Louise Michel—A Radical Disappointment
It was with more or less fearful forebodings—my body encased in a complete suit of mail, my first appearance in this male attire for many years, with daggers, pistols, and revolvers in every available pocket, and with several swords hung nonchalantly about me—that I wended my way last week to Steinway Hall, to hear Louise Michel. As I approached the building I was considerably surprised at not finding the streets filled with conspirators in long cloaks and slouched hats; the thoroughfare, as far as I could see, having a most ordinary appearance. Inside the hall, however, there was a marked difference to the usual gatherings at this place for a morning performance; instead of the seats being filled with fashionably-dressed people, there was a beggarly row of empty benches, the crowds of Communists that I had expected would have welcomed and cheered the grand citoyenne having omitted to turn up. In almost solitary grandeur I sat and listened to the unimpassioned utterances, expecting every minute to hear something awful, but was only rewarded by an awfully dreary lecture on the down-trodden condition of females generally, which seemed to be simply sarcastic, considering I had just been reading a copy of the Married Woman's Property Act. There was no dynamite or blowings up, except verbal recriminations, and at last disgusted that there were no bombs or anything of that kind to go off, I went off myself.
- “Louise Michel—A Radical Disappointment,” Moonshine 7, no. 3 (January 20, 1882): 33.