EARLY EDUCATION.
In the recent struggle through which the nation has passed, like
convulsions, sometimes, of certain portions of the physical world, old
features and landmarks are swept away, and new features are apparent,
developing on the surface, the existence of which very little, if
anything, was heretofore known.
A class has been invoked into action, to whose sublime patience and
enduring heroism the genius of poetry will turn for inspiration, while
future historians, recognizing evidences of the true statesmanship
which they have exhibited through the dark night of slavery, will
place them amid the brightest constellations of our time. This class
exhibited the same anomaly in the midst of slavery, that the slaves in
a government whose doctrines taught liberty and equality to all men,
and under whose banner the exile and fugitive found refuge, presented
to the civilization of this century. They were an intermediate class
in all the slave states, standing between the whites and the bondmen,
known as the free colored; debarred from enjoying the privileges of
the one, but superior in condition to the other, more, however, by
sufferance than by actual law. While they were the stay of the one,
they were the object of distrust to the other, and at the same time
subject to the machinations and jealousies of the non-slaveholders,
whom they rival in mechanical skill and trade. Prior to the rebellion
these represented a fair proportion of wealth and culture, both
attributable to their own thrift and energy. Unlike the same class
at the North, they had but little, if any, foreign competition in
the various departments of labor or trade against which to contend.
Immigration not being encouraged at the South, as at the North, could
not affect their progress, thus leaving all avenues open to the free
colored, while they were excluded from the more liberal and learned
professions. But if their faculties for accumulation were preferable to
the same class North, there were influences always at work to deprive
them of the fruits of their labor, either openly or covertly. On the
one side were exorbitant taxes for various public charities, from
the benefits of which the indigent of their race were deprived, and
for public schools, to which their children were denied admittance.
Business men found it in many instances impolitic to refuse requests
for loans coming from influential white men, under whose protection
they exercised their meagre privileges, and the payment of which it was
equally impolitic to press, nor were they allowed to sue for debts.
Thus their position in the midst of a slave community was altogether
precarious, as they were looked upon as a dangerous element by the
slaveholders. Their lives and material prosperity standing in direct
contrast to the repeated assertions of the advocates and apologists of
slavery, that they would, if free, relapse into barbarism, or would
burden the states in which they were found, for support. So marked and
wide-spread had this class become in the Southern States, that it was a
subject of general comment, but a few years before the rebellion, the
almost simultaneous petitions to the various legislative bodies, to
drive them from their homes, and in some of the states these were only
baffled by the bribes resorted to by their victims. These continued
aggressions succeeded, however, in driving large numbers to settle
in the free states and the Canadas, notwithstanding the unmigratory
tendency of southern races. There they remained until their listening
ears caught the first note of the rebellion, as borne from Sumter’s
walls, and with all the holy tenderness which clusters around the
national colors in the hearts of these men, they went forward to swell
the Union ranks. For to them the cause was as sacred as that which
inspired the crusaders of old.
There were others whose far-seeing visions, peering into futurity,
beheld the balance of power held out to them, and remained awaiting the
march of events not far removed, and at this time are recognized as the
accepted leaders of the rising race.
Under this state of society was engendered a habitual watchfulness of
public measures, making them tenacious of their rights and immunities
in every community where they are found, and peculiarly sensitive
to the slightest indication of encroachments, which has resulted in
developing in them a foresight and sagacity not surpassed in others,
whose individual status is less closely allied with political measures.
From this class sprang the honored and scholarly Daniel E. Paine,
Bishop of the African Methodist Church,--that great religious body, the
power of which is destined to be felt in America, and the influence
of which to be circumscribed only by the ocean. The noble Vesey, of
South Carolina, who sealed his devotion to the cause of freedom with
his life, was of this class. Before the walls of Petersburg, these were
among the gallant soldiers who gave battle to the trained veterans of
Lee, and at the ramparts of Wagner they waded to victory in blood.
Amid these uncertain surroundings was the boyhood of Martin Delany
passed. In childhood the playmate of John Avis, at Charlestown, in
manhood, the associate of the immortal Brown of Ossawatomie, in
a measure which ultimately resulted in rendering the name of the
kind-hearted Virginian historic in connection with his illustrious
captive.
With all the schools closed against them in Virginia, it was not until
about 1818 that his brothers and sisters ever attempted to receive
instruction.
With the vast domain of Virginia at this date, teeming with
school-houses, attended by thousands of colored children, and
instructed by white northern teachers, as well as those of their own
race, the tuition of the Delany children forms a singular contrast.
The famous New York Primer and Spelling Book was brought to them about
that time by itinerant Yankee pedlers, trading in rags and old pewter,
and giving in exchange for these new tin ware, school-books, and
stationery. These pedlers always found it convenient and profitable,
likewise, to leave their peculiar looking box wagon, to whisper into
the ear of a black, “You’re as much right to learn to read as these
whites;” and looking at their watches, had a “snigger of time left yet
to stay a little and give a lesson or so.” These “didn’t charge, only
gim me what ye mine to.” It was under such covert tuition, and with
such instructors, in the humble home of Pati Delany, that the young
Martin, together with his brothers and sisters, were taught to read and
write.
This stealthy manner of learning, while they were unconscious of the
cause, had the tendency of making them more attentive and eager,
perhaps, than otherwise, for their tuition was not of long duration
before the elder boys were able to read intelligently, and instruct the
younger children, we are told. And after a time almost improbable had
elapsed, so well arranged were the plans for imparting instruction,
that the authorities, who are always so vigilant in inspecting or
prying into the movements of the free blacks, “that dangerous element”
of the South, were so completely baffled, that not only the smaller
children were reading and spelling, but the larger boys were actually
writing “passes” for the slaves of their neighborhood.
As their minds developed, all restraint was thrown aside, and the
lessons given and recited heretofore in whispers, were now being
recited to each other aloud. Leaving the little room in which they were
accustomed to assemble, with throbbing hearts and eyes beaming with
joyous anticipations to receive those early lessons, unconscious of the
hair-suspended sword of southern _justice_ above their innocent heads,
they dared to “_play school_,” like other children, under the shaded
arbor of their mother’s garden. This soon attracted the attention of
their neighbors. Surrounded as they were by whites, it was a hazardous
and “overt act.” Major Delany describes the “situation” thus: “In the
rear, adjoining, on the opposite street, was Downey’s; on the left,
adjoining, Offit’s; on the right, immediately across the street from
Hogan’s, was the Long O’nary, where Bun’s great school was kept,
the largest school in the town except Heckman’s Seminary.” Thus the
progress of Pati Delany’s children was soon made the gossip of the day,
and attracted thither continually curious inquirers, eager to see and
hear negro children spell and read.
It chanced one day, in the midst of their recitations, their mother
being absent, they were interrupted by a man inquiring the name of
their parents, then of each child, taking it down in the mean time in
his book. Being satisfied, he rode away. These children, unconscious
of the purport of the visit, joyfully related it to their mother on
her return. Great was their astonishment to see the expression of deep
dejection that overshadowed the features that but a few moments before
had shone with happiness as she greeted them. Her only response to
their information was a long-drawn sigh, for too well she knew that
visit foreboded trouble. In a few days her fears were realized. A man
called at the house, and delivered a summons to her, to the effect that
it was understood that she was having her children taught to read, in
direct violation of law, for which she should answer before a court
of justice. The devoted mother’s consternation can be well pictured,
when we recall the justice extended to the noble Prudence Crandell,
in Connecticut, for teaching negro children to read. It followed, in
her fears, that she resorted to the concealment of the books from her
children; but the sole cause of offence to the majesty of Virginia’s
laws, the knowledge, and the insatiable thirst for further acquirement,
could neither be hidden nor taken from them.
This violation of law, and the inevitable consequences, were soon
bruited around the country. Neither sympathy or advice was extended to
the courageous woman, whose only crime was wearing a dusky skin; but
instead, the jeers and scowls which the vilest culprit receives met her
on every side. Mingled with their imprecations could be remembered the
significant expressions, “A wholesome lesson!” “It will do that proud,
defiant woman good!” “She always made pretensions above a negro.” Suits
were constantly entered, and failed. She was persecuted by all, with
one noble exception--that of Randall Brown, a banker, who often advised
her to leave the place. Finally, in September, 1822, under the pretext
of moving to Martinsburg, she left Charlestown for Chambersburg, Pa.,
where residing for fifteen years, her children were enabled to continue
their studies, with “none to molest or make them afraid.” There, for
several years, they attended school, securing such advantages as the
country schools of those days afforded.
After some time had elapsed, Delany’s parents’ means being limited, he
was compelled to leave school. He then went to Cumberland County, about
two years after he had left school, to work; but, becoming dissatisfied
with his prospects, he returned to Chambersburg, to obtain the consent
of his parents to go to Pittsburg, where facilities for obtaining an
education were superior to those of his home. On the morning of the
29th of July, 1831, we date the first bold and determined move on his
part to fit himself for the herculean task which he had marked out for
himself. Alone, and on foot, the young hero set out for Pittsburg,
with little or no money, and consequently few friends. Crossing the
three grand ridges of the Alleghany, he soon reached Bedford. Here,
employment being offered to him, he remained for one month. Never
losing sight of his resolves, he now turned his face towards Pittsburg,
in which city the foundation of his fame afterwards rested.