Читать книгу The History of Woman Suffrage - Various - Страница 53

Table of Contents

William Penn—Independence Hall—British troops—Heroism of women—Lydia Darrah—Who designed the Flag—Anti-slavery movements in Philadelphia—Pennsylvania Hall destroyed by a mob—David Paul Brown—Fugitives—Millard Fillmore—John Brown—Angelina Grimké—Abby Kelly—Mary Grew—Temperance in 1848—Hannah Darlington and Ann Preston before the Legislature—Medical College for Women in 1850—Westchester Woman Rights Convention, 1852—Philadelphia Convention, 1854—Lucretia Mott answers Richard H. Dana—Jane Grey Swisshelm—Sarah Josepha Hale—Anna McDowell—Rachel Foster searching the records.

In 1680, Charles II., King of England, granted to William Penn a tract of land in consideration of the claims of his father, Admiral Penn, which he named Pennsylvania. The charter for this land is still in existence at Harrisburg, among the archives of the State. The principal condition of the bargain with the Indians was the payment of two beaver skins annually. This was the purchase money for the great State of Pennsylvania.

Penn landed at New Castle October 27, 1682, and in November visited the infant city of Philadelphia, where so many of the eventful scenes of the Revolution transpired. Penn had been already imprisoned in England several times for his Quaker principles, which had so beneficent an influence in his dealings with the Indians, and on the moral character of the religious sect he founded in the colonies.

While yet a student he was expelled from Christ Church, Oxford, because he was converted to Quakerism under the preaching of Thomas Loe. He was imprisoned in Cork for attending a Quaker meeting, and in the Tower of London in 1668 for writing "The Sandy Foundation Shaken," and while there he wrote his great work, "No Cross, No Crown." In 1671, he was again imprisoned for preaching Quakerism, and as he would take no oath on his trial, he was thrown into Newgate, and while there he wrote his other great work on "Toleration."

In 1729 the foundations of Independence Hall, the old State House, were laid, and the building was completed in 1734. Here the first Continental Congress was held in September, 1774; a Provincial Convention in January, 1775; the Declaration of Independence proclaimed July 4, 1776, and on the 8th, read to thousands assembled in front of the building. These great events have made Philadelphia the birthplace of freedom, the Mecca of this western world, where the lovers of liberty go up to worship; and made the Keystone State so rich in memories, the brightest star in the republican constellation, where in 1776 freedom was proclaimed, and in 1780 slavery was abolished.

Philadelphia remained the seat of Government until 1800. The British troops occupied the city from September 26, 1777, to June 18, 1778. During this period we find many interesting incidents in regard to the heroism of women. In every way they aided the struggling army, not only in providing food and clothes, ministering to the sick in camp and hospitals, but on active duty as messengers and spies under most difficult and dangerous circumstances. The brave deeds and severe privations the women of this nation endured with cheerfulness would fill volumes, yet no monuments are built to their memory, and only by the right of petition have they as yet the slightest recognition in the Government. A few instances that occurred at Philadelphia will illustrate the patriotism of American women.59

While the American army remained encamped at White Marsh, the British being in possession of Philadelphia, Gen. Howe made some vain attempts to draw Washington into an engagement. The house opposite the headquarters of Gen. Howe, tenanted by William and Lydia Darrah, members of the Society of Friends, was the place selected by the superior officers of the army for private conference, whenever it was necessary to hold consultations.

On the afternoon of the 2d of December, the British Adjutant-General called and informed the mistress that he and some friends were to meet there that evening, and desired that the back room up-stairs might be prepared for their reception. "And be sure, Lydia," he concluded, "that your family are all in bed at an early hour. When our guests are ready to leave the house, I will myself give you notice, that you may let us out and extinguish the candles."

Having delivered this order, the Adjutant-General departed. Lydia betook herself to getting all things in readiness. But she felt curious to know what the business could be that required such secrecy, and resolved on further investigation. Accordingly, in the midst of their conference that night, she quietly approached the door, and listening, heard a plan for the surprise of Washington's forces arranged for the next night. She retreated softly to her room and laid down; soon there was a knocking at her door. She knew well what the signal meant, but took no heed until it was repeated again and again, and then she arose quickly and opened the door. It was the Adjutant-General who came to inform her they were ready to depart. Lydia let them out, fastened the door, extinguished the fire and lights, and returned to her chamber, but she was uneasy, thinking of the threatened danger.

At the dawn of day she arose, telling her family that she must go to Frankfort to procure some flour. She mounted her horse, and taking the bag, started. The snow was deep and the cold intense, but Lydia's heart did not falter. Leaving the grist at the mill, she started on foot for the camp, determined to apprise Gen. Washington of his danger. On the way she met one of his officers, who exclaimed in astonishment at seeing her, but making her errand known, she hastened home.

Preparations were immediately made to give the enemy a fitting reception. None suspected the grave, demure Quakeress of having snatched from the English their anticipated victory; but after the return of the British troops Gen. Howe summoned Lydia to his apartment, locked the door with an air of mystery, and motioned her to a seat. After a moment of silence, he said: "Were any of your family up, Lydia, on the night when I received my company here?" "No," she replied, "they all retired at eight o'clock." "It is very strange," said the officer, and mused a few minutes. "I know you were asleep, for I knocked at your door three times before you heard me; yet it is certain that we were betrayed."

Afterward some one asked Lydia how she could say her family were all in bed while she herself was up; she replied, "Husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband, and my husband was in bed." Thus the wit and wisdom of this Quaker woman saved the American forces at an important crisis, and perhaps turned the fate of the Revolutionary War.

During that dreadful winter, 1780, at Valley Forge, the ladies of Philadelphia combined to furnish clothing for the army. Money and jewels were contributed in profusion. Those who could not give money, gave their services freely. Not less than $7,500 were contributed to an association for this purpose, of which Esther De Berdt Reed was president. Though an English woman, the French Secretary said of her: "She is called to this office as the best patriot, the most zealous and active, and the most attached to the interests of the country."

The archives of the Keystone State prove that she can boast many noble women from the time of that great struggle for the nation's existence, the signal for which was given when the brave old bell rang out from Independence Hall its message of freedom. The very colors then unfurled, and for the first time named the flag of the United States, were the handiwork, and in part the invention of a woman. That to the taste and suggestions of Mrs. Elizabeth Ross, of Philadelphia, we owe the beauty of the Union's flag can not be denied. There are those who would deprive her of all credit in this connection, and assert that the committee appointed to prepare a flag gave her the perfected design; but the evidence is in favor of her having had a large share in the change from the original design to the flag as it now is; the same flag which we have held as a nation since the memorable year of the Declaration of Independence, the flag which now floats on every sea, whose stars and stripes carry hope to all the oppressed nations of the earth; though to woman it is but an ignis fatuus, an ever waving signal of the ingratitude of the republic to one-half its citizens.

An anecdote of a female spy is related in the journal of Major Tallmadge. While the Americans were at Valley Forge he was stationed in the vicinity of Philadelphia with a detachment of cavalry to observe the enemy and limit the range of British foraging parties. His duties required the utmost vigilance, his squad seldom remained all night in the same position, and their horses were rarely unsaddled. Hearing that a country girl had gone into the city with eggs; having been sent by one of the American officers to gain information; Tallmadge advanced toward the British lines, and dismounted at a small tavern within view of their outposts. The girl came to the tavern, but while she was communicating her intelligence to the Major, the alarm was given that the British light-horse were approaching. Tallmadge instantly mounted, and as the girl entreated protection, bade her get up behind him. They rode three miles at full speed to Germantown, the damsel showing no fear, though there was some wheeling and charging, and a brisk firing of pistols.

Tradition tells of some women in Philadelphia, whose husbands used to send intelligence from the American army through a market-boy, who came into the city to bring provisions, and carried the dispatches sent in the back of his coat. One morning, when there was some fear that his movements were watched, a young girl undertook to get the papers. In a pretended game of romps, she threw her shawl over his head, and secured the prize. She hastened with the papers to her friends, who read them with deep interest, after the windows were carefully closed. When news came of Burgoyne's surrender, the sprightly girl, not daring to give vent openly to her exultation, put her head up the chimney and hurrahed for Gates.

And not only in the exciting days of the Revolution do we find abundant records of woman's courage and patriotism, but in all the great moral movements that have convulsed the nation, she has taken an active and helpful part. The soil of Pennsylvania is classic with the startling events of the anti-slavery struggle. In the first Anti-Slavery Society, of which Benjamin Franklin was president, women took part, not only as members, but as officers. The name of Lydia Gillingham stands side by side with Jacob M. Ellis as associate secretaries, signing reports of the "Association for the Abolition of Slavery."

The important part women took in the later movement, inaugurated by William Lloyd Garrison, has already passed into history. The interest in this question was intensified in this State, as it was the scene of the continued recapture of fugitives. The heroism of the women, who helped to fight this great battle of freedom, was only surpassed by those who, taking their lives in their hands, escaped from the land of slavery. The same love of liberty that glowed in eloquent words on the lips of Lucretia Mott, Angelina Grimké, and Mary Grew, was echoed in the brave deeds of Margaret Garner, Linda Brent, and Mrs. Stowe's Eliza.

On December 4, 1833, the Abolitionists assembled in Philadelphia to hold a national convention, and to form the American Anti-Slavery Society. During all the sessions of three days, women were constant and attentive listeners. Lucretia Mott, Esther More, Sidney Ann Lewis, and Lydia White, took part in the discussions.

The following resolution, passed at the close of the third day, without dissent, or a word to qualify or limit its application, shows that no one then thought it improper for women to speak in public:

Resolved, That the thanks of the Convention be presented to our female friends for the deep interest they have manifested in the cause of anti-slavery, during the long and fatiguing sessions of this Convention.

Samuel J. May, in writing of this occasion many years after, says: "It is one of the proudest recollections of my life that I was a member of the Convention in Philadelphia, in December, 1833, that formed the American Anti-Slavery Society. And I well remember the auspicious sequel to it, the formation of the Philadelphia Female Anti-Slavery Society. Nor shall I ever forget the wise, the impressive, the animating words spoken in our Convention by dear Lucretia Mott and two or three other excellent women who came to that meeting by divine appointment. But with this last recollection will be forever associated the mortifying fact, that we men were then so blind, so obtuse, that we did not recognize those women as members of our Convention, and insist upon their subscribing their names to our 'Declaration of Sentiments and Purposes.'"