thou fallen!" These are Gen. Carey's words, not mine. Mr. Greeley has risen greatly in my estimation, and not fallen. A colored delegate18 did take his credentials to the Convention, but he was not received. I saw him myself, and asked him what could be done about it. He folded up his hands and said it was too late. And this was a "World's Temperance Convention!"
And this paper says that the New York Tribune, which has usually been an accredited sheet, has most shamefully misrepresented the whole affair, and refers to what was said in the Tribune, as to what the Convention had accomplished: "The first day, crowding a woman from the platform; second day, gagging her; and the third day voting she should stay gagged;" and asserts that it is a misrepresentation.
The evenings of that Convention were not devoted to this discussion, and wore not noisy or fruitless. There were burning words spoken for temperance during the evenings; but whether the Tribune's report of the day-sessions be correct or not, you yourselves can be the judges. I must say, however, the Tribune did not misrepresent that affair in its regular report; and I call upon Gen. Carey, in all kindness and courtesy; to point out just what the misstatements are—and upon any one acquainted with the facts, to show the false statement, if it can be shown.
And now I leave the action of the Convention to say what were our motives in going there. From what I have related of the circumstances which conspired to induce us to go, and the manner of our going, you can but see that no absurd desire for notoriety, no coveting of such unenviable fame as we know must await us, were the inducements. And as a simple fact, there was nothing so very important in a feeble woman's going as a delegate to that Convention; but the fact was made an unpleasant one in the experience of that delegate, and was blown into notoriety by the unmanly action of that Convention itself. But what were our reasons for going to that Convention? Did we go there to forward the cause of Temperance or to forward the cause of woman, or what were our motives in going? Woman was pleading her own cause in the Convention at the Tabernacle, and she had no need that any should go there to forward her cause for her; and much as I love temperance, and love those poor sisters who suffer because of intemperance, it was not especially to plead their cause that I went there. I went to assert a principle, a principle relevant to the circumstances of the World's Convention to be sure, but one, at the same time, which, acknowledged, must forward all good causes, and, disregarded, must retard them. I went there, asking no favor as a woman, asking no special recognition of the woman-cause. I went there in behalf of the cause of humanity. I went there, asking the indorsement of no ism, and as the exponent of no measure, but as a simple item of the world in the name of the world, claiming that all the sons and daughters of the race should be received in that Convention, if they went there with the proper credentials. I simply planted my feet upon the rights of a delegate. I asked for nothing more, and dare take nothing less. The principle which we were there to assert, was that which is the soul of the Golden Rule, the soul of that which says, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." I went there to see if they would be true to their own call, and recognize delegates without distinction of color, sex, creed, party, or condition; to see if they would recognize each member of the human family, as belonging to the human family; to see if they would grant the simple rights of a delegate to all delegates.
And do you ask, did this not retard the cause of Temperance? No; it carried it forward, as it carries every good cause forward. It awakened thought, and mankind need only to be aroused to thought, to forever destroy all wrong customs, and among them the rum traffic. They need only to think to the purpose, and when this shall be done, all good causes are bound to go forward together. Christianity is the heart and soul of them all, and those reforms which seek to elevate mankind and better their condition, cling around our Christianity, and are a part of it. They are like the cluster of grapes, all clinging about the central stem.
A wrong was done in that Convention to a delegate, and many people saw and felt that wrong, and they began to inquire for the cause of it; and so the causes of things were searched more nearly than before, and this was a good which promoted temperance. It is absurd to believe that any man or woman is any less a temperance man or woman, or a "Maine law" man or woman now, than before. If ever they loved that cause they love it now as before.
Water is the very symbol of democracy! a single jet of it in a tube will balance the whole ocean. We went there, only to claim in the name of Democracy and Christianity, that all be treated alike and impartially. The human soul is a holy thing; it is the temple of living joy or sorrow. It is freighted with vital realities. It can outlengthen Heaven itself, and it should be reverenced everywhere, and treated always as a holy thing. We only went there in the name of the world, in the name of humanity, to promote a good cause; and it is what I pledge myself now anew to do, at all times and under all circumstances, when the opportunity shall present itself to me. It was a good act, a Christian duty, to go there under those circumstances.
But let me now leave this matter, and say something which may have a direct bearing upon the circumstances of our Convention, and show why it is proper to bring up these facts here. Let us suppose ourselves gathered in Metropolitan Hall. It is a large hall, with two galleries around its sides. I could see men up there in checked blouses, who looked as though they might disturb a Convention, but they looked down upon the rowdyism of the platform, a thing unprecedented before, with simple expressions of wonder, while they were quiet. Well, here we are upon the platform. The President is speaking.
President: "Miss Brown has the floor."
A Delegate: "Mr. President, I rise to a point of order."
President: "State your point of order."
It is stated, but at the same time, in the general whirl and confusion all around, another voice from the floor exclaims: "I rise to a point of order!"
The President: "State it!"
But while these things are going on, a voice arises, "She sha'n't speak!" another, "She sha'n't be heard!" another, "You raise a point of order when he is done, and I will raise another." In the confusion I hear something almost like swearing, but not swearing, for most of those men are "holy men," who do not think of swearing. The confusion continues. Most of this time I am standing, but presently a chair is presented me, and now a new class of comforters gathers around me, speaking smooth, consoling words in my ear while upon the other side are angry disputants, clinching their fists and growing red in the face. Are the former good Samaritans, pouring into my wounded heart the oil and the wine? Listen. "I know you are acting conscientiously; but now that you have made your protest, do, for your own sake, withdraw from this disgraceful scene."
"I can not withdraw," I say; "it is not now the time to withdraw; here is a principle at stake."
"Well, in what way can you better the cause? Do you feel you are doing any good?" Another voice chimes in with: "Do you love the Temperance cause? Can you continue here and see all this confusion prevailing around you? Why not withdraw, and then the Convention will be quiet;" and all this in most mournful, dolorous tones. I think if the man cries, I shall certainly cry too.
But then a new interval of quiet occurs, and so I rise to get the floor. I fancy myself in a melting mood enough to beg them, with prayers and tears, to be just and righteous; but no, "this kind goeth not out by prayer and fasting," and so I stand up again. Directly Rev. John Chambers points his finger at me, and calls aloud: "Shame on the woman! Shame on the woman!" Then I feel cool and calm enough again, and sit down until his anger has way. Again the "friends" gather around me, and there come more appeals to me, while the public ear is filled with "points of order"; and the two fall together, in a somewhat odd, but very pointed contrast, somewhere in the center of my brain. "Do you think," says one, "that Christ would have done so?" spoken with a somewhat negative emphasis. "I think He would," spoken with a positive emphasis. "Do you love peace as well as Christ loved it, and can you do thus?"
What answer I made I know not, but there came rushing over my soul the words of Christ: "I came not to send peace, but a sword." It seems almost to be spoken with an audible voice, and it sways the spirit more than all things else. I remember that Christ's doctrine was, "first pure, then peaceable;" that He, too, was persecuted. So are my doctrines good;