Volume I Part 7 (1/2)

In courses erratic they're wheeling through s.p.a.ce, 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 pet.i.tion 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Now, misses may reason, and think, and debate, Till unquestioned submission is quite out of date.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 a.s.sumptions 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!