by John Bailey
Grymes gave Adelle v. Beauregard considerable attention when he began his reply mid-afternoon on the second day. He told the court that there were sound, practical reasons why Adelle v. Beauregard shouldn’t be regarded as the law of Louisiana. It couldn’t be true in a slave-owning society that masters had to show how they obtained their slaves. Thousands of people held colored slaves with no better title to show than that of Miller—was it going to be suggested that all of these slaves could now flood the courts with petitions of freedom? If the court followed Upton’s reasoning, any slaves who weren’t pure African could now hope for deliverance if their master couldn’t produce a piece of paper showing title to them. The rights of ownership of thousands of slaveowners in the state would be imperiled if Upton was correct. Was the court prepared to let this happen? Was the court to be seen as foolish?
Grymes continued: fortunately for the peace and prosperity of Louisiana, Upton was wrong. He hadn’t given the court the full story. Grymes took the court to a much later case, Mary v. Morris,127 which, he claimed, had placed a safeguard around Adelle v. Beauregard.
Mary v. Morris was decided by the Supreme Court of Louisiana in 1834, although it had its origins two decades earlier. John Marshall of Georgia, upon his death, left a mulatto slave, Mary, to his daughter for a period of five years, after which time, according to the provisions of his will, Mary should have been set free. Unfortunately for Mary, Marshall’s daughter neglected to tell her this, and instead took her to Louisiana and held her for twenty-four years, while Mary produced five children. Somehow, eventually, Mary discovered the contents of the will and sued for freedom for herself and her children. The defense was that emancipation was prohibited in Georgia and had been for many years, so John Marshall’s will was invalid from the outset. This argument found favor with Judge Mathews of the Louisiana Supreme Court, so Mary and her children remained enslaved. But the significant point of Mary v. Morris, according to Grymes, was that Mathews, in giving his reasons, had said: “Being from color and [in the] actual possession of the defendant, presumed to be a slave, the burden of proving her freedom devolved on her.”
Grymes argued that the law emerging from this case displayed the common sense absent from Adelle v. Beauregard. This law protected the legitimate rights of ownership. It meant that if a colored slave was in the actual possession of a master, the onus of proof remained with the slave to show he was free. This was the guiding principle to be applied. Sally Miller was in the actual possession of Belmonti before she became an illegal runaway, so it was up to her to show she was free and not vice versa. This she had failed to do.
Grymes then went on to point out that this view accorded with the ancient and wise provisions of the Spanish partidas. In Spanish law, if a master could produce any title or document to show that he had possession in good faith, it was then incumbent on the slave to prove otherwise. Miller and Belmonti had well satisfied that criterion, argued Grymes. They had possession of Sally Miller for over twenty years, and the power of attorney from Anthony Williams showed good title.
Grymes then put aside his law books for a final attempt at winning over the judges. The court had heard a lot about the fate of this woman, but he now asked that some thought be given to the fate of his client. Mr. Miller’s life had all but been destroyed. The bench must not be so blinded by concern for the plaintiff to ignore the effect of this appeal on Mr. Miller. He was the victim of a well-concocted web of lies. Mr. Upton might say that he was no longer alleging a lack of good faith, but it was far too late for that. The accusations had been made; the malicious gossip had taken its toll. Only through a complete rejection of this appeal would his reputation be restored.
After Grymes had concluded, Martin had one further query for Upton. As you quite rightly say, Mr. Upton, there is a presumption of freedom inherent in Adelle v. Beauregard. But a presumption always dissolves in the face of cogent evidence to the contrary, does it not?
Upton said he must agree.
Yes, that is the correct answer, Mr. Upton. That is the issue in this case. Is there proof that she is a slave?
And with that the five judges left the bench.
THIRTEEN
A PRESUMPTION IN FAVOR OF LIBERTY
It often happened that he would return the next day after a protracted discussion and say, “Well I have consulted my pillow on that question, and after all I believe I was wrong. “
Judge Bullard, on Judge Martin128
Three weeks later, on Saturday, June 21, 1845, the parties returned to the Cabildo to hear the Supreme Court pronounce judgment. Miller, accompanied by one of his witnesses, Joachim Kohn, sat in straight-backed silence directly behind his lawyers. Men and women from the German community filled the rows of seats in the public gallery, but there was none of the excitement of the day when Buchanan delivered his decision—experience had taught them to be wary of justice.
The room grew still as four judges entered the courtroom. Judge Morphy was absent on account of illness, said Chief Judge Martin, explaining the empty chair. However, His Honor concurred in the court’s judgment, which would now be read by Judge Bullard.
All eyes turned to Bullard. In a slow, Yankee accent, he commenced his recitation of the facts:
She sets forth in her petition many things connected with her biography, and that of her father, which are unsupported by evidence, and which we regard as wholly immaterial to the great question which the pleadings present, to wit, whether the plaintiff be white and free, or a slave.
To Upton’s ears it wasn’t a promising start. Did this mean that the court intended to ignore Mr. Eimer’s birth certificate after all? He listened as Bullard spent the next few minutes summarizing the facts of the case and the evidence of the parties. Then Bullard paused, indicating to his listeners that the preliminaries were over. He went straight to the core of the matter:
Ever since the case of Adelle v. Beauregard, in the Superior Court, as early as 1810, it had been the settled doctrine here that persons of color are presumed to be free. Slavery itself is an exception to the conditions of the great mass of mankind, and, except as to Africans in the slave-holding States, the presumption is in favor of freedom, and the burden of proof is upon him who claims the colored person as a slave.…
These were the words Upton had prayed to hear. The court intended to follow the reasoning of Adelle v. Beauregard. Might they win? He held his breath, struggling to quell the fear that some twist in the court’s reasoning might yet deny them victory.
The proof in the record of the complexion of the plaintiff is very strong. Not only is there no evidence of her having descended from a slave mother, or even a mother of the African race; but no witness has ventured a positive opinion, from inspection, that she is of that race. She is evidently a brunette, but Gen. Lewis, one of the most intelligent and candid witnesses on the part of the defendant, who had known her long, says she is as white as most persons; but that he has seen slaves as bright as the plaintiff. He adds, that he always thought she had something resembling the colored race in her features, but this opinion may have been induced by the fact that he had always seen her associating with persons of color. He also testifies to her resemblance to another female then in open court, shown to be a German, and a kinswoman of the lost daughter of Daniel Miller.…
Her own statements on the subject, so far as they are of any value, while they show that she did not seek this controversy, and was apparently contented with her condition, make no allusion to her parentage, unless it be to the Indian race: and when she alluded to the fact of having come over the lake, or of being sold by a negro trader, it is impossible to say whether she alludes faintly, as a dim reminiscence, to her voyage over the Atlantic, or to her being brought here from Mobile.…
It has been said that the German witnesses are imaginative and enthusiastic, and that their confidence ought to be distrusted. That kind of enthusiasm is, at least, of a quiet sort, evidently the result of profound conviction, and certainly fre
e from any taint of worldly interest, and is by no means incompatible with the most perfect conscientiousness. If they are mistaken as to the identity of the plaintiff; if there be in truth two persons about the same age, bearing a strong resemblance to the family of Miller, and having the same identical marks from their birth, and the plaintiff is not the real lost child, who arrived here with hundreds of others in 1818, it is certainly one of the most extraordinary things in history. If she be not, then nobody has told who she is.129
As Bullard read, a murmur rose from the body of the room, rising in intensity, as he approached the end. “After the most mature consideration of the case, we are of the opinion that the plaintiff is free….” The courtroom broke into uproar. “It is, therefore, adjudged and decreed….” The Germans in the court stood as one. Upton felt his back being slapped. Bullard, ignoring the disturbance, continued to read. “… that the judgment of the District Court be reversed; and ours is, that the plaintiff be released from the bonds of slavery.”
It was over. They had won. People embraced their neighbors. Eva Schuber and her husband hugged each other. Mr. Grabau stood with tears flowing down his face. Mr. Eimer did a dance to the front of the bar table. Upton turned to look at Salomé Müller. She sat slumped in disbelief. He called to her, and she looked up and smiled at him, then she disappeared behind a crowd of well-wishers.
Upton collapsed back into his seat. The case had been won on the strength of Adelle v. Beauregard. There wasn’t one word in Bullard’s judgment about the birth certificate. Not one word about the plaintiff’s age. There was nothing about when Lafayette was born, or whether Sally ever spoke with a German accent. The word “Attakapas” wasn’t mentioned. None of this seemed to matter to the Supreme Court. The essential point was that she looked as though she had white blood in her, so it was up to Miller to explain where she came from. This he had failed to do.
Tucked away in mid-paragraph toward the end of the judgment, if anyone cared to hear it, was a crumb thrown to Miller. It was “presumed,” said the court, that he had “acted in good faith, and in relation to whom, we are bound to say, that the allegations in the petition tending to his prejudice, are wholly unsupported.…”130
Upton looked around. He hadn’t even seen the judges leave the bench. Grymes, the other lawyers, and Miller had gone. The courtroom was theirs.
Within days, a grand celebratory ball was held by the German community in the Kaiser Dance Hall in Lafayette to welcome Sally Miller back into the ranks of white society. The Daily Tropic of June 30, 1845, devoted a column on its front page to describing the event. “The friends of Sally Miller, in great numbers were gathered together last Tuesday, at the home of Francis Schuber” and “about nine o’clock the party adjourned to a neighboring hall,” where “with music and dancing, a sumptuous feast, and an abundance of rich wines, they enjoyed themselves until a late hour.”
If the returned slave was to be accepted without reservation by the German community, it was the women who had to do it. When Sally Miller arrived at the hall, two hundred ladies waited to receive her. The most distinguished German in New Orleans, Christian Roselius, linked arms with Sally and escorted her around the hall. To each of the women lining the walls, Roselius formally introduced her as Sally Miller, a free German woman recently returned to society. Sally bowed and said she was pleased to be back. Some of the women took Sally by the hand and gave it a squeeze, others embraced her and with tears in their eyes told her she was lost no more. Several pressed a calling card into her hand and told her she was always welcome in their home. “They did greet her,” said one newspaper “as bone of their bone, and flesh of their flesh.”
After a circuit of the room, which took almost an hour to complete, Roselius accompanied Sally to the stage, where he proposed a toast. “Her liberation is not all,” he was quoted as saying. “A new leaf had been turned in the life-book of the freed woman. That leaf is white. See to it that it remains white and unsullied, so that the sorely tried woman who has been lifted up, will sink no more.”131
Upton was called upon to speak. In emotional terms, he paid tribute to Eva Schuber: “One there is to supply, as far as may be, the mother’s place—a holy conventional religious obligation has been imposed upon her and faithfully does the god-mother redeem her vows.”
He then cast an appeal to the ladies present:
On you I call to save this injured, this unhappy woman from sinking. We have snatched her from the house of bondage; to leave her now unprotected would be a cruelty instead of a kindness. Visit not upon her ignominy of her past life—not to her belongs its shame—not on her should be laid its reproach. Since Saturday last, a new life has opened upon her. The book which she now unfolds has as yet no word upon its pages. Ladies! Will you see that its future record is an honest and a correct one? Take her by the hand, go with her to the house of your God, teach her to worship His name, cheer, comfort, counsel, and aid her.132
The speeches finished, the orchestra led into music, and Roselius, who explained that the pleasures of dancing had little attraction for him, led Sally Miller to the hand of Upton. He escorted her to the floor and together they began a waltz. Others joined in and soon there was a swirling circle of men and women enclosing the two of them.
FOURTEEN
THE CHILDREN OF SALOMÉ MÜLLER
Natural fruits are such as are the spontaneous produce of the earth; the produce and increase of cattle, and the children of slaves are likewise natural fruits.
Article 537 of the Civil Code of the State of Louisiana
Sally Miller was free, but her children were not. Her second son, Madison, and her daughter, Adeline, were still held by Miller on his plantations in Attakapas. The youngest of her children, Charles, lived with Belmonti at his cabaret. Since Belmonti was probably Charles’s father, Sally wasn’t so concerned about him, but Madison and Adeline were a different matter. Within days of the Supreme Court decision, Sally called at Upton’s office and asked him how she could get them back. Miller hated her, she said, and he might do anything to her children. He might sell them. Then she would never see them again. Already, Lafayette had died on Miller’s sugar plantation and she didn’t want that happening to Madison and Adeline.
Upton told her that the legal position was quite clear. Miller had no right to her children and they should be released. The effect of the court’s decision was that she had never been a slave; therefore, her children couldn’t be slaves either. It was that simple.
However, enforcing the law was quite a different matter, as Upton found out when he wrote a note to Miller’s lawyers later that afternoon. They answered that they would find out the attitude of their client and let him know. They replied a few days later. As far as Mr. Miller was concerned, the decision of the Supreme Court only related to the mother—and she was a fraud. The children were his property and would remain so. If she wanted them back, she would have to sue for them. And he would welcome any legal contest she cared to mount.
Within days of receiving this advice, Upton had taken up the challenge. He called a meeting of Sally Miller, Eva Schuber, and the members of the committee formed to secure Sally’s freedom. He recommended that Sally sue both Miller and Mrs. Canby for the deprivation of her liberty and add on a plea for the release of Madison and Adeline. He explained that, although the damages claim against Miller had been withdrawn at the Supreme Court, that didn’t mean she couldn’t sue him elsewhere. This time, in order to avoid the prejudice of judges such as Buchanan, he suggested she should file with the United States Circuit Court and demand a jury trial.
The meeting attendees enthusiastically endorsed Upton’s plan. Theodore Grabau pledged his apothecary firm, Curtius & Grabau, to cover the legal costs, and Upton promised to immediately draft the petition to the federal court.
In his accusations against Miller and his mother, Upton was as forthright and as vindictive as ever Sigur had been:
The Petition of Salomé Müller respectfully represents [that w
hen she] was yet of tender age and too young either to assert or to be aware of her rights she was illegally and feloniously seized by one John F. Miller and by the mother of John F. Miller, Mrs. Sarah Canby…. Your petitioner was converted and raised as a slave— her natural liberty was debarred her, she was made to hold a place with negroes and those born to servitude, severe tasks and burdens were imposed upon her, cruel and harsh and wicked punishments were inflicted, she was ranked with slaves, treated as a slave and taught only the duties of a slave, your petitioner for more than twenty years suffered hardships and privations imposed only upon the African race.
He then sought an order for the release of Sally Miller’s children, “Madison and Adeline, now about fourteen or fifteen years of age still held as slaves by the said John F. Miller and Sarah Canby, who refuses to restore them to the care of your petitioner, but wickedly claims them as their property.”
Upton didn’t hold back in the amount of damages he was seeking: