Free Woman by Marion Meade Page B

platform. But once she began to speak, her stage fright disappeared. When she had finished, the hall went wild. Delegates applauded, cheered, and stamped their feet. Vicky had never seen anything like it. Neither, remarked Isabella Hooker, had she.
    Fired by enthusiasm, the delegates voted to cancel the rest of the speeches and panel discussions on their agenda. There was no need for further discussion about how women might get the vote. Now, thanks to Vicky, their path was clear.
    "It's time for action!" called out one delegate. "I propose we go to the polls and vote!”
    Accordingly, a bold resolution was drawn up and approved. It read: "It is the duty of American women to apply for registration to vote. In all cases where they fail to secure it, suits should be instituted."
    Small wonder that the captivated feminists adored Vicky. They were convinced that their battle was over.
     
    Back in New York, the adulation continued. Vicky's new feminist friends called on her at home and invited her to tea. Isabella Beecher Hooker, recently having vowed she would never speak to Vicky, became her most devoted admirer. Often she wrote her letters which began, "My Darling Queen. . . ."
    Vicky made headlines across the country. "This is the bravest and best move the women have made yet," one paper gushed.
    The Philadelphia Press described Vicky's appearance at the feminist convention: "Mrs. Woodhull sat sphinx-like during the convention. General Grant himself might learn a lesson of silence from the pale, sad face of this unflinching woman. She reminds one of the forces of nature behind the storm, or a small splinter of the indestructible."
    The weeks ahead were to be the most gratifying of Vicky's life. From all sides came love, admiration, and respect. She received invitations to lecture and soon had embarked on a new career as a speaker. People began calling her "The Woodhull," as if she were a ship or a public monument. For the time being, the public forgot her reputation as a "loose" woman.
    So extreme was the praise that a backlash was probably inevitable. One of the first groups to criticize Vicky was the opponents of women's rights. Many people believed the feminists to be a bunch of neurotic women with crazy ideas. The fact that they would associate with a woman like Victoria Woodhull proved it.
    The other group that rejected Vicky were the feminists. In those days the women's movement was far from united in its goals. In fact, the women had quarreled so bitterly among themselves that some of the more conservative feminists like Lucy Stone had established a rival organization, the American Woman's Suffrage Association.
    The days before the Civil War had been an exciting, romantic time. For the first time in history, a few courageous women began to challenge a way of life millenniums old.
    After the war, confusion set in. Some feminists thought women should concentrate on getting the vote for the Negro. Others, like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, wanted to work for women. She felt unsure about the ballot being the most important issue. In fact, she once said the ballot was a crumb compared to the larger issue of sexual emancipation. The ills of women ran far deeper than merely not being able to vote.
    Unlike Elizabeth Stanton and Susan Anthony, many who called themselves feminists did not think family life had to be changed before women could be liberated. They never questioned woman's inferior position in marriage. They were against divorce. They never discussed indiscreet subjects like birth control or sexuality.
    In reality, they were like nonfeminist Victorian women, prudish and straitlaced. Lucy Stone, for example, had once attacked the famous actress Sarah Bernhardt and warned people not to attend her performances. Bernhardt, husband-less, had borne four children.
    Now, Lucy Stone and others spoke up disapprovingly. They said Vicky would hurt the cause of women's rights. To support her was irresponsible.
    Women from the National