Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 1

[370] stature, and condition of mankind. All these may exist, not only without injury, but with the highest possible advantage. But wherever they are made the boundaries of human disinterestedness, friendship, sympathy, honor, patriotism and love, they are as execrable and destructive as, otherwise, they are beautiful and preservative.

Nowhere, I am certain, will a more united response be given to these sentiments than in this Hall, and by those who are assembled on the present occasion. What exclamation have you put into the mouth of the African captive, kneeling in his chains with his face turned imploringly heavenward? It is this—the most touching, the most irresistible: “am I not A man and A brother?” Yes! though black as murky night— though born on a distant shore—though degraded, miserable, and enslaved—though ranked among the beasts of the field— still, “A man and A brother!” Noblest device of humanity! —Wherever, in all time, a human being pines in personal thraldom, the tones of that talismanic appeal uttered by him shall be swiftly borne by the winds of heaven over the whole earth, and stir up the humane, the brave, the honorable, the good, for his rescue; for the strife of freedom is no longer local, but blows are now struck for the redemption of the world. And glorious is the prospect before us. Wherever we turn our eyes, we see the earth quaking, and hear thunders uttering their voices. The genius of emancipation is visible in every clime, and at its trumpet-call the dead slaves of all nations are starting into life, shaking off the dust of the tomb, and presenting an immortal beauty through the power of a mighty resurrection.

Sir, I have crossed the Atlantic on an errand of mercy, to plead for perishing millions, and to discharge, in behalf of the abolitionists of the United States, a high moral obligation which is due to the British public. It would neither be modest nor proper for me, on this occasion, to make a parade of the sacrifices of time, of money, of health, or of labor, I have made, nor of the perils I have risked, or the persecution encountered, or the sufferings endured, since I first stood forth as the advocate of my enslaved countrymen,—not to banish them from their native land, nor to contend for their emancipation by a slow, imperceptible process, “half-way between now and never,” — but to demand their instant emancipation, and their recognition as brethren and countrymen. I shall make no such lachrymal display of my losses and crosses in this holy cause; although,