History of Woman Suffrage Volume I Part 49

Several perilous emergencies in her life are vividly recalled--such as being overturned while in a carriage with a child in her arms, the horse meanwhile floundering amid the _debris_, a shaft broken, and dash-board kicked into splinters.

At another time, shots at the road-side set off the horses in a run. Seeing her husband, in his struggle to rein them in, jerked up from his seat and held thus braced and half-standing, she caught him round the waist, adding her weight to his, and thus enabled him to pull the harder, till the steady, silent tug upon the reins tamed down the steeds. Her residence at Belleville, N.

J., had no near neighbors, stood back from the road, and was nearly hidden by trees and shrubbery. The old stone structure, dating back to 1700, was known as the "haunted house." Being very large, with barn, sheds, and several out-houses, it was specially attractive to stragglers and burglars. Stories had been long afloat of outrages perpetrated there, among which was a murder a century before, with a burglary and robbery more recent. We had not been long there, when one night Angelina, waked by suspicious noises, listened, till certain that a burglar must be in the house. Then, stealing softly from the room, she struck a light, and explored from cellar to attic, looking into closets, behind doors, and under beds. For a slight, weak woman, hardly able to lift an empty tea-kettle, thus to dare, shows, whether we call it courage or presumption, at least the absence of all fear. None of the family knew of this fact, until an accident long after revealed it.

Some years after this, when visiting in a friend's family in the absence of the parents, she often took the children to ride. Upon returning one day, she said to the cook, "Maggie, jump in, and I'll give you a ride." So away they went. Soon a by-road struck off from the main one. Turning in to explore it, she found that it ran a long way parallel to the railroad. Suddenly Maggie screamed: "O missus! I forgot. This is just the time for the express, and this is the horse that's awful afraid of the cars, and n.o.body can hold him. Oh, dear, dear!" Seeing Maggie's fright, she instantly turned back, saying, "Now, Maggie, if the train should come before we get back to the turn, do just what I tell you, and I'll bring you out safe." "Oh, yes, missus! I will! I will!" "Mark, now. Don't scream; don't touch the reins; don't jump out; 'twill kill you dead if you do. Listen, and, as soon as you hear the cars coming, drop down on the bottom of the wagon.

Don't look out; keep your eyes and mouth shut tight. I'll take care of you." Down flat dropped Maggie on the bottom, without waiting to hear the train. Soon the steam-whistle screamed in front, instead of rear, as expected! Short about she turned the horse, and away he sprang, the express thundering in the rear.

For a mile the road was a straight, dead level, and right along the track. At utmost speed the frantic animal strained on. On plunged the train behind. Neither gained nor lost. No sound came but the rushing of steed and train. It was a race for life, and the blood horse won. Then, as the road turned from the track up a long slope, the train shot by, taming the horse's fright; but, as his blood was up, she kept him hard pushed to the crest of the slope, then slacked his pace, and headed him homeward. Faithful Maggie stuck fast to her promise and to the wagon-bottom, until told, "It's all over," when she broke silence with her wonderments. When she got home the kitchen rang with exclamations. That race was long her standing topic, she always insisting that she wasn't scared a bit, not she, because she "knew the missus wasn't."

While living in New Jersey, word came that a colored man and his wife, who had just come to the township, were lying sick of malignant small-pox, and that none of their neighbors dared go to them. She immediately sought them out, and found them in a deplorable plight, neither able to do anything for the other, and at once became to them eyes, hands, feet, nurse, care-taker and servant in all needed offices; and thus, relieved in nursing and watching by a friend, her patients were able, after three days, to minister in part to each other. Meanwhile, no neighbor approached them.

Some striking traits were scarcely known, except by her special intimates; and they were never many. Her fidelity in friendship was imperishable. Friends might break with her; she never broke with them, whatever the wrong they had done her. She never stood upon dignity, nor exacted apology, nor resented an unkindness, though keenly feeling it; and, if falsely accused, answered nothing. She never spoke disparagingly of others, unless clearest duty exacted it. Gossips, tattlers, and backbiters were her trinity of horrors. Her absolute truthfulness was shown in the smallest things. With a severe sincerity, it was applied to all those customs looked upon as mere forms involving no principle--customs exacting the utterance of what is not meant, of wishes unfelt, sheer deceptions. She never invited a visit or call not desired. If she said, "Stay longer," the words voiced a wish felt. She could not be brought under bondage to any usage or custom, any party watch-word, or shibboleth of a speculative creed, or any mode of dress or address. In Charleston, she was exact in her Quaker costume, because, to the last punctilio, it was an anti-slavery doc.u.ment; and for that she would gladly make any sacrifice of personal comfort. But, among the "Friends" in Philadelphia, she would not wear an article of dress which caused her physical inconvenience, though it might be dictated by the universal usage of "Friends." Upon first exchanging the warmth of a Carolina winter for the zero of a Northern one, she found the "regulation" bonnet of the "Friends" a very slight protection from the cold. So she ordered one made of fur, large enough to protect both head and face. For this departure from usage, she was admonished, "It was a grief to 'Friends,'" "It looked like pride and self-will," "It was an evil example," etc. While adhering strictly to the principles of "Friends," neither she nor her sister Sarah could conform to all their distinctive usages, nor accept all their rules. Consequently, their examples were regarded as quiet protests against some of the settled customs of the Society. Such they felt bound to make them in word and act.

Thus they protested against the negro-seat in their meeting-house, by making it their seat. They also felt constrained to testify against a rule requiring that no Friend should publish a book without the sanction of the "Meeting for Sufferings"; so, also, the rule that any one who should marry out of the Society should, unless penitent, be disowned.

Consequently, when Angelina thus married, she was disowned, as was Sarah for sanctioning the marriage by her presence. The committee who "dealt" with them for those violations of the rule, said that if they would "express regret," they would relieve the meeting from the painful necessity of disowning them. The sisters replied that, feeling no regret, they could express none; adding that, as they had always openly declared their disapproval of the rule, they could neither regret their violation of it, nor neglect so fit an occasion for thus emphasizing their convictions by their acts; adding that they honored the "Friends" all the more for that fidelity which constrained them to do, however painful, what they believed to be their duty.

Angelina's "Appeal to the Christian Women of the South" "made her a forced exile from her native State." As she never voluntarily spoke of what she had done or suffered, few, if any, of the Abolitionists, either knew then, or know now, that she was really exiled by an Act of the Charleston city government. When her "Appeal" came out, a large number of copies were sent by mail to South Carolina. Most of them were publicly burned by postmasters.

Not long after this, the city authorities learned that Miss Grimke was intending to visit her mother and sisters, and pa.s.s the winter with them. Thereupon the mayor of Charleston called upon Mrs. Grimke, and desired her to inform her daughter that the police had been instructed to prevent her landing while the steamer remained in port, and to see to it that she should not communicate, by letter or otherwise, with any persons in the city; and, further, that if she should elude their vigilance, and go on sh.o.r.e, she would be arrested and imprisoned, until the return of the steamer. Her Charleston friends at once conveyed to her the message of the mayor, and added that the people of Charleston were so incensed against her, that if she should go there, despite the mayor's threat of pains and penalties, she could not escape personal violence at the bands of the mob. She replied to the letter, that her going would doubtless compromise her family; not only distress them, but put them in peril, which she had neither heart nor right to do; but for that fact, she would certainly exercise her const.i.tutional right as an American citizen, and go to Charleston to visit her relatives, and, if for that the authorities should inflict upon her pains and penalties, she would willingly bear them, a.s.sured that such an outrage would help to reveal to the free States the fact that slavery defies and tramples alike const.i.tutions and laws, and thus outlaws itself.

When the American Anti-Slavery Society wrote to Miss Grimke, inviting her to visit New York city, and hold meetings in private parlors with Christian women, on the subject of slavery, upon reading their letter, she handed it to her sister Sarah, saying, "I feel this to be G.o.d's call. I can not decline it." A long conversation followed, the details of which I received from Sarah not long after; and, as they present vividly the marked characteristics of both sisters, I give in substance such as I can recall.

S.--But you know that you are const.i.tutionally retiring, self-distrustful, easily embarra.s.sed. You have a morbid shrinking from whatever would make you conspicuous.

A.--Yes, you have drawn me to the life. I confess that I have all that, and yet at times I have nothing of it. I know that I am diffident about a.s.suming responsibilities; but when I feel that anything is mine to do, no matter what, then I have no fear.

S.--You are going among strangers, you wear strange garments, speak in a strange language, will be in circ.u.mstances wholly novel, and about a work that you never attempted, and most of those who will listen to you have prejudices against Abolitionists, and also against a woman's speaking to any audience. Now in all there embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances, and in your lack of self-confidence when you come to face an unsympathizing audience, does not it seem likely that you will find it impossible to speak to edification, and thus will be forced to give it up altogether?

A.--Yes, it seems presumptuous for me to undertake it; but yet I can not refuse to do it. The conviction is a part of me. I can not absolve myself from it. The responsibility is thrust upon me.

I can not thrust it off.

S.--I know you will not and can not. My only desire is for you deliberately to look at all things just as they are, and give each its due weight. If, after that, your conviction is unchanged, with my whole heart I'll help you to carry it out.

There is but one thing more that I think of. If you were to go upon this mission without the sanction of the "Meeting for Sufferings," it would be regarded as disorderly, a violation of the established usage of the Society, and they would probably feel compelled to disown you. [This was prior to the disownment that followed the marriage].

A.--As my mind is made up absolutely to go, I can not ask their leave to go. For their fidelity to their views of duty, I honor them. It is a grief to me to grieve them, but I have no alternative. Very unpleasant it will be to be disowned, but misery to be self-disowned.

S.--I have presented these considerations, that you might carefully traverse the whole question and count all the costs. I dare not say a word against your decision. I see that it is final, and that you can make no other. To me, it is sacred. While we have been talking, I, too, have made my decision. It is this: where you go, I will go; what you do, I will to my utmost help you in doing. We have always thought and wept and prayed together over this horrible wrong, and now we will go and work together. There will be a deal to be done in private also; that I can help you about, and thus you will have the more strength to give to the meetings.

So Miss Grimke wrote at once to the committee, accepting their invitation, thanking them for the salary offered, but declining to receive any; informing them that her sister would accompany her, and that they should both go exclusively at their own expense.

In 1864, Mr. and Mrs. Weld removed to Hyde Park, where the sisters spent the rest of their days. No one who met Angelina there would have any suspicion of the great work which she had done: she was interested in her household duties, and the little charities of the neighborhood.

Once, during the war, she was persuaded to go out of her daily routine, and to attend a small meeting called for the purpose of a.s.sisting the Southern people--freedmen, and those who had formerly held them in slavery. Very simply and modestly, but very clearly and impressively, she spoke of the condition of things at the South, of her friends there, and how we could best help them--all in the most loving and tender spirit, as if she had only grateful memories of what they had been, and as if no thought of herself mingled with the thought of them. The simplicity, directness, and practical good sense of her speech then, its kindliness toward those who had done her the greatest wrong, and the entire absence of self-consciousness, made those who heard her feel that a woman might speak in public without violating any of the proprieties or prejudices of social traditions and customs. There was a refinement and dignity about her, an atmosphere of gentleness and sweetness and strength, which won their way to the heart. To those who knew her history, there was something very affecting, sublime, in her absolute self-forgetfulness. As one who knew her most intimately said, "She seems to have been born in that mood of mind which made vanity or display impossible. She was the only person I have ever known who was absolutely free from all ambition."

s.p.a.ce prevents a fitting record of the n.o.ble words and deeds of Sarah Moore Grimke. She published in 1838, a volume of "Letters on the Equality of the s.e.xes," which called out much discussion on woman's position in both State and Church. The last time Angelina spoke in public was at the Loyal League Convention in New York in 1863. She took an active part in the discussion of resolutions, speaking clearly and concisely on every point, and read a beautiful address she had prepared--"To the Soldiers of our Second Revolution." All through the years that Angelina was ill.u.s.trating woman's capacity on the platform by holding her audiences spell-bound, Sarah was defending woman's right to be there with her pen.

FOOTNOTES:

[59] Mrs. Ellet's "Women of the Revolution."

[60] Angelina E. Grimke.

[61] This building, the property of Jacob Peirce, was thus imperilled with his free consent.

[62] The a.s.sembly Buildings, opened to us by the kindness of the lessee, Mr. John Toy.

[63] She was the positive power of so much anti-slavery work, that James Russell Lowell spoke of her as "the coiled-up mainspring of the movement."

[64] In speaking of her, Lydia Maria Child said in her obituary notice in the _National Anti-Slavery Standard_ of May 11, 1867: "All survivors of the old Abolition band will remember Thankful Southwick as one of the very earliest, the n.o.blest, and the most faithful of that small army of moral combatants who fought so bravely and so perseveringly for the deliverance of the down-trodden. Mrs. Southwick was born and educated in the Society of Friends, and to their calmness of demeanor she added their indomitable persistence in the path of duty. One of the most exciting affairs that ever occurred in Boston was known as the 'Baltimore Slave Case.' Two girls had escaped in a Boston vessel, and when about to be carried back, were brought out on a writ of 'habeas corpus.' All Boston was in a ferment for and against the fugitives. The commercial world were determined that this Southern property should be restored to the white claimants, and the Abolitionists were determined that it should remain in the possession of the original owners until a bill of sale from the Almighty could be produced. By the vigilance and ingenious arrangements of 'Father Snowden' and Thankful Southwick, at a given signal the slaves were spirited away from the crowded court-room, and out of the city. The agent of the slaveholders standing near Mrs. Southwick, and gazing with astonishment at the empty s.p.a.ce, where an instant before the slaves stood, she turned her large gray eyes upon him and said, 'Thy prey hath escaped thee.' Wherever working or thinking was to be done for our righteous cause, there was Thankful Southwick ever ready with wise counsel and energetic action. She and her excellent husband were among the very first to sustain Garrison in his unequal contest with the strong Goliath of slavery. At that time they were in affluent circ.u.mstances, and their money was poured forth freely for the unpopular cause which had as yet found no adherents among the rich.

Their commodious house was a caravansary for fugitive slaves, and for anti-slavery pilgrims from all parts of the country. At the anniversary meetings when most of the Abolitionists were desirous to have for their guests, Friend Whittier, the Hon. James G. Birney, George Thompson, Theodore, or Angelia Weld, Joseph and Thankful Southwick were quietly looking about for such of the anti-slavery brothers and sisters as were too little known to be likely to receive invitations. Always kindly unpretending, clear-sighted to perceive the right, and faithful in following it wherever it might lead. They were upright in all their dealings with the world, tender and true in the relations of private life and the memory they have left is a benediction."

[65] On a recent visit at the home of Robert Purvis, of Philadelphia, in talking over those eventful days one evening in company with Daniel Neale, it was amusing and gratifying to hear those gentlemen dilate on the grandeur of her bearing through those mobs in Pennsylvania Hall.

It seems on that occasion she had a beautiful crimson shawl thrown gracefully over her shoulders. One of these gentlemen remarked, "I kept my eye on that shawl, which could be seen now here, now there, its wearer consulting with one, cheering another; and I made up my mind that until that shawl disappeared, every man must stand by his guns."

[66] Abby Kelly.

[67] Just previous to this Convention Horace Mann, President of Antioch College, had been giving a lecture through the country, and made many severe strictures on the false philosophy of the woman suffrage movement, or rather what he supposed it to be. This was considered the more damaging because Mr. Mann so strongly favored co-education. It was as if one in our own camp had suddenly turned traitor. Among other things he said that our legislative halls were such bear gardens that they were not fit for women to enter. It is to this remark reference is made in the debates.

[68] This letter will be found in "Reminiscences of Lucretia Mott," at the close of this chapter.

[69] See Appendix.

[70] See Appendix.

[71] In accordance with this plan Matilda Joslyn Gage prepared a story, ent.i.tled "The Household," treating different phases of woman's wrongs, and presented it to the Committee. But as nothing was ever done to carry out the proposition, the ma.n.u.script was returned to the author, and slumbers in her garret with other rejected ma.n.u.scripts.

[72] The first National Convention held in Washington was in January, 1869.

[73] Joseph C. Neal.

[74] It seems these inexperienced parents had armed themselves with the most approved works on the construction and capacities of infants, in one of which they found the statement that the stomach of a new-born child could hold only one tablespoonful of milk. Accordingly the boy was restricted to that amount, once an hour. Although he protested against this limited supply by constant wailing, and shrivelled from day to day into a miniature mummy, the system was pursued, until at last "Sister Sarah," who had had suspicions for some time that the child's capacity was underrated, thought she would a.s.sume the responsibility of giving him for once all the milk he could take. What he did do, so far outmeasured what the doctrinaire said he could do, that the child was happily permitted ever after to decide for himself. The faith of the trusting parents was thus visibly shaken in one theory, and I am happy to add, in due time in many others, regarding the Graham system of dietetics.

CHAPTER XI

LUCRETIA MOTT.

Eulogy at the Memorial Services[75] held in Washington by the National Woman Suffrage a.s.sociation, January 19, 1881. By Elizabeth Cady Stanton.

On the 3d of January, 1793, the little island of Nantucket, fifteen miles by three and a half, lying far out into the sea on the coast of Ma.s.sachusetts, welcomed to its solitude a child destined to be one of America's most famous women. This was a fitting birthplace for Lucretia Mott; as the religion and commerce of the island (named for a woman) had been guided by a woman's brain. In 1708 Mary Starbuck, known as "The Great Merchant," a woman of remarkable breadth of intellect, as well as great executive ability, converted the colony to Quakerism, and vindicated woman's right to interest herself in the commerce of the world. Perhaps she, like the good genii of old, brought her gifts to that cradle and breathed into the new life the lofty inspiration that made this woman the prophet and seer she was.

Here were the descendants of John Wolman, William Rotch, George Fox, the Macys, the Franklins, the Folgers; and in this pure atmosphere, and from these distinguished ancestors, Lucretia Mott received her inheritance. Her father was an honest, sea-faring Quaker. Her mother belonged to the Folger family, whose culture, genius, common-sense, and thrift culminated in Benjamin Franklin, and later, in Lucretia Mott. The resemblance between her head and that of the philosopher and statesman, was apparent to the most casual observer.

Mrs. Mott says in her diary: "I always loved the good in childhood, and desired to do the right. In those early years I was actively useful to my mother, who, in the absence of my father on his long voyages, was engaged in mercantile business, often going to Boston to purchase goods in exchange for oil and candles, the staple of the island. The exercise of women's talents in this line, as well as the general care which devolved upon them, in the absence of their husbands, tended to develop and strengthen them mentally and physically.

"In 1804 my father's family removed to Boston, and in the public and private schools of that city I mingled with all cla.s.ses without distinction. It was the custom then to send the children of such families to select schools; but my parents feared that would minister to a feeling of cla.s.s pride, which they felt was sinful to cultivate in their children. And this I am glad to remember, because it gave me a feeling of sympathy for the patient and struggling poor, which but for this experience I might never have known." Under such humane influences, with such ancestors and a.s.sociations, in the public schools, in the Friends' meeting, on the adventurous island, and in the suburbs of Boston, the child pa.s.sed into girlhood, with lessons of industry and self-denial well learned, and with her life all before.

She lived in a period when women of genius had vindicated their right to be recognized in art, science, literature, and government, and through many of the great events that have made the United States a Nation. It was such a combination of influences that developed Lucretia Mott into the exceptional woman she was.

In an unlucky hour her father endorsed for a friend, and to save his honor, was compelled to lose his property. It was a blow from which he did not recover, and henceforward much of the support of the family devolved upon the mother, who had remarkable tact, energy, and courage. Both parents were ambitious for their children, and did all they could for their education; that was one thing about which all Quakers were tenacious. In her fourteenth year Lucretia and her elder sister were sent to "The Nine Partners," a Friends boarding-school in Dutchess County, New York, and there pursuing her studies with patient zeal, she remained two years without once going home for a holiday vacation. At fifteen, a teacher having left, Lucretia was made an a.s.sistant, and at the end of the second year, was tendered the place of teacher, with the inducement beside, that her services would ent.i.tle a younger sister to her education.

Her well-balanced character enabled her to meet with calmness, all life's varied trials, of which she had her full share. As one of eight children in her father's house, with his financial embarra.s.sments, and sudden death: and afterward with five children of her own, and her husband's reverses; Lucretia's heroism and strength of mind were fairly tested. In both of these financial emergencies, she opened a school, and by her success as a teacher, bridged over the chasm.