Autobiography of John G. Fee, Berea, Kentucky

Introduction

In consenting to write an introduction to the Autobiography of one whom I have long known and honored, I desire to say that the nineteenth century has not been more remarkable for its discoveries in science, art, and all forms of material progress, than it has for the moral heroism of many men and women whose courage, faith, patience and self-sacrifice have done so much to promote justice and humanity, and for the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom. Among these Christian patriots there is one whose long life of consecration to the good of his fellow men ought to be not only an example but an inspiration to the youth of our land. John G. Fee, of Berea, Ky., was born and raised under the influences of slavery and was surrounded by those powerfully conservative forces that held many good men to the defense of oppression.

Perhaps no other institution ever did so much to pervert all sense of justice and to deaden all feelings of compassion as that which declares that under a republican government men might hold their unoffending fellow men in bondage.

"Chain them, and task them, and exact their sweat, With stripes that Mercy with a bleeding heart Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast."

Nay, more, it held that this right of property in man carried with it the right to set at naught the family relation and doom men to the perpetual ignorance of God and his word.

The youth of our land can have little conception of the absolute control that half a century ago the system of slavery had on the minds and consciences of the nation. Nothing but a sublime faith in God enabled the men and women of that day to cheerfully accept reproach, ostracism and ridicule as inevitable consequences of the defense of the poor and needy whose special claim was that they

4 INTRODUCTION. ■

were at once the feeblest and most despised of the children of men. Nor has this been the sole, possibly not the greatest, of the moral conflicts that have demanded and developed a true, moral heroism. The spirit of caste, the outgrowth of slavery, was and is not less exacting and iniquitous. To regard a fellow man simply in his relation to his Maker, and to accord to him just that appreciation that his intelligence and moral worthiness demand, to do this without regard to sect or color, is still held in large sections of our country to be a crime against society which will not be tolerated when there is power to suppress it. So, too, the moral protest against oathbound secret societies, — the uncompromising hostility to the liquor traffic and to any form of legislative approval of it, and above all, the opposition to divisions in the church of Christ as seen in the sects and denominations, demand a moral heroism which needs to be not less steadfast and self-sacrificing than that which wrested from slavery its scepter of power. Because Mr. Fee was in all these points most uncompromising and true, and because of his indomitable perseverance amidst abounding obstacles, he has achieved a large measure of success, and won the appreciation of even his sometime enemies. But Bro. Fee is now advanced in life. His labor, though still efficient and valuable, cannot in the nature of things much longer continue. His reward is in his works that will follow him. In the language of the poet reformer, John G. Whittier, as applied to another, we may say, "Thanks for the good man's beautiful example."

" His faith and works, like streams that intermingle, In the same channel ran;

The crystal clearness of an eye kept single Shamed all the frauds of man.

The very gentlest of all human natures He joined to courage strong,

And love outstretching unto all (}od's creatures With sturdy hate of wrong."

H. H. HiNMAN.

Preface

Some six years since a friend requested that I prepare articles for the Berea Evangelist, on the topic, "Berea: its History and its Work." I did so. The articles appeared in the Berea Evangelist during the years 1885-6. Since that time friends have urged that I prepare a sketch of my leadings and labors up to my coming to Berea, and embody the whole in a volume. To do so will now be labor and care; yet in this way I may be able to do continued good, — utter truth when my tongue shall be silent. I may be able in an emphatic way to say to the reader, Trnst God — trust him for success, for support, for life. If in this way you will trust God, he by his word, by his Spirit and by his providence, will lead you into the highest usefulness of which, in your day and generation, you are capable. Often trials will come, friends fail, and the heavens above appear as brass and the earth beneath as iron, yet if you will holdonvi\\h Jacob, or stand still with Moses, you will see the face of God; the Red Sea of difficulties will open before you, and you will walk through dry shod. The future journey may indeed be a barren, stony wilderness, yet the manna will be fresh every morning and the shekinah of God will go before you and lead you across the Jordan, where you will eat the '-'new corn" in the land of promise. To this my own consciousness bears testimony; were I to say less I would not be faithful.

John G. Fee.

Berea, Ky., i8gi.

Chapter I

Parentage. — Conversion. — College Life. — At the Theological Seminary. — Deep Conviction and Consecration. — Field of Labor. — Burden of Spirit. -Sealing of the Holy Spirit. — Wife Chosen. — Betrothal. — Search for the Field of Labor. — Marriage. — Called to the Church in Lewis County. — Anti-Slavery Sermon. — Cast out of a Boarding-place 9-30

CHAPTER n.

A Home. — Resolutions of the Church. — Salary. — Meeting of Synod. — Resolutions. — My Withdrawal. — Ecclesiastical Position. — Union on Christ. — Separation from A. M. Society. — Anticipated Mob. — Prosecution of Hannahs. — invitation to C. M. Clay. — Expected Violence. — Anti-Slavery Manual. — Protest against Secret Orders 31-55

CHAPTER HL

Commission from the A. M. A.— Preaching and Church Building. — Redemption of a Slave Woman. — Her Effort to Free her Children. — Her Capture and Imprisonment 56-71

CHAPTER IV.

Imprisonment of a Colporter. — Assault on Myself. — House Burning. — Church House. — Baptism. — Consideration of the Subject. — Baptism of Myself and Wife. — Invitation to Madison County. — Organization of a Church. — Call to the Church. —

Selection of a Place. — Name, Berea 72-93

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER V.

Removal to Madison County. — Projected College. — Its Foundation Principles. — Survey of Fields. — Mob at Dripping Springs. — Mob in Rockcastle County. — Fourth of July. — C. M. Clay and I differ. — Mob in Rockcastle County. — Mob in Madison County. — Dark Days at Berea. — Entreaty to Leave. — Decision to Hold On. — Trusts 94-124

CHAPTER VI.

Coming of J. A. R. Rogers. — Visit of C. M. Clay. — His Expediencies. — The first Commencement. — Adoption of a Constitution. — Caste. — Sectarianism. — Decision to Raise Funds. — Visit to the Imprisoned Mother. — Address in Plymouth Church. — Expulsion of Teachers and Friends at Berea. — Excitement in Bracken County. — Wife Returns to Berea. — Our Sojourn in Ohio. — Death and Burial of our Son Tappan. — Visit to Berea 125-160

CHAPTER VII.

Effort to Get Back.— Battle at Richmond, Ky.— Again Mobbed at Augusta, Ky. — Mobbed at Washington, Ky. — Return of my Wife to Berea. — Her Stay There. — Return to the Border. — Stay at Parker's Academy. — Return to Berea. — Resumption of the Work. — Moved to go to Camp Nelson. — My Work There 161-183

CHAPTER VIII.

Return to Berea. — Resumption of the Work. — The American Missionary Association. — W^ork Denominational — Divisive. — Association of Ministers and Churches. — Kentucky Missionary Association. — A Convention of Christians. — An Address, "Wherein We Differ from the Denominations." 184-212

CHAPTER I.

Parentage.— Conversion.— College Life.— At the Theological Seminary. — Deep Conviction and Consecration. —Field of Labor.— Burden of Spirit.— Sealing of the Holy Spirit. — Wife Chosen. — Betrothal. — Search for the Field of Labor. — Marriage. — Called to the Church in Lewis County. — Anti-Slavery Sermon. — Cast out of a Boarding-place.

I WAS born in Bracken County, Kentucky, Sept. 9, 1816.

My father, John Fee, was the son of John Fee, senior. He was of Scotch and EngHsh descent. His wife, formerly Elizabeth Bradford, was of Scotch-Irish descent. My father was an industrious, thrifty farmer. Unfortunately he inherited from his father's estate a bondman — a lad bound until he should be 25 years of age.

My father came to the conclusion that if he would have sufficient and permanent labor he must have slave labor. He purchased and reared slaves until he was the owner of some thirteen. This was a great sin in him individually, and to the family a detriment, as all

moral wrongs are. 9

My father was observant, and by his reading kept himself famiHar with passing events. He saw that the effects of slavery were bad ; that it was a hindrance to social and national prosperity; and consequently invested his money in lands in free States and early deeded portions of these lands to each of his children. He did not see the end from the beginning, — what was to be the after-use of some of these lands.

My mother was industrious and economical; a modest, tender-hearted woman, and a fond mother. I was her first born. She loved me very much, and I loved her in return.

Her mother, Sarah Gregg, was a Quakeress from Pennsylvania. Her eldest son, Aaron Gregg, my wife's grandfather, was an industrious free laborer, an ardent lover of Hberty, and very out-spoken in his denunciations of slavery. This opposition to slavery and his love of liberty passed to his children and children's children, almost without exception.

In my boyhood I thought nothing about the inherent sinfulness of slavery. I saw it as a prevalent institution in the family life of my relations on my father's side of the house. These were kind to me, and occupied what were considered good social positions. I was often scolded for being so much with the slaves, and threatened with punishment when I would intercede for them. Slavery, like every other evil institution, bore evil fruits, blunted the finest sensibilities and hardened the tenderest hearts.

[By false teaching, unreflective youth can be led to look upon moral monstrosities as harmless; as even heaven-approved institutions. Vivid now is the impression made on my 3^outhful mind on seeing a Presbyterian preacher, who was a guest in my grandfather's house, rise before an immense audience and -select for his text, "Cursed be Canaan: a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren." Of course the drift of the discourse was after the plea of the slaveocracy— "God decreed that the children of Ham should be slaves to the children of Shem and Japheth; that Abraham held slaves, and Moses sanctioned such."

All this was intensified by seeing a muchvenerated neighbor, and slaveholder, who had represented the people in the State Legislature, mount his horse, then uncovering his gray hairs, cry out in a loud voice, "The greatest sermon between heaven and earth." The providence and truth of God led me, in after years, to a very different conclusion.

In the year 1830, when I was fourteen years old, Joseph Corlis, an earnest Christian man, took a subscription school near to my father's house, and insisted with great earnestness that he be allowed to board in my father's family. There was a providence in this. Under his prayers and faithful labors, I was deeply convicted of sin and gave myself to God. My desire was to connect myself wath the M. E. church. My father opposed, saying I was too young. He was not himself a Christian. Some two years after this he was awakened, joined the Presbyterian church near to his home, and requested that I go with him. I desired a home with God's people, and gladly embraced the opportunity. After the lapse of some two years I was impressed that it was my duty to prepare for the Gospel ministry. I soon entered as a student in Augusta College, then located in Augusta, Bracken Co., Ky., my native county. I prosecuted my studies there for. about two and a-half years, then went to Miami University, at Oxford, Ohio, and there finished my course of classical study save the* review of the last term of study; and finding I could do this at Augusta College, and enter Lane Theological Seminary at the beginning of the term of study there, I returned to Augusta College and took my diploma there. I entered Lane Seminary in the year 1842. Here I met in class one of my former class-mates, John Milton Campbell, a former student at Oxford, Ohio. He w^as a man of marked piety and great goodness of heart. Years previously he had consecrated himself to the w^ork of missions and chose West Africa as his field. Another member of the same class w^as James C. White, formerly of Boston, Massachusetts, late pastor of the Presbyterian church on Poplar St., Cincinnati. These brethren became deeply interested in me as a native of Kentucky and in view of my relation to the slave system, my father being a slaveholder. They pressed upon my conscience the text, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thy self," and as a practical manifestation of this, "Do unto men as ye would they should do unto you." I saw that the duty enjoined was fundamental in the religion

U AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of Jesus Christ, and that unless I embraced the principle and lived it in honest practice, I would lose my soul. I saw also that as an honest man I ought to be willing to wear the name which would be a fair exponent of the principle I espoused. This was the name Abolitionist, odious then to the vast majority of people North, and especially South. For a time I struggled between odium on the one hand, and manifest duty on the other. I saw that to embrace the principle and wear the name was to cut myself off from relatives and former friends, and apparently from all prospects of usefulness in the world. I had in the grove near the seminary a place to which I went ever}^ day for prayer, between the hours of eleven and twelve. I saw that to have light and peace from God, I must make the consecration. I said, "Lord, if needs be, make me an Abolitionist." The surrender was complete. I arose from my knees with the consciousness that I had died to the world and accepted Christ in all the fullness of his character as I then understood Him. Self must be surrendered. The test, the point of surrender, may be one thing to one man, a different thing to another man; but it must be made,- — all given to Christ.

In this consecration — this death to the world— I also made up my mind to accept all that should follow. Imperfect as has been my life, I do not remember that in all my after difficulties I had to consider anew the questions of sacrifice of propert}^, of comfort, of social position, of apparent failure, of personal safety, or of giving up Hfe itself. The latter I regarded as even probable. This, with the rest, had been embodied in my former consecration. I felt that "my life was hid with Christ in God."

Soon after the submission and consecration V referred to, the question arose. Where ought I to expend my future efforts, and manifest forth this love to God and man.? I had invitations to go with class-mates into the State of Indiana, into communities thrifty and prosperous, with multipHed schools and growing churches. This was enticing to young aspirations, even to those who intended to do good. I was also considering seriously the duty of going with J. M. Campbell, my classmate, to Western Africa; and was in "correspondence with the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions in reference to my going as a missionary abroad.

Whilst these fields of labor were being considered, there came irresistibly the consideration of another field: that part of the home field which lay in the South, and especially in Kentuck}^, my native State. Then came before me my relation to the slave. I had shared in the fruits of his unrequited toil; he was blind and dumb, and there was no one to plead for him.

"Love thy neighbor as thyself" rang in my ears. 1 also considered the condition of the slave-owner. I knew he was willingly deceived by the false teachings of the popular ministry. I knew also that the great part of the non-slaveowners, who w^ere by their votes and action the actual slaveholders, did not see their crime; that they despised the slave because of his condition, and that these non-slaveowners were violently opposed to any doctrine or practice that might treat the slave as a "neighbor," a brother, and make him equal before the law. I knew also that the great body of the people were practically without the fundamental principle of the Gospel, love to God and love to man; that, as in the days of Martin Luther, though the doctrine of justification by faith was plainly written in the Bible, yet the great body of people did not then see it; so now the great doctrine of loving God supremely and our neighbor as ourselves, "on which hang all the law and the prophets," though clearly written in the Bible, was not seen in its practical application by the great mass of the people. Such was my relation to this people, and theirs to God and the world, that I felt I i/nis^ return and preach to them the gospel of impartial love.

In my bedroom on bended knee, and looking through my window across the Ohio river, over into my native State, I entered into a solemn covenant w^ith God to return and there preach this gospel of love without which all else was "as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal."

I had kept up correspondence with my father, and told him my convictions and purposes. He was greatly incensed, and wrote, saying, "Bundle up your books and come home ; 1 have spent the last dollar I mean to spend on you in a free State."

At the end of my second 3^ear of theological study I returned to my home, intending to do what I could for my father's conversion and that of the family. I spent ten months with my father and the community around. I felt during this time a great burden of spirit in view of the condition of society and the work which lay before me. I spent at one time, alone, in an open field on my father's farm, a whole night in prayer. On two other occasions, in prayer, alone, in a distant part of the farm, I had to m3^soul two of the fullest revelaations of the glory of God in my life's history. These were not my first conversion, nor second conversion, nor sanctification. Conversion is committal to Christ, soul, body, and spirit. Of this I had been conscious previous to these after sealings of the Spirit.

Sanctification is none the less by faith than justification, but it is continuous. There may arise to-day a new duty, a new apprehension of a habit un-Christ like, but not seen before. With this new apprehension comes the necessity of a new committal to Christ, with full assurance of sustaining grace.

There was another incident, a providence of good to me in these months of stay and labor. During a series of religious meetings held in the church house where I had previously made my own public profession of Christ, I saw the conversion of the one to whom I gave my best affections, and the one I then decided to make, if possible, the sharer of my future joys and sorrows. I had known her from her childhood, and her mother before her; yet with all her attractions and merits in my eyes, I had no thought of choosing her previous to her conversion, as the partner of my life. I knew no one could be happy with me, nor a help-mate in the Hfe I had resolved to hve, unless she was converted, and thus one in spirit and purpose with myself.

On that day of her conversion and espousal to Christ (for I heard her experience and consecration) I decided to seek with her future oneness. I had before me a governing purpose, and to this all my plans conformed. Marriage to me was not a mere impulse nor a mere business transaction. I believed then, as now, that in order to true and wise marriao-e there is some one in the world in whom there is, first, that pecuhar combination of qualities which form the basis of peculiar and exclusive affection; and then there must be that purpose of soul and habit of Hfe that fit for future harmony and usefulness. This I found in her: that affection, sympathy, courage, cheer, activity, frugality and endurance, which few could have combined, and which greatly sustained me ia the dark and trying hours that attended most of our pathway. This much is due to truth and may be suggestive to others.

By this time it became apparent that my work in trying to convert my father to sentiments of justice and liberty was ended. He ,had suppHed himself, from every possible source, with pro-slavery books and pamphlets, and became violent in his opposition to all efforts for the freedom of the slave. He still hoped to efface my convictions and lure me from my purpose. He offered to pay all bills if I would go to Princeton, New Jersey, and spend a year in the Theological Seminary in that place. This offer I declined. I said, I will not by any act of mine bid God-speed to an institution in which the teaching and practice is subversive of the fundamental principles of the Gospel, — love to God supreme, and to our neighbors as ourselves.

I was offered the pastorate of two churches in the county (Bracken), with abundant support, but on the condition that I would "go along and preach the Gospel and let the subject of slavery alone." I replied, "The Gospel is the good news of salvation from sin, all sin, the sin of slave-holding as well as all other sins;

JOHh' G. FEE. 21

and I will not sell my convictions in reference to that which I regard as an iniquity, nor my liberty to utter these convictions for a mess of pottage."

I saw that my work in that region was ended. But my covenant was upon me to preach the gospel of love in Kentucky. I needed therefore to look for another field.

Ecclesiastically I was connected with the New School Presbyterian "church" or sect. The ministerial brethren of that body at that time, in Kentucky, were relatively few. Several of these brethren earnestly solicited my co-operation. I told them my convictions in reference to the sinfulness of human slavery; of its utter subversion of the great fundamental principles of the Gospel. Some replied, "Yes, slavery is a bad thing; so was polygamy; but God tolerated it, and sent his prophets to preach principles that ultimate^ supplanted it. So," they said, "we must deal with slavery." I replied, Principles can be effective only as they are seen and applied.

I was fettered with the notion that if I would purify the church, or sect, I must stay in it and there apply the principles, hold up the truth. Soon, however, an "eye-opener"

came. I was invited to attend a meeting of the presbytery within the bounds of which I was then living. This was near to Cynthiana, Harrison Co., Ky. I went. I saw there, as elsewhere, the blight of slavery on every thing around me; the degradation of the slave, the idleness of the youth, the pride of the people, the spirit and manner of the ministers themselves. Sabbath came; and the hour to commune, to eat at the Lord's table, came. With this came to my mind the text, "If any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such an one not to eat." I said. If the slaveholder be not an extortioner, then no man under heaven is. I left the church house, and went out into an adjoining woodland and sat down on a log and wept as I thought of my condition, — that of holding ecclesiastical connection with men with whom I could not eat at the Lord's table. The pastorate of that church was offered to me. I saw in the eldership and leading mem bers determined opposition to the freedom of the slave. I saw there was not to me, in that place, an open door, and returned to my home.

After a few days I took m}^ horse and started on an exploring tour through the interior of the State. Then, hke most other ministers, I was w^orking in the narrow groove of sect, and that a small one in Kentucky. Going from place to place, I traveled on horseback between three and four hundred miles. I heard, in my journeying, of a small church in the city of Louisville, Kentucky, then without a pastor. I visited the church and found the membership small — twenty-one in number. In this church there was to me one hopeful feature, and that was that there was but one slave-owner in the membership, and she the widow of a former preacher, who was represented as having been an anti-slavery man. I said, This people will probably hear the truth spoken in love. I agreed to come and labor with them for a season, I then returned to my home in Bracken County.

Soon a letter from the church followed me, saying, "If you will be useful among us, you must separate yourself from that abolition presbytery at Cincinnati." By that presbytery I had been hcensed to preach the Gospel, and my connection, ecclesiastically, was yet with that body. I repHed, If my usefulness with you depends upon my separating from godly men, then with you I cannot be useful.

Again I w^as apparently without a field of labor; but my purpose was unchanged, and my wilUng covenant to preach the gospel of love in my native State w^as yet upon me, but in what place to preach I knew not. With me it was then true that I must go forward, ♦'not knowing w^hither I went."

As previously suggested, my life's future was merged with that of another, and hers with mine. She had decided to go where I should go, and if I roamed in keeping my covenant, I should not roam alone. Accordingly with her consent, Matilda Hamilton and I were married September 26, 1844.

Soon after this, two brethren, S. Y. Garrison and E. P. Pratt, extended to me an invitation to assist in a meeting to be held in Lewis County, Kentucky. I accepted the invitation and went at the time appointed. I found a new church house just completed, and a large concourse of people. As I was informed, most of the people were descendants of Pennsylvanians, and but few slaveholders were in the community. The membership of the church was small, but to me hopeful. There were at the beginning of the meeting only three members. These were women, wives of men who were not slaveholders. During the meeting two persons, on the profession of their faith, were added to the church. These were not slaveholders. I preached to the people, found attentive ears, and immediately an urgent solicitation to labor with them.

In that community there was but one other church, a small band of Old School Presbyterians, The man who preached to them, once in each month, lived many miles distant, and was pro-slavery in his teachings. I said, These people are practically w^ithout the Gospel; this is missionary ground; there is an open door and I will come. Efforts were made to secure for me a partial support. Nearly one hundred dollars were pledged by the people; application was made to the Amt^rican Home Missionary Society for additional aid; and, as I n:>w recollect, the sum was two hundred dollars. I returned to Bracken County, where I had previously left an appointment to deliver a lecture on the subject of slavery, in the court house in Brooksville, the county seat. This appointment produced great commotion. Threats of violence were made, and with these came entreaties from relatives and friends to withdraw the appointment. During hfe, in all new or responsible engagements, I have been slow and careful in making them; but once made, as far as I can now remember, I have met my appointments, or made a vigorous effort in trying to do so.

I went to the appointment, — my wife with me. James Hawkins, then the nominal slave of my father-in-law, went also, but "followed afar off." He went not to be seen as a hearer, but to guard the horses and saddles of myself and wife, and this of his ovv^n devising; — not known to us. We found in the court house a small audience of men. I delivered my lecture and we came quietly home.