All night long crying with a mournful cry,
As I lie and listen, and cannot understand
The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea,
O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?
All night long the water is crying to me.
Unresting water, there shall never be rest
Till the last moon droop1 and the last tide fail,
And the fire of the end begin to burn in the west;
And the heart shall be weary and wonder and cry like the sea,
All life long crying without avail,
As the water all night long is crying to me.
ARTHUR SYMONS.
Between me and the other world there is ever an unasked question: unasked by some through feelings of delicacy2; by others through the difficulty of rightly framing it. All, nevertheless, flutter round it. They approach me in a half-hesitant sort of way, eye me curiously3 or compassionately4, and then, instead of saying directly, How does it feel to be a problem? they say, I know an excellent colored man in my town; or, I fought at Mechanicsville; or, Do not these Southern outrages5 make your blood boil? At these I smile, or am interested, or reduce the boiling to a simmer, as the occasion may require. To the real question, How does it feel to be a problem? I answer seldom a word.
And yet, being a problem is a strange experience,—peculiar6 even for one who has never been anything else, save perhaps in babyhood and in Europe. It is in the early days of rollicking boyhood that the revelation first bursts upon one, all in a day, as it were. I remember well when the shadow swept across me. I was a little thing, away up in the hills of New England, where the dark Housatonic winds between Hoosac and Taghkanic to the sea. In a wee wooden schoolhouse, something put it into the boys' and girls' heads to buy gorgeous visiting-cards—ten cents a package—and exchange. The exchange was merry, till one girl, a tall newcomer, refused my card,—refused it peremptorily7, with a glance. Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing8, but shut out from their world by a vast veil. I had thereafter no desire to tear down that veil, to creep through; I held all beyond it in common contempt, and lived above it in a region of blue sky and great wandering shadows. That sky was bluest when I could beat my mates at examination-time, or beat them at a foot-race, or even beat their stringy heads. Alas9, with the years all this fine contempt began to fade; for the words I longed for, and all their dazzling opportunities, were theirs, not mine. But they should not keep these prizes, I said; some, all, I would wrest10 from them. Just how I would do it I could never decide: by reading law, by healing the sick, by telling the wonderful tales that swam in my head,—some way. With other black boys the strife11 was not so fiercely sunny: their youth shrunk into tasteless sycophancy12, or into silent hatred13 of the pale world about them and mocking distrust of everything white; or wasted itself in a bitter cry, Why did God make me an outcast and a stranger in mine own house? The shades of the prison-house closed round about us all: walls strait and stubborn to the whitest, but relentlessly14 narrow, tall, and unscalable to sons of night who must plod15 darkly on in resignation, or beat unavailing palms against the stone, or steadily16, half hopelessly, watch the streak17 of blue above.
After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world,—a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder18.
The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife,—this longing to attain19 self-conscious manhood, to merge20 his double self into a better and truer self. In this merging21 he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa. He would not bleach22 his Negro soul in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.
This, then, is the end of his striving: to be a co-worker in the kingdom of culture, to escape both death and isolation23, to husband and use his best powers and his latent genius. These powers of body and mind have in the past been strangely wasted, dispersed24, or forgotten. The shadow of a mighty25 Negro past flits through the tale of Ethiopia the Shadowy and of Egypt the Sphinx. Through history, the powers of single black men flash here and there like falling stars, and die sometimes before the world has rightly gauged26 their brightness. Here in America, in the few days since Emancipation27, the black man's turning hither and thither28 in hesitant and doubtful striving has often made his very strength to lose effectiveness, to seem like absence of power, like weakness. And yet it is not weakness,—it is the contradiction of double aims. The double-aimed struggle of the black artisan—on the one hand to escape white contempt for a nation of mere29 hewers of wood and drawers of water, and on the other hand to plough and nail and dig for a poverty-stricken horde—could only result in making him a poor craftsman30, for he had but half a heart in either cause. By the poverty and ignorance of his people, the Negro minister or doctor was tempted31 toward quackery32 and demagogy; and by the criticism of the other world, toward ideals that made him ashamed of his lowly tasks. The would-be black savant was confronted by the paradox33 that the knowledge his people needed was a twice-told tale to his white neighbors, while the knowledge which would teach the white world was Greek to his own flesh and blood. The innate34 love of harmony and beauty that set the ruder souls of his people a-dancing and a-singing raised but confusion and doubt in the soul of the black artist; for the beauty revealed to him was the soul-beauty of a race which his larger audience despised, and he could not articulate the message of another people. This waste of double aims, this seeking to satisfy two unreconciled ideals, has wrought35 sad havoc36 with the courage and faith and deeds of ten thousand thousand people,—has sent them often wooing false gods and invoking37 false means of salvation38, and at times has even seemed about to make them ashamed of themselves.
Away back in the days of bondage39 they thought to see in one divine event the end of all doubt and disappointment; few men ever worshipped Freedom with half such unquestioning faith as did the American Negro for two centuries. To him, so far as he thought and dreamed, slavery was indeed the sum of all villainies, the cause of all sorrow, the root of all prejudice; Emancipation was the key to a promised land of sweeter beauty than ever stretched before the eyes of wearied Israelites. In song and exhortation40 swelled41 one refrain—Liberty; in his tears and curses the God he implored42 had Freedom in his right hand. At last it came,—suddenly, fearfully, like a dream. With one wild carnival43 of blood and passion came the message in his own plaintive44 cadences:—
"Shout, O children!
Shout, you're free!
For God has bought your liberty!"
Years have passed away since then,—ten, twenty, forty; forty years of national life, forty years of renewal45 and development, and yet the swarthy spectre sits in its accustomed seat at the Nation's feast. In vain do we cry to this our vastest social problem:—
"Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble!"
The Nation has not yet found peace from its sins; the freedman has not yet found in freedom his promised land. Whatever of good may have come in these years of change, the shadow of a deep disappointment rests upon the Negro people,—a disappointment all the more bitter because the unattained ideal was unbounded save by the simple ignorance of a lowly people.
The first decade was merely a prolongation of the vain search for freedom, the boon46 that seemed ever barely to elude47 their grasp,—like a tantalizing48 will-o'-the-wisp, maddening and misleading the headless host. The holocaust49 of war, the terrors of the Ku-Klux Klan, the lies of carpet-baggers, the disorganization of industry, and the contradictory50 advice of friends and foes51, left the bewildered serf with no new watchword beyond the old cry for freedom. As the time flew, however, he began to grasp a new idea. The ideal of liberty demanded for its attainment52 powerful means, and these the Fifteenth Amendment53 gave him. The ballot54, which before he had looked upon as a visible sign of freedom, he now regarded as the chief means of gaining and perfecting the liberty with which war had partially55 endowed him. And why not? Had not votes made war and emancipated56 millions? Had not votes enfranchised57 the freedmen? Was anything impossible to a power that had done all this? A million black men started with renewed zeal58 to vote themselves into the kingdom. So the decade flew away, the revolution of 1876 came, and left the half-free serf weary, wondering, but still inspired. Slowly but steadily, in the following years, a new vision began gradually to replace the dream of political power,—a powerful movement, the rise of another ideal to guide the unguided, another pillar of fire by night after a clouded day. It was the ideal of "book-learning"; the curiosity, born of compulsory59 ignorance, to know and test the power of the cabalistic letters of the white man, the longing to know. Here at last seemed to have been discovered the mountain path to Canaan; longer than the highway of Emancipation and law, steep and rugged60, but straight, leading to heights high enough to overlook life.
Up the new path the advance guard toiled61, slowly, heavily, doggedly62; only those who have watched and guided the faltering63 feet, the misty64 minds, the dull understandings, of the dark pupils of these schools know how faithfully, how piteously, this people strove to learn. It was weary work. The cold statistician wrote down the inches of progress here and there, noted65 also where here and there a foot had slipped or some one had fallen. To the tired climbers, the horizon was ever dark, the mists were often cold, the Canaan was always dim and far away. If, however, the vistas66 disclosed as yet no goal, no resting-place, little but flattery and criticism, the journey at least gave leisure for reflection and self-examination; it changed the child of Emancipation to the youth with dawning self-consciousness, self-realization67, self-respect. In those sombre forests of his striving his own soul rose before him, and he saw himself,—darkly as through a veil; and yet he saw in himself some faint revelation of his power, of his mission. He began to have a dim feeling that, to attain his place in the world, he must be himself, and not another. For the first time he sought to analyze68 the burden he bore upon his back, that dead-weight of social degradation69 partially masked behind a half-named Negro problem. He felt his poverty; without a cent, without a home, without land, tools, or savings70, he had entered into competition with rich, landed, skilled neighbors. To be a poor man is hard, but to be a poor race in a land of dollars is the very bottom of hardships. He felt the weight of his ignorance,—not simply of letters, but of life, of business, of the humanities; the accumulated sloth71 and shirking and awkwardness of decades and centuries shackled72 his hands and feet. Nor was his burden all poverty and ignorance. The red stain of bastardy73, which two centuries of systematic74 legal defilement75 of Negro women had stamped upon his race, meant not only the loss of ancient African chastity, but also the hereditary76 weight of a mass of corruption77 from white adulterers, threatening almost the obliteration78 of the Negro home.
A people thus handicapped ought not to be asked to race with the world, but rather allowed to give all its time and thought to its own social problems. But alas! while sociologists gleefully count his bastards79 and his prostitutes, the very soul of the toiling80, sweating black man is darkened by the shadow of a vast despair. Men call the shadow prejudice, and learnedly explain it as the natural defence of culture against barbarism, learning against ignorance, purity against crime, the "higher" against the "lower" races. To which the Negro cries Amen! and swears that to so much of this strange prejudice as is founded on just homage81 to civilization, culture, righteousness, and progress, he humbly82 bows and meekly83 does obeisance84. But before that nameless prejudice that leaps beyond all this he stands helpless, dismayed, and well-nigh speechless; before that personal disrespect and mockery, the ridicule85 and systematic humiliation86, the distortion of fact and wanton license87 of fancy, the cynical88 ignoring of the better and the boisterous89 welcoming of the worse, the all-pervading desire to inculcate disdain90 for everything black, from Toussaint to the devil,—before this there rises a sickening despair that would disarm91 and discourage any nation save that black host to whom "discouragement" is an unwritten word.
But the facing of so vast a prejudice could not but bring the inevitable92 self-questioning, self-disparagement, and lowering of ideals which ever accompany repression93 and breed in an atmosphere of contempt and hate. Whisperings and portents94 came home upon the four winds: Lo! we are diseased and dying, cried the dark hosts; we cannot write, our voting is vain; what need of education, since we must always cook and serve? And the Nation echoed and enforced this self-criticism, saying: Be content to be servants, and nothing more; what need of higher culture for half-men? Away with the black man's ballot, by force or fraud,—and behold95 the suicide of a race! Nevertheless, out of the evil came something of good,—the more careful adjustment of education to real life, the clearer perception of the Negroes' social responsibilities, and the sobering realization of the meaning of progress.
So dawned the time of Sturm und Drang: storm and stress to-day rocks our little boat on the mad waters of the world-sea; there is within and without the sound of conflict, the burning of body and rending96 of soul; inspiration strives with doubt, and faith with vain questionings. The bright ideals of the past,—physical freedom, political power, the training of brains and the training of hands,—all these in turn have waxed and waned97, until even the last grows dim and overcast98. Are they all wrong,—all false? No, not that, but each alone was over-simple and incomplete,—the dreams of a credulous99 race-childhood, or the fond imaginings of the other world which does not know and does not want to know our power. To be really true, all these ideals must be melted and welded into one. The training of the schools we need to-day more than ever,—the training of deft100 hands, quick eyes and ears, and above all the broader, deeper, higher culture of gifted minds and pure hearts. The power of the ballot we need in sheer self-defence,—else what shall save us from a second slavery? Freedom, too, the long-sought, we still seek,—the freedom of life and limb, the freedom to work and think, the freedom to love and aspire101. Work, culture, liberty,—all these we need, not singly but together, not successively but together, each growing and aiding each, and all striving toward that vaster ideal that swims before the Negro people, the ideal of human brotherhood102, gained through the unifying103 ideal of Race; the ideal of fostering and developing the traits and talents of the Negro, not in opposition104 to or contempt for other races, but rather in large conformity105 to the greater ideals of the American Republic, in order that some day on American soil two world-races may give each to each those characteristics both so sadly lack. We the darker ones come even now not altogether empty-handed: there are to-day no truer exponents106 of the pure human spirit of the Declaration of Independence than the American Negroes; there is no true American music but the wild sweet melodies of the Negro slave; the American fairy tales and folklore107 are Indian and African; and, all in all, we black men seem the sole oasis108 of simple faith and reverence109 in a dusty desert of dollars and smartness. Will America be poorer if she replace her brutal110 dyspeptic blundering with light-hearted but determined111 Negro humility112? or her coarse and cruel wit with loving jovial113 good-humor? or her vulgar music with the soul of the Sorrow Songs?
Merely a concrete test of the underlying114 principles of the great republic is the Negro Problem, and the spiritual striving of the freedmen's sons is the travail115 of souls whose burden is almost beyond the measure of their strength, but who bear it in the name of an historic race, in the name of this the land of their fathers' fathers, and in the name of human opportunity.
And now what I have briefly116 sketched117 in large outline let me on coming pages tell again in many ways, with loving emphasis and deeper detail, that men may listen to the striving in the souls of black folk.
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1
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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3
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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8
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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10
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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sycophancy
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| n.拍马屁，奉承，谄媚；吮痈舐痔 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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plod
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| v.沉重缓慢地走，孜孜地工作 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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merge
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| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
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merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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bleach
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| vt.使漂白；vi.变白；n.漂白剂 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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gauged
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| adj.校准的；标准的；量规的；量计的v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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quackery
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| n.庸医的医术，骗子的行为 | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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wrought
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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invoking
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| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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tantalizing
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| adj.逗人的；惹弄人的；撩人的；煽情的v.逗弄，引诱，折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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holocaust
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| n.大破坏；大屠杀 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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ballot
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| n.（不记名）投票，投票总数，投票权；vi.投票 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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emancipated
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| adj.被解放的，不受约束的v.解放某人（尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚）( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enfranchised
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| v.给予选举权( enfranchise的过去式和过去分词 )；（从奴隶制中）解放 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bastardy
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| 私生子，庶出； 非婚生 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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defilement
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| n.弄脏，污辱，污秽 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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obliteration
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| n.涂去，删除；管腔闭合 | |
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bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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portents
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| n.预兆( portent的名词复数 )；征兆；怪事；奇物 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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unifying
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| 使联合( unify的现在分词 )； 使相同； 使一致； 统一 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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exponents
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| n.倡导者( exponent的名词复数 )；说明者；指数；能手 | |
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folklore
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| n.民间信仰，民间传说，民俗 | |
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oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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112
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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travail
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| n.阵痛；努力 | |
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116
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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