Eighty Years and More; Reminiscences 1815-1897
Francisco to New York. Though a long trip to make without a break, yet I
enjoyed every moment, as I found most charming companions in Bishop
Janes and his daughter. The Bishop being very liberal in his ideas, we
discussed the various theologies, and all phases of the woman question.
I shall never forget those pleasant conversations as we sat outside on
the platform, day after day, and in the soft moonlight late at night. We
took up the thread of our debate each morning where we had dropped it
the night before. The Bishop told me about the resolution to take the
word "obey" from the marriage ceremony which he introduced, two years
before, into the Methodist General Conference and carried with but
little opposition. All praise to the Methodist Church! When our girls
are educated into a proper self-respect and laudable pride of sex, they
will scout all these old barbarisms of the past that point in any way to
the subject condition of women in either the State, the Church, or the
home. Until the other sects follow her example, I hope our girls will
insist on having their conjugal knots all tied by Methodist bishops.
The Episcopal marriage service not only still clings to the word "obey,"
but it has a most humiliating ceremony in giving the bride away. I was
never more struck with its odious and ludicrous features than on once
seeing a tall, queenly-looking woman, magnificently arrayed, married by
one of the tiniest priests that ever donned a surplice and gown, given
away by the smallest guardian that ever watched a woman's fortunes, to
the feeblest, bluest-looking little groom that ever placed a wedding
ring on bridal finger. Seeing these Lilliputians around her, I thought,
when the little priest said, "Who gives this woman to this man," that
she would take the responsibility and say, "I do," but no! there she
stood, calm, serene, as if it were no affair of hers, while the little
guardian, placing her hand in that of the little groom, said, "I do."
Thus was this stately woman bandied about by these three puny men, all
of whom she might have gathered up in her arms and borne off to their
respective places of abode.
But women are gradually waking up to the degradation of these
ceremonies. Not long since, at a wedding in high life, a beautiful girl
of eighteen was struck dumb at the word "obey." Three times the priest
pronounced it with emphasis and holy unction, each time slower, louder,
than before. Though the magnificent parlors were crowded, a breathless
silence reigned. Father, mother, and groom were in agony. The bride,
with downcast eyes, stood speechless. At length the priest slowly closed
his book and said, "The ceremony is at an end." One imploring word from
the groom, and a faint "obey" was heard in the solemn stillness. The
priest unclasped his book and the knot was tied. The congratulations,
feast, and all, went on as though there had been no break in the
proceedings, but the lesson was remembered, and many a rebel made by
that short pause.
I think all these reverend gentlemen who insist on the word "obey" in
the marriage service should be removed for a clear violation of the
Thirteenth Amendment to the Federal Constitution, which says there shall
be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude within the United States.
As I gave these experiences to Bishop Janes he laughed heartily, and
asked me to repeat them to each newcomer. Our little debating society
was the center of attraction. One gentleman asked me if our woman
suffrage conventions were as entertaining. I told him yes; that there
were no meetings in Washington so interesting and so well attended as
ours.
As I had some woman-suffrage literature in my valise, I distributed
leaflets to all earnest souls who plied me with questions. Like all
other things, it requires great discretion in sowing leaflets, lest you
expose yourself to a rebuff. I never offer one to a man with a small
head and high heels on his boots, with his chin in the air, because I
know, in the nature of things, that he will be jealous of superior
women; nor to a woman whose mouth has the "prunes and prisms"
expression, for I know she will say, "I have all the rights I want."
Going up to London one day, a few years later, I noticed a saintly
sister, belonging to the Salvation Army, timidly offering some leaflets
to several persons on board; all coolly declined to receive them. Having
had much experience in the joys and sorrows of propagandism, I put out
my hand and asked her to give them to me. I thanked her and read them
before reaching London. It did me no harm and her much good in thinking
that she might have planted a new idea in my mind. Whatever is given to
us freely, I think, in common politeness, we should accept graciously.
While I was enjoying once more the comforts of home, on the blue hills
of Jersey, Miss Anthony was lighting the fires of liberty on the
mountain tops of Oregon and Washington Territory. All through the months
of October, November, and December, 1871, she was jolting about in
stages, over rough roads, speaking in every hamlet where a schoolhouse
was to be found, and scattering our breezy leaflets to the four winds of
heaven.
From 1869 to 1873 Miss Anthony and I made several trips through Iowa,
Missouri, Illinois, and Nebraska, holding meetings at most of the chief
towns; I speaking in the afternoons to women alone on "Marriage and
Maternity." As Miss Anthony had other pressing engagements in Kansas and
Nebraska, I went alone to Texas, speaking in Dallas, Sherman, and
Houston, where I was delayed two weeks by floods and thus prevented
from going to Austin, Galveston, and some points in Louisiana, where I
was advertised to lecture. In fact I lost all my appointments for a
month. However, there was a fine hotel in Houston and many pleasant
people, among whom I made some valuable acquaintances. Beside several
public meetings, I had parlor talks and scattered leaflets, so that my
time was not lost.
As the floods had upset my plans for the winter, I went straight from
Houston to New York over the Iron Mountain Railroad. I anticipated a
rather solitary trip; but, fortunately, I met General Baird, whom I
knew, and some other army officers, who had been down on the Mexican
border to settle some troubles in the "free zone." We amused ourselves
on the long journey with whist and woman suffrage discussions. We
noticed a dyspeptic-looking clergyman, evidently of a bilious
temperament, eying us very steadily and disapprovingly the first day,
and in a quiet way we warned each other that, in due time, he would give
us a sermon on the sin of card playing.
Sitting alone, early next morning, he seated himself by my side, and
asked me if I would allow him to express his opinion on card playing. I
said "Oh, yes! I fully believe in free speech." "Well," said he, "I
never touch cards. I think they are an invention of the devil to lead
unwary souls from all serious thought of the stern duties of life and
the realities of eternity! I was sorry to see you, with your white hair,
probably near the end of your earthly career, playing cards and talking
with those reckless army officers, who delight in killing their
fellow-beings. No! I do not believe in war or card playing; such things
do not prepare the soul for heaven." "Well," said I, "you are quite
right, with your views, to abjure the society of army officers and all
games of cards. You, no doubt, enjoy your own thoughts and the book you
are reading, more than you would the conversation of those gentlemen and
a game of whist. We must regulate our conduct by our own highest ideal.
While I deplore the necessity of war, yet I know in our Army many of the
noblest types of manhood, whose acquaintance I prize most highly. I
enjoy all games, too, from chess down to dominoes. There is so much that
is sad and stern in life that we need sometimes to lay down its burdens
and indulge in innocent amusements. Thus, you see, what is wise from my
standpoint is unwise from yours. I am sorry that you repudiate all
amusements, as they contribute to the health of body and soul. You are
sorry that I do not think as you do and regulate my life accordingly.
You are sure that you are right. I am equally sure that I am. Hence
there is nothing to be done in either case but to let each other alone,
and wait for the slow process of evolution to give to each of us a
higher standard." Just then one of the officers asked me if I was ready
for a game of whist, and I excused myself from further discussion. I met
many of those dolorous saints in my travels, who spent so much thought
on eternity and saving their souls that they lost all the joys of time,
as well as those sweet virtues of courtesy and charity that might best
fit them for good works on earth and happiness in heaven.
In the spring I went to Nebraska, and Miss Anthony and I again made a
Western tour, sometimes together and sometimes by different routes. A
constitutional convention was in session in Lincoln, and it was
proposed to submit an amendment to strike the word "male" from the
Constitution. Nebraska became a State in March, 1867, and took "Equality
before the law" as her motto. Her Territorial legislature had discussed,
many times, proposed liberal legislation for women, and her State
legislature had twice considered propositions for woman's
enfranchisement. I had a valise with me containing Hon. Benjamin F.
Butler's minority reports as a member of the Judiciary Committee of the
United States House of Representatives, in favor of woman's right to
vote under the Fourteenth Amendment. As we were crossing the Platte
River, in transferring the baggage to the boat, my valise fell into the
river. My heart stood still at the thought of such a fate for all those
able arguments. After the great General had been in hot water all his
life, it was grievous to think of any of his lucubrations perishing in
cold water at last. Fortunately they were rescued. On reaching Lincoln I
was escorted to the home of the Governor, where I spread the documents
in the sunshine, and they were soon ready to be distributed among the
members of the constitutional convention.
After I had addressed the convention, some of the members called on me
to discuss the points of my speech. All the gentlemen were serious and
respectful with one exception. A man with an unusually small head,
diminutive form, and crooked legs tried, at my expense, to be witty and
facetious. During a brief pause in the conversation he brought his chair
directly before me and said, in a mocking tone, "Don't you think that
the best thing a woman can do is to perform well her part in the role of
wife and mother? My wife has presented me with eight beautiful
children; is not this a better life-work than that of exercising the
right of suffrage?"
I had had my eye on this man during the whole interview, and saw that
the other members were annoyed at his behavior. I decided, when the
opportune moment arrived, to give him an answer not soon to be
forgotten; so I promptly replied to his question, as I slowly viewed him
from head to foot, "I have met few men, in my life, worth repeating
eight times." The members burst into a roar of laughter, and one of
them, clapping him on the shoulder, said: "There, sonny, you have read
and spelled; you better go." This scene was heralded in all the Nebraska
papers, and, wherever the little man went, he was asked why Mrs. Stanton
thought he was not worth repeating eight times.
During my stay in Lincoln there was a celebration of the opening of some
railroad. An immense crowd from miles about assembled on this occasion.
The collation was spread and speeches were made in the open air. The men
congratulated each other on the wonderful progress the State had made