick.) POLIT. MACH.: She did it! This is POLIT. MACH.: She did it! This is Punch's new wife. She has something worse than a temperature, your Honor, and that is a temper that will boil eggs hard in thirty seconds without— STRAIGHT-TICKET: You shut up! (To Judy): What were you doing to him? JUDY: I? Doing to him? (Controlling herself and maknig a last attempt to courtesy and win by kindness.) I am sorry you are ill, your Honor. It was king of you to come here to preserve the peace. This man has thrust himself and his two hired men in here, and insists on cleaning my house and arranging it as though it were his own. Just before he came my husband had stepped down to the drug store to post a letter,— 7 POLIT. MACH.: Post a letter ! Ha-ha, ha-ha, ha-ha, ha-ha! STRAIGHT-TICKET: Hold your tongue, Jackass! (The three partners express pantomimic dislike of Straight-Ticket) STRAIGHT-TICKET (To Judy, waving his hand contemptuously at the partners): They don't suit me, or anybody else, altogether, but they are the only housecleaning agencies authorized to work in this town, and you will have to employ them. JUDY: Why will I? STRAIGHT-TICKET: Our charter says so. Orderly government rests upon work done through these two agencies and no other. You may choose Mayflower or Tammany, but you have got to take one of them. POLIT. MACH.: Ha-ha! What did I tell you? He knows who is boss in this burg, and that's ME! STRAIGHT-TICKET (Sternly): You keep still and let me do the talking! (To Judy) My time is precious, madam. Which one of these two foremen are you going to employ? JUDY: I WON'T TAKE EITHER OF THEM. I AM GOING TO RUN MY OWN HOUSE! STRAIGHT-TICKET: Young woman, you are a menace! (Hits her over the head with his nightstick. She falls. The partners rub their hands with glee). TAMMANY: She's a goner this time, Chief! STRAIGHT-TICKET (Grimly): I will go and order a wreath for her funeral. (Exit Straight-Ticket) POLIT. MACH.: Pig-headed old blow-gas. Thinks he runs the whole show. Well, boys, he certainly did a good job on Judy. Now we must get busy and give her a rousing funeral so Punch won't feel sore at us. We will tell him the Chief of Police killed her in the exercise of his duty. Wadfirst Mayflower 8 I appoint you to select the coffin and write obituary notices for the ......... (Insert names of locally read papers). Mike Tammany, I appoint you to drive the hearse and take up the collection. (Exit Polit. Mach., Mayflower and Tammany) JUDY (Gets dizzily on her feet, holding her head): O, the devil! (Flash of lightning, peal of thunder, enter The Devil) DEVIL: I come! Nobody ever calls me in vain! JUDY: Horrors! I was not calling you, I was only swearing. Go away! I don't want you. DEVIL: I know you don't, but I want you! There has been enough fooling in this house! I am the real boss of this town, and you don't seem to know it. You set a bad example. I am going to remove you! (Devil takes Judy roughly by collar and starts to drag her off) JUDY: Unhand me, you old nightmare! (Snatches up a broom and hits Devil over head; he flinches, she follows it up with another, he runs, she chases him.) The only way to get anywhere in this rotten old town is to boss it myself! DEVIL: Hold on, lovely creature! I've changed my mind! Don't hit me again! JUDY (Twirling her broom triumphantly): THAT'S THE WAY WE DO IT! DEVIL (Bowing low): Madam, remain on earth to cheer and brighten all whom you meet! You belong here with the Red Blooded Americans. I thought you were a Bolshevist. I take only Bolshevists to Hell. Their turbulence has been much over-rated, I find, and as I get older, I like quiet. JUDY (Approaching him mysteriously): Did I hear you say you took Bolsheviki? DEVIL: Yes. 9 JUDY: Then I have some for you. They have gone after a coffin for me. Here they come back with it now! Take them! (As they enter one after another, Devil pounces on Polit. Mach., Mayflower and Tammany, hits them on head to clap of thunder, and pitches them off stage.) JUDY (As each is thrown off): Pitfall ONE—Pitfall TWO— Pitfall THREE. DEVIL: That's the way to do it. (Goes over to body of Direct Primary.) Who's this dead one? JUDY: He isn't dead. That's Direct Primary. You don't want him. (Enter Straight-Ticket bearing an immense funeral wreath) DEVIL: Here's one belongs to me; Who's he? (Seizes Straight-ticket.) JUDY: That is the man who said I was a menace and knocked me on the head. That is a funeral wreath for me he is carrying. DEVIL (Releases Straight-ticket, bows apologetically, picks up wreath and hands it back to him): My dear sir, a thousand pardons! I leave you here to finish the job. Next time you hit her, take a crowbar! We've got the coffin, we've got the wreath, I hope we get the corpse, some day. (Looks malevolently at Judy.) (Straight-ticket angrily throws the wreath down on Direct Primary and goes out. Primary sits up, puts wreath around neck, rises to his fee. Enter Punch.) DEVIL: This looks like a Bolshevist! He belongs to me! (Seizes him.) JUDY: You leave him alone! That is my dear husband! (Rescues Punch.) DEVIL: Your husband, madam? (To Punch): My poor man, Hell can have no terrors for you. You will expiate your sins as you go along! (To Judy): And now, my dear madam, 10 if you have no further commissions—(Bows with exaggerated and malicious politeness, exit to clap of thunder.) PUNCH: My dear wife, how did you manage to get rid of them all? JUDY: I used tact. I approached them in the spirit of love, as ....... (Insert name of local woman) said. I reasoned with them, as Mrs. Catt said, I joined forces with them (twirls broom significantly) as Maud Wood Park said. And they fell for it like—like lambs in the slaughter house! (Gives her right hand to Punch, her left to Direct Primary, comes with them to stage front, she courtesies, they bow, she throws kiss to audience.) THAT'S THE WAY WE DO IT! END. General Directions This play should be given on a bare stage, like a Punch and Judy show. Punch and Judy may be dressed in Harlequin and Columbine costumes. Political Machines, typical political boss costume. Wadfirst Mayflower, capitalist costume, Mike Tammany Irish peasant costume, carter's smock and whip, short pipe. Direct Primary, black Harlequin costume, white ruff, pompons, pointed cap. The Landslides fantastically gotten up as lunatics with animal heads, elephant and donkey, symbolic of the two major parties. Major Straight-ticket, costume of Chief of Police, carries a night stick. Devil in Mephistopheles costume. Published by The New York League of Women Voters, 1625 Grand Central Terminal Building, New York City. (Price 25 cents) Copyright 1923 MARY GRAY PECK PRICE, 15 CENTS ELECTION DAY A Suffrage Play By EMILY SARGENT LEWIS PRICE, 15 CENTS ELECTION DAY A Suffrage Play By EMILY SARGENT LEWIS COPYRIGHTED BY MRS. WILFRED LEWIS, 1912 This play is in every way protected by the copyright law. Without the permission of the owners of the acting rights it cannot be produced either by professionals or amateurs. For permission apply to MRS. WILFRED LEWIS 5901 Drexel Road, Philadelphia, Pa. Election Day A COMEDY IN ONE ACT By EMILY SARGENT LEWIS TIME: The Present. PLACE: An American City. DRAMATIC PERSONNEL MR. RICHARD GARDNER.....A Golf Enthusiast. MRS. RICHARD GARDNER, his wife, An Anti-Suffragist. DOROTHY, aged twenty-one.. .....Their daughter. DICK, aged ten .....Their son. MRS. CARTER, sister of Mrs. Gardner .....A Suffragist. MR. THOMAS RANDOLPH .....A suitor for Dorothy. KATEY CASEY, A woman who goes out to work by the day. AUGUSTUS WHITE, A negro who takes charge of the Gardner's furnace. MARY .....A waitress. The scene is laid on election-day in the breakfast room of the Gardner household, at eight o'clock in the morning. Mary, the waitress, is putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table. MRS. G. Good-morning, Mary. Nobody down yet? I'll just glance over the paper until some one else comes. (Mary giver her paper and continues arrangement of table.) MRS. GARDNER (sits on sofa and unfolds paper, reads). The usual sensational headings—"Typhoid epidemic threatened." Shocking! Fortunately it's not in 3 our part of town. (Turns to Mary.) Mary, be sure to serve only bottled spring water, for the family I mean, of course. MARY. Yes, ma'am. MRS. G. (still reading) "Another strike!" I never read about those silly labor troubles. "Demand for better public schools"—that doesn't interest me; fortunately, we've always been able to send the children to private schools. "Suffragists hope for victory at the polls to-day"—well they certainly will be disappointed. After the magnificent speeches made by our anti-suffragist leaders last week, the "Yellow Peril," as our dear president to beautifully names the movement, is trampled under foot. (Enter Dick, runs to his mother and kisses her.) DICK. Good morning, mother. MRS. G. (kissing him.) Good morning, darling. How rosy you are this morning. DICK (looks over mother's shoulder at paper and reads aloud).. "Votes for Women! Oh, mother, one of our teachers wore a pin with that on it, and I asked her why she didn't have "Votes for Monkeys," too. MRS. G. (laughs and goes toward table, followed by Dick). An excellent question, Dick, what did she say? (with sudden change in tone) Why don't you pull out my chair for me? Don't you know that a gentleman always shows respect for ladies? (Dick seats her, then sits down himself. Mary passes fruit, etc.) DICK. Say, mother! Honestly, don't you wish you could vote to-day? MRS. G. No, indeed. I am quite willing to put all my political burdens upon my husband's shoulders. (Enter Dorothy with Mr. Gardner, who is in golfing clothes. Dorothy kisses her mother. Dick seats his father, etc.) MRS. GARDNER (to Mr. G. tenderly). I was just saying, my dear, that I am so glad to lay all my political burdens upon your strong shoulders. MR. GARDNER. Very nice of you, my love! My I have my coffee right away? I've just time to catch my train for the country club. (Mrs. G. pours coffee, Mary passes it.) 4 DOROTHY (to her father). It's fortunate that we have such fine weather for election-day, isn't it, father? They say it makes such a difference. MR. G. Yes, indeed, the links will be crowded. DOROTHY. I was thinking of the polls. You know you will have to bear my political burdens, too, to-day, father, since I am twenty-one. DICK. When I'm twenty-one I'll bear my own burdens. You won't have to worry about me, Dad. Girls haven't enough sense to vote, poor things! MRS. G. (to Dick). Don't be rude to your sister. (To Mr. G.) You won't vote until late this afternoon, I supposed? MR. G. (embarrassed). I'm afraid I can't manage to pull of a vote to-day. The Committee on Golf is going to stay at the Country Club to dine. There are some highly important matters to decide, and I shall not get back to town until late this evening. MRS. G. Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I did want you to vote against the Woman's Suffrage Amendment. DOROTHY (shyly). I think that I wanted you to vote in favor or if, Father. MRS. G. (to Dorothy). Dorothy, I am surprised at you. MR. G. (rising). Well, I wish that you women would attend to your own politics. I'm going to play golf. I refuse to have the burden of the vote thrust upon me against my will. Good-bye, don't wait up for me. (Kisses wife. Dick gets him bag of golf-sticks, etc. Exit Mr. G.) DOROTHY (teasingly to mother). Now, who is to represent us at the polls to-day, Mother? Father's playing golf, Jim is away, and Dick is not of age. MRS. G. Tom Randolph would represent you, if you would only accept him. As for me, I must use indirect influence somehow. (To Mary) Has Augustus gone? MARY. No, ma'am, he is scrubbing the steps. MRS. G. Tell him to come here at once. (Exit Mary.) (Mrs. G. leaves table, sits on sofa.) Enter Augustus (bowing). Good day, ma'am, good day, 5 Miss. Good day Marse Dick. Please, 'scuse my pussonal appearance, ma'am. I was just doing down the steps. MRS. G. Have you voted yet, Augustus? AUG. No, ma'am, not ye ma'am, I haven't. Jus' as soon as I'se put the coal on Mrs. Jones next door, and turned the hose on Dr. Parks, I'se going to the polls, yes, ma'am. MRS. G. Do you understand about this Suffrage Amendment? AUG. Well, ma'am, not for pussonal reasons. My wife lives down in Virginia, and dat Commendment won't do her no good, no, ma'am. But you see I'se an old man now, and I remember how it felt when President Lincoln, he told us black people we might vote just the same as other folks. It do make you feel fine somehow to be treated like folks. You feel sort of 'spectable, you do so. I'se sure you ladies would like to feel that way, ma'am. MRS. G. (rising). Augustus, you are talking nonsense. How dare you imagine that anything could make me feel more respectable than I do now? I wish you to vote against this Amendment. It is a danger to the country. Unless you do as I tell you you need not come here to work any more. AUG. (alarmed). 'Scuse me, ma'am. I didn't know you ladies was dangerous, I did not. I jus' thought you'd like to feel like folks. Jus' as you say, ma'am, jus' as you say. (Backs out). MRS. G. (proudly to Dorothy). Now you see the power of Indirect Influence. DICK (jumping up from table). Hurrah! When I'm grown-up I'll have a factory with a thousand men, and if they don't vote the way I like I'll bounce them. Hurrah! MRS. G. (to Dick). Go to school at once or you'll be late. (Dick collects school-books with Dorothy's help, exit.) 6 DOROTHY. I think I'll go out, Mother. I want to take some books to the hospital. MRS. G. My dear! You can't go over in that part of the town on Election Day. When I was a girl ladies never went out at all on Election Day. There were always to many drunken men. DOROTHY. But I promised to leave books to-day, Mother. MRS. G. Oh, very well. Mary can take them over this evening when she has finished her work. (To Mary, who is clearing table). It will be a nice little outing for you, Mary. DOROTHY. But Mother, Mary is younger than I am, and surely the streets will be more dangerous after dark. MRS. G. (stiffly). If Mary behaves herself properly she will be perfectly safe. Pray, what are the police for? (Exit Mary). MRS. G. takes sewing from bag and sits on sofa. DOROTHY sits at desk and does up a parcel of magazines). MRS. G. Darling, I wish that you had heard my anti-suffrage speech yesterday. I flatter myself that some of the phrases were very telling. In one place4 I said: "Why turn the sewer of American politics into the sanctity of the home?" DOROTHY. What does that mean, Mother? Is it an argument? MRS. G. No, my child. We have no arguments, but we know that we are right. Women have such wonderful intuition about right and wrong! DOROTHY. Wouldn't that intuition be helpful in politics? MRS. GARDNER. Whoever heard of intuition in a sewer? By the way, speaking of politics, we must give a dinner to Senator Grant in the holidays. It is most important to get him interested in Jim's appointment to West Point (sentimentally) I do want one of my dear sons to serve his beloved country. DOROTHY. Can one serve it only by fighting? MRS. G. What foolish questions you ask, Dorothy. You must have formed the habit at college. 7 DOROTHY. I'm sorry that I was tiresome, Mother. Tell me something more about your meeting. MRS. G. Well, two of the speakers were men, both very distinguished in their professions. One of them said that the women of the Orient are the ones who have real influence, because they are truly feminine. DOROTHY. Why, Mother! I thought that they got sewed up in sacks and thrown into the Bosphorus, and that sort of then. MRS. G. Oh, very few, I fancy. Only the suffragists, probably. Then the other gentleman told us wonderful truths. He said that no woman is ever born a suffragist. DOROTHY. How does he know? New babies can't talk. MRS. G. Oh, he is very clever about statistics and all those things about being born come under the head of statistics, of course. He said, too, that if we should get Woman's Suffrage the State would relapse into barbarism. DOROTHY. Surely, he was joking. MRS. G. Not at all. He was most serious, and it made us all feel very sad. I wish that your Aunt Madeleine could have heard him. She is always so cheerful! DOROTHY. I'm afraid that Aunt Madeleine is the exception, for she is sure that she is a born Suffragist. (Enter MARY. (Announces) MRS. CARTER. (Enter MRS. CARTER. MRS. G. and DOROTHY rise; all embrance, then sit down again.) MRS. G. How are you today, Sister? I was afraid that you would be too busy to drop in this morning. MRS. C. My turn as watcher at the Polls comes later. Everything is going splendidly, and I feel that I can give myself an hour's rest. MRS. G. You suffragists have wonderful energy. Now, I feel quite exhausted after my speech of yesterday. MRS. C. (sweetly). I don't wonder, dear, after what I've heard of it. MRS. G. (melodramatically). But how can one give 8 one's strength better than in defending the sacred traditions of home? MRS. C. Woman's enfranchisement will be a sacred tradition of home for future generations. MRS. G. Madeleine, I admit that you and I might use enfranchisement well, but (impressively) how would you like your cook to vote? MRS. C. He does. MRS. G. (in confusion). How stupid of me. I forgot that you have a chef now. Well, consider then what it would mean to enfranchise an ignorant woman, like Kate Conner, the washerwoman, for instance. (Enter MARY). MARY. Please Mrs. Gardner, may Katie speak to you for a moment? MRS. G. I suppose so. Send her in. (Exit MARY. Enter KATIE.) KATIE. Good morning, ma'am. Good morning, Miss Dorothy. O, good morning, Mrs. Carter. Was the last week's wash all right, ma'am? Miss Polly's nightgowns is pretty enough to wear outside, I always tell my girls (turns to MRS. G.). Sure, it was about the laundry stove I wanted to speak a word. Since the stove man put it in perfect order I can do nothin' with it at all. MRS. G. I'm sorry, Katie, but I don't think we could get anyone to look at it today, on account of its being Election Day, you know. KATIE. I suppose so, ma'am. The men act as if it took 'em all day to vote. Anything for a holiday, I'm thinking. Well, I'll just have patience with the stove, and maybe the cook will give me a fling at the range (turns to go). MRS. G. One moment, Katie. When you came in Mrs. Carter and I were talking about Women's Suffrage— you know what that means, I suppose? KATIE. Yes, ma'am. I often hear my girls talking about it with their friends. MRS. G. Of course, you would take no interest in enfranchisement. You have, I suppose, no education? KATIE. Awful little, ma'am. My girls could do better with their books when they was ten years old 9 than myself at any age. When I was young it was terrible hard for the poor to get any schooling. My mother, God rest her soul, was always saying I had no need of edication, I had so much sense (apologetically). You know the way mothers do be talking about their own. MRS. G. I see. You acknowledge, then, that you are illiterate. I suppose that you never even heard of the Tariff, for instance? KATIE. Indeed I have, ma'am. That what they tell about at the store when they do be asking a fancy price for their things. Sure, somebody ought to keep an eye on it, for it's cruel hard on the poor when it gets to going on so. MRS. G. Of course, you have no ideas at all about Finance? KATIE. No ma'am. None of my aunts was ever fine at all, just poor people like myself. MRS. G. Not fine aunts, Katie, but Finance. That means—er—banking and that sort of thing. KATIE. Ah, the savings-bank, your meaning. All a poor woman like me knows is to put her bit of money in it and then pray God on her bended knees that it won't bust up on her. MRS. G. Then, have you ever heard of Civil Service Reform? KATIE. Civil Servants' Reform, is it? I'm thinking it would be best to reform them that ain't civil—the butlers, now—some of them will be giving themselves the airs of the blessed Holy Father himself. MRS. G. (aside to MRS. CARTER). You see, Madeleine, she does not even know the meaning of the names of these important issues. KATIE. If they'd be after asking me such hard questions on Election Day, I'd have no luck at all with my voting. I'd better go back to my tubs, I had, and not be showing my ignorance to you ladies (turns to go). MRS. CARTER. Wait, Katie. If you had the vote is there anything that you would care to help about— anything that especially concerns you and your neighbors, the other women, I mean? KATIE (slowly). That concerns us women? Ah, 10 we're alike, rich and poor, I'm thinking, in what lies nearest our hearts. We want to keep our husbands working steady, and have decent food and shelter that don't cost too dear, and give our children a better chance than we had ourselves. MRS. G. Your own husband is dead, is he not? KATIE. That he's not, ma'am. He's just across the river in the next State enjoying himself. He left me when my baby was a week old, and there were three other children to look to. MRS. G. Why didn't you have him arrested and brought back? KATIE. Sure, I said to John Kelly, the officer on our block, a great friend of my husband's he was. I sez to him: "It's an arm of the law you call yourself, John Kelly. Can't you get the body of it to slip across the line and fetch Mike back to his children, for it's near starving we are?" MRS. CARTER. What did he say" KATIE. "I'm sorry for you all, Mrs. Conner, indeed I am," he sez, "but the law can't fetch Mike back to the State, for it's just a misdemeanor, his leaving you, it is. Sure, if you'd have us chase after all the deserting husbands that clear out of the State we'd have no time at all to catch the really important criminals, and the expense would be terrible," he sez, "and that's a thing you women don't consider." MRS. CARTER. What did you say to him, Katie? KATIE. "What's the law for, John Kelly?" I asked him, "it it's not to protect the helpless and innocent and keep 'em from being a public charge?" "You don't understand matters of state," he sez; "go home and mind your baby." "My baby's dead—they do die most ways when their mothers are starving." I sez, "and I'm working my fingers to the bone to keep the others alive while their father's but a few miles away, earning good money and spending it to get some other poor girls into trouble." (She wipes her eyes with her apron.) MRS. CARTER. Poor Katie, how did you manage to get along? KATIE (cheerfully). Well, I got washing and cleaning 11 to do, and you don't have to buy awful much food when there's no man to geed. Then when my Annie got old enough she went into a mill and helped me keep the others. She's a good girl, but delicate like. MRS. G. It's only the lazy poor that don't get on. KATIE. May be may be, but I think that there's such a thing as too hard work for the young. Many a night Annie would come home a-crying with her poor back and her sore feet after the twelve hours' standing in rush times. What with the small pay and the fines and the weeks the girls get laid off between seasons, it's more than laziness keeps 'em from getting rich. Many a one has slept on my kitchen floor when there was no other place for her but the street, and you what that means. MRS. G. I've been told that an honest, industrious girl could always find work. KATIE. May be so, may be so, ma'am, but you may be thankful that your own is safe at home with her pianny, and not out in the cold with a sore heart, looking for a job, and some divil a-following her up. MRS. G. (shocked). Really, Katie, you must not use such language. KATIE. You must excuse me, ma'am, but you asked me, like. I'll go back to my wash now or I'll not have a rag out on the line before mid-day (turns to go). MRS. CARTER. Katie, I believe that if we women get the vote that you and your neighbors will help us to understand your troubles and try to improve conditions for women and children. KATIE (simply). I'm ignorant, indeed, as Mrs. Gardner has a right to be saying, but as for knowing about husbands that beat you up and leave you, and boys that get led away in the saloons and gambling places, and the tenements where the babies die like flowers that have got no water, and the young girls that go to the bad because they're cold and hungry— why, I understand all that as you'd understand a tea- party—I'd be dumb enough if I didn't when I live in the midst of it (turns to go, but adds). My girls aren't ignorant like me. My Maggie's in the High School, she is, and she's going through it if I have to 12 work till I drop to keep her there. She's going to have her chance. (Exit.) MRS. CARTER. Well, Genevieve, the illiterate woman isn't such a bug-a-boo as you Anti's picture her. MRS. G. Katie really has unusual intelligence for a woman of her position, and she's an excellent laundress, too. I don't know whether I approve of her sending her youngest girl to the High School. She'd much better go out to service. Still, one must help the poor. I shall give Katie her carfare after this—she often stays after hours when the wash is very large. Dorothy, you might send her girls that blue hat of yours that is so hideously unbecoming and your black muff that the moths got into last summer. DOROTHY. Mother, dear, I think I'd rather send them something really pretty and new. MRS. G. That's very generous of you, darling, but you'd better send the muff, too, for after the moths have once been in a thing I'm glad to get it out of the house. MRS. CARTER (rising). I must take my turn as a watcher now. Good-bye, Genevieve; good-bye, Dorothy. DOROTHY (embracing MRS. C.). I wish I coud go with you, Aunt Madeleine; I really am a Suffragist at heart. MRS. G. Dorothy, you astonish me. You know how conservative Tom Randolph is. If you mix yourself up in this unfeminine movement his feeling for you will surely change. DOROTHY (exasperated). Then let it change! I haven't promised to marry him, and I never will marry any man who looks upon a wedding ring as a muzzle. MRS. G. (turning to MRS. C.). Now, you see Madeleine, what your example has done. Tom Randolph is the most desirable young man in our set. MARY (announces). Mr. Randolph. (Enter TOM RANDOLPH, pulling off gloves.) RANDOLPH. Good morning, Mrs. Gardner (shakes hands). Good morning, Mrs. Carter (shakes hands). Good morning, Dorothy (shakes hands). (To MRS. 13 G.) Awfully early for a visit, I'm afraid. I suppose you are fearfully busy--with housekeeping and all that. Mrs. G. Oh, not at all; we're always delighted to see you. Do sit down and tell us the news from the great masculine world. Randolph. Well, really, it's rather early in the day for news. I've just come from the Polls, and it was rather jolly there. An awfully pretty girl gave me this (points to a pin marked "Votes for Women" on his coat). Mrs. G. How exceedingly forward in her! It was very kind in you to take it, I'm sure. Randolph. Oh, really, Mrs. Gardner, she wasn't forward at all. She has the manners of a princess. She handed this to me like a cotillion favor, and I just said: "Thanks, awfully." Then she said: "Put it on, please, and vote for the Suffrage Amendment" (pause)--so I did. Dorothy. Oh, I'm so glad, Tom! Mrs. G. But you've always talked against Woman's Suffrage, Tom. Randolph. Just sentiment, Mrs. Gardner. I'm so jolly sentimental I never reasoned about it. I just thought I wouldn't want my wife to talk politics to me, because I've always been rather stupid about them, and I wouldn't want my wife to know just what an ass I am, but (cheerfully) she'd probably find it out anyway. Mrs. Carter. You are too modest, Mr. Randolph. Let me thank you for support. Randolph. Not at all, Mrs. Carter ; don't mention it--always a pleasure to do anything for you (more seriously). Besides, I was jolly glad to be on the other side from the gang that have been working against the Amendment. I never saw a tougher lot in my life--of course, I don't mean you, Mrs. Gardner (Mrs. G. bridles at this), but the men who are opposed to it--most of them want a wide open town all the time. While I was waiting for my turn I saw Sykes, the chap who keeps the worst saloon in this ward, talking to a policy-shop friend of his. Then there was Smith, that man the Consumer's League is always getting after, and that chap Jones that fights against child labor reform. They weren't wearing any "Votes for Women" buttons, not they! I was rather proud of mine when I saw how those fellows glared at it. Mrs. Gardner. But the sanctity of the home, Tom? Randolph. Well, I guess that the home's all right with the right woman in it (looks at Dorothy). Perhaps next year I'll go to the Polls with my wife--now wouldn't that be jolly? What do you think, Dorothy? Dorothy (shyly). I think it would be rather nice. (He goes over and sits by her and they talk.) Mrs. Carter. Yes, I am sure that next year the Polls will look like Noah's ark with all the couples approaching. (Turning to Mrs. Gardner). And how will you feel then, Genevieve? Dorothy (goes over to her mother). They shan't tease you, darling, if it happens. We'll just slip out quietly and vote and not bother you about it. Mrs. Gardner (indignantly). Not bother me about it? Do you suppose that if you other women vote I shall stay home doing nothing? I think that I know what I want as well as anyone, and if I can't get it any other way I'll just go and vote for it. Let me see. I think that about three o'clock in the afternoon would probably be the nicest time at the Polls. Randolph. Hurrah then for the next Election Day! I'll meet you at the Polls at three o'clock, Mrs. Gardner. (Kisses her hand). (She smiles and nods assent.) Dorothy and Mrs. Carter (together). Oh, mother! Oh, Genevieve! CURTAIN. A SUFFRAGE RUMMAGE SALE Five cents a copy Six cents postpaid Dramatic representations of "A Suffrage Rummage Sale" cannot be given without the permission of the author, Miss Mary Winsor, Haverford P. O., Pa. $1.00 fee is charged for one production (including four printed copies of "A Suffrage Rummage Sale," and one typewritten copy of "The Auctioneer's Speech.)" The former may be kept but The Auctioneer's Speech must be returned to Miss Winsor after the performance. A Suffrage Rummage Sale TO BE SOLD AT PUBLIC AUCTION: A choice lot of prejudices, superstitions, fallen idols, curios, second hand costumes, worn-out ideals, cast-off toys, antique furniture and Anti-quated notions. Articles to be auctioned: An image of Buddha, a Turkish flag, a pair of Chinese shoes or an Oriental veil, a screen, a spinning wheel, home-made preserves or fancy work, a set of china, a suit of armor, a shillalah or big stick, and a vacuum cleaner. 1 PREFACE Some Practical Suggestions All the articles sold at the auction should be donated. Business firms and department stores are generally willing to donate if promised that their names will appear on the Program as having contributed the goods. As the public may not realize that this is to be a bona-fide auction, it is wise to enclose in each invitation the Program with a list of the articles for sale. At the time of the auction the articles to be sold should be put on exhibition in a conspicuous part of the theatre and the aids or ushers be instructed to exhibit the articles. When the sale is about to begin, they should be arranged on the stage in the proper sequence for the auctioneer to take them up in order. As each is sold it should be handed over the footlights by the auctioneer so as to leave the stage clear for the entrance of Mrs. Grundy, etc. A certain article should be agreed upon as Mrs. Grundy's cue, and she should enter after that article has been auctioned off. 2 THE AUCTION INTERRUPTED DRAMATIS PERSONAE: (In the order of their appearance.) The Auctioneer Mrs. Grundy Mrs. Partington The Mad Hatter SCENE. (There is a small table in the centre of the stage. One chair to left of stage—one to right, but none near the table. The Auctioneer is finishing the last sale.) Enter Mrs. Grundy (Right) (She is a small, "well-preserved" woman with ringlets and rosy cheeks, rather tightly laced, wears a gaily colored poke bonnet with a wreath of roses under the brim crinoline, lace shawl, white stockings with black slippers, lace mitts, and with fan dangling from her waist. Her manner is mincing, honeyed, patronizing, very determined and dictatorial, occasionally spiteful. She is quite aware of her own importance.) Mrs. Grundy. — (Right Centre.) I am here to register a protest against the modern point of view. It is an outrageous assault on womanhood. Let those of us who belong to the privileged classes be content with our privileges and not join in this vulgar clamor 3 for "rights." We must never forget that man is man and woman is woman. Ah! let us leave woman where Heaven has placed her—on a pedestal! Don't let us drag her down into the mire. I am scandalized at the indecorum of the present day, —especially the bold young girls of the present day, who demand a college education just as if they were men, and some of them actually want to earn their living in horrid masculine ways—typewriters, or doctors, or lawyers, or farmers, or gardeners. Why, in my time, if a girl did not marry she was quite content to stay at home and do a little sewing in a state of genteel starvation. That was the proper thing for a well-bred woman. Auctioneer: Is this Mrs. Grundy? (Mrs. Grundy curtsies.) Auctioneer: (Advance.) (To the Audience.) Ladies and gentleman, this is the celebrated Mrs. Grundy—the arbiter of fashion—the mould of form— the guardian of propriety. (Crosses to Mrs. G., lays a hand on her arm confidingly) Mrs. Grundy, are you a Suffragist? Mrs. Grundy: I—a Suffragist? (Auctioneer quickly retreats.) Oh, no indeed. How could I be anything so promiscuous? Why if I could vote, my cook could vote, and I might meet my cook at the polls. How vulgar! Suffragist? No, no! Auctioneer: Then may I ask what are you doing here? Mrs. Grundy: I have come here to protest against the brazen woman who makes herself conspicuous on a public platform. May I have the doubtful pleasure of saying a few words of rebuke to the unmanly men and unwomanly women whom I see before me? 4 Auctioneer: Certainly, our platform is always open to Anti-suffragists, for we believe in free speech. (Back centre.) Mrs. Grundy: (Advancing to the front of the platform centre, looking penetratingly at the audience with a winning smile.) Do the ladies really think you need the vote? Look at me. I have never had the vote, and yet I ask you, doesn't Mrs. Grundy rule the world? I am sure there are a great many persons who would like to come out openly for woman suffrage, but they don't dare! Why? They are afraid of me. I am proud to think that my influence is keeping millions of women in their proper sphere. (Back to left as Mrs. Partington enters.) Enter Mrs. Partington (Right)—with a large broom. (She is tall, gaunt, respectable, middle-aged, muscular, belligerent, with a gruff voice and determined manner. Costume— that of a scrub woman.) Mrs. Partington: (Centre.) (To the audience.) The Woman Movement must be stopped! I'm here to stop it. And Woman Suffrage must be dropped— I tell you, DROP IT! Though like the sea you fume and fret With my good broom, I'll stem you yet. (Looks around the audience—Sweeps—) Fie on your brazen faces— You suffragettes may fume and frown, But if you rise, I'll put you down And keep you in your places. (Brandishes the broom.) Mrs. Grundy: (Crosses to Mrs. P.) Dear Mrs. Partington, I am glad to meet such a womanly woman. In this violent age of unsexed female it is 5 a pleasure to see a gentle creature like yourself who believes in quiet lady-like methods. AUCTIONEER: Ladies, really the rummage sale must go on. (Centre between them.) If you insist on remaining. I shall have to auction you off as curios. (Seizing the auctioneer's hammer from the table.) (Front.) We have for sale two very valuable pieces of antique furniture—slightly shop-worn and somewhat moth-eaten, to be sold to-day at greatly reduced prices. (From behind the right scenes are heard shouts.) I protest! Shame! Stop! Stop! (Mrs. Grundy and Mrs. Partington look alarmed and withdraw to one side, back to left.) AUCTIONEER: Oh! What is that? Did any one speak? Enter MAD HATTER:—(Costume as described in Alice in Wonderland.) MAD HATTER: (Rushing on the stage.) Yes, I spoke and I intend to go on speaking. It's my business to speak and women should listen respectfully. Woman's place is in the Home. She should stay there and attend to her children. Her domestic duties should occupy her entire attention. No matter what calamities befall the nation, like Werther's Charlotte she should go on cutting bread and butter. AUCTIONEER: Is that a slice of bread and butter I see in your hand? MAD HATTER: Yes; and it's the best butter. AUCTIONEER: (To audience.) Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce the celebrated character— the Mad Hatter. MAD HATTER: (Tosses the bread and butter into 6 wings, takes off hat, makes low bow.) (Oratorically.) I have come here this afternoon to represent the silent woman. AUCTIONEER: The silent woman? I don't know the lady. MAD HATTER: (Vociferating.) Of course, you don't know her—none of your friends are silent. Suffragettes talk all the time. I represent women like Mrs. Grundy and Mrs. Partington—the quiet stay-at-home kind that never appear in public. AUCTIONEER: They seem to be here, and this is a public meeting. MAD HATTER: (Not paying the slightest attention.) There is nothing so horrid, so disheartening to a manly man like me as the sight of a female on a public platform. Shocking! Real women are domestic, demure and reticent. As for speaking in public, Mrs. Grundy and Mrs. Partington would rather die than do such a brazen deed. AUCTIONEER: Mrs. Grundy and Mrs. Partington are both present. (Mad Hatter much embarrassed crosses Right.) (Mrs. G. and Mrs. P. look displeased and haughty.) And both ladies have put aside their reticence and favored us with a speech. MAD HATTER: They had to do it. Their sense of duty compelled them to speak. The Anti's are obliged to talk all the time in order to keep the other women quiet. MRS. GRUNDY: (Mrs. G. and Mrs. P. bow and smile, cross Right to Mad Hatter.) The Anti-suffragists are like Thomas Carlyle—we preach the virtues of silence in—forty volumes. MRS. PARTINGTON: We do not wish to appear in 7 public. I speak for all good housekeepers when I say we would rather remain in the Home. MAD HATTER: The Anti-suffragist never leaves her home. She never goes to the theatre, or the opera, or concerts, or lectures, or bridge-whist parties. No, never! Nor luncheons, nor dinners, nor suppers, nor teas, nor bargain counters, nor white goods sales. She remains in the Home hermetically sealed there like a fly in amber. MRS. PARTINGTON: (Fanning herself with her broom.) (In a sepulchral tone.) Woman's place is in the Home. MRS. GRUNDY, MRS. PARTINGTON and MAD HATTER in chorus: Forever in the Home. AUCTIONEER: Then all the hundreds and thousands of women whom we meet in the theatres, the opera, the department stores, the railroad stations, the streets and the churches - are they all Suffragists? MAD HATTER: Every one of them. AUCTIONEER: How the cause is growing! (Crosses Right to Mad Hatter, very close to him looking into his eyes.) Don't you think that all nations will soon grant their women the franchise? MAD HATTER: If Woman Suffrage were adopted, it would bring about - it would bring about - the down-fall of civilization. (Auctioneer backs toward left, Mad Hatter follows.) It would take us - it would take us - straight back to the caves of our primeval ancestors. (Auctioneer backs to a chair, Left, falls into it exhausted.) MRS. GRUNDY: (Right.) (Loftily.) I would have you know my ancestors were too aristocratic to live in caves. The very first one of them was born in a palace. That's why I don't want the ballot. Women 8 of wealth and social position can get along very comfortably without it. I don't want it myself, and I don't intend other women to have it. MRS. PARTINGTON: (Centre.) No good housekeeper wants it. I would rather scrub the floors forever than undertake the heavy and burdensome task of voting once a year. MRS. GRUNDY: Mrs. Partington, you are the greatest living authority on house-cleaning, and I would like to inquire, do you approve of this nasty new-fangled Vacuum Cleaner? MRS. PARTINGTON: No, madam. Like Nature, I abhor a vacuum. With my broom I scour the seas and sweep away modern inventions. MRS. GRUNDY: The restless women who want to gad abroad claim that a Vacuum Cleaner would save them time and trouble. MAD HATTER: (Left.) A mere pretext to escape their Home duties. What's their time worth? I agree with the farmer who was asked to buy an incubator because it would save the hens so much trouble. "Pshaw!" said the farmer, "what's a hen's time worth anyhow?" That's what I say about the women. Let them go on toiling and moiling - scrubbing and sweeping - in the good old-fashioned way. MRS. GRUNDY: (Approvingly.) As their great-grandmothers did before them. MRS. PARTINGTON: We want no change. MRS. GRUNDY: We need no vote. MRS. PARTINGTON: We have all the rights we want. MRS. GRUNDY: With the immortal poet, Alexander Pope, we say, "Whatever is, is right." Conservatism - that is the key-note of the Anti-suffrage movement. 9 MRS. PARTINGTON: But it is not a movement. It is a concerted and organized effort to stop movements— to sweep back movements. (Sweeps furiously.) MRS. GRUNDY: (Right.) Our mission is to make these restless, modern women cultivate repose of manner and true decorum—to teach them how to say, "Prunes and Prisms" —how to sit — (Sits) — and how to rise gracefully—(Rises)—how to receive a gentleman visitor— (Greets the Mad Hatter who skips across the stage to bow and scrape before her)—how to tread a minuet—(Dances a few steps with the Mad Hatter as partner)—(Mrs. Partington beats time with her broom)—how to manage a fan bewitchingly and how to attract men—That is more important than to vote. And of course, no woman can do both. (Coquettes with antiquated graces.) (The Mad Hatter becomes very gallant. Takes her hand, slips his arm around her waist and chucks her gently under the chin. Mrs. Partington shows signs of impatience and disapproval.) MRS. GRUNDY: But we old-fashioned women know how to repel a forward suitor whose attentions are too pressing. (Repulses the Mad Hatter, who falls on the floor. Mrs. Partington comes forward clearing her throat. (Centre front.) MAD HATTER: (From the floor.) One of the "silent women" wishes to speak again. MRS. PARTINGTON: Man is always Woman's superior. No matter what position he occupies, Woman should look up to Man and treat him respectfully. (Plants her foot firmly on the prostrate form of the Mad Hatter.) Women can not vote because they can not fight. MAD HATTER: (Jumping to his feet and almost upsetting Mrs. P.) Can not fight? But what about 10 Mollie Pitcher in the Revolutionary War, who manned her husband's gun? MRS. PARTINGTON: (Angrily.) Women can not fight. MAD HATTER: Well, of course, ladies, I am an Anti-suffragist. In my capacity of Mad Hatter (rolls his eyes and taps his forehead) I couldn't be anything else; but I must take exception to the physical force argument. (To Mrs. Grundy.) Think of the Maid of Saragossa! Think of Joan of Arc! Think of Boadicea and the Amazons! Just think! MRS. GRUNDY: (With intense concentration.) I won't think! And you can't make me think! If I thought, I wouldn't be an Anti-suffragist. But I KNOW that Woman's place is not on the battle-field. MAD HATTER: What about Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale? MRS. PARTINGTON: (Threatening him with her broom.) WOMEN CAN NOT FIGHT! We are too weak, I tell you! (MAD HATTER: Weak? Ha! Ha!) Woman's strength is her weakness. We are miserable timid things. We are not strong enough to force our way to the polls. (Chases him around the table.) We can't defend our vote. Ballots and bullets go together. I am a poor, weak woman, and I need protection. How dare you say that women can fight? It is a libel on the sex. Women can not vote because they can not fight. (Beats him with her broom.) I am now using the physical force argument. MAD HATTER: Yes, madam, I feel the force of your arguments. I assure you that they make a deep impression on me. (Rubbing his shoulder. Gets the broom away from her. Holding up the broom.) With this domestic implement you have conquered me. (Front.) (Apostrophizing the broom.) Ah, broom! 11 Symbol of Domesticity! How well you grace a woman's frail and trembling hand! (Mrs. Partington shakes her first at him.) How much better you look clutched in the female paw than that monstrosity, the ballot! Ah! Ladies, promise me that your lily-white fingers will never be contaminated by sordid contact with politics. (Murmurs of "We promise" from Mrs. Partington and Mrs. Grundy.) (In a sermonizing voice to the Auctioneer.) If the housewives of this city, instead of clamoring for that vain bauble, the ballot, would only grasp the broom and go out into the streets and sweep, and sweep, like our friend, Mrs. Partington, how soon the streets would be nice and clean, in spite of politics and politicians. AUCTIONEER: (Taking the centre of the stage.) Suffragists think the vote in the hands of women would be a broom with which we could make a clean sweep — not only of the streets, but of all unclean things. Therefore, the last thing I have to offer you today is the most precious of all — the ballot. (Holding up a sample ballot.) Look on it with hope, for Heaven willing, it will soon be yours. Look on it with reverence, for it is the symbol of power. When it comes to you, may you use it well; but before it will come to you, you must be willing to bid for it, and bid high. Not only money must you bid, but courage, and devotion, and self-sacrifice. You must be ready to contribute your youth, your charm, your ability, your name, your personality and your heart. And I will ask those who are ready to lay this great price on the altar of their country to give their assent by a rising vote. 12 [*5*] AN ANTI- SUFFRAGE MONOLOGUE BY MARIE JENNEY HOWE National Woman Suffrage Publishing Co., Inc. Publishers for the National American Woman Suffrage Association 505 Fifth Avenue New York City An Anti-Suffrage Monologue By MARIE JENNEY HOWE Please do not think of me as old-fashioned. I pride myself on being a modern up-to-date woman. I believe in all kinds of broad-mindedness, only I do not believe in woman suffrage because to do that would be to deny my sex. Woman suffrage is the reform against nature. Look at these ladies sitting on the platform. Observe their physical inability, their mental disability, their spiritual instability and general debility! Could they walk up to the ballot box, mark a ballot and drop it in? Obviously not. Let us grant for the sake of argument that they could mark a ballot. But could they drop it in? Ah, no. All nature is against it. The laws of man cry out against it. The voice of God cries out against it—and so do I. Enfranchisement is what makes man man. Disfranchisement is what makes woman woman. If women were enfranchised every man would be just like every woman and every woman would be just like every man. There would be no difference between them. And don't you think this would rob life of just a little of its poetry and romance? Man must remain man. Woman must remain woman. If man goes over and tries to be like woman, if woman goes over and tries to be like man, it will become so very confusing and so difficult to explain to our children. Let us take a practical example. If a woman puts on a man's coast and trousers, takes a man's cane and hat and cigar and goes out on the street, what will happen to her? She will be arrested and thrown into jail. Then why not stay at home? I know you begin to see how strongly I feel on this subject, but I have some reasons as well. These reasons are based on logic. Of course, I am not logical. I am creature of impulse, instinct and intuition—and I glory in it. But I know that these reasons are based on logic because I have culled them from the men whom it is my privilege to know. 3 My first argument against suffrage is that the women would not use it if they had it. You couldn't drive them to the polls. My second argument is, if the women were enfranchised they would neglect their homes, desert their families and spend all their time at the polls. You may tell me that the polls are only open once a year. But I know women. They are creatures of habit. If you let them go to the polls once a year, they will hang round the polls all the rest of the time. I have arranged these arguments in couplets. They go together in such a way that if you don't like one you can take the other. This is my second anti-suffrage couplet. If the women were enfranchised they would vote exactly as their husbands do and only double the existing vote. Do you like that argument? If not, take this one. If the women were enfranchised they would vote against their own husbands, thus creating dissension, family quarrels, and divorce. My third anti-suffrage couplet is--women are angels. Many men call me an angel and I have a strong instinct which tells me it is true; that is why I am an anti, because "I want to be an angel and with the angels stand." And if you don't like that argument take this one. Women are depraved. They would introduce into politics a vicious element which would ruin our national life. Fourth anti-suffrage couplet: women cannot understand politics. Therefore there would be no use in giving women political power, because they would not know what to do with it. On the other hand, if the women were enfranchised, they would mount rapidly into power, take all the offices from all the men, and soon we would have women governors of all our states and dozens of women acting as President of the United States. Fifth anti-suffrage couplet: women cannot band together. They are incapable of organization. No two women can even be friends. Women are cats. On the other hand, if women were enfranchised, we would have all the women banded together on one side and all the men banded together on the other side, and there would follow a sex war which might end in bloody revolution. Just one more of my little couplets: the ballot is greatly over-estimated. It has never done anything for anybody. Lots of men tell me this. And the corresponding argument is--the 4 ballot is what makes man man. it is what gives him all his dignity and all of his superiority to women. Therefore if we allow women to share this privilege, how could a woman look up to her own husband? Why, there would be nothing to look up to. I have talked to many women suffragists and I find them very unreasonable. I say to them: "Here I am, convince me." I ask for proof. Then they proceed to tell me of Australia and Colorado and other places where women have passed excellent laws to improve the condition of working women and children. But I say, "What of it?" These are facts. I don't care about facts. I ask for proof. Then they quote the eight million women of the United States who are now supporting themselves, and the twenty- five thousand married women in the City of New York who are self-supporting. But I say again, what of it? These are statistics. I don't believe in statistics. Facts and statistics are things which no truly womanly woman would ever use. I wish to prove anti-suffrage in a womanly way--that is, by personal example. This is my method of persuasion. Once I saw a woman driving a horse, and the horse ran away with her. Isn't that just like a woman? Once I read in the newspapers about a woman whose house caught on fire, and she threw the children out of the window and carried the pillows downstairs. Does that show political acumen, or does if not? Besides, look at the hats that women wear! And have you ever known a successful woman governor of a state? Or have you ever known a really truly successful woman President of the United States? Well, if they could they would, wouldn't they? Then, if they haven't, doesn't that show that couldn't? As for the militant suffragettes, they are all hyenas in petticoats. Now do you want to be a hyena and wear petticoats? Now, I think I have proved anti-suffrage; and I have done it in a womanly way--that is, without stooping to the use of a single fact or argument or a single statistic. I am the prophet of a new idea. No one has ever thought of it or heard of it before. I well remember when this great idea first came to me. It waked me in the middle of the night with a shock that gave me a headache. This is it: woman's place is in the home. Is it not beautiful as it is new, new as it is 5 true? Take this idea away with you. You will find it very helpful in your daily lives. You may not grasp it just at first, but you will gradually grow into understanding of it. I know the suffragists reply that all our activities have been taken out of the home. The baking, the washing, the weaving, the spinning are all long since taken out of the home. But I say, all the more reason that something should stay in the home. Let it be woman. Besides, think of the great modern invention, the telephone. That has been put into the home. Let woman stay at home and answer the telephone. We antis have so much imagination! Sometimes it seems to us that we can hear the little babies in the slums crying to us. We can see the children in factories and mines reaching out their little hands to us, and the working women in the sweated industries, the underpaid, underfed women, reaching out their arms to us—all, all crying as with one voice, "Save us, save us, from Woman Suffrage." Well may they make this appeal to us, for who knows what woman suffrage might not do for such as these. It might even alter the conditions under which they live. We antis do not believe that any conditions should be altered. We want everything to remain just as it is. All is for the best. Whatever is, is right. If misery is in the world, God has put it there; let it remain. If this misery presses harder on some women than others, it is because they need discipline. Now, I have always been comfortable and well cared for. But then I never needed discipline. Of course I am only a weak, ignorant woman. But there is one thing I do understand from the ground up, and that is the divine intention toward woman. I know that the divine intention toward woman is, let her remain at home. The great trouble with the suffragist is this; they interfere too much. They are always interfering. Let me take a practical example. There is in the City of New York a Nurses' Settlement, where sixty trained nurses go forth to care for sick babies and give them pure milk. Last summer only two or three babies died in this slum district around the Nurses' Settlement, whereas formerly hundreds of babies have died there every summer. Now what are these women doing? Interfering, interfering with the death rate! And what is their motive in so doing? 6 They seek notoriety. They want to be noticed. They are trying to show off. And if sixty women who merely believe in suffrage behave in this way, what may we expect when all women are enfranchised? What ought these women to do with their lives? Each one ought to be devoting herself to the comfort of some man. You may say, they are not married. But I answer, let them try a little harder and they might find some kind of a man to devote themselves to. What does the Bible say on this subject? It says, "Seek and ye shall find." Besides, when I look around me at the men; I feel that God never meant us women to be too particular. Let me speak one word to my sister women who are here to-day. Women, we don't need to vote in order to get our own way. Don't misunderstand me. Of course I want you to get your own way. That's what we're here for. But do it indirectly. If you want a thing, tease. If that doesn't work, nag. If that doesn't do, cry—crying always brings them around. Get what you want. Pound pillows. Make a scene. Make home a hell on earth, but do it in a womanly way. That is so much more dignified and refined than walking up to a ballot box and dropping in a piece of paper. Can't you see that? Let us consider for a moment the effect of woman's enfranchisement on man. I think some one ought to consider the men. What makes husbands faithful and loving? The ballot, and the monopoly of that privilege. If women vote, what will become of men? They will all slink off drunk and disorderly. We antis understand men. If women were enfranchised, men would revert to their natural instincts such as regicide, matricide, patricide and race-suicide. Do you believe in race-suicide or do you not? Then, isn't it our duty to refrain from a thing that would lure men to destruction? It comes down to this. Some one must wash the dishes. Now, would you expect man, man made in the image of God, to roll up his sleeves and wash the dishes? Why it would be blasphemy. I know that I am but a rib and so I wash the dishes. Or I hire another rib to do it for me, which amounts to the same thing. Let us consider the argument from the standpoint of religion. The Bible says, "Let the women keep silent in the churches." Paul says, "Let them keep their hats on for fear of the angels." 7 My minister says, "Wives, obey your husbands." And my husband says that woman suffrage would rob the rose of its fragrance and the peach of its bloom. I think that is so sweet. Besides did George Washing ever say, "votes for women?" No. Did the Emperor Kaiser Wilhelm ever say, "Votes for women?" No. Did Elijah, Elisha, Micah, Hezekiah, Obadiah and Jeremiah ever say, "Votes for women?" No. Then that settles it. I don't want to be misunderstood in my reference to woman's inability to vote. Of course she could get herself to the polls and lift a piece of paper. I don't doubt that. What I refer to is the pressure on the brain, the effect of this mental strain on woman's delicate nervous organization and on her highly wrought sensitive nature. Have you ever pictured to yourself Election Day with women voting? Can you imagine how women, having undergone this terrible ordeal, with their delicate systems all upset, will come out of the voting booths and be led away by policemen, and put into ambulances, while they are fainting and weeping, half laughing, half crying, and having fits upon the public highway? Don't you think that if a woman is going to have a fit, it is far better for her to have it in the privacy of her own home? And how shall I picture to you the terrors of the day after election? Divorce and death will rage unchecked, crime and contagious disease will stalk unbridled through the land. Oh, friends, on this subject I feel—I feel, so strongly that I can— not think! [*Mrs. Park*] THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER PUBLISHED BY THE ILLINOIS EQUAL SUFFRAGE ASS'N THE Suffrage Dime Speaker, PUBLISHED BY Illinois Equal Suffrage ASSOCIATION. . . . Mail orders filled by . . . MRS. M. E. HOLMES, GALVA, ILL. CARRIE ASHTON-JOHNSON, ROCKFORD, ILL. ROCKFORD, ILL.: GLENN & KNEELAND, 1893. INDEX. Page A Just Government, - - - 15 A Protest, - - - -18 An Appeal, - - - - 26 A Burden Concerning Womanhood, - 45 Concerning the Ballot, - - - 23 Chivalry and Truth, - - - 50 Der Oak Und Der Vine, - - - 9 Fair Play for Women, - - 19 Give Women a Chance, - - - 32 Introduction, - - - - 3 Mistress O'Rafferty "Spakes," 40 Our Legal Representatives, - - 11 Queens of The Republic, - - 27 Roll Onward Waves of Progress, - - 44 The Example of Portia, - - 58 The World's Good Women, - - 7 The Coming Army, - - - 13 The Commonwealth, - - - 51 A New Star Wyoming, - - 54 The Pivotal Question, - - - 45 The New Message, - - - 39 Women in Politics, - - - 8 Women - - - - 10 Women of Today, - - - 25 Women, - - - - 31 Wapello's Wisdom, - - - 36 Woman's Work, - - - 37 Woman's Day, - - - - 42 Was He Henpecked ? - - - 46 Woman ! Her Coming Sovereignty, - 56 Wyoming, - - - - 57 Woman's Plea for Freedom, - - 58 INTRODUCTION. As education and enlightenment only, are the factors by which woman hopes to be granted equal rights with man, at the polls, it is deemed essential to place this question before the public in every possible manner. And the promoters of this movement, hoping much from the generation shortly to enter into the full enjoyment of all the privileges of maturity, believe that it is of great importance to have the principles and logic of the cause early inculcated and disseminated by the boys and girls of the land. With this end in view, the Illinois Equal Suffrage Society have issued this little volume of the brightest and best thought on the subject, in prose and poetry. The selections are all of an equal suffrage tone and well calculated for recitation or declamation in schools, literary societies, debating clubs or public gatherings Excellent speakers, made up of kindred selections, already exist but they are high-priced and the publication of this collection was found uecessary in order to meet a demand for a Dime Suffrage Speaker. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 7 THE WORLD'S GOOD WOMEN. Good women are as sentinels; in the darkness of earth's night. They hold with stout hearts, silently, Life's outposts towards the light; And at God Almighty's roll-call, 'mong the hosts that answer "Here," The voices of good women sound strong, and sweet and clear. Good women are brave soldiers; in the thickest of the fight They stand with stout hearts patiently, embattled for the right; And tho' no blare of trumpet or roll of drum is heard, Good women the world over are an army of the Lord. Good women save the nation; though they bear not sword nor gun, Their panoply is righteousness, their will with God's as one; Each in her single person revealing God on earth, Knowing that so, and only so, is any life of worth. Dost talk of women's weakness? I tell you that this hour The weight of this world's future depends upon their power, And down the track of ages, as Time's flood-tides are told, The level of their height is marked by the place that women hold. -Woman's Tribune. 8 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. WOMEN IN POLITICS. But would you, seriously, I am asked, would you drag women down into the mire of politics? No sir, I would have them lift us out of it. The duty of this meeting is to devise means for the improvement of the government of this state. Now the science of government is not necessarily mean and degrading. If the making and administering of law has become so corrupt as to justify calling politics filthy, and a thing with which no clean hands can meddle without danger, may we not wisely remember, as we begin our work of purification, that politics have been wholly managed by men? How can we purify them? Is there no radical force yet untried, a power not only of skillful checks, which I do not undervalue, but of controlling character? Mr. Chairman, if we sat in this chamber with closed windows until the air became thick and fetid, should we not be fools if we brought in deodorizers—if we sprinkled chloride of lime and burned assafoetida, while we disdained the great purifier? If we would cleanse the foul chamber, let us throw the windows wide open, and the sweet summer air would sweep all impurity away and fill our lungs with fresher life. If we THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 9 would purge politics let us turn upon them the great stream of the purest human influence we know.—George William Curtis. DER OAK UND DER VINE. BY CHAS. FOLLEN ADAMS. I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts, or anyding like dot; Und I likes to see all beoples Shust gondented mit dheir lot; Budt I vants to gondradict dot shap Dot made dis leedle shoke: "A voman vas der glinging vine, Und man, der shturdy oak." "Berhaps, somedimes, dot may pe drue; Budt, den dimes oudt of nine, I find me oudt dot man himself Vas peen der glinging vine; Und vhen hees frendts dhey all vas gone, Und he vas shust "tead proke," Dot's vhen der voman shteps righdt in, Und peen der shturdy oak. Shust go out to der pase-ball groundts, Und see dhose "shturdy oaks" All planted roundt ubon der seats— Shust hear dheir laughs and shokes! Dhen see dhose vomens at der tubs, Mit glothes oudt on der lines; Vich vas der shturdy oak, mine frendts, Und vich der glinging vines? 10 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Ven sickness in der household comes, Und veeks und veeks he shtays, Who vas id fights him mitoudt resdt, Dhose veary nights und days? Who beace and gomfort alvays prings, Und cools dot feefered prow? More like id vas der tender vine Dot oak he glings to now. "Man vants bud leedle here pelow," Der boet von time said; Dhere's leedle dot man he don't vant, I dink id means inshted: Und ven der years keep rolling on, Dheir cared und drubbles pringing, He vants to pe der shturdy oak, Und, also, do der glinging. Maype, vhen oaks dhey gling some more, Und don'd so shturdy been, Der glinging vines dhey haf some shance To helb run life's masheen. In helt und sickness, shoy and pain, In calm or shtormy vedder, 'Tvas bedder dot dhose oaks und vines Should alvays gling togeddher. -Harper's Magazine WOMAN. A queen in her beautiful garments, She stands on the ramparts today To herald the dawn, and the cerements Of her past are folded away. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 11 She stands with the prophets and sages; She speaks, and her tongue is a flame, Leaping forth from fires which for ages Have smouldered in silence and shame. Her feet have come up from the valleys, They are climbing the mountains of light At her call the world rouses and rallies, Bearing arms in the battle of right. She treads on the serpent that struggles, And grinds out its life 'neath her heel; She grapples with sorrows that wrong her; Converting her woe into weal; Made strong through her slaughtered affections, She comes, with her sons by her side, An angel of power and protection, Their beacon light, leader, and guide. No longer a timorous being, To cringe and to cry 'neath the rod, But quick to divine, and far seeing, She hastens the purpose of God. ---Ladies' Home Journal. OUR LEGAL REPRESENTATIVES. Men represent women, they tell us; I'd like to know when, if you please? It certainly can't be in prayer-time; Few but women are there on their knees. Perhaps these gentlemen knightly, When woman commits and crime, Will, at the tribunal of justice, Represent her with pleasure this time. 12 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. But no, in such cases of sadness A man is scarce to be found; Each woman must hang for her own self, Or suffer the jail's weary round. Well, then, in pain or in sickness, So often by woman endured. Will man wish to act as her proxy Till the pain has by science been cured? Whoever will ask such a question Ne'er has seen how a brave man will act, When a cramp takes him sharp in the stomach Or rheumatism twists him up the back. He'd think he was tortured or dying If a pain one-hundredth so great Would seize him as troubles each woman, Many hours both early and late. Then, too, at the washboard and dishpan, Or other such dirty, hard work No man cares to represent woman, But prefers toilsome duties to shirk. Still if a man can't bear pain for a woman, At the tax list he surely should be Her proxy, bearing burdens financial, Or renounce claim to true gallantry. These cases when man's so retiring, If women must suffer or pay, Surely ought to excuse him from acting As her substitute on 'lection day. If a man wants to represent woman, Let him go the whole figure or none, Be her proxy in debt, crime or trouble, As well as where honors are won. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 13 Better still, let each woman in voting, As in work, taxes, sickness, disgrace, Represent her own self at elections, And in government find her true place. CATHERINE G. WAUGH, in Our Hobbies. THE COMING ARMY BY EMMA P. SEABURY. The harvest is most plenteous, but the laborers are few; The times are ripe for action, but the hosts are idle too; The grain lies in the furrow, and the foeman is in view. Heeding not the starving children who huddle at the gate, Heeding not the mothers, women born to suffer and to wait, Burn the clover in the meadows, and the grain; time waneth late. The harvest is most plenteous, but the laborers are abroad, Fighting truth and forging fetters, binding innocence to fraud, Scourging honor with dishonor, while their reeling crowds applaud. Piteous little hungry children watch these armies' banquet spead, Patient, tearful, toddling children see them trample on their bread; Patience, mothers! grain is wasted, while on husks your babes are fed. 14 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Patience? No! Wrongs are not righted by the patient. Keen and sound Nerves of steel, and wills of iron, swing the wheels of change around; Whirr the dizzy evolutions at the human heart's rebound. Patience? No! Adown the century, steady as the ocean's beat, Comes the sound of marching armies, rings the tread of dauntless feet, Armies fired by inspiration, who know not the word defeat. 'Tis the mothers of the nation, brave yet gentle, true and strong; 'Tis the daughters of the nation, one in purpose, one in song; Sisters, sweethearts of the nation, moving steadfastly along. They are bearing truth as ensign; let the wrong and evil quake! Theirs the soul-uplifting purpose, that the slumbering idle wake, And the right be all triumphant, or to perish for its sake. Theirs the purpose, men grow better, wiser, happier, day by day, Homes grow sweeter in the sunshine of the love that sweeps away Folly, passion all unholy, and the tempter in dismay. Theirs the God-inspired purpose, theirs the high and holy cause, THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 15 That the minotaur, Intemprance, that so many victims draws, Be destroyed, and that the people be protected by their laws. Do you laugh in scorn and jeering? —watch their steady beacon light! Hear the hum of myriad millions pressing onward to the fight, For the time is ripe for action, and they strike for God and right. The harvest is most plenteous, and the laborer who spurns To gather in its glory, flings the fagot in which burns. The mothers of the nation are the souls on which it turns. And they come adown the century, waning to its setting sun; They will meet the foe and conquer, ere this decade all is done. They are fighting for their children, and the warfare is begun. Denver, Colorado. A JUST GOVERNMENT [Extract from a Fourth of July oration by Captain DeWitt Wallace.] The opponents of Woman Suffrage proclaim that man and woman have different natures, and yet maintain that man can represent woman better than women can repre- 16 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. sent herself; they admit that woman possesses intelligence and mental endowments equal to man, and yet maintain that she lacks business and political sense; they protest that virtue is the most essential qualification of the citizen voter, and yet maintain that woman, who possesses this qualification in the highest degree, should be excluded from the polls; they admit to the ballot box the worst elements of society, and yet maintain that the best elements should be excluded from it; they believe that nature establishes the home and yet maintain that a legislative enactment, giving the ballot to woman, will tear it down; they concede that woman is the best sculptor of human character, the grandest teacher of the citizen voter, and yet maintain that the product wrought is everything, the artist nothing, —the pupil a king, the teacher a slave; they assert that all governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, and yet maintain that governments should be established and laws enacted with the consent of less than one-half of the people; they declare that taxation of man without representation is tyranny, but that taxation of woman without representation is a blessing; they trust the Negro, 17 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. the Chinaman, the Irishman, the German, the Hottentot and the South Sea Islanders, if they choose to come to our shores, but they refuse to trust their own wives and mothers. They fear that, if the latter should breath the pure air of political freedom, it would poison their moral lungs; they fear that the flower of modesty, though watered by the dews of liberty, would wither in the sunshine of freedom; they fear that the cords of affection, which break not at the drunkard's strain, will snap asunder at the first touch of political difference; they fear that the love of the mother for her child, which, as in the case of Ben Hur's mother, chooses for herself misery and death, to save her offspring, will be swallowed up in the love of politics; in one word, they fear that Woman is, by nature, unfitted for freedom. Fellow citizens, I set my foot upon this doctrine, and I here declare that freedom—freedom intellectual, freedom moral, freedom civil, freedom political—is as truly the natural possession of woman as it is of man, and that it is as necessary to her highest and best development as it is to his. After all, is it not true, in spite of our principles, that our boasted Republic is, practi- 18 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. cally, but the government of a class, for a class, and by a class? But the times are auspicious! The world moves; and mark my words, the day is not far distant, when our wives and daughters shall walk with us to the polls, as they now go with us to political meetings and Fourth of July celebrations. Then, indeed, can we say truly, "Ours is a government of the people, for the people, and by the people." A PROTEST. BY H. H. D. It passes for wit with the men of to day To speak in a careless, contemptuous way Of every brave woman who loyally pleads With men for the rights that our womanhood needs. "Give women their rights!" you scornfully say; "What rights does she lack, a woman, today? Let her stay by the fireside she's fitted to grace, In the kitchen or nursery, that is her place, With her husband, the oak around which she may twine; What other desires has the rightly-trained vine?" We must pay all the taxes, for we have no choice, Abide by the laws in which we have no voice; And all because we are "not fitted to mix With the crowd round the polls, or in rough politics." THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 19 A polite way of putting—O friends, do not doubt it!— That we haven't the sense to take in aught about it. 'Tis milk fit for babies of intellect weak To hush our complainings, forbid us to speak. Remember the words of the wise man, my brother, "The heart of a fool despiseth his mother." You say that for us you make generous laws, So we have no need to espouse our own cause; Yet thus at our pleadings you scoff and you laugh, eh? We ask you for bread, and you feed us on taffy! I think we might better our own wisdom trust To make laws, if not "generous," at least that are just. —Culpepper Court House, Va. FAIR PLAY FOR WOMEN. FROM AN ADDRESS BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. The very moment women passed out of the degradation of the Greek household, and the contempt of the Roman law, they began their long and slow ascent, through prejudice, sophistry and passion, to their perfect equality of choice and opportunity as human beings; and the assertion that when a majority of women ask for equal politics rights they will be granted, is a confession that there is no conclusive reason against their sharing 20 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. them. And, if that be so, how can their admission rightfully depend upon the majority? Why should the woman who does not care to vote prevent the voting of her neighbor who does? Why should a hundred girls who are content to be dolls, and do what Mrs. Grundy expects, prejudice the choice of a single one who wishes to be a woman, and do what her conscience requires? You tell me that the great mass of women are uninterested, indifferent, and, upon the whole, hostile to the movement. You say what of course you cannot know, but even if it were so, what then? There are some of the noblest and best of women, both in this country and in England, who are not indifferent. They are the women who have fought for themselves upon the subject. The others, the great multitude, are those who have not thought at all, who have acquiesced in the old order, and who have accepted the prejudices of men. Shall their unthinking acquiescence, or the intelligent wish of their thoughtful sisters, decide the question? And if women do not care about the question, it is high time that they did, both for themselves and for men. The spirit of society can not be just, nor the laws equitable, 21 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. so long as half of the population are politically paralyzed. And this movement, so well begun by women whose names will be always honored in its history, for their undismayed fidelity to the welfare of their sex—this movement is now fully organized for the very purpose of interesting men and women in the question. It is a pacific agitation, but its issues are immeasurable. You cannot deride it so contemptuously as the last great agitation in this country was derided, nor so bitterly as the corn-law reform in England. Even Mr. Webster, whose business was to know the people and understand politics, who had himself at Plymoth Rock, declared the cause of liberty to be be that of America, and at Niblo's Garden had asserted to omnipotence of conscience in politics—even Mr. Webster derided the anti-slavery movement as a rub-a-dub agitation. But it was a drum-beat that echoed over every mountain and penetrated every valley, and roused the heart of the land to throb in unison. To that rub-a-dub, a million men appeared at Lincoln's call, and millions of women supporting them. To that rub-a-dub, the brave and beautiful and beloved went smiling to their graves. To that rub-a-dub 22 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Grant forced his fiery way through the wilderness; following its roll, herman marched to the sea, and Sheridan scoured the henandoah The rattling shots of the Kearsarge sinking the labama were only the far off echoes of that terrible drum-beat. To that rub-a-dub, Jefferson Davis fled from Richmond, and the walls of the rebellion and of slavery crumbled at last and forever, as the walls of Jericho before the horns of Isreal. The tremendous rub-a-dub played by the hearts and hands of a great people, fills the land today with the celestial music of liberty, and to that people, still thrilling with that music, we appeal! We can be patient. Our fathers won their independence of England by the logic of English ideas. We will persuade America by the eloquence of American principles. In one of the fierce western battles among the mountains, General Thomas—whom we freshly deplore— was watching a body of his troops painfully pushing their way up a steep hill against a withering fire. Victory seemed impossible, and the general—even he, a rock of valor and of patriotism, exclaimed—"They can't do it! They'll never reach the top!" His chief of staff, watching the struggle with 23 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. equal earnestness, placed his hand on the commander's arm, and said softly: "Time, time, General, give them time;" and presently the moist eyes of the brave leader saw his soldiers victorious upon the summit. They were American soldiers—so are we. They were fighting an American battle—so are we. They were climbing a precipice—so are we. The great heart of their General gave them time, and they conquered. The great heart of our country will give us time and we shall triumph. CONCERNING THE BALLOT. BY MRS. GEORGE ARCHIBALD. "A voting woman! Ah!" said he, "That's something I would hate to see! A woman shy and sweet should be, And rule at home all modestlee." He softly stroked his ample knee, "But women ought to vote!" said she. "The women, they are moved," said he, "By impulse as you must agree, They might be won by sophistree, With arguments and subtletee." He poked with anxious pokes his knee, "But women ought to vote!" said she. "To wield the ballot calls," said he, "For strength and for integritee, And power to solve with certaintee, 24 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. The problems of the centuree!" He spread his hands upon his knee, "But women ought to vote!" said she. This man, a candidate was he A city officer to be; Just then the door-bell jingled free,— A sable son of Afrikee Had called, the candidate to see,— "What does you pay for votes?" asked he. The candidate uneasilee With nervous hand caressed his knee,— "Call 'round election day," said he, "With Patsey Mack and John Magee," Then held the door all graciouslee, With candidatish courtesee. "Is that a voter?" queried she, "That he is strong, I must agree; But can he solve with certaintee The problems of the centuree?" The orator no more spake he, But madly pounded on his knee. 25 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. WOMEN OF TO-DAY. (To the Remonstrants.) BY MRS. CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON. You women of today who fear so much The woman of the future, showing how The dangers of her course are such and such— What are you now? Mothers and wives and housekeepers, forsooth! Great names you cry—full scope to rule and please! Room for wise age and energetic youth!— But are you these? Housekeepers! Do you, then, like those of yore, Keep house with power and pride, with grace and ease? No! You keep servants only:—what is more, You don't keep these! Wives, say you? Wives! Blessed indeed are they Who hold from Love the everlasting keys, Keeping your husbands' hearts;—alas the day! You don't keep these! And mothers? Pitying Heaven! Mark the cry From cradle death-beds—mothers on their knees! Why, half the children born, as children die! You don't keep these. And still the wailing babies come and go, And homes are waste, and husbands' hearts fly far. There is no hope until you dare to know The thing you are! Pasadena, Cal. 26 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. AN APPEAL FROM CELIE, MELIE AND VELIE: By their next friend, Eliza Sproat Turner. We are three tender, clinging things, With palpitating natures; We can't endure that gentlemen Should think of us as creatures, Who dress like frights, and want their rights, Or business to attend to; Or have their views, or ask the news, Or anything that men do. O listen, valued gentlemen, Don't let yourselves be blinded; We're not estranged, we're no way changed, And not the least strong-minded. We can't abide careers and things; We never touch an 'ism; We couldn't stand outside a sphere, Nor do a syllogism. We don't enjoy rude health, like some Nor mannish independence; We're helpless as three soft-shelled crabs, Without some male attendance. We need—oh, how we need—a guide; Secure, his views obtaining, Of what to like, and where to step, And whether it is raining. And when we roam, we wait for him To point with manly strictures, The landscape out, and say, "Behold!" Just as they do in pictures. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 27 We're trusting—confiding— Too easily we're blinded; We're clinging, and hanging— And truly feeble-minded. We disapprove the sort of girl Who calls for education, And sells her talents, like a man, For bold remuneration. We'd die before we'd learn a trade; We'd scorn to go to college; We know (from parsing Milton) how Unfeminine is knowledge. "God is thy law, thou mine," it says; Thou art my guide and mentor, My author and my publisher. Source, patentee, inventor. But we, we can do naught but cling, As on the oak the vine did; And we know nothing but to love; Indeed, we're feeble minded! —New Century. QUEENS OF THE REPUBLIC. At an annual meeting of the Nebraska Woman's Suffrage Association, Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton said: Would that I could awake in the minds of my country women the dignity of this demand for the right of suffrage; what it is to be queens in their own right; intrusted with 28 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. the power of self-government, possessed of all the privileges and immunities of American citizens. The ballot is the crown of honor and the sceptre of power in a republic; by it our social, religious and political relations are all regulated. Are not the educated women of merica as capable of wielding this power as Victoria of England, and is not individual sovereignty in a republic as exalted as in a monarchy? What American woman would scorn the position of Britain's Queen? And yet the position of an American citizen is prouder far, if the duties of self-government are fully discharged. Who ever heard of an heir apparent to a throne in the Old World abdicating his rights because some conservative politician or austere bishop doubted woman's capacity to govern? History affords no such example. Those who have had a right to a throne have invariably taken possession of it, and against intriguing cardinals, ambitious nobles and jealous kinsman fought to the death even, to maintain the royal prerogatives that by inheritance were theirs. When I hear American women, descendants of Jefferson, Hancock and Adams, say they do not want to vote, I feel that the blood of revolutionary heroes THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 29 must have long since ceased to flow in their veins. When I heard that a body of Massachusetts women had actually been before their Legislature to beg that the women of the State might not be enfranchised, I blushed for my sex. Suppose when the day dawned for Victoria to be crowned Queen of England, she had gone before the House of Commons and begged that such responsibilities might not be laid on her, declaring that she had not the moral stamina nor intellectual ability for the position; that her natural delicacy and refinement shrank from the encounter: that she was looking forward to the all-absorbing duties ofd omestic life, to a husband, children, home, to her influence in the social circle where the Christian graces are best employed. Suppose with a tremulous voice and a few stray tears in her blue eyes, her head drooping on one side she had said she knew nothing of the science of government: that a crown did not befit a woman's brow: that she had not the physical strength to even move her nation's flag, and much less to hold the sceptre of power over so vast an empire: that in case of war she could not fight, and hence she could not reign, as there must be force behind the throne, and 30 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. the force must be centered in the hand that governed. What would her Parliament have thought? What would other nations have thought? All alike would have been astounded and said: "The girl is demented; the blood in the house of Hanover has run out." Instead, however, of making such a pitiful spectacle of herself, she prepared herself by study and reflection for the exalted position she was to occupy and when the hour for her coronation arrived, though only seventeen years of age, she walked down the spacious aisles of Westminister Abbey, surrounded by the dignitaries of church and state, lords and ladies and diplomats, with a grace and dignity becoming the grandeur of the occasion. And there at the altar she took the oath "to support the civil laws, customs and statutes, the laws of God, the Protestant reformed religion, the Church of England, and promised security for the Church in Scotland," the Archbishop of Canterbury administering the oath and placing the crown wore by a long line of kings upon her brow. Thus she accepted her high honors with dignity, and the nation rang with plaudits for their youthful queen. 31 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. WOMEN. BY EUGENE DAVIS. Of creatures created the second, yet oh! undeniably first In the glory of form and figure, in symmetry, harmony, grace: Like a vision of wonderful beauty, seen in a dreamland, she burst On the earth, that leaped gladly to meet her, so sweet were the smiles of her face! For God in her eyes set the splendor, the crystalline lustre and light Of the brightest of stars that illuminate the blue fields of Heaven above; He wrought her fair cheeks into softness, her lips into buds of delight, And woke in her snowy white bosom the fires of immaculate love. Baptized in the dew of her kisses, the Titans of humankind sprang From the shrine of her womanly nature, with muscle, with brawn and with brain— The bravest of soldiers who battled, the sweetest of poets who sang, Whom she covered with fondest caresses, though she bore them in torture and pain. She has suckled the wisest of statesman, the king, and the scholar and sage. The tribune, whose words hot as lava, roused Millions to fight for the Right; The masters of mind, whose evangels go ringing from age into age, 32 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. The dreamers, whose food is their fancy, the students of learning and light! A maid in the freshness of springtide, in the dawn of her candor and youth, A wife with a heart's tender tendrils close twined round the choice of her love, A mother with tears for our folly, and balm for our sorrow and ruth, The greatest of blessings is woman bestowed upon man from above! Very dear in the sunniest weather, still dearer in darkest of skies, On the pathways of mercy and kindness you will find her for'er in the van; A foretaste of Heaven is gleaming from the depths of her rapturous eyes, For oh! she's a sunbeam from Eden—the link between angel and man! GIVE WOMAN A CHANCE. Selection from Wendell Philips' great speech at Worcester, Massachusetts, at the second Woman's Rights Convention. Woman stands at the door. She says "You tell me I have no intellect; give me a chance. You tell me I shall only embarrass politics; let me try." The only reply is the same stale argument that said to the Jews of Europe, "You are fit only to make money; you are not fit for the ranks of the army or the halls of parliament." How cogent the eloquent ap- 33 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. peal of Macauley,— "What right have we to take this question for granted? Throw open the doors of this House of Commons, throw open the ranks of the Imperial army, before you deny eloquence to the countrymen of Isaiah, or valor to the descendants of the Maccabees." It is the same now with us. Throw open the doors of Congress, throw open those court-houses: throw wide open the doors of your colleges, and give to the sisters of the De Staels and the Martineaus the same opportunities for culture that men have, and let the result prove what their capacity and intellect really are. When, I say, woman has enjoyed, for as many centuries as we have, the aid of books, the discipline of life, and the stimulus of fame, it will be time to begin the discussion of these questions, "What is the intellect of woman?"—"Is it equal to that of man?" Till then, all such discussion is mere beating of the air. We deny to any portion of the species the right to prescribe to any other portion its sphere, its education or its rights. We deny the right of any individual to prescribe to any other individual his amount of education, or his right. The sphere of each man, of each woman, of each individual, is that 34 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. sphere which he can, with the highest exercise of his powers, perfectly fill. The highest act which the human being can do, that is the act which God designed him to do. All that woman asks through this movement is, to be allowed to prove what she can do; to prove it by liberty of choice, by liberty of action, the only means by which it ever can be settled how much and what she can do. She can reasonably say to us, "I have never fathomed the depths of science; you have taught that it was unwomanly, and have withdrawn from me the means of scientific culture. I have never equalled the eloquence of Demosthenes; but you have never quickened my energies by holding up before me the crown and robe of glory, and the gratitude which I was to win. The tools, now, to him or her who can use them. Welcome me, henceforth, brother, to your arena; and let facts - not theories - settle my capacity, and therefore my sphere." We are not here to-night to assert that woman will enter the lists and conquer; that she will certainly achieve all that man has achieved; but this we say, "Clear the lists, and let her try." Some reply, "It will be a great injury to feminine delicacy and refinement THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 35 for woman to mingle in business and politics." I am not careful to answer this objection. Of all such objections, on this and kindred subjects, Mrs. President, I love to dispose in some such way as this: The broadest and most far-sighted intellect is utterly unable to forsee the ultimate consequences of any great social change. Ask yourself, on all such occasions, if there be any element of right and wrong in the question, any principle of clear natural justice that turns the scale. If so, take your part with the perfect and abstract right, and trust God to see that it shall prove the expedient. The questions, then, for me, on this subject, are these: Has God made woman capable - morally, intellectually, and physically - of taking this part in human affairs? Then, what God made her able to do, it is a strong argument that He intended she should do. Does our sense of natural justice dictate that the being who is to suffer under laws shall first personally assent to them; that the being whose industry government is to burden should have a voice in fixing the character and amount of that burden? Then, while a woman is admitted to the gallows, the jail and the tax lists, we have no right to debar 36 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. her from the ballot box. "But to go there will hurt that delicacy of character which we have always thought peculiarly her grace." I cannot help that. Let Him who created her capable of polities, and made it just that she should have a share in them, see to it that these rights which He has conferred do not injure the being He created. Is it for any human being to trample on the laws of justice and liberty, from an alleged necessity of helping God govern what he has made? I cannot help God govern His world by telling lies, or doing what my conscience deems unjust. How absurd to deem it necessary that any one should do so! When Infinate Wisdom established the rules of right and honesty, He saw to it that justice should be always the highest expediency. WAPELLO'S WISDOM. For who so helps woman, helps mankind. Old Wapello, an Indian chief of Iowa, said to the missionaries more than forty years ago: "You make a mistake when you teach our young braves. They go away to the hunt and on the warpath and forget what you have said. Teach our squaws. 37 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. They will teach all the children and their braves, and all will be learned." Even so. Only by enlightening and giving freedom to women, placing her as an equal, in all things before the law with man, can she attain to her best mental and moral estate, and only when this is attained can she know the full measure of her duty to herself, to society, to her husband, to her children, to her country, and to her God. Every step gained upward shows a broader view, a clearer light, whereby to guide her footsteps. FRANCES D. GAGE. WOMAN'S WORK. BY LEWIS MORRIS. [Written to be read at the opening of a Hospital for Women in St. Pancras, London; the peculiar feature of the new foundation being that the medical staff was to be composed entirely of women.] To women the Creator's hand has given To soothe the poor limbs racked with misery, And, with a blessed ministry of Heaven, Bid life's renascent force again to be. Who but her knows a pitying Presence stand Unwearying by childhood's restless bed, And with soft voice assuage, and tender hand, The fevered pulses and the aching head? 38 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. For her the endless mystery of pain, War, pestilence, the long wards choked with woe; The miseries which ruder souls appall, Sound on her ear a clear, high trumpet call Of duty, and her soul prepares to go Unfearing forth. Let her not go in vain! Let her not go in vain! For the great art Of healing is not brief, but hard and long; And whoso in her eyes would fain grow strong Must woo her with the mind as with the heart. Not less of pitying tenderness has she, The woman armed with Learning's triple shield, Who fronts the power of Pain and Misery, And of her lofty courage scorns to yield; Full-armed with knowledge, yet a woman still, A woman in quick thought and pitying eye, A woman with soft hand and accents mild, To soothe the pains of age, the suffering child, Filled with a deep, unfailing sympathy For the poor thralls of Fate's mysterious will. Raise we a Hospice, therefore, which shall give Woman to woman's need. Not the rude force Of man is all, nor thews and sinews coarse, But those fine spiritual blooms which live Within the woman. Not the body alone But the soul, too, she heals. Go forth, brave band, Among squalid dens, where women groan, Slaves through their lives, and bid them understand And rise up free; and to the heathen shore Of the old East, where now your sisters pine Pent in the dull Zenana's living tomb; Pierce with clear rays the sullen age-long gloom, And raise them body and soul, till more and more Shines forth some effluence of the light Divine! —N. Y. Independent. 39 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. THE NEW MESSAGE. BY MAY RILEY SMITH. If ghosts of women dead a century Steal back to earth, Then verily to-night one talked to me Upon my hearth; And the pathetic minor of her tones, Liquid with tears, Was like a plaintive murmer from far zones And distant years. "Think not that I am come to you," she said "This hallowed night, To gossip of the secrets of the dead, Or tell their plight. "I cannot sleep; for lo! the Christmas bells A new tune rang; New birth to woman! loud the paean swells In rhythmic clang. "New birth to woman!" Once no right had she To choose her place; Nor place had she save as man's courtesy Did grant her grace. "Sometimes, by beauty, trick or accident, Grim fate she crossed; But when from obesiance she unbent, Her power was lost. "O woman! to be robbed at last and crowned With dignity, Walking with lifted head your chosen round, Unfettered, free; 40 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. "The barberous traditions of the past Loosed from your feet; Life's richest goblet held to you at last, Brimming and sweet;— "Forget not those for whom too late, alas! Dawn flushed the sky, And to their spirits drain a silent glass; Of such am I. "Hark to the Christmas Bells! "Good will toward men, Peace on the earth, 'And unto women!"—chime they forth again— 'New birth! New birth!'" If ghosts of women dead a century Steal back to earth, Then this same hour one came and talked to me Beside my hearth. —Home-Maker Magazine. MISTRESS O'RAFFERTY "SPAKES." BY GRACE GREENWOOD. No! I wouldn't demane myself, Briget, Like you, in disputin' with min. Would I fly in the face of the blessid Apostles and Father Maginn? It isn't the talent I'm wanting; Sure my father, old Michael McCrary, Made a beautiful last speech and confession, When they hanged him in ould Tipperary. 41 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. So, Briget Muldoon, hould your talkin' About "Woman's Rights," and all that; Shure all the rights I want is the one right— To be a good help-mate to Pat; For he's a good husband, and niver Lays on me the weight of his hand, Except when he's far gone in liquor And I nag him, you'll plaise understand. Thrue for ye, I've one eye in mournin' That's because I disputed his right To take and spend all my week's earnin's At Tim Mulligan's wake Sunday night. But it is seldom, when I've done a-washin', He'll ask me for more'n half of the pay, And he'll toss me my share with a smile, dear, That's like a sweet mornin' in May. Now, where, if I rin to conventions, Will be Patrick's home comforts and joys? Who'll clane up his brogans for Sunday, Or patch up his old corduroys? If we take to the polls night and mornin' Our delicate charms will all flee, The dew will be brushed from the rose, dear, The down from the pache—don't you see? We'll soon take to shillalahs and shindies When we get to be sovereign electors, And turn all our husband's hearts from us; Then what will we do for protectors? We will have to be lawyers and judges, And such-like old malefactors; Or they'll make common councilmen of us; And where thin'll be our characters? 42 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Oh, Briget! God save us from votin', For as sure as the blissed sun rolls, We'll land in the State House or Congress! Then what will become of our souls? WOMAN'S DAY. BY MILLIE RENOUF PALMER. It is coming, sister women; we can hear it on the wind; 'Tis the earnest cry for freedom from our burdened womankind; 'Tis the battle call of woman, as she rises in her might To break her bonds of thraldom, to claim and get her right. We can hear the murmur, sisters, in our churches, in our homes. From every town and city this appeal for freedom comes. It is woman who is rising, she will show the world that she, In spite of all that man can do, determines to be free. Long she's worn the badge of serfdom, long her body, heart and brain Have been owned by man, her master, held by him with heavy chain. Long she's borne the yoke in silence, long obeyed her lord's commands, But she's broken now her fetters, and her freedom she demands. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 43 It is coming, we can see it, and not distant, sisters mine, When the wheels of Progress bring us Woman's Rights divine. When we sisters, free and fearless, side by side with men shall stand At the polls for truth and justice, with our ballots in our hand. Then rings, monopolies and trusts from the land shall banished be, And the millionaire and pauper alike claim equity. The corruption foul will hide its head, a bribe will be unknown, And honest men, with honest laws, will rule by right alone. It is coming, surely coming, they may fight it as they will, But 'mid storms of persecutions it will live and flourish still. Men have termed us weak, my sisters, but there's one thing they must note They'll find out , with all our weakness, we will never sell our vote. In the past they've made us playthings, toys, to charm an idle hour; That is over, and, my sisters, they must now concede our power. They may laugh to scorn our efforts, but to daunt us they will fail, It's the truth they have to cope with, and for us it shall prevail. Stand we then in solid phalanx, heart with heart and hand to hand, 44 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Never breaking ranks or resting, while injustice rules our land. Never falter, never waver, fighting inch by inch our way, Till by courage, faith and patience, we for women win the day. Mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts, gird your armour for the fight, Traced across our floating standard be our watchword, Equal Right. ROLL ONWARD, WAVES OF PROGRESS BY THOMAS S. COLLIER Roll onward, waves of Progress, till you sweep Want and oppression from the homes of earth, Making each heart the haunt of laughing mirth, And joyous love, that every soul may keep A vigil with the thoughts that swiftly leap, To meet the purpose for which man has birth, Generous Endeavor, and unsullied worth, And Honor, noblest harvest he can reap. Roll onward, waves of Progress, till the world Has not, on its wide face, a single wrong; When man, indeed, shall like his Maker prove Roll on, till every passion flag is furled, And in each home echoes the glorious song That tells the presence of a perfect love. -Portland Transcript. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 45 THE PIVOTAL QUESTION Says Joe to Sam, in fierce debate Upon the woman question: "You've answered well all other points, Now here's my last suggestion: "When woman goes to cast her vote– Some miles away, it may be– Who then, I ask, will stay at home To rock and tend the baby?" Said Sam, "I own you've made my case Appear a little breezy. Suppose you put this question by, And ask me something easy! "But, since the question seems to turn On this as on its axis, Just get the one who rocked it when She went to pay her taxes!" A BURDEN CONCERNING WOMANHOOD. As a flame out of God into my heart this message came. The Age of Womanhood is come, And the time of the Paradise family appears; When the yoke of man shall be broken forever, And the wickedness of his rule shall cease. For the term of her bondage is served out, The year of her humiliation is ended, The hour of her deliverance has come; And she shall receive at the hands of Jehova Jesus Double blessings for all her pain. 46 The Suffrage Dime Speaker. Lift up thy voice, O Womanhood and cry: Cry afar to the ends of the earth, and say: Woman is free: Woman is free: Woman is free forevermore. By the life of God within her, By his light in her inmost heart, She shall guide in the family life, She shall rule in the Eden day. Blessed be God the Father in heaven, Blessed be Jesus his Son; For the curse upon woman is taken away, And the day of her glory has come. Jesse H. Jones. North Abbington, Mass. WAS HE HENPECKED? By Phoebe Cary. [Suitable for Dialogue between boy and girl.] "I'll tell you what it is, my dear," Said Mrs. Dorking, proudly, "I do not like that Chanticleer Who crows o'er us so loudly. "And since I must his laws obey, And have him walk before me, I'd rather like to have my say Of who should lord it o'er me." "You'd like to vote?" he answered slow, "Why, treasure of my treasures, What can you or what should you know Of public men or measures? The Suffrage Dime Speaker. 47 "Of course, you have ability, Of nothing am I surer; You're quite as wise, perhaps, as I,— You're better, too, and purer. "I'd have you just for mine alone; Nay, so do I adore you, I'd put you queen upon a throne, And bow myself before you." "You'd put me? now that is just what I do not want, precisely; I want myself to choose the spot That I can fill most wisely." "My dear, you're talking like a goose— Unhenly, and improper"— But here again her words broke loose; In vain he tried to stop her. "I tell you, though she never spoke So you could understand her, A goose knows when she wears a yoke, As quickly us a gander." "Why, bless my soul! what would you do? Write out a diagnosis? Speak equal rights? Join with their crew, And dine with the Sorosis? "And shall I live to see it, then— My wife a public teacher? And would you be a crowing hen— That dreadful, unsexed creature?" "Why, as to that, I do not know, Nor see why you should fear it; If I can crow, why, let me crow;— If I can't, you won't hear it!" 48 The Suffrage Dime Speaker. "Now why," he said, "can't such as you Accept what we assign them? You have your rights, 'tis very true, But then, we should define them! "We would not peck you cruelly,— We would not buy and sell you; And you, in turn, should think, and be, And do, just what we tell you! "I do not want you made, my dear, The subject of rude men's jest; I like you in your proper sphere, The circle of a hen's nest. "I'd keep you in the chicken yard, Safe, honored and respected; From all that makes us rough and hard Your sex should be protected," "Pray, did it ever make you sick— Have I gone to 'the dickens'— Because you let me scratch and pick Both for myself and chickens?" "Oh, that's a different thing, you know,— Such duties are parental; But for some work to do, you'd grow Quite weak and sentimental." "Ah! yes, it's well for you to talk About parental duty! Who keeps your chickens from the hawk? Who stays in nights, my beauty?" "But madam, you may go each hour, Lord bless your pretty faces! We'll give you anything but power And honor, trust and places. The Suffrage Dime Speaker. 49 "We'd keep it hidden from your sight How public scenes are carried; Why, men are coarse, and swear, and fight"- "I know it, dear; I'm married!" "Why, now you gabble like a fool! But what's the use of talking? 'Tis yours to serve, and mine to rule, I tell you, Mrs. Dorking!" "Oh, yes," she said, "you've all the sense; Your sex are very knowing; Yet some of you are on the fence, And only good at crowing." "Ah! preciousest of precious souls, Your words with sorrow fill me; To see you voting at the polls I really think would kill me. "To mourn my home's lost sanctity; To feel you did not love me; And worse, to see you fly so high, And have you roost above me!" "Now, what you fear in equal rights I think you've told precisely; That's just about the 'place it lights,'" Said Mrs. Dorking, wisely. 50 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. CHIVALRY AND TRUTH. 'Tis said that Knighthood has passed away That its heroes rest 'neath the sod, and main, That its echoing deed down the ages stray, But its soul thrills never the years again. Ah! the germs of chivalry true and grand, Lie hid in the smouldering breast of youth, Wheresoe'er we gaze in our own fair land, And spring to life at the call of Truth. Does she speak to hearts with the trumpet's blast? Then vales resound to the measured tread, Of those who fight till the need is past, Though the ground be strewn with heroes dead. Does she call for a peaceful, holy strife, Where the field is won by a bloodless fray—. Then Knighthood springs once again to life And victors follow her thorny way. Higher and higher she calls the band, Whose hearts beat ever so strong and true, And a hero's heart nerves a hero's hand, All the works of progress to dare and do. To protect the weak, though himself it be, From vice and falsehood of deepest dye, By the vow of the modern knight; and he With the early chevalier well may vie. No shield or armour he needs today But noble deeds, that are "steps toward God," As they were in the misty far away Of the dark young years that Knighthood trod. "He is strong as ten for his heart is pure," No flagon streams on his festal board, "My soul," quoth he, "I will thus insure. And lengthened years that wise men hoard. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 51 So the world moves on with a rhythmic stride, As Truth calls back from her mountain heights, The laurel grows on the mountain side, That I weave to crown my bravest knights; Higher and higher they climb and shout, While wrong and error are trampled down. Better conquer self, than a host to rout, And the White Cross Knight wins the brightest crown. Heaven's dawn kisses thy fair young face! Lead on, sweet Truth, into paths of light! Till in tears nor sorrow shall woman trace One shadow resting on manhood's might. Till gentle justice is thought, and sung, Spoken, acted, and prayed as well. Till right, by your high born Knights is wrung From the years, and earth has no wrong to tell. —Adelaide D. Kingsley, Blue Earth, Minn. THE COMMONWEALTH. And Woman? Doth she breathe the morning air, And feel the genial radiance of the sun That rendereth every land-scape yet more fair When day's begun, And booming on the sand-bar doth she hear The ocean wave, and lift her eyes to scan The wide sky stretching o'er her far and near, The same as man? Do flowers scent the summer breeze, and deck The woods and meadows, fields, and wayside path 52 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. For her, do the golden sun-beams fleck The shade that hath Its shifting part to play o'er the brush and burr, And doth the song-bird wing, uplifting, fan A yellow sea of shining light for her, The same as man? The music of the rippling mountain stream, The gentian blue that 'scapes the Alpine snow, The fair frost-rime, and frozen drops that gleam Like gems below, The myriad offerings Nature's opulence Out-pours, have these, since first the race began, Reached woman through the avenues of sense, The same as man? And doth she know both human joy and woe? Doth Hope e'er lead, and proud ambition urge? Do holy fires of indignation glow When wrong doth surge Like shrouding mist athwart the restless world? Doth courage teach a woman how to span A sudded danger-torrent, tossed and whirled, The same as man? With loyalty unswerving doth she grasp The anchor of grand faith in God, and friend And worthy foe? Doth Pity swift unhasp Her heart to tend The sorrows at her side? and borne above The petty ills that thwart her daily plan, Doth she divine the pricelessness of love, The same as man? Doth reverent worship lift her soul and move Her hand to better deed on higher plane? THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 53 Doth ardent love of country ever prove Our nation's gain In woman? All emotion, high, and fine, Ignoble, tending upward where it can, Doth woman feel, God given and divine, The same as man? Doth steam or streamlet turn a water-wheel, Doth yonder lever lift its might weight, Doth flying engine keep its track of steel And bear its freight, Doth dipping oar, or snowy wind filled sail Propel a craft, doth field-glass aid to scan, And seed sown grow for woman, strong or frail, The same as man? Doth woman, by a motion of the hand, Let loose the lightning on the trembling wire And send a message forth to thrill the land— Though with fire? Doth she lay hold of Nature's changeless laws, And put her will before them in the van Compelling service for some worthy cause, The same as man? Doth thought lead on to thought within her brain Divining and Creating? Doth there burn The fire of genius in her soul? Doth pain Teach her to yearn, Then sing, or paint, or speak, or work with power To move the world, and lift some hateful van? Doth woman meet the greatest needs of the hour, The same as man? Then is she in the Common-wealth of God, An equal heir with man to common good; 54 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Made rich in blessings free to king and clod; Her womanhood As noble as the manhood at her side; Aye, then is woman wrought in God's great plan To face the universe, whate'er betide, The same as man. O native land, thy woman patriot pleads Thou mayst be first among the powers of earth To shape such common-wealth as this! Past deeds Attest thy worth, And seal thy right to lead in Freedom's cause; Bring in the best, most God-like life the van; Let woman stand before all human laws The same as man. MINNIE S. SAVAGE Read at annual meeting Wis. W. S. A. A NEW STAR WYOMING. A star has risen in the sky, It shines within our flag's blue space; Before its beams the storm clouds fly, That erst have darkened heaven's face, Before its beams the storm clouds fly, And hearts are lifted up on high To freedom's lofty dwelling place. O shining star, where truth and love With hands conjoined serenely reign; Thou star, all other stars above, Let thy clear beams heal strife and pain; THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 55 Thou stars, all other stars above, Toward thy light the ages move; The golden hour has struck again. We hail thy coming with delight, Sweet Morning Star, we saw thee rise After long vigils of the night; Thy blessed coming filled our eyes With happy tears; yes through the night We waited longing for this sight, Yet, greet thee now with glad surprise. Thou brightest jewel of our crown, Wyoming, King and Queen of States, The world shall hear of thy renown, For peace shall dwell within thy gates; The world shall hear of thy renown, Thy fame shall spread from town to town, Mankind upon thy mandate waits. Blest by thy hills and fertile plains, Thy rivers, streams of Paradise, Thy freedom for the earth regains Mankind's dominion - and most wise; Thy freedom for the earth regains Immunity from war which stains All Nations' flags in all men's eyes. We call our country free and great, But thou alone art truly free, May God uplift thee, new-born State, Ensign and Crown of Liberty May God uplift thee, new born State, And prosper thee with glorious fate Until each star shall follow thee; 56 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Until each star within that space Of blue with love and truth shall shine, Till man and woman, face to face, Shall know God framed thy laws divine, Till man and woman, face to face, Shall make this earth Gods Resting place, And unto Him their hearts resign. —Ella Dietz Clymes. WOMAN! HER COMING SOVEREIGNTY. In these barbaric ages it is meet That man should be the sovereign of earth; He sways the sceptre by inherent worth, He rightly sits in his imperial seat; (For now the callow race must fight and cheat). But ere long he must abdicate. The birth Of new conditions from his palace hearth, Calls to the purple his companion sweet. Blest woman, though shalt be the sovereign Of the fair years which are to be, when love, Not force, the triumphs of the world shall win And the eagle be succeeded by the dove. Blest woman, queen that shall be, even now Earth's crown is being put upon thy brow. —Franklin E. Denton. 57 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. WYOMING Proud state of the Union! we love thee; A symbol of freedom thy name, The folds of our flag wave above thee, The star of thy greatness to claim. No stain on thy pearl white bosom, No rust on thy heartstrings of hope, Oh sweet, budding, beautiful blossom, That blooms on the Rockies' east slope. Sweet goddess of justice! a token Of rev'rence and honor we send. The chains that bind woman are broken, Her visions of grandeur extend. The future is dawning with praises Of millions unknown and unborn; The banner of freedom now raises To usher the glorious morn. Bright gem of the Rockies! thy lustre Is lighting the path of the goal, Where emblems of liberty cluster To brighten and cheer ev'ry soul. Proud star of our grand constellation, Shine bright for humanity's sake, While woman now sings exultation, Inspiring the race to awake. —Louis N. Crill, Jr., Richard, So. Dakota. 58 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. THE EXAMPLE OF PORTIA. BY MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. Ah, when a woman will, a woman can, - Not less a lily, though with heart of oak! Strange that Bassanio, when the sweet voice broke The court's deep silence, as a perfumed fan Sets air in motion, did not bridge the span Which lay between him and the doctor's cloak, And know the pleader who for mercy spoke! - A woman would; Bassanio was a man. A lawyer, Portia, in the old laws read - If she could plead in open court, as well Her sisters now can plead, with hearts above All thoughts of any man, to law-arts wed, Until a nation's plaudits loudly swell, - And yet our Portia's tongue was fired by love. -February Lippincott's WOMAN'S PLEA FOR FREEDOM. BY EMMA GHENT CURTIS. I cam with you from Britain's shores When the fires of persecution glowed; By your side on bleak New England's strand I helped withstand the tyrant's code. The shrill winds whistled round my form, My feet trod through deep snows; I bent my shoulders to your toil, I smiled at fortune's blows. THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. 59 You threw the shackles from your soul - In your worship you were free; But when I asked to speak in church, You rose and exiled me. When the clouds of revolution lowered And you grappled tyrant foes, I gave my jewels to your cause, I stifled all my woes. My kettle I gave up for guns, Of my spoons I moulded balls; Through weary hours I wove your clothes; I echoed freedom's calls. Then I pleased your ear with words of cheer; I rejoiced that you were free; But when I asked to be let to vote, You loudly hissed at me. When grim rebellion reared its head I was at my post again; I tilled the fields, I nursed your sick, I soothed the wounded's pain. On your dark and bloody battle-fields I sought the dying out; I helped to drag the wounded back From the fury of charge and rout. Through summer's heat and winter's cold In your hospitals I toiled - Had my weak arm not supported you, Treason had not been foiled. And when the giant treason fell, And the black from chains was free, I asked to go, but you shook your head; Freedom was not for me. 60 THE SUFFRAGE DIME SPEAKER. Bravely you fought that an alien race Might march out from prison and pain; Will you let the lips that you daily kiss Cry out to you in vain? Is freedom sweet to the strong alone? Do the trembling weak love chains? Must I have my aspirations crushed Till only dull clay remains? Is there naught, O strong one, to be admired In a patience that never resists? O, be great, be noble, be merciful— Take the shackles from off my wrists! —Canon City, Colorado. SUFFRAGE PLAYS To be had from the National American Woman Suffrage Association 505 Fifth Avenue, New York ALLIED PRINTERS TRADES COUNCIL UNION LABEL 33 The following plays, duologues and monologues have been selected with special reference to the limitations of amateur production. The fees are due the day following the performance. Checks should be made payable to the National American Woman Suffrage Association. The Headquarters Office, by arrangement with the various authors of the plays, retains a five per cent. commission, and forwards all royalties monthly. The English plays on the following list are provided by arrangement with Miss Edith Craig and with the Actresses' Franchise League of London, by which this office becomes sole agency in America. *An Allegory. By Vera Wentworth. For 3 men and 3 women. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 $5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--A picturesque presentation of Woman, in chains, struggling to keep up with Man. She is baffled by Fear and Prejudice until Courage comes to her rescue. The lines are well written, and it is capable of great beauty in costuming. +An Anti-Suffrage Monologue. By Marie Jenney Howe. For 1 woman. Time, 15 minutes..... .03 No royalty Postpaid, .05 Synopsis:--An anti-suffragist makes a speech. An extremely humorous burlesque on typical anti-suffrage arguments. *Before Sunrise. By Bessie Hatton. For 2 men and 4 women. Time, 45 minutes.... .15 $5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--The old-fashioned idea of a girl's helplessness in making a perfunctory marriage is the theme of this play. The girl's best friend, an independent young woman with modern spirit, tries to save her, but the influence of the parents and lover are too strong, and she weakly succumbs. +Cinderelline; or, The Little Red Slipper. By Florence Kiper. For 1 man and 4 women. (The male part may be taken by a woman.) Time, 30 minutes..... .25 5.00 Postpaid, .27 Synopsis:--A charmingly poetical allegory representing the New Woman as a modern Cinderella, and the two types of the Old Woman embodied in the sex parasite and the domestic drudge as the wicked sisters. +A Dream of Brave Women. A Pageant. By Emily Sargent Lewis. For 20 to 30 women, the same number of men, and 3 children. Time, 1 hour...... .10 5.00 Postpaid, .12 Synopsis:--A group of eighteen verses to be read to accompany a series of eighteen tableaux showing women famous in American history. For the concluding verse, which is applicable only to Pennsylvania, Mrs. Lewis will, on application, substitute one suitable to any given state without extra charge. * English. + American. +The End of the Battle. By Jane Stone. For 3 women. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--On the eve of an anti-suffrage meeting, a suffragist visits the president of the anti-suffrage organization, and makes such a stirring appeal for all women to stand together that the anti-suffragist rushes off to her meeting to make a suffrage speech. Miss Stone has organized a company, including Eugenie Woodward, who played the leading part in a successful performance given in New York, and is prepared to produce this play for individuals and organizations. For terms, apply to Miss Jane Stone, National Arts Club, New York City. +Election Day. By Emily Sargent Lewis. For 3 men, 5 women, 1 child. Time, 35 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--Shows a prosperous and conventional anti appealing to the various other characters to use their influence or to cast their votes against a woman suffrage amendment. Meeting with failure in each instance, she turns about and declares her intention of going over to the popular side. +The Girl from Colorado. By Selina Solomons. For 5 men and 5 women. Time, 40 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--Written especially for the California campaign, but entirely applicable elsewhere. The heroine, a girl from Colorado, visits her "anti" relatives, and the play culminates in their conversation, in which two love affairs are amusingly interwoven. *How the Vote Was Won. By Cicely Hamilton and Christopher St. John. For 2 men and 8 women. Time, 15 minutes...... .25 5.00 Postpaid, .27 Synopsis:--A farcical situation due to the decision of every woman in London to go to her nearest male relative and demand support until given the ballot. All the women act simultaneously, and this play shows the result in one family only. It is quite sufficient. +A Home Thrust. By Mrs. Charles Caffin. For 2 women. Time, 20 minutes...... .15 2.50 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--A powerful scene between a woman of leisure (an anti) and a charwoman, in which the former sympathizes in a remote sort of way with the hardships of the latter and her class. The charwoman tells her story, the climax of which is the discovery that it was the son of this very leisure woman who had attempted the ruin of her little daughter. It is exceedingly well written. +If Women Voted. By Inez Milholland. For 1 man and 1 woman. Time, 10 minutes...... .15 No royalty Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--An amusing Irish duologue, in which the woman holds her own, and shakes the man's complacency by her understanding of what a vote can accomplish. Excellent propaganda. * English. + American. *Lady Geraldine's Speech. By Beatrice Harraden. For 7 women. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--A woman doctor, who is a strong suffragist, is begged by an old friend to help her prepare an anti-suffrage speech. The doctor yields, and the friend is converted in the process, with the aid of a lively group of professional women of various sorts, who are friends of the doctor. *Miss Appleyard's Awakening. By Evelin Glover. For 3 women. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--Highly diverting little play, in which a rampageous "anti," in marshalling her arguments against suffrage, is routed point by point by a fellow "anti," whose eyes she unwittingly opens in the process. *The Maid and the Magistrate. By Graham Moffat. For 1 man and 1 woman. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 2.50 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--A lawyer proposes to a suffragette who, unknown to him, had been arrested that day, and was out on bail, while he, unknown to her, had just been made magistrate, and she discovers that her case will come before him for trial. The situation is cleverly sustained. +Our Friends, the Anti-Suffragists. By Mary Shaw. For 12 or more women. Time, 45 minutes..... .25 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--A satirical comedy skit, equally effective on a stage or a platform, presenting a rehearsal of the pleas which a number of anti-suffragist speakers are to present before a hearing of a state legislature. Three "indifferents" who are present are converted to suffrage in the process. Highly amusing. +The Parrot's Cage. By Mary Shaw. For 6 women. Time, 45 minutes..... .25 5.00 Postpaid, .27 Synopsis:--The stage represents the inside of a bird-cage, with the characters costumed to represent parrots, discussing the proper sphere and duty of parrots. By analogy, various types of bondwomen are contrasted vividly with the type of the freewoman. Might be done without the setting and costumes, merely as a reading because of the high quality of the dialogue. *Press Cuttings. By Bernard Shaw. For 3 men and 3 women. Time, 45 minutes.... .25 5.00 Postpaid, .27 Synopsis:--A most comical farce, a burlesque on Asquith and the "force" argument. It requires skill in acting, but is an opportunity for brilliant success, if well done. *The Pot and the Kettle. By Cicely Hamilton and Christopher St. John. For 2 men and 3 women. Time, 25 minutes..... .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis:--The amusing dilemma of an anti-suffragist who loses her temper at a meeting and becomes "militant," from the sad results of which she is magnanimously saved by her suffragette cousin. *English. +American. +Something To Vote For. By Charlotte Perkins Gilman. For 2 men and 7 women. Time, 50 minutes . . . . . . . . .10 5.00 Postpaid, 12 Synopsis: - The corrupt head of a milk trust tries to secure the support of a woman's club, the president of which he would like to marry. All the members are anti-suffragists. His efforts are frustrated by a Colo- rado woman doctor, aided by an honest milk inspector. +A Suffrage Rummage Sale. By Mary Winsor. For 2 women and 2 men. Time, 20 minutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .05 1.00 Postpaid, .06 Synopsis: - Represents an auction in which the articles for sale typify old prejudices with respect to woman. It is interrupted by Mrs. Grundy, Mrs. Partington and the Mad Hatter, but the auctioneer, a suffragist, has the last word. +Three Women. By Charlotte Perkins Gilman. For 1 man and 3 women. Time, 45 minutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 5.00 Postpaid, 12 Synopsis: - The play shows a mother who had given up her career as a singer for love; her sister, who had given up love for her career as a painter, and her daughter, who insists on having both love and a career, and her fiancé acquiesces after a struggle. +A Voting Demonstration or An Election in Primerville By Kate Mills Fargo. For 7 women and 8 men. Time, 20 minutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15 5.00 Postpaid, .17 Synopsis: - Shows the various mistakes in voting that might be made by uninformed women voters. This play would probably not be appropriate except in a state where women had recently been enfranchised, where it would be useful to educate the new voters in the use of the ballot. *A Woman's Influence. By Gertrude Jennings. For 1 man and 4 women. Time, 25 minutes . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 5.00 Postpaid, 12 Synopsis: - A clever showing-up of the "indirect influence' idea. The characters are an intelligent young married woman and her friend, who are bent on legislation to ameliorate sweat-shop work; the husband, who won't take his wife seriously; a clinging vine type of woman, who tries to influence the husband; and a sweat-shop worker. The husband's eyes are opened at last. *English. +American. From E.A.McFadden 113 Lakeview Ave. Cambridge, Mass. Rough Outline of a Scenario For a WOMAN'S SUFFRAGE PAGEANT. The general plan of this is to take something from Miss Josephine Hammond's idea of the procession of burden bearers in her Everywoman's Road, and combine it with Mrs Mark's Spirit of Injustice, developing this theme of the injustice of man's laws to the women burden-bearers of the present day, and presenting it in a series of little scenes which are bound together in a sort of play in which the characters are nameless typical figures: thus, — Possibly a brief Prologue, a grave figure making some brief speech, this if it seems necessary to strike an opening chord, to put the audience in the proper mood, though the main speeches are to be made by the characters themselves. Then in the background appears a sinister figure of a man in judicial robes, typifying Man's Law, and other figures, to enforce the law, to keep order etc, the attendant spirits [?] of a court-room but all kept symbolic, suggestive, not made everyday and realistic. These figures are all men. There enters to this judge a procession of women pleading for Justice. They come in one at a time and they represent the various forms of injustice from which women suffer in various countries, at the present day. They, too are symbolic, and yet as real in their agony as the woman in the next street. Each speaks in broken biting vivid phrase, pouring out the bitterness of her heart, pleading for justice. The following figures are suggested, there could be many others. 1. The wife who has worked all her life with her husband 2 to earn their home but finds at his death that he has willed it away from her. 2. The woman whose children have been taken from her by her husband. (Fancy the sort of speech that Massachusetts woman who killed her five children rather than have them taken so, would have poured out, had she had the power of moving speech and the chance to plead for her babies.) 3. The white slave. 4. The tenement mother who lives under dreadful conditions because of poor building laws, her children around her. 5. The mother whose baby is dead owing to bad milk. 6. The woman who works for unlimited hours, dependent on the greed of her employer. 7. The young working girl who is barely able to keep body and soul together and who pleads wistfully for some clean fun. 8. The little girl who begs for a place in the city to dance and play. (these last two might typify "The Spirit of Youth in the City Streets".) 9. The woman whose husband cant get work because children can do it cheaper and so she is forced to send her children into the mill. 10. The woman whose men have been killed in war, she comes (with her starving children tugging at her skirts) begging for peace. These enter, as cases might in an ordinary court-room address themselves to the judge, he questions briefly, hears them impatiently, his attitude is half indifferent, half sardonic. The attitude of the judge is mirrored in his attendants. In each case the plea is disregarded, passed upon adversely: 3 this one "would not be constitutional," that "would not conform to the judge's views upon public policy," "the law reads thus and so," etc, etc. These cases could be interspersed with others in which prosperous looking business man, who enter, state their wants, - the attendants whisper to the judge that this man can command votes, that one represents such and such a ward, a third is "one of your constituents" etc. and the judge, alert, obliging, gives each his wish. One of these men might be a factory owner who has been arrested because through his criminal carelessness, his place has been burned killing many girls. (The Triangle fire.). The case is dismissed. The women whose petitions are refused do not go out, but are swept back into the dark corners of this cavernous hall of justice. At last all have been heard, Court is adjourned, the Judge prepares to depart. As he passes down from his high seat, and goes toward the door, skinny arms are stretched out to him, and a low wail of "Justice, justice and mercy! Man, have pity on us!" rises from the dark around him. He laughs, bids them get back to their kitchens, where they belong, his attendants echo his jeers, and his laughter. As he goes out he beckons to the pretty young girl who is trying to live on starvation wages, and tells her he will look out for her, - she shrinks from him, but he slips his arm around her and draws her with him. They exit. The women are left. Then the oldest and most wretched of the women rises, maddened by the brutal laugh, and urges in broken, impassioned speech that they revolt and fight for fairer laws. Here enters a very beautiful, gorgeously dressed woman 4 who asks what the excitement is about. Voices out of the crowd answer her: "Justice," -- "peace," --"a living wage," -- and the wail of the woman mourning for her child rises again. Then the anti-suffragist makes them a nice condescending little speech, presenting her attitude fairly, urging them to be womanly, to go back to their homes, to make themselves as beautiful as possible, to smile at the judge, and use their feminine influence. And she tells them how much she gets that way and how little she needs the vote. She exits. The woman who comes from the tenement refuses to accept this theory of life, to go back to her home till she is given the power to make that home clean and decent. Then enters a woman's right's leader. Here is a chance for a good compact moving little suffrage speech. It is the first word of hope these unhappy souls have heard. They respond to it with enthusiasm. (Could something on the order of the Trafalgar Square meeting scene in VOTES FOR WOMEN by Miss Robbins be worked into the play for the end of this act? Curtain. 5 Act 2. Should be shorter, altogether joyous, picturing the rejoicing of women where they have won the vote. This could be made a sort of international procession, made up of women from all the countries where women have the vote, at the last, California, China and the new states which win at the November elections. Here the other half of Mrs Marks' beautiful idea could be used, that of having a man and woman of equal height walking hand in hand and bearing the child aloft on their shoulders. Troups of women singing suffrage songs, of young girls dancing, little girls playing, could vary the processional. This is all the barest suggestion and could be elaborated indefinitely. Boston Equal Suffrage Association for Good Government EQUAL SUFFRAGE SONG SHEAF by EUGENIE M. RAYE-SMITH COME VOTE, LADIES! (Tune: "Good-night, Ladies!") Come vote, ladies; come vote, ladies; come vote, ladies; The civic call obey. Gladly will we cast a vote, cast a vote, cast a vote, Gladly will we cast a vote On Election Day! TEN CENTS A COPY Dedicated to Our Leader in the Land REV. ANNA HOWARD SHAW Copyright, 1912, by Eugenie M. Raye-Smith. Equal Suffrage Song Sheaf. By Eugénie M. Rayé-Smith. CONTENTS. (Tune in brackets.) Page. March of Men of Justice ("Men of Harlech") ... 2 God Bless Our Noble Cause ("Russian Hymn") ... 3 "Votes for Women" Sure to Win ("Yankee Doodle") ... 3 There's Nothing to Stop Us from Voting ("We Won't Go Home Until Morning") ... 4 Marching to Victory and Freedom ("Marching Through Georgia" ... 4 Woman's Song of Union ("Suwanee River") ... 5 Sing of Woman Free ("John Brown's Body") ... 6 Bring It to Pass in the Year ("Bring Back My Bonnie") ... 6 Song of the Harrassed Man Voter (Wearing of the Green) ... 7 Welcome to Thee ("Wedding March" from Lohengrin) ... 8 Womanhood, True Womanhood ("Maryland, My Maryland") ... 8 When Woman Comes to Her Own ("When Johnny Comes Marching Home") ... 9 Set Your Daughters Free ("Wait for the Wagon") ... 10 How Can Such Things Be? ("Oh, Susannah!") ... 10 Plea to Legislators - Men in Law-Halls ("Austria") ... 11 In the Name of the State ("Bonnie Dundee") ... 12 Next Election Day ("Tramp, Tramp") ... 12 On the Way to Vote ("Coming Thro' the Rye") ... 13 The Homeland Guard ("The Watch on the Rhine") ... 14 The Call of Home and Country ("The Marsellaise") ... 14 There Is a Voter in the Town ("There is a Tavern") ... 15 At the Gateway ("The Lorelei") ... 16 Published by Eugénie M. Rayé-Smith, Richmond Hill, New York City. MARCH OF MEN OF JUSTICE (Tune: "March of the Men of Harlech.") Men of justice, men true-hearted, Sons of war-sires long departed, Hark, the call they bravely started Ringing round the world! 'Twas the call for rights but human, Rights then due to every true man, Now proclaimed to the rights of woman, By her flag unfurled! Fling its folds a-flying! Then beneath it vying, The world shall know You trust her so You yield her rights undying. Onward, 'tis your country needs her; Bravest he who quickly heeds her, Noblest he who proudly leads her Forth in Freedom's name! Thorny paths of pride and power, Paths where beetling errors tower, Paths where secret interests cower, These your route shall be. Hearts of steel, can such dismay you? No, the goal of right will stay you, Light in woman's life repay you When you hail her free! Lift her banner higher! Oh, let none deny her! The height appears, The goal of years! She wins with manhood by her! Progress long foreshown through ages Now proclaims you both her sages, Equal now on glory's pages, One in Freedom's name! 2 SUFFRAGE HYMN: GOD BLESS OUR NOBLE CAUSE! (Tune: "Russian Hymn.") God bless our noble cause. May it victorious Triumph o'er prejudice, o'er error and night: Moving resistless onward, till when all glorious, Woman and man stand forth in equal right! To Thee in hope we turn, Mighty Defender, Champion of helplessness, of innocence and truth. Lo! woman brings her plea, and lo! to attend her, See here her helpless charges, age and youth! God of the Universe, righteous and holy In Thy sight is this fight to safeguard the race! Give to the mothers, then, howe'er poor and lowly, Weapons to fight the Beast in earth's high place! "VOTES FOR WOMEN," SURE TO WIN. (Tune: "Yankee Doodle.") It happened once in England fair That woman's mind got started On thinking suffrage rights her share, From her unjustly parted, That laws and taxes she should heed In which she had no say, sir, To her fair thought seemed false indeed; She cried, "We'll not obey, sir." Chorus - "Votes for women," keep it up; Never mind what party; "Votes for women," sure to win! Sing it strong and hearty! "We'll show the world through word and deed By us the vote is wanted; Let legislators now take heed; Our courage is undaunted!" The struggle waxes fierce and strong; With zeal these women burning, Will bring the men to own their wrong, All weak traditions spurning! 3 To cousins now across the sea Strong hope is thus imparted. They need no force to set them free, They turn to men true-hearted. What women will in this good land 'Tis done before you speak, sir, With loyal word and willing hand They're given what they seek, sir! THERE'S NOTHING TO STOP US FROM VOTING. (Tune: We Won't Go Home Until Morning.") There's nothing to stop us from voting, Once and again in the year! Some men are afraid of our voting, But they are tyrants, my dear! To tax without representing, Will spill more tea overboard! So, come quick, give us the vote, sir, Have done with this quarreling! MARCHING TO VICTORY AND FREEDOM. (Tune: "Marching Through Georgia.") Come and join the marching throng, My sisters, do you hear? Singing as we pass along Our suffrage cause so dear; Singing till the echoes answer back a shout of cheer, Marching to victory and freedom! Chorus—Hurrah! hurrah! we bring the victory! Hurrah! hurrah! the vote to make us free! So we'll sing of suffrage from the mountains to the sea, Marching to victory and freedom! 4 Bring the golden banner, girls, To guide us on our way; How its message bright unfurls And helps us win the day! How its very color makes the spirit strong and gay, Marching to victory and freedom! Thus we make a pathway here for citizens to be; Thus we make a pathway clear For women to be free; Thus we drive resistance from the mountains to the sea, Marching to victory and freedom! WOMAN'S SONG OF UNION. (Tune: "Suwanee River.") Way off across the waste of waters, Far, far away, Hear now the call of England's daughters, Herald of Freedom's day: "We greet you, sisters of a nation Born from our side, Joint heirs in civic right and station, One common law our guide!" Chorus—All the world is one great union, Equal rights our lay! Come sisters, join the vast communion, Help usher in our day! Back ringing o'er the waste of waters, Where echoes play, Hark! voices of Columbia's daughters Join answer on the way: "With joy profound and true devotion Our prayers we blend, Our band united by old ocean, One human goal our end!" 5 SING OF WOMAN FREE! (Tune: "John Brown's Body.") Hoary Winter has retreated, And the Spring is dancing here; All the dreary cold has fleeted, Warmth and sunlight now appear. We have reached the height of gladness in the bright time of the year To sing of woman free! Chorus - Marching with the May sky o'er us, With our golden flag before us, We shall swell the suffrage chorus And sing of woman free! There's a promise in the showing Of each bud and blade of grass, There's fulfillment in the blowing Of the flow'rets where we pass; 'Tis an earnest of success to those who lift the struggling mass And herald woman free! Not a single sign has failed us Since the dayspring of the year; Eastern womanhood has hailed us, Western sisters bring us cheer: Ours to harvest; bud and blossom, then the full corn in the ear, For woman shall be free! BRING IT TO PASS IN THE YEAR. (Tune: "Bring Back My Bonnie to Me.") For suffrage from ocean to ocean, For suffrage from mountain to shore, Fair women are all in commotion, And men leaguers with them galore. Chorus - One pull, a strong pull, Bringing the ballot so near, so near, Another pull, together pull, And bring it to pass in the year! 6 Last night as we listened and waited, A message came over the sea, It wished us good luck and it stated Our sisters in China are free. The "voice of the people" has spoken 'Tis borne by the wind o'er the sea, To loyal hearts wafting the token, The presage of near victory. SONG OF THE HARRASSED MAN VOTER. (Tune: "The Wearing of the Green.") Oh, townsmen, have you heard the cry that's lately noised about? The suffragists and antis turn the city inside out -- With meetings here and meetings there, 'twould turn a sane man's head; Before it's o'er we men will pass our votes to them instead! I met an ardent churchman and he wildly grasped my hand, Said he, "What will become of all the good wrought in this land" The women in our parishes refuse to work or pay Unless they have a voice and vote on church election day." I turned and hustled onward, when I heard another shout; "The suffragists are headed down the street this way, look out! With bands and propaganda they will fairly rope you in; To treat frail man when out for air thus, I say, is a sin!" "What rights have I that you would like?" I to their leader said. "We covet none of yours, sir, help us gain our own instead! We're the most persistent creatures; what use to tell us nay? We'll gain our vote or know the reason on election day." The air was quiet for a while, then came an awful wail: "The antis now are 'on the job'; their work would turn you pale!" Back to the home all womankind, they've ordered with a rush; O'er offices and industry there falls a frightful hush. "What trick is this?" the men demand, then rave and fiercely swear; "With smashing glass for deviltry it will not e'en compare! To suffragists we now appeal: bring back our labor, pray, And you shall have the ballot by the next election day!" 7 WELCOME TO THEE! (Tune: "Wedding March" from Lohengrin.) Welcome to thee, new-born and free! Pride of the dawn of a nation's great day; Woman for man; God's noblest plan, Equal with him under Truth's perfect sway! Welcome as herald of justice and peace, Guide to an era when war cries may cease; Out of the night, Into the light, Winning the world back to freedom and right! Welcome, we say, thrice welcome day! Bringing as bride this new woman to man; Helpmate indeed, born for his need, Born to march with him in liberty's van. Welcome, thrice welcome, heaven blessed pair, Leaders of progress in which all may share! Out of the night, Into the light, Winning the world back to freedom and right! WOMANHOOD, TRUE WOMANHOOD. (Tune: "Maryland, My Maryland.") Thou shalt not lose in nobler charm, Womanhood, fair womanhood. The cause of right need not alarm, Womanhood, fair womanhood. For tender heart and strong right arm Together will the world disarm; To beauty strength can bring no harm, Womanhood, fair womanhood. Nor shalt thou lose in high renown, Womanhood, brave womanhood; Thy head shall wear the brighter crown, Womanhood, brave womanhood. Press on though weakling creatures frown, Though tumult strive thy call to drown; No weight of wrong can bear thee down, Womanhood, brave womanhood. 8 Thy cause with human weal is fraught, Womanhood, true womanhood; For child and home thy granddames wrought, Womanhood, true womanhood. Let not their labors go for naught, The vantage won be vainly brought, Enlarge the rights they bravely sought, Womanhood, true womanhood. WHEN WOMAN COMES TO HER OWN. (Tune: "When Johnny Comes Marching Home.") When woman comes marching to her own, Hurrah! Hurrah! A royal welcome she'll be shown, Hurrah! Hurrah! The bells will ring, the bands will play, We'll give her Godspeed on her way; For we'll bless the day When woman comes to her own! The very streets will smile and shout, Hurrah! Hurrah! For cleanliness to reign throughout, Hurrah! Hurrah! The winds will set the echoes free, The birds will join and sing for glee; For we'll bless the day When woman comes to her own! With no uncertain step she comes, Hurrah! Hurrah! She'll sweep the city of its slums; Hurrah! Hurrah! She'll show us how to legislate To save and to upbuild the State; So we'll bless the day When woman comes to her own! 9 SET YOUR DAUGHTERS FREE. (Tune: "Wait for the Wagon.") Oh, New York, with your pride of wealth and luxury untold, What, prize you not a woman's worth as greater far than gold? A mighty call now echoes for you from sea to sea, Oh, Leader of the Union, come set your daughters free! Chorus -- We're waiting for New York, Waiting for New York, Waiting for the Empire State to set her daughters free! We do not wish to shame you, but lo! we're at the gate! Some braver sisters entered, but we seem bound to wait; We've always thought your wisdom our guide through life should be. Now must we try to doubt it? No, set your daughters free! Together on life's journey should man and woman ride, So grant them equal suffrage and they'll travel side by side; We look to you, New York, in this our champion to be; Then rend the chains of custom and set your daughters free! HOW CAN SUCH THINGS BE? (Tune: "Oh, Susannah!") I came from California, where the women folk are free, I'm bound for Pennsylvania, old-fashioned folks to see! Election night the day I left and every poll all right; I crossed the line, near lost my breath; election was a fight; Chorus - Oh, men voters, How can such things be? In all this free America Only one-half can be free! I travelled long, I travelled fast, I went by rail and river; Election sights in many a state, they'd make a home man shiver! Some men they say too decent are; they will not come to vote; Says I, "Invite the women out and then a change you'll note!" 10 Then came a revelation when I reached my journey's end, I saw the lowest ranks of men to polling places wend, While wistfully some women gazed a block or two away As to the assessor's door they passed their taxes for to pay! If I could run for President, I'd want a good clean fight; I'd want the women on my side, I'd grant their equal right; I'd pledge my word of honor in the lists to meet them fair, And if they asked me for a deal, I'd make it on the square! PLEA TO LEGISLATORS - MEN IN LAW-HALLS (Tune: "Austria.") Men in law-halls here assembled, Hear us now before you pray. We, who ne'er have shirked, or trembled, Duty's mandates to obey, On your sense of justice leaning, Ask of you in Freedom's name Rights now fraught with potent meaning In those laws which here you frame. See the frail young lives we cherish, Of our flesh and blood a part! Want and wrong decree they perish, Bought and sold upon the mart. Fathers, hear our plea of anguish; Would ye see your daughters die? Let us save e'er more they languish, Give us power to heed their cry! See these hands with labor broken, Where we're speeded up for gain; See these scars, of war the token, Battling want too oft in vain! Have ye tender wives and mothers? Would ye see them blighted stand? Make us heard then with our brothers; Make us equals in the land! 11 IN THE NAME OF THE STATE (Tune: "Bonnie Dundee.") To the lord of creation, 'twas woman who spoke, "We have toiled for the nation; our plea is no joke, We have laid on her shrine all we cherish most dear, Our fortunes, our children, 'tis time you should hear. Chorus-- "Come answer our plea; come grant us a plan For government jointly by woman and man. If you own us your peers ours the ballot should be, So we ask in the name of the State to be free. "All the weight of taxation for years we have known, Without representation; what patience we've shown! We have served in the home, at the loom, in the mart, With no voice in the laws where we know best our part. "Brunt of war's desolation we've painfully borne, Bringing forth for the nation or sons to be torn. Have we nothing to say when men's passions decree That by bloodshed alone we requited can be?" NEXT ELECTION DAY (Tune: "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching.") In our Western home we sit, Thinking, Eastern friends, of you And the noble cause to which you give your might; And our eyes with joy are lit As we read of all you do, For we're proud of you, our sisters dear, tonight! Chorus-- Tramp, tramp, tramp, we're onward marching, Good luck, comrades, on the way! And beneath the golden glow Of the suffrage flag, we know. You will join us on the next election day! 12 We have fought the battle here, We have won the freeman's right, So we promise you a loyal helping hand; Bid our sisters all good cheer, For the goal is now in sight, You are crossing now into the promised land! From the East we greeting sent, Where we work for freedom's day, And we look to you, oh children of our pride. With your own our voices blend, And our hearts are almost gay, For we hope to take our place soon at your side. Chorus -- Tramp, tramp, tramp, we're onward marching, Good luck comrades on the way! And beneath the golden glow Of the suffrage flag, we know. We will join you on the next election day! ON THE WAY TO VOTE. (Tune: "Coming Through the Rye.") Gin a man should meet a woman On the way to vote; Gin they smile with smile most human, News not fit to quote! Chorus -- Every Jill must have her Jack, sir, Why should this cause note? Yet all the world cries out, "Alack! sir," On the way to vote. Gin a pair meet in the gloaming When the voting's o'er. Gin they plight their troth while homing, Who their plight deplore? Throughout the land we take our stand For human sympathy, With vote in hand we understand, A brother's claim we see. 13 THE HOMELAND GUARD. (Tune: "The Watch on the Rhine.") What clarion call rings loud and clear, What tread of hosts now greets the ear? It is the noble patriot band Brought forth to save the fair homeland! Chorus - Oh, freeland dear, no danger fear! Oh, freeland dear, no danger fear! Firmly for human rights we take our stand, To guard our children, hearths and fair homeland! We come full many a thousand strong, We come to save from cruel wrong; We'll guard the sacred gate of home, We'll clear the haunts where vices roam! Our faith by solemn vow we plight Beneath our banner's golden light: While flows one drop of patriot blood, We'll justice seek and common good! THE CALL OF HOME AND COUNTRY. (Tune: "The Marseillaise.") What ho! ye daughters of a nation! Hark now the call - your country's call; For women true and brave of every station Her need is great, her need is for you all, Her need is great, her need is for you all! With man-made laws she struggles on one-handed, While vainly the crushed and feeble cry Where mid life's sordid scenes they die And against them all earth's strength seems banded! Chorus - Arise, the call is yours, Go forth, the world awaits! Press on! Press on! Till all her States Fling wide to you their gates! 14 Your sister, too, 'tis they who call you, And must their prayers be made in vain? No, forward press whatever now befall you. Cast self aside and work woman's gain: Cast self aside and work woman's gain: From labor's hall the weary toilers streaming, Behold, their eyes are set on you! Their fate is fixed by what you do! With hope their faces now are gleaming. And lo! the mightiest call resounding, From childhood lips ring clear and true, Plaintive echoes from the street rebounding; Mother heart, the children look to you! Mother heart, the children look to you! Their needs, can manhood truly comprehend them? When worldly cares his mind enslave? No, 'tis the woman's hand they crave, 'Tis for woman's mother mind to 'fend them! THERE IS A VOTER IN THE TOWN. (Tune: "There is a Tavern in the Town.") There is a voter in the town, in the town, And he doth shrewdly set it down, set it down, That we can never cast a vote like man, While he may vote whene'er he can! Chorus - He is surely a repeater, But will woman let him cheat her? No, remember that the closest friends must part, must part. Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, We may no longer stay with you, stay with you; We'll pin our hats to California's flag And let the Eastern rascals wag! There is a woman in the town, in the town, And she doth shrewdly set it down, set it down, That she can cast a vote like any man, Like any China- Chinaman! 15 Come dig his grave both wide and deep, wide and deep; A ballot-box at head and feet, head and feet, And on his breast place the honest yellow flag, To show we've killed the Eastern wag! Chorus—He was surely a repeater, etc.— AT THE GATEWAY. (Tune: "The Lorelei.") We stand in the gateway of ages, We gaze down the path of the past, We wonder what truth it presages, What hides in the future so vast. The air is rife now with changes, The pulse of a world's throbbing heart, Whose destinies man now arranges, Where woman shall soon bear her part. A shadow like midnight reposeth Across the fair land of our pride, Injustice her pinions uncloseth, Equality's sunlight to hide! A wail from the blackness comes shrieking, Frail forms stretch their arms to the sky; The children of labor are speaking, "Oh, mothers, come save ere we die!" To firesides of peace and contentment The wails of the perishing rise; In woman's brave heart flames resentment, The mother-love in her replies: "We're coming, oh children of sorrow, We'll save you from dens where you pine, We'll strive that a righteous tomorrow May bring to you justice divine!" Richmond Hill Record Print Richmond Hill, L. I. 16 ANYMAN A Modern Morality Play in One Act By Mary Katharine Reely Scene: The grounds of a summer hotel. Characters: Mrs. Mater Mrs. Works }......Suffragists Mrs. Bridge Mrs. Rich Henrietta Hobble }...Anti-Suffragists Tom Dick Harry }....Village Boys George Georgiana Curtain discloses Mrs. Mater and Mrs. Works seated on garden seat, Georgiana standing on soap box in front of them, MS. in hand. Georgiana (reading): Then in your hands, women of today, lies the preservation of the home. (In doubt) You think that ought to stand, do you? It's not too trite? Mrs. Mater: Most decidedly, let it stand, Georgiana. Mrs. Works: With the emphasis you give it, Georgiana, it takes on a new meaning. Mrs. Mater: And the old truths can't be repeated too often. It's the task we have before us, as you young workers must learn—to hammer away at the old truths. Georgiana (descending from box): Well, I do hope it will be all right. It will be my first speech before a big crowd. You think we will have a big crowd, don't you? Mrs. Works: Oh, yes, without a doubt—the guests from the hotel— some of them, at least—and the village people will come to anything. I've met a few really progressive women here. One of them was one of the pioneers in the work-- a dear-- drove twenty miles to hear Miss Anthony in '73. Mrs. Mater: Splendid! We'll have her sit on the platform. (Gathering up papers, etc.) Then everything is settled. And the banners, Georgiana, dear, you will see about them? Georgiana (who has been looking through MS.): You don't think this little bit about garbage inspection is too -- well, you don't think I'd better leave it out, do you? Mrs. Works: Oh, Georgiana, that is one of our most original touches. Read it again, dear, let's get the effect. Georgiana (mounting soap box, looking through MS. for place): Oh, yes (begins to read) "Leave these deep matters of international relations to men of mighty minds," cry our opponents. "Very well," say we, "leave matters of such import to men. But how does that affect the municipal situation? Woman, with her weak intellect, may not comprehend the intricacies of the tariff—the adjudication of boundaries—the control of the Panama canal. But she does know when the garbage can in her back yard should be emptied. And municipal politics, my dear friends, is not so much a matter of tariff reform as it is of garbage disposal!" Mrs. M. and Mrs. W. (applauding): Good! Good! Mrs. Mater: That is good. You are going to do splendidly, dear. Mrs. Works: Goodbye, then, Georgiana. Remember the banners. Exeunt Mrs. W. and Mrs. M. Georgiana (alone, folding her MS.): I am nervous about it. It's my first speech, and—such a lot may depend on it. I wonder if that could have been George Porter? It looked like him. But George Porter here? At a summer resort? If there is one thing I can't stand, it's a summer resort man! (Looking down path L.) Why, it is George Porter—and with that odious Henrietta Hobble! Is that what brought him here? (Starts to run R., turns back). No, I won't, either, I'll face him. (Advances L., meets George and Henrietta.) George (startled, stepping forward): Georgiana! Georgiana (surprised): Oh, Mr. Porter! How d' do? (Passes on.) George (taking a step after her, appealingly): Georgiana! (Georgiana passes off stage. Miss Hobble in the meantime looks coldly on. George, embarrassed, rejoins her.) Henrietta: Now, Mr. Porter, the matter I was speaking of. (They seat themselves.) I know your heart will be with us, Mr. Porter. I think the heart of every true man is with us. You believe, don't you, Mr. Porter, that woman's place is the home? George (decidedly, looking in the direction Georgiana has taken): I do —most certainly I do. Henrietta (clasping her hands): I'm so glad! I knew you would. Enter Mrs. Bridge and Mrs. Rich. Mrs. Bridge: Oh, Henrietta, my dear, we've been looking for you everywhere! They've planned their demonstration for tonight. Oh, Mr. Porter, so delighted! Tell me, my dear, have you brought Mr. Porter over to our cause? Henrietta: Mr. Porter's heart is already with our cause. Mrs. Rich: Ah, we have the men with us. Mrs. Bridge: Yes, I was so impressed with that last winter when we were at the Legislature—lobbying against the amendment, you know, Mr. Porter. All the men I talked with agreed with me that women's sphere is and always must be the home. Mrs. Rich: I don't think I met a single legislator in all the week we were there who didn't agree that woman is out of place in legislative halls. Mrs. Bridge: And you agree, don't you, Mrs. Porter? George: Certainly, certainly. (Has a happy thought.) Woman has an influence that is stronger than the ballot! Mrs. Rich: I knew you would see that. Ah, we have the men with us. Mrs. Bridge: And now, Henrietta, if Mr. Porter will excuse us—we must really complete our plans. Mrs. Rich: You understand the occasion, don't you, Mr. Porter? The suffragists staying at the hotel have planned a demonstration for tonight— a vulgar demonstration—on the street —with a parade, and speeches—so, of course, we must provide a counter attraction. Mrs. Bridge: We only heard of their plans this morning, so it has rushed us dreadfully. That reminds me—the banners. Mr. Porter, I wonder if you could see about the banners for the evening, could you? George: Yes, yes, I'd be delighted to help. (Looking off L.) By the way, who is running the other side of the affair? Who are the leaders? (To himself) It can't be that Georgiana— Mrs. Bridge: Well, there is a Mrs. Mater for one—really a very charming woman before she took up the madness. One of the Deland-Maters, you know Mrs. Rich: They say she has six children. Isn't it shameful the way she must neglect them! Mrs. Bridge: Then there is a Mrs. Works—I believe that is the name. Mrs. Rich: A mere nobody. Mrs. Bridge: Then, of course, there is Miss Georgiana True. Mrs. Rich: A very forward young person. Henrietta: The very worst one of them all. They say she is actually militant! Mrs. Rich: But with you to help us, Mr. Porter, we'll be quite equal to them. We have the men with us. Mrs. Bridge: Good-bye, then, Mr. Porter. Remember about the banners. Exeunt the three anti-suffragists. George (alone): So that's it. Georgiana a suffragette! (Walks about.) I've been blaming myself for our little difference, thinking I had been unfair. Now I wonder if, after all, my instincts haven't been right. Perhaps my resentment went deeper than I thought. It may be that what I found lacking in Georgiana was just that essential womanliness. Still, I can't believe it of Georgiana. I can't believe anything wrong of Georgiana. (Paces about, threshing angrily at objects with his cane; partly disappears in shrubbery at back; is seen walking up and down, moodily.) Enter Georgiana (throws herself on seat): I'm ashamed of myself! Yes, I am. The whole thing is so silly! There was nothing to quarrel about in the first place—and I'm ashamed of my part in it, and I shall tell him so ——and I'm ashamed of the way I treated him just now - and I shall tell him that. I'll meet him half way. I'll go more than half way. I ought to be generous and make allowances for George. It's not that he's stupid or narrow minded. He is just like any man - hide-bound by conventions and lacking in a sense of humor. George: (who has seen Georgiana - striding angrily towards her; abrupt- ly): Georgiana, what's this I hear about you? Georgiana (rising, surprised): About me, George? George: Yes, about you. What are you doing here - mixed up in this dis- graceful business - with women of this type! Georgiana: I don't know what you mean, Mr. Porter.. George: Women who neglect their families. Georgiana: But, George, I am here with my friends Mrs. Works and Mrs. Mater. George: Yes, that's the woman - a mother of six children. Think of it, Georgiana - six innocent children ne- glected! Georgiana: Oh, I think I under- stand. Mrs. Mater is out working for suffrage when she should be at home rocking the cradle. Is that it? George: Exactly. The hand that rocks the cradle, Georgiana, is the hand that rules the world, however much you suffragettes may deny it! Georgiana (meditatively, half to her- self): I don't know how Jock would take to it. Still, possibly Janet, the only unmarried daughter, might take a turn and accommodate her mother if the rocking interfered with football practice. Jock is the youngest - he's a half-back - but then the cradle could be made to order, I suppose. George (with an impatient gesture): You can't draw general conclusions from a particular instance. But then a woman never can generalize. Georgiana (meekly): Oh, were you generalizing? George: There's no use arguing with a woman (starts angrily away - turns, scornfully.) So you really think you want to vote? Georgiana: I think I ought to. George (more scornfully): And you still think, I suppose, that men should give up their seats on the street cars to women? Georgiana: Why, I think it's very courteous of them. Georgiana: Then if I had a seat and you got on the car you would ex- pect me to get up and give you my seat? Georgiana (somewhat embarrassed): Why, I'd think it awfully kind of you, George. George (with an air of having clinched the argument): And you would still expect to have the same voting privileges that I have! Georgiana (earnestly): But, George, suppose I had a seat on a car and you got on, and you were a man with one leg and two crutches. Then I would get up and give you my seat - and which of us ought to vote then? George: What has that to do with the matter? Georgiana: George, I haven't the vaguest idea what any of this has to do with the matter. Have you? George (turning away in disgust): Why expect a woman to be logical? Georgiana (sarcastically): Why, in- deed! Enter Miss Hobble. Henrietta: Oh, Mr. Porter - I beg your pardon - I interrupt. Georgiana (sweetly): Not at all. Good morning. Exit Georgiana. Henrietta (contritely): But I'm afraid I did interrupt. George: Not at all, not at all. Henrietta (in her usual sprightly manner): Well, then, Mr. Porter, we have thought of the most delightful plan! We want you to speak for us tonight. George: Why, really, Miss Hobble- Henrietta: Now, Mr. Porter, don't refuse. It gives such prestige to a program to have a man speak. George (deliberately): Well, on this very short notice- Henrietta: But you must have so many ideas - a man always has. George: It is a subject on which I have thought deeply. Henrietta: Now we'll sit right down here. I'll outline the program for you. Then we'll go over your speech. Shall we, together? (Seat themselves. Henrietta consults notes.) Henrietta: This is the list of speeches. I come first, on the gen- eral topic, "The Home." I prove con- clusively that woman's place is in the home, not in the busy marts of trade nor in the turmoil of political strife. (Pause.) Then Mrs. Bridge speaks on "Motherhood." Oh, she speaks touchingly! Then Mrs. Rich gives her passionate appeal against the appear- ance of women in public. It's the speech she made before the State Legislature last winter - very effec- tive. And now, Mr. Porter, we'll out- line your points, shall we? I've been thinking that you might just take the subject, "The Sphere of Woman" - from a man's point of view, you know. Now, if you will just give me your points, I'll jot them down. George: Ahem! Well - er - sup- pose we start with the fundamental truth that women are the mothers of the race. Henrietta (writing): How true! George (warming up - with oratori- cal effect): Why, then, should wom- an seek to defy nature? When we consider the order of nature, what do we find - no, no, I guess that won't do. Henrietta: Well, now, I'm not so sure. What do we find in nature - consider the horse and the cow, how different are their uses! Why shouldn't it be true in human society? Don't you think you could make some- thing out of that? George: Well - Ahem! Well, now. Yes, I might make something out of the division of labor - man to shoulder the musket, you know - woman to linger at home - her children clustered about her. Henrietta (writing): Oh, beautiful picture! George: Yes, I shall take up next the qualities essential to womanliness. That will be my topic - "Essential Womanliness." (Henrietta, nodding approvingly, makes rapid notes.) George (with a gesture): And in what do the essentials of true womanliness consist but in sweetness, gentleness, meekness of spirit, and above all, in that divine, yes, we may say God-given instinct that finds expression in the handling and training of children? Henrietta: Oh, beautiful! (Enter a football, followed by Tom, Dick and Harry. Tom and Dick play catch with the ball, Harry tries to take it from them. They scurry round and round the stage, throwing ball over heads of George and Henrietta, Henrietta meanwhile screaming: Stop, you horrid boys, stop, go away! George, shouting: Stop it, you rascals! Here, I'll thrash you! Makes futile lunges after them) Tom (to George): Ha, ha! Never touched me! Enter Georgiana. Boys catch sight of her, hats come off. Boys: Oh, hello, Miss Georgiana! Georgiana: Hello, there, boys. I've been looking everywhere for you. Boys (crowd round her): Say you're going to let us help you. Oh, say, can we? Oh, Miss Georgiana! Georgiana: Yes, sirs. I have some flags to hang; some bunting to drape; some seats to fix. Do you know of any-- Boys: Do we know of anybody! Oh Miss Georgiana, I guess yes! Tom: But say, Miss Georgiana, how about that fishing trip? Georgiana (looking at watch): I should say that if we work hard, just awfully hard, we might be ready for that trip by half-past four. Dick: Good. They'll be biting then. George (who has edged nearer): You folks planning a little fishing trip? Georgiana (coldly): We had planned a little fishing trip. (Exit with boys laughing and talking together.) (Re-enter Tom): Never touched me! Exit. George (angry, rejoining Henrietta): Well, where were we? Henrietta (reading): "Her divine, yes, we may say God-given instinct in the handling and training of children." George: Hm, well, yes (looking after Georgiana), at the handling of children. Well, well, I was going to thrash 'em, wasn't I? (Rising abruptly) I find I'll have to give this more thought, Miss Hobble. If I can make anything out of it, I'll be glad to speak for you. Exit. Henrietta (shaking her skirt): Horrid little wretches! They should have been spanked. If there's anything I can't abide it's boys. Exit. Enter Mrs. Bridge and Mrs. Rich, followed by maid carrying flags. Mrs. Bridge: Take them across the street and place them as directed. (Exit maid across stage.) Really, my dear, this is getting to be something of a bore, isn't it? (Crossing stage slowly.) Mrs. Rich: By the way, who is this Mr. Porter? Mrs. Bridge: Oh, don't you know? It's the Mr. Porter - an excellent match for Henrietta. (Exeunt in close conversation.) Enter Mrs. Mater and Mrs. Works, sleeves rolled up, arms full of bunting. Enter boys with flags. Tom: Miss Georgiana sent us on ahead with these. Mrs. Works: All right, my lads. Right down to the booth with them. You know where. Boys (Exeunt with a whoop): You bet we do! Mrs. Mater: Charlotte, what's wrong with Georgiana? Mrs. Works: Margaret, haven't you seen? He's been traipsing round openly with that Hobble person. Mrs. Mater: Then, Charlotte, we've got to stop it. Mrs. Works: I think we'd better not interfere, Margaret. Mrs. Mater: Charlotte, do you think I am going to have our Georgiana out-done by that empty-headed-- Mrs. Works: I think we can trust Georgiana. Mrs. Mater: Well, if she can't manage the campaign, we two older politicians will have to step in. Exeunt, laughing. (Enter George and Georgiana from R. and L., each carrying a banner on a standard with the words, "SAVE THE HOME." Each stares speechless at the other's banner.) Georgiana: George, what are you doing with that? George: Georgiana, what are you doing with that? Georgiana: I carry it in our parade. George: I thought you were a suffragette! Georgiana (proudly): I am. George: A suffragette with that! (Points to device on banner.) Georgiana: George, what is a suffragette? George: A suffragette? Why, a ranting, rampaging, Carrie Nation sort of person, who wants to smash things generally and destroy the home. And the home, Georgiana, whatever you may say, is the foundation of the Republic. Georgiana: George, did you ever hear a suffrage speech? George: Certainly not. I don't believe in equal suffrage. Georgiana: Then listen to me. I'm going to make one tonight - seven minutes and a half long. Will you come to hear it? George: Georgiana, you know I'd listen to you for seven hours and a half - but oh, I don't want you to do it, Georgiana! I don't want women like you to mix up in politics. Why, my girl, do you know what a dirty mess this political game is? Georgiana: George, I'll tell you a secret-- that's what fascinates us--the dirt. We just revel in it! If politics were all nice and clean and smooth and shiny, I don't believe we'd care so much. But we just can't resist the dirt! I suppose you don't want us to soil our lily-white hands (dramatically). And what have they been doing from the beginning of time but cleaning up dirt? (Changing tone) George, will you come to hear me speak? I believe I can tell you some things you haven't thought very much about before--- George (seriously and earnestly, a light of comprehension dawning in his face): Georgiana, I guess I'm a fool! Georgiana: George, that's the beginning of wisdom. There's hope for you. George: Hope for me! Oh say, Georgiana, is there? Georgiana (backing off): No, no, not that. Hear me speak first. Then, if you have anything to say to such a rampaging, revolutionizing creature, I'll listen. George: No, Georgiana. This question's got to be settled now. Georgiana: What question? George (indicating banner): This. This home question. Why, Georgiana, here's a home, yours and mine--the one we were going to have--almost gone to smash. We've got to save it. (Voices outside.) Come, let's clear out of this. (Take hold of hands and hurry to back of stage, where they stand, partly concealed by banners.) Enter Mrs. Works and Mrs. Mater, L.: Where's Georgiana? Oh, I guess we are not needed. Enter Mrs. Bridge, Mrs. Rich, Henrietta, R.: Where's Mr. Porter? Mrs. Bridge, Mrs. Rich: Oh! (The two at the back are partly hidden. One cannot be sure, but it is possible that just at this moment George kisses Georgiana behind the banners.) Henrietta (clasping hands tragically): Oh, these suffragettes get everything! Copyright by the Woman's Journal. Published May, 1913, by the Massachusetts Woman Suffrage Association and The Woman's Journal, 585 Boylston street, Boston, Mass. For news of the suffrage movement all over the world, read the only national suffrage newspaper, The Woman's Journal, 585 Boylston street, Boston, Mass. $1.00 per year. [*COMPLIMENTARY*] The Girl from Colorado OR The Conversion of Aunty Suffridge A PLAYLET WITH A PURPOSE IN THREE ACTS. By Selina Solomons. PUBLISHED BY VOTES-FOR-WOMEN PUBLISHING COMPANY PRICE 10 CENTS 127 Montgomery Street, San Francisco CAST OF CHARACTERS Constance Wright . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .The Girl From Colorado Aunty (Mrs. Lavina) Suffridge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .President S. C. W. C. Rev. Jay Hawse-Chestnutt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Sturdy Oak Prof. Ernest Armstrong . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Of the University of Stanley Ivy Millstone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .A "Peach" of Maidenhood Willie Sapling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .A College Youth Mrs. Twaddler Jones, Mrs. Dudsleigh Wrinkle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Voters and Members of the S. C. W. C. Mr. Twaddler Jones, Mr. Dudsleigh Wrinkle . . . . . . Their Husbands (Voters) Scene laid in the Town of Stanley, California, 1911. Time required for performance, one hour. This place is especially for the California Campaign of 1911, but may be performed in any State, by making slight changes in the wording. Many of the minor properties, music, etc., may be omitted in the representation, if inconvenient to provide same. Mr. and Mrs. Jones and Mr. and Mrs. Wrinkle may likewise be omitted as speaking characters. ACT FIRST. SCENE- Living room of Aunty Suffridge's bungalow. Entrance from street, upper right. Hat rack. Door opening into a bedroom upper right, another upper left. Door to kitchenette lower left. Tea-table with Samovar, and sideboard with tea-service, etc., left side of stage. Writing desk with telephone and couch right side. Five chairs. Bookcase between the two bedrooms, middle upper portion of stage. As curtain rises, Aunty Suffridge comes out of bedroom u. l., clad in house-gown, open in the back, and admits Constance Wright at street door. Con. is in traveling dress, and carries a small-sized grip. Aunty S. - (Flurried manner.) O here you are, my dear Constance. (Embraces her.) So sorry you had to come alone from the station. But it was simply impossible for me to meet you - was detained at an important meeting of the Club - you know I am President, and have to be there. (Turns her back abruptly.) Please button me up, dear. But I knew you'd find us, all right, as I am so well known in Stanley. Con. -(Setting down her grip and complying with request.) O yes, certainly, Aunty. But where is Ivy? Aunty. - She had to take her French lesson over at College. But she'll be back directly and will doubtless bring Professor Armstrong back with her. Con. - O, is Ivy going through College, then? Isn't that nice? Aunty. - O no. I don't quite approve of co-education. It is apt to make girls unwomanly and bold. But she is taking French, and goes to the library now and then. (Goes up and opens door of other bedroom.) This is your room, if you want to change your gown and refresh yourself before tea. Con. - (Depositing wraps and grip in bedroom.) Thank you, Aunty. But I haven't anything to change with yet. My trunk will be here bye and bye, I suppose. And I am not at all tired. (Coming down.) You know, Aunty, I am so delighted to be back in California in time for the election. To think that you and Ivy and all the other women are really going to vote! Isn't it glorious? (Seizes hold of Aunty around the waist, and tries to waltz around the room with her.) Aunty. - (Standing stiffly and refusing to dance.) No, I do not intend to vote, nor Ivy, either. I was opposed to the Amendment. Con. - (Stopping, disappointed.) O, Aunty, you don't mean it! Aunty. - (Proudly.) Yes, I was present at the Legislative hearing at Sacramento, and read an original poem entitled "The Wail of a Remonstrant." Would you like to hear it? (Begins without waiting for an assent.) (Constance seats herself on the couch to listen.) O honored and wise legislators Who destinies guide of our State, We trust that you will not prove traitors But spare us a horrible fate; The suffragists' clamor unheeding Whom vulgar ambition controls O turn a deaf ear to their pleading Who'd drag us to vote at the polls! No more rights than we have, we desire We true women - mothers and wives; For to politics we don't aspire, And would cut it right out of our lives. In your hands is the country's salvation And in ours is the saving of souls; So spare us the sad degradation Of voting with you at the polls! Then hark to our humble petition O earnestly do we implore And leave us our womanly mission You to serve and obey, and adore. The amendment, then, pass it sirs, never! And where Honor its heroes enrolls Your names we'll inscribe them forever If you'll save us, O save, from the polls! (Seats herself on one of the chairs, and picks up a fan from the table, fanning herself after the effort.) Several Senators congratulated me when I had finished. They said it would be a great help. Con. - (Dryly, amused.) I have no doubt it was Aunty - to the suffragists! But now that the amendment has carried, and votes for women is an accomplished fact in California, you will surely vote, and Ivy, too! Aunty. - (Positively.) No, I shall not. I could never go through the ordeal. And as for Ivy, I do not wish the delicate bloom of her young womanhood rubbed off by contact with rough men and women at the polls. Ivy is so womanly and innocent. She has been brought up under my own eyes. Then the minister of our church, the Rev. Jay Hawse Chestnutt, does not approve of woman's voting. Con. - (Taking note of the fact.) Ah, indeed! Aunty. - No. He has preached beautifully on the subject several times. I expect him any minute, as he usually drops in to take tea with us. Is my hair all right? (Rises, putting up hands and patting hair.) Con. - O yes, Aunty. It looks very nice. (Smiling and taking note again.) Aunty. - I am surprised, Constance, at a good looking girl like you taking up with this fad of voting. It will make you so unattractive to men. And I advise you not to express your extreme views in the presence of Professor Armstrong. Con. - Why not, Aunty? Armstrong! That's a queer name for a French professor. He's elderly and wears glasses, I dare say. Aunty. - Not at all. He's the new assistant professor in the Social Science Department, young and very good looking, and he is from Boston, highly cultured and conservative, of course. But I dare say it will not matter what you think, as he is quite devoted to Ivy. (Knock at street door.) Oh, there is Mr. Chestnutt now. (Bustles up to door and opens it.) (Admits Rev. Hawse Chestnutt.) Rev. Chest.--(Very effusively, grasping her hand and shaking it warmly.) How are you this afternoon, my dear Mrs. Suffridge? (Hangs his hat on rack near door.) Aunty.--This is my niece from Colorado. (Constance rises from couch, and bows.) Miss Constance Wright. I was just telling her that your ideas of woman's sphere quite conformed to my own. We shall have to get tea ourselves, as my maid left when she heard that company was coming. Con.--(Coming down towards kitchenette and opening door.) O that doesn't matter, Aunty, I should think you'd hardly need a maid at all, in such a cozy bungalow as this. What a cunning little kitchen! I should love to cook in it. (Aunty takes samovar from table, and goes into kitchenette.) (Con. comes up and addresses Rev. C. who has seated himself.) I can scarcely believe that a man of your position would use it to injure the great cause of woman's equality. Chest.--On the contrary, my dear young lady, I revere and worship Woman; Woman as the inspirer and helpmate; the tender vine that clings and twines her lovely tendrils about the sturdy oak --Man. (Aunty returns with samovar, filled with water, and beams on him approvingly.) Con.-- Just like a parasite, dragging him down. Rev. C.-- Through life's vicissitudes she is ever at his side, a ministering angel, cheering and consoling him, wiping the beady drops of perspiration from his brow, smiling, smiling --- (Aunty stands with the samovar in her hand beaming on him.) Con.-- (Prosaically.) Even when she has the toothache, I suppose. (Aunty goes to get a match and lights the alcohol lamp under the samovar.) Rev. C. -- (Rising from his chair and striking an attitude, as though in the pulpit.) She is like the lovely modest violet nestled in the woodland grasses, the graceful, drooping lily of the valley; too pure, too precious to sully her dewy rose-petalled innocence in the mire of politics. Her sphere is the Home, the Little Child-- Con. -- (Innocently.) But Aunty hasn't any little child, Mr. Chestnutt, or Ivy either; and I haven't heard of their adopting any! Rev. C. -- (Continuing.) Leaving to man the rough labor of the world and of government; the strenuous pursuits of industry, commerce and the professions. (Aunty stands off left and regards him approvingly.) Con. -- Especially the high-salaried positions, of course. It doesn't matter about her bending over the wash-tub all day. Rev. C. -- (Ignoring the interruption.) It is his manly function to tunnel the mountain, to span a continent, to cultivate the harvest, to build bridges-- Con. -- (Leaning forward confidentially.) Tell me, Mr. Chestnutt, did you ever build any bridges, or tunnel a mountain? Rev. C. -- Far above the rude clamor of the market-place, serene as a goddess she stands upon the pedestal where the worshipful love of a man has placed her. (Aunty nods in assent.) Con.-- (Rising.) Beside the idiot, criminal and lunatic! Rev. C. -- Why, my dear young lady! (Gasping in astonishment.) Aunty. -- Constance, what do you mean? Con. -- (Firmly.) That's the company she has up there on the pedestal in those states where she hasn't had a vote. They are all disfranchised together. Now I will go and get ready for tea. (Goes up toward her bedroom, then turns back.) By the way, Mr. Chestnutt, I need scarcely remind a man of your erudition, that the Greeks used the word "idiot" to signify a private citizen who took no interest in public affairs. They believed that participation in government was necessary to the right development of the intellect. (Goes into bedroom u. r.) Aunty. -- (Recovering after a moment.) Mr. Chestnutt, will you be so kind as to assist me in setting the table for tea? Rev. C. -- (With alacrity.) I shall be only too delighted, my dear Mrs. Suffridge, if you will give me minute instructions, as I am rather awkward about those little domestic details. Aunty. -- (Taking the tea-pot from the sideboard.) O, you only have to put on the tea things; five cups and saucers, the spoons and sugar bowl, which all are here. I will put some tea in this, as the kettle is nearly boiling. (Goes into kitchenette.) Rev. C. -- (Gazes after her admiringly. Constance comes from bedroom and observes him. He begins to obey Aunty's behest, taking hold of the cups and saucers gingerly and carrying each one separately to the table.) Con. -- (Going over to writing-desk; picks up paper.) O, this is interesting! (Reads.) Sixteenth Century Women's Club, Calendar for week October 17th to 24th. Monday 10:30 A. M., Class in Ceramics; Art Potteries of the Ancients; Monday 2:30 P. M., High Art Section Study of Painting of John the Baptist's Foot, by an old master. Tuesday, 10:30 A. M., Lecture by Prof. Foss L. Stratton, War Implements of the Silurians. Tuesday, P. M., History Section. Exhibit of Shoe-Strings and other Relics of Louis XI. Wednesday, 10:30, Music Study Section. Handel's Oratorio as contrasted with Rag-time. Wednesday P. M. Social--Bridge Whist. (Aunty comes in with tea-pot.) But don't you ever discuss questions of the day, Aunty? And why do you call it the Sixteenth Century woman's Club? Aunty. -- (Setting tea-pot on table.) No; they are likely to cause inharmony. We confine ourselves to the Sixteenth Century and earlier. That is the limit. (Takes cream pitcher into kitchenette.) Con. -- Yes, Aunty, I should think it was. (Continues to read from Calendar.) Thursday A. M., Poetry Section; Allegorical Interpretation of Browning's "Muckle-Mouthed Meg." Thursday P. M., Dramatic Section; Discussion of Question raised by Commentators as to whether Shakespeare's Hamlet was Fat or Lean. (Stops for a moment to take this in.) (Aunty returns with cream pitcher. Rev. C. carries plates separately to the table.) O, I see. You wanted to find out if the weight of authority leaned to the side of his weight or his leanness eh, Aunty? (Continues to read.) Friday A. M., Domestic Science and Sanitation in the 11th Century. Wasn't that the time of the plague? Friday P. M., Social Section. Bridge Whist. O, Aunty! So that was the important meeting you couldn't get away from! (Laughs, and lays calendar back on desk.) Aunty. -- (Stiffly.) As President of the Club, it is proper that I should attend all functions. (Looks over at Rev. C. for support, but he is laboriously depositing plates on table.) Con.--(Gayly.) O yes, Aunty. But if you go to all these meetings, I don't wonder you have so little time to spend in Woman's true sphere--the home! Aunty--(Ignoring these remarks, goes to sideboard or takes from bottom portion a jar filled with cakes.) (Street door opens and Ivy enters, Professor Armstrong following her.) (Ivy is dress in an exaggerated hobble skirt, a low-necked peek-a-boo waist, a Marie Antoinette muslin "baby" hat, and slippers with high Frenchy Heels. Her hair is puffed out behind and at the sides with rats; her complexion powdered and rouged.) Ivy.--(Bouncing up to Constance, as well as her high heels and hobble skirt will allow.) O, Connie, dear, I'm so awfully glad you've come (Embracing her ecstatically, turns to Professor Armstrong.) This is my cousin from Colorado; Miss Constance Wright, Professor Armstrong. He came especially to meet you, this afternoon, you know, Connie. (Glancing sideways up at Prof. A. and then back at Con. with a conscious blush. Prof. A. acknowledged the introduction, and also greets Aunty and Rev. C.) Won't we have a perfectly lovely time together! (Skipping about with her peculiar "hobble" gait, throwing her hat and jacket on the couch, etc., while she talks.) Shopping in the city and going to the matinee, and bridge parties nearly every afternoon. Con.--O, but I haven't any money to go shopping with, Ivy; I spent all I had to come to California. I never indulge in bridge, and don't care for the play unless it is a very good one. So I am afraid I will be a disappointment to you. Ivy.--(Not at all impressed.) O my, how queer you are, Connie! Aren't you interested in anything at all? (Flopping down into a chair opposite Con., and looking at her with pitying amazement.) (Aunty and Rev. C. busy themselves in preparations for tea, put plate of cakes on the table, set chairs around it, etc.) Con.--(Deliberately.) Yes, Ivy. I have been telling Aunty Suffridge that I am very deeply interested in the election, and seeing the women of my native state exercising in the highest privilege of citizenship, as they do in Colorado. (Prof. A. turns from the bookcase, and looks at her with interest.) Ivy.--(Giving a little scream of horror.) O, you mean voting! Why we haven't any time for such things, we have Aunty (pronouncing it Arntie). And it's not womanly, you know! (Giggles, as though saying something smart or witty. Con.--Well, Ivy, in Colorado we don't consider it womanly to wear a hobbled skirt. You see ideas differ. Ivy.--(Jumping up and pirouetting around.) Why, Connie, these are the very latest fashions from Paris. They are all the rage, and just too swell for anything, now! Con.--Maybe. But we are all American women, not Parisians. You hardly seem to me like a Western girl, Ivy. Aunty.--Tea is ready. Will you please sit here, Mr. Chestnutt? (Indicating seat at her left as she stands at the head of the table.) Prof. Armstrong, you will sit next to Ivy, of course (smiling sweetly at him) ; and Constance, you will be on my right. (They seat themselves as requested, Prof. A. at the foot between Ivy and Constance.) (Aunty S. proceeds to pour the tea.) Arm.--(To. Con.) I believe it is claimed that woman's vote has not accomplished very much in Colorado. Con.--(Quietly.) It has not brought about the millenium, if that is what you mean. Aunty.--(Triumphantly.) There now! (Handing Mr. C. his cup of tea.) Cream and sugar, Mr. Chestnutt? (With a creamy and sugary glance.) Prof. A.--But, after all, results are nothing to the point. You have voted, Miss Wright, have you not? Con.--(Taking cup of tea from her aunt.) Thank you, Aunty. Only once-- that was two years ago. I gave up my vote this time to come to California. You see this is my native state, and so when I heard that the vote had been won I just cried for joy! (Prof. A. looks at her with curious interest, as she passes him his cup of tea.) Aunty.--Well, Constance, you are perfectly rabid on the subject (passes tea to Ivy and pours out a cup for herself.) But I could never unsex myself by voting. (Ivy simpers assent.) Con.--Well, Aunty, if Nature made men and women so near alike that just putting a piece of paper in a box is going to make us into men, then I think she might have saved time and energy by making only one sex! (Rev. C. sets down his cup of tea very hard.) Aunty.--(Reprovingly.) Constance! What a shocking speech! What will the Rev. Mr. Chestnutt think if you? Have another cup of tea, Mr. C. (Takes his cup and refills it.) Prof. Arm.--Do you consider your niece unsexed by her experience in voting, Mrs. Suffridge? Aunty.--Well, Constance has voted only once, as she says; and it may not have had very much effect, as yet. Still I should like to see her as unsophisticated and girlish as Ivy. Do have some more of the cakes, Mr. Chestnutt. Rev. C.--But my dear Mrs. Suffridge, Miss Ivy's so different. She takes more after you. (Drinking his tea, and helping himself liberally to the cakes.) Ivy.--(Pleased and looking at Armstrong affectedly.) O, so I do; don't you think so, Professor? Arm.--(Soberly.) I certainly do, Miss Millstone. Rev. C.--"The ever-womanly," as the great German poet so beautifully puts it, "leads us upward and on." Do you not agree with me, Professor Armstrong? (Looking at Aunty admiringly.) Arm.--(Drily.) That is undeniable, sir. You and Goethe are both correct. (Aunty and Chest. both look delighted.) But exactly what constitutes "the ever-womanly" is a somewhat disputed point. Aunty--But surely you don't consider it womanly to vote, Professor? Prof--Woman's most distinctive attribute being the care, nurture and provision for the well-being of the child (Aunty, Ivy and Chest. all nod approvingly), or consequently, of race; then for her to have a hand in regard to pure food, sanitation, morals and education--choosing those who are to make and administer the laws which will ensure the well-being of her own progeny and of posterity might justly be considered an act so pre-eminently womanly (Aunty and Ivy look crest-fallen) that it might even be called the most womanly that she could possibly perform. (Sensation. Rev. Chest. Chokes in his tea-cup.) Aunty.---(After her recovery.) But what is to become of the home, Professor, when women have deserted it and engage in the mad scramble for office. Arm.---(Calmly.) Even if such a state of affairs were to come to pass, Mrs. Suffridge---even if the order of things described by Mill in his Subjection of Women were to be exactly revised, and man to become the subject sex--we should have to accept it as being in the natural course of social evolution, and bound to work out for the welfare of the race. (Smiles at Constance.) Aunty---(Hastily taking Rev. C.'s cup.) Let me give you another cup of tea, Mr. Chestnutt. (Finding none in the pot.) O, I am so sorry, there is no more here. Rev. C.---O, it doesn't matter, my dear Mrs. Suffridge. I must really be going. The hour is getting late. (Rises from his seat, and the others all do the same.) Con.---(Holding out her hand.) I thank you, Professor Armstrong, for what you have said. I wonder (hesitating and smiling) if it would not be possible to incorporate it into one of your lecture at College, and thus help to bring out a good large vote of the women of Stanley? Arm.---(Cordially, taking her hand and holding it, and looking nito her face.) It can be done, Miss Wright, and it will be done, if you will promise to attend the lecture. But we will speak of this further as I too, must take my departure. (CURTAIN) ACT SECOND. Same scene---morning. Aunty busy at desk, writing, a large volume beside her. Sheets of paper scattered about. Does not look up as the door opens, and Constance comes in at the street-door, carrying a small basket of provisions. Aunty.---O, Constance, is that you? I want you to help me with this paper on the Position and Influence of Woman in the Sixteenth Century. (Importantly) I must have it ready to read before the Social Science section of the Club day after tomorrow. Con.---I've been doing the marketing for lunch, Aunty, I couldn't depend on the man to send the things in time, so I brought the lamb chops and strawberries, and some lettuce for salad. (Takes things into the kitchenette, then goes up to bedroom to lay off hat.) Aunty.---(Still intent on the pages of the Encyclopedia.) O yes, (indifferently) it's too bad we haven't a maid. They promised to send me one from the office. This Encyclopedia doesn't say anything at all about Woman's Position, but perhaps Ivy will bring back a book from the University library. She has gone to ask Professor which are the best on the subject. Con.---(Coming down from bedroom with a white shirt-waist and fancy apron on.) Well, Aunty, I don't believe there's much to tell about the Position and Influence of Woman in the 16th Century. (Looks down at the open page of the Encyclopedia and reads here and there turning the pages now and then.) Here it says : "The commonest comforts of life such as we understand them, were lacking in this age. There was lavish luxury and display among the nobles and ruling class, but the condition of the common people was deplorable in the extreme. . . . The lord of the manor spent his days in riotous dissipation, when not engaged in fighting in the constant wars, and was half the time in a state of beastly intoxication. . . . The laborer in his squalid and filthy hut, that afforded no protection from the weather, was a prey to disease."-----There, Aunty! now what do you suppose the condition of the women was? You see, the book doesn't say anything about the Position and Influence of Woman because ---there isn't anything to say! She didn't have any. (Goes down towards kitchenette.) Aunty.---(Turning over the pages again industriously.) I cannot believe it. But Ivy will be back soon with the right books, I hope. Con.---(Coming up, puts her arms around Aunty.) Now, why won't you make up your mind to stop being a 16th Century Woman, Aunty, dear--- and take more interest in the position and influence of woman in the twentieth century? Well, I must go and start lunch. (Goes down to kitchenette, then looks back---teasingly.) Say, Aunty, why don't you go and consult the Rev. Hawse Chestnutt on the subject, since you consider him such an authority on Woman generally? Aunty.---That's not a bad idea, Constance. (Rises.) I should be apt to find him in his study at this house, I dare say. I'll go and get ready at once. (Goes up left and into a bedroom to dress.) Knocks at street-door. (Constance goes to open it. Admits Rev. Chestnutt) Con.---Why, what a coincidence! Aunty was just going to call on you, Mr. Chestnutt. She wanted to consult you on a very important matter; her paper that she is going to read before the Club. Chest.---(Flattered.) Ah, Indeed! And I have come to--eh--call. Con.---For the purpose of consulting her on a very important matter. Am I not right? Chest.---You are--Miss Wright. Con.---And I can just about guess what that important matter is, too. It concerns Aunty and--yourself. (He looks rather startled, but cannot deny it.) I believe that you admire my Aunty. Mr. Chestnutt. Chest.---(Heartily.) O yes, yes indeed. Mrs. Suffridge is a very fine woman-- Con.---But not quite your ideal, Mr. Chestnutt. Is it not so? For I am sure that you, in common with all the great thinkers and leading divines of the country, believe that woman should use her influence for the good of the community. Chest.---(Flattered.) You are right, my dear Miss Wright. She should use her influence and precisely--in a womanly way. Con.--By direct participation in government, as Professor Armstrong was saying the other day. Now I feel confident, Mr. Chestnutt, that a public-spirited man like yourself must be deeply concerned in the election of honest and efficient men to office. Perhaps there is some candidate that you are especially interested in? Chest.--(Delighted.) You have divined exactly, Miss Wright; with marvelous intuition. There is an old friend of mine, Grafton Ward, who is up for County Clerk, and approached me the other day on the matter. Con.--Exactly. Just as I thought. Now, Mr. Chestnutt, you must use your position and influence with my Aunty to get her to vote for Ward, and use her position and influence with the other women of the 16th Century Club to do the same. I am quite sure that Aunty would be willing to do it. There is still time, according to the new law, for Aunty and Ivy to register to vote. By the way, you know, Mr. Chestnutt, Auntie's first name is Lavina! (Auntie comes out of her room, clad in a tailor suit and large hat; starts back when she sees Chestnutt.) Con.--(With an air of delightful mystery.) Mr. Chestnutt anticipated your call, Aunty. He has come on a delicate and important mission, which he himself will tell you about. Aunty.--(With undisguised pleasure.) O, indeed! Con.--Now I must go and see about lunch. (Goes into kitchenette.) Aunty.--(Coming down and drawing up a chair opposite Chest.) I am quite curious to know what this delicate and important mission can be! (Flustered, putting up her hands to her head.) But I am forgetting to remove my hat-- Chest.--(Putting up his hand to prevent her.) Do not, I beg of you, my dear Mrs. Suffridge. It is--eh, so extremely becoming! (Aunty acknowledges the compliment implied.) You are looking extraordinarily well this morning. I feel--ahem!--that it is a propitious moment for my proposal-- (Auntie places her hand on her heart, with a little gasp.) I should say my proposition. (Auntie draws back slightly, with a disappointed look.) Aunty.--(Stiffly.) What is your proposition then, Mr. Chestnutt, may I ask? Chest.--It is that you use your high social position and influence in Stanley to insure the election of my old friend, Grafton Ward, a most able and honest man, to the office of County Clerk. Aunty.--Oh! you want me to use my indirect influence in favor of this candidate of yours. Chest.--Ahem! Your indirect influence, my dear lady, and--ahem!--your direct influence as well, if I may put it that way. Aunty.--(Astonished.) You mean that you want me to vote, Mr. Chestnutt? (Enter Con. from kitchenette to see how things are going.) Con.--(Opening door of kitchenette.) O, Aunty; I forgot to ask you whether you like French chops or the other kind? Aunty.--O, it doesn't matter, Constance. (Rises and turns her back, annoyed.) Con.--(Coming out and addressing Chest.) And you, sir; I hope you will remain and lunch with us. (Getting a chance for a word edgeways.) Lay it on thick about her being your ideal. (Retires to kitchenette.) Auntie.--(Coming down again.) So this is the delicate matter you had so much at heart! Chest.--Ah yes, my dear lady. For I feel, in common with other leading thinkers and divines, that woman's participation in politics is demanded, for the best good of the nation. Aunty.--(With some sarcasm.) Ah! But these are not the sentiments I have heard you express in the pulpit, Mr. Chestnutt, as to lovely woman and her exalted mission, inspiring man to do his civic duty and never descending from her lofty pedestal into the pool of politics-- Chest.--But my dear Mrs. Suffridge, the rank and file of the women of my congregation are weak-minded creatures who like to hear that sort of slushy talk. (Auntie gives a start.) My first wife, the late Mrs. Chestnutt, was one of that kind, a mere echo of myself, and I will say to you in confidence, my dear Mrs. Suffridge, that it required at times all of my ethical culture and manly self-control to refrain from--a proceeding which would have been--ahem!--highly unjustifiable in a man of my vocation-- to-wit, wiping up the floor with her! Aunty.--(Giving a little shriek.) O--Mr. Chestnutt! Chest.--(Moving his chair closer.) But you, my dear Mrs. Suffridge, are quite different. You are a woman of high ideals, who would not hesitate, I know, to sacrifice her personal feelings to the public good. Such is the true woman--such is my ideal! (Puts out his hand to take hers; Aunty yields it coyly. Constance appears from kitchenette to see how things are progressing.) Con.--Shall I cream the potatoes, Auntie? (Auntie gives a little scream, and draws her hand away from Chest.) O, I beg pardon! (Withdraws into kitchenette once more.) Auntie.--But how can I ever nerve myself to undergo this dreadful ordeal, from which I have always shrunk with horror! Chest.--(Getting possession of her hand again.) And womanly modesty! But I will be at your side--Lavina! Oh, let me call you by that sweetly symbolic name, so suggestive in its relation to true womanhood! (Bending forward.) I will support you with my manly arm, and give you courage to perform the deed! (Waxing more eloquent.) I will even wade into the pool with you and lift you above its mud and mice, so that no trace of it shall soil your dainty skirts, like--Paul and Virginia! (With a happy inspiration.) (Constance opens door again and overhears last words.) Con.--(Coming out.) And then, Aunty dear, you will be Anti-Suffrage no longer! (Both start and look at each other quietly and then at Constance.) Of course, because you are going to vote. And Mr. Chestnutt is going to lead you to the polls first and afterwards--to the altar, of course. And then you will not be Aunty Suffridge any longer, either, but Aunty Chestnutt. (Laughs gaily.) Now, Mr. Chestnutt, isn't that so? Aunty has elected you to the highest position in her gift--by only one vote! Chest.--You are quite right, Miss Constance. Lavina! through all life's vicissitudes and trials I shall be at your side. Con.--As a sturdy oak should do. Chest. -- And you, Lavina, will twine your loving tendrils about me, even as the clinging vine. (Catches hold of Auntie and attempts to illustrate; she bashfully resists, then yields.) Let us exemplify this beautiful parable of the tender, clinging vine and the sturdy- Con. -- Chestnutt Tree! (They proceed to exemplify.) Street-door opens and Ivy and Professor Armstrong enter. They stand spellbound at the sight. Auntie and Chestnutt make haste to "break away." Con. -- Aunty dear, I think you had better change the title of that paper of yours, now you are going to be a 20th Century Woman, you know. (To Ivy and Arm.): Aunty is going to vote at the election. Mr. Chestnutt will lead her to the polls, and afterwards to the altar, and she is not going to be Aunty Suffridge any longer, in any sense of the word. Ivy. -- (Rushing down to her and embracing her.) O Aunty, isn't it too perfectly lovely for any use! Arm. -- (Coming down and shaking hands with both.) Accept my felicitations. Con. -- Now there is just about time for you two to go and call upon some of the members of the Club and get them to promise to vote for Ward. It will be a graceful way for you to announce your engagement to be married. Aunty. -- By the way, Constance, what do you think I had better wear to the polls? Chest. -- Let us go, Lavina. You are right, Miss Constance. (Both go out at street-door.) Ivy. -- (Gazing after them and giggling.) Isn't it too delightful to have an engaged couple in the family! Let's have an extra good lunch, Connie, and you'll have to stay and celebrate with us. (To Arm.) Arm. -- O no, Miss Ivy, I only came to (looking at Con.) have a word with you about the-- Ivy. -- O, I thought you came to help Auntie with her paper! Arm.-- And I am due at my boarding-house for luncheon. Con.-- We are going to have French chops and creamed potatoes; and I could make a bird's nest salad if I had some cottage cheese from the delicatessen store. Ivy, you might telephone for it - and some cream for the strawberries, right away. Ivy. -- (Goes up left to 'phone and takes down receiver.) Hello, I want the delicatessen store-O I don't know the number-- on Main street. (Sees Arm. go up to Con. out of the corner of her eye.) Arm. -- I thought I might get a change to speak to you about a plan I have-- Ivy.-- O dear, I can't manage this at all. Won't you please come here and do it for me, professor? (Lays receiver on 'phone.) Ten cents worth of cottage cheese and a pint of cream. (Goes into bedroom.) Con.-- I must look after the potatoes now, and hull the strawberries. You don't get strawberries in November in Boston, Prof. Armstrong! (Goes to kitchenette.) Arm.-- (At the 'phone.) This is Prof. Armstrong, of the University. I wish to order some things. No, I don't want them sent to the University (irritably), but to Mrs. Suffridge's bungalow; cheese-no I did not say Limburger cheese, cottage cream-cheese; no not cream cheese, cottage cheese and cream: Mrs. Lavina Suffridge's cottage - bungalow. Great Jumping Jupiter! (Dashes down receiver and goes to door of kitchenette.) Miss Constance, you will have to come and give this order. (Stands and wipes the perspiration from his forehead.) Con. -- (Smoothly, telephoning.) Please send at once to Mrs. Suffridge, 126 College Avenue, ten cents worth of cottage cheese and a pint of cream. Thank you so much. Good-bye. Arm. -- (Looking at her admiringly.) I have a plan for the election which I think will meet your approval, Miss Constance-- Ivy.-- (Coming down in white waist and fetching apron.) O, but we have to get lunch now, don't we, Connie? What shall I do first? Con.-- Well, you had better start setting the table now, Ivy. Perhaps, Prof. Armstrong will help you. (With mischievous intent.) Arm.-- (Hastily.) Isn't there something I could do for you-- in there? (Pointing to kitchenette.) And then I might tell you my plan--at the same time? Con. -- (Smiling sweetly.) O no, I will never allow the missus, or college professors, in my kitchen. (Turns and comes down.) Arm. -- (Desperately.) Then let Miss Ivy help you, and I will return to my boarding-house. I am due there for luncheon. Ivy. -- (Hobbles over to rack and takes possession of his hat.) O no, you can't go. You've got to stay here and help me set the table. We'll have the best table cloth and dishes on; won't we, Connie? Because this is such a happy occasion! Con.-- Yes, and you and Prof. Armstrong can cut the bread and the cake-- it's under the sideboard, you know, and put on a pitcher of water and the butter and-- Arm.-- (Appealingly to her.) I thought you would be interested in my plan to bring out a large vote of the women-- Con.-- (Smiling back at him.) O, yes, we'll discuss it after lunch. (Goes into kitchenette.) Ivy.-- Now we'll begin setting the table. (Takes tablecloth and napkins from under sideboard.) Here's the very best tablecloth, and napkins to match. Isn't it perfectly lovely to think of Auntie and Mr. Chestnutt being really engaged! (Looks at him archly as she unfolds the cloth.) How suddenly things do come about sometimes, when you'd never expect it! Arm.-- (Ignoring this remark.) Your cousin said the dishes were in there (glancing down towards kitchenette.) I will fetch them. (Starts to go down, but Ivy intercepts him.) Ivy.-- (Dropping the tablecloth in a heap on the sideboard.) O no, you needn't. I know just which ones to get. (Pushing past him, then looks back.) You may just put on the tablecloth. (Goes into kitchenette.) (Arm. Sends a look after her and mutters something under his breath. (Goes up to bookcase and stands looking at books.) Ivy.-- (Returning with a tray of dishes.) Here they are, professor. O, you haven't-- (Knock at street-door.) (Ivy puts tray down, opens it-- calls into kitchenette.) The delicatessen things have come, Connie! (Con. comes in with more dishes. Puts them down on table. Takes package from Ivy.) Con.--That's good. Now I can make the bird's nest salad right away. (Arm. turns around and comes down.) Ivy.--(Tittering.) Bird's nest salad. How awfully sweet and appropriate! Don't you think so, professor? Arm.--(Blandly.) I did not quite catch your remark, Miss Millstone. (Addressing himself to Constance.) That lecture I am going to give--I wanted you to help me choose the title. Ivy.--(Fluttering around like a hen with her head cut off.) O dear, I do feel so excited and happy this morning! Come on, professor, and help me set the table! Con.--Yes, do get busy, you two. There's quite a lot to be done yet. (Goes into kitchenette with things.) Arm.--(Severely.) Don't you think, Miss Millstone, that you had better assist your cousin in the kitchen? I think I can manage alone in here. Ivy.--(Calmly.) O no; I'm not at all clever at cooking, tee-hee! Arm.--(Jerks dishes off table, and slams them on sideboard.) No--I shouldn't imagine you were as clever at it as you are at other arts not domestic, Miss Millstone. Ivy.--(Giggling as though at a compliment.) You see, we always had a girl, till Connie came. But I will devote more attention to housework some day--when I get married, you know! (With arch significance.) Arm.--(Seizes the tablecloth and strides over to the table with it.) Well, we'd better get this table set, anyway, Miss Millstone. Bring on the dishes now, please. (Lays cloth very unevenly.) Ivy.--(Fluttering up.) O, that isn't straight at all! I guess you don't know much more about housework than I do, professor! (Takes hold of tablecloth to straighten it out, cocking her head to one side, affectedly.) There! Now we can put the dishes on. O! (with a shriek of delight as Con. comes in with salad on tray) there are the birds' nests! Aren't they too cute! Con.--(Setting salads on table.) What were you saying about the title of your lecture, Prof. Armstrong? Arm.--Why, I thought of calling it "Patriots and Idiots." Con.--Splendid. Now that Aunty is going to vote, I suppose you will be willing to vote, too, Ivy? Ivy.--(Coyly.) O yes, if Professor Armstrong wants me to. You will tell me who to vote for, won't you, professor? Con.--But you can never vote in that hobble skirt, Ivy. You'd be apt to tumble headlong into the pool. You must get a sensible skirt, and a real hat and shoes, with flat heels, and look like a truly womanly girl, exercising the highest function of citizenship. Ivy.--(Pleased at the notion of new clothes.) All right, Connie. I'll go to Madame Stitcher's this very afternoon and order the dress. (Constance goes back into kitchenette.) But you'll have to promise to take me to the polls, professor, just like Mr. Chestnutt is going to take Aunty. (Armstrong busies himself in putting napkins on the table.) I am just tall enough to look well beside you! (Sidles up and measures herself against him. Arm. moves away to get dishes.) Of course, Willie Sapling could take me. He's just my age, twenty-one, and is going to cast his first vote, too. But, then, he doesn't believe in women voting, you see, and you do. (Takes knives and forks out of sideboard drawer, and looks up at him again with what is intended to be a captivating expression.) Arm.--Yes; (aside) wish I didn't. (Seizes glass pitcher from sideboard and strides to kitchenette.) May I get some water in this pitcher, Miss Constance? Con.--(Coming to door.) I'll fill it for you. (Takes pitcher.) Ivy.--O, professor! You didn't put those napkins on right at all. (Con. brings pitcher back to door, filled.) Arm.--Thank you. (Takes it.) I am so glad you approve of the title. It was suggested to my mind-- Ivy.--(Rearranging the napkins.) And you forgot the spoons and the sugar bowl, and the butter dish! Arm.--(with an annoyed glance in her direction)--by that Greek definition you mentioned the other day and-- Ivy.--(Bouncing up to the sideboard.) It's time to cut the bread and cake now, professor! (Getting them from underneath.) You do it while I put on the knives and forks, please. (Arm., with an expressive look at Con., sets pitcher on table. Con. goes into kitchenette.) Here's the bread knife, professor (holding it out to him with a smile as he comes up.) Only I hate to hand you anything sharp--they say it cuts friendship, you know. (Tittering.) (Arm. looks at her absent-mindedly, takes knife.) Now you have to say the little rhyme we used to say at school--and then it won't! (Coquettishly.) Don't you know it--about knives cutting love in two? Arm.--(Cutting bread in huge chunks.) I--don't recollect any such rhyme, Miss Millstone. (Ivy looks at him out of the corner of her eye, as she takes knives and forks from sideboard and places them around the table. Arm. piles bread on plate, then attacks cake, slashing away at it fiercely.) Ivy.--O, don't you? (Innocently.) Well, it begins "If you love me"-- (Giggles and look at him expectantly.) (He piles cake on top of bread.) O, professor! You mustn't put the cake and the bread on the same plate! Is that the way they do at your boarding-house? Arm.--Well, fix it to suit yourself, Miss Millstone. (Turns away and goes up to bookcase. Stands facing it, his arms behind his back, whistling. Ivy takes another plate, removes the slices of cake onto it, slowly and with an injured air, as she glances in his direction from time to time. Carries the plate of cake over to the table and puts it down.) Ivy.--O! (Claps her hand on her heart, with a die away expression. Arm. turns around.) I feel so faint! (Staggers over to couch.) I must sit down a moment. (Flops down.) Arm.--(Coming down slowly.) Why, what is the matter, Miss Millstone? Ivy.--(Closes her eyes.) I don't know (in a faint voice); I feel so weak. I must have been over-exerting myself--this morning. Would you mind-- getting me a glass of water? Arm.---Certainly not. (Goes over to sideboard, takes glass to table and pours water from pitcher. Ivy poses herself becomingly on the couch, while his back is turned.) Mr. T. J.--(Handing flower to Mrs. T. J.) There, my dear, now you are a full-fledged American citizen. Mrs. T. J.--(Fondly.) To be sure, Twaddler. (Takes the chrysanthemum.) I suppose flowers are going up (to Arm.) since every woman voter is to be presented with them by some masculine friend or relation. (Mr. and Mrs. Dudsteich Wrinkle come from polls. Mr. D. W. goes into florist's.) Mrs. T. J.--(Showing badge and chrysanthemum.) See my "Good Citizen" badge, Mrs. Wrinkle. This is Professor Armstrong, who gave the lecture, you know. Mrs. D. W.--(Enthusiastically.) O yes, indeed. I haven't had a chance to thank you for that inspiring lecture, Professor. I am sure it has helped us all to be good citizens today. (Mr. D. W. comes out of florist's with another yellow chrysanthemum. Hands it to his wife. (Bows to the professor, lower right, as Constance enters. She likewise carries a lot of badges.) Arm.--(Face lighting up.) O, I was wondering where you were. I haven't had a chance for a word with you today. (Mrs. D. W. goes to vote.) Con.--(Smiling.) No, we've both been too busy. But there seems a lull just now. Well, our plans are working finely, are they not? O dear, it makes me want to vote myself. Arm.--Simply great. These newspaper articles published all over the state have helped a whole lot, of course, Do sit down here and rest a moment. I want to talk to you. Con.--(Seating herself on bench.) I only voted once, you know, but I am just like a tiger that has tasted blood. (Laughing.) Arm.--Miss Constance, I've never had a chance to clear up that wretched misunderstanding the other day. Of course, I could not go to your Aunt's house again after what happened and I could only see you at college--but you know, Miss Constance, you treated me rather shabbily that day. I came to see you, and-- (Mrs. D. W. is seen to pass into election booth.) Con.--And Ivy took possession of you. But Aunty had given me to understand when I first came that you were paying attention to Ivy, and how could I be so unwomanly as to-- Arm.--(Getting up from the bench.) I never paid any attention to that vain little idiot (both laugh)--if she is your cousin. She was always coming to my class room on some pretext or other. Con.--Ivy is no worse than any average girl would be, brought up on Aunty Suffridge principles, without any occupation or purpose in life but to be womanly! (Laughs.) Well, I'm afraid you'll have to escort her to the polls, anyway. She says you promised. Arm.--(Firmly.) I did not. She kept hinting, but I tell you, Miss Wright, that if your cousin, Miss Millstone, insists on hanging herself around my neck that I shall drag her to the wharves and drown us both in the Bay. Con.--Well, you'll both be drowned and hanged then, but if you positively refuse we will have to find another strong arm. I'm sure there must be some college youth available. (Thoughtfully): It seems to me that I have heard her speak of one, but I forget his name. Arm.--(Eagerly snatching at a straw.) Yes, she spoke to me of one, the same one, doubtless, but I can't think of his name either. (Puts both hands to his head.) O, wasn't it Willie something sappy--Sapling, that's it. Well, I'll go and hunt him up. (Jumps up and goes off quickly; knocks against Rev. Chest.) Rev. Chest.--Oh, good day, Prof. Do you know whether Mrs. Suffridge and her niece-- (Mrs. D. W. comes back from the polls and gets badge.) Con.--They haven't come yet, Mr. Chest. Have you voted? Chest.--Oh yes, but, eh--I was to meet Mrs. Suffridge and eh--could you advise me what kind of flowers would be most suitable to present her with-- Con.--(Mischievously.) Well, of course, you can't get violets at this time of the year and it's not the day for orange blossoms yet; I should think a bunch of American Beauty roses would be as nice as anything. Chest.--(Delighted.) Just right exactly. You do possess remarkable intuition, my dear Miss Wright. A big bunch!--I shall certainly order at once. (Goes into florist's.) (Enter Aunty and Ivy, in new costumes, looking very conscious and important. Attending a social function. Mrs. Dudsteich Wrinkle and Constance go up to meet them.) Mrs. T. J.--O, so glad you've come, dear Mrs. Suffridge and Miss Millstone. I've voted. Aunty.--Are we late? Where is Mr. Chestnutt? (Looking around.) Con.--He'll be here right away, Aunty. He is ordering the flowers for you. (Whispering.) American Beauty Roses? (Aunty and Mrs. T. J. converse.) Ivy.--(To Con.) My new suit just came home from Madame Stitcher's. That's why we couldn't come before. Isn't it sweet and stylish? (Pirouetting around to show Con.) Con.--(Drawing her down to the bench.) It's very neat and becoming. Ivy, I want to speak to you about something. You know today is a very important day in your life. You are going to cast your first vote and become a true citizen of your nation, state and country. You are going to be a patriot and not an idiot, from now on. (Chest. comes out of florist's.) Chest.--(Going up to Aunty.) O, how perfectly lovely you look my dear Lavina. Are you prepared to cast your ballot? Ivy.--Yes, I know, and Prof. Armstrong is going to lead me to the polls and give me flowers for voting, like the paper said. Where is he? Aunty.--(Opens her shopping bag and extracts articles.) O, yes, I am well prepared for the ordeal. Jay, dear; here are my smelling salts, my fan and handkerchief, and I hope I shall be able to do my civic duty. Con.--(Looking over at her, to Ivy.) Why, he is very busy, Ivy, as chairman of the Badge Committee. He has gone to one of the other precincts and won't be here in time to escort. (Rises from the bench and leaves Ivy there--goes up to Aunty.) But Aunty you know who you are going to vote for, don't you? And how you are going to do it? They use the machine here, you know. Aunty.--(With dignity.) O, yes, I have often heard of the political machine, Constance. Con.—(Going back to Ivy-- confidently seating herself again.) Now, Ivy, I want you to tell me whether you really care for Prof. Armstrong? I know you were very much excited that day of Aunty's engagement? We could not judge fairly of your feelings. Ivy.—(Tossing her head.) O, I'm not so awfully stuck on him, if that's what you mean. Auntie always talked as if he was such a fine catch, and he's got a mighty nice position at the University and all that. But you can have him, Connie! Some of the college boys, Willie Sapling and others—have been much nicer to me that he has, and Willie is a fine football player, if he did get cinched in his classes. Chest.—(To Aunty.) Now you see, Lavina, these surroundings are not so very contaminating, now, are they? That nice, clean booth of the stores and the flower shop. Aunty.—(Looking around.) Sure enough the drug store might come in handy if I should be overcome, wouldn't it? Con.—(Coming up.) Sure, Aunty, and you can get disinfectant, there, if you need one, you know. Aunty.—(To Chest.) And you will be right here at my side, Jay! Chest.—Yes, lean on me, Lavina. I will support you with my manly arm. (She takes his arm and starts to walk down toward the booth with slow, measured tread. Mrs. T. J. and Con. converse up right.) (Enter Willie Sapling lower right.) W. S.—O, hello, Ivy! (Ivy jumps up from the bench, delighted.) Prof. Armstrong told me you were going to vote, so I came over. I cast my ballot first thing this morning. (Proudly.) Ivy.—Yes, Willie! and will you take me to the polls, and you have to give me flowers afterwards, you know. Aunty.—(Stopping after going a few steps.) I must pause a moment and consider the importance of the step I am about to take. (Closes her eyes and places hand over them.) Con.—O, you are not going to be married just now, Aunty. Ivy.—(Looking over at Aunty and imitating her.) You must let me lean on your arm, Willie, as I am only a girl, you know, and have never voted before. Willie.—Aw, it's dead easy, Ivy; nothin' to be scared of. Come awn! (Takes hold of her by the arm, a little roughly.) Ivy.—(Closing her eyes.) Be careful, Willie. I faint very easily (with languid air) and I wouldn't want to have to be carried in the drug store and be revived in the middle of voting, you know.) Willie.—Aw g'long, Ivy. You aughter be caught in a college rush. This ain't nothin'. Spunk up, Ivy and get some class to ye, like the co-eds have got. (Starts towards the booth with her.) Aunty.—(Who has nearly reached the polls.) The thought that I am bearing my share of the burdens of state will uphold me! Chest.—And my arm, Lavina. (Strains of "Merry Widow" waltz are heard from music store orchestra.) But I must leave you here. Only one person is allowed in the booth at a time. (Withdraws his manly support.) Ivy.—(Tittering.) Isn't that too funny for anything? Well, Arntie won't be a Merry Widow much longer, and I'm going to be bridesmaid, Willie. (Enter Prof. Armstrong up right. Con goes up to speak to him.) Aunty.—(To Chest.) But you will be here when I return, Jay, will you not, to conduct me from the polls and take me home? Chest.—(Encouragingly.) Certainly, Lavina, and don't forget to mark the name of Grafton Ward, for County Clerk, Lavina (Aunty smiles at him sweetly, nerves herself with a strong effort and enters the booth. Chest comes down to florist's.) Willie.—O, pshaw, Ivy! You oughtn't to think of such things when you're going to vote. Chest.—(Goes up to her on his way to florist's.) All ready to do your civic duty, Miss Ivy? And you're going to vote for my friend Grafton Ward for County Clerk, are you not? Ivy.—Yes, but Willie you'd better see about my flowers, you know, before they're all gone. There's plenty of time for me to vote! (Chest. goes into florist's.) (Constance and Prof. Armstrong come down to bench.) Arm.—Yes, I think there will be a very large vote of the women in all the precincts. You are certainly to be congratulated on the success of your little plot for the encouragement of true citizenship among the women of Stanley. Ivy.—(To Willie.) Arntie is going to get American Beauty roses, and I think I ought to have some, too. Willie.—(Reluctantly.) Well, I'll see about it, Ivy. But flowers are awfully dear today, you know. Con.—A rosebud would be most appreciated for Ivy, Mr. Sapling. And some maidenhair fern. (Willie goes into florist's.) Arm.—The men are getting awfully jealous: they say they have voted for years and never got any flowers for it. Con.—It's been awfully good of you to put in your time like this to help us. Arm.—And a whole month's salary, Miss Constance; presenting flowers to ladies who hadn't any male friends or relatives. But it's in a good cause. (Aunty comes out of booth, advancing down stage with mien more self-important than ever. Chest. emerges from florist's shop holding a single American Beauty rose in his hand goes to meet her.) Con.—(Going up to Aunty.) Now, Aunty, haven't you got that self-respecting feeling? See, here's your badge, aren't you proud to wear it? and Prof. Armstrong says there's been a big vote polled by the women. And you had a lot to do with it. (Pins badge on her.) Aunty.—(With self-satisfied smile.) Yes, Constance. (To Mr. Chest.) O, did you only get one? (Disappointed air.) Chest.—(Making a good bluff.) Yes, Lavina. (Holding the rose off, and gazing at it admiringly.) Because there is only one American Beauty rose— like you. You are the only American Beauty around here and so was this rose. Will you allow me? (Fastens it on her corsage, with a flourish.) Con.—(Going up to Ivy who is waiting for the flowers.) Now it's your turn, Ivy, and don't forget who the best candidates are. (Willie S. comes out of florist's with a single sprig of maidenhair fern.) Willie.--Say, Ivy, this was all I could get, and I had to fight that old Jay Chestnutt for it, too--wanted to give it to his Merry Widow; (disgustedly) and there was only one rose and not a single bud. He had to pay five dollars for it, though, you bet! (Ivy puts but pins on fern, takes Willie's arm and goes over to the polls.) Arm.--(Coming up to Aunty.) Allow me to congratulate you on coming safely through the ordeal! Aunty.--(Languidly.) Yes--but I am quite fatigued. I must rest a moment. (Seats herself on the bench. Chest. sits beside her. Plucks a palm leaf off the potted plant, and fans her with it. (Gramophone in music store, or orchestra, plays national air.) Arm.--(To Con.) As I was saying, the experiment has been a great success, and I am only too happy to have borne my part in it. I fear to be perfectly candid, that my co-operation has been given mainly for your sake, to further your plans and to serve you. Con.--(Gaily.) O, but that will never do, Professor Armstrong! That's just what we women are always accused of; acting from personal motives, and not for highest good of the body politic. I am indeed shocked to hear you make such confession. (Turns away from him, and strolls over toward the bench.) Chest.--(To Aunty.) I think, Lavina, that you might enjoy some ice cream by way of refreshment after your political ordeal. And as this place is so convenient-- (Both rise from the bench and go up to confectionery store.) (Gramophone or orchestra plays Wedding March.) Arm.--(Standing before Constance, as she takes Aunty's place on bench.) I am going to take you at your word, then. You have told me that you made some sacrifice in coming to California, giving up your school and leaving your mother in Colorado. (Con. looks up at him inquiringly.) Now, I am going to ask you to make a greater sacrifice for the good of your native state. (Pauses.) I believe so throughout in your patriotism that I hope you will not hesitate-- Ivy.--(Coming back beside Willie but not leaning on him)--(triumphantly.) There! I've done it, I've voted! Now, where's my Constance? (Con. rises and pins it on.) (Professor Armstrong goes into florist's.) Willie.--(Sheepishly, looking as though he wanted one, however.) O shucks! We men don't have to wear them things! Con.--Aunty and Mr. Chestnutt have gone to get ice cream. Willie.--O gee! Let's us get some too, Ivy! (Go into store.) (Professor Armstrong comes out of florist's carrying bouquet bunch of yellow roses.) Arm.--(Holding out roses to Con.) These are not American Beauties but-- Con.--(Clasping her hands in delight.) California!--O, but they are beauties! Where did you get them? Arm.--(Coming up to her and putting them into her hands.) I had them reserved for you early this morning. Con.--(Inhaling their fragrance.) That was so kind of you--and the color! Golden yellow for my native State, and for our great cause as well. Arm.--For full womanhood, which you tipify--Constance! (Takes her other hand, as she holds the flowers, and draws her down on the bench beside him) (very earnestly.) A new chair of Municipal Government has been endorsed at the University, and I have been asked to take it. But I will consent only on one condition--that you will return to California and be my assistant. Constance, I appeal to you in the name of civic betterment and good citizenship; for the regeneration and progress of your native State, which I know is so dear to your heart. Con.--(In a low voice.) I will-- consider it. Arm.--Favorably! For the cause of True Womanhood! (Looks around-- draws her to him.) (CURTAIN) We Sell Votes for women, pins, pennants and post cards Wear a Blue and Gold Pennant Pin for California and the Suffrage Compaign. "Votes for Women" in gold letters on blue enamel ground. Price, 25 cents. Beautiful Hand-Made "Votes for Women" Pennants in rich shade of yellow felt; black felt letters cut out and sewed on by hand. Order at once as we have only a few in stock. Price, 75 cents. Post Card on white ground with Suffrage Flag in national colors and verses paraphrased from "Star-Spangled Banner." Price, 3 for 5 cents. Post Card with similar verses on yellow ground with Suffrage Banner Design, "California the Next." 3 for 5 cents. Picture Post Card, original design representing the Woman Voter's Purifying Influence in Politics. Price, 3 for 5 cents. "Raise Your Gladsome Voices, Girls, We'll Sing Our Suffrage Song," composed especially for the California Campaign of 1911. Sung to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia." Price, 5 cents each; $1.00 per 100 copies to organizations. Ten Little Reasons Why Women Should Not Vote and What Became of Them. Good to give to Antis. 5 cents each card. VOTES-FOR-WOMEN PUBLISHING CO. 127 Montgomery Street San Francisco DETTNER PRINTING PRESS 461 BUSH STREET, S. F. Transcribed and reviewed by contributors participating in the By The People project at crowd.loc.gov.