Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  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