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Chapter 6 from The book The Souls of Black Folk by W. E. B. Du Bois is in the public domain in the United States. UMGC has modified this work.

VI

Of the Training of Black Men

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,

And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,

Were't not a Shame—were't not a Shame for him

In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

OMAR KHAYYAM (FITZGERALD).

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"The experiment that has been made to give the colored students classical training has not been

satisfactory. Even though many were able to pursue the course, most of them did so in a parrot-

like way, learning what was taught, but not seeming to appropriate the truth and import of their

instruction, and graduating without sensible aim or valuable occupation for their future. The

whole scheme has proved a waste of time, efforts, and the money of the state."

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.

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?

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,—

"GRATEFUL MEMORY OF THEIR FORMER TEACHER

AND FRIEND AND OF THE UNSELFISH LIFE HE LIVED,

AND THE NOBLE WORK HE WROUGHT; THAT THEY,

THEIR CHILDREN, AND THEIR CHILDREN'S CHILDREN

MIGHT BE BLESSED."

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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?