Soulcatcher: And other stories

The People Speak

A NEWS ITEM from the Philadelphia Liberator

(Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, January 16, 1817)

A Vote on Colonization

Yesterday a reported three thousand black people packed into Bethel Church to vote on a proposal by the newly created American Colonization Society that free blacks in the United States should be resettled in Africa. The tempestuous meeting, which lasted most of the day, and was peppered throughout by passionate speeches for and against the proposal, ended with a historic vote that will no doubt be decisive — if not fateful — for the future of all people of African descent in this nation.

Fiction often changes the facts for dramatic effect. Paul Cuffe did not attend the meeting described here, and he learned of the vote by letter. There were no women present, and the actual vote was by voice, not paper ballot. The author hopes readers of this tale can forgive the liberties taken with facts in order to conjure a moment in time with feeling.

It was, some observers remarked, a debate on two equally powerful yet antithetical dreams within the black American soul.

The meeting came but fifteen days after the founding of the American Colonization Society, a creation of Robert Finley that has been endorsed with enthusiasm by President James Madison and former president Jefferson. Its mission, according to its founder, is to redress the evils of exploitation visited upon Negroes in Africa, and to establish on that continent a homeland for American people of color, a place to which they can emigrate, live free from white persecution, and pursue their interests without interference. The idea has great popularity these days, among both blacks and whites, who question whether the Negro, once released from bondage, will ever be accepted in or assimilated by American society.

In attendance at Wednesday's gathering were some of the most prominent leaders and luminaries from Philadelphia's growing black community. On hand was the ubiquitous Rev. Absalom Jones; maritime entrepreneur Paul Cuffe and his Indian wife, Alice; businessman James Forten; and Rev. Richard Allen, who, as on many occasions previously, provided his church as the site for this great Negro debate and introduced Mr. Forten as the day's first speaker.

Taking the stage, Mr. Forten, fifty-one, explained how he was contacted by a representative of the American Colonization Society who sought his support in swaying Philadelphia's Negroes to the idea of leaving America. "You all know me and what I stand for," said Mr. Forten, his voice breaking with emotion. He reminded the gathering of his humble beginnings as a powder boy in the American Navy when he was fifteen, how at twenty he was foreman in a sail loft, and by age forty owned it and now employed more than forty men. "My life has been nurtured in the ground of this fledging nation," he said. "I have been an American patriot through and through, but I have also been one of this country's greatest critics as well."

He cited his "A Series of Letters by a Man of Color," composed four years ago, which opposed the legislature's attempt to force all blacks in the city to register, and his lifelong work as an abolitionist. Mr. Forten then reminded the audience of how central Negroes have been to every dimension of life in the colonies, and how Crispus Attucks was the first to die opposing British tyranny.

"But despite our contributions to this country," Mr. Forten said, "we have not been — and perhaps will never be — accepted by its white citizens. And so, although it makes my heart heavy to do so, I intend to vote — as I hope you will — for taking my chances in the land of our forebears."

The audience was greatly moved by Mr. Forten's address. The applause lasted for several minutes.

He was followed by Paul Cuffe, fifty-eight, a Quaker who for over a decade, and long before the formation of the American Colonization Society, has urged free blacks toward expatriation. As reported earlier in this newspaper (September 8, 1815), Mr. Cuffe, owner of the 268-ton Alpha, is a man whose wisdom is seasoned by his world travels. Among his many vessels are sloops, schooners, and two brigs. He has sailed to Sweden and, on his ship the Traveller, visited Sierra Leone in 1811. There, he set up the Friendly Society, an organization dedicated to helping American blacks migrate to Africa. In fact, three years later Mr. Cuffe transported thirty-eight colored men and women to Sierra Leone and paid for their $4,000 voyage himself. A philanthropist, he created a school for Negro children on his farm and acquired a teacher for them.

As he walked slowly to the stage, still weak from a recent illness, a cheer rose from the gathering. Mr. Cuffe, smiling gently, waited patiently at the podium for the audience to settle down.

"Thank you," he said. "We are all old friends here and have suffered much together over the years. We struggled together thirty-seven years ago to protest taxation of our people when we have no representation. I led that fight, you'll recall. And twenty years ago, my friend there, Absalom Jones, spearheaded our effort to repeal the Fugitive Slave Act. We have all shed our blood for freedom, and of our triumphs I think we should be proud. But as an old fighter, one who has seen many campaigns to achieve justice for the colored people of America, I sometimes wonder how much farther we can go. I won't lie to you. I never have, and I can't start now. My doctor tells me I'll be lucky if I see Thanksgiving this year. With so little time, I think I should tell you the truth, at least as I've been privileged to perceive it.

"Here, in America, we face an uphill struggle. Our victories can be taken away with a single stroke of the pen by men like former president Jefferson. He and others like him have always envisioned the United States as a white man's nation, irrespective of our deep and enduring contributions to its economy, its culture, and its precious Revolution. I've never avoided a good fight in my life. You know that. But now, after much reflection, I believe it is time to withdraw from white men. Our great energies, talents, and love would be better applied, I think, to the nurturing of a democracy on the continent of our origin. Visit Sierra Leone, if you dare. I have. And it gladdened my heart to see Negroes who possessed every freedom this republic withholds from us. I say, my friends, that it is doubtful the black man and the white can ever live in harmony. Can he ever relinquish his desire to be dominant? Can you ever forget the horrors of our history in this country at the hands of white men? No, methinks it is asking too much for both sides, theirs and ours, to live peacefully as one people. Does that sound defeatist? If so, you hear me wrong. In the impossibility of the Madisons and Jeffersons ever treating us like equals there lies the great opportunity for you and I, as freemen, to return to our mother country with skills and knowledge that will raise that continent, benighted by centuries of slavery and oppression, to its rightful place as a powerful black presence in the world. Leave America to the white man. A far greater and nobler civilization beckons, if we but have the courage to answer its call."

When Mr. Cuffe was done, the church was silent for a moment. Then, spontaneously, those in attendance responded with thunderous applause.

Other leaders of the colored community took the podium for the next few hours, all passionately arguing to their unlettered brethren the position of emigration. At various times the assembly became raucous, with members of the audience shouting their positions from the floor, so that Rev. Allen found it necessary to bang his gavel over and over, calling for order. "Please settle down," he said. "Everyone will have a chance to speak. Gentlemen, remember what we are deciding here. It has taken the American Colonial Society to bring this crisis to the surface. We are at, I daresay, a crossroads. Future generations will judge us by our sobriety. Our wisdom — or our lack of it! We are voting — be advised — not merely on the future position of the Philadelphia Negro vis-a-vis America, but on which direction all our people will take in the future. Now, if you'll look to the rear of the room, you'll see ushers are moving down the aisles, each carrying a basket filled with ballots. I ask you to take one. lake a prayerful moment to review the discussion you've heard, then vote knowing your decision carries as much weight for the direction of this nation as that of the white men who assembled at the Constitutional Convention."

Concluding his instructions, Rev. Allen went back to his seat to vote, Ten minutes later, the votes were collected. The ushers took them into the back of the church to tally "yeas" and "nays" for the Society's proposal. As they worked, Bethel's choir sang two beautiful hymns. Before they could begin a third, one of the ushers, a young man, brought a slip of paper to Rev. Allen, who again stepped up to the podium. Those gathered grew quiet. Rev. Allen cleared his throat.

"You, the people, have voted unanimously against the position of your leaders," he said. "You have rejected returning to Africa. Whatever our future is to be, you have decided that it will be here, on these shores. God help us all…"