OLD-TIME ILLITERATE PREACHERS IN THE BRUSH.
I have very often thought that the best work that could possibly
be prepared in favor of an educated ministry, would be to send
stenographers through those States where the census reveals the
greatest amount of ignorance, to make _verbatim_ reports of sermons
that are actually preached, and publish them in a volume. Such a book
would be the most remarkable exhibition of ignorance ever printed. Any
one who has not traveled extensively will be astonished to learn of
the great number of altogether unlearned and ignorant preachers who
minister regularly to large congregations. I have found that the deeper
I got into the Brush, and the denser the ignorance of the people, the
greater was the number of preachers. I have seen a surprisingly large
number of people who knew very little of the world, and a great deal
less of books, to whom the honors of a preacher were very attractive.
I say "honors," for the emoluments were so small that they had very
little weight in the matter. I have known them to urge their own
claims, and "electioneer" with others for years, and with the greatest
pertinacity, in order to secure licensure and ordination. Some of them
could not read at all, and many could read a verse or chapter only with
the greatest difficulty, and miscalled a large number of the longer
words.
I penetrated a wild region among the hills, and my own observations and
the explorations that I caused to be made secured for it the undoubted
and undesirable preëminence of being the banner county for ignorance
and destitution of the Bible of all those that I visited. In some
manner that I do not now remember, on my first visit I was directed
to call upon one of the preachers of the county, who would coöperate
with me in making arrangements to have it canvassed and supplied with
the Bible. I found his house among the hills in the midst of a vast,
dense forest, surrounded by a small clearing or "dead'ning," which
was planted with corn and tobacco. He was rather a short, thick-set
man, with a powerful, muscular frame, and very quick and active in
his movements. On riding up and introducing myself, he gave me a very
cordial welcome to his home. It was a log-house, rather larger and
higher than was usual in the region; but it was without chambers, and
from floor to roof all was a single room. His family, including wife,
mother-in-law, and children, numbered an even dozen. I spent the night
with them, partaking of such food, using such knife, fork, and dishes,
and occupying, with others, such a bed as I can not well describe, and
I am sure my readers will not be able to imagine. But I had by this
time become so accustomed to this kind of life in the Brush, that, if
not pleasant and agreeable to me, it was at least not strange. Not long
before, in a similarly wild region, in an adjoining county, I had slept
in a much smaller cabin with one room, where the man and his wife and
mother-in-law and four children, with another visitor besides myself,
occupied three beds. I shared one of them, upon a very narrow bedstead,
with the visitor, a neighbor who had called in for a social visit, as
rough and tough-looking a long-haired backwoodsman as one often meets,
dressed in butternut; and a "chunk of a boy," as his father called him,
about a dozen years old, who was placed in the bed between us, with his
head at our feet, and _ex necessitate_ his feet not far from my head.
It is a kind of lodging that can be endured for a night, as I know from
positive experience. But I am not prepared to recommend it.
When I arrived at this house, which was about dinner-time, I found
the children parching corn in a spider. The father was absent, and it
was necessary for me to remain until he returned. The mother made no
movements toward getting dinner, and said nothing about it, which was a
very unusual thing in my experience. At length the children brought to
me some of the corn, which was parched brown, but not popped. I had by
this time become satisfied that this was to be their only dinner, and
ate some of it with them. The father returned in a few hours, and urged
me to spend the night with them, which in the circumstances I was glad
to do; I could easily have gone farther and fared worse. He soon took
a bag and went through the woods a mile or two to a neighbor's, and
returned with some corn-meal and a piece of bacon. The entirely empty
larder being thus replenished, a meal was soon cooked, and I sat down
to what was to me both a dinner and supper of corn-dodger and fried
bacon. I called upon some of the families in this neighborhood, and
some months after met one of the young ladies at the county-seat. In
talking with her in regard to this visit, I said:
"I was told that a number of the young women in your neighborhood can
not read."
"Oh!" said she, "there are but two there that can read."
And yet I was told that there were two or three resident preachers
there, but I had not time to call upon them. As the kind of food
and lodging that I have described were so common to me, the chief
"variety" that was the "spice" of my itinerant "life" was in the varied
characters that I met. And I rarely found this "spice" of intenser
flavor than in my own profession, among some of the preachers that I
found in the Brush. The one that I had sought out, and with whose
family I had spent the night, was one of the most remarkable of his
type with whom I became acquainted.
In the morning he mounted his horse and rode with me to visit and
confer with several of the leading citizens of the county in regard to
its exploration, and to spend the following day, which was the Sabbath,
in visiting two different and distant congregations, for the purpose of
presenting the matter to them, and "lifting collections" in its aid. We
rode several miles through the woods, only occasionally passing a small
cabin and clearing, and made our first call at a log-house, where my
clerical friend and guide was evidently a very great favorite. Here we
were urged to have our horses put in the stable, and remain to dinner.
We assented to this, and arrangements were at once made for convening
a Bible committee, at a house in the neighborhood, that afternoon, and
for religious services in the house at which we had stopped to dine
that night. The husband and children at once started out to circulate
these notices, and the wife began her preparations for our dinner.
She was apparently about thirty years old, above the medium size,
in a region of country where the most of the women were very large,
with a bright, pleasant face, a cheerful, happy disposition, and very
cordial and enthusiastic manners. The log-house, though not of the
best, was decidedly of the better class; and our dinner, both in its
quality and the manner in which it was served, was a great improvement
upon my breakfast, and the supper the night before. It was a happy
group. Conversation was cheerful and animated, and geniality and joy
glowed in all faces and pervaded all hearts. Some time after dinner I
started with my clerical friend on foot through the woods to meet the
Bible committee. After a pleasant interchange of views, we appointed a
colporteur to canvass the county, and adjourned. At once we received
earnest invitations from different ones to go home with them to supper.
They were unwilling that the family upon which we had first called
should monopolize the pleasure and honor of entertaining us. I left
my clerical friend to settle this matter, and we went a mile or two
in another direction, where we were hospitably entertained at supper.
We then returned to the house where we had dined, and it was soon
filled with people, who had assembled upon this brief notice. It was
arranged that instead of a sermon a chapter should be read, and each of
us should occupy a portion of the time in brief addresses. My friend
read the chapter. I was astonished. I had never heard the like at any
public religious service. Many of the words were mispronounced and
entirely miscalled, and it would have been difficult to understand what
was meant, from his reading of the passage. But both his reading and
remarks were very well received, and I saw no one who seemed to notice
that there was anything out of the way with either. I followed him with
some remarks, and the meeting seemed to be greatly enjoyed by all. Then
began a very spirited contest as to where we should go and spend the
night. There were many claimants for the honor.
"You must go home with me," said one.
"No," said another, "you had Brother A---- when he was here, and you
can't have these preachers. They must go with me."
"No," said still another, "you've had the preachers a heap of times
since I have. I hain't had nary one in a long time, and they must go
hum and stay with me."
For myself, wearied as I was with the varied labors of the day, I
should have greatly preferred remaining with the family where I was.
But I left the matter for them to decide, and we soon started out, and
taking a footpath through the underbrush, among the large forest-trees,
we went in the darkness a mile or two, to an entirely new cabin. The
logs had been peeled, and it looked very clean and nice. A large fire
was soon blazing upon a hearth made of fresh earth, and roaring up a
chimney made of split sticks covered with mud. It was the home of a
young couple, who had but recently married and commenced housekeeping.
There were two beds in the room. We sat before the bright fire and
talked for some time, until I told them how weary I was, and they
pointed out the bed which the preacher and I were to occupy. The room
was new and bright, and the sense of cleanliness was most grateful
to my feelings. I thought that in that new house I should enjoy that
rare luxury in the cabins in the Brush, a nice, untenanted bed and
a pleasant sleep. As I turned down the blankets and moved my pillow
to adjust it, I saw what I at first thought was a drop of molasses
dried on the sheet. I impulsively moved my finger toward the spot
to ascertain what it was, and it ran! My pleasant dreams were all
banished, and I plunged in, in desperation, to share my bed with
such company as for months and years I had found in so many of the
log-houses in the Brush. The mild climate and the habits of the people
conspired to make the beds quite too populous and repulsive to be
described.
Though my meals were often such that only necessity compelled me to
partake of them, yet the want of beds fit to be occupied by a human
being, after my long, hard days' rides, was by far the greatest of
all my privations and trials in the Brush. If I were to describe all
that I have seen and endured in this matter, it would not only be
very unpleasant and repulsive reading, but would surpass belief with
all those not personally familiar with the country and the people
described.
After breakfast the next morning we walked back to the house where we
had first called and left our horses, and sat with the family until it
was time to leave for church. As we sat together, my clerical friend,
who was of an inquiring mind, turned to me and said, "How do you preach
the first seven verses of the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes?"
I must here say that, in common with the great majority of his class,
he used the word "preach" in the sense of "explain." My friend the
Rev. Dr. S.H. Tyng, of New York, once told me that while preaching in
a Southern State, in the early part of his ministry, a preacher of
this class made him a visit. Seeing a pile of manuscripts upon his
study-table, he inquired what they were, and was told that they were
sermons.
"Why!" said he, in astonishment, "how many texts can you preach?"
These men were accustomed to "study" a passage in their manner, and
form some opinions in regard to its meaning, and then they "preached"
(explained) it on all occasions, with the most positive assurance
in regard to the correctness of their views. Hence, when my friend
asked me how I "preached" the passage alluded to, he wished from me a
full exposition. Taking a Bible from the mantel-piece above the large
fireplace, he turned to the chapter and read the first verse, as he had
read the night before, and said to me, "How do you preach that?"
I gave my views of the passage in as few words as possible, and then he
proceeded at much greater length to tell how he "preached" it.
As he concluded, the good sister, who had listened with face all aglow
with delight, exclaimed: "Ah! Brother P---- has studied _that_!"
In this manner he read, and we gave our views of each of the seven
verses.
His "preach" was in each case much longer than mine, and invariably
drew from the attentively listening sister the fervent expression of
rapt admiration and delight: "Ah! Brother P---- has studied _that_!"
I am sorry that I can not tell my readers how he "preached" the entire
passage; but it was so utterly strange, and so entirely unlike anything
I had ever conceived of as possible to be said in explanation of
this or any other passage of Scripture, that I confess I was obliged
to exert myself to the utmost to maintain the gravity becoming my
position. If I had smiled, I should have given great offense to the
delighted sister, for no enthusiastic lady that I ever saw was more
proud of her pastor than she was of her preacher at that moment. So
earnest were my efforts to maintain my dignity, and not dishonor my
exalted position as an agent of the American Bible Society, that I
could not afterward recall his explanations but of two of the passages.
I will give but one of them: "'Or ever the silver cord be loosed.' The
doctors say that there is a cord that runs from the nape of the neck,
down the backbone, through the small of the back, into the heart, right
thar; and that when a man dies that cord always snaps: that is the
silver cord loosed."(!)
"Ah!" said the sister, her face radiant with delight, "Brother P----
has studied _that_!"
I will only add that this is a fair illustration of his explanations of
all the other verses. If I might moralize upon this subject, I would
repeat the opening sentence of this chapter: "I have very often thought
that the best work that could possibly be prepared in favor of an
educated ministry, would be to send stenographers throughout the Brush,
to make _verbatim_ reports of sermons that are actually preached, and
publish them in a volume." Soon after this exposition, we mounted our
horses and attended services at two different appointments, Brother
P---- preaching at one of them. About a year after this I saw him
regularly ordained to the full work of a minister of the gospel.
There are books containing "plans" or "skeletons" of sermons, and some
clergymen are said to make free use of them in the preparation of their
sermons. I will give one which may aid some limping preacher who needs
such helps, and hereby offer it as a contribution to the next volume of
skeleton sermons that may be compiled. The sermon was preached to quite
a large congregation in a grove, where I was present and occupied the
"stand" with the preacher. His text was Job xxvi, 14: "Lo, these are
parts of his ways: but how little a portion is heard of him? but the
thunder of his power who can understand?" After an introduction that
was quite as appropriate to any other verse in the Bible as to this,
the preacher said:
"In further discoursing upon this passage, I shall, in the first place,
review the chapter, and show what is meant by the word 'these.' I
shall, in the second place, mention some of the works of God. I shall,
in the third place, conclude, according to circumstances, light and
liberty being given."
I must say to my readers, in explanation of his "third place," that
the "plan" and effort in sermons, addresses to juries, political and
all other speeches in the Southwest, was to wind up with as grand and
stirring a conclusion as possible. Here the congregation was to be
deeply moved, the jury to be melted, and the crowd to demonstrate by
their applause how they would vote. These perorations often reminded
me of the manner in which the stage-coaches of the olden time used
to drive into my native village, in the days of my boyhood; when the
driver cracked his long whip, blew stirring blasts from his tin horn,
and his four horses rushed up to the village tavern on the jump, his
noisy demonstrations startling all the villagers. It was so with these
sermons and speeches. However lame and limping in their progress, there
was always, if possible, a rousing conclusion, a demonstrative drive
into town. Hence, my clerical friend did not wish to embarrass himself
by announcing definitely what he would say in his conclusion; but left
himself free to soar and roar "according to circumstances, light and
liberty being given." He went through with his sermon according to his
"plan," but his conclusion did not arouse and move his audience like
many that I have heard.
I have already spoken of the genial friend to whom I sold my faithful
horse, and of the accounts that he gave me of the preachers he had
known and the preaching he had heard. He told me that upon one occasion
he heard the funeral sermon of a child preached from the text, "Write,
Blessed are the dead," etc. The preacher was so ignorant in regard to
spelling that he supposed the "write" in the text was "right," not
wrong, and he endeavored to comfort the parents by showing them that it
was "right" that people should suffer affliction, "right" that their
children should sicken and die, and that all the Lord's dealings with
his people were "right."
On another occasion he attended a meeting where a number of ministers
were present, and the opening sermon was preached by an old
acquaintance and friend, who owned a good plantation, a number of
slaves, and for many years preached regularly on alternate Sabbaths
to two quite large congregations. There are many thousands of people
who rarely, if ever, hear a sermon from an educated minister.
These people have strong and well-defined notions as to the kind of
preaching that suits them. If the preacher ranges extensively over
the Bible, and quotes a great deal of Scripture without any regard
to its appropriateness or connection with the text, they say of him
approvingly: "He's a Scripter preacher. He's not a larnt man, but he's
a real Scripter preacher." Hence, many of these preachers range over
both the Old and New Testaments in every sermon, and quote as much as
they can, with as little connection as a page in the dictionary.
The preacher on this occasion took for his text the words: "The name
of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is
safe." He described these towers as places of safety, ranged through
the Old Testament, and, coming down to the New, said: "The world
was then in an awful condition; there were no towers, no places of
safety! The whole generation was without a tower! You may say: 'How
do you know this is so? You haven't much learning. You haven't read
many histories.' Ah! but I've got Scripter for it. I don't want any
histories when I've got the Bible for it. Here it is. Peter, preaching
to them on the day of Pentecost, said, 'Save yourselves from this
untowered generation.'"
After the meeting "broke," and they mounted their horses to ride to
dinner, my old friend said to the preacher:
"Why, Brother Mansfield, you made a great mistake in your sermon this
morning."
"Mistake!" said he, "what was it, Brother Roach?"
"Why, that about the 'untowered generation.' It is not untowered,"
said he; "it is untoward. It is, 'Save yourselves from this untoward
generation.'"
The preacher dropped his head, thought a moment, and then said:
"There can't be any mistake about that. Why, I've preached it that way
more than a dozen times."
When they reached the house where they were to dine, they found a
dictionary, and that was appealed to to settle the matter. Alas, that
the verdict spoiled a favorite sermon!
I was about as much astonished at the facts I heard in regard to the
salaries that were paid to these preachers, with all the formalities of
a regular contract, as at anything I ever learned in regard to their
preaching. I once occupied the pulpit with one of them, in a church
which was a large, barn-like brick structure, having four doors, one
near each corner, for the ingress and egress of the congregation.
This preacher was a great favorite in the region, with both the white
and colored people, and was familiarly known as "Jimmy B----." He had
stentorian lungs, was wonderfully voluble, and his sing-song "holy
tone" was most delightful to his audience. It was a warm summer day,
and the house was packed with whites dressed in butternut jeans, and
groups of colored people were standing outside near each open window.
It was a monthly service, and all seemed to enjoy it greatly.
In the afternoon, after the custom of the Southwest, he preached to
the "servants," and I again occupied a seat in the pulpit with him.
His colored audience was moved by his stentorian voice and avalanche
of words to the extremest excitement and joy. At the conclusion of his
sermon they could not separate without singing some of their "breaking"
songs, and all marching by the pulpit and shaking hands with the
preachers. This hand-shaking was one of the most marked features of
their religious services, and these "breaking" or parting exercises
have afforded me the opportunity of hearing the grandest, wildest, most
beautiful and genuine African melodies to which I have ever listened.
As I was a "visiting brother," I was entitled to as warm and cordial
a greeting as the one who had preached. The leader commenced a hymn
familiar to the large audience, and they began to sing and move in
procession by the low pulpit where we were standing, shaking hands with
each of us as they passed. As the long procession filed by, their dark
faces shining with delight, the music arose louder, wilder, and more
exciting, until they seemed entirely unconscious of the strength of the
grip they gave my poor, suffering hand. I was unwilling to mar their
joy by withdrawing it altogether, and, to save it from being utterly
crushed, I resorted to the expedient of suddenly clutching the end
of the fingers of each hand that was extended to me by the excited
and happy singers, and so they were unable to give me their vise-like
squeeze, and I escaped comparatively unharmed. The hand-shaking ended,
the meeting "broke," and they all dispersed, masters and slaves highly
delighted with the preacher and all the services of the day.
My host upon this occasion was the hotel-keeper of the place. In
talking with him about the great popularity of this preacher, he said
that, if equally extended notice should be given that he would preach
there on one Sabbath, and the Rev. Dr. Young, the learned and eloquent
President of the college at Danville, would preach there on another,
Jimmy B---- would call together the largest audience. At another place,
when quite a number of persons were present, reference was made to the
salary that was received by this popular favorite. I made particular
inquiries upon this subject, and learned that the church negotiated
with him to preach for them one Sabbath each month during the year, for
one dollar a Sabbath. Hence, they paid him twelve dollars a year for
one fourth of his time. Some of them thought that as neither he nor any
other good hand could at that time get more than fifty cents a day for
mauling rails, hoeing corn, or any other labor, this salary was rather
excessive; but in consideration of the fact that he had to leave home
on Saturday evening in order to meet his appointment, and furnish his
own riding-nag, they magnanimously voted him the full dollar a Sunday,
"for one fourth of his time." I was informed that he preached to other
churches, but did not learn that any of them paid him a larger salary.
In another place that I visited, the Rev. James L---- had preached to
the same church twenty-one years, and he said the largest sum he had
ever received for preaching in any one year was twenty dollars, and he
had often received less than ten dollars! Very many of these churches
were entirely satisfied if they had regular preaching once a month.
In riding through the Brush, I used often to gratify my curiosity
by making inquiries in regard to the salaries received by those who
preached in the churches that I passed. Once, in riding late in the
evening, I overtook--or, in the vernacular of the region, "met up
with"--a boy some twelve or fourteen years old, who was riding a mule.
After exchanging "howd'ys," I found him very loquacious, and disposed
to enlighten me in regard to everything in the neighborhood. I asked
him what salary they paid their preacher. "Oh!" said he, "they pay the
one they have got now right smart. They give him a dollar and a half a
Sunday."
We passed a church where the members washed one another's feet at each
communion. I made some inquiries in regard to the ceremony, and he told
me the brethren washed only the brethren's feet, and the sisters the
sisters' feet. I told him that I supposed they only sprinkled water
upon their feet--they did not wash much. "Oh!" said he, "sometimes
they gets happy, and washes right hard." I had spent a Sabbath at a
meeting in the woods with the poet of this denomination, and purchased
of him a hymn-book that he had been duly authorized to compile and
publish for them, containing some hymns that he had written to be sung
at these feet-washing services. He was one of the most illiterate men
I ever met. I regret to say that I have lost the book, and can not
transcribe some of these original hymns for the benefit of my readers.
I had a good deal of conversation with this "poet," and he told me he
was at the time engaged in teaching school. I afterward met the school
commissioner, a lawyer, at the county-seat, who had examined him and
given him his license to teach, and rallied him jocosely for giving a
man that was so ignorant, authority to teach a public school.
"Oh!" said he, "I only certified that he was competent to teach _in
that neighborhood_."
For years I was accustomed to avail myself of every opportunity of
hearing these illiterate preachers, both white and colored, consistent
with my other duties. It was a new and interesting study to me.
Sometimes I got rare kernels of wheat in the midst of a great deal of
chaff, rich nuggets of gold among a great deal of sand and rubbish;
and I always felt more than repaid for the time thus expended. It
was interesting to observe the workings of minds, often of superior
natural powers, in their attempts to elucidate the Scriptures. It
was especially strange to hear them render any Scripture narrative,
entirely in their own Brush vernacular. I have often regretted that I
did not take down many of these narratives of Bible facts at the time
I heard them. But the unusual sight of a person thus employed in a
congregation would attract more attention than the preacher himself,
and I was therefore unwilling to do it. But I can give my readers a
very correct idea of these narratives.
In riding through a very rough, wild region, I fell in company with a
gentleman on horseback, and rode some distance with him. He told me
that a preacher, who was so illiterate that it was with the greatest
difficulty that he could study out a chapter in the Bible, sometimes
preached in a log school-house in his neighborhood, and he had heard
him the Sabbath before. It was in a region where a rough-and-tumble
fight would attract more attention than anything else. The preacher
had a theme of the deepest interest to himself and the most of his
congregation. This gentleman gave me quite a full outline of the
discourse, and I write it out from his description, and fill it up as
my extended acquaintance with these people, and knowledge of their
vernacular, derived from years of constant mingling with them, enable
me to do.
"Last week, my breethrin, as I was a-readin' my Bible, I found a story
of a big fight (1 Samuel, xvii). It was powerful interestin', and I
studied it 'most all the week. There was two armies campin' on two
mountains right fornenst each other; and a holler and, I reckon, some
good bottom-land and a medder-lot lying between 'em. In one of the
armies there was a big feller--a whoppin', great, big feller--and every
day he went down into the medder-lot and looked up the hill to t'other
camp, and jest dared 'em! He told 'em to pick their best man and send
him down, and he'd fight him. And he jest strutted around there in
his soger-close, and waited for 'em to send on their man. And such
soger-close I never heerd tell on afore. He had a brass cap and brass
trousers, and a coat made like mail-bags where they are all ironed and
riveted together. But the fellers in t'other camp just clean flunked.
They darn't fight the big feller, nary one of 'em. They jest all
sneaked away, and the big feller he went back to camp. But he didn't
quit thar, the big feller didn't. He was spilin' for a fight, and he
was bound to have it. He jest went down into the bottom-land, into the
medder-lot, every day, mornin' and evenin', and dared 'em and dared
'em. I tell you he did pester 'em mightily. The old feller, Saul, the
gineral, he felt more chawed up and meaner than the sogers, and, when
he couldn't stan' it no longer, he told the boys if any of 'em would
go down and lick that big feller he'd give him his gal, and a right
smart chance of plunder. But they was all so skeer'd that even that
didn't start one of 'em. The big feller went down and dared 'em and
pestered 'em more'n a month--forty days, the Bible says. I don't know
what they'd a-done if it hadn't a-be'n that a peart little feller had
come down to camp one day to fetch some extra rations to his three big
brothers that their old dad had sent to 'em from home. Kind old pap
he was, and sharp, too, for he sent along a big present to the boys'
cap'en. Well, jest as little brother drove up, they was all gwine out
to fight, and the little feller left his traps with the driver, legged
it after the sogers, and told his big brothers howd'y. Right thar the
old big feller come out and dared 'em agin, and they was all so skeer'd
that they jest run like mad. The little feller heerd him, and then went
back into camp and heerd all the sogers talking about him, and what
the old gineral would give to have him licked. He asked 'em a heap of
questions about it all, and big brother he got mad at him, and twitted
him about keeping sheep, and give him a right smart of sass. He was
plucky, but you see he had to stan' it, 'cause 'twas big brother. Big
brothers are mighty mean sometimes.
"But the little feller talked a heap with the other sogers, and they
told the old gineral about him, and he told them to tell the little
feller to come and see him. The little feller was mighty plucky, and
he jest up and told the old Gineral Saul that _he'd fight the big
feller_! The gineral looked at the handsome little feller--he was raal
handsome--and ses he, kinder softly, I reckon, and shakin' his head:
'It's too big a job; you're only a chunk of a boy, and he's an old
fighter.' The little feller spunked up and told the old gineral that
he'd had one b'ar-fight, and he'd killed the b'ar. He said there was an
old lion and a b'ar got among his dad's sheep, and was gwine off with a
lamb. He broke for 'im, and as soon as he met up with the old b'ar he
lamm'd him, till the b'ar turned on him for a hug; but he got one hand
into the long ha'r, under his jaw, and he lamm'd him with the other
till he was dead. He'd killed the lion and the b'ar, and he know'd he
was enough for the old big feller.
"Then the little feller talked raal religious to the old gineral. You
see he'd got religion afore that, and he know'd that the Lord would
help a feller, if he was all right, and got in a tight place. He told
Gineral Saul that the Lord had made him mighty supple, and looked out
for him when the old lion and b'ar tried to get their paws into him;
and he knew he'd see him through the fight with the old big feller; for
_he_ was jest darin' 'em and pesterin' 'em to make game of religion.
When the old gineral seed he was so plucky, _and_ religious too, he
know'd them's the kind that fit powerful, and he told him to go in, and
he made a little pra'r for him hisself. Then the old gineral put his
own soger-close on the little feller, and strapped his sword on to him.
But they was all a heap too big, and he shucked 'em off d'rectly, and
made for a dry branch down in the bottom. There he hunted five little
rocks, smooth as a hen-egg, put 'em in a little bag where he carried
his snack when he was a-tendin' the sheep, got his sling fixed all
right, and hurried up to meet the old big feller in the medder-lot.
When he seed him comin' he was powerful mad they'd sent down such a
little feller, and jawed awful. But the little feller jest talked back
religious, and kept his eye peeled. And I _reckon_ the big feller
couldn't a be'n a lookin'. I've studied a heap on it, and I jest know
the big feller couldn't a-be'n a-lookin'; for the little feller got out
his sling, and drew away, and shied a little rock at him, and he popped
him, and down he tumbled. Then the little feller rushed up and mounted
on him, jest as an old hunter loves to get on a b'ar after he's shot
him; and he out with the big feller's long sword and off with his head.
Then it was them Philistine sinners' turn to be skeer'd, and they broke
for the brush; and all them chil'en of Israel fellers jest shouted and
chased 'em clean over the mountain into a valley, and then com'd back
and got all their camp-plunder.
"My breethrin, that's the best story of a fight I ever read after; and
you can't buy no better story-book than this 'ere Bible."
If the facts presented in this chapter make a draft on the credence of
any of my readers that they find it difficult to honor, I respectfully
commend to them the study of the late United States census, especially
its portrayal of the illiteracy of the late slave States. The figures
are as humiliating as they are startling. They seem at length to be
forcing themselves upon the attention of the President, Congress, and
the country. But no figures can ever make any such impression as the
actual personal contact I have had with thousands of these people in
their own homes, since the commencement of my labors among them in 1843.
But my account of "Old-Time Illiterate Preachers in the Southwest"
would be very incomplete if it did not include some of the notable
NEGRO PREACHERS OF THE OLD RÉGIME.
I used to take great interest in hearing them preach, and availed
myself of every possible opportunity to do so, consistent with my
duties. Many of these preachers were very devout and godly men. They
had good judgment, strong native sense, and exerted a great influence
over the slaves, which was highly appreciated by their masters. They
also gratified in a measure the religious instincts of the slaves, by
officiating at their weddings and funerals.
One of the largest, most orderly, and impressive funeral processions
that I have ever witnessed, was that of an old negro preacher at
Lexington, Kentucky, who had been the pastor of a large colored church
in that city for many years. It was upon a Sabbath afternoon, during a
meeting of the Synod of Kentucky, which I was attending. Hundreds of
slaves came in from the surrounding country, and it was estimated that
there were from two to three thousand in the procession. Nearly every
family-carriage in the city and the surrounding country was in the
line, occupied by the "family servants." These carriages were sent by
the owners, as their tribute to the old preacher for his great and good
influence over their slaves. The most of the men marched some four or
six abreast, with slow and solemn tread, and that silent awe to which
their natures are so susceptible in the presence of death.
I knew another negro preacher, and often heard him address his people,
for whom I had the profoundest respect. He was a devout and saintly
man, and his dignified port and bearing were those of a born gentleman.
He was often engaged the whole week "attending masons." I have often
met him as he was driving a horse, sitting upon a wagon-load of mortar,
thoroughly bespattered, and received from him a bow so easy, dignified,
and graceful, that many a Governor and Congressman that I have known
might well covet his distinguished bearing.
Upon one occasion I heard him preach a sermon to his congregation,
enforcing the duty of keeping their hearts pure and free from all
evil thoughts, when he abruptly broke forth: "But you say, 'I can't,
I can't. These bad thoughts come to me, and I can't help it.' I know
you can't help it," said he, "and I know, too, that you can't help the
birds dying over your heads; but you can help their building nests in
your ha'r" (hair).
The public political, theological, and other discussions, that I
have already described in this volume, developed a love of religious
controversy in the Southwest such as I have never known among any other
people.
The negroes were echoes and imitators of the whites in this respect
as in others. Morning services were for the white congregations, but
slaves usually attended them, often in large numbers. The afternoons
were mostly given up to the colored people, and they were free to
attend religious services, whether they were ministered to by white
or negro preachers. If there was a public discussion, or any special
interest or excitement upon any subject at the morning service, that
was almost certain to be the theme of the negro preacher's discourse to
his afternoon audience.
The overwhelming majority of colored church-members were either
Baptists or Methodists. The differences of these churches in doctrinal
belief were the theme of almost endless controversy between the colored
champions and defenders of these opposing creeds.
Some of these discussions were original and spicy, beyond anything I
have ever heard of in the line of theological controversy. I will give
a few characteristic illustrations.
I had preached in the morning at a small county-seat village, and
after dinner set out, with a venerable and estimable Methodist "local
preacher," to attend his afternoon appointment. After a ride of several
miles, we reached the brow of a very deep and narrow ravine, which we
were to cross. At the moment of our arrival a venerable, gray-haired
black man, mounted upon a fine horse, appeared upon the opposite brow.
At the first sight of him I turned to my companion and said:
"That must be a brother preacher."
"Oh, yes," said he, "he is a very distinguished preacher. He is the
champion and defender of the Methodist Church among the colored people
in all this region. He is an old and favorite family servant, and his
master, who is a graduate of West Point, allows him to use that fine
horse in going to his afternoon appointments."
As we passed him, he returned "the bow professional" with a dignity and
a Methodistic swing that would have done honor to such old itinerants
as Bishop Asbury and Bishop Soule. Such was my first acquaintance with
the Rev. Nathan Board, whose controversial exploits I am about to
relate. As we rode on, my friend informed me that upon one occasion,
when Nathan was present at a Baptist church at a communion, the
preacher, in giving the reason why they did not invite those of other
denominations who were present to commune with them, said:
"We are not alone and singular in the fact that we do not invite you
all to commune with us. Presbyterians fence the tables. Methodists
fence the tables. All other denominations fence the tables. They do
not allow anybody and everybody to commune with them. We all fence the
tables. The only difference is, that the Baptist fence is a little
higher than any of the others."
In the afternoon Nathan preached to his people, and as some of them had
been present in the morning and heard this address, he had to answer it
for their benefit. After repeating the whole address, he said:
"Now, my bruddren, I'd rather have a low fence and a tight one, than a
high fence and a good many holes in it."
As these Baptists were of the anti-mission class, who opposed an
educated and paid ministry, Sabbath-schools, Bible societies, and all
mission enterprises, but favored good Bourbon, Nathan's reply was
regarded as decidedly personal, and some of them thought he ought to be
"whooped" (whipped) for his impudence.
A few weeks after this I reached a county-seat village upon the Ohio
River, and learned that it had recently been the theatre of a very
exciting theological controversy among the slaves.
A colored Baptist preacher, of great reputation among his brethren
for boldness and polemical skill as the champion and defender of his
denomination, a Calvinist of the stern John Knox order, became greatly
excited on account of what he esteemed the heretical doctrines and bad
influence of Methodism. After mature deliberation, he determined that
he would wage against it a war of extermination in the community.
Having formed this resolution, for successive Sabbaths he labored in
the work, and discharged his batteries with most telling effect. His
victory was a signal one. Arminianism was overwhelmed--the Methodists
were completely routed. They had no preacher that they dared to put
up to answer their opponent, and they could only manfully acknowledge
that they were beaten for the present, and adjourn their defense to
some future day. I was only able to learn the manner in which he
discussed the antagonistic Arminian and Calvinistic doctrines of
"falling from grace," and the "perseverance of the saints." But, if
that was a specimen of the entire discussion, any one at all acquainted
with slave preaching, with the frequent use made by these preachers
of _illustrations_ and _comparisons_, and the great effects produced
by them upon the minds of the slaves, can well understand how this
preacher had such power over his audience. It was as follows:
"De Methodiss, my bruddren, is like de grasshopper--hoppin', all de
time hoppin'--hop into heaven, hop out, hop into heaven, hop out. But,
my bruddren, de Baptiss, when he get to heaven, _he's dar_! De Baptiss
is like de 'possum. Hunter get after him, he climb de tree; he shake de
limb, one foot gone; he shake de limb, anudder foot gone; he shake de
limb, ebbery foot gone; but tink you, my bruddren, _'possum fall_? You
know, my bruddren--you cotch too many--you know _'possum hang on by de
tail_, and de berry debbil can't shake him off!"
The head Methodists, after many conferences, concluded that they would
make one desperate effort to save their cause. After discussing the
merits of all their preachers far and near, they decided to send for
the Rev. Nathan Board, the veteran war-horse in theological polemics I
have already introduced to my readers. This venerable preacher of the
olden time was a genuine African, and entered his profession before
it was fashionable for those of his class to learn to read; but he
had a strong memory, which made up somewhat for this "defect" in his
education, and, if he could not remember the very thing that he wished
to repeat, he could always remember _something_; and, therefore, he was
never at a loss for a quotation from Scripture, or an illustration.
The appointed Sabbath arrived, and Nathan was on the ground. The
intense excitement among the blacks had aroused the curiosity of the
whites, and there was a general turnout of white and black to hear
Nathan's defense. His brethren had in private gone over all the strong
points that had been made by their opponent, had given him a graphic
and glowing picture of the utterly prostrate condition of their
cause, and with the eloquence of the deepest feeling had endeavored
to impress him with the magnitude of the interests involved in his
success or failure. Nathan was greatly excited, but he was confident of
his ability to meet the emergency. He had not read books, but in the
previous fifty years he had witnessed many a fierce and bitter contest
between successive Governors, Congressmen, and others, in their hot
race for office, and his polemical tastes had made him a close observer
of the various methods of meeting and overwhelming an opponent. That my
readers may understand what follows, I must premise that the American
Bible Union, under the presidency of the Rev. Spencer H. Cone, D.D.,
was at the time very earnestly engaged in the revision of the Bible;
that the Baptist churches in the Southwest very generally coöperated
in this work; that pastors of churches and agents of the society were
urging its necessity, and soliciting collections in its aid; and that
the other denominations were very generally defending King James's
translation, and opposing the new version. Hence the question was the
subject of almost universal discussion by the white clergymen; and, as
I have already said, the colored preachers were but their echoes--they
all felt called upon to enlighten their congregations upon this, as
upon all other questions.
Having gone through the preliminary services, Nathan arose and
commenced his sermon as follows:
"My bruddren, I has been sent for to come here and preach, and, when I
gets t'rough, you'll t'ink I _has_ preached. You'll find my text, if my
memory sarve me, in de book of de Revolution: 'For de great day of his
raff is come, and who do you t'ink is gwine to stand?'"
Nathan was too full to spend any time in introduction. He broke out at
once, in the most emphatic manner: "And do you t'ink, my bruddren, de
Baptiss will den be able to stand?" Shutting his eyes and shaking his
head most dubiously, with his peculiar guttural "Umph! ah! my Lord! and
you'll see 'em paddling den. All de water in de Ohio River won't save
'em den; dey'll call for de rocks and de mountains to fall on 'em in
dat great day of his _raff_, and I'll tell you, my bruddren, dat a hot
rock will be a mighty tight place for a Baptiss."
Having thus given vent to his feelings, in imitation of Cicero's
immortal philippic against Catiline, he proceeded with more
deliberation and at great length to review the entire ground that had
been traveled over by his theological assailant.
The grasshopper, the 'possum, and all the other strong points were
taken up and disposed of to the entire satisfaction of his brethren.
The stunning blows that he had dealt in his opening passage were
followed by others, scarcely less telling, all the way through to the
peroration. Already he saw in the faces of his audience undoubted
evidence of the success of his efforts, and he was flushed with
victory. His tone became triumphant, if not overbearing. His bitterness
and severity would surely have been entirely inexcusable, but for
the excitement he was under from the terrible provocation. That
"grasshopper" comparison was the most damaging assault upon Methodism,
the most crushing blow to Arminianism, that he had ever been called
upon to repel, in all the long years of his ministry. That of itself
was enough to fire all the blood of this old theological war-horse.
And then to follow that with the "'possum"--that was the crowning
indignity--that was a Calvinistic blow administered to an already
crushed and fallen foe, which Nathan's Arminian blood was fired to
punish to the very utmost extent of his power. In Nathan's intense
admiration for his Master he had, with the extraordinary imitative
powers of his race, taken on, in addition to the clerical, a very
decided military bearing. In his composite character, he represented
the dignity of the bishop and the boldness and dash of the successful
general. He was, therefore, a very striking representative of the
"church militant," and he put into the remainder of his defense the
concentrated polemical power of the two professions. He proceeded:
"De Baptiss, my bruddren, is in such a gone case, dey is in such a
mighty tight fix, dat de ole Bible--de Bible dat all de faders and
mudders have gone to heaven wid--de Bible dat dey used to love such
a heap--de ole Bible dat fill us wid de hebbenly fire all de way
along de road to Canaan--dat ole Bible, my bruddren, is no account
any more to de Baptiss, and dey say dat the Baptiss is a gwine to get
up a new deversion. In de ole Bible it reads, if my memory sarve me,
'In dose days came John de Baptiss.' Dey say in de new deversion its
gwine to read, 'In dose days came John de Immerser'--_'tain't dar_,
my bruddren. In de ole Bible it reads, if my memory sarve me, 'He
shall baptize you wid de Holy Ghost and wid de fire.' Dey say dat in
de new deversion it's gwine to read, 'He shall _immerse_ you wid de
Holy Ghost and wid de fire'--_tain't dar_, my bruddren! Immersin' wid
fire, my bruddren!--immersin' wid fire! Who ever read in de Bible 'bout
immersin' wid fire, _only_ dem chil'en of de three Hebrewsers? Dey was
immersed wid fire--dem three Hebrewsers dat was put into de furnace,
heated seven times hot by de dedict of Nebuckefalus--what you call 'em
now" (scratching his head)--"Shamrack, Shimshack, and Bedgone. Dey ar
all dat we read in de Bible 'bout bein' immersed wid fire."
This was the finishing blow. Nathan sat down. The excitement and joy of
his brethren were unbounded. They shouted, danced, shook hands, hugged,
and yielded themselves up to that perfect luxury of excited, joyous
feeling of which they alone seem capable.
My esteemed friend the late Rev. W.W. Hill, D.D., to whom my readers
are indebted for the story of the candidate and his Greek quotations,
gave me the following facts, illustrating the argumentative power of an
old-time slave preacher:
At the commencement of the Doctor's ministry he was for several years
the pastor of a church that had been founded in the early history of
the State, and ministered to for a lifetime by a distinguished Scotch
minister. He had indoctrinated the entire community, and built up a
very strong Presbyterian church. Dr. Hill, who was a native of the
State, and greatly interested in the colored people, was very often
invited to preach to a colored Baptist church in the afternoon, which
he always did with the greatest pleasure. It is perhaps not known to
all my readers that the slaves always assumed and stoutly maintained
among themselves the relative social rank and position of their
masters. If the master was a President, Governor, Member of Congress,
Judge, or a man of large wealth, all his slaves participated in his
honors, and often bore them more conspicuously and proudly than he did.
It so happened that in Dr. Hill's congregation the families of highest
social position were Presbyterians. Some of the slaves, quite naturally
for them, got the impression that the Presbyterian Church was "de
'ristoratic church," and thought it would be a nice thing if they could
have a Presbyterian church for the colored people. But they were all
thoroughly indoctrinated in the Baptist creed--and there was the rub.
"Christ went down _into_ the water, and came up _out_ of the water."
That, in their minds, was the hard thing to be overcome. But the desire
to attain social elevation through church relations has often caused
other than colored people to make extraordinary struggles, and they
were willing to put forth the effort. After many conferences upon the
subject among themselves, they concluded to invite Dr. Hill to preach
on the subject of baptism, and explain and defend the Presbyterian
views. They accordingly called on him, and presented their request,
which surprised him very much. He said to them:
"I have preached for you, whenever you have invited me, for several
years, and you all know that I have never said one word upon the
subject of baptism. I do not like to do it now. The people will not
understand it, and will think I am trying to proselyte you."
But they told him that they had been appointed a committee to invite
him to preach on the subject, and that it would be understood by all
that he preached on baptism at their request. Upon this statement
he accepted the invitation and afterward preached for them as
requested. But his effort was a decided failure; he did not "move de
difficulties." "Christ went down _into_ the water, and came up _out_
of the water." That was still the great stumbling-block in the way of
the organization of a Presbyterian church for the colored people. Some
weeks afterward Judge Green, of Danville, Kentucky, drove over in his
family carriage to make a visit and spend a Sabbath with some of his
friends in this congregation.
It soon became noised abroad among the slaves that the _driver_ of this
distinguished jurist was not only, like his master, a Presbyterian, but
he was a noted Presbyterian preacher.[4]
The committee who had invited Dr. Hill to make the effort that proved
so unsuccessful, at once waited upon their distinguished visitor, and
invited him to preach to them upon the subject of baptism. He was from
Danville, the seat of a Presbyterian college, the Jerusalem of the
Presbyterian Church in Kentucky. Hence the honor of that Church among
the colored people of that State was largely in his keeping, and he
appreciated his responsibilities. He accepted the invitation promptly,
and, like the Rev. Nathan Board, he was confident and eager to stand
forth as the champion of his church. He was greeted with a large
congregation, and his effort was a decided success.
Some days after, Dr. Hill met some of the committee, and said to them:
"I understand that this colored Presbyterian minister from Danville
preached on baptism last Sunday, and that he has made the whole matter
entirely clear and satisfactory to you all."
They assured him that that was true.
"Now," said the Doctor, "that seems very strange to me. You all profess
to like my preaching, and are generally full of compliments and thanks
for my sermons. I have done my very best for you on this subject of
baptism. I have told you all I know--all I have learned from Hebrew and
Greek--and it did not do one bit of good. And now this colored minister
from Danville preaches to you, and beats me entirely. He makes the
whole subject plain and satisfactory to you. Can you tell me what he
said?"
"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" they responded. "His tex' was, 'My sheep hears
my voice, and I knows them, and dey follows me.' Den he said, 'In de
Bible de Christians is de sheep.' He had a heap of Bible on dat p'int,
and he preached a mighty long time and make dat so strong, no nigger
can't 'spute it. And den he said, mighty strong, 'Now, my bruddren and
sisters, you all knows you can't get a sheep into de water nohow,
'less you cotch him and carries him in.' And, preacher, you knows dat
is so yourself."
I give these truthful sketches of old-time slave preachers and
preaching in the hope that others may follow my example, and preserve
as many as possible of these illustrations of a state of things now
rapidly passing away, through the labors of an educated ministry.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 4: I do not know that I need to say that these slave
preachers were not regularly licensed and ordained by any
ecclesiastical body. They simply assumed the profession, and were
recognized as preachers among their own people.]