CHAPTER I.
GENEALOGY.
It has always been admitted that the early slaves of America were the vanquished of the wars waged among rival tribes of Africa. Among these were kings, chiefs, and their families, accustomed to state and circumstance, consigned to slavery in accordance with the laws of their warfare. From these early slaves the colored people of the United States are descended; and some of these captive kings and princes, it naturally follows, were the progenitors of some of the colored people of this continent. Yet, in consequence of the condition assigned them by an unholy prejudice, the mere mention of a claim to a family lineage, by one of that race, is treated with derision. Despite the opposition, however, there are Americans who not only claim a regal African ancestry, but cling to it with a pride worthy of a citizen of Rome in her palmiest days. Regardless of the gloom of barbarism which encircled their ancestry, knowing that the race which now stands at the zenith of its power suffered like disadvantages, the colored people cherish this proud descent with all the strong feeling so characteristic of them. Prominent among them in this pride of race stands the subject of this work.
At a recent session of Congress an interrogatory was raised by a member of that honorable body, while the suffrage question was being agitated: “What negro, either ancient or modern, has risen up and shown his claims to a family lineage, or a kingdom, as have done other men through all times? Or where is the negro, who, by the force of his intellect, and might of his will and power, has attempted to bring together the scattered petty chiefdoms south of the Sahara into one grand consolidated kingdom? Show me one who has attempted any of these, and with all of my prejudices, to such will I accord honor.” This will temper the criticism to which we render ourselves liable under a state of society where every man is supposed to stand upon the strength of his own merit, or fall for want of it, and where family titles are ignored, by beginning the biography of a colored man with his ancestry, instead of treating directly with himself. Since this reference to ancestry is not without precedent, as the histories of distinguished Americans show, there can be no violation of established rules for us to avail ourselves of the privilege, not in imitation of others, but rather with a view of presenting a faithful portrait of one representative of the race, known to two continents, but remarkable in the history of our times as the first black major in the United States service.
Martin Robison Delany, the son of Samuel and Pati Delany, was born at Charlestown, Virginia, May 6, 1812. He was named for his godfather, a colored Baptist clergyman, who, it appeared, gave nothing beyond his name to his godson.
With the name Delany, a peculiarity illustrative of the man himself is manifested. Regarding it as not legally belonging to his family by consanguinity, and suspicious of its having been borrowed from the whites, as was the custom of those days, he expresses himself always as though it was distasteful to him, recalling associations of the servitude of his family. With these associations clinging to it, his pride revolts at retaining that which he believes originated with the oppressors of his ancestors; and though he has made it honorable in other lands besides our own, encircled it with the glory of a steadfast adherence to freedom’s cause in the nation’s darkest hours, and uncompromising fidelity to his race, thus constituting him one of the brightest beacons for the rising generation, he eagerly awaits the opportunity for its erasure.
His pride of birth is traceable to his maternal as well as to his paternal grandfather, native Africans—on the father’s side, pure Golah; on the mother’s, Mandingo.
His father’s father was a chieftain, captured with his family in war, sold to the slavers, and brought to America. He fled at one time from Virginia, where he was enslaved, taking with him his wife and two sons, born to him on this continent, and, after various wanderings, reached Little York—as Toronto, Canada, was then called—unmolested. But even there he was pursued, and “by some fiction of law, international policy, old musty treaty, cozenly understood,” says Major Delany, he was brought back to the United States.
The fallen old chief afterwards is said to have lost his life in an encounter with some slaveholder, who attempted to chastise him into submission.
On his mother’s side the claim receives additional strength. The story runs that her father was an African prince, from the Niger valley regions of Central Africa; was captured when young, during hostilities between the Mandingoes, Fellahtas, and Houssa, sold, and brought to America at the same time with his betrothed Graci.