t and mind and conscience like
as themselves; albeit these powers of personality had long been
smothered and imbruted by centuries of suppression and harsh usage.
These philanthropists believed in the essential manhood of the Negro.
This belief was the chief dynamic of their endeavor. Upon this
foundation they not only broke the Negro's chain, but clothed him with
political and civic prerogative as an American citizen. They established
schools and colleges and universities for him because they believed in
his higher susceptibilities. To-day we are almost astounded at the
audacity of their faith. They projected a scheme of education comparable
with the standards set up for the choicest European youth for a race
which had hitherto been submerged below the zero point of intelligence.
These schools and colleges founded and fostered on this basis were the
beginnings of the best that there is in the race and the highest which
it can hope to be.

But, alas, as the passion engendered by the war grew weaker and weaker,
the corresponding belief in the Negro has also declined, and the old
dogma concerning his mission as a human tool has begun to reassert
itself. In certain sections the white race has always claimed that the
Negro should not be encouraged in the development of personality. The
denial of the designation "mister" is suggestive of this disposition.
With them the term "mister" is made to mean a direct designation of
personality. There is no objection to such titles as "doctor,"
"reverend" or "professor," as these connote professional rather than
personal quality.

Our whole educational activities are under the thrall of this retrograde
spirit. We are marking time rather than moving forward. The work is
being carried on rather than up. Our bepuzzled pedagogues are seriously
reflecting over the query, _Cui bono?_--Is it worth while? Few, indeed,
are left who have the intensity of belief and the intrepidity of spirit
to defend the higher pretentions of the Negro without apology or
equivocation. The old form of appeal has become insipid and uninspiring;
the ear has become dull to its dinging. The old blade has become blunt
and needs a new sharpness of point and keenness of edge. Where now is
heard the tocsin call whose key-note a generation ago resounded from the
highlands of Kentucky and Tennessee to the plains of the Carolinas
calling the black youths, whose hopes ran high within their bosoms, to
rise and make for high