Part 16

“No!” says she indignantly, “I won’t stir a step back, they are so tickled about her gettin’ bettah, that they don’t use me with no respect at all.” And there was a tear in her eye as she added in sorrowful tones, “Ebineezah told me that if it hadn’t been for that cod liveh oil, he should have been a widowah, and a lonely man to-day. No!” says she takin’ off her hat and throwin’ it in a angry fierce way onto the bed, “I won’t stir a step back, I won’t stay anotheh minute in the same house with cod liver oil, I perfectly despise it.”

I see there was no use a arguin’ with her, the arrow had struck too deep, I see my fate, Betsey had got to accompany me on my high and lofty mission. For a minute I thought wildly of escape, of gettin’ her out of the room on some errent for a minute, and then tyin’ the sheets together and lowerin’ myself down from the winder. But better feelin’s rose inside of me, Betsey was a human bein’, I, belonged to the meetin’ house. All these nobler emotions tied up my tongue, I said nothin’ but I turned and concluded the wild tumult of my feelin’s, by takin’ the gingham case off’en my umberell I was goin’ to carry with me, and puttin’ on my bunnet we started out for our promenade.

MEET DR. MARY WALKER.

No cambric needle ever had its eye sot any keener and firmer onto the North pole, than Josiah Allen’s wife had her keen gray eye aimed at the good of the Human Race, so I thought I would go and see Horace first. But Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife told me he had gone away for the day, to some great rally in a neighborin’ village. I didn’t have the least idee what she meant by “rally,” but I answered her in a bland way that “I hoped he would have good luck and get quite a mess of it,” and then says I, “It won’t make a mite of difference with me, I can go to Miss Woodhulls’es first.”

Betsey was rampent to go to the Theater, “Barnums Amusement,” and the “Centre of the Park,” and some of the meetin’ houses with big steeples, and other places of amusement. But I says to her as we wended our way on, “Betsey, these old bones of mine will repose in Jonesville to-morrer night, as the poet saith, ‘In my own delightful feather bed.’ And Betsey, they couldn’t rest there, if they looked back and see that they didn’t do all they could while here, for the advancement of the Race, and for improvin’ of my own mind.” Says I, “I didn’t come to this village for vain pleasure, I have got a high mission to perform about, and a mind to improve upon.”

I thought we would jest run in a few minutes to Miss Hookers’es, but her hired girl says to me at the door says she,

“Miss Hooker is engaged.”

I looked the hired girl full in the face, and says I,

“What of it, what if she is?”

Then says the hired girl, “She hain’t to home.”

Says I, “Why didn’t you say so, in the first out, and not go to beatin’ round the bush.” Says I, for I was determined to do all the good I could to the Human Race, “Miss Hooker is a first rate woman, and it haint a hired girl’s place to talk about her mistress’es family matters and love affairs.”

When we got to Miss Woodhulls’es we went up the front doorsteps, and I knocked to the door, Betsey says, “Ring the bell.”

Well says I, “I hain’t particuler, hand it along.” I thought mebby she had got one in her pocket, and wanted me to ring it to pass away the time, while we was standin’ on the doorstep a waitin’ for Miss Woodhull to come and open the door.

But Betsey reached by me, and took holt of a little silver nub, by the side of the door, put there for a orniment, and pulled it.

Says I, “Don’t be so impatient Betsey. She’ll be here in a minute, don’t go to foolin’ and tearin’ the house down to pass away time.”

Jest at that minute a little Black African came to the door, he looked impudent at us, and says he,

“Miss Woodhull hain’t to home,” and he shet the door right in our faces. We was jest goin’ down the doorsteps, when the door opened agin, and a little figger came out, that at the first view baffled me. Says I to myself, “Is it a man, or is it a woman?” It had a woman’s face but a man’s pantaloons. I was baffled. But Josiah Allen’s wife hain’t one to give up the ship while there is ½ a plank left. I was determined to get all the knowledge I could while on my tower. I was determined to get information on every deep and mysterious subject I could. And so I walked up to it, and says I in a low voice and polite as I could, for fear of hurtin’ its feelin’s,

“Be you a man sir? or a women mom?”

It wasn’t mad a bit, (I say _it_, for I didn’t know then in what gender to put it.) It looked me so pleasant in the face, and yet so searchin’ly, that I was kinder flustrated, and says I, in a kind of awe struck tone,

“I hope you won’t be offended, I only ask for information. Be you a masculine, femenine or neutral gender?”

It smiled agin, jest as pleasant as one of my glass jars of maple sugar, and then it opened its mouth and said,

“I am Dr. Mary Walker.”

I don’t know when I have been so tickled; nothin’ is sweeter than knowledge to the inquirin’ mind, when it has been baffled. Says I,

“Mary I am glad to see you,” and I give her hand such a shakin’ that it looked red as a beet when I leggo. Says I,

“I am gladder to see you than I would be to see any nephew or neice I have got in the world. I am as glad to see you as I would be to see any brother or sister of mine.”

Says she, “I can’t recall your countenance.”

Says I, “Mary, I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”

“Oh!” says she, “I have read your eloquent orations on wimmin’ havin’ a right. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” Then and there I introduced Betsey.

Says she, “Did you call to see Miss Woodhull?”

“Yes,” says I, “I wanted to talk to her, for she is in the wrong, but she haint to home.”

Says she, “she is to home, and you shall see her, a few friends of the cause, have met here to-day, but they are about all gone.” She went right up the doorsteps agin, and instead of knockin’, she ketched holt of that silver nob, that Betsey had been a foolin’ with. Mary was so excited that she didn’t really know what she was about, or else she would have made some move towards gettin’ in to the house. But it was jest as well, for that impudent faced little Black African happened to come to the door agin jest at the right time. And she spoke up kinder sharp like,

“Show these ladies into the parlor, they are friends of mine, and Miss Woodhull will be glad to see ’em.”

He looked as if he would sink, and I didn’t care if he did, clear through to the suller. I should have been glad to have seen him sunk.

I looked severe at him after I had gripped Mary’s hand, and parted with her. He held the door open awful polite, and in a kind of a apoligy way he murtered somethin’ about,

“Sposin’ Miss Woodhull was engaged.”

Says I pretty sharp, “Sposin’ she is engaged, is that any reason you should turn Betsey and me out doors?” Says I, “I didn’t keep our folks’es doors locked up when I got engaged to Josiah.” Says I, “sposen’ Miss Woodhull is engaged, she ought to have been engaged, and married, years ago.”

I was in the wrong, and I see it, and ketched holt of my principles convulsively, for I see that my indignant emotions towards that little lyin’ imp was a shakin’ ’em. I hadn’t no right to be a speakin’ aginst the woman of the house to their hired help. I felt as mean as pusley to think I had done it, and says I, mildly,

“I am glad Miss Woodhull is engaged to be married, it takes a load off’en my mind,” says I, “I presume she will settle doun and make a real likely woman.”

At that minute, a door opened right across the hall, and a man come out and shet it agin, and he ketched right holt of my arm, the first thing, and says he,

“Come, Marier Jane, or Marier Ann,” says he, “I can’t really call to mind your precise name this minute, but I think it is Marier any way, or mebby it is Mary Ann. Come, Mary Ann, it is time to be a goin’ home.”

I looked at him with almost fearful dignity, and I says to him with a air so cold that he must have thought it blowed off of Greenland’s icy mountain,

“Leggo of my arm!”

But he never budged a inch, and I jest raised my umberell, and says I, “If you don’t leggo of my arm, I’ll make you leggo.”

Then he leggo. And he stood back a little, but he looked piercin’ly and searchin’ly into my face, and says he,

“You are my wife, haint you?”

Then again I spoke with that fearful dignity, and that cold and icy air, 50 degrees under Mr. Zero it was, if it was a degree.

“No Sir! I am proud and happy to say I am not your wife, I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”

He looked real meachin’, and says he, “I beg your pardon mom, but I’ve only been married to my last wife a few hours, havin’ got a divorce from a former companion after dinner yesterday, and I have been so busy since, that I haven’t really got the run of her face yet, though I thought,” he added dreamily, “that I should know that nose agin any where.”

I see that he was imposin’ on me. But I wasn’t goin’ to have my nose throwed in my face by him, and says I, “I am aware that my nose is a pretty sizeable one. But,” says I, in about as sarcastic a voice as I ever used in my life “it is a nose that haint never been wore off, and made smaller a pokin’ into other folks’es affairs. Pokin’ round a tryin’ to find wives where there haint none.”

“But mom, I was married between daylight and dark, and--”

But I wouldn’t stay to hear another word of his apoligys, I jest turned my back onto him, when the door opened agin, and a woman came out, and I’ll be hanged if her nose didn’t look like mine--a honorable Roman. The man looked at her in a kind of a undecided way, but she walked right up and took holt of his arm, and he brightened up, and says he. “Are you goin’ home now Mary Ann?”

“Yes,” says she, “but my name haint Mary Ann, it is Mehitable.”

“Wall,” said he, “I knew there was a M in it.” And he walked off with her, with a proud and triumphant mene.

INTERVIEW WITH THEODORE AND VICTORY.

The young black African opened the door and says he, “Josiah Allen’s wife, and Betsey Bobbet, mom.” He had asked us our names jest before he opened it.

Miss Woodhull was a standin’ pretty near the door, a talkin’ with 3 wimmin as we went in. But she come forward immediatly and put out her hand. I took it in mine, and shook it a very little, mebby 3 or 4 times back and forth. But she must have felt by that cool, cautious shake, that I differed from her in her views, and had come to give her a real talkin’ to.

One of the wimmen she was a talkin’ to, had jest about as noble a lookin’ face as I ever see, with short white curls a fallin’ all round it. The beholder could see by the first glance onto that face, that she hadn’t spent all the immortal energies of her soul in makin’ clover leaf tattin’, or in cuttin’ calico up into little pieces, jest to sew ’em togather agin into blazin’ stars and sunflower bedquilts. It was the face of an earnest noble woman, who had asked God what He wanted her to do, and then hadn’t shirked out of doin’ it. Who had gripped holt of life’s plough, and hadn’t looked back because the furrows turned over pretty hard, and the stumps was thick.

She knew by experience that there was never any greensward so hard to break up, as old prejudices and customs; and no stumps so hard to get round as the ridicule and misconceptions of the world. What made her face look so calm then, when she was doin’ all this hard work? Because she knew she was makin’ a clearin’ right through the wilderness that in the future was goin’ to blossom like a rose. She was givin’ her life for others, and nobody ever did this since the days of Jesus, but what somethin’ of his peace is wrote doun on thier forwards. That is the way Elizabeth Cady Stanton looked to me, as Miss Woodhull introduced me and Betsey to her, and to the two other ladies with her.

One of the other wimmen I fell in love with at first sight, and I suppose I should have been jest so partial to her if she had been as humbly as one of the Hotentots in my old Olney’s Geography, and I’ll tell you why, because she was the sister of H. W. Beecher. As a general thing I don’t believe in settin’ folks up, because they happen to have smart relations. In the words of one of our sweetest and noblest writers, “Because a man is born in a stable it don’t make him a horse.” Not as a general thing, it don’t.

But not once in 100 years does Nature turn out such a man as H. W. B. It takes her longer than that to get her ingregiences and materials togather to make such a pure sweet nature, such a broad charity, and such a intellect as his’en. Why, if the question had been put to me before I was born, whether I would be born his sister, or the twin sister of the queen of England, I’d never give a second thought to Miss Victoria Albert, not but what I respect the Widder Albert deeply, I think she is a real nice woman. But I had ruther be his sister than to be the sister of 21 or 22 other kings. For he is a king not make by the layin’ on of earthly hands, he is God’s own annointed, and that is a royalty that can’t be upsot. So as I remarked I s’pose Isabella Beecher Hooker would have looked pretty good to me any way.

The other lady was smart and sensible lookin’, but she was some like me, she won’t never be hung for her beauty. This was Susan B. Anthony. Betsey Bobbet sot down on a chair pretty nigh the door, but I had considerable talk with Susan. The other two was awful long discussin’ some question with Miss Woodhull.

Susan said in the course of her remarks that “she had made the ‘Cause of Wimmen’s Rights,’ her husband, and was going to cleave to it till she died.”

I told her I was deeply interested in it, but I couldn’t marry myself to it, because before gettin’ acquainted with it, I had united myself to Josiah.

We had considerable reasonable and agreeable talk, such as would be expected from two such minds as mine and hern, and then the three ladies departed. And Miss Woodhull came up to me agin kinder friendly, and says she,

“I am glad to meet you Josiah Allen’s wife,” and then she invited me to set down. As I turned round to get a chair I see through a door into another room where sot several other wimmen--some up to a table, and all dreadful busy readin’ papers and writin’ letters. They looked so business-like and earnest at thier work, that I knew they could not have time to back-bite thier neighbors, and I was glad to see it. As I took my seat I see a awful handsome gentleman settin’ on a sofa--with long hair put back behind his ears,--that I hadn’t ketched sight of before. It was Theodore Tilton, and Miss Woodhull introduced him to Betsey and me. He bowed to Betsey, but he came forward and took my hand in his’en. I couldn’t refuse to take it, but I looked up in his handsome face with a look about two thirds admiration, and one of sorrow. If the handsomest and best feathered out angel, had fell right over the walls of heaven into our dooryard at Jonesville, I couldn’t have give it a more piercin’, and sort of pitiful look than I did him. I then turned and silently put my umberell in the corner and sot down. As I did so, Miss Woodhull remarked to Mr. Tilton,

“She is a Strong Wimmen’s Righter, she is one of us.”

“No, Victory; I haint one of you, I am Josiah Allen’s wife.” Then I sithed. And says I, “Victory you are in the right on it, and you are in the wrong on it,” and says I, “I come clear from Jonesville to try to set you right where you are wrong.” Says I, almost overcome with emotion. “You are younger than I Victory, and I want to talk with you jest as friendly as if I was your mother in law.”

Says she, “Where do you think I am in the right, and where do you think I am in the wrong?”

Says I, “You are right in thinkin’ what a solemn thing it is to bring up children as they ought to be. What an awful thing it is to bring the little creeters into the world without their votin’ on the subject at all, and then neglect ’em, and abuse ’em, and make their poor little days awful long in the world, and then expect them to honor you for it. You are right in your views of health, and wimmin’s votin’ and etcetery--but you are wrong Victory, and I don’t want you to get mad at me, for I say it with as friendly feelin’s as if I was your mother in law,--you are wrong in this free love business, you are wrong in keepin’ house with two husbands at the same time.”

“Two husbands! it is false; I was divorced from him, and my husband and I found him perishing in the streets, and we took him home and took care of him ’till he died. Which would the Lord have done Josiah Allen’s wife, passed by on the other side, or took pity on him?”

“I don’t know what the Lord would have done Victory, but I believe I should have sent him to a good horsepittle or tarven, and hired him took care of. I never could stand it to have another husband in the same house with me and Josiah. It would seem so kind o’ curious, somethin’ in the circus way. I never could stand it never.”

“There have been a good many things Josiah Allen’s wife that you have not been required to stand, God and man united you to a good husband whom you love. But in your happiness you shouldn’t forget that some other woman has been less fortunate. In your perfect happiness, and harmony--”

“Oh!” says I candidly, “I don’t say but what Josiah and me have had our little spats Victory. Josiah will go in his stockin’ feet considerable and--”

But she interrupted of me with her eyes a flashin’,

“What would you say to livin’ with a man that forgot every day of his life that he was a man, and sunk himself into a brute. Leaving his young wife of a week for the society of the abandoned? What would you say to abuse, that resulted in the birth of a idiot child? Would you endure such a life? Would you live with the animal that he had made himself? I married a man, I never promised God nor man that I would love, honor and obey the wild beast he changed into. I was free from him in the sight of a pure God, long enough before the law freed me.”

I let her have her say out, for Josiah Allen’s wife is one to let every man or mouse tell thier principles if they have got any. And if I was conversin’ with the overseer of the bottomless pit, (I don’t want to speak his name right out, bein’ a Methodist), I would give him a chance to get up and relate his experience. But as she stopped with her voice kinder choked up, I laid my brown cotton glove gently onto her shoulder, and says I,

“Hush up Victory,” says I “wimmen must submit to some things, they can pray, and they can try to let thier sorrows lift ’em nearer to heaven, makin’ angels of ’em.”

Here Mr. Tilton spoke up and says he, “I don’t believe in the angels exclusively, I don’t see why there shouldn’t be he angels, as well as she ones.”

I was tickled, and I looked at him approvin’ly, and says I,

“Theodore you are the first man with one exception that I ever see that felt that way, and I respect you for it.” Says I, “men as a general thing think that wimmen have got to do up all the angel business there is done. Men seem to get the idee that they can do as they are a mind to and the Lord will wink at ’em. And there are lots of things that the world thinks would be awful coarse in a woman, but is all right in a man. But I don’t believe a man’s cigar smoke smells any sweeter to the Lord than a woman’s would. And I don’t believe a coarse low song, sounds any sweeter and purer in the ears of angels, because it is sung in a base voice instead of a sulfereno. I never could see why men couldn’t do somethin’ in the angel line themselves, as well as to put it all on to the wimmen, when they have got everything else under the sun to do. Not but what,” says I, “I am willen’ to do my part. I never was a shirk, and Josiah Allen will tell you so, I am willin’ to do my share of the angel business.” And says I, in a generous way, “I would do it all, if I only had time. But I love to see justice and reason. Nature feathers out geese and ganders equally, or if there is any difference the gander’s wings are the most foamin’ lookin’. Men’s shoulders are made jest the same way that wimmen’s are; feathers would look jest as well on ’em as on a woman, they can cultivate wings with jest as little trouble. What is the purest and whitest unseen feathers on a livin’ angel’s hidden wing, Theodore and Victory? They are purity, goodness, and patience, and men can grow these unbeknown feathers jest as easy as a woman can if they only set out.”

I had spoke real eloquent, and I knew it, but I felt that I had been carried away slightly by my emotions, from the mission I had come on--to try to convince Miss Woodhull where she was wrong. And so after a minutes silence, I broke out agin mildly, for I felt that if I give way to anger or impatience my mission was lost.

“Another thing you are wrong in Victory, is to think you can be lawfully married without any minister or justice of the peace. I knew that all you needed was to have it set before you plain by some female that wished you well; you are wrong in it Victory, and I tell you so plain, and to show you that I am your well wisher, I thought after I had convinced you that you was in the wrong, I would make you this offer. That if you and Col. Blood will go home with Betsey and me, Elder Wesley Minkley shall marry you right in my parlor, and it shan’t cost you a cent, for I will pay him myself in dried apples.”

Says she, “I don’t want any ceremony, I want the only tie to hold me to my husband to be love, the one sacred tie.”

“Love is a first rate tie,” says I, mildly, holdin’ on to my temper first rate, “upwards of 15 years ago, I give one of the most remarkable proofs of it, that has ever been seen in this country;” (and for a minute my mind wandered off onto that old revery, _why_ did I love Josiah Allen?) But collectin’ my mind together I spoke onwards, with firm and cast iron principle. “Still, although I felt that sacred tie unitin’ Josiah and me in a double beau knot that couldn’t be untwisted, the first time we met, still, if Elder Wesley Minkley hadn’t united us at the alter--or mother’s parlor, I should have felt dreadful floatin’ round in my mind. It would have seemed too curious and onstiddy kinder, as if Josiah and me was liable to fall all to pieces at any time, and waver off in the air like two kites that had broke loose from thier strings.” Says I, firmly, “Thier would be a looseness to it, I couldn’t stand.”

She said I would get accustomed to it, and that custom made many things seem holy that were unholy, and many things sinful that were pure in the sight of God.

But still I murmured with a sad look, but firm as old Bunker Hill, “I couldn’t stand it, Victory, it would seem too much like a circus.

“And then agin, Victory, you are in the wrong of it about divorces. ‘What God has joined togather let no man put asunder.’”

Says she, “Josiah Allen’s wife, if divorces were free to-morrow, would you get one from Josiah?”

“Never!” says I, and my best dress most bust open at the breast, (them biases always was took up a little too snug) at the idee of partin’ from Josiah.

“Well, what is it that would hold you so fast to each other that nothin’ but death could separate you? was it the few words you said before the minister?”

“It was love, Victory! love, that wouldn’t let me eat a mite, nor sleep a wink, if I couldn’t put my hand onto Josiah Allen any time day or night.”

“Then,” says she, “why not give other good men and women credit for bein’ actuated by the same sentiments? Those that God has joined togather, no man _can_ put asunder. Those who are really married heart and sole, would never separate, it would only correct abuses, and separate those that man, and not God, had joined togather.”