The Trial of Frederick Eberle

Language, Patriotism and Citizenship in Philadelphia's German Community, 1790 to 1830

Friederike Baer

• Publisher: NYU Press
• Year: 2008
• ISBN:
  9780814791189
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

"This is microhistory at its best. Friederike Baer has selected a single event and brilliantly used it to explore the larger culture and society of the time. With great clarity and insight Baer has investigated multicultural issues of language and the assimilation of immigrants that are as relevant for us today as they were to Americans two centuries ago. This is a very important and timely book."Gordon S. Wood, Brown UniversityIn the summer of 1816, the state of Pennsylvania tried 59 German-Americans on charges of conspiracy and rioting. The accused had, according to the indictment, conspired to prevent with physical force the introduction of the English language into the largest German church in North America, Philadelphia's Lutheran congregation of St. Michael's and Zion. The trial marked the climax of an increasingly violent conflict over language choice in Philadelphia's German community, with members bitterly divided into those who favored the exclusive use of German in their church, and those who preferred occasional services in English. At trial, witnesses, lawyers, defendants, and the judge explicitly linked language to class, citizenship, patriotism, religion, and violence. Mining many previously unexamined sources, including German-language writings, witness testimonies, and the opinions of prominent legal professionals, Friederike Baer uses legal conflict as a prism through which to explore the significance of language in the early American republic. The Trial of Frederick Eberle reminds us that debates over language have always been about far more than just language. Baer demonstrates that the 1816 trial was not a battle between Americans and immigrants, or German-speakers and English-speakers. Instead, the individuals involved in the case seized and exploited English and German as powerful symbols of competing cultural, economic, and social interests.

1

Dragged into Courts of Justice Unnecessarily

The Trial

In March of 1816, several Germans belonging to Philadelphia’s Lutheran congregation of St. Michael’s and Zion formally accused seventy-three of their fellow congregants of conspiracy and assault. After more than six months of unrelenting intimidation and harassment in response to their request for occasional English services in their shared church, the men finally turned to the law for relief and support. Their formal complaint before the Mayor’s Court led to the inquiry of a grand jury to determine whether there was sufficient evidence to warrant an indictment on the charges.¹

Not surprisingly, the grand jury investigation only served to intensify the antagonism between the two parties. After giving his testimony before the Mayor’s Court, the anti-English man Tobias Bealer, for example, went to John Seemann’s tavern on Brewer’s Alley, near Fourth Street. The tavern was a popular gathering place for him and other members of the congregation; it was close to the church and, as Bealer noted, Seemann, who could scarcely speak English, was a member of the German party. Bealer assured the court that there had been “no riot there on returning from mayor’s court.” However, during cross examination, he admitted that there had been “a little hard talking,” which culminated in a fight in which he “was one of the combatants,” and that “they all were engaged.”²

Indeed, once the conflict entered the court, many Germans lost the little hope that they had to settle the conflict amicably. Still, knowing that the trial could do more damage than good, a few members of both parties contemplated whether it could be avoided. The storekeeper Henry Lehr remembered that, some time after the English party had brought charges against their antagonists, the pro-English man John Long had called upon him to ask what Lehr thought “about this noise,” and whether he believed it could be settled. Lehr replied that “he would be for the making up, of course,” to which Long replied that “we would be for the making up, if it could be done.” Lehr then recalled a subsequent conversation in which he and Long discussed the possibility of resolving the conflict with Charles Eberle, a prominent supporter of English and, according to the records, not related to the three defendants Frederick, Jacob, and Philip Eberle. According to Lehr, Charles Eberle claimed that the synod and ministers had advised the English party that “they should make it up, it would be the best way to do, if it could be settled.” Lehr responded to Eberle, “the best way is, you have taken it to court, you can take it away again, you can take the suits out of court.”³ John Long apparently tried to work matters out privately until shortly before the commencement of the trial. John K. Helmuth, Pastor Helmuth’s son, corroborated this claim that the English party hoped to settle the conflict amicably. He testified that he

“had a conversation with [Long] about two or Three weeks ago, he seemed to express a desire that the dispute should be settled, and wished that my father should use his influence to have it settled, if possible. He did not exactly state the terms, he said, ‘that some of the leading men of each party should meet together with a view of having it settled.[’] ”⁴

The fact that nothing came of these efforts was partly due to the inability to discuss the matter openly once criminal charges had been filed. Lehr actually “did not think any harm” of English preaching, but he was reluctant to talk with any pro-English men. The reason for the silence, he argued, was the fear of being charged with a crime or of jeopardizing a pending case. Lehr testified that “I could not give much advice, I was sued myself and I did not like to say much. [Long] said, ‘people did not like to say much;’ why said I, it is no wonder; if people say any thing, there is harm made of it, they are bound over, &c.”⁵ The possibility of criminal charges and time in the workhouse silenced members of the German party who otherwise may have been open to negotiation. Ultimately, Lehr believed that it was entirely up to the English party to “take the suits out of court.” After all, they had initiated the legal conflict.

The English party, of course, claimed that they had been compelled to bring legal charges because of their opponents’ behavior. From the defendants’ perspective, such expressions of hope for reconciliation had always been dubious; they questioned the plaintiff’s professed desire to “make up” from the very beginning. After the legal charges were filed, the English party’s rejection of compromise seemed beyond doubt. The accused, in turn, reacted with intense anger and hostility. Godfrey Cope, for example, remembered that the defendant Conrad Weckerle accused him of being “a d——d eternal rascal for bringing the suit in court.”⁶ Similarly, John Uhler described what happened after testifying before the grand jury. He recalled that

“a certain gentleman at the corner of Race street came to [Conrad] Weckerle and said, ‘Weckerle, you are a Dutchman;’ we went in, and I said to Weckerle, ‘try to settle this affair, for I really dreaded it; if I could do anything at midnight I would do it;’ he seemed to be in a great passion, but I said to him, ‘If you will hear me, I will hear you;’ he was making a great noise. At Vine Street, he caught me by the elbow, there were some gentlemen by, he related a great story; ‘here, gentlemen, here’s a man always says, make it up, make it up, but he holds a stick over one’s head, breaks their head or gives a black eye, and then says, make it up.’ ”⁷

Weckerle claimed that Uhler was professing his conciliatory intentions as he was beating the anti-English men over the head, literally and figuratively. Ironically, then, hopes for a peaceful resolution of the conflict began to disappear the moment the accusers filed their complaint before the Mayor’s Court.

The German party’s apprehension about the suit and the intentions of their opponents stemmed in part from the Mayor’s Court’s image as a conservative and elitist institution. First, the grand jury not only conducted its inquiry in secret, but the court only allowed the testimonies of the plaintiffs. The accused did not have an opportunity to explain their side in this initial step in the legal process. More importantly, the Mayor’s Court was dominated by individuals who represented privileged and prosperous members of the community. As a result, it was generally regarded as an institution in which a fair investigation of criminal charges was not necessarily guaranteed. Only a few years earlier, in 1806, a group of journeymen shoemakers had been tried for conspiracy before the court.⁸ The journeymen had organized a strike in response to their employers’ plan to reduce wages during the slow winter months. The leaders of the protest were tried, and convicted, for conspiring to raise their wages. From the commencement of the conflict, the fate of the shoemakers was exploited by the radical newspaper editor and fervent Jeffersonian William Duane as an example of labor’s growing subjugation to the needs of employers.⁹ Over the course of several months, Duane defended the cause of the journeymen in his popular newspaper Aurora. To him, the Mayor’s Court represented the partiality with which the elite regarded the struggle between journeymen and their employers. Duane was especially incensed by the prejudiced stance of the presiding judge, Moses Levy. His instructions to the jury were so biased, Duane wrote, that it seemed as though he “had been paid by the master-shoemakers for his discourse in the court.”¹⁰ To a significant degree, Duane argued, the outcome of the shoemakers’ trial was a result of the court’s class nature.

Ten years later, when the German Lutherans presented their case, the Mayor’s Court remained an elite institution. Seven of the nineteen jury members during the 1816 session were merchants, making it the largest single occupational group. They were joined by three printers as well as several artisans, including a tailor, an iron monger, a saddler, an engraver, and a bricklayer, some of whom listed two addresses in the city directory.¹¹ Moreover, eighteen of the nineteen men were not of German stock. The sole German member was Henry K. Helmuth, Pastor Helmuth’s son, a Federalist merchant who tried to stay out of the conflict.¹² The German party had every reason to suspect that the court was unlikely to sympathize with individuals who had allegedly resorted to violence to reach their objectives.

Over a period of at least five days, at least thirty-three men appeared before the Mayor’s Court to testify.¹³ Most of them would also serve as witnesses in the subsequent trial. On the basis of their statements, the grand jury concluded that at some point early in the conflict, the accused men had formulated a plan

to acquire for themselves unjust and illegal authority and power in the said congregation; and to distress, oppress and aggrieve the peaceful citizens of this commonwealth, also members of the said congregation, and to prevent them from the free, lawful and proper enjoyment of the rights and privileges thereof.¹⁴

The conspirators had then met on September 26, 1815, the first date for which the grand jury found evidence of criminal activity. That day, the indictment charged, the defendants had

unlawfully assembled and met together, and being so assembled and met together, did, then and there, unjustly and unlawfully, and oppressively, conspire, confederate and agree together to prevent, by force and arms, the use of the English language in the worship of Almighty God, among the said congregation, and for that purpose did, then and there determine, and firmly bind themselves before God, and solemnly to each other to defend with their bodies and lives, the German divine worship, and to oppose by every means, lawful and unlawful, the introduction of any other language, into the churches.¹⁵

That some men had pledged accordingly was not a matter of dispute since this fact had been recorded in a petition that pleaded with St. Michael’s and Zion’s corporation, which consisted of twelve elected wardens, nine elected elders, and the two pastors, to support the battle against English.¹⁶ However, the defendants’ use of the phrase “mit Leib und Leben,” or “with their bodies and lives,” soon became a matter of fierce debate. While the defendants described it as a harmless saying, the state saw it as powerful evidence for the violent, and therefore criminal, intentions of the group.

The second occasion of unlawful activity identified by the inquest occurred almost five months later, at the annual election of church wardens and elders on January 6, 1816. That day, the indictment charged, the fifty-nine Germans did

unlawfully and oppressively, and with force and violence, riotously and routously, make and raise, and cause to be made and raised a great noise, tumult, riot, and disturbance, then and there, in further pursuance of the said unlawful and oppressive conspiracy, combination, confederacy and agreement so formed and made as aforesaid, [and] did assault, beat and wound certain members of the said congregation.¹⁷

There was sufficient evidence to charge fifty-nine of the seventy-three Germans with conspiracy to deprive fellow citizens and congregants of their rights. Moreover, linked to this accusation were charges of assault and, most shockingly, the suggestion that the defendants were prepared to commit murder. The indictment thus contained two counts, including one count for conspiracy with an action designed “for the better carrying” of the conspiracy “into effect and execution,” and one count for “conspiracy only, without laying any overt act.”¹⁸ Most of the fifty-nine accused were initially required to post bond (later lifted), and all were required to pledge their appearance before any court that would be appointed for the trial. In March 1816, the congregational and private conflict over language was suddenly transformed into a legal and public contest.

The state took the accusations very seriously. After all, such violence not only led to “great damage, oppression and grievance of the members of the German Evangelical Lutheran Congregation, in and near Philadelphia.” More importantly, the events in the congregation also served as an “evil and pernicious example of all others, in the like case offending, against the peace and dignity of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”¹⁹ Indeed, the realization that Christian brethren were willing to kill fellow congregants over a language dispute, and that they pledged so “before God,” was unsettling not just to German Lutherans. In the Eberle trial, the prosecution would effectively exploit such concerns over general disorder that presumably threatened to undermine the stability not just of a German congregation but, indeed, the entire American republic.

The lawyer James Carson believed that the trial would attract considerable interest beyond the German community. Carson, who in 1816 was the city’s recorder of deeds, was also a prominent attorney and personally acquainted with both legal teams and the justice.²⁰ He had no formal connection with the trial but may very well have been interested in it because it offered an opportunity to hear some of Philadelphia’s most highly respected legal minds at work. Carson attended the trial diligently and recorded the proceedings in shorthand, a skill that was becoming increasingly popular among lawyers, merchants, and other professionals at that time. He had learned it from a manual published by Thomas Lloyd in Philadelphia in 1792. Lloyd used shorthand in the recording of the congressional debates as well as the boot and shoe-maker’s trial that had aroused Duane’s tirades against the Mayor’s Court in 1806. He advertised the system as being “so easy that any man of ordinary capacity may clearly comprehend it in half an hour […] the whole art being comprised in eighteen simple characters.” When Lloyd proposed publication of a revised manual in 1818 he listed James Carson as one of three references who offered to attest to the “excellence of this system.”²¹ The result of Carson’s labors, The Trial of Frederick Eberle, including 240 pages of testimony, arguments, and supporting material, was published in 1817.²²

Trial reports had only recently been embraced by American printers as potentially lucrative ventures. Most of the few trial reports that were produced in America before the 1790s were reprints of London reports. The 1790s saw an increase in American-produced trial reports, with a particular emphasis on sensational and lurid cases, especially those involving murder and rape.²³ The Eberle case had few of the shocking elements that made violent crime stories so appealing to a broad audience. There were disorder, threats of murder, and, of course, the conspiracy charge, but no murder, no rape, and no similarly violent crime that lent itself to vivid and shocking descriptions of human depravity. The main selling point of the Eberle trial report was, according to an advertisement, the appearance of some of the most prominent legal minds of the age and “the learned and interesting speeches” these “gentlemen” had shared with their courtroom audience.²⁴ Indeed, while overall Carson seems to have recorded the witness testimonies in their entirety, he generally did not include questions, sometimes slipped into summarized statements, and may have skipped a witness or two. The attorneys’ closing statements and the justice’s instructions to the jury, on the other hand, are treated as examples of fine courtroom oratory and thus recorded with great care.

On the morning of July 9, 1816, the trial began in Philadelphia, in the statehouse’s old assembly room.²⁵ It was held at a nisi prius court, a trial court in which cases were tried to a jury before a single judge.²⁶ Since 1810, circuit court judges had nisi prius responsibilities in Pennsylvania, with the exception of Philadelphia, where one of the three state supreme court justices was required to preside over such trials for several months every year.²⁷ The Eberle trial was held before Pennsylvania Supreme Court justice Jasper Yeates.

Yeates (1745–1817) was the son of a Philadelphia merchant engaged in overseas trade.²⁸ He was educated at the College of Philadelphia, where he received a B.A. in 1761 and an M.A. in 1763. In 1765, Yeates moved to Lancaster, where he resided until his death. That same year, Yeates was admitted to the Lancaster bar on the recommendation of his preceptor Edward Shippen, Jr., future chief justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. By the time Yeates was appointed to the state’s highest court in 1791, he had not only been practicing law for almost three decades, but he had also served as an Indian commissioner during the Revolution, and as a delegate to the 1787 state convention, which ratified the United States Constitution. In addition, in 1794 he was one of three commissioners appointed by George Washington to explore the most expedient way to end the Whiskey Rebellion. As an ardent Federalist, Yeates was a frequent target of att...