Tuesday, January 24, 2023

The Development of the Episcopal Church and Its Relation to Slavery in Antebellum New Jersey

SUMMARY: The establishment of the Diocese of New Jersey was accomplished with resources derived through the enslavement of Black Americans. The earliest influential priests gained their wealth from enslaved labor and directly held Blacks enslaved, as did the early bishops. The building of churches during this period used funds derived from the enslavement of Blacks, and elite lay Episcopalians were among some of the worst abusers of the institution. In spite of missionary attention to enslaved Blacks during the colonial period, Blacks in New Jersey generally did not widely embrace the Episcopal Church during the gradual abolition period, seeking instead religious institutions that better affirmed their leadership and initiative.

 

The Development of The Episcopal Church and its Relation to Slavery in Antebellum New Jersey

 

When looking back at the 19th century history of the Episcopal Church in the Diocese of New Jersey some of the data regarding its treatment of Black Americans can be surprising to a modern reader. This may be especially true if one views the Church through its modern reputation of being one of the most progressive Christian denominations in the United States.[1] To such a reader the picture of the Diocese during the period of gradual abolition in New Jersey may seem unfamiliar. As a founding member of Trinity Church in Princeton Robert Stockton not only himself enslaved hundreds of Black Americans, but was instrumental in the American Colonization Society efforts to rid the nation of Blacks.[2] The first Bishop of the Diocese, John Croes, not only enslaved Blacks, but freed them just before he became legally liable for their care in old age.[3] St. Peter’s Church, Spotswood welcomed and affirmed the participation of Jacob Van Wickle who, as a judge in Middlesex County, was the central enabler of a notorious interstate slave trading ring designed to circumvent gradual abolition law.[4]

         The precedents formed in the colonial era shaped how the Diocese handled issues related to slavery and the treatment of Black Americans during the gradual abolition period in New Jersey. While the Church of England was never formally established in New Jersey, its role as a state church in England set the tone for how its priests and laity handled the issues of slavery. The role played by the Church of England in sanctioning the plantation economy in New Jersey as a legitimate enterprise, and enslaved Blacks as instrumental to its success, influenced the treatment of Black Americans in the Diocese long after the Crown had ceased oversight, and even well after England and other northern states had rejected slavery. These influences and their afterlives following the American Revolution, likely served to estrange many Black Americans from the Episcopal Church in the early days of the Diocese of New Jersey and helped set the tone for a widely acknowledged[5] alienation from the denomination.

            Following the Revolutionary War, the few remaining Anglican clergy who had not fled the colony sought to restart public worship and to repair what had been lost and destroyed during the war. The process, however, was slow, as friends of the Church of England generally were viewed as traitors to the American patriot cause. Rebuilding would also involve organizing the Church apart from the efforts of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (SPG). Dioceses were organized by state, but the speed at which a Bishop was finally appointed in New Jersey (not until 1815) indicates the state of organizational and financial disarray at the time. The Church of England had never been established in New Jersey like it had been, for instance, in Virginia, so it had little to lose from dis-establishment, but it had been very dependent on its financial connections to Britain, and in particular to the SPG. Of the forty or so parishes and preaching stations active before the war only eight[6] sent a representative to the first diocesan state convention after the war (at Christ Church, New Brunswick in July 1785), and among the delegates were only three priests.[7]

            That is not to say that the Anglican church was bereft of supporters at this time. There had been plenty of SPG activity in New Jersey before the war and the effect of those efforts laid an ample groundwork for the Episcopal Diocese of New Jersey. In general, the church in New Jersey grew with the state during this period. By 1810 the number of active parishes had recovered from its post-war nadir to twenty-six and ministering clergy to fifteen.[8] There was steady growth under Bishop John Croes such that at the end of his tenure (1832) there were thirty-two congregations, eighteen clergy, and approximately eight-hundred communicants.[9]

            Under the second bishop, George Washington Doane, the Diocese experienced dramatic growth, due not only to his intense, and at times less-than-legal, “energetic episcopate”[10] but likely also to the fact that the Revolutionary generation had passed, and living generations did not harbor the same distrust of the Church of England. At his death in 1859, the Diocese had ninety-eight clergy, eighty-five parishes and missions, and approximately five-thousand communicants.[11]

            William H. Odenheimer was the third bishop of the Diocese, serving through the Civil War, until 1874 when the Diocese split into the Dioceses of Southern New Jersey (now called the Diocese of New Jersey) and Northern New Jersey (now called the Diocese of Newark), a split occasioned by significant growth. Odenheimer continued his tenure with the Diocese of Northern New Jersey after 1874. Under Odenheimer, and before the split, the Diocese grew to include 152 clergy, 129 parishes and missions, and 12,176 communicants, representing approximately 1.2% of a state whose population had exploded in the intervening years to approximately one million residents.[12]

             In general the Episcopal Church in New Jersey during this period did not make waves politically.[13] Few Episcopalians became abolitionists, and many more supported the work of The American Colonization Society.[14] Even during the Civil War the Episcopal Church was the only majority-White Christian denomination that did not split over slavery. Much of the Church at this time saw itself as ministering to Whites, not Blacks. The denomination intentionally took a conciliatory approach to the conflict and to slavery out of fear of alienating constituents.[15] As a northern slave state, New Jersey took the lead in this approach. Such conciliation toward slavery can be seen throughout the period of gradual abolition in New Jersey and no doubt was a cause of much Black alienation from the denomination. However, beyond the institutional attitude of conciliation was an ongoing and active practice of participation in enslavement on the part of elite members of the denomination. 

            Two of the most influential priests in the formation of the Diocese were Uzal Ogden and Abraham Beach. These two were among the few who attended the first Diocesan convention and both ministered in the State for lengthy periods of time, shaping much of the future trajectory of the Diocese. Ogden’s family wealth was derived from the employment of enslaved labor at the Ringwood Iron Works[16] and he benefitted from this accumulated power and wealth through an appointment as rector of Trinity Church, Newark where he continued to affirm the institution.[17] Beach served as Rector of Christ Church New Brunswick for decades, during which time he countenanced the practice of owning slaves among his parishioners.[18]He himself enslaved Blacks on his estate and only freed them in his old age when his retirement annuities from his church work fully covered his expenses.[19] This practice among the clergy of building wealth through the enslavement of Blacks and then freeing them only when most convenient was also practiced by Bishop Croes, the first bishop of the Diocese. He is recorded as having practiced manumission immediately before he became legally liable for the care of his enslaved Blacks in their old age.[20] This kind of practice not only harmed those Blacks manumitted under these conditions, but often required support of those manumitted through almshouses due to the commonly destitute state of the newly manumitted.[21]


The Right Rev. John Croes, D.D.
Image from William Perry, The Bishops of the American Church (New York: 1897)


            The spate of church growth under Bishop Doane was, in many instances, underwritten by wealth derived from enslaved labor. Doane himself was able to act with such energy, in part due to the wealth he held that had been produced through enslavement of Blacks.[22] He was involved with the founding of many institutions, and courted southern donations, in part, by affirming the practice of slavery.[23] Among other schools, he was significantly involved with the board of trustees at General Seminary in New York, which became notorious for its support of the American Colonization Society at this time. 

            This willingness to work with and benefit from slavery at the highest levels of leadership in the Diocese also translated into lay comfort with the institution. One example comes from one of the prominent founders of Trinity Church, Princeton, Robert Stockton,[24] who gave a large percentage of the funds used to build the church. Stockton’s own comfort with slavery went beyond his own in-state holdings. At his Georgia estate he enslaved hundreds of Black Americans.[25]The wealth he derived from this practice allowed him to gain both significant political power, and power beyond government institutions, including in the Church. His geographically dispersed enslavement practices show that the ways the Church in New Jersey became established depended not only on the support of slavery in New Jersey, but on its protected exercise in other regions as well, including the South. Stockton’s significant involvement in the American Colonization Society, including his role in the conquering of the African territory that became Liberia, indicates the degree to which he was willing to control the fates of Blacks in order to impose his preferred (and highly racist) priorities.

         Perhaps the most egregiously abusive actions on the part of a New Jersey Episcopalian during this time period came from Middlesex County judge Jacob Van Wickle.[26] Under the slavery codes of the time no sales out-of-state of enslaved persons were allowed without the express consent of the person being sold. This was particularly important during the period of gradual abolition because many Blacks then enslaved in New Jersey, would be ultimately freed after their legal term of service in New Jersey, but if they were sold into slavery in a state that allowed permanent enslavement, they would lose this legally enshrined promise of future freedom. Van Wickle sought to benefit from the arbitrage opportunity presented by higher valuations for enslaved Blacks in the deep South than were common in New Jersey.[27] He and his son ran a slave-trading-ring encouraging New Jersey owners to sell to his brother-in-law for higher than New Jersey market rates but significantly below valuations common in the deep South. Van Wickle forged papers of acquiescence for at least seventy-five enslaved Blacks, who were smuggled out of state. Eventually he was stopped, partly by concerned Quakers,[28] and partly by other slave-holding Episcopalians,[29] but he was never convicted of a crime even when it was clear that he had been breaking the law. Van Wickle is buried at St. Peter’s Church, Spotswood[30] along with other family members. His children were baptized there.

            Before the Revolutionary war a significant number of enslaved Black Americans were exposed to Anglican worship and teaching. However, after the war, for the most part, free Black Americans went elsewhere. Of course, this was not universally true, but the attraction of worshipping communities (Methodist, Baptist, nascent AME) that would more readily affirm Black Americans’ religious experience, abilities, and leadership was strong. Those denominations that insisted on traditional, expensive, elite education (mostly accessible only to Whites) as the only acceptable avenue to the priesthood (e.g. the Episcopal Church), lost many faithful and gifted potential Black leaders who simply went where the exercise of their gifts was allowed or even welcomed. There were exceptions of course (e.g. Rev. Absalom Jones[31] in Philadelphia for instance) but this was the general pattern of the time, and the road for those who persisted was beset with racist obstacles.[32] Many prominent Black Christian leaders and writers in this period, such as George White and Jon Jea, articulate separation from an Anglican Church expression or background.[33] Black aspirants to the priesthood from around the country were routinely rejected at General Theological Seminary, where the Bishop of New Jersey served on the board of trustees.[34] The first Black American born in New Jersey to be ordained to the priesthood was Rev. Peter Williams Jr.,[35] though he became Episcopalian after leaving the state. The first Black Episcopal Church in New Jersey, St. Philip’s, was formed in 1856 in Newark,[36] however governance from the Diocese was highly paternalistic. This shows that some Black Episcopalians managed to persist in the faith in spite of overwhelming obstacles in the Diocese at this time. However, it is not hard to see why many Black Americans sought alternate institutional religious expressions when the prevailing attitudes and practices of elite White Episcopalians in New Jersey were so inhumane even toward Blacks who were fellow Christians. 

Writing the history of the treatment of Black Americans in the Diocese of New Jersey during the period of gradual abolition is a massive undertaking and this document is only meant to serve as an initial, introductory treatment. Further research and documentation are ongoing.

 

Jolyon G. R. Pruszinski, Ph.D.

Reparations Commission Research Historian

Episcopal Diocese of New Jersey



[1] One might be similarly confused if one took the knowledge that the (Anglican) Society for the Propagation of the Gospel was ostensibly founded for the catechism and baptism of Native American and Black slaves in colonial American to mean, like Nelson R. Burr did, that “The Church cherishes the Negro.” See Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey (Philadelphia: The Church Historical Society, 1954), p. 224-28.

[2] Society of the American Colonization Society in New Jersey, “Proceedings of a Meeting Held at Princeton, New Jersey, July 14, 1824 to Form a Society in the State of New Jersey to Cooperate with the American Colonization Society,” July 24, 1824. MSS held at Trinity Church, Princeton archives.

[3] Jesse Bayker, Christopher Blakley, and Kendra Boyd, “His Name Was Will: Remembering Enslaved Individuals in Rutgers History,” in Marisa J. Fuentes and Deborah Gray White, eds., Scarlet and Black Volume I: Slavery and Dispossession in Rutgers History (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2016), p. 80.

[4] Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition: Slavery and Freedom in New Jersey, 1775-1865 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015), pp. 157-60.

[5] See for example Robert E. Hood, “From a Headstart to a Deadstart: The Historical Basis for Black Indifference Toward the Episcopal Church 1800-1860,” Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church 51.3 (1982): 269-296. The alienation was not universal, but significant.

[6] Christ Church New Brunswick (the host church), Trinity Church Newark, St. John’s Church Elizabethtown, St. Peter’s Church Perth Amboy, Christ Church Shrewsbury, St. James Church Piscataway, St. Mary’s Church Burlington, and St. Andrew’s Church Mount Holly.

[7] Rev. Abraham Beach, Rev. Uzal Ogden, and Rev. John-Hamilton Rowland.

[8] WPA, Inventory of the Church Archives of New Jersey: Protestant Episcopal (Newark: The Historical Records Survey, 1940), p. 48.

[9] In a state with a population of approximately 320,823 people. At the end of his tenure the proportion of Episcopalians in New Jersey was still quite low: Less than 0.25% of residents were communicants. Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, p. 478.

[10] He was reprimanded for financial impropriety. Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, pp. 462-465; WPA, Inventory of the Church Archives of New Jersey: Protestant Episcopal, pp. 55-56.

[11] This translates into an approximate proportion of Episcopalian communicants of 0.83% within the general population of a state of 672,025 inhabitants; this represents a dramatic rate of growth during Doane’s tenure, while still accounting for only a small proportion of the overall population.

[12] Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, pp. 465-466, 480.

[13] Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, pp. 460-461.

[14] Which, through racist logic, supported sending Blacks back to Africa. 

[15] Drawing perhaps the wrong lesson from the Revolutionary War.

[16] Which also enabled his father to serve as a founding member of Trinity Church Newark. He furnished the labor for its building. See William Wheeler, The Ogden Family in America (Philadelphia: Lippincott Co., 1907), p. 64.

[17] His sister married Peter Schuyler, another prominent Anglican whose wealth came from enslaved labor.

[18] Marisa J. Fuentes and Deborah Gray White, eds., Scarlet and Black, Vol. 1: Slavery and Dispossession in Rutgers History (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2016), p. 181 n. 33.

[19] Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, pp. 583-585.

[20] Bayker, Blakley, and Boyd, “His Name Was Will: Remembering Enslaved Individuals in Rutgers History,” p. 80.

[21] Graham Russell Gao Hodges (Black New Jersey: 1664 to the Present Day [New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2019], p. 59) describes an example of this phenomenon in the 1820’s in Cape May County.

[22] This wealth came from his wife. Eliza Greene Callahan Perkins had first been married to James Perkins, who was a wealthy slaveowner and slave trader. See “Harvard & the Legacy of Slavery,” (Boston: Harvard University, 2022), p. 22: https://legacyofslavery.harvard.edu

[24] Later also a U.S. Senator from New Jersey, he was a founding parishioner who served on the first vestry at Trinity Church, Princeton. See Robert Field Stockton and John R. Thomson, “Subscription Book of 1827 to Build a Protestant Episcopal Church in the Borough of Princeton,” August 16, 1827. See also, The Rector, Wardens and Vestrymen of Trinity Church in the Borough of Princeton, “Certificate of Incorporation,” May 17, 1833. MSS held at Trinity Church, Princeton archives.

[25] U.S. Census 1830. According to this data there were at least 108 Blacks held as slaves on his plantation in Brunswick, Georgia at the time. See also R. John Brockmann, Commodore Robert F. Stockton (1795-1866) A Protean Man for a Protean Nation (Amherst, NY: Cambria Press, 2009), pp. 72-73.

[26] Also spelled “Van Winkle.”

[27] Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, pp. 157-60.

[28] Hodges, Black New Jersey, p. 79.

[29] Including James Parker, Jr. of St. Peter’s Church Perth Amboy. https://records.njslavery.org/s/doc/item/1388.

[30] Harry Macy, Jr., “The Van Wicklen/Van Wickle Family: Including its Frisian Origin and Connections to Minnerly and Kranchheyt,” The New York Genealogical and Biographical Record 128.4 (October 1997): 250-51.

[32] See Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 201-202.

[33] See Graham Russell Hodges, ed., Black Itinerants of the Gospel: The Narratives of John Jea and George White (New York: Palgrave, 2002), pp. 53, 130.

[34] The rejection of Alexander Crummell for admission to General was actually fought by Bishop Doane (See Craig Steve Wilder, “’Driven… from the School of the Prophets’: The Colonizationist Ascendence at General Theological Seminary,” New York History 93.3 [2012]: 157-185).

[36] Robert A. Bennett, “Black Episcopalians: A History From The Colonial Period To The Present,” Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church 43.3 (1974): 238. 

Sunday, January 22, 2023

Gradual Abolition and the Persistence of Slavery in New Jersey

Summary: In the period after the Revolution some positive legal changes in New Jersey affected enslaved Blacks, including ending the importation of slaves and removing some of the obstacles to manumission, followed eventually in 1804 by the Gradual Emancipation Act, but in other ways the situation for Blacks worsened. Free Blacks were stripped of their right to vote in 1807 and White racism prevented the Black exercise of many freedoms that Whites took for granted. The free Black population grew every year, especially following the late 1820s when gradual emancipation finally began to take effect, and throughout the mid-1800’s Black New Jersey residents managed to carve out a difficult existence in a state where racist attitudes were so established that even the ratification of 13th Amendment after the Civil War was initially rejected by the state legislature.


Gradual Abolition and the Persistence of Slavery in New Jersey


After the Revolutionary war many New Jersey residents clearly saw the problem with continuing legal slavery in an ostensibly “free” nation, but many more insisted that the fledgling nation needed every economic advantage it could leverage to recover from the war. Meanwhile, most Americans held very racist views of Blacks. The influence of these latter two perspectives prevented any dramatic action in New Jersey on the issue of slavery. That New Jersey bore the brunt of the destruction from the war as the chief locus of military action provided a heavily deployed excuse for legislative inaction in freeing slaves. Nevertheless, Quaker pressures toward manumission and abolition began to take effect, and many private manumissions occurred in the years following the war. Quaker influence in western New Jersey resulted in diminishing levels of enslavement in the region, while in east Jersey the institution remained entrenched.[1] In the early days following the war (1786) the legislature passed an act[2] preventing further importation of slaves from Africa or other U.S. states, however intra-state trade was still allowed.[3]

         The New Jersey Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery was formed during this time and worked to protect freed Blacks, lobby for liberalization of slavery codes, and minimize the abuses of the institution. Following the Revolution, at least in theory, free Blacks in New Jersey could own property and vote, the only state in which these were legal rights. However, the constraints on Blacks, especially enslaved Blacks, were very slow to lessen. Following Caribbean revolts, in 1793 the federal government passed the Fugitive Slave Act which required inter-state co-operation in the return of escapees. In 1798 the New Jersey legislature passed a slave code[4] that re-affirmed the institution and strengthened constraints on the behavior of enslaved persons. In 1804 the New Jersey legislature passed a law (the Gradual Emancipation Act) for the gradual abolition of slavery,[5] but no enslaved persons were immediately freed through the bill. Children born to enslaved persons after July 4, 1804 would be freed upon a term of service of 21 years for women and 25 years for men. New Jersey was the last northern state to pass such a law, and few viewed the act as a dramatic development. 


"An Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery" (1804)
Courtesy of the Library of Congress Printed Ephemera Collection

         This modest advance was accompanied by significant losses. Masters were allowed to abandon babies born to their slaves to the care of the state, but generally took the children back with state compensation, making their enslavement more profitable. Free Blacks lost the right to vote in New Jersey in 1807.
[6] The New Jersey Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery considered its work done and disbanded in 1809. The population of free Blacks grew, but at least in east Jersey, so did the population of enslaved Blacks. In 1820 the legislature passed an omnibus slavery bill codifying and re-affirming existing slavery laws on the books.[7] The New Jersey supreme court,[8] in spite of the significant population of free Blacks in the state, continued to defend the default assumption by law enforcement that Blacks were prima facie enslaved until proven otherwise.[9] As such, Blacks could not expect just application of the law. 
         This legal presumption was only finally overturned[10] after significant numbers of Blacks began to gain freedom through gradual abolition starting in 1825.[11] During the following decades the balance of enslaved versus freed Blacks in New Jersey shifted permanently toward freedom. There were still major obstacles, but the power of freed Blacks to shape their own destiny grew inexorably greater. White anxiety over the increasing numbers of free Blacks in the state led to the founding and support for the American Colonization Society (ACS),[12] the purpose of which was to facilitate the removal Blacks from the United States. A few Blacks, upon sizing up the ugly state of affairs in the United States, cooperated with the ACS, but for the most part ACS overtures and initiatives were met with hostility by Black Americans. Black newspapers of the time are full of articles denouncing the aims and tactics of the ACS.[13] Ultimately the ACS was successful in establishing Liberia as the proposed colony, but was very unsuccessful in winning broad cooperation among stateside Blacks.

         The legal landscape for Black Americans during these decades was constantly shifting. Hard won protections at the state level required constant effort to maintain, but could still be threatened by federal actions. The 1826 New Jersey personal liberty law added protections, and a 1836 state Supreme Court case required trials by jury for purported “escaped slaves” in order to prevent corrupt decisions supporting enslavers.[14] However, the federal Supreme Court decision Prigg v. Pennsylvania of 1842 overturned all such state decisions.[15] Due to the various difficulties free and enslaved Blacks were experiencing in the state, and the increasing awareness and concern among Whites regarding these conditions, in 1839 the New Jersey Anti-slavery Society was founded. Further lobbying resulted in the passing of an 1846 law[16] that ostensibly ended slavery in the state, but euphemistically still required former slaves to remain bound “apprentices” for life. Practically, New Jersey slavery proved very hard to stop. The Dred Scott v. Sandford U.S. Supreme Court decision[17] of 1857 in particular undermined even the meager[18] legal rights that had to that point been won by Black New Jerseyans.

         New Jersey, as a state near the Mason-Dixon line, developed into a key transit point, and even destination, for formerly enslaved Blacks escaping from the South. Towns along the east banks of the lower Delaware linked Blacks moving by boat to the corridor to New York City. Several free Black towns sprung up in this area, offering temporary protection to those moving further north, and longer-term shelter to those willing to risk proximity to the South and active slave-catching operations. Towns such as Timbuctoo, Colemantown, Snow Hill, Guineatown, Saddlertown, Springtown, and Gouldtown were critical stops on the New Jersey section of the Underground Railroad.[19] However, as seen by the modest growth in the Black population of New Jersey at this time, most Blacks were looking to head somewhere safer and more hospitable. In this period New Jersey authorities often cooperated with slave-catchers. Discrimination and segregation made property ownership and wealth building difficult for Black residents of New Jersey. There were some jobs available in service industries, but for the most part Whites worked to keep free Blacks employed in the same roles in which they had worked when enslaved.[20]

Once the Civil War broke out, New Jersey was, in many ways, a reluctant member of the Union. The persistence of slavery in the state meant that while technically New Jersey was a northern state in many ways, it maintained significant southern sympathies. When in 1865, at the conclusion of the war the U.S. Congress passed the amendment banning slavery in all states (except as punishment for a crime) the majority Democrat New Jersey legislature did not ratify it. It was not until a new, more Republican congressional class took office in 1866 that the New Jersey legislature ratified the 13th Amendment.

 


For more information on slavery in New Jersey see: 

 

Geneva Smith, “Legislating Slavery in New Jersey,” https://slavery.princeton.edu/stories/legislating-slavery-in-new-jersey.

 

Christopher Matthews, “The Black Freedom Struggle in Northern New Jersey, 1613-1860: A Review of the Literature,” https://www.montclair.edu/anthropology/research/slavery-in-nj/

 

James J. Gigantino, II, The Ragged Road to Abolition: Slavery and Freedom in New Jersey, 1775-1865 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015).

 

Graham Russell Gao Hodges, Black New Jersey: 1664 to the Present Day (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2019).

 


Jolyon Pruszinski, Ph.D.

Reparations Commission Research Historian
Episcopal Diocese of New Jersey



[1] The number of enslaved Blacks in east Jersey grew significantly in the decades after the war. See James Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition (Philadelphia: UPenn, 2015), 67.

[2] “An Act to prevent the Importation of Slaves into the State of New-Jersey, and to authorize the Manumission of them under certain Restrictions, and to prevent the Abuse of Slaves.” March 2, 1786, Acts 10th G.A. 2nd sitting. Excerpts appear at: https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47e3-f8a3-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99.

[3] This act also removed some of the onerous existing barriers to manumission.

[4] “An Act respecting Slaves,” March 14, 1798, Acts 22nd G.A. 2nd sitting. http://fas-history.rutgers.edu/clemens/NJLaw/slavelaw1798.html.

[5] “An act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery,” February 15, 1804, Acts 28th G.A. 2nd sitting.https://dspace.njstatelib.org/xmlui/handle/10929/68964.

[6] “A Supplement to the act entitled 'An act to regulate the election of members of the legislative council and general assembly, sheriffs and coroners in this state,' passed at Trenton the twenty-second day of February, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven.” November 16, 1807, §1, Acts 32nd G.A. 1st sitting. https://dspace.njstatelib.org/xmlui/handle/10929/50467.

[7] Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 150.

[8] Known as the “New Jersey Court of Errors and Appeals.”

[9] This formal decision was made in 1821: Gibbons v. Morse, 7 New Jersey Law 20, Court of Errors and Appeals, November term, 1821. http://fas-history.rutgers.edu/clemens/NJLaw/gibbons1821.html. Also at NJ State Archives. 

[10] Not overturned until 1836.

[11] Women began to be freed in 1825, and men in 1829.

[12] Founded in 1816.

[13] Hodges, Black New Jersey, 65-66.

[14] Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 219.

[15] Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 222.

[18] And haltingly-acknowledged, yet hard-won.

[19] Hodges, Black New Jersey, 81.

[20] Exceptions existed of course, but these were the predominant patterns. See Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 111, 117; Hodges, Black New Jersey, 63-64.

Monday, January 16, 2023

News: San Francisco's reparations committee proposes $5M payout to every longtime black resident

"San Francisco's reparations committee will propose paying $5million to each longtime black resident of the city in a reparations plan this spring. To qualify, people need to have identified as black on public records for at least 10 years and be at least 18 years old. They also must qualify for two of a number of requirements, including having been born in the city or migrated to it between 1940 and 1996 and then lived there for 13 years..." (For more see source article: dailymail.co.uk)

The Revolutionary Period and Early Black Estrangement from the Episcopal Church

Summary: During the Revolutionary War, the British freed all enslaved Blacks who defected to their side, including a large percentage of enslaved Blacks from New Jersey. The Revolutionaries sought to continue the practice of slavery and the fledgling Episcopal Church participated in this practice post-war. In spite of pre-war White Anglican (self-serving) attentions to some Blacks, for the most part Black Americans sought post-war outlets for religious expression that were more affirming of their experience, leadership, and humanity than the Episcopal Church was at the time.

The Revolutionary Period and Early Black Estrangement from the Episcopal Church

         Even as Anglican priests in New Jersey largely avoided directly addressing the issue of the enslavement of Blacks,[1] the effects of S.P.G. missionary attention to enslaved Blacks were not insignificant, and “undermined the authoritarian power of the master in important ways.”[2]

As a transatlantic faith, Anglicanism stressed the importance of international and imperial bonds over local governance. Anglican instructors accentuated the importance of sacred power over the temporal authority. Although Anglicans vigorously denied that baptism mandated emancipation, folk customs held that refusal of this rite placed slave masters in opposition to God, instilling among blacks a critique of slavery. Finally, Anglican educational efforts constructed genuine English establishment ties to blacks, which made African American choices in the American Revolution very easy.[3]

While many Anglican parishes in New Jersey[4] certainly allowed both free and enslaved Blacks in worship,[5] and the opportunities available to some enslaved Blacks through participation in Anglican parishes in New Jersey were not insubstantial, nevertheless these attentions to enslaved Blacks on the part of the S.P.G. missionary priests did not translate into large-scale affinity among Black Americans for the Episcopal Church in New Jersey after the Revolutionary War. 


John Jea: Internationally renowned preacher and mariner.
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

            Even as the Anglican churches may have afforded one of the most robust opportunities to Black Americans to participate formally in church life before the War, this reality did not overcome the problems associated with this avenue of institutional religious participation. Among the reasons for hesitancy were the problem that there was no avenue authorized by Church of England authorities for Black religious leadership in Anglican parishes in New Jersey in the colonial period. Ordination was effectively impossible.
[6] Gifted, knowledgeable, and earnest Black Christian leaders in the region like John Jea and George White, who had experience and training with the Anglican Church in their background, found the need to express their calling outside the Episcopal Church, in part because it was too limiting of their free expression of their faith and leadership.[7] The Methodist split, and the further formation of what would become independent African Methodist Episcopal churches in the region after the War, offered readier opportunities for Black church leadership. A further reason for the hesitancy of Black Americans to embrace the Episcopal Church after the War may be seen in the military policy developments that occurred during the War itself.
            The British military policy toward slavery, which arose during the conflict, could be understood as an about-face from their previous colonial policy. While the colonies had been viewed as a useful source of plantation income, slavery was facilitated. But as soon as the colonies were in rebellion, British commanders saw an opportunity to undermine the rebellion by offering freedom to Blacks who would fight for the Crown. Even before the Declaration was signed (1775), the Governor of Virginia, John Murray, had declared that any slave or indentured servant who would serve in the British military to put down the rebellion would be freed.[8] A steady stream of Blacks fled to the British lines, particularly from New Jersey to New York City, to fight for their freedom. Ultimately this fiat manumission was extended even to those who did not fight, when the British general for New York, David Jones, declared free any enslaved Blacks who left rebel-occupied territory saying “no person whatever [could] claim a right to them.”[9] These military policy-makers were Anglicans, and no doubt much of their motivation came from military concerns rather than moral or scriptural conviction. Nevertheless, the British stuck to their promise, offering Blacks passage out of the United States and confirmed freedom provided they had made it behind British lines before the cessation of hostilities.[10]

            However, rather than viewing the wartime British policy toward enslaved Blacks as an about-face, it should probably be viewed in continuity with the previous policy. Certainly the previous pro-slavery policy was intended to benefit the Crown. The Anglican Church support for the state policy can be viewed as a function of its role as a state church “loyally” working to benefit the economic and political power of the Crown. The S.P.G. attention to enslaved Blacks can be seen in a similar light. Hodges has suggested that these proselytizing attentions were intended as “the strongest bulwark against disloyalty and insurrection,” which were seen as particularly necessary in a land full of “Dissenters” whose loyalty was questionable and who could not be expected to become ready converts to the Church of England.[11]  These attentions were part of a full-spectrum effort which included “secret Crown instructions to royal governors” requiring special efforts to “encourage the Conversion of Negroes… to our Christian religion.”[12]

Seen in this light, the Anglican concern for the conversion of enslaved Blacks in New Jersey was clearly not disinterested, nor motivated purely by humanitarian or spiritual concern. The concerns of the Anglican Church, as an arm of the state, were in inculcating loyalty wherever possible to God, the Church, and the Crown. Loyalty to one of these entities was expected to affect loyalty to the others salubriously. The Church of England’s concern for conversions among enslaved Blacks was an extension of a geopolitical concern, one which bore fruit for the British during the Revolutionary War in the fealty, even if opportunistic, shown by enslaved Blacks seeking freedom under temporarily instituted military policy. 

            Following the War, the Anglican Church in New Jersey was in utter disarray ­–services had been disrupted, and priests had mostly fled.[13] In no position to make further political waves[14] the enfeebled Church continued its previous policy supporting slavery. Its previous pro-slavery sentiments remained consistent with then-current popular opinion in the state. Some New Jersey priests even sought reparations for the loss of their runaways.[15] Since it was Anglicans who had, through military policy, freed “loyal” Blacks during the War (and then left), but also Anglicans who continued to support slavery in New Jersey, it was clear to Black New Jerseyans that the Anglican Church in New Jersey did not have their deepest interests at heart. Anglican institutional interest in Blacks had been largely a function of economic and political self-interest, pious protestations aside.

            Of course the most obvious reason for Black abandonment of the Anglican Church in New Jersey after the Revolutionary War was the fact that the Church had been, and continued to be, fully co-operative with Black enslavement.[16] The ideological, legal, and financial responsibility of the Anglican Church for slavery in what became the Diocese of New Jersey was very significant, and went well beyond accounting for the dollar value of gifts given from slavery encumbered wealth.[17] If hagiography, which emphasizes concern for and education of enslaved Blacks, were the only story to be told,[18] clearly Black Americans would have been more involved in the Episcopal Church in New Jersey after the Revolutionary War. While there was not a wholesale abandonment,[19] there was a clear movement to other institutional expressions of Christian religion.[20] This movement came partly as a result of freer opportunities in these other contexts for the expression of Black leadership and Black faith. It came partly as a result of the previous and continued support for enslavement by Anglican leadership[21] and laity.[22]

            However, perhaps the most significant reason for Black disengagement from the Anglican Church was that it was likely very clear that attention paid them by the Church[23] was primarily the result of self-interested economic and political concern and not predominantly concern for them qua human brethren. Though not formally a “state church,” and in spite of even its predecessor (the Church of England) never having been the officially established church of New Jersey, the Episcopal Church in New Jersey operated toward Black Americans out of its prior broader Anglican identity as a state church and its concerns over political clout and stability, even well after the separation of the American colonies from England. As such, the British military policy enacted during the War should not be seen as a reversal exactly, but rather indicative of a larger –consistent– instrumental view of enslaved Blacks on the part of most Anglicans. Blacks were viewed as either means to more important ends, or as a concern of lesser importance than other, more pressing economic and political concerns. As a result, when allowed the option to leave slavery during the War, many enslaved Blacks left, and when choosing their religious affiliation after the War, Black Americans generally left the Episcopal Church alone.


Jolyon G. R. Pruszinski, Ph.D.
Reparations Commission Research Historian
Episcopal Diocese of New Jersey


[1] Hodges, Slavery and Freedom in the Rural North, 75.

[2] Hodges, Slavery and Freedom in the Rural North, 71.

[3] Hodges, Slavery and Freedom in the Rural North, 71.

[4] Burr (The Anglican Church in New Jersey, 224-28) collates much of the priestly correspondence on this issue suggesting that there was probably at least partially integrated worship in several parishes, though Edgar Pennington strangely leaves New Jersey out entirely in his treatment of the S.P.G. efforts to reach enslaved Blacks in the American colonies: Pennington, Thomas Bray’s Associates and Their Work among the Negroes(Worcester, MA: The American Antiquarian Society, 1939).

[5] Unlike many other denominations, notably the Quakers who, though more vocal about the abolition of slavery were less willing to extend fellowship to Blacks. Gigantino, The Ragged Road to Abolition, 71.

[6] Certainly during the colonial era, but also after. Absalom Jones proved otherwise in Philadelphia in 1802, though his career shows it remained incredibly difficult for Black Episcopalians to become ordained for decades after the Revolutionary War. See also the experience of Alexander Crummell at General Seminary in 1839 detailed in Craig Steven Wilder, “‘Driven… from the School of the Prophets’: The Colonizationist Ascendance at General Theological Seminary,” New York History 93.3 (2012): 157-185.

[7] See Graham Russell Hodges, ed., Black Itinerants of the Gospel: The Narratives of John Jea and George White (New York: Palgrave, 2002).

[8] Francis L. Berkeley, Jr., Dumore’s Proclamation of Emancipation (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Library, 1941).

[9] Douglas Egerton, Death or Liberty: African Americans and Revolutionary America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 84.

[10] See the “Book of Negroes,” also known as the “Inspection Roll of Negroes” created by Brigadier General Samuel Birch (1783). National Archives: https://catalog.archives.gov/id/5890797.

[11] Hodges, Slavery and Freedom in the Rural North, 28.

[12] Extract from the Instructions to Earl Clarendon when Lord Cornbury & Governor of New York, January 1, 1702/3, S.P.G. Correspondence, MSS Collection B, Vol. 1, Appendix (British Online Archives).

[13] As a result of the aforementioned connected loyalties, which were represented even in the mandatory prayers for the King offered during Church of England worship services. The inclusion of these prayers in the required liturgy was what made Anglican Church services too dangerous to offer during much of the War in New Jersey.

[14] And not seeing any reason to do so when most Anglicans were viewed as loyalist traitors to the new nation.

[15] E.g. Samuel Cooke of Shrewsbury. Hodges, Slavery and Freedom in the Rural North, 96.

[16] As evidenced by the Van Wickle slave ring.

[17] There various reasons why such calculations are unhelpful, or even counterproductive. Among them is the fact that this kind of calculation only attends to the value of available “priceable” labor. It does not attend to the “missing value” of the destroyed and disappeared lives of those enslaved persons who did not survive the trans-Atlantic trip, or who were murdered, or who died young due to abuse. This “economic value” is destroyed by enslavers and is irretrievable, but in general is a “disappeared” or “externalized” cost in any system that permits slavery, and in most forensic accounting. This problem makes any accurate calculation of responsibility effectively impossible. Accounting for such gifts cannot be considered partially encumbered, or even entirely encumbered as a result of enslavement profiteering. Rather, such donations should most accurately be understood to be supersaturated with encumbrance: the market value of the gift drastically understates the vast toll of human destruction wrought on countless people in order to extract that small amount of “profit” which is then, by donation, converted to “charity”. For this and other reasons, basic forensic accounting cannot accurately determine a dollar value for responsibility for slavery. 

[18] As suggested by Burr, The Anglican Church in New Jersey, 224-28.

[19] As evidenced by, for example the Sampson Adams papers (https://quod.lib.umich.edu/a/adams/index.html), the will from which indicates a significant connection between Adams and St. Michael’s Church, Trenton. Though it is possible that the bequest to St. Michael’s was made only in order to ensure that the will would be honored by the court system and interested White parties, and that, by extension, this would ensure that the bulk of the estate went to his sister, the primary beneficiary.

[20] Including most notably, Methodist churches, the nascent African Methodist Episcopal (AME) movement, Baptist churches, and denominationally independent Black churches.

[21] As previously mentioned, the first Episcopal Bishop of New Jersey, Bishop Croes, enslaved Blacks.

[22] Influential laity like Robert Stockton continued to enslave Blacks well into the gradual abolition period, and worked to remove free Black Americans to Africa.

[23] Particularly the attentions of the S.P.G. in the colonial period.


Friday, January 13, 2023

COMING SOON: Past Reckoning: Exploring the Racial History of the Moravian and Episcopal Churches

 

"The Moravian-Episcopal Coordinating Committee’s Racial Reconciliation Working Group presents “Past Reckoning: Exploring the Racial History of the Moravian and Episcopal Churches.” This webinar series, on Wednesday nights, Jan. 25, Feb. 1 & 8, 7-8:30 p.m. ET, will look at the history of the two churches, from colonial times to the Civil War, from Reconstruction to Jim Crow, and Civil Rights to today. Connections will be made between our past and present to encourage the anti-racism work in which we are engaging now..." For more information see the announcement at episcopalchurch.org.

News: Church of England announces £100m fund after slavery links

 

"The Church of England is pledging £100m to 'address past wrongs,' after its investment fund was found to have historic links to slavery. The funding will be used to provide a 'better and fairer future for all, particularly for communities affected by historic slavery.' A report last year found the Church had invested large amounts of money in a company that transported slaves..." COE press release and report are linked from the article. (Source: bbc.com)

News: From slave mines in Monmouth to plantations in Jersey City, report details N.J.’s slavery history

 

"Forced labor in iron mines in Monmouth County, plantations in Hudson County and trafficking through Atlantic ports all contributed to New Jersey’s role in the devastation created by the Transatlantic Slave Trade, according to a report detailing the roots of one of the most 'horrific eras in world history.' Though much of the history is never taught in schools, New Jersey and other Mid-Atlantic states were central to slavery as it began to take form in America, according to Bryan Stevenson, the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, a nonprofit group focused on racial justice and ending mass incarceration..." A link to the full report can be found in the article. (Source: nj.com)

News: Harvard professor says every device that relies on lithium battery is powered by slavery

 


"Harvard visiting professor and modern slavery activist Siddarth Kara has said that almost every lithium battery-powered tech device is powered by slavery in cobalt mines in the Congo..." (Source: easterneye.biz)

News: California reparations task force dives into what is owed

 


"After more than a year delving into history and studies to make its case for reparations to California descendants of enslaved Black people, a first-in-the-nation task force began deliberations Wednesday to quantify how financial compensation might be calculated and what might be required to prove eligibility..." Article links to the full California state reparations report. (See: apnews.com)

Opinion: How Might We Celebrate the Legacy of Flawed Leaders?

 "Is it possible to celebrate the achievements of American founders, steeped as they are in white male supremacy? As we reassess their legacies, including their limitations and outright flaws, are their records simply too checkered with blind spots, abuses of power and derelictions of support for the full range of humanity, not only on race, but gender, sexuality and many other categories?" (Source: religionnews.com)

News: 50 Million People in Modern Slavery


"Latest estimates show that forced labour and forced marriage have increased significantly in the last five years, according to the International Labour Organization, Walk Free and the International Organization for Migration." (Source: ilo.org)