Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 2

Chapter 1: the Boston mob (second stage).—1835.

Be of good cheer. The Devil comes not out without much¹ tearing and rending and foaming at the mouth. With all my confidence in my abolition brothers and sisters, you are the only one on whom I entirely rely for pine-and-faggot virtue—not that I trust others less, but that I trust you more. The Southerners are mad past all precedent. The famous spouter, Governor Hamilton, is here, supposed for the countenancing and organizing of kidnappers and assassins. This is hardly credible, yet it is believed. The report now goes that $100,000 is the prize for Arthur Tappan's head, and that two vessels are in the offing to receive him.

Catch a fish before you cook it,
Said the learned Mother Glass.

On October 2, Mr. Garrison writes to G. W. Benson:

I have not got regulated yet, since my return from ² rusticating in the country, and I already begin to sigh for the quietude and (selfish ease will out) irresponsibleness of Friendship's Valley. . . . Boston is beginning to sink into apathy. The reaction has come rapidly, but we are trying to get the³ steam up again. We have held two public meetings, which were well attended, and all went off quietly.

And still the South awaited the sign that the North— that Boston—would not put her off with empty words.

The ‘vagabond’ Thompson, as the Boston Transcript⁴ called him—the ‘wandering insurrectionist’—first began after the Faneuil Hall meeting to experience the deadly hostility invoked against him there. From his peaceful labors in the ‘Old Colony’ and its vicinity, at⁵ the close of 1834, he had passed in January to Andover, where he had the ear of the theological and academical students; to Concord, Mass.; to various parts of Essex County, where the meeting-houses of Methodists, Baptists, Unitarians and Friends were opened to him. In the intervals of these excursions he spoke frequently in Boston. In February, accompanied by the Rev. Amos A. Phelps and by Henry Benson, he visited southern New Hampshire and Portland, Maine, still enjoying the hospitality of the churches and promoting new antislavery organizations. Thence he proceeded in the same month to New York, where he spoke for the first time since his arrival in America, in the Rev. Dr. Lansing's church, without molestation or disorder of any kind; in March, to Philadelphia, giving an address in the Reformed Presbyterian Church, after an introduction by David Paul Brown. Repairing to Boston for lectures and debates in the Anti-Slavery Rooms, he returned to New York in company with Mr. Garrison. In April he was again in Boston, using the only church open to him (the Methodist Church in Bennett Street) for a Fast-Day and other discourses, and a third time in New York, forming en route a female anti-slavery society in the [3] Providence Pine-Street Baptist Church; and then, once more with Messrs. Phelps and Benson for companions, he journeyed to Albany and Troy, where his success warranted a long sojourn. In the second week in May we find him attending the anniversary meetings of the American Anti-Slavery Society in New York, which were held in⁶ perfect security despite a placard intended to renew the scenes of October, 1833; in the last week, participating in the New England Anti-Slavery Convention in Boston, and, at the very close, holding in Julien Hall a debate⁷ with Gurley on the subject of colonization. His June campaign was made in the already well-worked field of Essex County, and thither he was recalled in July by the presence of Gurley in Andover. Nowhere had the interest and excitement produced by Mr. Thompson's eloquence been more intense, or the struggle severer, than on this occasion. But, though backed by Amos A. Phelps, he could not prevail against the alliance of Gurley with Professor Stuart to maintain the settled hostility of this theological centre.

The quiet temper of the public mind was destroyed as in an instant by the Charleston bonfire and its imitations at the North—the town meetings in Boston, New⁸ York, Philadelphia and elsewhere, all concentrating their indignation and malice on the ‘imported travelling incendiary.’ At a convention in Lynn on August 5, a stone meant for Mr. Thompson was thrown through the window and struck a lady in the audience. The next evening he lectured again, and was mobbed by three hundred disturbers, from whom he only escaped by accepting⁹ the escort of ladies.¹⁰ Unable to remain in New York, whither on the 12th he accompanied Mr. and Mrs. D. L. Child despite the remonstrances of his friends, his first test of the New England temper after the signal had been given from Faneuil Hall proved how much it had [4] changed for the worse towards himself. The attack on him at Concord (N. H.), on September 4, followed close upon the mobbing of Mr. May at Haverhill, Mass.; on September 17, the Brighton-Street gallows was set up before his late residence in Boston; on September 27, an¹¹ extraordinary onslaught was made on him in the rural village of Abington, Mass.

At this time, too, a stupid or wilful perversion, by an Andover student from the South, named Kaufman, of Mr. Thompson's remarks in a private discussion on slavery, added fuel to the flames of his persecution. He was accused of having said that the slave masters ought¹² to have their throats cut, and that the slaves should be taught so. What he was arguing was, that if it was ever right to rise forcibly against oppressors, the slaves had that right—a commonplace of anti-slavery doctrine, now become one of the axioms of the civilized world. Finally, a trumped — up affidavit before some American consul pretended that Thompson had, for felony, come¹³ near being transported to Botany Bay. So the uproar went on. Subscriptions to a fund for procuring the heads of Garrison, Thompson and Tappan were invited to be made at a bookstore (!) in Norfolk, Va. Money rewards for the same object were offered from all parts of the South. Northern tradesmen were threatened with¹⁴ loss of Southern patronage, or with destruction of their Southern branch establishments, if they were known to be friendly to the abolitionists—if they did not come out against them—if abolitionists were permitted to hold meetings or publish papers in the town where the merchant did business.

This chord was as effectively touched in the case of Boston as of any commercial city, and ‘A Calm Appeal’ of the Richmond Enquirer ‘to put down forever these wanton fanatics,’ had the maddening influence which was calculated for it. This article, highly¹⁵ prophetic in its picture of a future civil war between the States, following Southern secession in defence of [5] slavery,¹⁶ warned the North against the slightest interference with that institution; urged total noninter-course, social or commercial, with the incendiaries; and inquired—

Why, above all, does not Massachusetts, with whom Virginia¹⁷ sympathized so keenly in the days of the Boston Port Bill, drive that audacious foreigner from her bosom who is so grossly abusing the rights of hospitality, to throw our country into confusion? It is outrageous enough for Tappan and for Garrison to be throwing firebrands into the South—but for that impertinent intruder, Thompson, to mingle in our institutions; for that foreigner, who has nothing American about him, in name, interest or principle —the outrage exceeds all the bounds of patience.

The Boston Commercial Gazette promptly caught up¹⁸ the proposal of non-intercourse with abolitionists. Still more promptly, the Boston Centinel declared that ¹⁹ Thompson would never be allowed to address another meeting in this country.

The Boston abolitionists had behaved during this trying season with circumspection. After the Faneuil Hall demonstration, Mayor Lyman had, in a courteous if not²⁰ friendly manner, privately counselled them to discontinue their meetings while the public mind was so heated, at the same time assuring them that he would protect them in their rights if they chose to exercise them. They in fact held only their constitutionally stated meetings, and it was one of these which fell due on Wednesday, October 14, the anniversary of the formation of the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society. Congress (formerly Julien) Hall was the place selected, and public notice was given in the papers and from several pulpits, including Dr. Channing's, in which the Rev. Henry Ware, Jr., happened to officiate.²¹ ‘Ladies generally’ were invited [6] to attend, and ladies only; and an address was promised from George Thompson.

The Commercial Gazette of Monday affected great ²² indignation at this simple announcement, wondering ‘that Thompson should dare to browbeat public opinion in this²³ way.’ Remarking on his habit of protecting himself with petticoats, it urged his being taught that a female²⁴ surrounding would no longer shield him from the consequences of his ‘reckless and wicked conduct.’ Faneuil Hall meetings will be of no use ‘if Thompson, Garrison, and their vile associates in this city are to be permitted to hold their meetings in the broad face of day, and to continue their denunciations against the planters of the South. They must be put down if we would preserve our consistency.’ Why does Thompson persist in ‘driving [our citizens] to acts of lawless violence?’ Predicting trouble on Wednesday, the Gazette added: ‘This resistance will not come from a rabble, but from men of property and standing, who have a large interest at stake in this community, and who are determined, let the consequences be what they may, to put a stop to the impudent, bullying conduct of the foreign vagrant, Thompson, and his associates in mischief.’ The Gazette warned ladies to keep away from the tumult, and threatened that if Thompson appeared he should be lynched.

Such a menace naturally alarmed the proprietor and the lessee of Congress Hall, and, explicitly adopting the Gazette's view of the respectable character of the mob, they required heavy bonds against possible damages in²⁵ case of a riot. As this hall was the only one procurable, the Society gave notice on the appointed day that the meeting would be postponed. The Courier, however, on the morning of the 14th, aggravated the criminality of²⁶ the Gazette by a fresh incitement to violence, under pretence of diverting indignation from the ‘scoundrel’ and ‘vagabond’ Thompson to ‘our own citizens who associate with him.’ ‘He is paid for his services, and is [7] only fulfilling his part of a contract. . . The poor devil must live.’²⁷

This prepared the disorderly to place credence in false announcements, posted at Congress Hall and elsewhere, to the effect that the ladies were actually in session, and Thompson speaking, at Ritchie Hall. By a coincidence the Ladies' Moral Reform Society was assembled there, ²⁸ and the crowd of ‘patriotic citizens’ misled thither persisted in identifying it with the obnoxious organization; besieging the doors and stairway and demanding Thompson, till dispersed by the arrival of the Mayor. The Gazette, however, treated the affair as a successful attempt to suppress Thompson, and reported (from its inner consciousness) that on the Mayor's complaint he had been bound over to keep the peace, ‘though the “citizens generally” would like to use him up in some other way’; and (on the same authority) that rioters had followed him to Abington (October 15) in order to prevent his speaking there again. This hint was not taken, and Mr. Thompson was undisturbed by local or imported ruffianism.

The next advertisement of the meeting postponed from Congress Hall named as the appointed time Wednesday afternoon, October 21, at 3 o'clock, and the place the hall adjoining the Anti-Slavery Office at 46 Washington Street. ‘Several addresses’ were promised, but [8] no names were mentioned. Mr. Thompson's presence was not ‘deemed to be essential or expedient, either by²⁹ himself or the Society. He therefore left the city on Tuesday, that there might be no pretext for causing an interruption of the meeting on the ensuing day.’ On the morning of Wednesday Mr. Garrison attended Henry Benson to the cars for Providence, placing in his hands a letter addressed to George Benson, of which the following extracts were a part:

My health has been extremely good since I left Brooklyn,³⁰ for which, as well as for other mercies, continual gratitude is due to God. My mind is in a peaceful and happy frame; for faith, and hope, and love make it their abode. I desire to cease wholly from man, and to rely upon nothing but the promises of Him who cannot lie. . . .

The spirit of the Lord is now striving mightily with this nation, and the nation is striving as mightily to quench it; and in doing so, it is revealing to the eyes of an astonished world an amount of depravity and heathenism that makes the name of our Christianity a reproach. Nevertheless, let the worst appear; let not our sin be covered up; let the number of the rebels, and the extent of the rebellion, fully appear; let all that is dangerous, or hypocritical, or unjust among us be proclaimed upon the house-tops; and then the genuine disciples of Christ will be able skilfully and understandingly to carry on the war. A larger number than Gideon had is left to us, and the same omnipotent arm is ready to be bared in our defence.

On parting from his brother-in-law, Mr. Garrison proceeded to the Anti-Slavery Office, and in the course of the forenoon was visited by a deputy-marshal from the³¹ Mayor's office, to inquire whether Mr. Thompson was to³² address the meeting, or was in town. Mayor Lyman had the day before been petitioned by the occupants of stores in the neighborhood of 46 Washington Street to prevent the meeting, for fear of damage in case of a disturbance. The air was full of gathering violence, which the Mayor hoped to be able to draw off harmless³³ by the simple announcement to the mob that Thompson [9] was beyond their reach. Or, if such was not the fact, he wished to be prepared against an outbreak. Mr. Garrison, at first resenting the inquiry, finally assured³⁴ the deputy that Mr. Thompson was absent, and the Mayor ‘took, therefore, no other precaution than to have a small number of police officers assembled for the afternoon.’ Mr. Garrison, on his part, went to his home in Brighton Street, for an early dinner, at which a colored friend from Pittsburgh, Mr. John B. Vashon,³⁵ was his guest. If their talk turned upon the probability of disorder, the following anonymous warning addressed to the editor of the Liberator, and written in a bold hand, threw some light upon the question. The date of its reception cannot now be determined:

You are hereby notified to remove your office and not to³⁶ issue the paper any more. If it is issued again beware of yourself you will have a coat of tar and feathers and you will do well if you get your life saved. We shall have no mercy on you after this Notification Beware

thirty truckmen pr C. Adams secty.

Please show Mr Garrison and Thompson this.

In the meantime, about noon, this placard suddenly appeared upon the streets:³⁷

Thompson, the Abolitionist!!!

That infamous foreign scoundrel Thompson, will hold forth this afternoon, at the Liberator Office, No. 48 Washington Street. The present is a fair opportunity for the friends of the Union to snake Thompson out! It will be a contest between the Abolitionists and the friends of the Union. A purse of $100 has been raised by a number of patriotic citizens to reward the individual who shall first lay violent hands on Thompson, so that he may be brought to the tar-kettle before dark. Friends of the Union, be vigilant!

Boston, Wednesday, 12 o'clock.

The genesis of this murderous incentive is now, by the autographic confession of its author, traceable to the office and the editor of the Commercial Gazette. In a letter to a former apprentice, James L. Homer thus describes the circumstances under which the placard was got out—a relation which shows how natural it was for Mr. Garrison to be made (in Mr. Thompson's language) ‘the vicarious victim of that wrath which has been kindled by the “foreign emissary” ’:

The Gazette had been for a long time in the habit of³⁸ abusing the abolitionists, and especially their organ and its leader and director. It was, at times, particularly severe upon the Female Anti-Slavery Society, of which Mrs. Chapman, a very intelligent, respectable, and energetic lady, was one of the maina pillars. Indeed, I may say that she was a head and shoulders taller and stronger than any one of her associates in that Society. They had announced their annual meeting for the choice of officers, etc., on the afternoon of a certain day, at the Anti-Slavery Rooms, on Washington Street, near Cornhill. There was much feeling, and much indignation expressed, in private, among business men, in relation to the proposed meeting—the men thinking that women ought to be engaged in some better business than that of stirring up strife between the South and the North on this matter of slavery; that they ought to be at home, attending to their domestic concerns, instead of sowing the seeds of political discord in the Anti-Slavery Rooms. Many of “our first men” decided that the meeting should not be held, let the consequences be what they might!

On the morning of the day of the meeting, I was waited upon by a “committee of two” —Messrs. Isaac Stevens, now dead, and Isaac Means (who married old Tobias Lord's daughter), both merchants on Central Wharf³⁹—who requested me to write, print, and cause to be distributed an inflammatory handbill in relation to the meeting--“something that would wake up the populace”—and they would pay the expense. I complied, most cheerfully, as I considered it, at the moment, as merely a “business transaction,” and not dreaming that so light a flame would, in a few hours, produce so threatening a conflagration [11] in the breasts of the multitude! I wrote the handbill, as “fast as a horse could trot,” at the long desk in the counting-room, while the gentlemen looked over my shoulderst Having finished it and read it to the committee, they pronounced it “just the thing,” and left, ordering 500 copies of it. The handbill was short, was soon put in type,⁴⁰ and by one o'clock the copies had all been distributed—in the insurance offices, the reading-rooms, all along State Street, in the hotels, bar-rooms, etc.; and about one-third of the whole lot was scattered among mechanics at the North End, who were mightily taken with it, as the mob subsequently gave abundant proof. . . . Tom Withington and several of the younger apprentices⁴¹ distributed the handbills. The effect they produced you may remember. By three or four o'clock in the afternoon both sides of State Street, near the Old State House;⁴² Washington Street, from Joy's Building to Court Street; the bottom of the latter street up to the Court House, etc., were densely packed with an excited mob, who were determined that the meeting should not be held. There were present from six to ten thousand men,⁴³ including “many gentlemen of property and influence,” an expression I used the next day in the Gazette in an editorial describing the mob.

Such was the situation when Mr. Garrison arrived upon the scene, and his account of the sequel will now be given,⁴⁴ with such aids and checks as the best evidence permits. He had consented to address the meeting: ⁴⁵

As the meeting was to commence at 3 o'clock P. M., I went to the hall about twenty minutes before that time.⁴⁶ Perhaps a [12] hundred individuals had already gathered around the street door and opposite the building, and their number was rapidly augmenting. On ascending into the hall,⁴⁷ I found about fifteen or twenty ladies assembled,⁴⁸ sitting with cheerful countenances, and a crowd of noisy intruders (mostly young men) gazing upon them, through whom I urged my way with considerable difficulty. “That's Garrison,” was the exclamation of some of⁴⁹ these creatures, as I quietly took my seat. Perceiving that they had no intention of retiring, I went to them and calmly said— “Gentlemen, perhaps you are not aware that this is a meeting of the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society, called and intended exclusively for ladies, and those only who have been invited to address them. Understanding this fact, you will not be so rude or indecorous as to thrust your presence upon this meeting. If, gentlemen,” I pleasantly continued, “any of you are ladies—in disguise—why, only apprise me of the fact, give me your names, and I will introduce you to the rest of your sex, and you can take seats among them accordingly.” I then sat down, and, for a few moments, their conduct was more orderly. However, the stairway and upper door of the hall were soon densely filled with a brazen-faced crew, whose behavior grew more and more indecent and outrageous.⁵⁰ [13]

Perceiving that it would be impracticable for me, or any other person, to address the ladies; and believing, as I was the only male abolitionist in the hall, that my presence would serve as a pretext for the mob to annoy the meeting, I held a short colloquy with the excellent President of the Society, telling her that I would withdraw, unless she particularly desired me to stay. It was her earnest wish that I would retire, as well for⁵¹ my own safety as for the peace of the meeting. She assured me that the Society would resolutely but calmly proceed to the transaction of its business, and leave the issue with God. I left the hall accordingly, and would have left the building⁵² if the staircase had not been crowded to excess. This being impracticable, I retired into the Anti-Slavery Office, (which is separated from the hall by a board partition), accompanied by my friend Mr. Charles C. Burleigh.⁵³ It was deemed prudent to lock the door, to prevent the mob from rushing in and destroying our publications.⁵⁴

In the meantime, the crowd in the street had augmented from a hundred to thousands. The cry was for “Thompson! Thompson!” —but the Mayor had now arrived, and, addressing⁵⁵ the rioters, he assured them that Mr. Thompson was not in the city, and besought them to disperse.⁵⁶ As well might he have attempted to propitiate a troop of ravenous wolves. None went away—but the tumult continued momentarily to increase. It was apparent, therefore, that the hostility of the throng was not concentrated upon Mr. Thompson, but that it was as deadly against the Society and the Anti-Slavery cause.⁵⁷ This fact is [14] worthy of special note—for it incontestably proves that the object of the “respectable and influential” rioters was to put down the cause of emancipation, and that Mr. Thompson furnished merely a pretext for five thousand “gentlemen” to mob thirty Christian women! . . .

Notwithstanding the presence and frantic behavior of the rioters in the hall, the meeting of the Society was regularly called to order by the President. She then read a select and an exceedingly appropriate portion of Scripture, and offered up a fervent prayer to God for direction and succor, and the forgiveness of enemies and revilers. It was an awful, sublime and soul-thrilling scene—enough, one would suppose, to melt adamantine hearts, and make even fiends of darkness stagger and retreat. Indeed, the clear, untremulous tone of voice of that Christian heroine in prayer occasionally awed the ruffians into silence, and was distinctly heard⁵⁸ even in the midst of their hisses, threats, and curses—for they could not long silently endure the agony of conviction, and their conduct became furious. They now attempted to break down the partition, and partially succeeded—but the little band of females still maintained their ground unshrinkingly, and continued to transact their business.

An assault was now made upon the door of the office, the lower panel of which was instantly dashed to pieces. Stooping down, and glaring upon me as I sat at the desk,⁵⁹ writing an account of the riot to a distant friend, the ruffians cried out— “There he is! That's Garrison! Out with the scoundrel!” &c., &c. Turning to Mr. Burleigh, I said— “You may as well open the door, and let them come in and do their worst.” But he, with great presence of mind, went out, locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and by his admirable firmness succeeded in keeping the office safe.⁶⁰ [15]

Two or three constables having cleared the hall and staircase of the mob,⁶¹ the Mayor came in and ordered the ladies to desist, assuring them that he could not any longer guarantee protection⁶² if they did not take immediate advantage of the opportunity to retire from the building. Accordingly they adjourned, to meet at the house of one of their number [Mrs. Chapman's, at 11 West Street],⁶³ for the completion of their [16] business; but as they passed through the crowd they were greeted with taunts, hisses and cheers of mobocratic triumph, from “gentlemen of property and standing from all parts of the city.” ⁶⁴

Even their absence did not diminish the throng. Thompson was not there—the ladies were not there—but “ Garrison is there!” was the cry. “Garrison! Garrison! We must have Garrison! Out with him! Lynch him!” These and numberless other exclamations arose from the multitude. For a moment, their attention was diverted from me to the Anti-Slavery sign [‘ Anti-Slavery Rooms’], and they vociferously demanded its possession. It is painful to state that the Mayor promptly complied with their demand! So agitated and alarmed had he become that, in very weakness of spirit, he ordered the sign to be hurled to the ground,⁶⁵ and it was instantly [17] broken into a thousand fragments by the infuriated populace. O, lamentable departure from duty—O, shameful outrage upon private property—by one who had sworn, not to destroy but to protect property—not to pander to the lawless desires of a mob, however “wealthy and respectable,” but to preserve the public peace.

The act was wholly unjustifiable. The Mayor might have as lawfully surrendered me to the tender mercies of the mob, or ordered the building itself to be torn down, in order to propitiate them, as to remove that sign. Perhaps—nay, probably —he was actuated by kind intentions; probably he hoped that he should thereby satisfy the ravenous appetites of these human cormorants, and persuade them to retire; probably he trusted thus to extricate me from danger. But the sequel proved that he only gave a fresh stimulus to popular fury: and if he could have saved my life, or the whole city from destruction, by that single act, still he ought not to have obeyed the mandate of the mob—no indeed! He committed a public outrage in the presence of the lawless and disobedient, and thus strangely expected to procure obedience to and a respect for the law! He behaved disorderly before rebels that he might restore order among them! Mr. Henry Williams and Mr. John L. Dimmock also deserve severe reprehension for their forwardness in taking down the sign. The offence, under such circumstances, was very heinous. The value of the article destroyed was of no consequence; but the principle involved in its surrender and sacrifice is one upon which civil government, private property and individual liberty depend.⁶⁶ [18]

The sign being demolished, the cry for “Garrison!” was renewed, more loudly than ever. It was now apparent that the multitude would not disperse until I had left the building; and as egress out of the front door was impossible, the Mayor and his assistants, as well as some of my friends, earnestly besought me to effect my escape in the rear of the building.⁶⁷ At this juncture, an abolition brother whose mind had not been previously settled on the peace question, in his anguish and alarm for my safety, and in view of the helplessness of the civil authority, said— “I must henceforth repudiate the principle of non-resistance. When the civil arm is powerless, my own rights are trodden in the dust, and the lives of my friends are put in imminent peril by ruffians, I will hereafter prepare to defend myself and them at all hazards.” Putting my hand upon his shoulder, I said, “ Hold, my dear brother! You know not what spirit you are of. This is the trial of our faith, and the test of our endurance. Of what value or utility are the principles of peace and forgiveness, if we may repudiate them in the hour of peril and suffering? Do you wish to become like one of those violent and bloodthirsty men who are seeking my life? Shall we give blow for blow, and array sword against sword? God forbid! I will perish sooner than raise my hand against any man, even in self-defence, and let none of my friends resort to violence for my protection. If my life be taken, the cause of emancipation will not suffer. God reigns—his throne is undisturbed by this storm—he will make the wrath of man to praise him, and the remainder he will restrain—his omnipotence will at length be victorious.” ⁶⁸ [19]

A, Anti-slavery Office, Washington St. B, City Hall (old Statehouse). enlarged from Smith's Map of Boston, 1835.

[20]

Preceded by my faithful and beloved friend Mr. J——R——⁶⁹ C——, I dropped from a back window on to a shed, and narrowly escaped falling headlong to the ground. We entered into a carpenter's shop, through which we attempted to get into Wilson's Lane, but found our retreat cut off by the mob. They raised a shout as soon as we came in sight, but the workmen⁷⁰ promptly closed the door of the shop, kept them at bay for a time, and thus kindly afforded me an opportunity to find some other passage. I told Mr. C. it would be futile to attempt to escape—I would go out to the mob, and let them deal with me as they might elect; but he thought it was my duty to avoid them as long as possible. We then went up stairs, and, finding a vacancy in one corner of the room, I got into it, and he and a young lad piled up some boards in front of me to shield me from observation. In a few minutes several ruffians broke into the chamber, who seized Mr. C. in a rough manner, and led him out to the view of the mob, saying, “This is not Garrison, but Garrison's and Thompson's friend, and he says he knows where Garrison is, but won't tell.” Then a shout of exultation was raised by the mob, and what became of him I do not know; though, as I was immediately discovered, I presume he escaped without material injury.

On seeing me, three or four of the rioters, uttering a yell, furiously dragged me to the window,⁷¹ with the intention of hurling me from that height to the ground; but one of them relented and said— “Don't let us kill him outright.” So they drew me back, and coiled a rope about my body—probably to drag me through the streets.⁷² I bowed to the mob, and, requesting [21] them to wait patiently until I could descend, went down upon a ladder that was raised for that purpose. I fortunately extricated myself from the rope, and was seized by two or three powerful men, to whose firmness, policy and muscular energy I am probably indebted for my preservation.⁷³ They led me along bareheaded, (for I had lost my hat), through a mighty crowd, ever and anon shouting, “He shan't be hurt! You shan't hurt him! Don't hurt him! He is an American,” &c., &c. This seemed to excite sympathy among many in the crowd, and they reiterated the cry, “He shan't be hurt!” I was thus conducted through Wilson's Lane into State Street, in the rear of the City Hall, over the ground that was stained with the blood of the first martyrs in the cause of Liberty and Independence, by the memorable massacre of 1770—and upon which was proudly unfurled, only a few years since, with joyous acclamations, the beautiful banner presented to the gallant Poles by the young men of Boston! What a scandalous and revolting contrast! My offence was in pleading for Liberty—liberty for my enslaved countrymen, colored though they be—liberty of speech and of the press for all! And upon that “consecrated spot” I was made an [22] object of derision and scorn, and my body was denuded of a large portion of its covering, in the presence of thousands of my fellow-citizens! O, base degeneracy from their parentstock!⁷⁴ [23]

Orders were now given to carry me to the Mayor's office in the City Hall. As we approached the south door, the Mayor

City Hall, from the west end (Post-office). the door with the flight of steps is that by which Mr. Garrison was taken in. From Smith's Map of Boston, 1835.

attempted to protect me by his presence; but as he was unassisted by any show of authority or force, he was quickly thrust aside—and now came a tremendous rush on the part of the mob to prevent my entering the Hall. For a moment, the conflict was dubious—but my sturdy supporters carried me safely up to the Mayor's room.⁷⁵

Whatever those newspapers which were instrumental in stirring up the mob may report, throughout the whole of this trying scene I felt perfectly calm, nay, very happy. It seemed [24] to me that it was indeed a blessed privilege thus to suffer in the cause of Christ. Death did not present one repulsive feature. The promises of God sustained my soul, so that it was not only divested of fear, but ready to sing aloud for joy.

Having had my clothes [it was a bran-new suit] rent asunder, one individual kindly lent me a pair of pantaloons— another, a coat⁷⁶—a third, a stock—a fourth, a cap as a substitute for my lost hat. After a consultation of fifteen or twenty minutes, the Mayor and his advisers came to the singular conclusion, that the building would be endangered by my continuing in it,⁷⁷ and that the preservation of my life depended upon committing me to jail, ostensibly as a disturber of the peace!!⁷⁸ A hack was got in readiness at the door⁷⁹ to receive [25] me—and, supported by Sheriff Parkman and Ebenezer Bailey, Esq.⁸⁰ (the Mayor leading the way), I succeeded in getting into it without much difficulty, as I was not readily identified in my new garb. Now came a scene that baffles the power of description. As the ocean, lashed into fury by the spirit of the storm,

From the City Hall, State St., to the City jail, Leverett St. From Smith's Map of Boston, 1835.

[26] seeks to whelm the adventurous bark beneath its mountain waves—so did the mob, enraged by a series of disappointments, rush like a whirlwind upon the frail vehicle in which I sat, and endeavor to drag me out of it. Escape seemed a physical impossibility. They clung to the wheels—dashed open the doors—seized hold of the horses—and tried to upset the carriage.⁸¹ They were, however, vigorously repulsed by the police—a constable sprang in by my side—the doors were closed—and the driver, lustily using his whip upon the bodies of his horses and the heads of the rioters, happily made an opening through the crowd, and drove at a tremendous speed for Leverett Street. But many of the rioters followed even with superior swiftness, and repeatedly attempted to arrest the progress of the horses.⁸² To reach the jail by a direct course [27] was found impracticable; and after going in a circuitous direction,⁸³ and encountering many “hair-breadth 'scapes,” ⁸⁴we drove up to this new and last refuge of liberty and life, when another bold attempt was made to seize me by the mob—but in vain.⁸⁵ In a few moments I was locked up in a cell, safe from my persecutors, accompanied by two delightful associates, a good conscience and a cheerful mind. In the course of the evening, several of my friends⁸⁶ came to my grated window to sympathise and rejoice with me, with whom I held a pleasant conversation until the hour of retirement, when I threw myself upon my prison bed, and slept tranquilly during the night.⁸⁷ In the [28] morning I awoke quite refreshed, and, after eating an excellent breakfast furnished by the kindness of my keeper, I inscribed upon the walls of my cell the following items:

Wm. Lloyd Garrison was put into this cell on Wednesday afternoon, Oct. 21, 1835, to save him from the violence of a “respectable and influential” mob, who sought to destroy him for preaching the abominable and dangerous doctrine, that “all men are created equal,” and that all oppression is odious in the sight of God. “ Hail, Columbia!” Cheers for the Autocrat of Russia and the Sultan of Turkey!

Reader, let this inscription remain till the last slave in this despotic land be loosed from his fetters.⁸⁸

When peace within the bosom reigns,
     And conscience gives th' approving voice;
Though bound the human form in chains,
     Yet can the soul aloud rejoice.

'Tis true, my footsteps are confined—
     I cannot range beyond this cell;—
But what can circumscribe my mind?
     To chain the winds attempt as well!

Confine me as a prisoner—but bind me not as a slave.
Punish me as a criminal—but hold me not as a chattel.
Torture me as a man—but drive me not like a beast.
Doubt my sanity—but acknowledge my immortality.

In the course of the forenoon, after passing through the mockery of an examination, for form's sake, before Judge Whitman,⁸⁹ I was released from prison; but at the earnest solici- [29] tation of the city authorities, in order to tranquillize the public mind, I deemed it proper to leave the city for a few days, and accordingly took my departure, accompanied by Mrs. Garrison.⁹⁰

My thanks are due to Sheriff Parkman for various acts of politeness and kindness; as also to Sheriff Sumner,⁹¹ Mr. Coolidge, Mr. Andrews, and several other gentlemen.

I have been thus minute in describing the rise, progress and termination of this disgraceful riot, in order to prevent (or rather to correct) false representations and exaggerated reports respecting it and myself. It is proper to subjoin a few reflections.

1. The outrage was perpetrated in Boston—the Cradle of Liberty—the city of Hancock and Adams—the headquarters [30] of refinement, literature, intelligence, and religion! No comments can add to the infamy of this fact.

2. It was perpetrated in the open daylight of heaven, and was therefore most unblushing and daring in its features.

3. It was against the friends of human freedom—the liberty of speech—the right of association—and in support of the vilest slavery that ever cursed the world.

4. It was dastardly beyond precedent, as it was an assault of thousands upon a small body of helpless females. Charleston and New Orleans have never acted so brutally. Courageous cravens!

5. It was planned and executed, not by the rabble, or the workingmen, but by “gentlemen of property and standing from all parts of the city”—and now [October 25] that time has been afforded for reflection, it is still either openly justified or coldly disapproved by the “higher classes,” and exultation among them is general throughout the city. . . .

7. It is evidently winked at by the city authorities. No efforts have been made to arrest the leading rioters. The Mayor has made no public appeal to the citizens to preserve order; nor has he given any assurance that the right of free discussion shall be enjoyed without molestation; nor did he array any military force⁹² against the mob, or attempt to disperse them except by useless persuasion; on the contrary, he complied with their wishes in tearing down the anti-slavery sign. He was chairman, too, of the pro-slavery meeting in Faneuil Hall, at which Washington was cheered for being a slave-Holder! . . .

The conduct of Mayor Lyman on this occasion has now been honestly set forth. It was promptly arraigned in the Liberator by the Rev. Henry C. Wright,⁹³ and⁹⁴ [31] defended by Samuel E. Sewall (‘An Abolitionist’) and⁹⁵ ‘Another Abolitionist.’ It was reconsidered at great⁹⁶ length, and again condemned, by Mr. Garrison, who ⁹⁷ reluctantly entered into the discussion—‘lest the charge should be made that my ignominious treatment disqualified me from being an impartial reviewer.’ A generation later it was reviewed in a lecture delivered by Wendell Phillips in Boston, in November, 1869, out of which grew a newspaper controversy, and was thereupon summed up in a brochure (freely cited above) by the son⁹⁸ and namesake of Mayor Lyman, with the result, so far as Mr. Garrison was concerned, of finding him guilty of ingratitude and of a dishonorable change of feeling towards a benefactor. Mr. Garrison's allowances for Mayor Lyman, in the narrative just given, show that he did not impute to him motives inconsistent with a desire to preserve the peace and to save a citizen's life. He could not deny that (in the last instance) the Mayor had saved his life;⁹⁹ but then, he had thrice imperilled it—first, by lending his official weight to a mobocratic demonstration in Faneuil Hall; next, by counselling him to leave the anti-slavery building while besieged in front and rear by an eager mob; and then by taking him through the same mob, become still more desperate, a long distance to the city jail. Both the Mayor and his¹⁰⁰ son belittle the mob in view of its trifling damages to person and property, but insist on its fury as a ground of gratitude on Mr. Garrison's part, and of excuse for the Mayor's inability to meet it squarely, and his consequent resort to strategy, ending in the bouffe performance of committing the victim instead of the rioters.

The Boston of that day was, like many other American cities, proving that its municipal organization had not kept pace with the growth of population and with the increase of the dangerous elements of society; and there can be no doubt, as Mr. Theodore Lyman, Jr.,¹⁰¹ [32] shows, that the police force was miserably inadequate for an emergency like a riot. On the other hand, the city was still small enough to make the Mayor a wellknown figure, his office possessed much greater dignity, and his presence inspired much greater awe, than it does to-day. This, while it makes his part in removing the anti-slavery sign (accepting his own version of it) an indefensible encouragement to the mob, would also, it must be said, justly qualify any present estimate of his personal bravery. Comparison has pertinently been made with Mayor Eliot's quelling of the ferocious Broad-Street riot of June 11, 1837, between two fire-engine¹⁰² companies and the Irish, when missiles were flying, and personal intervention meant taking risks which Mayor Lyman had neither to encounter nor to fear.

As to calling out the military, the Mayor perhaps had no statute authority to do so;¹⁰³ and if he had, the militia was in the streets—a part of the mob—the thing to be put down.¹⁰⁴ Possibly the marines from the Charlestown Navy-Yard could have been got to guard the City Hall in defence of Federal property—the Post-office—as later they were available for escorting fugitive slaves southward past the same building; but this was before the days of telegraphs, and the consent of a pro-slavery Administration might have been necessary. It must, however, be remembered, that Mayor Lyman had every reason to expect, and ample warning to prepare for, a disturbance,¹⁰⁵ and that the handbill did not rouse him to [33] a proper sense of the situation. In this respect he did not do what he must have done had his own ‘class’ been in similar peril;¹⁰⁶ and he refused to the end, seeing his own class about him, to believe or pronounce it a¹⁰⁷ mob. He knew, indeed,—and it is no figure of speech to say so,—that he was in the midst of the adjourned Faneuil Hall meeting, and he ought to have been presiding over it, instead of ‘calling it to order.’ There is no pretence that he lost for a moment his sympathy with the pro-slavery animus of the mob, or that he had any loftier distress of mind than, ex officio, municipal disorder occasioned. He did no more for Mr. Garrison than he might have done for a murderer in danger of being lynched on the way to prison. The outrage on the right of free meeting and of free speech affected him so little that, as Mr. Garrison charged, he took no steps to bring the notorious instigators and ringleaders to trial, or proclaim his sense of the disgrace that had befallen the city.¹⁰⁸ His subsequent inaction, in short, naturally extinguished what dubious claim he had on Mr. Garrison's gratitude; and the more the editor of the Liberator reflected upon the Mayor's behavior, the graver seemed that officer's responsibility for an outbreak in which the personal adventure was inconsiderable in comparison with the public rights that were trodden under foot. [34]

Mayor Lyman may have been sincere, in offering, at the foot of the staircase in the City Hall, to lay down his life in maintenance of law and order. But the occasion and the opportunity for such a sacrifice were presented at an earlier stage of the trouble. To the mob's cry for Thompson, instead of answering in a feeble voice, ‘He is not here,’ the Mayor should have thundered, ‘And if he were here, he should remain and speak, as is his right.’ A dead body as the cost of that proclamation would have been worth many exculpatory volumes. The despised sign whose destruction he estimated in dollars and cents instead of in principles, was also a fit pretext for a magistrate's dying at his post. Finally, if the case had not, by these laches, grown too desperate, Mr. Garrison's right to remain in the building and be protected there furnished still another. But Mayor Lyman seems to have been profuse in declarations which, to use Mr. Garrison's words, in the sequel proved ‘mere ¹⁰⁹ declamation.’¹¹⁰

Law offices in abundance overlooked the scene of the mob; the legislators, in special session at the State House, —John G. Whittier among them,—hastened down to become spectators. Law was everywhere, but justice was fallen in the streets. Here and there a not hostile face was visible, like George B. Emerson's, whom Mrs. Chapman called to witness as she passed him in the throng. Wendell Phillips, commencing practice in his native city, and not versed, perhaps, in the riot statutes, wondered why his regiment was not called out. Henry I. Bowditch, who had only heard of Garrison, felt his gorge rise at the spectacle, and, meeting an alderman,¹¹¹ vented his indignation at the ‘worse than contemptible [35] mob that was going on,’ and offered his services as a volunteer to shoot the rioters down. ‘I found my city official quite cool, and he intimated that, though it was the¹¹² duty of the Mayor to put down the riot, the city government did not very much disapprove of the mob to put down such agitators as Garrison and those like him.’¹¹³ The editor of the New England Galaxy overheard a justice of the peace remark: ‘I hope they will catch him [Garrison] and tar-and-feather him; and though I would not assist, I can tell them five dollars are ready for the man that will do it.’

The ‘respectable’ press of Boston had but one voice on Thursday concerning the occurrences of the previous day.¹¹⁴ The Atlas (Webster Whig) charged the ¹¹⁵ abolitionists with the disturbance, while coyly repelling the imputation of having itself been mainly instrumental in getting it up—an ‘Atlas mob.’ The Mercantile Journal called for the prevention of anti-slavery meetings ‘by the strong arm of the law,’ seeing that they were ‘but¹¹⁶ the signal for the assemblage of a mob’; and would have Garrison and Thompson arrested as ‘disturbers of the peace and manufacturers of brawls and riots,’ and made ‘to give security in a large amount for their future good behavior.’ The Transcript congratulated¹¹⁷ the city on the absence from the mob ‘of what is called the rabble or canaille—the vicious dregs of society who, [36] in other populous cities, give terrific features to popular and excited assemblages.’ The Courier thought it a most shamefully good mob. The Daily Advertiser ¹¹⁸ ‘regarded the assemblage not so much as a riot, as the¹¹⁹ prevention of a riot. . . . We consider the whole transaction as the triumph of the law over lawless violence, and the love of order over an attempt to produce riot and confusion.’¹²⁰ The religious press, except the New England Spectator and Zion's Herald (Methodist), was in accord with the secular. The Christian Watchman (Baptist) pronounced the abolitionists equally ¹²¹ culpable with the mob. Tracy's Recorder (Congregationalist) said it was Mr. Garrison's ‘settled policy to provoke¹²² mobs as much as he can,’ and so ‘identify his cause with the cause of civil liberty,’ to the distress of worthy citizens thus forced to choose between him and the mob. The Christian Register (Unitarian) saw no adequate ¹²³ excuse for a mob in the meeting of ‘a few black and white ladies, in an hour of romance or revery,’ but rebuked them and their male associates for courting persecution. ‘As the friends of peace, they ought not to defy public opinion, however wrong.’

It was not otherwise with the most eminent professors and teachers of religion. Harriet Martineau, en route from Salem to Providence, had ‘passed through the mob some time after it had begun to assemble.’ Her ¹²⁴ fellow-passengers, connecting the well-dressed crowd with the adjacent Post-office, naturally ‘supposed it was a busy foreignpost day.’ At Providence the truth reached her:

President Wayland [of Brown University] agreed with me¹²⁵ at the time about the iniquitous and fatal character of the outrage; [37] but called on me, after a trip to Boston, to relieve my anxiety by the assurance that it was all right,—the mob having been entirely composed of gentlemen!¹²⁶ Professor Henry Ware, who did and said better things afterwards, told me that the plain truth was, the citizens did not choose to let such a man as Garrison live among them,—admitting that Garrison's¹²⁷ opinions on slavery were the only charge against him. Lawyers on that occasion defended a breach of the laws; ladies were sure that the gentlemen of Boston would do nothing improper; merchants thought the abolitionists were served quite right,—they were so troublesome to established routine; the clergy thought the subject so 'low that people of taste should not be compelled to hear anything about it; and even Judge¹²⁸ Story, when I asked him whether there was not a public prosecutor who might prosecute for the assault on Garrison, if the abolitionists did not, replied that he had given his advice (which had been formally asked) against any notice whatever being taken of the outrage,—the feeling being so strong against the discussion of slavery, and the rioters being so respectable in the city. These things I myself heard and saw, or I would not ask anybody to believe what I could hardly credit myself.

For the second time in the space of three months the editor of the Liberator was exiled from the city of his adoption, and driven from a home which would be his no more. The sequel will appear in the following extracts from private letters:

George Benson to George W. Benson.

Brooklyn, Conn., October 23, 1835.

¹²⁹ This day we unexpectedly but cheerfully welcomed the arrival of dear Helen and her husband. I thought Boston was the last place that would suffer a riotous mob to annihilate law, and I ardently hope that a reaction friendly to the cause of justice may yet appear in that city. . . . Garrison says when the outrageous multitude were thirsting for his blood, he felt calm [38] and composed. It must have been alarming to your dear sister. I am thankful to a kind Providence for their protection. . . . The Mayor of Boston was very friendly to Garrison.¹³⁰

George W. Benson to W. L. Garrison, at Brooklyn.

Providence, October 23, 1835.

¹³¹ I have just returned from Boston, where I went in pursuit of you. . . . I reached Boston at six o'clock, and drove directly to 23 Brighton Street, but found no admittance. From thence to Campbell's in Brattle Street, who accompanied me to Mr.¹³² Fuller's in Pitts Street. There I was informed for the first time¹³³ that you were probably where I started from. Here I passed the night. C. Burleigh called to see me. Everything was quiet except two or three alarms of fire. . . . This morning I arose at daylight, after having passed a sleepless night, my mind being too active for rest, and went forth into the city to look after friend Knapp. He was about the city yesterday, but I could not find him this morning. Three hands went to work early at the Liberator office, at his direction, but when I left at nine o'clock, he had not been in. They are determined to have the paper out in season.

I made Burleigh promise that he would write a true account¹³⁴ in general, leaving for you to give the particulars next week. I likewise saw Whittier, and made him promise to draw up an account of the affair, with an appeal to our fellow-countrymen, to be published immediately, and ordered three thousand copies for this vicinity. I further ordered one thousand copies of A. Grimkeas letter, with your introductory remarks, and your ¹³⁵ address published in the Liberator several weeks since, with your name appended, and Whittier's poetry on the times,¹³⁶ in a ¹³⁷ pamphlet form. I urged all our friends to redouble their exertions. They seemed well disposed to accept the advice, as nothing will now avail but thorough measures. Liberty or death. . . .

They all praised Sister Helen's firmness, or calmness, in Boston. Dear girl! she knows not what I felt for her. . . .

They considered all danger of further violence as past for the present.

[39]

Charles C. Burleigh to Henry E. Benson.

Boston, October 26, 1835.

¹³⁸ Everything is at present tranquil, and we hope will remain so. No injury has been done to us at the office, except the splitting down half the door and destroying the sign. We feel confident that the mob will be an advantage to our cause. Assurances come in to us from the country that it is benefiting us there; and even in the city, I think we have reason to believe it has made us friends. We stand erect as yet. Our friends are in good spirits, and some of them say it is the best anti-slavery meeting we have yet had in Boston.

The affairs of the Liberator are somewhat crippled, indeed, for on account of the excitement, and from apprehensions for their property, the owners of the building have notified Knapp to quit; and as he has no lease he must do so. He is somewhat perplexed to know what to do, or where to get another office, but perhaps he will give all necessary information respecting the Liberator affairs.

No disturbance took place after Garrison left, though we felt much apprehension that there would be. I kept myself at and about the office a considerable part of the evening, taking care not to be where I should attract notice to the office, but still keeping an eye to it myself. I removed the Liberator books and office books, and what little money we had, that night and the next; but since that time the city has worn so tranquil an aspect that I have not thought it worth while to take the trouble. We also took the precaution on Thursday to send off all the ‘Oasis’¹³⁹ to a place of safety, together with the greater part of our volumes and some of the pamphlets. We have a few volumes in the office, just to meet demands which may be made on us.

You may keep yourself perfectly quiet where you are, till you get ready to come back. As for Garrison, I do not know but he would be safe enough here in the daytime, but in truth I don't feel myself competent to give any opinion on that point. . . .

Garrison is insane, and Thompson has embarked for England. These are the current stories now. We have received no intelligence from Mr. May.¹⁴⁰ The Utica news you will find in¹⁴¹ [40] the Journal of Commerce, though that paper evidently gives a distorted account of the matter.¹⁴² It bears the stamp of inconsistency on its very face.

. . . We have not forgotten here, and do not mean to forget, Stanton's version of the Abolition Constitution:—Article first: All men are born free and equal. Article second: Stick and Hang.

Isaac Knapp to W. L. Garrison.

Boston, October 26, 1835.

¹⁴³ My heart is made glad by the receipt of your letter of the¹⁴⁴ 24th inst. Thanks be to God that you are now comparatively safe from the fury of a misguided and ferocious mob.

There has been no actual violence since you left. I have every reason, however, to believe that had you remained over Thursday night the house would have been attacked. The mobites, as you will perceive by all the papers of the city, with one exception,¹⁴⁵ are either directly or indirectly applauded for their outrages. They know that, so long as they confine their plunder and violence to the property and persons of antislavery men, they can act with perfect impunity. I say this in the fullest belief of its truth, and after having had an interview with the Mayor, Sheriff Parkman, and other civil officers. I most firmly believe it to be the determination of the authorities to use all their efforts to put down anti-slavery presses and anti-slavery discussions, rather than mobs. To effect their object, they magnify every danger and represent it to be impossible, should another disturbance occur, for them to have any power to prevent the mob from working their will in any way they may elect. As this fact becomes known to the public, now and then, there are individuals who boldly avow their determination to attend the next anti-slavery meeting fully equipped for military duty. These are not generally anti-slavery men, but men who cannot sacrifice their dearest rights without striking a blow.

Every demand against the Liberator, of course, is now rushing in. It is now in arrears to me $600, most of which I have borrowed from friends to meet current expenses. I am compelled to move this day, yet not a shelter can I obtain for love [41] to me, to the cause, or for money. The only alternative I have is to store the materials for a while, and get the paper set up in driblets, as I can, in other offices. This plan is very expensive, and I cannot stand under it long unless the friends will advance money.

Your landlord is apprehensive that his house will be destroyed, and wishes you would give it up. This I think is the best way you can do; and it should be done immediately, while he is in the mood. Let the furniture, &c., be carefully packed and stored forthwith.

By all means stay in Brooklyn, if your dear friends there will risk the calamities which sheltering you may bring upon them. Even if there were no personal danger here, the cause, I believe, will be benefited by your rusticating awhile. My kind regards and best love to all the friends in Brooklyn.

That the God of all will continue to you the light of his countenance and his guardian care, throughout all time, is my earnest prayer.

Affectionately, and ever your unwavering friend.

George W. Benson to Henry E. Benson.

Providence, October 26, 1835.

¹⁴⁶ I think Brother Garrison had better dispose of his house in Boston, store a part of his furniture in some place of safety, and make an arrangement to board in Brooklyn this winter, for which opinion there are several reasons: one is, he can edit his paper much better, not being liable to constant interruption. Again, . . . it would be much pleasanter for Sister Helen, and much cheaper for all excepting yourself and Brother Knapp.¹⁴⁷ . . .

There appears to my mind but one serious objection, and that is, that our opponents may say that he dares not return to Boston. That can be obviated, however, by his going there and spending several weeks, and after that going there occasionally, as his business or inclination may require. I do not believe that he would be in any danger of personal violence now or a few days hence. . . .

Tuesday, 27.—A Mr. Smith has just called to see me from Boston; says he wrote Brother Garrison yesterday, and that Sewall will write to-day. He represents everything as working [42] admirably for the cause in Boston; that it is perfectly safe for him to return immediately; that they shall be able to start a daily very soon, &c. Our friends are anxious that Garrison should return. . . .

Boat arrived from New York. Glorious news! A letter in the Commercial Advertiser (Col. Stone's), written by a man not an abolitionist, says the Convention assembled at Utica; organized by appointing a chairman and enrolling six hundred members. A constitution was adopted for a State Society,¹⁴⁸ when, being assailed by a mob, according to a previous understanding adjourned to Peterborough.¹⁴⁹ There an additional number of four hundred appeared and took their seats, making one thousand in all—the largest convention ever assembled in that State for any purpose whatever. Judge Jay was elected President. . . . Gerrit Smith made a speech of one hour and a half; said he had been the greatest obstacle in the way of abolition in that State, but that he was now thoroughly convinced and with them in the most odious features of their measures.

Samuel E. Sewall to W. L. Garrison.

Boston, October 27, 1835.

¹⁵⁰ I received your letter yesterday morning. I have very little time which I can well spare to answer it. I see no objection to your remaining at Brooklyn for the present, except that your friends here will be sorry not to see you. You will certainly have less interruption there in preparing matter for the paper. I believe you would be perfectly safe in Boston now, and might appear here in open daylight without molestation. Yet as Mrs. Garrison could not fail to be perpetually anxious on your account, if you should take up your residence here just now, it seems to me you had better stay where you are. Your life was undoubtedly in imminent peril last Wednesday, and your escape under all the circumstances was almost miraculous; yet I do not believe even then that the mob intended to murder you, though heaven only knows what would have been the consequences if you had remained in the hands of an exasperated and phrensied populace. They might have committed a crime which they would abhor in cooler moments, and of which a few hours before they would have felt themselves incapable. [43]

You have no doubt been informed that Mr. Knapp has been obliged to remove the presses, &c., from the Liberator office. He felt bound to Mr. Mussy to remove. It will be difficult for him to find another room to print the paper in. I have ¹⁵¹ recommended him to advertise for one, as the best mode of finding out if any place can be had. I trust there will not be even one week's interruption in the publication of the Liberator.

Thompson, you have probably heard, is at Isaac Winslow's in Danvers. Mrs. Chapman told me she saw him there. He was in fine spirits then, and nothing daunted. I should not think it safe for him to appear in Boston now. I still continue of the opinion I expressed when we had the meeting at my office, that Thompson ought to publish a statement of the material circumstances in relation to the charge brought¹⁵² against him. I think it would be believed, though I am far from supposing that it will do much towards allaying the public excitement against him.

The state of things here is lamentable. The most respectable people either openly justify or coldly disapprove the riot, while they are loud in their condemnation and abuse of the abolitionists, and especially of Thompson and Garrison, and the ladies who dared to hold a meeting in defiance of public opinion. The city authorities have not yet done anything in relation to the riot.¹⁵³ The general opinion of the abolitionists is, that some of the gentlemen who were most active in the mob ought to be prosecuted. This is my own opinion. I think nothing will do so much to prevent a repetition of these disgraceful proceedings as punishing a few reputable citizens. If such punishment can be inflicted, it will bring to their senses not only those who are punished, but many more who may feel that they deserve the same fate.

A public meeting such as you suggest would have a good effect if called by any persons but abolitionists. The editor of the Advocate has taken a manly stand on this subject, but I¹⁵⁴ do not believe there is virtue enough in the community to sustain him in the call for a public meeting.

If you continue at Brooklyn, I shall be always ready to aid Mr. Knapp as far as I can in the publication of the Liberator.

Remember me affectionately to Mrs. Garrison and her father and his family, with whom I am a little acquainted. I pray [44] that heaven may ever protect and guide you in all the difficulties to which your devoted services in the cause of humanity may expose you.

W. L. Garrison to Isaac Knapp.

Brooklyn, Conn., October 28, 1835.

¹⁵⁵ My dear partner in the Joys and honors of persecution:¹⁵⁶ I wrote a few hasty lines to you by yesterday's mail, stating that no intelligence had reached me from Boston since my departure. Last evening, however, I was overwhelmed with joy on receiving, by the kindness of Mr. Howard, a huge bundle of newspapers and a letter from you, and also one from friend Burleigh for brother Henry. I sat up till 2 o'clock this morning, devouring the contents of the whole mass, and went to bed without feeling any fatigue, and have risen this morning with a cheerful heart. I shall now be able to drive my editorial quill somewhat freely.

After perusing your affectionate letter, the Liberator of Saturday came next in course. It gave me unalloyed satisfaction, ¹⁵⁷ as I think it is one of the best numbers we have ever published. Friend Burleigh's article, respecting the riot, is most admirably and graphically written, and I have scarcely anything to add to it. However, as something on the subject will naturally be expected from my pen, I shall make a simple statement of my seizure, committal to jail, etc. Accordingly, I have commenced it, and now send you the introduction. Altogether, it is probable that it will be somewhat protracted, though I hope not tedious. I also send you, for conspicuous publication, the excellent letter written by dear Thompson, (of whom, by the¹⁵⁸ way, you write nothing), which may answer a good purpose for him at the present time.

It seems to me that my presence in Boston is indispensable, on many accounts. Something must be done to sustain the Liberator, immediately, or how can it survive beyond the present volume? Something must be done, too, respecting the case of bro. Thompson. Then, as I am to break up housekeeping, it is proper that I should be present to give directions with regard to the disposal of things. Besides, I do not wish the charge to be made, that I have been driven out of Boston and dare not return. Unless you and the friends interpose a positive veto, therefore, I shall probably be in Boston on Saturday evening, [45] via Worcester. Henry and sister Anna will reach the city¹⁵⁹ probably on Monday evening next.

Shall I come, or shall I not? I wish to be governed by your advice and the appearance of things in the city—but my desire is to be with you a few days.

If you see Mr. Vinal, tell him that I shall give up the lease immediately—i. e., as soon as I can remove my furniture. I dread to put up my things at auction, as the sacrifice must be great. But what else can I do?

You are right in surmising that there is a determination on the part of the city authorities to put down the anti-slavery cause in Boston, although they talk smoothly and make fair professions. They are not to be trusted. Old birds are not caught with chaff.

Probably you will be hindered in getting out the next Liberator, in consequence of being deprived of an office. Well, impossibilities must not be expected of us by our subscribers.

Give my very best thanks to friend Burleigh for his editorials, and ask him to write for this week's paper as much as he can until I get regulated.

Who wrote the Sonnet addressed to me? It is a fine one.¹⁶⁰

Write to me immediately, so that I may hear from you by Friday's mail and govern my course accordingly. I shall send you the rest of my story to-morrow. Make such selections as you think best. Publish as much of the Utica Convention and uproar as you deem interesting. [46] Has my lost hat yet been found? I left my cloak at the Anti-Slavery Office—is it safe? Do not suffer my anti-slavery articles, at home, to be scattered. Hope Whittier will write something apropos respecting the Boston riot. My Helen is in good health, and so am I.

W. L. Garrison to his wife.

Boston, November 4, 1835.

¹⁶¹ I seize my pen to inform you of my safe arrival in Boston, this evening—say, one hour ago. Of course, as it was somewhat dark when I arrived, it is not yet known by my mobocratic friends that I am here.

Father, I presume, will tell you, in his epistle, of the pleasant¹⁶² and comfortable ride that we had from Brooklyn to Providence. He seemed to be as little fatigued as myself at the end of the journey. We were both exceedingly disappointed at the absence of brother George. I saw, however, William Chace,¹⁶³ his father, Mr. Stanton, Mr. Goodell, and many other of our abolition brethren—and I need not add that we had a joyous meeting together. . . .

I rode to Boston in one of the open cars, filled with the ‘common people,’ and thus saved 50 cents—no trifling sum in these days of penury and persecution. I do not know that I was recognized on the way.

Instead of ordering the coachman to drive me to No. 23 Brighton Street, I thought it most prudent to be set down at Friend Fuller's. Was just in season to eat supper there, though¹⁶⁴ he and his wife had gone to Newton. After tea, friend Tillson took my arm, and we sallied out into the street—for my home, or rather the place that was once our home. But we took another route—for he communicated a secret to me—viz., that our noble and persecuted brother, George Thompson, was staying at Friend Southwick's,¹⁶⁵ (unknown even to the abolition friends generally), and thither we went to see him. Found him in good health and spirits. After mutual gratulations and a rapid conversation, though brief, I said, ‘Give me a sheet of paper, ink and a pen, for I must not fail to [47] send a line to my anxious wife by to-night's mail.’ Just at¹⁶⁶ that moment, Henry and friend Burleigh burst into the room,¹⁶⁷ and then Mrs. Grew, Miss Sullivan, and Miss Parker. What a collection of raving fanatics and dangerous incendiaries! A happy meeting this!

I have left them all below, for a few moments, to scribble these few imperfect and scarcely legible lines, which Henry will take to the post-office immediately.

Now, my dear wife, disburden your mind of uneasiness as much as possible, on my account. Be assured I will not needlessly run into danger, but shall use all proper precaution for my safety. I feel excellently well, both in body and mind. All the dear ladies, with Henry, Thompson, and Burleigh, send the best remembrances to you. Mr. Knapp I have not yet seen, but shall probably see him this evening. Do not yet know where I shall sleep to-night—probably here or at bro. Fuller's.

W. L. Garrison to his wife.

23 Brighton Street, Boston,¹⁶⁸ November 7, 1835.

You perceive that I write in the house that we fondly expected to call our home, in which we have spent so many happy hours, but which can be our home no longer. Everything looks, if possible, more than natural—at least seems dearer to me than ever. The carpets—tables—chairs—sofa—looking-glasses, &c., &c., seem almost to have found a tongue, to welcome my return, and to congratulate me upon my escape out of the jaws of the lion. The clock ticks an emphatical and sonorous welcome. As for puss, she finds it a difficult matter, with all her purring and playing, to express her joy. Then, to pass to the reception which I receive at the hands of my friends: it is so kind, and sympathetic, and joyful, that one might almost covet to be mobbed, to obtain such a return. One anonymous individual has made me a present of forty-five dollars,¹⁶⁹ which comes most seasonably.

I wrote to you on the evening of my arrival, at the house of my esteemed friend Southwick. That night I slept at home, in [48] our chamber—and as you were absent, I permitted puss to Occupy the outside of the bed, as a substitute. We reposed very lovingly until morning, without any alarm from mobs without, or disturbance from rats within. Mr. Knapp rose as regularly and as early to prepare breakfast as if he were hired ‘help,’ and, Henry completing the trio—nay, Mr. Burleigh¹⁷⁰ made a fourth companion—we sat down and partook of a very comfortable entertainment. . . .

Well, after breakfast on Thursday morning, I sallied out into the streets to see and to be seen—‘the observed of all observers,’ peradventure. After all, I did not prove to be so great a curiosity as I had anticipated: very few stared at me or seemed to know me, notwithstanding the previous exhibition of myself to four or five thousand ‘gentlemen of property and standing from all parts of the city.’ I went directly to the Anti-Slavery Rooms, (having no printing-office that I could first visit), and there busied myself some time in shaking hands with various friends, answering inquiries, and asking questions. In a short time, a long procession marched by the office, with a band of music in full blast, and followed by a squad of spectators; and what do you think they had with them? It was a large board, on which were drawn two figures, quite conspicuously—viz., George Thompson and a black woman. Over the head of Thompson were the words, ‘The Foreign Emissary’—and the black woman asking him, ‘When are we going to have another meeting, brother Thompson?’ It is fortunate, perhaps, that this company did not know that I was then in the Anti-Slavery Office—else they might have stopped in front of it, made a demonstration of contempt, and excited another uproar. In this shameless manner they paraded through the streets until they were satisfied, and then went out of the city to make a target of Mr. T. and his sable companion. The city authorities made not the slightest attempt to interfere. As it was possible that our house might be disturbed that night, I slept at Mr. Fuller's, ¹⁷¹ and last night at Mr. Southwick's; but everything has been¹⁷² perfectly quiet in the city—and although I have walked freely in all parts of Boston, yet no one has insulted me, or called for any manifestation of displeasure. Nay, many talk of putting me on the list of representatives to the Legislature, to be chosen on Monday next. There is a strong reaction already in our favor, and the news from the interior is most encouraging. . . .

Mr. Thompson will probably sail for England in the course of a fortnight—but this must be kept private. Mrs. T. is going [49] to make a visit to her sister in Baltimore, and will follow her husband in the course of a month or two. . . . Thus we are to lose our eloquent and devoted brother-but he will still labor for us in England. Heaven's choicest blessings go with him and his! It will be almost like tearing myself in twain when he departs. . . .

I have seen the Misses Weston,¹⁷³ and they speak of you in the kindest terms. On asking them where I could get a room to store our furniture, they said that they occupied a large house, with scarcely anything in it, and I might fill it if I chose. Accordingly I shall move the things there next week, excepting such as Henry and Knapp may want to furnish their room.

W. L. Garrison to his wife.

Boston, November 9, 1835.

¹⁷⁴ Yesterday (Sabbath) forenoon, I concluded not to go to church, because, to confess the truth, I had not replaced my torn pantaloons,¹⁷⁵ and as the weather was too warm to justify the wearing of a cloak. About eleven o'clock, one of Mrs. Southwick's daughters came down to our house, and gave me the startling information that my dear friend Thompson would leave the country in the course of an hour—that he was going to sail in a packet for St. John—and that he wished to see me¹⁷⁶ immediately. Of course, I went in all haste and with much [50] trepidation; for the idea of separating from him—perhaps till the close of life—filled my soul with anguish. I found his wife in tears. . . .

My heart swells with sorrow, my cheeks burn with indignation, when I think of the treatment which Thompson has received at the hands of the people of this country. If he were a murderer, or parricide, he could not be treated more shamefully than he has been. To think of his being in danger of assassination, even in broad daylight—nay, even in the streets of Boston! Shame—infamy upon the city! But I have no time to moralize—you will feel deeply, without the aid of my comments. Suffice it to say, Mr. Chapman took Mr. T. down¹⁷⁷ to the wharf in a carriage, saw him safely on board the packet, and the vessel move down the harbor. So we trust he is now on his way to a place of safety and rest. From St. John he will sail for England. Mr. Knapp will probably go down to him,¹⁷⁸ to convey his baggage safely.

Our election, to-day, has passed off quietly. Several votes have been cast for me, but how many is not yet known.¹⁷⁹ We¹⁸⁰ have not been disturbed at the house, and I walk through the city without receiving any insult. . . .

P. S. I am now at the house, and have broken open the letter to enjoin secrecy upon you and the rest of the family, respecting Thompson's departure. Here, in Boston, we shall say nothing about it, for the present. . . .

New subscribers to the Liberator still continue to come in— not less than a dozen to-day. Am much obliged to the mob.

W. L. Garrison to his wife.

Boston, November 14, 1835.

¹⁸¹ Well—I expected it. Expected what? Why, a gentle scolding for speaking of Mrs. Garrison's ‘delicate’ state of¹⁸² health, in the Liberator. My dear wife is much more sensitive than the Queen of England, in a matter like this. But necessity was laid upon me thus to write, in order to exculpate myself from the base charge of cowardice preferred against me by the newspaper press. I beg your pardon—or, rather, it is the duty of the mob to ask pardon of us both, for reducing us to such a dilemma. . . . [51]

Was ever married man more unfortunate with houses? Four times within sixteen months have I removed my furniture, and we have the authority of Benjamin Franklin for saying that three removals are as bad as a fire; so that I have one fire and a third! . . .

Our city is quiet enough. The piece in the Liberator, to-day,¹⁸³ respecting the Mayor,¹⁸⁴ will probably make some talk. The ladies¹⁸⁵ hold their meeting at Francis Jackson's house next week.

In the afternoon of the day appointed for this meeting, November 18, Mr. Garrison took the cars for Providence to rejoin his wife at Brooklyn. On the day following Thanksgiving he wrote to G. W. Benson:

A letter from friend Burleigh, at the Anti-Slavery Rooms,¹⁸⁶ informs me that letters had just been received from Henry and Thompson. Both arrived safely, and had good passages . . .¹⁸⁷ What a mighty void is created by the return of G. T.! It is¹⁸⁸ like the loss of a general to an army, whose presence gave inspiration and courage to the humblest soldier. Who now shall go forth to argue our cause in public with subtle sophists and insolent scoffers? It is true, we have the lion-hearted, invincible Weld, at the West, and our strong and indefatigable¹⁸⁹ brother Stanton in Rhode Island; but the withdrawal of¹⁹⁰ Thompson seems like the loss of many agents. . . .

By the way—looking at the thing in its true light, this custom of appointing one day in the year to be specially thankful for the good gifts of God is an absurdity, tending, I think, to keep up the notion that it is not very material whether we are particularly thankful, or not, during the remainder of the year. The appointment, too, of a thanksgiving by a civil officer is strictly a union of Church and State. I am growing more and more hostile to outward forms and ceremonies and observances, as a religious duty, and trust I am more and more appreciating the nature and enjoying the privileges of that liberty wherewith the obedient soul is made free. How can a people fast or be thankful at the bidding or request of any man or body of men? [52]

‘Gerrit Smith has at last waived all his scruples and joined our ranks. No doubt you have seen his letter in the Emancipator. You perceive he boggles a little at some of us and our measures, but never mind—he will soon be as rampant as any of us. We must remember that he has been our antagonist, and that he constituted one of the main pillars of the Colonization Society.¹⁹¹ Whether he has wholly swung clear of that Society does not appear; indeed, he does not allude to it. But as he declared in his speech at Peterboroa, that he could go with us even in our most odious sentiments, and as he has now connected himself with a Society which aims to destroy his long-cherished scheme, he must be strangely inconsistent if he can still support the Colonization Society. He certainly deserves much credit for the Christian manliness and magnanimity which he manifests in joining our ranks at this perilous crisis. So much for the mob at Utica!’

W. L. Garrison to Mary Benson, at Providence.

Brooklyn, November 27, 1835.

¹⁹² Much as my mind is absorbed in the anti-slavery cause, there are other great subjects that frequently occupy my thoughts, upon which much light remains to be thrown, and which are of the utmost importance to the temporal and eternal welfare of man. As to the Peace question, I am more and more convinced that it is the duty of the followers of Christ to suffer themselves to be defrauded, calumniated and barbarously treated, without resorting either to their own physical energies, or to the force of human law, for restitution or punishment. It is a difficult lesson to learn. . . .

Harriet Martineau, the distinguished authoress from ¹⁹³ England, has. . . . shown true moral courage in attending the meeting of the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society, and¹⁹⁴ avowing her approval of its principles.

W. L. Garrison to G. W. Benson, at Providence.

Brooklyn, November 30, 1835.

¹⁹⁵ The Liberator gets along tolerably well during my absence; but the proof-sheet is not read so critically as I could desire. [53] Typographical blunders meet my eye rather too frequently. But it is a blundering world. . . .

Accompanying this is an excellently written epistle, both as to its composition and its penmanship, from Rachel Robinson, wife of Rowland T. Robinson, of Ferrisburgh, Vt. . . . Not a particle of the productions of slave labor, whether it be rice, sugar, coffee, cotton, molasses, tobacco, or flour, is used in her family, and thus her practice corresponds admirably with her doctrine. But I cannot say that I have as yet arrived at clear satisfaction upon this point, so as to be able to meet the difficulties that cluster in our path.

Mr. Sabin has started the rumor that the Liberator is to be printed in this village! and considerable oppugnation has been manifested, it is said, on the part of the ‘friends of the Constitution.’ They will not have it here—not they! This is very amusing, and serves to lessen the amount of melancholy in our sombre world. Think you, the dignity and self-importance of little villages are behind those of great cities? I tell you, nay. Did not Canterbury take the lead? And did not New York, Philadelphia and Boston obsequiously follow?

You must not calculate upon my being present at your State Convention in February. A crisis comes at or about that time to me and mine, which is of too much importance to allow me to be absent. It relates, you know, to a question of domestic emancipation —and let the South interfere if it dare!

W. L. Garrison to Henry E. Benson, at Boston.

Brooklyn, December 5, 1835.

¹⁹⁶ Your safe arrival at Boston has removed a load of anxiety from all our minds, and filled us with joy . . . .

The Liberator was received yesterday, and its contents eagerly and critically perused. Bro. Thompson's farewell¹⁹⁷ letter is most happily conceived, and powerfully expressed, and well calculated to revive the hearts of our abolition brethren. With what alarm and fury will our enemies read his promise to expose their baseness and cruelty before the people of Great Britain-even to call them by name! He will hardly be safe from their murderous designs, even with the Atlantic rolling between. How earnestly do I desire that he may have a safe voyage, and that all those vitally important [54] materials which he has so industriously accumulated,¹⁹⁸ may also obtain a safe conveyance! . . .

How many new subscribers has the Liberator received since the riot up to the present time? and what is proposed as to its continuance another year? I wish it could be enlarged, safely— but it would be hazardous to make the experiment. The engraving we will lay aside, and substitute a plain head—The Liberator.¹⁹⁹ This alteration will admit of more reading in the paper. Let the present motto remain—we cannot have a better, although I made it. There's egotism for you!²⁰⁰

I long to hear that friend Knapp has succeeded in hiring a printing-office, especially as the year is so near its close; for I know it must be exceedingly vexatious to be under the necessity of resorting to other printing establishments.

I send a letter to your care for bro. H. C. Wright, which I wish him to receive as soon as convenient. He is a valuable acquisition to our cause—a fearless, uncompromising and zealous Christian.

It strengthens and animates me to hear that bro. Phelps is to²⁰¹ remain in Boston. You know how highly I appreciate his worth, and what unwavering confidence I place in his judgment, integrity and devotion. His presence, with bro. Wright's co-operation, will make my absence from the city more excusable . . . .

I perceive by the Christian Register that Dr. Channing has at last given publicity to his thoughts on slavery. Send me the work in the next bundle of papers, for I am anxious to review it. The extract from it in the Register is singularly weak and inconclusive—but I suppose it is the most rotten spot in the volume, else Prof. Willard would not have quoted it as the²⁰² soundest.

So, it seems, because I suffered a communication to go into the Liberator, reprimanding the Mayor for his pusillanimous conduct, our friend E. M. P. Wells²⁰³ has captiously ordered his paper to be stopped. Very well—‘Good-by.’ The pretext is most ridiculous. See what it is to have respect unto persons! Surely, ‘An Abolitionist’ and ‘Another Abolitionist’—two [55] against one—ought to atone for the essay of ‘Hancock.’ I am disgusted with this squeamish regard for Mr. Lyman, and think it very unwise, as well as positively criminal, for any to attempt to exonerate him from blame.

Ellis Gray Loring²⁰⁴ to W. L. Garrison, at Brooklyn.

Boston, Dec. 5, 1835.

I write you in behalf of Miss Susan Cabot, a sister of our friend Mrs. Follen, and a firm supporter of the abolition faith.²⁰⁵ She is about to pass some weeks in Philadelphia, and has a strong desire to become acquainted with Miss Grimke, who²⁰⁶ wrote the admired letter in the Liberator addressed to you. . . . ²⁰⁷

I have just read with intense interest Dr. Channing's tract on Slavery. It is the most elaborate work on the philosophy of Anti-Slavery I have ever seen, and appears most seasonably when iniquity is claiming to pass for an angel of light. I am grieved at some few censures of the abolitionists in it, put forth, I think, on insufficient grounds, but nineteen-twentieths of the book are sound in principle, and I will not grudgingly bestow my gratitude and praise for this splendid testimony to the truth.

You see, I presume, the storm of abuse which Miss Martineau has called on herself from the newspapers, for her independent conduct at the ladies' meeting. In addition to [56] this, she is beset in private, incessantly, to give some explanation, which may be published. She quietly replies that the facts do not admit of explanation: that if any one wishes to know what she said, and how she said it, he must look at ‘the perfectly faithful report’ in the Liberator. She says she spoke²⁰⁸ of her full agreement with the principles of the abolitionists, because she knew what they were; but that she did not know enough of their measures to venture to pronounce upon them. She feels evidently a very strong interest in the Anti-Slavery Society, though she has taken up Dr. Channing's notion (a mistaken one, I think) of the superiority of individual to associated action. On our corner-stone principles she is clear and strong. She believes in the propriety and duty of creating and exerting a moral influence against slavery, in the free States. She told me yesterday, that if she could control events in the U. S. she would emancipate immediately every slave in it. She goes even further than some of us, for she denies that the slaveholder has any right to claim compensation, if his slaves should be taken from him. (You know some of us think that he has a legal, not a moral right to regard the emancipation of his slaves as the taking away of property.) Respecting, as I do, Miss Martineau's profound judgment and wide information (second only to the truth and sweetness of her moral character), I am gratified at her adhering to immediate emancipation, as well in an economical as in a moral point of view.

Miss M. wishes to know you. She is to be at my house about Jan. 10th. I hope you will be in Boston at that time. What is the probable prospect?

W. L. Garrison to S. J. May, at Boston.

Brooklyn, Dec. 5, 1835.

I have just read the scandalous attack upon Miss Martineau, in Daily Advertiser, to which you refer in your letter. It will²⁰⁹ confirm her in the faith, for it is too passionate to convince or alarm a steadfast and enlightened mind like hers. To think that the Advertiser has at last become so vulgar and malignant as to quote with deference and strong approval the vile slang of the Courier and Enquirer! Mr. Hale has lately had a failure in his pecuniary matters, and he now seems to be zealous to become a bankrupt in his editorial character as soon as possible.²¹⁰ We ought not to be surprised, however, that the attendance of Miss Martineau at the anti-slavery meeting creates a stir among our opponents, for it is as if a thunderbolt had fallen upon their heads. I believe, could they have foreseen this event, to prevent its occurrence they would have permitted even George Thompson to address the ladies without interruption, and have chosen to sacrifice the honor and glory accruing from a mobocratic victory. It is thus that the wicked are taken in their own craftiness, and the counsels of the froward are carried headlong. Surely, it is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.

Well, it is announced that the great Dr. Channing has published his thoughts upon the subject of slavery! Of course, we must now all fall back, and ‘hide our diminished heads.’ The book I will not condemn until I peruse it; but I do not believe it is superior either in argument or eloquence to many of our own publications. However, I am heartily glad that he is now committed upon this subject; for, however cautiously and tenderly he may have handled it, if he does not soon have a Southern hornets' nest about his ears, then it will be because hornets have respect unto the persons of men! They will sting him unmercifully, and he will suffer greatly if he is not provided in advance with the genuine abolition panacea. . . .

If the extract from the work [in the Christian Register] be a fair sample of the whole of it, it is weak and incoherent enough—indeed, that alone is enough to spoil a good book, especially a book upon moral reform. The Doctor says there are slaveholders who ‘deserve great praise.’ Why? Because they profess to ‘deplore and abhor the institution.’ So did all the slaveholders until they were compelled to tear off their hypocritical mask; and now they go in a body—synods, presbyteries, and all—in open advocacy of the bloody system! But the Doctor's meritorious slaveholders ‘believe that partial emancipation, in the present condition of society, would bring unmixed evil on bond and free.’ So do all of them—slave-drivers, slave-traders, and slave-robbers! But these good souls further believe, that ‘they are bound to continue the relation [what a nice, soft term!] until it shall be dissolved by comprehensive [58] and systematic measures of the State’ ‘They are appalled by what seem to them the perils and difficulties of liberating multitudes, born and brought up to that condition’! Here is a mantle of charity(?) broad enough to cover the sin of the world. I hope uncommon pains will be taken by our abolition brethren to circulate large quantities of this week's Liberator before the types are distributed. Bro. Thompson's letter is full of the majesty of truth and the power of love. The defense of his character is most happily written, and together they ought to traverse the length and breadth of the land.

‘He has gone!’ wrote Mr. Garrison in the Liberator,²¹¹ of George Thompson's departure. ‘The paragon of modern eloquence—the benefactor of two nations— the universal philanthropist—the servant of God, and the friend of all mankind—is no longer in our midst. He has gone! But not to cease from his labors in the cause of mercy. He has a mighty work to perform in England. . . . It is by the pressure of public sentiment abroad, as well as at home, that the bloody system is to be tumbled into ruins.’ Only the lapse of years, in fact, could disclose the full import of that American mission which Mr. Garrison had instigated, and which, even had it ended here, must have been pronounced successful.²¹² The moral and material alliance with England, already ensured by his own visit to that country, was now, however, to be indissolubly cemented by Mr. Thompson's expulsion from the United States. In a parting letter to Henry C. Wright, dated St. John, N. B., November 25, 1835, the fugitive laid down the programme to be faithfully carried out in his native land:

In leaving America I consulted usefulness, not safety. ²¹³ Understand me. I believe my life was sought. I believe many were prepared to take it—many more prepared to rejoice over the deed; and I left your country under the conviction that I [59] could not go abroad without the almost certain prospect of death. But still, had there been reason to believe that by staying and falling on your soil, I should thereby have done the will of God, and the best thing to advance the cause, I trust I should not have hesitated to remain and be offered up. The finger of Providence seemed to point to Great Britain as a scene of labor not to be neglected for the problematical good which a longer continuance in the U. S. might effect. There was a field wide, open, secure, rich, waving already, white unto the harvest —the public in the fittest possible state to receive the information I had collected, and the appeals I was qualified to found upon that evidence. After viewing the matter deliberately, and I trust prayerfully, I came to the decision that the path of duty lay across the waters; and then, through the length and breadth of the kingdom, publishing everywhere the wrongs of the American slave, and calling upon man, woman and child to join in one united and overwhelming remonstrance against the unmatched wickedness of American slavery.

On this side, meantime, Mr. Thompson was leaving behind him an imposing number of anti-slavery societies almost called into being by his eloquence,²¹⁴ an increased zeal among those already existing, and the reputation (teste Peleg Sprague) of having given ‘their greatest²¹⁵ prevalence and intensity’ to the anti-slavery doctrines he had been invited to propagate.²¹⁶ Nowhere was the impression made by his year's labors more profound than at the South. From them Jefferson Davis dates the²¹⁷ ‘public agitation’ for abolition, and the deliberate attempt to dissolve the Union; and the author of a notable secession work²¹⁸ likewise declares Thompson to have been ‘the controlling spirit of this effort to array North and South on geographical lines,’ and renews the charge that he went about ‘repeating in conversation that “every slaveholder should have his throat cut.” ’ [60]

But, more than in all this, the significance of Mr. Thompson's experience is to be found in the demonstration which it afforded of Southern control over Northern liberties. None too soon it was discovered that this execrated Englishman's right to enjoy the immunities guaranteed, under the laws, to every inhabitant of the Union, could not be denied without involving the suppression of native freedom of speech, and the imperilling of every American's life who refused to be dumb on the subject of slavery. Mr. Garrison's vicarious suffering for his foreign colleague proved that the assault of slavery was directed not against individuals or against nationalities, but against rights the most lawful, the most sacred, the most indispensable. The liberties of the race at the North (at the South, after the ransacking of the mails with the connivance of the Federal Administration, they were completely extinguished) were now put upon the defensive in the persons of the despised abolitionists. The struggle for the next decade, whatever its phases, was to turn upon the right to speak and to publish. It was the necessary prelude to any attack upon slavery in its own domain, and had been foreseen by Mr. Garrison when he answered for himself the mocking question, ‘Why don't you go South?’ (after having been there), and went and set up his standard under the shadow of Bunker Hill. It was precipitated, as it deserved to be, by Mr. Thompson's coming to America; and the debt of gratitude the North owed him for his instrumentality in arousing it to a sense of its own servitude,²¹⁹ will only seem greater as time goes on. [61]

We return to Mr. Garrison's correspondence:^{220 221}

W. L. Garrison to Henry E. Benson, at Boston.

Brooklyn, December 10, 1835.

²²² I am glad that bro. Phelps is to labor for the regeneration of²²³ Connecticut. He is admirably qualified for the work in this State. True, it will be arduous—but what citadel of prejudice or oppression can withstand the artillery of truth, and ‘the sacramental host of God's elect’? . . .

I have read Channing's work. It abounds with useful truisms expressed in polished terms, but, as a whole, is an inflated, inconsistent and slanderous production. I would not give one dozen of Rankin's ‘Letters’ for one hundred copies²²⁴ of Channing's essay.

You must apprise me, without delay, of the result of the meeting respecting the Liberator. If my presence is indispensably necessary in Boston, I will go on immediately; but if not, I had rather not incur the loss of time and the cost of the journey, needlessly. . . .

I wish bro. Knapp to take special care of all the pieces I²²⁵ send, and make a choice selection from my selections. On the [62] first page of next paper, I wish him to put the extracts from McDuffie's Message²²⁶ and those of the other governors which accompany this. They form one complete picture.

Amos A. Phelps to W. L. Garrison, at Brooklyn.

Farmington, Conn., December 10, 1835.

²²⁷ I regretted exceedingly that I did not find you in Boston the other day, on several accounts. . . . And first, in reference to Dr. Channing's book. You have doubtless seen it before this, and very likely have begun to dissect it and to set Dr. C. over against Dr. C. Be this as it may, I hope you will take it in hand and give it a thorough review. Some of our good Unitarian friends, I think, are biassed in their judgment of it by their partialities for the Dr. They need to see the Dr. tested by an impartial and unbiassed pen. And I have another reason for saying the Dr. should be thus reviewed. On my return I called on Dr. [63] Hawes, Hartford, and found that he had come out as boldly on the subject, Thanksgiving Day, as he dare. He has since been requested to preach the sermon to the Free Church in Hartford. He told me [he] thought of drawing it up with more care, and, after preaching it there, give it to the public. I replied, I hoped he would if it was orthodox. He said, O yes, yes, he was true to the principles, but then he couldn't go exactly with all our movements; and intimated that he had taken some exceptions to them—just enough, to use his own expression, to ‘save his shins.’

The plain English of the whole of it, then, is this, that he— and he is but one of a hundred such —can't keep still any longer on the subject, but cannot bear to come out on the subject without taking sundry exceptions, just to ‘save their shins’ from the kicks we have had to take, as well as to seem to have some justification for their long and guilty silence. Winslow,²²⁸ I understand, is coming out also with his famous sermons. Others, I doubt not, will follow suit. In this state of things, it seems to me all-important that every such man who comes out should be reviewed without respect of his person; and where he is naked, let his nakedness be made visible. It is better to keep the rod over them, and make them hold still, than to have them come out mere go-betweenities. Still, while we show them no mercy, let us treat them with due respect, and acknowledge the good they say, and thank them for it, and at the same time make the public see how, by their contradictions, they eat and re-eat their own words. I intend, if Wright²²⁹ wishes it, to review Channing in the Quarterly Magazine.

W. L. Garrison to Henry E. Benson, at Boston.

Brooklyn, December 15, 1835.

²³⁰ The bundle of papers, via Worcester, was safely conveyed and put into my hands on Friday evening, and great was my²³¹ surprise, as well as pleasure, to receive a copy of the Liberator.²³² In my article on Mr. Cheever's sentence, you perceive I broached my ultra doctrines respecting reliance upon the civil arm and appeals to the law. Tracy will probably nibble at it,²³³ and perhaps start anew the cry of ‘French Jacobinism!’ but so be it. I am more and more convinced that the doctrine is inseparably connected with perfect Christian obedience.²³⁴

[64]

W. L. Garrison to Thomas Shipley, at Philadelphia.

Brooklyn, December 17, 1835.

²³⁵ Be assured that I am deeply affected in view of the sympathy and regard which some of my beloved friends in Philadelphia have recently manifested for me, especially on account²³⁶ of my ill-treatment by an infuriated mob, a few weeks since. Among their names I was truly gratified to see that of Thomas²³⁷ Shipley, whose labors in the cause of bleeding humanity have been so indefatigable, so disinterested, and, in a multitude of cases, so abundantly successful. I am young in the service, you are old; and if, since our acquaintance happily commenced, we have not always seen precisely alike as to the best mode of advancing the sacred cause of liberty, yet our principles have run pari passu, and our hearts beat spontaneously together.

It is cheering to see that the unsophisticated disciples of Christ, and the true friends of emancipation, are beginning to see and feel and act alike, as it respects both principles and measures. They would have coalesced much earlier, had the same horrible developments of Southern and Northern sentiments, which now affright them by their enormity, been made at an earlier period. Now that it is proclaimed from the high²³⁸ places of power, that ‘domestic slavery is the corner-stone of our republican edifice’; now that the punishment of death is denounced against those who shall plead for emancipation, whether immediate or ultimate; now that the ‘self-evident truths’ of the Declaration of Independence are religiously declared to be mere ‘rhetorical flourishes’; now that churches, and presbyteries, and synods are impiously voting that slavery²³⁹ is divinely sanctioned, and may properly be perpetuated; now [65] that no man, however venerable in years, or high in station, or estimable in character, can openly plead the cause of more than two millions of stolen men, women and children, without losing his reputation and subjecting himself to every species of insult, injury and peril; now that lawful and benevolent meetings are systematically broken up, or suppressed by mobs headed by ‘respectable’ and ‘honorable’ men; now that guiltless citizens are seized ruthlessly, and with perfect impunity tarred and feathered, or beaten with stripes, or driven away by force, or suspended upon gibbets, and that a tempting price is put upon the heads of others; and finally, now that there is a loud clamor for the passage of laws that shall deprive us of the liberty of speech and the liberty of the press;—I say, now that this is the state of the controversy, and this the condition of our country, and this the direful alternative that is presented to us, hereafter all ‘good men and true,’ all who fear God and hate covetousness, and all who love their country and their kind, will rally under a common standard, adopt common measures, and cherish common principles. . . .

I join with you in high commendation of the speech of Gerrit Smith before the Convention at Peterboroa. It will be preserved and read when monuments are crumbling into dust. . . .

Most cordially, too, do I agree with you in your views respecting the duty of procuring an amendment to our national Constitution—of that part of it, which is wet with human blood, which requires us to send back into bondage those who escape from the lash and the chain. It makes us as a people, and as a State, the abettors of human degradation and soul-murder; and shall we not, if possible, by a constitutional process, blot out that bloody stain? The course of events during the present session of Congress will undoubtedly indicate what steps we may wisely take upon this subject. . . .

It is quite refreshing to see Friend Lundy and the Genius of Universal Emancipation again in the field together. They are²⁴⁰ bullet-proof. Thou murderer Lynch, avaunt! . . .

Rev. Dr. Channing has just published a sort of Ishmaelitish work on slavery. He modestly asks us to give up our watchword ‘Immediate Emancipation,’ to disband our societies, and to keep our publications from the slaveholders! His book is an 18mo [full?] of contradictions, and contains some unmerited defamation of abolitionists, although he confesses he [66] has never attended one of their meetings nor heard one of their addresses! However, there are many eloquent and powerful passages in it.

W. L. Garrison to S. J. May, at Boston.

Brooklyn, December 26, 1835.

²⁴¹ As to-morrow is the Sabbath, I shall defer leaving for Boston until Monday, via Worcester. . . .

I am happy to learn that there is a disposition, on the part of the abolition brethren, to place the Liberator, if possible, in a better condition than it has been heretofore. Two or three things are certain. 1st. The debts of the Liberator ought to be liquidated. 2d. If they are not, it must of necessity be discontinued. 3d. The publishers are wholly unable to discharge the debts. Now it is for the friends of our cause to consider whether this is one of those cases in which it is a gospel duty to ‘bear one another's burdens.’ I presume if a frank statement, signed by a responsible committee, were drawn up and circulated among abolitionists in various parts of the country, the sum that is needed would readily be obtained. . . .

Whatever change is made, of course the feelings and desires of Mr. Knapp must be consulted as well as mine. Should he wish to contract for the printing of the paper, at the same rates as others print, he ought to have the preference.²⁴² I am inclined to think that our friends, wholly ignorant as they are, generally, respecting the losses and crosses of every newspaper concern, more or less, hardly do us justice as to our past management. I admit that we have not been methodical or sharp in keeping our accounts; but we suffer much more from the negligence of our subscribers than from our own. We have not squandered or misapplied, but, on the contrary, as a whole, been careful of our means. Recollect that we have passed through a struggle of five years. . . . Yet we are in arrears only about $2500. . . . How many religious and political papers have perished, (though supported by sectarian and political zeal), since we started the Liberator! . . .

I thank you for your hints respecting Dr. Channing. I mean to be only as severe as truth and justice require. His book, as a whole, I do not like: it is entirely destitute of magnanimity, [67] and it requires of us about as much, in fact, as do our Southern opponents. Probably I shall not commence my review until the second edition appears.

W. L. Garrison to his Wife, at Brooklyn.

Anti-Slavery Office, Boston,²⁴³ Monday evening, December 28, 1835.

Without accident or detention, I have safely arrived in Boston, having been only eight hours on the journey. . . . Dear brother Henry was at the depot, and clapped his hand²⁴⁴ upon my shoulder as soon as I put my foot upon the soil, giving me quite a brotherly welcome. We then rode to Miss Parker's²⁴⁵ (where I am to remain), and were just in season to take tea. ²⁴⁶ It was quite refreshing to see familiar faces once more. Mr.May and Mrs. May sat at my right hand, propounding many questions about the Brooklynites, to which I responded as rapidly as possible. As soon as I had finished my supper, I came down to the office, and having first chatted a little with brother Henry and friend Knapp, then read the last Liberator, I have²⁴⁷ now seized my pen to write to one who is dearer to me than any other earthly object. . . .

Brother Phelps has been mobbed in Farmington. A large²⁴⁸ brickbat was thrown through the window, almost with the velocity of a cannon-ball, and narrowly missed his head. Had it struck him, undoubtedly he would have been killed on the spot. He went on with his lecture, however, and told the people he would not cease to plead the cause of enslaved humanity in that place, until either mob law was put down, or he should fall a victim. The next evening his meeting was slightly disturbed, but the third evening he carried his point triumphantly. About twenty of the rioters have been arrested —all ‘men of cloth.’

Rev. Mr. Grosvenor has been mobbed in Worcester County.²⁴⁹

Charles Stuart has been mobbed in the western part of the State of New York. A brickbat struck him on the head, which made him senseless for a time; but as soon as he recovered, he began to plead for the suffering and dumb, until he was persuaded by a clergyman to desist.

Rev. George Storrs has been mobbed (according to law) in²⁵⁰ New Hampshire. In the midst of his prayer, he was arrested, and violently shaken, and carried before a justice of the peace as a [68] vagrant, idler, and disturber of the peace!! by gentlemen, too!! But they could find nothing against him legally, and so he was dismissed.

These shameful transactions will doubtless be multiplied, but our safety and strength lie in an omnipotent arm. ‘The Lord reigneth,’—we have no other, and desire no better consolation.

A sharp Review of Dr. Channing's book has just appeared,²⁵¹ said to be from the pen of James T. Austin, the famous Attorney-General in the case of Mr. Cheever. Of course I have²⁵² not had time to read it.

The anti-slavery debate in Congress²⁵³ continued five days! Mr. Slade, of Vermont,²⁵⁴ spoke nobly. They did not dare to reject the petitions, but laid them on the table. The Southerners were very fierce.

W. L. Garrison to his Wife, at Brooklyn.

Boston, December 30, 1835.

²⁵⁵ To-day has been the day for the Ladies' Fair²⁵⁶—but not so bright and fair out of doors as within doors. The Fair was held at the house of Mr. Chapman's father, in Chauncey Place,²⁵⁷ in two large rooms. Perhaps there were not quite so many things prepared as last year, but the assortment was nevertheless various. There were several tables, as usual, which were under the superintendence of the Misses Weston, the Misses Ammidon, Miss Paul, Miss Chapman, Mrs. Sargent (who, by the way, spoke in the kindest manner of you), and one or two other persons, whom I did not know. I bought a few things, and had one or two presents for Mrs. Garrison. The Fair will be continued to-morrow, but I do not think the proceeds will equal the sales of last year. Everything has been conducted in a pleasing manner. Friend Whittier's and Thompson's portraits²⁵⁸ [69] were hung up to observation—mine²⁵⁹ has gone on to Philadelphia to be engraved.

Henry, Knapp, and myself sleep (all in a row) in the office,²⁶⁰ in good style and fine fellowship-one of us upon a sofabed-stead, and two upon settees, which are not quite so soft, to be sure, as ours at Brooklyn. I have had invitations to stay with friends Fuller, Southwick, and Shattuck, and at Miss Parker's, but prefer to be independent.

The arrangements for the Liberator are not yet definitely made, but I think all past affairs will soon be settled.

Our friend Sewall's ‘intended,’ Miss Winslow, is now in the²⁶¹ city, and was at the Fair to-day, with two sparkling eyes and a pleasant countenance. How soon the marriage knot is to be tied, I cannot find out. Don't you think they are unwise not to hasten matters? . . .

This evening I took tea at Mr. Loring's. He has been ²⁶² somewhat ill, but is now better, though still feeble. His amiable wife was at the Fair, selling and buying, and giving away, with her characteristic assiduity and liberality. Both of them were very kind in their inquiries after my wife.

This forenoon bro. May and myself, by express invitation,²⁶³ visited Miss Martineau at Mr. Gannett's house. The ²⁶⁴ interview was very agreeable and satisfactory to me. She is a fine woman.

Miss Martineau's account of this interview is more circumstantial. In her “Retrospect of Western Travel,” ²⁶⁵ after saying that, ‘having heard every species of abuse of Garrison,’ she ought in fairness to see him, she continues:

I was staying at the house of a clergyman²⁶⁶ in Boston, when a note was brought in which told me that Mr. Garrison was in town, and would meet me at any hour, at any friend's house, the next day. My host arrived at a knowledge of the contents of the note quite against my will, and kindly insisted that Mr. Garrison should call on me at home. At ten o'clock he came, accompanied by his introducer. His aspect put to flight in an²⁶⁷ instant what prejudices his slanderers had raised in me. I was wholly taken by surprise. It was a countenance glowing with [70] health, and wholly expressive of purity, animation, and gentleness. I did not now wonder at the citizen who, seeing a print of Garrison at a shop window without a name to it, went in and²⁶⁸ bought it, and framed it as the most saintlike of countenances. The end of the story is, that when the citizen found whose portrait he had been hanging up in his parlor, he took the print out of the frame and huddled it away.

Garrison has a good deal of a Quaker air; and his speech is deliberate like a Quaker's, but gentle as a woman's. The only thing that I did not like was his excessive agitation when he came in, and his thanks to me for desiring to meet one so odious' as himself. I was, however, as I told him, nearly as odious as himself at that time; so it was fit that we should be acquainted. On mentioning afterward to his introducer my impression of something like a want of manliness in Garrison's agitation, he replied that I could not know what it was to be an object of insult and hatred to the whole of society for a series of years; that Garrison could bear what he met with from street to street, and from town to town; but that a kind look and shake of the hand from a stranger unmanned him for the moment. How little did the great man know our feelings towards him on our meeting; how we, who had done next to nothing, were looking up to him who is achieving the work of an age, and, as a stimulus, that of a nation!²⁶⁹

His conversation was more about peace principles than the great subject. It was of the most practical cast. Every conversation I had with him confirmed my opinion that sagacity is the most striking attribute of his conversation. It has none of the severity, the harshness, the bad taste of his writing; it is as gladsome as his countenance, and as gentle as his voice. Through the whole of his deportment breathes the evidence of a heart at ease; and this it is, I think, more than all his distinct claims, which attaches his personal friends to him with an almost idolatrous affection.

Miss Martineau's narrative has already slipt away from the first meeting and first impressions, but it is as well to dispose here of what follows, or most of it:

I do not pretend to like or to approve the tone of Garrison's²⁷⁰ printed censures. I could not use such language myself towards [71] any class of offenders, nor can I sympathize in its use by others. But it is only fair to mention that Garrison adopts it warily; and that I am persuaded that he is elevated above passion, and has no unrighteous anger to vent in harsh expressions. He considers his task to be the exposure of fallacy, the denunciation of hypocrisy, and the rebuke of selfish timidity. He is looked upon by those who defend him in this particular as holding the branding-iron; and it seems true enough that no one branded by Garrison ever recovers it. He gives his reasons for his severity with a calmness, meekness, and softness which contrast strongly with the subject of the discourse, and which convince the objector that there is principle at the bottom of the practice. . . .

He never speaks of himself or his persecutions unless compelled, and his child will never learn at home what a distinguished father he has. He will know him as the tenderest of parents before he becomes aware that he is a great hero. I found myself growing into a forgetfulness of the deliverer of a race in the friend of the fireside. One day, in Michigan, two friends (who happened to be abolitionists) and I were taking a drive with the Governor of the State, who was talking of some recent commotion on the slavery question. “What is Garrison like ” said he. “Ask Miss M.,” said one smiling friend: “Ask Miss M.,” said the other. I was asked accordingly; and my answer was, that I thought Garrison the most bewitching personage I had met in the United States. The impression cannot but be strengthened by his being made such a bugbear as he is; but the testimony of his personal friends, the closest watchers of his life, may safely be appealed to as to the charms of his domestic manners.

Garrison gayly promised me that he would come over whenever his work is done in the United States, that we may keep jubilee in London. I believe it would be safe to promise him a hundred thousand welcomes as warm as mine.

This engagement was punctually fulfilled on both sides. Meantime, nothing could have seemed more utopian. A full year before,—when as yet there was no Southern²⁷¹ panic over incendiary matter in the mails, no Charleston bonfire, no ‘well done!’ from the Postmaster-General, no slave-drivers' demand on the North, no truckling Faneuil Hall meeting, no State-Street mob,—Mr. Garrison, [72] still fancying himself a year older than he really²⁷² was, had composed this birthday sonnet:

Ye angels, and the spirits of the just!²⁷³
     Crown'd as ye are, and thron'd in royal state!
In full seraphic strains congratulate,
     Upon his waning years, a child of dust,
Who, as he fades, doth firmer find his trust
     In God—and holds the world at a mean rate,
But upon heaven puts a high estimate!
     This fills his soul with joy—that, with disgust.
The thirtieth round of my brief pilgrimage
     To-day is ended—'tis perchance the last
I shall complete upon this earthly stage;
     For toils increase, and perils thicken fast,
And mighty is the warfare that I wage:—
     Yet 'tis my foes, not I, that stand aghast!