Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 2, 1922 — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RED DARKNESS. The Rev. Dan Martin had risen, and was announcing a hymn. He read the first and second verses self-consciously, then in a thin, cracked barytone began to sing it. Javalie had heard neither the name nor the number of the hymn. He was intrigued by Jazzabelle’s orange shirtwaist, embroid- ered with apple green and cut indecorously low. The hymn was a pagan chant translated into terms of Christianity. Here, once more, was the moving rhythm that the-singing girl had set free. Hands and feet beat time. Shoulders swayed; heads rolled. An odor of sweat from toiling bodies gathered like mist on a swamp. Javalie’s diaphonic ears sought in the surging sound a tenor, next a bass, then a contralto: absolute harmony! Like an or- chestra of perfectly tuned instruments, or an organ. Negroes, he realized, approached closest to the spontaneous, the basic, in art. They did not have to try. The hymn ended and the service went on. Martin prayed; another hymn was sung. Javalie heard himself being introduced— “De holy man in sackcloth, lak Hezekiah, whose soul has been purified in de fires of de Lawd, sayin’, ‘Sinnehs, come unto me. Sinnehs, fo’get yo’ selfish lives and walk in de ways of the Lawd!’ ” Javalie walked slowly to the pulpit and slowly stretched out his arms with clenched fists, as if he might have been Jove pre- paring to let loose thunderbolts. His eyes blazed over the congregation and fell to the irreverent face of Jazzabelle. She was grin- ning up at him expectantly, her teeth like bands of ivory. Javalie threw back his head, flinging the long hair out of his way. He began vibrantly, on an organ note: “T am the voice of one crying in the wilderness! No man or woman, white or yellow or black, can walk in the paths of righteousness without reaping everlasting glory! ‘Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid!’ ” Round, unblinkimg eyes were fixed on him. Heads bobbed vehemently. ‘“ Ay-men!” ‘“ Have mercy, O Lawd!” ‘“No man or woman, white or yellow or black, can walk in the paths of wickedness and shame and escape the fires of hell! ‘For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap. the whirlwind!’ ” “ Tha’s. right!” “ Hm-m-m-m-mh! Oh, Lawd!” “Yea, Lawd!” ‘““T will not preach to you, my brethren. I will implore you to cast off your garments of wickedness. I will call you from the foul darkness of iniquity into the white and glorious light! What better text could I select than the first verse from the thirty- seventh chapter of Isaiah? ‘And it came to pass, when King Hezekiah heard it, that he rent his clothes, and covered himself with sackcloth, and went into the house of the Lord.’ ” “ Ay-men “Have mercy, have mercy, O Lawd!” Jazzabelle’s smile had departed. She was looking up into his blazing eyes, his flushed, inspired face, with the look of one gazing upon a rare curiosity. He flung out his arms and cried: ‘““[ say unto you, not one among you is plunged so deeply in the bloody mire of sin and degradation that cannot be cleansed. and made whiter than snow. Say in your heart, ‘I have sinned; I have wronged; I will go forth and sin no more! I will never- more wrong man or woman or _ beast. The laws of Moses will be reflected in my daily acts and attitude. I am a penitent sinner!’ ““ Can the rush grow up without mire? Can the flag grow without water?’ ‘ Re- pent ye, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord.’ ““ Ask only for forgiveness. And as you have spoken will your sins be forgiven, as if washed away in the sacred waters of the Jordan!” Javalie waited until the turbulent chorus of agreement had subsided; then, with im- ploring arms, with his long hair tossing about his head, he exhorted the sinners among them to repent, to exhibit their penitence in this place that had been set apart for that purpose. He spoke in measured periods. Soon he was conscious of an undercurrent, a rhythm 1? Gomichbooks.com