Up from Slavery: An Autobiography
was to warn the people against sending their children to Tuskegee. This
missionary had a son in the school, and I noticed that, whatever the
“missionary” might have said or done with regard to others, he was
careful not to take his son away from the institution. Many of the
coloured papers, especially those that were the organs of religious
bodies, joined in the general chorus of condemnation or demands for
retraction.
During the whole time of the excitement, and through all the criticism,
I did not utter a word of explanation or retraction. I knew that I was
right, and that time and the sober second thought of the people would
vindicate me. It was not long before the bishops and other church
leaders began to make careful investigation of the conditions of the
ministry, and they found out that I was right. In fact, the oldest and
most influential bishop in one branch of the Methodist Church said that
my words were far too mild. Very soon public sentiment began making
itself felt, in demanding a purifying of the ministry. While this is
not yet complete by any means, I think I may say, without egotism, and
I have been told by many of our most influential ministers, that my
words had much to do with starting a demand for the placing of a higher
type of men in the pulpit. I have had the satisfaction of having many
who once condemned me thank me heartily for my frank words.
The change of the attitude of the Negro ministry, so far as regards
myself, is so complete that at the present time I have no warmer
friends among any class than I have among the clergymen. The
improvement in the character and life of the Negro ministers is one of
the most gratifying evidences of the progress of the race. My
experience with them, as well as other events in my life, convince me
that the thing to do, when one feels sure that he has said or done the
right thing, and is condemned, is to stand still and keep quiet. If he
is right, time will show it.
In the midst of the discussion which was going on concerning my Atlanta
speech, I received the letter which I give below, from Dr. Gilman, the
President of Johns Hopkins University, who had been made chairman of
the judges of award in connection with the Atlanta Exposition:—
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore,
President’s Office, September 30, 1895.
Dear Mr. Washington: Would it be agreeable to you to be one of the
Judges of Award in the Department of Education at Atlanta? If so, I
shall be glad to place your name upon the list. A line by telegraph
will be welcomed.
Yours very truly,
D.C. Gilman
I think I was even more surprised to receive this invitation than I had
been to receive the invitation to speak at the opening of the
Exposition. It was to be a part of my duty, as one of the jurors, to
pass not only upon the exhibits of the coloured schools, but also upon
those of the white schools. I accepted the position, and spent a month
in Atlanta in performance of the duties which it entailed. The board of
jurors was a large one, containing in all of sixty members. It was
about equally divided between Southern white people and Northern white
people. Among them were college presidents, leading scientists and men
of letters, and specialists in many subjects. When the group of jurors
to which I was assigned met for organization, Mr. Thomas Nelson Page,
who was one of the number, moved that I be made secretary of that
division, and the motion was unanimously adopted. Nearly half of our
division were Southern people. In performing my duties in the
inspection of the exhibits of white schools I was in every case treated
with respect, and at the close of our labours I parted from my
associates with regret.
I am often asked to express myself more freely than I do upon the
political condition and the political future of my race. These
recollections of my experience in Atlanta give me the opportunity to do
so briefly. My own belief is, although I have never before said so in
so many words, that the time will come when the Negro in the South will
be accorded all the political rights which his ability, character, and
material possessions entitle him to. I think, though, that the
opportunity to freely exercise such political rights will not come in
any large degree through outside or artificial forcing, but will be
accorded to the Negro by the Southern white people themselves, and that
they will protect him in the exercise of those rights. Just as soon as
the South gets over the old feeling that it is being forced by
“foreigners,” or “aliens,” to do something which it does not want to
do, I believe that the change in the direction that I have indicated is
going to begin. In fact, there are indications that it is already
beginning in a slight degree.
Let me illustrate my meaning. Suppose that some months before the
opening of the Atlanta Exposition there had been a general demand from
the press and public platform outside the South that a Negro be given a
place on the opening programme, and that a Negro be placed upon the
board of jurors of award. Would any such recognition of the race have
taken place? I do not think so. The Atlanta officials went as far as
they did because they felt it to be a pleasure, as well as a duty, to
reward what they considered merit in the Negro race. Say what we will,
there is something in human nature which we cannot blot out, which
makes one man, in the end, recognize and reward merit in another,
regardless of colour or race.
I believe it is the duty of the Negro—as the greater part of the race
is already doing—to deport himself modestly in regard to political
claims, depending upon the slow but sure influences that proceed from
the possession of property, intelligence, and high character for the
full recognition of his political rights. I think that the according of
the full exercise of political rights is going to be a matter of
natural, slow growth, not an over-night, gourd-vine affair. I do not
believe that the Negro should cease voting, for a man cannot learn the
exercise of self-government by ceasing to vote, any more than a boy can
learn to swim by keeping out of the water, but I do believe that in his
voting he should more and more be influenced by those of intelligence
and character who are his next-door neighbours.
I know coloured men who, through the encouragement, help, and advice of
Southern white people, have accumulated thousands of dollars’ worth of
property, but who, at the same time, would never think of going to
those same persons for advice concerning the casting of their ballots.
This, it seems to me, is unwise and unreasonable, and should cease. In
saying this I do not mean that the Negro should truckle, or not vote
from principle, for the instant he ceases to vote from principle he
loses the confidence and respect of the Southern white man even.
I do not believe that any state should make a law that permits an
ignorant and poverty-stricken white man to vote, and prevents a black
man in the same condition from voting. Such a law is not only unjust,
but it will react, as all unjust laws do, in time; for the effect of
such a law is to encourage the Negro to secure education and property,
and at the same time it encourages the white man to remain in ignorance
and poverty. I believe that in time, through the operation of
intelligence and friendly race relations, all cheating at the
ballot-box in the South will cease. It will become apparent that the
white man who begins by cheating a Negro out of his ballot soon learns
to cheat a white man out of his, and that the man who does this ends
his career of dishonesty by the theft of property or by some equally
serious crime. In my opinion, the time will come when the South will
encourage all of its citizens to vote. It will see that it pays better,
from every standpoint, to have healthy, vigorous life than to have that
political stagnation which always results when one-half of the
population has no share and no interest in the Government.
As a rule, I believe in universal, free suffrage, but I believe that in
the South we are confronted with peculiar conditions that justify the
protection of the ballot in many of the states, for a while at least,
either by an education test, a property test, or by both combined; but
whatever tests are required, they should be made to apply with equal
and exact justice to both races.
Chapter XV.
The Secret Of Success In Public Speaking
As to how my address at Atlanta was received by the audience in the
Exposition building, I think I prefer to let Mr. James Creelman, the
noted war correspondent, tell. Mr. Creelman was present, and
telegraphed the following account to the New York World:—
Atlanta, September 18.
While President Cleveland was waiting at Gray Gables to-day, to send
the electric spark that started the machinery of the Atlanta
Exposition, a Negro Moses stood before a great audience of white people
and delivered an oration that marks a new epoch in the history of the
South; and a body of Negro troops marched in a procession with the
citizen soldiery of Georgia and Louisiana. The whole city is thrilling
to-night with a realization of the extraordinary significance of these
two unprecedented events. Nothing has happened since Henry Grady’s
immortal speech before the New England society in New York that
indicates so profoundly the spirit of the New South, except, perhaps,
the opening of the Exposition itself.
When Professor Booker T. Washington, Principal of an industrial school
for coloured people in Tuskegee, Ala. stood on the platform of the
Auditorium, with the sun shining over the heads of his auditors into
his eyes, and with his whole face lit up with the fire of prophecy,
Clark Howell, the successor of Henry Grady, said to me, “That man’s
speech is the beginning of a moral revolution in America.”
It is the first time that a Negro has made a speech in the South on any
important occasion before an audience composed of white men and women.
It electrified the audience, and the response was as if it had come
from the throat of a whirlwind.
Mrs. Thompson had hardly taken her seat when all eyes were turned on a
tall tawny Negro sitting in the front row of the platform. It was
Professor Booker T. Washington, President of the Tuskegee (Alabama)
Normal and Industrial Institute, who must rank from this time forth as
the foremost man of his race in America. Gilmore’s Band played the
“Star-Spangled Banner,” and the audience cheered. The tune changed to
“Dixie” and the audience roared with shrill “hi-yis.” Again the music
changed, this time to “Yankee Doodle,” and the clamour lessened.
All this time the eyes of the thousands present looked straight at the
Negro orator. A strange thing was to happen. A black man was to speak
for his people, with none to interrupt him. As Professor Washington
strode to the edge of the stage, the low, descending sun shot fiery
rays through the windows into his face. A great shout greeted him. He
turned his head to avoid the blinding light, and moved about the
platform for relief. Then he turned his wonderful countenance to the
sun without a blink of the eyelids, and began to talk.
There was a remarkable figure; tall, bony, straight as a Sioux chief,
high forehead, straight nose, heavy jaws, and strong, determined mouth,
with big white teeth, piercing eyes, and a commanding manner. The
sinews stood out on his bronzed neck, and his muscular right arm swung
high in the air, with a lead-pencil grasped in the clinched brown fist.
His big feet were planted squarely, with the heels together and the
toes turned out. His voice range out clear and true, and he paused
impressively as he made each point. Within ten minutes the multitude