The Underground Railroad
The Case of Euphemia Williams
CLAIMED AS A FUGITIVE SLAVE UNDER THE FUGITIVE SLAVE-LAW AFTER HAVING LIVED IN PENNSYLVANIA FOR MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS.
Scarcely had the infamous statute been in existence six months, ere the worst predictions of the friends of the slave were fulfilled in different Northern States. It is hardly too much to say, that Pennsylvania was considered wholly unsafe to nine-tenths of her colored population. The kidnapper is fully shown in the case of Rachel and Elizabeth Parker as he appeared on the soil of Pennsylvania, doing his vile work in the dead of night, entering the homes of unprotected females and children, therefore:
The case of Euphemia Williams will serve to represent the milder form of kidnapping in open day, in the name of the law, by professed Christians in the city of Brotherly Love, and the home of William Penn.
February 6, 1851, Euphemia Williams, the mother of six children, the youngest at the breast, was arrested in the upper part of the city (Philadelphia), and hurried before Edward D. Ingraham, a United States commissioner, upon the charge of being a fugitive from labor. She was claimed by William T.J. Purnell, of Worcester county, Maryland, who admitted that she had been away from him for twenty-two years, or since 1829. Her offspring were born on the soil of Pennsylvania, and the eldest daughter was seventeen years of age.
Euphemia was living in her own house, and had been a member of church, in good and regular standing, for about seventeen years, and was about forty years of age. When the arrest was made, Euphemia had just risen from her bed, and was only partly dressed, when a little after daylight, several persons entered her room, and arrested her. Murder! murder! was cried lustily, and awakened the house. Her children screamed lamentably, and her eldest daughter cried “They’ve got my mother! they’ve got my mother!” “For God’s sake, save me,” cried Euphemia, to a woman in the second story, who was an eye-witness to this monstrous outrage. But despite the piteous appeals of the mother and children, the poor woman was hastened into a cab, and borne to the marshall’s office.
Through the vigilance of J.M. McKim and Passmore Williamson, a writ of habeas corpus returnable forthwith was obtained at about one o’clock. The heart-broken mother was surrounded by five of her children, three of whom were infants. It was a dark and dreadful hour. When her children were brought into the room where she was detained, great drops of sweat standing on her face plainly indicated her agony.
By mutual arrangement between the claimants and the prisoner’s counsel the hearing was fixed for the next day, at the hour of three o’clock. According to said arrangement, at three o’clock Euphemia was brought face to face with her claimant, William T.J. Purnell. The news had already gone out that the trial would come off at the time fixed; hence a multitude were on hand to witness the proceedings in the case. The sympathy of anti-slavery ladies was excited, and many were present in the court-room to manifest their feelings in behalf of the stricken woman. The eloquent David Paul Brown (the terror of slave-hunters) and William S. Pierce, Esqrs., appeared for Euphemia, R.C. McMurtrie, Esq., for the claimant.
Mr. McMurtrie in the outset, arose and said, that it was with extreme regret that he saw an attempt to influence the decision of this case by tumult and agitation. The sympathy shown by so many friendly ladies, was not a favorable sign for the slave-holder. Notwithstanding, Mr. McMurtrie said that he would “prove that Mahala, sometimes called Mahala Purnell, was born and bred a slave of Dr. George W. Purnell, of Worcester county, Maryland, who was in the habit of hiring her to the neighbors, and while under a contract of hiring, she escaped with a boy, with whom she had taken up, belonging to the person who hired her.” The present claimant claimed her as the administrator of Dr. George W. Purnell.
In order to sustain this claim many witnesses and much positive swearing were called forth. Robert F. Bowen, the first witness, swore that he knew both Mahala and her master perfectly well, that he had worked as a carpenter in helping to build a house for the latter, and also had hired the former directly from her owner.
Definite time and circumstances were all harmoniously fixed by this leading witness. One of the important circumstances which afforded him ground for being positive was, as he testified on cross-examination, that he was from home at a camp-meeting (when she run away); “our camp-meetings,” said the witness, “are held in the last of August or the first of September; the year I fix by founding it upon knowledge; the year before she ran away, I professed religion; I have something at home to fix the year; she was with me a part of a year. I hired her for the year 1848 as a house servant; I hired her directly from Dr. George W. Purnell. When she ran away I proceeded after her. I advertised, in Delaware in written advertisements, in Georgetown, Milford and Millsborough, and described her and the boy; her general features. I have not the advertisement and can’t tell how she was described; Dr. George Purnell united with me in the advertisement. I followed her to Delaware City; that’s all I have done since, about inquiring after them. I came, after twenty-two years’ absence, to seek my own rights, and as an evidence for my friend. I have not seen her more than once since she ran away, until she was arrested; I saw her two or three times in court. I saw her first in a wretched-looking room, at Fifth and Germantown Road; it was yesterday morning; it was the evening before at Congress Hall; I arrived here last Tuesday a week; a man told me where she was”—”I beg the court,”—here Mr. McMurtrie interposed an objection to his mentioning the person. The court, however, said the question could be put.
Witness.—I was pledged not to tell the name; the person signed her name Louisa Truit; the information was got by letter; the reason I did not tell, because I thought she might be murdered; I have not the letters, and can’t tell the contents; the letter that I received required a pledge that I would not tell: I was directed to send my letter to the post-office without any definite place; the representative of Louisa Truit was a man; I saw him in Market street between Third and Fourth, at Taylor and Paulding’s store, in the course of last week; I was brought into contact with the representative of Louisa by appointment in the letter, to get the information; I never heard him tell his name; he was neither colored nor white; we call them with us mixed blood; (I should take you to be colored, said the witness to Mr. Brown.) I suppose he lives somewhere up there; I saw him at my room the next morning; I did not learn from him who wrote the letter; he did not describe the person of the woman in the letter written to me, only her general appearance; Purnell said he burnt the letter.
Mr. Brown demanded the letter, or the proof of its destruction.
I never wrote myself, but my friend, Mr. Henry did; he said so; I never received a letter; it was written to Robert J. Henry; part of the letter was written to me, but not directed to me; the Louisa Truit, who wrote, stated, that for the information he wanted $100 for one of the fugitives; he was referred to the store of Taylor & Paulding, and Mr. Henry would meet him there; when I got to the store, some of the concern let Mr. Henry know that a man wanted to see him; I heard this at the store; the man was there; he was a mulatto man, middle-aged, and middling tall; he is not here, that I know of; can’t tell when I last saw him. His name I understood to be Gloucester.
Under the severe cross-examination that the witness had been subjected to under D.P. Brown, he became very faint, and called for water. Large drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and he was obliged to sit down, lest he should fall down. “Take a seat,” said Mr. Brown tauntingly, “and enjoy yourself, while I proceed with my interrogations.” But the witness was completely used up, and was allowed to withdraw to another room, where fresh air was more plentiful. The cause of the poor slave woman was greatly strengthened by this failure.
Another witness, named Zachariah Bowen, for the claimants, swore positively that he knew the prisoner well, that she had been hired to his brother for three years by Dr. Purnell, whose slave she was; also he swore that he knew her parents, who were slaves to the said Doctor P.; that he last saw her in 1827, etc. On cross-examination he swore thus: “I last saw her in 1827, she was about sixteen or seventeen; she was about an ordinary size, not the smallest size, nor the largest; she was neither thick nor thin; there was nothing remarkable in her more than is common; nothing in her speech; she was about the same color as the woman here; I never saw a great deal of change in a nigger, from sixteen to thirty-five or forty, sometimes they grow fatter, and sometimes leaner. As to recognizing her in Philadelphia, he had not the slightest difficulty. He went on to swear, that he first saw her in a cab, in the city; I knew her yesterday; if you could see the rest of the family you could pick her out yourself in thirty: I knew her by her general favor, and have no particular mark; I would not attempt to describe features; her favor is familiar to me; I never saw any marks upon her.”
Here Mr. Brown said he would not examine this witness further until he had concluded the examination of the witness, who had become sick. The court then adjourned till nine o’clock the next morning.
The avenues to the court were filled with anxious persons, and in the front and rear of the state house the crowd was very great.
The next morning, at an early hour, the court-room, and all the avenues to it were densely crowded by people interested in behalf of the woman whose case was under trial. A large number of respectable ladies formed a part of the large gathering.
Robert F. Bowen, the witness, who became sick, was recalled.
Witness.—”I saw the colored person, who gave the information, the next evening; after I saw him in Market street, at Congress Hall, in our room; the gentleman who keeps the hotel we did not wish to place under any responsibility, as he might be accused of carrying on the business. (Of kidnapping, suggested Mr. Brown.) No, said witness, that is what you call it; the woman would have run away if it had gone out; I heard his name was Gloucester, that gave the information; I saw him three times; once on the street; I have never been in his house; I have been to a house where I heard he lived; I gave a pledge not to disclose the matter; I made a personal pledge to Gloucester in our room last week at Congress Hall; he said he was afraid of being abused by the population of his own color for telling that this girl run away from Dr. Purnell; I understood that Louisa Truit was Gloucester’s wife.”
Under this searching cross-examination, Mr. Brown constrained him not only to tell all and more than he knew in favor of his friend, the claimant, but wrung from him the secrets which he stood pledged never to disclose.
Witness.—”I know no marks; she was in the condition of a married woman when she left me; it was the particular favor of her father and mother that made me recognize her; nothing else; she was pretty well built for her size.”
While this witness remembered every thing so accurately occurring in relation to the life and escape of the girl of sixteen, and was prepared to swear to her identity simply “by her favor,” as he termed it, he was found sadly deficient in memory touching the owner, whom he had known much longer, and more intimately than he had the girl, as will be seen from the following facts in this witness’ testimony:
Witness.—”I don’t know when Dr. P. died; I can’t tell the year; I should suppose about fourteen years ago; I was at the funeral, and helped to make his coffin; it was in the fall, I think; it was after the camp-meeting I spoke of; at that time I went regularly, but not of late; I have no certain recollection of the year he died; I kept a record of the event of my conversion, and have referred to it often. It has been a reference every year, and perhaps a thousand times a year; it was in the Bible, and I was in the habit of looking into it; I was in the habit of turning over the leaves of this precious book; I think it was eighteen years ago; can’t say I’m certain; can’t say it was more than twelve years; Dr. P. left six children; two remain in our country, and one in Louisiana, and the one, who is here, making four; I have no interest in the fugitive; I made no contract in regard to this case; there was an offer; are you waiting for an answer? the offer was this, that I was to come on after my fugitive, and if I did not get him they were to pay my expenses; I hesitated about coming; it was a long time before I made up my mind; they said they would pay my expenses if I didn’t succeed in getting mine out of prison.”
In this way the above witness completely darkened counsel, and added to the weakness of his cause in a marked degree.
THE OVERSEER IS NOW EXAMINED.
Zachariah Bowen recalled.—”I didn’t come here on any terms; I hardly understand what you mean by terms; I made no contract; I came upon my own book; there was no contract; I have no expectations; I don’t know that Dr. P. ever manumitted any female slaves; I never knew that she was in the family way when she ran away; I heard of it about that time; she ran off in the fall of 1828. Dr. P. told me so; in the fall of 1828; in 1825, ’26, ’27, she lived with my brother; in 1825 I lived there; in 1827 and ’28 I lived with Dr. P. I moved there and was overseer for him; I was overseer for fifteen years for him; two years at his house; I ceased to be his overseer in 1841, I think; he was living in 1841; I am certain of that year, I think; Dr. Purnell died in 1844, I feel certain; I said to Mr. Purnell that I did not know what ailed the other Mr. Bowen, for the doctor died in 1844; he died in the latter part of the Spring of 1844; Mr. Bowen made a mistake in saying it was eighteen years ago; if you recall him he will rectify the mistake, I think; several slaves escaped from Dr. Purnell; a boy, that lived with my brother, ran away in 1827; the others were not hired to my brother; I don’t know that I could tell the exact time, nor the year; the doctor used to say to us, there is another of my niggers ran away; the reason that I can tell when Mahala ran away, is because she took a husband and ran away; I was married that year; the reason I cannot tell about the others is, because they went at different times in five years; the first who ran away before Mahala, was named Grace; she went in 1827; I don’t know when the last went, or who it was.”
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Gloucester said they had raised a mob on him, on account of this case, and he would have to leave the city; the case of this woman or these proceedings was not spoken of there; he staid but a short time; he said one of the witnesses had betrayed him in court, yesterday, and they attacked him last night; I asked him how he escaped from so many; he said very few were in the city who could outrun him; I asked him where he was going, he replied he had a notion to put for Canada; some of the gentlemen proposed his going to Baltimore; he said that would not do, as the laws of Maryland would catch him; he was going to get a boat and go to New Jersey, and then to New York; Mr. Purnell gave him just thirty-five dollars last night; he paused a while, and Mr. P. told him to hand it back; he then took out his money and put some more to it, and said: “Here is fifty dollars.” Mr. P. said that if he got the slave he would leave fifty dollars more with a person in the city.
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Question by the judge.—”You have spoken of a conversation in which Mr. P. told you of certain letters or correspondence, and that they had reference to this alleged fugitive. I want you to give me, to the best of your recollection, everything he said the letters contained.”
Witness.—Mr. P. told me when he first mentioned it to me, he said that he was going to mention something to me, that he did not want anything said, in regard to some negroes that had run away from his father; he said he wanted me to come on here, and he did not want me to tell any person before we left our county; that if the negroes heard of it, they could get information to the parties before he could get here; I told him I would not tell any person except my wife; he then said he had correspondence with a person here, for a month or two, and he had no doubt but that several of his negroes were here, from what he had heard from his correspondent; he asked me if I could recognize the favor of this Mahala? I told him I didn’t know; he then said if anybody would know her, I would, as she had lived with my brother three years; he then said that he would want to start the next week, but he would see me again at that time; that was all he said at that time, only we turned into a hotel, and he said don’t breathe this to anybody; on Saturday before we left home, he came to my house, and said: well, I shall want you to start for Philadelphia, on Monday morning; I suppose you will go? I told him I would rather not, if he could do without out me; but as I told him before, I would go, if he still requested it. I would go; that’s all, sir, except that I said I would be along in the stage.
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J.T. Hammond was then called, a young man who admitted he had never seen the respondent till he came to the court-house, but was ready to swear that he would have known her by her resemblance to Dr. Purnell’s set of negroes. “His whole set?” said Mr. Brown. “Yes, sir.” (Derisive laughter).
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Mr. McMurtrie offered to prove, by persons who had known the two witnesses who had testified in this case, from their youth, that they were respectable and worthy men. D.P. Brown, said that if the gentleman found it necessary to sustain his witnesses’ reputation, in consequence of the peculiar dilemma they had got into, he would object, and if he supposed that he was about to contradict them in some point in the defence, he certainly was right, but as the case could not be concluded to-day, he would like to have the matter adjourned over until Tuesday next.
Mr. McMurtrie objected, by saying, that his client was anxious to have the matter disposed of as soon as possible, as he had been subjected to numerous insults since the matter had been before the court.
Judge Kane intimated that no weight was to be attached to this consideration, as the full power of the court was at his disposal for the purpose of protecting his client from insult.
Mr. McMurtrie replied that he did not know whether words spoken came within the meaning of the act of Congress, in such matters.
The court took a recess until a quarter to three o’clock.
The court met again at a quarter to three o’clock.
Mr. McMurtrie asked that the witnesses for the defence be excluded from the court room, except the one upon the stand.
This was objected to by Mr. Brown, as the witnesses for the prosecution had not been required so to do; but he afterwards withdrew his objections, and notified Mr. McMurtrie that he would require any witnesses he might have in addition, should retire also; as he would object to any of them being heard if they remained.
The Defence.—Mr. Pierce opened the case by saying that the testimony for the defence would be clear and conclusive; that the witnesses for the prosecution are mistaken in the identity of the alleged fugitive. That at the time they allege her to have been in Maryland, on the plantation of Dr. Purnell, she was in Chester county, and in the year Lafayette visited this country, she was in this city. He would confine the testimony exclusively to these two counties, and show that she is not the alleged slave.
Henry C. Cornish, sworn. I live in this city, and am a shoemaker; I came here in the year 1830; before that I lived in Chester county, East Whiteland township, with Wm. Latta; my father lived with Mr. Latta six or eight years; I lived there three years before that time, and was familiar with the place for more than six years before 1830; I saw the alleged fugitive some five years before 1830, at George Amos’, in Uwchland township, some eight or ten miles from our house; I fix the time from a meeting being held on the Valley Hill by a minister, named Nathan D. Tierney; that must have been in 1825; I am positive it was before the beginning of the year 1828; I have not the least doubt; I joined church about that time; it was the first of my uniting with the church; it was in 1825; I joined the Methodist Episcopal Church; before they built a church they held meetings alternately at people’s houses; I met her at Amos’ house, I recollect my father going to dig the foundation of the church: I saw her there before the church was built; I knew her before she was married; and since I left there I have met her at the annual meetings of the church; I have kept up the acquaintance ever since; I knew that she had two children, that were buried as long as twenty-one or twenty-two years ago; if the boy had lived he would have been twenty-three or twenty-four years old; he was the oldest; she was not married when I first saw her in 1827; she did not appear to be anything but a girl, and was not married, and she of course could not be in the condition of a married woman; I was not at her wedding; if I had not continued to know her, I would not now know her; she was then a small person; age and flesh would change her a little; her complexion has not changed; I think she worked for Mrs. Amos; a church record is now kept very correct; but when I first went into the church, colored men could not read and write; I acted as the clerk of the church; I united with the church after I first saw her; I have seen her very often since I left Chester; five hundred times to speak safely; I worship down town and she up in Brown street; to the best of my recollection they moved over Schuylkill about twelve years ago; she has lived here about nine years; she has six children, I have heard; I have seen five; the oldest is eighteen or nineteen; the youngest a sucking babe; I have visited her house since I have been here; I was not sent for by my uncle, who was employed by Joseph Smith & Co., next to the Girard Bank; I was with Edward Biddle for four years, until he was elected President of the Morris Canal and Banking Company, and then I went to learn shoemaking under instructions, since which time I have been in business for myself; my father burnt limestone for Mr. Latta; he and his wife are dead; I was there a day or two ago for witnesses to testify in this case.
Cross-examined.—I was born in 1814, and am thirty-seven years of age; when I first knew her I suppose she was fifteen years old; she was married about three years afterwards; her husband’s name is Micajah Williams; I heard he was in prison for stealing; her name before marriage was Phamie Coates; I didn’t know her husband before they were married; don’t know whether they came from Maryland; I never knew of Mahala Richardson before last evening in court; the difference in her appearance is a natural one, that every body is acquainted with; I mean that a little boy is not a man, and a growing girl is not a woman; age and flesh and size make a difference; if I had not conversed with her during the twenty-one years, I would not have known her; I never changed a word with her about the case, except to say I was sorry to see her here; I knew her the moment I saw her; her arrest could not have been in the newspapers of the morning as she was not arrested until seven o’clock that day; I went to Chester to look for witnesses; I came to the court because I am a vigilant man, and my principle is to save any person whose liberty is in danger; I had heard that a woman was arrested; her business is to get work wherever she can.
Deborah Ann Boyer, sworn. I was thirty-three last January; I live within one mile of West Chester; I am a married woman; I have lived there since 1835. I went there with my mother; I can read; I have seen the alleged fugitive before this; I first knew her at Downingtown, when she came to my mother’s house; that was before I had gone to West Chester with my mother; you can tell how long it was, for it was in 1826; my brother was born in that year; I was quite small then; don’t know how she came there; she was with my mother during her confinement; my brother is dead; it is written down in our Testament; and I took an epitaph from it to put on the tombstone; the last time I saw it was when the fellow killed the school-mistress. I looked because about 1830, a man killed a woman, and was hung, and I wanted to see how long ago it was. I have seen her more or less ever since, until within two years. I don’t remember when she went from mother, but I saw her at Mr. Latta’s afterwards. I have no doubt she is the woman; she was then a slim, tall girl, larger than myself; she is not darker now, but heavier set every way.
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Sarah Gayly affirmed.—I am between forty-seven and forty-eight years of age. I live in the city at this time. I was raised in Chester county, in 1824, and have been here about five years. I lived in Downingtown nine or ten years. I lived awhile in West Chester, and lived in Chester county until about five years ago. I know the alleged fugitive. I first saw her in the neighborhood of Downingtown, at a place they call Downing’s old stage office; she worked in the house with me; it was somewhere near 1824, just before Lafayette came about; she worked off and on days’ work, to wash dishes; she was a small girl then, very thin, and younger than me. I met with her, as near as I can tell you, down in the valley, at a place called the Valley Inn. I used to see her off and on at church, in 1826. I visited her at Mr. Latta’s, after she lived at the Valley Inn. I don’t know when she left that county. I know the alleged fugitive is the same person; she belonged to the same church, Ebenezer. I know the brothers Cornish, and have whipped them many a time. I lived with Latta myself, and the Cornish, who is now a minister, lived there; he lived there before I did, and so did the alleged fugitive. I was then between twenty-three and twenty-five years old; she was a strip of a girl; she was not in the family way when she came there.
Cross-examined.—I have not seen her since 1826, until I saw her here in the court-room; I recognized her when I first saw her here without anybody pointing her out, and she recognized me; I have reason to know her, because she has the same sort of a scar on her forehead that I have; we used to make fun of each other about the marks; she went by the name of Fanny Coates. I know nothing about her husband; she did not do the work of a woman in 1826; she washed dishes, scrubbed, etc. I heard her say her father and mother were dead, and that they lived somewhere in that neighborhood; she at that time made her home with a family named Amos.
The Judge asked to see the scar on the witness’ forehead and that on the forehead of the respondent. They were brought near the bench, and the marks inspected, which were plainly seen on both. During this time the infant of the respondent was entrusted to another colored woman. The child, who, up to this time, had been quiet, raised a piteous cry and would not be pacified. The whole scene excited a great sensation.
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Mr. Brown then rose in reply to the plaintiff’s counsel, and said: If I consulted my own views, I should not say one syllable, in answer to the arguments of the learned counsel upon the other side, and relying as I do upon the evidence, and out of respect to the convenience of your honor, I shall say very little as it is. The views of the counsel it appears to me, are most extraordinary indeed. He seems to take it for granted that everything that is said on the part of the witnesses for the claimant is gospel, and that what is said on the part of the witnesses for the respondent, is to be considered matter of suspicion. Now I rate no man by his size, color, or position, but I appeal to you in looking at the testimony that has been produced here, on the different sides of the question, and judging it by its intrinsic worth, whether there is the slightest possible comparison between the witnesses on the part of the plaintiff, and those of the defendant, either in intelligence, memory, language, thought, or anything else. This is a fine commentary upon the disparagement of color! Looking at the men as they are, as you will, I say that the testimony exhibited on the part of the respondent would outweigh a whole theatre of such men as are exhibited on the part of the complainant. I say nothing here about their respectability. It would have been proper for the learned counsel on the part of the plaintiff, if he thought the witnesses on the part of the respondent unworthy of belief, to have proved them so; but instead of that, he attempts to bolster up men, who, whether respectable or otherwise, from their inconsistency, involutions and tergiversations in regard to this case, produce no possible effect upon the judicial mind, but that which is unfavorable to themselves. Impartial men, are they? How do they appear before you? They appear under cover from first to last; standing upon their right to resist inquiries legitimately propounded to them; burning up letters since they have arrived, calculated to shed light upon this subject; and before they come here, corresponding with and deriving information from a man, an evident kidnapper, who dare not sign his name and gets his wife to sign hers. This is the character these men exhibit here before you; clandestinely meeting together at the tavern, and that to consult in regard to the identity of a person about whom they know nothing. Can they refer to any marks by which to identify this person? Nothing at all of the kind. Do they, with the exception of the first witness examined, state even the time when she left? Have they produced the letter written by this kidnapper, showing how he described her? Why, let me ask, is not the full light allowed to shine on this case? But even with the light they have shed upon it, I would have been perfectly content to have rested it, relying upon their testimony alone, for a just decision.
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Now, what man among them, professes to have seen this woman for twenty-one years? Not one. The learned gentleman attempts to sustain his case, because one of our witnesses, certainly not more than one, has not seen this woman for about the same length of time: but don’t you perceive, that in this case they all lived in the same State, if not in the same county—they had intercourse with persons mutually acquainted with her, and three out of four of them, met her for several months at the same church; and one witness, who had long been in her society, and in close association with her, knew she had a mark upon her forehead corresponding to the one she bore on her own. And by dint of all these matters, this long continued acquaintance only reviving the impressions received in early life, they had no doubt of the identity of the person. Was there ever a more perfect train of evidence exhibited to prove the identity of a person, than on the present occasion?
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We have called witnesses on this point alone, and have more than counterpoised the evidence produced upon the opposite side. And we have not only made it manifest that she was a free woman, but we have confirmed her charter by separate proof. What does the gentleman say further? Do I understand him to say we have no right to determine this matter judicially? Now what is all this about? Why is it before you, taking your time day after day? According to this argument, you have nothing to do but to give the master the flesh he claims. But you are to be satisfied that you have sufficient reason to believe that these claims are well founded. And if you leave that matter in a state of doubt, it does not require a single witness to be called on the part of the respondent, to prove on the opposite side of the question. But we have come in with a weight of evidence demolishing the structure he has raised, restoring the woman to her original position in the estimation of the law. “Well,” says the gentleman, “it is like the case of a fugitive from justice.” But it is not, and if it were, it would not benefit his case. The case of a fugitive from justice is one in which the prisoner is remanded to the custody of the law, handed over for legal purposes. The case of a fugitive from labor is a case in which the individual is handed over sometimes to a merciless master, and very rarely to a charitable one. Does the counsel mean to say that in the case of a fugitive from justice he is not bound to satisfy the judge before whom, the question is heard? He should prove our witnesses unworthy of belief. As Judge Grier said, upon a former occasion, “You can choose your own time; you have full and abundant opportunities on every side to prepare against any contingency.” Why don’t they do so? He is not to come here and force on a case, and say, I suppose you take every thing for granted. He is to come prepared to prove the justice of his claim before the tribunal who is to decide upon it. That he has not done successfully, and I would, therefore, ask your Honor, after the elaborate argument on the part of the plaintiff, to discharge this woman: for after such an abundance of testimony unbroken and incontestable as that we have exhibited here, it would be a monstrous perversion of reason to suppose that anything more could be required.
Mr. McMurtrie replied by reasserting his positions. It was a grave question for the court to consider what evidence was required. He thought that this decision might be the turning case to show whether the act of Congress would be carried out or whether we were to return in fact to the state of affairs under the old laws.
Judge Kane said, in reference to the remarks at the close of Mr. McMurtrie’s speech: So long as I retain my seat on this bench, I shall endeavor to enforce this law without reference to my own sympathies, or the sympathies and opinions of others. I do not think, in the cases under this act of Congress, or a treaty, or constitutional, or legal provision for the extradition of fugitives from justice, that it is possible to imagine that conclusive proof of identity could be established by depositions. From the nature of the case and the facts to be proved, proof cannot be made in anticipation of the identity of the party. That being established, it is the office of the judge, to determine whether a prima facie case indicates the identity of the party charged, with the party before him.
* * * * *
On the other hand, the evidence of the claimant has been met, and regarding the bearing of the witnesses for the respondent, met by witnesses who testified, with apparent candor and great intelligence. If they are believed, then the witnesses for the claimant are mistaken. The question is, whether two witnesses for the claimant, who have not seen the respondent for twenty-three, one for twenty-four years, are to be believed in preference to four witnesses on the other side, three of whom have seen her frequently since 1826, and known her as Euphemia Williams, and the fourth, who has not seen her for a quarter of a century, but testifies that when they were children, they used to jest each other about scars, which they still bear upon their persons; I am bound to say that the proof by the four witnesses has not been overthrown by the contrary evidence of the two who only recognized her when they called on her with the marshall. One says he called her Mahala Purnell as soon as he saw her. He might be mistaken. He inferred he would find her at the place to which he went. There were three persons in the room, one was Mahala Richardson, whom he knew, a young girl, and the prisoner. If she had been alone, his recognition would have been of no avail. The fact is obvious to this court, that the respondent has no peculiar physiognomy or gait. It has been shown she has no peculiarity of voice; I cannot but feel that the fact alleged by the claimant is very doubtful, when the witnesses, without mark or peculiarity, testify that they can readily recognize the girl of fifteen in the woman of forty. The prisoner is therefore discharged.
A slight attempt at applause in the court room was promptly suppressed. The intelligence of the discharge of the woman, was quickly spread to those without, who raised shouts of joy. The woman, with her children, were hurried into a carriage, which was driven first to the Anti-slavery office and then to the Philadelphia Institute, in Lombard Street above Seventh. Here she was introduced to a large audience of colored people, who hailed her appearance with lively joy; several excited speeches were made, and great enthusiasm was manifested in and outside of the building and the adjacent streets. When Euphemia came out, the horses were taken out of the carriage, and a long rope was attached, which was taken by as many colored people as could get hold of it, and the woman and her children thus conveyed to her home.
The procession was accompanied by several hundreds of men, women and boys. They dragged the carriage past the residence of the counsel for the respondent, cheering them by huzzas of the wildest kind, and then took the vehicle and its contents to the residence of the woman, Germantown Road near Fifth street, beguiling the way with songs and shouts. The whole scene was one of wild, ungovernable excitement, produced by exuberance of joy.
The masterly management of abolitionists in connection with the counsel, saved poor Euphemia from being dragged from her children into hopeless bondage. While the victory was a source of great momentary rejoicing on the part of the friends of the slave it was nevertheless quite manifest that she was only released by the “skin of her teeth.” “A scar on her forehead” saved her. Relative to this important mark, a few of Euphemia’s friends enjoyed a very pleasing anecdote, which, at the time, they were obliged to withhold from the public; it is too good to be kept any longer. For a time, Euphemia was kept in durance vile, up in the dome of Independence Hall, partly in the custody of Lieutenant Gouldy of the Mayor’s police, (who was the right man in the right place), whose sympathies were secretly on the side of the slave. While his pitying eyes gazed on Euphemia’s sad face, he observed a very large scar on her forehead, and was immediately struck with the idea that that old scar might be used with damaging effect by the witnesses and counsel against her. At once he decided that the scar must be concealed, at least, until after the examination of the claimant’s witnesses. Accordingly a large turban was procured and placed on Euphemia’s head in such a manner as to hide the scar completely, without exciting the least suspicion in the minds of any. So when the witnesses against her swore that she had no particular mark, David Paul Brown made them clinch this part of their testimony irrevocably. Now, when Sarah Gayly affirmed (on the part of the prisoner) that “I have reason to know her because she has the same sort of a scar on her forehead that I have, we used to make fun of each other about the marks,” etc., if it was not evident to all, it was to some, that she had “stolen their thunder,” as the “chop-fallen” countenances of the slave-holder’s witnesses indicated in a moment. Despair was depicted on all faces sympathizing with the pursuers.
With heavy pecuniary losses, sad damage of character, and comfortless, the unhappy claimant and his witnesses were compelled to return to Maryland, wiser if not better men. The account of this interesting trial, we have condensed from a very careful and elaborate report of it published in the “Pennsylvania Freeman,” January 13th, 1857.
Apparently, the vigilance of slave-hunters was not slackened by this defeat, as the records show that many exciting cases took place in Philadelphia and Pennsylvania, and if the records of the old Abolitionist Society could be published, as they should be, it would appear that many hard-fought battles have taken place between Freedom and Slavery on this soil.
Here in conclusion touching the Fugitive Slave Law, arrests under it, etc., as a fitting sequel we copy two extracts from high authority. The first is from the able and graphic pen of James Miller McKim, who was well known to stand in the front ranks of both the Anti-slavery Society and the Underground Rail Road cause through all the long and trying contest, during which the country was agitated by the question of immediate emancipation, and shared the full confidence and respect of Abolitionists of all classes throughout the United States and Great Britain.
The letter from which we have made this extract was written to Hon. George Thompson, the distinguished abolitionist of England, and speaks for itself. The other quotation is from the pen of a highly respectable and intelligent lady, belonging to the Society of Friends, or Quakers, and a most devoted friend of the slave, whose statement obviously is literally true.
From Mr. McKiM to GEORGE THOMPSON, 1851.
The accompanying parcel of extracts will give you a full account of the different slave cases tried in this city, under the new Fugitive Slave Law up to this time. Full and accurate as these reports are, they will afford you but a faint idea of the anguish and confusion that have been produced in this part of the country by this infamous statute. It has turned Southeastern Pennsylvania into another Guinea Coast, and caused a large portion of the inhabitants to feel as insecure from the brutal violence and diabolical acts of the kidnapper, as are the unhappy creatures who people the shores of Africa. Ruffians from the other side of the Slave-line, aided by professional kidnappers on our own soil, a class of men whose ‘occupation’ until lately, had been ‘gone,’ are continually prowling through the community, and every now and then seizing and carrying away their prey. As a specimen of the boldness, though fortunately, not of the success always with which these wretches prosecute their nefarious trade, read the enclosed article, which I cut from the Freeman, of January 2d, and bear in mind that in no respect are the facts here mentioned over-stated.
This affair occurred in Chester county, one of the most orderly and intelligent counties in the State, a county settled principally by Quakers. A week or two after this occurrence, and not far from the same place, a farmhouse was entered by a band of armed ruffians, in the evening, and at a time when all the able-bodied occupants, save one, were known to be absent. This was a colored man, who was seated by the kitchen fire, and in the act of taking off his shoes. He was instantly knocked down and gagged; but, still resisting, he was beaten most unmercifully. There was a woman, and also a feeble old man, in the house, who were attracted to the spot by the scuffle; but they could neither render any assistance, nor (the light being put out), could they recognize the parties engaged in it. The unhappy victim being fairly overcome, was dragged like a slain beast to a wagon, which was about a hundred yards distant, waiting to receive him. In this he was placed, and conveyed across the line, which was about twenty miles further south; and that was the last, so far as I know, that has ever been heard of him. The alarm was given, of course, as soon as possible, and the neighbors were quickly in pursuit; but the kidnappers had got the start of them. The next morning the trail between the house, and the place where the wagon stood, was distinctly visible, and deeply marked with blood.
About a fortnight since, a letter was brought to our office, from a well-known friend, the contents of which were in substance as follows: A case of kidnapping had occurred in the vicinity of West Cain Township, Chester county, at about half past one on Sunday morning, the 16th March. A black man, by the name of Thomas Hall, an honest, sober, and industrious individual, living in the midst of a settlement of farmers, had been stolen by persons who knocked at his door, and told him that his nearest neighbor wanted him to come to his house, one of his children being sick. Hall, not immediately opening his door, it was burst in, and three men rushed into his house; Hall was felled by the bludgeons of the men. His wife received several severe blows, and on making for the door was told, that if she attempted to go out or halloo, she would have her brains blown out. She, however, escaped through a back window, and gave the alarm; but before any person arrived upon the ground, they had fled with their victim. He was taken without any clothing, except his night clothes. A six-barrelled revolver, heavily loaded, was dropped in the scuffle, and left; also a silk handkerchief, and some old advertisement of a bear bait, that was to take place in Emmittsburg, Maryland. In how many cases the persons stolen are legally liable to capture, it is impossible to state. The law, you know, authorizes arrests to be made, with or without process, and nothing is easier under such circumstances than to kidnap persons who are free born.
The very same day that I received the above mentioned letter, and while our hearts were still aching over its contents, another was brought us from Thomas Garrett, of Wilmington, Delaware, announcing the abduction, a night or two before, of a free colored man of that city. The outrage was committed by an ex-policeman, who, pretending to be acting under the commission which he had been known to hold, entered, near the hour of midnight, the house of the victim, and alleging against him some petty act of disorder, seized him, handcuffed him in the presence of his dismayed family, and carried him off to Maryland. The cheat that had been practised was not discovered by the family until next evening; but it was too late, the man was gone.
At the time Mr. Garrett’s letter was handed to me, narrating the foregoing case of man stealing, I was listening to the sad tales of two colored women, who had come to the office for advice and assistance. One of them was an elderly person, whose son had been pursued by the marshal’s deputies, and who had just escaped with ‘the skin of his teeth.’ She did not come on her own account, however; her heart was too full of joy for that. She came to accompany the young woman who was with her. This young woman was a remarkably intelligent, lady-like person, and her story made a strong appeal to my feelings. She is a resident of Washington, and her errand here was, to procure the liberation of a sister-in-law, who is confined in that city, under very peculiar circumstances. The sister-in-law had absconded from her mistress about nine months since, and was secreted in the room of an acquaintance, who was cook in a distinguished slave-holding family in Washington; her intention being, there to wait until all search should be over, and an opportunity offer of escape to the North. But, as yet, no such opportunity had presented itself; at least none that was available, and for nine long months had that poor girl been confined in the narrow limits of the cook’s chamber, watched over day and night by that faithful friend with a vigilance as sleepless as it was disinterested. The time had now come, however, when something must be done. The family in whose house she is hid is about to be broken up, and the house to be vacated, and the girl must either be rescued from her peril, or she, and all her accomplices must be exposed. What to do under these circumstances was the question which brought this woman to Philadelphia. I advised her to the best of my ability, and sent her away hopeful, if not rejoicing.
But in many of these cases we can render no aid whatever. All we can do is to commend them to the God of the oppressed, and labor on for the day of general deliverance. But, oh! the horrors of this hell-born system, and the havoc made by this; its last foul offspring, the Fugitive Slave law. The anguish, the terror, the agony inflicted by this infamous statute, must be witnessed to be fully appreciated. You must hear the tale of the broken-hearted mother, who has just received tidings that her son is in the hands of man-thieves. You must listen to the impassioned appeal of the wife, whose husband’s retreat has been discovered, and whose footsteps are dogged by the blood-hounds of Slavery. You must hear the husband, as I did, a few weeks ago, himself bound and helpless, beg you for God’s sake to save his wife. You must see such a woman as Hannah Dellam, with her noble-looking boy at her side, pleading in vain before a pro-slavery judge, that she is of right free; that her son is entitled to his freedom; and above all, that her babe, about to be born, should be permitted to open its eyes upon the light of liberty. You must hear the judge’s decision, remorselessly giving up the woman with her children born and unborn, into the hands of their claimants—by them to be carried to the slave prison, and thence to be sold to a returnless distance from the remaining but scattered fragments of her once happy family. These things you must see and hear for yourself before you can form any adequate idea of the bitterness of this cup which the unhappy children of oppression along this southern border are called upon to drink. Manifestations like these have we been obliged either to witness ourselves, or hear the recital of from others, almost daily, for weeks together. Our aching hearts of late, have known but little respite. A shadow has been cast over our home circles, and a check been given to the wonted cheerfulness of our families. One night, the night that the woman and the boy and the unborn babe received their doom, my wife, long after midnight, literally wept herself to sleep. For the last fortnight we have had no new cases; but even now, when I go home in the evening, if I happen to look more serious than usual, my wife notices it, and asks: “Is there another slave case?” and my little girls look up anxiously for my reply.
* * * * *
From Miss MARY B. THOMAS.
Daring outrage! burglary and kidnapping! The following letter tells its own startling and most painful story. Every manly and generous heart must burn with indignation at the villainy it describes, and bleed with sympathy for the almost broken-hearted sufferers.
DOWNINGTOWN, 19th, 4th mo., 1848.
“My Dear Friend:—This morning our family was aroused by the screams of a young colored girl, who has been living with us nearly a year past; but we were awakened only in time to see her borne off by three white men, ruffians indeed, to a carriage at our door, and in an instant she was on her way to the South. I feel so much excited by the attendant circumstances of this daring and atrocious deed, as scarcely to be able to give you a coherent account of it, but I know that it is a duty to make it known, and, I therefore write this immediately.
“As soon as the house was opened in the morning, these men who were lurking without, having a carriage in waiting in the street, entered on their horrid errand. They encountered no one in their entrance, except a colored boy, who was making the fire; and who, being frightened at their approach, ran and hid himself; taking a lighted candle from the kitchen, and carrying it up stairs, they went directly to the chamber in which the poor girl lay in a sound sleep. They lifted her from her bed and carried her down stairs. In the entry of the second floor they met one of my sisters, who, hearing an unusual noise, had sprung from her bed. Her screams, and those of the poor girl, who was now thoroughly awakened to the dreadful truth, aroused my father, who hurried undressed from his chamber, on the ground floor. My father’s efforts were powerless against the three; they threw him off, and with frightful imprecations hurried the girl to the carriage. Quickly as possible my father started in pursuit, and reached West Chester only to learn that the carriage had driven through the borough at full speed, about half an hour before. They had two horses to their vehicle, and there were three men besides those in the house. These particulars we gather from the colored boy Ned, who, from his hiding-place, was watching them in the road.
“Can anything be done for the rescue of this girl from the kidnappers? We are surprised and alarmed! This deliberate invasion of our house, is a thing unimagined. There must be some informer, who is acquainted with our house and its arrangements, or they never would have come so boldly through. Truly, there is no need to preach about Slavery in the abstract, this individual case combines every wickedness by which human nature can be degraded.
Truly, thy friend,
MARY B. THOMAS.”
In a subsequent letter, our friend says: “As to detail, the whole transaction was like a flash to those who saw the miserable ending. I was impelled to write without delay, by the thought that it would be in time for the ‘Freeman,’ and that any procrastination on my part, might jeopard others of these suffering people, who are living, as was this poor girl, in fancied security. Our consternation was inexpressible; our sorrow and indignation deepen daily, as the thought returns of the awful announcement with which we were awakened: they have carried Martha to the South. To do what will be of most service to the cause—not their cause—ours—that of our race, is our burning desire.”