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The Problem in the Light of History
Tlie recent deplorable race riots in Atlanta have
been a painful reminder to the Southern people
that they are “up against” the greatest social and
political problem that the Anglo-Saxon race has
ever had to grapple with. I say they were a re
minder, for we have been confronting the race prob
lem for more than forty years. As soon as the
negroes were emancipated the problem at once pre
sented itself in so portentous a form as to awaken
anxious forebodings in the minds of all thoughtful
people; and ever since then many methods have been
devised and put into practice to put the matter
forever at rest. Shortly after the war a horde of
intermeddlers from the North came down South to
take charge of Southern affairs, and to regenerate
Southern civilization. The New England “school
marm,” with her ideas of education and social
equality for the negro; the carpet-bagger with his
doctrine of “putting the! bottom rail on top,” and
his policy of crushing out the white people so
as to make our Southland a veritable Africa, were
among the first missionaries who were going to
solve the race problem out of hand, and to “join
together what God hath put asunder.” But so
far from solving the problem, they simply brought
on a, fearfully acute stage of trouble between the
races, and made ku-kluxism the last resort of a
brave, patriotic people to save their civilization.
Later came the uprisings of the whites in the sev
eral states, when they wrested the government of
their commonwealths from the blacks. But after
the white race had taken the reins of government
from the incapables who had ruined the land, they
found that the race problem was still on their hands
for solution.
Various expedients were tried to help the sit
uation, but after each effort to grapple with the
problem, it still stood in the pathway of progress.
tided to lend a helping hand by va
rious methods of religions work for the uplifting
of the negro race, but their efforts have been most
conspicuous failures. The colored race has put it
self on record as not wanting any co-operation with
the white race in an effort to benefit the colored
race. After more than twenty years of effort on
the part of the religious denominations of the
South, they now realize that they are no nearer a
solution of the vexed question than they were in
1865.
Meanwhile the problem is assuming now phases
that present new difficulties. The old negroes, who
were trained to a life of discipline by slavery, are
rapidly passing away, and will soon be gone.
The young negroes who are taking the places of
the older generation are idle, thriftless, almost
worthless as laborers, insolent in manner and
speech towards the whites, they have had little or
no friendly contact with the whites, hence they
have no kind feelings for them; on the contrary,
they seem io feel that the white man is their enemy.
They generally go armed if able to buy a pistol,
and are not slow to resort to its use. And many
of them have no more moral self-restraint than a
gorilla. In the country the people live in a state
of dread and anxiety all the time, and no man would
think of leaving his family in many sections of the
South without protection any more than he would
think of leaving them in a jungle full of tigers.
Euless a change for the better takes place, living
in the country will be abandoned, and adjacent
landholders will have to congregate together in
small villages, as in Europe, or move to the cities.
And even in cities our women are in peril, as recent
events show. We are just getting on the edge of
this fearful problem, and all the labor and travail
of the whites are still before us. But we must
face it, and solve it in some way, and we need all
the light we can get to help us solve it righteously,
and finally and to this end I propose to turn on
the searchlight of history and see if its lessons
will be worth anything to us in this hour of tribula
tion.
The lessons of history, if read aright, are about
as helpful in reading the future as prophecy itself,
for human nature is the same in all ages, and,
subjected to the same conditions, will yield the same
The Golden Age for January 24, 1907.
results in every age. If we can discover that our
conditions are the same as those of a people two or
three thousand years ago, then we can determine
the course of our future history with great accu
racy, if we know what the ancients did when con
ditioned as we are today.
Now, what is the lesson of history on the race
problem? Briefly this;
That no two radically different races ever lived
together in the same territory, on an equal foot
ing, and yet remained separate and distinct races.
The presence of two races in the same country
always creates a race problem that will not down,
but must be solved. Now, the problem has always
solved itself in one of four ways:
1. Subordination. One race putting the other in
a state of virtual or actual slavery.
2. Amalgamation. The two coalesce and produce
a mongrel race.
3. Extermination. One race kills out another.
4. Deportation. One race is removed to another
territory, and gives free possession to the other.
The writer will discuss the merits and demerits
of each method in some future articles, with ap
propriate illustrations from history as to how each
one works, and try to show whether we can apply
any one of them or not. Judging from the history
of the past, we must apply one, or some one of
the above four methods of solution will apply it
self. X.
A Dedication.
By Rudyard Kipling.
Strange to say the following exquisite piece of
English verse by the well known author of “Bar
rack Room Ballads” and numerous minor poems is
comparatively little known. It appears only in the
full edition of Kipling’s poems and is written as a
dedication to his brother-in-low, young Wolcott
Balestier, who was also bis close and beloved
friend.
Why this poem should be allowed to escape from
many of the editions of Kipling’s works, why it
should not be more universally quoted when the
talent of this eminent writer is under discussion, is
one of the unexplained literary mysteries. That
it shows all the fire and fervor of true poetry, that
it excels in a perfect rhythm and at the same time
conforms to every rule of style and every require
ment of poetic value, is beyond all question. We
give it to our readers, not only because especially
requested to do so, but because we believe it will
awaken in them as it does in us, a very genuine in
terest, admiration and even reverence. It will be
remembered that Wolcott Balestier died in India at
an early age, but not before he had “stooped to
fame.” being himself an author of no little merit.
But if the talented writer did nothing more than in
spire this almost perfect tribute he still served the
world well and this tribute to his memory should
surely receive the rank which is its literary due.
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter
darkness hurled—■
Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust
swirled—•
Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved
and made our world.
They are purged of pride, because they died, they
know the worth of their bays,
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the
Gods of the Elder Days,
It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our
Father’s praise.
’Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where
Azrael’s outposts are,
Or buffet a path through the Pit’s red wrath when
God goes out to war,
Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of
a red-maned star.
They take their mirth in the joy of Earth—they
dare not grieve for her pain—
They know of toil and the end of toil, they know
God’s law is plain,
So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who
know that Sin is vain.
And ofttimes cometh our wise Lord God, master of
every trade,
And tells them tales of His daily toil, of Edens
newly made;
And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gen
tlemen unafraid.
To these who are cleansed of base Desire, Sorrow
and Lust and Shame—
Gods for they knew the hearts of men, men for
they stooped to Fame,
Borne on the breath that mon call Death, my broth
er’s spirit came.
He scarce need to doff his pride or slough the
dross of Earth—
E’en as he trod that day to God so walked he from
his birth,
Tn simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean
mirth.
So cup to lip in fellowship they gave him welcome
high
And made him place at the banquet board—the
Strong Men ranged thereby,
Who had done his work and held his peace and had
no fear to die.
Beyond the loom of the last lone star, through open
darkness hurled,
Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star
swarm swirled,
Sits he with those that praise our God for that they
served His world.
Aunt Mary’s Glorious Finish.
A dear old New England spinster, the embodi
ment of the timid and shrinking, passed away at
Carlsbad, where she had gone for her health. Her
nearest kinsman, a nephew, ordered her body sent
back to be buried—as was her last wish—in the
quiet little country churchyard. His surprise can
be imagined, when, on opening the casket, he beheld,
instead of the placid features of his aunt Mary,
the majestic corpse of an English general in full
regimentals, whom he remembered had chanced to
die at the same time and place as his aunt.
At once he cabled to the general’s heirs, explain
ing the situation and requesting instructions.
They came back as follows: “Give the general
quiet funeral. Aunt Mary interred today with full
military honors, six brass bands, saluting guns.”—
September Lippincott’s.
A Case of Mutual Application.
Mr. Wood, a man very fond of playing jokes,
met his friend, Mr. Stone, and at once inquired
jocosely:
“Hello, Stone, how are Mrs. Stone and all the
little pebbles?” e
“Fine,” said Mr. Stone, “all well, thank you,”
and then, with a twinkle in his eye: “How are
Mrs. Wood and all the little splinters?”
More Reform.
We’ve shortened up our words a few.
The scheme is far from twaddle.
Progressive young folks say “skiddoo!”
Our grandfathers said “skedaddle.”
A well known artist was walking with a friend
one day, when his companion suddenly discovered
he had a tooth in bad condition. As the pair was
passing a drug store the man with the throbbing
molar asked the other: “What would you advise
for the toothache?”
“Why.” innocently replied the artist, “the last
time I had toothache I went home and my wife
kissed it away.”
The friend paused a moment and then asked,
“Is your wife at home now?”—Exchange,
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