A planter in Virginia, being pressed for money, sold one of his
bondwomen, of sixteen years old, to a speculator who was buying up
slaves for the markets of the South and South-west. The girl was
uncommonly handsome, with smooth hair, and a complexion as light as most
white people. Her new owner, allured by her beauty, treated her with
great kindness, and made many flattering promises. She understood his
motives, and wished to escape from the degradation of such a destiny as
he had in store for her. In order to conciliate her good will, he
imposed few restraints upon her. The liberty thus allowed gave her a
favorable opportunity to abscond, which she did not fail to improve. She
travelled to Philadelphia without encountering any difficulties on the
road; for her features and complexion excited no suspicion of her being
a fugitive slave. She maintained herself very comfortably by her own
industry, and after a time married a light mulatto, who was a very sober
industrious man. He was for many years employed by Joshua Humphreys, a
ship-carpenter of great respectability in the District of Southwark. By
united industry and frugality they were enabled to build a small house
on a lot they had taken on ground rent. The furniture was simple, but
extremely neat, and all the floors were carpeted. Every thing indicated
good management and domestic comfort.
She had been in Philadelphia thirteen years, and was the mother of a
promising family, when in 1808 she was arrested by her last master, as a
fugitive slave. The Virginian who sold her, and two other persons from
the South, attended as witnesses. Isaac T. Hopper also attended, with
his trusty friend Thomas Harrison. When the witnesses were examined, her
case appeared utterly hopeless; and in private conversation with Friend
Hopper she admitted that she was a slave to the man who claimed her. Mr.
Humphreys, pitying the distress of his honest, industrious workman,
offered to advance one hundred dollars toward purchasing her freedom.
But when Isaac T. Hopper and Thomas Harrison attempted to negotiate with
the claimant for that purpose, he treated all their offers with the
rudest contempt. They tried to work upon his feelings, by representing
the misery he would inflict on her worthy husband and innocent children;
but he turned a deaf ear to all their entreaties. They finally offered
to pay him four hundred dollars for a deed of manumission, which at that
time was considered a very high price; but he stopped all further
discussion by declaring, with a violent oath, that he would not sell her
on _any_ terms. Of course, there was nothing to be done, but to await
the issue of the trial.
When the magistrate asked the woman whether she were a slave, Friend
Hopper promptly objected to her answering that question, unless he would
agree to receive as evidence _all_ she might say. He declined doing
that. Friend Hopper then made some remarks, in the course of which he
said, "The most honest witnesses are often mistaken as to the identity
of persons. It surprises me that the witnesses in this case should be so
very positive, when the woman was but sixteen years old at the time they
say she eloped, and such a long period has since elapsed.
"The question at stake is as important as life itself to this woman, to
her honest husband, and to her poor little innocent children. For my
own part, I conscientiously believe she has a _just_ claim to her
freedom."
All this time, the woman stood holding her little girl and boy by the
hand. She was deeply dejected, but her manners were as calm and
dignified, as if she had been one of the best educated ladies in the
land. The children were too young to understand the terrible doom that
threatened their mother, but they perceived that their parents were in
some great trouble, and the little creatures wept in sympathy.
When Friend Hopper described this scene forty years afterward, he used
to say, "I shall never forget the anguish expressed in her handsome
countenance, as she looked down upon her children. I see it as plainly
as if it all happened yesterday."
At the time, it was almost too much for his sympathizing heart to
endure. He felt like moving heaven and earth to rescue her. The trial
came on in the afternoon, and it happened that the presiding magistrate
was accustomed to drink rather freely of wine after dinner. Friend
Hopper perceived that his mental faculties were slightly confused, and
that the claimant was a heavy, stupid-looking fellow. With these
thoughts there suddenly flashed through his brain the plan of eluding an
iniquitous law, in order to sustain a higher law of justice and
humanity. He asked to have the case adjourned till the next day, that
there might be further opportunity to inquire into it; adding, "Thomas
Harrison and myself will be responsible to the United States for this
woman's appearance to-morrow. In case of forfeiture, we will agree to
pay any sum that may be deemed reasonable."
The claimant felt perfectly sure of his prey, and made no objection to
the proposed arrangement. It was accordingly entered on the docket that
Thomas Harrison and Isaac T. Hopper were bound to the United States, in
the sum of one thousand dollars, to produce the woman for further trial
at nine o'clock the next morning.
When Friend Hopper had obtained a copy of the recognizance, signed by
the magistrate, he chuckled inwardly and marched out of the office. If
there was a flaw in anything, Thomas Harrison had a jocose way of
saying, "There is a hole in the ballad." As they went into the street
together, his friend said, "Thomas, there's a hole in the ballad. The
recognizance we have just signed is good for nothing. The United States
have not the slightest claim upon that woman."
The next morning, at nine o'clock all parties, except the woman, were at
the mayor's office. After waiting for her about an hour, the magistrate
said, "Well gentlemen, the woman does not make her appearance, and I
shall be obliged to forfeit your recognizance."
"A thousand dollars is a large sum to lose," rejoined Friend Hopper.
"But if it comes to the worst, I suppose we must make up our minds to
pay the United States all the claim they have upon us."
"The United States! The United States!" exclaimed the magistrate
quickly. He turned to look at his docket, and after a slight pause he
said to the claimant, "There is difficulty here. You had better employ
counsel."
Thomas Ross, a respectable lawyer, who lived a few doors above, was
summoned, and soon made his appearance. Having heard the particulars of
the case briefly stated, he also examined the docket; then turning to
Isaac T. Hopper, with a comical gesture and tone, he exclaimed, "Eh!" To
the claimant he said, "You must catch your slave again if you can; for
you can do nothing with these securities."
Of course, the master was very angry, and so was the magistrate, who had
inadvertently written the recognizance just as it was dictated to him.
They charged Friend Hopper with playing a trick upon them, and
threatened to prosecute him. He told them he had no fears concerning a
prosecution; and if he _had_ played a trick, he thought it was better
than to see a helpless woman torn from husband and children and sent
into slavery.
The magistrate asked, "How could you say you believed the woman had a
right to her freedom? You have brought forward no evidence whatever to
prove your assertion."
He replied, "I did not say I believed she had a _legal_ right to her
freedom. That she had a _just_ right to it, I did believe; for I think
every human being has a just claim to freedom, unless guilty of some
crime. The system of slavery is founded on the grossest and most
manifest injustice."
"It is sanctioned by the law of the land," answered the claimant; "and
you have no right to fly in the face of the laws."
Friend Hopper contented himself with saying, "If I have broken any law,
I stand ready to meet the consequences. But no law can make wrong
right."
The speculator spent several days in fruitless search after the
fugitive. When he had relinquished all hopes of finding her, he called
on Isaac T. Hopper and offered to manumit her for four hundred dollars.
He replied, "At one time, we would gladly have given that sum; but now
the circumstances of the case are greatly changed, and we cannot consent
to give half that amount." After considerable controversy he finally
agreed to take one hundred and fifty dollars. The money was paid, and
the deed of manumission made out in due form. At parting, the claimant
said, with a very bitter smile, "I hope I may live to see you south of
the Potomac some day."
Friend Hopper replied, "Thou hadst better go home and repent of sins
already committed, instead of meditating the commission of more."
When telling this story in after years, he was wont to say, "I am aware
that some will disapprove of the part I acted in that case; because they
will regard it as inconsistent with the candor which men ought always to
practice toward each other. I can only say that my own conscience has
never condemned me for it. I could devise no other means to save the
poor victim."
Before we decide to blame Friend Hopper more than he blamed himself in
this matter, it would be well to imagine how we ourselves should have
felt, if we had been witnesses of the painful scene, instead of reading
it in cool blood, after a lapse of years. If a handsome and modest woman
stood before us with her weeping little ones, asking permission to lead
a quiet and virtuous life, and a pitiless law was about to tear her from
husband and children and consign her to the licentious tyrant from whom
she had escaped, should we not be strongly tempted to evade such a law
by any means that offered at the moment?
It would be wiser to expend our moral indignation on statesmen who
sanction and sustain laws so wicked, that just and kind-hearted citizens
are compelled either to elude them, or to violate their own honest
convictions and the best emotions of their hearts.