DURING THE WAR.
The Abolition Church! If there was any one denomination of Christians in
this country, north of Mason and Dixon’s Line, that was anathematized
beyond another, declared by many in the South one of the most forward
instigators and abettors of the late Civil War, it was the “Northern” or
“Abolition Methodist Church,” as they called our Church. Well do I
remember the “yarns” told by the soldiers of General Sterling Price’s
army on a preacher they captured from the Union soldiers in Missouri.
The preacher was a noble specimen, and looked more like a Norman king
than any of those about him. This minister of the Lord Jesus was
terribly abused by his captors. Not so much, as they said, because he
was a Union soldier—that was bad enough—but he belonged to the
“Northern” or “Abolition Methodist Church.” “The Methodist Episcopal
Church, South”—or as it is, and was, better known as “The Southern
Methodist Episcopal Church”—is a relative term or name. It was natural,
therefore, for the Southern Confederacy to adopt it, and grant it a kind
of supremacy above every other denomination. Did it not lead the
secession movement in favor of slavery? It is no stretch of imagination
to say some people united with it for that very reason. It was to have
been expected that the two Churches, wherever they met, would sustain
the same relations that the Jews and Samaritans used to sustain to each
other. It was impossible to expect anything less than bitter opposition
to the “Northern Church.” There was a time in the South when he who
spoke favorably of our Church was not only suspected as a “lover of
niggers,” but one to be “let alone,” for all intents and purposes, as a
traitor. That times have changed but very little in the South along
these lines, but few doubt.
If there never comes another time and cause when the Methodist Episcopal
Church will interest herself in the politics of this country, no sane
person will deny the fact that she was so interested when the question
of the abolition of human slavery was being discussed, and while the
Civil War was being waged. If there has never been a time when “the two
branches of Methodism” hung on exactly opposite sides of the parent tree
with about equal weight since the secession of 1844 until the Civil War
began, they occupied the above-named attitude during the bloody scenes
of those four years. The Methodist Episcopal Church, South, as such,
supported the Confederacy, while the Methodist Episcopal Church
supported the Union. And now if the Methodist Episcopal Church, South,
closed her doors that the pastor might lead his official lay members
into the war—praying, preaching, singing, and fighting every day of the
week and Sunday, too—the Methodist Episcopal Church did as much to
counteract this. The evidence of this is found in the fact that for
upwards of twenty years—ever since the secession of 1844 to 1864—the
Methodist Episcopal Church had been practically excluded from the South,
and only ventured to plant outposts along the border States, where she
found admittance by some compromises to the conservative element that
came to her there. Not only so, but President Lincoln declared it “no
fault of other denominations that the Methodist Episcopal Church
furnished more money and men to suppress the Rebellion.” As a rule our
bishops and ministers and membership, wherever they went, preached,
lectured, exhorted, and prayed for the overthrow of the terrible slavery
that bound hand and foot four and a half million human beings in a
bondage more terrible than that of Pharaoh and more demoralizing than
that of the Russian empire. It was said of one of our bishops:
“Throughout the late war Bishop Simpson did much to strengthen the hands
of President Lincoln, and to nerve the spirit of the nation to endure
any sacrifice for the cause of the Union.”
The class of men elected to General Conference positions at the General
Conference of 1860, showed unmistakably the attitude of our Church
toward slavery and the war. Her standing rule that “non-slaveholding”
henceforth was to be one of the conditions of membership in the Church,
the periodicals of the Church being put in the hands of anti-slavery
editors were straws in the wind. Everybody knows that Dr. Daniel Wise
was considered “an offensive partisan” on the question of slavery. Dr.
Whedon, who was barely elected at the General Conference of 1856 because
of his radicalism, was at this General Conference (1860) unanimously
re-elected editor of our _Quarterly Review_. When that General
Conference adjourned it was plainly to be seen that our Church had put
on ecclesiastical war-paint, and was therefore prepared to push the
battle of human freedom to the gate. If any one doubts this, proof is
forthcoming in the fact that, the conservative element in our Church
seeing the status of affairs, a newspaper, known as _The Methodist_, was
established by them in New York City. The following March, when the
Baltimore Annual Conference met, it resolved, by a unanimous vote, that
it was “determined not to hold connection with any ecclesiastical body
that makes non-slaveholding a condition of membership in the Church.”
Indeed, so high did opposition to the position the Church had taken on
slavery rise, that another secession, similar to that of 1844, came near
taking place. When Rev. Mr. Hedrick was presented by the Baltimore
Conference for ordination to Bishop Scott, he publicly excepted the new
chapter on slavery. Bishop Scott then arose and said: “I regard myself
restrained from ordaining any one who declines to take upon him the
ordination vows without qualification or exception. Hence, I can not
ordain Mr. Hedrick.” This caused considerable commotion, but the bishop
stood like the rock of Gibraltar. “There were giants in those days” all
about him, whose reputation for wisdom and influence was enviable. The
lay conference was in session at the same time in the city. When they
were informed of the refusal of Bishop Scott to ordain Mr. Hedrick, and
the reasons given, they took action declaring a disposition to ignore
the entire subject of slavery in the Discipline. When it is remembered
what class of people our Methodism claims in the State of Maryland;
their means, influence, and their disposition to lead matters, since it
(Baltimore) may be considered one of the principal cradles of Methodism,
and has all along been in the van of Methodist movements; that some of
the most influential, eloquent, and popular men in the Methodist
Episcopal Church “were born in her,” it adds intensity and alarm to the
situation. But Bishop Scott, like most of our bishops, knew the heart of
the Church; knew that he was in full accord with the Church on the
question of slavery, and therefore the Lord was on his side, and stood
like Martin Luther before the Diet at Worms, trusting in God. When such
an expression of opinion on the question of slavery was given by “the
sinews of war”—the laymen—it was an inspiration to the clerical brethren
of the Baltimore Annual Conference. The soul of Bishop Scott was
severely taxed, the Methodist Episcopal Church was disturbed, while the
very air seemed laden with dust from the recent conflict, and more
especially when the Baltimore Annual Conference responded to the
expression of opinion given by the lay conference, by declaring in open
conference: “If three-fourths of all the annual conferences will, within
the year 1861, agree with us, we agree with the action of the laymen and
the Baltimore Conference, and will not reunite with them in Church
fellowship.” When this was presented to the conference, Bishop Scott
announced that he could not entertain a motion contemplating a division
of the Church. He permitted the secretary, Rev. J. S. Martin, to put the
question. But when the bishop came to the chair he ordered the following
paper spread upon the journal:
“The whole action just had on what is called the ‘Norval Wilson
propositions’ is, in my judgment, in violation of the order and
Discipline of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and therefore is
null and void, regarded as conference action. I, therefore, do
not recognize such action as infracting the integrity of this
body, and so I shall proceed to finish the business of the
present session.
“LEVI SCOTT.”
The East Baltimore Conference was also on the eve of seceding, while the
Philadelphia Conference signified its willingness, by a vote of 174 to
35, to have the Rule on Slavery changed. These facts were enough in
themselves to cause the South to look askant at the Methodist Episcopal
Church, and probably caused the Church to be nicknamed “the Abolition
Church.”
By this time the rumors of war had reached a climax. We find a proper
description in the language of the historian Ridpath, who, in speaking
of the capture of Fort Sumter by the rebels, says:
“The news of this startling event went through the country like a flame
of fire. There had been some expectation of violence, but the actual
shock came like a clap of thunder. The people of the towns poured into
the streets, and the country folk flocked to the villages to gather the
tidings and to comment on the coming conflict. Gray-haired men talked
gravely of the deed that was done, and prophesied of its consequences.
Public opinion, both in the North and the South, was rapidly
consolidated. Three days after the fall of Fort Sumter, President
Lincoln issued a call for seventy-five thousand volunteers to serve
three months in the overthrow of the secession movement. On the 19th of
April, when the first regiments of Massachusetts volunteers were passing
through Baltimore on their way to Washington, they were fired upon by
the citizens and three men killed.”
The sounds of preparation for war were heard in every direction. No less
spirit was being manifested throughout the Methodist Episcopal Church.
And yet, notwithstanding the fact that the Baltimore Annual Conference
withdrew by resolution from the Methodist Episcopal Church, because the
Church stood up for the poor slave, not a single compromise at that time
was made by the Church with slavery. To get some idea of the condition
of affairs at the time, or directly thereafter, when Bishop Levi Scott
stood up in the face of the whole world and let his light so shine that
men might see his good works and those of the Church he represented,
when he declined to ordain the Rev. Mr. Hedrick in the presence of the
Baltimore Conference, we quote the language of a man whom every colored
man and most good white men love to honor—Gilbert Haven, D.D.—who says
in his description of the “First War Sunday:”
“That Sabbath-day’s journey ought to be chronicled. We marched
through saintly Boston in the gray twilight to the tune of
‘Yankee Doodle.’ All along the route cannons and bells, bands
and flags and waving handkerchiefs, soldiers and crowds upon
crowds, gave us a hearty hail and farewell. At Hartford we were
told the women were all at home driving their sewing-machines,
and the men busy making cartridges for their troops. All the
town left their churches and gathered around the depot, where
they had had preaching and singing while waiting for us. They
had also provided refreshments enough for five thousand persons,
and plied us with sweetmeats and benedictions. The force of the
fever could go no farther.”
The colored man from one end of this country to the other had always
recognized the Methodist Episcopal Church as a friend to him and his, a
friend whose sympathies were worth a great deal. But whenever he was
reminded that it was “The Abolition Church” and one of the prime causes
of the war—which was usually taught him whenever the poor, deluded
colored men imagined, as they would naturally at times, that the war
imposed additional hardships and burdens—he sometimes shuddered. But
when the Union forces went South, and any of the colored people were
seen, they usually spoke kindly to them. If about religious matters,
they usually found the colored man either a Baptist or a Methodist. If
the latter, and the interlocutor, or any one of the company, was a
Methodist, the poor colored man learned of the interest the Church was
taking in his welfare and liberation. When colored men ran within the
Federal lines, they never failed to find the chaplain or some one of the
company a member of the Methodist Church, who deeply sympathized with
him, and did all possible to make him comfortable. While all this was
true, another aspect presented itself.
THE ATTITUDE OF THE CHURCH AS SEEN BY GENERAL CONFERENCE ACTION.
It was not enough that the General Conference had repeatedly stood forth
the friend of the Union, but individual conferences gave no uncertain
sound at that time. It is almost literally true that the hitherto
unmistakable factional lines within the Church faded so much that the
anti-slavery, conservative, and radical elements united in some sort,
for the purpose of rallying to the national standard to find shelter
beneath “the Star-spangled Banner.”
The New York East Conference in April, 1861, led by Rev. J. S. Inskip,
unanimously declared its unqualified sympathy and support of the
government in its defense of the Constitution. In June of the same year
the New York Conference followed, led on by the manly report submitted
through Rev. J. B. Wakeley, on the State of the Country. In that report
was delineated, in unmistakable language, “the formation of the Southern
Confederacy ... its seizure of the forts, mints, custom-houses, vessels,
and arms of the United States, ... and unnatural war against the
government.” And the report went on and patriotically declared: “No
treasure is too costly, no sacrifice too great, no time too long, to put
down treason and traitors, and to place our Union on a rock so solid
that neither enemies abroad nor traitors at home can move it.” Indeed,
so arrogant and flagrant had the unpunished crimes of the slave
oligarchy become, that the East Baltimore Conference in March, 1862, by
a vote of 132 yeas to 15 nays—led on by Revs. A. A. Reese and G. D.
Chenoweth—not only expressed its “abhorrence of the rebellion,” but
declared, “We approve and indorse the present wise and patriotic
Administration, and in the inculcation of loyal principles and
sentiments we recognize the pulpit and press as legitimate
instrumentalities.” Not only so, but the Philadelphia Conference, in
March of that same year, received and unanimously adopted the report of
their Committee on the State of the Country as presented by the
chairman, Rev. Charles Cook, which affirmed: “We do hereby express our
utter abhorrence and opposition to the present rebellion, being the
offspring of treason, ... and that we pledge our influence to encourage
and assist the army and navy, to protect the honor of our flag, the
integrity of the Constitution, and the maintenance of our glorious
Union.” The New Jersey Conference followed with equally patriotic
resolutions.
MEMORIALIZING CONGRESS.
As if afraid its influence would not be potent enough by its General and
annual conference action on the question of slavery, several of the
annual conferences sent up memorials to Congress and to President
Lincoln. The New York East Conference—when the bill freeing “slaves used
for insurrectionary purposes” was approved, August 6, 1861, and another
forbidding the return of fugitive slaves by persons in the army, March
13, 1862, and the abolishment of slavery in the District of Columbia by
Congress, April 16, 1862—adopted a report drawn up by James Floy, which
declared “the system of American slavery is evidently, in the good
providence of God, destined soon to come to an end; that the recent
action of our national authorities, by which the nation has been
unequivocally committed to the cause of freedom, meets with our entire
approbation.” The same body, with the New York Conference, in 1864,
memorialized Congress, praying the enactment of an amendment to the
Constitution for the abolishment of slavery a year and a half or more
before it was done. The New England Conference sent up the following,
which, for historic accuracy, prophetic ken, and loyalty to the cause of
human freedom, has rarely been surpassed, and will stand in the
forefront of the reputation of that conference for level-headedness and
right doing. We here reproduce it:
“After thirty years of exciting but healthful agitation on the
subject of slavery, the present aspects of our cause furnish
abundant motive for devout thanksgiving to God. The two
antagonistic tendencies of public sentiment existing and
increasing in the nation for so many years, have at length
reached their legitimate crisis of mutual and final conflict, of
which the issue can not be doubtful. By its own diabolical act
[slavery] has been placed in a position where it can claim no
constitutional protection, and where there is no prudential
motive for its retention; and the voice of the people, which
evidently coincides with the voice of God, says: ‘Let it
perish!’ In the Church the progress of the anti-slavery
sentiment has been equally gratifying. Instead of a continued
and meager minority which regarded slavery as a sin, a great
majority of the representative assemblies of the Church register
their solemn verdict of its criminal character, and demand that
it shall cease, not only in the ministry, but in the whole
membership.”
The Black River Conference also gave no uncertain sound when it
declared: “The signs of the times give evidence that the hitherto
dominant and domineering slave power is rapidly approaching its end, and
even now we may witness its horrible death-throe. The time is rapidly
approaching when the last fetter will be broken, and the last bondman be
released.”
Of all the above and many more conferences that took action in support
of the Union, none of them is more worthy of honor because of the action
taken than the Central Ohio, which adopted resolutions as early as 1861
contemplating a proclamation of emancipation as the only conceivable
solution of our national difficulties. The _Christian Advocate_ of
October following, reports the action taken by said conference at its
session in Greenville, September 22, 1862:
“_Resolved_, That we believe that the time has fully come that,
from a military necessity for the safety of the country, such a
proclamation should be made; and we earnestly beseech the
President of the United States to proclaim the emancipation of
all slaves held in the United States, paying loyal men a
reasonable compensation for their slaves.”
This was, by order of the conference, forwarded to the President of the
United States. But before it reached him, as if verifying God’s promise,
“Call, and while you are calling, I will answer,” the President issued
September 22, 1862, the Proclamation, to take effect January 1, 1863.
This Proclamation was not intended to free all the slaves, but only
affected “all persons held as slaves within any State, or any designated
part of a State, the people whereof shall be in rebellion against the
United States on the first day of January, 1863.” Hence it only reached
the States of Arkansas, Louisiana—leaving out some parishes—Texas,
Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Georgia, North and South Carolina, and
Virginia, in all of which States and parts of States all slaves were
henceforth to be free. Other exceptions, such as parts of Virginia,
Missouri, Kentucky, West Virginia, Tennessee, Delaware, and Maryland
were also included in the above, leaving the slaves in the
non-designated parts in slavery.
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