lectures on slavery, and these he now gave when he could find a hearing.
Large churches were not opened to him, and nobody offered him two
hundred dollars a night! The free colored people welcomed him gladly,
but the whites were usually indifferent or opposed to such "fanatical"
ideas. At last he came to Boston to start a paper,--that city where
brains and not wealth open the doors to the best society. Here, with no
money nor influential friends, he started the "Liberator," with this for
his motto, "I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as
justice. On this subject I do not wish to speak or write with
moderation. I am in earnest. I will not equivocate; I will not excuse; I
will not retreat a single inch--_and I will be heard!_"
The North was bound hand and foot by the slave-trade almost as
effectually as the South. The great plea was the fear lest the Union
would be dissolved. Cotton factories had sprung up on every hand, and it
was believed that slave-labor was essential to the producing of cotton.
Some thought it would not be safe to free the slaves; that
assassinations would be the result. The real secret, however, was that
each slave meant several hundred dollars, and freedom meant poverty to
the masters. Meantime, the "Liberator" was making itself felt, despite
Garrison's poverty. The Vigilance Association of South Carolina offered
a reward of $1,500 for the apprehension and prosecution of any white
person who might be detected in distributing or circulating it. In
Raleigh, N.C., the grand jury found a bill against the young editor,
hoping to bring him to that State for trial. Hon. Robert Y. Hayne, of
South Carolina, having received a paper by mail, wrote to Harrison Gray
Otis, Mayor of Boston, to ascertain the sender. Mr. Otis caused an agent
to visit the office of the "Liberator," and returned answer to Mr.
Hayne, that he found it "an obscure hole, his only visible auxiliary a
negro boy; and his supporters a few very insignificant persons of all
colors."
And where was this "obscure hole"? In the third story of a business
block, "the walls dingy," says Mr. Oliver Johnson in "Garrison and his
Times"; "the small windows bespattered with printers' ink; the press
standing in one corner; the long editorial and mailing table covered
with newspapers; the bed of the editor and publisher on the floor--all
these make a picture never to be forgotten." Their food, what little
they had, was procured at a neighboring bakery.
Soon Georgia passed a law offering $5,000 to any person arresting and
bringing to trial, under the laws of the State, and punishing to
conviction, the editor or publisher of the "Liberator." What a wonder
that some ruffian at midnight did not break into the "obscure hole," and
drag the young man off to a slave-vessel lying close by in the harbor!
The leaven of anti-slavery was beginning to work. Twelve "fanatics"
gathered one stormy night in the basement of an African church in
Boston, and organized the New England Anti-Slavery Society in 1832.
The following year, as the managers of the American Colonization Society
had sent an agent to England, it was deemed best to send Garrison abroad
to tell Wilberforce and others who were working for the suppression of
slavery in the West Indies, that it was not a wise plan to send the
slaves to Africa. It was difficult to raise the money needed; but
self-sacrifice usually leaves a good bank-account. The "fanatic," only
twenty-eight, was received with open arms by such men as Lord Brougham,
Wilberforce, Clarkson, and Daniel O'Connell. Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton
gave a breakfast in his honor. When the guests had arrived, among them
Mr. Garrison, Mr. Buxton held up both hands, exclaiming, "Why, my dear
sir, I thought you were a black man!" This, Mr. Garrison used to say,
was the greatest compliment of his life, because it showed how truly and
heartily he had labored for the slave. A great meeting was arranged for
him at Exeter Hall, London. How inspiring all this for the young
reformer! Here he met the eloquent George Thompson, and asked him to
visit our country, which invitation he accepted.
On his return the American Anti-Slavery Society was formed, Dec. 4,
1833, at Philadelphia, delegates coming from eleven States. John G.
Whittier was chosen Secretary. The noble poet has often said that he was
more proud that his name should appear signed to the Declaration of
Principles adopted at that meeting than on the title-page of any of his
volumes. Thus has he ever loved liberty.
The contest over the slavery question was growing extremely bitter.
Prudence Crandall of Canterbury, Conn., a young Quaker lady, admitted
several colored girls to her school, who came from Boston, New York, and
Philadelphia. The people were indignant at such a commingling of races.
Shopkeepers refused to sell her anything; her well was filled with
refuse, and at last her house was nearly torn down by a midnight mob.
Lane Theological Seminary, Cincinnati, Western Reserve College, Hudson,
O., with some others, were nearly broken up by the conflict of opinion.
Some anti-slavery lecturers were tarred and feathered or thrown into
prison. In New York, a pro-slavery mob broke in the doors and windows of
a Presbyterian church, and laid waste schoolhouses and dwellings of
colored people. In Philadelphia, the riots lasted three days, forty-four
houses of colored people being nearly or quite destroyed.
In Boston, a "most respectable" mob, composed, says Horace Greeley, "in
good part of merchants," dispersed a company of women belonging to the
Female Anti-Slavery Society, while its President was engaged in prayer.
Learning that Garrison was in the adjoining office, they shouted, "We
must have Garrison! Out with him! Lynch him!"
Attempting to escape by the advice of the Mayor, who was present, he
sought refuge in a carpenter's shop, but the crowd drew him out, and
coiling a rope around his body, dragged him bareheaded along the street.
One man called out, "He shan't be hurt; he is an American!" and this
probably saved his life, though many blows were aimed at his head, and
his clothes were nearly torn from his body. The Mayor declaring that he
could only be saved by being lodged in jail, Garrison pressed into a
hack, and was driven as rapidly as possible to the prison, the maddened
crowd clinging to the wheels, dashing against the doors and seizing hold
of the horses. At last he was behind the bars and out of their reach. On
the walls of his cell he wrote:--
"William 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. 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."
The "respectable" mob had wrought wiser than they knew. Garrison and his
"Liberator" became more widely known than ever. Famous men and women now
joined the despised Abolitionists. The conflict was growing deeper.
Elijah P. Lovejoy, the ardent young preacher of Alton, Illinois, was
murdered by four balls at the hands of a pro-slavery mob, who broke up
his printing-press, and threw it into the river. A public meeting was
held in Faneuil Hall to condemn such an outrage. A prominent man in the
gallery having risen to declare that Lovejoy "died as the fool dieth," a
young man, unknown to most, stepped to the rostrum, and spoke as though
inspired. From that day Wendell Phillips was the orator of America. From
that day the anti-slavery cause had a new consecration.
From this time till 1860 the struggle between freedom and slavery was
continuous. The South needed the Territories for her rapid increase of
slaves. The North was opposed; but in the year 1854 the Kansas-Nebraska
Act, devised by Stephen A. Douglas, repealed the Missouri Compromise of
1820, which had prohibited slavery north of latitude 36 deg. 30', the
southern boundary of Kansas. Kansas at once became a battle-ground.
Armed men came over from Missouri to establish slavery. Men came from
New England determined that the soil should be free, if they spilled
their blood to gain it. The Fugitive Slave Law, whereby slaves were
returned without trial by jury, and slave-owners allowed to search the
North for their slaves, made great bitterness. The brutal attack of
Preston Brooks, of South Carolina, on Charles Sumner, for his speech on
Kansas, and the hanging of John Brown by the State of Virginia for his
invasion of Harper's Ferry with seventeen white men and five negroes,
calling upon the slaves to rise and demand their liberty, brought
matters to a crisis.
Garrison was opposed to war; but after the firing on Sumter, April 12,
1861, it was inevitable. For two years after Abraham Lincoln's election
to the Presidency, Garrison waited impatiently for that pen-stroke which
set four million human beings free. When the Emancipation Proclamation
was issued, Jan. 1. 1863, Garrison's life-work was accomplished.
Thirty-five years of untiring, heroic struggle had not been in vain.
When two years later the stars and stripes were raised again over Fort
Sumter, he was invited by President Lincoln, as a guest of the
government, to witness the imposing scene. When Mr. Garrison arrived in
Charleston, the colored people were nearly wild with joy. Children sang
and men shouted. A slave made an address of welcome, his two daughters
bearing a wreath of flowers to their great benefactor. Garrison's heart
was full to overflowing as he replied, "Not unto us, not unto us, but
unto God be all the glory for what has been done in regard to your
emancipation.... Thank God, this day, that you are free. And be resolved
that, once free, you will be free forever. Liberty or death, but never
slavery! While God gives me reason and strength, I shall demand for you
everything I claim for the whitest of the white in this country."
The same year he discontinued the publication of the "Liberator,"
putting in type with his own hands the official ratification of the
Thirteenth Amendment, forever prohibiting slavery in the United States,
and adding, "Hail, redeemed, regenerated America! Hail, all nations,
tribes, kindred, and peoples, made of one blood, interested in a common
redemption, heirs of the same immortal destiny! Hail, angels in glory;
tune your harps anew, singing, 'Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord
God Almighty!'"
Two years after the war Mr. Garrison crossed the ocean for the fourth
time. He was no longer the poor lad setting type at thirteen, or
sleeping on the hard floor of a printing-room, or lying in a Baltimore
jail, or the victim of a Boston mob. He was the centre of a grand and
famous circle. The Duke and Duchess of Argyle and the Duchess of
Sutherland paid him special honors. John Bright presided at a public
breakfast given him at St. James' Hall, London. Such men as John Stuart
Mill, Herbert Spencer, and Prof. Huxley, graced the feast. Mr. Bright
said in his opening address, concerning Mr. Garrison: "His is the
creation of that opinion which has made slavery hateful, and which has
made freedom possible in America. His name is venerated in his own
country; venerated in this country and in Europe, wheresoever
Christianity softens the hearts and lessens the sorrows of men."
Edinburgh conferred upon him the freedom of the city, an honor accorded
to one other American only,--George Peabody. Birmingham, Manchester, and
other cities held great public meetings to do him reverence.
On his return, such friends as Sumner, Wilson, Emerson, Longfellow,
Lowell, Greeley, and others presented him with $30,000. The remainder of
his life he devoted to temperance, woman-suffrage, and every other
reform calculated to make the world better. His true character was shown
when, years before, appointed to the London Anti-Slavery Convention as a
delegate, he refused to take his seat after his long journey across the
ocean, because such noble co-workers as Lucretia Mott, Mrs. Wendell
Phillips, and others, were denied their place as delegates. Thus
strenuous was he for right and justice to all. Always modest, hopeful,
and cheerful, he was as gentle in his private life with his wife and
five children, as he was strong and fearless in his public career. He
died at the home of his daughter in New York, May 24, 1879, his children
singing about his bed, at his request:
"Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve,"
and,
"Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings."
At sunset, in Forest Hills, they laid the brave man to rest, a quartette
of colored singers around his open grave, singing, "I cannot always
trace the way."
"The storm and peril overpast,
The hounding hatred shamed and still,
Go, soul of freedom! take at last
The place which thou alone canst fill.
"Confirm the lesson taught of old--
Life saved for self is lost, while they
Who lose it in His service hold
The lease of God's eternal day."
GIUSEPPE GARIBALDI.
Few men come to greatness. Most drift on with the current, having no
special plan nor aim. They live where their fathers lived, taking no
thought beyond their neighborhood or city, and die in their little round
of social life.
Not so a boy born in Southern France, in 1807. Giuseppe Garibaldi was
the son of humble parents. His father was a sailor, with a numerous
family to support, seemingly unskilled in keeping what little property
he had once acquired. His mother was a woman of ambition, energy, and
nobility of character. If one looks for the cause of greatness in a man,
he seldom has to go further than the mother. Hence the need of a highly
educated, noble womanhood all over the world. Such as Giuseppe Garibaldi
are not born of frivolous, fashionable women.
Of his mother, the great soldier wrote in later years, "She was a model
for mothers. Her tender affection for me has, perhaps, been excessive;
but do I not owe to her love, to her angel-like character, the little
good that belongs to mine? Often, amidst the most arduous scenes of my
tumultuous life, when I have passed unharmed through the breakers of
the ocean or the hail-storms of battle, she has seemed present with me.
I have, in fancy, seen her on her knees before the Most High--my dear
mother!--imploring for the life of her son; and I have believed in the
efficacy of her prayers." No wonder that, "Give me the mothers of the
nation to educate, and you may do what you like with the boys," was one
of his favorite maxims.
[Illustration: GIUSEPPE GARIBALDI.]
Giuseppe was an ardent boy, fond of books, loving to climb the lonely
mountains around his home, and eager for some part of the world's
bustle. Sometimes he earned his living among the fishermen on the
Riviera; sometimes he took sea-voyages with his father. He had unusual
tenderness of heart, combined with fearlessness. One day he caught a
grasshopper, took it to his house, and, in handling it, broke its leg.
He was so grieved for the poor little creature, that he went to his room
and wept bitterly for hours. Another time, standing by a deep ditch, he
discovered that a woman had fallen from the bank as she was washing
clothes. With no thought for his own life, he sprang in and rescued her.
His parents, seeing that he was quick in mathematics and the languages,
desired him to study for the ministry; but he loved the sea and
adventure too well for a sedentary life. Becoming tired of study, at
twelve years of age, he and some companions procured a boat, put some
provisions and fishing-tackle on board, and started to make their
fortune in the East. These visions of greatness soon came to an
inglorious end; for the paternal Garibaldi put to sea at once, and soon
overtook and brought home the mortified and disappointed infantile crew.
At twenty-one, we find Garibaldi second in command on the brig
"Cortese," bound for the Black Sea. Three times during the voyage they
were plundered by Greek pirates, their sails, charts, and every article
of clothing taken from them, the sailors being obliged to cover their
bodies with some matting, left by chance in the hold of the ship. As a
result of this destitution, the young commander became ill at
Constantinople, and was cared for by some Italian exiles. Poor, as are
most who are born to be leaders, he must work now to pay the expenses
incurred by this illness. Through the kindness of his physician, he
found a place to teach, and when once more even with the world
pecuniarily, went back to sea, and was made captain.
He was now twenty-seven years old. Since his father had taken him when a
mere boy to Rome, he had longed for and prayed over his distracted
Italy. He saw what the Eternal City must have been in her ancient
splendor; he pictured her in the future, again the pride and glory of a
united nation. He remembered how Italy had been the battle-ground of
France, Spain, and Austria, when kings, as they have ever done,
quarrelled for power. He saw the conqueror of Europe himself conquered
by the dreadful Russian campaign: then the Congress of Vienna parcelling
out a prostrate people among the nations. Austria took Lombardy and
Venice; Parma and Lucca were given to Marie Louise, the second wife of
Napoleon; and the Two Sicilies to Ferdinand II., who ruled them with a
rod of iron. Citizens for small offences were lashed to death in the
public square. Filthy dungeons, excavated under the sea, without light
or air, were filled with patriots, whose only crime was a desire for a
free country. The people revolted in Naples and Sardinia, and asked for
a constitution; but Austria soon helped to restore despotism. Kings had
divine rights; the people had none. No man lessens his power willingly.
The only national safety is the least possible power in the hands of any
one person. The rule of the many is liberty; of the few, despotism.
Garibaldi was writing all these things on his heart. His blood boiled at
the slavery of his race. Mazzini, a young lawyer of Genoa, had just
started a society called "Young Italy," and was looking hopefully, in a
hopeless age, toward a republic for his native country. Garibaldi was
ready to help in any manner possible. The plan proposed was to seize the
village of St. Julien, and begin the revolt; but, as usual, there was a
traitor in the camp: they were detected; and Garibaldi, like the rest,
was sentenced to death. This was an unexpected turn of events for the
young sea-captain. Donning the garb of a peasant, he escaped by mountain
routes to Nice, his only food being chestnuts, bade a hasty farewell to
his precious mother, and started for South America. He had learned,
alas, so soon, the result of working for freedom in Italy!
He arrived at Rio Janeiro, an exile and poor; but, finding several of
his banished countrymen, they assisted him in buying a trading-vessel;
and he engaged in commerce. But his mind constantly dwelt on freedom.
The Republic of Rio Grande had just organized and set up its authority
against Brazil. Here was a chance to fight for liberty. A small cruiser
was obtained, which he called "The Mazzini," and, with twenty
companions, he set out to combat an empire. After capturing a boat
loaded with copper, the second vessel they met gave battle, wounded
Garibaldi in the neck, and made them all prisoners.
A little later, attempting to escape, he was brutally beaten with a
club, and then his wrists tied together by a rope, which was flung over
a beam. He was suspended in the air for two hours. His sufferings were
indescribable. Fever parched his body, and the rope cut his flesh. He
was rescued by a fearless lady, Senora Alemon, but for whom he would
have died. After two months, finding that he would divulge nothing of
the plans of his adopted republic, he was released without trial, and
entered the war again at once.
After several successful battles, his vessel was shipwrecked, nearly all
his friends were drowned, and he escaped as by a miracle. His heart now
became desolate. He says in his diary, "I felt the want of some one to
love me, and a desire that such a one might be very soon supplied, as my
present state of mind seemed insupportable." After all, the brave young
captain was human, and cried out for a human affection. He had "always
regarded woman as the most perfect of creatures"; but he had never
thought it possible to marry with his adventurous life.
About this time he met a dark-haired, dark-eyed, young woman, tall and
commanding, and as brave and fearless as himself. Anita belonged to a
wealthy family, and her father was incensed at the union, though years
after, when Garibaldi became famous, he wrote them a letter of
forgiveness. They idolized each other; and the soldier's heart knew
desolation no longer, come now what would. She stood beside him in every
battle, waving her sword over her head to encourage the men to their
utmost. When a soldier fell dead at her feet, she seized his carbine,
and kept up a constant fire. When urged by her husband to go below,
because almost frantic with fear for her safety, she replied, "If I do,
it will be but to drive out those cowards who have sought concealment
there," and then return to the fight. In one of the land-battles she was
surrounded by twenty or more of the enemy; but she put spurs to her
horse, and dashed through their midst. At first they seemed dazed, as
though she were something unearthly; then they fired, killing her
animal, which fell heavily to the ground; and she was made a prisoner.
Obtaining permission to search among the dead for her husband, and, not
finding him, she determined to make her escape. That night, while they
slept, she seized a horse, plunged into the forests, and for four days
lived without food. On the last night,--a stormy one,--closely pursued
by several of the enemy, she urged her horse into a swollen river, five
hundred yards broad, and seizing fast hold of his tail, the noble
creature swam across, dragging her with him. After eight days she
reached her agonized husband, and their joy was complete.
After a year or more of battles and hardships, their first child,
Menotti, was born, named for the great Italian Liberal. Garibaldi,
fighting for a poor republic, destitute of everything for his wife and
child, started across the marshes to purchase a few articles of
clothing. In his absence, their little company was attacked by the
Imperialists, and Anita mounted her saddle in a pitiless storm, and fled
to the woods with her twelve-days-old infant. Three months later the
child came near dying, the mother carrying him in a handkerchief tied
round her neck, and keeping him warm with her breath, as they forded
swamps and rivers.
After six years of faithful service for the South American Republic,
Garibaldi determined to settle down to a more quiet life, with his
little family, and sought a home at Montevideo, where he took up his
former occupation of teaching. But he was soon drawn into war again, and
his famous "Italian Legion," of about four hundred men, made for
themselves a record throughout Europe and America for bravery and
success against fearful odds. The grateful people made Garibaldi
"General," and placed a large tract of land at the disposal of the
Legion; but the leader said, "In obedience to the cause of liberty alone
did the Italians of Montevideo take up arms, and not with any views of
gain or advancement," and the gift was declined. Yet so poor was the
family of Garibaldi, that they used to go to bed at sunset because they
had no candles; and his only shirt he had given to a companion in arms.
When his destitution became known, the minister of war sent him one
hundred dollars. He accepted half for Anita and her little ones, and
begged that the other half might be given to a poor widow.