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Book Review
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H. Robert Baker, The Rescue of Joshua Glover: A Fugitive Slave,
the Constitution, and the Coming of the Civil War, Athens: Ohio
University Press, 2006. Pp. 260. $38.95 (ISBN 0-8214-1690-1).
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On the night of March 10, 1854, Joshua Glover, residing peacefully
near Racine, Wisconsin, was arrested by U.S. marshals pursuant to
the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, under a certificate granted to Benammi
Garland of Missouri, his putative owner. Glover was taken under
cover of darkness to Milwaukee and detained in the county jail.
What set this case apart from all others was not that Glover was
quickly emancipated from federal custody by popular fiat and the
breaking of a door, nor that the leaders of the rescue were prosecuted
and convicted. All this had happened before. What set it apart was
that the Wisconsin Supreme Court intervened in the criminal proceedings
against antislavery journalist Sherman M. Booth and freed him by
declaring the Fugitive Slave Act unconstitutional. American
antislavery had never lacked for distinguished legal theorists
and tacticians, but H. Robert Baker persuasively suggests that
to the better known names of William Jay, Robert Rantoul, Jr.,
Lysander Spooner, and Salmon P. Chase should be added the name
of Byron Paine, attorney for Booth. Paine argued that the Fugitive
Slave Law, in denying the writ of habeas corpus and the right
of trial by jury, abridged the common law liberties of the people,
which it is the legitimate, indeed the most basic business of
state governments (especially as then constituted) to defend.
In a consistently interesting historical narrative Baker closely
analyzes Abelman v. Booth as a dramatic instance of collision
between state and federal jurisdictions, considering it in relation
to Marbury v. Madison, which gave the U. S. Supreme Court
final authority in Constitutional questions; Prigg v. Pennsylvania,
by which, in 1842, Joseph Story had federalized slave recaption;
and Lemuel Shaw's 1851 decision for the Supreme Judicial Court
of Massachusetts in the matter of Thomas Sims, which, in returning
that fugitive to Georgia, had sustained the constitutionality
of the 1850 law. In the book's conclusion Baker distinguishes
the antebellum position of Wisconsin from the superficially similar
opposition of Arkansas Governor Orville Faubus to federal desegregation
orders following Brown v. Board of Education. Both were
state's rights positions, but only one was undertaken in behalf
of such fundamental human rights as the Constitution was obliged
by popular will to respect.
The Rescue of Joshua Glover
breaks new ground insofar as Abelman v. Booth has often
been seen by historians as a reckless and extralegal challenge
by Wisconsin to an odious but clearly constitutional enactment.
One especially interesting aspect of Baker's analysis concerns
the legality of popular protest, as the writer discriminates between
objectionable mob action on the one hand and the recognition traditionally
accorded on the other to rights of assembly and free political
speech as these may become involved in the duty of citizens in
a democracy to protect themselves from, say, kidnapping under
the color of law. But the book breaks new ground also in ways
that only emerge if the Glover case is placed in relation to concurrent
but radically different cases arising elsewhere, especially that
of Anthony Burns in Boston. The cultural historian will be delighted
to see how much difference venue makes. In Wisconsin the law and
order party were proslavery unionist Democrats who looked for
policy to Franklin Pierce and Attorney General Caleb Cushing,
whereas the antislavery activists (principally Booth and Paine)
were graduates of the old Liberty Party, abetted, as the emergence
of Carl Schurz might imply, by '48ers among the German population.
In Massachusetts old line Webster Whigs squared off against "higher
law" reformers including Transcendentalists and Garrisonians,
both essentially apolitical. The Wisconsin reformers were effectual
in delivering Glover and in resisting the Fugitive Slave Law;
their counterparts in Massachusetts, on the contrary, experienced
the shame and humiliation of seeing Burns remanded to Virginia.
Forced to concede that the Slave Power had a legally free hand
in their own state affairs and concluding that the Constitution
was against them, they could then see no option but to embrace
disunion politics. There is no hint in Baker's account that Romantic
reform tinged the Wisconsin proceedings whatsoever; instead, legal
pragmatism and a regard for the rights of the state's citizens
became the basis for an elegant antislavery constitutionalism
that could not have been more ideologically distant from Garrison's
morally grounded repudiation of the Constitution as a proslavery
document.
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| Albert J. von Frank |
| Washington State University |
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