XXVI.
SAMUEL C. ARMSTRONG.
Boys and girls, I wonder how many of you have heard of Samuel C. Armstrong—General Armstrong, the founder of Hampton Institute in Virginia? General Armstrong was one of the best men who ever lived, and he was the friend of all mankind. His special services were rendered in behalf of Indians and Negroes—the weaker races. You ought to go to Hampton Institute sometimes and see that place, and go over to the little cemetery in one corner of the grounds and stand uncovered by the side of General Armstrong’s grave. He died in 1892.
You ought to get the story of his life and read it. It will bear to you a thrilling message; for to read that book is to enter the presence of a man of magnificent courage and indomitable faith.
A general at twenty-six, with a brilliant war record behind him, the quality of his courage had been already proved; but the future was to test it far more severely. The responsibility for the experiment at Hampton was a terrible one, presenting problems which no nation had been called upon to solve before. He had to face isolation, ignorance, indifference, misrepresentation. At the best, after he had conquered prejudice and won friends for the work, he had to spend half his time begging for money, for he had to raise by personal efforts from fifty thousand to eighty thousand dollars annually for the current expenses. Yet in all that time and under all his burdens no one ever saw him discouraged. He used to explain his position by a story which he called his “rule of conduct.”
“Once there was an old colored man who could not be dissuaded from working at an empty ’possum hole. ‘Ain’t no ’possum in dat hole? Dey’s jest got to be, ’cause dey’s nuffin’ in de house fer supper’.” Or, as he used to tell his children, “Once there was a woodchuck. Now woodchucks can’t climb trees. Well, this woodchuck was chased by a dog, and came to a tree. He knew that if he could get up this tree the dog could not catch him. Now woodchucks can’t climb trees, but this one had to, so he did.”
He had to, so he did, was the motto of General Armstrong’s life. “Doing what can’t be done is the glory of living,” he once said. “For most people,” said one of General Armstrong’s friends, “an obstacle is something in the way to stop one from going on, but for General Armstrong it merely meant something to climb over; and if he could not climb all the way over, he would get up as high as possible, and then crow!”
When you come to read the story of General Armstrong’s life you will find that there is no finer picture in it than that of an evening when he spoke at a little suburban church far down a side street. It was a bitter winter night, with a driving storm of sleet, and when it was time for the meeting to begin the audience consisted of a score or so of humble people who evidently enough had no means to contribute, and a dozen restless boys kicking their heels in the front pew. Then “in the midst of the bleakness and emptiness rose the worn, gaunt soldier, as bravely and gladly as if a multitude were hanging upon his words. His deep-sunk eyes looked out beyond the bleakness of the scene into the world of his ideals, and the cold little place was aglow with the fire that was in him.”
Dangers, hardships, obstacles—upon these he had tried “his soul’s stuff” all his life, but here was another and a more difficult test. Triumphant in faith and unflinching in duty, he could meet even defeat in the spirit of victory.