Up from Slavery: An Autobiography

A little later in the history of the school we had a visit from General J.F.B.  Marshall, the Treasurer of the Hampton Institute, who had had faith enough to lend us the first two hundred and fifty dollars with which to make a payment down on the farm.  He remained with us a week, and made a careful inspection of everything.  He seemed well pleased with our progress, and wrote back interesting and encouraging reports to Hampton.  A little later Miss Mary F. Mackie, the teacher who had given me the “sweeping” examination when I entered Hampton, came to see us, and still later General Armstrong himself came.

At the time of the visits of these Hampton friends the number of teachers at Tuskegee had increase considerably, and the most of the new teachers were graduates of the Hampton Institute.  We gave our Hampton friends, especially General Armstrong, a cordial welcome.  They were all surprised and pleased at the rapid progress that the school had made within so short a time.  The coloured people from miles around came to the school to get a look at General Armstrong, about whom they had heard so much.  The General was not only welcomed by the members of my own race, but by the Southern white people as well.

This first visit which General Armstrong made to Tuskegee gave me an opportunity to get an insight into his character such as I had not before had.  I refer to his interest in the Southern white people.  Before this I had had the thought that General Armstrong, having fought the Southern white man, rather cherished a feeling of bitterness toward the white South, and was interested in helping only the coloured man there.  But this visit convinced me that I did not know the greatness and the generosity of the man.  I soon learned, by his visits to the Southern white people, and from his conversations with them, that he was as anxious about the prosperity and the happiness of the white race as the black.  He cherished no bitterness against the South, and was happy when an opportunity offered for manifesting his sympathy.  In all my acquaintance with General Armstrong I never heard him speak, in public or in private, a single bitter word against the white man in the South.  From his example in this respect I learned the lesson that great men cultivate love, and that only little men cherish a spirit of hatred.  I learned that assistance given to the weak makes the one who gives it strong; and that oppression of the unfortunate makes one weak.

It is now long ago that I learned this lesson from General Armstrong, and resolved that I would permit no man, no matter what his colour might be, to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.  With God’s help, I believe that I have completely rid myself of any ill feeling toward the Southern white man for any wrong that he may have inflicted upon my race.  I am made to feel just as happy now when I am rendering service to Southern white men as when the service is rendered to a member of my own race.  I pity from the bottom of my heart any individual who is so unfortunate as to get into the habit of holding race prejudice.

The more I consider the subject, the more strongly I am convinced that the most harmful effect of the practice to which the people in certain sections of the South have felt themselves compelled to resort, in order to get rid of the force of the Negroes’ ballot, is not wholly in the wrong done to the Negro, but in the permanent injury to the morals of the white man.  The wrong to the Negro is temporary, but to the morals of the white man the injury is permanent.  I have noted time and time again that when an individual perjures himself in order to break the force of the black man’s ballot, he soon learns to practise dishonesty in other relations of life, not only where the Negro is concerned, but equally so where a white man is concerned.  The white man who begins by cheating a Negro usually ends by cheating a white man.  The white man who begins to break the law by lynching a Negro soon yields to the temptation to lynch a white man.  All this, it seems to me, makes it important that the whole Nation lend a hand in trying to lift the burden of ignorance from the South.

Another thing that is becoming more apparent each year in the development of education in the South is the influence of General Armstrong’s idea of education; and this not upon the blacks alone, but upon the whites also.  At the present time there is almost no Southern state that is not putting forth efforts in the direction of securing industrial education for its white boys and girls, and in most cases it is easy to trace the history of these efforts back to General Armstrong.

Soon after the opening of our humble boarding department students began coming to us in still larger numbers.  For weeks we not only had to contend with the difficulty of providing board, with no money, but also with that of providing sleeping accommodations.  For this purpose we rented a number of cabins near the school.  These cabins were in a dilapidated condition, and during the winter months the students who occupied them necessarily suffered from the cold.  We charge the students eight dollars a month—­all they were able to pay—­for their board.  This included, besides board, room, fuel, and washing.  We also gave the students credit on their board bills for all the work which they did for the school which was of any value to the institution.  The cost of tuition, which was fifty dollars a year for each student, we had to secure then, as now, wherever we could.

This small charge in cash gave us no capital with which to start a boarding department.  The weather during the second winter of our work was very cold.  We were not able to provide enough bed-clothes to keep the students warm.  In fact, for some time we were not able to provide, except in a few cases, bedsteads and mattresses of any kind.  During the coldest nights I was so troubled about the discomfort of the students that I could not sleep myself.  I recall that on several occasions I went in the middle of the night to the shanties occupied by the young men, for the purpose of confronting them.  Often I found some of them sitting huddled around a fire, with the one blanket which we had been able to provide wrapped around them, trying in this way to keep warm.  During the whole night some of them did not attempt to lie down.  One morning, when the night previous had been unusually cold, I asked those of the students in the chapel who thought that they had been frostbitten during the night to raise their hands.  Three hands went up.  Notwithstanding these experiences, there was almost no complaining on the part of the students.  They knew that we were doing the best that we could for them.  They were happy in the privilege of being permitted to enjoy any kind of opportunity that would enable them to improve their condition.  They were constantly asking what they might do to lighten the burdens of the teachers.

I have heard it stated more than once, both in the North and in the South, that coloured people would not obey and respect each other when one member of the race is placed in a position of authority over others.  In regard to this general belief and these statements, I can say that during the nineteen years of my experience at Tuskegee I never, either by word or act, have been treated with disrespect by any student or officer connected with the institution.  On the other hand, I am constantly embarrassed by the many acts of thoughtful kindness.  The students do not seem to want to see me carry a large book or a satchel or any kind of a burden through the grounds.  In such cases more than one always offers to relieve me.  I almost never go out of my office when the rain is falling that some student does not come to my side with an umbrella and ask to be allowed to hold it over me.

While writing upon this subject, it is a pleasure for me to add that in all my contact with the white people of the South I have never received a single personal insult.  The white people in and near Tuskegee, to an especial degree, seem to count it as a privilege to show me all the respect within their power, and often go out of their way to do this.

Not very long ago I was making a journey between Dallas (Texas) and Houston.  In some way it became known in advance that I was on the train.  At nearly every station at which the train stopped, numbers of white people, including in most cases of the officials of the town, came aboard and introduced themselves and thanked me heartily for the work that I was trying to do for the South.

On another occasion, when I was making a trip from Augusta, Georgia, to Atlanta, being rather tired from much travel, I road in a Pullman sleeper.  When I went into the car, I found there two ladies from Boston whom I knew well.  These good ladies were perfectly ignorant, it seems, of the customs of the South, and in the goodness of their hearts insisted that I take a seat with them in their section.  After some hesitation I consented.  I had been there but a few minutes when one of them, without my knowledge, ordered supper to be served for the three of us.  This embarrassed me still further.  The car was full of Southern white men, most of whom had their eyes on our party.  When I found that supper had been ordered, I tried to contrive some excuse that would permit me to leave the section, but the ladies insisted that I must eat with them.  I finally settled back in my seat with a sigh, and said to myself, “I am in for it now, sure.”

To add further to the embarrassment of the situation, soon after the supper was placed on the table one of the ladies remembered that she had in her satchel a special kind of tea which she wished served, and as she said she felt quite sure the porter did not know how to brew it properly, she insisted upon getting up and preparing and serving it herself.  At last the meal was over; and it seemed the longest one that I had ever eaten.  When we were through, I decided to get myself out of the embarrassing situation and go to the smoking-room, where most of the men were by that time, to see how the land lay.  In the meantime, however, it had become known in some way throughout the car who I was.  When I went into the smoking-room I was never more surprised in my life than when each man, nearly every one of them a citizen of Georgia, came up and introduced himself to me and thanked me earnestly for the work that I was trying to do for the whole South.  This was not flattery, because each one of these individuals knew that he had nothing to gain by trying to flatter me.

From the first I have sought to impress the students with the idea that Tuskegee is not my institution, or that of the officers, but that it is their institution, and that they have as much interest in it as any of the trustees or instructors.  I have further sought to have them feel that I am at the institution as their friend and adviser, and not as their overseer.  It has been my aim to have them speak with directness and frankness about anything that concerns the life of the school.  Two or three times a year I ask the students to write me a letter criticising or making complaints or suggestions about anything connected with the institution.  When this is not done, I have them meet me in the chapel for a heart-to-heart talk about the conduct of the school.  There are no meetings with our students that I enjoy more than these, and none are more helpful to me in planning for the future.  These meetings, it seems to me, enable me to get at the very heart of all that concerns the school.  Few things help an individual more than to place responsibility upon him, and to let him know that you trust him.  When I have read of labour troubles between employers and employees, I have often thought that many strikes and similar disturbances might be avoided if the employers would cultivate the habit of getting nearer to their employees, of consulting and advising with them, and letting them feel that the interests of the two are the same.  Every individual responds to confidence, and this is not more true of any race than of the Negroes.  Let them once understand that you are unselfishly interested in them, and you can lead them to any extent.

It was my aim from the first at Tuskegee to not only have the buildings erected by the students themselves, but to have them make their own furniture as far as was possible.  I now marvel at the patience of the students while sleeping upon the floor while waiting for some kind of a bedstead to be constructed, or at their sleeping without any kind of a mattress while waiting for something that looked like a mattress to be made.

In the early days we had very few students who had been used to handling carpenters’ tools, and the bedsteads made by the students then were very rough and very weak.  Not unfrequently when I went into the students’ rooms in the morning I would find at least two bedsteads lying about on the floor.  The problem of providing mattresses was a difficult one to solve.  We finally mastered this, however, by getting some cheap cloth and sewing pieces of this together as to make large bags.  These bags we filled with the pine straw—­or, as it is sometimes called, pine needles—­which we secured from the forests near by.  I am glad to say that the industry of mattress-making has grown steadily since then, and has been improved to such an extent that at the present time it is an important branch of the work which is taught systematically to a number of our girls, and that the mattresses that now come out of the mattress-shop at Tuskegee are about as good as those bought in the average store.  For some time after the opening of the boarding department we had no chairs in the students’ bedrooms or in the dining rooms.  Instead of chairs we used stools which the students constructed by nailing together three pieces of rough board.  As a rule, the furniture in the students’ rooms during the early days of the school consisted of a bed, some stools, and sometimes a rough table made by the students.  The plan of having the students make the furniture is still followed, but the number of pieces in a room has been increased, and the workmanship has so improved that little fault can be found with the articles now.  One thing that I have always insisted upon at Tuskegee is that everywhere there should be absolute cleanliness.  Over and over again the students were reminded in those first years—­and are reminded now—­that people would excuse us for our poverty, for our lack of comforts and conveniences, but that they would not excuse us for dirt.

Another thing that has been insisted upon at the school is the use of the tooth-brush.  “The gospel of the tooth-brush,” as General Armstrong used to call it, is part of our creed at Tuskegee.  No student is permitted to retain who does not keep and use a tooth-brush.  Several times, in recent years, students have come to us who brought with them almost no other article except a tooth-brush.  They had heard from the lips of other students about our insisting upon the use of this, and so, to make a good impression, they brought at least a tooth-brush with them.  I remember that one morning, not long ago, I went with the lady principal on her usual morning tour of inspection of the girls’ rooms.  We found one room that contained three girls who had recently arrived at the school.  When I asked them if they had tooth-brushes, one of the girls replied, pointing to a brush:  “Yes, sir.  That is our brush.  We bought it together, yesterday.”  It did not take them long to learn a different lesson.

It has been interesting to note the effect that the use of the tooth-brush has had in bringing about a higher degree of civilization among the students.  With few exceptions, I have noticed that, if we can get a student to the point where, when the first or second tooth-brush disappears, he of his own motion buys another, I have not been disappointed in the future of that individual.  Absolute cleanliness of the body has been insisted upon from the first.  The students have been taught to bathe as regularly as to take their meals.  This lesson we began teaching before we had anything in the shape of a bath-house.  Most of the students came from plantation districts, and often we had to teach them how to sleep at night; that is, whether between the two sheets—­after we got to the point where we could provide them two sheets—­or under both of them.  Naturally I found it difficult to teach them to sleep between two sheets when we were able to supply but one.  The importance of the use of the night-gown received the same attention.

For a long time one of the most difficult tasks was to teach the students that all the buttons were to be kept on their clothes, and that there must be no torn places or grease-spots.  This lesson, I am pleased to be able to say, has been so thoroughly learned and so faithfully handed down from year to year by one set of students to another that often at the present time, when the students march out of the chapel in the evening and their dress is inspected, as it is every night, not one button is found to be missing.