USA > Delaware > Methodism of the peninsula, or, Sketches of notable characters and events in the history of Methodism in the Maryland and Delaware peninsula > Part 5
USA > Maryland > Methodism of the peninsula, or, Sketches of notable characters and events in the history of Methodism in the Maryland and Delaware peninsula > Part 5
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Outside the line of his theological studies and pulpit and pastoral duties, John Henry seems to have been as unsophisticated as a child. In fact, in the common affairs of every-day life, he was manifestly deficient in what men call "common sense." He never mastered the simplest problems in domestic economy ; and provision for the household, and even the care of the pigs and the horse, devolved largely on his very capable companion. While residing at Camden, Delaware, his good wife one day requested him to go to the garden and get some potatoes for dinner. He soon returned with the report that he had examined all the vines and could find none. Bidding him to follow, Mrs. Henry took a hoe and showed him how to find the tempting tubers growing upon the roots. Some days after, she requested that he would gather a few squashes. As in the former case, he failed to bring any ; and, when questioned about it, in expostulatory style, as good wives are sometimes wont to do, he replied : " An' shure, Mrs. Henry, you can go see for yourself. I can find ne'er a single squash in the
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gearden, although I've dug up ivery vine !" With fine squashes lying all around, so intently was he occupied with the lesson his wife had given him in gathering potatoes, that he failed to see them, and insisted on finding them upon the roots, to the utter destruction of the squash harvest for that season.
The following winter he was, as usual, busy in his study one day, while Mrs. Henry was engaged in the back yard superintending the butchering of the pigs. His attention was attracted by the conversation concerning the pork, when a brand new and brilliant idea in domestic economy suddenly dawned upon him; and rushing out bareheaded, in gown and slippers, into the presence of his spouse, he thus advised her : "Mrs. Henry ; an' shure if I were in your place, I'd have the pags all cut up into homs!"
Like Billy Barnes, John Henry also once had an adventure with wasps. Unfortunately for him, however, it did not terminate so favorably. Stopping once over night with a Bro. Palmer, in Sussex, Delaware, soon after retiring, his lusty cries for help alarmed the household. "Sister Palmer ! sister Palmer !" cried he, in evident pain and terror, "what is this? Is the Daivil broke loose ? There's a fiend here a piercin' me with his arrows! O come quick ! It will kill me!" Mrs. Palmer and her husband rushed up stairs to find the terrified Irishman writhing in agony; and, on investigation, discovered that he was floundering amid a nest of enraged wasps, that by some means had become detached from a collar
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beam and covered up in his bed. The scene, suddenly illumined by the entrance of a tallow candle, can be better imagined than described; so at this point we will let the curtain drop and take our leave of this notable Irishman. He was a simple minded, single eyed, devoted and successful harvester of souls; and left his impress for good upon the Peninsula fields he helped to cultivate.
Not so marked in the grotesque characteristics peculiar to the typical Irishman as were Barnes and Henry, yet no less distinguished for devotion, eloquence and bravery have been some of the noble sons of Erin, who, as their successors, have contended for God and right on the battle field of the Peninsula. Among these medieval Irishmen, some of whom still live to bless the Church in other and distant localities, the most conspicuous, because of his long and very effective service in this territory, is Rev. Adam Wallace, D.D. His autobiography, which, by all means the Church should be permitted to place in her historical archives, would add much to the rich treasury of knowledge concerning this classic ground; and general Methodism can little afford to lose it. His series of letters in the Peninsula Methodist, under the caption of "Here and There on Snow Hill District," are doubtless but the outcropping veins and nuggets indicative of the rich bonanza lying beneath, and which his Irish pick and shovel and mint might soon turn into the literary marts and coffers of Methodism. The author of this sketch will attempt no analysis of the
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characteristics and accomplishments of this widely known divine. This belongs to his memoir. May it be many years before this shall be written. Neither will the writer attempt an extended review of Dr. Wallace's Peninsula labors and experiences, although the field and the memorial inscriptions are tempting, for reasons already intimated. It is properly the work of his own facile pen.
The Peninsula preacher whose ministerial life and labors stretch back over the last thirty-five years, has passed through many phases of experience, and wit- nessed astonishing changes. He entered upon his junior work, when the jagged edges of a rising cloud had just become visible above the far away horizon, and the reverberations of the distant thunders had just begun to make their ominous tremors felt along our peaceful shores. With anxious heart and bated breath, and clinging to his Master's cross; now swaying before the furious gusts of the tempests; sometimes starting in almost terror amid the terrific thunderbolts of the storm of civil convulsion and popular malice, that spent its fury upon him-through all, true as steel, he stood at his post. And now, still surviving and unscathed, with the cloud drifting out of sight, this faithful herald stands beneath Messiah's ensign; and, peacefully smil- ing, surveys the scene, with a clear bright heavens above him, and all around him our fields of Peninsula Methodism, ripening to the glorious harvest of his patient endurance and toil.
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The Peninsula itinerants of a quarter of a century ago were compelled, by force of circumstances, to stand midway between the political cannonading of the two extremes, without the least possibility of making peace with the excited and unreasoning gunners of either battery. The abolition crusader of the north proclaimed his wild theory that, under all circumstances, slave- holding was, per se, a sin. His hot shot and exploding shells made no discrimination between the anti-slavery Methodist preacher, who held that, while "a great evil" that " ought to be extirpated," slavery and slaveholding Methodists were to be dealt with by Christian, peaceable and legal measures, and according to circumstances; and the rabid pro-slaveryist, who regarded the chattel fea- ture of the institution, with all its harrowing enormities, as God ordained. In like manner, blinded by their frenzy, the Southern fire-eaters thought they did their God as great a service by striking down the anti- slaveryist as the abolitionist; and as he was much nearer-in fact within hailing distance of the vengeful batteries-he was, by so much, the greater sufferer. Another peculiarity of the anti-slaveryist's position was the Christly delicacy of his relations. He naturally sympathized with everything and everybody that prom- ised to aid in the extirpation of the great evil; and could not well " fire back" in return for the abolition- ist's volleys, without seeming to be on the wrong side. He had a commission to preach the Gospel to congre- gations that were largely slaveholders of the extreme
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view; and if he offended them at a point where they were so sensitive, his mission with them and their sym- pathizers was ended; nor could he any longer have access to their poor slaves, perishing for the Gospel of spiritual freedom. No set of men were ever more heartily despised, or more violently abused, than the Methodist preachers of the Peninsula, during all this fearful crisis ; and perhaps no set of men ever more nearly did what their Divine Master would himself have done, had that crisis been the time of his advent, and our Peninsula the theatre of his work. As a class, they rendered "to Cæsar the things which were Cæsar's, and to God the things which were God's." They were branded as cowards, however, from both extremes. Men sometimes forget that it often requires less bravery to fight Egyptians than it does to "stand still and see the salvation of God." If there are crowns waiting in heaven for men who have been distinguished, as Christ and his angels see it, for moral heroism; some of the brightest will be worn by Peninsula Methodist Epis- copal ministers, who, through the wild, terrific storm now overpast, stood for God, and country and human liberty. The incidents briefly sketched in the following paragraphs, were substantially duplicated in hundreds of instances, and in the experiences of almost every faith- ful Methodist Episcopal preacher, who, during those perilous times, occupied Peninsular appointments. Nor was it alone in Virginia that they had such battles to fight. The feeling was scarcely less hostile in Delaware
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and Maryland. The writer remembers the stampeding of a portion of a Delaware congregation at the reading from the pulpit of :
"Ye slaves of sin and hell Your liberty receive ;"
and will never forget the storm he raised in a Maryland congregation by the announcement, one Sunday, that on a certain night he would preach in the colored people's church. In another place, the ministers present were made to feel the weight of the public indignation, when they invited a colored Bishop to preach at a camp- meeting, from the rear of the stand, to the colored con- gregation encamped with us. The young bloods of the polished society of Kent, Del., gathered a great com- pany, many of them "lewd fellows of the baser sort ;" and waited on us, with the demand for a recall of the appointment, and the alternative threat of riot, blood and destruction, should we persist in the outrage against public sentiment. But Bishop Wayman preached; and C. I. Thompson, James Flannery and the writer, sat there by him, while his eloquent words were sometimes well-nigh drowned by the great murmur of discontent and yells of threatened revenge that alarmed the denizens of the camp. But to our story.
In 1854, Rev. Adam Wallace, a newly married young itinerant, was appointed to Northampton circuit, the "Dixie" of the then Philadelphia Conference. While the prominent members professedly accepted the teach-
4
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ings of the Discipline on slavery as right; they were so, seriously intimidated by popular prejudice, that they admonished the young pastor to delay reading the General Rules; and not on any account invite the colored members to come down from the galleries to commune around the altar. To neither suggestion did the quiet Irishman yield. He both read publicly the Rules-that on slavery included-and invited the poor negroes to the same sacramental table where their masters had just communed. As they approached the altar, about half the congregation rudely stampeded from the house. An indignation meeting was then extemporized outside; and a committee appointed to notify the preacher to desist from the "incendiary "' practice, or leave the state in so many hours. At the afternoon appointment, fearing an outbreak of resent- ment, the negroes declined the pastor's invitation to the altar. In the Southern Methodist Churches, the old custom met with no opposition from the rabble, because it was known they had no sympathy with anti-slavery ideas. There was much loud talk and great excite- ment; but the intrepid Irishman urged that even the Devil would respect them the more for doing right ; and insisted on adhering to the principle of one table for all the Lord's disciples. Making a tour of the Peninsula, Bishop Scott opportunely visited the circuit at that time. The leading members of the charge gathered at the parsonage to greet him. In their presence, the pastor raised the question of yielding to this unreasonable pre-
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judice by sending the sacramental elements to the galle- ries. The good Bishop's quiet and deliberate, "I would not do it," settled the question.
Not long afterwards, while driving with his young wife, Mr. Wallace reined up at a place where two white men, amid much excitement, were engaged in tieing, hand and foot, a venerable colored man, for the purpose of taking him off to a "trader," to be sold South from his home and family. In the struggle, the poor old man had fallen in the public road; and the pretended owners, one of whom had married the widow and the other the daughter of the old negro's former master, were needlessly bruising him, with knees planted on his breast, to tighten the cords about his suffering wrists. Leaping from his carriage, the preacher, with an expres- sion of becoming contempt, pushed away the principal offender. Bristling up, and sulphurous with the pro- fanity of the popular "chivalry" of the times, the other told him to mind his own business. The Rev. and really chivalrous Irishman, coolly informed the two vandals that it was his business to fight the Devil wherever he found him; that this aged man was not resisting ; that if they had the right to sell him, which he much doubted, the man would accompany them unbound ; but that he, the preacher, intended to follow them and contest their right to kidnap and sell the poor old man. He then spoke words of kindly sympathy to the maltreated negro, and brushed the gravel and dust from his grey-hair, as he slowly arose; when, climbing
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into a horse-cart, the "owners" and slave drove off to the market.
The occurrence was in front of a country store, and in the presence of several neighbors; and, during the melee, Mrs. Wallace sat in the carriage, pale and tremb- ling with apprehension. Mr. Mears, the proprietor of the store, invited the preacher and his wife to stay for dinner, where they learned the name of the old man; that he was a member of Garrison's chapel, which he had helped to build ; and that his old master had given him his liberty ten years before. The preacher learned further that these men were considered little better than outlaws and desperate fellows, who would not scruple to " knife " the man who should further attempt to defeat . them in their purpose. No one, who had witnessed the transaction, would consent to aid him ; a good Local Preacher implored him to leave the circuit on a visit, until the storm he had in all probability raised should blow over ; but the preacher's Irish blood was up; and, "taking his life in his hand," he drove after the ruffians, leaving his wife at the parsonage; and soon ascertained that Sam had been sold for $300, and taken to the county jail, where a "gang" was being made up to start in a few days for Richmond.
His appeal to attorneys, in poor Sam's behalf, was met with the admonition that perhaps he had better go home, and say nothing further about the matter, lest he should be the means of stirring up an insurrection. Finally, a retired lawyer residing on a farm not far
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from the parsonage, agreed to sue out a writ enjoining Sam's removal, until the Magistrate's Court should look into the matter. The intervening days were anxious and painful. Many of the official brethren called at the par- sonage, to express their dread of anticipated troubles. The next Sabbath sermons of the aroused Irishman were tinged with brimstone ; and his public prayers reminded the Almighty of the sighing of the prisoner, and invoked his right arm for his protection.
A prominent Methodist, Mr. Garrison, called on Monday morning, to attend the preacher to court, and act as his friend and protector. The Chief Justice on the bench of six, was a man who had begun life as an ostler; but, being an expert gambler, had won so largely of spendthrift sons of the F. F. V's, that he had become the owner of many of their paternal plantations ; and now, although despised for his origin and flagrant im- moralities, on account of his wealth, he stood among the foremost in good society. Of this man's influence Mr. Wallace was greatly afraid ; but when the case of "the negro, Sam " came up and was explained, he was over- joyed to hear the old reprobate give vent to his indigna- nation in the following phillipic : "Gentlemen ; this negro's master gave him his liberty for long and faithful service. You and I have the same right and privilege. Suppose after we have chosen to do so, and are in our graves, some irresponsible vagabonds should assume to trample on our wishes in this manner ; should there not be, in law and public opinion, some stern rebuke for such
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vandalism? My opinion, gentlemen, is, that warrants should be issued for the arrest of-and-forthwith, for doing an act which no honorable Virginian can look upon with anything but disapprobation."
Before the warrants could be issued, the kidnappers had hastily decamped for parts unknown; and the over- joyed and grateful Sam was discharged from unlawful custody, to return to his little home and his distracted wife and children. As, on the following Sabbath morning, the pastor arose in the pulpit of Garrison's chapel to an- nounce the opening hymn, glancing toward the gallery, he discovered in his accustomed place and most con- spicuous among his fellows, "Uncle" Sam with his glowing face all wet with rolling tears of gratitude. . The sight awakened the crowding memories of the exciting contest, the rescue, the return of light and joy to the little cabin; and, overcome by his emotions, the preacher responded to Sam's salutation with copious tears of sympathetic joy.
The slaves of the South seemed to have become, in- stinctively or supernaturally, possessed of the conviction that somehow the Lord would interfere in their behalf; but were in doubt as to whether they ought to make a dash for freedom, or stand still and see God's salvation. The Northampton slaves often secretly consulted Mr. Wallace as to their proper course; and were always encouraged to expect deliverance from the God of Moses and Israel; but were advised to patiently pray and wait his time; which, the signs indicated, could not be very
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long delayed. Such was his advice, one dark night in a thicket, to forty or fifty slaves of one mistress, who were meditating flight to escape if possible from the heart- breaking exigencies of the dubious and cruel auction block, which appeared to threaten them.
Ten years after that weird and memorable night, this Irish prophet of deliverance from God was again in Virginia-this time as Presiding Elder. For two years we had been shut out by the war. But when Chaplain Vaugh Smith, at the head of a detachment of Federal soldiers, crossed the line and swept the shore of organ- ized resistance, Mr. Wallace followed the standard of the union, and reopened our Virginia Churches. Most of the people sympathized with the rebellion, and were bitter in their hostility to the Methodist Episcopal Church ; but a few remained loyal to Church and coun-
try. Mr. Lincoln's emancipation proclamation had just taken effect, and the old slave owners were very sore, while the unmanacled slaves were correspondingly elated.
Our Irish Elder was holding quarterly meeting at Onancock. It was a beautiful Sabbath morning ; and, from an early hour, numerous squads of colored people wended their way towards the beloved old Church. Many whites also came, but they were generally either crest-fallen or angry. The Lovefeast was opened ; but enthusiasm was at so low an ebb, among the ex-masters and mistresses, that the Elder soon invited the denizens of the galleries to "let their joys be known." A grand voice, remembered as having been heard at Garrison's
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ten years before, led the singing in the stirring words, "Am I a soldier of the cross?" and then the speaking began. Soon one of the leading spirits of the midnight conference in the thicket of ten years ago, and which the preacher had almost forgotten, arose and said :
"Christian Fren's; I's happy soul an' body dis mornin'. It's de brightest day I's eber seen. I hearn tell dat our good preacher Wallace, dat used to 'spense de Gospel to us years ago, had got to be a 'Sidin' Elder, and was a gwine to be heah; an' I started befo' sun up to come heah an' see his face onct mo' (sensation and " Yes, praise de Lord !") A comin' along dis mornin', I felt like de lame dat kin leap as de hart in a wilder- ness ; an' my tongue was unloosened to sing hallelujah ! (" Amen !") Dis 'sidin' Elder dat sets dere in de pul- pit, told us, long time ago, dat salvation would come. ("Glory !") He told us one night, in de thicket, when our troubles was as deep as de ragin' waters ob de sea, dat de mornin' would break some time. When some ob us was about to run away to try to 'tain our freedom, he says to us,-' Hold on; hold fast to yer anchor in de mighty God; you folks dat runs away is afeared. Stan' still, till Moses smite de waters, an' ole Pharaoh is broked wid a rod ob iron !' Some of our people couldn't see de light; but dey sees it now, glory to de blessid Lamb! (Mighty shoutings of "Yes ; yes," and "Praise de Lord !")
" De preacher settin dere says to me, says he ; 'Jesse, mind you don't act de fool. Don't let de colored people
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disbehave. Your time will come, shore as you live.'" And then he continued, reaching out his hand toward the occupant of the pulpit, "Preacher; bless de Lord ! De time you told us 'bout is heah shore 'nuff, dis free, blessed Sunday; an', thank de Lord ! we is free in body, free in soul, an' on our gladsome march to Heaven !" Thus did the happy Irishman, after many days, find and gather the bread he had cast on the troubled waters of this modern Egypt.
At Garrison's chapel, in the olden times, great crowds of slaves were wont to assemble; and, while the white members, on protracted meeting occasions, rallied around the altar within, the sable soldiers of the cross would repair to the open air, build a camp-fire; and, under the starry canopy of the heavens, form a circle for a holy shout. Going out one night while their meeting was in progress, Mr. Wallace found some wicked young men enjoying the sport of throwing blazing pine-knots within this circle and among the weeping penitents. His warning to desist being disregarded, he unceremoniously knocked down two of the ringleaders, who were so com- pletely demoralized at the preacher's temerity, that they forgot to hit him back. His rencontre in the case of Sam had gained him a reputation for courage. Even a Virginia rabble could admire such a display of physi- cal Christianity; and when these disconcerted young fellows, so far recovered as to begin to swear they were going to thrash the Irishman, they were hooted down by their companions, who frankly admitted the preacher had served them right.
**
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Not only did Adam Wallace display physical courage in dealing with the "chivalrous" roughs of that day and section; but, amid all the exciting questions, in Church and State, growing out of the popular frenzy on the questions of slavery and secession, his moral spinal column was a tower of strength to the cause of truth and patriotism. The Methodist preacher who was brave enough to vote an honest "no," on the Philadelphia Conference "Union" resolutions of 1861, has never ceased to enjoy the respect and fraternal regard of his brethren, who voted an honest and enthusiastic "aye" on the same memorable paper; but there remains only con- tempt for the few cowardly time servers, whose careful sentiments, through all those perilous times, were adroitly fitted so as to appear responsive to any and every opinion that might be uttered in their presence. The unmanly, pusillanimous poltroon of a preacher, who, for a slice of popular bread and butter, became literally, "all things to all men," was only a curse to the Methodist Episcopal Church of the Peninsula, during her fiery ordeal ; and was very largely responsible for the seces- sions by which, at various points, she was finally con- vulsed and dismembered. But the dough men are all dead or left behind. In her new and aggressive career, the Church had no work for sneaking imbeciles ; nor had men outside, of either party, any respect for them ; and they have become silent partners of Othello. Like Mr. Wallace, most of the Methodist preachers who stood at Peninsular posts of responsibility during these
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memorable years, were living men, of sturdy arms, perpendicular backbones, intelligent brains and loving hearts ; and through their manly labors, by God's blessing, the Methodist Episcopal Church emerges from the smoke of her greatest battle-field, bearing proudly before her leader, Christ, the trophies of her greatest victories.
While by no means so quaint and peculiar as Barnes and Henry, the present generation of Irish preachers in the Wilmington Conference, are not without the striking characteristics of the typical Irishman. It is yet too soon to write memorial sketches of them; but the author may be pardoned for suggesting that, unless your rapier is sharp and your coat of mail of the best construction, you had better not invite a rencontre with one of them on the arena of repartee. One of our Irish coterie, whose name begins with the significant "O," on a certain quarterly conference Saturday, was seated in a Caroline County layman's parlor, with Rev. John Hough, Mr. A. P. Sorden, Rev. Dr. T. J. Quigley, Presiding Elder, and the writer. Said the Irishman : "I've got a tooth-" leaving the sentence unfinished, to dig at the offending member with his tooth-pick. "So have I," said the writer; and so said all, ending with the staid and sober Doctor of Divinity. Again the Irishman spoke, saying: "I've got a tooth with a hole in it ;" which was followed with the same response, by the quartet in order. He then returned to the charge with : "An' shure; I've got a tooth that's not got any
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