LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ^
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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
JoTHAM Warren Horton.
^^ OF WASH18»iS>
The presence and power for righteousness of
good men upon the earth, is second only to the direct
influence of the hfe of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Except for occasional illustrations of man in
exalted action, the monotonous routine of daily toil
might so root humanity in the soil of its ever present
material necessities as to dwarf the spiritual nature
which is the source of all real heroism.
The Kingdom of Heaven cometh not with ob-
servation. The truths of Christianity and related social
reforms are so gentl}^ and widely pervasive in our time,
that many who reap the present blessings of christian
civilization may forget its cost.
Aside from the sad duty of throwing laurels on
the grave of our beloved brother, the conviction is irre-
sistible that the young men of this age should not
forget the stern lessons of the past: if they would
worthily join in the Gloria Patria and devout Te Deum
of this victorious century, it will be well that they listen
to the Passion Music of its patriots and martyrs.
J. Ellen Foster.
FROM PRESIDENT HOVEY,
Of the Baptist Theoi^ogicai, Seminary.
Newton Centre, Feb. 9, i8g2.
Mrs. Charles IV. Fierce :
Dear Friend :
I have read with deep interest the papers concern-
i7ig the death and funeral of Mr. Horto7i. Fhey seem
to me exceedingly appropriate and valuable a7id I am
glad you propose to put them in a form which will
enable others to read and preserve thejn. Your brother,
my dear and honored pupil, ivas a Clnistian martyr, a?id
I believe the lesson of fidelity which his death teaches
ought to be preserved arid learned by this generation.
Respectfully and cordially yours,
Rev. Jotham Warren Horton.
Rev. Jotham Warren Horton was the son of
Rev. Jotham Horton, at one time pastor of Broomfield
St., M. E. Church, was born in Boston, and died there
He was for many ^-ears a minister of the M. E.
Church in New England, in which he became a pioneer
abolitionist, and with his gentle but heroic wife, bore
the burdens and shared the sacrifices of that form of
His eldest son, Jotham W., died a martvr to
freedom by the hands of a mob in New Orleans August
5, 1866. At the time, he was pastor of the Coloseum
The grandfather was a shipsmith and did the
iron work on the historic frigate Constitution. The
ship yard where lapped the waters of the bay, lay only
a few rods from the humble home.
That site, now covered with granite wharves
and commercial store houses, was the nursery of
The anvil chorus there rehearsed and rever-
berating thro' the years has been the inspiration to
many a deed of valor.
The grandmother, being of the Warren family,
sang often to him the remembered songs of the Revo-
lution and could but leave to her descendants the
strongest love of liberty and devotion to the cause of
Last Hours of a New Ori^eans Martyr.
AN AFFECTING SKETCH.
" Good-by, Emmie," lie said, " I shall not be
gone long. It can't take more than ten minutes to
open the Convention, and then I shall come right
away. Look for me at three o'clock, at farthest," and
the young pastor kissed his wife and hurried away to
That day was destined to be one among the
most memorable in the annals of human wickedness
since the famous St. Bartholomew's.
The members of the Union Convention had
looked forward to it with apprehension. They knew
that the spirit of the late rel^ellion still survived in
New Orleans, and they could not hope that they
should be permitted to assemble without some moles-
tation from disorderly individuals, but they had no
suspicions that the masses of the city would rise
against them, organized for deliberate bloodshed.
They did not know that all the arms had been bought
up, till the gun-shops contained not so much as a
pocket-pistol. They did not know that the Mayor had
telegraphed to the President that there would certainly
be a riot, and had received the assurance that the
military would not interfere with the civil power.
They did not know that the police force had been in-
creased by the addition of a gang of blood-thirsty men,
and that the municipal authorities had agreed upon
signals, and arranged to begin the riot themselves.
Watched by no suspicion, and awed by no Butler's
strong right hand, the conspirators were suffered to
perfect their preparations, and when the morning of
the 30tli of July dawned, the treacherous officials ap-
peared at the station-house fully armed, and waiting
the opportunity for their bloody work.
The pastor of the Coloseum Place Church,
Rev. Jotham W. Horton, had been requested to open
the Convention with prayer. Moved by the warmest
christian sympathy for the freedmen, this young New
England minister had gone to the south with his wife,
to give hi«HDest euergies to their welfare. He was a
man of sincere piety and a large heart ; pure as a little
child, self-denying where duty was concerned to an ex-
tent that often made him suffer, and so peaceable that
though repeatedly insulted, and even once fired upon,
and though conscious that he was fatally marked by
nialigant disloyalists, he would never go armed.
After taking leave of his wife, Mr. Horton pro-
ceeded in the cars from his residence in Carrolton to
the city. Ever apt to look hopefully on the worst pros-
pects, and slow to suspect evil of his fellow-men, he
had felt no fears of injury for this day, beyond perhaps
a forcible seizure and commitment to the parish prison.
The hour arriving for opening the Convention,
Mr. Horton having entered the hall, stood up to offer
prayer just as the clock struck twelve. Strongly and
fervently his words came up, breathing petitions for
the peace of his country and the deliverance of the
oppressed. God heard him, but with that prayer His
servant's work ended, and then He gave him for a little
while to the cruel wrath of his enemies, that He might
make that wrath praise Him. Immediately on the
sounding of the stroke of noon from the city clocks,
and simultaneously with the opening of Mr. Horton's
prayer, the armed police filed out of the several
stations, three hundred strong, and marched toward
the institute. Some of them entered the hall during
the prayer, a mob in the meantime rapidly collect-
ing round the door, and hardly had the good man
uttered the closing " amen " when a miscreant fired a
bullet at his head.
There could be no longer any doubt of the in-
tentions of the officers and the mob. The latter as-
sailed the windows and crushed in at the doors.
" Kill him ! kill him ! " they yelled. " Shoot every
cursed Yankee in the house ! " Just then all the bells
in the city began to toll. It was the preconcerted
signal of slaughter, and now the horrors of the day
The disloyalist ruffians rushed in with pistols,
knives and clubs, and commenced their appointed
work of murder. Resistance was hopeless. The Con-
vention broke up in the wildest confusion, some of its
members falling dead, and many mortally wounded in
the hall, while a few who could, fled. The Union men
saw that they were doomed. Instead of protecting
them, and arresting the rioters at the firing of the first
shot, as with their force they could easily have done,
the police headed the attack, and there is reason to
believe that one of their number fired the first shot.
Mr. Horton received five balls in his body and
fell. These balls were fired by policemen. Not satis-
fied with their work, they seized him, battered his head
with their billies, stabbed him, kicked and dragged
him on the pavements to the first station, the mob fol-
lowing behind, cursing, beating and trampling him
with their shoes. Thrusting him into a cell, he was
left mangled and senseless.
Meantime the shopkeepers of the city had closed
their stores, and strolled about, gratified spectators of
the fiendish carnival, greeting the murderers of Horton
and every squad of policemen that passed them drag-
ging a bleeding loyalist, with shouts of " Good, good !
Kill the white nigger."
Around the Mechanics' Institute and in the
adjacent streets upwards of one hundred negroes lay
weltering in their blood, and the dead carts drove by
loaded with warm corpses, and bodies of the wounded,
still writhing with life, all tumbled indiscriminately
In one of these carts the mangled Horton was
fiung, after lying awhile at the station-house, and under
a stifling load of dead and wounded negroes, his
stomach crushed in by a blow of a heavy plank, he
was taken to the Marine Hospital.
Furious with the taste of blood, the police and
their fellow Thugs raged up and down some of the
streets of the city, calling out the names of well known
loyalists, declaring their intention to slaughter every
Union man in New Orleans. In the midst of the ex-
citement and carnage, the bayonets of Federal troops
appeared, and further murder was prevented. The
mob dispersed, and the blood-stained streets and bat-
tered windows and muffled groans from distant hospi-
tal wards alone testified to the horrors of the 30th of
As the hours of that bloody day passed, the
wife of Mr. Horton waited at her home, five miles
distant, for his return. Three o'clock came, the limit
he had set for his absence. She looked long and anx-
iously to catch a glimpse of him approaching along the
familiar street. He did not come, and her anxiety
grew into alarm. To add to her terror, a breathless
messenger arrived at her residence, and warned her
that she would not be safe there that night, for trouble
had happened at the State House, and the secessionists
were searching for all the Unionists in the city and
suburbs. Hastily summoning the negro servant, she
told her to bar the doors and windows, and with a few
hurried preparations then set off' for the city, to learn
the fate of her husband.
Having formerly boarded with a Mrs. E ,
she took her way first to her house and made know^n
her anxious errand. She was told of the riot and
massacre, and at once feared the worst. Several }' oung
men who boarded at the house volunteered to search
for Mr. Horton. They returned late in the evening,
but could give her no news, save that he had been
badly Avounded. They dared not communicate their
own convictions of his fate.
Only the darkness of the dangerous streets and
the restraint of friends prevented the almost distracted
woman from going forth that night to continue the
search herself. iVs it was, the night brought no sleep
to her eyes, and as soon as it was morning she started
on her sad errand.
Information had been received through the city
papers that Gen. Baird, tlie military commandant,
had released all who had been arrested and confined
by the police, giving the name of her husband among
the rest, and stating that he had returned home.
Acting on this representation, she went alone to Carrol-
ton, but only to return bv the next train ; he was not
there. Without waiting for breakfast she set off for
Gen. Baird's headquarters ; a young Methodist clergy-
man, Mr. Henry, one of Mrs. E 's boarders, insist-
ing on being her company.
No sooner did Gen. Baird see Mrs. Horton and
knew who she was, than he ex])ressed mucli surprise
that her husband had not been seen, and told her he
had ordered his release ; perhaps she would find him
at the City Hall. To this place she immediately went,
but she searched in vain. He had not been there.
She then hurried to the first police station, determined
to wring from the brutal officers a confession of what
they had done with her husband. Entering the office,
she forced her way within the rails, and asked of the
clerk what had been done with her husband. The
man declared that " Preacher Horton " had been sent
by him to Charity Hospital, and she at once hurried
thither. Again she was disappointed. He had not
been seen there ! (The truth was, the cart which car-
ried Mr. Hor ton's body had stopped there, and been
sent away, as it appeared to be occupied only by
blacks.) The horrible idea now suggested itself to the
afflicted woman that her husband had been conveyed
away with a load of dead bodies, and had been buried
alive, but, as a last resort, she determined to visit the
Marine Hospital. This was in a low and distant part
of the city, and devoted entirely to negroes, and she
could not have believed he would be carried there by
his worst enemies, but at a friend's suggestion she
sought the place, still accompanied by Mr. Henr}^
Arrived at the gate, she was refused entrance,
but catching a glimpse of Dr. Harris, the head surgeon,
whom she knew, she called to him and asked him if her
husband was there. Dr. Harris could give her no posi-
tive assurance, but immediately ordered the servant to
admit her. Forgetting her weariness in her joy that
her long quest had at last succeeded, the faithful
woman bounded up the steps and without waiting to
be directed, rushed in among the patients, found out
her husband, and sank exhausted upon his bosom.
What a spectacle ! The form she loved a bruised and
helpless mass of flesh and blood, his head swollen
to the size of two, his left arm useless and his right
shattered and mangled. He moved perpetually about
with the restless, nervous gestures of a dreaming infant.
So badly trampled and beaten was his head and face
that his eyes were blinded, and a painful retching, pro-
duced b}" the injuries to his stomach, obstructed his
breath and speech. But through all the anguish and
darkness of his wreck he knew his wife. That she
should have recognized him is a miracle to all who
do not understand the inspired sagacity of a wife's
" Wipe my face, Emmie," he gasped, as if she
had been bending over him ever since he fell.
Worn and broken-hearted, the poor woman sat
down by her husband's side, and tried to strengthen
herself for the task of soothing and comforting his last
hours, for she knew too well that he could not live.
Nineteen long hours she had searched for him, and
now to find him thus !
Few comforts were to be found in that hospital,
though the attendants, seeing her distress, evidently
meant to treat her kindly. Up to this time the woun-
ded man had lain in the Warden's room, but on the
next morning, which was Wednesday, he was moved to
a more airy apartment. The operation of trepanning
was then performed on his head, though with little
hope of permanent benefit. When this was over and
the burden ui^on his brain was thus relieved, the
sufferer looked up and repeated :
" When I can read ray title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
" Should earth against my soul engage "
Here weakness prevented him, and he whispered to his
wife, " You finish it."
He slept a good deal, but seemed always con-
scious of his wife's presence, frequently putting up his
restless hand to touch her face, and remind himself, in
his blindness, of her loved features. When he talked,
it was of his unfinished work, his conviction of the jus-
tice of the cause in which he fell, his anxieties for his
wife, left alone in a cruel world, and of his enemies and
murderers always forgivingly, as if they knew^ not
what they did. At different times, too, he spoke of the
riot, relating facts and incidents as I have set them
It afflicted him much to leave his w4fe penniless.
He had had a little money in his pocket when he
came to the Convention, but that, with the gold studs
in his bosom, had been plundered by some of the
ruffians who took part in mutilating his person.
Thus he lingered until the sixth day after his
injury. When the morning of Sunday, the e5th of
August came, he remembered that he had an appoint-
ment to exchange pulpits with a colored brother in the
city, and said :
" Emmie, w^e must send word to Bro. Miles that
I can't come. I don't feet quite well enough to
As time went on, his mind began to wander,
and he fancied himself in his own pulpit. He invoked
the Divine Blessing, he gave out hymn and sung,
wounded and suffering as he was ; his wife, who wept
as she thought of the melody of his own fine voice,
joining him at his request, half choked by her tears.
Then he prayed with her, sung again, and preached,
taking for his text, " Out of the abundance of the heart
the mouth speaketh." After these exercises, he ex-
pressed his wish to close with the Lord's Supper, and
immediately began the beautiful ceremony. His wife,
anxious to gratify him, skillfully aided with such
meagre conveniences as were at hand, to carry out his
touching fancy. He partook with her what seemed
to him the symbolic bread and wine. #
" We both drink from the same cup, Emmie,"
Another hymn, a benediction, and the sufferer
began to grow weak, as if, indeed, his work was done.
" I'm going now, Emmie," he whispered. I'm
sorry you can't come with me. In the fall you'll
Then there were no more connected sentences, but
incoherent syllables of prayer, and whispers of saintly
hope, " In the vale — the vale — home yonder — good-
by," and at six o'clock that Sabbath evening the gentle-
spirited Horton fell asleep in Jesus.
Thus perished a martyr to freedom and equal
rights, as sincere and pure a man as God ever wel-
comed " through great tribulation " to the immortal
pleasures of His presence.
To the tender consideration of her friends, never
so numerous as now, and to the merciful consolation
of Almighty God, who never pitied her as He now
pities her, we commend the weeping widow, and pray
that she may long live to share the honor of her mar-
tyred husband's fame.
(From a Boston Journal.)
Funeral of the
Late Rev. Jotham W. Horton.
Tremont Temple (Boston) was nearly filled last
Wednesday, with those who had assembled to pay their
last respects to this martyr of liberty. On the platform
were seated about one hundred clergymen of various
denominations, and several prominent citizens of the
State. Directly in front of the stage were the remains,
enclosed in a metallic burial case, painted in imitation
of rosewood. The inscription simply read. Rev. Jotham
W. Horton, died August 5, 1866. Aged 40 years.
Previous to the ceremonies, the Dead March
in Saul was performed on the organ. The services
were opened with the singing of an appropriate anthem
by a quartette from the Temple choir. Rev. Mr.
Chapin, of New Orleans, of the committee of arrange-
ments, took occasion to remark that twenty years ago
the friends of freedom assembled in the same place to
mourn over the death of a martyr for liberty, Rev.
Charles T. Torrey, a son of Massachusetts, and that
again they were collected for a similar purpose.
The nineteenth Psalm was read by Rev. Mr.
Avery, and prayer offered by Rev. Dr. Eddy. Rev.
Baron Stow read the resolutions of the Conference of
Baptist ministers in Boston, and gave a brief sketch of
the career of the fallen hero. Addresses were made by
Rev. Drs. True and Kirk, full of earnestness, pathos
and sentiment awakened by the occasion. It had been
expected that Gov. Bullock would be present to speak,
but being unavoidably absent he sent the following
Boston, Aug. 28, 1866.
My Dear Sir :
I deeply regret that an engagement which
requires my absence from town to-morrow will prevent
my acceptance of the invitation of the committee of ar-
rangements to be present at the funeral services of the
late Rev. J. W. Horton, and address those who may be
If it were in my power to be with you, I might
well deem silence to be the most eloquent tribute I
could pay to his memory, and the most impressive
lesson to this community. His death speaks to us
all The pall that covers the battered remains of this
minister of the gospel needs only to be lifted, to awaken
emotions of shame and horror, and to instruct us in the
duties of our time.
He fell a martyr in the cause of freedom and
the rights of man, himself innocent, unprovoking,
abandoned b}^ government to the violence of a mob,
and murdered, as Gen. Sheridan has said, by the Mayor
and Police of New Orleans. The insatiate spirit of
slavery, surviving its own nominal destruction by the
Constitution of the land, has been permitted by Federal
authority to break forth with new violence, and massa-
cre our fellow-citizens, without even the pretext of
excuse which used to be pleaded when slavery had a
legal existence. If this state of things shall not
quicken our sensibility and conscience, I know not
By the ordination of Divine Providence the
blood of Massachusetts has sprinkled the altars of sac-
rifice in all our historic ages. It becomes our duty to
accept the instruction, and apply it. To us, among
whom he lived till he went forth on his mission of
mercy, the blood of Horton cries and pleads as to his
own kindred. It solemnly appeals to us to be faithful
in the cause of the rights of human nature for which
he laid down his hfe.
I have the honor to be, with great respect and
Very truly, Your obedient servant,
Alexander H. Bullock.
The pall-bearers w^ere, Lieut. Gov. Clafflin, Hon.
Joseph Pond, President of the Massachusetts Senate,
Prof. H. B. Hackett, Rev. J. C. Chapman, Rev. H. C.
Graves and Rev. Theron Brown.
Mr. Horton was born at Nantucket, April 25,
1826, and w^as the son of the late Rev. Jotham Horton.
He was converted while quite young, and afterwards
joined the Baptist Church, of which faith he subse-
quently became a preacher. For five years he w^as a
clerk in the Baptist Missionary Rooms, and two years
he was employed in the office of the Evangelist, at
New York. At this time he became convinced of his
duty to become a minister, and entered the New^ton
Theological Seminary, from which he graduated in 1859.
During his studies in Newton he w^on the confidence
and love of his teachers by faithfulness in study and
nobility of spirit. He was ordained and installed
in the pastorate of a church in Milford, New Hamp-
shire, soon after, where he remained until the capture
of Port Royal. Becoming deeply interested in the col-
ored people, he immediately resigned and went to
South Carolina, laboring on the island of St. Helena-
In 1868 he was sent by the Baptist Home Missionary
Society to New Orleans, to preach C'hrist to all who
would listen, without regard to complexion or race.
Here he was instrumental in organizing a Young Men's
Christian Association, which is still in existence, sus-
taining daily prayer meetings, and otherwise laboring
for the redemption of lost humanity. In that city he
remained, until by a dispensation of an all-wise Provi-
dence, he was brutally massacred, because of his sym-
pathy with the Freedmen, and whose only crime w^as that
he invoked the divine blessing upon a convention
of peaceable citizens. ,
It was not merely sorrow at the decease of this
servant of God, nor pity for the bereaved widow, which
brought together so many people and caused so deep
emotions. It was to express intense indignation at this
wicked spirit — so universal in the South which vents
itself at every opportunity in barbarity and murder
it was for this they were assembled, and to ally them-
selves thus publicly with the cause of justice and
humanity, to give evidence of their sympathy with the
work in which he was engaged, and tacitly to proffer
whatever support they may be able to give to the prin-
ciples in defence of which he laid down his life. God
grant that it be not in vain.
*'^e toill sroallou) up beatl) in uictorg, anb tl)e £or5
(Sob tuill mipc atoa^ tears from off ail faces : for tl)e €oxb
l)atl) spoken it.''