When, on his return from England in October, 1833, Mr. Garrison
informed us that he had obtained from George Thompson--the champion of
the triumphant conflict for West India emancipation--the promise to
“come over and help us,” if we concurred in the invitation Mr. Garrison
had given him, our hearts were encouraged, our hands strengthened,
our purpose confirmed. Our own great antislavery orators, male and
female, who since then have done so much to convict and convert the
nation, had not yet appeared. Theodore D. Weld and Henry B. Stanton
were studying theology in Lane Seminary; Parker Pillsbury, Stephen S.
Foster, and John A. Collins were doing likewise somewhere in Vermont;
Henry C. Wright had not plucked up quite courage enough to justify Mr.
Garrison’s terrible denunciations of slaveholders and their abettors;
James G. Birney was the Secretary of the Kentucky Colonization Society;
Gerrit Smith had not got wholly out of the toils of that fraudulent
scheme which had deceived “the very elect”; Charles C. Burleigh was an
unknown youth in Plainfield Academy; Wendell Phillips, our Apollo, was
just preparing to leap into his place at the head of the Massachusetts
bar; and Angelina Grimké, Lucy Stone, Abby Kelly Foster, Susan B.
Anthony, Antoinette L. Brown, Sallie Holley, and other excellent women,
who have since rendered such signal services, had not then left “the
appropriate sphere of women.”
That George Thompson would come to our aid, the orator to whose
relentless logic and surpassing eloquence, more than to any other
instrumentality, Lord Brougham had just attributed the triumph of the
antislavery cause in England,--that he was about coming to help us did
seem at that time a godsend indeed. But, as was stated in my last, his
coming was deferred a year, that the Abolitionists of Great Britain
and Ireland might not lay aside their well-used weapons, nor cease
from their warfare, while so many millions of human beings remained
in the most abject slavery, especially in the United States, where
the horrid institution was established by the authority of England.
Having re-enlisted his fellow-laborers throughout the United Kingdom to
co-operate with us, he came to Boston in the fall of 1834.
At that time I was devoting a few weeks of permitted absence from my
church in Connecticut to a lecturing tour in the antislavery cause,
and came to Mr. Garrison’s house in Roxbury an hour after the arrival
of Mr. Thompson. He readily consented to go with us the next day to
Groton, there to attend a county convention. We gladly spent the
remainder of that day together, in earnest and prayerful communion
over the great work in which we had engaged; and at night repaired
to lodge at the Earl Hotel in Hanover Street, that we might not fail
to be off for Groton the next morning at four o’clock, in the first
stage-coach, no conveyance thither by railroad being extant then.
At the appointed hour, the house being well filled, the meeting was
called to order, and business commenced. As all were eager to see
and hear the great English orator, preliminary matters were disposed
of as soon as practicable. Then Mr. Thompson was called up by a
resolution enthusiastically passed, declaring our appreciation of the
inestimable value of his antislavery labors in England, our joy that
he had come to aid us to deliver our country from the dominion of
slaveholders, and our wish that he would occupy as much of the time of
the convention as his inclination might prompt and his strength would
enable him to do. He rose, and soon enchained the attention of all
present. He set forth the essential, immitigable sin of holding human
beings as slaves in a light, if possible, more vivid, more intense,
than even Mr. Garrison had thrown upon that “sum of all villanies.” He
illustrated and sustained his assertions by the most pertinent facts
in the history of West India slavery. He inculcated the spirit in
which we ought to prosecute our endeavor to emancipate the bondmen,--a
spirit of compassion for the masters as well as their slaves,--a
compassion too considerate of the harm which the slaveholder suffers,
as well as inflicts, to consent to any continuance of the iniquity.
He most solemnly enjoined the use of only moral and political means
and instrumentalities to effect the subversion and extermination of
the gigantic system of iniquity, although it seemed to tower above
and overshadow the civil and religious institutions of our country.
He showed us that he justly appreciated the greater difficulties of
the work to be done in our land, than of that which had just been
so gloriously accomplished in England, but exhorted us to trust
undoubtingly in “the might of the right,”--the mercy, the justice, the
power of God,--and to go forward in the full assurance that He, who had
crowned the labors of the British Abolitionists with such a triumph,
would enable us in like manner to accomplish the greater work he had
given us to do.
Mr. Thompson then went on to give us a graphic, glowing account of the
long and fierce conflict they had had in England for the abolition
of slavery in the British West Indies. His eloquence rose to a still
higher order. His narrative became _a continuous metaphor_, admirably
sustained. He represented the antislavery enterprise in which he
had been so long engaged as a stout, well-built ship, manned by a
noble-hearted crew, launched upon a stormy ocean, bound to carry
inestimable relief to 800,000 sufferers in a far-distant land. He
clothed all the kinds of opposition they had met, all the difficulties
they had contended with, in imagery suggested by the observation and
experience of the voyager across the Atlantic in the most tempestuous
season of the year. In the height of his descriptions, my attention was
withdrawn from the emotions enkindled in my own bosom sufficiently to
observe the effect of his eloquence upon half a dozen boys, of twelve
or fourteen years of age, sitting together not far from the platform.
They were completely possessed by it. When the ship reeled or plunged
or staggered in the storms, they unconsciously went through the same
motions. When the enemy attacked her, the boys took the liveliest part
in battle,--manning the guns, or handing shot and shell, or pressing
forward to repulse the boarders. When the ship struck upon an iceberg,
the boys almost fell from their seats in the recoil. When the sails
and topmasts were wellnigh carried away by the gale, they seemed to
be straining themselves to prevent the damage; and when at length the
ship triumphantly sailed into her destined port with colors flying
and signals of glad tidings floating from her topmast, and the shout
of welcome rose from thousands of expectant freedmen on the shore,
the boys gave three loud cheers, “Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!” This
irrepressible explosion of their feelings brought them at once to
themselves. They blushed, covered their faces, sank down on their
seats, one of them upon the floor. It was an ingenuous, thrilling
tribute to the surpassing power of the orator, and only added to the
zest and heartiness with which the whole audience applauded (to use the
words of another at the time) “the persuasive reasonings, the earnest
appeals, the melting pathos, the delightful but caustic irony and
enrapturing eloquence of Mr. Thompson.”
Thus commenced his brilliant career in this country. The Groton
Convention lasted two days, the 1st and 2d of October. Mr. Thompson
went thence immediately to Lowell, where he spoke to a delighted crowd
on the 5th. Four days after, on the 9th of October, he gave his first
address in Boston. It was at an adjourned meeting of the Massachusetts
Antislavery Society. All the prominent Abolitionists, who could be,
were there to see and hear “the almost inspired apostle of negro
emancipation,” who had “come over to help us.” Every one that heard
him then felt that his signal gifts had not been overrated, and joined
in thanksgiving to the God of the oppressed, whose Holy Spirit, we
believed, had moved him to consecrate those gifts to the abolition of
slavery.
Reports of Mr. Thompson’s eloquence spread rapidly, and invitations
came to him from all quarters. The day after the meeting in Boston he
went into the State of Maine, and lectured on the 12th in Portland,
on the 13th in Brunswick, on the 15th in Augusta. Everywhere he was
heard with delight, and made many converts. At Augusta, it is true,
he received an angry letter from five “gentlemen of property and
standing,” informing him that his “coming to their city had given great
offence,” and admonishing him not to presume to address the public
there again. But his engagements elsewhere, rather than their threats,
obliged him to leave immediately. The next evening he lectured in the
neighboring city of Hallowell, where the people heard him gladly. On
the 17th he delivered an address in Waterville, which was listened to
by most of the students and several of the faculty of the College, and
made deep impressions upon a large number. On the 20th he spoke again
to a crowded audience in Brunswick, with like effect upon the students
and faculty of Bowdoin College. Returning, he lectured at Portland in
six different churches, to large and delighted audiences, before the
close of the month; and then came into New Hampshire and gave lectures
in Plymouth, Concord, and other places, on his way back to Boston.
After a few days’ repose, he went forth again, in answer to many
urgent invitations, and lifted up his voice for the enslaved in Rhode
Island, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. Whoever will
turn over the leaves of the _Liberator_ for 1834 and 1835 will find
on almost every page some admiring mention of Mr. Thompson’s lectures
or speeches, and grateful acknowledgments of the deep impressions his
words had made.
It is true that in the same paper will be found, under the appropriate
head “_Refuge of Oppression_,” extracts from newspapers and letters
from all parts of the country, denouncing, execrating him, and calling
upon the patriotic to put a stop to his incendiary career. He was a
foreign intruder, who had come here to “meddle with a delicate matter
about which he could know nothing.” He was “a British emissary, sent
to embroil the Northern with the Southern States, and break up our
glorious Union.” He was “the paid agent of the enemies of republican
institutions, supported in our midst, that he might do all in his
power to prevent the success of the grandest experiment in national
government ever tried on earth.” The changes were rung on these and
similar charges until those, who could be deceived thereby, were
maddened in their fear and hatred of Mr. Thompson. He was threatened
with all kinds of ill-treatment; yet he went fearlessly wherever he was
invited to speak, and not unfrequently disarmed and converted some who
had come to the meetings intending to do him harm.
In several of his lecturing tours I was his companion; and I wondered
how any persons who heard him speak, in public or in private, could
suspect or be persuaded that he was an enemy of our country. I was
continually surprised, as well as delighted, by the evidences he gave
of his just appreciation of the principles of our government, and the
admiration of them that he always cordially expressed. Having hitherto
contemplated our Republic from a distance, he seemed to have taken
a more comprehensive view of it than too many of our own citizens,
even statesmen, had done, whose regard for the whole nation had been
warped by their concern for the supposed interests of a section or a
State. Mr. Thompson’s detestation of slavery was intensified by his
clear perception of the corruption it had diffused throughout our body
politic and body ecclesiastic; and, if not abolished, the ruin it
would inevitably bring upon our country, called, in the providence of
God, to be “the land of the free and the asylum of the oppressed.” No
American patriot ever felt, for no human heart could feel, a deeper,
more sincere, or more intelligent concern for the honor, glory,
perpetuity of our Republic than Mr. Thompson felt and evinced in his
every word and act. Few home-born lovers of our country have done a
tithe as much as he did to save her from the ruin she was bringing upon
herself by her recreancy to the fundamental principles, upon which she
professed to stand. Not a dozen names, of those who have lived within
the last forty years, deserve to stand higher on the list of our public
benefactors than the name of George Thompson.
Yet was he maligned, hated, hunted, driven from our shores. The story
of the treatment he received is too shameful to be told. During the
last six months of his stay here the persecution of him was continuous.
The newspapers, from Maine to Georgia, with a few most honorable
exceptions, denounced him daily, and called for his punishment as an
enemy, or his expulsion from the country. Those few who dared to tell
the truth testified, not only to his enrapturing eloquence and his
friendliness to our nation, but to his eminently Christian deportment
and spirit. But the tide of persecution could not be stayed. He was
often insulted in the streets. Meetings to which he spoke, or at which
he was expected to speak, were broken up by mobs. Rewards were offered
for his person or his life. Twice I assisted to help his escape from
the hands of hired ruffians.
All this he bore, for the most part, with fortitude and sweet
serenity. He seemed less apprehensive of his danger than his friends
were. Sometimes he overawed the men who were sent to take him by his
dignified, heroic bearing, and at other times dispelled their evil
intentions by his pertinent wit. I will give a single instance. At one
of the last meetings he addressed in Boston, some Southerners cried
out:--
“We wish we had you at the South. We would cut your ears off, if not
your head.”
Mr. Thompson promptly replied: “Would you? Then should I cry out
all the louder, ‘He that _hath_ ears to hear let him hear.’” It was
irresistible. I believe the Southerners themselves joined in the
rapturous applause.
On the 27th of September, 1835, we left Boston together in a private
conveyance,--he to lecture at Abington, one of the most antislavery
towns in the State, and I at Halifax, a few miles beyond. On my return
the next morning I learnt that there had been a fearful onslaught
upon Mr. Thompson; and, when I called to take him back to the city, I
found him more subdued than I had ever seen him. He had not expected
ill-usage there. As we passed the meeting-house, from which he and
his audience had been routed the night before, he was overcome by
his emotions. There lay strewn upon the ground fragments of windows,
blinds, and doors, and some of the heavy missiles with which they had
been broken down. He fell back in the chaise, and for several minutes
gave way to his feelings. When able to command himself he said:--
“What does it mean? Am I indeed an enemy of your country? Do I deserve
this at your hands? Testify against me if you can, Mr. May. You know,
if any one does, what sentiments I have uttered, what spirit I have
evinced. You have been with me in private and in public. Have you
ever suspected me? Have you ever heard a word from my lips unfriendly
to your country,--your magnificent, your might-be-glorious, but your
awfully guilty country? What have I said, what have I done, that I
should be treated as an enemy? Have not all my words and all my acts
tended to the removal of an evil which is your nation’s disgrace, and,
if permitted to continue, must be your ruin?”
We rode on in silence, for he knew my answers without hearing them from
my lips. But the outrage at Abington assured us that the spirit of
persecution was rife in the land, and might manifest itself anywhere.
Nevertheless, Mr. Thompson accepted an invitation to lecture a few
days afterwards in the afternoon, by daylight, at East Abington.
Accordingly, on the 15th of October, I went with him to the appointed
place. We had been credibly informed that a number of men were going
thither to take him, if they could do so without harm to themselves.
But the good men and women of the town and neighborhood were up to
the occasion. The meeting-house was crowded, so that, though the evil
intenders were there in force, they soon saw that the capture could not
be made there. And then the wit, the wisdom, the pathos, the eloquence
of the speaker disarmed them, took them captive, and, for the hour, at
least, made them delighted hearers.
This was Mr. Thompson’s last public appearance during his first year in
America. All his friends insisted that he must keep out of sight, and
as soon as practicable return to England. It was well known that his
life was in danger. That we had not attributed too great malignity to
our countrymen--even to the citizens of Boston--was soon made apparent
by their own acts.
It was announced in the _Liberator_, and so became publicly known, that
a regular meeting of the “Boston Female Antislavery Society” would be
held in the Hall, 46 Washington Street, on the 21st of October, 1835.
Without authority, it was reported by other papers that Mr. Thompson
was to address them; and it was more than intimated that then and there
would be the time and place to seize him. On the morning of that day
the following placard was posted in all parts of the city:--
“THOMPSON THE ABOLITIONIST.
“That infamous foreign scoundrel, Thompson, will hold forth
this afternoon at 46 Washington Street. The present is a fair
opportunity for the friends of the Union to _snake_ Thompson out!
It will be a contest between the Abolitionists and the friends of
the Union. A purse of _one hundred dollars_ has been raised by a
number of patriotic citizens, to reward the individual who shall
first lay violent hands on Thompson, so that he may be brought to
the Tar Kettle before dark. Friends of the Union, be vigilant!”
The sequel of the infamous proceedings thus inaugurated will be given
hereafter. Mr. Thompson was not there, and so the mob vented itself
upon another. Mr. Thompson was, and had been for several days, secreted
by his friends in Boston, and afterwards in Brookline, Lynn, Salem,
Phillips Beach, and elsewhere, until his enemies were baffled in their
pursuit of him, and arrangements were made to take him safely out of
the country.
On or about the 20th of November he was conveyed in a small boat,
rowed by two of his friends, from one of the Boston wharves to a
small English brig, that had fortunately been consigned to Henry G.
Chapman, one of our earliest and best antislavery brothers; and in
that vessel he was carried to St. Johns. From that port he sailed for
England on the 28th of the same month. Would that all my countrymen
could read the letter that he wrote to Mr. Garrison on the eve of his
departure. If words can truly express a man’s thoughts and feelings,
the words of that letter were written by a lover of our country, a true
philanthropist, a Christian hero.