The Negro in The American Rebellion

“The Dunkards, a peculiar religious society, numerous in some of the Western States, at their recent annual meeting discussed the question, ‘Shall we receive colored persons into the church? and shall we salute them with the holy kiss?’ It was decided that they should be received into the church, but that all the members were to be left to their own choice and taste in regard to saluting their colored brethren, with the understanding, however, that all who refused to do so were to be regarded as weak.”

In the year 1844, I visited a town in the State of Ohio, where a radical abolitionist informed me that he owned a pew in the village church, but had not attended worship there for years, owing to the proslavery character of the preacher.

“Why don’t you sell your pew?” I inquired.

“I offered to sell it, last week, to a man, for ten dollars’ worth of manure for my garden,” said he; “but the farmer, who happens to be one of the pillars of the church, wants it for five dollars.”

“What did it cost?” I inquired.

“Fifty dollars,” was the reply.

“Are they very proslavery, the congregation?” I asked.

“Yes: they hate a black man worse than pizen,” said he.

“Have you any colored family in your neighborhood?” I inquired.

“We have,” said he, “a family about, four miles from here.”

“Are they very black?” I asked.

“Yes: as black as tar,” said he.

“Now,” said I, “my friend, I can put you in the way of selling your pew, and for its worth, or near what it cost you.”

“If you can, I’ll give you half I get,” he replied.

“Get that colored family, every one of them, take them to church, don’t miss a single Sunday; and, my word for it, in less than four weeks, they, the church-folks, will make you an offer,” said I.

An arrangement was made with Mr. Spencer, the black man, by which himself, wife, and two sons, were to attend church four successive Sabbaths; for which, they were to receive in payment a hog. The following Sunday, Mason’s pew was the centre of attraction. From the moment that the Spencer Family arrived at the church, till the close of the afternoon service, the eyes of the entire congregation were turned towards “the niggers.” Early on Monday, Mr. Mason was called upon by the “pillar,” who said, “I’ve concluded to give you ten dollars’ worth of manure for your pew, Mr. Mason.”

“I can’t sell it for that,” was the reply. “I ask fifty dollars for my pew; and I guess Mr. Spencer will take it, if he likes the preaching,” continued the abolitionist.

“What!” said the ‘pillar,’ “does that nigger want the pew?”

“He’ll take it if the preaching suits him,” returned Mason.

The churchman left with a flea in his ear. The second Sunday, the blacks were all on hand to hear the lining of the first hymn. The news of the pew being occupied by the negroes on the previous occasion had spread far and wide, and an increase of audience was the result. The clergyman preached a real negro-hating sermon, apparently prepared for the express purpose of driving the blacks away. However, this failed; for the obnoxious persons were present in the afternoon. Mr. Mason was called upon on Monday by another weighty member, who inquired if the pew was for sale, and its price.

“Fifty dollars,” was the reply.

“I’ll give you twenty-five dollars,” said the member.

“Fifty dollars, and nothing less,” was Mason’s answer.

The weighty member left, without purchasing the pew. Being on a lecturing tour in the vicinity, I ran into town, occasionally, to see how the matter progressed; for I had an eye to one-half of the proceeds of the sale of the pew.

During the week, Spencer came, complained of the preaching, saying that his wife could not and would not stand it, and would refuse to attend again: whereupon, I went over, through a dreary rain, and promised the wife a shilling calico-dress if she would fulfil the agreement. This overcame her objections. I also arranged that two colored children of another family, near by, should be borrowed for the coming Sunday. Mason was asked how the Spencers liked the preaching. He replied that the blacks were well pleased, and especially with the last sermon, alluding to the negro-hating discourse.

The following Sunday found Mason’s pew filled to overflowing; for the two additional ones had left no space unoccupied. That Sunday did the work completely; for the two borrowed boys added interest to the scene by taking different courses. One was tumbling about over the laps of the older persons in the pew, attracting rather more attention than was due him, and occasionally asking for “bed and butter;” while the smaller one slept, and snored loud enough to be heard several pews away. On Monday morning following, Mr. Mason was called upon. The pew was sold for fifty dollars cash. I received my portion of the funds, and gave Spencer’s wife the calico gown. Mason called in the few hated radicals, and we had a general good time.

During the same lecturing tour, I was called to visit the village of Republic, some thirty miles from Sandusky.

On taking a seat in one of the cars where other passengers had seated themselves, I was ordered out, with the remark, that “Niggers ain’t allowed in here.” Refusing to leave the car, two athletic men, employed by the road, came in at the bidding of the conductor, and, taking me by the collar, dragged me out.

“Where shall I ride?” I asked. “Where you please; but not in these cars,” was the reply. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have declined going by the train. But I had an appointment, and must go. As the signal for starting was given, I reluctantly mounted a flour-barrel in the open freight-car attached to the train, and away we went through the woods.

From my position, I had a very good view of the passengers in the nearest car, and must confess that they did not appear to be the most refined individuals. The majority looked like farmers. There were some drovers, one of whom, with his dog at his feet, sat at the end window: the animal occasionally got upon the seat by the side of its master, when the latter would take him by the ears, and pull him off. The drover seemed to say to me, as he eyed me sitting on the barrel in the hot sun, “You can’t come where my dog is.” At the first stopping-place, a dozen or more laboring-men, employed in repairing the road, got on the train with their pickaxes and shovels. They, too, took seats in a passenger-car. I had a copy of Pope’s poems, and was trying to read “The Essay on Man;” but almost failed, on account of the severity of the sun. However, a gentleman in the car, seeing my condition, took pity on me, and, at the next stopping-place, kindly lent me his umbrella; which was no sooner hoisted than it drew the attention of the drover at one of the end windows, and some of the Irishmen at the other, who set up a jolly laugh at my expense. Up to this time, the conductor had not called on me for my ticket; but, as the train was nearing the place of my destination, he climbed upon the car, came to me, and, holding out his hand, said, “I’ll take your ticket, sir. “I have none,” said I. “Then, I’ll take your fare,” continued he, still holding ont his hand. “How much is it?” I inquired. “A dollar and a quarter,” he replied. “How much do you charge those in the passenger-car?” – “The same,” was the response. “Do you think that I will pay as much as those having comfortable seats? No, sir. I shall do no such thing,” said I. “Then,” said the conductor, “you must get off.” – “Stop your train, and I’ll get off,” I replied. “Do you think I’ll stop these cars for you?”

“Well,” said I, “you can do as you please. I will not pay full fare, and ride on a flour-barrel in the hot sun.” – “Since you make so much fuss about it, give me a dollar, and you may go,” said the conductor. “I’ll do no such thing,” I replied. “Why? Don’t you wish to pay your fare?” asked he. “Yes,” I replied. “I will pay what’s right; but I’ll not pay you a dollar for riding on a flour-barrel in the hot sun.” – “Then, since you feel so terribly bad about it, give me seventy-five cents, and I’ll say no more about it,” said the officer. “No, sir: I shall not do it,” said I. “What do you mean to pay?” asked he. “How much do you charge per hundred for freight?” I asked. “Twenty-five cents per hundred,” answered the conductor. “Then I’ll pay thirty-seven and a-half cents,” said I; “for I weigh one hundred and fifty pounds.” The astonished man eyed me from head to feet; while the drover and the Irish laborers, who were piled up at each window of the passenger-car, appeared not a little amused at what they supposed to be a muss between the conductor and me.

Finally, the officer took a blank account out of his pocket, and said, “Give me thirty-seven and a-half cents, and I’ll set you down as freight.” I paid over the money, and saw myself duly put among the other goods in the freight-car.

A New-York journal is responsible for the following: —

“It is not many months since a colored man came to this city from abroad. A New-York merchant had been in business connection with him for several years; and from that business connection had realized a fortune, and felt that he must treat him kindly. When Sunday came, he invited him to go to church with him. He went; and the merchant took him into his own pew, near the pulpit, in a fashionable church. There was a prominent member of the church near the merchant, who saw this with great amazement. He could not be mistaken: it was a genuine ‘nigger,’ and not a counterfeit. Midway in his sermon, the minister discovered him, and was so confused by it, that he lost his place, and almost broke down.

“After service, the man who sat near the merchant went to him, and in great indignation asked, —

“What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“That you should bring a nigger into this church?”

“It is my pew.”

“Your pew, is it? And, because it is your pew, you must insult the whole congregation!”

“He is intelligent and well educated,” answered the merchant.

“What do I care for that? He is a nigger!”

“But he is a friend of mine.”

“What of that? Must you therefore insult the whole congregation?”

“But he is a Christian, and belongs to the same denomination.”

“What do I care for that? Let him worship with his nigger Christians.”

“But he is worth five million dollars,” said the merchant.

“Worth what?”

“Worth five million dollars.”

“For God’s sake introduce me to him,” was the reply.