American Scenes, and Christian Slavery - Ebenezer Davies
I then went and called without any introduction upon William Lloyd
Garrison, from whom I received the most kind attentions. He accompanied
me to the celebrated Bunker's Hill, a scene of dreadful encounter
between those who ought never to have been foes. A column of 200 feet
high now stands upon the spot. It is unfortunate that the Americans
have so many mementos, both natural and artificial, of their struggles
with us. They tend to perpetuate an undesirable feeling.
LETTER XXXIV.
Boston (continued)--The Old South--Unitarianism, and Connection between
Church and State--A Welsh Service in an "Upper Room"--Laura Bridgman
and the Wedding Ring--Oliver Caswell--Departure from Boston--John Todd
and his Family--His Congregationalism--Albany and the Delevan
House--Journey to Utica--Remsen and the Welsh People--Dogs made to
churn, and Horses to saw Wood.
On Sabbath morning the 11th of April I preached for the Rev. Mr.
Blagden, in the Old South Church. This is a large old-fashioned square
building, having two galleries, one above the other, on three of its
sides. It is rich in historical recollections. Here Whitfield preached.
Here patriotic meetings were held even before Faneuil Hall was built;
and here the British troops were quartered at the time of the
Revolutionary War. Here, too, the lamp of truth was kept feebly burning
when all around had sunk into darkness and heresy. At the commencement
of this century, the ministry in all the other Congregational Churches
in Boston had become Unitarian. In the Old South, however, there were a
few people, eight in number, who formed a "Society for Religious
Improvement." They could not at first _pray_ together; they only read
the Scriptures and conversed on religious subjects. But they grew in
wisdom, fervour, and zeal, and were eventually the means, not only of
reviving religion in the Old South, but also of giving an impulse in
Boston which is felt to this day. Church after church on orthodox
principles has been instituted, till there are in Boston more than a
dozen large and vigorous churches of the Congregational order; and the
Old South, the honoured "mother of churches," has had her "youth
renewed like the eagles."
But how came Congregationalism to be so deteriorated? It was owing to
its having been made the State religion. All were at first taxed for
its exclusive support. This was felt to be unjust and oppressive, and
it brought the favoured system into bad repute. Then a modification of
the law was adopted, and the citizens had their choice of systems, but
were taxed for the support of some system or other. This provision,
likewise, began ere long to be felt as unjust towards those who did not
wish to maintain _any_ system, or at least not by taxation. This law,
moreover, gave a virtual support to Unitarianism. "This," says the Rev.
Mr. Button of New Haven, "has been more fully illustrated in
Massachusetts than in Connecticut. The repeal of the law for the
compulsory support of religion in that commonwealth has proved a severe
blow to Unitarianism."
After the morning service at the Old South, we turned in to see
Park-street Church, another Congregational place of worship, which for
the following reason I was curious to enter. A few years ago a coloured
gentleman of respectability instructed a friend to purchase for him a
pew in that church. That no objection to the sale might arise from any
neglect of decorations, the new proprietor had it beautifully lined and
cushioned. It was made to look as handsome as any other pew in the
church; and, when it was finished, the gentleman and his family one
Sabbath morning took possession. This gave rise to great anxiety and
alarm. Niggers in the body of the church! What was to be done? In the
course of the following week a meeting was held, and a deputation
appointed to wait upon the gentleman, and to tell him that it was
against "public feeling" for him to occupy the pew in question. The
gentleman remonstrated, and pointed out the injustice, after he had
purchased the pew, and incurred the expense of fitting it up, of not
being allowed to enjoy it. To this the deputation replied that they
were sorry for any inconvenience or loss he might sustain, but public
feeling _must_ be respected, and the pew _must_ be given up. Against
this decision there was no appeal; and the gentleman was obliged to let
the pew be resold for such a price as the white aristocracy thought fit
to give. On the principle that "prevention is better than cure," they
have, I am told, in Boston introduced into every new trust-deed a
clause that will effectually guard against the recurrence of such a
calamity. But so "smartly" has it been done that, were you to examine
those deeds, you would look in vain for a single syllable having the
remotest apparent bearing on either black or coloured people, and you
would be ready to suspect that the whole was a mere invention of the
Abolitionists. Indeed, Mrs. "Bliss," at the "Saints' Rest," assured me
in the most positive manner that such was the case, and that the whole
of the story I have related had not the shadow of a foundation in
truth. But she might as well have attempted to deny the existence of
Bunker's Hill or Boston Bay. This was only a specimen of the manner in
which the colour-hating party attempt to throw dust in the eyes of
strangers, and deny the existence of the most palpable facts. But how
runs the conservative clause which led to this digression? It is
expressed in words to this effect,--That no sale of any pew is valid if
two-thirds or three-fourths (I forget which) of the congregation should
object to the purchaser! This was quite enough. Those against whom it
was directed need not be even mentioned. It was well known that with
this clause no coloured man could ever own a pew. Public feeling would
piously take hold of this key, and turn it against him.
In the afternoon I heard the Rev. E.N. Kirk. The church was new and
beautiful, the congregation large, and the sermon good.
In the evening I preached in Welsh to about 70 people, in a small
"upper room." It was my first attempt for many years to deliver a
_sermon_ in that language. Nor should I have made it, but for the
peculiarity of the case. The parties were representatives of four
different denominations in Wales, had formed themselves into a kind of
Evangelical Alliance, and had no stated minister, but gladly availed
themselves of the occasional services of any minister of evangelical
views who might be passing through! Poor and few as they were, they
insisted upon my receiving towards travelling expenses four dollars and
a half. This was not done at the Old South, though the pastor told me
they were "burdened with wealth;" nor was it done in any other instance
in the _American_ churches.
The next day the Rev. Mr. Blagden accompanied us to see the
Massachusetts Asylum for the Blind. Here we were introduced to Laura
Bridgman, who since she was about two years of age has been deaf, dumb,
and blind. Her senses of taste and smell are also impaired. She is 18
years of age, and has been in the institution ten years. Every avenue
of communication with the soul was closed--but one. The sense of touch
remained; and by means of that they have contrived to reach the mind,
to inform it, to instruct it, to refine and elevate it. We found her
exactly corresponding to the beautiful description given of her by Dr.
Howe, who is at the head of the institution. That description has so
often been published in England that I will not transcribe it. Her
figure is genteel, slender, and well-proportioned. She appears to be
lively, sensitive, and benevolent. The place where the bright blue eyes
once sparkled that are now quenched in darkness is covered with a piece
of green ribbon. Conversation with her is carried on by means of the
"speaker's" rapid fingering on her right hand. It was in this manner
that we were introduced. She shook hands with us very affectionately,
--taking hold of both hands of Mrs. Davies, and feeling all
about her head, her dress, and her arms. In doing so she felt the
wedding-ring, and wanted to know by means of her interpreter--her
governess--why the English ladies wore a ring on that finger. (The
American ladies do not observe the custom.) On my wife telling her it
was to show they were married, she seemed very much amused and
astonished. Here it was very interesting to observe the progress of a
thought from ourselves to the governess, and from her to that "little,
white, whispering, loving, listening" hand that received and
communicated all ideas, until the brightened countenance and the lovely
smile showed it had reached the soul. She felt a deep sympathy for
Ireland, and wished to know what the English were doing for the
starving inhabitants. We told her; and soon after we saw by the public
papers that, subsequently to our visit, she had done some needle-work,
which was sold, and the proceeds appropriated at her request to
purchase a barrel of flour for that unhappy land. "How," exclaims Elihu
Burritt, "she plied at morning, noon, and night, those fingers!
wonderful fingers! It seemed that the very finger of God had touched
them with miraculous susceptibilities of fellowship with the spirit
world and that around her. She put them upon the face of His written
word, and felt them thrilled to her heart with the pulsation of His
great thoughts of love to man. And then she _felt_ for other's woe.
Poor child! God bless her richly! She reached out her short arms to
feel after some more unhappy than she in the condition of this life;
some whose fingers' ends had not read such sweet paragraphs of heaven's
mercy as hers had done; some who had not seen, heard, and felt what her
dumb, silent, deaf fingers had brought into her heart of joy, hope, and
love. Think of that, ye young eyes and ears that daily feast upon the
beauty and melody of this outer world! Within the atmosphere of her
quick sensibilities, she felt the presence of those whose cup was full
of affliction. She put her fingers, with their throbbing sympathies,
upon the lean bloodless faces of the famishing children in Ireland, and
her sightless eyes filled with the tears that the blind may shed for
griefs they cannot see. And then she plied the needle and those
fingers, and quickened their industry by placing them anon upon the
slow sickly pulse of want that wasted her kind at noonday across the
ocean. Days, and nights too--for day and night were alike to her
wakeful sympathies--and weeks she wrought on with her needle. And then
the embroidery of those fingers was sold to the merchants. Would it had
been sold to England's Queen, to be worn by the young princesses on
days of state! It was sold; and its purchase price was _a barrel of
flour_, instead of a country's harvest, which it was well worth. And
that barrel of flour was stowed away without other private mark than
that the recording Angel put upon it, among the thousands that
freighted the _Jamestown_ on her recent mission of brotherly love to
Ireland. _Laura Bridgman and her barrel of flour_ should teach the
world a lesson worth the woes of one year's famine." Laura favoured us
with her autograph on a slip of paper, which we shall always carefully
preserve as a memorial of a visit to one of the greatest wonders of the
age.
In another room we were introduced to Oliver Caswell. He is about the
same age as Laura, and similarly afflicted, but has been in the
institution only six years. His teacher told him, in the same
finger-language which was used with Laura, that we came from British
Guiana, and desired him to find out the place on the large globe before
him. This globe was made for the use of the blind, having upon it the
countries and their names in relievo. Oliver turned it round, and felt
with his fingers until they soon rested on the required spot, when he
seemed greatly delighted. His attainments are not so remarkable as
those of Laura, for he has not been so long under tuition; but his
progress is highly encouraging.
At 4 P.M. we left Boston by railway for Albany,--fare 5 dollars each.
We rested, however, at Springfield for the night, and that in the most
comfortable hotel we had met with in the States. The next day we moved
on to Pittsfield, where we arrived at half-past 11. Finding that we
might get off from that train, and go by another in three or four
hours' time, we availed ourselves of the opportunity of calling upon
the Rev. Dr. Todd, the author of "Lectures to Children," "The Student's
Guide," &c. Instead of the prim, neat, little man we had always
imagined him to be, we found him tall, coarse, slovenly, and unshaven;
a man of 46 years of age; hair of an iron-grey, rough and uncombed;
features large; cheek-bones prominent; and the straps of his trowsers
unbuttoned, and flapping about his slippers. But, under this
unpromising exterior, we discerned a soul of great intelligence,
frankness, and brotherly kindness. Mrs. Todd has been a woman of great
beauty, and, though she has brought up a large family of children, is
still fresh and comely. Their eldest daughter is 19 years of age; and
John, to whom the "Lectures to Children" were dedicated, is now 14
years of age. The Doctor's insane mother, for whose sake he was first
led to employ his pen, has been dead for some years. His desire to
visit England is very strong. He had been appointed by the churches of
Massachusetts to visit those of England last year in the character of a
delegate; but the means of meeting the expenses of such a delegation
were not provided, and consequently the visit was not paid. It is
worthy of observation that the Doctor's books have been sold in England
far more extensively than in America; but from the English editions he
receives no profit, and even from the American ones very little. As it
may be the first time that English readers hear of John Todd as
_Doctor_ Todd, and as there is an impression that our American friends
bestow their literary honours too freely and indiscriminately,--which,
indeed, is true in reference to some scores of institutions,--nothing
being easier than to obtain a D.D.,--I would just observe that this
applies not to the New England Colleges. They are very chary of such
honours, and only confer that of D.D. on ministers of long standing and
high attainments. In the case of Mr. Todd it was most deservedly
bestowed.
Pittsfield is but a small town, of about 5,000 inhabitants. The
Governor of Massachusetts resided there, and was a deacon of a Baptist
Church. Dr. Todd presides over a Congregational Church. To the
principles of Congregationalism he is devoutly attached. While others
regard Presbyterianism and Congregationalism as matters of mere
geographical boundary, Todd could never be prevailed upon, even by the
most advantageous offers, to do the same. He said he had nailed his
flag to the mast, and would never abandon it. "I regard
Congregationalism," said he to me, "as a sort of a working-jacket: with
it on I can work with anybody, in any place, and in any way." With this
great and good man we exceedingly enjoyed a homely dinner and a few
hours' converse. In coming out, I observed before the door,
half-covered with snow, a beautiful model of the Temple of Theseus.
This was the work of the Doctor's own hands.
At 3-1/2 P.M. we left for Albany. At the station, before crossing the
Hudson, we observed in large letters the ominous words "Beware of
pickpockets!" On reaching the city we went to the "Delevan House," so
called after Mr. Delevan, who has done so much for the advancement of
temperance in America. The house is his property, but he does not
conduct it. He lives there as a lodger; and I was permitted to spend
the evening in conversation with him. The house is the largest
temperance hotel in the world. It will accommodate about 400 guests.
Those who keep it are religious people, and have a public
family-worship every evening, usually conducted by the master of the
house; but if a minister of any denomination be present, he is asked to
officiate. A bell is rung, and all who feel disposed to unite in the
worship assemble in a large room. On this occasion it was my privilege
to conduct the service; and in such a place, and under such
circumstances, it was to me an exercise of peculiar interest. A hymn
too was sung, and well sung,--the tune being led by the master of the
house, aided by his family.
The next morning, at half-past 7, we set off by railway to Utica, a
distance of 94 miles, which we did not accomplish in less than 6-1/2
hours, making an average of less than 15 miles an hour, and for which
we paid 2-1/2 dollars, or 10s. 6d. This journey led us through the
valley of the Mohawk, and that river was for the most part our constant
companion. The railway and the river seemed to be wedded to each
other,--the former conforming to all the whims and windings, and
turnings and twistings of the latter.
Utica is a small city, of about 14,000 inhabitants. Its progress has
been but slow. The houses are painted white, and appear neat and
comfortable. I was struck with the immense number of them that were
erected with their gable end to the street, and with a small portico
supported by two fluted columns. A large portion of the inhabitants are
Welsh, who have here four or five places of worship. The Rev. James
Griffiths, a man of great piety and worth, is the minister of the Welsh
Independents. At his house we were most kindly entertained during our
stay. On the Sabbath I preached for him twice in Welsh. The following
week we were taken to Remsen, eighteen miles off, to see the Rev. Mr.
Everett, whose farewell sermon on leaving Wales I had heard when quite
a boy,--and the Rev. Morris Roberts, to whom I had bidden adieu in
Liverpool sixteen years before. It was delightful to meet these
honoured brethren in their adopted home, after the lapse of so many
years. Remsen is quite a Welsh settlement; and these men both preside
over Welsh churches there. Mr. Everett is the editor of a Welsh Monthly
Magazine. In that periodical, as well as in his ministrations, he has
been unflinching in his denunciations of slavery. This has exposed him
to cruel persecutions. There are about 70,000 Welsh people in the
United States who worship in their own language. At Remsen I had to
deliver two addresses on the results of emancipation in the West
Indies. On our return to Utica, the friend who drove us happened
incidentally to mention that in that country they make the dogs churn!
"The dogs churn!" I said, "Yes," said he; "and I dare say they have a
churning-machine so worked at this house: let us call and see." It was
a farm-house. At the door about half-a-dozen chubby little children,
with fine rosy cheeks, were assembled to see the strangers. I began to
speak in English to the eldest, a boy about 10 years of age; but the
lad stared! He understood not a word I said.
Though born and so far brought up there, he knew nothing but Welsh! We
were gratified with an inspection of the machine for churning. It was
worked very much on the same principle as a treadmill, and exceedingly
disliked by the poor dog. Goats are sometimes made to perform the same
service. In several instances, we saw horses in like manner made to saw
wood, and admired the ingenuity of our cousins in turning to account
every particle of power they possess. "What is the difference," said
Dr. Beecher once to a ship-captain, "between an English sailor and a
Yankee one?" The answer was, "An English sailor can do a thing very
well in _one_ way, but the Yankee can do it in half-a-dozen ways."
LETTER XXXV.
A Peep at the House of Representatives in Albany--"The Chair is but a
Man," &c.--Sailing down the Hudson--Dr. Spring--His Morning
Sermon--Afternoon Service--Gough the great Lecturer--The Tract House
and Steam-presses--May-day in New York--Staten Island--Immigrants--A
hurried Glance.
On the 22nd we left Utica at 11 A.M., and reached Albany at 5 P.M. At
Schenectady Mr. Delevan got into the same carriage with us; and we had
his company to Albany. He had caused to be put into the hand of every
passenger by that train a tract on the claims of the Sabbath, a large
number of which he had printed at his own expense. He spends an immense
fortune in doing good, chiefly by means of the press.
In the evening I strolled out to see a little of Albany, the capital of
the State of New York. I gazed with interest on Dr. Sprague's Church,
and wandered until I came to a large building brilliantly lighted. It
was the State House or Capitol. The legislature was then in session. I
marched on, and got in without the least hinderance. There was no crowd
and no stir about the doors. A simple rail divided the part allotted to
the spectators from that which was used by the members. About a hundred
of the latter were present. The Senate, whose hall was in another part
of the same building, had been adjourned till next day. This was the
House of Representatives; and they seemed to be in the midst of a very
angry discussion. Their cheeks swelled with rage, or with--quids of
tobacco. A spittoon, constantly used, was placed by the side of each
member. They were rebelling against the speaker; and, of all mortals, I
never saw one in a more unenviable position than he. All that his
little hammer, his tongue, and his hands could do was of no avail. The
storm raged. The words "honourable member," "unparliamentary," "order,"
"chair," and "_in_-quiry," were bandied about in all directions. One of
the "honourable members," rushing out past me, said with a loud voice,
"I'll go and get a segar," &c. At last the speaker--poor fellow!--in
tones of humiliation and despair said, "The _chair_ is but a _man_;
and, if we err, we are ready to acknowledge our error."
The next day we left by the steam-boat "Roger Williams," and sailed
down the majestic Hudson to New York, a distance of 145 miles; fare one
dollar each. This river has so often been described by travellers that
I need not repeat the attempt.
The following day was Saturday. In the afternoon I met Dr. Spring at
the Tract House. After the usual salutation, he said, "Shall we hear
your voice at our place to-morrow afternoon?"--"I have no objection,
sir,--what time does your service commence?" "At 4 o'clock."--"Very
well." "Where shall I find you?"--"Where will you be?" "I shall be in
the pulpit five minutes before the time."--"Oh! _very_ well, _very_
well."
In the morning I went to hear the Doctor. His introductory prayer was
long. In it he prayed for Mexico--that it might have a "free and
religious government," and that the present war might result in the
overthrow there of the "man of sin;" but no reference to American
slavery. The Doctor, bear in mind, is an Old School Presbyterian, and a
supporter of the Colonization Society. His text was John v. 23: "That
all men should honour the Son, even as they honour the Father," &c. His
divisions were--
I. What honours are ascribed to the Father.
1. Appropriate names and titles. Jehovah, &c.
2. Ascription of most glorious attributes. Eternal--Immutable
--Omnipotent, &c.
3. Great and glorious works. Creation--Preservation--Redemption
--Atonement--Regeneration--Justification--Raising the dead--Judging the
world--Destroying it--Glory of the righteous--Punishment of the wicked.
(All these were supported by appropriate quotations of Scripture.)
4. Duties enjoined in reference to Him. Confidence--Worship, &c.
II. That the same honours are ascribed to the Son. (He went over each
of the above particulars, showing from Scripture their application to
the Son.)
III. That, therefore, the Son is properly and truly God.
1. We cannot believe the Scriptures would ascribe the same honours to
Him as to the Father, if He were not equal to the Father.
2. If He be not truly God, the Scriptures tempt to idolatry.
3. If He be not truly God, the accounts which the Scriptures give of
Him are self-contradictory.
4. If He be not truly God, there is no evidence from Scripture that
there is a God at all.
This was a massive and compact argument for the Divinity of Christ. It
occupied upwards of an hour in the delivery, and was read.
In the afternoon I took care to be in the pulpit five minutes before
the time. The Doctor shortly after came, and took his seat behind me.
This to me is always an annoyance,--I would almost as soon have a man
with me in bed as in the pulpit;--and in this instance it was
peculiarly so, as towards the close, although I had not exceeded forty
minutes, I felt quite persuaded that the Doctor was pulling at my
coat-tail, which led me rather abruptly to conclude. In this, however,
I was mistaken; and the Doctor assured me it was what he had never done
in his life, except in one instance,--and that was when the preacher,
having occupied two hours with his sermon, was entering upon a third.
In the evening of the 27th of April I heard, at the Tabernacle, New
York, the celebrated Gough deliver a lecture on Temperance. It was to
commence at 8 o'clock; but we had to be there an hour before the time,
in order to get a comfortable place. That hour was a dreary one. The
scraping of throats and the spitting were horrible. It seemed as if
some hundreds of guttural organs were uttering the awfully guttural
sentence, _"Hwch goch dorchog a chwech o berchill cochion."_