There they remained until Friday, when nearly fifty of them, having been purchased by the infamous [slave trader] Hope H. Slatter, who headed the mob at the jail on Tuesday, were taken … to the railroad depot, and from thence to Baltimore, destined for sale in the far south, there to drag out a miserable existence upon the cotton and sugar plantations of that slave-consuming region.
The scene at the depot is represented as one which would have disgraced the city of Algiers or Tunis: Wives bidding adieu to their husbands, mothers in an agony of despair, unable to bid farewell to their daughters; little boys and girls weeping amid the general distress, scarcely knowing the cause of their grief. Sighs and groans and tears and unutterable agony, characterized a scene at which the heart sickens, and from which humanity shrinks with horror.
Over such a scene that fiend in human shape, Slatter, presided, assisted by some three or four associates in depravity, each armed with pistols, Bowie-knife, and club. Yes, sir, by virtue of our laws he held these mothers and children, these sisters and brothers, subject to his power, and tore them from the ties which bind mankind to life, and carried them south, and doomed them to cruel and lingering deaths.
Sir, do you believe that those members of this body, who stubbornly refused to repeal those laws, are less guilty in the sight of a just and holy God than Slatter himself? We, sir, enable him to pursue this accursed vocation. Can we be innocent of those crimes? How long will members of this House continue thus to outrage humanity?
Congressman Joshua R. Giddings (1795–1864) represented Ohio’s 16th district. He was an outspoken opponent of slavery.
INDICTED
Later that day, a jailer escorted Drayton downstairs to an office where two justices of the peace, Hampton C. Williams and John H. Goddard, were prepared to hold court. They had decided to conduct official business inside the jail because they considered it too dangerous to move the accused over to the courthouse.
Before the proceedings began, United States District Attorney Philip Barton Key told Drayton’s attorney that he should leave the jail and go home immediately, because the people outside were furious and he risked his life by representing Drayton. Unruffled, Hall replied that things had come to a pretty pass if a man no longer had the privilege of safely speaking with his counsel.
The grand jury, under the instructions of the district attorney, handed up 74 indictments against each of the prisoners. During the proceedings, the justices of the peace charged Drayton, Sayres, and Chester English with stealing and transporting slaves and fixed bail at $1,000 for each runaway aboard the Pearl, or $76,000 for each of the accused.
The district attorney wanted to find the men guilty of a penitentiary offense in addition to levying a fine, so he employed an arcane 1737 Maryland statute that provided that any person who steals a slave shall “suffer death as a felon and be excluded the benefit of clergy.” A modification of the law in 1831 changed the punishment from death to confinement in a penitentiary for not less than 20 years.
Neither Drayton nor Sayres could come up with the money needed to post bail, so they remained in the Washington City Jail to wait for their trials to begin. Drayton did his best to make prison life tolerable. Nothing could be done to improve the fact that his small stone cell had no direct sunlight and poor ventilation, but after about six weeks he was able to obtain an old mattress to place on the hard floor. A sympathetic cook sometimes gave him extra food on the side, but he found the basic prison food unappetizing. As a prisoner, Drayton received two meals a day: breakfast, consisting of one herring, corn bread, coffee, and a dish of molasses; and dinner, a second helping of corn bread, half a pound of salted beef, and a soup made of cornmeal. No fresh fruit or seasoned vegetables were served. In fact, the menu remained the same, day after day, month after month.
To make time pass faster, Drayton worked on self-improvement. When he first entered the jail, he could read reasonably well and he could sign his name, but he could not write in complete sentences. While he was incarcerated, he practiced writing and he read the newspaper whenever he could borrow a copy.
He also had time to think. Rather than weakening his resolve, Drayton’s time in prison taught him to appreciate his freedom, and living without liberty strengthened his conviction that slavery was wrong.
This portrait of Capt. Daniel Drayton was used to illustrate his 1853 book, Personal Memoir of Daniel Drayton, for Four Years and Four Months a Prisoner (for Charity’s Sake) in a Washington Jail.
THE TRIAL
Although the escape on the Pearl involved a single event, Drayton and Sayres were indicted on 110 separate charges: 36 larceny indictments for stealing from the 36 people who owned slaves on the Pearl, as well as the 74 grand jury indictments for transporting slaves. The charges against English were dropped in exchange for his testimony against the captains. If convicted on all counts, each of the men could have been sentenced to more than 800 years in prison. (The number of enslaved people reported to be involved in the case changed several times: 77 runaways boarded the Pearl, but bail was set based on 76 fugitives, and the grand jury handed down indictments for 74. The record does not explain the changing number, but it is possible that some of the enslaved people were later found to be free.)
The first trial against Drayton began on July 27, 1848. That day the temperature soared above 90 degrees and the high humidity made the air in the packed courtroom oppressive, even with the windows open for ventilation. The first case involved the escape of two enslaved men, Joe and Frank, who were the property of Andrew Hoover, the 47-year-old owner of a shoe factory and retail store. The district attorney argued that Drayton stole the men and intended to take them to the West Indies to sell them, although he did not explain why Drayton would have set off in an undersized boat that was not capable of sailing in the open ocean.
During the trial, Drayton’s attorney attempted to call Joe and Frank as witnesses, but the judge ruled that the men did not have the right to testify in a District of Columbia court. Instead, the defense attorney called Hoover, who admitted under oath that no one had broken into his house; the property—the two enslaved men—had walked away on their own. If they left of their own volition, how could Drayton be found guilty of stealing them?
The case went to the jury at 3 p.m. When the court reconvened the following day at 10 a.m., the jury had not made a decision. Four members of the jury hesitated to convict Drayton, but the others eventually pressured the holdouts to change their minds. After 24 hours of deliberation, the verdict was in: Drayton was guilty.
Drayton wasn’t surprised by the verdict, but he still wondered: How could he be found guilty of stealing something that cannot be owned? How can one man own another, any more than he can own the sea or the sky or the stars?
One case followed another during legal maneuverings that lasted almost one year. Ultimately, Sayres was cleared of all larceny charges and convicted of 74 counts of transporting slaves; he was fined $7,400, or $100 for each conviction. Drayton was convicted of two counts of larceny and 74 counts of transporting slaves. The judge fined him $10,360, or $140 for each transporting conviction, a greater fine than Sayres’s because he was deemed more responsible for the crimes. Drayton was also sentenced to 20 years at hard labor for the larceny convictions. Both men were to remain in jail until the fines were paid, which, as far as Drayton was concerned, meant that they would be imprisoned for life.
In November 1848, Drayton appealed his larceny convictions before a three-judge panel of the District of Columbia Circuit Court. On February 19, 1849, judges William Cranch, James Morsell, and James Dunlop struck down the decision, ruling that for Drayton’s larceny conviction to stand, he would have had to profit from the escape. With these charges overturned, the 20-year jail sentence was dropped, although he still had to remain in prison until he could pay the outstanding fines.
FOURTEEN
A Radical Education
AFEW WEEKS AFTER Emily and Mary Edmonson were freed, Rev. Henry Beecher i
nvited the young women to visit New York City so that they could personally thank their benefactors. He also planned a second rally on their behalf, hoping to raise money for their education. Emily and Mary accepted Beecher’s invitation, excited to have a chance to thank those who had been so generous to them. On the trip, they were escorted by abolitionist William Chaplin, who had helped coordinate their release and took them to the ministers who had sponsored the first rally and contributed toward their ransom.
On the night of December 7, the hall at the Broadway Tabernacle was again filled with many of the same people who had helped raise the ransom for the girls weeks before. When the program started, the Rev. Samuel H. Cox, from the First Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn, took the podium and told the audience that he had been impressed with the gratitude and good manners shown by Emily and Mary, noting that he could not have expected better manners from the daughters of Queen Victoria of England.
Beecher took the podium and congratulated the crowd for having been so generous in the past. He introduced Emily and Mary, and the girls felt eyes—thousands of eyes—focusing on them, staring, pitying, judging, wondering what their suffering must have been like. Beecher held Emily and Mary’s bill of sale over his head, waving it in the air, saying it was wrong to sell people as if they were animals.
As he spoke, Beecher’s words became more radical and inflammatory. “Slavery is a state of suppressed war,” he said. “The slave is justified in regarding his master as a belligerent enemy and in seizing him from whatever reprisals are necessary to aid him in effecting a retreat.”
Emily had never heard such strong words about slavery before—certainly never from a preacher, never from the pulpit. Were his words true? Did enslaved people have the power to resist authority and run away?
When the audience seemed enthusiastic and responsive, Beecher called for contributions to establish an education fund for Emily and Mary. He urged the crowd to help them prepare for a life of usefulness, noting that they wanted to become teachers so that they could educate other black Americans.
The plate was passed, but this time few contributed.
Now that they were free, Emily and Mary had begun to recognize new possibilities in their lives. They were both eager to learn to read and then to teach. Emily knew that she would not let this lack of financial support stop her; she would find a way to learn to read and write and complete her education. Beecher tried, but even he could not make an appeal for the sisters’ education fund as exciting as the appeal to save them from the chains of slavery.
This is the only known photograph featuring the Edmonson sisters alone. Mary is standing with her hand on Emily’s shoulder.
Beecher did not want to accept defeat. He called for a second meeting at the Broadway Tabernacle a week later, but that crowd proved no more supportive. Many abolitionists did not consider black people to be their social or intellectual equals, even though they did favor ending slavery.
BOARDING SCHOOL
Even after they were freed, Chaplin continued to support Emily and Mary. He believed that they put a sympathetic face on the abuses of slavery, and that citizens in the North would object to slavery if they knew the kind of people who were held in bondage. He covered their educational expenses and made arrangements for the girls to move to upstate New York to live and study in the homes of several leading abolitionists, including Gerrit Smith and William R. Smith. Little is known about their early education, except that the girls excelled in their studies. By the fall of 1849 they were ready to attend New York Central College, a school run by abolitionists in McGrawville, New York.
For a time, the girls also stayed in the Syracuse home of Jermain Loguen, a runaway slave from Tennessee. Though surviving records don’t describe details of the time they spent with Loguen, he was known to be a bold and fearless conductor on the Underground Railroad, the network of secret routes and safe houses used by runaway slaves during their escape to northern free states or Canada. Conductors sheltered fugitives and guided them from station to station, typically at night. Loguen operated his station so openly that he sometimes advertised in the newspaper that he offered assistance to runaway slaves. During the time they spent with Loguen, Emily and Mary almost certainly helped shelter and support fugitive slaves on their way to freedom.
Jermain Wesley Loguen (1813–1872) ran away from slavery at age 21. He eventually settled in Syracuse, New York, where he opened his house to slaves on the Underground Railroad. In 1859, he wrote his autobiography, The Rev. J. W. Loguen, as a Slave and as a Freeman, a Narrative of Real Life.
BECOMING ABOLITIONISTS
In Loguen’s home, slavery wasn’t only personal, it was political. He not only assisted individual runaways, he also dedicated himself to changing public policy. In addition to their academic work, Emily and Mary often attended antislavery rallies with Loguen and other abolitionists. They lived in a household that discussed current events and politics, so they became familiar with the proposed Fugitive Slave Act, as well as legislation pending in Congress in 1850 that involved the spread of slavery into the new territories and states in the west. The act would give slave owners and their agents almost unlimited power to travel north to track down and reclaim runaway slaves. The law would also subject those who assisted fugitive slaves to fines of up to $1,000 and six months of jail time.
While Emily and Mary were legally free in both the North and the South, they were distraught that their good friend Loguen and other runaway slaves would be in jeopardy if the Fugitive Slave Act passed. For decades, Loguen had lived in the North as a free man, raising his family and serving as a minister. Passage of the new Fugitive Slave Act would mean that he could be uprooted and enslaved, captured and returned to his owner in Tennessee. Anyone who helped protect him—including Mary and Emily—could be fined and imprisoned.
This lithograph, titled “Effects of the Fugitive Slave Law,” includes two texts at the bottom. The first quotation comes from Deuteronomy: “Thou shalt not deliver unto the master his servant which has escaped from his master unto thee. He shall dwell with thee. Even among you in that place which he shall choose in one of thy gates where it liketh him best. Thou shalt not oppress him.” The second quote is from the Declaration of Independence: “We hold that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Antislavery activists sold prints like this one to raise funds to promote their cause. The artist, Theodore Kaufmann (1814 – 1896), was a German immigrant and dedicated abolitionist.
In the summer of 1850, Loguen planned to attend a convention in Cazenovia, New York, to protest the proposed act, and he invited Emily and Mary to join him. The girls accepted and were delighted to find out that their old friend and supporter Chaplin was planning to attend the convention as well. They had learned so much since they saw him last; what would he think of them now?
The Fugitive Slave Act and the Compromise of 1850
By the middle of the 19th century, the slavery issue demanded Congressional action. Most northern congressmen wanted Texas, New Mexico, and the land in the Southwest claimed in the Mexican-American War to be free of slavery, and, of course, most southern legislators wanted to spread slavery into these new territories. After extensive debates and discussions, Congress reached a compromise, known, appropriately, as the Compromise of 1850. It held that:
• California, where the Gold Rush was in full force, would be a free state;
• Texas would give up its claim to New Mexico and other territorial land in exchange for debt relief;
• The other former Mexican lands, including the Utah and New Mexico Territories, would be divided between free and slave;
• The buying and selling of slaves would be prohibited in Washington, D.C., although slave-owning states would remain legal and slave traders could continue to do business across the river in Virginia;
• The Fugitive Slave Act would be enacted.
This act gave slaveholders almost unlimited power to track down and capture runaway slaves in the northern free states. It required federal marshals and other law enforcement officers to assist in the return of runaway slaves based only on the word of the claimant. It also made it illegal to assist fugitive slaves, with a penalty of up to a $1,000 fine and six months in prison. Suspected slaves had no right to jury trial or to testify or present evidence on their own behalf.
The Compromise consisted of five separate bills, all of which were passed in September 1850.
FIFTEEN
Chaplin’s Surrender
AFEW WEEKS BEFORE the Cazenovia Convention, William Chaplin was in Washington, D.C., working with other abolitionists to defeat the Fugitive Slave Act. As part of a flamboyant plot designed to draw attention to the cause, Chaplin planned to arrive in Cazenovia with two runaway slaves hidden in his private two-horse carriage. To make the ploy even more worthy of news coverage, the slaves he planned to smuggle north belonged to Congressmen Robert Toombs and Alexander H. Stephens, both of Georgia.
On the appointed night, Chaplin drove his carriage down Seventh Street and out of Washington with the two fugitives, Allen and Garland, hidden in the back of his carriage. Although the specifics are unknown, someone alerted John Goddard of Washington’s auxiliary guard to the plan. Goddard and six other men (four police officers and two civilian slave catchers) were waiting to ambush Chaplin and the runaways on their way out of town. As Chaplin crossed the Maryland state line, Goddard and his men leaped from the shadows and thrust a heavy wooden rail into one of the carriage wheels to stop it.
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