THE FIRST EDUCATIONAL EFFORT.
By this is not meant that no interest in the education of the race had been manifested prior to this. The education of Bishop Burns, alone, would refute such an idea. But the Church began to see and feel that something on a larger scale ought to be done for the higher education of the colored youth within the Church. The very idea points out the fact that the Church saw for her colored members a better day coming. At the General Conference above mentioned, Wilberforce University, now in the hands of our brethren of the African Church, at Xenia, Ohio, was purchased by a number of individuals, and was under the patronage of the Cincinnati Conference of our Church, and was “devoted to the higher education of colored youth.” Rev. J. F. Wright, D.D., its efficient agent, presented its claims to the General Conference. He traveled in its interest, and it continued to flourish. Rev. R. S. Rust, D.D., became president of this institution in 1859. Our brethren of the African Church began to feel the need of a better educated ministry, and having no outlook for such an institution turned their attention toward this institution. Bishop D. A. Payne, having formed the acquaintance of President Rust, began negotiations for the transfer of that property to the African Methodist Episcopal Church; and, in 1863, it accordingly “passed into their hands for a nominal sum.” Thus the beginning of the educational work in the African Methodist Episcopal Church was but the outgrowth of the generosity of the Methodist Episcopal Church toward the colored race, whether within or without the Church. It is true that but little, if any, credit is ever given to the Church that was represented in the matter by our own Dr. R. S. Rust. They sometimes—and Bishop Payne all the time—mention gratefully his name, but no public acknowledgment by that Church has yet been made to us for the advantages given them in this transaction; and hence many a student, who has attended there, has gone away ignorant of these facts. That transaction is but another proof of the fact that but little, if any, opposition or rivalry has ever been allowed from our Church toward their Church.
NEW ORLEANS UNIVERSITY—MAIN BUILDING.
It did seem that, ecclesiastically as well as politically, “Providence had wisely mingled their cup.” When one phase of the question touching slavery had been met, another phase developed. If ecclesiasticism met this “sum of all villainies” in its way, and struck it down, leaving it wounded, bleeding, and dying, it would, phœnix-like, the next day appear in the political field. Like “Banquo’s ghost,” it would not down at the bidding. The General Conference of 1856 had hardly adjourned before the political world was startled by the case of a colored man—Dred Scott—which was brought before the courts for decision. The appeal was brought up to the Supreme Court. Chief Justice Taney, speaking for the court, declared in this case that “Negroes, whether free or slaves, are not citizens of the United States, and they can not become such by any process known to the Constitution.” This decision caused a ripple, not only on the sea of politics, but over the placid stream of Methodism; for it must not appear or be considered egotism when it is said nothing relating to the interests of the colored man has transpired in this country in which Methodism did not take part. And yet, as strange as it may appear, the Church has always objected to mixing politics with religion; but believing the converse admissible, our Church papers began to wage war in favor of this colored man, as if he had been a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church.
This excitement had not subsided when Abraham Lincoln, as the nominee of the Republican party, was elected President of the United States. The relation our Church sustained to that conflict will be better understood when it is remembered that Torrey and Lovejoy, the two martyrs to the Abolition cause, were New England ministers; that the New England Methodists very early identified themselves with this cause, and poured hot shot into the foul slave oligarchy. As early as June 4, 1835, the New England Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church had organized an anti-slavery society—not simply a non-partisan, namby-pamby sort of a stay-at-home-and-pray society, but active, vigilant, and progressive—on the basis of the immediate and unconditional abolition of slavery. North Bennett Street Methodist Episcopal Church, in Boston, was opened in that year for Rev. George Thompson to preach a sermon against slavery. William Lloyd Garrison spoke of that meeting as follows:
“In these days of slavish servility and malignant prejudices, we are presented occasionally with some beautiful specimens of Christian obedience and courage. One of these is seen in the opening of the North Bennett Street Methodist Episcopal meeting-house in Boston to the advocates for the honor of God, the salvation of our country, and the freedom of enslaved millions in our midst. As the pen of the historian, in after years, shall trace the rise, progress, and glorious triumph of the Abolition cause, he will delight to record, and posterity will delight to read, that when all other pulpits were dumb, all other churches closed on the subject of slavery in Boston, the boasted ‘cradle of liberty,’ there was one pulpit that would speak out, one Church that would throw open its doors in behalf of the downtrodden victims of American tyranny, and that was the pulpit and Church above alluded to. The primitive spirit of Methodism is beginning to revive with all its holy zeal and courage, and it will not falter until all the Methodist Churches are purged from the pollution of slavery, and the last slave in the land stands forth a redeemed and regenerated being.”
Notwithstanding the above, such Methodist ministers as Rev. Gilbert Haven and others kept the ball rolling. It is said of one of our bishops: “Throughout the late contest 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.” Is it any wonder, then, that the Church, in one way or the other, was connected with nearly every effort for the emancipation of the slaves? Therefore the eighteenth session of the General Conference that convened in the city of Buffalo, May, 1860, was anticipated with much anxiety.
The great debate on the question of slavery at the last General Conference had, during this entire quadrennium, proven sufficient to keep up the agitation all along the line. Dr. Abel Stevens, then editor of the Christian Advocate, addressed an “Appeal” to the general Church “concerning what the next General Conference should do on the question of slavery.” This appeal aimed simply to have the next General Conference declare “the sense of the Church on the whole subject,” with “a note, put in the margin of the General Rule,” that declared “the only cases of slaveholding admissible to our communion are such as are consistent with the Golden Rule.” Drs. Nathan Bangs and J. H. Perry, at the head of a “Ministers’ and Laymen’s Union,” formed within the New York Conference in 1859, and the Anti-slavery Society, with Dr. Curry leading, hurled their anathemas against Dr. Stevens’s proposition. Resolutions favoring a new rule on slavery, prior to the General Conference of 1860, were voted upon as follows: Cincinnati, 319 votes for, 1,212 votes against it; Providence, 1,242 for, and 1,329 votes against it; Erie, 1,795 for, and 1,416 votes against it. It was conceded that the cause of human liberty would receive a fresh impetus from the ringing speeches that would be delivered, and from the solid resolutions that would be passed at that General Conference. Accordingly two classes of petitions were presented: “Those asking for the extirpation of slavery from the Church,” and “those asking that no change be made in the Discipline on the subject of slavery.” A special committee was ordered to receive resolutions of this kind. There was also appointed “a Committee on our Colored Membership.” Several memorials and petitions from our colored membership were presented. After due consideration, notwithstanding the excitement on account of the agitation of the question of slavery, that committee reported as follows:
“The Committee on Colored Membership, to which were referred certain memorials from colored local preachers, respectfully represent: That having examined said memorials, they find that they request this body, (1) To extend the bounds of the conference of colored local preachers, called in accordance with the provisions introduced into the Discipline at the last General Conference; (2) To grant them the power to try and expel their own members; (3) To confer upon the conference of colored local preachers power to elect to deacons’ and elders’ orders; (4) To invest said conference with all the powers of a regular annual conference; (5) To admit colored preachers to membership in our annual conferences. Your committee find that the first two objects prayed for are, in substance, covered by provisions already existing in the Discipline, which appear to have been overlooked by the petitioners. In regard to items three and four, referred to above, your committee find that the prayer of the memorialists could not be granted without doing violence to our usages and Disciplinary regulations. The fifth item embraced in the memorials before us was withdrawn by the representative of the petitioners, who appeared in person before the committee. In view of the whole of the foregoing, your committee recommend that the whole subject be dismissed. All of which is respectfully submitted.
“S. Y. Monroe, Chairman.”
When the Committee on Slavery reported, there were submitted a “majority” and a “minority” report, a substitute for the majority report. The first resolution of the committee was:
“Resolved, by the delegates of the several annual conferences, in General Conference assembled, That we recommend the amendment of the General Rule on Slavery, so that it shall read: ‘The buying, selling, or holding of men, women, or children, with an intention to enslave them.’”
This motion was lost, since it required a two-thirds vote; and 138 voted for it, and 74 against it. The second resolution was:
“Resolved, That we recommend the suspension of the fourth Restrictive Rule, for the purpose set forth in the foregoing resolution.”
The first resolution having failed, this was laid on the table. The third was:
“Resolved, by the delegates of the several annual conferences, in General Conference assembled, That the following be, and hereby is, substituted in the place of the seventh chapter on Slavery: Question. What shall be done for the extirpation of slavery? Answer. We declare that we are as much as ever convinced of the great evil of slavery. We believe that the buying, selling, or holding of human beings as chattels, is contrary to the laws of God and nature, inconsistent with the Golden Rule, and with that rule in our Discipline which requires all who desire to remain among us to ‘do no harm, and to avoid evil of every kind.’ We therefore affectionately admonish all our preachers and people to keep themselves pure from this great evil, and to seek its extirpation by all lawful and Christian means.”
This was necessarily the last work of the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church on behalf of the colored man before the terrible Civil War in this country, that began during the ensuing quadrennium.
CHAPTER V
THE RETROSPECT.
Who has not, ere this, declared slavery a vice? We have seen that the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1796 not only warned its members against the vice of holding their fellow-men, their brethren, as slaves, but required a guarantee from applicants for membership that, if owners of slaves, they would manumit them at the earliest possible moment; if not, that they would not engage in it while in the communion of the Church; that if “any among us do not wish to abide by this rule, they shall have the privilege quietly to withdraw.” Such a spirit was in keeping with the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount. Not only this, but any member of the Methodist Episcopal Church who should sell a human being for any reason, was to be expelled. In cases where members of the Church bought colored people, even though done for the purpose of keeping husband and wife together, or from being separated, it was stipulated that such should only be held in servitude a sufficient time to pay back to the purchaser the price paid for him or her. This plan, in itself, was not only a wise business transaction for the liberation of slaves, but humane and just; creditable to the Church and honorable in the purchaser when done willingly, as well as elevating in its very nature, and calculated to put the slave under perpetual gratitude to his liberator. The plan was unique, and if it had been observed in every such case throughout the length and breadth of this fair land, our American civilization would have become the ideal of the world. If our government had but consented to adopt some such measure looking to the gradual liberation of the slaves, is it not rational to believe the late Civil War could have been averted, and many precious lives and much property been saved? But the American people apparently did not view it in that light. It came at last, as of old, the arbitrary Pharaoh rushed on pursuing his slaves, notwithstanding the terrible warnings given, until ingulfed in the boisterous waves of the mighty Red Sea. How true is it that “the wicked pass on, and are punished!” No more fearful punishment ever came upon any nation than came upon ours because of slavery. Although the above plan was adopted by the Church, it declared that if a Methodist person purchased a slave woman, all her children—whether her husband was a free man or not—were to be free from birth. Thus the Church sought at once to begin emancipation.
The General Conference of 1800 declared slavery among ministers or lay members not only “reprehensible,” but that “such slaveholders must consent to manumit all such persons held in bondage or leave the Church,” even though purchased to prevent the separation of husband and wife, or parents and children. Thus the Church unmistakably declared its unutterable opposition to the heretical doctrine of “doing evil that good may come of it.” That General Conference, if possible, went further still when it declared: “Any minister who marries a slaveholding wife must be expelled.” If this was not strong language, then there is none. The Church, at that period, sought not only to protect, but to give “the colored members within its communion all the rights and privileges guaranteed by the Discipline to any other members.” Was it strange, after this action, that the Methodist Episcopal Church decided that even colored men were eligible to ordination? From henceforth the Church saw no valid reason, as there was none, why it should not be done; and hence the Church began to ordain colored men as “deacons in the Church of God.”
We have seen that at each General Conference of our Church from the beginning, the question of human slavery was discussed, opposed, and anathematized by the Church. And yet during that time many strange things occurred. In the General Conference of 1804, that met in the city of Baltimore, Freeborn Garrettson moved that the question of the buying and selling of slaves be left to the three bishops for regulation. Just what this meant does not appear on the surface. It could have meant that the Church knew the hearts of the three bishops were right, and that they would therefore oppose anything like a compromise with the system of human slavery then in vogue. It could have meant that they were conservative, and would not, therefore, likely precipitate any trouble upon the Church on account of this vexed question. Viewed from any point at this distance, it assumes a strange attitude. It may have been intended as a measure to “bring peace out of confusion;” but “peace,” “peace,” when there could be no peace, had been the slaveholders’ cry all along. It was considered a conciliatory measure. It proved to be exactly the reverse. It resulted in confusion; for the following General Conference, in 1808, declared that the question of “buying and selling slaves must hereafter be left to the discretion of the several annual conferences for decision.” Though this action was taken seventy-nine years ago, it appears as inexplicable to the writer as it did to some men at that day. Its consistency and spirit do not even to-day present a single redeeming feature. Every General Conference had moved a notch higher in opposition to slavery, and now the whole subject was ordered out of the General Conference, to be decided by the annual conferences, in the which were some probably, if not slaveholders, sympathizers with slavery. This was done, too, in face of the well-known fact that the United States government had become so disturbed on account of the discussions arising out of the question of human slavery and other causes, as to prohibit the importation of any more African slaves into America. It could have been one of those peculiar proceedings that occur now and then, in the which “certain inalienable rights, among which life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” have no consideration; but in the which “expediency,” and not principle, obtain. It is thought by some that the action taken by that General Conference on the question of slavery was regretted by many afterward. The motion by which that question was sent down to the annual conferences was a repetition of the political idea of the doctrine of States’ rights, with the colored man’s interests not considered.
When the General Conference met in the city of Baltimore in 1812, the persistency of the friends of the colored man in pushing his claims showed him not friendless. The colored man, like other men, feels very keenly impositions, and yet we think it is conceded that he is of a religious turn of mind, docile and humble, but has his preferences as clearly as other men. He does not like to be considered a bone of contention, a cat’s-paw, or an intruder. He does like to have his manhood respected. But suppose the above action of the General Conference of 1808 was a mistake, is it not admissible that it was possible to turn the head of the Church in the opposite direction now and then, if even for a time only? It was a perplexing question, indeed; and as the law of the land supported it—for slavery shielded itself behind the venerated Constitution—what more could the Church do, since some conferences were in Massachusetts and some in South Carolina? However, that General Conference declared that under existing circumstances but little, if anything, could be done to abolish human slavery in America outside of political powers; that the Church of God in general, and the Methodist Episcopal Church in particular, could not reach the question as effectively as the civil law. But the civil law had only then begun to take notice of the foul system of slavery in this country.
In the despondency of that day and hour—for there was despondency behind the action of that body on the question of slavery—the attention of that General Conference was called to consider the advisability of looking after the interests of “the free people of color.” In some States the manumission of slaves was prohibited, except they were at once moved out of that State. In cases where this was not done some complaint would usually be lodged against them, and they were incarcerated in prison, and, “as a penalty for violation of the law, were sold again into slavery by sheriff’s sale.” Colonization in Africa was seemingly the only hope. Hence, when a report was presented to the General Conference from the American Colonization Society, it was commended to the generous public. Such cases as that of Dred Scott discouraged many people who wished to manumit their slaves from doing so, for fear they might be re-enslaved. The General Conference declared the idea of colonizing the “free people of color” in Africa as a wise measure in the right direction. What less could the Church have done for the race? What less ought it to have done? When the General Conference of 1816 met, the question of slavery, and the proper recognition of the colored members of the Church came up for consideration. The Church must have seen by that time that a mistake had been made by refusing to grant its colored members a separate conference. Not that the Church had given colored members of intelligence “cause for complaint,” but that it did not sooner see that an insidious foe was in its very vitals, stealing away its life. If the Church, however, had been an institution dependent upon the whims of the human family, whose strength and perpetuation were dependent wholly upon its agreement with the slave oligarchy, the action taken by the Church in defense of her colored members would have appeared fool-hardy. But it was not, for it had the support of Him who said, “Upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”
The secession of the “Allenites” alienated quite a number of Christian men from the side of the defense of the colored man. Why should it not, when a few of the faithful white men had not only jeoparded their future prospects, blighted their present fame, brought down upon them the vituperation and obloquy of the slave oligarchy within and without the Church, simply because they professed to believe “a man’s a man for a’ that, and a’ that?” Is it not strange that some were so unwise as to be misled by a misguiding or ambitious spirit, when they were not able to add one cubit to their stature or make one hair white or black?
During the ensuing quadrennium “the color question” was discussed pro and con. When the General Conference of 1824 met in Baltimore, and declared that colored preachers were entitled to equal privileges “with others,” it was a commendable step. Such action was calculated to restore to the fold the seceders of 1816 and 1820, had their ambition not reached beyond justice and right. Although the Methodist Episcopal Church did all in its power, apparently, by General Conference action and episcopal supervision, to reclaim the seceders, they persistently refused either to be comforted or to return to the fold. Probably sufficient cause can be found in Bishop Allen’s reasons for not wishing to accept Bishop Asbury’s invitation to travel and preach with him, when the reason as given by him to the bishop was, that he thought “that men should lay up something for a rainy day.” There was never a promise made by the Master to give any man a large salary to hunt up “the lost sheep of Israel.” Because of the failure to conciliate those offended brethren some looked askant at Methodism; because, forsooth, they knew not the bottom facts. From the General Conference of 1824 to that of 1836, which met in Cincinnati, Ohio, the agitation of the question continued. The condemnation of the two premature lecturers by this General Conference gave great offense to the Abolitionists everywhere, and depressed woefully the spirits of the colored members without the Church. Poor, ignorant, and deluded men would naturally and rightfully conclude that in the hearts and bosoms of those men their dearest interests were planted, and hence the disposition to put a quietus upon them was equivalent to the non-recognition of the rights of the colored man within and without the Church to the bright anticipation of ever being allowed the enjoyment of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” As a natural result of the supposed compromise with slavery made by the “Conference Rights” act, many conferences complained by memorial that they had difficulty after difficulty in properly adjusting the matter of slavery. Hence came the next step—legitimate child of previous action—a declaration that the question of slavery was one of those peculiar cases where only the civil law could properly adjust and act upon it. From 1836 to 1844 the war on slavery and in favor of slavery was unceasingly waged within and without the Church. The thought of the regular succession of events is not to be questioned when we remember the struggles of the General Conference of 1840 at Baltimore over the appeal of Silas Comfort, and that of the marriage of a Baltimorean preacher and a Georgian bishop to slaveholding women. The Silas Comfort decision was, on the whole, the best thing possible for the peace of the colored man within and without the Methodist Episcopal Church. The decision was all that could have been asked so far as the then present peace of the colored man was concerned. But the Lord Jesus at one time said: “I came not to bring peace on the earth, but a sword.” If we have the proper conception of his meaning, there are times when peace is not the best thing possible. When the General Conference received the protest from Sharp Street Church against the decision, it only exhibited the fact that men and Churches do not always see themselves as others see them.
But if in the Silas Comfort appeal decision the enemies of human rights scored a victory over the friends of human freedom, the latter turned the tide and scored a more glorious as well as righteous victory at the General Conference of 1844, that met in the city of New York, when the resolution that had been carried and placed on record denouncing the action of “the two Abolition lecturers” was ordered to be expunged therefrom. At that General Conference a petition was presented from the colored ministers within the Church asking admission into the annual conferences. This was refused for some reason. Then there followed a petition for a separate conference. The wisdom of the refusal to grant said separate conference is now apparent to all who are either concerned or have the interests of the race, as such, at heart. No argument is needed to substantiate the above proposition in the minds of any intelligent person. Notwithstanding this, the historian of African Methodism said in his “Apology:” “It would have been a source of unspeakable joy had he been permitted truthfully to record that your Church had acknowledged your full and true manhood, and not denied it both in practice and in law—had received you into conference upon a perfect ministerial equality; but, alas! the doors of its conferences were locked, and bolted and barred against you.” Such thrusts as the above, if there was no other sufficient reason for asking it, were certainly calculated to urge the matter forward, because the restlessness of the members, begotten by such unsolicited and sophisticated sympathy, showed it necessary. Just why separate conferences were not given them in the free States does not appear on the surface. Those who were in authority at that time no doubt had good and sufficient reasons for not granting the privilege of membership with white ministers in the annual conferences on the one hand, nor separate conferences on the other hand. While it does not appear that it would have been wisdom to have granted them the latter in the slave States, we submit, now, without questioning the wisdom displayed by those godly fathers. Those who wish to speculate may do so; we are satisfied. All this but declares
“Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”
CHAPTER VI
DURING THE WAR.
The Abolition Church! If there was any one denomination of Christians in this country, north of Mason and Dixon’s Line, that was anathematized beyond another, declared by many in the South one of the most forward instigators and abettors of the late Civil War, it was the “Northern” or “Abolition Methodist Church,” as they called our Church. Well do I remember the “yarns” told by the soldiers of General Sterling Price’s army on a preacher they captured from the Union soldiers in Missouri. The preacher was a noble specimen, and looked more like a Norman king than any of those about him. This minister of the Lord Jesus was terribly abused by his captors. Not so much, as they said, because he was a Union soldier—that was bad enough—but he belonged to the “Northern” or “Abolition Methodist Church.” “The Methodist Episcopal Church, South”—or as it is, and was, better known as “The Southern Methodist Episcopal Church”—is a relative term or name. It was natural, therefore, for the Southern Confederacy to adopt it, and grant it a kind of supremacy above every other denomination. Did it not lead the secession movement in favor of slavery? It is no stretch of imagination to say some people united with it for that very reason. It was to have been expected that the two Churches, wherever they met, would sustain the same relations that the Jews and Samaritans used to sustain to each other. It was impossible to expect anything less than bitter opposition to the “Northern Church.” There was a time in the South when he who spoke favorably of our Church was not only suspected as a “lover of niggers,” but one to be “let alone,” for all intents and purposes, as a traitor. That times have changed but very little in the South along these lines, but few doubt.
If there never comes another time and cause when the Methodist Episcopal Church will interest herself in the politics of this country, no sane person will deny the fact that she was so interested when the question of the abolition of human slavery was being discussed, and while the Civil War was being waged. If there has never been a time when “the two branches of Methodism” hung on exactly opposite sides of the parent tree with about equal weight since the secession of 1844 until the Civil War began, they occupied the above-named attitude during the bloody scenes of those four years. The Methodist Episcopal Church, South, as such, supported the Confederacy, while the Methodist Episcopal Church supported the Union. And now if the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, closed her doors that the pastor might lead his official lay members into the war—praying, preaching, singing, and fighting every day of the week and Sunday, too—the Methodist Episcopal Church did as much to counteract this. The evidence of this is found in the fact that for upwards of twenty years—ever since the secession of 1844 to 1864—the Methodist Episcopal Church had been practically excluded from the South, and only ventured to plant outposts along the border States, where she found admittance by some compromises to the conservative element that came to her there. Not only so, but President Lincoln declared it “no fault of other denominations that the Methodist Episcopal Church furnished more money and men to suppress the Rebellion.” As a rule our bishops and ministers and membership, wherever they went, preached, lectured, exhorted, and prayed for the overthrow of the terrible slavery that bound hand and foot four and a half million human beings in a bondage more terrible than that of Pharaoh and more demoralizing than that of the Russian empire. It was said of one of our bishops: “Throughout the late war Bishop Simpson did much to strengthen the hands of President Lincoln, and to nerve the spirit of the nation to endure any sacrifice for the cause of the Union.”
The class of men elected to General Conference positions at the General Conference of 1860, showed unmistakably the attitude of our Church toward slavery and the war. Her standing rule that “non-slaveholding” henceforth was to be one of the conditions of membership in the Church, the periodicals of the Church being put in the hands of anti-slavery editors were straws in the wind. Everybody knows that Dr. Daniel Wise was considered “an offensive partisan” on the question of slavery. Dr. Whedon, who was barely elected at the General Conference of 1856 because of his radicalism, was at this General Conference (1860) unanimously re-elected editor of our Quarterly Review. When that General Conference adjourned it was plainly to be seen that our Church had put on ecclesiastical war-paint, and was therefore prepared to push the battle of human freedom to the gate. If any one doubts this, proof is forthcoming in the fact that, the conservative element in our Church seeing the status of affairs, a newspaper, known as The Methodist, was established by them in New York City. The following March, when the Baltimore Annual Conference met, it resolved, by a unanimous vote, that it was “determined not to hold connection with any ecclesiastical body that makes non-slaveholding a condition of membership in the Church.” Indeed, so high did opposition to the position the Church had taken on slavery rise, that another secession, similar to that of 1844, came near taking place. When Rev. Mr. Hedrick was presented by the Baltimore Conference for ordination to Bishop Scott, he publicly excepted the new chapter on slavery. Bishop Scott then arose and said: “I regard myself restrained from ordaining any one who declines to take upon him the ordination vows without qualification or exception. Hence, I can not ordain Mr. Hedrick.” This caused considerable commotion, but the bishop stood like the rock of Gibraltar. “There were giants in those days” all about him, whose reputation for wisdom and influence was enviable. The lay conference was in session at the same time in the city. When they were informed of the refusal of Bishop Scott to ordain Mr. Hedrick, and the reasons given, they took action declaring a disposition to ignore the entire subject of slavery in the Discipline. When it is remembered what class of people our Methodism claims in the State of Maryland; their means, influence, and their disposition to lead matters, since it (Baltimore) may be considered one of the principal cradles of Methodism, and has all along been in the van of Methodist movements; that some of the most influential, eloquent, and popular men in the Methodist Episcopal Church “were born in her,” it adds intensity and alarm to the situation. But Bishop Scott, like most of our bishops, knew the heart of the Church; knew that he was in full accord with the Church on the question of slavery, and therefore the Lord was on his side, and stood like Martin Luther before the Diet at Worms, trusting in God. When such an expression of opinion on the question of slavery was given by “the sinews of war”—the laymen—it was an inspiration to the clerical brethren of the Baltimore Annual Conference. The soul of Bishop Scott was severely taxed, the Methodist Episcopal Church was disturbed, while the very air seemed laden with dust from the recent conflict, and more especially when the Baltimore Annual Conference responded to the expression of opinion given by the lay conference, by declaring in open conference: “If three-fourths of all the annual conferences will, within the year 1861, agree with us, we agree with the action of the laymen and the Baltimore Conference, and will not reunite with them in Church fellowship.” When this was presented to the conference, Bishop Scott announced that he could not entertain a motion contemplating a division of the Church. He permitted the secretary, Rev. J. S. Martin, to put the question. But when the bishop came to the chair he ordered the following paper spread upon the journal:
“The whole action just had on what is called the ‘Norval Wilson propositions’ is, in my judgment, in violation of the order and Discipline of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and therefore is null and void, regarded as conference action. I, therefore, do not recognize such action as infracting the integrity of this body, and so I shall proceed to finish the business of the present session.
“Levi Scott.”
The East Baltimore Conference was also on the eve of seceding, while the Philadelphia Conference signified its willingness, by a vote of 174 to 35, to have the Rule on Slavery changed. These facts were enough in themselves to cause the South to look askant at the Methodist Episcopal Church, and probably caused the Church to be nicknamed “the Abolition Church.”
By this time the rumors of war had reached a climax. We find a proper description in the language of the historian Ridpath, who, in speaking of the capture of Fort Sumter by the rebels, says:
“The news of this startling event went through the country like a flame of fire. There had been some expectation of violence, but the actual shock came like a clap of thunder. The people of the towns poured into the streets, and the country folk flocked to the villages to gather the tidings and to comment on the coming conflict. Gray-haired men talked gravely of the deed that was done, and prophesied of its consequences. Public opinion, both in the North and the South, was rapidly consolidated. Three days after the fall of Fort Sumter, President Lincoln issued a call for seventy-five thousand volunteers to serve three months in the overthrow of the secession movement. On the 19th of April, when the first regiments of Massachusetts volunteers were passing through Baltimore on their way to Washington, they were fired upon by the citizens and three men killed.”
The sounds of preparation for war were heard in every direction. No less spirit was being manifested throughout the Methodist Episcopal Church. And yet, notwithstanding the fact that the Baltimore Annual Conference withdrew by resolution from the Methodist Episcopal Church, because the Church stood up for the poor slave, not a single compromise at that time was made by the Church with slavery. To get some idea of the condition of affairs at the time, or directly thereafter, when Bishop Levi Scott stood up in the face of the whole world and let his light so shine that men might see his good works and those of the Church he represented, when he declined to ordain the Rev. Mr. Hedrick in the presence of the Baltimore Conference, we quote the language of a man whom every colored man and most good white men love to honor—Gilbert Haven, D.D.—who says in his description of the “First War Sunday:”
“That Sabbath-day’s journey ought to be chronicled. We marched through saintly Boston in the gray twilight to the tune of ‘Yankee Doodle.’ All along the route cannons and bells, bands and flags and waving handkerchiefs, soldiers and crowds upon crowds, gave us a hearty hail and farewell. At Hartford we were told the women were all at home driving their sewing-machines, and the men busy making cartridges for their troops. All the town left their churches and gathered around the depot, where they had had preaching and singing while waiting for us. They had also provided refreshments enough for five thousand persons, and plied us with sweetmeats and benedictions. The force of the fever could go no farther.”
The colored man from one end of this country to the other had always recognized the Methodist Episcopal Church as a friend to him and his, a friend whose sympathies were worth a great deal. But whenever he was reminded that it was “The Abolition Church” and one of the prime causes of the war—which was usually taught him whenever the poor, deluded colored men imagined, as they would naturally at times, that the war imposed additional hardships and burdens—he sometimes shuddered. But when the Union forces went South, and any of the colored people were seen, they usually spoke kindly to them. If about religious matters, they usually found the colored man either a Baptist or a Methodist. If the latter, and the interlocutor, or any one of the company, was a Methodist, the poor colored man learned of the interest the Church was taking in his welfare and liberation. When colored men ran within the Federal lines, they never failed to find the chaplain or some one of the company a member of the Methodist Church, who deeply sympathized with him, and did all possible to make him comfortable. While all this was true, another aspect presented itself.