Clockwork Souls (4 page)

The day after the summons arrived, a Friend traveling north
from Maryland brought word that Adam had been captured and returned to his
owner. Thomas received the news like a physical blow, as if his own child had
been delivered into slavery.

“
I think it would have
been better to let Cochoran take me,
” Adam had said, “
and send me back to be put once more into endless sleep, rather than to
remember.
”

It took another six months for the United States Circuit
Court to schedule the trial, during which time there was no further news about
Adam’s fate. Inquiries revealed nothing. Thomas did not know whether Adam had
been put to the work of catching fugitives or had refused and been condemned to
that
endless sleep
. The matter
troubled him sorely. He understood that slaves had little power to resist, but
few runaway slaves faced execution upon their return or were forced to hunt
down their fellows. This Durham N. Turner, who claimed Adam as his property,
would not understand. Nor might those who championed the rights of African
slaves, but who might see Adam and his kind as machines without agency or moral
choice. If the plight of enslaved blacks was dire, what of those who were not
even recognized as human?

Thomas arrived early at the New Castle courthouse, an
imposing structure of red brick. The courtroom itself was large, chill and damp
in these winter months. Thomas took his place in front of the railing, not a
little surprised to find every chair and bench in the viewing section occupied,
a few women among the men. More onlookers stood shoulder-to-shoulder along the
back of the room, spilling out onto the corridor beyond. The audience was
equally divided between fellow Quakers and sympathizers, and well-dressed folk
who, by their expressions of disapproval, represented the pro-slavery position.
Several reporters, including a man from the magazine
The Blue Hen’s Chicken
, stood at the back, taking notes. The
atmosphere was tense, with many hostile glances cast in the direction of Thomas
and the other Friends. Even so, Thomas found cause for optimism. Thomas Garrett
had prevailed upon his good friend, the abolitionist John Wales, for the
defense. On the other hand, the judges were Charles W. Hall, an undistinguished
District judge, and Chief Justice Roger Taney. Taney had presided over the
Amistad
case, considered a victory for
the anti-slavery movement, but he was also known as a strict proponent of
states’ rights.

The judges took their places on the bench, the jury was
seated, and proceedings began with a series of motions followed by opening
statements. John Wales had warned Thomas that the case was likely to go against
him. There was no evidence that Thomas had harbored Nat. On the other hand,
three eyewitnesses had seen Adam at the Covington farm and had heard Thomas
refuse to hand him over to Robert Cochoran. Those witnesses proceeded to give
testimony, as did Durham N. Turner. On cross-examination, Wales asked each to
describe the automaton, a self-locomoting machine in the shape of a man, and
for Turner to give its provenance. Turner produced a bill of sale from an
importing firm, the Lake Geneva Trading Company. The sheriff testified that
once a complaint had been filed and a warrant issued, he had searched the Covington
farm but found no sign of the described property. He could not state of his own
knowledge if such a device had ever been present.

Chief Justice Taney had been listening to the testimony, a
frown on his long, dour face. He wanted to know how the defendant had been able
to prevent a self-locomoting machine from carrying out the instructions of an
agent, meaning Cochoran, placed in authority over it. Had Thomas instructed the
machine otherwise? Had he physically restrained it?

Cochoran returned to the stand and was reminded he was still
under oath. “Nossir, your Honor, Covington didn’t do nothing but stand there.”

“Then why were you unable to retrieve the automaton?”

“Well, he . . .” the slave-catcher glanced at
Thomas. “He talked to it. Pardon, his wife did. She asked what it wanted to do.”

Taney’s shoulders straightened, a subtle movement under the
folds of his judge’s gown. Thomas caught the leap of interest in his
expression, a tightening of the small muscles around the eyes. “And what did
this device communicate? It can speak?”

“Yessir, it surely can. It said—” Cochoran’s face twisted
with the effort of remembering “—it didn’t like bein’ a slave, so it wouldn’t
do that to anyone else. Or thereabouts.”

Now Judge Hall sat up as well. “This
mechanical device
quoted the Golden Rule?”

“Not . . . not exactly.”

“Exactly enough for this court,” Taney said dryly, “albeit
in the negative form.”

“Your Honor,” Turner’s attorney spoke up once the bustle of
reaction from the audience had died down. “This is beside the point. The
defendant, Thomas Covington, unlawfully prevented my client from enjoying the
use of his property.”

Taney’s voice dropped in pitch and his dark, unruly brows
drew together. “Are you attesting
that the defendant is guilty of failing to take positive action to return property that expressly did not wish
to be returned?”

The attorney blanched, but only for a moment. “The automaton
is not a volitional agent, your Honor. It is a machine. It can be taught to
parrot back phrases and it can follow a limited range of instructions, but it
cannot
wish
for anything.”

“That remains to be determined. Mr. Turner, in your
affidavit you state that the device was eventually recovered. Present it before
this court for examination.”

Turner got to his feet. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t do any
good, your Honor. When the automaton refused to function as it ought, I took it
back to the manufacturer. They removed the animation element and inserted a new
one. It’s working properly now, but it doesn’t remember what happened to it
before.”

Oh, Adam.
Thomas
wished Hannah were here.

“Animation element?” Taney lifted one eyebrow. “And what
might that consist of?”

“It’s . . .” Turner bent over the table and
rifled through a stack of papers, finally extracting one and reading from it. “It’s
a
discorporated nonmaterial motivational
unit
.”

“A what?” someone in the audience exclaimed. Taney glared at
the man and the hubbub subsided.

“By this,” Taney addressed himself to Turner once more, “do
you mean a
soul
?”

“I . . . I suppose so.”

“And whence came this soul?”

“I’m sorry, your Honor, the papers don’t say. It must have
been the sort of man suited to catching slaves. Maybe even a slave himself.”
Turner recovered a modicum of composure as he nodded in approval of his own
argument.

Thomas felt too numb, too horrified to speak. At his side,
John Wales scribbled notes on a piece of foolscap.

Judge Hall cleared his throat. “So you have no information
as to whether the provider of this . . . soul was a free man or
slave?”

“Your Honor!” Turner’s attorney exclaimed, gesturing for his
client to remain silent. “Is this germane to the charges?”

“We are attempting to determine whether the automaton
constitutes in itself a device for the unlawful imprisonment of a free man’s . . .
soul, or whether, in its capacity as the encasing structure for a slave, it
fulfills in its entirety the definition of
property.
”

The discussion went on for another three-quarters of an
hour, although Thomas had not the heart to follow it closely. It sickened him
to his very marrow to think of Adam, that new and bright spirit, now so
casually extinguished. As a Friend, he was committed to the testimony of peace,
but he could not deny the anger that stirred at the notion of the souls of men,
those reflections of Divinity itself, treated as expendable commodities.

Adam, gone. . . .

Turner submitted his ownership papers, along with other
informational materials from the Lake Geneva Trading Company, as evidence.
Taney announced that he and Judge Hall would review the documents and hear
closing arguments after the recess. After they retired, John Wales leaned
toward Thomas.

“Mr. Covington, are you unwell?”

Thomas came back to himself. “Friend,” he said, gently
reminding the lawyer that Quakers did not use such titles, “I am distressed to
learn of the death of a friend.”

“You cannot mean the automaton?”

“Not the metal housing, but the soul within it, yes. John
Wales, this was a child of God, even as you or I. Should we not mourn his
passing, and for such a senseless cause as the pursuit of men who seek only
their own freedom?”

Wales swept his hair back from his high forehead. “The
business at hand is your acquittal. Grief and politics can come later.”

Grief comes when it comes,
Thomas thought, but did not say it aloud.

Court resumed. Turner’s lawyer restated his case,
pointedly referring to the eyewitness testimony. He implied that the
malfunction of the automaton, which necessitated the considerable expense of
repairs, was due to damage inflicted on it by the defendant. Wales, in his
turn, argued that Cochoran and his assistants had entered the property of
Thomas Covington uninvited. Without a proper warrant and proof of ownership of
the mechanical device, Thomas had been under no obligation to deliver the
automaton. If the automaton had refused to comply with its instructions, then
perhaps those instructions were improperly issued. Given the necessity for
subsequent repairs, the automaton was certainly defective. In neither case
could responsibility be assigned to his client.

As persuasive as these arguments were, Thomas grew
increasingly uneasy. The question was not whether Cochoran or Turner or anyone
else had the proper authority to claim a piece of stolen equipment, but whether
Adam or any human soul should be enslaved.

Thomas caught the eye of his attorney and beckoned him over.
“John, thee must allow me to speak. Put me on the stand!”

“Are you mad? You’ll be under oath and the plaintiff will
question you on cross-examination! You’d be slitting your own throat!” Wales
hesitated, perhaps remembering that Thomas would not swear an oath that implied
he was at other times untruthful. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late. Unless you
have some new piece of evidence you haven’t told me about.”

“Not evidence, no—”

“Counsel for the defense, do you require a recess?” Justice
Hall inquired. Taney was scowling in disapproval.

“Thomas, there’s a time and a place for everything. Now let
me do my job.” Wales straightened up. “I’ll resume my statement straightaway,
your Honor.”

Thomas sat helplessly as Wales concluded his speech. He did
not expect the jury to confer for long, and they did not. As the courtroom
settled to hear the verdict, Thomas felt a sense of dread. He listened as Hall
reviewed the salient points in the case, searching for any hint as to how the
judges saw Adam’s status—machine or man, slave or free? But Hall kept only to
the testimony presented, and Taney’s expression was unreadable.

In the end, did it matter in whose favor these men decided?
Would Adam be less dead in either case?

After Hall concluded, Taney glanced down at his notes and
began. “This court was unable, given the facts presented, to determine if the
entity referred to as the automaton is entirely a mechanical device or whether
it, by the moiety which might be considered a human soul, has a valid claim to
consideration as a person. Furthermore, we have been unable to determine
whether that person, if any such exists, is to be considered a slave or a free
citizen. Therefore, we have attempted to ascertain whether, at the time the
Constitution was ratified, federal law would have recognized this entity as a
citizen, and we have determined that it would not. A device created for the
sole purpose of servitude, regardless of any hypothetical human component, must
therefore be regarded under law as property.”