In the brush

by Hamilton W. Pierson

CHAPTER X.

SOME STRANGE EXPERIENCES WITH A CANDIDATE IN THE BRUSH.

Having made arrangements with Father E——, a venerable and faithful Bible-distributor, to canvass a very rough, wild country, I determined to visit the county-seat, and address as many of the people as could be assembled. I did this for the purpose of explaining to them that the entire State and country were being canvassed in this manner, for the purpose of supplying every family that would receive it with a copy of the Bible, either by sale or gift. As they had been so much imposed upon by wandering peddlers, I found it very important to explain to them that it was not a money-making enterprise—that the books sold were furnished to them at cost. It was also my invariable custom to solicit a collection for the Bible Society, wherever I preached, however poor the people might be. It increased their self-respect to give them this opportunity to aid in supplying their own destitute poor with the Word of God.

My ride to B——, the county-seat, was through a rough, wild, and broken region. This may be judged from the fact that the average value of the land, improved and unimproved, of the entire county, as returned by the assessors, and published in the Report of the Auditor of the State for the preceding year, was but one dollar and seventy-nine cents per acre. Even this was a little more valuable than the land of an adjoining county that I explored most thoroughly, the average value of which, as published in the same Report, was one dollar and seventy-four cents per acre. Yet these counties had been settled more than fifty years.

Arriving at the little village, a perfect stranger, my first inquiry was for some professor of religion who would be likely to take an interest in my work, and aid me to make arrangements, if possible, to preach there the following Sabbath. I was directed by my host to call on the school-master of the place, whom I found to be an old man more than sixty years of age, who gave me a warm welcome, and cheerfully rendered me the desired aid. Upon inquiry, we learned that the court-house, which was the place used by all denominations for preaching, would not be occupied the next Sabbath, and accordingly it was arranged that a notice should be circulated that I would preach there on that day, at 4 P.M. This accomplished, I left the village to attend to other duties, and await the Sabbath.

As there was no newspaper at this county-seat, and but a very few families resided there, and only a few days intervening, the uninitiated in southwestern backwoods life will wonder how the people in the adjacent hills and valleys were to be notified of this service and a congregation assembled. But I had been long enough in the Brush to have no apprehensions upon this point. I knew that they would not only all be notified for miles around, but that the most of them would be present. I have found by experience that it is one of the peculiarities of the wilder and wildest portions of the country, that the people will be at the greatest possible pains to notify their neighbors far and near whenever a stranger will preach, whatever may be the day of the week or the hour of the day.

I have frequently arrived at a solitary log-cabin, late in the afternoon, after a wearisome day's ride through a rough, wild, mountainous region, and almost as soon as I had made myself known as a preacher, they would say:

"Can't you preach for us here to-night?"

"Oh, yes," I have replied; "but I have seen very few cabins for a long way back, and I can't understand where the congregation is to come from."

"We know that," they have rejoined; "but there's a heap of people scattered over these hills, and if you will agree to preach for us to-night, you will be sure to have a houseful."

As soon as my assent was given, father, sons, and daughters have started off in different directions to notify the nearest neighbors, who immediately abandoned their work to inform other and more distant neighbors. In this manner all the families over a wide extent of country would be notified in a short time. Nearly all would abandon their work, and with it all thought of supper until they should return, and, taking their children with them, would start at once for the place appointed for the preaching. In such cases I have never failed to have the promised houseful. Indeed, I have traveled on horseback over wide regions of country, where, had I sufficient health and strength, I could have preached every night to a new congregation assembled as thus described.

I returned to B——, and reached the court-house at the appointed hour. The announcement that they would be addressed by a preacher from L——, the largest city in the State, had drawn together an unusually large audience. Before commencing the services, I was introduced to the county judge, who was also a Baptist preacher. He, with others, had been informed of my coming, and kindly came to the county-seat, and gave me the sanction and aid of both his ministerial and judicial presence. He very naturally assumed the position of master of ceremonies, and introduced me to his Christian brethren and "fellow-citizens," who not only honored him as their spiritual shepherd, but had elevated him by their suffrages to his judicial position. He politely escorted me to the judge's seat, which was my pulpit, and sat with me there during the services. This "seat" was simply a high, narrow platform at the end of the room, extending entirely across the court-house, with a railing in front of it, and supplied with benches and a few chairs.

I can not here adopt the very common and convenient expedient of writers, and say that the dress and general appearance of my congregation can be more easily imagined than described. In sober truth, kind reader, granting to your imagination the very highest power, I am constrained to believe that you are entirely unequal to this task. There was very little if any foreign texture there. Their dresses, coats, and other garments had, almost without exception, been spun on their own wheels, woven in their own looms, dyed in butternut from their own hills, and made and fashioned in accordance with their own taste without consulting any fashion-plates. As they were bound by no rules, there was variety, and there were very marked displays of originality. Best of all, there was comfort, and patriotic instincts were gratified by the exhibition of domestic fabrics. It was a rare display of woolsey.

In addressing such an audience the speaker was always gratified and rewarded by the closest attention. I have never seen such listeners as the people in the Brush. They gave a speaker not only their ears but their eyes, and their whole attention. They seemed unwilling to lose a word that he uttered; they yielded themselves to his power. Their faces moved and glowed responsive to his sentiments; and his own mind was animated and enkindled by this sympathy of his audience. I suppose the chief reason of this very marked attention was the fact that the most of these people read very little, and very many of them could not read at all. Hence they acquired the most of their information on all subjects, religious and secular, by being good listeners. Preachers and politicians, the pulpit and the stump, were their chief sources of education. The school and the press were comparatively powerless. Political, theological, and all other controverted questions were settled in the minds of the people by oral discussions. Henry Clay once presided over a theological discussion between the Rev. Alexander Campbell, the founder of the sect popularly known as "Campbellites," and the Rev. Dr. N.L. Rice, of the Presbyterian Church, which was continued through several days, and attended by a large concourse of people. This debate was but a type of hundreds, probably of thousands, that have been held in all parts of the Southwest. Let either a Calvinist or an Arminian challenge the other to discuss the question of the "Perseverance of the Saints," or "Falling from Grace," and, however remote and wild the region, the people for miles around would abandon work and business, and attend for days upon the discussion. Such debates on the question of Baptism have drawn crowds together in this manner times without number. Any petty lawsuit would bring together the most of the people in the neighborhood, to hear the speeches of the opposing pettifoggers or lawyers. County and circuit-court days were the great days of the year, when the people left their homes en masse, and went up to the county-seat in neighborhood cavalcades, and hour after hour, and day after day, listened to the speeches of the opposing counsel. In cases of unusual interest and excitement, such as a murder trial, I have known a very general turnout of the wives and daughters, and have seen them sit for hours together and listen to such speeches. As already described in a previous chapter, political discussions on all questions, State and national, were still more universal and popular, and stump-speeches delivered to these crowds did more to decide the minds of the people in regard to the questions discussed than newspapers and all other causes combined.

This fondness of the people for public discussion, and speeches upon all sorts of subjects, and the remarkable attention they give to a speaker, have done very much to develop the peculiar and often very remarkable oratory that prevailed in these wild regions. Their speakers were so stimulated by the attention given them, and by the visible effects produced by their words, as to draw out all their powers. While they molded the minds and opinions of the people, the people molded their peculiar style of oratory. They acted and reacted upon each other.

It is impossible for a man to become animated and eloquent in addressing an inattentive, listless, stolid audience. I remember hearing in New England a story of the olden time, when, to avoid cooking a Sunday dinner, a pan of pork and beans was put into the hot brick oven, after taking out the bread and pies that were generally baked on Saturday afternoons. The pork and beans were baked in this manner, and taken from the oven for the Sunday dinner. An old divine, remarkable for his eloquence and wit, on one occasion "exchanged" with a brother clergyman whose parish was noted for the production of white beans.

"How did you like preaching for my people?" said the latter, as the two met some time afterward.

"It did very well in the morning," said the witty divine; "but in the afternoon it was exactly like preaching to so many bags of baked beans."

It is not at all strange that in these times there are a good many dull pulpits. There are so many audiences that, either from their minds being absorbed with business or other thoughts, or from sheer mental and physical stupidity, are as irresponsive and as little stimulating to a speaker as "so many bags of baked beans."

But I had no such fault to find with my audience on this occasion. Had there been any inattention, the fault would have been my own. The fact that I hailed from the great city to which they sent their tobacco and other products—the Jerusalem of their affection and State pride—was of itself sufficient to secure me a most respectful and attentive hearing. I had proceeded with the services, and was about half through my sermon, when a gentleman entered the open door of the court-house, halted for a time upon the threshold, and gazed at me for some moments with that excited and intense earnestness with which a stranger is regarded in those regions, where the presence of a stranger is a rare occurrence. He wore a black broadcloth suit, and his appearance and bearing indicated a professional rather than a laboring man of that region. The sheriff's seat was close to the door, at his right hand, and this was occupied by my friend, the venerable school-master of the village, to whom I have before alluded. Turning to the school-master, he plied him with questions for some time, which he evidently answered with great reluctance as he kept his eyes constantly upon me, giving the closest attention to my sermon. At length he turned his head from him, as far as possible, and refused to answer his questions. I had no doubt, from appearances, that in this pursuit of knowledge under difficulties he was seeking information in regard to the preacher he had come upon so unexpectedly. After standing in the door and listening to me for some time, he very deliberately folded his arms, dropped his head in an apparently meditative mood, and promenaded back and forth before me from one side of the court-house to the other. The ladies and a part of the men were within the bar. The rest of the audience were on seats outside the bar, against the walls, and in the windows, so that there was ample room for this promenade over the brick floor in the space between the bar and the seats against the wall. I had had too wide and varied an experience in addressing audiences to be seriously disturbed by this somewhat unusual proceeding, and, as the audience gave me the strictest possible attention, I continued my sermon, and my abstracted friend continued his promenade and his meditations. At length, tossing up his head suddenly, he whirled about, and, moving with a rapid step, marched across the room, passed within the bar, ascended to the Judge's seat, and sat down on a bench at my left hand. After sitting here a while, he lay down and stretched himself at full length upon the bench. Finally he sprang to his feet suddenly, and, evidently supposing that I was concluding my sermon, stepped in front of me, elbowed me back as gracefully as such a thing could well be done in such circumstances, and, bowing profoundly to the audience, he said:

"There is a fine crowd here, and I believe I will make a speech."

This was too much for the patience of my audience, and was greeted by a general and indignant shout of "Sit down! Sit down! Sit down!" from nearly every one present, several of the brethren rising to their feet, prepared to enforce order by physical force if necessary. My clerical friend the Judge, who was sitting on my right, arose with them, and, in the name of law and order, commanded him to take his seat, reminding him of the severe legal penalty for disturbing religious worship. Meanwhile I stood a silent and passive spectator of the scene.

During my sermon I had been struck with the very marked attention of a rather short, compactly built man, with very keen, black eyes, who seemed all unconscious of his very singular attitude. He was in the window, at my left, nearest the Judge's seat, and had sat through the sermon, squatted upon his heels, leaning his back against the window-jam, looking directly into my face, and listening to every word that I uttered with the most gratified and animated interest. He was among the first to spring to his feet, and stood in the window, his black eyes flashing fire, and evidently more than willing to supplement the Judge's words by any acts that might be necessary to restore order.

A candidate's unsuccessful effort to make a speech.

Order was, however, restored without force. My friend with a speech to make reluctantly resumed his seat. I resumed and concluded my sermon, and was, in the vernacular of the people, about to "lift a collection" for the Bible Society. At this point my oratorical friend sprang in front of me, and exclaimed, with great vehemence:

"There is a fine crowd here, and I am going to make a speech. I won't be put down by Judge Locke, this man from L——, or anybody else."

This was the signal for the wildest possible excitement. Every man, woman, and child in the audience sprang to their feet, all shouting at the top of their voices,

"Sit down! Sit down! Sit down!"

One immensely tall and large woman at my right, head and shoulders above the group of sisters by whom she was surrounded, with an indescribable bonnet of the largest old-time pattern and a dress of home-made woolsey, in the excess of her excitement and rage, jumped up and down, whirling completely around and jerking her head like a snapping-turtle, and shouted at the top of her voice, which rang sharp and shrill above the general roar,

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

My friend with the fiery black eyes leaped at a single bound from his perch on the window-sill to the Judge's seat, and seizing the intruder by the collar, jerked him in an instant to the floor below, where he was reënforced by other zealous brethren, among them my host, who was sitting at the opposite end of the room, and together they "snaked" him out of the house in much quicker time than I had ever seen such a feat performed before. The quickness of the whole transaction was wonderful. A part of them took him to the jail, which was but a few yards distant, where he was locked up. Order being again restored, the hats were passed, and I received a collection amounting to about five dollars.

As soon as I pronounced the benediction, the people crowded around me and expressed their intense mortification and sorrow at these occurrences.

"We've got a pretty bad name here anyway," said one, "and if any such thing happens, it is always sure to be when there is a stranger here from a long way off."

"I don't want to fight," said my friend with the fiery black eyes, "any more."

The reverend Judge and the brethren and sisters, one after another, gave expression to their deep humiliation, and my fiery friend kept stepping about nervously, and repeating over and over, half to himself and half to me:

"I don't want to fight any more."

At length, shutting his fist, and bringing it down emphatically, he said:

"I don't want to fight any more. But I won't see religion abused anyway. I will fight for my Master."

Looking at his closely knit, compact form, his quick, vigorous movements, and his flashing eyes, I could read in his "any more" the story of many a fierce fight before his conversion—which I could not now doubt was genuine.

At length I inquired who the gentleman was that had made the disturbance, and had been so suddenly locked up in jail. I confess I was somewhat surprised to be informed that he was a lawyer and candidate for prosecuting attorney for the county. This was the first Sunday in August. The election was to come off on the following Monday. He had been making speeches in different parts of the county every day for two or three weeks before. It was very evident that he was not a teetotaler, though, as I afterward learned from himself, he entertained a very high regard for temperance as a theme for oratorical display.

I learned that before sundown his opponent in the canvass magnanimously interposed in his behalf and bailed him out of jail, being chivalrously unwilling to profit by his enforced absence from the polls from such a cause on the ensuing election-day.

After breakfast the next morning, I concluded to walk over to the court-house and see how the election progressed. As soon as I entered the yard, a "sovereign" whom I had not seen before approached me, with a large water-bucket in one hand and a quantity of quarters, dimes, and other change in the other, which he shook before me, and said:

"We are agoing to have a general treat, stranger; would you like to throw in?"

I declined as politely as possible, and he passed on to the tavern to expend the proceeds of his collection for a pail of whisky. "A general treat" is where the whisky is purchased by a "general collection" taken in this way, and put into a water-bucket or larger vessel, and all parties come forward and help themselves with a gourd dipper. A general treat so early in the morning gave promise of a lively day. As I entered the court-house door, my friend the candidate recognized me, and advancing with the most consequential air, and bowing with a great deal of assumed dignity, he said:

"I believe, sir, you are the gentleman from L—— that preached here yesterday?"

I replied, "Yes, sir."

"Well, sir," said he, "I wish to apologize to you. I very much regret what occurred. I came into the court-house, and saw that there was a very fine crowd, and I concluded that I would deliver them a temperance speech. I have a very fine one that I have delivered in Cincinnati, Louisville, and St. Louis, that I was agoing to give them, but they hauled me out like a dog. I am a candidate for commonwealth attorney, sir, and I suppose the affair will injure me somewhat in this precinct; but I think, stranger, that I shall make the race."

Passing through another part of the county some days afterward, I learned that, sure enough, he did "make the race," being elected by a large majority.

It is but simple justice for me to add that, in all my extended travels in the Southwest, this is the only instance where I have had the slightest interruption in the discharge of my professional duties. I have uniformly had that kind, cordial, and hospitable reception for which the people are so justly famed. All my readers will understand that whisky was the sole cause of this exceptional case.