THE MOBBING OF GARRISON IN THE STREETS OF BOSTON

William Lloyd Garrison's Own Account.

THIS incident, described in the "Life of Garrison, Told by His Children," illustrates the kind of persecution to which pioneer abolitionists were subjected, even in New England. The Boston mob was roused to action by a meeting of the Boston Anti-Slavery Society, in October, 1835, at which, it was rumored, the English abolitionist, Thompson, was to speak. Garrison's life had been threatened repeatedly; and at one time the State of Georgia offered $5,000 for his arrest and prosecution.

His earlier tribulations came about through his zeal as editor of the "Liberator," which he founded in Boston in 1831, and by his publication of "Thoughts on African Colonization," denouncing the moderate opponents of slavery. Later on Garrison went so far as to denounce the United States Constitution as "a covenant with death and an agreement with hell." His own account of the mobbing is a good example of his vigorous style of writing.

IT was apparent that the multitude would not disperse until I had left the building; and as egress out of the front door was impossible, the Mayor and his assistants, as well as some of my friends, earnestly besought me to effect my escape in the rear of the building.

Preceded by my faithful and beloved friend, Mr. J R C--, I dropped from a back window onto a shed, and narrowly escaped falling headlong to the ground. We entered into a carpenter's shop, through which we attempted to get into Wilson's Lane, but found our retreat cut off by the mob. They raised a shout as soon as we came in sight, but the workmen promptly closed the door of the shop, kept them at bay for a time, and thus kindly afforded me an opportunity to find some other passage.

I told Mr. C. it would be futile to attempt to escape I would go out to the mob, and let them deal with me as they might elect; but he thought it was my duty to avoid them as long as possible. We then went upstairs, and, finding a vacancy in one corner of the room, I got into it, and he and a young lad piled up some boards in front of me to shield me from observation. In a few minutes several ruffians broke into the chamber, who seized Mr. C. in a rough manner, and led him out to the view of the mob, saying, "This is not Garrison, but Garrison's and Thompson's friend, and he says he knows where Garrison is, but won't tell." Then a shout of exultation was raised by the mob, and what became of him I do not know; though, as I was immediately discovered, I presume he escaped.

On seeing me, three or four of the rioters, uttering a yell, furiously dragged me to the window, with the intention of hurling me from that height to the ground; but one of them relented, and said "Don't let us kill him outright." So they drew me back, and coiled a rope about my body probably to drag me through the streets. I bowed to the mob, and, requesting them to wait patiently until I could descend, went down upon a ladder that was raised for that purpose. I fortunately extricated myself from the rope, and was seized by two or three powerful men, to whose firmness, policy and muscular energy I am probably indebted for my preservation.

They led me along bareheaded (for I had lost my hat), through a mighty crowd, ever and anon shouting "He sha'n't be hurt!! You sha'n't hurt him! Don't hurt him! He is an American," etc., etc. This seemed to excite sympathy among many in the crowd, and they reiterated the cry, "He sha'n't be hurt!" I was thus conducted through Wilson's Lane into State Street, in the rear of the City Hall, over the ground that was stained with the blood of the first martyrs in the cause of liberty and independence, by the memorable massacre of 1770 and upon which was proudly unfurled, only a few years since, with joyous acclamations, the beautiful banner presented to the gallant Poles by the young men of Boston!

Orders were now given to carry me to the Mayor's office in the City Hall. As we approached the south door, the Mayor attempted to protect me by his presence; but as he was unassisted by any show of authority or force, he was quickly thrust aside and now came a tremendous rush on the part of the mob to prevent my entering the hall. For a moment the conflict was dubious but my sturdy supporters carried me safely up to the Mayor's room.

Having had my clothes rent asunder, one individual kindly lent me a pair of pantaloons another, a coat. a third, a stock a fourth, a cap as a substitute for my lost hat. After a consultation of fifteen or twenty minutes, the Mayor and his advisers came to the singular conclusion, that the building would be endangered by my continuing in it, and that the preservation of my life depended upon committing me to jail, ostensibly as a disturber of the peace! A hack was got in readiness at the door to receive me and, supported by Sheriff Parkman and Ebenezer Bailey, Esq. (the Mayor leading the way), I succeeded in getting into it without much difficulty, as I was not readily identified in my new garb.

Now came a scene that baffles the power of description. As the ocean, lashed into fury by the spirit of the storm, seeks to whelm the adventurous bark beneath its mountain waves so did the mob, enraged by a series of disappointments, rush like a whirlwind upon the frail vehicle in which I sat, and endeavored to drag me out of it. Escape seemed a physical impossibility. They clung to the wheels--dashed open the doors seized hold of the horses and tried to upset the carriage. They were, however, vigorously repulsed by the police a constable sprang in by my side the doors were closed and the driver, lustily using his whip upon the bodies of his horses and the heads of the rioters, happily made an opening through the crowd, and drove at a tremendous speed for Leverett Street. But many of the rioters followed even with superior swiftness, and repeatedly attempted to arrest the progress of the horses. To reach the jail by a direct course was found impracticable; and after going in a circuitous direction, and encountering many "hairbreadth 'scapes," we drove up to this new and last refuge of liberty and life, when another bold attempt was made to seize me by the mob but in vain. In a few moments I was locked up in a cell, safe from my persecutors, accompanied by two delightful associates, a good conscience and a cheerful mind.