I.

THREE years elapsed after the remanding of Sims to slavery before Boston was again aroused by a similar struggle with the Fugitive Slave Law. In 1854, however, the memorable case of Anthony Burns shook the city with a still stronger agitation. To read the newspapers of the day, or to turn to Theodore Parker's cuttings from them, is to plunge involuntarily into that fiery championship of the slave that lay so close at the root of our Civil War, and yet was so apart from the acknowledged motives of the defenders of the Union. Nothing could give a more vivid picture of the state of feeling in all grades of society and among men of all shades of political opinion than a collection of the contemporary accounts of the arrest and trial of Burns. The Boston Public Library contains files of the Liberator and Commonwealth, on the one hand, and of the Gazette on the other, as well as William I. Bowditch's Rendition of Anthony Burns, The Anthony Burns Case, in Reports of the House, No. 205, and a few other books or pamphlets, among which may be mentioned The Boston Slave Riot, The Kidnapping of Burns, O. B. Frothingham's Life of Theodore Parker, etc.

      Burns escaped from Virginia in the spring of 1854. He had, before that time, worked for a Richmond man named Millspaugh, to whom he had been leased by Charles F. Suttle, of Alexandria. After his capture he told his master that he fell asleep on board a vessel and was carried off. In his later version he says with more vagueness, and probably with more truth, that he met, as it were, with a "golden opportunity." His golden opportunity having landed him in Boston, he found employment with Coffin Pitts, who was a clothes dealer and a good Abolitionist.

      Colonel Suttle had not long to wait before obtaining a clue to Anthony's whereabouts. A letter came to Anthony's brother, who was a slave on Colonel Suttle's plantation; and Colonel Suttle, availing himself of the slaveholder's privilege, opened the letter and possessed himself of its contents. Anthony Burns, though he had taken the precaution to send the letter to Canada for re-mailing, had headed the communication "Boston," and in it had given the name and address of his employer. Suttle consequently came to Boston, where he selected his commissioner, and confident that he could push the trial to an immediate conclusion, engaged a vessel in which to slip away with his prize.

      The arrest was made at about eight o'clock on a May evening, the 24th. Burns was going up Court Street, on his way from the shop on Brattle Street to his lodgings, which were in a different part of the city, when he heard behind him a sound of running. Next came the hand upon his shoulder.

      "Stop, old fellow!" cried a voice, "you broke into the silversmith's shop last night!" Turning, he saw six men at his back. To his denial, his captors replied, "You must come along with us, and if you are not the one we want, we will let you go."

      "The next place I found myself in," says Burns, in his narrative, "was a room upstairs in the court-house, where they set me in a chair waiting for the 'silversmith' to come in; and," he adds, "I began to consider [comprehend] what was the difficulty." When, after more than an hour of suspense, steps came down the passage and the door opened, the sight of Colonel Suttle was scarcely a surprise. Witnesses accompanied Suttle, for it was his object to obtain in their presence a recognition, to be used against Burns in the trial. He was not disappointed. In answer to his salutation, Burns, falling back into the slave's habit, responded submissively, "How do you do, Mas'r Charles?"

      A short conversation, reported at the trial, ensued.

      "Did I ever whip you?"

      "No, sir."

      "Did I ever hire you out when you did not wish to go?"

      "No, sir."

      "When you were sick did I not prepare a bed in my own house and put you upon it and nurse you?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Are you willing to go back?"

      "Yes, sir." This answer Burns afterwards denied.

      "Do you think I shall have any trouble in taking you back?"

      Burns, to use his own words, was "brought to a kind of stand, dumb-like," and answered, "I don't know." But Colonel Suttle had gained his point. He had won a recognition from Burns, and was satisfied.

      "I make you no promises, and I make you no threats," he said; and then left the room. Burns understood well enough what that meant his treatment after his return to the South would depend on his conduct now. With the fate of Sims fresh before him, what wonder that he fell back upon submission, the one safeguard of the slave!

      On the following morning he was taken, handcuffed, into the court-room. Mr. Grimes, a colored minister of Boston, says, in his testimony before a committee of the Massachusetts House of Representatives: ". . .   On Thursday morning, May 25, 1854, . . . some one came to my house and informed me [of the arrest]. . . .    Between half past seven and eight o'clock I went to the marshal's office, and he gave me a permit to enter the court-room. . . .    I went up to speak to Burns, and an officer objected to it, but there was another officer who knew me and he gave me permission to speak to Burns. I did so. Very soon after this, Richard H. Dana, Jr., came in. . . ."

      Let Mr. Dana go on with the story. He testifies: "A little before nine o'clock, on Thursday morning, passing the court- house, I heard that there was a man in custody there as a fugitive slave. I went immediately in. He was sitting in the usual place of prisoners, surrounded by officers, and in irons. I spoke to him and offered my services. He said it would be of no use; that they had got him and that if he protracted the matter and made any delay, it would be worse for him when he got back to Virginia. He said there was nothing to be done. . .   He seemed to be under the effect of fear, and not to be master of himself." Mr. Dana seems then to have gone to his office, for there Theodore Parker found him, in much perplexity. "Before the trial commenced," says Mr. Parker, testifying before this same committee, "I went to Mr. Dana's office; . . .    Mr. Dana appeared a good deal excited, - was walking about the room. . . .   I asked him what would become of the man. He said, 'I suppose he will be sent back, as Sims was.' I asked, 'Where is he?' 'In the court-house; I just saw him.' 'Who is his counsel?' 'He has none.'

      They agreed to try further persuasion, and went together to the court-room. Mr. Parker continues:—

      "At not more than five minutes past nine we entered the court-room. Mr. Loring [Edward G. Loring, United States Com- missioner] was in his seat; Mr. Burns was in the dock. . . .   I conferred with Burns. I told him I . . . had been appointed . . . minister-at-large in behalf of fugitive slaves, and asked him if he did not want counsel. He said, 'I shall have to go back. Mr. Suttle knows me, Brent knows me. If I must go back I want to go back as easy as I can.'

      "But surely,' I said, 'it can do you no harm to make a defence.'

      "Well,' said Burns, 'you may do as you have a mind to about it.' He seemed to me to be stupefied with fear, and when he talked with me he kept looking at Suttle and Brent."

      Referring again to Mr. Dana's account, we find: "As the examination of Burns went on, I saw that there ought to be counsel. . . .   I rose and addressed the court as amicus curiæ." He moved a postponement of the trial, saying, "Time should be allowed the prisoner to recover himself from the stupefaction of his sudden arrest . . . and have opportunity to consult with friends and members of the bar, and determine what course he will pursue. . . .   He is . . . not in a state to say what he wishes to do. . . .   He does not know what he is saying."

      "The claimant's counsel," Mr. Dana goes on to say, "resisted the motion. . . . After the addresses from the bar, Judge Loring ordered the officers to bring Burns to him. They brought him to the bench. . . .   Judge Loring spoke to him kindly. . . .   He told him he could have counsel if he wished it, and pointed to us at the bar. Anthony looked round the court-room, timidly, and made no reply. The judge said, 'Anthony, would you like to go away, and come back and meet me to-morrow or next day, and tell me what you want us to do?"" It seemed impossible for Burns to answer. When the question "Would you like to have counsel?" was repeated, Mr. Dana, watching anxiously, could not see whether assent or dissent were signified. "The judge looked doubtful," Mr. Dana reports, "but said, 'Anthony, I understand you to say you would.' Burns then said, 'I should.' The judge immediately said, 'Then you shall have it.'"

      Mr. Parker also describes this scene: "When Loring asked him whether he would have counsel, his eye fluctuated from Loring to Suttle, and back again to Loring, and when he said 'Yes,' he turned away from Suttle to do so."

      Mr. Dana and Mr. Ellis prepared to act as counsel. The trial was postponed until Saturday.

      Now ensued days of untiring exertion among the Abolitionists. No stone was left unturned in the search for some means of escape for Burns. Suttle was interviewed, and at first agreed to sell him, naming twelve hundred dollars as his price. The sum was raised. Then Suttle — who, it is thought, had received instructions from Virginia, where this was considered a test case — said that all expenses must be paid besides; and finally refused to complete the bargain on any terms.

      The greater part of Friday was spent by the Vigilance Committee in consultation. The members debated closely the possibility of a rescue. Law-abiding men though they were, they could not obey a law which violated justice and outraged their sense of right. "The higher law" was their guide; loyalty to that controlled their actions. A number of them held that it would be possible to force down the guard, strike up the muskets, and carry Burns off in triumph without bloodshed. They were men who stood well in public esteem, and who were known to the officials; the idea was not wholly chimerical. Others of the committee, however, were less sanguine, and the day passed without bringing them to an agreement. Late in the afternoon a few of them resolved to take the matter into their own hands, and they formed what Colonel T. W. Higginson maintains was "one of the best plans that ever failed." It was this: they were to attempt the rescue that night, while all good Abolitionists would be supposed to be attending the indignation meeting to be held in behalf of Burns, at Faneuil Hall. The meeting itself was to be turned to good account; for while they were breaking down the court-house door, an announcement of their attack was to be made in the hall, whereupon the audience, they were confident, would rush out to aid them, and in such numbers that success would be assured.

      The meeting was held. Faneuil Hall was filled. Samuel E. Sewall called the meeting to order; George R. Russell presided; William I. Bowditch and Robert Morris were chosen secretaries; Theodore Parker and Wendell Phillips were among the speakers. Wendell Phillips, Colonel Higginson says, did not know of the plan. Parker did, but apparently not very clearly.

      "See to it," said Phillips, "that to-morrow, in the streets of Boston, you ratify the verdict of Faneuil Hall, that Anthony Burns has no master but his God."

      "Fellow subjects of Virginia," began Theodore Parker, — there was sensation among his hearers, — "Fellow citizens of Boston, then: A deed which Virginia commanded has been done in the city of John Hancock and the 'brace of the Adamses.' It was done by a Boston hand. It was a Boston man who issued the warrant; it was a Boston marshal who put it into execution; they are Boston men who are seeking to kidnap a citizen of Massachusetts and send him into slavery for ever and ever. It is our fault that it is so. We are the vassals of Virginia. She reaches her arm over the graves of our mothers and kidnaps men in the city of the Puritans. Gentlemen, there is no Boston to-day. There was a Boston once; now there is a north suburb to the city of Alexandria. . . .   I am a clergyman, and a man of peace. I love peace. But there is a means and there is an end. Liberty is the end; and sometimes peace is not the means towards it. Now I want to ask you what you are going to do? [Then a voice cried, "Shoot — shoot!"] There are ways of managing this matter without shooting anybody. . . if we stand up there resolutely and declare that this man shall not go out of Boston, — without shooting a gun [this was received with great applause and cries of "That's it!"] — then he won't go back."

      "Parker, while speaking," says Mr. Octavius B. Frothingham, in his Life of Mr. Parker, "expected a signal or summons from the party of men at Court Square. Not receiving any, he ended with, 'Now I am going to propose that when you adjourn, it be to meet at Court Square to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock.'

      A few in the audience shouted, "Let's go to-night!" At this, and at a proposition to visit the "slave-catchers" at the Revere House, Wendell Phillips sprang to his feet again, bidding them "wait until the daytime," and saying, "The zeal that won't keep till to-morrow will never free a slave!" Finally, in the lull which followed his appeal, came a voice from the doorway:—

      "The court-house is now being attacked!"

      "To Court Square!" shouted the audience in reply.

      Then, indeed, to Court Square they streamed; some merely to look on; a few, probably, to take part in the rescue. But they were too late. The attempt was thwarted before they arrived. Had Faneuil Hall been arranged as it now is, with a separate access to the platform, it is very likely that the whole attack would have turned out differently. Then there was no separate entrance, so that the people on and around the platform, who were the most zealous, had to wait while the whole crowded audience of mere indifferent people left the hall and partly blocked Court Square.

      William F. Channing reached the square in time to see a dozen or fourteen men wrench a heavy beam from the staircase of the Museum Building, opposite the court-house, and charge with it, end foremost, against the court-house door. Again and again they drew off and charged, hoping to break through the door. The sound of blows echoed through the night, and the bell of the court-house rang out a loud alarm. Suddenly the heavy folding-doors gave way. The men, dropping the beam, rushed up the steps to the threshold. Upon the threshold they were met by the marshal and his assistants, who were guarding the entrance from within. Shots were heard; then the attacking party fell back, only two, T. W. Higginson and a colored man, having got inside. The marshal, one of whose men had been killed, whether by a mistake of one of his comrades or by one of those making the attack it was impossible to say, withdrew his force to the inner staircase. There was a moment of suspense, when, with sufficient recruits, the rescuers might have won the victory; but the expected help did not arrive, and as they hesitated, the quick tread of a squad of police sounded along the pavement, and their moment was past. Laying about with their clubs the officers scattered the crowd, marched up the court-house steps, closed the doors, and before the people from Faneuil Hall came upon the scene, the affair was over.

      After this unsuccessful attempt all chance of rescue was gone, for Marshal Freeman called United States troops to his aid. "That very night," says Mr. Frothingham, "a force of marines was marched over from the Charlestown Navy Yard. In the morning a detachment of troops arrived from Fort Independence. . . .   The Mayor of Boston applied for the aid of the state militia. . . .   The militia held the streets, while the United States troops held the court-house."

II.

      The trial was to have been held on Saturday, but was postponed once more to the following week. It opened on Monday, May 29. The growth of the anti-slavery sentiment in the community was evident. A few Abolitionists had protested against the removal of Sims; the arrest of Burns struck fire upon innumerable hearthstones. From the white heat of Parker's pen went this summons:—

      In answer to his appeal thousands flocked into the city. Not only Court Square, but every adjacent street was thronged. The court-house was guarded, as during Sim's trial, by soldiers and with chains. The trial lasted through Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The claimant's counsel endeavored to establish Burns's identity, while the counsel for the fugitive, besides trying to show that the Fugitive Slave Law was unconstitutional, based their de- fence upon certain inaccuracies in the record. Toward the end of the contest Richard H. Dana, Jr., in his final appeal to Judge Loring, spoke as follows:—

      Mr. Dana then called the commissioner's attention to certain other flaws in the claimant's case. They were, briefly: that the record spoke of a scar on Burns's right cheek, and a cut on his right hand, whereas the prisoner's cheek bore the mark of branding, and his hand was broken; that Burns did not, strictly speaking, owe service to Colonel Suttle, since he was leased by Suttle to Millspaugh, etc., etc., displaying, in his endeavor to present to the commissioner some loophole of escape from an adverse judgment, an ingenuity that might have done credit to Portia. The address closed as follows:—

      The speech of Mr. Seth J. Thomas, counsel for the claimant, was devoted to showing that the description of Burns was substantially correct, that the testimony proving an alibi was of no weight, and that Burns's identity was proved by his own admissions. On Friday the commis- sioner was to render his decision. Early in the morning of that day a cannon was brought into Court Square and planted a little south of the court-house. Troops waited on the Common to take possession of the streets at command. The crowd was denser than ever. At nine o'clock Judge Loring began to speak.

      But this conflict, the commissioner proceeded to say, quoting in detail the conversation between Burns and Suttle, was decided by Burns's recognition of his master and of Brent. "To me," continued Judge Loring, "this evidence, when applied to the question of identity, confirms that of Mr. Brent. . . ."

      Sitting near one of the windows was a man who had agreed to inform his friends outside of the result, on the instant of the delivery of the decision. His hand, extended upward, would announce freedom for Burns, but a reverse position would indicate the remand to slavery.

      With this Judge Loring delivered the certificate, and immediately the hand by the window pointed down. Instantly great folds of black flung out an answer from the casements of adjacent buildings. From block to block the mourning spread, and men bent their heads in shame and sorrow.

      As for Burns, the officers took him in charge and hurried him back into the prison-room, for the streets had yet to be made ready for his removal. Soldiers marched down from the Common and cleared Court Square. Guards were posted at every entrance, and armed men were stationed in a close line along each side of the entire route, from the court-house to Long Wharf. Above the heads of the soldiers floated emblems of the city's grief. John A. Andrew's office was draped in black, and from the Commonwealth office flags, mingled with dark folds, were hung, while streams of crape were stretched across the street.

      A bell began to toll. It was the bell of the Brattle Street church. The ringer had entered the church secretly, and had caused himself to be locked in by a friend, for the mayor of Boston, when asked if the bells might toll, had refused, it is said, with a stamp of the foot. That mayor was probably no better pleased at receiving from Joseph R. Hayes a letter resigning the position of Captain of the Watch, a position which necessitated acting in execution of the "infamous Fugitive Slave Bill."

      Other church towers took up the knell; business ceased; there was a pause of expectancy and gloom. Then the court-house doors were thrown open, United States troops issued from within, twenty special officers heavily armed formed a hollow square before the eastern entrance, and Burns, brought out by Marshal Freeman, was placed in the hollow square, and the soldiers formed an escort before and behind.

      A desperate last effort at rescue was made just as the soldiers were about to move. A fire-engine, by a preconcerted scheme, dashed through State Street; but nothing was gained, for the ranks promptly closed after it, and the plot, whatever it was, failed.

      Surrounded, first by the marshal and his aids, then by the twenty officers, preceded and followed by the soldiers, Burns was carried through the Boston streets. Groans and hisses greeted the procession. It is recorded that there were cheers as well. At the side of Long Wharf was T Wharf, where lay the steamer John Taylor and the revenue cutter Morris.

      Burns was at first put on board the steamer, and was thence transferred to the cutter; for his captors feared to let the people know which vessel he was in. At three o'clock both vessels left the wharf. The steamer accompanied the cutter down the harbor, and then returned with the troops.

      The struggle over, and Burns gone, quiet gradually settled over the city. The Fugitive Slave Law had won the victory. It was a defeat for the Abolitionists, but plainly the last of the kind that they would suffer. To one who visited Judge Shaw a day or so after the ending of the trial, the Chief Justice remarked: "No law can stand another such strain." The test was not applied. Burns was the last man sent back to slavery by a Boston court.

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