THE LAST RESERVES
To-day I read in one of our newspapers an account of a religious
convention which is going on in our city. It said that one of the lady
delegates asked if, in view of the great scarcity of men to take the
various fields, and the increased number of vacancies, the theological
course in their colleges would be opened to women? And the report
said, "A ripple of amusement swept over the convention."
I know that ripple. I know it well! The Church has always been amused
when the advancement of women has been mentioned right out boldly like
that. There are two things which have never failed to bring a laugh--a
great, round, bold oath on the stage, and any mention of woman
suffrage in the pulpit. They have been sure laugh-producers. When we
pray for the elevation of the stage in this respect, we should not
forget the Church!
I have been trying to analyze that ripple of amusement. Here is the
situation: The men have gone out to fight. The college halls are empty
of boys, except very young ones. One of the speakers at the same
session said, "We do not expect to get in boys of more than eighteen
years of age." Churches are closed for lack of preachers. What is to
be done about it? No longer can Brother M. be sent to England to bring
over pink-cheeked boys to fill the ranks of Canada's preachers. The
pink-cheeked ones are also "over there." There is no one to call upon
but women. So why was the suggestion of the lady delegate received
with amusement? Why was it not acted upon? For although there were
many kind and flattering things said about women, their great services
to Church and State, yet the theological course was not opened.
The Church has been strangely blind in its attitude toward women, and
with many women it will be long remembered with a feeling of
bitterness that the Church has been so slow to move.
The Government of the Western Provinces of Canada gave full equality
to women before that right was given by the Church. The Church has not
given it yet. The Church has not meant to be either unjust or unkind,
and the indifference and apathy of its own women members have given
the unthinking a reason for their attitude. Why should the vote be
forced on women? they have asked. It is quite true that the women of
the Church have not said much, for the reason that many of the
brightest women, on account of the Church's narrowness, have withdrawn
and gone elsewhere, where more liberty could be found. This is
unfortunate, and I think a mistake on the part of the women. Better to
have stayed and fought it out than to go out slamming the door.
Many sermons have I listened to in the last quarter of a century of
fairly regular church attendance; once I heard an Englishman preaching
bitterly of the Suffragettes' militant methods, and he said they
should all "be condemned to motherhood to tame their wild spirits."
And I surely had the desire to slam the door that morning, for I
thought I never heard a more terrible insult to all womankind than to
speak of motherhood as a punishment. But I stayed through the service;
I stayed after the service! I interviewed the preacher. So did many
other women! He had a chastened spirit when we were through with him.
I have listened to many sermons that I did not like, but I possessed
my soul in patience. I knew my turn would come--it is a long lane that
has no tomato-cans! My turn did come--I was invited to address the
conference of the Church, and there with all the chief offenders lined
up in black-coated, white-collared rows, I said all that was in my
heart, and they were honestly surprised. One good old brother, who I
do not think had listened to a word that I said, arose at the back of
the church and said: "I have listened to all that this lady has had to
say, but I am not convinced. I have it on good authority that in
Colorado, where women vote, a woman once stuffed a ballot-box. How can
the lady explain that?" I said I could explain it, though, indeed, I
could not see that it needed any explanation. No one could expect
women to live all their lives with men without picking up some of
their little ways! That seemed to hold the brother for a season!
The Church's stiff attitude toward women has been a hard thing to
explain to the "world." Many a time I have been afraid that it would
be advanced as a reason for not considering woman suffrage in the
State. "If the Church," politicians might well have said, "with its
spiritual understanding of right and justice, cannot see its way clear
to give the vote to women, why should the State incur the risk?"
Whenever I have invited questions, at the close of an address, I have
feared that one. That cheerful air of confidence with which I urged
people to speak right up and ask any question they wished always
covered a trembling and fearful heart. You have heard of people
whistling as they passed a graveyard, and perhaps you thought that
they were frivolously light-hearted? Oh, no! That is not why they
whistled!
When the vote was given to the women in our province and all the
other Western provinces, I confess that I thought our worst troubles
were over. I see now that they were really beginning. A second
Hindenburg line has been set up, and seems harder to pierce than the
first. It is the line of bitter prejudice! Some of those who, at the
time the vote was given, made eloquent speeches of welcome, declaring
their long devotion to the cause of women, are now busily engaged in
trying to make it uncomfortably hot for the women who dare to enter
the political field. They are like the employers who furnish seats for
their clerks in the stores, yet make it clear that to use them may
cost their jobs.
The granting of the franchise to women in western Canada, was brought
about easily. It won, not by political pressure, but on its merits.
There is something about a new country which beats out prejudice, and
the pioneer age is not so far removed as to have passed out of memory.
The real men of the West remember gratefully how the women stood by
them in the old hard days, taking their full share of the hardships
and the sacrifice uncomplainingly. It was largely this spirit which
prompted the action of the legislators of the West. As Kipling says:--
Now and not hereafter, while the breath is in our nostrils,
Now and not hereafter, ere the meaner years go by,
Let us now remember many honorable women--
They who stretched their hands to us, when we were like to die!
There was not any great opposition here in western Canada. One member
did say that, if women ever entered Parliament, he would immediately
resign; but the women were not disturbed. They said that it was just
another proof of the purifying effect that the entrance of women into
politics would have! Sitting in Parliament does not seem like such a
hard job to those of us who have sat in the Ladies' Gallery and looked
over; there is such unanimity among members of Parliament, such
remarkable and unquestioning faith in the soundness of their party's
opinion. In one of the Parliaments of the West there sat for twelve
years an honored member who never once broke the silence of the back
benches except to say, "Aye," when he was told to say, "Aye." But on
toward the end of the thirteenth year he gave unmistakable signs of
life. A window had been left open behind him, and when the draft blew
over him--he sneezed! Shortly after, he got up and shut the window!
Looking down upon such tranquil scenes as these there are women who
have said in their boastful way that they believe they could do just
as well--with a little practice!
Women who sit in Parliament will do so by sheer merit, for there is
still enough prejudice to keep them out if any reason for so doing can
be found. Their greatest contribution, in Parliament and out of it,
will be independence of thought.
Women have not the strong party affiliations which men have. They have
no political past, no political promises to keep, no political sins to
expiate. They start fair and with a clean sheet. Those who make the
mistake of falling into old party lines, and of accepting ready-made
opinions and prejudices, will make no difference in the political
life of the country except to enlarge the voters' list and increase
the expenses of elections.
Just now partyism is falling into disfavor, for there are too many
serious questions to be fought out. There are still a few people who
would rather lose the war than have their party defeated, but not
many. "When the Empire is in danger is no time to think of men,"
appeals to the average thinking man and woman. The independent man who
carefully thinks out issues for himself, and who is not led away by
election cries, is the factor who has held things steady in the past.
Now it seems that this independent body will be increased by the new
voters, and if so, they will hold in their hands the balance of power
in any province, and really become a terror to evil-doers as well as a
praise to those who do well!
Old things are passing away, and those who have eyes to see it know
that all things are becoming new. The political ideals of the far-off,
easy days of peace will not do for these new and searching times.
Political ideals have been different from any other. Men who would
not rob a bank or sandbag a traveler, and who are quite punctilious
about paying their butcher and their baker, have been known to rob the
country quite freely and even hilariously, doctoring an expense sheet,
overcharging for any service rendered. "Good old country," they have
seemed to say, "if I do not rob you, some one else will!"
This easy conscience regarding the treasury of the country is early
shown in the attitude toward road-work, those few days' labor which
the municipality requires men to do as part payment of their taxes.
Who has not noticed the languorous ease of the lotus-eating
road-workers as they sit on their plough-handles and watch the slow
afternoon roll by?
Politics too long has been a mystical word which has brought visions
of a dark but fascinating realm of romantic intrigue, sharp deals,
good-natured tricks, and lucky strikes. The greatest asset a
politician can have is the ability to "put it over" and "get something
for us." The attitude of the average voter has been that of
expectancy. If he renders a public service, he expects to be
remunerated. His relation to his country has not been, "What can I
do?" but, "What can I get?" His hand has been outstretched palm
upward! Citizenship to us has not meant much; it has come too easy,
like money to the rich man's son! All things have been ours by
inheritance--free speech, freedom of religion, responsible government.
Somebody fought for these things, but it was a long time ago, and only
in a vague way are we grateful! These things become valuable only when
threatened.
There hangs on the wall, in one of the missions in the city of
Winnipeg, a picture of a street in one of the Polish villages. In it
the people are huddled together, cowering with fear. The priest,
holding aloft the sacred crucifix, stands in front of them, while down
the street come the galloping Cossacks with rifles and bayonets.
Polish men and women have cried bitter tears before that picture. They
knew what happened. They knew that the sacred sign of the crucifix did
not stay the fury of the Cossacks! These are the people, these Polish
people, who have been seen to kiss the soil of Canada in an ecstasy of
gladness when they set foot upon it, for it is to them the land of
liberty. Liberty of speech and of action, safety of life and of
property mean something to them; but we have always enjoyed these
things, and esteem them lightly.
The first blow between the eyes that our complacency received was
Belgium!--that heroic little country to whose people citizenship was
so much dearer than life or riches, or even the safety of their loved
ones, that they flung all these things away, in a frenzy of devotion,
for the honor of their country and her good name among nations. This
has disturbed us: we cannot forget Belgium. It has upset our
comfortable Canadian conscience, for it has given us a glimpse of the
upper country, and life can never be the same again. It is not all of
life to live--that is, grow rich and quit work.
The heroism of the trenches is coming back to us. It is filtering
through. It is the need for heroism which is bringing it out. We are
playing a losing game, even though we are winning. There is only one
thing more disastrous than a victory, and that is a defeat. I do not
need to enumerate what we are losing--we know. What can we do to make
good the loss? Some of our people have always done all they could:
they have always stood in the front trench and "carried on"; others
have been in the "stand-to" trench, and have done well, too, in time
of stress. Many have not yet signed on, but they will: they are not
cowards, they are only indifferent. This has been true of the
protected woman in the home, who has not considered herself a citizen.
We have come to the place now when our full force must be called out.
The women are our last reserves. If they cannot heal the world, we are
lost, for they are the last we have--we cannot call the angels down.
The trumpets are calling now in every street of every town, in every
country lane, even in the trackless fastnesses of the North Country.
The call is for citizens,--woman citizens,--who, with deft and
skillful fingers, will lovingly, patiently undertake the task of
piecing together the torn mantle of civilization; who will make it so
strong, so beautiful, so glorified, that never again can it be torn or
soiled or stained with human blood. The trumpets are calling for
healers and binders who will not be appalled at the task of nursing
back to health a wounded world, shot to pieces by injustice, greed,
cruelty, and wrong thinking.
The sign of the Red Cross is a fitting emblem for the Order, worn not
only on the sleeve, but in the heart; red to remind its wearer that
God made all people of one blood, and is the Father of all; and the
Cross which speaks of the One whose mission on earth was to save; who
came not to be ministered unto, but to minister. Every one who signs
on does so for "duration," and must consider herself under orders
until the coming in of that glad day
"When men shall brothers be
And form one family
The wide world o'er!"