Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  that it was impossible for her to sleep or rest that night. I am hunted as a

  partridge upon the mountains; I am pursued as a felon through your streets; and

  to the guardian power of the law I look in vain for that protection against violence

  which even the vilest criminal may claim.

  “Yet think not that I am unhappy. Think not that I regret the choice that

  I have made. While all around me is violence and tumult, all is peace within.

  An approving conscience and the rewarding smile of God is a full recompense

  for all that I forego and all that I endure. Yes, sir, I enjoy a peace which nothing

  can destroy. I sleep sweetly and undisturbed, except when awaked by the brick-

  bats of the mob.

  “No, sir, I am not unhappy. I have counted the cost and stand prepared freely

  to offer up my all in the service of God. Yes, sir, I am fully aware of all the

  sacrifices I make in here pledging myself to continue this contest to the last.

  (Forgive these tears--I had not intended to shed them, and they flow not for

  myself, but others.) But I am commanded to forsake father, and mother, and wife,

  and children for Jesus' sake; and as his professed disciple I stand prepared to do

  it. The time for fulfilling this pledge in my case, it seems to me, has come. Sir,

  I dare not flee away from Alton. Should I attempt it, I should feel that the

  angel of the Lord, with his flaming sword, was pursuing me wherever I went. It

  is because I fear God that I am not afraid of all who oppose me in this city. No,

  sir, the contest has commenced here, and here it must be finished. Before God and

  and you all, I here pledge myself to continue it, if need be, till death. If I fall, my

  In person Lovejoy was well formed, in voice and manners

  refined; and the pathos of this last appeal, uttered in entire sim-

  plicity, melted everyone present, and produced a deep silence.

  It was one of those moments when the feelings of an audience

  tremble in the balance, and a grain may incline them to either

  side. A proposition to support him might have carried, had it

  been made at that moment. The charm was broken by another

  minister of the gospel, who rose and delivered a homily on the

  necessity of compromise, recommending to Mr. Lovejoy especial

  attention to the example of Paul, who was let down in a basket

  from a window in Damascus; as if Alton had been a heathen

  city under a despotic government! The charm once broken,

  the meeting became tumultuous and excited, and all manner of

  denunciations were rained down upon abolitionists. The meet-

  ing passed the resolutions reported by the committee, and refused

  to resolve to aid in sustaining the law against illegal violence;

  and the mob perfectly understood that, do what they might, they

  should have no disturbance. It being now understood that Mr.

  Lovejoy would not retreat, it was supposed that the crisis of the

  matter would develope itself when his printing-press came on

  shore.

  During the following three days there seemed to be something

  of a reaction. One of the most influential of the mob-leaders

  was heard to say that it was of no use to go on destroying

  presses, as there was money enough on East to bring new ones,

  and that they might as well let the fanatics alone.

  This somewhat encouraged the irresolute city authorities; and

  the friends of the press thought if they could get it once landed,

  and safe into the store of Messrs. Godfrey and Gilman, that the

  crisis would be safely passed. They therefore sent an express to

  the captain to delay the landing of the boat till three o'clock in

  the morning, and the leaders of the mob, after watching till they

  were tired, went home; the press was safely landed and deposited,

  and all supposed that the trouble was safely passed. Under this

  impression Mr. Beecher left Alton, and returned home.

  We will give a few extracts from Mr. Beecher's narrative,

  which describe his last interview with Mr. Lovejoy on that night,

  after they had landed and secured the press:--

  Shortly after the hour fixed on for the landing of the boat, Mr. Lovejoy arose,

  and called me to go with him to see what was the result. The moon had set and

  it was still dark, but day was near; and here and there a light was glimmering

  from the window of some sick-room, or of some early riser. The streets were

  empty and silent, and the sound of our feet echoed from the walls as we passed

  along. Little did he dream, at that hour of the contest which the next night

  would witness, that these same streets would echo with the shouts of an infuriate

  mob, and be stained with his own heart's blood.

  We found the boat there, and the press in the warehouse; aided in raising it to

  the third storey. We were all rejoiced that no conflict had ensued, and that the

  press was safe; and all felt that the crisis was over. We were sure that the store

  could not be carried by storm by so few men as had ever yet acted in a mob; and

  though the majority of the citizens would not aid to defend the press, we had no

  fear that they would aid in an attack. So deep was this feeling that it was thought

  that a small number was sufficient to guard the press afterward; and it was

  agreed that the company should be divided into sections of six, and take turns on

  successive nights. As they had been up all night, Mr. Lovejoy and myself offered

  to take charge of the press till morning; and they retired.

  The morning soon began to dawn; and that morning I shall never forget. Who

  that has stood on the banks of the mighty stream that then rolled before me can

  forget the emotions of sublimity that filled his heart, as in imagination he has

  traced those channels of intercourse opened by it and its branches through the

  illimitable regions of this western world? I thought of future ages, and of the

  countless millions that should dwell on this mighty stream; and that nothing but

  the truth would make them free. Never did I feel as then the value of the right

  for which we were contending thoroughly to investigate and fearlessly to proclaim

  that truth. Oh the sublimity of moral power! By it God sways the universe.

  By it he will make the nations free.

  I passed through the scuttle to the roof, and ascended to the highest point of

  the wall. The sky and the river were beginning to glow with approaching day,

  and the busy hum of business to be heard. I looked with exultation on the scenes

  below. I felt that a bloodless battle had been gained for God and for the truth;

  and that Alton was redeemed from eternal shame. And as all around grew

  brighter with approaching day, I thought of that still brighter sun, even now

  dawning on the world, and soon to bathe it with floods of glorious light.

  Brother Lovejoy, too, was happy. He did not exult; he was tranquil and com-

  posed, but his countenance indicated the state of his mind. It was a calm and

  tranquil joy; for he trusted in God that the point was gained, that the banner of

  an unfettered press would soon wave over that mighty stream.

  Vain hopes! How soon to be buried in a martyr's grave! Vain, did I say?

  No: they are not vain. Though dead, he still speaketh; and a united world can


  never silence his voice.

  The conclusion of the tragedy is briefly told. A volunteer

  company, of whom Lovejoy was one, was formed to act under

  the mayor in defence of the law. The next night the mob assailed

  the building at ten o'clock. The store consisted of two stone

  buildings in one block, with doors and windows at each end, but

  no windows at the sides. The roof was of wood. Mr. Gilman,

  opening the end door of the third story, asked what they wanted.

  They demanded the press. He refused to give it up, and ear-

  nestly intreated them to go away without violence, assuring

  them that, as the property had been committed to their charge,

  they should defend it at the risk of their lives. After some inef-

  fectual attempts, the mob shouted to set fire to the roof. Mr.

  Lovejoy, with some others, went out to defend it from this

  attack, and was shot down by the deliberate aim of one of the

  mob. After this wound he had barely strength to return to the

  store, went up one flight of stairs, fell, and expired.

  Those within then attempted to capitulate, but were refused

  with curses by the mob, who threatened to burn the store, and

  shoot them as they came out. At length the building was actu-

  ally on fire, and they fled out, fired on as they went by the mob.

  So terminated the Alton Tragedy.

  When the noble mother of Lovejoy heard of his death, she

  said, “It is well. I had rather he would die so than forsake his

  principles!” All is not over with America while such mothers

  are yet left. Was she not blessed who could give up such a son

  in such a spirit? Who was that woman whom God pronounced

  blessed above all women? Was it not she who saw her dearest

  crucified? So differently does God see from what man sees!

  CHAPTER IV.

  SERVITUDE IN THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH COMPARED WITH

  AMERICAN SLAVERY.

  “Look now upon this picture!--and on this.”

  -- It is the standing claim of those professors of religion at the

  South who support slavery that they are pursuing the same

  course in relation to it that Christ and his apostles did. Let us

  consider the course of Christ and his apostles, and the nature of

  the kingdom which they founded, and see if this be the fact.

  Napoleon said, “Alexander, Cæsar, Charlemagne, and myself,

  have founded empires; but upon what did we rest the creation

  of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ alone founded his

  empire upon love.”

  The desire to be above others in power, rank, and station is

  one of the deepest in human nature. If there is anything which

  distinguishes man from other creatures, it is that he is par excel-

  lence an oppressive animal. On this principle, as Napoleon ob-

  served, all empires have been founded; and the idea of founding

  a kingdom in any other way had not even been thought of when

  Jesus of Nazareth appeared.

  When the serene Galilean came up from the waters of Jordan,

  crowned and glorified by the descending Spirit, and began to

  preach, saying, “The kingdom of God is at hand,” what expecta-

  tions did he excite? Men's heads were full of armies to be mar-

  shalled, of provinces to be conquered, of cabinets to be formed,

  and offices to be distributed. There was no doubt at all that he

  could get all these things for them, for had he not miraculous

  power?

  Therefore it was that Jesus of Nazareth was very popular,

  and drew crowds after him.

  Of these, he chose, from the very lowest walk of life, twelve

  men of the best and most honest heart which he could find, that

  he might make them his inseparable companions, and mould

  them, by his sympathy and friendship, into some capacity to

  receive and transmit his ideas to mankind.

  But they, too, simple-hearted and honest though they were,

  were bewildered and bewitched by the common vice of mankind;

  and, though they loved him full well, still had an eye on the

  offices and ranks which he was to confer, when, as they ex-

  pected, this miraculous kingdom should blaze forth.

  While his heart was struggling and labouring, and nerving

  itself by nights of prayer to meet desertion, betrayal, denial,

  rejection, by his beloved people, and ignominious death, they were for ever wrangling about the offices in the new kingdom.

  Once and again, in the plainest way, he told them that no such

  thing was to be looked for; that there was to be no distinction

  in his kingdom, except the distinction of pain, and suffering,

  and self-renunciation, voluntarily assumed for the good of

  mankind.

  His words seemed to them as idle tales. In fact, they con-

  sidered him as a kind of a myth--a mystery--a strange, super-

  natural, inexplicable being, for ever talking in parables, and

  saying things which they could not understand.

  One thing only they held fast to: he was a king--he would

  have a kingdom; and he had told them that they should sit on

  twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

  And so, when he was going up to Jerusalem to die--when

  that anguish, long wrestled with in the distance, had come almost

  face to face, and he was walking in front of them, silent,

  abstracted, speaking occasionally in broken sentences, of which

  they feared to ask the meaning--they, behind, beguiled the time

  with the usual dispute of “who should be greatest.”

  The mother of James and John came to him, and, breaking

  the mournful train of reverie, desired a certain thing of him--

  that her two sons might sit at his right hand and his left, as

  prime ministers, in the new kingdom. With his sad, far-seeing

  eye still fixed upon Gethsemane and Calvary, he said, “Ye know

  not what ye ask. Are ye able to drink of the cup which I shall

  drink of, and to be baptised with the baptism wherewith I shall

  be baptised?”

  James and John were both quite certain that they were able.

  They were willing to fight through anything for the kingdom's

  sake. The ten were very indignant. Were they not as willing

  as James and John? And so there was a contention among

  them.

  “But Jesus called them to him and said, Ye know that the

  princes of the Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and their

  great ones exercise authority upon them; but it shall not be so

  among you.

  “Whosoever will be great among you, let him be your

  minister; and whosoever will be chief among you, let him be

  your servant--yea, the servant of all. For even the Son of Man

  came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his

  life a ransom for many.”

  Let us now pass on to another week in this history. The

  disciples have seen their Lord enter triumphantly into Jerusalem,

  amid the shouts of the multitude. An indescribable something

  in his air and manner convinces them that a great crisis is at

  hand. He walks among men as a descended God. Never

  were his words so thrilling and energetic. Never were words

  spoken on earth which so breathe and burn as these of the
last

  week of the life of Christ. All the fervour and imagery and fire

  of the old prophets seemed to be raised from the dead, ethe-

  realised and transfigured in the person of this Jesus. They dare

  not ask him, but they are certain that the kingdom must be

  coming. They feel, in the thrill of that mighty soul, that a

  great cycle of time is finishing, and a new era in the world's

  history beginning. Perhaps at this very Feast of the Passover

  is the time when the miraculous banner is to be unfurled, and

  the new, immortal kingdom, proclaimed. Again the ambitious

  longings arise. This new kingdom shall have ranks and dig-

  nities. And who is to sustain them? While, therefore, their

  Lord sits lost in thought, revolving in his mind that simple

  ordinance of love which he is about to constitute the sealing

  ordinance of his kingdom, it is said again, “There was a strife

  among them which should be accounted the greatest.”

  This time Jesus does not remonstrate. He expresses no impa-

  tience, no weariness, no disgust. What does he, then? Hear

  what St. John says:

  “Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his

  hands, and that he was come from God and went to God, he

  riseth from supper, and laid aside his garments, and took a towel

  and girded himself. After that, he poureth water into a basin,

  and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the

  towel wherewith he was girded.” “After he had washed their

  feet and had taken his garments and was sat down again, he said

  unto them, Know ye what I have done to you? Ye call me

  Master and Lord: and ye say well, for so I am. If I, then,

  your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to

  wash one another's feet; for I have given you an example that

  ye should do as I have done to you.

  “Verily, verily I say unto you, the servant is not greater than

  his lord, neither he that is sent greater than he that sent him.

  Here, then, we have the king, and the constitution of the

  kingdom. The king on his knees, at the feet of his servants,

  performing the lowest menial service, with the announcement,

  “I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have