Imperium in Imperio: A Study of the Negro Race Problem | Page 9

Belton did; but
defeat was ever galling to him, and he, too, had determined to win.
The teacher often reviewed the progress made by Bernard on his
oration, but did not notice Belton's at all. He strove to make Bernard's
oration as nearly perfect as labor and skill could make it. But Belton
was not asleep as to either of the resolutions he had formed. Some
nights he could be seen stealing away from the congressman's residence.
On others he could be seen leaving the neighborhood of the school,
with a spade in one hand and a few carpenter's tools in the other.
He went to the congressman, who was a polished orator with a national
reputation, in order that he might purge his oration from its impurities
of speech. As the congressman read the oration and perceived the depth
of thought, the logical arrangement, the beauty and rhythm of language,
and the wide research displayed, he opened his eyes wide with
astonishment. He was amazed that a young man of such uncommon
talents could have grown up in his town and he not know it. Belton's
marvelous talents won his respect and admiration, and he gave him
access to his library and criticized his oration whenever needed.
Secretly and silently preparations went on for the grand conflict. At last
the day came. The colored men and women of the place laid aside all
work to attend the exercises. The forward section of seats was reserved
for the white people. The congressman, the mayor, the school trustees
and various other men of standing came, accompanied by their wives
and daughters.
Scholars of various grades had parts to perform on the programme, but
the eyes of all sought the bottom of the page where were printed the
names of the two oratorical gladiators:
"BELTON PIEDMONT. BERNARD BELGRAVE."
The teacher had given Bernard the last place, deeming that the more
advantageous. He appointed the congressman, the mayor, and one of
the school trustees to act as judges, to decide to whom he should award
a beautiful gold medal for the more excellent oration. The congressman

politely declined and named another trustee in his stead. Then the
contest began. As Belton walked up on the platform the children
greeted him with applause. He announced as his subject: "The
Contribution of the Anglo-Saxon to the Cause of Human Liberty." In
his strong, earnest voice, he began to roll off his well turned periods.
The whole audience seemed as if in a trance. His words made their
hearts burn, and time and again he made them burst forth in applause.
The white people who sat and listened to his speech looked upon it as a
very revelation to them, they themselves not having had as clear a
conception of the glory of their race as this Negro now revealed. When
he had finished, white men and women crowded to the front to
congratulate him upon his effort, and it was many minutes before quiet
was restored sufficiently to allow the programme to proceed.
Bernard took his position on the platform, announcing as his subject:
"Robert Emmett." His voice was sweet and well modulated and never
failed to charm. Admiration was plainly depicted on every face as he
proceeded. He brought to bear all the graces of a polished orator, and
more than once tears came into the eyes of his listeners. Particularly
affecting was his description of Emmett's death. At the conclusion it
was evident that his audience felt that it would have been difficult to
have handled that subject better.
The judges now retired to deliberate as to whom to give the prize.
While they are out, let us examine Belton's plans for carrying out the
second thing, upon the accomplishment of which he was determined;
viz., revenge.
In the rear of the schoolhouse, there stood an old wood-shed. For some
slight offence the teacher had, two or three years back, made Belton the
fire-maker for the balance of his school life instead of passing the task
around according to custom. Thus the care of the wood-house had
fallen permanently to Belton's lot.
During the last year Belton had dug a large hole running from the floor
of the wood-shed to a point under the platform of the school room. The
dirt from this underground channel he cast into a deep old unused well,

not far distant. Once under the platform, he kept on digging, making
the hole larger by far. Numerous rocks abounded in the neighborhood,
and these he used to wall up his underground room, so that it would
hold water. Just in the middle of the school-room platform he cut, from
beneath, a square hole, taking in the spot where the teacher invariably
stood when addressing the school. He cut the boards until