The central gentleman now, in a very low don't- care-whether-you-hear-or-not tone of voice, gave out a text. It was John iii. 7: "Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again." I will give you a sketch of his sermon. He observed that of all subjects on which men might be addressed, religious subjects were the most important; and that of all religious subjects, that to which the text referred was the most momentous. Having noticed the context, he proposed to inquire, first, into the necessity of being born again. This change (he observed) was necessary, in order to enjoy heaven. It was a common observation, that "society seeks its level." The Indian, for example, could not be happy amidst the refinements of civilization. The gambler and the swearer could not be happy in the society of the pious and devout. If so in this world, amidst imperfect holiness, how much more so in the pure society of the celestial state!
During these remarks, I was much annoyed by the cracking of nuts not very far off. I looked around, and actually found it was a mother cracking them for her two boys, one of whom might be seven and the other five years of age,—one by her side, and the other in the next pew behind. To the latter she deliberately handed over the kernels in a pocket-handkerchief; and yet, to look at her, you would have thought her a woman of sense and piety!
The preacher noticed, in the second place, the nature of this change. It was spiritual, not physical,—a "revolution" (!) of the mind, rather than a mere change of opinion or of outward deportment. The third observation related to the evidence of the change. Its existence might be ascertained by our own experience, and by the Word of God. The former was not to be trusted without a reference to the latter. This change destroyed the love of the world. It led man to abandon his favourite sins, and to live and labour to do good. It also created in him new desires and enjoyments. These topics were variously and suitably illustrated, and the whole was a very good sermon on the subject.
At the close the man on the right offered an appropriate prayer. The pastor then made several announcements; among them, that a meeting to pray for the success of Sabbath-schools would be held on the morrow evening. In connection with that announcement, he said: "I am a very plain man, and my God is a very plain God. He is so in all his dealings with men. He always acts on the plain common-sense principle, that, if a favour is worth bestowing, it is worth asking for." He also intimated that there would be a Church-meeting immediately after the service, preparatory to the ordinance of the Lord's Supper in the afternoon, inviting at the same time any members of other Baptist Churches who might be present to participate with them in that privilege. This form of invitation led me to understand that they were "close communionists;" and such I have ascertained to be the case, not only with them, but also with all the regular Baptists in America. The influence of Robert Hall and others was not felt so powerfully on that side of the Atlantic as on this. I suppose that, while this worthy pastor would have freely admitted to the Lord's Supper any immersed slave-holder, he would have sternly refused that privilege to me—a sprinkled missionary from a distant land. You will readily believe, however, that the anti-slavery missionary—the pastor of a large congregation of black and coloured people—was not very ambitious of Christian fellowship with slave-holders.
LETTER X.
Interview with a Baptist Minister—Conversation with a Young Man in the Baptist Church—The Presbyterian Church, and Dr. Scott again—A Peep at the House of Representatives of Louisiana—Contrast between the French and the Americans in the Treatment of their Slaves—Dinner Table in New Orleans—American Manners.
The decided part acted by the Baptist missionaries in the British Colonies, in reference to slavery, made me anxious to know the whereabouts of the Baptist minister in New Orleans on that subject; and I therefore visited his place of worship again in the afternoon. They were engaged in celebrating the ordinance of the Lord's Supper. A very clean and neatly-dressed black woman was standing in the portico, looking in, and watching the proceedings with deep interest. She evidently wished to enter, but dared not. At the close I introduced myself to the minister as Davies, from British Guiana, attached to the ministry of the missionaries of the London Society. He was very kind and cordial, and pressed my wife and myself to go home with him to tea. We accepted the invitation. Among other questions, he asked how our negroes worked, now that they were free? I told him, "Very well indeed; and you may very safely venture to emancipate your slaves as soon as you please." This led us at once in medias res. His views I found to be simply as follows: how pious! how plausible! how convenient! how extensively prevalent in reference to other evils than slavery! "Slavery is a political institution. As a Christian minister, I have nothing to do with politics. My business is to preach the Gospel, and try to save men's souls. In this course I am sanctioned by the example of the Apostle Paul. Slavery existed in his day; but he turned not aside from the great object to attempt its overthrow. He simply told masters and slaves their duty, without at all interfering with the relation subsisting between them. Besides, the opposite of this course would render us and our churches unpopular, and thereby destroy our usefulness." He also seemed very sore at the idea of the Christianity of slave-holders being at all called in question. "People," said he, or words to the same effect, "may spare themselves the trouble to pass resolutions of non-fellowship with us; we wish for no fellowship with those who are so uncharitable as to question our piety." I began now to understand why the Abolitionists call the American churches "the bulwark of slavery."
Subsequently, on the same day, I had conversation with a young man, whom I had that afternoon seen sitting down at the Lord's Table in the Baptist Church. He told me that there were in New Orleans two Baptist Churches of coloured people, presided over by faithful and devoted pastors of their own colour. "And does your pastor," I inquired, "recognise them, and have fellowship with them?" "Oh! yes, he has often preached to them. He feels very anxious, I can assure you, for the conversion of the slaves." "And do those coloured preachers ever occupy your pulpit?" "Oh, dear me, no!" with evident alarm. "Why not? You say they are good men, and sound in doctrine." "Oh! they would not be tolerated. Besides, they are accustomed to speak in broken English, and in very familiar language; otherwise the slaves could not understand them. The slaves, you know, cannot read, and are not allowed to learn." This he said in a tone of voice which indicated an entire acquiescence in that state of things, as if he thought the arrangement perfectly right. But what iniquity! To come between the Word of God and his rational creature! To interpose between the light of Heaven and the soul of man! To withhold the lamp of life from one-sixth of the entire population! Of all the damning features of American slavery, this is the most damning!
"I suppose," continued I, "if any of the black people come to your churches, they have to sit by themselves?"
Young Man.—"Of course: I have never seen it otherwise."