Mr. Editor,--If you ever read the “Burroak Banner” (which you will find
among your exchanges, as the editor publishes your prospectus for six
weeks every year, and sends no bill to you) my name will not be that of
a stranger. Let me throw aside all affectation of humility, and say that
I hope it is already and not unfavorably familiar to you. I am informed
by those who claim to know that the manuscripts of obscure writers are
passed over by you editors without examination--in short, that I must
first have a name, if I hope to make one. The fact that an article of
three hundred and seventy-five pages, which I sent, successively, to the
“North American Review,” the “Catholic World,” and the “Radical,” was in
each case returned to me with MY knot on the tape by which it was tied,
convinces me that such is indeed the case. A few years ago I should not
have meekly submitted to treatment like this; but late experiences have
taught me the vanity of many womanly dreams.
You are acquainted with the part I took (I am SURE you must have seen
it in the “Burroak Banner” eight years ago) in creating that public
sentiment in our favor which invested us with all the civil and
political rights of men. How the editors of the “Revolution,” to which
I subscribe, and the conventions in favor of the equal rights of women,
recently held in Boston and other cities, have failed to notice our
noble struggle, is a circumstance for which I will not try to account. I
will only say--and it is a hint which SOME PERSONS will understand--that
there are other forms of jealousy than those which spring from love.
It is, indeed, incredible that so little is known, outside the State of
Atlantic, of the experiment--I mean the achievement--of the last eight
years. While the war lasted, we did not complain that our work was
ignored; but now that our sisters in other States are acting as if in
complete unconsciousness of what WE have done--now that we need their
aid and they need ours (but in different ways), it is time that somebody
should speak. Were Selina Whiston living, I should leave the task to
her pen; she never recovered from the shock and mortification of her
experiences in the State Legislature, in '64--but I will not anticipate
the history. Of all the band of female iconoclasts, as the Hon. Mr.
Screed called us in jest--it was no jest afterwards, HIS image being the
first to go down--of all, I say, “some are married, and some are dead,”
and there is really no one left so familiar with the circumstances as I
am, and equally competent to give a report of them.
Mr. Spelter (the editor of the “Burroak Banner”) suggests that I must
be brief, if I wish my words to reach the ears of the millions for
whom they are designed; and I shall do my best to be so. If I were not
obliged to begin at the very beginning, and if the interests of Atlantic
had not been swallowed up, like those of other little States, in the
whirlpool of national politics, I should have much less to say. But if
Mr. George Fenian Brain and Mrs. Candy Station do not choose to inform
the public of either the course or the results of our struggle, am I to
blame? If I could have attended the convention in Boston, and had been
allowed to speak--and I am sure the distinguished Chairwoman would have
given me a chance--it would have been the best way, no doubt, to set our
case before the world.
I must first tell you how it was that we succeeded in forcing the men to
accept our claims, so much in advance of other States. We were indebted
for it chiefly to the skill and adroitness of Selina Whiston. The matter
had been agitated, it is true, for some years before, and as early as
1856, a bill, drawn up by Mrs. Whiston herself, had been introduced into
the Legislature, where it received three votes. Moreover, we had held
meetings in almost every election precinct in the State, and our Annual
Fair (to raise funds) at Gaston, while the Legislature was in session,
was always very brilliant and successful. So the people were not
entirely unprepared.
Although our State had gone for Fremont in 1856, by a small majority,
the Democrats afterwards elected their Governor; and both parties,
therefore, had hopes of success in 1860. The canvass began early, and
was very animated. Mrs. Whiston had already inaugurated the custom of
attending political meetings, and occasionally putting a question to the
stump orator--no matter of which party; of sometimes, indeed, taking the
stump herself, after the others had exhausted their wind. She was very
witty, as you know, and her stories were so good and so capitally told,
that neither Democrat nor Republican thought of leaving the ground while
she was upon the stand.
Now, it happened that our Congressional District was one of the closest.
It happened, also, that our candidate (I am a Republican, and so is Mr.
Strongitharm) was rather favorably inclined to the woman's cause. It
happened, thirdly--and this is the seemingly insignificant pivot upon
which we whirled into triumph--that he, Mr. Wrangle, and the opposing
candidate, Mr. Tumbrill, had arranged to hold a joint meeting at
Burroak. This meeting took place on a magnificent day, just after the
oats-harvest; and everybody, for twenty miles around, was there. Mrs.
Whiston, together with Sarah Pincher, Olympia Knapp, and several other
prominent advocates of our cause, met at my house in the morning; and
we all agreed that it was time to strike a blow. The rest of us
magnanimously decided to take no part in the concerted plan, though very
eager to do so. Selina Whiston declared that she must have the field to
herself; and when she said that, we knew she meant it.
It was generally known that she was on the ground. In fact, she spent
most of the time while Messrs. Wrangle and Tumbrill were speaking,
in walking about through the crowds--so after an hour apiece for the
gentlemen, and then fifteen minutes apiece for a rejoinder, and the
Star Spangled Banner from the band, for both sides, we were not a
bit surprised to hear a few cries of “Whiston!” from the audience.
Immediately we saw the compact gray bonnet and brown serge dress (she
knew what would go through a crowd without tearing!) splitting the wedge
of people on the steps leading to the platform. I noticed that the two
Congressional candidates looked at each other and smiled, in spite of
the venomous charges they had just been making.
Well--I won't attempt to report her speech, though it was her most
splendid effort (as people WILL say, when it was no effort to her at
all). But the substance of it was this: after setting forth woman's
wrongs and man's tyranny, and taxation without representation, and an
equal chance, and fair-play, and a struggle for life (which you know all
about from the other conventions), she turned squarely around to the two
candidates and said:
“Now to the practical application. You, Mr. Wrangle, and you, Mr.
Tumbrill, want to be elected to Congress. The district is a close one:
you have both counted the votes in advance (oh, I know your secrets!)
and there isn't a difference of a hundred in your estimates. A
very little will turn the scale either way. Perhaps a woman's
influence--perhaps my voice--might do it. But I will give you an equal
chance. So much power is left to woman, despite what you withhold, that
we, the women of Putnam, Shinnebaug, and Rancocus counties, are able to
decide which of you shall be elected. Either of you would give a great
deal to have a majority of the intelligent women of the District on your
side: it would already be equivalent to success. Now, to show that we
understand the political business from which you have excluded us--to
prove that we are capable of imitating the noble example of MEN--we
offer to sell our influence, as they their votes, to the highest
bidder!”
There was great shouting and cheering among the people at this, but the
two candidates, somehow or other, didn't seem much amused.
“I stand here,” she continued, “in the interest of my struggling
sisters, and with authority to act for them. Which of you will bid
the most--not in offices or material advantages, as is the way of your
parties, but in the way of help to the Woman's Cause? Which of you
will here publicly pledge himself to say a word for us, from now until
election-day, whenever he appears upon the stump?”
There was repeated cheering, and cries of “Got 'em there!” (Men are so
vulgar).
“I pause for a reply. Shall they not answer me?” she continued, turning
to the audience.
Then there were tremendous cries of “Yes! yes! Wrangle! Tumbrill!”
Mr. Wrangle looked at Mr. Tumbrill, and made a motion with his head,
signifying that he should speak. Then Mr. Tumbrill looked at Mr.
Wrangle, and made a motion that HE should speak. The people saw all
this, and laughed and shouted as if they would never finish.
Mr. Wrangle, on second thoughts (this is my private surmise), saw that
boldness would just then be popular; so he stepped forward.
“Do I understand,” he said, “that my fair and eloquent friend demands
perfect political and civil equality for her sex?”
“I do!” exclaimed Selina Whiston, in her firmest manner.
“Let me be more explicit,” he continued. “You mean precisely the
same rights, the same duties, the same obligations, the same
responsibilities?”
She repeated the phrases over after him, affirmatively, with an emphasis
which I never heard surpassed.
“Pardon me once more,” said Mr. Wrangle; “the right to vote, to hold
office, to practise law, theology, medicine, to take part in all
municipal affairs, to sit on juries, to be called upon to aid in the
execution of the law, to aid in suppressing disturbances, enforcing
public order, and performing military duty?”
Here there were loud cheers from the audience; and a good many voices
cried out: “Got her there!” (Men are so very vulgar.)
Mrs. Whiston looked troubled for a moment, but she saw that a moment's
hesitation would be fatal to our scheme, so she brought out her words as
if each one were a maul-blow on the butt-end of a wedge:
“All--that--we--demand!”
“Then,” said Mr. Wrangle, “I bid my support in exchange for the women's!
Just what the speaker demands, without exception or modification--equal
privileges, rights, duties and obligations, without regard to the
question of sex! Is that broad enough?”
I was all in a tremble when it came to that. Somehow Mr. Wrangle's
acceptance of the bid did not inspire me, although it promised so much.
I had anticipated opposition, dissatisfaction, tumult. So had Mrs.
Whiston, and I could see, and the crowd could see, that she was not
greatly elated.
Mr. Wrangle made a very significant bow to Mr. Tumbrill, and then sat
down. There were cries of “Tumbrill!” and that gentleman--none of us,
of course, believing him sincere, for we knew his private views--came
forward and made exactly the same pledge. I will do both parties
the justice to say that they faithfully kept their word; nay, it was
generally thought the repetition of their brief pleas for woman, at some
fifty meetings before election came, had gradually conducted them to
the belief that they were expressing their own personal sentiments. The
mechanical echo in public thus developed into an opinion in private.
My own political experience has since demonstrated to me that this is a
phenomenon very common among men.
The impulse generated at that meeting gradually spread all over the
State. We--the leaders of the Women's Movement--did not rest until we
had exacted the same pledge from all the candidates of both parties; and
the nearer it drew towards election-day, the more prominence was given,
in the public meetings, to the illustration and discussion of the
subject. Our State went for Lincoln by a majority of 2763 (as you will
find by consulting the “Tribune Almanac”), and Mr. Wrangle was elected
to Congress, having received a hundred and forty-two more votes than his
opponent. Mr. Tumbrill has always attributed his defeat to his want of
courage in not taking up at once the glove which Selina Whiston threw
down.
I think I have said enough to make it clear how the State of Atlantic
came to be the first to grant equal civil and political rights to women.
When the Legislature of 1860-'61 met at Gaston, we estimated that we
might count upon fifty-three out of the seventy-one Republican Senators
and Assemblymen, and on thirty-four out of the sixty-five Democrats.
This would give a majority of twenty-eight in the House, and ten in
the Senate. Should the bill pass, there was still a possibility that
it might be vetoed by the Governor, of whom we did not feel sure. We
therefore arranged that our Annual Fair should be held a fortnight later
than usual, and that the proceeds (a circumstance known only to the
managers) should be devoted to a series of choice suppers, at which we
entertained, not only the Governor and our friends in both Houses, but
also, like true Christians, our legislatorial enemies. Olympia Knapp,
who, you know, is so very beautiful, presided at these entertainments.
She put forth all her splendid powers, and with more effect than any of
us suspected. On the day before the bill reached its third reading,
the Governor made her an offer of marriage. She came to the managers in
great agitation, and laid the matter before them, stating that she was
overwhelmed with surprise (though Sarah Pincher always maintained that
she wasn't in the least), and asking their advice. We discussed the
question for four hours, and finally decided that the interests of
the cause would oblige her to accept the Governor's hand. “Oh, I am so
glad!” cried Olympia, “for I accepted him at once.” It was a brave, a
noble deed!
Now, I would ask those who assert that women are incapable of conducting
the business of politics, to say whether any set of men, of either
party, could have played their cards more skilfully? Even after the
campaign was over we might have failed, had it not been for the suppers.
We owed this idea, like the first, to the immortal Selina Whiston.
A lucky accident--as momentous in its way as the fall of an apple to
Newton, or the flying of a kite to Dr. Franklin--gave her the secret
principle by which the politics of men are directed. Her house in
Whittletown was the half of a double frame building, and the rear-end of
the other part was the private office of--but no, I will not mention the
name--a lawyer and a politician. He was known as a “wirepuller,” and the
other wire-pullers of his party used to meet in his office and discuss
matters. Mrs. Whiston always asserted that there was a mouse-hole
through the partition; but she had energy enough to have made a hole
herself, for the sake of the cause.
She never would tell us all she overheard. “It is enough,” she would
say, “that I know how the thing is done.”
I remember that we were all considerably startled when she first gave us
an outline of her plan. On my saying that I trusted the dissemination of
our principles would soon bring us a great adhesion, she burst out with:
“Principles! Why if we trust to principles, we shall never succeed! We
must rely upon INFLUENCES, as the men do; we must fight them with their
own weapons, and even then we are at a disadvantage, because we cannot
very well make use of whiskey and cigars.”
We yielded, because we had grown accustomed to be guided by her; and,
moreover, we had seen, time and again, how she could succeed--as, for
instance, in the Nelson divorce case (but I don't suppose you ever heard
of that), when the matter seemed nigh hopeless to all of us. The history
of 1860 and the following winter proves that in her the world has lost
a stateswoman. Mr. Wrangle and Governor Battle have both said to me that
they never knew a measure to be so splendidly engineered both before the
public and in the State Legislature.
After the bill had been passed, and signed by the Governor, and so had
become a law, and the grand Women's Jubilee had been held at Gaston,
the excitement subsided. It would be nearly a year to the next State
election, and none of the women seemed to care for the local and
municipal elections in the spring. Besides, there was a good deal of
anxiety among them in regard to the bill, which was drawn up in almost
the exact terms used by Mr. Wrangle at the political meeting. In fact,
we always have suspected that he wrote it. The word “male” was simply
omitted from all laws. “Nothing is changed,” said Mrs. Whiston, quoting
Charles X., “there are only 201,758 more citizens in Atlantic!”
This was in January, 1861, you must remember; and the shadow of the
coming war began to fall over us. Had the passage of our bill been
postponed a fortnight it would have been postponed indefinitely, for
other and (for the men) more powerful excitements followed one upon
the other. Even our jubilee was thinly attended, and all but two of the
members on whom we relied for speeches failed us. Governor Battle, who
was to have presided, was at Washington, and Olympia, already his wife,
accompanied him. (I may add that she has never since taken any active
part with us. They have been in Europe for the last three years.)
Most of the women--here in Burroak, at least--expressed a feeling of
disappointment that there was no palpable change in their lot, no sense
of extended liberty, such as they imagined would come to transform them
into brighter and better creatures. They supposed that they would at
once gain in importance in the eyes of the men; but the men were now
so preoccupied by the events at the South that they seemed to have
forgotten our political value. Speaking for myself, as a good Union
woman, I felt that I must lay aside, for a time, the interests of my
sex. Once, it is true, I proposed to accompany Mr. Strongitharm to a
party caucus at the Wrangle House; but he so suddenly discovered that
he had business in another part of the town, that I withdrew my
proposition.
As the summer passed over, and the first and second call for volunteers
had been met, and more than met, by the patriotic men of the State (how
we blessed them!) we began to take courage, and to feel, that if our
new civil position brought us no very tangible enjoyment, at least it
imposed upon us no very irksome duties.
The first practical effect of the new law came to light at the August
term of our County Court. The names of seven women appeared on the list
of jurors, but only three of them answered to their names. One, the wife
of a poor farmer, was excused by the Judge, as there was no one to look
after six small children in her absence; another was a tailoress, with
a quantity of work on hand, some of which she proposed bringing with her
into Court, in order to save time; but as this could not be allowed,
she made so much trouble that she was also finally let off. Only one,
therefore, remained to serve; fortunately for the credit of our sex,
she was both able and willing to do so; and we afterward made a
subscription, and presented her with a silver fish-knife, on account of
her having tired out eleven jurymen, and brought in a verdict of $5,000
damages against a young man whom she convicted of seduction. She told
me that no one would ever know what she endured during those three days;
but the morals of our county have been better ever since.
Mr. Spelter told me that his State exchanges showed that there had been
difficulties of the same kind in all the other counties. In Mendip (the
county-town of which is Whittletown, Mrs. Whiston's home) the immediate
result had been the decision, on the part of the Commissioners, to build
an addition at the rear of the Court-House, with large, commodious and
well-furnished jury-rooms, so arranged that a comfortable privacy was
secured to the jury-women. I did my best to have the same improvement
adopted here, but, alas! I have not the ability of Selina Whiston
in such matters, and there is nothing to this day but the one vile,
miserable room, properly furnished in no particular except spittoons.
The nominating Conventions were held in August, also, and we were
therefore called upon to move at once, in order to secure our fair
share. Much valuable time had been lost in discussing a question of
policy, namely, whether we should attach ourselves to the two parties
already in existence, according to our individual inclinations, or
whether we should form a third party for ourselves. We finally accepted
the former proposition, and I think wisely; for the most of us were so
ignorant of political tricks and devices, that we still needed to learn
from the men, and we could not afford to draw upon us the hostility of
both parties, in the very infancy of our movement.
Never in my life did I have such a task, as in drumming up a few women
to attend the primary township meeting for the election of delegates. It
was impossible to make them comprehend its importance. Even after I had
done my best to explain the technicalities of male politics, and fancied
that I had made some impression, the answer would be: “Well, I'd go,
I'm sure, just to oblige you, but then there's the tomatoes to be
canned”--or, “I'm so behindhand with my darning and patching”--or,
“John'll be sure to go, and there's no need of two from the same
house”--and so on, until I was mightily discouraged. There were just
nine of us, all told, to about a hundred men. I won't deny that our
situation that night, at the Wrangle House, was awkward and not entirely
agreeable. To be sure the landlord gave us the parlor, and most of
the men came in, now and then, to speak to us; but they managed the
principal matters all by themselves, in the bar-room, which was such a
mess of smoke and stale liquor smells, that it turned my stomach when I
ventured in for two minutes.
I don't think we should have accomplished much, but for a 'cute idea of
Mrs. Wilbur, the tinman's wife. She went to the leaders, and threatened
them that the women's vote should be cast in a body for the Democratic
candidates, unless we were considered in making up the ticket.
THAT helped: the delegates were properly instructed, and the County
Convention afterward nominated two men and one woman as candidates for
the Assembly. That woman was--as I need hardly say, for the world knows
it--myself. I had not solicited the honor, and therefore could not
refuse, especially as my daughter Melissa was then old enough to
keep house in my absence. No woman had applied for the nomination for
Sheriff, but there were seventeen schoolmistresses anxious for the
office of County Treasurer. The only other nomination given to the
women, however, was that of Director (or rather, Directress) of the
Poor, which was conferred on Mrs. Bassett, wife of a clergyman.
Mr. Strongitharm insisted that I should, in some wise, prepare
myself for my new duties, by reading various political works, and I
conscientiously tried to do so--but, dear me! it was much more of a task
than I supposed. We had all read the debate on our bill, of course; but
I always skipped the dry, stupid stuff about the tariff, and finance,
and stay laws and exemption laws, and railroad company squabbles; and
for the life of me I can't see, to this day, what connection there is
between these things and Women's Rights. But, as I said, I did my best,
with the help of Webster's Dictionary; although the further I went the
less I liked it.
As election-day drew nearer, our prospects looked brighter. The
Republican ticket, under the editorial head of the “Burroak Banner,”
with my name and Mrs. Bassett's among the men's, was such an evidence,
that many women, notably opposed to the cause, said: “We didn't want the
right, but since we have it, we shall make use of it.” This was exactly
what Mrs. Whiston had foretold. We estimated that--taking the
County tickets all over the State--we had about one-twentieth of the
Republican, and one-fiftieth of the Democratic, nominations. This was
far from being our due, but still it was a good beginning.
My husband insisted that I should go very early to the polls. I could
scarcely restrain a tear of emotion as I gave my first ballot into the
hands of the judges. There were not a dozen persons present, and the
act did not produce the sensation which I expected. One man cried
out: “Three cheers for our Assemblywoman!” and they gave them; and I
thereupon returned home in the best spirits. I devoted the rest of the
day to relieving poorer women, who could not have spared the time to
vote, if I had not, meanwhile, looked after their children. The last
was Nancy Black, the shoemaker's wife in our street, who kept me waiting
upon her till it was quite dark. When she finally came, the skirt of her
dress was ripped nearly off, her hair was down and her comb broken; but
she was triumphant, for Sam Black was with her, and SOBER. “The first
time since we were married, Mrs. Strongitharm!” she cried. Then she
whispered to me, as I was leaving: “And I've killed HIS vote, anyhow!”
When the count was made, our party was far ahead. Up to this time, I
think, the men of both parties had believed that only a few women, here
and there, would avail themselves of their new right--but they were
roundly mistaken. Although only ten per cent. of the female voters went
to the polls, yet three-fourths of them voted the Republican ticket,
which increased the majority of that party, in the State, about eleven
thousand.
It was amazing what an effect followed this result. The whole country
would have rung with it, had we not been in the midst of war. Mr.
Wrangle declared that he had always been an earnest advocate of the
women's cause. Governor Battle, in his next message, congratulated
the State on the signal success of the experiment, and the Democratic
masses, smarting under their defeat, cursed their leaders for not having
been sharp enough to conciliate the new element. The leaders themselves
said nothing, and in a few weeks the rank and file recovered their
cheerfulness. Even Mrs. Whiston, with all her experience, was a little
puzzled by this change of mood. Alas! she was far from guessing the
correct explanation.
It was a great comfort to me that Mrs. Whiston was also elected to the
Legislature. My husband had just then established his manufactory of
patent self-scouring knife-blades (now so celebrated), and could not
leave; so I was obliged to go up to Gaston all alone, when the session
commenced. There were but four of us Assemblywomen, and although the
men treated us with great courtesy, I was that nervous that I seemed
to detect either commiseration or satire everywhere. Before I had even
taken my seat, I was addressed by fifteen or twenty different gentlemen,
either great capitalists, or great engineers, or distinguished lawyers,
all interested in various schemes for developing the resources of our
State by new railroads, canals or ferries. I then began to comprehend
the grandeur of the Legislator's office. My voice could assist in making
possible these magnificent improvements, and I promised it to all. Mr.
Filch, President of the Shinnebaug and Great Western Consolidated Line,
was so delighted with my appreciation of his plan for reducing the
freight on grain from Nebraska, that he must have written extravagant
accounts of me to his wife; for she sent me, at Christmas, one of the
loveliest shawls I ever beheld.
I had frequently made short addresses at our public meetings, and
was considered to have my share of self-possession; but I never could
accustom myself to the keen, disturbing, irritating atmosphere of the
Legislature. Everybody seemed wide-awake and aggressive, instead of
pleasantly receptive; there were so many “points of order,” and what
not; such complete disregard, among the members, of each other's
feelings; and, finally--a thing I could never understand, indeed--such
inconsistency and lack of principle in the intercourse of the two
parties. How could I feel assured of their sincerity, when I saw the
very men chatting and laughing together, in the lobbies, ten minutes
after they had been facing each other like angry lions in the debate?
Mrs. Whiston, also, had her trials of the same character. Nothing ever
annoyed her so much as a little blunder she made, the week after the
opening of the session. I have not yet mentioned that there was already
a universal dissatisfaction among the women, on account of their being
liable to military service. The war seemed to have hardly begun, as
yet, and conscription was already talked about; the women, therefore,
clamored for an exemption on account of sex. Although we all felt
that this was a retrograde movement, the pressure was so great that we
yielded. Mrs. Whiston, reluctant at first, no sooner made up her mind
that the thing must be done, than she furthered it with all her might.
After several attempts to introduce a bill, which were always cut off by
some “point of order,” she unhappily lost her usual patience.
I don't know that I can exactly explain how it happened, for what
the men call “parliamentary tactics” always made me fidgetty. But the
“previous question” turned up (as it always seemed to me to do, at the
wrong time), and cut her off before she had spoken ten words.
“Mr. Speaker!” she protested; “there is no question, previous to this,
which needs the consideration of the house! This is first in importance,
and demands your immediate--”
“Order! order!” came from all parts of the house.
“I am in order--the right is always in order!” she exclaimed, getting
more and more excited. “We women are not going to be contented with the
mere show of our rights on this floor; we demand the substance--”
And so she was going on, when there arose the most fearful tumult.
The upshot of it was, that the speaker ordered the sergeant-at-arms to
remove Mrs. Whiston; one of the members, more considerate, walked across
the floor to her, and tried to explain in what manner she was violating
the rules; and in another minute she sat down, so white, rigid and
silent that it made me shake in my shoes to look at her.
“I have made a great blunder,” she said to me, that evening; “and it may
set us back a little; but I shall recover my ground.” Which she did,
I assure you. She cultivated the acquaintance of the leaders of
both parties, studied their tactics, and quietly waited for a good
opportunity to bring in her bill. At first, we thought it would pass;
but one of the male members presently came out with a speech, which
dashed our hopes to nothing. He simply took the ground that there must
be absolute equality in citizenship; that every privilege was balanced
by a duty, every trust accompanied with its responsibility. He had no
objection to women possessing equal rights with men--but to give them
all civil rights and exempt them from the most important obligation
of service, would be, he said, to create a privileged class--a female
aristocracy. It was contrary to the spirit of our institutions. The
women had complained of taxation without representation; did they now
claim the latter without the former?
The people never look more than half-way into a subject, and so this
speech was immensely popular. I will not give Mrs. Whiston's admirable
reply; for Mr. Spelter informs me that you will not accept an article,
if it should make more than seventy or eighty printed pages. It is
enough that our bill was “killed,” as the men say (a brutal word); and
the women of the State laid the blame of the failure upon us. You may
imagine that we suffered under this injustice; but worse was to come.
As I said before, a great many things came up in the Legislature which I
did not understand--and, to be candid, did not care to understand. But
I was obliged to vote, nevertheless, and in this extremity I depended
pretty much on Mrs. Whiston's counsel. We could not well go to the
private nightly confabs of the members--indeed, they did not invite us;
and when it came to the issue of State bonds, bank charters, and such
like, I felt as if I were blundering along in the dark.
One day, I received, to my immense astonishment, a hundred and more
letters, all from the northern part of our county. I opened them, one
after the other, and--well, it is beyond my power to tell you what
varieties of indignation and abuse fell upon me. It seems that I had
voted against the bill to charter the Mendip Extension Railroad Co.
I had been obliged to vote for or against so many things, that it
was impossible to recollect them all. However, I procured the printed
journal, and, sure enough! there, among the nays, was “Strongitharm.”
It was not a week after that--and I was still suffering in mind and
body--when the newspapers in the interest of the Rancocus and Great
Western Consolidated accused me (not by name, but the same thing--you
know how they do it) of being guilty of taking bribes. Mr. Filch, of the
Shinnebaug Consolidated had explained to me so beautifully the superior
advantages of his line, that the Directors of the other company took
their revenge in this vile, abominable way.
That was only the beginning of my trouble. What with these slanders
and longing for the quiet of our dear old home at Burroak, I was
almost sick; yet the Legislature sat on, and sat on, until I was nearly
desperate. Then one morning came a despatch from my husband: “Melissa
is drafted--come home!” How I made the journey I can't tell; I was in an
agony of apprehension, and when Mr. Strongitharm and Melissa both met me
at the Burroak Station, well and smiling, I fell into a hysterical fit
of laughing and crying, for the first time in my life.
Billy Brandon, who was engaged to Melissa, came forward and took her
place like a man; he fought none the worse, let me tell you, because
he represented a woman, and (I may as well say it now) he came home a
Captain, without a left arm--but Melissa seems to have three arms for
his sake.
You have no idea what a confusion and lamentation there was all over the
State. A good many women were drafted, and those who could neither
get substitutes for love nor money, were marched to Gaston, where the
recruiting Colonel was considerate enough to give them a separate
camp. In a week, however, the word came from Washington that the Army
Regulations of the United States did not admit of their being received;
and they came home blessing Mr. Stanton. This was the end of drafting
women in our State.
Nevertheless, the excitement created by the draft did not subside at
once. It was seized upon by the Democratic leaders, as part of a plan
already concocted, which they then proceeded to set in operation. It
succeeded only too well, and I don't know when we shall ever see the end
of it.
We had more friends among the Republicans at the start, because all the
original Abolitionists in the State came into that party in 1860. Our
success had been so rapid and unforeseen that the Democrats continued
their opposition even after female suffrage was an accomplished fact;
but the leaders were shrewd enough to see that another such election
as the last would ruin their party in the State. So their trains were
quietly laid, and the match was not applied until all Atlantic was
ringing with the protestations of the unwilling conscripts and the
laments of their families. Then came, like three claps of thunder
in one, sympathy for the women, acquiescence in their rights, and
invitations to them, everywhere, to take part in the Democratic caucuses
and conventions. Most of the prominent women of the State were deluded
for a time by this manifestation, and acted with the party for the sake
of the sex.
I had no idea, however, what the practical result of this movement
would be, until, a few weeks before election, I was calling upon Mrs.
Buckwalter, and happened to express my belief that we Republicans were
going to carry the State again, by a large majority.
“I am very glad of it,” said she, with an expression of great relief,
“because then my vote will not be needed.”
“Why!” I exclaimed; “you won't decline to vote, surely?”
“Worse than that,” she answered, “I am afraid I shall have to vote with
the other side.”
Now as I knew her to be a good Republican, I could scarcely believe my
ears. She blushed, I must admit, when she saw my astonished face.
“I'm so used to Bridget, you know,” she continued, “and good girls are
so very hard to find, nowadays. She has as good as said that she won't
stay a day later than election, if I don't vote for HER candidate; and
what am I to do?”
“Do without!” I said shortly, getting up in my indignation.
“Yes, that's very well for you, with your wonderful PHYSIQUE,” said Mrs.
Buckwalter, quietly, “but think of me with my neuralgia, and the pain in
my back! It would be a dreadful blow, if I should lose Bridget.”
Well--what with torch-light processions, and meetings on both sides,
Burroak was in such a state of excitement when election came, that most
of the ladies of my acquaintance were almost afraid to go to the polls.
I tried to get them out during the first hours after sunrise, when I
went myself, but in vain. Even that early, I heard things that made
me shudder. Those who came later, went home resolved to give up their
rights rather than undergo a second experience of rowdyism. But it was
a jubilee for the servant girls. Mrs. Buckwalter didn't gain much by her
apostasy, for Bridget came home singing “The Wearing of the Green,” and
let fall a whole tray full of the best china before she could be got to
bed.
Burroak, which, the year before, had a Republican majority of three
hundred, now went for the Democrats by more than five hundred. The
same party carried the State, electing their Governor by near twenty
thousand. The Republicans would now have gladly repealed the bill giving
us equal rights, but they were in a minority, and the Democrats refused
to co-operate. Mrs. Whiston, who still remained loyal to our side,
collected information from all parts of the State, from which it
appeared that four-fifths of all the female citizens had voted the
Democratic ticket. In New Lisbon, our great manufacturing city, with
its population of nearly one hundred thousand, the party gained three
thousand votes, while the accessions to the Republican ranks were only
about four hundred.
Mrs. Whiston barely escaped being defeated; her majority was reduced
from seven hundred to forty-three. Eleven Democratic Assemblywomen and
four Senatoresses were chosen, however, so that she had the consolation
of knowing that her sex had gained, although her party had lost. She was
still in good spirits: “It will all right itself in time,” she said.
You will readily guess, after what I have related, that I was not only
not re-elected to the Legislature, but that I was not even a candidate.
I could have born the outrageous attacks of the opposite party; but the
treatment I had received from my own “constituents” (I shall always hate
the word) gave me a new revelation of the actual character of political
life. I have not mentioned half the worries and annoyances to which I
was subjected--the endless, endless letters and applications for office,
or for my influence in some way--the abuse and threats when I could
not possibly do what was desired--the exhibitions of selfishness and
disregard of all great and noble principles--and finally, the shameless
advances which were made by what men call “the lobby,” to secure my vote
for this, that, and the other thing.
Why, it fairly made my hair stand on end to hear the stories which the
pleasant men, whom I thought so grandly interested in schemes for
“the material development of the country,” told about each other. Mrs.
Filch's shawl began to burn my shoulders before I had worn it a half a
dozen times. (I have since given it to Melissa, as a wedding-present).
Before the next session was half over, I was doubly glad of being safe
at home. Mrs. Whiston supposed that the increased female representation
would give her more support, and indeed it seemed so, at first. But
after her speech on the Bounty bill, only two of the fifteen Democratic
women would even speak to her, and all hope of concord of action in
the interests of women was at an end. We read the debates, and my blood
fairly boiled when I found what taunts and sneers, and epithets she was
forced to endure. I wondered how she could sit still under them.
To make her position worse, the adjoining seat was occupied by an
Irishwoman, who had been elected by the votes of the laborers on the
new Albemarle Extension, in the neighborhood of which she kept a grocery
store. Nelly Kirkpatrick was a great, red-haired giant of a woman, very
illiterate, but with some native wit, and good-hearted enough, I am
told, when she was in her right mind. She always followed the lead of
Mr. Gorham (whose name, you see, came before hers in the call), and
a look from him was generally sufficient to quiet her when she was
inclined to be noisy.
When the resolutions declaring the war a failure were introduced, the
party excitement ran higher than ever. The “lunch-room” (as they called
it--I never went there but once, the title having deceived me) in the
basement-story of the State House was crowded during the discussion, and
every time Nelly Kirkpatrick came up, her face was a shade deeper red.
Mr. Gorham's nods and winks were of no avail--speak she would, and speak
she did, not so very incoherently, after all, but very abusively. To
be sure, you would never have guessed it, if you had read the quiet and
dignified report in the papers on her side, the next day.
THEN Mrs. Whiston's patience broke down. “Mr. Speaker,” she exclaimed,
starting to her feet, “I protest against this House being compelled
to listen to such a tirade as has just been delivered. Are we to be
disgraced before the world--”
“Oh, hoo! Disgraced, is it?” yelled Nelly Kirkpatrick, violently
interrupting her, “and me as dacent a woman as ever she was, or ever
will be! Disgraced, hey? Oh, I'll larn her what it is to blaggard her
betters!”
And before anybody could imagine what was coming, she pounced upon Mrs.
Whiston, with one jerk ripped off her skirt (it was silk, not serge,
this time), seized her by the hair, and gave her head such a twist
backwards, that the chignon not only came off in her hands, but as her
victim opened her mouth too widely in the struggle, the springs of her
false teeth were sprung the wrong way, and the entire set flew out and
rattled upon the floor.
Of course there were cries of “Order! Order!” and the nearest
members--Mr. Gorham among the first--rushed in; but the mischief was
done. Mrs. Whiston had always urged upon our minds the necessity of
not only being dressed according to the popular fashion, but also as
elegantly and becomingly as possible. “If we adopt the Bloomers,” she
said, “we shall never get our rights, while the world stands. Where it
is necessary to influence men, we must be wholly and truly WOMEN, not
semi-sexed nondescripts; we must employ every charm Nature gives us and
Fashion adds, not hide them under a forked extinguisher!” I give her
very words to show you her way of looking at things. Well, now imagine
this elegant woman, looking not a day over forty, though she was--but
no, I have no right to tell it,--imagine her, I say, with only her
scanty natural hair hanging over her ears, her mouth dreadfully fallen
in, her skirt torn off, all in open day, before the eyes of a hundred
and fifty members (and I am told they laughed immensely, in spite of the
scandal that it was), and, if you are human beings, you will feel that
she must have been wounded to the very heart.
There was a motion made to expel Nelly Kirkpatrick, and perhaps it
might have succeeded--but the railroad hands, all over the State, made a
heroine of her, and her party was afraid of losing five or six thousand
votes; so only a mild censure was pronounced. But there was no end
to the caricatures, and songs, and all sorts of ribaldry, about the
occurrence; and even our party said that, although Mrs. Whiston was
really and truly a martyr, yet the circumstance was an immense damage
to THEM. When she heard THAT, I believe it killed her. She resigned her
seat, went home, never appeared again in public, and died within a year.
“My dear friend,” she wrote to me, not a month before her death, “I have
been trying all my life to get a thorough knowledge of the masculine
nature, but my woman's plummet will not reach to the bottom of that
chaotic pit of selfishness and principle, expedience and firmness
for the right, brutality and tenderness, gullibility and devilish
shrewdness, which I have tried to sound. Only one thing is clear--we
women cannot do without what we have sometimes, alas! sneered at as THE
CHIVELRY OF THE SEX. The question of our rights is as clear to me as
ever; but we must find a plan to get them without being forced to share,
or even to SEE, all that men do in their political lives. We have
only beheld some Principle riding aloft, not the mud through which her
chariot wheels are dragged. The ways must be swept before we can walk in
them--but how and by whom shall this be done?”
For my part, _I_ can't say, and I wish somebody would tell me.
Well--after seeing our State, which we used to be proud of, delivered
over for two years to the control of a party whose policy was so
repugnant to all our feelings of loyalty, we endeavored to procure, at
least a qualification of intelligence for voters. Of course, we didn't
get it: the exclusion from suffrage of all who were unable to read and
write might have turned the scales again, and given us the State. After
our boys came back from the war, we might have succeeded--but their
votes were over-balanced by those of the servant-girls, every one of
whom turned out, making a whole holiday of the election.
I thought, last fall, that my Maria, who is German, would have voted
with us. I stayed at home and did the work myself, on purpose that she
might hear the oration of Carl Schurz; but old Hammer, who keeps the
lager-beer saloon in the upper end of Burroak, gave a supper and a
dance to all the German girls and their beaux, after the meeting, and
so managed to secure nine out of ten of their votes for Seymour. Maria
proposed going away a week before election, up into Decatur County,
where, she said, some relations, just arrived from Bavaria, had settled.
I was obliged to let her go, or lose her altogether, but I was comforted
by the thought that if her vote were lost for Grant, at least it could
not be given to Seymour. After the election was over, and Decatur
County, which we had always managed to carry hitherto, went against
us, the whole matter was explained. About five hundred girls, we were
informed, had been COLONIZED in private families, as extra help, for a
fortnight, and of course Maria was one of them. (I have looked at
the addresses of her letters, ever since, and not one has she sent
to Decatur). A committee has been appointed, and a report made on the
election frauds in our State, and we shall see, I suppose, whether any
help comes of it.
Now, you mustn't think, from all this, that I am an apostate from the
principle of Women's Rights. No, indeed! All the trouble we have had,
as I think will be evident to the millions who read my words, comes from
THE MEN. They have not only made politics their monopoly, but they have
fashioned it into a tremendous, elaborate system, in which there is
precious little of either principle or honesty. We can and we MUST “run
the machine” (to use another of their vulgar expressions) with them,
until we get a chance to knock off the useless wheels and thingumbobs,
and scour the whole concern, inside and out. Perhaps the men themselves
would like to do this, if they only knew how: men have so little talent
for cleaning-up. But when it comes to making a litter, they're at home,
let me tell you!
Meanwhile, in our State, things are about as bad as they can be.
The women are drawn for juries, the same as ever, but (except in
Whittletown, where they have a separate room,) no respectable woman
goes, and the fines come heavy on some of us. The demoralization among
our help is so bad, that we are going to try Co-operative Housekeeping.
If that don't succeed, I shall get brother Samuel, who lives in
California, to send me two Chinamen, one for cook and chamber-boy, and
one as nurse for Melissa. I console myself with thinking that the end of
it all must be good, since the principle is right: but, dear me! I had
no idea that I should be called upon to go through such tribulation.
Now the reason I write--and I suppose I must hurry to the end, or you
will be out of all patience--is to beg, and insist, and implore my
sisters in other States to lose no more time, but at once to coax, or
melt, or threaten the men into accepting their claims. We are now so
isolated in our rights that we are obliged to bear more than our proper
share of the burden. When the States around us shall be so far advanced,
there will be a chance for new stateswomen to spring up, and fill Mrs.
Whiston's place, and we shall then, I firmly believe, devise a plan to
cleanse the great Augean stable of politics by turning into it the river
of female honesty and intelligence and morality. But they must do this,
somehow or other, without letting the river be tainted by the heaps of
pestilent offal it must sweep away. As Lord Bacon says (in that play
falsely attributed to Shakespeare)--“Ay, there's the rub!”
If you were to ask me, NOW, what effect the right of suffrage, office,
and all the duties of men has had upon the morals of the women of our
State, I should be puzzled what to say. It is something like this--if
you put a chemical purifying agent into a bucket of muddy water, the
water gets clearer, to be sure, but the chemical substance takes up some
of the impurity. Perhaps that's rather too strong a comparison; but if
you say that men are worse than women, as most people do, then of course
we improve them by closer political intercourse, and lose a little
ourselves in the process. I leave you to decide the relative loss and
gain. To tell you the truth, this is a feature of the question which
I would rather not discuss; and I see, by the reports of the recent
Conventions, that all the champions of our sex feel the same way.
Well, since I must come to an end somewhere, let it be here. To quote
Lord Bacon again, take my “round, unvarnished tale,” and perhaps the
world will yet acknowledge that some good has been done by
Yours truly,