Up from Slavery: An Autobiography

Before going to Europe some events came into my life which were great surprises to me.  In fact, my whole life has largely been one of surprises.  I believe that any man’s life will be filled with constant, unexpected encouragements of this kind if he makes up his mind to do his level best each day of his life—­that is, tries to make each day reach as nearly as possible the high-water mark of pure, unselfish, useful living.  I pity the man, black or white, who has never experienced the joy and satisfaction that come to one by reason of an effort to assist in making some one else more useful and more happy.

Six months before he died, and nearly a year after he had been stricken with paralysis, General Armstrong expressed a wish to visit Tuskegee again before he passed away.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had lost the use of his limbs to such an extent that he was practically helpless, his wish was gratified, and he was brought to Tuskegee.  The owners of the Tuskegee Railroad, white men living in the town, offered to run a special train, without cost, out of the main station—­Chehaw, five miles away—­to meet him.  He arrived on the school grounds about nine o’clock in the evening.  Some one had suggested that we give the General a “pine-knot torchlight reception.”  This plan was carried out, and the moment that his carriage entered the school grounds he began passing between two lines of lighted and waving “fat pine” wood knots held by over a thousand students and teachers.  The whole thing was so novel and surprising that the General was completely overcome with happiness.  He remained a guest in my home for nearly two months, and, although almost wholly without the use of voice or limb, he spent nearly every hour in devising ways and means to help the South.  Time and time again he said to me, during this visit, that it was not only the duty of the country to assist in elevating the Negro of the South, but the poor white man as well.  At the end of his visit I resolved anew to devote myself more earnestly than ever to the cause which was so near his heart.  I said that if a man in his condition was willing to think, work, and act, I should not be wanting in furthering in every possible way the wish of his heart.

The death of General Armstrong, a few weeks later, gave me the privilege of getting acquainted with one of the finest, most unselfish, and most attractive men that I have ever come in contact with.  I refer to the Rev. Dr. Hollis B. Frissell, now the Principal of the Hampton Institute, and General Armstrong’s successor.  Under the clear, strong, and almost perfect leadership of Dr. Frissell, Hampton has had a career of prosperity and usefulness that is all that the General could have wished for.  It seems to be the constant effort of Dr. Frissell to hide his own great personality behind that of General Armstrong—­to make himself of “no reputation” for the sake of the cause.

More than once I have been asked what was the greatest surprise that ever came to me.  I have little hesitation in answering that question.  It was the following letter, which came to me one Sunday morning when I was sitting on the veranda of my home at Tuskegee, surrounded by my wife and three children:—­

Harvard University, Cambridge, May 28, 1896.

President Booker T. Washington,

My Dear Sir:  Harvard University desired to confer on you at the approaching Commencement an honorary degree; but it is our custom to confer degrees only on gentlemen who are present.  Our Commencement occurs this year on June 24, and your presence would be desirable from about noon till about five o’clock in the afternoon.  Would it be possible for you to be in Cambridge on that day?

Believe me, with great regard,

Very truly yours,

Charles W. Eliot.

This was a recognition that had never in the slightest manner entered into my mind, and it was hard for me to realize that I was to be honoured by a degree from the oldest and most renowned university in America.  As I sat upon my veranda, with this letter in my hand, tears came into my eyes.  My whole former life—­my life as a slave on the plantation, my work in the coal-mine, the times when I was without food and clothing, when I made my bed under a sidewalk, my struggles for an education, the trying days I had had at Tuskegee, days when I did not know where to turn for a dollar to continue the work there, the ostracism and sometimes oppression of my race,—­all this passed before me and nearly overcame me.

I had never sought or cared for what the world calls fame.  I have always looked upon fame as something to be used in accomplishing good.  I have often said to my friends that if I can use whatever prominence may have come to me as an instrument with which to do good, I am content to have it.  I care for it only as a means to be used for doing good, just as wealth may be used.  The more I come into contact with wealthy people, the more I believe that they are growing in the direction of looking upon their money simply as an instrument which God has placed in their hand for doing good with.  I never go to the office of Mr. John D. Rockefeller, who more than once has been generous to Tuskegee, without being reminded of this.  The close, careful, and minute investigation that he always makes in order to be sure that every dollar that he gives will do the most good—­an investigation that is just as searching as if he were investing money in a business enterprise—­convinces me that the growth in this direction is most encouraging.

At nine o’clock, on the morning of June 24, I met President Eliot, the Board of Overseers of Harvard University, and the other guests, at the designated place on the university grounds, for the purpose of being escorted to Sanders Theatre, where the Commencement exercises were to be held and degrees conferred.  Among others invited to be present for the purpose of receiving a degree at this time were General Nelson A. Miles, Dr. Bell, the inventor of the Bell telephone, Bishop Vincent, and the Rev. Minot J. Savage.  We were placed in line immediately behind the President and the Board of Overseers, and directly afterward the Governor of Massachusetts, escorted by the Lancers, arrived and took his place in the line of march by the side of President Eliot.  In the line there were also various other officers and professors, clad in cap and gown.  In this order we marched to Sanders Theatre, where, after the usual Commencement exercises, came the conferring of the honorary degrees.  This, it seems, is always considered the most interesting feature at Harvard.  It is not known, until the individuals appear, upon whom the honorary degrees are to be conferred, and those receiving these honours are cheered by the students and others in proportion to their popularity.  During the conferring of the degrees excitement and enthusiasm are at the highest pitch.

When my name was called, I rose, and President Eliot, in beautiful and strong English, conferred upon me the degree of Master of Arts.  After these exercises were over, those who had received honorary degrees were invited to lunch with the President.  After the lunch we were formed in line again, and were escorted by the Marshal of the day, who that year happened to be Bishop William Lawrence, through the grounds, where, at different points, those who had been honoured were called by name and received the Harvard yell.  This march ended at Memorial Hall, where the alumni dinner was served.  To see over a thousand strong men, representing all that is best in State, Church, business, and education, with the glow and enthusiasm of college loyalty and college pride,—­which has, I think, a peculiar Harvard flavour,—­is a sight that does not easily fade from memory.

Among the speakers after dinner were President Eliot, Governor Roger Wolcott, General Miles, Dr. Minot J. Savage, the Hon. Henry Cabot Lodge, and myself.  When I was called upon, I said, among other things:—­

It would in some measure relieve my embarrassment if I could, even in a slight degree, feel myself worthy of the great honour which you do me to-day.  Why you have called me from the Black Belt of the South, from among my humble people, to share in the honours of this occasion, is not for me to explain; and yet it may not be inappropriate for me to suggest that it seems to me that one of the most vital questions that touch our American life is how to bring the strong, wealthy, and learned into helpful touch with the poorest, most ignorant, and humblest, and at the same time make one appreciate the vitalizing, strengthening influence of the other.  How shall we make the mansion on yon Beacon Street feel and see the need of the spirits in the lowliest cabin in Alabama cotton-fields or Louisiana sugar-bottoms?  This problem Harvard University is solving, not by bringing itself down, but by bringing the masses up.

* * * * * * *

If my life in the past has meant anything in the lifting up of my people and the bringing about of better relations between your race and mine, I assure you from this day it will mean doubly more.  In the economy of God there is but one standard by which an individual can succeed—­there is but one for a race.  This country demands that every race shall measure itself by the American standard.  By it a race must rise or fall, succeed or fail, and in the last analysis mere sentiment counts for little.

During the next half-century and more, my race must continue passing through the severe American crucible.  We are to be tested in our patience, our forbearance, our perseverance, our power to endure wrong, to withstand temptations, to economize, to acquire and use skill; in our ability to compete, to succeed in commerce, to disregard the superficial for the real, the appearance for the substance, to be great and yet small, learned and yet simple, high and yet the servant of all.

As this was the first time that a New England university had conferred an honorary degree upon a Negro, it was the occasion of much newspaper comment throughout the country.  A correspondent of a New York Paper said:—­

When the name of Booker T. Washington was called, and he arose to acknowledge and accept, there was such an outburst of applause as greeted no other name except that of the popular soldier patriot, General Miles.  The applause was not studied and stiff, sympathetic and condoling; it was enthusiasm and admiration.  Every part of the audience from pit to gallery joined in, and a glow covered the cheeks of those around me, proving sincere appreciation of the rising struggle of an ex-slave and the work he has accomplished for his race.

A Boston paper said, editorially:—­

In conferring the honorary degree of Master of Arts upon the Principal of Tuskegee Institute, Harvard University has honoured itself as well as the object of this distinction.  The work which Professor Booker T. Washington has accomplished for the education, good citizenship, and popular enlightenment in his chosen field of labour in the South entitles him to rank with our national benefactors.  The university which can claim him on its list of sons, whether in regular course or honoris causa, may be proud.

It has been mentioned that Mr. Washington is the first of his race to receive an honorary degree from a New England university.  This, in itself, is a distinction.  But the degree was not conferred because Mr. Washington is a coloured man, or because he was born in slavery, but because he has shown, by his work for the elevation of the people of the Black Belt of the South, a genius and a broad humanity which count for greatness in any man, whether his skin be white or black.

Another Boston paper said:—­

It is Harvard which, first among New England colleges, confers an honorary degree upon a black man.  No one who has followed the history of Tuskegee and its work can fail to admire the courage, persistence, and splendid common sense of Booker T. Washington.

Well may Harvard honour the ex-slave, the value of whose services, alike to his race and country, only the future can estimate.

The correspondent of the New York Times wrote:—­

All the speeches were enthusiastically received, but the coloured man carried off the oratorical honours, and the applause which broke out when he had finished was vociferous and long-continued.

Soon after I began work at Tuskegee I formed a resolution, in the secret of my heart, that I would try to build up a school that would be of so much service to the country that the President of the United States would one day come to see it.  This was, I confess, rather a bold resolution, and for a number of years I kept it hidden in my own thoughts, not daring to share it with any one.

In November, 1897, I made the first move in this direction, and that was in securing a visit from a member of President McKinley’s Cabinet, the Hon. James Wilson, Secretary of Agriculture.  He came to deliver an address at the formal opening of the Slater-Armstrong Agricultural Building, our first large building to be used for the purpose of giving training to our students in agriculture and kindred branches.

In the fall of 1898 I heard that President McKinley was likely to visit Atlanta, Georgia, for the purpose of taking part in the Peace Jubilee exercises to be held there to commemorate the successful close of the Spanish-American war.  At this time I had been hard at work, together with our teachers, for eighteen years, trying to build up a school that we thought would be of service to the Nation, and I determined to make a direct effort to secure a visit from the President and his Cabinet.  I went to Washington, and I was not long in the city before I found my way to the White House.  When I got there I found the waiting rooms full of people, and my heart began to sink, for I feared there would not be much chance of my seeing the President that day, if at all.  But, at any rate, I got an opportunity to see Mr. J. Addison Porter, the secretary to the President, and explained to him my mission.  Mr. Porter kindly sent my card directly to the President, and in a few minutes word came from Mr. McKinley that he would see me.

How any man can see so many people of all kinds, with all kinds of errands, and do so much hard work, and still keep himself calm, patient, and fresh for each visitor in the way that President McKinley does, I cannot understand.  When I saw the President he kindly thanked me for the work which we were doing at Tuskegee for the interests of the country.  I then told him, briefly, the object of my visit.  I impressed upon him the fact that a visit from the Chief Executive of the Nation would not only encourage our students and teachers, but would help the entire race.  He seemed interested, but did not make a promise to go to Tuskegee, for the reason that his plans about going to Atlanta were not then fully made; but he asked me to call the matter to his attention a few weeks later.

By the middle of the following month the President had definitely decided to attend the Peace Jubilee at Atlanta.  I went to Washington again and saw him, with a view of getting him to extend his trip to Tuskegee.  On this second visit Mr. Charles W. Hare, a prominent white citizen of Tuskegee, kindly volunteered to accompany me, to reenforce my invitation with one from the white people of Tuskegee and the vicinity.

Just previous to my going to Washington the second time, the country had been excited, and the coloured people greatly depressed, because of several severe race riots which had occurred at different points in the South.  As soon as I saw the President, I perceived that his heart was greatly burdened by reason of these race disturbances.  Although there were many people waiting to see him, he detained me for some time, discussing the condition and prospects of the race.  He remarked several times that he was determined to show his interest and faith in the race, not merely in words, but by acts.  When I told him that I thought that at that time scarcely anything would go father in giving hope and encouragement to the race than the fact that the President of the Nation would be willing to travel one hundred and forty miles out of his way to spend a day at a Negro institution, he seemed deeply impressed.

While I was with the President, a white citizen of Atlanta, a Democrat and an ex-slaveholder, came into the room, and the President asked his opinion as to the wisdom of his going to Tuskegee.  Without hesitation the Atlanta man replied that it was the proper thing for him to do.  This opinion was reenforced by that friend of the race, Dr. J.L.M.  Curry.  The President promised that he would visit our school on the 16th of December.

When it became known that the President was going to visit our school, the white citizens of the town of Tuskegee—­a mile distant from the school—­were as much pleased as were our students and teachers.  The white people of this town, including both men and women, began arranging to decorate the town, and to form themselves into committees for the purpose of cooperating with the officers of our school in order that the distinguished visitor might have a fitting reception.  I think I never realized before this how much the white people of Tuskegee and vicinity thought of our institution.  During the days when we were preparing for the President’s reception, dozens of these people came to me and said that, while they did not want to push themselves into prominence, if there was anything they could do to help, or to relieve me personally, I had but to intimate it and they would be only too glad to assist.  In fact, the thing that touched me almost as deeply as the visit of the President itself was the deep pride which all classes of citizens in Alabama seemed to take in our work.

The morning of December 16th brought to the little city of Tuskegee such a crowd as it had never seen before.  With the President came Mrs. McKinley and all of the Cabinet officers but one; and most of them brought their wives or some members of their families.  Several prominent generals came, including General Shafter and General Joseph Wheeler, who were recently returned from the Spanish-American war.  There was also a host of newspaper correspondents.  The Alabama Legislature was in session in Montgomery at this time.  This body passed a resolution to adjourn for the purpose of visited Tuskegee.  Just before the arrival of the President’s party the Legislature arrived, headed by the governor and other state officials.

The citizens of Tuskegee had decorated the town from the station to the school in a generous manner.  In order to economize in the matter of time, we arranged to have the whole school pass in review before the President.  Each student carried a stalk of sugar-cane with some open bolls of cotton fastened to the end of it.  Following the students the work of all departments of the school passed in review, displayed on “floats” drawn by horses, mules, and oxen.  On these floats we tried to exhibit not only the present work of the school, but to show the contrasts between the old methods of doing things and the new.  As an example, we showed the old method of dairying in contrast with the improved methods, the old methods of tilling the soil in contrast with the new, the old methods of cooking and housekeeping in contrast with the new.  These floats consumed an hour and a half of time in passing.

In his address in our large, new chapel, which the students had recently completed, the President said, among other things:—­

To meet you under such pleasant auspices and to have the opportunity of a personal observation of your work is indeed most gratifying.  The Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute is ideal in its conception, and has already a large and growing reputation in the country, and is not unknown abroad.  I congratulate all who are associated in this undertaking for the good work which it is doing in the education of its students to lead lives of honour and usefulness, thus exalting the race for which it was established.

Nowhere, I think, could a more delightful location have been chosen for this unique educational experiment, which has attracted the attention and won the support even of conservative philanthropists in all sections of the country.

To speak of Tuskegee without paying special tribute to Booker T. Washington’s genius and perseverance would be impossible.  The inception of this noble enterprise was his, and he deserves high credit for it.  His was the enthusiasm and enterprise which made its steady progress possible and established in the institution its present high standard of accomplishment.  He has won a worthy reputation as one of the great leaders of his race, widely known and much respected at home and abroad as an accomplished educator, a great orator, and a true philanthropist.

The Hon. John D. Long, the Secretary of the Navy, said in part:—­

I cannot make a speech to-day.  My heart is too full—­full of hope, admiration, and pride for my countrymen of both sections and both colours.  I am filled with gratitude and admiration for your work, and from this time forward I shall have absolute confidence in your progress and in the solution of the problem in which you are engaged.

The problem, I say, has been solved.  A picture has been presented to-day which should be put upon canvas with the pictures of Washington and Lincoln, and transmitted to future time and generations—­a picture which the press of the country should spread broadcast over the land, a most dramatic picture, and that picture is this:  The President of the United States standing on this platform; on one side the Governor of Alabama, on the other, completing the trinity, a representative of a race only a few years ago in bondage, the coloured President of the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute.

God bless the President under whose majesty such a scene as that is presented to the American people.  God bless the state of Alabama, which is showing that it can deal with this problem for itself.  God bless the orator, philanthropist, and disciple of the Great Master—­who, if he were on earth, would be doing the same work—­Booker T. Washington.

Postmaster General Smith closed the address which he made with these words:—­

We have witnessed many spectacles within the last few days.  We have seen the magnificent grandeur and the magnificent achievements of one of the great metropolitan cities of the South.  We have seen heroes of the war pass by in procession.  We have seen floral parades.  But I am sure my colleagues will agree with me in saying that we have witnessed no spectacle more impressive and more encouraging, more inspiring for our future, than that which we have witnessed here this morning.

Some days after the President returned to Washington I received the letter which follows:—­

Executive Mansion, Washington, Dec. 23, 1899.

Dear Sir:  By this mail I take pleasure in sending you engrossed copies of the souvenir of the visit of the President to your institution.  These sheets bear the autographs of the President and the members of the Cabinet who accompanied him on the trip.  Let me take this opportunity of congratulating you most heartily and sincerely upon the great success of the exercises provided for and entertainment furnished us under your auspices during our visit to Tuskegee.  Every feature of the programme was perfectly executed and was viewed or participated in with the heartiest satisfaction by every visitor present.  The unique exhibition which you gave of your pupils engaged in their industrial vocations was not only artistic but thoroughly impressive.  The tribute paid by the President and his Cabinet to your work was none too high, and forms a most encouraging augury, I think, for the future prosperity of your institution.  I cannot close without assuring you that the modesty shown by yourself in the exercises was most favourably commented upon by all the members of our party.

With best wishes for the continued advance of your most useful and patriotic undertaking, kind personal regards, and the compliments of the season, believe me, always,

Very sincerely yours,

John Addison Porter,

Secretary to the President.

To President Booker T. Washington, Tuskegee Normal and Industrial
Institute, Tuskegee, Ala.

Twenty years have now passed since I made the first humble effort at Tuskegee, in a broken-down shanty and an old hen-house, without owning a dollar’s worth of property, and with but one teacher and thirty students.  At the present time the institution owns twenty-three hundred acres of land, one thousand of which are under cultivation each year, entirely by student labour.  There are now upon the grounds, counting large and small, sixty-six buildings; and all except four of these have been almost wholly erected by the labour of our students.  While the students are at work upon the land and in erecting buildings, they are taught, by competent instructors, the latest methods of agriculture and the trades connected with building.

There are in constant operation at the school, in connection with thorough academic and religious training, thirty industrial departments.  All of these teach industries at which our men and women can find immediate employment as soon as they leave the institution.  The only difficulty now is that the demand for our graduates from both white and black people in the South is so great that we cannot supply more than one-half the persons for whom applications come to us.  Neither have we the buildings nor the money for current expenses to enable us to admit to the school more than one-half the young men and women who apply to us for admission.

In our industrial teaching we keep three things in mind:  first, that the student shall be so educated that he shall be enabled to meet conditions as they exist now, in the part of the South where he lives—­in a word, to be able to do the thing which the world wants done; second, that every student who graduates from the school shall have enough skill, coupled with intelligence and moral character, to enable him to make a living for himself and others; third, to send every graduate out feeling and knowing that labour is dignified and beautiful—­to make each one love labour instead of trying to escape it.  In addition to the agricultural training which we give to young men, and the training given to our girls in all the usual domestic employments, we now train a number of girls in agriculture each year.  These girls are taught gardening, fruit-growing, dairying, bee-culture, and poultry-raising.

While the institution is in no sense denominational, we have a department known as the Phelps Hall Bible Training School, in which a number of students are prepared for the ministry and other forms of Christian work, especially work in the country districts.  What is equally important, each one of the students works . . . each day at some industry, in order to get skill and the love of work, so that when he goes out from the institution he is prepared to set the people with whom he goes to labour a proper example in the matter of industry.

The value of our property is now over $700,000.  If we add to this our endowment fund, which at present is $1,000,000, the value of the total property is now $1,700,000.  Aside from the need for more buildings and for money for current expenses, the endowment fund should be increased to at least $3,000,000.  The annual current expenses are now about $150,000.  The greater part of this I collect each year by going from door to door and from house to house.  All of our property is free from mortgage, and is deeded to an undenominational board of trustees who have the control of the institution.

From thirty students the number has grown to fourteen hundred, coming from twenty-seven states and territories, from Africa, Cuba, Porto Rico, Jamaica, and other foreign countries.  In our departments there are one hundred and ten officers and instructors; and if we add the families of our instructors, we have a constant population upon our grounds of not far from seventeen hundred people.

I have often been asked how we keep so large a body of people together, and at the same time keep them out of mischief.  There are two answers:  that the men and women who come to us for an education are in earnest; and that everybody is kept busy.  The following outline of our daily work will testify to this:—­

5 a.m., rising bell; 5.50 a.m., warning breakfast bell; 6 a.m., breakfast bell; 6.20 a.m., breakfast over; 6.20 to 6.50 a.m., rooms are cleaned; 6.50, work bell; 7.30, morning study hours; 8.20, morning school bell; 8.25, inspection of young men’s toilet in ranks; 8.40, devotional exercises in chapel; 8.55, “five minutes with the daily news;” 9 a.m., class work begins; 12, class work closes; 12.15 p.m., dinner; 1 p.m., work bell; 1.30 p.m., class work begins; 3.30 p.m., class work ends; 5.30 p.m., bell to “knock off” work; 6 p.m., supper; 7.10 p.m., evening prayers; 7.30 p.m., evening study hours; 8.45 p.m., evening study hour closes; 9.20 p.m., warning retiring bell; 9.30 p.m., retiring bell.

We try to keep constantly in mind the fact that the worth of the school is to be judged by its graduates.  Counting those who have finished the full course, together with those who have taken enough training to enable them to do reasonably good work, we can safely say that at least six thousand men and women from Tuskegee are now at work in different parts of the South; men and women who, by their own example or by direct efforts, are showing the masses of our race now to improve their material, educational, and moral and religious life.  What is equally important, they are exhibiting a degree of common sense and self-control which is causing better relations to exist between the races, and is causing the Southern white man to learn to believe in the value of educating the men and women of my race.  Aside from this, there is the influence that is constantly being exerted through the mothers’ meeting and the plantation work conducted by Mrs. Washington.

Wherever our graduates go, the changes which soon begin to appear in the buying of land, improving homes, saving money, in education, and in high moral characters are remarkable.  Whole communities are fast being revolutionized through the instrumentality of these men and women.

Ten years ago I organized at Tuskegee the first Negro Conference.  This is an annual gathering which now brings to the school eight or nine hundred representative men and women of the race, who come to spend a day in finding out what the actual industrial, mental, and moral conditions of the people are, and in forming plans for improvement.  Out from this central Negro Conference at Tuskegee have grown numerous state an local conferences which are doing the same kind of work.  As a result of the influence of these gatherings, one delegate reported at the last annual meeting that ten families in his community had bought and paid for homes.  On the day following the annual Negro Conference, there is the “Workers’ Conference.”  This is composed of officers and teachers who are engaged in educational work in the larger institutions in the South.  The Negro Conference furnishes a rare opportunity for these workers to study the real condition of the rank and file of the people.

In the summer of 1900, with the assistance of such prominent coloured men as Mr. T. Thomas Fortune, who has always upheld my hands in every effort, I organized the National Negro Business League, which held its first meeting in Boston, and brought together for the first time a large number of the coloured men who are engaged in various lines of trade or business in different parts of the United States.  Thirty states were represented at our first meeting.  Out of this national meeting grew state and local business leagues.

In addition to looking after the executive side of the work at Tuskegee, and raising the greater part of the money for the support of the school, I cannot seem to escape the duty of answering at least a part of the calls which come to me unsought to address Southern white audiences and audiences of my own race, as well as frequent gatherings in the North.  As to how much of my time is spent in this way, the following clipping from a Buffalo (N.Y.) paper will tell.  This has reference to an occasion when I spoke before the National Educational Association in that city.

Booker T. Washington, the foremost educator among the coloured people of the world, was a very busy man from the time he arrived in the city the other night from the West and registered at the Iroquois.  He had hardly removed the stains of travel when it was time to partake of supper.  Then he held a public levee in the parlours of the Iroquois until eight o’clock.  During that time he was greeted by over two hundred eminent teachers and educators from all parts of the United States.  Shortly after eight o’clock he was driven in a carriage to Music Hall, and in one hour and a half he made two ringing addresses, to as many as five thousand people, on Negro education.  Then Mr. Washington was taken in charge by a delegation of coloured citizens, headed by the Rev. Mr. Watkins, and hustled off to a small informal reception, arranged in honour of the visitor by the people of his race.

Nor can I, in addition to making these addresses, escape the duty of calling the attention of the South and of the country in general, through the medium of the press, to matters that pertain to the interests of both races.  This, for example, I have done in regard to the evil habit of lynching.  When the Louisiana State Constitutional Convention was in session, I wrote an open letter to that body pleading for justice for the race.  In all such efforts I have received warm and hearty support from the Southern newspapers, as well as from those in all other parts of the country.

Despite superficial and temporary signs which might lead one to entertain a contrary opinion, there was never a time when I felt more hopeful for the race than I do at the present.  The great human law that in the end recognizes and rewards merit is everlasting and universal.  The outside world does not know, neither can it appreciate, the struggle that is constantly going on in the hearts of both the Southern white people and their former slaves to free themselves from racial prejudice; and while both races are thus struggling they should have the sympathy, the support, and the forbearance of the rest of the world.

As I write the closing words of this autobiography I find myself—­not by design—­in the city of Richmond, Virginia:  the city which only a few decades ago was the capital of the Southern Confederacy, and where, about twenty-five years ago, because of my poverty I slept night after night under a sidewalk.

This time I am in Richmond as the guest of the coloured people of the city; and came at their request to deliver an address last night to both races in the Academy of Music, the largest and finest audience room in the city.  This was the first time that the coloured people had ever been permitted to use this hall.  The day before I came, the City Council passed a vote to attend the meeting in a body to hear me speak.  The state Legislature, including the House of Delegates and the Senate, also passed a unanimous vote to attend in a body.  In the presence of hundreds of coloured people, many distinguished white citizens, the City Council, the state Legislature, and state officials, I delivered my message, which was one of hope and cheer; and from the bottom of my heart I thanked both races for this welcome back to the state that gave me birth.