Thursday, February 8, 2024

Chapter 1: 1822-1838, An evil too grievous to be borne

In 1822, the simple log structure which had housed James Dickey’s congregation for a decade was replaced by a new building of brick. That same year, the Concord church hosted the first meeting of the Chillicothe Presbytery.

2 Ministers from many of the Presbyterian churches which were scattered across that part of Ohio attended. Among them, James welcomed his brother William, his brother-in-law Samuel Crothers and his friend John Rankin.

3 “Welcome to Concord Church,” James began. He continued: “Brethren, we have much to discuss here today. As the Apostle Paul said long ago, the body of Christ must work together for the common good. And we can do much together to advance our missionary work, but I know that you will all agree with me that there is no more urgent matter before us than the question of slavery.”

4 The Reverend Rankin spoke next and explained his work in Ripley. “We help these poor creatures to escape their bonds,” he told them. “They come to me from the land of Egypt, across the river; and I send them northward to freedom and a better life. Many of you have helped me in this work, but we could all do so much more,” he finished.

5 In fact, Rankin’s home on a bluff above the Ohio River had become the symbol of the Promised Land to many of the fugitive slaves on that muddy river’s southern shore. Adding to that mystique, Reverend Rankin had even added a small lighthouse to his yard in order to light the way to freedom after nightfall.

6 Over the years that followed, a large network developed to move these fugitive slaves northward from Ripley. Sadly, unreconciled to the loss of their “property,” many of their former masters had decided to pursue them across the river and bring them “home.” It was to their advantage, therefore, to move as far away from the land of slavery as possible. In fact, many of them did not stop until they got to Canada.

7 The loft of the Concord Church concealed hundreds of these poor fugitives on their way to Canada over the years that followed. Likewise, Reverend Crother’s church in Greenfield, and Reverend William Dickey’s Church in Bloomingburg assisted many hundreds of former slaves on their way north to freedom. Many years later, this network came to be known as the Underground Railroad.

8 At about the same time, a descendant of the pilgrim John Howland was in the process of founding a new sect of Christianity in Kirtland, Ohio. His name was Joseph Smith, and he had published his Book of Mormon in 1830. Unfortunately, his new church would inspire a great deal of persecution and ultimately make a martyr out of him.

9 In the meantime, however, a female slave’s desire for freedom had intensified since the birth of her son. Eliza Harris worked in Kentucky, but the Ohio River stood as an imposing obstacle to the achievement of her objective. To make matters worse, it was now almost completely frozen - making the venture even more hazardous than it would have been during warmer weather.

10 Even so, a gnawing desperation had welled up within her. “I don’t want him to be a slave,” she explained to the boy’s father. She had to do something, and she would have to do it before the spring planting began when she would almost certainly have to be separated from her young son to work in the fields.

11 She had heard about that light on the bluff. “If’n you can get to that light, you is gwonna be free,” one man had told her.

12 She would have to do it. She decided one night that she simply could not wait any longer. With her son in her arms, she ventured out onto the treacherous ice of the river and carefully picked her way across. The ice groaned and creaked beneath her, and there were numerous places where the water was still open. “If it breaks, we’ll both be drowned,” she thought.

13 Nevertheless, the frightened woman finally made her way to the other side of the river. Out of the darkness on the other shore, hands reached down to help pull them up the steep bank to safety.

14 When the Reverend Rankin heard her harrowing story, he praised God for their safe deliverance from bondage. “You’ll stay here tonight, of course, but it won’t be safe for you to remain here for very long,” he explained. “We’ll send you on north tomorrow night,” he finished.

15 The following evening, Rankin’s son (David) had made the necessary preparations to take Eliza and her baby northward. “Avoid everyone on the road,” his father told him. “Get her to Hillsboro as quickly as possible.”

16 From Hillsboro, Eliza was sent to Greenfield and then on to Bloomingburg. “We will do everything we can to help you,” William Dickey assured her. “We have friends in Columbus where you will be safe.” And so, Eliza and her son continued along the trail until they reached safety and freedom.

17 In the meantime, James Dickey (along with his new wife and children) had relinquished the pulpit at Concord and moved on to Illinois. There, a few miles to the east of the village of Hennepin, he settled in Putnam County and did his best to convince his new congregation to help the people that he referred to as “those poor, oppressed and wretched creatures” to obtain their freedom.

18 Sometime later, Rankin recounted the tale of Eliza’s rescue to one of his friends in Cincinnati. “I have never heard anything like it,” Calvin Stowe admitted. “I must share this story with Harriet this evening.”

19 A few years later, a character based on Eliza appeared in his wife’s famous novel, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. And that book would excite a firestorm all over the nation, North and South. The anti-slavery Presbyterians were more convinced than ever that the institution of slavery was “an evil too grievous to be borne.” 

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