ter give him a sign by which he’d know dat what He sed wuz cummin’ ter
pars. I ain’t erquainted wid dem sun diuls dat de Lord toll Hezekier
’bout, but ennybody dat hes got a grain uv sense knows dat dey wuz de
clocks uv dem ole times an’ dey marked de travuls uv de sun by dem
diuls. When, darfo’ Gord tol’ de king dat He wud mek de shadder go
backwud, it mus’ hev bin jes’ lak puttin’ de han’s uv de clock back,
but, mark yer, Izaer ’spressly say dat de sun return’d ten dergrees.
Thar yer are! Ain’t dat de movement uv de sun? Bless my soul.
Hezekier’s case beat Joshwer. Joshwer stop de sun, but heer de Lord mek
de sun walk back ten dergrees; an’ yet dey say dat de sun stan’ stone
still an’ nevur move er peg. It look ter me he move roun’ mighty brisk
an’ is ready ter go ennyway dat de Lord ordurs him ter go. I wonder if
enny uv dem furloserfers is roun’ here dis arternoon. I’d lik ter take
a squar’ look at one uv dem an’ ax him to ’splain dis mattur. He carn’t
do it, my bruthr’n. He knows a heap ’bout books, maps, figgers an’ long
distunces, but I derfy him ter take up Hezekier’s case an’ ’splain it
orf. He carn’t do it. De Word uv de Lord is my defense an’ bulwurk, an’
I fears not what men can say nor do; my Gord gives me de vict’ry.
“’Low me, my frens, ter put mysef squar’bout dis movement uv de sun. It
ain’t no bizniss uv mine wedder de sun move or stan’ still, or wedder
it stop or go back or rise or set. All dat is out er my han’s ’tirely,
an’ I got nuthin’ ter say. I got no the-o-ry on de subjik. All I ax is
dat we will take wat de Lord say ’bout it an’ let His will be dun ’bout
ev’rything. Wat dat will is I karn’t know ’cept He whisper inter my
soul or write it in a book. Here’s de Book. Dis is ’nough fer me, and
wid it ter pilut me, I karn’t git fur erstray.
“But I ain’t dun wid yer yit. As de song says, dere’s mo’ ter foller.
I envite yer ter heer de fust vers in de sev’nth chaptur uv de book
uv Reverlashuns. What do John, und’r de pow’r uv de Spirit, say? He
say he saw fo’ anguls standin’ on de fo’ corners uv de earth, holdin’
de fo’ win’s uv de earth, an’ so fo’th. ’Low me ter ax ef de earth is
roun’, whar do it keep its corners? Er flat, squar thing has corners,
but tell me where is de cornur uv er appul, ur a marbul, ur a cannun
ball, ur a silver dollar. Ef dar is enny one uv dem furloserfurs whar’s
been takin’ so many cracks at my ole haid ’bout here, he is korjully
envited ter step for’d an’ squar up dis vexin’ bizniss. I here tell
you dat yer karn’t squar a circul, but it looks lak dese great scolurs
dun learn how ter circul de squar. Ef dey kin do it, let ’em step ter
de front an’ do de trick. But, mer brutherin, in my po’ judgmint, dey
karn’t do it; tain’t in ’em ter do it. Dey is on der wrong side of de
Bible; dat’s on de outside uv de Bible, an’ dar’s whar de trubbul comes
in wid ’em. Dey dun got out uv de bres’wuks uv de truf, an’ ez long ez
dey stay dar de light uv de Lord will not shine on der path. I ain’t
keer’n so much ’bout de sun, tho’ it’s mighty kunveenyunt ter hav it,
but my trus’ is in de Word uv de Lord. Long ez my feet is flat on de
solid rock, no man kin move me. I’se gittin’ my orders f’um de Gord of
my salvashun.
“Tother day er man wid er hi coler and side whisk’rs cum ter my house.
He was one nice North’rn gemman wat think a heap of us col’rd people
in de Souf. Da ar luvly folks and I honours ’em very much. He seem
from de start kinder strictly an’ cross wid me, and arter while, he
brake out furi’us and frettid, an’ he say: ‘Erlow me Mister Jasper ter
gib you sum plain advise. Dis nonsans ’bout de sun movin’ whar you ar
gettin’ is disgracin’ yer race all ober de kuntry, an’ as a fren of
yer peopul, I cum ter say it’s got ter stop.’ Ha! Ha! Ha! Mars’ Sam
Hargrove nuvur hardly smash me dat way. It was equl to one ov dem ole
overseurs way bac yondur. I tel him dat ef he’ll sho me I’se wrong, I
giv it all up.
“My! My! Ha! Ha! He sail in on me an’ such er storm about science, nu
’scuv’ries, an’ de Lord only knos wat all, I ner hur befo’, an’ den he
tel me my race is ergin me an’ po ole Jasper mus shet up ’is fule mouf.
“Wen he got thru--it look lak he nuvur wud, I tel him John Jasper ain’
set up to be no scholur, an’ doant kno de ferlosophiz, an’ ain’ tryin’
ter hurt his peopul, but is wurkin’ day an’ night ter lif ’em up, but
his foot is on de rock uv eternal truff. Dar he stan’ and dar he is
goin’ ter stan’ til Gabrul soun’s de judgment note. So er say to de
gemman wat scol’d me up so dat I hur him mek his remarks, but I ain’
hur whar he get his Scriptu’ from, an’ dat ’tween him an’ de wurd of de
Lord I tek my stan’ by de Word of Gord ebery time. Jasper ain’ mad:
he ain’ fightin’ nobody; he ain’ bin ’pinted janitur to run de sun: he
nothin’ but de servunt of Gord and a luver of de Everlasting Word. What
I keer about de sun? De day comes on wen de sun will be called frum his
race-trac, and his light squincked out foruvur; de moon shall turn ter
blood, and this yearth be konsoomed wid fier. Let um go; dat wont skeer
me nor trubble Gord’s erlect’d peopul, for de word uv de Lord shell
aindu furivur, an’ on dat Solid Rock we stan’ an’ shall not be muved.
“Is I got yer satisfied yit? Has I prooven my p’int? Oh, ye whose
hearts is full uv unberlief! Is yer still hol’in’ out? I reckun de
reason yer say de sun don’ move is ’cause yer are so hard ter move
yerse’f. You is a reel triul ter me, but, nevur min’; I ain’t gi’n yer
up yit, an’ nevur will. Truf is mighty; it kin break de heart uv stone,
an’ I mus’ fire anudder arrur uv truf out’n de quivur uv de Lord. If
yer haz er copy uv God’s Word ’bout yer pussun, please tu’n ter dat
miner profit, Malerki, wat writ der las’ book in der ole Bible, an’
look at chaptur de fust, vurs ’leben; what do it say? I bet’r read it,
fur I got er noshun yer critics doan’t kerry enny Bible in thar pockits
ev’ry day in de week. Here is wat it says: ‘Fur from de risin’ uv de
sun evun unter de goin’ doun uv de same My name shall be great ’mong
de Gentiles.... My name shall be great ’mong de heathun, sez de Lord
uv hosts.’ How do dat suit yer? It look lak dat ort ter fix it. Dis
time it is de Lord uv hosts Hisse’f dat is doin’ de talkin’, an’ He
is talkin’ on er wonderful an’ glorious subjik. He is tellin’ uv de
spredin’ uv His Gorspel, uv de kummin’ uv His larst vict’ry ovur de
Gentiles, an’ de wurldwide glories dat at de las’ He is ter git. Oh, my
bruddrin, wat er time dat will be. My soul teks wing es I erticipate
wid joy dat merlenium day! De glories as dey shine befo’ my eyes blin’s
me, an’ I furgits de sun an’ moon an’ stars. I jes’ ’members dat ’long
’bout dose las’ days dat de sun an’ moon will go out uv bizniss, fur
dey won’ be needed no mo’. Den will King Jesus come back ter see His
people, an’ He will be de suffishunt light uv de wurl’. Joshwer’s
bat’ls will be ovur. Hezekier woan’t need no sun diul, an’ de sun an’
moon will fade out befo’ de glorius splendurs uv de New Jerruslem.
“But wat der mattur wid Jasper. I mos’ furgit my bizniss, an’ mos’ gon’
ter shoutin’ ovur de far away glories uv de secun’ cummin’ uv my Lord.
I beg pardun, an’ will try ter git back ter my subjik. I hev ter do
as de sun in Hezekier’s case--fall back er few dergrees. In dat part
uv de Word dat I gin yer frum Malerki--dat de Lord Hisse’f spoke--He
klars dat His glory is gwine ter spred. Spred? Whar? Frum de risin’
uv de sun ter de goin’ down uv de same. Wat? Doan’t say dat, duz it?
Dat’s edzakly wat it sez. Ain’t dat cleer ’nuff fer yer? De Lord pity
dese doubtin’ Tommusses. Here is ’nuff ter settul it all an’ kure de
wuss cases. Walk up yere, wise folks, an’ git yer med’sin. Whar is dem
high collar’d furloserfurs now? Wat dey skulkin’ roun’ in de brush fer?
Why doan’t yer git out in der broad arternoon light an’ fight fer yer
cullurs? Ah, I un’stans it; yer got no answer. De Bible is agin yer,
an’ in yer konshunses yer are convictid.
“But I hears yer back dar. Wat yer wisprin’ ’bout? I know; yer say yer
sont me sum papurs an’ I nevur answer dem. Ha, ha, ha! I got ’em. De
differkulty ’bout dem papurs yer sont me is dat dey did not answer me.
Dey nevur menshun de Bible one time. Yer think so much uv yoursef’s
an’ so little uv de Lord Gord an’ thinks wat yer say is so smart dat
yer karn’t even speak uv de Word uv de Lord. When yer ax me ter stop
believin’ in de Lord’s Word an’ ter pin my faith ter yo words, I ain’t
er gwine ter do it. I take my stan’ by de Bible an’ res’ my case on wat
it says. I take wat de Lord says ’bout my sins, ’bout my Saviour, ’bout
life, ’bout death, ’bout de wurl’ ter come, an’ I take wat de Lord say
’bout de sun an’ moon, an’ I cares little wat de haters of mer Gord
chooses ter say. Think dat I will fursake de Bible? It is my only Book,
my hope, de arsnel uv my soul’s surplies, an’ I wants nuthin’ else.
“But I got ernudder wurd fur yer yit. I done wuk ovur dem papurs dat
yer sont me widout date an’ widout yer name. Yer deals in figgurs an’
thinks yer are biggur dan de arkanjuls. Lemme see wat yer dun say.
Yer set yerse’f up ter tell me how fur it is frum here ter de sun.
Yer think yer got it down ter er nice p’int. Yer say it is 3,339,002
miles frum de earth ter de sun. Dat’s wat yer say. Nudder one say
dat de distuns is 12,000,000; nudder got it ter 27,000,000. I hers
dat de great Isuk Nutun wuk’t it up ter 28,000,000, an’ later on de
furloserfurs gin ernudder rippin’ raze to 50,000,000. De las’ one
gits it bigger dan all de yuthers, up to 90,000,000. Doan’t enny uv
’em ergree edzakly an’ so dey runs a guess game, an’ de las’ guess
is always de bigges’. Now, wen dese guessers kin hav a kunvenshun in
Richmun’ an’ all ergree ’pun de same thing, I’d be glad ter hear frum
yer ag’in, an’ I duz hope dat by dat time yer won’t be ershamed uv yer
name.
“Heeps uv railroads hes bin built sense I saw de fust one wen I wuz
fifteen yeers ole, but I ain’t hear tell uv er railroad built yit ter
de sun. I doan’ see why ef dey kin meshur de distuns ter de sun, dey
might not git up er railroad er a telurgraf an’ enabul us ter fin’
sumthin’ else ’bout it den merely how fur orf de sun is. Dey tell
me dat a kannun ball cu’d mek de trep ter de sun in twelve years.
Why doan’ dey send it? It might be rig’d up wid quarturs fur a few
furloserfers on de inside an’ fixed up fur er kumfurterble ride. Dey
wud need twelve years’ rashuns an’ a heep uv changes uv ramint--mighty
thick clo’es wen dey start and mighty thin uns wen dey git dar.
“Oh, mer bruthrin, dese things mek yer laugh, an’ I doan’ blem yer fer
laughin’, ’cept it’s always sad ter laugh at der follies uv fools. If
we cu’d laugh ’em out’n kount’nens, we might well laugh day an’ night.
Wat cuts inter my soul is, dat all dese men seem ter me dat dey is
hittin’ at de Bible. Dat’s wat sturs my soul an’ fills me wid reichus
wrath. Leetle keers I wat dey says ’bout de sun, purvided dey let de
Word uv de Lord erlone. But nevur min’. Let de heethun rage an’ de
people ’madgin er vain thing. Our King shall break ’em in pieces an’
dash ’em down. But blessed be de name uv our Gord, de Word uv de Lord
indurith furivur. Stars may fall, moons may turn ter blood, an’ de sun
set ter rise no mo’, but Thy kingdom, oh, Lord, is frum evurlastin’ ter
evurlastin’.
“But I has er word dis arternoon fer my own brutherin. Dey is de people
fer whose souls I got ter watch--fur dem I got ter stan’ an’ report at
de last--dey is my sheep an’ I’se der shepherd, an’ my soul is knit
ter dem forever. ’Tain fer me ter be troublin’ yer wid dese questions
erbout dem heb’nly bodies. Our eyes goes far beyon’ de smaller stars;
our home is clean outer sight uv dem twinklin’ orbs; de chariot dat
will cum ter take us to our Father’s mansion will sweep out by dem
flickerin’ lights an’ never halt till it brings us in clar view uv de
throne uv de Lamb. Doan’t hitch yer hopes to no sun nor stars; yer
home is got Jesus fer its light, an’ yer hopes mus’ trabel up dat way.
I preach dis sermon jest fer ter settle de min’s uv my few brutherin,
an’ repeats it ’cause kin’ frens wish ter hear it, an’ I hopes it will
do honour ter de Lord’s Word. But nuthin’ short of de purly gates can
satisfy me, an’ I charge, my people, fix yer feet on de solid Rock, yer
hearts on Calv’ry, an’ yer eyes on de throne uv de Lamb. Dese strifes
an’ griefs ’ll soon git ober; we shall see de King in His glory an’
be at ease. Go on, go on, ye ransom uv de Lord; shout His praises as
yer go, an’ I shall meet yer in de city uv de New Jeruserlum, whar we
shan’t need the light uv de sun, fer de Lam’ uv de Lord is de light uv
de saints.”
XIV
ONE JASPER DAY IN THE SPRING TIME OF 1878
_The Story of a Spectator_
The paper which follows is a composite, embodying many incidents and
facts connected with the Jasper sensation, and designed to reflect, so
far as possible, the impression made by the fiery old philosopher upon
those who though out of sympathy with his astronomical notions fell as
helpless victims beneath the spell of his eloquence and honesty.
For quite a while the Jasper sensation had grown acute in Richmond.
Beginning as a freak, it bloomed into a fad, got in the air, and
actually invaded private homes. It was a pentecost for the curious, a
juicy apple for the hard-driven reporter, a festival for the scoffer,
and a roaring financial bonanza for the saints of Sixth Mount Zion.
I confess that, for my part, it struck me as a ridiculous business
at best, the big bubble of an hour, and that if not caught at the
exact moment it would speedily disappear, and while I was a sprig of
a reporter it was the sort of thing which did not come my way. Being,
however, of a prying and curious turn of mind I determined to take
one glimpse at the black elephant. It took time, however, to get my
purpose into working order, but my day came in due course. I awoke one
morning to find the Saturday papers “festering” with Jasper. He was in
the advertisements, in the communications, and in the local columns,
and the show was to come off the next day. They told once more of his
astronomical absurdities, as I believed them to be, and informed me
that the exhibition would come off at 3 P. M. on the next afternoon.
At noon, I dropped into Reugers’ for my lunch, and a table of hayseed
legislators were filling the room, with noisy gabble about Jasper and
his planetary crochets. I found that some of them had signed a paper
asking for the approaching Jasperian exhibition, and others of them
were twitting and punching them for their folly; but I found that both
sides of them were going.
Later in the day, I got into a West Main Street car and found a seat
next to three ladies who evidently had a serious attack of Jasper,
and they, too, were bargaining to go. At the supper table in my
boarding-house that evening I found a sickly old Yankee minister
loafing in Richmond for his health, in a swivet of excitement about
Jasper and his coming oration. My landlady’s fourteen year old boy told
me that his mother had promised that he should go to hear Jasper, on
the hampering condition that he could get some gentleman to go with
him, and his appeal for my company would have beaten Jasper in the
point of passionate eloquence. To me, it all seemed a stew of folly,
and yet I found myself gratified to have this earnest lad as an excuse
in favour of my going.
I finally bargained with the eager youngster that I would waylay him
the next morning on his early escape from the Sunday-school, and we
would stroll out into the vicinity of the Sixth Mount Zion Church, and
make a preliminary reconnaissance of the general situation. We did not
find it quite a well-odoured stroll at all points, particularly as we
got in the neighbourhood of the church, for we encountered a tangle of
streets and alleys some of which were not in the best condition.
Not long after crossing Broad Street we began to run afoul of squads
and groups of coloured people, and the total strain of their chat was
Jasper and what was coming later on. The nearer we came to the church,
the combat, as the poet said, deepened, that is, the groups multiplied
and the Jasperian element grew. A huge negro woman hanging on a
side-gate on Clay Street was shouting in a piping voice about Jasper
and the sun, and telling to several dumb listeners that “she wuz gwine
ter be dar ef de Lord ‘sparred’ her an’ it wuz de las’ thing she done
on de yerth.”
I observed also several of those Virginia solons already
mentioned,--those big footed, badly shaven, and consequential
legislators,--prowling in the neighbourhood of the church, as if they
were studying and planning for burglaries. As we meandered the crooked
streets which admitted us to a sight of the great Sixth Mount Zion,
we saw in every direction the sign of a prodigious expectancy. Front
yards, streets, and alleys had their contingents, and you could not get
within ear-shot without getting some novel and surprising hints as to
John Jasper and the Solar System. We could hear singing in the church,
and we assumed that something in the way of worship was in process.
That, however, was not IT. That was a tame and pithless performance,
and if Jasper was in it at all he was evidently resting his better
forces for the bigger battle at three o’clock in the impending
afternoon.
The attraction on the inside was out of gear and didn’t draw. My young
companion, who was vastly my superior as to the Jasper situation,
informed me with marked conviction that the thing for us to do, and
to do at once and with a rush, was to go back to the house, swallow
our dinner, and get back with the utmost speed. We did not get away,
however, before we noted that all avenues in the vicinity of the church
seemed to be filling. Some were coming and going; some were knotted
into groups looking very solemn and apparently awestruck, and some
were crowding in like late comers at a circus; but whenever you caught
a word it had to do with Jasper. As we walked away, the son of my
landlady, full of the fidgets and outraged by my slow motion remarked
sagely: “Ain’t he got ’em?” I had to admit it; he had ’em,--by a grip
tighter than if he had ’em by the nape of the neck. Evidently enough,
he had them, and in a bunch as big as the town.
But I didn’t know it fully then. Being untutored in Jasper’s holding
power, I was fresh enough to suppose that all that buzzing, swarming
gang of negroes would scatter away to their frugal Sunday meal, and
that the alleys and streets would empty into their usual vacancy,
though the boy’s mien of hurry and eagerness was warning me to the
contrary. He mentioned several times that from what other boys had told
him we must go very early, and in order to gratify him we got out of
the boarding-house at a quarter after one, and we needed only fifteen
minutes of quiet walking to get a front seat.
Shades of the Pharaohs and shadows of the Pyramids! As we headed
towards the seat of planetary conflict the streets looked like black
rivers. Great lines of blacks, relieved here and there by companies of
whites, thronged the sidewalks. Were Hannibal’s Carthagenian legions
being turned loose in Richmond? Or had some mighty earthquake ripped
open the foundations of Richmond, and were the people, caked with the
soot, fleeing for life? It was more tranquil than that, thank heaven!
It was however the town, upheaved and agitated, striving fiercely for
Sixth Mount Zion, to hear the supreme sensation of all his race,--as
I now began to realize he was. Squares before we got to the church we
collided with the returning tide. “No use of going,” they said,--“house
already packed; streets full, men fighting and women fainting,” and a
deal more of the same sort.
But these appalling things only urged me on. If there was to be a
congestion or a catastrophe, it was just to my taste as well as to
my profession to attend. Besides, I had in me a desperate purpose to
get into that house, and I promised the boy that we’d sink or swim
together. I understood it was perfectly scriptural to rip off the roof
as the last resort. The occasion had jumped the common road, and it
was folly to falter now before any obstacle. The fight through that
mob has left me some marks to be noticed when I am dressed for my
burial. My toes were tramped into jelly. At one time I was lifted by a
rush, and one of my knees aches yet in bad weather as a consequence.
Several times I thought the landlady’s boy was doomed to become an
unrecognizable mangle. It began to sift into me that Jasper was more
than a man, and nothing short of an entire situation and a public
menace. My business was more and more to see him.
The church, when first seen, looked like a tall boat borne on the heads
of thousands, and yet I pushed along. Now, right here, I have to drop
my honesty and become a hypocrite. How I got into that house must not
be told. There is a muscular, ginger-bread fellow who stays in the
office down town, and he broke all rules and I know not how many bones,
and, miraculous as it was, landed me and the boy into the pulpit with
blood on the boy’s nose.
Now, excuse me from describing the music and the praying, though I
would like to mention that the song that the old darkey in the Amen
corner with the white nape and the quivering voice started up, and
which it looked to me like all the people in the world were singing,
rather jerked me out of myself and took me off on its waves, and when I
got back I had to use my handkerchief in an unusual way.
Jasper made a prayer also, and the way he talked to the Lord about his
own meanness and his ignorance, knocked out of me about half of my
notion that he was a dribbling old egotist and numbskull. He caused
cold chills to pass up my back by several surprising things which he
said to the Lord in a most serious way, and I have to own that by the
time he said “Amen,” I was a little prejudiced in his favour.
Further, allow me to say right here that I know positively that I
never saw so many people in a house of that size at one time as was in
the church that afternoon. Women sat in each other’s laps, the pulpit
was piled up, and all the spaces chinked, packed, and doubled up. I
ought to add that the look of eagerness, expectation, and attention
was oppressive. No whispering, no looking around; only silence, except
when Jasper started them. Then you felt the mastery and the subduing
sovereignty of the man. I saw that the white people had been favoured
in getting seats, and there were hordes of them. The legislators
abounded, and there were preachers, lawyers, notable men, fashionable
women, and not a few strangers in Richmond, all herding together and
very serious. It wasn’t, I confess, what I expected. I looked for a
circus, and had hooked a funeral,--no, not a funeral; it wasn’t dismal
enough for that, but far more thoughtful and wakeful than a funeral can
be.
I looked Jasper over with a critical eye, and before he began to
preach I had his age down for sixty-two, but when he began to career
over the pulpit I knocked off ten years. He had an unattractive bulge
on his face around his cheekbone, but his head looked like an alpine
cliff. His eye, I noted, was an all sufficient redeemer, and its flash
and laugh would cover acres of ugliness. His whiskers were decidedly
undistinguished, except in their cut, and I marked his blood as
unmixed. He dressed in a manner best suited to prevent people from
noticing how he dressed, and his tall form and alert action made him
attractive in the pulpit.
During the sermon he had something to say about himself. “I’ll be
sixty-six years old on de fo’th day uv dis coming July. I set out ter
seek de salvation uv my Gord in 1839. I have never been in any school,
but I spent some months trying ter learn ter spell. I wuz converted in
Marse Sam Hargrove’s terbakur fac’try in dis city, on de 25th day uv
July, 1839, and frum dat day I have know’d dat Gord had anintid me wid
de Holy Ghost ter preach de Gorspil uv His Son.”
You couldn’t hear Jasper say that and doubt. He seemed to assert a
mastery over me from the start as to his sincerity. It was impossible,
moreover, to question the honesty of anything he said. He made another
remark at the outset which made everybody smile, but it was not a
frivolous smile by a long shot. He said he was so ignorant when he
first felt he must preach that he thought maybe God wouldn’t want a man
to preach who could not read, and that maybe the devil had put that
notion into him. Then he stopped, and with a decided smile he said, “I
got a notion dat ef de debbul put dis thing in me, den he wuz a bigger
fool dan I ever thought he cud be. I don’t think he hav made much by
settin’ me out ter preach ef he did fer I done knocked his kingdom hard
blows many a day, but arter more dan forty years servin’ my Gord I know
who I hev b’lieved. I feel dat wenever I stan’ up in His name, de Lord
is wid me.”
After these remarks he gave out his text and started in.