It is characteristic of the nature of the Presidential campaign of 1828 that this incident was taken up by Jackson’s political enemies and tortured into the charge that he had deliberately and heartlessly encouraged and condoned the murder of one of his defenseless slaves; but this charge was quickly exploded when Walton, who certainly had no reason to distort the facts in Jackson’s favor, made a sworn public statement telling just what took place.
Jackson’s benevolent attitude toward his slaves was strikingly illustrated early in 1839 when four of them, including his personal servant, George, were prosecuted for the alleged murder of another negro, a slave named Frank belonging to Stockley Donelson. Donelson had Jackson’s four negroes indicted for the murder, but the General rushed to their defense and successfully engineered their case. The best legal talent was employed and the General attended court in person every day while the trial lasted. The affair cost him $1,500 in money, in addition to his loss of time and injury to his then feeble health, but his negroes were acquitted and he felt amply repaid.
During Jackson’s lifetime, and long afterwards, in Tennessee his kindness and indulgence in his relations with his slaves were proverbial. It was a standing joke with the overseers during the days when he was active in politics and spending much of his time away from home that whenever he returned and spent much time at the Hermitage he spoiled the slaves by his leniency to such an extent that it took a good while to get them back into working shape after he had left. He would brook no imposition on any of them, and it is recorded that he one day made a special trip to Lebanon to seek out and thrash a man named Grayson who had had the temerity to strike with a whip Truxton’s black groom, Ephriam. No wonder the slaves all crowded around him and literally wept with joy when he returned to the Hermitage in the summer of 1830, his first visit home after his election to the Presidency.
IX: CHURCH AND RELIGION, AND FINAL DAYS
One of the most picturesque adjuncts to the Hermitage is the little Presbyterian church, known far and wide as the Hermitage Church, although in the formal Presbyterian records it was officially designated Ephesus. The visitor coming out from Nashville sees it in a grove of trees on the right-hand side of the present road just before he turns off to the left into the lane that leads down to the Hermitage. It is a severely plain and simple little brick structure, the homeliest sort of example of ecclesiastical architecture, without steeple or tower or portico. Inside there are stiff pews of sturdy oak (the one in which Jackson sat is marked with a silver plate) facing a plain and unadorned pulpit, and there is a fireplace at each end. It is floored with bricks, and originally the only lighting fixtures were candlesticks; but in late years Mrs. Sarah York Jackson presented the church with the handsome bronze lamps which are still in use.
There is a graveyard facing the road in front of the church, but this is not the familiar churchyard burying-ground so often seen in connection with country churches. It is the cemetery of the near-by Confederate Soldiers’ Home. The Hermitage church’s members all had family burying-grounds on their farms, and the church had no need for such facilities. It is said, as a matter of fact, that there was never but one funeral ceremony held at the church and this was in 1906 when the remains of Colonel Andrew Jackson, III, were brought from Knoxville where he died to be buried in the garden at the Hermitage. The Hermitage church had little to do with funerals, although it was draped in crepe for three years in honor of General Jackson when he died.
The traditional story is that General Jackson built this church for his wife, but this is hardly accurate, although the General himself customarily referred to it as “Mrs. Jackson’s church.” The fact is that the church was built in 1823 by popular subscription by the people of the neighborhood. The cost of the building was $800, but when the subscription paper was circulated it raised only $120. The remaining $680 was subscribed by seven men; and Jackson, being about the wealthiest and most prominent resident of the community, naturally contributed most liberally. Active with him in promoting the church was Colonel Edward Ward, the neighbor who bought the Hunter’s Hill place from him; the various members of the Donelson family paid a share of the expense; and all the other neighbors contributed more or less. The money was not raised without difficulty, however; and in December, 1823, Jackson wrote to his wife asking how the work of building progressed and bidding her to see Colonel Ward and urge him to push the work along. “Tell him,” wrote the General, “that it must be finished, if him and myself pay for it.”
Earlier in the year Colonel Ward had written General Jackson at some length about the new church, particularly about the best method of raising the money for the minister’s salary. It had been proposed that they follow the plan of renting pews, but Colonel Ward expressed doubt as to the practicability of this plan. “I can not think of more than 12 or 15 persons that would purchase seats,” he wrote, “and from the very good neighborhood feelings that prevail with us there would be no competition excited in the sale of them. The consequence would be that the seats would sell for just as little as each person would think proper to bid for them. I am fearful that a plan of this sort is not well calculated for the country, particularly in a thinly populated neighborhood like ours; furthermore, I should fear that it would not be generally pleasing and might frequently operate against the attendance of persons not immediately interested in or connected with the church.” The Colonel closed by saying that he would “with promptitude” subscribe to whatever plan was decided on for the church’s support. General Jackson also evidently did not take to the idea of selling pews—it is easy to believe that he wouldn’t—and the record shows that this idea was dropped.
As originally built, the entrance to the church was on the eastern side of the building, facing the old Sanders Ferry Road, traces of which may still be seen today; but in 1838 when that road was abandoned and the Lebanon Turnpike was built, it was considered necessary to move the doors to their present location in the south end so as to avoid having the church present its back to the new road. To defray the expense of this remodeling work another subscription list was passed among the congregation; and, as usual, General Jackson’s name headed the list. Jackson also instilled some of his characteristic energy into the remodeling work; and when it was suggested that a committee be appointed to look after it he promptly and vigorously dissented, emphatically voicing the view that responsibility for getting the work done should be vested in one man rather than in a committee. “When the Lord wanted the Ark built,” he told the astonished elders, “He gave the job to one man. If He had appointed a committee to attend to it, the Ark wouldn’t have been built yet.” Jackson at this time, it will be recalled, was just back from eight years in Washington with all its red tape and circumlocutionary delays.
Although a leading spirit in the building of the church and a strict attendant at its services, Jackson was not a regularly enrolled member until late in life. By the time the church was built he was deeply enmeshed in politics, and he feared that any formal religious declaration at that time would be misconstrued by his political enemies. But, although he remained outside the fold of the church, there is every evidence that he was deeply and sincerely religious. He attended services regularly in Washington while he was President, not infrequently walking alone on Sunday morning from the White House to the Presbyterian or Episcopal church to hear the morning sermon. He regularly paid pew rent during his Presidential terms to both the First Presbyterian and St. John’s churches.