USA > Ohio > Memories of the crusade a thrilling account of the great uprising of the women of Ohio in 1873, against the liquor crime > Part 3
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and he could not. I am most happy to record here, however, that Mr. Spence, who is my near neighbor, is to-day one of the very warmest friends I have, though we differ widely on the temperance question, I am sorry to say. The Springfield Advertiser of the next day gives the following report of the case :
"ARGUMENT OF MRS. E. D. STEWART TO A JURY IN THE WHISKY CASE-MOTHER STEWART IN THE ROLE OF A LAWYER.
"Geo. C. Rawlins, Esq., brought suit against Barnet Trickler for Mrs. Mary Hukins before Esquire Miller, laying damages at $300 for the sale of liquor to her husband. Mrs. Stewart was present and heard the evidence in the case. When it was all submitted and the case was closed as far as the evidence was concerned, Mr. Rawlins addressed the court, stating that Mrs. Stewart had been present, and heard all the evidence, and he requested that she be granted per- mission to address the jury on behalf of the plaintiff. The court granted the request, and Mrs. Stewart, taking a ponderous volume in her hand,proceeded to address the jury. The argument she made on this occasion was one worthy of her sex and of the bar. She was placed in such a position that she could ap- preciate the situation. It was a woman speaking in behalf of one of her sex, and she could portray to the jury the circumstances of the injustice, cruelty and hardships which Mrs. Hukins suffered from the whisky- seller. Mrs. Stewart spoke for a half an hour, and alluded with telling effect to the sneers which had greeted the poor woman, Mrs Hukins, when on the stand. She also spoke of the moneyed interest which backed up the defense.
' George Spence, Esq., followed Mrs. Stewart, and attributed to women all the rights which they claimed, but stated that this manifestation was for the purpose of working upon the prejudices of the jury.
" Mr Rawlins closed the argument in the case and
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paid a high compliment to the speech of Mrs. Stewart. The jury returned a verdict of $100 for the plaintiff."
The notoriety given to this case led the poor women to fancy that I must know a good deal about law, or that I was at least a friend that ยท could sympathize with them, and so they came to me to tell their sorrows and to ask counsel or assistance.
But I do not remember any case of special importance until October, 1873. The fore part of this month a woman came to me, saying friends had sent her with the assurance that I would do something for her. It was the same old, old story repeated-oh, who knoweth how many times !- of wretchedness, woe, misery, pri- vation, neglect, want, pinching poverty, and dis- grace for her and her children, and this last not by any means the least in the catalogue of misery. This woman, so broken in spirit, mind and body, by what she had passed through, was of an old, respectable Virginia family, and had never known what want was till brought to it by her husband's drinking. Her brother, since deceased, was at that time Chaplain to the upper house of Congress, a Doctor of Divinity, and had been editor of the Southern Methodist. When called to Baltimore in my work sometime afterwards, I made his acquaintance, and found him a Christian gentleman. But the sister had unfortunately married a man who soon developed an appetite for liquor. He had drifted from one
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place to another till her family had about lost sight of her. When she came to me, she, with her three very bright children, was living in a poor tenement in one of the poorest quarters in the city. Her neighbors and only associates were the lowest class of foreigners, and like herself, cursed by the drink. With stifling sobs and the tears streaming down her poor, careworn face, she told her story. While my heart melted for her, it seemed to me to be a hopeless case. I said to myself, It is no use, I must send this woman away, we cannot compete with the liquor scourge. But the next thought was,"No, you dare not send her away, she will haunt you in your dying hour. Then came the thought, " only through prayer." And I decided to do what I could to help her." Here I received my full baptism into the work of trying to "rescue the perishing."
Thenceforth everything else was given up, and in the years that have come and gone since, this has been the moving, actuating force of my life; and I have ever since felt hurried with the great overburdening thought that they are dropping into eternity whether we are waking or sleeping. And when I have been speeding over the country as fast as wheels and steam could carry me, or across hill and dale-often in very primitive conveyance-in sunshine or storm -addressing thousands, organizing and leading out bands of my crusade sisters, persuading men to sign the pledge and regain their lost manhood,
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urging Christian men to do their duty and wipe out the curse at the ballot-box, I have been supremely happy. This I say, not because I have not loves and longings, hopes and ambitions and aspirations, as others have.
How I could enjoy the sweets of home, sweet home, and how I yearn, and grow homesick, often, as I go up and down the land, for that dearest spot on earth, and the loved who are lonely because I am not there! How I could enjoy the pleasures of cultivated society, the esthetic pleasures that wealth can buy! I can hardly think there is another on earth that could enjoy with such exquisite pleasure the delights of reading, the acquaintance of the great, the learned, the good, through their works. How my heart hungers for the gratification of my taste in art, in music, in communing with nature, the grand old woods, the tiny flowers, the song of birds. Elsewhere I have told of the limited opportunities and struggles of my young life. But I hoped on bravely that a more auspicious time and more favorable opportunities would come. But the burdens, not the pleasures, of this life seem to have been my portion, and I am content, content! Nay, verily, that is not the word. Oh, the blessedness of working for Jesus ! There is another feature that is not understood by the world. It is assumed that one stepping out of the sphere prescribed by custom must be possessed of a sort of obtuse nature, devoid of and not understanding the softer, gentler traits
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of character; possessing, instead, a coarse, defiant nature which says, "I don't care what people say or think."
A very little reflection would correct this mistake, and save many a tear caused by the unjust and unfeeling criticism of the world. In the first place, the obtuse, the indifferent to the good or bad opinion of others, are also selfish and unfeeling, and hence cannot be interested to any great extent in the weal or woe of human - ity, unless through some personal motive.
How often have I heard women say, "Ihave no need to work in the temperance cause, my hus- band, my sons, are safe " (and not infrequently, too, when the world knew they were far from it). But what a dwarfed, starved soul that Christian must possess who cannot see any reason above self for stretching out the hand to poor, perish- ing humanity. It has often been asked of me, "What has caused her to take the stand she has? What is it that so impels her ?" And as the world demanded a reason that it could un- derstand, the very plausible one, many would suppose, has been manufactured to meet the case and sent out, that my husband was at some time a very intemperate man and had abused me terribly. This would be a fearful reason, to be sure. But I am happy to say I never saw my husband take a drink of liquor in my life, unless it might have been cider of his own make, in the olden times. He made a profession of religion at the age of sixteen, and united with
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the church, and has the reputation of living a consistent life. The fact is, my Heavenly Father gave me a sympathetic nature, a heart easily affected by the sufferings even of the lowliest of the brute creation ; but with this, a keenly sen- sitive nature and a strong love of approbation. You can faintly conjecture what one possessing such traits must suffer from the blind, unjust criti- cisms, the sneers and slanders of the world. Painfully alive to everything of the kind, going upon the platform, my eyes instantly scan my audience and I take in almost at a glance the feeling and sentiment. If there is prejudice, indif- ference, curiosity or sympathy with me or my subject, I see or feel it all, -the whispered com- ment, the exchange of a look. Sometimes, I may say not often, I have found my audiences so lacking in sympathy for my subject that I found the first thing to be done was to break the ice that enveloped them, a more exhausting task than two or three ordinary efforts. But the suffering, -I wonder if it can be possible that any other has suffered as I have ? not so much from the liquor vender, for I had reason to expect hard things from him.
.
Indeed, with a few rare exceptions, I have little to complain of from the fraternity. They knew I was trying to do their business all the harm I could. If that were all, looking at it from their standpoint, what wonder that they would say hard things of me! I was prepared for that. But I must believe that most of them do understand
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that I mean no ill-will to them outside of their business; and some of them have so given me to believe. But from sources unexpected, un- looked for, have come the bitterest trials and of consequence, so much the harder to bear. Oh, how I cried to my Father to give me the confi- dence of the people. I felt I must have it to do the work He had put into my hands. But when positive falsehoods were circulated, apparently for no other purpose than to break me down and destroy my influence, and this from the least expected sources, I was staggered, almost blinded with pain. It was all so inscrutable to me. Oh, what tears I shed ! If my chamber could testify, what nightly hours of weeping would it reveal !
What did impel me? Simply, I heard my Father call me and I ran gladly to do his bid- ding, and I am so glad; I can never tell how great an honor I feel it to be, that He hath counted me worthy. Oh, to be counted among the harvesters in the field, if only the humblest gleaner ! Oh, to believe I shall come by and by, bringing in my sheaves !
What are worldly pleasures, esteem, renown, the pleasures of sense, gratification of even re- fined tastes, compared to the blessing of them that are ready to perish, or to the "well done" of my Father in the presence of the angels when the day's work is done.
But I have left my poor woman waiting much longer than I did that day. I thought very fast,
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and decided that if I acted at all I must at once and hold her while she was in hand. I knew very well that if the liquor-seller got intimation of any intention to interfere with his little pas- time of ruining men and starving their families, he would manage by bribe or threats to induce the woman to change her mind. Or, if her wretched husband should find out that there was danger of his supply being cut off, he would find means to put a stop to proceedings.
Oh, Christian friends, has it ever dawned upon your minds what horror it must be for a poor, helpless woman to find herself in the power and at the mercy of a creature who has drowned out all his manhood, all the loving, tender, husbandly feeling, and, possessed only with a raging thirst for drink, becoming a very demon at the bare thought of his indulgence being interfered with? I told her I would take her to a law firm and see what we could do; and throwing on my wraps, took her to the office of Mower & Rawlins, the junior partner being my young friend who had prosecuted the other case. I stated her case to them, and asked if they would undertake it for her, on contingency of a fee if they gained it, as the woman had not a dime with which to buy a loaf of bread for her children. Mr. Rawlins answered at once that he would take the case if I would join him in it. I said yes, I would do anything in my power to help her. We arranged to take the case before the Mayor's court, and set the time for the next Thursday,
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October 16. Now came to me the incipient ideas of dealing with the liquor question that were soon to be developed so wonderfully in the Crusade. Only through prayer, I said. But the Christian women must be awakened and brought to feel that they have an interest in the question, and something to do. I sent notes to, and in- vited ladies of known piety and respectability, of the various churches, to come to the court room on Thursday, as a liquor case was to be tried at that time.
My friend, Mr. Nichols, had told me when I should have another liquor case, to let him know, and he would have a reporter on hand. I informed him that we had another case on hand and he said he would send in a reporter.
I sent word to nearly all the ministers of the city that we were going to prosecute a liquor- seller for a poor woman, "would they come ?" " Oh yes, certainly." I remember I sat in my own church the Sabbath before the trial and heard Bishop Wiley make such an appeal as he, of all men, was able to make, for the Memphis sufferers from yellow fever. But my heart was with my poor client, and the thousands such as she, who were suffering terrors from the liquor scourge-compared to which that of the yellow fever was scarcely to be named. At the close of the service I went to my minister and asked him if he ever went into the court room. He looked quite puzzled, but after catching his breath a little, he answered that he never had,
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but if it were necessary he could go. I said while the Bishop was making that grandly elo- quent appeal, I, too, had a great burden on my heart, and added that we were going to have a prosecution before the Mayor's court, for a drunkard's wife, "would he come?" Yes, he would. I said, bring Sister -and come, but as I looked into his face, I saw he was saying, "No, I wont." He had just married a new wife, and of course a court room was no place for his wife. Something also prevented his attendance. But my good brother became a very enthusi- astic helper ere long. Before the case came on I sat down and wrote the following appeal. Here again I know the Lord helped me. I carried it to Mr. Nichols, telling him here was a paper on which I had done my best, with prayers and tears; and asked him to give it a place in the Republic, with an editorial, maintaining the impression that it was written by and not for a drunkard's wife, for I had abundant material from which I wrote, and he accordingly did :
AN APPEAL TO THE WOMEN OF SPRINGFIELD.
Women of Springfield, My Sisters : - My misery has become greater than I can: bear. I know not which way to turn. I have no one to whom I can go for redress, for protection-no one but God. 1 am a drunkard's wife This, to those who have had the experience, explains all, and tells my pitiful tale, better than any words I can command. Yet these are surrounded with the same difficulties, the same trials, and are lacking the same helps that I am. They have, indeed, their lives and hearts so full of their own miseries, that they have no room for mine.
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And if they had, are as helpless as I myself am, to alleviate their own sorrow, without a thought of help- ing others. My story is a brief one, and so like hun- dreds and thousands of others that you hear of daily, till they have become such a matter of indifference to you that I fear you will pass it by unheeded. Yet, oh, I pray you for God's sake, listen to me.
I was once young and gay and happy, as any of you are. I was raised respectably and tenderly, and held my place in the best circle of society. When twenty, I married a man whom I loved-intelligent, upright, honorable, sober-as I thought. I had never seen him drink, and did not know he ever tasted any- thing that would intoxicate. We started in our own happy home, with bright prospects for the future.
So bright and happy were those days, gone forever. But alas! I directly found that my husband, when he met his old associates, would come home with the smell of liquor on his breath. I will not weary you with a repetition of the common story of neglected business, the going down, down, the loss of our little Eden, the gradual change in my husband's nature, from one of the most tender and loving, to a moody, morose, abusive husband and father. So changed, so besotted and imbruted has he been made by this consuming appetite, that he is an object of loathing and terror to those who once were thrilled with delight by the sound of his approaching footsteps.
So low have we sunk, that a miserable hovel in one of the lowest quarters of the city furnish us-not a home, (that word for me and my helpless children has no longer any meaning), but a precarious shelter from the elements.
So destitute have we become, that the poorest fare barely saves us from starvation. Our clothing is so poor and scant that my children are no longer able to attend school, and if they were, the older ones are becoming unable to bear the taunts and jeers of the other more fortunate children, who call their father a drunkard, and them, a drunkard's children.
We hear the sweet music of the Sabbath bells call- ing the happy, the wealthy, the fortunate to Sabbath School and the sanctuary. But not for us do they chime forth on the still, balmy air of these beautiful
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Sabbath mornings. No place there for the drunk- ard's family. If we should attempt to go in our faded and patched garments, you, my sisters, to whom I make this appeal, extorted by the depths of misery and woe, would be so shocked and horrified as to show it, andadd to our mortification and distress ; for our condition makes us sensitive and keenly alive to every such manifestation.
No peaceful Sabbath-days for us, though we are in a Christian city, boasting its twenty churches, with their respectable, well-dressed audiences. Oh, do ministers of Christ ever remind you that while you sit there so comfortably, listening to the sweet sounds of the gospel, there are men, women and children who never enter your churches? who, while you are praying and praising in the sanctuary, are living in the midst of scenes of drunken brawls and Sabbath desecration ? Oh, do those ministers ever remember us in their prayers ?
Do you, oh my happy sisters, ever think to put up a prayer for the drunkard's family? We are told that the law is now on our side, and are exhorted to go into the courts and prosecute those more than murderers, the liquor-sellers. But how little do people know of the difficulties that surround the drunkard's wife. The shame and mortification of a public expos- ure, a woman's ignorance of law, and the fear of doing something wrong; the difficulty of getting such witnesses as will testify to the facts necessary to a successful prosecution ; the shrinking from appearing in a court-room alone, among a low class of drinking men, whom the dignity of the Court cannot restrain from jeering and making low, coarse remarks ; where even respectable (?) lawyers can be bought for a price to plead against her, using low, personal attacks, when the facts fail them.
Could one, of all the Christian women of this city, be induced-even for the love of Christ -- be induced to come and sit by her side-her husband forbidding her, and using his authority or perhaps violence to prevent it? Besides, what has a poor drunkard's wife to offer a lawyer to prosecute her case ? Oh, sisters, sisters ! poverty, wretchedness and black despair are settling down upon me; I have no way to turn.
(4)
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Willingly would I give my life! Oh, I would gladly go to the stake, if by that means my once noble husband could be restored to his family, to himself, to his God! But I see no way for me, and am tempted, so sorely tempted, to take my own life and end my misery, and am only restrained because of my poor children ; and yet how can I save them from the fate of infamy and pauperism ? It seems to me I shall go mad. Help me, oh sisters, for the dear Christ's sake. As you hope for mercy at his hand in the great day, hear and heed my appeal. Fain would I go and kneel to each of you, and tell you my woe if I could. Oh, stop only a few moments and consid- er my case. Stop in the midst of your happiness and gayety, your occupations with dress and amusements, and consider the hundreds of poor drunkard's wives and children in the city, who have no one to help or befriend them.
You, my fortunate sisters, have the power to close these drinking-dens; you could bring happiness once more to these aching hearts. Give us a few moments of your happy hours in your closets. Appeal to God for us; use your influence with the men who rule our city. Oh, if you only would combine, and demand that these holes of destruction should be closed, it would be done at once. Will you do it ? I ask it for myself and helpless children; for the hundreds of women and children in like situation. The winter is coming on and we have nothing with which to meet it. 'The Benevolent Society will again do its utmost to relieve the extreme cases of suffering and want. God bless those noble women for their noble efforts, but after all, how meagre is the supply, and it does not, cannot touch the root of the matter.
I have heard that in nearly all your churches you have societies working for the help of women in heathen lands. For this I am thankful; I would not have you do less. How sweet it must be to have the privilege of helping the needy. May you reap an
abundant harvest. But, oh, while you are thus laboring, do not forget your sisters here in this Chris- tian land, who are as degraded and as effectually shut off from the gospel as if in the remotest heathen lands. In the name of our Blessed Master, who
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when he was on earth went about doing good, oh, sisters of Springfield, help us.
A DRUNKARD'S WIFE.
I do not know whether there ever was any event or circumstance in the world's history, however solemn, that somewhere in it did not protrude itself the whimsical or the ludicrous. Certainly, all through our wonderful Crusade, so full of the most exalted experiences, as also of the most sad and pathetic, ever and anon would some incident thrust itself in that took on all the airs of a first-class farce. In this instance, in the midst of the excitement and inquiry in regard to the letter and its author, one poor fellow, feeling very sure the case fitted him, conceived the idea that it was his wife that wrote that letter, and he would answer it, so he would ; and he did, and the editor, always ready to oblige, very kindly let him expose himself to ridicule by publishing it. The rest, who found themselves thus photographed, pretended not to recognize the likeness, and kept silent.
I copy from the Republic, October 17 :
AN INEBRIATE HAS HIS SAY.
After the publication of his Nicholas Nickleby, in whi h the character of Squeers, the finished country school master, is prominent, Dickens is said to have received letters from all parts of England, the writers being country school-masters, each believing himself the original of the character, and each threatening legal proceedings, personal chastisement, and all sorts of terrible things.
A few days ago the Republic published a commu- nication from a " Drunkard's Wife," which seems to have created quite a commotion, every dissipated
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Benedict in the community thinking the communica- tion an emanation from his own decidedly better half, either in person or by proxy.
One such has been moved to send the annexed note, which we take the liberty of inserting, notwith- standing a subsequent request from the writer to sup- press it. No names being mentioned, nobody need take it as personal, and a point is made, which is worthy of consideration. Here is what a drunkard says :
To the Editor :- I find in this week's Republic a communication from a " Drunkard's Wife," wherein she laments sorely over her drunken husband. I would merely suggest to this drunkard's wife, that it might be possible that she made me a drunkard. Had she been the loving angel that she was when I married her, the probability is that she and her chil- dren would now be all right.
DRUNKARD.
Much inquiry was made of the editor and my- self about that drunkard's wife. One most excellent lady came to me to inquire if I knew her to be really a worthy woman. If she really deserved to be helped, of course the case should be looked after. It had struck the good Christian people of our city as a most astonishing thing that even one woman could be suffering as the author of this letter seemed to be. They had not seen, had not thought, or noticed, and could with difficulty be made to believe it, so indiffer- ent were the good people, at this time, to the drink question in our midst.
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