Please attach to this a paper for signatures.
Amongst this proud array of titled names it will be noticed that it is not headed by our “first lady,” and that none of the wives of the present Cabinet are enrolled amongst the same. When one of the leaders of this movement laid this petition before a Cabinet dame, asking her signature, this gracious lady answered, “I have all the rights I want; I find more than I can do in my own sphere of duties, but this subject is too deep, and too broad to be acted upon, except after the most serious reflection. Although I coincide with Catherine Beecher’s views, I think if we come out with our petitions we are doing that which we so much condemn in the strong-minded. Besides, I dare not accept the responsibility of speaking for the poor and lowly of my own sex. Let them talk if they want to; this is a free country, and they have a right to be heard.”
During one of the sessions of the convention, Mrs. Hooker alluded to this petition, and said she was glad that women were beginning to think. That anything was better than this apathy and indifference, for just as soon as women began to think about the subject all doubts concerning the success of the movement would be brushed away. She was glad that Miss Murdoch had been heard upon the same subject. These same strong-minded women had opened the platform to their sex, and they were willing that women should now come forward to help extinguish that power.
The morning of the last day’s session opened with every star of the movement, both great and small, twinkling upon the stage, if we except one pale sister. This was the mischief, Tennie Claflin, of the Wall-street firm. Susan B. Anthony, who means to be close-mouthed, had opened her lips, and out came some useful information. She said that Mrs. Woodhull had been up whispering in the President’s ear, but just exactly what did take place at the White House would only be known to those who were present. Mrs. Victoria Woodhull sat sphinx-like during the talk of Miss Anthony. General Grant himself might learn a lesson of silence from the pale, sad face of the unflinching woman. Other women have talked during this convention, but Mrs. Woodhull has read what she had to say from printed slips of paper. No chance to send an arrow through the opening seams of her mail. Apparently she has had little to do in this campaign, and yet everything has revolved around her. She reminds one of the force in nature behind the storm, and if her veins were opened they would be found to contain ice. When money was needed to carry on this movement, she headed the list with ten thousand dollars. She did this without the least emotion perceptible on her face unless it seemed to say, “I have planted, but I can wait.”