Thomas Wentworth Higginson, January 1859

January, 1859

Barnum has been lecturing here, and sent me a copy of his life with a very good, manly letter. He has heard of some criticisms of mine he thought unjust. . . . I had met him at the W. W. Temperance Convention in New York. I have written him an equally frank reply, telling him that I admire some of his qualities and respect his pecuniary honesty and fidelity to engagements, and that I wish while priding himself on this, he could treat the public to a little truth also occasionally — that being, in my opinion, his one enormous sin.

. . . As for the result of my trial [Anthony Burns riot], I expect a disagreement of the jury. But I don't care much; I shouldn't regret the imprisonment for a few months except for Mary; it would be a good experience, help my influence, and give me a chance to write some things I should be glad to say. But I expect no such thing.

SOURCE: Mary Potter Thacher Higginson, Editor, Letters and Journals of Thomas Wentworth Higginson, 1846-1906, p. 80-1

Thomas Wentworth Higginson to Maria Weston Chapman, Thanksgiving Day, April 13, 1854

You are aware that the Burns case, or its consequences, cannot yet be regarded as over. Our trials on the State process have been constantly delayed by the pressure of cases under the liquor law (which by statute takes precedence of all others), and as those cases do not diminish, the District Attorney almost despairs of ever reaching ours, and would gladly throw them up if he with propriety could do so. The United States processes are only just being announced, in fact only two have yet been made public, and I do not yet know whether I shall come in for a share of those or not. We are all glad that Theodore Parker should be indicted; it must result in a triumph for him in any event, but it is absurd to suppose that a Massachusetts jury will find him guilty. I think this is no doubt the understanding of some on the Grand Jury who voted to file a bill against him; they knew that no harm would come to him and were unwilling that the antislavery excitement should be kept up, in this way.

You have seen in the “Liberator” the account of the Butman riot in this city; it was really a very remarkable affair — as genuine a popular exhibition as the mobbing of Haynau¹ by the London brewers. Only there was a sort of dramatic perfection about this; the entire disappearance of Butman's own friends leaving him to be literally and absolutely saved by abolitionists; the fortunate presence of just the right persons — Messrs. Hoar, Foster, Stowell, and myself — I mean the right persons dramatically speaking; this joined with the really narrow escape of the man and the thorough frightening of one who had frightened so many; — all these gave a tinge of romance to the whole thing, such as was perhaps never surpassed. It can be worked up better than was ever the Porteous² mob by some future Scott. You cannot conceive how frightened the poor wretch was.

. . . If Worcester frightens ex-kidnappers thus, you may imagine how it would be with those who shall pursue the profession.

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¹ Haynau was an Austrian officer who took part in the Napoleonic wars and who was noted for his great severity in putting down an insurrection in Brescia. In 1850 he made a tour of Europe, but his reputation for cruelty had preceded him, and in London he was assaulted and beaten by the employees of a brewery — “for which insult the British Government declined to give any satisfaction.”

² Readers of Scott's Heart of Midlothian will remember the wild mob which seized and executed Porteous, commander of the City Guard of Edinburgh.

SOURCE: Mary Potter Thacher Higginson, Editor, Letters and Journals of Thomas Wentworth Higginson, 1846-1906, p. 68-9

Samuel Gridley Howe to Horace Mann, Friday, June 18, 1854

South Boston, June 18th, 1854.

My Dear Mann: — I have sometimes been happy enough to get a glimpse of you through your letters to Downer — for you had in them, once in a while, a kind word for me. Yesterday, however, there was a hard one, — though I know not unkindly meant;—you said “out of sight out of mind;” et tu!! You have never been out of my mind — never out of my heart. I have not written simply because I had little or nothing to say, except that I love you, and that you know well enough.

We have gone through a terrible ordeal lately: a week of intense, painful, dreadful excitement. I saw the whole, from the broken door, the pointed pistols and the flashing cutlasses,¹ to the last sad funeral procession. During the latter I wept for sorrow, shame and indignation. Then, let me tell you (and I know enough of mobs to know it truly) — had it not been for the citizen soldiery and the armed citizen police, the people would have rushed upon the United States troops, disarmed and routed them and have rescued poor Burns. With a constable's pole in advance, — with a scrap of law as big as this sheet, — the people would, at any time, and against all obstacles, have done so. The fear of the law, — the fetish of law, disarmed and emasculated us.

The most interesting thing I saw in the crowd was a comely coloured girl of eighteen, who stood with clenched teeth and fists, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, — the very picture of indignant despair. I could not help saying, “do not cry, poor girl — he won't be hurt.” “Hurt!” said she, “I cry for shame that he will not kill himself! — oh! why is he not man enough to kill himself!” There was the intuition, the blind intuition of genius! — had he, then and there, struck a knife into his own heart, he would have killed outright the fugitive slave law in New England and the North.

As it is, poor Burns has been the cause of a great revolution: you have no idea of the change of feeling here. Think of Sam'l A. Eliot, the hard, plucky and “sort of honest”² Eliot, coming out for repeal of Nebraska or disunion!

Things are working well. God will get the upper hand of the Devil, even in Boston, soon. As for Loring — old Ned Loring,³ whom you loved, and whom for a while you boosted up on your shoulders into a moral atmosphere, he has sunk down, and will die in the darkness of despotic surroundings. I wrote to him, and talked with him before the decision; I have had a letter from him since, but it is a hard and heartless one. I have liked him much; and am loth to lose the last of my associates in that circle; but I must. If he is white, I am blacker than hell; if he is right, I am terribly wrong.

I think you should write to him. I have set going the enclosed address to him. Would it were better! but it is honest, and has cost me a pang and a tear. Goodbye, my pleasant old friend; if you are going up, I go down; and vice versa.

As for myself, dear Mann, I am very much as I was. In health no better, nor worse. In spirits at zero. In hopes for myself, nothing beyond happiness reflected through that of my dear children. They are, thank God, always well and jolly. They never know an ache or a pain; are industrious, affectionate, obedient, truthful, and very bright.

Let me hear from you, do! Shall I never see you? ah — I do not like to think of turning my face to the wall, and going away from earth without again grasping your hand. I'll try not to do so.

With kind regards to Madame, ever, dear Mann, yours,

S. G. Howe.

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¹ The attack on the Court House to rescue Anthony Burns.

² In reading these letters, allowance must be made for the intense feeling of the time. I cannot verify this quotation, but Mr. Eliot's honesty admitted of no qualification.

³ Judge E. G. Loring, who decreed the return of Burns to slavery. The feeling against him became so strong that he was obliged to leave Boston and take up his residence in Washington.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 269-71

Samuel Gridley Howe to Theodore Parker, May 1854

Monday, May, 1854.¹

My Dear Parker: — Your words of Saturday have been like live coals in my vitals. I started to go in yesterday, but was too ill to get to your house. I have long made up my mind not to avoid a struggle and a conflict with the myrmidons of this infernal law, but I cannot make it up to seek one. Perhaps my children are the beams in the eye of my reason.

Something must be attempted; but I think not here in Boston, for it will be useless. But it may be attempted with hope of success, on the passage towards the South. I should say in New York City. A dozen resolute men, awaiting his arrival there, can rescue him; a thousand cannot do it here. I shall try to find you.

S. G. HOWE.

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¹ Before the attempted rescue of Burns.

SOURCE: Laura E. Richards, Editor, Letters and Journals of Samuel Gridley Howe, Volume 2, p. 268-9

Anthony Burns

BURNS, Anthony, fugitive slave, b. in Virginia about 1830; d. in St. Catharines, Canada, 27 July, 1862. He effected his escape from slavery in Virginia, and was at work in Boston in the winter of 1853-'4. On 23 May, 1854, the U. S. house of representatives passed the Kansas-Nebraska bill repealing the Missouri compromise, and permitting the extension of negro slavery, which had been restricted since 1820. The news caused great indignation throughout the free states, especially in Boston, where the anti-slavery party had its headquarters. Just at this crisis Burns was arrested by U. S. Marshal Watson Freeman, under the provisions of the fugitive-slave act, on a warrant sworn out by Charles F. Suttle. He was confined in the Boston court-house under a strong guard, and on 25 May was taken before U. S. Commissioner Loring for examination. Through the efforts of Wendell Phillips and Theodore Parker, an adjournment was secured to 27 May, and in the mean time a mass-meeting was called at Faneuil hall, and the U. S. marshal summoned a large posse of extra deputies, who were armed and stationed in and about the court-house to guard against an expected attempt at the rescue of Burns. The meeting at Faneuil hall was addressed by the most prominent men of Boston, and could hardly be restrained from adjourning in a body to storm the court-house. While this assembly was in session, a premature attempt to rescue Burns was made under the leadership of Thomas W. Higginson. A door of the courthouse was battered in, one of the deputies was killed in the fight, and Col. Higginson and others of the assailants were wounded. A call for re-enforcements was sent to Faneuil hall, but in the confusion it never reached the chairman. On the next day the examination was held before Commissioner Loring, Richard H. Dana and Charles M. Ellis appearing for the prisoner. The evidence showed that Burns was amenable under the law, and his surrender to his master was ordered. When the decision was made known, many houses were draped in black, and the state of popular feeling was such that the government directed that the prisoner be sent to Virginia on board the revenue cutter “Morris.” He was escorted to the wharf by a strong guard, through streets packed with excited crowds. At the wharf the tumult seemed about to culminate in riot, when the Rev. Daniel Foster (who was killed in action early in the civil war) exclaimed, “Let us pray!” and silence fell upon the multitude, who stood with uncovered heads, while Burns was hurried on board the cutter. A more impressively dramatic ending, or one more characteristic of an excited but law-abiding and God-fearing New England community, could hardly be conceived for this famous case. Burns afterward studied at Oberlin college, and eventually became a Baptist minister, and settled in Canada, where, during the closing years of his life, he presided over a congregation of his own color. See “Anthony Burns, A History,” by C. E. Stevens (Boston, 1854).

SOURCE: James Grant Wilson & John Fiske, Editors, Appleton's Cyclopædia of American Biography, Volume 1, p. 460