Life and public services of Martin R. Delany. Frank A. Rollin
taking part in anti-slavery meetings and conventions, ably seconded by the eloquent Charles L. Remond, to whom, he says, the anti-slavery cause of New England is much indebted for the breaking down of the stupid prejudice, which once existed on the land and water transportations, against colored persons.
One of the means resorted to—so zealous were the colored people to sustain the rising North Star—was the holding of fairs in Philadelphia, supported by a number of the most influential colored ladies of that city. At the first of these, December, 1848, it was, that William and Ellen Craft, now in England, the first victims selected under the atrocious Fugitive Slave Law (enacted later), made their appearance, and under circumstances so peculiar as to become historic on both sides of the Atlantic. They were introduced by him to the visitors at the fair in an appropriate address, and in such a way that their mode of escape was carefully concealed, but which was afterwards communicated to the Liberator by an anti-slavery man. Through this their whereabouts became known to Dr. Collins, of Macon, Georgia, and as soon as the enactment was completed, a few years after, he immediately, through his agents sent north, placed all Boston under obligation to arrest them.
Hundreds of special or assistant marshals were appointed in the midst of a government which thundered her volleys of welcome to the Hungarian governor, a fugitive from Austrian tyranny! And now, in all our broad free America, there was no place of security from southern slavery for these.
For four long days these obsequious marshals, whom the slave power doubtless rewarded in after years with starvation and death in their loathsome prisons, prowled around the dwelling in which the brave Craft resided, till at length that lion-hearted reformer and ever-devoted friend of the negro, Wendell Phillips, persuaded the daring fugitive, all things being prepared, to take passage on a vessel, his wife being already on board; and thus they escaped to England, where they were received under the auspices of the Baroness Wentworth, and are now enjoying a fair share of prosperity and all the advantages of British citizenship.
During his tour in behalf of the North Star, in July, 1848, when America’s sympathy yearned towards the people of Europe, in the name of whose freedom the thrones were trembling, a mob demanded his life in a village of Northern Ohio.
They first demanded of him a speech, in a derisive manner, which he refused. In revenge they circulated a report that he was an abolitionist and amalgamationist. This had the desired effect, and soon a mob, consisting of nearly every male in the village, and neighboring farmers, attracted by a blazing fire which they had kindled of store boxes and tar, in the middle of the street, gathered, shouting, swearing, and demanding him of the proprietor of the hotel, who had closed his doors on the appearance of the rabble.
A barrel of tar was contributed by some person, and it was decided to saturate his clothes, set him on fire, and let him run! Interference in his behalf was forbidden, and threats were made against the hotel keeper, who refused to eject him. The movement to break the doors in being threatened and attempted, the landlord addressed them from the window to the effect that it was his own property, and that he would not turn any well-behaved person from his house into the street, and if his property was injured, as was threatened, he would have redress by law. As the yells and threats became more deafening, he saw no retreat, and determined to yield his life as dearly as possible. Against the entreaties and advice of the proprietor and family, he found his way into the kitchen: seizing there a butcher’s knife and a hatchet, he returned, and placed himself at the head of the stairs: having within his reach some chairs, he stood awaiting the issue with all the fire of his nature aroused.
A gentleman friend travelling with him, by blood and complexion a quadroon, was advised by Dr. Delany to leave him by making his exit through the back door, as he would be mistaken for a white. His friend refused to abandon him. The night was far spent; but, the clamor still continuing, the mob might have executed their fiendish purpose, had it not been for the timely arrival of one of their number, a veteran soldier, whom they called Bill. “Stop!” he exclaimed, as he came up to the spot in time to hear the final vote, “to break into the hotel, bring the nigger out, and burn him!” “Do you see this arm?” said he, pointing to the remaining stump of a lost arm. “I have fought in Mexico, and I am no coward; but I had rather face an army in the field than enter the room of that negro after the threats you have made in his hearing, knowing the fate that awaits him. Didn’t you hear how that black fellow talked? These are educated negroes, and have travelled, and know as much as white men; and any man who knows as much as they do won’t let any one force himself into their room in the night and leave it alive! You may take my word for that! Now, gentlemen, I have told you; you may do as you please, but I shan’t stay to see it.” During this time they stood patiently listening to Bill; and as he concluded, they shouted, “We’ll take Bill’s advice, and adjourn till morning.” They gradually dispersed, after leaving a committee to watch and report when the niggers would attempt to leave. At the dawn, however, the landlord had a buggy at the door for his guests, and the few young men on the spot confined their vengeance to abusive epithets and threats if they should ever attempt to enter the town again. The mob in New York, during the war, showed the evil against which colored people were long accustomed to contend.
One thing worthy of more than a passing notice occurred during this editorial existence, which we will relate here.
It happened that, while travelling in behalf of the paper, he stopped at Detroit, Michigan, and attended a trial in the Supreme Court, Justice John McLean presiding, before whom Dr. Comstock, a gentleman of respectability and wealth, and others of that state, were arraigned on charge of aiding and abetting the escape of a family of blacks from Kentucky, known as the Crosswaits. In the case it had been proven satisfactorily that Dr. Comstock had nothing to do with their escape. Having heard of the affair (being two or three miles distant), he came to the scene of confusion just in time to hear the threats and regrets of the defeated slave-hunter, Crossman. The doctor stood there enjoying the discomfiture, and expressed himself to a friend that he hoped “they would not be overtaken.” For this Judge McLean ruled him guilty as an accomplice in the escape, stating that it was “the duty of all good citizens to do all they could to prevent it; that whether housing or feeding, supplying means or conveyances, throwing himself or other obstructions in the way, or standing quietly by with his hands in his breeches pockets, smiling consent, it was equally aiding and abetting, hindering and obstructing, in the escape of the slaves, and therefore such person was reprehensible before the law as a particeps criminis, and must be held to answer.” This novel decision of the judge of the Supreme Court was so startling to him at that time—for, alas! decisions more wounding to the honor of the nation have since emanated from the Supreme Court—that he hastened to report to the North Star the proceedings of the trial, which he had taken down while sitting in the court-room. This publication, like a wronged and angry Nemesis, seemed to reach various points in time to be made available, especially by those attending the great Free Soil Convention at Buffalo. Everywhere was the infamous decision discussed with more or less warmth, according to the political creed of the debaters: then the reliability of the writer received some attention. The North Star may have been sufficient authority, had that correspondent who reported the McLean decision been Mr. Frederick Douglass, who had both “credit and renown.” While the initials of the undersigned could be known from the title page of the paper (as the full names of each appeared as editors and proprietors), “Who is he?” became the subject of inquiry among the throng of delegates, who could not be censured for not knowing but one black man of ability and character in the United States, and supposing it to be impossible that there should be more than one.
The Mass Convention assembled outside, supposed to be forty thousand, filling the public square, hotels, and many of the streets, about six thousand of whom, occupying the great Oberlin tent, which had been obtained for the purpose, and constituting the acting body of the Mass Convention, while four hundred and fifty of the credited delegates were detailed as the executive of the great body, and assembled in a church near by, before whom all business was brought and prepared before presenting it to the body for action.
The Hon. Charles Francis Adams, late minister to the court of St. James, was president of Mass Convention. The Hon. Salmon P. Chase, now chief justice of the United States, chairman or president of the executive body. Strange to say, in an