Part 2 (2/2)
The South had gone one step too far. Abolition stood suddenly in a new light; ”More abolitionists had been made by this single piece of hostile legislation,” said Greeley, ”than Garrison and Phillips could have made in half a century.”
For thirty years Wendell Phillips was the crowned king of the lecture platform. It was the golden age of the lyceum. Men had more leisure than to-day. Our era of the drama, music, and travel pictures had not yet come. The winter nights were long, books few, magazines had not yet developed, and the people were hungry for instruction and eloquence.
Wendell Phillips achieved the astonis.h.i.+ng feat of speaking three hundred times a year. Eloquence is born of a great theme like the woes and wrongs of three million slaves. It is sometimes said that oratory is dying out in our Congress. But Congress is now a board of trade, discussing duties, protective tariffs on wool, cotton, and hides.
Beecher and Phillips had a great theme--liberty, the emanc.i.p.ation of millions of slaves. The modern orator in the Senate discusses the mathematics of woolen goods. It is hard to be eloquent over one salt barrel and two piles of cowhides. A sermon or a lecture on topics that fifty years ago would have crowded the greatest room and the street outside would not to-day draw a corporal's guard.
But in those heroic days, there was a great opportunity, and the opportunity was matched by the man. Phillips was handsome as an Apollo.
His voice was sweet as a harp. No man ever studied the art of public speech more scientifically. He played upon an audience as a skillful musician upon the banks of keys in an organ. A Southern slaveholder heard him in the Academy of Music, hating him, but paying him this tribute, ”That man is an infernal machine set to music.” His method was practically the memoriter method. A gentleman, who heard him give his ”Daniel O'Connell” four times in succession, found that the lecture was repeated without the slightest variation whatsoever, in ideas, sentences, inflection of the voice, or even gesture. Phillips prepared his lectures with the greatest care, and then repeated them hundreds of times. From the moment when he came upon the platform his presence filled the eye and satisfied it. His very ease and poise begat confidence and delight. He carved each sentence out of solid suns.h.i.+ne.
He stood quietly, made few gestures, adopted the conversational tone and took the audience into his confidence.
Some of his finest effects were produced by the injection of a parenthesis. Once in an evening sermon in Plymouth Church, when Beecher was urging the reelection of Lincoln and defending the Republican party, a disputatious individual called out from the congregation, ”What about Wendell Phillips?” To which Mr. Beecher made the instant answer, ”Wendell Phillips is not a Republican. Wendell Phillips is a radical and an independent. What this country needs is not a man of words but a man of deeds.” A few nights later Wendell Phillips was lecturing in the Brooklyn Academy of Music before the St. Patrick's Society, and made his reply in the form of a parenthesis, barbing his shaft with an exquisite inflection of his voice. ”Mr. Beecher said last Sunday night (_forgetting his own vocation_), 'Wendell Phillips is a man of words, instead of a man of deeds.'”
Not that the two men were ever unfriendly, for they were co-workers, standing side by side in the great movement. Once when the trustees of yonder Academy refused to allow Mr. Phillips to speak, Mr. Beecher made it a point of honour with his trustees to let Wendell Phillips speak in Plymouth Church, and ran the risk of the mob destroying the building.
The tumultuous scenes of that night, when bricks came through the windows, and the police were stationed in Cranberry and Orange Streets, were repeated all over the land. Again and again Wendell Phillips was mobbed. Once, at the very beginning of his career as an abolitionist, he spoke with an old Quaker. People waited to greet the old Quaker and asked him home for the night; but they pelted Wendell Phillips with rotten eggs as he went down the street in the dark. Afterwards Wendell Phillips said to the old Quaker, ”I said just what you did, and yet you were invited home to fried chicken and a bed, while I received raw eggs and stone.”
”I will tell thee the difference, Wendell. Thou said, 'If thou art a holder of slaves, thou wilt go to h.e.l.l.' I said, 'If thou dost not hold slaves, thou wilt not go to h.e.l.l.'”
But Wendell Phillips would not b.u.t.ter parsnips with fine words. Once in Boston four hundred men surrounded him, got possession of the hall, and jeered him for an hour and a half. Finally he leaned over the desk and shouted down to a reporter, ”Thank G.o.d there is no manacle for the printing-press.” Armed friends rescued him, guarded him home, and for a week, night and day, the Boston police guarded the house. Those were tumultuous days. But this great man braved and outlived the storm.
When the Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation was declared, William Lloyd Garrison said nothing remained now but to die. But Phillips opposed the dissolution of the Anti-Slavery Society, because he saw that when the physical fetters were broken, there still remained the fetters of the mind and heart that must be destroyed. So far from ending his labours, Phillips now redoubled his activities. He threw himself into the labour movement and helped organize the working cla.s.ses into a solid force against capitalism. He took up the cause of suffrage and the higher education of woman, gave himself to the temperance problem and prohibition. He lectured oftentimes two hundred nights a year in the great cities of the land, seeking always to manufacture manhood of a good quality. He became himself our finest example of the power and influence of the scholar in the Republic. And when the end came, he received from his fellow countrymen the admiration and the love that he had deserved. And the friends who knew him best were not surprised that the last words on his lips were the words of his friend James Russell Lowell, that summarized the ideal that Wendell Phillips had pursued for thirty years.
”New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our _Mayflower_, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.”
IV
CHARLES SUMNER: THE APPEAL TO EDUCATED MEN
In every country and time, the era of national peril has been the creative era for the intellect. The eloquence of Greece was at its best when Philip attacked Athens and Demosthenes defended its liberties.
Dante's poems were born of the collision between the despots who sought to enslave Florence, and the patriots who dreamed of democracy. Milton's songs were written during the English Revolution, when the Puritan, seeking to diffuse the good things of life, and the Cavalier, who wished to monopolize the earth's treasure, came into a deadly collision.
In accordance with that principle it seems natural to expect that the scholars of the Republic should do their best work during the era of agitation, when the national intellect was white hot, and public excitement burned by day and night. The anti-slavery epoch, therefore, was the Augustan Era of American literature, when the historians, poets and philosophers lent distinction to American literature. At that time Motley was writing his ”History of the Netherlands”; Prescott, his ”History of Mexico and Spain”; Whittier, his songs of slavery and freedom; Lowell was the satirist of the debate, and was writing his ”Biglow Papers,” and Emerson, the philosopher, was undermining the foundations and shaking the principles of slavery, even as Samson pulled down the temple of the olden time.
Emerson, the philosopher, did the thinking, and furnished the intellectual implements to the abolitionists. Beginning his career as a preacher, he resigned his position, moved to Concord, and dwelt apart from men, but ”as he mused, the fire burned.” Easily our first man of American letters, he is among the first essayists of all ages and climes. Essentially, however, he was a man of intellect, an American Plato, ”a Greek head screwed upon Yankee shoulders,” to use Holmes'
expression. His essay upon ”The American Scholar,” and his book on ”Nature,” brought him fame in England, and invitations to lecture before their colleges. Early in his career he won the friends.h.i.+p of Arnold of Rugby, of Matthew Arnold the son, of Arthur Hugh Clough, and of Thomas Carlyle. He returned from his honours in England to find himself the centre of the intellectual movement of New England. A number of younger men gathered around him, until Emerson's group at Concord became like unto Goethe's group at Weimar, and Coleridge's in London. During the late forties American educators, orators and statesmen began to quote the striking sentences from Emerson. Little by little it came about that the fighters went to Emerson as to an a.r.s.enal for their intellectual weapons. His first notable contribution to abolitionism was his ”Story of the West India Emanc.i.p.ation.” Then came his ”Essay on the Fugitive Slave Law,” his speech on the a.s.sault on Mr. Sumner, his writings on Kansas, and on John Brown. Few men have had such power to condense a statement of philosophy into a single epigram. Grant once said of his soldiers that while each man took aim for himself, Winchester slew all the thousands. Not otherwise, hundreds of orators and reformers went up and down the land attacking slavery, but while the voices were many, the argument was one, and Emerson for a time did the speaking for the abolitionists.
What Emerson stated in pure white light, Whittier made popular through his poems of Slavery and Freedom. By way of preeminence he was the poet of the abolition movement, and the Sir Galahad among our singers. Reared among the Friends, he had the simplicity of the Quaker, but the solidity and ma.s.siveness of the fighting Puritan. Strange as it may seem, he was at once the poet of peace, insisting upon the crime of war, and the poet of freedom, insisting upon the destruction of slavery. The fire and glow, the moral earnestness, the spiritual pa.s.sion of Whittier, are best ill.u.s.trated in his ”Lost Occasion,” and ”Ichabod.” At length the newspapers of the North took up his work. For some years before the war broke out, scarcely a month pa.s.sed by without a new poem of liberty by Whittier. Soon these poems that were published in the newspapers were recited in the schools by the children, quoted in the pulpits by the preachers, and used by the orators as feathers for their arrows. Once Wendell Phillips concluded an impa.s.sioned oration by reciting one of Whittier's stanzas, when a man in the audience shouted, ”That arrow went home!” to which Wendell Phillips answered, ”Yes, and I have a quiver full of arrows, every one of which was made by a man of peace,--John Greenleaf Whittier.” If Emerson's philosophy was like the diffused white daylight that makes clear the landscape for an army, Whittier's occasional poems like ”Ichabod” were thunderbolts that blasted forever all compromise and expediency.
Sometimes what the essayist fails to achieve ridicule easily accomplishes. James Russell Lowell was the satirist of the abolition movement. With biting scorn and irony he laughed men out of narrowness, ignorance, and selfishness. During the last epoch in his career Lowell achieved world-wide fame as a diplomat, and was universally admired as the all round man of letters. But now that he has gone, in retrospect, the historian perceives that the first era of Lowell's career was the influential era. He was the Milton of the anti-slavery epoch, as Lincoln was its Cromwell. His influence in England, in developing an anti-slavery sentiment there, was, if possible, more influential than in the home country. The great English editor, William Stead, tells us that he owes to Lowell's message the influences that made him an editor and a reformer. In the critical moments of his life he found in Lowell the inspiration and support that he found in no other books, save in Carlyle's ”Cromwell” and the Bible. ”In Russia, in Ireland, in Rome, and in prison, Lowell's poems have been my constant companions.” The poet used the story of Moses emanc.i.p.ating the Hebrew slaves as an ill.u.s.tration of the abolitionist as the unknown leader whom G.o.d would raise up to lead the three million black men out of Southern slavery.
”What G.o.d did for the Egyptian bondsmen, he believed G.o.d would do; because what G.o.d was, G.o.d is. He goes on:--
”From what a Bible can a man choose his text to-day! A Bible which needs no translation; and which no priestcraft can close from the laity,--the open volume of the world, upon which, with a pen of suns.h.i.+ne and destroying fire, the inspired Present is even now writing the annals of G.o.d. Methinks the editor who should understand his calling, and be equal thereto, would truly deserve that t.i.tle that Homer bestows upon princes.
He would be the Moses of our nineteenth century; and whereas the old Sinai, silent now, is but a common mountain, stared at by the elegant tourist, and crawled over by the hammer of the geologist, he must find his tables of the new law here among factories and cities in this wilderness of sin, called the progress of civilization, and be the captain of our exodus into the Canaan of a truer social order.”
Certain stanzas of Lowell, also, were quoted even more widely, and were ever upon the lips of college students. Many a soldier boy who went to battle from the forest and factory, the fields and the mines, scarcely knew that his inspiration--like Phillip's oratory--was embodied in Lowell's poem, ”The Present Crisis”:--
”Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side; Some great cause, G.o.d's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
”Careless seems the great Avenger; history's pages but record One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old systems and the Word; Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,-- Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth G.o.d within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.”
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