nothing upon my existence.
I am but as a drop in the ocean, which, if it be separated, cannot be missed.
My own faith is strong—my vision, clear—my consolation, great.
“Who art thou, O great mountain?
Before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain: and he shall bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace unto it.”
Towards the latter part of August the Board of Managers
of the New-England Anti-Slavery Society appointed Mr. Garrison
an agent ‘to deliver addresses, etc., for a period not exceeding three months,’ with compensation at the rate of one hundred dollars for that period, and his expenses.
In accordance with this commission he began a tour which embraced the central and eastern parts of Massachusetts
, the northern part of Rhode Island
, and Maine
—the last a region wholly new to him. In a series of letters to the Liberator
he described his experiences from week to1
Explaining at the outset his motives in going about, he placed first justice to himself:
My enemies have had a long indulgence, until they begin2 to think they are safe from retribution.
What libels have they not put forth, what caricatures have they not drawn, what calumnies have they not industriously propagated, from Maine to Missouri, respecting my motives and principles! . . . Such phrases as these—“the madman Garrison,” “the fanatic Garrison,” “the incendiary Garrison”—have extensively become as familiar as household words.
Nothing amuses me more than to witness the unaffected and agreeable surprise which many strangers manifest in their countenances on a personal introduction to myself.
They had almost imagined me to be in figure a monster of huge and horrid proportions; but now finding me decently made, without a single horn, they take me cordially by the hand, and acknowledge me “a marvellous proper man.”
An instance in point occurred at the house of the venerable Moses Brown
, in Providence
on Mr. Garrison
's return from the Philadelphia Convention