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

[151] acknowledge the equality and brotherhood of mankind. 4th. Retaliation, or the spirit of an abrogated code, ( “an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” ) in order to obtain redress for injuries committed against our persons or property, or friends or kindred. 5th. Self-Righteousness, or the belief that we are able to manage not only our own sins, but those of other men, by the aid of dungeons and gibbets, constables and sheriffs, judges and lawgivers, and thus work out the righteousness of God. 6th. Fanaticism, or the delusion that we are capable of governing ourselves and others, while we are rebels against God, and refuse to be crucified with Christ, that we may reign with him in his spiritual kingdom. 7th. Selfishness, or an unwillingness to jeopard reputation, property, personal security, life itself, for Christ's sake, in all cases whatsoever, at home or abroad, without having in reserve some constabulary force or posse comitatus, some military band, “armed and equipped as the law directs,” to aid us in arresting and punishing our enemies.

To those who might ask, Is not a despotic government better than anarchy? the editor would reply: ‘The question is an absurdity; for human society cannot live in a state of anarchy without rapidly annihilating itself. . . . So that it is idle to talk of a government ceasing to exist over a sinful people, for their very disobedience renders it necessary until they are willing to submit to Christ. What then? Shall we, as Christians, applaud and do homage to human government? or shall we not rather lay the axe at the root of the tree, and attempt to destroy both cause and effect together?’ Foolish are the speculations about the best form of human government: ‘What is government but the express image of the moral character of a people?’

The hand of Noyes was first made visible in the Liberator of July 28, when the editor reported his own¹ Fourth of July address before the Anti-Slavery Society of Providence (in the High-Street meeting-house). It was, he said, ‘somewhat peculiar, and couched in solemn language.’ In the course of it he had read an extract of a letter ‘from an esteemed friend, in which the following startling passage occurred: “My hope of the millen-”’