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LUCRETIA MOTT
(1793-1880)
"There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire which beams and blazes in the dark hours of adversity."
—Washington Irving
Born on the quaint little island of Nantucket, January 3, 1793, Lucretia Coffin grew to girlhood among peaceful and beautiful surroundings. Her father was Captain of a whaler and was, consequently, often away from home for long periods, so that the mother was responsible for the early training of the children.
Lucretia and her sisters were taught to be thrifty in household matters, and trustworthy in all the relations of life. Industry, too, was greatly encouraged in the Coffin family. When the mother had to go out, she would set her daughters at their knitting, telling them that when they had accomplished a certain amount of work, they might go down into the cellar and pick out as many of the small potatoes as they wanted, and roast them. This was considered a great treat, and we can picture the six little children gathered about the big fireplace watching the potatoes in the ashes.
Captain Coffin gave up the sea at last and moved his family to Boston, where he entered into business. The children at first attended a private school, but Captain Coffin, who was nothing if not democratic, decided afterward that they should go to the public school, where they might "mingle with all classes without distinction." Lucretia said in the afterlife that she was glad of this action of her father. "It gave me a feeling of sympathy for the patient and struggling poor, whom but for this experience, I might never have known."
At thirteen years of age, Lucretia was sent to a Friends' boarding school at Nine Partners, New York. Both boys and girls attended this school but were not permitted to speak to each other unless they were near relatives. In that case, they might talk together a little while, on certain days, over a corner of the fence that divided the playgrounds.
One of Lucretia's sisters—"the desirable little Elizabeth," as her father called her—accompanied her to this school. These sisters, although very different in character, loved each other with peculiarly deep affection. Elizabeth, though clever, was retiring in disposition and always kept in the background, while Lucretia, who was high-spirited and wide awake, was inclined to take the lead among her companions. Throughout their lives, they remained devoted friends, and although Elizabeth could never be persuaded to take any part in public life, she counseled and advised her distinguished sister, who seldom took an important action without consulting her.
At this school, on the boys' side of the house, was an able young teacher named James Mott. It happened one day that a little boy, a cousin of James Mott, was punished by being confined in a dark closet, being allowed only bread and water for his supper. Lucretia, who thought the boy had not been at fault, managed to get some bread and butter to him. This act attracted the attention of James Mott to the girl, and afterward his sister Sarah, who also attended the school, became Lucretia's most intimate friend. During one of the vacations, Lucretia visited Sarah Mott and thus met the family into which she afterward married.
When fifteen years old, Lucretia became an assistant teacher in this school, at a salary of one hundred dollars a year. Her father, who thought women should be trained to usefulness, gave his consent to have Lucretia remain away from home for this extra year, which proved to be an eventful one for her. The two young teachers, James Mott and Lucretia Coffin found that they had many ideas in common. Both had the ability and both were desirous of gaining knowledge. They formed a French class and it was while studying together that their attachment began.
It was at this time, also, that Lucretia became impressed with the unequal condition of women as compared with that of men. She said:
"Learning that the charge for the tuition of girls was the same as that for boys and that when they became teachers, women received only half as much as men for their services, the injustice of this distinction was so apparent that I early resolved to claim for myself all that an impartial Creator had bestowed." She little thought at the time what an important part she would play in supporting that claim.
While the two sisters were at school, their father gave up his business in Boston and took charge of a factory in Philadelphia, where Lucretia and Elizabeth joined him in 1810. Soon after, James Mott resigned his position as a teacher and followed them to Philadelphia, entering business life. In a short time, he and Lucretia became engaged. These two young people were just different enough to live in harmony together.
Lucretia was a bright, active, and very pretty girl, quick to understand and quick to execute,—qualities that often made her impatient with the slowness or stupidity of others. She was fond of a joke, too.
James, on the other hand, was quiet, reserved, and shy, taking serious views of life. In 1811, they were married according to Quaker rites. Then began one of the happiest of wedded lives,—and in spite of privations, for James Mott always found it difficult to support his family.
When Lucretia's father died, leaving her mother with three children to support, the Motts did all they could to help her. Lucretia opened a school for the purpose, and soon afterward her husband's business ventures prospered, so that he, too, could assist.
Just as their prospects were brightening, however, there came a severe blow in the death of their only son. Lucretia then gave up teaching and spent a great deal of time in the study of the Bible and of theology. She used to read William Penn, Dean Stanley, and John Stuart Mill with her baby on her knee.
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 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 around 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 a doubt, she was one of the most prominent persons present at this meeting. She, if anyone, should have been allowed to speak on 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, in July 1848, the rights of women to the ballot and their equality with the 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 someone 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.
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