NARRATOR : The earnest seeker and hopeful discoverer of this new world always haunts the outskirts of his or her time. Our history is written in the lives of such individuals.
West of Cincinnato, Edward Beecher had established himself as president of Illinois College in Jacksonville, Illinois. Events were to place Edward at the center of controvery as he and his generation faced the great question of slavery.
Most of the Beechers still lived in or near Cincinnati, where Lyman Beecher was president of Lane Seminary. Harriet had recently been married to one of Lyman’s professors, the erudite Calvin Stowe, and Henry was acting editor of the Cincinnati Journal, and was soon to be ordained.
Slavery had simply died out in New England—the few slaves in Litchfield, where most of the Beechers had grown up, were quite old by the time the older Beecher chldren knew them. The Beecher household had included two black ‘‘bound girls’’ for kitchen help, but that was by negotiable contract, not involuntary servitude.
But booming Cincinnati was a border town on the great Ohio River—when the spiritual mentioned ‘‘crossing over Jordan,’’ the Ohio was meant. Slaves were often transported down the river to the great New Orleans slavemarket serving the deep South plantations. Slavery was a fact, and merchants and consumers alike had no interest in crippling the region’s economy. Abolitionits in the 1830s had to face indifference and hostility, sometimes even violence, for simply bringing up the subject. Freedom of speech was the first hurdle. Actually abolishing slavery was seen by both sides as a future possiblity, and perhaps not possible at all.
Lyman Beecher’s view of slavery came mainly through church politics. In 1837, the Old School faction finally broke up the union of Presbyterians and Congregationalists. New School ministers, including the Beechers, formed a new assembly.

LYMAN : The South had generally stood neutral . . . but they got scared about abolition. Rice of Virginia got his head full of that thing, and others. John C. Calhoun was at the bottom of it. I know of his doing things—writing to ministers and telling them to do this and do that. The South finally took the Old School side. It was a cruel thing—it was a cursed thing, and ’twas slavery that did it.

NARRATOR : The July 1837 Presbyterian General Assembly split the church, as the Old School wing cast out four abolitionist synods. Charles Beecher explains.

CHARLES : It may not be clear at first why slavery and theology should go hand in hand, in national affairs. But if we reflect that theology is but another name for the politics of the universe, or the kingdom of God, the problem becomes simple. Two systems or schools of theology were contending, called at that time Old School and New School. The former enthrones absolutism, the latter constitutionalism. According to the one, things are right because God wills them, according to others God wills them because they are right. Old School theology enthrones a great slave holder over the universe; New School enthrones a great Emancipator.

NARRATOR : Those politicians who tackled the issue of slavery mainly tried to establish a middle ground between the newly articulate abolitionist movement of William Lloyd Garrison, John Greenleaf Whittier, and the New England intellectuals on the one hand, and the Souther apologists—Hayne of South Carolina, Vice President Calhoun, and others.
Calhoun had elaborated a case for the right of states to nullify acts of Congress—in 1828 he was aiming to defeat the Protectionist Tariff Bill. Hayne took up the cause, and Daniel Webster of Massachusets replied to Hayne’s challenge with a resounding speech on ‘‘Liberty AND Union, now and forever.’’ This debate settled the immediate question of nullification, but Calhoun had opened the door to secession—the idea that a state at least had the right to leave the Union. That was the point of the wedge. Webester, Clay, and the rest often forced themselves into compromises because of the threat of secession, and the South began to recognize and to use this new political leverage. When the showdown came, they would have to use it.
At the time of this debate, a parishioner at Lyman Beecher’s church, William Lloyd Garrison, had tried to prompt Lyman into broadening his theology of immediate repentance into immediate emancipation.

GARRISON : Is not slavery a sin?

LYMAN : Yes.

GARRISON : Well, then, in accordance with your doctrine of immediate repentance is it not the duty of this nation to repent immediately of the sin of slavery and emancipate the slaves?

LYMAN : Oh, Garrison, you can’t reason that way Great economic and political questions can’t be solved so simply. You must take into account what is expedient as well as what is right.

NARRATOR : In the 1820s, it was possible for a great many people to share Lyman Beecher’s vague public optimism that slavery would vanish eventually without anyone lifting a finger. Even Daniel Webster said of Lyman:

WEBSTER : Lyman Beecher is the most keen-sighted, far-sighted man in the United States.

NARRATOR : While President of Illinois College, Edward Beecher became involved in the Illinois anti-slavery movement through Elijah P. Lovejoy. Lovejoy had recently been forced to move from St. Louis to Alton, Illinois, just a few miles from Jacksonville, where Edward’s college was.
By 1835, the anti-abolitionist riots, the gag rule in Congress, suppression of abolitionist materials in the mail, all infringed on the Bill of Rights—freedom of speech, of assembly, of the press. In the spirit of free speech, Elijah Lovejoy in St. Louis had published the statement of principles of the American Antislavery Society, and he wrote an editorial mostly in agreement with them.

LOVEJOY : We only propose that measures shall now be taken for the abolition of slavery, at such distant period of time as may be thought expedient, and eventually for ridding the country altogether of a colored population. Gradual emancipation is the remedy we propose.

NARRATOR : A week later, he received a letter signed ‘‘Citizens of St. Louis.’’’

LETTER : You are asked to pass over in silence everything connected with the subject of slavery. The right of free speech is indeed guaranteed by the Constitution, but that fact does not imply a moral right, on the part of the Abolitionists, to freely discuss the question of slavery, either orally or through the medium of the press. To do so would allow the agitation or a question too nearly allied to the vital interests of the slave-holding states. It may in fact bring ultimately a disseverment of our prosperous Union.

LOVEJOY : The heaviest blows have been those which I have received from the hands of some of my brethren, I cannot surrender my principles, though the whole world besides should vote them down—I can make no compromise between truth and error, even though my life be the alternative.

NARRATOR : At this point, Edward Beecher was willing to give Lovejoy moral support.

EDWARD : I approve the principles which you have adopted and consider them capable of an unanswerable defense. I approve also of the manner in which you have spoken as truly in accordance with the meekness and yet courage demanded in a soldier of the cross, in fighting the battles of the Lord. I see the demands of the friends of the system of slavery, and their determination to muzzle not only abolitionists, but all who are determined gradually and wisely to remove the system, whatever be their ground. I think the time for silence has gone by. I say go on. You will find as you have already that the stand you have taken will increase the number of your friends.

NARRATOR : At Alton, Lovejoy breathed on free soil again—or so he thought. Various anti-slavery men, including Edward, pushed him on toward a leadership role.

EDWARD : At last, on being again requested to bring up the subject of a state anti-slavery convention in Illinois, Lovejoy concluded to mention it in his paper, and ask for an expression of public sentiment. It became clear that there was a general and strong desire that a convention should be held.
The proposal at once aroused the hostilities of the enemies of his sentiments, and laid a foundation for all the disastrous results which have followed. A most disgraceful and incendiary paragraph appeared in a paper in St. Louis, urging the inhabitants of Alton to eject Mr. Lovejoy as a fomenter of divisions and an enemy to the public good. Having failed to intimidate, and having no resourse in argument, they began to mature their plans for the application of force.
At this time I received a letter from Mr. Lovejoy, requesting me, if consistent with my sense of duty, to give my name to the call for a convention. I had up to this time not participated at all in the public discussion which was so deeply exciting the nation.
My views, when I came to this state, were decidedly hostile to the doctrines of immediate emancipation; and it was not until the year 1835 that I became satisfied that the doctrine of gradual emancipation was fallacious, and that of immediate emancipation was philosophical and safe. From that time I felt it to be a matter of immense importance that measures should be taken, kindly but thoroughly, to convince the slave states of the fact, and to urge the claims of duty.
At the same time I was dissatisfied with the spirit of much which had been written on the subject; and with the disposition so common, of pushing true principles to an extreme. On the whole I decidedly preferred to stand on my own ground—to join no society—and to speak as an individual, if I spoke at all. In reply to Mr. Lovejoy, I stated these facts; and added that I would join no society, unless they would assume such grounds as I could approve. In reply, he requested a full statement of all my views, which I freely gave him.
The plans of the friends of mob-law had been matured, the office of Lovejoy’s Observer assailed, and the press destroyed. The perpetrators were then timid. Public sentiment in favor of maintaining the law might easily have prevented it, but no such public sentiment existed.

NARRATOR : Lovejoy called for the State Anti-Slavery Convention for November. Edward Beecher was lukewarm at first, but in August, when Lovejoy’s second second press was smashed, Edward proposed to open the convention to ‘‘friends of free discussion’’ as well as to abolitionists. This idealism of Edward Beecher brought in a lot of colonizationists, people who believed in shipping the blacks to Liberia. As soon as the convention opened, they packed the hall with anti-abolitionists, attacking the convention at the very outset. They were boisterous, disruptive, and intent on wrecking the meeting. Meaningful debate was impossible.
Finally, private meetings were held in homes. Beecher put forth his own particular demands, and the delegates simply nominated him as a committee of one to write the Declaration of Sentiments and to propose topics for the next convention. Thus much of the printed material that came out of the convention was Edward’s.

EDWARD : It is the object of the brethren not to admit of any exception to the idea that slavery is in all cases sinful. Nothing should weaken the power of truth on the conscience. We must so guard our language as not to bring a false accusation against any man, and not to blame anyone for not doing impossibilities.

NARRATOR : Edward’s idealism had a hard go of it at the meeting itself.

EDWARD : I learned that a meeting of the Colonization Society had just been held in Upper Alton, and found that many things had been said tending to excite prejudice and odium against the friends of immediate emancipation.
On my arrival, I found a tumultuous speaker claiming seats for himself and his friends, as the patrons of free inquiry on the subject of slavery; and none of those citizens of Alton on whom I had mainly relied were there. I was also informed that some of the individuals thus claiming seats had already, by aiding or abetting the destruction of the press of the Observer, illustrated their views of free inquiry.
On a procedural point, the friends of free inquiry were divided in the grounds which they should assume, and it was voted to adjourn till the next day.

NARRATOR : The debate was going on all over the country, even in the South. Daniel Webster put forth the diplomatic view:

DANIEL WEBSTER : On the general question of slavery, a great portion of the community is already strongly excited. The subject has not only attracted attention as a question of politics, but has struck a far deeper-toned chord. It has arrested the religious feelings of the country; it has taken strong hold on the consciences of people. It is a rash person, indeed, little conversant with human nature, and especially has s/he a very erroneous estimate of the character of the people of this country, who supposes that a feeling of this kind is to be trifled with or despised. It will assuredly cause itself to be respected.
It may be reasoned with; it may be made willing—I believe it is entirely willing—to fulfill all existing engagements, and all existing duties: to uphold and defend the constitution, as it is established, with whatever regret about some provisions which it does actually contain. But to coerce it into silence—to endeavor to restrain its free expression—to seek to compress and confine it, warm as it is, and more heated as such endeavors would inevitably render it—should all this be attempted, I know nothing even in the Constitution or in the Union itself, which would not be endangered by the explosion which might follow.

NARRATOR : Edward Beecher read to the convention the following letter of Dr. Channing to Henry Clay. CHANNING :That the cause of Republicanism is suffering abroad through the defects and crimes of our countrymen, is as true as that it is regarded with increased skepticism among ourselves. Abroad, republicanism is identified with the United States; and it is certain that the American name has not risen of late in the world. It so happens that whilst writing, I have received a newspaper from England, in which Lynch law is as familiarly associated with our country, as if it were one of our establishments. We are quoted as monuments of the degrading tendencies of popular institutions. When I visited England, fifteen years ago, republican sentiments were freely expressed to me. I should probably hear none now.
It is believed abroad that property is less secure among us, order less stable, law less revered, social ties more easily broken, religion less enforced, life held less sacred, than in other countries. The least civilized parts of the country are made to represent the whole; and occasional atrocities are construed into habits. But who does not feel that we have given cause of reproach? And shall we fix this reproach and exasperate it into indignation and hatred, by adopting a policy against which the moral sentiments of the Christian world revolt? Shall we make the name of a republic ‘‘a stench in the nostrils of all nations’’?

NARRATOR : At the end of the relatively calm convention, beecher stayed to try to persuade the local neutrals, and to help Lovejoy replace his third press, destroyed just before the convention opened.

LOVEJOY : 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? The mob has pursued me here, and why should I retreat again? Where can I be safe if not here? 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.
I appeal to every individual present; whom of you have I injured? Whose family have I molested? Whose business have I meddled with? If any, let him rise here and testify against me.
You have courts, and judges and juries; they find nothing against me. Pause, I beseech you, and reflect. The present excitement will soon be over; the voice of conscience will at last be heard.

NARRATOR : Elijah Lovejoy’s fourth press was coming by boat to Alton in the evening—but word was sent to the captain to delay arrival until 3 a.m. The ploy worked—spies for the mob left when it looked as if the press was not coming.
Meanwhile 30 supporters of the press gathered at Mr. Gillman’s store. At the early morning hour, they stationed themselves to ward off any attack, and the press was safely landed. Shortly afterward, Lovejoy and Beecher went down to see.

EDWARD : 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 sounds 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 infuriated mob, and be stained with his own heart’s blood
We found the boat there and the press in the warehouse; we aided in raising it to the third story. All felt the crisis was over. It was thought that a small number was sufficient to guard the press afterward. Mr. Lovejoy and myself offered to take charge of the press till morning; and the rest 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? 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.
Brother Lovejoy, too, was happy. He did not exult: he was tranquil and composed; 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.
We returned to his house, and before my departure we united in prayer. Cheered by hopes I bade the Lovejoy’s farewell, and began my journey homeward. On my way I heard passing rumors of a meditated attack on the store; but gave them no weight.

NARRATOR : Edward Beecher did not see the final night. The group defending the press had some forewarning, and more were there than had been the night before. The attack came at ten o’clock.
At first, the mob demanded the press. Mr. Gilman refused, and he was then threatened with a pistol, and he withdrew. Stones broke several windows, and the mob fired several shots. Shot were returned from inside, and one rioter, Lyman Bishop, was killed.
At this, the mob retired, and returned with ladders lashed together, in order to set fire to the wooden roof. The mayor appeared, but he had insufficient forces with him to sway the mob. They demanded that he enter the store and obtain the press for them. The mayor went in.
Gilman and the others refused the mob’s request—but Gilman asked the mayor to prevent destruction of his building. The mayor said he could not, but he authorized those inside to continue to defend the property by arms.
When the mayor returned to the mob, and gave Gilman’s answer, immediately men went up the ladders to fire the roof. Since the building had windows front and back, but not on the sides, the defenders had to make a difficult choice. In order to prevent the attack on the roof, they would have to go outside the building. Lovejoy was in this group.
They turned the corner, saw the ladder and fired and wounded the man trying to set the fire. The rest dispersed, but hid themselves to prevent another raid. The defenders went back inside to reload, and when they returned outside, Elijah Lovejoy took five balls in his body. He had strength enough to go inside, and climb one flight of stairs before he died.
The remaining defenders then found out that the building was on fire, and they tried to surrender, but were unable to. Finally a prominent citizen came forward out of the mob, and offered to stand between them and the mob as they ran down Water Street.
The mob then entered, and destroyed the press. By this time, a great many spectators had gathered, neither to assist nor to defend.

EDWARD : There is no tyranny on earth so exercrable as the tyranny of a mob.

NARRATOR : In Jacksonville, Beecher faced public attack, censure, calls for his resignation; with the support of his faculty, he weathered the storm. Edward Beecher was now a national figure in the abolitionist movement, respected even by Garrison.
An Alton jury exonerated the mob leaders, and a week later, Abraham Lincoln denounced mob lawlessness in a speech at the Lyceum in nearby Springfield. In Hudson, Ohio, John Brown consecrates himself to wiping out slavery. Owen Lovejoy, Elijah’s brother, becomes a leader of the radical abolitionists. At Boston’s Faneuil Hall, young Wendall Phillips pleads for freedom of the press, and thus begins his career as the voice of abolitionism.
John Quincy Adams, the former President, spoke in the Senate.

ADAMS : The death of Elijah Lovejoy at the hands of a mob came like the shock of an earthquake to the Yankee conscience; it marks an epocha in the annals of human liberty.

NARRATOR : By January, Edward shipped his manuscript about the Alton affair to New York, but it was stolen or lost. He copied it again and sent it to Alton to be printed. His indictment of slavery and defense of freedom of inquiry and the rights of the individual is moving and eloquent.
Other books had reported many of the facts by the time Edward’s saw print. But none were by an eyewitness and participant, and no other account included Edward’s keen analysis of the Alton Riot.
The conclusions that he drew from the experience continued to develop in Edward Beecher’s mind, crystallizing into an idea that he could finally name eight years later; he called it the ‘‘theory of organic sin.’’ The concept was that society itself might fall into a state of sin—such as slavery. Lyman Beecher interpreted it his own way.

LYMAN : Come out in one sentence and say that Organic Sin means National Sin—make it stand out—and stop all this flummery that Phelps will make about the word.

EDWARD : If the organization of the body politic creates false and sinful permanent relations between the individuals who compose the body politic, that, and only that, as I use the term, is an organic sin.

NARRATOR : Within the abolitionist movement, Edward had to be assured by the secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society, James G. Birney, that its own Declaration of Sentiment, written by William Lloyd Garrison, need not apply to auxiliary organizations.
According to Edward Beecher, Garrison’s document contained a historical inaccuracy—the New Testament did not define slaveholder as ‘‘manstealer,’’ but in fact some early Christians were slaveholders, though that was a time of deep moral ignorance. Also, although slaveholding was sinful, the guilt was not to be placed solely and entirely on the back of the individual slaveholder, as Garrison did. Beecher’s own version, the Illinois Declaration of Sentiment, declared that there were grades of guilt. Dissolving the legal relationship of slave and master was a matter for the community as well as the master. This was the theory of organic sin—that the community as a whole might be guilty. So, by this document, Edward Beecher became the theoretician of conservative abolitionism.
In the campaign of 1840, conservative abolitionists were prominant in the new Liberty Party, which nominated James Birney. Edward Beecher worked with Birney and the Liberty Party organizer, Gerritt Smith. These men, together with the Tappans, John Greenleaf Whittier, Jay, and Leavitt broke away from Garrison’s American Anti-Slavery Society to form a rival organization, the American and Foreign Antislavery Society.