Daniel Webster to Millard Fillmore, April 15, 1851

Marshfield, April 15, 1851.

MY DEAR SIR,—I was very glad to receive your letter last evening, and to learn that there was nothing occurring of particular urgency at Washington. Although the weather has been cold and wet, nearly all the time I have been here, yet, I leave with regret, and should be tempted to prolong my stay, if there were not to be an occasion likely to call me from Washington again, soon. About the 10th or 15th of May the important suit between the Methodist Church and the Methodist Church South, is to come on for argument in the circuit court of the United States in the city of New York. I have been long engaged in the cause, and drew the original bill in favor of the Church South. I have been in hopes that the parties would be satisfied that Mr. Lord should take my place, with Mr. Reverdy Johnson, but they are not so inclined. Recent occurrences, perhaps, have contributed to lead to an undue estimation of the probable value of my services on the occasion. The division between North and South, you know, took place on the slavery question.

A suit, equally old, and of a similar nature, is on my hands in Massachusetts, to be tried the middle of June. It is between the Old School Quakers, and the Hicksites, so called, and the question is, which party is entitled to the funds and property.

I hope nothing may occur rendering my attention to these two things inconsistent with my public duties.

In the present state of our military means, it is to be feared we shall have trouble with Indians in the southwest. And though it is our duty to do all we can, with the means in our hands, yet it is necessary to remember also that the government will be pressed to raise volunteers, mounted men, &c., by those who would like the employment and the pay. I take it that a mounted man on the frontiers is a person exceedingly well paid for doing very little.

I go to Boston to-morrow, and expect to meet the people in Faneuil Hall on Thursday.

I am not surprised at what you say about the course of Mr. ——— and his friends. They will probably attempt a denunciation of the compromise measures, in some way, but I think they will find themselves less strong than they imagine themselves to be. The case is a curious one. These gentlemen are willing and ready to express a hearty and conscientious approbation of, or at least acquiescence in, the compromise measures, provided only that certain office-holders be not disturbed. And, on the other hand, they are equally ready and willing to denounce these measures, heartily and conscientiously, if these office-holders should be disturbed.

I lament most deeply this schism among the New York Whigs, but I do not see how it could be avoided. At the same time, I think we have friends who are not only not discreet, but who attempt to use all their influence, whatever it is, to magnify themselves and to gain a triumph over their enemies. They wish to be the administration, at least, so far as New York is concerned. They require, in my opinion, sharp looking after.

I am, dear Sir, with true regard, always yours,

DAN'L WEBSTER.

SOURCE: Fletcher Webster, Editor, The Private Correspondence of Daniel Webster, Vol. 2, p. 428-9

Senator Charles Sumner to George Sumner, September 30, 1851

The field of our national politics is still shrouded in mist. Nobody can clearly discern the future. On the Whig side, Fillmore seems to me the most probable candidate; and on the Democratic side, Douglas. I have never thought Scott's chances good, while Webster's have always seemed insignificant. His course lately has been that of a madman. He declined to participate in any of the recent celebrations,¹ cherishing still a grudge because he was refused the use of Faneuil Hall. The mayor told me that Webster cut him dead, and also Alderman Rogers, when they met in the apartments of the President. The papers-two Hunkers — have hammered me for calling on the President.² It is shrewdly surmised that their rage came from spite at the peculiarly cordial reception which he gave me. Lord Elgin I liked much; he is a very pleasant and clever man, and everybody gave him the palm among the speakers. I was not present at the dinner, and did not hear him.

There is a lull now with regard to Cuba. The whole movement may have received an extinguisher for the present; but I think we shall hear of it when Congress meets, in a motion to purchase this possession of Spain. This question promises to enter into the next Presidential election. The outrages caused by the Fugitive Slave bill continue to harass the country. There will be no end to them until that bill becomes a dead letter. It is strange that men can be so hardened to violations of justice and humanity, as many are now, under the drill of party. Mr. Webster has done more than all others to break down the North; and yet he once said, in taunt at our tameness, “There is no North!” The mischief from his course is incalculable. His speech at the reception of the President was regarded—and I think justly—by many Englishmen as insulting.

Our State politics promise to be very exciting. There has been a prodigious pressure upon me to take the field; but thus far I have declined. Under present circumstances I do not see my way to speaking. I am unwilling to defend the coalition, as in so doing I shall seem to be defending my own election; and I do not wish to seem to pursue Winthrop. His defeat seems to me inevitable, though in a contest like the present there must be an allowance for accidents and for treachery.

_______________

¹ Railroad Jubilee, Sept. 15, 1851.

² September 17, in Boston, on the occasion of the Railroad Jubilee. Sumner, as already seen, had strongly condemned President Fillmore a year before for approving the Fugitive Slave bill.

SOURCE: Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and Letters of Charles Sumner, Vol. 3, p. 254-5

Speech of Samuel Gridley Howe, September 24, 1846

I have been requested, Fellow-citizens, as Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements for this meeting, to make a statement of the reasons for calling this meeting, and of the objects which it is proposed to attain; and I shall do so very briefly. A few weeks ago, there sailed from New Orleans a vessel belonging to this port, owned and manned by New England freemen, under the flag of our Union—the flag of the free. When she had been a week upon her voyage, and was beyond the jurisdiction of the laws of Louisiana, far out upon a broad and illimitable ocean, there was found secreted in her hold, a man lying naked upon the cargo, half suffocated by the hot and stifled air, and trembling with fear. He begged the sailors who found him not to betray him to the captain, for he had rather die than be discovered before he got to Boston. Poor fellow! he had heard of Boston; he had heard that there all men are free and equal;—he had seen the word Boston written on that ship, and he had said to himself—“I, too, am a man, and not a brute or a chattel, and if I can only once set my foot in that blessed city, my claims to human brotherhood will be admitted, and I shall be treated as a man and a brother,”—and he hid himself in the hold. Well, Sir, the knowledge of his being there could not long be kept from the captain, and he was dragged from his hot and close hiding-place, and brought upon deck. It was then seen that he was a familiar acquaintance,—a bright intelligent mulatto youth, who used to be sent by his master to sell milk on board; he had been a favorite, and every man, from the captain to the cabin-boy, used to have his jokes with “Joe.” They had treated him like a human being, could he expect they would ever help to send him into slavery like a brute?

And now what was to be done? Neither the captain nor any of his officers had been privy to his coming on board; they could not be convicted of the crime of wilfully aiding a brother man to escape from bondage; the man was to them as though he had been dropped from the clouds, or been picked up floating on a plank at sea; he was thrown, by the providence of God, upon their charity and humanity

But it was decided to send him back to New Orleans; to deliver him up to his old owner; and they looked long and eagerly for some ship that would take charge of him. None such, however, was found, and the “Ottoman” arrived safely in our harbor. The wish of the poor slave was gratified; his eyes were blessed with the sight of the promised land. He had been treated well for the most part, on board, could he doubt that the hearts of his captors had softened Can we suppose that sailors, so proverbial for their generous nature, could have been, of their own accord, the instruments of sending the poor fellow back I, for one, will not believe it.

But the captain communicated with his rich and respectable owners, men whom he was accustomed to honor and obey, and they decided that whether a human being or not, poor “Joe” must be sent back to bondage; they would not be a party, even against their will, to setting free a slave. (Loud cries of “Shame,” “Shame,” and “Let us know the name of the owner.”) The name of the firm is John H. Pearson & Co. (Repeated cries of “Shame,” “Shame,” “Shame.”). It was a dangerous business, this that they undertook; they did not fear to break the laws of God—to outrage the laws of humanity; but they did fear the laws of the Commonwealth, for those laws threatened the State's Prison to whoever should illegally imprison another. They knew that no person, except the owner of the runaway slave, or his agent, or a marshal of the United States, had any right to touch him; they were neither the one nor the other; and they therefore hid their victim upon an island in our harbor and detained him there.

But he escaped from their clutches; he fled to our city—to the city of his hopes—he was here in our very streets, fellow-citizens! he had gained an Asylum, he called on us for aid. Of old, there were temples so sacred that even a murderer who had taken refuge in them was free from pursuit; but no such temple did Boston offer to the hunted slave; he was pursued and siezed, and those of our wondering citizens who inquired what it all meant, were deceived by a lie about his being a thief, and he was dragged on board ship. But the news of this got abroad; legal warrants were at once procured; the shield of the habeas corpus was prepared to cover the fugitive; officers of justice were urged to the pursuit; the owner of the vessel was implored to give an order for the man's surrender, but all in vain. A vessel was found, bound for New Orleans, which would consent to be made a slave-ship of (Loud cries for the name of the ship.) The Niagara, belonging to the same owners, and on board of this ship the man was sent back, to receive the lash, and to wear the shackles, for his ill-starred attempt to be free, and to drag out all the days of his life, a degraded, wretched, and hopeless slave!

And now, fellow-citizens, how does all this differ from piracy and the slave-trade? The man was free—free at sea, free on shore; and it was only by a legal process that he could be arrested. He was siezed in our city; bound and carried into slavery by those who had no more right to do so than has the slave-trader to descend upon the coast of Guinea and carry off the inhabitants. All these facts are known and admitted; nay, they are defended by some who call themselves followers of Him who said, “As ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them;” they are defended, too, by some of those presses, whose editors arrogate to themselves the name of Watchmen on the towers of Liberty!

And now it will be asked,—it has been asked, tauntingly,–How can we help ourselves? What can this meeting do about it?

In reply, let me first state what it is not proposed to do about it. It is not proposed to move the public mind to any expression of indignation, much less to any acts of violence against the parties connected with the late outrage. As to the captain, it is probable that he was more sinned against than sinning. I am told that he is a kind, good man, in most of the relations of life, and that he was made a tool of Let him go and sin no more. As for the owners and their abettors—the men who used the wealth and influence which God gave them, to kidnap and enslave a fellow-man,—a poor, trembling, hunted wretch, who had fled to our shores for liberty and sought refuge in our borders—let them go too, their punishment will be dreadful enough without our adding to it. Indeed, I, for one, can say that I would rather be in the place of the victim whom they are at this moment sending away into bondage,_I would rather be in his place than in theirs: Aye! through the rest of my earthly life, I would rather be a driven slave upon a Louisiana plantation, than roll in their wealth and bear the burden of their guilt; and as for the life to come, if the police of those regions to which bad men go, be not as sleepy as the police of Boston, then, may the Lord have mercy upon their souls'

But, Mr. Chairman, again it is asked, “What shall we do?” Fellow-citizens, it is not a retrospective but a prospective action which this meeting proposes, and there are many ways in which good may be done, and harm prevented, some of which I hope will be proposed by those who may follow me, and who probably will be more accustomed to such meetings than I am. But first, let me answer some of the objections which have been urged by some of those gentlemen who have been invited to come up here to-night and help us, and have declined to do so. They say, “We must not interfere with the course of the law.” Sir, they know as well as we know, that if the law be the edge of the axe, that public opinion is the force that gives strength and weight to the blow.

Sir, we have tried the “let alone system" long enough ; we have a right to judge the future by the past, and we know that the law will not prevent such outrage in time to come, unless the officers of the law are driven by public opinion to do their duty. What has made the African slave-trade odious? Was it the law, or public opinion?

But, Sir, in order to test the strength of this objection, let us suppose that instead of the poor hunted mulatto, one of the clergymen of Boston had been carried off into slavery. Would the pulpit have been silent? Had one of our editors been carried away, would the press have been dumb Would there have been any want of glaring capitals and notes of exclamation? Suppose a lawyer had been kidnapped in his office, bound, and carried off to work on a slave plantation; would the limbs of the law have moved so lazily as they did week before last Or suppose a merchant had been torn from his counting-room in State street, and shipped for the slave-market of Tunis; would there not have been an excitement all over the city? Think you there would not have been “Indignation meetings” on “Change?”

And yet, Sir, are any of these men more precious in the sight of God than the poor mulattoo Or suppose a slave ship from the coast of Guinea, with her human cargo on board, had been driven by stress of weather into our port, and one of her victims had escaped to our shore, and been recaptured and carried off in the face of the whole community; would there have been any want of “indignation” then ? And, Sir, is there any difference, would it be a greater crime to carry such an one away, except that as this man had been once a slave, he might be made a slave again, that is, that two wrongs might make a right.

No, Mr. Chairman, these are not the true reasons. It is, Sir, that the “peculiar institution,” which has so long been brooding over this country like an incubus, has at last spread abroad her murky wings, and has covered us with her benumbing shadow. It has silenced the pulpit; it has muffled the press; its influence is everywhere. Court street, that can find a flaw in every indictment, and can cunningly devise ways to save the murderer from the gallows—Court street can find no way of escape for the poor slave; State street, that drank the blood of the martyrs of liberty, State street is deaf to the cry of the oppressed slave: the port of Boston, that has been shut up by a tyrant king as the dangerous haunt of freemen, the port of Boston has been opened for the slave-trader; for God's sake, Mr. Chairman, let us keep Faneuil Hall free. Let there be words of such potency spoken here this night as shall break the spell that is upon the community. Let us devise such means and measures as shall secure to every man who seeks refuge in our borders, all the liberties and all the rights which the law allows him.

Let us resolve that even if the slave-hunter comes to this city to seek his runaway victim, we will not lay our hands upon him, but we will fasten our eyes upon him, and will never take them off till he leaves our borders without his prey. Sir, there is a potency, a magic power, in the gaze of honest indignation. I am told that one of the parties of the late outrage—one of the owners of the “Ottoman,” came up here to this temple of liberty the other night to hear Mr. John P. Hale talk about slavery. He was discovered and pointed out. And, Mr. Chairman, what was done to him? Why, Sir, he was fairly looked out of this Hall. No one touched him ; but he could not stand the look of indignation, and he fled away. Sir, this beats the hunters of the West; they boast that they can “grin the varmint off the trees,” but they cannot look a slave-hunter out of countenance, as the freemen of the East Can.

I say, Sir, if ever the slave-hunter come among us in pursuit of his victim, let us not harm a hair of his head—“let us touch not the hem of his garment; but let him be a Pariah among us,” and cursed be he who gives him aid, who gives him food, or fire, or bed, or anything save that which drove his friend and coadjutor from Faneuil Hall the other night.

SOURCES: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 399-400; Address of the Committee Appointed by a Public Meeting: Held at Faneuil Hall, September 24, 1846, Appendix, p. 2-6

Amos A. Lawrence to Senator Jefferson Davis, December 22, 1859

Boston, December 22, 1859.

Dear Sir, — I am sorry to see, by a reported speech of yours, that you are among those who have been duped by vile fellows who believe that a large number of decent men in this part of the country are implicated in the affair of Harper's Ferry. Among other names I find my own, and I am the person alluded to as a cotton speculator who employed Brown to do his work. To show you how absurd this whole plan of libel will appear when it is examined, I will state my own case.

1st. I am the son of Amos Lawrence, now deceased, whom you knew, and who brought me up to be a “national” man, as we understand that term. 2d. I have been so decided in my own opposition to the formation of sectional parties, that those who voted for Fillmore in Massachusetts, in 1856, nominated me for governor, but I declined. They have requested me to be a candidate every year since that, and last year I did run against Mr. Banks. 3d. Though largely interested in cotton factories as a shareholder, I never owned a bale of cotton in my life, and never had any business with any person whom I knew as a speculator in cotton. Some years ago I took a great interest in our people who settled in Kansas, many of whom went from Lowell and Lawrence with their families. They were shockingly abused, and if it were not for my wife and seven children at home, I would have taken a more active part in that business. But that has passed long ago; it did not induce me to join the Republicans, though it did most of my friends. I took part with Mr. William Appleton and my relative Mr. F. Pierce in the Faneuil Hall meeting here the other day, and with most of our people am called a “hunker,” and even in Mississippi should be a law and order man. You will do me a favor, if you will prevent my being summoned to Washington on so foolish an errand as to testify about Harper's Ferry.

Respectfully and truly yours,

A. A. L.

SOURCE: William Lawrence, Life of Amos A. Lawrence: With Extracts from His Diary and Correspondence, p. 136-8

Journal of Amos A. Lawrence, December 5, 1859

Declined to serve as vice-president of the Union meeting at Faneuil Hall, because I do not wish to help the Democrats.

SOURCE: William Lawrence, Life of Amos A. Lawrence: With Extracts from His Diary and Correspondence, p. 134

Journal of Amos A. Lawrence, December 6, 1859

Storm. Agreed to be at Faneuil Hall and act as an officer of the meeting. Public meeting at Faneuil Hall. A grand affair. The crowd was very great even on the outside. Ex-Governor Lincoln presided. Though over eighty years old he appeared well. Mr. Everett spoke as well as I ever heard him. Then Caleb Cushing. The enthusiasm was tremendous whenever the Union was alluded to. The Democrats will try to make something of it.

SOURCE: William Lawrence, Life of Amos A. Lawrence: With Extracts from His Diary and Correspondence, p. 134

Gerrit Smith to Edmund Quincy, November 23, 1846

Peterboro, Nov. 23, 1846,

Edmund Quincy, Esq., of Massachusetts:

Dear Sir, — I have this evening, read your letter to me, in the last Liberator. I am so busy in making preparations to leave home for a month or two, that my reply must be brief. A reply I must make — for you might construe my silence into discourtesy and unfriendliness.

From your remark, that you have not seen my “recent writings and speeches,” I infer, that you do not deign to cast a look upon the newspapers of the Liberty Party. Your proud and disdainful state of mind toward this party accounts for some of the mistakes in your letter. For instance, were you a reader of its newspapers, you would not charge me with “irreverently” using the term “Bible politics.” You evidently suppose that I identify the federal constitution and the Liberty Party with the politics of the Bible. But, in my discourses on “Bible politics,” which, to no small extent, are made up directly from the pages of the Bible, I seek but to show what are the Heaven-intended uses of civil government, and what are the necessary qualifications of those who administer it. So far are these discourses from commending the constitution, or the Liberty Party, that they do not so much as allude either to the one or to the other. Again, were you a reader of the newspapers of this party, you would know its name. You would in that case know, that “Liberty Party” is the name, which, from the first, it has chosen for itself; and that “Third Party” is only a nickname, which low-minded persons have given to it. You well know, that there are low-minded persons, who, seeing nothing in the good man who is the object of their hatred, for that hatred to seize upon, will try to harm him by nicknaming him. It is such as these, whose malice toward the Liberty Party has, for want of argument against that truth-espousing and self-sacrificing party, vented itself in a nickname. Be assured, my dear sir, that I have no hard feelings toward you for misnaming my party. You are a gentleman; and your error is, therefore, purely unintentional. Upon your innocent ignorance — too easy and credulous in this instance, I admit — the base creatures who coined this nickname, have palmed it as the real name of the Liberty Party. You are a gentleman; and hence, as certainly as your good breeding accords to every party, however little and despised, the privilege of naming itself, so certainly, when you are awake to this deception which has been practiced upon your credulity, you will be deeply indignant at it. I see, from his late speech in Faneuil Hall, that even Mr. Webster has fallen into the mistake of taking “Third Party” to be the name of the Liberty Party. The columns of the Liberator have, most probably, led him into it. Being set right on this point yourself, you will of course, take pleasure in setting him right. He will thank you for doing so; for when he comes to know, that “Third Party” is but a nickname, and the invention of blackguards, he will shrink from the vulgarity and meanness of repeating it. Again, were you a reader of the newspapers of the Liberty Party, you would not feel yourself authorized to take it for granted, that to hold an office under the constitution is to be guilty of swearing to uphold slavery. On the contrary, you would be convinced, that nine-tenths of the abolitionists of the country — nine-tenths, too, of the wisest and worthiest of them — believe, that an oath to abide by the constitution is an oath to labor for the overthrow of slavery. Were you a reader of the newspapers of the Liberty Party, you would know, that this position of these nine-tenths of the abolitionists of the country is fortified by arguments of William Goodell and Lysander Spooner, which there has been no attempt to answer, and that, too, for the most probable reason, that they are unanswerable. I am not sure, that you have ever heard of these gentlemen. Theirs are perhaps, unmentioned names in the line of your reading and associations. Nevertheless I strongly desire that you may read their arguments. Your reading of them will, I hope, moderate the superlatively arrogant and dogmatic style in which you, in common with the abolitionists of your school, talk and write on this subject. If this or aught else, shall have the effect to relax that extreme, turkey-cock tension of pride, with which you and your fellows strut up and down the arena of this controversy, the friends of modesty and good manners will have occasion to rejoice.

I have not taken up my pen to write another argument for the constitution. Two or three years ago, I presumed to write one and the way in which it was treated, is a caution to me not to repeat the presumption. I shall not soon forget the fury with which the Mr. Wendell Phillips, whom you so highly praise in the letter before me, pounced upon it. Nothing short of declaring me to be a thief and a liar could relieve his swollen spirit, or give adequate vent to his foaming wrath. He would, probably, have come to be ashamed of himself, had not his review of me been endorsed by Mr. Garrison, and also by one, who it is said, is even greater than Mr. Garrison — “the power behind the throne.”

I do not doubt, my dear sir, that you and your associates have sincerely adopted your conclusions respecting the constitution. That you should be thoroughly convinced by your own arguments is a natural and almost necessary consequence of the self-complacency, which uniformly characterizes persons who regard themselves as ne plus ultra reformers. I wish you could find it in your hearts to reciprocate our liberality, in acknowledging your sincerity, and to admit, that we, who differ from you, are also sincere. No longer then would you suppose us, as you do in your present letter, to be guilty of “Jesuitical evasions,” or to be capable of being, to use your own capitals “PERJURED LIARS.” No longer then would you and the gentlemen of your school speak of us as a pack of office-seekers, hypocrites, and scoundrels. But you would then treat us  — your equal brethren, as honestly and ardently desirous as yourselves to advance the dear cause to which you are devoted — with decency and kindness, instead of contempt and brutality. I honor you and your associates, as true-hearted friends of the slave; and nor man, nor devil, shall ever extort from my lips or pen a word of injustice against any of you. I honor you also for the sincerity of your beliefs, that they, who dissent from your expositions of the constitution, are in the wrong. But I am deeply grieved at your superciliousness and intolerance toward those, whose desire to know and do their duty is no less strong nor pure than your own. Far am I from intimating that the blame of the internal dissensions of the Abolitionists belongs wholly to yourselves. No very small share of it should be appropriated by such of them as have indulged a bad spirit, in speaking uncandidly and unkindly of yourselves. All classes of Abolitionists have need to humble themselves before God for having retarded the cause of the slave by these guilty dissensions.

I would that I could inspire you with some distrust of your infallibility. I should, thereby, be rendering good service to yourself and to the cause of truth. Will you bear to have me point out some of the blunders in the letter to which I am now replying? And, when you shall have seen them, will you suffer your wonder to abate, that the great body of Abolitionists do not more promptly and implicitly bow to the ipse dixits of yourself and your fellow infallibles? Casting myself on your indulgence, and at the risk of ruffling your self-complacency. I proceed to point out to you some of these blunders.

Blunder No. 1. You charge me with holding, that the clause of the constitution relating to the slave-trade, provides for its abolition. What I do hold to, however, is, that the part of the constitution which entrusts Congress with the power to regulate commerce, provides for the abolition of this trade. That Congress would use the power to abolish this trade, was deemed certain by the whole convention which framed the constitution. Hence a portion of its members would not consent to grant this power, unless modified by the clause concerning the slave-trade, and unless, too, this clause were made irrepealable. When the life-time of this modification had expired, Congress, doing just what the anti-slavery spirit of the constitution and the universal expectation of the nation demanded, prohibited our participation in the African slave-trade. I readily admit, that the clause in question is, considered by itself, pro-slavery. But it is to be viewed as a part of the anti-slavery bargain for suppressing the African slave-trade — and as a part, without which, the anti-slavery bargain could not have been made. Did I not infer from your own words, that you cannot possibly bring yourself to condescend to read the “writings or speeches” of Liberty-party men, I would ask you to read what I wrote to John G. Whittier and Adin Ballou on that part of the constitution now under consideration.

Blunder No. 2. But what pro-slavery act can that part of the constitution which respects the African slave-trade, require at the hands of one who should now swear to support the constitution? None. No more than if the thing, now entirely obsolete, had never been. What a blunder then to speak of this part of the constitution, as an obstacle in the way of swearing to support those parts of it which still remain operative!

Blunder No. 3. In your letter before me, as well as in your approval of an article in the Liberator of 30th last month, you take the position, that the pro-slavery interpretations of the constitution, at the hands of courts and lawmakers, are conclusive that the instrument is pro-slavery. But you will yourself go so far as to admit, that all slavery under the national flag, and in the District of Columbia, and indeed everywhere, save in the old thirteen States, is unconstitutional. Nevertheless all such parts of unconstitutional slavery have repeatedly been approved by courts and law-makers. You say, that the constitution is what its expounders interpret it to be; and that, inasmuch as they interpret it to be pro-slavery, you are bound to reject it. But the dignified and authoritative expounders of the Bible interpret it to be pro-slavery. Why, then, according to your own rules, should you not reject the Bible, also? Talleyrand, you know, thought a blunder worse than a crime. You and I do not agree with him. But we certainly cannot fail to agree with each other, that your blunder No. 3, is a very bad blunder.

Blunder No. 4. You declare, that because the constitution is as you allege, pro-slavery, it is inconsistent and unfair to reject a slaveholder from holding office under it. Extend the application if you will, that you may see its absurdity. The constitution of my State makes a dark skin a disqualification for voting. Hence, in choosing officers under it — even revisers of the constitution itself — I am not at liberty, according to your rule, to exclude a man from the range of my selection, on the ground that he is in favor of such disqualification. Nay, more, I must regard his agreement with the constitution on this point, as an argument in favor of his claim to my vote. Again — to conform to your rule, a wicked community should, because it is wicked, choose a wicked preacher — or because it is ignorant, choose an ignorant schoolmaster. Yours is a rule that refuses to yield to the law of progress, and that shuts the door against all human improvement. You would, for the sake of their consistency, have an individual — have a people — remain as wicked as they are — and vote for drunkards and slaveholders, because they have always done so. The provision of the constitution for its own amendment, is of itself, enough to silence your doctrine, that the agreement of a man's character and views with the constitution, is necessarily an argument for, and can never be an argument against, his holding office under it. This provision opens the door for choosing to office under the constitution, those who disagree with it. This provision implies, that in the progress of things, a man's agreement with the constitution may be a conclusive objection to clothing him with official power under it.

But I will stop my enumeration of your blunders, and put you a few questions.

1. Do you not believe, that it was settled by the decision in the year 1772 of the highest court of England, that there was not any legal slavery in our American Colonies?

2. Do you not believe, that there was no legal slavery in any of the States of this nation, at the time the constitution was adopted?

3. Do you not believe, that the constitution created no slavery; and that it is not to be held as even recognizing slavery, provided there was, at the time of its adoption, no legal slavery in any of the States?

4. Do you not believe, that had the American people adhered to the letter and spirit of the constitution, chattel slavery would ere this, have ceased to exist in the nation?

You will of course, be constrained to answer all these questions in the affirmative. And I wish that, when you shall have answered them, you would also answer one more — and that is the question whether, since you are hotly eager for the overthrow of all civil government (they are not governments whose laws, if laws they may be called, are without the sanctions of force) you ought not to guard yourself most carefully from seeking unjust occasions against them, and from satisfying your hatred of them, at the expense of candor and truth? An atheist at heart is not unfrequently known to publish his grief over what he (afflicted soul!) is pained to be obliged to admit are blemishes upon the Bible. His words are, as if this blessed book were inexpressibly dear to him. Nevertheless, his inward and deep desire is, that with or without the blemishes he imputes to it, the Bible may perish. Our Non-resistants throw themselves into an agony before the public eye, on account of the pro-slavery which they allege taints the constitution. But, aside and in their confidential circles, their language is: “Be the constitution pro-slavery or anti-slavery, let it perish.” Were the constitution unexceptionable to you on the score of slavery, you would, being a Non-resistant, still hate it with unappeasable hatred. Now I put it to you, my dear sir, whether the Non-resistants, when they ask us to listen to their disinterested arguments against the anti-slavery character of the constitution, do not show themselves to be somewhat brazen-faced! I say naught against your Non-resistance. That I am not a Nonresistant myself — that I still linger around the bloody and life-taking doctrines in which I was educated — is perhaps, only because I have less humanity and piety than yourself. Often have I tried to throw off this part of my education; and that the Bible would not let me, was, perhaps, only my foolish and wicked fancy.

You ask me to join you in abandoning the constitution. My whole heart — my whole sense of duty to God and man — forbids my doing so. In my own judgment of the case, I could not do so without being guilty of the most cowardly and cruel treachery toward my enslaved countrymen. The constitution has put weapons into the hands of the American people entirely sufficient for slaying the monster within whose bloody and crushing grasp are the three millions of American slaves. I have not failed to calculate the toil and selfdenial and peril of using those weapons manfully and bravely — and yet for one, I have determined, God helping me, thus to use them — and not, self-indulgently and basely, to cast them away. If the people of the north should refuse to avail themselves of their constitutional power to effectuate the overthrow of American slavery, on them must rest the guilty responsibility, and not in that power — for it is ample. To give up the constitution is to give up the slave. His hope of a peaceful deliverance is, under God, in the application of the anti-slavery principles of the constitution.

No — I cannot join you in abandoning the constitution and overthrowing the government. I cannot join you, notwithstanding you tell me that to do so is " the only political action in which a man of honor and self-respect can engage in this country." Your telling me so is but another proof of your intolerance and insolence—but another proof of the unhappy change wrought in your temper and manners by the associations and pursuits of your latter years. Your telling me so carries no conviction to my mind of the truth of what you tell me. It is a mere assertion;—and has surely, none the more likeness to an argument by reason of the exceedingly offensive terms in which it is couched.

Since I began this letter, I have received one from a couple of colored men of the city of Alexandria. Never did I read a more eloquent, or heart-melting letter. You remember that Congress, at its last session, left it to the vote of the whites in that part of the District of Columbia south of the Potomac, whether that part of the District should be set back to Virginia, and colored people be subjected to the murderous and diabolical laws which that State has enacted against colored people, the free as well as the bond. The letter which I have received, describes the feelings of our poor colored brethren, as they saw themselves passing from under the laws of the nation into the bloody grasp of the laws of a slave State. I will give you an extract:

“I know that, could you but see the poor colored people of this city, who are the poorest of God's poor, your benevolent heart would melt at such an exhibition. Fancy, but for a moment, you could have seen them on the day of election, when the act of Congress, retroceding them to Virginia, should be rejected or confirmed. Whilst the citizens of this city and county were voting, God's humble poor were standing in rows, on either side of the Court House, and, as the votes were announced every quarter of an hour, the suppressed wailings and lamentations of the people of color were constantly ascending to God for help and succor, in this the hour of their need. And whilst their cries and lamentations were going up to the Lord of Sabaoth, the curses and shouts of the people, and the sounds of the wide-mouthed artillery, which made both the heavens and the earth shake, admonished us that on the side of the oppressor there was great power. Oh sir, there never was such a time here before! We have been permitted heretofore to meet together in God's sanctuary, which we have erected for the purpose of religious worship, but whether we shall have this privilege when the Virginia laws are extended over us, we know not. We expect that our schools will all be broken up, and our privileges, which we have enjoyed for so many years, will all be taken away. The laws of Virginia can hardly be borne by those colored people that have been brought up in a state of ignorance and the deepest subjection: but oh sir how is it with us, who have enjoyed comparative liberty? We trust that we have the sympathies of the good and the virtuous. We know that we have yours and your associates in benevolence and love. Dear friend, can you and yours extend to our poor a helping hand, in this the time of our need? Remember, as soon as the legislature of Virginia meets, which is in December, they will extend their laws over us: and in the spring forty or fifty colored families would be glad to leave for some free State, where they can educate their children, and worship God without molestation. But, dear sir, whither shall we go? Say, Christian brother, and witness heaven and earth, whither shall we go? Do we hear a voice from you saying: ‘Come here?’ Or, are we mistaken? Say, brother, say, are we not greater objects of pity than our more highly favored and fortunate brethren of the North—(Heaven bless and preserve them!”)

If such, my friend, is the woe, when but a few hundred colored persons (and part of them free) find themselves deserted by the National Power, what will it not be, when, in the bosoms of three millions of slaves, all hope of the interposition of that Power shall die? That Power I would labor to turn into the channel of deliverance to these millions. That Power you would destroy. Alas, were it this day destroyed, what a long, black night would settle down upon those millions! Vengeance might, indeed, succeed to despair; and its superhuman arm deliver the enslaved. But, such a deliverance would be through blood, reaching, in Apocalyptic language, “even to the horses’ bridles:” and to such a deliverance neither you nor I would knowingly contribute.

But I am extending my letter to double the length I intended to give it—and must stop.

With great regard, your friend,

Gerrit Smith.

SOURCES: Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Gerrit Smith: A Biography, p. 201-8

Diary of Julia Ward Howe: Wednesday, June 21, 1865

Attended the meeting at Faneuil Hall, for the consideration of reconstruction of the Southern States. Dana made a statement to the effect that voting was a civic, not a natural, right, and built up the propriety of negro suffrage on the basis first of military right, then of duty to the negro, this being the only mode of enabling him to protect himself against his late master. His treatment was intended to be exhaustive, and was able, though cold and conceited. Beecher tumbled up on the platform immediately after, not having heard him, knocked the whole question to pieces with his great democratic power, his humor, his passion, and his magnetism. It was Nature after Art, and his nature is much greater than Dana's art.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards & Maud Howe Elliott, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, Large-Paper Edition, Volume 1, p. 226

Diary of Theodore Parker, November 6, 1851

Saw Dr. Howe this afternoon: he looks better, in fine health and spirits. I went with him to the Faneuil Hall meeting of Free-soilers. Sumner was on his legs — a fine speaker, a very sincere and good fellow, only he wants courage. Howe is braver and richer in ideas, but not so well trained for literary work.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 266-7

Julia Ward Howe to her Sisters, Thursday, May 29, 1856

Thursday, 29, 1856

We have been in the most painful state of excitement relative to Kansas matters and dear Charles Sumner, whose condition gives great anxiety.¹ Chev is as you might expect under such circumstances; he has had much to do with meetings here, etc., etc. New England spunk seems to be pretty well up, but what will be done is uncertain as yet. One thing we have got: the Massachusetts Legislature has passed the “personal liberty bill,” which will effectually prevent the rendition of any more fugitive slaves from Massachusetts. Another thing, the Tract Society here (orthodox) has put out old Dr. Adams, who published a book in favor of slavery; a third thing, the Connecticut legislature has withdrawn its invitation to Mr. Everett to deliver his oration before them, in consequence of his having declined to speak at the Sumner meeting in Faneuil Hall. . . .

_______________

¹ In consequence of the assault upon him in the Senate Chamber by Preston Brooks of South Carolina.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards & Maud Howe Elliott, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, Large-Paper Edition, Volume 1, p. 168

Samuel Gridley Howe to the Committee of Vigilance, September 26, 1846

Boston, Sept. 26th, 1846.

Dear Sir: — Permit me to inform you that you were appointed a member of the Committee of Vigilance, chosen at Faneuil Hall on Thursday the 24th inst., to take means to secure the protection of the laws to all persons who may be in danger of abduction from the Commonwealth; and to request you to be present at a meeting thereof to be held at Dr. Bowditch's house, No. 3 Otis Place, on Wednesday, Sept. 30th, at 7½ o'clock, P. M. At this, the first meeting of the Committee, it is of the highest importance that, if possible, every member should be present and assist in its deliberations.

S. G. Howe.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 245

Lieutenant Colonel Charles Fessenden Morse: The “Veteran” Furlough

The regiment received its orders to go home for its thirty days' furlough January 9, 1864, those who had not re-enlisted remaining in camp at Tullahoma, Tenn. Movements by rail were slow in those days, owing to insufficient transportation, and it was not until the evening of January 18th that the regiment reached Boston. There was a great throng at the Boston and Albany station awaiting it, but no formal reception was given that evening. The men were marched to barracks on Beach Street, and quartered there for the night; the officers were entertained by Mr. E. R. Mudge at the United States Hotel, and many of them went to their homes for the night.

The next day, January 20th, was a fine, bright, winter day, not too cold for comfort. At about 9 A. M., the regiment filed out of the Beach Street barracks, and, under the escort of the Boston Cadets, began its march. It was an ovation from the start. The men had spent much of their time the preceding night in polishing their brasses and belts, and brushing up their well worn uniforms. Their rifles and bayonets were burnished to the last degree, and would have passed the inspection of the most rigid West point martinet. It is difficult to say too much in praise of the appearance of the command on this occasion. The men were veterans in the truest sense, and their whole appearance indicated it. Their march was the easy swing of the old soldier, but in perfect time and alignment, with every face set squarely to the front. Their faces, bronzed by exposure to the sun and the weather, had the expression of hardihood which only comes to men accustomed to meet dangers and privation. The officers were all young men, hardly one who marched that day being more than twenty-five years old, yet from the military point of view they were entitled to be called veterans. Colonel Coggswell, who commanded the regiment, was then in his twenty-fifth year; Captain Crowninshield, who had been three times wounded, was in his twenty-first year and was the youngest captain, but several other officers of this rank were only a year or two older.

The march was first through the West End of Boston, passing through Arlington Street to Beacon Street, — the reception proper really beginning on the latter street. The sidewalks were filled with a cheering multitude, and every window and balcony were crowded with friends, who gave the most enthusiastic greeting to the regiment as it passed. It was a stirring march, to fine martial music, and no one who marched with the regiment that day will ever forget this thrilling episode of his military life.

From Beacon Street the march proceeded through the business streets, where the principal stores had been closed by common consent. On State Street was another ovation from "the solid men of Boston," who filled the street and cheered most enthusiastically as the column marched by. When Faneuil Hall was reached the men filed in, and every inch of available room was immediately filled by the crowds which followed. The galleries were occupied by ladies and many of the immediate friends of the officers and men. The hall was handsomely decorated by flags and streamers, with the State arms and shield on each side of the clock.

The officers and color guard with their shot-riddled battle flag were on the platform, where Governor Andrew and his staff, Mayor Lincoln, General Burnside, and other distinguished men were assembled. Mayor Lincoln presided on the occasion, and after prayer by the Rev. Dr. Lothrop, a collation was served to the men. Mayor Lincoln then made an address of welcome, which he closed by introducing "His Excellency the Governor, who, in behalf of our honored Commonwealth, will formally tender you that welcome which your merits and patriotic services deserve."

Governor Andrew followed with an eloquent address, in which he recounted the services of the regiment and followed its career through its various campaigns. He referred by name to many of those who had fallen in battle, and told the story of the color bearers who fell one after another at Gettysburg, but who never let the flag touch the ground, in a manner which thrilled every one who heard him. In conclusion he said: “Now, Mr. Commander and soldiers of the Second, I have not attempted by words to declare how deep is the gratitude of the Massachusetts heart towards the living, — how sacred our remembrance for the memory of the dead. Brave and true men lean not on the speech, rely not on the assurance of the lips. Soldiers, you know that from the bottom of her heart Massachusetts admires, reveres and loves you all.”

Colonel Coggswell made a modest, well-spoken reply to Governor Andrew's speech of welcome, and was followed by General Burnside, who happened to be present in Boston at that time, and who made a few remarks suitable to the occasion.

After the exercises at Faneuil Hall were concluded, the regiment marched to Coolidge Block, Court Street, where the arms and equipments were deposited, and the men received their thirty days' furlough.

The officers scattered to their homes to enjoy this brief season of rest, although an active effort was made to secure recruits to take back into the field. This effort entirely failed, mainly owing to the unfortunate policy, then in effect, of creating and filling up new military organizations, rather than placing every recruit in the old regiments or other organized commands.

On Monday, February 22, the regiment assembled at Beach Street barracks, and the next day, at half-past four P. M., left Boston for Tennessee. An entire week was spent on the return trip, and the regiment finally reached its camp at Tullahoma on a dark, rainy morning, where it rejoined the comrades who had been left behind.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 217-9

Speech of William Ellery Channing: Faneuil Hall, Boston, Massachusetts December 8, 1837

Mr. Chairman, — My relation to this meeting not only authorizes, but requires, me to offer, at its commencement, some remarks on the purpose for which we are now assembled. It is not, indeed, without reluctance, that I rise to speak in a place, and under circumstances, to me so new and unusual; but I am commanded to make this effort by a voice which I cannot disobey, by a sense of what I owe to myself, to this community, and to the cause of freedom.

I know that there are those who say that this is not my place, — that my voice should be heard only in the holy temples of religion. I ask. Is there nothing holy here? Was there nothing holy in the spirit of our fathers, when within these walls they invoked the blessing of God on their struggles for freedom? Every place may be made holy by holy deeds. Nothing, nothing. Sir, would tempt me to come here to mingle in the conflicts of party. But when a great question of humanity and justice is discussed here, when a number of my fellow-citizens meet here to lift up their voices against violence and murder, and in support of the laws and the press, I feel that my place is here.

I rise simply to state the object of this meeting. It has been misrepresented, — I do not say intentionally. I do not come here to charge any of my fellow-citizens with unworthy motives. But there has been misrepresentation. You have been told that the professed object of the meeting is not its real one; that it was called to serve the purposes of a party; that it is an imposition. I grieve that this language has been used. It shows how little faith man has in man, how slow he is to ascribe good purposes to his brother, how prone to see by-ends and bad ends in honorable undertakings. Sir, there does exist such a thing as purity of purpose. It is possible for a man to desire freedom, not only for himself, but for his whole race. It is possible for a man to desire that the laws may guard, not only his own possessions, but the rights of every human being; and when laws and rights and freedom are trodden under foot, not once, but again and again, and with increasing fury, it is possible for a man sincerely to feel that he ought to meet with those of a like mind, and bear testimony with them against these atrocities. Sir, are not here motives enough and of sufficient force to bring men together, and to crowd this hall,—motives enough, and more than enough, to explain this meeting? And why, then, look beyond these, — why look for others and base ones?

I can say with confidence, Sir, that this meeting had a good origin. Call it unwise, if you will; but its purpose was pure, was generous, and worthy of Christian freemen. I claim to know something of its origin; for I believe no one had more to do with calling it than myself. Soon after the recent tragedy at Alton, I was called upon, and requested to deliver a discourse on that sad event. For various reasons, I declined so to do. I said to the friend who made the request, and I said it from my own mind, and without any hint from another, that I wished that the citizens of Boston would, in some public manner, express their abhorrence of the lawless spirit which had prompted to this and kindred deeds, and which had broken out here as well as at a distance. On the next day a petition was sent me, embodying the suggestion which I had made the evening before. To this petition I affixed my name. In signing it, my great apprehension was, that the absorption of our citizens in their private affairs would make them indifferent to the subject, so that a meeting sufficiently numerous for the desired impression might not be obtained. The idea of opposition to it did not enter my thoughts, and up to this hour I find a difficulty in comprehending, in making real to myself, the opposition it has excited. I signed the petition with the full understanding that the meeting should bear no relation to party, but should comprehend all citizens, of whatever sect or party, whose spirits had been stirred, as mine was, by the fearful progress of lawless force.

On me, then, Sir, not a little of the responsibility of this meeting rests. I owe it to truth and honor to avow it, and I am ready to bear this responsibility. I have no misgivings. I have a distinct consciousness, that the part which I act becomes a man, a citizen, and a Christian. I am willing that the report of what I am doing should go through the length and breadth of the land. I am willing it should cross the ocean. I care not how far, how wide, it is known, that, at this moment of increasing peril from lawless force, I labored to bring my fellow-citizens together, in order that, by a solemn public act, they might help to put down civil convulsion and bloodshed, — might assert the insulted supremacy of the laws, and might pledge themselves to sustain the endangered rights of the citizen. Sir, it is not impossible that the report of this meeting may cross the ocean, and may form a part of the enduring records of this city. I trust that it will not detract from the glory of our beloved city. I trust that the gentlemen who are now to address you will feel the dignity, the sacredness, of this occasion. I trust that they will rise above all local, personal, party considerations. I rejoice that the opening of this hall to us by the fathers of our city has put to rest one question which lately excited us, and I trust that no reference to this will disturb our harmony. In a word, I trust that this assembly will speak a language worthy of Boston; and worthy of those illustrious men, who, in times that tried men's souls, made these walls echo with their thrilling voices, and left here a testimony, which will never die, to the principles of freedom.

SOURCE: William Henry Channing, The Life of William Ellery Channing, p. 557-8

Wendell Phillips's Freedom Speech: Faneuil Hall, Boston, Massachusetts December 8, 1837

MR. CHAIRMAN: — We have met for the freest discussion of these resolutions, and the events which gave rise to them. [Cries of “Question,” “Hear him,” “Go on,” “No gagging,” etc.] I hope I shall be permitted to express my surprise at the sentiments of the last speaker, — surprise not only at such sentiments from such a man, but at the applause they have received within these walls. A comparison has been drawn between the events of the Revolution and the tragedy at Alton. We have heard it asserted here, in Faneuil Hall, that Great Britain had a right to tax the Colonies, and we have heard the mob at Alton, the drunken murderers of Lovejoy, compared to those patriot fathers who threw the tea overboard! [Great applause.] Fellow-citizens, is this Faneuil Hall doctrine? [“No, no.”] The mob at Alton were met to wrest from a citizen his just rights, — met to resist the laws. We have been told that our fathers did the same; and the glorious mantle of Revolutionary precedent has been thrown over the mobs of our day. To make out their title to such defence, the gentleman says that the British Parliament had a right to tax these Colonies. It is manifest that, without this, his parallel falls to the ground; for Lovejoy had stationed himself within constitutional bulwarks. He was not only defending the freedom of the press, but he was under his own roof, in arms with the sanction of the civil authority. The men who assailed him went against and over the laws. The mob, as the gentleman terms it, — mob, forsooth! certainly we sons of the tea-spillers are a marvellously patient generation! — the “orderly mob” which assembled in the Old South to destroy the tea were met to resist, not the laws, but illegal exactions. Shame on the American who calls the tea-tax and stamp-act laws! Our fathers resisted, not the King's prerogative, but the King's usurpation. To find any other account, you must read our Revolutionary history upside down. Our State archives are loaded with arguments of John Adams to prove the taxes laid by the British Parliament unconstitutional,—beyond its power. It was not till this was made out that the men of New England rushed to arms. The arguments of the Council Chamber and the House of Representatives preceded and sanctioned the contest. To draw the conduct of our ancestors into a precedent for mobs, for a right to resist laws we ourselves have enacted, is an insult to their memory. The difference between the excitements of those days and our own, which the gentleman in kindness to the latter has overlooked, is simply this: the men of that day went for the right, as secured by the laws. They were the people rising to sustain the laws and constitution of the Province. The rioters of our day go for their own wills, right or wrong. Sir, when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which place the murderers of Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams, I thought those pictured lips [pointing to the portraits in the Hall] would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American, — the slanderer of the dead. [Great applause and counter applause.] The gentleman said that he should sink into insignificance if he dared to gainsay the principles of these resolutions. Sir, for the sentiments he has uttered, on soil consecrated by the prayers of Puritans and the blood of patriots, the earth should have yawned and swallowed him up.

[Applause and hisses, with cries of “Take that back.” The uproar became so great that for a long time no one could be heard. At length G. Bond, Esq., and Hon. W. Sturgis came to Mr. Phillips's side at the front of the platform. They were met with cries of “Phillips or nobody,” “Make him take back ‘recreant,’” “He sha'n't go on till he takes it back.” When it was understood they meant to sustain, not to interrupt, Mr. Phillips, Mr. Sturgis was listened to, and said: “I did not come here to take any part in this discussion, nor do I intend to; but I do entreat you, fellow-citizens, by everything you hold sacred, — I conjure you by every association connected with this Hall, consecrated by our fathers to freedom of discussion, — that you listen to every man who addresses you in a decorous manner.” Mr. Phillips resumed.]

Fellow-citizens, I cannot take back my words. Surely the Attorney-General, so long and well known here, needs not the aid of your hisses against one so young as I am, — my voice never before heard within these walls!

Another ground has been taken to excuse the mob, and throw doubt and discredit on the conduct of Lovejoy and his associates. Allusion has been made to what lawyers understand very well, — the “conflict of laws.” We are told that nothing but the Mississippi River rolls between St. Louis and Alton; and the conflict of laws somehow or other gives the citizens of the former a right to find fault with the defender of the press for publishing his opinions so near their limits. Will the gentleman venture that argument before lawyers? How the laws of the two States could be said to come into conflict in such circumstances I question whether any lawyer in this audience can explain or understand. No matter whether the line that divides one sovereign State from another be an imaginary one or ocean-wide, the moment you cross it the State you leave is blotted out of existence, so far as you are concerned. The Czar might as well claim to control the deliberations of Faneuil Hall, as the laws of Missouri demand reverence, or the shadow of obedience, from an inhabitant of Illinois.

I must find some fault with the statement which has been made of the events at Alton. It has been asked why Lovejoy and his friends did not appeal to the executive, — trust their defence to the police of the city. It has been hinted that, from hasty and ill-judged excitement, the men within the building provoked a quarrel, and that he fell in the course of it, one mob resisting another. Recollect, Sir, that they did act with the approbation and sanction of the Mayor. In strict truth, there was no executive to appeal to for protection. The Mayor acknowledged that he could not protect them. They asked him if it was lawful for them to defend themselves. He told them it was, and sanctioned their assembling in arms to do so. They were not, then, a mob; they were not merely citizens defending their own property; they were in some sense the posse comitatus, adopted for the occasion into the police of the city, acting under the order of a magistrate. It was civil authority resisting lawless violence. Where, then, was the imprudence? Is the doctrine to be sustained here, that it is imprudent for men to aid magistrates in executing the laws?

Men are continually asking each other, Had Lovejoy a right to resist? Sir, I protest against the question, instead of answering it. Lovejoy did not resist, in the sense they mean. He did not throw himself back on the natural right of self-defence. He did not cry anarchy, and let slip the dogs of civil war, careless of the horrors which would follow.

Sir, as I understand this affair, it was not an individual protecting his property; it was not one body of armed men resisting another, and making the streets of a peaceful city run blood with their contentions. It did not bring back the scenes in some old Italian cities, where family met family, and faction met faction, and mutually trampled the laws under foot. No; the men in that house were regularly enrolled, under the sanction of the Mayor. There being no militia in Alton, about seventy men were enrolled with the approbation of the Mayor. These relieved each other every other night. About thirty men were in arms on the night of the sixth, when the press was landed. The next evening, it was not thought necessary to summon more than half that number; among these was Lovejoy. It was, therefore, you perceive, Sir, the police of the city resisting rioters, — civil government breasting itself to the shock of lawless men.

Here is no question about the right of self-defence. It is in fact simply this: Has the civil magistrate a right to put down a riot?

Some persons seem to imagine that anarchy existed at Alton from the commencement of these disputes. Not at all. “No one of us,” says an eyewitness and a comrade of Lovejoy, “has taken up arms during these disturbances but at the command of the Mayor.” Anarchy did not settle down on that devoted city till Lovejoy breathed his last. Till then the law, represented in his person, sustained itself against its foes. When he fell, civil authority was trampled under foot. He had “planted himself on his constitutional rights,” — appealed to the laws, — claimed the protection of the civil authority, — taken refuge under “the broad shield of the Constitution. When through that he was pierced and fell, he fell but one sufferer in a common catastrophe.” He took refuge under the banner of liberty, — amid its folds; and when he fell, its glorious stars and stripes, the emblem of free institutions, around which cluster so many heart-stirring memories, were blotted out in the martyr's blood.

It has been stated, perhaps inadvertently, that Lovejoy or his comrades fired first. This is denied by those who have the best means of knowing. Guns were first fired by the mob. After being twice fired on, those within the building consulted together and deliberately returned the fire. But suppose they did fire first. They had a right so to do; not only the right which every citizen has to defend himself, but the further right which every civil officer has to resist violence. Even if Lovejoy fired the first gun, it would not lessen his claim to our sympathy, or destroy his title to be considered a martyr in defence of a free press. The question now is, Did he act within the Constitution and the laws? The men who fell in State Street on the 5th of March, 1770, did more than Lovejoy is charged with. They were the first assailants. Upon some slight quarrel they pelted the troops with every missile within reach. Did this bate one jot of the eulogy with which Hancock and Warren hallowed their memory, hailing them as the first martyrs in the cause of American liberty?

If, Sir, I had adopted what are called Peace principles, I might lament the circumstances of this case. But all you who believe, as I do, in the right and duty of magistrates to execute the laws, join with me and brand as base hypocrisy the conduct of those who assemble year after year on the 4th of July, to fight over the battles of the Revolution, and yet “damn with faint praise,” or load with obloquy, the memory of this man, who shed his blood in defence of life, liberty, property, and the freedom of the press!

Throughout that terrible night I find nothing to regret but this, that within the limits of our country, civil authority should have been so prostrated as to oblige a citizen to arm in his own defence, and to arm in vain. The gentleman says Lovejoy was presumptuous and imprudent, — he “died as the fool dieth.” And a reverend clergyman of the city* tells us that no citizen has a right to publish opinions disagreeable to the community! If any mob follows such publication, on him rests its guilt! He must wait, forsooth, till the people come up to it and agree with him! This libel on liberty goes on to say that the want of right to speak as we think is an evil inseparable from republican institutions! If this be so, what are they worth? Welcome the despotism of the Sultan, where one knows what he may publish and what he may not, rather than the tyranny of this many-headed monster, the mob, where we know not what we may do or say, till some fellow-citizen has tried it, and paid for the lesson with his life. This clerical absurdity chooses as a check for the abuses of the press, not the law, but the dread of a mob. By so doing, it deprives not only the individual and the minority of their rights, but the majority also, since the expression of their opinion may sometimes provoke disturbance from the minority. A few men may make a mob as well as many. The majority, then, have no right, as Christian men, to utter their sentiments, if by any possibility it may lead to a mob! Shades of Hugh Peters and John Cotton, save us from such pulpits!

Imprudent to defend the liberty of the press! Why? Because the defence was unsuccessful? Does success gild crime into patriotism, and the want of it change heroic self-devotion to imprudence? Was Hampden imprudent when he drew the sword and threw away the scabbard? Yet he, judged by that single hour, was unsuccessful. After a short exile, the race he hated sat again upon the throne.

Imagine yourself present when the first news of Bunker Hill battle reached a New England town. The tale would have run thus: “The patriots are routed, — the redcoats victorious, — Warren lies dead upon the field.” With what scorn would that Tory have been received, who should have charged Warren with imprudence! who should have said that, bred a physician, he was “out of place” in that battle, and “died as the fool dieth”! [Great applause.] How would the intimation have been received, that Warren and his associates should have waited a better time? But if success be indeed the only criterion of prudence, Respice finem, — wait till the end.

Presumptuous to assert the freedom of the press on American ground! Is the assertion of such freedom before the age? So much before the age as to leave one no right to make it because it displeases the community? Who invents this libel on his country? It is this very thing which entitles Lovejoy to greater praise. The disputed right which provoked the Revolution — taxation without representation — is far beneath that for which he died. [Here there was a strong and general expression of disapprobation.] One word, gentlemen. As much as thought is better than money, so much is the cause in which Lovejoy died nobler than a mere question of taxes. James Otis thundered in this Hall when the King did but touch his pocket. Imagine, if you can, his indignant eloquence, had England offered to put a gag upon his lips. [Great applause.]

The question that stirred the Revolution touched our civil interests. This concerns us not only as citizens, but as immortal beings. Wrapped up in its fate, saved or lost with it, are not only the voice of the statesman, but the instructions of the pulpit, and the progress of our faith.

The clergy “marvellously out of place” where free speech is battled for, — liberty of speech on national sins? Does the gentleman remember that freedom to preach was first gained, dragging in its train freedom to print? I thank the clergy here present, as I reverence their predecessors, who did not so far forget their country in their immediate profession as to deem it duty to separate themselves from the struggle of '76, — the Mayhews and Coopers, who remembered they were citizens before they were clergymen.

Mr. Chairman, from the bottom of my heart I thank that brave little band at Alton for resisting. We must remember that Lovejoy had fled from city to city, — suffered the destruction of three presses patiently. At length he took counsel with friends, men of character, of tried integrity, of wide views, of Christian principle. They thought the crisis had come: it was full time to assert the laws. They saw around them, not a community like our own, of fixed habits, of character moulded and settled, but one “in the gristle, not yet hardened into the bone of manhood.” The people there, children of our older States, seem to have forgotten the blood-tried principles of their fathers the moment they lost sight of our New England hills. Something was to be done to show them the priceless value of the freedom of the press, to bring back and set right their wandering and confused ideas. He and his advisers looked out on a community, staggering like a drunken man, indifferent to their rights and confused in their feelings. Deaf to argument, haply they might be stunned into sobriety. They saw that of which we cannot judge, the necessity of resistance. Insulted law called for it. Public opinion, fast hastening on the downward course, must be arrested.

Does not the event show they judged rightly? Absorbed in a thousand trifles, how has the nation all at once come to a stand? Men begin, as in 1776 and 1640, to discuss principles, to weigh characters, to find out where they are. Haply we may awake before we are borne over the precipice.

I am glad, Sir, to see this crowded house. It is good for us to be here. When Liberty is in danger, Faneuil Hall has the right, it is her duty, to strike the key-note for these United States. I am glad, for one reason, that remarks such as those to which I have alluded have been uttered here. The passage of these resolutions, in spite of this opposition, led by the Attorney-General of the Commonwealth, will show more clearly, more decisively, the deep indignation with which Boston regards this outrage.

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* See Rev. Hubbard Winslow's discourse on Liberty! in which he defines “republican liberty” to be “liberty to say and do what the prevailing voice and will of the brotherhood will allow and protect.”

SOURCE: Wendell Phillips, Speeches, Lectures, and Letters, Volume 1, p. 2-10