Under these circumstances, the Pennsylvania Abolition Society was frequently called upon to protect the rights of colored people. Isaac T. Hopper became an active and leading member of this association. He was likewise one of the overseers of a school for colored children, established by Anthony Benezet; and it was his constant practice, for several years, to teach two or three nights every week, in a school for colored adults, established by a society of young men. In process of time, he became known to everybody in Philadelphia as the friend and legal adviser of colored people upon all emergencies. The shrewdness, courage, and zeal, with which he fulfilled this mission will be seen in the course of the following narratives, which I have selected from a vast number of similar character, in which he was the principal agent.
CHARLES WEBSTER.
In 1797, a wealthy gentleman from Virginia went to spend the winter in Philadelphia, accompanied by his wife and daughter. He had a slave named Charles Webster, whom he took with him as coachman and waiter. When they had been in the city a few weeks, Charles called upon Isaac T. Hopper, and inquired whether he had become free in consequence of his master's bringing him into Pennsylvania. It was explained to him, that if he remained there six months, with his master's knowledge and consent, he would then be a free man, according to the laws of Pennsylvania. The slave was quite disheartened by this information; for he supposed his owner was well acquainted with the law, and would therefore be careful to take him home before that term expired.
"I am resolved never to return to Virginia," said he. "Where can I go to be safe?"
Friend Hopper told him his master might be ignorant of the law, or forgetful of it. He advised him to remain with the family until he saw them making preparations to return. If the prescribed six months expired meanwhile, he would be a free man. If not, there would be time enough to consult what had better be done. "It is desirable to obtain thy liberty in a legal way, if possible," said he; "for otherwise thou wilt be constantly liable to be arrested, and may never again have such a good opportunity to escape from bondage."
Charles hesitated, but finally concluded to accept this prudent advice. The time seemed very long to the poor fellow; for he was in a continual panic lest his master should take him back to Virginia; but he did his appointed tasks faithfully, and none of the family suspected what was passing in his mind.
The long-counted six months expired at last; and that very day, his master said, "Charles, grease the carriage-wheels, and have all things in readiness; for I intend to start for home to-morrow."
The servant appeared to be well pleased with this prospect, and put the carriage and harness in good order. As soon as that job was completed, he went to Friend Hopper and told him the news. When assured that he was now a free man, according to law, he could hardly be made to believe it. He was all of a tremor with anxiety, and it seemed almost impossible to convince him that he was out of danger. He was instructed to return to his master till next morning, and to send word by one of the hotel servants in case he should be arrested meanwhile.
The next morning, he again called upon Friend Hopper, who accompanied him to the office of William Lewis, a highly respectable lawyer, who would never take any fee for his services on such occasions. When Mr. Lewis heard the particulars of the case, he wrote a polite note to the Virginian, informing him that his former slave was now free, according to the laws of Pennsylvania; and cautioning him against any attempt to take him away, contrary to his own inclination.
The lawyer advised Friend Hopper to call upon the master and have some preparatory conversation with him, before Charles was sent to deliver the note. He was then, only twenty-six years of age, and he felt somewhat embarrassed at the idea of calling upon a wealthy and distinguished stranger, who was said to be rather imperious and irritable. However, after a little reflection, he concluded it was his duty, and accordingly he did it.
When the Southerner was informed that his servant was free, and that a lawyer had been consulted on the subject, he was extremely angry, and used very contemptuous language concerning people who tampered with gentlemen's servants. The young Quaker replied, "If thy son were a slave in Algiers, thou wouldst thank me for tampering with him to procure his liberty. But in the present case, I am not obnoxious to the charge thou hast brought; for thy servant came of his own accord to consult me, I merely made him acquainted with his legal rights; and I intend to see that he is protected in them."
When Charles delivered the lawyers note, and his master saw that he no longer had any legal power over him, he proposed to hire him to drive the carriage home. But Charles was very well aware that Virginia would be a very dangerous place for him, and he positively refused. The incensed Southerner then claimed his servant's clothes as his property, and ordered him to strip instantly. Charles did as he was ordered, and proceeded to walk out of the room naked. Astonished to find him willing to leave the house in that condition, he seized him violently, thrust him back into the room, and ordered him to dress himself. When he had assumed his garments, he walked off; and the master and servant never met again.
Charles was shrewd and intelligent, and conducted himself in such a manner as to gain respect. He married an industrious, economical woman, who served in the family of Chief Justice Tilghman. In process of time, he built a neat two-story house, where they brought up reputably a family of fourteen children, who obtained quite a good education at the school established by Anthony Benezet.
BEN JACKSON.
Ben was born a slave in Virginia. When he was about sixteen years old, his mind became excited on the subject of slavery. He could not reconcile it with the justice and goodness of the Creator, that one man should be born to toil for another without wages, to be driven about, and treated like a beast of the field. The older he grew, the more heavily did these considerations press upon him. At last, when he was about twenty-five years old, he resolved to gain his liberty, if possible. He left his master, and after encountering many difficulties, arrived in Philadelphia, where he let himself on board a vessel and went several voyages. When he was thirty years of age, he married, and was employed as a coachman by Dr. Benjamin Rush, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He lived with him two years; and when he left, Dr. Rush gave him a paper certifying that he was a free man, honest, sober, and capable.
In 1799, his master came to Philadelphia, and arrested him as his fugitive slave. Ben had an extraordinary degree of intelligence and tact. When his master brought him before a magistrate, and demanded the usual certificate to authorize him to take his human chattel back to Virginia, Ben neither admitted nor denied that he was a slave. He merely showed the certificate of Dr. Rush, and requested that Isaac T. Hopper might be informed of his situation. Joseph Bird, the justice before whom the case was brought, detested slavery, and was a sincere friend to the colored people. He committed Ben to prison until morning, and despatched a note to Isaac T. Hopper informing him of the circumstance, and requesting him to call upon Dr. Rush. When the doctor was questioned, he said he knew nothing about Ben's early history; he lived with him two years, and was then a free man.
When Friend Hopper went to the prison, he found Ben in a state of great anxiety and distress. He admitted that he was the slave of the man who claimed him, and that he saw no way of escape open for him. His friend told him not to be discouraged, and promised to exert himself to the utmost in his behalf. The constable who had arrested him, sympathized with the poor victim of oppression, and promised to do what he could for him. Finding him in such a humane mood, Friend Hopper urged him to bring Ben to the magistrate's office a short time before the hour appointed for the trial. He did so, and found Friend Hopper already there, watching the clock. The moment the hand pointed to nine, he remarked that the hour, of which the claimant had been apprized, had already arrived; no evidence had been brought that the man was a slave; on the contrary, Dr. Rush's certificate was strong presumptive evidence of his being a freeman; he therefore demanded that the prisoner should be discharged. Justice Bird, having no desire to throw obstacles in the way, promptly told Ben he was at liberty, and he lost no time in profiting by the information. Just as he passed out of the door, he saw his master coming, and ran full speed. He had sufficient presence of mind to take a zigzag course, and running through a house occupied by colored people, he succeeded in eluding pursuit.
When Friend Hopper went home, he found him at his house. He tried to impress upon his mind the peril he would incur by remaining in Philadelphia, and advised him by all means to go to sea. But his wife was strongly attached to him, and so unwilling to consent to this plan, that he concluded to run the risk of staying with her. He remained concealed about a week, and then returned to the house he had previously occupied. They lived in the second story, and there was a shed under their bed-room window. Ben placed a ladder under the window, to be ready for escape; but it was so short, that it did not reach the roof of the shed by five or six feet. His wife was an industrious, orderly woman, and kept their rooms as neat as a bee-hive. The only thing which marred their happiness was the continual dread that man-hunters might pounce upon them, in some unguarded hour, and separate them forever. About a fortnight after his arrest, they were sitting together in the dusk of the evening, when the door was suddenly burst open, and his master rushed in with a constable. Ben sprang out of the window, down the ladder, and made his escape. His master and the constable followed; but as soon as they were on the ladder, Ben's wife cut the cord that held it, and they tumbled heels over head upon the shed. This bruised them some, and frightened them still more. They scrambled upon their feet, cursing at a round rate.
Ben arrived safely at the house of Isaac T. Hopper, who induced him to quit the city immediately, and go to sea. His first voyage was to the East Indies. While he was gone, Friend Hopper negotiated with the master, who, finding there was little chance of regaining his slave, agreed to manumit him for one hundred and fifty dollars. As soon as Ben returned, he repaid from his wages the sum which had been advanced for his ransom. His wife's health was greatly impaired by the fear and anxiety she had endured on his account. She became a prey to melancholy, and never recovered her former cheerfulness.
THOMAS COOPER.
The person who assumed this name was called Notly, when he was a slave in Maryland. He was compelled to labor very hard, was scantily supplied with food and clothing, and lodged in a little ricketty hut, through which the cold winds of winter whistled freely. He was of a very religious turn of mind, and often, when alone in his little cabin at midnight, he prayed earnestly to God to release him from his sufferings.
In the year 1800, he found a favorable opportunity to escape from his unfeeling master, and made his way to Philadelphia, where he procured employment in a lumber-yard, under the name of John Smith. He was so diligent and faithful, that he soon gained the good-will and confidence of his employers. He married a worthy, industrious woman, with whom he lived happily. By their united earnings they were enabled to purchase a small house, where they enjoyed more comfort than many wealthy people, and were much respected by neighbors and acquaintances.
Unfortunately, he confided his story to a colored man, who, for the sake of reward, informed his master where he was to be found. Accordingly, he came to Philadelphia, arrested him, and carried him before a magistrate. Having brought forward satisfactory evidence that he was a slave, an order was granted to carry him back to Maryland. Isaac T. Hopper was present at this decision, and was afflicted by it beyond measure. John's employers pitied his condition, and sympathized with his afflicted wife and children. They offered to pay a large sum for his ransom; but his savage master refused to release him on any terms. This sober, industrious man, guiltless of any crime, was hand-cuffed and had his arms tied behind him with a rope, to which another rope was appended, for his master to hold. While they were fastening his fetters, he spoke a few affectionate words to his weeping wife. "Take good care of the children," said he; "and don't let them forget their poor father. If you are industrious and frugal, I hope you will be enabled to keep them at school, till they are old enough to be placed at service in respectable families. Never allow them to be idle; for that will lead them into bad ways. And now don't forget my advice; for it is most likely you will never see me again."
Then addressing his children, he said, "You will have no father to take care of you now. Mind what your mother tells you, and be very careful not to do anything to grieve her. Be industrious and faithful in whatever you are set about; and never play in the streets with naughty children."
They all wept bitterly while he thus talked to them; but he restrained his sobs, though it was evident his heart was well nigh breaking. Isaac T. Hopper was present at this distressing scene, and suffered almost as acutely as the poor slave himself. In the midst of his parting words, his master seized the rope, mounted his horse, snapped his whip, and set off, driving poor John before him. This was done in a Christian country, and there was no law to protect the victim.
John was conveyed to Washington and offered for sale to speculators, who were buying up gangs for the Southern market. The sight of dejected and brutified slaves, chained together in coffles, was too common at the seat of our republican government to attract attention; but the barbarity of John's master was so conspicuous, that even there he was rebuked for his excessive cruelty. These expressions of sympathy were quite unexpected to the poor slave, and they kindled a faint hope of escape, which had been smouldering in his breast. Manacled as he was, he contrived to trip up his master, and leaving him prostrate on the ground, he ran for the woods. He was soon beyond the reach of his tyrant, and might have escaped easily if a company had not immediately formed to pursue him. They chased him from the shelter of the bushes to a swamp, where he was hunted like a fox, till night with friendly darkness overshadowed him. While his enemies were sleeping, he cautiously made his way by the light of the stars, to the house of an old acquaintance, who hastened to take off his fetters, and give him a good supper.
Thus refreshed, he hastened to bid his colored friend farewell, and with fear and trembling set off for Philadelphia. He had several rivers to cross, and he thought likely men would be stationed on the bridges to arrest him. Therefore, he hid himself in the deepest recesses of the woods in the day-time, and travelled only in the night. He suffered much with hunger and fatigue, but arrived home at last, to the great astonishment and joy of his family. He well knew that these precious moments of affectionate greeting were highly dangerous; for his own roof could afford no shelter from pursuers armed with the power of a wicked law. He accordingly hastened to Isaac T. Hopper for advice and assistance.
The yellow fever was then raging in Philadelphia, and the children had all been carried into the country by their mother. Business made it necessary for Friend Hopper to be in the city during the day-time, and a colored domestic remained with him to take charge of the house. This woman was alone when the fugitive arrived; but she showed him to an upper chamber secured by a strong fastening. He had been there but a short time, when his master came with two constables and proceeded to search the house. When they found a room with the door bolted, they demanded entrance; and receiving no answer, they began to consult together how to gain admittance. At this crisis, the master of the house came home, and received information of what was going on up-stairs. He hastened thither, and ordered the intruders to quit his house instantly. One of the constables said, "This gentleman's slave is here; and if you don't deliver him up immediately, we will get a warrant to search the house."
"Quit my premises," replied Friend Hopper. "The mayor dare not grant a warrant to search my house."
The men withdrew in no very good humor, and a message soon came from the mayor requesting to see Isaac T. Hopper. He obeyed the summons, and the magistrate said to him, "This gentleman informs me that his slave is in your house. Is it so?"
The wary Friend replied, "Thou hast just told me that this man says he is. Dost thou not believe him?"
"But I wish to know from yourself whether he is in your house or not," rejoined the magistrate.
"If the mayor reflects a little, I think he will see that he has no right to ask such a question; and that I am not bound to answer it," replied Friend Hopper. "If he is in my house, and if this man can prove it, I am liable to a heavy penalty; and no man is bound to inform against himself. These people have not behaved so civilly, that I feel myself under any especial obligations of courtesy toward them. Hast thou any further business with me?"
"Did you say I dared not grant a warrant to search your house?" asked the mayor.
He answered, "Indeed I did say so; and I now repeat it. I mean no disrespect to anybody in authority; but neither thou nor any other magistrate would dare to grant a warrant to search my house. I am a man of established reputation. I am not a suspicious character."
The mayor smiled, as he replied, "I don't know about that, Mr. Hopper. In the present case, I am inclined to think you are a very suspicious character." And so they parted.
The master resorted to various stratagems to recapture his victim. He dressed himself in Quaker costume and went to his house. The once happy home was desolate now; and the anxious wife sat weeping, with her little ones clinging to her in childish sympathy. The visitor professed to be very friendly to her husband, and desirous to ascertain where he could be found, in order to render him advice and assistance in eluding the vigilance of his master. The wife prudently declined giving any information, but referred him to Isaac T. Hopper, as the most suitable person to consult in the case. Finding that he could not gain his object by deception, he forgot to sustain the quiet character he had assumed, but gave vent to his anger in a great deal of violent and profane language. He went off, finally, swearing that in spite of them all he would have his slave again, if he was to be found on the face of the earth.
John Smith remained under the protection of Friend Isaac about a week. Spies were seen lurking round the house for several days; but they disappeared at last. Supposing this was only a trick to put them off their guard, a colored man was employed to run out of the house after dark. The enemies who were lying in ambush, rushed out and laid violent hands upon him. They released him as soon as they discovered their mistake; but the next day Friend Hopper had them arrested, and compelled them to enter into bonds for their good behavior. On the following evening the same man was employed to run out again; and this time he was not interrupted. The third evening, John Smith himself ventured forth from his hiding-place, and arrived safely in New-Jersey.
He let himself to a worthy farmer, and soon gained the confidence and good will of all the family. He ate at the same table with them, and sat with them on Sunday afternoons, listening to their reading of the Scriptures and other religious books. This system of equality did not diminish the modesty of his deportment, but rather tended to increase his habitual humility.
He remained there several months, during which time he never dared to visit his family, though only eight miles distant from them. This was a great source of unhappiness; for he was naturally affectionate, and was strongly attached to his wife and children. At length, he ventured to hire a small house in a very secluded situation, not far from the village of Haddonfield: and once more he gathered his family around him. But his domestic comfort was constantly disturbed by fear of men-stealers. While at his work in the day-time, he sometimes started at the mere rustling of a leaf; and in the night time, he often woke up in agony from terrifying dreams.
The false friend, who betrayed him to his cruel master, likewise suffered greatly from fear. When he heard that John had again escaped, he was exceedingly alarmed for his own safety. He dreamed that his abused friend came with a knife in one hand and a torch in the other, threatening to murder him and burn the house. These ideas took such hold of his imagination, that he often started up in bed and screamed aloud. But John was too sincerely religious to cherish a revengeful spirit. The wrong done to him was as great as one mortal could inflict upon another; but he had learned the divine precept not to render evil for evil.
The event proved that John's uneasiness was too well founded. A few months after his family rejoined him, Isaac T. Hopper heard that his master had arrived in Philadelphia, and was going to New-Jersey to arrest him. He immediately apprised him of his danger; and the tidings were received with feelings of desperation amounting to phrensy. He loaded his gun and determined to defend himself. Very early the next morning, he saw his master with two men coming up the narrow lane that led to his house. He stationed himself in the door-way, leveled his gun, and called out, "I will shoot the first man that crosses that fence!" They were alarmed, and turned back to procure assistance. John seized that opportunity to quit his retreat. He hastened to Philadelphia, and informed Isaac T. Hopper what had happened. His friend represented to him the unchristian character of such violent measures, and advised him not to bring remorse on his soul by the shedding of blood. The poor hunted fugitive seemed to be convinced, though it was a hard lesson to learn in his circumstances. Again he resolved to fly for safety; and his friend advised him to go to Boston. A vessel from that place was then lying in the Delaware, and the merchant who had charge of her, pitying his forlorn situation, offered him a passage free of expense. Kindness bestowed on him was always like good seed dropped into a rich soil. He was so obliging and diligent during the voyage, that he more than compensated the captain for his passage. He arrived safely in Boston, where his certificates of good character soon enabled him to procure employment. Not long after, he sent for his wife, who sold what little property they had in Philadelphia, and took her children to their new home.
When John left New-Jersey, he assumed the name of Thomas Cooper, by which he was ever afterward known. He had early in life manifested a religious turn of mind; and this was probably increased by his continual perils and narrow escapes. He mourned over every indication of dishonesty, profanity, or dissipation, among people of his own color; and this feeling grew upon him, until he felt as if it were a duty to devote his life to missionary labors. He became a popular preacher among the Methodists, and visited some of the West India Islands in that capacity. His Christian example and fervid exhortations, warm from the heart, are said to have produced a powerful effect on his untutored hearers. After his return, he concluded to go to Africa as a missionary. For that purpose, he took shipping with his family for London, where he was received with much kindness by many persons to whom he took letters of introduction. His children were placed at a good school by a benevolent member of the Society of Friends; and from various quarters he received the most gratifying testimonials of respect and sympathy. But what was of more value than all else to the poor harassed fugitive, was the fact that he now, for the first time in his life, felt entirely safe from the fangs of the oppressor.
He remained in London about a year and a half. During that time he compiled a hymn book which his friends published with his portrait in front. He preached with great acceptance to large congregations: several thousand persons assembled to hear his farewell sermon on the eve of his departure for Africa. He sailed for Sierra Leone, in the latter part of 1818, and was greeted there with much cordiality; for his fame had preceded him. All classes flocked to hear him preach, and his labors were highly useful. After several years spent in the discharge of religious duties, he died of the fever which so often proves fatal to strangers in Africa. His wife returned with her children to end her days in Philadelphia.
A CHILD KIDNAPPED.
In the year 1801, a Captain Dana engaged passage in a Philadelphia schooner bound to Charleston, South Carolina. The day he expected to sail, he called at the house of a colored woman, and told her he had a good suit of clothes, too small for his own son, but about the right size for her little boy. He proposed to take the child home to try the garments, and if they fitted him he would make him a present of them. The mother was much gratified by these friendly professions, and dressed the boy up as well as she could to accompany the captain, who gave him a piece of gingerbread, took him by the hand, and led him away. Instead of going to his lodgings, as he had promised, he proceeded directly to the schooner, and left the boy in care of the captain: saying that he himself would come on board while the vessel was on the way down the river. As they were about to sail, a sudden storm came on. The wind raged so violently, that the ship dragged her anchor, and they were obliged to haul to at a wharf in the district of Southwark. A respectable man, who lived in the neighborhood, was standing on the wharf at the time, and hearing a child crying very bitterly on board the vessel, he asked the colored cook whose child that was, and why he was in such distress. He replied that a passenger by the name of Dana brought him on board, and that the boy said he stole him from his mother.
A note was immediately despatched to Isaac T. Hopper, who, being away from home, did not receive it till ten o'clock at night. The moment he read it, he called for a constable, and proceeded directly to the schooner. In answer to his inquiries, the captain declared that all the hands had gone on shore, and that he was entirely alone in the vessel. Friend Hopper called for a light, and asked him to open the forecastle, that they might ascertain whether any person were there. He peremptorily refused; saying that his word ought to be sufficient to satisfy them. Friend Hopper took up an axe that was lying on the deck, and declared that he would break the door, unless it was opened immediately. In this dilemma, the captain, with great reluctance, unlocked the forecastle; and there they found the cook and the boy. The constable took them all in custody, and they proceeded to the mayor's. The rain fell in torrents, and it was extremely dark; for in those days, there were no lamps in that part of the city. They went stumbling over cellar doors, and wading through gutters, till they arrived in Front street, where Mr. Inskeep, the mayor, lived. It was past midnight, but when a servant informed him that Isaac T. Hopper had been ringing at the door, and wished to see him, he ordered him to be shown up into his chamber. After apologizing for the unseasonableness of the hour, he briefly stated the urgency of the case, and asked for a verbal order to put the captain and cook in prison to await their trial the next morning. The magistrate replied, "It is a matter of too much importance to be disposed of in that way. I will come down and hear the case." A large hickory log, which had been covered with ashes in the parlor fire-place, was raked open, and they soon had a blazing fire to dry their wet garments, and take off the chill of a cold March storm. The magistrate was surprised to find that the captain was an old acquaintance; and he expressed much regret at meeting him under such unpleasant circumstances. After some investigation into the affair, he was required to appear for trial the next morning, under penalty of forfeiting three thousand dollars. The cook was committed to prison, as a witness; and the colored boy was sent home with Isaac T. Hopper, who agreed to produce him at the time appointed.
Very early the next morning, he sent a messenger to inform the mother that her child was in safety; but she was off in search of him, and was not to be found. On the way to the mayor's office, they met her in the street, half distracted. As soon as she perceived her child, she cried out, "My son! My son!" threw her arms round him, and sobbed aloud. She kissed him again and again, saying, "Oh my child, I thought I had lost you forever."
When they all arrived at the mayor's office, at the hour appointed for trial, the captain protested that he had no knowledge of anything wrong in the business, having merely taken care of the boy at the request of a passenger. When he was required to appear at the next court to answer to the charge of kidnapping, he became alarmed, and told where Captain Dana could be arrested. His directions were followed, and the delinquent was seized and taken to Isaac T. Hopper's house. He was in a towering passion, protesting his innocence, and threatening vengeance against everybody who should attempt to detain him. Badly as Friend Hopper thought of the man, he almost wished he had escaped, when he discovered that he had a wife and children to suffer for his misdoings. His tender heart would not allow him to be present at the trial, lest his wife should be there in distress. She did not appear, however, and Captain Dana made a full confession, alleging poverty as an excuse. He was an educated man, and had previously sustained a fair reputation. He was liberated on bail for fifteen hundred dollars, which was forfeited; but the judgments were never enforced against his securities.
WAGELMA.
Wagelma was a lively intelligent colored boy of ten years old, whom his mother had bound as an apprentice to a Frenchman in Philadelphia. This man being about to take his family to Baltimore, in the summer of 1801, with the intention of going thence to France, put his apprentice on board a Newcastle packet bound to Baltimore, without having the consent of the boy or his mother, as the laws of Pennsylvania required. The mother did not even know of his intended departure, till she heard that her child was on board the ship. Fears that he might be sold into slavery, either in Baltimore or the West Indies, seized upon her mind; and even if that dreadful fate did not await him, there was great probability that she would never see him again.
In her distress she called upon Isaac T. Hopper, immediately after sunrise. He hastened to the wharf, where the Newcastle packet generally lay, but had the mortification to find that she had already started, and that a gentle breeze was wafting her down the stream. He mounted a fleet horse, and in twenty minutes arrived at Gloucester Point, three miles below the city. The ferry at that place was kept by a highly respectable widow, with whom he had been long acquainted. He briefly stated the case to her, and she at once ordered one of her ferrymen to put him on board the Newcastle packet, which was in sight, and near the Jersey shore. They made all speed, for there was not a moment to lose.
When they came along-side the packet, the captain, supposing him to be a passenger for Baltimore, ordered the sailors to assist him on board. When his business was made known, he was told that the Frenchman was in the cabin. He sought him out, and stated that the laws of Pennsylvania did not allow apprentices to be carried out of the state without certain preliminaries, to which he had not attended. The Frenchman had six or eight friends with him, and as he was going out of the country, he put the laws at defiance. Meanwhile, the vessel was gliding down the river, carrying friend Hopper to Newcastle. He summoned the captain, and requested him to put the colored boy into the ferry-boat, which was alongside ready to receive him. He was not disposed to interfere; but when Friend Hopper drew a volume from his pocket and read to him the laws applicable to the case, he became alarmed, and said the boy must be given up. Whereupon, Friend Hopper directed the child to go on deck, which he was ready enough to do; and the ferryman soon helped him on board the boat.
The Frenchman and his friends were very noisy and violent. They attempted to throw Friend Hopper overboard; and there were so many of them, that they seemed likely to succeed in their efforts. But he seized one of them fast by the coat; resolved to have company in the water, if he were compelled to take a plunge. They struck his hand with their canes, and pulled the coat from his grasp. Then he seized hold of another; and so the struggle continued for some minutes. The ferryman, who was watching the conflict, contrived to bring his boat into a favorable position; and Friend Hopper suddenly let go the Frenchman's coat, and tumbled in.
When he returned to Philadelphia with the boy, he found the mother waiting at his house, in a state of intense anxiety. The meeting between mother and son was joyful indeed; and Wagelma made them all laugh by his animated description of his friend's encounter with the Frenchmen, accompanied by a lively imitation of their gesticulations. In witnessing the happiness he had imparted, their benefactor found more than sufficient compensation for all the difficulties he had encountered.
JAMES POOVEY.
Slavery having been abolished by a gradual process in Pennsylvania, there were many individuals who still remained in bondage at the period of which I write. Among them was James Poovey, slave to a blacksmith in Pennsylvania. He had learned his master's trade, and being an athletic man, was very valuable. During several winters, he attended an evening school for the free instruction of colored people. He made very slow progress in learning, but by means of unremitting industry and application, he was at last able to accomplish the desire of his heart, which was to read the New Testament for himself.
The fact that colored men born a few years later than himself were free, by the act of gradual emancipation, while he was compelled to remain in bondage, had long been a source of uneasiness; and increase of knowledge by no means increased his contentment. Having come to the conclusion that slavery was utterly unjust, he resolved not to submit to it any longer. In the year 1802, when he was about thirty-three years of age, he took occasion to inform his master that he could read the New Testament. When he observed that he was glad to hear it, James replied, "But in the course of my reading I have discovered that it would be a sin for me to serve you as a slave any longer".
"Aye?" said his master. "Pray tell me how you made that discovery."
"Why, the New Testament says we must do as we would be done by," replied James. "Now if I submit to let you do by me, as you would not be willing I should do by you, I am as bad as you are. If you will give me a paper that will secure my freedom at the end of seven years, I will serve you faithfully during that time; but I cannot consent to be a slave any longer."
His master refused to consent to this proposition. James then asked permission to go to sea till he could earn money enough to buy his freedom; but this proposal was likewise promptly rejected.
"You will get nothing by trying to keep me in slavery," said James; "for
I am determined to be free. I shall never make you another offer."
He walked off, and his master applied for a warrant to arrest him, and commit him to prison, as a disobedient and refractory slave. When he had been in jail a month, he called to see him, and inquired whether he were ready to return home and go to work.
"I am at home," replied James. "I expect to end my days here. I never will serve you again as a slave, or pay you one single cent. What do you come here for? There is no use in your coming."
The master was greatly provoked by this conduct, and requested the inspectors to have him put in the cells and kept on short allowance, till he learned to submit. Isaac T. Hopper was one of the board; and as the question was concerning a colored man, they referred it to him. Accordingly, the blacksmith sought an interview with him, and said, "Jim has been a faithful industrious fellow; but of late he has taken it into his head that he ought to be free. He strolled off and refused to work, and I had him put in prison. When I called to see him he insulted me grossly, and positively refused to return to his business. I have been referred to you to obtain an order to confine him to the cells on short allowance, till he submits."
Friend Hopper replied, "I have been long acquainted with Jim. I was one of his teachers; and I have often admired his punctuality in attending school, and his patient industry in trying to learn."
"It has done him no good to learn to read," rejoined the master. "On the contrary, it has made him worse."
"It has made him wiser," replied Isaac; "but I think it has not made him worse. I have scruples about ordering him to be punished; for he professes to be conscientious about submitting to serve as a slave. I have myself suffered because I could not conscientiously comply with military requisitions. The Society of Friends have suffered much in England on account of ecclesiastical demands. I have thus some cause to know how hateful are persecutors, in the sight of God and of men. I cannot therefore be active in persecuting James, or any other man, on account of conscientious scruples."
"It is your duty to have him punished," rejoined the blacksmith.
"I am the best judge of that," answered Friend Hopper; "and I do not feel justified in compelling him to submit to slavery."
The blacksmith was greatly exasperated, and went off, saying, "I hope to mercy your daughter will marry a negro."
At the expiration of the term of imprisonment allowed by law, James still refused to return to service, and he was committed for another thirty days. His master called to see him again, and told him if he would return home, and behave well, he should have a new suit of clothes and a Methodist hat. "I don't want your new clothes, nor your Methodist hat," replied James. "I tell you I never will serve you nor any other man as a slave. I had rather end my days in jail."
His master finding him so intractable, gave up the case as hopeless. When his second term of imprisonment expired, he was discharged, and no one attempted to molest him. He earned a comfortable living, and looked happy and respectable; but his personal appearance was not improved by leaving his beard unshaved. One day, when Friend Hopper met him in the street, he said, "Jim, why dost thou wear that long beard? It looks very ugly."
"I suppose it does," he replied, "but I wear it as a memorial of the
Lord's goodness in setting me free; for it was Him that done it."
ROMAINE.
A Frenchman by the name of Anthony Salignac removed from St. Domingo to New-Jersey, and brought with him several slaves; among whom was Romaine. After remaining in New-Jersey several years, he concluded in 1802, to send Romaine and his wife and child back to the West Indies. Finding him extremely reluctant to go, he put them in prison some days previous, lest they should make an attempt to escape. From prison they were put into a carriage to be conveyed to Newcastle, under the custody of a Frenchman and a constable. They started from Trenton late in the evening, and arrived in Philadelphia about four o'clock in the morning. People at the inn where they stopped remarked that Romaine and his wife appeared deeply dejected. When food was offered they refused to eat. His wife made some excuse to go out, and though sought for immediately after, she was not to be found. Romaine was ordered to get into the carriage. The Frenchman was on one side of him and the constable on the other. "Must I go?" cried he, in accents of despair. They told him he must. "And alone?" said he. "Yes, you must," was the stern reply. The carriage was open to receive him, and they would have pushed him in, but he suddenly took a pruning knife from his pocket, and drew it three times across his throat with such force that it severed the jugular vein instantly, and he fell dead on the pavement.
As the party had travelled all night, seemed in great haste, and watched their colored companions so closely some persons belonging to the prison where they stopped suspected they might have nefarious business on hand; accordingly, a message was sent to Isaac T. Hopper, as the man most likely to right all the wrongs of the oppressed. He obeyed the summons immediately; but when he arrived, he found the body of poor Romaine weltering in blood on the pavement.
Speaking of this scene forty years later, he said, "My whole soul was filled with horror, as I stood viewing the corpse. Reflecting on that awful spectacle, I exclaimed within myself, How long, O Lord, how long shall this abominable system of slavery be permitted to curse the land! My mind was introduced into sympathy with the sufferer. I thought of the agony he must have endured before he could have resolved upon that desperate deed. He knew what he had to expect, from what he had experienced in the West Indies before, and he was determined not to submit to the same misery and degradation again. By his sufferings he was driven to desperation; and he preferred launching into the unknown regions of eternity to an endurance of slavery."
An inquest was summoned, and after a brief consultation, the coroner brought in the following verdict: "Suicide occasioned by the dread of slavery, to which the deceased knew himself devoted."
Romaine and his wife were very good looking. They gave indications of considerable intelligence, and had the character of having been very faithful servants. His violent death produced a good deal of excitement among the people generally, and much sympathy was manifested for the wife and child, who had escaped.
The master had procured a certificate from the mayor of Trenton authorizing him to remove his slaves to the West Indies; but the jury of inquest, and many others, were of opinion that his proceedings were not fully sanctioned by law. Accordingly, Friend Hopper, and two other members of the Abolition Society, caused him to be arrested and brought before a magistrate; not so much with the view of punishing him, as with the hope of procuring manumission for the wife and child. In the course of the investigation, the friends of the Frenchman were somewhat violent in his defence. Upon one occasion, several of them took Friend Hopper up and put him out of the house by main force; while at the same time they let their friend out of a back door to avoid him. However, Friend Hopper met him a few minutes after in the street and seized him by the button. Alarmed by the popular excitement, and by the perseverance with which he was followed up, he exclaimed in agitated tones, "Mon Dieu! What is it you do want? I will do anything you do want."
"I want thee to bestow freedom on that unfortunate woman and her child," replied Friend Hopper.
He promised that he would do so; and he soon after made out papers to that effect, which were duly recorded.
THE SLAVE HUNTER.
In July, 1802, a man by the name of David Lea, went to Philadelphia to hunt up runaway slaves for their Southern masters. A few days after his arrival, he arrested a colored man, whom he claimed as the property of Nathan Peacock of Maryland. The man had lived several years in Philadelphia, had taken a lot of ground in the Northern Liberties, and erected a small house on it.
In the course of the investigation, the poor fellow, seeing no chance of escape, acknowledged that he was Mr. Peacock's slave, and had run away from him because he wanted to be free. His friends, being unwilling to see him torn from his wife and children, made an effort to purchase his freedom. After much intreaty, the master named a very large sum as his ransom; and the slave was committed to prison until the affair was settled.
David Lea was a filthy looking man, apparently addicted to intemperance. Friend Hopper asked him if he had any business in Philadelphia. He answered, "No." He inquired whether he had any money, and he answered, "No." Friend Hopper then said to the magistrate, "Here is a stranger without money, who admits that he has no regular means of obtaining a livelihood. Judging from his appearance, there is reason to conclude that he may be a dangerous man. I would suggest whether it be proper that he should be permitted to go at large."
The magistrate interrogated the suspicious looking stranger concerning his business in Philadelphia; and he, being ashamed to acknowledge himself a slave-catcher, returned very evasive and unsatisfactory answers. He was accordingly committed to prison, to answer at the next court of Sessions. It was customary to examine prisoners before they were locked up, and take whatever was in their pockets, to be restored to them whenever they were discharged. David Lea strongly objected to this proceeding; and when they searched him they found more than fifty advertisements for runaway slaves; a fact which made the nature of his business sufficiently obvious. Friend Hopper, had a serious conversation with him in prison, during which he stated that he was to have received forty-five dollars for restoring the slave to his master. Friend Hopper told him if he would give an order upon Mr. Peacock for that amount, to go toward buying the slave's freedom, he should be released from confinement, on condition of leaving the city forthwith. He agreed to do so, and the money was paid. But the slave was found to be in debt more than his small house was worth, and the price for his ransom was so exorbitantly high, that it was impossible to raise it. Under these circumstances, Friend Hopper thought it right to return the forty-five dollars to David Lea; but he declined receiving it. He would take only three dollars, to defray his expenses home; and gave the following written document concerning the remainder: "I request Isaac T. Hopper to pay the money received from the order, which I gave him upon Nathan Peacock, to the managers of the Pennsylvania Hospital, or to any other charitable institution he may judge proper."
His
DAVID x LEA.
Mark.
He was discharged from prison, and the money paid to the Pennsylvania Hospital. Next year, the following item was published in their accounts: "Received of David Lea, a noted negro-catcher, by the hands of Isaac T. Hopper, forty-two dollars; he having received forty-five dollars for taking up a runaway slave, of which he afterward repented, and directed the sum to be paid to the Pennsylvania Hospital, after deducting three dollars to pay his expenses home."
The slave was carried back to the South, but escaped again. After encountering many difficulties, he was at last bought for a sum so small, that it was merely nominal; and he afterward lived in Philadelphia unmolested.
WILLIAM BACHELOR.
It was a common thing for speculators in slaves to purchase runaways for much less than their original value, and take the risk of not being able to catch them. In the language of the trade, this was called buying them running. In April, 1802, Joseph Ennells and Captain Frazer, of Maryland, dealers in slaves, purchased a number in this way, and came to Philadelphia in search of them. There they arrested, and claimed as their property, William Bachelor, a free colored man, about sixty years old. A colored man, whom the slave-dealers brought with them, swore before a magistrate that William Bachelor once belonged to a gang of slaves, of which he was overseer; that he had changed his name, but he knew him perfectly well. William affirmed in the most earnest manner, that he was a free man; but Mr. Ennells and Captain Frazer appeared to be such respectable men, and the colored witness swore so positively, that the magistrate granted a certificate authorizing them to take him to Maryland.
As they left the office, they were met by Dr. Kinley, who knew William Bachelor well, and had a great regard for him. Finding that his protestations had no effect with the Marylanders, he ran with all speed to Isaac T. Hopper, and entering his door almost out of breath, exclaimed, "They've got old William Bachelor, and are taking him to the South, as a slave. I know him to be a free man. Many years ago, he was a slave to my father, and he manumitted him. He used to carry me in his arms when I was an infant. He was a most faithful servant."
Friend Hopper inquired which way the party had gone, and was informed that they went toward "Gray's Ferry." He immediately started in pursuit, and overtook them half a mile from the Schuylkill. He accosted Mr. Ennells politely, and told him he had made a mistake in capturing William Bachelor; for he was a free man. Ennells drew a pistol from his pocket, and said, "We have had him before a magistrate, and proved to his satisfaction that the fellow is my slave. I have got his certificate, and that is all that is required to authorize me to take him home. I will blow your brains out if you say another word on the subject, or make any attempt to molest me."
"If thou wert not a coward, thou wouldst not try to intimidate me with a pistol," replied Isaac. "I do not believe thou hast the least intention of using it in any other way; but thou art much agitated, and may fire it accidentally; therefore I request thee not to point it toward me, but to turn it the other way. It is in vain for thee to think of taking this old man to Maryland. If thou wilt not return to the city voluntarily, I will certainly have thee stopped at the bridge, where thou wilt be likely to be handled much more roughly than I am disposed to do."
While this controversy was going on, poor William Bachelor was in the greatest anxiety of mind. "Oh, Master Hopper," he exclaimed, "Don't let them take me! I am not a slave. All the people in Philadelphia know I am a free man. I never was in Maryland in my life."
Ennells, hearing the name, said, "So your name is Hopper, is it? I have heard of you. It's time the world was rid of you. You have done too much mischief already."
When Friend Hopper inquired what mischief he had done, he replied, "You have robbed many people of their slaves."
"Thou art mistaken," rejoined the Quaker. "I only prevent Southern marauders from robbing people of their liberty."
After much altercation, it was agreed to return to the city; and William was again brought before the alderman, who had so hastily surrendered him. Dr. Kinley, and so many other respectable citizens, attended as witnesses, that even Ennells himself was convinced that his captive was a free man. He was accordingly set at liberty. It was, however, generally believed that Mr. Ennells knew he was not a slave when he arrested him. It was therefore concluded to prosecute him for attempting to take forcibly a free man out of the state and carry him into slavery.
When Friend Hopper went to his lodgings with a warrant and two constables, for this purpose, he found him writing, with a pistol on each side of him. The moment they entered, he seized a pistol and ordered them to withdraw, or he would shoot them. Friend Hopper replied, "These men are officers, and have a warrant to arrest thee for attempting to carry off a free man into slavery. I advise thee to lay down thy pistol and go with us. If not, a sufficient force will soon be brought to compel thee. Remember thou art in the heart of Philadelphia. It is both foolish and imprudent to attempt to resist the law. A pistol is a very unnecessary article here, whatever it may be elsewhere. According to appearances, thou dost not attempt to use it for any other purpose than to frighten people; and thou hast not succeeded in doing that."
Rage could do nothing in the presence of such imperturbable calmness; and Ennells consented to go with them to the magistrate. On the way, he quarrelled with one of the constables, and gave him a severe blow on the face with his cane. The officer knocked him down, and would have repeated the blow, if Friend Hopper had not interfered. Assisting Ennells to rise, he said, "Thou hadst better take my arm and walk with me. I think we can agree better."
When the transaction had been investigated before a magistrate, Mr. Ennells was bound over to appear at the next mayor's court and answer to the charge against him. The proprietor of the hotel where he lodged became his bail. Meanwhile, numerous letters came from people of the first respectability in Maryland and Virginia, testifying to his good character. His lawyer showed these letters to Friend Hopper, and proposed that the prosecution should be abandoned. He replied that he had no authority to act in the matter himself; but he knew the Abolition Society had commenced the prosecution from no vindictive feelings, but merely with the view of teaching people to be careful how they infringed on the rights of free men. The committee of that society met the same evening, and agreed to dismiss the suit, Mr. Ennells paying the costs; to which he readily assented.
LEVIN SMITH.
Levin was a slave in Maryland. He married a free woman and had several children. In 1802, his master sold him to a speculator, who was in the habit of buying slaves for the Southern market. His purchaser took him to his farm in Delaware, and kept him at work till he could get a profitable chance to sell him. His new master was a desperate fellow, and Levin was uneasy with the constant liability of being sold to the far South. He opened his heart to a neighbor, who advised him to escape, and gave him a letter to Isaac T. Hopper. His wife and children had removed to Philadelphia, and there he rejoined them. She took in washing, and he supported himself by sawing wood. He had been there little more than a month, when his master heard where he was, and bargained with the captain of a small sloop to catch him and bring him back to Delaware.
The plan was to seize Levin in his bed, hurry him on board the sloop, and start off immediately, before his family could have time to give the alarm. They would probably have succeeded in this project, if the captain had not drank a little too freely the evening previous, and so forgotten to get some goods on board, as he had promised. Levin was seized and carried off; but the sloop was obliged to wait for the goods, and in the meantime messengers were sent to Isaac T. Hopper. He was in bed, but sprang up the instant he heard a violent knocking at the door. In his haste, he thrust on an old rough coat and hat, which he was accustomed to wear to fires; for, in addition to his various other employments, he belonged to a fire-company. He hurried to the scene of action as quickly as possible, and found that the slave had been conveyed to a small tavern near the wharf where the sloop lay. When the landlord was questioned where the men were who had him in custody, he refused to give any information. But there was a crowd of men and boys; and one of them said, "They are up-stairs in the back room." The landlord stood in the door-way, and tried to prevent Friend Hopper from passing in; but he pushed him aside, and went up to the chamber, where he found Levin with his hands tied, and guarded by five or six men. "What are you going to do with this man?" said he. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before they seized him violently and pitched him out of the chamber window. He fell upon empty casks, and his mind was so excited, that he was not aware of being hurt. There was no time to be lost; for unless there was an immediate rescue, the man would be forced on board the sloop and carried off. As soon as he could get upon his feet, he went round again to the front door and ascended the stairs; but the door of the chamber was locked. He then returned to the back yard, mounted upon the pent-house, by means of a high board fence, and clambered into the window of a chamber, that opened into the room where the slave was. He entered with an open penknife in his hand, exclaiming, "Let us see if you will get me out so soon again!" Speaking thus, he instantly cut the cords that bound the slave, and called out, "Follow me!" He rushed down stairs as fast as he could go, and the slave after him. The guard were utterly astonished at seeing the man return, whom they had just tossed out of an upper window, and the whole thing was done so suddenly, that Friend Hopper and the liberated captive were in the street before they had time to recover their wits.
A rowdy looking crowd of men and boys followed the fugitive and his protector, shouting, "Stop thief! Stop thief!" until they came to the office of a justice of the peace, half a mile from where they started. The astonished magistrate exclaimed, "Good heavens, Mr. Hopper, what brings you here this time of the morning, in such a trim, and with such a rabble at your heels!" When the circumstances were briefly explained, he laughed heartily, and said, "I don't think they would have treated you so roughly, if they had known who you were." He was informed that Levin was a slave in Maryland, but had been living in Delaware with a man who bought him, and had thus become legally free. Measures were taken to protect him from further aggression, and he was never after molested.
Friend Hopper went home to a late breakfast; and when he attempted to rise from the table, he was seized with violent pains in the back, in consequence of his fall. He never after entirely recovered from the effects of it.
ETIENNE LAMAIRE.
This man was a slave to a Frenchman of the same name, in the Island of Guadaloupe. In consideration of faithful services, his master gave him his freedom, and he opened a barber's shop on his own account. Some time after, he was appointed an officer in the French army, against Victor Hughes. He had command of a fort, and remained in the army until the close of the war. After that period, there were symptoms of insurrection among the colored people, because the French government revoked the decree abolishing slavery in their West India Islands. Etienne was a man of talent, and had acquired considerable influence, particularly among people of his own color. He exerted this influence on the side of mercy, and was the means of saving the lives of several white people who had rendered themselves obnoxious by their efforts to restore slavery.
Affairs were so unsettled in Guadaloupe, that Etienne determined to seek refuge in the United States; and an old friend of his master procured a passport for him. A man by the name of Anslong, then at Guadaloupe, had two slaves, whom he was about to send to the care of Dennis Cottineau, of Philadelphia, with directions to place them on a farm he owned, near Princeton, New-Jersey. When it was proposed that Etienne should take passage in the same vessel, Anslong manifested much interest in his behalf. He promised that he should have his passage free, for services that he might render on board; and he took charge of his passport, saying that he would give it to the captain for safe keeping.
When the vessel arrived at Philadelphia, in March, 1803, Etienne was astonished to find that Anslong had paid his passage, and claimed him as his slave. Dennis Cottineau showed the receipts for the passage money, and written directions to forward the three slaves to New-Jersey. In this dilemma, he asked counsel of a colored man, whom he had formerly known in Guadaloupe; and he immediately conducted him to Isaac T. Hopper. He related the particulars of his case very circumstantially, and the two colored men, who were really the slaves of Anslong, confirmed his statement. When Friend Hopper had cautiously examined them, and cross-examined them, he became perfectly satisfied that Etienne was free. He advised him not to leave the city, and told him to let him know in case Dennis Cottineau attempted to compel him to do so. He accordingly waited upon that gentleman and told him he had resolved not to submit to his orders to go to New-Jersey. Whereupon Cottineau took possession of his trunk, containing his papers and clothing, and caused him to be committed to prison.
A writ of habeas corpus was procured, and the case was brought before Judge Inskeep, of the Court of Common Pleas. It was found to be involved in considerable difficulty. For while several witnesses swore that they knew Etienne in Guadaloupe, as a free man, in business for himself, others testified that they had known him as the slave of Anslong. It was finally referred to the Supreme Court, and Etienne was detained in prison several months to await his trial. Eminent counsel were employed on both sides; Jared Ingersoll for the claimant, and Joseph Hopkinson for the defendant. A certificate was produced from the municipality of Guadaloupe, showing that Etienne had been an officer in the French army for several years, and had filled the station in a manner to command respect. The National Decree abolishing slavery in that Island was also read; but Mr. Ingersoll contended that when the decree was revoked, Etienne again became a slave. In his charge, Judge Shippen said that the evidence for and against freedom was about equally balanced; and in that case, it was always a duty to decide in favor of liberty. The jury accordingly brought in a unanimous verdict that Etienne was free. The court ordered him to refund the twenty dollars, which Anslong had paid for his passage; and he was discharged.
He was a dark mulatto, tall, well-proportioned, and stylish-looking. His handsome countenance had a remarkably bright, frank expression, and there was a degree of courteous dignity in his manner, probably acquired by companionship with military officers. But he belonged to a caste which society has forbidden to develop the faculties bestowed by nature. Such a man might have performed some higher use than cutting hair, if he had lived in a wisely organized state of society. However, he made the best of such advantages as he had. He opened a barber's shop in Philadelphia, and attracted many of the most highly respectable citizens by his perfect politeness and punctuality. The colored people had various benevolent societies in that city, for the relief of the poor, the sick, and the aged, of their own complexion. Etienne Lamaire was appointed treasurer of several of these societies, and discharged his trust with scrupulous integrity.
Isaac T. Hopper had been very active and vigilant in assisting him to regain his freedom; and afterward, when he became involved in some difficulty on account of stolen goods left on his premises without his knowledge, he readily became bail for him. His confidence had not been misplaced; for when the affair had been fully investigated, the recorder declared that Mr. Lamaire had acted like an honest and prudent man, throughout the whole transaction.
His gratitude to Friend Hopper was unbounded, and he missed no opportunity to manifest it. To the day of his death, some fourteen or fifteen years ago, he never would charge a cent for shaving, or cutting the hair of any of the family, children, or grand-children; and on New Year's day, he frequently sent a box of figs, or raisins, or bon-bons, in token of grateful remembrance.