USA > Illinois > Cook County > Chicago > The Congress of Women : held in the Woman's building, World's Columbian exposition, Chicago, U.S.A., 1893 : with portraits, biographies and addresses > Part 97
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If no land cheered their failing hopes, with speed He would return according to their will; But give him three days yet, for good or ill. For all his years of patient study, left Three days to crown with triumph; or, bereft Of opportunity and the laurel wreath Of victory by those minds so far bencath His own grand genius. Faith undinimed still shone And nerved him those three days; although alone, He braved derision, ridicule and scorn. And when the third day came, on its bright morn The sun arose, climbed high, and slowly set. A waste of waters circled, but regret Not then assailed Columbus; day was ended,
But westward, where the sky and water blended, Obscured by sunset's softly fading glow, He ceaseless vigil kept untiring, though The twilight darkening fell upon the deep, And stars appeared their nightly guard to keep. As still he gazed and gazed, a sudden light An instant gleamed on his enraptured sight. Could he believe? Could hope and faith depart, And blissful certainty possess his heart? Not long he doubted, when again it came; No more with transient beam, but steady flamc. He knew his work accomplished; ocean's bound Was passed and measured-proved the world was round And like the egg he used for demonstration To others, great in influence and station, Reputed wise, whose favor to attain He argued, plead, desired and hoped in vain, For Plato's " opposite continent " to find, He dreamed not but to reach the farther Ind. While yet he pondered, loudly surging out From tall main-top-mast came the joyous shout Of " Land! the Land!" the long wished land ahead! Up rushed the crew, and quick the anchor sped Down from its moorings. Now to him advanced His followers all, and, bowing, hardly glanced High as his face; but he, serene and calm, Most graciously received them, and as balm On painful wound, the words that from him fell To their accusing conscience. It were well To leave them thus, but truth compels the end, And to that shameful story none can lend A palliating circumstance or grace, That aught detracts from its revolting face.
What then received he for this gift to men? Attend, it shall be named, although the pen, With trembling indignation scarce controlled, Shrinks from the task its features to unfold.
Vile envy roused devouring jealousy, Calumniation blighting touched, and he, Through selfishness, was sacrificed by those Pretended friends who secretly were foes.
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For honor, degradation was his meed; For gratitude, chains bound him, and his need Gaunt poverty replenished; for a world, A prison his reward: and when unfurled Spain's banner, and the king the land possessed, Another's name Columbo's right confessed. Almost forgotten, then, he died; and now, Four centuries scarce remembered, come to bow Before his fame, as they of ancient days The old and new world's gathered nations. And justice here we offer him; but wait, Give justice it is said! nay, 'tis too late; No justice now, but tardy honor pay To him who over ocean led the way.
Praise
The scene is changed. In swift review years pass, And many names mar history's page-alas! For Cortez false, and Montezuma true, Pizarro, and unfortunate Peru. But haste away from pictures grim, and dwell On things more pleasant far to hear and tell.
A rugged coast; a wintry wind that blows A good ship onward; while each wave that rose Around her gave but impulse toward the shore, Sought by these troubled hearts, to leave no more This haven blest, where with untrammeled zeal To worship God in freedom, and for weal Or woe, as He in whom they trust might give, A sturdy pilgrim band they hoped to live.
Full soon contentment reigned o'er all the land, When once more on them fell oppression's hand. Again the mighty sword must arbitrate. So seven long dreary years throughout the state War's tumult stalked. But peace at length returned, And joined in league with liberty; they earned By thrift prosperity and wealth, until The land too strait became; so, over hill And vale and prairies wild far west they went, Through strange vicissitudes and trials, sent To prove them stanch and with all worthy traits Of worthy sons of the United States.
Again the changing ages shift the scene Where circling horizon sky and earth between Surrounds the barren waste; a little band Of hardy and adventurous spirits stand, Resolved to conquer in life's battle stress- Upbuild a state-transform the wilderness, Make deserts blossom as the rose beside A great metropolis, its people's pride : So from the shore of Michigan's blue water Chicago grew, our greatest, youngest daughter! Most fitting that the latest born of all The cities vast of this wide land should call A universal celebration due That glorious day of fourteen ninety-two.
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As overhead in untrod realms of air Above stupendous towers some mountain fair, So soared Columbo's lofty thought, and grasped, Within its compass, carth by ocean clasped, And we, the monument of his genius great, Do thus his name and fame commemorate. While circumscribed within Chicago's halls, Behold all nations, science all enthralls; For strife assembled, but these fields are won, With smokeless powder and with shotless gun, With wonderful machines; with fabrics fine; Electric marvels; treasures of the minc. Here see rare sculptures; art and objects strange, To elevate the mind, enlarge the range Of thought; amuse, instruct in love and peace, That with such gentle contests wars may ceasc. Ye empires, kings, republics, now give car Unto our welcome! heartfelt welcome, here!
Our task is finished. Ere we part we pause, For swift defying all of nature's laws, Which limit to the past and present hour Man's knowledge, and experience, and power; A bright, prophetic vision, dimly seen, Before us rises, robed in dazzling sheen, And in the zenith of the heavens high, An eagle, gray and hoary, cleaves the sky. Eastward his flight, and hovering o'er the main, Toward Europe gazes. In his own domain Mount we with him, and through his clearer eye View all on sea and land he can decry.
Where prairies stretched their treeless desolation, Lo! fruitful fields and cities bless the nation; Great navies swarm, and, like the birds in motion, On every hand flit over sea and ocean, While o'er them strange, and yet familiar seeming, A banner waves, upon its azure gleaming A single star displayed its rays, disclosing Forms of a hundred stars, the one composing: From sea to sca, from Frigid Zone to Torrid, One Union bounds; and war's contentions horrid Disturb no more. Sweet Truth, its form revealing In beauteous garments; Justice, naught concealing, Dispensing equally to equal worth, With righteous judgment ruling all the earth. See Might and Right now hand in hand united; See brother's love by ample love requited; Mild Peace attending, watching o'er the free, Rewards mankind; and crowning Justice, see, The land of Christopher Columbo named No more America, but Columbia famed.
DRESS IMPROVEMENT.
By MRS. JENNESS MILLER.
There exists such pre-conceived prejudice in the minds of many because of former attempts at dress reform, so-called, that the scope and purpose of the present work for dress improvement is more or less misunder- stood and its value and success under-estimated in consequence.
Dress reform was inaugurated as a crusade against the worst evils, physiologically speaking, of the fash- ionable dress of a period when deforming exagger- ations were conspicuous to a degree. The heroic women who wore the earlier forms of dress reform were martyrs to freedom of body. They did not con- cern themselves with artistic selection, nor strive after picturesque and pleasing effects. Their banner was inscribed with the bold and uncompromising words, dress reform-nothing more.
Because of this fact they did not succeed. Were one, ignorant of color combination, poetic expression and picturesque accessories, to undertake the work of creating a great painting because of technical knowl- edge of drawing, his work would prove essential fail- ure. In like manner, dress-reformers failed to impress the public with the importance of a work that con- cerned itself with physiological functions alone.
MRS. ANNIE JENNESS MILLER.
I emphasize this fact in order that the essential difference between the earlier dress-reform movenients for which modern dress improv- ers have suffered vicariously, and the present effort at evolution of a high type of clothing for the human structure may be recognized and afford a basis for thorough understanding of what is hoped for in the future.
One who carefully examines the pages of fashion magazines, and looks into the history of dress, will find the conclusion forced upon him that there has never been any attempt upon the part of fashion makers to clothe the body consistently. Novelty, exaggeration and display have been the ends sought. The body has been cramped and distorted, its requirements for health and confort disregarded according to the caprice of fashion's arbiters. The fundamental laws of beauty have been violated, and the human form robbed of its expression to what end? Who can answer? One might offer defense of the dress of today, but he would be compelled to reverse his decision tomorrow, for what obtains today may be regarded by the fashionable world tomorrow as "perfectly hideous," as women are often heard to say of fashion plates that are out of date.
Trace dress through its successive changes, and its absurdities, frivolities, deform-
Mrs. Annie Jenness Miller is a native of New England. She was born in the White Mountains, January 28, 1859. Her parents were Solomon Jenness and Susan Wendell Jenness, both of the oldest New England stock. She was educated prin- cipally at Boston, Mass., and by private tutors. She has traveled over nearly all of the European continent and many times over America, Canada and parts of Mexico. She married in 1887 Mr. Conrad Miller. Her special work has been in the interest of women and a higher physical status for the race, one branch of which has been dress improvement. Her principal literary works are " Physical Beauty " and " Mother and Babe," besides which she is the owner and publisher of the "Jenness Miller Monthly." Her profession is literature and platform speaking. In religious faith she is Episcopalian. Her postoffice address is Washington, D. C.
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THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
ities and exaggerations are almost beyond belief. At fashion's command, anything may become the vogue without regard to eternal fitness. Women vie with each other in being the first to appear on the promenade in the latest fashionable caprice, and yet women, when appealed to in the name of health, grace and art, timidly ask: " Could one wear such a dress?"
All this brings us back to the central truth, that the education of principles hav- ing reference to line, color, arrangement and expression, must precede any great advance in artistic methods of dress. There are laws fixed and unchangeable that may be learned, and we are just now at the threshold of this great study of bodily possibilities and clothing for accurate expression.
Like all higher artistic evolution the work proceeds slowly, because of ignorance, prejudice and tradition, but the triumph of higher forms of dress is as certain as the progress of human beings along other lines of science and art.
Physical development must precede the artistic clothing of the body. We must become as gods in physical grace and expression before the highest types of dress will perfectly become us. While our bodies are ill-shapen, chest sunken, shoulders raised, abdomen protruded, classically free dress seems in truth to exaggerate our deformities; but once our bodies become nobly erect and vitally expressive, dress radiating from the natural points of support in free lines, will seem artistically grace- ful and expressive. For this reason I always urge upon my hearers and followers con- servation and good judgment in selecting and adapting the least exaggerated forms of prevailing fashions while working with muscles, nerve-centers and joints for grace- ful poise and bodily culture. A stiff and unyielding figure will not become at once beautiful and expressive through disregarding the garments that have cramped motion, but disregarding such garments will give the body that freedom without which improvement remains impossible. Therefore, bodily development and free dress must go hand in hand for higher results.
Art in dress demands study of the body and adaptability of fabric, color and dec- oration of individuality. Exquisite needlework and ornamentation of a noble and not of the trivial kind will make the dress of the future sumptuous, elegant, costly and magnificent, according to the requirements of time and place.
Upon the other hand, art knowledge and regard for form and fitness will make simple dress devoted to the utilities no less attractive in its place and for its purpose than the robes of the lady of wealth, whose social requirements demand splendor and richness. The eternal principles of art in dress will be recognized as fixed and unchangeable, and regard for nature's unalterable laws will prove the keynote to eternal harmonics.
Inconsistencies in general extend to all departments of dress under fashion's rule. Fashion gives no attention to such fine distinction as appropriate dress for dif- ferent occasions, excepting it be a distinction between evening and street attire, and even these are not arbitrary. Street dress frequently offends good taste by too great length, suitable to house and carriage wear only; while evening dress jostles street attire upon occasions that should be sacred to picturesque costuming.
When art in dress becomes recognized, every walk in life and every occasion will have its appropriate dress, and every class of society will be the gainer. Under the regime of art in dress no woman will be seen picking her way along filthy streets in a dress-skirt bedraggled with mud, nor will women wear gems and rich fabrics at church, cloth tailor-made gowns in the reception room and high hats loaded with bustling and aggressive trimmings at the theater. We shall not be served by kitchen girls arrayed in tawdry finery; shop girls in cheap jewelry and cotton lace, nor denied our- selves the privilege of proper selection in dress for time and place in any profession. In short, with the study of principles order will evolve from chaos, and each depart- ment of work will have its recognized dress, appropriate in detail, self-respecting, because the right thing for our immediate needs, and beautiful because appropriate.
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RESIDENT MEMBERS OF THE BOARD OF LADY MANAGERS.
1. MRS. BERTHA M. HONORÉ PALMER,
Chicago, Ill.
2. MRS. SOLOMON THATCHER, JR., River Forest, I'll.
5. FRANCES DICKINSON, M. D., Chicago, Ill.
Chicago, Ill. Chicago, Ill.
9. MRS. MATILDA B. CARSE, Chicago, Ill.
8. MRS. JAMES R. DOOLITTLE, JR., Chicago, Ill.
3. MRS. L. BRACE SHATTUCK, Chicago, Ill.
4. MRS. JAMES A. MULLIGAN, Chicago, Ill.
6. MRS. M. R. M. WALLACE,
7. MRS. LEANDER STONE,
THE ITALIAN WOMAN IN THE COUNTRY .* By COUNTESS CORA SLOCOMB DI BRAZZA.
The peasant women of Italy. Who of you on hearing those words does not think of the opera chorus gesticulating as gracefully as jointed dolls expressing emotion by clock work, or the swarthy fruit seller at a frequented corner, or of some weary wan family of immigrants such as has more than once crossed your path?
And yet the peasant woman of Italy among her native fields, olive groves and vineyards resembles none of these, and I trust when we part you will be truly acquainted with our humble sisters across the seas and carry away in your heart one grain of the rich harvest of love I bear them.
I will introduce you to those I have known inti- mately in Fruili, for it is better to have a clear impres- sion of a group than a confused memory of a mass, the more so as the peasants in the north of Italy live in isolated homes, and each household forms a com- plete miniature government, composed of many gen- erations and ramifications of relatives living as one family and submitting to a regularly patriarchal ad- ministration of their interests. Some of these peasant homesteads, with their courtyards, barns and out- houses, shelter no less than fifty human beings, scores of quadrupeds and hundreds of feathered bipeds. The COUNTESS CORA SLOCOMB DI BRAZZA. father of the oldest branch directs the others, or in case he feels incompetent through age, the son in whose favor he abdicates reigns supreme over the conglomerated existences. No individual feels entitled to sign a contract or undertake any enterprise without consent of his chief or else formally cut- ting loose from the guidance of his relatives who he knows will show him no pity if once he has broken with the immemorial traditions of co-operative duty among the members of peasant clans. Should the hereditary chief prove himself incapable of guiding the household, he is formally deposed by his relatives and another member of his family, endowed with the necessary ability, is elected, by vote, in his place, in which case the women as well as the men are consulted.
Among the peasants the ancient Biblical appreciation of a numerous offspring flourishes, and to remain childless or be forced to replace the willing toilsome hands of sons and daughters by hired help is felt to be a keen disgrace.
Much is to be learned by visiting this unfrequented province, which lies directly north of Venice, and so I trust you will permit me to lead you in imagination through some of the pleasant experiences which await you there.
Countess Cora Ann Slocomb Di Brazza Savorgnan is a native of New Orleans, La. She was born January 7, 1862. Her parents were Cuthbert Harrison Slocomb, captain of Washington Artillery, and Abby Sarah Day Slocomb. She was educated, up to the death of her father, at New Orleans; then spent two years in the North with private tutors ; at thirteen years of age went abroad, studied German in Germany, French in France, and finished her education on the Isle of Wight. She visited Italy for the first time in 1887, when she met and married Count Detalmo di Brazza Savorgnan. Her special work has been in the interest of poor people living on her estates in Northern Italy or in the City of Rome, her winter residence. She speaks fluently four languages, English, French, German and Italian, and makes all the designs for her own lace school. She came to the World's Fair in charge of the Italian Lace Exhibit and the Queen's laces, with the object of making Italian lace known to the public of the United States and establish a trade with this country. In religious faith she is a Protestant Epis- copalian. Her postoffice address is Castello di Brazza, presso Udine, or Palazzo Vaccari Via del Tritore, Rome.
*The title of the address, as delivered in the Congress was "Life of the Italian Woman in the Country."
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The fast express leaves Venice at 2 o'clock every afternoon and is due in Udine, the capital of Fruili, at 4:20. It first traverses the massive viaduct, which rises above the blue lagoon, which is ever dotted with orange and red lateen-sails. The salt marshes and sluggish waterways we see sleeping tranquilly on our right like a worn- out combatant, the sacred fortress of Margera, so gloriously defended in 1849 by a few brave men in the Italian rebellion against foreign rule, when the Austrians henmed the volunteers in on every side except that of the city. There another more dreaded foe, the " cholera," wielded the scepter. All had surrendered but this handful of stanch hearts, and still they fought on, single-hand, until in the baptism of their own blood and misery the dross engendered by the case of centuries was washed from their characters and every Venetian was born again a hero.
The train crosses the hot, rich Venetian plains; then it turns to the East and seems to lose itself on the verdant plain of Fruili, the great Patria or fatherland, from which the Venetians fled a thousand years ago before the devastating hordes of bloody Attila, surnamed " the plague of God." Now all is pretty, prosperous, peaceful; the waving fields of grain, the rippling water-courses, sparkle in the sunshine. The neat roads, leading to well filled barns, are planted in avenues of great shade trees; the peasant houses are large, the meadows are rich, and the gray cattle fat and sleepy. All seems to speak of contentment and repose and one is aroused with a kind of a moral shock at sight of the old Mahin country house, with its memories of turbu- lence and war. For, by an irony of fate, this beautiful home of the last of the Doges of the Venetian republic, was chosen as a resting place by the modern Cæsar, Napo- leon I., when he was studying the peace of Campoformido, which forged the chain of Venetian slavery to Austria. Ilere on this very spot it was welded upon the neck of the once proud Venetian republic with gold rung from her children by purchasing Austria to furnish the conqueror (alas! a born Italian) with the sinews necessary to carry on to fresh fields of misery his conquering banners and their attendant train of WOCS.
The train whistles twice. The modern suburbs of a prosperous little city come in sight. . The past is lost in the present. The thirty thousand inhabitants of Udine greet you with the clatter of iron foundries, cotton and flour mills and a hundred other great industries-young life, young enterprise, have conquered. United Italy has arisen, strengthened by that long period of suffering. We pass through the turreted city gate and you gaze in wonder upon gushing fountains, electric lights, gas burners, tramways, and telephone wires interlaced curiously among the ancient palaces. A miniature parlia- ment existed on the citadel of Udine centuries before the proud barons of England com- pelled King John in 1215 to sign the Magna Charta, assuring to their descendants liberty and representation. This little Patria can, therefore, boast of having been one of the old- est countries in Europe to possess a representative assemblage by election and by inher- itance, divided into two bodies, called the Peers and Commons. These met yearly in Udine to decide on all that concerned the well being of the country, and this parlia- ment only ceased to exist when Napoleon conquered Italy.
We can not linger. Time is flying, and we must hasten on that you may become acquainted with the people up in the hills around the castle and learn to love them a little before we part.
The carriage spins out of the gate at the other end of the town and away between the Indian corn-fields, called there Turkish grain, and the vineyards. The road is macadamized and very white. It is flanked on either side by deep ditches and mul- berry trees which have been cropped into a resemblance to chubby, rotund personali- ties. There are millions of them, stretching row upon row, as far as the eye can reach. Their leaves serve to feed the silkworms, for you are in Italy, which produces one- fourth of the silk consumed in the world, and in one of the two provinces which yields the most silk in Italy.
The peasant men who pass salute respectfully, but the women here are very proud, reserved and dignified, and never bow unless they are acquainted. The strong soft
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homespun in which these people are clothed is composed of the refuse left from the silk culture, which is washed, carded, spun, dyed and woven at home by the women and made by the village tailors into most comfortable and durable costumes. This material is, alas! being supplanted by cheap factory goods also made up by the tailors, for the peasant women consider that none but men can fashion garments worthy of admiration.
The horses climb up and up through picturesque villages, and past flowering walls and verdant vineyards, orchards and copses. On every side bits of most charming landscape attract the eye studded with villages, and you are in Fruili, the third most populous country in the world, China and Belgium alone having more inhabitants to the square mile.
The carriage spins over a long rough causeway flanked by old acacia trees. At the end stands between massive stone columns a wide open iron gate draped in wysteria and roses, forming a graceful frame to a ruined castle that closes the vista. From its highest tower float the Stars and Stripes and the Tricolor of United Italy, sanctified by the White Cross of Savoy.
We have reached home. A hubbub of sweet feminine voices caresses the ear; down the old terrace steps swarm half a hundred girls led by a gary-haired old hunch- back. They scramble to kiss our hands, they courtesy and murmur " Servito suo." They are very neat, with their white aprons and sleeves and bonny kerchiefs. They are the children of the Home Lace School, who learn the new patterns and then teach them in their turn to their one hundred and fifty companions in the neighboring villages. Many of the little ones have been to the public school all the morning, and the big ones come from the fields or stables, for as soon as they can get away they hasten to their lace cushions as to an entertainment, fresh and merry as chattering magpies.
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