Friend Hopper’s bookstore in New-York was a place of great resort for members of his own sect. His animated style of conversation, his thousand and one anecdotes of runaway slaves, his descriptions of keen encounters with the “Orthodox,” in the process of separation, attracted many listeners. His intelligence and well-known conscientiousness commanded respect, and he was held in high estimation by his own branch of the Society, though the opposite party naturally entertained a less favorable opinion of the “Hicksite” champion. Such a character as he was must necessarily always be a man of mark, with warm friends and bitter enemies.
His resemblance to Bonaparte attracted attention in New-York, as it had done in Philadelphia. Not long after he removed to that city, there was a dramatic representation at the Park Theatre, in which Placide personated the French Emperor. While this play was attracting public attention, the manager happened to meet Friend Hopper in the street. As soon as he saw him, he exclaimed, “Here is Napoleon himself come back again!” He remarked to some of his acquaintance that he would gladly give that Quaker gentleman one hundred dollars a night, if he would consent to appear on the stage in the costume of Bonaparte.
About this period northern hostility to slavery took a new form, more bold and uncompromising than the old Abolition Societies. It demanded the immediate and unconditional emancipation of every slave, in a voice which has not yet been silenced, and never will be, while the oppressive system continues to disgrace our country. Of course, Friend Hopper could not otherwise than sympathize with any movement for the abolition of slavery, based on pacific principles. Pictures and pamphlets, published by the Anti-Slavery Society were offered for sale in his book-store. During the popular excitement on this subject, in 1834, he was told that his store was about to be attacked by an infuriated rabble, and he had better remove all such publications from the window. “Dost thou think I am such a coward as to forsake my principles, or conceal them, at the bidding of a mob?” said he. Presently, another messenger came to announce that the mob were already in progress, at the distance of a few streets. He was earnestly advised at least to put up the shutters, that their attention might not be attracted by the pictures. “I shall do no such thing,” he replied. The excited throng soon came pouring down the street, with loud and discordant yells. Friend Hopper walked out and stood on the steps. The mob stopped in front of his store. He looked calmly and firmly at them, and they looked irresolutely at him, like a wild animal spell-bound by the fixed gaze of a human eye. After a brief pause, they renewed their yells, and some of their leaders called out, “Go on, to Rose-street!” They obeyed these orders, and in the absent of Lewis Tappan, a well-known abolitionist, they burst open his house, and destroyed his furniture.


