Up from Slavery: An Autobiography
week spend two dollars or more for a buggy on Sunday to ride up and
down Pennsylvania Avenue in, in order that they might try to convince
the world that they were worth thousands. I saw other young men who
received seventy-five or one hundred dollars per month from the
Government, who were in debt at the end of every month. I saw men who
but a few months previous were members of Congress, then without
employment and in poverty. Among a large class there seemed to be a
dependence upon the Government for every conceivable thing. The members
of this class had little ambition to create a position for themselves,
but wanted the Federal officials to create one for them. How many times
I wished then, and have often wished since, that by some power of magic
I might remove the great bulk of these people into the county districts
and plant them upon the soil, upon the solid and never deceptive
foundation of Mother Nature, where all nations and races that have ever
succeeded have gotten their start,—a start that at first may be slow
and toilsome, but one that nevertheless is real.
In Washington I saw girls whose mothers were earning their living by
laundrying. These girls were taught by their mothers, in rather a crude
way it is true, the industry of laundrying. Later, these girls entered
the public schools and remained there perhaps six or eight years. When
the public school course was finally finished, they wanted more costly
dresses, more costly hats and shoes. In a word, while their wants have
been increased, their ability to supply their wants had not been
increased in the same degree. On the other hand, their six or eight
years of book education had weaned them away from the occupation of
their mothers. The result of this was in too many cases that the girls
went to the bad. I often thought how much wiser it would have been to
give these girls the same amount of maternal training—and I favour any
kind of training, whether in the languages or mathematics, that gives
strength and culture to the mind—but at the same time to give them the
most thorough training in the latest and best methods of laundrying and
other kindred occupations.
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