Chapter II: Part 2

Tradition has failed to give us the name of the ill-fated brother who in seeking to kill time, seemed to have got knocked into oblivion. It is worth while to say that the white ministers were within the law in attending occasions like those described above and felt the necessity of care and discretion in managing the exercises, lest the hostilities of irreligious people should be excited against the negroes. It is due to the white people, and especially to that denomination to which John Jasper was associated, to say that under their influence the negroes, who were practically barbarians when they were brought into the South, were civilized and Christianized. A large proportion of them were well-mannered and nobly-behaved Christians at the time their slavery ended. The church buildings were always constructed so that the white people and the negroes could worship in the same house. They were baptized by the same minister, they sat down together at the communion table, they heard the same sermons, sang the same songs, were converted at the same meetings, and were baptized at the same time. Ofttimes, and in almost all places, they were allowed to have services to themselves. In this, of course, they enjoyed a larger freedom than when they met in the same house with the white people.

They know little of the facts who imagine that there was estrangement and alienation between the negroes and the whites in the matter of religion. Far from it. There was much of good fellowship between the whites and negroes in the churches, and the white ministers took notable interest in the religious welfare of the slaves. They often visited them pastorally and gladly talked with them about their salvation. These chapters are not intended either to defend or to condemn slavery; but in picturing the condition of things which encompassed Jasper during the days of slavery, it is worth while to let it be understood that it was during their bondage and under the Christian influence of Southern people, that the negroes of the South were made a Christian people. It was the best piece of missionary work ever yet done upon the face of the earth.

Another fact should be referred to here. Jasper was a pastor in the City of Petersburg even before the breaking out of the Civil War. He had charge of one of the less prominent negro churches and went over from Richmond for two Sundays in each month. This, of course, showed the enlargement of his liberty, that he could take the time to leave the city so often in pursuance of his ministerial work.

It need hardly be mentioned that his presence in Petersburg brought unusual agitation. He fairly depopulated the other negro churches and drew crowds that could not be accommodated. When it was rumoured that Jasper was to preach for the first time on Sunday afternoon, the Rev. Dr. Keene, of the First Baptist Church, and many other white people attended. They were much concerned lest his coming should produce a disturbance, and they went with the idea of preventing any undue excitement. Jasper, flaming with fervid zeal and exhilarated with the freedom of the truth, carried everything before him. He had not preached long before the critical white people were stirred to the depths of their souls and their emotion showed in their weeping. They beheld and felt the wonderful power of the man. It is said that Dr. Keene was completely captivated, and recognized in Jasper a man whom God had called.

V

“WHAR SIN KUM FRUM?”

My first sight of Jasper must always remain in the chapter of unforgotten things. The occasion was Sunday afternoon, and the crowd was overflowing. Let me add that it was one of his days of spiritual intoxication, and he played on every key in the gamut of the human soul.

Two questions had been shot at him, and they both took effect. The first had to do with creation. For a half hour he pounded away on the creatorship of God. His address was very strong and had in it both argument and eloquence. He marshalled the Scriptures with consummate skill, and built an argument easily understood by the rudest of his hearers; and yet so compact and tactful was he, that his most cultured hearers bent beneath his force.

But the second question brought on the pyrotechnics. It had to do with the origin of sin,--“Whar sin kum frum?”--as he cogently put it. It was here that a riotous liberty possessed him, and he preached with every faculty of his mind, with every passion and sentiment of his soul, with every nerve, every muscle, and every feature of his body. For nearly an hour the air cracked with excitement and the crowd melted beneath his spell. It was my first experience of that unusual power of his to move people in all possible ways by a single effort.

Jasper knew the fundamental doctrines of the Bible admirably, and always lived in vital contact with their essence. There was a kinship between the Bible and himself, and, untaught of the schools, he studied himself in the light of the Bible and studied the Bible in the darkness of himself. This kept him in contact with people and whenever he preached he invaded their experience and made conscious their wants to themselves. And so it came to pass that questions which perplexed them they had the habit of bringing to him. This question as to the origin of sin had been spurring and nagging some of his speculative hearers. They had wrangled over it, and they unloaded their perplexity upon him. So it was with this burden heavy upon him that he came to the pulpit on this occasion.

It may have been a touch of his dramatic art, but at any rate he showed an amiable irritation, in view of his being under constant fire from his controversial church-members, and so he started in as if he had a grievance. It gave pith and excitement to his bearing, as he faced the issue thus thrust upon him. As a fact, he knew that many inquirers sought to entangle him by their questions and this opened the way for his saying, with cutting effect, that they would do better to inquire, “whar sin wuz gwine ter kerry ’em, instid uv whar it kum frum.”

“An’ yer wants ter know whar sin kum frum, yer say. Why shud yer be broozin’ eroun’ wid sich a questun as dat? Dar ain’ but wun place in de univus uv Gord whar yer kin git any infermashun on dis pint, and dar, I am free ter tel yer, yer kin git all dat yer wish ter know, an’ maybe a good deal mo’. De place whar de nollidge yer need kin be got iz in de Word uv Gord. I knows wat sum dat hav’ bin talkin’ ’bout dis thing iz arter. I know de side uv de questun dey iz struttin’ up on. Dey say, or dey kinder hint, dat de Lord Gord iz de orthur uv sin. Dat’s wat dey iz wispurrin’ roun’ dis town. Dey can’t fool Jasper; but I tell you de debbul iz playin’ pranks on um an’ will drag um down ter de pit uv hell, ef dey doan luk out mity quick. De Lord Gord know’d frum de beginnin’ dat sum uv dese debbullish people wud bring up dis very charge an’ say dat He had tendid dat dar shud be sin frum de beginnin’. He done speak His mind ’bout dat thing, an’ ef yer luk in de fust chaptur uv Jeems yer’ll find de solum uttrunce on dis subjik an’ it kleers Gord furevur frum dis base slandur. ‘Let no man say,’ says de Lord, ‘wen he is temptid dat he is temptid uv Gord, fur Gord kin not be temptid uv any man, an’ neethur tempts He any man.’ Did yer hear dat? Dat’s de Lord’s own wurds. It spressly says dat people will be temptid,--everybody is temptid; I bin havin’ my temptashuns all my life, an’ I haz um yit, a heap uv um, an’ sum uv um awful bad, but yer ain’ ketchin’ Jasper er sayin’ dat Gord is at de bottum uv um. Ef I shud say it, it wud be a lie, an’ all iz liars wen dey say dat Gord tempts um? De sinnur is gettin’ towurds de wust wen he iz willin’ ter lay de blame uv hiz sins on de Lord. Do it ef yer will, but de cuss uv Gord will be erpun yez wen yer try ter mek de Lord Gord sich es you iz; an’ ter mek b’liev dat de Lord gits orf His throne an’ kums down in ter mire an’ clay uv your wicked life an’ tries ter jog an’ ter fool yer inter sin. I trimbul ter think uv sich a thing! I wonder dat de Lord duzn’t forge new thunderbolts uv Hiz rath an’ crush de heds uv dem dat charge ’im wid de folly uv human sin.

“Sum uv yer wud be mity glad ter git Gord mix’d up in yer sins an’ ter feel dat He iz es bad es you iz. It jes’ shows how base, how lost, how ded, you’se bekum. Wudn’t we hev a pritty Gord ef He wuz willin’ ter git out in de nite an’ go plungin’ down inter de horribul an’ ruinus transgresshuns in wich sum men indulg’. Let me kleer dis thing up befo’ I quit it. Bar in mine, dat Gord kin not be temptid uv any man. Try it ef yer chuze, an’ He will fling yer in ter de lowes’ hell, an’ don’t yer dar evur ter say, or ter think, or ter hope, dat de temtashun ter du rong things kum ter yer from Gord. It do not kum frum erbuv, but it kum out uv your foul an’ sinful hart. Dey iz born dar, born uv your bad thoughts, born uv your hell-born lusts, an’ dey gits strong in yer ’caus’ yer don’t strangul um at de start.

“But why shud dar be trubble ’bout dis subjic? Wat duz de Bibul say on dis here mattur ’bout whar sin kum frum? We kin git de troof out uv dat buk, fur it kuntains de Wurd uv Gord. Our Gord kin not lie; He nevur hav’ lied frum de foundashun uv de wurl’. He iz de troof an’ de life an’ He nevur lies.

“Now, wat do He say kunsarnin’ dis serus questun dat is plowin’ de souls uv sum uv my brudderin. Ter de Bibul, ter de Bibul, we’ll go an’ wat do we git wen we git dar? De Bibul say dat Eve wuz obur dar in de gardin uv Edun one day an’ dat she wuz dar by hersef. De Lord med Eve, ’caus’ it worn’t gud fer Adum ter be erloan, an’ it luks frum dis kase dat it wuz not quite safe fer Eve ter be lef at home by hersef. But Adum worn’t wid her; doan know whar he wuz,--gorn bogin’ orf sumwhars. He better bin at home tendin’ ter his fambly. Dat ain’ de only time, by a long shot, dat dar haz bin de debbul ter pay at home wen de man hev gorn gaddin’ eroun’, instid uv stayin’ at home an’ lookin’ arter hiz fambly.

“While Eve wuz sauntrin’ an’ roamin’ eroun’ in de buterful gardin, de ole sarpint, dyked up ter kill, kum gallervantin’ down de road an’ he kotch’d site uv Eve an’ luk lik he surpriz’d very much but not sorry in de leas’. Now yer mus’ kno’ dat ole sarpint wuz de trickies’ an’ de arties’ uv all de beas’ uv de feil’,--de ole debbul, dat’s wat he wuz. An’ wat he do but go struttin’ up ter Eve in a mity frien’ly way, scrapin’ an’ bowin’ lik a fool ded in luv.

“‘How yer do?’ He tries ter be perlite, an’ puts on hiz sweetes’ airs. Oh, dat wuz an orful momint in de life uv Eve an’ in de histurry uv dis po’ los’ wurl uv ours. In dat momint de pizun eat thru her flesh, struk in her blud, an’ went ter her hart. At fust she wuz kinder shame’; but she wuz kinder loansum, an’ she wuz pleas’d an’ tickl’d ter git notic’d in dat way an’ so she stay’d dar instid uv runnin’ fer her life.

“‘Ve’y wel, I thanks yer,’ she say ertremblin’, ‘how iz you dis mornin’?’ De sarpint farly shouts wid joy. He dun got her tenshun an’ she lek ter hear ’im, an’ he feel he got hiz chanz an’ so goes on:

“‘Nice gardin yer got dar,’ he say in er admirin’ way. ‘Yer got heap uv nice appuls obur dar.’

“‘Oh, yes, indeed,’ Eve replies. ‘We got lots uv um.’

“Eve spoke dese wurds lik she wuz proud ter deth ’caus’ de sarpint lik de gardin. Dar stood de sarpint ve’y quiut tel, suddin lek, he juk eroun’ an’ he says ter Eve:--

“‘Kin yer eat all de appuls yer got obur dar?’

“‘No, hindeed,’ says Eve, ‘we can’t eat um all. We got moar’n we kin ’stroy save our lives. Dey gittin’ ripe all de time; we hev jus’ hogshids uv um.’

“‘Oh, I didn’t mean dat,’ spoke de sarpint, es ef shock’d by not bein’ understud. ‘My p’int iz, iz yer ’low’d ter eat um all? Dat’s wat I want ter know. As ter yer laws an’ rites in de gardin, duz dey all sute yer?’

“Fer a minnit de ’oman jump’d same es if sumbudy struk her a blow. De col’ chils run down her bak, an’ she luk lik she wan ter run, but sumhow de eye uv de sarpint dun got a charm on her. Dar wuz a struggul, er reglur Bull Run battul, gwine on in her soul at dat momint.

“‘Wat yer ax me dat questun fur?’ Eve axed, gaspin’ w’ile she spoke. Den de debbul luk off. He tri ter be kam an’ ter speak lo an’ kine, but dar wuz a glar’ in hiz eyes. ‘I begs many parduns,’ he says, ’skuse me, I did not mean ter meddul wid yer privit buzniz. I’d bettur skuse mysef, I reckin, and try an’ git erlong.’

“‘No; doan go,’ Eve sed. ‘Yer havn’t hurt my feelin’s. Wat yer say jes’ put new thoughts in my min’ an’ kinder shuk me up at fust. But I doan min’ talkin’.’

“‘Ef dat be de kase,’ speaks up de debbul, quite brave-lek, ‘begs you skuse me ter ask agin ef de rules uv de gardin ’lows yer ter eat any uv dem appuls yer got in de gardin? I haz my reasuns fer axin’ dis.’

“Eve stud dar shivurrin’ lik she freezin’ an’ pale es de marbul toomstoan. But arter a gud wile she pint her han obur to er tree, on de hill on de rite, an’ she tel ’im, es ef she wuz mity ’fraid, dat dar wuz a tree obur dar uv de Nollidge an’ uv de Deestinxshun, an’ she say, ‘De Lord Gord He tel us we mus’ not eat dem appuls; dey pisun us, an’ de day we eat um we got to die.’

“Oh, my brudderin, worn’t times mity serus den? ’Twuz de hour wen de powurs uv darknis wuz gittin’ in an’ de foundashuns uv human hopes wuz givin’ way. Den it wuz he git up close ter Eve an’ wispur in her ear:--

“‘Did de Lord Gord tel yer dat? Doan tel nobody, but I wan’ ter tel yer dat it ain’t so. Doan yer b’liev it. Doan let ’im fool yer! He know dat’s de bes’ fruit in all de gardin,--de fruit uv de Nollidge an’ de Deestinxshun, an’ dat wen yer eats it yer will know es much es He do. Yer reckin He wants yer ter know es much es He do? Na-a-w; an’ dat’s why He say wat He do say. You go git um. Dey’s de choysis’ fruit in de gardin, an’ wen yer eats um yer will be equ’ul ter Gord.’

“Erlas, erlas! po’ deluded an’ foolish Eve! It wuz de momint uv her evurlastin’ downfall. Clouds uv darknis shrouds her min’ an’ de ebul sperrit leap inter her soul an’ locks de do’ behin’ him. Dat dedly day she bruk ’way frum de Gord dat made her, Eve did, an’ purtuk uv de fruit dat brought sin an’ ruin an’ hell inter de wurl’.

“Po’ foolish Eve! In dat momunt darknis fils her min’, evul leaps in ter er heart, an’ she pluck de appul, bruk de kumman uv Gord, and ate de fatul fruit wat brought death ter all our race.

“Artur er wile, Adum kum walkin’ up de gardin and Eve she runs out ter meet ’im. Wen he kum near she hol’ up er appul in her han’ and tell him it iz gud ter eat. Oh, blin’ and silly womun! First deceived herself, she turn roun’ and deceives Adum. Dat’s de way; we gits wrong, an’ den we pulls udder folks down wid us. We rarly goes down by oursefs.

“But whar wuz de rong? Whar, indeed? It wuz in Eve’s believin’ de debbul and not believin’ Gord. It wuz doin’ wat de debbul sed an’ not doin’ wat Gord sed. An’ yer kum here and ax me whar sin kum frum! Yer see now, doan’ sher? It kum out uv de pit uv hell whar it wuz hatched ’mong de ainjuls dat wuz flung out uv heav’n ’caus dey disurbeyd Gord. It kum from dat land whar de name uv our Gord is hated. It wuz brought by dat ole sarpint, de fathur uv lies, and he brung it dat he mite fool de woman, an’ in dat way sot up on de urth de wurks uv de debbul. Sin iz de black chile uv de pit, it is. It kum frum de ole sarpint at fust, but it’s here now, rite in po’ Jasper’s hart and in your hart; wharevur dar iz a man or a woman in dis dark wurl’ in tears dar iz sin,--sin dat insults Gord, tars down His law, and brings woes ter evrybody.

“An’ you, stung by de sarpint, wid Gord’s rath on yer and yer feet in de paf uv deth, axin’ whar sin kum frum? Yer bettur fly de rath uv de judgmint day.

“But dis iz ernuff. I jes’ tuk time ter tell whar sin kum frum. But my tong carnt refuse ter stop ter tel yer dat de blud uv de Lam’ slain frum de foundashun uv de wurl’ is grettur dan sin and mitier dan hell. It kin wash erway our sins, mek us whitur dan de drivin snow, dress us in redemshun robes, bring us wid shouts and allerluejurs bak ter dat fellership wid our Fathur, dat kin nevur be brokin long ez ’ternity rolls.”

This outbreak of fiery eloquence was not the event of the afternoon, but simply an incident. It came towards the end of the service, and its delivery took not much more time than is required to read this record of it. His language was perhaps never more broken; but what he said flamed with terrific light. While there were touches of humour in his description of the scene in the Garden, his message gathered a seriousness and solemnity which became simply overpowering. No words can describe the crushing and alarming effect which his weird story of the entrance of sin into the world had upon his audience. Men sobbed and fell to the floor in abject shame, and frightened cries for mercy rang wild through the church. Possibly never a sweeter gospel note sounded than that closing reference which he made to the cleansing power of the blood shed from the foundation of the world.

There were many white persons present, and they went away filled with a sense of the greatness and power of the Gospel.

VI

JASPER SET FREE

Jasper came to the verge of his greatness after he had passed the half century line. Freedom had come and to him brought nothing except the opportunity to carve out his own fortune. His ministry had been migratory, restricted and chiefly of ungathered fruit. He found himself in Richmond without money and without a home. By daily toil he was picking up his bread. He was dead set on doing something in the way he wanted to do it. He was of the constructive sort, and never had done well when building on another man’s foundation.

His ambition was to build a church. Down on the James River, where the big furnaces were run, there was a little island, and on the island a little house, and scattered along the canal and river were many of the newly liberated and uncared for people of his race.

He began to hold religious services on the island,--said by some to have been held in a private house, and by others in a deserted stable, which was fitted up to accommodate the increasing crowds. Things went well with him. The joy of building flamed his soul, and beneath the tide of the river he baptized many converts. Happy days they were! The people were wild with enthusiasm, and the shouts of his congregation mingled with the noise of the James River Falls. It was to Jasper as the gate of heaven, and he walked as the King’s ambassador among his admiring flock.

But it could not be that way long. There was not room enough to contain the people, and yet the church was poverty itself, and what could they do? Happily they found a deserted building beyond the canal and accessible to the growing company of his lovers in the city. There things went with a snap and a roar. From every quarter the people came to hear this African Boanerges. The crowds and songs and riotous shouts of his young church filled the neighbourhood. Constant processions, with Jasper at the head, visited the river or canal, to give baptism to the multiplying converts.

Meanwhile, however, the northern part of the city was fast becoming the Africa of Richmond. Into its meaner outskirts at first the tide began to roll, but in a little while the white people began to retreat, street after street, until a vast area was given up to the coloured people. Jasper’s people, also, as they prospered, began to settle in this new Africa, and Jasper found once more that he was simply dwelling in tents, when the time was coming for the building of the temple.

Jasper was on the outlook for a new location. Finally he hit upon an old brick church building, at the corner of Duval and St. John Streets. The Presbyterians, who had started this mission years before, had despaired of success under the changed conditions and they offered the house for sale, the price being $2,025. The sense of growth and progress fairly maddened this unique and fascinating preacher with enthusiasm. He had found a home for his people at last, and yet, in point of fact, he had not. The house was a magnificent gain on their old quarters, and yet every Sunday afternoon found most of his crowd on the outside. Quite soon his people had to enlarge and remodel the house, and this they did at a cost of $6,000. By that time the membership was well on towards 2,000. There they dwelt for a number of years until the church became the centre of the religious life in that part of the town. “John Jasper,” as he was universally called, had easily become the most attractive and popular minister of his race in the city. By this time he was over sixty years of age, and it would have taken much to have quenched the yet unwasted buoyancy and vitality of his ministry. Necessity demanded another building, and in the later prime of his kingly manhood, and very largely by his personal forcefulness and intrepid leadership, he led a movement for a house of worship that would be respectable in almost any part of Richmond. What was more to his purpose, it was very capacious, wisely adapted to the wants of his people and a fitting monument to his constructive resource and enthusiasm. It is said that he, out of his own slender resources, gave $3,000 to the building fund, and this was probably in addition to great sums of money given him by white people who went to hear him preach and who delighted to honour and cheer the old man. I suppose that thousands of dollars were given him from no motive save that of kindness towards him, and the donours would just as soon have given the money directly to him and for his own use. They helped to build the church simply to please the old man whose eloquence and honesty had won their hearts. His love for his church amounted to devotion. He had seen it grow from the most insignificant beginning, had watched the tottering steps of its childhood, and with pride natural and affectionate had gloried in its prosperity.

But be it said to the old man’s honour that he was too great to be conceited. He had no sense of boastfulness or self-glorification about the church. He had the frankness to tell the truth about things when it was necessary, but he had too much manly modesty to claim distinction for the part he had borne in the building up of the church. Indeed, he was strangely silent about his relations with the church, and his dominant feeling was one of affectionate solicitude for the future of the church rather than of self-satisfaction on account of its history.

There was a strain of severity in Jasper. He had some of the temper of the reformer. He was quick,--often too quick--in condemning those who criticised him. The fact is, he was so unfeignedly honest that he could not be patient towards those whose sincerity or honesty he doubted. For those who plotted against the church or gave trouble in other ways he had little charity. Those that would not work in harness, and help to move things along, he was quite willing to show to the church door. For his part, he could not love those very warmly who did not love the “Sixth Mount Zion.”

This may be the right place to say a word or two as to Jasper’s enemies. He was a man of war, and it may be that his prejudices sometimes got in the saddle. But not very often. Possibly, his most striking characteristic was his bottom sense of justice. He told the truth by instinct, and it never occurred to him to take an undue advantage. If, however, a man wronged him, he was simply terrible in bringing the fellow to book. There was a case, in which it is better not to mention names, in which an insidious and grievous accusation was brought against this sturdy old friend of the faith. The charge sought to fasten falsehood upon Jasper. That was enough for him,--it amounted to a declaration of war, and at once he entered upon the conflict. Never did he cease the strife until the charge was unsaid. Nothing, in short, could terrify him.

It must not be inferred that those who assailed him with questions and arguments were put into the category of personal enemies. Controversy was exactly to his taste. All he asked of the other man was to state his proposition, and he was ready for the contest. Not that he went into it pell-mell. By no means; he took time for preparation, and when he spoke it was hard to answer him. This, of course, applies when the questions were theological and Scriptural, and not scientific. His knowledge of the Scriptures was remarkable, and his spiritual insight into the doctrines of the Bible was extraordinary. When he preached, he supported every point with Scriptural quotations, invariably giving the chapter and verse, and often adding, “Ef yer don’ find it jes’ ezackly ez I tells yer, yer kin meet me on de street nex’ week an’ say ter me: ‘John Jasper, you ar er lier,’ an’ I won’ say er wurd.”

What gave to Jasper an exalted and impressive presence was his insistent claim that he was a God-sent man. This he asserted in almost every sermon, and with such evident conviction that he forced other people to believe it. Even those who differed with him were constrained to own his sincerity and Godliness. It was impossible to be with him much without being impressed that he was anointed of God for his work. It was in this that his people gloried. Their faith in him was preëminent,--far above every question--and he was also full of inspiration. You may talk with his disciples now, wherever you meet them, and they are quick to tell you that “Brer Jasper was certinly aninted uv God,” and even the more intelligent of the people ascribed his greatness to the fact that he was under the power of the Holy Ghost. Many wicked people heard him preach, and some of them still went their wicked way, but they felt that the power of God was with Jasper, and they were always ready to say so. In many points, John Jasper was strikingly like John the Baptist,--a just man and holy, and the people revered him in a way I never met with in any other man.

VII

THE PICTURE-MAKER

In the circle of Jasper’s gifts his imagination was preëminent. It was the mammoth lamp in the tower of his being. A matchless painter was he. He could flash out a scene, colouring every feature, defining every incident and unveiling every detail. Time played no part in the performance,--it was done before you knew it. Language itself was of second moment. His vocabulary was poverty itself, his grammar a riot of errors, his pronunciation a dialectic wreck, his gestures wild and unmeaning, his grunts and heavings terrible to hear. At times he hardly talked but simply emitted; his pictures were simply himself in flame. His entire frame seemed to glow with living light, and almost wordlessly he wrought his miracles. But do not misunderstand. Some insisted on saying that education would have stripped John of his genius by subduing the riot of his power and chastening the fierceness of his imagination. I think not, for John in a good sense was educated. He was a reverential and laborious student for half-a-century. He worked on his sermons with a marked assiduity and acquired the skill and mastership of faithful struggle. Even his imagination had to work, and its products were the fruit of toil. There was no mark of the abnormal or disproportionate in his sky, but all the stars were big and bright. He was well ballasted in his mental make-up, and in his most radiant pictures there was an ethical regard for facts, and an instinctive respect for the truth. Moreover, his ministrations fairly covered the theological field, were strongly doctrinal, and he grappled with honest vigour the deepest principles of the Gospel. He was also intensely practical, scourging sin, lashing neglect, and with lofty authority demanding high and faithful living.

Think not of Jasper merely as a pictorial preacher. There were wrought into his pictures great principles and rich lessons. But now and then he would present a sermon which was largely a series of pictures from beginning to end. His imagination would be on duty all the time and yet never flag. I cannot forget his sermon on Joseph and his Brethren. It was a stirring presentation of the varied scenes in that memorable piece of history. He opened on the favouritism of Jacob, and was exceedingly strong in condemning partiality, as unhappily expressed in the coat of many colours. That brief part was a sermon itself for parents. From that he passed quickly to the envy of his brothers, jealousy was a demon creeping in among them, inflicting poisonous stings, and spreading his malignant power, until murder rankled in every heart. Then came Joseph, innocent and ignorant of offending, to fall a victim to their conspiracy, with the casting of him into the pit, the selling of him to the travelling tradesmen, the showing to Jacob of the blood-stained coat, with scene after scene until the happy meeting at last between Jacob and his long lost son.

One almost lived a lifetime under the spell of that sermon. It was eloquent, pathetic, terrific in its denunciations, rich in homely piety, and with strains of sweetness that was as balm to sorrowing souls. The effects were as varied as human thoughts and sentiments. The audience went through all moods. Now they were bent down as if crushed with burdens; now they were laughing in tumults at the surprises and charms of heavenly truth; anon they were sobbing as if all hearts were broken, and in a moment hundreds were on their feet shaking hands, shouting, and giving forth snatches of jubilant song. This all seems extravagant, without sobriety entirely, but those that were there, perhaps without an exception, felt that it was the veritable house of God and the gate of heaven.

At other times, Jasper’s sermons were sober and deliberate, sometimes even dull; but rarely did the end come without a burst of eloquence or an attractive, entertaining picture. But, remember, that his pictures were never foreign to his theme. They were not lugged in to fill up. They had in them the might of destiny and fitted their places, and fitted them well. Often they came unheralded, but they were evidently born for their part. On one occasion his sermon was on Enoch. It started out at a plodding gait and seemed for a time doomed to dullness, for Jasper could be dull sometimes. At one time he brought a smile to the faces of the audience, in speaking of Enoch’s age, by the remark: “Dem ole folks back dar cud beat de presunt ginerashun livin’ all ter pieces.”

As he approached the end of his sermon, his face lighted up and took on a new grace and passion, and he went out with Enoch on his last walk. That walk bore him away to the border of things visible; earthly scenes were lost to view; light from the higher hills gilded the plains. Enoch caught sight of the face of God, heard the music and the shouting of a great host, and saw the Lamb of God seated on the throne. The scene was too fair to lose, and Enoch’s walk quickened into a run which landed him in his father’s house. It was a quick, short story, told in soft and mellow tones, and lifted the audience up so far that the people shouted and sang as if they were themselves entering the gates of heaven.

One of his more elaborate descriptions, far too rich to be reproduced, celebrated the ascension of Elijah. There was the oppressive unworldliness of the old prophet, his efforts to shake off Elisha, and Elisha’s wise persistence in clamouring for a blessing from his spiritual father. But it was when the old prophet began to ascend that Jasper, standing off like one apart from the scene, described it so thrillingly that everything was as plain as open day. To the people, the prophet was actually and visibly going away. They saw him quit the earth, saw him rise above the mountain tops, sweeping grandly over the vast fields of space, and finally saw him as he passed the moon and stars. Then something happened. In the fraction of a second Jasper was transmuted into Elijah and was actually in the chariot and singing with extraordinary power the old chorus: “Going up to heaven in a chariot of fire.” The scene was overmastering! For a time I thought that Jasper was the real Elijah, and my distinct feeling was that the song which he sang could be heard around the world. Of course, it was not so; but there was something in the experience of the moment that has abided with me ever since.

At a funeral one Sunday I saw Jasper attempt a dialogue with death, himself speaking for both. The line of thought brought him face to face with death and the grave. The scene was solemnized by a dead body in a coffin. He put his hands over his mouth and stooped down and addressed death. Oh, death--death, speak to me. Where is thy sting? And then with the effect of a clairvoyant he made reply: “Once my sting was keen and bitter, but now it is gone. Christ Jesus has plucked it out, and I have no more power to hurt His children. I am only the gatekeeper to open the gateway to let His children pass.” In closing this chapter an incident will largely justify my seemingly extraordinary statements as to the platform power of this unschooled negro preacher in Virginia.

In company with a friend I went very often Sunday afternoons to hear Jasper and the fact was bruited about quite extensively, and somewhat to the chagrin of some of my church-members. Two of them, a professor in Richmond College and a lawyer well-known in the city, took me to task about it. They told me in somewhat decided tones that my action was advertising a man to his injury, and other things of a similar sort. I cared but little for their criticism, but told them that if they would go to hear him when he was at his best, and if afterwards they felt about him as they then felt, I would consider their complaints. They went the next Sunday. The house was overflowing, and Jasper walked the mountain tops that day. His theme was “The raising of Lazarus” and by steps majestic he took us along until he began to describe the act of raising Lazarus from the dead. It happened that the good professor was accompanied by his son, a sprightly lad of about ten, who was sitting between his father and myself. Suddenly the boy, evidently agitated, turned to me and begged that we go home at once. I sought to soothe him, but all in vain, for as he proceeded the boy urgently renewed his request to go home. His father observed his disquietude and putting an arm around him restored him to calmness. After the service ended and we had reached the street, I said to him: “Look here, boy, what put you into such a fidget to quit the church before the end of the service?” “Oh, doctor, I thought he had a dead man under the pulpit and was going to take him out,” he said. My lawyer brother heard the sermon and with profound feeling said, “Hear that, and let me say to you that in a lifetime I have heard nothing like it, and you ought to hear that man whenever you can.”

I heard no later criticisms from any man concerning my conduct in evincing such cordial interest in this eloquent son of Fluvanna.

It was only necessary to persuade Jasper’s critics to hear him, to remove all question as to his genuine character and effective spiritual ministry.

VIII

JASPER’S STAR WITNESS

The domestic history of this rare and gifted man was not without its tragical incidents. One of the worst features of slavery, as an institution in the South, was the inevitable legislation which it necessitated, and under which many grievous wrongs were perpetrated. The right of the slave owner to the person of the slave carried with it the authority to separate man and wife at the dictate of self-interest, and that was often done, though it ought to be said that thousands of kind-hearted men and women did their utmost to mitigate the wrongs which such legislation legalized. In the sale of the negroes regard was often had for the marriage relation, and it was arranged so that the man and wife might not be torn asunder. But it was not always this way. Too often the sanctity of marriage and the laws of God concerning it were sacrificed to the greed of the slaveholder.

If the tradition of Mr. Jasper’s first marriage is to be accepted as history, then he was the victim of the cruel laws under which the institution of slavery was governed. In the changes which came to him in the breaking up of the family to which he belonged his lot was cast for a while in the city of Williamsburg. The story is that he became enamoured of a maiden bearing the name of Elvy Weaden, and he was successful in his suit. It chanced, however, that on the very day set for his marriage, he was required to go to Richmond to live. The marriage was duly solemnized and he was compelled to leave his bride abruptly, but was buoyed with the hope that fairer days would come when their lot would be cast together. The fleeting days quenched the hope and chilled the ardour of the bride, and in course of time the impatient woman notified Jasper that unless he would come to see her and they could live together, she would account herself free to seek another husband. He was not a man to brook mistreatment, and he made short work of the matter. He wrote her that he saw no hope of returning to Williamsburg, and that she must go ahead and work out her own fate. Naturally enough, the difficulties under which the married life had to be maintained served to weaken seriously the marital tie and to imperil the virtue of the slaves. But this remark ought not to be made without recalling the fact that there were thousands and tens of thousands of happy and well-governed families among the slaves of the South.

Jasper felt seriously the blight of this untimely marriage and he seems to have remained unmarried until after he united with the church and became a preacher. In time, his thoughts turned again to marriage. He was then a member of the First African Baptist Church of Richmond. He took the letter which his wife had written him some time before and presented it to the church and asked what was his duty under the circumstances. It was a complex and vexing question, but his brethren, after soberly weighing the matter, passed a resolution expressing the conviction that it would be entirely proper for him to marry again. Accordingly, about five years after his conversion, he married a woman bearing the unusual name of Candus Jordan. According to all reports, this marriage was far more fruitful in children than in the matter of connubial peace and bliss for the high-strung and ambitious Jasper. It seems that the case must have had some revolting features, as in due time Jasper secured a divorce and was fully justified by his brethren and friends in taking this action. Evidently this separation from his wife, which was purely voluntary, in no way weakened him in the confidence and good-will of the people.

Years after his divorce, Jasper married Mrs. Mary Anne Cole. There were no children by this marriage, but his wife had a daughter by her former marriage who took the name of Jasper, and was adopted in fact and in heart as the daughter of this now eminent and beloved minister. This wife died in 1874, and Jasper married once more. His widow survived him and still lives, a worthy and honoured woman whose highest earthly joy is the recollection of having been the wife of Elder John Jasper, and also the solace and cheer of his old age. This is a checkered story of a matrimonial career, but justice loudly demands the statement that through it all John Jasper walked the lofty path of virtue and honour. It was impossible, however, for a man like Jasper to escape the arrows of the archer. Jealousy, envy, and slander were often busy with his name, and if foul charges could have befouled him none could have been fouler than he. But his daily life was a clean and unanswerable story. Reproaches would not stick to him, and the deadliest darts fell harmless at his feet. His noble seriousness, his absorption in the study of the Bible, his enthusiasm in the ministry, and, most of all, his quiet walk with God, saved him from the grosser temptations of life.

Perhaps the finest incident in all the story of his life was the perfect faith of the people in Jasper. This was true everywhere that he was known, but it was most powerfully true among those who stood nearest to him and knew him best. Jasper, to them, was the incarnation of goodness. They felt his goodness, revelled in it, and lived on it. Their best earthly inspirations sprang out of the fair and incorruptible character of their pastor. If his enemies sought to undermine and defame him, they rallied around him and fought his battles. Little cared he for the ill things said about him personally. Conscious of his rectitude, and, embosomed in the love of his great church, he walked serenely and triumphantly in the way of the Lord. He believed in the sanctity of his home, and he hallowed it by the purity, honesty, and charity of his brethren.

Anxious to get some living testimony in regard to the personal character of Jasper, I determined to get in contact with a few persons who stood very close to him, and that, for many years. In what follows is found the testimony of a truly excellent woman, to whom I was directed, with the assurance that what she said might be taken as thoroughly trustworthy. She gave her name as Virginia Adams, and, judging from her appearance and manner, one would probably write her down as not far from threescore and ten. She was for many years a member of his church. The following story from her lips is not connected, but it is simply the unmethodical testimony of a sensible woman, bearing about it the marks of sincerity, intelligence, and reverential affection.

“Brer’ Jasper was as straightfor’d a man es you cud see, and yer cud rely ’pon ev’ry word he told yer. He made it so plain dat watuver he tol’ yer in his sermon yer cud read it right thar in yer heart, jes’ like he had planted and stamped it in yer. I can’t read myse’f, but I kno’ well when anybody mek any mistake ’bout de passages which Brer Jasper used to preach ’bout. I’ve got ’em jes’ de same es if I had ’em printed on my mem’ry. His mi’ty sermon on Elijer is in me jes’ es he preached it. I kin see Elijer es Elisha is runnin’ arter him,--kin see de cheryot es it kum down, see Brer Jasper es he wuz pintin’ ter de cheryot es it riz in its grand flight up de skies,--see Elijer es he flung his mantul out es he went up, and I tell yer when Brer Jasper began ter sing ’bout goin’ up ter heaven in a cheryot uv fire I cud see everything jes’ es bright es day, and de people riz such a shout dat I thought all de wurl’ wuz shoutin’. Yes, Brer Jasper wuz de kindes’ man I reckon on de urth. Yer cudn’t finish tellin’ him ’bout folks dat wuz in trouble and want, befo’ he’d be gittin’ out his money. He didn’t look lik he keer much ’bout money,--he warn’t no money-seeker, and yit he look lik he allus hev money, and he wuz allus de fust ter give. Jes’ tell him wat wuz needed, and he begun fer to scratch in his pocket.

“Brer Jasper kep’ things lively. People wuz talkin’ all de time ’bout his sermons, and yer cud hear their argiments while yer wuz gwine ’long de streets. Often his members an’ udder folks too wud git tangled up ’bout his doctrines and dey wud git up texs an’ subjiks an’ git him ter preach ’bout ’em. Ef any uv his brutherin had trubbul wid passiges uv de scripshur and went ter him ’bout ’em, you’d sure hear frum him nex Sunday. He luv ter splain things fer his brutherin.

“It wuz Bruther Woodson, de sexton uv de church, and anudder man dat got Brer Jasper in ter dat gret ’citemint ’bout de sun. Dey got inter a spute es to wheddur de sun went ’roun’ de wurl’ ur not, and dey took it ter our pastor, and really I thought I nevur wud hear de end of dat thing. Folks got arter Brer Jasper in de papurs and everywhar; but I tell yer dey nevur skeered him. He wuz es brave es a lion, an’ I don’ kno’ how often he preached dat sermon. It look lik all de people in de wurl’ want to kum.

“No, Brer Jasper wuz no money-grabbur. When de church wuz weak and cudn’t raze much money, he nevur sot no salary. Yer cudn’t git him ter do it. He tell ’em not ter trubble ’emselves, but jes’ giv him wat dey chuze ter put in de baskit and he nevur made no kumplaint. Wen de church got richer dey crowd ’im hard ter kno’ how much he wantid, and he at las’ tell ’em dat he wud take $62.50 a month, and dat he didn’t want no more dan dat. Wen de gret crowds got ter kummin’ and de white folks too, and de money po’ed in so fas’ de brutherin farly quarl’d wid him ter git his sal’ry raz’d, but he say No! I git nuff now, and I want no more. I’m not here to gouge my people out of es much money es I kin. He say he got nuff money to pay his taxes and buy wat he needed, and if dey got more dan dey wantid let ’em take it and help de Lord’s pore. Sometimes we used ter ’poun’’ de ole man, kerryin’ ’im all kinds uv good things ter eat. He didn’t lik it at all, but tuk de things and sont ’em ’roun’ ter de pore people.

“Brer Jasper wuz nun uv yer parshul preachers. His church wuz his family, and he had no favrites. He did not bow down ter de high nor hol’ ’imsef ’bove de low. Enny uv his people cud kum ter him ’bout all dere struggles and sorrers. He hated erroneyus doctrines. His faith in de Bibul wuz powerful, and he luved it ’bove everything. He had awful dreds ’bout wat mite kum ter de church wen he wuz gone. He sometimes said in a mity solem way, ‘Wen I am daid and gone, yer will look out ter whar my ashes lay and wish I wuz back here ter ’part ter yer de pure wurd uv Gord agin. I got a fear dat dose dat kum arter me will try ter pull down wat I built up. I pray Gord, my children will stand by de ship uv Zion wen I’s gone.’

“Brer Jasper got troubles ’bout de way young childun wuz got inter de church. He say ‘all yer got ter do is to pitty-pat em (making the motion in the pulpit with his hands) on dere haids and dey are in de kingdom. Sum uv yer duz the convertin’ of dese little uns instid er leavin’ it ter God ter do de work.’ He believed in regenerashum of folks. He preach’d ter de very last on being born agin, and he didn’t want nobody ter kum inter his church wat ain’t felt de power uv de sperrit in dere souls.

“But Brer Jasper wuz a mity luver uv de childun. He had a great way of stoppin’ and talkin’ ter dem on de street. He wuz a beautiful story-teller, and de childrun often flocked ter his house ter hear ’im tell nice stories and all kine uv good tales. He kept pennies in his pockets and often dropped ’em along for de chilrun--he had great ways,--til de chilrun ud think he wuz de greatest man dat ever put foot on de yearth.

“Brer Jasper wuz sosherbul wid everybody, and nobody cud beat him as a talker. He knew lots ’bout Richmond, and de ole times, and he had de grandest stories and jokes dat he luved ter tell and dat de folks went wild ter hear. He wuz great on jokes and cracked ’em in sech a funny way dat folks most killed de ’sefs laughin’. But yer mus’ kno’ dat he wuz mity keerful ’bout how he talked. Yer neer hear no bad words frum his mouth. His stories he could tell ennywhar, and wuz jes’ as nice ter de ladies as ter der men. He didn’t b’leve in no Sercities. Dey tried ter git ’im in de Masons, and I don’t kno’ wat all, but he ain’t tech none uv’em. He sez dar ain’t but one Grand Past Master and dat is King Jesus.