It was in those days a mortal offence to call a man an abolitionist. The popular mind scarcely distinguished between men who stole horses and men who freed negroes. They regarded anti-slavery men as robbers, disturbers of the peace, the instigators of arson, and enemies to the Union which gave us as a people liberty and strength. "In testimony of these sentiments, Illinois enacted a 'black code' of most preposterous and cruel severity,--a code that would have been a disgrace to a slave state, and was simply an infamy in a free one. It borrowed the provisions of the most revolting laws known among men, for exiling, selling, beating, bedeviling, and torturing negroes, whether bond or free."[122] [122] Lamon, 206. That the opposition of slavery was bothering the people of Sangamon County, is evident from the following resolution adopted at Springfield in 1837 at a public meeting, over which Judge Brown presided: "Resolved that in the opinion of this meeting the doctrine of the immediate emancipation of the slaves of this country (although promulgated by those who profess to be Christians) is at variance with Christianity, and its tendency is to breed contention, broil and mobs; and the leaders of those calling themselves Abolitionists are designing ambitious men and dangerous members of society and should be shunned by all good citizens."[123] [123] History of Sangamon County, 251. Illinois would scarcely brook unchained utterance on the darkest question of all the ages,--the "right of one man to eat the bread which another earned." A kind of stifling ostracism awaited the lowly or the towering disciple who spoke in the language of Jefferson, of the fear awakening problem. Every generation has its remorseless method of crucifying its heroes of speech and deed. Business and political interests, social influences and religious affiliations concerted in the crushing of abolitionism. Success might have crowned their effort had prudence been their companion, but they mobbed, maltreated, and even murdered the champions of the new movement. Had madness confounded them, they could not have acted more unwisely. This, more than all the agitation of abolition leaders, quickened the moral vitality of the people. There were many white men who cared little for the slave, but much for the gospel of free speech as old as the Anglo-Saxon race. This fatal policy of brute force finally dictated the doom of a power that long mocked all opposition, that dreamed of an imperial government grander than the vision which "Stout Cortez" beheld when he first stared at the Pacific, "silent on a peak in Darien."