Another Camp Meeting

When Sojourner had been at Northampton a few months, she attended another camp-meeting, at which she performed a very important part.

After Sojourner had been in Northampton for a few months, she attended another camp meeting. She played a very important part in it.

A party of wild young men, with no motive but that of entertaining themselves by annoying and injuring the feelings of others, had assembled at the meeting, hooting and yelling, and in various ways interrupting the services, and causing much disturbance. Those who had the charge of the meeting, having tried their persuasive powers in vain, grew impatient and tried threatening.

A group of unruly young men had gathered at the meeting. They had come only to amuse themselves by annoying others and hurting their feelings. They hooted and yelled, interrupted the services in various ways, and caused a great deal of disturbance. The people in charge of the meeting tried in vain to persuade them to stop. They grew impatient and tried threatening them.

The young men, considering themselves insulted, collected their friends, to the number of a hundred or more, dispersed themselves through the grounds, making the most frightful noises, and threatening to fire the tents. It was said the authorities of the meeting sat in grave consultation, decided to have the ring-leaders arrested, and sent for the constable, to the great displeasure of some of the company, who were opposed to such an appeal to force and arms. Be that as it may, Sojourner, seeing great consternation depicted in every countenance, caught the contagion, and, ere she was aware, found herself quaking with fear.

The young men felt insulted and gathered a hundred or more of their friends. They spread out across the grounds, making terrifying noises and threatening to set the tents on fire. It was said that the meeting’s leaders held a serious discussion and decided to have the ringleaders arrested. They sent for the constable, greatly displeasing some of the company who opposed such an appeal to force and arms. Whatever the case, Sojourner saw fear on every face and caught it herself. Before she knew it, she was trembling with fear.

Under the impulse of this sudden emotion, she fled to the most retired corner of a tent, and secreted herself behind a trunk. saying to herself, 'I am the only colored person here, and on me, probably, their wicked mischief will fall first, and perhaps fatally.' But feeling how great was her insecurity even there, as the very tent began to shake from its foundations, she began to soliloquise as follows:-

Overcome by this sudden emotion, she fled to the most secluded corner of a tent and hid behind a trunk. She said to herself, 'I am the only colored person here. Their wicked mischief will probably fall on me first, and perhaps it will be fatal.' But even there, she felt how unsafe she was, as the tent itself began to shake from its foundations. She began to speak to herself as follows:

'Shall I run away and hide from the Devil? Me, a servant of the living God? Have I not faith enough to go out and quell that mob, when I know it is written-"One shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight"? I know there are not a thousand here; and I know I am a servant of the living God. I'll go to the rescue, and the Lord shall go with and protect me.

'Should I run away and hide from the Devil? Me, a servant of the living God? Don't I have enough faith to go out and quiet that mob? I know it is written: "One shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight". I know there aren't a thousand people here. And I know I am a servant of the living God. I'll go to the rescue, and the Lord will go with me and protect me.

'Oh,' said she, 'I felt as if I had three hearts! and that they were so large, my body could hardly hold them!'

'Oh,' she said, 'I felt as if I had three hearts! They were so large that my body could hardly hold them!'

She now came forth from her hiding-place, and invited several to go with her and see what they could do to still the raging of the moral elements. They declined, and considered her wild to think of it.

She now came out of hiding and asked several people to go with her. She wanted to see what they could do to calm the moral storm. They refused, thinking she was wild even to consider it.

The meeting was in the open fields-the full moon shed its saddened light over all-and the woman who was that evening to address them was trembling on the preachers' stand. The noise and confusion were now terrific. Sojourner left the tent alone and unaided, and walking some thirty rods to the top of a small rise of ground, commenced to sing, in her most fervid manner, with all the strength of her most powerful voice, the hymn on the resurrection of Christ-

The meeting was held in an open field. The full moon cast its sorrowful light over everything. The woman who was to address the crowd that evening was trembling on the preachers’ stand. The noise and confusion were now overwhelming. Sojourner left the tent alone and without help. She walked about thirty rods to the top of a small rise. There she began to sing the hymn about Christ’s resurrection, with great passion and the full strength of her powerful voice:

All who have ever heard her sing this hymn will probably remember it as long as they remember her. The hymn, the tune, the style, are each too closely associated with to be easily separated from herself, and when sung in one of her most animated moods, in the open air, with the utmost strength of her most powerful voice, must have been truly thrilling.

All who have heard her sing this hymn will probably remember it as long as they remember her. The hymn, its tune, and her style of singing are each too closely associated with her to be easily separated from her. When she sang it outdoors in one of her most animated moods, using the full strength of her powerful voice, it must have been truly thrilling.

As she commenced to sing, the young men made a rush towards her, and she was immediately encircled by a dense body of the rioters, many of them armed with sticks or clubs as their weapons of defence, if not of attack. As the circle narrowed around her, she ceased singing, and after a short pause, inquired, in a gentle but firm tone, 'Why do you come about me with clubs and sticks? I am not doing harm to any one.' 'We ar'n't a going to hurt you, old woman; we came to hear you sing,' cried many voices, simultaneously. 'Sing to us, old woman,' cries one. 'Talk to us, old woman,' says another. 'Pray, old woman,' says a third. 'Tell us your experience,' says a fourth. 'You stand and smoke so near me, I cannot sing or talk,' she answered.

As she began to sing, the young men rushed toward her. A dense crowd of rioters immediately surrounded her. Many carried sticks or clubs for defense, if not for attack. As the circle closed in around her, she stopped singing. After a short pause, she asked in a gentle but firm voice, 'Why do you come around me with clubs and sticks? I am not harming anyone.' 'We aren't going to hurt you, old woman; we came to hear you sing,' many voices cried at once. 'Sing to us, old woman,' one cried. 'Talk to us, old woman,' said another. 'Pray, old woman,' said a third. 'Tell us your experience,' said a fourth. 'You stand and smoke so close to me, I cannot sing or talk,' she answered.

'Stand back,' said several authoritative voices, with not the most gentle or courteous accompaniments, raising their rude weapons in the air. The crowd suddenly gave back, the circle became larger, as many voices again called for singing, talking, or praying, backed by assurances that no one should be allowed to hurt her-the speakers declaring with an oath, that they would 'knock down ' any person who should offer her the least indignity.

'Stand back,' several commanding voices said, none too gently or politely, as they raised their crude weapons. The crowd suddenly drew back, making the circle larger. Many voices again called for singing, talking, or praying. They assured her that no one would be allowed to hurt her. They swore they would 'knock down' anyone who showed her the slightest disrespect.

She looked about her, and with her usual discrimination, said inwardly-'Here must be many young men in all this assemblage, bearing within them hearts susceptible of good impressions. I will speak to them.' She did speak; they silently heard, and civilly asked her many questions. It seemed to her to be given her at the time to answer them with truth and wisdom beyond herself. Her speech had operated on the roused passions of the mob like oil on agitated waters; they were, as a whole, entirely subdued, and only clamored when she ceased to speak or sing. Those who stood in the back ground, after the circle was enlarged, cried out, 'Sing aloud, old woman, we can't hear.' Those who held the sceptre of power among them requested that she should make a pulpit of a neighboring wagon. She said, 'If I do, they'll overthrow it.' 'No, they sha'n't-he who dares hurt you, we'll knock him down instantly, d-n him,' cried the chiefs. 'No we won't, no we won't, nobody shall hurt you,' answered the many voices of the mob. They kindly assisted her to mount the wagon, from which she spoke and sung to them about an hour. Of all she said to them on the occasion, she remembers only the following:-

She looked around and, with her usual good judgment, thought, 'There must be many young men in this crowd whose hearts are open to good influences. I will speak to them.' She did speak. They listened silently and politely asked her many questions. At the time, she felt she was given truth and wisdom beyond her own to answer them. Her speech calmed the mob's passions like oil on troubled waters. As a whole, they were completely subdued. They only called out when she stopped speaking or singing. After the circle grew larger, those in the back shouted, 'Sing louder, old woman, we can't hear.' The leaders of the mob asked her to use a nearby wagon as a pulpit. She said, 'If I do, they'll overturn it.' 'No, they won't. If anyone dares hurt you, we'll knock him down instantly, damn him,' cried the leaders. 'No we won't, no we won't, nobody shall hurt you,' answered many voices in the mob. They kindly helped her climb onto the wagon. From there, she spoke and sang to them for about an hour. Of everything she said to them that day, she remembers only the following:

'Well, there are two congregations on this ground. It is written that there shall be a separation, and the sheep shall be separated from the goats. The other preachers have the sheep, I have the goats. And I have a few sheep among my goats, but they are very ragged.' This exordium produced great laughter. When she became wearied with talking, she began to cast about her to contrive some way to induce them to disperse. While she paused, they loudly clamored for 'more,' 'more,'-'sing,' 'sing more.' She motioned them to be quiet, and called out to them: 'Children, I have talked and sung to you, as you asked me; and now I have a request to make of you; will you grant it?' 'Yes, yes, yes,' resounded from every quarter. 'Well, it is this,' she answered; 'if I will sing one more hymn for you, will you then go away, and leave us this night in peace?' 'Yes, yes,' came faintly, feebly from a few. 'I repeat it,' says Sojourner, 'and I want an answer from you all, as of one accord. If I will sing you one more, will you go away, and leave us this night in peace?' 'Yes, yes, yes,' shouted many voices, with hearty emphasis. 'I repeat my request once more,' said she, 'and I want you all to answer.' And she reiterated the words again. This time a long, loud 'Yes-yes-yes,' came up, as from the multitudinous mouth of the entire mob. 'AMEN! it is SEALED,' repeated Sojourner, in the deepest and most solemn tones of her powerful and sonorous voice. Its effect ran through the multitude, like an electric shock; and the most of them considered themselves bound by their promise, as they might have failed to do under less imposing circumstances. Some of them began instantly to leave; others said, 'Are we not to have one more hymn?' 'Yes,' answered their entertainer, and she commenced to sing:

'Well, there are two congregations on this ground. It is written that there shall be a separation, and the sheep shall be separated from the goats. The other preachers have the sheep, and I have the goats. I have a few sheep among my goats, but they are very ragged.' This opening brought great laughter. When she grew tired of talking, she began looking for a way to persuade them to leave. While she paused, they shouted, 'more,' 'more,' 'sing,' 'sing more.' She motioned for them to be quiet and called out: 'Children, I have talked and sung to you, as you asked me. Now I have a request to make of you. Will you grant it?' 'Yes, yes, yes,' came from every direction. 'Well, it is this,' she answered. 'If I sing one more hymn for you, will you then go away and leave us in peace tonight?' 'Yes, yes,' came weakly from a few. 'I repeat it,' said Sojourner, 'and I want an answer from all of you, together. If I sing you one more, will you go away and leave us in peace tonight?' 'Yes, yes, yes,' shouted many voices with hearty emphasis. 'I repeat my request once more,' she said, 'and I want you all to answer.' She repeated the words again. This time a long, loud 'Yes, yes, yes,' rose up, as if from the many mouths of the entire mob. 'AMEN! it is SEALED,' Sojourner repeated, in the deepest and most solemn tones of her powerful, resonant voice. The effect passed through the crowd like an electric shock. Most of them felt bound by their promise, though they might not have felt so under less solemn circumstances. Some began to leave at once. Others said, 'Are we not to have one more hymn?' 'Yes,' answered their entertainer, and she began to sing:

While singing, she heard some enforcing obedience to their promise, while a few seemed refusing to abide by it. But before she had quite concluded, she saw them turn from her, and in the course of a few minutes, they were running as fast as they well could in a solid body; and she says she can compare them to nothing but a swarm of bees, so dense was their phalanx, so straight their course, so hurried their march. As they passed with a rush very near the stand of the other preachers, the hearts of the people were smitten with fear, thinking that their entertainer had failed to enchain them longer with her spell, and that they were coming upon them with redoubled and remorseless fury. But they found they were mistaken, and that their fears were groundless; for, before they could well recover from their surprise, every rioter was gone, and not one was left on the grounds, or seen there again during the meeting. Sojourner was informed that as her audience reached the main road, some distance from the tents, a few of the rebellious spirits refused to go on, and proposed returning; but their leaders said, 'No-we have promised to leave-all promised, and we must go, all go, and you shall none of you return again.'

While she sang, she heard some urging the others to keep their promise. A few seemed unwilling to do so. But before she had finished singing, she saw them turn away from her. Within a few minutes, they were running as fast as they could, all together in one group. She says she can compare them to nothing but a swarm of bees. They were packed so tightly together, moving so straight and so quickly. As they rushed past the other preachers’ stand, the people were struck with fear. They thought Sojourner could no longer hold the rioters under her spell. They feared the rioters were coming at them with renewed and merciless fury. But they were mistaken, and their fears were groundless. Before they could recover from their surprise, every rioter was gone. Not one remained on the grounds or was seen there again during the meeting. Sojourner was told that her audience reached the main road, some distance from the tents. There, a few of the rebellious spirits refused to go on and suggested returning. But their leaders said, 'No, we have promised to leave. All promised, and we must go, all go, and none of you may return.'

She did not fall in love at first sight with the Northampton Association, for she arrived there at a time when appearances did not correspond with the ideas of associationists, as they had been spread out in their writings; for their phalanx was a factory, and they were wanting in means to carry out their ideas of beauty and elegance, as they would have done in different circumstances. But she thought she would make an effort to tarry with them one night, though that seemed to her no desirable affair. But as soon as she saw that accomplished, literary, and refined persons were living in that plain and simple manner, and submitting to the labors and privations incident to such an infant institution, she said, 'Well, if these can live here, I can.' Afterwards, she gradually became pleased with, and attached to, the place and the people, as well she might; for it must have been no small thing to have found a home in a 'Community composed of some of the choicest spirits of the age,' where all was characterized by an equality of feeling, a liberty of thought and speech, and a largeness of soul, she could not have before met with, to the same extent, in any of her wanderings.

She did not fall in love with the Northampton Association at first sight. She arrived when its appearance did not match the ideas associationists had laid out in their writings. Their phalanx was a factory, and they lacked the means to give it the beauty and elegance they would have given it under different circumstances. Still, she thought she would try to stay with them for one night, though she did not look forward to it. Then she saw that accomplished, literary, and refined people lived there in a plain and simple way. They shared the work and hardships that came with such a new institution. She said, 'Well, if these can live here, I can.' Afterward, she gradually grew to like the place and the people and became attached to them. She had good reason to, for it must have been no small thing to find a home in a 'Community composed of some of the choicest spirits of the age.' Everything there was marked by a sense of equality, freedom of thought and speech, and generosity of spirit. She had never before found those qualities to the same extent in any of her wanderings.

Our first knowledge of her was derived from a friend who had resided for a time in the 'Community,' and who, after describing her, and singing one of her hymns, wished that we might see her. But we little thought, at that time, that we should ever pen these 'simple annals' of this child of nature.

We first learned about her from a friend who had lived for a time in the 'Community.' After describing her and singing one of her hymns, our friend wished we could meet her. But at the time, we little thought we would ever write these 'simple annals' of this child of nature.

When we first saw her, she was working with a hearty good will; saying she would not be induced to take regular wages, believing, as once before, that now Providence had provided her with a never-failing fount, from which her every want might be perpetually supplied through her mortal life. In this, she had calculated too fast. For the Associationists found, that, taking every thing into consideration, they would find it most expedient to act individually; and again, the subject of this sketch found her dreams unreal, and herself flung back upon her own resources for the supply of her needs. This she might have found more inconvenient at her time of life-for labor, exposure, and hardship had made sad inroads upon her iron constitution, by inducing chronic disease and premature old age-had she not remained under the shadow of one,* who never wearies in doing good, giving to the needy, and supplying the wants of the destitute. She has now set her heart upon having a little home of her own, even at this late hour of life, where she may feel a greater freedom than she can in the house of another, and where she can repose a little, after her day of action has passed by. And for such a 'home' she is now dependant on the charities of the benevolent, and to them we appeal with confidence.

When we first saw her, she was working with a hearty willingness. She said she would not be persuaded to accept regular wages. As she had once before, she believed that Providence had provided her with a never failing source for all her needs. She thought it would supply her for the rest of her life. But she had been too quick to count on this. The Associationists decided that, all things considered, it would be best for them to act individually. Once again, the subject of this account found her dreams unreal. She was thrown back on her own resources to meet her needs. This might have been harder for her at her time of life. Labor, exposure, and hardship had taken a sad toll on her iron constitution, bringing chronic disease and premature old age. But she had remained under the protection of someone* who never tires of doing good, giving to the needy, and providing for the destitute. Now, even at this late stage of life, she has set her heart on having a little home of her own. There she could feel freer than she can in another person's house. There she could rest a little after her day of action has passed. For such a 'home', she now depends on the generosity of the charitable, and we appeal to them with confidence.

Through all the scenes of her eventful life may be traced the energy of a naturally powerful mind-the fearlessness and child-like simplicity of one untrammelled by education or conventional customs-purity of character-an unflinching adherence to principle-and a native enthusiasm, which, under different circumstances, might easily have produced another Joan of Arc.

Throughout her eventful life, one can trace the energy of a naturally powerful mind. She had the fearlessness and childlike simplicity of someone unconstrained by education or social customs. She was pure in character and unwavering in her principles. Her natural enthusiasm, under different circumstances, might easily have produced another Joan of Arc.

With all her fervor, and enthusiasm, and speculation, her religion is not tinctured in the least with gloom. No doubt, no hesitation, no despondency, spreads a cloud over her soul; but all is bright, clear, positive, and at times ecstatic. Her trust is in God, and from him she looks for good, and not evil. She feels that 'perfect love casteth out fear.'

For all her passion, enthusiasm, and speculation, there is no trace of gloom in her religion. No doubt, hesitation, or despair clouds her soul. Instead, everything is bright, clear, certain, and at times ecstatic. She trusts in God and looks to him for good, not evil. She feels that 'perfect love casts out fear.'

Having more than once found herself awaking from a mortifying delusion,-as in the case of the Sing-Sing kingdom,-and resolving not to be thus deluded again, she has set suspicion to guard the door of her heart, and allows it perhaps to be aroused by too slight causes, on certain subjects-her vivid imagination assisting to magnify the phantoms of her fears into gigantic proportions, much beyond their real size; instead of resolutely adhering to the rule we all like best, when it is to be applied to ourselves-that of placing every thing we see to the account of the best possible motive, until time and circumstance prove that we were wrong. Where no good motive can be assigned, it may become our duty to suspend our judgment till evidence can be had.

More than once, she had discovered that she had been painfully deceived, as with the Sing-Sing kingdom. She resolved not to be deceived again. So she now guards her heart with suspicion. On certain subjects, perhaps even slight causes arouse that suspicion. Her vivid imagination helps magnify the phantoms of her fears to enormous proportions, far beyond their real size. Instead, she might firmly follow the rule we all like best when it applies to ourselves. We should assume the best possible motive for everything we see, until time and circumstances prove us wrong. Where no good motive can be found, it may be our duty to withhold judgment until evidence is available.

In the application of this rule, it is an undoubted duty to exercise a commendable prudence, by refusing to repose any important trust to the keeping of persons who may be strangers to us, and whose trustworthiness we have never seen tried. But no possible good, but incalculable evil may and does arise from the too common practice of placing all conduct, the source of which we do not fully understand, to the worst of intentions. How often is the gentle, timid soul discouraged, and driven perhaps to despondency, by finding its 'good evil spoken of;' and a well-meant but mistaken action loaded with an evil design!

In applying this rule, we have a clear duty to be wisely cautious. We should not place important trust in strangers whose trustworthiness we have never seen tested. But no good can come from the all too common practice of assuming the worst motives for conduct we do not fully understand. This practice can and does cause immeasurable harm. How often a gentle, timid soul is discouraged, and perhaps driven to despair, by finding its 'good spoken of as evil'! How often is a well-meant but mistaken action blamed on an evil intention!

If the world would but sedulously set about reforming itself on this one point, who can calculate the change it would produce-the evil it would annihilate, and the happiness it would confer! None but an all-seeing eye could at once embrace so vast a result. A result, how desirable! and one that can be brought about only by the most simple process-that of every individual seeing to it that he commit not this sin himself. For why should we allow in ourselves, the very fault we most dislike, when committed against us? Shall we not at least aim at consistency?

If the world would only make a serious effort to reform itself on this one point, who could measure the change? Who could measure the evil it would wipe out and the happiness it would bring? Only an all-seeing eye could take in so vast a result at once. How desirable such a result would be! And it can be achieved only through a simple process: each person must make sure not to commit this sin. For why should we allow ourselves the very fault we most dislike when others commit it against us? Should we not at least aim to be consistent?

Had she possessed less generous self-sacrifice, more knowledge of the world and of business matters in general, and had she failed to take it for granted that others were like herself, and would, when her turn came to need, do as she had done, and find it 'more blessed to give than to receive,' she might have laid by something for the future. For few, perhaps, have ever possessed the power and inclination, in the same degree, at one and the same time, to labor as she has done, both day and night, for so long a period of time. And had these energies been well-directed, and the proceeds well husbanded, since she has been her own mistress, they would have given her an independence during her natural life. But her constitutional biases, and her early training, or rather want of training, prevented this result; and it is too late now to remedy the great mistake. Shall she then be left to want? Who will not answer. 'No!'

If she had been less generously self-sacrificing and knew more about the world and business, she might have saved for the future. She also assumed others were like her. She believed they would do as she had done when she needed help, and find it "more blessed to give than to receive." Few people, perhaps, have had both the ability and the desire to work as she has, day and night, for so long. Since becoming her own mistress, she could have earned enough to support herself for life. But that would have required her to direct her efforts well and manage her earnings carefully. Her natural tendencies and her early training, or rather her lack of training, prevented this. Now it is too late to correct the great mistake. Shall she be left in need, then? Who would not answer, "No!"