FUGITIVE SLAVE ACT.
A remarkable effort of this still more remarkable man is remembered,
from which unmistakable evidences of the character of the individual,
and that of his future line of conduct, are drawn.
It was on the occasion of the passage of that crowning triumph of the
slave power, conceded by the obsequious North to them, remembered as
the atrocious Fugitive Slave Act.
While this bill was under consideration, as in other dishonorable
political enactments affecting the interests of the colored people,
there were many persons, who, either from a desire to have peace
between the two sections at any sacrifice of national honor, or from
a superabundance of faith in the decisions of our law-makers, were
advising the blacks to remain passive; endeavoring to impress the
belief upon them that the act could never pass, as it was too atrocious
and unjust in its provisions, and that the American people would not
tolerate the men who would dare vote to sanction so great an outrage on
any portion of the people as that contemplated. The colored people, who
never failed to enter their protest against these unjust enactments,
called for public meetings.
Martin Delany, painfully alive to the magnitude of the occasion, rose
in proportion to it, and, while he was not able to turn the course of
the event in his favor, entered a protest which gave sublimity to his
defeat. At the first appearance of the bill, with his usual foresight
he saw further humiliation in store for his race,--the trampling out of
the sacred rights of manhood and womanhood, the total annihilation of
domestic tranquillity, and the inevitable desecration of all that was
sacred to them, accompanying it in its stride. This was verified by the
Dred Scot decision, which followed in its wake but a few short years
after. He said that the South demanded it, and would get it, as she
had never as yet, in the history of the country, failed to secure by
legislation that which she demanded at the hands of the North. He held
that the scheme was nothing less than a virtual rendition to slavery
of every free black person in the country; or, in fact, a rendition of
the free states into slavery, with the difference that while the blacks
could be enslaved in the free states, they must be taken away to be
held. He was instrumental in calling public meetings, and endeavored
to urge, with all the strength of his fiery eloquence, the devising of
some means to avert the impending danger. Forcible and truthful as his
arguments were, many derided him, accusing him of being frightened;
this, too, from men of experience and wisdom, whose confidence in the
honor of the administration exceeded his own.
At these meetings white speakers often addressed them, some of whom
advised them against being misled by rash, inconsiderate persons, who
were alarmed before being hurt, being frightened by their own shadows.
But as this was a shadow of such magnitude, the steady advance of which
threatened to darken their political pathway, more than the shadow of
an excuse must be allowed for their fright.
The bill was passed, followed by an excitement throughout the North
only equalled since by that evinced at the firing on Fort Sumter. Never
in the history of civilization was humanity more outraged than in that
act; the Dred Scot decision was but a fitting sequel to it; one would
have been incomplete without the other. “For every drop of blood drawn
by the lash, the sword has avenged,” said Abraham Lincoln; and for
every attempt to ignore the rights of humanity there is a retributive
demand awaiting individuals and nations.
There were mass meetings held throughout the North. At the first
great meeting, held on the public square of Pittsburg, among the
speakers loudly called for was Martin Delany. His predictions being
too bitterly realized, he designedly evaded their cries, desiring some
of the leading white men present first to commit themselves. This
being Saturday evening, they adjourned to meet the following Monday at
Alleghany City, Pa. At this meeting the mayor presided, supported by
many distinguished citizens, among them the Hon. William Robinson, Jr.,
an ex-foreign commissioner, and the Rev. Charles Avery, the eminent
philanthropist. Among the speakers who addressed them on that memorable
occasion were the Hon. T. H. Howe, the recent member of Congress
from Alleghany, and Hon. Charles A. Naylor, member of Congress from
Pennsylvania. Here again he was called for, and this time he responded.
It was generally conceded that his was one of the most powerful
and impressive speeches of that memorable occasion. We extract the
following from it. Said he, “Honorable mayor, whatever ideas of
liberty I may have, have been received from reading the lives of your
revolutionary fathers. I have therein learned that a man has a right
to defend his castle with his life, even unto the taking of life.
Sir, my house is my castle; in that castle are none but my wife and
my children, as free as the angels of heaven, and whose liberty is
as sacred as the pillars of God. If any man approaches that house in
search of a slave,--I care not who he may be, whether constable or
sheriff, magistrate or even judge of the Supreme Court--nay, let it be
he who sanctioned this act to become a law, surrounded by his cabinet
as his body-guard, with the Declaration of Independence waving above
his head as his banner, and the constitution of his country upon his
breast as his shield,--if he crosses the threshold of my door, and I do
not lay him a lifeless corpse at my feet, I hope the grave may refuse
my body a resting-place, and righteous Heaven my spirit a home. O, no!
he cannot enter that house and we both live.”
Such is a portion of the speech, remembered for its singular pathos
and boldness, wrung from the lips of one whose soul was kindled with
the sense of the outrages heaped upon his helpless race by a people
maddened by success.