CHAPTER XX.
THE GOLD LEAF.
No Sabbath in war times, we are told, and there was no exception in this case. The following morning (Sabbath), in accordance with the appointment, Delany reported himself at the office of the adjutant general, who accompanied him to the war department. Here the secretary, making the necessary inquiries of the adjutant, received the parchment from him. History repeated itself—the Hebrew in the palaces, the Hun in high places. At that moment the great war minister of our revolution, affixing his official signature, made an epoch in the history of a hitherto unrecognized race, and a pledge in the name of the nation to them irrevocable through all time. It seemed remarkable that in two hemispheres this man should be selected from among so many others to represent marked events in the history of his race! Says Lamartine, “We should not despise any, for the finger of destiny marks in the soul, and not upon the brow.”
So long had Delany fought against error and injustice towards his race, that it seemed almost hopeless to witness, in his day, the faintest semblance of recognition of their right in this land, and for him to be the first to receive that appointment seemed indeed to promise an age “of better metal.”
While the interesting ceremony was being performed, a major general entered the apartment, followed soon after by Senator Ben Wade, of Ohio, now president of the Senate, before whom the new officer was addressed for the first time with a military title.
“Gentlemen,” said the secretary, “I am just now creating a black field officer for the United States service.” Then, addressing himself directly to the new officer, he said, “Major Delany, I take great pleasure in handing you this commission of Major in the United States army. You are the first of your race who has been thus honored by the government; therefore much depends and will be expected of you. But I feel assured it is safe in your hands.”
“Honorable Secretary,” replied the major, as the secretary concluded his remarks, “I can assure you, whatever be my failure to meet the expectations concerning me, on one thing you may depend,—that this parchment will never be dishonored in my hands.”
“Of this I am satisfied. God bless you! Good by.” With a hearty shake of the hand, the secretary concluded, when the first black major in the history of the republic left the department.
If the war had not ended so soon after the major received his commission, there exists no doubt but that his merits would have received further recognition. It is unlikely that the government would have given an unmeaning promotion, and thus debar him from rising to the higher ranks of the army through the same medium as other officers. On returning to the office of the adjutant general, the adjutant remarked, “Major Delany, you have now a great charge intrusted to you,—a great responsibility, certainly, and much will be expected of you, both by your friends and others. You have now an opportunity, if the war continues, of rising in your position to the highest field rank—that of a major general.”
His reply was, that he hoped to be able to perform his duty, so as to merit the approval of his government and his superior officers, and, as a matter of course, intimated courteously that further promotion would not be unacceptable to him.
The following commission is in the usual form; but, being the first on the records of our country credited to a colored American, we reproduce it here.