Prior to the Civil War, education for the American of color, was for the most part surreptitiously obtained. There were, however, a few fearless men and women of the white race, who, endowed with a magnanimous spirit and indomitable will, rose above the sordid plane of self-advancement and comfort, brooked the tide of social ostracism and censure to a realm of true altruism in behalf of the circumstantially weak and defenseless race.

Many of these noted benefactors belonged to that sect known in American history as Friends. True to their noble heritage, they faced the facts of social crises with intrepidity and strong convictions. They acted with unerring judgment and penetrating vision upon those principles sacred to the life and happiness of all mankind. In the vanguard of this honorable group, of martyrs to the cause of justice, stands an American school teacher, born of Quaker parentage, at Hopkinton, Rhode Island, September 3, 1803—Prudence Crandall. The noble purpose and sympathetic nature of this great teacher are clearly demonstrated in this extract from a letter addressed to William Lloyd Garrison, January 18th, 1833:[1]

"Now I will tell you why I write you, and the object is this: I wish to know your opinion respecting changing white scholars for colored ones. I have been for some months past determined if possible during the remaining part of my life to benefit the people of color. I do not dare tell any one of my neighbors anything about the contemplated change in my school and I beg of you, sir, that you will not expose it to any one; for if it was known, I have no reason to expect but it would ruin my present school. Will you be so kind as to write by the next mail and give me your opinion on the subject.

"Yours, with greatest respect,

"Prudence Crandall."[2]

This letter shows clearly that Prudence Crandall foresaw that any undertaking of an educational nature in behalf of Negroes would meet with opposition, require personal sacrifices, and demand unfaltering courage and patience.

That she was willing to undergo these tests was proved when a young Negro girl applied for admission to the school which she was then conducting for white girls only. This ambitious pupil of color was Sarah Harris, seventeen years old, the daughter of a respectable man who owned a small farm near the village of Canterbury. Sarah had attended the same district school in which the majority of Prudence Crandall's students had received their elementary training and had proved herself a bright scholar and a pious young lady. So deeply impressed was the teacher with this girl's plea and her earnest desire to get a broader education to teach other girls of color, that Prudence Crandall admitted Sarah to her school.

The students themselves offered no opposition nor manifested any objection to her presence. Parents, however, began to complain and informed Prudence Crandall that her school would not be supported if she kept the Negro girl as a student. To this threat Prudence Crandall replied: "It might sink then for I should not turn her out." Soon the white girls began to leave the school, but the philanthropic teacher was determined to adhere to the principles of democratic education. She finally gave up the teaching of white girls entirely and brought a number of Negro children into her school, then situated in the most aristocratic part of the town of Canterbury. "If the Canterbury people," said Ellen D. Larned, "had quietly accepted the situation and left them in peace the difficulty would soon have ended. Even if the children had remained they would have given them little annoyance. Twenty Indian lads were received into Plainfield Academy a few years later, and few outside of the village even heard of them."[3]

This step, however, aroused the most intense feeling of the town people and met with strong and immediate opposition. A committee of four of the chief men of the village, Adams, Frost, Fenner and Harris, visited Prudence Crandall and attempted to show her that such an undertaking was decidedly objectionable and seriously detrimental to the welfare of the whites of the community. One Esquire Frost intimated that Prudence Crandall's project fostered social equality and intermarriage of whites and blacks. To this insidious insinuation, she bluntly replied: "Moses had a black wife." To emphasize their decided opposition to this project, the people called a public meeting and drew up and adopted resolutions of a hostile nature. One of the leading politicians of that day, Andrew T. Judson, was so incensed at Miss Crandall's action that he denounced her in the most severe and scathing terms.

The Rev. Mr. May and Mr. Buffum, who were present on behalf of Miss Crandall, made several attempts to speak in her defense but were rudely and abruptly prohibited. Denied the privilege of espousing her cause in this meeting, Mr. May, upon adjournment, rose from his seat and addressed the people as they were leaving the hall: "Men of Canterbury, I have a word for you! Hear me!" A few turned to listen, and he pleaded with force and feeling the cause of the noble little teacher of Canterbury. He told them that Prudence Crandall was willing to move her school from its present situation, which was next door to the residence of Mr. Judson, her bitterest enemy, to some more retired part of the city.

May's arguments, however, were of no avail and only drew forth tirades of invective and abuse; for Mr. Judson responded: "Mr. May, we are not merely opposed to the establishment of that school in Canterbury; we mean there shall not be such a school set up anywhere in our state. The colored people can never rise from their menial condition in our country; they ought not to be permitted to rise here. They are an inferior race of beings, and never can or ought to be recognized as the equals of the whites. Africa is the place for them. I am in favor of the colonization scheme. Let the niggers and their descendants be sent back to their fatherland and there improve themselves as much as they can. I am a colonizationist. You and your friend Garrison have undertaken what you cannot accomplish. The condition of the colored population of our country can never be essentially improved on this continent. You are fanatical about them. You are violating the constitution of our Republic, which settled forever the status of the black men in this land. They belong to Africa. Let them be sent back there or kept as they are here. The sooner you abolitionists abandon your project the better for our country, for the niggers and yourselves."[4]

In answer to this outburst of feeling, typical of ignorance and prejudice, though it came from the lips of a prospective judge of the Supreme Court, Mr. May replied: "Mr. Judson, there never will be fewer colored people in this country than there are now. Of the vast majority of them, this is their native land as much as it is ours. It will be unjust, inhuman in us to drive them out, or to make them willing to go by our cruel treatment of them ... and the only question is whether we will recognize the rights which God gave them as men and encourage and assist them to become all he has made them capable of being, or whether we will continue wickedly to deny them the privileges we enjoy, condemn them to degradation, enslave and imbrute them; and so bring upon ourselves the condemnation of the Almighty, Impartial Father of all men and the terrible visitation of the God of the oppressed. I trust, sir, you well e're long come to see that we must accord to these men, their rights or incur justly the loss of our own. Education is one of the primal fundamental rights of all the children of men. Connecticut is the last place where this right should be denied."

These eloquent remarks truly portrayed the difference in the character of the two men. Encouraged by such noble characters as May and Garrison, Prudence Crandall was determined not to be deterred in her purpose by men like Judson. Her lofty ideals of service to humanity and to the humbler lot especially were evidenced in this extract from Garrison's letter to Isaac Knapp, April 11, 1833:

"She is a wonderful woman, as undaunted as if she had the whole world on her side. She has opened her school and is resolved to persevere. I wish brother Johnson to state this fact particularly in the next Liberator and urge all those who intend to send their children thither, to do so without delay."[5]

Despite all vicissitudes, Miss Crandall opened her school for girls of color early in April, with an enrollment of fifteen or twenty students. These for the most part came from Philadelphia, New York, Providence, and Boston.

The townspeople, greatly incensed, resorted to every foul means possible to destroy the school. At first, they searched for some obsolete vagrancy law for the purpose of intimidating those who came from other cities to attend school. One Negro girl, Anna Eliza Hammond, seventeen years of age, from Providence, was arrested, but Samuel May and other residents of Brooklyn gave bonds for $10,000 and thus defeated this plan. Frustrated in their first efforts, the townspeople held an indignation meeting at which they expressed their sentiment in the following resolutions:

"Whereas, it hath been publicly announced that a school is to be opened in this town, on the first Monday of April next, using the language of the advertisement, 'for young ladies and little misses of color,' or in other words for the people of color, the obvious tendency of which would be to collect within the town of Canterbury large numbers of persons from other States whose characters and habits might be various and unknown to us, thereby rendering insecure the persons, property, and reputations of our citizens. Under such circumstances our silence might be construed into an approbation of the project: Thereupon, Resolved That the locality of a school for the people of color at any place within the limits of this town, for the admission of persons of foreign jurisdiction, meets with our unqualified disapprobation, and it is to be understood, that the inhabitants of Canterbury protest against it in the most earnest manner.

"Resolved, That a committee be now appointed to be composed of the Civil Authority and Selectmen, who shall make known to the persons contemplating the establishment of said school, the sentiments and objections entertained by this meeting in reference to said school—pointing out to her the injurious effects and incalculable evils resulting from such an establishment within this town, and persuade her to abandon the project."[6]

The people then influenced the Legislature to enact a disgraceful but well-named "Black Law,"[7] amid the ringing of church bells and great rejoicing. This act outlawed Miss Crandall's school. The people closed all shops and meeting houses to the teacher and her pupils. Stage drivers refused them transportation in the common carriers of the town. Physicians would not attend them. Miss Crandall's own family and friends were forbidden under penalty of heavy fines to visit her. The well near her house was filled with manure and water was denied her from other sources. The house itself was smeared with filth, assailed with rotten eggs, stormed with stones, and finally set afire.

Not only was Prudence Crandall herself assailed with threats of coming vengeance and ejection, but her father in the south part of the town was insulted and threatened. "When lawyers, courts and jurors are leagued against you," said one to him, "it will be easy to raise a mob and tear down your house." "Mr. Crandall, if you go to your daughter," they said, "you are to be fined $100 for the first offense, $200 for the second and double it every time; Mrs. Crandall, if you go there, you will be fined and your daughter Almira will be fined, and Mr. May and those gentlemen from Providence (Messrs. George and Henry Benson), if they come there, will be fined at the same rate. And your daughter, the one that established the school for colored females, will be taken up the same way as for stealing a horse or for burglary. Her property will not be taken but she will be put in jail, not having the liberty of the yard. There is no mercy to be shown about it!"[8]

Miss Crandall was arrested and cast into prison, where she spent the night in a cell previously occupied by a murderer. She was twice tried. The first trial was held before the county court on August 22, 1833. The attorneys for the prosecution were Jonathan A. Welch, Andrew T. Judson and Ichabod Bulkley, while those for the defense were Calvin Goddard, W. W. Ellsworth and Henry Strong. The latter were secured by Samuel May and paid by Arthur Tappan.

The counsel for the defense argued that the "Black Law" conflicted with that article of the Federal Constitution which granted to citizens of each State all the privileges and immunities of citizens of the several States. The counsel for the prosecution argued that people of color were not and could not ever be citizens of any State. The judge, Mr. Eaton, gave the decision that the law was constitutional and binding upon the people of that State. The jurors, however, could not agree and so the case went over to the October term. It was then tried before the Superior Court of Windham County and its constitutionality again pronounced by Judge Daggett, who expressed himself as follows: "It would be a perversion of terms and the well-known rule of construction to say that slaves, free blacks, or Indians were citizens within the meaning of that term as used in the constitution." The jurors thus influenced gave their verdict against the defendant. Prudence Crandall's counsel then appealed to the Court of Errors, where the decision was reversed, July 22, 1834, upon the ground of "insufficiency of the information," which omitted to allege that the school was opened without necessary license.[9]

While the decision of the Court of Errors was pending, Prudence Crandall and her pupils were the victims of other fiendish acts of the townspeople. Having failed in their attempt to burn down her school, a number of them, with heavy clubs and iron bars, crept stealthily upon her house at midnight on the 9th of September, and simultaneously smashed in the windows with such force and suddenness that all the occupants were terror stricken. Even Prudence Crandall, for the first time, trembled with fear. Realizing that she and her pupils would ever be the object of insult and injury, she decided, upon the advice of Mr. May and other friends, to give up the school and send her girls back to their homes. Samuel May said that when he stood before Prudence Crandall and her pupils and advised them to leave, the words blistered his lips and his bosom glowed with indignation. "I felt ashamed of Connecticut," said he, "ashamed of my state, ashamed of my country, ashamed of my color."

The burden of these terrible ordeals was somewhat alleviated by the fidelity of her friends, the love and faith of her pupils and the devotion of her sister, father and husband. Having recently married the Rev. Calvin Philleo, a Baptist clergyman of Ithaca, New York, Prudence Crandall upon solicitation left Windham County never to return again. Tis true she had but little opportunity to teach the young women of color, nevertheless through sacrifice and service she taught the people of Connecticut a lesson of philanthropy and sacrifice.

G. Smith Wormley.

[1] Garrison's Garrison, I, Chap. X, p. 315; B. C. Steiner's History of Slavery in Connecticut (Johns Hopkins University Studies, XI, 415-422).