Tom 1

A person by the name of Wallace, a wealthy planter in Virginia, took a tour to the North and East, accompanied by his wife and two daughters. After visiting Quebec, and some of the cities in New England, they arrived in Philadelphia, in the autumn, about the year 1804, and took lodgings at the well-known inn, called the “Indian Queen,” in South Fourth street. They concluded to spend the winter in that city, for the purpose of enjoying the popular amusements of the place, among the fashionables of the city. They had with them a favorite family servant to wait upon them. During their sojourn there, they were careful to keep him from forming acquaintance with any of the colored people, fearing they might induce him to leave their services. They remained in Philadelphia till late in the ensuing spring, when they made preparations for returning to Virginia. I shall call the servant Tom; for I believe that was his name, though it is so long since the circumstances occurred, that I am not certain. Tom had been long enough in Philadelphia to become attached to the place, and his master discovered that he was extremely reluctant to return to Virginia. To prevent difficulty, he had him arrested, and placed in prison. He was committed in the evening. The next morning, the keeper sent and informed me that a colored man had been committed to prison as a slave, who he thought had a legal right to his freedom. Soon after receiving this information, I had an interview with the prisoner. He was about thirty-five or forty years old, and had resided with Wallace from early childhood. He made no complaint of hard treatment, but was very desirous of being free. I inquired of him why he was so unwilling to return to Virginia, inasmuch as he did not complain of bad usage. He replied, “Everybody wishes to be free. If master dies, I shall be sold, and may be sent to Georgia.” I discovered, on interrogating 372him, that he had been in Philadelphia more than six months. I then informed him that he was a free man, and that I would protect him. He clasped his hands with deep emotion, and in an instant his face was suffused with tears. His joy was inexpressible. I stepped into the keeper’s office, and drew up a petition for a habeas corpus. While I was writing it, the keeper informed me that his master had gone to the magistrate who committed him, to get a discharge; and that he intended to send him off immediately. He added, “Be as expeditious as possible. If he comes with it, I will detain the man till you return, if you don’t stay more than an hour.” I proceeded forthwith to the courthouse near by, where the supreme court was then in session. I gave my petition to Joseph Hopkinson, who was then in court, to present. It was addressed “To Edward Shippen, chief justice of the supreme court of the State of Pennsylvania, and his associates.” Hopkinson, after looking over it, remarked, “you must let me add ’To the honorable.’“ This I declined, and he refused to present it to the court. I then stepped up and said, “I hold in my hand a petition for a habeas corpus; I gave it to my friend, Joseph Hopkinson, to present; but he declined doing so, because it is not couched in the usual terms, ’To the honorable.’ I presume I have as honorable an opinion of this court as my friend Hopkinson; but it is an epithet that is often misapplied, and one which I have conscientious objections to using. I hope this court will not deny justice to the man, on whose behalf I make this application, on account of my conscientious scruples. Unless the habeas corpus is issued immediately, the man will be taken out of the jurisdiction of this court.” As soon as I took my seat, Sampson Levy, counsel for the claimant, rose and said, “I hope the court will not suffer that petition to be read. The proceeding is irregular. The court have been told that Mr. Hopkinson had declined to present it. Mr. Hopkinson is one of the counsel of the abolition society, and if there had been no objection, but that mentioned, he doubtless would have cheerfully attended to the business.” Levy commenced a speech, which I soon discovered was likely to occupy considerable time. I rose, and asked the court to permit me to interrupt the counsel for one minute. I remarked, “I repeat that unless a habeas corpus is issued immediately, the man will be out of the jurisdiction of the court. 373I suppose his claimant is now at the prison, waiting to take him away.” Judge Yates, as soon as I had done speaking, said, “Read your petition.” I read it. He then said, “Take your writ.” I was soon furnished with it, and immediately went to the prison, where I found Wallace, and Richard Hunt, a constable, with their manacles ready to fetter Tom and carry him off. Upon exhibiting the writ, I received, as was customary in such cases, a volley of abuse from Wallace and his officer. They demanded their man, and threatened the keeper with prosecution, unless he immediately gave up the prisoner. As soon as he could make out the return to the writ, we all proceeded to the court-house. Upon arriving there, J. Hopkinson said, “Now I will attend to the case for you.” I replied, “I thank thee, I shall not need thy services.”