one to thank but himself for his persecutions, and that, if The Observer were reëstablished, they would do nothing to protect it. During the following month, Mr. Lovejoy at tended the meeting of the Presbyterian Synod of Illinois, at Spring field, as also meetings of an antiSlavery Convention in Upper Alton, and one or two meetings held at the Court House in Alton, to discuss and determine the propriety of allowing him to continue the publication of The Observer. At the last of these meetings (November 3d), having obtained the floor, he said: "Mr. Chairman: It is not true, as has been charged upon me, that I hold in contempt the feelings and sentiments of this community, in reference to the question which is now agitating it. I respect and appreciate the feelings of my fellow-citizens; and it is one of the most painful and unpleasant duties of my life, that I am called upon to act in opposition to them. If you suppose, Sir, that I have published sentiments contrary to those generally held in this community, because I delighted in differing from them, you have entirely misapprehended me. But, Sir, while I value the good opinion of my fellow-citizens as highly as any one, I may be permitted to say that I am governed by higher considerations than either the favor or the fear of man. I am impelled to the course I have taken, because I fear God. As I shall answer it to my God in the great day, I dare not abandon my sentiments, nor cease in all proper ways to propagate them. and you have your attorney (looking at the Attorney-General), and I have no doubt you can convict me. But if I have been guilty of no violation of law, why am I hunted up and down continually like a partridge upon the tar-barrel? Why am I waylaid every the mountains? Why am I threatened with day, and from night to night? and why is my life in jeopardy every hour? "You have, Sir, made up, as the lawyers say, a false issue; there are not two parties between whom there can be a compromise. able rights; and the question to be decided plant myself, Sir, down on my unquestionis, whether I shall be protected in the exercise and enjoyment of those rights-that is shall be protected-whether I shall be sufthe question, Sir;-whether my property fered to go home to my family at night without being assailed, and threatened with tar and feathers, and assassination; whether my afflicted wife, whose life has been in jeopardy from continued aların and excitement, shall night after night be driven from a sick-bed bats and violence of the mob; that, Sir, is into the garret to save her life from the brickthe question." Here, much affected and Many, not excepting even his enemies, wept overcome by his feelings, he burst into tears. -several sobbed aloud, and the sympathies of the whole meeting were deeply excited. He continued: "Forgive me, Sir, that I have thus betrayed my weakness. It was the alluNot, Sir, I assure you, from any fears on my sion to my family that overcame my feelings. part. I have no personal fears. Not that I feel able to contest the matter with the whole community; I know perfectly well that I am not. I know, Sir, that you can tar and feather me, hang me up, or put me into But what then? Where shall I go? I have the Mississippi, without the least difficulty. been made to feel that, if I am not safe at Alvisited St. Charles to bring home my family, ton, I shall not be safe anywhere. I recently and was torn from their frantic embrace by a mob. I have been beset night and day at Alton. And now, if I leave here and go elsewhere, violence may overtake me in my retreat, and I have no more claim upon the pro "I, Mr. Chairman, have not desired nor asked any compromise. I have asked for nothing but to be protected in my rights as a citizen-rights which God has given me, and which are guaranteed to me by the Con-tection of another community than I have upstitution of my country. Have I, Sir, been guilty of any infraction of the laws? Whose good name have I injured? When and where have I published anything injurious to the reputation of Alton? Have I not, on the other hand, labored, in common with the rest of my fellow-citizens, to promote the reputation and interests of this city? What, Sir, I ask, has been my offense? Put your finger upon it-define it—and I stand ready to answer for it. If I have committed any crime, you can easily convict me. You have public sentiment in your favor. You have your juries, on this; and I have concluded, after consultation with my friends, and earnestly seeking counsel of God, to remain at Alton, and here to insist on protection in the exercise of my rights. If the civil authorities refuse to protect me, I must look to God; and, if I die, I have determined to make my grave in Alton." It was known in Alton that a new press was now on the way to Mr. Lovejoy, and might arrive at any time. Great excitement pervaded ATTACK ON LOVEJOY'S LAST PRESS. the community. Friends were on the alert to protect it on its arrival, and enemies to insure its destruction. It finally reached St. Louis on the night of the 5th, and an arrangement was made to have it landed at Alton at three o'clock on the morning of the 7th. Meantime, Mr. Lovejoy and a friend went to the Mayor and notified him of its expected arrival, and of the threats that it should be destroyed, requesting the appointment of special constables to protect it. A meeting of the City Council was held, and some discussion had; but the subject was laid on the table and nothing done. On that evening (November 6), between forty and fifty citizens met in the warehouse of Godfrey, Gilman & Co., where the press was to be stored, to organize a volunteer company to aid in the defense of law and order. At ten o'clock, several left; but about thirty remained in the building, with one city constable to command them. They were armed. Mr. Lovejoy was not among them. His dwelling had been attacked but a few nights before, when he and a sister narrowly escaped a brick-bat, thrown with sufficient force to have done mortal injury. Expecting an assault, his wife in very delicate health, and in a state of nervous alarm from her recent experience at St. Charles, Mr. Lovejoy had arranged with a brother that they should watch alternate nights at home and at the store. At three in the morning, a steamboat brought the expected press. A sentinel of the mob was watching for it, and immediately gave the alarm, when horns were blown throughout the city. The Mayor had already been 139 called, and was in the building. He requested those who guarded there, to remain and keep quiet till he called for them, saying that he would attend to the storing of the press, which he did. A few stones were thrown, but no serious damage effected, and the press was safely deposited in the garret of a strong stone warehouse, where it was thought to be safe. Throughout the following day, general quiet prevailed, though it was well known that "the Abolition press" had been received, and was stored in Godfrey & Gilman's warehouse. The Mayor made inquiries at several points, and was satisfied that no further violence was intended. At evening, the volunteer defenders of Mr. Lovejoy's rights dropped in at the warehouse, and remained until nine o'clock; when, there being no signs of trouble, all but twelve went away. Mr. Lovejoy remained, with one or two others who were called Abolitionists. The residue were simply citizens, opposed to burglary and robbery, and willing to risk their lives in defense of the rights of property and the freedom of the press. About ten o'clock, some thirty persons, as if by preconcert, suddenly emerged from a neighboring grogshop-a few of them with arms, but the majority with only stones in their hands-formed a line at the south end of the store, next the river, knocked and hailed. Mr. Gilman, from the garret door, asked what they wanted. Their leader replied: "The press." Mr. Gilman assured them that it would not be given up; adding, "We have no ill feelings toward any of you, and should much regret to do you any injury; but we are authorized' by the Mayor to defend our property, and shall do so with our lives." The leader replied that they were resolved to have the press at any sacrifice, and presented a pistol, whereupon Mr. G. retired into the building. The mob then passed around to the opposite end of the warehouse, and commenced throwing stones, which soon demolished several of the windows. No resistance was offered; the inmates having agreed not to fire unless their lives were in danger. The warehouse being of stone, and solidly built, no further impression was made on it by this assault. Finding their missiles ineffectual, the mob fired two or three guns into the building, by which no one was hit. The fire was then returned, and several of the rioters wounded, one of them mortally. Hereupon, the mob recoiled, carrying off their wounded. But they soon returned with ladders, and other preparations for firing the roof of the warehouse, cursing and shouting, "Burn them out! burn them out!" They kept carefully on the side of the building where there were no windows, so that they could not be injured or repelled by its defenders. The Mayor and a justice were now deputed by the mob to bear a message to the inmates of the building, proposing that, on condition the press were given up, no one should be further molested, and no more property destroyed. The proposition was quietly declined. Mr. Gilman, in turn, requested the Mayor to call on certain citizens to save his store from the threatened destruction by fire. The Mayor replied that the mob was so strong and so determined that he could do nothing-that he had already tried to command and persuade them to desist, but without success. He was asked if those in the building should defend their property with arms; to which he replied, as he had repeatedly done before, that they had a perfect right to do so, and that the law justified them in that course. He then left the building, and reported the result of his mission, which was received with yells of "Fire the building!" "Fire the building!" "Burn 'em out!" "Burn 'em out!" "Shoot every d-d Abolitionist as he leaves!" It was now near midnight, and the bells had been rung, collecting a large concourse, who stood passive spectators of what followed. The mob now raised their ladders against the building, mounted to the roof, and kindled a fire there, which burned rather slowly. Five of the defenders hereupon volunteered to sally out and drive them away. They left by the south door, passed around the corner to the east side of the building, and fired upon the man who guarded the foot of the ladder, drove him off, and dispersed his immediate comrades, returning to the store to reload. Mr. Lovejoy and two others stepped again to the door, and stood looking around just without the building-Mr. L. in advance of the others. Several of the rioters were concealed from their view behind a pile of lumber a few rods in their front. One of these had a twobarreled gun, which he fired. Mr. Lovejoy received five balls, three of them in his breast, probably each mortal. He turned quickly, ran into the store, and up a flight of stairs into the counting-room, where LOVEJOY'S MURDERERS ACQUITTED. he fell, exclaiming, "Oh God, I am shot! I am shot!" and almost instantly expired. One of his friends received at the same time a ball in his leg, of which he recovered. Those remaining alive in the building now held a consultation, and concluded to surrender. One of their number went up to the scuttle and apprised the mob that Mr. Lovejoy was dead, and that the press would now be given up. A yell of exultation was sent up by the rioters, and the proposed surrender declined. Another of the inmates now resolved to go out and make some terms, if possible; but he had hardly opened the door when he was fired upon and severely wounded. A citizen now came to the door at the opposite end, and begged those within to leave the building, as it was on fire, and their remaining would be utterly useless. All but two or three hereupon laid down their arms, left the building, and fled, being fired upon by the mob as they escaped. The rioters then rushed into the building, threw the press out of the window, broke it up, and pitched the pieces into the river. They destroyed no other property, save a few guns. One of them-a doctor-offered to extract the ball from the wounded man's leg; but he declined their assistance. At two o'clock, they had dispersed, and all was again quiet. Mr. Lovejoy's remains were borne away next morning to his dwelling, amid the jeers and scoffs of his murderers. He was buried the day following-Thursday, November 9the day which, had he been living, would have completed his thirtyfifth year. His wife, who, on account of the critical state of her 141 health, had been sent away from Alton, was unable to attend his funeral. Of their two children, one was born after his death. The defenders of the warehouse, as well as the recognized leaders of their assailants, were respectively indicted for riot, and tried, or rather, Mr. Gilman alone of the defenders was tried; and upon his acquittal the City Attorney entered a nolle prosequi as to the other defendants. The leading rioters were next placed on trial, and were likewise acquitted. The testimony of the Mayor, John M. Krum, was much relied on by the defenders of the press, who expected to prove by it that they acted throughout under his authority, as ministers of the law and official guardians of the rights of property. His testimony, however, did not sustain this assumption. The Mayor fully admitted that he had repeatedly and freely consulted with them as to their course in the premises, and had advised them that they would be entirely justified in defending their rights by arms, if necessary. But, he said, he had given this advice as a lawyer, a neighbor, and citizen; not as Mayor. The details of this tragedy are important, as they serve to silence two cavils, which have been most familiar in the mouths of the champions of Slavery. "If you want to oppose Slavery, why don't you go where it is?" has been triumphantly asked many thousands of times. Mr. Lovejoy did exactly this as Lundy, and Garrison, and many others had done before him-and only left a Slave for a Free State when such removal was imperatively demanded. "Why don't you keep clear of the fanatical Abolitionists, and discuss the question in moderation and good temper?" Mr. Lovejoy did exactly this, also. He was not the advocate of Garrisonism; on the contrary, he condemned it. He was not the champion of any political party, nor of any peculiar line of anti-Slavery action. He did not publish an Abolition journal. His was simply and purely a religious newspaper, in which Slavery was from time to time discussed, and its evils exposed, like those of intemperance, or any other immorality. But this he was not permitted to do, whether in a Slave or in a Free State. He was proscribed, hunted, persecuted, assaulted, plundered, and finally killed-not because he persisted in opposing Slavery in the wrong place, or in a peculiarly objectionable manner, but because he would not desist from opposing it at all.15 The District of Columbia was originally composed of a hundred square miles of territory, lying on both sides of the river Potomac, at the head of navigation on that stream. The forty square miles south of that river, forming the county and including the city of Alexandria, were ceded to the Union in 1789 by Virginia, and retroceded to that State in 1846-the movement for retrocession having, doubtless, some covert reference to the probability or prospect of disunion. The sixty square miles lying north of the Potomac-forming the county of 15 WENDELL PHILLIPS, then a young Whig lawyer, first conspicuously identified himself with the anti-Slavery movement, at a meeting held in Boston (December 8, 1837), at the old Washington, and including the cities of Washington and Georgetown were ceded by Maryland in 1788, and now compose the entire District; so that Washington is commanded, within easy shelling distance, by hights which, in case the separation of Virginia from the Union were conceded, would be part and parcel of a foreign country. The Federal Constitution (Art. I., Section 8) provides that, "The Congress shall have power to exercise exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten miles square) as may, by cession of particular States, and the acceptance of Congress, become the seat of the Government of the United States." The cession by Maryland was without qualification. But Congress proceeded, soon after, to pass an act, apparently without much consideration or forecast, whereby the then existing laws of Maryland and Virginia were to continue in full force and effect over those portions of the Federal District ceded by them respectively, until Congress should otherwise enact; and, as those States were undoubtedly Slave States, their slave laws continued operative herein, with little or no modification or improvement, down to the passage of the Compromise measures of 1850. Very naturally, the creation out of nothing of such a city as Washington, with its adoption as the capital of the Republic, combined with its favorable location, served to render it an extensive mart for the prosecution of the domestic Slave-Trade. Court House-Faneuil Hall having been asked for, and refused, to a petition headed by Rev. William E. Channing-to consider the circumstances attending the death of Mr. Lovejoy. |