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.
CHAPTER III.
STUDYING NORTH.
In directing his footsteps to Pittsburg, Fortune favored the student in a degree wonderful for that time, while she chilled the energies of the man in later years. There he was compelled to labor faithfully, at whatever work his hands found to do, in order to continue his studies.
Fortunately for him, a way was opened from sources least expected at that time. Great efforts were being made by the colored people themselves, at Pittsburg, to advance their educational interests, together with other measures for the recognition of their political rights. A church was purchased from the white Methodists for a school-house,—an educational society having been previously organized,—and Rev. Louis Woodson, a colored gentleman, of fine talents, was placed at the head of it. Under the supervision of this gentleman, during the winter of 1831, his progress in the common branches were such as to warrant his promotion to the more advanced studies. It was commonly said by his friends at school, that his retentiveness of history—his favorite study—was so remarkable that he seemed to have recited from the palm of his hand.