Starting From Seneca Falls by Karen Schwabach

Author:Karen Schwabach [Schwabach, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780593125069
Goodreads: 48636143
Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers
Published: 2020-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

In the morning the sky was bright and clear. The storms had passed by to the north, and left Seneca Falls undrenched. There was a great fuss of getting ready for the first day of the first-ever women’s rights convention. There were books and papers to find, and sandwiches to be made and packed.

Mrs. Stanton’s sister Harriet Cady Eaton had arrived late the night before with her son, Daniel, who was about Bridie’s age.

Since men weren’t supposed to come to the first day of the convention, Frederick Douglass had gone off to visit friends and try to sell subscriptions to his newspaper. Mrs. Stanton had decreed that Daniel, at eleven, didn’t count as a man, and that he should come and so should Bridie, to hear the improving speeches and to understand the issues of the day.

Rose was at school. Mrs. Post had gone out early to visit an old friend. Mrs. Stanton, Mrs. Eaton, Daniel, and Bridie set out together. Everyone was laden with books and picnic baskets.

Daniel and Bridie followed behind, while the adults walked along and talked.

“What if no one comes?” said Mrs. Stanton.

“Someone’s bound to,” said Mrs. Eaton. “The notice was in all the papers.”

“I only sent it to the Courier.”

“But all the other papers picked it up. All the way to Rochester.”

Bridie was impressed. That message she’d carried, the one that Davey had set in type (except for the word Rights, which was Bridie’s) had gone out for miles and miles, starting from Seneca Falls.

“Well, someone is bound to show up, I suppose,” said Mrs. Stanton. “And what if it’s a crowd? I’ll have to speak in front of all of them. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You’re worried that no one will show up and you’re worried that everyone will show up,” said Mrs. Eaton, sounding amused.

“I’m as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Mrs. Stanton admitted.

They crossed the bridge and walked up the steep slope. As soon as they turned onto Fall Street, they saw the crowd.

From here, they could mostly see wide skirts and top hats.

Top hats?

“The men weren’t supposed to come today! It was in the notice! Men were only invited for the second day.”

“Calm down, Lizzie,” said Mrs. Eaton. “I’m sure if we—”

“Remember what happened in Philadelphia!”

“This is Seneca Falls,” said Mrs. Eaton.

“What happened in Philadelphia?” Bridie asked Daniel. He seemed like a bookish sort of boy who might know.

“A women’s anti-slavery society met, and some men came and attacked them and burned down the hall,” said Daniel.

“But they weren’t men in top hats, I’m sure,” said his mother, giving him a quelling glance.

They had reached the Wesleyan Chapel. Everyone was standing around, fanning themselves and looking far too warm in their wool and linen clothes—they must all be anti-slavery folks, Bridie thought, and was grateful for her cotton poorhouse dress.

Still, she’d never thought before about the cotton being grown by slaves.

“The door’s locked,” said a man.

There were a lot of men.

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