These thousand
young men and women about me were victims of it. I, too, was an
innocent victim of it. The whole Republic was a victim of that
fundamental error of importing Africa into America. I held firmly
to the first article of my faith that the Republic must stand
fast by the principle of a fair ballot; but I recalled the
wretched mess that Reconstruction had made of it; I recalled the
low level of public life in all the "black" States. Every effort
of philanthropy seemed to have miscarried, every effort at
correcting abuses seemed of doubtful value, and the race friction
seemed to become severer. Here was the century-old problem in all
its pathos seated singing before me. Who were the more to be
pitied--these innocent victims of an ancient wrong, or I and men
like me, who had inherited the problem? I had long ago thrown
aside illusions and theories, and was willing to meet the facts
face to face, and to do whatever in God's name a man might do
towards saving the next generation from such a burden. But I felt
the weight of twenty well-nigh hopeless years of thought and
reading and observation; for the old difficulties remained and
new ones had sprung up. Then I saw clearly that the way out of a
century of blunders had been made by this man who stood beside me
and was introducing me to this audience.
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