CHAPTER XVI
EUROPE
In 1893 I was married to Miss Margaret James Murray, a native of
Mississippi, and a graduate of Fisk University, in Nashville, Tenn., who had
come to Tuskegee as a teacher several years before, and at the time we were
married was filling the position of Lady Principal. Not only is Mrs.
Washington completely one with me in the work directly connected with the
school, relieving me of many burdens and perplexities, but aside from her
work on the school grounds, she carries on a mothers’ meeting in the town
of Tuskegee, and a plantation work among the women, children, and men who
live in a settlement connected with a large plantation about eight miles
from Tuskegee. Both the mothers’ meeting and the plantation work are
carried on, not only with a view to helping those who are directly reached,
but also for the purpose of furnishing object-lessons in these two kinds of
work that may be followed by our students when they go out into the world
for their own life-work.
Aside from these two enterprises, Mrs. Washington is also largely
responsible for a woman’s club at the school which brings together, twice
a month, the women who live on the school grounds and those who live near,
for the discussion of some important topic. She is also the President of
what is known as the Federation of Southern Colored Women’s Clubs, and is
Chairman of the Executive Committee of the National Federation of Colored
Women’s Clubs.
Portia, the oldest of my three children, has learned dressmaking. She has
unusual ability in instrumental music. Aside from her studies at Tuskegee,
she has already begun to teach there.
Booker Taliaferro is my next oldest child. Young as he is, he has already
nearly mastered the brick mason's trade. He began working at this trade when
he was quite small, dividing his time between this and class work; and he
has developed great skill in the trade and a fondness for it. He says that
he is going to be an architect and brick mason. One of the most satisfactory
letters that I have ever received from any one came to me from Booker, last
summer. When I left home for the summer, I told him that he must work at his
trade half of each day, and that the other half of the day he could spend as
he pleased. When I had been away from home two weeks, I received the
following letter from him:
Tuskegee, Alabama MY DEAR PAPA:
Before you left home you told me to work at my trade half of each day. I
like my work so much that I want to work at my trade all day. Besides, I
want to earn all the money I can, so that when I go to another school I
shall have money to pay my expenses.
Your son, BOOKER
My youngest child, Ernest Davidson Washington, says that he is going to be a
physician. In addition to going to school, where he studies books and has
manual training, he regularly spends a portion of his time in the office of
our resident physician, and has already learned to do many of the duties
which pertain to a doctor’s office.
The thing in my life which brings me the keenest regret is that my work in
connection with public affairs keeps me for so much of the time away from my
family, where, of all places in the world, I delight to be. I always envy
the individual whose life-work is so laid that he can spend his evenings at
home. I have sometimes thought that people who have this rare privilege do
not appreciate it as they should. It is such a rest and relief to get away
from crowds of people, and handshaking, and traveling, and get home, even if
it be for but a very brief while.
Another thing at Tuskegee out of which I get a great deal of pleasure and
satisfaction is in the meeting with our students, and teachers, and their
families, in the chapel for devotional exercises every evening at half-past
eight, the last thing before retiring for the night. It is an inspiring
sight when one stands on the platform there and sees before him eleven or
twelve hundred earnest young men and women; and one cannot but feel that it
is a privilege to help to guide them to a higher and more useful life.
In the spring of 1899 there came to me what I might describe as almost the
greatest surprise of my life. Some good ladies in Boston arranged a public
meeting in the interests of Tuskegee, to be held in the Hollis Street
Theatre. This meeting was attended by large numbers of the best people of
Boston, of both races.
Bishop Lawrence presided. In addition to an address made by myself, Mr. Paul
Lawrence Dunbar read from his poems, and Dr. W. E. B. Du Bois read an
original sketch. Some of those who attended this meeting noticed that I
seemed unusually tired, and some little time after the close of the meeting,
one of the ladies who had been interested in it asked me in a casual way if
I had ever been to Europe. I replied that I never had. She asked me if I had
ever thought of going, and I told her no; that it was something entirely
beyond me. This conversation soon passed out of my mind, but a few days
afterward I was informed that some friends in Boston, including Mr. Francis
J. Garrison, had raised a sum of money sufficient to pay all the expenses of
Mrs. Washington and myself during a three or four
months’ trip to Europe. It was added with emphasis that we must go. A year
previous to this Mr. Garrison had attempted to get me to promise to go to
Europe for a summer’s rest, with the understanding that he would be
responsible for raising the money among his friends for the expenses of the
trip. At that time such a journey seemed so entirely foreign to anything
that I should ever be able to undertake that I confess I did not give the
matter very serious attention; but later Mr. Garrison joined his efforts to
those of the ladies whom I have mentioned, and when their plans were made
known to me Mr. Garrison not only had the route mapped out, but had, I
believe, selected the steamer upon which we were to sail.
The whole thing was so sudden and so unexpected that I was completely taken
off my feet. I had been at work steadily for eighteen years in connection
with Tuskegee, and I had never thought of anything else but ending my life
in that way. Each day the school seemed to depend upon me more largely for
its daily expenses, and I told these Boston friends that, while I thanked
them sincerely for their thoughtfulness and generosity, I could not go to
Europe, for the reason that the school could not live financially while I
was absent. They then informed me that Mr. Henry L. Higginson, and some
other good friends who I know do not want their names made public, were then
raising a sum of money which would be sufficient to keep the school in
operation while I was away. At this point I was compelled to surrender.
Every avenue of escape had been closed.
Deep down in my heart the whole thing seemed more like a dream than like
reality, and for a long time it was difficult for me to make myself believe
that I was actually going to Europe. I had been born and largely reared in
the lowest depths of slavery, ignorance, and poverty. In my childhood I had
suffered for want of a place to sleep, for lack of food, clothing, and
shelter. I had not had the privilege of sitting down to a dining-table until
I was quite well grown. Luxuries had always seemed to me to be something
meant for white people, not for my race. I had always regarded Europe, and
London, and Paris, much as I regard heaven. And now could it be that I was
actually going to Europe? Such thoughts as these were constantly with me.
Two other thoughts troubled me a good deal. I feared that people who heard
that Mrs. Washington and I were going to Europe might not know all the
circumstances, and might get the idea that we had become, as some might say,
“stuck up,” and were trying to “show off.” I recalled that from my
youth I had heard it said that too often, when people of my race reached any
degree of success, they were inclined to unduly exalt themselves; to try and
ape the wealthy, and in so doing to lose their heads. The fear that people
might think this of us haunted me a good deal. Then, too, I could not see
how my conscience would permit me to spare the time from my work and be
happy. It seemed mean and selfish in me to be taking a vacation while others
were at work, and while there was so much that needed to be done. From the
time I could remember, I had always been at work, and I did not see how I
could spend three or four months in doing nothing. The fact was that I did
not know how to take a vacation.
Mrs. Washington had much the same difficulty in getting away, but she was
anxious to go because she thought that I needed the rest. There were many
important National questions bearing upon the life of the race which were
being agitated at that time, and this made it all the harder for us to
decide to go. We finally gave our Boston friends our promise that we would
go, and then they insisted that the date of our departure be set as soon as
possible. So we decided upon May 10. My good friend Mr. Garrison kindly took
charge of all the details necessary for the success of the trip, and he, as
well as other friends, gave us a great number of letters of introduction to
people in France and England, and made other arrangements for our comfort
and convenience abroad. Good-bys were said at Tuskegee, and we were in New
York May 9, ready to sail the next day. Our daughter Portia, who was then
studying in South Framingham, Mass., came to New York to see us off. Mr.
Scott, my secretary, came with me to New York, in order that I might clear
up the last bit of business before I left. Other friends also came to New
York to see us off. Just before we went on board the steamer another
pleasant surprise came to us in the form of a letter from two generous
ladies, stating that they had decided to give us the money with which to
erect a new building to be used in properly housing all our industries for
girls at Tuskegee.
We were to sail on the Friesland, of the Red Star Line, and a beautiful
vessel she was. We went on board just before noon, the hour of sailing. I
had never before been on board a large ocean steamer, and the feeling which
took possession of me when I found myself there is rather hard to describe.
It was a feeling, I think, of awe mingled with delight. We were agreeably
surprised to find that the captain, as well as several of the other
officers, not only knew who we were, but was expecting us and gave us a
pleasant greeting. There were several passengers whom we knew, including
Senator Sewell, of New Jersey, and Edward Marshall, the newspaper
correspondent. I had just a little fear that we would not be treated civilly
by some of the passengers. This fear was based upon what I had heard other
people of my race, who had crossed the ocean, say about unpleasant
experiences in crossing the ocean in American vessels. But in our case, from
the captain down to the most humble servant, we were treated with the
greatest kindness. Nor was this kindness confined to those who were
connected with the steamer; it was shown by all the passengers also. There
were not a few Southern men and women on board, and they were as cordial as
those from other parts of the country.
As soon as the last good-bys were said, and the steamer had cut loose from
the wharf, the load of care, anxiety, and responsibility which I had carried
for eighteen years began to lift itself from my shoulders at the rate, it
seemed to me, of a pound a minute. It was the first time in all those years
that I had felt, even in a measure, free from care; and my feeling of relief
it is hard to describe on paper.
Added to this was the delightful anticipation of being in Europe soon. It
all seemed more like a dream than like a reality.
Mr. Garrison had thoughtfully arranged to have us have one of the most
comfortable rooms on the ship. The second or third day out I began to sleep,
and I think that I slept at the rate of fifteen hours a day during the
remainder of the ten days’ passage. Then it was that I began to understand
how tired I really was.
These long sleeps I kept up for a month after we landed on the other side.
It was such an unusual feeling to wake up in the morning and realize that I
had no engagements; did not have to take a train at a certain hour; did not
have an appointment to meet some one, or to make an address, at a certain
hour. How different all this was from some of the experiences that I have
been through when traveling, when I have sometimes slept in three different
beds in a single night!
When Sunday came, the captain invited me to conduct the religious services,
but, not being a minister, I declined. The passengers, however, began making
requests that I deliver an address to them in the dining-salon some time
during the voyage, and this I consented to do. Senator Sewell presided at
this meeting. After ten days of delightful weather, during which I was not
seasick for a day, we landed at the interesting old city of Antwerp, in
Belgium.
The next day after we landed happened to be one of those numberless holidays
which the people of those countries are in the habit of observing. It was a
bright, beautiful day. Our room in the hotel faced the main public square,
and the sights there- the people coming in from the country with all kinds
of beautiful flowers to sell, the women coming in with their dogs drawing
large, brightly polished cans filled with milk, the people streaming into
the cathedral- filled me with a sense of newness that I had never before
experienced.
After spending some time in Antwerp, we were invited to go with a party of a
half-dozen persons on a trip through Holland. This party included Edward
Marshall and some American artists who had come over on the same steamer
with us.
We accepted the invitation, and enjoyed the trip greatly. I think it was all
the more interesting and instructive because we went for most of the way on
one of the slow, old-fashioned canal-boats. This gave us an opportunity of
seeing and studying the real life of the people in the country districts. We
went in this way as far as Rotterdam, and later went to The Hague, where the
Peace Conference was then in session, and where we were kindly received by
the American representatives.
The thing that impressed itself most on me in Holland was the thoroughness
of the agriculture and the excellence of the Holstein cattle. I never knew,
before visiting Holland, how much it was possible for people to get out of a
small plot of ground. It seemed to me that absolutely no land was wasted. It
was worth a trip to Holland, too, just to get a sight of three or four
hundred fine Holstein cows grazing in one of those intensely green fields.
From Holland we went to Belgium, and made a hasty trip through that country,
stopping at Brussels, where we visited the battlefield of Waterloo. From
Belgium we went direct to Paris, where we found that Mr. Theodore Stanton,
the son of Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, had kindly provided accommodations
for us. We had barely got settled in Paris before an invitation came to me
from the University Club of Paris to be its guest at a banquet which was
soon to be given. The
other guests were ex-President Benjamin Harrison and Archbishop Ireland, who
were in Paris at the time. The American Ambassador, General Horace Porter,
presided at the banquet. My address on this occasion seemed to give
satisfaction to those who heard it. General Harrison kindly devoted a large
portion of his remarks at dinner to myself and to the influence of the work
at Tuskegee on the American race question. After my address at this banquet
other invitations came to me, but I declined the most of them, knowing that
if I accepted them all, the object of my visit would be defeated. I did,
however, consent to deliver an address in the American chapel the following
Sunday morning, and at this meeting General Harrison, General Porter, and
other distinguished Americans were present.
Later we received a formal call from the American Ambassador, and were
invited to attend a reception at his residence. At this reception we met
many Americans, among them Justices Fuller and Harlan, of the United States
Supreme Court. During our entire stay of a month in Paris, both the American
Ambassador and his wife, as well as several other Americans, were very kind
to us.
While in Paris we saw a good deal of the now famous American Negro painter,
Mr. Henry C. Tanner, whom we had formerly known in America. It was very
satisfactory to find how well known Mr. Tanner was in the field of art, and
to note the high standing which all classes accorded to him. When we told
some Americans that we were going to the Luxembourg Palace to see a painting
by an American Negro, it was hard to convince them that a Negro had been
thus honored. I do not believe that they were really convinced of the fact
until they saw the picture for themselves. My acquaintance with Mr. Tanner
reinforced in my mind the truth which I am constantly trying to impress upon
our students at Tuskegee- and on our people throughout the country, as far
as I can reach them with my voice- that any man, regardless of color, will
be recognized and rewarded just in proportion as he learns to do something
well- learns to do it better than some one else- however humble the thing
may be. As I have said, I believe that my race will succeed in proportion as
it learns to do a common thing in an uncommon manner; learns to do a thing
so thoroughly that no one can improve upon what it has done; learns to make
its services of indispensable value. This was the spirit that inspired me in
my first effort at Hampton, when I was given the opportunity to sweep and
dust that schoolroom. In a degree I felt that my whole future life depended
upon the thoroughness with which I cleaned that room, and I was determined
to do it so well that no one could find any fault with the job. Few people
ever stopped, I found, when looking at his pictures, to inquire whether Mr.
Tanner was a Negro painter, a French painter, or a German painter. They
simply knew that he was able to produce something which the world wanted- a
great painting- and the matter of his color did not enter into their minds.
When a Negro girl learns to cook, to wash dishes, to sew, to write a book,
or a Negro boy learns to groom horses, or to grow sweet potatoes, or to
produce butter, or to build a house, or to be able to practice medicine, as
well or better than some one else, they will be rewarded regardless of race
or color. In the long run, the world is going to have the best, and any
difference in race, religion, or previous history will not long keep the
world from what it wants.
I think that the whole future of my race hinges on the question as to
whether or not it can make itself of such indispensable value that the
people in the town and the state where we reside will feel that our presence
is necessary to the happiness and well-being of the community. No man who
continues to add something to the material, intellectual, and moral
well-being of the place in which he lives is long left without proper
reward. This is a great human law which cannot be permanently nullified.
The love of pleasure and excitement which seems in a large measure to
possess the French people impressed itself upon me. I think they are more
noted in this respect than is true of the people of my own race. In point of
morality and moral earnestness I do not believe that the French are ahead of
my own race in America. Severe competition and the great stress of life have
led them to learn to do things more thoroughly, and to exercise greater
economy; but time, I think, will bring my race to the same point. In the
matter of truth and high honor I do not believe that the average Frenchman
is ahead of the American Negro; while so far as mercy and kindness to dumb
animals go, I believe that my race is far ahead. In fact, when I left
France, I had more faith in the future of the black man in America than I
had ever possessed.
From Paris we went to London, and reached there early in July, just about
the height of the London social season. Parliament was in session, and there
was a great deal of gaiety. Mr. Garrison and other friends had provided us
with a large number of letters of introduction, and they had also sent
letters to other persons in different parts of the United Kingdom, apprising
these people of our coming.
Very soon after reaching London we were flooded with invitations to attend
all manner of social functions, and a great many invitations came to me
asking that I deliver public addresses. The most of these invitations I
declined, for the reason that I wanted to rest. Neither were we able to
accept more than a small proportion of the other invitations. The Rev. Dr.
Brooke Herford and Mrs. Herford, whom I had known in Boston, consulted with
the American Ambassador, the Hon. Joseph Choate, and arranged for me to
speak at a public meeting to be held in Exeter Hall. Mr. Choate kindly
consented to preside. The meeting was largely attended.
There were many distinguished persons present, among them several members of
Parliament, including Mr. James Bryce, who spoke at the meeting. What the
American Ambassador said in introducing me, as well as a synopsis of what I
said, was widely published in England and in the American papers at the
time.
Dr. and Mrs. Herford gave Mrs. Washington and myself a reception, at which
we had the privilege of meeting some of the best people in England.
Throughout our stay in London Ambassador Choate was most kind and attentive
to us. At the Ambassador’s reception I met, for the first time, Mark
Twain.
We were the guests several times of Mrs. T. Fisher Unwin, the daughter of
the English statesman, Richard Cobden. It seemed as if both Mr. and Mrs.
Unwin could not do enough for our comfort and happiness. Later, for nearly a
week, we
were the guests of the daughter of John Bright, now Mrs. Clark, of Street,
England. Both Mr. and Mrs. Clark, with their daughter, visited us at
Tuskegee the next year. In Birmingham, England, we were the guests for
several days of Mr.
Joseph Sturge, whose father was a great abolitionist and friend of Whittier
and Garrison. It was a great privilege to meet throughout England those who
had known and honored the late William Lloyd Garrison, the Hon. Frederick
Douglass, and other abolitionists. The English abolitionists with whom we
came in contact never seemed to tire of talking about these two Americans.
Before going to England I had had no proper conception of the deep interest
displayed by the abolitionists of England in the cause of freedom, nor did I
realize the amount of substantial help given by them.
In Bristol, England, both Mrs. Washington and I spoke at the Women’s
Liberal Club. I was also the principal speaker at the Commencement exercises
of the Royal College for the Blind. These exercises were held in the Crystal
Palace, and the presiding officer was the late Duke of Westminster, who was
said to be, I believe, the richest man in England, if not in the world. The
Duke, as well as his wife and their daughter, seemed to be pleased with what
I said, and thanked me heartily. Through the kindness of Lady Aberdeen, my
wife and I were enabled to go with a party of those who were attending the
International Congress of Women, then in session in London, to see Queen
Victoria, at Windsor Castle, where, afterward, we were all the guests of her
Majesty at tea. In our party was Miss Susan B. Anthony, and I was deeply
impressed with the fact that one did not often get an opportunity to see,
during the same hour, two women so remarkable in different ways as Susan B.
Anthony and Queen Victoria.
In the House of Commons, which we visited several times, we met Sir Henry M.
Stanley. I talked with him about Africa and its relation to the American
Negro, and after my interview with him I became more convinced than ever
that there was no hope of the American Negro’s improving his condition by
emigrating to Africa.
On various occasions Mrs. Washington and I were the guests of Englishmen in
their country homes, where, I think, one sees the Englishman at his best. In
one thing, at least, I feel sure that the English are ahead of Americans,
and that is, that they have learned how to get more out of life. The home
life of the English seems to me to be about as perfect as anything can be.
Everything moves like clockwork. I was impressed, too, with the deference
that the servants show to their “masters” and “mistresses”- terms
which I suppose would not be tolerated in America. The English servant
expects, as a rule, to be nothing but a servant, and so he perfects himself
in the art to a degree that no class of servants in America has yet reached.
In our country, the servant expects to become, in a few years, a “master”
himself. Which system is preferable? I will not venture an answer.
Another thing that impressed itself upon me throughout England was the high
regard that all classes have for law and order, and the ease and
thoroughness with which everything is done. The Englishman, I found, took
plenty of time for eating, as for everything else. I am not sure if, in the
long run, they do not accomplish as much or more than rushing, nervous
Americans do.
My visit to England gave me a higher regard for the nobility than I had had.
I had no idea that they were so generally loved and respected by the masses,
nor had I any correct conception of how much time and money they spent in
works of philanthropy, and how much real heart they put into this work. My
impression had been that they merely spent money freely and had a “good
time.” It was hard for me to get accustomed to speaking to English
audiences. The average Englishman is so serious, and is so tremendously in
earnest about everything, that when I told a story that would have made an
American audience roar with laughter, the Englishmen simply looked me
straight in the face without even cracking a smile.
When the Englishman takes you into his heart and friendship, he binds you
there as with cords of steel, and I do not believe that there are many other
friendships that are so lasting or so satisfactory. Perhaps I can illustrate
this point in no better way than by relating the following incident. Mrs.
Washington and I were invited to attend a reception given by the Duke and
Duchess of Sutherland, at Stafford House- said to be the finest house in
London; I may add that I believe the Duchess of Sutherland is said to be the
most beautiful woman in England.
There must have been at least three hundred persons at this reception. Twice
during the evening the Duchess sought us out for a conversation, and she
asked me to write her when we got home, and tell her more about the work at
Tuskegee.
This I did. When Christmas came we were surprised and delighted to receive
her photograph with her autograph on it. The correspondence has continued,
and we now feel that in the Duchess of Sutherland we have one of our warmest
friends.
After three months in Europe we sailed from Southampton in the steamship St.
Louis. On this steamer there was a fine library that had been presented to
the ship by the citizens of St. Louis, Mo. In this library I found a life of
Frederick Douglass, which I began reading. I became especially interested in
Mr. Douglass’s description of the way he was treated on shipboard during
his first or second visit to England. In this description he told how he was
not permitted to enter the cabin, but had to confine himself to the deck of
the ship. A few minutes after I had finished reading this description I was
waited on by a committee of ladies and gentlemen with the request that I
deliver an address at a concert which was to be given the following evening.
And yet there are people who are bold enough to say that race feeling in
America is not growing less intense! At this concert the Hon. Benjamin B.
Odell, Jr., the present Governor of New York, presided. I was never given a
more cordial hearing anywhere. A large proportion of the passengers were
Southern people. After the concert some of the passengers proposed that a
subscription be raised to help the work at Tuskegee, and the money to
support several scholarships was the result.
While we were in Paris I was very pleasantly surprised to receive the
following invitation from the citizens of West Virginia and of the city near
which I had spent my boyhood days:
Charleston, W. Va.
May 16, 1899 Professor Booker T. Washington, Paris, France
DEAR SIR:
Many of the best citizens of West Virginia have united in liberal
expressions of admiration and praise of your worth and work, and desire that
on your return from Europe you should favor them with your presence and with
the inspiration of your words. We most sincerely indorse this move, and on
behalf of the citizens of Charleston extend to you our most cordial
invitation to have you come to us, that we may honor you who have done so
much by your life and work to honor us.
We are, Very truly yours, THE COMMON COUNCIL OF THE CITY OF CHARLESTON by W.
HERMAN SMITH, Mayor
This invitation from the City Council of Charleston was accompanied by the
following:
Professor Booker T. Washington, Paris, France
DEAR SIR:
We, the citizens of Charleston and West Virginia, desire to express our
pride in you and the splendid career that you have thus far accomplished,
and ask that we be permitted to show our pride and interest in a substantial
way.
Your recent visit to your old home in our midst awoke within us the keenest
regret that we were not permitted to hear you and render some substantial
aid to your work before you left for Europe.
In view of the foregoing, we earnestly invite you to share the hospitality
of our city upon your return from Europe, and give us the opportunity to
hear you and put ourselves in touch with your work in a way that will be
most gratifying to yourself, and that we may receive the inspiration of your
words and presence.
An early reply to this invitation, with an indication of the time you may
reach our city, will greatly oblige, Yours very respectfully, The Charleston
Daily Gazette; The Daily Mail Tribune; G. W. Atkinson, Governor; E. L.
Boggs, Secretary to Governor; Wm. M. O. Dawson, Secretary of
State; L. M. La Follette, Auditor; J. R. Trotter, Superintendent of Schools;
E. W.
Wilson, ex-Governor; W. A. MacCorkle, ex-Governor; John Q. Dickinson,
President Kanawha Valley Bank; L. Prichard, President Charleston National
Bank; Geo. S. Couch, President Kanawha National Bank; Ed. Reid, Cashier
Kanawha National Bank; Geo. S. Laidley, Superintendent City Schools; L. E.
McWhorter, President Board of Education; Chas. K. Payne, wholesale merchant;
and many others.
This invitation, coming as it did from the City Council, the state officers,
and all the substantial citizens of both races of the community where I had
spent my boyhood, and from which I had gone a few years before, unknown, in
poverty and ignorance, in quest of an education, not only surprised me, but
almost unmanned me. I could not understand what I had done to deserve it
all.
I accepted the invitation, and at the appointed day was met at the railway
station at Charleston by a committee headed by ex-Governor W. A. MacCorkle,
and composed of men of both races. The public reception was held in the
Opera House at Charleston. The Governor of the state, the Hon. George W.
Atkinson, presided, and an address of welcome was made by ex-Governor
MacCorkle. A prominent part in the reception was taken by the colored
citizens. The Opera House was filled with citizens of both races, and among
the white people were many for whom I had worked when a boy. The next day
Governor and Mrs. Atkinson gave me a public reception at the State House,
which was attended by all classes.
Not long after this the colored people in Atlanta, Georgia, gave me a
reception at which the Governor of the state presided, and a similar
reception was given me in New Orleans, which was presided over by the Mayor
of the city. Invitations came from many other places which I was not able to
accept.