Nature has treated Mr. Phillips as a favorite. His expressive countenance paints and reflects every emotion of his soul. His gestures, like his delivery, are wonderfully graceful. There is a fascination in the soft gaze of his eyes, which none can but admire. Being a close student, and endowed by Nature with a retentive memory, he supplies himself with the most complicated dates and historical events. Nothing can surpass the variety of his matter. He extracts from a subject all that it contains, and does it as none but Wendell Phillips can. His voice is beautifully musical, and it is calculated to attract wherever it is heard. He is a man of calm intrepidity, of a patriotic and warm heart, with temper the most gentle, a rectitude of principle entirely natural, a freedom from ambition, and a modesty quite singular.
His speeches upon every subject upon which he has spoken, will compare favorably with anything ever uttered by Pitt or Sheridan in their palmiest days. No American is so eagerly reported in Europe, in what he says on the platform, as Mr. Phillips. His appeal for Cretan independence was circulated in the language of Demosthenes and Isocrates through Greece and its islands, and reached the ears of the mountaineers of Crete, for whom he spoke.
But it is in the Anti-slavery cause that we love to write of him. As a speaker on that platform, he has never had an equal; and the good he has rendered the slave by his eloquent speeches can never be estimated.
Considering his position in society, his talents and prospects when in youth he entered the ranks of the proscribed and hated Abolitionists, we feel that Mr. Phillips has sacrificed more upon the altar of freedom than any other living man.
On the opposite side of the table from Mr. Phillips, sits Edmund Quincy, the ripe scholar and highly-cultivated gentleman and interesting writer. If he is not so eloquent a speaker as his friend Phillips, he is none the less staunch in his adherence to principle. He is one of the best presiding officers that New England can produce.
A little farther down on the same side is Francis Jackson. His calm Roman face, large features, well-developed head, and robust-looking frame tells you at once that he is a man of courage. He was one of the first to take his stand by the side of Mr. Garrison; and when the mob in 1835 broke up the anti-slavery meeting held by the ladies, Mr. Jackson, with a moral courage scarcely ever equalled, came forward and offered his private dwelling to them to hold their meeting in.
Still farther down on the same side sits Maria Weston Chapman, the well-read and accomplished lady, the head and heart of the Anti-slavery Bazaar. Many an influential woman has been induced to take part in the Bazaar and Subscription Festival, solely on account of the earnest eloquence and polished magnetism of Mrs. Chapman. By her side sits her gifted little sister, Anne Warren Weston. On the opposite side of the table is Samuel May, Jr., the able and efficient general agent of the Society. To his perseverance, industry, gentlemanly manners, and good sense, the Society owes much of its success. In the earlier days of the movement, Mr. May left the pulpit and a lucrative salary, that he might devote his time to the cause in which his heart had long been engaged. Mr. May is an earnest speaker, and never takes the platform unless he has something to say. He is simple, plain, and one of the best of friends. It was the good fortune of the writer to be associated with him for a number of years; and he never looks back to those days but with the best feeling and most profound respect for the moral character and Christian worth of Samuel May, Jr.
Not far from Mr. May sat Charles F. Hovey, the princely Summer Street merchant, the plain, honest, outspoken man whose heart felt the wrongs of the oppressed as keenly as if he himself had been one of the race. Gathered since to his heavenly rest, he bequeathed a large sum of money to carry on the battle for the negro’s freedom. Farther down the table was Eliza Lee Follen, whose poems in favor of liberty have so often been sung in our anti-slavery conventions. Sydney Howard Gay, the polished writer, the editor of the Society’s organ, occupied a seat next to Mrs. Follen. With small frame, finely-cut features, and pleasant voice, he is ever listened to with marked attention. Mr. Gay is a gentleman in every sense of the term.
Near the end of the table is William I. Bowditch, the able scholar, the ripe lawyer, the devoted friend of freedom. Lastly, there is Charles K. Whipple, the “C. K. W.,” of “The Liberator,” and the “North,” of the “Anti-slavery Standard.” A stronger executive board for a great moral object probably never existed. They were men and women in whom the public had the utmost confidence, individually, for rectitude of character.
There were also present on this occasion five persons who were not members of the board, but whose long and arduous labors entitled them to a seat around the table. These were Samuel J. May, Lydia Maria Child, James and Lucretia Mott, and Thomas Garrett; and of these we shall now make mention.