AS IT IS
OR
The Conditions Under Which
the Race Problem Challenges
the White Man's Solution
BY
MAMIE JORDAN CAVER
"1 wftir/avi fy<s\ii7^yjf?«\ir/gi\i rritvir?a\i
AS IT IS
OR
The Conditions Under Which
the Race Problem Challenges
the White Man's Solution
BY
MAMIE JORDAN CAVER
Copyright, 1919, by M. E. CAVER
Washington, D. C.
CONTENTS
Chapter page
I. The So-called Negro Problem and the White
Man's Solution 5
II. A Perplexed Mother 18
III. Evilness of^Pride 28
IV. Charles Rejected 33
V. Charles Unburdens His Sorrow 37
VI. Mrs. Westmoreland's Sorrow 39
VII. Mae's Trials in Life 42
VIII. Gregory Seeks Mae's Aid 50
IX. Plots Laid for Mae's Downfall 62
X. The Plot Disturbed 71
XI. Mae Forced in a Cave 77
PART II.
XII. Summary of the Ten Years of Charles' Disap¬
pearance 89
XIII. Deathbed Scene 97
DEDICATED TO MY HUSBAND
FATHER AND MOTHER
WITH SINCERE
TRIBUTE
AS IT IS
CHAPTER I
The so called Negro problem and the white man's
solution.
The morning was not so far advanced but breakfast
at the Westmoreland mansion was for sometime over and
1he servants were busy about their household duties. It
was not one of the sunshiny days that usually marks this
season of the year. But the showers of rain that had
fallen the previous day had cleaerd all the mist that had
obscured the landscape and the clear sky and pleasant
warmth were -gladdening the earth. The trees showed
that spring was coming. Their tender buds were burst¬
ing, the awful monotony which winter had bequeathed
to woodland, orchard and garden. The scene filled the
birds with the inspiration of song. They were adding
their quota of merriment and breaking the silence which
otherwise would make things lonely for Charles West¬
moreland. The master of Westmoreland in those days
when one of the delights of early youth is to pass long
moments in day dreams.
Of late, as if the tediousness of the breakfast with no
orie else but this widowed mother whom he could not
think ol troubling with the thoughts that sometimes de¬
lighted at'other times, pained and perplexed him. No
wonder he looked' forward eagerly for breakfast to be
over and he sought his favorite retreat, the nook in which
two spurs of the hill sheltered his home from the cold
winds of the north. He sat down and pensively review¬
ed the situation in which the laws of his country had
placed him. They were laws made in utter violation of
law divine, as are so many in the United States, laws
which the lawmakers themselves shamelessly violate be-
6
AS IT IS
fore the world. But the birds were not much longer to try-
to sooth the burdensome mind of Charles with song. Na¬
ture was in one of its changeful moods. Suddenly it
began to turn a deaf ear to the chirping, whistling melo¬
dy of birds. The sky that so lovely with its flawless blue
was suddenly overcast with murky clouds, clouds driven
over it by the Stiff south-west wind. The elements were
at war. The thunders were roaring at different points of
the compass. , The tops of trees were again and again
lit up with , flashes mad-playing in ether and the rains
were falling;'in torrents.
At the commencement of this furious storm Charles
threw down the cigar. The sole witness of the turbu¬
lence ol soul which the turbulent mood of nature had
quelled and picking his hat, blown off by the wind, he
hurried towards the shelter of the house. The heavy
drops of rain which had fallen on his brow when he was
going in pursuit of his hat cooled his frenzied thoughts
and lifted him up above the meanness and cowardice of
the society which would dare to make for him the at¬
mosphere in which to live and move and have his being, to
contemplate the enigma and problem which they had
formulated for themselves, as if He who had made all
things well, had left them to the sense of what was truth¬
ful, right and beautiful, completely atrophied and the fair
south a charnel house.
It was only in the fitness of. things that the soul of
man which had at some remote past lost the harmonious-
ness of its parts should be capable of being trained and of
being restored, of being turned from darkness to light,
from falsity to truth, from the powers of Satan unto
God. But man will not allow the great infallible teacher,
the all wise Maker of the Universal Whole that knew
everything about the constitution of the whole and its
parts, that knew much more about man than he knew
about himself to teach him from step to step until he
reaches the only legitimate goal of perfectibleness, the
goal of the artist in his work of his art. He has at any
rate taught to rear up these stately mansions, to adjust
AS IT IS
7
the parts in proportion of size and beauty, and given her
trees, birds, animals as models to whet his ambition to
create structures comely and perfect. But just here man
seems to stop as if he wants no higher flights for the ex¬
ercise of his genius. He would prefer to make the
world of man which he controls, a Sodom and Gomorrah,
rather than a Garden of Eden. In the Nature of things
the Southland wants but the sanctified genius of its mas¬
ters becoming emulous of the Great Teacher and all wise
Maker, to shape itself into a Garden of happiness and
peace.
' We are taught by Nature that nothing can live alone
not even God-like man. Trees cannot live without sup¬
plies outside of themselves. They cannot live without
vegetable nutriment They get it from the earth and the
earth is indebted to them for the structural material
of its crust and surface.
It would accordingly seem a gross violation of the mu¬
tual contribution of natural law for the two races, the re¬
sult of the highest flight of constructive genius in the
economy of things, to live in the same country at a dis¬
tance from one another, which artifice has made so great
that it cannot be bridged^ Why not in obedience to the
natural structural law of mutual contribution is assimi¬
lation to become by artificial law impracticable? What
fool's dream it is to postulate a theory contrary to natu¬
ral law and its operations. Those would seem fit for an
insane asylum, who of their own accord are daily invok¬
ing the name of the God whom they dread with awful
horror in one voice, and offer burnt offerings to Him
in another voice, without the deity—"race equality"—
responding to their summons and standing at their door
like the sin of Cain.
"I know the Negro race is not so intelligent as our
• race," soliloquized Charles, "in cultured intelligence, but
if we compare their opportunities and environments, the
Negro race would seem to have taken hold of civiliza-
'on, as they see it, quite as if not more readily than any
>ther race. This is too true to demand demonstration.
8
AS IT IS
And in this we see the footprints of race assimilativeness
and the great African hunter, Selous, goes as far to sug¬
gest in the higher susceptibilities of our common human
nature race affinity. In a comparative statement of ra¬
cial nearness he makes the Negro and Caucasian races
nearest to one another with greatest mutual adaptiveness.
We must quote the practically dead gospel, "All men
are created equal and they are endowed by their Crea¬
tor with certain inalienable rights,— life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness." The question is thrown in the
teeth of the opponent, "Has any other race the right to
take any man's rights? To admit that they would have
to make poltroons of men. They have the power to do
so. They are the law-makers. They are clearly self-
deprived cowards. Such reflections on the interracial
situation were natural. But they seldom coursed through
the soul of a born and bred southerner, as they coursed
through the heart and reason of Charles Westmoreland.
He thought more like one identified with the cause re¬
sponded than a mere advocate. But it was no haphazard
cogitation. It was habitual as if rubbed into every fiber
of his soul, and came to life whenever he sought the se¬
clusion of that nook.
It was in the midst of the storm after picking up his hat
that Mr. Westmoreland hurried into the house and unex^
pectedly received the greeting of his old chum and school
friend, Lonnie Gregory Sinclair. He had the entry of the
house and calling at that early hour, he sat down and
waited for Charles whom he met at the hall. His face
flushed with pleasure but the warm words on his tongue
flattened on his lips, for though Charles met him with a
welcome smile of intimate friendshp, his face was clothed
in the livery of the somber thoughts that were exercising
his mind.
"Charles, old boy! What is the matter? Are you
ill?" One seeing you as I did just now would think that
you are haunted by some fearful vision. Surely it can't
be that you have fallen in love ? With which happy one -of
the fair sex? Lady Linsdale, eh? Has she— . Come,
AS IT IS
9
old boy plenty of sympathy is throbbing for you, is
throbbing here (striking his breast.) Pour sorrows into
it."
Do I so carry my thoughts on my sleeves? Charles
relaxing to say this, his smile lighting up his face for a
brief moment. But your jest would mean little to me if
the subject of my thoughts was myself more than others.
I wish I could tell you with the hope of engaging your
sympathy. But I am where you cannot intermeddle.
Your friendship for me ends there. Loving you as I do
I cannot but wish it were otherwise.
How lugubrious you are this morning, Charles. I
have noticed it before. But you are more so this morn¬
ing. Perhaps the weather has something to do with it.
Come, old boy, tell me what ails you. I have always been
your friend. Has the wheel of fortune so turned against
you as to cover you with a mantle of impenetrable gloom?
Make your friend your confidante and give me an oppor¬
tunity of proving my friendship. You know my good
fellow, what a pleasure it is to me to serve you."
Charles at length yielded to Gregory's solicitation. It
was free of all levity and insincerity.
"The loss of health, my dear Gregory, of wealth, even
of so dear a one as mother might overwhelm me with
sorrow and distress; but then I would live in hope; for
time would assuage my grief and place the sweet cup of
solace to my lips. But no such hope could be cherished
for the lifting of this burden from my soul. It outweighs
the loss of every precious gift you might name. Death
indeed would be far more to be preferred. There is no
real cure for it, though you may name a thousand and
except the only cure.
Gregory was insensibly moved by such a recital from
the pale lips of his friend. But he now understood the
measure of human sorrow, whatever its nature, that was
crushing Charles and made him look so woe begone.
"0, Gregory, if you could only serve me in this matter,
bitterer to me than death, I would make you a rich man!
Fortune, I need not say has blessed me with abundance
10
AS IT IS
as far as money goes, and I will part with thousands,
yea, a million of it, if skilled with the irrepressible energy
of the young lawyer and acumen sharp as steel, I could ef¬
face root and branch—though it were the work of a life¬
time—all those state laws that are in open violation of the
wlording as well as the fundamental principles of the con¬
stitution of the American Union."
"I see it now, old fellow. I see the drift of your
thoughts. You are still at those interracial laws! Why
don't you leave them alone ?" Good or bad they should be
revered by you if by anyone, for they embody the wisdom
of your fathers. You cannot profess to be wiser than they.
Each sovereign state legislated for itself, to suit itself
without any reference to the Union, and cannot be said to
violate them, especially as the states and their laws ex¬
isted before the Union and its laws. Accordingly, what
were last cannot do away with what were first. Be that
as it may, why, my dear friend, distress yourself over
them?"
"On that point, Gregory, you see we are in sympathy
with each other, but are as asunder as the poles. But
the nature of things is against your argument. The
changes that are always going on in the world of men as
well as in the world of nature always fulfill themselves
in the fact that the things which in natural sequence come
last supercede and abolish things that precede them. As
in the Mosaic and Gospel dispensation, the latter abolish
the former, the more so must the laws of the Union,
though subsequent to those of the states, abolish them
when they were subscribed to by the representatives and
senators of the states severally. Therein all sociological
laws of the states that were in contradiction to the socio¬
logical laws of the Union were in all reason tacitly abol¬
ished. by them. But speaking to you as a friend, dear
Gregory, these accursed laws of the states on the two
races, to which our dear fathers were mad enough to lend
their votes and perverted talents are indeed interfering
with my life happiness. If you will serve me in helping
to abolish them, I will make you a rich man. In your
AS IT IS
11
practice as a lawyer and state legislator put forth all
the powers of your genius in bringing skill sufficient to
bring into disuse and consign to the limits to which it
belongs, the law whereby intermarriages are prohibited.
Charles was all fire. His eyes were burning as living
coal and almost hypnotized Gregory, and could not fail
to have done so had the humane instincts of the man of
the south remained intact in a state of nature instead of
being brutalized and atrophied by the social atrocities of
slavery, even though they were ostensibly abolished.
"What nonsense, Charles? You pain and astonish me
more than I can express. One may conclude that your
fate is the unnatural keeping of some negress or other,
who has certainly captivated and enslaved you beyond all
reasonable limits. Surely you are not wishing to make
the wretched hussy your wife. Really, Charles, you have
grievously disappointed me, for I had given you credit
for more common sense. No sir, if that was the subject
of your gloomy thoughts, I Would not have the wealth
you would give me, were it in millions or in billions.
What a mistake you have made in treating me as one
mad enough to believe in social equality between white
and negro. Imagine my sister in love with a black man
and thinking of marrying the creature! I would kill her
from the gross infamy."
Charles' lips curled with scorn in looking at Gregory,
frenzied at the thought of his sister doing such a thing.
"Take the other side, Gregory," said Charles. "Imagine
yourself in love with a negro woman. What then?
"I could not love one," said Gregory, "though ever so
fascinated by one, for with my money I could easily grati¬
fy my passion."
"Hush, hush, Gregory! You make me shudder over
the wreck you are of morality and shame, though so
young. You are already tied at the chariot wheel of the
lascivious south. It is bearing you on in triumph. The
horrible, base idea of buying the virtue of little Mae with
filthy gold would drive me mad. Yes, Gregory, she is
the only woman I would make my wife. I would do it
12
AS IT IS
tomorrow, but for that treasonable enactment, the out¬
come of filthy souls against intermarriage. The foul lust
of white men for black women is written with a pen of
iron on the moral escutcheon of the southland. Booker
Washington in his speeches occasionally blazons it out
to his audience consisting of white and black. One reads
it at every turn. It is so universal in its sway that the
black belts may soon be obliterated by unlawful as lawful
connubial intercourse. .The accursed law, the apotheosis
of habitual moral compromises in the states of the human
is my deadly foe. It places my fate in the balances and
leaves it a pigment and my happiness a wreck. The long
and short of it, Gregory, I am miserable and you know
why."
"The annals of my youth vindicates me from the charge
of infatuation^ for such you are ready to think. Years
ago when I was in my mother's arms Aunt Jennie was
brought to our home and mother placed me in her care.
1 then learned to love the Negro people about me. For
with the under susceptibilities of a child how in the
nature of things could I fail to love those who seemed to
live for me, to anticipate all my wishes even to the whims
and caprices of childhood, to attend me in season and out
of season, sleeping or waking? How could I fail to love a
people manifestly endowed with such unswerving and un¬
selfish devotion. Put yourself in my place, Gregory, could
the human soul in you fail to respond gratefully to kind¬
ness like theirs ?
"Gratefully! Gratefully, why, my good fellow, what are
you thinking of? Gratefully? to the Negroes who were
once your slaves and are now paid to serve you ? Hundreds
rf southern families are served by Negroes as faithfully
as your own without gratitude for the masters and mis¬
tresses being so much as a named item in the contract."
"Well, Gregory, I am surprsed and pained that one so
young as you in the midst of a more enlightened age
than our unprogressive fathers in the dismal slave pens of
the South could boast, should think in that way. Taking
things as they are now not as they were before we were
AS IT IS
13
born, I am more surprised that the darkness of the past,
as if by heredity, should be the mirror through which you
are viewing interracial life. Why man I would be worse
than a brute if when mother placed me in Aunt Jennie's
arms to nurse and care for, while she herself was in pur¬
suit as one of the belles of society, of pleasure and gaiety,
if the tender sensible ties of my childhood years were not
more and more impressed with the consciousness that she
was more a mother of mine than the mother that bore me.
The very ox knoweth its owner, and the ass its master's
crib, and I feel I would be worse than the brutes not to
give Aunt Jennie love for love, and to treat the race she
was adoring with loving kindness. They at least were not
indifferent about me as my white neighbors were."
"I see, Charles, you are more deeply prejudiced in favor
of your Negroes than of the whites who are your neigh¬
bors, myself included. It is not complimentary, my dear
fellow.''
"My prejudice in the Negroes favor, Gregory, is born
of reason, which balances value with value, and naturally
declares in favor of the value that transcends. The pref¬
erence, after all must be considered personal. In that
viewpoint you must not expect me to be false to myself,
with the insipid mammie on my lips which hypocrisy
uses to prove affection for the Negro as a race, while
those who listen laugh in their sleeves.
"But my mammie was really dear to me old boy."
"That she was so in a way, Gregory, I do not for a
moment doubt. But what of it, were your mammie's proud
daughter's your gentle and high souled, and handsome
playmate, in what manner would she be dear to the ordi¬
nary southerner?
"Why of course, if he is so minded as a young man, as
his future mistress." "The truth is out Charles. The or¬
dinary SoutKgrner in such a case conceives of her value
to him as not that which should cherish and guard from
his dishonor and degradation but a value he thinks he
should bestialize in his depraved and bestial standard of
fitness. "You put it too strong, Charles." "But it is the
14
AS IT IS
strength of what is reasonably true. Once upon a time,
Aunt Jennie was called from us to look after her daugh¬
ter's little girl. This was quite a shocking incident to
mother for she was helpless with the care of her child. So
her only escape from the dilemma was to allow Aunt
Jennie to bring the child to our home, and there take care
of us both. As I was already trained in the estimate of
human value in character and soul, and not in complexion,
the advent of little Mae was to become a fulfillment of
my long desire for a companion of the same age as my¬
self.
As soon as my infant eyes fell on her lovely bright eyes,
her pretty face, her modest and shy way, I was overjoyed.
She was evidently more matured as a girl than I was as
a boy, tho, I was years her senior and as I had no sister,
she seemed to have come to fill the place of one. We soon
learned to romp and play together and in course of time
I learned to depend upon her as my counsellor as well as
playmate and she was my little woman. For her age, her
firmness of character and purpose, her gentle manner,
her love of truth, her pious ways, her chaste language re¬
flected the care with which her lost mother had trained
her up in the ideals left us by Christ, and th,ey were the
ideals with which Aunt Jennie and my mother in her per¬
fect way Were trying to foster in me. We were affinities
drawn to one another. Looking back upon that stage of
our life, I have not the least doubt that we were affinities,
and to crown all, she as well as Aunt Jennie taught me to
read the bible."
"Even tho' your little Mae, my dear. Charles, was
adorned "v^ith perfection and virtues and knowledge, her
being a Negress means everything. You cannot make any¬
thing else of her; you cannot treat her as if she were
white. It would be monstrous. But to think of it makes
me laugh. The millionaire Charles, that can summon the
world to his feet, wants to marry a Negress. All you
have said, my good fellow, comes to that. The bald truth
is you love Mae and you want to marry her. I have no
patience with you, Charles. I will not stay to listen to all
AS IT IS
15
that rot. Give me my hat and let me go. You are making
me furious." "I see, Gregory, I have made a mistake in
making you my confidante. You had asked me why I
looked so down spirited, when I came in out of the storm,
and thinking of the years we spent as college chums, and
that we had everything in common, outside of the things
dearest to me in life. The things of my home, these I have
now told you; but I made a mistake. You are my friend,
my dear Gregory, but your friendship ends just where it
would be invaluable." "You wrong me Charles, I am your
true friend, and the proof of my friendship is the risk
I run of incurring your displeasure rather than encourage
you to make the greatest mistake of your life. You seem
not to know that the dearest idol of the south is the white
social superiority as against social equality. In other
words, there is no such thing as social equality between
the races, and your theory is in contravention of this
Southern principle." "I could not encourage you in this
profanity. I could not help you to become an iconoclast.''
"So far, you have unknowingly but accurately defined
the position of the South. Social inequality is its God,
and social equality their devil. The heathens have such
a God and such a devil whom they worshipped on the one
hand, and profaned on the other. They propitiate their
devil of social equality with lynchings more horribly in
the method than human sacrifice among the heathens.
My poor Gregory, your superstition of equality or in¬
equality in the south is a sentiment and not a principle.
The reign of the sentiment as a superstition is transient.
It will change as such things change, when the light of
truth reaches the south, and darkness passes away. No
other country in the world where the fence splitter
evolves a Lincoln and the canal boy a Garfield so absolute¬
ly stamps the apothesis of social equality with its natural
worthlessness. The innate equality of the Negro is bound
sooner or later to assert itself, tho, the southern heavens
fail. Let the God that rules the true and the social bigots
with their idolatry and superstition be liars. It is the
problem that divine history will solve, to confound the
16
AS IT IS
haughtiness and folly of race assumption." "But intelli¬
gence of the South, Charles, is impervious to your philos¬
ophy. The Ethiopian must first change the accident of his
skin before the whites accept, whatever the ruler of the
universe may do, social equality as a human possibility.
But the language in which you maintain your contention
befits it Gregory. It is profane as well as absurd. But
after all that may be said for or against it Gregory. I
have had the privilege of coming in contact with one as
true as the sun is to the day or as the stars to the night.
I believe Mae to be an angel, sent to me by no fiat of cir¬
cumstances. She has impressed indelibly on my mind the
fine value of truth and honesty. I have seen her whipped,
scolded, locked up in a darkened room all day when we
were children because she persisted in saying "yes" when
others thought that "no" was the true answer. This
of course may appear to you a little thing, but it meant
for me who as a witness on these occasions the integrity
and fortitude which always distinguished little May.
, Fathful in that which was, she could but be faithful in
the little things that go to make up daily life.
Gregory remained obstinate in his prejudice: "I could
lay a wager," said he, "that your virtuous black beauty is
no better than her class. I swear by our southern adage:
'All coons look alike to me.' "
"Be silent monster! If ever you offer an insult to this
young girl, I would cross the world over and over to
find you and nothing short of your life's blood should
atone for it. But we had better part, Gregory, for I see we
are going to fall out to the extent of becoming enemies
for life. We have been the best friends and I want you
before we part to promise me to keep my secret sacred
until I have thought the matter most carefully over."
"Certainly, my dear fellow, I am ready to promise you
anything except advancing the cause of social equality.—
Good day, Gregory, I may then depend upon your silence
in this matter." "Yes, bye, bye, old fellow. I hope your
common sense will come back to you soon." Gregory then
took his departure muttering: "Well, it beats everything I
AS IT IS
17
ever heard. Charles with his millions allowing old Aunt
Jennie to make him believe a Negro wench could be
virtuous. I don't know what the world is coming to."
CHAPTER II.
A Perplexed Mother
Mrs. Westmoreland was sitting in her boudoir. Her
still handsome face was overcast with a cloud of perplexi¬
ty. A sudden impulse seized her. She rang the bell near
to hand to summon her maid Diana, who hurried along
from the kitchen whose tongue was plying on the many
gossips of the servant world, and hinting to her mates her
mistress of late had become rather morose. "What is it
ma'am?" Diana asked her mistress. "Tell your master
Charles that I wish to see him at once." He will find me
:n the drawing room." Diana quickly left and went in
search of young Mr. Westmoreland. Shortly after, Charles
entered and found his mother sitting in the chair, which
she as a rule occupied when she sat in the drawing room
with her working table close by. He was struck on seeing
how sad and troubled she looked. "Mother, what is the
matter? Surely you have had no bad news." "Why do you
ask, Charles? Nothing is the mateter, nor have I had any
bad news. But you make me extremely anxious, Charles."
"I make you extremely anxious, mother? How
so? " Yes, darling. I am anxious about your fu¬
ture and the future of our house. I have waited
for sometime to speak to you about it. You cannot
doubt that your future is of the first importance to me
and I cannot defer any longer from talking to you about
it. You are very rich now. You have always been a
dutiful son to your mother and your high culture and
industry in looking after things make me proud of you.
Otherwise, my dear boy, you are now thirty and you seem
not to know that you are settling down in the ways of
an old bachelor. I have intently watched your manner
AS IT IS
19
of self complacency and indifference to the finest society
of young ladies, when you happened to be in their com¬
pany of the best of whom would consider herself highly
honored with your attentions. It seems as if I am
to be greatly disappointed. I had mapped out such
a bright future for my only boy, and the daughter-in-law
to be, so supply, as I have not been blessed with a daugh¬
ter, the place of one.
0, Charles, my dear son, you must begin to think of
marrying and bring into the house a daughter for your
poor mother. It would make me a happy mother with
my darling boy and his darling wife daily about me.
Don't you know when you are away on business how lone¬
ly you leave me ? May is attentive to my every want and
looks after the house splendidly, sometimes with too much
self assertion. And she is not as your wife would be to
me. She cannot be a companion for me. Charles, dear,
why don't you marry?
"Mother," replied Charles with fervor and sincerity, "I
would to God I could marry and make you happy. Bui;
I do not believe I shall ever marry.
Mrs. Westmoreland could hardly believe her ears. She
paled under the shock of Charles words.
What, Charles, what do you mean? Are you thinking
the affairs of your business will not let you marry? You
are not so mad with business as to let it monopolize your
entire life and \frear it out with such an unnatural way. I
don't know what is the matter with you. It is not
shyness for you are as manly as a fond mother could
desire and I undertake to assure you. None of the young-
ladies whom you meet in society would discourage any
advancement on your part. I see it. I know it. On both
sides your family compares with the best of them. There
is Winthrop. What better w'oman than that high-souled,
accomplished young lady could you have for a wife? And
you meet many like her. For I do not wish to choose a
a wife for you."
"0 dearest mother, you must see I don't care for any of
20
AS IT IS
them as wife. Please oblige me by dropping the subject.
I shall never marry."
"So you are going to remain single. You were born
and bred and educated to make your widowed mother
wretched. The proud old family becomes extinct. You
the most cherished of its members are going to make it so.
Is that what you owe to it ?"
"0 mother, mother, spare me and dismiss the subject
now and forever. I cannot marry. Talking won't make
me, tho I'd give worlds to please you by marrying."
My fireside will be lonely, Charles. No little ones to
call me grandmother. No infant voice to li^p my name.
No son or daughter to bring joy and cheer to my old age.
All of the toys with which I played in my childhood I have
kept carefully in that closet to be given to my little unborn
grand-daughter. Should you marry and have one, she
should be the one to play with the treasured toys. De¬
lusive fancy! Only yesterday I examined the diamonds.
The sight of them awakened my pride as on the first day I
put them on as happy as a bride. More beautiful gems
were never seen. But they have been put away since the
death of your father to be handed over to his son's wife
for her bridal tiara. The thought of the hopes of all
years being lost by your—as it seems—obduracy and in¬
difference to my regrets is very painful, Charles. Spare
me the mortification."
"Hush my mother. Give yourself no unnecessary pain
and I shall see my lawyer and learn what can be done
in the future so that we may make you happy."
"My dear Charles, what has your lawyer to do with
your marrying? Why seek him? Instead of some fair face,
some good girl whom you may ask to be your bride and
the mother of your children? You are the last of your
race. If you die to my great bereavement and sorrow, if
I survive will be added the mortification of the wealth of
our family passing to a distant female relative whom I
have reason to dislike. When we were girls your father
seemed at one time partial to her, and, as a rival to his
love I dislike her. What makes her the more offensive,
AS IT IS
21
she has been telling it from place to place that the bulk of
your estate, according to your grandfather's will, be¬
comes hers should you die, as she is nearest kin. This
is the fond subject of her heartless boast. You see then
how important it is for you to marry and keep the estate
in our family. I hate the very thought of herself and
hers occupying our home. It almost drives me mad. You
will spare your fond mother all this. You will surely do
so, Charles, by marrying, as I am praying you will."
Charles, rising from his seat, began to pace up and
down. Then after a while he began to entreat his mother
to be patient. Thinking the same that there was no way
he could see to make her happy, he at length, murmured
hardly audible, "I shall see my lawyer,"
"You will exhaust my patience, Charles, with that sub¬
terfuge. It is nothing more nor less. What, again, I ask
has the lawyer to do with your consenting to marry.
What am I to understand by it my son?"
"I have pressing business with my lawyer that needs
my immediate attention, to whom the question of my
marriage must be submitted. There is a connection
between the two, the nature of which I hope to explain
later on. I must now be off, mother dear. Try dearest,
to compose yourself. I love you too much to see you
worried."
As Charles left the room Mrs. Westmoreland greatly
worried over her son's plans, picked up the daily paper
from the floor where it had fallen and tried to read, but
she tried in vain, for the image of her handsome son about
whom she was so worried consumed her thoughts. In
the adjoining room was Diana, sitting during the inter¬
view, listening to the conversation between mother and
son (as servants sometimes do) at the same time mum¬
bling to herself, "Ah afraid to meddle in dis 'ere bizness of
missus, case she should not believe me, fur May's face is
black. But sure as I's a standing here, dat' man's in love
with her. The drawing room door suddenly opened upon
her. "Why, Diana," exclaimed Mrs. Westmoreland, "you
here." "Put this room in order, I must go to look after
22
AS IT IS
dinner, she added in a kind of soliloquy. Though I feel so
worried and why it is hard to say." She passed out and
left Diana busy about the room dusting the furniture and
putting things in order as her mistress had told her.
"I told old Marsus/' said Diana, to herself, "not to make
dat law." It was certainly in his power to check its pass¬
age, but he would not listen to Diana. "I may look funny
and curious but I'se got a little senses. I told him not to
measure all us niggers by one measure. Fo' you see,
dere's some in my race got as much senses as dey have
got. When a man lubes, he lubes and you know marrying
is the end of lubbing and he can't hep hissef who he lubs.
Now you see, young marsus' happiness is the fust sacrifice
and his old missus is to be a mad woman—all on 'count of
dat law bein' brought about. I mean dat law dat says
white folks and niggers can't marry. Marsus sho can't
marry her caise dat proud mudder would die. As much as
she loves him she would not let him marry one of us nig¬
gers even to make him happy. I hope old Diana be dead
when all dis trouble come 'bout. Marsus told me 'fore he
died to take care of old missus. I could stop here and cry
my eyes out."
On leaving his mother, Charles Westmoreland, instead
of seeking his lawyer, went to his room to reflect over his
situation. He was not there long, however, before he was
greeted by Mae.
Well, Mr. Westmoreland, began Mae, I have bad
news for myself and my old mammy. We are to leave you
in thirty days. I must now give up the one and only spot
I know as home. We will henceforth dwell in a little town
near the banks of the Mississippi. The brother of whom
you have heard me speak so often has met a sad fate. He
has been accused of a shameful crime, known in that sec¬
tion as the nameless one, and without even a trial or a
chance to prove himself innocent has been feathered and
burned at stake. He was allowed to write these last
dying words to me. They will haunt my life forever."
"Read them to me," replied Charles, "if I am not asking
too much."
AS IT IS
23
Mae, trying hard to compose herself and keep back the
sobs that were almost choking her read thus:
My dear and only sister Mae:
"The only one in this hour of trouble to whom I may
look for sympathy, yet even that is denied me, for when
you receive this letter I shall have paid the debt that
mortals are destined to pay. I am accused by the world of
a shameful crime and I shall die as guilty of the nameless
crime. If it were not for you, my only earthly comfort in
the time of trouble, I could walk in the fire—for I am told
that is the way I shall die. But with head erect I shall
die the death of a martyr."
"It is a woman's honor I am dying to save and a
soldier fears not death for a just cause. When you shall
take up the daily paper and see in prominent headlines:
"A Negro Brute Lynched or Burned for the Nameless
Crime" you will be anxious to learn the details and read it.
But when you find that your brother is the brute of whom
they write, your heart will grow sick and faint. You will
wonder how I could be guilty of such a crime. But I tell
you I am not guilty of the crime and I ask you to take
courage from this fact and know that your brother dies
a noble and innocent death. I fear it shall kill my dear
old mammy but console her, and live, dear sister, to
prove to the world that it is—"The Negro's Problem I die
to defend, but the White Man's Solution."
"Oh, my God, interrupted Charles. Stop one minute!
It seems more than I can bear. Nevertheless, if you are
bearing it with the courage and fortitude of a Christian,
why not I? I should be giving you a word of consolation,
but I am only a little child. Under the present condition
of affairs, I fear that you are reading my doom. Read on,
1 shall try to be a patient listener."
Mae continued: "I did not know that it was a crime
to love when "God is love" and He gave to every mortal a
heart capable of loving. There are qualities in us that
farce us to love regardless of how hard we endeavor to
crush it. Had I discerned my fate when I went to Mrs.
Griggs to earn my bread as a servant, I would have
24
AS IT IS
starved rather than met this fate. I met her daughter
Lillian, looking like the flower that her name implies.
She was so kind and tender, ever willing to minister unto
my least wish, that my heart went out for her. Oh, if I
could have buried my love! For I knew then that if it
became known it would be pronounced a crime for a
Negro man to love a white woman. Then I shunned her
and resolved to give up my job and seek work elsewhere.
When I gave notice of my intention, I was entreated not
to leave. My salary was raised, so I did not know what to
do. I concluded, however, to try to work, harder and for¬
get my love for Lillian. When she saw how I tried to
avoid her she became pale and each day the life that was
so precious to me was being wasted as a flower decays.
7 warned her to be more careful with herself, for she was
then exposing herself to the weather as one tired of life.
She railed at me saying that she did not care to live and
that I was the cause of it. She told me of her love for
me without my asking, and said that if I did not give her
love in return, she would kill herself and I w'ould be the
cause of her suicide. You know that I already loved her
dearer than life, and what was I then to do, a poor Negro
soldier? I told her how my race was despised and re¬
jected by her race and that I could not offer my hand in
marriage to her as the law forbade it and our love was
simply hopeless. She cried as if her heart would break,
and I, a soldier broke down in tears. But the same old zeal
to surmount the Alps came to me and I thought of the
North where intermarriages between different races is
permitted. At the same time she thought of the same thing
and told me if we both loved there was a way out. I told
her in the North I might claim her as my wife if she would
accept me, a poor soldier, who had nothing to offer her
but my name and a despised race. She refused to see the
picture I was painting of my race. I then reminded her
that she would be dropped by her people and disinherited
by her parents; how she and I, though man and wife,
could not ride in the same car unless she assumed the false
identity as a negress. Her reply was, "I love you better
AS IT IS
25
than mother or father, race or gossip of the world," and
as -Naomi said to Ruth, "Your God shall be my God and
your people my people." Oh, I was the happiest man in
the world! I thank God, even now, for that one hour's
happiness though I shall die to pay for it.
We were in haste to carry out our plans for fear our
love would be detected and we would be separated in
some way. Lillian declared she would die, so I promised
to leave with her on the morrow's train as she and her
mother were to set sail the following week for the sum¬
mer. She thought that a good day, her mother having
planned to do some shopping and she would not ac¬
company her under the disguise that her head ached.
I replied that I had saved one hundred dollars of my
earnings and she said that she had saved three hundred,
thinking that she might be able to help me in some way.
The day arrived and I purchased the tickets. Lil¬
lian wa? ready, her clothes packed and looked as happy
as a lark. If she had not looked so happy I would have
given up the project. Though I felt happy too, there
seemed to be something which warned me to "beware."
Before leaving the house I asked if she was not afraid
to which she smiled and said she believed God was for
us and blessed our love, even if the world condemned it.
This gave us new courage and we started for the train,
but, to our surprise, when we reached there we found
that the train was an hour late. We were afraid to re¬
main at the station together so we went to the home of
a friend who kept a hotel and rented a private room to
keep intruders from knowing we were together.
In the meantime Lillian's mother had forgotten her
purse and returned home to get it. On finding that both
of us were gone she became greatly annoyed, for her
daughter had complained of being sick, and she had left
a hard day's work for me to do. She at once suspected
something or, no doubt the servant had overheard our
plans and had given her this knowledge.
She and a policeman set out at once in search for us.
We were traced to the hotel, and, on being told that I had
26
AS IT IS
paid for a private room for myself and lady, I was at
once arrested. When Lillian was told that she had lost her
fair name and could not regain it unless she said she was
forced there by me she broke down and wept. They also
told her she would have to die—she cried the more and
Would say nothing. Her mother railed and said that I had
ruined her daughter's good name, and it would kill her
and her father. The distress of her mother made her
realize her real love for her. She asked me for advice
and I told her to say I was the cause and had fooled her
there, but she would say nothing. And when the gruff
policeman told her that she must talk or be placed in
jail, she said, "He has told you."
I, wishing to clear her fair name confessed to be guilty
of the nameless crime. Lillian then cried out, "Not so,
he is not to blame." But the officer cried, "Lynch the
Negro brute! So I go to the stake as soon as I finish
this letter, and shall be forced to die with a lie on my
lips to clear her fair name, O sister! Forgive me for the
trouble I have caused you and keep this secret for the
sake of a fair name. Remember I die happy, for I be¬
lieve my Lilly loves me with as pure a love as her name
suggests. She screamed and told me when I was being
beaten by the officers and mob, that although we were
separated in this world, we should be united in heaven.
So I long for the hour to pass that the leader of the mob
has granted me to live. Good-bye my only sister! And
do not be deceived by the alluring cup that may be placed
so near your thirsting lips, and then taken away simply
to laugh you to scorn.
From your devoted brother,
Tom.
After the reading of this most sad missive Mae fell
prostrate on the floor and Charles, with a face that
showed only the deep emotion of sadness after hearing
the letter, stood trembling as a leaf when the wind blows.
Their sadness was too deep for expression and only God
knew the agony of the two.
Rising from the floor where she had fallen, Mae left
AS IT IS
27
the room; while Charles was too troubled even to stir.
How changed he looked;—one could almost see his hair
turning gray, for he felt the scales that had weighed
that poor Negro's fate would soon and very soon weigh
his.
CHAPTER III
The Evilness of Pride
My dear son, your mother has, for the past week, been
greatly troubled about your health, said Mrs. Westmore¬
land. I've just seen the doctor and consulted him con¬
cerning your health. He thinks a change would be best
tor you, and says it must be done at once or your condi¬
tion will soon become serious. And oh! my son, if any
thing fatal should result it will be the death of your poor
mother. Suppose you spend a few months in Atlantic
City?
0 mother, I could not think of leaving home at this
critical time; give yourself no uneasiness about me. Do
you know Aunt Jennie is to leave our home—also Mae?
If you are anxious to serve your son, influence them not
to leave so soon.
What right have I, my son, to ask servants not to leave
my home? You forget my dignity as mistress of this
house and that they are Negroes and not my equal. If
Aunt Jennie wants to leave the home that has been hers
for these years, she has my good wishes; and as for Mae,
I've wanted her to leave for some time, but respect for
Aunt Jennie bade me keep silent. She does not act as
a servant, but tries to act as one destined to fill a daugh¬
ter's place. And the thought of a Negro being so pre¬
sumptuous is unbearable to me.
O dear mother, said Charles, is this all the thanks
Aunt Jennie receives for her toil these many years? You
know that she has been a faithful servant and the same
gs a mother to me; and I feel that you are not only in¬
debted to her, but Mae also. Mae has been your maid
and has spared herself no pains in trying to make herself
AS IT IS
29
accomplished to fulfill her position. She has filled it
with as much dignity and grace as one born for the place.
I've learned to depend upon her as I would upon a sister,
had I been so blessed with one.
I owe Aunt Jennie nothing, neither do I owe this Ne¬
gro girl anything. I have paid them monthly for their
service. And Charles, is this the reason you give for
your carelessness about your health? Mention their
names never again in my presence!
O dear mother! answered Charles, remember the sin
of ingratitude is the greatest sin.
Would you seek to praise them at the sacrifice of my
feelings, Charles? Remember my pride!
Did jou ever read this book, mother?—the Bible? I
have read somewhere in here: Pride goeth before des¬
truction and a haughty spirit before a fall.
What do you mean Charles? Shall you continue to try
to censure me ? Do not add to my fury. I've never been
angry with you my boy. It was I who urged your father
to fight against intermarriage and for the disfranchise¬
ment of the Negro. Of course they tried for a long time
to pass the laws, but they were always tabled until I had
a distant cousin to love a Negro man. They tried to run
pway and get married, so I had your father to spend
thousands of dollars to have the law passed.
Oh! my mother, was it my father whom I've always
honored as a just man, the cause of all this trouble that
is-now existing? He is making of my race murderers
and adulterers and you know what the good book says,
"Righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin is a reproach
to any people." Do you know dearest mother, all this
lynching of which you daily read is caused by that law?
And it is the white race that must suffer. We cannot
see it now, but in years hence we will see and regret it.
Charles tell me about it, as I never thought of the con¬
sequences. I only thought of punishing the Negro who
is progressing so fast and who tries so hard to fill the
places that we white people are filling. Son, it was the
the future white child of whom I was thinking. You
30
AS IT IS
know the Negro race as a whole is progressive and I
thought that some restriction should be placed upon them
to keep them back, and behold, the ditch I have dug, you
pay, we are to fall into it? Show me Charles.
First, mother, as we are the predominant race in intel¬
lect and finance, we should be examples in every good
way, but we are failing in our mission. Now, have you
ever read the "Preamble" of the Constitution of the
United States of America? "We the people of the United
States in order to form a more perfect Union, establish
justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the com¬
mon defense of all, promote the general welfare and se¬
cure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posteri¬
ty, do ordain and establish this Constitution of the
United States of America." Now, mother, how can we
form a more perfect union where there are two races
warring against each other? We give the first offence,
for we make the laws and are the first to break them.
Is there any justice in the mob or lynch law?
Take for granted that the Negro is guilty of the crimes
rf which he is accused—yet I daresay there is one out
of every hundred guilty; have we any right to over step
the law that we ourselves made and lynch them for it?
I say no! And when we do so, it is our race who are the
murderers and their race, the martyrs, when they do not
return evil for evil. What sayeth the word of God?
"Thou shalt not kill." It is their blood that shall be re¬
quired at our hands in the day of judgment. We made
the anti-intermarriage law. What effect has that law
upon the morals of the two races? You know, here in the
south where they have been bound together so closely
by the chain of slavery, and where in many instances we
can hardly tell the race to which any individual belongs,
for you know our blood runs in eight tenths of their veins,
we have a hard problem on our hands, a problem that we,
the white men, will have to solve. You must know that
nature forces us to recognize our blood, for blood is blood
wherever it is found. There seems to be a tie that binds
our hearts together even though our racial pride revolts
A S 1 T I S 31
against it. You see a white man falling in love with a
Negro woman and a Negro man with a white woman
and vice versa.
The law that promises domestic tranquility prohibits
marriages between the races. We are telling the Negro
women that if they will come into our homes as cooks
and serve us as though they were our wives, they shall
have ail but our name, and if the law would permit, they
should have that, when, at the same time, We are the
lawmakers. You know, mother, that is not just. That
race revolts against such conditions. They are only weak¬
lings, hence they will have to succumb. What will be the
final judgment of our race? That we are weighed in the
balance and found wanting. Wanting in Morals. Want¬
ing! Why? Because we loved and gave them all, but
divorced them in name. You find us starting illegitimate
homes in this way and especially on large plantations and
farms in the south. The law winks at this immorality and
nothing is done to suppress it. In many instances we
would start homes upon the right bases were it not for
the law. Now, who is responsible for this? We are. We
on the other hand say: "If the Negro man is found taking
pattern after our example, he shall surely die." We do
not wait for the law to act, but with a mob of blood
thirsty, men lynch or burn him. Often we do not wait to
see if we have the real culprit and sometimes kill four or
five before the right one is finally destroyed. Oh, mother,
this is the condition that is existing in nearly every
Southern state and my father is the very cause. Now we
have the capital and they have the labor. We hire their
daughters and women in our homes and pay them such
small wages that we know ourselves are insufficient as a
livelihood. And in this condition we are found taking
advantage and worse,—judging the entire race by them.
I am told even more, mother. That even in some of their
city schools our men are at the head as directors and in
order for Negro women to secure and hold a position in
those schools, they must be falsely in love with our men
and live almost any kind of life. And such women whose
32
AS IT IS
moral lives are so wretchedly tainted have the position as
leaders. As long as they remain single and sell their
virtue they can have the position. The worthy girl of
their race is seldom employed; and if she should be and
fail to get in the ring she is soon forced to give up her
position for the way to success for her is very hard.
Now mother, I told you that slavery brought us to¬
gether. But slavery separated them from one another
and has left a curse upon their race that it will take cen¬
turies to erase. Slavery bore unto us that evil genius,
prejudice, against the people who once made us rich and
powerful and who were so mysteriously taken from us by
means of war. Christianity will have to cure us of that
sin. The Negro is not jealous of our attainments. He
lather admires them; for, if he didn't he would not try
so hard to imitate them. If we own homes, he owns
homes; if we write books he writes books; if we have
lawyers, doctors, teachers, bankers, electricians, contrac¬
tors, politicians and merchants, we find them in his race,
just as proficient. Often we think he is climbing too fast
for just forty years of freedom and we try to blockade
his progress. But when we place such obstacles in his
way it only makes him stronger and he better fortifies
himself to meet and overcome them. They have colleges
and universities owned and controlled by their own
people. I believe in that part of the scripture that says:
"What God hath joined together, let not man put asun¬
der."
So you see, dear mother, the solution of this problem
which my father made in trying to serve you, is mine to
solve and it is the real reason I decline to leave the city
at this time. Try to think well of me, dear mother, if
you can; for I'm over-burdened with the wrongs that
are daily being committed against that innocent people.
CHAPTER IV
Charles Rejected
As Mae sat in the conservatory arranging some choice
flowers that had been sent to Mrs. Westmoreland, Charles
entered and addressed her:
Dear Miss Mae, if you are not too busy will you oblige
me with a short chat this morning? I see you are quite
busy making preparations to leave the one place that you
have known as home. For years we have been /blessed
with your presence in this place which has been to me the
most beautiful place on earth; but the thought of you
leaving pains me very much and makes this place very
desolate.
If I am not asking too much allow me to beg you to
remain with us just one year longer, as it is very hard to
give you up. You have been the sunshine of this home
and I indeed assure you that in your leaving it we shall
have lost a most valued and worthy inmate. Let me
thank you for the services which you have rendered my
mother for I know you have spared no pains in trying
to make yourself accomplished and well equipped for
your duties, and I feel that mother will lose a most valua¬
ble assistant. If you think your compensation is too
small, only say so and we will consider it a favor to
increase it. Let me entreat you once again to remain with
us longer and I will see what can be done to help your
people.
O, Mr. Westmoreland! I'm indeed grateful to you. Duty
demands my early departure, and I assure you it isn't
half as painful to you as it is to me and my dear old
mammy. She has just said "It's like parting with her
dear old husband who has been dead so long, to leave
34
AS IT IS
the dear old spot that she has called home. ®ut I
told her she could stay if she liked, but I must go. The
promise I make the dead forever rings in my ears.
Do you not know Mae that you could accomplish more
under my roof to help elevate your people where you had
money and influence to aid you than you could a poor
woman, alone in the world, struggling as a bread winner?
I pledge you my life that my millions shall be spent in
any way you may dictate to help foster any cause that
may be for the elevation of your people. You shall sup¬
port schools and colleges all over the country and any
other worthy and race developing enterprises for your
people. I shall dedicate my life to go to the legislature
and repeal some of the laws that are not promoting the
general welfare and securing liberty to ourselves and
our posterity as promised in the constitution.
Sir, I am truly grateful to you for the interest you
manifest in my people, but the work which I must ac¬
complish rests not in the benevolence of a philanthropist
but in us, the Negro. I believe if the Negro race ever
receives the recognition due them as a people they must
make it themselves. It we respect ourselves, others will
respect us and this must be taught to our people. Relig¬
ion, education and industry are the three essential quali¬
ties, and, possessing these, we shall fulfill that passage
in the Bible which says: "Princes shall come out of Egypt
and Ethiopia shall soon stretch forth her hands unto
God.'' I shall ever be grateful to you for your kindness
tut duty calls and I must go.
0, Mae, said Charles, then if you must, remember that
you leave one who would give his life to serve you, for I
love you. O! I love you better and dearer than life. My
name, money and honor I lay at your feet. Will you
accept it and make me the happiest man in the world ?
Mae stood with her hands clasped and eyes partly
closed, thinking what joy those words might have brought
her if this anti-intermarriage gulf were not between
them. She could not dwell too long upon those words as
she encountered the greatest fight of her life. She raised
A S I T I S 35
k0?^a«y?ei klack eyes to his and in words half audible she
said, I thank you sir with all my heart for the offer of
your hand as your wife; but the water of that cup is as
a burning fire to my lips. I could never make you happy.
0, Miss Mae, spare me this pain which you are causing
me! I love you with an uncontrollable love. It will kill
me if not returned. I love you not for your beautiful
face; for beauty dies out as a flower fades. It is the
beauty of your soul I love which never dies. Grant me
just one spark of hope? Promise me that you will try
in the future to love me. 0, do not crush all hope! I shall
go to the north and claim my only idol and no cruel hand
shall come between you and me and take away the only
happiness this cold world offers. I have money and fame
to accomplish my desire. Oh, my darling, do say yes,
I entreat you.
Once more duty and love were placed in the scales, and
after a hard struggle only known to the determined and
brave, Mae stood erect and with a face that showed a
whole volume of sorrow spoke with trembling though
sincere tone, "I am sorry I cannot be your wife. Duty,
the promise I made to my dead brother and the life I
owe to a despised race haunt me as a ghost. Do not en¬
treat me more if you have one spark of love for me as it
will make life so hard to bear. Try to forget me and
remember—I, a Negro woman could never make you
happy. In after years when the sunshine of our life was
being clouded with the real duties of married life, and
our fireside blessed with our little offsprings, could you
love me still? Oh, could you? When in the North the
cruel winds of caste blew the words over the hills and
mountains that your wife was a Negro woman. O re¬
member, sir, society shall close her door against you even
in the North. This same house in which you were born
and which has been in possession of your past generations
for years will not even furnish you shelter any longer
with me as your wife. Then, could I make you happy?
In after years when our girls and boys had grown to be
young men and women, opportunities and the road to
36
AS IT IS
fame and success would be blockaded because of my blood
which flows through their veins. 0, no! I will not let you
make such a sacrifice. Think of the restriction that is
placed on my blood and forget you ever knew me only
as a servant in your home. There is a great work before
me. And when I have proven through my life that a
Negro woman can be virtuous, which is the truest nobili¬
ty, I mean to teach this to those of my race who are less
fortunate, that we as a people care not for social, but
civil, equality. It grieves me but we can never marry and
make each other happy. I shall leave here tomorrow on
my mission to try to help prove that, "A man is a man for
that," and not for the distinction of blue blood, or black
or red blood.
Forgive me, Mr. Westmoreland, if my answer has
caused you pain! Try to see things as I see them and as
I take your hand to say farewell, I trust we shall meet
again in the Great Beyond where we all shall be like
Him."
Farewell Mae, said Charles, with tearful eyes and pain¬
ful heart. His pink face could not help but show the deep
love he bore for her and the pain this parting was causing
him. I would give this life to make you happy; but if you
think a marriage cannot make you happy I must give you
up. But oh! the pain that this separation brings. Do not
be too proud to promise me this: If when you are out in
the cruel, cold world trying to make a living and spending
the life which is so precious to me in helping to elevate
your race, and you or your people need a friend, remember
it would be a pleasure to me to serve you if you will only'
make it known. Will you promise me this before we
part? Then adieu, the only idol of my heart. May this
life hasten to its end so that we may meet in the Great
Beyond, for if not here, there I shall claim you, and you
alone, as my wife.
CHAPTER V
Charles Unburdens His Sorrow
On this sultry hot summer day Charles Westmoreland,
with head bowed in his hand, and thinking of his condi¬
tion for the future utters a deep groan to Heaven for
relief. Taking his hat from the rack he hastens to the
same nook where he always goes to think of the trouble he
must bear. He had been there but a short time, however,
when he was accosted by his friend Gregory, who re¬
plied : "Charles, what in the world is the matter? Are you
going from bad to worse? You had better let those
Negroes alone and treat them* as the rest of us white
folks do. Treat them as brutes or chattels and stop trying
to elevate them to the same level with us. You look like
one escaped from the grave. Tell me all that has happened
since we met last.
I cannot tell you all but I will tell you this much: that
Mae has left our home and refused my hand after I
offered to carry her to the North and make her my wife.
I am a miserable man. I do not know what to do. Should
you hear of my death do not be at all surprised.
What do you mean, replied Gregory. The woman is not
born that I would kill myself about. Still you think of
taking your life about a Negro woman when you have
her entirely in your power. Find another white man in
the World who would believe a Negress virtuous except
you! Why not use the woman that you have in your
power? Then you could go on and enjoy life as the rest
of us men are doing.
Do you know, Gregory, that the love that I have for
Mae makes me hold her more sacred than I do my own
mother? Nothing but honor for that woman shall come
fio'T'^e. __
Well, there is no cure for you, said Gregory. You
must pine out your miserable existence. And if you
keep the gait you have, you will not have very long to
38
AS IT IS
pine. I wish I could see the Negro beauty. Where has
she gone ?
She is not what you would term beautiful, only in her
own soul, said Charles. She is in the town of H
0, Gregory, tell me what to do or I shall die. Save this
life, if you love me, for I love her dearer than life.
Wel£ Charles, I do not see what can be done. I must
be off. I shall see you soon, Charles. Good-bye. You
take my advice and stop trying to elevate these Negroes
to our standing.
Gregory, if I only knew what to do, I would give all
that I have. Well, one thing I can do if I cannot get any
relief. I can end this miserable existence by jumping
into the river. Good-bye, Mae, my only source of hap¬
piness. It seems that fate is truly against us. May
happiness be yours. As for me, nothing but misery shall
be mine. Good-bye, my darling! May we meet in heaven.
I am going to the river and end my life. There can be no
harm of my ending this life. The river alone will sym¬
pathize with us. Here on the banks of the old river
where Mae and I shared so much of our childhood hap¬
piness; where we/quarreled and made up; where the
sweetest moments of my life were spent, I will end my
sorrow! Into the deep waters he plunged to await the final
command.
CHAPTER VI
Mrs. Westmoreland's Sorrow.
Oh! My son! cried Mrs. Westmoreland on hearing
the fate of her son. Why should you kill yourself and
leave your mother? Yes, here" is a note he has left me.
Good-bye darling mother and forgive your only son.
I could not live and be happy, so I must end it all in the
deep waters. Do not try to find my body but let the
waters forever have it and the rippling waves sing the
3orrow of my heart. I loved you mother, but I loved
another as dearer. Goodbye. You will fmrl ir-y w.Tl in
the safe. Only remember me as your heartbroken boy.
Oh my God, what does he mean? Surely he cannot
be dead and I will not believe it. And who can he love
dearer than me? He never went in society, hence there
can be no other. 0, I wonder if it was that Negro
girl; for as much as I loved my son, I would rather see
him dead than to marry her. I can't stand it. No, I
cannot! I love him so much, my darling son! My ideal
boy!
What is the matter with you, my mistress? You sure¬
ly look bad. What can me do to comfort you? Is it
true my master has killed himself? In an undertone—,
1 told my master all dis would be the result of him pass¬
ing dat dar law, and now all dis trouble has come to us.
After answering the door bell, Diana returned to tell
her mistress that Mr. Gregory wished to see her.
0, show him to me, for it is he I have been wanting
to see to ask information concerning my son.
Dar now, said Diana aside, my mistress will find it all
out. I knew he loved dat gal.
Your honor, Mrs. Westmoreland, said Gregory, is
Charles present.
Oh Mr. Sinclair, have you not heard of my son's death?
0 sir he has killed himself. Can you-not give me any
40
AS IT IS
light on the subject? Read this she said as she handed
Mr. Sinclair the letter.
Oh, my heavens, exclaimed Mr. Gregory, surely Charles
had more sense than to kill himself, and yet Mrs. West¬
moreland, when Charles and I were together last, he
was very despondent; so much so that I heard him wish
for death to come and end his miserable life. I loved
Charles as dearly as I wcruld a brother. I tried to show
him that life was not so burdensome and he had much
yet to be thankful for. It was on Thanksgiving Day
when we had this conversation. He said he had seen
thirty one and this was the first one he had seen for
which he had no desire to give thanks. I told him of
his successful business career and of his pleasant home
life, and indeed he had all that any other man would call
a prosperous life. And above all, he had the weapon of
power within his grasp and if he chose, he could use it
and bring about his desired happiness. You know, Mrs.
Westmoreland, "Money is power, and power can bring
about one's desires." But Charles had learned to look
at life like the Negroes, that is to say, in the way the
bible teacher used to see things; but you know when the
doctrine of Christ was taught and practised the world
was not as it is now. If the white people connected
with the proud Anglo-Saxon race, practiced Christianity,
it would have made us lose the pride that we white folks
hold so dear. We would have to practice as well as
preach. Out of one blood God created all mankind.
Then we would be bound to practice the Golden Rule,
even with the Negro, "To do unto others as we would that
others do unto us"; and you see when we read the bible
and compare the principle that £0 to make up our proud
old race with the fundamental principles of the Bible,
we are placed in a sea of doubt.
Yea, we have a great problem on hand and one that
will take a wiser head than mine to solve. We sometimes
call it the Negro problem because we know other nations
are able to see only the veneering. But madam, when
we weigh the facts we cannot help but see that although
AS IT IS
41
it is the Negro's problem, it is ours to solve.
You and Charles see things alike said Mrs. Westmore¬
land, but if my son failed to trust me with his secrets, I
shall not ask you to have more confidence in me than he.
Oh, my son! My son. My punishment is greater than
I can bear, alone in this world. I cannot help but go to
the river and listen to the rippling waves where my pre¬
cious was buried. Oh, Mr. Sinclair, do what you can
to help me find him and "May the God he loved guide my
feeble effort." Oh, Charles, I feel that I am partially
the cause of your tragic death.
Whatever you have done Mrs. Westmoreland, remem¬
ber the love of your family, the love of a race, and the
pride of your name is unspeakably dear to our people.
I will leave you now, but remember I shall leave no stone
unturned to bring you some light that will be some satis¬
faction if not a solace in your deep trouble.
CHAPTER VII
Mae's Trials In Life.
Two months have passed, says Mae since I left my
childhood home, and I have nothing to look upon but ter¬
rible pain. I sometimes feel that my task of all other
women in the world is hardest. When I think of what
is before me to be accomplished, I cannot help but re¬
peat the Psalm of an ideal life:
I dreamt a dream the other day
When longing for some rest;
A place where I might go to stay,
Free from care, toil and strife.
A place unlike this busy world,
Where want and trouble prevail;
But where life's battle is only a dream,
Enchanted with festivities.
I found this place in my dream,
Not desirable as I thought;
For where no trouble and care prevail,
No Happiness can take part.
No realities of life were there,
A good time was all I saw;
But in the den of Idler's lot,
I found it the devil's workshop.
No heavy crosses there were borne,
No heaven could be obtained;
Contentment was their idle dream,
Advancement could ne'er be seen.
How tired of this I soon became,
Where I had nothing to do;
No lofty thoughts to enter my mind,
For they were blighted too.
AS IT IS
43
Woman had no sphere in that world,
For life was all beauty;
But when I woke how proud was I,
That life is only duty.
Yes life is one duty, and I shall do mine in as hopeful
a way as possible, for I am taught, "That it is good that
a man both hopes and quietly waits for the Salvation of
the Lord."
My first desire after installing myself here as a silent
force to help alleviate the crimes and unjust punishments
that are daily confronting my people, was to secure a
school, not in the busy city where opportunities are so
much greater than in the rural districts; but where home
life is daily neglected by the parents in the various
homes, partially from lack of means to sustain those
homes. Here I found ten or twelve people living in a
little two or three room hut, curtained off by sheets used
for screening, and I happened to be an inmate of one of
these homes. If all were ladies in these rooms, our condi¬
tion would not have been so embarassing, but, sad to
say we were not. Such are the conditions all over the
farming section of the Southland, so I am told. I asked
my landlady if she would speak to the owner of the plan¬
tation and ask him to give us just one more room to our
little home. She replied that she had spoken often; had
begged and pleaded with her husband to move if they
did not have better conditions, and indeed I am remind¬
ed that our condition is better than any other tenants
on the farm, and we have more room now than time to
lemain in it. So you see I can do nothing, but I feel sor¬
ry for you Miss Mae. That is why I gave you my best
bed alone with my two girls and two small boys.
Yes, and I am grateful to you for it, yet madam, this
one denial brings to my mind these words: "The wrath
of men, God sometimes uses to make it praise Him."
\VTiafc do you mean ? she said to me.
I mean this,—As good hardworking servants, you are
denied even those surroundings that go to make uj
44
AS IT IS
healthy people. Your landlord knows that it is unhealthy
as well as indecent to live piled up in this way and yet he
expects your honest day's work and will not allow you
the comforts necessary to a strong body to do this work.
Now when I have taught your sons and daughters daily
in physiology, I believe that they will feel like myself in
that that the only way to secure these comforts is to own
them. I feel that the Negro youth will be determined to
secure for themselves homes by purchasing farms and
ether property, thus adding wealth, which is power to
their race. So my pain is not without solace even tho
J may not live to enjoy it. Madam I notice up above
here a very pretty large white house, who lives in it ?
O, the boss man lives ,in it Miss, and he has an old
widowed colored lady staying there who has five children.
One of them is a young and very beautiful girl and the
boss man is in love with her, so the girl tells. He takes
care of the entire family, even to her half grown broth¬
ers simply to gain the attention of this young girl. They
do not have to work hard in the sun as we do, for their
last want is granted by him. He is also director of the
school you wiU teach. Miss Mae you had better be care¬
ful how you treat those children, if you want to keep
your job.
0 madam, "Jobs do not make me; I make jobs!" I
shall try to make those children love me, not because I
fear ,the director but because I w'ould like to help the
young girl. I mean to be a silent factor in helping to show
her the pitfall I see before her. This white man cannot
marry her, and how could a mother be so base as to con¬
spire with that low white brute to take advantage of
that girl simply to ease the poverty of them all ? "Who
tan find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above
ribies" are the words of the wise one. Tell me is he a
man of family? He looks quite old.
0 miss, he has never been married. He says he could
never love any but .a Negro woman, and you know he
cannot marry her. He used to live with another Negro
woman and after she had sold herself to him, he was kind
A S I T I S 45
as long as youth and beauty lasted; but as she grew old,,
began to break and lose her youth, he became tired of
her and left her to die a miserable beggar and occupy a
drunkards grave.
Oh! such crimes and disgrace against my people be¬
cause of their ignorance and poverty. The thing that is
needed is Christianity—taught them by example and
precept, said Mae. Already I have started a little booklet
that I shall put in every home that I can, and this book¬
let shall contain a "want" column; for I believe the great¬
est need of the masses of our people are true leaders
along all lines. If you desire I shall read you my first
column;
Wanted Leaders:
Mothers in the home. If this race which is restricted
by all races is to fill her place in the category of history
as an industrious, thrifty, worthy people,* it must first
start in the home with the mother who is the moulder
of the home. The seed of industry morality and intellect
must begin in the embryo. If we wish to cultivate
and improve a plant, we start by improving the soil and
and then we sow the seed and wait for the developments
cf nature. After the little seed has peeped out in this
world in the form of a plant, we begin our work of cul¬
tivating the plant; seeing that grass and weeds do not
choke it. The more care taken, the better result. So
with the little plants of our homes. We start with the
ground which is father and mother. . So often we hear it
said, "The Negro race is devoid of character, and virtue
is a principle not existing in their face. We have heard
of kind and benevolent friends who after giving their
time and attention to help the advancement of the race
became discouraged when they read of the crimes and
assaults that are daily allotted to our race. But if they
would stop for one moment and trace the individual who
is accused, they would readily see that it is not the Negro
who is the real producer of the > crimes, but their own
race. In every case (except those in which the white
man'blackens his face to impersonate a Negro) nine out
46
AS IT IS
of ten of the criminals are tainted with white blood. Now
there are laws of our country which say that anyone
having one drop of Negro blood in him is a Negro. Since
one drop makes him a Negro and according to law a
Negro cannot have a legitimate drop, all illegitimate
drops are a curse and sin against the race. One writer
pictures the Negro race as a boquet of flowers containing
various colors, but I say the various colors may beautify
but they are destroying the moral core of the race. When
we can improve the fathers and mothers so that they will
not bring about this mixture, then we will have a cure
for the moral depravity. I mean to say when the white
man is improved morally so that he will not go among
an ignorant people whom they have burdened with pover¬
ty because of the small wages they pay them for their
labor and sow illegitimate seeds that in after years when
they have matured are spoken of in the papers as Negro
brutes, we will have the solution and this solution rests
not with the Negro race but with the white.
Is the Negro responsible for mixing of the races in
the south? I say, no. Everybody will agree that the
mixing started in the days of slavery and we were then
the white race's chattels. It was then if our mothers was
desired by one of them she was bought and they had the
entire right to use her as they chose. The only right
she had in the transaction was to submit. Failing to do
this she was punished. A child born under those most
cruel circumstances was a Negro. Now, what good could
we expect of such a child ? And if there is any good to be
found in it, who is responsible for that good? Is it the
father who cruelly forced the woman to submission or the
woman who believed such actions wrong and suffered
punishment in many instances and even death before she
would yield? I leave the query with you to answer. One
might say that the mixing continues since slavery. Who
is responsible now? Study the individuals who bring it
about now and you will find that they lack intelligence
and means. Poverty plays its part. 'Tis said, "When
ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." If an ignorant
AS IT IS 47
people just fifty-six years out of slavery must bear the
Sm a s^ron&er people, then it is folly to be wise.
When the mothers of the homes are so intellectually
strong that they see and realize the evil of these condi¬
tions, then the race will be able to help the white man
solve the moral problems. Oh, the need, we have for
strong women who know their mission and are ready
to accomplish it! And in the language of Meredith:
The Mission of genius on earth! To uplift,
Purify and confirm by its own gracious gift,
The world in despite of the world's dull endeavor
To degrade and drag down and oppose it forever.
The mission of genius; To watch and to wait,
To renew, to redeem and to regenerate.
The mission of woman on earth; To give birth
To the mercy of heaven descending on earth.
The mission of woman permitted to bruise
The head of the serpent and sweetly infuse
Through the sorrow and sin of earth's registered
curse,
The blessing which mitigates all; born to nurse
And to soothe and to solace, to help and to heal
The sick world that leans on her.
Wanted—teachers as leaders.
When we view and review the lives of our present
teachers not in the work not as moulders, but as grafters;
not as character builders, but as character destroyers;
not as worthy examples but as bad imitators, we will at
once see that this line of leaders is vastly in want. With
all due respect for those who are fulfilling their mission
with all credit to their heavenly father, we class you not
in this column. If anyone can reach the child's heart
and help to keep the grass and weeds from destroying
the life of the little plant, it is the teacher. He certainly
plays an important part in helping to mould that child
into a great woman or man. If he fails in this important
mission then his work is all in vain. The example set
by the teacher is one most lasting, and it certainly helps
48
AS IT IS
to influence the child, either to the right and just path or
the wrong. So you see it is necessary for a teacher to
be morally, religiously and intellectually inclined.
If our want column would end here I would feel that
my task was only partially accomplished; but sad to say,
we are still in want of men to fill the most sacred positions
left on earth by our heavenly father to be filled:—
Preachers, wanted, wanted, wanted!
Of all the many callings this field of labor stands in
greatest need. And when we compare the numbers that
are daily trying to lead God's righteous flock, we will see
that there are not numbers that we lack; there being more
preachers than we have churches to supply. But yet we
are in need of preachers who are proficient in morals, in¬
tellect and Christianity; preachers who are willing to take
God's yoke upon them and learn of Him; preachers who
are willing to serve and not be served; preachers to
live clean lives and teach by example as well as precept.
When God's sacred church shall be filled by clean preach¬
ers there will be no trouble to secure clean men and
women to fill the pews; and then the church will have
fulfilled its mission, to redeem the world for Christ.
Another line of workers is also needed:—Clean politi¬
cians, who cannot be bought but are willing to serve for
the good of their country and fellowmen. I believe when
we can have clean men at the head of our political
affairs we will then have one way to show the principles
of right that exists in our race. We need men who will
not sell the entire welfare of their race for the selfish
lavors they may receive.
It is sad to think how some of our men who stand as
leaders in the political world will bow to Baal simply to
secure for themselves or their friends a job. In this
language you may get my meaning:—
The papers of the past few months have been filled
with politics. The politicians, I am told, are the ad¬
vocates of the law.
AS IT IS
49
And then I began to think of our law,
How just in itself it reads.
You know of evils done under the law,
And wrongs covered over as right.
Our law doesn't provide for mobbing a man,
Without a jury or judge,
And yet our mayors and governors
Will cater to such wishes.
And then if they are asked the why
They will tell you the simple truth;
That politics is the only cause
I must do this to be re-elected.
It is politics that is running the schools
And making so many bad boys and girls;
For politics are giving some of our teachers jobs
Without once questioning why they are there.
To ask if he is competent or morally good
Has come to be an idle past
For politics have such a sway
That will hold him to the last.
Oh that the politics of today
Were run by men of good principles!
Then religion would have a sway
In making a people better.
I shall put a pamphlet on the market each month and
employ agents to sell them to all who are able to buy
and give to the poor, copies of them. In this way I hope
to help some one.
Now, madam, I will not detain you longer from your
work.
CHAPTER VIII.
Gregory Seeks Mae's Aid.
"It seems as if ages have passed since my boy was here,
and it is indeed hard that no trace of him can be found. I
am no more the woman I once was. Oh, if Mr. Gregory
would bring some news of my idol," said Mrs. West¬
moreland.
As she looked toward the door she beheld Mr. Gregory
about to enter.
Oh, sir, she said, have you any news of my son? This
silence is more than I can bear.
Charles' mother did not know that he cared for another.
My only earthly idol! Why has heaven dealt with me so
unjustly? He was taken so cruelly and mysteriously, Mr.
Gregory. Oh speak! You are holding something from
me.
Would to Charles' God Mrs. Westmoreland, I had some¬
thing to tell you that would serve as a balm to your deep
trouble. But sad to say, I have not one word, not even
one hope of ever finding Charles. I am at a loss what to
do next. The river has almost been drained in search for
him and I have advertised for him in every newspaper. I
have employed the shrewdest detectives to hunt for him
and all availeth nothing. Somehow I believe that young
Negro girl who was once in your employ may give us
sor^e light on the mystery. Now if yon could find her
and have her come and advertise in the papers for
Charles, if he is living, I believe he would come home.
Mr. Gregory, if that is your only hope of finding my
son, then I fear he will never come home. Already I
have learned to hate that girl as I believe she is somewhat
connected with my son's sad trouble. But death will be
sweeter to me than to ask a favor of her. I despise my¬
self for being so shortsighted as to allow such a lovable
character to be raised around the same hearth with him.
I hold nothing against my boy for loving that girl, for he
A S I T IS 51
just couldn't help it; to know her means to love her. How
happy I would be if she was a white girl and knew that
he possessed her love. Her service to me as maid was un¬
equalled. I have had ten white maids since she left me, but
not one has filled the place with half as much credit. She
was so thoughtful of my least wants, so energetic and
trustworthy. I noticed the attention my son paid her and
the respect he had for her. But she was a Negro and
I never thought that he loved her. As much as I love
him, I'd rather see him dead than to know that he would
marry her. Fancy myself being a grandmother of ne¬
groes. ^ It would kill me! 0, no! I cannot help but have
this pride that my son condems.
Well, Mrs. Westmoreland, we will dwell no longer 011
a topic that is so painful to you, as I must go. I have some
business to see after and I must leave the city on the
evening train. Since I cannot get you to help me secure
the girl's service, then I must know what she knows
about Charles. So I hope you well until I see you again.
As Gregory was leaving the Westmoreland mansion
these were the thoughts that dwelt upon his mind:—I
have been dying to see this woman that played havoc with
Charles' life, and yet Charles has asked me to treat her
like a lady; that all depends upon the opinion I form of
her. I may teach her the lesson of the white man's supre¬
macy.
At this moment Gregory pulled out his watch and find¬
ing that it was ten minutes to train time, rushed to the
depot. He purchased his ticket and jumped on the train.
How impatient he was. It seems as if this train will not
carry me fast enough, said he. If I could find the girl and
learn of Charles, I would be satisfied! By the by, I
failed to learn the girl's whereabouts. I only know that
she is located near the town "H " and teaching in the
country That is a very poor way to find her, however.
Well I will inquire of the county Superintendent, and, in
this way I may learn of her whereabouts. ,
The train was not very long m running this distance,
52 AS IT IS
and before he could realize it, it had reached its destina¬
tion.
Gregory was soon aroused by the conductor notifying
them to be off for the town of "H and as he rushed
from the car he was asked by a mulatto negro boy: "Take
my cab, sir, please? Where do you want to go," said
he.
That is the question. I am a stranger here and in
search of a young lady who teaches school out in the
country; her name is Mae Smith. She has only been here
about two years. I would like to find her very much.
I know the young lady, said Jerry, if she is colored. I
have often carried her out to her work. But first tell me
this: Do you mean to put her to any trouble ?
Oh no! I am only a friend who wishes to render her
service. Why did you ask me that? You looked so earnest,
said Gregory.
Well, I know Miss Mae very well: she is an honest good
woman and I would not like to see anyone do her harm.
I first thought that you might be a policeman, and if you
were, I would not carry you. It will cost you five dollars
to make the trip as the roads are very rough.
Don't mention the cost and bear me safely as quickly as
possible. About how long will it take us to make the trip ?
It will take us a half day to go there. Do you know
Miss Mae's people, asked Jerry? She told me she had a
mother.
Well, tell me what you know of Miss Mae, said Gregory,
to pass away the time.
I don't know anything of her except that she is a good
woman and has done a great work in that community in
trying to uplift her people. She has organized Sunday
Schools, Bible bands, Mothers' meetings, temperance
unions and everything that tends to uplift the people
morally, religiously and intellectually. And indeed you
can see the result of her teaching because the girls have
stopped using snuff, and the boys have stopped using
whiskey; and I am told they are saving their money and
buying little homes. She has also organized among the
AS IT IS
53
men a protective league. This league is to establish sen¬
timent against lawlessness. And the men are not com¬
mitting crimes as they are accustomed to do. I heard
some of the white men say that she has done more good
in helping the men to be lawabiding citizens than all of
the officers of the law employed in that country. The
people down in that section of the country are said to be
very, very rough. But everybody has noticed the marked
change in the people. Why sir, the men have even stopped
using profane language in the presence of their families,
and indeed all the people declare she is an angel sent to
dwell among them.
Now, we are here! Shall I go in and tell her you want
to see her? What's your name, sir?
Simply tell her its a "friend"'who wants to see her, said
Gregory, as she will not know me by name.
As the cab boy entered the school, Gregory sat in a
wonder, as he did not know whether Mae had ever remem¬
bered seeing him at Mrs. Westmoreland's. Now what
must I tell her, for if I fail to make the right speech, I
may not be able to secure her as my-ally in trying to
find Charles. If she was an ordinary one of her race,
I could easily fool her into anything; but a woman who is
able to use such influence over an entire community as
to stop them from habits that were almost inborn in them
must indeed be no ordinary personage* Here she comes
and indeed I am almost losing my head. I wonder if she
will use that same magnetic influence over me?
At tins moment Mae had reached the cab where she was
told that she was wanted.
I was informed, sir, that you wanted to see me and
that you brought me a message from my dear old mammy.
1 hope she is well or do you bring me sad news?
Your mother is well, said Gregory, but the business is
of such a nature that it will take me some time to talk it
over with you.
Then sir, I will have to ask you to wait about a half
hour as it will then be time to dismiss school.
I was told, said Gregory, that the owner of this farm
54
AS IT IS
lives in the large white house on the roadside. I shall
drive up there and see if I can secure a lodging place
for the night.
Mae went back to the school room with heart not full
of sorrow as had been her lot just a few minutes ago; for
when she was told of her dear old mammy's good health
she was at once made happy. But what could this man
want with her. She remembered having seen him before
at Mrs. Westmoreland's but she could not think of the
basiness he might have with her. It was now past time
for her to dismiss the school, and as the children rushed
from the schoolroom she called Annie to wait for her.
She stood wondering whether there was some great crisis
in her life ahead of her.
Shall I get you a cool drink, Miss Mae, said Annie? You
look so tired and careworn.
Yes my dear, it will be quite refreshing right now.
The child rushed to the spring which was about a
quarter of a mile from the school house and in a short
while Mr. Gregory entered.
I have indeed a sad, a very sad message to deliver to
you, said he. I guess you have heard of the death of Mr.
Charles Westmoreland or at least his disappearance. His
mother is almost crazy and I have come to see if you will
return to the Westmoreland home and help us in our
search for him; and if we are fortunate to find him, that
you will return and make him happy. You are the cause
of all this trouble and I believe it will be the death of
Mrs. Westmorland.
I can't see, sir, how you would accuse me of this trouble;
and as for returning to the Westmoreland home, that,
I cnever do. My people stand sadly in need of my
service. We are only given four or five months schooling
here during a year and to break into a term and cut it
short two of those months would seem as though I had no
regard for my duty. Mrs. Westmoreland is Mr. Charles'
mother and if he will not return for her he will not for
me.
Do you know, Miss Mae, said Gregory, that you could
A S I T I S 55
have enjoyed life better by accepting Charles' offer as
mistress of one of his country residences where you would
have had servants and everything to make life enjoyable?
You know Charles could not marry you and live in the
southland, but he could have made you happier than you
are down here in these bottoms trying to uplift a lot of
heathen. There isn't a negro man in the world who
could give you half as much as Charles is able to give
you, nor could that little country school pay as much.
Why waste your time in this way?
Stop, sir! said Mae. What do you take me for? Do
you think I would sell myself for a living or a support?
It was your fathers who made the law which placed the
great gulf between Charles and me. Now do you think
I would sacrifice my qualities to satisfy anyone's whims?
I am indeed sorry for Mrs. Westmoreland, but I can never
return to her home again.
Well, said Gregory, if you are sorry, prove it by accep¬
ting all that Charles can offer, as the law forbids other
than that. Accept a position as cook or mistress of one
of his homes.
Leave me sir! You are a villian. If Charles Westmore¬
land has employed you to attempt to drag me down to the
level that so many of the poor, ignorant women of our
race by that fascinating tale have been drawn, then I
am here to tell you that you are playing with the wrong
one. You forget "that the mills of the gods grind slowly,
but they grind exceedingly fine." This affair is like the
Grecian horse on your hands, and you stand at the gate
and cry for admittance. But the negro women have been
fooled so often by this horse that the best thinking
negroes are asking for a minute examination of it before
they are willing to admit him into the city. I hope you
understand the moral of this story. You have read it, I
laresay, in the Grecian history, where, during one of
heir wars, there was a city, Troy, well protected by high
rails every effort being made on the part of the leading
recian generals to enter the city, but in vain. So they
lilt a large horse and placed soldiers on the inside.
56
AS IT IS
They then took a small boy, put upon him the task of de¬
ceiving their enemies by crying and telling how his
countrymen had deserted him and left him a poor fugi¬
tive. He begged to be admitted with his horse to the city.
His story was believed. As soon as the boy and horse
were admitted, the soldiers who were hidden inside the
horse, began to rush out and the gates were thrown wide
open to the Greeks who entered and ruined the city.
The negro woman is a moral citadel to the progress of
the negro race. Her integrity and firmness of character
is her safeguard. Religion and education are the walls
that are daily being biult. The low, debauched white man
represents the Greeks, the anti-intermarriage law repre¬
sents the Grecian horse. The white man claims he is
in love with a negro woman; he would marry her if the
law allowed; will spend his money on her; give her those
things that the negro men are not able to give. He uses
every way possible to be admitted to the city. He forms
labor unions in which the negro is not allowed; he dis¬
franchises the negro in order that his vote will amount
to but Jittle in the law. He passes the Jim-crow law bar¬
ring him from riding on the same cars with the white
man. The uneducated whites continue to make liberties
belonging to a citizen a subject of social equality. They
seem to be in dread fear of this issue and try to make it
as fearful as they would a case of leprosy, and at the same
time are willing that colored women prepare their meals,
colored waiters serve them, colored porters sit or remain
in the same cars with them, colored mail clerks handle
their mail and valuables, colored nurses care for them
when sick, and even that their tender little babies should
be nurtured by colored mothers and yet when the thought
of riding in the same car or stopping at the same hotel
or enjoying any privilege at the same place as the white
man enters, it fills them with a nightmare which warns
them of the future of their race. They know that!
freedom is not a social question. We are equal only in
rights. You will take every other race in the world as
your social equal but when it comes to the race of people!
A S I T I S 57
eight-tenths of whom have your bl'ood in their veins, you
say to the world he is unfit to enjoy the same liberties
or privileges that any other citizen enjoys.
He has gone on the battlefield and fought as hard as
any other citizen to make this the greatest country on
the globe. If you speak of us thru your newspapers, it is
only the sins and crimes of our race that you publish as
0 whole. Very seldom you speak of the attainments of the
negroes. Your histories even fail to record the daring
deeds that are accomplished by the negro men in war.
And why? Because you are trying hard to build senti¬
ment with other races against the Negro. Foreigners
have but one way to know the Negro or of finding out
his attainments and that is by observation. Seeing the
Negro as an inmate of hotels, seeing him travel on trains,
not as porters, waitresses or cooks in a hotel, for the in¬
telligent Negro, as a rule, is not found there. Andyouknow
you have blocked every possible way for the Negro to
make sentiment for his people; his wages are so small
that he is unable to do what he ought to for his family,
and that will be another point in gaining admittance to
the city. But I ask in a loud voice for an X-ray exami¬
nation, not of the Grecian horse but of the Anglo-Saxon
horse, before he will be admitted to the city.
0 Miss Mae, said Gregory, why are you so hard on us ?
1 daresay no one would look on these things in the light
you do. You know you cannot hold us responsible for
existing circumstances as our fathers made these laws
and we are only forced to keep them.
Then sir, keep them, said Mae, for I as one, will re¬
main with my own people. Do not use your vain efforts
to make me break the law of chastity.
You are, said Gregory, the only one of your race who
is trying to live honestly. I feel sorry for you- as I know
it will be a very short time before you will get tired of
the struggle and fall with the tide.
1 am unable to say sir, what will occur or not occur m
the course of time, said Mae, but I will be one woman who
will prove to the world that it is the Negro's problem and
58
AS IT IS
the white man's solution. And sir, just as I am struggling
to live a chaste life, I believe there are others among my
race who have lived and are living clean lives, all they
need is a little encouragement.
Then, said Gregory, they are the Negroes who were
found in slavery time, and not this younger generation.
Stop! said Mae, you are not liberal enough in your
judgment to recognize the efforts the struggling young
generation is making. Because we will not yield to the
temptation that such brutes as you are setting before
us, with all due respect to our mothers who lived pure
lives during the dark days of slavery, when they had no
right over either their bodies or minds and could neither
rest nor labor for their own pleasure or gain; when not
even their word could be taken as evidence; when they
could not learn to read or write without having to forfeit
their forefingers as a penalty, or do anything for our own
improvement, you say all manner of untruthful things
about us. And when in days of slavery their masters
wished them in a lustful way, some of them became their
masters concubines, and his own children became slaves
and were sold as chattel to the highest bidder. If oui
parents objected to such usury they were punished by
the overseer and often whipped to death.
Are you willing to admit that during those days
there were some who lived chaste lives? Then you are
compelled to admit that those mothers were not only the
mothers of virtue, but were womanly, gentle and Christ¬
like. Now the children born in those dark days were
either born in lasciviousness or were children of martyrs
of virtue. Sir, I will leave it with you to say who is re¬
sponsible for the virtue that existed, and who is respon¬
sible for the lasciviousness that existed in the child—
the mother who revolted against such a life or the father
who forced her to submit by the whip ? Surely you could
not expect all of our race to be pure when we are now
reaping the harvest of wild oats that your fathers have
sown! I think our race needs to be commended that the
harvest contains no more tares than it does, as well as the
A S I T I S 59
kind and benevolent whites who have given money to
foster causes that have aided in uplifting the race and
destroying those things that have tended downward in
our people. If you would see my race as I see it, it would
be an instance of "Thou art thy brother's keeper." Af¬
ter emancipation four million slaves who had not learned
to Jove work or to know that it was a duty, but had only
worked because they feared punishment; and those who
had no idea of self support were turned loose largely de¬
pending upon the same people who had held them in bon¬
dage and who were almost as poor as themselves. They
were turned out in ignorance and superstition with no
way of earning a livelihood except thru the operations
of their ex-masters who thought it no sin to cheat and
defraud them out of their earnings because they once
belonged to them. And through all this you find us ad¬
vancing step by step. The prejudice, insults and discri¬
minations are but stepping stones to our progress.
In the state of Macedon where lynching is the blackest,
where they will lynch a woman, and where a negro man
is lynched if he attempts to strike a white man. Even
some of the governors, senators and high officials are
ready to say that the Negro is brutal and uneducatable,
and virtue is a stranger to him, and yet you find him co¬
lonizing and building prosperous and flourishing little
towns with Negro mayors and officials. You will find in
that State twelve or thirteen banks, owned and controlled
by Negroes.
'Tis true the 245 years spent in slavery were full of
sad experiences and bitter privations from which we
wish to turn our faces, and even erase the picture from
memory's pages, but we cannot help be proud^ of the
facts that history will record, which will be a credit to the
Negro youth, that his ancestors served their masters
faithfully, that even during the Revolutionary War when
this country was fighting for its independence, it was the
Negro who fell first in defence of his masters country,
in the war of 1812 history fails to record the negroes
wno took up their arms and fought side by side with
60
AS IT IS
their masters against the British. In the fratricidal
struggle between the North and South, the Negro did
not only show to the world that he was worthy of any
trust put upon him, but took up arms and fought valiant¬
ly for his own freedom.
Sir, I would like to ask you what you can say of the
Negro in the island of the Atlantic, Hayti, when those
people tired of slavery and oppression, armed themselves
and with Touissant L'Overture a Negro general as leader
threw off the French yoke of bondage and won for his
race fame, that no other general had won. Allow me to
repeat the words of Wendell Phillips: Recollect History!
There never was a race held in chains that absolutely
vindicated its own liberty but one. There never was a
serf or a slave whose own sword cut his own chains but
one. It was not the blue-eyed Saxon, for they were
serfs for three centuries and they waited till commerce,
Christianity and a different law had melted their fetters.
Neither did France, neither did the Northern or Southern
races of Europe have that bright spot on their escutcheon
that they put an end to their own slavery.
It was the black—the only race in the record of his¬
tory that after a century of oppression retained vigor
enough to write the charter of its Emancipation in the
blood of the dominant race, despised, calumniated and
slandered. San Domingo is the only instance in history
where a race with indestructible love of justice, after
serving a hundred years of oppression, rose up under
their own brave leader and with their own hands abol¬
ished slavery from their own soil.
Just the history of yesterday will tell you of the Rough
Riders in the battle of San Juan, how they were saved
from the Spanish by the daring bravery of the Negro
soldiers who won the fame of that war. Sir, I have only
to say to you that "We are rising."
Remember that in just fifty-six years we are owning
over five hundred neswpapers, forty-one banks, one hun¬
dred and sixty-one schools and colleges. We are send¬
ing out thirty-two thousand teachers, have twenty thou-
A S I T I S . 61
sand learning trades, two million children in common
schools, ninety thousand farms, three hundred seventy-
five thousand own homes, and one hundred million dollars
m church property; and if we continue to climb as we
have, we will overstep persecution and discrimination, and
will reach the position that God has'designed that we
should reach—that of intelligent and noble people.
Then Miss Mae, I cannot secure your service in the
work said Gregory.
As I have said before, No,; said Mae. The duty I owe
to the dead speaks louder than the duty I owe to the liv¬
ing just now. ,
Then Madam, said Gregory, with a look of anger, if
you will not willingly consent you will be forced to it.
And it will not be long before you will be singing, "Coon,
Coon, Coon, I wish my color would fade."
I will listen to you no longer, the child is returning
with the water and I hope never to see such a heartless
man as you again, said Mae.
Will you not say good-bye on parting said Gregory. I
promised Charles I would treat you with politeness. ' Po¬
liteness costs but little, said Mae. Good-bye!
Annie you are here with the water. Come, we must
be off in a hurry.
0 Miss Mae, said Annie you look so frightened, has
that old white man worried you or did he tell you that
some of your people were sick?
1 am thinking dear of the condition of our people all
over the land, the prejudice of the races is becoming
greater and greater.
In almost a whisper, Mae said: "How long, 0 God! will
vou allow this strife to exist between thy people?" ' Do
not ask me my dear as I am worried and do not care to
We are now about to part, good-bye, and do not worry
over those things, dear teacher.
CHAPTER IX
Plots Laid for Mae's Downfall.
As Gregory entered the house of Mr. Hugh, looking
sad and perplexed, he was at once accosted by the owner
of the farm.
Well sir, Mr. Sinclair, how are you impressed with
this section of the country? Your visit has been pro¬
longed it seems.
Yes, said Gregory, and to a great disadvantage. I
thought I would have closed up my mission in this section
of the country before this, but to my sad disappointment
I shall be compelled to remain longer or return with my
duty unaccomplished.
If your mission is no secret or if you have no great
love story to tell, I may be able to help you in your work.
Remember, it would be a pleasure to aid you.
0 Mr. Hugh, said Gregory, I wanted to ask your aid
but was afraid I would be asking too much.
Do you know the colored woman who teaches on your
farm?
1 think I should, said Mr. Hugh, when she is giving
me so much concern.
In what way, asked Gregory, growing anxious. Surely
you are not silly enough to be tickled over her ?
Oh no! It is not she, but the Christlike teaching she
is imparting to the children here, and it seems to have
such a great effect upon the young girl I love that I be¬
lieve my case is a hopeless one.
0, tell me all about it, said Gregory, scarcely able to
conceal his anxiety. I am a pretty good detective and
may be able to help you in this matter, sir. It seems
as if that woman was born to do mischief in the white
homes. She is partly the cause of my prolonged stay here.
Well, I hold myself responsible for all this. I have
been leaving it with two colored directors to choose their
teacher, and somehow this woman came into the settle-
A S I T I S 63
ment and lectured in the church down there, and the di¬
rectors were at once convinced that she was the proper
one to teach their children. I am told too that she passed
the examination far above the other competitors; that
alone should have warned me to tell Old Jack not to em¬
ploy her. You know, Mr. Sinclair, these negroes are
easy to handle so long as you don't allow them any edu¬
cation. I have been here on this farm for the past twen¬
ty years and I would never hire a Negro who could keep
his own accounts. You see I get this place worked by just
giving the Negroes a little food and a few clothes. Hereto¬
fore they have not cared about education, but now it is
wonderful to see how these little Negroes have learned
since she has been teaching. Some of her pupils are far
above the school age and nearly all the boys and girls in
the advanced classes are able to keep their mother's and
father's accounts.
You know what that means Mr. Sinclair, it means
m the long run that I shall have to pay them what
they earn. Already they are coming to me asking for
a statement of accounts and not taking my word for it
as was customary. I hear them complaining all over the
farm about their little one and two room huts and saying
I will have to provide better accomodations if I wished
my land worked. I asked one where he was getting all
this stuff and he said that he was reading in his physiolo¬
gy that good health depends upon well ventilated houses.
You see I have always been very kind to my hands and
allowed them to take up anything they wanted to eat as
long as they did not want anything but molasses, fatback
and meal. Of course, sometimes I allow a barrel of flour
to some of the large families and whether they take up
the provisions I allow them or not, they are charged with
the same as it isn't my fault when the things are here
for them. And the thing that is giving me so much con¬
cern is that I may have to work this land myself, if it is
to be worked, and you know I could never stand this
kind of work. You see we farmers are more dependent
upon these Negroes than they are upon us and you know
64
AS IT IS
that capital cannot exist without labor.
I told you that she believes in the teachings of Christ
and the lessons she gives her pupils at school have a great¬
er effect upon those girls down there than forty preachers
could. We are compelled down here on these large farms
to have Negroes who are used to a rough and tumble
existence. In my younger days I fell in love with one of
the prettiest of their race. She was a rich cream, round
and plump, with hair that fell in ringlets down her back.
Oh how I used to watch her and wished I could make her
my wife. She was just in the prime of girlhood and
her sweet and modest manner completely captured me,
for she was not forward, nor did she give me any atten¬
tion and I suppose that is the reason she gave me so much
concern. I tried every way possible to make her notice
me, but to no avail. It is indeed a curse upon their race
that their innocent girls are forced to work in service
for their daily bread. Well, I thought I could marry her
until I told my uncle who was living with a Negro woman.
I thought he was married to her and often wondered,
when I was a boy, why my mother would never allow me
to visit his home, he thought so much of me. At any
rate, when I told him of my project he only laughed at
the idea and told me that I could never marry her as the
law forbade it, and if it did not, my mother would never
consent to such a thing. He suggested that I hire her
in the home as cook and it may be that I could win her
love. This idea almost worried me sick; I could not sleep
night or day, for my mother had tried to lay a moral
foundation for her son's future life. I thought of the
sin I was wont to commit and spoke to him about it, but
he laughed and told me that the training my mother gave
me was to be my conduct to those of my own race. He also
said that a Negro has no moral rights that we are bound
to respect. But although I could not see things as my
uncle saw them, I determined to hire the girl simply to
have her near me. On one occasion when I came in and
my dinner was quite late, I suggested to my mother that
she have someone to help her do the work. She at once
A S I T I S 65
agreed and when I told her who I had in mind, she was
the more pleased. Mother went that same evening and
secured the girl's service, and when we found that she
could Really cook, I suggested that it be left with her en¬
tirely. I did not know bringing the girl into our home
would be such a great temptation. As I watched her
going about her work happy and contented, so womanly
and gentle, my heart went out to her. She was, as I
said, just in the prime of girlhood, as happy to behold as
a pleasant May morning after a dreary winter. Well,
she was not in our employment long before I realized
that Bell was the sunshine of our home. I shall never
forget one May morning, Bell was out early gathering
strawberries, dipped in dew, for dinner. By chance I
saw her take her basket and bonnet to go to the garden
one day and followed behind, hiding in such a place as to
be able to watch her without being noticed. Really, Mr.
Gregory, I believe that in the hearts of the innocent sun¬
shine always exists. Bell started one of her familiar
strains in her low contralto voice that brought peace and
happiness to everything around. She did not sing long
before the birds lent their music and we had a chorus
which was most wonderful to hear. It seemed as if the
sun tried to see how wonderfully it could shine on that
May day. The wind, that was never known to blow so
furiously in May, ceased its blowing as if it too was try¬
ing to listen to the singing. I leaned then against a tree
and wondered if her own heart did not tell her of the
presence of the second party. I would have given my
life, just at that moment, to have walked up and told her
of my love, but when I thought of the problems of the
Negroes, it all ended in one deep pang. I realized the
true condition and how hopeless it all was, but I knew thai
I Was desperately in love with her. Mother had often
talked of her friends daughter as my intended Wife and
often expressed the desire that we marry. At that mo¬
ment I was found wishing that she were Bell, and Bell
were she. I knew I never loved that girl and it seemed
66
AS IT IS
so hard to marry one who could not awaken a single de¬
sire in another heart.
How I wished as I leaned there that she would look up
just one moment; for I would then have believed that
she was trying to attract me and would have had a little
hope; but as she continued to sing, not once looking up
from the red berries, I became insanely jealous of her. I
thought per chance she had fallen in love with one of her
own race, and that they perhaps met in some shady nook
to and irom her work. I knew that her parents did not al¬
low her to receive the attentions of the other sex but felt
that she might be meeting someone. With this idea in
mind I arose early the next morning and complained to
my mother that Bell did not get there early enough as my
work demanded me very early. Mother said that she
could hardly ask the girl to come earlier, for that would
be before day. I then asked if Belle could be allowed to
stay at the house, for which mother said she would try to
arrange and she did. She did not rise early, so I found
great pleasure in going down each morning and helping
Bell to prepare breakfast. What a pleasure it was to be
near her and see how shy she was of me. I would always
praise her and she seemed delighted in trying to please.
As she became more used to my presence she became more
composed and would ask if I liked my meat cooked this
way or that.
I soon became convinced that no one could fix anything
to suit me but Bell, and by, the way, Mr. Gregory, it is
an old statement but a true one that "The Way to a Man's
heart is thru his palate." Time passed on very pleasant¬
ly, Bell's racial identity giving me more concern each day.
Well my brother, who was living in the town "R" became
very ill and word was sent for my mother to come at once
if she wished to see him alive.
She did not know what to do. I was busy harvesting
the crops and she knew I could not get along without
some help at home. I told her that if she would see
Bell's people and get them to allow her to remain, I would
make out allright. This she did. Ah, Mr. Gregory, it's
A S I T I S 67
an ill wind that blows nobody good. How happy I was
to nave Bell all to myself. I learned to love her more each
day and the thought that I could not make her my wife
drove me almost mad. I think the expression of my face
revealed my thoughts to my uncle, for one day he said to
me: My boy, I am glad to see the principle of right in¬
stilled so deeply into your heart, but wiser men than you
or I made this law, nor can we change it. Why worry
yourself over these conditions? Be content with your lot
and make the best of things! Now you may live in fornica¬
tion with that woman and nothing will be done about
it, but if you marry her, you vwill certainly be imprisoned
or else become an exile from this section of the country.
Remember, you are living under what is known as a
Christian government, and if it winks at this sin, why not
you and I? Accept the pleasure of that cup and stop
worrying over something that cannot be.
Oh what a temptation this was to me, and I was not
tempted very long, for the contents of that cup were too
sweet to cast aside! I bought for her everything one could
imagine she would like to wear and many beautiful pieces
of jewelry. How disappointed I was when she would
accept nothing, saying that it was not right for her to
receive clothes or anything else from me. I then took
a lovely diamond ring from my pocket, one that I had
intended sending my brother's daughter who had reached
her majority. This I handed to her with the question—
"Do you not think it very pretty? Oh, indeed, very
pretty, she exclaimed.
Then it is yours, if you will kiss me, I said. She at once
returned the ring with scorn written on every feature
and said: Sir! I cannot be bought! At the same time she
left my presence and I did not see her until the next
morning when she was singing: "Take back your gold,
for gold can never buy me." When she was not singing it,
she had the graphaphone playing it. I realized that it was
intended to sting me. All the pride in my being was
aroused and I felt like teaching her a lesson of the white
man's supremacy and my only desire was to conquer her.
68
AS IT IS
That day I happened to see the advertisement of
Thaw's novels, so I brought one, and after reading it,
decided how to handle Bell. In the evening I carried a
beautiful box of candy home and told her that mother
had sent it to her. She ate it without the thought that
I was fooling her and it was not long before she was in
my power, for it contained the drug. The next day she
realized the power I possessed over her and threatened
to leave my house. I told her if she did I would turn her
father over to the law to be hanged. Her father was
quite reckless when a young man, you see, and he 'really
murdered a man in one of his brawls. I saved him from
being hanged by telling a lie. She knew of the incident
and for his sake alone remained in our home. I was kind
io Bell and she really learned to love me, but her health
became poor, and of course, you know, I became tired of
her. So I dropped Bell and from that day she began to
sink until now she is almost in the depths. She tries
every possible way to disgrace me, but she can't as she
is only a negro. I guess she will grieve until she goes
to her final resting place in Heaven.
Well, to tell the truth, I thought Bell was pretty until
another family moved on my farm from the town of
"K." They have a young daughter who is as pretty as a
peach and I love the child and would willingly make her
my wife if I could. I did have hopes of winning her love,
but since that teacher has come and is imparting prin¬
ciples of right to her, I am afraid it is useless to hope.
Nothing I can say has any effect upon her now.
Really it is remarkable to see how she has brought
about reform among these negroes. No more profane
language is used, the boys have bonded themselves into
temperance leagues and you will insult one if you offer
him a glass of whiskey.
How hard I have tried to win her! I have even brought
her mother and entire family of six here and cared for
the whole in the hope of gaining the girl's love, but sad to
say it only made her hate me when she realized her duty
in my home.
A S I T I S 69
Her mother has tried to coax the child to love me as the
poor old soul is tired of hard work. But I heard the girl
tell her mother that she could never love a white man,
and that rags are as silk and satin when worn for the
sake of principle. It is marvelous to hear the girl's argu¬
ment against- living in such relation with me. How
ashamed she made me when she said that marriage was
a divine ordinance and God intended it, and if she would
serve God, she must do his bidding. Tears came to my
eyes when she told her mother to let her live a clean, pure
life; when she thought she was old enough she would
marry and take care of her. Her whole life's desire was
to live like her teacher. The child then took the Bible
and read to her mother something about a virtuous
woman and her voice sounded so sad and sweet, so
sincere and determined that I would have given all I had
to have been in the place to go to her and offer myself
as her husband—a protector and not a destroyer, as this
only would be a solution to the whole affair.
Well, said Gregory, this seems to be the condition all
over the country; but we can't help it so we must learn
1o adapt ourselves to conditions.
Now, suppose you close the school and that will throw
that teacher out of work; and if you keep it closed for
some time it may be that she will be forced to seek
another field of iabor.
The girl, not having the teacher's instruction and in¬
fluence for a length of time will forget some of her fervor
and may yet learn to love you.
The only thing I can see for us to do is to force that
woman to the same level as the rest of her race. I believe
when we have forced her to actual want and starvation,
t he will be glad to go back to her home and do whatever
is asked of her. Yes, she shall curse the very hour she
failed to become Charles Westmoreland's "lady/' She shall
feel it an honor to serve a white man in any way he may
desire.
Give me time to think it over, said Mr. Hugh. I will
retire now for the night,—pleasant dreams to you.
70
AS IT IS
I am almost discouraged with life, said Mae, as she
sat with head bowed in her hands and looked as one who
had lost every friend. If it were not for the promise
made to the dead, I would give up and go back to my dear
old mammy. I have heard of young girl's in trouble
because of negligence on their part, but ah! mine is so
different—all because I try to live a clean life by precept
and example.
Now here is a letter from my director telling me to
close my school at once for an indefinite time, and his
reason is that he does not like my teaching. He says
that I am teaching industry, morality and religion and
those are virtues that belong to white and not to colored
children. And I, as director and leader of this communi¬
ty, have already notified you to change your method of
teaching and you have failed, "hence your service is no
longer needed here.''
Oh, what shall become of my people! Oh God, I hardly
know what to do! This is the work of an enemy I am
sure. But let no discouragement move me until I have
elevated this community to an intelligent and noble
people.
I shall call the colored people together and inform them
of this note, and if they will pay me just what they are
able and give me my board, my school shall continue. I
shall board around with each scholar for a week or more
at a time. It will be tiresome at first as some of the
children live at such great distances; but one good I can
accomplish—I will have the privilege of studying the home
atmosphere of each child. And I shall be able to help
them assist their parents in elevating the home to the
proper standard. One of the most potent factors in
elevating the race is purifying the home atmosphere. I
shall answer the directors letter in these words:
Mr. Hugh:
Sir, your request shall be granted. I shall close the
public school at once, but school shall continue without
compensation from the public.
Respectfully yours, Teacher.
CHAPTER X.
The Plot Disturbed
Did you ever hear of the like, said Mr. Hugh, looking
a little perplexed and outdone—continue in the school
and ask no compensation whatever! How shaH she live?
Well, not long at that rate.
You look disturbed about something, said Gregory.
What is the trouble?
Well, I might say everything,—here, read this note
replied Mr. Hugh. I fear, Mr. Gregory, I have used the
wrong weapon. It may be that the closing of the school
will only raise ire in the tenants and they will become a
a shield for the teacher; and to hurt her means that
I may lose the majority of my hands. I tell you I have
been a bad man all of my life and as I draw towards the
evening of my life I wish to atone for the past. I do not
care to continue mistreating those whom I know to be
right. All I want in this world is to win the affection of
little Ada; and if there is a God, who would help me to
gain her, I would learn to serve Him.
I believe you are fixing to faint on the way. Do you
think I would allow that woman to change my ideas and
change them to suit her own spasmodic Bible views.
0 Sir, leave her to me and allow me to teach her a
lesson of humility. She shall wish she had never seen this
section of the country. She was raised in a white home
and believes she can soar a degree higher than her people.
Already she has made one white man unhappy and may
be the cause of his death; and if she continues as she is,
it will be hard to say what the end will be.
It is an old but true saying that: "One sickly shaep
will sicken the whole flock." Allow this woman to continue
72
AS IT IS
here as she is and it will not be long before the negroes
will be above work. You know that it unfits a negro for
work to educate him; and you can already see the strength
of an education among your hands. If things continue
thus you will certainly have to roll up your sleeves
and plow your own land. Think of a woman being able to
wield such an influence among these people for right.
It is dangerous.
Why did you not hire one of the teachers on your
place that you could influence—one who possesses no
personality?
Now you give one of these negroes a few cents and tell
him to carry this note to that teacher down there and
sign it "The Black Hand." Give her thirty-six hours to
leave this country and that will frighten her as her
brother was mobbed somewhere down here.
What a capital idea, said Mr. Hugh. I have the right
man for the work. Here he comes now! He never liked
the teacher because she would not allow him to smoke
about the school or meet the children to and fro.
There is no doubt that she is an excellent teacher—one
that we should be proud of if she were white. Here's
the fellow now, continued Mr. Hugh in an undertone.
Well, Tom, old boy, how have you been ? Haven't seen you
for a long time. Here's a dollar, get yourself a good old
time dram as you look like the need one badly.
Yes, Lord boss, replied Tom. I's always need me some
dram, it takes dat to hold dese old bones together. Old
Tom is mighty happy, he's happy from his head to his
heels. When you talk about cheering the old boy up, I
feel mighty good, case these cold days are very trying
without a dram now and then.
I know boss, when you gi' a feller sich big things as
dat, ye want him to do something. I always feel it when
ye need me. Now, what's up, boss? How can I serve you?
Well, yes, Tom, old boy, said Mr. Hugh, I have some¬
thing I want you to do—a duty that no other Negro can
do as it will require either you or I; and as I will be quite
busy tonight and will be unable to attend to it I thought
AS IT IS
73
of sending for you at once. But now that you are here
J will tell you what I want.
minshun it, boss, and old Tom will gi' up ha'f dis
life to p'form it.
Well Tom, you know the teacher down at the school
house ?
Yes, boss.
Well I want you to go to Uncle Jaspers where she is
stopping and place a note at her front door; then Tom
peep in at the window and s6te just where the teacher is.
and shoot in that direction but be careful not to hurt
anyone. Tom, I only want to frighten her out of this
section of the country as she tries to be too blame good
and is ruining the children teaching that stuff down there.
Now, Tom, I want you to be careful that you do not
hurt her, but I want you to frighten her away, however.
Well, boss, does ye think dat'll be treating a lady right,
ye know ye, and all de folks say she is mighty good; and
besides dey say de lady has no people, and what will de
po' chile do?
So, Tom, you do not want to make the money I see?
0 yes, I do wan to make the money. I shoot boss; jess
say de word. I only felt a little sorry fo' de lady, said
Tom, with a malicious grin on his face. Gin me de letter
an I will do all you say, boss.
Well here's the note and the money, Tom, said Mr.
Hugh. Be careful, that everything comes out 0. K., and
I'll not forget the old boy, he continued, closing the door
behind him.
Tom was one of the oldest Negroes on Mr. Hugh's
farm; his silvery locks and unsteady steps at once con¬
vinced one that the better part of his life had been
spent. But Tom, having been trained to all kinds of evil
doing never thought of the right or wrong of an act.
The monotony of the silence was broken by Gregory
who approached and beheld Mr. Hugh in a deep study.
With great stress he said: I guess that will drill her out
of this forbidden path. If she were a ihan I would
just teach him a lesson and make an example of him for
74
AS IT IS
the other niggers; but it looks cowardly to treat a lady
that way.
Well yes, it does, said Mr. Hugh. I used to be in for
all that but I have decided to stop some of my meanness
and try to treat all people right, as long as they're not
directly interfering in my affairs. Really I feel so mean
over the whole affair because we are punishing that
woman for the right. She does no one harm. We should
not encourage this feeling that exists between the races,
but should rather'try to better conditions. Sad to say,
however, the feeling grows more acute each day and
unless some one of us become martyr to the cause and
bring about such laws as will serve to solve the problem,
1 think the affair will become so complex on our hands
that war alone will solve it.
The Negroes are a determined, persevering and sacri¬
ficing people; they are honest and true to their trust as a
citizen, employee and leader. A people possessing these
traits cannot be kept back. I think our race realizes that,
and of course we have tried to throw every obstacle in
their way. I fear their patience will soon cease to be a
virtue. A people like the Negro, multiplying as fast as
they are, with blood of every race running through their
veins, will some day make the problem more complex, if
we continue to draft such laws that place us in a sea of
doubt as to the solution.
Well Mr. Hugh, said Gregory, I can't just see things as
you see them.
I wish I could not see them as I do, continued Mr. Hugh,
but they are facts and we cannot get around them. Now
you know we have undertaken to curb the Negro as
a citizen and we have taken his citizenship from him that
the fifteenth amendment of the Constitution has given
him. We brought him from his own country, enslaved
him and set him free, making him in part a citizen. He
has shown to us that he is worthy of all the favor we
bestowed upon him and we tell him so when we are found
Making such laws as will keep him back.
If we did not fear the rise of the Mississippi River,
AS IT IS
75
why build levees around it? I tell you we need to fear the
a Pa^ ^im the smallest wages and yet we
find him, of his little mite, saving a part, building homes
equal to our homes.
I know once upon a time, Mr. Gregory, we could teil
exactly the settlements or houses the Negroes occupied by
their neglected or unsanitary appearance; or you knov
they only lived in one or two room huts. But those days
are passed and we are often embarassed when asking for
the lady of the house, especially if we wish white, to find
a Negro woman answering that title. Sir, we cannot rise
without bringing those about us up too. Take an intelli¬
gent white community and you are bound to find intelli¬
gent negroes in that same community and vice versa.
Take a rubber ball and throw it against a wall; that ball
is sure to rebound; and sir; just as that ball returns to
us, so will actions toward our fellowmen return to us; it
will be as bread cast upon the water. If we are throwing
out deeds to the Negro, the same law that makes us throw
them will make him return them. The law of assimila¬
tion teaches us that we become like our associates. The
negroes living in our homes and working around us can-
lot be so very bad if we are good.
Think over these remarks, Mr. Gregory, and see if you
do not think there is some truth in them, I will retire for
the night, so good night sir. So let us improve ourselves,
that we will be able to take the mote our of our brother's
eye.
Ah, I see, said Gregory. It is no need for me to hope to
get much help from that white man toward persecuting
that Negro woman. She really seems to be such a magnet
that everyone who comes under her direct influence is at-
trated by her. As I was strolling by the river bank the
other day I saw three old gipsy women living in a cave.
They said they were left there because they were too old
to travel, and from their appearance they are in a needy
condition. For a few dollars I think I can buy their
aS Now ttiis young lady often strolls by the river side for
76
AS IT IS
a walk. I shall have them to abduct her and confine her
in the cave and if she continues in her high strung way
then she shall be forced to submit to any treatment. It's
bosh about that old Negro Tom helping to harm the lady;
for that little surprising smile which he gave warned me
to watch him.
Yes, and Gregory was perfectly right in not having
any faith in Tom, for he took the money, placed it in
his pocket and left, smiling to think how easily he had
cheated his old boss out of it. Tom went directly to Mae,
told her of the boss's plan to frighten her from the
community. He said he would leave the note, and also
shoot; but dear little Miss, he continued, ye need not be
afeard as old Tom ud go through blood up to de neck to
pr'tect a good honest lady of my race. Miss, ye's got
de ole boss scared of ye. He is not used to seein' good
ladies like ye. Did ye' know de debil was scared of de
Lord when de Lord wuld not serve him? I's gwine keep
on de lookout and put you wise on all dat happens; for
de^r little Miss, I'd do all I can to help ye.
Many thanks, said Mae, but I fear not man. I have
the inspired promise that "If God be for us, who can be
against us?"
Miss, said old Tom, I must not be see'd here with ye, for
if I be, it will spile me plans.
As he was leaving Tom muttered to himself,—Well I
would not take a thousand dollars for dat chance to tell
dat darlin' little woman dat good news. She's plucky
too, the kin' I like, I will allers be her friend. I didn'
allers like her, but when I sees the white folks after her
becaise she be a good woman, and a black woman at dat,
't makes all de blood in dese old veins bile,—how I love dat
in her. She bliebes in her God to take care o' her. I'll
watch over her and take care o* too. I'll kill ole boss.
>f he hu'ts a hair in her head.
CHAPTER XI.
Mae Forced in a Cave
What a beautiful morning, not a* single cloud to dis¬
turb the soothing calm of the blue sky or to warn one of
the approaching storm. All nature seems to enjoy this
lovely morning; the little birds show their appreciation
by lending their joyful notes to help harmonize with the
rippling brooks that ask for a space in nature's precious
volume in order to put new life into the benumbed spirits
of lonely Mae.
As she strolled out in nature's great garden to pour
forth to God in tones and sobs of anguish the troubles of
a lonely and desolate heart, she looked about her to see
that no one was near.
It was an unusual happening for Mae to seek the
graveyard alone at that hour of the morning, and sit there
over an unnamed grave to pour forth her heart's anguish
in an orison to Heaven.
Ten years, she said, Dear Lord, I have been among
these people laboring to the best of my ability to elevate
and lead them a most glorious life to live.
I know that thou hast been with me, yet somehow I fell
that I need you now. I am weak and know? that the
devil is in hot pursuit of me. He is trying to frighten
me from my work, but Thy hand, I see, and Lord, though
Satan persecutes me, I will trust in Thee. » He has already
taken from me my bread and raiment, friends and home.
Thou hast taken my dear old mammy, and if it were not
for the promise made to the dead, I would ask that Thou
take me.
As the devil afflicted Job, so has he afflicted me with
but one exception, and that is the suffering of the body;
and somehow I feel that that isn't very far away. Oh,
God! Do help me, thy servant. I have given up a happy
home, a true and noble love, friends and wealth. I am
even denied a friend to whom I can unburden these un-
78
AS IT IS
happy forebodings; yet I feel that Thou will be with me
through all my trials.
I have tried to live with these, my people, but my pres¬
ence in their.homes only works hardships on them; for
the owner fails to give them the necessary bread they
need, and he has told them he did not propose to supply
them as long as I remained. He has therefore caused the
people to turn their backs on me and I must live on
charity. It if were not for the little two-room hut
owned by the Negro preacher, Uncle Jasper, I could not
stay in the community. Time and time again has he
fired to frighten Uncle Jasper and his wife into turning
me out of their humble and loving home.
Oh help me Lord, ere I faint, for as David of old, I
want to say, "Though I walk through the valley and
shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with
me, Thy rod and staff they comfort me."
Why should nature change just after such an orison?
The sky that had been so clear and bright had now sunk
into one threatening mask of cloud.
Mae arose and hastened homeward. Oh that she be¬
lieved in the superstition of her race; that is was a sign of
evil omen for one to fail to return the same way they
came; but just at this inopportune time, with the light¬
ning playing about her head and the loud claps of thunder
only adding terror to the situation she pursued the near¬
est way home naturally—the way that led by the river
bank where the old gypsy women lived.
And as the wind began to snap the trees and scatter
their branches helter skelter, and the torrents of rain
beat upon her, Mae was only too glad to seek refuge where
ever shelter was afforded, so she entered the gypsy tent.
However, had she known that the first face she would see
was Mr. Gregory's she would have braved the storm, yet
she did not know about the cave. Oh why was fate to deal
so cruelly with her? Not a single voice or sound to warn
her of impending danger or tell her to turn her steps in
another direction.
Early in the morning before breakfast Gregory had left
AS IT IS
79
the farm to seek the service of the gypsies in capturing
and holding in captivity for his own vile purposes, Mae,
the pure one.
Just as he had handed them the dollars for their
promised services, the storm arose, so suddenly that
Gregory determined to stay until the storm abated. It
was this same storm that drove Mae into the web which
this wicked man had lain all night weaving in his mind.
No wonder she prayed for strength and fortitude, for
the time was present when she needed it. What trials
were soon to become her lot; what pitfalls were now set
for her weary feet; but the pitfalls and trials of this
young girl's life are the same that are set for many
of the intelligent ones today.
It was a most familiar and wicked smile that greeted
the poor girl as she entered the tent. As soon as she was
accosted with this daring familiarity she at once turned
to face the storm; for the raging storm with all its
horrors was far better than the forced attention which
this bold man attempted to pay her.
As she turned to leave he jumped and caught her hand,
refusing to release it but attempting to embrace her. I
have long wished for this opportunity, will you be mine,
he said?
How dare you! You must be a brute to take advantage
of a helpless woman. Turn me loose! I will call for help.
My dear I have you entirely in my power and if you
called it would be useless for you could not secure help. If
you are reasonable, then you shall be given your liberty
at once, but if not, I have a more inviting reception for
you. Just say you love me and I will be good to you
and give you what you want.
You forget yourself! You are not worthy of my talking
with you and I'd rather die than allow you to touch me.
Then, my little Miss, walk into your parlor, which was
a cave in a large rock that had been used in past days by
fishermen during the hot seasons of the year to store
away their fish; but now this section of the country had
become a camping ground—as the cave made a very
80
AS IT IS
desirable shelter during inclement weather.
The poor girl, with a pistol pointed in her face was
forced to enter the cave, and as she entered she uttered
a little prayer.
What a dirty, dingy hole this was; as much as she ha1.}
complained of the little old huts she had made her home
for the past years in this settlement, those huts were as
palaces to her when compared to this cave.
In one corner of the cave were three or four pieces of
board nailed together in the form of a bunk, which was
used as a bed. There were a few filthy rags spread over
this for bed clothes. In the middle of the cave there was
a large stone which was used as a stool. Around the walls
of the cave hung their clothing and few belongings. Not
a single sound could be heard except the noisy rush of
the waters of the Mississippi River made even more noisy
as they struck violently against the huge rocks in the
unexplored part of the cave.
When the door of the cave was closed a dreadful, sick¬
ening smell filled the cave; but none of these unsanitary
conditions affected or changed the heart of this brutal
man, for after he had closed arid locked the door, he
slipped his arm around the poor, frightened girl and
attempted to draw her to the bunk. But Mae was too
quick for him and struck him fierce and angry blows in
the face causing the blood to flow freely. She picked up
the key which he had dropped and tried to unlock the
door but he pointed his pistol and demanded the key.
Mae surrendered the key looking as helpless as a little
child; he demanded her to return to the bunk, and as he
stood pointing the pistol at her, she said: "Oh sir, as the
blessed Savior died to save the world, let me die to prove
to the world the virtue of a negro woman—that the solu¬
tion of this great problem rests not with the negro but
with your race!—that morality wears not a dress of
color, but is an innate principle. O, Sir, the icy hand of
death is sweeter than the parting with that principle.
With this she fell fainting to the floor.
He stooped, picked the woman up and laid her on the
A S I T I S 81
bunk; but when the truth dawned upon him that she was
helpless and in his power the words of Charles West¬
moreland rang so deeply in his ears that he looked about
to see if Charles was present—"If ever you pass an in¬
sult to that woman, only your life's blood shall balance
it.
He at once left the cave, locked the door and wandered
into the subsiding storm; but soon retraced his steps and
finding the gypsy woman, handed her the key, demand¬
ing that she take care of the girl or pay for it with her
life. Then lie showed the woman a silver handled pistol
and she decided at once that he would never have to use
it on her. "Live or die, sink or swim, survive or perish,
I'll see to it that that poor young girl will never leave this
cave said the woman.
Mae remained within the cave which was as bitter as
death to her, but she did not think of the horrors of being
confined in the cave as a prisoner—no, not once, but her
thoughts were upon the busybodies of the community,
about what they would say. She could not say that she
was forced in the gypsy tent, as she went to the tent in
her desire to get out of the storm. She knew what the
people thought of the gypsies on the river bank—that
they were witches and a bad omen or at least bad luck to
the community; and quite often she has been trying to
show the people the absurdity of their belief, but could
not get them to see that the gypsies were people like
themselves, only wanderers.
The mothers found it easy to stop their children from
mischief by reminding them that they would be given to
the witches on the river bank. All the people in the com¬
munity lent their voices in warning to Mae to cease her
walks along the river bank; but to give up this one
favorite pleasure for mere superstition was indeed too
hard for there, out on the water's edge she often un¬
raveled the complex problems of life. This one spot was
dear to her because it reminded her so much of her happy
girlhood days when she used to romp and play together
82
AS IT IS
with Charles Westmoreland; when life, to her, seemed to
be only a dream.
I had so much pleasure in those days, she sighed; yen
I am taught: "She that liveth in pleasure is dead while
she liveth." I had so many dear friends, my dear old
mammy, Mr. Westmoreland so kind, and so many things
that go to make up the luxuries of life; but ah, those days
are past and they seem as one when compared to these
days of trouble.
Oh, if I had only listened to the prediction of poor Uncle
Jasper, I would not be here now. He told me to cease
my walks along the river bank, for he felt that the gypsies
would spirit me away some day; and now I expect a:'.
sorts of false reports will be circulated even though the
storm drove me here, and my reputation shall be sullied
by those who would do me harm. Already Mr. Gregory's
prolonged stay here has caused comment by some of the
gossipers. I wonder if any one knows of the malicious¬
ness of his nature; if I should gain my freedom and tell
my story, whether it should be believed and vindicated.—
Ah, noi I am only a poor Negro woman; just one word
from this low white man will be accepted a thousand
times to mine and the whole ten years of hard and
earnest endeavor to lift the people and build confidence
in my moral reputation will be shattered as a fallen rose
of summer.
Once in all her life she was found questioning the just¬
ness of her Heavenly Father. She threw herself across
the bunk exclaiming she would not believe in a God who
dealt so unjustly; she wept for her poor brother who
was burned at the stake because he was fleeing with the
woman he would have made his wife. And now she was
forced, at the muzzle of a pistol, in a cave with the most
wicked man in the world, and if she had not had the
courage to fight, her character would have been gone; yet,
if she told her story, what would the world say of it, what
would the law do? A voice that carried all the bitterness
of prejudice seemed to thunder in her ears: "You are only
a Negro woman, no justice in the law for you/' Oh, woe!
AS IT IS
83
woe. she cried, for she even doubted whether those of her
race would stick by her in this hour of agony. Oh, how
ner f\e^r^.ac^le.(i f°r her dear old mammy—just one who
would believe in her innocence; but her dear old mammy
had gone to dwell with the saints above after many
trials and troubles in this world. How she wished for
her brother who would take his pistol and hunt that brute
down; that his death was to save her fair nante instead oi
the fair name of a white woman.
No sooner had Mae allowed her thoughts to wander in
such a selfish channel when her hand struck against some¬
thing in her pocket and she was reminded of the little
Bible she had taken to read over the nameless grave.
There in nature's great garden under the shadow of a
pine tree was the only one that could give her courage to
go onward and upward; for long ago would she have given
up the fight had it not been for the promise made to the
dead brother whose ashes occupied the nameless grave.
After the burning of Mae's brother, Lillian, for a solace
to her own grief, had, at the midnight hour, taken the
ashes placed them in a little casket and buried them,
planting a young pine tree to mark the spot where the
only man she ever loved lay sleeping and whose spirit
was awaiting her in heaven.
Often she was seen by the colored people with her slim
form and face as pale as death, bending over the grave,
weeping her sorrows away; she haunted the grave, for
so it was believed by many who would never be seen
around those parts after dark, declaring that they had
seen a ghost. # .
The night was never too dark or cold for Lillian to visit
this one spot that carried with it a whole volume of misery
as well as a few moments of happiness. Now she tried to
balance the joys and sorrows that had come in her life.
Just think,—for those three blissful months that Tom
and I were together, oh my idol, my hero, I have lived to
pine away ten years in mere miserable existence—not one
Moment's happiness has been mine since the burning of
Tom.
84
AS IT IS
Oh, that my memory could be blotted out; then these
horrors and pangs that fill my brain and almost craze
me would cease. Would that I had gone into the fire and
died helping Tom to support the banner that bears the
silent inscription: "The white man's crime, the white
man's nameless law, the white man's sin, the white man's
solution that the mobbed negro dies to verify;" death is
sweeter to' me than to become a maniac, which I feel is
soon to be my lot; for my brain is overburdened with the
wrongs that were committed against Tom when he died
that heroic death. Then we would have shown to the
other three great races that the mob-violence of America
is undermining true Christian civilization; that it places
not only her black subjects to an unjust test, but also
'her white ones—the remorse of conscience."
Twice Mae took the Bible from her pocket to read k
and placed it back unopened. Her mind was too full of
her sorrows and the wrongs committed against her
people to read. She thought of a little Negro girl under
eleven years old being brutally treated by a white man—
of how while the mother was out earning a livelihood, a
white peddler called at the house and finding the child
alone, committed a criminal act that one of her race would
have been burned at the stake for. He was caught, tried
and confessed his guilt; was imprisoned for two years,
then pardoned. She recalled to her mind instances where
white men had blackened their faces, dressed as Negroes,
and committed most atrocious assaults which, if they had
not been caught, would have been placed at her race's
door. Once and again she was found doubting the exis¬
tence of God, but only for an instant.
Sadder than all was it to her when she thought of the
fact that there was no place in this country where
restrictions of some kind were not placed upon her people.
Did ever before prejudice show itself more vividly than
in the dismissing of a regiment of Negro soldiers without
a chance of proving themselves innocent? How unjust!
If an honest or just white man took up or plead the
cause of the Negro, he must die; if not a physical death, a
AS IT IS
85
political one. Her mind ran back to the days of John
Brown, when he had become a martyr to the cause of the
Negro; then Lincoln, the greater Emancipator and the
martyr; of Senator Foraker in her own day, who
fought for a fair trial for the Negro soldiers who were
dismissed by the President of the United States, and
died a political death with only the Nego race to speak of
nis heroism and the allwise God in his sure way to re¬
ward him.
As she sat there on the bunk, her mind absorbed in
thought, she had not the time to think of her own con¬
dition ; but when this had ended she looked about her as
best she could in the semi-darkness as though she had
been in a trance the last few hours. She found her way
to the door, looking about her all the time, but she could
not open it—it was locked. Now bitter hot tears coursed
down her cheeks, for she realized her horrible plight,
that of an innocent prisoner in a damp and chilly cave,
with not a human sound to break the awful stillness.
She had been brave, 'tis true, but now she was alone
and the place was dark and dismal, and she feared snakes
or rodents; then again, she was hungry and it dawned
upon her that she must have spent many hours in the
cave already and may perhaps starve to death there; for
Gregory, in her mind, was not too good to permit such a
thing.' She screamed and called for Uncle Jasper and
for her dead mother. Then she prayed, she could not
read for it was now pitch dark.
While she prayed, the door opened slowly and against
the now clear sky, she saw the crooked form of a woman
and knew it to be the form of the old gypsy woman.
What is it? said Mae, but there was no reply and she
started slowly towards the door.
Here is some tfood, said the gypsy, but don't come
nearer.
It isn't food I. want now woman, its freedom, and I
shall have it said Mae approaching the door as fast as
she could thru the darkness ; but the door slammed and
she heard the witch locking it.
86
AS IT IS
Mae returned to the wretched bunk and burying her
face in her hands wept aloud and bitterly. Oh, I won¬
der if Uncle Jasper suspects this and is searching for
me? Oh I hope he is, for I'll die, I'll perish in this place
and the truth will never be known. She wept herself
into a fitful doze for she could not sleep, and awoke with
a start as she felt something drop on her hand—it was
a drop of water which had fallen from the ceiling. The
mist which constantly crept in from the Mississippi had
formed on the huge and pointed rocks above and fell in
drops all about the place.
She thought of the food that was placed just inside
the door and crept over to get it. She was barely able
to see it but a gray light in the cave told her of the birth
of a new day. She ate what she wished of the simple
food and laid the rest aside.
For days she remained in the cave, food being brought
each night in the same manner.
Old Uncle Jasper and a number of friends in the com¬
munity had searched everywhere for her but gave up
the search in despair. The school children wept and
searched the woods daily for their teacher, but all in vain.
No one thought of the cave, yet everyone believed that
the gypsies knew something of Mae's whereabouts. Some
held Mr. Gregory accountable for her disappearance as
he left the community shortly after Mae's absence.
One day as Mae sat in the cave, weary and troubled,
and so filled with anxiety and hope that the faintest
sound caused her to start with the joyous belief that
someone was coming to her rescue, only to be cast deeper
in despair when it was not true, she found one spark of
hope in the next thought that crossed her mind—that
"God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to per¬
form." To console her distress she opened her Bible and
turned to these words—"As many as I love, I rebuke and
chasten." And so as she read further she saw the prom¬
ise that brought courage and fortitude to her aching
heart: "To Him that overcometh will I grant to sit with
Me in My Throne."
AS IT IS
87
The bruised and despondent heart of just a few min¬
utes ago was now so filled with hope that the sight of Mr.
Gregory did not fill her with the awe that it had pre¬
viously done as he opened the door and stepped into the
cave.
^ He said: My dear girl, I know you have been lonely
since my long absence but I was called to attend the fu¬
neral of Mrs. Westmoreland whose body was interred
just yesterday. Her will provided me with a handsome
little fortune for the untiring services I have rendered
in trying to find her son; but Charles is dead without a
doubt, for after advertising for him as we have, I am
quite sure if he was still alive, he would have shown up
at his mother's funeral.
I need not tell you that I love you, for one possessing
the power and intellect that you do, could at once read
it from my eyes; but you know still that I cannot marry
you. Why need you be so obstinate in your spasmodic
belief about right? Why not accept my offer?
How dare you, Sir, offer me your wealth at the expense
of my womanhood! How1 dare you insult a helpless wom¬
an! Take that sir! Mae with her little fist had struck
Gregory in the mouth and with a loud scream had fallen
against the door of the cave. This unexpected blow be¬
wildered Gregory who was silenced by the voices of two
men on the outside of the cave who asked for admittance.
I am discovered he said, with a tremor in his voice. I
must escape somehow.
If you don't open this door I will break it open, said
a voice outside.
Mae had at this time recovered from her fright, and
demanded Gregory to open the cave.
He realizing that those outside might carry out their
threat drew his revolver and handed Mae the key, who
at once opened the door; and Gregory fired his pistol,
thinking the intruders were some of the Negro men in
search of Mae. But as he rushed out of the cave he
stumbled over an unconscious body. He threw up his
hands and screamed with surprise and horrorfor as he
88
AS IT IS
looked down upon the body he found it to be none other
than Charles Westmoreland, Charles of whose tragi¬
cal death all the newspapers of the land had spoken;
Charles, for whom he had spent the last ten years search¬
ing; Charles, for whose disappearance he had accused
poor Mae and caused to suffer all kinds of indignities."
Some of the papers said that insanity was the cause
of his disappearance, others said he was murdered; but
I stand today the murderer of my best and most beloved
friend. It is more than I can stand, he said, and placing
the pistol to his heart Gregory was no more.
The screams of Mae had caused the entire neighbor¬
hood to come to see what the matter was. The country
physician went at once to work to save the life of Charles
Westmoreland as he discerned that he was breathing
though very faintly.
He was carried to the nearest house and it was agreed
that Mae should remain and help in nursing Charles.
PART II
CHAPTER XII.
Summary of the ten years of Charles' Disappearance
On that dark and stormy night when Charles West¬
moreland and Gregory had met in the quiet conserva¬
tory of the Westmoreland mansion to map out plans
which were best for Charles happiness, duty was the
outcome of the argument. There were two duties dis¬
cussed—duty to the race and duty to one's self. On the
first, however, Gregory put up quite a lengthy argument,
saying: The duty one owes to his race if he is a white
man, is bravery and fearlessness. He said: you know
Charles, we are the predominating race in intellect, morals
and finance. There are some things which your manlv
heart may teach you are right; but you, being a white
man, cannot afford to do without bringing upon your
race an unpardonable blunder; and if you expect to treat
the Negroes as though they are on the same level with
yourself, then Charles you will be committing one of
those blunders
But Gregory, said Charles, your talk is a safeguard to
the prejudiced ones of our race whereas it undermines
the rights that belong to the Negro as a citizen.
The thirteenth amendment made all men free. It
cleared this country of the greatest sin a nation is able
to commit against its subjects, and that is holding a por¬
tion of its people as slaves because they happen to be in¬
ferior to the others in intellect. It caused us to cease
breaking that command in the Bible which said: "What
God hath joined together, let no man put asunder."
Show to me, Gregory, the religion among a Christian
people that separates a husband from his wife and tears
the babe from its mother's breast, and sells that mother
90
AS IT IS
to be carried thousands of miles away with the child, in
many instances, never seeing her again. Do you know
I have even heard of brothers marrying sisters on ac¬
count of these distressful happenings; and yet you boast
of our superiority. I am of one of the oldest Southern
families. My father believed as you, Gregory, but I tell
you my northern training has unfit me to see things in
the same light as he did. Under the fourteenth amend¬
ment of the constitution of the United States every per¬
son became a citizen, the Negro and the white man be¬
came a citizen alike. I cannot see the amendment to the
amendment which gave us the superiority in citizenship.
It was stretching the American flag over all its citizens,
and the citizens agreeing to defend the flag in return.
Now Gregory, from the Revolutionary War down to
the World's War, have not ' the Negro's valor
and bravery in defense of that flag been remarkable?
Take the Revolutionary War when this country was be¬
ing given a taste of the bitter trial of not enjoying en¬
tire freedom, we were then taxed without representation.
It was one Crispus Attucks I think of their race, who
spilled the first blood in defense of this country's indepen¬
dence ; and then in the Civil War, was it not remarkable
how the Negro served their masters They remained
at home, cared for their master's families and made
crops for them, when they knew that their masters were
fighting to keep them in slavery. And you know some
of them got hold of the newspapers in those days and
kept better posted about the war than some of us. See
how impossible it was to whip the South with the Ne¬
groes such close allies to their masters and had to make
slavery an occasion for war; how the Negroes ran away
and hunted for the Union Army, receiving all kinds of
treatment when they failed in their attempt to reach the
army. They showed to the world, however, that they
were worthy of their freedom, and yet, Gregory, the mass¬
es of our people make such a terrible cry about social
equality, so much so that we are unable to giv6 them
their Liberty which is not a social question, that this
A S I T I S 91
amendment grants them. You know when we crush
their rights beneath our feet we are inferior to them. We
recognize Christ's superiority to his disciples when he
wjashed their feet, and that he was without sin. He
was honest and virtuous with a heart full of charity, and
unless we possess those virtues we are not superior to
those who possess them. Now Gregory, Mae possesses
them all. Oh how I wish that I could feel that I possess¬
ed them, then I would feel that I was her equal. Her
life has been to me as a magnet; for it was raised upward
to all that is great and noble, and inspired me to draw
my life upward in an attempt to reach hers. I wish, oh
I wish I could see that race or color made men superior;
then I could set at ease the pangs of my desolate heart
that is eating my vitality away.
What would you think of me if I hated you because
you were poor and I rich? I need no answer; I can see
from the expression on your face. Then we have no
more right to hate the Negro, because he is a Negro, than
we have to hate the poor man because he is poor.
Now Gregory, you see the fifteenth amendment gave
the citizens a right to make and execute the laws; and
these laws are placed above the power of any state.
Therefore when the State takes away the rights of a citi¬
zen it is violating the Constitution and that is being
done all over the Southland when we disfranchise the
Negro. I want you to contest the law which is being
violated daily and I will furnish the money. What I
want Gregory is simply an equal right for all mankind.
We do not need to create such laws as will retard the pro¬
gress of an uneducated people in order that they may
not soar as high as we do. There is room at the top of
the ladder for all men if they have proven themselves
W°ButySir, said Gregory, you forget the uneducated
W*Then, said Charles, if the uneducated whites allow a
race that was held in bondage, a more ignorant race in
every sense, to come up side by side with it and through
92
AS IT IS
his own endeavor surpass him, then I have too much
aristociacy existing in my blood to try to take advantage
of that people through laws created to hinder their prog¬
ress. I am always willing to lend a helping hand when I see
that one is worthy of it regardless to race or color.
This is part of the conversation that went on the night
that Charles strolled out on the river bank and tried
to bury his sorrows by jumping into the river. But he
didn't succeed in ending his life by drowning, for just
as he was about to sink the last time a little boat which
was out taking a moonlight row appeared on the spot in
time to enable one of the occupants to catch his hand and
draw him into the boat. In the boat Charles was rolled
and wrapped in warm blankets after which he was given
a stimulant and stretched out where he was soon breath¬
ing freely. In - less than five hours the men were able
to learn something of Charles' sad story, for he was de¬
lirious and at intervals would make known what was
working on his heart and mind.
The men who rescued Charles were from the Spanish
Legation and they were out pleasure seeking with their
visitor, the King of Spain. Some suggested leaving him
at the home of an old man near the river bank until he
was able to tell his identity and be sent home; but the
King whom Charles' story had touched so much, would
not allow it, saying "leave him here under the care of
my doctor." It may be that this trip will cause him to
forget his troubles and live. I have often thought of the
condition of the Negroes of America but have never
given them my sympathy until I heard the story of this
young man. No wonder there are so many suicides and
so much mob-violence in their country. I cannot see how
a government can exist long when it fails to recognize
each man's right as a citizen.
It was at least two years before Charles was himself
again and during that time as he lay at the brink of
death every newspaper advertised for him. His illness
was of such a nature that his memory was entirely lost,
he couldn't even remember his name and some thought
A S I T I S 93
that he would lose his reason. However, under the direct
c are °* a Spanish specialist, he recovered slowly.
After two years diligent search by the shrewdest de¬
rives of this country, it was firmly believed that he
had drowned himself and his body was devoured by the
fish.
His mother always sat in silence, visiting no one and
receiving no one but very close friends. How pitiful and
resigned she looked in her heavy black robe one day as
she gazed toward the river expecting to see the river give
up her only son, indeed her only child.
Once, upon a bright spring morning, she Wandered
out to her husband's grave and there she was found pros¬
trate across the grave with this letter written:
"I came here to end my sorows and if it had not been
ior this little Bible, a cherished idol of my sons, I guess
i would have been responsible for my death before my
God." Since the death of my husband life would have
lost all its charms but for the blessing which God gave
me—my son. I lived then only for him, but ah, the
cruel hand of fate has now snatched him from me. Yet
I am compelled to say that whatever happens, happens for
the best.
"I have read the Bible and have become a Disciple of
Jesus Christ. I have learned to love all mankind and to
recognize God as the Father of us all. Oh, that I could
see my son before I die and bless him in his love for the
woman he loves! Oh how trouble has changed me! How
the blood of Christ changes us mortals, for I love those
whom I hated, and if I never see Charles again I want
this letter given to him if he lives. My son! Oh, my son!
May the clouds of this life disperse when you know that
your mother died blessing you and Mae. I feel that I was
hard and heartless with my only child's happiness. If
I could only have buried that pride I believe I could now
have my son with me in this most trying hour. Ah but
since the inevitable must come I resign all to His will.
94
AS IT IS
May God's blesing hover over my child, is the prayer of
his heartbroken mother."
"Mrs. Westmoreland."
Along with the finding of Mrs. Westmoreland and the
letter was found a will giving Gregory a handsome for¬
tune and providing a nice little living for each of her ser¬
vants. The bulk of her fortune was to go to some of her
distant kindred according to her grandfather's will.
Again and again the newspapers took up the task of
advertising for Charles but without effect apparently.
One beautiful day when Charles was riding with the
prince a newspaper was handed to him. In the advertise¬
ment he read the following:
Wanted: A Charles Westmoreland, age about 40, in
the town H at the bedside of his dying mother.
As they continued on their drive, Charles was heard to
say to himself,—"that used to be my name."
What is that sir, said the prince, for he had not only
become interested in Charles, but he had learned to love
him very much, hence he was never seen without Charles'
company.
After Charles had read the ad he sat in deep study. The
king only watched him but thought it best not to break
the silence until Charles spoke.
He said, Oh yes; I remember now. It all comes to me
like a dream. It is my mother who is dying. I must go
to her at once! Thank God my memory is restored to me
and may that same God let my dear mother live that I
might see her once again in this life.
Charles' past life came to him as the picture of a
dead friend often brings back remembrance to one. If he
had not; given such straight details of his troubles and of
his going to the river to bury them in eternal silence, the
prince might have thought he was losing his mind. He
told the true condition of the American people and the
troubles existing between the two races. After telling
the true conditions of the Negro, he asked the prince's
aid in showing to the American people the injustice in
the way they dealt out the law to their black subjects.
AS IT IS
95
The prince related to Charles his visit to this country
and of the finding of him. He told of how he was touched
by his delirious stories and how he had cared for him. He
was not surprised when Charles told him he was of the
wealthiest family of the south and a millionaire. But
the prince would accept nothing saying that he knew that
Charles^was of an aristocratic family and that he would
have tried long ago to find out something of his history
had he not been afraid of recalling to him his past
troubles, and the doctor had said that a relapse would
be dangerous.
With these words Charles and the prince bid a long
farewell, Charles asking God's blessing upon the prince
and inviting him to visit him after he had heard from
him.
Charles was two weeks arriving home and was very sad
1o learn that his mother was dead and buried. But as he
read the letter he was willing to resign all to fate and
find Mae and tell her of his mother's blessings upon them
and try once more to win her love. He spent one week
looking after the estate and getting the business in a con¬
dition that would warrant his leaving once more.
The only changes in the will would be that of his
great-grandfather. The sight of home brought back to
Charles his only love as fresh as if it were yesterday. And
the absence of that one face made home lose its charms.
But he was now anxious to begin his search and he closed
his last business with a heart full of hope. He purchased
a ticket for the town of H for he learned from some
of the servants that Mae was still there teaching school.
Every time that Mr. Gregory had visited the Westmore¬
land home after Charles' departure, the servants had
questioned him as to Mae's welfare, for she was loved by
all who knew her.
Charles had no trouble in finding the settlement and he
had never thought of one not being able to see Mae as
poon as he reached the place.
He was walking out to the settlement which was about
4 or 5 miles out when he met old Tom, and after finding
96
A.S IT IS
out from him where he lived he at once asked him if
iie knew a school teacher by the name of Miss Mae.
0 yes, said Tom, I knew her very well but the poor
thing has been stolen by dem old Gypsies—everybody
believes it and we have been dar in search for her
but can't find her. Dem chillun am all in mourning for
her case dey love her. We have looked everywhere for
her and are still looking.
Then will you carry me to where the gypsies live and
I will question them as to Mae.
1 guess you must be de perliceman some o' dem folks
said dey were gwine to tell and have him to come and look
for her. Miss Mae have been a blessed angel down here
with us and she has some hard times, but I guess she be
allright where she is in case she trusts in de Lord and
He will help her.
Oh, if I could find the brute who would harm one hair
of her head, it would not be well for him, said Charles.
Den as you ain't skeered of dem witches, I go and help
you as I do love dat good lady.
Yes and I love her because she is good, said Charles.
At this moment they had reached the tent and seeing
110 one they rushed in the tent. Charles at once noticed
a quilt screen and rushing back of it saw the door of the
cave and heard the sound of their voices within. He de¬
manded that the door be opened and it was then that
Gregory shot him.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Death-Bed Scene
Doctor, you say that my time is very short and my
hours are numbered in this world. Is it true that I must
go so soon ? Doctor, look in my coat pocket and give me
that letter; if it were not for the news of that letter
I would be glad to see this hour, but now it is hard £or
me to go so soon. Is there nothing that can be done for
me? Do not count the cost but only spare me of death.
But, my dear sir, I am sorry to say, but,it is true,
however, that you have but a few hours in this world and
]f you have any business transactions, have them attended
to at once.
Well, doctor, you go to the city and have a lawyer come
out here at once, and in the meantime make out your
bill and give it to me.
Now send my nurse to me and hasten to get the lawyer.
Mr. Westmoreland, is your misery very great? Can you
not live just for my sake? O, sir, my honor, my reputation
is to be soiled by the cruel hand of those who would harm
me! 0, sir, my life seems to be one destined for.trouble.
Mary is my correct name and they say it means bitter,
and indeed I have had my portion of it.
Ten years have passed since we last met, when I left
you and my dear old mother. I thought that my lot
was the hardest. The trouble was of such a nature as I
knew would take years of hard labor among a people
whose future success as a race was said to be hopeless."
Then, Mae. you had just a little love in your heart.for
me? Oh, let me hear you say it and my last hour will not
be so hard. And then when I think of what might have
been had not the cruel hand of fate intervened it will
make me die happy; happy although I am reminded, of
the words of the author—
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these:
"It might have been."
98
AS IT IS
However, when I look over my past life and think
of the years when we were children and romped and
played together I can boast of some happiness and en¬
joyment. I really ought to be proud to see this dying
hour but again were it not for this letter written by my
dear mother just before she was summoned to give an
account of her stewardship, I believe I could welcome
death.
Ten years ago, when you and I were separated I was
not the strong fearless person that you were, to live
and brave the pangs that this separation would bring.
I had not learned to be as true a Cristian as you and
uear my burden for Jesus' sake. Oh, no! The world
seemed so unsympathising without you, I was a coward
and decided to bury my sorrows in the same river
on whose banks we had played when children; where
I studied your true worth and learned to love
you as no other person could. But fate was not
willing that a Westmoreland who had been known
as one of the bravest families should die the
death of a coward. And I was rescued and nursed back
to health by the Prince of Spain; taken to Spain after
a hard spell of sickness, which caused me the entire loss
of my memory. I was apparently buried for ten years,
for, owing to my loss of memory, I was unable to tell
who I was or anything about my people. But God saw fit
to restore my memory—Ah, was it in order to make my
last hours my hardest? You speak of your troubles, my
dear girl. You have braved them and gone on in the
world trying to do all the good that you could for the
uplift of falling and fallen humanity. But I could not
brave life when you cast my love aside. Oh! that morn¬
ing when you left my room after bidding me good-bye
my life became to me one blank. Oh how my head did
pain and my heart ache! Death was sweeter to me than to
part with you.
And now I have found you and learn that you love me.
Yes and even now that same cruel fate stands between
AS IT IS
99
ks that tore us asunder before. It is indeed very, very
hard.
But sir, said Mae, I cannot allow you to die with the
false impression. Had not fate played her part,- duty
would have forced me to accept the otie and only lot,
a lot of misery; for being a Negro woman I do not believe
I could have made you happy. I do not believe in inter¬
marriage between the two races because the law prohibits
it. And trying to lead a despised race I must set an
example.
How cold and free from sympathy the word duty
rounds. What a thief it is. It has robbed me of my
Happiness forever. How I wish I could cut the word
out of the English language.
Oh stop speaking of the word duty and tell me that you
love me said Charles. That is all I care to know. I know
of your good deeds in your community and I know of
your suffering. Would to God I could carry you to some
foreign country and make you my wife and become your
protector through life. For I believe my mother wlould
smile in heaven and bless , my love. But my dear child,
instead, I must say farewell to all earthly joy. Farewell,
until we meet in heaven where parting will be no more.
Ah, Mae! I see our dear old mammy and my mother
beckoning me to come home to rest.
Oh that I could go also, Mr. Westmoreland, said Mae.
It is hard to give you up. I know you are the only true
friend I have in this world and that the love which you so
l opelessly gave me was more a curse than a blessing.
The thoughts of such a true, unselfish and noble love being
wasted on one who could never make you happy has some¬
times made life to me almost unbearable.
I hope you will not think me cruel or stone-hearted,
Mr. Westmoreland, when I tell you that I have never
thought of your love being reciprocated. I have even
tried hard to erase you from my memory or to think
of you only as what might have been. There was a gulf
between us or I might say the law which forces us to
choose opposite paths in life regardless how inclined we
:100
AS IT IS
may feel fit to choose the same path, and what was left
for me but to accept it in as hopeful a way as possible.
And when, sir, I was inclined to allow my lonely heart to
dyell upon the many kind acts and words you con¬
descended to express to me I buried it all in this gulf and
with the help of Him who told us to cast our burdens upon
Him I have never been able to wish this gulf did not
exist, hut to feel, as 1 so often would say to you, "What
happens, happens for the best." For I have been able
to give unselfishly a life to my people that needed me- the
more. Yet I must own it was a sore temptation to me at
times, and had it not been for Him who promised to guide
me with a watchful eye, I fear the struggle would have
been more than I could bear. Only God knows the suf¬
fering I have had to bear since we parted, my dear sir.
Had we never met again I would never have been able to
convince my heart that it was your strong love I needed
to fill the vacant place that existed in my life. Ah, sir,
I see you are growing very weak, I must not worry you.
Ah, yes,, weak but happy, my dearest, said Charles.
The words from your lips are as rain on a hot summer
'lay-* ■:..■■
-Jjet me tell you I could have loved you as jio other
woman could. I am not as good as you have pictured
me, as my effort in this community has been partly selfish.
I had the idea that true worth would wipe out prejudice.
! believed that if I could elevate my people to the same
standing as your people that worth would be accepted
by. your people and thus help solve this problem. Ah yes,
i.was hopeful enough to believe that thru religion, educa¬
tion,, and industry the cloud of prejudice would melt away
as snow before the rays of the summer sun.
vl. say true religion is removing from our hearts all
■prejudice against the people who held us in cruel bondage
and is helping us to do unto them as we would that they
should do unto us and recognize God as the Father of all
mankind. -
Education is making of us selfrespecting citizens, and it
is broadening our views and knowledge, and helping us to
AS IT IS
101
grasp opportunities set before us, inventive, brave and
progressive.
Industry is making us independent and placing money
m our grasp and since "Money is power" this power adds
to our & elf respect.
Linking the three together we have a chain of progress
which when placed around the necks of my people will
serve as a shield against those who would do us harm.
Yes, when I saw Mr. Roosevelt installed as our President,
I was hopeful enough to believe that under his adminis¬
tration the ice would melt away. And I grew more hope
ful when Mrs. Cox of Mississippi, the Negress post¬
mistress, was allowed to hold her position because sh*-
was worthy of it even though prejudice was attempting to
remove her. I would say to my own desolate heart—"Be
patient," for I see the hand of God in this great ruler.
But as I watched the administration, how my hopes were
crushed. What is left me but to labor on and wait. And
now as I am face to face with the one who could have
made me happy and had not blind fate weighed our love in
the scale of races and not of the individuals? I must say
there still lies nothing to do on my part but to thank God
that this question, the Negro Problem, rests with the com¬
ing generation of the white race for solution.
Would to God that all my people could see things in
the true light, as I see them, said Charles. I think thsn
there Would be no problem, hence no solution. If you
believe that the melting of the ice lies in religion, educa¬
tion and industry for your people, the same is needed for
the majority of my people, uneducated on those lines. And
balancing the rich, educated, religious and industrious
whites with the same of the Negro we believe there will
be no prejudice and therefore no problem. I shall cer¬
tainly see that some of my money fosters that cause as
well as the cause for which you strive
Let me say, dear girl, if my hours were not very short
in this world, I would try once again to win you as my
wife. But I feel the hand of death upon me. Oh yes, my
time is very, very short. Whisper the words that shall
AS IT IS
102
. make me very, very happy, that you love me and me alone,
quick, as I see my doctor and lawyer coming.
Rut to say;those words without some emotion; yes tht
greatest grief, to that poor soul was more than Mae could
stand. She stood weeping as a child would do over its
lost mother. Her grief was too great to think of Charles
as a white man and herself a colored woman. She only
thought of him as the only one she loved, the only one
whducould bring back the memories of her childhood
days.. How she prayed that since God had bereft her of
mother, father and even her dear old mammy and now
was taking the truest friend she ever had, that He would
take her. And as Charles laid there on the brink of eter¬
nity smiling so sweet and sadly, he reached out his hand
•t& Mae, and as she grasped it as if to say, You shall not
leave me yet, he raised her hand to God and whispered
this prayer: Oh God! Shield this woman from the snares
and pitfalls of this world. Help her to realize that the
truest friend is her Maker. Help her to trust you as she
taught me to trust You; and let us meet in that Great
Beyond,: where there will be no problem, but we all shall
be like Him. Mae left the room and the lawyer, and
doctor* entered, Charles proceeded to make his will as
he had about ten: million dollars that his great-grand¬
father's will had nothing to do with. So he left a living
for Mae and five million dollars were left her to build
schools of industry for her people and Uncle Jasper wa?
provided a home with her : as old Tom had told Charles
all about Mae's suffering and her friends and her entire
life in this community. He gave the other four million
>io a fund known as the Westmoreland Helping Fund for
nfche uneducated, whites all over the United States and one
million to the lawyer, white or black, who would bring
evidence sufficient to repeal all laws, state or national,
that infringed upon the Constitution of the United States
and,which failed to recognize any man's right as a citizen.
FINIS