The members of Sharp Street Church did not protest against the decision of the Church in this case, because they doubted the expressed fidelity made prior to this, that was self-evident. But they knew that times change and men change with them. This to them looked like a compromise with the spirit of slavery that stalked abroad in the land. That decision, viewed from this distance to-day, to some, assumes a different aspect altogether. How could they keep from protesting? What could they do more, how dare do less? How did they curb their feelings enough to express their thoughts in such mild language? Why should not those burden-bound colored men and women protest against, while compelled to submit to, a decision that to them was humiliating in the extreme? Shall the crawling, loathsome worm of the dust be allowed to squirm when trod upon, the venomous snake to hiss, the vicious beast to defend himself, and then deny the right to protest? Could the Church of God deny them the privilege of exculpating themselves in the eyes of the public from what to them appeared an undeserved reproach, thrown upon them because of their color or helpless condition, casting thereby away from them the protection of all save that of God? As they probably thought, why thus insult them? Aye; rather why insult justice and God by demanding of them a reason for protesting, since it appeared to them that the Methodist Episcopal Church—the Church, and only Church, that from the beginning had stood manfully in their defense—by that decision “had failed to manifest the spirit that worketh no ill to its neighbor?” Whatever the protestants in this instance may have thought or said, viewed at that time from the ignis fatuus of the then existing African Churches in the North, “it was calculated to drive out of the Methodist Episcopal Church every intelligent and manly colored man,” into one or the other of these Churches. Viewed, however, under the light of the Address of our bishops at that time, it assumes a more rational and philosophical aspect. The bishops said: “We can not withhold from you at this eventful period the solemn conviction of our minds, that no ecclesiastical legislation on the subject of slavery at this time will have a tendency to accomplish these most desirable objects, to wit: Preserve the peace and unity of the whole body, promote the greatest happiness of the slave population, and advance generally in the slaveholding community of our country the humane and hallowing influence of our holy religion.” By this we judge that at that time the Church had come to the conclusion that it was impossible by “ecclesiastical legislation” to benefit in any way the colored man; that extra legislation on the question would be not only supererogatory, but in all probability only beneficial in goading the slaveholder. We infer (1) that civil legislation touching slavery was not objected to; but that (2) the objection to the admission of colored testimony had been raised by the civil courts, and it was not considered being “subject to the powers that be” to demur; at least, that it was the duty of the Church “to live in peace with all men” as much as possible. We are not ignorant of the fact that there have been, and will yet be, times when forbearance ceases to be a virtue, and when the Church of God can not afford to be loyal “to the powers that be.” But what could be accomplished by the opposition of one Church to the slave oligarchy that was then rife in this country? As to this we can only say:

“Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,

God treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sovereign will.”

As we now see it, there was no use for Methodism to push slavery harder at that time, since God was behind the movement. Long before this time the bishops and other far-seeing and right-minded men saw that all the speeches made and actions taken pro and con relating to slavery, by the Church, would, without the interposition of God, culminate in splitting the Church. This in itself gave promise of what actually grew out of it—a long, bitter, but bloodless ecclesiastical war between the two factions. Seeing signs of an approaching crisis, they were anxious to avert it as long as possible, and at the same time prayed to God, “Thy will be done, and not mine;” that when the on-sweeping tidal wave, even then within the bounds of the Church, in opposition to holding slaves, did come, that, so far as those who were leading in opposition to the accursed traffic were concerned, their consciences might be clear, and that if the separation came in their life-time, their side should bear the marks of God’s approbation.

Without multiplying evidence going to show the interest the Methodist Episcopal Church took in the colored man from its origin to the time at which we have arrived, we wish now to note the result of the unwillingness of the Church to compromise with slavery. We have seen that in every case where it was possible to make concessions to the colored man, to train, protect, and elevate him, the Church has done it where it was proper and best for him. It has in every case, as far as practicable, tried to remedy the wrongs perpetrated upon him as well as lessen his burdens. Not, of course, always as the colored man thought it ought to have been done—for he was not in condition to even judge what was best for him—nor yet as some who appeared more radical would have had it done; but the Church stood by and for the colored man as no other denomination occupying the same territory and similar circumstances would do. To know what was contemplated by the Church in this case we have but to trace out the legitimate results. During the interregnum from 1836 to 1844 “God moved in a mysterious way his wonders to perform.” The question of the abolition of American slavery was discussed at each General Conference with animation and seriousness. Many declared the radical action taken by the Church on the question would eventually rend the Church in twain. Many earnest prayers ascended to the throne of God in behalf of the tranquillity of the Church, but were not answered because “his brother” was in need; and those prayers, if answered, would not only have riveted his shackles, but bathed his face in tears, and consigned the poor colored man and his posterity, not to perpetual banishment—that would have been tolerable—but to a slavery worse than that of the Russian serf. As many more prayed that the prediction as to the split in the Church might come to pass. As a result, each succeeding General Conference was marked by the friends of slavery as the beginning of the end of a united Methodism in America.

CHAPTER III
THE CRISIS—ITS CAUSE.

The General Conference of 1844 sat in the city of New York, from May 1st until June 10th—forty-five days. It has gone down into history as the most noted of any General Conference of the Church. There was at stake the peace, unity, and strength of Methodism in this country. The question most prominent, and that was calculated to stir up most enthusiasm, was that of the abolition of American slavery. An unprecedented, as well as strange case, came up for consideration. Rev. James Osgood Andrew, one of the bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who was elected at the General Conference of 1832, a few months before the session of the General Conference of 1844 had married an estimable lady of the best families of Georgia, who was the owner of slaves. This act on the part of the bishop, from the very nature of things, caused much excitement and more comment. This was a trying attitude for the Church. There had arisen within a party in the North that accused it of being pro-slavery in sentiment—at least to a certain extent. Notwithstanding it hitherto had occupied such strong positions on the question of human slavery, the above sentiment arose to such a height in 1842 as to cause a secession, and the formation of the Wesleyan Methodist Church. It did, therefore, seem strange that such a thing had happened.