Crusade Against Slavery: Edward Coles, Pioneer of Freedom

Epilogue

207 Epilogue T he cause of racial freedom in Illinois moved forward slowly and with hesitation. The convention struggle of 1824 ended talk of legalizing slavery in Illinois and set the state on an uneven road toward greater racial justice. Racial injustice remained a fact of life, however. Free black persons could be kidnapped with impunity well into the 1830s. Legislation restricting the arrival of free black people in the state was passed in 1829 and in 1848and again in 1853. More than fifteen years after Illinois’ political watershed of 1824, black people were finally relieved of the legal obligation to prove they were not slaves (the case of Bailey v. Cromwell in 1841, argued by Abraham Lincoln). “French slaves” were finally set loose from the ties perpetuating their bondage six years after that (Jarrott v. Jarrott, 1845). The Underground Railway carried large numbers of slaves through three Illinois branch lines to Canada, signifying both resistance to slavery and viable support for the sanctity of ownership of slave property. By 1848, the antislavery Liberty Party won majorities in eighteen northern counties (only eight years after its founding in the east). And the state constitution was revised in 1848—it forbade slavery once and for all. Edward Coles was not responsible in any direct sense for these changes. His contribution was in standing firmly against a tide toward slavery in Illinois. His perseverance in that stand and the victory that came of it formed a pivot point in Illinois history that is palpable. The stand he took made a difference. It is not too much to say that the path by which Illinois headed toward racial justice had the tenure and good faith of Edward Coles at its crossroad. Accolades to Edward Coles have been modest. In 1885, when the Phillips Decorative Company of Chicago produced eight murals for the walls of the north and south corridors of what is now the first floor EPILOgUE 208 of the capitol in Springfield, Illinois, Edward Coles was cast as a heroic subject. The moment of freedom when on the Ohio River Coles announced his intention to his slaves is captured in one of these murals as a signal moment in Illinois history. Artistic license was taken with some of the details, but there is no error in its sentiment: the State of Illinois recognizes and officially celebrates the symbolic and moral meaning of its second governor’s poignant and principled battle against slavery. In 1 953, the National Urban League, under the authority of Illinois Governor William G. Stratton, laid a wreath on the grave of Edward Coles.1 In 1 967, as the sesquicentennial of Illinois approached, the well-known choral director Norman Luboff composed an oratorio about Edward Coles and the freeing of his slaves.2 A singular biography of Coles—an affectionate and partisan trumpet to the heroic side of this story—was published in 1882. Occasional summary articles have appeared in regional history journals, pointing to fitful rediscovery of the story every decade or so. More frequent, Edward Coles has made cameo appearances in many books on the antebellum south to illustrate the high road not taken or to explore the paradoxes of Jefferson’s character. The name of Edward Coles has played among the footnotes of great and celebrated Americans. Yet, he has not surfaced as a significant historical worthy, and the reasons bear consideration. First, Edward Coles has no home. He turned his back on Virginia, renouncing it as a slaveholding blot on the republican covenant. He turned away from Illinois after scarcely ten years of tumultuous life on the frontier and lived the rest of his life, quietly, in Pennsylvania. He was tied to principle more than to place, so no place has called him son. A secondary reason why Coles’s legacy resides in the footnotes rather than the main text of history is emancipation is a sure road to obscurity. Coles’s dim legacy tracks with those of other great emancipators. Robert Carter III, whose manumission of more than 450 slaves has, until very recently, won him little notice in Virginia history. The emancipation stories of John Randolph and Robert Pleasants are similarly obscure in the telling of the history of Virginia. We take delight in grand scale and in history that is big and durable with sweep, majesty, and moment. The emancipators have not made that impression on us. Their good deeds were primarily private, occurring offstage. They attracted more derision [3.14...