Imperium in Imperio: A Study of the Negro Race Problem | Page 2

my race is but a part.
My race may, for the time being, shower curses upon me; but
eventually all races, including my own, shall call me blessed.
The earth, in anger, may belch forth my putrid flesh with volcanic fury,
but the out-stretched arms of God will receive my spirit as a token of
approval of what I have done.
With my soul feasting on this happy thought, I send this revelation to

mankind and yield my body to the executioner to be shot until I am
dead.
Though death stands just before me, holding before my eyes my
intended shroud woven of the cloth of infamy itself, I shrink not back.
Yours, doomed to die, BERL TROUT.

IMPERIUM IN IMPERIO

CHAPTER I
A SMALL BEGINNING.
"Cum er long hunny an' let yer mammy fix yer 'spectabul, so yer ken go
to skule. Yer mammy is 'tarmined ter gib yer all de book larning dar is
ter be had eben ef she has ter lib on bred an' herrin's, an' die en de a'ms
house."
These words came from the lips of a poor, ignorant negro woman, and
yet the determined course of action which they reveal vitally affected
the destiny of a nation and saved the sun of the Nineteenth Century,
proud and glorious, from passing through, near its setting, the blackest
and thickest and ugliest clouds of all its journey; saved it from ending
the most brilliant of brilliant careers by setting, with a shudder of
horror, in a sea of human blood.
Those who doubt that such power could emanate from such weakness;
or, to change the figure, that such a tiny star could have dimensions
greater than those of earth, may have every vestige of doubt removed
by a perusal of this simple narrative.
Let us now acquaint ourselves with the circumstances under which the
opening words of our story were spoken. To do this, we must need lead
our readers into humble and commonplace surroundings, a fact that
will not come in the nature of a surprise to those who have traced the
proud, rushing, swelling river to the mountain whence it comes
trickling forth, meekly and humbly enough.

The place was Winchester, an antiquated town, located near the
northwestern corner of the State of Virginia.
In October of the year 1867, the year in which our story begins, a white
man by the name of Tiberius Gracchus Leonard had arrived in
Winchester, and was employed as teacher of the school for colored
children.
Mrs. Hannah Piedmont, the colored woman whom we have presented
to our readers as addressing her little boy, was the mother of five
children,--three girls and two boys. In the order of their ages, the names
of her children were: James Henry, aged fifteen, Amanda Ann, aged
thirteen, Eliza Jane, aged eleven, Belton, aged eight, and Celestine,
aged five. Several years previous to the opening of our history, Mr.
Piedmont had abandoned his wife and left her to rear the children
alone.
School opened in October, and as fast as she could get books and
clothing Mrs. Piedmont sent her children to school. James Henry,
Amanda Ann, and Eliza Jane were sent at about a week's interval.
Belton and Celestine were then left--Celestine being regarded as too
young to go. This morning we find Belton's mother preparing him for
school, and we shall stand by and watch the preparations.
The house was low and squatty and was built of rock. It consisted of
one room only, and over this there was a loft, the hole to climb into
which was in plain view of any one in the room. There was only one
window to the house and that one was only four feet square. Two panes
of this were broken out and the holes were stuffed with rags. In one
corner of the room there stood a bed in which Mrs. Piedmont and
Amanda Ann slept. Under this was a trundle bed in which Eliza Jane
and Celestine slept at the head, while Belton slept at the foot. James
Henry climbed into the loft and slept there on a pallet of straw. The
cooking was done in a fireplace which was on the side of the house
opposite the window. Three chairs, two of which had no backs to them,
completed the articles in the room.
In one of these chairs Mrs. Piedmont was sitting, while Belton stood

before her all dressed and ready to go to school, excepting that his face
was not washed.
It might be interesting to note his costume. The white lady for whom
Mrs. Piedmont washed each week had given her two much-torn pairs of
trousers, discarded by her young son. One pair was of linen and the
other of navy blue. A leg from