The Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  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

  I think, has devolved upon me the responsibility of maintaining my ground here;

  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