INFERENCES.
1. That the devil is not dead, but still lives, and is able to preach as well as ever, Ye shall not die on the day of transgression.
2. Orthodoxy is no new fangled scheme, but can boast of great antiquity.
3. See a reason why it ought to be rejected because it is an ancient devilish doctrine.
4. See a reason why satan is such a mortal enemy to the promises of the Bible, for it says, “Christ came to destroy the devil.” Heb. ii. “Will make an end of sin.” Dan. ix. “Behold the Lamb that taketh away the sin of the world.” “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the world.”
5. He hates the gospel, because it is “good news, glad tidings”—is the “glorious gospel of the blessed God”—“gospel of the grace of God”—“gospel of our salvation”—“gospel of peace.”
6. He hates the true Christ, because he will save the world from sin, error, and death. “We have seen and do testify that this is the Christ the Savior of the WORLD.” When the world shall be saved, satan’s occupation will be gone.
7. See whence it was that satan exerted himself so much to convince our first parents there was no punishment in this world, because the denunciation of the Almighty was true, and he was afraid that Adam and Eve would continue in the belief of it, and so not believe in endless punishment in eternity—his favorite doctrine. If there was no proof of present punishment, satan would not be so busy in trying to convince men that there was none.
8. We infer that ministers should not be proud of their preaching. If they preach the true gospel, they only in substance preach Christ’s sermons. If they preach, “Ye shall not surely die on the day of transgression,” they only make use of the devil’s old notes that he delivered about six thousand years ago.
9. It is probable that Orthodoxy will still prevail, since this preacher is still alive, and not in the least superannuated; and every effort against him only enrages him more and more, and excites him to new inventions and exertions to build up his cause.
To close the subject. As the author of this discourse has spoken of the character of satan, he trusts no one will feel himself personally injured by this short sermon. But should any imbibe a degree of friendship for this aged deceiver, and think that I have not treated this Orthodox preacher with that respect and veneration he justly deserves, let them be so kind as to point it out, and I will most cheerfully retract; for it has ever been a maxim with me, “Render unto all their due.”
This was too much for the three preachers present so they left in a hurry, when I reached the “inferences.” As they were marching out, I remarked, “The wicked flee when no man pursueth.” They intended an insult by throwing that tract in my face; but the new dress in which I returned their tract kindled their wrath; and leaving the house as they did, was an acknowledgment, that they were defeated. The congregation fully appreciated the “situation,” and two or three zealous hearers clapped their hands as the preachers were departing.
Mr. Lewis, with whom I debated in Springfield, sent me word, that if I should visit Jerseyville, Ill., his church would be at my service. Accordingly, I made an appointment in that place, and Mr. Lewis took a seat with me in the desk. I told him I was perfectly willing he should make any strictures on my discourse he might see proper. “Oh, no,” said he, “I have invited you into my pulpit, and it would not be proper for me to reply to your discourse.” In my sermon, I said nothing about other creeds, but presented my own faith in as clear a light as possible. Mr. Lewis, at my request, made the closing prayer, and such a prayer was never before or since heard, I think. He took up my discourse, item by item, systematically, and replied to it. He would first tell the Lord what the speaker had said on a given point, and then say, “O Lord, thou knowest that is not true, for by the mouth of the prophet Isaiah, thou said”—and then he would quote from the Bible. Having argued that point to his satisfaction, he would take up another subject; and so on till he got through with my discourse. Having finished his reply, I told the congregation I did not like that way of debating; but he said, “I would as soon debate on my knees as on my feet.” Before I left town, we made arrangements for a written discussion in the Golden Era. He was to write twelve letters; but, having written six of them he sickened and died. I called on him during his sickness, at Jacksonville, and he said, “Brother Manford, if I do not go to heaven this time, I will not work as hard as I have done. I have broken myself down by hard work—by trying to save souls.”
Soon after this, a Methodist clergyman of Indiana, by the name of Mahan, proposed having a written discussion in the Golden Era. He agreed to write twelve letters; but six or seven exhausted his resources. Subsequently, he tried his hand at discussion with B. F. Foster, in the Herald, and was handsomely defeated.
I made a long journey through Northern Missouri into Iowa; thence to St. Joseph; then down to Western, Kansas City, Independence, Lexington, Booneville, back to St. Louis. Traveled twelve hundred miles, all on horseback, and lectured most every day. In most of the towns and villages on this route I had no references, and generally wrote to the postmasters to make appointments. The principles of the liberal faith were entirely new to most of the people, and as notices of my meetings were published pretty extensively, large numbers attended, some going ten, twenty, and thirty miles. I had much controversy in public, and many conversations in private, concerning the new doctrines. Found some who received them with glad hearts, and many others who were disposed to investigate before they condemned. Received but little compensation for my labor and time, but obtained many subscribers for the paper.
Have room for only a few of the incidents of this journey. In Kirksville, a minister asked many questions, and finally came to the sage conclusion, that reason was carnal, that I was an emissary of the devil, and that he would say no more to me; but gave notice, that he should reply to my discourse the next Sunday. In Greentop, found a settlement of believers from Tennessee. They were excellent people; often visited them in subsequent years; but the war dispersed them, and I understand, they are scattered over the plains of Nebraska. Kirksville, near by, was one of the battle-fields of the rebellion; rebel Porter’s forces were there routed and ruined, and the town was much injured. Colonel Linder, one of my friends, was an active man in the Union cause. I traveled on what was called the “Mormon Trace,”—a road from Nauvoo to St. Joseph, the route the Mormons journeyed when they went from Nauvoo to Salt Lake. It was generally through a wild region, but the face of the country was rolling and pleasant. About sundown one day, I rode up to a cabin and inquired the distance to the next house.
“Ten miles.”
“Will you keep me to-night?”
“I reckon so; the old woman is powerful sick; I have a heap of ailments in my cabin.”
“Are there any settlements up the creek?”
“Oh, yes; right smart sprinkling.”
There were fifteen men and women belonging to the house, and how we were all to be disposed of that night, was rather a puzzler to me, as there were only two rooms in the cabin; but there was really no difficulty on that score. The principal room answered four valuable purposes, although it was not more than twenty feet square—it was a kitchen, dining-room, sitting-room, and bed-room. True, there were only two bedsteads in it, but when bed time arrived, the floor was covered with blankets, which afforded ample sleeping accommodations. I was conducted into the “parlor bed-room,” which was entirely void of all “modern improvements.” It was made of round logs, without any weather-boarding, plastering, ceiling, or “chinking;” the stars could be seen through its sides and roof, while its floor was clay, covered about six inches deep with water. In one corner of the pen some stakes were driven into the mud, rails fastened to them, on which a straw bed was laid, with a blanket or two. That was my bed; no, not mine, but our bed; for soon a big fellow stretched himself on one side of me, and he was followed by another, who laid about six feet of flesh and bone across the foot of the bed. I was tired, and slept first-rate all night, and crawled out of the den in the morning much refreshed.
Mine host said he had been on the frontier all his life; did not own the land he occupied—was a squatter—and wanted to sell his “improvements,” to go farther west, where he could hunt bear and buffalo. He said he was a Baptist; and when I told him of my faith, he declared he did not want to go to heaven if all sinners are to go there.
“But no sinners will go there; they will be regenerated.”
“Don’t tell me that; the reprobates will not be regenerated; their doom is sealed. I have grace in my soul, and know I am right.”
When I offered to pay him for keeping me, he replied, “You are welcome; the fare was hard, but if you come this way again, give me a call.”
A day or two after this, I rode with a negro a few hours. He was returning from visiting his wife and children.
“Why do you not live with your family?”
“Master won’t sell me to my wife’s master, so I live twenty miles from her.”
“How often do you see her?”
“’Bout once a month.”
“Did you ever have another wife?”
“Yes; but her master died, and she was taken south, and the children.”
“Have you heard since of her, and the children?”
“No; don’t know whar they are; may be dead.”
“Perhaps this wife and these children will be sold south.”
“I hope I may die if they be.”
“Why do you not buy your freedom?”
“Master won’t sell me. I offered him a thousand dollars, and pay him in five years, but he would not sell me. Black men can’t do anything.”
“Are you treated well?”
“Yes; but I work hard; but I would not mind that if my family were with me.”
“Where are you from?”
“Virginia; left thar many years ago.”
“Where are your parents?”
“Sold south, long ago.”
“Where are your brothers and sisters?”
“Don’t know whar they are; sold to a trader.”
“Do you belong to any church?”
“I belong to the Methodist church, and try to preach.”
“How often do you preach?”
“Most every Sunday.”
“In how many places?”
“Four places.”
“Are you paid for preaching?”
“The black people pay me a little.”
“Do you think your white master will go to heaven?”
“Why, yes.”
“Do you think slavery is right?”
“I can’t think it is.”
“How then can you think slave-holders can be saved?”
“I don’t know how, but I sort of think some of them will be saved.”
“Would you not save all white men and all black men if you could?”
“That I would.”
“Will not God save them all?”
“Why, no.”
“Then you are better than God, are you?”
“Why, master, who ever heard of God saving all men? Now, I think of it, a man is to preach in Gentryville to-night, who preaches that very doctrine, and I am bound to hear him.”
“What do the people say about him?”
“They say he is a bad man, and I believe he is, or he would not preach such a doctrine.”
Here the negro left me to go to his home, and I saw him at the window of the school-house that evening, the picture of astonishment. Met him in the street the next day, and he said, “Master, forgive me for what I said yesterday.”
Lectured in Weston, and became acquainted with Thomas Abbott, who was residing and preaching in that place. He subsequently moved to St. Louis, and for several years past has resided in Mt. Vernon, Ind. He obeys the injunction, “Go and preach.” He does go, far and near; he labors in season and out of season, in his Master’s service. He has also become a noted debater, and has had great success in preaching and debating.
On the other side of the Missouri was Kansas Territory, inhabited then only by Indians, but now is a populous state, with several large cities. While I was in Lexington on this journey, or at a subsequent time, two negroes were hung for murdering their owner. He had whipped them unmercifully, and they killed him for it. They rode from the prison to the gallows, through the principal streets of town, in a wagon, on their coffins; white hoods were on their heads, white frocks were thrown over their shoulders, and large ropes were around their necks. On the road to the gallows, the poor creatures sang as loud as they could scream,
“I am bound for the kingdom;
Will you go to glory with me?”
This scene, take it all in all, was the most abominable, outrageous, and disgusting exhibition I ever witnessed. “What do you think of that?” said I to a Methodist preacher, who was looking on with a satisfied air. “The majesty of the law must be sustained.” That same fellow was a hot headed rebel when the war broke out. His name was Kavanagh; he formerly resided in Indiana. The town was full of negroes; but they were silent; I saw tears in many of their eyes.
After publishing the Golden Era four years, I disposed of it to Thomas Abbott, and he soon after connected it with the Gospel Herald, a paper published in Indianapolis, Ind. It was being issued weekly when it was sold; but I found, by experience, that a weekly paper of our denomination could not be sustained in St. Louis, the expense of publishing, and of living being so high. While I issued the paper, I received hardly any compensation for all my toil; and Mrs. Manford did all her work gratuitously, and I could not have hired a person to do what she did for less than five hundred dollars per year.
The Golden Era had done a good work, and it was like parting with a dear friend to dispose of it. Its circulation when it went out of my hands, was thirty-five hundred, I think. Its name had become quite popular. Captain Bursie, who was a subscriber, named his splendid new steamer, “The Golden Era,” and Bridges Brothers, of St. Louis, who were also subscribers, called a cooking stove they patented, “The Golden Era.”
But I did not cease working for the good cause when the paper was disposed of; I rather worked harder than ever. For about two years I was absent most of the time, preaching in Missouri, Illinois, Iowa and Indiana.
Mrs. Manford was also in the field lecturing, not on theology, but on temperance, the elevation of woman, and general education. She delivered some excellent lectures on those subjects in Louisiana, Hannibal, Macomb, and other places. Let woman speak as well as man in the lecture-room, and even in the pulpit; let her speak on all subjects of human interest. As she belongs to the human family, she is as much interested as man in all intellectual and moral subjects. And heaven, having gifted her with a soul, instinct with wisdom, purity and goodness, she is well qualified to instruct and moralize her race. I know it is quite fashionable for men to flatter women by calling them their “better half,” “angel,” but to be indignant and disgusted if they aspire to a position outside of the kitchen or nursery. Such men are very polite to women in the street and drawing-room, but are wrathy if they will not be their drudges or play things. As woman is a citizen of the world as well as man, she is entitled to all the rights and privileges he is entitled to. The world should be open to her intellectual and moral activities, that she may make the best use of her time and talent. Let her “sue and be sued,” buy and sell, vote at the polls, and be president of these United States, if she can get votes enough. England’s best rulers have been queens, and why would not American women make good presidents?
Antiquated, and barbarous laws and customs, that have for ages degraded woman, are being modified or abandoned; and the day is not far distant when she will fill the place in society that God designed, and humanity requires. But it must not be expected that she will come from the wash-tub, or band-box, in the one place a slave, and in the other a pet, prepared fully for her new position and responsibilities. She may long make many blunders, and for a time illy perform her part, all of which many self-conceited, and self-appointed, “lords of creation” will point to and triumphantly exclaim, “Did I not tell you women were only fit for man’s convenience?”
I spent three months in the southwest part of Missouri, traveling on a circuit I established in that region. Preached monthly in twenty-five places, and rode from ten to forty miles nearly every day. Tried to get a minister to continue the work but failed. Good societies could have been established in Booneville, Georgetown, Calhoun, Clinton, Oseola, Leesville, Warsaw, Pisgah, Rocheport—places I visited. I also spent six months traveling and preaching in the northern part of the state. Visited twenty-two places monthly for six months, and rode most every day. Spent three days each month at home. I also failed in my effort to induce a minister to locate in that region. Clergymen of the liberal faith, residing in the free states, were averse to moving into Missouri, it then being a slave state. They were not only generally opposed to slavery, regarding it as “the sum of all villainy,” but they had no faith our cause could be permanently established among slave-holders. They thought that human slavery and Universalism were eternally and universally at war with each other.
The winters of 1855 and ’56 were about the coldest ever experienced in the West, and I spent both winters in Iowa, traveling and lecturing. Often rode on horseback all day when the thermometer was far below zero, and delivered a long discourse at night. The Iowa prairies are cold places in a cold day, especially to one whose face is northward. If I had twenty, thirty, or forty miles to ride, I always made it a rule not to go near a fire till I had finished my day’s travel. Some men I have rode with, must warm themselves by a fire, whenever they get a little cold, and swallow perhaps a dram of liquor; and I noticed that they always suffered much more from cold than I did. The best method for a traveler, in an arctic day, to get up an internal heat, is, not by whisky, not by sitting by a fire a few moments, but by thrashing his arms, swinging his legs, or running a short distance by the side of his horse.
I had a public discussion in Quincy, Ill., with a Methodist preacher, which continued four days. Large numbers attended, and much good was effected. The day after the discussion closed, which was Sunday, a society was organized, and soon after a meeting-house was erected. The society prospered for awhile, under the ministry of J. H. Hartzell, now of Buffalo, N. Y. But he leaving, it was finally disbanded, and the meeting-house sold, and many of its members united themselves with the Unitarian society of the place. Quincy is a flourishing town, on the east bank of the Mississippi river, and is growing rapidly in importance. The river will probably be bridged there within a few years.