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Henry Clay (search for this): chapter 5
ly, like Garrison, to the Colonisation Society, and had believed heartily in the future services to freedom of the then popular and always attractive statesman, Henry Clay. In June, 1834, however, he had become convinced that both Clay and the colonisation movement were in the wrong, although up to 1837, it seems, he wrote a privClay and the colonisation movement were in the wrong, although up to 1837, it seems, he wrote a private letter to Clay, urging him to come out against that whole enterprise. He received from Garrison, in 1833, an invitation to attend as a delegate the National Anti-slavery Convention, to be held in Philadelphia in December. In answer to this call, he wrote to Garrison from Haverhill, Nov. 11, 1831:-- Thy letter of the 5Clay, urging him to come out against that whole enterprise. He received from Garrison, in 1833, an invitation to attend as a delegate the National Anti-slavery Convention, to be held in Philadelphia in December. In answer to this call, he wrote to Garrison from Haverhill, Nov. 11, 1831:-- Thy letter of the 5th has been received. I long to go to Philadelphia, to urge upon the members of my Religious Society the duty of putting their shoulders to the workto make their solemn testimony against slavery visible over the whole land — to urge them by the holy memories of Woolman, and Benezet, and Tyson, to come up as of old to the standard
Joshua Coffin (search for this): chapter 5
earness and directness of his spiritual insight. Elizur Wright, the young professor of a Western college, who had lost his place by his bold advocacy of freedom, with a look of sharp concentration, in keeping with an intellect keen as a Damascus blade, closely watched the proceedings through his spectacles, opening his mouth only to speak directly to the purpose. ... In front of me, awakening pleasant associations of the old homestead in the Merrimac Valley, sat my first school-teacher, Joshua Coffin, the learned and worthy antiquarian and historian of Newbury. A few spectators, mostly of the Hicksite division of Friends, were present in broadbrims and plain bonnets. Works, VII. 176-78. He thus describes the closing words of this historic convention, at which the whole organized antislavery movement came into being:-- On the morning of the last day of our session, the Declaration, with its few verbal amendments, carefully engrossed on parchment, was brought before the conve
Elisha Tyson (search for this): chapter 5
on to attend as a delegate the National Anti-slavery Convention, to be held in Philadelphia in December. In answer to this call, he wrote to Garrison from Haverhill, Nov. 11, 1831:-- Thy letter of the 5th has been received. I long to go to Philadelphia, to urge upon the members of my Religious Society the duty of putting their shoulders to the workto make their solemn testimony against slavery visible over the whole land — to urge them by the holy memories of Woolman, and Benezet, and Tyson, to come up as of old to the standard of Divine Truth, though even the fires of another persecution should blaze around them. But the expenses of the journey will, I fear, be too much for me: as thee know, our farming business does not put much cash in our pockets. I am, however, greatly obliged to the Boston Y[oung] M[en's] Association for selecting me as one of their delegates. I do not know how it may be,--but whether I go or not, my best wishes and my warmest sympathies are with the
Elizur Wright (search for this): chapter 5
g as the Light within guided them, knew no fear, and shrank from no sacrifice. Braver man the world has not known. Beside him, differing in creed, but united with him in works of love and charity, sat Thomas Whitson, of the Hicksite school of Friends, fresh from his farm in Lancaster County, dressed in plainest homespun, his tall form surmounted by a shock of unkempt hair, the odd obliquity of his vision contrasting strongly with the clearness and directness of his spiritual insight. Elizur Wright, the young professor of a Western college, who had lost his place by his bold advocacy of freedom, with a look of sharp concentration, in keeping with an intellect keen as a Damascus blade, closely watched the proceedings through his spectacles, opening his mouth only to speak directly to the purpose. ... In front of me, awakening pleasant associations of the old homestead in the Merrimac Valley, sat my first school-teacher, Joshua Coffin, the learned and worthy antiquarian and historian
Maia (search for this): chapter 5
d it needed small effort of imagination to picture to oneself the breaking up of the convention and maltreatment of its members. This latter consideration I do not think weighed much with me, although I was better prepared for serious danger than for anything like personal indignity. I had read Governor Trumbull's description of the tarring and feathering of his hero, MacFingal, when, after the application of the melted tar, the feather-bed was ripped open and shaken over him, until Not Maia's son with wings for ears Such plumes about his visage wears, Nor Milton's six-wing'd angel gathers Such superfluity of feathers, and I confess I was quite unwilling to undergo a martyrdom which my best friends could scarcely refrain from laughing at. But a summons like that of Garrison's bugle-blast could scarcely be unheeded by me who from birth and education held fast the traditions of that earlier abolitionism which, under the lead of Benezet and Woolman, had effaced from the Society of F
Samuel E. Sewall (search for this): chapter 5
delphia? I wish I was certain of going with thee. At all events, do write immediately on receiving this, and tell me when thee shall start for the Quaker City. Garrison's life, I. 393-94. The obstacle being removed by the generosity of Samuel E. Sewall, afterward a lifelong colaborer with Whittier in the antislavery movement, the latter went to the convention, to which he was the youngest delegate. The party travelled in stage-coaches, and Whittier doubtless felt, as did the young Keats o gray twilight of a chill day of late November, forty years ago, a dear friend of mine residing in Boston made his appearance at the old farmhouse in East Haverhill. He had been deputed by the abolitionists of the city, William L. Garrison, Samuel E. Sewall, and others, to inform me of my appointment as a delegate to the Convention to be held in Philadelphia for the formation of an American Antislavery Society, and to urge upon me the necessity of my attendance. Few words of persuasion, howe
Thomas Shipley (search for this): chapter 5
ceptionally pure and large-hearted, so genial, tender, and loving, that he could be faithful to truth and duty without making an enemy. The deil wad look into his face And swear he could na wrang him. That tall, gaunt, swarthy man, erect, eagle-faced, upon whose somewhat martial figure the Quaker coat seemed a little out of place, was Lindley Coates, known in all eastern Pennsylvania as a stern enemy of slavery; that slight, eager man, intensely alive in every feature and gesture, was Thomas Shipley, who for thirty years had been the protector of the free coloured people of Philadelphia, and whose name was whispered reverently in the slave-cabins of Maryland as the friend of the black man--one of a class peculiar to old Quakerism, who, in doing what they felt to be a duty and walking as the Light within guided them, knew no fear, and shrank from no sacrifice. Braver man the world has not known. Beside him, differing in creed, but united with him in works of love and charity, sat
William L. Garrison (search for this): chapter 5
of feathers, and I confess I was quite unwilling to undergo a martyrdom which my best friends could scarcely refrain from laughing at. But a summons like that of Garrison's bugle-blast could scarcely be unheeded by me who from birth and education held fast the traditions of that earlier abolitionism which, under the lead of Benezehusiasm; all had the earnestness which might be expected of men engaged in an enterprise beset with difficulty, and perhaps peril. The fine intellectual head of Garrison, prematurely bald, was conspicuous; the sunny-faced young man at his side, in whom all the beatitudes seemed to find expression, was Samuel J. May, mingling in h reputation as a poet, made him quite a noticeable feature of the convention. Whittier was now enlisted for life in the antislavery body, and his feeling for Garrison reached its high-water mark at this convention; and is recorded in verses of which these are a part:-- To W. L. G. Champion of those who groan beneath Oppress
Lindley Coates (search for this): chapter 5
de, in whom all the beatitudes seemed to find expression, was Samuel J. May, mingling in his veins the best blood of the Sewalls and Quincys; a man so exceptionally pure and large-hearted, so genial, tender, and loving, that he could be faithful to truth and duty without making an enemy. The deil wad look into his face And swear he could na wrang him. That tall, gaunt, swarthy man, erect, eagle-faced, upon whose somewhat martial figure the Quaker coat seemed a little out of place, was Lindley Coates, known in all eastern Pennsylvania as a stern enemy of slavery; that slight, eager man, intensely alive in every feature and gesture, was Thomas Shipley, who for thirty years had been the protector of the free coloured people of Philadelphia, and whose name was whispered reverently in the slave-cabins of Maryland as the friend of the black man--one of a class peculiar to old Quakerism, who, in doing what they felt to be a duty and walking as the Light within guided them, knew no fear, an
John Trumbull (search for this): chapter 5
litionists were everywhere spoken against, their persons threatened, and in some instances a price set upon their heads by Southern legislatures. Pennsylvania was on the borders of slavery, and it needed small effort of imagination to picture to oneself the breaking up of the convention and maltreatment of its members. This latter consideration I do not think weighed much with me, although I was better prepared for serious danger than for anything like personal indignity. I had read Governor Trumbull's description of the tarring and feathering of his hero, MacFingal, when, after the application of the melted tar, the feather-bed was ripped open and shaken over him, until Not Maia's son with wings for ears Such plumes about his visage wears, Nor Milton's six-wing'd angel gathers Such superfluity of feathers, and I confess I was quite unwilling to undergo a martyrdom which my best friends could scarcely refrain from laughing at. But a summons like that of Garrison's bugle-blast c
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