unregarded.

The writer fancies one may forecast the only reply likely to be brought forward under even a thin guise of plausibility. It will be said, as it is said, that the much-dreaded contamination of blood is the merest bugaboo. But nay! it is a tremendous and instant peril, against which eternal vigilance is the only safeguard, in whose presence it is vain and fatuous to cry "peace, peace" when there is no peace, a peril whose menace is sharpened by well-meant efforts at humanity and generosity, by seemingly just demands for social equality masquerading as "equal opportunity." The one adequate definition of this "equal opportunity" has been bravely given by that most able and eloquent Negroid, Prof. William H. Councill: "Will the White man permit the Negro to have an equal part in the industrial, political, social and civil advantages of the United States? This, as I understand it, is the problem." All this is quite beyond question to the mind that cherishes no illusions and insistently beholds things as they are. Neither is it less sure that even the Southern conscience needs quickening at this vital point. The writer has been appalled at the cool indifference with which amalgamation is contemplated as necessary and inevitable by certain highly intelligent philanthropists in the Southland. The matter is delicate and difficult to argue, and in the body of the book it has perhaps been stressed too lightly; but the danger signals are clearly discernible, even as they were to Prof. E. D. Cope, and it is madness not to heed them. If the race barrier be removed, and the individual standard of personal excellence be established, the twilight of this century will gather upon a nation hopelessly sinking in the mire of Mongrelism.

It can hardly be hoped that any reader will be satisfied with the glimpse here disclosed of the future. Certainly not the Negro, nor his apologists; nor even such as sympathize most fully with the writer. The solemn secular processes, to which the solution of the problem is relegated, are so very leisurely in their working, closing down upon their final result with the deliberation of a glacier, or like some slowly convergent infinite series. But Nature is once for all thus leaden-footed, and it is extremely difficult to quicken her pace.

We have bestowed merely a glance upon the scheme of Deportation, which is alas! not now a question of practical statesmanship, though it may indeed become one sooner than we think.

However, the outlook is not hopeless to him who has a sense of the world to come, who lives in his race, who feels the solidarity of its present with its future as well as with its past. "Of men that are just, the true saviour is Time." Besides, it seems not at all strange that a disease, chronic through centuries, should require centuries for its cure, that the multiplied echoes of the curse of African slavery should go sounding on, even to the years of many generations.

W. B. S.

Tulane University,
    25th October, 1904.

THE COLOR LINE

CHAPTER ONE

THE INDIVIDUAL? OR THE RACE?

In the controversy precipitated by the luncheon at the White House, and embittered by more recent procedures, the attitude of the South presents an element of the pathetic. The great world is apparently hopelessly against her. Three-fourths of the virtue, culture, and intelligence of the United States seems to view her with pitying scorn; the old mother, England, has no word of sympathy, but applauds the conduct that her daughter reprehends; the continent of Europe looks on with amused perplexity, as unable even to comprehend her position, so childish and absurd. Worst of all, she herself appears to have no far-reaching voice. However ably or earnestly her daily journals may plead her cause, their circle of readers rarely extends far beyond her own borders: she seems to be talking to herself or raving in a dream.

Under such conditions, why not appeal to her generous foes, to the Northern Press, to lend the mighty resonance of their own voice to the proclamation of the Southern plea? "Their tone has gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world." But the demands on their space are overwhelming; they hesitate before an article of more than fifteen pages, and they would not needlessly wound the sensibilities of their readers. No! The Southern plea, if it is to be made effective, must be presented in a book.

The present writer professes neither authority nor special fitness to speak for the South. No one but himself knows that he is framing or intends to frame this defense; but the situation appeals to him powerfully, and it is so transparent and so easily understood of any one here in the midst that he cannot believe he commits any sensible error in his statement of the case.

To begin, then, it is essential to any proper conduct of the discussion that the point at issue be clearly defined, and that all false issues be excluded rigorously and in terms. Unless we widely err, much current argumentation, especially at the North, is perverted by the fatal fallacy of mistaken aim. On the other hand, we shall not be at any pains to defend or excuse intemperance in the language of Southern writers or speakers; on this head we have no dispute with any one but are willing to admit, whether true or false, whatever may be charged.

What, then, is the real point at issue, and what does the South stand for in this contention—stand alone, friendless, despised, with the head and heart, the brain and brawn, the wealth and culture of the civilized world arrayed almost solidly against her? The answer is simple: She stands for blood, for the "continuous germ-plasma" of the Caucasian Race.

The South cares nothing, in themselves, for the personal friendships or appreciations of high-placed dignitaries and men of light and leading. She must concede to such and to all Northerners' and to all Europeans the abstract right to choose their associates and table company as they please. What she does maintain is, that in the South the colour line must be drawn firmly, unflinchingly—without deviation or interruption of any kind whatever.

It may be too much to affirm that in all extra-social matters—in politics, in business, in literature, in science, in art, everywhere but in society—even the best sentiment or practice of the South is eager to give the Negro strict justice, or ample scope, or free opportunity. Southerners are merely human; and there is, perhaps, no great historical example of an inferior race or class treated with all proper consideration by the superior. Certainly our Northern friends will hardly maintain that recent disclosures clearly show that their ruling corporate powers are humane, or generous, or even barely just towards the poor and humble, in their administration of the important industrial trusts which God has so wisely placed in their hands. They are giants, and it is the nature of giants to press hard. At this point, then, the South is or should be open to conviction. It is the part of statesmanship, as well as of humanity, continuously to adjust the relations of classes—much more so of races—so that the largest interests involved may be sacredly conserved and at the least possible sacrifice of any smaller interest that may conflict. More can hardly be expected in a world whose law is strife. Tried by this standard, it is very doubtful whether the South falls even one notch below the average set everywhere by the example of the ruling class. If she does, then let her bear the blame, with neither excuse nor extenuation for her shortcomings. But in the matter of social separation we can and we will make no concessions whatever. Neither dare we tolerate any violations