e these words (in a lecture on "The Young
American," in Boston, 1844) he had reached a commanding position,
carrying with it gravest responsibilities; the destinies of hundreds
of young men and women were determined by his lectures. But with
reference to the anti-slavery movement, he did more than he exacted
from others, and recognized it as a far more important reform than
others When, in 1835, Harriet Martineau was nearly mobbed in Boston,
personal violence being threatened and no prominent citizen venturing
to her side, Emerson and his brother Charles hastened to her defence.
"At the time of the hubbub against me in Boston," she writes in her
autobiography, "Charles Emerson stood alone in a large company in
defence of the right of free thought and speech, and declared that he
had rather see Boston in ashes than that I, or anybody else, should be
debarred in any way from perfectly free speech. His brother Waldo
invited me to be his guest in the midst of my unpopularity."

In 1844, when Massachusetts citizen negroes had been taken to prison
from ships in southern ports, Emerson delivered an oration on the
anniversary of West Indian emancipation, and spoke sternly on the
matter. "If such a damnable outrage can be committed on the person of
a citizen with impunity, let the Governor break the broad seal of the
State; he bears the sword in vain. The Governor of Massachusetts is a
trifler, the State-House in Boston is a play-house; the General Court
is a dishonored body, if they make laws which they cannot execute. The
great-hearted Puritans have left no posterity." He demanded that the
representatives of the State should demand of Congress the instant
release, by force if necessary, of the imprisoned negro seamen, and
their indemnification. As for dangers to the Union from such
demands--"the Union is already at an end when the first citizen of
Massachusetts is thus outraged." This address was a bugle, and it
filled the anti-slavery ranks with fresh courage. The _Herald of
Freedom_, reporting it at the time, says their eyes were filled with
tears as this leader of New England literature came from his poetic
solitude to join hands with them.

The service which students and literary men could render in those days
was often the subject of anxious consultation, and Emerson never
failed to counsel sacrifices for the public duty.

"When the ship is in a storm," he used to say, "the passengers must
lend a hand, and even women t