Ohio History Journal

92                                                     OHIO HISTORY

The church for its part guaranteed every itinerant a circuit, its limits occa-

sionally well established, but on the fluid frontier it was more often ill-

defined, compelling the circuit rider to find many of his preaching points.

Benjamin Young's assigned "circuit" in 1803 later became the state of

Illinois.¹ Circuits were not measured in miles but in the time required to

visit the ten, twenty, or thirty preaching points. Usually traveling in pairs as

junior and senior, the itinerants received a one-year appointment from the

annual conference to a roughly drawn circuit which in succeeding years,

through population increase and the successful labors of its preachers, might

constitute two or three circuits. Occasionally an itinerant rode the same area

a second year; few enjoyed a three-year tenure. Convinced that no minister,

including himself, possessed sufficient talent to serve a church more than one

year without preaching "myself and most of my congregation asleep,"² John

Wesley successfully thwarted every move to turn his itinerants into settled

parsons.

Happily for American Methodism, Francis Asbury, the first bishop, trans-

planted the Wesleyan concept of the itinerancy to the New World, powered

it with a hearty band of circuit riders, and enforced a rigid, militaristic code,

requiring preachers of every rank to carry the gospel to all frontiersmen in

or near the confines of their assigned areas. As villages sprang up along the

frontier and churches acquired sufficient wealth and strength to support a

full-time pastor, a few fortunate clerics managed to pause temporarily at a

"station," but all considered themselves traveling preachers, expected to take

their turns in riding the circuits, and generally resigned themselves to an

earthly condition approaching perpetual motion.³ A close study of the

itinerant plan--its potential rewards, its political temperament,⁴ and its

inevitable hardships--furnishes an image of the circuit rider, one eye on this

world and one on the next, often torn between his drive for personal power

and his yearning for selfless service, and provides as well a rationale for the

phenomenal growth of Methodism on the frontier.5

The annual conferences, totaling nine when the Ohio Conference first met

in 1812,6 usually consisted of three to six districts, each subdivided into an

unlimited number of circuits, ranging from five to twenty. Meeting at the

annual conference for a week, the circuit riders presented their membership

and financial statements, submitted their characters to the scrutiny of their

brethren, listened to their most eloquent pulpit orators, subdivided and reor-

ganized the districts and circuits, and formulated plans to capture additional

territory and membership for the church. The conference adjourned on a

climactic note after the bishop assigned each preacher to a circuit and a

94                                                   OHIO HISTORY

The circuit itself was almost as intricately planned as the larger over-all

church organization. As Stewart and Beacham traveled the Muskingum Cir-

cuit, they were not limited to twenty-five stops, but searched out every new

settlement for persons who leaned in the Methodist direction, seemed without

ministerial care, or accidentally crossed their path. Invariably, the circuit

rider concluded his sermon with an exhortation to those wishing "to flee from

the wrath to come" to remain for the organization of a class, the basic unit

in the local church. After hearing the church rules, all who wanted to try

and be tried by the Methodists were formed into a class under the leadership

of the most pious, energetic member. Mitosis often occurred rapidly, classes

dividing and sub-dividing until the cells thus formed developed sufficient

magnitude to support a full-time preacher.

The class leader probably held the most important position in the local

society. In addition to presiding over regular class meetings, he visited each

member several times a year, conducted religious exercises in the family

circle, and cross-examined each member on his "state of grace" and his

progress in experimental and practical religion. Indeed, he was regarded

as the pastor of his little flock. An exchange of correspondence between John

Collins, the first Methodist to preach in Cincinnati, and Samuel Williams,

distinguished secretary to Ohio's first governor, Edward Tiffin, and probably

Ohio's leading Methodist layman during the formative period,⁹ illustrates

the significance of the class leader. Outlining the leader's task, Collins urged

Williams "to watch over every member . . . instruct the ignorant, excite the

negligent, confirm the weak, comfort the afflicted, admonish the disorderly."

The compensations to the church and to the individual, Collins assured his

correspondent, compel a constant concern for "every family where our sheep

reside--wait around the death beds of the afflicted, and wipe the falling

tear from the faded cheek of the departing soul--such kind attentions, often

win whole families--When you visit them they meet you with a hearty wel-

come, and when you depart they follow you with gratitude and thanksgiving

--O happy man."10

The society, if moderately large and well established, might have in addi-

tion to the class leader a local preacher or an exhorter, officers constituting

the local as contrasted with the itinerant ministry. The exhorter, often a

former class leader who had demonstrated more than average zeal, piety,

and skill as a public speaker, stood just above the class leader in rank. With

the recommendation and consent of the class, the circuit rider had issued the

man an exhorter's license, perhaps his first step toward the itinerancy. The

local preachers included both recent graduates of the exhorter's school and

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                  95

seasoned circuit riders who for marriage, financial embarrassment, or other

causes were forced to "locate." While only the preachers, local and itinerant,

could take a text, the exhorters could speak on repentance, faith, the love of

God, sin, or any other subject as long as they avoided an interpretation of the

Scriptures.11 Often an exhorter followed the preacher's sermon with a stir-

ring appeal to the mourners and the unconverted, or with a slashing attack

he tongue-lashed the backsliders.

Frequently the local preacher plunged into the wilderness and planted his

family deep within the frontier. By the time the first regular itinerant

arrived, the local preacher had organized a class and had prepared the mem-

bership for admission to the circuit. Such was the case in Ohio when Francis

McCormick, an emigrant from Virginia and Kentucky who had settled near

Milford, organized the first class in the Northwest Territory, and welcomed

John Kobler, the first itinerant to form a circuit in Buckeye territory. Like

many local preachers, McCormick started as a class leader, which he said

"was of great service to me by laying me under greater responsibility to the

Lord and his church." Humbly he confessed his fear that the church had

advanced him beyond his ability. "If I had known the talents necessary to

explain the Scriptures of Eternal Truth, I think I should have objected to

getting a license to preach," and remained an exhorter, he said.¹²

On each visit to the class or society the itinerant in charge of the circuit

examined the character, conduct, and devotion to duty of each class leader,

local preacher, exhorter, and member. Those found guilty of violating the

rules of the church were either reproved or brought to trial, depending on

the nature and frequency of the offense. Members guilty of neglecting class

meetings without just cause were expelled. Each class member in good stand-

ing received a ticket with a space for his name, a printed Bible verse and

perhaps a few lines from a hymn. Only those with an up-to-date ticket were

permitted to attend the class meeting or the even more exclusive church

exercise, the love feast. This testimonial service did for the larger group

what the class meeting accomplished for the smaller. "In the love feast of

those days," wrote a reminiscing circuit rider, "those present told in simple

language the innermost experiences of their hearts and they were almost

always richly blessed."¹³ Efforts to keep the love feast a Methodist affair,

however, became increasingly difficult, prompting the Ohio Conference to

pass motions like the one in 1828 requiring the presiding elders "to furnish

their preachers with love feast tickets," and urging a strict enforcement of

the law.14

Four years later, when James Quinn traveled the Straight Creek Circuit

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                   97

conferences reveal numerous instances of local preachers, exhorters, and

class leaders suffering the fate of James Grant of the Burlington Circuit,

whose "character . . . being called came up & could not pass nor his license

be renewed."¹⁸ At every session the presiding elder asked two questions:

"Are there any appeals? Are there any complaints?" Members or licensed

officers tried for misdemeanors and expelled by their class or society often

appealed their cases.

The social and religious stimulation of the quarterly conference probably

appealed to the average member, and on the frontier, with its limited oppor-

tunities for fellowship, all keenly anticipated a gathering of the faithful at

"Quart'ly Meetin'." As one Ohio preacher put it:

While with venison and turkey,

Johnny cake and pone galore,

People everywhere were ready,

All the circuit folk to feed,

While they never turned a stranger

From the door who came in need.¹⁹

A rare volume by Engelhardt Riemenschneider contains one of the best

quarterly conference descriptions. A lad of twenty when he came to America

in 1835, he was converted by William Nast, the well-known Ohio German

Methodist leader. The young convert began preaching in 1839, was ordained

an elder in the North Ohio Conference in 1842, and five years later received

an appointment as the presiding elder of the North Ohio German District of

the Ohio Conference.²⁰

Describing the excitement of the quarterly conferences, Riemenschneider

remembered them as "real community feasts," and the focal point for mem-

bers widely scattered across the circuit. "The wife and children rode on

horses and the fathers walked beside them. Those who had no horses often

carried the babies in their arms for 18-20 miles." Methodists who lived in

the selected location housed and fed all, and when the regular sleeping quar-

ters were exhausted, the hosts made "Methodist beds . . . by putting straw

on the floor and laying any bedclothes available over it and so everyone had

a place to sleep."

The conference, usually lasting from Saturday afternoon until Monday

morning, opened with a preliminary session, considered as merely a period

of preparation. But since all had been praying for "an outpouring of the

Holy Spirit," wrote Riemenschneider, "there was often a spiritual awakening

in this service that made the faces of those present shine with a holy joy." A

business session intervened, followed with a sermon by the circuit rider or a

98                                                   OHIO HISTORY

local preacher. The inevitable call for penitents closed the sermon, and

around the altar "one heard not only weeping but also the shouts of joy of

the souls newborn." Sunday, however, was the long-awaited day, and at the

morning service the presiding elder was expected to preach his most power-

ful sermon--no twenty or thirty minute homily, but one "full of thought and

of unusual length." Following the sermon the ordained elders served com-

munion and in the afternoon the faithful gathered for the love feast. After

two more services, one on Sunday night, and another on Monday morning,

the faithful departed for their homes, "strengthened by their having assem-

bled together."21

The culmination of the year's activities for all Methodists, but particularly

for the circuit riders, occurred at the annual conference. This meeting pro-

vided the itinerants a welcome opportunity to meet their comrades once

again, to sing and pray together, and to hear the best sermons of their breth-

ren. For men stationed deep in the wilderness this session afforded an

excellent outlet for religious, political, and gregarious drives. Alfred Brun-

son, a circuit rider from the Western Reserve, recalled the jubilant mood of

his normally dour traveling companion at the anticipation of an annual

conference. "I heard him say once, when in such a glee on his way to Con-

ference, that he should weep in loneliness for two weeks after he got home,"

but "was willing to have the dumps for a month . . . for the sake of the

pleasure he enjoyed at one Conference."²² William Simmons agreed, writ-

ing to his father from the Ohio Conference at Mansfield in 1831 about the

"annual refreshing to my Soul. . . . Here my commission appears to be

renewed and I go to my work with renewed vigor.^"23

Although inspiration proved vital, church business, conducted behind

closed doors, constituted the principal purpose of the gathering. Local

preachers, laymen, and those on trial, although permitted to attend the con-

ference during religious services, remained outside in what they "jocosely

called the lower house" during the business sessions.²⁴ The Ohio Conference,

from its inception in 1812, conducted its sessions according to a rudimentary

but adequate set of nineteen parliamentary rules, adopted by the Western

Conference in 1810, and revised by the Ohio in 1840. At an early session

each conference established by vote the "barr of the conference," often "a

line running parallel with the stoves, across the church," describing the legal

area for the transaction of church business.25

Following preliminaries, the conference moved to answer the disciplinary

questions relative to the spiritual and temporal condition of the church and

its ministers. The first twelve questions dealt with the status of each preacher,

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                  99

whether received on trial, admitted to full connection, elected deacon or

elder, located, deceased, or retired. Questions nine, ten, and eleven often

created the greatest excitement, since they concerned the annual inquiry into

each itinerant's character, and the names of those expelled or withdrawn

"from the connection." In a reference to this inquisition an itinerant wrote

in his journal during the Ohio Conference of 1846: "The characters of the

preachers undergo a most rigid scrutiny but they seem to shine like gold tried

in the fire."26

Occasionally, the metal of the circuit rider proved somewhat less precious

than gold, and in these instances the conference either performed the alchemy

or cast the itinerant aside. As we shall observe later, the formal church trial

was one method of removing offenders, but all submitted to an investigation

and those who possessed traits of character or personalities and behavior

unsuitable to the itinerancy, were rejected or relieved. The case of Thomas

Hurd, admitted to full connection in 1842,27 illustrates one of the less harsh

methods of dealing with undesirables. In 1849 Hurd's presiding elder, Jacob

Young, accused the itinerant of being "rash, restless & uneasy about his

quarterage." The proceedings, written in the "shorthand" of the conference

secretary, stated that Hurd "found out that a sister had not paid her quar-

terage, he said he would go and get it. Better not said a friend; her husband

is rather ill natured. Hurd replied if he says anything to me I will Knock

him into a cocked hat." The itinerant had also spoken tactlessly about his

hosts on the circuit. "After having spent a night with a worthy Gentleman,"

Young reported, "he went elsewhere & being asked how he fared, he replyed.

Well, they fed me on Corn bread & Catts ear's." Other conference members

supported Young's judgment, and so on a motion, Thomas Hurd was "lo-

cated," but not expelled from the ministry.²⁸

The Ohio Conference of 1830 tried to force William J. Thompson to retire

as a way of depriving him of a circuit and the opportunity to preach. Bitterly

he expressed his disappointment to one of his friends. "While I was waiting

to hear my appointment from conference," he wrote to James B. Finley,

"my farm rented out, and my shop partly broken up, arangements made to

travle, and nothing to do, but set out after one days notice, I received a line

from my P Elder, I was supurannuated, as the best thing he could do for

me." Suspecting a complaint or plot, he soon discovered some ministerial

members who considered him "so particular about fashions, dress, quar-

terage,... or something, that altho' my preaching was good, I could not get

along among the people." In defense, Thompson asked, "How can a preacher

get along among a fashionable people, while he obeys our discipline . . .

100                                                  OHIO HISTORY

when some of our more popular preachers, will conform to fashions, and

bring a daughter . . . to camp-meeting topped off with seven combs in her

hair? These men can get along," he charged, "while an old fashioned

preacher, who has been labouring, suffering and sacraficing to support

Methodism, ever since they were in their cradles . . . must be sent home."²⁹

Thompson finally won a year's reprieve, receiving an appointment to the

Miami Circuit in 1830, but the following year, like Thomas Hurd, he suf-

fered the fate of the "located."30

Naturally, the doctrines the circuit riders preached enjoyed careful con-

ference scrutiny, and ideas failing to square with the Discipline and the

Articles of Religion prompted an advisory session. In 1846 the Ohio Confer-

ence cautioned William Langarl that "it would be very determental to his

ministerial influence and to the cause of God among us, for him to continue

to preach . . . on the second advent." The conference, therefore, advised him

"to abstain from advancing his favourite views . . . where judicious brethren

. . . advise him against it."³l James Gilruth, esteemed physically as the

strongest circuit rider in Ohio, received similar treatment. Before his con-

version the Lawrence County citizenry feared him. Afterwards, the camp

meeting folk, often distressed by the rowdies whom they quaintly described

in Biblical language as "lewd fellows of a baser sort," welcomed Gilruth

as a counter threat to the toughs.³² Undeterred by Gilruth's physical prowess,

the 1849 Ohio Conference charged him with "desseminating doctrines con-

trary to our first and second articles. . . . For saying that Jesus Christ was

not God. Second, for saying that God was in him and working by him as

he did by Moses as an agent." After long and detailed deliberations, the

conference decided Gilruth's errors were largely semantic, and declared him

"not guilty of actual heresy."³³

Through this experience, however, Gilruth recognized the potential hard-

ships a circuit rider faced while awaiting the final decision. The conference

made no provision for restoring the lost wages of a man placed on trial, so

Gilruth submitted a resolution in 1850, the year he left the Ohio Conference,

that a preacher accused and suspended, but finally acquitted, "be allowed

his Quarterage & other expenses, the same as if he had remained in the

regular work."³⁴

Until 1856 the financial returns offered little stimulus, since all preachers,

from the bishop to the rawest novice, enjoyed the same salary schedule: $100

for single and $200 for married men, plus expenses and a small stipend for

children under fourteen.³⁵ The true salary, however, depended on the gen-

erosity, wealth, and vigor of the circuit, and in 1822 the Ohio Conference

102                                                  OHIO HISTORY

hardly survive on twice as much--even when fully compensated. The confer-

ences understood, however, reluctantly accepting the married and discourag-

ing the single from changing their state. James Quinn, himself a married man

who may have fared better than some of his brethren,³⁹ nevertheless recog-

nized the severe financial torment of his married colleagues. He tried in vain

to persuade Ralph Lotspeich, the weeping prophet,⁴⁰ to "try it a little longer;

trust in the Lord--may be matters will get better; the people will certainly

lay it to heart." But Lotspeich was adamant, declaring that the church would

never in his time support a married preacher, and then turning away, said

Quinn, he "wept, and I wept too, for the same feelings were struggling in

my own breast. We prayed and parted, and I saw his face no more.^"41

Even single preachers, comprising the largest contingent, were susceptible

to financial privation. The ill-fated William O'Conner, a twenty-four-year-

old bachelor, who entered the itinerant ranks in 1840 "in good health and

in debt for my horse," confessed to his presiding elder that at year's end he

had accumulated a $47 debt and had yet to pay for his horse. "The question

now," he wrote, "is how shall I get out of debt and out to the west."⁴² During

his first year he served with two colleagues, but apparently the resources

around their Eaton Circuit were insufficient to support three preachers.

O'Conner's appeal, however, fell on sympathetic ears and the following year

he went to Athens, Ohio, where he must have stabilized his financial position.

At the next conference his wish to go west was fulfilled in his transfer to the

newly formed Texas Conference, but misfortune dogged his trail, and while

riding his first Texas circuit, he was "cut down by the withering influence of

disease."⁴³

Some circuit riders, like Finley's brother John, tortured themselves by

seeking secular means of support.⁴⁴ Those who possessed sufficient education

sometimes supplemented their incomes by teaching. A few left the itinerant

ranks permanently for the teacher's desk; some long enough to recoup losses

suffered on the circuit. One preacher's son described his circuit-riding

father's practices: "His custom was to preach until his pecuniary resources

failed, and then betake himself to school-teaching until his purse was replen-

ished, then to the circuit again.^"45 In his early years on the circuit Alfred

Lorrain also found a measure of financial independence by teaching and

preaching simultaneously. His school salary of four hundred dollars af-

forded him security, but the pittance of less than ninety dollars he received

from the church was the more highly prized. "It was the most beautiful

money I had ever received," said Lorrain. "It looked pure and holy--the

wages of the Lord."⁴⁶

104                                                  OHIO HISTORY

and the following day he "studied Medicine till 9." A few months later he

purchased Robert Thomas' Modern Practice of Medicine for three dollars.⁴⁹

Among James B. Finley's papers is a notebook filled with prescriptions for

all manner of diseases, including "disentory or diareae, constipation, dis-

peptia, acid on the stomach, directions for making the 'best parragoric,' for

Sprains, Rheumatism, sprain on a horses legg, for Chronick deseas of the

Blader, for Collara Morbis, for Dropsey, for collora, anti collora pills, a

salve for cancer," and many others not in his handwriting, indicating that he

systematically collected frontier concoctions, many as frightening as the

maladies they were designed to relieve. His cough medicine consisted of a

handful of hops, a half pound of sugar, and a quarter ounce of cayenne

pepper mixed with a quart of water and boiled down to a pint, strained, and

served by the tablespoonful three times daily.50

Finley's parents had planned a medical career for their son, who did com-

plete his training and was admitted to practice in 1800. In a modest self-

appraisal Finley decided he would have "made a respectable physician for

the times," but the Indians, his dog, and gun held "more charms . . . than

anatomy, surgery, and physiology."⁵¹ Nine years later the irresistible call

to the ministry supplanted the hunter's life and precluded any resumption of

a full-time medical career. His interest in medicine persisted, however, and

in the spring of 1831 he received a ticket of admission to the Cincinnati

Academy of Medicine for their summer lectures and examinations."⁵² On at

least two occasions Finley received offers to collaborate in pharmaceutical

ventures. In 1846 one of his Eaton, Ohio, neighbors wrote enthusiastically

about a medicine he had discovered and would be willing to manufacture for

twenty cents a bottle if Finley and an unnamed "gentleman in Columbus"

would furnish the capital. Apparently each was to share a third of the profits.

The inventor anticipated a favorable outcome, "as you [Finley] are known

all over this Western Country and that would recommend it.^"53 Three years

later an Iowan who had discovered a cure for diarrhea, all kinds of cholera,

fever, ague, chills, and typhoid fever suggested that he, Finley, and a reli-

gious physician might open a shop in Ohio and share the profits from the

sale of his elixir.54 Whether Finley ever supported or profited from the sale

of any potions is not known. Most circuit riders unquestionably considered

any recourse to medicinal cures as supplementary to their prayers for the

infirm and expected no additional remuneration. Any impropriety in the

use of drugs would probably have come to the attention of the Ohio Confer-

ence, as Lemuel Lane discovered in 1817.

Described as an ideal circuit rider with a "constitution like elastic steel,"

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                    105

young Lane entered the Ohio itinerant ranks in 1814. He traveled the barren

stretches of northern Ohio and as far east as the Chetauque Circuit in the

vast Ohio District before receiving an assignment in 1816 to form the first

circuit around Mansfield. He was apparently successful in most respects,

"dreaded no danger," "formed a full four week's circuit," and carried the

Lord's battle even to the barroom in the largest of Mansfield's six log

houses.⁵⁵ Shortly before the Ohio Conference of 1817, Lane's presiding

elder received a letter from William Armstrong of West Union, accusing

the itinerant of selling medicinal nostrums at exorbitant prices, and prescrib-

ing a worthless remedy for Armstrong's sick child. The five dollars Lane

charged for twenty-five packages of a potion he considered "very beneficial

to females for Certain Complaints" struck Armstrong as the height of ingrati-

tude, since he and his wife had entertained Lane for several days and had

even paid his laundry bill.⁵⁶

By the time the Ohio Conference met in Zanesville on September 3, 1817,

Lane had apparently built an undesirable medical reputation and conse-

quently faced a church court on five counts:

1 In practicing Medicine without sufficient knowledge.

2 In violating a statute of the State of Ohio, by administering medicine without

authority.

3 In receiving exorbitant pay for his vegitable preparation, &c after imposing

them on people.

4th In practising the Science of Midwifery without skill.

5th In stubbournly persisting in the above practices after he was admonished &

advised to the contrary by his presiding Elder.

Lane confessed his guilt, begged the conference for clemency, and

"pledged himself to lay aside the Study and practice of Physic entirely also

the Science of Midwifery &c and devote himself entirely to the Work of the

Ministry."⁵⁷ He was continued on trial and remained in the ministry until

1819, when he located and his name disappeared from the published Minutes

of the annual conferences.58

Most circuits did attempt to provide support for their pastors, making it

less necessary for them to seek adventitious employment. A few like the

Burlington Circuit hoped to save their itinerants from embarrassment by

requesting the bishop "to send their Circuit no more preachers than they are

able and willing to support." Moreover, both the Fairfield and Burlington

circuits devised disciplinary machinery to punish classes and class leaders

deficient in their collections. Agreeing, as one of them put it, to "bare with

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                 107

A legitimate source of income, in addition to his "quarterage," was the

commission each preacher received from the sale of religious books, tracts,

and newspapers. Indeed, a solemn duty of every itinerant, inaugurated by

John Wesley and spelled out in detail by the general conference of 1800, was

"to see that his circuit be duly supplied with books." Thus, with saddlebags

bulging, they became in all areas the principal agents and peddlers for all

the publications of the Methodist Book Concern. First organized in 1796 in

Philadelphia and later moved to New York, the publishing house eventually

established a western branch at Cincinnati in 1820 under the direction of

Martin Ruter.⁶¹ Three years later his optimistic note to Samuel Williams

revealed his understanding of the itinerant's role as book agent. "Our

Church has already spread more books in the Western Country than all other

denominations, but," he added hopefully, "this is not half so much as will

be done in future."⁶²

The phenomenal growth of the Western Christian Advocate, the official

organ of western Methodism, published at Cincinnati, confirmed Ruter's

enthusiastic prediction. By 1840, six years after its first issue, the Advocate,

due in large measure to itinerant salesmanship, had become one of the state's

leading periodicals, boasting 15,000 paid subscriptions.⁶³ To assist the cir-

cuit riders in securing new readers, the Methodist Book Concern sent all

preachers the names of current subscribers within the bounds of their circuits.

It further agreed to "allow agents twenty-five cents commission for each sub-

scriber, new or old, who takes the paper a full year, and ten percent on

fractions of a year." On the back of a circular sent to Levi White, the senior

preacher at Eaton, Ohio, were the names of seventy-four subscribers to the

Advocate and seven to Methodism's newest journal, the Ladies Repository.64

For "their trouble" as book salesmen, they were allowed a commission of

"not less than fifteen, nor more than twenty-five per cent., upon the wholesale

price."⁶⁵ Clearly, a circuit rider who peddled books and newspapers dili-

gently could add considerably to his meager salary,⁶⁶ which perhaps inspired

a writer in the Methodist Magazine to predict failure for preachers whose

incentives were pecuniary. "A just suspicion of this motive will destroy your

dignity and usefulness," he warned,67 reminding the itinerant to make his

primary task the winning of souls.68

The conference, fully aware of the sacrifices and hardships of the itiner-

ants and their dependents, established its own social security program.

Indeed, it would be surprising if this meticulously organized church failed,

even in the beginning stages, to care for the needy. As early as 1796 the

general conference established the Chartered Fund, supported by voluntary

108                                                   OHIO HISTORY

gifts, "for the distressed travelling preachers, for the families of travelling

preachers, and for the superannuated, and worn-out preachers, and the wid-

ows and orphans."⁶⁹ The several annual conferences shared in the interest

accumulated in the Chartered Fund, and equally in the profits of the book

concern. Recognizing the need for local action, the Ohio Conference estab-

lished in 1840 the "Preachers' Relief Society," open to any person contribut-

ing one dollar or more annually. The members were further urged to secure

additional funds "in a discreet manner . . . by urging the friends of the

Church and of the Ministry to cherish it with liberal benevolence."⁷⁰ Occa-

sionally a book the conference published helped to swell the account.⁷¹ Other

sources included the "fifth collection,"⁷² and an offering noted regularly in

the journals in some such manner as the following: "The Conference directed

that the collection taken this morning be given into the hands of the Com-

mittee on Necessitous Cases--to appropriate as they may judge best among

those for whom it was collected."⁷³ Then, each year the bishop asked Ques-

tion 14: "What amounts are necessary for the superannuated preachers; and

to make up the deficiencies of those who have not obtained their regular

allowance on the circuits?" In 1841 the answer was $7,812.20. Question 15

followed: "What has been collected on the foregoing accounts, and how has

it been applied?" In the early years all of the collections on each circuit

appeared in the Minutes, but after 1840 only the general sources. To meet

the deficit of 1841 the following collections appeared:

Circuits and stations                                                                               406 32

Am't in the hands of stewards last year                                                   2 12

Collections at sundry places at the Ohio Conference                              108 38

From the Preachers' Relief Society, Ohio Conference                            58 77

Book Concern                                                                                        700

Chartered Fund                                                                                       69

Error, amount not accounted for                                                            5 31

Total                                   $1,349 90

The conference then faced the insoluble problem of dividing $1,349.90

among those who needed $7,812.20. Either through generosity or error they

overspent the income by one cent, and thirty-six persons or families shared

amounts ranging from $70.18 to $7.41.74

Clearly, all circuit riders had to be self-sacrificing, dedicated men to

endure the itinerancy at its best, and a few, like Benjamin Lakin, seemed

almost wholly unconcerned with temporal fortunes. Moreover, in most in-

stances the itinerants seemed to accept their appointments cheerfully, subli-

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                 109

mating most of their worldly ambitions to goals they considered eternal.

Some, however, were sufficiently mortal to slight the tenth commandment

when they observed others with less talent and little more devotion appointed

to the so-called "easier" circuits, perhaps to a new station, or the presiding

eldership and a step toward the episcopacy. The concept held by those who

pictured the church fathers as accepting their appointments without question

or complaint,75 is hardly confirmed in the letters, diaries, and memoirs of

even the most devoted. The shake-up occurring inevitably at the annual con-

ference provided ample grist for the political mill, and an air of excited

expectancy gripped the itinerants during the reading of the answers to the

last question: "Where are the preachers stationed this year?"

Final appointing power lay with the bishop, or, if he were unavailable,

with the presiding elder. All members enjoyed the privilege of applying

persuasion, but when the bishop issued an order to an elder, or an elder to a

deacon, or a deacon to a probationer, the junior in rank was expected, on

threat of disciplinary action, to comply. Thus Francis Jennings' apparent

escape from ecclesiastical punishment, after his refusal to ride his assigned

circuit in 1837, is surprising, but was due perhaps to his excellent excuses

or to his skill in political maneuvering. In a letter to James B. Finley, a

member of the bishop's cabinet, Jennings rationalized his dereliction: poor

health, a "laborious circuit of 23 appointments," and a people who made no

provision for his family. Finally, he accused the conference of treating him

"badly." "I have traveled 5 years. I never flenched. . . . I feel as strong a

desire to travel as I ever did, and to die in the work, but my family holds a

station in my affections, too strong to see them doomed to misery.^"76

While reading the Jennings letter Finley may have recalled his own bitter

experience. At the Ohio Conference of 1812 Bishop Asbury expressed his

willingness to hear any special requests the preachers had concerning their

appointments to particular areas. Finley responded, asking that he receive

an appointment to the western part of Ohio, nearer his home and family. He

had been traveling in east central Ohio. When the bishop read the appoint-

ments, Finley found to his sorrow that he had been transferred a hundred

miles further east. He recovered sufficiently to shout "Amen!" but his heart

was not in the "So be it!" After adjournment, as the chastened novice

headed toward his new circuit, he met Asbury, and could not refrain from

remarking that if the bishop answered prayers so contrarily, he would

receive no more from him. Asbury smiled, Finley remembered, and re-

marked cheerfully, "Well, be a good son in the gospel, James, and all things

will work together for good."⁷⁷

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                 111

large family within the bounds of a circuit his presiding elder had promised

him, but when the bishop read the appointments, Stewart heard his name

called for the Adelphi Circuit, "a move of about one hundred miles, and a

large, rugged four weeks' circuit of twenty-eight appointments." "I was

driven to my wits' end to be reconciled; but," he declared proudly, "I never

had rebelled and I determined to go to my work and not let any body know

that it was not just the work that I desired." He neither asked for nor

received an explanation from his superior, but in subsequent years, as a

member of the bishop's cabinet, he discovered that "circumstances" often

dictated last minute changes. "The system of Methodist Church polity,"

Stewart concluded, "is one of mutual sacrifice."⁸⁰

The sacrifices, however, were often intermixed with political expediency

and deft maneuvering by both laymen and ministers. James E. Gray, in the

biography of his father, indicates that circuit riders sometimes fell victim to

the sins of jealousy and envy, particularly during the reading of the appoint-

ments. His father, Gray was sure, was less susceptible than most, but suffered

on at least one occasion from the ambitions of a colleague. In 1841 the con-

ference assigned Gray to Norwalk, one of the most desirable churches in the

conference, the center of Methodist learning during that period.⁸¹ James

McMahan, one of the first preachers in the Western Reserve, and a politically

powerful member of the conference, "felt aggrieved," according to Gray,

"that father, a young man, should have been promoted over him to the best

appointment." McMahan, therefore, complained in person to the bishop, and

received the coveted charge the following year, while Gray found himself in

a less prestigious post at Ashland.⁸²

William Herr endeavored to secure his appointment to Asbury Station in

Cincinnati by writing a "confidential" letter of application to two of the lead-

ing laymen. Addressing "Brothers Williams and Killrath," the ambitious

preacher suggested that if a change were contemplated, he felt sure his

appointment would be "highly gratifying" to the membership, and he would

esteem as a great favor "any interest you can make in my behalf, by memo-

rializing the Bishop &c. &c.^"83 The reply was circumspect and evasive and

indicated that many were under consideration. Assuring Herr that his name

was in the hopper, they nevertheless felt it unwise to give him "any direct

encouragement."⁸⁴ Herr failed in this endeavor, transferring to Springfield,

while Asbury Lowry won the Cincinnati appointment.⁸⁵

Samuel Clarke also suffered thwarted ambitions because of his undesirable

personality traits and a failure to manage his personal finances. His succes-

sor at Hillsboro, William D. Barrett, wrote to James B. Finley with less than

112                                                 OHIO HISTORY

Christian charity about Clarke's plight. The appointment of S. A. Latta to

the position of presiding elder, Barrett reported, "will be a damper to poor

Sam'l Clarke[.] he has been allmost frantic with the Idea of being a P.E.

He was confident that you would recommend him to the Bishop so I am told

--what a pity greate men should be thus choped off at the knees--I wish

you would write to him and request him to come and pay his debts in this

place, it is doing us much injury & caused me much uneasiness.^"86

A series of letters between James B. Finley and one of his "problem"

preachers, Werter R. Davis, later a founder and leader of Kansas Methodism,

demonstrates the intense, bitter feeling generated by rivalry for the better

circuits and stations. As a recruit with more formal training than most pro-

bationers, Davis attended Kenyon College and held an M.D. degree from

the Ohio Medical College, advantages the Methodist hierarchy sometimes

considered impediments. Admitted on trial in 1835 and to full connection

two years later, the twenty-seven-year-old itinerant, probably a Finley con-

vert, intermixed reminiscence with grievance in a letter to his spiritual father.

"I . . . call to mind the time you, with a skilful hand, sliped the Gospel

harnass upon me . . . when but a beardless boy; the bones [s]carsely hard

within me." Then, revealing the real purpose of his letter, Davis complained

that the harness was now too small. Extending the figure, he went on: "I

have been trying to peale bark with my teeth going on two years; and my

gumbs begin to get sore; I thought that you supposed ... the blind-bridle was

not a good one, and on that account the young horse had become a little

fractious; But that was not what was the matter, the coller was a little to

tite sometime, so I could not pule good."⁸⁷ Subsequent letters indicated the

primary cause of Davis' distress: the quality of his appointments failed to

meet his expectations. Finley offered words of sympathy and praise, but

hastened to remind the young preacher that in Methodism the itinerant ac-

cepted his assignments without question, a practice he had followed for forty

years. "I have gone whare I was sent, without Murmuring, and thought any

place in Gods vineyard was good anough for me. Now it remains for you

young men to step forward."⁸⁸

Davis endorsed the Methodist plan, but still thought a more equitable

distribution a necessity. A few select men, "these pets," enjoy all "the fat

places," he said, while "some of us that have been knawing the bones should

have some of the meat." "But no," he continued, documenting his case,

"there is George C. Crume who out of fourteen appointments has received

nine stations and two of his circuit appointments were at his own request ...

in order to be at home," and "John W. Weekley who has traveled but one

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                  113

circuit I believe for ten years." Joseph M. Trimble, "the Governor['s] Son,"

and the seceders who joined the southern church after the separation in 1844,

enjoyed better appointments than he. "It is this odious cast in the ministry

that I am honestly tangling to get out of, and out of it I must come by the

grace of God, for submit to it I cannot, and will not, and Sir, your generous

heart will not crush me now."⁸⁹

Whether his appointments over the following seven years improved mark-

edly is difficult to determine.⁹⁰ In 1852 Davis once again accused Finley of

treating him unjustly in throwing his influence against Davis' election as a

delegate to the general conference and in his appointment to the presiding

eldership.91 The following year he sought greener pastures in the West,

transferring to the Missouri Conference and a pastorate in St. Louis and

subsequently to the chair of natural science at McKendree College. Five

years later he became the first president of Baker University at Baldwin,

Kansas, a post he held from 1858 to 1862. After the Civil War, in which he

held a colonel's rank in the Sixteenth Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, he returned

to the ministry, serving fourteen years as a presiding elder, and was three

times elected a delegate to the general conference. Perhaps his best claim

to lasting fame was as the father-in-law of the world-renowned and eloquent

Bishop William Alfred Quayle.⁹²

Dissatisfaction with appointments was not confined to the so-called "boys"

in the conference. Even the venerable John Sale, received on trial in 1795

and long considered a "Father" in both the Western and Ohio conferences,

eyed with suspicion the motives of his colleague John Collins, likewise a sire

in the two conferences.93  "I have a very unpleasant lot," Sale wrote Finley

two years before his death, "have had my 3rd Q[uarterly] M[eeting] and

have only reed about $50 in truck trade & money but why should a living

man complain, if I could believe I was sent to that c[ircui]t with a pure

motive I should feel resigned however I might call in question the judgment

of Mr. Collins in that but when I view the Conduct of that man I am aston-

ished that the Bishops thus yield to him and keep him in those stations he

chuses I will say to the injury of the good cause.^"94

Laymen also raised their voices to influence the appointments, even though

they realized, as one put it, "that applications to the Conference for particular

ministers, but seldom receive any consideration."⁹⁵ But judging from the

volume of correspondence and requests James B. Finley received each year,

the laymen were not averse to trying. Few were as colorful in their requests,

however, as Finley's brother John, who wrote from Piqua requesting "a

Boanerges the ensuing year--one who will pass over Jordan, break down

114                                                  OHIO HISTORY

Jericho, climb over the Alps, go through the Straits of Gibralter and Charyb-

dis, quench the violence of fire, raise the dead, put to flight armies of the

aliens, defeat the devil, triumph over darkness, work by the plumb and

square, bring forth Judgment unto victory, and spread light and truth in every

direction."⁹⁶ Most were like the layman who did not want "what the world

calls a great preacher. . . but a plain old fashioned Methodist preacher that

will visit the Brethern and know them when he meets them and generally

'Feed the Flock of Christ.'"⁹⁷ On the other hand, Henry Wilson of Newark

decided that their "situation . . . requires a preacher of some good qualifica-

tions and standing as a speaker."⁹⁸

Occasionally, a group like the nineteen members of the Cermantown stop-

ping point on the Greenville Circuit, wrote to the conference "Fathers &

Brethren" in praise of their pastor and requesting his services for another

year. They admitted that "some . . . find fault with him, & thus they do with

all other men. Some have an idea that his preaching is too loud--some too

plain--some too long, & some object to his fluent & refined language, saying

that it savors of pride. These charges we are willing to let go for what they

are worth, as we find his persecutors, generally among those that are emulous

of his talent." Their preacher, John A. Baughman, was returned for another

year.⁹⁹

Recommendations and condemnations, financial reports and church trials,

retirements and locations, all liberally intermixed with rumors and half

promises helped to raise the conference temperature to feverish levels as the

time neared for the answer to the ultimate question. Observers often at-

tempted to describe this final conference scene, its solemnity sometimes

broken as men watched their fortunes rise or fall. When James V. Watson,

a married itinerant who hoped to remain in southern Indiana, suddenly found

himself headed toward White Pigeon in the Michigan District, he relieved

his frustration by climbing on a chair and shouting at the top of his voice,

"Will anybody tell me where on earth White Pigeon is?"--to which the

bishop replied coolly, "You will find it in Michigan, Brother Watson," and

then continued as if nothing unusual had occurred.¹⁰⁰ An allegorical descrip-

tion in verse entitled "Reading the Appointments," obviously the work of an

itinerant, must have delighted and stirred the risibilities of the most somber

circuit rider as he supplied the real names and places:

I was sitting in a wing slip, close beside the altar rail,

When the Bishop came in softly, with a face serene, but pale

THE FORTUNES OF A CIRCUIT RIDER                                          115

And a silence indescribably pathetic in its power,

Such as might have reigned in Heaven through that "space of half an hour,"

Rested on the whole assembly, as the Bishop rose and said:

"All the business being finished, the appointments will be read."

"Troubled Waters--Nathan Peaceful"--how that saintly face grew red,

How the tears streamed through his fingers as he held his swimming head;

But his wife stooped down and whispered--What sweet message did she bear?

For he turned with face transfigured as upon some mount of prayer.

Swift as thought in highest action, sorrow passed and gladness came

At some wondrous strain of music breaking forth from Jesus name.

"Grand Endeavor--Jonas Laggard"--blessed be the Lord, thought I

They have put that brother Laggard where he has to work or die,

For the church at Grand Endeavor, with its energy and prayer,

Will transform him to a hero or just drive him to despair.

If his trumpet lacks the vigor of the Gospel's charming sound,

They will start a big revival and forget that He's around.¹⁰¹

Just as the conference had opened with an emotional rendition of the hymn,

And are we yet alive,

And see each other's face,

so they often adjourned with another Wesleyan hymn,

And let our bodies part, to different climes repair;

Inseparably joined in heart

The Friends of Jesus are.

Each circuit rider secured his circuit plan, wished his comrades Godspeed,

and plunged into the wilderness "to bear messages of mercy to their dying

fellow-men."¹⁰² Facing him was a new year of forming classes, building

societies, conducting love feasts, quarterly conferences, and camp meetings.

Inevitably many sought out virgin soil, leading the cutting edge of civiliza-

tion, even as did George Callahan, John Kobler, and Robert Manley when

they moved across the Ohio River to plant Methodism       in the Northwest

Territory.

THE AUTHOR: Paul H. Boase is chairman

of the department of speech at Oberlin College.

This is the fourth article of his we have pub-

lished in recent years on the Ohio circuit rider.