His mission was clearly at an end unless he was
determined to invite martyrdom. In these circumstances there was nothing
to do but to smuggle him out of the country at the first opportunity. On
Sunday, November 8, the anxiously looked-for moment came when George
Thompson was put upon a packet, in which he sailed for St. Johns, New
Brunswick, whence he subsequently took passage for England. Garrison was
inconsolable. "Who now shall go forth to argue our cause in public," he
sadly asked, "with subtle sophists and insolent scoffers?" little
dreaming that there was then approaching him out of the all-hail
hereafter a greater in these identical respects than George Thompson,
indisputably great as he was.
It was a blessed refuge to Garrison, the Benson homestead of Brooklyn,
termed Friendship's Valley. Hunted as a partridge by his enemies here he
found the quiet, and sympathy, and the right royal welcome and affection
for which his heart panted amidst the dust, and din, and dangers of the
crusade against slavery. But grateful as were the domestic sweets of
Friendship's Valley, his was altogether too militant and masterful a
spirit to yield himself without a struggle to the repose which it
offered. He did not at all relish the idea of being a forced exile from
Boston, of being obliged to edit the _Liberator_ at such long range. But
his friends urged him to submit to the one, and do the other, both on
grounds of economy and common prudence.
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