Baltimore Slave Trader Austin Woolfolk’s Assault on Benjamin Lundy and the Trial That Followed, 1827
BHW 37: October 14, 2023
CONTENT WARNING: Near-fatal physical violence and psychological abuse
On January 9, 1827, Baltimore’s leading domestic slave trader Austin Woolfolk ran into Baltimore’s leading abolitionist Benjamin Lundy on the street. In his Baltimore based anti-slavery newspaper The Genius of Universal Emancipation, Lundy had recently called Woolfolk “that monster in human shape.” He added, “Hereafter let no man speak of the humanity of Woolfolk,” among other deprecating characterizations. [2] One week later, on January 9, Woolfolk observed Lundy heading to the post office in downtown Baltimore after work and yelled at him. After a brief verbal exchange, Woolfolk threw the substantially smaller Lundy to the ground then started choking him, beating him, and foot-stomping his head and face. It appears Lundy was near death when bystanders pulled Woolfolk off. [3] In the court case that followed, Woolfolk pled guilty to assault but claimed it was justified based on defamation. The judge largely agreed, charging Woolfolk one dollar plus court fees. For comparison, Woolfolk regularly sold enslaved young adult male human beings for $300 to $350. [4] According to court records, the presiding Judge Brice added: “that he had never seen a case in which the provocation was greater than the present—that if abusive language could ever be a justification for a battery, this was that case.” [5] This case sheds light on the relative social positions of these individuals and their occupations in antebellum Baltimore City. It also speaks to the developing relationship between citizens, freedom of the press, and the legal system in this period.
Austin Woolfolk started trafficking enslaved people through Baltimore in 1815, at age nineteen. Between then and the 1830s he became the most productive domestic slave trader in the city. He also built one of the most successful slave trading companies in the country. [6] Slave trading became the Woolfolk family business, and the Woolfolks expanded operations to Louisiana and all of Maryland. All throughout, Austin headed the operation and made his headquarters in Baltimore. It was likely the Port of Baltimore’s extensive shipping capacities that drew him to the city. While he started his Baltimore work by trafficking enslaved people over land, it was once he innovated the domestic slave trade switch to maritime shipping that his business really took off. [7] Woolfolk’s operations grew in tandem with the city’s export trade as Atlantic cotton and bulk shipping surged. Baltimore to New Orleans became his main route, and it was a highly profitable. [8] Historian William Calderhead estimates that from 1819 to 1832, Woolfolk’s most successful years, “he sent 2,288 slaves to the expanding Louisiana market. That was a good 53 percent of the 4,304 slaves that were shipped [from Baltimore] to New Orleans in those years.” [9] Operating on this large scale, Woolfolk profitably integrated himself fully into the socio-economic hierarchies of Baltimore City and New Orleans.
Benjamin Lundy was a Quaker abolitionist known for publishing his anti-slavery newspaper, The Genius of Universal Emancipation. He moved the paper from Tennessee to Baltimore in October 1824 and established himself as a prominent anti-slavery voice in the city. [10] The main problem for Lundy was that many influential Baltimoreans did not want the abolition of slavery. His paper had significant national reach along the East Coast, but his Baltimore socio-economic impact was minimal. Nevertheless, his commitment to anti-slavery was unshakable. In his paper, he recalled his lifelong vow to fight for abolition. Referring to himself in the third person as the editor of the paper, Lundy wrote that: “made acquainted with the cruelties and despotism of slavery… he made a solemn vow to Almighty God, that, if favored with health and strength, he would break at least one link of that ponderous chain of oppression.” [11] His Quaker upbringing and beliefs clearly contributed to his views on slavery. As historian Merton L. Dillon argues, “Lundy had kept his Quaker manners; he kept his Quaker conscience, too.” [12] Lundy activated these humanitarian and religious sympathies when he encountered the plight of enslaved people and the cruelty of the domestic slave trade.
Popular reactions to the Woolfolk-Lundy trial reflect that Woolfolk was greatly respected in the Baltimore business community while abolitionists like Lundy were not. As historian Edward E. Baptist points out, “Austin Woolfolk’s corporate organization included systematic channels of communication and exchange, widespread advertising, consistent pricing, cash payments, and fixed locations. He and his relatives concentrated people at fixed points in preparation for making large-scale shipments.” [13] This elaborate Baltimore based enterprise required strong business connections with shipping merchants, jail officials, bankers, and other powerful people around Baltimore. Meanwhile, Lundy’s anti-slavery newspaper relied on contributions from subscribers scattered along the East Coast. Being anti-slavery did not correlate with money, power, or influence. When Judge Brice justified his light one-dollar sentence for Woolfolk, he emphasized the positive contributions of the domestic slave trade to the State of Maryland. Brice said, “that Lundy had no right to reproach him in such abusive language for carrying on a lawful trade—that the trade itself was beneficial to the state, as it removed many rogues and vagabonds who were a nuisance in the state.” [14] Brice and Woolfolk were both relatively wealthy Baltimoreans who presumably enjoyed the lifestyle enabled by their relation to the local economy. The domestic slave trade was a significant contributor to this economy. Brice, along with local newspapers, generally treated the domestic slave trade as a positive good in this case. [15]
In addition to establishing how Lundy and Woolfolk fit into antebellum Baltimore’s socio-economic order, this case also provides insights into the developing relationship between citizens, defamation law, and the freedom of the press. After Judge Brice handed down Woolfolk’s sentence, he encouraged him to bring charges of libel against Lundy before the Grand Jury. This raises questions about the application of First Amendment rights in antebellum defamation cases. Ultimately, the Grand Jury chose not to move forward with the libel charges. [16] However, that Brice suggested them implies there was a considerable argument that Lundy’s harsh rhetoric went beyond the parameters of freedom of the press or freedom of speech as granted by the First Amendment. As historian Ford Risley points out regarding legislation restricting antislavery publications throughout the South, “dozens of communities passed legislation with seemingly no thought of First Amendment guarantees.” He cites ordinances legislating punishments for circulating anti-slavery literature in South Carolina and elsewhere during the antebellum period. [17] It is unclear if any comparable legislation existed in Maryland at this time. Another complicating factor was this being a transitional period nationwide as the rise of party politics brought increased emphasis on freedom of the press to inform the populace. Judge Brice had the difficult position of weighing the emphasis on press freedom to inform public opinion with his own interpretation of the law of libel. [18] Rather than reconcile the two, he urged Woolfolk to go to the Grand Jury.
Austin Woolfolk’s bloody physical assault on Benjamin Lundy on January 9, 1827, literally brought together leading proponents of the domestic slave trade and abolitionism in antebellum Baltimore City. The trial that followed shows that Woolfolk occupied a socio-economic position substantially above Lundy in Baltimore society. The case also demonstrates how the domestic slave trade was finely integrated into antebellum economies of the United States. Furthermore, the case raises questions about the relationships between citizens and the press in this period. It is not surprising that Austin Woolfolk physically assaulted and seemingly nearly killed Benjamin Lundy on the streets of Baltimore. Woolfolk was seven inches taller than Lundy with an overall larger build. Lundy was raised as a non-violent devout Quaker whereas violence was a foundational part of how Woolfolk made his living. [19] What is perhaps surprising to the twenty-first century reader considering this case is how the slave trade was seemingly treated as akin to any other reputable business, while abolitionists were treated as a marginal activist group. It seems it was difficult or unattractive for some contemporaries to differentiate between what twenty-first century readers would consider repugnant or virtuous. This is something worth keeping in mind when considering what it means to be an activist amidst power structures of American capitalism.
[1] Austin Woolfolk, “Petition of Austin Woolfolk,” April 19, 1826, National Archives, NAID: 6807005, 1826 SPC, unrestricted access, https://catalog.archives.gov/id/6807005.
[2] “EXECUTION OF WILLIAM BOWSER,” Genius of Universal Emancipation (Baltimore, MD), January 2, 1827, no. 14, vol. 2, 110, https://archive.org/details/sim_genius-of-universal-emancipation_1827-01-02_2_14.
[3] Note that while these descriptions of the violence are published in Lundy’s newspaper, it is the official statement of events provided in court that is printed, deemed truthful under penalty of perjury: “TRIAL OF WOOLFOLK,” Genius of Universal Emancipation (Baltimore, MD), February 24, 1827, no. 18, vol. 2, 142, https://archive.org/details/sim_genius-of-universal-emancipation_1827-02-24_2_18.
[4] T. Stephen Whitman, The Price of Freedom: Slavery and Manumission in Baltimore and Early National Maryland (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1997), 77, Kindle edition.
[5] “WOOLFOLK’S TRIAL, &c.,” Genius of Universal Emancipation (Baltimore, MD), March 31, 1827, no. 22, vol. 2, 174, https://archive.org/details/sim_genius-of-universal-emancipation_1827-03-31_2_22.
[6] Calvin Schermerhorn, The Business of Slavery and the Rise of American Capitalism, 1815-1860 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015), 33.
[7] Seth Rockman, Scraping By: Wage Labor, Slavery, and Survival in Early Baltimore (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009), 236, https://archive.org/details/scrapingbywagela0000rock.
[8] Schermerhorn, The Business of Slavery, 44-45.
[9] William Calderhead, “The Role of the Professional Slave Trader in a Slave Economy: Austin Woolfolk, Case Study,” Civil War History 23, no. 3 (September 1977): 201, https://www.pdcnet.org/cwh/content/cwh_1977_0023_0003_0195_0211.
[10] Bruce Rosen, “Abolition and Colonization, the Years of Conflict: 1829-1834,” Phylon 33, no. 2 (2nd Qtr., 1972): 182, https://www.jstor.org/stable/273347.
[11] “MEMORIAL FROM WESTERN VIRGINIA,” Genius of Universal Emancipation (Baltimore, MD), November 1832, no. 1, vol. 3, 8, https://archive.org/details/sim_genius-of-universal-emancipation_1832-11_3_1.
[12] Merton L. Dillon, Benjamin Lundy and the Struggle for Negro Freedom (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1966), 5, https://archive.org/details/benjaminlundystr0000dill.
[13] Edward E. Baptist, The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of American Capitalism (New York: Basic Books, 2014), 183, https://archive.org/details/halfhasneverbeen0000bapt_c1d5.
[14] “WOOLFOLK’S TRIAL, &c.,” Genius of Universal Emancipation, 174.
[15] Schermerhorn, The Business of Slavery, 62.
[16] “WOOLFOLK’S TRIAL, &c.,” Genius of Universal Emancipation, 174.
[17] Ford Risley, Abolition and the Press: The Moral Struggle Against Slavery (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2008), 28-29, https://archive.org/details/abolitionpressmo0000risl.
[18] Andrew J. King, “The Law of Slander in Early Antebellum America,” The American Journal of Legal History 35, no. 1 (January 1991): 43, https://www.jstor.org/stable/845581.
[19] Schermerhorn, The Business of Slavery, 62.
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