No battle but we’ll fight it.”
At Belfast the ladies had turned the Unitarian Church into a bower of beauty with potted plants in every window, the national colors in great folds above the people’s heads, mottoes in profusion, and on a table below the tall, old fashioned pulpit they had placed a veritable ballot box, borrowed from the town clerk, and poised over it a snow white dove with a “Yes” ballot in its beak. When I saw that latest “witty invention” of the unrepresented class it seemed to me pathetic beyond words, and so eloquent that no matter how spent might be the arrow of my speech, the voters must give heed to its appeal.
Thus gently and patiently wrought the W. C. T. U. of Maine under its beloved leader, Mrs. L. M. N. Stevens, of Portland, who has been for years the foremost temperance figure in the state, except Neal Dow, and whose mingled strength and gentleness outrank that famous leader in the people’s heart. Four days prior to the voting Mrs. Stevens presided over the annual convention of the W. C. T. U., held in the town of Gardiner, for the purpose of final and concerted action as to what should be done at the polls. Nothing proves more plainly the profound hold of the temperance reform upon the heart of woman, nor more surprisingly demonstrates the change in public sentiment, than the willingness of these conservative women of the church to go directly to the polls. At first they counseled with their western sisters who knew the methods pursued in Iowa, Ohio, and other states, but Mrs. Woodbridge suggested nothing beyond renting vacant rooms near the voting precincts, serving refreshments there, and giving out votes to those who passed that way. My own observations in Iowa were of similar character. I was in Marion, Iowa, on the 27th of June, 1882, their voting day, where an all day prayer meeting was held; the children marched and sang, the lunch was served, and out of nine hundred voters, eight hundred votes were cast for the amendment. But we women were like Mary’s little lamb, and “waited patiently about” till the voters came to lunch, though sending out the children with amendment ballots and bouquets. When these methods were suggested the ladies quietly said, “But the leading men in our towns think it important that we should see the votes go in, for they say ‘there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip’ in this matter, and our ‘Yes’ ballot might be cast aside when the men had left our presence.” It goes without saying that the western sisters did not discourage those brave women, but rejoiced in these modern Baraks who had said, “If thou wilt go with me I will go up,” and the brave Deborahs who had answered, “I will surely go with thee.”
Among the methods chosen was an address to the voters asking them to represent their home constituency, to be sent out just before the portentious September 8th, “a day for which all other days were made,” as it seemed to those earnest hearts. With this address plenty of “Yes” ballots were to be inclosed for the “vest pocket vote,” unknown to any save the man who casts it, is often a factor of power. Mrs. Woodbridge told the ladies that in Ohio they decorated tent, booth, or rooms of the W. C. T. U. with mottoes, and had prominently in view a large Bible, on a pulpit cushion, which, without preconcerted action, was almost always open to Isaiah v., with the passage marked: “Woe unto him that justifieth the wicked for a reward.”
A delegation of ladies came four hundred miles to attend this convention, from Aroostook county, which covers a larger area than the State of Massachusetts. The W. C. T. U. in that county has “conquered a peace,” and is the right arm of the enforcing power. They reported that one hundred Scandinavians had become naturalized for the express purpose of voting “Yes” on the prohibition amendment.
Among the resolutions passed by this convention was the following (an exact copy of the one adopted by our National W. C. T. U. at its last session): “Resolved, That we will lend our influence to that party, by whatever name called, which furnishes the best embodiment of prohibition principles, and will most surely protect our homes.” In the evening we had a meeting under the trees in the town park, where thousands congregated, and the full moon looked down on us, an emblem of the purity and elevation that characterize our cause. Though the street population was out in force, there was perfect quiet and decorum, and not one whiff of tobacco smoke sullied the pleasant air.
And now the fateful day wore on apace. Fortunately the Sabbath came just before, and representative clergymen of all denominations, including the Universalist and Catholic, Episcopal and Unitarian, had united to request that every pulpit should be a temperance Gatling gun that day, to send into the pews a steady fire of intelligent conviction. From the circular I take this sentence, which furnishes the key of the campaign everywhere: “One thing we very much desire: that there should come over our people next Sunday a deep and solemn feeling that this is God’s battle with sin.”
The waking thought of the white-ribbon host in Maine can readily be guessed: “God grant us good weather to-day.” What was that but another way of wishing for the best light on this last act of a great drama, only this was no mimic stage, but one on which the measureless hope and uplift of humanity were to be exhibited for all the world to see? Woman’s secret prayer was to be transmuted by spiritual alchemy into manhood’s sturdy resolve; the cherished hope of the gentle was to become the stern decision of the strong; the “cause” was to radiate out from temperance ministry and Band of Hope into the wide, free area of a mighty Commonwealth. Let me give from telegrams, letters, and newspapers, a few pulses out of the people’s heart that day soon after noon:
Portland, Me.
Be of good cheer, all goes well. My faith claims a majority of fifty thousand.