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Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 1, chapter 8 (search)
ir life. But, at the same time, they would fain walk on the road without being soiled by too close contact with the rough pioneers who threw it up. They are wise and honorable, and their silence is very expressive. When I speak of their eminent position and acknowledged ability, another thought strikes me. Who converted these men and their distinguished associates? It is said we have shown neither sagacity in plans, nor candor in discussion, nor ability. Who, then, or what, converted Burlingame and Wilson, Sumner and Adams, Palfrey and Mann, Chase and Hale, and Phillips and Giddings? Who taught the Christian Register, the Daily Advertiser, and that class of prints, that there were such things as a slave and a slaveholder in the land, and so gave them some more intelligent basis than their mere instincts to hate William Lloyd Garrison? [Shouts and laughter.] What magic wand was it whose touch made the toadying servility of the land start up the real demon that it was, and at the
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 1, chapter 16 (search)
tion of Mr. Appleton the most important that has taken place since the adoption of the Constitution. I observed, last summer, in the country, that the geese always bowed when they entered a barn, for fear of hitting their heads. [Laughter.] Mr. Burlingame needs no praise of mine. He stood, like Hancock and Adams, the representative of an idea, and the city that rejected him disgraced only herself. [Applause.] As an old English judge said of a sentence he blushed to declare, In this I seem to pronounce sentence not on the prisoner, but on the law itself. It is Boston, not Burlingame, that has cause to blush today. [Cheers.] I do not envy Mr. Appleton his seat. You remember Webster painted Washington leaning one great arm on Massachusetts, and the other on South Carolina. Methinks I see our merchant prince entering Congress. One hand rests familiarly on the shoulder of Beacon Street, the other on a cambric handkerchief, twice doubled, to save the possibility of his touching the