that your verdict will then be unanimous, that the law of the United States, as
explained by our venerable judge, when compared with the act committed by me,
was cruel and oppressive, and needs remodelling.
Here follows a very brief and clear statement of the facts in
the case, of which the reader is already apprised.
After showing conclusively that he had no reason to suppose
the family to be slaves, and that they had all been discharged by
the judge, he nobly adds the following words:--
Had I believed every one of them to be slaves, I should have done the same thing.
I should have done violence to my convictions of duty, had I not made use of all
the lawful means in my power to liberate those people, and assist them to become
men and women, rather than leave them in the condition of chattels personal.
I am called an Abolitionist; once a name of reproach, but one I have ever been
proud to be considered worthy of being called. For the last twenty-five years I
have been engaged in the cause of this despised and much-injured race, and con-
sider their cause worth suffering for; but, owing to a multiplicity of other engage-
ments, I could not devote so much of my time and mind to their cause as I other-
wise should have done.
The impositions and persecutions practised on those unoffending and innocent
brethren are extreme beyond endurance. I am now placed in a situation in
which I have not so much to claim my attention as formerly; and I now pledge
myself, in the presence of this assembly, to use all lawful and honourable means
to lessen the burdens of this oppressed people, and endeavour, according to
ability furnished, to burst their chains asunder, and set them free; not relaxing
my efforts on their behalf while blessed with health and a slave remains to tread
the soil of the State of my adoption--Delaware.
After mature reflection, I can assure this assembly it is my opinion at this time
that the verdicts you have given the prosecutors against John Hunn and myself,
within the past few days, will have a tendency to raise a spirit of inquiry through-
out the length and breadth of the land, respecting this monster evil (slavery), in
many minds that have not heretofore investigated the subject. The reports of
those trials will be published by editors from Maine to Texas, and the far West;
and what must be the effect produced? It will, no doubt, add hundreds, perhaps
thousands, to the present large and rapidly increasing army of Abolitionists. The
injury is great to us who are the immediate sufferes by your verdict; but I
believe the verdicts you have given against us within the last few days will have a
powerful effect in bringing about the abolition of slavery in this country--this
land of boasted freedom, where not only the slave is fettered at the South by his
lordly master, but the white man at the North is bound as in chains to do the
bidding of his Southern masters.
In his letter to the writer John Garret adds that, after this
speech, a young man who had served as juryman came across
the room, and taking him by the hand, said--
“Old gentleman, I believe every statement that you have
made. I came from home prejudiced against you, and I now
acknowledge that I have helped to do you injustice.”
Thus calmly and simply did this Quaker confess Christ before
men, according as it is written of them of old--“He esteemed
the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures of
Egypt.”
Christ has said, “Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and my
words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed.” In our days
it is not customary to be ashamed of Christ personally, but of
his words many are ashamed. But when they meet Him in
judgment they will have cause to remember them; for heaven
and earth shall pass away, but his words shall not pass away.
Another case of the same kind is of a more affecting character.
Richard Dillingham was the son of a respectable Quaker
family in Morrow County, Ohio. His pious mother brought him
up in the full belief of the doctrine of St. John, that the love of
God and the love of man are inseparable. He was diligently
taught in such theological notions as are implied in such passages
as these: “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid
down his life for us; and we ought also to lay down our lives for
the brethren.--But whoso hath this world's goods and seeth his
brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion
from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?--My little
children, let us not love in word and in tongue, but in deed and
in truth.”
In accordance with these precepts, Richard Dillingham, in
early manhood, was found in Cincinnati teaching the coloured
people, and visiting in the prisons, and doing what in him lay to
“love in deed and in truth.”
Some unfortunate families among the coloured people had
dear friends who were slaves in Nashville, Tennessee. Richard
was so interested in their story, that when he went into Tennessee
he was actually taken up and caught in the very fact of helping
certain poor people to escape to their friends.
He was seized and thrown into prison. In the language of
this world he was imprisoned as a “negro-stealer.” His own
account is given in the following letter to his parents:--
Nashville Jail, 12th mo: 15th, 1849.
Dear Parents,--I presume you have heard of my arrest and imprisonme
in the Nashville jail, under a charge of aiding in an attempted escape of slaves
from the city of Nashville, on the 5th inst. I was arrested by M. D. Maddox
(district constable), aided by Frederick Marshal, watchman at the Nashville Inn,
and the bridge-keeper, at the bridge across the Cumberland river. When they
arrested me, I had rode up to the bridge on horseback and paid the toll for
myself and for the hack to pass over, in which three coloured persons, who were
said to be slaves, were found by the men who arrested me. The driver of the
hack (who is a free coloured man of this city), and the persons in the hack, were
also arrested; and after being taken to the Nashville Inn and searched, we were
all taken to jail. My arrest took place about eleven o'clock at night.
In another letter he says:--
At the bridge, Maddox said to me, “You are just the man we wanted. We
will make an example of you.” As soon as we were safe in the bar-room of the
Inn, Maddox took a candle and looked me in the face, to see if he could recog-
nise my countenance; and looking intently at me a few moments, he said, “Well,
you are too good-looking a young man to be engaged in such an affair as this.”
The by-standers asked me several questions, to which I replied that, under the
present circumstances, I would rather be excused from answering any questions
relating to my case; upon which they desisted from further inquiry. Some
threats and malicious wishes were uttered against me by the ruffian part of the
assembly, being about twenty-five persons. I was put in a cell which had six
persons in it, and I can assure thee that
they were very far from being agreeable
companions to me, although they were kind. But thou knows that I do not
relish cursing and swearing, and, worst of all, loathsome and obscene blasphemy
and of such was most of the conversation of my prison mates when I was first
put in here. The jailors are kind enough to me, but the jail is so constructed
that it cannot be warmed, and we have either to warm ourselves by
walking in our cell, which is twelve by fifteen feet, or by lying in bed. I went
out on my trial on the 16th of last month, and put it off till the next term of the
court, which will be commenced on the second of next 4th month. I put it off
on the ground of excitement.
Dear brother, I have no hopes of getting clear of being convicted and sentenced
to the Penitentiary; but do not think that I am without comfort in my afflictions,
for I assure thee that I have many reflections that give me sweet consolation in
the midst of my grief. I have a clear conscience before my God, which is my
greatest comfort and support through all my troubles and afflictions. An approv-
ing conscience none can know but those who enjoy it. It nerves us in the hour
of trial to bear our sufferings with fortitude and even with cheerfulness. The
greatest affliction I have is the reflection of the sorrow and anxiety my friends will
have to endure on my account. But I can assure thee, brother, that, with the ex-
ception of this reflection, I am far, very far, from being one of the most miserable
of men. Nay, to the contrary, I am not terrified at the prospect before me,
though I am grieved about it; but all have enough to grieve about in this un-
friendly wilderness of sin and woe. My hopes are not fixed in this world, and
therefore I have a source of consolation that will never fail me, so long as I slight
not the offers of mercy, comfort, and peace, which my blessed Saviour constantly
privileges me with.
One source of almost constant annoyance to my feelings is the profanity and
vulgarity, and the bad, disagreeable temper, of two or three fellow-prisoners of my
cell. They show me considerable kindness and respect; but they cannot do other-
wise, when treated with the civility and kindness with which I treat them. If it
be my fate to go to the Penitentiary for eight or ten years, I can, I believe, meet
my doom without shedding a tear. I have not yet shed a tear, though there may
be many in store. My bail-bonds were set at seven thousand dollars, If I should
be bailed out, I should return to my trial, unless my security were rich, and did not
wish me to return; for I am Richard yet, although I am in the prison of my
enemy, and will not flinch from what I believe to be right and honourable. These
are the principles which, in carrying out, have lodged me here; for there was a
time, at my arrest, that I might have, in all probability, escaped the police, but it
would have subjected those who were arrested with me to punishment, perhaps
even to death, in order to find out who I was; and if they had not told more than
they could have done in truth, they would probably have been punished without
mercy; and I am determined no one shall suffer for me. I am now a prisoner,
but those who were arrested with me are all at liberty, and I believe without
whipping. I now stand alone before the Commonwealth of Tennessee to answer
for the affair. Tell my friends I am in the midst of consolation here.
Richard was engaged to a young lady of amiable disposition
and fine mental endowments.
To her he thus writes:--
Oh, dearest! Canst thou upbraid me? canst thou call it crime? wouldst thou
call it crime, or couldst thou upbraid me, for rescuing, or attempting to rescue, thy father, mother, or brother and sister, or even friends, from a captivity among a cruel
race of oppressors? Oh, couldst thou only see what I have seen, and hear what I
have heard, of the sad, vexatious, degrading, and soul-trying situation of as noble
minds as ever the Anglo-Saxon race were possessed of, mourning in vain for that
universal heaven-born boon of freedom which an all-wise and beneficent Creator
has designed for all, thou couldst not censure, but wouldst deeply sympathise with
me! Take all these things into consideration, and the thousands of poor mortals
who are dragging out far more miserable lives than mine will be, even at ten years
in the Penitentiary, and thou wilt not look upon my fate with so much horror as
thou would at first thought.
In another letter he adds:--
have happy hours here, and I should not be miserable if I could only know
you were not sorrowing for me at home. It would give me more satisfaction to
hear that you were not grieving about me than anything else.
The nearer I live to the principle of the commandment, “Love thy neighbour
as thyself,” the more enjoyment I have of this life. None can know the enjoy-
ments that flow from feelings of good-will towards our fellow-beings, both friends
and enemies, but those who cultivate them. Even in my prison-cell I may be
happy, if I will. For the Christian's consolation cannot be shut out from him by
enemies or iron gates.
In another letter to the lady before alluded to he says:--
By what I am able to learn, I believe thy “Richard” has not fallen altogether
unlamented; and the satisfaction it gives me is sufficient to make my prison life
more pleasant and desirable than even a life of liberty without the esteem and re-
spect of my friends. But it gives bitterness to the cup of my afflictions to think
that my dear friends and relatives have to suffer such grief and sorrow for me.
* * * * *
Though persecution ever so severe be my lot, yet I will not allow my indignation
ever to ripen into revenge even against my bitterest enemies; for there will be a
time when all things must be revealed before Him who has said, “Vengeance is
mine, I will repay.” Yes, my heart shall ever glow with love for my poor fellow-
mortals, who are hastening rapidly on to their final destination--the awful tomb
and the solemn judgment.
Perhaps it will give thee some consolation for me to tell thee that I believe
there is a considerable sympathy existing in the minds of some of the better portion
of the citizens here, which may be of some benefit to me. But all that can be
done in my behalf will still leave my case a sad one. Think not, however, that it
is all loss to me, for by my calamity I have learned many good and useful lessons,
which I hope may yet prove both temporal and spiritual blessings to me.
“Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.”
Therefore, I hope thou and my dear distressed parents will be somewhat
comforted about me, for I know you regard my spiritual welfare far more than
anything else.
In his next letter to the same friend, he says:--
Since I wrote my last, I have had a severe moral conflict, in which, I believe,
the right conquered, and has completely gained the ascendancy. The matter was
this:--A man with whom I have become acquainted since my imprisonment
offered to bail me out and let me stay away from my trial, and pay the bail-bonds
for me, and was very anxious to do it. [Here h
e mentions that the funds held by
this individual had been placed in his hands by a person who obtained them by
dishonest means.] But having learned the above facts, which he in confidence
made known to me, I declined accepting his offer, giving him my reasons in full.
The matter rests with him, my attorneys, and myself. My attorneys do not know
who he is; but, with his permission, I in confidence informed them of the nature
of the case, after I came to a conclusion upon the subject, and had determined
not to accept the offer; which was approved by them. I also had an offer of iron
saws, and files, and other tools, by which I could break jail; but I refused them
also, as I do not wish to pursue any such underhanded course to extricate myself
from my present difficulties; for when I leave Tennessee--if ever I do--I am
determined to leave it a free man. Thou need not fear that I shall ever stoop to
dishonourable means to avoid my severe impending fate. When I meet thee
again, I want to meet thee with a clear conscience, and a character unspotted by
disgrace.
In another place he says, in view of his nearly approaching
trial:--
O dear parents! The principles of love for my fellow-beings which you have
instilled into my mind are some of the greatest consolations I have in my im-
prisonmen, and they give me resignation to bear whatever may be inflicted upon
me without feeling any malice or bitterness toward my vigilant prosecutors. If
they show me mercy, it will be accepted by me with gratitude; but if they do not,
I will endeavour to bear whatever they may inflict with Christian fortitude and
resignation, and try not to murmur at my lot; but it is hard to obey the com-
mandment, “Love your enemies.”
The day of his trial at length came.
His youth, his engaging manners, frank address, and invari-
able gentleness to all who approached him, had won many
friends, and the trial excited much interest.
His mother and her brother, Asa Williams, went a distance of 750 miles to
attend his trial. They carried with them a certificate of his character, drawn up
by Dr. Brisbane, and numerously signed by his friends and acquaintances, and
officially countersigned by civil officers. This was done at the suggestion of his