The Negro
undoubtedly has faults. At the same time, in order that his gifts may
receive just consideration, the tradition of burlesque must for the time
being be forgotten. All stories about razors, chickens, and watermelons
must be relegated to the rear; and even the revered and beloved "black
mammy" must receive an affectionate but a long farewell.

The fact is that the Negro has such a contagious brand of humor that
many people never realize that this plays only on the surface. The real
background of the race is one of tragedy. It is not in current jest but
in the wail of the old melodies that the soul of this people is found.
There is something elemental about the heart of the race, something that
finds its origin in the forest and in the falling of the stars. There is
something grim about it too, something that speaks of the lash, of the
child torn from its mother's bosom, of the dead body swinging at night
by the roadside. The race has suffered, and in its suffering lies its
destiny and its contribution to America; and hereby hangs a tale.

If we study the real quality of the Negro we shall find that two things
are observable. One is that any distinction so far won by a member of
the race in America has been almost always in some one of the arts; and
the other is that any influence so far exerted by the Negro on American
civilization has been primarily in the field of aesthetics. The reason
is not far to seek, and is to be found in the artistic striving even of
untutored Negroes. The instinct for beauty insists upon an outlet, and
if one can find no better picture he will paste a circus poster or a
flaring advertisement on the wall. Very few homes have not at least a
geranium on the windowsill or a rosebush in the garden. If we look at
the matter conversely we shall find that those things which are most
picturesque make to the Negro the readiest appeal. Red is his favorite
color simply because it is the most pronounced of all colors. The
principle holds in the sphere of religion. In some of our communities
Negroes are known to "get happy" in church. It is, however, seldom a
sermon on the rule of faith or the plan of salvation that awakens such
ecstasy, but rather a vivid portrayal of the beauties of heaven, with
the walls of jasper, the feast of milk and honey, and the angels with
palms in their hands. The appeal is primarily sensuous, and it is hardly
too much to say that the Negro is thrilled not so much by the