Chapter VI.

Black Race And Red Race

During the year that I spent in Washington, and for some little time

before this, there had been considerable agitation in the state of West

Virginia over the question of moving the capital of the state from

Wheeling to some other central point. As a result of this, the

Legislature designated three cities to be voted upon by the citizens of

the state as the permanent seat of government. Among these cities was

Charleston, only five miles from Malden, my home. At the close of my

school year in Washington I was very pleasantly surprised to receive,

from a committee of three white people in Charleston, an invitation to

canvass the state in the interests of that city. This invitation I

accepted, and spent nearly three months in speaking in various parts of

the state. Charleston was successful in winning the prize, and is now

the permanent seat of government.

The reputation that I made as a speaker during this campaign induced a

number of persons to make an earnest effort to get me to enter

political life, but I refused, still believing that I could find other

service which would prove of more permanent value to my race. Even then

I had a strong feeling that what our people most needed was to get a

foundation in education, industry, and property, and for this I felt

that they could better afford to strive than for political preferment.

As for my individual self, it appeared to me to be reasonably certain

that I could succeed in political life, but I had a feeling that it

would be a rather selfish kind of success—individual success at the

cost of failing to do my duty in assisting in laying a foundation for

the masses.

At this period in the progress of our race a very large proportion of

the young men who went to school or to college did so with the

expressed determination to prepare themselves to be great lawyers, or

Congressmen, and many of the women planned to become music teachers;

but I had a reasonably fixed idea, even at that early period in my

life, that there was a need for something to be done to prepare the way

for successful lawyers, Congressmen, and music teachers.

I felt that the conditions were a good deal like those of an old

coloured man, during the days of slavery, who wanted to learn how to

play on the guitar. In his desire to take guitar lessons he applied to

one of his young masters to teach him, but the young man, not having

much faith in the ability of the slave to master the guitar at his age,

sought to discourage him by telling him: “Uncle Jake, I will give you

guitar lessons; but, Jake, I will have to charge you three dollars for

the first lesson, two dollars for the second lesson, and one dollar for

the third lesson. But I will charge you only twenty-five cents for the

last lesson.”

Uncle Jake answered: “All right, boss, I hires you on dem terms. But,

boss! I wants yer to be sure an’ give me dat las’ lesson first.”

Soon after my work in connection with the removal of the capital was

finished, I received an invitation which gave me great joy and which at

the same time was a very pleasant surprise. This was a letter from

General Armstrong, inviting me to return to Hampton at the next

Commencement to deliver what was called the “post-graduate address.”

This was an honour which I had not dreamed of receiving. With much care

I prepared the best address that I was capable of. I chose for my

subject “The Force That Wins.”

As I returned to Hampton for the purpose of delivering this address, I

went over much of the same ground—now, however, covered entirely by

railroad—that I had traversed nearly six years before, when I first

sought entrance into Hampton Institute as a student. Now I was able to

ride the whole distance in the train. I was constantly contrasting this

with my first journey to Hampton. I think I may say, without seeming

egotism, that it is seldom that five years have wrought such a change

in the life and aspirations of an individual.

At Hampton I received a warm welcome from teachers and students. I

found that during my absence from Hampton the institute each year had

been getting closer to the real needs and conditions of our people;

that the industrial teaching, as well as that of the academic

department, had greatly improved. The plan of the school was not

modelled after that of any other institution then in existence, but

every improvement was made under the magnificent leadership of General

Armstrong solely with the view of meeting and helping the needs of our

people as they presented themselves at the time. Too often, it seems to

me, in missionary and educational work among underdeveloped races,

people yield to the temptation of doing that which was done a hundred

years before, or is being done in other communities a thousand miles

away. The temptation often is to run each individual through a certain

educational mould, regardless of the condition of the subject or the

end to be accomplished. This was not so at Hampton Institute.

The address which I delivered on Commencement Day seems to have pleased

every one, and many kind and encouraging words were spoken to me

regarding it. Soon after my return to my home in West Virginia, where I

had planned to continue teaching, I was again surprised to receive a

letter from General Armstrong, asking me to return to Hampton partly as

a teacher and partly to pursue some supplementary studies. This was in

the summer of 1879. Soon after I began my first teaching in West

Virginia I had picked out four of the brightest and most promising of

my pupils, in addition to my two brothers, to whom I have already

referred, and had given them special attention, with the view of having

them go to Hampton. They had gone there, and in each case the teachers

had found them so well prepared that they entered advanced classes.

This fact, it seems, led to my being called back to Hampton as a

teacher. One of the young men that I sent to Hampton in this way is now

Dr. Samuel E. Courtney, a successful physician in Boston, and a member

of the School Board of that city.

About this time the experiment was being tried for the first time, by

General Armstrong, of educating Indians at Hampton. Few people then had

any confidence in the ability of the Indians to receive education and

to profit by it. General Armstrong was anxious to try the experiment

systematically on a large scale. He secured from the reservations in

the Western states over one hundred wild and for the most part

perfectly ignorant Indians, the greater proportion of whom were young

men. The special work which the General desired me to do was to be a

sort of “house father” to the Indian young men—that is, I was to live

in the building with them and have the charge of their discipline,

clothing, rooms, and so on. This was a very tempting offer, but I had

become so much absorbed in my work in West Virginia that I dreaded to

give it up. However, I tore myself away from it. I did not know how to

refuse to perform any service that General Armstrong desired of me.

On going to Hampton, I took up my residence in a building with about

seventy-five Indian youths. I was the only person in the building who

was not a member of their race. At first I had a good deal of doubt

about my ability to succeed. I knew that the average Indian felt

himself above the white man, and, of course, he felt himself far above

the Negro, largely on account of the fact of the Negro having submitted

to slavery—a thing which the Indian would never do. The Indians, in the

Indian Territory, owned a large number of slaves during the days of

slavery. Aside from this, there was a general feeling that the attempt

to educate and civilize the red men at Hampton would be a failure. All

this made me proceed very cautiously, for I felt keenly the great

responsibility. But I was determined to succeed. It was not long before

I had the complete confidence of the Indians, and not only this, but I

think I am safe in saying that I had their love and respect. I found

that they were about like any other human beings; that they responded

to kind treatment and resented ill-treatment. They were continually

planning to do something that would add to my happiness and comfort.

The things that they disliked most, I think, were to have their long

hair cut, to give up wearing their blankets, and to cease smoking; but

no white American ever thinks that any other race is wholly civilized

until he wears the white man’s clothes, eats the white man’s food,

speaks the white man’s language, and professes the white man’s

religion.

When the difficulty of learning the English language was subtracted, I

found that in the matter of learning trades and in mastering academic

studies there was little difference between the coloured and Indian

students. It was a constant delight to me to note the interest which

the coloured students took in trying to help the Indians in every way

possible. There were a few of the coloured students who felt that the

Indians ought not to be admitted to Hampton, but these were in the

minority. Whenever they were asked to do so, the Negro students gladly

took the Indians as room-mates, in order that they might teach them to

speak English and to acquire civilized habits.

I have often wondered if there was a white institution in this country

whose students would have welcomed the incoming of more than a hundred

companions of another race in the cordial way that these black students

at Hampton welcomed the red ones. How often I have wanted to say to

white students that they lift themselves up in proportion as they help

to lift others, and the more unfortunate the race, and the lower in the

scale of civilization, the more does one raise one’s self by giving the

assistance.

This reminds me of a conversation which I once had with the Hon.

Frederick Douglass. At one time Mr. Douglass was travelling in the

state of Pennsylvania, and was forced, on account of his colour, to

ride in the baggage-car, in spite of the fact that he had paid the same

price for his passage that the other passengers had paid. When some of

the white passengers went into the baggage-car to console Mr. Douglass,

and one of them said to him: “I am sorry, Mr. Douglass, that you have

been degraded in this manner,” Mr. Douglass straightened himself up on

the box upon which he was sitting, and replied: “They cannot degrade

Frederick Douglass. The soul that is within me no man can degrade. I am

not the one that is being degraded on account of this treatment, but

those who are inflicting it upon me.”

In one part of the country, where the law demands the separation of the

races on the railroad trains, I saw at one time a rather amusing

instance which showed how difficult it sometimes is to know where the

black begins and the white ends.

There was a man who was well known in his community as a Negro, but who

was so white that even an expert would have hard work to classify him

as a black man. This man was riding in the part of the train set aside

for the coloured passengers. When the train conductor reached him, he

showed at once that he was perplexed. If the man was a Negro, the

conductor did not want to send him to the white people’s coach; at the

same time, if he was a white man, the conductor did not want to insult

him by asking him if he was a Negro. The official looked him over

carefully, examining his hair, eyes, nose, and hands, but still seemed

puzzled. Finally, to solve the difficulty, he stooped over and peeped

at the man’s feet. When I saw the conductor examining the feet of the

man in question, I said to myself, “That will settle it;” and so it

did, for the trainman promptly decided that the passenger was a Negro,

and let him remain where he was. I congratulated myself that my race

was fortunate in not losing one of its members.

My experience has been that the time to test a true gentleman is to

observe him when he is in contact with individuals of a race that is

less fortunate than his own. This is illustrated in no better way than

by observing the conduct of the old-school type of Southern gentleman

when he is in contact with his former slaves or their descendants.

An example of what I mean is shown in a story told of George

Washington, who, meeting a coloured man in the road once, who politely

lifted his hat, lifted his own in return. Some of his white friends who

saw the incident criticised Washington for his action. In reply to

their criticism George Washington said: “Do you suppose that I am going

to permit a poor, ignorant, coloured man to be more polite than I am?”

While I was in charge of the Indian boys at Hampton, I had one or two

experiences which illustrate the curious workings of caste in America.

One of the Indian boys was taken ill, and it became my duty to take him

to Washington, deliver him over to the Secretary of the Interior, and

get a receipt for him, in order that he might be returned to his

Western reservation. At that time I was rather ignorant of the ways of

the world. During my journey to Washington, on a steamboat, when the

bell rang for dinner, I was careful to wait and not enter the dining

room until after the greater part of the passengers had finished their

meal. Then, with my charge, I went to the dining saloon. The man in

charge politely informed me that the Indian could be served, but that I

could not. I never could understand how he knew just where to draw the

colour line, since the Indian and I were of about the same complexion.

The steward, however, seemed to be an expert in this manner. I had been

directed by the authorities at Hampton to stop at a certain hotel in

Washington with my charge, but when I went to this hotel the clerk

stated that he would be glad to receive the Indian into the house, but

said that he could not accommodate me.

An illustration of something of this same feeling came under my

observation afterward. I happened to find myself in a town in which so

much excitement and indignation were being expressed that it seemed

likely for a time that there would be a lynching. The occasion of the

trouble was that a dark-skinned man had stopped at the local hotel.

Investigation, however, developed the fact that this individual was a

citizen of Morocco, and that while travelling in this country he spoke

the English language. As soon as it was learned that he was not an

American Negro, all the signs of indignation disappeared. The man who

was the innocent cause of the excitement, though, found it prudent

after that not to speak English.

At the end of my first year with the Indians there came another opening

for me at Hampton, which, as I look back over my life now, seems to

have come providentially, to help to prepare me for my work at Tuskegee

later. General Armstrong had found out that there was quite a number of

young coloured men and women who were intensely in earnest in wishing

to get an education, but who were prevented from entering Hampton

Institute because they were too poor to be able to pay any portion of

the cost of their board, or even to supply themselves with books. He

conceived the idea of starting a night-school in connection with the

Institute, into which a limited number of the most promising of these

young men and women would be received, on condition that they were to

work for ten hours during the day, and attend school for two hours at

night. They were to be paid something above the cost of their board for

their work. The greater part of their earnings was to be reserved in

the school’s treasury as a fund to be drawn on to pay their board when

they had become students in the day-school, after they had spent one or

two years in the night-school. In this way they would obtain a start in

their books and a knowledge of some trade or industry, in addition to

the other far-reaching benefits of the institution.

General Armstrong asked me to take charge of the night-school, and I

did so. At the beginning of this school there were about twelve strong,

earnest men and women who entered the class. During the day the greater

part of the young men worked in the school’s sawmill, and the young

women worked in the laundry. The work was not easy in either place, but

in all my teaching I never taught pupils who gave me much genuine

satisfaction as these did. They were good students, and mastered their

work thoroughly. They were so much in earnest that only the ringing of

the retiring-bell would make them stop studying, and often they would

urge me to continue the lessons after the usual hour for going to bed

had come.

These students showed so much earnestness, both in their hard work

during the day, as well as in their application to their studies at

night, that I gave them the name of “The Plucky Class”—a name which

soon grew popular and spread throughout the institution. After a

student had been in the night-school long enough to prove what was in

him, I gave him a printed certificate which read something like this:—

“This is to certify that James Smith is a member of The Plucky Class of

the Hampton Institute, and is in good and regular standing.”

The students prized these certificates highly, and they added greatly

to the popularity of the night-school. Within a few weeks this

department had grown to such an extent that there were about

twenty-five students in attendance. I have followed the course of many

of these twenty-five men and women ever since then, and they are now

holding important and useful positions in nearly every part of the

South. The night-school at Hampton, which started with only twelve

students, now numbers between three and four hundred, and is one of the

permanent and most important features of the institution.