s,
But to flutter a brief moment here.
This doctrine of Jesus, as preached up by Paul,
If embraced in its spirit, will ruin us all.

--_Lords of Creation_.

On reading the "Pastoral Letter," our Quaker poet, John Greenleaf
Whittier, poured out his indignation on the New England clergy in
thrilling denunciations. Mr. Whittier early saw that woman's only
protection against religious and social tyranny, could be found in
political equality. In the midst of the fierce conflicts in the
Anti-Slavery Conventions of 1839 and '40, on the woman question _per
se_, Mr. Whittier remarked to Lucretia Mott, "_Give woman the right to
vote_, and you end all these persecutions by reform and church
organizations."

THE PASTORAL LETTER.

So, this is all--the utmost reach
Of priestly power the mind to fetter!
When laymen think--when women preach--
A war of words--a "Pastoral Letter!"
Now, shame upon ye, parish Popes!
Was it thus with those, your predecessors,
Who sealed with racks, and fire, and ropes
Their loving-kindness to transgressors?

A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull--
Alas! in hoof and horns and features,
How different is your Brookfield bull,
From him who bellows from St. Peter's!
Your pastoral rights and powers from harm,
Think ye, can words alone preserve them?
Your wiser fathers taught the arm
And sword of temporal power to serve them.

Oh, glorious days--when Church and State
Were wedded by your spiritual fathers!
And on submissive shoulders sat
Yours Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers.
No vile "itinerant" then could mar
The beauty of your tranquil Zion,
But at his peril of the scar
Of hangman's whip and branding-iron.

Then, wholesome laws relieved the Church
Of heretic and mischief-maker.
And priest and bailiff joined in search,
By turns, of Papist, witch, and Quaker!
The stocks were at each church's door,
The gallows stood on Boston Common,
A Papist's ears the pillory bore--
The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman!

Your fathers dealt not as ye deal
With "non-professing" frantic teachers;
They bored the tongue with red-hot steel,
And flayed the backs of "female preachers."
Old Newbury, had her fields a tongue,
And Salem's streets could tell their story,