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Rumors of Sainthood: Sarah Shedd of Washington (cont.) Gathered in such large numbers, the young women made a striking collection in more ways than one. The poet John Greenleaf Whittier, then living in Lowell, was dazzled by the sudden influx from the countryside: "Acres of girlhood, beauty reckoned by the square rod .... the young, the graceful, the gay -- the flowers gathered from a thousand hillsides and green valleys of New England, fair unveiled Nuns of Industry, Sisters of Thrift, and are ye not also Sisters of Charity dispensing comfort and hope and happiness around many a hearthstone of your native hills ... ! Who shall sneer at your calling? Who shall count your vocation otherwise than noble and ennobling?"
There are letters from those times (not Sarah's) which testify to the high esprit de corps among these flowers from the hillsides, as they rapidly developed a new sense of companionship and community, the veterans helping the new girls adapt to factory work and city life. Almost all of them had come from strong communities, in which individuals, especially women, tended to be submerged. Although at Lowell the girls had more liberty (not much by today's standard), they tended again to submerge themselves in strongly bonded communities -- in the workplace, in the boarding house, in the many societies (literary, religious, social) which they formed. An early and vivid example is this: by the mid-1830s the women were united in believing that their hours were too long, the machines running too fast, and the operatives responsible for too many of them at once. What could be done? There was a protest, then the firing of a ringleader, then a bold solidarity march through the city by other mill workers, a workers rally and fiery speeches, finally a strike by more than 800 operatives. It was a brave and communal effort, but it soon fizzled. The women knew they could be dismissed for striking and be blacklisted, making them unemployable, yet in 1836 when the owners threatened a wage cut, there was a larger strike; and this time the united operatives got a few negative concessions: wages were not cut, machines were not speeded up. The owners found they were dealing with spunky farm women who had annoying habits of thinking for themselves, working together, believing in their rights as operatives. Later, the mill workers formed the Lowell Female Labor Reform Association, and 4,000 of them petitioned the Massachusetts legislature for a ten-hour day. Lowell's legislative representative opposed it, so the mill workers (who couldn't themselves vote, of course) lobbied the male voters and got him defeated in the next election. Still, the legislature as a whole was unmoved: there was no ten-hour law until 1874. Was Sarah Shedd involved in any of this? The records, which are slim enough, indicate that she was not among the ringleaders, but they don't tell us more; we have to guess from what we know of her character. After her death a friend wrote: "She was a good conversationalist, and when she spoke everyone listened .... Such a person would be at home with all intelligent and well-bred persons; and by them she was everywhere welcomed." Of course, she too would have found the work hours long and tedious, and the machines too many and too fast and too noisy, but from this personal testimony, and from others, which speak of her dignity and reserve, it appears that leading a raucous factory protest would not have been to her style. She was a more solitary person than that. An activist at that time and place had to have some real rebelliousness in her soul; it is unlikely that Sarah did. Surely she would have offered thoughtful and wise counsel to the agitators, and then probably retired to work on her next literary composition. Writing, rather than stoking up a labor protest rally, was the action that suited her temperament and talents. |
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