It would be just as easy for the Judge to make out divers other crimes from my words, as to construct a misdemeanor therefrom. To charge me with "treason," he has only to vary a few words and phrases; to cite Chase, and not Judge Parker, and to refer to other passages of Kelyng's Reports. James II.'s judges declared it was treason in the seven Bishops to offer their petition to the King. Mr. Webster said, it is only the "clemency of the Government which indicted the Syracuse rescuers for misdemeanors and not for a capital crime!" How easy for a fugitive slave bill judge to hang men for a word against his brother kidnapper—if there were no jury; if, like the New York sheriff in 1735, he could order "his own negro" to do it! Here is a remarkable case of constructive crime, worthy of this Honorable Court. It is the famous case of Dux v. Conrade et Boracio. Honorable Judge Dogberry thus delivered his charge to the Grand Inquest, "Masters, I charge you accuse these men,"—one policeman testified that Conrade said "that Don John, the prince's Brother, was a villain." Judge Dogberry ruled, "This is flat perjury to call a prince's Brother, villain." The next member of the Marshal's guard deposed that Boracio had said, "That he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully." Chief Justice Dogberry decided, "Flat Burglary as ever was committed." Sentence accordingly.[207]
Gentlemen, the indictment is so roomy and vague, that before I came into court, I did not know what special acts of mine would be brought up against me—for to follow out the Judge's charge, all my life is a series of constructive misdemeanors. Nay, I think my mother—the violet has bloomed over that venerable and well-beloved head for more than thirty summers now—I think my mother might be indicted for constructive treason, only for bearing me, her youngest son. Certainly, it was "obstructing an officer," and in "misdemeanors all are principals." I have committed a great many misdemeanors; all my teachings evince an express liking for Piety, for Justice, for Liberty; all my life is obstructing, opposing, and resisting the fugitive slave bill Court, its Commissioners, its Judges, its Marshals and its Marshal's guard. Gentlemen of the jury, you are to judge me. Look at some of my actions and some of my words.
In 1850, on the 25th of March, a fortnight after Mr. Webster made his speech against Humanity, there was a meeting of the citizens of Boston, at Faneuil Hall; Gentlemen, I helped procure the meeting. First, I tried to induce the leading Whigs to assemble the people. No, that could not be done; "the Bill would not pass, there was no danger!" Then I tried the leading Free Soilers; "No, it was not quite time, and we are not strong enough." At last the old abolitionists came together. Mr. Phillips made a magnificent speech. Here are some things which I also said.
"There were three fugitives at my house the other night. Ellen Craft was one of them. You all know Ellen Craft is a slave; she, with her husband, fled from Georgia to Philadelphia, and is here before us now. She is not so dark as Mr. Webster himself, if any of you think freedom is to be dealt out in proportion to the whiteness of the skin. If Mason's bill passes, I might have some miserable postmaster from Texas or the District of Columbia, some purchased agent of Messrs. Bruin & Hill, the great slave-dealers of the Capital, have him here in Boston, take Ellen Craft before the caitiff, and on his decision hurry her off to bondage as cheerless, as hopeless, and as irremediable as the grave!
"Let me interest you in a scene which might happen. Suppose a poor fugitive, wrongfully held as a slave—let it be Ellen Craft—has escaped from Savannah in some northern ship. No one knows of her presence on board; she has lain with the cargo in the hold of the vessel. Harder things have happened. Men have journeyed hundreds of miles bent double in a box half the size of a coffin, journeying towards freedom. Suppose the ship comes up to Long Wharf, at the foot of State Street. Bulk is broken to remove the cargo; the woman escapes, emaciated with hunger, feeble from long confinement in a ship's hold, sick with the tossing of the heedless sea, and still further etiolated and blanched with the mingling emotions of hope and fear. She escapes to land. But her pursuer, more remorseless than the sea, has been here beforehand; laid his case before the official he has brought with him, or purchased here, and claims his slave. She runs for her life, fear adding wings. Imagine the scene—the flight, the hot pursuit through State Street, Merchants' Row—your magistrates in hot pursuit. To make the irony of nature still more complete, let us suppose this shall take place on some of the memorable days in the history of America—on the 19th of April, when our fathers first laid down their lives 'in the sacred cause of God and their country;' on the 17th of June, the 22d of December, or on any of the sacramental days in the long sad history of our struggle for our own freedom! Suppose the weary fugitive takes refuge in Faneuil Hall, and here, in the old Cradle of Liberty, in the midst of its associations, under the eye of Samuel Adams, the bloodhounds seize their prey! Imagine Mr. Webster and Mr. Winthrop looking on, cheering the slave-hunter, intercepting the fugitive fleeing for her life. Would not that be a pretty spectacle?
"Propose to support that bill to the fullest extent, with all its provisions! Ridiculous talk! Does Mr. Webster suppose that such a law could be executed in Boston? that the people of Massachusetts will ever return a single fugitive slave, under such an act as that? Then he knows his constituents very little, and proves that he needs 'Instruction.'
"Perpetuate Slavery, we cannot do it. Nothing will save it. It is girt about by a ring of fire which daily grows narrower, and sends terrible sparkles into the very centre of the shameful thing. 'Joint resolutions' cannot save it; annexations cannot save it—not if we reannex all the West Indies; delinquent representatives cannot save it; uninstructed senators, refusing instructions, cannot save it, no, not with all their logic, all their eloquence, which smites as an earthquake smites the sea. No, slavery cannot be saved; by no compromise, no non-intervention, no Mason's Bill in the Senate. It cannot be saved in this age of the world until you nullify every ordinance of nature, until you repeal the will of God, and dissolve the union He has made between righteousness and the welfare of a people. Then, when you displace God from the throne of the world, and instead of His eternal justice, reënact the will of the Devil, then you may keep Slavery; keep it for ever, keep it in peace. Not till then.
"The question is, not if slavery is to cease, and soon to cease, but shall it end as it ended in Massachusetts, in New Hampshire, in Pennsylvania, in New York; or shall it end as in St. Domingo? Follow the counsel of Mr. Webster—it will end in fire and blood. God forgive us for our cowardice, if we let it come to this, that three millions or thirty millions of degraded human beings, degraded by us, must wade through slaughter to their unalienable rights."[208]
Gentlemen, that speech was a "seditious libel" by construction!