Widow
The death of her husband on 6 November 1884 made Millicent temporarily withdraw from public life. She sold both family homes and moved with Philippa into the house of Agnes Garrett, her sister. She resumed work in 1885. Millicent began to concentrate on politics. Originally an active Liberal, she joined the Liberal Unionist party in 1886 in opposition to Irish Home Rule. In 1904 she resigned from the party on the issue of Free Trade when Joseph Chamberlain gained control in his campaign for Tariff Reform.
After the death of Lydia Becker, she became the leader of the National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies (NUWSS), the main suffragist organisation in Britain. She held this post until 1919, a year after the first women had been granted the vote. After that, she left the suffrage campaign for the most part, and devoted much of her time to writing books, including a biography of Josephine Butler.
She was granted an honorary LLD by St. Andrew's University in 1905, awarded a damehood (GBE) in 1925, and died four years later, in 1929. Her memory is preserved now in the name of the Fawcett Society, and in Millicent Fawcett Hall, constructed in 1929 in Westminster as a place that women could use to debate and discuss the issues that affected them. The hall is currently owned by Westminster School and is the location of its drama department, incorporating a 150-seat studio theatre.
Read more about this topic: Millicent Fawcett
Famous quotes containing the word widow:
“Heres to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Heres to the widow of fifty;
Heres to the flaunting extravagant queen;
And heres to the housewife thats thrifty.
Let the toast pass,
Drink to the lass,
Ill warrant shell prove an excuse for the glass.”
—Richard Brinsley Sheridan (17511816)
“I love sitting on your lap. I could sit here all day if you didnt stand up.”
—S.J. Perelman, U.S. screenwriter, Bert Kalmar, Harry Ruby, and Norman Z. McLeod. Groucho Marx, Horsefeathers, a wisecrack made while wooing Connie, the college widow (Thelma Todd)
“. . . A widow bird sat mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.”
—Percy Bysshe Shelley (17921822)