CHAPTER V
PROTESTER AND PATRIOT
The year 1837 is the culmination of the first period of abolitionism in Illinois. Until then, abolitionism was a hated eastern conception. Despite opposition, and somewhat feeding on it, it slowly filtered its way through an almost impervious public sentiment. A small band encountered with heroism, the continuous martyrdom that waits on the protagonist. Few in numbers, zealous in their gospel, superbly confident in the rectitude of their counsel they aroused the spirit of retaliation. Their excessive zeal transcended all other obligations, rendering them indifferent, if not hostile, to the constitutional compact. They stimulated and encouraged to life a corresponding bitterness among the multitude.
It was in those days a mortal offence to call a man an abolitionist. The popular mind scarcely distinguished between men who stole horses and men who freed negroes. They regarded anti-slavery men as robbers, disturbers of the peace, the instigators of arson, and enemies to the Union which gave us as a people liberty and strength. "In testimony of these sentiments, Illinois enacted a 'black code' of most preposterous and cruel severity,—a code that would have been a disgrace to a slave state, and was simply an infamy in a free one. It borrowed the provisions of the most revolting laws known among men, for exiling, selling, beating, bedeviling, and torturing negroes, whether bond or free."[122]
That the opposition of slavery was bothering the people of Sangamon County, is evident from the following resolution adopted at Springfield in 1837 at a public meeting, over which Judge Brown presided:
"Resolved that in the opinion of this meeting the doctrine of the immediate emancipation of the slaves of this country (although promulgated by those who profess to be Christians) is at variance with Christianity, and its tendency is to breed contention, broil and mobs; and the leaders of those calling themselves Abolitionists are designing ambitious men and dangerous members of society and should be shunned by all good citizens."[123]
Illinois would scarcely brook unchained utterance on the darkest question of all the ages,—the "right of one man to eat the bread which another earned." A kind of stifling ostracism awaited the lowly or the towering disciple who spoke in the language of Jefferson, of the fear awakening problem. Every generation has its remorseless method of crucifying its heroes of speech and deed. Business and political interests, social influences and religious affiliations concerted in the crushing of abolitionism. Success might have crowned their effort had prudence been their companion, but they mobbed, maltreated, and even murdered the champions of the new movement. Had madness confounded them, they could not have acted more unwisely. This, more than all the agitation of abolition leaders, quickened the moral vitality of the people. There were many white men who cared little for the slave, but much for the gospel of free speech as old as the Anglo-Saxon race. This fatal policy of brute force finally dictated the doom of a power that long mocked all opposition, that dreamed of an imperial government grander than the vision which "Stout Cortez" beheld when he first stared at the Pacific, "silent on a peak in Darien."
The motives that prompted public sentiment in Illinois to throttle discussion on the slave question, almost baffle understanding. The Lovejoys attacked no vested interest in the State, menaced no substantial rights of person or property. While the Southern States busied themselves with the doctrine that it was the privilege of each State to demean itself as it wished, subject only to the Constitution, as it interpreted that instrument, there was small occasion for a Northern commonwealth to curb its own citizens, to sacrifice ancient and cherished rights for the pleasure of an exacting foreign institution.
The anti-slavery forces with keenness of vision saw the weak point of the enemy's attack, so they ranged themselves round the banner, proclaiming the doctrine of free speech and the sacredness of an unshackled press. Nothing more inherently reveals the weakness of the advocates of slavery, than their morbid fear of free and frank inquiry into its policy and wisdom. In the face of an institution demanding mob power, and the sacrifice of priceless principles, the Abolitionists performed a wholesome public service in contending that then more than ever liberty of discussion should be protected, maintained and hallowed.
Suddenly, in the same year up starts Lincoln the statesman, Lincoln the politician sinks. He possessed the rare gift of concealing his most cherished opinions until the time was ripe for expression. He was aware of the folly of mouthing truths when no good could come therefrom. In this, he was a politician. Still when the occasion called for an act of fortitude, when the solemnity of the hour summoned heroic utterance, as from "heights afar," the sound of his voice was heard and the thrill of his words awakened. In this, he was a supreme statesman.