This call was signed by about two hundred and fifty persons
from different parts of the State, among whom was the Rev. E.
Beecher, then President of Illinois College. This gathering
brought together a large number. When they met for discussion,
the mobocrats came also among them, and there was a great
ferment. The mob finally out-voted and dissolved the conven-
tion. It was then resolved to form an anti-slavery society, and
to issue a declaration of sentiments, and an address to the people
of the State. Threats were expressed that, if Mr. Lovejoy
continued to print his paper, the mob would destroy his expected
press. In this state of excitement, Mr. Beecher, at the request of
the society, preached two sermons, setting forth the views and
course of conduct which were contemplated in the proposed
movement. They were subsequently set forth in a published
document, an extract from which will give the reader an idea of
what they were:
1. We shall endeavour to induce all our fellow-citizens to elevate their minds
above all selfish, pecuniary, political, and local interests; and, from a deep sense of
the presence of God, to regard solely the eternal and immutable principles of truth,
which no human legislature or popular sentiment can alter or remove.
2. We shall endeavour to present the question as one between this community
and God, a subject on which He deeply feels, and on which we owe great and im-
portant duties to him and to our fellow-citizens.
3. We shall endeavour, as far as possible, to allay the violence of party strife, to
remove all unholy excitement, and to produce mutual confidence and kindness, and
a deep interest in the welfare of all parts of our nation; and a strong desire to
preserve its union and promote its highest welfare.
Our entire reliance is upon truth and love, and the influences of the Holy Spirit.
We desire to compel no one to act against his judgment or conscience by an
oppressive power of public sentiment; but to arouse all men to candid thought and
impartial inquiry in the fear of God, we do desire.
And, to accomplish this end, we shall use the same means that are used to en-
lighten and elevate the public mind on all other great moral subjects--personal
influence, public address, the pulpit, and the press.
4. We shall endeavour to produce a new and radical investigation of the prin-
ciples of human rights, and of the relations of all just legislation to them,
deriving our principles from the nature of the human mind, the relations of man
to God, and the revealed will of the Creator.
5. We shall then endeavour to examine the slave-laws of our land in the light of
these principles, and to prove that they are essentially sinful, and that they are at
war alike with the will of God and all the interests of the master, the slave, and
the community at large.
6. We shall then endeavour to show in what manner communities where such
laws exist may relieve themselves at once, in perfect safety and peace, both of the
guilt and danger of the system.
7. And, until communities can be aroused to do their duties, we shall endeavour
to illustrate and enforce the duties of individual slaveholders in such communities.
To views presented in this spirit and manner one would think
there could have been no rational objection. The only difficulty
with them was, that, though calm and kind, they were felt to be
in earnest; and at once Leviathan was wide awake.
The next practical question was, Shall the third printing-press
be defended, or shall it also be destroyed.
There was a tremendous excitement, and a great popular
tumult. The timid, prudent, peace-loving majority, who are to
be found in every city, who care not what principles prevail, so
they promote their own interest, were wavering and pusillanimous,
and thus encouraged the mob. Every motive was urged to
induce Mr. Beecher and Mr. Lovejoy to forego the attempt to
re-establish the press. The former was told that a price had
been set on his head in Missouri--a fashionable mode of meeting
argument in the pro-slavery parts of this country. Mr. Lovejoy
had been so long threatened with assassination, day and night,
that the argument with him was something musty. Mr.
Beecher was also told that the interests of the college of which
he was president would be sacrificed; and that if he chose to risk
his own safety, he had no right to risk those interests. But Mr.
Beecher and Mr. Lovejoy both felt that the very foundation
principle of free institutions had at this time been seriously com-
promised all over the country, by yielding up the right of free
discussion at the clamours of the mob; that it was a precedent
of very wide and very dangerous application.
In a public meeting, Mr. Beecher addressed the citizens on
the right of maintaining free inquiry, and of supporting every
man in the right of publishing and speaking his conscientious
opinions. He read to them some of those eloquent passages in
which Dr. Channing had maintained the same rights in very
similar circumstances in Boston. He read to them extracts
from foreign papers, which showed how the American character
suffered in foreign lands from the prevalence in America of
Lynch law and mob violence. He defended the right of Mr.
Lovejoy to print and publish his conscientious opinions; and,
finally, he read from some Southern journals extracts in which they
had strongly condemned the course of the mob, and vindicated
Mr. Lovejoy's right to express his opinions. He then proposed
to them that they should pass resolutions to the following effect:
That the free communication of opinion is one of the invaluable rights of man;
and that every citizen may freely speak, write, or print, on any subject; being re-
sponsible for the abuse of the liberty.
That maintenance of these principles should be independent of all regard to
persons and sentiments.
That they should be especially maintained with regard to unpopular sentiments,
since no others need the protection of law.
That on these grounds alone, and without regard to political and moral
differences, we agree to protect the press and property of the editor of the Alton
Observer, and support him in his right to publish whatever he pleases, holding
him responsible only to the laws of the land.
These resolutions, so proposed, were to be taken into conside-
ration at a final meeting of the citizens, which was to be held the
next day.
That meeting was held. Their first step was to deprive Mr.
Beecher, and all who were not citizens of that county, of the
right of debating on the report to be presented. The committee
then reported that they deeply regretted the excited state of
feeling; that they cherished strong confidence that the citizens
would refrain from undue excitement; that the exigencies of the
time required a course of moderation and compromise; and that,
while there was no disposition to prevent free discussion in
general, they deemed it indisp
ensable to the public tranquillity
that Mr. Lovejoy should not publish a paper in that city; not
wishing to reflect in the slightest degree upon Mr. Lovejoy's
character and motives. All that the meeting waited for now
was, to hear whether Mr. Lovejoy would comply with their re-
commendation.
One of the committee arose, and expressed his sympathy for
Mr. Lovejoy, characterising him as an unfortunate individual,
hoping that they would all consider that he had a wife and
family to support, and trusting that they would disgrace him as
little as possible; but that he and all his party would see the
necessity of making a compromise, and departing from Alton.
What followed is related in the words of Mr. Beecher, who was
present at the meeting:
As Brother Lovejoy rose to reply to the speech above mentioned, I watched
his countenance with deep interest, not to say anxiety. I saw no tokens of dis-
turbance. With a tranquil, self-possessed air, he went up to the bar within
which the chairman sat, and in a tone of deep, tender, and subdued feeling, spoke
as follows:
“I feel, Mr. Chairman, that this is the most solemn moment of my life. I
feel, I trust, in some measure the responsibilities which at this hour I sustain to
these, my fellow-citizens, to the Church of which I am a minister, to my country,
and to God. And let me beg of you, before I proceed further, to construe nothing
I shall say as being disrespectful to this assembly. I have no such feeling; far
from it. And if I do not act or speak according to their wishes at all times, it is
because I cannot conscientiously do it.
“It is proper I should state the whole matter, as I understand it, before this
audience. I do not stand here to argue the question, as presented by the report of
the committee. My only wonder is that the honourable gentleman, the chairman
of that committee, for whose character I entertain great respect, though I have
not the pleasure of his personal acquaintance--my only wonder is how that
gentleman could have brought himself to submit such a report.
“Mr. Chairman, I do not admit that it is the business of this assembly to decide
whether I shall or shall not publish a newspaper in this city. The gentlemen have,
as the lawyers say, made a wrong issue. I have the right to do it. I know that
I have the right freely to speak and publish my sentiments, subject only to the
laws of the land for the abuse of that right. This right was given me by my
Maker; and is solemnly guaranteed to me by the constitution of these United
States, and of this State. What I wish to know of you is, whether you will
protect me in the exercise of this right; or whether, as heretofore, I am to be
subjected to personal indignity and outrage. These resolutions, and the measures
proposed by them, are spoken of as a compromise--a compromise between two
parties. Mr. Chairman, this is not so. There is but one party here. It is simply
a question whether the law shall be enforced, or whether the mob shall be allowed,
as they now do, to continue to trample it under their feet, by violating with im-
punity the rights of an innocent individual.
“Mr. Chairman, what have I to compromise? If freely to forgive those who
have so greatly injured me, if to pray for their temporal and eternal happiness, if
still to wish for the prosperity of your city and State, notwithstanding all the in-
dignities I have suffered in it--if this be the compromise intended, then do I willingly
make it. My rights have been shamefully, wickedly outraged; this I know, and
feel, and can never forget. But I can and do freely forgive those who have done it.
But if by a compromise is meant that I should cease from doing that which
duty requires of me, I cannot make it. And the reason is, that I fear God more
than I fear man. Think not that I would lightly go contrary to public sentiment
around me. The good opinion of my fellow-men is dear to me, and I would
sacrifice anything but principle to obtain their good wishes; but when they ask
me to surrender this, they ask for more than I can, than I dare give. Reference is
made to the fact that I offered a few days since to give up the editorship of the
Observer into other hands. This is true; I did so because it was thought or said
by some that perhaps the paper would be better patronised in other hands. They
declined accepting my offer, however, and since then we have heard from the
friends and supporters of the paper in all parts of the State. There was but one
sentiment among them, and this was, that the paper could be sustained in no other
hands than mine. It is also a very different question, whether I shall voluntarily,
or at the request of friends, yield up my post, or whether I shall forsake it at the
demand of a mob. The former I am at all times ready to do, when circumstances
occur to require it, as I will never put my personal wishes or interests in competi-
tion with the cause of that Master whose minister I am. But the latter, be
assured, I never will do. God, in his providence, so say all my brethren, and so
and, Mr. Chairman, I am determined to do it. A voice comes to me from Maine,
from Massachusetts, from Connecticut, from New York, from Pennsylvania--yea,
from Kentucky, from Mississippi, from Missouri--calling upon me, in the name of
all that is dear in heaven or earth, to stand fast; and by the help of God, I will
stand. I know I am but one, and you are many. My strength would avail
but little against you all. You can crush me, if you will; but I shall die at my
post, for I cannot and will not forsake it.
“Why should I flee from Alton? Is not this a free State? When assailed by
a mob at St. Louis, I came hither, as to the home of freedom and of the laws.
The mob has pursued me here, and why should I retreat again? Where can I be
safe, if not here? Have not I a right to claim the protection of the laws? What
more can I have in any other place? Sir, the very act of retreating will em-
bolden the mob to follow me wherever I go. No, sir, there is no way to escape the
mob but to abandon the path of duty, and that, God helping me, I will never do.
“It has been said here that my hand is against every man, and every man's
hand against me. The last part of the declaration is too painfully true. I do
indeed find almost every hand lifted against me; but against whom, in this place,
has my hand been raised? I appeal to every individual present; whom of you
have I injured? Whose character have I traduced? Whose family have I
molested? Whose business have I meddled with? If any, let him rise here and
testify against me. No one answers.
“And do not your resolutions say that you find nothing against my private or
personal character? And does any one believe that, if there was anything to be found,
it would not be found and brought forth? If in anything I have offended against
the law, I am not so popular in this community as that it would be difficult to
convict me. You have courts, and judges, and juries; they find nothing against
me. And now you come together for the purpose of driving
out a confessedly
innocent man, for no cause but that he dares to think and speak as his conscience
and his God dictate. Will conduct like this stand the scrutiny of your country,
of posterity, above all, of the judgment-day? For remember, the Judge of that
day is no respecter of persons. Pause, I beseech you, and reflect! the present
excitement will soon be over; the voice of conscience will at last be heard. And
in some season of honest thought, even in this world, as you review the scenes of
this hour, you will be compelled to say, `He was right; he was right!'
“But you have been exhorted to be lenient and compassionate, and in driving me
away to affix no unnecessary disgrace upon me. Sir, I reject all such compassion.
You cannot disgrace me. Scandal, and falsehood, and calumny have already done
their worst. My shoulders have borne the burden till it sits easy upon them.
You may hang me up as the mob hung up the individuals of Vicksburg! You
may burn me at the stake, as they did McIntosh at St. Louis, or you may tar and
feather me, or throw me into the Mississippi, as you have often threatened to do;
but you cannot disgrace me. I, and I alone, can disgrace myself; and the deepest
of all disgrace would be, at a time like this, to deny my Master by forsaking his
cause. He died for me, and I were most unworthy to bear his name should I
refuse, if need be, to die for him!
“Again, you have been told that I have a family, who are dependent on me,
and this has been given as a reason why I should be driven off as gently as pos-
sible. It is true, Mr. Chairman, I am a husband and a father; and this it is that
adds the bitterest ingredient to the cup of sorrow I am called to drink. I am made
to feel the wisdom of the Apostle's advice, `It is better not to marry.' I know
sir, that in this contest I stake not my life only, but that of others also. I do not
expect my wife will ever recover the shock received at the awful scenes through
which she was called to pass at St. Charles. And how was it the other night on
my return to my house? I found her driven to the garret, through fear of the
mob, who were prowling round my house; and scarcely had I entered the house
ere my windows were broken in by the brickbats of the mob, and she so alarmed