Читать книгу History of Woman Suffrage, Volume I - Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton - Страница 13

Extract from a Pastoral Letter of "the General Association of Massachusetts (Orthodox) to the Churches under their care"—1837:

III. We invite your attention to the dangers which at present seem to threaten the female character with wide-spread and permanent injury.

The appropriate duties and influence of woman are clearly stated in the New Testament. Those duties and that influence are unobtrusive and private, but the source of mighty power. When the mild, dependent, softening influence of woman upon the sternness of man's opinions is fully exercised, society feels the effects of it in a thousand forms. The power of woman is her dependence, flowing from the consciousness of that weakness which God has given her for her protection, (!) and which keeps her in those departments of life that form the character of individuals, and of the nation. There are social influences which females use in promoting piety and the great objects of Christian benevolence which we can not too highly commend.

We appreciate the unostentatious prayers and efforts of woman in advancing the cause of religion at home and abroad; in Sabbath-schools; in leading religious inquirers to the pastors (!) for instruction; and in all such associated effort as becomes the modesty of her sex; and earnestly hope that she may abound more and more in these labors of piety and love. But when she assumes the place and tone of man as a public reformer, our care and protection of her seem unnecessary; we put ourselves in self-defence (!) against her; she yields the power which God has given her for her protection, and her character becomes unnatural. If the vine, whose strength and beauty is to lean upon the trellis-work, and half conceal its clusters, thinks to assume the independence and the overshadowing nature of the elm, it will not only cease to bear fruit, but fall in shame and dishonor into the dust. We can not, therefore, but regret the mistaken conduct of those who encourage females to bear an obtrusive and ostentatious part in measures of reform, and countenance any of that sex who so far forget themselves as to itinerate in the character of public lecturers and teachers. We especially deplore the intimate acquaintance and promiscuous conversation of females with regard to things which ought not to be named; by which that modesty and delicacy which is the charm of domestic life, and which constitutes the true influence of woman in society, is consumed, and the way opened, as we apprehend, for degeneracy and ruin.

We say these things not to discourage proper influences against sin, but to secure such reformation (!) as we believe is Scriptural, and will be permanent.

William Lloyd Garrison, in a cordial letter, accompanying the above extract, which he had copied for us with his own hand from the files of The Liberator, said: "This 'Clerical Bull' was fulminated with special reference to those two noble South Carolina women, Sarah M. and Angelina E. Grimke, who were at that time publicly pleading for those in bonds as bound with them, while on a visit to Massachusetts. It was written by the Rev. Dr. Nehemiah Adams, of Boston, author of 'A South-side View of Slavery.'"

Maria Weston Chapman's amusing answer in rhyme, shows that the days for ecclesiastical bulls were fast passing away, when women, even, could thus make light of them.

Mrs. CHAPMAN'S POEM.

"THE TIMES THAT TRY MEN'S SOULS."

Confusion has seized us, and all things go wrong,

The women have leaped from "their spheres,"

And, instead of fixed stars, shoot as comets along,

And are setting the world by the ears!

In courses erratic they're wheeling through space,

In brainless confusion and meaningless chase.

In vain do our knowing ones try to compute

Their return to the orbit designed;

They're glanced at a moment, then onward they shoot,

And are neither "to hold nor to bind;"

So freely they move in their chosen ellipse,

The "Lords of Creation" do fear an eclipse.

They've taken a notion to speak for themselves,

And are wielding the tongue and the pen;

They've mounted the rostrum; the termagant elves,

And—oh horrid!—are talking to men!

With faces unblanched in our presence they come

To harangue us, they say, in behalf of the dumb.

They insist on their right to petition and pray,

That St. Paul, in Corinthians, has given them rules

For appearing in public; despite what those say

Whom we've trained to instruct them in schools;

But vain such instructions, if women may scan

And quote texts of Scripture to favor their plan.

Our grandmothers' learning consisted of yore

In spreading their generous boards;

In twisting the distaff, or mopping the floor,

And obeying the will of their lords.

Now, misses may reason, and think, and debate,

Till unquestioned submission is quite out of date.

Our clergy have preached on the sin and the shame

Of woman, when out of "her sphere,"

And labored divinely to ruin her fame,

And shorten this horrid career;

But for spiritual guidance no longer they look

To Fulsom, or Winslow, or learned Parson Cook.

Our wise men have tried to exorcise in vain

The turbulent spirits abroad;

As well might we deal with the fetterless main,

Or conquer ethereal essence with sword;

Like the devils of Milton, they rise from each blow,

With spirit unbroken, insulting the foe.

Our patriot fathers, of eloquent fame,

Waged war against tangible forms;

Aye, their foes were men—and if ours were the same,

We might speedily quiet their storms;

But, ah! their descendants enjoy not such bliss—

The assumptions of Britain were nothing to this.

Could we but array all our force in the field,

We'd teach these usurpers of power

That their bodily safety demands they should yield,

And in the presence of manhood should cower;

But, alas! for our tethered and impotent state,

Chained by notions of knighthood—we can but debate.

Oh! shade of the prophet Mahomet, arise!

Place woman again in "her sphere,"

And teach that her soul was not born for the skies,

But to flutter a brief moment here.

This doctrine of Jesus, as preached up by Paul,

If embraced in its spirit, will ruin us all.

—Lords of Creation.

On reading the "Pastoral Letter," our Quaker poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, poured out his indignation on the New England clergy in thrilling denunciations. Mr. Whittier early saw that woman's only protection against religious and social tyranny, could be found in political equality. In the midst of the fierce conflicts in the Anti-Slavery Conventions of 1839 and '40, on the woman question per se, Mr. Whittier remarked to Lucretia Mott, "Give woman the right to vote, and you end all these persecutions by reform and church organizations."

THE PASTORAL LETTER.

So, this is all—the utmost reach

Of priestly power the mind to fetter!

When laymen think—when women preach—

A war of words—a "Pastoral Letter!"

Now, shame upon ye, parish Popes!

Was it thus with those, your predecessors,

Who sealed with racks, and fire, and ropes

Their loving-kindness to transgressors?

A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull—

Alas! in hoof and horns and features,

How different is your Brookfield bull,

From him who bellows from St. Peter's!

Your pastoral rights and powers from harm,

Think ye, can words alone preserve them?

Your wiser fathers taught the arm

And sword of temporal power to serve them.

Oh, glorious days—when Church and State

Were wedded by your spiritual fathers!

And on submissive shoulders sat

Yours Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers.

No vile "itinerant" then could mar

The beauty of your tranquil Zion,

But at his peril of the scar

Of hangman's whip and branding-iron.

Then, wholesome laws relieved the Church

Of heretic and mischief-maker.

And priest and bailiff joined in search,

By turns, of Papist, witch, and Quaker!

The stocks were at each church's door,

The gallows stood on Boston Common,

A Papist's ears the pillory bore—

The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman!

Your fathers dealt not as ye deal

With "non-professing" frantic teachers;

They bored the tongue with red-hot steel,

And flayed the backs of "female preachers."

Old Newbury, had her fields a tongue,

And Salem's streets could tell their story,

Of fainting woman dragged along,

Gashed by the whip, accursed and gory!

And will ye ask me, why this taunt

Of memories sacred from the scorner?

And why with reckless hand I plant

A nettle on the graves ye honor?

Not to reproach New England's dead

This record from the past I summon,

Of manhood to the scaffold led,

And suffering and heroic woman.

No—for yourselves alone, I turn

The pages of intolerance over,

That, in their spirit, dark and stern,

Ye haply may your own discover!

For, if ye claim the "pastoral right,"

To silence freedom's voice of warning,

And from your precincts shut the light

Of Freedom's day around ye dawning;

If when an earthquake voice of power,

And signs in earth and heaven, are showing

That forth, in the appointed hour,

The Spirit of the Lord is going!

And, with that Spirit, Freedom's light

On kindred, tongue, and people breaking,

Whose slumbering millions, at the sight,

In glory and in strength are waking!

When for the sighing of the poor,

And for the needy, God hath risen,

And chains are breaking, and a door

Is opening for the souls in prison!

If then ye would, with puny hands,

Arrest the very work of Heaven,

And bind anew the evil bands

Which God's right arm of power hath riven,—

What marvel that, in many a mind,

Those darker deeds of bigot madness

Are closely with your own combined,

Yet "less in anger than in sadness"?

What marvel, if the people learn

To claim the right of free opinion?

What marvel, if at times they spurn

The ancient yoke of your dominion?

A glorious remnant linger yet,

Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains,

The coming of whose welcome feet

Is beautiful upon our mountains!

Men, who the gospel tidings bring

Of Liberty and Love forever,

Whose joy is an abiding spring,

Whose peace is as a gentle river!

But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale

Of Carolina's high-souled daughters,

Which echoes here the mournful wail

Of sorrow from Edisto's waters,

Close while ye may the public ear—

With malice vex, with slander wound them—

The pure and good shall throng to hear,

And tried and manly hearts surround them.

Oh, ever may the power which led

Their way to such a fiery trial,

And strengthened womanhood to tread

The wine-press of such self-denial,

Be round them in an evil land,

With wisdom and with strength from Heaven,

With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand,

And Deborah's song, for triumph given!

And what are ye who strive with God

Against the ark of His salvation,

Moved by the breath of prayer abroad,

With blessings for a dying nation?

What, but the stubble and the hay

To perish, even as flax consuming,

With all that bars His glorious way,

Before the brightness of His coming?

And thou, sad Angel, who so long

Hast waited for the glorious token,

That Earth from all her bonds of wrong

To liberty and light has broken—

Angel of Freedom! soon to thee

The sounding trumpet shall be given,

And over Earth's full jubilee

Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven!

In answer to the many objections made, by gentlemen present, to granting to woman the right of suffrage, Frederick Douglass replied in a long, argumentative, and eloquent appeal, for the complete equality of woman in all the rights that belong to any human soul. He thought the true basis of rights was the capacity of individuals; and as for himself, he should not dare claim a right that he would not concede to woman.

This Convention continued through three sessions, and was crowded with an attentive audience to the hour of adjournment. The daily papers made fair reports, and varied editorial comments, which, being widely copied, called out spicy controversies in different parts of the country. The resolutions and discussions regarding woman's right to enter the professions, encouraged many to prepare themselves for medicine and the ministry. Though few women responded to the demand for political rights, many at once saw the importance of equality in the world of work.

The Seneca Falls Declaration was adopted, and signed by large numbers of influential men and women of Rochester and vicinity, and at a late hour the Convention adjourned, in the language of its President, "with hearts overflowing with gratitude."