The Colored Man in the Methodist Episcopal Church

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.

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.