UP FROM
SLAVERY: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
by Booker
T. Washington
PREFACE
This
volume is the outgrowth of a series of articles, dealing with incidents in my life, which were published
consecutively in the Outlook. While they were appearing in that magazine I
was constantly surprised at the number of requests which came to me from all
parts of the country, asking that the articles be permanently preserved in book form. I am most grateful to the Outlook for permission
to gratify these requests.
I have
tried to tell a simple, straightforward story, with no attempt at embellishment. My regret is that what I have attempted
to do has been done so imperfectly. The greater part of my time and strength is
required for the executive work connected with the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, and
in securing the money necessary for the
support of the institution. Much of what
I have said has been written on board trains, or at hotels or railroad stations while I have been waiting for
trains, or during the moments that I
could spare from my work while at
CHAPTER I
A SLAVE AMONG SLAVES
I WAS born a slave on a plantation in
My life had its beginning in the midst of the most
miserable, desolate, and discouraging
surroundings. This was so, however,
not because my owners were especially
cruel, for they were not, as compared
with many others. I was born in a
typical log cabin, about fourteen by
sixteen feet square. In this cabin I
lived with my mother and a brother and
sister till after the Civil War, when we were all declared free.
Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and even later, I heard whispered conversations
among the coloured people of the tortures
which the slaves, including, no doubt, my ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle
passage of the slave ship while being
conveyed from
The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used
as the kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook. The
cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the side which let in the light, and also the cold,
chilly air of winter. There was a door
to the cabin - that is, something that was called a door - but the uncertain hinges by which it
was hung, and the large cracks in it, to
say nothing of the fact that it was too small, made the room a very uncomfortable one. In addition to these openings there was, in the lower right-hand corner of
the room, the "cat-hole," - a contrivance which almost every mansion
or cabin in
The early years of my life, which were spent in the little
cabin, were not very different from
those of thousands of other slaves.
My mother, of course, had little
time in which to give attention to the
training of her children during the day.
She snatched a few moments for
our care in the early morning before her work began, and at night after the day's work was done. One of my earliest recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken late at
night, and awakening her children for
the purpose of feeding them. How or
where she got it I do not know. I presume, however, it was procured from our
owner's farm. Some people may call this theft. If such a thing were to happen now, I should condemn it as theft
myself. But taking place at the time it did, and for the reason that it
did, no one could ever make me believe that
my mother was guilty of thieving. She
was simply a victim of the system of
slavery. I cannot remember having slept
in a bed until after our family was
declared free by the Emancipation
Proclamation. Three children -
John, my older brother, Amanda, my
sister, and myself - had a pallet on the dirt floor, or, to be more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of
filthy rags laid upon the dirt floor.
I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports
and pastimes that I engaged in during my
youth. Until that question was asked it had never occurred to me that there
was no period of my life that was
devoted to play. From the time that I can
remember anything, almost every day of
my life had been occupied in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more useful
man if I had had time for sports. During the period that I spent in slavery I
was not large enough to be of much service,
still I was occupied most of the time in
cleaning the yards, carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the mill to which I used to take the corn,
once a week, to be ground. The mill was about three miles from the
plantation. This work I always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be thrown
across the back of the horse, and the
corn divided about evenly on each side;
but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips, the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and
would fall off the horse, and often I
would fall with it. As I was not strong
enough to reload the corn upon the horse,
I would have to wait, sometimes for many
hours, till a chance passer-by came along who would help me out of
my trouble. The hours while waiting for some one were
usually spent in crying. The time consumed in this way made me late in
reaching the mill, and by the time I got
my corn ground and reached home it would
be far into the night. The road
was a lonely one, and often led through
dense forests. I was always
frightened. The woods were said to be full of soldiers who had deserted from
the army, and I had been told that the
first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late in getting home I knew I would always get a
severe scolding or a flogging.
I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave though I
remember on several occasions I went as
far as the schoolhouse door with one of
my young mistresses to carry her books.
The picture of several dozen boys
and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling that to get
into a schoolhouse and study in this way
would be about the same as getting into paradise.
So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got
of the fact that we were slaves, and
that freedom of the slaves was being
discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was awakened by
my mother kneeling over her children and
fervently praying that Lincoln and his
armies might be successful, and that one day she and her children might be free. In this connection I have never been able
to understand how the slaves throughout
the South, completely ignorant as were
the masses so far as books or newspapers were concerned, were able to keep themselves so accurately and
completely informed about the great
National questions that were agitating the country. From
the time that Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the slaves throughout the South kept
in close touch with the progress of the
movement. Though I was a mere child during
the preparation for the Civil War and
during the war itself, I now recall the
many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my mother and the other slaves on the plantation
indulge in. These discussions showed that they understood the situation,
and that they kept themselves informed
of events by what was termed the "grape-vine" telegraph.
During the campaign when
I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or
early boyhood when our entire family sat
down to the table together, and God's
blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a civilized manner.
On the plantation in
Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in
many cases, often found it difficult to
secure food for themselves. I think the slaves felt the deprivation less
than the whites, because the usual diet
for slaves was corn bread and pork, and these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea,
sugar, and other articles which the
whites had been accustomed to use could not be raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought about
by the war frequently made it impossible
to secure these things. The whites were
often in great straits. Parched corn was used for coffee, and a kind
of black molasses was used instead of
sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten the so-called tea and coffee.
The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden
ones. They had rough leather on the
top, but the bottoms, which were about
an inch thick, were of wood. When
I walked they made a fearful noise, and
besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was no yielding to the natural pressure of the
foot. In wearing them one presented and exceedingly awkward
appearance. The most trying ordeal that I was forced to endure as a slave boy,
however, was the wearing of a flax
shirt. In the portion of
One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was
bitter feeling toward the white people
on the part of my race, because of the fact
that most of the white population was away fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in
slavery if the South was successful. In the case of the slaves on our place this
was not true, and it was not true of any
large portion of the slave population in
the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency. During the Civil War one of my young masters
was killed, and two were severely
wounded. I recall the feeling of sorrow
which existed among the slaves when they
heard of the death of "Mars' Billy."
It was no sham sorrow, but
real. Some of the slaves had nursed
"Mars' Billy"; others had
played with him when he was a child.
"Mars' Billy" had
begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or master
was thrashing them. The sorrow in the slave quarter was only
second to that in the "big
house." When the two young masters
were brought home wounded, the sympathy
of the slaves was shown in many ways.
They were just as anxious to
assist in the nursing as the family relatives of the wounded.
Some of the slaves would even beg for the privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters. This tenderness and sympathy on the part of those held in
bondage was a result of their kindly and
generous nature. In order to defend and
protect the women and children who were
left on the plantations when the white
males went to war, the slaves would have laid down their lives. The
slave who was selected to sleep in the "big house" during the
absence of the males was considered to
have the place of honour. Any one attempting to harm "young Mistress"
or "old Mistress" during the night
would have had to cross the dead body of the slave to do so. I do not
know how many have noticed it, but I think that it will be found to
be true that there are few instances,
either in slavery or freedom, in which a
member of my race has been known to betray a specific trust.
As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain
no feelings of bitterness against the
whites before and during the war, but
there are many instances of Negroes tenderly carrying for their former masters and mistresses who for some
reason have become poor and dependent
since the war. I know of instances where
the former masters of slaves have for
years been supplied with money by their former
slaves to keep them from suffering.
I have known of still other cases
in which the former slaves have assisted in the education of the descendants of their former owners. I know of a case on a large plantation in the South in which a young
white man, the son of the former owner
of the estate, has become so reduced in purse and self-control by reason of
drink that he is a pitiable creature; and yet,
notwithstanding the poverty of the coloured people themselves on
this plantation, they have for years
supplied this young white man with the
necessities of life. One sends
him a little coffee or sugar, another a
little meat, and so on. Nothing that the
coloured people possess is too good for
the son of "old Mars' Tom," who will perhaps never be permitted to suffer while any remain on the
place who knew directly or indirectly of
"old Mars' Tom."
I have said that there are few instances of a member of my
race betraying a specific trust. One of the best illustrations of this which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave
from Virginia whom I met not long ago in
a little town in the state of
From some things that I have said one may get the idea that
some of the slaves did not want
freedom. This is not true. I have never
seen one who did not want to be free, or one who would return to slavery.
I pity from the bottom of my heart any nation or body of
people that is so unfortunate as to get
entangled in the net of slavery. I have long since ceased to cherish any spirit
of bitterness against the Southern white
people on account of the enslavement of my race. No one
section of our country was wholly responsible for its introduction, and, besides, it was recognized
and protected for years by the General
Government. Having once got its
tentacles fastened on to the economic
and social life of the Republic, it was no easy matter for the country to relieve itself of the
institution. Then, when we rid ourselves of prejudice, or racial feeling,
and look facts in the face, we must
acknowledge that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral wrong of slavery, the ten million Negroes
inhabiting this country, who themselves
or whose ancestors went through the school of American slavery, are in a stronger and more hopeful
condition, materially, intellectually,
morally, and religiously, than is true of an equal number of black people in any other portion
of the globe. This is so to such an extend that Negroes in this
country, who themselves or whose
forefathers went through the school of slavery, are constantly returning to
Ever since I have been old enough to think for myself, I
have entertained the idea that,
notwithstanding the cruel wrongs inflicted
upon us, the black man got nearly as much out of slavery as the
white man did. The hurtful influences of the institution
were not by any means confined to the
Negro. This was fully illustrated by the
life upon our own plantation. The whole machinery of slavery was so constructed as to cause labour, as a rule, to
be looked upon as a badge of
degradation, of inferiority. Hence
labour was something that both races on
the slave plantation sought to escape.
The slave system on our place, in
a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever
mastered a single trade or special line
of productive industry. The girls were
not taught to cook, sew, or to take care
of the house. All of this was left to
the saves. The slaves, of course, had little personal
interest in the life of the plantation,
and their ignorance prevented them from
learning how to do things in the most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out
of repair, gates were hanging half off
the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced,
weeds grew in the yard. As a rule,
there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was
wanting that delicacy and refinement of
touch and finish which can make a home the most
convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world. Withal
there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad. When
freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of
book-learning and ownership of
property. The slave owner and his
sons had mastered no special
industry. They unconsciously had
imbibed the feeling that manual labour
was not the proper thing for them. On the
other hand, the slaves, in many cases,
had mastered some handicraft, and none were
ashamed, and few unwilling, to labour.
Finally the war closed, and the day of freedom came. It was a
momentous and eventful day to all upon our plantation. We have been
expecting it. Freedom was in the
air, and had been for months. Deserting
soldiers returning to their homes were to be seen every day. Others who had been discharged, or whose
regiments had been paroled, were
constantly passing near our place. The
"grape-vine telegraph" was
kept busy night and day. The news and
mutterings of great events were swiftly
carried from one plantation to another.
In the fear of "Yankee"
invasions, the silverware and other valuables were taken from the "big house," buried in the
woods, and guarded by trusted slaves.
Woe be to any one who would have attempted to disturb the buried treasure.
The slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink, clothing - anything but that which had been
specifically intrusted [sic] to their
care and honour. As the great day drew
nearer, there was more singing in the
slave quarters than usual. It was
bolder, had more ring, and lasted later
into the night. Most of the verses of
the plantation songs had some reference
to freedom. True, they had sung those same verses before, but they had been
careful to explain that the
"freedom" in these songs referred to the next world, and had no connection with life in this world. Now they gradually threw off the mask, and were not afraid to let it be known
that the "freedom" in their
songs meant freedom of the body in this world.
The night before the eventful
day, word was sent to the slaver quarters to the effect that something unusual was going to take
place at the "big house" the
next morning. There was little,
if any, sleep that night. All as excitement and expectancy. Early the next morning word was sent to all the slaves, old and young, to gather at
the house. In company with my mother, brother, and sister, and a large
number of other slaves, I went to the
master's house. All of our master's
family were either standing or seated on
the veranda of the house, where they
could see what was to take place and hear what was said. There was a
feeling of deep interest, or perhaps sadness, on their faces, but
not bitterness. As I now recall the impression they made upon
me, they did not at the moment seem to
be sad because of the loss of property,
but rather because of parting with those whom they had reared and who were in many ways very close to them. The most distinct thing that I now recall in connection with the scene was
that some man who seemed to be a
stranger (a United States officer, I presume) made a little speech and then read a rather long paper - the
Emancipation Proclamation, I think. After the reading we were told that we
were all free, and could go when and
where we pleased. My mother, who
was standing by my side, leaned over and
kissed her children, while tears of joy
ran down her cheeks. She explained to us
what it all meant, that this was the day
for which she had been so long praying, but
fearing that she would never live to see.
For some minutes there was great rejoicing, and
thanksgiving, and wild scenes of
ecstasy. But there was no feeling of
bitterness. In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our
former owners. The wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated
coloured people lasted but for a brief
period, for I noticed that by the time they returned to their cabins there was a change in their
feelings. The great responsibility of being free, of having
charge of themselves, of having to think
and plan for themselves and their children, seemed to take possession of them. It was very much like suddenly turning a youth of ten or twelve years out into the
world to provide for himself. In a few hours the great questions with which
the Anglo-Saxon race had been grappling for centuries had been thrown upon
these people to be solved. These were the questions of a home, a
living, the rearing of children,
education, citizenship, and the establishment
and support of churches. Was it
any wonder that within a few hours the
wild rejoicing ceased and a feeling of deep gloom seemed to pervade the slave quarters? To some it seemed that, now that they were in actual possession of it, freedom was
a more serious thing than they had
expected to find it. Some of the slaves
were seventy or eighty years old; their
best days were gone. They had no
strength with which to earn a living in
a strange place and among strange
people, even if they had been sure where to find a new place of
abode. To this class the problem seemed
especially hard. Besides, deep down in their hearts there was a strange and
peculiar attachment to "old
Marster" and "old Missus," and to their children, which
they found it hard to think of breaking
off. With these they had spent in
some cases nearly a half-century, and it
was no light thing to think of
parting. Gradually, one by one,
stealthily at first, the older slaves
began to wander from the slave quarters back to the "big
house" to have a whispered
conversation with their former owners as to the
future.
CHAPTER II
BOYHOOD DAYS
AFTER the coming of freedom there were two points upon which
practically all the people on our place
were agreed, and I found that this was
generally true throughout the South:
that they must change their
names, and that they must leave the old plantation for at least a few days or weeks in order that they might
really feel sure that they were free.
In some way a feeling got among the coloured people that it
was far from proper for them to bear the
surname of their former owners, and a
great many of them took other surnames.
This was one of the first signs
of freedom. When they were slaves, a
coloured person was simply called
"John" or "Susan."
There was seldom occasion for more
than the use of the one name. If
"John" or "Susan" belonged to a white man by the name of "Hatcher,"
sometimes he was called "John
Hatcher," or as often "Hatcher's John." But there was a feeling that "John Hatcher" or "Hatcher's
John" was not the proper title by which
to denote a freeman; and so in many cases "John Hatcher" was
changed to "John S. Lincoln"
or "John S. Sherman," the initial "S" standing for no name, it being simply a part of what
the coloured man proudly called his
"entitles."
As I have stated, most of the coloured people left the
old plantation for a short while at
least, so as to be sure, it seemed, that
they could leave and try their freedom on to see how it felt. After they had remained away for a while,
many of the older slaves, especially,
returned to their old homes and made some kind of contract with their former owners by which they
remained on the estate.
My mother's husband, who was the stepfather of my brother
John and myself, did not belong to the
same owners as did my mother. In
fact, he seldom came to our
plantation. I remember seeing his there
perhaps once a year, that being about
Christmas time. In some way, during
the war, by running away and following
the Federal soldiers, it seems, he found
his way into the new state of West Virginia.
As soon as freedom was declared,
he sent for my mother to come to the Kanawha Valley, in West Virginia. At that time a journey from Virginia over
the mountains to West Virginia was
rather a tedious and in some cases a
painful undertaking. What little
clothing and few household goods we had
were placed in a cart, but the children walked the greater portion of the distance, which was several hundred
miles.
I do not think any of us ever had been very far from
the plantation, and the taking of a long
journey into another state was quite an
event. The parting from our former
owners and the members of our own race
on the plantation was a serious occasion.
From the time of our parting till
their death we kept up a correspondence with the older members of the family, and in later
years we have kept in touch with those
who were the younger members. We were
several weeks making the trip, and most
of the time we slept in the open air and did our cooking over a log fire out-of-doors. One night I recall that we camped near an abandoned log cabin, and my
mother decided to build a fire in that
for cooking, and afterward to make a "pallet" on the floor for our sleeping. Just as the fire had gotten well started
a large black snake fully a yard and a
half long dropped down the chimney and
ran out on the floor. Of course we at
once abandoned that cabin. Finally we reached our destination - a little
town called Malden, which is about five
miles from Charleston, the present capital
of the state.
At that time salt-mining was the great industry in that part
of West Virginia, and the little town of
Malden was right in the midst of the
salt-furnaces. My stepfather had already
secured a job at a salt-furnace, and he had also secured a little cabin for us
to live in. Our new house was no better
than the one we had left on the old
plantation in Virginia. In fact,
in one respect it was worse.
Notwithstanding the poor condition of our plantation cabin, we were
at all times sure of pure air. Our new home was in the midst of a cluster of cabins crowded closely together,
and as there were no sanitary
regulations, the filth about the cabins was often intolerable.
Some of our neighbours were coloured people, and some were the poorest and most ignorant and
degraded white people. It was a motley mixture. Drinking, gambling, quarrels, fights,
and shockingly immoral practices were
frequent. All who lived in the little town were in one way or another
connected with the salt business. Though I was a mere child, my stepfather put
me and my brother at work in one of the
furnaces. Often I began work as
early as four o'clock in the morning.
The first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge
was while working in this
salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his
barrels marked with a certain
number. The number allotted to my
stepfather was "18." At the close of the day's work the boss of
the packers would come around and put "18"
on each of our barrels, and I soon
learned to recognize that figure wherever I saw it, and after a
while got to the point where I could
make that figure, though I knew nothing
about any other figures or letters.
From the time that I can remember having any thoughts
about anything, I recall that I had an
intense longing to learn to read. I determined, when quite a small child, that,
if I accomplished nothing else in life,
I would in some way get enough education to enable me to read common books and newspapers. Soon after we got settled in some manner in our new cabin in West Virginia, I
induced my mother to get hold of a book
for me. How or where she got it I do not
know, but in some way she procured an
old copy of Webster's "blue-back" spelling-book, which contained the
alphabet, followed by such meaningless words
as "ab," "ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to devour this book, and
I think that it was the first one I ever
had in my hands. I had learned from somebody that the way to begin to read
was to learn the alphabet, so I tried in
all the ways I could think of to learn it, - all of course without a teacher, for I could find no
one to teach me. At that time there was not a single member of my
race anywhere near us who could read,
and I was too timid to approach any of the white people.
In some way, within a few weeks, I mastered the greater portion of the alphabet. In all my efforts to learn to read my
mother shared fully my ambition, and
sympathized with me and aided me in
every way that she could. Though
she was totally ignorant, she had high
ambitions for her children, and a large fund of good, hard, common sense, which seemed to enable her to
meet and master every situation. If I have done anything in life worth
attention, I feel sure that I inherited
the disposition from my mother.
In the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a
young coloured boy who had learned to
read in the state of Ohio came to
Malden. As soon as the coloured
people found out that he could read, a
newspaper was secured, and at the close of nearly every day's work this young man would be surrounded by a group
of men and women who were anxious to
hear him read the news contained in the papers.
How I used to envy this man! He seemed to me to be the one young man in
all the world who ought to be satisfied
with his attainments.
About this time the question of having some kind of a
school opened for the coloured children
in the village began to be discussed by
members of the race. As it would be the
first school for Negro children that had
ever been opened in that part of Virginia, it was, of course, to be a great event, and the
discussion excited the wildest
interest. The most perplexing
question was where to find a teacher.
The young man from Ohio who had learned to read the papers was considered, but his age was against him. In the midst of the discussion about a teacher, another young
coloured man from Ohio, who had been a
soldier, in some way found his way into town.
It was soon learned that he
possessed considerable education, and he was engaged by the coloured people to teach their first
school. As yet no free schools had been started for coloured people
in that section, hence each family
agreed to pay a certain amount per month, with the understanding that the teacher was to
"board 'round" - that is, spend
a day with each family. This was
not bad for the teacher, for each family
tried to provide the very best on the day the teacher was to be its guest.
I recall that I looked forward with an anxious appetite to the "teacher's day" at our little
cabin.
This experience of a whole race beginning to go to school
for the first time, presents one of the
most interesting studies that has ever
occurred in connection with the development of any race. Few people
who were not right in the midst of the scenes can form any exact idea of the intense desire which the people of my
race showed for an education. As I have stated, it was a whole race trying
to go to school. Few were too young, and none too old, to make
the attempt to learn. As fast as any kind of teachers could be secured,
not only were day-schools filled, but
night-schools as well. The great ambition of the older people was to try to
learn to read the Bible before they
died. With this end in view men and
women who were fifty or seventy-five
years old would often be found in the night-school. Some day-schools were formed soon after
freedom, but the principal book studied
in the Sunday-school was the spelling-book.
Day-school, night-school,
Sunday-school, were always crowded, and often many had to be turned away for want of room.
The opening of the school in the Kanawha Valley, however,
brought to me one of the keenest
disappointments that I ever experienced.
I had been working in a
salt-furnace for several months, and my
stepfather had discovered that I had a financial value, and so,
when the school opened, he decided that
he could not spare me from my work.
This decision seemed to cloud my every ambition. The disappointment was made all the more severe by reason of the
fact that my place of work was where I
could see the happy children passing to and from school mornings and afternoons. Despite this disappointment, however, I determined that I would learn something,
anyway. I applied myself with greater earnestness than ever to the
mastering of what was in the
"blue-back" speller.
My mother sympathized with me in my disappointment, and
sought to comfort me in all the ways she
could, and to help me find a way to
learn. After a while I succeeded
in making arrangements with the teacher
to give me some lessons at night, after the day's work was done.
These night lessons were so welcome that I think I learned more at night than the other children did during
the day. My own experiences in the night-school gave me faith
in the night-school idea, with which, in
after years, I had to do both at Hampton and
Tuskegee. But my boyish heart was
still set upon going to the day-school, and I let no opportunity slip to push
my case. Finally I won, and was permitted to go to the school in the
day for a few months, with the
understanding that I was to rise early in the morning and work in the furnace till nine o'clock, and
return immediately after school closed
in the afternoon for at least two more hours of work.
The schoolhouse was some distance from the furnace, and as I
had to work till nine o'clock, and the
school opened at nine, I found myself in
a difficulty. School would always be
begun before I reached it, and sometimes
my class had recited. To get around this
difficulty I yielded to a temptation for
which most people, I suppose, will
condemn me; but since it is a fact, I might as well state it. I have
great faith in the power and influence of facts. It is seldom that anything is permanently gained by holding
back a fact. There was a large clock in a little office in the
furnace. This clock, of course, all the hundred or more workmen depended upon
to regulate their hours of beginning and
ending the day's work. I got the idea
that the way for me to reach school on
time was to move the clock hands from half-past eight up to the nine o'clock
mark. This I found myself doing morning after morning, till the furnace
"boss" discovered that
something was wrong, and locked the clock in a case. I did not mean to inconvenience anybody. I simply meant to reach that schoolhouse
in time.
When, however, I found myself at the school for the first
time, I also found myself confronted
with two other difficulties. In the first place, I found that all the other
children wore hats or caps on their
heads, and I had neither hat nor cap. In
fact, I do not remember that up to the
time of going to school I had ever worn any
kind of covering upon my head, nor do I recall that either I or anybody else had even thought anything about
the need of covering for my head. But, of course, when I saw how all the other
boys were dressed, I began to feel quite
uncomfortable. As usual, I put the case before my mother, and she explained to
me that she had no money with which to
buy a "store hat," which was a rather new institution at that time among the members of my race and
was considered quite the thing for young
and old to own, but that she would find a way to help me out of the difficulty. She accordingly got two pieces of "homespun" (jeans) and sewed them
together, and I was soon the proud
possessor of my first cap.
The lesson that my mother taught me in this has always
remained with me, and I have tried as
best as I could to teach it to others.
I have always felt proud,
whenever I think of the incident, that my
mother had strength of character enough not to be led into the temptation of seeming to be that which she
was not - of trying to impress my
schoolmates and others with the fact that she was able to buy me a "store hat" when she was
not. I have always felt proud that she refused to go into debt for that which
she did not have the money to pay for. Since that time I have owned many kinds of
caps and hats, but never one of which I
have felt so proud as of the cap made of the
two pieces of cloth sewed together by my mother. I have noted the fact, but without satisfaction, I need not
add, that several of the boys who began
their careers with "store hats" and who were my schoolmates and used to join in the sport
that was made of me because I had only a
"homespun" cap, have ended their careers in the penitentiary, while others are not able now
to buy any kind of hat.
My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or rather
a name.
From the time when I could remember anything, I had been called simply "Booker." Before going to school it had never occurred
to me that it was needful or appropriate
to have an additional name. When I heard the schoolroll called, I noticed that
all of the children had at least two
names, and some of them indulged in what seemed to me the extravagance of having three. I was in deep perplexity, because I knew that the teacher would demand of me at
least two names, and I had only
one. By the time the occasion came for
the enrolling of my name, an idea
occurred to me which I thought would make me equal to the situation; and so, when the teacher asked me
what my full name was, I calmly told him
"Booker Washington," as if I had been called by that name all my life; and by that name I have
since been known. Later in my life I found that my mother had given me
the name of "Booker
Taliaferro" soon after I was born, but in some way that part of
my name seemed to disappear and for a
long while was forgotten, but as soon as
I found out about it I revived it, and made my full name "Booker Taliaferro
Washington." I think there are not
many men in our country who have had the
privilege of naming themselves in the way
that I have.
More than once I have tried to picture myself in the
position of a boy or man with an
honoured and distinguished ancestry which I could trace back through a period of hundreds of
years, and who had not only inherited a
name, but fortune and a proud family homestead; and yet I have sometimes had the feeling that if I had
inherited these, and had been a member
of a more popular race, I should have been inclined to yield to the temptation of depending upon my
ancestry and my colour to do that for me
which I should do for myself. Years ago
I resolved that because I had no
ancestry myself I would leave a record of which
my children would be proud, and which might encourage them to still higher effort.
The world should not pass judgment upon the Negro, and
especially the Negro youth, too quickly
or too harshly. The Negro boy has obstacles, discouragements, and temptations
to battle with that are little know to
those not situated as he is. When a
white boy undertakes a task, it is taken
for granted that he will succeed.
On the other hand, people are
usually surprised if the Negro boy does not
fail. In a word, the Negro youth
starts out with the presumption against
him.
The influence of ancestry, however, is important in
helping forward any individual or race, if
too much reliance is not placed upon
it. Those who constantly direct
attention to the Negro youth's moral
weaknesses, and compare his advancement with that of white youths, do not consider the influence of the
memories which cling about the old family
homesteads. I have no idea, as I have
stated elsewhere, who my grandmother
was. I have, or have had, uncles and aunts and cousins, but I have no knowledge as
to where most of them are. My case will illustrate that of hundreds of
thousands of black people in every part
of our country. The very fact that the
white boy is conscious that, if he fails
in life, he will disgrace the whole
family record, extending back through many generations, is of tremendous value in helping him to resist
temptations. The fact that the individual has behind and surrounding him
proud family history and connection
serves as a stimulus to help him to overcome obstacles when striving for success.
The time that I was permitted to attend school during the
day was short, and my attendance was
irregular. It was not long before I
had to stop attending day-school
altogether, and devote all of my time again
to work. I resorted to the night-school
again. In fact, the greater part of the education I secured in my
boyhood was gathered through the
night-school after my day's work was done.
I had difficulty often in
securing a satisfactory teacher.
Sometimes, after I had secured
some one to teach me at night, I would find, much to my disappointment, that the teacher knew but
little more than I did. Often I would
have to walk several miles at night in order to recite my night-school lessons. There was never a time in my youth, no matter how dark and discouraging the days
might be, when one resolve did not
continually remain with me, and that was a determination to secure an education at any cost.
Soon after we moved to West Virginia, my mother adopted into
our family, notwithstanding our poverty,
an orphan boy, to whom afterward we gave
the name of James B. Washington. He has
ever since remained a member of the
family.
After I had worked in the salt-furnace for some time, work
was secured for me in a coal-mine which
was operated mainly for the purpose of
securing fuel for the salt-furnace. Work
in the coal-mine I always dreaded. One reason for this was that any one who
worked in a coal-mine was always
unclean., at least while at work, and it was a
very hard job to get one's skin clean after the day's work was
over. Then it was fully a mile from the
opening of the coal-mine to the face of
the coal, and all, of course, was in the blackest darkness. I do
not believe that one ever experiences anywhere else such darkness
as he does in a coal-mine. The mine was divided into a large number
of different "rooms" or
departments, and, as I never was able to learn
the location of all these "rooms," I many times found myself
lost in the mine. To add to the horror of being lost, sometimes
my light would go out, and then, if I
did not happen to have a match, I would
wander about in the darkness until by chance I found some one to
give me a light. The work was not only hard, but it was dangerous. There
was always the danger of being blown to pieces by a premature explosion of powder, or of being crushed by
falling slate. Accidents from one or the other of these causes were
frequently occurring, and this kept me
in constant fear. Many children of the
tenderest years were compelled then, as
is now true I fear, in most coal-mining
districts, to spend a large part of their lives in these
coal-mines, with little opportunity to
get an education; and, what is worse, I
have often noted that, as a rule, young boys who begin life in a
coal-mine are often physically and mentally dwarfed. They soon lose ambition to do anything else than to continue
as a coal-miner.
In those days, and later as a young man, I used to try to
picture in my imagination the feelings
and ambitions of a white boy with
absolutely no limit placed upon his aspirations and activities. I used
to envy the white boy who had no obstacles placed in the way of his becoming a Congressman, Governor, Bishop,
or President by reason of the accident
of his birth or race. I used to picture
the way that I would act under such
circumstances; how I would begin at the bottom
and keep rising until I reached the highest round of success.
In later years, I confess that I do not envy the white boy
as I once did. I have learned that success is to be measured
not so much by the position that one has
reached in life as by the obstacles which
he has overcome while trying to succeed.
Looked at from this standpoint, I
almost reached the conclusion that often the Negro boy's birth and connection with an unpopular race
is an advantage, so far as real life is
concerned. With few exceptions, the
Negro youth must work harder and must
perform his tasks even better than a white youth in order to secure recognition. But out of the hard and unusual struggle through which he is compelled to
pass, he gets a strength, a confidence,
that one misses whose pathway is comparatively smooth by reason of birth and race.
From any point of view, I had rather be what I am, a member
of the Negro race, than be able to claim
membership with the most favoured of any
other race. I have always been made sad
when I have heard members of any race
claiming rights or privileges, or certain badges of distinction, on the ground simply that they
were members of this or that race,
regardless of their own individual worth or attainments. I have
been made to feel sad for such persons because I am conscious of the fact that mere connection with what is
known as a superior race will not
permanently carry an individual forward unless he has individual worth, and mere connection with
what is regarded as an inferior race
will not finally hold an individual back if he possesses intrinsic, individual merit. Every persecuted individual and race should get much consolation out of the great
human law, which is universal and eternal,
that merit, no matter under what skin found,
is, in the long run, recognized and rewarded. This I have said here, not to call attention to myself as an
individual, but to the race to which I
am proud to belong.
CHAPTER III
THE STRUGGLE FOR AN EDUCATION
ONE day, while at work in the coal-mine, I happened to
overhear two miners talking about a
great school for coloured people somewhere in
Virginia. This was the first time
that I had ever heard anything about any
kind of school or college that was more pretentious than the little coloured school in our town.
In the darkness of the mine I noiselessly crept as close as
I could to the two men who were
talking. I heard one tell the other that not only was the school established for
the members of any race, but the
opportunities that it provided by which poor but worthy students could work out all or a part of the
cost of a board, and at the same time be
taught some trade or industry.
As they went on describing the school, it seemed to me that
it must be the greatest place on earth,
and not even Heaven presented more
attractions for me at that time than did the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute in Virginia, about
which these men were talking. I resolved at once to go to that school,
although I had no idea where it was, or
how many miles away, or how I was going to reach it; I remembered only that I was on fire
constantly with one ambition, and that
was to go to Hampton. This thought was
with me day and night.
After hearing of the Hampton Institute, I continued to work
for a few months longer in the
coal-mine. While at work there, I heard
of a vacant position in the household of
General Lewis Ruffner, the owner of the
salt-furnace and coal-mine. Mrs. Viola
Ruffner, the wife of General Ruffner,
was a "Yankee" woman from Vermont.
Mrs. Ruffner had a reputation all
through the vicinity for being very strict with her servants, and especially with the boys who
tried to serve her. Few of them remained with her more than two or three
weeks. They all left with the same excuse: she was too strict. I decided, however, that I would rather try Mrs. Ruffner's house than
remain in the coal-mine, and so my
mother applied to her for the vacant position.
I was hired at a salary of $5 per
month.
I had heard so much about Mrs. Ruffner's severity that I
was almost afraid to see her, and
trembled when I went into her presence.
I had not lived with her many weeks, however, before I began to understand her. I soon began to learn that, first of all, she
wanted everything kept clean about her,
that she wanted things done promptly and
systematically, and that at the bottom of everything she wanted absolute honesty and frankness. Nothing must be sloven or slipshod; every door, every fence, must be kept in
repair.
I cannot now recall how long I lived with Mrs. Ruffner
before going to Hampton, but I think it
must have been a year and a half.
At any rate, I here repeat what i
have said more than once before, that the
lessons that I learned in the home of Mrs. Ruffner were as valuable to me as any education I have ever
gotten anywhere else. Even to this day
I never see bits of paper scattered around a house or in the street that I do not want to pick them
up at once. I never see a filthy yard that I do not want to clean it,
a paling off of a fence that I do not
want to put it on, an unpainted or unwhitewashed house that I do not want to pain or whitewash it,
or a button off one's clothes, or a
grease-spot on them or on a floor, that I do not want to call attention to it.
From fearing Mrs. Ruffner I soon learned to look upon her as
one of my best friends. When she found that she could trust me she
did so implicitly. During the one or two winters that I was with
her she gave me an opportunity to go to
school for an hour in the day during a
portion of the winter months, but most of my studying was done at night, sometimes alone, sometimes under some
one whom I could hire to teach me. Mrs. Ruffner always encouraged and
sympathized with me in all my efforts to
get an education. It was while living
with her that I began to get together my
first library. I secured a dry-goods
box, knocked out one side of it, put
some shelves in it, and began putting into
it every kind of book that I could get my hands upon, and called it my "library."
Notwithstanding my success at Mrs. Ruffner's I did not give
up the idea of going to the Hampton
Institute. In the fall of 1872 I determined to make an effort to get there,
although, as I have stated, I had no
definite idea of the direction in which Hampton was, or of what it would cost to go there. I do not think that any one thoroughly sympathized with me in my ambition
to go to Hampton unless it was my
mother, and she was troubled with a grave fear that I was starting out on a "wild-goose
chase." At any rate, I got only a
half-hearted consent from her that I might start. The small amount of money that I had earned had been consumed by
my stepfather and the remainder of the
family, with the exception of a very few dollars, and so I had very little with which to buy
clothes and pay my travelling expenses. My brother John helped me all that he could,
but of course that was not a great deal,
for his work was in the coal-mine, where he
did not earn much, and most of what he did earn went in the
direction of paying the household
expenses.
Perhaps the thing that touched and pleased me most in connection with my starting for Hampton was the interest that many of the older coloured people took in the matter. They had spent the best days of their lives in slavery, and hardly expected to live to see the time when they would