But the judge’s patriotic zeal against traitors did not confine itself to the enemies of the United States actively engaged in the Christiana campaign. Here, indeed, he went far beyond even the infamous Judge Kelynge. “It is not necessary,” so he told the grand jury, “to prove that the individual accused was a direct personal actor in the violence, nor is even his personal presence indispensable. Though he be absent at the actual perpetration, yet if he directed the act, devised, or knowingly furnished the means for carrying it into effect, or instigated others to perform it, he shared their guilt. In treason, there are no accessories.” From all this the grand jury were to understand that anti-slavery men, by their doctrines of human rights and their denunciations of the fugitive act, instigated fugitive slaves to defend themselves; hence, as, in treason, all are principals, however remotely and indirectly concerned, these abolition instigators had also levied war, were traitors, and might be legally hung. To strengthen this intended impression on the minds of the jury, the judge launched out into an invective against the abolitionists, concluding with the very significant and smart admonition, “While he (the abolitionist) remains within our borders he is to remember that successfully to instigate treason is to commit it.”
What is still more astonishing than even this charge, the grand jury, to whom it was delivered, showed themselves such ready receivers of its infamous and atrocious doctrines as to bring into court thirty bills for high treason, against as many different individuals, founded upon it.
Of these thirty indictments, the only one brought to trial was that against Caspar Hanway, above mentioned. The only acts proved against this man, in support of the charge of having “traitorously levied war against the United States,” were, 1. having declined to assist the marshal in arresting the fugitives; and 2. in calling to the negroes and urging them not to fire.
Judge Grier presided on the trial, and notwithstanding his vulgar invectives against the abolitionists, found himself compelled to charge the jury, even in the presence of Judge Kane, that “a number of fugitive slaves may infest a neighborhood, and may be encouraged by their neighbors in combining to resist with force and arms their master, or the public officer who may come to arrest them; they may murder or rob them; they are guilty of felony and liable to punishment, but not as traitors.” The prisoner was of course acquitted, and all the other indictments abandoned; and thus ended in shame and ridicule Judge Kane’s ingenious device for hanging all who resisted the fugitive slave law. Yet this same man, at a Kossuth meeting at Philadelphia, made a rampant filibustering speech in behalf of oppressed nations, quoting with exultation the words of Vattel, “When a people from good reasons take up arms against an oppressor, justice and generosity require that brave men should be assisted in the defence of their liberties.”—Ed.
[75] See ante, pp. 150, 151.
[76] And yet it is upon the authority of these worthless reports that some important American decisions have been based. See 13 Mass. Reports, 356, Commonwealth v. Bowen; also the preceding note.—Ed.
[77] For an account of Chiffinch, see the Life of Jeffrey, p. 278.
[78] Our recent American history presents a curious parallel to the English Popish plot delusion and the use made of it by the unscrupulous politicians of that age. The basis of that delusion was the well-founded horror which the English people entertained for the Popish religion as hostile to their liberties. The immediate allegation upon which it rested was, that the Papists had formed a conspiracy to assassinate Charles II., and so to open the way to the throne for the Duke of York, (afterwards James II.,) a professed Papist.
The suggestion of this plot, founded merely on vague suspicions,—(if indeed it was not, as some writers think, purposely started for political objects,)—was taken hold of by the unprincipled Shaftesbury, who from having been an ultra courtier, had become the leader of the country party. He sought to use it to stimulate the people against the court, and to prepare the way for his project of excluding the Duke of York from succession to the throne. He expected that the court would oppose this delusion, and so would make itself still more unpopular. But Charles II., no less unprincipled than Shaftesbury, was quite as ready as he to play at any dangerous game; and that he might gain credit for Protestantism, (though all the while secretly a Papist,) he resolved to humor the delusion to the utmost, and to allow it full play against its unfortunate victims.
So here in America, the democrats, (so called, but in fact slavery extenders,) taking advantage of the very strong and well-founded popular sentiment in favor of the Union, and seeking to recommend themselves to favor as a national party, hit upon the similar expedient of accusing the abolitionists of a plot to dissolve the Union, part of the odium of which they hoped to throw upon their political opponents, the so-called whigs, by accusing them as screeners and favorers of the abolitionists. The whigs, however, in imitation of the policy of Charles II., and under the leadership of the late Daniel Webster, sought to turn this pretended plot to their own advantage, by coming out still more furious Union-savers than even the democrats, and denouncing the abolitionists with still greater fury—thus working up the public mind into a terror at the imaginary danger of the Union, much like that of the English people at the time of the Popish plot. We, too, have had our trials for treason, (see ante, p. 158-161;) and if we have had no bloody executions, it has not been for want of Scroggses, both on and off the bench.—Ed.