I have already said that Dr. Gaines was a man of deep religious
feeling, and this interest was not confined to the whites, for he felt
that it was the Christian duty to help to save all mankind, white and
black. He would often say, “I regard our negroes as given to us by an
All Wise Providence, for their especial benefit, and we should impart
to them Christian civilization.” And to this end, he labored most
faithfully.
No matter how driving the work on the plantation, whether seed-time or
harvest, whether threatened with rain or frost, nothing could prevent
his having the slaves all in at family prayers, night and morning.
Moreover, the older servants were often invited to take part in the
exercises. They always led the singing, and, on Sabbath mornings,
were permitted to ask questions eliciting Scriptural explanations.
Of course, some of the questions and some of the prayers were rather
crude, and the effect, to an educated person, was rather to call forth
laughter than solemnity.
Leaving home one morning, for a visit to the city, the Doctor ordered
Jim, an old servant, to do some mowing in the rye-field; on his return,
finding the rye-field as he had left it in the morning, he called Jim
up, and severely flogged him without giving the man an opportunity of
telling why the work had been neglected. On relating the circumstance
at the supper-table, the wife said,--
“I am very sorry that you whipped Jim, for I took him to do some work
in the garden, amongst my flower-beds.”
[Illustration: TROPICAL LUXURIANCE.]
To this the Doctor replied, “Never mind, I’ll make it all right with
Jim.”
And sure enough he did, for that night, at prayers, he said, “I am
sorry, Jim, that I corrected you, to-day, as your mistress tells me
that she set you to work in the flower-garden. Now, Jim,” continued he,
in a most feeling manner, “I always want to do justice to my servants,
and you know that I never abuse any of you intentionally, and now,
to-night, I will let you lead in prayer.”
Jim thankfully acknowledged the apology, and, with grateful tears, and
an overflowing heart, accepted the situation; for Jim aspired to be a
preacher, like most colored men, and highly appreciated an opportunity
to show his persuasive powers; and that night the old man made splendid
use of the liberty granted to him. After praying for everything
generally, and telling the Lord what a great sinner he himself was, he
said,--
“Now, Lord, I would specially ax you to try to save marster. You knows
dat marster thinks he’s mighty good; you knows dat marster says he’s
gwine to heaven; but Lord, I have my doubts; an’ yet I want marster
saved. Please to convert him over agin; take him, dear Lord, by de nap
of de neck, and shake him over hell and show him his condition. But,
Lord, don’t let him fall into hell, jes let him see whar he ought to go
to, but don’t let him go dar. An’ now, Lord, ef you jes save marster, I
will give you de glory.”
The indignation expressed by the doctor, at the close of Jim’s prayer,
told the old negro that for once he had overstepped the mark. “What
do you mean, Jim, by insulting me in that manner? Asking the Lord to
convert me over again. And praying that I might be shaken over hell. I
have a great mind to tie you up, and give you a good correcting. If you
ever make another such a prayer, I’ll whip you well, that I will.”
Dr. Gaines felt so intensely the duty of masters to their slaves that
he, with some of his neighbors, inaugurated a religious movement,
whereby the blacks at the Corners could have preaching once a
fortnight, and that, too, by an educated white man. Rev. John Mason,
the man selected for this work, was a heavy-set, fleshy, lazy man who,
when entering a house, sought the nearest chair, taking possession of
it, and holding it to the last.
He had been employed many years as a colporteur or missionary,
sometimes preaching to the poor whites, and, at other times, to the
slaves, for which service he was compensated either by planters, or by
the dominant religious denomination in the section where he labored.
Mr. Mason had carefully studied the character of the people to whom he
was called to preach, and took every opportunity to shirk his duties,
and to throw them upon some of the slaves, a large number of whom were
always ready and willing to exhort when called upon.
We shall never forget his first sermon, and the profound sensation
that it created both amongst masters and slaves, and especially the
latter. After taking for his text, “He that knoweth his master’s
will, and doeth it not, shall be beaten with many stripes,” he spoke
substantially as follows:--
“Now when _correction_ is given you, you either deserve it, or you do
not deserve it. But whether you really deserve it or not, it is your
duty, and Almighty God requires that you bear it patiently. You may,
perhaps, think that this is hard doctrine, but if you consider it right
you must needs think otherwise of it. Suppose then, that you deserve
correction, you cannot but say that it is just and right you should
meet with it. Suppose you do not, or at least you do not deserve so
much, or so severe a correction for the fault you have committed, you,
perhaps, have escaped a great many more, and are at last paid for all.
Or suppose you are quite innocent of what is laid to your charge, and
suffer wrongfully in that particular thing, is it not possible you may
have done some other bad thing which was never discovered, and that
Almighty God, who saw you doing it, would not let you escape without
punishment one time or another? And ought you not, in such a case, to
give glory to Him, and be thankful that he would rather punish you in
this life for your wickedness, than destroy your souls for it in the
next life? But suppose that even this was not the case (a case hardly
to be imagined), and that you have by no means, known or unknown,
deserved the correction you suffered, there is this great comfort in
it, that if you bear it patiently, and leave your cause in the hands
of God, he will reward you for it in heaven, and the punishment you
suffer unjustly here, shall turn to your exceeding great glory,
hereafter.”
At this point, the preacher hesitated a moment, and then continued, “I
am now going to give you a description of hell, that awful place, that
you will surely go to, if you don’t be good and faithful servants.
“Hell is a great pit, more than two hundred feet deep, and is walled up
with stone, having a strong, iron grating at the top. The fire is built
of pitch pine knots, tar barrels, lard kegs, and butter firkins. One of
the devil’s imps appears twice a day, and throws about half a bushel
of brimstone on the fire, which is never allowed to cease burning. As
sinners die they are pitched headlong into the pit, and are at once
taken up upon the pitchforks by the devil’s imps, who stand, with
glaring eyes and smiling countenances, ready to do their master’s work.”
Here the speaker was disturbed by the “Amens,” “Bless God, I’ll keep
out of hell,” “Dat’s my sentiments,” which plainly told him that he had
struck the right key.
“Now,” continued the preacher, “I will tell you where heaven is, and
how you are to obtain a place there. Heaven is above the skies; its
streets are paved with gold; seraphs and angels will furnish you with
music which never ceases. You will all be permitted to join in the
singing and you will be fed on manna and honey, and you will drink from
fountains, and will ride in golden chariots.”
“I am bound for hebben,” ejaculated one.
“Yes, blessed God, hebben will be my happy home,” said another.
These outbursts of feeling were followed, while the man of God stood
with folded arms, enjoying the sensation that his eloquence had created.
After pausing a moment or two, the reverend man continued, “Are there
any of you here who would rather burn in hell than rest in heaven?
Remember that once in hell you can never get out. If you attempt to
escape little devils are stationed at the top of the pit, who will,
with their pitchforks, toss you back into the pit, _curchunk_, where
you must remain forever. But once in heaven, you will be free the
balance of your days.” Here the wildest enthusiasm showed itself,
amidst which the preacher took his seat.
A rather humorous incident now occurred which created no little
merriment amongst the blacks, and to the somewhat discomfiture of Dr.
Gaines,--who occupied a seat with the whites who were present.
Looking about the room, being unacquainted with the negroes, and
presuming that all or nearly so were experimentally interested in
religion, Mr. Mason called on Ike to close with prayer. The very
announcement of Ike’s name in such a connection called forth a broad
grin from the larger portion of the audience.
Now, it so happened that Ike not only made no profession of religion,
but was in reality the farthest off from the church of any of the
servants at “Poplar Farm”; yet Ike was equal to the occasion, and at
once responded, to the great amazement of his fellow slaves.
Ike had been, from early boyhood, an attendant upon whites, and he had
learned to speak correctly for an uneducated person. He was pretty
well versed in Scripture and had learned the principal prayer that his
master was accustomed to make, and would often get his fellow-servants
together at the barn on a rainy day and give them the prayer, with such
additions and improvements as the occasion might suggest. Therefore,
when called upon by Mr. Mason, Ike at once said, “Let us pray.”
After floundering about for a while, as if feeling his way, the new
beginner struck out on the well-committed prayer, and soon elicited
a loud “amen,” and “bless God for that,” from Mr. Mason, and to the
great amusement of the blacks. In his eagerness, however, to make a
grand impression, Ike attempted to weave into his prayer some poetry on
“Cock Robin,” which he had learned, and which nearly spoiled his maiden
prayer.
After the close of the meeting, the Doctor invited the preacher to
remain over night, and accepting the invitation, we in the great house
had an opportunity of learning more of the reverend man’s religious
views.
When comfortably seated in the parlor, the Doctor said, “I was well
pleased with your discourse, I think the tendency will be good upon the
servants.”
“Yes,” responded the minister, “The negro is eminently a religious
being, more so, I think, than the white race. He is emotional, loves
music, is wonderfully gifted with gab; the organ of alimentativeness
largely developed, and is fond of approbation. I therefore try always
to satisfy their vanity; call upon them to speak, sing, and pray, and
sometimes to preach. That suits for this world. Then I give them a
heaven with music in it, and with something to eat. Heaven without
singing and food would be no place for the negro. In the cities, where
many of them are free, and have control of their own time, they are
always late to church meetings, lectures, or almost anything else. But
let there be a festival or supper announced and they are all there on
time.”
“But did you know,” said Dr. Gaines, “that the prayer that Ike made
to-day he learned from me?”
“Indeed?” responded the minister.
“Yes, that boy has the imitative power of his race in a larger degree
than most negroes that I have seen. He remembers nearly everything that
he hears, is full of wit, and has most excellent judgment. However, his
dovetailing the Cock Robin poetry into my prayer was too much, and I
had to laugh at his adroitness.”
The Doctor was much pleased with the minister, but Mrs. Gaines was
not. She had great contempt for professional men who sprung from the
lower class, and she regarded Mr. Mason as one to be endured but not
encouraged. The Rev. Henry Pinchen was her highest idea of a clergyman.
This gentleman was then expected in the neighborhood, and she made
special reference to the fact, to her husband, when speaking of the
“negro missionary,” as she was wont to call the new-comer.
The preparation made, a few days later, for the reception of Mrs.
Gaines’ favorite spiritual adviser, showed plainly that a religious
feast was near at hand, and in which the lady was to play a conspicuous
part; and whether her husband was prepared to enter into the enjoyment
or not, he would have to tolerate considerable noise and bustle for a
week.
“Go, Hannah,” said Mrs. Gaines, “and tell Dolly to kill a couple of fat
pullets, and to put the biscuit to rise. I expect Brother Pinchen here
this afternoon, and I want everything in order. Hannah, Hannah, tell
Melinda to come here. We mistresses do have a hard time in this world;
I don’t see why the Lord should have imposed such heavy duties on us
poor mortals. Well, it can’t last always. I long to leave this wicked
world, and go home to glory.”
At the hurried appearance of the waiting maid the mistress said: “I am
to have company this afternoon, Melinda. I expect Brother Pinchen here,
and I want everything in order. Go and get one of my new caps, with the
lace border, and get out my scolloped-bottomed dimity petticoat, and
when you go out, tell Hannah to clean the white-handled knives, and
see that not a speck is on them; for I want everything as it should be
while Brother Pinchen is here.”
Mr. Pinchen was possessed with a large share of the superstition that
prevails throughout the South, not only with the ignorant negro, who
brought it with him from his native land, but also by a great number of
well educated and influential whites.
On the first afternoon of the reverend gentleman’s visit, I listened
with great interest to the following conversation between Mrs. Gaines
and her ministerial friend.
“Now, Brother Pinchen, do give me some of your experience since
you were last here. It always does my soul good to hear religious
experience. It draws me nearer and nearer to the Lord’s side. I do love
to hear good news from God’s people.”
“Well, Sister Gaines,” said the preacher, “I’ve had great opportunities
in my time to study the heart of man. I’ve attended a great many
camp-meetings, revival meetings, protracted meetings, and death-bed
scenes, and I am satisfied, Sister Gaines, that the heart of man is
full of sin, and desperately wicked. This is a wicked world, Sister
Gaines, a wicked world.”
“Were you ever in Arkansas, Brother Pinchen?” inquired Mrs. Gaines;
“I’ve been told that the people out there are very ungodly.”
_Mr. P._ “Oh, yes, Sister Gaines. I once spent a year at Little Rock,
and preached in all the towns round about there; and I found some
hard cases out there, I can tell you. I was once spending a week in a
district where there were a great many horse thieves, and, one night,
somebody stole my pony. Well, I knowed it was no use to make a fuss,
so I told Brother Tarbox to say nothing about it, and I’d get my
horse by preaching God’s everlasting gospel; for I had faith in the
truth, and knowed that my Saviour would not let me lose my pony. So
the next Sunday I preached on horse-stealing, and told the brethren
to come up in the evenin’ with their hearts filled with the grace of
God. So that night the house was crammed brimfull with anxious souls,
panting for the bread of life. Brother Bingham opened with prayer, and
Brother Tarbox followed, and I saw right off that we were gwine to have
a blessed time. After I got ’em pretty well warmed up, I jumped on to
one of the seats, stretched out my hands and said: ‘I know who stole my
pony; I’ve found out; and you are in here tryin’ to make people believe
that you’ve got religion; but you ain’t got it. And if you don’t take
my horse back to Brother Tarbox’s pasture this very night, I’ll tell
your name right out in meetin’ to-morrow night. Take my pony back, you
vile and wretched sinner, and come up here and give your heart to God.’
So the next mornin’, I went out to Brother Tarbox’s pasture, and sure
enough, there was my bob-tail pony. Yes, Sister Gaines, there he was,
safe and sound. Ha, ha, ha!”
_Mrs. G._ “Oh, how interesting, and how fortunate for you to get your
pony! And what power there is in the gospel! God’s children are very
lucky. Oh, it is so sweet to sit here and listen to such good news
from God’s people? [_Aside._] ‘You Hannah, what are you standing there
listening for, and neglecting your work? Never mind, my lady, I’ll
whip you well when I am done here. Go at your work this moment, you
lazy huzzy! Never mind, I’ll whip you well.’ Come, do go on, Brother
Pinchen, with your godly conversation. It is so sweet! It draws me
nearer and nearer to the Lord’s side.”
_Mr. P._ “Well, Sister Gaines, I’ve had some mighty queer dreams in my
time, that I have. You see, one night I dreamed that I was dead and
in heaven, and such a place I never saw before. As soon as I entered
the gates of the celestial empire, I saw many old and familiar faces
that I had seen before. The first person that I saw was good old Elder
Pike, the preacher that first called my attention to religion. The
next person I saw was Deacon Billings, my first wife’s father, and
then I saw a host of godly faces. Why, Sister Gaines, you knowed Elder
Goosbee, didn’t you?”
_Mrs. G._ “Why, yes; did you see him there? He married me to my first
husband.”
_Mr. P._ “Oh, yes, Sister Gaines, I saw the old Elder, and he looked
for all the world as if he had just come out of a revival meetin’.”
_Mrs. G._ “Did you see my first husband there, Brother Pinchen?”
_Mr. P._ “No, Sister Gaines, I didn’t see Brother Pepper there; but
I’ve no doubt but that Brother Pepper was there.”
_Mrs. G._ “Well, I don’t know; I have my doubts. He was not the
happiest man in the world. He was always borrowing trouble about
something or another. Still, I saw some happy moments with Mr. Pepper.
I was happy when I made his acquaintance, happy during our courtship,
happy a while after our marriage, and happy when he died.” [_Weeps._]
_Hannah._ “Massa Pinchen, did you see my ole man Ben up dar in hebben?”
_Mr. P._ “No, Hannah, I didn’t go amongst the niggers.”
_Mrs. G._ “No, of course Brother Pinchen didn’t go among the blacks.
What are you asking questions for? [_Aside._] ‘Never mind, my lady,
I’ll whip you well when I’m done here. I’ll skin you from head to
foot.’ Do go on with your heavenly conversation, Brother Pinchen; it
does my very soul good. This is indeed a precious moment for me. I do
love to hear of Christ and Him crucified.”
_Mr. P._ “Well, Sister Gaines, I promised Sister Daniels that I’d come
over and see her a few moments this evening, and have a little season
of prayer with her, and I suppose I must go.”
_Mrs. G._ “If you must go, then I’ll have to let you; but before you
do, I wish to get your advice upon a little matter that concerns
Hannah. Last week Hannah stole a goose, killed it, cooked it, and she
and her man Sam had a fine time eating the goose; and her master and I
would never have known anything about it if it had not been for Cato, a
faithful servant, who told his master all about it. And then, you see,
Hannah had to be severely whipped before she’d confess that she stole
the goose. Next Sabbath is sacrament day, and I want to know if you
think that Hannah is fit to go to the Lord’s Supper, after stealing the
goose.”
“Well, Sister Gaines,” responded the minister, “that depends on
circumstances. If Hannah has confessed that she stole the goose, and
has been sufficiently whipped, and has begged her master’s pardon, and
begged your pardon, and thinks she will not do the like again, why then
I suppose she can go to the Lord’s Supper; for--
‘While the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.’
But she must be sure that she has repented, and won’t steal any more.”
“Do you hear that, Hannah?” said the mistress. “For my part,” continued
she, “I don’t think she’s fit to go to the Lord’s Supper; for she had
no cause to steal the goose. We give our servants plenty of good food.
They have a full run to the meal-tub, meat once a fortnight, and all
the sour milk on the place, and I am sure that’s enough for any one.
I do think that our negroes are the most ungrateful creatures in the
world. They aggravate my life out of me.”
During this talk on the part of the mistress, the servant stood
listening with careful attention, and at its close Hannah said:--
“I know, missis, dat I stole de goose, an’ massa whip me for it, an’ I
confess it, an’ I is sorry for it. But, missis, I is gwine to de Lord’s
Supper, next Sunday, kase I ain’t agwine to turn my back on my bressed
Lord an’ Massa for no old tough goose, dat I ain’t.” And here the
servant wept as if she would break her heart.
Mr. Pinchen, who seemed moved by Hannah’s words, gave a sympathizing
look at the negress, and said, “Well, Sister Gaines, I suppose I must
go over and see Sister Daniels; she’ll be waiting for me.”
After seeing the divine out, Mrs. Gaines said, “Now, Hannah, Brother
Pinchen is gone, do you get the cowhide and follow me to the cellar,
and I’ll whip you well for aggravating me as you have to-day. It seems
as if I can never sit down to take a little comfort with the Lord,
without you crossing me. The devil always puts it into your head to
disturb me, just when I am trying to serve the Lord. I’ve no doubt but
that I’ll miss going to heaven on your account. But I’ll whip you well
before I leave this world, that I will. Get the cowhide and follow me
to the cellar.”
In a few minutes the lady returned to the parlor, followed by the
servant whom she had been correcting, and she was in a high state of
perspiration, and, on taking a seat, said, “Get the fan, Hannah, and
fan me; you ought to be ashamed of yourself to put me into such a
passion, and cause me to heat myself up in this way, whipping you. You
know that it is a great deal harder for me than it is for you. I have
to exert myself, and it puts me all in a fever; while you have only to
stand and take it.”
On the following Sabbath,--it being Communion,--Mr. Pinchen officiated.
The church being at the Corners, a mile or so from “Poplar Farm,” the
Communion wine, which was kept at the Doctor’s, was sent over by the
boy, Billy. It happened to be in the month of April, when the maple
trees had been tapped, and the sap freely running.
Billy, while passing through the “sugar camp,” or sap bush, stopped
to take a drink of the sap, which looked inviting in the newly-made
troughs. All at once it occurred to the lad that he could take a drink
of the wine, and fill it up with sap. So, acting upon this thought, the
youngster put the decanter to his mouth, and drank freely, lowering the
beverage considerably in the bottle.
But filling the bottle with the sap was much more easily contemplated
than done. For, at every attempt, the water would fall over the sides,
none going in. However, the boy, with the fertile imagination of his
race, soon conceived the idea of sucking his mouth full of the sap, and
then squirting it into the bottle. This plan succeeded admirably, and
the slave boy sat in the church gallery that day, and wondered if the
communicants would have partaken so freely of the wine, if they had
known that his mouth had been the funnel through which a portion of it
had passed.
Slavery has had the effect of brightening the mental powers of the
negro to a certain extent, especially those brought into close contact
with the whites.
It is also a fact, that these blacks felt that when they could get the
advantage of their owners, they had a perfect right to do so; and the
boy, Billy, no doubt, entertained a consciousness that he had done a
very cunning thing in thus drinking the wine entrusted to his care.