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^
THB NEW YORK PUBUG UBRARY
RBPBRBNCB DEPARTMENT
This book is under no cirenmsUuioes to be
taken from the Building
•
Alio ?^ ISi^
*^V"l wm^ *V|^
■
•
■
i
•
form 41*
LIFE
or
WILLIAM CAPERS, D.D.,
OHB or THE BISHOPS Or
THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH j
INCLUDING AN
jDt0H0grap|g.
BY
WILLIAM M.^GHTMAN, D.D.
PREEODENT OF WOFFOBD COLLKOI.
Nashvillb, Tenn. :
PuBLXSHiNQ House op the M. E. Church, South.
Barbee & Smith, Aqents.
1902.
^^
THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
34350 1
tILKN FOUNOATIONt.
1005
r
Contents.
I,
I
m
PasFAOi ^ • ^ 4 ...••• is
AUTOBIOO&APHT •••« 11
CHAPTER I.
Value of autobiography — ^Mr. Gapers appointed Superintendent of a
Mission to the Creek Indians — Stationed at MilledgeTiUe, Ga.. 281
CHAPTEB II.
Stationed in Charleston — Editor of the Wesleyan Journal — Appointed
Presiding Elder — Defence of Bishop Soule's Sermon — ^Elected Dele-
gate to the British Conference ..m.... 248
CHAPTER III.
Embarks in the John Jay — ^Voyage — Reception in England — Estimate
of the leading Wesleyan preachers — Resolutions of the British
Conference — Visits Dr. Adam Clarke at Hay don Hall — Return
▼oyage 264
CHAPTER IV.
Invitation to go to Baltimore— Missions to the blacks established-
Results of these Missions 288
CHAPTER V.
Elected to a Professorship in Franklin College, 0a. — His own humble
appreciation of his scholastic abilities — Seyere illness — Castile Sel-
by — Stationed in Columbia — Correspondence with Dr. Cooper.- 803
^ CHAPTER VI.
yL Miss Jane A. Faust — Miss Maxwell — An awakening sermon — Rhymes
— Dr. Capers removes to Charleston — General Conference of 18W
f^ --Is offered tiie Presidency of LaGrange College 817
^ (iiij
vr CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
Hospitality — Rev. John Hutchinson — The little mail-carrier and
the overcoat — Outlay of benevolence speedily returned, and
doubled *. 832
CHAPTER VIII.
Troubles in the Church in Charleston — Transferred to the Georgia
Conference, and stationed at Savannah — Lewis Myers — Delivers a
eulogy on Lafayette 839
CHAPTER IX.
Removal to Columbia — Accepts the Professorship of Moral and Intel-
lectual Philosophy in the South Carolina College — Reasons for an
early resignation — Denominational education 852
CHAPTER X.
Lays the corner-stone of the Cokesbury School — George HoUoway —
Visits Georgia — Stationed in Charleston — Congregational singing —
Appointed Editor of the Southern Christian Advocate — Great fire
in Charleston — Collections for rebuilding the churches — Centenary
of Methodism 862
CHAPTER XI.
General Conference of 1840 — Conversion of his son William — Ap-
pointed Missionary Secretary for the South — Preaches the funeral
sermon of Mrs. Andrew 871
CHAPTER XII.
Removes from Oxford to Charleston — Makes the tour of the South-
western Conferences — ^Visits his aunt in Kentucky — Incidents of
travel — Maum Rachel 888
CHAPTER XIII.
General Conference at New Tork — Debate on Finley's resolntioii^
Incipient measures for a division of the Church 898
CONTENTS.
OHAPTBB XIY.
Bleoted and ordained Bishop— First tour of Episcopal Tisitfttto]
TraTels through the border territory of the Virginia Confer-
enoe •• • •••• • 418
CHAPTER XV.
Second tour of visitations — The far West — Trayels through the
Indian Territory, Arkansas, and Texas 426
CHAPTER XVI.
Dr. Bascom visits South Carolina — His mind and manners — ^Meeting
of the Bishops and Commissioners of the Church suit called by
Bishop Soule — ^Bishop Capers's third and fourth tours of visita-
tions 489
CHAPTER XVII.
General Conference at St Louis — Fifth tour of visitations — ^Writes
his Autobiography — Illness at Augusta — Sixth tour — Correspond-
ence 451
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Methodist itinerant system — Its suitableness to the expanding
population of the country — Statistics — Seventh tour of visita-
tions 469
CHAPTER XIX.
Eighth tour of visitations — Failing health — General Conference at
Columbus, Ga. — Last tour — Illness and death 482
CHAPTER XX.
Personnel of Bishop Capers — ^Intellectual character — Conversational
powers — Religious experience^Style of preaching— Theology of
the John Wesley school — Administrative capacity — Family feelings
— ^Belief in a special Providence — Disinterestedness — Results of
his ministry 492
preface*
Thb writer of the following memoir deems it
proper to state that shortly after the death of bis
honored and lamented friend, the Rev. Bishop
Capers, an application was made to him by the
family of the deceased to undertake the prepara-
tion of a biography. This application, although it
furnished a touching proof of personal attachment
and regard, he was at the time constrained to de-
cline, under the conviction that the pressure of
engagements in a new and important field of labor
would not allow him the time and leisure demanded
by such an undertaking. The lapse of a couple of
years having supplied no biographer, he yielded to
a renewed application, and consented to make the
attempt. He was encouraged by the consideration
that his venerable friend had left a minute account
of the early years of his active and varied life, bring-
ing the narrative nearly to the point of time at
which the writer was favored to form a personal
(vii)
Vlll PREFACE.
acquaintance with him, to enjoy his friendship,
and to possess many opportunities, in the in-
timacy of daily intercourse, to study the develop-
ments of his mind and character. His aim has
been to draw the portrait of his friend just as the
vivid recollections of thirty years presented him to
the mental vision ; aiming at simple exactness and
fidelity to truth in the picture. The lessons taught
by the life of this eminent, useful, and beloved
minister of Christ are of great value to the Church,
and should not be lost or forgotten. May this
volume, which presents the memorabilia of that life,
be the means of perpetuating in the world not only
the impression of its excellences, but the living
spirit of grace in Christ Jesus, which was the source
of all its sanctity and usefulness.
WoFFCAD College, S. G.
LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS, 1).D.
Iluolhctions of Spelf
IN MY PAST LIFE.
f WAS born January 26, 1790, at my father's
winter residence, (his plantation,) on Bull-Head
Swamp, in the Prrish of St. Thomas, South Caro-
lina, some twenty miles from Charleston : a place
which at the present time might be accounted no
place ; though it was then valuable, and had served
to make my forefathers comfortable, and to keep them
so for several generations. Indeed, it could have
been no mean place at the time of my birth ; for
when, some four years afterwards, my father re-
moved to Georgetown District, it was with the pro-
ceeds of the sale of this Bull-Head plantation, as
I have heard him say, that he purchased a planta-
tion on the island just by Georgetown, than which
there are now no lands in the State more valuable.
It is fair to say, however, that the change was then
only beginning which transferred the culture of rice
from the inland swamps, with their reservoirs of
water, to the tide-lands ; where only, for the last
(11)
12 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
half century, this grain has been produced for
market.
Our name, Capers, I suppose to be derived from
France, and the first of the name in South Caro-
lina were Huguenots. Of this, however, I am not
certain, nor is it of any consequence. I remember
to have heard no more from my father about it than
that he had never seen the name in any English
catalogue of names. Those of the name in Beau-
fort District, South Carolina, who are descended
from the same original stock with us, say that the
name is French, and that our ancestor was of the
Huguenots ; and I dare say they are right.
My father's name was William ; and that of his
father and grandfather, Kichard. Of my father's
father, I know little more than that he died in
middle life, leaving two sons, George Sinclair and
William, and no daughter. After his death, his
widow, my grandmother, having contracted an un-
happy marriage, my father's uncle. Major Gabriel
Capers, of Christ Church Parish, became his foster-
father, and did nobly for him. He had five (or
more) daughters, but no son, and my father became
his son in all possible respects. My great-grand-
father survived his son many years : a large healthy
fat man of peculiar manners ; dressing in osnaburgs
and plains, (a kind of coarse woollen,) at home,
and in broadcloth and silks, stiffened with excess
of gold lace and a powdered wig, when he went
abroad. A different kind of man was my father,
whose name I cannot mention without emotion,
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 18
after thirty-eight years since I saw him buried.
I have studied his character with intense interest,
and honor his memory in every feature of it with
my whole soul. A chivalrous soldier of the Revo-
lution was he, whose ardent patriotism cooled not
to the last of life ; and yet, after a few years in the
Legislature following the establishment of peace,
he held no civil office whatever, and was seldom
seen on public occasions, except in his office as
Major of Brigade, to muster the troops. He was a
military man — the war of the Revolution had made
him so — and to muster a brigade seemed his high-
est recreation. But no one I ever knew was more
a man of peace than my father was. Social and
unselfish, generous, kind, and gentle, he loved not
war. I dare say his nature was impulsive, but it
was the opposite of passionate. Benevolence sup-
plied his strongest incentives, and the serving of
others seemed to be his favorite mode of serving
himself. I never knew him to be involved in a per-
sonal difficulty but once ; and then it was on ac-
count of a wrong done by an unreasonable neigh-
bor to one of his negroes. His education had been
interrupted by the Revolutionary war, and was
therefore imperfect ; but he had a clear and strong
understanding, was fond of Natural Philosophy
and Mechanics, wrote with ease aiid perspicuity,
and in conversation was eminently engaging. He
was born October 13, 1768; just at the right
time, he was fond to saj'', that he might have a full
share in the war of his country's independence.
14 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
And yet, with the Butlers, of South Carolina, (eoni
of a worthy sire who did his country good service,)
I have to complain that my father's name does not
appear in any history of the American Revolution.
There is, indeed, a small volume, by the late Chan-
cellor James, in which his name is mentioned, and
we are told of his giving several thousand dollars*
(I think it was) for a blanket, and several hundred
for a penknife; and some passing compliment is
paid to his courage and devotion to the country ;
and besides this I have seen nothing more. And
yet I am bound to claim for him that he fought with
the bravest and best, first as a lieutenant in the
second regiment, when General Moultrie was
Colonel, Marion Lieutenant-Colonel, and Horry a
Captain ; and afterwards, till the close of the war,
as one of General Marion's captains, and his inti-
mate friend.
He was one of the defenders of Charleston in
the battle of Fort Sullivan, (Fort Moultrie ;) was in
the battle of Eutaw; was at the siege of Savannah,
where Pulaski fell, and not far from him at that fatal
moment; and was at the battle of Rugelj^'s Mills,
which happened after his escape from imprison-
ment in Charleston, and before he had rejoined
Marion. Indeed, he was there in search of Marion,
whom he expected to find with General Gates, but
found not, as he had gone on an expedition to Fort
* Such was Uie depreciation of what was called ** Continental
oMwey."
AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 1£
Motte. At Stono, where the lamented Laurens
fell^ he was present and fought like himself; at the
siege of Charleston he was one of its defenders,
and one of those who accompanied Major Huger
on the service, which on their return proved fatal
to that gallant officer, by a false alarm, through the
inadvertence of a sentinel, whereby many lost their
lives by the fire of their own countrymen from
their own lines of defence; besides numerous
skirmishes which have never found a record in the
books, though they contributed no mean quota to
the defence of the country.
The silence of the books to the contrary notwith-
standing, I might adduce something like proof of
Marion's friendship for him, from a conversation
with Mrs, Marion herself, the General's widow, in
the winter of 1806-7, when in obedience to my
father's commands I called at her house, on my
way to Charleston, to make his respects and inquire
after her health. I might tell how the announce-
ment of my name to the servant in waiting brought
her venerable person to the door ; how eagerly she
asked if I was the son of her valued friend ; how
she seized my hand in both of hers with a hearty
shake, and " God bless your father !** and how late
it was that night before I was dismissed to bed
from tales of my father's chivalry and noble heart.
And many a time in the course of my earlier life
was I honored on my father's account ; and never
Mave I met with officer or soldier of Marion's com-
nm>ud who was not my friend for my facer's sake
16 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
But with respect to his connection with the
second regiment, early in the war. If I mistake
not, there were two regiments (possibly more)
raised by the State of South Carolina at the be-
ginning of the war, for the general cause of the
Revolution, and not for service within the State
only ; and for this reason they were called QmUnen'
tal regiments. This one of them, as I have just
said, was commanded at first by Moultrie, with
Marion and Horry for Lieutenant- Colonel and
Major. And it was while these oflicers com-
manded, that my father, though not of age, held a
commission in it. In proof of this, besides having
heard it affirmed repeatedly by both my father and
uncle, I happen to have in my possession a note
from General Horry to my father in the year 1802,
which I deem conclusive. The occasion of the note
seems to have been some diflference of opinion on
a point of tactics between my father, then Brigade
Major, and his General of Brigade, Conway, which
had been referred to General Horry; who, after
giving his opinion, concludes the note with these
express words : ^^If my memory do not fail me, / thiiik
mch zoos the itsc^e, or custom, in the second regiment, to
which we both belonged in June of our Oontinenial war."
Here, then, is explicit testimony from the best pos-
sible authority, as to the fact that he belonged to
the second regiment; in what capacity is not
stated, but it must have been as an officer, for it
would have been ridiculous in the General to make
iuch an allusion with respect to a private, and we
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ll
claim for him no higher rank in that regiment than
that of Lieutenant. But the Qenerars note serves
me for another point. It appears that he and my
father both belonged to the second regiment, " m
June of our Continental war/' What June must that
have been ? The phraseology is peculiar, and can
make sense only on the supposition that there was
one June unmistakably distinguished from the
rest, for there were several Junes during "our Con-
tinental war.'* It could have been no other than
June, 1776, distinguished above all others of the
Revolution, especially to officers of the second
regiment, by the battle of Port Moultrie. There
was no June for the second regiment before that,
for it had not been organized and in service, and
that was its first great achievement. Nor could
there have been any June after it of which General
Horry might say that he and my father did then
belong to the second regiment ; for shortly after the
battle of Fort Moultrie, Marion becoming a parti-
san General, both Horry and my father left that
regiment and joined him — one as colonel and the
other as captain.
I have been thus particular because of that mor-
tifying silence of the books; and because I have
even seen a printed list purporting to give the
names of all the persons who were engaged in the
battle of Fort Moultrie, from which my father's
name was omitted. This surprises me more than
any thing else, for as to the period of his service as
one of Marion's captains, the peculiar modeof war-
2
18 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
fare adopted by the General made it extremely dif-
ficult to gather information of numerous important
actions, whilst his army was so often to be found
in detachments only, here and there, from the
Combahee to the Pee-Dee river. Indeed, I believe
that after the fall of Charleston there was a con-
siderable period of time in which it was seldom
embodied in any great force. And yet there was
always ^ galling impracticable foe, hard to be
found, and still harder to be got rid of, by British
or Tory, It was some one of Marion's captains,
trained and qualified by that great commander to
play the General on a smaller scale. Much of such
service fell to my father's share, and many a thrill-
ing incident of his scouting-parties have I heard
related by him, which I would like to give, but
that, at this distance of time, they are not distinct
enough in detail to my recollection to be narrated
with accuracy. They appear indistinctly, or, rather,
confusedly, so that I cannot be sure that I have all
the parts of any event in order, or that parts of one
do not belong to another. But I can state with
certainty the facts respecting his being once taken
prisoner by the Tories ; and of his escape from the
prison in Charleston not many weeks afterwards.
These are not the incidents I would choose to
select, if my memory served me as well for the
rest; nevertheless, you may think them worth pre*
serving; or, if not, blot them out.
My uncle and father were on furlough for a
abort time, and had reached my uncle's residence,
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 19
while the Tories were in force in the neighbor-
hood. My uncle's wife was at the point of death,
and he would not leave her for the night, notwith-
standing the imminent danger of remaining in the
house with the Tories so near him. My father
would not leave his brother alone in so much
danger. They barricaded the house as well as
they could, and awaited the issue. As they had
feared, the Tories were upon them before it was
lights- a full company surrounding the house.
Flight was impossible; they must be taken; and
they would make terms ; but how ? They affected
to be a company themselves^ muttering a mimicry
of many voices, moving rapidly about, and by
every artifice in their power seeming to be a house-
full, and not two persons only. The stratagem suc-
ceeded, and the craven foe formally demanded a
surrender. They were not quick to answer the
demand, but kept up their bustling with all their
might. The demand to surrender was repeated;
and in answer to it they inquired how many of the
assailants there were. A parley ensued, and thej
finally surrendered on condition that, on sacred
honor, the men should be treated as prisoners of
war, and the house should not be molested. This
being done with due formality, they marched out,
two men of them, to the extreme mortification of
the valiant Tory and his command. They were
taken to Charleston, delivered to the Commandant,
Colonel Balfour, and put in prison. Their apart-
ment was in the third story of the jail, with somo
20 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
eight or ten other prisoners. It happened that
among the gentlemen of the city and surrounding
country, who had taken the protection offered by
the British after the fall of Charleston, (and of
which they afterwards had so much cause to com-
plain,) there was a Mr. Fogartie, an acquaintance
of my father and uncle, and of others of the pri-
soners, who visited them almost daily, and procui'ed
them many comforts. And after some weeks of
their imprisonment had passed, this gentleman, who
was ever kindly interested for them, brought the
appalling tidings of its having been determined to
convey them away from the city to the West
Indies. He had overheard an order to the effect
that a vessel should be got ready for this purpose
forthwith, and should sail by the next fair wind.
Nothing could have been more abhorrent to them
than this information. Their very souls were sick
of the accounts they had heard of the prison-ships
in that quarter to which they were to be sent^ —
their crowded condition, want of food, excessive
^. heat, stench, and vermin, worse than death. What
possible attempt might enable if but half of them
to escape at the sacrifice of the rest ? And it was
presently concluded that Mr. Fogartie should pro-
cure a boat and hands to be in readiness at the
market wharf that evening, and, if possible, arms
and animunition for their use ; and that they would
seize the moment when the turnkey came at dusk
to see that all was well, to rush forth together, and
seizing the arms of the sentry at their door, pro-
AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 21
cipitate themselves on the next and the next along
the stairs, killing or being killed, till they had
made their way to the street, and thence by flight
to the boat. Could half of them hope to survive
so desperate an attempt ? Perhaps not, but death
on the spot, rather than a West India prison-ship,
was their unanimous voice.
This being their determination, the faithful
Fogartie left them, to arrange for his part in the
plot — the procurement of arms and a boat at the
water-side. There were not many hours for reflec-
tion before the fearful point of time when liberation
or the bayonet had been fixed on ; and it is not
surprising that with the chances so terribly against
them, one and another, as the evening came on,
showed symptoms of a love of life. The first for
the plot were the first to abandon it. For several
hours the majority stood firm ; but the minority
could not be reclaimed, but finally overcame the
majority, who concluded that the chances for escape
must be diminished by as much as their number
was reduced, and the plot had better be abandoned.
N"ot so with my father, whose resolution had been
taken too firmly to be reconsidered. His last hope
was in his brother ; who, though he would gladly
have been one with the rest in the plot, deemed it
mad for two only to attempt to escape by such
means, and strove earnestly to dissuade him from
his avowed purpose of going by himself alone if
no one would go with him. The remonstrances of
the rest he answered indifferently, or with a gibe,
22 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
but his brother's importunities cost him some
trouble ; till almost at the point of the time he
turned sharply on him, and said, "Brother, I never
thought myself a braver man than you. Now I
know it. Make me not a coward." But the time
was come. The steps of the turnkey were heard at
the door. It was dusk, and w^as growing dark on
the stairs. If the turnkey could be deceived, might
not the desperate man escape ? They had in the
room a great bowl out of which they drank their
punch ; and there was a little punch at the bottom
of the bowl. This my uncle took, and placing
himself next to the door, was ready, the moment
it should be opened, to offer it to the willing turur
key. It was done. The great bowl hid every
thing from him except the punch in the bottom of
it, and my father instantly was gone. I learned
from my uncle that it was not difficult to engage
the attention of the turnkey, who loved punch
dearly, long enough to afford my father ample time
for his escape. But that escape. Whether in the
dusk the sentry at the head of the stairs took him
for a visitor, or for the turnkey himself, my father
knew not; but they had no dream of his being a
prisoner making his escape, and so suffered him to
pass without molestation. Just passed them, and
having begun to descend the stairs, his foot slipped,
and he tumbled down the whole flight of steps to
the platform at their turning, where the next
sentrj^ was posted. A laugh and sneer from the
sentinel, who probably took him to be drunk, was
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 28
all that came of it. This furnished a hint which
he improved ; and after the same seemingly drunken
manner he descended to the lower floor, and made
his way out of the house. His friend was waiting
at the appointed place, but had failed of procuring
a boat, on account of extreme bad weather. Not a
moment could be lost ; but taking a pistol and a
hasty adieu, he was in a trice at the Fish-Market
landing. There, luckil}^ he found a negro fisher-
man bailing a boat ; and leaping into it and pre-
senting his pistol, he ordered him to his paddle and
off for Haddreirs Point. The affrighted fisherman
promptly obeyed^ only exclaiming that they must
be lost : the boat could not possibly live in such a
storm. He paddled stoutly — as they well know
how to do — and my father found it necessary to be-
take himself, for his part, to bailing the boat of the
water which dashed in over her bows. But there
was another danger impending which he dreaded
even more than the agitated waters. The British
galleys were lying in the stream, and it was impos-
sible to escape their watchfulness. They must see
him, would hail him, and what should he do?
The best expedient he could think of, and pro-
bably the only one which could have availed him,
was suggested by the lucky mistake of the sentry
on the staircase, taking him to be drunk ; and so
he summoned his utmost powers to act the part of
a drunken sailor. Long before the expected hail
of "What boat's that?" he began singing and
huzzaing lustily, now a stanza of some vulgar
21 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
song, then "God save great George our king;" ming-
ling it to suit, and interlarding it with all sorts of
drunken rhapsody. He was hailed, and returned
it by giving himself some common name, claiming
to belong to one of the galleys, and stoutly pro-
testing he was too drunk and the water too rough ;
huzzaing for the king, for the commandant, and
almost any British officer whose name he knew;
professing to be as brave and true as any of them,
but that he had got drunk among the "gals" on
shore, and would not come to. Of course, then,
he had to pass. He was not worth shooting at,
and the next day would bring ^him to condign
punishment. And now the jail, the storm, the
galleys, all were passed in safety ; and landing at
Haddreirs Point, and giving a guinea to the negro
whose boat and paddle had been so serviceable to
him, he was once more one of Marion's men.
But my honored* father was a Christian. It was
on the first introduction of the Methodist ministry
into South Carolina that, under the preaching of
Henry Willis, of blessed memory, in the year 1786,
he was awakened and converted, and became a
soldier of the Prince of Peace. His name, and that
of my maternal grandfather, John Singeltary, may
be seen in the original conveyances for the first
two Methodist churches built in Charleston, (Cum-
berland Street and Trinity,) of which they were
trustees. After his removal to Georgetown, in
1794, he became ^ strong pillar of the infant church
in that place, serving as trustee, steward, and
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 2^
leader. A later removal to Waccamaw Neck proved
unfavorable to his spirituality, and it was not till
1808, in Sumter District, that he recovered all that
he had lost of the life of faith. Thenceforward
till his final removal to the life above, December
12, 1812, he was a pattern of piety, an example of
pure and undefiled religion, such as for consist-
ency, simplicity, and power I have never known
excelled. His death was surpassingly triumphant.
I witnessed it, and was with him day and night for
several months whilst he was passing down into
the valley of Jordan. AH was peace, and power,
and exultant hope. There was no moment of dark-
ness in his final sickness, no thorn in the pillow of
his repose, no distrust of the Saviour, no lack of
confidence in God, but gloriously the reverse. His
light was that of the perfect day, his peace was as
a river, he believed with all his heart, and at the
time of his extremest pain he would say, with
Job, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in
Him."
My mother was Mary, daughter of John and
Sarah Singeltary, of Cain Hoy, in the same Parish
of St. Thomas, aforesaid: another place of the
olden time, when South Carolina was peopled
mainly in the low country, and Wando river, of
whose banks Cain Hoy was the most notable place,
shared with Ashley river. Cooper river, and Goose
creek, in a high reputation for society, hospitality,
and all that ; times gone by with the generations
whose very tombs are now in ruins. But by on©
2
26 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBR8.
conversant with those times, (the late Captain
Ilibben, of Haddrell's Point,) I have heard my
grandfather spoken of as " the patriarch of Cain
Hoy." And such I dare say he w^s, albeit a re-
cent visitor might entertain some doubt whether
the place had ever produced a man. But truly
there used to be men, who were men every inch of
them, not only on Wando river, but along creeks
and swamps not a few, where now a ruined canal,
and heaps of crumbling bricks, and clumps or rows
of ornamental trees, tell mournfully of death and a
blight upon the land.
I have always felt it a pain that I never knew
my mother. She died when I was barely over two
years old. Often and eagerly have I inquired
about her: her person, her spirit, her piety, her
general bearing ; any thing that might help to raise
an image of her in my mind. In this way I have
learned that she was rather below the medium
height of women, delicately formed, of fair com-
plexion and light hair, with soft laughing blue
eyes, gentle but sprightly, affectionate and confid-
ing, a favorite with her friends, and my father's
idol ; and that her sweet spirit was ennobled by a
true Christian faith and purity of heart. I am in
possession of a letter from my father to my aunt,
the late Mrs. Bennett, of Haddrell's Point, in which
are related incidents of her final hours thrilling to
contemplate. She died when young, and rich in
blessings precious to the heart ; but she was more
than ready to obey the summons, "to be absent
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 27
from the body and present with the Lord.*' Her
last moments, radiant with the light of heaven
before her, were mostly taken up with soothing ex-
hortations to her husband, and prayers and bless-
ings, for her children. These were four: Sarah,
my beloved sister, who was the eldest, Gabriel the
second, myself the third, and John Singeltary,
(whose birth occasioned her death,) the fourth.
She had had a second daughter, Mary Singeltary,
who died some time before her.
My second mother, whose name also was Mary,
was a daughter of Samuel Wragg, Esq., of George-
town ; the same who was the original proprietor of
that part of Charleston called Wraggsboro' ; and
after whose daughters, Judith, Elizabeth, Ann,
Charlotte, Mary, and Henrietta, the streets bearing
those names were called. He had also two sons,
John and Samuel. My aunts (for my aunts they
were) Judith and Elizabeth lived to old age,
maiden ladies of uncommon understanding, (parti-
cularly Judith,) and distinguished to a high degree
for ardent piety and active benevolence. They
were Christian ladies, and Methodists of the very
first model. Ann married a wealthy gentleman of
the name of Ferguson, and lived in Charleston,
with their estate on Cooper river. They were
Episcopalians ; and she was for many years First
Lady Commissioner of the Orphan House, which
noble institutian was much indebted to her, and
has. becomingly acknowledged it. Charlotte must
have died when young, as I have no recollection of
28 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPJIRS.
her. Henrietta, the youngest of the daughters,
married Erasmus Rothmahler, Esq., of an old and
honorable family, and a lawyer of high respects,
but (unfortunately) an eccentric man. Of all my
near friends in childhood and youth, after my
father and mother, I loved my Aunt Henrietta best :
and to this day I remember her with strong affec-
tion, and I might say admiration, a& a pattern of
all social excellence. And she too was a thorough
Methodist.
In what follows I will be understood always to
mean my father's second wife, my second mother,
by the appellative mother. I knew no other mother,
and I should offend the heart that throbs in my
bosom were I to call her stepmother. She was my
mother, and in heaven, in the presence of the
sainted one who bore me, I will call her mother.
Pity on those poor children who, by their father's
marriage, have stepmothers only. My early recol-
lections mingle sweet images of my mother's love
and sympathy with all that concerned me. I was
liable to attacks of croup on any exposure to damp
weather ; and so on rainv davs I became her house-
keeper, carrying a bunch of keys at my side, giving
from the pantry breakfast, dinner, and supper, with
free use of the barrel of sugar and molasses-candy
for my pains — the indulgence, by the way, being
itself remedial. By a thousand arts of kind en-
dearment she attached me to her so closely, that I
scarcely felt it a privation to be shut up with her in
the house, while my brothers were pursuing their
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 29
sports in the fields. Those days were invaluable to
me. Converse with my mother was communion
with my guardian angel, while my good sister's
blithesome spirit (for she was always by) contri-
buted no little to my happiness.
My father's second marriage was in 1793, and
shortly afterwards he disposed of his estate in St.
Thomas's Parish, purchased a plantation on the is-
land between Waccamaw and Black rivers, and re-
moved his residence to Georgetown. While his win-
ter residence had been on Bull Head, in St. Thomas's,
he passed his summers at a place which he called
Capernaum, on the seashore, nearly opposite Ca-
pers's Island, in Christ Church Parish. He now
desired to find such a seashore place on Waccamaw
Neck ; and as he did not like to live in town, and
his island plantation was a deep mud-swamp, un-
suitable for his residence, he was inclined to locate
himself permanently on the Waccamaw seashore.
A summer or two were passed at a rented place
called La Bruce's, while for the winter and spring
he resided in town ; and then he purchased a place
some twenty miles from Georgetown, which he called
Belle Vue, and at which we lived during the years
1796, '97, and '98. It was beautifully open to the
ocean, having the prospect pleasantly dotted with
clumps of trees in the marshes, (called hammocks,)
and points of uncleared woods on the main land.
My recollections go back to the year 1795, at La
Bruce's seashore, where I killed a glass snake, the
image of which is still fresh to my mind ; and how,
30 LIFE OB* WILLIAM CAPERS.
as I broke it to pieces with a small stick, the pieceS|
when broken square oft', wormed themselves about
as if alive. There, too, I myself had like to have
been killed by a vicious horse; and there we had
the sport of smoking off* the sand-flies. Do not
laugh. Prince Albert's boys never had a merrier
play. But Belle Vue was my childhood's darling
home. Here were those spacious old fields, over-
grown with dog-fennel, which my brother John and
myself used to course with such exquisite glee,
mounted on cornstalk horses, with bows and ar-
rows, when the dog-fennel served for woods, and a
cock-sparrow might be an old buck. Here stood
by the side of a purling branch, that grove of tall
trees where we found the grape-vine, by which we
used to swing so pleasantly. Here we had our
traps for catching birds, and caught them plenti-
fully; and the damp days found me with my mother
and sister and the little ones, all so happy. And
here I got that masterly book for little boys, " Sand-
ford and Merton;" which, in my mother's hand,
proved invaluable to me. .Ai^d, like Harry and
Tommy, my brothers and I would build little houses
wattled of clapboards and small poles, and exult
in our fancied manliness and capacity for independ-
ence. But we were sure to have a stronger arm
and better understanding than our own in all these
achievements of ours ; and without which it might
have been more than doubtful whether, after all,
we should have proved so competent to our under-
takings. Bless my father! Blessed be God that
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 81
he was my father ! What should Belle Vue, with
all its play-places, have been without his super-
intendence, who seemed to enter into the spirit of
our childish entertainments as if he had been a
child himself, while still he never seemed below the
stature of the noblest man ?
But I must tell an anecdote or two of these early
years which savor less of simple, amiable child-
hood. My father was exceeding fond of gardens,
and had a large one; and we, his sons, fond of
doing like him, must also have our gardens. A
bed was appropriated to each one of us, (Gabriel,
myself, and John,) which we subdivided into tiny
beds, with narrow walks between, for the cultiva-
tion of just any thing we pleased. Radishes were
our favorite vegetable. I had them in my garden
full grown, while John's were but lately up. We
were together in our gardens, which touched each
other, and John wanted one of my radishes. Un-
luckily, I was out of humor, and refused him.
Unused to this, for generally we were fond to serve
each other, he heeded not my refusal, but plucked a
radish. This was an invasion of my rights, which,
in the mood I happened to be in, I would not per-
mit ; and so, instead of laughing at it, as at another
time I might have done, I plucked a handful of his
little ones in retaliation — reckoning the equivalent
(if I reckoned at all) by bulk. This angered him,
and he avenged himself by pulling up a quantity
of mine, as if reckoning by number for his oom-
jilement. A few minutes, and the radishes were
-fp
82 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
destroyed, both mine and his, and we were greatly
enraged against each other. At that moment our
father, who had been observing us from another
part of the garden, interfered ; and, as I was the
older, addressed himself first to me. The fault, I
insisted, was altogether John's, who had no right
to pluck my radishes against my will. He (my
father) would let no man serve him so ; and had
fought the British for no worse offence. But my
logic could not answer. "I must whip you,** said
he; "and take your jacket off.'* "Whip m6, sir,
for JbAn'5 fault?" "Foryourown fault, not John's."
"I declare. Pa, 'tis all John's fault; and I'll pull
off my shirt too, if you say so." "Off with it," was
the brief rejoinder; and oft' it came, when a smart
stroke of a switch across my naked shoulders, (the
first I had ever felt,) brought me as by magic to my
senses. It was the only stroke of punishment ever
inflicted on me bv that honored hand.
My recollection of incidents of this period of my
childhood is vivid enough as to facts, but the order
of them as to time I cannot so well remember. I
date about a year later than the affair of the rad-
ishes the following story of the top. Both belong
to Belle Vue, and must have happened between the
years 1796 and 1799. My brothers and myself had
each obtained a top, which neither of us could
spin ; and a thought seized me to practice by my-
seiiqfi, spinning my top, which, as other boys could
do it, 1 niight learri, and by learning it sooner than
my br(fl!hers, 'might win some wager of them ; (foi
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 88
each of us had something for his own of almost
every kind of property on the place.) In a short
time I had spun the top, and, elated with my suc-
cess, ran eagerlj'' to find my brothers, that I might
make a bet. But they were abroad somewhere in
the fields, and a wager must be ventured with my
father, (if possibly he might be induced to make
one,) or my betting must be postponed to another
time. Too eager to allow of postponement, the
venture was made in an off-hand manner on the
spot. The stake was my heifer against his saddle-
horse that I could spin my top. "Done," said my
father, and I spun the top. Fantom was mine, and
I capered about the room, and would have run to
the stable to admire and caress him, but my father
sternly stopped me. " Honor even among rogues,"
said he, " and if you turn gambler, you must do it
as they say, honorably. You are not to leave off
without giving me a chance to win my horse back."
Another trial, and I lost the horse. Another, and
another, and yet others ; and bursting into tears
I ran out of the room, having lost every thing I
called my own except a favorite white pullet. For
three days I bewailed my folly with all the bitter-
ness of utter bankruptcy; while my brothers were
unsparing of their gibes, and my father seemed
coolly indifferent to it all. At last, finding me sit-
ting moodily alone, he approached with his usual
good-humor, and said he wanted to make a bargain
with me. "A bargain, sir!" said I, "what have I
to bargain with ? You have got all I had from rae
3
34 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBBS.
And if I had spoken all that I felt, I might have
added, that he knew it was wrong to bet, and ought
to have whipped me for offering him a wager, and
not to have done as he had done. But he insisted
that I was quite able to make the bargain he de-
sired; and when he had constrained me to ask
what it was, he told me that all he had won should
be restored to me, and should be mine again just
as it formerly was, if I would pledge myself never
again to bet the value of a pin ; and on the further
condition, that if ever I did bet, I should forfeit to
him whatever should be mine at the time of bet-
ting. Never was a proposition more eagerly em-
braced ; and the final result of this strange inci-
dent was, that I became so thoroughly averse from
betting as never afterwards to be induced to bet.
Long after all fear of the forfeit originally pledged
had passed from my mind, and until a better gua-
ranty was furnished me in the grace of God, I not
only hated betting so as never to lay a wager, but
hated it to such a degree that I would break off
from any company I chanced to be in, the moment
it was proposed to play at any game for money.
But it is time for me to take leave of Belle Vue,
When my father, purchased it, he did so with an
expectation of its proving healthy. It was incon-
veniently distant from his plantation, and we had
so few neighbors that to get a school he was obliged
to employ a teacher at his own expense. Neverthe-
less, for the sake of a pleasant and healthy resi-
dence, with the treasures of the sea at hand, these
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 86
inconveniences were not deemed considerable.
But the fall of the year 1798 proved extremely
sickly to us, and my precious little sister Judith
died. On this account, mainly, Belle Vue was
given up, and for the year 1799 we resided in
Georgetown. Not that this change could have
promised exemption from disease, but that in case
of sickness we should there have medical aid.
Belle Vue had proved sickly; Georgetown might
not be more so ; and the latter place brought my
father near to his business, my mother near her sis-
ters, and all of us near the physician. But we were
not to suffer less by this removal ; for the autumn of
1799 was more fatal to our family than the previous
one had been. All of us were sick; another
younger sister (Elizabeth) died ; I myself escaped
death as by miracle ; and the fatal blow was struck
which deprived my father of one of the best of
wives, and me of my incomparable mother. The
following winter my widowed father dismissed his
overseer, and the plantation became our home. Dur-
ing the year 1800 1 was daily put across the river in a
small boat with my brothers, and went to Mr.
Harnett's school in Georgetown. We dined with our
good aunts, the Misses Wragg, and returned home in
the evening as we had come in the morning, a servant
always having the boat in readiness for us at the
river-bank, in sight of town. My father seldom
went to town, nor, indeed, anywhere else ; and yet
my young heart knew not that he was unhappy.
The next spring (1801) I was sent, with my brother
36 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
Gabriel, to school on Pee-Dee, some thirty miles
from Georgetown, where a Mr. Collins was the
teacher; but, for some sufficient cause, he suddenly
left his charge, and after a month or two we re-
turned home.
This period, when the island rice-swamp was my
home, introduced me to the use of a gun. It was
before the Northern lakes had been much settled,
on which bred so many myriads of ducks and wild
geese ; and these migrated to our low country rivers
and rice-fields for the winters, in prodigious num-
bers. From my father's river-bank on the Wacca-
maw on one side, or the Black river on the other,
innumerable flocks of them might at any time be
seen ; and better-flavored birds than several varie-
ties of the ducks were, after they had grown fat on
the waste rice, I know not. My father taught me
the use of the gun with great care : how to handle
it, to load it, to shoot with a true aim, and to keep
it in good order ; so that before I was twelve years
old I believe I was as safe in the use of this dan-
gerous implement as I have since been, and nearly
or quite as good a marksman. I generally shot
ducks in the river ; observing from a distance at what
particular points they were nearest to the land, and
then creeping after them behind the river-bank,
(that is, the embankment raised along the margin
of the river for the purpose of keeping off the
water at the flood-tide.) A well- trained dog kept
close behind me, creeping when he saw me creep,
or stopping at a motion of my hand, and instantly
AtlTOBIOGRAPHY. 87
on the firing of the gun springing into the water
and fetching out the game. So abundant were
they, and easy to be shot, that I would not fire at
inferior kinds, but only at the large gray duck, the
mallard or English duck, the bullneck, or the deli-
cious little teal ; which last was the least common,
and was most esteemed, though not more than a
third as large as the black or gray duck, or half as
large as the mallard.
But farewell to the island and its game, after
only one incident of imminent peril to me. It was
some time in the summer of 1800 that, as we were
sitting in the piazza overlooking the fields, we were
startled at seeing the whole gang of negroes, men
and women, running as for life towards the house.
My father, my brother Gabriel and myself ran out
to know the cause, and thought we heard the fore-
most ones crying out, "A deer, a deer!" My father
took his gun in haste, thinking that a deer chased
by hunters on the Waccamaw side of the river
had swum across it, and was making for the un-
cleared swamp just in our rear, and that he would
run probably on the western side of the settlement,
where he might get a shot at him. On the eastern
side was the barnyard, and mill for pounding rice ;
and to prevent his going that way, and to increase
the chances for a shot on the other, he bade my
brother and me to run in that direction with the
dogs. Now, for the special security of the barnyard,
there was a much higher embankment thrown up
38 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
around it than around other parts of the settlement^
80 that we could not see over it what might be run-
ning in the fields beyond. With the dogs, then, we
made all speed to the barnyard, entered it, were
running across it, and at the very point of rising
on the farther bank, there met us on the top of it,
and just opposite the point we had reached, a great
bear. Petrified with horror, we could not, at first,
move a peg. The dogs had better command of their
legs, and, except Dash, (the dog that fetched the
ducks,) they ran away at the top of their speed.
0, that frightful bear! He growled, raised his
bristles, champed with his teeth, bent his body like
a bow, all before we could do any thing more than
stare at him. But Dash delivered us. Quick as
was the retreat of the rest, was his advance upon
the frightful foe ; and it seemed to be his bark that
relaxed our nerves and enabled us to run. We had
not so much as a stick in our hands. Dash seized
the bear just by the tail, and obliged him to give
him his attention. Bruin shook him off* and made
at us ; but again Dash had him by the hinder parts.
And thus it was between them several minutes, till
my father, learning his mistake, came running, and
the whole plantation with him, to the rescue.
Negroes are famous for their noisiness when ex-
cited ; but did ever the same number make such a
noise as those then did, as entering the barnyard
they saw the danger we were in? At any rate,
they scared that bear no less than they gave as
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 89
courage, and he made away as fast as he could, and
hid himself under the mill. He was made bacon
of afterwards, and I ate some of it.
In September, 1801, my brother Gabriel and my-
self were sent to Dr. Roberts's academy, near
Statesburg, in Sumter District, and were boarded
with a Mrs. Jefferson. And this I reckon an im-
portant epoch in my life. Hitherto, whether in
Georgetown, at Belle Vue, or at the island planta-
tion, I had been accustomed to all the endearments
of home, sweet home ; a home where all my wants
were anticipated, and not only every comfort was
at hand, but the ministries of tender love were ever
active for my happiness. The death of my mother
was a sore affliction ; but my sister (then just
grown) became to me sister and mother both, and
what was there lacking to me? Truly, nothing.
But how different was it with me now, boarding a
hundred miles away with Mrs. Jefferson. To what
purpose had my heart been cultivated, when there
was no one to sympathize with me, and whom I
might love? That I slept on a mattress on the
floor, with sheets of osnaburgs, and that my fare
consisted of middling bacon and corn-bread, was
a secondary matter. I felt a burden of want of
another kind, though this also seemed severe.
True, my brother Gabriel was with me, but where
were my father, my sister, my brother John, and
my younger brother and sisters, Samuel, Mary, and
Henrietta ? Could my one brother be all these to
me? Of necessity I sought to be loved by my
40 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
hostess, and plied every art in my power to induce
it, but to no purpose. Nor could I love her any
more than I could make her love me. She did,
indeed, once compliment me as the best of her
boarders ; but the very term boarders^ in the cold,
long-drawn utterance she gave it, told me that she
(lid not love me. And then when she picked the
thorn out of my foot with a coarse needle, she did
it so roughly, never pitying me nor seeming to
know that she was putting me to pain, though the
blood trickled from the wound. The case was
hopeless, and I was forced to retire within myself
to supply as I might the want, the broad waste
want of home. And yet she was a very good
woman.
But every day was improving my bodily health
and strength. And though I fed on little else than
corn-bread, (for I could not brook the middling
bacon,) I was far more active and growing faster
than ever before. Mv boardinff-house stood on the
main road between Statesburg and Camden, just
three miles from the former place, and touching
the road. The academy was a mile and a half
from it, on the summit of a hill ; and this distance
was my daily walk to and from school. The mid-
day recess was passed at the schoolhouse, to which
we carried our dinner of corn-bread and bacon in
a large tin bucket. And for dinner, my usual
practice was to throw away the bacon, and repair
to a neighboring spring of cold pure water, with a
pone of bread, and there substituting my hand or
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 41
a hickory^ leaf for a cup, make my meal, right
frugally at least. At first I could not possibly
make the walk to school without resting by the
way; and even to ascend the hill on which the
schoolhouse stood put me out of breath; but it
was not long before I could even run the whole
distance. The truth was, that up to this period I
had been but a puny child ; frequently sick, some-
times extremely ill ; and but for this great change
must probably have grown up, if at all, too delicate
of constitution for laborious life. I am so fully of
this persuasion, as to regard it providential that
my father's business would not allow of his accom-
panying us on our way up, and we were committed
to the care of a onesided friend of his to be entered
at the academy and suitably boarded. Mr. Camp-
bell could, but our father could not have subjected
us to the extreme privations of such a boarding-
house as ours, and the exposure of so long a
walk in all kinds of weather: privations and ex-
posures, nevertheless, for which I have long since
known no regret, but, on the contrary, have felt
thankful.
And here both nature and gratitude require me
to introduce the name of my father's only brother,
Captain George Sinclair Capers, my most kind and
truly honored uncle. Some years previously to
this time he had removed from St. James's, San tee,
to Sumter District, and located himself in what
was called Rembert's Settlement, some eight or
nine miles from our academy ; and our Saturdays
12 LlPE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
and Sundays were usually passed with him. Hia
practice was to send horses for us every Friday
evening, and send us back again on Monday morn-
ing. Nature, how true is nature ! and a child's
heart is nature's own. I could love nothing be-
longing to my boarding-house, and had no play-
places there; no, not one; unless a wide-spreading
oak should be called a play-place, to which I used
to withdraw myself and sit among the boughs for
hours together in moody reveries of home. But I
loved the very horse that carried me to my uncle's
door ; and there every thing interested me. I was
loved, and was so far happy.
About the close of the year 1801, my father ex-
changed his island plantation for one on Wacca-
maw river, adjoining the estate of John Tucker,
Esq. ; tired, I suppose, of living in a swamp,
where his very dwelling-house had to be protected
from the overflowing tides by embankments.
Home was thus again transferred to Waccamaw,
though it was not long to be continued so. The
Christmas holidays of 1802, 1803, and 1804, were all
I enjoyed of it; the first with boundless satisfac-
tion ; and the second and third only less so because
of the absence of my sister, now married in Sum-
ter District: if I might not also suppose that with
less of innocency there is usually less of the pure
zest of pleasure at fourteen than eleven.
I have gone over, thus hastily, that period of my
life which of all others interests me most. Can it
be peculiar to myself that at my time of life I
AtJTOBlOQRAPHY. 48
should delight greatly in recollections of my child-
hood ; reenacting, as it were, the scenes and pas-
times of the little boy — my own childhood's fond
amusements — for th6 entertainment of my gray
hairs ? A few years ago I found a habit of indulg-
ing such fancies growing on me to such a degree
that I thought it proper to restrain myself; and
yet to some extent it may not prove amiss, but
even wholesome. I love my childhood for its inno-
cence, its harmless gayety, its simple gladsome
pastimes, its gushing sympathies, its treasures of
affection, its unsuspecting confidence, its joyous-
ness, its happy world of home. I love it because
it was artless and without guile or guilt, free from
the curse and blight of carking care, uncorrupted,
trustful, self-satisfied. In a word, I love it for its
naturalness, and because I was happy in it. Bless-
ings on the memory of my honored parents that it
was so ! And I say now, let the children be
children. Let them have their plays in their own
way, and choose them for themselves. We only
spoil it by interfering. And I say more : away
with all sickly sentimentalism, and the cruelty of
unnatural constraint. What a deprivation it would
have been to me at Belle Vue to have been refused
my traps because it was cruel to catch the birds !
But I had my traps, and never dreamed of any
cruelty in the matter. My father made the first
one for me, and taught me how to make them, and
how to set them, and to choose proper places for
them. But he never made a cage for me, nor did
44 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS. •
I ever want him to make one. God had given me
the birds to eat, if I could catch them ; but not to
shut them up in cages where they could do me no
good. No artificial cases of conscience were made
for me. I loved the birds. I loved to see their
pretty feathers, and to hear them sing ; but I loved
to taste of their flesh still better. And I might do
so as inoflfensively as a cat, for any thing I was
taught. The use gave the measure of right in the
case. Such as I could not eat I would not catch.
And I hate this day the mawkish philosophy which
gives to the birds the sympathy due to the child-
ren. Let the children be free and active. Let
them have a mind and will. And let them have
a parent's gentle, faithful guidance : neither the ill-
judging weakness which is ever teasing them with
interjections that mean nothing; nor the false re-
finement which, while it must have the birds go
free to carol in the groves, makes caged birds of the
little children ; nor the tyranny of constraining
them out of all their simple gleeful nature to be-
have like old people.
My father married a third wife early in the year
1803, and began to spend his summers in the
neighborhood of Bradford's Springs, in Sumter
District. Some time before this, my boarding-
house at school had been changed from the place
before mentioned to that of my preceptor, hard by
the academy. This was a decided improvement;
for Mr. Roberts not only furnished better fare, but
was himself a man for one to love and honor.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 46
The summers of 1808, 1804, and 1805, were passed
pleasantly enough, while the Saturdays and Sun-
days were spent at our new summer home, with
delightful visits to my honored uncle and beloved
sister, then Mrs. Guerry. A summer residence
near Bradford's Springs was well enough ; but my
father was too active to be content at such a dis-
tance from his plantation, and without any positive
employment to occupy his time. This change for
the summer, therefore, led to a much more im-
portant one, which, as things turned out, proved
highly detrimental on the score of property. In
1805 he was induced to sell his plantation on
Waccamaw river, and purchase a cotton plantation
on the Wateree, near Statesburg. He sold also
his summer place the following year, and pur-
chased a seat for permanent residence on the Hills,
some five or six miles from the Wateree plantation,
and just three and a half miles from Statesburg, on
the road to Darlington. I do not remember the
price, and cannot judge of its sufficiency, for the
Waccamaw place ; but the price given for the place
purchased in its stead was certainly low enough.
He gave for it six thousand dollars. And this
must have been low; for when five years after-
wards he judged it prudent to sell it, and remove
to a less valuable place in the Black river portion
of the District, it brought him eleven thousand
dollars. And when the payment of the last instal-
ment of this sum was refused, on the pretext that
gome particular portion of the land deemed bettor
46 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
than the rest had fallen short of the quantity sup-
posed, Mr. McLauchlan, the next neighbor, and a
responsible man, said on his oath in court that he
believed it to be worth twenty thousand dollars.
This was after the close of the war, and the price
of cotton had risen very much ; but eleven thou-
sand dollars was the price stipulated during the
war, when the price of cotton was at its lowest.
And yet my father made a sad bargain in purchas-
ing it for that much smaller sum of six thousand
dollars, as this purchase involved the sale of his
rice lands, and the transfer of his planting interest
from rice to cotton, just at the point of time when
the value of a rice crop was to be doubled, and that
of a cotton crop reduced to almost nothing. Never-
theless, God's hand was in it for good. My mother's
dying prayers had not yet been answered; nor
might they have been on Waccamaw without a
miracle. Her daughter was now a mother, and her
sons were fast growing up without knowing her
God in the light of her faith, or being concerned
so to know Him.
I was continued with Dr. Roberts till Decem-
ber, 1805, when I was admitted into the South
Carolina College. This Dr. John M. Roberts was
a minister of the Baptist Church ; a most estim-
able man and a good scholar, but an imperfect
teacher. In Latin his text-books were Corderius,
Erasmus, Cornelius Nepos, Caesar, Sallust, Virgil,
Cicero's Orations, and Horace's Odes and Art of
Poetry. These I had read, and could translate
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 47
after a fashion, but had little knowledge of the
analysis of what was translated. In recitation, our
too easy instructor seemed to be more apprehen-
sive of detecting the deficiency of his pupils, than
we were of being exposed. His manner was that
of one who might not expect us to know what we
ought to have known; and asking us only ques-
tions as to points of obvious construction, he
reserved to himself the parsing of all difficult pas-
sages. Of Greek, I had read the Gospel by St.
John, and one or two of the Epistles, and perhaps
a third part of Xenophon's Cyropedia. And* with
only this exceeding lame preparation, I was to
enter the Sophomore class. It was little better than
preposterous ; and yet so did I rely on my teacher's
judgment, and so did Dr. Maxcy, the President of
the college, rely on it, or on his representations of
me, that w^ith no higher pretensions I actually was
admitted Sophomore. Dr. Maxcy did indeed tell
me that my examination had not been satisfactory,
and did not justify my admission, and that he would
prefer to have me enter college as Freshman.
But I was out for Sophomore ; and Sophomore it
was, sadly to my cost. For to say nothing of
geometry, and other studies, in which my class-
mates were ahead of me; and even overlooking
my deficiency in Latin, of which I knew little
more than barely to turn it into English, what pos-
sibly might I do with the Greek ? Homer was the
text-book, when I knew not much of the grammar
of the language ; and that little only as it was
48 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERS.
required for St. John and Xenophon ; and when
I had not the remotest idea of the change of form
wrought by the dialects in the language of Homer;
and the class having read the book once, and some
of them twice through, a hundred lines were given
us for a lesson; and when, above all, I was so
proud of heart as to be fully determined to hide
if possible my ignorance, and ask instruction of
no one. The very difficulties in my way were hid-
den from me, so that it sometimes cost me an hour's
diligent search to find the indicative present of a
single verb, changed, I knew not how, nor from
what, by some unknown dialect. Pride is always
folly, and in this instance it was madness. But I
reasoned thus: Though I cannot get the present
lesson, yet the getting of what I can will contri-
bute something towards the next, and that towards
the next, until I shall have got able to accomplish
all that is required of me. But the madness of
my folly was the obstinacy with which I exacted
of myself, in such circumstances, the labor of
plodding through my task, if at all, without assist-
ance. This I would not have, because I could not
get it without a betrayal of my ignorance. My
whole time, and much more than my whole time,
was therefore devoted to study; which I relaxed
not for any fatigue from the hour of three o'clock
in the morning to eleven at night — allowing my-
self but four hours in bed, and not a moment for
any recreation. At three in the morning I sat
down to Homer, Schrevelius, and the Greek gram-
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 49
mar, till prayers at six; after which came the
dreaded recitation. My other studies employed
me till five P. M., bating only meals and recita-
tions. At five o'clock prayers and supper inter-
rupted me ; and then till eleven, when I went to
bed, I resumed the heartless task of Homer and his
dialects. Twenty hours out of twenty-four spent
in this manner soon worked mischief to my nerves.
The little time I was in bed, I could not sleep for
nightmare; I grew pale and tremulous, had in-
cessant headache, and should probably have driven
myself to death, but for an incident which brought
my great and good friend, Dr. Maxcy, to my rescue.
I told him all, and his noble nature seemed to yearn
over me. I must desist from study ; return home
for the summer ; (it was then May, 1806 ;) and re-
turning in November, join the class which he at
first recommended for me. I felt both the wisdom
of his advice and the goodness which dictated it,
and acted accordingly. But extreme was the mor-
tification I experienced in having to abandon the
achievement I had undertaken of equalling my
superiors, and give up the struggle for a standing
in the class of which Harper, Evans, Miller, Reed,
and others like them, were members.
I purpose in these recollections to give you what
I remember of myself faithfully, though some
things, and especially at this period, may not now
have my approval. It was early summer in 1806.
1 was at home; at the place called Woodland, late-
ly purchased for a residence, on the Hills above
4
60 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERS.
Statesburg. And interdicted close study, I was to
recover strength and spirits by free exercise of any
kind. And a scheme struck me for improving this
time towards my advancement in future life. Sum-
ter District then, as now, was divided into two elec-
tion districts, Cleremont and Clarendon. Clere-
mont was mine : of which the population for the
most part belonged to Salem and Black river, and
were at that period averse from the people of the
Hills, as being too aristocratic. At Bradford's
Springs, I would have been on the stronger side,
but our present residence put me in the minority
portion of the district; and the scheme referred to
was for the purpose of overcoming this disadvan-
tage. For already T was looking with downright
ambition (perhaps I should say vanity) to enter
the Legislature as soon as I should be of age ; and
if I might accomplish this^ I would deem it an
equivalent for being retarded in my progress
through college. My plan was this : There was a
popular academy kept at that time on Black river
by a brother of my late preceptor ; and while I had
reason to believe that I was favorably known to
him, many of his larger pupils had become ac-
quainted with me during my visits to my uncle,
and attending church in that quarter. Now, then,
I proposed to visit this academy, and to make
friends of those youngsters, and of their friends
through them. I would propose instituting a de-
bating society, to meet once a month, or oftener,
with honorary meml)ers of the men of influence in
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 51
that quarter ; taking care to provide for an oration
on the 4th of July by one of the members. It was
successfully managed. An election to the presi-
dency of the society was declined, for the alleged
reason that the office ought to be held in connec-
tion with the school, and I was rather young to be
a president ; but more, in fact, because I preferred
figuring as a debater, and deemed it politic to ap-
pear deferential. But no modesty of youth, or
deference to older boys, was suflfered to prevent my
acceptance of the appointment as orator for the 4th
of July, which I would endeavor to sustain to the
best of my poor abilities, and hoping for all due
allowance for my youth. I know not how long the
society lasted ; but I know that I counted that 4th
of July for a day. The oration was long enough,
and sufficiently spiced with youthful patriotism,
the Black river boys, the pride of the country, and
all that. And besides having the whole country
around to hear me, there was a great dinner; and
at the dinner just such a sort of toast as it tickled
my vanity to hear.
Another story of very different import, and yet
somewhat connected in its origin with the preced-
ing, belongs to this summer of 1806. Towards the
latter end of the summer, a camp-meeting was held
in liembert's settlement, where the people were
mostly Methodists; and my uncle and family at-
tending it, made it convenient for me also to attend.
Of course this would be agreeable ; for although I
was not prepared to use it for the proper spiritual
52 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
purposes of such a meeting, and yet had too high
a spnse of propriety to go to such a place for the
purpose of electioneering, still, as my youth must
protect me from any imputation of bad motives, it
might be well enough to go just as a friend among
friends, and to make more friends. Of this camp-
meeting my recollections are about as distinct as
of most I have attended of later years. The num-
ber of people occupying tents was much greater
than it had been at two previous meetings of the
same kind, in 1802 and 1803, in that neighborhood ;
both of which I had attended with my uncle's fami-
ly, and at which wagons and awnings made of
coverlets and blankets were mostly relied on, in
place of tents. The tents too, (of this meeting in
1806,) though much smaller and less commodious
than in later years, were larger and better than at
the former meetings. But still, at the tents as well
as at the wagons of the camp, there was very little
cooking done, but every one fed on cold provisions,
or at least cold meats. Compared to those first
two camp-meetings, this one differed also in the
more important respects of management and the
phases of the work of God. At the first one,
(1802,) particularly, (which was held on McGirt's
branch, below the point where the Statesburg and
Darlington road crosses it,) I recollect little that
looked like management. There were two stands
for preaching, at a distance of about two hundred
jrards apart; and sometimes there was preaching at
one. sometimes at the other, and sometimes at both
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 58
mmnltaneouslj. This was evidently a bad arrange*
ment; fori remember seeing the people running
hastily from one place to the other, as some sudden
gush of feeling venting itself aloud, and perhaps
with strange bodily exercises, called their attention
off. As to the times of preaching, I think there
were not any stated hours, but it was left to cir-
cumstances; sometimes oftener, sometimes more
seldom. The whole camp was called up, by blow-
ing a horn, at the break of day ; before sunrise it
was blown again; and I doubt if after that there
were any regular hours for the services of the
meeting. But what was most remarkable both at
this camp-meeting and the following one, a year
afterwards, (1803,) as distinguishing them from the
present meeting of 1806, and much more from later
camp-meetings, was the strange and unaccountable
bodily exercises which prevailed there. In some
instances, persons who were not before known to
be at all religious, or under any particular concern
about it, would suddenly fall to the ground, and
become strangely convulsed with what was called
the jerks; the head and neck, and sometimes the
body also, moving backwards and forwards with
spasmodic violence, and so rapidly that the plaited
hair of a woman's head might be heard to crack.
This exercise was not peculiar to feeble persons,
nor to either sex, but, on the contrary, was most
frequent to the strong and athletic, whether man
or woman. I never knew it among children, nor
54 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
very old persons. In other cases, persons falling
down would appear senseless, and almost lifeless,
for hours together; lying motionless at full length
on the ground, and almost as pale as corpses. And
then there was the jumping exercise, which some-
times approximated dancing; in which several
persons might be seen standing perfectly erect, and
springing upward without seeming to bend a joint
of their bodies. Such exercises were scarcely, if at
all, present among the same people at the camp-
meeting of 1806. And yet this camp-meeting was
not less remarkable than the former ones, and very
much more so than any I have attended in later
years, for the suddenness with which sinners of
every description were awakened, and the over-
whelming force of their convictions ; bearing them
instantly down to their knees, if not to the ground,
crying for mercy. At this meeting I became clear-
ly convinced that there was an actual, veritable
power of God*s grace in persons then before me,
and who were known to me, by which they were
brought to repentance and a new life; and that
with respect to the latter, (a state of regeneration
and grace,) the evidence of their possessing it was
as full and satisfactory as it was that they had been
brought to feel the guilt and condemnation of their
sins. I did not fall at any time, as I saw others do ;
but with the conviction clear to my apprehension
as to what was the true character of the work be-
fore me, that it was of God, while I feared greatly,
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 55
I could not but desire that I might become a par-
taker of the benefit. Still I kept myself aloof, I
knew not why.
The meeting over, I stopped for a day or two at
my uncle's. The day that I left it, as I dwelt on
its scenes, with the sounds belonging to those scenes
still lingering on my ear, and my spirit confidently
approving, I felt a lively satisfaction in the contem-
plation of what appeared to me to be the greatest
possible discovery, which was, that a sinner could
be forgiven his sins ; could be reconciled to God ;
could have peace with God, witnessed by the Holy
Spirit, through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. Yet
I was conscious of no painful conviction of sin ; no
working of a godly sorrow ; no extraordinary sense
of guilt; no action of repentance. Indeed, my feel-
ings seemed absorbed in this sense of satisfaction
that beyond all doubt I had learned so great a les-
son. For though I had not experienced it in my
own soul, I was satisfied of the verity of it by the
consent of my consciousness as to what I had wit-
nessed in others ; something which I myself had
also felt serving to demonstrate the truth of the
whole, as piece and part of that whole. But as I
was going to bed that night, I found myself strong-
ly arrested with the thought of my responsibility for
the use I should make of the light afforded me.
Ought I not instantly to pray? I was a sinner, and
repentance and forgiveness of sins was offered
me. Must it not turn fearfully to my condemnation
If T did not forthwith seek it ? I fell on my knees
56 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
and continued all night in prayer to God. Returning
home, I occupied myself, for several weeks, with noth-
ing else but devotion. My whole time was giv^n to
reading the Scriptures, meditation, and prayer. And
yet while I never distrusted the certainty of the
great truths just stated, and although my purpose
to pursue after them knew no abatement, there was
no one point of time at which I was enabled to re-
alize their fulfilment in my own case, so as to be
assured that I myself had passed from death to life
by the blood of Josus. I still felt, at the best, that
I was but a servant, not a son. Thus it was with
me when, on one of my fast-days, having taken my
Bible with me into the woods with a purpose of
spending the day there in devotion, and having
continued a long time on my knees, I became so
much exhausted as to fall asleep. I cannot describe
— it can scarcely be imagined — in what terror I
awoke. Asleep at prayer! Fasting and praying
with the Bible open before me, and asleep ! I seemed
to myself a monster of profanity, who had mocked
God to his face, and must surely have committed
the unpardonable sin. What was I to do ? And
there appeared nothing, nothing ! And I was ready
to condemn myself as a trifler from the beginning,
whose want of reverence had thus betrayed itself in
what seemed to be the most presumptuous form of
sinning. Alas for me, a darkness as of death
shrouded my spirit ; and how I might penetrate it,
I knew not.
The Hills in the neighborhood of Statesburg fur-
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 57
iiish beautiful seats for residence ; and in my youth,
and more recently, (if not at the present time,) there
was no part of South Carolina more remarkable
than that neighborhood for elegance and fashion.
At the time of our date, (1806,) we had within a
compass of a few miles, Judge Waties, the May-
rants, General and Colonel Sumter, Mr. (afterwards
«Judge) Richardson, Dr. Brown field, and others, who
were permanent residents, besides still others of the
elite of the low country, who passed their summers
there. Balls were frequent; and the season for
them was just commencing at the time of the un-
happy incident just mentioned. And as if the
malice and subtlety of my mortal foe had been con-
centrated on that fatal hour, there met me, as I
returned to the house from that melancholy scene
of the wood, a well-known card, " To tea, and spend
THE EVENING.'* It was an invitation to a ball. The
bare coincidence of such an invitation at such a
moment seemed to tell me that I was doomed, and
there was nothing better left for me. But could I
so suddenly give up all hope of the better things
I had been seeking ? Was it impossible for me to
become a spiritual Christian ? And was tlie world
my only heritage ; and must I return to it in de-
spair of ever inheriting the better world above?
Wliat an hour was that ! First, there was the incu-
bus of an undefined condemnation for the monstros-
ity of falling asleep on my knees. Then, I was
not a Methodist ; and now, probably, never could
be. My religious feelings had been known to no
58 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
one out of my immediate faijiily ; and in the pro-
sent state of things had better not become known,
as I could not hope to be a Christian. True, I could
no longer find any enjoyment in the pleasures of
the gay world; but situated as I was, it would be
useless to give offence, and break with my formei
associates.
Surely no one ever went to meet associates in a
ballroom in so sad a mood. I was going to a ball
as to an antechamber of the pit below ; and yet I
^as going. I felt a loathing of it, as of a cup
which had intoxicated me in time past, but which
was now presented with its wine turned into gall,
and yet I was going to taste of that loathsome cup.
On the way I would have turned back and gone
home ; but no, the invitation had been accepted,
and must be complied with. If I did not go, what
should I answer when I might be asked for the
reason of it ? And might it not even serve as a
rebuke of dancing for me to go and then decline
dancing, of which I had been known to be exceed-
ing fond? But enough of this unpleasant story.
I went. And having gone, I danced. The hour
was late when I got home and to bed — to bed
without prayer! But the flurry of my spirits and
bodily fatigue, after such a day and so much of
such a night, made it easier for me to go to bed
without prayer than I was to find it in the morning
to go away from my bed without praj^er. Then I
was calm and recollected ; and may God save you
from ever suflfering any thing like the sinking of
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 59
heart, and that hopelessness with which, that morn -
ing, I left that bedside without daring so much as
to bow my knees. I felt as one wandering along
some dark labyrinthian way, who had been given
a light and had extinguished it. First, the scene
of the wood the day before, and then the ball at
night, and my light was out. No mitigating cir-
cumstances could avail to comfort me, and I gave
up all for lost.
But there was one thing which I could not be
tempted to give up. It was graven as with the
point of a diamond on the tablet of my heart, and
planted as with the finger of God deep and abiding
in the consciousness of my nature. I would never
give up the recollection of the past few weeks. •
And that recollection, mournful as it was, proved
invaluable to me. It fixed and riveted in my
mind a conviction of the truth of the gospel and
spiritual religion so firmly, that no plausibility of
infidel reasoning could ever afterwards shake it.
And when, (as you shall see,) after so long a time,
the phantasm of the unpardonable iniquity of the
incident just recited had been dispelled, and I was
again to be found calling upon God, no temptation
ever prevailed to beat me oft' from the sinner's
only hope, the cross of Christ and prayer.
In the winter I returned to college, fully equal
to my studies as they then were, and in no great
danger of excessive diligence. Still, I had a pride
of associating with those whom I had so vainly
striven to overtake, and to rank above my years in
60 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERH.
the society hall if I might not in the class-FOom,
Among the seniors of that year (1807) were Wil-
liam T. Brantly, the late lamented President of the
college at Charleston, John Murphy, late Governor
of the State of Alabama, and James Gregg, who
has been for many years an honor to the bar of
South Carolina, and one of her ablest senators.
Of the juniors I have already mentioned William
Harper, since Chancellor and a senator of the
United States, Josiah J. Evans, one of the judges
of South Carolina, Stephen D. Miller, late Governor
of that State, and others. To my own class, as it
now was, belonged William J. Grayson, since col-
lector of the port of Charleston, Col. Wade Hamp-
ton, and others, who, if not as eminently distin-
guished in after-life, were nevertheless worthy.
Mr. Brantly was already a preacher, and Mr.
Murphy and Mr. Gregg were patterns of pure
morals and gentlemanly bearing. To these gentle-
men I owed the kindest obligations, and it was
probably owing, in a great measure, to their influ-
ence over me, that my indiscretions this year, what-
ever they may have been, partook not of the na-
ture of gross immorality. But there was another
influence which kept me, without the intervention
of means of any kind, from a still more dangerous
exposure. This exposure was the prevalence oi
Deism, against which I carried in myself an evi-
dence too strong and conchisive to admit for a
moment its half-reasoning unbelief. I had proved
Christianity to be true in a way that Deism could
AUTOBTOORAPHY. 61
aot reach ; and as well might it have been under-
taken to reason away from me my consciousness of
being, as my conviction of its truth. This might
be called (as it often was called) superstition, in-
fatuation, or what not, but it made no difference to
me, my consciousness was still victor, and I gloried
in the truth of Christianity. "Gentlemen,'* 1
would say, (when pressed to read Tom Paine, or
Hume, or any other such author,) "gentlemen, I
am as you are ; I am not a Christian, but a sinner;
but sinner as I am, I dare not seek to evade respon-
sibility by denying what I know to be truth. I
know in myself that I am a sinner, and I know in
the siame manner that the Bible is the word of God,
and Jesus Christ is his Son. Call not him by vile
epithets whom I know to be the Son of God as
certainly as I know that the light shines or the
wind blows. Unbelief may make us worse, but
can make us no better.*' But I was a paradox to
myself. Naturally gay and vivacious, I engaged
freely in the pastimes of the hours for recreation ;
and in company with those of like dispositions
seemed as happy as the rest. But behind all this
there slumbered a feeling of remorse, which would
sometimes be aroused into a loathing of myself,
and extreme sadness — a secret wound, hidden from
the light of day, which the solitude of night re-
vealed as a running sore. Yes, I might be merry
in the day, when the night was to be dark witli
self-reproach. Alas, what is light without love?
This was the consciousness which made me argue
62 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPBRS.
for the Christian faith, while it had no power to
make me a Christian. It seemed impossible foi
me to maintain the watchfulness proper to a serious
self-restraint when all was gay about me; and
equally so for me to pass the night without calling
painfully to mind my sinful wanderings from God.
And yet I was restrained from grosser immorali-
ties. Why not more, may be told in a word : I did
not pray. Solitude at night shut me up to the con-
templation of a scene in which the incidents of the
previous summer seemed pencilled before me : how
I had had the truth of spiritual religion demon-
strated to me ; had been graciously drawn to seek
it ; and had (as still it appeared to me) profanely
cast it all away. But it was that last spectacle ot
the scene which held me back as by a spell from
prayer, though I would have given any thing to feel
myself at liberty to pray. And so fully had this
spectral idea got possession of my mind, that I was
shut out from prayer, that I seemed incapable of so
much as even to call it in question.
You will wonder, perhaps, at my dwelling so
long on this unwelcome theme, but I cannot dis-
miss it hastily, for I deem it to have been of no
little consequence. I mean not that it was benefi-
cial for me to have fallen asleep at prayer, nor to
have fallen under the tormenting misconceptions
of the character of that act, which prevented me
from attempting to pray afterwards, and in despair
of becoming a Christian induced my return to
former associations. And much less do I mean
AUTOBIOaRAPHT. 68
Qiat it was well for me to have gone to the ball
that night, and to continue in habits of pleasurable
amusement, and to live after the gay and giddy
manner that I did, against my conscience, awak«
ened as it had been to the discovery of spiritual
truth. Nothing of the sort. But I mean that
my wretchedness taught me understanding; and
although I had not the knowledge which should
have inspired courage to pray, I saw an infinite
value in the privilege of access to God through the
great Mediator ; and by as much as I was hopeless
of any good without it, and felt that the pleasures
of sin were but apples of Sodom, by so much was
I still held to the belief of spiritual truth as demon-
strated in my present consciousness no loss than in
my former better experience. The present com-
pared to the past involved a sense of destitution,
not only implying a consciousness of want, but
that the thing wanted had been possessed. A
smoking wick compared to the lighted candle
might be its emblem. And the thing wanted was
that influence of the all-quickening Spirit which
should renew the flame. To be a sinner under
condemnation for his sins, but calling upon God in
expectation of forgiveness through the blood of
the cross, seemed a hopeful and desirable condition
in comparison to mine, in which the great pain and
plague was that I feared to pray, deeming it pre-
sumptuous for me to do so, and therefore not at-
tempting it. Such a hag may a mistaken coil'
science be.
64 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
But why did I not correct my error by the Scrip-
tures ? Ah, why did I not ! Why, unhappily, be-
cause, having left oft' to pray, I had left off also the
reading of the Scriptures, as not being likely to
profit me without prayer; whereas, if I had
searched the Scriptures with proper care, it would
probably have been blessed both to the correction
of my error, and my recovery from this snare of
the devil. It was not long before I came to the
conclusion that I could not get better as things
were ; and that the only hope for me was in some
such extraordinary impulse of the Holy Spirit as
that which moved me so mightily on the evening
after the camp-meeting; which only could assure
me that I might pray with acceptance, and, with
the encouragement to pray, enable me to live as
a Christian ought ; and that until I should be
thus favored, if ever, it was needless for me to
afllict myself for what I could not help ; but that
I would keep myself from any thing grossly im-
moral, and maintain steadfastly my belief in the
truth of Christianity, if haply the needful visita-
tion might be afforded me : another hurtful error.
With regard to matters of the college, things went
with me in the usual way, and I went with them
after the same manner. There was nothing worthy
of remark. The vacation was spent at home ;
(Woodland, on the Hills, in Sumter District;) and
of this also I have little to say. Its incidents were
not remarkable. Usually my mornings were occu-
pied with some sort of reading, and my evenings
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 65
with the ladies ; of whom there were not a few in
our neighborhood, nor a few belles among them.
Once or twice a week I spent a day with my
brother Gabriel at the plantation; but I was not
fond of hunting deer or of fishing ; and a week at a
time might be spent on a visit to my excellent
brother and sister Guerry, and my much-loved
uncle, who still seemed a sort of second father to
me. But there was one circumstance which per-
haps [ should advert to, as it had some influence
subsequently on my conduct. My worthy brother-
in-law was very sick, and was so for a long time,
30 that his life was thought to be in danger; and
this sickness was made the means of his awaken-
ing and conversion. I was much with him to-
wards the latter part of the vacation ; and if I
could have had any misgivings before as to the
truth of a spiritual religion, they must have been
dissipated by what I saw in him. I said his sick-
ness was the means of his conversion, not meaning
that he was already converted in an evangelical
sense of that word, but that he was awakened, and
it led to his conversion. He conversed freely with
me, as I also did with him ; and in one of these
conversations, speaking of my feelings a year be-
fore, he expressed the opinion that if I had joined
the Church I would not have suflfered the loss
which I was then deploring. I had long been
of the same opinion, and expressed, in reply to what
he said, a settled purpose to do so whenever I
should feel again as I had then felt the quickening
66 LIFE OF WILI.IAM CAFSES.
power of the Holy Spirit. I mention this heE% --
tm I nhall have occasion to adrert to it hereafter.
Xotwith«tanding this year (1807) was barren of
incidents of any note, its secret history was strwigly
influential on my future course of life. It began^
as the last had closed^ with intense agitation : the
buoyancy of young life bearisg me away with my
associates to an extreme of levity by- day, and my
tronbled conscience lashing meas with ^whips of
fire by night. It had passed to its seventh month, ^
with only the change of a sort of compromise: with ,
conscience ; by which I should allow myself just .
any* thing that circumstances made coni^enient,< .
Hhort of gross immorality^ and a disbelief, of the
Hcriptures and. spiritual reli^on ; and I was, .more* <
over, to> be ev'er forward to- avow and< defetid the
truth of Qod's word; which lastitem.in the^truoe-
with conscience cost me. some little tre^uble.. But
during the vacation, I was not only withdrawn «
from thenstrife -of tongues, but. also from ..thein
cxcitemont of college . recreations.. My recreations y
now wore of a difterent sort. Indeed,. I took none,
and desired none, except the evronings. in female -
Hocietyi This was not exciting, but soothing y, not »
a whirligig* of giddy '-passions,* but .a refining,/
elevating entertainments ( Such, out of the bail»n
**oom, I had always found female? society to .be ;l ,
for, thank 'God^ I never associated withtan5' ivhom ^v
I did: not h(hior as ladies indeed* In^a wordy theQ,'V
my mind was becoming more; settled-i-less frrrol- •
0 \xw,< and • losi delponding ; and^ though^ ^I had* no^«.«
AUT'OBIOGRAPiHYi. 67Ju
courage, to 1 betake- myself to prayer or avow a re*-.*^
ligious life, the hoped-fbr visitation whi6b should.'
give jne confidence began to be looked to not only •
as deeirable. but very possible; and the resolution
was fully formed which should make such a visita- '
tion the occasion of an instant public avowal 4>n my ^
part, by joining the Church.
In this state of mind my return to college in
October was^not anticipated with pl^sure, but
rather as an undesirable necessity. There was an-*
other consideration also which began to gain some
importance with me. My profession was fixed fi^r
the law; and at that time the statute required three
years* study with a lawyer, in order to admission at
the bar. I was ambitious of attaining to thia poei^
tion at the earliest allowable age ; and the securing. .
of it would not admit of my continuing in college
to the time of graduation. Perhaps it was unfor- .
tunate for me that, with a sanguine temperament
which might incline me to overreach myself in any •
circumstances, I had grown up rapidly »in* the-
last five years, and was already at my fulLheight^«
five feet, eight and a half inches* Nor can I dei>y» ^
that I was ambitious, and. that « my vanity was tat »-
least equ^.to my understanding. I had frequ^nt
conversations, with my.father. as .to? the prppa^iety'/
of 'gi]i?ing up. my text-books..at. college, in»favo^of .
Blaekstene; in which I undervalued tha^tudicfitof ■■*
the,«eB4or. year, as being mainly a review ' of Mthc,
pr^eeding, ^and- was inclined .to. the » ©pinion tha^^f
after the middle of my next term,J[ had. ^beMievv
68 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
commence the study of law. My father was re-
luctant, and preferred that I should graduate, but
waived a decision for the present time.
I should deem it most unfortunate that I had
gotten this kink into my head about leaving col-
lege and commencing the study of law, were it
not for the state of my mind with respect to
religion. In view only of the present life aud dis-
tinction at the bar, it was a great error ; for so far
from its being true that any portion of a college
course might be dispensed with by one seeking a
pi'ofession, it is to be regretted that this so fre-
quent haste of the boys to become men before the
time, should find the allowance which it does in
the present too brief course of studies, which had
better be extended. But in view of the whole case
from the present point of time, with the lights of
experience to guide me, I believe that this also
was of God. My situation in college was, to say
the least, very trying, and I felt it to be so. That
compromise still appeared to be the best in my
power there; and I was any thing but what I
would choose to be in the midst of my associates,
not a few of whom mocked at religion as a super-
stition, though in other respects they were high-
minded, estimable young men. It was a hazardous
experiment to be intimate with them in all their
pastimes, on the principle of maintaining that
one might be as gay and believe the Bible as he
could be in the disbelief of it ; and my nature was
social^ to a fault.
Autobiography. 69
But the vacation over, I returned to college, and
resumed my studies with considerable spirit; which
was not diminished by the growing purpose I in-
dulged of making that my last term. In other
respects, I know not that any thing transpired
worthy of remark.
Early the next year, (1808,) my father having
yielded his consent, I took a final leave of the
college, and entered myself a student at law in the
office of that estimable man and eminent jurist,
Mr. John S, Richardson ; afterwards, for a long
course of years, a judge of the courts of law of
South Carolina. Mr. Richardson's office was in
Statesburg; and it was agreed that my studies
should be pursued for the most part at home ; only
arranging for so much time to be spent in the office
as might be deemed desirable from time to time.
Woodland was now home, emphatically, as I lived
there ; but I was no longer a child. A study was
built for me at a pleasant spot, and I set zealously
at work to make myself a lawyer. A horse was
appropriated to my use, though I seldom rode ex-
cept to the office, to church on Sundays, and occa-
sionally to spend an .evening with the ladies, which
I was always fond to do. And now that phantom,
the honor that cometh of man only, appeared in
glory, as a thing ta be worshipped, the chief idol
of all, whose service should be honored with a high
reward. What a mistake ! And how common it
is with other ardent young men, who no more sus-
pect it than I myself did. Those succeed in the
*'*70 LIFB 0^ WlLLOtAM CAPBRS.
-racfe for distinction who are in. love with tto. means
*' of 'success-^the mastery of their profession j; and
•'not those who, too eager of the- goal, ./have> not
• -patience to approach it step by. step. . I was not,
•♦after all, in love with the few, but enamored: only
of the charms of a fancied glorification to be
♦ 'obtained as a lawyer. The law itself was mere
• ' labor — 'dry, plodding study ; and that I did not love
it for its own sake, an anecdote ;of the early
' summer will suffice to show. General Sumter had
just returned home from Congress, when I was one
day surprised by an invitation to dine with him;
'* with the words written at the bottom of the note,
' "None but gentlemen are invited." Arriving at
'.hia mansion, I found the interpretation of these
enigmatic words, in the fact that the company con-
- sisted of some twenty bachelors, of whoni I was
*' the youngest. And as soon as the cloth was re-
moved, atid Mrs. Sumter had withdrawn, the object
of this unusual collection of young men to dine
' with the old veteran was made known in a long
tiddress^ in which he told us all about our difficult
•'ties with England; the certainty. of a war, and
• -of its being a long one ; the occasion it musrtjjfur-
r'nish for glorious deeds <and immortal hooor; the
"•great 'advantages for promotion to those who took
' 'bfficein that first enlistment which Congress had
-Ordered; and that he wasiauthoriaed -^by^the Pre-
*'sident to promise commissions to any of«u8.thoD
present; whose fortune8"mustv»be.in:ade'.by accept-
ing them. And what "Wad* become oifimyilovero^'
. AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ,71
•"f^th^^law whe» we rose from that table? - My idol
>'«was i^ratksferred; ta • another temple, a^d not as a
' lawyer, bu4 a chivalrous soldier, rising rapidly to
. eminence { and feme, was I to seek my destiny.
'.'But how were my young wings clipped^ and my
? fancied certainty of a noble elevation by deeds to
•^ deserve it brought to the ground! * My father
' would not hear to it; and when I expressed sur-
prise,* and alluded to his own services, in the Re-
' volutionary war as justifying, the step Is proposed,
he really seemed almost angry. " What !" said he,
^'^^did I ever fight for -myself? 'Was it not for the
' = liberties of my country ? But you would fight for
pay, aiid ta> make yourself a name.' Our liberties
are not in danger^ atid the government' is strong
enoiigh to take care of' itself And so I had
to* smooth down my feathers, and return to Black-
stone.
Early in July of this year (1808) there was another
camp-meeting in Rembert's settlement. But I did
tiot attend itj having an engagement of business
for my father in ' Georgetown at the time of its
' ^ being held. • My brother-in-law,' Major Guerry, and
my sister attended it, and with the happiest eonse-
' quenees. I have mentiotfed his illness the previous
. autumn, and that it had been blessed to the awaken-
ing of both 'of them to a deep concern for th^ir
" fealvation. They had now joined the Church, and
'at this camp^meeting were converted. On my re-
turn home it affected me to hear it; and I was
'*- nifeditating a visit to them, whett they eame -to see
72 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
US. I used to admire my brother-in-law for a bear-
ing of personal dignity which distinguished him
above other well-bred men of my acquaintance,
and which, together with his being a very large
man, rendered his presence peculiarly imposing.
He was unexceptionably kind and amiable, but his
look would inspire reverence more than love ; it
was rather austere than gentle. So I had been
accustomed to see him. But there now stood
before me that same noble form, with a countenance
as soft as love itself, and a bearing that might seem
the very expression of meekness. Several times
during the afternoon and early evening I saw a tear
in the eye which I had not thought capable of a
tear, and a suffusion on the cheek which might not
have been suspected of any thing so tender. As
to my sister, her dear bright eyes would laugh in
tears, and she seemed the happiest of mortals.
And for myself, I had in me the interpretation of
it all. Here was the religion of the Spirit of grace,
which I had contemplated before in faces as truth-
ful, but not so dear to me as those of the present
witnesses. How poor might the world be to pur-
chase it ! What should the world be to mortal
man in comparison to it ? This it was which more
than twenty months before I had been so earnestly
seeking, the consciousness of which had preserved
me since from Deism ; but which, whether or not I
might ever hope to obtain it, was, alas, how fear-
fully uncertain !
It grew night; supper was over; it was warm,
AtIl:OBIOGRAPnY. TS
and we were sitting in a piazza open to the south-
west breeze which fans our summer evenings. My
sister was singing with a soft, clear voice some of
the songs of the camp-meeting ; and as she paused,
my father touched my shoulder with his hand and
slowly walked away. I followed him till he had
reached the farthest end of the piazza on another
side of the house, when turning to me he expressed
himself in a few brief words, to the eftect that he
felt himself to have been for a long time in a back-
slidden state, and that he must forthwith acknow-
ledge the grace of God in bis children, or perish.
His words were few, but they were enough, and
strong enough. I sank to my knees and burst into
tears at the utterance of them, while for a moment
he stood trembling by me, and then bade me get
the books. The Bible was put on the table ; the
family came together; he read the 103d Psalm,
and then he kneeled down and prayed as if he felt
indeed that life or death, heaven or hell, depended
on the issue. That was the hour of grace and
mercy — grace restored to my father as in times of
my infancy, and mercy to me in breaking the snare
of the fowler that my soul might escape. That
most truly solemn and overwhelming service of the
family over, I took occasion to remind my brother-
in-law of our conversation the year before, when I
had expressed a purpose of joining the Church
without delay if ever I should be favored to feel
again as I had formerly felt. This great visitation
I was now conscious had been granted me, and I
'74 LIFE .OF WILLIAM C A FEES.
I. iwistied under the inflmeiice of it to bind myself to
'1. the. fulfilment of that purpose, which I. promised to
' do the next time the circuit-preacher came to Rem-
bert's meeting-house.
I did not consider my feelings on this occasion
: >to imply conversion, any more than those of the
. night after the camp^meeting in 1806. My fiaith
V ^embraced not so much. But I knew them to-be
iiifrom God^ as I bad. known it om that former ooca-
• sion^ and this alone was half a world to me. I
'\ wient to- bed, and bowed my knees to the God and
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, with a heart suf-
fused with adoring gratitude. The next morning,
' as I awoke Calm and refreshed from sleep, it was
suggested to my mind that I may have beeii hasty
« in the promise I had made. What if I should not
find those strong emotions under which I made it
renewed again? What if possibly all that had
transpired should prove to be a mere matter of
' sympathy^ and not of God at all ? I trembled at
the bare suggestion^ but a moment on my knees
taught me whence it came, and reassured my eon-
fidence. ' God had visited me indeed. The flinty
• rock had been smitten, and gave forth water ; and
' I, even I, had access to a throne of mercy for- the
Redeemer's sake. Blackstone was Idid aside, and
' the Bible became again my one book. ^ And now
I longed with intense desire for the time to arrive
•when, by joining the Church, I should formally
I brtefc with the world, and -identify- myself- with
» 'those '»who, (at least then-, and in= that part ' of the
. AUTOBIO^EA^HY. '^'76
vMeountry,)fQr being.the most spiiritual and k&st world-
1 ly, were regarded the most, enthusiltstic and least
rational of all the sects of Christians. * My great.want
* was to know- God as they knew him, in. the for-
: igiveness of sins, and to serve him as they served him,
< not. as servants only, but as sons, having.the>8pirit
.»! of adoption, crying^ Abba, Father. (Rom. viii, 15.)
;i It.wasione.oft the Sabbath days between. thB^first
'. . . and middle of the month > of . August that : this
. event. of my joining the Methodist Church took
: place. And < to ishow the. unqualified simplicity? and
I .hearty confidence with which it was done, I will
give an anecdote, which, of itself, should not seem
worth relating : . The meeting oveir, I accompanied
my brother-in-law and sister to the house of i an old
•Methodist gentleman, (a very prototype of true
Christian simplicity,) with whom they were to dine
outheir way home. I was dressed with more than
usual care: my clothes ini the point of the. fashion,
with a deep frill of linen cambric and a full-sized
breastpin, at my bosom; (bad tswte certainly, for
one's dress should be agreeable to one's company.)
And as we sat at table, my old? friend said to me :
"•Well, yo lit. have joined the i Methodists, and now
' you must lay aside your breastpin and ruffles."
*.' Why ; should I,, sir?" I asked ; ,<andt ^he only
, ain&wered, '^If you? don't pull them bfi^, youxmust
; 'button your waistcoat over tkem and hide^them;
% you mustn't let the preacher see them." ■ And there
♦ : ended the colloquy. But it was food for thought.
*' HHide them !"i He. said. that eva8ivelv;«hejdid aot
76 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
mean for me to hide them, but that I should take
them off. But for what possible reason should I
take them off? And I could think of none. I
had heard of none, and was profoundly puzzled.
Still there must be some reason for it ; and what
could it be ? Why, the reason he had told me. I
had joined the Methodists, and that was the reason.
The Methodists did not wear superfluous orna-
ments, did they ? And I could not call to mind
one of them who did. Well then, thought I, the
question is settled. When did I ever change the
fashion of my dress for any better reason than that
the fashion had changed, and I must be in the
fashion ? Henceforth the Methodist fashion shall
be mine ; and done as I am with the world, I will
follow the lead of this godly people in every thing.
Arrived at my brother-in-law's, my first act was to
rip off the frill from my bosom, which my sister
kept, as a memorial of those simple-hearted times,
for many years.
That day I consider the most eventful of my life —
the pivot of the rest. In the evening, that most
godly man and best of ministers, the Rev. William
Qassaway, favored us with his company, and passed
the night, (having an appointment for the next day
at Clark's meeting-house, a few miles below my
brother-in-law's residence, which we purposed at-
tending;) and fresh to my heart is the remembrance
of that evening. After considerable conversation
and prayer, with myself alone in his chamber, he
proposed to me to meet him at Camden, some three
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 77
weeks to come, and accompany him around on his
circuit. Brother Kennedy, his junior colleague,
would he with him for part of the round, and he
thought I would find it both pleasant and profita-
ble. I thought so too, and gladly accepted his pro-
posal if my father should have no objection to it.
The meeting the next day was one to be remem-
bered ; and what with that, the godly counsel of my
reverend friend, and the cheering influence of the
joyful faith of my brother and sister, I felt con-
firmed in every pious resolution.
At the time, which I had been eagerly anticipat-
ing, I was in Camden ; and soon found that there
was much more in my being there than I had
dreamed of. What was it, to my apprehension,
more than a mere journey, which I was to make
with my reverend friend, for the benefit of his
guidance in seeking the grace of God, and that I
might attend the meetings daily ? And not know-
ing any one in Camden, nor where Mr. Gassaway
might lodge ; nor even thinking that if I did know,
it might be proper for me to obtrude myself on
strangers, I had stopped at the door of a house of
entertainment, and was just alighting from my
horse, when our venerated patriarch of Rembert's
church, and Rembert*s settlement, passing by, ar-
rested me with, "You mustn't stop here. Haven't
you come to ride with brother Gassaway ? Go with
me to brother Smith's." (It was that brother
Smith whose praise was in all the churches, and
whose memory is still precious, as one of the purest
78**t LIFE OP- WILLLiisM fXIAPBRS.
anidkbest of Methodist preach^exs ;« who many yi^airs^^
before hadvinarried a relation of &ther Rembert's, %
aiid was. now located in Camden.) And right wrllr >
ingly I went; not understanding, however, why-
riding with brother Gassaway should confer on mei '
such consequence, nor dreaming of any technical
meaning which '^riding'' with him might have. But' -
how great was my amazement at the Jiour of family
prayer that. night, when the books were handed me.
by brother Smith, and I was asked to have prayers *
for them. Could it be right ? And could I possibly .
perform it ? But it struck me that I was not a judge.
If dt seemed wrong for me to offer prayers for those .
who were so much wiser^and better than myself ,
that could not make it right for me to seem to know .
better than they by refusing to do it. So I took the
books ; though the extreme agitation I was under
scarcely admitted of' reading, and much less pray-,
ing* The sanctuary, next day, was refreshing to
me, ^s/morning, afternoon and evening I heard the -
go^pel which I beUeveds Monday was spent by my «
excellent friends Gassaway and Kenoaedy in visiting y
their flock. They took me with them, and ealled .
on me several times to pr^iy ;. whi<^ I did with no-
little perturbation, doubting its propriety. But the <
nextrday (September 12) taxed my simple subBfti*- ^
siveness still more 'Severely* We left£!amdea forv-
thei^ooiint^y appointmentsi, whiclii began ithis^ day %ato.
a me^ting-htxude in tberjHne-woods toward Lynche's: <
crads^ then taUed^^Smitii's^ (afterwards^ MadrahalK s^)?-. *
aiM»gi.|a ^'erj^.vpoo])^vpeopl$^HS^ BiaDtheJc^eiMuedji^i.:^
AVTOBIOGKAPHY. . 79fp
preached ; wlyle I was deated agianst the walL of •
th&^hoase remote from the polpit, (not knowiugyet
the meaning of the phrase . '^ riding with, brother
Grassaway/' nor dreaming that it had the least oon*>
nection with any thing official on my pigrt $) aad>the .
sermon over, he beckoned me to the pqlpi(; It was >
a sort of coarse box open at one end, and elevated
a single step above the rest of the. floor. • Brother- •
Gassaway was sitting in it/ and reaching- ^out his
hand as I advanced, <s£dd- to me^ ^' Exhorts *•' He said \
no more, but, as I seemed to helaitate, repeated the^
same word ^^^xhartj" with- a sligh); movement of his
hand, as if to induce me to come into^ the .pulpit, .
the^bench of which was suffieieii^tly taken up ]ivith :
hifnself and his colleague It was probably ^6 first
tinie I had heard' the word ; > and . -certainly the first >
of my hearing it as a technieal.word..- "Exhort?**
thought I. That is from *^exoro** or "exhortor;**
but what am I to make of it? What would he have >•
me do? "Exhort,** repeated my reverend- friend,,
unconscious of using a hard word which might not
be understood. And at the second. or. third- repetti-i
tidn of the word, with only the interpretation of a -.
slight pull of my hand, which Jie-was holding, I
hit on his meaning) And. dteppipg into the. bois be^^
gan to exhort, if I ijnayicaU it so* The word served ..
me for a text— "earnestly to beseech,** " to pr^v4lilv ^
by ,en treaty;*/ and so^ I made^aneffort to -beseeeb ^^
the people to ^ believe aadido as they, had bea«r,,.
taught by the preacher. But that aftcornoon and<>'^
eviemagi wa€MiBorf4j^/tro)i}^ .Mf.
80 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPBR8.
reverence for holy things was oflfended at my nn-
worihiness to such a degree that it seemed impos-
sible for me to be reconciled to myself. True, I
was not capable of judging for myself in such mat-
ters, and had acted by the direction of my spiritual
guides, whose competency I could not question ;
but then they did not know me as I knew myself,
and might be misled by excess of charity. "O,
brother Gassaway," said I, "I am in a wilderness.
Every thing is dark about me, and I know not what
to do. Surely I ought not to keep on with you,
and to go back from you I am afraid.*' " Well, my
son,** said the dear old gentleman, " God has brought
you thus far ; lean not to your own understanding,
but be humble still, and he will guide you through.*'
To brother Kennedy, whose comparative youth
made him more familiar, (or at least made me more
familiar with him,) I expressed myself more at
length. I was not a preacher ; never to be a preach-
er ; never could be made a preacher; and how could
it be right for me to stand up in a pulpit, or any-
where else, to exhort? That I was not a preacher
was certain ; but he held that my exhorting did
not imply that I was one, nor even that I was to
become one. Every Christian man, and every one
seeking with an awakened conscience to become a
Christian, was at liberty to recommend religion to
others, and ought in duty to do so ; and my ex-
hortation was no more than the doing of this in a
formal manner.
The next day, at the house of an old gentleman
■^ ••<«.■. fi., .^
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 81
by the nam^ of Parrish, on Lynchers creek, I WBfl
again told to exhort ; and again the day following
at a meeting-house called Lizzenby's ; and on both
these occasions I attempted to comply with the re-
quisition. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday we
attended a Quarterly Meeting, which was conducted
as a camp-meeting, at Knight's meeting-house, on
Fork creek. " Work for life, as well as from life,'*
was now the word ; and while I had no need of
teaching as to the worthlessness of works of any
kind for the procurement of grace meritoriously, I
was taught to look for the witness of adoption in
denying my will, and taking up my xjross as a means
which God might bless. And it was not in the
stand (pulpit) only, nor at stated hours, but wherever
and as often as occasion served I was exhorting. At
this meeting I found that unspeakable blessing
which I had been so earnestly seeking, " the Spirit
of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father;'* the
Spirit itself bearing witness with my spirit that I
was a child of God. A love-feast was held on Sun-
day morning at 9 o'clock. I had never attended
one, and happened never to have made any inqui-
ries about them ; so that going into this one I knew
not how it was to be conducted, nor of what the
service should consist. I first found myself strongly
affected on seeing one and another refused ad-
mission by the preacher at the door ; a vivid repre-
sentation being made to my mind of the character
of the meeting, in which, as I supposed, none but
approved persons could be present, and others wero
6
82 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
rejected. At first I felt as if I too had" no right tc
be there. It was a meeting for Christians only,
and without the witness of adoption I could not
claim that title. Was it partiality, or lack of infor-
mation, which had let me in while others were ex-
cluded? I might not hope to be admitted into
heaven thus, for God himself would be the Judge.
And what should it avail me to be in the Church,
and gathered in communion with its members in
holy services, if at last the door of heaven should
be shut against me ? But I was not suffered to pur-
sue this train of thought ; but my mind was sud-
denly and intensely taken up with an opposite one.
Was there any thing lacking to me which Christ
could not give ? Had he not bought me with the
price of his own blood, which had pledged his will-
ingness with his power to save ? And why was I
so long without the witness of adoption, except only
for my unbelief? Faith that should trust him to
bestow his grace, would honor him more than the
unbelief that doubted of his doing so much. All
this and much more was presented to my mind in
an instant, and I felt an indescribable yearning after
faith. Yes, I felt much more : there came with it
such a prevailing apprehension (or should I not call
it manifestation ?) of Christ as a present Saviour, my
'present Saviour^ that to believe seemed to imply no
effort. I could not but believe. I saw it, as it were,
and I felt it, and knew it, that Christ was mine,
that I had received of the Spirit through hina, and
was become a child of God.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 83
This gracious change was attended with new
views as to my calling in life. I could no longer
say, nor think, that I was never to he a preacher ;
but, on the contrary, it appeared to me, and the
conviction grew stronger and stronger, that I was
called to preach. The round on the circuit was
made without any more such feelings as those I
had complained of at the beginning of it ; while
I was daily concluding meetings for brother Gassa-
way, and generally with exhortation. At the close
of the round I returned home for a week, while he
was visiting his family. My father was satisfied
that I should follow the course which I now thought
my duty ; the study of law was abandoned, and my
law-books returned ; and it was fully arranged for
me to continue with brother Gassaway as long as
he thought proper, or should remain on that circuit.
I was now '* riding*' with him in earnest; exhorting
almost as often as he preached, and employing the
time at my command betwe3n services in studying
the Scriptures. But I might not get on thus smoothly
without molestation. I think it was during my
second round that I began to be worried with the
lameness of my exhortations ; which appeared to
me insufferably^ weak; and took up an idea that to
make a preacher at all, I must pursue a different
course from the one I was engaged in. What ap-
peared to me desirable, and even necessary for my
success, was a regular course of divinity studies,
which I should pursue without interruption for
several years, till I had acquired a sufficient fund
84 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
of tsfaomiedge Ibr pveaohrng. The bmef methodise
6owPBe*of brother Gassaway waa, to study and ^each,
and preach and study, from day to day. It was
several weeks before I could be brought to acquiesoe
ia bis opinion ; and for most of that time, so clearly
peasouable and proper did it appear to me to desist
froTnall public exercises till I should have qualified
myself to pei'fbrm them in a manner worthy of the
sacred office, ^nd it was a point so closely concern-
mg conscience, that I must have caused m}^ excel-
lent friend some uneasiness. However, his patient
spirit WAS sufficient to the trial, and most kindly
and affiBctionately did he still argue on. One point
which he made, and a capital one, I thought he
carried against one. I had supposed two yaare to
be necessary for the study of divinity before 1
should exercise at ^11 in public ; and that the quali-
fication gained for more effective service in future
by these two years of close study, would more than
compensate for the loss of time from such imperfect
efforts as I mi^t essay in the mean time on his
plan of studying and preaching, and preaching and
studying. And the point he made wa.s, as to the
qualification to be gained for future usefuln^ess at
the lapse of two or more years, by the one course
or by the other; holding it probable that a student
on his plan would become a better preacher at the
end of a term of y^ars than he would on mine.
He admitted that ^on my plan he might learn more
theology, And be able to compose a better thesis,
Wt Insisted he would not make a better preacher.
AUTOBIOGRA P H^Y. 85
Ibj tltis: argument he insisted much' on the practieal
character of preaching: that to reach ita endv. it
must be more than a well-composed sermon, or an
elbquent discourse, or able dissertation. It. must
have to do witli men as a shot at a mark; in which
not only the ammunition should be good, but the
aimt true. The preacher must be familiar with man
to* re&ch him with eftect. And the force of preach-
ing must largely depend, under the blessing of God^
on the naturalness and truthfulness of the preach«-
er's postulates; arguing to the sinner from what he
knows^ of him, the necessities of his condition^
appealing to his conscience^ and recommending the
grace of God. But he quite overcame me with this
Hdial remark. Dt was as we were riding along that
dreary sand-hill road in Chesterfield District leading
&om the Gourt-house toward Sumtervillcj and' I
seemed more than usually earnest in my objections^
lliat, after quite a speech on my side of the question,
he thus answered me : " Well, Billy, it is only sup-
position^ £^ter all. And. if you are called to preaoh,
and sinners are daily fiiUing into hell^ take care lest
the blood of some of them be found on your skirts."
Sure enough^.it was only "supposition*** The true
question w^as as to usefulness) not eminence ; and
-with nespeet to thai matter, at least, I could only
suppose^, s^nd could not certainly know, that it mi^t
he better for me to desist fronimy present aourse and
adoptr. another. Here then ended that difficulty
abai}ii Hie e:solusive study of divinity. I inataatlj^
86 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
gave it up, and thanked my friend for his pains and
patience with me.
The San tee Circuit at that time extended from
a meeting-house called Ganey's, some four miles
aboT3 Chesterfield, which was its highest appoint-
ment, to Tawcaw, near Santee river, which was its
lowest. And it was on this my second round
with brother Gassaway, (October, 1808,) that we
attended a camp-meeting at Tawcaw; where it
pleased God to give me the encouragement of
making my very imperfect exhortations instrumen-
tal of good among the people. Tn particular, that
estimable and engaging young man, Joseph Gallu-
chat, afterward for many years so well known and
much beloved in Charleston for his abilities and
spotless character as a preacher, acknowledged so
humble an instrumentality as this, the means of his
awakening and conversion. And this circum-
stance tended no little to confirm me in the pur-
pose I had formed, (I trusted, under the influence
of the Holy Spirit,) to devote myself to the work
of preaching the gospel of Christ.
During my third and last round of riding with
brother Gassaway, and as late in the season as
past the middle of November, a camp-meeting was
held at Rembert's; (the second one at the same
place that year.) And this being also the occasion
of the last Quarterly Meeting for the circuit, at
the advice of brother Gassaway, (Bishop Asburj
also approving,) I was licensed to preach, and waa
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 87
recommended to the Annual Conference to be ad-
mitted on trial in the itinerancy. This was done,
first the license and then the recommendation, on
the 25th of November, 1808. A camp-meeting was
held at so late a period in the season because the
people were in the spirit of it ; and for the special
reason that the Bishops, Asbury and McKendree,
had appointed to meet on official business, which
would occupy them several days, at that time, at
the house of their old friend, (the Gains of those
days,) James Rembert, immediately in the neigh-
borhood, and they would attend the meeting. The
weather was very cold, colder than November
usually is ; but the camp-meeting was one of the
best I have ever known. Different from those of
former years as to the preparations made for per-
sonal comfort, a large area of several acres was
enclosed with lines of well-built tents furnished
with fire-places; so that the cold, though incon-
venient, did us no harm. At this meeting it was
arranged that I should continue on the circuit till
after the Annual Conference, which the preachers
were shortly to attend. Brother Gassaway had
already concluded bis work, and I was to keep up
a round of appointments in his place. But I can-
not quite so briefly dismiss the meeting at which
my brothers Gabriel and John were brought to the
knowledge of God, and I first saw Bishop Asbury,
and witnessed his first meeting with my father
since the former days when he used to find a home
with him at Bull-Head.
88 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
But let me here drop the thread of my narrativei,
for a few sentences, to connect this meeting with
Bishop Asbury with those former days when my
father's house was one of his favorite homes. It
may serve a purpose later in my story, when I
shall have occasion to mention his regard for me ;
which I would by no means have you appropriate
to my own separate merits. I have already men-
tioned the fact that my father was one of the first
race of Methodists in South Carolina, and a de-
cided and influential one; and intimated, farther
on, that he had declined from his spirituality some
time after his removal to Georgetown District ; and
that it was not till the present year (1808) that he
recovered it. You will remember that on Dr.
Coke* s visit to America in* 1791, he was accom-
panied from the West Indies to Charleston by Mr.
William Hammett, who remained there on account
of his health ; and that this Mr. Hammett, choos-
ing to remain for life in Charleston, found some
occasion to object to Mr. Asbury and the American
preachers, as if they had done him a wrong on ac-
count of his devotion to Mr. Weslev ; Mr. Asburv
being (as he represented) ambitious of supplant-
ing Mr. Wesley with the American people. What
I shall say of it is derived from my father^ and a
parcel of letters between Mr. Hammett and Mr.
Wesley^ — which came into my possession from. A
son of Mr. Hammett, as a token of his regard. I
set it down succinctly from these authorities. Mn
Hammett' s representation to Mr. Wesley by letter
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 80
was folly and strongly to the above effect; and
Mr. Wesley's answers to Mr. Hammett showed that
he believed it. Similar representations mad^ by
Mr. Hammett at the same time to the principal
Methodist gentlemen in Charieston and the Par-
ishes, were thus confirmed by Mr. Wesley's letters;
from which it might appear that since the Ra-
volutionary war, which carried Mr. Eankin back
to England, Mr. Wesley had had no such con-
fidential son in America as he deemed Mr. Ham-
mett to be. Those letters were to the date of the
year 1791, in which Mr. Wesley died. Mr. Hamr
mett therefore had the confidence of Mr. Wesley
(by what means does not appear) to the last of his
life ; and on that foundation he raised his society
of Primitive Methodists, both in Charleston and
Georgetown. And when we consider that there
were then no Methodist books published in Ame-
rica, and the people knew little of Methodism, or
of the action of the Conferences, but what they got
verbally from the preachers ; and that Mr. Ham*-
mett had been introduced by Dr. Coke as one of
the most godly as well as the most gifted of the
preachers, the wonder is not that he should have
drawn off to himself, under a banner inscribed
"Wesley against Asbury,*' some of the most influr
ential of the people, but we might wonder rather
that he did not seduce them all ; and tlje more, as
he was unquestionably an eloquent and able man,
of fine person and engaging manners^ and at first
vastly popular. But his work did not. prosj^i^.
90 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
He had estranged his adherents, of whom my
father was one, from the rest of the Methodists,
whom they called "the Asbury Methodists," for
no good result either to himself or them. But to
return.
I was introduced to Bishop Asbury immediately
on his first coming to the camp-meeting, as I hap-
pened to be in the preachers* tent at the time of
his arrival. I approached him timidly, you may be
sure, and with a feeling of profound veneration ;
but "Ah,'' said he, "this is the baby; come and
let me hug you :" meaning that I was the baby
when he was last at my father's house. On my
father's entering the tent, he rose hastily from his
seat and met him with his arms extended, and they
embraced each other with mutual emotion. It had
been some seventeen years since they had seen
each other ; and yet the Bishop asked after Sally
and Gabriel, as if it had been but a few months,
and repeated gleefully, "I have got the baby!"
It was evident that no common friendship had sub-
sisted between them ; and how much happier had
those years of estrangement been to my honored
father if they had been passed in the fellowship
which he had been seduced to leave ! I hate schism,
I abhor it as the very track and trail of him who
" as a roaring lion walketh about seeking whom he
may devour."
The camp-meeting over, I betook myself to the
circuit, as had been agreed upon ; not with the
fatherly sympathies and wise and godly counsels
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 91
of my friend Gassaway to sustain me, but to act
alone ; and that not as an exhorter only, but as a
preacher, filling daily appointments to preach. To
say that I felt incompetent, would not express a
moiety of my self-distrust. It was an incom-
petency in which a lack of every qualification ex-
cept a sense of duty and a desire to fulfil it seemed
to be present. But the good people of the circuit
were kind and affectionate, so that I was not per-
mitted to know if ever they considered me less
than acceptable. A few days only at home after
this round on Santee Circuit, and I got intelligence
of my appointment fpr the ensuing year, from Con-
ference. That Conference had been held at Liberty
Chapel, in Greene county, Georgia, the 26th of
December, 1808 ; and was attended by both of tlje
Bishops, Asbury and McKendree. I heard sub-
sequently that my admission had been objected to
by several of the preachers, on the ground that not
having yet been six months on trial, and by con-
sequence not in full connection with the member-
ship of the Church, I was ineligible ; but that the
objection was overruled by the Bishops; Bishop
Asbury deciding that in the absence pf any express
prohibition, though the inference by analogy was
against it, the Conference was free to act, and
admit me, if they deemed it proper, on the merits
of the case. I have known so many mistakes
about episcopal decisions, (and when, too, the
reporters seemed very positive,) that I will not un-
dertake to say that the reasons of the decision in
BS LIFE OS WtLLtA^M CAPERS.
tiusr case w-ere as I was told they were. But it in
certainly and exactly true beyond doubt or dispute,
that the objection above stated was made and
urged eamestiy, particularly by my venerable
friend, tiien in his prime, Lewis Myers ; and that
the Bishops (or Bishop Asbury, Bishop McKendree
beingpresent and not dissenting) did decide against
it ; and that I was then admitted, when I had been
but about five months on trial as a member of the
Ghupeh; And it is equally true that the Bishop
was not complained of for his decision ; and that
no subsequent General Conference deemed it pro-
per to take any exception to his administration,
nor provide against the like in future, as I have
known done in a recent case.
s I was appointed to the Wateree Circuit, which at
that time extended from Twenty-five-mile creek, on
the west side of the Wateree river, to Lann'&Ford
on. the Catawba ; and on the east side, from: the
neighborhood of Camden to within twelve miles
of Charlotte. Within this broad range there were
twenty-four preaching-places, and the time of a
round was four weeks, the distance about three
hundred mile^, the membership of the circuit four
hundred and ninety-eight whites and one hundred
and twenty-four colored^ And yet I was alone, th«
scarcity of preachers not allowing me a colleague.
K I felt my insufficiency on the round which 1
had ju«t concluded in Santee Circuit, where no-
things more was required but to preach and- meet
tiOLd eldsses, how much more now, when, with so
AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
wide m :fieM before ane, aod ao numerous •& micm-
bership to serve, the whole pastoral care devolved
on me without a helper. I had not dreamed that
(me so yotttig as I was might be put in charge at
ftU. Bat so it was. Nevertheless, I had not done
it; and should only have to answer for the manner
in which my duties might be performed. Thus
with fear and itrembling, but not without the cour-
age wbich a sense of duty and an upright purpose
inspires, I^s6t out to my circuit. I was in time for
the first appointment on the plan, at Sawn-ey's
OFBek meetiing-hottse, January 7, 1809. Here lived
tfaict most remar^kable man, J. J*, whose goodness
n© <ane evea* doubted, but "whose zeal was always
br^andishing in the temple a scourge of not very
small cords, as if for fear that some one anight be
pi^sent W5h© did not love the temple well enough
to ttfkke a-BCGurging for i t, and who ought therefore to
be driven out ; and in full faith that the more men
were baatem the better for them, as it would make
them more humble and less worldly-minded. His
was the -rfirst house I entered in my new field of
labor ; 4aid, if I might have been driven oft' by the
fi:r8t 'discouragement, he might have made my first
my Jast appearance in that quarter. I seemed
to be younger, greener, and a poorer prospect for a
preacher in his estimate than even in my own;
and he was an old preacher, and withal a famous
one. That first introduction to the responsibliti««
0f my a>ew charge was after this sort :
94 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
" Well, have they sent you to us for « ^
preacher?*'
"Yes, sir."
" What, you^ and the egg-shell not dropped off of
you yet ! Lord, have mercy upon us ! And who
have they sent in charge ?**
"No one, sir, but myself.**
"What! yoUj by yourself? You in charge of the
circuit ? Why, what is to become of the circuit ?
The Bishop had just as well have sent nobody.
What can you do in charge of the circuit?**
"Very poorly, I fear, sir, but I dare say the
Bishop thought that you would advise me about
the Discipline, and I am sure he could not have
sent one who would follow your advice more will-
ingly, brother J., than I will.**
" So, so. I suppose then I am to take charge of
the circuit for you, and you are just to do what I
tell you?**
"I would be very glad, sir, to have you take the
charge of the circuit.**
"Did ever! What, I, a local preacher, take
charge of the circuit? And is that what you have
come here for? Why, man, you know nothing
about your business. How can / take charge of
the circuit? No, no ; but I can see that you do it,
such a charge as it will be ; and if / don't, nobody
else will, for these days the Discipline goes for
nothing.** And he groaned deeply.
Such was the colloquy as well as I can rehearse
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 96
it; and you may be sure it made an impression
deep enough to remain with me.
But how could I endure all this ? In the first place,
I recognized my censor as one of the fathers of the
Church, whose character I had heard of as alike
remarkable for goodness and severity ; a holy man,
and zealous above his fellows, who always carried
a rod as well as a staft*; and deeply feeling, as I
did, the evil which oppressed him, I was prepared
to attribute his severity to its proper cause, and not
to any personal unkindness. And then there sat
before me his saintly wife.; one of the meekest,
gentlest, and best of her sex, whom, at first sight,
I had taken for a mother ; and if sister J. would
love me, my old brother might talk on. I knew
that there was cause of trouble to his spirit in the
unprovided state of the circuit, and thought that he
was only venting his troubled feeliiigs, without
meaning me any wrong. And this very con-
versation served to tell me that my motherly sister
did love me. I saw it in every muscle of her face,
while her sympathies were stirred too intensely for
concealment. Ah, thought I, woman for ever I
You may be no better than your husband, but you
are incomparably more lovely.
The next day I was to preach ; and I felt some-
what hopeful at night, on perceiving that he was
not disposed to renew his severities, and that, w^ith
all his austerity, he was evidently pleased with the
interest which his wife took in me, even making a
suggestion to her occasionally, which seemed to
96 LIFEOF WILLIAM CAPERS.
mean that she might use her balsam freely. But
his remarks were ill-judged, and did me harm. As
for the matter of personal offence, it was nothing.
I took no offence at it. But after I had left* his
house, and was gone on my work, that lashing,
scorching colloquy would recur, as if a prophet had
told me from the Lord that I was out of my place
on that circuit.
My second appointment, after leaving brother
J.'s, brought me to a place called Granny's Quarter,
(the name of a creek some twelve miles above
Camden,) of which I give another sort of anecdote:
My mind was intensely occupied with the study of
the Discipline, particularly the section on the
duties of preachers who have the charge of circuits.
And it happened that the eighth item of the answer
to question two of that section, which made it my
duty "to recommend everywhere decency and
cleanliness," had arrested my attention. It was
Discipline, and must be obeyed ; but how extreme-
ly delicate, thought I, must the duty sometimes be !
But there was a case just at hand. The house at
which I stopped was exceeding dirty, so that clean-
liness was out of the question, and even decency
put to the blush. But it was the house of a brother
and sister. Cleanliness was next to godliness ; the
Discipline required of Methodists to be cleanly, and
of me to recommend it everywhere. If I neglected
my duty under the Discipline, the people might
neglect theirs ; and if this particular one, then any
<rther as they liked. The case was clear ; my duty
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 97
plain ; but how to go to work in such a matter was
the question. Something must be done, and that
directly to the point. I must recommend cleanli-
ness to the sisterly housekeeper, or neglect my duty
and seem to wink at her uncleanliness. How was
I to do it? This question was uppermost in my
mind all the evening ; but to no purpose, for not a
word could I find to say. The next morning my
thoughts were still on my new and difficult task,
how to recommend cleanliness to my sister so as to
induce her to keep her house clean ; and still it
seemed a thing past my accomplishment. Break-
fast was brought in, and no expedient could I think
of, till, turning up my plate, which was of pewter,
and observing the color of it to be of that dingy
cast which it contracts from being used without,
rubbing, I began pretty much as follows :
" Where did you get your plates, sister ? They
are excellent for use at a distance from town, where
the breakage of crockery is often inconvenient,
and I wonder that I don't meet with such oftener."
"Got them at Mr. *s, in Camden. They
are mighty good for not breaking, but they don't
look as pretty as queensware does, is the reason, I
reckon, why people don't have them.'*
" Well, but if they are clean, you know, their
looking dark don't make any odds. Cleanliness,
to be sure, is next to godliness; but then it may
be with that as with most other things which may
not be just as they look. I have seen things that
looked clean when they were not clean, and these
7
98 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
plates are clean, I am sure, though they look ratber
darker than you would like to see them."
Her countenance here showed that she took the
hint, and, I thought, took it well ; so I proceeded,
and told of a sister whon) I loved very much for
her Christian qualities and her neat housekeeping,
who cleaned her pewter by rubbing it briskly with
fine sand on a piece of coarse woollen, just as I had
seen it done with brickdust, which I thought bet-
ter. This served for the pewter plates. Knives
and forks required the same sort of rubbing, as
they also contracted a dirty look by only washing
and wiping them, no matter how clean. I did not
like, though, the way I had sometimes seen some
little negroes doing it, by jobbing them into the
ground. It was better to rub the knives briskly
across a soft piece of plank on which brickdust or
dry ashes had been laid. And thus I proceeded
to the end of the chapter ; relieving it as best I
could, and watching closely the countenaliee of my
pupil, lest I should offend her. My work was done,
and, judging of the cause by the effect, it was well
done; for I never afterwards found that a dirty
house. The pewter plates and knives and forks
were not only cleaned, but made to look clean;
and my sister became one of the kindest and most
affectionate of my sisters. I stopped with tiiem
every round I made, and found myself always a
welcome guest and in comfortable quarters.
The general feeling of discouragement which
was apt to follow a recoUeetion of the strong terms
AUTOBIoiaRAPHY. 89
in which brother J. had expressed his disappoint-
ment at my being sent to the circuit and in charge,
began early on this first round to work temptation.
Startled aa he appeared to be at the unsuitableness
of the appointment, perhaps others might not
credit it at all. The country was strange, though
it was not far from home ; no one knew me, nor
had ever heard of me, and I might be rejected as
an impostor. Riding up to my preachiug-places,
the stare of the people seemed to say, " It is im-
possible; this boy cannot be the man.'' If, as I
passed through the company going into the meet-
ing-house, any one accosted me, the impression
was, I am suspected and shall be asked for my cre-
dentials. And this was the more annoying as I had
not with me a single line to certify my appointment,
nor that I was a preacher at all. It was on my
second or third round, that, coming to brother J,%
he asked me in his usual earnest manner how many
members I had turned out at H. meeting-house.
"None, sir.'* "What, do you let the people get
drunk, run for the bottle and turn up jack, and keep
them in the Church?'* "My dear sir, I hope
nobody does so at H. I am sure I never heard of
it." "A pretty piece of business," rejoined he;
" why, at Polly H.'s wedding a whole parcel of them
ran for the bottle, and old J. A. held it, and got
drunk into the bargain. And now you, the preacher
m chaar^y come here and tell me that you never
heard of it, though I can hear of it forty miles ofi^"
This was a poser for me. I had not a word to say.
343501
100 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
Can he be mistaken, thought I ? Surely not, or he
would not speak so positively. And then he gives
me names. But how could such monstrous wrong-
doing have been perpetrated without my getting at
least some inkling of it? I had not confidence
enough to ask him any questions, but sat con-
founded under a second flagellation, the wordy
strokes of which, however, were of little conse-
quence compared to the facts stated, that such
immoralities had been practiced, and that the
perpetrators had not been brought to trial. But
this was to be the last of my trials from brother J.
that year. With feelings too sad for society, I took
the earliest hour for retirement. My bed was in
an upper room, the floor of which was made of
loose plank, without ceiling of any kind at the
lower edges of the joists, which might have ob-
structed the passage of sounds from the room
below. And I had not been long in bed before I
heard my kind-hearted sister say, "0, Mr. J., you
don't know how much you have grieved me."
"Grieved you, Betsey,*' replied he; "how in the
world can I have grieved you ?'' " By the way you
have talked to brother Capers. I am afraid he will
never come here again. How can you talk to him
so?" "Why, Betsey, child,*' returned he, "don't
you reckon I love Billy as well as you do? I
talk to him so because I love him. He'll find
people enough to honey him without my doing it ;
and he has got to learn to stand trials, that's all."
Sister J. seemed not to be satisfied, but wished to
AtJTOBtOGRAPHT. 101
extort a promise that he would not talk so roughly
to me any more. But his conscience was concerned
in that, and he would not promise it. " You may
honey him,** said h^, "as much as you please, but
I go for making him a Methodist preacher.** Well
then, thought I, it is a pity, my old friend, that you
should spoil your work by not tightening your floor.
You might as well have promised it, for I will take
care that you shall not make any thing by the
refusal. The next morning it was not long before
something fetched up the unpleasant theme, and as
he was warming into the smiting spirit, I looked
in his face and smiled. " What !** said he, " do you
laugh at it?** "As well laugh as cry, brother J.,**
I returned ; " did you not tell sister J. last night
that you loved me as well as she did, and only
wanted to make a Methodist preacher of me ? I
am sure you would not have me cry for any thing
that is to do me so much good.** It was all over :
he joined in the laugh, and threw away his seeming
ill-humor. But as for the matter of the immorali-
ties at H., it turned out to be all a hoax. Some
wag, knowing how much such a circumstance
would trouble him, probably originated the tale
just for that purpose.
But I could not so easily divest myself of the
impression made on my mind by that first conversa-
tion with him. " What was to become of the cir-
cuit?*' and, "The Bishop had as well have sent no-
body,*' were words I could not digest. Surely, I
thought, they must express his judgment as to my
102 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
anfitnede for my work, "the egg-ehell not dropped
off of me yet." That judgment being against me, i»
the foundation of all this harshness after all ; and
perhaps I had as well give up the circuit and return
home. My mind became cloudy and uncomforta-
ble, and I was next tempted to doubt my being
called to preach ; so that before the first Quarterly
Meeting I was in great perplexity and sore trouble.
Indeed, I would have left the circuit, but for the
consideration that I was bound by contract with
the Conference to the contrary ; for such appeared
to me to be the nature of the transaction in which
I had offered myself for the itinerancy, had been
accepted, and was appointed to the circuit. At the
Quarterly Meeting, however, I would see the presid-
ing elder who represented the Conference, state the
whole case to him, and get myself discharged. In
the mean time I proposed to relax nothing in the
way of official duty; as, at the worst, I might be no
worse than the Scribes sitting in Moses* seat, and
the people had better hear the gospel from my lips,
and have the Discipline administered by me, than
be left wholly to themselves ; especially as I was
exceeding nice to avoid all speculation, and stick
closely to the books. But at the Quarterly Meeting
no opportunity presented for such a conversation
with the presiding elder as I wished, before preach-
ing on Saturday. He preached, and the sermon
seemed to have been formed for me. I was greatly
comforted and relieved ; so that the whole time of
his presence in the circuit passed without my saying
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 108
a word of what had beea intended. And yet he
wdn Bcarcely gone before the temptation returned
with redoubled violence, and I became unhappy.
There were several excellent men, local preachers,
in the circuit, (that father in Israel, Robert Hancock,
for one,) to whom I might have opened my mind to
great advantage, but Satan hindered me. The pre-
vailing suggestions for secrecy were, that even as
things were I might scarcely hope to do any good,
but to let it be known that I was not called to
preach, and yet was preaching, would turn the peo-
ple away from their duty altogether; and that if I
advised with any but brother J., whose judgment I
had already, the delicacy of the subject and kind-
ness of their feelings would get the better of their
judgment, and mislead me. To give up the work
I could not for the reason stated ; and to continue
in it under such extreme embarrassment, seemed
scarcely to be a smaller evil.
It W€t8 in such circumstances that, attending an
appointment at Carter's meeting-house, in Chester
District, I had the painful duty to perform of ex-
pelling one of the members on a charge of crim.
eon. It was a female. Her father-in-law, and the
connections on that side generally, believed her
guilty ; her husband held her to be innocent, and
was partially deranged on account of the afikir;
and all the society and most of the people of the
neighborhood were intensely enlisted for or against
the accused. The trial was conducted with exact
aojiformity to Discipline, and her triers found her
104 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
guilty. But on declaring the judgment of the
triers, and pronouncing her expulsion, a riot ensued
and considerable violence. Coming out of the
meeting-house, I heard of the " egg-shell** from this
quarter, a woman exclaiming at the top of her voice,
*' He had better go home and suck his mammy.**
Several were fighting, and among the rest was the
poor crazy husband fighting his father. I recog-
nized several members of the Church among those
who if not actually fighting were ready for it, and
profanely boisterous. And this sad aftair helped
me much. The "egg-shell,** and "sucking my
mammy,*' from the lips of a vulgar woman, changed
entirely the character of my fancied disqualifi-
cation for the work I was engaged in ; while I knew
that in that instance, at least, my duty had been
well and rightfully done ; and that the imputation
came from none of the Lord's prophets, but one of
those who were of the synagogue of Satan. It
served me also another purpose. It roused me from
a constant brooding over my unworthiness ; as it
furnished a new subject for my mind to act on, of
sufficient interest to engage it fully. What was to
be done, when I should come to Carter's meeting-
house on my next round, to reduce this confusion
to the order of the gospel, became the question,
instead of what I was to do with myself. At the
time, there was a very large congregation assem-
bled as if for some uncommon cause ; but I preached
on the truth and necessity of conversion, as if
nothing unusual had taken place. After sermon, I
AUTOBIOQRAl>flY. 106
made the usual appointment to meet the society
apart from the congregation, and told them that I
felt a special solicitude to have every one remain
for the society meeting whose name had been left
in the church-book at my last appointment. I knew,
and it was known to them, that some unhappy
things had transpired. Several weeks had since
passed, there had been time for reflection, and I
earnestly begged them all to remain. They all did
remain ; and after opening the meeting with singing
and prayer, I took the class-paper, and calling the
first name on the list, instead of addressing the
individual, as usual, with some question about the
state of his soul, I asked of the rest if there was any
thing against him ; telling them, at the same time,
that, in view of what had passed among them four
weeks before, and possibly other things since, I was
deeply concerned to have them in peace in order to
the blessing of God upon them. Peace we must
have, or, in the absence of it, a curse from the Lord
instead of a blessing. And I adjured them, if any
one knew aught against the brother named, he or
she should make it known. They need not state
what was the objection just then ; we would inquire
about it afterwards ; but only say there is something
against him. If there was nothing against him,
they might keep their peace. I should proceed to'
call the whole list in the same manner, for the same
purpose, that it might be known who was without
blame among them ; and I warned them that if at
any time there should arise any strife or quarrel
6*
106 LIFE 09 WILLIAM CAPEKS.
between any of them on account of any thing
which had then transpired, and of which complaint
being then called for none was made, the person
originating it should be held guilty of disturbing
the peace of the Church, and be accordingly brought
to trial. If either of them knew aught against a
brother or sister to interrupt their peace and fel-
lowship, they should then make it known, by only
saying one word : that was, there is something (no
matter what) against that brother or sister. At
that moment I felt that, for once, the boy was a
man. I had the bull by the horns and was able to
manage him. God had heard my prayers, directed
my mind aright, and given me strength and courage.
Having gone through the list, I had gotten a com-
mittee of persons to whom no one might object, for
the trial of all the rest ; and before the sun went
down we had finished our work, with the expulsion
of not more than two persons.
There are and ought to be exceptions to any gen-
eral rule. The evil is, (and it is a great abuse of
a just principle,) when the exception is plead as a
precedent, and put in the place of the rule itself
for an ordinary or not so extraordinary a case. I
had seen at the time referred to, a member of the
Church, and a clever man, with his coat thrown ofl
as if for a fight; and he did fight; and yet we did
not expel him. The melee in which he saw his
brother fighting his father, had surprised him into
the transgression; from which he quickly withdrew,
and betook himself in agony to prayer. And the
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. lOT
testimony was, that for more than two days and
nights he neither ate nor drank, but upbraided him-
self as one of the worst of offenders. He then
found peace, and at the time of this general trial
was exceeding happy, saying, " Expel me, brethren,
for the sake of the cause, but let me join again.**
And what would it have been to have expelled him,
and then taken him back again ? Or would it have
been right to treat him as another ought to have
been treated ?
Some time before this I had taken a new place
into the circuit, on the eastern side of it, called
Shaffner's; at which my preaching was much
blessed, and a society raised, among a plain but
very worthy people who had never before heard
Methodist preaching. And about the same time
the large and well-established society at McWhor-
ter*s meeting-house, in Mecklenburg county, N. C,
began to be favored with refreshing seasons, and
an increase of members. At several other places,
also, good was evidently done ; so that by the time
of my second Quarterly Meeting, I was enabled to
discover that my extreme discouragement was owing
to temptation, and not that I had obtruded myself
uncalled into the ministry. Afterwards to the close
of the year, there was no place where my ministry
was more favored than at Carter's meeting-house,
and, except perhaps McWhorter's, none where I had
larger or more attentive congregations.
In July of this year, (I think it was,) we had an-
other camp-meeting, at Rembert's in Santee Cir-
108 LIFE OK WILLIAM CAPERS.
cuit; and I was permitted to attend it. It waa
held at the same place as those of the previous
year, and was of the same character, both for the
great numbers of people, white and colored, who
attended it, and the powerful influence of the
gospel among them. Perhaps there is no spot in
Carolina, if in any other State, so remarkable for
the number of persons converted at its camp-
meetings as this one. It was on the land of that
old disciple, Henry Young, and I remember hear-
ing him say that he had known of more than five
hundred persons converted there, from 1808 to
1815, inclusive. But I mentioned this camp-
meeting for a recollection that on my return from
it to my circuit, I lost the only appointment which
I ever did lose on any circuit on account of incle-
ment weather. I was at my uncle's, and fond as I
was to be there, I suffered myself to be persuaded
to remain a day ; as by setting out the next morn-
ing at daylight I might reach the place of preach-
ing by riding twenty-five miles before the hour.
My good aunt had my breakfast ready before it
was day, but it was raining extremely hard, and
"waif* became the word. I waited till past any
practicable hour for the ride, and the weather was
still no better ; but then it cleared off, and my con-
gregation went to meeting without finding me.
Many a time afterwards the recollection of this in-
cident decided me to go when there was little or
no prospect of finding any one to preach to ; as I
never found any weather so uncomfortable as I
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 109
had been taught in this instance my feelings must
be if I disappointed a congregation. And having
written this desultory paragraph, I will add an-
other, which may serve for a comparison of the
past with the present with respect to an important
point embraced in the bounds of my circuit, though
not then a preaching-place.
A young lawyer of my acquaintance had settled
himself (though it proved not to be permanent) at
Lancaster Court-house, and came to my appointment
at Camp creek, to get me to take the village into
my round. An appointment was made for preach-
ing there, and on the day appointed I was early at
the village. But it happened to be sale-day ; the
court-house yard was well feathered with carts re-
tailing cakes and cider, and probably peach-brandy
and whisky, and the customers were too much
engrossed with these good things to allow of any
thing better. Preaching was postponed till night,
when it was thought the sober ones would attend,
and the drunken ones be gone home. The text
was, (N"um. xxii. 38,) ."And Balaam said unto Balak,
Lo, I am come unto thee : have I now any power at
all to say any thing ? The word that God putteth
in my mouth, that shall I speak.** And as I was
saying something about Balaam and Balak which
I thought suitable, some one rose up in the congre-
gation, and stepping a little forward, cursed me
with a loud, angry voice, and bade me quit that
gibberish and go to my text. Nobody clapped
him, and nobody reproved him, but it excited a
110 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
general titter. I did as I was bidden, but to no
better purpose ; he came a little nearer, and swore
that he could preach better than that himself, say-
ing, " Now, Mr., jist give me them thar books, and
you'll see.*' This appeared exceeding funny, and
of course the titter was renewed with increase.
And a third time he swore lustily that he could
beat me a preaching all hollow, and if he were in
my place he would go home and never try again.
I did, however, try it once more, and only once
more at that place. And then, as a set-off to the
previous outrage, the sheriff of the district fixed a
dancing-party for the night, in special honor, as I
was told, of the young preacher ; and I was invited,
(in earnest,) to attend it. That was the Lancaster
Court-house of 1809; and as I was to go by the
Discipline in every thing, I gave it up under the
rule of section xiv., answer to question 1. I had
no lack of preaching-places.
The latter part of the year passed off without
any thing remarkable more than is usually met
with. My old friend J., whose unfortunate auster-
ity had been at first so injurious to me, had become
one of my kindest friends, and the most reliable
of my advisers in all cases of difliculty. Every-
where I was treated with affection; and at most
places I had brothers and sisters whom I loved as
if I had been born with them. And these were
the great means of my deliverance from the sore
temptations of the past time: the fruit which
it pleased God to give me of my labors, the
AUTOBIO^RAPHT. Ill
affectionate confidence of the people, and mj love
for them.
At the close of the year, Bishop Asbury passed
through ray circuit on his way to Conference ; and
it was arranged for me to meet him at Waxaws,
(General Jackson's birthplace,) and attend him
along a somewhat circuitous route to Camden.
I met him at the house of that most estimable
man and worthy local preacher, Robert Han-
cock, who had been more than a friend to me,
even a father, from the beginning. The Bishop
was then accompanied by the Rev. Henry Boehm
as his travelling companion; so long afterwards
known in the Philadelphia Conference as one of
the purest and best of Methodist ministers^ and
whose society I found to be as " the dew of Her-
mon." This was the last of my itinerant year on
Wateree Circuit ; and as I have had quite enough
of the disagreeable in my account of it, I will end
the chapter (perhaps more to your liking) with
an anecdote of my first night and last night on this
trip with the Bishop. I met him when a heavy
snow had just fallen, and the north-west wind
blowing hard made it extremely cold. The snow
had not been expected, and our host was out of
wood ; so that we had to use what had been picked
up from under the snow, and was damp and in-
combustible. Our bed-room was a loft, with a fire-
place to it and plenty of wood ; but how to make
the wood burn was the question. I had beei» at
work blowing axkd blowing, long before bedtiuM^
112 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
till, to my mortification, the aged Bishop came up,
and there was still no fire to warm him. "0
Billy, sugar,*' said he, as he approached the fire-
place, "never mind it; give it up: we will get
warm in bed.'* And then stepping to his bed, as
if to ascertain the certainty of it, and lifting the
bedclothes, he continued, " Yes, yes, give it up,
sugar, blankets a plenty." So I gave it up, think-
ing the play of my pretty strong lungs might dis-
turb his devotions, for he was instantly on his
knees. Well, thought I, this is too bad. But how
for the morning ? Bishop Asbury rises at four —
two hours before day — and what shall I do for a
fire then ? No lightwood, and nothing dry. But it
occurred to me that the coals put in the m.dst of
the simmering wood might dry it sufliciently to
keep fire and prepare it for kindling in the morn-
ing; so I gave it up. But then, how might- 1 be
sure of waking early enough to kindle a fire at four
o'clock ? My usual hour had been six. And to meet
this difliculty, I concluded to wrap myself in my
overcoat, and lie on the bed without using the
bedclothes. In this predicament I was not likely
to oversleep myself on so cold a night ; but there
might be danger of my not knowing what hour it
was when I happened to awake. Nap after nap
was dreamed away, as I lay shivering in the cold,
till I thought it must be four o'clock; and then
creeping softly to the chimney and applying the
breath of my live bellows, as I held my watch to
the reluctant coals to see the hour, I had just made
AUTOBIOaRAPHY. 118
it out, when the same soft accents saluted me,
" Go to bed, sugar, it is hardly three o'clock yet.*'
This may do for that first night ; and the last was as
follows : It had rained heavily through the night,
and we slept near enough the shingles for the bene-
fi.t of the composing power of its pattering upon
them. It was past four o'clock, and the Bishop
was awake, but "Billy sugar" lay fast asleep. So
he whispered to Brother Boehm not to disturb
me, and the fire was made, they were dressed, had
had their devotions, and were at their books, be-
fore I was awake. This seemed shockingly out of
order ; and my confusion was complete, as, waking
and springing out of bed, I saw them sitting be-
fore a blazing fire. I could scarcely say good
morning, and the Bishop, as if he might have been
ojffended at my neglect, affected not to hear it.
Boehm, who knew him better, smiled pleasantly,
as I whispered in his ear. Why didn't you wake
me ? The Bishop seemed to hear this, and closing
his book, and turning to me with a look of down-
right mischief, had an anecdote for me. " I was
travelling," said he, "quite lately, and came to a
circuit where we had one of our good boys. 0, he
was so good! and the weather was as cold as it
was the other night at brother Hancock's ; and as
I was Bishop Asbury, he got up in the bitter cold
at three o'clock to make a fire for me. And what
do you think? He\8lept last night till six." And
he tickled at it as if he might have been a boy
himself. And this was that Bishop Asbury whom
8
114 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
I have heard called austere: a man, confessedly,
who never shed tears, and who seldom laughed,
but whose sympathies were, nevertheless, as soft as
a sanctified spirit might possess.
The time of Conference (December, 1809) was
spent at home, and in visiting my sister and uncle,
with great satisfaction. And at the first intelli-
gence I was ready to be off to my next circuit, which
was Pee Dee, (comprehending the present Black
River and Darlington Circuits,) stretching from the
neighborhood of Georgetown upward through Wil-
liamsburg and a part of Sumter District, to a point
on Lynche's creek about opposite to Darlington
Court-house, thence across that creek to a short
distance above a smaller one called the Gully, and
downward by Darlington Court-house and Jeffers*8
creek, so as to include all of that part of the
country lying on the west side of Pee Dee river
and the route .just described. On this circuit I had
for my colleague the Rev. Thomas D. Glenn, who was
in charge. My recollections supply little concerning
myself for the six months that I was continued on
it, more than the common routine of travelling,
preaching, and meeting the classes. It was in this
circuit, however, that my first wife lived, then
fifteen years old, but looking younger than her age.
And, although I entertained not the most distant
idea of marriage, and she was by no means grown,
T was conscious of an attachment to her which
must have overcome my prudence (with her con-
sent) had she been a little older. I say prudence^
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 115
for in those days of long rides and little quarterage,
with no allowance for family expenses, it was
deemed vastly imprudent for a young preacher to
marry, should he even get an angel for his wife.
Riding, and preaching, and meeting class, then, I
went round the circuit till the second Quar-
terly Meeting, after such a common fashion as to
furnish nothing for remark, except a dry story
about a witch, and perhaps one about losing my
suspenders. No, it was here that I learned by ex-
perience that it was improper for a preacher on
such a circuit to prescribe to himself certain stated,
days weekly to be kept as fast-days. I had pro-
posed to myself to observe strictly every Friday as
a fast-day, eating nothing till near night, and every
Wednesday as a day of abstinence, eating lightly
only of vegetables. On one Wednesday I had to
take this light breakfast of a bit of bread and a cup
of coffee at the house of my well-remembered old
friend, the Rev. Thomas Humphries, on Jeffers*s
creek, and ride twenty-two miles to preach and
meet the class, and afterwards twelve miles farther
to my 'stopping-place, without food. Thursday 1
rode not quite so far, preached and met class.
And Friday, my absolute fast-day, I rode from
fifteen to seventeen miles to my daily work, and
fourteen miles afterwards. This was repeated but
a few times before I became satisfied that it was
wrong, and that the duty of fasting ceased to be a
duty when one could not rest. I fear that I may
have erred much oftener since on the other extreme,
116 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
and excused myself from fasting when it ought not
to have been neglected. And I will venture the
remark as a general one concerning this duty aa
observed by the Methodists then and now : if we
were then too strict, have we not since become too
lax?
But the story of the witch : I had preached and
held class at the Gully, (I dare say the witches have
all disappeared from there long ago,) and was come
to a brother's house to pass the night, when I asked
him who that singular-looking old lady was who
sat just before the pulpit during class, and had not
her name on the class-paper. "0,'' said he, "she
is the old witch!** "Witch? And if she is a
witch, why do you suffer her to stay in class?*'
" Suffer her! why, we are afraid of her, and if you
knew how much mischief she had done, you would
be afraid of her too.** And he went on to tell of
the poor women*s cows she had shot with hair-balls,
and how with a single hair-ball, or a great many of
them fired at once^ she had killed in a moment
every fowl in the yard of some poor woman whom
she had a grudge against. The story was long
enough to allow me time to recollect myself, and I
only answered that she must be too bad to stay in
class, at any rate. On my next round, seeing the
same person on the same seat, after preaching I
repeated the rule, "At every other meeting of the
class in every place, let no stranger be admitted;"
an^ remarked that as no such restriction had been
observed on my last round, I should observe it then.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. IM
BTo stranger, meaning no one not a member of th6
Church, could be allowed to stay in during the
class-meeting which we were then going to hold,
and that if there might be any one present who
wished to join the Church, and so secure the right
of being present at all our meetings, such person
would please come forward and join the Church.
The old woman looked as if she might have been
struck with her hair-ball herself, and dropped her
head, as if to conceal her face behind the frontis-
piece of her long black bonnet. "Ma'am,** I
asked her, "are you a member of our Church?"
But she did not notice the question. "You,
ma'am,'* I repeated, "are you a member of the
Church ? Please tell me, for if you are not, you
have to join or go out." There was no mistaking
as to who was meant, and she shook herself with a
strange wriggling motion, not unlike a turkey in
the sand, muttering something like boo,ji.boo, boo,
woo, woo, woo. " You won't be offended with me,
ma'am, for I must do my duty, and if you won't
go out I must lead you out." The wriggle seemed
almost a spasm, and the boo, boo, woo, woo,
rumbled in her throat as if she might be strangling*
" Shall I have to lead you out, ma'am, and you a
lady too?" Boo, boo, woo, woo, and up she got
and was off, shaking and tossing herself, as she
went, most ridiculously. But I had spoiled our
class-meeting. The terror of her anger was upcm
us, and what would she not do, poor old woman ?
My good but weak brother told me that evening he
118 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
thought me very bold for such a young man. "Bold,
because I would not let a poor befooled old woman
scare me?" "But she was a witch!*' "Then let
her shoot my horse/* "Ah,'* said he, "I don't
know if you will ever get him round here again.**
"I dare say,** said I, " she would kill him if she
could, but she can*t, and if she don*t kill him she
is no witch.**
But about the suspenders : It was not far from
the Gully (I think some eight or ten miles) that I
lost my suspenders. And the way of it was this :
Brother D., a weak but eminently pious man, had
conducted me home with him from a very refresh-
ing meeting; and having retired to a room for
secret prayer, as he came out with a beaming coun-
tenance, exceeding happy, "0, Brother Capers,**
he exclaimed, " how I love you ! I love to hear
you preach, I love to hear you meet class, T love
you anyhow, but 0, them gallowses ! Won*t you
pull them off?** "Pull them off, my brother, for
what?** "O,** said he, "they make you look so
worldly; and I know you ain*t worldly neither,
but do pull them off.** So I pulled them off, and
it was several years before I put them on again.
At our second Quarterly Meeting, which was
early in June, (1810,) I was removed from this cir-
cuit to the town of Fayetteville, North Carolina.
The case was urgent, and my removal sudden ; so
that I went immediately after the Quarterly Meeting,
and on the 13th day of the month was in my new
charge. What had been my chief concern the year
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 119
before in Wateree Circuit, was now become a
secondary matter, and not how to administer the
Discipline, but how to serve the people from the
pulpit, was now the point of principal importance.
For the administration of Discipline, as it concerned
my office as preacher in charge, the rules were few
and plain ; and if in any thing I might be doubtful,
I was sure to have reliable advisers. But how was
I to preach four sermons a week to the same con-
gregation without repetition? And how could I
expect to keep a congregation who should be served
with repetitions of the same matter, which, at the
first hearing, might be only tolerable ? The first
thing that struck me as necessary was, that I should
keep strictly to the text, and never bring in matter
which did not directly spring from it. There must
be matter enough in any text I should take to make
a sermon, and when I had delivered that, and such
exhortation as it naturally furnished, I must be
done. Then I must be always mindful that I had
to preach, and conduct my reading and thinking
so as to be on the alert to find preaching-matter.
But still I found myself worried with the appre-
hension of repeating the same thing over again, as
it seemed impossible to recollect at any one time
, all that I had been preaching previously. And it
struck me that, like the promiscuous passing
of carriages along a street where no one ever thinks
of keeping or avoiding tracks, compared to the
market roads, which, though less travelled, are
much more rutted, I might probably gain my ob-
120 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
ject more easily by forgetting than by remembering
previous discourses, if, indeed, I might gain it at
all. And I determined to try, in addition to the
two preceding rules, the effect it might have for
me to put out the tracks as soon as I should make
them, by not recollecting any thing I had preached,
but preaching each time as if I had not done so
before. I mention this, not to recommend it to
others, but because of its influence over my own
practice ; and the more, as the rule adopted then
has generally governed me since. But I am sure
by experience that the third can only be allow-
able in connection with the first and second rule.
For although while preaching was my sole business
I never doubted that my plan was the best for me,
I have not been so confident of it since I have been
charged with other duties to a degree which has
much diverted my attention from it. To be an off-
at-hand preacher requires indispensably for one to
keep his work always in mind, and so actively as
to press into his service for the pulpit whatever
may be desirable for it. And if one would have
new matter in every discourse, he must look for it
in what has come under his observation in books,
in men, in every thing he has met with since he
preached last. But, above all things else, it is by
studying the Scriptures with an active preaching
mind, that we may bring forth to effect things new
and old in all our pulpit efforts.
For the performance of pastoral duty, I visited
each family of my charge once a week, appropriat-
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 121
mg the time from 9 o'clock A. M. to 1 P. M. for
live days of the week to this purpose, and allowing
a half-hour to each house I visited. The names of
the families were appropriated to each day, and
with which one to begin and end for the day, so
that each family knew within a few minutes when
to expect me. I considered these stated visits as
so many appointments which I might not disap-
point^ and was seldom absent at the time when I
was looked for.
In this pleasant town, with such people as the
Blakes, Coburn, Lumsden, Saltonstall, McDonald,
Thomas, Eccles, Price, and others, I was most
agreeably situated. But what contributed most to
my happiness as regards society, was the uncom-
mon attachment to each other which subsisted
between that most pure-hearted and intelligent
man, the Rev. John H. Pearce, and myself. He was
generally considered eccentric and enthusiastic.
But I knew him as he knew himself, and I never
discovered any eccentricity in him, but this : that,
being a bachelor, he wore a coarse wool hat as long
as he could keep ij; whole, brogan shoes, and clothes
at the lowest price, that he might save every penny
in his power for the poor ; for whom, whoever they
might be of virtuous reputation, he felt a more
lively and intense sympathy than any other person
whom I have ever known. He was enthusiastic,
as a matter of course ; for he loved the Lord his
Qod with all his heart, and his neighbor as him-
self; which the world and half-fashioned Christians
6
122 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
have ever held to be the height of enthusiasm. I
never found him wanting of a reason of the hope
that was in him, nor of his conduct in any matter,
which those who blamed his enthusiasm and eccen-
tricity might answer from the Scriptures. Love
seemed to be his universal element, gentleness and
meekness the forms of its manifestation. He was
originally from Rhode Island, had been w^ell bred,
and at this time had two brothers, Oliver. and Na-
thanael, who occupied first places in the community
as to wealth and worldly respects. John had been
brought up to the profession of physic, embraced
deism in his youth, and adopted the Epicurean
morals ; but he had now been for some years con-
verted to God, and was such an example of unlim-
ited self-devotion as I doubt if T have ever known
exceeded, if equalled. And what made him parti-
cularly interesting to me was his continually happy
spirit, which kept his countenance ever upward,
ever bright. With him, it was impossible for me
to suffer a moment's discouragement about any
thing ; and such was our mutual attachment, that
we were never apart when it was consistent with
duty for us to be together.
With such names as I have mentioned above, it
should seem that there must have been abun-
dant means for the support of the ministr3\ No
doubt there was; and no doubt, too, that if the
Church had been well organized as regards fiscal
affairs, there would have been ample accommoda-
tions for the preacher, without having him to board
AtJTOBIOaRAPHY. 123
from house to house among his people. But the
general policy of the Church was, to have an un-
married ministry to suit the long rides to the scat-
tered appointments of circuits a hundred miles
through ; the towns were not yet considered as
requiring any thing materially different from the
circuits ; and except the parsonage-houSe in George-
town, built for Mr. Hammett and at his instance, and
a poor hull of a house in Wilmington, built by Mr.
Meredith for his use, the only parsonage-house in
the three States of North and South Carolina and
Georgia was in Charleston : that famous old
yellow coop which stood in Bethel churchyard;
in which, when that very great man, soul and body.
Dr. Olin, was stationed there, he could not stand
upright in his chamber. But why build parsonage-
houses for single men, either in town or country ?
In the present case, it would have been regarded a
downright evil ; and the incumbent now to be pro-
vided for out of the question, there were too many
homes for the preacher, and too much interest felt
at each of them to have him there, for a thought
to be entertained of building a preacher's-house.
Were they not all his houses, and the best of their
accommodations at his service ? For the six
months of my pastorate in Fayetteville, I lodged
successively with brothers Price, Blake, Coburn,
and Lumsdeu: four instead of one, (their places
being convenient,) on the circuit principle of alter-
nating with the people ; because, if the preacher
was a blessing, they should share it, and if a bur-
tSU LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
den, they should bear it among them severalh
I was put under the kindest obligations to them,
the remembrance of which is more than pleasant;
particularly those most excellent men and theii
saintly wives, Isham Blake and John Ooburn :
fathers and mothers were they indeed to me.
But the most remarkable man in Fayetteville
when I went there, and who died during my stay,
was a negro, by the name of Henry Evans. I say
the most remarkable in view of his class ; and I call
him negro, with unfeigned respect. He was a negro :
that is, he was of that race, without any admixture
of another. The name simply designates the race,
and it is vulgar to regard it with opprobrium. I
have known and loved and honored not a few
negroes in my life, who were probably as pure of
heart as Evans, or anybody else. Such were my
old friends, Castile Selby and John Boquet, of
Charleston, Will Campbell and Harry Myrick, of
Wilmington, York ColJen, of Savannah, and others
I might name. These I might call remarkable for
their goodness. But I use the word in a broader
sense for Her\ry Evans, who was confessedly the
father of the Methodist Church, white and black,
in Fayetteville, and the best preacher of his time
in that quarter ; and who was so rernarkable, as to
have become the greatest curiosity of the town;
insomuch that distinguished visitors hardly felt
that they might pass a Sunday in Fayetteville
without hearing him preach. Evans was inmi
Vbginia ; a shoemaker by trade, and, I think, wa®
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 125
IxHrn free. He became a Christian and a Methodist
quite young, and was licensed to preach in Virginia.
While yet a young man, he determined to remove
to Charleston, S. C, thinking he might succeed
best there at his trade. But having reached Fay-
etteville on his way to Charleston, and something
detaining him for a few days, his spirit was stirred
at perceiving that the people of his race in that
town were wholly given to profanity and lewdness,
ftever hearing preaching of any denomination, and
living emphatically without hope and without God
in the world. This determined him to stop in
Fayetteville ; and he began to preach to the negroes,
with great effect. The town council interfered,
and nothing in his power could prevail with them
to permit him to preach. He then withdrew to the
saiid-hiUs, out of town, and held meetings in the
woods, changing his appointments from place to
place. No law was violated, while the council was
effectually eluded ; and so the opposition passed
into the hands of the mob. These he worried out
by changing his appointments, so that when they
went to work their will upon him, he was preaching
somewhere else. Meanwhile, whatever the most
honeet purpose of a simple heart could do to recon-
cile his enemies, was employed by him for that end.
He eluded no one in private, but sought opportu-
lities to explain himself; avowed the purity of his
intentions ; and even begged to be subjected to the
scrutiny of any surveillance that might be thought
proper to prove his inoffensiveness ; any thing, so
126 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APBR8.
that he might but be allowed to preach. Happily
for him and the cause of religion, his honest coun-
tenance and earnest pleadings were soon powerfully
seconded by the fruits of his labors. One after
another began to suspect their servants of attend-
ing his preaching, not because they were made
worse, but wonderfully better. The eftect on the
public morals of the negroes, too, began to be seen,
particularly as regarded their habits on Sunday,
and drunkenness. And it was not long before the
mob was called oft' by a change in the current of
opinion, and JEv^ns was allowed to preach in town.
At that time there was not a single church edifice
in town, and but one congregation, (Presbyterian,)
who worshipped in what was called the State-house,
under which was the market ; and it was plainly
Evans or nobody to preach to the negroes. Now,
too, of the mistresses there were not a few, and
some masters, who were brought to think that the
preaching which had proved so beneficial to their
servants might be good for them also ; and the
famous negro preacher had some whites as well as
blacks to hear him. Among others, and who were
the first fruits, were my old friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Lumsden, Mrs. Bowen, (for many years Preceptress
of the Female Academy,) Mrs. Malsby, and, I think,
Mr. and Mrs. Blake. From these the gracious influ-
ence spread to others, and a meeting-house was
built. It was a frame of wood, weatherboarded
only on the outside without plastering, about fifty
feet long by thirty feet wide. Seats, distinctly
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 127
separated, were at liret appropriated to the whites,
near the pulpit. But Evans had already become
famous, and these seats were insufficient. Indeed,
the negroes seemed likely to lose their preacher,
negro though he was, while the whites, crowded
out of their appropriate seats, took possession of
those in the rear. Meanwhile Evans had repre-
sented to the preacher of Bladen Circuit how things
were going, and induced him to take his meeting-
house into the circuit, and constitute a church
there. And now, there was no longer room for the
negroes in the house when Evans preached ; and
for the accommodation of both classes, the weather-
boards were knocked off and sheds were added to
the house on either side ; the whites occupying the
whole of the original building, and the negroes
those sheds as a part of the same house. Evans's
dwelling was a shed at the pulpit end of the
church. And that was the identical state of the
case when I was pastor. Often was I in that shed,
and much to my edification. I have known not
many preachers who appeared more conversant
with Scripture than Evans, or whose conversa-
tion was more instructive as to the things of God.
He seemed always deeply impressed with the re-
sponsibility of his position ; and not even our old
friend Castile was more remarkable for his humble
and deferential deportment towards the whites
than Evans was. Ifor would he allow any partiality
of his friends to induce him to varv in the least
degree the line of conduct or the bearing which
128 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPEftS.
he had prescribed to himself iu this respect ; uevet
speaking to a white man but with his hat under
his arm ; never allowing himself to be seated in
their houses ; and even confining himself to the
kind and manner of dress proper for negroes in
general, except his plain black coat for the pulpit.
"The whites are kind to me, and come to hear me
preach," he would say, "but I belong to my own
sort, and must not spoil them." And yet Henry
Evans was a Boanerges; and in his duty feared not
the face of man,
I have said that he died during my stay in Fay-
etteville this year, (1810.) The death of such a
man could not but be triumphant, and his was dis-
tinguishingly so. I did not witness it, but was with
him just before he died ; and as he appeared to me,
triumph should express but partially the character
of his feelings, as the woixi imports exultation at a
victory, or at most the victory and exultation to-
gether. It seemed to me as if the victory he had won
was no longer an object, but rather as if his spirit,
past the contemplation of triumphs on earth, were al-
ready in communion with heaven. Yet his last breath
was drawn in the act of pronouncing 1 Cor. xv.
57 : " Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ." It was my
practice to hold a meeting with the blacks in the
church directly after morning preaching every
Sunday. And on the Sunday before his death,
during this meeting, the little door between his
humble shed and the chancel where I stood was
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 129
opened, and the dying man entered for a last fare-
well to his people. He was almost too feeble to
stand at all, but supporting himself by the railing
of the chancel, he said : "I have come to say my
last word to you. It is this: None but Christ.
Three times I have had my life in jeopardy for
preaching the gospel to you. Three times I have
broken the ice on the edge of the water and swum
across the Cape Fear to preach the gospel to you.
And now, if in my last hour I could trust to that,
or to any thing else but Christ crucified, for my
salvation, all should be lost, and my soul perish
for ever.*' A noble testimony! Worthy, not of
Evans only, but St. Paul. His funeral at the
church was attended by a greater concourse of
persons than had been seen on any funeral occasion
before. The whole community appeared to mourn
his death, and the universal feeling seemed to be
that in honoring the memory of Henry Evans we
were paying a tribute to virtue and religion. He
was buried under the chancel of the church of
which he had been in so remarkable a manner the
founder.
Looking back on my past life, I know no single
duty which I might suppose myself to have dis-
charged in measure and manner as I ought to have
done ; and if some bright spots appear in the gen-
eral shade, and there were instances of devotion
seeming to answer somewhat to my obligations,
they may not be relied on for my justification, but
9
180 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
show rather by contrast how much more has been
neglected than discharged.
** Jesus, thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress."
I have often been struck with the force of that
particular obligation which is stated in the office
of the ordination of deacons : "And furthermore,
it is his office to search for the sick, poor, and im-
potent, that they may be visited and relieved," and
have felt painfully how deficient I have been, how
much less than my duty I have done. The winter
was coming on with uncommon severity, and
brother Pearce, who seemed to live for the poor,
suggested that we might do something in their
behalf, several persons whom he knew being with-
out sufficient clothing or blankets to keep them
comfortable, or even more than preserve them from
freezing in the coming cold weather. And it was
agreed on between us that we would ask our friends
for some trifle to assist us in this charity. I pro-
posed to beg the money if he would appropriate it,
but he would by no means take for his share of the
service the luxury of applying what we might ob-
tain, and so we went together both in the getting
and the giving. The money in hand, what should
we buy with it? And he advised to divide it
equally to blankets and coarse woollens. These
were purchased; and the next thing, of course,
was to distribute them. They were large bundles,
requiring the shoulder; especially the blankets;
^AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 181
and lie shouldering the larger, showed me an ex-
ample with respect tq the smaller. I clutched it
under my arm, and off we went. . And why have
I not since spent many such a happy day as that ?
I remember that at one place, the house of an ap-
proved sister, where we left a pair of large Duffel
blankets and several yards of the woollen cloth,
there was but one whole blanket in the house,
which was employed as a wrapper for the poor man,
who, after destroyinghimself by intemperance, had
now been for several years hopelessly a paralytic,
requiring more of his wife's attention than a child
might ; while for their subsistence, and that of two
clever little boys of eight and ten years old, she
took in washing, having to bring her fuel on her
head, with the assistance of the little boys, a
mile and a half from the woods. But how could a
worthy member of the Church be suffered to en-
dure such distressing poverty? I. presume just
because she was so worthy as to prefer suffering to
complaining ; and as she was always looking decent
at church and at class, and those who should have
relieved her (and would have done so had they
known) were occupied with their own business,
her wretchedness was not suspected. Brother
Pearce himself had no idea of the extremity of the
case, though often in the house, till that day. Yes,
^Hhe sickj poor, and impotent'' — those very individ-
uals of them who have most need of assistance and
have the best claims for it — ^may live near by us and
we do nothing for them, only because we do not
iL$2 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
^s^areh'' for them, and they are backward to com-
plain.
Few half years of my life have been spent more
pleasantly or more profitably than the half year in
Fayetteville. Alas, that I should have profited no
more by the many that have passed on to the judg-
mout since that time !
At the close of the year I attended Conference
for the first time, (Dec. 22, 1810,) at Columbia,
South Carolina. The sessions were held in the
parlor of the Hon. (afterwards Governor) John Tay-
lor, who being at Washington City, and the house
unoccupied, most kindly gave the use of it for this
purpose. In my day, therefore, the time has been
when a gentleman's parlor was sufficient to accom-
modate a session of the South Carolina Conference \
and that the time too when there was no other
Conference south or south-west of it : no Georgia,
Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, nor Louisiana Con-
ference ; but all the travelling preachers south of
the Cape Fear river belonged to this Conference.
At this time we had seventy-four preachers belong-
ing to the Conference, employed on thirty-nine
circuits and stations, of which twenty-four belonged
to South Carolina and that part of North Caro-
lina lying south of Cape Fear and the head-waters
of Yadkin; fourteen belonged to Georgia; and
there were two preachers employed as missionaries
in Alabama. The returns gave us seventeen thou-
sand seven hundred and eighty-eight whites, and
^^t I^aifi6aen4 two huftdred «aid two color«d mei»r
bers of our eommunion ; and in all tho Conferences
together, including Canada, there were six hundred
and fifty preachers and one hundred and seventy^
four thousand five hundred and sixty members. I
wais now admitted into full connection with the
Conference and ordained deacon.
What most concerned me at this Conference wa«
Bishop Asbury's appeal to the preachers to induce
them to ofl:er themselves for the work in the South-
west, which lying beyond "the wilderness," (as the
country from the Ocmulgee river to near the
Alabama was called,) and yet another wilderness
of the Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians beyond
that, seemed as remote and inaccessible as Cali-
fornia might seem at present. It was before the
dawn of the day of steamboats, and not so much
as a stagecoach or hack passed through the land.
I was deeply exercised on this subject, and after
passing a sleepless night, mostly on my knees,
called on my faithful friend and foster-father, Gass-
away, for counsel. He advised me to open my
mind to the Bishop as freely as I had done to him,
and leave it for his decision whether to go or not go.
I did so without delay, and his decision was un-
hesitatingly against it. "Can't send you, Billy,
sugar,*' said the apostolic man, tenderly embracing
me ; " you won't know how to take care of your-
self." A very different appointment was before
ia?e, and I was sent to Charleston.
Perhaps we were rather cynical in those daj^s;
perhaps we are so still. Certainly we had no high
184 LIFie Olf WILLIAM GAPERS.
conceit of human nature in the mass; and wtj
may not have held each other to be incorruptible.
I believe our jealousy was a godly one, which,
though sometimes unfortunate and even unwise, if
not faulty, meant no evil ; and that, on the whole,
it was safer for the Church, though sometimes
severe to individuals, than the absence of it might
have been. Preachers (at least the younger ones)
were not often together for a few days without
giving each other a proof of love in some correc-
tion. It might be in their pronunciation of such
or such a word, some article of dress, or the way
the hair was combed; or it might be something
more serious, touching their spirit or manners;
so that we were always watching over each other,
and, as I believe, for good. It was a delicate duty,
but we deemed ourselves bound to the discharge
of it, on the principle of helping each other, in
view of our acknowledged imperfections, the sa^
credness of our work, and the confidential character
of our relation to each other. But this good
practice was liable to abuse by excess; and with
minds unfortunately constituted, it sometimes led
to unpleasant suspicions. And this was the more
likely to be induced, since with all our readiness for
correction, we studiously avoided any word of
praise. There could be no danger of being too
humble, we thought, though there might be of the
opposite; and above all things we should avoid
pride, as a preacher's greatest bane. And unfor-
tunately for me during the first half of this year,
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 185
my respected senior took it into bis head that I
was so much endangered by the attentions of the
people, it would require all his endeavors to keep
nie humble. We had at that time but two
churches belonging to our Connection in Charles-
ton. These were Cumberland Street and Bethel.
Trinity as yet was not ours, but three preachers
had been sent to the city, under a stipulation with
the trustees of that church to take it into our
circuit with the others; they managing things in
their own way as regarded discipline and the col-
lections, and engaging to pay the amount of the
quarterage of one preacher, (eighty dollars,) with-
out cost for board. And the failure of this experi-
ment was so utter as to induce the trustees, at the
expiration of the second quarter, to release them-
selves from their engagement, on the ground that
the stipulated eighty dollars could not be raised.
Our principal church was Cumberland Street, where
we had half a houseful or more in the mornings,
and more than the house could hold in the after-
noons and evenings. Bethel was not so large a
building, and, except in the mornings, was not so
well attended ; so that for the afternoons and even^
ings, whoever preached at Cumberland Street had
twice as many hearers as the preacher at Bethel.
Trinity, except in name, was out of the question :
no congregations could be got there. But my ap-
pointments, for several months together, kept me
to Bethel and Trinity for the afternoons and even-
ings, and Cumberland in the morning, with but
186 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
few exceptions. My name was second in the order
of the minutes of Conference, but for official busi-
ness the preacher in charge always passed me by
and asked assistance of my colleague, who was no
older than myself; and all for no purpose under
heaven but to keep me humble. My excellent
friend, the Rev. William M. Kennedy, was Pre-
siding Elder, and I asked his attention to this
matter. But he could only assure me that my senior
wished me no harm, but did it only to prevent my
being injured by what he called my popularity.
But does he not degrade me ? was a question not
so easily answered as that of the reason of the
course pursued. A slight change followed for a
little while only, and then the former manner of
rotation was renewed for the special benefit I should
derive from it as a counterpoise to popularity.
Happily for me, I believed that my senior col-
league was honest-hearted, though in this case in-
judicious ; and with the correction of what seemed
to me an ill-judged degradation, all was in harmony
and went on smoothly with us. During the many
years which have since elapsed, he has abundantly
proved his great worth as a man and minister,
and I have always confided in him as a friend.
You need not be told here of the sad disabilities
which our ministry had fallen under, before my
time, in consequence of the action of the General
Conference, instigated by Dr. Coke, with respect,
to slavery. At the time of our present date, (the
first of my knowing any thing about it,) we lay
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 187
under the ban of suspicion as disorganizers who
could not be trusted among the negroes without
danger to the public peace, all along the wealthier
portions of the low country from Cape Fear to the
Savannah river. My information of those earlier
times is to the effect that Methodism, on its first in-
troduction into the low country of South Carolina,
was as favorably received as anywhere else in the
United States. If we take Charleston for an exam-
ple, we shall find among the names of its first
members, Joshua Wells, John Stoney, Francis
Weston, Thomas Bennett, (father of the late Gover-
nor,) and others belonging to the best portion of
the community, even as the world might judge.
But before my time, we had become reduced to a
condition of positive obscurity ; and it might have
been said to the brethren there, not only that " not
many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty,
not many noble were called,'* but that none were.
And for the country, an anecdote or two may serve
to illustrate the matter. Among the chief of our
ministers of the first race was Reuben Ellis, and
among the most wealthy and influential of the
inhabitants of Cooper river, and second in either
regard to but few men in the State, was Eliaa
Ball, Esq. Mr. Ellis, travelling his district, called
at Mr. Ball's, and was courteously entertained.
And the conversation turning on the good that
might result from preaching to the negroes, it wafi
proposed to make an experiment that evening by
collecting them in the spacious piazza attached
138 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
to Mr. BalPs mansion, for Mr. Ellis to preach tc
them. He preached accordingly; and Mr. Ball
was so captivated with it, as to urge for another
evening's service. And before Mr. Ellis left, he
offered him a salary of six hundred dollars and his
board to remain permanently as his chaplain, and
to preach to his negroes every Sabbath day. This
anecdote I got from my father, who got it from Mr.
Ellis or Mr. Ball himself.
I cannot tell what may have carried Dr. Coke
there, but on that very visit to America which
proved so hurtful by the introduction, of his aboli-
tion measures, he happened to visit Edisto Island,
(the largest and wealthiest of our sea islands,) and
preached. And such was the influence of his
visit as to induce a petition for a preacher to be
sent to the island. One was appointed accord-
ingly, but before his arrival the storm from the
North was upon us, and he found no place for the
sole of his foot.
A singular state of things ensued. We had
belonging to the Church in Charleston, (1811,) as
if raised up for the exigences of the time, some
extraordinary colored men. I have mentioned
Castile Selby; there were also Amos Baxter, Tom
Smith, Peter Simpson, Smart Simpson, Harry
Bull, Richard HoUoway, Alek Harlston, and others,
men of intelligence and piety, who read the Scrip-
tures and understood them, and were zealous for
religion among the negroes. These were favorably
known in the country places, on Goose creek.
AUTOBIOGKAPHt. 189
Cooper river, Wando, St. Paul's Parish, St. James,
St. John, and Wadmalaw Islands, and even as far
as Pon-Pon river. I mean that in all these parts,
some one of them was known and approved by
some several of the planters, for whom they had
been accustomed to do work, (one as a millwright,-
another as a carpenter or shoemaker,) or out of
whose estates they had been liberated, or to whom
or whose near friends they belonged. And while
the white man, a citizen, born and bred on the soil,
and even owning slaves, for being a Methodist
preacher was excluded, as if by some sentence of
outlawry, these colored men were permitted to
hold meetings with the negroes pretty freely : as,
for instance, Holloway on Goose creek, or Amos
Baxter on Pon-Pon. And while they might re-
ceive any allowance at all on the part of the plant-
ers, or their meetings were only winked at, they
received on our part the most hearty encourage-
ment. Our plan was to recognize them as our
agents. We authorized them to admit and exclude
members ; kept regular lists of their classes as be-
longing to our charge in Charleston ; (for there was
no other to which they could belong ;) and they re-
ported to us minutely on Monday what had been
done on Sunday. They were the only persons who
for Christ's sake were zealous enough to undertake
such a service, and who, at the same time, could
get access to the people that that service might be
rendered. And I am satisfied that we did right to
encourage them to the degree we did, notwith-
140 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
stauding we could not exactly square it either by
the statutes on the one hand, or the rules of Discip-
line on the other. We knew them to be good
men ;. the work was one of the most sacred obliga-
tion to be done ; and this was our only alternative.
But how imperfect was such a half-fashioned expe-
dient, in comparison to the regular missionary
labors which. have since been bestowed in the same
quarters, under a better condition of things !
Under all the obloquy cast upon them, the Me-
thodists were, nevertheless, much esteemed. But
it seemed to be an esteem like that one might have
for inferior animals which render service, rather
than a recognition of their proper claims as a flock
of Christ's own fold. Their preaching might be
attended with great propriety, for almost every-
body did so, but who might join them? No, it
was vastly more respectable to join some other
Church, and still attend the preaching of the
Methodists, which was thought to answer all pur-
poses. And this has been the case long since the
year I am speaking of. The persons of that year
whom I can call to mind have gone to their
account ; and yet I hesitate not to say that if all
the individuals who have joined other Churches in
that city since 1811, professing to have been awak-
ened under the Methodist ministry, had joined the
Church where God met them, the Methodist Church
in Charleston might have ranked in worldly respects
with the very first, before this day.
This year we commenced preaching in the poor^
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 141
house with good effect ; and the praotice wa« kept
«p for many years afterwards.
In September I attended a call to the country,
which, by God's blessing, produced the nucleus of
Cooper River Circuit. A Mr. Hale, living on the
main road between Clemens's Ferry, (five miles
above Charleston,) and Lenud's Ferry, on Santee,
ten miles from the latter place, had represented
the destitution of preaching in his neighborhood
and that part of Santee, and requested that one of
the preachers should visit them. The lot fell on
me, and I found work for a week. The appoint-
ment was made for preaching at the house of the
applicant on Sunday, at eleven o'clock in the moruf
ing. There was a large congregation for a thinly
peopled country, who had not heard preaching of
any denomination for many years before. After
preaching I baptized a number of children ; and
the people still hanging on, as if reluctant to go
away, I preached a second time. The text wa?
Luke xix. 9, *' This day is salvation come to this
house.'* And although the people had been kept
so long in attendance, and the men generally stood
up for want of room or seats for sitting, their atten-
tion never flagged ; so novel was the occasion, and
so truly was there a gracious influence with them.
In the midst of the second service, a daughter of
Mr. Hale cried out arid sank to the floor. It pro-
duced but a momentary pause, and she being taken
into the next room, I proceeded with my discourse,
nfber remarking that it wm not so surprising that on6
142 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APEB8.
who had suddenly come to the knowledge of hei
condition as a sinner should be overpowered by it,
as that so many who could not believe themselves
to be in a safe state should be unconcerned about
it. I took it to be an instance of the literal fulfil-
ment of the text in the case of the young lady ;
who, I did not doubt, would be enabled to confirm
what I said, when I should visit them again. At
the close of the service, I appointed to preach on the
following Friday evening at the same place, and
made an appointment for Tuesday at a Mr. Comp-
ton's, near Lenud*8 Ferry. At Compton's, too,
there was a full attendance, and an encouraging
prospect. Returning to Hale's, I found the new
convert exceeding happy in the love of God, and
the rest of the family anxiously inquiring what
they must do to be saved. Nor was the work con-
fined to them only; but their neighbors hearing
that the preacher's prophecy had come to pass,
(which was no prophecy at all, but spoken on the
evidence of numerous examples,) they were flock-
ing to see for themselves what had taken place. A
class was formed, and the next year my brother
John was sent to form the Cooper River Circuit.
I might mention other incidents of this year
which were deeply interesting to myself at the
time. But as both they and their consequences
have passed away, and they might illustrate no-
thing of any value, I pass them by. The year
wound up pleasantly. We returned two hundred
^nd eighty-two whites and three thousand one huur
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 148
dred and twenty-eiglit colored members to the
Conference ; and left the Church enjoying great in-
ternal peace, and, indeed, prosperity.
The Conference was held at Camden, December
21, 1811. It was attended by Bishop Asbury,
alone. The Conference session was on the whole
a pleasant one; the preachers in the spirit of their
work, and eminently in the spirit of love.
There was one case in the course of the exam-
ination of candidates for full connection and
deacons* orders, which so remarkably illustrates
the economy of those times in relation to the mar-
riage of young preachers, (or I should rather say
the severity of the Conferences on that subject,
owing to what was conceived to be the necessity
of having them unmarried,) that I will relate it.
A. G. had travelled two years, and both of them as
the helper of the excellent Qassaway, and was
eligible to admission and election. No one of his
class stood fairer than he for piety, zeal, diligence
in duty, and usefulness as a preacher. Not the
shadow of an objection was there against him but
that he had married a wife ; who was in all re-
spects a suitable person, and of an excellent
family. And yet for this sole reason he was neither
admitted into full connection nor elected deacon.
Brother Gassaway urged with great force the au-
thority of 1 Timothy iii. 12. But brother Myers's
speech carried it against him ; the main point of
which was presented thus : "A young man comes
to us and says he is called to preach. We answer^
144 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
*I don't know.' He comes a second time, peiiiapci
a third time, even a fourth time, saying, * A dispensa-
tion of the gospel is committed unto me, and woe
be to me if I preach not the gospel.' Then we say
to him, 'Go and try.' He goes and tries, and can
hardly do it. We bear with him a little while, and
he does better. And just as we begin to hope he
may make a preacher, lo, he comes again to us,
and says, *I must marry.' We say to him, * If you
marry, you will soon locate : go and preach.' ' No, I
must marry, I must marry.' We say to him, 'A dis-
pensation of the gospel is committed to you, and woe
be u nto you if you preach not the gospel. ' * But no, '
he Bays, * I mitst marry.* Ajid he marries. It is
enough to make an angel weep !" It will naturally
be supposed that brother Myers was a single man ;
and his speech may indicate the controlling reason
why he was single: he connected marriage in-
separably with location ; or, in other words, a
carrying of the question, as one between preaching
and marrying, against one's conviction of his duty
to preach. The evil which required a remedy was
not that the preachers took wives, but the unpro-
vided condition of the circuits; which, without
parsonage-houses, or means or disposition to rent
houses for the preachers, and without a penny's
worth allowed for the support of families, devolved
on married preachers the unreasonable expense of
subsisting their families by their own means ; and
these proving insufficient for the purpose without
ll^ir personal labor, obliged them to desist &001
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 145
travelling. And what did it profit the itinerancy
to bear hardly on the junior preachers for marry-
ing, when, in most cases, it was only to suspend
for a few years the coming location ? Or how
much less cause might there be to make " an angel
weep," when, for marrying after five or six years
in the work, an able minister was driven to locate
for want of subsistence for his family, than there
was in his doing the same thing for the same
cause before he had become so useful ?
My appointment for 1812 was to Orangeburg
Circuit; the upper division of what had been
called Edisto Circuit, and which was now divided
into Salkahatchie and Orangeburg Circuits. It
consisted of thirteen appointments, and was tra-
velled in two weeks ; including the fork of Edisto
for some twenty miles upward, and the societies
between the north fork of that river and Beaver
creek, and thence downward in the direction of
the present State road to a point opposite to the
village of Orangeburg, and thence to the village.
A pleasant circuit it was, and a desirable appoint-
ment ; but I was not permitted to go so immediate-
ly to it as to my former appointments. At this
Conference I was required to act as assistant sec-
retary, brother Kennedy being the Secretary. And
the day after the session closed, when he would
have furnished the Bishop with the papers neces-
sary for publishing the minutes, that very import-
ant one, the returns of the numbers in society, could
not be found. I was directed therefore to make
10
146 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
haste back to Camden, (for we were theu at Beoob"
berths,) and search the Conference room for it ; and if
I could not find it there, to pursue after either of the
preachers who might have taken a copy, and meet
the Bishop at such a time, at such a place, with th«t
lost paper, or a copy, as the case might be. Haw
could such a paper have been lost? I was in-
volved in the fault; and that, too, on the first
occasion of such a service. My horse was a good
one, the best I have ever had; and I went after
the lost paper, (which at last proved not to have
been lost,) as if to recover it had been a matter of
the last importance. It was not in the Conference
room ; but some one had seen a brother who was
sent to the extreme corner of the Conference dis-
trict .taking a copy of it ; and off I went for Bun-
combe county, North Carolina. The weather was
of the worst, and exceeding cold, and my brother
had nearly two days start of me ; but on the fourth
day I had overtaken him, got what he had of the
lost numbers, and was on my way back. But so
hard a ride through wet and freezing weather, and
without sufficient clothing, had well-nigh knocked
me up, so that I had to lose as much time as my
rapid travelling had gained, (two days,) to relieve
myself of a fever and incessant cough. Still there
was time for me to meet the Bishop as he had ap-
pointed ; and I was off again to do so. I have
never been on any errand, nor engaged on any
other business, which absorbed my attention more,
intensely than the present. I had thought of ao-
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 147
thing else. So that when I discovered that to meet
the Bishop's appointment must almost necessarily
carry me to the house of the little girl whose love-
liness had so enraptured me two years before, and
who might now be grown up, it seemed a coiri-
cidence too strange to have been brought about bj'
accident. If I had thought of it, I might havie
arranged, to be sure, for the same coincidence.
But I had not thought of it. No idea of the sort
had entered my mind, till I found myself cal-
culating distances and stages on this renewal of
my jouruey, and found, as by chance, that my
second night must be passed at the house of my old
friend Richard Green, Esq., of Black River, in
Georgetown District, whose stepdaughter Anna
White was. I saw her, I loved her with an all-
pervading passion, and she consented to become
my wife. Nor did I delay my journey ; but met
the Bishop, (who found the lost paper within
an hour after I left him,) and was dismissed
for my circuit with his blessing. Another even-
ing on my way with her who was become, as by
magic, the soul of my soul, and life of my life, and I
was off for my circuit. I could not, however,
reach there so soon. Snows (for whatever reason)
were more frequent then than latterly in South
Carolina ; 'and since the two days* confinement at
my father's, by cold, I had had another day's
ride in the snow, so that a week was lost, as those
two days had been, on my way to the Orangeburg
Circuit.
148 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
The first quarter passed oft' exceeding well, and,
indeed, for all the time of my labors in this circuit
I might say the same, but for an unfortunate in-
volvement at the Quarterly Conference closing the
first quarter. Among the last acts of my prede-
cessor before leaving the circuit, and after the
fourth Quarterly Meeting had been held, was a
trial, involving great general interest, of a highly
respectable member of the Church at a place then
called Zeigler's, on an allegation brought by another
belonging to the society at Tabernacle. These
were the two most numerous and important socie-
ties in the circuit. Tabernacle being the first, and
this affair had involved connections on either side,
so that it had become little less than a general dis-
turbance between the societies as well as an alter-
cation between the individuals. On that first
investigation it had been given against the member
at Zeigler*s, and he appealed to the Quarterly Con-
ference. This Quarterly Conference was the first
in my year. The appeal consumed much time, the
case being sonaewhat intricate, and the witnesses,
pro and con, not a few. A sort of summing up of
the testimony was called for, and the Presiding
Elder, declining it himself, asked it of me. I
ought not to have attempted it, but his suggestion
seemed to be approved, and for the sole 'reason of
obliging my senior I did attempt it. This involved
me in the censure of those who were on the side of
the accuser, and in whose judgment the evidence
on the other side deserved no consideration ; and.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 149
notwithstanding the Presiding Elder's opinion that
I had been impartial and rehearsed fully the whole
case, I had to suffer a little for it. In the order of
my round I came first to Zeigler's, next to Wan-
namaker's, (now called Prospect, I think,) and then
to Tabernacle ; and at Zeigler's I got a note from
brother O. R., of the adjoining circuit, (Congaree,)
informing me that such and such principal men
belonging to Tabernacle had waited on him in
behalf of the society, requesting him to take their
church into his circuit, for the reason that the
people of Tabernacle would no longer attend my
ministry. And the reason of this reason was that,
on the hearing of the appeal at the Quarterly Con-
ference, I had given such a one-sided and perverted
view of it as proved that the defendant's pretty
sister had more influence with me than my con-
science. And my good brother and co-laborer was
so considerate as to advise me not to suffer any
personal feelings to weigh with me to the loss of
souls. Of course I would not ; and only answered
him that we had no authority, even at the instiga-
tion of the people, to transfer appointments from
circuit to circuit ; that I would not vindicate my-
self in the matter complained of, nor acknowledge
any fault, being conscious of none ; but that he
might preach at Tabernacle in my place until my
Presiding Elder, who was gone or about going to
the General Conference, should return and see to it.
Two days after, I attended in course on the for-
bidden ground, and had very few to hear me.
150 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEftS.
Them I told that I should not return there for some
time, hut that in the meanwhile brother R., of the
Congaree Circuit, would preach in my stead. And I
gave out his appointment for a certain day. But
on my second round of two weeks each, how great
was my surprise at seeing in my congregation at
Wannamaker's the very men who had been to
brother R. to induce him to take their society in
his circuit, and become their pastor on the ground
of my unworthiness ; and still more, to learn
from them that their object in coming was to induce
me to return to them as at first.* Was it to add
insult to injury that they did this ? By no means,
they assured me ; but because they were convinced
that they had done very wrong, and everybody
knew it. It appeared that a sudden and great re-
vulsion had taken place by means of an eminently
pious old sister. It is a curious story, and I will
relate it: Brother R. had preached his first ser-
mon, and was meeting class, when, calling the
name of this particular sister, and asking her how
her soul prospered, she answered that it had never
been worse with her than it then was, and she ex-
pected it to be no better while he continued to
preach there. She did not wish to offend him, but
he was not her preacher. " When," continued she,
" I first joined the Church, it distressed me very
much that the preacher had to go away, and he
told me that if I would set apart a day for prayer
and fasting, and would pray for it daily during
Conference, the Lord would send me a preacher
A U TO B I 0 G R A P H T. 1/>1
who should be to me the same as he had been. I
did as be told me to do, and the Lord sent me a
preacher. And I have been doing so ever since,
and the Lord has always sent me a preacher. I
did so this year, and the Lord sent me brother
Capers, just as he had sent the rest ; but I don't
know, brother, who sent you. One thing I know,
you are not my preacher. You belong to the Con-
garee people for this year, and brother Capers is
our preacher.** And so, "for the divisions of
Reuben there were great searchings of heart."
They knew not my secret, or they had spared them-
selves.
But to return to the brethren who had met me
at Wannamaker's. I would not consent to resume
my appointments at Tabernacle without seeing for
myself that justice had been done me with the
community; but I did consent that they might
make an appointment for preaching there of an
evening on my next round, when I would decide
what to do* At the time, I had a large congrega-
tion ; and the late malcontents seemed to vie with
those who had been most grieved on my account,
in their attentions to me. I resumed my ap-
poiotments : Tabernacle, as at first, continued the
head of the circuit; and I might have forgiven
the wrong, if only for the evidence it furnished,
that travelling preachers might not be less liable
to difficulties for being unmarried*
On this circuit I had every thing which a preacher
naight desire for contentment. There was work
152 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
enough, and my appointments well attended; at
almost every place I had affectionate Christian
friends, whose worth I was prepared to estimate,
and whom I loved sincerely ; with one slight excep-
tion, my health was excellent; and, above all, my
labors were not in vain. What gave me most con-
cern, was an habitual unbelief as to my Christian
experience. Not that I ever doubted the genuine-
ness of my conversion, and that I had received the
witness of the Spirit at the time before given ; nor
that I had again and again, on a great many occa-
sions, enjoyed manifestations of the grace of God,
as revealed in the gospel ; but the question of per-
plexity was as to the character of that state in
which I frequently found myself, when I might not
be able to assure myself that all was well, for want
of some special manifestation to assure me. It was
not a question of the past, but of the present time ;
and of the present, not as it might be connected
with the past, but as in itself it stood related to the
future judgment for my justification or the reverse.
Was I not " every moment pleasing or displeasing
to God?*' And if so, what was the character of
my state at those moments, hours, or days, in which
I felt not assured by its separate experience of my
being at that time a child of God ? Such questions
I was apt to examine in a light too strictly legal ;
or else with an undue regard to emotions, rather
than to principles and motives ; and hence I was
still liable to the pain of what I have called an
habitual unbelief as to my Christian state. I could
AUTOBloaRAPHY. 158
aot be satisfied with myself, not only as it regards
a comparison of what one is to what one might
he, but of what one is to what one has been, in
respect of a feeling of assurance. It was in this
Tame of mind that I went to a camp-meeting,
itbout midsummer, on Four Holes, just above the
bridge on the old Orangeburg road; deeply im-
pressed with my want of holiness, both for my own
happiness, and that my ministry might be profitable
to the people. This meeting was one of the very
best. ' At first I proposed to myself not to be active
in it, but to give myself as much as possible to
retirement and prayer, after hearing the sermons
from time to time. On this plan I passed several
days uncomfortably ; and instead of more light and
love, found my mind more and more perplexed. I
saw my error, and corrected it by going earnestly
to work for others ; and was much relieved, though
still unsatisfied. The meeting closed, and left me
to return to my circuit, lacking in faith, in love, in
the assurance of the Holy Spirit, and not, as I had
hoped, strong and exultant. I had never since my
conversion felt more dissatisfied with myself than
I did as, riding pensively along the road to my
circuit, I reviewed the history, both of the meeting,
and of my purposes and feelings in going to it and
during its continuance : how much I had needed ;
how little I had obtained : with what strong de-
sire I had anticipated it, as a time of extraordinary
blessing, and to what little purpose it had been
improved. Should I return to the labors of my
7*
154 LIFE OF WtiiLtAM OAPERS.
circuit still unrefreshed, like Gideon's fleece, dry
in the midst of the dew of heaven ? Why was it
so? Had I made an idol of the camp*meeting,
trusting to means of any sort in place of the all-
quickening Spirit ? And I turned aside into a thicik
wood, saying to myself. There is none here but God
only, and I cannot thus uncomfortable go back to
my circuit; I will even go to Him alone who has
all power in heaven and earth, and who has called
the heavy-laden unto him that they may find rest.
Jesus, Master, heal my blindness ! Give me &ith
and love ! I still remember how, as I hitched my
horse, I felt to pity him for the long fast he should
have to keep before he might be unloosed* But it
was not so. I had scarcely fallen on my knees,
with my face to the ground, before Heb. xii. 18, 19,
22, 23, 24, was applied with power to my mind :
" For ye are hot come unto the mount that might
be touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto
blackness, and darkness, and tempest, and the
sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words
But ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the
city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and
to an innumerable company of angels, to the
General Assembly and Church of the first-born
which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge
of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect,
and to Jesus the Mediator of the New Covenant,
and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better
things than that of Abel/* In that moment how
spiritual seemed religion, how intimate the conneo-
AtJTOBloaRAPHt. 166
fcion between earth and heaven, grace and glory,
the Church militant and the Church triumphant!
A od it seemed to challenge my consent to leave
the one for the other ; as if it had been proposed
to me, Would you give up all who are below for
those who are above, and count it now a high
privilege to have come literally and absolutely to
mingle with the innumerable company of angels,
and spirits of just men made perfect, in the hea-
venly Jerusalem, the city of the living God ? And
instinct said no, and all the loved ones on earth
seemed to say no ; but the words sounded to my
heart above the voice of earth and instinct, " Ye
are come!'' and my spirit caught the transport, and
echoed back to heaven, " Fe are come!** In that
moment I felt, as can only be felt, ** the exceeding
riches of his grace in his kindness toward us
through Christ Jesus." I returned to my circuit
with my strength renewed as the eagle's, full of
faith and comfort. Nevertheless, I did not per-
ceive that increase of power attending my preach-
ing which my former views of the reason of my
lack of success had induced me to expect. Things
went on much as before : sinners remained sinners
still, and backsliders were backsliders still. Our
clasB-meetingB only, seemed to have much improved.
Idolatry in its most subtle forms is but idolatry;
and I had to learn what St, Peter meant (Acts iii.
12) by saying, " Why look ye so earnestly on us,
as though by our own power or holiness we had
made tMs man to walk?*' The miracle had been
*
156 LIFB OS" WILLIAM OAI»fiItS.
wrought by the power of God ; and on the part of th«
apostle, simple faith, which looked away from all
within himself to Christ, was the . instrument of
taking hold on that power which Christ alone could
exercise, for the accomplishment of a Divine work.
This faith was not holiness, nor was Peter's holi-
ness that faith. True, such a faith might not be
exercised by an unholy man ; but still it was not
holiness, but simply faith. And it would not be
his holiness which had been the instrument of a
Divine work, because the holiness was his, substan-
tively ; a possession of grace w^hich God had given
him, and which the Spirit of God kept whole in
him, but which, nevertheless, was distinctively
Peter's holiness. It was not because Peter, was so
holy a man, but simply because he believed in
Christ, who had called him to the apostleship, that
the lame man was healed. The difference is as to
the object of each : the holiness of Peter directing
attention to him as a man sufficiently well qualified ;
while his faith points wholly to the Saviour as the
only and all-sufficient operator. For nothing that
Peter was, but for w^hat Christ was, the miracle had
been wrought; Peter simply apprehending the
power and compassion of his Lord, and speaking
the word as from his own lips, "In the name of
Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.'*
I make these remarks on a point which was of
some consequence to myself at least ; not as under-
valuing holiness — far from it — but as indicating the
source of all the perplexities of the past time.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 157
First, I could do no good because I was doubtful
of being called to preach. Then I could do almost
none at all, because I was so deficient as to Chris-
tian experience. When in heaviness through mani-
fold temptations, it had seemed presumptuous to
preach ; and when satisfied of my personal justifi-
cation, it was not much better, by reason of my
lacking holiness. And now that I was enabled to
" rejoice evermore," I might not give it a name,
because the proof was not sufficient to sustain the
name in my still scanty success. Nor was this all:
I might not look for fruit now ; for if I should have
any great success, it might betray me into self-
confidence, as if it resulted naturally from my im-
proved spiritual condition, and was not, as it needs
must be, the work of God only. So true is it, that
much light does not imply much love, nor much
love much light ; and that in any state we may .ex-
pect temptation. Or, if it should be thought that
these discouragements of mine, first and last, were
only proofs of immaturity, it must be confessed
that riper minds have had their questions too.
How comes it that X. should be distinguished
among his brethren as a revivalist, when perhaps
he exhibits no evidence of greater piety than the
rest, or is even less sanctified than most of them
are ? It may not be on account of his eloquence ;
for he may not be an eloquent man ; and if he is,
eloquence is manifestly incompetent to the work.
But we may perceive that whoever he is, and what-
ever his accomplishments may be, he is sure to aim
}58 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
aimply at his object. " He goes for getting peoj^e
eonverted." And what he ''goes for'* he is apt to
succeed at, because he believes the gospel can
convert them, and will do it. And does it require
much depth of piety to believe this ? Is it won-
derful that even an imperfect believer, in view of the
whole compass of revealed truth, should believe as
much ? But he believes also that it will be done at
the time present. And why not at the present time,
if at ^11 ? " One day is with the Lord as a thousand
years, and a thousand years as one day.'* But so
before the dispensation of the Spirit had been fully
given, or Jesus glorified, when he taught his disci-
ples (Luke xvii. 3) that they must forgive all tres-
passes, and to any number of times, they exclaimed,
''Lord, increase our faith!'* as if they might not
have faith enough for that ; though when he had
sent them to "heal the sick, cleanse the lepers,
raise the dead, and cast out devils,** they made no
difficulty about it, but went straight to do as they had
been bid, and did it. Have what else we may, or
may not have, we must have faith that we may do
any thing in the name of Christ; and faith with
respect to that very thing which is proposed to be
done, that he will do it, and at that very time. Nor
would I say that good cannot be done by means of
a preacher who has not faith, when on the part
of the hearer there exist right dispositions, and he
is shut up to the necessity of hearing him or none.
I could not say so, but I could say that it is not
God's method to carry on his work by such men.
AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 159
The old Jews might find it profitable to attend the
teaching of the Scribes who sat in Moses* seat;
the goodness of the truths taught countervailing
the unworthiness of the persons teaching; but
God's purpose was to have better men to teach bis
word. The exception is not the rule. Nor, indeed,
18 this the question, which looks not to a possibility
of profit to well-disposed minds waiting to be fed
by the word, but to those who may not be so well-
disposed, and with respect to whom the gospel is
to operate in its aggressive character. It is a ques-
tion as to how a preacher should preach so as to
turn sinners to God ; and my answer is, that bey
lieving hiniaelf to be called to that work, he should
believe that God will work by him, and worn now.
and preach as if he believed it.
I was not permitted to continue to the ei^^d of
the year in this pleasant circuit, but was called to
the bedside of my father in the month of Septem-
ber, to whom afterwards my duty became due till
his death. This event, which filled me with ex-
treme sorrow, was quickly followed by a sore trial.
I had entered into an engagement of marriage,
with a purpose of locating at the approaching Con-
ference, and the time subsequently fixed for the
nuptials was the 13th of January ensuing. But
t^he reasons for my locating had been entirely re-
moved by my father's death, so that I could not do
so and be clear in my conscience. Might I, then,
locate on the ground of having formed that en-
gagement ? And if not, was there any probability
160 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
of marrying at all? Could I hope that roy
betrothed would marry a travelling preacher, as
the itinerancy was then circumstanced? Locate I
could not. Nothing had been stipulated as to
location, and any allusion to it had been made with
reference to that one only cause, which existed no
longer. But could I, at almost the very period of
marrying my first love, for whom I felt an aftection
as intense and exclusive as nature knows, could I
jeopard all by a new condition, and one, too, so ex-
ceeding hard as the present was ? The interval be-
tween the death of my father and the session of Con-
ference allowed of but a brief visit on my way to the
CpAfefcnce. Conscience had triumphed ; but ter-
rible '^^ the suspense till I might know what that
triumph was to cost me. The cost, however, I
found to be no more than a smile of sweet approval.
Conference was held in Charleston late in the
month of December. At this I was ordained elder,
by Bishop McKendree, in Bethel church, Sunday,
December 26th, 1812, having completed four years
from the time of my admission on trial. My ap-
pointment was fixed for Wilmington, North Carolina.
At the appointed time, (Thursday evening, January
13th, 1813,) I was married to Miss Anna White,
daughter of John White, Esq., (deceased,) of George-
town District ; and on the following Monday we set
out for Wilmington, and reached it on Friday the
21st. We had been there but a week or two when we
had the honor of entertaining Bishop Asbury and
his excellent attendant, brother Boehm, who passed
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 161
a Sabbath in Wilmington. These were our first
guests in our first dwelling-place, the parsonage,
which I might call either a two-story dwelling-
house, or a shanty, according to my humor. It
was a two-story house, actually erected in that
fonn, and no mistake, with its first story eight feet
high, and the second between six and seven ;
quite high enough for a man to stand in it with
his hat off, as men always ought to stand when in
a house. The stories, to be sure, were not exces-
sive as to length and breadth any more than height;
each story constituting a room of some eighteen
feet by twelve or fourteen, and the upper one
having the benefit of a sort of step-ladder on the
outside of the edifice, to render it accessible when
it might not rain too hard, or with an umbrella
when it did rain, if the wind did not blow too hard.
And besides this, there was a room constructed- by
a shed at one side of the main building, which, as
mad^m might not relish going out of doors and up
a step-ladder on her way to bed, especially in rainy
weather, was appropriated to her use as a bed-
chamber. But we were content. A palace might
scarcely have been appreciated by us, who, by the
grace of God, had in ourselves and each, other a
sufficiency for happiness. This house, the church,
(a coarse wooden structure, of some sixty feet by
forty,) the lots they stood on, and several adjoining
lots, rented to free negroes, had belonged to Mr.
Meredith, and had been procured, for the most part,
by means of penny collections among the negroes,
U
162 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
who almost exclusively had composed his congr^
gation. He had beeu a Wesleyan missionary to
the negroes of one of the West India Islands, I
think Jamaica or St. Kit's. And after Mr. Hammett
came over to Charleston, and had got under way in
his enterprise of establishing a pure Wesleyan
Church, in opposition to the Asburyan, as he called
it, he induced Mr. Meredith to come over also and
join him. But he was not long satisfied with Mr.
Hammett, whose influence over him was sufficient
to prevent him from joining the Methodist Episco-
pal Church, but could not retain him among the
"Primitive Methodists," as Mr. Hammett called
his followers. And so, parting with Mr. Hammett,
he came to Wilmington, and began preaching to
the negroes. Here his history was very like that
of the colored man, Henry Evans, at Fayetteville.
He was subjected to all manner of annoyances, and
even injuries, which he bore with unresisting meek-
ness till he had worn his persecutors out. At one
time he was put in jail, and he obliged them to let
him out by preaching through the grates of his
window to whoever might be in the street below.
And when, after several years, things becoming
more quiet, he ventured to build a meeting-house,
it was burned to the ground. At last, however,
Mr. Meredith gained the public confidence, and at
his death willed in fee simple to Bishop Asbury a
second meeting-house built on the site of the first,
the parsonage-house above 4®scribed, and the landft
belonging to them; all which, of course, the
AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 1^
Bishop turned over to the Church ; which, along
with the property, acquired also the congregation
and communicant members.
This case of the labors and persecutions of Mr.
Meredith in Wilmington, like that of Henry Evans
in Fayetteville, illustrates as strikingly as any thing
else might which has occurred in our country, how
sadly the spiritual wants of the negroes had been
overlooked in early times. A numerous popula-
tion of this class in that town and vicinity were as
destitute of any public instruction, (or, probably,
instruction of any kind as to spiritual things,) as
if they had not been believed to be men at all, and
their morals were as depraved as, with such a des-
titution of the gospel among them, might have
been expected ; and yet it seems not to have been
considered that such a state of things might ftir-
nish motives sufficient to induce pure-minded men
to engage, at great inconvenience and even per-
sonal hazard, in the work of reforming them.
Such a work, on the other hand, seems to have
been regarded unnecessary, if not unreasonable.
Conscience was not believed to be concerned in it.
And, unhappily, that fatal action of our General
Conference, by which it had assumed the right of
interfering, at least by memorial and remonstrance
to the Legislatures, with the civil condition of the
negroes, had aroused apprehension for the public
safety. The opposition to Mr. Meredith is not^
therefore, to be wondered at, though deeply to be
regretted ; and the fact that it ceased when the pub-
164 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
lie mind had become satisfied of the harmlessness
of his labors, shows that it did not proceed from
any worse motive than an apprehension of evil.
At the time of my going to Wilmington, Mr.
Meredith's church and people had been transferred
to Mr. Asbury's care, and incorporated with the
Methodist Episcopal Church as a portion of it.
Nevertheless, the oftence of the cross had not
ceased. It seemed to be admitted on all hands
that the Methodists were, on the whole, a good sort
of enthusiasts, and their religion very well suited
to the lower classes, who needed to be kept con-
stantly in terror of hell-fire. For the negroes, in
particular, it was deemed most excellent. For as
it was looked upon as substituting passion for prin-
ciple, and feeling for the law of God, yet so as to
make its passion a religious one, and its feeling a
matter of conscience, and both to be in a ferment
of zeal against all manner of sin, it was thought
exactly to suit those whose passions were the
strongest and their understanding weakest. The
negro church, or meeting-house, was a common
appellative for this Methodist church long after it
had been occupied by whites on the lower floor,
with the negroes in the galleries. And it was so
in my day. But notwithstanding all this, gentle-
men and ladies, of high position in society, were
to be found from Sabbath to Sabbath attending our
preaching. Could it have been that they wanted
to participate in the Methodist religion of passion
without principle ? Or was it that their superior
AtTTOBtOaRAPHT. 16A
sort of religion having taught them to condeecend
to men of low estate, they were only practicing the
principle of humility? However it may have been
with them, the sermons they heard for the whole
year from my pulpit were taken up in stating,
proving, and urging justification by faith, and its
cognate doctrines of original depravity, regenera-
tion, and the witness of the Spirit. These themes
appeared inexhaustible to the preacher, and this
portion of his hearers never grew less for his dwell-
ing on them, though they wondered how such
things could possibly be true. It cost them, how-
ever, some disquietude, of which you may take the
following for a sample: Mrs. G., of the first class
of the upper sort, had become so much interested
in what she had heard, as to seek a conversation
with me under cover of a call on Mrs. Capers ;
and Mrs. W., her sister, deemed it prudent to ac-
company her, for the reason, I suppose, that she
(Mrs. W.) held her understanding to be better than
her sister's, and that she was better established in
the old creed. The conversation, therefore, was
conducted, for the most part, by Mrs. W., who
thought it impossible for me actually to mean that
common people could know their sins forgiven
since the apostles* day. Statement after statement
was made on my part, and passage upon passage
quoted from the Scriptures, while she continued to
reply almost in the very words of Nicodemus,
**How can these things be?" Mrs. G., meanwhile,
was showing pretty unmistakable symptoms of un-
166 LtPfi OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
easiness, as if she apprehended that their unbelief
might not be sufficient to " make the faith of God
without effect," when, as a last resort, Mrs. W.,
turning to Mrs. Capers, said, "Well, Mrs. Capers,
it must be a very high state of grace this which
your husband talks about, and I dare say some very
saintly persons may have experienced it, but as for
us, it must be quite above our reach. I am sure
you do not profess it, do you ?" Mrs. C. blushed
deeply, and replied in a soft but firm tone of voice,
" Yes, ma'am, I experienced it at Rembert's camp-
meeting, year before last, and by the grace of God
I still have the witness of it." And I will add,
that if Mrs. W. felt discomfited, Mrs. G. lost not
the benefit of that interview, but obtained the
same grace, and died not long afterwards in the
peace and comfort which it inspires.
In addition to my work in Wilmington, and
as a part of my pastoral charge, there was a meet-
ing-house on the Sound, across the neck of land
between Cape Fear and the sea, eight miles from
town, which I preached at on Wednesdays. It
was a cabin of pine poles notched into each other,
which that saintly young minister, Richmond Pol-
icy, had built, mostly with his own hands, when
stationed at Wilmington, for the use (if they
would use it) and benefit (if they would be bene-
fited by it) of the lowest and laziest set of white
people that it has been my fortune to fall in with.
They had come from nobody knew where, and
squatted in little huts about the margin of the
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 16t
Sound, (on lands which I suppose no one cared to
pay taxes for, and not an acre of which they meant
to cultivate,) for the benefit of living without
labor, or as nearly so as possible. And their mode
of subsistence was by catching fish, which they
took with a seine once or twice a week, and taking
them to market, purchased, by the sale of them,
bacon, meal, and whisky, or rather, whisky,
meal, and bacon. I generally found them, if I
found them at all, basking in the sun, or lounging
in the shade; and such as I could induce to go
with me to the meeting-house constituted my con-
gregations. I could do nothing for them ; but
though I still eked out the time of serving them, I
did not return them to the Conference as belonging
to our charge.
Such were the extremes of character and con-
dition with which I had to do. Of my flock in
town, while much the greater number were negroes,
the whites were very poor, or barely able to sup-
port themselves with decency. Here, too, none of
the wise men after the flesh, nor mighty, nor noble
were called. Indeed, of the men of this class, I
know not that there was one, and believe that if
one, there was but one, who belonged to any Church
at all as a communicant. They were, very gene-
rally at least, too much tinctured with the French
deistical philosophy for that. Of churches in the
town, claiming for mine to be one, there was but
one other, the Protestant Episcopal Church, of
which the Rev. Adam Empie was rector. Com-
168 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
paring numbers between the churches as to white
members communing in each. I had the advantage
of Mr. (since Dr.) Empie; having some ten or a
dozen males to his doubtful onej while the females
may have been about equally divided as to num-
bers ; giving him, however, and his Church, the
prestige of worldly wealth and honor. For support,
as far as any was to be had, I was dependent mainly
on my colored charge, whose class collections,
added to the collection which was made in the
congregation weekly, may have produced six or
seven dollars a week for all purposes. I had not
expected such a deficiency, and was not provided
against it; and before I could command means
from .home, my very last penny was expended.
What small things may prove important to us, and
incidents of little moment in themselves, interest
us deeply by their connections. Here was one.
It happened that I had carried to market and ex-
pended for a fish, (because it was the cheapest
food,) the la6t penny I possessed. And this was
on the morning of the day when I should expect
the Presiding Elder on his first quarterly round ;
and that Presiding Elder was Daniel Asbury, who
had sustained the same relation to me during my
first two years, and was beloved and honored next
to brother Gassaway. And there was no place for
him but the parsonage ; or if there was for himself,
there was not for his horse. In such circumstances
nothing might seem easier than to meet the emer-
gency by borrowing. But should I go to a bank
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 169
to borrow so little as a dollar or two ? And of my
flock I feared to ask a loan of so much^ lest it
should be more than my brother could spare, and
for the pain it should give him should he not be
able to oblige me in so small a matter and so great
a need ; and as the least of the evils before me, I
concluded to await my friend's coming, and borrow
from himself what might be needed during his
stay. He came in time for a share of the fish at
dinner, but before it had been produced paid me
two hundred dollars which had been sent, very
unexpectedly, by him for my use. If it had been
but two dollars, I cannot tell the value I should
have put upon it ; but to receive two hundred dol-
lars just at that juncture, mad« me rich indeed.
In the month of June T suffered an extreme
illness of bilious fever, insomuch that my life was
well-nigh despaired of; and as soon as I could get
into a carriage and ride to the wharf, my physician
sent me to Smithville to facilitate convalescence.
You will remember that this was during the war
with Great Britain ; and a few days after we had
arrived at Smithville, the news was brought of
the enemy having landed at Ocraeock and per-
petrated many outrages. The facts truly stated
were bad enough to excite alarm, as we had rea-
son to expect that Wilmington would be the next
point of attack ; or Smithville rather, on the way
to Wilmington; but as the story was told with
great exaggerations, nothing might be more terri-
fying than this intelligence was. We therefore
8
/
/
t'
170 LIFE OP WILLIAMCAPERS.
took the first packet for our return to Wilmington^
intending to place Mrs. Oapers for safety with our
friends, Francis A. AUston and sisters, on Town
creek, ten miles off from Wilmington, and nearly
as far from the Cape Fear river. Having done
this, my purpose was to return immediately to
Wilmington, to meet with my people whatever
might come. No time was lost in the execution of
my plan as far as respected Mrs. Gapers ; but the
weather was wet, and the night of our arrival at
brother AUston's, the next day, and following
night, gave us such a flood of rain as had not been
known for several years. On the second day I set
out for Wilmington, and getting to the South
Ferry, learned that the freshet had carried away so
much of the causeway between that place and
town, that a horse could not be got over it, and
the only practicable way of going would be on
foot. The distance to the Worth Ferry (at town)
was two miles, all under water, and much of it
knee-deep, or more, besides the liability of falling
between the loosened or removed puncheons, and
getting wet all over. The day was hot, and it was
noon, with the sun beaming forth without a cloud ;
nor was there tree or shrub for shade. I sent my
horse back, and undertook it. A fever came on
before I had gone far, and I suffered a burning
thirst. To drink the water of the swamp I was
afraid ; but, luckily for me, my kind friends had
given me a bottle of a strong decoction of cherry
bark, dogwood, and hoarhound, for me to take
AtrTOBIOaRAPHT. 171
by the wineglassful as a tonic; and bitter as it
was I drank it up, applying the bottle to my
lips, of very thirst. I got to the house of sister
Howe, in Wilmington, and to bed ; sweated off
my fever, and had no more of it. The British
never came.
Can you now have patience for another witch
story ? There were two old negro women belong-
ing to the Church in Wilmington, (Clarinda and
Lucy,) who had been held in high esteem from the
beginning ; and, indeed, except for this witchcraft
affair, deserved the reputation of being as good
as the best of our colored members. But Cla-
rinda fell under a persuasion that Lucy was a
witch, and had such proofs of it as poor old Lucy
could not disprove. The question between them
was of long standing, as to the general charge,
and the specifications numerous: of which, such
as had transpired more than a year before had
been adjudicated by my predecessor; who gave
sentence that there was no such thing as witch or
witchcraft, and that Clarinda must renounce her
superstition, and become reconciled to her sister,
or be excluded the Church. But this -summary
process did not answer. The old sore ^'remained
unhealed, and soon broke out afresh ; so that Lucy
still lay under the imputation of being a witch.
Clarinda charged against her, that on the day of
trial, there in presence of the preacher, Lucy had
abused her triumph by bewitching her. And the
specification was, that when, doing as she had been
172 LIFE OB* WltititAM OAPERS.
required to do, she (Clarinda) gave her hand to
Lucy, she, (Lucy,) by the power of her art, which
no Christian could exercise, caused the hand which
she held in hers to itch and burn unnaturally;
and caused this itching and burning to extend to
all her limbs, and break out in frightful sores, the
scars of which she still carried. All which, Lucy,
of course, denied stoutly. And now what was the
preacher to do with such a case ? To reaffirm with
my predecessor that the charge was absurd, could
be of no avail, for Clarinda*s protest of " What I
feel I feel, for all my preacher say there a*n*t no
witch,** deserved some consideration. It was con-
ceded that if Lucy had bewitched Clarinda, she
must of consequence be a witch ; and that if she
was a witch she could not be a Christian. All
that was plains But I instituted a new question,
which was, whether if Clarinda was indeed a
Christian, and no mistake, it might be possible
for her to be witched by Lucy, or any one else who
should attempt it? Would Clarinda consent for
the Bible to answer this question ? Of course she
would ; she might not desire any thing else. And
I read from the Bible as its answer, Numbers
xxxiii. 23, *^ Surely there is no enchantment against
Jacob, neither is there any divination against
Israel.'* This was a point in the case that altered
the case, and turned the force of the protest,
("what I feel I feel,**) as strongly against Clarinda
as against Lucy. And now, from one and the
other, I required to know particularly on what
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 173
grounds their profession of belonging to Jacob
rested. Eacli told her experience at length, while
E listened with close attention. " Can you both be
deceived?*' said I, "for if one is, the other may be."
And turning to the complainant, I asked with em-
phasis, " Clarinda, are you right sure that you are
a Christian ?" She was deeply troubled, but an-
swered in the affirmative. " How then," I rejoined,
"was it possible for Lucy to witch you?" She
seemed utterly confounded ; and I relieved her by
reading Job ii. 1-8, and by remarking briefly on
it, to the effect, that what witches could not do,
Satan might, and he might possibly have had power
to afflict her as she had been afflicted ; and may
have done it at the very time specified, for the pur-
pose of producing the mischief which had come of
it. The spell was now broken. They embraced
each other, and remained for the rest of their lives
in peace together. It is better to condescend to
the weakness of others, than attempt their correc-
tion by main strength. Nor is it an act of great
condescension to suffer a weakness, where there is
evident goodness in the weak brother.
I had great satisfaction in my labors among this
class of my people. The Church planted among
them by Mr. Meredith in troublous times had been
well disciplined, and furnished our leaders and
principal members at present, who exerted a salu-
tary influence on the younger, both by their good
example in all things, and their zealous exhorta-
tions. The preacher thej^ regarded as their best
174 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBRS.
friend, whose counsel they should follow as from
God. Trials were rare; and there was a constant
increase of numbers. And I say in sincerity, that
I believe I have never served a more Christian-
hearted people, unless those were so with whom I
was associated at the same time among the whites.
Among these, (the whites,) I have no recollection
of a single trial, nor cause for one, during the year.
And whilst offences were avoided, our seasons of
Christian fellowship, in the prayer-meetings, the
class-meetings, the love-feast, were appreciated as
they should be by the whole society, and were very
refreshing. Of the people of the community I re-
ceived nothing worse than marks of respect. De-
traction had lost it« tongue. The negro meeting-
house was become the Methodist church, and the
stories about what the Methodists believed, and how
they managed their secret meetings, seemed to be
forgotten. But what was more interesting to me,
my earnest reasonings from Scripture began to be
followed with fruit among the upper circle, of whom
several were fuUv convinced of the truth, and were
seeking to be justified by faith without the works
of the law. The way was thus prepared for my
successor, (the Rev. Samuel K. Hodges,) who reaped
more than a golden harvest.
I have to conclude this Conference year (for the
calendar year was out) with one of those adventures
which I have never looked back upon without a
shudder. I will relate it in the barest statement
of the faetSjt and if they make m^ to have been a
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. |.7{»
fool or madman, very well ; I can only say I was
young, and none of the older persons who were
cognizant of the facts said nay, at the time. Con-
ference this year came late, heing held in January
instead of December, the usual Conference month.
The place of its session was FayetteviUe, eighty
miles above "Wilmington. I could not attend it,
because of Mrs. Capers expecting to be confined at
that very time. But the time was come ; the Con-
ference session was over; and in three days more
Bishop Asbury and one or two others would be
with us in that shanty parsonage, to pass several
days on the Bishop's annual visitation. Besides,
there would probably come with the Bishop the
preacher of the opening year, whose would then be
the right of occupancy. We must leave the par-
sonage. To add to my perplexity, all the ready
money at my command had been reduced to a mere
trifle, absolutely insufficient to pay board anywhere
for the time before us ; not to mention a particular
fee of twenty dollars ; and my father's estate having
gone into the hands of an indiflferent person for its
management, nothing could be commanded from
that quarter ; and to cap it all, there was not one
of our friends belonging to the Church in Wilming-
ton who could bear the burden of accommodating
us. In this condition of things, as we were sitting
at breakfast, more gay than sad under it all, having
our good friend, sister Barrett, with us, (since better
known in Wilmington as both a person of great
worth and usefulness,) I bantered her to carry Amx^
176 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APEB8.
home to her mother. " That I will," she answered,
"if you will go with us." The jest was carried on
between as by fixing stages on the road at conve-
nient distances, where, at the worst, it would be as
well for Mrs. Capers as at the parsonage, till we
talked ourselves into a serious meaning of what we
said. Arrangements were instantly made, and that
night we were at the house of our friends Allston,
ten miles from Wilmington. The house of our
friends, Mr. and Mrs. William Gause, on Shallot,
thirty miles farther on, over a smooth road, was to
be the next stage, if we made another. At either
of these places we should be in clover, and might
be sure of a hearty welcome for any length of time.
At brother Allston's, (Mrs. Capers appearing ex-
ceeding well in the morning and inclined to it,) we
concluded to set out for brother Gause's ; reached
there about 5 o'clock ; and at 10,1 was a father.
It was on the 18th January, 1814 ; and the child
then born under circumstances so peculiarly trying
and specially providential, has, thus far, been par-
ticularly favored through life, having enjoyed almost
entire exemption from disease, and given birth to
nine children, of whom eight are living at this date,
(1851.) I happen to pen this in an apartment of
the Wesleyan Female College, at Macon, Georgia,
of which her husband has been president for the
last ten years.
My appointment for 1814 was Santee Circuit;
and after Mrs. Capers had perfectly recovered, and
it was safe beyond doubt for her to take the road
"'"•» '»••• Moi "
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 177
again, we took leave of our most kind friends at
Shallot, and went to her mother's ; where leaving
her till I should have made a round on my circuit,
I went to my w^ork. You will remember that this
was the circuit in which our family lived. My
honored father was no more. My brother-in-law,
Maj. Legrand Guerry, and my uncle, Capt. George
S. Capers, and my aunt his wife, had also passed to
their heavenly rest. My uncle was the first, having
died in 1809; my brother-in-law followed in 1811;
my father in 1812 ; and my aunt in 1813. And
what a vacuum was here! But meanwhile my
brother Gabriel (who had married the daughter of
the Rev. Thomas Humphries, my old friend of Jef-
fers' creek, in Darlington District) was settled atLo-
debar, in the neighborhood of my sister ; who had
now married a second husband, the Rev. Thomas D.
Glenn ; and our venerable friend, the Rev. Thomas
Humphries, had been induced to remove his resi-
dence into the same neighborhood also. There
was, therefore, still a great, interest for us in that
neighborhood ; and it was arranged for Mrs.
Capers to divide her time with my brother and
sister, during our continuance in the circuit. Cir-
cumstanced as I was, there was no other appoint-
ment in the Conference so convenient as this, and
no other so desirable ; but of my work I have no
more to say, than that, from the tinie of getting to
it, the appointments were regularly filled without
exception through the year, the attendance on
preaching and at class was good, and we had an-
12
178 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
other good camp-meeting at the old place, Rem-
bert's. Good was done, perhaps much good, but
every thing went on so uniformly as to furnish
nothing for a recollection at the present date. Ne-
vertheless, it was an eventful year to me — perhaps
no other one more so. It was my second year of
married life in the Methodist itinerancy. The ex-
periment of such a mode of life seemed fully made,
by the last year spent as a stationed preacher, occu-
pying one of the three parsonage-houses belonging
to the Conference ; and now this year which I was
spending on a circuit, the circuit at home, with my
wife and child staying alternately with my brother
and sister. At least, there was no other more favor-
able experiment that might have been made for
these two years, and no other practicable for the
future. And what was I to make of it ? In Wil-
mington, with my wife alone, it had cost me three
hundred dollars to procure subsistence of the most
frugal kind ; a sum of between one hundred and
fifty and two hundred dollars having been all that
the collections could furnish for all purposes above
what was necessary for keeping the church open
and in order. In the circuit, (any circuit,) I might
receive eighty dollars for myself, eighty dollars for
my wife, my travelling expenses, (which were then
understood to take in little more than the cost of
horse-shoeing and ferriage,) and no more. It had
been ascertained that my father's removal, and
change of his planting interest from rice to cotton,
just before the embargo and war, had seriously in-
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 179
volved his estate, which might be barely sufficient
for his widow and three little sons by her; and we,
of the first marriage, must be content with sharing
among us a legacy from our grandfather Singel-
tary, for our patrimony, except only, on my part, a
small farm which my father had given me in anti-
cipation of my marriage.
I was not avaricious. I hope I never have been.
For myself, any thing might answer, if I was not,
even emulous of excelling in ascetic virtue. But
there were two things which I could not brook :
the exposure of my wife to hardships, was one ;
and to be made dependent on individuals who
might regard me burdensome, was the other. And
while for the present year we were not involved in
either of these evils, but were as happily situated
as we could desire with those who loved us as them-
selves, it was plain that there was no next appoint-
ment for us which might not involve us in them.
The general policy of the Church, sustained by the
opinion of a majority of the preachers and people,
was against the preachers' marrying, and therefore
against any provision for the support of preachers*
families which might encourage their marrying.
For a preacher to take a family about from circuit
to circuit was out of the question, except he should
board them at his own expense, or place them (as
for the present year I had done) with particular
friends living in the circuit. No circuit would
make any provision for them, and the Discipliut/
required none to be made. The few who had wivee
180 LIFE OF' IriliLlAM d AIDERS.
had botees iot thetn, stnd I too must have a hotae
for ray wife, of necessity. But there appeared no
way for me to procure such a home without locat-
ing. My farm was unsettled, and to settle it tiiust
require tny presence. And besides that, it would
require money ; which I had not, and which I might
not obtain by the sale of property, for the reason
that I had none which I might sell without dimin-
ishing a barely sufficient force for farming at all.
It must be borrowed ; and then it would require
my personal exertions* to pay it back again^ With
these views, I applied for a location, and was located
at the Conference in Charleston, December, 1814,
after having travelled but six years.
Thus I became involved in the cares of this life.
My ^hole plan was, immediately to go to work to
settle my farm in an humble but comfortable man^
ner, and make a crop of provisions ; and as soon
as I should get ready, take into my family a few
boys, (not more than eight or ten,) to be educated
at a certain price. And as I apprehend it may be
thought that I was, at least in part, influenced by
my wife to this great change of employmefit, to
whom, it may naturally be supposed, the itinerancy
was not so pleasant as a settled mode of life might
be, I will take occasion to say at once that it was
not so. 'So^ if I had been advised by her, I had
never left the work to which we both believed I
had been called. She doubted, she hesitated, she
objected to it from the first moment that I intro-
duced the subject to her. Nevet did she utter a
AUTOBIOGEAPHf. 19$,
word nor make a sign in favoF of it^ but ag^iusl: it ;
i^nd at last sjbie yielded witb extreme relupt^^n^e,
saying, " If you are clear in your mind^ you must;
do it, but I fear you will do it too rjfiucb on my
account.** Angelic woman! Had she known it
was the hearse to bear her to an early grave, gnd
h^d I known it, the sides of the pontroversy had
been changed. It was as she suspected. There
were indeed strong reasons for my course, as we
h^v^ seen, but there was a stronger one underlying
them all, which I woul,d fain have hid even from
myself, and that was the pain of being absent from
her. What a deception was this ! And yet whai
honesty might be so severe as to be proof .agaijqist
it? Had the temptation been pj:eaente<i m some
other form, had it concerned somebody elsre, so]a^
other interest than the pulse of life, it had jne-
sulted dijSerently, I think. Why might I not have
anticipated the change which even then wjus ready
to be begun in the economy of the Church ? Why
w^ I not wise enough to know, not only that such
H change was wanted, but that, on the principle of
our progresiS, it was indispensable, and must v#ry
soon take place ? Why not have seen that I was
called to sustain my part in this necessary ch^^ngje
of policy in the Church ? But there was something
that kept me from seeing, and I was blind.
Having located, I applied myself moat assiduosfcsly
tQ the work beforie me. I had fields enclosed, biaj
W hwae* eiscept ^ em^ kitchep, g, »ea*^haj^e, A
182 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
barn, and a stable, which had been put up for me by
my father. First to build a house of four small rooms
and a piazza, and prepare the grounds for planting,
was my object. Oats came first for the field-work,
(four or five acres,) then corn, (some twenty-five or
thirty acres,) then potatoes, (an acre or two,) and last,
a patch of rice. Two good horses were suflicient.
I bought a cow, and when the grass sprang, another;
at first two sows, and afterwards others. The
house ready for occupancy, I became too much in-
terested in the field to be only a manager, and
betook myself to the plough ; which having done,
T must prosecute it diligently for example's sake.
The manner of the farm was, to take the horses to
the plough before sunrise, and work till the cook's
horn called us to breakfast; then prayers and
breakfast, having the horses meanwhile in the
stable, where there was always food for them ; then
to the plough again till the same horn called us to
dinner; then, after the hour at dinner for man and
horse, to the plough till after sunset. I had never
done an hour's work in a field in my life when I
began to do this ; and was there ever a severer ex-
ercise for one who never held a plough before ? At
first, I ploughed all day, and at night had fever ;
then I ploughed all day, and had no fever; and
after some few weeks, I had rather plough than not ;
so that I have never been able to pity a ploughman
since. Every thing kept in good condition about
me, and in the fall of the year there were provisions
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 188
enough made for the year ensuing, and pigs and
poultry a plenty, in view of the expected large fam-
ily I was to have.
I preached every Sabbath, and heard of no fault-
finding, though I was conscious in myself that
there may have been cause for it. On the principle
of the adage, that where you lend your ear you
give your mind, I had become too much engrossed
with secular things through the week to be very
spiritual on Sunday. And I was conscious, too,
that whereas I had located to meet a necessity, only
cill that necessity should have been ihet, feeling
that spiritual and not temporal things constituted
my vocation, and that the latter should be subor-
dinate to the former, I was losing by imperceptible
degrees my former clearness of perception of the
paramount obligation of a minister to his ministry,
and the quickness of feeling proper to it, just in
proportion as I felt the cares of husbandry and
had my thoughts taken up with temporal concerns.
Temporal things were stealthily gaining in im-
portance, if things spiritual were not declining;
and the duties of husband and father for this life
were getting to be considered too much apart from
their indispensable connection with the life to
come, and God's blessing for both worlds. Thus
it was with me when, on the 30th of December,
1815, at 6 o'clock P. M., my first son was born, and
at 10 o'clock the idol of my heart expired ! That
morning I had seen her the perfection of beauty,
the loveliest of her sex ; and contemplated her as
184 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAP^ES.
the first of women, the pride and joy of my life.
And now, at night, something had gone wrong, I
knew not what, ai^d before there might have been
time for alarm, she was no more. I cannot dwell
upon it, but I owe her something who was my wife,
whose surpassing beauty stood not in her husband's
eye, but was acknowledged by all her acquaintances ;
whose whole life had been passed without a reproof
from father, mother, or friend ; whose nature was
gentleness and love to a degree not to be exceeded ;
whose naodesty was so perfect as never to bear, even
from myself in private, a word expressing admira-
tion of her personal beauty, without a blush to
crimson her cheek ; whose faith in Christ was sim-
ple, sincere, and consistent ; whose piety kept her
in the love of God continually, so as always to
enjoy the hope of the gospel and the reason of it ;
and who, with all her loveliness, was mine, as
completely as the purest and strongest affection
could make her so. Nor was she only to be ad-
mired and loved for her beauty and her sweetness :
gentle as she was, she had a noble courage, which
1 several times saw proved : as when we were at
Smithville, and the British were expected, at Wil-
mington, with those desperate chances of the road
before us ; and even here in our out-of-the-way re-
tirement. Nor was she one of those charming
ones who seem to think themselves too charming to
h^ useful. No one required less on her own account
than my sainted Anna, while few might boast of a
readier mind or more efficient will for the service of
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ISA
her friends. And whatever she did she did well : her
spirit was active, taking hold on every thing about
her to purpose, and managing well all her house-
hold affairs.
Bishop Asbury and Bishop McKendree had both
been expected to attend the Conference at Charlea-
ton in December, 1815; but the latter only was
enabled to attend it; Bishop Asbury, sinking un-
der his infirmities, and almost at his end, having
been obliged to lie by on the road. He was now
(January, 1816) aiming for Baltimore, with but
little hope of eking out life till the session of thje
General Conference in that city; and as he passed
through Rembert's neighborhood I saw him, and,
with a bleeding heart, asked him for a circuit. A
circuit, any circuit, would now have been a boon.
^*I am a dying man,'* replied the Bishop, "or I
would give you one. I shall never see another
Conference in Carolina. Ton had better wait for
your Qugrrterly Conference to recommend you to a
Presiding Elder.'* It was a sore disappointment,
but there was no alternative.
During the year 1814, my brother John had pur-
chased th« place of my father's last residence, (ad-
joining which was the farm I have been speaking
of,) and was living at it. This circumstance had
contributed no little to our satisfaction during the
year which had now closed with death and dark-
ness ; and, in view of my instantly returning to the
itinerancy, it offered a relief for some perplexity J
felt as to the best and kindest disposition iu mf
186 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
power to make of the few negroes I had been farm-
ing with. And it was concluded between us that,
as the whole concern put under the management
of a hired overseer was not sufficient to insure any
considerable income, and might be abused, I would
leave the negroes to themselves, with stock and
provisions sufficient for their use, and that he would
visit them often enough to give advice on any mat-
ter of interest to them. This arrangement was
made in the month of January. They had corn
enough for all purposes, and more than I had con-
sumed the year before, two good milch cows, my
best farm-horse and all utensils for the field, as
much bacon as weighed two hundred and fifty
pounds to each of the adults and half as much to
each child, and several sows with young pigs, be-
side a number of shoats. I was sure that with the
same provisions, properly husbanded, twice the
number of persons might be fully fed. They
planted twenty acres of corn and ten or eleven of
cotton. Of the cotton, never a pod was picked,
for the reaaon that none was produced. Of the
corn, they gathered in October about half as much
as I had left them in January. The cows and
calves were dead, so were the sows and shoats and
pigs, except some seven or eight left from the spring
litters, which were barely l.ving. So that I esti-
mated my loss by the experiment of the year, at
about as much as it had cost me the year before to
get the place settled. I never saw them till in
October I went to see what they had produced.
AtJTOBIOGRAPHY. 187
But before this result was known, or had been
anticipated, I found myself embarrassed from an-
other quarter. The surplus produce sold in Jan-
uary, including some stock, left me still owing
several hundred dollars. This my brother John
proffered kindly to assume the payment of; but
for some cause, I know not what, my creditors de-
clined it, and insisted on retaining my notes. It
seemed a little curious, that the same principle
of abiding contracts, which had kept me to my
circuit rounds under the temptations of 1809,
should now forbid my going to a circuit in 1816.
But so it was. I had to be just in the first place,
and pay my debts, lest my good should be evil
spoken of, and my zeal for religion be made an
occasion, by any one, of reproaching it. During
some six weeks that I was in Georgetown as a
supply for the stationed preacher, who had gone
to the General Conference at Baltimore, I re-
ceived dun upon dun ; evidently from an appre-
hension that I had gone to a business in which
nothing could be made for the payment of debts.
I might have mentioned in my notices of the
last year, (1816,) that although my plans were laid
with a view only to the year ensuing as regarded
teaching, I was induced to take charge of the
two eldest sons of my friend, William Johnson,
Esq., of Santee, who continued with us from early
in July till the Christmas holidays. The sad cause
which prevented others from coming at the present
date, (January, 1816,) had also prevented the re-
188 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAFEftd.
pam o£ those, as it was understood that the 46ath
x4 my wife had broken up my plans. But while I
was in Georgetown this spring, as above stated, I
was solicited by a brother-in-law of Mr, Johnson,
Robert F. Withers, Esq., (who then passed his
summ=er8 in the neighborhood of Statesburg,) to
pass tke summer with him and teach bis children,
for which I should receive a liberal salary ; for
SfO I considered a hundred dollars a month to be,
with board and keeping my horse, and liberty to
visit my children at will.
But before I go to Mr. Withers, let me return
to Mr. Johnson. As soon as he had heard that I
was in Georgetown, he sent a letter of condolence
with a request for me to visit him, and let him
know when it might be eonvenient for me to come,
that he might send for me. I was received with
tears by all the family, and my dear boys Andrew
and Pinckney wept as if they had lost a mother.
In the morning Mr. Johnson proposed a walk, and
opened in the most delicate manner possible the
object of it as soon as we were alone together. He
thought I must have incurred expenses in the last
year looking to the income of the present, which
might be inconvenient to me. He had a consider-
able sum of money in the hands of his factor which
he did not need for any present use ; and he would
be the obliged person if I would allow him to ad-
vance me any sum. He spoke of Mrs. Capers, her
aiEeotionate kindness to his sons, their love for her^
#ke mournful interest which the &mily felt for m«,
AtTTOBIOeilAPHT. 1819
and mentioned a tbonsand dollars as the least be
tbotjght I might require on account of the last
year, and which he was to be the obliged persoft
by advancing. I consented to three hundred.
And I will ofily add that when, a year or more after-
wards, I was ready to repay it, he begged to be
eiccused, assuring me that he had accepted a note
only to relieve my feelings at the time, but had torn
the name off before putting it in his desk, and was
still very sorry that I had not consented to accept
a thousand dollars instead of three hundred. Not
a dollar would he have ; and it was plain that I
had not thought well enough of mankind to sup-
pose there might be a William Johnson among my
acquaintances.
In June I entered on the duties of ray engage-
ment with Mr. Withers, on the Hills, near States-
burg. His seat was about ten miles from my
sister's, where were my two infant children, Anna
and Theodotus. My most kind and faithful sister
had been with us several days at the time of the
death of my beloved wife, and had taken the child-
ren home with her as their foster-mother ; and well
did she fulfil a mother's part by them. Here with
my sister and children I usually passed two days in
seven ; the rest of my time being devoted to the
instruction of the Misses Withers, Sarah, Anslie,
and Charlotte, fourteen, twelve, and ten years old ;
and lovely pupils were they.
If I had been as oonsidefrate of public prejudice
{(ontf perhaps, opinion) as I might have been at the
190 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
age of twenty-six, I should not have to state that
at* the expiration of the term of my engagement
with Mr. Withers, I was married to Miss Susan
McGill, my present wife. This was on the 31st of
October. I believe, indeed, that I have always
had a right appreciation of the duty one owes
to public sentiment ; and if the early date of my
second marriage be not an exception, I have been
scrupulously observant of it all through life. What
is called popularity is another thing. Since I was
converted, I have classed that with its fellows of
'*the abominations of the Egyptians;'* and my
observations on men, both of the Church and the
State, have gone strongly to the conclusion that it
is an "abomination of desolation,** and that
whether it may be called Roman or Egyptian, it
cannot consist with Christian principle. The man
who would make himself popular, stoops and
crouches to just that degree. He puts himself in
a posture for any thing, and to go in any direction ;
a chameleon of any color, a fawning spaniel or a
barking cur, just as may suit the time. He may
be a feather in the wind, or a tennis-ball tossed
by a child* s hand ; but he has lost the form of a
man when he has made popularity his principle.
Not so as to the respect of the individual for public
sentiment; that is, the common judgment of
society as to the proprieties of life and conduct
Popularity works against society ; this feeling oi
respect for public sentiment works for it. Thii
proceeds from a feeling of the responsibility pro
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 191
per for the individual towards the community:
that affects to honor the community for individual
advantage, and exalts self-interest above the gen-
eral good. The one is a generous virtue, and the
other just the opposite. If the opinion were true
which I have heard expressed, that a second wife
is a supplanter, and in contracting a second mar-
riage one forgets the former wife, or loses his
affection for her, transferring it to the supplanter ;
or if only that to marry a second wife implies such
an interference with the affections as is incon-
sistent with the most tenderly cherished love and
affection for the dead, I could never have been
married a second time, nor could ten years have
prepared me for the unnatural revulsion. I did
not believe so, nor did I feel so. It was alike
natural and sincere for me to weep for the dead or
solicit a living wife ; and the woman should have
had not my affection but abhorrence who should
have come to my arms as a supplanter. Anna was
enshrined in my heart never to be dispossessed ; and
the wife I solicited was not to dispute her title to
her burying-place. And yet, I repeat, I solicited
the hand of Miss McGill as sincerely as I had done
that of Miss White ; and I loved to talk of my dear
Anna to her. I loved to tell her how she must
have loved to know her, as her own soul's sister;
as I have since told her how I shall love to intro-
duce them when we meet together in heaven.
Nature's secrets are not to be disclosed in words ;
but so simple was my heart, so sincere my con-
192 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
duct, that one of my first cares after my second
marriage was to introduce Mrs. Capers to my
mother, (Anna's mother,) as her daughter. I knew
she could never doubt my love for the deceased,
and she herself had been married a second time.
I could not yet be ready for the itinerancy, but
must be occupied for another year at least with tem-
poral things, if only to fetch up the losses of the
blind experiment I had made of having my negroes
to provide for themselves by farming. My loca-
tion was Georgetown, with a rented house at
North Island for the summer; my employment,
teaching a school. And thus commenced the year
1817.
Susan McGill (my present wife) was the daugh-
ter of William and Ann McGill, of Kershaw Dis-
trict, South Carolina. Her father was from Ireland,
and when she was about eight years old, he was
induced to remove to Georgia. The place they
lighted on was exceedingly sickly, and the family
suffered much by sickness, Mr. McGill not less
than the others, and perhaps more. By this
means, and the unfaithfulness of one of those
double-eyed friends, who are never to be trusted,
after a few years he lost pretty much what pro-
perty he had had, and returned to Carolina, where,
at least, he had some friends left. His near neigh-
bor, a Mr. Turley, left him, in his will, a small
farm in a healthy portion of Kershaw District.
Leaving his family for a time in charge of his
j^ldest son, at a farm near Columbia, belonging to
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 198
General Horry, he visited the farm in Kershaw Dis-
trict, and prepared to move his family thither.
During his absence his eldest son, Samuel, obtain-
ed a situation in the upper part of Columbia, called
Cotton Town. His kind and obliging manners
made him many friends: among the ladies was
Mrs. Horry. After the death of her husband, (Gen-
eral Horry,) her attachment to Samuel induced a
request from her to his parents to spend the winter
with her in Georgetown. The friendship of this
excellent lady grew into attachment, and resulted
in his eldest sister, Susan, becoming a member of
her family. Samuel died early after his sister's
marriage, and was a spirited, promising young man.
William, after receiving a thorough training for
business, (at the house of Messrs. McDowell and
Black, in Charleston,) and making something clever
on his own account, removed at a later period to
Alabama, with his mother, (his father being dead,)
several sisters, and a younger brother named James.
I saw him some seven years ago at Tuskaloosa,
where he was at that time a member of the Legis-
lature, and still had the care of his sisters, his
mother being dead. It was at Mrs. Horry's that
I became acquainted with Miss McGill, and at her
house we were married ; for she had become as a
daughter to her benefactress, who had never had
a child of her own ;. and had been so regarded for
several years.
Our friend resided in Columbia for the summer
and fall, and in Georgetown for the winter and
13
194 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
spring, having her estate on Winyaw Bay. And
in anticipation of our going to Georgetown, she
had arranged that we should occupy her house, and
be furnished with provisions from her plantation,
at will. But, except for a few weeks, I availed
myself of neither. The house was too remote
for a school, and it was not to my taste to order
any thing in her absence from her plantation. She
chided me kindly for this, and said she ascribed it
to my not understanding her intentions towards
my wife. It was the only time we had any conver-
sation about property. She had several times hinted
at it before, and I had as often evaded her; but
now she told me plainly, that the instrument which
she had had drawn up after the death of her hus-
band, and when Susan had but just come into her
family, was not to be her will. She had a pre-
judice against making wills, or she would have
made another long before then. The plantation
which I was too delicate to order a bushel of rice
from, was to be mine, and a number of the negroes
mine, except a token of affection for one who had
been long in her family as a daughter, but for
whom ample provision had already been made by
General Horry; and a hundred dollars a year to
an orphan girl till she should be married. There^
however, still lay the repudiated will in the drawer,
which had been so long made, and now so decided-
ly renounced, and which, as little as she may have
thought of it, was to be her will at last. She had
been not many weeks in Georgetown, when she was
AUTOBIOaRAPHY. 195
taken sick. Her physician called it rheumatism,
and told her friends that little was the matter,
more than rheumatism in connection with a cold.
Mrs. Capers visited her every day, and every day
heard the story about rheumatism. I grew uneasy,
and went to see her — doubted her physician's
judgment, and proposed that she should be re-
moved to my house; as if barely for a pleasant
change, but meaning to employ another physician.
She was removed. Another physician was called
immediately, for she was extremely ill. He pro-
nounced the case hopeless, and she died in a few
days. The second physician was Dr. John Wragg,
a nephew of my second mother; and suspecting
something, probably, he asked me at the first
moment we were alone after seeing her, if she had
a will, or wished to alter one ; and on being told
how the matter was, urged me instantly to send for
a lawyer. But it could not be. She had been
trifled with to within two hours of her conscious-
ness in life, and I owed her too much to take up
those two hours at the threshold of eternity with a
lawyer ; and I owed myself too much to allow a
suspicion to attach to me that I had brought her
to my house in a dying condition to filch her pro-
perty. When her situation was made known to
her, the vsdll came first to her mind. But I was
at her bedside for another purpose, and claimed
her thoughts for Christ and his salvation; and
aeveral times afterwards, when scarcely able to
196 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPABS.
articulate, she tried to say something about that
will.
My school was well attended — quite as much so
as I desired it to be. We had the satisfaction of
being in one of the best of communities — George-
town at its best estate, I should think — and of
having the ministry and intimate friendship of that
excellent man, the liev. Samuel K. Hodges. But
there was nothing that contributed more to my en-
joyment than the affectionate attachment which
subsisted between my wife and the family of my
deceased wife, which was so simple, and pure-
hearted, and entire, that a stranger might have
thought she was the very daughter and sister of
them all. In June we repaired to our rented sum-
mer-house on Du Bordieu's Island, which is sepa-
rated by an inlet from North Island, and together
with that island served the planters and principal
inhabitants of Georgetown as a healthy retreat in
summer. My school was continued here for the
benefit of my neighbors, and such others as would
board their children, till late in October, when I
returned to Georgetown, and resumed it there;
and during this period I preached every Sabbath
day "in my own hired house."
And now what was wanting ? Whether at the
island or in town, my school was amply sufficient
for my wants ; my health was good ; I was in a
community of friends, with not a few of those I
most loved about me ; I enjoyed public respect and
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 197
confidence; and yet I was unhappy. During the
time at the island, when surrounded by men of the
world only, and in such near neighborhood with
them as to hear and see continually what the world
afforded for the happiness of its people, it was as
if the mysterious words, "menb, mene, tekel,
UPHARSIN,'' had been written on the wall of every
parlor. I loathed it all, though I loved its victims.
I loathed it, and yet I was haunted with spectres
of apostates who for the world had abjured reli-
gion. Shall ever I be one? And I was afraid,
though I felt that neither of its divinities, "the
lust of the flesh,'* nor "the lust of the eye,*' nor
" the pride of life," was any god with me. I heard
the voice of preaching, but it was my own voice
that I heard ; of prayer, but it was I who prayed.
I heard, perchance, the notes of some song of Zion,
but the singers were my wife and myself alone. I
would contrast my loneliness with the times gone
by, when in the woods which had never known an
axe I felt not to be alone, because I had left a
Christian brother's house and was going to meet a
company at the house of God. The prayer-meet-
ing, the class-meeting, the love-feast, I had none ;
but the world, the world was ever about me, and
turn which way I might it still pursued me. I
thought, nay, I felt, that if I had never been con-
versant with it before, having less knowledge I
might feel less aversion. But it was the <9ame
world which I had been bred in ; and which I had
renounced, because it knew not, and could not
198 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPBBS.
know, the cross of Christ. My return to George-
town was a great, a very great relief. How sweet
was communion with brother Hodges; how plea-
sant the society of brethren ; how grateful the fel-
lowship of the class-meeting; how delightful the
gospel from the lips of another ; how precious the
table of the Lord ! Could I doubt ? Surely I could
not. I had been out of my place, and therefore
could not be at ease. God had not meant forme to
serve tables, but to preach ; nor to keep a school
for so much a quarter, but to feed his flock, his
sheep and his lambs. What would I pass another
summer for, excluded the privileges of the Church
of Christ? What might recompense me for an-
other summer like the past at Du Bordieu's Island?
But there was only one way of escape for me, and
come what might I must take that way. I must
reenter the itinerancy, and I must do so at once.
There, I should not bear my burdens unsustained;
and heavy if they should be, I should have the
consolation, best above all, of knowing that they
were the Lord's, and borne for His sake, and not
of my producing.
Our fourth Quarterly Meeting came on in a few
weeks after my return to Georgetown, and I sur-
prised brother Kennedy, the Presiding Elder, by
applying for a recommendation to be readmitted
into the itinerancy. This done, I went actively lo
work to arrange every thing for it. My school was
closed with the Christmas holidays, and I was
ready to go to my appointment. No time was lost.
AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 199
and in January, 1818, I was again at work as a
travelling preacher. My appointment was Colum-
bia ; where another had been added to the list of
parsonages belonging to the South Carolina Con-
ference, and which was now at my service. It
was a small concern, and poor ; but there was no
reprobating "tekbl** to be seen written on its walls,
and I could sing,
** My soul mounted higher
In a chariot of fire.
And the world, it was under my feet."
Poverty itself had a charm when it stood in an
open renunciation of the world for the Master's
sake. As to the parsonage-house, or its furniture,
or provisions, I was not responsible for them, good
or bad.
My friends in Columbia will excuse the liberty I
take in what I here say of the accommodations
furnished the preacher in 1818, and may even take
a pleasure in contrasting the present with the past
in that respect. They will hardly dream of any re-
flection on them by a statement of facts, any more
than that pattern society of Methodists in Wil-
mington might at the present time by the facts of
the time of my service in that place. The cases
were different, to be sure, for in 1818, in Columbia,
we had some five or six brethren, any one of whom
was worth more than an equivalent of all the property
of all the Methodists of Wilmington in 1818 put
together. And it is also true that these richer
200 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBBS.
brethren were the stewards. I mention it to show
what was the general state of things among us at
that time as regarded the support of the preachers ;
and shall be faithful, without the slightest feeling
of any possible unkindness.
The parsonage-house was of one story, about forty
feet long, eighteen or twenty wide, and consisted
of three rooms, of which one, at the west end of
the house, had the breadth of the house for its
length, by some seventeen feet for its breadth. It
had a fire-place, and a first coat of rough plastering
to make it comfortable in winter. Across the mid-
dle of the house was a passage, communicating
with this principal room on one side, and two small
rooms which took up the remainder of the house
on the other side of it. These two small rooms
also were made comfortable, as the principal one
was, by a first coat of rough plastering, but with-
out any fire-place. There was no shed nor piazza
to the house, and the story was low, so that in
summer it was very hot. There was in one of the
small rooms a bed, a comfortable one, but I think
there was neither bureau nor table, and I have for-
gotten whether there was a* chair appropriated to it,
besides the four belonging to the parlor, or not.
Perhaps, as four chairs were enough for our use at
any one time, it was thought as well to have them
taken from parlor to chamber and back again.
The parlor (as I call the room which was appropri-
ated to all purposes except sleeping) was furnished
with a table, of pine wood, which, for having been
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 201
some time in a school-house, was variously hacked
and marked with deep and broad notches, heads of
men^ and the like, which, however, could not be
seen after we got a cloth to cover them ; a slab, of
a broad piece of pine plank, painted Spanish-brown,
on which were a pitcher, five cups and saucers, and
three tumblers; a well-made bench, for sitting,
nine feet long, of pine also, and three Windsor
chairs. I am not sure whether we found a pair of
andirons in the parlor or not, so that I cannot add
such a convenience to the list with certainty. With
this doubtful addition, the above furnishes an en-
tire list of the furniture. In the yard was a small
shanty of one room for a kitchen, and another still
smaller for a store-room, or meat-house, or I know
not what. We used it, small as it was, for an
omnium gatherum. And I repeat, so far was I
from complaining, that I even exulted in this
poverty. For a man to be inferior to his circum-
stances, I thought, might be a humiliation indeed,
but I could see no reason to be mortified at what
others had imposed on a pure conscience. And I
have a vivid recollection of receiving company and
seating them on that long bench with as perfect
ease of manner as I might have done if they had
called on me at a tent at a camp-meeting, where
nothing better was to be expected. In particular,
I remember to have felt something more than bare
self-possession, when, being waited on by a joint
committee of the two houses of the Legislature,
with a request to preach to that honorable body,
9*
202 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
and perceiving that my bench might hold theii
honors, I invited them to be seated on it, while I
took a chair before that presence, feeling to look as
if I did not lack good-breeding. And I had a
feeling, too, as if not a man of them need be mor-
tified by a seat so humble as was that pine bench.
What was the bench to them ? and what was the
bench to me ? They could occupy it with dignity,
and so might I, either that or my half-backed chair.
The general position of the Methodists as a
denomination was exceedingly humble. They were
the poorer of the people. The preachers had been
raised up from among that people, and, in worldly
respects, were still as they were. Every thing
about the denomination partook somewhat, perhaps
much, of the cast of poverty. The preachers gen-
erally wore very common clothing, mostly of home-
spun, cut in the style of a clown of a century past.
The meeting-houses, even in the towns, were in-
ferior wooden buildings. The aspects of poverty,
if not poverty itself, seemed to be Methodistic, if
not saintly ; and Methodism in rags might be none
the worse, since its homespun was esteemed better
than the broadcloth of other sects. And there had
been an everlasting preaching, too, against preach-
ing for money: that is, against the preachers being
supported by the people. It had been reiterated
from the beginning that we were eighty-dollar
men, (not money-lovers, as some others were sus-
pected of being,) till it got to be considered that
for Methodist preachers to be made comfortable,
ATTTOBIOGRAPHY. 208
would deprive them of their glorying, and tarnish
the lustre of their Methodistic reputation. It was
all nonsense, perfect nonsense, but it was not then
so considered. A strong case it was of the force
of association, appropriating to immaterial and
indifferent circumstances a value wholly inde-
pendent of them, and belonging to a very different
thing, which, by chance, had been found in con-
nection with such circumstances. But who did
not know that it was not the preacher's coat that
made him preach with power, and that furnished
him with strength for the battles of the Lord?
But that power, in that preacher, reflected honor on
his homespun coat, and caused the coat itself to be
admired. Could broadcloth do more? It had
never done as much for the persons concerned, and
they were hearty for the homespun, homespun for
ever. And then, who would experiment a change
when things were well enough ? " Let well enough
alone.'* The preacher was just as he ought to be,
and the preaching just as it ought to be, and why
interfere ? " The best of men were but men at the
best," and who could vouch that to change his cir-
cumstances might not change the man, so as that
the same man in a better coat should not preach a
worse sermon ? And then when such points were
not presented as for an equal discussion of both
sides of the question, but with the full tide and
current of opinion setting one way, what might it
avail for this or that individual, or even this or
that society, to oppose it? Might they not expose
204 LIS>fi 0£' WILLIAM OAPBItd»
themselves to the imputation of being unmethodist-
ical and worldly-minded, lowering the standard of
Methodism to suit their own carnal tastes ?
I remember that not long ago, when the present
Trinity church in Charleston had just been com-
pleted, happening to step into it with two or three
gentlemen of friendly feelings, who were not Meth-
odists, one of them said, as in tones of regret, shaking
his head as he spoke : ''Ah, this does not look like
Methodism. Too fine, too fine ! Give me the old
Cumberland street blue meeting.** And this was
a gentleman of the Protestant Episcopal Church,
and a pretty decided Churchman besides. He
seemed to think that even a High-Churchman
coming to a Methodist meeting might hardly get
the good of it unless he found there low, dusky walls
and seats with open backs, and such like assistances
of a godly worship.
But to return to my brethren of the Board of
Stewards. It could not have been without a strug-
gle that such men as they were, as to worldly posi-
tion and circumstances, had identified themselves
with the Methodists in that community at the time
when they had done so. In doing this, they must
Jiave felt strongly the poverty of the world without
the riches of grace, and the riches of poverty
ennobled by this heavenly bestowment. They had
come into the Church, therefore, to take it as it
was, and not to reform it ; the rich thus consenting,
perhaps rejoicing, to be made low, as the most
desirable form of exaltation. And they, finding
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 205
lihe Church to be pleased with its poverty, as if
that poverty might be indispensable to its spirit-
uality, adopted the prevailing sentiment, and were
content with the poverty for the sake of the spirit-
uality. They had not turned Methodists to spoil
Methodism, but only for a share of its spiritual
power. They were probably in fault, and as far as
they may have been so, I too was to blame, for why
did I not complain ? Or if not, why did I not, of
myself, put away that table and that bench, and
those ungainly chairs? But the whole economy
of 1818 was of a piece with this, so that the entire
cost to the Church of keeping the parsonage that
year was but a fraction over two hundred dollars.
I might explain how it was so, if it were worth the
trouble, but it is not. Of this, however, I am sat-
isfied, that I have since occupied a parsonage in
Columbia, when the table was mahogany, and the
bench belonged to the piazza, and the parlor, and
the dining-room, and two bedrooms were suita-
bly furnished for decency and comfort; and
neither was I more useful, nor did I love the peo-
ple, nor did they love me more, than in that year of
1818. Changes of this sort require time ; and woe
to the man who should be so inconsiderate of the
force of prejudice and the weaknesses of men, as to
attempt them by main strength. He shall find hia
end accomplished, if at all, at a fearful cost.
Methodism was never poverty and rags, nor a
clown's coat and blundering speech, nor an unfur-
206 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APBR8.
nished, half-provisioned house, nor no house at aU|
for the preacher ; but it was the gospel simply be-
lieved, and faithfully followed, and earnestly (even
vehemently) insisted on. It was powerful, not
because it was poor, but because it was the living,
breathing, active, urgent testimony of the gospel
of the Son of God. It apprehended Christ's pre-
sence, and took hold on his authority to perform
its work. Its every utterance was a " Thus saith the
Lord.'' The Bible, the Bible was ever on its lips.
Nothing but the Bible, and just as the Bible holds
it, was its testimony of truth. It was all spiritual,
experimental, practical, not speculative, abstracted,
or metaphysical. When it preached, it was to
testify of "repentance toward God, and faith
toward our Lord Jesus Christ ;'* and to both, and to
every degree of both, for the time then present.
When it exhorted, it was to enforce its preaching,
as it ever saw sinners sporting on the brink of a
precipice, and believers in danger of being seduced
from their safety. And preaching or exhorting, its
inexhaustible argument was, eternity — eternity at
hand — an eternity of heaven or hell for every soul
of man. Its great element was spirituality — a
spirituality not to be reached by a sublimating
mental process, but by a hearty entertaining of the
truths of the gospel as they challenged the con-
science and appealed to the heart for credence in
the name of Christ crucified, whenever and wher-
ever the gospel was preached. And this, together
AtjfoBIOGEAPHT. 207
mth a moral discipline answering to it, I under-
stand to be Methodism still, and God forbid there
should come any other in its name.
We had a prosperous year, on the whole, with
crowded congregations; and ftieetings for "the
fellowship of saints," whether in class or the love-
feast, were well attended. In the latter part of the
year, to relieve myself of the urgency of my brother
Gabriel, I addressed a note to Dr. Maxcy, of the
college, as if to inquire whether any examination
might be requisite in order to my obtaining a
diploma; which he replied to kindly, and at the
Commencement, without any thing further on the
subject, I was made — alias, dubbed — ^A. M.
The Conference at the close of this year was in
Camden, good old Camden, with its Isaac Smith,
and Mathis, and Brown, and Reynolds, and Thorn-
ton, and the rest. Bishop Roberts attended it
alone. The Conference was full, and whether in
its business sessions, or its public ministrations,
was an excellent one. Brother Hodges was then
Presiding Elder of the Ogeechee District, and
called for me to be appointed to Savannah. This
place (now and for years past so favorably known
as one of the most desirable of our stations) was
then regarded the forlorn hope. There was no ap-
pointment in the Conference half so unwelcome to
a Methodist preacher. After several years of in-
effectual effort to plant a Methodist Church on the
soil which had been trod by the feet of the Wesleys,
Bishop Asbury had determined on a great sacrifice
208 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
for it, and sent the lion of his day, James Russell,
who had passed as a blazing torchlight through the
woodland circuits, and was thought to be the man
for Savannah also. But he failed, and Savannah
proved the grave dF his power and success. It was
not a citadel to be taken by storm, and he could
not get a hearing of those who might have esti-
mated his talents, but who were content with hear-
ing of him that he was a wonderful ranter. Rus-
sell, however, got a church built by this sacrifice
of himself, partly by his influence in the country,
and perhaps more by the aid of his Presiding El-
der, the Rev. Lewis Myers. But it got him in debt,
and he engaged himself to assist the United States
Quartermaster by foraging for the troops ; (for it
was during the war with Great Britain.) And thus
he lost all pretension to ministerial influence or use-
fulness in Savannah, became discouraged, engaged
in money speculations, and located. We had, then,
procured a meeting-house, but not a congregation.
Nor had we gained in public respect or confidence.
My good brother, the Rev. Henry Bass, afterwards
labored with his usual faithfulness, and purged the
puny vine of some of its rotten branches, and
grafted others of a better sort into it. And my
impression is that the first hope of success for the
Methodists in Savannah began to dawn in his
labors there. But after him, and for the year (1818)
just closed, we were again unfortunate. The Rev.
Urban Cooper had been sent. He was a young
man of uncommon talents and engaging manners.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 209
and who might have proved eminently useful ; but
he found no accommodations for his family, or
means for their support, and declined filling the
appointment. And yet, under all these adverse
circumstances, by the indomitable perseverance of
brother Myers, the former Presiding Elder, we had
procured a parsonage-house of respectable dimen-
sions, which, if the Bishop would send me, I should
have the use of for the year 1819. But it was
strongly objected to by the Presiding Elder of the
Charleston District, who wished me appointed to
the city, and who was seconded by my friend Ken-
nedy, who thought the appointment to Savannah
might prove an oppressive one. In this state Of
the case, the Bishop decided that if I was free to
go, he would send me to Savannah, but not with-
out my consent. Brother Hodges accordingly
broke the subject to me, but I declined giving an
answer, further than to say, that I was more free to
go anywhere than to interfere in the least degree
with my appointment.
We were appointed to Savannah, and to Savan-
nah we went. No other appointment might have
been more suitable, nor aflforded a finer field of
usefulness, than this. And yet the announcement
of it to me excited feelings of exceeding weakness.
I did not doubt its being providential. I never
found it difficult to believe this of any appointment
at any time. Indeed, it always appeared to me that
if there was any thing in the afiairs of men which
Providence might be believed to be concerned in,
14
210 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
it was the appointment of a preacher to his field
of labor ; involving, as it must, not only his in-
dividual interest, but that of so many others ; and,
whether for himself or the people, interests of the
highest moment. I supposed my appointment to
be of God, and did not doubt it; nor did I cherish
for a moment any feeling contrary to submission,
and an instant steady purpose to obey. But there
was with the persuasion of its being providential,
an apprehension as if the Lord's controversy with
me for having left the work by locating might not
have been ended ; and the appointment to so sickly
a place as Savannah was reported to be, (and as
probably it was before the introduction of their dry
culture system,) seemed to announce that some
calamity was overhanging me. Was I to be de-
prived of another wife ? or was it my only child,
the first-born, and now sole representative of my
deceased Anna ? Or was I to be called to the trial
of losing them both ? If there be any one who
can reason off the force of such temptations, I have
never been that person. I have found how I could
be sustained against them, or supported under
them, so as that till they should be removed I
might neither fiinch nor fly, but I have found no-
thing more than this. I went to Savannah, and
entered on my duties there, and prosecuted my
labors for many months with this apprehension
still painfully present. But it did me no harm, if
it did not rather serve as a buckle to the bond
which held me to my work, adding the inscrip-
AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 211
don of "J am debtoVy' to that of "J.5 much as in
me is.*'
I found things in a much better condition than
E had expected. Of the Savannah or Georgia
people, as distinguished from those who were there
on some business account, we had but few;- and
of these, the city marshal, then a young man and a
young Methodist, was the only individual of any .
influence in society. But there were several very
worthy men and well-established Methodists from
New York, who were invaluable to us as official
members. Indeed, I found myself by no means
on a "forlorn hope" appointment, but, on the con-
trary, with a pretty well organized little church
about me. That most excellent man, Rev. Charles
W. Carpenter, was then there as a local preacher,
and relieved me of any pecuniary responsibility,
by keeping the parsonage-house for us ; we having
ample accommodations in it, excellent fare, and
finding in him and his wife a brother and sister
whom we loved as if they had both been born ours.
He, too, had located in the New York Conference
on a temporal account, and went into business with
his father, (who had been a large merchant in that
city,) and established a branch of the concern in
Savannah. But Charles's ministry and merchandise
proved as incompatible as mine and my farming
had done, and the house failed. The failure was
one of sheer misfortune, and neither father nor son
was ever suspected of the slightest wrong-doing.
But it broke up their business, and Charles taught
school for a few years, and returning to New York,
212 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
reentered the itinerancy in that Conference, where
he has ever since been known as one of the purest
of men and best of ministers. The Church in
Savannah owes him high respect. And there is
another name which deserves its honor and its
gratitude, though not of our denomination ; as in-
deed it desierves of others also who are not of his
denomination ; I mean the Rev. Dr. Henry Kol-
lock, a name which I have ever loved to honor.
Something had transpired with this great man,
some years before, which had involved him with
his presbytery. His congregation grew indignant
at it, and required him to withdraw from the pres-
bytery and identify himself with the Congrega-
tionalists, which was their denomination. Great
excitement followed, and the Presbyterians were
exceedingly offended. Not the Presbyterians of
Savannah, for I believe there were none there, or
if any, they were with Dr. Kollock, but the deno-
mination, at least as far as Charleston. The Doctor
was alone silent for the vindication of himself, while
all Savannah was in a hubbub. It must have been
ill-managed, though I judge not of it There was
offence ; and that is always a noun of multitude,
with at least one active verb for every nominative
understood. I cannot pretend to parse it, but
there was trouble in the Presbyterian camp, and
trouble in Savannah; for Savannah seemed to be-
long to Dr. Kollock, as fully as he belonged to it.
The people of Savannah knew him and loved him
and honored him as they never did any other man.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 218
And no wonder, for he was a man for any people
to be proud of in the first degree. There was one
characteristic of Dr. KoUock, however, both indis-
pensable and inalienable to the man, which I have
thought might have been chargeable with much of
this trouble. Of all men he seemed the last to
know the power of his influence over his people.
He seemed incapable of a thought of it, much less
of such an exertion of it as might have controlled
them. Could he have known and felt his power, he
had not been Dr. Kollock ; and while he was to be
seen only in the light of his own surpassing grace-
fulness pleading for the presbytery against himself,
it was a pouring of oil not on troubled waters which
might be made smooth, but on a raging fire which
should only be made more fierce for the endeavor
to allay it. He might have prevailed for the pres-
bytery, but it was impossible for him to prevail
against himself; and he found himself, as he
thought, reduced to the alternative of choosing be-
tween presbytery and his people.
I had come to Savannah, having heard but one
side of the question ; but I had heard it so fully,
and from persons so reliable, that my mind was
prejudiced against the Doctor as one who had
evaded discipline and kicked against the Church.
A great man I supposed him to be, who had not
proved good enough to bear to be corrected for a
fault, but by force of his greatness had unworthily
maintained himself in the ministry. I presently
hoard of him as a friend, and was silent ; as a good
214 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
man, and answered nothing. I thought that as for
me, I was called to the poor, and so great a man
would hardly be found standing in my way. He
called to see me; and I saw, I thought, in his
speaking countenance, the grace of his blended
dignity and meekness, and his eloquent conver-
sation, how the people had been taken by the man.
He attended my ministry ; and that I could not so
readily account for. But he had been there be-
fore ; had frequently been at the Methodist church,
and several times had preached there; and that
too I could not explain. But the greatest puzzle of
all was, that the poorest of my poor knew him,
and loved him as a benefactor; and go where T
might among the hovels of poverty, his tracks had
been there ; and great as everybody knew him to
be, these poor people never called him great, but
good: "Dear, good Dr. Kollock" was their usual
title for him. I trust I have never been so un-
amiable as to prefer thinking evil rather than good
of any man ; but I had certainly been unjust to
Dr, Kollock ; and it was not till after his third call
that I went to see him. So cruel a thing is pre-
judice, and so wrong it is for one to make up his
mind on any matter from a showing on one side.
I say that I make mention of his name with gra-
titude, while I honor his memory as that of one of
the greatest men of my time.*
* I hope it will not be imputed to me, for tMs, that I am, or ever
was, a Calyinist. Dr. Kollock neyer suspected anj such thing of me^
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 216
I will relieve this, seeming digression by an
anecdote of some years previous to this. At the
time of Dr. Flinn's leaving Camden for Charleston,
and on that account, he incurred the displeasure
of some of his own sect, among whom was a rather
cynical personage by the name of Cowser. There
was a synod, or some such meeting, held in
Charleston, at which Dr. Kollock was present, and
preached with great eclat. Cowser and Flinn were
both present, and after the sermon, the former,
tickled with an occasion for mortifying the latter,
who also was very eloquent, went up to him and
said, " Well, Dr. Flinn, how does it make you feel
to hear such a man as that?'* "Why, brother
Cowser,** answered the Doctor dryly, "T suppose it
may make me feel pretty much as it makes you feel
to hear me preach.** Good, and the cynic felt the
retort.
From the beginning, my congregations in Savan-
nah were very large ; and after a short time, the
church might have been filled, had it been half
again as large as it was. Strikingly in contrast with
or of my brethren. He was too truly great and good to shut up his
zeal for Christ and religion to the Calvinists only. But there is a
class of men who do so ; and who seem to think that any courtesy
or senrice extende'd to a Methodist might be profane. Thus I had
the mortification of seeing myself published as a ** Calvinist Me-
thodist minister," in certain quarters, because I had preached a
funeral sermon on the occasion of Dr. Kollock's death. And I sup-
pose it to be for some such reason that a certain reyerend gentle-
man in Georgia is now stoutly affirming in the newspapers that my
late colleague, Bishop Bascom, was a Calvinist.
216 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
the church in Wilmington in 1813, there were very
few negroes who attended Methodist preaching;
the policy of the place allowing them separate
churches, and the economy and doctrines of the
Baptist Church pleasing them better than ours.
There was but one side of the gallery appropriated
to their use, and it was always the most thinly
seated part of the church ; while there were two re-
spectably large colored churches in the city, with
their pastors, and deacons, and sacraments, and
discipline, all of their own. I had therefore little
access to this portion of the people, and could do
but little for them. Nevertheless, our few mem-
bers were zealous for their Church, and often had
controversies with their Baptist brethren in the
neighborhood. Fine specimens of controversy, to
be sure, they must have been ; and I am tempted
to give a sample for the benefit of controversialists
in general.
I was holding a love-feast for them, and Csesar,
an elderly African, spoke with great animation
of a good meeting he had had across the river,
at which somebody had agreed to join the Church,
and was now present for that purpose. And when he
had sat down, it being time to conclude the ser-
vice, I asked him if I had understood him rightly^
as saying that Tie had brought some oue. to join
the Church.
"Yes, sir," answered he, briskly, <Mat da him."
"But did you not say, old man, that she was a
Baptist?"
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 217
"Yes, sir, e Bapty/*
"But why don't she stay with her own peo
pie?"
Here he arose, and putting himself in an oratori-
cal posture, he proceeded thus :
"You see, sir, oberwe side de riber, (river,) some
Bapty and some Metody. An de Bapty, dem say
de ting tan (stand) so, (motioning to the left,) and
de Metody, we say e tan so, (motioning to the
right.) An so me and bro. Tom, we bin hab
meetin ; and one Bapty broder bin da, and dis sister
bin da. An me talk pon um, an de Bapty broder
talk pon um ; and him talk and me talk long time.
An ater (after) dis sister set down da long time, an
yeddy (hear) we good fasin, (fashion,) e tell me say,
' Bro. Caesar, me tink you. right.' Me say, Ki, sister,
you say you tinke me right ? Me know me right.
So, sir, you see me bring uxn to you fuh'^for) join
Church. An you know, sir, de Scripter say, de
strongis dog, let um hole (hold) fas."
And who might have been the weaker dog where
Cseaar was the stronger one? Homely work must
they have made of it, but I dare say they were honest,
which is more than I would say for some better-
bred controvertists, who, with a fair show of speech
and becoming figures, make their controversies
like a dog-fight, with a bone (or a book) for the
prize, and all under warrant of Scripture, as they
hold it.
. We had scarcely been made comfortable in our
pew quarters, before I found that our infant Church
10
218 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
was heavily in debt. And as I thought it better to
clear away the rubbish at first, I immediately un-
dertook a journey by the way of our liberal friends
on Black Swamp, in Beaufort District, to Charles-
ton, for the purpose of removing this incubus. I
was gone about three weeks, when I returned witb
eighteen hundred dollars, which, together with an
arrangement for renting part of the parsonage-
house for a few years, (which had been constructed
with a view to something of the sort,) cancelled the
debt, and set us at liberty. The class and public
collections were ample for all our wants, and, as
regarded temporal things, there was no lack. I
might not say that we " fared sumptuously every
day," but we had a comfortable sufficiency of all
good things. And this was that "forlorn hope,'*
which had been considered so very trying that my
good Biftiop would not send me to it till he had
first got my consent to go.
With respect to the more important matters of
ministerial success, it was manifest that in neither
of the towns where I had been, was there so fair a
prospect of establishing our Church as here. Dr.
Kollock was right in judging that there was a large
and respectable portion of the community for whom
the Methodist ministry promised the most likely
means of conversion. And it was this judgment
of that noble-minded man which induced him to
befriend us. As time passed on, it was seen that
we had gained a permanent congregation, who
worshipped nowhere else, but morning, afternoon,
AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 210
and evening were to be found at the Methodist
church. And a more decorous congregation I have
never preached to.
As the sickly season came on, I found myself
gradually relieved of the painful apprehension
which had been so troublesome before. There was
an event before us for Mrs. Capers, but it came off
favorably, and the 8th of August gave us a son,
Francis Withers. My first son, William Theo-
dotus, whose birth had proved the occasion of his
mother's death, had died about the time of my
second marriage.
An affectionate people, a kind and respectful
community, crowded congregations, and our meet-
ings for Christian fellowship well attended and
profitable, made this year one to be remembered.
What was thought to be the hardest appointment
I could have received, proved the best I ever had
had. And a better, no one need desire, of my
pretensions, and with my aims in view. Every
thing went well. During the summer it became
apparent*that the health of our friend, and every-
body's friend. Dr. Kollock, was permanently in-
jured. His flesh shrunk, he grew pale and wan,
his countenance lost its vivacity, and he was unable
to fulfil the duties of the pulpit or the pastorate.
It was not for the honor, God. knows, but from a
grateful sense of duty, that I did what T could to
supply his lack of service, and preached for him
generally once on the Sabbath day. Ilis strength
declined more and more, till he was struck with para-
220 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
lysis, of which he died. It was on Sunday, just as he
was entering the door of his house on his return
from church, that he suffered the fatal shock which
deprived him instantly of consciousness, and, after
a few days, of life. And I am the more particular
to mention it, that I may notice what has always
appeared to me the most imposing and affecting
exhibition of Christian sympathy that I have ever
witnessed. Prayers were offered in all the churches
for him in the after-services of that melancholy
day, of course ; but what I allude to was the as-
sembling of his congregation daily, morning and
afternoon, with the ministers and members of the
other Churches, in his church, to offer prayers to
God for him. The Episcopalian minister was not
with us, only for the reason that a "higher law*'
than humanity or charity, public virtue or personal
worth, required his absence. Nothing under hea-
ven might induce the Jews and Samaritans to pray
together, though they might pray by themselves
apart; and Christians of the nineteenth century,
for being under the obligations of a like "higher
law,*' might not invalidate their exclusiveness on
any possible account. But it was affecting to be
there. The multitude of persons assembled, the
all-pervading solemnity of the scene, the intense
interest manifested in the prayers, and the tears
that accompanied them, while the man of God,
whom all had honored for his virtues and his
talents, and whose eloquent tongue had been so
often listened to in that house with rapture, lay
AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 221
speechless, motionless, unconscious on the bed of
death, all conspired with unexampled power to im-
press us deeply. The physicians (who were always
with him) had told us that his death was certain,
and that it was impossible for him to recover con-
sciousness, though he might linger for some time
in that unconscious state. And this was especially
deprecated. Earnest, fervent prayers were offered
that it might please our Heavenly Father to restore
him to his senses, if but for an hour; and this
boon, so earnestly entreated for, was granted while
we were at prayer on the morning of the third day.
I was leading the exercises, when a messenger
announced that our sick friend had called for me,
and, giving the book to another, I instantly obeyed
the summons. He was deathly pale, and the
muscles of his face looked relaxed and flabby, but
his eye was that of Dr. KoUock in his best estate,
except a weakness of one of his eyelids. As I took
his hand, and said, "God is with you, my dear sir,"
he answered by repeating 2 Cor. i. 6, "For as the
sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolar
tion also aboundeth by Christ.'* He seemed to
know that it would cost him an effort, and spoke
very slowly but distinctly each word of the text as
above. He evidently was happy, knowing himself
to be on the verge of Jordan, and his Redeemer
with him. Several hours were allowed him, of un-
speakable interest to his family and friends, in this
calm triumph over death and the grave, and he fell
asleep in Jesus. (And I repeat, that I esteem him
22% LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBBS.
to have been one of the noblest of men.) The
death of a good man is always a loss, and more the
death of a good minister ; but the death of Dr.
Kolloek was a public calamity which every one
deplored, and of which the public feeling sought
to express itself in the strongest manner possible.'
The Conference at the close of the year was held
in Charleston, and was attended by Bishop Mc-
Kendree. I was returned to Savannah for the year
1820 ; and this being the session for the election of
delegates to the General Conference in May, 1820,
T was chosen one of that number.
Returning ;tQ Savannah, I had the satisfaction of
receiving a Qiost hiearty welcome from the Church
and the community; and I resumed the labors of
my ministry with a cheerful spirit. The time passed
pleasantly. on, in the usual course of preaching
thre^ timea every ;Sabbath day, and on Wednesday
eyeniiigs, holdinig on^ or two prayer-meetings, and
visiting the classes weekly, and whatever else my
hand found to do:. ,1 had much to encourage,
and nothing worth.mention to perplex or embarrass
me. .. .
The General Conference at Baltimore, May 1,
required me to leave toy charge early in April, that
I might attend it, Oui* mode of travelling was
overland to Petersburg, and thence (or rather from
City Point) to Baltimore by steamboat.
At this General Conference, I introduced the
rtieasure instituting District Conferences for the
local preachers. It was my first essay at making
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 228
rales and regulations for the Church, and was alike
successful and unlucky. It was successful, inas-
much as it carried ; and carried too without any
serious opposition from any quarter ; and, I think,
with less discussion and greater unanimity than I
have ever known in the adoption of any measure
which proposed the introduction of a new feature
into our economy, except only the Plan of Separa-
tion in 1844. But it was unlucky, and had better
not have been adopted, by the fault of certain local
preachers of the Baltimore Conference, and in
some other parts of the Connection north of Balti-
more, who perverted it to purposes of mischief.
And it is probable that this was induced, in part,
by the discussion of "the Presiding Elder ques-
tion,'* which was warmly, if not angrily, urged at
that General Conference, in presence of those very
local preachers who were shortly to give us trou-
ble. But I have yet to be convinced that this mea-
sure of District Conferences deserves to be consid-
ered "a startling innovation^'' as Dr. Bangs calls it
in his History of the Methodist Episcopal Church,
(vol. iii., page 142, edition 1841,) or that the
abuses by which it was dishonored, if ^^ foreseen'*
by any member of the General Conference, were
brought to the notice of that body. There may
have been those who, knowing the temper of local
preachers in parts of the Connection unknown to
me, foresaw or suspected what came to pass in the
action of a few of the District Conferences, as
above stated ; but I am sure that I heard of no
224 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
such prognostications before the event, neither in
the General Conference, nor out of it. I sincerely
attribute the failure of the District Conferences to
the agitation of "^Ae Presiding Elder question,'' in
view of the importance which was given to it, and
the vehemence with which it was urged. And to
the same source is traceable all the "radical" dis-
turbances which resulted in the formation of the
Protestant Methodist Church. We learn from the
same author that many of the local preachers them-
selves were much dissatisfied with the District
Conference, while "m others, where they were most
detii^e in procuring the passage of the law creating and
deling the powers of this Conference, a spirit of in-
subordination incompatible with the rights and
privileges of the itinerancy began to manifest itself,
tod there can be no doubt that this injudicious
measure, which had been presented to and carried
through the Conference with some precipitancy,
tended to foment that spirit of radicalism which
ended in the secession of the party who styled them-
selves reformers, and who have since organized
under the name of the "Protestant Methodist
Church.'*
It is certainly an error to ascribe to the District
Conferences a tendency to foment the spirit of
radicalism ; for there was nothing in the nature of
the institution, nor in the act of the General Con-
ference granting it, which might have any such
tendency. Its whole scope and design was to
elevate and improve the local preachers, and to
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 225
bring them into closer connection with the itine-
rancy. But something there was which " tended
to foment that spirit of radicalism,** and of that
something the historian was not so free to speak,
for, unfortunately, he was on the wrong side, and
one of the principal advocates of the measure ; [
mean the proposition to transfer from tHe Bishops
to the Annual Conferences the appointment of
Presiding Elders, which next to the question of
slavery was the most mischievous, and was alto-
gether the most " radical, *V and most vehemently
insisted on, of all the questions which have dis-
tracted General Conferences in my time. The
debate at this Conference I have already character-
ized as vehement, if not angry. The power of the
Bishops was assailed as incompatible with the prin-
ciples of right government, and while no instance
was adduced, nor could be adduced, of an abuse of
that power to the injury of any one, its curtail-
ment was insisted on with as much earnestness as
if heaven and earth had been staked on the issue.
That the Bishop was elected by the eldership, and
held to the strictest accountability to that elder-
ship for every act of his administration, was not
sufficient for any thing but tyranny, as the inno-
vators held it, but required the balance of a set of
men to be elected in each Annual Conference for
the purpose of dictating to the Bishop the action
which he alone should be answerable for. If I
have known what has been meant by the word
"radical," I first heard the principles of radicalism
16
226 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
broached and insisted on in that General Confer-
ence of 1820. There the local preachers had their
radicalism instilled into them« or if not^ and they
were radicals before, they must have been greatly
comforted and edified in their previoa»s &ith by
what they h^trd from travelling preachers. At
any rate, the same outcry against the power of the
Bishops which has been the key-note of radicalism
from that day to this, was raised to a high pitch by
that party of travelling preachers who insisted on
electing the Presiding Elders as a check on the
authority of the Bishops; and it continued to
he vociferated at several successive General Con-
ferences, till its evident evil fruits in the radical
secession gave it its end. It was my opinion at
the time, and I have not been enabled to change it
by any thing I have known since, that the object
of that party in the itinerant ministry was to en-
feeble the administration in the appointment of the
preachers^ that the itinerancy might be made more
convenient to them. Their fears of the episcopal
authority supplied the place of any known or
alleged impropriety on the part of the Bishops in
the exercise of the appointing power. They did
not mean a revolution which should set aside the
Episcopacy altogether, but they both meant, and
plied their utmost efforts to effect, such an enfeeble-
ment of it, as we believed would lead ultimately to
that result. So also I would say of the local
preachers who appeared so deeply interested for
their success, and who, till the secession, were an-
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 227
derstood to be in correspondence with that kindred
party of itinerants. I have no idea that, at the
first, they intended either revolution or secession,
but that with the measure which proposed to give
leading ministers a positive influence over their
appointments in the itinerancy, or shortly to follow
it, there should be allowed a delegation of local
preachers, under the name of a lay delegation, in
the General Conference. This was hinted at by
more than one speaker, and oftener than once or
twice, during the discussion on ''the Presiding
Elder question," as a thing right and proper to be
done.
But of all these things I was entirely ignorant
when I drew up in Savannah, in the month of
March, the plan for improving the local ^preachers
by the institution of a District Conference. I no
more dreamed of the radicalism of a lay delegation
to the General Conference, for the purpose of in-
troducing local preachers there, than of that other
feature of the same thing, which I was astonished
to hear so stoutly advocated by leading ministers
of the itinerancy in the General Conference, re-
specting the power which should appoint the
preachers. I have ever considered these two prin-
ciples—a delegation of local preachers in the Gen-
eral Conference, and the travelling preachers taking
a share in their own appointments — as being alike
"radical" with respect to the economy of Method^i-
iam But at this General Conference of 1820, let
it b^ remembered, the disturbing question was not
that of a lay delegation^ but of t^ eledtioii of tbe
228 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
Presiding Elders by the Annual Conferences as a
check on the authority proper to the Bishops ; and
the disturbers were not local preachers, but travel-
ling preachers, from whom and their question the
transition was easy and natural to the local
preachers and their question. It was most unfor-
tunate that the District Conference should have
been introduced into our economy at such a time ;
the most unpropitious that could have been fallen on.
The entire measure, first and last, was conceived
and proposed by myself. I had neither conference,
conversation, nor correspondence with any local
preacher on the subject, neither before the General
Conference, nor during the time of its session, prior
to its final action on the subject, neither at home,
at Baltimore, nor anywhere else. I have already
said that I was entirely ignorant of any dissatisfac-
tion (not to say insubordination) among the local
preachers in any part of the Connection, but sup-
posed them to be in other Conferences, as I knew
them to be in the South Carolina Conference, as well
satisfied with the economy of the Church as any
other portion of her members were. I now believe,
and have long since believed, that there were about
Baltimore, and perhaps north of it, certain emineit
local preachers who, at the time of the General
Conference in 1820, were dissatisfied with the
economy of the Church, in so far as it excluded
them from a direct participation in its government ;
but I neither knew it nor suspected it at the time;
nor did I know any thing then about the men,
more than the respectability of their names.
LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS,
FROM
HIS TUIRTT-FIRST TEAK TO HIS DEATH.
BY WILLIAM M. WIGHTMAN, D.D.
LIFE
OF
WILLIAM CAPERS.
CHAPTER I.
Value of autobiography — Mr. Capers appointed Superintendent
of a Mission to the Creek Indians — Stationed at Milledgeyille,
Georgia.
The foregoing autobiography traces minutely,
and with fidelity, the inner life as well as the out-
ward circumstances of William Capers, from in-
fancy up to his thirty-first year. It lays bare the
formative influences, parental, domestic, and edu-
cational, which produced the man. We are per-
mitted to see the boy-impulses ripening into char-
acter and manners; the aspirations of ambitious
youth ; the providential ordering of early circum-
stances so as to make them all converge upon the
great life-determining event — his conversion to
God. Sharply defined, admitting of no after-doubt,
the realized result of a Divine visitation, conferring
(281)
232 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
stable peace of mind and all the attributes of the
renewed character, this grand crisis is the point of
departure from which, having "broken with the
world,'* his course of public usefulness began, en-
larging into distinguished eminence, and termi-
nating at length in the laurelled honors of a trium-
phant death, and a memory precious and embalmed
in the affections of a sorrowing Church.
We are now to trace the incidents of a public
life, extending from his thirty-first to his sixty-fifth
year; crowded with labors and responsibilities;
acted out in the presence of a. great cloud of wit-
nesses ; touching the story of the Methodist Church
at many vital points; illustrating the care of a
watchful Providence ; made signal. by the presence
of the paramount law of duty; displaying the
"triple nobility of nature, culture, and faith;"
lived out to its last act without fear §.nd without
reproach, and conferring upon society advantages,
moral and spiritual, of the highest worth* What-
ever belonged to him of dignity, of unity of char-
acter, of lofty purpose, of sustained energy and
activity: in a word, every element which contrib-
uted its force in winning the battle of life -and
achieving distinction, maybe referred to the domi-
nation of the religious principle in his heart. Th^j
whole life, in its manifold relations, crowded with
active engagements, brilliant in many of its paSr
sages, and not free from the touch of sorrow und
the pressure of adversity, is formed on the grand
ideas of religion. It is a noble development of the
TH£ CREEK INDIANS. 258
true theory of life. The foundation-maxim of the
whole was, that the value of any thing is the price
it will bear in eternity. Steering steadily by
the light of this guiding principle, nothing was
trusted to the accidents of winds and waves ; the
right direction was always maintained, and the
right port made at the end.
The Missionary Society of the Methodist Episco-
pal Church was organized in 1819, in the city
of New York ; and at the General Conference, held
the next year, the constitution was amended, and
branch societies were recommended to be formed in
all the Annual Conferences. The first mission estab-
lished was among the Wyandot Indians, a tribe in
Ohio. The next was a mission to the Creek In-
dians, occupying, at that time, lands in Georgia
and Alabama, east and west of the Chattahoochee
river. At the session of the South Carolina Con-
ference of 1821, Mr. Capers was selected by Bishop
McKendree to set on foot this mission. Leaving
his family in Savannah until April, Mr. Capers set
out on horseback on an extensive tour of appoint-
ments, for the purpose of awakening public atten-
tion to the moral and religious improvement of *^his
tribe of Indians, who occupied the western frontier
of the Conference. Contributions were solicited
for the purpose of erecting mission premises, and
establishing a school ; and the project, in the hands
of so eloquent an advocate, met with general favor.
In April, six weeks after the birth of his daughter,
Susan, now the wife of Prof. Stone, of Emory Col-
2S4 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPSRS.
lege, lie removed his family to Georgetown, South
Oarolina. Heavy rains had fallen, and rivers and
creeks were swollen with freshets. Mr. Capers
was driving the carriage containing his wife, chil-
dren, and nurse ; and coming to along bridge, drove
upon it without knowing that the farther end was
washed away. Some workmen, however, happened
to be near, and by their aid a bateau was brought
up, and Mrs. Capers and the children were carried
safely to land. Mr. Capers then loosed the horses,
and sitting in the bateau, plunged them through,
holding the reins. The carriage was then floated
over without much damage. Farther on, a deep
creek was passed by means of a floating log, over
which the family were transported, while Mr.
Capers swam the horses and carriage over.
On the 19th of August he left Augusta on his
way to the Creek Indians. This tour was under-
taken to ascertain whether they could be persuaded
to receive missionaries among them, inasmuch as,
some time previously, they had declined being thus
served. At Clinton Mr. Capers was joined by Col.
R. A. Blount, a personal friend, and an invaluable
ally in this enterprise. The Governor of Georgia
waited on him at Milledgeville, and tendered his
of&cial recommendation under the seal of the Ex-
ecutive Department. On the 29th, Col. Blount
and he set out on horseback, each with a blanket,
great-coat, umbrella, saddlebags, and wallet. They
carried sugar and coffee ; and on one side of Mr. Ca-
pers's saddle hung a coffee-pot, on the other a tin*
THH OREBK tHDIAKji. 285
3tip. They entered the Creek nation on the Ist of
September. On the next day, Sunday, he preached
the first missionary sermon ever heard in the then
dreary country between the Flint and Ghatta^
hoochee rivers. This was at the house of ia Mr.
Spain; his congregation consisting of a few whites
and blacks, and five Indians. The text waS' A|fpro-
priatc: "The land of Zabulon, and the land of
Nephthalim, by the way of the sea, beyond Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles: The people which sat in
darkness saw great light, and to them which iat in
the region and shadow of death light is sprungup."
The next day they reached the house of a Mr. 'Por-
ter, and the day following passed five or six miles
up the river, through rich, low grounds. ' Here
they reached Coweta, the principal part 'of the
town lying on the east side of the Chattahoochee.
Crossing the ferry, they entered the public square,
where they found Col. Mcintosh, one of the chiefs.
Mr. Capers gave him some letters, and" was told
that an interview would be* afforded him 6n the next
morning.
Here he witnessed an Indian ball-play. As one
of the principal sports of savage life, Mr.:Capers*s
description of it may interest the reader : " There
now arrived a company of players, who, upon
coming up to the square, raised a yell, and ran furi-
ously around, whooping and yelling, with short,
exact pauses as they ran — every individual changing
his voice and pausing simultaneously. I confess I
felt what might be called a fine effect. Waugh,
236 LIF^ OF WILLIAM' OAPBRS.
waugh, waugh, distinctly hallooed by an hundred
loud voices, every one breathing a like sound at the
same breath, and pausing between the repetition
just long enough for the full play of the lungs
upon the sound that should follow ; and the deep,
full glound of waugh, suddenly, but with the nicest
precltfdn, lifted into a most piercing yell — and
this, 'in turn, changed for a softer note — and then
all alternated, produced a pleasurable amazement.
I could hot but observe how well adapted was the
arrangement of the sounds, and the time they were
uttered in, to produce the loudest eflfort of the
voice with the least fatigue. This exercise was
called' a challenge, and I suppose those who per-
formed it were to act together in the play. They
had reduced their dress to a single piece of blue or
red woollen cloth, thirty or forty inches long and
eight wide, passing closely under the body, and
supported by a strong string about the waist, the
ends falling over the string and forming a flap
before and behind. These flaps were narrowed
down to four inches width, or tapered to a point,
and bound with green, red, or yellow ferretting,
according to the taste and ability of the wearer.
It is the only garment that modesty obliged an
Indian to wear. Fastened under the string that
supports this nameless coveringj from the bottom
of the back rising upwards to the shoulder-blade,
the more highly ornamented players wore a tail of
the tiger, or fox, or wolf, or furs twisted together
BO as to resemble this; and sometimes a single
INDIAN BALL-PLAY. 287
feather, or a mop of them, taken from the goose,
or cock, or owl, substituted a plume. These, with
wide woollen garters, earrings, and a little paint
or soot blotched upon the face, dressed them to
their highest wishes.
" But more remarkable than even their undress
or their music, was the wonderful manner of their
running round a small tree during the challenge.
Huddled together within a diameter of thirty or
forty feet, every individual was in rapid motion,
without contracting or extending the circle, and
with such regularity that those nearest the centre
never jostled each other. Their regularity was
like the wheeling of a platoon, and the swiftness
of their motion like a wheel upon its axle.
" The challenge over, they went oft* separately,
and we soon after followed to the place of their
amusement. It was a level but not very open
piece of mixed woods, about three hundred yards
distant from the square. We were quite in time
to observe all the preparation for the play. Two
small saplings, at their base four feet apart,
and inclined outwards at top, were stuck into the
earth at either end of the ball-ground, a distance
of one hundred and fifty yards. Just beyond, at
the nearer pair of poles, a company of players were
irregularly tossing and catching a ball with their
sticks ; and nearer us the women and children were
squatted about, listlessly waiting the play. A
number of Indians (and the number constantly in-
creasing) were lounging all about us. Here wae
^38 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
TuBtunanggee Hopoi (the Little Prince) and M<^
Intosfa ; the one sitting on the bare gronnd, with
his back supported against a tree ; the other lying
at full length, undistinguished among the herd of
loiterers. I was surprised to observe them neither
better dressed nor more attended than the rest.
Hopoi's countenance was more in character than
his apparel ; but Mcintosh, with a shrewder look,
that would seem to hide himself, discovered nothing
of the chief about him.
" Here and there I could observe one proposing
a wager. A pair of bells, tobacco, and some money
were exposed for betting ; but bets were not fre-
quent. The hurried action of the increased com-
pany of players, apprised us that the play would
soon commence. Now the opposite company of
players were discovered beyond the farther pair of
poles. A well-dressed Indian, mounted on a good
pony, galloped hastily along the ground from party
to party, as if to arrange for their coming together.
Immediately those I had first observed huddled
themselves for the challenge. This was begun a
little beyond and to the left of the poles, and con-
tinued as at the square, only that the group main-
tained a direction toward the poles at the same
time with their swift vertical running. When op-
posite the poles, their opponents exhibited the same
manoeuvre, and then, with the wildest gesticula-
tion and great clamor, both parties ran together.
*' Lovett had placed himself midway between the
polesy and served as the pivot on which the whole
INDIAN BALL-PLAT. SW
seemed to turn for five minutes ; while their whoopi
and yells (measured and alternated as before, but
with redoubled violence) roused the whole con-
course of spectators to their feet. A pause ensued.
The equal number of the parties was ascertained
by their laying down in opposite rows their ball-
sticks. These resemble a battledoor, only that the
hooped end of the stick is not so broad, and, instead
of being overlaid with parchment, has only a few
slack strings drawn across the hoop, close enough to
retain the ball, and not so slack as to entangle it.
There were one hundred and fifty pair of sticks,
and these ascertained to be equally divided, Seven-
ty-five players being on either side.
" The parties having been found equal, each took
up their sticks, and placed themselves promiscu-
ously about the ground, the greater number stand-
ing near the centre. Every countenance was ex-
pressive of eager expectation until the ball was
tossed up and the play began. Either party strove
against the other to throw the ball between an op-
posite pair of poles, for which purpose the sticks
only were to be used. Their dexterity in this, and
their adroitness in foiling each other, were indeed
surprising. As soon as either party had succeeded
to throw the ball between the poles, another
was tossed up from the centre of the ground ; and
their violent exercise, without the slightest inter-
mission, was continued nearly three hours. Each
party had gained the ball seventeen times, when
Qie dusk of evening concluded their unfinished
240 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERS.
game. Mcintosh signified to them that they should
desist, and placed himself for their rally ing-point,
round which their shouts and yells were bellowed
forth with more breath than ever; and they all
dispersed.
" It would be difficult to tell the feelings under
which my mind labored through the scenes of this
day. I hope I have never been insensible to the
moral condition of the heathen ; and since my ap-
pointnient as the Conference missionary, it has
employed my thoughts and my care far more than
formerly. I had read something and imagined
more, but the scene was laid at too great a distance.
I had not supposed that so close at the door of
civilized man — just beyond sight of the Bible and
the sound of our sacred services — there could exist
so gross a state of human degradation. The
evidence of my own senses, in the sudden, shame-
ful scene at the river, amazed and dejected me;
and now, that for four long hours I had witnessed
the whole parade of whooping and yelling, of paint
and nakedness, I had scarcely any spirit left.'*
They passed the night at Noble Kennard*s, one
of the head men at Coweta, and brother-in-law of
Mcintosh, who had distinguished himself in the
late war. The next morning Mcintosh, accom-
panied with Lovett as an interpreter, waited on
Mr. Capers. He was a half-breed, understood Eng-
lish very well, and had served under Gen. Jackson
in the Seminole war in 1818. Indian etiquette re-
quired, however, that he should communicate with
■N
PBELIMINARIES SETTLED* 241
Mr. Capers only through an interpreter. He intro-
duced the conversation by saying that he had come
as he had promised, and waited to hear what was
to be said. Mr. Capers replied that he came only
on the errand of charity, as the agent of the Church,
and under the patronage of government. The gov-
ernment wished to better the condition of the In-
dians by having their children instructed, and the
Churches felt it their sacred duty to go forward in
this good work; that neither their money northeir
lands were sought, but only an opportunity to do them
good ; that for eight months he had been employed
in preaching and making collections to defray the
expenses of a school, and was ready to introduce
one among them ; that, to assure the chiefs of his
good intentions, and the benevolence of the Church
he represented, he had letters from Gov. Clark, and
from Generals Meriwether, Mcintosh, and Mitchell,
of Georgia, all which Col. Blount would read to
him ; and that he had also a letter from Mr. Cal-
houn, Secretary of War, to Mr. Crowell, their
agent; and, finally, that he had committed to
writing the substance of what he had to propose to
the chiefs. Mcintosh wished to hear the letters
read, and the paper that contained the " talk" to the
3hiefs, saying at the same time that neither he nor
the chiefs then at Coweta could conclude any thing
on the business, but must wait a General Council
of all the chiefs of the nation, without which, and
the consent of the agent, no white man could be
permitted to live among them. The papers were
16
^2 LIFfi OF WILLIAM CAPBB8.
aoeordlDgly read by CoL Blount ; after which life'
Intodh signified his approval of the proposed obj^cf^
and appeared pleased with the conditions specified.
He saggested that the papers should be confided to
Lovett until the meeting of the Council, which he
)^sured Mr. Capers should be held as soon as poa*
sible afber the agent's return.
In October Mr. Capers made a second visit to
the Creeks, accompanied by the Rev. C. Q. Hill,
Who had been selected to reside in the nation in
the event of a successful application. The National
Council was held early in November, and the
articles of agreement submitted were accepted by
the chiefs. Mr. Hill was left to board with Lovett,
and Mr. Capers set out immediately for Augusta
to procure supplies and employ workmen ; having
shown address equal to his zeal in managing a
negotiation peculiarly difficult under the circum-
stances. On his way back he attended a camp*
meeting in Jones county. The transitioti from an
Indian council to a camp-meeting awakened strong
emotions in him ; he describes his feelings in the
following paragraph: ^^It was night, and I had
lost my way, but my mind was intent upon the
meeting. I was hasting to forget the vulgar scenes
of savage life in the solemn services of our Im-
manuel. I was prepared to admire the illuminatcid
ground, the multitude of worshippers, the order of
the encampment, when, at 8 o'clock in the eveliing,
I reached this happy place. ^ Blessed is the nation
whose God is the Lord !' Blessed be God who hath
. ^EHS MISSION BEGUK. $243
fhade tl8 sach a nation! Here are they Whcf loV€
and serve the Saviour. Here the hard heart is
troken, and the penitent rejoice. The Church ex-
ults in Christy-Christ owns the Church. I too will
rejoice in this great mercy. When shall all flesh
see the salvation of God ? . "When shall the no^
imbruted Indian * call Jesus Lord by the Holy
Ghost ?' Christians, by all the blessings you enjoy,
charge yourselves to pray and care for these."
In the course of the next year, mission premises
were erected one mile west of the Chattahoochee^
not far from Coweta. The station was named
after the venerable Asbury, and was served by the
Rev. Isaac Smith, the appointment of Mr. Capers
as superintendent being continued. Oppositioh,
however, soon showed itself. One of the chiefe.
Big Warrior, openly avowed himself hostile to the
work of preaching the gospel among the Indiatifs.
Some degraded white men, who lived on thfe 6ut-
skirts of the nation, in the " back-Water" of the
stream of civilization, encouraged this opposition.
The agent had little use for preachers^ though he
did not so far violate the instructions of the Secre-
tary of War as to oppose the scihool project. In
the face of these discouragements Mr. Smith opened
a school consisting of twelve Indian children. The
iiutnber doubled itself in a week. And during the
five or six years of its continuance, until the rjBt-
moval of the Creeks beyond the Mississippi^ tUe
^mission school varied from thirty-five to 6.S[y
scholars in regular attendance. , The progtees i6f
244 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
the children in learning was satisfactoiy, although
the Creek nation was considered inferior in intel-
ligence to their neighbors, the Cherdkees. There is
preserved in the museum of Wofford College a
memento of the capabilities of the Indian boys.
It is a copy, in Roman letters, of one of the Meth-
odist hymns, commencing:
** Come, thou Omniscient Son of man,"
which was made in the presence of Mr. Smith, by
an Indian lad, nearly grown up, who came in 1822
to the mission school, and requested to be taken as
a scholar. The school was pretty full, and the mis-
sionaries did not prefer to take so large a pupil.
To make a favorable impression of his abilities, he
went to a desk and copied, without knowing a
letter, the hymn aforementioned. The specimen
of native genius thus executed is highly creditable,
and the boy was admitted.
The United States Government, wisely, and in
accordance with the wishes of the great body of the
American people, made, at that period of the his-
tory of Indian affairs, an annual appropriation of
ten thousand dollars, for the purpose of aiding in
the civilization of the Indian tribes. In 1824 ap-
propriations were made to twenty educational
establishments, principally Presbyterian and Bap-
tist, set on foot for the improvement of the In-
dians ; among these there was one of five hundred
dollars made to the Mission Committee of the
Ohio Conference, in behalf of the mission school
AT MILLBDGEVILLB. 245
among the Wyandots. From first to last, the As-
bury mission school among the Creeks received not
a dollar of the government appropriations. The
whole burden of sustaining it was met by voluntary
contributions within the limits of the South Caro-
lina Conference — then embracing Georgia. Mr.
Capers gave his full strength and time, during 1821
and 1822, to the task of soliciting these contri-
butions. A gratifying success attended his efforts,
though they involved protracted absences from his
family, and' much fatigue and exposure in horse-
back travelling, and no small amount of preaching.
His noble devotion to the cause of missions, illus-
trated by the whole course of his life, has left its
impress on the Conference of which he was a
distinguished member. Several of the sermons
preached by him in the CH)urse of these two years,
Were regarded at the time as among the most
powerful efforts of the American pulpit.
During the two following years, Mr. Capers was
stationed at Milledgeville, Georgia, and continued
Superintendent of the Asbury Mission. His family
had spent the former part of 1822 in Sumter Dis-
trict, South Carolina, at the residence of the Rev.
T. D. Glenn, a brother-in-law ; and the latter part
of the year in the hospitable mansion of his early
and long-continued friend, John H, Mann, Esq.,
of Augusta, Georgia. At Milledgeville there was
no parsonage ; but Governor Clark, whose wife was
a Methodist lady, having moved to a summer
retreat at Scottsboro', a short distance from Mil-
LIF^ OF WILLIAM GAFBRS.
l^geville, his residence, handsomely furni8h«d,
Wf^e j^iiidly put at the disposal of the stewards £>«
Mr* Cq^pers's purposes. In the course of the year
^ PiS^pe^uage was built and well furnished, and Mr.
Cp^rs rftoved into it in 1824. The location proved
to\be unhealthy, and the children were sick with
bilious fever. On the 15th October, his little
daughter^ Esther Anslie, died. His daughter
Susan was so ill that all hope of her recovery was
given up. On Sunday morning, the Methodisifc
church, being the only one open at that tinue, was
crowded. As the time for Divine service approach-'
ed, a paipful conflict arose in Mr. Capers's mind^
between the sense of duty to a large congregation,,
and the distressing apprehensions of a father's fenel-
ings that his child would die while he was absent.
His hesitation was only for a moment. Kneeling-
by her bed he committed her case to God, took
leave of her, and went to the church. Just then,
the femily physician, Dr. Williamson, came in,
and after administering some medicine, had the
pleasure to witness a speedy change for the better
in the sick child. The Doctor told Mrs. Capers
that he would relieve Mr. Capers's mind by an-
nQuncing tiie change to him ; and accordingly went
ii^to the church, and quietly approaching the pulpit,
interrupted the sereaion for a moment by whisper-
iag the pleading intelligence. The painful erao>
tio^ of the audience, all of whom knew the feet gIj
the child's extreme illness, was immediately re-:
Lif!yed by a brief aanoui^cement of the rows hrfrngM:
AT MILLEDaBTILLB. 347>
him by the physician. He resumed his sermon
with a deepened throb of gratitude to God, and
with pow^erful effect upon the listeners. He preach-
ed again, in the afternoon, and at night; and the
pulpit ministrations of that day, which had risen
in such gloom ovw the pastor's family, were me-
morable as the means of conversion to several
persons, and of great spiritual good to many
others.
During most of the time his Sunday's work was
a sunrise sermon at the Peniteptijiry, aiicjl three
sjdrvice» at his own church, besides administering
cat^iohetical inatructiiou to the childreia, in the io-
tarsrak &£ public worship. God was wijbh him, and
made hi& labors a blessing to mmy so^ls. lie
eajoyed the peapect 9^4 confidence of the com-
mumtjr, aad left th/e people of his chargje with d^ep
aQ4 mutual regrets at parting. I{e had attended,
in M«y, thd Sjeasion of the Geuar^l Conference held
at Baltiiiu>re, as on^ of the (iel^g^s pf the Soutji
Cftvoliaa GonfereBce.
. J
248 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
CHAPTEB II.
Stationed in Charleston — ^Editor of the Wesleyan Journal — ^Appointed
Presiding Elder — Defence of Bishop Soule's Sermon — Elected De-
legate to the British Conference.
From Milledgeville Mr. Capers was removed to
Charleston, South Carolina. In this station there
were three churches of respectable size, and a
small chapel in the suburbs — all united in one pas-
toral charge, which was placed in the hands of Mr.
Capers. The South Carolina Conference at that
time extended from the Cape Fear river to Ala-
bama. This large field was divided into eight
Presiding Elders' Districts, and embraced a mem-
bership, white and colored, of forty-two thousand.
In the city of Charleston, there were in the com-
munion of the Methodist Episcopal Church four
hundred and thirty-one whites, and two thousand
seven hundred and forty-seven colored. The col-
leagues of Mr. Capers were the Rev. Messrs. Manly,
Hoskins, and Olin. The health of Mr. Olin was
bad, and he was able to do no pastoral work ; in-
deed, it was only with the hope that he might have
sufficient strength to edit the Wesleyan Journal,
that he had been again stationed in Charleston
after the failure of his health during the year pre-
THE WESLEYAN JOURNAL. 24ft
ceding. The labors of a preacher in charge in
Charleston prior to the separation of the charges,
were severe indeed. He was liable to be called
upon at every hour of the day ; every evening was
occupied with an official meeting or in public wor-
ship ; and besides three sermons on Sunday, he had
on his hands the administration of the affairs of a
society numbering upwards of three thousand
souls. All this was enough to tax to the utmost
the capabilities, mental and physical, of any man.
The parsonage-house was a small wooden building,
erected in the time of Bishop Asbury, terribly hot
in summer, and with few conveniences in its fix-
tures. Mr. Capers occupied this house two years,
preaching regularly three times on Sunday, and
discharging the other duties of his office.
On the 1st of October, 1825, the Wesleyan Journal
made its cUbuL It was the second Methodist paper
published in the United States. It had been pro-
jected by Mr. Olin, and adopted by the Conference,
which made provisional arrangements for its pub-
lication under the editorial supervision of Mr.
Capers, in case Mr. Olin's health did not permit
him to undertake its management. As there was
no prospect that Mr. 01in*s services could be put
in requisition, the Journal was brought out, at the
date aforementioned, by Mr. Capers. In making his
editorial salutations to the patrons of the Wesleyan
Journal, Mr. Capers said : " We feel the want of
Mr. Olin keenly, but we cannot shrink from the
performance of a duty which, without our choice,
250 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
18 thus providentially cmt upon us. We use ua
disguise. The Wesleyaq Journal, in our hands,
cannot and will not pretend to learning. We con-
fess we know not how to gauge the ancients ; not
can we fix the measure of the moderns. We pro-
fess, however, to have measured ourselves. We
have been schooled in jcomimon life, and claim the
advantage of common sense ; and without affecting
what transcends our stature, we will use our mid-
dling, eommoursense ability, to as great advantage
as we can. We honor learning, and suppose we
can distinguish her fine gold from tinsel pedantry.
We admire wit and genius; but there is a little
limping, waggish fellow, whom we will not know.
We labor to promote the interests of religion, and
we wish to do it as religious men. We will * fol-
low after things which make for peace, and things
wherewith one m^y edify another.' ''
It is matter of surprise that Mr. Capers should
have consented to assume, in addition to pastoral and
pulpit labors already taxing his full strength, the
responsibilities and cares peculiar to the editor'a
chair. Especially, with a quick sensibility, a ner-
vous temperament, keen to &el the sting of a
thousand petty anokoyances which bristle around
the tripod ; with 9^ trainiiiig that went altogether in
tke directipn of extemporaneous address, ^nd ux>t
e^rcised i-n written composition ; with meagre re-
abOiirces in the way of exchanges ; with no corps of
pledged or paid oorr^spondents ; — that, in spite of
9il th^e embarrassments, he should have che^^^
CHRISTIAN ADVQCATS AND JOURNAL. 251
fully accepted the task put upon bim by bis breth-
reu, is, a bigh proof of unselfish devotion to the
interests of the Church. The Journal, in his hands,
exhibited a steady loyalty to th/e central truths of
Christianity ; his selections were mainly from the
writings of Wesley and Fletcher, lacking variety
perhaps, and of a cast somewhat too didactic, bui
meant chiefly for religious edification ; and his edi-
torials were brief, but bold to censure what he
deemed worthy of rebuke.
In September of the following year, the Chris-
tian Advocate was issued from the Book Room,
at New York, under the editorship of Mr. Badger,
who had relinquished the editorial management of
Zion's Herald in Boston, the first Methodist paper
published in this country. At the session of the
South Carolina Conference, at the close of 1826,
resolutions were adopted, instructing the Publish-
ing Committee of the Wesleyan Journal to nego-
tiate with the Book Agents at New York for a union
of the two papers. The reasons alleged for this
course, were, 1st. The desirableness of patronising
a paper the profits of which were distributed
equally among all the Annual Conferences of the
Connection ; 2d. The general desire for a Connexj-
tion^ paper; aiid 3d. An apprehension of damage
from the multiplication of local presses. Accord-^
ingly, arrangements were made by which jthe
Wesleyan Journal was merged in the Ohristiaa.
Advocate, which thence bore the title, ^' Christuw*
Adyojcateand J.ournal,"
252 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBBS.
Mr. Capers maintained throughout the two years
his position as an able, eloquent, and popular
preacher ; though he was able to visit his flock but
little. The four years succeeding were spent on
the Charleston District, in the office of Presiding
Elder. Removing his family to a residence in
Coming street, he entered with fine spirits upon
the duties of his new office. The district over
which he presided embraced the scope of country
lying between San tee and Savannah rivers, and ex-
tending from Charleston to the neighborhood of
Columbia. He had been relieved from the confine-
ment and woriy of editing the Journal, and was
allowed to breathe free amidst the solitudes of the
grand old woods. The afikirs of the district were
administered with the punctuality and ability which
belonged to his character; and his preaching at-
tracted large crowds at his Quarterly Meetings.
In the spring of 1827, at a camp-meeting held some
twelve or fourteen miles above Charleston, he
preached a most masterly and impressive sermon,
on the text, " Go and show John again those things
which ye do hear and see,** etc. His main posi-
tions were, that Christianity furnishes in its gra-
cious provisionsL a divine power to meet the moral
necessities of human nature ; and that in the appli-
cation and realization of this power, stands an irre-
fragable evidence, to the renewed soul, of the
divinity and truth of the gospel. He went into no
deep and curious speculation in regard to the modus
of that spiritual influence of which he was discours-
A GREAT SERMON. 253
>
ing; nor did he seek to settle with metaphysical
acuteness the precise border lines between this
mighty and mysterious power, and the moral
agency over which it is never wont to break with
irresistible flow of energy. But grouping together
the undeniable facts of human nature in its rela-
tions to God, moral government, and the eternal
state — its blindness, callousness, alienation ; its
profound torpor, on its religious side, contrasted
with its vigor, vivacity, and depth of susceptibility
on its earthly side — he made out the case of man's
spiritual necessities and moral predicament, with a
compactness of thought and a fervor of soul which
poured itself forth in the most graphic, fresh, and
telling illustrations. Having clearly delineated the
necessities which occasioned the Divine mercy in
redemption by Jesus Christ, he went on to show
how precisely the elements entering into the scheme
of recovery met the wants of man. As he set
forth the "Spirit of life in Christ Jesus,'' as the
great healing, saving powers he rose into a strain of
eloquent speech, which stirred the blood as with a
clarion's notes. At his master-touch, the shams of
mere ritualism, the plausibilities of a so-called
liberal Christianity, the religionism of the pic-
turesque and the sentimental, faded into thin air.
He showed how utterly insufficient was the whole
troop of them to meet the solemn exigences of the
case; and how above them all towered in majestic
grandeur the saving power of the gospel. " Power,
power !" he exclaimed, in a voice, at its full than*
'254 ' LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
der, rollings flame-girt words over the assembled
thousands aroutid him: "you offer me a religion;
I demand, can it open the blind eyes of my soul to
the interests of my eternity? Can it invest with
reality to my convictions the things of faith ? Can
it unstop my deaf ears to the voice of God and
duty ? Can it waft the spirit of health, and life,
and love, to my disordered, leprous soul ? Can it
raise me from the death of sin to the life of righte-
ousness?'* He held that no power of man, or of
education, of outward circumstances, or of inward
resolution^ could avail. What the soul wanted and
tnust have, was just what Christ and the gospel
offered — Divine power. And now, as nothing but a
true religion could bestow such an investiture of
the spirit, so the Realization of its mighty and
saving results in the spiritual nature was, in turn,
the most valid and effective of proofs that Christ is
the Son of God, and his gospel the word of truth
as well as of salvation. This position was main-
tained with a force and clearness in keeping with
the former part of the sermon. The usual flueticy,
elegance, and facility of the preacher, were on this
occasion merged in an extraordinary strength-^
even vehemence, which ranked the serttion among
the noblest specimens of pulpit oratory.
At the session of the South Carolina Conference
held in Augusta, January, 1827, Bishop Soule
preached a masterly sermon on the "Perfect Law
of Liberty." By a resolution moved by Mr. Capers,
aad secotided by Mr., now Bishops Andrew^ th<i
B^EFBKDS BISHOP SOtLS. 2«U
CtonfeTence unanimously and earnestly requested
its publication. When it appeared in prints it was
reviewed in a series of ai'tieles written by a Presby-
terian minister of some pretensions, and published
in the Charleston Observer. More ado was made
concerning this review than its actual merits war-
ranted. It was a palpably unfair attempt to convict
the Bishop of heresy — of holding a system of doc-
trine "dangerously and ruinously false!** The
gist of this false teaching was the proposition main-
tained by Bishop Soule, that mail, being redeemed
by the death of Christ, is not held obliged to the
performance of the Adaraic law, as a eonclitim of
life; but that his relations to God are so far affected
by the covenant of grace as that, instead of beifig
under the original laWj "Do this and live," the con-
ditions are now, "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and thou shalt be saved." This sound '4lM Meftrty
defined principle, underlying the whole scheme of
redemption by the sacrifice of Chriflt, was thought
by the writer in the Observe!* to be equivalent to
the proposition that "the gospel has released man
from all obligation to speak right, to thitik right,
or to feel right." And this was charged on the
venerable Bishop.
Mr. Capers and Mr. Andrew, under their proper
names, solicited, as an act of justice, the privilege
of b^ing heard in vindication of the Bishop's ser-
mon, in the paper which had assailed it ; but being
refused, they published a pamphlet containing six
letters to the editor of the Observer. These were
266 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
written by Mr. Capers. They were sufficiently
caustic. He was not given to dandling on the
knees of loving professions, opponents whom the
defence of his own Church called him to withstand,
point to point, and opinion against opinion. In
this case, the absurdities of the reviewer might
safely have been left to find their way into a speedy
oblivion. It may be remarked, however, that Mr.
Capers, though quick to resent what he conceived
to be an unjustifiable attack on the principles of
revealed truth, was yet far removed from the posi-
tion of a controversialist preacher. He agreed
with his friend Dr. Olin, in the conviction that
controversies about the opinions which divide the
Christian sects that preach and experience salva-
tion by the blood of the Lamb and through the
sanctification of the Spirit, are apt to be productive
of evil iBthet* than good ; that more is lost to kind
and Christian feeling than is gained to orthodoxy ;
and that when difterences of opinion cannot be
settled to the satisfaction of the litigant parties by
the Bible itself, the last appeal, it is not wise to
excite and perpetuate passions which are fatal to
Christian character, with the uncertain hope of
extirpating errors which the narrowest charity does
not regard as barriers to salvation. And there
have been few preachers of eminence whose min-
istrv was more catholic in its tone than that of Dn
Capers, or embraced a larger circle of admirers
beyond the pale of their own denominations.
In the autumn of 1827, the family of Mr. Capers
GENERAL CONFERENCE. 257
were visited by yellow fever. He was very ill for
several weeks; his brother LeGrand, and his
daughters Anna and Susan, being attacked at the
same time. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Capers was
taken down. The kindest attentions possible were
shown the afflicted family. Mrs. J. O. Andrew
took the youngest child ; Dr. Dickson, the family
physician, took the eldest son, Francis; both of
whom, by this kind intervention of attached friends,
escaped. By the blessing of God, all who had
been sick recovered. Mr. Capers, as soon as his
strength allowed, resumed his labors on the dis-
trict.
In May, 1828, he attended the session of the
General Conference, held at Pittsburg. On the
14th of May he wrote to Mrs. Capers as follows : —
"I have been greatly pressed with a solicitation
from many brethren to suffer myself to be con-
sidered a candidate for the place of Agent of the
Book Concern, insomuch that at one time I was even
induced to yield a reluctant consent; but to-day
I have strongly declined it, and think that I shall
be able with a good conscience to avoid the nomi-
nation, which had been pretty far concluded. The
prospect, however, is considerably on the other
side, of my being sent as the Representative of the
Church in America to that in Great Britain. No-
thing conclusive has transpired on this subject, but
you know the grounds on which I should not be
free to excuse myself, if the General Conference
elect me. Bishop Hedding, this day, took an
17
258 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
opportunity privately to explain why lie had pre-
ferred another ; and wa8 pleased to say that it was
not in the least owing to any want of respect for me,
but only because he thought my circumstances, as
the owner of slaves, would render my appointment
unpleasant in some sections where there exist
strong prejudices on the subject of such circum-
stances. Even if the General Conference should
put this duty upon me, I suppose I may be able to
see you before I go to fulfil it. There will be no
new Bishops made at this Conference. We move
very slowly in our business, owing to the great
number of members, say, one hundred and seventy-
seven, all of them speakers by profession, and
many very fond of talking."
It is proper to state that the General Conference
of 1824 had instructed the Bishops to choose and
appoint a Representative, and send him to the
British Conference in 1826. A meeting of the
Bishops had been held at Baltimore, in April, 1826,
and Bishops McKendree and Soule had supported
the appointment of Mr. Capers; Bishops George
and Hedding wished Dr. Fisk appointed. This
diflference of opinion had led to the postponement
of the election until the meeting of the General
Conference, when the subject was formally brought
up in the address of the Bishops.
The biographer of Bishop Hedding states, that
the ground of his objection was that Mr. Capers
was a slaveholder. He adds that the intelligent
reader will infer that "the aggressive movementa
ELECTED REPRESENTATIVE. 259
of slavery, which finally led to the disruption of the
Church, were not wholly without Episcopal sanc-
tion at a very early date." While it may require
some extraordinary intelligence to perceive how
slavery was making any movement at all, we are
willing to accept the fact that the senior Bishop of
the Methodist Episcopal Church, the venerable
McKendree, with his able and far-sighted colleague
Bishop Soule, did maintain as far back as 1826,
the equ/dity of the Southern ministry in the Con-
nectional union. If this was a pro-slavery move-
ment, then let it be observed that the General
Conference of 1828 endorsed the action and reasons
of the two Bishops by electing a slaveholder as their
Representative. The ingenuity of Quarterly Re-
viewers can readily distort this fact into another
proof that the Methodist Episcopal Church has
always been abolitionist.
On May 17th, Mr. Capers wrote the following
brief letter to his wife :
"I have been this day elected to the undesirable
distinction of being the Representative of the
American Methodist Church to that of Great
Britain. I could not decline being a candidate,
for reasons which you know ; and besides the im-
portant principle, involving the interests generally
of all the Southern preachers, I could not decline
because of the unpleasant dilemma in which it
would have placed those of the Bishops who had
BO perseveringly maintained my nomination. I
•till hope, but cannot even now be certain, that J
26a LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBES.
may see yoa before I go to England. If prac-
ticable, you may be sure I will go to Charleston
before I set out for Liverpool ; and if so, I shall be
m haste, and will probably be with you by the last
of the first week in June.*'
On the 19th May, he says: "I this morning
obtained the consent of the Qeneral Conference to
my absence during the remainder of its session,
with a view to my being enabled to go to Charles-
ton. I expect to take the stage for Baltimore to-
morrow night — no stage going earlier; will pro-
bably reach there on the night of the 23d inst. ;
and will then be governed by circumstances whether
I go by sea or land to Charleston. Our Conference
has been more harmonious than had been expected.
We have done little that affects the rules of Dis-
cipline; but I think the session now present has
done much of great importance to the Church in
her present circumstances.**
After spending a week or two with his family, he
sailed for New York, where he arrived on the 18th
June. Here he met Bishop George, obtained his
instructions, and engaged a passage to Liverpool
in the packet-ship "John Jay.** In a letter to Mrs.
Capers, he says : " I have received the kindest at-
tentions fretn all who have come in my way. Be
not jealous of me for saying this. My home is
in Charleston still. My children are there; and
above every thing and everybody else, my wife is
khera I wish I could give you but one more kiss
fci^cure I leave my eountry for a foreigu land» I
CORRBSPONDBNCE. 261
tiow can only tell you so ; and to-morrow I shall
not have the liberty of even so much as this. But
don't mind it. Remember your confidence in
prayer, and know that even here, where I am a
stranger, there are many and mighty prayers put
up for me. I wish you could have heard, last night,
how brother Waugh, concluding the service after I
had preached, prayed for me, and for you, and our
dear children also ; and how many loud aniens rung
through the church. I had a blessed day yester-
day— Sunday the 22d. My mouth was opened,
and my heart enlarged, and the large congregations
seemed to feel pretty generally a correspondent in-
tei'est in the services. As I said before, so let me
repeat : we know not what the Divine will may be ;
but let us lose ourselves in God, and we shall in-
fallibly come out on the right and best side. If
we fully purpose in our hearts that * whether we
live, we live unto the Lord, or whether we die, we
die unto the Lord,' he will take care, our conduct
being consistent, that *we live and die the Lord's.*
No accident, no danger, no enemies, can have
power over us ; but in all places and at all times,
we shall be wafe with Him.
* Jesus protects: my fears, begone 1
What can the Bock of Ages mote ?
Safe in thy arms I lay me down,
Thy everlasting arms of love.*
Only think, my dear, that the Lord of heaven and
earth should have come down to us in the form of
our species, and walked upon the water, to teach
262 LIFS OP WILLIAM CAPBBS.
Qs not to fear ! He who made the winds and seas,
will in answer to the prayers of his people, and fof
his mercy's sake, be everywhere present along the
whole course of our ship over the ocean, from New
York to Liverpool, and back again to Charleston.
He made the elements, and he controls them.
And even if it should seem good to him to stop our
progress, and bring us back no more, still you may
not say we were lost at sea — none can be lost in
God's hands. We are all mortal, and we all must
die. But with respect to myself, surely the ap-
parent danger of death is much greater in the
usual course of duty on the Charleston District,
than on the ocean. I feel a great desire, an earnest
longing, to be more fully given up to God, and to
be filled with the Spirit. Pray that I may be
brought into a state of deep and uninterrupted
communion with him. It is no easy matter for one
in so elevated and responsible a station as I am
now to sustain for a little while, and in such cir-
cumstances as I shall be put into on board ship
and in England, to acquit himself acceptably and to
the profit of the Church. Most truly I feel that I
am not suflicient for these things ; but blessed be
God, there is ample sufficiency even for me, in
Christ Jesus my Lord. To him, and him alone, I
would look for aid, and depend on him with con-
fidence for support. Bishop Hedding has just
come in to take tea with me. - The Bishop has put
up another heavenly prayer for us by name. What
a privilege this is ! — that even we are borne on the
i
OORRESPONDENOB. 268
hearts of so many before God, is surely cause for
thanksgiving. Perhaps a thousand faithful prayers,
or thousands of them, have been offered up, and
will be offered up, for us and our children, which
we never should have had but for the cross which
is now laid upon us. May God hear and answer
them for his name's sake."
tttia OF WILLIAM CAPBRB.
CHAPTER III.
Embarks in the *'John Jay" — Voyage — Reception in England —
Estimate of the leading Wesleyan preachers — Resolutions of the
British Conference in acknowledgment of the visit of the Ameri-
can Representative — Visits Dr. A. Clarke at Hajdon Hall — Re-
turn voyage.
Mr. Capers embarked, June 24th, on the John
Jay, one of the Liverpool "liners.** In the har-
bor oft* the lighthouse, he wrote to his wife the
following letter :
" I came down to the Battery this morning, at a
quarter before ten o'clock, and found Bishops
George and Hedding there, with a number of the
brethren ; among whom were Dr. Emory, brother
Matthias, Captain Wood, brother Dando, etc., all
waiting to take leave of me, and look after me, as
I should depart for the ship. I ought to have par-
ticularly mentioned brother Francis Hall, a distin-
guished member of the Church in New York, his
wife, and his son and wife, among the number of
those who put themselves to the trouble of a long
walk to show this delicate mark of respect and love
to the Representative of their Church — poor un-
worthy me ! Brother Hall has even come on board
the ship, and is going out to sea, to return with the
pilot, to have, he says, the last of my presence m
the port. By hin* I have an opportunity of send-
ing this to you. Several of the preachers came
down to the ship with me, in the steamboat from
the city to the quarantine ground, and returned by
the same conveyance. Well, I am now actually oft'
for Liverpool. Wife and children, friends and coun-
try are behind me. God is with me ; and with him
I must do well. The number of passengers is but
twelve, and there are but two ladies. The captaiu
has given me a proof of his kind regards, exchang-
ing my state-room for one in the ladies' cabin.
Here, in the best part of the ship, I have a splendid
little room to myself, large enough for my baggage,
a table, and a chair, where I may be as- private as
I please. This letter is written in it, and the
writing of it is my first employment on board ship.
Farewell, my dear, dear wife ; keep your heart from
fear and trouble. Expect me at home again, safe
and happy."
This farewell letter was forwarded by Mr.
Hall.
His next letter to Mrs. Capers was dated off
Dungaroon, on the coast of Ireland, July 15 :
"A voyage across the Atlantic ocean could scarce-
ly be made with more comfort and satisfaction
than I have experienced on th.e present one. We
have not had an hour's head-wind since we set sail
at New York ; and for a fortnight the weather was
so smooth that a common six-oared boat might have
been perfectly safe on the roughest water we expe-
266 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPBR8.
rienced. The last six days have given as a rapid
run, averaging nearly or quite tv^ haudred miles a
day; and tliis morning, at about 5 o^elock, we came
up to the coast of Ireland. We have been all day
gliding smoothly, with light winds, along her bean>
tiful shores, within full sight of lighthouses, forts,
towers, towns, villages, mansions, and fields of
lovely green, bordered out unth their fences of
hawthorn, like a vast garden covering all the
country. To-morrow will make three weeks since
I left 2few York, and behold I am actually here
already! I know that it is Ireland that I am be-
holding, and still I cannot realize that I am three
thousand miles from home. My voyage seems a
dream.
" Wednesday night, July 16. — We are now
going over on the English side of the St. George's
or Irish channel, and expect to see the coast of
England as early as it is light in the morning. The
coast of Ireland, along which we were sailing yes-
terday, and until 3 o'clock to-day, is beautiful be-
yond any thing you ever saw. Believe me, I felt
every hour a tender sense of interest in it that I
never knew before, because of its being the land
of your forefathers.
" Liverpool, July 17. — During the night we
crossed the channel, and this morning at 5 o'clock
were in view of the isle of Anglesea. I was for-
tunate in having a fair, fine day to come into Liver-
pool, and I improved it as well as I could to view
the coast from the north-western extremity of
— -1
ARRIVAL AT LIVERPOOL. 267
VTales to this far-famed commercial emporium.
Wales is nothing to compare to Ireland for beauty
along this shore. It generally presents rugged and
bare old fields covered over with rocks ; and it is only
in detached places that a few beautiful farms, clus-
tered on a better soil, show a highly cultivated as
well as a very old country. You never see wood-
land, either here or on the coast of Ireland, except
it be attached to some lordly estate as a pleasure-
ground or park. I really thought, when I looked
with enthusiasm upon the beautiful shores of
Ireland, that I could scarcely find it equalled in
England ; but the scenery along the shore of the
country from the river Dee to this place, and par-
ticularly that which lies on the Liverpool side of
the river Mersey, is beautiful beyond Ireland, and
beyond any idea that I could give you of it. We
arrived at the dock in Liverpool at half-past one
o'clock to-day, having made our passage in twenty-
two and a half davs from New York. We found
that the ship Helen Mar, the Majestic, the Olive
and Eliza, and the General Brown, from Charles-
ton, had arrived here before us ; and this deter-
mines me to return direct to Charleston, if I can
find a good ship, on my way home. I must here,
in gratitude and duty, set down the kind, friendly,
and obliging attentions which I have received from
Captain Holdrege. On all the voyage he was every
way a friend; and his attentions since we came
into port have been even more obliging, if possible,
than on board his ship. I think I said something
268 LIFB OF WILLIA.M CAPBBS.
aboat the ship before I left New York. I need add
no -more than just this : that a better vessel, oi h
finer one, I never expect to sail in. Our fare on
the passage was equal to the elegant and splendid
style of the ship. We had bread baked on board
every day, and that which was excellent; our din-
ner always consisted of several courses of meats,
served in the handsomest manner, desserts of vari-
ous kinds, and even fruits and nuts. Cider (just
such as I wa« dreaming of in the yellow fever) that
sparkled like champagne, various French and
other wines, porter, etc., were at all hours as readi-
ly at command as water. Indeed, there was every
thing that I could wish, and very much more. I
have not yet delivered my letters of introduction,
having put up for a time under the wing of Captain
Holdrege, and in company with several of my fel-
low-passengers, whose society has been one of the
pleasantcst accompaniments of one of the pleas-
antest voyages that could have been made by me
going so far from home.
" Liverpool, July 19. — Mr. Newton was most of
the day yesterday walking with me. I had stopped
at the Star and Garter Hotel until I should get
clear of the custom-house, before introducing my-
self to any one here. He was the first of our
brethren whom I saw, and immediately joined him-
self with me for the day, taking a great deal of
fatigue, with the kindest possible dispositions to
show me honor and to serve me. He would be
with me at the dock, at the custom-house ; secured
ATTBMTIONS IN LIVBRPOOL. 269
me aplendid accommodations, and dined with me,
at the dwelling of Mr. Sands, (a wealthy and very
respectable merchant;) procured such pecuniary
accommodations as I wanted, and, indeed, put him^
self, and would put himself, to a deal of trouble for
me. During the day and evening I have had the
pleasure of the company of several of the preachers.
This morning I would attend the preachers' weekly
meeting, but business and company yesterday and
last night hindered me from writing, and I must
be in time with this for the earliest ship, so I give
myself to my dear, dear wife. I could tell you
a thousand things, and will when I get homo
again. I am as happy as the richest and kindest
accommodations, and the most tender, respectful
attentions can make me, so far from home. But
what would I give just that you might know that
I am here in safety ! What would I give to be
again at my own plain home, with my business
here accomplished ! I must not indulge in this.
I know that you are anxious, and, perhaps, even
fearful. Let us trust in God, and we shall yet
praise him again.
"You see I have been writing to you ever since the
15th. I hoped then I might find an earlier oppor-
tunity. This is Saturday the 19th. On Monday I
will set out with Mr. Newton and Mr. Tobias for
London."
On Sunday he preached for the Rev. Robert
Kewton in the morning, and in the afternoon for
the Rev, Mr, 8cott. In regard to his sermons he
270 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
says : " I was much confused in the morning, but
less 80 in the afternoon. On the whole, I feel rather
more courage and composure than I expected T
should, and encourage myself to believe that I
shall do better as I get more used to my new cir-
cumstances. In private and social intercourse I
was never in my life more free, easy, and ready."
His next letter is dated London, July 24th :
" I left Liverpool in company with Messrs. New-
ton and Tobias on Monday last, the 21st, and
reached London on Tuesday evening. Our road
lay over the most beautiful country, perhaps, in the
world, for most of the way ; and, excepting ten or
twelve miles, we travelled over all of it in the day-
time. The part which we passed over in the night
lies between Wolverhampton and Birmingham, a
manufacturing district, where the whole country
smokes and blazes with innumerable furnaces. It
is remarkable that I should have had the night for
this part of the road, where there is little of the
elegance and beauty of the farming and grazing
districts which compose all the rest of the distance.
One thing only I regretted in it, (for under no cir-
cumstances could I have stopped to examine any
thing,) and that was, that Wednesbury, so famous
for its violence towards the first Methodist preach-
ers, lay just at this part of our road ; and, although
I passed directly through it, I could see but very
little of it. The blazing furnaces of this district
have a strong effect at night. The manufactures
are chiefly, if not entirely, of iron and steel. We
BEACHES LONDON. 271
reached Birmingham after 10 o'clock P. M., and
passed the night there. In the morning at 7
o'clock we set out for London, and reached here at
7 o'clock in the evening. I was received with
great kindness by Mr. Stephens, the President of
the Conference ; and having ascertained that Mr.
Newton and myself were to stay with Lancelot
Haslope, Esq., of Highbury Lodge, (the same who
now stands in the stead of the late lamented Mr.
Butterworth, as general Treasurer of the Mission-
ary Society,) we came to our temporary home in
the great metropolis without much delay.
"Yesterday I passed several hours with the sta-
tioning committee, who, it seems, do their work
before the Conference begins. Mr. Reece and Mr.
Hannah met me at the President's house with great
affection, Mr. Reece saying in his peculiar way, as
he pressed my hand long and tenderly, ' You know
I always wanted you to come.* I was introduced
by him, and shook hands with Mr. Bunting, Mr.
Gaulter, Mr. Edmonston, Mr. Entwistle, Mr. Wat-
son, Mr. Sutpliffe, and others. Mr. Moore, Dr.
Clarke, and others whom I expect soon to see, were
not present. Mr. Newton is the Apollos of the
Wesleyan Methodists as a public speaker, and par-
ticularly so on the platform. His manners are
very dignified, and yet exceedingly pleasant — con-
verses freely, is very witty and full of anecdote,
and is a finished gentleman as well as a very able
man. Such a forehead as Mr. Watson's, I never
looked at in my life. He is very thin and pale, with
272 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
a wan face, which looks even narrower than it
might, on account of the uuuaual size of his fore-
head. Mr. Wataon is rather above six feet high,
but I suppose he would not weigh much, if any
thing, more than I do. He is acknowledged on all
hands to be the ablest man in the Connection. I
would not have recognized Mr. Bunting from any
likeness I have seen of him ; indeed, he has too fine
an eye to paint. His eye and Mr. Watson's fore-
head surpass every thing. Mr. Bunting is a great
business man, and possesses an acuteness and quick-
ness which such an eye as his must indicate. He
is also very remarkable for his great superiority in
extemporaneous speaking — his words and sentences
always flowing as freely and gracefully off at hand,
as if they had been chosen and arranged with the
greatest care. He is all activity and energy in the
great cause of Methodism, and is certainly one of
the first of her sons. He is rather under height —
perhaps not more than five feet eight inches — and
is inclined to be fat. The likenesses of him hitherto
taken will, I hope, soon give way to a better one ;
as he is expected to succeed the present President
at the Conferouce about to be held, and it is a
custom to have the likeness of every President
taken. Mr. Edmonston, Mr. Entwistle, and Mr.
Suteliffe, particularly the two former, are also
among the leading men. They all three are aged
and venerable, with countenances of the utmost
benignity.
*' Friday, 25th. — It is really humbling to m© to
CORDIAL RECEPTION. 278
receive the free and fiill and affectionate attentions
which my present situation brings me, from men
80 long and so greatly venerated. I had not anti-
cipated it. I never can feel that I am an equal in
their presence, and yet I am beginning already to
feel more at ease, as I am more in their society.
This morning Mr. Reece introduced me to Mr.
George Marsden, one of the oldest, best, and most
respectable of this venerable body of men. As he
took me by the hand, his eyes melted upon th^
words, ' How happy I am to see a representative of
the Church in America!' I have not yet had an
opportunity to see much of London, owing to the
wetness of the weather, in part, but more to my
being occupied with the committees, and not being
able to go much abroad through this wilderness
world of a city, for fear of losing myself. It re-
quires great effort to keep my spirits up, my dear
wife — I cannot feel at home. I really feel to sigh,
in spite of myself, for the humbler scenes of South
Carolina. Still, I hope that I am enabled by God's:
grace to sustain the character, responsible as it i^j
in which I have been sent by the American Church,
so as not to lower the home and the Church I love
so well, in the eyes of any. I am exceedingly
anxious — too much so — and cannot be otherwise;
May God be with me. Truly, if I know my heart,
my eye is single, and always has been so.
" July 28. — To-day is Monday ; and on yesterday
I preached for the first time in this world of a
town. The appointment was made for me in the
18
8T4 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPSRS.
Oreat Queen Street Chapel, the largest an4 mail
■plendid huilding that I ever saw ae a M^tbodiat
church. No church of any order in ObarleatQU
can compare to it. Mr. H^ewton read prayefQi
which he does to perfection ; and I preached, ^
well as I could, on Rom. x. 15. My heart wfia
enlarged, and I had utterance for my feelings, if J
had not much mind. Mr. Reeo0, Mr. l^ewton, an4
many other preachers were there ; f^nd I am thaii]^-
ful to know that they were satisfied with it. 1%
was cheering to see tears in the eyes of sfioh a mau
as Mr. Newton. 'I felt,' said he to me ^fterw$krdf(,
< that your Master was with you.' Yep, trvily, Qo4
was with me ; and I trust he will he with me to
the end. 0, how earnestly do I throw myself wpon
his gracious assistance ! On Saturday I thought \\
advisable to make a sort of speech before the Pqq]^
Committee, on the subject of a complete fsdition of
Wesley's works ; and there also before the Presir
dent, Messrs. Bunting, Watson, Newton, Reece,
and many more whom I honor too much to speak
before without help, I spoke freely, and was heard
with much apparent interest, (cries of b^ar! hear!
being frequently uttered,) and, J bftye reason to
believe, to the satisfaction of the meeting. J ow^
very much to the goodness of these excellent mei^.
Surely, if I ever felt the least q^easure of Cbristian
humility, I feel it now."
Tb^ British Confer^ftoe wt^s opened oq tb^ 80th
^u|y, in the CJty Road Chapel. Mr. Buqtii^g wafi|
dieted PFesid^pt, and Mr? Jf^wton S^ret^QF,
«»<•
INTRODUCED TO THE GONFERSNOE. 27&
After the usual formalities, the Irish liepreseata*
tives were announced and their address read. The
President then expressed in handsome terms the
great pleasure he felt in having it in his power to
introduce a Representative from the United States;
and spoke in terms of high gratification of what he
had seen of Mr. Capers while present at their com-
mittees. Mr. Reece rose and said he had known
Mr. Capers in America, and loved him then, and had
loved him ever since : no one could do otherwise ;
and he knew they would find it so. The President
then, turning to Mr. Capers and calling him by
name, took him by the hand, and said, *^Moat
cordially, sir, do I, on behalf of the Conference,
extend to you, as the Representative of the Method^
ist Episcopal Church in America, the right hand
of fellowship.'* Mr. Capers, with a feltering voice,
made suitable acknowledgments. The scene was
one of interest, and produced a strong sensation in
the Conference.
The impression made upon Mr. Capers by the
prominent men of the Wesleyan Connection, will
be best gathered from his own words :
"On Sabbath morning I heard a wise and
good sermon, at City Road Chapel, from the ex-
President; in the afternoon one from Mr. W. Mr
Bunting, at Great Queen Street Chapel; and in
the evening one from President Bunting himself.
The President is the finest preacher I ever heard,
I was sitting on the platform just by Mr. GauUer ;
and as soon as the service was closed^ Mr, Gaultei
276 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPEKS.
said to me, * We have no man in the Connection like
Mr. Bunting ; he is far the best pattern for a young
man that we have. From first to last he aims
simply at winning souls; and he does win them.*
This testimony, so honorable to Mr. Bunting, com-
ing as it does from one of the present fathers of the
Connection, is well deserved. He uses very little
gesture, and seldom employs metaphor; but with
a countenance expressive of great earnestness, and
fluency of speech beyond any one I ever heard, he
sweeps along with a full and overflowing tide of
golid argument, in neat and simple language. In
all his sermon (which was an hour and a half long)
I could not detect the slightest inaccuracy. The
difference between my friend iSTewton and Mr.
Bunting, is almost as great as that between a.
popular orator and a first-rate preacher ; and yet
Mr. Newton is not only an orator, but an able man,
and an excellent preacher also.
*' To-day I am to dine with Dr. Clarke. The
Doctor is one of the coarsest-looking men I ever
saw, to be any thing like civilized or learned. He
is strong-built, and fleshy; would probably weigh
not much less than two hundred pounds ; is about
five feet nine inches high. His hair is as white as
cotton, and he wears it turned back over his head.
It is very thin. He has full eyebrows, as white as
the hair of his head. His mouth is very broad ;
lips thick and prominent. Has the Irish pronunci-
ation as perfectly as if he was just from their pot^^tq'
fields — such as sowl for soul, and sacretary (or secrft-
-1
ORGANS. • 373
tary. His utterance is rapid, and his languagie
always clear, strong, and simple. His face is very
red, as if the blood might gush out of it. It is
quite striking to an American how indifferent
people here seem to be to the correct pronunciation
of their language. Mr. Bunting excepted, I cannot
admire the pronunciation of any of the preachers J
have met with. And to hear such a man as Mr.
Watson say continually, noledge, acnoldge, for know-
ledge, etc., and stud, understudy etc., for stood,
understood, and the like, is surprising indeed.
They seem, generally, to cleave to their country
provincialisms. Certainly they could avoid them
if they would try.
"Some of the larger chapels are finished very
magnificently in comparison with the best we have
in America; arid organs are frequently used in
them. Even the City Road Chapel looks not very
like what one might expect in a house built by
John Wesley. There is no organ, however, in this
chapel. It seems that Mr. Wesley had no objection
to organs ; and certainly most of the present
fathers, if they do not greatly admire th6 use of
them in public worship, have no objection to their
use, except on the score of expense. Hundreds of
pounds are annually raised for the purchase of organs.
Pity that these sums were not applied to anothei
use. Dr. Clarke is a great enemy to organs. I
happened to be sitting by him when a question
involving an organ was before the Conference.
•Have you organs among you in America?' said
2T6 ' LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBRS.
he to me, privately. 'No, sir/ I replied. * Theft/
he rejoined, ' keep the organs and the devil out.*
There had been a serious dispute in one of the
societies about an organ."
The Conference commenced on the 30th July, at
six o'clock A. M. About four hundred and fifty
preachers were present ; and the session lasted till
the 18th of August, when it was concluded, at nine
o'clock P. M., as it had been commenced, with
solemn, fervent prayer, by several of the older
preachers. The visit and addresses of Mr. Capers
were acknowledged in the following resolutions,
unanimously adopted :
^^Besolved, 1. That it is with the most cordial satis-
faction, and with sincere gratitude to God, that this
Conference has heard the interesting commilnica*
tions now made by the Rev. William Capers^ re-
specting the extraordinary work of God carried on
by the instrumentality of the Methodist Episcopal
Church in the United States of America.
" 2. That the Conference receives with unfeigned
pleasure the assurances conveyed by Mr. Capert
of the decided and increasing attachment of the
ministers and members of the Church he repfesentSj
to the doctrines and general discipline of Method-
ism, as preserved in the writings of our venerable
Founder; and of their unabated affection to the
|)reacher8 of the British Conference. And this
Conference does most cordially assure the Atiieri-'
can brethren, that the sentiments of Christidb
love tad esteem expressed by them are perfeetly
YIBI9 TO HATBON HALt. ST9
reciprocal on the part of every member of thid
body.
'* 8. That the cordial thanks of this Coiiference
are due to the General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church in America, for the appointment
of their excellent Representative, Mr. Capers, whose
amiable manners, devout spirit, and acceptable
ministry, have greatly endeared him to the preach-
ers now assembled, and confirmed their feelings of
respect and d.ttachm<Bnt towards their American
bi^ethren at larger
"4. That the watroest thanks of the Conferenee
are hei^eby prfesentfed to Mr. Cap^rS^ for the great
i^bility^ Christian spirit^ and brotherly kihdness^
with Which he hais discharged the duties of his
honorable mission; and the Conference bespectfulljr'
asstite him^ that theif* most fervent prayers for his
welfare will attend him oil his return to his natite
Cotintry, and that he Will long retain a high plao^
in their affectionate remembrance."
On the 22d August, .two days before Mr; Capers
took his final leave of London^ he fulfilled an en-
gagement pi'eviously made with the venerable Dr.
Adam Clarke^ to spend a short time with him
at his seat, Haydon Hall^ fifteen miles from the
metropolis, ite gives the following interesting
aceouut of this visit :
"My friend^ the universally esteemed Joseph
/tayior^ accompanied me, and we spent a most
pleasant afternoon and night under the roof of the
Doctor. No one can be more perfectly unbent than
280 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPEICS.
Dr. Clarke in the company of his friends* Whether
in his library, with his ancient manuscripts, which
he employed several hours in showing us — ^Arabic,
Syriac, Saxon, etc., almost without number; or
with the many curiosities he has collected in his
museum ; or in his garden ; or the chapel which he
has fitted up out of his barn; or showing us and
feeding his pony, or the dunghill cock and hen
which he brought with him on his return from a
recent visit to the Shetland Islands: his whole
manner is as easy, playful, and familiar as can be
conceived ; such as in turn would equally interest a
scholar or a child. While at table, the cocked-hat
he used to wear was mentioned. He said he used
to wear a slouched hat, but Mr, Wesley did not
like it; ^;nd after saying vaguely something on the
sutject, he oiice said in Adam's presence, *If a
Methodist preacher shall come into my company
with: a slouched hat on, I will take it a« an insult.'
* This alarmed me,' said the Doctor, 'so I straight-
way got me a cocked-hat.' Then leaving us
without ^saying why, he went for his hat, and pre-
sently coming in with it on his head, he saluted ug
with great humor, bowing profoundly, as if not only
to* show the hat, but ajso the younger manners of
the wearer of it. A similar piece of humor was
exhibited the next morning in his study. His be-
ing descended from an honorable Scotch family by
the maternal line, had been mentioned ; and while
I was atnusing myself with a rare book, he stepped
out, and presently returned, wearing the bonnet of
DR. ADAM OliARKB. 281
nis house, (the house of McLean,) a blue woollen
cap, with ostrich feathers at the left side, fastened
with a small device of silver. After this he intro-
duced himself with * the bonnet of his clan ;* a cap of
thick woollen, fitting close to the head, the lower
part plaided of red and white, the upper part blue,
with eagle feathers fastened with a device of silver,
different from the other. All this was done in per-
fect play.
" The Doctor's circumstances are very easy. The
country-seat where he lives is his own. The
house is of brick, rather ancient, but large and
commodious, well built and well furnished ; with
an extensive lawn in front and in the rear, with
elegant walks, gardens, shrubbery, etc.^ after the
English fashion. The room which you first enter
is curiously ornamented with numerous ancient
insignia, and various curiosities of Eastern and
African nations, etc., etc. There are two rooms
appropriated to his library and miuseum, besides
his study, which also is of considerable size, and
is lined with shelvea closely filled with books and
manuscripts, from the top to the bottom. My
friend, Mr. Taylor, conjectured that his library and
museum together might probably be worth thirty
thousand pounds.
"His Royal Highness, the Duke of Sussex, is
particularly fond of Dr. Clarke, and passes one day
annually with him, at Haydon Hall. The Doctoi
told me it was about the time for him to expect
tJiis yearly honor, but that his visit to Shetlaadj
282 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPEB8.
and the business of the Conference, had prevented
his making his respects to the Duke^ to know when
it might suit his convenience to bestow it. The
Doctor is often at the Diike*s, who is fond of be-
ing entertained with biblical criticism.**
Four years after the visit just described, Dr.
Clarke died.
Mr. Capers visited, of course, the principal poitits
of interest in London — the Thames Tunnel, the
Royal Exchange, Blackfriars* Bridge^ the palaces,
parks, and the like. Of St. PauFs he says: *' No-
thing I had ever imagined could equal my amaze-
ment. The awful length and breadth and height !
This cathedral beggars every thing I ever had be-
held. The echoes give a constant rumbling through
Its lofty arches that alone might make one feel a
sense of dread. The monuments are noble and
imposing ; but there is not one to celebrate a vic-
tory, either by land or sea, over the ^rms of the
United States.**
'*FrDm Westminster Hall^ we w^nt to West-
minster Abbey ; and this, of all things and places
in England, is, 1 suppose, the best worth seeing.
The entrance is at the Poet's Corner. And thence
through numerous compartments filled with monu-
ments of statesmen, knights, nobles^ warriors^ and
kings, you are coridueted by one who has ah in-
terest in it, and who explains eVery rfemarkable
tnonument throughout the whole labyrinthine piles
It is soletnn even to awfulness to go through thi#i
place* The majesty of the building is surpassed
k -w. i •■ •—
LSAVB-TAKIKG. SM
only by St. Paul's. We could not get through be-
fore the afternoon service was commenced^ The
place of worship, however, being distinct from the
rest of the Abbey, we were not interrupted; and
after we had gone mostly through the Abbey, we
entered the chapel and took some part, if indeed if
can be called part, in the service. There were but
few persons present; and I could not but think
that in that awful place there appeared less of de-
votion than I ever saw in a poor log-cabin meeting-
house in America: so little can the parade and
pomp of circumstance do for religion ! Having
heard, indistinctly, part of the afternoon service
read, and listened to the pretty little Westminster
boys chanting the Psalms, we concluded our in-
spection of the monuments, where we had begun
it, namely, at the Poet's Corner.**
On the 26th August, Mr. Capers left the elegant,
hospitable Highbury Lodge, and the far-famed
mammoth city of London, never expecting to see
either of them again* He was engaged to take
breakfest at Mr. Taylor's at half-past eight o'clock,
and the stage-coach for Oxford at nine. The part-
ing scene was touching. "At seven o'clock all the
family were in the library (one hour before their
usual hour of rising) to spend the last moments
with me, and bid adieu. Mr. Haslope asked tne
to pray with them ; after which I took leave, not
as a stranger would take leave of strangeri;, but as
ft friend bidding adieu to beloved and honcir^sd
Meods. Mr. H. had ordered the coach, and aecclilis>
284 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
pauied me to Mr. Taylor's, where we breakfasted
together, and then went to the stage-office. I could
not finally leave London, and especially I could
not take a final adieu of Mr. Haslope and Mr.
Taylor, without feeling much. I have been a
month in Mr. Haslope* s family, a stranger, a
foreigner, during which time I- have had every
mark of respect that could have been shown a most
honored guest extended to me. More than this :
respect, even in this short time, has ripened into
affection ; and I have been unceasingly, of late,
gratified with the tenderest proofs of it. Notliing
has been wanting from every member of the family
to show their affection for me. I never knew a
more amiable or happy family; I never knew
one to whom, in so short a time, I felt so much
attached."
This testimony is alike honorable to host and
guest. Mr. Capers possessed rare social qualities —
genial warmth, quick sympathy with every gene-
rous and noble trait of character, , rich conversa-
tional power, and the ease and finish of elegant
manners. He was fitted not only to shine in the
higher circles of London society, but to attract
genuine esteem and affection. That the Haslopes
should have taken him to their hearts is not won-
derful. In them he saw a model specimen of the
oultivated, refined. Christian, English family. The
abolition mania had not then spread its fanatical
virus over British society; nor was it considered
that an American Christian gentleman had no ri^t
ENGLISH ANTI-SLAVERY. 285
to the courtesies of society if lie had the misfortune
to come from South Carolina.
Allowance should undoubtedly be made for the
present anti-Southern feelings of our British cousins.
It was not until the session of the Wesleyan Con-
ference in 1830 that the subject of the abolition of
slavery in the West India colonies was formally
taken up by the Conference. Only about twenty
years previously, Great Britain had put an end to
the slave-trade, after having kept it up in full play
for two hundred and fifty years^ and filled not only
the West India islands but the American colonies
•
with enslaved Africans. And it was not until 1834
that the British Parliament abolished slavery in the
West Indies, The policy, enterprise, and ships of
England planted the institution in the Southern
States. England is the mother, the dry-nurse of
the system ; and to this day the slave-raised cotton
of these same States keeps up a large portion of
her manufacturing industry. Considering all -this,
it is not matter of much surprise' that her late-born
abolition zeal should approach the limits of the
farcical. How appropriate, for instance, is it that
this zeal should show its abhoiTence of a two-
hundred and fifty years* policy and profits by de-
clining all fraternal ecclesiastical intercourse be-
tween its now immaculate self and the Southern
American churches around which that very policy
planted the germs of existing servile institutions !
The charm of consistency in the whole thing is re^
freshing.
386 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBRB.
Xt was the goo<} fortune of Mr. Capers to visit
Great Britain before the times were changed. He
was reeeivecj with the utmost cordiality, and with
unbounded kindness. The General Conference
was thanked for the appointment of so " excellent
s^ representative." His Christian, devout spirit,
no less than his "great ability,*' was noticed in
formal resolutions. In fine, the Wesleyans had
not reached that point of progress at which "con-
nection with slavery" was the unpardonable sin.
He left the shores of Albion in the odor of
sanctity!
After leaving London he visited Oxford, and
saw Mr. Wesley's room in Lincoln College : Kings-
wood, and made an address to the sons of the
preachers there ; Madeley, and preached in the barn
where John Fletcher's voice had so often been
heard. The curate, Mr. Cooper, took him through
the vicarage-house, garden, church, etc. ; and be-
fore they parted asked Mr. Capers to pray with him
in the room where both Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher
died. He spent a Sabbath at Manchester, wenib to
Jjeeds, Edinburgh, Glasgow, thence to Belfast and
Dublin, and back to Liverpool ; from which port
he sailed for Charleston, early in October. The
voyage home lasted forty-five days: a length of
time almost fabulous in these days of ocean
steamers. One storm after another pelted the poor
"Lady Rowena.*' Spars were splintered, sails
torn, the ship's cow was battered to death ; they
saw the "compesants,'* fire-balls at the masthead;
— ^
THS RETDRN HOMB. 287
And witnessed the rush of a waterspout which
passed with furious bellowing within two hundred
yards of the ship. Mr. Capers held Divine service
every Sabbath, for the most of the time *' all sitting
and holding on.'* With a joy language cannot
depict, and with t]ae devoutest gratitude to God for
so many mercies, he returned to his own dear
family circle, after an absence of nearly six
months.
iv ni
'488 LIVE OF WILLIAM CAPBB8.
CHAPTER IV.
Inyitation to go to Baltimore — Missions to the blacks established-^
Results of these missions.
On his return from England, Mr. Capers immedi-
ately resumed the duties of his Presiding Elder's
office. The membership on the Charleston District,
as reported at the close of the year 1828, amounted
to three thousand four hundred and ninety-two
whites, and five thousand nine hundred and seven-
ty-seven colored. Soon after the session of the
Annual Conference, Dr. T. E. Bond, of Baltimore,
opened a correspondence with Mr. Capers, to ascer-
tain whether he could be prevailed upon to take
a transfer to the Baltimore Conference. Mr. Ca-
pers, in reply, adverted to several grave difficulties
in the way of such a project. Dr. Bond, in a letter
bearing date February 27th, 1829, undertook to
obviate these difficulties. One of them was that
Dr. Capers was a slaveholder. It had been under-
stood that the good old Baltimore Conference had
defined its position on this vexed question ; and
that, while it tolerated slaveholders among the
membership of the Methodist Episcopal Church, it
had set its face against having a slaveholder among
INVITATION TO BALTIMORE. 289
the travelling preachers. This Mr. Capers consid-
ered, of course, a bar to any further negotiations
on the subject. As one of the curiosities of eccle-
siastical diplomacy, it may interest some of our
readers who recollect Dr. Bond's after-course as
editor of the Christian Advocate and Journal, and,
in particular, his attacks on Dr. Capers personally,
as a slaveholder, to see an extract from this letter
of February 27th. The following paragraph is a
faithful copy from the original : '* The friends who
united with me in reference to the suggestion made
in my last, have very carefully considered the ob-
jection you so frankly make to our proposal. But,
after mature deliberation, they do not entirely ac-
cord with you in the opinion that your transfer to
this Conference is unsuitable. In the first place,
your apprehension that your being the owner of
slaves, under the peculiar circumstances of the case,
would operate to your disadvantage, is, we think,
a mistake. If you cannot free them where you
live, and circumstances render it improper to re-
move them, as we understand is the case, we speak
advisedly when we say, that your being so unfortu-
nate as to be encumbered with slaves will not be in
the way of your usefulness in Baltimore.*'
Must not strange ideas of ecclesiastical unity ob-
tain in a connectional Church which permits a
domestic institution, such as slavery, to exist in
one portion of its geographical territory, under the
full sanction both of disciplinary statute and pub-
lic opinion, and, in another portion, condemns the
19
290 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERB.
aame institution as not only sinful but infamous ?-^
wliich allows in laymen, family and civil relations
which in the case of ministers become at once viola-
tions of moral law? — which, consequently, holds
to a variable rule of Christian morals, adjusted by
a sliding scale — one thing to one man^ and alto-
gether another to another man? — which asks,
"What shall be done for the extirpation of the
great evil of slavery?" and answers the question
by distinctly permitting it to exist within one half
of the ecclesiastical enclosures? — ^which deplores
a "connection with slavery" as a terrible calamity,
and all the while keeps in its communion, as
brethren beloved, ministers and laymen who hold
slaves ? K it be said that this is an evil, in the
eye of ecclesiastical laWj only as poverty or bad civil
government is an evil, what has the Church to do
with it ? If an evil in a mo!*al and religious point
of view, in other words a sin, how then can the
Church, the guardian of public morals, tolerate it ?
These questions never have been answered. The
whole case is perfectly anomalous. And far back
of the General Conference of 1844 must be traced
the germ of connectional separation, Which came
to maturity in the action of a majority of that
body, in the cases of a Baltimore preacher a&d a
Georgia Bishop.
Mr. Capers declined, of cours^^ all otertures to
remove from the South Carolina Confei'ence, al-
though in the negotiations very liberal offers of A
pitettaiary sort were made him» He had, i^deed^
-1
MISSIONS TO THE BLACKS. 211
been compelled to use, of his own small patrimony,
at least three thousand dollars beyond the means
allowed him for the support of his family, in the
service of the Church. Pecuniary embarrassments
began to give him some distress of mind ; but as
soon as this was known to his friends on the dis-
trict, a handsome amount, fully covering what was
understood to be his liabilities, was immediately
made up, principally in the Black Swamp and
Orangeburg Circuits, and presented to him in the
kindest and most delicate manner.
The year 1829 is memorable as the period of the
inauguration of a great movement in the Southern
portion of the Methodist Church. Two missions
to the plantation-slaves were established, one to the
blacks south of Ashley river, to which the Rev.
John Honour was appointed missionary ; and the
other to the blacks on Santee river, who were
served by the Rev. J. H. Massey as missionary.
Mr. Capers, in addition to his regular duties as
Presiding Elder, had the honor to be appointed
Superintendent of these missions. In the autumn
of the preceding year, after his return from Eng-
land, Mr. Capers was waited on by the Hon.
Charles G. Pinckney, a gentleman who had a large
planting interest on Santee, to ascertain whether a
Methodist exhorter could be recommended to him
as a suitable person to oversee his plantation. Mr.
Pinckney stated, as the reasons for this application,
Mr. Capers's known interest in the religious wel-
fkre of ike colored population, and the fact thut
292 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
the happy results which had followed the pious en-
deavors of a Methodist overseer on the plantation
of one of his Georgia friends, had directed his at-
tention to the subject. Mr. Capers told Mr. Pinck-
ney that he doubted whether he could serve him in
that particular way, but that, if he would allow
him to make application to the Bishop and Mis-
sionary Board at the approaching session of the
Conference, he would venture to promise that a
minister, for whose character he could vouch fully,
should be sent to his plantation as a missionary ^
whose time and efforts should be devoted exclu-
sively to the religious instruction and spiritual wel-
fare of his colored people. To this proposal Mr.
Pinckney gave his cordial assent. Soon after. Col.
Lewis Morris and Mr. Charles Baring, of Pon Pon,
united in a similar request. These were gentlemen
of high character, who thus took the initiative in
a course of missionary operations which may just-
ly be termed the glory of Southern Christianity.
They were members of the Protestant Episcopal
Church, but availed themselves of the earliest
opening which the peculiar itinerant organization
of the Methodist Church afforded, for furnishing
religious instruction to their slaves at the hands of
men deemed competent and safe in the judgment
of Mr. Capers.
The position of the plantation negroes on the
river-deltas of the low country is peculiar. In this
malarial region very few white families are found.
Churches are, of course, very scarce; and apart
OONDiTlOK or THE BLACKS. 293
from special arrangements made for the religious
improvement of the blacks by the planters, there is
no access, in many instances, to any of the agencies
of the organized Christianity of the country.
Originally brought from Western Africa, the most
ignorant and degraded portion of the realm of
Paganism ; enslaved, many of them, in their father-
land ; victims of debasing superstitions ; what re-
cuperative element was there to be found in their
condition ? That inscrutable providence of God,
whose march through the centuries is apparently
slow but with unerring tread and in the right
direction, seems to have overruled the cupidity of
the British slave-traders, and allowed an exodus
of hundreds of thousands of Africa's children to
the shores of this country, where, under the mild
form of servitude known in the Southern States,
they contribute to the feeding and clothing of the
world, and are at the same time environed with
the light and saving influences of Christian civiliz-
ation. Unfit for political freedom, unable to
govern themselves ; put by color and caste, as well
as by intellectual inferiority, beyond the possibility
of any future absorption into the dominant white
race, their condition requires but one additional
element to render it, in their present circumstances,
in the South, the best that appears attainable by
them — and that is religious instruction, adapted
to their mental capabilities. Much has been said
or "shrieked,** by traders in philanthropy, con-
cerning the "chatter* into which the negro has
294 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
been transformed by Southern legislation. The
fact, however, remains unaltered, that Southern
law considers the slave a persoriy treats him as
possessed of ethical character, and protects him as
fully, in his place, as it does his master in his.
And public opinion freely concedes that moral
capabilities and an immortal destiny righteously
demand moral cultivation, religious opportunities
— in a word, the gospel, which is the chartered
right of the poor, and the precious boon of the
"bond** as well as the free. The master is under
obligation to have his servant taught the duties he
owes to God and man. This is one of the respon-
sibilities involved in the relation between the
parties; and from this responsibility there is no
escape while the relation exists, and while the
sanction of the New Testament is claimed for it.
We have related the circumstances under which
the experiment of a system of religious operations
among the plantation negroes of South Carolina
began. Mr. Capers made regular visitations to
the two infant missions during the year. On the
11th September, Mr. Honour, who had charge of
the one to the south of Charleston, took sick from
bilious fever contracted by exposure in the swamps
where his mission lay. On the 19th of the same
month, after "witnessing a good confession before
many witnesses,'' he triumphantly concluded his
mortal life, and entered into life everlasting. Thus
the very outset of the enterprise cost the life of a
missionary. But this sacrifice furnished proof thai
QUB8TI0N OF ABOLITIOKIBIC- S9S
the heroic spirit of the ancient faith was not yet
extinct in the Church; and that Methodic
preachers knew how to die at their posts, though
these might lie among the rice-fields and negro-
quarters.
Mr. Capers continued to feel to the time of his
death an unahated interest in this missionary
work among the hlacks of the low-country plan-
tations. He was called upon in 1836, in view of
the growing excitement at the North on the vexed
question, to present, in the Report of the South
Carolina Conference Missionary Society, the posi-
tion held by the Conference on the subject of
abolition. This he did in the following terms :
"We regard the question of the abolition of slavery
as a civil one, belonging to the State, and not at all
a religious one, or appropriate to the Church.
Though we do hold that abuses which may some-
times happen, such as excessive labor, extreme
punishment, withholding necessary food and cloth-
ing, neglect in sickness or old age, and the like,
are immoralities, to be prevented or punished by
all proper means, both of Church- discipline and
the civil law, each in its sphere.
" 2. We denounce the principles and opinions of
the abolitionists in totOy and do solemnly declare
our conviction and belief, that whether they were
originated, as some business men have thought, as
a money speculation, or, as some politicians think, for
party electioneering purposes, or, as we are inclined tp
believe, in a false philosophy, overreaching ^aU
296 lill'E OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
setting aside the Scriptures, through a vain conceit
of a higher refinement, they are utterly erroneous,
and altogether hurtful.
" 3. We believe that the Holy Scriptures, so far
from giving any countenance to this delusion, do
unequivocally authorize the relation of master and
slave: 1. By holding masters and their slaves
alike, as believers, brethren beloved. 2. By en-
joining on each the duties proper to the other. 3.
By grounding their obligations for the fulfilment
of these duties, as of all others, on their relation to
God. Masters could never have had their duties
enforced by the consideration, ^your Master who
is in heaven^' if barely being a master involved in
itself any thing immoral.
" Our missionaries inculcate the duties of ser-
vants to their masters, as we find those duties
stated in the Scriptures. They inculcate the per-
formance of them as indispensably important. We
hold that a Christian slave must be submissive,
faithful, and obedient, for reasons of the same
authority with those which oblige husbands, wives,
fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, to fulfil the duties
of these relations. We would employ no one in the
work who might hesitate to teach thus ; nor can
such a one be found in the whole number of the
preachers of this Conference.'*
Nearly a generation has passed away since the
commencement of these missionary operations
among the blacks. It is interesting to trace their
expansion and results through a quarter of a cen-
tury. That there has been a large development is
proved by the statistics published from year to
year by the Missionary Society. In 1883 two
additional mission stations were established. In
1834, they numbered six ; in 1836, eight ; in 1836,
nine ; in 1837, ten ; and ten years afterwards, viz.,
in 1847, there were seventeen missions, served by
twenty-five efficient preachers of the Conference.
At the death of Bishop Capers, there were twenty-
six missionary stations in South Carolina, on which
were employed thirty-two preachers. The number
of Church members at that time was 11,546 on
these mission stations. The missionary revenue
of the Conference had risen from $300 to $25,000.
These are very substantial results, so far as sta-
tistics go.
Beyond all this, several important consequences
may be observed. That the religious sentiment of
the country should be directed, clearly and strongly,
in favor of furnishing the colored population with
the means of hearing the gospel of their salvation,
and of learning their duty to God and their accounta-
bility in a future life, is a very cheering aspect of
the whole subject. The history of these missions
brings out the fact that the Christian minister has
been welcomed on the plantations ; that chapels
have been built; liberal contributions been fur-
nished by the planters; master and servant are
seen worshipping God together : the spirit of Chris-
tian light and love has reacted upon the one, while
it has directly benefited the other. How important
13*
298 LIFB OV WILLIAM CAPEES.
i« tt growing public sentiment which shows itaelf
iu such aspects as these !
We may notice, moreover, the positive influence
of Christianity upon the negro population. The
gospel is a message intended for all men. It takes
up, in its grand generalizations, the bond as well
as the free. Its oflfer of salvation is meant to be
irrespective of all outward conditions. That it
should be preached to all classes of men, is the
distinct and clearly revealed will of God, and,
therefore, matter of duty and obligation to the
Church, Now, if nothing more had been accom-
plished than the meeting of this solemn responsi-
bility, that would have been doing much. Success
is with God ; duty is for us. And so, too, it w^re
matter of special thankfulness with every right-
minded master, that, in the peculiar relation sus-
tained by him to his slaves, it had been in his
power to welcome and aid the Christian minister
in preaching Jesus and the resurrection to his de-
pendents, even though no visible fruit of holiness
appeared as the result. But beyond all this, it is
confidently believed that Christian influence has
made itself felt in the conscience, conversation,
and life of thousands of the blacks. A vast deal
of ignorance has been in the way, on the part of
the old negroes ; many superstitious notions, many
fixed habits of immorality, have opposed barriers
to the entrance of the word of God to the inner
man. The improvement on the part of the younger
generation h^s not been as extensive as their oppor-
SU00ES6 AMONG THE BLACKS. 290
tnnities of instruction. Where^ indeed, shall we go
to find, as yet, the universal sway of Christianity ?
And where is that community in which it has been
allowed to cure all the evils of man's nature?
While, however, it is not claimed that any very
extraordinary success in the conversion of the
blacks has crowned the exertions of the missiona-
ries, it will hardly be denied that, in many instances,
and on all the mission stations, the force of Chris-
tian truth, and the power of Christian motives, and
the renewing influences of the Holy Ghost, have
been felt. It is obvious that much of the instruc-
tion given in the ministrations of the missionaries
must, of necessity, deal in the first principles of
Christian truth ; must, to a large extent, be adapted
to an humble grade of intellect, and a limited range
of knowledge ; and must make its impression by
constant and patient reiteration. This is precisely
what is doing all the time. No romance surrounds
such a field of labor; it lacks all the elements
which stir the enthusiasm of lofty minds ; it is, in
the highest degree, a work of faith, demanding
the patience of hope and the labor of love. But
now and then a gleam of light breaks out : some
death-bed scene in the lowly cabin of the negro-
quarter attests the power and glory of the gospel.
Instead of the stupid indifference of a semi-brutal
nature, or the frantic moanings of a terrified super-
stition, the missionarj^ witnesses the calm confi-
dence of a faith which leans on the bosom of Jesus
—the Man of sorrows — the Son of God ; and which
dOO LIfE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
trusts his merits for salvation in a crisis that baffles
the proudest reason, and prostrates the loftiest self-
righteousness.
But, furthermore, it is worthy of notice that, in
connection with regular preaching, the catechetical
instruction of the young negroes is constantly at-
tended to. This is uniformly done orally. These
"little children** are brought to Christ. Is it say-
ing too much to affirm that of many such is the
kingdom of heaven ? Christian nurture thus grows
with their growth. Correct ideas of God, of duty,
of the relations of time and eternity, of human ac-
countability— ^the foundation-principles of Chris-
tian character and life — are laid in the earliest
years of these catechumens. All true and trust-
worthy morality, in all classes of society, and par-
ticularly in the class now specially referred to,
springs from these germs. Beginning with the
nascent growth of the intellect, the system has
demonstrated the entire practicability of the moral
improvement of the African. The lessons im-
printed on the mind of childhood may be neglected
and their authority spurned in after life, as in the
case of others in different circumstances, but they
can never be forgotten. They cling to the mem-
ory; they haunt the conscience; they whisper in
the still small voice ; they work valuable restraints;
they furnish salutary directions ; they inspire hopes
connected with the soul's best interests ; they form
a life-long testimony for God and goodness, and
against sin and its fearful retributions in the life to
SUCOESS AMONG THE BLACKS. 801
come. It would be singular, indeed, if this im-
plantation of moral elements and vital forces, in
the very formation of character, should lead to no
observable good results in the deportment of the
plantation-negro. It is true, that to look for moral
results in the absence of moral causes — for honesty,
fidelity, industry, sobriety, kindliness, and self-
restraint where no moral instruction has been im-
parted— would be a's absurd as to expect to reap
where there has been no sowing. But such an
absurdity is not involved in the present case. The
bloom of spring and the fruits of summer are not
anticipated where the tree is severed from its root.
The moral nurture is given, and we have a right to
anticipate appropriate and salutary results.
In point of fact, a gratifying degree of success
has crowned these efforts. The testimony of mas-
ters and missionaries goes to show that a whole-
some effect has been produced upon the character
of the negro population generally. A change for
the better is visible everywhere, when the present
generation is contrasted with the past. And in
how many instances the gospel has proved the
power of God to salvation, and presented before
the throne the spirits of these children of Ham,
redeemed and washed " by the blood of sprinkling,'*
and fitted for an abode in heaven, the revelations
of the last day will disclose. Results such as these
lie, of course, beyond the track of mortal observa-
tion. But if these ministerial labors have indeed
been instrumental in developing and directing
S02 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPER8.
aright the sentiment of religion ; the capability of
knowing God so as to fear him; of guiding to
Christ, and ultimately to heaven, any number of
these docile and lowly but yet immortal beings,
for whom redemption was provided in the sacrifice
of the Son of God, then they deserve to be reckoned
among the noblest triumphs of missionary patience
and zeal; none the less important that they lie at
homey nor the less noteworthy m contrast with the
turbulent, malign, and desolating frenzy at the
North, which, making the civil and social relations
of this class of our population the pretext^ has
broken up Church associations, carried politics
into the pulpit, and is pushing the miners and
sappers to the very foundations of the Federal Union.
Looking from his death-bed at the peaceful progress
of that system of operations for the religious in-
struction of the slaves of his native State which
Dr. Capers had been instrumental in setting on
foot, he might well have said :
"Deus nobis hsec otia fecit."
900T0R OF OIVINITT. 808
CHAPTER V.
Elected Professor in Franklin College — His own humble apprecia-
tion of his scholastic abilities — Severe illness — Castile Selby —
Stationed in Columbia — Correspondence with Dr. Cooper.
In November, 1829, Mr. Capers was elected Pro-
fessor of Moral Philosophy and Belles Lettres in
Franklin College, Georgia. The appointment was
made before any consultation had been held with
him. It was the result of the high appreciation in
which his character and talents were held in Geor-
gia. He declined the professorship, however.
About the same time the degree of Doctor of
Divinity was conferred upon him by the Trustees of
Augusta College, Kentucky. In reference to this,
he made the following statement, a year or two
afterward, to Dr. R. Paine: "The title was con-
ferred on me without my knowledge, by a young
college, and one of our own ; and out of delicacy
toward the college, as well as that a great deal was
made out of Mr. Beman and Mr. Cox's having de-
clined the same title about the same time, I thought
it best to be silent; but I must confess I have
never been quite satisfied with myself in that
matter."
The reader id aware that bad health had pr^
304 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
vented the completion of Dr. Capers's college train-
ing. In the ceaseless, miscellaneous duties of a
travelling preacher he had found little opportunity
for severe, systematic study. He was far more a
man of vigorous, original thought than a man of
books. He appreciated high scholarship, and his
taste was exquisite ; but he made no pretensions to
a learning which nothing but years of patient,
laborious study can bestow. Genius, withal, has
some perilous gifts in her dower — ^vivacity, fluency,
quickness of apprehension, and opulence of fancy.
These are too often depended on in youth, and
made to supply the place of that mental drill which
alone carries the powers to their complete and
ultimate development, and makes the intellectual
character teres et rotundus. The subject of this
memoir was a man of action, a man of keen and
quick observation, of profound and original reflec-
tion ; he was indebted to books for but little of his
distinction. Had he been a hard student, it can
scarcely be questioned that his mental grasp would
have been wider, and his influence greater.
In the autumn of 1830, Dr. Capers had a severe
attack of illness, taken while attending a camp-
meeting in the Cypress Circuit. After a sick night
he set out at the break of day on Monday morning,
hoping to reach his home in Charleston that night,
a distance of fifty miles. He drove the whole dis-
tance without stopping for refreshment. On his
arrival he was nearly exhausted ; and when Mrs.
Capers made some exclamation of surprise at hia
— »■- XJiWx*.
DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 8U5
looking 80 ill, he said, " I am feeling badly, but
my poor horse must be attended to." While he
was in the yard superintending the rubbing of his
horse, and giving directions for the proper care of
him, Mrs. Capers sent for the family physician,
Dr. Dickson, without his knowledge. When the
Doctor came, he expressed the pleasure he always
felt at meeting him, but regretted that his wife
should be so easily frightened. " I am very glad
she has sent for me,'* Dr. Dickson replied; "for
there is no time to lose in your case." He was
immediately put under active treatment; but so
violent was the fever that for several weeks his life
seemed to hang in the balance, when a feather's
weight on the fatal side would have terminated his
course of usefulness on earth. Every possible atten-
tion was showed him, and a deep and general soli-
citude was felt for him in the community. As the
crisis of the disease approached, he expressed a
calm but firm reliance on Christ; he spoke in
touching terms of his unworthiness ; gave, as was
supposed, his dying- charge to his sorrowing wife,
and his last farewell to his weeping children.
There was not the rapture and exultation which
marked a former illness, when he requested Mrs.
Capers to write down, as he dictated, the following
couplet :
" 0 may I joy in all his life,
And shout the Cross in death !"
"Give me the paper," he said; "I wish to draw a
line under the words,
20
306 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAP£]lS.
**And shout the Croat in, death,**
repeating the expresaion several times. But pa
the QceasioQ uow describing, more of solemn awe
eaxd calm confidence in the Redeemer, than of
rapturous exultation, marked his spirit. Mrs.
Capers was kneeling at his bedside, with one of
his hands clasped in both of hers. The present
writer, then stationed in Charleston, stood at his
head bathing his forehead with ice-water, when a
venerable African, Castile Selby, one of the holiest
and best men of the colored charge in tjie city, a
class-leader of long standing, and highly respected
by Dr. Capers, came into the chamber of death.
"I am glad to see you, Father Castile,*' said Dr.
Capers: "you find me near my end, but kneel
down and turn your face, to the wall, and pray for
me; and all of you pray." Castile's prayer was
memorable ; full of humble submission to the
Divine will, but full of pleading, mighty faith in
the great Mediator. He asked of God, the giver
of life, that the life of his beloved pastor might be
spared to the Church. This prayer was memorable,
too, in its immediate results. The first words from
the sick minister after its close were: "I feel
better." Shortly after. Dr. Dickson made his
morning visit, and pronounced the crisis pa«t. A
rapid convalescence ensued, and he was soon in the
pulpit again.
The account given of Henry Evans, of Fayette -
ville, by Dr. Capers in his Recollections, has been
read, no doubt, with interest. We are able tp prer
CASTILB SELBY. 807
Mnt, through the kindness of the Rev. U. Sinclair
Bird, several interesting particulars of Castile
Selby, written for him by Dr. Capers. He became
acquainted with Castile in 1811. He says of him:
" I can call to mind no other person of our colored
society of that early day, who, of nearly Castile's
age, was esteemed as much as he, though there
were some very worthy men among them. The
weight and force of his character was made up of
humility, sincerity, simplicity, integrity, and con-
sistency ; for all which he was remarkable, not only
among his fellows of the colored society in Charles-
ton, but, I might say, among all whom I have ever
known. He was one of those honest men who
need no proof of it. No one who saw him could
suspect him. Disguise or equivocation lurked no-
where about him. Just what he seemed to be, that
he invariably was — neither less nor more. Add to
this a thorough piety, (which indeed was the root
and stock of all his virtues,) and you will find ele-
ments enough for the character of no common
man ; and such was Castile Selby. Let me men-
tion some particular characteristics which distin-
guished him. I notice his love of order — order,
not in the sense of regularity only, but of a prime
law of society, giving to it symmetry, consistency,
and permanence. It was evidently a ruling prin-
ciple with daddy Castile. Not only was the house
he lived in, and the few inferior articles of furniture
which it contained, kept in order, that is, clean and
to rights, but there was order in that old tarpauljn
308 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
hat, and well-patched linsey-woolsey coat^ which
marked the old cartman as he tmdged the streets
from day to day, with his old bay-horse and well-
worn cart, hauling wood. And then there was order
in that clean, unpatched, but still linsey-woolsey
coat, and that blue striped handkerchief tied about
his head, in which he was to be seen at the house
of God, morning, afternoon, and evening, on the
Sabbath day. And I will add that a love of order
had a ftiU share in his seeming indifference to cold
and wet, plying his cart as diligently in inclement
weather as if it had been fair and pleasant. If I
ever knew a man who was so completely satisfied
with his condition as to prefer no change whatever,
that man was Castile Selby. His dwelling might
have been better, his apparel better, and he might
have relieved himself of much fatigue and exposure,
but he deemed it unbecoming. On these and kin-
dred subjects I knew his feelings well, having had
much conversation with him, and telling him
plainly that I thought him wrong. But I could not
convince him, while he satisfied me that he was
governed by a sense of duty, the fitness and force
of which he was better prepared to judge of than
perhaps I was. For example : Noticing the mean-
ness of his clothing, and expressing a fear that it
might not be comfortable, 'No, master,' he has
said, 'these old clothes make me quite comfort-
able. They just suit my business, and so they just
suit me.' Remarking on his Sunday clothes, that
he might improve them a little, 'Ah, sir,' he has
CASTILE SELBY. 809
answered, * don't you see how our colored people
are turning fools after dress and fashion, just as if
they were white ? They want somebody to hold
them back. I dress for my color. And besides
that, master, how can I take what the Lord is
pleased to give me to do some little good with, and
put it on my back V
" But it was his indefatigable industry, not allow-
ing of a reasonable suspension of his labors in bad
weather, which most frequently induced our friendly
disputes. For a number of ^^ears occasion was fre-
quently oflFered for these ; and though I never could
convince him, and he persevered in his habits to
the last of life, I seldom let an opportunity slip
without some words of remonstrance. I wish I
could give you an exact representation of some of
these disputes. Exact I could not make it, and yet
I think I can call up what may interest you. Let
me try :
" ' "Well, well, Father Castile ! Out again in the
rain with that old coat ! Why in the world will
you expose yourself so? And are not your legs
swelled, even now?'
" 'Ah, master, I thought you would scold if you
happened to meet me. But no matter, master;
the rain won't hurt me, I am used to it.'
" ' But it wiU hurt you ; it micsi hurt you. And I
dare say those swelled legs came by just such
exposure as this. You ought to be at home ; and
do pray, now, go home and keep yourself comfort-
able.'
810 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
" < For your sake, sir, I would go home, but
several families are looking for me to haul them
wood to-day, and I miiat not disappoint them.'
" *And who will haul them wood after you have
killed yourself?*
" ^I won't kill myself, sir; I have been used to this
all my life, and use, as you know, is second nature.
I never find myself any better for lying up. But,
Afiaster, a*n't you out too ?'
" 'Yes, I am ; but it is only for a little time, and
I am fully protected ; but here you are regularly at
it for a day's work, with no protection from the
weather but your hat, and that threadbare blanket
overcoat. You really ought to go home. Think
you that the second nature you talk about can
make an old infirm man like you young again?
You can't stand it. Father Castile, and you ought
not to try to stand it. Do pray go home.'
" *Ah, master ! They say, " Better wear out than
rust out." There are too many lazy people rusting
out, for me fo lie up because it rains a little. By-
and-by they'll say, " Castile is lazy too ;" or " Cas-
tile is turned gentleman, and can't wet his foot;"
and what can I say ? If they are negroes, so am
I. If they ought to work, I ought to work too. I
can't help working, master, and I don't want to
help it. It is the lot it has pleased God to give me,
and it suits me best.'
*'As the infirmities of age increased on my old
fKend, while his habits of continual industry seemed
indomitable, I became anxious about him; and
CA&TILE SELBY. 811
after conversing with several of our brethren, and
finding them of my own mind with respect to him,
I determined to adopt a course which I supposed
must prove effectual. I told him that while his
long course of holy living had made him friends of
the principal members of the church, who shared
with me the kindest feelings for him, and were
more than willing to provide for all his wants, it
placed him in a position with respect to the colored
society which we thought required, both for him-
self and them, that his time should be differently
employed from what it had been. We were fully
pef-suaded that it was our duty to rescue him from
his cart, and put it in his power to employ all his
time in a way which we believed would prove more
to the glory of God ; and that was, (while he should
be able to go about,) to visit the sick, aged, and
infirm, and look after the flock generally, praying
with thetn, and doing them all the spiritual good
in his power. For his comfortable support during
the remainder of his life, such and such reliable
gentlemen would pledge themselves, I would pledge
myself, and the stewards of the church would see
that he lacked nothing. *N"ow, my old friend,*
said I, ' we want you to * sell your horse and cart
immediately, and use the money as you think pro-
per I you shall want for nothing ; and let it be your
only business to help all the souls you can to
heaiven.* lie received this proposition with pro-
fouiid Sensibility and many thanks ; but could b^
liiduced only to add that he would think of it. H
812 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
was just before my journey to attend General Con-
ference; and on my return to Charleston, I had
scarcely reached my door before I saw Castile
Selby, just as aforetime, seated on his throne, the
old cart. *Ah, master,* said he, 'the very thing
you would do for me to make me useful, would
hinder more than it would help me. It would make
some envious ; some would call me parson, and say
the white people had spoiled me ; and nobody
would take me to be the same Castile I have always
been. There is nothing better for me than this
same old cart.* "
At the beginning of the year 1830, the South
Carolina Conference was divided, the Georgia Con-
ference set off, and the Savannah river made the
dividing line. At the close of the year Dr. Capers
completed his quadrennial term on the Charleston
District. During the four years there had been an
accession to the membership of the Church within
the bounds of the district, of one thousand one
hundred and forty-nine whites, and two thousand
two hundred and forty-nine colored.
His next station was Columbia. It was soon
found that the crowds attracted by his eloquent
preaching made it necessary to have a larger church.
Arrangements were accordingly made for the erec-
tion of a brick edifice, of which, in the course of
the summer, he laid the corner-stone.
Dr. Thomas Cooper was at this time the President
of the State College at Columbia ; a man of large
scientific acquirements and vigorous intellect, but
DR. THOMAS COOPER. 818
understood to be skeptical in his opinions on
religion. The fortunes of the college were waning
under his administration, as Christian sentiment in
the country arrayed itself against an institution
which, it was feared, was becoming the arida nutriz
of infidel principles. This probably gave addi-
tional exasperation to the learned President, and
shai^ened the edge of his invective against the
clergy. Early in May, Dr. Cooper sent a copy of
his last Commencement address, printed and pub-
lished at the request of the senior class, to Dr.
Capers, accompanied with a polite letter in which
he said : ** I feel desirous that my invectives against
a money-seeking, hireling ministry, may not be
understood as applying to the ministers of the
Methodist persuasion, whose very moderate re-
ceipts, as a pecuniary compliment from their con-
gregations, have never been considered by me in
the light of a compensation ; and because the ambi-
tious projects of some of the clergy to establish a
union between Church and State (of which, I regret
to say, I have undeniable proofs) are by no means
participated in, or in any degree approved, by the
leaders of your persuasion. When I find myself
mistaken in this opinion, my present respect for
the Methodists will be greatly lessened. At pre-
sent, I hope and believe, they are fully deserving
not merely of my personal approbation, for their
praiseworthy and quiet demeanor, and absence
from all political intermeddling, but they have
earned also, and enjoy, the respect and approbation
14
814 LIFE OF William capers.
of the public. With John and Charles Wesley,
and the two sons of the latter, I was well acquainted
in my eariy day, and a visitor in the family of the
latter. During my occasional intercourse with that
great and good man, John Wesley, I was fully
persuaded, from much personal observation, that he
received from his hearers food and clothing and a
horse, and no more. I knew his habits, and I
know, too, that he died in circumstances fully con-
firming his oft-repeated declaration, that if he left
behind him at his death more thaii ten pounds,
when his funeral expenses were paid, the world
might consider him a thief and a robber. A sect
organized by such a man, so thinking and so
acting, ii3 not likely to be over-anxious either for
wealth or power.*'
The letter concluded with sincere assurances of
goad-will and great respect.
Dr. Capers made suitable acknowledgments in
reply ; but took occasion, with becoming respect,
to suggest that it appeared to him that the public
would be apt to consider the invectives of the
address as levelled against the clergy of all sects ;
and that against a pvi^lic implication it might be
improper fo^ him to acknowledge a private exemp-
tion, further than as a compliment to an individual.
To this Dr. Cooper replied : "I do not see how I
can publicly express my opinion that a hireling
ministry is a t^rm not applicable to the teachers
and preachers of your persuasion ; but you are at
fell liberty to use my letter as you see fit."
LETTER TO DR. COOPER. 816
In a subsequent letter, Dr. Cooper expressed him-
self frankly in. respect to his own religious opin-
ions. He thought that the leaning of the doctrines
of Jesus Christ, and the Apostle John, was in
favor of those opinions : whether they could be
reconciled to the notions of St. Paul, "the great
corrupter of Christianity,** as he thought, he could
not affirm. His opinions, at least, had cost him
much hard study and anxious inquiry.
The following admirable passage closed a long
letter, in return, from Dr. Capers: "With respect
to your opinion of Christian doctrine, I have
nothing to remark in the way of controversy. I
am fully persuaded that neither metaphysics nor
logic ever made or can make a true Christian.
The way to Christ, who is the Saviour of all men,
must be level and accessible to all. ' Jesus answered
and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven
and earth, because thou hast hid these things from
the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto
babes.* And again : * If any man will do his will,
he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God,
or whether I speak of myself.* I forbear a quota-
tion from St. Paul; but allow me to express my
regret that you should consider him 'the great
corrupter of Christianity.* Alas, sir, ' if the found-
ations be destroyed, what can the righteous do V
Suffer me thus far, and let me add, out of an honest
heart., the following sentiments. Of all men,
merely man, who have ever lived, I most admire
that one, who (the plenary inspiration of the
816 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
apostle aside) gave the highest evidence of a
disinterested and unlimited devotion to the will of
God and the good of mankind ; who followed the
light of Heaven without faltering, though it led
him to a distance from every worldly interest, to
take for his daily fare hunger and thirst, bonds and
imprisonment, stripes, stoning, and death ; and
who, more than any other, was honored of God as
an instrument of spreading abroad the unsearchable
riches of Christ/'
HISS JANB A. FAtrST. <(17
CHAPTER VI.
Miss Jane A. Faust — Miss Maxwell — An awakening sermon — Rhymes
— Dr. Capers removes to Charleston — General Conference of 1882
— Is offered the Presidency of LaGrange College.
In the circle of young, admiring, loving friends
whom Dr. Capers drew around him in Columbia,
was one whose preeminent worth, intellectual and
moral, won a high place in his esteem — Miss Jane
A. Faust. His preaching and conversation were
eminently adapted to impress a mind like hers.
The sentiment of admiration deepened into a
serious concern for her soul ; and she was led to
Christ, and found peace in believing. She became
a communicant in the Methodist Episcopal Church
in the course of the next year, under the ministry
of the Rev. Josiah Freeman, for whom also she
felt a very high regard. Dr. Capers, a few years
after her death, published in the Southern Chris-
tian Advocate a couple of brief elegiac poems,
written on the occasion of her early and lamented
departure, by her friend Mrs. Martin ; prefacing
them by describing Miss Faust as one "who
possessed and exercised, especially in the latter
years of her brief and lovely life, the highest quali-
fications for making one's friends happy.** He ex-
918 LIFE OF WILLIi^M OAPBRS.
pressed his admiration of " her genius, accomplish-
ments, sweetness of spirit, devotion to her friends,
and piety towards God;'* and added: "Miss Faust
never made a book — she shrank from publicity —
but I have known no one whose conversation or
letters were superior if equal to hers."
From such a source, this is high praise ; but it
was well deserved. Miss Faust's mind was by
native endowment of the highest order; and it
was developed by early, careful, and varied culture.
Racy, sparkling, and full of animation, her con-
versation possessed a charm for every listener. Its
excellences were so peculiar that a public speaker,
desirous of fashioning his style upon the best
models, might have cultivated her society, on the
principle which induced Cicero to resort to the
company of the noble and refined Roman matrons,
to perfect his mastery of the Latin tongue. The
fascination of her manners and the grace of her
carriage were in keeping with her "winged and
winning speech.'* Her eye shone with the clear
light of a serene intellect ; and her face was radiant
with the beaming of sincerity and pure-mindedness.
Her look indicated warmth of heart, and steady
resolve, as though she could stand for the truth,
like Abdiel,
" Amidst revolted multitudes, alone."
In her religious experience she was ever watchful
lest well-formed opinions should be mistaken for
gracious feelings, and a correct judgment of things •
be allowed to pass for an active principle of piety.
MISS JANE' A. FAUST. 919
Her faith in Christ rested on an intelligent perr
ception of the fact that in the circumstances of
moral defection which environ the human race,
merit is an impossible plea; that the sinner must
be saved by grace ; and that this grace is " through
the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." Away
from all conceit of self-righteousness, her spirit
hasted to the sanctuary whose altar yet retains the
fragrance of the sacrifice " once offered*' by the
"Victim Divine,'* and whose foundation was hewn
from the "Rock of Ages.*' The strength of her
piet}*^ was tested, and its loveliness illustrated,
amidst manifold physical sufferings. In the flower
of life consumption did its fatal work. In the last
letter she ever wrote, when too feeble to converse
with the kind friends who waited upon her, and
watched the advance of the shadow of deatq, and
with strength scarce sufficient to guide her pen,
she said : " There seems to be much physical suffer-
ing in store for me ; but it matters not, if Christ be
mine. Washed and sanctified by his Spirit, (if at
last it should be,) the struggles of frail mortality
will not affect the homeward bound of my reno-
vated spirit. Sometimes I am so weary of myself
and sin, so ' tempest-tossed and afflicted and not
comforted,' that I long to be at rest. O for a full,
unwavering trust in Christ for salvation from all
sift ! Feeble as my faith is, how precious does the
blood of Christ appear — how sweet the hope of
pardon he has purchased for us !" A week or two
after this, on the evening of January 2, 1834, she
820 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
entered into her everlasting rest. With perfect
composure of mind, with the exclamation, " Bound-
less mercy, full and free !** whispered forth again
and again — her bodily sufferings all ended — death
gently loosed the bonds of the frail tabernacle, and
set free the immortal spirit to find a congenial
home in the abodes of light and bliss, where reign
for ever sceptred Mercy and enthroned Love.
Do we feel to wonder why powers and capabili-
ties such as these should just appear and then
vanish ? Are we surprised that excellence of the
highest order, fitted to enrich and adorn human
society, the embodiment of one's pure ideal beauty,
should pass away in its freshest morning bloom ?
that some bright particular star, the cynosure of
every .admiring eye, should suddenly disappear like
the Iddt-Pleiad ? The intuition of reason, which
cannot I deceive us in such a case, is that a prepa-
ration so elaborate, a prelude so magnificent, can-
not thus end, but must have a fitting completion.
What that completion is, and where we are to find
it. Revelation has unerringly taught. Heaven is
the magnet which has drawn to itself all this early
loveliness and excellence. The celestial bowers,
where live the loved and lost, supply the congenial
atmosphere for the expansion of these high and
holy qualities. From the city of God, the long-lost
friends of our youth wave a welcome to us ; — is it
saying too much, to add, that probably they will be
the first to greet our approach ?
When Mary poured the spikenard over the head
MISS MAXWELL. 821
of Jesus, the testimoDial of an adoring love which
counted nothing too costly, the tribute of a vene-
ration which recognized the Lord of glory in the
"Man of sorrows,** Jesus said: "Wheresoever this
gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there
shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told
for a memorial of her.*' Let this page be, in its
humble measure, a memento of one of Mary*s own
sex, as lovely, perchance, in person, with a sensi-
bility as tender, an intelligence as quick, who
exercised faith in Jesus, while Mary had the evi-
dence of sense; who possessed the consummated
truth and blessing of the gospel, while Mary stood
only at the brightening dawn ; who poured out the
fragrance of her heart's most precious affections at
the feet of the same Jesus ; saw in him the face of
infinite beauty ; found in the mystery of his tran-
scendent love the theme of loftiest thought and
ever-adoring delight; and to the last throb of
consciousness trusted her all in his hands — then
passed on into the upper sanctuary, to the bright-
ness and rapture of the vision for ever.
Among the young lady friends of Dr. Capers in
Columbia, was another who owed much of her
religious impressions to his instrumentality — Miss
Maxwell, now Mrs. William Martin. Her own
account of the first sermon she heard from him is as
follows: "His text was the sixty-seventh Psalm,
entire. Now, for the first time, I heard preaching
with the hearing ear. The sermon was a beautiful
paraphrase of the Psalm. Never, till this evening
21
dS2 LIFB OF WILLIAM eAPBBS.
at church, had mj mind so realized the might,
inigesty, and grandeur of that God, 'glorious in
holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders/ What
a new gospel it appeared to me, so full of benefi-
cence, love, and mercy! I had listened to dis-
courses of learning, eloquence, and fluency before,
but never before heard the message that went
straight to my heart. I felt it was for me. That
message I must hearken to and obey. It was im-
perative on me to do so. Woe was me, I felt, if I
regarded it not. Before, I had been convinced of
sin, but the impression had been vague, and had
proved evanescent. Now I felt that the matter
between me and my God must be settled at once
But my mind was still much clouded, my views
confused, my thoughts perplexed. The minister
of that evening was, providentially, a guest at the
house of a mutual friend in my immediate neigh-
borhood. Frequently it was arranged that I had
the opportunity of conversing with him touching
those tbings that would make for my peace. How
beautifully he smoothed, and simplified, and
softened all, till my difficulties were removed, and
my way was clear to follow Jesus in the regene-
ration !"
This lady has kindly furnished the following jm
(Tesprit from the pen of Dr. Capers. It was in
answer to a poetical letter, written on the eve of
the Doctor's departure from Columbia, and bears
date, Charleston, February 17, 1882 :
f
f
r*(
MISS MAXWELL. S2S
" My dear Margaret : — You must not be grieved
that the lines you put into my wife's hand so kind-
ly, when I was leaving Columbia, and one other sim-
ilar provocation, should rouse me a little. Some of
you good girls have such a propensity to mischief,
that one can hardly get along with you without
fetching a slap now and then. I remember to have
given Jane (Miss Faust) a sound box once for
something she said — actually struck her a blow
on the shoulder — and she thanked me for it, * be-
cause,' said she, 'I know you are not vexed with
me, or you would not slap me.' As for your part,
I dare say this same black and white box I am
giving you will be returned by a courtesy, and you
will have impudence enough to tell me I like to be
flattered, or I would not take the trouble to dis-
claim it. Well, who knows but I do like to be,
when it is done so decently as by Miss Maxwell ?
But I forewarn you, you are not to make a poetaster
of me. A poet I cannot be made by both of us
together. The Fates, if there be any, do positively
forbid it. It is a great eflfort to put rhymes of my
forming into gifted hands — or even into any hands
at all — and yet I believe some very clever men have
been guilty of some very prosing rhymes.
" Yours affectionately, W. Oapsbb.'
'< I always haye heard that affection was kind,
And now I've discoyered she also is blind ;
Pats out her own eyes that her heart may be free
Tcimagine perfections she never coidd
fft
824 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS,
'Tis strange, I confess, but 'tis certainly true,
(I owe the discovery, Margaret, to you,)
I have proof upon proof of it, rife and at hand,
That might challenge belief all over the land.
There lived where / lived a girl of your name, •
And so like yourself she might pass for the same ;
A very good girl, and a girl of much wit.
Except where I'll tell where she showed not a bit.
This same clever girl had a friend whom I knew,
A friend as like me as she was like you ;
A well-meaning man, and a preacher withal,
Who, besides being honest, claimed nothing at all.
Except the rare luck, if luck it might be,
To have friends among folks that were better than he.
Of these — and indeed they were many and true —
Was the girl I have mentioned as so much like you ;
And, as was the person, her friendship, I ween.
Was just like the friendship that joins us between ;
That same hearty feeling of feeling at heart.
For better or worse, each to take other's part.
• ••••••
The good man was bald, but a complaisant whim
Could convert even baldness to beauty for him ;
For his hair had but fallen in grace to his head.
That a wreath of Parnassus might grow in its stead ;
And the Muses were there with their pencils of fire,
And cymbals, and lutes, and the sweet-sounding lyre.
To crown with a glory, and chant to the skies,
Whom, think ye? — Alas for the sight of blind eyes!'*
The two following years were spent in Charles-
ton. In April, 1832, he took ship for New York,
m route to Philadelphia, the seat of the General
Conference, to which he had been appointed one
of the delegates of the South Carolina Conference.
The following are extracts from his correspondence
with Mrs. Capers :
GBKERAL 0 0 K S" fi R fi KC.B. 826
" New Yoek, April 26, 1882.
''After as pleasant a passage as a reasonable
man might hope for, we arrived here this morning.
On the way, and till now, I have had no symptom
of my complaint, (neuralgia,) and my general
health is very good. I suffered, however, with my
unsteady head during most of the voyage, and as
much, nearly, as on my first voyage at sea. The
preachers were very sick for the first two days, ex-
cept brothers Dunwody and Bass, who were not
sick at all, but did justice to their stomachs from
first to last. English and Sinclair suffered most.
We had no storm, nor, indeed, any rough weather.
The wind, when ahead, was moderate, and for
three days we had almost a dead calm. I am
writing this in Bishop McKendree's room, at the
house of brother Francis Hall. The Bishop is as
well as I have seen him for a long time. I have
nothing more worth telling, just now having
landed."
" Philadblphia, May 1.
" The General Conference commenced its session
this morning, and has entered upon business under
favorable circumstances. Bishops McKendree,
Soule, and Hedding are with us. Bishop Roberts
has not yet arrived, but is daily expected. Brother
Andrew and myself are most delightfully situated
at brother Longacre's, (the distinguished engraver,)
who, and his charming wife, are most kindly and
affectionately careful of us in all respects. You
dS6 LIFfi OP WILLIAM CAPEBS.
will not expect me to give any important informa-
tion respecting the transactions of the Conference
for some time yet. I cannot even conjecture what
may be done. With respect to any thing that may
be thought of respecting myself, I will do all I can
with a good conscience to come back to Charleston
and Carolina as I left ; holding still my motto,
' Let me be little and unknown,
Loved and prized by God alone.'
It is possible some efforts will be made to place me
in the Book Agency. But as I am not fashioned
on a business model, I can, with a good conscience,
excuse myself. I eat enormously, sleep soundly,
and am growing fat; indeed, I never felt myself in
better health, though perhaps I have been stronger
than at present.*'
"Philadelphia, May 12.
" Since my last we have not carried through
much business to its final termination ; but much
has been brought into Conference, and is under
consideration. The resolution I drew up at home
respecting the regular and full publication of the
pecuniary transactions of the Annual Conferences,
so far as relates to the deficiencies of the preachers,
and the widows and orphans of preachers, has
passed without opposition. The Committee on
Bibles, Tracts, and Sunday-school Books, adopted,
and have reported, a series of resolutions which I
prepared; and, what is gratifying, without one
word from me in support of them. I feel pretty
0BNERAL COKFERENOB. 82T
30iifldeQt I shall escape all other honors but that
desirable one of helping some little towards the
accomplishment of the business of the Church on
which we are met. I have it not yet in my power to
say how many Bishops we shall elect, or who will
be the men. It think it pretty well ascertained, or
at least enough so to authorize a guess, that if but
one Bishop be elected, he will be brother Andrew
or Dr. Emorv. If two, these will be the men.
But if three, the guess for the third is uncertain.
Most of the Northern brethren say they consider
we ought to have a Bishop at the South, and will
vote for brother Andrew on our recommendation
as the man. With respect to having a paper at
Charleston, I think the chance rather doubtful.
But I am glad to say there is a good prospect of
getting brother Durbin as editor of the Christian
Advocate and Journal, in whose hands the paper
will not be liable to any objections from the South.**
** Philadblphia, May 18.
" I WRITE this chiefly because I know you will
look for frequent information respecting my health,
which was never better than at present. With re-
gard to the Conference, you would probably feel no
special interest in the acts we have passed since I
spoke of it, except, perhaps, a vote for making two
additional Bishops. Who they will be, we yet
know not. The expectation, however, is in favor
of brothers Andrew and Emory. I fear the speech-
making fever, which I hoped, but in vain, would
328 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
subside as the Conference progressed, may protract
oar session to the close of the month almost. If
any appointment should be urged upon me at this
General Conference, it may possibly be the editor-
ship of the Advocate. That, at least, is one which
I judge most important to the South, and to which
fewest objections on a personal account might be
made. Tou are not to expect I shall be put into
this editorship. Expect the reverse, and that old
Charleston, good old Charleston, will be our place
for awhile. It may occur, however, as a pos-
sible event, if it appear that we cannot get a suit-
able man, with kind feelings towards Southern
interests, that I may have to go to New York.'*
** Philadelphia, May 21.
"In my last, after telling you that you might
dismiss all apprehension of my being put into the
editorship at New York, I had to say that such a
disposition of me was not altogether impossible^
though I believed it altogether improbable. I have
all along maintained the course I had taken, to
keep myself aloof from any thing like a disposition
to seek, or a readiness to accept, any situation in
the election of the General Conference; and still I
think I shall escape, and get back to my own dear
South Carolina as I came. But during to-day,
there has appeared a disposition to press me a
little, and I have had to say to our delegation from
South Carolina, that if they, who knew best how
to judge of the necessity, or otherwise, of my re-
BISHOPS ANDREW AND EMORY. 8^9
maining in South Carolina, thought, after due de-
liberation, that I might be more usefully employed
for the Church at New York, they might speak of
me as they judged proper. I do not expect to be
put into the place, and the less because I have not
been sooner put forward ; or, as I ought rather to
say, my name has not been, for as to myself ^ I am,
and expect to be, wholly withdrawn from every
thing like a movement towards such a disposition
of myself."
"Mat 22.
" We have just finished the election for Bishops.
Brother Andrew and Dr. Emory are elected. The
number of votes was two hundred and seventeen,
making the majority one hundred and nine.
Andrew got one hundred and forty votes, and
Emory one hundred and thirty-five, on the first ballot,
and were thus handsomely elected at the first trial.
I think you need not be anxious about the editor-
ship."
Dr. Capers very fortunately escaped the honor
and responsibility of being made Editor of the
Christian Advocate and Journal. In his circum-
stances, and with his keen sensibilities, the post .
would, in all likelihood, have been painfully un-
comfortable, aside altogether from the necessity of
a residence in a distant State. The unreserved ex-
pression of his opinions in regard to the matter,
presented in the foregoing confidential correspond-
380 LIFE 01' WiLLlAM CAfEHfil.
eiice with his wife, shows the true nature of the man.
and sets in a fine light his scrupulous delicacy in
regard to office.
In September of this year, Dr. Paine, President
of LaGrange College, Alabama, in a letter inform-
ing Dr. Capers of the election of his son-in-law,
the Rev. W. H. Ellison, to a professorship in that
college, stated his own desire to leave the institu-
tion, in order to enter upon the more active duties
of the itinerant field. He added, however, that the
trustees were reluctant to release him unless they
could find one competent and willing to take the
presidency. He therefore applied to Dr. Capers to
know whether he could be prevailed on to accept
that post. To this application Dr. Capers yielded
at first a reluctant consent, stating that, whatever
his private views of his own fitness might be, he
would not hold himself absolved From the bidding
of the Church; and that if the Presiding Bishop
at the next session of the South Carolina Confer-
ence should judge it best, for the general interests
of the Church, to sanction his acceptance of the
office, and transfer him to the Tennessee Confer-
ence, he would be ready to obey. A few weeks*
reflection on the subject, however, changed his
views. His embarrassment lay in his own appre-
hension of want of scholastic qualifications. "For
this cause,*' he says, "I must beg to decline the
appointment. Could I fulfil 4n the South-west'
the part, or something like the part, of ' Dr. Pisk
in the North-east' — could I by accepting your call
DECLINES PBESIBENCY OF OOIlilSaES. S&t
build up the cause of Christian literature in that
interesting portion of our Church and country,
most gladly would I undertake it. But alas ! I
am not what you suppose me to be ; and were I to
attempt to stretch myself to the height of your kind
opinion, it would only result in extreme mortifica-
tion to both of us.*'
Similar applications were subsequently made to
him in regard to the Presidency of the University
of Louisiana, and that of Randolph Macon College,
Virginia; but he declined in both instances.
d82 LIFB OV WILLIAM OAPEBS.
OHAPTEE VII.
Hospitality — Rey. John Hutchinson — The little mail-carrier and
the overcoat — Outlay of beneyolence speedily returned and
doubled.
"Given to hospitality'* — a lover of strangers —
this is one of the marks of a New Testament
Bishop. The virtue inculcated in these terms was
exercised by Dr. Capers, to the full extent of his
means. Scarcely a day went by without witness-
ing some accession to his family circle, at one or
other of the meals. The native bent of his disposi-
tion, his early domestic training, as well as his
prominent position in the Church, made his hospi-
tality a notable trait in his character. Preachers
from a distance, in quest of health, particularly if
they were supposed to be in narrow circumstances,
were welcome to his house, and made to feel per-
fectly at home, and entertained for weeks. In all
this, he was cordially seconded and sustained by
his wife — one of the most amiable of her sex, who
never seemed to regard for a moment any personal
trouble which might be entailed upon her by the
open-handed hospitalities of her husband. One out
of a multitude of instances illustrating this feature
HOSPITALITY. 888
m the character of Dr. Capers, is furnished by the
Rev. H. A. C. Walker, one of his colleagues in 1838,
in the following incident :
"In the year 1833," says Mr. Walker, "I lived
in the family of Dr. Capers, in Charleston. In
the autumn of the year, the Rev. Mr. Parrish, of
one of the ^tforthern Conferences, came to Dr. C.*8,
being on a Southern tour seeking relief from con-
sumption. He sojourned with us for ten days or a
fortnight, if I remember correctly, and was greatly
pleased, as well he might be. The Doctor had a
sort of half pony horse, which, in connection with
a gig and a saddle, had done good service in aiding
us in the preaching and pastoral work of the
station, through the summer especially. But the
year was drawing to a close, and as it was the
Doctor's second year in the city, and he could not
therefore be returned, he and his faithful ' Bill*
must part. It was known that he was for sale. A
purchaser appeared, and a fair offer was made. It
occurred to Mr. Parrish that on that horse he could
wander through the country as he pleased. He so
said to Dr. Capers, but his funds were low. 'If he
will serve you,' said the Doctor, 'you may have
horse, saddle, and bridle for forty dollars; and
I am only sorry I cannot afford to put him
lower still.' This was far below the value of the
horse. He was sold; and the grateful invalid
mounted the trusty animal and set off*. In my next
year's circuit, I heard of ' brother Parrish,' for he
had travelled and sojourned among the people, and
S84 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
of the ^ great bargain brother Capers had given hiiB
in that horse !' Mr. Parrish seemed to have told
it everywhere with grateful exultation. I heard
afterwards, that after much wandering, the horse
bore the preacher safe to his home.
" In the same year, three young preachers came
from the North, bearing letters of introduction
from the immortal Fisk. Dr. Capers immediately
found quarters for two of them, and took the third
to be his own guest. He had room for no more,
and this one had to share my bed. He spent a
fortnight or so with us, before finding employment
as a teacher. One day at table, the Doctor's eldest
son, Frank, a bright, promising boy, then at the
Charleston College, and who has not belied that
promise, used the word 'belovedj* in a quotation,
I think, from Scripture. *Belov-ed,* said his
father, correcting him. 'Why so. Dr. Capers ?\
inquired the young scholar from New England.
*I think,' was the reply, 'there is a difference
between beloved as a participle, and as an adjec-
tive.' 'But,' continued the guest with the in-
quiring intonation, ' I do not remember any such
rule in the books.' 'Nor do I,' said the Doctor,
'and yet I can perceive a very marked distinction
mentally. I would say,' he added, 'John learned
his lesson well;' and then I would say, 'Dr. Fisk
is a learn-ed man.' 'I have no objection at all to
your distinction. Doctor ; I think I like it,' said Mr.
Bound ; for the guest was the Rev. G. H. Bound,
ftince so well and so favorably known ajnong us.
THE REV. JOHN HUTCHINSON. 886
Si
The former anecdote illustrates Dr. Capers'e
generosity of character ; the latter his exactness in
some, if not in all respects, in the use of words.
And yet he was far, very far removed from hyper-
criticism.*'
A few years before the time referred to by Mr.
Walker, an interesting young minister from the
North, Hutchinson by name, received very touch-
ing proof of the disinterested kindness of Mr.
Capers and his family. Mr. Hutchinson was an
invalid, far gone indeed in consumption. He was
a lovely young man, destined to an early grave ;
and with scanty means was seeking the alleviations
of a Southern climate during cold weather. He
was welcomed into the house of Mr. Capers, and
enlisted the affectionate solicitude of parents, child-
ren, and even servants. He remained with the
family seven or eight months, and had a servant
boy to wait on him, and sleep at night in his
chamber. Far away from his own kindred, with
the blight of premature decay stealing over his
early prospects, Mr. Hutchinson received all the
attentions which his circumstances required; and
by the example of a beautiful resignation, and deep
piety, and thankful spirit, showed that the kind-
ness was worthily bestowed. At the close of his
protracted stay, it was as if a member of the family
were bidding the last adieus. At the vessel which
was to carry him back to his native New England
hills, to lie in the burial-place of his kindred, the
boy^ Strephon, who had waited upon him, bimt
836 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBRS.
into tears, as though about to lose his own young
master.
The story of John, the little postboy, is worthy
of being told in this connection, although the event
occurred in one of the earlier years of Mr. Capers's
ministry. At a country-inn, on one of his journeys,
Mr. Capers had stopped for the night, after a very
cold day's ride. After supper, he found a small
lad sitting by the fire, thinly clad, and with a look
of anxiety in his face. The proprietor of the house
presently said, *' John, if I were you, I would not
go to-night.'* At these words the little fellow's
tears began to flow; and he replied, "Why did
you say so? you know I must go." Mr. Capers
asked what John's business was. He learned that
the boy was a mail-carrier, and had to take the
mail-bag twenty-one miles that night. He had no
other clothing than what he then wore, all of cotton
goods, and thin enough. The night was bitter,
and rain and sleet were then falling. Mr. Capers
told him that he must freeze to death if he per-
sisted in going ; and that if he would abandon the
attempt, his employer should be informed that he
had remained by the advice and persuasion of
friends. To this the little fellow, in tears, said, " I
must go : if I don't I shall lose my place, and then
my mother and sister will starve." Shortly after-
wards, the mail-carrier who brought the mail which
John was to take forward arrived. He came to
the fire, throwing off a large bear-skin overcoat
loaded with sleet ; and, with a profane expression,
THK LITTLE M A I L-C A B R I E B. 887
declared that he was frozen through. Mr. Caper*
said to hira, " Friend, if, with your overcoat on, you
are nearly frozen, what will be the fate of this poor
boy, thinly clad as he is, who has to ride twenty-one
miles and carry the mail you have brought V " He
will not live to get over the swamp that is just ahead,
and four miles wide,*' said he. Mr. Capers then
went to the landlady, to purchase a quilt or blanket
to cover John, who persisted that he must try to
go. She said she could spare nothing of the kind.
"Madam," said he, "let me have this half-worn
blanket for the child ; I will give you four dollars.
for if "No, sir,'* she said, "you will all find
before morning that I have no blanket to sell.*'
Returning to the fire, he said to the owner of the
overcoat, " Sir, will you sell me your overcoat for
this boy?" i* Yes,'* said he, "if I can get cost for
it, eight dollars." The money was immediately
paid, and Mr. Capers handed the coat to the boy,
whose eyes instantly brightened. He put it on,
and soon set out on his dreary ride. This purchase
had exhausted Mr. Capers's money, and left him
only twenty-five cents. The next morning he took
formal leave of the family without asking for his
bill, determining to send back, as soon as he
arrived home, the amount usually charged for a
night's lodging. On the part of the host, nothing
was said about pay when he departed. The next
night he lodged with a Presbyterian family, with
whom he had no acquaintance. When the time
came for family worship, his host, impressed by
22
338 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
his appearance and conversation that he was a
religious man, invited him to join them, and to
lead the devotional exercises. After prayers, he
inquired if the stranger were not a minister. Mr.
Capers told him who he was, and that he was
returning home after a year's work on the circuit
he had just travelled. Before breakfast the next
morning, he said to Mr. Capers : " Friend, we do
not belong to the same denomination of Christians.
You are a Methodist, and I am a Presbyterian. It
is, I dare say, with ministers of your denomination
as with ours. You at times stand in need of a
little money. Will you please accept of this?'*
handing him twenty dollars. On reaching home,
Mr. Capers enclosed a proper amount in a letter to
the tavern-keeper where he had met with the post-
boy, explaining the circumstances. iThe money,
however, was soon returned, on the ground that
they never charged preachers ; and he was requested
to call again whenever he passed that way. Thus
quickly and signally did he realize the truth of the
Divine word, "Give, and it shall be given unto
you, good measure."
TBOUBLSS IN CHABLR8T0K. 889
CHAPTER VIII.
Troubles in the Church in Charleston — Transferred to the Georgia
Conference and stationed at Savannah — Lewis Myers-Delivers a
eulogy on Lafayette.
The close of the year 1833 was a period of anxi-
ety and trouble to Dr. Capers. The existing Board
of Trustees of the M. E. Church in Charleston,
of which he then had the pastoral charge, was
made up of old and tried members. But they
were exceedingly conservative in their ideas, and
were much inclined to adhere strenuously to the old
style of doing things, which was sufficiently slow.
A somewhat faster generation had come on, who
desired, with laudable zeal, to have an acceleration
in the speed of these elderly brethren in the man-
agement of the temporalities of the society. Old
Fogyism and Young America came into collision
at the Quarterly Meeting held August 30th. A set
of resolutions was introduced instructing the
trustees to make certain alterations in the sittings
of the church edifices. The trustees could not be
got together for an^ interview with the committee
of the Quarterly Conference. The latter party un-
dertook to force matters ; and soon there came up
340 LIFB OF VILLIAH OAPBBS.
a spirit of dogged resistance on the one part, and
an eager determination to succeed on the other.
There being no disciplinary mode of putting out
of office the trustees, who went jogging on in the
old way, securely covered in their rights and privi-
leges by the existing law of the Church, the Young
America party rummaged about, and exhumed from
the dust and rubbish of near half a century an
act of incorporation, which had the singular quality
on its face of naming no individuals. There existed
no record of the names of even the persons who
applied for the charter. No particle of evidence
could be brought to show that the communicants
of the church in 1787 were the original members
of the corporation ; and even if that could have
been done, all the original corporators were long
since dead, without having perpetuated the corpo-
ration by a succession of officers and members, or
even, apart from the Board of Trustees, held a
single official meeting. The original charter had
consequently lapsed ; or at least the usage of the
Methodist society in Charleston from 1784 had
legalized the Board of Trustees, who, in conformity
with the book of Discipline, had managed all the
property affairs of the Church, and supplied by
election from time to time the vacancies occurring.
Under cover of this act, now rescued from its
mouldering oblivion, a "corporation" meeting was
called, which passed sundry rules and by-laws, and
elected a Board of Trustees ; not by the first move
ousting the existing Board, but electing them ad
TROUBLES IN CHARLESTON. ^41
Ue Board, and serving them with a notice that
fifteen days were allowed them to determine whether
they would serve or not, under the authority of the
sci'disant corporation. This meeting was held
November 12th, and was adjourned to meet on the
evening of the first Monday in December. The sur-
charged gun did no harm to the old Board, but its re-
coil was bad for the corporation cause. Matters, in
the opinion of the preacher in charge, had reached the
point of a revolutionary movement. He therefore
addressed to the leaders of the coup d'etat party a
letter of reproof, setting forth in several distinct
items the evidence of their being implicated in
"disobedience to the order and discipline of the
Church.'* The adjourned meeting was, neverthe-
less, held; the corporators elected nine of their
own party a Board of Trustees, and twenty-five
others an Executive Committee. On the 7th of
December Dr. Capers took one of his colleagues
with him, the Rev. H. A. C. Walker, and saw and
conversed with nine of the refractory members,
who had been previously addressed by him in
writing. When they had severally refused to re-
linquish their participation in the measures and
acts complained of, each one was served with a
citation to trial, upon the charge of "disobedience
to the order and discipline of the Church,*' followed
by five specifications. The parties then demanded
to be tried by the society. This privilege was not
^ant'ed, on the ground of the invariable practice
m the Charleston Methodist Society, and as beiii|;
842 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPBBS.
a precedent of evil tendency in circumstances such
as then surrounded the case. The trial* was an-
nounced to be held December 9th. On the day
previous, Sunday, it occurred to Dr. Capers, his
mind being in great distress, that he would, as a
last resort, try the force of a personal appeal. Ac-
cordingly at night, by his request, he was met by
the gentlemen whose trial was to be held the next
day; and after a touching appeal, not unmingled
with tears, to their sense of religious feeling, he
proposed for their signature a paper he had drawn
up, which stated that, in kindness to the opinions
and feelings of the ministry and brethren, they
agreed that the proceedings of the two corporation
meetings should be as if they had never taken
place, provided that the records of the Church,
deeds of conveyance, and the like, should be sub-
mitted to the Judges of the Court of Appeals for
their decision as to the question of the existence
of a corporation, and in w4iom it vested if it did
exist. To this paper all present, twenty-two in
number, put their signatures, and the citation to
trial was withdrawn.
This promising adjustment came to nothing.
Dr. Capers left Charleston December 31, to attend
the session of the Georgia Conference. On his
return, January 23d, 1834, he was waited on by
several of the signers of the paper aforementioned,
and informed that they considered themselves re-
leased from the obligation of their signatures, on
the ground that they were satisfied that the refer-
SUPERINTENDENT OF MISSIONS. 348
ence to the Judges was impracticable. This he
heard with deep regret ; but as the term of hjs ad-
ministration was now closing, he informed them
that he could have no more to do with the aflair,
but must leave it in the hands of his successor.
The session of the South Carolina Conference was
held in Charleston a few days afterwards, Bishop
Emory presiding. After an unavailing effort on
the part of that eminent man to adjust the diffi-
culty, affairs reached their crisis in the course of
the ensuing summer; and eight of the leading
members of the corporation party were cited to
trial, and expelled from the communion according
to the forms of the book of Discipline, notwith-
standing a large number of their friends had
pledged themselves to leave the Church in the
event of their expulsion. The whole case fur-
nishes a monitory lesson against attempting to go
too fast ; and a lesson equally monitory against the
stand-still policy.
Early in the year 1834, Dr. Capers was trans-
ferred to the Georgia Conference, and stationed in
Savannah. In connection with this appointment
he was made Superintendent of the missions to the
blacks, near Savannah, and on the neighboring
islands. Bishop Emory, who presided at the ses-
sions of the Georgia and South Carolina Confer-
ences, specially and earnestly requested Dr. Capers
to take the superintendence of these missions,
although he was aware that such an arrangement
would add considerably to the labors of his station.
844 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
He felt it to be important, at that stage of these
missions, to have the supervision of them intrusted
to one known extensively and favorably to the
planters on Savannah and Ogeechee rivers. Dr.
Capers cheerfully accepted these increased respon-
sibilities. His interest in the missionary work
never flagged ; and his influence was highly valu-
able. The writer of these memoirs had the plea-
sure, during a visit to Savannah in the spring of
that year, to accompany Dr. Capers on one of his
missionary visitations, and to witness the cordial
welcome tendered him by the planters. It was
hard to say which was the more to be admired —
the affability with which he condescended to " men
of low estate*' in his intercourse with the planta-
tion slaves to whom he preached, or the elegance
of his manners and conversation in circles of the
highest refinement and intelligence.
What sort of preaching he deemed most suitable
for plantation negroes, can best be described in his
own words: "It should be preaching; not a dry
lecturing on morals merely — much less a paraded
speech of long and high-sounding words. Ser-
mons should be short, and, of course, full of
unction. As for the texts, all are yours. I know
of but one gospel for all people. But we find it
impracticable to hold preaching-meetings on our
missions on the week-days. Although in the low-
country, the main field of our missions, the labor
of the plantation is assigned to the hands by daily
tasks, and the tasks are done by two or three
LEWIS MYEKS. 345
o'clock in the afternoon in the BUmmer months,
and before sunset in the winter, the negroes move
heavily to preaching; unless you would have it
at midnight, when they are wide awake, and you
might fall asleep yourself. Meetings for cate-
chism, or even class-meetings, can be held in the
week, but for preaching, I know no time but the
Sabbath, unless they might attend wakefully at
the break of day, which I never tried. Great
patience is requisite with these people. They
must be allowed to be themselves. If, indeed, they
have taken a dream to be conversion, or any thing
appears inconsistent with sound belief and vital
godliness, it must be corrected forthwith, but with
meekness of wisdom, and in the spirit of love. But
with respect to their modes of expressing pious
emotion, hold them not to a rule which they may
deem unnatural. Why should the tastes and habits
of refined life be made to bear as a law upon the
negro ? No one thinks of it in respect to other
things. No: a shout that comes with a kindled
countenance and flowing tears, is never to be an
offence to a negro missionary."
The writer accompanied Dr. Capers also on a
visit to his venerable friend, Lewis Myers, whose
residence was at Goshen, in Effingham county,
sixteen miles from Savannah. This patriarchal
man, some eight or ten years previously, had be-
come superannuated, after an effective ministry of
*ft quarter of a century ; a large portion of whieh
time he filled the office of Presiding Elder. He
^6 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
was of German extraction, and had the Datch
sturdiness of build and common-sense. His^ early
advantages had been small ; but his religion had
made a man of him. His native shrewdness of
mind had been cultivated by a good deal of read-
ing, and much close study of the Bible, with much
observation of human nature. There was, withal,
a subdued vein of humor running through him ; a
little quaintness that made his society piquant;
and a remarkable gentleness and sweetness play-
ing round what looked like the austerity of fixed
and severe habits of personal virtue. Tou would
hardly expect such a man to show much emotion ;
yet he seldom preached to the close of a sermon
without tears. He had preached the gospel *in
nearly every part of the low country of South
Carolina and Georgia; and had gone abreast with
such men as Tobias Gibson, Britton Capel, and
James Russell: preached it in the dialect of the
common people, and to the strong, hard sense of
the common people, who know how to digest the
pith of an argument nearly as well as the meta-
physicians: preached it when the population was
sparse, churches few, and travelling vastly fatigu-
ing; and so preached it as to leave great and
fruitful results behind. He belonged to a class of
men of heroic mould, who could take the saddle,
face a day's hard rain, swim swollen creeks, live
in the cabins of the poor, eat bear-meat if neces-
sary, and preach without manuscript every day of
. EULOGY ON LAFAYETTE. 847
the week ; who went girded into the great battle-
field where ignorance, vice, and semi-barbarism
were to be confronted, and fought a good, honest
fight, very different from the sham-battles of holi-
day heroes. Mr. Myers had been a man of weight
in the Conference, well versed in affairs, of sound
judgment, and looked up to with universal re-
spect. Two things are worthy of note in his
character: he was a man of few words, well
weighed, and to the point, and he knew when he
was done^ and where to stop ; and he knew also how
to decrease — to pass gracefully off the stage, and
resign to younger men, without regret or croaking,
the working of a system with which his strongest
and best years had been identified. Dr. Capers
held him in high respect for his past services to
the Church and country, and for the purity and
unaffected dignity of his Christian character. He
died in November, 1851 ; and as one of the fathers
of Southern Methodism, he has left an honored
memory.
In July, Dr. Capers received a communication
from the Mayor of Savannah, enclosing the follow-
ing resolutions passed by the City Council :
"In Council, July 1, 1884.
^^ Resolved, That this Board have received the
melancholy tidings of the decease of the venerable
Lafaj'ette with sensations of deep sorrow : that the
event, though one to have been anticipated from his
M8 LIVE OF WILLIAM CAP]):&S.
advanced yeare, is nevertheless deplored as the IcHte
of one of the last of those luminaries which led us
to liberty and the blessings we now enjoy.
^^ Besolved, That it be recommended to the
citizens of Savannah to do the last honors to his
memory, by a civic and military procession, and by
religious services, on a day to be named by tL«
Mayor. That the Rev. the clergy of all denomi-
nations be requested to unite in these services ;
and that the Rev. Dr. Capers, the son of a Revolu-
tionary soldier, be requested to pronounce au
eulogium to his well-known merits.**
To this request Dr. Capers acceded, performing
the service required to the gratification of the entire
community. Some, indeed, of the most admirable
of his pulpit efforts were those produced under
the influence of occasions, — and designed to show
the hand of God, to vindicate his ways, or illustrate
his providence in important passing events. He
always made these occasions tributary to the
spiritual welfare of his congregation, not their
entertainment merely. He sacrificed neither good
taste nor devotional feeling in handling subjects
of this class : under his treatment they suggested
topics of discourse which gave fresh force to
admitted truths, and unwonted power to familiar
ideas.
The interest felt by Dr. Capers in the welfare
and improvement of young ministers, deserves
mention. He was fond of repeating a saying of
Bishop Asbury, " Our boys are men.*' Affable and
LETTER TO THE BEY. A. W. WALKER. 349
BiiiWBfys aeeeaaible to his young friends, bia coua-
aela and advices wej?e eveF at their aerviee ; and
hia words of eacourageixLent often came as a balm
upon the spirit cast down and well-nigh dismayed
by the conscious want of qualification for the
solemn responsibilities of the ministerial office.
The following letter was written in the autumn of
1834, to the Rev. A. W. Walker, then travelling his
first circuit. It furnishes a fine illustration of
warmth of affection, tenderness of spirit, and wis-
dom of couaseL It may b.e read with great profit
by every young preacher who wishes to make
"full proof of his ministry."
"My bear Albxanbbr :— tI thauk you for youF
very kind and aflfectionate letter of the 7th ult.
You might doubt your having any thing to do
with the duties of the ministry, if you could enter
upon them without fear and trembling, or make
any considerable trial of the work of an evangelist
without much misgiving and an humbling sense of
your insufficiency. Never forget that our adorable
Lord and Master was led up into the wilderness to
be tempted of the devil — certainly not for his own
sake, as though such a preparation could be neces-
sary to prove Mm and qualify him for the work of
preaching the gospel ; but for our sakes^ and for the
sake of all who should become his ambassadors,
that it might be example and evidence to them, to
W5, of what is proper to the experience of those
wba are put as if in his stead, to plead with sinneiB
850 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPEBS.
to be reconciled to God. The conflicts connected
with your work, form an indispensable part of the
qualification necessary to its acceptable and eflfect-
ual performance. The more you are assaulted by
Satan, the more will your profiting appear, if you
cleave to Christ in faith and prayer. He overcame
for uSy that we might overcome by him.
" It is good for you to cherish a high and sacred
sense of the dignity and responsibility of your
calling, and humbling views of your personal fit-
ness for so great a work. But how is this good for
you ? Certainly not if you give way to despond
ency, as though something were required of you
impossible to be done ; but it is good for you, as it
is calculated to and shall cause you to trust in the
living God ; while you give yourself to study and
prayer, sobriety and watching, that he who alone
is able to make you a fit instrument in his work,
may use you, even you, to glorify his name in the
conversion of many. You cannot doubt but if
God will use you, you shall be useful. Any thing,
that shall please him, may work miracles; and
without his immediate blessing, Paul /lor ApoUos
were as insignificant as the most unworthy prattlers.
You find yourself deficient in knowledge? It
would be melancholy, at your age, if you did not.
You must feel your deficiency now, and that to
such a degree as shall make you diligent to im-
prove your time in study, or you will feel it by and
by, when it will be too late to make any much
advantage of it. But, I beseech you, suffer no sense
LBTTBR TO THE RBV. A. W. WALKER. 851
of deficiency in knowledge of any kind to influ-
ence you further than to redeem your time for
improvement. If you will do this steadily and
perseveringly, you shall find your account in it ;
and by uniting study, and preaching, and other
exercises of your sacred functions, your profiting
shall appear to all men ; yea, you shall become an
able minister of the New Testament, and that
before many years. The Methodist itinerancy
aflfords a sort of manual-labor school for preachers,
the very best to qualify them for their work if they
will use it well. The best way to learn to preach is
in the practice of preaching.
" Carry all your discouragements, difliculties,
troubles, to God, and go to him with them expect-
ing the help which you ask. You will scarcely
find it profitable, either to yourself or others, to
say much, or indeed any thing, about them to. the
people among whom you labor. To a confidential
friend, especially if he is himself experienced in
the trials of the ministry, our ministry^ you may
open your mind to profit, when occasion serves.
"May God bless you, my dear brother, and
keep you faithful and approved in all things.
" Your very sincere friend and brother,
"W. Capers.
"P. S. — ^You are always prudent in your inter-
sourse with females. You cannot be too much so."
862 LIFE OV WILLIAM CAPBBS.
CHAPTER IX.
RemoTal to Columbia — Accepts the Professorship of Moral and
Intellectual Philosophy in the South Carolina College — Reasons
for an early resignation — Denominational education.
Having finished his year of pastoral service in
Savannah, Dr. Capers was transferred by the pre-
siding Bishop to South Carolina, and connected
with the station of Columbia, the Rev. Malcom
McPherson being preacher in charge. The object
of this arrangement was to meet a very general
wish on the part of his clerical brethren, and of
the public generally, that he should take a post in
the'ftl&te^Gollege. The fortunes of the institution
had waned under the administration of Dr. Cooper,
and public opinion demanded the inauguration of
different principles at this seat of learning on which
the treasure of the State had been lavished without
stint. It was thought that Dr. Capers might be
instrumental in bringing about a turn in the tide,
and restoring the college to the position it had lost
in the public confidence. Negotiations had been
opened with him by a committee of the trustees,
empowered for the purpose of supplying the chair
of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy and Evidences
of Christianity, until the regular meeting of the
PROFESSOR IN S. C. COLLEGE. 368
Board. So far as mere feeling and inclination
went, Dr. Capers would have much preferred an
arrangement contemplated by the Bishop, which
looked to his taking the superintendence of the
colored missions. But it was always a principle
with him to hold private preferences and personal
feeling subordinate to the judgment of his brethren,
30 far as public service was concerned. Being
urged to take the Professorship, he submitted the
question to the judgment of the Conference.
Bishop Andrew, whose opinions on the subject of
Christian education have always been sound and
far-seeing, took occasion to say, that in view of his
being appointed, at some short time to come,
President of the college, as was then anticipated,
he thought Dr. Capers ought to accept the place
now offered him; but added, that he doubted if
the Church ought to give up her claim upon his
labors for any subordinate appointment. The Con-
ference then unanimously voted its advice in
accordance with the views thus expressed ; and he
accepted forthwith the Professorship.
Removing his family to the campus, he entered
upon his scholastic duties. Early in June the
trustees met; but instead of electing him Presi-
dent, as had been anticipated, they created a new
professorship — that of the Evidences of Christiani-
ty and Sacred Literature — and made it the duty of
the officer holding that chair to perform Divine ser-
vice in the college chapel; requesting the othei
professors to make arrangements for instructing in
23
854 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
Moral and Intellectual Philosophy until a President
should be elected. This appointment Dr. Capers
felt himself constrained to decline. In his letter
signifying this intention to the Board of Trustees,
he reminds them that he had never solicited any
appointment in the college, but at any time had
only been willing to take a part in establishing the
college on such principles as might make it a desir-
able place for the sons of Christian parents gen-
erally, or otherwise no part in it on any account
whatever; that he had perceived indications, both
as to the Presidency and the organization of the
college, calculated to discourage the hope that reli-
gious principles were intended to have a controlling
influence in the establishment; that the duties
assigned him in the recent appointment amounted
to little else than a chaplaincy ; and that the bare
title of professor could scarcely be expected to
shield him from the possible obloquy of being con-
sidered only as "a hiredy paidy and salaried priest.''
In view, therefore, of the only moving considera-
tion for his coming into the college, and under a
sense of heavy public responsibility, he begged
respectfully to decline the appointment.
These were good and sufficient reasons. There
is no likelihood that the trustees meant any thing
but what was entirely respectful to him ; and cer-
tainly, by putting the pulpit of the chapel into his
hands exclusively, they placed at his command a
powerful agency for moulding the religious senti-
ments of the foremost young men of the country.
BBASONS FOR RESIGNING. 855
He was told the day after the meeting of the Board,
by one of its members, in a somewhat facetious
way, that they had elected him " professor of reli-
gion !'' He had, it must be confessed, some grounds
for the apprehension that the appointment of a
preacher to do the praying and other parts of
Divine service for the college, was considered a
sufficient concession to the demands of Christian
opinion in the State. If he had been satisfied that
a cordial, sustained, religious cooperation could
have been reasonably anticipated on the part of his
colleagues in the facult^^ he might, perhaps, have
hesitated as to the question of duty. Most likely
he would have retained his connection with the
college. For the first time the religious com-
munion of which he was a minister had now a
representative in the Board of Instruction in an
institution which, in proportion to their number
and means, they were compelled to support. To a
man of his breadth of view, it must have appeared
that a monopoly of liberal education in the hands
of the other leading sects of the State, to the ex-
clusion of his own, tended, by a silent but irresist-
ible influence, to consign the excluded denomina-
tion to ignorance and obscurity. To such a policy,
whatever may have occasioned it, he must have
been opposed, on the grounds alike of social equal-
ity, civil liberty, and religious principle. But, on
the other hand, the presiding officer of the Annual
Conference had expressed, without reserve, the
rpinion that Dr. Capers could not be spared foi
3«56 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
any lower permanent post than the Presidency;
and in this pronounced opinion the Conference had
coincided. Besides, his age and public position
required, at the very least, that it should be known
to him who was to be honored with that appoint-
ment. The choice might fall upon a layman distin-
guished, indeed, for learning, but an enemy at
heart to all vital Chria*:ianity. With susceptible
young men, one sneer from such a man would be
sufficient to neutralize the effect of a dozen ser-
mons from the chaplain. And, in fine, to his high
and scrupulous sense of delicacy, any liability to
the imputation of mercenary motives in the exer-
cise of his ministry was abhorrent. The late Pres-
ident had voluntarily exonerated Methodist min-
isters from the sweeping charges he had flung from
his terrible pen against the clergy. And now, was
a Methodist minister, standing at the head of the
Methodist denomination in South Carolina, to be
the first to illustrate, within the very halls which
had resounded with the echoes of the invective,
the supposed frailty of the whole class ?
His resignation lost to the Methodist Church the
incalculable benefit which his pulpit ministrations
and professional teachings would have conferred
upon many of her sons. The Protestant Episco-
palians, the Presbyterians, and the Baptists have in
turn been represented in the chapel ministrations
of the South Carolina College; the Methodist
Church has not. Nor has there ever been a Method- *
ist laj^man — although there are numbers in the
l)BlfOMiNATIOKAL COLLEGES. 867
State fiilly qualified to serve — allowed to sit in the
Board of Trustees. And it is a curious coinci-
dence, that at the very time when, at length, the
Methodist Church in South Carolina was to have a
college of her own, the President of the State Col-
lege, a Presbyterian minister, alike eminent for
ability and influence, published a letter to the
Governor of South Carolina against denominational
colleges. The most admirable feature in the whole
affair has been the profound resignation and pious
freedom from resentment which has marked the
contented spirit of the denomination thus ignored
and thrust aside.
But the subject is too serious for levity. "I
could write down the names,'* said Dr. Olin in
1844, " of scores of educated men, in every part of
the land — many of them eminent for the great
talents and learning with which they adorn the
highest stations in Church and State — the sons of
Methodist parents,- and the rightful heritage of
Methodism, who were lost to the denomination,
and not a few of them to Christianity, by being ex-
posed to alien influences at the theatre of their
literary training. I have been curious in collecting
this sort of statistics. My observations and in-
quiries have extended more or less to the larger
half of the United States, and I give it as the prox-
imate result of these investigations, that a large
majority of Methodist young men — not less, I think,
than three-fourths of all who have been educated in
colleges not under our own direction — have been lost
358 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
to our cause. Many of them have gone to other
denominations, many more have gone to the world.
All were the legitimate children of the Church.
They were her hope, and they should have become
the crown of her rejoicing. But for her own
grievous neglect to provide for the nurture of the
sons whom God gave her, many of these had now
been standard-bearers in her battles, and shining
lights in her firmament. My heart sickens at such
contemplations of the past, and I fervently pray
that God may save us from similar folly and humili-
ation in years to come.**
It was the avowed sentiment of Dr. Capers, that
" he who is not zealous for religion in that form of
it which he most approves, can illy pretend to be
zealous for it in some other form.'* He was, con-
sequently, a decided Methodist, though at the farthest
possible remove from the bigotry which considers
its own modification of Christianity to comprehend
all of it that is trustworthy in Ihe world. Richard
Watson prefixed to his autograph in Dr. Capers's
album, at the London Conference, the following
beautiful dictum : " The two great pillars on which
the system of Wesleyan Methodism rests, are uni-
versal love and universal holiness.'* No teacher or
disciple of the Wesleyan school believed this more
fully than Dr. Capers. But the catholic feeling
harmonized fully with the firm and intelligent ad-
herence to denominational peculiarities. He could
not, therefore, be insensible to the important
claims of education under the control of his own
METHODIST EDUCATION. 859
communion. We have seen in what point of view
he regarded the influence of Dr. Fisk, in the North-
east, in this department of public service. With-
out considering himself to possess the peculiar apti-
tudes of taste and scholarly daily habit which make
a man an accomplished instructor, and with a cleri-
cal training in the itinerant field for twenty-five
years, such as made the action, freedom, variety,
and triumphs of that field the delight and home of
his heart, he had, nevertheless, upon the compul-
sion of a sense of duty, yielded all his private
preferences, and taken a chair in a literary institu-
tion. And wherefore? Because the convictions
of his maturest judgment satisfied him that religion
is the saving salt of education ; and that the cir-
cumstances of his native State required impera-
tively that at least he should make an eflfort in that
direction. The embarrassments he encountered
have been adverted to.
The prevalence of such convictions in connec-
tion with the confessed difficulties and delicacies
presented by the very constitution of colleges sup-
ported by the State, has led to the establishment
of denominational institutions. The Address of
the Bishops to the General Conference of 1850, in
language eloquent and forcible, sets forth the views
of the ablest minds in the Methodist Church on
this subject. They say : " Our Church has long
since made its decision in favor of this important
adjunct (education) to the work of enlightening
and converting the world. If we would exert our
e%0 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPEKS.
proper share of influence in directing the move-
ments of mind and heart in this stirring age, we
must connect Methodism with whatever is true and
valuable, pure and beautiful, in science and letters ;
and our children must identify the scriptura,l doc-
trines and the well-tried and time-honored institu-
tions of the Church of their fathers with the recol-
lections and associations, not only of the Sabbath-
school room, but also of the halls of learning, and
whatever is erudite and polished or eloquent in
the utterance of professional instruction. Our
aim is not merely to render Methodism respectable
by associating it with profound scholarship, but
mainly to imbue this scholarship with the prin-
ciples and spirit of a pure and hallowed Chris-
tianity.*'
To do this effectually, the faculty of instruction
must find a representative and utter a voice in the
chapel pulpit. The President, if he is, as he should
be, a member of an Annual Conference, is the con-
necting link between that body and the college ;
between the pulpit and the students. It is a de-
plorably shallow philosophy, or common sense
either, which conceives of the congregation of
students addressed by an ofliicer, in the character
of a gospel preacher, as a parcel of youngsters who
had as well be anywhere else, so far as profit or
effective influence is concerned, as in a college
chapel. These young men are, many of them, to
form your future travelling preachers, your class-
leaders and trustees, as well as teachers, statesmen,
l)k. FISK*S PREACItllJa. 861
agriculturists, doctors, and lawyers. They are at
the most impressible period of human life. They
can be made, and are made, to feel the power of
Christian truth. From no human lips will they
listen to it with deeper reverence than from the
lips of an admired, beloved professor, who also dis-
< ourses to them on literary subjects in the recita-
tion-room. No year passes without some college
revival, that can be traced to sources like these.
Dr. Fisk's biographer, in describing the preaching
of that gifted man in the chapel of the Wesleyan
University, says, that after one of these displays of
powerful Christian oratory, a lady of cultivated
mind — a stranger in the place — as she came away
said to another, with a half-stifled voice, "Have
you any irreligious students in your college?" and
on being answered in the affirmative, added, "As-
tonishing!"
362 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPEBS.
CHAPTER X.
Lays the corner-stone of the Cokesbury School — George HoUoway-
Visits Georgia — Stationed in Charleston — Congregational sing
ing — Appointed Editor of the Southern Christian Adyocate—
Great fire in Charleston — Collections for rebuilding the churches
— Centenary of Methodism.
In the course of the summer of 1835, Dr. Capers
went to Abbeville District, and, by invitation of
the Board of Trustees of the Cokesbury School,
delivered an address at the laying of the corner-
stone of the principal building. This institution,
which is under the control of the South Carolina
Conference, has had an eminently useful and popu-
lar career. Among its rectors stand the names of
instructors of high reputation in their profession.
The munificence of Mr. George Holloway, a Me-
thodist gentleman of comfortable property, who
died, leaving no children, has given an endowment
to the school, which secures the education and
board of eight or ten sons of ministers of the
South Carolina Conference, the preference being
given to the sons of deceased or superannuated
preachers. A long line of useful results will hand
down to posterity his honored name as a public
benefactor.
CONGREGATIONAL SINGING. 868
In the latter part of the"year, Dr. Capers paid a
visit to Georgia, spending a little time with his
attached friends, Dr. Branhara, of Eatonton, and
Mr. Foard, of Milledgeville. At the session of the
Conference in the winter, he was appointed to
Charleston, preacher in charge, his colleagues be-
ing Messrs. J. Sewell, McCoU, and Ganiewell.
This was one of his most eflScient and successful
years in the pastoral work. His preaching was
full of unction ; a gracious influence went along
with it ; and the membership among the whites in-
creased full thirty per cent.
A peculiarity in Dr. Capers's pulpit ministra-
tions may here be noted. His invariable habit
was to raise the tunes himself, to the hymns he
used in Divine worship. He had a fine voice,
clear, musical, and cultivated. One of Charles
Wesley's immortal hymns, on his lips, as the leader
of some fifteen hundred voices — half of them voices
of the blacks in the crowded galleries — sung to one
of the old congregational melodies, with no re-
straints of false refinement, has many a time car-
ried the assembly to heaven's gate. The farvor
and fire of the primitive singing were never sacri-
ficed by him to the conventionalities of choir-sing-
ing, where a half-dozen voices perform for the
mute congregation. He never praised God vica-
riously. He never encouraged his congregation to
do by proxy this part of their duty. He would
have enjoyed the smack of the following bit of racy
Harcasm recently let oflF by a somewhat eccentric
364 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
Congregational minister at the North, who thue
describes his feelings while attending Divine ser-
vice at a Methodist church: "The patient coiigre-
fijation stood up meekly to be sung to, as men stand
under rain where there is no shelter. Scarcely a lip
moved. No one seemed to hear the hymn, or to
care for the music. How I longed for the good old
Methodist thunder! One good burst of old-
fashioned music would have blown this modern
singing out of the windows, like wadding from a
gun ! Men may call this an * improvement, and
genteel ! Gentility has nearly killed our churches,
and it will kill Methodist churches, if they give
way to its false and pernicious ambition. We know
very well what good old-fashioned Methodist music
was. It had faults enough, doubtless, against
taste, but it had an inward purpose and a religious ear-
nestness which enabled it to carry all its faults, and
to triumph in spite of them ! It wa^ worship. Yes-
terday's music was tolerable singing, but very poor
worship. We are sorry that just as our churches
are beginning to imitate the former example of
Methodist churches, and to introduce melodies that
the people love, and to encourage universal sing-
ing in the congregation, our Methodist brethren
should pick up our cast-off formalism in church
music. It will be worse with them. It will mark
a greater length of decline.''
In May, 1836, Dr. Capers attended the session of
the General Conference, held at Cincinnati. The
principal interest which attaches to this session is
SOUTHERN CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE. 366
found in the action of the delegates from the
various Annual Conferences on the subject of
abolitionism. The position of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church on that question was defined in the
following resolution, adopted by a vote of one
hundred and twenty in favor, and fourteen against:
'^Hesalved^ That they (the delegates of the An-
nual Conferences) are decidedly opposed to modern
abolitionism, and wholly disclaim any right, wish,
or intention to interfere in the civil and political
relation between master and slave, as it exists in
the slaveholding States of this Union/'
To modern researches, this is doubtless a pro-
foundly mythical passage in the history of a Church
which is now with cool effrontery pronounced at
the North to have been always abolitionist to the
backbone.
Resolutions were also passed, authorizing the
publication of a weekly religious journal at Charles-
ton, called the Southern Christian Advocate, of
which Dr. Capers was elected editor. The lapse
of ten years had shown that a great central organ
at New York, however ably conducted, could not
supersede the home demand for presses in distant
but influential portions of the Connection. Besides,
a very general feeling had begun to pervade the
Southern States, hostile to the circulation of
Northern newspapers, religious as well as secular.
Many of these were preaching up a crusade against
the domestic institutions of the South ; and self-
defence as well as self-respect demanded that
366 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
there should be au adequate supply of Southern
journals.
The first number of the Southern Christian
Advocate was published June 21st, 1837. Dr.
Capers found himself a second time afloat on the
troubled waters of editorial life. Although he con-
tinued to preach every Sunday, yet he was relieved of
the cares of the pastoral work. He had no printing-
oflice : the paper was printed by a publishing house,
by the job; and the editor acted as his own clerk
in keeping the accounts. There was a good deal
of petty drudgery involved, that wasted time and
tried the temper. Supplies of cash would some-
times run short at the close of the week. Mistakes
would occasionally get into the mail-books. His
constitutional sensitiveness would be touched at
this and the other poitits ; and then he would write
with too sharp a quill. In a word, journalism did
not suit the genius of the man. A sense of duty
carried him along ; but he could hardly bring him-
self up to the full appreciation of the importance
and wide-reaching influence of the vocation. He
lacked enthusiasm and inspiration. He did not
wainn to a work which was not to him a labor of
love. He fought up bravely, however, against all
discouragements until the coming on of the ensu-
ing General Conference, and then gave up journal-
ism for ever. He said that editorship had been
"a furnace of insufferable fires** to him. "How
could I be willing to pass what of life remains to
me^ ia the perpetual irritations of the last tlpee
FIBE IN CHARLESTON. 367
j'ears ? I would rather wander through the earth
on foot, preaching Christ, than be the editor of a
religious newspaper.'* The Southern Christian
Advocate was, nevertheless, a very observable im-
provement on the Wesleyan Journal. His edito-
rials were much more elaborate, his selections
more varied and adapted to the popular taste. He
stood up firmly for the rights of his section in the
ecclesiastical connection. He was earnest and
high-minded in his advocacy of all the great
measures subsidiary to the spread of Christian
influence — educational, missionary, and literary.
For complete success, however, his editorial writ-
ing lacked dramatic and pictorial power, was a
trifle too polemical, and often showed that the pen
moved ^Hnviid Minerva.**
Late in April, 1838, a disastrous fire took place
in Charleston. It laid in ruins the richest and
most populous part of the city, destroying three
millions of property. The glare of the conflagra-
tion was seen eighty miles at sea, and the explo-
sions in blowing up houses were heard eighteen
miles oflT. Four houses of worship and one lecture-
room were destroyed. Among these was Trinity
Church, a wooden building, the largest of the
Methodist churches in the city. The old church
in Cumberland street had been removed a short
time previously, and a new brick church was in
process of erection. This was destroyed also, with
the workshop of the contractor, and a large amount
of materials. On the Suaday after the fire, the
868 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
Methodists held service in the market, morning
and afternoon, Dr. Capers officiating. Crowds of
people were present, and the worship was as solemn
and undisturbed as though it had been held in a
church. The congregation of St. Philip's Church
(Protestant Episcopalian) immediately and very
kindly tendered the use of a large wooden build-
ing, called the Tabernacle, to the destitute Method-
ist congregations ; and this was gratefully accepted
and used until the new churches were erected. On
the 30th of April, a meeting of the members of thie
Methodist Episcopal Church was held, the Rev.
Bond English, preacher in charge, in the chair;
at which it was resolved that a circular should be
sent to the ministers of the South Carolina and
Georgia Conferences, asking assistance in rebuild-
ing Trinity and Cumberland Churches; and that
provision should be made for employing an editor,
pro tern., for the Southern Christian Advocate, in
order that Dr. Capers might travel through the
State soliciting aid for the same purpose.
The Doctor cheerfully accepted this mission of
mercy. Mr. English edited the paper, and he set
out on a tour through the middle and upper
districts of South Carolina, commencing in May,
and preaching nearly every day, sometimes twice a
day, until the close of July. This laborious tour
he performed on horseback, during one of the
hottest summers that had been known for many
years. The result of his earnest and eloquent
appeals was, in subscriptions and cash, the noble
0ENTE19ART OF METHODISM. 369
aum of thirteieii thousand dollars and a little up-
wards. He had the pleasure of dedicating Trinity
Church when it was completed.
The year 1839 was the memorable Methodistic year,
in which Methodism completed its first centennial
period. This centenary was celebrated throughout
the world as a jubilee. It was marked as an occa-
sion not only of deep religious joy, but of unpre-
cedented liberality on the part of the members and
friends of the Church. The originating impulse
was given in England, where a million of dollars
was contributed in free-will offerings of grateful
love, for the benefits received from God, through
Methodist instrumentalities; the key-note having
been struck by the first contiibution, which was of
a thousand guineas by a widow lady. Dr. Capers
threw himself into this movement with character-
istic energy. Appeal followed appeal in the
columns of the Advocate ; and the fervid editorials
stirred up answering fire in every direction. The
following paragraph is a specimen :
"Ifever was there such a time for exertion in
the cause of charity as the present, or a time when
the efforts of the sons of benevolence were likely
to produce so rich a result. The Church sum-
mons all her children to her assistance in a great
effort to place her institutions, one and all, -on a
basis answerable to their importance, and that
shall give them the measure of efficiency they
ought to possess, alike for her advantage and the
good of mankind. The appeal is irresistible.
24
370 • LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
None can hold back from the performance of hie
duty, or advance to its performance with a divided
heart. 'The divisions of Reuben' cannot arise, nor
Gilead abide bevond Jordan, nor Dan remain in
his ships, nor Asher continue on the sea-shore ; but
as Zebulun and Naphtali, we will all go up to the
help of the Lord against the mighty. Indeed, we
* have already gone up, and the work is begun in
the face of our foes. To halt or retreat we cannot.
The shout of triumph is heard in our van, and soon
the remotest rear shall resound with the voice of
thanksgiving. But let us be doing. Meetings in
every town, meetings in every populous country-
place, meetings in every large society : let there
be meetings ; and at once ; let there be meetings.'*
On the 25th October, the centenary was cele-
brated with religious services throughout the
country. The occasion was everywhere realized
as a time of special spiritual refreshment. The
contributions in the Georgia and South Carolina
Conferences largely exceeded one hundred thou-
sand dollars. Many who hailed that day with pious
exultation, have passed to their everlasting homes
above. None of those who took part in those
blessed solemnities shall witness the dawn of the
second centenary day. But they have bequeathed
to the world results which shall move on to the
end of time.
DR. LOVIOK PIEROB. 871
CHAPTER XI.
General Conference of 1840 — Conversion of his son William — ^Ap-
pointed Missionary Secretary for the South — Preaches the funeral
sermon of Mrs. Andrew.
The General Conference of 1840 was held at
Baltimore. The week before the delegates left
Charleston, there was a camp-meeting held in the
vicinity of the city. The venerable Dr. Lovick
Pierce was one of the preachers from a distance
who were present. His text on Sunday was: " Be-
cause iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall
wax cold; but he that endureth to the end, the
same shall be saved.*' This subject was handled
with the skill, force, and sweep of a master of
pulpit oratory. The causes which led to the
abounding of iniquity were traced with a power
of delineation absolutely terrific at times ; and
particularly so when the preacher came to consider
the blight and mildew spread over society by the
example and influence of public men who had no
fear of God, no love of virtue. Then came, in
striking contrast, a picture of the militant virtue
which treads down soft eflfeminacy, resists to the
372 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
last extremity every debasing appetite, and main-
tains to the end its purity, loveliness, and dignity
with manly valor ; and the true and steadfast love
which is the soul of all piety — full of loyalty to
Christ — finding in God's favor its highest heaven
of enjoyment. The first part of the sermon cut
with an edge of steel into the hoary crest of social
iniquity, and with intrepid spirit and full strength
clove down the towering front of hydra-headed
vice ; the latter part harnessed the coursers of the
sun, and drove the victor agonistes, in a chariot of
fire, to the gate of heaven. Robert Newton preached
the next Sunday in the Light Street Church of
Baltimore, and was heard by several who had
listened to Dr. Pierce at the camp-meeting. The
shade of the great Wesleyan orator will pardon the
writer for saying, that the comparison of the two
eflForts was wholly in favor of the camp-meeting
sermon.
Among those who were brought under deep reli-
gious concern at the meeting just referred to, was
the second son of Dr. Capers, who shortly after-
wards found '' the pearl of great price'* in finding
Christ as his personal, all-sufficient Saviour. He
subsequently entered the travelling ministry in the
South Carolina Conference. Dr. Capers, who was
then in Baltimore attending the General Confer-
ence, soon received the intelligence of his son's
conversion. This threw a gleam of unutterable
joy over his spirit. He wrote immediately to Wil-
liam the following deeply interesting letter :
CONVERSION OF HIS SON WILLIAM. 878
" My very dear Son : — When I wrote to you a
few days ago, my most anxious hope had not antici-
pated so much — by any means so much — in so
short a time, as I have had the delightful, nay, rap-
turous pleasure of learning from Susan's letter bj*
brother Sewell this day. My dear boy, hoUi fast.
As sure as you live, and there is a sonl in your
body, let fools say what they will, j'ou will be made
for both worlds if you hold fast the mercy you
have received, and acknowledge always the Lord
Jesus Christ. Thousands of silver and gold were
as nothing to this. I thank God, I bless his holy
name with joy unspeakable, that he gave you
courage to acknowledge him on the Tuesday night
at the altar in Trinity Church, on Thursday night,
the 30th April, at the love-feast, where you joined
the Church. And you found on Saturday night
the good of it, when you found peace in believing.
Blessed be God !
" You must never give back ; and that you may
not, you must watch against evil and be constant
to prayer. Expect to be tempted much, and in
every way. The devil will seek, nay, seeks^ to
destroy you by every plausible suggestion, and
every form of attack. I told you before that if
you felt at any time that you had lost ground, or
done wrong, or in any way grieved the Holy Spirit,
you should by no means yield to discouragement,
as though you could not recover; or not permanent-
ly persevere, but renew and redouble your suppli-
cations for pardon and peace. This is the way still,
874 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
and will always be the way for you to hold on and
not fail. But now, you need to be advised against
that stratagem of your enemy by which he almost
universally assails .young converts, and frequently
to their cost, by persuading them that they have
been mistaken, and have not experienced a genuine
work of grace. I suftered much and long from
this quarter myself. But without waiting to reason
about the matter, carry it straight to the throne of
grace, and ask light from above. *Ask, and you
shall receive.* But if you even fall into darkness
of mind, and even if you are sure that this has
been induced by something you have done wrong,
still, as I have said, go to your knees. Go and
make haste to confess and humble yourself at the
foot of the cross, and you shall soon have light and
life again. I am glad that you speak to brother
Walker freely. Do so by all means. Do not be
backward to tell him all that troubles you, and may
God most graciously bless you. Read the Scrip-
tures, and pray in secret. Guard against whatever
might betray you into wrong tempers, and be con-
stant to your class. I have much joy of you, my
son, and pray unceasingly that God may most
graciously bless you with his protection, guidance,
and grace, by the Holy Spirit, through Jesus Christ
our Lord.
"Tour rejoicing father, W. Capers.
"May 9, 1840."
William was then about fifteen years of age : his
CONCERN FOR HIS SON. 375
very youth, with the nativo vivacity of his temper,
gave an increased depth of tenderness and solici-
tude to his father's feelings on the occasion of his
making a religious profession. Two days after the
foregoing letter was written, Mrs. Capers received
one, from which the following extract will show
how the father's heart throbbed on with tlu
quickened pulse of joy:
" What can I write to you about so properly as
about William ? And yet I do not suppose I need
say any thing to impress you with any feeling ad-
ditional to what you have on his account. O, ^'ow
much tenderness, faithfulness, and continual counsel
he must reasonably require to keep him steadily on
as he has begun ! Nor need I say a word to im-
press you, or his brother. or sisters, with any addi
tional feeling to what you have of the infinite im-
portance to him, for both worlds, of his maintaining
his religious course. If William holds on, and you
and I live to see him a man, we shall rejoice for the
day he was born. A man he will be, to bless us
and the Church of God. O no ; I write not to ad-
vise you to watch over him with continual and
faithful tenderness, advising him, joining with him
in religious conversation and devotion, and the like ;
for I know you cannot need it — you cannot fail of
any thing in your power to do for him ; but I write
because my mind and heart are as yours are, and I
can scarcely think of any thing but William.
Blessed be God for this great mercy, and may his
divine goodness keep the lad for evermore.'*
376 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
A CQuple of weeks later he says : " I am exceed'-
ing full of comfort for you all, so that often as
my thoughts go home, (and that is as often as they
are not held back on business,) they salute you all
with an emotion which nobody else could feel.
Sometimes I feel as if my warfare was accom-
plished— or as if I had reached a summit on my
pilgrim-way of trouble and temptation, and saw
the clouds and darkness which had persecuted my
soul rolled back afar, and a path of sunshine open-
ing before me. William's conversion alone has given
me, as it were, a new heavens and earth. Take
care of him ; make allowances ; be faithful to him
every day and hour, but be very tender. Blessed
be the Lord God, whose mercy is everlasting."
At this General Conference, Dr. Capers was ap-
pointed chairman of a committee to prepare a letter
to the British Conference. In the address, which
was written by him, the position of the Methodist
Episcopal Church in reference to slavery — a topic
which had been referred to in the Letter of the
British Conference — was defined in the following
clear and emphatic terms :
" Of these United States, (to the government and
laws of which, * according to the division of power
made to them by the Constitution of the Union,
and the Constitutions of the several States,' we owe
and delight to render a sincere and patriotic
loyalty,) there are several which do not allow of
slavery. There are others in which it is allowed,
and there are slaves ; but the tendency of the laws,
1
SLAVERY AND ABOLITION. 877
and the minds of the majority of the people, are in
favor of emancipation. But there are others in
which slavery exists so universally, and is so closely
interwoven with their civil institutions, that both
do the laws disallow of emancipation, and the great
body of the people (the source of laws with us)
hold it to be treasonable to set forth any thing, by
word or deed, tending that way. Each one of all
these States is independent ofthe rest and sovereign,
with respect to its internal government, (as much
so as if there existed among them no confederation
for ends of common interest,) and therefore it is
impossible to frame a rule on slavery proper for our
people in all the States alike. But our Church is
extended through all the States, and it would be
wrong and unscriptural to enact a rule of discipline
in opposition to the Constitution and laws of the
State on this subjexjt; so also would it not be equi-
table or scriptural to confound the positions of our
ministers and people, so difterent are they in dif-
ferent States, with respect to the moral question
which slavery involves.'*
When the Address was presented to the Qeneral
Conference for adoption, a division was called for
by the leader of the abolitionist party; and on
counting the votes for the adoption of the portion
relating to slavery, one hundred and fourteen mem-
bers voted for it, and eighteen in the negative.
This, then, was the position of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church in 1840, as expounded by her highest
assembly.
878 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
At this General Conference the territory of the
Church was divided into three missionary depart-
ments, and Dr. Capers was appointed secretary for
the Southern division. The general interests of
the missionary work within this district were in-
trusted to his oversight; and in the performance
of his official duties, it was necessary that he shoukl
travel at large, preach on the subject, and hold mis-
sionary meetings, attending, besides, as many ses-
sions of the Annual Conferences as possible. This
was a large field of labor, presenting some attract-
ive features, but not a few difficulties and discour-
agements. It entailed, beyond doubt, protracted
absences from home, and fatiguing routes of travel.
For four years this work occupied the time and
attention of Dr. Capers. He removed his family
from Charleston to Oxford, Georgia, and attended,
during the autumn and winter, several Conferences.
In the spring of the year 1841 he made an exten-
sive Western tour, leaving Oxford about the first
of April, and visiting Columbus, Georgia, Mont-
gomery, Tuskaloosa, Columbus, Mississippi, Jack-
son, Vicksburg, Grand Gulf, Port Gibson, Wash-
ington, and Natchez. This journey was performed
with horse and sulky. He met all his appointments,
and enjoyed fine health.
In a letter from Natchez there is found the fol-
lowing beautiful passage : '* 0, I have borne the
cross, and the cross sustains me. I have gone back
to the time of my youth, when I had a little strength,
and have felt my strength renewed. God has been
LABORS AS MISSIONARY SECRETARY. 379
with me of a truth, in all ray way ; and more and
more has he been with me. Blessed be his name.
I wish ardently for but one thing — his blessing
upon you all, and his guiding hand, even as he has
guided me, as long as you live, and for ever. Will
he not be your God from henceforth, and even for
evermore ? Surely he will. Will not his blessing,
too, prove your salvation for ever ? Trust in him.
Let all my house fear God and serve him, and it
shall be well with them, for he hath promised it.
The blessing of God Almighty, given in Christ
Jesus, be with you.*'
At Natchez he embarked horse and sulky on a
Mississippi steamer, and reached Memphis on the
2l8t May. The last evening he spent on the steam-
boat, a petition froni the ladies was handed him by
Judge Covington, requesting a sermon. With this
request he complied, of course, preaching on a text
which led him to show that religion is founded in
knowledge, and not in ignorance or superstition ;
and to press the necessity of applying to the acquire-
ment of that knowledge in the only w^ay in which it
can be obtained.
From Memphis he visited his brother, the Rev.
B. H. Capers, in Haywood county, spending a week
with him, but preaching during the time, at Sum-
merville and Brownsville. Filling an appointment
at Jackson, Tennessee, on the last Sunday of May,
he spent the following Sunday at Nashville ; and
preaching in the prominent towns on his return
route, he reached home the last of June. In the
880 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
autumn he made another three months' tour, through
the Carolinas and Virginia, attending the session
of the Virginia Conference at Portsmouth. This
route carried him through the scenes of his youth.
One of his appointments was at Lodebar, Sumter
District, South Carolina. He says: "I preached
to a respectably large congregation, in which there
were but two individuals who belonged to the
neighborhood, even so late as 1821. Not one
grown person of those days is left. I visited the
hallowed spot where my father, and wife, and first
son, and brother-in-law lie buried — visited it alone,
and felt the humbling lesson of the grave. Ah,
me ! why am I not more holy ? I can never live
in that neighborhood ; and yet I feel an inde-
scribable interest in it. It seems to be curtained
with grave-clothes ; every thing serving to remind
me of the dead.'*
In January, 1842, Dr. Capers attended the ses-
sion of the South Carolina Conference at Char-
lotte. He was much encouraged by the decided
opinion expressed by Bishop Waugh that his labors
as Missionary Secretary were eminently useful, and
ought by no means to be discontinued. He says :
"I hope it may be actually so. Truly, it is not
pleasant to the flesh to be so continually going,
and to so great distances from home ; nor is it in
any way desirable to be placed in an almost bound-
less field, where at every point work is wanted to
be done, and one can do so little for the whole.
But the great consideration is to be useful ; and if
FUNERAL SERMON OF MRS. ANDREW. 881
in this wide field I can be more useful than in an-
other, well; let me still give myself and serve on."
In April he visited the missions to the blacks in
South Carolina, and then went to New York,
where he attended the anniversary of the Mission-
ary Society. "The brethren here,*' he says,
"receive me with great kindness, and no ono
with more than brother Lane. Dear, good man,
I reckon I shall never meet him while I live, with-
out remembering the mattress on the floor, on
which his honored bones were put wearily to rest
in our house, once, in Charleston.'*
In June, by invitation of Bishop Andrew, Dr.
Capers preached the funeral sermon of the lamented
Mrs. Andrew — a lady of peculiar excellences of
mind and heart, the closing scene of whose life is
thus described by Dr. Longstreet: "For many
months before her death she looked forward to
her approaching dissolution with calmness and
composure; but entertaining no higher hopes, it
is believed, than to die in peace and without fear.
But about a week before she was taken from earth,
it pleased God to give her such a bright manifesta-
tion of his presence, and of her acceptance, that
she broke forth into shouts of triumph. Thence-
forth her little strength was spent in glorifying
God, calling on her friends to rejoice with her,
encouraging Christians, counselling sinners, and
consoling her family. For the remaining week of
her life, no cloud intervened between her and
heaven. In response to a brother's question,
382 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
when she could no longer speak, she signified by
repeated motions of the head that God was still
near to her, and that her way was clear. She em-
braced religion at the age of thirteen, cherished it
for about thirty-three years, and died in its triumphs,
in her forty-sixth year."
SOUTH-WESTERN TOUB. 883
CHAPTER XII.
Removes from Oxford to Charleston — Makes the tour of the South-
"i
western Conferences — Visits his aunt in Kentucky — Incidents of
travel — Maum Rachel.
In the latter part of 1842, Dr. Capers removed
his family from Oxford to Charleston. lu the
spring of the following year, after having attended
the sessions of several Conferences during the
winter, he made a tour of the missionary stations
in the low country. Frequent articles appeared
from his pen in the Southern Christian Advocate
on the subject of missions, during the summer.
In July, his daughter, Susan Bethia, was married
to Professor Stone, of Emory College. About the
middle of September, he set out on a long Western
tour, and was absent from home nearly five months.
He attended the sessions of the South-western
Conferences, beginning with the Tennessee Con-
ference, held at Gallatin.
Having time between the session of the Tennessee
and Memphis Conferences to make a brief visit to a
venerable relative whom he had never seen, he left
Nashville on the night of the 27th October. There
had been snow in the course of the day. " So,
taking the hint,*' he says, "I bought a Mackinaw
blanket to wrap up in for the night, in the stage.
884 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
The stage, however, proved to be a nondescript
vehicle, more like a wagon than a coach, made
for a road which defied all springs, and tested the
utmost strength of any thing that could be made
of wood and iron ; and such was the violence of
the jolting over rocks imbedded in mud, that
neither blanket nor cloak could I keep wrapped
about me, but had to use arms, and hands, and feet
to sustain myself against the bounding, thumping
stage, that it should not bruise me. The driver
was young and reckless — one of the sort to see
better and drive faster in the dark than in day-
light; so about two o'clock in the night, he ran
out of the road and upset us in, fortunately, one of
the few spots where it was all mud and no rocks.
No harm happened by the upset, except that being
in the mud was an increase of my exposure, in a
night when (so soon after summer) the ground was
hard with frost and the water covered with ice. I
took cold, of course.**
He found Mrs. Allen at Russellville. She was
the only surviving sister of his mother : a venerable
lady, seventy-five years of age, who had not seen a
single member of her family after leaving South
Carolina, fifty years previously. She had been,
from the formation of the first Methodist Society
in the parishes of her native State, true and steady
in her Christian profession ; and was, perhaps, the
only individual at that time alive of the generation
who grew up with her in the section of country
where she was born. "I mean,*' said the Doctor,
LOVE TO HIS MOTHER. 385
*^ for my dear mother's sake, to go and sit down
with her, and let her talk it all over her own way,
for a day at least.** He enjoyed the visit very
much. It carried him back to the days of child-
hood, and stirred the memory of life's young
dreams. His aunt's face recalled the early vision
of a mother's smiles. "I find myself," he said
after the interview, "more than ever curious to
know my mother. Surely when I get to heaven,
(for I do expect to get there,) it will be the very
first recognition I shall seek to make : if my dear
Anna should not rather be first among created
ones. I never knew my mother since my infant
smiles to her caresses. She died as soon as I
could call her name. But I cannot tell how much
I love my mother; and I feel that it is more and
more as I grow older. Shall I not know that she
is my mother, in the world above ? I think I shall.
And if so, shall I introduce to her those whom God
has given me, those who have gone before me ; or
will she know me, an old man, for the infant she left,
and bring my wife and children to meet me ? There
is a veil upon it, not to be lifted before the time.
But 0, let us make haste, sure haste to that time.
Our friends will not be in the way of our supreme
and infinite adoration of the Lord our Redeemer,
our God and Saviour, in that world. They need
not be in this world, though we know them and
love them with the utmost ardor. May God keep
us by his grace, and then we shall be sure to find
that whatever may be the constitution of our
25
386 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
natare in the life to come, it shall be what is infi-
nitely happiest for us, and most to the glory of
God."
O this mysterious, awful shadow, this veil which
hides the great eternal hereafter; how we long to
get one glimpse beyond it! How imagination,
conjecture, inquiry, seek to pierce the dark frontier
which divides the stupendous realities of the future
state from our present earthly condition ! And
these human affections of ours, how ardently they
desire to know that departed friends, whose
memories we cherish so fondly, do actually feel for
us a kind and heightened interest even amidst the
amazing scenes of the world of spirits ! There is
good ground for the confident assurance that they
do. "I sometimes wonder,'* said a profound
thinker, John Foster, "that religious teachers
advert so little in any distinct terms to the state
immediately after death, which inspiration has so
expressly asserted to be a state of consciousness,
and of happiness to faithful souls."
Some of the incidents of travel on his return
route. Dr. Capers thus describes: "I left Colum-
bus, Mississippi, on New Year's day, encouraged, by
the few days of fair weather of the previous week,
to hope that I might reach Montgomery, by the
way of Greensboro and Selma, by stage. But the
rain was again upon us like a flood, and after
travelling only twenty-three miles, the driver firmly
told me I could go no farther. The river, of course,
was my alternative; and to the river I went in
WESTERN HOSPITALITY, 887
search of a boat. The evening of the 8d found me
on the western shore of the Tombigbee, five miles
from its junction with the Alabama, where I was
in hope of a passage in the boat of that evening up
the Alabama. I had been told of clever accommo-
dations at my stopping-place ; and, what I found I
will now relate as a specimen of Western hospi-
tality. There was a comfortable dwelling, kitchen,
etc. ; but the proprietors had abandoned the place
on account of its sickliness, and were living two
or three miles back in the pine woods. An old
negro man, left in charge of the buildings, was the
only resident. His kitchen fire was warm ; he
talked of cooking something for my 'reberence,*
which I declined ; and I was returning his proffered
kindness with a word about his soul, when a fine-
looking man entered. He was the proprietor, who
had been all day engaged in loading a boat some-
where in the neighborhood, and going home a little
after night, was induced to stop by the sight of a
traveller's trunk in a corner of his piazza. We
were mutually unknown, and I only wanted a fire
on the bank of the river, where I could await the
arrival of the steamer. But no such thing. A fire
must be made in the house, and he wovM make it.
* But, sir, you have been with your boat all day
long, without any thing to eat ; you had better go
home.' * That is nothing, compared to your being
here without any supper. 1*11 make you a fire,
and then I will go.' So the fire was made, and we
chatted freely, interrupted, however, with frequent
888 Llfl OV WILLIAM OAPBBS.
exprsMions of regrets by mine boat tbat I Aonl4
find notbing to eat, and as freqnent remonstrances
on my part against bis remaining so late from borne,
wben be must be bungry, and Mrs. B. uneasy
about bim. It took me an bour to prevail on bim
to go. And my next care was to extinguisb tbe
fire, and remove my quarters to tbe bank of tbe
river. Here I was, seated on my trunk over a
blazing fire, at nine o'clock P. M., wben lo, my
bost was again upon me, and witb bim a lovely
young woman, bis wife. His supper bad long been
waiting for bim, and as I could not be induced to
go and sbare it witb bim, tbe good lady had
resolved to bring a cup of coflfee to tbe old preacher
where be was. It was a moonlight night, though
cloudy. Only a pleasant ride on horseback, she
insisted. And again I was removed to tbe house.
And now that troublesome trunk. It must not be
left at the river, but taken to the house, and Mr, B.
must carry it. I protested, and took bold on a strap ;
but he would have it to himself^ fairly on bis
shoulder, without any partnership in tbe load.
There we were then, again in the bouse, with the
addition of an elegant, woman to our company ;
(for such was Mrs. B., if I know what makes an
elegant woman ;) and we talked away as if each
meant to find out every thing that concerned th^
other, right away. Presently the puffing noise of a
steamer was heard, and seizing a torch, I ran for
tbe river ; Mrs. B. running step for step witb m^
aod ^r. B. (fine fellow) bearing .the trunk witbi^nt
WESTERN HOSPITALITY.
my knowledge of his doing so. The boat was
racing, and would not stop to take me. And now
it was eleven o'clock at night. Mrs. B. had left a
sick child at home, and in all conscience I thought
she must have had enough of the old parson.
"Would she not go home? Did she mean to sit
there all night? * Madam,* said I, *you say this is
not your house because you cannot accommodate
me in it: suppose then you allow me to take
possession. Have you any objection, Mr. B. V
'No, no,' she exclaimed, anticipating him, *he has
no objection. It is your house, and we are only
your visitors.' 'Very well,* I replied: 'then let
me tell you, madam, that it is past eleven o'clock;
you are three miles from home ; you have a sick
child ; and it is time for you to make your election
between going home and going to bed, if you can
find bed and bedclothes about my house.' At
about midnight they went home ; and some hours
after I got aboard a steamboat, never more deeply
impressed with Western hospitality. Mr. B. was
a graduate of the University of Alabama, and Mrs.
B. had been educated at Georgetown, D. C.
. " Did you ever get aboard one of their double-
engine steamboats, by a yawl, on a dark night?
If not, be reminded to take care when you do.
The moon was down before the Southerner an-
swered my waving torchlight, and sent her yawl
to fetch me aboard. I had before noticed the quick-
ness of their movements on like occasions on those
waters, and as the men were pulling for the boat^
890 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPBRB.
I begged them to take care of me in getting aboard,
and not be too quick to sing out ' ready ;* ' for I am
no longer active, my good fellows/ said I, * and will
need more time than a younger man might.*
* You shall hav^ your time, sir,* answered one of
them, 'and I will see you all safe.* And he was
as good as his word, or that had been my last
adventure.
"There are two engines employed to propel those
boats, and they are placed on the main deck, next
to the wheels. The boats have two stories or
decks, like long, two-storied, flat-roofed houses,
built on their decks, as wide as their hulls. The
lower of these stories is used for carrying freight,
and in the present case the freight was cotton ;
while the upper story forms the habitable part of
the boat. The freight, cotton bales, was separated
from the engines by an open framework, and filled
the entire space between them, and to the ceiling,
except sixteen or eighteen inches along one side,
next to the enclosure of the starboard engine. I
had never observed where the engines were placed
on board these boats, or how the boatmen passed
from place to place on that lower deck ; but, taking
it for granted all was plain and easy, having gained
the deck from the yawl at the stern of the boat, I
was making my way before the man with my trunk
to the steps forward of the wheelhouse, when the
engineer let off steam, and filled the whole place with
a mist so thick that I could not see. It was just
at the moment the man at the yawl cried out, *All
RACHEL WELLS. 891
ready,' and precisely as I had reached the point of
the squeezing passage between the cotton bales and
the engine. The passage I could not see ; but the
engine being yet at rest, with the huge beam they
call the pitman lying horizontally just at my feet,
r took that for the way, and was actually stepping
on it, when the man- behind seized and drew me
back. The pilot's bell had already jingled, and the
engineer's answered to it, so that a few seconds
more showed me the pitman I was going to walk
on, lifted to the ceiling as a great arm turning the
wheels of the boat. How nigh had been death, and
how unsuspected!"
While Dr. Capers was Missionary Secretary, the
following incident occurred in Charleston, which
deeply affected him : There was living in Anson
street a saintly old colored woman, named Rachel
Wells. She had been a member of the Methodist
Church for many years, and been a pattern of piety
in humble life. Iler patience and faith, her good
works and consistent example, had been long
known to Dr. Capers, who held her in high regard.
Some years previously, while in charge of the
Charleston Station, he had occasion to visit Aunt
Rachel, and gave the following account of the in-
terview : '• She had fallen down the step-ladder
which served for stairs, and struck an eye with so
much force as almost to put it out, inflicting ex-
cruciating pain, and endangering her life b}^ in-
flammation. It was at a time when our worthiest
and ablest ministers happened to be in the city,
892 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
waiting for a passage by ship to New York, on
their way to a General Conference, and we had ser-
vice in Trinity Church every evening, greatly to
our refreshment. ' Sorry to see you in so sad a case,
Maum Rachel,* said I, as I approached her little cham-
ber, from which almost every ray of light had been
excluded on account of the painfulness of her eye.
' Sorry I am, very sorry for you ; and the more, that
this bad accident should have happened just now,
when we are having such good meetings every night
in Trinity. You would be so happy if you could
be with us there.'
"'I hear of de meetin, sir,' she answered, 'and
t'ank God for *em for you sake ; but as for me, I
hab no need o' dem. I couldn't do widout Trinity
Church before, and while I well I neber oft' my
seat da, day or night ; but since dis ting come 'pon
me you call bad accident, I hab no need of Trinity
Church any more ; t'ank God, my blessed Jesus
hab shorter way to me now dan by Trinity Church.
All he do for me wid de meetin befo-time, he do
for nae now widout de meetin ; and more too, bless
de Lord.' "
On the occasion before referred to. Dr. Capers
went to sec Aunt Rachel, Part of the conversation
was in the following words : "Alluding to her
seeming solitude, she said : ' Time was when I had
some 'bout me, but God please to tek dem from
me. But I quite resign. When de las one gone, I
feel my heart begin to sick an fret. But I tink,
what dis? If I fret, who I fret 'gainst? My
HACfiEL WELLd. 39^
chiren gon, but my frim' tek *em. I can't fret
'gainst my frien\ Den I lif up my heart and say,
Well, Lord, you got 'em all now ; you aint lef me
one. Now den you come stay wid me, and I no
care. I tek you now in place o' all dem you tek
from me. So he come to me closer dan eber, an I
neber want for anybody else.*
" She gave me a pretty thought of the perpetuity
of Christian zeal beyond the present state. Speak-
ing of our late lamented Kennedy, she said :
'* ' Well, Mr. Kennedy he keep go and neber stop
till he drop down in de Master work. So you must
do too. All de dear minister what used to work
wid him must do so too. Mr. Kennedy gone, but
dat spirit Mr. Kennedy had he carry wid him.
And you tink Mr. Kennedy do notin' in heaven?
He no Stan still for God here, he no stan still dere.
lie ministerin* spirit. He fly like de angel to help
de work on.'
" Taking leave of her, she slipped a half-dollar
into ray hand. ' The poor have the gospel preached
unto them, and the poor are the principal supporters
of the gospel,* said I, as I perceived the piece she
had deposited with me.
"'I take this the more thankfully for the mis-
sions, because, in these hard times, it is very sel-
dom I have money put into my hand unasked, even
for so good a cause ; and may God repay you mani-
fold in this present life.'
" ' Dat, sir, if you please, you tek for a token o'
17*
894 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
de lub I hab for you for Christ sake. T'ank
God, I hab dis oder one for de missionary — all for
Christ.'
I felt exceedingly humble," added the Doctor.
The missions were worthy Maum Rachel's half-
dollar, I knew ; I felt that I was not."
Let no one say that Christianity, before the sub-
lime truths of which an archangel might well stand
uncovered, is not at the same time adapted to the
intellectual capacity of the lowliest of the children
of earth. Could a synod of divines have set forth
more strikingly the true doctrine in regard to " the
means of grace" than Maum Rachel did? They
were necessary for her in ordinary circumstances,
but providentially precluded from them, the blessed
Jesus had a shorter way to her than by Trinity
Church ! What a depth of divine philosophy is
unfolded in the thought, so clearly conceived,
though uttered in broken English !
And where can we find the evangelical ground
for resignation under the loss of friends and
children more touchingly presented to view than in
the sublime idea that a Divine friend has removed
them, and loyalty to that friend demands unques-
tioning submission to behests that must be kind as
well as wise ? And then humble love comes closer
to that Divine friend, and takes him in the place of
all who had been taken away, and finds more than
all in the more intimate fellowship of the spirit
with him.
RACHEL WELLS. 895
It might be supposed that in the mind of an illit-
erate African woman, any notion of the employ-
ments of the heavenly world must of necessity
be very crude and material — rest from labor,
abodes of indolent pleasure, the antithesis in its
glittering types of sensuous enjoyment to the stern
conditions of the earthly lot. Not a word of it in
the instance of Rachel Wells. There is more than
Miltonic grandeur in the thought that the faithful
minister of Christ carries with him into the eternal
state the spirit which prompted and sustained a life
of laborious zeal for Christ. That spirit never
faltered here; its wing of active exertion never
drooped ; a subordinate agent in the plans of the
Divine economy, it never stood still for God on
earth. Trained into habitual vigor by the prepar-
atory discipline of the present life, that same spirit
will not stand still in the celestial world. A min-
istry of benevolent enterprise, embodying modes
of action, sentiment, aftection, that have been
trained on earth, measures out the successive stages
of its jubilant ascent on the path of eternal life.
We may clothe the thought in the starry robes of
gorgeous language ; or we may look at it in the
severe simplicity of the most homely words, it is
very much the same. It is a thought that we do
not find in all the imperial range of Greek and
Roman and Oriental learning — nowhere outside of
the Book of God.
The reader is suflficiently interested, we trust, in
Racliol Wells, to allow us to add a word or two
LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
more. She was at the time of her death. August,
1819, the oldest member of the Charleston Me-
thodist church, white or colored. She was the first
colored person who joined the society, at the time
when the first religious meetings were held at the
house of her master, Mr. Edgar Wells. She saw
the foundation laid of the first Cumberland Street
Church — a year or two after the close of the war of
the Revolution. She outlived two generations of
Methodists, a beautiful example of the power of
religion to make a servant upright and happy. A
short time before her death, we had the pleasure
of an interview with her. She conversed just as
one likes to hear an aged disciple talk. Her
thoughts seemed equally divided between the past
and tlie future. She told us the story of the first
planting of Methodism in Charleston ; and dwelt
with affectionate reverence upon the memory of
her master, who was instrumental in bringing her
to God. The anticipation of meeting him and the
various members of the family, in heaven, gave
transport to her heart. But after indulging for some
moments anticipations that rested on human rela-
tionships, she added, that all this was nothing in
comparison to the joy she felt in the prot^pect of
meeting that Saviour who died for her, whose like-
ness God*s word assured her she should for ever
bear. This love of Christ was to her, as it has
been to millions, the antidote to death. Kindled in
her heart at her conversion to God in early life, it
had been the guiding light, the protecting glory
RACMBL WBLL6.
of a religious profession extending through seventy
years, and, with a ray serene as the morning star,
it shone upon the last hour of mortal life, then
brightened into immortality.
898 LITB OV WILI.IAM OAPBBS.
CHAPTER XIII.
General Conference at New Tork — Debate on Finley's resolution-*
Incipient measures for a division of the Church.
Nbar the close of April, 1844, Dr. Capers left
Charleston to attend the General Conference, held
at New Tork, as one of the delegates from the
South Carolina Conference. His home during the
session was at the residence of Mr. Fletcher Har-
per, where he found his friends Olin and Durbiu.
The anti-slavery fanaticism of the Eastern and
Northern portion of the Methodist Episcopal Church,
reached a crisis at this General Conference, and it
turned out to be the last at which delegates from
the Southern and Northern Conferences met in one
assembly.
At the close of the first week the appeal of the
llev. F. Harding, of the Baltimore Conference, was
taken up. On the 11th May, it was decided, on a
motion to reverse the decision of the Baltimore
Conference, by fifty-six ayes to one hundred and
seventeen nays. "I confess," said Dr. Capers,
" that both in the action of the Baltimore Confer-
ence in the case of Harding, and the action of the
General Conference on his appeal, in which the de-
CASE OF BISHOP ANDREW. 899
cision of the Baltimore Conference was afRrmed, a
fancied purity from the defilement ' of the great
evil of slavery,' appeared a Moloch at whose altar
humanity, justice, equity, seemed to be sacrificed."
This case was invested with higher interest, as
it showed the strength of the two parties in refer-
ence to a more important case, that of Bishop
Andrew, who, it was found, had become "con-
nected with slavery." The Bishop, ascertaining
that a strong excitement was growing up against
him on this account, had solicited an interview
with the delegates of the Southern Conferences,
and proposed, if they wished it, to resign his oflice
for the sake of peace. They unhesitatingly de-
clined any assent to such a proposal ; but, on the
contrary, assured the Bishop that he could not
procure peace by such a sacrifice ; that his resigna-
tion would imply submission to an unjust and in-
jurious censorship, and would involve an utter
abandonment of Southern interests.
On the 14th May, Dr. Capers introduced in the
General Conference the following resolution : "In
view of the distracting agitation which has so long
prevailed on the subject of slavery and abolition,
and especially the difiBculties under which we labor
in the present General Conference, on account of
the relative position of brethren North and South
on this perplexing question ; therefore.
Resolved^ That a committee of three from the
North, and three from the South, be appointed to
confer with the Bishops, and report within two
400 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
days, as to the possibility of adopting some plan,
and what, for the permanent pacification of the
Church/'
This proposition was received with general fevor,
and a committee was accordingly raised, with Dr.
Capers as chairman. After several ineffectual
attempts to lay down a basis of agreement satisfac-
tory to both parties, the committee reported their
failure, and were discharged from any further con-
sideration of the subject. This failure satisfied
all thoughtful minds that the dismemberment of
the Church was an event inevitable. The knell of
the Church-union was alreadj^ sounded. The dif-
ficulty was unmanageable by human wisdom or
power.
The first formal action in the case of Bishop
Andrew was taken May 20th, at the instance of a
member of the Baltimore delegation. On the 22d
a resolution was introduced by another member of
the same delegation, affectionately requesting the
Bishop to resign his office. On the 23d, a sub-
stitute was offered by Mr. Finley^ of Ohio, resolving
that it was the sense of the General Conference
that Bishop Andrew desist from the exercise of his
office so long as the impediment of his connection
with slavery should remain.
The broad ground on which the Northern mem-
bers rested their plea was that of expediency. No
attempt was made to show that the Bishop had
violated any law of the Book of Discipline, or any
pledge given at the time of his election io the
-•« -— •^^V' 4^j0.nwA
DR. WIN AN S. 401
Episcopacy, that he would never become a slave-
holder. But inasmuch as it was held impossible
for him to exercise his functions in an Annual
Conference where the anti-slavery spirit prevailed
to a fanatical extent, while at the same time as a
!6ishop he was a general superintendent, it was
maintained that he had disqualified himself for his
office, and must desist from exercising it any-
where. To this the Southern members replied,
that the expediency was wholly on one side of this
question ; that the measure, however expedient for
the ISTorth, would be fearfully ruinous to the inter-
ests of the Church in the South. A distinct,
strong, unanimous testimony was delivered on that
point.
Dr. Winans, of the Mississippi Conference, made
the first speech on the Southern side. Dr. Capers
the last. Very able and impressive speeches were
also made by Dr. W. A. Smith, of Virginia, by the
Pierces, father and son, and Dr. Longstreet, of
Georgia, Mr. Stringfield, of Holston, Dr. A. L. P.
Green, of Tennessee, and others. Dr. Winans was
an impetuous speaker, after the Greek model;
very plain in attire and appearance, wearing no
cravat, making no fiourishes. But if any adver-
sary supposed that this unpretending exterior indi-
cated a mind of ordinary calibre, he very soon
changed his opinion. Massive strength, put in
motion by a glowing spirit, furnished a mighty
momentum, which struck like the swell of the sea
when stormy winds rule the waters. "Sir,*' he
26
40S LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
fisidy '^ by the vote contemplated by this body, aad
BoUcited by this reaolutiony you will render it ex*
pedieut — nay, more, you render it indispensable-
nay, more, you render it uncontrollably necessary that
a large portion of the Church — ^and permit me to
add, a portion always conformed in their views axid
practices to the Discipline of the Church — ^I say
that by this vote you render it indispensably, ay,
uncontrollably necessary, that that portion of the
Church should — ^I dread to pronounce the word,
but you understand me. Yes, sir, you create an
uncontrollable necessity that there should be a dis-
connection of that large portion of the Church from
your body. It is not because there are prejudices
waked up by unceasing agitation, year after year,
in opposition to the spirit and language of the
Discipline, but it arises out of the established laws
of society — from a state of things under the control
of political and civil government, which no minister
of the gospel can control or influence in the smallest
degree. If you press this action in the mildest
form in which you approach the Bishop, you will
throw every minister in the South kors du combat ;
you will cut us off from all connection with masters
and servants ; and will leave us no option — God is
my witness that I speak with all sincerity of pur^
pose toward you — ^but to be disconnected with your
body. If such necessity exists on your part to
drive this man from his oflSice, we reassert that
this must be the result of your action in this matter.
We have no will, no choice in the thing. It
SPEECH IN BP. ANDREW'S CASE. 408
eoxnes upon us as destiny; it comes with over-
whelming force ; and all we can do is to submit to
it/'
These passages were delivered with the true De-
mosthenean force. The irrepressible emotion, the
"erect countenance," the flashing eye, and ringing
voice, the unfaltering prediction of consequences
that were to follow, and resound through all Me-
thodist history, made the speech memorable.
Dr. Capers spoke at the close of the twelve days*
debate. In many respects, he was the antithesis
of Dr. Winans. Fine finish in face, dress, de-
livery ; perfect command of voice and emotion ;
refinement of manner, and charm of grace and
urbanity ; keenness of intellect, and a firm hold on
the respect and kind feelings of the whole assem-
bly— all these combined elements gave him a favor-
able position, even at the close of a prolonged and
exciting debate. From the posture of parties, there
was no ground of hope left to any Southern mem-
ber that the contemplated measures could be ar-
rested. No vote could be changed by argument or
persuasion. It was rather to the whole country —
to posterity, that the appeal was felt to be made.
The first point Dr. Capers made was in respect
to the unity of the Church. His argument was in
substance this : Bishop Andrew is under arrest as
a slaveholder, because thereby he has made it im-
possible for himself to exercise in the non-slave-
holding States his Episcopal functions. Very
well. You maintain that a General Conference ip
404 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPBRS.
the supreme power in the Church, to which the
Bishops are subordinate and responsible. How
absurd is the clamor against a slaveholding Bishop,
as a contamination upon a part of the Church,
when the General Conference itself includes slave-
holders, who thus, by the very unity of the Church,
connect these immaculate Conferences inextricabl3'
with " the great evil !" '' Yes, sir,** he said, " they
and I are brethren, whether they will or no. The
same holy hands have been laid upon their heads
and upon my head. The same vows which they
have taken, I have taken. At the same altar where
they minister, do I minister; and with the same
words mutually on our tongues. We are the same
ministry, of the same Church ; not like^ but idenii-
cal. Are they Elders ? So am L Spell the word.
There is not a letter in it which they dare deny me.
Take their measure. I am just as high as they are,
and they are as low as I am. We are not one
ministry for the North, and another ministry for
the South ; but one and one only, for the whole
Church.**
It could not have made his argument more
conclusive or irresistible, had he added, that by
virtue of this same unity and connectionalism of
the Church, he, a slaveholder, had himself been
called on by Northern as well as Southern votes to
represent the entire American Methodist Church,
a few years previously, before the British Wes-
leyan Conference. Had the lapse of these few
years altered the immutable law of Christian morals,
SPBECH IN BP. Andrew's case. 405
and made that to be wrong to-day which was per-
fectly right then ?
After a brief examination of the new doctrine
which had been impi^ovised to cover the approach-
ing action, that, namely, which held Bishops to be
merely officers of the General Conference, liable to
be set aside as class-leaders, at the mere pleasure
of a majority, and showing what a solemn farce
the consecration service would become on such a
supposition, Dr. Capers went on to exhibit the
unconstituiionalUy of the contemplated proceeding.
He maintained that whatever else the Constitution
of the Church might be, it must first be Christian,
and secondly, Protestant, and thirdly, consistent
with the great object for which the Methodist
Church was raised up, to spread scriptural holiness
over these lands. In elaborating this last point, he
showed how the proceedings against the Bishop
must impede the course of the ministr}^ in many of
the States, and debar access altogether to large
portions of the colored population. He was now
approaching a point of view where, from the very
office he had held under the General Conference
for the last four years — that of Missionary Secre-
tary for the South — he was entitled to speak with
the highest authority. If any man in America
could be supposed to be well informed on this sub-
ject, Dr. Capers was that man. And what was his
testimony? "Never, never,'* said he, "have I suf-
fered, as in view of the evil which this measure
threatens against the South. The agitation has
406 LIFBOF WILLIAM GAPSRS.
begun there ; and I tell you that though our hearts
were to be torn from our bodies, it could avail
nothing when once you have awakened the feeling
that we cannot be trusted among the slaves. Once you
have done this, you have effectually destroyed us. I could
wish to die sooner than live to see such a day. As
sure as you live, there are tens of thousands, nky,
hundreds of thousands, whose destiny may be
perilled by your decision on this case. When we
tell you that we preach to a hundred thousand
slaves in our missionary field, we only announce
the beginning of our work — ^the beginning openings
of the door of access to the most numerous masses
of slaves in the South. When we add that there
are two hundred thousand now within our reach
who have no gospel unless we give it to them, it is
still but the same announcement of the beginnings
of the opening of that wide and effectual door,
which was so long closed, and so lately has begun
to be opened, for the preaching of the gospel by
our ministry, to a numerous and destitute portion
of the people. 0 close not this door ! Shut us
not out from this great work, to which we have
been so signally called of God.'*
In this strain he went on to the conclusion of his
speech. Had it been within the possibility of
human agency to close or bridge the gulf of separa-
tion which yawned between the Northern an<i
Southern sections of the Church, this fervid^ teiU
ing, and powerful appeal to the Christian prin-
ciples and emotions of the majority, must hav^
SPEECH IK BP. ANDREW'S CASE. 407
done it. Were they not the very men, by eminence,
who were clamoring about the civil and social con-
dition of the negro population of the Southern
States ? But were they not, also, the very preachers
whose business it was to ask the question, " What
shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul?** Was it possible
that these men cared nothing for the souls of the
negroes ? Swallowed up, as some of them no
doubt were, in the abstractions of a fanaticism
which was blind to all spiritual and eternal inter-
ests ; and hardened as some of them possibly were
by the hypocritical cant of abolitionism, there was
yet enough of sound Christianity among the major-
ity of that General Conference, to feel the force of
those considerations — irresistible to a good man —
which in so touching a style this speech had set
before them. Why, then, did they carry out the
measure objected to on such weighty considera-
tions? The answer is, that all considerate men
among them saw that the time had come for a
separation. They meant to meet the emergency
with a steady determination to do justice to the
claims of that portion of the Church represented
by the minority. Subsequent acts show that they
are entitled to the justification found alone in such
a determination.
Dr. Few, of Georgia, whose want of health had
deprived the South of his important services as a
dirfegate, upon reading Dr. Capers's speech, made
408 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
the following remark : " I would be willing to risk
the whole cause upon that speech alone, with every
sound-minded, unprejudiced man, although he
should be required to read all that was said on the
opposite side."
This speech was made on Thursday, May 30th.
The Bishops requested that no afternoon session
should be held, in order that they might have time
for a consultation, in the hope that a compromise
might yet be eftected. On the next day the result
of this consultation was presented in a communi-
cation recommending a postponement of further
action in Bishop Andrew's case until the ensuing
General Conference. This forlorn- hope proposition
came to nothing ; and on the day following, June
1st, the vote was taken, and Mr. Finley's resolution
was adopted — one hundred and eleven members
voting in the affirmative, and sixty-nine in the
negative.
Dr. L. Pierce then rose and gave notice that a
protest would be presented against the action of
the majority, by the Southern delegations. This
masterly paper was drawn up and read by Dr.
Bascom. On Monday, June 3, Dr. Capers intro-
duced a series of resolutions recommending the
Annual Conferences to suspend the constitutional
restrictions, so as to allow the existence. .of two
General Conferences, one for the States North, and
one for the States in which slavery exists. These
were referred to a committee of nine, who reported
PLAN OF SEPARATION. 409
on the 5th that they could not agree upon any thing
which they judged would be acceptable to the Con-
ference.
Dr. Longstreet then, in behalf of the Southern
and South-western Conferences, presented the fol-
lowing declaration : " The delegates of the Con-
ferences in the slaveholding States take leave to
declare to the General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, that the continued agitation of
the subject of slavery and abolition in a portion of
the Church, the frequent action on that subject in
the General Conference, and especially the extra-
judicial proceedings against Bishop Andrew, which
resulted, on Saturday last, in the virtual suspension
of him from his office as Superintendent, must
produce a state of things in the South which ren-
ders a continuance of the jurisdiction of that Gen-
eral Conference over these Conferences inconsistent
with the success of the ministry in the slavehold-
ing States.'*
This declaration was then referred to a committee
of nine. Dr. Paine, of Tennessee, being chairman.
They were instructed by a formal resolution to de-
vise, if possible, a constitutional plan for a mutual
and friendly division of the Church, provided they
could not devise a plan for an amicable adjustment
of the difficulties existing on the subject of slavery.
The next day Dr. Paine brought in a Plan of
Separation, which allowed the Annual Confer-
ences in the slaveholding States to unite in a dis-
tinct ecclesiastical connection, should they find it
18
410 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPSRS.
necesRar}' ; and which fixed the territorial limits of
the Churches North and South ; allowed ministers
of every grade to determine their ecclesiastical
connection ; gave up to the Southern organization
all rights of property in meeting-houses, parson-
ages, colleges, schools, Conference ftinds, cemeteries,
and the like ; and provided for the fair division of
the Book Concern as soon as the Annual Confer-
ences should remove the restriction on the powers
of the General Conference to do so. This plan
evidently made the Southern Conferences judges
of the necessity of division, and referred but a
single point — that of the pro rata division of the
Book Concern — to the whole body of Annual
Conferences. The unanimity with which this great
scheme of separation was voted by the Gkneral
Conference, was alike honorable to the judgments
and hearts of the majority. There is no doubt
that, under the provisions of this plan of separa-
tion, the Southern organization would have been
amicably carried through, and the Book Concern
fund divided without an appeal to legal tribunals,
had th^ official journal of the Northern Church
adopted a pacific and conciliatory policy. Unfor-
tunately, this organ, so powerful for moulding pub-
lic opinion, was in the hands of a person wholly
unsuited to the emergency. To great and ac-
knowledged ability, there was united in his charac-
ter an overweening sense of self-importance. Be
Wfts the Palinurus who could steer the ship through
§torm and shoal. He would maintain the unity
LEGAL DECISION. 411
and integrity of the Church, all the Hotspurs of the
South to the contrary notwithstanding. The paper
conducted by him circulated extensively in the
South : he would make its influence there more
powerful to control opinion than the united influ-
ence of the representatives of the Southern Con-
ferences; more powertUl than the sense of iiyurj
among a high-spirited people, impatient of foreign
interference and dictation in their domestic con-
cerns. It is needless to add that a signal failure
followed all these vain conceits. The only success
accomplished was a defeat of the measure proposed
in respect to a division of the Book Concern. And,
notwithstanding the vigorous attempts of this press
to fix the odium of secession upon the Southern
Church, which would invalidate their just claim
to a portion of the common fund, the Northern
Conferences, by an aflirmative vote of one thousand
one hundred and sixty-four against one thousand
and sixty-seven in the negative, expressed their
sense of the righteousness of the Southern claim.
There lacked but two hundred and sixty-nine votes
to make up the constitutional majority of two-
thirds requisite to alter the restrictive rule. The
courts of law subsequently, as it is well known,
gave the Southern Church what was due to it.
The opinion was expressed by one <yf the eminent
legal gentlemen who managed the case for the
Southern Commissioners, that whatever took place
afterward, through mischiefs growing out of the press,
the General Conference, when it agreed to the
412 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAFBRS.
division, did it harmoniously, kindly, and in the
expectation of a kind communion afterward. And
mischief, and nothing but mischief, grew out of
the unhappy course of the press aforementioned.
It reminds one of the fisherman in the Arabian
story, whose persevering industry first fished up a
basket of slime, and then the carcass of an ass,
and finally dragged out a malevolent genie, that
was potent enough for harm.
Dr. Capers was appointed, at the ensuing session
of the South Carolina Conference, Superintendent
of the missions to the blacks in Georgia, Alabama,
and South Carolina; and elected a delegate to the
Convention held at Louisville, Kentuckj% at which
the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, was or-
ganized. As Chairman of the Committee on Mis-
sions, he drew up a circular letter, to be sent by
the Convention to all the churches of the new
Connection, forcibly presenting the claims of that
important department under the new aspects which
had opened upon Southern Methodism. He also
wrote the Pastoral Address — a paper admirable in
its tone, and equal to the occasion, yet inculcating
the purest spirit of peace and love, and breathing
the warmest attachment to the doctrines and dis-
cipline, the economy and usages of primitive Ameri-
can Methodism.
OKDAINED BISHOP. 418
CHAPTER XIV.
Elected and ordained Bishop— First tour of Episcopal Yisitations —
Travels through the border territory of the Virginia Conference.
At the close of the year 1845 Dr. Capers was
stationed at Columbia. Here, at the request of the
South Carolina Conference, he revised the catechism
for the use of the negro missions, which he had
prepared some years previously, adding a second
part, comprehending a brief outline of the history
of redemption. This was submitted to the Com-
mittee on Missions at the General Conference at
f
Petersburg, and adopted by the Conference, and
ordered to be introduced into the missions generally.
In the spring of 1846 he attended the session of
the first General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South. On the 7th of May, he
and Dr. R. Paine were elected Bishops. On the.
14th they were consecrated to their high and holy
office. At 12 o'clock the interesting solemnity
took place, at the Washington Street Church.
Bishop Andrew opened the service by singing the
463d hymn, commencing,
** Saviour of men, thy searching eye
Doth all ray inmost thoughts descry :
Doth aught on earth my wishes raise,
Or the world's pleasure, or its praise t
414 LIFB OV WILIflAM GAPERS.
'*The loye of Christ doth me constrain
To seek the wandering souls of men ;
With cries, entreaties, tears, to saye,
To snatch them from the gaping graye."
After extemporaneous prayer, the Bishops-elect
were presented, Dr. Capers by Dr. Pierce, and Dr.
Paine by Mr. Early. The Collect, Epistle, and
Gospel were read by Bishop Andrew ; the questions
to the Bishops-elect were proposed by Bishop Soule,
who, together with Bishop Andrew and the elders
presenting, laid their hands upon the heads of the
Bishops-elect, with the consecrating formula. The
Bible was then delivered to them with the accom-
panying charge. The benediction, preceded by
suitable prayers, closed the solemn service.
The following letter written to Mrs. Capers on
the occasion will be read with interest: "I left
you for the General Conference not knowing what
was before me. None of the brethren in our quar-
ter had spoken to me, none from a distance had
written to me, about my being put into the Epis-
copacy ; and after I came here, up to the hour of
the election, the subject was scarcely named except
in the most incidental manner. I thought not of
being made Bishop. The result took me by
surprise. And I am glad that it was so sudden,
for the very suddenness of it made it more effectual
to rouse me to (what I trust humbly in God's
mercy may prove) the final conflict. All or
nothing, now and for life, come what may, to me
and mine, seemed to be the question involved ; and
FIINSSS FOB THE OPISCOPAOY. 415
thank God, I felt that however low my spirit had
been depressed in past conflicts, struggling with
adversity, I was still Christian enough, and Chris-
tian minister enough, to decide without hesitancy.
Indeed, you know that in all the past, the bitter-
ness of the cup has never been so much the amount
of difficulties I have had to contend with, as that
cruel, insupportable insinuation that those diffi-
culties were on account of the Lord's controversy,
with me for having once yielded to temptation and
left the work. I felt that the favor of God and the
confidence of the Church was our best estate, and
best patrimony for our children; and whether or
not, I dare not, I would not draw back. To-day I
feel that we all are on the altar together ; and O,
have I not felt that ' the altar sanctifieth the gift T
I have only to cast all my care on God, all my
multiform unworthiness on his Divine goodness
and condescension in Christ, and go on. I have
so reverenced the work and office of a Bishop and
the Bishops themselves, that that itself embarrasses
me. I cannot feel myself a Bishop ; but, thank
God, I feel what is better— an abiding sense of
being accepted of him, in an humble and sincere
devotion of myself, without stint, to his service.**
It was highly honorable to Dr. Capers that he
should have been elected in the manner just related.
His high character, his known devoJipn to thb
itinerant ministry, and his past services, rendered
unnecessary the slightest effort on the part of his
friends to secure his election. It is no wonder,
116 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
indeed, that the thing should have taken him bj
surprise, for his unaffected humility led him to
consider many of his brethren more suitable for
the office than himself. Such a self- estimate,
among all right-minded men, is the unfailing* con-
comitant of that class of abilities required for the
peculiarly difficult and delicate functions of a
Methodist Bishop. What minister of Christ,
•properly aware of the responsibilities attached to
the Episcopal office in the Methodist Church, and
especially if surrounded by the endearments of the
family circle, would not unhesitatingly say, nolo
episcojyari^ if the matter were left to his own choice ?
Bishop Paine was called, by the plan of visitation
adopted at the time he was made Bishop, to a
seven months* absence from home, one brief visit
excepted. Surely no honor attached to the office,
apart from the constraint of imperative duty, could
be an equivalent for self-sacrifice of this kind.
The plan of Episcopal visitations assigned to
Bishop Capers the Holston, Virginia, North Caro-
lina, Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida Con-
ferences, as his first tour. These visitations
occupied him from October to February. The
Holston Conference was held at Wytheville, Va.
Leaving home late in September, he passed through
Asbfe'ville, down the French Broad, and attended
a camp-meeting at Parrottsville, Tenn. *'The
meeting," he says, "was a good one, the number
of conversions above forty, and of persons joining
the Church, fifty. The French Broad has been
-^
.'. V
GBOROE WELLS. 417
celebrated for its scenery by all who have travelled
along its rocky shores ; but I esteem the scenery
which now and then opens to the traveller along
the road I have travelled since I left the French
Broad, much more delightful. On the French
Broad, every thing is bold and rugged, but you
are always shut in to a scene of the same general
features, without any extensive view — the water
hurrying along down its rocky bed at your feet,
and the high hills closely shutting up the prospect.
But there are spots, coming from Parrottsville to
Col. Earnest's, beyond Greensville, where I now
am, at which you see on the right hand, south-
eastwardly, eastwardly, and north-eastwardly, ranges
of mountains lying at all distances, from five
to thirty miles; while on the left hand an im-
mense valley of meadow-lands and hills, along
the NoUichucky river, opens as far as you can see,
with mountains at great distances diversifying the
scene with exquisite pictures of the bosom of
nature. There is no country in America so fine as
this for its natural scenery ; and the lands are very
rich. Nor have you to climb to the tops of moun-
tains to enjoy the prospects I have alluded to. All
the country between different ranges of mountains
is called a valley, though it may be as uneven as
Newton county, Ga. ; and along any line of road
passing through a valley you will be almost always
in view of some mountain-range, and frequently of
several ranges at various distances. Three nights
ago, I stayed with George Wells, and the next day
27
118 LIFE OV WILLIAM CAPERS.
met with Stephen Brooks, of the first generation
of Methodist preachers. Brooks began travelling
in 1789, and Wells a j'ear or two after. At the
house of old brother Wells I was at one of the
resting-places of Bishop Asbury, and one at which
he stopped in the tour when I first met with him,
after I had commenced the work of the itinerant
ministry.*'
On this route. Bishop Capers visited Emory aud
Henry College, and was so much pleased that he
wrote a highly complimentary notice of the insti-
tution for the columns of the Southern Christian
Advocate. Thence he went to Abingdon, and
reached Wytheville, the seat of the Holston Con-
ference, almost oppressed with the kind and con-
stant attentions shown him. After the session of
the Conference he spent a day or two with Mrs.
Preston, the daughter of Major Hart, an old
Columbia friend.
Prom Wytheville he crossed the mountains and
went to Mecklenburg county, where the Virginia
Conference was held, at Randolph Macon College.
Of these two Conferences he says : " I have been
much blessed in my official labors, and am bound
ntore than ever to devote myself to them. During
the Conferences, both at Wytheville and Randolph
Macon, I have enjoyed uncommon serenity and
elevation of mind. God has blessed me with the
light of his countenance, and the preachers have
ti*eated me with the most affectionate kindness.'*
After attending the North Carolina Conference
EPISCOPAL VISITATIONS. 419
at Newbern, he reached home about the middle of
December, and spent a day or two with his family.
The Georgia Conference convened at Macon,
December 23d; the session was a very pleasant
one under the presidency of Bishop Capers. After
holding the South Carolina Conference at Charles-
ton, he left early in February for Quincy, the seat
of the Florida Conference. On his way he spent
several days at the house of his old and honored
friend, Mr. Charles Munnerlyn, where he was
kindly cared for after a very fatiguing journey.
This was made in a leaky, half-curtained hack,
inflicting on him extreme exposure in bad weather,
and bringing on in a short time great stricture of
the respiratory organs, and inflammation of the
bronchia. He sutfered at times extremelv from
this attack, for two years, when in the spring of
1849, by God's gracious providence, and without
the least instrumentality of human means, he was
relieved of it.
After a pleasant and profitable session of the
Florida Conference, he spent a Sunday in Talla-
hassee, and another in Madison, Florida, being
accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Michau, who had
tendered the Bishop a seat in his buggy. He
reached Charleston about the middle of March,
having spent nearly seven months in this first
round of Episcopal visitations. His family were
shortly after removed to a commodious residence
in the upper part of the city, which had been put
ttt his service by the kindrvess of bis firieods* -
120 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
The Virginia Conference lay within Bishop Ca-
pers's district during the year 1847. Excitement
was running high in the "border" circuits, and it
was thought desirable that he should travel through
them. A special invitation having been sent him,
he set out on a visit to that part of Virginia on the
18th May. The following diary gives an account
^f his movements:
'^ "At Wilmington, May 19, several brethren were
^waiting my arrival at the wharf. It was arranged
that I should stay with brother Thomas Smith.
Preached at night; some forty mourners at the
altar, and several conversions. Prayer-meeting
next morning. After preaching at night, a still
greater number at the altar than the night before,
and several converted. Got to Richmond early
Saturday mornjpg, May 22. Preached twice on
Sunday. Attended the Sunday-school celebration
of the Centenary and Clay street Sunday-schools
on Monday. Left Richmond by the railroad to
Gordons ville. 26th, preached at night. Thurs-
day, carried over roads rough enough, fourteen
miles to Col. J. Walker's ; dined and was sent in
his carriage to Madison Court-house. Preached at
night. Friday, at 2 o'clock, got on a smooth-walk-
ing pony, for the enterprise of over the mountain
on horseback. Nine miles got me to brother B.
Conway's, where dismissed the pony, and got Kate,
a pleasant, never-tiring nag. Rode on nine miles
farther, over hills and little mountains, to brother
S. Kennedy's. Saturday morning, set out early.
WBStBRN VIRGINIA. 421
(rocks, rocks,) and went over the Blue Ridge, by
Swift-Run gap, to the Quarterly Meeting at Elk
Run, fifteen or sixteen miles, and right to preach-
ing. Less tired after the preaching than before.
Preaching and sacrament on Sunday. Monday, 31st,
to Harrisonburg, twenty miles, and preached at
night. Again at 11 A. M., and at night Tuesday.
On Wednesday rode Kate Conway to my friend
Jennings's, at Elk Run, twenty miles, to dinner;
and after dinner, over the Blue Ridge, and one or
two spurs of mountains on the eastern side, to
brother McMuUan's. He computes the distance
from Harrisonburg at thirty-eight miles — mind that
— ^thirty-eight miles on horseback, crossing the Blue
Ridge, and a mountain cliflf besides, and the miles
none of the shortest. Thursday, June 3d, nine
miles to Wolftown, alias^ Trinity Church, and
preached. A piece of cold ham and bread after
preaching, and then off" fifteen miles to Col. James
Walker's, to preach at 6 o'clock P. M. Friday, left
Col. Walker's at 7J A. M. Got to Culpepper
Court-house to dinner, and after dinner on to the
White Sulphur Springs. I feel as comfortably as I
could wish ; thanks to the best riding nag I ever
rode; thanks to the mountain air; thanks to the
ever-varied scenery of mountain and meadows, and
wide-spreading prospects over hills and dales,
covered with wheat fields and clover ; thanks to the
sweet-singing birds ; and, above all, thanks to Him
who is in all, and over all, and above all. Kate
Conway and the saddlebags in preference to rail-
^2 LIFE OF WILt^IAM OAi»fiHS«
roads, steamboats, or stages, for a Bishop at hL|
work.
"Preached twice on Sabbath at Warrenton,
Fauquier county. On Monday rode some thirteen
miles to a small town called Salem, and preached,-
and afterwards rode as much farther to the resi-
dence of Dr. Taliaferro, just under the Blue Ridge.
Tuesday: preached at Farrowsville, two miles this
side of the Doctor's ; dined with a fine lady, Mrs.
Ashby, with a large company; and after dinner
rode on to sister Carter's, below Salem. Nine
miles on Wednesday morning brought me to Bethel,
where, after preaching, I dined with an excellent
brother named Blackwell. Here, too, we had some
twenty people to dinner; and after they had dined
and seen the Bishop, I rode to Warrenton, where I
had an appointment, and preached at night, The
congregations at every place have been large. The
whole of this circuit adhered South last year, and
its present preachers were sent from the Virginia
Conference. No wonder that the Baltimore
preachers feel sore. To lose such a country, and
such a people ! and with the aggravation of know-
ing that the loss is to be continually increasing, tijl
all this fine portion of the Old Dominion has ad-
hered South. June 10th I left Warrenton with my
amiable travelling companion, Dr. Buckner, for
Fredericksburg, being still mounted on the incom-
parable Kate Conway. Passed the night at tho
residence of one of the best specimens of a saintly
old Methodist lady, in one of the best specimens ,
MADISON'S BIRTHPLACE. 428
of an old-time cottage-house, with a bower before it
of all sorts of vines, and every thing in it as sim-
ple and sweet as purity itself might desire. June
11, reached Fredericksburg, which still belongs to
the Baltimore Conference. Put up at Sanford's
United States Hotel.
"The next morning, Saturday, left Fredericks-
burg at 6 o'clock, in the steamboat Planter. Fare-
well to my good Kate Conway. At 9 o'clock
reached Port Conway, having first touched at Port
Royal, where Dr. Penn, Presiding Elder of Rich-
mond District, met me, with whom I travelled very
cleverly in his two-horse barouche, over fine, smooth
roads. Our first meeting was for that day and
Sunday, and was continued Monday, at a church
six miles north-east from Port Conway. This Port
Conway is little more than a stopping-place where
the boats take in wood ; but it is notable for the
fact that Mr. Madison was born there. The spot
where the house stood in which he was born was
pointed out to me in an oat-field, about two hundred
yards from the landing-place, and quite near the road
leading up from the landing-place. I say the spot
and not the house was pointed out, for there was
no vestige of the house remaining. It is remarka-
ble that Washington, Madison, and Monroe were
born in the same county — Westmoreland : though
that county being afterwards divided, the new
county. King George, took in the birthplace of
Madison. Here, too, in Westmoreland lived Henry
Lee, the great colonel of cavalry, to whom South
424 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
Carolina in particular was so much indebted in the
Revolutionary war. Col. Lee's place was on the
Potomac, and called Stratford Hall.
" Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I preached at
the Union Church, King George county, mentioned
above, and Sunday night went across the Rappa-
hannock and preached in the clever little town of
Port Royal, opposite to Port Conway. Tuesday,
preached at Oak Grove, eight miles east from Union.
Wednesday, at Westmoreland Court-house. Thurs-
day, at Bethel, ten miles east from the Court-house.
Saturday and Sunday, attended a Quarterly Meet-
ing at Henderson's Chapel. Monday, 21st, rode
thirty miles, or more, to Rehoboth, in Lancaster
county, and preached there on Tuesday, and on
Wednesday at White Chapel, in the same county.
Congregations have been very large at all my ap-
pointments, and the friends where I have stayed on
my route kind and affectionate. There is no por-
tion of Virginia, or of our whole territory, more
interesting than this border territory : a fertile and
beautiful country, and exceedingly well peopled."
Bishop Capers reached home early in July from
this tour of vigorous and successful labors. His
account of it reminds one of the palmiest days of
Francis Asbury and John Wesley. Really, for a
man at his time of life, troubled with asthma
occasionally, this was severe work. But there
never was any lack of the "go-ahead" principle in
Dr. Capers. His friend. Dr. Olin, once said of him,
that he could do more hard work than any man of
**AS MUCH AS t^ ME Is/* 425
his acquaintance. Those who knew him best
knew that he needed no spur. He was, con-
sequently, a little exposed to over-action when
abroad among strangers. He had reached a period
when there was a considerable diminution of
strength to "endure hardness,'* while at the same
time there was no sensible decline of manly spirit.
His motto was, "As much as in me is ;" and he
never knew when that much had been expended,
while he still had spirit enough to go on.
426 LIFB OS WILJblAM CAPSBS.
CHAPTER XV.
Second tour of yisitations — The far West — Travels through the In-
dian Territory, Arkansas, Texas.
Bishop Capers's second tour of Episcopal visita-
tions embraced a period of nearly five months, and
reached from the Missouri river to Texas, taking in
the Indian Mission Conference. He left Charleston
September 9th, and reached Wheeling on the 16th.
The Ohio river was low, and he was compelled to
take passage in a small steamer of light draught,
into which more than a hundred passengers were
crowded. A tedious and uncomfortable passage
got him to Louisville, Kentucky, too late to take
part in the annual meeting of the Bishops and
Mission Committee. As cold weather came on, his
health began to droop somewhat, and asthma
showed itself. By low water he was compelled to
take stage to St. Louis. This involved incessant
travelling during three days and two nights entire;
and he reached St. Louis on the 25th September.
The fatigue was too much for him, and he found
it advisable to lie up for a day or two, at the resi-
dence of his nephew, the Rev. Thomas H. Capers.
On the 28th he set out in a light travelling wagon,
IN MissouKi. 427;
with his nephew and the Presiding Elder of the
district, for Glasgow, the seat of the Missouri Con-
ference, distant one hundred and seventy-five miles.
He stood the drive, rough as it was occasionally,
very well, and arrived in time to attend to the ordi-
nation services on Sunday. At this Conference five
preachers were admitted into the travelling conneo
tion, and fifty-one stationed.
The Conference adjourned October 7th, and he
preached at Boonsville, twenty miles below Glas-
gow, on the Missouri river, the next night. From
this town, accompanied by Dr. Boyle and his
nephew, he set out for the St. Louis Conference*
They spent Sunday at Warsaw ; and before lep-vipg
next morning, the Bishop bought a saddle, bridle,
and other equipments for horseback travelling, at
the close of the approaching Conference. On Tues^
day afternoon, our travellers reached Ebenezer
camp-ground, in Greene county, Missouri, where
Bishop Capers opened the session of Conference
next morning. Asthma had been troubling hini ;
but the fine weather on those broad prairie lands
was continually improving his health. He preached
on Sunday to a great concourse of people, and
ordained both the deacons and elders, being en-
gaged two hours and a half in the whole service,
and feeling no particular harm from his exertions.
After a short and very agreeable session, the Con*
ference adjourned on Monday night. The Bishop
bought a horse — not quite a Kate Conway, bow*-
e^'er; sent his trunk back to St. Louis to be for-
4^8 LIFB OF WILLIAM OAPBRS.
warded to New Orleans; and once more in the
saddle, felt almost young again. Brother Joplin,
one of the preachers, was his travelling companion,
to whose kind attentions he felt himself much in-
debted.
Leaving the camp-ground on Tuesday morning,
he preached that night at Springfield to a crowded
house, and passed the night in a luxurious man-
sion, with a family of well-bred people, in the
Ozark Mountains. Thirty miles the next day
brought him to his stopping-place — an open house,
and not much of it. Another thirty miles made
the journey of Thursday. During the morning
the wind at south made the weather too warm for
an overcoat: at four o'clock, P.M., a sudden puff
from the north-west changed the temperature to
winter in an instant. There being rain the next
day, and the weather very cold, our travellers did
not start until afternoon, and failed to reach the
town of Fayetteville on Sunday. On Monday,
however, on getting into the town at eleven o'clock,
the Bishop found that he had to stop and preach, a
large congregation being in waiting. This led to
a further detention for dinner ; so that it was three
o'clock P. M. before he got again on the road.
Comfortable quarters that night. The next day
they were done with the Ozark Mountains.. "It
makes me stiff and sore," says the Bishop, "to
make a day's ride on horseback ; but the night re-
freshes me, and the morning finds me ready to
renew my toil." Passed through Van Buren — a
\
INDIAN MISSION CONFERENCE. 129
town on the Arkansas river, five miles from the
Indian line — on the 26th. Thence to Fort Coffee
Mission Station, a beautiful situation, on a high
hill, immediately over the river Arkansas, eight or
ten miles west of the State of Arkansas. He had
time to spend only a night here, and was struck
with the supper-scene. "The custom is to have
family prayer at supper. Supper on table, the boys,
fifty in number, were all seated with their faces
outward when we went in. I read a short lesson,
sang a hymn with them, and prayed ; after which
grace was said, and supper dispatched."
From Fort Coffee, Bishop Capers set off the next
morning under the escort of some half-dozen agree-
able preachers, who were on the way to the seat of
the Indian Mission Conference, one hundred and
fifty miles distant. Hardships here and there — a
supper not to be described — sl breakfast which
made some of the company leave the table, as
though stricken with sea-sickness; farther on, a
fine turkey cut up into bits, and boiled until all
taste is lost, and the pieces served at table to be
eaten with corn-bread ; boiled pork, fresh from the
knife, without salt — (evidently there are few M.
Soyers to preside at the Indian cuisine ;) and then,
the condition of things here and there suggesting,
on going to bed, the danger of getting up with the
itch! — all this to the contrary, our good Bishop
goes on, stage after stage, improving in health, and
in the best spirits, until, arriving at Doaksville, the
Beat of the Conference, he finds excellent q^uarters at
i80 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APSB8.
the house of an Indian widow lady, where he sleeps
on downy pillows, in a mahogany bedstead, sur-
rounded by all the appliances of high civiliza-
tion.
The Indian Mission Conference was composed
of thirty-three preachers, thirteen of whom were
Indians. Some of them had travelled five hundred
miles to attend Conference. The Bishop thus de-
scribes the exercises of Sunday : " I consented, at
the earnest desire of the brethren, to have the ordi-
nations and to preach, at the camp-ground, two
miles from Doaksville, for the greater accommoda-
tion of the Indian audience. The ground is an
area of perhaps an acre and a half, enclosed with a
rail fence. There is in the middle of the ground
a well-built roof, some forty by sixty feet, on sub-
stantial posts, with a shed at the pulpit end, some
twenty feet wide, for the negroes, and the usual
altar-place before the pulpit — all as with us. There
are eleven tents made of plank or slabs, and well
covered, the rest of the space being probably occu-
pied at camp-meetings with tents of a more mov-
able kind. I suppose the congregation may have
numbered one thousand, of whom about a hundred
and fifty were blacks, and about fifty whites. Pro-
bably half of the whole, or more, understood Eng-
lish well enough to understand me. Opened the
dervice with singing the 508th hymn, L. M. ; and
after prayer, read the 19th Psalm, and part of the
17th chapter of St. Luke ; verse by verse, as I read,
h^ng put into Choetaw by brother Page. The
PREACHING TO THE INDIANS. 431
text was an old one with me, but perhaps seldom
before so appropriate, Luke xvii. 7-10. Having
finished the sermon, I instantly beckoned Page to
my side, and addressed, by sentences, those Choc-
taws who had not understood my preaching. I
fold them that never having tried to preach through
an interpreter, and having a great deal to say to the
ministers and others, I had not ventured it on that
occasion. Bait it pained my heart that I was not
able to make mj'^self understood to them. I loved
them very much — prayed earnestly for them, and
that God would make my brethren a great blessing
to them — there was a world before ns with one
language only — no need of an interpreter there — I
wanted them to meet me with Jesus in heaven —
begged them to meet me in heaven, which was open
by the one only Saviour for us all. The whole
service was good, but this last part of it was so re-
markably blessed that I almost regretted not
having gone through the whole in that way. I felt
intensely myself — Page could hardly interpret for
emotion — a venerable old Indian, Toby Chubbee,
shouted aloud, and the whole face of the congrega-
tion looked as if a new life had animated them.
Indeed, I thought it strange that during the whole
service, which lasted the usual time, the hundreds
present who could not understand me, remained
not only fixed to their seats, but seeming to gire
close attention to all I said. May God be pleased
to raise fruit from it ! After the whole service was
<^OB€luded, and the ordination over, I went to tbe
432 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
rear of the largest tent, where Mrs. Folsonij my in
teresting hostess, had had a table spread, some
thirty feet long, with abundance of provisions of
her usual good quality — turkey, bacon, corned
pork, roast pork, etc., etc., all right ChrisUanly cold;
and having eaten heartily, came home that I might
rest — needing rest.**
His next Conference was held at Washington,
Ark., from November 17th to 23d. . There were
forty-three travelling preachers stationed, and four
admitted on trial. During the session he was
quartered with General R , where he was most
hospitably entertained in a family of wealth and
elegance. "Let me introduce you," he says, "to
our table. We take the supper last evening as a
specimen.
"Gen. R. : * Bishop, try some of this lobster.'
" 'Thank you. General, if you will not take it to
be an encouragement of any extravagance. But
really, after clams from New Orleans, last evening,
have we now lobster from Boston, to our supper?*
" Gen. R., with affected gravity : *Ah, sir, if you
only knew how dreadful those curtain-lectures are,
you would understand it.*
" 'Mrs. R., I protest the General reflects on my
understanding by that remark. I am too old a
husband, and have been too often from home, not
to know better what induces such purchases.'
"Mrs. R., smiling with a blush: 'He need not
apologize for bringing me a lobster, when luxuri-
ating in all the good things they have at New
KIND FRIENDS. 4B8
Orleans. It would be hard if he did not even
think of me.'
" Bishop : ' Yes, General, Til take the lobster to
encourage that quality in you.'
'^ The General, helping me : ' That is the way
you do it in Carolina, where wives are governed
by their husbands ; but here in Arkansas, we just
do as our wives tell us.*
" 'And Mrs. R. told you to buy the lobster, did
she V
" ' No, not just that ; but I have to try and please
her, that's all;' and a hearty laugh ended the case
of the lobster."
The Bishop describes his hostess as one of the
loveliest women he had ever been in company with.
He was a fine judge of female character; and
possessed the genius, the sense of the beautiful,
and the goodness of heart, which are necessary to
a proper appreciation of that somewhat mysterious
thing — woman-nature. "I really felt sorry," he
says, •' to bid this kind family farewell. Not that
I care a fig to part with their luxurious table, but
themselves. Kind old Mrs. E., Mrs. R.'s mother,
would have me to take a pair of large woollen socks,
to draw over my shoes and ankles; while R.,
generous fellow, would examine every thing about
my horse-equipage, and condemned my saddle as
not being of the right Spanish shape, and of con-
sequence not so easy as it ought to be ; and whether
I would or no, he put his saddle on my horse, in
place of mine, as the only one fit to ride. I shall
28
484 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
take it home with me if I can get it there. The
tree of the saddle alone cost and is worth ten dollars."
During the session, Bishop Capers preached on
Sunday morning, on Matt, xviii. 1-4 ; and found
still, as he says, " a considerably new sermon in an
old text. Enlarged especially on the unreserved
devotion to Christ, which the Christian ministry
demands; the sinfulness of all selfishness; the
wickedness and danger of all pride; and the indis-
pensable necessity of holiness, that the minister of
Christ, whatever his labors or character may be,
might be accepted, successful, and saved. After-
wards ordained fourteen Deacons and five Elders..
AVTiat a well of living water the Holy Scriptures
are ! The single text above contains truth enough,
implied or expressed, to form a safe directory and
guide on the way to heaven. And what a power
for good comes forth with the word of Christ, to
make the veriest babe an example for apostles;
while the insufficiency and nothingness of all
human reliance, the emptiness and vanity of the
most plausible of human pretensions, are made
manifest, in that the disciples, in the midst of the
benefits of Christ's ministry, fall to disputing about
a question of personal distinction, lag behind their
Master, and even come into his presence and
approach his person with their minds estranged,
and their spirits disordered to such a degree, that
a child might serve for their instructor.'*
Leaving his kind friends at Washington, the
Bishap put himself into his new Spanish saddle,
GOING HOME. 485
and turned his face southward, towards San Au-
gustin, the seat of the East Texas Conference,
which he reached after a pleasant journey. The
session was a protracted and laborious one, and
closed on the 17th December. He stationed twenty-
four preachers, and one was admitted into the
travelling ministry. He had a slight attack of
fever here, taken from exposure; but it quickly
yielded to treatment prescribed by himself— boneset-
tea and castor-oil. He was not sufficiently reco-
vered to preach on Sunday; but performed the
ordination service at his own room on Monday
afternoon. The kind attentions of his hostess, Mrs.
Governor Henderson, were unremitting.
The Texas Conference, held at Cedar Creek
Church, December 29th to January 3d, closed his
second tour of Episcopal visitations. Six preachers
were admitted into the travelling connection, and
thirty stationed. On the 5th January he reached
Houston, preached at eleven o'clock, and the next
day took steamer for Galveston. He says the next
day : " My work is done, and I go home, the Globe,
a noble boat, with a favorite old captain, being
ready to depart for New Orleans, to-morrow morn-
ing. I have travelled since the 10th September
upwards of three thousand miles — about eleven
hundred on horseback; and although I have
been on the road almost every day that I was not
in Conference, have had no more than three wet
days to ride in. While on horseback, had to ford
eight rivers, and creeks I know not how many,
436 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
without experiencing the least detention or incon«
venience, or even having to pass through water
more than knee-deep. Goodness and mercy have
attended me in all the way I have come ; and in
that goodness and mercy will I trust, with thanks-
giving, to the end."
The Globe had a smooth run across the Gulf;
and the sentiment of the beautiful was stirred in
the good Bishop's soul, by the scene presented
just before reaching the mouth of the Mississippi.
He thus describes it: "The sunset this evening
was the most gorgeous I ever gazed at. The sea
was as smooth as a lake, and the dappled clouds,
kindled gloriously over it, flung down upon its
silvery bosom such a brightness as could not be
painted. And how true to the heavenly light were
the kindled waters ! just as it should be where
the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in
the face of Jesus Christ has been revealed to the
believer. I have now crossed the Mexican Gulf,
that most dreaded part of my whole tour; and
here, as along all my journey, goodness and mercy
have most remarkably attended me. Great im-
provement in the appearance of the plantations as
we go up the river : the buildings better ; cultiva-
tion better ; plantations larger ; and last, not least,
there seems to be a better chance to keep from
drowning. I see some plantations, every foot of
which is evidently lower than the surface of the
water of this mighty, booming river, which is kept
off by an embankment, of about the height of our
QOING HOME. 487
rice-field river-banks. The orange trees, with their
tempting fruit, are the only very pretty things I see.
"Arrived at New Orleans January 13th, before
one o'clock P. M. Learned that the boat for
Mobile would start at three o'clock. Took a cab
for the post-office, and thence to the railroad lead-
ing to the Mobile boat. Got to the railroad in
good time, but none too soon ; and by the railroad
to the steamboat, which in a quarter of an hour
after set off. A most luxurious dinner of several
«
courses, admirably served, came on at four o'clock.
Such fare makes it really cheap to be carried to
Mobile for five dollars.
" January 14. Notwithstanding her silly name,
I am now on board of the Pride of the West. We
got to Mobile at eight o'clock this morning, hav-
ing been detained among the shallows in the fog
some two hours during the night. I forgive the
California her gaudy fixtures, and allow her aho
to be a noble boat. It really looks strange to me,
after crossing so many rivers which were almost
dry — the Brazos bridged by its ferry-boat, the
Trinity not too deep to be forded, the Nueces knee-
deep, and even Red river almost fordable — to see
the Mississippi and Alabama rivers so full. Had
the floods been in * the West' I have been travelling
through, what had become of me and my pony ?
Mentioning my pony calls to mind that I have
never spoken of him according to his deserts, I
rode him a thousand miles, over mountains not a
few, without his once stumbling with me, though
438 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
he could not have been much used before I got
him, being under five years old ; and he was equal
to the best of horses I travelled with, and, except
one, decidedly superior as a traveller, both for the
easiness of his action, and his progress on the road.
I sold him at a word, for what he cost me, and
would not have taken $30 more for him, if he had
been in South Carolina. A very pleasant horse
was Mac ; and very lucky was I in procuring him :
white, nearly every hair of him, just fifteen hands
high, thin-shouldered, deep-chested, light-footed;
bought and sold for sixty dollars.'*
A dear lover of a good horse, and a fine judge of
his points, is our worthy Bishop. Let the tyro in
horse-flesh, when about to buy, remember the ortho-
dox canons just laid down : thin-shouldered, deep-
chested, and light-footed.
Bishop Capers reached Montgomery on the
evening of the 16th, voting the Pride of the West
a good boat, and exceedingly well managed, worthy,
to be classed with the Globe and the California.
On the 19th he reached home: how dear to a man
of his exquisite family-feeling such a home as
greeted him would naturally appear, after an
absence so long and labors so intense, may be
conceived more readily than described.
OB. BASCOH. 439
CHAPTER XVI.
l>r. Bascom visits South Carolina — His mind and manners — Meeting
of the Bishops and Commissioners of the Church suit called by
Bishop Soule — Bishop Capers's third and fourth tours of yisita*
tions.
Early in 1848, Francis W., eldest son of Bishop
Capers, who had been for some years a professor
and officer of the State Military Academy, was
elected Professor of Ancient Languages and Litera-
ture in Transylvania University, of which institu-
tion Dr. Bascom was then President. In April,
Dr. Bascom, who had made a tour through Ala-
bama and Georgia, spent a week in Charleston,
and attended the camp-meeting held in the vicinity
of the city. This was the only visit ever made to
South Carolina by that distinguished man. It is
almost needless to add that his preaching made a
profound sensation. An eminent legal gentleman
of Charleston, after hearing this master of sacred
eloquence, said that he had listened to Chalmers
and Robert Hall, but was constrained to give the
palm to Bascom. There was a singular interpene-
tration of the logical and poetic faculties in Dr.
Bascom's mind. In preaching, his imagination
440 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
commonly won the lead of his logic — the poet got
the mastery of the dialectician. His fervid genius
delighted to vivify and incarnate its thoughts with
the force and in the form of scenic representation.
And in this he supposed he was carrying with him
the sympathies of the general mind of the country,
even though it might be at the expense of disap-
pointing the fastidiousness of cultivated taste.
The main fault, as we suppose, which a severe
critical judgment would find in this inter-play of
leading mental powers, is that it is liable to inter-
fere with the unity of the sermon, and to detract
somewhat from the definite final efifect it is meant
to have. Even a poet may have too much imagina-
tion, as was the case with Spenser. The "Fairy
Queen** is a series of glittering tableaux, each the
most beautiful of all scene-painting in our language
and literature; but by their very brilliancy and
rapid succession complicating and interfering with
the thread of the story ; and leaving at last some-
thing of a confused impression of the whole upon
the reader*s mind. While in South Carolina, Dr.
Bascom received the attentions of leading gentle^
men both in Charleston and Columbia — men who,
in point of manners, were peers of princes. In
company with them he maintained a noble and
graceful ease, as though he had been dandled on
the knee of affluence, and had mixed with titled
society from his boyhood. This is mentioned
merely to correct an impression of a different kind
sought to be made since his death.
EN ROUTE FOR LOUISVILLE. 441
The General Conference of the Northern Me-
thodist Episcopal Church was held in May, at
Pittsburg. By this body, from the councils of
which Drs. Olin, Bangs, Levings, and others of the
foremost men of the Church had been excluded,
the Plan of Separation adopted in 1844, by which
the organization of the Southern Conferences had
been authorized, was repudiated. The frivolous
pretences on which this act was done, it is aside
from our purpose to notice here. It became neces-
sary, however, that immediate measures should be
taken to secure the portion of the Book Concern
which was the property of the Southern Church.
A meeting of the Bishops and Commissioners was
accordingly called by Bishop Soule, in June. They
met at Louisville, Kentuckj-, September 6th.
Before leaving Charleston, Bishop Capers had
the satisfaction of seeing his charming daughter,
Emma Haslope, united in marriage to the Rev.
Samuel B. Jones — a marriage, alas ! crowned with
but a few brief years of connubial felicity, Mrs.
Jones having survived her father but a month or
two. By him she was fondly loved, and was
eminently worthy of a father's aflection.
On the 16th of August the Bishop set off from
Charleston, en route for Louisville. He preached
at Wilmington the next night, spent Sunday in
Petersburg with the family of his attached friend,
D'Arcy Paul, Esq., and filled the pulpit in Wash
ington Street Church. The following Sunday he
passed at Pittsburg. Hoping to find his son, Pro-^
19*
442 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
feasor Capers, who had just been married to a sister
of Dr. Bascom, at Lexington, he left the river at
Maysville. He miist, of course, be invited to
preach at night. They gave him a good congrega-
tion, at least, on short notice. He was disap-
pointed next morning, by the information that
he would not be able to see his new daughter at
Lexington, since "the birds were flown,** Professor
and Mrs. Capers having left on the day of their
marriage for a bridal tour " over the hills and far
away." Returning to the Ohio river, the Bishop
reached Louisville in time for the meeting called
by Bishop Soule, but suffering considerably from
asthma. All the Bishops attended this meeting,
and were in consultation with the Commissioners
of the Church. The result of their deliberations
was a determination to institute the necessary suits
at law, as soon as practicable, for the Recovery of
the funds and property falling due to the Southern
Church, under the contract of the Plan of Separa-
tion. It was arranged here, that Bishop Capers,
after attending the Kentucky and Louisville Con-
ferences, should, in accommodation to Bishop
Paine, take the Eastern District, beginning at the
Virginia Conference. Accordingly, he entered
upon his third tour of visitations, attending the
Kentucky Conference, at Flemingsburg. Here he
had the pleasure to see his " new daughter" — the
bridal tour having been shortened to allow him that
satisfaction. From Flemingsburg he went to Har-
dinsburg, Kentucky, and held the Louisville Con-
NORTH Carolina conference. 44d
fereiice. The session was harmonious and happy,
and the public worship made a blessing to many.
Apprehending delay from low water in the Ohio,
he went by the way of Nashville and Charleston to
Elizabeth City, the seat of the Virginia Confer-
ence. This route allowed him the unexpected
pleasure of four days with his family. On the 25th
October, he set out for Elizabeth City, where the
Virginia Conference closed a laborious but peace-
ful session of nine days, on the 9th November. A
question having arisen in regard to the probable
effect upon the case at law, if the society at Fred-
ericksburg should be recognized as adhering to
the Southern organization, and supplied with a
preacher from the Virginia Conference, supposing
their case not to be specifically provided for in the
Plan of Separation, Bishop Capers considered it
proper to submit the question to the Hon. Reverdy
Johnson, one of the counsel of the Church, South.
He accordingly went to Baltimore at the conclusion
of the Conference, and had a satisfactory interview
with Mr. Johnson. This incident illustrates the
prudence and caution of the Bishop, and his fear-
less self-sacrifice. The weather was particularly
bad, and his exposure to wet, frost, and snow, on
the way to Baltimore, and thence to Danville,
brought on an aggravation of the affection of the
chest under which he was suffering. He, however,
held the North Carolina Conference, and was kindly
taken from Danville to Goldsboro, by the Rev. Di
B Nicholson, very comfortably in his carriage.
444 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPBRS.
The session of the South Carolina Conference
was held at Spartanburg, and, for the first time, in
one of the mountain districts of the State. The
weather was fine, and a large number of persons
attended from the surrounding country. The im-
pression made by the Conference was fine, and a
short and very pleasant session was closed with a
peculiarly appropriate tmd impressive address from
Bishop Capers.
At the Georgia Conference, he found himself so
unwell as not to be able to occupy the President's
chair on Friday and Saturday. A genial change
in the weather, however, allowed him to attend on
Sunday morning to the ordination services, after
Dr. Lovick Pierce had preached a sermon very ap-
propriate to the occasion. This session was held
in Augusta ; and there were twenty-three preachers
admitted into the travelling connection.
The Florida Conference, which ended Bishop
Capers's present route of visitations, was held at
Albany, and closed on the 5th February. He was
able to preside in tolerably good health. Previously
to his setting out for Florida, his daughter, Sarah
Ann, was married to Mr. W. M. Sage, a young
merchant of Charleston.
In March, he dedicated a Methodist church
edifice in the town of Beaufort, South Carolina.
This visit throughout was one of great satisfaction.
His health was improving with the opening of
spring. The air was fragrant with the perfume of
the jasmine ; and being accompanied in the same
DEDICATION AT BEAUFORT. 445
carriage by two attached friends, each a good lis-
tener, the Bishop developed all his charming
powers of conversation. The dedication sermon
which he preached was highly appropriate to the
time and circumstances. His text was the follow-
ing: "For we stretch not ourselves beyond our
measure, as though we reached not unto you ; for
we are come as far as to you also, in preaching the
gospel of Christ." The town being made up prin-
cipally of planters' residences, with an intelligent
though not large population, divided in their reli-
gious preferences between the Episcopalian and
Baptist denominations, there had been but little
opening for the erection of a Methodist church,
although the Methodist missionaries had been en-
gaged for several years in preaching to the blacks
on the neighboring islands. A successful effort,
however, had been made to build a church, by the
Rev. D. D. Cox, then in charge of the missionary
work. In preaching on the text just mentioned,
Bishop Capers maintained that Methodism did not
seek to interfere with established religious organ-
izations ; was abhorrent of the sectarian spirit, in
the offensive sense of that tenn ; never aimed at
proselytism. Nevertheless, it had a mission even
in a small community where other churches were
planted, inasmuch as there were always persons and
families in such a community who might be
reached and benefited bj' its peculiar instrument-
alities, who had not, in point of fact, been brought
into other communions. And what though this
446 LIFE OF WILIilAM. CAPERS.
class might not embrace many of the rich, refined,
or highly-educated ? It was the glory of Christ's
gospel that it held a different point of view from
that which worldly wisdom might have suggested,
for its operations. It began at the bottom and
worked upwards: the other would fain begin at
the top and work downwards. The measure of
Methodism stretched to all unoccupie'd ground;
and its results, in fact, had never been confined
within the mere limits of its own peculiar organ-
ization. It went for the revival and spread of
spiritual religion everywhere; and many of its
fruits were seen adorning the enclosures of other
communions — lost, indeed, to Methodism, but that
was no great matter, if they were gained to heaven
in the end. These salient points were enlarged
upon with a richness of illustration and a strength
of appeal, in keeping with his high reputation as
a preacher, and made the occasion one of great
interest.
The state of the Methodist Episcopal Church
South, as reported in the general minutes, published
early in 1849, presented a gratifying picture of
prosperity and advancement. There were in the
connectional union nineteen Annual Conferences,
four Bishops, one thousand four hundred and
seventy-six travelling preachers, three thousand
and twenty-six local preachers, and in the member-
ship of the Church four hundred and ninety-one
thousand seven hundred and eighty-six whites, iand
oii.e hundred and thirty-four thousand one hundred
EPISCOPAL VISITATIONS. 447
and fifty-three colored, and three thousand three
hundred and seventy-five Indians — exhibiting an
increase upon the returns of the previous year of
twenty-six thousand two hundred and thirty-three.
The Southern organization was surely able to take
care of itself, by the blessing of God ; and that tie
Divine blessing rested upon it was shown by its
vigorous growth. Its preachers were doing evangel-
ical work — not mixing themselves up with political
affairs, not drawn aside from their proper vocation
by schemes of pseudo philanthropy. Their zeal was
not the fire of fanaticism, but a solemn, tender con-
cern for the salvation of men's souls ; their exclu-
sive business was "to preach the unsearchable
riches of Christ."
Bishop Capers left home on his fourth round of
Episcopal visitations late in August. He reached
Nashville on Saturday evening, September 1st, and
preached at McKendree Church next morning.
The da}'^ after, he paid a visit to Bishop Soule. He
reached Louisville on the 6th, nothing injured by
travelling, but rather " braced up/' He attended
in succession the Kentucky, Louisville, Tennessee,
Memphis, Mississippi, and Alabama Conferences.
The sessions were pleasant in the main ; but he
felt sorely the want of more preachers to supply the
opening and extending fields of labor. Notwith-
standing this deficiency, there was reported in five
Conferences an increase of upwards of five th«d-
isand members. The following letter, written da i?-
448 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPEK8.
ing thi8 toor, shows his grateful sense of a saper^ "
inteudiag Providence:
"After the manner of the most kind Providence,
which has attended me along all the way of my
journeying, from the beginning till now, I have
threaded the dangerous navigation of the Red
river, up and down, from New Orleans to Shreve-
port, and back again, without hurt or harm, and
am now, after a smooth passage across the Lakes
Ponchartrain and Bourne, at the mouth of the
river below Mobile. Every boat, I was told, that
had ascended the Eed river this season, not ex-
cepting the one after me, lost some passengers
by cholera ; but my boat, and one of the worst and
dirtiest I ever was on, though crowded beyond all
probable excess, so that the clerk told rae we had,
little and big, black and white, five hundred pas-
sengers on board, had not one case. One old man
died on board of asthma. I have no asthma.
What is to come may well be confided to ' the will
Divine;' but in all my travelling for more than
forty years, by stagecoach, by railroad, by ship, and
by steamboat, no accident has ever happened to
hurt me, or any one else travelling with me, to this
day. Verily, there is a Providence which watches
THE DESCENDIIT& BUN. 449
thifl guiding eye aud eustainiug band had been
over him while engaged directly aud with full
strength in the blessed work of his Divine Master.
The past was safe ! The witness was with God,
aud the record on high. "Would he have exchanged
the sublime satisfaction of such a train of re-
flection for all the honors and dignities which
worldly success, the loftiest, the widest, could have
entailed ?
The foregoing letter was written a day or two
before his sixtieth birthday. He bad already
touched the Bummit of bis strength and vigor.
The remaining five years of bis life waa a period
of decadence; gracious and graceful to the last,
but no longer the William Capers of former days !
He cannot now travel at night without suffering.
A long day's ride entails stiffness and soreness.
The elasticity which carried him erect and buoyant
over so many fields and through such great labors,
loses its springs under the heavy hand of time.
The eloquence which in former years so often
"FleiT an eagle Sight, forth and right oa,"
has less daring in its pinion, less precision in its
swoon and aim nerhans. His nreaching, however,
which veneration
be lips of age and
re shone from the
i and virtues of
ade illustriona by
460 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
80 many years of public service, produced but the
deeper impression the nearer he drew to that
solemn and glorious land,
" Where life is all retouched agal«."
BPISCOPAL VISITATIONS. 451
CHAPTER XVII.
General Conference at St. Louis — Fifth tour of yisitations — Writes
his Autobiography — Illness at Augusta — Sixth tour — Correspond-
ence.
Bishop Capbrs attended the second General Con-
ference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Sonth,
which was held at St. Louis, Missouri. The session
was a brief one, cholera having made its appear-
ance in the city, and threatening to become rapidly
epidemic. Indeed, one of the members of the
Georgia delegation, the Rev. Isaac Boring, fell a vic-
tim to the disease. The necessary business was gone
through, however, and an additional Bishop elected
and consecrated. This was Dr. Bascom, for whom
Bishop Capers entertained the warmest affection,
and whose distinguished career closed four months
afterwards, amidst profound and universal regrets.
The plan of Episcopal visitations assigned to
Bishop Capers the Holston, Tennessee, Memphis,
Mississippi, and Alabama Conferences for the first
year of the new quadrennial term. He attended
all these Conferences, and in the discharge of the
duties of his ofiice was called on to station five
452 LIFE OF WILLIAM 0APBR8.
hundred and fifty preachers. The year had been
one of prosperity ; and particularly in the Holston,
Memphis, and Tennessee Conferences very gracious
revivals had taken place. The visits of the Bishop
were highly appreciated.
On his return he spent some six weeks in the
spring of 1861 with his daughter, Mrs. Ellison, at
the Wesleyan Female College, Macon, Georgia,
where he wrote the recollections of his early years
found in the former part of this volume. This auto-
biographical sketch he describes to his daughter,
Mrs. Jones, while composing it, as being " a plain
narrative, in which I am chiefly concerned to set
down facts, which perhaps may be interesting, at
least to my children.'* The importance of under-
taking this work had been earnestly pressed upon
his attention by several of his intimate friends,
who believed that his reminiscences of that period
of Methodistic history in the South Carolina Con-
ference covered by his early labors, would be a
contribution to the literature of the Church of in-
estimable worth. He contemplated a continuation
of the narrative of his life, but never added a line
to what he had written at Macon.
By the kindness of the Rev. W. G. E. Cunnyng-
ham, one of the missionaries of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South, to China, we are enabled
to favor our readers with the following letters from
Bishop Capers, the first of which was written at
Macon. Mr. Cunnyngham says: "Below I send a
copy of two letters written by Bishop Capers, on0
tiSd)1)BR ¥0 HbV. MR. O.UKKYKGHAM. 458
addressed to Mrs. Cunnyngham, and the other to
myself. It was my privilege to enjoy the friend-
ship of that truly great and good man for several
years before his death. The letter to me was
written before my appointment to China, and in
answer to one from me asking for advice on a
subject which his letter sufficiently explains. The
advice he gives may do other young preachers
good. I have had cause to thank God for it.
The letter to Mrs. C. exhibits some of the finest
traits of his beautiful character. I send a copy,
because I do not wish to give up the original
letters ; they are a treasure I would not readily part
with.
<* Shanghai, China, May 18th, 1867."
"Macon, Ga., Feb. 18, 1851.
" My dear Brother : — ^Yours of the 3d inst. has
been forwarded to me at this place from Charles-
ton. As to the advice you ask, you may trust me
to any length you please, that I will be sincere in
giving it, as if it were to my own son ; but that you
may equally confide in the wisdom of the advice
given, is another question. As a general rule,
admitting of but few exceptions, one should never
lift a foot to move anywhere without light ; light
enough, too, not only to see any disadvantages of
the ground occupied at the time, but also of the
ground to be occupied by a removal. Every one
can see enough to be dissatisfied with something,
perhaps much, in his position and circumstances;
454 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
and it is a misfortune to many, that they incline
more to ponder the evil than to consider the good
of their present position; and to anticipate the
good more than foresee the evil of a proposed
change. I would choose to see, before I made any
change of much consequence, both that it should
be advisable, and that it should be advisable now.
And if I could not see this, I would deem it pru-
dent to keep my mind easy as I might, without
any change, and wait until a time should come for
me to see more clearly. Always see your way
before taking it, is no bad rule of action. Better
wait for light than step forth in the dark, or even
if it be not quite dark. When I was young in the
ministry, I was much worried with a restless desire
for change, thinking I might do more good, for
some reason or other, in almost any other place
than where I was ; till, finding it to be a temptation,
I cast it from me, and determined to take my allot-
ment for the best, be it where it might. I cannot
but suspect that in part, at least, you too are some-
what tempted. The great matter, my dear brother,
is not where or for what persons we labor ; but how
much of the spirit of faith, and zeal, and humble
love, we carry to our work. I do not, at present,
like the idea of your changing your Conference.
Nor can I say that I deem your reasons sufficient.
"You have not told me w^hether you are yet
married or not, nor have I heard from any other
quarter. What you say in your letter might apply
either if married or expecting to marry. Suppose
LETTER TO MRS. CUNKYKGHAM. 455
then you are married. Your wife will be even
more concerned by your removal to another Con-
ference than you yourself. A parsonage, or board-
ing-house, will never be more bearable for being
beyond the reach of her kin-folks and friends ; but
the reverse. Never fear that we will locate you, or
that your friends will locate you, even should they
wish you to locate, as long as you maintain the
spirit of your calling. It is not friends and kindred,
so much as oneself, that we need fear under a
temptation. As to my dear , whether she
is, or is to be, your wife, she is not the stuff to
embarrass you in your duty ; and see to it, on your
part, that you suffer no restlessness of temptation
to add a feather to the sufficient burdens of a
travelling preacher's wife ; but, on the contrary, let
it be assiduously and constantly your care to have
her as little troubled as possible, and as quiet and
happy in her feelings as possible.
" My most affectionate and true-hearted love to
all the family. May God bless them.
"Your very sincere friend,
"W. Capers."
TO MRS. CUNNYNGHAM.
''AsHEviLLE, N. C, Sept. 27, 1852.
" My dear Bettib : — It was kind of you to write
me from New York : to think of me at that especial
point of time when the images of loved ones at
home, left for so long a time, and so far away,
must have held a peculiar title to your recoUectiona.
456 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPfiRB.
Your letter was most grateful to me ; and right
heartily aud affectioiiately do I thank you for it.
May God bless yon abundantly, my dear good
daughter, and make you a blessing and a praise to
thousands, while you shall glorify Him by a life of
Him pie faith and fruitful charity.
"Before you shall have received this letter, the
pictures of imagination will have been superseded
by the verities of missionary life in China ; and
you will have begun to do with the duties and
trials of your great undertaking: duties and trials
challenging patience and forbearance, without the
aid of the stimulus of a great adventure and admir-
ing friends. You are in China — a missionary in
China. Yes, there you are, for the testimony of
Jesus, while as yet a seemingly impracticable
language makes you deaf and dumb, and you feel
the pain of that most irksome of all the forme of
solitude, the being alone in the midst of masses of
people. You have neither companionship nor
acquaintance with them, though you have left
all on their account. City, country, forms of
society, manners, customs, modes of life, nothing
is like home, but every thing repulsively in contrast
with it. And still you need not be unhappy.
Jeeus dwells in China; and you know the secret
of his presence, and ii
to his love and goo(
whatever may be lai
home-enjoyments. 1
fold.' Yoa will neit
IKTTER TO MRS. C tJ N K Y N G B A M . 45V
abseDce of so much that gave zest to life in America,
must oecessarily make life insipid in China. Think
of home as if you were at home. Think nothing
of that wide, wide eea; for no matter for its count-
less millions of waves — it is only as a partition of
joiir Father's house, separating one chamber from
another; or like that meadow between home and
your schoolroom at Abingdon. And think not of
the days to come, while the present finds you as
you ought to be. What is the diflference between
all the length of days you may pass in China, and
the few hours of a day spent at school ? Let them
alone, and they will all soon be the same, and
shall have passed away like a dream; and you
shall wonder at the shortness of the time. Enjoy
life by making most of what is at hand. Make an
idol of nothing — not even of your husband ; but,
nevertheless, reckon your treasures to be treasures.
I have known a time, when, to have had a wife hack
from the grave, I would have rejoiced to have gone
for life to the remotest corner of the earth, with
no other associate, friend, or neighbor, but herself
alone. That, I have long since known, was idola-
trj', extreme selfishness, and utter folly ; but,
thank God, you have Jesus with you, to bless and
sanctify what is yours. Be happy, then ; be always
458 LIFS OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
go abroad, no less than when closeted with book
and teacher. But I stop a lecture which I did not
intend, and which, I begin to feel, betrays my own
weakness more than is becoming, and much more
than may be profitable. It reads too much as if I
considered you as weak — as if you had not been
baptized with the Spirit of your Master, and were
in danger of fainting under the cross.
"A thousand blessings be on your head, my dear
Bettie, and your husband with you. May God
keep you as He only can, from all evil, and make
you a blessing to many. Much love to brother
Cunnyngham, and to the brethren Taylor and
Jenkins and their families.
"Your very sincere friend and brother,
«W. Capers."
After having spent some three months in Macon,
Bishop Capers set out to return to South Carolina.
On his way to Augusta he was taken suddenly
sick, but was able to reach the residence of his
early and attached friend, John H. Mann, Esq., of
Augusta. This was the first time he was ever
seriously ill, away from home. But the house of
his friend and brother, Mann, was almost the same
as home to him. His family were sent for; the
best medical aid in the city was at his service ; the
kindest and most unwearied attentions from the
truest and most loving of friends, Mr. and Mrs.
Mann, were given him; and by the blessing of
RETtJKK TO CHABLESTON. 45d
God and good nursing, he was carried through an
attack which, under other circumstances, might
have proved fatal.
On the 27th of May he wrote as follows to his
daughter, Mrs. Stone : " I am still confined to my
room and physic, after a month and a day of doctor-
ing. My debility continues to a great degree.
Not much stronger to-day than two or three weeks
ago, but relieved of pain. Dr. Means, of Oxford,
called on me, on his way East, and toFd me it must
be a long time before I could recover. During all
the earlier and severer part of my illness, I was
more and much more than sustained by the exceed-
ing grace and mercy of God, which was made
manifest to me and for me, in Christ. I had never
any fear, any doubt, and of course no sadness, nor
even sorrow, though in much pain and great feeble-
ness. I still have my mind free, and what is too
much for me I give up without difficulty. May
the blessed will of God be completely done in me,
according to the riches of his grace in Christ Jesus.
This is all that is now of any consequence or con-
cern. My tender love to your sisters. Tell them,
precious girls, that I have been very near home
since I saw them : near enough to know that verily
it is no fabled land, but the true, eternal kingdom
of the Son of God, our Saviour, where he has pre-
pared places for us. Tell them to live for it, and
away from the world, that they may attain unto it.*'
By the middle of June he was able to reach
Charleston, but still so feeble as to be prevented
460 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
from performing the least service whatever beyond
prayer with his family. He held himself in calm
and devout resignation to the Divine providence,
saying, "If God will, I shall work; and if he will
it rather, I shall still be of no service till I go
hence.'* His health, however, in a week or two
began to improve rapidly; and he was able to
preach in Columbia on the last Sunday in June,
and with unction and fervor. At the edge of the
grave, he had caught a vivid glimpse of eternity,
and with the full impression upon his spirit he
delivered his message to dying men. After spend-
ing several weeks at Anderson Court-house, where,
for the sake of the climate, he contemplated resid-
ing in future, he returned to Charleston so much
recruited as to undertake his tour of visita-
tions. He left Charleston early in August, hoping
to attend most of his Conferences. The following
correspondence presents an account of his move-
ments :
** St. Louis, Mo., Sept. 12.
" To Augusta, Atlanta, and as far as Marietta,
some three hundred and fifty miles, I had the com-
pany of brother and sister Shackelford, and a very
pleasant time. Reached Chattanooga Thursday
evening, and was presently afterwards in the stage-
coach for *over the mountains and far away.'
Walked up the first mountain. Walker's Ridge,
which is the steepest and very high, though not the
highest, before midnight on foot, which, after such
MISSOUBI OONFBBBNCB. 461
a fatigue as travelling from Charleston to that
point without rest, I thought something smart for
me to do. Was willing to pass for an old man, and
to be carried by the horses up the Cumberland, on
the same night. Got to Nashville, still without
rest, at two o'clock in the morning, Saturda3\ On
Sunday preached twice. Monday, at about eleven
o'clock, took boat for Paducah, on the route hither ;
and going to the boat, found Bishop and sister
Soule on board, bound for Louisville. How lucky !
For we were on the last boat that would be able to
get down the Cumberland river, and to .have missed
her would have obliged me to take another hard
day and night stage-route from Nashville to Paducah.
I am here quite soon enough, and with a fair pros-
pect of reaching Fayette, the seat of the Missouri
Conference, by boat, as earlj?^ as I wish to do. My
journey hither has done me no harm, and, for the
much that remains, we have only to exercise a
prayerful trust in God, who is the living, ever-
present God, and whose providence is faithful and
unfailing, whether it seem to us prosperous or
adverse."
"Faybttb, Mo., Sept. 27.
"At St. Louis it was my purpose to come up in a
boat to a town on the Missouri river, Boonville,
opposite to this place; but at the time the river
was deemed too low for a certain passage in reasona-
ble time, and Dr. Bond, of this Conference, (not
of Baltimore^), kindly offered me a seat in his
462 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
buggy, and brought me all the way, stopping two
days at his house at Danville, and all in due time
for the Conference. We are getting on cleverly
with the Conference, and have no hard cases of any
kind to disturb our quiet. You will not he sorry
to hear that I have been advised here, and have
concluded to give up my purpose of visiting the
Indian Mission Conference as impracticable, or,
at least, likely to put it out of my power to visit
the Arkansas Conference, which I ought by all
means to do, as it has already been two successive
sessions without a Bishop. As well as we can
make it out, I should have to ride some three
hundred and sixty or eighty miles to the Indian
Mission Conference, and thence to the Arkansas
Conference still farther, perhaps four hundred
miles. This, in the time allowed for it, I could not
do, especially over such a tract of country as, for
much of the distance, I should have. I expect to
return to St. Louis, and thence go to Memphis by
boat, and thence to Camden, Arkansas, as may be
deemed best. I continue about as well as when I
left you ; perhaps never again to be as strong as I
have been, though but little ailing. Still, I eat
pretty heartily, and sleep as well as I have been
accustomed to do from home, 0 that I could rid
myself of the feeling of exile which so constantly
oppresses me in these long absences from home !
Or if I might, would it not be substituted by some
worse feeling? Perhaps it might; but I greatly
fear that I am chargeable with performing an un-
EK BOUTE TO ARKANSAS. 468
willing service ; and what ought I not to be willing
to do or forego in the service of ray Redeemer?"
*' Mkmphis, Tknn., Oct. 22.
"I WROTE from Fayette and St. Louis, to the latter
of which places I returned as I had gone, with Dr.
Richard Bond, in his very comfortable buggy. If
there were such pleasant prairie roads along the
distance from Fayette to the seat of the Indian
Mission Conference, and thence to Camden, as
between St. Louis and Columbia, I should have
been able to prosecute that route without doubt or
difficulty. Such roads, however, extend in the
direction of the Indian Territorjt and Arkansas no
farther than Warsaw, and all the rest of the route,
except a few remaining prairies, lies over the most
rugged country, and directly across all the lines of
travel, for full four hundred miles out of six
hundred. Indeed, it appeared, from the informa-
tion of brethren on whom I could rely, that Cam-
den might be reached from Muddy Spring only on
horseback, and horseback travelling was interdicted
to me by the medical men. The Indian Mission
Conference, therefore, had to be given up as of
necessity, and the Missouri Conference passed a
resolution unanimously advising it to be necessary,
and for me to fall back on the rivers as the only
practicable way of reaching the Arkansas Confer-
ence, where my presence was still more impera-
tively called for than at the Indian Mission Con-
ference, there not having been a Bishop there for th^
464 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBB8.
last two sessions. We had a very pleasant Confer-
ence at Fayette, and, I trust, a profitable one. On
my part, there has been no cause of complaint ; on
the contrary, I have every reason to remember the
brethren with grateful aflfection. — I arrived at Mem-
phis on the 18th ; got a horse and buggy, put them
on a steamboat, and go down to Napoleon, a little
town at the mouth of the Arkansas river, where I
meet another boat, which goes to Pine Bluff,
within seventy miles of Camden, and having a
ridge country of pine land lying between them,
crossed by only one small river. One of the
brethren here, perhaps Dr. Ebbert, will accompany
me. We start to-morrow. At St. Louis I preached
twice on the 12th ; here, last Sunday, but once ;
but I make up for it by having preached in one of
the churches last evening, and being to preach in
the other this evening. I perceive no particular
difference in my health since leaving home, but
only find that I am much more easily fatigued than
formerly, and cannot endure much. Rough roads
are my particular aversion, and travelling over
them does me no good. I think I have ended my
stage-travelling by night, unless, perhaps, between
Augusta and Anderson. But what are rough roads
with you, are smooth west of the Mississippi, (or,
indeed, east of it in this quarter,) except the Mis-
siouri prairies in dry weather. The utmost I ex-
pect to attempt is to go to the East Texas Confer-
ence, at Henderson, Russ county; and if the experi-
ment between Pine Bluff and Camden should not
LETTER TO HIS ELDEST SOK. 466
argue favorably, and the information to be got at
Camden be favorable also, as to the route thence to
Henderson, I shall not go farther than the Arkan-
sas Conference."
The following letter is to his eldest son, who had
shortly before connected himself with the Church :
"Camden, Ark., Nov. 17, 1861.
" My dear Frank : — I had hoped to get a letter
from you at this place, but have not been favored
with one. Yet I have received one from your
mother, which has given me no little pleasure on
your account, by the information it communicates
of your having joined the Church. I consider this
a great matter, and rejoice for it, notwithstanding
the inadequacy of Church-membership, or any other
circumstantial or conventional thing, to answer the
necessities of the soul ; because it puts you in the
way of God's institution, and therefore a hopeful
way, for the obtaining of all your wants — pardon,
peace, and the power of grace. God be with you,
my dear son. And he will be with you, as sure as
he has been with me. * The mercy of the Lord is
from everlasting to everlasting upon them that
fear him, and his righteousness unto children's
children.' * Thou hast avouched the Lord, this day,
to be thy God, and to walk in his ways, and to keep
his statutes, and his commandments, and his
judgments, and to hearken unto his voice. And
the Lord hath avouched thee this day to be his
peculiar people, as he hath promised thee.' "
30
466 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPBBB.
" I need offer you no advices, nor give you any
cautions, for you well know that to be hearty and
diligent in duty, doing it to please God, and be-
cause he has appointed it, and expecting to be
accepted, not for the sake of the deed done, but for
Christ's sake, whose grace consecrates your obedi-
ence that it may be approved — this and this only,
being God's method of saving you through his
blessed Son, will keep you in the hour of tempta-
tion, and carry you through whatever may come,
by the supply of the Spirit of grace, safely and
surely to the end. Christian duty is never to be
neglected, and is never a thing by itself; but done
unto the Lord, its every act is a sacrament of grace,
an opportunity of meeting with Jesus, and obtain-
ing his blessing. Nor may the duty be unblest
because it may not at the time be attended with
any sensible comfort. No, nor though, instead of
the comfort of joyful emotions, it should seem
rather to be an occasion of discomfort. (See Gen.
XV. 12.) We must needs be variously exercised
that we may know our dependence on * the blood
of sprinkling' to be entire, and to admit of no
substitution, at all times. You will now more espe-
cially consider life in its true substantiality ; not
as a thing of fancy, a painted show, but the field
of moral, intelligent, responsible action, in which
every man is to perform his part among his
fellows, and before God, for all eternity. Not as if
they were feathers in the wind, where the lightest
might fly highest, but men with souls in their
TRAVELLING IN ABEANSAS. 467
bodies, conscious of immortality, and using time to
purpose. Give my love, my tenderest love to Han
and the boys. God be with you and bless you,
my dear son.
" Your affectionate father, •
"W. Capers."
The following, to Mrs. Capers, is dated New
Orleans, November 28, 1851 :
" The Conference at Camden adjourned on Tues-
day evening, the 11th inst. And what from my
bruised condition by the roughness of the road to
that place, and the close application required by
my duties at Conference, I was quite ailing, so that
I did not leave Camden till the Monday afternoon
after the adjournment, not feeling able to encoun-
ter the road, even to return home. This decided
me to sell the horse and buggy I had bought at
Memphis, for I thought I could not in any reason-
able time expect to travel so long a journey as was
before me, even over better roads, by that convey-^
ance. Reserving the use of this conveyance to take
me to the Mississippi river, I set out, as above, with
brother Hunter, who accompanied me as far as St.
Bartholomew Bayou, (creek,) in the Mississippi
swamp, where was a ferry but no boat, the flat
having been broken and being under repair. Here
I dismissed him with the horse and buggy, to re-
turn to Camden, one hundred miles, and put my-
self under the care of a most estimable Christian
gentleman by the name of McDermot, for the rest
4G8 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBRS.
of the way to the great river, it being only eighteei
mi]e.s. Passed a pleasant half day with this friend
in need, and was sent by him, well attended, to the
river. Passed Sunday there, at nothing, and Mon-
day morning got passage on the steamer St. Paul,
of St. Louis, for New Orleans, where, after a plea-
sant trip of six hundred miles, I arrived last even-
ing. The steamboat seems to be the very thing
for me, where I get exercise enough without effort,
and can lie, sit, or walk at pleasure; and during
this trip I have been recruiting fast, instead of suf-
fering as by my late journeys over bad roads.
But what has chiefly and decidedly contributed to
my better condition in the last ten days, is the use
of Jew David's plaster to the small of my back.
Without this, I doubt if I could have sustained
the ride from Camden, Arkansas, to the Mississippi
river; whereas, with it, I was enabled to do so with
much less pain than in the ride to Camden, and
nothing like the same degree of exhaustion.
"I remain here until December 1st, and shall
then pursue the ordinary public route, resting on
the way, and probably calling* on Anna for a day
or two. Hope to get home in time for Christmas."
IHB ITINliillAKT SYSTEM. 469
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Methodist itinerant system — Its suitableness to the expand-
ing population of the country — Statistics — Seyenth lour of visita-
tions.
The thoughtful reader cannot fail to be impressed
by the long separations, the perilous and protracted
journeyings, the wearing thought, in addition to con-
stant preaching, involved in stationing preachers
and providing supplies for the spiritual wants of
large portions of the country, which, in the system
of itinerant clerical operations in the Methodist
Episcopal Church, fall in full stress upon her Epis-
copal staflT. To one accustomed to the quietude
and regularity of the home-parish system, this
might seem to be, very much, a needless expendi-
ture of muscle and brain, of men and means. Such
things, it might be thought, were very well for the
beginning of the present century, and for the times
of Francis Asbury ; but surely at the present day
the mission of Methodism might be supposed to lie
mainly in the pleasant work of the spiritual edifi-
cation of the multitudes of disciples already
gathered into its fold. There is, no doubt, work
enough of this sort. But it is forgotten that while
470 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
ten years ago the Western frontier .line of this
country moved onward at the average rate of thir-
teen miles a year, bearing the ensigns of civiliza-
tion into regions covered with primeval forests,
wildernesses untrodden save by the wild beast, or
the scarce less wild Indian, now the advancing lines
of march rush forward with no fixed rule of pro-
gression, made up of columns supplied by foreign
immigration, reaching in some instances to a half
million of souls a year. Think of the ignorance,
prejudices, vices, that must belong to myriads of
these Eastern hordes ! They are, nevertheless,
henceforth to be part of the American people.
Our free institutions are to mould them, or to be
overthrown by them. The Mormon rebellion is
the first instalment of possible future trouble. The
statesman grapples with the gigantic problem of
the future status of the republic, and investigates
the conditions under which it becomes possible
that this heterogeneous mass may be brought up to
the right position for self-government. The Chris-
tian asks himself. What moral and religious re-
sources are at command, to leaven this mighty
aggregation of souls with the principles of spiritual
religion ? Shall the westward march of the nation
be signalized by churches and schoolhouses, as the
milestones of its grand progression? and the
amenities, and domestic charities, and intellectual
trophies of a Christian civilization, bloom and
blossom in the late wilderness of nature ? And if
9o, how is this consummation so devoutly ivished
THE ITINERANT SYSTEM. 471
tor by the lover of his country to be accomplished?
The answer is, it must be brought about, under
God's blessing, to a great extent bj' the peculiar
genius of the Methodist itinerancy. The preacher
of the gospel, and by eminence the Methodist
preacher, is destined to bear a conspicuous and
glorious part in this achievement. This must be
so from the fact that the Methodist itinerancy fur-
nishes the trained discipline, the almost military
economy, the rapid combinations, and central effi-
ciency of a system of camp-meetings, circuits, Pre-
siding Elders' districts, and Annual Conference
organizations — the simplicity, directness, and vigor
of evangelic aggression; and the oversight of a
general Episcopal superintendency, directing, en-
couraging, animating the whole apparatus of men
and measures, and pushing the missionary column
in the direction claimed by the strongest emer-
gency. Here are Bishops who, to the sagacity,
wisdom, and veneration obtained from years of ser-
vice, add the vigor of hardy pioneers who ride on
horseback a thousand miles on a stretch, along the
frontier of civilized life. It has been said of the
Methodism of fifty years ago, that " it had no ruf-
fles or lawn sleeves that it cared to soil, no love-
locks that it feared to disorder, no buckles it was
loth to tarnish. It lodged roughly, and it fared
scantily. It tramped up muddy ridges, it swam or
forded rivers to the waist ; it slept on leaves or raw
deer-skin, and pillowed its head on saddle-bags;
it bivouacked among wolves or Indians; now it
472 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
suffered from ticks or mosquitoes — it was attacked
by dogs, it was hooted, and it was pelted — but it
throve.** Yes, it throve; it grew like the moun-
tain oak, in dark weather, dandled by stormy
winds. Manifestly, it was the very thing for the
time and country, fifty years ago. The physical
conditions are not quite so hard now; but the
system still has exactions suflScient to test and call
out the heroic in the temper and spirit of the men
who work it. Obviously, the adaptation of such a
missionary organization to present circumstances
is no less signal than it was to the circumstances
of a half century since. The salient point of its
doctrinal system is the principle that redemption
by Christ is general, and that, consequently, Chris-
tianity is a universal remedy for the sin and woe
of the world. In the spirit of this leading prin-
ciple of its theology, all its arrangements look to a
constantly progressive movement for evangelizing
the country, the breadth of the North American
continent being the base of its operations, and new
enterprises the soul of its itinerancy. Personal in-
conveniences sink out of sight in the presence of
great principles of action, such as these. In the
grandeur of a purpose so vast and comprehensive,
so many-sided, touching the interests of society at
such vital points. Bishop Capers might well have
wished himself young again, that he might give an-
other life in supreme devotion to the one sublime work
of preaching " the unsearchable riches of Christ,"
from the centre to the outposts of civilized life.
HOLSTON CONFERENCE. 478
The General Minutes giving the statistics of the
Southern Methodist Church for 1861, exhibited a
gratifying amount of progress. There were then
in the connectional union twenty Annual Confer-
ences, exclusive of the Pacific Mission Conference.
The total of membership amounted to five hundred
and twenty-nine thousand three hundred and ninety-
four. Adding travelling preachers, one thousand
six hundred and fifty-nine, and local preachers, four
thousand and thirty-six, there was a grand total of
five hundred and thirty-five thousand and eighty-
nine, showing an increase of fourteen thousand
seven hundred and ninety-three for the last eccle-
siastical year. The average yearly increase from
the beginning of the Southern organization had
been twelve thousand. At this period it appeared
that a Methodist journal, somewhere, had admitted
that at one locality the Church seemed to be on
the wane. The intelligence called out something
like a genuine Jubilate in the newspapers of some
neighboring denominations, which amplified the
affair into a general decline. The demonstration
was a trifle premature. The Minutes showed, in-
deed, that Methodism was going down — ^but going
down the right way, spreading its roots to support
a wider spread of its branches.
In September, 1852, Bishop Capers left home to
commence his next tour of visitations with the Hol-
Bton Conference. The accession of sixteen preach-
ers to the effective list of the "Switzerland"
Conference, made the eyes of the good Bishop
474 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAP£R8.
sparkle. Holston had already a representative in
China — ^the Rev. W. G. E. Cunnynghani, a man of
most admirable qualifications for that mission ; the
Conference at the present session nominated an-
other of its preachers for a distant mission-field,
California ; and Bishop Capers had the satisfaction
to appoint him. The session was protracted ; yet
he was able, in addition to presiding regularly,
to preach several times, and to ordain, at one ser-
vice, both deacons and elders.
Before reaching the seat of the Holston Confer-
ence, he visited the Echota Indian Mission, in the
Asheville District. There is a remnant of the
Cherokee Indians, about twelve or fourteen hun-
dred in number, who were settled on lands in
Jackson, Macon, and Cherokee counties, North
Carolina, at the time when the tribe of Cherokees
were removed to the West. To this remnant the
Holston Conference has sent missionaries from the
time of the Cherokee exodus. When Bishop
Capers visited them, there were about one hundred
and fifty Church members, and three or four
Indian preachers, among them. An English school,
taught by the Rev. XJ. Keener, was in successful
operation. The Bishop spent several days in the
Mission, preached to the Indians once or twice,
with Charlie Hornbuckle as interpreter, and was
highly gratified at the improvement which these
Cherokees had made in agricalture; and especially
with their improvement in all social and religious
respects. He felt and manifested a special interest
MRS. Paul's envelopes. 476
in them, and opened a correspondence in re8])ect
to their affairs, with the Rev. William Ilicks, then
Presiding Elder of the district.
He spent Sunday, the 17th October, in Charles-
ton, en route to Fredericksburg, the seat of the
Virginia Conference, and preached twice with his
usual ability and unction, leaving the next day in
the Wilmington steamer. At Fredericksburg, ten
preachers were admitted into the travelling con-
nection, and one readmitted. The Bishop presided
to the satisfaction of all parties, and stood up well
under the toils of the session. In the Conference-
room, in the social circle, and in the pulpit, he was
ready, affable, and effective ; and left a fine influ-
ence on the Conference and community. In a
letter to Mrs. Capers he says : " We had a delight-
ful Conference at Fredericksburg; one of the very
best in all respects. At Petersburg, I stopped
Saturday and Sunday with brother and sister Paul,
the latter having attended the Conference at Fred-
ericksburg. Sister Paul has renewed her old-time
kindness, and I have in my trunk, silk and calico,
and pocket-handkerchiefs. 'I have,' said she, *a
quantity of envelopes, and I want you to take a
parcel of them.' I thanked her, and took them;
but in one of them I found twenty-five dollars,
directed to me. This, I suppose, was in lieu of a
coat she had intended to give me, and which I de-
clined, as not needing one at present.'*
Mrs. Paul must pardon us for publishing the
476 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPEES.
foregoing. If the incident shows the admirable
womanly tact with which she has long been accus-
tomed to do her acts of kindness to the preachers,
why, that is known to thousands, and she has found
it impossible to conceal entirely things of this sort,
notwithstanding all her eftbrts. The Bishop ac-
cepted gratefully the pocket-handkerchiefs and the
like; but when a coat in addition must be re-
ceived, his delicacy prompted him to decline, lest
he should seem to be availing himself, beyond
proper bounds, of the kind partiality of his lady
friend. But wouldn't he accept a parcel of en-
velopes ? — he had a large correspondence — a fresh
supply of envelopes would not burden his portfolio.
0 good, easy Bishop ! fairly caught. There is
your new coat, nicely stuffed away in one of these
smooth-faced envelopes, which told no tale at the
time. Let sister Paul have it her own way, hence-
forth. She is entitled to the queenly luxury of
doing good.
After attending the North Carolina Conference
at Louisburg, which closed November 10, and
spending a few days at home with his family.
Bishop Capers set out for the Alabama Confer-
ence. This was held at Marion ; and on his way,
he spent a Sunday at Selma, preaching morning
an i afternoon — at the latter service, to the blacks.
At this session, the notable number of twenty-eight
preachers were admitted into the travelling con-
nection. The Bishop conducted the business of
FLORIDA OONFERENCB. 477
the Conference to the entire satisfaction of all con-
cerned ; and his pulpit labors were specially edify-
ing, appropriate, and eloquent.
The session of the Georgia Conference began in
the beautiful town of Athens, l)ecember 16th, and
closed on the evening of the following Tuesday.
By general admission, it was considered one of the
pleasantest ever held in the State. A large amount
of business was gotten through with dispatch, and
the venerable Bishop carried a face of sunshine.
Upwards of one hundred and sixty preachers were
stationed.
On the 5th January, 1853, Bishop Capers took
the chair, and opened the session of the South
Carolina Conference at Sumterville. This was also
a very pleasatif Conference. Among other things
noticed at the time, there was a donation made to
the superannuated preachers' fund, by Andrew
Wallace, Esq., of Columbia, of a thousand dollars,
so conditioned as to have the interest paid annually
to Bishop Capers, and his wife, during their life-
time— a touching testimonial to the worth and
public services of the Bishop, on the part of one
who had long known him.
The Florida Conference closed the present round
of visitations. It was held in the town of Quincy,
beginning January 26th. As if he had renewed
his youth. Bishop Capers presided in the Confer-
ence, held his consultations with the Presiding
Elders, preached and performed the ordination
services on Sunday mornipg. When the afternoon
478 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
service was over, finding that his friend, Dr. Sum-
mers, who had been appointed to preach at night,
was complaining of sore-throat, he insisted upon
taking his place in the pulpit ; would listen to no
demurs on the Doctor's part, and went and preached
with power and effect ; and closed the day's sacred
work by administering the Lord's Supper.
At this Conference he made the two following
decisions :
" It has been desired that I should express my
opinion, ex cathedra, with respect to a question
which has recently given trouble in one of our
stations : whether it is allowable for a member of
the Church, a leader or steward, to preach without
license of the Quarterly Conference.
" The Discipline appropriating to the Quarterly
Conference the authority to license proper persons
to preach, and requiring that their licenses should
be renewed yearly, clearly implies that persons be-
lieving it to be their duty ought to apply to the
Quarterly Conference for license. This is the
orderly and proper way for any one to become a
Methodist preacher. But the present question
looks to something short of this ; as in case the per-
son concerned, without believing himself to be
called to preach, as a profession, should think it
his duty sometimes, in the absence of a preacher,
to hold religious services with his neighbors and
brethren, as a preacher might do. The question is,
whether this ought to be allowed ? I know nothing
against it if the person .be of fair Christian char*
EPISCOPAL DECISIONS. * 479
acter, his teaching accord to sound words, and he
competent to teach. On the other hand, I should
commend such a person for his labor of love, and
encourage hira to do all the good he could. There
can be no imposition in it, nor a bad example, as
if one who might be a vagrant should assume to be
a preacher. Nor do I judge that at the present
time, and in this Conference District, there is any
occasion to set a guard on the zeal of intelligent
and worthy members of our Church, as if there
were danger of their encroaching on the ministry.
I would ralher say, with Moses, Would that all the
Lord's people were prophets !
"W. Capers.
*'CoNFEBENCB AT QuiNOY, Jan. 29, 1858.
" The following questions have been put, in Con-
ference, for my decision from the chair :
'* 1. Has a preacher in charge a right, to withhold a certificate of
membership, simply because the applicant desires to attach himself
to a society more remote from his place of residence than the one
from which he desires to be dismissed ?
*'2. What relation does a person sustain to the Church who holds
in his possession a certificate of membership? If regarded as a
member, to what society is he accountable ?
*'8. When a member has been found guilty of gross immoralities,
can he upon manifesting penitence and promising reformation be re-
tained in full connection in the Church ?
^* To the first of these questions I answer in the
negative. And I add, that the certificate of mem-
bership is due independently of any suspicion or
aversion of the preacher, on the naked ground of
480 *LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
freedom on the part of the applicant from any
Church censure, or objections formally made in-
volving censure. A certificate that one has been
an acceptable member at any place, intends no
more than membership unimpeached, at that place.
But I have known one to ask in writing for a cer-
tificate, in such language as should of itself be
suiBcient to subject the applicant to censure. In
which case the preacher should instantly go to the
offending brother, and seek to correct the wrong,
as the Discipline requires ; or, in default of this, he
having virtually waived the offence by Bis own in-
difference, might not make it a reason for with-
holding a certificate.
" To the second question, I answer, that the per-
son holding a certificate of membership is a member
of the Church by virtue of that certificate, for such
length of time as the circumstances of the case and
the analogy of our economy may warrant. And
during this time, (that is, while the certificate avails
him for membership, and before it has been pre-
sented elsewhere,) he is amenable to the society to
which he belonged at the time it was given him.
If he is a member at all, he must be amenable
somewhere, and he can be amenable nowhere
else.
"To the third question, I answer in the negative.
It was a frequent practice with our fathers, in cases
where penitence was strongly marked, to put the
offender back on trial for six months ; placing him
in relation to the Church as if he were just begin-
KPISCOPAIi DBCISIONS. 481
ning. But it requires great strictness and extreme
caution to make this practice safe or expedient.
Penitence is an easy price for pardon, or for even a
mitigation of punishment; and probably it has
been for this reason that the practice has been dis-
continued. The immoral person had better be ex-
pelled ; and if he be truly penitent for his sin, he
will make it appear, and return to the Church by
joining on trial, as at first. There has been more
than one Judah, to whom the shame has been more
abhorrent than the guUi of a transgression.
"W. CAPBB8.
^'CoNrKBiNoa AT QviNOT, Jan. 81, 1858."
31
i62 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
CHAPTER XIX.
Eighth tour of Episcopal yisitations — Failing health — General Con-
ference at Columbus, Georgia — Last tour — Illness and death.
After a few months of relaxation at home,
Bishop Capers, accompanied by his wife, set out to
attend the Western Virginia Conference, held at
Clarksburg, August 24th. Thence he went to
Louisville, Kentucky, where a meeting of the
Bishops and Missionary Board was held, September
7th. Bishop Soule had not long before returned
from California. The account which he gave of
his visit to the Pacific Conference was deeply in-
teresting. In reference to the missionary work in
general, Bishop Soule said, " The Methodist Episco-
pal Church, South, ought to raise five hundred
thousand dollars a year for missions : they are able
to do it : it would be a great blessing to the donors.**
From Louisville Bishop Capers went to Ver-
sailles, where he held the Kentucky Conference,
commencing September 14th. Then followed the
Louisville Conference at Owensburg, Kentucky,
which closed its session October 4th; the Ten-
nessee Conference at Franklin, and the Mississippi
BPISCOPAL VISITATIONS. 488
Conference at Canton, commencing November 23d.
By this time the Bishop's health began to fail per-
ceptibly, so that he was not able to attend the session
of the Louisiana Conference, the last of his present
tour of visitations. The company of Mrs. Capers
with him was of great service and satisfaction.
At home once more, the quiet and relief from
public cares and responsibilities brought his health
up again to a tolerably comfortable state. As the
spring opened, his passion for gardening had full
scope ; and the exercise in the open air and sun-
shine, which he took in laying off and improving
the grounds of his up-country residence, was evi-
dently beneficial. He was able to attend the Gen-
eral Conference in May, though he excused him-
self, on account of the feebleness of his voice, from
occupying the President's chair during almost the
whole session. In the plan of Episcopal visitations,
there were allotted him, in view of the uncertainties
of. his health, only the Georgia and Florida Confer-
ences for the ensuing winter, and a visit to the
negro missions in South Carolina for the spring
oT 1855.
In November he passed several days at Colum-
bia, during the session of the South Carolina Con-
ference, under the Presidency of Bishop Pierce.
He was able to preach once on Sunday. A serene
cheerfulness characterized all his social intercourse
with the brethren with whom he had formerly been
so closely associated, and before whom he had ever
held up a bright example of devotion to the cause
481 LIFS OF WILLIAM 0APER8.
of the itinerant ministry. They gaw him now for
the last time among them !
On the 13th December he opened the session of
the Georgia Conference, at Atlanta. Dr. Myers
said of his Sunday's sermon, that he had rarely
ever heard him preach better: his discourse was
pervaded with that holy unction which carried it to
the heart. Although the labor of presiding at so
large a body as the Georgia Conference was of
course severe, yet the Bishop went through with an
energy which surprised his friends. Having to
leave Atlanta before day, at the close of this session,
and the weather being very cold, he suffered some-
what from bronchial irritation ; but so far recovered
as to be able to preside at the Florida Conference
at Madison, early in January, with satisfaction.
This Conference closed his public labors on earth.
On his return homeward from Florida, he visited
Charleston. His friend, the Rev. Dr. Myers, who
enjoyed the satisfaction of passing with him the
last evening of his stay, at the residence of his son.
Major F. W. Capers, describes the interview in the
following words: *'Much of the evening wate
spent in conversation respecting his last Conference.
He expressed the liveliest interest in the Church in
Florida, and earnest desire for its prosperity,
believing, as he said, that the importance of this
section, and its wants and worth, were underrated
by the preachers generally. He expressed soin«
disappointment at not having received, from^ an
officer of the Conference, some information uecessai^r
tHE FINAL ATTACK. 485
to the completion of the Conference minutes for
publication, as he wished, as alwaj^s heretofore, to
forward these minutes to the publishers as soon as
he reached home. When he was told that the in*
formation desired had reached the oflSce of the
Southern Christian Advocate that afternoon, and
could be obtained from the next week's paper, he
remarked : * But, brother, it may be too late.' And
it was ; for before he could have received it, he was
upon his death-bed. He had met some members
of his family whom he did not expect to see in
Charleston, and he remarked it with special satis-
faction, saying that he rarely saw so many of his
children together, there being six of the ten
present. They parted that night to meet next on
the resurrection morn."
Taking the railroad to Columbia on the next
morning, he spent the night of January 23d with
his old friend, the Rev. Nicholas Talley, and
reached home the next day. On the following day,
January 25th, he completed his sixty-fifth year,
and at midnight the final attack came. His two
daughters were awakened by their mother calling
to them in great alarm ; and hastening to the
Bishop's room, they found him sitting up, but
suffering great agony. " Make my blood circulate,"
he said ; and warm flannels, friction, and mustard
were applied in vain. An icy coldness had seized
the extremities. Seeing alarm depicted in the
oountenances of those around him, he said : ^^ I am
486 LIFE OP WILLIAM CAPERS.
already cold ; and now, my precious children, give
me up to Qod. O that more of you were here !
but I bless Qod that I have so lately seen you all."
Then turning to his daughter Mary, he said: "I
want you to finish my minutes to-morrow, and
send them off/' The preparation of those minutes
was the last official act of his life ; and it is touching
to observe how his habits of promptness, punctuality,
and order were manifested at a crisis so solemn.
"Duty was his law in life — his watchword at the
gates of death.** A physician was soon with him,
and succeeded during the next paroxysm of pain
in producing nausea, and temporary relief, and he
was removed to his bed. He then asked the hour ;
and when the information was given, he said:
" What, only three hours since I have been suffer-
ing such torture ! Only three hours ! What, then,
must be the voice of the bird that cries, 'Eternity!
eternity?' Three hours have taken away all but
my religion!**
During the next day he suffered much, but was
constantly engaged in prayer — especially for his
family. On Sunday he was better, and sat up
nearly all day, and at night insisted that his children
should not sit up with him. But his son-in-law,
the Rev. S. B. Jones, who had come from his cir-
cuit, and Mrs. Capers, remained with him until
after midnight. On Monday morning at daylight
Mr. Jones approached his bedside, saying, "How
do you feel this morning, father?'* His answer
THB DEATH-SOBNB. 487
was, "I feel decidedly better, and would like to
get up, that j^our mother may be able to sleep."
Mr. Jones then said: "The doctor wishes you to
take a small dose of castor oil.** "Well,** said he,
"give it to me in a table-spoon, for I have no
taste." Being assisted to raise himself, he took
the spoon, drank the oil, then took a tumbler of
water and rinsed his mouth over a basin. Mrs.
Capers turned from the bed to put aside the tum-
bler and basin, and in a moment he breathed his
last. His countenance expressed the utmost com-
posure; no single sigh or convulsive movement
marked the approach of death. Gently as dies the
latest whisper of summer winds, his life passed
away. Thus quickly had disease of the heart done
its fatal office. Mrs. Capers could not believe that
this was death. She thought it must be only a
fainting fit, and that she should again see the light
of those dear eyes, and once more hear the voice
of her beloved husband. She applied all the restora-
tives within reach; and continued for nearly an
hour the hopeless endeavor to recover him to con-
sciousness. But the pleadings of affection fell on
"the cold, dull ear of death;" the immortal spirit
had joined the innumerable company before the
throne.
As soon as the intelligence of the death of Dr.
Capers was received at Columbia, a meeting of the
ministers and members of the Methodist Episcopal
Church was held, and resolutions appropriate to the
488 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPERS.
Boleoiu event were passed, together with an earnest
request to the family of the deceased Bishop, that
his remains should be removed to that city for in-
terment ; to which the consent of the family was
given. In Charleston, also, meetings were held in
the several Methodist churches, and resolutions of
affectionate respect for the memory of the deceased,
and of condolence with his family, were adopted, ac-
companied with a request similar to that of the
Methodist community in Columbia, it being their
wish that the remains of the Bishop should lie
beneath the altar of Bethel Church.
On the 2d of February, the corpse, accompanied
with a funeral procession, was taken to the railroad
depot at Anderson ; at Cokesbury the funeral train
was joined by a committee appointed to represent
the Church there on the solemn occasion ; and at
Columbia, on the arrival of the cars at half-past
four o*clock P. M., a committee of ministers and
laymen received the body, and conveyed it to the
residence of the Rev. Nicholas Talley. On the
next day, at ten o'clock A, M., it was taken to the
Washington Street Church, the Rev. Messrs. Shand
and Wigfall, of the Protestant Episcopal Church,
the Rev. Drs. Leland and Howe and Frazer, of the
Presbyterian Church, the Rev. Messrs. Boyce and
Curtis, of the Baptist Church, and the Rev. Messrs.
Crook, Gamewell, and Townsend, of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, acting as pall-bearers. The
service at the church was conducted by the Riev,
MOKUMKNTAL INSCRIPTIONS. 489
Whiteford Smith, D. D., who preached a sermon
highly appropriate to the occasion, from Acts xiii.
36 : " For David, after he had served his own gene-
ration by the will of God, fell on sleep." After the
last hymn, and a final look at the calm, beautiful
face of the dead by weeping friends, the body
was removed to the grave in the rear of the church,
where the burial service was read by the Rev. Mr.
Talley, and the coffin was lowered to its place,
dust to dust, and ashes to ashes, until the resurrec-
tion at the last day.
The death, of Bishop Capers made a profound
impression throughout the Southern Methodist
Church, in all parts of which he was personally
known and respected. Church meetings and
Quarterly Conferences, by scores, recognized the
loss sustained by the Connection, and adopted
resolutions of sympathy and condolence with the
bereaved family. Many funeral sermons were
preached, as tributes to his memory ; and of these,
one by Bishop Pierce at Nashville, and another by
Dr. Cross at Charleston, were published: both of
them beautiful and eloquent memorials of the
worth of the deceased Bishop.
Over his grave is an oblong structure of gran-
ite covered by a marble slab, in the centre of
which rests a pedestal supporting an obelisk of
Italian marble. This bears the following inscrip-
tions.
21*
490 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBB8.
On the west side :
William Capers,
Born in
St. Thomas' Parish,
South Carolina,
On the 26th Jan., 1790,
And died in Anderson,
South Carolina,
On the 29th Jan., 1855.
On the south side :
One
Of the
Bishops of the
Methodist Episcopal Church, South.
On the east side :
The Founder
Of Missions
To the Slaves in
South Carolina.
On the north side :
Erected
To the
Memory of
The Deceased,
By the
South Carolina
Conference.
MONUMENTAL INSCRIPTIONS. 491
In the Washington Street Church, a tablet of
white marble bears the following inscription:
The Rev. William Capers, D.D.
This Monument
Is erected by the Congregation of this Church
In memory of
The Rev. William Capers, D.D.,
One of the Bishops of
The Methodist Episcopal Church, South,
Who was born in St. Thomas' Parish, S. C,
January 26th, 1790,
And died near Anderson C. II., S. C,
January 29th, 1855,
Having served his own generation by the
Will of God, in the Christian Ministry,
Forty-six years.
His mortal remains repose near this church.
The corner-stone of which he laid
During his ministry in this town
In 1831.
He was the Founder of the
Missions to the slaves
On the plantations of the Southern States.
To shining abilities
Which rendered him universally popular
As a Preacher,
He united great simplicity and , .
Purity of character.
" The righteous shall be in everlasting
Remembrance. ' '
492 IIVB Of WILIIAM CAPSB8.
CHAPTER XX.
The personnel of Bishop Capers — Intellectual character — Conyersa-
tional powers — Religious experience — Style of Prearfiing — The-
ology of the John Wesley school — Administratiye oapaoity —
Family feelings — Belief in a special Providence — Disinterested-
ness— Results of his ministry.
Bishop Capers was of medium height, well
formed, and a little inclined to corpulency in the
advance of life. At middle age his hair, which
was thin, began to fall off, and left him bald. This,
however, only made his appearance more touch-
ingly venerable, during the last ten years of his
life. His face was fine, and its expression that of
blended intelligence and amiability. His eye was
black and lustrous; it indicated great vivacity of
temperament; and seemed gifted with the power
of reading human character at a glance. His
hands were small, with the fingers tapering, and
the nails closely pared. The teeth were perfect;
the lips thin, and indicating decision ; the bust
round and full ; and the voice clear in its ring, and
melodious as a chime of bells. Thus nature had
given him the necessary physique for an orator.
His manners were those of an accomplished
CHARACTER OF BISfiOP CA^BRS. 49S
gentleman. The ease and affisibility, the finieh and
freedom from professional crotchets, which char^
acterized his deportment, arose from his native
kindness of heart, his careful early training, and
the large knowledge of the world to which his
calling had naturally led.
Dignity of person, and the various elements
which make up weight of character, were added to
an intellect distinguished for its keenness, vigor,
and readiness. His mind was well balanced, prac-
tical, and solid ; awake to the sentiment of the
beautiful ; and fitted by culture to appreciate and
enjoy this sentiment in nature and in man. Deli-
cacy, however, rather than majesty, fancy more
than imagination, prevailed in his intellectual con-
stitution.
His powers of conversation were remarkably
fine. He loved to talk; and in talking shone
without effort. A genial spirit of humor, racy
without coarseness ; an unborrowed fund of anec-
dote ; a vein of deep reflection ; all ready to be
laid under contribution for the instruction and
entertainment of those who listened, made his
society very charming. The exquisite symmetry
and versatility of the man came out here, as well
as in every other department of his Well-balanced
character.
His e^tperience of Divine things was genuine and
deep. Christianity, with him, was no mere th^ory^
to be subjected to scientific and critical researieh,
U> be matter of speculation^ and syst^n, and eon*
494 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
fined mainly to the intellect ; nor was it a charch
formalism, standing in a goodly round of ritual
observances. Least of all was it a poetic sentiment-
alism, the mere play-impulse of the susceptibility
to the beautiful and the good. On the contrary, it
was a divine life to his soul, a heavenly renewal of
the spirit by the power of the Holy Ghoflt, as well
as a conscious acceptance with God, through the
atoning sacrifice of the Divine Son. It was com-
munion with the Father of spirits, and a constant
realization of the powers of the world to come,
along with the irrevocable commitment of intellect,
emotion, and will to eternal rectitude. In all the
manifold conditions of social life, he maintained
the delicacy and dignity of a lofty virtue never
subjected to suspicion, never stained by the slightest
shade of moral laxity.
His piety was nurtured by the daily habit of
private prayer. Here he found the strength and
realized the vigor of the religious principle. His
communion with God was ever through the medi-
ation of Christ. His way to the holiest was ever
by the blood of Jesus ; his boldness of access,
through the unchangeable priesthood ; his closet a
precinct of Calvary — a cleft of the sacrificial hill.
He was wont to measure the extent of all gracious
attainments in the soul of a Christian, very much
by the extent to which personal, private prayer has
the force of a vital principle — the fixedness of a
habit. And if he laid this down in his preaching,
a8 a test of religious character and attainment, his
PREACHING OF BISHOP CAPERS. 495
own life was strictly conformed to the standard.
To this habit of private prayer may be traced the
prevailing spirituality, humility, and tenderness
which imbued his ministry. Equipped and armed
with the panoply of the pulpit warrior — " cincture
and breastplate, and greave and buckler, and
helmet and sword,*' his efficiency, after all, came
as the result of his "praying always with all prayer
and supplication in the Spirit."
His public prayers bore the impress of the pri-
vate devotional fervor. They were eminently
spiritual, comprehensive, and edifj^ing: as far re-
moved from any affected magniloquence of words
as from stiff formality or solemn dulness.. Here,
too, it was observable how the expiation of the
cross formed the great plea, was urged as the sole
reason for the bestowment of the Divine mercy and
grace. This gave scope and compass to his peti-
tions ; winged the words of intercession ; warmed
the holy fervor of thanksgiving ; and sent up his
voice to heaven in the acclamation of adoring
praise — "Worthy is the Lamb.*'
His preaching was always and strictly extempo-
raneous, as distinguished from manuscript reading,
and memoriter preparation. He never used notes
of any kind; and probably never, in the whole
course of his ministry, drew up a half- dozen out-
lines. It by no means follows from this, that he
did not make his discourses matter of deep and
concentrated reflection, before their delivery. This
be unquestionably did. But his preparation con-
196 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPBBd.
cerned itself principally with the sabstance, veiy
remotely with the form, probably never with the
mere verbiage of the sermon. His ordinary prac
tice discarded divisions and subdivisions altogether.
His method of treatment was peculiarly his own;
elaborated from some salient point in the subject ;
bound into unity by the subtile affinities of thought
developing thought ; and leaving fresh and distinct
upon the mind of the listener the impression of
some leading truth or duty. A very special fluency
in utterance, the intuitive perception of the right
words, ease of movement, refinement and elegance
of manner, and a chaste and finished delivery,
characterized his preaching. Occasionally he fell
below his usual level of vigorous thought; but
even then, the commonplaces of the pulpit, delivered
by his eloquent voice, charmed the popular ear.
Sometimes he rose above that level, and then the
intellectualist was struck with the freshness and
affluence of his ideas, with the force which vitalized
his conceptions. In his ordinary preaching, a flash
of unexpected light would frequently be thrown
upon some important point in the discussion ; the
latent power or beauty of a word would be brought
out ; and you would be reminded of the saying of
one of the old writers : " I will honor sacred eto-
qttence in her plain trim ; but I wish to meet her
in her graceful jewels ; not that they give addition
to her goodneiBS, but that she is more persuasive in
working on the soul she meets with." His ministry
Was no mere fhnction for doling out cratitiba aad
■**—-.
l^REACHING OF BISHOP CAPERS. 497
milk for babes; it furnished the instruction and
presented the means and motives by which Christ-
ian men could be strengthened, advanced, and ma-
tured in holiness, and fitted for the duties and ex-
igences of life. The well-understood word unction^
describes the prevailing cast of his preaching during
the last decade of his ministry. It is the vital
warmth from heaven, the anointing of the Holy
Ghost, producing a tenderness which yearns over
the souls of men, a gush and flow of sympathy,
throbbing at the preacher's heart, and welling from
eye and tone, and coming fast and faster in irre-
pressible desire for the salvation of souls for whom
Christ died.
It need scarcely be added, that Bishop Capers
was, in his theological opinions, thoroughly Armin-
ian, using that word in the sense of the John
Wesley school. This by no means interfered with
the play of a truly catholic spirit on his part. He
felt how many ties of common sentiment unite
those who "hold the Head.** And he was ever
ready to bid God-speed to all who sincerely labor
to spread Christ's kingdom among men. While,
therefore, his preaching was never controversial,
at the same time it embodied and kept constantly
in view those great elements of gospel truth which
are embraced by the Church to which he was
attached. To these he gave the cordial and full
assent of his mind. He gave utterance to what he
considered no doubtful speculations when he de-
clared the freeness and fulness of Christ's atoning
32
498 LIFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
sacnfice; a general redemption; the free agoncj
and moral accountability of man, and the sincere
ofter, to all, of grace in the gospel proclamation.
He htild the essentially simple and grand Method-
istic point of view: justification by &ith alone, to
all who feel their guilt and danger; faith, a per-
sonal trust in Christ, as a sacrifice and a Saviour ;
the promise of God, suflicieutly free to warrant an
application to Christ for present salvation ; the
witness of pardon by the Spirit of God, the com-
mon privilege of believers ; and this comforting
assurance maintained by the lively exercise of the
same faith which justifies the soul. These were
the doctrinal rudiments which the preaching of
Dr. Capers illustrated and expanded in ample
variety, richness, and beauty. An Evangelist,
with a commission as wide as half a continent,
our good Bishop everywhere proclaimed this
gospel.
His reverence for revealed truth was sincere and
profound. The speculative faculty in his mental
constitution was held in unquestioning submis-
sion to the " mind of the Spirit'* as presented in the
book of God. Where the heavenly illumination
stopped, he stopped. He felt no wish to overstep
the limits which separate the known from the un-
known. That Christianity was from heaven he
had had the most irrefragable of proofs : he had
tried it, and found it Divine. The great substance
and body of truth revealed in Holy Scripture was
clearly perceived and firmly embraced, and fur*
PRBAGHING OF BISHOP CAPERS. 499'
nished him the largest materials for his work as a
preacher. The person and character and life of
Jesus^ — what an inexhaustible mine did he find
there ! With what delight was he accustomed to
dwell upon the scenes and events of the evangelic
narrative ! What frequent and forcible lessons were
furnished him in the parables of our Lord ! Sub-
jects of this kind, under his masterly handling,
were, indeed, many-sided, and fraught with peren-
nial interest. One in the habit of hearing him
often, was apt to be struck with the predominance
of the experimental and practical over the imagin-
ative, in his preaching. Among the themes of the
pulpit, there are some which belong to the loftiest
walks of human thought in the region of the trans-
cendental. An ineffable grandeur invests them.
Their innate majesty kindles the imagination.
Skilfully presented, they touch the soul with
deepest awe and admiration. The human spirit
stands uncovered in the presence of a glory so
dread and supernal. But the class of susceptibili-
ties meant to be chiefly affected by the gospel, lies
in another direction. Man's great business with
the gospel is to find a Saviour there. The main
questions every sermon should propose to answer
are, How may sin be pardoned ? how may its power
be broken, its pollution removed ? how may the new
obedience which springs from loyal love to God in
Christ be achieved? how may the principle of
holiness be strengthened and rendered dominant
in the soul? Questions like these are of tho
500 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
deepest import to the soul awake to its real moral
condition, its tremendous destiny in the life to
come. The solemn function and office of Christ-
ian preaching was ordained to meet these. And
whatever splendor of native endowment, whatever
breadth of learning, or quickness of insight, or
power of dramatic representation the preacher may
possess, all of real vitality and significance which
belongs to these qualities of mind is found in their
concentration upon the grand simplicities of the
gospel; in their being made tributary to one
sublime end, the salvation of men for whom the
Son of God became incarnate and died upon the
cross.
In administrative ability in the episcopal office,
Bishop Capers was not remarkable, though he
held a respectable rank with colleagues who are
justly regarded as eminent in this department of
ecclesiastical service. He never made parliamentary
rules matter of special study, and was inclined, in
the early part of his administration, rather to ignore
them in favor of primitive usage, when he presided
in an Annual Conference. A larger experience
corrected this view; and his second quadrennial
term showed a constantly growing improvement.
His general course was marked with dignity and
courtesy ; and if at any time he became for a mo-
ment fretful, it might be set down to the effect of
bad health on a temperament peculiarly nervous.
His addresses to candidates for membership in the
Conferences, and at the reading out of the appoint-
EPISCOPAL ADMINISTRATION. 501
ments, were always solemn and appropriate ; in
many instances, highly felicitous. In the station-
ing-room he always sought and' was open to the
judgment and counsel of the Presiding Elders;
never exhibiting any consciousness of superior
sagacity — least of all any exercise of arbitrary
power; but, earnestly imploring the Divine guid-
ance, and availing himself of the best lights access-
ible, he discharged the eminently delicate duty of
making out the appointments. While presiding
at one of the sessions of the Georgia Conference,
an embarrassment arose in the stationing-room, in
regard to the appointment of one of the preachers.
Things were left at a dead-lock, when the Presiding
Elders retired. The next morning, Bishop Capers
took occasion, without mentioning names or par-
ticulars, to say to the Conference that Providential
guidance was very much needed in a case which,
the night before, had greatly perplexed his advisers
and himself; and that having entire confidence in
the efficacy of prayer to secure the light and aid
from God which were wanted, in a matter that con-
cerned his cause and kingdom on earth, the earnest
and special prayers of the Conference were asked,
in order that they might be rightly directed in the
present instance. The incident illustrates his pre-
vailing tone of thought and feeling, in the discharge
of the weighty responsibilities of his office.
It is hardly necessary to say, that he regarded
the Episcopate in the Methodist Church as a fun(s
502 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPBE8.
tiou of government and ministration, an order jure
ecclesiasiieo, conferred by election and ordination,
and not a Diviile-right prerogative of a falsely
called priesthood. As he thoroughly eliminated
from his views of the Christian ministry the priestly
element, he had no possible use for the priestly
virtue^ supposed to be mysteriously conveyed in the
so-called Apostolical Succession, and claimed by
the Romanists as necessary to the validity of minis-
terial acts. In this view of priestcraft, which is
the essence of Popery, he agreed with the great
body of Protestant Christians.
Bishop Capers was a man of strong family feel-
ings. No one could enjoy home more than he.
But for the last fifteen years of his life, we have
seen how perpetually he was called to endure long
periods of separation from his family. We have
seen, also, how paramount was the principle oiduty
with him. When the time to set off for an appoint-
ment came, he broke away resolutely from the
charmed circle, holding every personal feeling in
abeyance. In one of his letters from Texas, he
says to Mrs. Capers : " The most trying time of
the whole period of a long absence from home, is
that which comes when, business fully done, there
is nothing remaining but to return. I find it will
not answer to dwell in anticipation at all ; but the
best I can do is to occupy my thoughts with the
kindness of Providence in the past, and so school
myself down to patience as an exercise of gratitude.
PAE£NTAL AFFECTIO'N. 508
In Missouri, in the Indian Territory, in Arkansas, I
would indulge, and often did, in reveries of home,
without restlessness, and even with entire com-
posure; but then, there was much time to pass,
and much of my duty to be performed, before I
might set my face homeward ; and the communion
of home stood more in recollection than anticipa-
tion. Time before me held out a Conference or
Conferences to attend, weighty responsibilities to
be met, holy duties to be performed, before home
might be enjoyed ; and these I would never pass
or skip; but they stood ever before me, thank
God, not as the cherubim, with a fiery sword, but
rather as covenant pledges of fidelity to my Lord,
which I should love to redeem, before I might
think of coming in from the field, and sitting down
to meat. We are poor creatures, unprofitable
servants, after all."
Few parents are to be found, fonder of their
children than he. In his letters when absent from
home, he always sends kisses to each of them.
He often wrote to them. The following are speci-
mens of his correspondence with them. To his
youngest daughter, at that time just learning to
read, he sends the following gem :
" My very dear little daughter Mary : — When
Pa thought he would send the lines in a letter from
Memphis to Emma, his next thought was, what
he should send to his little Mary ; and then he sat
down and wrote these :
504 LIFE OF WILLIAM GAPSBB.
And what shall Mary be,
If Emma is the Rose ?
For Mary — ^let me see —
What flower of flowers grows ?
It must be yery sweet,
And very pretty too ;
A flower right hard to beat,
I hold to Mary due.
The Rose to Emma's given;
To Mary, all the rest /
And let them both send up to heaven
A perfume ever blessed.
Be a dear, sweet child, and keep Ma pleased all the
time till I come home again. Tell brothers Henry
and Ellison to be good boys, and never forget their
prayers. God bless you, my dear little daughter.
" Your aflfectionate father,
"W. Capers.
"Mat 21, 1841."
To his youngest son, Theodotus, then a lad just
old enough to be sent off from home to the Cokes-
bury School, he writes, August 7, 1853 :
" My dear son : — When we parted, on your first
experiment of being from home at a boarding-school,
I dare say we both felt more than we were disposed
to have known. It was owing to sheer absence
(whatever may have been the cause of that absence)
that I did not put into your hand a little money.
I send you your first purse, to be disbursed accord-
ing to your own discretion, in the form of two five^
dollar bills; and with the advice that, for yoiir
CHILDREN OF BISHOP CAPERS. 605
own satisfaction in future, more than my own, you
will keep regular memoranda of how j^ou expend
every fourpence of it. Begin with your beginning
in this way, and if you continue the same practice
through life, it will be all the better for you. May
God bless you, my dear boy. I have high hope of
you ; and confident of your self-respect and readi-
ness to improve your time to better purpose than
youthful fun and frolic. I shall be sadly disap-
pointed if I do not hear the best account of you, if
it shall please God to keep me, as hitherto, through
the journeys of the residue of the year. Xever be
cast down. . Be assured that a worthy and valuable
life can hardly be possible without no little of the
severities of trial and self-denial, which you, like
every other person, must feel to be painful in the
experience of them. Use your time, keep your
conscience tender, fear God, and grow to be an
honor and a blessing."
In a preceding page the death of the Bishop's
daughter, Mrs. Jones, has been mentioned. His
daughter Anna, who was married to the Rev. Dr.
Ellison, a gentleman of high worth, died in 1857,
in the joyful hope of eternal life. Dr. Capers*s
youngest daughter, Mary, is the wife of Professor
Stevens, of the South Carolina Military Academy.
His son Henry Dickson is a practicing physician
it Auburn, Alabama, with fine prospects of dis-
tinction in his profession, and has been married to
he daughter of Dr. A. Means, of Oxford, Georgia.
22
506 lilFB OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
His next son, Ellison, is expected to enter the min-
istry in the South Carolina Conference ; and the
youngest son, Theodotus, is at present a student
matriculated at Wofford College. The Bishop's
domestic relations were exceedingly happy; and
while his children revere the memory of such a
father, they bid fair to be an honor to his name.
Trust in God was a strong, practical principle
with Bishop Capers. He was a firm believer in the
Christian doctrine of a special Providence. He
saw distinctly the proper medium between the
enthusiastic extreme, on the one hand, of expecting
miraculous interpositions, and the rationalistic ex-
treme, on the other, of shutting up the Divine
agency in fixed laws and an uninterrupted, neces-
sitated order in the sequences of nature. He saw
how the Absolute, the great Author of natural
laws, could, without disturbing the settled order of
the physical world, leave himself, in the multitude
of contingencies at his disposal, ample room for the
exercise of a fatherly care over those who put their
trust in him. How often had he realized the fact
that fervent prayer brought actual spiritual influ-
ence upon the soul ! If God, as free Personality,
absolved from any chain of nature's eflfects and
causes, could come thus nigh to his creatures in the
manifestations of his grace, without miracle, and
ii. full accordance with the principles and laws of
his august administration, why should it be doubted
that he is both able and willing to make all out-
ward things tributary to our real well-being? aud
SCHEME OP PROVIDENCE. 607
that, too, without suspending or interrupting the
course of nature. A thing is said to be accidental;
not that it happened without an adequate cause,
but that we know not why the cause of its hap-
pening should have come into operation just then.
But the Divine agency pervading the whole life of
things, can and does arrange, in the complications
of natural phenomena, these accidental things, so
that they touch us and affect us, just at the right
time and in the right >vay to answer the Divine
purpose.
John Fletcher — a name illustrious in the great
Methodistic movement — had entered the military
service of Portugal, when a young man, and was on
the eve of embarking for Brazil, when a servant
accidentaUy overturned a kettle of boiling water on
his leg. He was left behind on the sick-list. This
trifling so-called accident was in the hand of a
special Providence the instrument of a change in
his whole destiny. After his recovery, he sought
active service in Holland; but peace was declared,
and he passed into England, where he was con-
verted to God, and became one of the leaders in
the great revival of the eighteenth century. What
thoughtful, religious, man can review the events of
his own life without perceiving and noting how
often the most important movements in his life-
history turned on the centres of seemingly small
fortuitous events ? The disposing of these fortuities
he will, with adoring gratitude, refer to the special
providence of his Heavenly Father, whose eyes are
508 LIFS OF WILLIAM CAPSS8.
** over the lighteons, and his ears open unto their
prayers." A profound philosophic insight, no less
than an humble pietj, can blend in the harmony
of a higher imitj the sequences of nature and the
interpositions of a paiticular Providence. And
thus, trust in God, so £ir from being a blind im-
pulse, rises into the force of an intelligent and
mighty principle, holding us firm amid life's chances
and changes ; giving nurture to the highest forms
of virtue and piety ; training the soul to the exer-
cise of the noblest qualities demanded by the pur-
pose of life ; and bringing un&iling happiness in
the train of habitual holiness.
This circle of thought is susceptible of a wider
expansion. St. Paul has a. remarkable passage in
his Epistle to the Ephesians : " To the intent that
now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly
places might be known by the Church the mani-
fold wisdom of God." The scheme of Providence
runs through the whole intention of the institution
of the Church, and through the whole history of
her varied fortunes. The spectators of this majes-
tic, all-penetrating movement, are not merely con-
temporaneous nations, during the march of the
ages, but celestial beings of highest rank, and, it
may be, diversified points of abode, in the universe.
These heavenly intelligences are attracted to the
earthly theatre of the developments of the scheme
of redemption, as to the point of view at which
"the manifold wisdom of God" displays its most
luminous illustrations, and its most profound adap-
SCHEME OF PROVIDENCE. 509
tations. Wisdom, and not mere power, is the
attribute most signally disclosed — wisdom, in the
nice poise maintained between the effective energy
of Divine influence and the self-active spontaneity
of the human will — wisdom, in the adjustment of
heavenly grace to the law of individual responsi-
bility— wisdom, in the provision of a sufllcient
remedy for moral evil in the sacrifice of the Divine
Son, and the condition upon which alone this
remedy is efficaciously applied, faith in his blood ;
wisdom, in fine, manifold wisdom, in superintend-
ing the movements of this profoundly balanced
scheme, in the world ; working into the Divine
plan, and making tributary to its ultimate success,
all national vicissitude, all human culture, all con-
flicts of thought ; using subordinate agencies^ and
making even the wrath of man to praise God. The
progress of Christianity seems to be subjected to
the common conditions of human things : errors,
defections, strifes, are not shut out by Divine
power; millions of the human race are yet un-
evangelized ; ages of persecution, ages of darkness,
ages of conflict — these are the epitome of Christian
story. And yet the heavenly watchers have been
contemplating in every one of the evolutions of this
sublime cause, in its ebb no less than in the swell
of its mighty flood, the manifold wisdom of God.
In their magnificent sweep of vision they have seen
this attribute manifested in instances innumerable,
in forms as illustrious as diversified ; and they anti-
cipate with serene confidence the final issue. How
17
510 LIFB OF WILLIAM GAPERS.
honored is that man who is permitted, under such
inspection, to bring the activities of a large intel-
lect and firm will and brave heart, assisted by the
Divine grace, to the service of such a cause !
Surely the sleepless eye of a special Providence
must follow the steps of such a man.
The disinterestedness of Bishop Capers, in a
public life crowded with active labors, and reaching
through near a half century, is worthy of note.
There are Bishops whose annual income is fiftj'
thousand dollars. There have been Bishops who
amassed splendid fortunes from the emoluments of
their office: one leaving a half million of dollars
to his family at his death ; another a million and a
half — "non-preaching prelates,*' many of them, in
addition. Bishop Capers, it need not be said,
belonged not to this class of Church dignitaries.
All he ever received from the Church he served so
long and faithfully, was a bare subsistence ; eked
out, withal, by the sale of his patrimonial property.
Once or twice his personal friends relieved him
from the embarrassment of pressing debts ; a life-
estate was given him and Mrs. Capers in a residence
in Charleston, partly by a donation from the South
Carolina Conference, and partly by contributions
from his friends ; and occasionally some kind-
hearted "sister PauV would, in spite of his deli-
cacy, make him a present of a coat. But the care
of a large family; the expenses of living, and of
perpetual removals; the hospitalities which his
weeding, natural temper, and circumstances ne-
PSCUNIABY BMBARRASSMEKTS. 611
cessitated, involved an outlay of money which kept
him worried with petty pecuniary obligations.
He carried often a burden of spirit which it
demanded the firmest religious principle to sustain
with equanimity. " One thing only might I desire/'
he said in a communication to his brethren of the
South Carolina Conference in 1849, "if it were
God's will, concerning all the cares, business, and
bustle of life; and that is, to wipe my hands clean
of it all now and for ever. But this might not be.
I have a wife and children, and may not be in-
different to temporal things. But my concern
about such things ever has been, and ever shall be,
limited strictly and entirely by the wants of life in
those dependent on me. For myself, I have no
wants, and know no care.'* In the last interview
but one which the writer of the present memoir
had with him, Bishop Capers invited him to step
into an adjoining room, and, with a countenance
beaming with satisfaction, said : " I have a bit of
intelligence for your private ear, which I know will
please you : I am about free from pecuniary em-
barrassment at last." He then gave a brief detail
of the position of his affairs, in a tone tremulous
with the excitement of gratitude to God for his
deliverance from annoyances of that class. And
yet, this was a man whom popularity had followed
for more than fortj^ years ; whose talents, address,
and tried character, if directed to any of the walks
of secular professional life, would have insured
him ample property ; to whom tempting oflfeps had
512 LIFE OF WILLIAM OAPEBS.
actually been made to induce a change in his
denominational relations. His disinterested at-
tachment to the itinerant Methodist ministry was
proof against all assaults from without, all fears
from within. It stirs the sentiment of the moral
sublime to see a man of eminent abilities, world-
wide reputation, and charming social qualities, con-
secrated by the grace of God to one work in life —
that of doing good to his fellows ; adhering to that
work with a constancy which no toil can weary, no
discouragements appall, no illusions beguile, no
temptations allure ; who, with serene purpose, with
** the prophetic eye of faith and the fearless heart
of love," unbought by gain, loyal to the last, pur-
sues the loftiest aim of life, the glory of God and
usefulness to his fellows — secures the greatest good,
the favor of God for ever.
In contemplating the results of such a life as
fchat of William Capers, we must not overlook the
important and vast benefits to society, in an ethical
point of view, which of necessity flow from it.
The Christian preacher is an embassador for Christ.
He proclaims the word of God, the gospel of salva-
tion. He is no mere lecturer on theology, soci-
ology, or any other science. His words are clothed
with the authority of his oflSce ; and he testifies to
all men, " repentance toward God, and faith toward
our Lord Jesus Christ." He reasons of "righteous-
ness, temperance, and a judgment to come." But
then, just so far as he is successful in turning men
from sin to holiness, to that extent he is making
N
VALUE OF MINIStERIAL FUNCTION. 513
good citizens. The law of the Spirit of life in
Christ Jesus, set up in the soul, brings with it the
law of moral restraint, curbs selfishness, expels
dishonesty, enthrones conscience as a ruling power,
gives root and sap to virtue, invests the marriage
relation with sanctity; and into the family, which
in many vital respects is the foundation of the
State, introduces the nurture and discipline that
best prepares for the grave duties of life. The
whole authority of this office of preaching is en-
forced by the retributions of the world to come.
Now, it is undeniable that the best guaranty for
public freedom is found in the spread of a social
virtue based on such principles. The strongest
antagonist to public corruption is the manly valor
in the bosom of the private citizen, which resists
and treads down, by the aid of God's grace in
Christ, the corruption in the heart: the selfish
pride, ambition, and licentiousness which, un-
checked, would flow out in conflict with the rights
of others, and put in peril every thing precious in
a well-ordered state of society. It is beyond the
reach of human calculation, of course, to estimate
the full value to society, to republican institutions,
of the direct and indirect influence of the minis-
terial function, kept true to its lofty and spiritual
ends. But it is abundantly obvious, that a faithful
minister of Christ, who directs his labors to the
great ends of his heavenly commission, becomes
one of the best benefactors to his country. Ever}'^
such preacher, as it has been well said, does more
33
614 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
to guard the interests of social life than live magls<
tratee, armed with penal statutes, and more than
five hundred visionary philosophers, with the best
theories of the perfectibility of man. Dr. Capers
held himself fixedly aloof from all parties and
politics ; nfever attended public dinners, or made
after-dinner speeches; did not even so much as
vote at public elections — not to talk of desecrating
the pulpit to the vile ends of political demagogue-
ism. Near the close of the General Conference of
1844, when the eyes of the whole country were
fixed upon the proceedings in the case of Bishop
Andrew, Mr. Calhoun addressed a note to Dr. Ca-
pers, inviting him to stop at Washington City on
his way home, and favor him with a personal inter-
view in respect to the probable course of the
Southern Conferences. Dr. Capers thought it best
to decline the invitation, lest it should be said, as
indeed it was afterward shamelessly and repeatedly
said in the Northern and North-western papers of
the Church, that the politicians and preachers were
in council. To Csesar let the things of Csesar
belong, was his maxim. Yet, in his own sphere
and proper vocation, how nobly he served his
country the foregoing considerations will show.
From this point of view, his life would be the
record of a potent instrumentality in the moral
triumphs and social progress of his time and nation.
With all the emphasis of truth was it said over
his coflined remains, that he " served his generation."
The direct spiritual good accomplished by the
LITBRAKT REMAINS. 516
ministry of such a man, can be fully known only
at the revelation of the great day. If the award
of that day shall be, " Well done, good and faithful
servant," it will be enough. It were a success for
the faithful minister of Christ, beyond all the lau-
relled prizes of earth, to save his own soul. But
success in his ministry did largely crown the labors
of Bishop Capers. Many were the seals God gave
to his honored servant ; much the fruit which fol-
lowed his exertions. The persons brought under
serious concern — brought to repentance and faith
in Christ — under a single address of his, were
numbered by scores. The whole course of his min-
istry tended to the edification of the Church. And
in the midst of this Church he stood as a shining
pillar, covered with trophies of victory.
He has left behind him no literary monument,
save the Autobiography prefixed to this memoir,
tlie Catechisms for the negro missions, and Short
Sermons and True Tales for children, written for
the Sunday School Visitor, and since his death
published in a neat little volume, by Dr. Summers.
He was formed in the vigorous school of active
life, and the incessant travel and constant preaching
of his earlier years left him no time for the severer
studies which* are necessary to successful author-
ship in the fields of theology, metaphysics, or mora!
science. This early contact with the practical re-
alities of life, while it fostered the energy by which
he forced his way to eminence and usefulness, was
onpropitious to scholarly habits. He had the
616 LIFE OF WILLIAM CAPERS.
elements of a great preacher in him. Preachitg
was to be his work for life. It was to, him, it is
to any man, the noblest of all possible vocations.
In the sphere of great labors which he filled in
the Methodist Church, from his twentieth to his
thirty-fifth year, the special need was for men of
ready, keen, vigorous action^ of eloquent, influen-
tial speech. That he should be a cloistered student,
and at the same time a man of the people, a man
of action, an orator, and a leader in aftairs, was
not to be looked for. However rapid in his mental
combinations, and original and vigorous in his
grasp of thought, there are other qualifications for
authorship which . he well knew his circumstances
had not allowed him to develop. Nor did any
ambition of the sort trouble him. His proper
sphere of service he filled wisely, judiciously, suc-
cessfully. He was one of the master-spirits of the ,
second generation of Southern Methodists; a
worthy successor of Asbury, Hull, Humphries,
and Daugherty; intrepid, whole-hearted, well-
poised, strong in influence that had been nobly
won by great labors ; a doer of things worthy to be
written ; inheriting a dignity unapproached by him
who has merely written things worthy to be read.
Having applied the activities of life to the loftiest
uses, he has passed into the City of God, where, in
the domain of spirits for ever blessed and glorified,
those activities will ever move on,
'< While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures."