Part 3

Soon she took her place as a preacher in the Society of Friends, feeling "called," as she tells us, "to a public life of usefulness"; and during the latter part of the year 1818, she accompanied another minister named Sarah Zane to Virginia, for the purpose of holding religious meetings. Here Mrs. Mott came into contact with the question of slavery, and in all her discourses she never failed to urge the doctrine of emancipation. She believed in liberty of the body and liberty of thought; indeed, her belief in liberty may be said to have been the basis of all her sermons.

The Quakers who held slaves freed them as early as 1774. The Society of Friends, to which Mr. and Mrs. Mott belonged, became so interested in the slavery question as to recommend that any goods produced by slave-labor should not be handled by any Quaker in regular standing. Mr. Mott was at that time engaged in a prosperous cotton business, but consistent with his views, he gave up this business,—for a while finding great difficulty in making a living.

In 1833, the Female Anti-Slavery Society was formed in Philadelphia. Mrs. Mott was one of four women who, braving public opinion, gave their voices to the cause of Freedom. She was President of the society during most of its existence; and it was due mainly to her inspiring presence, her courage and activity, and her unfailing dignity, that the society accomplished its great work.

She sheltered fugitive slaves, everywhere befriended the colored people, and traveled from place to place preaching the doctrine of liberty.

Young people of the present time can hardly understand the bitter and fierce opposition encountered by those people who were working to free the slaves. For many years, public feeling on the subject was so intense that many anti-slavery meetings were broken up by acts of violence. Sometimes mobs of men and women stoned the windows of the houses where these meetings were being held, breaking into the assemblage, leaping upon the platform, and shouting so loudly that the speaker's voice was lost in the noise.

In 1838, during a riot in Philadelphia, a mob burned Pennsylvania Hall, and then marched through the streets threatening an attack upon the house of James and Lucretia Mott. Mrs. Mott sent her children out of the house to a place of safety, and she, with her husband and a few friends, sat quietly waiting for the mob. Before it reached the house, however, the leaders urged the rioters to attack a home for colored orphans in another part of the city, and so the raid upon the Mott house was given up for that night.

At another time, when the mob was expected, and when Mr. and Mrs. Mott, surrounded by their friends, sat listening to the angry cries of threatening men outside, it happened that in the crowd was a young man friendly to the Mott family. He cried, "On to the Motts'!" and purposely ran up the wrong street. The rioters followed him blindly, and the Motts were a second time saved from violence.

Women who had formerly been Mrs. Mott's friends passed her on the street without speaking, and scornful people laughed at her. Sometimes rough men, carried away by the excitement of the times, surged round her like maniacs, threatening violence, but Mrs. Mott never lost her temper or her composed manner. In her own story of her life she says, "The misrepresentation, ridicule and abuse heaped upon these reforms do not in the least deter me from my duty."

When the National Anti-Slavery Society was formed, Mrs. Mott took a prominent part, offering suggestions with "such charm and precision that they were readily assented to." In this work she was associated with Garrison, Whittier, and other noted Abolitionists.

In 1840, Mrs. Mott was sent to London to represent the Abolitionists of the United States at the World's Anti-Slavery Convention, where she met Elizabeth Cady Stanton, also a delegate. They were not permitted to take their places in the Convention, for by a vote taken at their first sitting, that body decided that only men were to be admitted. Aside from this, however, the women were treated with the greatest courtesy. But, though their feelings were supposed to be salved by being given seats of honor in the hall, they felt keenly the humiliation of their position. It was certainly an indignity.

Mrs. Mott had for years been accustomed to speaking in public, people of all denominations coming many miles to hear the great Quaker preacher. Her home had been a refuge for hunted slaves, and all her eloquence was devoted to the cause of their freedom. Without doubt, she was one of the most prominent persons present at this meeting. She, if anyone, should have been allowed to speak in behalf of humanity.

Out of the indignation aroused on this occasion in the minds of Mrs. Mott and Mrs. Stanton, grew the Woman Suffrage Movement. The first Woman's Rights Convention was called in Seneca Falls, New York, July, 1848, the rights of women to the ballot and their equality with man under the law being the subjects discussed.

James Mott approved of his wife's course and assisted her all that he could by presiding at the first meeting. No end of ridicule was heaped upon the women who thus openly claimed equal rights with men, but Mrs. Mott argued her cause so politely and so wittily that her opponents were disarmed. It is a pleasure to know that Lucretia Mott lived to see the slaves freed and to note the change of public opinion toward herself and others who had worked for freedom.

When Mrs. Mott was seventy-five and her husband eighty years of age, they went to Brooklyn to visit their grandchildren. While there, Mr. Mott was taken ill with pneumonia and passed away quietly while his wife was sleeping on the pillow beside him. Colored men bore him to his grave, at their own request, to show their regard for one who had worked so persistently to benefit their race. The Motts' married life had been one of great happiness, not the slightest shadow having ever come between them. One who knew them well said, "Theirs was the most perfect wedded life to be found on earth."

Mrs. Mott was greatly solaced to know that her opponents had changed their opinions in respect to her. During the latter part of her life, it was no unusual thing for a stranger to stop her in the street and ask the privilege of shaking hands. Once a woman in mourning passed quickly by her, whispering, "God bless you, Lucretia Mott."

Each Christmas Day she visited the Colored Home in Philadelphia, carrying turkeys and pies and personal gifts to every inmate. She also sent a box of candy to every conductor and brakeman on the railroad on which she traveled, saying: "They never let me lift out my bundles, and they all seem to know me!" The number of children, both black and white, named after her, was astonishing.

At the Centennial Anniversary of the Old Pennsylvania Abolition Society, Lucretia Mott was greeted by the vast audience with cheers and waving of handkerchiefs and hats. Another ovation occurred at a July Fourth meeting of the National Woman Suffrage Association. When she rose to speak some-one called to her, "Go up into the pulpit!" As she ascended the pulpit steps, all sang, "Nearer, my God, to Thee!"

Mrs. Mott lived twelve years after her husband's death; then she too passed away, on November 11, 1880, at the age of eighty-seven.

All women have cause to remember her with affection, for she braved public opinion to secure recognition for them.

MARY LYON

(1797-1849)

"Human kind is but one family. The education of its youth should be equal and universal."

—_Frances Wright D'Arusmont_

To-day if a girl wishes to obtain an education equal to that of a man, the doors of many colleges and other institutions of learning are open to her. It is not so many years ago that this was not the case. Most people, then, thought that girls had no need for a knowledge of the higher branches, and it is largely owing to Mary Lyon that the young women of to-day have such splendid advantages for education.

Born in Buckland, in Western Massachusetts, February 28, 1797, Mary began life, poor and obscure. She was the fifth of a family of seven children, and her early life was one of hard work and of meager opportunity.

Yet it was not unhappy. Her mountain home was well kept, and her parents governed entirely by kindness, insisting upon gentle words, pleasant looks and thoughtfulness for others, on the part of all the children. Out of doors all was beautiful. The mountains, the rocks and streams, the fine trees which surrounded the house,—all gave the child much pleasure. To Mary it seemed as though the peaches and the strawberries raised on their own little farm were larger and more delicious than any others. Her parents had a wonderful faculty for making things grow, and the neighbors said that the plants in Mrs. Lyon's dooryard always bloomed more luxuriantly than any others in the neighborhood.

When Mary was four years old her father died, but her mother, with the help of a hired man, continued the work of the farm and succeeded in supporting her family. Mary, as she grew up, did much of the housework and the spinning. In those days, nearly every family spun the thread to weave the cloth for their own garments, and by the time she was twelve years old, Mary had become expert at this work.

At the age of seven, Mary walked two miles to school. She delighted in her studies and made such rapid progress that visitors to the school were astonished. Finally, the district school moved still farther away, and then Mary went to Ashfield to study, living there during school months and doing housework to pay for her board.

Every spare moment was spent over her books and, when she was twelve years old, Mary Lyon determined to become a teacher. None of the other girls in the school had any definite purpose as to the future. The boys planned to become carpenters, farmers, teachers, lawyers, or ministers, but girls were supposed to become wives, mothers and housekeepers, for which offices no special training was thought necessary. Since that time, fortunately for the race, public opinion has changed in this respect; to-day, everybody knows that in order to manage a household well, to rear children, and to make a happy home, girls need to have a great deal of knowledge.

When Mary Lyon announced her intention of being a teacher, the community was astonished, not to say shocked. It was predicted that she would fail. Men, not women, were meant for the teaching profession! Mary's proficiency in her studies, however, could not be denied. Early and late she pored over her books; in four days, to the amazement of her teacher, she learned all of Alexander's Grammar and recited it perfectly. When she was thirteen, her mother married again and went to live in Ohio, but Mary remained on the farm and kept house for her only brother. He paid her one dollar a week—a large sum for a girl to earn in the year 1810.

For a while it looked as though her high ambitions would never be realized, but the brave girl did not know the word despair. She studied all she could and read every book she could lay her hands upon. After five years spent in this way her brother married and went away, leaving his sister free to do as she pleased.

Thus thrown entirely upon her own resources, Mary began her career as a teacher in Shelburne Falls. Seventy-five cents a week and board made up her munificent salary. By dint of spinning and weaving for some of the neighbors, she earned a little more. Luckily, she did not care for fine clothes or trinkets, so that at the age of twenty she had saved enough money to enable her to spend a term at Sanderson Academy at Ashfield. This was her great opportunity and she improved it well, making a real sensation in the school by her brilliancy. They say that when Mary Lyon stood up to recite, her class-mates laid aside their tasks to listen to her.

The term over, Mary planned to go back to teaching, for she had no money to continue her studies. It so happened that some of the trustees of the Academy, hearing of her unusual scholarship, offered her another term, tuition free. Mary thankfully accepted this favor, and doubtless, had wonderful dreams of the use she might make of all her knowledge when she should get it. But, first, she must plan some way to pay her board while studying. Among her possessions were some bedding, some table linen, and a few other household articles. These she succeeded in exchanging at a boarding house for a room and a seat at table. Her companions in the boarding house told of her that she slept but four hours, spending all the remainder of her time at her books.

But though she had now reached a point in scholarship where she could easily hold a position as teacher, Mary Lyon by no means considered her education completed. All her vacations were spent in the study of some branch in which she found herself deficient. She spent some time in the family of the Reverend Edward Hitchcock, afterward President of Amherst College, with whom she studied natural science, at the same time taking lessons in drawing and painting from his wife.

In 1821, at the age of twenty-four, Mary had saved enough money to enable her to enter the school of Reverend Joseph Emerson at Byfield. Her friends were strongly opposed to her going, telling her that she knew enough already; that, as she would never be a minister, it was unnecessary for her to study more. But Mary had other ideas, and could not be diverted from her purpose.

Mr. Emerson was a broad-minded man of very advanced notions for his day and generation. He actually believed that women could understand philosophical subjects as well as men and that, if their minds demanded good solid food, they ought to have it! His wife was a woman of much ability, and together they discussed questions of science and religion with their pupils.

It was undoubtedly these discussions that turned Mary Lyon's mind and thoughts to spiritual things. Heretofore, she had been so absorbed in her passion for general knowledge that the matter of religion had never touched her. Suddenly the fact burst upon her that all things in this life were useless and unsatisfying, except as they were used in helping humanity. From this time on, her work of teaching seemed little short of inspired.

When, later, an assistant was wanted at Sanderson Academy, notwithstanding the opposition of many who believed that a man should fill the place, Mary Lyon was selected for the position. Before long one of her former teachers, Miss F. P. Grant, sent for her to fill a higher position at Derry, New Hampshire. Mary delayed going in order to take some lessons in chemistry from Professor Eaton of Amherst.

The school in Derry numbered ninety pupils. It was held only during the summer months, and during the winter Mary again taught at Ashfield and Bucklands. She charged twenty-five cents a week for tuition, the scholars boarding with families in the vicinity, at the rate of $1.25 weekly. Meanwhile Miss Grant, who had removed to Ipswich, induced Miss Lyon to join her there. Together they conducted the Ipswich Academy, and together they worked out their ideas of what a school should be.

During these years of teaching, Mary Lyon's heart had been full of sympathy for girls who desired an education but could not obtain it. There were no scholarships offered in those days and the doors of men's colleges were closed to women. At Ipswich, Mary found it impossible to conduct a good school on the income derived from the fees of the pupils. So she tried to interest wealthy men, ministers, and college presidents in her plan of forming a high-grade school or college for women, asking those who were able, to donate a sum of money for the purpose.

Most of these men refused to aid her in the project, repeating the old story that "girls had no need for a knowledge of science or the classics; that, in fact, they were unfitted for studying advanced branches." Miss Lyon held a quite different view, and stuck to her purpose through every discouragement.

Yet, sometimes even brave Mary Lyon had moments of despondency, when she would weep bitterly over her failure to interest others in her plans. But the idea of giving up the work never crossed her mind. She often said to her pupils, "If you feel depressed, think of others, not of yourself!"

About this time she refused a good offer of marriage, saying that her life was devoted to one purpose and that she must give herself entirely to her work. She prayed, and begged her mother to pray, for success. Over and over again she would say: "Commit thy way unto the Lord. He will keep thee. Women _must_ be educated. They _must_ be!"

At last her faith turned to a faint hope. People began to be interested, and she now gave all her time to the work of soliciting funds. It was her desire to raise the first thousand dollars from women, and this she succeeded in doing in two months' time. Dr. Hitchcock, always her staunch friend, aided her with his support and approval, and one by one broad-minded, noble men lent their assistance, until the Female Seminary was an assured thing.

On October 3, 1836, the corner stone of Mount Holyoke Seminary was laid at South Hadley, Massachusetts. Mary Lyon in writing to a friend of the occasion said: "I have indeed lived to see the time when a body of gentlemen has ventured to lay the corner stone of an edifice, which will cost $15,000 and which will be an institution for the education of females. This will be an era in female education."

In about one year the Seminary was opened to pupils. Since its advantages were intended chiefly to benefit poor girls, the charges were placed at the low figure of sixty dollars a year for board and tuition. There were accommodations for eighty pupils, but one hundred and sixteen attended the first year!

In order to lessen expenses, as well as to insure good health and to teach domestic science, all the household work was done by the pupils. Moreover, if it could be shown that the graduates of the Seminary had acquired a knowledge of household matters together with their classical and scientific studies, the prejudice which existed against education for girls might be lessened.

Miss Lyon received a salary of two hundred dollars a year, and her teachers received from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars each. Catherine Beecher once took Mary Lyon to task for the small salaries paid her teachers. Miss Lyon replied, "In a list of motives for teaching, I should first place the great motive, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself'." She aimed to employ only such teachers as would work as she did—for the benefit of humanity. Her own best reward was the love which her pupils manifested for her, and the respect with which they treated her.

She never had any trouble with discipline because she never required anything of the students but compliance with the ordinary rules of lady-like behavior, consideration for others, and attention to their studies. They were expected to do right, or to go away. The fact is that none but earnest workers sought to enter Mount Holyoke.

After twelve years as Principal of Mount Holyoke Seminary, Miss Lyon died, March 5, 1849, and was buried in the Seminary grounds. Over her grave is a beautiful monument of white Italian marble bearing the memorable sentence she uttered when giving her last instruction to her scholars:

"There is nothing in the world I fear, but that I shall not know all my duty or shall fail to do it!"

To her was due one of the greatest revolutions in the history of our country. She reversed the prevailing opinion of the men of that time regarding female education, and was the grand pioneer in a movement which has gone steadily forward ever since.

To-day the property of Mount Holyoke is worth $3,000,000. Thousands of girls have been educated there, many of whom have become missionaries and teachers. Many others have married, their education enabling them to be better wives and mothers, and to do their full duty in any station in life to which they may be called.

DOROTHEA DIX

(1802-1887)

"Great women belong to history and to self-sacrifice."

—_Leigh Hunt_

Dorothea Dix has been called "the most useful and distinguished woman America has yet produced." Let us follow the events of her life and decide for ourselves whether this statement is true.

Dorothea Lynde Dix was born April 4, 1802, at Hampden, Maine. Her father, Joseph Dix, was a man of unstable character and of a most singular mental make-up. In fact, he was regarded as almost insane on religious questions. He wandered about from place to place writing and publishing tracts, spending in this way the little money he had, without regard to the needs of his family. His wife and children were required to assist in the stitching and pasting of the tracts, a tiresome work which brought them no return.

At twelve years of age Dorothea rebelled against this labor. She wished to attend school, but there was little chance for her to study while she lived with her father. So she ran away from Worcester, where the family then lived, and went to Boston, the home of her grandmother, Mrs. Dorothea Lynde Dix.

Mrs. Dix received the girl as kindly as her nature would permit. But she was a stern woman, with very strict ideas of training children, and every piece of work done for her had to be perfectly performed or severe punishment followed.

Once, when little Dorothea had failed to accomplish a task as well as her grandmother thought she should, she was compelled to spend a whole week alone without speaking to anyone. This sounds cruel, but Dorothea's grandmother wished to make the child careful and painstaking.

Poor little Dorothea! She said in after years that she "never knew childhood." But she submitted to her grandmother's sternness rather than return to her father and the wandering, useless life he led. She had always in mind the day when she would be able to support herself and help her younger brothers. So she studied diligently, and being clever, made great progress. When she was fourteen, she returned to Worcester, where she opened a small school for young children. In order to look old enough for a teacher, she lengthened the skirts of her dresses and arranged her hair grown-woman fashion.

The school succeeded, for Dorothea, though always kind and gentle, was a strict disciplinarian. The year following, she returned to Boston and studied to fit herself for more advanced work in teaching. In 1821, when she was nineteen years of age, she opened a day and boarding school in that city, in a house belonging to her grandmother. Here she received pupils from the best families in Boston and the neighboring towns, and was able to send for her brothers and educate them, while supporting herself. Dorothea's sympathies, meanwhile, were drawn to the poor children about her, who had no means of obtaining an education because their parents could not afford to pay the tuition. She put the matter before her austere grandmother, and begged for the use of a loft over the stable for a school room for these children. The little "barn school" was the beginning of a movement that grew, and later resulted in the Warren Street Chapel.

You may imagine how happy Dorothea Dix was now,—to be self-supporting and to be helping others to become so! She managed the two schools, had the care of her two brothers, and took entire charge of her grandmother's home. For Mrs. Dix had learned to admire and trust the granddaughter whom she had once found so careless.

This amount of work would completely fill the lives of most people, yet Dorothea found time to prepare a text-book upon _Common Things_. Sixty editions of the book were printed and sold. It was followed by two others: _Hymns for Children_ and _Evening Hours_.