The Colored Man in the Methodist Episcopal Church

by L. M. Hagood

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,