The Case for the Mulatto.
It is urged, as we have already seen, that the black man’s gain would not be the white man’s loss, but that the black race would bring to the white certain qualities of which it stands sorely in need, the result of the mixture being a more competent “vehicle of all the qualities and powers that we imply by humanity.” Has experience justified this speculation? We have ample experience to go upon—in South America, in the West Indies, in the Southern States themselves. The mulatto exists and has existed for generations, not in hundreds or thousands, but in millions; in what respect has he proved himself superior to the pure Spaniard, or Portuguese, or Anglo-Saxon? Does South American history bear testimony to his political competence? Have his achievements in science, in art, in literature, in music, been superior to those of the un-Africanized peoples? Or, waiving the question of superiority, has he even, in these domains, produced meritorious work in any fair proportion to his numbers? I do not say that it is impossible to make a sort of case for him, by the ransacking of records and the employment of a very indefinite standard of values. But I do most emphatically say that no conspicuous and undeniable advantage has resulted from the blending of bloods, such as can or ought to counteract the instinctive repugnance of the South.
In a work entitled “Twentieth Century Negro Literature,”[[65]] published in 1901, Mr. Edward E. Cooper, a mulatto journalist, quotes Byron’s lines:—
“You have the letters Cadmus gave;
Think ye he meant them for a slave?”
and then comments as follows:—
Now Cadmus was a black African slave, captured in war; so was Æsop, the world’s greatest fabulist; so was Terence, among the grandest of Rome’s lyric poets; so was Pushkin, the national poet to-day of Russia; so was Alexandre Dumas, the first, the greatest, not only of French novelists, but of novelists of all times, and the infinite storehouse from which all novelists draw, Honoré de Balzac and Charles Dickens to the contrary notwithstanding.
This writer can scarcely mean what he says—namely, that Alexandre Dumas and the rest were all black African slaves captured in war. We must interpret him liberally, and take him to be simply asserting the literary genius of the African race, whether pure or blended. A better case than this might doubtless be made for it; but a ten times better case would still be very far from a good case. And Mr. Edward E. Cooper is a fair average specimen of the negro champion of negro genius. Another spokesman of the race, by the way, in the same collection of essays, argues that if the Southern clergy had done their duty in denouncing lynching, there would have been no assassination of President McKinley, “nor would there be anywhere such an illiberal public sentiment as would openly criticize our Chief Executive for dining a representative member of the race whose feasts even Jupiter did not disdain to grace.”[[66]]