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December 24th (search for this): chapter 13
I wouldn't — not much. I knowed that Jake Hart was a mean man. But he went with three of 'em, and they heard Jake was at Tim Brown's, and they went upstairs and opened the door; and Jake, just as quiet as I am, he shoots Tom Spear dead; and then the next feller shoots Jake right through the chest, and he falls down, but he sits up again and draws a bead on number two, and down he goes, and then he shoots number three, and the fourth man he thought he'd better stay downstairs. That was Christmas Eve, and they buried all four of 'em together. Ther hain't been any shootina in town since then. Yes, Jake was a mean cuss, said Smith, but I liked him first rate. And we finished our buckwheat cakes in silence. If Garrison were alive and could visit the South to-day and read Up from slavery, The leopard's Spots and The Negro a beast, he would find sufficient reasons for congratulating himself upon his course. Slavery was a crying evil. In a thousand ways it was a disgrace to his c
Americans (search for this): chapter 13
fact as we may, a large part of the colored population of the South are our own cousins. The matter of the usual crime committed by Negroes is a frightful one and it will have to be faced, but it is very clear that it has not been faced in the right way. Lynchings, burnings at the stake-and Mr. Dixon depicts one for us — have failed to decrease the number of them. And let us remember that every civilized nation contains solitary brutes who assault and murder women, but that only white Americans still burn at the stake --and that, too, in multitudes. Savagery will not cure savagery, and the tiger cannot tame the leopard. Mr. Dixon seems to see this when he speaks of the mob as a thousandlegged beast, and anticipates with dread the time when there will be a black beast of the same kind to set off against the white beast. He thinks that the permanent display of force by the whites is the best remedy, and forgets, Christian minister though he be, that the efficacy of sympathy and
Bedford (search for this): chapter 13
tage of the proceedings good old Uncle Joe took pity upon me, and coming over to me whispered: You know who that is, don't you? I acknowledged with shame that I did not, and with a look of blank amazement, he added: Why, that's Major Bedford! as if the announcement would surely startle me. I fear that my expression was unsatisfactory to him, for there was sorrow in his tone as he explained to the benighted Yankee that Major Bedford was the biggest lawyer in West Carobama, and thaMajor Bedford was the biggest lawyer in West Carobama, and that only last month he got Hank Martin off, though everybody knew he had chucked Sam Davis into the well. By this time the Major had gone in to supper and my friends resumed their seats around the stove, while a chorus of admiration for the great lawyer filled the smoky air. When it at last subsided, one rather sullen individual who was opposite me said drily: He's a mean man, though, and then to my surprise, one by one the others nodded their heads and echoed: Yes, he is a mean ma
Tim Brown (search for this): chapter 13
, says he, Just you tell Tom Spear that I like him first rate, says he; he's done me a lot of good turns and I'd like to do him a good turn, too; but just you tell him that if he tries to grab me I'll shoot him at sight like a dog, I will, says he. Just tell him that. And I told Tom sure enough, and he got three fellers to go with him. He wanted me to go with him, but I wouldn't — not much. I knowed that Jake Hart was a mean man. But he went with three of 'em, and they heard Jake was at Tim Brown's, and they went upstairs and opened the door; and Jake, just as quiet as I am, he shoots Tom Spear dead; and then the next feller shoots Jake right through the chest, and he falls down, but he sits up again and draws a bead on number two, and down he goes, and then he shoots number three, and the fourth man he thought he'd better stay downstairs. That was Christmas Eve, and they buried all four of 'em together. Ther hain't been any shootina in town since then. Yes, Jake was a mean cu
Pete Bunker (search for this): chapter 13
eared in the distance, and three or four times back it came, until I was in despair. But once again it was slowly blown away, Waitah! Waitah! Waitah! and I heard it no more. It was nearly nine o'clock when I came in to breakfast in the morning and took my seat at a table occupied by two drummers, who were conversing with each other. Tol'able lively night, remarked one of them, whom I shall call Smith. Yes, said I. Who on earth was that man, and what ever became of him? It's Pete Bunker, replied the man. Don't you know Pete? Why, the Bunkers are one of the best families in these parts. The cook found him in the kitchen this morning sitting at the table fast asleep with his head on his arms. He came out of his room for something or other, and couldn't find it again. But Pete don't often get drunk like that. He's a good fellow when he's sober. He's a mean man, though, sometimes, said the other. Do you remember how he shot that nigger Simpson? That was six years
Jesus Christ (search for this): chapter 13
on, but in the spirit of self-improvement and honor. He must put down himself the crimes against women which are his shame, and I have faith that men like Booker Washington can set such a movement on foot. The white clergy of the South have a tremendous responsibility. They have an influence far transcending that of their colleagues in the North. Will they use it like Mr. Dixon and the ministers he creates in his book, to foment misunderstandings and distrust, or to infuse the spirit of Christ into the problem? It is surely discouraging to find the Episcopal bishop of Arkansas, an Ohioan, publicly defending the practice of lynching. We all admit now that the policy of reconstruction was a sad mistake and that Northern interference can do little, but it is still possible to begin a new work of reconstruction based upon human sympathy. If the South will undertake this task, it will escape the battle of the beasts which is otherwise inevitable. Swedenborg somewhere says that the
Christmas (search for this): chapter 13
hough, sometimes, said the other. Do you remember how he shot that nigger Simpson? That was six years ago, and the boy can't walk to-day. He done for him, he did. And Simpson hadn't done nothina, either. Did they try him for it? I asked. Naw, was the reply, and the two men looked at me in wonder. I reckon he left his gun in his room last night, said Smith. It was pretty lucky. But there hain't been any shootina in town lately. When was the last shootina, Dave? A year ago Christmas, answered Dave. That Jake Hart scrimmage. You remember. Jake got angry at Cy Jones and shot him dead. Jake was an awful nice fellow, but I must say he was a mean one. And then Tom Spear-he was sheriff-he said he'd arrest him if it took him ten years, and Jake, he said he shouldn't. I met Jake in the street one day, and he says to me, says he, Just you tell Tom Spear that I like him first rate, says he; he's done me a lot of good turns and I'd like to do him a good turn, too; but just
Sam Davis (search for this): chapter 13
whispered: You know who that is, don't you? I acknowledged with shame that I did not, and with a look of blank amazement, he added: Why, that's Major Bedford! as if the announcement would surely startle me. I fear that my expression was unsatisfactory to him, for there was sorrow in his tone as he explained to the benighted Yankee that Major Bedford was the biggest lawyer in West Carobama, and that only last month he got Hank Martin off, though everybody knew he had chucked Sam Davis into the well. By this time the Major had gone in to supper and my friends resumed their seats around the stove, while a chorus of admiration for the great lawyer filled the smoky air. When it at last subsided, one rather sullen individual who was opposite me said drily: He's a mean man, though, and then to my surprise, one by one the others nodded their heads and echoed: Yes, he is a mean man. I could not account for this apparent change of opinion, and I ventured to ask
Thomas Dixon (search for this): chapter 13
han the black man's wisdom. It is The leopard's Spots, by the Rev. Thomas Dixon, a shining light in the Southern Baptist Church; and it temt of the tiger rather than in that of the Christian minister that Mr. Dixon treats the delicate issues of the race question which is the subjbeen faced in the right way. Lynchings, burnings at the stake-and Mr. Dixon depicts one for us — have failed to decrease the number of them. will not cure savagery, and the tiger cannot tame the leopard. Mr. Dixon seems to see this when he speaks of the mob as a thousandlegged bn shows far more of this than the author of The leopard's Spots. Mr. Dixon may not know it, but he seems to believe in a gospel of hate. Ononce beaten to death. Surely this is the spirit of the tiger. Mr. Dixon's ideal Negro is the old plantation servant who despises his own ing that of their colleagues in the North. Will they use it like Mr. Dixon and the ministers he creates in his book, to foment misunderstan
Eden (search for this): chapter 13
There must be some mistake. The book was printed in the year of Our Lord Igoo! And in one of the greatest cities of the South, too! And what do you suppose is the name of the publishing company which issues this precious work? It is called the American book and Bible house! I turned over the pages of the book. It was an illiterate medley of folly and superstition-an attempt to prove by Scripture that the Negro was not the descendant of Ham, and to show that the serpent in the garden of Eden was a black man! It was just such a book as, if it had been produced by a Negro, would almost have justified despair for his race. It is not remarkable perhaps that a single lunatic should have written such a book, but that a publisher should have been found for it, that commercial success should have been expected from it, that people should buy it and lay it on their Bibles and leave it on their tables to insult the black men who saw it, and astound the white-all this was incredible. I
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