VOLUME 3 — BOOK V — CHAPTER IV
METHODISM IN THE MIDDLE AND NORTHERN STATES, 1792 — 1706

Asbury Itinerating in the Middle and Northern States — His Excessive Labors — His Morbid Temperament — On the Northern Frontier — Garrettson — Governor Van Cortlandt — Further Travels — Paucity of his Journals

On his return from the South and West in 1793 Asbury entered New Jersey early in July, pressed forward in haste, and was holding a conference at Albany in the third week of the month. "We had," he writes, "a melting season among the preachers. Great changes will be made among them from this conference: some will be sent to New Jersey, others to Rhode Island and Massachusetts. The people of Albany roll in wealth. They have no heart to invite any of the servants of God to their houses; unless a great change should take place we shall have no more conferences here. I am tired down with fatigue, and labor under great weakness of body; yet I must haste to Lynn, it may be, to meet trouble. But my days will be short. We hope two hundred souls have been awakened, and as many converted, in Albany District the past year. Our friends are happy here, not being distressed with divisions in the Church, nor by war with the Indians, as they are to the southward."

By the 22d he was in New England, where he spent a month. On the 22d of August he was in New York city, remarking that "Great afflictions prevail here. It is very sickly also in Philadelphia. I have found, by secret search, that I have not preached sanctification as I should have done. If I am restored this shall be my theme more pointedly than ever, God being my helper. I have been sick upward of four months, during which time I have attended to my business, and ridden, I suppose, not less than three thousand miles. The effects of this weather were sensibly felt by every member of Conference, some of whom were so indisposed that they could not attend. We made a collection of forty pounds for the relief of the preachers on the frontiers of New York and Connecticut. We have awful accounts from Philadelphia, which made me feel too much like a man, and too little like a Christian; we nevertheless went forward to confront the pestilence. Friday, September 6, we rode to that city. Ah, how the ways mourn! how low-spirited are the people while making their escape! I found it awful indeed. I judge the people die from fifty to one hundred in a day. Some of our friends are dying, others flying. Sunday, 8, I preached on Isa. lviii, 1: 'Cry aloud, spare not, lift up thy voice like a trumpet, and show my people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob their sins.' The people of this city are alarmed, and well they may be. I went down to Ebenezer, (a church in the lower part of the city,) but my strength was gone; however I endeavored to open and apply Micah vi, 9. The streets are now depopulated, and the city wears a gloomy aspect. All night long my ears and heart were wounded with the cry of fire! O how awful! And what made it still more serious, two young men were killed by the fall of a wall; one of them was a valuable member of our society. Poor Philadelphia! the lofty city, He layeth it low! I am very unwell; my system is quite weak; I feel the want of pure air. We appointed Tuesday 9 to be observed as a day of humiliation. I preached on 1 Kings viii, 37-40, and had a large and weeping congregation. The preachers left the city on Monday; I continued in order to have the Minutes of Conference printed. Wednesday, 11, we left the city solemn as death. The people of Derby and Chester are sickly, and they are greatly alarmed at Wilmington. I found a quiet retreat at friend Bond's, near New Castle." It was thus that he braved the memorable attack of the yellow fever.

Again he flew over his southern route, whither we have followed him, and by the last week of June, 1794, re-entered Philadelphia "weak and heavy in body and mind," after a day's ride of forty miles, preaching the same evening. He passed rapidly by New England, whence he returned to New York by the middle of September, and opened the Conference on the twenty-second. "Several of our preachers," he writes, "want to know what they shall do when they grow old. I might also ask, What shall I do? Perhaps many of them will not live to grow old. Tuesday, 23, I preached with liberty; but on Thursday night I had a powerful temptation before I went into the church, which sat so heavily on me that I could not preach; yet I trust I was kept from sin. My sleep is so little that my head becomes dizzy, and distresses me much. Four hours' sleep in the night is as much as I can obtain. We concluded our work, and observed Friday as a day of abstinence and prayer, and had a good time at our love-feast. Sunday, 28, preached at ten o'clock at Brooklyn; in the afternoon at the new church, [Forsyth Street, New York,] on 'Woe to them that are at ease in Zion!' I ordained seven deacons and five elders, and in the evening, at the old church, [John Street,] I preached again. We had the best time at the last, at least it was so to me. All day I was straitened in my throat, and in my heart. We collected two hundred and fifty dollars for the relief of the preachers. This has been a serious week to me; money could not purchase the labor I have gone through."

On Sunday, October 5, he was preaching three times in Philadelphia, and holding a Conference the next day; but before the week closed he was away again southward and westward, to the Carolinas and Tennessee. In June, 1795, we find him again in Philadelphia, and on "Sunday, 21st," he says, "I preached in the city three times, not with the success I would wish. I was exceedingly assisted in meeting the classes, in which I spent three days, and am now of opinion that there is more religion among the society than I expected. I trust both they and myself will remember this visit for days to come. I was also much quickened in meeting the local preachers and leaders, who spoke feelingly of the state of their souls and the work of God. I now go hence to meet new troubles, and to labor while feeble life shall last. Monday, 29, I came to New York. I began meeting the women's classes, and felt happy. I met the official members of the society, and had some close talk on the doctrine and discipline of the Church. Sunday, 5, I preached in Brooklyn, and returned to assist in the sacrament in the afternoon at the new church. I then met the black classes, and preached at half past six. I closed my day's work by meeting two men's classes. Monday, 6, I met nine classes, so that I have now spoken to most of the members here one by one. I left the city in peace, and received of their bounty toward bearing my expenses."

Thus we get but mere glimpses of his episcopal pastorate from these meager journals; their citation would seem a waste of paper were it not that they reveal so much, though so indirectly, the tireless man and the apostolic bishop. Wherever he delayed long enough, he performed faithfully this minute pastoral labor.

Again he departs to the Eastern states, ranging through Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Vermont. He reentered the state of New York in the latter part of August, near the northern frontier, and passed rapidly along, holding rustic meetings among the scattered population; for Methodism, as we have seen, had for some time been breaking into these remote wildernesses, chiefly under the leadership of Garrettson; and Asbury, ever regardful of its interests where they were most critical, penetrated to the farthest tracks of his pioneer itinerants; hence his incessant return to the extreme South, to the ultra-Allegheny frontiers, to New England, and, before long, to the wilds of Upper Canada. In these journeys he must necessarily cross and recross the more settled central fields of the Church, and these he inspects, as we have noticed, with the minutest care, laboring as hard among them as their local pastors; but his records lose here much of their interest; they present little more than the briefest allusions, mere memoranda. He longed for the woods, the mountains, the excitements and hardships of the frontier. It is the fate of energetic men to be restless, to be unhappy without movement and achievement: the cause perhaps, and, in part, the effect of their activity. Asbury was constitutionally melancholy; unconscious, he often writes, "of any sin even in thought," yet in grievous dejection. No medical scholar can fail to observe in his journals, from beginning to end, and especially about this time, a profoundly morbid temperament. There is now scarcely a page in which we do not witness the heroic struggle of his invincible will with this formidable physical drawback. And the evil grows as he advances in life. He mentions, oftener than ever, his inward conflicts, alternations of joy and sadness, of mental freedom and oppression in the pulpit. He at last perceives the fact that his melancholy is "constitutional," and will end only with his life. This brave struggle with an unconquerable physical evil enhances inexpressibly the greatness of his character and of his unparalleled life. He had not, however, the sagacity or scientific knowledge to perceive that his excessive occupation caused much of his sufferings. It may be soberly affirmed that through all his ministerial career he was doing the work of ten if not twenty ordinary men. No human strength is adequate to such labors as his — journeys on horseback over the worst roads, thirty, forty, fifty miles a day, with almost daily preaching, class-leading, visits from house to house, frequent and laborious sessions of conferences, a correspondence of a thousand letters yearly, for most of the year the poorest fare of log-cabins, with no other luxury than tea, which he always carried with him and often prepared himself beneath a tree, and almost continual sickness, chills, fevers, and rheumatism. Aristotle taught that the vices are the excesses of the virtues. Asbury erred in this respect. His life, effective as it was, might have been more effective if more healthful, physically and mentally. Johnson remarked to Boswell, that to interpret the Scripture command, "be instant in prayer," literally were to abuse it, that no one could thus obey it without becoming a maniac. Asbury, besides his other extreme habits, was almost a literalist in this respect. He usually prayed with families at the close of each meal, at taverns, or wherever else he stopped. He prayed in all his pastoral visits. For years he prayed for each of his preachers by name daily; at every conference he prayed privately over each name on the list of appointments; on his rides he prayed ten minutes each hour, and he records that there were few minutes in the day in which his thoughts were not absorbed in prayer. He fasted every Friday, besides going without food from early morning till late evening several days in almost every week. We cannot wonder then that his life became abnormal; and we cannot but wonder that it was so mighty in spite of that fact. Nor can we be surprised that a tinge of severity, if not moroseness, overspread at times his really generous nature, and somewhat repelled his more diffident associates.

He ranged over the northern region of New York with much of the zest of his western frontier adventures, preaching in log-cabins to multitudes gathered from great distances. "I find," he writes, "some similarity between the northern and western frontiers." On Sunday, the 30th of October, in Hampton Township, (Washington County, where Philip Embury and Barbara Heck had been founding the Church,) he discovered some hearty pioneer Methodists. "We had," he says, "sacrament and love-feast, and many opened their mouths boldly to testify of the goodness and love of the Lord Jesus. The porch, entry, kitchen, and the lodging-rooms were filled. One soul professed conversion. I find that two hours' close meeting flags the minds of God's children." He penetrated to Ashgrove, the seat of Embury's society, and refreshed the little band in a "solemn meeting." We trace him southward rapidly to "Coeyman's Patent," "weary, sick, and faint, after riding thirty-six miles. "We were crowded," he writes, "with people. I suppose we had perhaps a thousand at the stone church at Coeyman's Patent, and felt some life and warmth among them. On Sunday, in the morning we had baptism, ordination, sacrament, and love-feast; some spoke with life of the goodness of God. I gave them a discourse at eleven o'clock, and then went to bed with a high fever."

Dr. Roberts, however, was with him from New England, and kept up the labors of the day. On the 12th September they reached the neighborhood of Rhinebeck, and were comforted with the society of Garrettson. "God," he says, "once put into Brother Garrettson's hands great riches of a spiritual nature, and he labored much; if he now does good according to his temporal ability, he will be blessed by the Lord and men."

Garrettson, faithful in his prosperity, was "blessed by the Lord and men." His beautiful home at Rhinebeck often sheltered, in later years, Asbury and his fellow-laborers. The bishop delighted to call it "Travelers' Rest," and could write, "I do believe God dwells in this house." Through Garrettson he became intimate with, and exerted a salutary influence over, many distinguished families of the region — the Livingstons, Montgomerys, Sands, Rutsens, Van Cortlandts, and others, among whom were raised up memorable examples of the elder Methodism. Catharine Garrettson, a daughter of the Livingston family, was one of those elect "women of Methodism" who ministered to the bishop, like Mary and Martha to his divine Master, from Rhinebeck's "Travelers' Rest" to Perry Hall in Maryland, Rembert Hall in South Carolina, and Russell's mansion among the Holston Heights. He preached at Rhinebeck, but hastened on with Roberts. "We stopped," he says, "at Governor Van Cortlandt's, who reminds me of General Russell. We had all we needed, and abundantly more than we desired. Rest, rest, how sweet! yet how often in labor I rest, and in rest labor! Sunday, 20, I had a comfortable time at Croton Chapel, on Rom. i, 16. I returned to General Van Cortlandt's, and dined with my dear aged friends. Shall we ever meet again?"

The name of the good governor occurs often in the bishop's journals. He was a hearty Methodist, very rich, inheriting much of the old Cortlandt manor, and lived in a spacious mansion near the mouth of the Croton river. It was the home of many of the primitive itinerants, and had entertained Washington, La Fayette, Franklin, and Whitefield; the latter had preached from its portico to vast throngs. The governor's influence was an important aid to Methodism. He was the first lieutenant-governor of the state, was eighteen times elected to the office, and was president of the convention which formed the state constitution. He gave land for a Methodist church and cemetery, and died, as his epitaph says, "a bright witness of that perfect love which casteth out the fear of death." [1]

"We came," continues the bishop, "to Fisher's, near the White Plains chapel, to hold Conference. My soul is kept solemn, and I feel as if earth were nothing to me; I am happy in God, and not perplexed with the things of this world. Tuesday, 22, a few of us met in Conference, the main body of the preachers not coming in until about twelve o'clock. We went through the business of the session in three days, forty-three preachers being present. I was greatly disappointed in not hearing the preachers give a full and free account of themselves and circuits. Although we sat ten hours in each day, we did not close our business until Thursday evening, after sitting each night till twelve o'clock."

In the first week of October he was again holding a Conference in Philadelphia. "We went on," he writes, "with great peace, love, and deliberation, but were rather irregular, owing to some preachers not coming in until the third or fourth day. We made better stations than could be expected, extending from Northampton, in Virginia, to the Seneca Lake. Friday, 9, we observed as a day of fasting and prayer. I preached at eleven o'clock on Joel ii, 15-17. Saturday, 10, our Conference rose. Sunday, 11, I preached in the morning at the African church, in the afternoon at Ebenezer, and in the evening at St. George's, where, to my surprise, the galleries were filled. I applied, 'Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men.' I had work enough, being often compelled to digress to call the attention of the wild people."

After another tour over the South and West he entered Pennsylvania, west of the mountains, in the first week in June, 1796, and held a Conference at Uniontown, where the pioneer evangelists of the Monongahela, the Allegheny, and the Yohogany greeted him, and by the last week in July we find him again preaching and "meeting classes in the city" of Philadelphia. He prepared a subscription paper for the relief of suffering preachers and their families, and then "hasted with it from house to house." On the 15th of August he rode into New York to repeat the thorough work we have seen him performing there before — in "meeting classes, and visiting from house to house a good deal of the time in the day, and frequently preaching at night." He spent more than two weeks there at this hottest part of the year, "generally walking three or four miles a day, praying ten or twelve times in the congregation, families, and classes," and closing the day with a sermon or a social religious meeting. On one Sunday we find him preaching three times and leading six classes. He ended the visit with a meeting of all the city class-leaders "in close conference," another meeting of the trustees on the same day, and then, "after going hither and thither," preached in the evening. We cannot be surprised that, with such a leader, the ministry and people of early Methodism were kept continually astir. Asbury's own character and example, maintained with unwavering fidelity from the beginning to the end of his episcopal career, afford an obvious solution to the problem of the energy and success of American Methodism. Our chief regret, in following him on his rapid flights over the land, is that the paucity of details in his journals do not admit of more fullness and consistence in the narration of his wondrous life. Such as they are, however, they, or nothing, must be given. They suffice to suggest, at least, his general character, and the continuous extension of the Church.

He passed again into New England, returned to Baltimore, holding Conferences at New York and Philadelphia, and prepared, at Perry Hall, for the next General Conference.

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ENDNOTES

1 Boehm says: "He married Joanna Livingston. They were both pure spirits. Their daughter, Mrs. Van Wick, was a gifted woman, a shouting Methodist, who would exhort with great effect. His daughter, Mrs. Gerard Beekman, was also a Methodist, and her son, Dr. Stephen Beekman, at whose house the Rev. John Summerfield died in New York on June 30, 1825. Bishop Asbury greatly admired the old governor, and said he resembled General Russell of Kentucky, who married the sister of Patrick Henry. The governor, full of years and of honors, died on May 1, 1814, in the ninety-fourth year of his age."

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