De high and de lo’;
De rich and de po’,
De bond and de free,
As well as me.
“‘Yer got ter rise ter meet King Jesus in de mornin’,
Weddur yer iz purparred er no,
Ter Gord’s trirbewnul
Yer got ter go,
Yer got ter rise ter meet King Jesus in de mornin’.
“‘De lurnid and de unlurnid,
Barbareun, Jentile and de Jew,
Hev yer red hit in Hiz wurd,
Dat de peepul wuz drondid in de flud,
Ev’budy got ter rise ter meet King Jesus in de mornin’.’
“Dar wuz a song dat Jasper made hisself. Some called it a ballard, and
udders said it wuz a poem; but wat evur twuz, it wuz glory ter hear him
sing it. It went dis way:--
“‘I beheld and lo
A grate multertude dat no man kin number,
Thousuns and thousuns, an’ ten thousun times ten thousun,
Standin’ befo’ de Lam’,
And dey had pams in dere hans.
“‘Dey nevur restid day nur night,
Cryin’ Holy, Holy, Holy, iz de Lord, Gord uv Sabbuth
Dat wuz, an’ iz, and iz ter kum,
I saw a mi’ty ainjel flyin’ through de midst uv heaven,
Cryin’ wid a loud voice,
Sayin’ Woe! Woe! Woe! be unto de earth by reazun uv de trumpit,
Dat which is yet ter soun’.
And when de las’ trumpit shall soun’,
See de great men and noble,
De rich, and de po’, de bond and de free,
Gueddur ’emselves terguedder, cryin’ ter de rocks, an’ ter de mountins,
Ter fall ’pon ’em an’ hide ’em,
From de face uv Him dat sitteth on de throne,
De great day uv His rath hav kum an’ who shall be able ter stan’?’
“And den, too, he had his shoutin’ song. He never sung it ’cept wen
de heavenly fires wuz burnin’ all over his soul. He kept tune wid his
walkin’ and wid de clappin’ uv his hands. Dis song never got in ’cept
at de close uv sermons dat had heaven in ’em, and somehow he jumped
from de sermon all at once in ter de song an’ it would hev fairly kilt
yer wid joy ter hear it. Here is de way he put it:--
“‘My soul will mount higher in a chariot of fire,
And de wurl’ is put under my feet.’
“Dis wuz the start uv it, but dere wuz heaps more.
“It wuz an awful time ter us wen we begun ter see dat our ole pastor
wuz near ter de end uv his race. We had been a-dreddin’ it by degrees
and it broke on us more and more. I think de dere man tried ter git us
reddy fer it. He kep sayin’ to us: ‘My chilrun, my work on de earth
is dun. I doan ask death no more odds dan a horse-fly.’ But den he’d
preach so powerful dat we’d hope dat he’d hol’ out a good deal longer.
He said ter me one day: ‘Compartivly speakin’, my time in dis wurl’ is
skin deep,’ and I look at my hand and think how thin de skin is, and I
feel dat sho’ nuff he mus’ soon be goin’.
“One night at de church he turned hissef loos. He said dat as fer
’imself it mattered nuthin’. He had paid all his debts, dat he did not
keer whar or when he dropped; but he wanted everybody ter know dat he
wud be wid Jesus. Dat wuz one uv de things dat he luved ter say. Den he
told de church dat dar wuz nuthin’ lef’ uv him,--dat he wanted ’em to
git tergedder and pay off der church debt and live tergedder lik little
chil’run. He wuz mity gret dat night, an’ it looked lik de powers uv de
wurl’ ter kum wuz dar.
“De people went out silent lik an’ dey said dat de gud ole pastor
preached his own funeral dat night. He allus thought uv hissef es de
servant uv King Jesus. Dat wuz a slavery dat he liked and nevur wished
to git free from it. Towards de las’ he wuz all de time sayin’: ‘I am
now at de river’s brink and waitin’ fer furder orders. It’s de same ter
me ter go or stay, jes’ es Gord commands.’
“Some folks said dat he wuz conceited. Dey did not know him. He wuz too
full uv de fear uv Gord to think he wuz sum great body, an’ he know’d
his own sins an’ troubles too well ter boast. He must hev known dat
Gord made him more uv a man dan de gen’ral run. He had ter kno’ dat,
’caus’ it wuz proved ter him every day, an’ in a heap uv ways. Besides
dat, he hilt hisself up high. He had good respec’ for hisself and felt
dat a man lik he wuz had got ter behave hisself ’cordin’ ter wat he
wuz. But dat wuz very different from bein’ one uv dese giddy little
fops dat is always trancin’ aroun’ showin’ hisself off, and braggin’
’bout everything. I often wondered how Jasper could be so umble lik,
wen so many cacklin’ fools wuz bodderin’ ’im.
“Brer Jasper could git up big things wen he tried. Wen dey got in a
tight place ’bout de church an’ had to have money, he got up a skurshun
ter Washington. He sent out de members ter sell tickets, an’ dey sold
so many dat dey had ter have two trains ter carry ’em, and jes’ think,
sir, he cleared $1,500 fer his church by dat skurshun, and he got up
anudder to Staunton dat wuz mos’ as good as de udder one. Ah, he wuz a
leader, I tell you he wuz. We never could have had our fine church if
it had not bin fer him.
“It’s mity easy fer folks ter forget things. Some folks are teerin’
’roun’ as if the church b’longed ter ’em now, and dey are ready ter
tell you dat Jasper made mistakes and all dat, but sum uv us knows well
dat Jasper built dat church. You need nevur spect ter hear any more
sech preachin’ in dat pulpit as dat grand ole man uv God used ter give
us.
“You know Brer Jasper got convicted uv his sins fer de first time on
de 4th of July in Capitol Squar’, Richmond. He use ter tell us ’bout
it many a time. While de folks wuz swarmin’ ’roun’ and laffin’ and
hurrahin’, an arrer uv convicshun went in ter his proud heart an’
brought ’im low. He never forgot dat place, and when he got ter be an
ole man he wuz kinder drawn ter Capitol Squar. He luv ter go down dar.
He like de cool shade uv de trees and ’joyed de res’, dozin’ sometimes
wen he wuz tired. De people, and speshully de chilrun, used ter git
’roun’ him an’ ask him questions an’ make him talk. He lik things lik
dat. Some uv de Jews used ter kum ter hear Brer Jasper preach. They
called him Father Abraham and showed gret gud feelin’ fur ’im. Some uv
’em used ter meet him in de Cap’tol Squar’ an’ dey would have great ole
talks tergudder, an’ he didn’t mind tellin’ ’em de truth an’ he told
’em dat dey wuz de chilrun uv Abraham, but dat dey had gone all to
pieces.
“Dey tell me he never went ter skule ’cep’ six months, an’ I hear dat
he jes’ studied wid a man dat taught him in a New York Speller book;
but when he spoke at de Y. M. C. A. and many uv de white gemmen went
ter hear ’im, they say he certainly used ellergunt language. I know he
could handle great words when he wanted to, an’ he could talk in de old
way, an’ he often loved to do dat.”
IX
JASPER’S SERMON ON “DEM SEBUN WIMMIN”
“Did yer ebur git yer mine on wat Iz’er say in chapter fo’ an’ vurs
wun? Listen ter hiz wurds: ‘An’ sebun wimmin shall tek hol’ uv wun man
in dat day, sayin’ we will eat our own bread an’ wear our own ’parrel;
only let us be called by Thy name; tek Thou erway our reproach.’ De
Profit iz furloserfizin’ ’bout de mattur uv wimmin,--speshully wen dar
is sebun in de lan’, wen wars dun thin out de men and de wimmins feels
de stings an’ bites uv reproach. I tell yer, yer bettur not fling yer
gibes an’ sneers at er ’omun. She wuzn’t made ter stan’ it, an’ wats
mo’, she ain’t gwine ter stan’ it. Shure ez yer iz settin’ on dat bench
she will fly erway an’ hide hersef, or she will fly at yer, an’ den,
ole fellur, yer had bettur be pullin’ out fer de tall timbur fast. Gord
dun settled it dat wun ’omun iz nuff fer a man, an’ two iz er war on
yer hans,--bles yer, it is.
“But dar kums times wen it goze hard wid wimmin. Dey iz lef out uv de
lottry uv heavun,--dey draws blanks an’ dey gits ter be a laughin’
stock uv de ungodly. Not dat dey iz crazy ter marry an’ not dat dey iz
uv dat flautin’, slatturn lot dat’s allus gallantin’ eroun’ ertryin’
ter git a man ter ’sport um. Dese wuz squar, alrite wimmin. Wurk wud
not skeer um. Dey wuz willin’ ter mek dere bread an’ cloes, ter pay
dere own way, purvidid dey cud be Mrs. Sumbody, an’ in dat way ’skape
de dev’lish jeers an’ slites uv base men. Fur my part, I feels quite
sorry fur dat class uv ladiz, an’ I kinder feels my blud gittin’ up wen
I finds folks castin’ reproachiz on dere fair names.
“But my mastur in de skies! Dis pikshur here uv de Profit iz too much
fer me. It mek me feel lik tekin’ ter de woods, in quick ordur. Lord,
wat wud I do ef I wuz pursued by er army uv seben wimmin axin me ter
’low each wun uv um ter be call’d Mrs. Jasper? It may be dat each wun
wuz fer hersef ter de limit, an’ hoped ter shet out de udder six an’
hev de man ter hersef;--an’ ef she wuz ter hev ’im ertall she ort ter
hav all uv im. Dar iz not nuff ter d’vide; I tel yer, dar ain’t, an’
wen yer git er haf intrest in er man yer iz po’ indeed, an’ ef only wun
sevunth iz yourn, yer had es wel start on ter de po’house ’fo yer git
yer dinner.
“A gud ’omun can’t byar ter be oberluked. It ain’t her nature, an’ it
iz a site fer de anguls ter see wat sort uv men sum wimmin wil tek
sooner dan be lef’ out inti’ly.
“But wat gits me arter all iz a man. I see ’im in de quiet uv de
day,--de Sabbuth day. He teks a strole fer de koolin’ uv hiz mine,
erwearin’ uv hiz nice cloes, an’ feelin’ lik a new man in de City
Kounsil; de fust thing he know’d a lady glide up ter ’im an’ put her
han’ lite on hiz arm. He jump ’roun’ an’ she say, mity flush’d up,
‘’skuse me!’
“He see at wunst she er lady, but he wuz kinder lo’ in hiz sperrit, an’
yit he wish in hiz hart dat she had gon ter de udder en uv de rode, but
he want ter hear her out.
“She tel ’im de site uv a man wuz medsin fer bad eyes, dat nurly all uv
’em wuz cut down in de war an’ dat in konsquens it wuz er lonesum time
fer wimmin; dey hev nobody now ringin’ de do’ bells in de eebnin; no
boys sendin’ ’em flowers an’ ’fekshuns; no sweetarts tekin’ ’em walkin’
on Sunday arternoons, an’ weddins gwine out er fashun. An’ dis ain’t de
wust uv it. It mek us shamed. De wives,--dey purrades roun’ an’ brags
’bout dere ’ole mans’ an’ cuts der eye at us skornful; an’ de husban’s
iz mity nigh es bad, erpokin’ fun at us an’ axin erbout de chillun.
“She say yer needn’ think we’re crazy ter marry; tain’t dat, an’ tain’t
dat we want yer ter ’sport us,--no, no! We hev money an’ kin funnish
our own vittuls an’ cloes, an’ we kin wuk; but it iz dat reproach dey
kas’ on us, de wear an’ tear uv bein’ laff’d at dat cuts us so deep.
Ef I cud be Mrs. Sumbody,--had sum proof dat I had de name uv sum
un,--sumthin’ ter rub off de reproach. Dat’s it,--dis ding-dongin’ uv
de fokes at me.
“De man wuz pale es linnin, an’ wuz hopin’ ter ansur, but fo’ de wud
floo frum his lips ernudder ’omun hooked ’im on de ter side. Mursy uv
de Lord! two uv ’em had ’im an’ it luk lik dey wuz gwine ter rip ’im
in tew an’ each tek a haf. De las’ wun tel her tale jes’ lik de fust
wun an’ wuss. She brung in tears es part uv her argurmint, an’ de ter
wun got fretted an’ used wuds dat wud hev konkurred ’im ef jes’ den two
mo’,--two mo’, mine yer, mekin’ fo’ in all, hed not kum up an’ gits er
grip on de gemmun, an’ hiz eyes luk lik dey’d pop out his hed;--wun on
each side an’ two ter hiz face, an’ it seems he gwine ter faint.
“‘Yer ladiz,’ he says, ‘may be rite in yer ’thuzasm, but yer iz too
menny. Up ter dis time I hev bin shy uv wun, but ef I cud be erlowed
ter choose jes’ wun I mite try it.’
“Den de fo’ wimmins begun ter git shaky wen a nur wun sailed in,--dat’s
five, den ernudder; dat’s six, and den wun mo’--SEBUN!
“Luk, will yer! Sevun got wun man. It izn’t sed wedder de wimmin wuz
fer a partnurship wid de man es de kapertul, or wedder each uv ’em
hoped ter beat out de udder six; but wun thing we know an’ dat iz dat
de po’ man iz in de low grounds uv sorrur. Ter my min’, de pikshur iz
mity seerus, ebun do it mek us smile. Fur my po’ part, I iz glad we
lives in fairer times. In our day mens iz awful plen’ful wid us, tho’
I kin not say dat de qualty iz fust class in ve’y menny. But I thanks
de Lord dat mos’ enny nice leddy kin git merrid in dese times ef dey
choose, an’ dat wid out gwine out sparkin’ fur de man. I notis dat ef
she stay ter home, ten her buznis, min’ her mudder, an’ not sweep de
streets too off’n wid her skirts, in de long run her modes’ sperrit
will win de day. I ubsurv ernudder thing; de unmerrid lady, de ole
maid es sum calls her,--need not hang her haid. Jes’ let her be quiet
an’ surv de Lord; jes’ not fret ’bout wat fools says,--dey duz er heep
uv talkin’, but it iz lik de cracklin’ uv de burnin’ sticks under de
pot, a big fuss an’ a littul heat. Fer my part, I honners de ’oman dat
b’haves hersef, briduls her tongue, duz her wuk, an’ sings es she goes
erlong. Her contentid sperrit beats a lazy husbun’ ebry time, an’ mity
off’n it brings er gud husbun’ erlong.
“Es fer dese fokes dat flurts an’ skouts at ole maids dey ain’ fitten
ter live, an’ ort ter be in de bottum uv Jeems Rivur, ’cept’n’ dey’d
spile de watur. No gemmun nur no lady wud do it.
“Now dis iz my wud ’bout de wimmin, an’ I hope yer lik it, but if yer
doant, jes’ ’member dat Jasper sed it, an’ will stan’ by it, til de
cows in de lo’er feil’ kums home.”
X
JASPER GLIMPSED UNDER VARIOUS LIGHTS
Jasper’s mother was near the century line when she died, and he
attained unto the extraordinary age of eighty-nine. Truly there must
have been rare endurance in the texture of the stock. Jasper’s thoughts
did not turn to religion until he was twenty-seven and yet by reason
of his longevity he was a preacher for sixty years. During twenty-five
years of that time he was a slave, and he had about thirty-five years
of personal civil freedom, during which he won the distinctions that
will make him a figure slow to pass out of history.
Jasper can have no successor. Freedom did not change him. It came too
late for him to be seriously affected by its transforming hand. It
never dazzled him by its festive charms nor crooked him with prejudice
against the white people. There was far more for him in the traditions,
sentiments, and habits of his bondage-days than in the new things
which emancipation offered. He never took up with gaudy displays which
marked his race in the morning of their freedom. This was especially
true as to his ministry. He clung without apology to the old ways. In
preaching, he spurned the new pulpit manners, the new style of dress,
and all new-fangled tricks, which so fascinated his race. He intoned
his sermons,--at least, in their more tender passages--sang the old
revival songs of the plantations and factories, and felt it a part of
his religion to smash, with giant hand, the innovations which the new
order was bringing in. Of all the men whom I have known this weird,
indescribable man cared the least for opposition;--unless he believed
it touched his personal honour or was likely to injure the cause of
religion. Indeed, he liked it. He was a born fighter and a stranger to
fear. There was a charm in his resentments: they were of a high order,
and inevitably commanded manly sympathy. He instinctively identified
himself with the Lord and felt that when he fought he was fighting
the Lord’s battles. Satire and sarcasm were like Toledo blades in his
hands. He often softened his attacks upon his enemies by such ludicrous
hits and provoking jests that you felt that, after all, his hostility
lacked the roots of hatred. He was far more prone to despise than to
hate his enemies.
There is a curious fact in connection with Jasper’s language. Evidently
in his early days his speech was atrociously ungrammatical. His
dialect, while possessing an element of fascination, was almost
unspellable. During his long ministerial life his reading and contact
with educated people rooted out many of his linguistic excrescences.
There were times when he spoke with approximate accuracy, and even with
elegance; and yet he delighted, if indeed he was conscious of it, in
returning to his dialect and in pouring it forth unblushingly in its
worst shape, and yet always with telling effect. But the wonder of his
speaking was his practical independence of language. When he became
thoroughly impassioned and his face lit with the orator’s glory, he
seemed to mount above the bondage of words: his feet, his eyes, indeed
every feature of his outer being became to him a new language. If he
used words, you did not notice it You were simply entranced and borne
along on the mountain-tide of his passion. You saw nothing but him. You
heard _him_; you felt him, and the glow of his soul was language enough
to bring to you his message. It ought to be added that no man ever used
the pause more eloquently or effectively than Jasper, and his smile was
logic; it was rhetoric; it was blissful conviction.
Those who thought that Jasper was a mere raver did not know. Logic was
his tower of strength. He never heard of a syllogism, but he had a way
of marshalling his facts and texts which set forth his view as clear
as the beaming sun. The Bible was to him the source of all authority,
while his belief in the justice and truth of God was something
unworldly. He understood well enough his frailties, his fallibility,
and the tendency of the human soul towards unfairness and deceit. I
heard him say once with irresistible effect: “Brutherin, Gord never
lies; He can’t lie. Men lie. I lie sometimes, I am very sorry to say
it. I oughtn’t to lie, and it hurts me when I do. I am tryin’ ter git
ober it, and I think I will by Gord’s grace, but de Lord nevur lies.”
His tone in saying this was so humble and candid that I am sure the
people loved him and believed in him more for what he said. A hypocrite
could never have said it. Jasper could never be put into words. As he
could speak without words so it is true that words could never contain
him,--never tell his matchless story, never make those who did not hear
him and see him fully understand the man that he was.
A notable and pathetic episode in Jasper’s history was the fact
that during the bitter days of the Confederacy when Richmond was
crowded with hospitals,--hospitals themselves crowded with the
suffering,--Jasper used to go in and preach to them. It was no idle
entertainment provided by a grotesque player. He always had a message
for the sorrowful. There is no extended record of his labours in the
hospitals, but the simple fact is that he, a negro labourer with
rude speech, was welcomed by these sufferers and heard with undying
interest; no wonder they liked him. His songs were so mellow, so
tender, so reminiscent of the southern plantation and of the homes
from which these men came. His sermons had the ring of the old
gospel preaching so common in the South. He had caught his manner of
preaching from the white preachers and they too had been his only
theological teachers. We can easily understand how his genius, seasoned
with religious reverence, made him a winsome figure to the men who
languished through the weary days on the cots. It cannot be said too
often that Jasper was the white man’s preacher. Wherever he went, the
Anglo-Saxon waived all racial prejudices and drank the truth in as it
poured in crystal streams from his lips.
Quite a pretty story is told of Jasper at the beginnings of his
ministry. It seems that he went down into the eastern part of his town
one Sunday to preach and some boisterous ruffians interfered, declaring
that a negro had no right to go into the pulpit and that they would not
allow Jasper to preach. A sailor who chanced to be present and knew
Jasper faced these disorderly men and declared to them that Jasper
was the smartest man in Virginia and that if he could take him to the
country from whence he had come he would be treated with honour and
distinction. There was also a small white boy standing by, and touched
by the sincerity and power of Jasper, he pluckily jumped into the scene
and exclaimed, “Yes, let him go on; what he says is all right. I have
read it all in the Bible, and why shouldn’t he speak?” The incipient
mob was dispersed, and his audience was fringed with a multitude of
white people who were attracted to the scene.
It is not intended by these things said, concerning Jasper’s favour
with the white people, to indicate that Jasper, in the least degree,
was not with his own race. Far from that. He loved his own people and
was thoroughly identified with them; but he was larger than his race.
He loved all men. He had grown up with that pleasing pride that the
coloured people who lived in prominent families had about white people.
Then, too, he had always been a man who had won favour wherever he
went, and the white race had always had a respect and affection for
him. Jasper was never ungrateful.
There were sometimes hard passages in the road which Jasper travelled.
At the end of the war he was left high and dry, like driftwood on
the shore. He had no church; no place to preach; no occupation. His
relations with the white race were shattered, and things were grim
enough; but ill-fortune could not break him. A large part of Richmond
was in ashes, and in some places at least the work of rebuilding
commenced at once,--or rather a clearing off of the debris with a view
to rebuilding. Jasper walked out and engaged himself to clean bricks.
During the Egyptian bondage the Hebrews made bricks and thought they
had a hard lot; but Jasper spent the first days of his freedom in
the brick business,--a transient expedient for keeping soul and body
together until he could get on his feet again. Little thought the eager
men who were trying to lay the foundations for their future fortunes
that in the tall serious negro who sat whacking hour after hour at the
bricks was one of God’s intellectual noblemen. Born in bondage, lowly
in his liberty and yet great in the gifts with which God had endowed
him, it was Jasper’s nature to be almost as cheerful when squatted on
a pile of bricks and tugging at their cleaning as if he had a seat in
a palace and was feeding on royal dainties. He carried the contented
spirit, and that too while he aspired after the highest. He did not
uselessly kick against the inevitable, but he always strove for the
best that was in his reach.
One of the most serious jars of Jasper’s life was his conflict with
some of his brethren in connection with his notable and regrettable
sermon on the motion of the sun. Intelligent people do not need to
be told that Jasper knew nothing of natural science, and that his
venture into the field of astronomy was a blunder. It was a matter
that did not in the least involve his piety or his salvation, nor
even his ministerial efficiency. His whole bearing in the matter was
so evidently sincere, and his respect for the Bible, as he understood
it, was so unmeasured that it set him off rather to an advantage than
to a disadvantage. It is told in another place how he was drawn into
the preaching of that sermon which gave him an odd, and yet a genuine,
celebrity. It was no love for sensation and no attempt to show his
learning, but simply an attempt to vindicate the Bible as he understood
it. When the sermon was first delivered it created a wide-spread
sensation. Some of the coloured ministers of Richmond were shocked out
of their equanimity, and they felt that something must be done. It was
a case of hysterics. In a fit of freakish courage some of them made an
attack on Jasper. A letter was written to a Richmond paper and signed
by several prominent negro Baptists, one of them being the pastor of a
strong church. In this letter Jasper’s sermons were bitterly denounced,
and they were spoken of as “a base fabrication,” out of time and place,
and doing more harm than good. It was said further that those sermons
had drawn such crowds that it had resulted in the injury of a number of
persons, and that a better way for the author of these sermons would
be for him to preach Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
Some time after this the Ebenezer Baptist Church called a conference
to consider the situation and to see if matters could not be adjusted.
Jasper was an ardent believer in the independence of the individual
Baptist church, and he was summoned to appear before that conference.
He refused to go, saying that he did not recognize the authority of
the church to interfere with him. Thereupon they sent a committee to
him inviting him to come and make any statement that he wished to make
concerning the question at issue.