wings of atlanta essay

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Souls of Black Folk, by W. E. B. Du Bois This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at Title: The Souls of Black Folk Author: W. E. B. Du Bois Release Date: January 29, 2008 [EBook 408] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOULS OF BLACK FOLK *** by Herein Is Written To Burghardt and Yolande The Lost and the Found The Forethought Herein lie buried many things which if read with patience may show the strange meaning of being black here at the dawning of the Twentieth Century. This meaning is not without interest to you, Gentle Reader; for the problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color line. I pray you, then, receive my little book in all charity, studying my words with me, forgiving mistake and foible for sake of the faith and passion that is in me, and seeking the grain of truth hidden there. I have sought here to sketch, in vague, uncertain outline, the spiritual world in which ten thousand thousand Americans live and strive. First, in two chapters I have tried to show what Emancipation meant to them, and what was its aftermath. In a third chapter I have pointed out the slow rise of personal leadership, and criticized candidly the leader who bears the chief burden of his race to-day. Then, in two other chapters I have sketched in swift outline the two worlds within and without the Veil, and thus have come to the central problem of training men for life. Venturing now into deeper detail, I have in two chapters studied the struggles of the massed millions of the black peasantry, and in another have sought to make clear the present relations of the sons of.
The embedded audio player requires a modern internet browser. You should visit Browse Happy and update your internet browser today! O black boy of Atlanta! But half was spoken; The slave's chains and the master's Alike are broken; The one curse of the races Held both in tether; They are rising—all are rising— The black and white together. WHITTIER. South of the North, yet north of the South, lies the City of a Hundred Hills, peering out from the shadows of the past into the promise of the future. I have seen her in the morning, when the first flush of day had half–roused her; she lay gray and still on the crimson soil of Georgia; then the blue smoke began to curl from her chimneys, the tinkle of bell and scream of whistle broke the silence, the rattle and roar of busy life slowly gathered and swelled, until the seething whirl of the city seemed a strange thing in a sleepy land. Once, they say, even Atlanta slept dull and drowsy at the foot–hills of the Alleghanies, until the iron baptism of war awakened her with its sullen waters, aroused and maddened her, and left her listening to the sea. And the sea cried to the hills and the hills answered the sea, till the city rose like a widow and cast away her weeds, and toiled for her daily bread; toiled steadily, toiled cunningly,—perhaps with some bitterness, with a touch, of reclame,—and yet with real earnestness, and real sweat. It is a hard thing to live haunted by the ghost of an untrue dream; to see the wide vision of empire fade into real ashes and dirt; to feel the pang of the conquered, and yet know that with all the Bad that fell on one black day, something was vanquished that deserved to live, something killed that in justice had not dared to die; to know that with the Right that triumphed, triumphed something of Wrong, something sordid and mean, something less than the broadest and best. All this is bitter hard;.
“It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness, - an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled [sic] strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.” This excerpt may seem vaguely familiar. It is the paragraph in W.E. B. Dubois’ book The Souls of Black Folk that evokes the overly used and often misinterpreted concept of double-consciousness. Double-consciousness is mentioned once on the second page of The Souls of Black Folk and is never brought up again (except in chapter 10 on page 122 where Dr. Dubois talks about a “double life”). If this is accepted as true why is it that whenever The Souls of Black Folk is adverted to only double-consciousness is mentioned? Have we only gotten to the second page? Is this the only valid statement that Dr. Dubois makes in this book? I think not. The idea of double-consciousness that Dr. Dubois mentions (briefly) in The Souls of Black Folk is a very powerful idea and could arguably summarize the experience of the African in America. However it is not the only idea that Dr. Dubois wanted to convey to his readers. In the subsequent chapters following the chapter (of Our Spiritual Strivings) that double-consciousness is mentioned, there are several ideas and concepts that appeared more important in the eyes of Dr. Dubois. Of the Wings of Atalanta was a brilliant essay on greed and its haplessness. Dr. Dubois starts the essay by telling the myth of Atalanta: “ [H]ow swarthy Atalanta, tall and wild, would marry only him who out-race her; and how the wily Hippomenes laid three apples of gold in the way. She fled like a shadow, paused startled over the first apple.
SUMMARY Like in many of his other essays, Du Bois opens up his personal analysis with a poem by a prominent author. This time, he chooses to begin with John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem “Howard at Atlanta.” In the poem, the author describes how the city is now free from slavery, and how both African-Americans and whites are beginning to co-exist and rise together. Du Bois is able to provide a foundation for the discussion of Atlanta by engaging the reader in this way. In the essay, Du Bois begins by explaining how Atlanta came to be. Seemingly out of nowhere, a city was erected in the middle of the country. It was stated that previously, Atlanta was also a quiet area, similar to all of its surroundings. The people of Atlanta put their faith in the future, holding on to dreams of wealth in the hopes that they would succeed. This was how the city became one laden with factories and shopping areas, and how progress came to be in that area. This was when the country took notice of Atlanta, when people throughout the United States began to provide praise for these successes. He compares the city of Atlanta to the Greek myt hof Atalanta: Atalanta is the story of a goddess who would only marry someone who could outdo her; she did not want love, but wealth. Du Bois contends that if the city of Atlanta is not named after the goddess, it should be. He further stated that Atlanta was doing a disservice to the South, as it was leading that part of the country to believe that wealth and materialism were the cornerstones of success. This widespread idea had begun to replace old-fashioned Southerners with selfish workers, and ridding the South of its beauty. With the rise of Atlanta, Southerners believed that wealth was the solution to all of their problems: slave feudalism, the third estate, and the facilitation of employing black serfs were all attainable with wealth. The South went.
You can find a summary and analysis of chapters 1-6 in the eNotes study guide for this book, to which I've pasted a link below.The Souls of Black Folks is a collection of essays about African American life in the years after the Civil War. Chapter 5 is titled Of the Wings of Atalanta. It is about the city of Atlanta and how it emerged with new life after the war. Before the war, DuBois says, Atlanta slept dull and drowsy. He says that it is hard to live haunted by the ghost of an untrue dream and that many a man and city and people have found in it excuse for sulking, and brooding, and listless waiting. However, Atlanta rose from the ashes of war to become a greater city. The people of Atlanta turned toward the future and built factories and businesses, and now the city is prospering.But Atlanta must not be like its namesake Atalanta and fall for the glitter of gold.Atlanta must not lead the South to dream of material prosperity as the touchstone of all success; already the fatal might of this idea is beginning to spread; it is replacing the finer type of Southerner with vulgar money-getters; it is burying the sweeter beauties of Southern life beneath pretence and ostentation. DuBois says that Atlanta can be an example for the rest of the country by building universities and educating its people at the same time it grows in prosperity. Teach workers to work.Teach thinkers to think.
W.E.B. Du Bois (1868–1963).  The Souls of Black Folk.  1903.Chapter V.Of the Wings of Atalanta         O black boy of Atlanta!           But half was spoken;         The slave’s chains and the master’s           Alike are broken;         The one curse of the races           Held both in tether;         They are rising—all are rising—           The black and white together.                 WHITTIER.  SOUTH of the North, yet north of the South, lies the City of a Hundred Hills, peering out from the shadows of the past into the promise of the future. I have seen her in the morning, when the first flush of day had half-roused her; she lay gray and still on the crimson soil of Georgia; then the blue smoke began to curl from her chimneys, the tinkle of bell and scream of whistle broke the silence, the rattle and roar of busy life slowly gathered and swelled, until the seething whirl of the city seemed a strange thing in a sleepy land.   1  Once, they say, even Atlanta slept dull and drowsy at the foot-hills of the Alleghanies, until the iron baptism of war awakened her with its sullen waters, aroused and maddened her, and left her listening to the sea. And the sea cried to the hills and the hills answered the sea, till the city rose like a widow and cast away her weeds, and toiled for her daily bread; toiled steadily, toiled cunningly,—perhaps with some bitterness, with a touch of réclame,—and yet with real earnestness, and real sweat.   2  It is a hard thing to live haunted by the ghost of an untrue dream; to see the wide vision of empire fade into real ashes and dirt; to feel the pang of the conquered, and yet know that with all the Bad that fell on one black day, something was vanquished that deserved to live, something killed that in justice had not dared to die; to know that with the Right that triumphed, triumphed something of Wrong, something sordid and mean.