Abby stood up. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Good.” He looked to the jury again. “Gentlemen, with regard to Mrs. Foster’s statements, you may choose to believe all or none or believe some but not others. Mrs. Foster, please begin.”
Abby hung her head for a second, as if seeking God’s blessing, and said, “Brothers—for that is how we address people—I was raised a Quaker in rural Massachusetts, near Lynn. We lived on a farm. For many years, my father and mother had no sons, and I was my father’s farmhand.” She smiled. “Which I loved.
“But there was one thing I would not do. I would not kill the chickens when it was time for that. And yes, I ate their meat, but with regret.
“When I left our family home in my midtwenties, I became a schoolteacher in Lynn. I went to an abolition lecture and found my calling. Since then, for well over thirty years, I have traveled this land saying to all who would listen that slavery is evil and must be abolished. I have founded two abolition newspapers. I have been the general agent for the American Anti-Slavery Society. I have done all I could do on behalf of the slave.”
Lizar rose and said, “Your Honor, I object that this is irrelevant.”
“It is well within bounds, Mr. Lizar. Sit down.”
Abby continued. “I am a radical abolitionist. Which means I think the slaves should be freed now, not later. Nor do I believe the slaves should be freed in exchange for compensation, or sent to a foreign land that they have never known. I believe they should be freed because of what it says in our Declaration of Independence—that all men are created equal.
“I am also a come-outer. If your church doesn’t wholeheartedly oppose slavery, you should come out of it and join some other church. We are not lacking in other churches to join.
“I am also a lifelong pacifist. I abhor war and violence. When it has been suggested to me that the slaves ought to be freed by an army, I have opposed it. When more times than I can count things were thrown at me at abolition lectures—including things from the outhouse and the barn I regret to say—I refused to seek the arrest of those who attacked me.
“I was aware, before I spoke at the Second Presbyterian Church here on August 24, that an enslaved girl was to be transferred back to her so-called owner that day. In my younger days, I might have attended a rally in support of her. I am now much too old and too tired to do it, and I did not go. I am embarrassed to say I took a nap instead.
“Even had I gone, I would never have urged anyone to go do something about the transfer because I would have known that it could lead to violence. I am opposed to violence in all its forms.
“In my lecture, I did urge people to go forth and oppose slavery, and I may well have said to do something about slavery by contributing to the cause, so that we might publish more newspapers, send out more mailings and dispatch more abolition lecturers like myself to go forth and tell our fellow citizens the truth about the horrors of slavery.
“I am not guilty of the crime with which I am charged.
“I thank you, my brothers, for your time in listening to my story. I hope soon to return to my husband, my daughter and my colleagues in the cause.”
She sat down.
Lizar stood up. “I move that the court instruct the jury that everything the defendant said starting with ‘I would never have urged anyone’ be disregarded. It is in direct contradiction to what the sworn witnesses testified to, which is not permitted in unsworn defendant statements.”
Judge Garrett seemed to think about it for a moment, then said, “Your motion is denied.”
Lincoln thought that Lizar had made a mistake because all he’d done was remind the jurors that Abby was contradicting what his witnesses had said.
“Are there any motions?” the judge said.
Lincoln stood. “I move to dismiss the government’s case on the ground that it has not met its burden and that, when considered together with the evidence the defendant has proffered, it is woefully short of the mark.”
“Your motion is denied, Mr. Lincoln. Unless there are other motions, I will now instruct the jury.”
Which he did.
After instructing the jury on various aspects of evidence and how to weigh it, as well as the meaning of “beyond a reasonable doubt,” the judge said, “Gentlemen, in order to convict Mrs. Foster in this case you must conclude that the government has proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, each of three entirely separate things, all of which together would constitute, in the language of the statute, ‘assisting a slave to escape.’
“First, that during her lecture Mrs. Foster uttered the words go out and do something about it or very similar words.
“Second, that she uttered those words with the intent to persuade members of the audience to go to the square and assist the enslaved girl, Lucy Battelle, to escape by physically interfering with her transfer to her owner.
“Third, that at least one member of her audience who heard those words went directly to the square and interfered with the transfer of Lucy Battelle to her owner or otherwise assisted her to escape.
“To convict Mrs. Foster in this case, you must determine that each and every one of those acts was proved by the government beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Then he added, “If you find, for example, that only the first two of those items have been proved beyond a reasonable doubt, but not the third, you must acquit the defendant.
“I also instruct you that although it may in some circumstances be a crime to urge someone to commit a particular criminal act even if they do not go forward and commit the act, that is not the case with the Fugitive Slave Act. Someone hearing Mrs. Foster’s words must have acted in some direct way to assist the escape. You may, however, also consider whether acts such as shouting encouragement to someone who was trying directly to free the enslaved girl constituted assisting a slave to escape.”
Lincoln could hardly contain his joy at the narrow interpretation of the Act that the judge had just embraced. There had been no testimony by anyone that after they heard Abby’s words they went to the square and assisted the escape. Nor was there testimony that anyone had shouted encouragement to someone else. Lincoln didn’t see how the jury could do anything but acquit.
Which is what he told Abby as they headed to their usual room, but without Clarence and Annabelle, who had gone elsewhere.
Before they arrived at the room, Lincoln said, “Many people would look askance at a man and a woman who are not married being alone together in a private place. Would you be more comfortable if I asked Herndon to join us?”
“Ha! I am a woman who has served on committees made up only of men except for me, and spent time alone with them on multiple occasions. I have also ridden long distances in carriages with men to whom I was not married. Certainly my husband would make no objection. What about Mrs. Lincoln?”
“I’m going to assume she would be alright with it, but I don’t plan to ask her.”
Abby laughed again. “Now, Abraham, let us return to your prediction that I will be acquitted because there is so little evidence. But one could have said, before this all began, that there was not remotely enough evidence even to indict me. Yet it happened.”
“Well, the trial is over, and it will do no good to try to predict the outcome. I should not have started down that path. Perhaps we should talk about something else while we wait.”
And so they did. Lincoln was quite interested to hear more about Abby’s thoughts on abolition, and she turned out, to his surprise, to be quite conversant with national politics. When they ran out of politics to discuss, she also told him more about her husband, Stephen. She explained that Stephen Foster was even more radical than she and had been thrown bodily out of churches and other places when he tried to speak about abolition.
58
After the jury was sent out, Clarence had wanted to stay in the courthouse until the verdic
t came back. Annabelle had wanted to leave and spend more time trying to find Lucy. She was still convinced the girl was being hidden in Springfield. Eventually Clarence agreed to pay a young man to remain behind and come to notify him straightaway the instant the jury came back. They had repaired to Clarence’s tiny office, when he said, “I think I know where she is.”
“Where?”
Despite their cooperation agreement, Clarence felt compelled to say, “Before I tell you, I want your assurance that if we go there together and find her, that whatever happens, you will tell no other journalist before I have the chance to put out a special edition of my newspaper.”
Annabelle looked him in the eye and said, “Clarence, if we find her, what are we then going to do?”
“I don’t know, which is probably why I haven’t pursued my idea.”
Annabelle walked to the window. “It’s getting dark. So, even if you were willing to tell me, evening is probably not a good time to go looking for anyone. This city seems to have ruffians about at night.”
“I thought you were a detective.”
She laughed. “Clarence, being a detective doesn’t mean putting myself at risk when I don’t need to. Whatever place you have in mind to visit will likely still be there in the daytime.”
He came and stood beside her at the window, and they looked out together. “I will protect you, Annie.”
“Don’t call me...”
“I meant it with affection.”
She bristled. “I don’t need protection.”
After that, the two of them just stood there together, looking out, but not looking at each other, until Clarence finally said, “Alright, I’ll tell where I think Lucy is if you’ll agree to my condition.”
“I agree, unless it’s necessary to tell someone else to assure the girl’s safety. And her freedom.”
“That’s agreeable. When I first came to Springfield, I visited the pastors of all of the churches to introduce myself. Father Hale gave me a tour of his church. At my request, he even took me up to see the bell tower and the bell.”
“Go on.”
“One of the things Father Hale told me is that the bell is rung only for weddings, funerals and for worship on Sundays. Oh, and to notify the citizenry of fires.”
“What has that got to do with Lucy?”
“This past Sunday the bell didn’t ring.”
“There are a lot of possible explanations.”
He turned to look at her. “What would you think if I told you that there was a wedding there the Sunday before, and I’ve learned that the bell didn’t ring for that, either.”
“A seriously ill bell ringer and no replacement easily available?”
“I think Lucy is being hidden there by Father Hale.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really? I’ve heard Father Hale is what people call a moderate abolitionist. Hiding her would seem out of character.”
“Perhaps the prosecution of Abby Kelley Foster has radicalized him. Anyone can see that it’s being managed from Washington by the Buchanan administration.”
Clarence turned and began to walk around the room, hands behind his back. “I’m wondering if I should tell you what I’ve done.”
She laughed. “As a detective I’ve learned that when people say things like that it means they’re getting ready to tell you. So tell me.”
“Earlier this week, I went to investigate.”
“I thought that was my job.”
Clarence ignored her and continued. “The church is heavily used Friday through Sunday. The rest of the week, it is not, especially in the evenings. There is usually no one there. And there is an unlocked back door, so one evening I just went in. After I went in, I looked carefully around. I suspected she was in the bell tower, but the door was locked and I couldn’t find a key.
“There is another solution.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you when we get there, Clarence.”
“For now, let’s go back and wait for the jury verdict,” he said. “If it’s an acquittal, there will likely be a small victory party, and we can sneak away to the church since it’s a weeknight, and Father Hale will likely be at the party.”
“And if it’s a conviction?”
“The party will turn into a wake, and we can sneak away even more easily.”
59
There was a knock on the door of the room in which Abby and Lincoln had been meeting, and the clerk stuck his head in. “Jury is back with a verdict,” he said. “Please return to the courtroom.”
“That was quick,” Abby said.
Lincoln checked his pocket watch. “A little over an hour.”
“Is that a good omen, Abraham?”
Lincoln pursed his lips. “Well...all I can say after almost twenty-five years of doing trials and waiting for verdicts is that there is no real way to tell.”
Abby let out a sigh. “Alright,” she said. “Let us go and find out.”
“Yes.”
“Before we go, Abraham, whatever the outcome, I want to thank you. I cannot imagine having had a better lawyer. Despite that, I still cannot bring myself to urge white men—sadly, the only ones who can legally vote—to mark their ballots for you on November 6. It’s a matter of principle, I hope you understand. But I do promise to stop calling you the slave hound of Illinois.” She laughed. “At least in public.”
* * *
Perhaps it was because she had spent so many years agonizing over the fate of the slave that Abby had never had much chance to worry about her own fate. That had changed during the weeks she spent in her cell, where she had been provided with plenty to read, but where she found herself also thinking about her own future.
She had steeled herself to the idea that she was going to go to jail. But it would only be for six months, and she could, through letters and visitors, continue to promote the cause—as a kind of martyr. As for jail, she would just have to endure it. And surely, women would be treated better in prison than men. Or would they?
She was still having those thoughts as the jury, led by the clerk, filed in and everyone took their seats.
The judge looked to the jury and said, “Gentlemen, the clerk has informed me you have a verdict. Who amongst you is the foreman?”
“I am,” Alexander Humphreys said.
“If you have a verdict form, please hand it to the clerk.”
The clerk walked over to Humphreys and took from him a folded piece of paper. The clerk unfolded it, looked at it and handed it to the judge, who glanced at it and handed it back to the clerk.
“The defendant will please rise and face the jury.”
Abby rose and turned to face them. Lincoln and Lizar rose, too.
“Please read the verdict, Mr. Clerk,” the judge said.
Abby felt her hands shaking. She tried to suppress it by closing her fists.
The clerk seemed to puff himself up and said, “We the jury, in the case of United States vs. Abby Kelley Foster, Southern District of Illinois, Case No. 392, find the defendant not guilty of the crime with which she has been charged.”
Abby felt a wave of relief wash over her and felt, more than heard, Lincoln congratulating her.
The clerk turned to the jury. “Is this your verdict, so say you one, so say you all?”
There was a chorus of yeses and Abby noticed that almost all of the jurors wore broad smiles.
The judge addressed Lizar. “Mr. Lizar, do you wish the jury to be polled individually?”
“No, Your Honor.”
The judge looked again to the jury. “Gentlemen, thank you for your service to your country. You are dismissed with the court’s thanks. You are free to talk to counsel, the defendant and the journalists, who I see at the back of the courtroom hankering to talk to you. But you are also free not to talk to any of them
. The marshal will escort you out if you wish to escape without talking to anyone.”
Turning to the sheriff, he said, “I know that you have been holding the defendant in your jail on behalf of the United States. By order of this court, the defendant is to be released from custody forthwith.
“Are there any other matters or motions that need to be brought to the attention of the court?”
No one spoke up.
“Very well, we are adjourned.”
Abby felt the tension drain from her body.
Lizar came over and extended his hand, muttered something—Abby couldn’t quite hear it—and she shook his hand in return. Had he been a slaveholder, she would have refused. But it seemed the thing to do.
Then she noticed that the judge had come down from the bench and was approaching them.
He first turned to Abby and said, “Mrs. Foster, I am not supposed to say this kind of thing, but I think justice was done here.”
He next turned to Lizar, extended his hand and said, “Mr. Lizar, thank you for so competently representing the United States in this matter. I’m sure you have a bright future ahead of you—in the East.” They both laughed.
Finally, he turned to Lincoln and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Lincoln. You know, I was originally going to vote for Senator Douglas, but I think I may change my mind and vote for you.”
“Why, thank you, Judge.”
“The election isn’t very far off, is it?”
“November 6, Your Honor. Just over three weeks.”
“Well, I dare say that may well be the most important one in our history.” He then turned back to Lizar and said, “Mr. Lizar, before we part, I have been wondering, what do your initials, G.W., stand for?”
“George Washington, Your Honor.”
There was a small silence as they all took that in.
“I hope it hasn’t been a burden to bear that name,” the judge said, “in that he was so famous...”
The Day Lincoln Lost Page 30
