ourselves that the sun was getting low. We intended to describe a
circuit in returning, so as to make as much of our road as possible lie
along the beach. Never was the world bathed in a lovelier atmosphere
than this evening. The rocks, particularly the island called Egg Rock,
were of that soft lilach hue which harmonizes with the green sea on
sunny evenings. While this light was brightest, we suddenly came upon a
busy and remarkable scene--the hamlet of Swampscot, on the beach--the
place where novel-readers go to look for Mucklebacket's cottage, so much
does it resemble the beach scenes in the Antiquary. Boats were drawn up
on the shore, the smallest boats, really for use, that I ever saw. They
are flatbottomed, and are tenanted by one man, or, at most, two, when
going out for cod. The men are much cramped in these tiny boats, and
need exercise when they come to shore, and we saw a company playing at
quoits at the close of their working-day. Many children were at play,
their little figures seen in black relief against the sea, or trailing
long shadows over the washed and glistening sands. Women were coming
homeward with their milkpans or taking in their linen from the lines.
All were busy, and all looked joyous. While my companions were
bargaining for fish I had time to watch the singular scene; and when it
was necessary to be gone, and we turned up into the darkening lanes away
from the sea, we looked back to the last moment upon this busy reach of
the bright shore.
The scenery of Massachusetts Bay is a treasure which Boston possesses
over and above what is enjoyed by her sister cities of the East.
New-York has a host of beauties about her, it is true; the North River,
Hoboken, and Staten Island; but there is something in the singularity of
Nahant and the wild beauty of Cape Ann more captivating than the
crowded, fully-appropriated beauties round New-York. Philadelphia,
Baltimore, and Washington have no environs which can compare with either
of the Northern cities. The islands which lie off Charleston, and where
the less opulent citizens repair for health in the hot months, are
praised more for their freshness and fertility than for any romantic
beauty; and the coasts of the South are flat and shoaly. The South has
the advantage in the winter, when none but the hardiest fishermen can be
abroad to watch the march of the wintry storms over the Northern sea and
sky; but in summer and autumn, when the Southerners who cannot afford
to travel are panting and sickening in the glare among sands and swamps,
the poorest of the citizens of Massachusetts may refresh himself amid
the seabreezes on the bright promontories or cool caverns of his native
shore.
SIGNS OF THE TIMES IN MASSACHUSETTS.
"II ne faut pas une bien grande force d'esprit pour comprendre que
ni les richesses ni le pouvoir ne rendent heureux. Assez de gens
sentent cette vérité. Mais de ceux qui la connoissent pleinement et
se conduisent en conséquence, le nombre en est si petit qu'il
semble que ce soit là l'effort le plus rare de la raison humaine."
--PAUL LOUIS COURIER.
Some few years hence it will be difficult to believe what the state of
the times was in some parts of the United States, and even in the
maritime cities, in 1835. The system of terrorism seems now to be over.
It did not answer its purpose, and is dropped; but in 1835 it was new
and dreadful. One of the most hideous features of the times was the
ignorance and unconcern of a large portion of society about what was
being done and suffered by other divisions of its members. I suppose,
while Luther was toiling and thundering, German ladies and gentlemen
were supping and dancing as usual; and while the Lollards were burning,
perhaps little was known or cared about it in warehouses and upon farms.
So it was in America. The gentry with whom I chiefly associated in
New-York knew little of the troubles of the abolitionists in that city,
and nothing about the state of the anti-slavery question in their own
region. In Boston I heard very striking facts which had taken place in
broad daylight vehemently and honestly denied by many who happened to be
ignorant of what had been done in their very streets. Not a few persons
applied to me, a stranger, for information about the grand revolution of
the time which was being transacted, not only on their own soil, but in
the very city of their residence. A brief sketch of what I saw and
experienced in Boston during the autumn of 1835 will afford some little
information as to what the state of society actually was.
At the end of August a grand meeting was held at Faneuil Hall in Boston.
The hall was completely filled with the gentry of the city, and some of
the leading citizens took the responsibility and conducted the
proceedings of the day. The object of the meeting was to sooth the
South, by directing public indignation upon the abolitionists. The
pretext of the assembly was, that the Union was in danger; and though
the preamble to the resolutions declared disapprobation of the
institution of slavery, the resolutions themselves were all inspired by
fear of or sympathy with slaveholders. They reprobated all agitation of
the question, and held out assurances to the South that every
consideration should be made subordinate to the grand one of preserving
the Union. The speeches were a disgrace to the constituents of a
democratic republic, pointed as they were against those rights of free
discussion and association at the time acted upon by fellow-citizens,
and imbued with deference for the South. In the crowded assembly no
voice was raised in disapprobation except when a speaker pointed to the
portrait of Washington as "that slaveholder;" and even then the murmur
soon died into silence. The gentlemen went home, trusting that they had
put down the abolitionists and conciliated the South. In how short a
time did the new legislature of the State pass, in that very city, a
series of thorough-going abolition resolutions, sixteen constituting the
minority! while the South had already been long despising the
half-and-half doctrine of the Faneuil Hall meeting!
Meantime, the immediate result of the proceeding was the mob of which I
have elsewhere given an account.[12] After that mob the regular meetings
of the abolitionists were suspended for want of a place to meet in.
Incessant attempts were made to hire any kind of public building, but no
one would take the risk of having his property destroyed by letting it
to so obnoxious a set of people. For six weeks exertions were made in
vain. At last a Boston merchant, who had built a pleasant house for
himself and his family, said, that while he had a roof over his head,
his neighbours should not want a place in which to hold a legal meeting
for honest objects; and he sent an offer of his house to the ladies of
the Anti-slavery Society. They appointed their meeting for three o'clock
in the afternoon of Wednesday, November 18. They were obliged to make
known their intentions as they best could, for no newspaper would admit
their advertisements, and the clergy rarely ventured to give out their
notices, among others, from the pulpit.
Footnote 12: Society in America, vol. i., p. 169-176.
I was at this time slightly acquainted with three or four abolitionists,
and I was distrusted by most or all of the body who took any interest in
me at all. My feelings were very different from theirs about the
slaveholders of the South; naturally enough, as these Southern
slaveholders were nothing else in the eyes of abolitionists, while to me
they were, in some cases, personal friends, and, in more, hospitable
entertainers. It was known, however, that I had declared my intention of
attending an abolition meeting. This was no new resolution. From the
outset of my inquiry into the question, I had declared that, having
attended colonization meetings, and heard all that the slaveholders had
to say for themselves and against abolitionists, I felt myself bound to
listen to the other side of the question. I always professed my
intention of seeking acquaintance with the abolitionists, though I then
fully and involuntarily believed two or three charges against them which
I found to be wholly groundless. The time was now come for discharging
this duty.
On the Monday, two friends, then only new acquaintances, called on me at
the house of a clergyman where I was staying, three miles from Boston. A
late riot at Salem was talked over, a riot in which the family of Mr.
Thompson had been driven from one house to another three times in one
night, the children being snatched from their beds, carried abroad in
the cold, and injuriously terrified. It was mentioned that the ladies of
the Anti-slavery Society were going to attempt a meeting on the next
Wednesday, and I was asked whether I was in earnest in saying that I
would attend one of their meetings. Would I go to this one if I should
be invited? I replied that it depended entirely on the nature of the
meeting. If it was merely a meeting for the settlement of accounts and
the despatch of business, where I should not learn what I wanted, I
should wait for a less perilous time; if it was a _bonâ fide_ public
meeting, a true reflection of the spirit and circumstances of the time
and the cause, I would go. The matter was presently decided by the
arrival of a regular official invitation to me to attend the meeting,
and to carry with me the friend who was my travelling companion, and
any one else who might be disposed to accompany me.
Trifling as these circumstances may now appear, they were no trifles at
the time; and many considerations were involved in the smallest movement
a stranger made on the question. The two first things I had to take care
of were to avoid involving my host in any trouble I might get into, and
to afford opportunity to my companion to judge for herself what she
would do. My host had been reviled in the newspapers already for having
read a notice (among several others) of an anti-slavery meeting from Dr.
Channing's pulpit, where he was accidentally preaching. My object was to
prevent his giving an opinion on anything that I should do, that he
might not be made more or less responsible for my proceedings. I handed
the invitation to my companion, with a hint not to speak of it. We
separately made up our minds to go, and announced our determination to
our host and hostess. Between joke and earnest, they told us we should
be mobbed; and the same thing was repeated by many who were not in joke
at all.
At two o'clock on the Wednesday we arrived at the house of a gentleman
where we were to meet a few of the leading abolitionists, and dine,
previous to the meeting. Our host was miserably ill that day, unfit to
be out of his chamber; but he exerted himself to the utmost, being
resolved to escort his wife to the meeting. During dinner, the
conversation was all about the Southern gentry, in whose favour I said
all I could, and much more than the party could readily receive; which
was natural enough, considering that they and I looked at the people of
the South from different points of view. Before we issued forth on our
expedition I was warned once more that exertions had been made to get up
a mob, and that it was possible we might be dispersed by violence. When
we turned into the street where the house of meeting stood, there were
about a dozen boys hooting before the door, as they saw ladies of colour
entering. We were admitted without having to wait an instant on the
steps, and the door was secured behind us.
The ladies assembled in two drawing-rooms, thrown into one by the
folding-doors being opened. The total number was a hundred and thirty.
The president sat at a small table by the folding-doors, and before her
was a large Bible, paper, pens, and ink, and the secretary's papers.
There were only three gentlemen in the house, its inhabitant, the
gentleman who escorted us, and a clergyman who had dined with us. They
remained in the hall, keeping the front door fastened, and the back way
clear for our retreat, if retreat should be necessary. But the number of
hooters in the streets at no time exceeded thirty, and they treated us
to nothing worse than a few yells.
A lady who sat next me amused me by inquiring, with kindness, whether it
revolted my feelings to meet thus in assembly with people of colour. She
was as much surprised as pleased with my English deficiency of all
feeling on the subject. My next neighbour on the other hand was Mrs.
Thompson, the wife of the anti-slavery lecturer, who had just effected
his escape, and was then on the sea. The proceedings began with the
reading of a few texts of Scripture by the president. My first
impression was that the selection of these texts gave out a little
vainglory about the endurance of persecution; but when I remembered that
this was the reunion of persons who had been dispersed by a mob, and
when I afterward became aware how cruelly many of the members had been
wounded in their moral sense, their domestic affections, and their
prospects in life, I was quite ready to yield my too nice criticism. A
prayer then followed, the spirit of which appeared to me perfect in
hopefulness, meekness, and gentleness. While the secretary was afterward
reading her report, a note was handed to me, the contents of which sunk
my spirits fathom deep for the hour. It was a short pencil note from one
of the gentlemen in the hall; and it asked me whether I had any
objection to give a word of sympathy to the meeting, fellow-labourers as
we had long been in behalf of the principles in whose defence they were
met. The case was clear as daylight to my conscience. If I had been a
mere stranger, attending with a mere stranger's interest to the
proceedings of a party of natives, I might and ought to have declined
mixing myself up with their proceedings. But I had long before published
against slavery, and always declared my conviction that this was a
question of humanity, not of country or race; a moral, not a merely
political question; a general affair, and not one of city, state, party,
or nation. Having thus declared on the safe side of the Atlantic, I was
bound to act up to my declaration on the unsafe side, if called upon. I
thought it a pity that the call had been made, though I am now very
glad that it was, as it was the means of teaching me more of the temper
and affairs of the times than I could have known by any other means, and
as it ripened the regard which subsisted between myself and the writer
of the note into a substantial, profitable, and delightful friendship;
but, at the moment, I foresaw none of these good consequences, but a
formidable array of very unpleasant ones. I foresaw that almost every
house in Boston, except those of the abolitionists, would be shut
against me; that my relation to the country would be completely changed,
as I should be suddenly transformed from being a guest and an observer
to being considered a missionary or a spy; and results even more serious
than this might reasonably be anticipated. During the few minutes I had
for consideration, the wife of the writer of the note came to me, and
asked what I thought of it, begging me to feel quite at liberty to
attend to it or not, as I liked. I felt that I had no such liberty. I
was presently introduced to the meeting, when I offered the note as my
reason for breaking the silence of a stranger, and made the same
declarations of my abhorrence of slavery and my agreement in the
principles of the abolitionists which I had expressed throughout the
whole of my travels through the South.
Of the consequences of this simple affair it is not my intention to give
any account, chiefly because it would be impossible to convey to my
English readers my conviction of the smallness of the portion of
American society which was concerned in the treatment inflicted upon me.
The hubbub was so great, and the modes of insult were so various, as to
justify distant observers in concluding that the whole nation had risen
against me. I soon found how few can make a great noise, while the many
are careless or ignorant of what is going on about a person or a party
with whom they have nothing to do; and while not a few are rendered more
hearty in their regard and more generous in their hospitality by the
disgraces of the individual who is under the oppression of public
censure. All that I anticipated at the moment of reading the note came
to pass, but only for a time. Eventually, nothing remained which in the
slightest degree modified my opinions or impaired my hopes of the
society I was investigating.
The secretary's report was drawn up with remarkable ability, and some
animating and beautiful letters were read from distant members of the
association. The business which had been interrupted by violence was put
in train again; and, when the meeting broke up, a strong feeling of
satisfaction visibly pervaded it. The right of meeting was vindicated;
righteous pertinacity had conquered violence, and no immediate check to
the efforts of the society was to be apprehended.
The trials of the abolitionists of Boston were, however, not yet over.
Two months before, the attorney-general of the state had advocated in
council the expected demand of the South, that abolitionists should be
delivered up to the Slave States for trial and punishment under Southern
laws. This fact is credible to those, and, perhaps, to those only, who
have seen the pamphlet in reply to Dr. Channing's work on Slavery
attributed to this gentleman. The South was not long in making the
demand. Letters arrived from the governors of Southern States to the new
governor of Massachusetts, demanding the passing of laws against
abolitionism in all its forms. The governor, as was his business, laid
these letters before the legislature of his state. This was the only
thing he could do on this occasion. Just before, at his entrance upon
his office, he had aimed his blow at the abolitionists in the following
passages of his address. The same delusion (if it be mere delusion) is
visible here that is shared by all persons in power, who cannot deny
that an evil exists, but have not courage to remove it; a vague hope
that "fate, or Providence, or something," will do the work which men are
created to perform; men of principle and men of peace, like the
abolitionists; victims, not perpetrators of violence. "As the genius of
our institutions and the character of our people are entirely repugnant
to laws impairing the liberty of speech and of the press, even for the
sake of repressing its abuses, the patriotism of all classes of citizens
must be invoked to abstain from a discussion which, by exasperating the
master, can have no other effect than to render more oppressive the
condition of the slave; and which, if not abandoned, there is great
reason to fear will prove the rock on which the Union will split." ...
"A conciliatory forbearance," he proceeds to say, "would leave this
whole painful subject where the Constitution leaves it, with the states
where it exists, and in the hands of an all-wise Providence, who in his
own good time is able to cause it to disappear, like the slavery of the
ancient world, under the gradual operation of the gentle spirit of
Christianity." The time is at hand. The "gradual operation of the gentle
spirit of Christianity" had already educated the minds and hearts of the
abolitionists for the work they are doing, but which the governor would
fain have put off. It thus appears that they had the governor and
attorney-general of the state against them, and the wealth, learning,
and power of their city. It will be seen how their legislature was
affected towards them.
As soon as they were aware of the demands of the Southern governors,
they petitioned their legislature for a hearing, according to the
invariable practice of persons who believe that they may be injured by
the passing of any proposed law. The hearing was granted, as a matter of
course; and a committee of five members of the legislature was appointed
to hear what the abolitionists had to say. The place and time appointed
were the Senate Chamber, on the afternoon of Friday, the 4th of March.
The expectation had been that few or none but the parties immediately
concerned would be present at the discussion of such "a low subject;"
but the event proved that more curiosity was abroad than had been
supposed. I went just before the appointed hour, and took my seat with
my party, in the empty gallery of the Senate Chamber. The abolitionists
dropped in one by one; Garrison, May, Goodell, Follen, E. G. Loring, and
others. The committee treated them with ostentatious neglect, dawdling
away the time, and keeping them waiting a full hour beyond the appointed
time. The gallery filled rapidly, and more and more citizens entered the
room below. To our great delight, Dr. Channing made his appearance
there. At length it was manifest that the Senate Chamber was not large
enough; and we adjourned to the Hall of Representatives, which was soon
about two thirds filled.
I could not have conceived that such conduct could have been ventured
upon as that of the chairman of the committee. It was so insulting as to
disgust the citizens present, whatever might be their way of thinking on
the question which brought them together. The chairman and another of
the five were evidently predetermined. They spared no pains in showing
it, twisting the meaning of expressions employed by the pleaders, noting
down any disjointed phrase which could be made to tell against those who
used it, conveying sarcasms in their questions and insult in their
remarks. Two others evidenced a desire to fulfil their function, to hear
what the abolitionists had to say. Dr. Channing took his seat behind the
pleaders; and I saw with pleasure that he was handing them notes, acting
on their side as decisively, and almost as publicly as if he had spoken.
After several unanswerable defences against charges had been made, and
Mr. Loring had extorted the respect of the committee by a speech in
which he showed that a legislative censure is more injurious than penal
laws, it was Dr. Follen's turn to speak. He was presently stopped by the
chairman, with a command that he should be respectful to the committee;
with an intimation that the gentlemen were heard only as a matter of
favour. They protested against this, their hearing having been demanded
as a matter of right; they refused to proceed, and broke up the
conference.
Much good was done by this afternoon's proceedings. The feeling of the
bystanders was, on the whole, decidedly in favour of the pleaders, and
the issue of the affair was watched with much interest. The next day the
abolitionists demanded a hearing as a matter of right; and it was
granted likewise as an affair of course. The second hearing was
appointed for Tuesday the 8th, at the same place and hour.
Some well-meaning friends of the abolitionists had in the interval
advised that the most accomplished, popular, and gentlemanly of the
abolitionists should conduct the business of the second day; that the
speeches should be made by Dr. Follen, Messrs. Loring and Sewall, and
one or two more; and that Garrison and Goodell, the homely, primitive,
and eminently suffering men of the apostleship, should be induced to
remain in the background. The advice was righteously rejected; and, as
it happened, theirs were the speeches that went farthest in winning over
the feeling of the audience to their side. I shall never forget the
swimming eye and tremulous voice with which a noble lady of the
persecuted party answered such a suggestion as I have mentioned. "Oh,"
said she, "above all things, we must be just and faithful to Garrison.
You do not know what we know; that, unless we put him, on every
occasion, into the midst of the _gentlemen_ of the party, he will be
torn to pieces. Nothing can save him but his being made one with those
whom his enemies will not dare to touch." As for Mr. Goodell, he had
been frequently stoned. "He was used to it." They appeared in the midst
of the professional gentlemen of the association, and did the most
eminent service of the day.