March 30, 1872
By Leigh Hunt
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace.
And saw within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold.
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered: "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote and vanished. The new night,
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed.
And lo! Ben Adhemís name led all the rest!
This brave little woman is indefatigably at work in all directions. Now in Boston in Music Hall, from there way down east, then on to Washington, thence to Pennsylvania, back to this city to address a crowd at the Academy of Music on the 20th upon the "Impending Revolution." What cares she for the critics who assail her or detractors who throw filth at her! She has thrown her whole soul into the cause she represents-the cause of humanity-and with a lofty serenity of soul and a courage that nothing can daunt, she walks steadily forward up on the path marked out for her by her invisible guides. Who can read her replies to her critics and assailants and not admire their spirit. Who can fail to see that she towers more than head and shoulders above them all. And she is rapidly being recognized, too, by the bravest and noblest of the land. We have seen letters of appreciation and encouragement written to this brave little woman by some of the foremost men and women of the times. She has no petty personal ambitions to serve. She is an enthusiast in the cause in which she has enlisted and were it to require tomorrow the sacrifice of her life, she would unhesitatingly give her body to the consuming fire of the martyrís stake, so entirely does she sink her own selfhood in the great interests of the cause she has at heart. Who can read her article in Woodhull & Claflin's Weekly for February 10th, entitled "Personal and Presidential" and her reply to Emma Hardinge Britten in the Banner of Light under the heading "Impersonal Reform," and not recognize the true spirit of the woman!
Toil on, brave and noble soul, and thou shalt surely win and enfranchised and redeemed thousands of thine own sex shall at no very distant day rise up and call thee blessed.
Mrs. Victoria WoodhullóMadam: How dare you give expression to your thoughts? Donít you know that you have no right to think, even, much less are you entitled to a place upon the rostrum at the Cooper Institute, where so many able as well as unable men have poured forth torrents of eloquence and floods of nonsense and uttered thoughts that thrilled the souls of those present with sensations of various kinds? You donít seem to know that it is your "duty to go to church" and listen to and believe all that the Rev. Mr. Fog tells you. . . . What business have you to think, then, and worse still, to utter aloud your thoughts. Such audacity! But you go farther, you not only presume to think and speak out in meeting, but you publish your thoughts. And worse still, you seem to think that you must tell the truth at all times about everything and everybody. It is clearly evident that you have learned nothing in this respect from the orators of the pulpit. Their profound discourses and deep down erudition and lofty flights of eloquence and lucid explanations of their several plans or conclusions, each clearly proving to his own satisfaction, if not conviction, that his is the "only" plan, or program, or arrangement, whereby it is possible to be saved, appears to have been lost upon your obstinate ears. You go away from church, madam, and so does Tennie C. Claflin with thoughts as free and boundless as the ocean. . . . But it is more than a waste of time to say anything more about it, for I presume you will both go on thinking for yourselves and talking for yourselves and publishing disagreeable facts, and unpalatable truths and startling theories which shake the nerves of the feeble-minded and make the strong man see stars. So no more from WILLIAM JONES.
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Webmaster's Note: Except for some headings, these are actual extracts from the Woodhull & Claflin's Weekly. Some spelling and punctuation has been changed. If an article was too long, some sentences were removed. Sentences or paragraphs that have been removed are indicated with the ellipsis (....)