 |
Axley and presiding elder Jacob Young made one visit to the Ouachita
area, but due to high water Axley was confined to Catahoula for most of
the year. In his single year appointment to Louisiana, Axley built
the state's first Methodist church.
In Young's autobiography, he tells of how Axley build Louisiana's first
church building. The location was mentioned in an 1833 letter as
being along Bushley Creek, just south of Harrisonburg ... near Catahoula
Lake. |
| "At this time he met with great opposition, and was sorely
persecuted by the Universalists, Dunkards, and Catholics. We made
him up some money to buy him some clothes, and sent it to him, but he paid
the money out for flooring boards. He then went into the forest,
and cut down pine trees, and hewed them with his own hands - next, borrowed
a yoke of exen, and hauled them together; finally, he called the neighbors
to raise the house, which he covered with shingles, made with his own hands.
He built his pulpit - cout out the doors and windows - bought him boards
and made seats. He then have notice that the meeting house was ready,
and if the people would come together he would preach to them." |
James Axley resources:
Sketches of Western Methodism by James B. Finley
Material about James Axley from "History of the Methodist
Episcopal Church," Vol. IV., by Abel Stevens;
Cyclopedia of Methodism by Matthew Simpson
Nathan Bangs' M. E. History
Autobiography of Peter Cartwright
William McKendree, a Biographical Study" By E. E. Hoss.
From "Sketches of Western Methodism:
By James B. Finley
Chapter 16
JAMES AXLEY
The following graphic and stirring
sketch of the Rev. James Axley, the eccentric preacher, has been kindly
furnished for us by the Rev. Thomas A. Morris, D. D., Bishop of the Methodist
Episcopal Church. It consists mostly of personal reminiscences of that
remarkable man, and such, indeed, in a majority of instances, is all that
we can gather of the fathers of Methodism in the west. So far as
a connected biography is concerned the most that, we can find is the bare
announcement, on the Minutes of the various fields of labor, occupied by
the preachers from year to year, and then, at the close of their earthly
labors, a short obituary, embracing but a meager outline of their life
and labors, and the circumstances connected with their death. But even
this is denied the toil-worn soldier, should he be found in the local ranks,
when death calls to take him home.
| "In 1804 the Western conference was reinforced by a class
of young men, some of whom became very distinguished Methodist preachers
-- among them were Samuel Parker, Peter Cartwright, and James Axley. With
the last-named I never enjoyed but one week's personal acquaintance, but
that left on my memory an indelible impression of his person and character,
of which this pen-portrait is but an imperfect reflection. He had mingled
with scenes of excitement, toil, and peril, well calculated to develop
his physical and mental energies. Among his early fields of labor were
Red river, Hockhocking, French Broad, Opelousas, and Powel's Valley.
Subsequently he labored on Wabash, Holston, Green River, and French Broad
districts as presiding elder. These widely-separated points in the Lord's
vineyard, all included in the old Western conference, indicate that he
had a pretty thorough breaking into the Gospel harness after the manner
of our fathers, in the days of Bishop Asbury, when itinerancy was what
its name imports. |
James Axley's saddlebags
|
"Long as I had been crossing the
path of that notable man, and much as I had heard of him among the people,
my first sight of him was not obtained till the autumn of 1837. That year
the Holston conference met at Madisonville, eastern part of Tennessee,
some ten miles from which brother Axley, then in a local relation, resided.
The first day of the session after adjournment I was walking to my lodgings
alone, when I heard a brother some forty steps behind me say to another,
'Yonder comes brother Axley.' Looking ahead, I observed a man advancing
toward me whose person was imposing. He was perhaps five feet eight inches
high; not corpulent, but very broad and compactly built, formed for strength;
his step was firm, his face was square, complexion dark, eyebrows heavy,
appearance rugged; dressed in the costume of our fathers, with straight
breasted coat, and broad-brimmed hat projecting over a sedate countenance.
His wide-spread fame as a natural genius without any early education, and
especially the numerous incidents I had heard of him as a western pioneer,
had excited in me a greater desire for his personal acquaintance than that
of any other living man I had ever seen, except Jacob Gruber. The sound
of his name falling on my ear involuntarily quickened my pace, and we were
soon together. As I neared him I held out my right hand and received his,
when the following salutations were exchanged:
'How are you, brother Axley?"
"Who are you?'
"'My name is Thomas A. Morris.'
"Then surveying me from head to foot, he
replied, "Upon my word, I think they were hard
pushed for Bishop timber when they got hold of you."
"That is just what I thought myself; brother
Axley."
"Why, you look too young for a Bishop."
"As to that, I am old enough to know
more and do better."
"Turning back with me, we walked to
our lodging, being both quartered at the same place.
Axley's gravesite in Tennessee
|
Every hour that I could redeem
from conference and council business was enlivened by his quaint but thrilling
narratives of his early travels, labors, and difficulties. Unaccustomed
to the free use of the pen, he kept all his records in his tenacious memory,
much strengthened by use, and narrated with uncommon precision as to names,
dates, and the order in which facts transpired. This he did leisurely and
with perfect self possession, but spiced the whole with such apt remarks
and consummate good humor that the attention of the company never faltered.
Never was I better entertained or more instructed with the conversation
of a fellow-sojourner in one week than with his. It was decidedly rich.
"Next morning I observed him seated
near the door, remote from the business platform, and invited him forward
to conduct the opening religious service of the conference. Then it was
that some of his peculiarities were practically developed to me for the
first time. His reading and prayer were brief and simple, yet quite impressive;
but his singing took me entirely by surprise. He used no hymn book, gave
out no lines but led off on a familiar hymn and tune in strains so exhilarating
and devotional that both appeared to be new and super excellent. Whether
he had ever paid any special attention to tune-books is doubtful, as he
was proverbial for his opposition to choir-singing. However that may have
been, his voice embodied in itself more strength, more volume, more melody,
and certainly more devotional influence, than that of an ordinary church
choir of a dozen select singers. He was invited to a seat on the platform.
"After the journal was read,
an unimportant resolution was offered, over which there was a little sharp
shooting by speech-makers. Our guest, though opposed to the motion, did
not interfere in the discussion. The brethren, having fired their minute
guns, came to a vote, expressed in the usual way by raising their hands:
two hands were plainly visible, and another was partly elevated and then
suddenly drawn down. Before the Chair had time to announce the decision,
brother Axley vociferated, in a very quaint manner, 'Just two votes and
a half for that!' The effect upon the risibles of the body ecclesiastic
was electrical; the gravest of the fathers were convulsed with laughter.
Only the author of it seemed to be self-possessed. |
"There were points of singular contrast
in his character. His exterior was rough as a block of granite fresh from
the quarry, and his manner of reproving disorderly persons at popular meetings
over which he presided was said to indicate severity; yet his conscience
was so tender and his moral sensibility so acute, that a mere suggestion
from a friend that he had erred in any given case would draw from him prompt
acknowledgment with a shower of tears. His dress and address indicated
the rustic, probably perpetuated by the force of early habit; and yet in
social intercourse he was both kind and attractive. His conversational
talent was of a superior order. Without classical learning or much
pretension to book knowledge, he was such a master in practical, everyday
affairs that he could not only delight, but instruct sages and divines.
He could so present even a commonplace topic as to throw interest around
it, and by his musical powers he conquered some who could be reached by
no other means. I was informed that individuals who were at first his enemies
and persecutors because of his profession as a Methodist preacher, on hearing
him sing, became his warm friends; and I do not doubt it. Indeed, he told
me of himself an instance in which he was relieved from great embarrassment
by singing, without saying any thing as to the merit of the performance.
It occurred while he was laboring on the Opelousas mission, in Louisiana,
perhaps about the year 1807 or 1808. In order to supply some destitute
neighborhoods with the Gospel by enlarging his mission, he went on a tour
of exploration where he was a stranger to all. Some of his adventures during
that expedition would, by the ministers of this generation, be regarded
as specimens of moral heroism. But omitting other incidents, I shall refer
only to the point in hand. One evening, after riding all day without any
dinner, he called at a house where the family consisted of a widow lady,
a grown daughter, a number of children, and some servants, none of whom
were religious. The lady and her family regretted his coming, would not
grant his request to remain over night, and clearly indicated, by looks
and actions, that he was an unwelcome guest. The reader may ask why he
did not leave immediately. The reason was, he knew, if defeated in obtaining
lodging there, nothing remained for him but a berth in the dark wood, without
food or shelter, at an inclement season of the year. As he lingered a little
to warm himself and consider how he should manage to pass that dreary night,
the thought of his forlorn condition as a homeless stranger, without money
or friends, came like a dark cloud over his mind. His deep, sad cogitations
proceeded in silence. Then, as was natural in his extremity, he turned
his thoughts toward his heavenly Father's house above, where he hoped some
day to find a home free from the ills of mortal life. Being a little cheered
with the prospect, without leave, introduction, or ceremony, he began to
sing one of the songs of Zion in a strange land. As he proceeded his depressed
feelings became elevated; the vision of faith ranged above and beyond the
desolate wilderness he had just been contemplating as the place of his
night's sojourn; the family were soon all melted into tears; he took fresh
courage, and sang on with the least possible pause, till he had finished,
perhaps, the third song, when the lady called a servant, and ordered him
to put the gentleman's horse in the stable; and the, daughter added, 'Be
sure to feed him well.' Thus a few strains of sacred melody, such as Axley
could wield, removed all opposition and relieved the case.
"Brother Axley made every important
interest of life a subject of prayer as all Christian people should. Toward
the close of our week's interview he incidentally alluded to his courtship
and marriage, which occurred, I believe, after he had been a minister some
years He opened his mind to his intended by letter, inclosed in another
letter to her brother, with whom she resided. To the brother he wrote,
if he had any objection to the correspondence with his sister, to burn
it, and that would end the matter. The letter, however, was delivered into
her hand, containing a proposition of marriage, and a notice that he would
be there on a given day to receive the answer. On the day appointed he
came, obtained an interview, and opened the cause by stating he wished
to talk over the subject alluded to in his letter; 'but, first of all,'
said he, 'we must pray for direction.' They kneeled together, and he led
in prayer. After prayer he wished to know whether she consented to the
proposed union. She thought it would not be amiss for her to have longer
time in which to decide; but he deemed that needless, as they were well
acquainted, and insisted on a present and direct answer. The result was
marriage.
"He was proverbial for his opposition
to slavery and whisky. After he located he supported his family by the
labor of his own hands as a farmer, and was wont to testify, on all proper
occasions, that his logs were rolled, his house raised, and his grain cut
without whisky; and though he had plentiful crops of corn, not the first
track of a negro's foot was ever seen in one of his fields. Such was his
version of facts, as I learned from some of his friends.
"I never heard brother Axley preach; but, according to popular fame, his
pulpit performances were practical, forcible, and left a deep and abiding
impression on the multitudes that thronged together to hear him. To this
day we occasionally hear allusion made to a sermon he preached in the city
of Baltimore, during the General conference of 1820, of which he was a
member. It must have been a potent sermon to be remembered so distinctly
for the third of a century. I have heard also very frequent allusions to
his pulpit performances in different parts of the western country, where
he had operated to good purpose as a traveling preacher, more particularly
in Kentucky and Tennessee. But perhaps the effort which occasioned the
most talk and obtained the greatest notoriety was the one said to have
been made in his own section of country, and was commonly known as Axley's
temperance sermon, though not so designated by any pre-announcement. It
should be known that east Tennessee in those days was regarded as a great
country for producing peach-brandy, and for a free use of it; also, that
the New Lights abounded there, familiarly called Schismatics, and that
Church members who rendered themselves liable to a disciplinary process
would occasionally go over to them, as a city of refuge, where they felt
safe from its restraints. With this preliminary, I proceed to recite a
passage from the sermon, reminding the reader that my authority is not
personal knowledge, but the verbal statement of a highly-respectable Methodist
minister, Rev. Dr. G., of Tennessee. I write it substantially as I heard
it:
"TEXT: 'Alexander the coppersmith did me much evil: the
Lord reward him according to his works,' 2 Timothy iv, 14.
"Paul was a traveling preacher,
and a bishop, I presume, or a presiding elder at least; for he traveled
extensively, and had much to do, not only in regulating the societies,
but also in sending the preachers here, there, and yonder. He was zealous,
laborious, would not build on another man's foundation, but formed new
circuits, where Christ was not named, 'so that from Jerusalem, and round
about unto Illyricum, he had fully preached the Gospel of Christ.' One
new place that he visited was very wicked -- Sabbath-breaking, dancing,
drinking, quarreling, fighting, swearing, etc., abounded; but the word
of the Lord took effect; there was a powerful stir among the people, and
many precious souls were converted. Among the subjects of that work there
was a certain noted character, Alexander by name, and a still-maker by
trade; also, one Hymeneus, who was his partner in the business. Paul formed
a new society, and appointed brother Alexander class-leader. There was
a great change in the place; the people left off their drinking, swearing,
fighting, horse-racing, dancing, and all their wicked practices. The stills
were worked up into bells and stew-kettles, and thus applied to useful
purposes. The settlement was orderly, the meetings were prosperous, and
things went well among them for some time. But one year they had a pleasant
spring; there was no late frost, and the peach crop hit exactly. I do suppose,
my brethren, that such a crop of peaches was never known before. The old
folks ate all they could eat, the children ate all they could eat, the
pigs ate all they could eat, and the sisters preserved all they could preserve,
and still the limbs of the trees were bending and breaking. One Sunday,
when the brethren met for worship, they gathered round outside of the meeting-house,
and got to talking about their worldly business -- as you know people sometimes
do, and it is a mighty bad practice -- and one said to another, 'Brother,
how is the peach crop with you this year?' 'O,' said he, 'you never saw
the like; they are rotting on the ground under the trees; I don't know
what to do with them.' 'How would it do,' said one, 'to still them? The
peaches will go to waste, but the brandy will keep; and it is very good
in certain cases, if not used to excess.' 'I should like to know,' said
a cute brother, 'how you could make brandy without stills?' 'That's nothing,'
replied one, 'for our class-leader -- brother Alexander -- is as good a
still-maker as need be, and brother Hymeneus is another, and, rather than
see the fruit wasted, no doubt they would make us a few.' The next thing
heard on the subject was a hammering in the class-leader's shop; and soon
the stills in every brother's orchard were smoking, and the liquid poison
streaming. When one called on another the bottle was brought out, with
the remark, 'I want you to taste my new brandy; I think it is pretty good.'
The guest, after tasting once, was urged to repeat, when, smacking his
lips, he would reply, 'Well, it's tolerable; but I wish you would come
over and taste mine; I think mine is a little better.' So they tested and
tasted till many of them got about half drunk, and I don't know but three
quarters. Then the very devil was raised among them; the society was all
in an uproar, and Paul was sent for to come and settle the difficulty.
At first it was difficult to find sober, disinterested ones enough to try
the guilty; but finally he got his committee formed; and the first one
he brought to account was Alexander, who pleaded not guilty. He declared
that he had not tasted, bought, sold, or distilled a drop of brandy. 'But,'
said Paul, 'you made the stills, otherwise there could have been no liquor
made; and if no liquor, no one could have been intoxicated.' So they expelled
him first, then Hymeneus next, and went on for compliment, till the society
was relieved of all still-makers, distillers, dram-sellers, and dram-drinkers,
and peace was once more restored. Paul says, 'Holding faith and a good
conscience; which some having put away, concerning faith have made shipwreck;
of whom is Hymeneus and Alexander; whom I have delivered unto Satan, that
they may learn not to blaspheme.'
"Of course they flew off the
handle, and joined the Schismatics.
"Now, in view of the peculiar
structure of brother Axley's mind, and his characteristic habits of thought
and expression, they who were best acquainted with him will be most likely
to admit that the above outline may be substantially correct. I was anxious
to have learned more items of the history of that good man; but at my next
visit to Holston conference, in 1840, I had left me only the mournful pleasure
of visiting his grave, in a rural cemetery, which, at that time, was without
inscription or inclosure. If some one of our senior brethren, better acquainted
with the subject of this brief notice than the writer, would favor the
public with a reliable biography, and thereby rescue the name of James
Axley from oblivion, he would confer a lasting benefit on the Church and
the numerous friends of the deceased. Whatever is to be rescued from oblivion
concerning the early pioneers of Methodism must be soon done." To
the personal reminiscences of the Bishop might be added others by those
who knew Axley, and were privileged to wait on his ministry. In the autobiography
of Samuel Williams, Esq., we find the following:
"The name of James Axley was
rendered familiar to us by being carved by himself during the sitting of
the conference of 1807, on the back of the seat in front of the one in
which we usually sat, in the little, old brick chapel. Our recollection
of his person is rather indistinct; but we think he was tall and raw-boned,
and a little awkward in his manners and movements. In the matter and delivery
of his discourses there was a marked originality, a vein of humor, and
even drollery, which, while it interested and frequently amused his hearers,
often gave severe point and directness to his rebukes. He was, nevertheless,
a preacher of very respectable talents and undoubted piety. And if he was
not a 'polished shaft ' in the quiver of the Almighty, yet the arrow was
none the less sharp and keen. We have heard many anecdotes of his sayings
and doings. The following, related to us about thirty years ago by the
Rev. John Collins, we give the reader as a specimen:
"In one of his discourses Mr.
Axley was descanting upon conformity to the world among Christians, particularly
in fashionable dress and manners. To meet the pleas and excuses usually
set up in behalf of these departures from the good old way, he held a sort
of colloquy with an imaginary apologist, seated at the further end of the
congregation, whose supposed pleas and excuses he would state on behalf
of his man of straw, in an altered tone; then resuming his natural voice,
he would reply and demolish the arguments of his opponent. After thus discussing
the subject for some time, the opponent was made to say. "But, sir,
some of your Methodist preachers themselves dress in fashionable style,
and in air and manner enact the dandy."
"O no, my friend, that can not
be. Methodist preachers know their calling better. They are men of more
sense than that, and would not stoop so low as to disgrace themselves and
the sacred office they hold by such gross inconsistency of character."
"Well, sir, if you won't take
my word for it, just look at those young preachers in the pulpit, behind
you."
Mr. Axley, turning immediately
around, with seeming surprise, and facing two or three rather fashionably
dressed junior preachers seated in the rear of the pulpit, he surveyed
each of them from head to foot for two or three minutes, while they quailed
under the withering glance of his keen and penetrating eye; then turning
again to the congregation, and leaning a little forward over the front
of the desk, with his arm extended, and his eyes as if fixed on the apologist
at the farther end of the church, he said, in a subdued tone, yet distinctly
enough to be heard by all present, "If you please, sir, we'll drop the
subject!"
"Although the following additional
anecdote of Mr. Axley may be familiar to many of our readers, we hope they
will pardon us for inserting it, as it is worthy of a more durable record
than the columns of a newspaper, from which we clip it. The late Judge
Hugh L. White, who relates it, was a learned and able jurist and distinguished
statesman, and for many years a conspicuous member of the United States
senate from the state of Tennessee. "On a certain day a number of lawyers
and literary men were together in the town of Knoxville, Tennessee, and
the conversation turned on preachers and preaching. One and another had
expressed his opinion of the performances of this and that pulpit orator,
when at length Judge White spoke up:
'Well, gentlemen, on this subject
each man is, of course, entitled to his own opinion; but I must confess
that father Axley brought me to a sense of my evil deeds, at least a portion
of them, more effectually than any preacher I ever heard.' "At this, every
eye and ear was turned, for Judge White was never known to speak lightly
on religious subjects, and, moreover, was habitually cautious and respectful
in his remarks about religious men. The company now expressed the most
urgent desire that the Judge should give the particulars, and expectation
stood on tiptoe.
"'I went up,' said the Judge,
'one evening to the Methodist church. A sermon was preached by a clergyman
with whom I was not acquainted, but father Axley was in the pulpit. At
the close of the sermon he arose and said to the congregation, "I am not
going to detain you by delivering an exhortation; I have risen merely to
administer a rebuke for improper conduct, which I have observed here tonight."
This, of course, waked up the entire assembly, and the stillness was profound,
while Axley stood and looked for several seconds over the congregation.
Then stretching out his large, long arm, and pointing with his finger steadily
in one direction, he said, "Now, I calculate that those two young men,
who were talking in that corner of the house while the brother was preaching,
think that I am going to talk about them. Well, it is true, it looks very
bad, when well-dressed young men, who you would suppose, from their appearance,
belonged to some respectable family, come to the house of God, and instead
of reverencing the majesty of Him that dwelleth therein, or attending to
the message of his everlasting love, get together in one corner of the
house" -- his finger all the time pointing as steady and straight as the
aim of a rifleman -- "and there, during the whole solemn service, keep
talking, tittering, laughing, and giggling, thus annoying the minister,
disturbing the congregation, and sinning against God. I'm sorry for the
young men. I'm sorry for their parents. I'm sorry they have done so tonight.
I hope they will never do so again. But, however, that's not the thing
I was going to talk about. It is another matter, so important that I thought
it would be wrong to suffer the congregation to depart without administering
a suitable rebuke. Now," said he, stretching out his huge arm, and pointing
in another direction, "perhaps that man who was asleep on the bench out
there, while the brother was preaching, thinks I am going to talk about
him. Well, I must confess it looks very bad for a man to come into a worshipping
assembly, and, instead of taking a seat like others, and listening to the
blessed Gospel, carelessly stretching himself out on a bench, and going
to sleep. It is not only a proof of great insensibility with regard to
the obligations which we owe to our Creator and Redeemer, but it shows
a want of genteel breeding. It shows that the poor man has been so unfortunate
in his bringing up as not to have been taught good manners. He don't know
what is polite and respectful in a worshipping assembly among whom he comes
to mingle. I'm sorry for the poor man. I'm sorry for the family to which
he belongs. I'm sorry he did not know better. I hope he will never do so
again. But, however, this was not what I was going to talk about." Thus
father Axley went on, for some time, "boxing the compass," hitting a number
of persons and things that he was not going to talk about, and hitting
hard, till the attention and curiosity if the audience were raised to their
highest pitch, when finally he remarked: "The thing of which I was going
to talk was chewing tobacco. Now, I do hope, when any gentleman comes to
church who can't keep from using tobacco during the hours of worship, that
he will just take his hat and use it for a spit-box. You all know we are
Methodists. You all know that our custom is to kneel when we pray. Now
any gentleman may see, in a moment, how exceedingly inconvenient it must
be for a well-dressed Methodist lady to be compelled to kneel down in a
puddle of tobacco spit."
"Now," said Judge White, "at
this time I had in my mouth an uncommonly large quid of tobacco. Axley's
singular manner and train of remark strongly arrested my attention. While
he was stirring to the right and left, hitting those "things" that he was
not going to talk about, my curiosity was busy to find out what he could
be aiming at. I was chewing and spitting my large quid with uncommon rapidity,
and looking up at the preacher to catch every word and every gesture --
when at last he pounced upon the tobacco, behold, there I had a great puddle
of tobacco spit! I quietly slipped the quid out of my mouth, and dashed
it as far as I could under the seats, resolved never again to be found
chewing tobacco in the Methodist church.'"
Axley must have been a thorough
student of human nature, as was generally the case with the Methodist preachers
of that day. Men whose profession calls them to travel in all sections
of the country, and mingle with all classes of society, as Methodist preachers
have to do, must be dull students and stupid observers of men and things,
if they don't become thoroughly acquainted with men's hearts and lives.
What the eccentric Axley learned in the wide field of labor before him
he put to good account, and thus gave evidence that he was not like the
sage of olden time, who mingled with the world only to learn its follies
and then retired to his cell alone to weep over them.
* * * * * * *
Axley was born at New River,
VA in 1776. His family moved to Kentucky while he was still a child.
As he grew into an adult, he became a hunter and farmer. He became
a Methodist in 1802 and entered the ministry in 1804. He served in
Tennessee, Ohio, the Holston Mountains, Opelousas (LA), Holston again,
the Wabash District (IN), Holston a third time, the Green River District
(KY), and the French Broad district (NC). He located in 1822 near
Madisonville, TN and passed away in 1838.
From: "History of the Methodist Episcopal Church,"
Vol. IV., by Abel Stevens
His pulpit talents were not above mediocrity,
his manners utterly unpolished; but he combined with profound piety and
much tender sensibility the shrewdest sense, an astonishing aptness of
speech, and an exhaustless humor. The latter, however, was usually so well
directed that it seemed wisdom itself; arrayed in smiles. Few, if any,
of his contemporaries drew larger audiences, for Axley was irresistible
to the western people. A bishop of the Church has given us our fullest
record of him. "His person was imposing. He was perhaps five feet eight
inches high, not corpulent, but very broad and compactly built, formed
for strength; his step was firm, his face was square, complexion dark,
eyebrows heavy, appearance rugged, and he dressed in the costume of our
fathers, with straight-breasted coat, and broad-brimmed hat projecting
over a sedate countenance. His widespread fame as a natural genius without
any early education, and especially the numerous incidents I had heard
of him as a western pioneer, had excited in me a greater desire for his
personal acquaintance than that of any other living man I had ever seen
except Jacob Gruber. As I neared him I held out my right hand and received
his, when the following salutations were exchanged: 'How are you, Brother
Axley?' 'Who are you?' 'My name is Thomas A. Morris.' Then, surveying me
from head to foot, he replied, 'Upon my word, I think they were hard pushed
for bishop-timber when they got hold of you.' 'That is just what I thought
myself; Brother Axley.' 'Why, you look too young for a bishop.' 'As to
that, I am old enough to know more and do better.' Turning back with me,
we walked to our lodging, being both quartered at the same place. Every
hour that I could redeem from Conference and council business was enlivened
by his quaint but thrilling narratives of his early travels, labors, and
difficulties. He spiced the whole with such apt remarks and consummate
good humor that the attention of the company never faltered. Never was
I better entertained or more instructed with the conversation of a fellow-sojourner
in one week than with his. There were points of singular contrast in his
character. His exterior was rough as a block of granite fresh from
the quarry, and his manner of reproving disorderly persons at popular meetings
over which he presided was said to indicate severity, yet his conscience
was so tender, and his moral sensibility so acute, that a mere suggestion
from a friend that he had erred in any given case would draw from him prompt
acknowledgment, with a shower of tears. In social intercourse he was both
kind and attractive. His conversational talent was of a superior order.
Without classical learning, or much pretension to book knowledge, he was
such a master in practical, everyday affairs, that he could not only delight,
but instruct sages and divines. He was proverbial for his opposition to
slavery and whisky. After he located he supported his family by the labor
of his own hands as a farmer, and was wont to testify, on all proper occasions,
that his logs were rolled, his house raised, and his grain cut without
whisky; and though he had plentiful crops of corn not the first track of
a Negro's foot was ever seen in one of his fields."
Sufficient evidence has heretofore
been given to show that he shared fully the opinions of the western ministry
on the subjects of temperance and slavery. They saw that whisky was becoming
the bane of their rude but grand country, and Axley preached numerous sermons
against the distillation of the "fire-waters." They saw slavery also gradually
invading the fair domain, and threatening to dishonor labor and demoralize
their social life. The strongest men among them arrayed themselves against
it. Not a few intelligent laymen emigrated, like McCormick, beyond the
Ohio, that they might raise their families away from its menacing evils.
"I do not recollect," says Peter Cartwright, "a single Methodist preacher
of that day who justified slavery." Many who could not well remove opposed
the encroaching barbarism sturdily. Quarterly Conferences acted uncompromisingly
against it, and as early as 1808, when all western Methodism was still
comprised in the "Old Western Conference," that body enacted stringent
anti-slavery laws, which were signed on the journals by Bishops Asbury
and McKendree. The latter was at that time a decided abolitionist, as contemporary
documents show.
Axley joined the Conference
at the same time with Parker and Cartwright. To the latter he was of course
a congenial mind. "We were always," says Cartwright, "bosom friends till
he closed his earthly pilgrimage." Cartwright records "an illustration
of Axley's extraordinary faith," which is an equal illustration of the
character of the times and the country. They were at a camp-meeting in
Tennessee, Axley endeavoring to sustain order among a crew of "rowdies"
while Cartwright was preaching. "They actually threatened to lay the cowhide
over him," says the latter. "He replied with great calmness and firmness
that that was not the place for an encounter, and that, if they were really
bent on fighting, they must retire outside the encampment. Immediately
he found himself in the midst of a crowd there. Axley remarked that he
could not possibly go into the fight until he had prayed, and instantly
knelt down. He poured forth his heart in a strain of uncommon fervor; the
base fellows themselves were actually disarmed, and such an impression
of reverence and solemnity came over them that they at once abandoned their
impious design, and behaved themselves with perfect decorum. On the Monday
following he preached a sermon, under which several of them were melted
into tears. When the awakened came forward for the prayers of the Church
there were found among them a number of these persons, and, before the
meeting closed,some of them professed to have become new creatures in Christ
Jesus."
His opposition to spirituous
liquors led him to introduce into the General Conference of 1812 a resolution
against their use by Church members. It failed; but he repeated the effort
in 1816. Many in the Conference opposed him, making merry with his quaint
speeches. "He turned his face to the wall and wept," says Laban Clark,
who joined him in the measure. He persisted, however; and at last triumphed.
"I remember," says Clark, "particularly on the first occasion of my meeting
him, Axley made rather a strange and grotesque appearance. He wore a short
cloak, and a round Quaker hat, and, as he rode on horseback, made a figure
which could hardly fail to arrest the attention of all the passers by.
To the boys who ran after him in the street he turned round and said, 'Go
along, aint you ashamed of yourselves?' which only made them 'hurrah' the
more boisterously. He was evidently a man of great native power, was social
and pleasant, and always left the impression that he was living under the
influence of the powers of the world to come."
* * * * * * *
According to the Cyclopedia of Methodism
by Matthew Simpson
AXLEY, James, entered the traveling
connection in 1804, and, after having spent nineteen years in the active
ministry, he located in 1823. As a local preacher he was remarkably diligent
and useful. He was an earnest, devoted, and successful minister, with but
little culture and with marked eccentricities.
* * * * * * *
The following is a recollection of Axley from Peter Cartwright's
autobiography.
This year brother Axley, while
I was on the Scioto circuit came over to see me, and he preached for me
in Chillicothe. The Governor and his amiable wife were much delighted with
brother Axley. The Governor's house was the preacher's home, and we went
there. The Governor was easily excited, and he had not entire command of
his risibilities. Sister Tiffin had great command of herself. She could
control the muscles of her face, and look stern when she pleased.
They had no children; but they had a very nice little lap-dog. We were
called from the parlor to supper, and among other eatables they had fried
chicken, and tea and coffee. Sister Tiffin asked brother Axley if he would
have some of the chicken. He said, yes, he was very fond of it. She helped
him to some; it was a leg unjointed. Brother Axley never offered to cut
the flesh off of it, but took it in his fingers and ate it in that way;
and when he had got the flesh from the bone, he turned round and whistled
for the little lap-dog, and threw the bone down on the carpet. I saw the
Governor was excited to laughter, but suppressed it. I cast an eye at sister
Tiffin; she frowned, and shook her head at me, as much as to say, "Do not
laugh." This passed off tolerably well. It was the custom in those
days to eat awhile before the tea and coffee were dished out. Said sister
Tiffin to brother Axley, "Will you have a cup of tea or coffee?" He asked
her if she had any milk. She answered," Yes." "Well, sister," said he,"
give me some milk, for they have nearly scalded my stomach with tea and
coffee, and I don't like it." I really thought the Governor would burst
out into loud laughter, but he suppressed it; and I thought I must leave
the table to laugh; but casting my eyes again at sister Tiffin, she frowned
and shook her head at me, which helped me very much.
When we went up to bed, said
I, "Brother Axley, you surely are the most uncultivated creature I ever
saw. Will you never learn any manners?"
Said he, "What have I done?"
"Done!" said I; "you gnawed
the meat off of your chicken, holding it in your fingers; then whistled
up the dog, and threw your bone down on the carpet; and more than this,
you talked right at the Governor's table, and in the presence of sister
Tiffin, about scalding your stomach with tea and coffee." He burst into
tears, and said, "Why did you not tell me better? I didn't know any better."
Next morning, when we awoke,
he looked up and saw the plastering of the room all round. "Well," said
he, "when I go home I will tell my people that I slept in the governor's
house, and it
was a stone house too, and plastered at that."
Having been raised almost in
a cane-brake, and never been accustomed to see any thing but log-cabins,
it was a great thing for him to behold a good house and sleep in a plastered
room. But I tell you, my readers, he was a great and good minister of Jesus
Christ. He often said a preacher that was good and true had a trinity of
devils to fight; namely, superfluous dress, whisky, and slavery; and he
seldom ever preached but he shared it to all three of these evils, like
a man of God.
Brother Axley entered the traveling
connection in 1804, traveled nineteen years, and in 1823 located. He was
remarkably useful as a local preacher. He was industrious and economical,
lived neat and comfortable, but, by going security for a friend, he lost
nearly all his property. The church helped him some; but he never recovered
his former easy and comfortable circumstances, and died in comparative
poverty.
* * * * * * *
Part 6
MATERIAL ABOUT JAMES AXLEY
From, "William McKendree, a Biographical Study"
By E. E. Hoss
James Axley, who never missed
a chance to hit whiskey or slavery, again moved "that no stationed or local
preacher shall retail spirituous or malt liquor without forfeiting his
ministerial character among us." That the Conference should have dilly-dallied
with this motion for some time and should finally have voted it down is
a piece of history in which no Methodist can glory. In fact if it were
not narrated in full in the Journal, one would be tempted to say that it
never happened. Axley was thoroughly disgusted with the whole performance,
but not discouraged. He was in the war to the finish, and no defeat in
a preliminary skirmish could cause him to lose heart or to cease his efforts
against the liquor traffic. As a kind of offset to its action the
Conference in its pastoral address made the following deliverance: "It
is with regret that we have seen the use of ardent spirits, dram-drinking,
etc., so common among the Methodists. We have endeavored to suppress the
practice by our example, but it is necessary that we add precept to example;
and we really think it not consistent with the character of a Christian
to be immersed in the practice of distilling or retailing an article so
destructive to the morals of society, and we do earnestly recommend the
Annual Conferences and our people to join with us in making a firm and
constant stand against an evil which has ruined thousands both in time
and in eternity." That sounds well, but was altogether too mild a measure
to meet the exigency...
Among other items of business
transacted was one instructing the bishops to prescribe a course of study
for undergraduates in the ministry. The course when it appeared covered
only two years and was rather scant. It was due chiefly to the wisdom of
John Emory that it was later enlarged and extended to four years. James
Axley, grim and resolute, got the floor once more with his resolution prohibiting
traveling or local preachers from engaging in the distillation or sale
of whiskey and other liquors and had the satisfaction of seeing it passed.
The journal shows, however, that there were some members of the Conference
who still thought it too radical.
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