Educating Black Men

From the shimmering swirl of waters where many, many thoughts ago the slave-ship first saw the square tower of Jamestown, have flowed down to our day three streams of thinking: one swollen from the larger world here and overseas, saying, the multiplying of human wants in culture-lands calls for the world-wide cooperation of men in satisfying them. Hence arises a new human unity, pulling the ends of earth nearer, and all men, black, yellow, and white. The larger humanity strives to feel in this contact of living Nations and sleeping hordes a thrill of new life in the world, crying, “If the contact of Life and Sleep be Death, shame on such Life.” To be sure, behind this thought lurks the afterthought of force and dominion,—the making of brown men to delve when the temptation of beads and red calico cloys.

Three streams of thought have flowed down to our day from those shimmering, swirling waters. There, many, many thoughts ago, the slave ship first sighted the square tower of Jamestown. One stream has swelled with ideas from the wider world, both here and overseas. This stream says that human wants are multiplying in developed societies. Meeting those wants calls for people around the world to cooperate. From this cooperation comes a new human unity. It draws the farthest corners of the earth closer, along with all people, black, yellow, and white. Humanity at large seeks to feel a thrill of new life as active nations meet sleeping masses. It cries, “If the meeting of Life and Sleep means Death, shame on such Life.” Yet behind this idea lurks another thought: force and domination. Brown men will be forced to dig when beads and red cotton cloth lose their appeal.

The second thought streaming from the death-ship and the curving river is the thought of the older South,—the sincere and passionate belief that somewhere between men and cattle, God created a tertium quid, and called it a Negro,—a clownish, simple creature, at times even lovable within its limitations, but straitly foreordained to walk within the Veil. To be sure, behind the thought lurks the afterthought,—some of them with favoring chance might become men, but in sheer self-defence we dare not let them, and we build about them walls so high, and hang between them and the light a veil so thick, that they shall not even think of breaking through.

The second thought flowing from the death-ship and the curving river is the belief of the older South. It is the sincere, passionate belief that God created a third kind of being somewhere between men and cattle. God called this being a Negro, a clownish, simple creature, sometimes even lovable within its limitations. But this creature was strictly destined to live within the Veil. To be sure, behind this belief lies another thought. Some Negroes, given a favorable chance, might become men. But in sheer self-defense, we dare not let them. So we build walls around them so high, and hang a veil between them and the light so thick, that they will not even think of breaking through.

And last of all there trickles down that third and darker thought,—the thought of the things themselves, the confused, half-conscious mutter of men who are black and whitened, crying “Liberty, Freedom, Opportunity—vouchsafe to us, O boastful World, the chance of living men!” To be sure, behind the thought lurks the afterthought,—suppose, after all, the World is right and we are less than men? Suppose this mad impulse within is all wrong, some mock mirage from the untrue?

And last of all, a third and darker thought trickles down: the thought of the things themselves. It is the confused, half-conscious murmur of men who are black and whitened. They cry, “Liberty, Freedom, Opportunity. Grant us, boastful World, the chance to live as men!” Yet behind that thought lurks another: suppose, after all, the World is right and we are less than men? Suppose this wild urge within us is all wrong, some deceptive mirage born of falsehood?

So here we stand among thoughts of human unity, even through conquest and slavery; the inferiority of black men, even if forced by fraud; a shriek in the night for the freedom of men who themselves are not yet sure of their right to demand it. This is the tangle of thought and afterthought wherein we are called to solve the problem of training men for life.

So here we stand amid thoughts of human unity, even through conquest and slavery. We face thoughts of black men's inferiority, even if that inferiority is imposed through fraud. We hear a cry in the night for the freedom of men still unsure of their right to demand freedom. Within this tangle of thoughts and second thoughts, we are called to solve the problem of preparing men for life.

Behind all its curiousness, so attractive alike to sage and dilettante, lie its dim dangers, throwing across us shadows at once grotesque and awful. Plain it is to us that what the world seeks through desert and wild we have within our threshold,—a stalwart laboring force, suited to the semi-tropics; if, deaf to the voice of the Zeitgeist, we refuse to use and develop these men, we risk poverty and loss. If, on the other hand, seized by the brutal afterthought, we debauch the race thus caught in our talons, selfishly sucking their blood and brains in the future as in the past, what shall save us from national decadence? Only that saner selfishness, which Education teaches, can find the rights of all in the whirl of work.

Behind all its strangeness, so appealing to scholars and casual enthusiasts alike, lie hidden dangers. These dangers cast shadows over us, both grotesque and terrifying. We plainly see that we already have at our doorstep what the world seeks through deserts and wilderness. We have a strong workforce suited to the semi-tropics. If we ignore the Zeitgeist, the spirit of the age, and refuse to employ and develop these men, we risk poverty and loss. But what if we turn instead to the brutal alternative? What if we corrupt the race caught in our claws, selfishly draining their blood and brains as we have before? Then what will save us from national decline? Only the wiser self-interest that education teaches can secure everyone's rights amid the rush of work.

Again, we may decry the color-prejudice of the South, yet it remains a heavy fact. Such curious kinks of the human mind exist and must be reckoned with soberly. They cannot be laughed away, nor always successfully stormed at, nor easily abolished by act of legislature. And yet they must not be encouraged by being let alone. They must be recognized as facts, but unpleasant facts; things that stand in the way of civilization and religion and common decency. They can be met in but one way,—by the breadth and broadening of human reason, by catholicity of taste and culture. And so, too, the native ambition and aspiration of men, even though they be black, backward, and ungraceful, must not lightly be dealt with. To stimulate wildly weak and untrained minds is to play with mighty fires; to flout their striving idly is to welcome a harvest of brutish crime and shameless lethargy in our very laps. The guiding of thought and the deft coordination of deed is at once the path of honor and humanity.

Again, we may condemn the South’s racial prejudice, yet it remains a harsh reality. Such strange twists of the human mind exist and must be taken seriously. Prejudice cannot be laughed away, nor can angry attacks always overcome it. Nor can laws easily abolish it. And yet prejudice must not be encouraged by being left alone. Such prejudices must be recognized as facts, but as unpleasant facts. They stand in the way of civilization, religion, and common decency. There is only one way to confront them: through broad and expanding human reason, and open-minded taste and culture. So, too, people’s natural ambitions and hopes must not be treated lightly, even if those people are black, undeveloped, and unpolished. Recklessly stirring up weak and untrained minds is playing with powerful fires. Casually mocking their efforts invites a harvest of brutal crime and shameless idleness into our very midst. Guiding thought and skillfully coordinating action is the path of both honor and humanity.

And so, in this great question of reconciling three vast and partially contradictory streams of thought, the one panacea of Education leaps to the lips of all:—such human training as will best use the labor of all men without enslaving or brutalizing; such training as will give us poise to encourage the prejudices that bulwark society, and to stamp out those that in sheer barbarity deafen us to the wail of prisoned souls within the Veil, and the mounting fury of shackled men.

And so we face the great question of reconciling three vast, partly conflicting streams of thought. Everyone names Education as the one cure for all: training that makes the best use of everyone’s labor without enslaving or brutalizing anyone. Such training should give us the balance to encourage prejudices that support society and stamp out those rooted in sheer barbarity. Those brutal prejudices make us deaf to the cries of imprisoned souls within the Veil and the growing fury of shackled men.

But when we have vaguely said that Education will set this tangle straight, what have we uttered but a truism? Training for life teaches living; but what training for the profitable living together of black men and white? A hundred and fifty years ago our task would have seemed easier. Then Dr. Johnson blandly assured us that education was needful solely for the embellishments of life, and was useless for ordinary vermin. To-day we have climbed to heights where we would open at least the outer courts of knowledge to all, display its treasures to many, and select the few to whom its mystery of Truth is revealed, not wholly by birth or the accidents of the stock market, but at least in part according to deftness and aim, talent and character. This programme, however, we are sorely puzzled in carrying out through that part of the land where the blight of slavery fell hardest, and where we are dealing with two backward peoples. To make here in human education that ever necessary combination of the permanent and the contingent—of the ideal and the practical in workable equilibrium—has been there, as it ever must be in every age and place, a matter of infinite experiment and frequent mistakes.

But when we vaguely say that education will straighten out this tangle, what have we said beyond the obvious? Training for life teaches us how to live. But what training will teach black men and white men to live together for their mutual benefit? A hundred and fifty years ago, our task would have seemed easier. Back then, Dr. Johnson calmly assured us that education was needed only to add polish to life. It was useless for ordinary vermin. Today we have advanced enough to open at least the outer courts of knowledge to all. We would show its treasures to many and choose the few to whom its mystery of Truth is revealed. Our choices would not depend entirely on birth or the accidents of the stock market. They would depend at least partly on skill and purpose, talent and character. Yet we struggle to carry out this plan where slavery's damage was greatest, and where we face two backward peoples. Education there requires an always necessary balance between lasting principles and changing circumstances, between the ideal and the practical. Making that balance work has required endless experimentation and frequent mistakes, as it always must, in every age and place.

In rough approximation we may point out four varying decades of work in Southern education since the Civil War. From the close of the war until 1876, was the period of uncertain groping and temporary relief. There were army schools, mission schools, and schools of the Freedmen’s Bureau in chaotic disarrangement seeking system and co-operation. Then followed ten years of constructive definite effort toward the building of complete school systems in the South. Normal schools and colleges were founded for the freedmen, and teachers trained there to man the public schools. There was the inevitable tendency of war to underestimate the prejudices of the master and the ignorance of the slave, and all seemed clear sailing out of the wreckage of the storm. Meantime, starting in this decade yet especially developing from 1885 to 1895, began the industrial revolution of the South. The land saw glimpses of a new destiny and the stirring of new ideals. The educational system striving to complete itself saw new obstacles and a field of work ever broader and deeper. The Negro colleges, hurriedly founded, were inadequately equipped, illogically distributed, and of varying efficiency and grade; the normal and high schools were doing little more than common-school work, and the common schools were training but a third of the children who ought to be in them, and training these too often poorly. At the same time the white South, by reason of its sudden conversion from the slavery ideal, by so much the more became set and strengthened in its racial prejudice, and crystallized it into harsh law and harsher custom; while the marvellous pushing forward of the poor white daily threatened to take even bread and butter from the mouths of the heavily handicapped sons of the freedmen. In the midst, then, of the larger problem of Negro education sprang up the more practical question of work, the inevitable economic quandary that faces a people in the transition from slavery to freedom, and especially those who make that change amid hate and prejudice, lawlessness and ruthless competition.

We can roughly identify four distinct decades of work in Southern education since the Civil War. From the war’s end until 1876, efforts were uncertain and focused on temporary relief. Army schools, mission schools, and schools of the Freedmen’s Bureau operated in chaotic disorder, seeking organization and cooperation. Then came ten years of focused, constructive work to build complete school systems in the South. Teacher-training schools and colleges were founded for the freedmen. Teachers trained there to staff the public schools. War inevitably led people to underestimate the prejudices of former masters and the ignorance of formerly enslaved people. All seemed set for smooth sailing beyond the storm’s wreckage. Meanwhile, the South’s industrial revolution began during this decade and developed especially from 1885 to 1895. The region glimpsed a new destiny and felt new ideals stirring. As the educational system struggled to become complete, new obstacles appeared, and its work grew broader and deeper. The Negro colleges, founded in haste, lacked adequate equipment, were located without a sensible plan, and varied in effectiveness and level. The teacher-training schools and high schools were doing little more than elementary school work. The elementary schools taught only a third of the children who should have attended, and often taught even those children poorly. At the same time, the white South had been suddenly forced to abandon the ideal of slavery. As a result, its racial prejudice became all the more fixed and strong. The white South turned that prejudice into harsh laws and even harsher customs. Meanwhile, poor white people were making remarkable advances. Every day, their progress threatened to take even basic necessities from the severely disadvantaged sons of the freedmen. Thus, within the broader problem of Negro education, the more practical question of work arose. This was the inevitable economic dilemma facing a people moving from slavery to freedom. It was especially pressing for those making that transition amid hatred and prejudice, lawlessness and ruthless competition.

The industrial school springing to notice in this decade, but coming to full recognition in the decade beginning with 1895, was the proffered answer to this combined educational and economic crisis, and an answer of singular wisdom and timeliness. From the very first in nearly all the schools some attention had been given to training in handiwork, but now was this training first raised to a dignity that brought it in direct touch with the South’s magnificent industrial development, and given an emphasis which reminded black folk that before the Temple of Knowledge swing the Gates of Toil.

Industrial schools began attracting attention in this decade, but gained full recognition in the decade beginning in 1895. They were offered as an answer to the combined educational and economic crisis, an unusually wise and timely answer. From the start, nearly all the schools had given some attention to training in manual work. But only now did this training gain enough respect to connect directly with the South’s magnificent industrial growth. This new emphasis reminded black folk that the Gates of Toil stand before the Temple of Knowledge.

Yet after all they are but gates, and when turning our eyes from the temporary and the contingent in the Negro problem to the broader question of the permanent uplifting and civilization of black men in America, we have a right to inquire, as this enthusiasm for material advancement mounts to its height, if after all the industrial school is the final and sufficient answer in the training of the Negro race; and to ask gently, but in all sincerity, the ever-recurring query of the ages, Is not life more than meat, and the body more than raiment? And men ask this to-day all the more eagerly because of sinister signs in recent educational movements. The tendency is here, born of slavery and quickened to renewed life by the crazy imperialism of the day, to regard human beings as among the material resources of a land to be trained with an eye single to future dividends. Race-prejudices, which keep brown and black men in their “places,” we are coming to regard as useful allies with such a theory, no matter how much they may dull the ambition and sicken the hearts of struggling human beings. And above all, we daily hear that an education that encourages aspiration, that sets the loftiest of ideals and seeks as an end culture and character rather than bread-winning, is the privilege of white men and the danger and delusion of black.

Yet after all, they are only gateways. We must look beyond the temporary and changing aspects of the Negro problem. The broader question is how to achieve lasting progress and civilization for Black people in America. As enthusiasm for material progress reaches its peak, we have a right to ask a question. Is vocational schooling, after all, the complete and sufficient answer to educating Black people? We may also ask gently, but with complete sincerity, the question that returns in every age: Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing? People ask these questions even more urgently today because of troubling signs in recent educational movements. There is a tendency to treat human beings as part of a country's material resources. Under this view, people are trained solely for the profits they will later produce. This tendency grew out of slavery, and today's mad imperialism has given it new life. We are coming to see racial prejudices as useful allies of this theory. These prejudices keep brown and Black people in their “places.” We accept their usefulness, no matter how much they may weaken ambition and wound the hearts of struggling people. Above all, we hear a claim every day about education that encourages ambition and sets the highest ideals. Such education aims at culture and character rather than earning a living. Yet we are told that this education is a privilege for white people, but a danger and delusion for Black people.

Especially has criticism been directed against the former educational efforts to aid the Negro. In the four periods I have mentioned, we find first, boundless, planless enthusiasm and sacrifice; then the preparation of teachers for a vast public-school system; then the launching and expansion of that school system amid increasing difficulties; and finally the training of workmen for the new and growing industries. This development has been sharply ridiculed as a logical anomaly and flat reversal of nature. Soothly we have been told that first industrial and manual training should have taught the Negro to work, then simple schools should have taught him to read and write, and finally, after years, high and normal schools could have completed the system, as intelligence and wealth demanded.

Earlier efforts to educate the Negro have drawn particular criticism. In the four periods I have mentioned, we first find boundless enthusiasm and sacrifice, but no clear plan. Next came the training of teachers for a vast public school system. Then came the launch and expansion of that school system amid growing difficulties. Finally came the training of workers for new and growing industries. Critics have sharply ridiculed this development as illogical and completely contrary to the natural order. Indeed, we have been told that industrial and manual training should first have taught the Negro to work. Then basic schools should have taught him to read and write. Finally, after years, high schools and teacher-training schools could have completed the system, as learning and wealth required.

That a system logically so complete was historically impossible, it needs but a little thought to prove. Progress in human affairs is more often a pull than a push, a surging forward of the exceptional man, and the lifting of his duller brethren slowly and painfully to his vantage-ground. Thus it was no accident that gave birth to universities centuries before the common schools, that made fair Harvard the first flower of our wilderness. So in the South: the mass of the freedmen at the end of the war lacked the intelligence so necessary to modern workingmen. They must first have the common school to teach them to read, write, and cipher; and they must have higher schools to teach teachers for the common schools. The white teachers who flocked South went to establish such a common-school system. Few held the idea of founding colleges; most of them at first would have laughed at the idea. But they faced, as all men since them have faced, that central paradox of the South,—the social separation of the races. At that time it was the sudden volcanic rupture of nearly all relations between black and white, in work and government and family life. Since then a new adjustment of relations in economic and political affairs has grown up,—an adjustment subtle and difficult to grasp, yet singularly ingenious, which leaves still that frightful chasm at the color-line across which men pass at their peril. Thus, then and now, there stand in the South two separate worlds; and separate not simply in the higher realms of social intercourse, but also in church and school, on railway and street-car, in hotels and theatres, in streets and city sections, in books and newspapers, in asylums and jails, in hospitals and graveyards. There is still enough of contact for large economic and group cooperation, but the separation is so thorough and deep that it absolutely precludes for the present between the races anything like that sympathetic and effective group-training and leadership of the one by the other, such as the American Negro and all backward peoples must have for effectual progress.

A little thought shows that a system so logically complete was impossible in practice, given the course of history. Progress in human affairs is more often a pull than a push. An exceptional man surges forward, then slowly and painfully lifts his less gifted fellows to his level. So universities appeared centuries before public elementary schools, and beautiful Harvard became the first flower of our wilderness. Neither development was an accident. The same was true in the South. At the war’s end, most freedmen lacked the knowledge so necessary for modern workers. First, they needed elementary schools to teach them reading, writing, and arithmetic. They also needed higher schools to train teachers for the elementary schools. The white teachers who flocked South came to establish such an elementary school system. Few intended to found colleges. At first, most would have laughed at the idea. But they faced the South’s central paradox, as everyone who followed them has: the social separation of the races. At that time, nearly all relations between black and white people had suddenly broken apart with volcanic force. The rupture extended to work, government, and family life. Since then, a new arrangement of economic and political relations has developed. This arrangement is subtle and hard to grasp, yet remarkably ingenious. Still, it leaves that terrible gulf along the color-line, which people cross at their peril. So, then as now, two separate worlds stand in the South. Their separation extends beyond the upper levels of social interaction. It reaches churches and schools, railways and streetcars, hotels and theaters, streets and city neighborhoods, books and newspapers. It also reaches asylums and jails, hospitals and graveyards. Enough contact remains for large-scale economic cooperation and cooperation between groups. But the separation is so complete and deep that, for now, it entirely prevents one race from guiding the other. Such guidance would require understanding, effective education, and leadership for the group as a whole. The American Negro and all peoples who lag behind in development must have such guidance to make real progress.

This the missionaries of ’68 soon saw; and if effective industrial and trade schools were impracticable before the establishment of a common-school system, just as certainly no adequate common schools could be founded until there were teachers to teach them. Southern whites would not teach them; Northern whites in sufficient numbers could not be had. If the Negro was to learn, he must teach himself, and the most effective help that could be given him was the establishment of schools to train Negro teachers. This conclusion was slowly but surely reached by every student of the situation until simultaneously, in widely separated regions, without consultation or systematic plan, there arose a series of institutions designed to furnish teachers for the untaught. Above the sneers of critics at the obvious defects of this procedure must ever stand its one crushing rejoinder: in a single generation they put thirty thousand black teachers in the South; they wiped out the illiteracy of the majority of the black people of the land, and they made Tuskegee possible.

The missionaries of 1868 soon saw this. If effective industrial and trade schools were impractical before a public school system existed, another need was just as certain. No adequate public schools could be established until there were teachers to staff them. Southern white people would not teach Black students. Not enough Northern white people were available. If Black people were to learn, they would have to teach themselves. The most effective help they could receive was the establishment of schools to train Black teachers. Everyone who studied the situation slowly but surely reached this conclusion. So, at the same time, institutions sprang up in widely separated regions to provide teachers for those without schooling. These institutions arose without consultation or any organized plan. Critics sneered at the obvious flaws in this approach. But one overwhelming answer must always outweigh their sneers: in a single generation, these institutions placed thirty thousand Black teachers in the South. They eliminated illiteracy among the majority of the nation’s Black people, and they made Tuskegee possible.

Such higher training-schools tended naturally to deepen broader development: at first they were common and grammar schools, then some became high schools. And finally, by 1900, some thirty-four had one year or more of studies of college grade. This development was reached with different degrees of speed in different institutions: Hampton is still a high school, while Fisk University started her college in 1871, and Spelman Seminary about 1896. In all cases the aim was identical,—to maintain the standards of the lower training by giving teachers and leaders the best practicable training; and above all, to furnish the black world with adequate standards of human culture and lofty ideals of life. It was not enough that the teachers of teachers should be trained in technical normal methods; they must also, so far as possible, be broad-minded, cultured men and women, to scatter civilization among a people whose ignorance was not simply of letters, but of life itself.

These higher training schools naturally developed further and broadened their teaching. At first, they were elementary and grammar schools, but some later became high schools. Finally, by 1900, some thirty-four offered one year or more of college-level studies. Different institutions developed at different speeds. Hampton is still a high school, while Fisk University began its college program in 1871, and Spelman Seminary around 1896. In all cases, the aim was the same: to maintain standards in the lower schools through teacher and leadership training. Teachers and leaders were to receive the best training possible. Above all, these schools aimed to give the black world adequate standards of human culture and high ideals for life. Training teachers of teachers only in the technical methods of teacher education was not enough. As far as possible, these educators also had to be broad-minded, cultured men and women. Their task was to spread civilization among a people whose ignorance concerned not just reading and writing, but life itself.

It can thus be seen that the work of education in the South began with higher institutions of training, which threw off as their foliage common schools, and later industrial schools, and at the same time strove to shoot their roots ever deeper toward college and university training. That this was an inevitable and necessary development, sooner or later, goes without saying; but there has been, and still is, a question in many minds if the natural growth was not forced, and if the higher training was not either overdone or done with cheap and unsound methods. Among white Southerners this feeling is widespread and positive. A prominent Southern journal voiced this in a recent editorial.

We can thus see that education in the South began with institutions offering advanced training. These institutions sprouted common schools like leaves, followed later by industrial schools. At the same time, their roots reached ever deeper toward college and university education. This development was clearly inevitable and necessary, sooner or later. But many people have questioned, and still question, whether this natural growth was forced. They also question whether advanced training was overdone or provided through cheap, unsound methods. Among white Southerners, these doubts are widespread and firmly held. A prominent Southern newspaper expressed this view in a recent editorial.

While most fair-minded men would recognize this as extreme and overdrawn, still without doubt many are asking, Are there a sufficient number of Negroes ready for college training to warrant the undertaking? Are not too many students prematurely forced into this work? Does it not have the effect of dissatisfying the young Negro with his environment? And do these graduates succeed in real life? Such natural questions cannot be evaded, nor on the other hand must a Nation naturally skeptical as to Negro ability assume an unfavorable answer without careful inquiry and patient openness to conviction. We must not forget that most Americans answer all queries regarding the Negro a priori, and that the least that human courtesy can do is to listen to evidence.

Most fair-minded people would recognize this as extreme and exaggerated. Still, many are undoubtedly asking: Are enough Black people ready for college education to justify the effort? Are too many students being pushed into college before they are ready? Does college make young Black people dissatisfied with their surroundings? And do these graduates succeed in real life? These natural questions cannot be avoided. But a nation already inclined to doubt Black people's abilities must not assume the answers are unfavorable. It must investigate carefully and remain patiently open to being convinced. We must not forget that most Americans answer all questions about Black people before considering the evidence. The least that basic courtesy demands is a willingness to listen to the evidence.

The advocates of the higher education of the Negro would be the last to deny the incompleteness and glaring defects of the present system: too many institutions have attempted to do college work, the work in some cases has not been thoroughly done, and quantity rather than quality has sometimes been sought. But all this can be said of higher education throughout the land; it is the almost inevitable incident of educational growth, and leaves the deeper question of the legitimate demand for the higher training of Negroes untouched. And this latter question can be settled in but one way,—by a first-hand study of the facts. If we leave out of view all institutions which have not actually graduated students from a course higher than that of a New England high school, even though they be called colleges; if then we take the thirty-four remaining institutions, we may clear up many misapprehensions by asking searchingly, What kind of institutions are they? what do they teach? and what sort of men do they graduate?

Supporters of higher education for Black people would be the last to deny the current system’s shortcomings and glaring flaws. Too many institutions have tried to offer college-level education. In some cases, the work has not been thorough, and quantity has sometimes taken priority over quality. But all these criticisms apply to higher education throughout the country. Such problems are an almost inevitable part of educational growth. They do not address the deeper question of whether there is a legitimate demand for higher education among Black people. That question can be settled in only one way: by studying the facts firsthand. Suppose we set aside all institutions that have not actually graduated students from programs beyond New England high school level. We would exclude those institutions even if they call themselves colleges. If we then examine the thirty-four remaining institutions, we may clear up many misunderstandings by asking some searching questions. What kind of institutions are they? What do they teach? And what sort of men do they graduate?

And first we may say that this type of college, including Atlanta, Fisk, and Howard, Wilberforce and Claflin, Shaw, and the rest, is peculiar, almost unique. Through the shining trees that whisper before me as I write, I catch glimpses of a boulder of New England granite, covering a grave, which graduates of Atlanta University have placed there,—

First, we may say that this type of college is unusual, almost unique. These colleges include Atlanta, Fisk, Howard, Wilberforce, Claflin, Shaw, and the rest. As I write, I catch glimpses of a New England granite boulder through the shining trees whispering before me. The boulder covers a grave, and graduates of Atlanta University placed it there.

This was the gift of New England to the freed Negro: not alms, but a friend; not cash, but character. It was not and is not money these seething millions want, but love and sympathy, the pulse of hearts beating with red blood;—a gift which to-day only their own kindred and race can bring to the masses, but which once saintly souls brought to their favored children in the crusade of the sixties, that finest thing in American history, and one of the few things untainted by sordid greed and cheap vainglory. The teachers in these institutions came not to keep the Negroes in their place, but to raise them out of the defilement of the places where slavery had wallowed them. The colleges they founded were social settlements; homes where the best of the sons of the freedmen came in close and sympathetic touch with the best traditions of New England. They lived and ate together, studied and worked, hoped and harkened in the dawning light. In actual formal content their curriculum was doubtless old-fashioned, but in educational power it was supreme, for it was the contact of living souls.

This was New England’s gift to the freed Black people: not charity, but a friend, not cash, but character. These restless millions did not want money then, and do not want it now. They want love and sympathy, the pulse of warm, living hearts. Today, only their own families and race can bring that gift to the masses. But saintly souls once brought that gift to their fortunate students during the crusade of the 1860s. That crusade was the finest thing in American history. It was also one of the few things untouched by dirty greed and cheap vanity. The teachers in these institutions did not come to keep Black people in their place. They came to lift Black people out of the degrading conditions into which slavery had forced them. The colleges these teachers founded were homes and centers of community life. There, the finest sons of formerly enslaved people formed close, sympathetic connections with New England’s best traditions. Teachers and students lived and ate together, studied and worked, hoped and listened as the light of a new day dawned. The formal content of their courses was doubtless old-fashioned. But their educational power was unmatched, because living souls connected with one another.

From such schools about two thousand Negroes have gone forth with the bachelor’s degree. The number in itself is enough to put at rest the argument that too large a proportion of Negroes are receiving higher training. If the ratio to population of all Negro students throughout the land, in both college and secondary training, be counted, Commissioner Harris assures us “it must be increased to five times its present average” to equal the average of the land.

About two thousand Black students have graduated from such schools with bachelor’s degrees. That number alone is enough to settle the argument that too many Black people are receiving higher education. Consider all Black students nationwide, in both college and secondary school, as a proportion of the Black population. Commissioner Harris assures us that, if this proportion is counted, “it must rise to five times its current level” to match the national average.

Fifty years ago the ability of Negro students in any appreciable numbers to master a modern college course would have been difficult to prove. To-day it is proved by the fact that four hundred Negroes, many of whom have been reported as brilliant students, have received the bachelor’s degree from Harvard, Yale, Oberlin, and seventy other leading colleges. Here we have, then, nearly twenty-five hundred Negro graduates, of whom the crucial query must be made, How far did their training fit them for life? It is of course extremely difficult to collect satisfactory data on such a point,—difficult to reach the men, to get trustworthy testimony, and to gauge that testimony by any generally acceptable criterion of success. In 1900, the Conference at Atlanta University undertook to study these graduates, and published the results. First they sought to know what these graduates were doing, and succeeded in getting answers from nearly two-thirds of the living. The direct testimony was in almost all cases corroborated by the reports of the colleges where they graduated, so that in the main the reports were worthy of credence. Fifty-three per cent of these graduates were teachers,—presidents of institutions, heads of normal schools, principals of city school-systems, and the like. Seventeen per cent were clergymen; another seventeen per cent were in the professions, chiefly as physicians. Over six per cent were merchants, farmers, and artisans, and four per cent were in the government civil-service. Granting even that a considerable proportion of the third unheard from are unsuccessful, this is a record of usefulness. Personally I know many hundreds of these graduates, and have corresponded with more than a thousand; through others I have followed carefully the life-work of scores; I have taught some of them and some of the pupils whom they have taught, lived in homes which they have builded, and looked at life through their eyes. Comparing them as a class with my fellow students in New England and in Europe, I cannot hesitate in saying that nowhere have I met men and women with a broader spirit of helpfulness, with deeper devotion to their life-work, or with more consecrated determination to succeed in the face of bitter difficulties than among Negro college-bred men. They have, to be sure, their proportion of ne’er-do-wells, their pedants and lettered fools, but they have a surprisingly small proportion of them; they have not that culture of manner which we instinctively associate with university men, forgetting that in reality it is the heritage from cultured homes, and that no people a generation removed from slavery can escape a certain unpleasant rawness and gaucherie, despite the best of training.

Fifty years ago, proving that significant numbers of Black students could master a modern college curriculum would have been difficult. Today, four hundred Black graduates of Harvard, Yale, Oberlin, and seventy other leading colleges prove that ability. Many of these graduates have been described as brilliant students. We have, then, nearly twenty-five hundred Black college graduates, and we must ask a crucial question about them. How well did their education prepare them for life? Of course, gathering reliable information on this question is extremely difficult. It is hard to reach the graduates, get trustworthy accounts, and judge those accounts by any widely accepted standard of success. In 1900, the Conference at Atlanta University undertook a study of these graduates and published the results. First, the researchers sought to learn what the graduates were doing. They received answers from nearly two-thirds of the living graduates. In almost every case, reports from the graduates’ colleges supported the graduates’ own accounts. The reports were therefore generally trustworthy. Fifty-three percent of these graduates were teachers. They included college presidents, heads of teacher-training schools, leaders of city school systems, and others in similar positions. Seventeen percent were clergy. Another seventeen percent worked in other professions, chiefly as physicians. More than six percent were merchants, farmers, and skilled tradespeople. Four percent worked in the government civil service. Even if a considerable share of the third who did not respond are unsuccessful, this record shows useful work. Personally, I know many hundreds of these graduates and have corresponded with more than a thousand. Through others, I have carefully followed the life’s work of scores of these graduates. I have taught some of them, as well as some of their pupils. I have lived in homes these graduates built and looked at life through their eyes. I compare these graduates as a group with my fellow students in New England and Europe. I can say without hesitation that nowhere have I met men and women more committed to helping others. Nowhere have I found deeper devotion to their life’s work or more dedicated determination to succeed despite bitter difficulties. Black college graduates certainly include their share of failures, pedants, and educated fools. But that share is surprisingly small. These graduates lack the polished manners we instinctively associate with university-educated men. We forget that such manners actually come from growing up in cultured homes. We also forget that no people just one generation out of slavery can escape some unpleasant roughness and social awkwardness. Even the best education cannot prevent that.

With all their larger vision and deeper sensibility, these men have usually been conservative, careful leaders. They have seldom been agitators, have withstood the temptation to head the mob, and have worked steadily and faithfully in a thousand communities in the South. As teachers, they have given the South a commendable system of city schools and large numbers of private normal-schools and academies. Colored college-bred men have worked side by side with white college graduates at Hampton; almost from the beginning the backbone of Tuskegee’s teaching force has been formed of graduates from Fisk and Atlanta. And to-day the institute is filled with college graduates, from the energetic wife of the principal down to the teacher of agriculture, including nearly half of the executive council and a majority of the heads of departments. In the professions, college men are slowly but surely leavening the Negro church, are healing and preventing the devastations of disease, and beginning to furnish legal protection for the liberty and property of the toiling masses. All this is needful work. Who would do it if Negroes did not? How could Negroes do it if they were not trained carefully for it? If white people need colleges to furnish teachers, ministers, lawyers, and doctors, do black people need nothing of the sort?

Despite their broader vision and deeper sensitivity, these men have usually been cautious, conservative leaders. They have rarely been agitators and have resisted the temptation to lead the mob. They have worked steadily and faithfully in a thousand communities across the South. As teachers, they have given the South a city school system worthy of praise. They have also established many private teacher-training schools and academies. Black college graduates have worked alongside white college graduates at Hampton. Almost from the beginning, graduates of Fisk and Atlanta have formed the backbone of Tuskegee’s teaching staff. Today, the institute is filled with college graduates, from the principal’s energetic wife to the agriculture teacher. These graduates include nearly half the executive council and a majority of department heads. In the professions, college-educated Black men are slowly but surely improving the Black church from within. They are treating and preventing the devastation caused by disease. They are also beginning to provide legal protection for the freedom and property of the working masses. All this work is necessary. Who would do this work if Black people did not? How could Black people do this work without careful training? If white people need colleges to train teachers, ministers, lawyers, and doctors, do Black people need nothing of the kind?

If it is true that there are an appreciable number of Negro youth in the land capable by character and talent to receive that higher training, the end of which is culture, and if the two and a half thousand who have had something of this training in the past have in the main proved themselves useful to their race and generation, the question then comes, What place in the future development of the South ought the Negro college and college-bred man to occupy? That the present social separation and acute race-sensitiveness must eventually yield to the influences of culture, as the South grows civilized, is clear. But such transformation calls for singular wisdom and patience. If, while the healing of this vast sore is progressing, the races are to live for many years side by side, united in economic effort, obeying a common government, sensitive to mutual thought and feeling, yet subtly and silently separate in many matters of deeper human intimacy,—if this unusual and dangerous development is to progress amid peace and order, mutual respect and growing intelligence, it will call for social surgery at once the delicatest and nicest in modern history. It will demand broad-minded, upright men, both white and black, and in its final accomplishment American civilization will triumph. So far as white men are concerned, this fact is to-day being recognized in the South, and a happy renaissance of university education seems imminent. But the very voices that cry hail to this good work are, strange to relate, largely silent or antagonistic to the higher education of the Negro.

If a significant number of young Black people in this country have the character and talent for higher education aimed at developing culture, a question follows. The same question follows if the 2,500 who have received some such education have mostly served their race and generation well. What role should Black colleges and college-educated Black people play in the South’s future development? Clearly, today’s social separation and intense racial sensitivities must eventually give way to the influence of culture as the South becomes civilized. But such a transformation requires exceptional wisdom and patience. While this vast wound heals, the races may have to live side by side for many years. They may work together economically, obey the same government, and remain sensitive to one another’s thoughts and feelings. Yet they may remain subtly and silently separate in many areas of deeper human intimacy. If this unusual and dangerous development is to proceed peacefully and orderly, with mutual respect and growing understanding, extraordinary care will be needed. The process will require social surgery more delicate and precise than almost any in modern history. It will demand open-minded, principled people, both white and Black. The successful completion of this transformation will be a triumph for American civilization. Today, the South is recognizing the need for such educated leaders among white people. A welcome revival of university education seems near. But strangely, the very voices celebrating this good work largely remain silent about, or oppose, higher education for Black people.

Strange to relate! for this is certain, no secure civilization can be built in the South with the Negro as an ignorant, turbulent proletariat. Suppose we seek to remedy this by making them laborers and nothing more: they are not fools, they have tasted of the Tree of Life, and they will not cease to think, will not cease attempting to read the riddle of the world. By taking away their best equipped teachers and leaders, by slamming the door of opportunity in the faces of their bolder and brighter minds, will you make them satisfied with their lot? or will you not rather transfer their leading from the hands of men taught to think to the hands of untrained demagogues? We ought not to forget that despite the pressure of poverty, and despite the active discouragement and even ridicule of friends, the demand for higher training steadily increases among Negro youth: there were, in the years from 1875 to 1880, 22 Negro graduates from Northern colleges; from 1885 to 1890 there were 43, and from 1895 to 1900, nearly 100 graduates. From Southern Negro colleges there were, in the same three periods, 143, 413, and over 500 graduates. Here, then, is the plain thirst for training; by refusing to give this Talented Tenth the key to knowledge, can any sane man imagine that they will lightly lay aside their yearning and contentedly become hewers of wood and drawers of water?

Strange to say! For one thing is certain: no secure civilization can be built in the South with Black people as an uneducated, restless working class. Suppose we try to solve this problem by making Black people laborers and nothing more. They are not fools. They have tasted the Tree of Life. They will not stop thinking or trying to solve the riddle of the world. Will you make them satisfied with their lives by taking away their best-prepared teachers and leaders? Will you satisfy them by slamming the door of opportunity in the faces of their bolder, brighter minds? Or will you instead shift their leadership from educated thinkers to untrained demagogues? We should not forget that demand for higher education keeps growing among Black youth, despite poverty and friends' active discouragement and even ridicule. From 1875 to 1880, 22 Black students graduated from Northern colleges. From 1885 to 1890, there were 43, and from 1895 to 1900, nearly 100. Southern Negro colleges produced 143, 413, and over 500 graduates during those same three periods. Here, then, is a clear thirst for education. Suppose we refuse to give this Talented Tenth the key to knowledge. Can any reasonable person imagine they will easily abandon their longing and happily settle for chopping wood and carrying water?

No. The dangerously clear logic of the Negro’s position will more and more loudly assert itself in that day when increasing wealth and more intricate social organization preclude the South from being, as it so largely is, simply an armed camp for intimidating black folk. Such waste of energy cannot be spared if the South is to catch up with civilization. And as the black third of the land grows in thrift and skill, unless skilfully guided in its larger philosophy, it must more and more brood over the red past and the creeping, crooked present, until it grasps a gospel of revolt and revenge and throws its new-found energies athwart the current of advance. Even to-day the masses of the Negroes see all too clearly the anomalies of their position and the moral crookedness of yours. You may marshal strong indictments against them, but their counter-cries, lacking though they be in formal logic, have burning truths within them which you may not wholly ignore, O Southern Gentlemen! If you deplore their presence here, they ask, Who brought us? When you cry, Deliver us from the vision of intermarriage, they answer that legal marriage is infinitely better than systematic concubinage and prostitution. And if in just fury you accuse their vagabonds of violating women, they also in fury quite as just may reply: The rape which your gentlemen have done against helpless black women in defiance of your own laws is written on the foreheads of two millions of mulattoes, and written in ineffaceable blood. And finally, when you fasten crime upon this race as its peculiar trait, they answer that slavery was the arch-crime, and lynching and lawlessness its twin abortions; that color and race are not crimes, and yet it is they which in this land receive most unceasing condemnation, North, East, South, and West.

No. The dangerously clear logic of Black people’s position will make itself heard more and more loudly. That day will come when growing wealth and more complex social organization prevent the South from remaining largely an armed camp. That camp exists to intimidate Black people. The South cannot afford such wasted energy if it is to catch up with civilization. And as the Black third of the population grows more thrifty and skilled, a danger grows too. Unless skillfully guided toward a broader outlook, Black people must dwell increasingly on the bloody past and the creeping, corrupt present. Eventually, they will embrace a gospel of revolt and revenge, turning their newfound energies against the course of progress. Even today, the Black masses see all too clearly the contradictions in their position and the moral corruption in yours. You may bring serious charges against them. But their answering cries contain burning truths, though their arguments may lack formal logic. You cannot entirely ignore those truths, Southern Gentlemen! If you deplore their presence here, they ask, Who brought us? When you cry, Spare us the prospect of interracial marriage, they have an answer. Legal marriage is infinitely better than a system of keeping mistresses and prostitution. And if you justly rage against their vagrants for raping women, they may answer with equally just anger: Your gentlemen have raped defenseless Black women in defiance of your own laws. The evidence is written on the faces of two million people of mixed Black and white ancestry. It is written in blood that cannot be erased. And finally, when you brand crime as a defining trait of this race, they answer that slavery was the greatest crime. Lynching and lawlessness were slavery’s twin monstrous offspring. Color and race are not crimes. Yet in this country, color and race receive the most relentless condemnation, North, East, South, and West.

I will not say such arguments are wholly justified,—I will not insist that there is no other side to the shield; but I do say that of the nine millions of Negroes in this nation, there is scarcely one out of the cradle to whom these arguments do not daily present themselves in the guise of terrible truth. I insist that the question of the future is how best to keep these millions from brooding over the wrongs of the past and the difficulties of the present, so that all their energies may be bent toward a cheerful striving and cooperation with their white neighbors toward a larger, juster, and fuller future. That one wise method of doing this lies in the closer knitting of the Negro to the great industrial possibilities of the South is a great truth. And this the common schools and the manual training and trade schools are working to accomplish. But these alone are not enough. The foundations of knowledge in this race, as in others, must be sunk deep in the college and university if we would build a solid, permanent structure. Internal problems of social advance must inevitably come, —problems of work and wages, of families and homes, of morals and the true valuing of the things of life; and all these and other inevitable problems of civilization the Negro must meet and solve largely for himself, by reason of his isolation; and can there be any possible solution other than by study and thought and an appeal to the rich experience of the past? Is there not, with such a group and in such a crisis, infinitely more danger to be apprehended from half-trained minds and shallow thinking than from over-education and over-refinement? Surely we have wit enough to found a Negro college so manned and equipped as to steer successfully between the dilettante and the fool. We shall hardly induce black men to believe that if their stomachs be full, it matters little about their brains. They already dimly perceive that the paths of peace winding between honest toil and dignified manhood call for the guidance of skilled thinkers, the loving, reverent comradeship between the black lowly and the black men emancipated by training and culture.

I will not say these arguments are entirely justified. Nor will I insist that there is no other side to the story. But this nation has nine million Negroes. Scarcely one beyond infancy escapes feeling these arguments as terrible truths every day. I insist that the question for the future is how best to keep these millions from dwelling on past wrongs and present difficulties. The aim is to direct all their energies toward hopeful effort and cooperation with their white neighbors. Together, they can work toward a greater, fairer, and fuller future. One wise approach is to connect Negroes more closely with the South’s great industrial opportunities. This is an important truth. Public schools, manual training programs, and trade schools are working toward that goal. But these schools alone are not enough. For this race, as for others, knowledge must have deep foundations in colleges and universities. Only then can we build a solid, lasting structure. Problems within the race will inevitably arise as society advances. These include work and wages, families and homes, moral conduct, and sound judgment about what matters in life. Because of their isolation, Negroes must face and solve these and other inevitable problems of civilization largely for themselves. Can any solution be possible without study, thought, and a reliance on the rich experience of the past? For such a group, facing such a crisis, is there not infinitely more danger in inadequate training and shallow thinking? Is that danger not far greater than any danger from too much education and refinement? Surely we have enough sense to establish a Negro college with the staff and resources to avoid producing either the dilettante or the fool. We can hardly persuade black men that their minds matter little as long as their stomachs are full. They already faintly understand that peaceful paths linking honest work with dignified manhood require guidance from skilled thinkers. Those paths also require loving, respectful fellowship between humble black people and black men freed by education and culture.

The function of the Negro college, then, is clear: it must maintain the standards of popular education, it must seek the social regeneration of the Negro, and it must help in the solution of problems of race contact and cooperation. And finally, beyond all this, it must develop men. Above our modern socialism, and out of the worship of the mass, must persist and evolve that higher individualism which the centres of culture protect; there must come a loftier respect for the sovereign human soul that seeks to know itself and the world about it; that seeks a freedom for expansion and self-development; that will love and hate and labor in its own way, untrammeled alike by old and new. Such souls aforetime have inspired and guided worlds, and if we be not wholly bewitched by our Rhinegold, they shall again. Herein the longing of black men must have respect: the rich and bitter depth of their experience, the unknown treasures of their inner life, the strange rendings of nature they have seen, may give the world new points of view and make their loving, living, and doing precious to all human hearts. And to themselves in these the days that try their souls, the chance to soar in the dim blue air above the smoke is to their finer spirits boon and guerdon for what they lose on earth by being black.

The role of the Black college, then, is clear. It must uphold the standards of public education and work toward the social renewal of Black people. It must also help solve the problems of relations and cooperation between races. Finally, beyond all these tasks, it must develop men. Above our modern socialism and our worship of the masses, a higher individualism must survive and grow. Centers of culture protect this individualism. There must be a deeper respect for the independent human soul seeking to understand itself and the surrounding world. The soul seeks freedom to grow and develop. It seeks to love, hate, and work in its own way, unrestricted by either the old or the new. Such souls have inspired and guided worlds before. And if we are not completely under the spell of our Rhinegold, such souls will do so again. In this, the aspirations of Black men must be respected. Their experience has rich and bitter depths, and their inner lives hold unknown treasures. They have witnessed strange upheavals in nature. These experiences may give the world new perspectives. They may make Black people's love, lives, and work precious to all human hearts. And in these days that test their souls, Black people have a chance to soar above the smoke into the hazy blue air. For their more sensitive spirits, this chance is a blessing and reward for what they lose on earth by being Black.

I sit with Shakespeare and he winces not. Across the color line I move arm in arm with Balzac and Dumas, where smiling men and welcoming women glide in gilded halls. From out the caves of evening that swing between the strong-limbed earth and the tracery of the stars, I summon Aristotle and Aurelius and what soul I will, and they come all graciously with no scorn nor condescension. So, wed with Truth, I dwell above the Veil. Is this the life you grudge us, O knightly America? Is this the life you long to change into the dull red hideousness of Georgia? Are you so afraid lest peering from this high Pisgah, between Philistine and Amalekite, we sight the Promised Land?

I sit with Shakespeare, and he does not flinch. I cross the color line arm in arm with Balzac and Dumas. Together we enter gilded halls where smiling men and welcoming women glide. Evening’s caves hang between the earth’s strong limbs and the delicate patterns of the stars. From those caves I call Aristotle and Aurelius, and any soul I choose. They all come graciously, without scorn or condescension. So, joined with Truth, I live above the Veil. Is this the life you resent us having, noble America? Is this the life you long to turn into the dull red horror of Georgia? Are you so afraid that, looking out from this high Pisgah, between Philistine and Amalekite, we might see the Promised Land?