THE NEXT DAY was Saturday, the day Anthony Burns was to appear in court again. Very early in the morning, a crowd once again gathered around the Court House. Composed of those for and against slavery, it was seething with anger and rumor. Marshal Freeman, who had narrowly escaped a bullet as he defended the front stairs, had asked the Mayor for a body of United States troops, which the Mayor ordered out at once. Fifty Marines sped into Boston by steamer and were quartered inside the Court House by morning.
From the Navy Yard in Charlestown came another company of Marines, ordered by the Marshal with District Attorney Hallett’s approval. They, too, stayed in the Court House.
Very early, also, the Mayor gave orders for the Independent Corps of Cadets and the Boston Light Infantry to assemble in their armories and then report to City Hall. A detachment of Boston Light Dragoons was in readiness at their armory as well.
Later that morning, James Batchelder’s body was taken away by the coroner. The crowd, growing ever larger, watched silently as the coffin was placed in a covered carriage and carried away.
As other carriages passed through the Square, the crowd grew boisterous again. Three or four men causing the most disturbance were arrested on the spot, to rounds of cheers and hisses.
The Mayor came out, stood at the entrance to the Court House, and briefly addressed the crowd. He told them to go home, that sufficient force was present to preserve the peace. All laws were to be maintained, he said.
At these words, applause and boos rang out. He then had a notice posted, which read:
Because of the excitement that now pervades the city, you are respectfully requested to cooperate with the Municipal Authorities in the maintenance of peace and good order. The laws must be obeyed, let the consequences be what they may.
At five minutes after nine o’clock, Anthony was brought to the Court House by six armed guards and escorted to the United States District Court room.
Seth Thomas and Edward C. Parker appeared as counsel for the claimants, Suttle and Brent, and the United States Government. Richard Dana and Charles M. Ellis were there in defense of the fugitive, Anthony Burns. Spectators, as well as officers of the Marine Corps, filled the courtroom.
The examination began at ten o’clock before Commissioner Loring. Charles Ellis immediately asked for a further delay, for the purpose of preparing the case on the part of the fugitive. It wasn’t until yesterday, he said, that he or Mr. Dana had felt at liberty to act for Anthony Burns. And only Mr. Dana had had access to the prisoner.
“It therefore stands as if this person was seized yesterday afternoon,” Ellis said, “and brought in here this morning for examination. The man is present in this court as a freeman,” he continued, “entitled to all the protection the laws can throw around him.”
The law ought not be executed, Ellis said, until a case had been made out as clear as daylight and free from doubt. “Your Honor,” he continued earnestly, “do consider that this is the only tribunal between the man and perpetual slavery.”
Suttle’s attorney Edward Parker objected to a further postponement of the case. “The argument is,” he said, “that the proceedings here are to settle the case of the man’s freedom or slavery. This is not so. It is only a preliminary hearing, to determine the question of sending the man to a place where the question of his condition will be settled, according to the laws which are presumed to exist there. I therefore see no reason for delay.”
Richard Dana spoke next. He calmly reviewed the nature of the record, which was the transcript of the record that Charles Suttle had produced from the Alexandria, Virginia, Circuit Court. The transcript had been put in as proof that Anthony Burns was held to service and labor by Suttle. It further stated that Anthony had escaped from the state of Virginia and still owed service and labor to Charles Suttle, his master; it provided a general description of Anthony.
Dana had had a copy of the transcript only since last evening. “The granting of the certificate,” he said now, “which would allow the claimant to remove the prisoner from Massachusetts to the State of Virginia, settles the case of Burns finally. Anthony Burns will never go before another tribunal, but might—and Burns himself fears that he would—be sold to go to New Orleans. The claimant, Mr. Suttle, might send him where he pleases, and Your Honor could not help it.
“If the case goes on now,” Dana said, “he, Burns, will say and we, his counsel shall say, that he has had no defense. And it is in view of the tremendous consequences of granting this certificate that we ask for a delay.”
“I am advised by the claimant, Charles Suttle,” said Edward Parker, “that he is willing to sell the slave here in the city for his fair market value.”
On hearing Parker, Reverend Grimes of the freeman’s church jerked up straight in his seat, stunned by this sudden good news.
The Commissioner quickly gave his decision. He said he looked upon Burns as one who was still to be regarded as a freeman; he knew of no proof yet submitted that he was to be regarded as anything else. He said he thought the question of delay was a sensible one. “I must look at the rights of the parties and see that justice is done. One or two days’ delay is not an unreasonable request, and I therefore grant further delay until Monday morning at eleven o’clock.”
With the decision made, the spectators, who had packed the courtroom and had had difficulty keeping still, now quietly left. Anthony was taken back to his jail on the third floor. On each landing of the stairs now, squads of Marines and other United States troops were posted with fixed bayonets; and they were in the rooms of each story as well.
Very large ropes instead of chains were used to keep people out of the passages along the outer walls of the Court House. The barricades were guarded by the Boston police, a fact that incensed a local newspaper. “We should like to know what law of this Commonwealth authorizes or permits the Boston police to serve as sentries for the garrison in that fortified slave pen, commonly called ‘Boston Court House.’ But here is a brave array of troops, marshals, police, and enlisted creatures of various sorts—all on duty to crush out the freedom of a poor fellow whose only crime is a decided repugnance to slavery.”
Marshal Freeman had telegraphed President Franklin Pierce informing him of the attack on the Court House the night before and stating that one of his own guards had been killed. He informed the President that he had availed himself of the resources of the United States.
The reply from President Pierce came quickly: “Your conduct is approved. The law must be executed.”
Thousands of people were attracted to the Court House after Commissioner Loring postponed the examination and Anthony was taken back to his jail. They included those who were already there for the abolitionist convention as well as those outsiders who had only just heard of the Burns case. Many had come to protest Anthony’s capture. There were arrests for drunkenness and one for a knife attack. A man from Worcester stood upon a flour barrel and spoke loudly about abolitionism and the Kansas-Nebraska Bill before he was arrested for disturbing the peace. Rumors flew. It was reported that 400 “colored persons” from New Bedford had arrived in the city in support of Anthony Burns.
That evening the postmortem examination of Mr. Batchelder was made. Soon after, the word was out that Batchelder’s fellow truckmen intended to make a protest demonstration at the homes of Wendell Phillips and Reverend Theodore Parker.
After a number of men were seen approaching Phillips’s and Parker’s houses, the Mayor posted guards to protect them.
Reverend Grimes had much to do himself that Saturday. Having learned in the courtroom Friday that Anthony might be sold, he at once approached Suttle’s counsel and was told, “Colonel Suttle has agreed to sell Burns.” The sum of sale was to be twelve hundred dollars. But the condition was that it could be made only after Anthony had been surrendered to the Colonel.
“But would not the Colonel consent to close the bargain before that?” asked Reverend Grimes. He, of course, intended to buy Anthony’s freedom.
Edward Parker replied, “I think not.”
Grimes then went to talk to Marshal Freeman, who referred him to the Colonel.
Colonel Suttle was polite. He spoke at length on the fact that he “owned Tony.” It amazed Reverend Grimes that this slave owner would talk to him so freely, as though he and Anthony Burns were not both blacks. Suttle went on to say that he had always treated Tony kindly and that Tony had a good character. But he would not consider selling his slave before the surrender. Next, Suttle left Grimes for a long conversation with his lawyer, Seth Thomas. Thomas then told Reverend Grimes that Suttle had agreed to sell his slave before the surrender was made.
Grimes was overjoyed.
“Between this time and ten o’clock tonight,” he said, “I’ll have the money ready for you; have the emancipation papers ready for me at that hour.”
Reverend Grimes had no resources of his own. But as Ben Hallett had observed, he was an able fund-raiser. He spent hours going about the city getting pledges from as many people as he could. Some said they were not ready to contribute to the slave’s freedom. Many, however, did pledge, and by seven o’clock in the evening, Grimes had pledges for eight hundred dollars. A broker on State Street advanced the money on this pledge, writing his check for the eight hundred dollars in the Marshal’s office.
Grimes again went out and spent the rest of the evening trying to raise the last four hundred dollars. Finally, a sympathetic gentleman lent him the money so that the transaction could go through.
By half past ten o’clock nothing was left to do but execute the bill of sale. Another half hour was taken up by a private talk between Colonel Suttle and his counsel. Then Grimes went one way and Suttle and his lawyers another, to reconvene at the private office of Commissioner Loring. Arrangements had already been made for Loring to draw up the papers.
When Judge Loring arrived, he proceeded to write the bill in these words:
Know all men by these present, that I, Charles F. Suttle, of Alexandria in Virginia, in consideration of twelve hundred dollars to me paid, do hereby release and discharge, quitclaim and convey to Anthony Burns his liberty; and I hereby manumit and release him from all claims and service to me forever, hereby giving him his liberty to all intents and effects forever. In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this twenty-seventh day of May, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
The Commissioner sent for Marshal Freeman. The Marshal refused to come. Reverend Grimes’ heart sank; now he was sorry he’d sent a messenger up to Anthony Burns to tell him to be ready in a few minutes, that he was leaving his jail.
Judge Loring gathered his papers. And with everyone following, he went to the Marshal’s office, where they found the Marshal and District Attorney Benjamin Hallett.
Hallett objected to the transaction on the grounds that twelve hundred dollars might be satisfactory for the Colonel but that there were other expenses—troops and guards, for example—that could only be settled by a trial of the fugitive. He said the government wouldn’t pay a cent otherwise.
Judge Loring then read a portion of the Fugitive Slave Act, which he said made the government responsible.
“But there is an existing law of Massachusetts,” said Hallett, “which prohibits the transaction.” He began to recite it: “Any person who shall sell, or in any manner transfer for any term, the service or labor of any negro, mulatto, or other person of color who shall have been unlawfully seized, taken, shall be punished by imprisonment of not more than ten years.”
Commissioner Loring silenced Hallett. “That law you refer to is a law aimed not against selling a man into freedom,” he said, “but against selling him into slavery. The bill of sale for Anthony had been for his liberty, not his service or labor as specified by the Massachusetts law.
Ben Hallett smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, thought Reverend Grimes. It fairly put a chill around his shoulders.
“Too late, gentlemen,” said Hallett.
The Commissioner chose to ignore him. “Colonel, get this over with,” he said. “Sign this bill, please, and accept the payment.”
Ben Hallett stood very straight, looking at the clock.
“Gentlemen,” he said again. “It is after twelve. See for yourselves, look at the clock.s Colonel Suttle’s signature will never be legal. Sunday has commenced.”
All looked at the clock. The hands showed a quarter past twelve. According to Massachusetts law, no business could be transacted on Sunday. Reverend Grimes closed his eyes and said a prayer for Anthony Burns.
Judge Loring gathered up his papers again and turned to Mr. Grimes. “It can be done at eight o’clock on Monday morning,” he said kindly. “Come to my office then, and it can be settled in five minutes.”
Mr. Grimes turned away in utter disappointment. Exhausted now, he had worked so hard, and for nothing. And Anthony—poor Anthony Burns! Grimes had a carriage waiting at the door of the Court House to bear Anthony away to freedom. Now he asked the Marshal for permission to see Mr. Burns and relieve him of the suspense of waiting in vain for his friends to come.
The Marshal refused. “I shall tell him myself,” he said.
There was nothing for Reverend Grimes to do but dismiss the cab. He did this and then went home, feeling sad and defeated.