CHAPTER I.
Parentage and Childhood—Lord Timothy Dexter—At School—In Haverhill—Shoemaking—Early Aspirations—Converted—Must be a Minister—On a Plank—Attends School—A Long Walk—Studies with J. C. Waldo and Dr. Cobb—First Preaching—With W. S. Balch—First Tour—First Debate—Comes out Second Best—Talk with an Englishman about American Coarseness—Conversation on Slavery—In Maryland—Talk with an Episcopal Clergyman concerning Endless Woe not Being Taught in the Old Testament—Traveling and Preaching on the Eastern Shore—Returns to Baltimore—A Storm—Where Truth Flourishes and Where it Does Not—Another Location—Self and Faith Abused—Preaches in Harpers Ferry, Charleston, Winchester, Va.—A Hard Battle—Crosses the Alleghany Mountains.
Parentage and Childhood—Lord Timothy Dexter—At School—In Haverhill—Shoemaking—Early Aspirations—Converted—Must be a Minister—On a Plank—Attends School—A Long Walk—Studies with J. C. Waldo and Dr. Cobb—First Preaching—With W. S. Balch—First Tour—First Debate—Comes out Second Best—Talk with an Englishman about American Coarseness—Conversation on Slavery—In Maryland—Talk with an Episcopal Clergyman concerning Endless Woe not Being Taught in the Old Testament—Traveling and Preaching on the Eastern Shore—Returns to Baltimore—A Storm—Where Truth Flourishes and Where it Does Not—Another Location—Self and Faith Abused—Preaches in Harpers Ferry, Charleston, Winchester, Va.—A Hard Battle—Crosses the Alleghany Mountains.
Having been often solicited, by my friends, to publish an account of my travels and labors in the West, after much hesitation and doubt, I have concluded to accede to their wishes. But before doing so, I will say a little about my early life. Newburyport, Mass., is my native place. My father, whose full name I bear, was from Denmark; my mother from Amsterdam, Holland. I was the first born of a family of three boys, one of whom, Frederick, many years since passed the way of all the earth. The other, James, resides in Texas. My father was a sailor, and was lost at sea in a terrific storm, when I was seven years old. I have a faint recollection of seeing him two or three times, and the only memento I have of him, is a large pitcher he had manufactured in Liverpool with his name and the picture of a ship on one side, and my mother’s maiden name and a picture representing Liberty, Peace and Independence, on the oppositeside. My mother was left in indigent circumstances, with not a relative in the New World, save her three helpless boys. She married some years after my father’s death, and resided till her death, which took place two years since, in Princeton, Mass. I have then a father, mother and one brother on the other side of the river, and one brother on this side, and not many years can elapse ere the whole family will be reunited in the land beyond the flood. I well remember the spot where all of us once lived, although I have not been in Newburyport for thirty years. It was on High street, between the Court House and the residence of “Lord” Timothy Dexter. To me, that street seemed a paradise, and it was, and still is, a magnificent thoroughfare. It is on high ground, runs parallel with the Merrimac river, overlooks the harbor, and is bordered with rows of grand trees, with fine residences embowered in lawns and flower gardens. In this charming locality, I spent the first decade of my life. Here I ran, played, and frolicked with my brothers, and other little associates. The Mall around the Court House, the pond in the rear, and a neighboring cemetery, were places of frequent resort. On Sunday, I attended Dr. Morse’s church, where, I am told, I was christened by the good doctor, who was an Episcopalian. But the bud came near being suddenly blasted. An old-fashioned cent which I put into my mouth, slipped down my throat, and was extracted with much difficulty. I distinctly remember the circumstance. When the copper was taken out, blood flowed copiously from my mouth. My poor mother was much frightened, and I suffered for a short time severely. If my father had lived, I should probably have been a sailor. He was first mate of the ship in which he made his last and fatal voyage, and was to have been promoted to captain on his return. I have ever loved the sea, and a ship is a thing of beauty in my eye. But it was writtenthat the solid earth, not the treacherous deep, should be the field of my operations.
One word about Lord Timothy, just referred to. He was a very eccentric man, had many soft spots on his head, but knew enough to accumulate a large fortune. He built a magnificent residence, which he adorned in a very extravagant manner, with sculpture and pictures. He was very vain of his house and wealth. It is said that a stranger, passing his house, was attentively observing it, when Dexter, who was sitting at a window, remarked: “Do you not think this is paradise?” “I should,” replied the man, “if I did not see the devil at the window.” He was dubbed “Lord” for his vanity and ostentation, and the title delighted him as much as “Corsica” prefixed to Boswell, delighted the well known biographer of that name.
I commenced attending school at an early age, but have no pleasant memories of school-hours in my native town. My teacher would read a chapter in the Bible, and make a long prayer every morning, and then whip and pound his pupils till the time for his evening devotions. If I escaped a day without two or three hard thrashings, I deemed myself very fortunate, and I think I was as dutiful as school boys generally were of my age. He was doubtless a believer in total depravity, and was sure that nothing but blows and knocks would make a good impression on our corrupt hearts.
From my tenth to my eighteenth year, I resided in Haverhill, Mass., with S. George. He was a farmer and shoemaker—made shoes in the winter, and tilled the soil summers, and I worked on his farm and in his shop, except winters, when I attended school. I remember my first attempt at horseback riding. I went to live with him in the spring, and he soon put me on a horse to ride when ploughing corn. The beast was contrary and spirited. He would go likejehu a few rods, and then stop short, and I would go over his head on to the ground. But I was as spunky as the horse, and would scramble up, and tell Mr. G. to put me on again. I was always eager to remount the beast, although he threw me twenty times a day. Since then, I have rode over the Western country horseback, and consider myself a good horseman.
I have said I worked in Mr. G.’s shoe shop; yes, and learned to make cheap shoes, but always despised the business, and never more than half learned the trade. My aspiration was to be amerchant. Oh, if I could only be a merchant how happy I would be! I dreamed, and planned, and built air-castles—would weep over my “lapstone,” for being doomed to work at that hateful trade. When I was about sixteen years old, the BostonTrumpet, a Universalist paper, published by Thomas Whittemore, led me to look into Universalism, for up to that time I knew nothing of its principles or history. Mr. George’s family, and all my associates, attended the Congregational church in the neighborhood, and no body seemed to call in question the infallibility of the sermons we heard every Sunday. But theTrumpetopened a new world to my view, changed all my aspirations, and I was really born again. I thought no more of being a merchant—that seemed a contemptible calling,—but must be apreacher. I devoured the paper, read the Bible, and had many hard fought battles with my comrades. I loved them, loved the world, and was sure, if I could get the ears of mankind, I could convert all nations and people. The world seemed to be a musical instrument, tuning the praises of its almighty Author. Thomas Farnsworth was then preaching in Haverhill, four miles from where I resided, and I called on him several times, and he urged me to prepare for the ministry, but I never intimated to him that I had such an intention. I kept that to myself.
I was always fond of reading, and my new faith quickened my love for it. I perused religious books, romance, history, but poetry was especially my delight. I remember with what enthusiasm I read portions of Dr. Young’s “Night Thoughts.” His grand and solemn thoughts and diction stirred my soul to its lowest depths. I even wrote what I called “poetry,” but I am thankful that none of it survives. I have never attempted the “divine art” since those early days, although phrenologists tell me Ioughtto be something of a poet, as my “ideality” is large.
When in Haverhill, I came near losing my life. I never could swim, but with a plank three feet long, one end pressing against my body, I could paddle far from shore into deep water, without any fear. On one occasion, when indulging in one of my aqueous excursions, while in deep water, a comrade, who was ignorant of my helpless condition when off the plank, took it from me, when down I went, but by the aid of other boys I reached the shore, and I never went into deep water again on my frail craft. In my boyhood, I was subject to violent attacks of colic and sick headache, but otherwise my health was good. My physical frame was small and of fine texture, and consequently I was not very strong, and could not cope with boys generally of my age in athletic exercises.
When I was eighteen years old, I left old Haverhill, and repaired to Princeton, where I attended school one year, and made considerable progress in English branches. But my purse being nearly empty, I was obliged to replenish it before I could further prosecute my studies; and having no one to aid me, I went to Boston, hoping something would there turn up in my favor. I knew no one in that city, and no one knew me, and soon became satisfied I had better try my fortune elsewhere. I noticed in a city paper, that school teachers were wanted in EasternNew York, and I resolved to go there and seek a school, although I had only three dollars in my pocket, and it was one hundred and eighty miles to the place of destination; but my empty purse did not prevent my making the journey. On foot and alone, I traveled the whole distance. Although my feet were sore, and my bones and muscles ached, I pursued my weary march, and finally reached the neighborhood of Bethlehem—I think that was the name of the place. I found myself in the midst of a German settlement, with a people of unknown tongue, and of manners and customs all new to me. I remained there but a few days, became distressingly homesick, and resolved to return to Boston. Repaired to Albany, where I sold my watch to pay traveling expenses, went on a steamboat to New-York city, and from thence to Boston by sea. This was my first tour; this was the beginning of my ramblings, but it was rather an unpropitious beginning. When I went on this school-hunting expedition, my intention was, after securing a school, to devote my leisure hours to study, and if opportunity offered, to speak occasionally in public, and thereby prepare myself for what I deemed the chief business of my life. But that Dutch Bethlehem broke up all my calculations, and I returned disgusted, but not discouraged.
In a few days I walked out to Lynn, the great shoe manufacturing town of New England, where nearly all the men, women and children are shoemakers, and recommenced cobbling, earning enough to defray current expenses, and continued my studies. J. C. Waldo was then pastor of the Universalist church in Lynn, and I soon introduced myself to him, and made known my intentions of preparing for the ministry, and he kindly offered me the use of his books, and such instruction as I might need in prosecuting my object. I remained in L. six months, working, reading and writing, when Mr. Waldo advised me togo to Malden, and study with Sylvanus Cobb. To Malden I repaired, and made arrangements with Mr. C. to reside in his family, and devote all my time to study.
A new era in my life had now opened, and my hopes were buoyant. I could give all my time and thought to study, and I made the best use of my advantages. Mr. Cobb was a prominent man in the denomination, an able minister, a fair scholar, and consequently well qualified to give instruction. To that excellent man, and his accomplished lady, I am under great and lasting obligations. “I was a stranger and they took me in.” May God ever bless them. They now reside in Boston. Mr. Cobb, or rather, Dr. Cobb, for he is now a D. D., for many years published theChristian Freeman, is the author of a Commentary on the New Testament, and of several other useful books. His son, Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., who is a well known literary writer, was a boy when I was in Mr. C.’s family, and the twins, Cyrus and Darius, now ministers, and who fought for the Stars and Stripes, during the late rebellion, were born while I was a member of the household. He had three other students while I was with him—A. P. Cleverly, G. Hastings, and C. S. Hussey. We had fine times; we talked, read, wrote and declaimed. When we wanted to ventilate our logic, we repaired to a neighboring grove, where we made the welkin ring with our eloquence. “The Orthodox,” said A. P. Cleverly, on one of these occasions, “will come to you with their creed in one hand, and damnation in the other, and say to you, takethisor takethat, but one of them you must and shall have.” On Monday we generally went to Boston, two miles distant, and at theTrumpetoffice would usually see Hosea Ballou, H. Ballou, 2d, Walter Balfour, Thomas Whittemore, Sabastian Streeter, Henry Bacon, T. B. Thayer, all noted men, but most of them are now dwellers of thespirit land. The departed did a noble work on earth, and long will they be remembered. “Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.”
When I had been with Mr. Cobb about three months, he went to the state of Maine, and left me to preach for him one Sabbath. My heart jumped when the first bell on Sunday morning told me to prepare for my first pulpit services; but I went through the exercises of the day without much embarrassment. My texts were: “God is love”—“They hated me without a cause.” When Mr. C. returned, he seemed well satisfied with my effort, for he had heard his friends speak of it, and gave me words of encouragement. While with him, I preached in Lynn, Haverhill, and several other places, but devoted most of my time to hard study.
After being with Mr. Cobb six months, I put myself under the instruction of William S. Balch, then residing in Claremont, N. H., and pastor of the church in that place. I found him to be a noble man and shall ever remember his many acts of kindness with gratitude. Although I was in his family, and received his instruction most of the time during six months, he would receive no compensation. He now resides in Galesburg, Ill., and although years are pressing hard upon him, he is as faithful in the discharge of his ministerial duties as when in early manhood. When with him, I took myfirst preaching tour, and had myfirst debate. I went up the Connecticut river into Canada, and preached in most of the towns on both sides of the river. I performed the journey on foot, and must have walked about two hundred miles. In one town where I had an appointment, a Methodist minister had one at the same place and hour. We both met in the pulpit. He did not wish to speak, as he was unwell, he said, and desired me to occupy the time. I objected, for I was afraid of him; but as he insisted that I should go ahead, I deliveredmy discourse. My text was: “For if the word spoken by angels was steadfast, and every transgression and disobedience received a just recompense of reward, how shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation which at the first was spoken by the Lord, and confirmed unto us by them that heard him.” Heb. ii. 2, 3. As soon as I was through, he seemed to be well enough, took my text, and made a long reply to my feeble effort. He handled me rather rough, but I did the best I could in the way of a rejoinder, but felt that I had come outsecondbest. It was not manly in him, an experienced preacher, to attack a boy as he did; but I suppose he had rather encounter a boy than a man.
Soon after returning from this journey, I noticed a statement by Otis A. Skinner, a minister in Baltimore, Md., in one of our denominational papers, that several young men were wanted to preach in Maryland, and Mr. Balch advised me to go there. Heeding his advice, I went by stage across the Green Mountains to Albany, thence to New-York. In the latter place, I had the following conversation with an Englishman, right from his foggy island:
“I do not like this country,” said he.
“Why not?” I inquired.
“I have many reasons. One is, the people are not refined enough. I did not encounter as much coarseness during the thirty years I lived in England, as I have in this country the past six months.”
“You have been very unfortunate in the company you have kept. There are coarse people in all countries, and a man can eat and sleep with them all his lifetime if he chooses. But that there are more coarse people in this country than in England, I am sure is an error. But what do you mean by coarseness?”
“I mean that thepeasantsdo not pay proper respect togentlemen.”
“Yes, yes; I understand you. Why, sir, we have nopeasantsin this country;all are gentlemen.”
“I abhor such a democratic notion. Only see how rudely your people talk about the President of the United States. He is called Mr. Jackson, Old Jackson, Old Hickory. In Europe, we call the king, His Majesty. Don’t you see the difference?”
“I see the difference. The people of this country have little respect for titles, and I am thankful for it; but they have great respect forman; so much that they deem every man a sovereign; and I hope they will never make such fools of themselves as to single out one of their number, perhaps the biggest gump in the land, and bow down and worship him, and like cringing slaves, call him ‘His Majesty.’ God only is worthy the title of Majesty.”
In the cars near Baltimore, I had some conversation with a lawyer, concerning slavery.
“Are you going South?” he inquired.
“To Maryland. Am from the East, and was never as far south or west before.”
“As you are going into a slave-holding state, I should like to know your views of slavery.”
“In principle I think it is wrong; but I know little of its practical effects. I shall be better able to judge of it practically at some future time.”
“Morally I regard it wrong; nearly all the Southern people so view it. But that slavery is a benefit to the blacks, there can be no doubt. As an evidence of this, contrast the condition of the negroes in Africa with their condition in the Southern states. In this country they are far better off than their brethren are in Africa.”
“They doubtless are in some respects, but I am not sure that slavery has improved them. Living in this country, and associating, to some extent, with a superior race, has improved them; but I cannot admit that slavery has done it. You admit slavery to be an evil, and we have the best authority for asserting, that an evil tree cannot produce good fruit. It seemsto me that you condemn slavery inprincipleandpracticewhen you admit it to be an evil. What effect do you think it has on the whites?”
“Decidedly a beneficial effect. There is more refinement and high-toned character in the slave states than in the free states. The people in the South have leisure to cultivate the better sentiments of their nature.”
“I repeat, you must be mistaken. If slavery is a upas tree—is an evil as you admit—it cannot produce such heavenly fruit. It is not true that the Southern people are more intelligent, moral and refined than the Eastern people. Statistics, from which there can be no appeal, show that there are more school houses, academies, colleges and meeting houses in the East, than in the South, in proportion to the population. There are more persons in Virginia, the best of the slave states, who cannot read or write, than there are in six of the most Eastern states. Facts are against you.”
I proceeded to Baltimore, and S. P. Skinner, who afterwards resided, preached and published theNew Covenant, in Chicago, advised me to go to the eastern shore of Maryland. This portion of the state, and part of Delaware, lies between the Chesapeake and Delaware bays. Most of this neck of land is level and sandy, having been, at a comparatively recent period, reclaimed from the sea. Went in a small vessel to Centerville. While running down, I had some conversation, on religious subjects, with an Episcopal clergyman.
“The doctrine of endless punishment is taught in the Old Testament.”
“That is your opinion, but some of the wisest and most learned men of your school differ from you. I will read some extracts from their writings on this subject. Your Bishop Warburton, in his Divine Legation of Moses, says:—‘In the Jewish Republic,both the rewards and punishments promised by heaven were temporal only. Such as health, long life, peace, plenty, and dominion, etc. Disease, premature death, war, famine, want, subjections, and captivity, etc. And in no one place in the Mosaic Institutes is there the least mention, or any intelligible hint, of the rewards and punishments of another life.’
“Milman, in his History of the Jews, testifies thus:—‘The sanction on which the Hebrew Law was founded is extraordinary. The lawgiver (Moses) maintains a profound silence on that fundamental article, if not of political, at least of religious legislation—rewards and punishments in another life. He substituted temporal chastisements and temporal blessings. On the violation of the constitution followed inevitably blighted harvests, famine, pestilence, defeat, captivity; on its maintenance, abundance, health, fruitfulness, victory, independence. How wonderfully the event verified the prediction of the inspired legislator! how invariably apostasy led to adversity—repentance and reformation to prosperity!’
“Dr. Paley, another great man of your church, admits the same:—‘This (Mosaic) dispensation dealt in temporal rewards and punishments. In the 28th of Deuteronomy you find Moses, with prodigious solemnity, pronouncing the blessings and cursings which awaited the children of Israel under the dispensation to which they were called. And you will observe, that these blessings consistedaltogetherof worldly benefits, and these curses of worldly punishments.’
“Jahn, the best of authority says:—‘We have not authority, therefore, decidedly to say, that any other motives were held out to the ancient Hebrews to pursue good and avoid evil, than those which were derived from the rewards and punishments of this life.’
“This is the testimony of able and learned men who have made the Bible their life-study. Notwithstandingthey believed in eternal woe, they candidly admit that it is not taught by the great Lawgiver, Moses, or the prophets.”
“They do seem to think that doctrine is not taught in the Old Testament, and I admit their judgment is entitled to much respect. I will look into the subject.”
“I am glad to hear you express such a purpose. And I am sure that you will agree with those wise men, after a careful examination. If they are correct, and the dogma in question is true, is it not amusing that the Old Testament writers say nothing about it? If they had believed in eternal punishment, they surely would have spoken of it in distinct terms, and warned their countrymen of their danger. You believe in ceaseless woe, and you preach it faithfully, earnestly. You are right; you act according to your convictions. And were Moses and the prophets less faithful and earnest? But they did not speak of it, and the inference is, they had no faith in the doctrine. But, sir, if that dogma is true, would not God haveforcedthose inspired men to proclaim it to a dying world? Would God have permitted the Jews to be ignorant of so important a matter? What! thousands of immortal spirits daily dropping into a fiery gulf, and not a word of warning given? have no intimation of such a place till they find themselves in its fathomless vortex? Believe this who can, I cannot.”
I spent six months in this part of Maryland, traveling and preaching all the time. My head-quarters were at Salisbury, and from thence I went east, west, north and south, sometimes on foot, and sometimes on horseback. The liberal faith I advocated was almost totally unknown in that region. O. A. Skinner, who had resided in Baltimore, once traveled through there, and delivered a few discourses, but I found not more than a dozen persons, who knew or cared any thing about liberal christian sentiments.It was any thing but a favorable field for one so young and inexperienced as I was, to operate in. I was tired of traveling, and desired to settle where I could devote my time to two or three places, that I might have an opportunity to study, for I well knew my literary needs, and as such arrangements could not be effected in that region, I resolved to try some other locality. That my well intended labors had much effect, is more than I can affirm, as I have heard but little of the religious sentiments of the people since I left there. Much of the Eastern Shore is a very poor country, and were it not for the fish and oysters that abound in Chesapeake bay, part of that region would be an uninhabited desert, at least, till the soil was improved, for the farmers in those days merely scratched over the ground, and exhausted it more and more every year. Slave labor andscratch culture, I have observed, generally go together. And, I think it is a fact, that poor soil, unless there are counteracting causes, such as commerce and manufacturing, produces weak heads and sterile hearts; and it is also a fact, that the rich sentiments of our faith will not flourish permanently in physical or moral deserts. The apostles of our Lord spread the gospel among the ignorant and brutal nations of the earth, but how soon was it corrupted. Their “darkness comprehended it not,” and there was soon developed a wretched compound of light and darkness, error and truth, sin and virtue, life and death, heaven and hell, and this compound corresponded with the intellectual and moral culture of the people. Since Luther’s day, the process of disintegration has been going on, and it will, I trust, continue till the dross shall be all separated from the gold, and the former burned with unquenchable fire.
I returned to Baltimore in December, 1836. Encountered a terrific storm on the Bay, which came near sending the vessel and all on board to the bottom.It raged during a bitter cold night, the wind was directly ahead, and most every wave swept the deck fore and aft. The owner was on board, the steersman was his negro slave, and he stood to his post like a man the whole of that boisterous and cold night. In the morning we anchored in a sheltered situation, and during the day reached Baltimore. Spent several weeks traveling and preaching in the vicinity of the city, and from thence went to Hagerstown, Md., which I made my home for six months. Samuel A. Davis had labored in the vicinity some time previous, as a missionary, but receiving little encouragement, had moved to Pittsburg, Pa. I preached in Hagerstown, Woodville, Frederick, Sharpsburg, and many other places, in many of which I was the first to proclaim our beautiful faith, and encountered all sorts of opposition. Our ministers who have always labored where our cause is well established, have no idea of the mean and contemptible opposition a laborer encounters in a new field, where hardly any one knows any thing of our faith or its history. At the close of a sermon I delivered in Frederick, a clergyman of the place, arose and poured forth the vials of his wrath. He said Universalism was the lowest grade of infidelity, that the blasphemies of Tom Paine were purity itself compared to it; and that Universalists were the scum of society, that the grog-shops, gambling dens, jails and penitentiaries were full of them. Hosea Ballou and Walter Balfour died drunkards, and they were the best men the sect ever had. The fellow overshot the mark, and disgusted the people with himself; and the mild remarks I made after he got through, turned the tide in my favor. Ever after, I had large congregations in Frederick.
I spoke several times in Charleston, Va., where John Brown was hung; also in Harper’s Ferry, the place he so easily captured, and in Winchester, whereseveral battles, during the late rebellion, were fought. In Smithfield, Va., I had an exciting season. Went there an entire stranger, and delivered a discourse in a school-house, the first sermon on the great salvation ever delivered in the place. As soon as I said amen, up jumped three men to reply. It was with difficulty they agreed on which should first speak. They finally settled that matter, and then gave me particular attention. Each of them occupied about half an hour, and as the night was short, for it was an evening meeting, it was midnight when they got through. I notified the people that I would notice the arguments of the speakers the next evening. The novelty of my faith, and the attention I received from three of the most prominent men of the town, caused intense excitement, and the whole village, and the region round about, attended the next meeting. My three opponents, one doctor and two lawyers, were on hand, with paper and pencil, which was ominous of another attack. I noticed the arguments and proofs of the gentlemen, and replied to them in the best way I could. One of them had charged me with denying a judgment day. I stated that I believed in a judgment day, yea, in many judgment days. The Bible speaks of numerous judgment days, but they are allthis sideof the end of the world. When Adam and Eve were condemned and driven out of Eden’s bowers, it was a judgment day to them. When Cain was banished to the land of Nod, it was his judgment day. When the wrath of heaven burst on the world and destroyed all but Noah’s family, it was a terrible judgment day. The Sodomites experienced the horrors of a judgment day when they were destroyed by fire. The ten tribes of Israel, when they were banished to the far East, never to return, knew something of a day of judgment. When Babylon, Nineveh, and other mighty cities of the old world were destroyed, they sufferedthe desolations of judgment days. When Jerusalem was trodden under foot by the Babylonian power, and when subsequently it was burned up, ploughed up, and drenched with the blood of its citizens, did it not suffer, what the sacred writers call, days of darkness, of gloom, of judgment? The world has been crowded with judgment days: all nations and people have sadly experienced their sorrows. The Christian dispensation is also termed a day of judgment. It commenced when the kingdom of God was established on earth by the Son of the Highest, and will continue, till Jesus shall return the kingdom to God the Father, as recorded in 1st Corinthians 15th chapter, when God shall beall in all. It commenced amid sin, error, suffering and death, and when it shall end those evils will be known no more, but truth, virtue, life and immortality will be the universal and everlasting boon of Adam’s race.
As soon as I got through, a lawyer commenced reading a long chapter of quotations from the Bible, to prove that there was adevil. He had prepared it with much care, and read it loud and emphatically. It was supposed that a preacher or two in town helped him to his texts, and comments. When he closed, a doctor commenced an harangue, but I begged him to hold on till I had disposed of his brother’s sermon. I told the people that I believed inmany devils—lying, slanderous, revengeful, cruel, superstitious, sectarian devils; that every man was his own devil, and if any of my hearers should become vile and degraded, if they would look into a mirror, they would see a devil. But I had no faith in the devil the lawyer had been preaching about. As soon as I had finished my remarks, the doctor resumed his speech. He launched into the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, and did a large amount of special pleading, to show that the hell spoken of in that passage was a place of eternal woe. When he wasthrough, I asked him if he would answer a few questions. He replied that he would.
“Do you regard that passage to be a literal relation offacts?”
“I do.”
“Hell is there called aplace. Do you suppose it is a place having length, width and height?”
“Yes.”
“It is said to containfire. Do you believe it contains fire?”
“I do, for the passage says so.”
“The rich man and Lazarus were withinspeaking distanceof each other—they talked together. Do you think that heaven and hell are so near each other, that the saved can see the damned, and hear their groans and lamentations?”
“I am not bound to answer that question.”
“But you promised to answer my questions.”
Several voices—“You must answer”—“You are getting into a tight place.”
“Well, if I must answer it, I will say, Yes.”
“One more question. Could you be happy in heaven if you should see all the dear ones you now love, roasting in hell? Will you answer?”
“To be candid, I do not see how I could be happy.”
“I thank you for your candor. According to your interpretation of the passage, and it is the common interpretation, heaven and hell, the latter a region of quenchless fire, areneighbors, withinspeaking distance of each other, and mankind are to be torn asunder—part driven into hell, and part sent to heaven—husbands and wives divided, parents and children, brothers and sisters divided, part in heaven and part in hell, and those in heaven will know that half of the world are in hell, that their near and dear friends are there. Now, it is utterly impossible for there to be any happiness in heaven, when such a world of woeis within sight and hearing. The passage must be a parable—figurative language. Jesus often spake in parables. It is in connection with several parables, and like them is figurative. But I have not time this evening to give an explanation of it, but on to-morrow, Sunday, at eleven o’clock, will give what I regard to be the true exposition of that important passage.”
The discussion had a sensible effect on the hearers; some rejoiced and some were mad. One old gentleman, with streaming eyes, thanked me for what he had heard. But others were so enraged, that some of my friends feared that violent hands would be laid on me, ere I should reach the hotel, and I heard several cry, “Search his saddle-bags! he is a d——d abolitionist! get a rail!”
The next day my meeting was in a grove, for no house, that could be obtained, would hold half of the people who came out. My youth, the novelty of my faith, and the controversy, drew an immense concourse. The people listened with attention and respect, and the meeting was not disturbed by any opposition. I went to the village a stranger to all, but when I left, which was the next day, I had many friends.
I often preached in Harpers Ferry, and generally had large congregations. The town site, and its surroundings, are well known to be remarkably picturesque. The Shenandoah and Potomac, rapid streams, here unite, and roar and plunge through the chasm they have made through the Blue Ridge. The rocks on both sides are several hundred feet high, and nearly perpendicular. Thomas Jefferson said it was worth a voyage across the Atlantic to see this wonderful work of nature.
Near Hagerstown, I had a little controversy with a Campbellite preacher. We both had an appointment in abarn, and the people were eager to hear both ofus speak. He delivered a discourse on his peculiar views—dwelt long on the importance of water baptism, which he affirmed was a condition of salvation. In my discourse, I paid particular attention to his water-cure notions, and showed that if he was correct, none could be saved without being baptized in water, and therefore most of mankind would be lost forever, as but a small portion of our race are immersed. In his reply he said he did not believe in endless misery, but inannihilation, and admitted that he had no evidence of the salvation of a soul, old or young, in a christian or a heathen land, without water baptism. What a gospel! I rejoined. Instead of bringing life and immortality to light, it proclaimseternal deathto nearly the whole world; instead of being good news to our race, it is a howl of everlasting despair; instead of being a blessing to the world, it is an unmitigated curse; instead of its proclaiming that God is the loving Father of mankind, it announces that He is full of partiality and hatred towards most of His creatures. Never again prostitute that blessed word, gospel, by calling your partial, cruel and revengeful system by that dear name. There is not as much gospel in your creed as there is brain in a mosquito’s head.
One evening, I accompanied a friend to a Methodist meeting; the congregation was large, and a “revival” was raging in its midst. The first speaker spoke well and sensibly, but his words fell on dull ears and cold hearts. The second speaker was a regular son of thunder, and he did thunder, and storm, and quake, and he made some of his hearers do the same. When he got through with his “exhortation,” he kneeled and said, “Let us pray.” He prayed, and half of the assembly prayed with him. He raised his voice, and they raised theirs; he screamed like a maniac, and they did the same; he jumped up and down, and they jumped up and down. I lookedon with utter amazement, having never witnessed such a scene before. As soon as he had finished this part of the performance, he told all to rise to their feet, who wanted to go to heaven. I was the only one who did not stand up. “Rise to your feet,” said he, “or you will be damned.” I kept my seat, and though strongly tempted to rebuke him, I said nothing.
Near Charleston, Va., I attended, for the first time, a Methodist camp-meeting, and have not since been anxious to renew my acquaintance with such gatherings. It was held in a beautiful grove, and there were present some two thousand people, black and white. During the services, the whites were seated in front of the speaker’s stand, and the negroes in its rear. The speakers would talk awhile to their white brethren, and then turn on their heels and give the black brethren a broadside, and the latter always responded to the condescension of the preachers with a hearty shout. The night was the hour of promise; then they were almost sure of being blessed with copious showers of “grace.” Sunlight, it seems, is not favorable to its descent; it comes more plentifully with moonshine. The night I was on the ground, there were all sorts of manifestations of the “spirit.” Some laughed, others cried, groaned, and threw themselves on the ground. I noticed one poor fellow trying to climb a tree, and I asked him where he was going. “To heaven,” said he, and he kept scratching the tree with his finger and toe nails, for he was bare-footed. The preachers and the hearers generally, seemed to think all that hopping, jumping, shouting and screaming, was the work of God in converting the souls of the people. Every good thing can be abused, and thus become an evil. Religious excitement, when kept within due bounds, is productive of much good, but when it overleaps all bounds, and becomes temporary insanity, as it did on thisoccasion, it is prostituted to a very bad purpose. I spent a short time in the “preacher’s tent” where the following conversation ensued:
“John Wesley was opposed to such excitement as you have here.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the Presiding Elder; “that man of God was in favor of it, for he knew it was the work of the spirit of God, and I warn you to flee from the wrath to come, before it shall be eternally too late.”
“Do not get excited, my friend. Let us see what Wesley says about what you call the work of the Holy Spirit. In one of his volumes he speaks of the doings of Satan thus:—‘Satan strives to push many of them to extravagance. This appears in several instances:
“‘1. Frequently three or four, yea, ten or twelve, pray aloud together.
“‘2. Some of them, perhaps, may scream altogether, as loud as they can.
“‘3. Some of them use improper, yea, indecent expression in prayer.
“‘Several drop down as dead, and are as stiff as a corpse; but in a while they start up and cry, “glory, glory!” perhaps twenty times together. Just so do the French prophets, and very lately the Jumpers in Wales, bringing the real work into contempt.
“‘Scream no more at the peril of your soul. God now warns you by me. I never scream, I never strain myself; I dare not, I know it would be a sin against God and my own soul!
“‘Some very unstill sisters, who always took care to stand near me, and tried who could cry loudest, since I have had them removed out of my sight, they have been as quiet as lambs. The first night I preached here, one half of my words were lost through the noise of their outcries; last night, before I began, I gave public notice that whosoever cried as to drownmy voice, should, without man’s hurting or judging them, be gently carried to the farthest corner of the room, but my porters had no employment the whole night.
“‘There is a fervor which has passed for devotion, but it is not true, not scriptural devotion. It is loud shouting, horrid, unnatural screaming, repeating the same words twenty or thirty times, jumping two or three feet high, throwing about the arms and legs, both men and women, in a manner shocking not only to religion, but to common decency.
“‘I dislike,
“‘1. Speaking or praying of several at once.
“‘2. Praying to the Son of God only, or more than to the Father.
“‘3. The use of improper expressions in prayer.
“‘4. The using poor, flat, bald hymns.
“‘5. Those never kneeling in prayer. (They sat on the floor.)
“‘6. Your using postures or gestures highly indecent.
“‘7. Your screaming, so as to make the words unintelligible.
“‘8. Your affirming people will be justified or sanctified just now.
“‘9. The affirming they are where they are not.
“‘10. The bidding them, “I believe.”
“‘11. The bitterly condemning any that oppose, calling them wolves, etc., and pronouncing them hypocrites, or not justified!’
“These are Wesley’s words, and you have been doing here nearly all he so severely rebukes. What you call the work of God, he calls the work of Satan.”
“Let us pray,” said the Elder, with an awful groan. And such a prayer! It was not praying, but rather the ravings of a mad man, and the crowd raved with him. He called me the devil, and said I had slandered the sainted Wesley, and had come there to stopthe work of God. He beseeched the Lord, either to convert my soul or send me to hell. When he was through, I told him that his performance was more like the ravings of a maniac, than the simple prayer of a Christian, and bid him good by.
After spending six months in this region, traveling and preaching constantly, and seeing but slim prospect for establishing our cause permanently there, and receiving hardly any compensation for all my hard labor, and many privations, I resolved to go to Pittsburg, Pa. The truth is, I was much discouraged. I had labored one year in Maryland, and found but few sympathizers with me or my faith, and had not received fifty dollars for all my toil. I was tired of traveling, and longed for an abiding place where I could preach without being constantly on the wing, and where I could pursue my studies. I was not avaricious, but thought, as I devoted all my time to the ministry, I ought to be comfortably supported. I regretted having come to the state, and certainly should not have been there, had I known the religious character of the people, and how few friends we had in that region.